The (Current) Bane of My Existence

This week, I've been car shopping. Well, really, I've been shopping for a few weeks now, and even longer I've been shopping in my head and online.

Last week the insurance company paid off the loan on the ol' Highlander (may she rest in peace), so I'm ready to dive in to yet another loan and get something to drive myself around.

Thankfully, my friend Chris loaned me one of his (5) cars for about three weeks, so I haven't had to rent, and my generous roommate has waited around for me to be ready for work in the morning on the days I'm not driving Chris's car. As nice as it is to not have a car payment, and to be driven around, it probably is time for me to get my own ride.

I hate car shopping. When I was a teenager, my first car was a Pontiac Grand Am, 1988. I didn't really have a choice--that was the car my parents had, and my dad was driving a company van to work at the time, so it was mine by default. They told me I could drive it as long as I had a job and paid for my own gas. (One time I ran out of gas about a block from the house because I had run on empty for about three days, but I digress. Usually I bought my own gas.)

When I went to college, my sister got to drive the Grand Am (which by that time I had nicknamed the Pontiac P.O.S.). It drove all right, except for those few times it died in the middle of busy intersections, but the fabric header was loose and tended to rest on the heads of the passengers, and due to an unfortunate incident involving myself and a boy, the radio was broken and Alannis Morisette's Jagged Little Pill album was stuck in the tape player for over a year, playing in a loop.

My sister (she's a tricky one) wrecked the Grand Am by smashing into the rear end of a deer, and my parents bought her a newer car, while I was off at college bumming rides (including one where I almost drove a Mazda known as Lucy off the highway after picking someone up at the airport--Lucy perished in hurricane Katrina so I feel it is now safe to mention that I almost killed her in 1998).

When I was a senior in college, I took over the payments of my mom's car, another Pontiac Grand Am, this one a newer model (1995--I got it in 2000). Despite accidentally crashing into the garage door opening, that Grand Am lasted until just last year.

In the meantime, I got the Highlander (may she rest in peace). I bought the car at CarMax, which I highly recommend to anyone who hates car shopping. Pick out your car online, go to the store, pay the asking price. No haggling, no "let me check with my manager" business. It was a good experience, and I planned on driving the Highlander (may she rest in peace) until she died on me (have I mentioned I loved that car?). Little did I know that would be this year.

Anyway, the search for a car is overwhelming me. I am trying to be financially responsible but also buy a reliable car. There are a MILLION choices out there, and just when I think I've found something, it turns out to have a problem.

I don't even really care about cars that much--I've never really had a favorite car (unless you count when I was 14 and wished for a red Miata convertible, or when I was in high school and thought about how cool I would be if I had a Jeep wrangler). Now I wish I lived somewhere I didn't need a car, and could take public transportation, or that the weather was nice enough and I lived close enough to work to ride a bike. Purchasing something as large as a vehicle is daunting, and maybe this means that I'm becoming an old, boring adult, but I find this shopping experience excruciating.

I'm still looking, and reading reviews on Consumer Reports and Edmunds and checking Carfax reports and asking for advice. My most recent find is a 1999 Infiniti QX4 (I know, not exciting, and old--but it's reliable, gets good reviews, and is cheap!). We'll see how it pans out...I don't have much hope that it will be a painless process, but who knows. I needs me some WHEELS.

Focus (or Lack Thereof)

The last few weeks have filled my head so chock full that I haven't been able to focus.

I wrecked my car a few weeks ago, as you may have seen on this blog and elsewhere, and when the officer on the scene asked me what happened (and he actually said, "No seriously. WHAT HAPPENED?") I couldn't really answer. I know that I wasn't paying attention--I was thinking about anything BUT driving.

That morning, I read an email from a friend that consumed my thoughts for most of the day. Before I got in the car to take that last drive (R.I.P. Highlander!), my mom had me watch an episode of Oprah that got me thinking about myself, my free time, and my relationships with others. I planned to run a race the next day. I saw a play the night before and the songs were stuck in my head.

None of these things are reasons to drive my car off the road, I know. It's a horrible excuse, if you can even call it that. And my ability to focus has just gotten worse since then.

Dealing with the insurance to get a new car has been harrowing. I testified in court last Tuesday. Work has been insane the last few weeks; today I couldn't get anything done because I was working on too many things at once.

Tonight I played in a volleyball game and I had to keep reminding myself to pay attention to the ball--I caught myself staring into space more than once (not that I'm really any good at volleyball, internet, but I was worse than EVER tonight).

Even this post is disjointed. My thoughts feel jumbled.

I think I need to get back to yoga--it was definitely something that helped me focus. When I'm not focused, I tend to do things like fall down stairs or sprain my ankle. I miss deadlines and projects are harder to complete.

I'm trying to slow down my brain. The rain tonight helps a little--it's calming and relaxing, and I'm breathing a little deeper. If you have any advice for getting my mind back into a lower gear, I'd love to hear it.

A New Start

For those of you who peruse my blog, whether it's a habit (I'm in your list of daily blogs), or a compulsion (you know who you are), or you've just seen my Facebook updates and are curious, today is the one of those days where I start anew.

I have these days occasionally, and I'm sure you do, too. A lot of times, it's January 1st--you know the feeling: you've got your New Year's resolution phrased just so, and you have a plan of action you're ready to set in motion. Sometimes it's a birthday--yours or someone else's--and you feel the need to make a change for the better. Occasionally, it's after some other sort of momentous occasion--a birth, a death, a moving or tragic or frightening or hope-inspiring instance; one that makes you realize all there is out there in the universe, and you draft a mental note to yourself to modify your existence in some way.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that sparked me towards change...it has been a long time coming. But I do feel like today marks a shift in my being--one that I know will take me along my journey in a new and very positive direction.

My marriage of six years ended today, legally and officially. The actual experience of finalizing all the paperwork and speaking in front of a judge was less than monumental--quiet, quick, and strangely sanitary. I sat for a while in a courtroom full of people at a crossroads in their lives, observing. Some of them made me feel sad, and some of them made me feel irritated, these people and their lawyers in a room where none of us knew each other and would never meet again, most likely. There were some people there that were hurting, and some that were full of anger, and some that looked frightened. I wasn't quite sure what to feel--I made a decision, based on what I believed best for me, and I was satisfied while I sat and waited that it was the right decision. Five minutes or less on the witness stand, a small, stapled stack of papers, and I was out the door--less than an hour after I arrived.

I ate a Nutella cupcake (incidentally, from my new favorite place in Kansas City, Cupcake A La Mode) and chatted with my friend Amy about love and life, and hugged her adorable baby for a while.

I write a lot about my personal experiences on this blog, and I tend to keep them about how I'm feeling, and how I think it relates to the rest of the world, attempting to keep from calling anyone out or making a virtual scene. This is a little more personal detail than usual--it just felt like something I needed to write down (or rather, type out).

I'm almost 30--and I'm not afraid of that number. I feel like the world is awash with endless possibilities--some of them challenging and scary, some of them gorgeous and amazing, and some of them clearly places in the journey where I'll have to make absolute decisions and go one way or another.

I feel very much like myself today--confident in who I am and what I believe in, secure in knowing that my friends and family love me no matter what, and hopeful for whatever is next to come. Thanks for checking on me here--I hope that whomever and wherever you are, you can find what it is that pushes you towards that place where you can be fully yourself and ready for whatever the universe throws at you.

The Highlander (Or, How I Spent Saturday Evening)

You know, I've always thought of my self as a good driver. I am currently questioning that assessment, and maybe you will too after you read this post (or maybe the picture is enough and you've already made up your mind). I was in a wreck yesterday, or, maybe more precisely, I wrecked my car yesterday.

I was driving in Springfield, Missouri, on my way to visit a friend. I didn't have the radio on, I wasn't talking on the phone, and I wasn't doing anything else that should have distracted me this much from the road. For whatever reason, I was too far over to the right side of the road, and was surprised by a road sign that seemed to be very close to the edge of the street, and so I jerked the wheel to the left (a.k.a., mistake number 1).

I was cresting a hill, and thought to myself, this is dangerous, I shouldn't be over on this side, so I jerked the wheel back to the right (a.k.a., mistake number 2). At that point, the car started wobbling, and I lost all of my good sense about driving (because really, my dad taught me how to drive quite well, almost 16 years ago). At that point, I hit the right edge of the road and next thing I knew, my car was resting on the passenger side and I wasn't sure which way was up.

There were some good samaritans along the road that helped me climb out of the driver's side door, and I stood there for a while waving at passing motorists who all had looks of horror on their faces, assuring them I was all right.

The police officer who came to the scene questioned me for a while about what happened, and I still am not really able to tell you what made me swerve all over the road. I was definitely distracted, and not thinking about driving in the slightest, but not by something in the car--just the things going on in my head.

The car was towed, and my dad drove me to Clinton, where we met Aaron, who drove me back to KC. I'm not sure if it's totaled yet, but the officer, the tow truck driver, and my insurance agent are all fairly sure that it will be. I guess I'll hear from the State Farm claims team on Monday about what to do next.

It was a surreal experience--I am mostly unharmed (there are bruises on the tops of my knees, a bump on the left side of my head, my right shoulder is a little bruised, and my neck is pretty stiff today). Thankfully, I was wearing my seatbelt, which is surely what saved my life--if I hadn't had my seatbelt on, I would have been thrown all over the vehicle, but as it was, I felt like I was riding on a roller coaster. I wasn't really afraid that I would be hurt as I was toppling over in the car, but I knew this couldn't be good. I think the pictures are pretty darn scary, and it's very strange to think that I was in the vehicle when it got thrown into this position.

Thanks for all the well-wishes, everyone, and please be careful. Wear your seatbelts, and make sure your loved ones do, too. It doesn't take much at all to send your car into such a dangerous tumble, so if I can at least tell you what I learned, it's not to get complacent about driving these giant scary machines we call our cars.

What I've Learned This Year: 2008

On the eve of the new year, which looks to be shaping up to be one of the greatest years of my life thus far, I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve learned. This year has taught me to look deeper into myself, and to use what I’m learning to improve myself

Probably the most important thing I’ve learned this year is about my friendships. I’ve always had great friends. I love to meet people, and I’ve never felt like I was without friends. Obviously relationships wax and wane, and grow and change and morph into other things, but I think each of the friendships I’ve had along the way has been of vital importance to my development of self. I used to think that friends were an external force in the directions my life has taken—an auxiliary piece of the puzzle, or something that happens as a result of choices and experiences I’m having on my own.

This year, though, I have come to realize that my friendships are inseparably entwined into my life—a part of my being that I can’t pull out and treat as a side item. I wouldn’t be who I am, or maybe even anyone at all, without my friends. And anyway, I wouldn’t want to be anyone without my friends—they make life interesting, and challenging, and more rich and broader and deeper.

I could go on for pages and pages about this subject, but in the interest of your sanity, internet, I’ve pared it down a bit to some of the things I think are most important about my friendships.

1. Part of the reason we like our friends is that we’re attracted to them. Sometimes it’s physical beauty—I have some friendships that started that way. I always wanted to be one of the “hot girls,” but since I usually end up as “the cute one that the boys talk to ABOUT the hot girls,” I’ll settle for being friends with said hot girls. It just so happens that the “hot girls” I know are also kind, generous, warm, adventuresome, carefree, and beyond compassionate for the people they hold dear. True beauties—inside and out.

The attraction to a friend can come from lots of places—intelligence, humor, skills (nun-chuck or otherwise), wit, or even sheer passion for life. We seek out in our true friends the things we feel we are lacking in ourselves, and that’s when we click—for lack of a less cheesy way to say it, we complete each other. I’m thankful for the ways my friends add to my life and my being, and I hope I do that for them.

2. True compatriots share in your experiences. Whether that means an activity you like to do together, or a common interest in something (from anime to new age spirituality to yoga to dogs to pop culture to knitting to drinking and laughing to contests that involve kicking one’s shoes as far as one can), or a moment you had together that binds you for life—not only shared experiences but shared desires. One of my dear friends admitted, a little bashfully, that she becomes a stalker when she meets new friends—tries to insert herself into their lives, because she can’t wait to become closer companions. I was able to tell her, after she related that story, that I stalked HER to become her friend—I wanted so badly to be able to call her a friend that I went to her desk at work every day under the guise of team-building, to endear myself to her. And it worked!

3. Having friends with different types and levels of experiences and lifestyles and attitudes and outlooks on life is vital to your survival. I am awed at how my friends have given me such perspective on my life—somehow I have managed to surround myself with people who not only can think through complicated topics, but can also put those thoughts into beautiful and meaningful words that speak to my soul. Whether it has been at a bar having beers, or at a cafeteria table at work, or in a pan-Asian restaurant drinking tea and eating tofu, or in a dive café after yoga class, or in a knitting circle, or in countless loving emails or notes, my friends have helped me to look at my life from a new vantage point. I am amazed at their collective ability for introspection and for pushing the edges of understanding to help me learn and come to terms with problems I face.

4. A friend really does love you, NO MATTER WHAT. As humans we define limits—for our own abilities and possibilities, for rational and technical and emotional and fantastical subjects, and for the amount of love we believe someone else can give us. I’ve learned this year that those people I love unconditionally and support without wavering during any situation actually feel the same way about me. A silly thing to suppose WASN’T true, but all the same…what an amazing feeling to be supported so selflessly by people I love and trust and admire. Thanks to ALL of you for proving to me what friendship really means.

So to all my friends—thanks for everything you’ve done this year: for me, with me, about me, and maybe even that helped me, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. I couldn’t have made it to the end of 2008 without all of you, and I hope you know it. You’re more important to me than these meager words can express, and I hope I can be for you one 100th of what you’ve meant to me this year. Best wishes for 2009 to each and every one of you.

The Giving of Gifts

Last weekend, I went Christmas shopping. I was searching for a few specific things for my family members, keeping Christmas modest and light this year, in view of the economy and other factors that have made this year a little challenging for all of us. I had a list, and (since I love lists and the feeling of checking things OFF my lists), I was sticking to that list like a soldier in battle—trying to get in and out of stores quickly and painlessly, finding what I needed and then planning a quick exit strategy. My plan was to buy what I needed, speed home, get things wrapped, and be done with it.

Sound like a beautiful and meaningful holiday season to you?

My plans were derailed by the fact that I went shopping with my friend Aaron. Aaron is NOT a list-maker, and, even though he made a list in an attempt to make me feel better about the afternoon, he didn’t really follow it. We went from store to store as his excitement for the season and for the gifts he was buying for his loved ones grew. He got more and more ecstatic about his goods with each purchase. You could see him imagining his loved ones opening presents in total surprise as he placed items in his cart.

I think I need to rethink the giving of gifts this season.

Sometimes I can be a bit of a humbug about Christmas—I am not one to keep much “stuff” around, and the things that I need or want I tend to just go out and get myself, so when it comes to Christmas, and someone asks what I would like, I can’t come up with anything. I don’t think that’s necessarily bad—I love holidays for the time spent with family and friends, relaxing, laughing, playing, and eating good food. THAT is as much of a present as anything I could think to ask for, so again, it’s hard to make a wish list.

On the other hand, I do like giving presents. I am hard on myself sometimes about finding the PERFECT present—that one thing that will make my sister giggle, or my brother-in-law’s eyes light up, or my mother to gasp “how did you know!” It gets MUCH harder to do this as people get older and more established in their lives, and really requires a lot of planning (not something I give myself much time to do). And it has come to my attention that other people love to give gifts, too.

Duh, Kate, you might be thinking to yourself. You’re not the only one who enjoys giving more than receiving. In fact I would venture to say that MOST people I know would much rather watch others open the gifts they give than open something themselves. But that means that we, as givers, also have to be responsible receivers, and learn how to take something with gratitude and humbleness, whether it is a compliment or a Christmas sweater.

Gretchen from The Happiness Project posted a link today to an article from The New York Times about the potlatch—a ceremonial tradition of giving to excess in some native American tribes. The article talks about what we can learn in today’s economy from giving, rather than cutting back, and what it means to be a giver, rather than focusing on receiving.

I hope to practice gift-giving with some measure of abandon this season—even if my gifts aren’t wrapped, but rather spoken, or sung, or practiced. Enjoy the potlatch!

Musings on a Teacher and Friend

In an earlier post, I mentioned my photography class at William Jewell College. My teacher was this amazing woman, and one of the reasons I loved the class and took a second semester of photography was that she taught me so much—not only about photography, but about life in general.

We had a lot in common—we were both from conservative Midwestern households, where our parents had been married for years and years, and we were raised in the church (both of us Methodist, I do believe). Both of us had gotten a little wild in college, and one of the first things I shared with the class was my tattoo—I did a self-portrait of my back, focusing mostly on the tattoo, because it had become something that defined me in multiple ways. My mother HATED that tattoo (and probably still does), and we had a bit of a falling out over it as I entered my second year of college.

My photography teacher assigned us a project over Thanksgiving break that fall—kind of a documentary-style photo essay, and I was having a hard time coming up with a subject. My teacher sat down with me and said, “What about doing your essay on your mom?” She said she understood the dynamic we had at the time, and thought it would make for an interesting story—and she was right. Those photos were fascinating to take—I followed my mom to work, to family gatherings, and around the house, and it gave me an interesting perspective on her, even though we were sometimes at odds. It allowed me to see her from a less emotional angle, and to consider her point of view a little more—my teacher’s suggestion was an excellent idea.

Later on that year, as I tried to decide whether travelling overseas for school was something I wanted to do, and where I should go, and what I should study, I talked to my photography teacher about her experience studying overseas, and I decided to go where she went—to Oxford, England—and it was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

I babysat for my teacher’s kids—two gorgeous girls that were anything but a job! The girls loved to play games they made up, and we would spend hours running around the house playing variations of tag—some blindfolded, some with hilarious rules. We watched the Disney channel, made cookies, and had to shut up the chickens in the chicken coop in the evening—something I had NEVER done before I met them. They would remind me when it was getting close to bed time, and they would run upstairs and change into pajamas and brush their teeth and ask me to tell them stories about myself as a kid before they went to sleep. It was the most fun babysitting job I’ve ever had.

My photography teacher eventually quit teaching at William Jewell, and got THE BEST JOB EVER—restaurant critic for the Kansas City Star. When I would come over to babysit (at this point, as a young adult with a regular job), she would insist on paying me, and when I said no to money, she would pay me in cookbooks, or bottles of wine, or fabulous desserts from the restaurants she reviewed. She took me to my very first meal of sushi, and ordered one of everything on the menu at Kona Grill. She took me to other restaurants, and asked my opinion of the meals, and insisted that everyone order something different so we could taste each other’s dishes. Once I saw her out to eat at a fancy restaurant, and she sent over appetizers and drinks to our whole table.

It has been awhile since I spoke to my teacher, turned friend and inspiration. Lauren Chapin passed away this week, and I’m sorry that I hadn’t seen her or spoken to her in so long. I’m devastated for her beautiful girls, now 16 and 14, and for her husband, who is as passionate about music as Lauren was about food. I envied their family—their freedom to learn and to love and to try things that other people might find strange (do you know very many elementary school children who like Indian food and tzatziki?). I wanted to BE part of their family, and spending Friday and Saturday evenings at their house was like a vacation to an imaginary, fabulous life. One of the best parts was waiting for Lauren to get home after her dinner, so that I could hear about the food, and the people, and tell her things I talked to her girls about while she was out to eat.

Lauren was joyous, and an amazing listener, and a great friend. She helped me to learn who I was, and I still draw inspiration from the way she lived her life. I owe her a thanks that I probably never shared—I hope she knew how much she meant to me. Rest in peace, Lauren.