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May 22nd, 2006
12:00 am - I think I can finally say...
Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great. You have no power over me.
I love my life.
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May 7th, 2006
02:35 am - NOTICE!!
WE'RE UPDATING ALL OF THE OLD TRADITIONS, NOT ABANDONING THEM. "ALL THIS IS COMFORT."
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02:11 am - To name a few...
My life is theater and downtown and bustle right now:
"Enjoying the woods, girls?"
Total and utter cogency at all times.
A love that I want to be realized.
Kickball in the sun.
Lion King weepiness.
Post-coital picnics.
Not the sandwich line, but we were close...
Singing impromtu opera to get friends out of the shower.
"But I like wearing underwear."
"Part of their world" and "Into the Woods" in the women's dressing room.
Pre-tower statue SEXercise.
First names that it's impossible to say; old crushes die so hard.
Five year old props resurfacing.
Lovely cake with fruit and flowers.
A new sort of best-friendship starting.
Eighties rocker wigs.
Goodbyes. Hellos?
Summer plans... to last the rest of our lives.
12 hour rehearsals.
Mejana's, Sitwell's, Starbuck's, Sunshine, Walgreen's, and so much more, filled with so much deep conversation.
Midnight smoothies and monologues.
TITTIES! BIRD FLU! TITTIES! BIRD FLU!
"The glory and the freshness of a dream."
"It's a small world after all."
Friends, strappy silver shoes, dreams.
Female twins and brothers... with breasts.
First professional review, first bad review. Hurrah, in all seriousness.
Zip Zap Zop champion!
RICHMOND! (With a pop in your voice and a fist thrust.)
Back to the days of pleasantly, near aimlessly wandering P-Ridge in the car, if only for an afternoon.
A shared grief.
"I'm not wasting your time, am I darling?"
"Of we go to the chopping block, here to get our heads chopped off: CHOP BLUH."
"Little."
Smoking jacket robes and the loudest laughter I've ever heard over comic books.
Pride, sun, cosmpolitan chaotic joy, coincidence, hugs, honesty, visceral(ity?), anticipation, actualization.
I'm so busy, I don't even have time to be regretful. If it makes sense, I think that I have become.
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April 14th, 2006
01:34 am - In my head it has a tune...
Let's see if somehow while I rave like a lunatic
I can create something mildly poetic.
So much thought, so much feeling can only end in tears...
The way it started.
In a past life he said were were Romeo and Juliet
And we found eachother here, but just to be friends,
And while we agree that in a perfect world we'd be in love
Something holds us back (it's my love for another).
And still I wonder, would Romeo and Juliet have lasted very long?
If we can't count on anything being forever,
Then how can we start so many relationships, make so many memories,
When we know we'll just end splintered and confused.
I look at my parents and wonder how they do it...
So carelessly mention their lost loves and friends without regret...
At least they have eachother.
But I do it too without thought fairly regularly...
Second grade best friends, eighth grade identities.
I forget those years were just as formative, those friendships just as deep.
But while my capacity for love grows my honesty diminishes.
I try never to disengage, but sometimes the hurt's too fucking huge.
I want to hold on, but I don't have enough hands,
And sometimes I climb and step on my past.
So many casts and so many late nights,
So many Rachies and so many Mikes.
So many tears shed, so much laughter dispersed.
But these fears remain unheard.
Tell me I'm emo or call me a worry-wort;
Maybe its my fear of change that makes me so appreciative.
I'm sensitive, dramatic, and never just ok,
Always some exaggeration.
My life is filled with this joyful reverie:
Unrestrained emotion, spontaneous orgasms are accessories.
I'm just another violent person yearning for peace,
Singing songs of regret and heartfelt hypocrisy,
Wanting community as I scream for democracy.
I make promses I won't keep, and I do it knowingly.
Anticipation's the real promise, the excited uncertainty.
But still I secretly aspire for infinity.
Is what's true premeditated or a split second decision?
Go in for the kiss or avoid recognition?
Follow the rules or follow your heart?
Find home together or find it apart?
And sometimes it is a self imposed need
To neglect assertion or quickly concede.
Sometimes with bitches, one must be Queen B.
A harmonious group can still disagree.
But among disagreement, it gets harder to see
That we're in this together.
That life, no matter how we pretend
Is a giant one for all.
But still it seems so fleeting.
Can I save it all?
Just for an endless tonight?
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April 13th, 2006
07:43 pm
Untouchable Face.
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February 16th, 2006
04:46 pm - I don't know how to say it...
I want something. I want something so deep, so all- encompassing, that I can't begin to fathom it.
Yesterday, I was sick, and so was Livie. And I woke up to "The Tango Maureen" blaring in Liv's room, and the first sound to leave my lips was singing. I love days like that. Days when my voice is raspy and throaty and even more tuneless, dripping with sleep. And Livie and I listened and talked and sang along, every single song. And I cried. "You're making yourself cry," Livie said, but the truth was, I was trying not to, something I rarely make myself do. But I couldn't help it. I curled up on the wood floor beside the blaring boom box in a fetal position and shook with supressed sobbing.
I don't know what it is about RENT. I have so many crazy convoluted feelings surrounding it about which I can hardly comprehend cogently, far less begin to express them. Part of is that I admire them. I admire the characters for their visceral and artistic and accepting and authentic and cultured lifestyles, and, despite the drugs and the disease, part of me wants that deeply truly. Part of it must be in the legacy of this obsessive thing I've always had, where I choose something I love- Alanna, LOTR, Monty Python, The Beatles, whatever, and I want them all to be friends, forever, to fulfill these deep fears I have of loss and lonliness, to somehow fill this calculus-honed concept of infinity. Part is that they're genuinly powerful actors and singers, and have incredible chemistry, which actually proves to me even further why theater and performance art can be monumental and earth-shaking.
But mostly, I think, it's the love. Their friendship and love touches me so much I can't explain it. And while I yearn for that, yearn for it heart and soul, I've realized that I have it. Why am I trying to keep their loves alive, which are fictional, although of course highly significant in our parallel realities, when I've let some wonderful people go, and I'm going through dry spells with some of the people I consider my forever friends? Forever friends... It's a phrase I've always used in my head, and so far, I'm not sure if I've ever achieved it. I've tried writing poems and stories to express it, to define it, to recognize it, to pay homage to it, but never once have I succeeded. I know that I can make friends and be happy and that's okay. How can I keep you all and recognize you? It's selfish and obsessive and sometimes downright weird (shower-curtain ring days, perhaps?), but how can I save some of these friendships and let them be forever? Or is forever not important? Is only now important? Is only the recognition that everything you've taught me and awakened in me and let me feel will last forever, is that what's important? I don't know. I've tried for more than ten years to figure it out, or even articulate it in some way beyond these broken words and musings. Or maybe defining it is not that important at all, maybe I'm trying to cognitize and define and limit and categorize something that's heart, pure and simple. But I know I should try to be more like Angel, and do, as Maureen says she did: say how lucky I am that we are all friends.
I am so lucky that we are all friends.
"Give in to love, or live in fear."
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February 13th, 2006
10:06 pm
This will be interesting to accompany our self concept talks in TTS. I think I have to give my counselors adjectives to describe me tomorrow.
http://kevan.org/johari?name=katiemackatie
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January 27th, 2006
03:53 pm - We are the Music Makers...
We had a party seventh bell today, a party for Esther.
We all sat around on the ground eating brownies, cookies, chips, pretzels, soda, ice cream. Esther was wearing a paper crown, and was jumped on periodically throughout the afternoon. Molly was a little hysterical and so hyper. Josh, Paul, and Laura had a hard core series of ice cream eating contests, all of which we watched, cheering and yelling. Laura, Rach, Jessi and I sprawled all over the place making hideous faces for Sal and her camera. Mr. C was cleaning up a lot, but also laughing a lot. Everyone wanted pictures with Esther, and their was literally a hug line for her that began just before the bell rang.
Esther, I love you. I really do. I know that we haven't hung out or had lots of inside jokes or shared classes and stories. But you would always make me feel better as we left behind math class in favor of orchestra. And you would always give me the kindest smile if I happened to be looking your way while we played or if we crossed paths in the violin room. As strange as this may seem to say, you are a part of me. And more importantly, you're a part of us. So please know how much I care, even though I don't know how to express it. Enjoy yourself, and please, bring back a million crazy stories that you can share with chamber orchestra on some day right before graduation, when none of the seniors are playing, and the rest of us are preparing Pomp and Circumstance, and the whole classroom is randomly exploding into laughter.
We are the Dreamers of Dreams.
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December 28th, 2005
December 26th, 2005
01:25 am - Life is a Game and True Love is a Trophy
I just got off the phone after a four hour conversation with Conor. I was lying on the guest bed in my attic, sprawled out with a comforter and chocolate covered sunflower seeds. Conor was pacing a hotel in Florida, walking barefoot with his sweatpants rolled under his feet like socks. It was amazing how the distance didn't matter.
We made our secret pacts, and complained and commiserated about relationships. We talked about our fears of growing up, about our future plans... college and jobs and marriage and kids. We talked about the things we have a thousand times: my weight, our days, what we were eating, what movies we'd seen or books we'd read, his hookups, our fears.
"The night I turned 18, I sat by the window waiting for Peter Pan," someone once told me, "but he didn't come." I was the first person awake on Christmas morning today. I woke up, all by myself, at seven on the nose, the time it's allowed to wake everyone else up in my family. I was too embarrassed to wake everyone. I squelched (I have no idea if that's a word) my excitement about Santa, and went back to sleep. Conor and I talked a lot about growing up and about wasted time tonight. While we did, I flipped through an old notebook. In its pages was documented the first time I dated Conor. I read funny passages as they came: the miraculous and magical evening at Skyline, first kisses, first dates. And then I found our breakup, on the swings at the pool. And what I'd recorded of our conversation following was so relevant I could have written it yesterday. After four years, I'd forgotten in some ways how important that pool life was to me, but as I read, I knew the twelve year old girl who'd written it. I felt her inside of me just as the melancholy and sentimental writing that is still so characteristic of my style suggests. What we had said that summer day was a slightly more optimistic prelude to what we said tonight, on Christmas years later. And I was struck by how much more carefree, spontaneous, and honest we were then, but how much the same we've remained in spite of everything.
And I think Conor and I recognized something in a way far deeper than ever before: We are so lucky. I spend so much time complaining, but my life is so utterly beautiful, precious, and blessed. I have gifts far deeper than the unbelievably lovely presents I received for Christmas- I have friendship, love, health, wealth, joy, intelligence, everything.
And this time, this life, is not meant to be wasted. No more wishing I were somewhere else, wishing I were with someone else, wishing I were doing something else. I need to spend so much more of my time in pursuits that truly matter to me, and hopefully thereby perpetuating love and helping to improve the world. I know what I want and I will work up the courage to find it- not in selfishness, but to honor all of my priceless gifts instead of wasting them. And I will commit myself to creating goodness, to being a source of positivity and beauty.
I know that it's just the same revelation over and over again, but this time it hit me so hard it hurt. Thank you, Conor, for the most genuine and lovely reflection on the past several year, and 2005 in particular, that I can imagine. Holiday cheers to old friends, truth, beauty, freedom, and love above all things. Happy Boxing Day.
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November 24th, 2005
01:46 am - Metamorphoses Sonnets
These are so lame... but I'm ever so proud.
Apollo and Daphne
Apollo was a god of recent fame,
While Cupid enticed passion from above.
He questioned Cupid’s power and his aim;
He thought that strength and war could conquer love.
But Cupid could prompt a Phoebean fall
And pierced with sharp, sleek gold Apollo’s marrow.
Daphne, he struck with weapon blunt and dull,
Both love and fear borne by respective arrow.
Burning, Apollo pursued maiden Daphne,
And she, now sworn perpetual virgin, fled.
When he almost had caught her, fearfully,
She prayed to be a laurel tree instead.
The could not live together happily,
But certainly, he said, she’d be his tree.
Pyramus and Thisbe
Synonymous with young and tragic love,
The predecessor of Juliet and Romeo,
Thisbe and Pyramus made berries mauve;
The ends of forbid passion therein show.
Their houses were cut off by lofty wall
And they could only whisper through a crack.
Thisbe escaped at night with boldened gall
To meet her love and never to turn back.
A lion scared her at a mulberry tree.
She dropped a shawl which the cruel lion shred.
Pyramus killed himself when he the shawl did see,
And Thisbe stabbed herself on his deathbed.
The mulberry fruit hung purple with their gore.
They in one tomb were buried as implored.
Pygmalion
Pygmalion lived alone and celibate,
Offended by perceived womanly vice.
Given the time to work and contemplate,
He sculpted his unreal but perfect wife.
His passion for this ivory sculpture grew
And he began to fancy her alive.
Each time he touched her, he loved her anew.
Of no commodity was she deprived.
He prayed to Venus on a festive day
That he might have a wife like his sculpture.
But Venus knew what he had wished to say:
He wanted ivory herself and just her.
The ivory of the stature turned to flesh.
She fell in love with him at first caress.
Daedalus and Icarus
Known Daedalus, Athenian architect,
Who built the Cretan labyrinth for the king,
With his son, Icarus, in Crete was kept
But they fled not by sea or land, but wing.
Skilled Daedalus shaped feathers with much wax,
And sewed these to the arms of his young boy.
With tears he warned his son not to be lax;
To beware lest he get lost in flight’s joy.
But energetic Icarus forgot,
And flew in passion towards the bright day sun.
The wax melted as it became too hot.
Icarus fell into the sea, undone.
Paternal grief struck lonely Daedalus.
The land near where he fell is called Icarus.
Baucis and Philemon
When Jupiter and Mercury, dressed as men,
Sought hospitality and travelers’ welcome,
All homes barred their doors; none would let them in.
The gods saw their selfish earthly kingdom.
But Philemon and Baucis received them.
Although they lived in a humble abode,
The little that they had they shared and then
They wished they could do more to ease their load.
The gods unveiled and told the two to flee;
And as they left the neighborhood was swamped.
But Philemon and Baucis just could see
Their house a temple; their reward was prompt.
The poor old couple acted as the guards.
They died together, became tree-shaped lords.
The Metamorphoses
When reading Ovid’s Metamorphoses
A few main themes consistently are seen:
Love in some from is found in all the stories,
Not mild or tame, but always some extreme.
Whether young, brash, ancient, altruistic,
Obsessive, paternal, or cause by fate,
Love can take a turn that’s moralistic,
Or else forbidden, filled with hear and hate.
The catalysts of transformation vary,
But as the name suggests, each story it imbues:
In remembrance or shield from adversary,
The truly pious get what they are due.
Complex but entertaining from the start,
Real life, in essence, imitates real art.
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November 23rd, 2005
11:23 am - There's only us...
I guess I'm just worn out... physically and emotionally. I couldn't muster the energy to leave the house last night. I fell asleep at 9 o'clock and slept for 13 hours. I had my big break-down at lunch then in Peters' room last Friday. I'm afraid I'm starting to think with my head instead of my heart. Harry Potter/RENT, anyone?
PS It's beginning to snow.
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October 29th, 2005
12:42 am - Mrs Peal, We're Needed
Tonight was a night of punch drunk love, of dizzy hysteria, of sugar and kisses.
After Thespians, where the few of us who came gave monologues and watched Ian McKellan with his doublet unlaced (I want to have sex with him), choice parts of Shakespeare in Love (I want to have sex with both of them), numerous R&J's (who's heard of Romeo tripping on acid?), and amazing and now old British actors discuss Shakespeare, Sally and I ran errands. It seems that I spend most of my fridays lately just driving around with Sal. We had a Lacrosse Boy sighting, but when we walked past his house with Casey, he had gone in. We quested for safety pins and red carnations, and went to the costume store, and picked up Lilifer (who provided us with much better safety pins, and her lovely company) and drove back to my house. After those few hours of listening to music and chatting and driving and errand running, we were ready to get in and get changed. But it was not to be... Dun dun dun...
Basically, Clare locked us out, but I shouldn't blame it all on her, because I hadn't brought my key. And it was so funny, it almost wasn't anymore. Sally's costume was inside and we were expecting Tobs and Rach, and I left numerous hysterical messages on my dad's cell. I couldn't remember my mom's number, but I knew the first 3 digits, so we just guessed and guessed, to no avail, but the wrong number calls were pretty hilarious at times. Lil changed in the garage and I tried the neighbors and it was insane.
I think I had a mini break- down at Claire's party. I needed to get out some mingled laughs and tears, and I needed my friends, even if they all did (actually) think I was wasted. So we all cuddled and flirted and laughed and yelled. Sally eventually got the suit, and we made a lovely Steed and Mrs Peal in our Episode 1, The Costume Caper, ie The Bitter and Devious and Scheming Younger Sister. I'm dizzy now from Tobs spinning me around so exuberantly, but more relaxed than I've been in a while. I love my friends. A lot.
I'm tired of being moody; I'm tired of being bitchy; I'm tired of being sad; I'm tired of being lonely; I'm tired of being angry; I'm tired of being tired.
I'm ready to be me again, and I'm ready to fully embrace the fall.
Thank you Claire, Sari, Kristen, and Em for a wonderful party.
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October 25th, 2005
08:29 pm
I wish my name were Maria, just so that someone could sing that song to me, and have it be true.
Thank you so much, Mich Mich.
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October 24th, 2005
07:18 pm
I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell.
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October 16th, 2005
09:36 pm
A weekend of good movies, good friends, and good fall breezes...
Sally, Lily, Jennie, Chelsea, Emmy, Kristen, Mary and I got all dressed up and went to dinner and to see Elizabeth Town. They all looked so beautiful, and the movie was so wonderfully girly, and very satisfying, considering that it was watching other people find the love I want. We then rounded off the evening with Fight Club at Jennie's (after late night tea of course) which was probably one of the most thought provoking and wonderfully disturbing movies I've ever seen.
This afternoon was Cappies training, and all I can say is that I really love Megan, Chris, Liz, Adam, Spence, Serg, Fred, and Peters. Megan was absoluely giddy, and she makes me laugh so hard when she's so crazy and wonderful. Chris and I rolled down the hill, and he let me drive his car around the parking lot. And, in a way best of all, after I saw someone I haven't seen in three or four years and made a few new friends, I returned to the Walnut Team in the corner, shaking their heads at me, and saying we don't mingle with stupid people. And as awful and exclusive as it is, I love it.
Tonight I went over to Emily's apartment wiht my sisters and it was such a blast. We talked on her bed and watched Chasing Liberty, which I must admit that I loved. Emily is so amazing and kind and I miss her so much. "Who are they, the love police?"
Even though I've had a fantastic weekend, I feel so bad that I couldn't get a ride to see Toby in Cabaret. I've also felt so lonely lately, as strange as it sounds, but I think it must be nature cravings.
And now, though I'm ashamed to do this, I have to conform and post just these two because they're so true:
-Katie needs to get a grip.
-Katie needs a wake-up call from her childhood fantasy.
And as crazy as unlike me as this is (because I'm a Cubs fan since birth) I feel compelled to say "Go Sox."
Love Katie
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October 9th, 2005
10:21 pm - Although I'm a dreamer:
I think Conor's dad recognized something in me that I've been trying to put my finger on for a long time. And now I can articulate it:
Everyone thinks that I'm so ambitious, so driven, that I'll reach so high; but the truth is, I like to be close to the earth.
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10:00 pm - Spot of tea?
I smell like woodsmoke and clam. We had the first fires of fall.
This was a yummy weekend.
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October 2nd, 2005
07:07 pm
I didn't realize at first that this was generated from my journal, and I thought wow, this sounds just like me.
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September 26th, 2005
04:51 pm - Invisible Man
"Still I loved him..."
"Loved him? You mean...?"
"Oh yes, but I loved something else even more."
"What more?"
"Freedom."
"Freedom," I said. "Maybe freedom lies in hating."
"Naw, son, it's in loving."
-Ralph Ellison
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