Postcards from Nowhere

When I am old

about eighty or so... I probably will no longer be married to my husband... he would have died a few years before. He of course will not be forgotten. I will continue loving his memory. I will have a boyfriend though. He will probably be younger than I am. We will sit together on one of those hard wooden benches in the mall. Near the fountain. We will hold hands and watch the people. The kids throwing coins into the water. Young couples with their arms around eachother. The teenage girls with their fancy makeup and funny hair scowling at people and laughing at others. The young men watching the girls. The babies in their strollers with the young parents looking in the windows of the stores. We will sit. Watching the world go by. We will remember the past, all the while looking to the future. We will be happy. We will be old. We will be the couple that everyone admires.

We have sheep!

You know that line in 'Twister'? "We have cows"... well, just until recently we've been having inch large hail and tornados... my dad was looking at the radar on the computer and every once in a while a sheep would fall from the top of the screen... like it was raining sheep...it was funny... I guess you just had to be there.. lol

We had a couple tornados near us. One only a few miles north. It supposedly hit the farm that I get hay from...

Boy, it is 7:15 already! Yikes! I spent the day with my dad shopping. We got a some plants... Mother's day presents... I better not list them. She might be reading... He spent a ton of money... ugh... will he ever learn? He complains that my mom teaches credit cards like they're cash, if you ask me, he does it worse.

One of the kittens died. It was expected. One of the yellow ones. She can't handle more than six.

I'm going to start a new entry.
To be continued. Same station. Same time. In a few minutes. After this commercial break.

K

I got bored...

What Sort of Romantic Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You're a Romantic Realist. That's quite a paradox, but a good one. You can appreciate love and all things related to romance, but you do it without getting caught up in the commercialized mess. You've got a good head on your shoulders, for the most part.

Suicide Prevention Week and Kittens! and a large sigh

I had no idea that it was suicide prevention week when I wrote that last post. That was quite the coinicidence! LOL

Rosie, my basketball-shaped cat, is no longer so big, for she has had 7 kittens! She always has a ton. All are yellow, like her, and two are stiped black, like the suspected daddy. She might have another one or two. I'll tell you if she does.

I've been really moody lately... probably because of politics over a novel I'm in at Pan... mud has been flying... It seems to have calmed down now, but there are injuries...

*large sigh*
Anon,
K

Jumping off the cliff into conclusions

When I say that I am taking a year off before going to college people think that I secretly mean that I do not think that I am emotionally ready. They are wrong. I was mature enough to move out and live on my own about three years ago, and my mother agrees. My childhood ended when I was ten. I became mature and was like an adult. I look back and wish that I had had more of a childhood, but I couldn't have. When I was thirteen people thought I was twenty-one. I still am not that age. Now people often think that I am younger than I am. Not because of how I act, but because of how I look. I guess I have this innocent look about me.

I smile a lot. Some days I smile so much that my cheeks hurt by the end of the day. I do not like my smile. My lips are small, and my teeth are small, so you see a lot of my gums. Even though I do not like how I look, it does not ever keep me from smiling. The world in the greater part is good. We are all still living. I do not have enough time to wear what I know on my sleeve or in this case on my face.

I'm going to continue on, but you may not care to read it, for it will be graphic about life and humans.

Two summers ago, I think it was two, I have grown so much in the past few months... I worked in a small herb shop in a small tourist town. I was just kind of the odd job worker. I cleaned, I stacked... I did what ever the witchy woman told me to. One afternoon she brought in a box of junk she had picked up. Among the things were many souvieners from World War I. Much of it from India. Some of these things were tiny little 2x3 photographs. Some were of beautiful scenery, some of the people, some of the Taj Maihal that looked just like they were out of magazines. Then I stumbled upon photographs of the most astoundishing sight. An Indian man had come to the conclusion that his life was worthless and that he should end it. He had placed his head on the tracks of the train and had watched his doom come to him. It severed it completly off. His hands came off too. The pictures showed his body at one place, his severed hands close by. His head was several feet away, completely intact. You could see his scared eyes.

My boss told me about how that many Indians did this in that time. Life was so bad that they saw no other alternative. It is just so sad that it seems that society has not improved.

Kids take their lives everyday. In our own country. In the past forty years it has gone up 200 percent. That is 5,000 teenage lives lost. This is not including kids under 13. Often people think that the world will not hit Iowa. A few months ago two young youth in Cedar Rapids, at my mother's old middle school for a fact, took their lives. They felt that they were being tortured there.

Violence also hit my middle school when I was there. One of my friends was punched repeatily in the face and eye because another girl had thought that she had called her a bitch. I witnessed this act. I wrote my testamony for the Police officer. My friend may have sneared at the girl, but never did she utter a word in her direction. I was thirteen.

Sixty percent of teenagers have thought about commiting suicide. Nine percent have tried. Ninty percent of those who go through it never ask for help before the event.

Help for teenagers who are thinking about suicide.

Silence

The silence was wrenching. The sun was shinning and the sounds of the road could hardly be heard. I look over to her. She is looking away. I look the other direction. The silence is broken. I talk about myself. She does not know much about me. The conversation goes on. It really is a conversation for she throws the ball back instead of dropping it. Once in a while it does drop though. Silence comes back. I say something again, getting nervous. Talking about things that I really do not know why I do. They are private things. She does not know much about me, and in reality she knows even less than I had thought in the beginning. Then the time comes to leave. She does not want to go. She has relaxed. She gives me a hug. The greatest gesture she has ever given. I will see her again soon. Hopefully there will be less silence.

Hiding from the truth

I hate it when people do not see their faults, and I hate it even more when I see them and then don't do anything about them. They hide. Everyone has faults. Everyone can try to get rid of them. Hiding from faults usually hurts others. When one is blind, you hurt others. It is disgusting. I hate it. No one likes it. Why don't people try to help themselves? They don't take up their responsibilty, and they let people down. It is disgusting.

What is Pan?

Well, I seem to be getting this question more now that I seem to have some readers that are not from there. So here you go:
Pan is short for Pan Historia (http://www.panhistoria.com). So if you take the two words Pan and Historia and translate them from Latin, you get "all" and "history". That is somewhat of what Pan is. Pan Historia is a writer's community where people from all over this green globe come together to write in novels and reference books. We write fiction and fact. We argue issues and come together for friendship. Pan Historia is a great place to either improve or create writing skills of all types. You find many friends at Pan Historia. People are eager to help and meet you. It is a place to relax and hang out, all the while learning about something.

And it is not just history. We have books and novels in EVERY genre. And if you don't find a book or novel that suits your taste then you can purchase PanNickles (currency) and create your own. Pan Historia at the moment is free to anyone who wishes to join. Please check it out!

P.S. Do any of my fellow umm... what do we call ourselves? Pannies? no... Historians? Pan Historians? Writers? well... fellow members of Pan Historia have anything to add?

I have finally found my theme song

Title: I Am Not The Only Cowboy
Album: The Future That Was
By: The Josh Joplin Group
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And it starts like this we crave to be kissed
by a moment complete in its happiness
Far away from the things we wish to escape
that lead us top think we are not awake
We are ourselves despite ourselves
this place gets smaller as the universe swells
We come to terms eventually, eventually, eventually.
I am not the only cowboy in this one horse metaphor
And I am not the only life guard who’s
washed up on the shore
CHORUS: Wake me up take me out
Calm me down when I’m in doubt
And I’m in doubt
Everyday

And words are like weight with density and shape modifying forms as they evaporate
You can choose the truth you can listen to light
you can lead the charge and still loose the fight
Far be it for me to claim anything
for I am just one in a state of being
I come to terms eventually, eventually, eventually
I am not the only proverb that never really fits
And I am not the only Caulfield catching more than kids

CHORUS

And so it ends as it begins as everything
that is infinite ascends
Into it’s time all things pass all things fade all things last
You are yourself despite yourself
this world gets smaller as the universe swells
We come to terms eventually, eventually, eventually
I am not the only boxer that hasn’t words to write
And I am not the only poet who’s much too scared to fight

CHORUS

I am not the only cowboy in this one horse metaphor

Confused, Tired, and just plain messed up

Today I recieved three large notes in my box. I rather not talk about two of them. But the third was a nice one. I recieved two pannickles from one of our blessed editors over at Pan. The best thing that has ever happened to me I think. I had only had a short conversation with him last night, and today he sent them to me. So that is nice, but the other two messages are confusing my emotions.

The conference today was good. The food was good as expected. Chinese buffet. Yum! My first workshop ended up being a bummer because it was the exact workshop I had done at the last conference I went to a while ago. In the afternoon I had to give a double workshop with one of my fellow state 4-H council members and my council advisor, which up until later this afternoon I thought hated my guts. I had my doubts for the workshop. We had not gotten together really to plan it, but my leader advisor had had it all planned out well so we each just chose an activity and did it. It went well and many people liked it. It was about youth/adult partnerships. People said that they learned a lot, and I think that they really did.

After the conference my bro and mother took me to this tiny little shop in campus town that is a fiber shop run by a tiny little woman. She seemed very nice, but shy. It was quant. After that we went to Hickory Park restaurant. I had a really good smoked pulled-meat sandwich with fries. It is a great place. Cheap, fun, relaxed. My brother and I eat got a sandwich. I was stuffed, but my mom had only applesauce so she and my brother split a sunday. The whole thing came to $12.61 plus tip. So good dinner-cheap.

I have been so blessed by people at Pan. They are the best people in the world. I'm not going to get into it right now. I'm tired.
Until later, anon,
Katherine

Words

I love words. I love the look of black words upon white pages. It is just so graceful. I think I have to do something for a career related to words. Not necessarily a writer, but maybe a book binder... or a book cover design artist. Not the art on it, but the design. You know, the text and picture on the cover. Books are judged by their covers so you have to have good design on it. Today I made a little tiny book. It is the size of a quarter page. It doesn't look very good. It's also not finished. It needs a cover. I just felt like doing something. Maybe later I'll make another one. A better one. I'm going to read a bit.

Back, I read a tiny bit of someone's blog. He is so intelligent. Unfortunatly he stopped blogging the first day I found him. He said, "I no longer feel I can write what I want or need to write. It was an experiment that has come to an end. A half-failure/half-success. A beaker bubbling over with mixed results." He seems to be Vegan. I have thought of becoming a vegetarian many times before. I've tried, but at times I crave a good bloody steak or crispy burnt hamburger. I just don't think about the animal when I eat it. I am a carnavore. That is how I'm supposed to think. Continued in the extension.
NOTE: You may not want to read the extended entry. It is quite graphic.

Tonight, in fact, we are eating rabbit. One of those that we raised. Rabbit is quite good, but again, I just cannot think about it while eating. I used to have to put the little noose around his neck right before my dad would bluggen them to death with a hammer. They scream when they die. The sound that you would think a babe would make if you were killing them. It is chilling. I have never had to watch it though. I would put it on, have my dad hold it, until I was far away. I would run down the hill with my hands over my ears, humming or singing so I did not have to hear it. The hammer does not kill them. It just stuns them. They bleed at the ears and nose, and then my dad cuts their heads off.

The first time we ever ate one of our own animals was when a friend of the family's came over. She and her husband butchered some chickens for us. My mom and I helped her pluck them. Then we barbequed them. They were very tasty. The next morning I went out to the chicken house to feed the hens. There in the grass were the four heads of the roosters we had eaten. Their beaks were open, and their eyes were gone because the fly maggots had eaten them. I had just about stepped on them. It was disgusting.
That was about 2 years ago. I've seen many things since then. I've gutted chickens with my bare hands. I've even lived through a war, but still when I find chicken heads in the grass my heart pounds.

Same old, same old

Another boring day. I tried studying a bit today. Too bored to even do that. It is grey outside. And damp. We're thinking of going to the movie tonight. We haven't gotten orders for a while. It is just boring.

I put a new feature on here. Look over to the left. See the little face. That is how I'm feeling. Isn't that nice?

Anon,
K

Oph!

Today I spent celebrating one of my aunts' birthday. That means she spends money on her sisters, two of her friends, and me. First we went to brunch. That was nice. Except it is hard being all cheerful when you don't feel like it. Then we went shopping. When I go shopping with my aunt it is a nightmare. She loves to buy things for me, but I have to be tortured first. The biggest problem is when she complains that their isn't a size smaller than extra-small while I'm trying to make a extra large fit. She's super thin. And it's not like I'm fat, and she's antorexic. She exercises 6-10 hours a day. And I'm just well.... big boned... LOL She not really my aunt in anyway except that she happened to be adopted by the same couple that adopted my mother. In fact my aunt is Korean! So she's small by nature. While I had to be born into a nice, large German family. But I do have one thing that is nice having my father's genes. My hair is thick. So thick that it has to be two feet long for me to be able to put it into a ponytail. I love my hair. But I'm boring you all... LOL but thanks for reading.

Oh, and I suppose that you want to know what I got. I got a pair of shoes. Oh, SHOES! I drifted off and forgot to tell you more about my aunt. She LOVES shoes. Her shoe closet is as big as half of my room. And I don't have a small room! It holds something like 250 shoe boxes on one side. She uses the other side for dresses. LOTS of dresses. If my aunt didn't give away three pairs of shoes to my mom everytime she saw her, my aunt's house would be full of her shoes. It is rediculous! Unfortantly my German genes prevented me from having the same size feet, so I don't get any of these shoes.... I have umm... six pairs of shoes (unless you count flip-flops. Then I have nine.) One pair of strapy fancy shoes, two pairs of sneakers, one pair of chunky dress shoes... oh, forget it! I'm boring you.... plus I'm boring myself...

I've decided to start exercising more. I want to be able to easily fit a size medium. That is only one size down. It won't be too hard. It would be nice if I had some encouraging words in the comment box... hint hint.... Just click the link at the bottom of this entry....

Well, almost 10!
K

"Only in growth, reform, and change, paradoxically enough, is true security to be found." - Anne Morrow Lindburg (born 1906) American writer, poet, and aviator