Mother

I.

Her smile honeyed warmth

Wraps around me

Stretches her love-shield, dresses wounds

Soft kisses all better

Uncries my eyes

It’s time for Sesame Street and pureéd broccoli

The little one is scared of the big world

And crawls into her mother’s lap

Buries her face in the safe warm floral patterns of her dress

Looks up into chocolate sweet eyes

Remember when, ostrichlike, i’d bury my head in the couch

Thinking no one could see me?

But you always knew where to find me.

II.

Virgin goddess running through thickets

The hounds fast on her heels

Lets out a wild call into the night

Limbs flying eyes blazing

She stops to shake out the moonlight

Then she sees him. Watching her

For once she does not react.

He was different.

I’ll let you catch me.

Just this once.

You can see the wild in the little one, can’t you?

III.

Little fat baby reaches for her mother’s face

Tries to pick fresh olives from her smile

Shiny perfect cheekbones grin down at

Little chubby girl.

She laughs and reaches for the fruit again

Little golden girl playing in the sand

Runs away skipping from the eager tide

Wraps her tiny body around Mommy’s calf

Dances in the showers of sunlight that fall from Mommy’s hair

See these eyes? They’re not tired.

Will you read me a story? I want to hear the one about Hazel again

IV.

Little good for nothing trouble maker

in her green velvet dress holding the hamsters

I know they’ll probably just fight

But I’m going to see if they’ll play nice this time

Little finger got in the way of angry rodent teeth

Drops of red on green velvet

But didn’t you always know you were it for me?

Little ballerina in a pink tutu jetês across the floor

Zig zags her way to the beam and smiles

I may be just five but I understand

That mirror is actually a window and

Mommy is watching me from the other side

You can see it in those big blue eyes

V.

Mother sitting adding figures on her machine

Little one tries to learn the keys

Mommy’s very busy, Honey, I’m keeping your Dad organized

Little one wishes she were as smart as Mommy

Little one draws carefully

Copying her t-shirt…a scuba diving Snoopy

New baby draws all over Snoopy

Little one starts to cry

Mommy takes the white-out

See? All better

Little one sniffle-smiles

Skinny girl blonde ponytail runs and runs

But can’t seem to ever get to the ball

Mother watches, yells GO KATIE GO!

Yells Oh my God that girl is twice her size!

Yells I love you!

VI.

Mother is a constant, a count on me, a safety,

a soulmate

a sunshine.

Mother is a puts on my dress. A pick me up when they knock me down. A wipe off the gravel and clean the cuts. A kiss on the forehead. A song. A face the world. A pair of wings.

A little bigger one presses the keys and Mommy sings

Even when the girl messes up Mommy always finds her place in the song

Like it was her own heart

A girl is digging rivers in her backyard.

Once again the poor hamsters are part of the plan

Mom comes out to see the progress

Saves Frisky from drowning

Even when I fought you tooth and nail, I always knew you were right.

VII.

Mother’s eyes go back centuries.

Soulful, huntress gaze.

She watches time crumble empires

Sees the evil in the world and vows in her

Deepest heart to protect her little girl

A girl gets kissed on a hammock

The whole next day she knows Mom knows

But when she confesses it turns out to be a surprise

A girl sees red for the first time and cries

Mom barely conceals her joy

As she cradles the shaking shoulders

It’s ok you are a woman now

You are now among the lucky and proud

A girl grows up building sandcastles in her eyes

A mother keeps a watchful distance

She will always know when her daughter needs her.

this can't be good for my health

Hey all. This is a tad bit strange, since I probably don't you, but I imagine this is kind of like meeting someone random at a party where you're supposedly acquainted with everyone. In these situations I just tend to talk excessively in an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness which usually leads to me discussing something inappropriate and/or personal that is probably not included in the limited realm of "casual party conversation." And that's the point where I just start chugging Corona and pretend I wasn't actually saying anything. It usually works. Hopefully I'll have more sense than to do that here, but we'll just have to wait and see.

The truth is, I used to have a blog. It was in '03 (well I think I started it in '01 or something, mid high school, but it met its grisly end in early '05). People generally liked it, which's good, I suppose, though at the time I was so entrenched in D-nial and los angeles (straightsororitygirl) bullshit that I can hardly recognize my own prose. There are a couple of good entries in there, but I'm not going to link to them because that would lead to everyone finding entries that I wish had never existed in the first place.

Part of the problem with that blog was that it represented my then-absurdly high level of trust in the inherent goodness of humanity and (very misguided) belief in the fact that no one would intentionally try to fuck me over, especially not through my writing. Then someone did, in fact, use my writing against me in order to fuck me over. This led to my sorority (I know, I know, just understand I was in the middle of erecting a complicated facade) getting in a lot of trouble. I mean a LOT. Purely by accident did I incriminate them, I might add. Who knew that making us drink jack daniels while dressed in leopard tights was hazing?? It was fun! (fun? really, katie? really??)

Regardless, I had to stop that blog (which, by the way, was not actually about sororities, though admittedly and embarrassingly tainted by their omnipotent influence), and suffer the consequences of free speech in a dictatorship run by women who've inhaled too many tanning bed solvents. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've always been a writer, that really never changed. I just finally realized that while my life continues to remain in this bizarre purgatory between student life and "the real world," I should probably do something with myself and my free time. Plus cocktail waitressing really stresses me out (as stupid as that sounds, it's the truth, for some reason my brain is much better at abstract literary analysis than remembering that someone didn't want salt on their margarita). Plus I'm really different now. Like, really. This is what all the cool UCLA grads do anyway, duh, despite the fact that "cool UCLA grad" is probably an oxymoron.

So, in an attempt to validate my existence, and because I'm suffocating under the noxious vapors of 1) LA smog, 2) post-grad depression/ennui 3) insatiable anxiety and 4) a general sense of idealistic restlessness, I decided to start a new blog. Because it's just one more thing besides facebook and myspace to distract you from your responsibilities...consider it a gift. l'chaim!!

-katie

from my sophomore year in college...

yes, i made it through. we all did. this quarter has been one of incredible change and awakening for me. i've never in my life been so emotionally rocked. i realized how naive i truly was. i learned so much...and not just about italian cinema...about people, friends, trust and betrayal, human nature, pain...life. i had never been so stressed in my life, had never worked this hard, had never felt so lost, so hurt, so broken, so tired, so sick. but at the same time...i was given so much help, strength, care, love empathy. how is it possible that some people can be so cruel and others so incredibly loving? is it? it must be...because i knew both.

i learned the simple entertainment of a morning after hangover celebration in the dining halls. how to create fun when there was nothing. how to learn 100 pages in 1 hour. write 10 pages in 1 night. take 3 tests in 1 day. spend 72 hours on 1 project. take 8 motrin for 1 fever in 1 day. be awake for 23 hours asleep for 1 hour. laugh for hours at 1 joke. worry for days about 1 problem. be saved by 1 smile.

i didn't know how low people could stoop. but i also didn't know how strong i was. strong in mind, that is.

in body...my lifestyle finally caught up to me. please, guys, don't EVER take your health for granted. it's easy to do. but realize that you can't do anything when it's gone. my mom told me: do you realize that you were born with a perfect body that can do everything it's supposed to do? you have no mental illness or inherited disease, your legs work, your eyes see clearly, your arms and fingers and feet and neck and head do exactly what you tell them....this is the only body you get. don't abuse it. treat it well.

and for those of you who think i'm dying or something, i'm not, haha. but i realized that no matter how important it seems to pull 4 all nighters in a row (finishing a film project, studying for a test, and writing a term paper)...that it destroys your immune system and leads to nothing but harm. believe me. grades don't matter if you don't survive college.

it seemed like the weather this winter was in perfect synchronicity with the general sentiment of the place. does the mood follow the weather? or is the sky a reflection of the mood? i don't know. the most common kind was what i like to call "white weather"...i tried to describe it once in a beach scene:

When I pull up the shade, the room is filled with a harsh, pale light that assails my face and eyes. I squint as my pupils contract in a painful effort to adjust to the sudden glare. Blinking several times, I manage to bring the scene into focus and gaze out over the empty expanse of sand and sea. The beach is a deserted ghost town; the only traces of human presence are the pieces of trash that drift aimlessly with small gusts of wind along the ground. Far to the left I try to make out the silhouette of the Wedge, but heavy low mist and fog obscure my view. A mass of cloud stretches out over the ocean, spreading like spilled cream and casting a long shadow on the surface of the dark water. A startling gust of air whips through the palm trees, bending and twisting the weak frames of their skinny trunks. They lean hard, powerless to resist the violent wind. The deep sea is dull steel in a murky reflection of the dismal sky. In the distance I can see ominous thunderclouds forming, driving heavy sheets of rain through the thick air. They are prowling wolves whose dark fur ripples threateningly across the horizon. The ocean is violent today. A billowing red flag spells warning as heavy dark waves smash upon the shore. The choppy swells rise and fall erratically as set after set pummels the barrier of boulders, spraying white water and foam high into the air. The crest of each wave is wild with spindrift as the winds pick up. All at once, the sharp contrasts of the colorless landscape are too much to bear and an acute pain shoots through the back of my eyes. I quickly turn away, blinking hard and overwhelmed with headache from the dizzying glare of the endless, white sky.

And yet, there's always hope:

Today the air is filled with a warm, golden brilliance. Shimmering waves of heat oscillate just inches above the scorching sand. I instantly can feel the memories of burning soles as I kick up bursts of sand while sprinting to the cool relief of the water. The Pacific beckons playfully to the shining blue sky as smooth green swells form calmly in the distance. These waves are as gentle as they are immense. They carry the daring surfers on long diagonal rides, breaking in a continuous curl effortlessly behind them. Watching this, I am suddenly right beside them, feeling the wind on my body and the thrilling speed as I maneuver deftly down the face of the wave. I can see my board as it slices cleanly through the green wall of water and watch the faces of the awed swimmers as I fly past: spellbound, frozen in time. In an instant the breaking whitewater surrounds me and I steer into the tumultuous rapids left with no other choice. Seconds later I explode out of the surf, gasping for air, with messy hair over my eyes and a triumphant smile spreading across my face.

Little sand pipers dart along the short, stopping occasionally to stab at the recondite sand crabs. They scatter as two small girls covered in sand skip by laughing. The beach is a variegated mixture of so many towels and throngs of people. People playing, resting, tanning. The lifeguard sits arrogantly in his esteemed post, gazing out over the sparkling waves of his domain. The sunlight glints off his well-oiled arms as he leans forward slowly. His watchful stance reveals a certain compassion for these carefree beachgoers who exist so delicately under his protection. Underneath his reserved composure is the knowledge of the stealthy rip tides and sharks that lurk just beyond their perception.

I’m anxious to run outside and feel the blazing heat on my skin. Only two hours left. In two hours Amy arrives. Amy arrives and we will be released into the brilliant day. Free to eat melting ice cream bars that drip onto the sizzling pavement and dive through the foamy surf as we join in the celebration of summer.

So there you go. And now I'm here in L.A. The city with no weather...but sometimes, sometimes it rains.

rain is incredible. i love how it smells...or rather...how everything ELSE smells when it rains. wet pavement, asphalt, clean air, drenched trees, and wood, and dirt. it doesn't feel so much like a city during the storms. most people treated the constant downpours as a hassle...running quickly from one shelter to another, gripping their umbrellas or their hoods...glaring at the sky. what i remember the best is danielle and i sprinting through a cloudburst at midnight from the dorms to a party...about a 10 minute run at the least. we showed up looking like drowned cats but we didn't care. we danced off all the wetness over the next two hours. and then went running in the sprinklers that randomly went on. THAT is what a party should be.

i guess really, the only part about rain that sucks is walking to class. but then again, when it's raining, that's a perfectly good reason NOT to go. Life will teach you that.

this quarter i also developed a brand new appreciation for the library. i like how it smells....of aged, well thumbed books, the sharp acid odor of polished marble floors, the air...stagnant but not offensive. hanging air, hot, musty, and acrid...thick with dust and decades past...like the remnants of thoughts that have been floating within these walls since the fifties. nervous sweat...soft mixture of perfumes and cologne, pheromones...it smells of anticipation in here, expectation, hope and fear. the subtle scent of potential.

i love walking down janss steps. standing at the top of them, i feel like a very important person in the world. it's like a view from the top of my mind, where things are clear and the whole universe focuses in perspective. i can see where i am heading and that's where i want to go. the campus stretches out before me in bending, twisting red brick, gray sidewalk, and green manicured lawn. it's picture perfect. i walk down them and i feel like i'm striding into my future. even though all i'm really doing is going back to the dorms.

the best though, really, is the campus in late afternoon right before sunset. that peculiar time of day where it has been cooling down since noon but everything suddenly gets a burst of renewed warmth, the last bit of energy the sun has left. when the light turns yellow and orange as it struggles to bend out of the horizon and across the landscape, like broad arcs of gold, casting heat and shadows in its path. everything looks beautiful under this melted butter glow. the brick buildings shine like they've been polished...a deep, patriotic red, and the trees take on that old crayola color: yellow-green as the scattered beams of light dart playfully across their foliage. the rest of the sky goes almost white, as if it does not want to upstage the brilliant show that the light puts on. people all look healthier under this light. students trudging home from class get highlights in their hair and if they happen to glance at me, i can see the true color of their eyes reflected in the penetrating light. caramel, aqua, slate. finally, the sun dips too low for the gold light to remain. the yellow slowly fades and is replaced by the soft pink coral tint that flows from the horizon, making the surrouding clouds glow with a surreal, radioactive persistence. the rest of the sky darkens to a deep steel blue as the sun begins its finale. the only benefit of the pollution here is the spectacular sunsets that we get. bright orange, pale yellow, barbie pink, fading faster and faster into lavenders, blues, and grays. the tip of the reddish, glowing ball finally disappears leaving the sky all alone to keep up the show. it manages to maintain it for a few minutes, hold all the hanging colors intact, their streaks and patterns preserved, like they were so many christmas lights, but then the night is too much, the sunset backs down as darkness takes over and settles on the land. only then will i get up, close my book, and walk home.

so it's now 5:30 in the morning. i hope my antibiotics work. i hope i acutally study for my english final tomorrow. i hope mexico will be amazing. i hope my family is happy.

this spring i hope will be a spring of R's: rest, rejuvenation, rebirth, and rejoicing.

and don't get me wrong. i don't regret winter. yes i had plenty of hard times, but i'm thankful now that i went through it, you have to learn some time. and there were tons of happy moments too. like when i figured out how important the people i love truly are.

i want to thank all my friends...you know who you are...who listened and felt and laughed and cried with me through everything. your stories make me think..make life interesting. especially the stories that are OUR stories. i hope someday we look back at this story and laugh. in fact, i already do. i want you to know that you all enrich my life more than you'll ever know, i'm lucky to have you. thank you. really.

-katie