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I woke up on the right side of the bed today. I tiggered myself off of my mattress and bounded into the kitchen, where the smell of hazelnut coffee and peanut butter and banana sandwiches filled my yearning nostrils. As I munched on these tasty morning treats, I put on my cute little yoga gear and started to look forward to my 9:00am Vinyasa class.

Stove off, heat turned down, bed made, towel off floor, door locked; I made my way out of the house and to my car. I opened my car door, excited to get jiggy with some of Beirut’s french horn, and I proceeded to spill about a gallon of coffee all over the drivers seat. Luckily I had my yoga mat which doubles as a tarp, I protected my bum from the river of caffeine which would never make it to my mouth and proceeded on my journey. Cue- French horn, window down, sun in my face. During this ten minute drive to the studio I decided upon my intention for my yoga class: to be more intentional. If I were a bit more present in the act of transferring the coffee to my travel mug- maybe I would have screwed on the cap properly.

Lets Tarantino this a bit – I parked the car, walked into class, practice was amazing, focused on my intention to be more ‘intentional,’ left class, felt rejuvenated and really ‘with-it,’ walked out of class and forgot my yoga mat inside the building. Wow Katie, really?

Enter magical cow:

Then I saw this guy and he made me smile. Everything that is happening is happening because it is supposed to be. Instead of chastising myself for forgetting the mat and throwing my whole practice to the wind, I need to smile at myself and try to understand what is happening in this specific moment in time. It isn’t about always remembering and being totally ‘with-it’, it is really about understanding the particularities that make you- you. And about loving them. Yes, I spill coffee, but I can also calm my mind and embrace my inner warrior just moments later.

I hope you enjoyed these tidings and my glowing cow. <3

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Tonight is the last night I will spend in this apartment. All that I have left in my bedroom is the mattress that I sit on, alone. And a bunch of paper monsters that are taped to the ceiling, just out of reach. I am not sure what hurts more, the monsters or the solitary mattress. So here I am, writing this blog entry while eating leftovers out of tupperware with my fingers. Cold leftovers, of course, because I already moved the microwave.

I am not exactly sure what happened in 2011. As the months progressed, I felt less and less in control of everything that was going on in my life. It was sort of like standing in the middle of a tornado, watching people, places and events whiz by me without being able to pull the emergency break. From time to time, when I was not paying attention, everything would come to a grinding halt. Those moments of serenity were rare; the chaos would suddenly make all of the sense in the world.

2011 was filled with the heaviest tears and the most intense laughter. I started the year in Mexico, and I am about to end it in Rhode Island, at work. On the continuum of life, I have been unable to find any sort of balance. I spend most of my days fluctuating between extremes: Up, down, hot, cold, happy, sad, loud, silent. Do I want to be warm? Or okay? I don’t know.

I drag a box out of the desolate living room and teeter on it’s edge while I fish the paper monsters off of the ceiling. I cry a bit more. Do they belong in the trash or in some sort of shoe box filled with other shattered dreams? The trash is my receptacle of choice. Maybe next year I can say hello to reality and stop waiting for the unicorns and rainbows to carry me away.

GH

Slutty pig costume, satanism, sexy pig, ice truck killer nails, occupy satan, bathtub voyeur and golden cherub sculpture: some of the varied terms that direct unwitting internet perusers to my bizarre blog. What kind of site am I running here? it gets weirder and weirder by the day, and you are still reading? you have a sick mind. ;-)

anyway, are spikes still cool?

i love love love love the pink UNIF hell raiser shoe. i want them!

Muscle memory is a curious phenomena; as a particular movement is practiced through focused repetition, neurological and physiological changes begin to occur simultaneously. When we master a task it becomes imprinted into our brains and our motor skills can reproduce it with minimal effort.

I used to be perfectly happy keeping my ‘hula hoop’ moving in concentric circles around my waist. Then my brain started to get bored. My synapses were firing effortlessly, directing my hips in a counter-clockwise motion. My neural pathways were operating with ease and I no longer had to think about this process. A challenged neuron is a happy neuron; I have since embarked on an amazing journey and I am bringing my beautiful new hoop with me.

Last weekend I was trying to learn a new trick and was failing over and over again. I would succeed from time-to-time, but the whole process was shaky and ugly looking. My spectator told me to give it a break, “you don’t want to develop bad muscle memory.”

Negative muscle memory is a curious phenomena to ponder, can our brains and muscles learn ‘bad’ behaviors through repetition? While considering this possibility, I remembered that our hearts are muscles. For ancient Egyptians, “it was the heart and not the brain that was the seat of emotion, thought, will and intention.” Civilized cultures have long-since dispelled the rumor that our hearts are capable of higher thinking-  Hearts pump blood.

However, I would like to cling to the human heart as a beautiful metaphor for muscle memory and our capacity to train our muscles in both positive and negative manners. Please bare with me here; throw King Tut and Ms. Cleopatra a bone. I believe that our capacity to truly love and accept one another is a behavior that becomes innate with practice. I must practice before I will be able to effortlessly lift my hoop above my head. I must consistently look at my neighbor as someone who is deserving of unconditional love and acceptance. After a while, I will never drop my hoop and I will always regard my human counterpart as beautiful and worthy.

Furthermore, I agree with my spectator’s interjection; we must take a step back and give our negative behaviors a break before they become cemented in the fibers of our muscles and brains. As a collective society we have spent centuries learning how to alienate each other; the sensitive muscle memory of our hearts is not one to forget. We revel in eachother’s differences and use them as grounds for hatred or mere ignorance: this has become a natural tendency of startling ease.

I encourage each and everyone of my readers to reform the muscle memory of your hearts. Start with small repetitive behaviors: consistently find positive attributes in your neighbors. This will not be an easy task as first, you must practice love and acceptance every day of your lives. But I assure you, it gets easier. After a while, your heart will be healed and it will start loving on it’s own.

Today I realized that some human beings can not figure out what to do with me. I confuse people. I have little use for practical clothing but I find a standard dictionary and cardboard boxes to be incredibly worthwhile accessories. I may not be able to maintain longterm relationships, but I can tell you why: according to Freud, Nietzsche, Jung, Vattimo…..

I have an entire song about chocolate chip cookies and I will sing it to you, even as you walk away from me and criticize my pitch. But realistically that won’t happen, because I am so damn cute that you can’t stand it. You may walk away because of cuteness overload, but not from my lack of vocal mastery.

Excuse me, do you know who I think I am? My confidence sickens you, but you also think, ‘man she has got to be joking.” But I am not. I have ADHD. I like fashion and pretty things. I also like tails, furry things, bacon, lighting large structures on fire, watching my friends light large structures on fire, whomp whomp whomp and rainbows. and sparkles. I think that I am pretty awesome. I think that my friends are also pretty awesome. I LOVE BEING ALIVE!!!!

Yesterday I went to the grocery store. Upon parking, my toes frantically searched the floor of my toaster for shoes. There were no shoes. However, I did have six books, a mexican blanket, two hula hoops and a snorkel. I may not be able to buy nutella and grapes, but I am totally ready for the underwater, south-of-the-border rave in the library.

So, in conclusion. I have a 4.0 GPA. I enjoy reading and writing and I do both with ease. You know what I always say: A novel a day keeps the idiot boyfriends away. Actually, I never said that. I also like to get really weird, swing my tail around and dress up in LED lights, masks and crotchless body-suits.

are you uncomfortable yet?

 

photo by DK.

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