School Days and The Nursery

Posted on by heykat

Hello, all!  In the last post I finally caught you up from the cliffhanger I left back in September when I was very close to giving up on Dallas.  As fate would have it, Dallas hasn’t given up on me.

I described a bit about being quite busy at the tail end of last year.  It felt like everything was coming together so quickly and I was completely unprepared for it. Just before this new direction took off I was already getting comfortable with the idea of moving back to Houston and reconciling with myself that perhaps I needed another long stint of travel to clear my head and reinvest in the blog, YouTube channel and art projects. I think I wouldn’t have minded a roadtrip around the states, but I am so grateful finally to be working in nonprofit. This is what I’ve wanted since before I left the oil and gas industry.

After I agreed to the job offer, I had about a month to find an apartment.  Pigeons aside, this place is ok.  I enjoy my balcony when they aren’t there shitting on it and I’ve been experimenting with potted gardening. This place is also much quieter than the last.  It’s like I traded in neighbors in their twenties with no sense of consideration for working professionals who understand 10pm curfews and cheap building construction. Moving to a third floor unit with no elevator –no elevator– was exhausting, so I hope things continue being ok here.

Luckily I was able to get a bit moved in before I started the new gig because – that was a lot in the beginning. A lot of information, a lot of rebuilding broken processes, and a lot of mental capacity used up every day that left me welcoming lazy evenings on the couch with Netflix. Soon came the holidays, family time, the winter air and my attention was far turned away from updating the blog. Ringing in the new year also brought upon the first day of my winter semester.  

Of college.

Surprise! Yours truly has reentered the educational system for an unfinished degree.  You may be further surprised to hear that I was so pumped about the idea of working for a school (before I had the worst job interview ever) that I decided I needed the degree if this was the direction my career was headed. I have to commend myself for getting so motivated to follow through and condemn the universe for being a jerk to me on reaching that point.

I dipped my toes straight away into an accelerated 8-week summer course and a regular 10.5-week course, which was beyond tricky to balance with a full time job. Unfortunately, the pace of chapter readings and homework assignments was too much for me to handle both classes so I dropped the longer course (because all of 4 days into the school semester, it was too late to drop the accelerated class for a full refund). I noted not to take another accelerated class and powered through the summer.

Faced with the potential transition back to Houston, I relinquished studies for the fall semester thinking I didn’t have the focus nor the money for classes. Once the new apartment and job were settled, I signed up for 2 (regular length) classes for winter, which is a perfectly manageable load for anyone who doesn’t work full time, have to cook for herself, desire a social life, or upkeep a home.

You may have realized that 10.5 weeks for a class is rather short. That’s because it is. It’s a bittersweet experience enrolled at a quarter-semester university. The classes are over before you know it, but you’re working twice as hard next to the 2-semester institutions.

Winter was brutal. 

I managed to get an A and A- in my classes, but trust when I tell you I had little time for ANYTHING else. Natural Reader Text became my best friend, allowing me to listen to chapter readings while I cooked and cleaned. Although, the only real cleaning done was laundry and dishes. 

Socializing was but maybe once out a week, but only after spending a few hours on something for school first. School and the new job were my whole gd life for those 10.5 weeks.  It was ok at first, but my mental health eventually took a toll.  I felt like I was getting pulled apart limb by limb, giving away myself to every possible thing – except myself. What me time I had was dedicated to an hour of mindless watching something on YouTube or Netflix, and sleep.
It was too cold to exercise.

One overwhelming positive out of that torture was that I thoroughly enjoyed my course on sustainability. Self-sustainability is a hot interest of mine because it’s something with which I struggle. But this course opened up a whole new world of community engagement, efforts and how sustainable practices help people, economics and the earth. I learned a lot from the reading prompts and my independent research, and walked away from the class feeling empowered and enlightened. That’s the kind of experience I desire from learning.

For the spring semester I’ve gone easier and enrolled in only 1 class which is a couple days shy of ending. I plan to take only 1 over the summer as well. Taking 2-3 classes per semester would enable me to graduate in 2 years, however, I am not about that miserable workaholic life.

The world is constantly changing. I do not know how my life will look or what goals will have changed a year from now, so I may as well take it a little easier and have the time to enjoy other important parts of my life.

Family, in fact, has suddenly become one of those more important elements.

My sister announced to the family last December that her and hubby are expecting a little bundle in June (this month?!) and we are all beyond the moon excited for them! The new addition will be the first unity baby, permanently joining two families into one.
Not living nearby has stirred up some emotional moments, but I can’t wait to be an auntie. I will need the free time from a relaxed school semester to get back into knitting cutesy things and spending more weekends in the Houston area.

My last trip down to H-town was in early May when I wrapped up the nursery mural my brother-in-law and sister asked me to paint. I think it’s the largest painting I’ve ever done – and possibly the most difficult! I chose oil as the medium because I favor it over acrylic, but I think the biggest hurdle was not having a clean canvas to work on.
To all the other creatives out there commissioned by family to paint bedroom murals: request your loved ones sand down the existing paint and texture to make the wall canvas easier to work. Though there is a caveat; if you’re painting mountains, then consider leaving a little texture for some sick looking mountain veins.

Halloween: A Hoot of a Tale

Posted on by heykat

It seems as though Halloween was a very long time ago, doesn’t it?
(12 weeks?!) 
Notorious events in the world have taken place and so many things in my own life have changed since then.  The most welcoming of which was ringing in a new year and it’s something I’d like to toast to you all before I jump into this post.

We did it, you guys!  We made it out of 2020! 

Of course, the slate wasn’t wiped clean coming into 2021, but any chance for something new feels promising and I think we are all very past due for something promising. 

I wish you all the best this year and always. <3


Although so much time has passed since that most beloved night of mischief, the days revolving around my Halloween night are a grand tale that couldn’t be passed over.  I wish I had gotten around to posting this sooner, but as many of us are already privy to, it’s hard finding time for extracurricular activities when there’s a full-time job to manage.  Speaking of which, I might like to write more about how that’s going for me (in the next post) since re-entering the working world last July.

Without further ado, I present a spooktacular story that occurred many moons ago.  

I spent the weekend before Halloween face-painting in front of the camera with the hope of uploading a few different how-to faces on YouTube.  I managed to upload 1 of the 3 attempted.  I elected to post this video solely because it was well executed and not as common as a mermaid face (which I didn’t do as well as other videos already online).  
I painted a nifty barn owl face that I wore to work some years ago. 
That following Monday, my coworker arrived to work showing off a brand-new owl purse her Nana had gotten her.  She proclaimed how much she loved owls and I wondered if I had been oblivious to that knowledge for the past 2 months I worked with her.  I didn’t dwell much on the double dose of owl, however, until a couple of days later when a friend casually asked about my Halloween plans and then suggested I dress up as an owl. 

Surely, he saw the video I just uploaded.

He hadn’t, he said.
I thought that really, really weird, but dismissed the possibility of a synchronicity as a jest.  He had to have seen the video and was totally screwing with me, no?

Well, the next day I went out with my good friend and her husband to celebrate her birthday.  Courtesy of the restaurant, our meal wrapped up with a sweet treat to share, but we all agreed that more was to be had after that teasing slice of cake.  I suggested a bakery up the road I’d been meaning to try and discovered they had not been either.
We popped over and had a look around, goggling over which delectable sweets to choose.  I was eyeing a shelf of cookies when my friend mentioned some cute mugs for sale.  I turned towards her and saw owl mugs. 
Like, carved-in-the-shape-and-painted-like-an-owl mugs (available in 2 colors).

Ok.

My heart skipped and my shoulders and insides tensed as I kind of felt a bit frightened in that moment.  I stared at the mugs wondering what the fuck as I cooed at her, oooh, yeah, they’re cute.  I didn’t say anything more as we moved on to order a sampler of miniature pies and tarts.  I transferred my focus back to the evening, tucking away what I perceived to be something auspicious occurring around me.

The crazy owl business, however, was long forgotten by the next day; Halloween preparations for my eventful evening took immediate precedence.  I had scored a ticket to an improv comedy show and was invited to a small get-together for afterwards (of which I was particularly ecstatic for because parties were forbidden in the year of 2020).

I had costume ideas for the evening but questioned how much effort to put into them when half of my face had to be covered at the comedy show.  Last minute, I decidedly threw together a kind of pop art skeleton look to accompany my glow-in-the-dark skeletal shirt.

Complete with black cat earrings.

The outdoor event was the perfect setup for a spooky show where organizers had grouped seats of 2 and 4 dotted around their dimly lit parking lot and filled each chair with candy and glow sticks.  To the backs of the audience, a full moon further set the stage for a night of tricks, treats and laughs.  To the left was a beer tent and a merchandise table.  I helped myself to a drink and took a seat dead front of the audience. 
I love when people are afraid to be in the front because I always get a great seat.

The hour not only was a much needed comic relief, but I felt extremely honored when the host announced that it was their first night open since doors had closed to the public in March. 
I’ve missed live improv comedy.
I left feeling light-hearted and in reminisce of Station Theatre, a comedy club I frequented before leaving behind my Houston Heights apartment and venturing off for Spain. 

I was last to arrive at the Halloween party, but no one minded as everyone was full and merry from an evening feast of grilled meats and liquor.  I helped myself to a plate and a drink and joined the outdoor festivities around a fire pit.
It was late for a typical evening out for me, but I remained alert with excitement, not retreating back home until half past midnight.  I proceeded to stay up for another hour (or 2) to watch an episode of The Queen’s Gambit.  Daylight savings was sparing me an extra hour for a frightfully good night and I was glad to stay up late and still get up early.

The following morning, a faint and seemingly distant alarm stirred my senses from a dead-ass sleep.  It’s faintness penetrated my dream until I groggily awakened to consciousness.  This was not the sound of my phone alarm.
I sat up in bed to a dark apartment and pulled out my earplugs.  The beeping continued. The sound was close, but it wasn’t coming from within my home.  Fully alert, I cautiously approached the front door and tapped the knob to check for heat before slowly opening it.  I didn’t see smoke nor smelled it, but the fire alarms in the hallway were ringing and blinking and I watched my neighbors sleepily vacate their apartments. 

I closed my door.  I didn’t feel immediate danger, but just as well hurried to grab my phone, a jacket, shoes and keys.  Any actual signs of a fire and I would have snatched up my cat, stuffed her in the nearest bag and run out without a thought for anything else.  Under these less threatening circumstances, I felt her safer and less traumatized left untouched on my bed.

Upon leaving, my neighbor across from me and I opened and closed our doors in unison.  We smiled, said hello and followed everyone else down the hall to the main stairs.

Truck 11

It was dark outside. 
We stood safely away from the building with our fellow residents awaiting the fire department before I checked the time on my phone.  Ahh, the best Halloween-daylight savings prank ever; I had been asleep for all of 4 hours.

My neighbor and I chatted through the wait for firefighters, through their inspection and the ok to re-enter the building. 
We got on so well that we exchanged phone numbers.
I went back to bed and managed to kind of sleep another couple of hours.  I later awoke to sunlight, feeling tired and lazy, yet amused with the eventful holiday weekend.

My neighbor and I met up a few days later at a brewery.  In the wee hours of the past Sunday morning, we had discovered we were both from Houston and chatted a little about things to do in Dallas.  During the more relaxed meetup at the brewery, we covered backgrounds, careers, likes and education.  It turns out that my neighbor is a graduate from Rice University. 
For those of you who don’t know, the mascot for Rice University is:

An owl.

You may be thinking, oh, woooow – that’s not very strange, Kat. 
Maybe, but let me just sum up the whole spookiness of my Halloween story real quick; the fire alarm in my apartment building went off when I met this person, who I had lived across from for 2 months, and there were owl omens attached to myself and 3 other people I know in the week leading up to that moment.

There’s also something else that I hadn’t realized until after our meetup, which I’ll get into shortly. 

We spoke for a while over a beer and a bite before she had to leave for an evening work meeting.  The company and conversation were nice, but oddly, the original vibe we had shared was off.  She wasn’t the same kind of bubbly and friendly as when we met and I felt ridiculously nervous, which she probably sensed as I’m easy to read. 
As for myself, I think it was jitters over the potential of making a friend and wanting to make a good impression.  For her, maybe she had work on the brain since she had to be back at it after only a couple hours’ break.  Overall I had a nice time, but… I couldn’t tell if she did.

We parted without plans to meetup again, but figured I could invite her to join me for coffee sometime soon. 

Through the weekend and following week, I must have run into her 4 times on my way in and out of the apartment building.  And with every next time I saw her, I felt strongly that maybe I should invite her to do something.  There was one instance I saw her cleaning out her car as I was on my way to work and the way she looked up and smiled reminded me of something.  I later recalled the familiarity of how her face looked in that moment.

I think it was right after I had officially moved all of my things up here – so I had been at the apartment for almost a week – when I went outside to the parking lot to have a cigarette and de-stress.  I noticed someone crossing the lot (like, 20 feet away from me) and I decided to say hello to this person as she neared the stair entry.  She looked at me and smiled.

I am almost certain it was my neighbor.  It’s the same face I saw when she looked up from her car. 
It’s funny to me when I pieced this together and wondered about the how’s and why’s of people being inexplicably drawn to others.

After running into her so many times and feeling that pull to invite her somewhere, I finally extended a last-minute invite for coffee a few days later. 

She couldn’t make it. 

A lot of time has passed and I haven’t seen my neighbor since then.  I have kept a little in touch with how’s-it-going texts over the holidays, yet I no longer feel that strong draw towards her.
Though, I am still oh-so curious to find out more.  

I feel like that 2-week period was significant and I’d like to know why. 
Perhaps the significance had passed after that window or perhaps we never miss the significance of encounters.  Maybe they are only circumstantially delayed.

I think finally finishing this blog entry has fueled that curiosity a little bit more and I will be reaching out to her again soon. I wish sometimes the universe would just tell me what the fuck, ya know? Instead of feeling like I’m on a blind treasure hunt.
I will be sure to keep you posted if I uncover the booty of my mysterious owl synchronicities!

Moving to Dallas Part II

Posted on by heykat

Hello there!  It’s been a rather long while since I dropped the c-bomb on you.
Forgive me, guys. I’ve had a difficult time trying to wrap up this part II because it’s centered around the ongoing strangeness of this year along with my personal thoughts and recent experience of which I don’t feel wholly comfortable expressing.
This is a delicate subject to discuss as none of us are experiencing the pandemic in the same way as the next person. Mine has been a mixed bag. So, I’ve been writing, rewriting, dragging my feet and rewriting again, trying to find a conclusion to this segment without sounding angry, depressing or insensitive.

First things first, the most vexing question on everyone’s mind;

ummmm, are you ok???  

Yep, totally fine. As in, I’m alive and nothing terrible happened.
We’re gonna get deeper into the many layers of what fine really means, though.

But next order of business, finally, are the answers to the last lingering questions from the previous post:

Did I win the election?  I should have as I didn’t try very hard.
Did I get a puppy?  I did not.
Was I hospitalized?  Nope.
Did I make it to Dallas?  I moved as scheduled.

Despite some grievances, the all-around outcome of my scenario was actually fortuitous, in a way. Totally serious. 
I was able to move without worrying about how much time to take off from work since I wasn’t allowed to be at work. And then I was able to claim the work loss through the state of Texas.
Yep.
Unemployment benefits can be claimed if you are able to work, but can’t.  I was able to work from home as I felt well enough to do so, but my new employer didn’t allow it. 
That was a shitty discovery, but better to know up front so as best to plan ahead for disasters down the road. And by planning, I mean, I need to make sure there’s enough money to cover my ass for an extended period of time in case of a mandatory stay at home order, because I don’t get paid if I’m not in the office.  #jobsecurity
And bonus! I went from 200 hours of accumulated paid vacation from my former employer to nada. (But I knew this much when I signed the offer letter.)  That’s right, I have zero PTO available to cover said disasters until February, at which point I’ll start accumulating 6.6 hours per month…  #supersecure

Obviously, my sense of humor is still intact, but… how am I really? 
Emotionally, a wreck. 
Health-wise, still fine.  
The c-word for me was something akin to a mild cold.  I was fatigued the first 3 days and mostly laid around (at my hotel, where I first felt sick) and then I went through the usual, rapid motions of any other illness I’ve had before; sore throat, cough, chills, stuffy nose.  I felt relatively well a week past the first sign of symptoms and, as far as I know, didn’t spread my nasty germs to anyone in close contact.
In fact, I confess that the absolute worst part of catching the virus was…other peoples’ reactions to my news. 

Yeaaahhh.

I felt shame for getting sick, so much so, that I regretted taking the test… and informing people of the results.  Even months later upon mentioning the illness, there’s this kind of dumbfounded response as if I’d deceived people with a dark secret or they’re amazed that I look healthy and… normal. 
Ahhh, to be normal.  What is that like I wonder?

Probably boring af.

So, while I was sick, I just wanted to feel better. I wanted to feel comforted and loved and that everything was fine. Because everything was fine. Except, other people acted like it wasn’t and I didn’t know how to receive the sympathies for what should have been the most horrible thing to have ever befallen me. There were moments in which I considered fabricating beautiful lies for every next person who asked me what was new while I was in the midst of my quarantine because I didn’t want to hear another overly dramatic comment about getting sick.

Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like an asshole. I know that the words came from kind hearts and I’m lucky to have people who care enough to be so concerned. We’re all just wingin’ this shit as best we can.
Besides, like I said, everything seemed to work out in good favor overall.  I should be happy, no?  Ummm… sure.

I survived well enough. 
I am surviving.

The most ironic thing that has enveloped my thoughts lately is what a therapist used to tell me when I started tumbling down my pit of despair: don’t stay home and ruminate, go out and do something, be around people.
It is excellent advice, but… I wonder what he’s telling people now. 

This new world isn’t kind to people living alone with anxiety or depression. And it most certainly isn’t kind to people who appreciate a nice hug every now and again. I hadn’t considered that physical touch would be such a rarity after I moved. It’s a natural act of affection as mindless and basic as breathing. Yet the reality is there are no handshakes, highfives or hugs for those who don’t have someone unafraid to give them. It was made most apparent as friends and acquaintances alike have leapt backwards away from my extended arms.
That sounds exaggerated, but it isn’t.
There’s also this perpetual cognizance to keep my hands to myself now that touching is taboo. I don’t try to touch people anymore and my heart writhes every time I catch myself wanting to.
At least my Houston people don’t disappoint to fill up that much needed hug quotient.

I often feel empathetic to other’s fears and pain.
But I don’t understand this fear. 
And I’m not even sure what it is people are afraid of… disease?  Death? The risk for both was always prevalent in our day to day lives, we just didn’t have anyone reporting the scoreboard to us 24/7 for several months like with the pandemic.

Imagine hearing on the news today that over 7,500 people have passed away in the states. How much terror would consume you from hearing that number and how they passed?
That was the actual average number of deaths per day in the United States in 2018. Per. Day.

It’s the skewed portrayal of the virus that has people turning on each other and fearing their lives, when the reality is that the overwhelming majority of the infected are recovering at home with mild symptoms. Yet news programs have chosen to fuel airwaves with the most tragic examples of the pandemic.
I think it’s good to be aware of hospital bed shortages and to be mindful of protecting each other by not coughing openly, but NOT to be instilled with fear of the worst cases and prejudice against those who get sick.

I am so fatigued by this inescapable reality. I feel it as much as the pain of the cruel practice called social distancing, as much as the remorse for families losing loved ones they couldn’t visit, as much as the admiration for the healthcare workers dedicating their efforts above and beyond. I feel all of it, except the fear.

In the meantime, I am trying not to allow the circumstances to hold me back too much. The biggest battle is keeping my focus on personal fulfillment and off of uncontrollable circumstances. Writing this piece (and rewriting it so much) was uncomfortable, and eventually, burdensome. I want to leave my burden here in these words that I hope to never write about again, and I want to say thank you all so much for reading and hanging in there with me.

Moving to Dallas

Posted on by heykat

The thing I had hoped to avoid prior to starting my new job was waiting for my move-in date.  It was a task I tried my best to attack with only 12 days to find an apartment and move into it.  I was optimistic the first week, but as I saw my window disappearing with no front runners, I dreaded what was bound to follow:  weekend commuting between Houston and Dallas to save money on hotel costs and cramming the move-in over one of those weekends. 

With 4 days left before my first day of work, my realtor asked me to revisit a property I had deemed unfit.  I told him that I liked what I saw in the pictures, but the listing he pulled didn’t mention onsite or in-unit laundry.  That was a dealbreaker.  He pulled the newest listings and found one ready for move-in with a washer and dryer.  I told him to give me a little time to look it over.

As a shopper in the world of real estate, hesitating is possibly the worst thing you can do. 
I am one who treats many decisions like a game of chess; calculating strategy with best moves and outcomes.  It’s a good method, but unfortunately, I’m a slow player.  I had already lost a unit elsewhere for taking time to think it over.  And yet again, it was my hesitation that made me lose this new unit just hours later. 

Although I was frustrated and slightly panicked, there was something I promised myself through this new experience of shopping for apartments solely online.  I promised that I wouldn’t rush into something that didn’t feel right.  So, if I needed time to calculate the strategy and someone else swooped in and snagged my target, then it wasn’t meant to be.

I spent hours doing my own searches separately from the realtor. I found 2 properties that I adored and excitedly called about. Phone calls and emails proved ineffective in catching the attention of the management company that happened to manage both of those properties. I’ve lived in enough complexes to know how a good management company behaves and how a bad one does.
I continued to rely on the realtor’s assistance.

We returned to the earlier property where I found a layout that I liked more than the first one he pulled.  It was more money than I wanted to spend per month, so I needed to be damn sure this was the apartment for me.  I had the realtor find out where exactly the unit was located, what the windows were facing, how wide was the entry hall, what was this and what was that and a list of other potentially strange questions.  I don’t know what sort of things other people are picky about, but if I’m upping my budget, then I need to know if my apartment is looking straight into someone else’s bedroom or an open view of the sky and some trees.

Everything added up nicely, except for the cost.  But after 8 days of living and breathing apartments.com, HAR, and Zillow, I wasn’t satisfied with anything in my price range and wondered how long it would be before something satisfactory did surface.  Shit or get off the pot, Kat.

Well, I took a big ass shit of faith and turned in an application. And a big ass chunk of money for an admin fee.  A small weight lifted from my shoulders when I was approved a few days later…  The problem?  It wouldn’t be ready for 3 weeks.
I would have to do the thing I dreaded and stay in a hotel during the first few work weeks and commute on weekends, buuuut I had already accepted that as a possibility and told myself it’s fine.

Because I was not receiving relocation assistance from my new employer, I decided to try out a very inexpensive, shared Airbnb.

I was there for 1 miserable night before I asked a friend if he had any hotel freebies that could be thrown my way.  It wasn’t the other bnb patrons that (completely) scared me off. No, actually, I took issue with the engine turbine for an AC unit that rendered me sleep deprived for my first day of work. Yeaaaaahhh, nooooooo.
That coupled with a lack of face-masked guests in the house didn’t entice me much to return.

Luckily, my friend came through and was able to put me up in a nice hotel through the remainder of the week.  He insisted I upgrade my budget to a hotel sized one for the following week so as not to find myself in a similar predicament.

I heeded his suggestion and found a budget hotel that looked ok.  While the location seemed to attract… an image problem on the outside, I spent a quiet week there without any issues.  I considered staying at the same place for the following week since it seemed like such a great value.  I decided to reread the reviews to compare my time spent there thus far.  The best one I found, in so few brilliantly written words, explained exactly how I felt (paraphrasing); “The room was clean and I had no problems.  To the negative reviewers complaining about other guests: expect Walmart shoppers when paying Walmart prices.”  

Days after I began drawing up this blog post, however, I found myself at the hotel that next week feeling a bit under the weather…  I’m sure you can sense the drama to ensue after a statement like that.

I phoned my employer to inform them I was feeling a bit under and I already knew they didn’t want anyone with the slightest inkling of bad health to be near the office.  They were so nice about the circumstance and even insisted I go back to Houston after taking a COVID test so I could be with my family until my move-in day a week away.

Family gave the ok to come back no matter what ailed me. Awww, they love me.
I felt inexplicably fatigued, but managed the long drive without passing out.

“I hope it isn’t COVID,” was the resounding response from everyone I told I was back in Houston after falling ill.  What an ominous thing to say.  I didn’t feel good, but I certainly didn’t feel like it was the worst I’d ever been sick.  Something I had caught in January actually felt like death knocking at my door, so imagine my surprise when I saw the big, fat, red ‘POSITIVE‘ as my test result a few days later.

PLOT TWIST!

Remember in my last post when I said, “Watch out, Dallas, I’m coming for ya?” 
Bitch said, “Oh hey, here’s your welcome present.” 
 
What a nailbiter!  I decided to pause here as I’ve unsuccessfully tried to finish this post for over a week while the ramifications of my test results are still taking place.

Does Kat move to Dallas?  Is she hospitalized?  Does she adopt a puppy?  Will she win the presidential election? 
Questions to be answered in the next chapter. 

Flying the Coop Part II

Posted on by heykat

It’s been almost a year since I launched this site and the very first post, Flying the Coop. Cheers to the recent payment I made to keep it running for a second year!

Some of you know that I’ve been job hunting for that dream career move since my return from Spain.  I don’t think I found it, but what I did find is a job that will give me money. 

And sometimes, when a pandemic has befallen the world, that’s good enough. 

Can’t be too choosey when you’re unemployed. 
Besides, I really fucking hated not working all the while knowing how capable I am to do all of the things I applied for over the past 6 months. 

Perhaps I have too much self-worth tied into “having a job,” but who honestly believes they’re living their best life when they can’t afford to support themselves?

And, of course, now that I have been training for all of 10 days, I’ve hit that vicious cycle of – not regret – but questioning the decision to accept the job. Partly because of the aforementioned dream pause and partly because, you know, life is hilarious, ironic and a bitch all at once.

Yesterday marked my third interview in 4 weeks. After months of nothing. And 2 of those jobs are more of what I’d like to transition towards.

The thing is, an interview is not a guarantee. So I feel like I made the right call in my decision to accept what was offered first.

It was a rather dramatic decision-making process, actually. Like, I literally cried when I saw the offer.
I agree that’s a bit of an insane reaction, but let me explain all the feels in that moment.

I thought this job might make me feel just like how I did last year before I quit oil & gas. I was worried about making a bad choice for giving in to something I wasn’t excited about. I was facing the actual reality of leaving Houston.
All of this was frightening!

Though once the anxiety abated, I was able to rationalize what I truly wanted more than anything: to move forward.  Which wasn’t possible without some sense of job security.
So I took the job knowing that it isn’t the destination, but another stone on the path.

The proverb, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day,’ still makes so much sense in modern times.

And with that, I’d like to say forgive me for being so absent these past 2 months.  Before the job came along, I was painting A LOT and didn’t have the itch to write. 
What can I say?  I go where the creativity flows and it was flowing in watercolors.

https://youtu.be/XCxQ-HaCvHE

(I tried to insert more pictures of my art here, however, the hotel’s internet service isn’t up to the task. Stayed tuned for more on hotel living in the next post.)

In 9-12 days, depending on move difficulties, I will be making the transition to my new home some 280 miles north of Houston.
 
It’s a place where a Supernatural hero was born, a place where the annual state fair draws in over 2 million people, and a place where there are just as many terrible drivers as every other large city in the United States.

Watch out, Dallas, I’m coming for ya.

My, What A May

Posted on by heykat

Dear Diary,

I started writing this post almost 2 weeks ago, but didn’t like the introduction or the angle of leading into what I wanted to write about.  I want good content in my blog, of course.  But since I started this post on and off again with morale swings like an unbridled bouncy ball, I’ve decided that the current circumstances warrant me an entitled I-do-what-I-want attitude.  I need to stop feeling like whatever I want to write about isn’t good enough to be shared.   
So, I’m going to recap my time and thoughts spent in May and maybe you’ll glean something useful or entertaining from it all.  I’m pretty sure you will, because I’m including an additional recap of La Tomatina – in AVI format – which is pretty awesome.

All things considered, May was an eventful and busy month.
 
In the first week, I celebrated my cousin’s birthday with some family and friends and fired firearms for the first time.  The picture below completely embodies the uncertainty I felt about it.

Questioning life choices.


I have wanted to learn how to handle a gun for a long time now.  It’s mostly because I’m Texan, and a little bit because it behooves me to understand a thing I’m afraid of and how to use it properly.  For the record, I’m still afraid of guns, but I feel more(?) comfortable(?) being near them.

The following week I met a friend at a brewery that opened for the first time since everything closed down in March.  Don’t laugh at me, but this was an exciting moment where I felt a kind of sensory overload rediscovering the sounds, sights and smells of being in a public place with brews and a buddy.

Cheers to beers.

The next day I went to Galveston with a friend and spent an entire afternoon on the beach getting sunburned alongside other cooped up individuals trying to make the most of the continuation of a shitty situation.  The thing that surprised me most about this mini adventure is how comfortable I felt being so close to other people and their families.  Normally, I prefer my distance from others for a getaway – growing up a city girl means quiet is hard to come by and the ultimate escape from a city is to be in solitude.  This time, however, I quite enjoyed watching and listening to people run around me, unburdened by our reality.


It was shortly after the beach trip when I purchased a book about art therapy and, literally, that night had one of the best dreams I can remember in my entire life.

I was enrolled in college in a very high demand art class and Annalise Keating was the professor.  Yikes, right?  But actually, it was a pleasant environment and no one died.  Elle Fanning was there, too, but as a student.
There are always a lot of things happening in my dreams, but I couldn’t remember what else that was – only the arts. 
Sitting in a classroom, I watched my classmates work on things like landscape watercolors, layered picture installations that appeared 3D, and wood carvings.  Elle was painting a kind of family portrait with a bright red checkered backdrop and lots of faded mint green in the foreground, hinted in skin and clothes.  Later, there was a gallery opening featuring all of the work.  One piece that remains vivid in my memory was a shadow box, about 16 by 16 inches, with an unpainted, intricately wood-carved sailboat sitting in front of a seascape painted canvas with a wood-carved braided ship rope strung across the front glass almost from corner to corner. 
It was soooo gooood.  All of the pieces were.   
I don’t remember making one with my own hands, but every piece created was something I envisioned. 
Pretty wild concept to think about.

I gently awoke the following morning to sunlight gilding the edges of my curtains, relishing still in the beauty of inspiration and creations I dreamed up.  It was a beautiful feeling to wake up that morning.

Despite all the things I haven’t gotten around to creating yet, I do feel accomplished having made the video about my La Tomatina experience.  It was something I thought about doing after I posted my first story-painting on YouTube.  The motivation sprung upon me as dad’s garden tomatoes grew more robust and ruddier.  I took pictures of his plants and painted an impressive replica, if I say so myself.  I mixed video footage of the painting and the festival, kindly provided by my tomato blood sister, and narrated the story of my experience.

The finale of the month closed with a second birthday celebration; my sisters turned 27.  I wanted to do whatever the girls wanted, so a group of us spent the weekend away at Medina Lake. 
The trip definitely had its ups and downs. 
My personal downs were being concerned with the cost of everything and, in general, dealing with feels that seem unrelatable to everyone I know.  The group down was not getting to access the lake – which I think was the underlying factor in choosing that location. 
Those aside, I can’t deny enjoying the natural beauty surrounding us, the delicious food and drink we shared, tossing a football while hosing each other (since we were adorned in swimsuits with no water to wade in) and creating these memories in the flesh. 

Sunset view of Medina Lake.

And now that I’ve reached the end of this post, I’m torn about spending the rest of the day falling deeper down the rabbit hole of The Vampire Diaries I began some days ago or working on a watercolor project for Grandma.  Hmm…seriously, tough call.

Moving Past the Perception of Loss: A Cleansing in Quarantine

Posted on by heykat

Hello, lovelies!  (Channeling all of the British pleasantries from shows I’ve been watching on Netflix and YouTube.)  In my last entry, I recognized my struggle with control, uncertainty, and fear, and was trying to relinquish it all, because none of those things are positively impactful.  I believe that the perspective one puts on something is how enjoyable or unfavorable a situation can really be.  But sometimes, it is hard to dig up the right kind of perspective. 

And that’s kind of where I was 5 weeks later. 

With every passing day of, seemingly, an unchanged scenario, I felt less optimistic and more defeated.  Especially, after throwing in some hours spent on job submissions that have not yielded favorable results.  I mean, duh… maybe lower your expectations on that one, Kat. 

For being such a logical person, I don’t know how I allow my emotions to get the better of me.

I have spent the past week+ with a weight on my shoulders.  It’s the same one I had when the quarantine first started: suspended where I don’t feel I’m supposed to be.  
I know I can’t control the situation, but I feel this discordance nonetheless.  To try to remedy the new onslaught of discomfort, I searched for things to make myself feel better. 

One day, I drove 20 minutes to a café where I used to hang, got my favorite drink to-go and then spent a few hours at a friend’s house.  Another day, I went for a walk at The Menil with the same friend, then picked up a boba tea to-go from a favorite teahouse.  Another day, I dragged him to Trader Joe’s where we spent most of our grocery experience waiting in lines for 40 minutes so I could buy cheap wine and beer (worth it).  The idea behind all of this was to give myself a taste of my former routine – a little dose of socializing in the flesh and things I hadn’t done since the quarantine began (except for buying beer and wine – definitely had done that a few times).  When those didn’t leave lasting impressions, I pulled out an old project I was excited to finish thinking I just needed to focus on creating.  The truth is, I quickly became disengaged in my project.  I worked on it to the finish line, but I didn’t feel good as I worked or very accomplished when it was done.

And that is just about the worst: feeling crappy while creating. 

I’ve been questioning the same things every time I feel shitty, since the reality of the quarantine sunk in, trying to uncover a missing piece.  So, that started up again after the project. 
Why is this happening?  Why am I stuck in Houston in my childhood home? Why am I in this uncomfortable situation?  Why haven’t I found the job I want?  What happened to all of the good vibes and intuition I felt in January?  What am I supposed to do with this?  What am I gaining from this situation? 
Stop.
The latter, my lovelies, that’s the winning question.

My brain, in its mixed battle of anxiety and resolution-seeking, moves faster than I can blink, and it realized it was onto something.  Instantaneously, the revelations piled up. 

I suddenly realized I’ve been viewing this inconvenience in my life as a loss. 

A loss of things like, money, time and opportunity.  And in turn, these losses have made me feel like I’m failing.  This perception possibly stands for a lot of people out there, especially, financially.  I hope you know that you are not failing, no matter how much it feels like it.  Ask yourself to see the other side.

When I asked myself again, what am I gaining from this situation, I thought about my family.  I haven’t spent so much consecutive time with them since before I officially left home when I was 20.  We aren’t a picture-perfect bunch, and we’ve had our differences, but we take care of each other.

As I dug deeper, I wondered if I what I need in this moment is to be cared for after doing so much independently the past 2 years.  I wondered if I’ve gained all of this time with them because it’s the last chance I’ll have it.

With this in mind, it’s easier for me to let go of the perception of defeat and loss, the worry of not having what I desire right now, and to stop resisting the flow of what’s happening around me. 
I mean, I’m still worried and still feel a bit trapped.  I am Kat, afterall.  But I feel better. I feel better seeing the gains. And it only took me… 5 weeks… but that’s better than 6, no?

Trapped and I’m Not Afraid (Well, Maybe a Little)

Posted on by heykat

Of all the things I thought about putting in a blog, a virus wreaking havoc on the world was the furthest from my mind.

It’s been a rather surreal past 2 weeks as I watch the world around me close up shop to lessen the chances of spreading COVID-19. 
My European friends have informed me what it’s been like for them with a myriad of adjectives, some of which resonate with me, too. 

Let me back it up a super long time ago real quick so you have the perspective of, well, my perspective on all of this.
Basically, I used to be afraid of people and the world in general.  Not in a drastic, agoraphobic way, but definitely in a borderline anxiety attack keeps me from socializing and having a good time in public kind of way. 

Fast forward 20 years with a lot of life experiences that helped pull me out of that cocoon little by little to make me feel the way I do now: I can do anything (on my best days).
 
So, for the person I am today, being more or less forced to shack up at home (with my parents on the east side of the city – please help me), because businesses, social functions, my current employers, and places I enjoy to visit are shutting down, is stirring up a lot of frustration. 
I am not afraid of what’s happening. Like my European buddies, I am annoyed by the disruption. 
Seemingly unlike them, I am also angry. 

Anger is a really stupid fucking emotion to have.  Nonetheless, it’s been rising up in waves as more things I can’t control are changing and impeding my desires to go out, to move forward. 

So, the analytical side of me has started to dissect and reflect on what’s really going on, because, in case you didn’t know, psychologists say anger is a mask over a truer emotion.  Usually, it’s fear. 

But wait, didn’t I say I’m not afraid?  Yes, and that’s true.  I am not afraid of living with a “virus on the loose.” 
I am, however, fearful of something else… 

My anger is masking feelings of helplessness and uncertainty.  I feel like my life is suspended in this strange moment when I so badly want it to keep moving towards where I envision it. 

While this isn’t the first time ever I’ve felt helpless in the event of many a natural disaster before, I had things I don’t have right now; a stable career, my own home and a partner (and health insurance). 
Even though the whole fucking world is dealing with the same thing, I feel a bit like I’m in it alone without a safety net. 

With a better idea of my truer emotions, I have been seeking ways to channel and manage them. 
Writing about all of this has been pretty helpful today.
I also recently made a spoof rant video about the virus and hysteria behind it, which I am considering posting on YouTube as another form of expression.  (If you can’t fight it, make fun of it.)
With YouTube in mind, however, I’ve been struggling with video editing and making art while I don’t feel totally motivated. I am distracted with my suspension and the worldly chaos I’m allowing to invade my brain space.

This past Sunday, though, I found an uplifting message I want to share.
I was in Montrose visiting a friend who suggested walking to the bookstore after I said let’s go for a walk.  We hit the clearance section, slowly perusing around it before making our way through games and music.  After, I wanted to look at graphic novels for a new read since I’m nearing the end of The Walking Dead saga.

You know how sometimes you can feel an energy drawing you towards it? 
I could feel the section inviting me to look through it as I leisurely picked a handful of books, read the summaries and put them back. 
Some minutes later, a title caught my eye.  It made me feel better. 
I pulled it and read the summary. 

The book has absolutely nothing to do with the current state of affairs, but I think it’s the exact encouragement I needed to see, needed to be reminded of. In similar words, the thing I try to tell myself when I become distraught.
The summary also led me to think of a friend I’d made at the La Tomatina festival last year who is navigating a sort of mid-life crisis like myself.

I bought the book.

I want this message to stick in my mind and yours, if you’re feeling like I am. I want this to remind you of everything else in your life that you have survived.

I hope you all remain sane and healthy until doors start opening again.

Travel, Create, Plan, Perspective

Posted on by heykat

Hello there!  I can’t believe nearly a full month has passed since my last post – oh, wait.  Yes, I can… 

I spent part of the month tossing around an idea and the rest of the time implementing it.  I wasn’t too sure what to write about during the in-between.  I suppose I didn’t feel like anything significant enough was happening to compel me to write.  Until now!

Someone expanded to YouTube.  Indeed, and I think a lot of the foreseeable blog posts will be comprised of crafting videos and of my face.  Like, my actual face speaking to you.  So, that’s fun, right?!
Stay tuned and por favor disfruta:

New Year Outlook and Helpful Articles

Posted on by heykat

Still sorting through that last Madrid post…  Anyway!  When will there ever be a better time than now to write about a new year outlook? 
Next year is too far away, smarty pants.

I officially started both of my new jobs this past week.  I’m not allowed to say much about one, but what I can say is that it’s my first retail gig.  None of the office jobs I applied to over the last few weeks got back to me for an interview.  Honestly though, this job is exactly what I was hoping to get while I’m temporarily here in Houston.  Oh yeah… surprise!  I don’t plan on being in the city by year end.  Temporary work for a temporary home that pays just well enough to cover my current expenses is plenty fine for now. The other job, because I did say jobs, doesn’t pay anything, but I think it’s going to teach me the most and bring me the most joy. 
I am volunteering one day a week to lead an art class with toddlers.  I actually pictured wanting to try this exact kind of work when I had all that time abroad to think about myself and desires.  I mean, I pictured teaching older children and getting paid for it, but I will not dismiss the synchronicities that led me to find this opportunity that is essentially what I thought about as a potential career shift.  Besides, the more exposure I get to different jobs, the easier I will find what truly fits me. (Something I highly recommend doing in your 20’s, but later is, of course, better than never.)

The outlook of 2020 feels good, but I’m not positioned in a constant high of empowerment.  Since I let go of my apartment last summer, I am staying in my old, childhood home with my folks and baby sis, which is a bit weird.  If you’ve ever had to move back in with your folks, then you probably understand what I’m feeling.  Besides the strangeness of living with my family as a 34-year-old woman (just had a birthday…), it’s weird living away from the neighborhoods and things I was surrounded by for the last 8 years.  I can still get to those places and things, which is great, but it’s not even close to being the same. 

A friend of mine asked me if it felt like a step backwards being there, but I completely disagree with that.  Honestly, it feels like these life altering decisions I made have brought me back to a kind of ground zero where I probably need to learn some shit and/or release some shit and/or help someone else with some shit before moving to the next platform. 
Nothing speaks more to that thought than when I came back to the states last month. I spent my first night in Boston to break up the flight time and save a little money on airfare and awoke the next morning to a blanket of snow covering the metropolitan area. It was like, a beautiful, sparkling clean slate welcomed me back home (and I totally frolicked in it).

An old colleague of mine used to say, “this is just a stepping stone,” whenever I became distraught about something I couldn’t change at the office.  From where I’m standing, this is a stepping stone on a path leading me somewhere else. 

Every day is a chance for change and possibility, but sometimes we need a little encouragement.  To kick off the new year, I decided to share a list of articles I found inspirational and supportive since my unravelling in 2018.  I hope you, too, find a spark of light from the following:

Accepting Loneliness
Desire to be Elsewhere
When You Feel Disconnected

(my favorites below)

7 Truths of Personal Growth
7 Questions to Finding Purpose

Happy New Year, everyone!