A Night Out

This evening I went to a beautiful orchestra concert. I meant to go alone, but it turns out that isn't easy when you know several people who are much more into music than you. I did take some time before the concert started to write a short scene. (That story in a monastery is still forthcoming)


There's an interesting mix of people at an event on a campus. Young and old, dressed up and down, they're all here. The lobby is filled with chatter and anticipation. Laughter, intellectual discussions, joy, and even questions about grading abound. The lights are bright, allowing me to see everything.

People continue to mill about in pairs or groups. They greet acquaintances and close friends - it's hard to tell the difference in an open public place like this. Introductions are made, awkward small talk follows. Someone walks in, glancing around. She smiles and waves - she's found the person she's looking for. The quality of the murmuring changes. There's an uptick in volume and then things die down, the doors have opened at last. The crowd thins out, but not everyone leaves just yet. A few groups remain, some talking to performers who have joined them and others just lost in their own conversations. these have moved beyond small talk to something worth staying for.

Eventually it's time for even the stragglers to move toward the concert hall. The lights are dimmer, and the noise of the chatter has increased. If I close my eyes it washes over me in waves, an ocean made by people. The orchestra begins to move on to the stage and gather their instruments. At first very few people pay attention, but then the tuing begins and the noise of the audience dies down - only to be replaced with notes over a hundred years old, filling my ears once again.


-Kat

Morning Prayer

Last night I had a dream about writing a story set in a monastery, and it was really interesting, so I decided to write it. Just not today. Today, like all Wednesdays, was a busy day, so I got very little writing done. I do promise a story with a monastic setting in the future though!

What about today, you ask? Well my mind and body have been at church for a good bit of the day, so I decided to make a page of a prayer that's important to me. I enjoy written prayers, and this is one I found recently that I think is very good. It's by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

-Kat

For a Cold Day

I have a cold at the moment, so tonight I needed something hot and spicy to eat. I made chili for the first time in my life!

It turned out quite well and, at least for awhile, it cleared up my sinuses. All in all a good recipe, and in case you want to make it yourself, here it is!

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 teaspoons olive oil
• 1 pound ground turkey
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 cups water
• 1 (28 ounce) can canned crushed tomatoes
• 1 (16 ounce) can canned kidney beans - drained, rinsed, and mashed
• 1 tablespoon garlic, minced
• 2 tablespoons chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Directions

1. Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Place turkey in the pot, and cook until evenly brown. Stir in onion, and cook until tender.
2. Pour water into the pot. Mix in tomatoes, kidney beans, and garlic. Season chili powder, paprika, oregano, cayenne pepper, cumin, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer 30 minutes.

-Kat

What I Saw

Today I walked across large sections of campus three times, at three very different parts of my day. That and my very busy day inspired this series of haikus.


Many coffee cups,
Last minute paper printing,
A friend studying.

High-schoolers touring,
A store - empty and moving,
Impromptu football.

Welding arcs sparking,
Twilight falling on the pond,
A boy and his dog.


-Kat

Long Day

Today was a longer day than I was expecting, so all I have to give you today is a haiku about my morning walk to church.


The day starts out cold
Church is a mile away
The walk warms me up.


More tomorrow.
-Kat

First Present of the Season

Christmas is still a long way off, but I started preparations for it this evening. Christmas is my favorite holiday, and a couple of years ago I bought a kit for knitted Christmas decorations. I haven't finished it yet, but I decided to make a start on finishing it for this year. This evening I made a present that can be used as an ornament.

That's a ten pence coin (the same size as a quarter) in the picture to give perspective to the size of my little present.

-Kat

Early Days

Today I wrote another piece for my yoga paper. This one is about my beginnings in the practice of yoga.


When I began practicing yoga it was not quite the experience I find it now. The class was always large and I rolled out my mat in the very back of the studio. The light was dim and the music was soft in every class. As I started I learned that yoga was nothing like I had imagined - it was not easy and gentle, it was stessful and made me sore. But somehow I found myself coming back to every single class. At least once every class the teacher reminded us that yoga is a non-competitive practice.

"Easy for her to say," I thoguht in the middle of Extended Triangle pose. My hand was nearly at my knee as I tried to stretch it lower down my shin, with my other arm reaching up in the opposite direction and my feet spread to each side of my mat. The twist was a difficult one for me as I ried to place my back in the same vertical plane as my legs. My body was a series of triangles, but I thought I looked more like a star broken at the waist and falling over. One of the worst parts of this pose was how easy it made it for me to look around at the others.

It is often easy to see others in yoga as perfect. Not all of them, of course, but just one or two are enough to threaten attempts at non-compettion. Lithe bodies gracefully and easily moved into this same pose, and they could move so much deeper than I could. It was easy for the throught "They are so much better" to become lodged in my mind. Giving myself a mental shake I would let the thought pass and focus on my hand pushing into the air.

This scene would repeat throughout my early practices over and over again, almost with every pose. Yoga is an outwardly silent practice, but that just left the mind to take every thought it created and run with it. Mindfulness and meditation are goals, but not goals that are easily strived for. Yoga is a practice of constant learning and constant trying.

The teacher instructed us to move into the next pose, offering several modifications for beginners and advanced yogis - yoga is a sport entirely based on modification. As I reminded myself to not compare with others and focused on my breath, I chose one of the modifications, moving into the best pose for my own body.


-Kat

Eternity

I love poetry, although I really can't write it. Today I made a page with a poem that I really enjoy by William Blake entitled "Eternity."

-Kat

The Warehouse Garden

I wrote something today. That's really all I can say about it, because I'm not sure how I feel about it, but here it is.

The garden was overgrown now, but at one time it had flourished. As Anne picked her way through the weeds, she remembered the past sunny days of garden picnics and laughter. When everyone had gathered here the world was perfect, but time had taken them away. Some went to jobs far away, others moved with extended family, and some - like herself - had begun creating families of their own. Young children took time away from everything.

But she was here today, by herself. The sky was overcast, but the clouds were a light gray, unlikely to bring rain for a while yet. Cars and trucks rumbled by behind her, adding to the background noise. Everything around the overgrown garden was a wash of gray and tan. The warehouse district might seem like an odd place for a garden, but when Anne and her siblings inherited the empty lot they decided to keep and share it. From then on they had had seven years of memories to create, entirely doing over the lot to turn it into the paradise it was. 

Anne walked over to a rose bush that had survived and even flourished. This was Anne's favorite plant from the past, and it was where she would begin. She put on her gloves and began pulling the choking weeds from around the base of the rose bush. She also pulled dead foliage off the stems, and in little time she had made it look like it was cared for again.

The sounds of people picking their own way up to the center of the garden made her turn around. She saw her husband and four-year-old son walking toward her. Behind them were her brothers and sisters and their families. This was a weekend of new beginnings for them. They had decided to start up their garden gatherings again and begin making new memories in that place. This long weekend they would start. They had a lot of weeding to do. 

There it is.

-Kat

Mmm... Ravioli

Tonight I cooked a tasty ravioli dish for dinner. It's definitely one I'll make again.

-Kat

In the Studio

It's a Monday, and that always makes me quite aware of the school things I need to do. So today's post serves two purposes - it is something I have created, and it is most likely the beginning to my 20 page yoga paper due in less than a month. I hope you enjoy it.


Yoga can be and is practiced in every setting imaginable, but there is something special about a dedicated studio. The light is soft and inviting, setting a meditative tone. The air is usually warm, sometimes even heated to add intensity to a practice. Space is well used in a studio, with a large open area surrounded by the tools of yoga. On one side is shelving holding colorful mats, rolled up and waiting to be used. At another side is a cabinet holding bolsters and cushions of various sizes to add softness to a restorative practice. Beside that cabinet are straps and soft blocks used to modify and personalize practice. The front wall is entirely mirrored, both helpful and distracting in practice.

Before a class begins, a teacher puts on music. The type varies from nature sounds to soft sitar to Bob Marley. Each choice is a reflection of the teacher and the style that class is going to follow. The music sets the tone before the class begins, and will be a constant reminder for tone and focus throughout the practice. Light fragrances filter through the air. Spicy jasmine and earthy sandalwood mingle and give the studio a truly "yogic" feeling. The scents are both invigorating and relaxing, the perfect mix.

People begin to arrive. They roll out their colorful mats and sit down, chatting. Some stretch their wrists or hips, or other places that are particularly sore or tight, in preparation. The studio room warms with the added body heat, and the yogis know it will only get warmer - that will help their practice. The teacher walks to her mat and everyone follows her lead, standing with hands together at heart center with eyes closed, just breathing. The practice has begun.


-Kat

It's a Girl

Today I wrote one more addition to this group of stories I've written over the past couple of days, now it's a trilogy, and I think it's done. This one's a bit un-edited (I wrote it 20 minutes ago), but I think it's decent anyway.


She was sitting in the waiting room, and she really needed to pee. This was the part she hated the most about sonograms, the medical need for a full bladder. Hopefully it would be her turn soon and she could get this over with. She had a book open in her hands, but she was having trouble concentrating on the words. Her mind seemed to become less focused each day. She was thinking about things she needed to do and all that had happened in the last few days.

Her house was moving ever so slightly toward chaos at the moment. People were giving her things, but she wasn't able to turn the amalgamation of stuff into a nursery. Now those things just sat in boxes in a cold room, waiting. This time around was the hardest yet, and she couldn't seem to snap herself out of it. Just yesterday she had been surprised when a co-worker in an elevator had asked her when she was due.

"How did he know I'm pregnant?" she had thought, before getting a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Of course at six months, she was obviously showing. After six months of pre-natal vitamins, doctors visits, and baby gifts  why did she still occasionally forget that she was even pregnant?

A nurse called her name and she walked to the examination room relieved that this visit could get underway so she could get on with her day. After the sonogram technician took enough pictures of her belly she got dressed, peed, and settled in to wait in the doctors office. She passed her time looking at the degrees on the wall and the nick-knacks on the desk.

Finally the doctor came in, and she seemed happy. After sitting down behind her desk and setting down a manila envelop, she announced with delight "I have good news, it's a girl!" then the doctor noticed her stony face. Getting up and walking around the desk to stand in front of her, she said firmly, "If this girl was born today, she would live. Girls are strong and this one is going to be a beautiful healthy baby."

She looked up at the doctor and read the sincerity in her eyes, and a grin broke across her face, the first true one in months. Her hands rested on her protruding belly, and for the first time she felt the spark of life she held within her. "It's a girl," she whispered, hopeful again for the days to come.


That ends this weekend's trilogy - I doubt it'll happen again. But, this story is important to me, and I'm glad I got the chance to write it and share it with you.

-Kat

New and Old

Today marks the first day I can share a knitted piece on this blog! I've been working on fixing up my apartment all afternoon, and I decided to take a break and knit. Then I realized that I only had a few rows left on a new washcloth of mine, so I finished it.

Also, I thought I'd share the sequel to the bit I wrote yesterday, in case any of y'all are interested:

Her favorite part of their home was the attic. It was small, softly lit, and covered in warm colorful fabrics. This was where she would disappear to. She could spend hours in the attic and it would feel like no time at all. She loved the tactile nature of the attic. There were fabrics of all kinds; shiny silks, warm wools, soft cottons, and many more. It was a riot of colors, organized by the hues of a rainbow. His place was the kitchen. It was bright and sparse, with metal shining everywhere. Everything was neat and organized, just the way he liked it. There was a large window over the sink letting in all of the sunlight – he rarely turned a light on during the day. He loved to cook, she loved to sew. They loved to be with each other too, but sharing a life was not always easy.

One tragic afternoon they couldn’t bear to even look at each other for the moment. They had received horrible news after rushing to the hospital when she felt stabbing pains in her abdomen. When they came home she ran up to her attic and he drew himself deep into his kitchen. Pots clanged the knives made chopping, slicing, stabbing sounds. The pans sizzled as red, raw meat began to cook. It was quieter in the attic. The only sound was a whirr as she sewed the sleeves onto a new robin’s egg blue shirt for him. They continued in this way for hours; neither speaking, barely even thinking. More and more savory smells began to drift out of the bright, busy kitchen and started dispersing through the house. They danced through the dining room, strolled through the living room, meandered up the staircase and finally peeked into the attic. There, she was sewing buttons onto an ebony vest to go with the blue shirt for him.

            After sensing cotton and wool for so long, the spices and citrus that came upon her from the kitchen were a shock. She smiled, a small watery smile, and breathed deeply. It wasn’t time to go yet, but it would be soon. She continued working on the vest and put the finishing touches on a plush, black, knitted scarf that she had been working on before; before this tragic day so it still held traces of the joy and hope that they had felt before. When she had finished making these things as beautiful as she could, and the smells from the kitchen were stronger than ever, she stood up and left the attic. She followed the smells down the stairs, thorough the large, soft living room, around the mahogany table, and into the metallic kitchen. She looked at him as he put the finishing touches on two plates. They had strength enough for each other. She gave him the shirt, vest, and scarf and he set the plates on the large dining room table in their still too empty house. 

-Kat

Dreams

I started writing today, and one thing turned into another, and I think I ended up writing a prequel to a different piece I wrote about a year and a half ago.


She walked in, closing the wind and the rain and the efforts of the day behind her. Sighing and kicking off her shoes, she stopped for a moment to look around her home, the home she had fantasized about since she was young. The home that was finished just a week ago.

It was a small house, but bigger than before. The front door opened directly into the living room. The room was open and airy, with a large bay window looking out onto the world. The window seat was awash in colorful cushions, prepared to be arranged in any way needed. Just next to the window was her first set of bookshelves, full to bursting. There was also a large couch, chairs, and floor cushions, so that many people could fill this room with laughter and stories.

She moved to settle into that window seat, remembering her summer days spend lost in books, in worlds far away. She looked over to the door to the right of the piano, which led upstairs to the finished attic. She imagined the softness that would soon fill it. Her sewing room already had a table, sewing machine, and storage cabinets, and soon those would hold bolts of fabric and skeins of yarn waiting to be turned into priceless articles for herself and her family, each one special enough for a name of its own.

As her cat jumped up beside her she remembered that she was not alone in this new house. She relaxed one more moment against the cushions, then rose and moved out to the hallway. She passed the large formal dining room and smiled as she breathed in - he was cooking with a lot of garlic. The kitchen was bright and rich with the scents of dinner. She put on an apron and began chopping vegetables for a salad. They spent the next half hour discussing their day and finishing dinner. The chopping and sizzling sounds added their own background music to their evening. He sent her to their small kitchen table and brought over their plates. He went to get a couple of wine glasses when she stopped him.

"I won't be having any tonight, or for awhile," she said. He stopped to take in that news, a grin splitting his face. And their night went long as they talked about their new future plans, and all the changes that were coming their way.


I think the other piece (which I wrote earlier, but comes later) might be better, but I had fun with this one.

-Kat

Knitting

One of my favorite creative things to do is knit. Unfortunately I don't share it here as often because knitting takes a lot of time. I'm in the middle of a sweater right now, and can't wait until I can post it here, but until then I decided it might be fun to make a record of some of the projects I've made and loved in the past. So, here is a scrapbook page of some of my knitting.

I thought of this today especially because it was surprisingly cold today, so I was thrilled to be able to pull Pete (the orange sweater at the top) out and wear it.

-Kat

The Counselor's Waiting Room

So, every week I sit in one of the most uncomfortable waiting rooms in existence. It's the waiting room at the student counseling center. Think about it - with the stigma we have in our society about getting help for your mental health, it's not a place you where you want to run into someone else. The scene seemed like a good one to write, so here I go.


The room is small, with room for only seven chairs. The lamps cast a softer tone on the room than the florescents would. The magazines on the table are so old, they're not worth reading. The first thing that distinguishes this waiting room from the multitude of others is the white noise machine next to the ancient periodicals. It's supposed to give the room a calming feel, but it seem to utterly suppress conversation as well.

It's all well and good when there's only one person here but when a second enters, awkwardness enters with them. Both people know why the other is here, but it seems taboo to bring it up, even in the office. Each person is afraid the other is trying to figure out what's wrong with them, as if you could tell that by a face.

As a third person enters, the awkwardness only becomes more palpable. No one is willing to make eye contact, so their eyes move anywhere and everywhere else. The air in the room suddenly makes the simple still-lifes on the wall more fascinating than anything Picasso ever held in his imagination. One person becomes a connoisseur of shoes, suddenly riveted by the curve of a sandal or the sole of a tennis shoe. The third picks up a pamphlet about something they don't need in an effort to look busy. Silence reigns, made so much more palpable by that dratted white noise machine.

These painful moments can only be broken by each person being called out by a professional, when they will take all those suppressed thoughts and pick through them until they can make sense of their lives.


-Kat

Lots of Green

Today I tried out a new recipe. I made beef teriyaki, although the recipe called for soy sauce. I thought that was weird, and I like teriyaki more, so I substituted teriyaki sauce instead. I think it turned out quite well.

Mmm... Broccoli

-Kat

Senses

Today I was hanging out at my favorite spot in the library and I really didn't feel like doing any work. So, after spending about 10 minutes in quiet contemplation of the day I decided to try my hand at poetry. Unfortunately I'm really terrible at most forms of poetry, so I went with Haiku which is the only one I've ever been able to pull off in any way.

Meditating on
the verdant library lawn.
I wish I could paint.

Hints of cinnamon,
coffee flowing down my throat.
It tastes like Christmas.

Faint as a whisper,
sounds come from across the lawn -
the band practicing.

Soon as I walk in
it hits me like an old friend.
The musty book smell.

Stretching arms and legs,
feeling the leather chair sink,
I sink farther in.

-Kat

Early Morning Stillness

Today my church choir started singing in church again. Due to the fact that I walk to church and I hate to be late, I am always there rather early. This morning as I sat in a nearly empty church I picked up my notebook and a pen and I came up with this.


Gerry is practicing for the service. He barely looks at his hands and never at his feet - the music he plays is magical. The organ and the cross compete to be the tallest items in the sanctuary, anchoring it at each end. The sunlight falling on the cross matches the music of the organ. With no one here to disturb the air, it's an ethereal place.

People will be here eventually, filling up the columns of pews. Their voices a multitude of whispers, discussing everything from this week's football game to where they're eating after church. People always throw the symmetry off - one side holding more than the other - but everyone has "their" pew and change does not come easily. Beautiful windows of stained glass flank the pews, telling stories and providing distraction for restless children. The colors mingle, moving from warm to cool, telling wonderful stories for generations.

The altar is simply clad - only two candles, a chalice, and the missal - with touches of green to denote the season. The communion robe waits patiently on the rail for the part it will play toward the end of the service. There are a couple of papers on the pulpit to prompt the priest through her sermon. There are sunflowers behind the altar today in honor of someone - it'll say who in the bulletin.

The musical stillness is broken as the choir begins to fill in the balcony. People settle in, greeting one another and stacking hymnals. Many clicks sound as they open their binders and prepare the music of the day. The early morning quiet is gone, and now the best part of the day begins.


-Kat

Downward Facing Dog

I am in the middle of working on a project for a course I took this summer. I am writing a creative non-fiction piece about a sport in connection to British culture. I know next to nothing about sports, so I'm writing about yoga and British colonialism. Today I wrote a piece that might become a part of my final paper.



Holding downward facing dog, I have to remember to not look behind or around me to check my form against the others in the class. Waleah reminds me, speaking to all of us, "your drishti is your navel." Drishtis, or gazing points, are what yogis use to focus on their own body and practice. They are one more thing to remind me that yoga is a non-competitive sport. I focus once again.

Arms straight, fingers spread wide on my mat, I push the front of the mat away toward the mirror. I keep my back straight, and lift my "sit-bones" toward the ceiling. The backs of my legs strain a bit as I try to push my heels to the ground, even as they stay resolutely two inches above my mat. I can feel every part of my body moving, holding position, and I relax my neck and let my gaze fall on my bellybutton. A year ago I wouldn't have thought it possible to look at my bellybutton in down-dog, and I just settled for the tops of my legs. Over time, however, my body loosened, especially my neck, and I found my gaze where it was supposed to be.

A year ago I also hated downward facing dog. It was difficult, and I often couldn't hold it for more than a few breaths. Down dog is a resting pose, but not one I found particularly restful. That is where the transformative nature of yoga can be seen in the most difficult poses. Each class I attended my arms got a little stronger and my body more used to the idea of being still in an inverted V. Eventually I did find down dog to be a resting pose - one in which I could restore my proper breathing and take stock of my body.

Now as I rest in downward facing dog I take in the benefits of my practice and I continue to try to touch my heels to the ground. It will happen someday.



So, that's what a minute of yoga is like for me.

-Kat

Dreaming

The past couple of days I've been thinking a lot. Too much really, and to avoid rumination I often turn to meditation or books. Books are wonderful, because they provide a means of losing yourself in another world, and the plot actually hangs together, which is often hard to discern in  real life.

To remind myself of that I made this:

It should go great right next to my bookcase.

-Kat

My Apartment Smells of Fish

Today my creation was in the kitchen (my really tiny kitchen). I'm trying out new recipes, now that I have a kitchen, and on the menu tonight was Lemon Garlic Tilapia. It turned out quite well if I do say so myself - and I have leftovers!

- Kat

Miracle

It turns out that Wednesdays are busy days for me. I shouldn't be surprised, Wednesdays have been busy since I was 16. All throughout the day I've been trying to come up with some inspiration for something to create, and this evening I finally figured out one good place for me. I love pinterest.com, and went there seeking inspiration - I found pictures of babies. Also, I'm in a developmental psychology class this year, and it begins at pregnancy and birth, so I've just recently watched a video of a live birth in full detail. Without further ado, here is a piece of flash fiction I wrote today.
-Kat


I just had a baby come out from between my legs.

That sight is not something you can prepare for, no matter how may books you read or old mother's tales you listen to. There was a baby inside me, I watched him come out into the world, and now I'm holding him.  It's only been ten minutes, and I'm sinking further into shock. I'm holding my baby and cooing at him, but my mind is far away, and running as fast as it can.

For months I've been reading books, thinking about names, decorating, a nursery, and practicing my breathing, but I don't think I ever really expected the doctor to hand me this small, purple, helpless thing and say he was mine. Don't they know I have no idea what I'm doing? I'm going to have to re-read all of those books of mine that tell me what to do when I take him home, because that information has vacated my brain. Now I literally have someone's life in my hands and I'm responsible for him getting through the next many years of his life.

Here's hoping I don't screw him up.

In Which I Scrapbook

Yesterday I thought a lot and decided to write a blog about it. I had every intention of doing what I said I would do, but my brother Kevin came up with an even better idea. Read his post and you can see the challenge I unwittingly got myself into. http://fakingmyway.wordpress.com/2011/09/06/challenge-accepted/

I really appreciate Kevin's support and accountability, and now if all goes well there'll be twice as much creative stuff as there would have been if I'd tried this on my own, and you can follow both of our blogs and see all of that creative output. Also, there'll be a free dinner for one of us sometime in the future.

This creativity duel might change my focus a bit. Knitting and cross-stitching take a long time. I'll continue to do things, but Kevin established that only completed things (I made this sleeve! etc.) count. Due to this I'm going to have to venture out a bit and I will probably end up writing more. Since I've wanted to try my hand at writing for the better part of a year and simply haven't found the time on my own, I expect good things from this. (Good things by way of me practicing, more so than necessarily good writing - I'm still really new at it).

My only question for you, Kevin, is does cooking a meal count? Not making a PB&J, but actually cooking? I don't get to do it as much as I want to, but I've been counting good cooking as creativity in my head.

Finally, if you read his blog you will have noticed that Kevin wasted no time in beginning, and has put some new Haiku on his blog. So, what have I created today? I don't think I mentioned on the last blog that I recently took up digital scrapbooking (thanks Mom!). Today I made this:

I intend on printing it out and hanging it in my apartment post haste. Now we just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings from the both of us.

-Kat

In Which I Start Something

Today I drove from my home in Texas to my second home in Stillwater. A four hour drive on your own allows a lot of time for introspection. While I was driving I listened to a few podcasts. I started out with Bad Philosophy (check it out - it's going to be a thing), and then I moved on to catching up with a knitting podcast I follow. Sometimes I'm amazed at how much inspiration I can get from hearing someone else talk about knitting. I started thinking about how I don't have a class I can knit in this year - which was the most knitting I ever did in the last few semesters - and how I would have more difficulties finding time for my hobbies this semester. That got me thinking about my hobbies and the hobbies I plan on taking up.

Last week I was talking with a friend, and I mentioned how home ec-y I am in my hobbies. I knit, cross-stitch, write, and cook, and I want to learn how to sew and garden. Thinking about them all together I realized that I really enjoy creating things.

When I was young I dreamt of being an artist when I grew up. Then I realized that I can't draw a thing and I gave up that idea. Since then I have come to understand that I still have a strong creative impulse, it just goes through different avenues. Around mile 200 of my drive my thoughts wandered back to my lack of knitting time this semester. I made a resolution - this year I am going to create something every day. Whether that be a few rows of my sweater, a paragraph, a few stitches, or just dinner, I'm going to create a bit each day, keep track of it, and see what happens.

I find joy in creating things - otherwise I wouldn't keep doing it - and one thing I know is that it's important to make time for the things you love, so starting today that's what I'm going to do. And if you're even a smidge interested, you can keep up with me here on this blog.

-Kathryn