My worst flight

(I promise this has a happy ending)

I had the worst flight of my life today. (not exaggerating) It started when they closed the door, and the guy on the other side of the aisle from me threw up. Made his way to the bathroom (which was only 2 aisles back) where we had the pleasure of hearing him continue to throw up for approximately…eternity.

Then there was the engine problems (don’t worry we won’t in the air), and the waiting for takeoff. As I sat on the (nonmoving) plane, I had (a lot) of time to sit and think on the ground, about Detroit, New York, and my life in between.

I love New York, and less than a week ago I didn’t want to leave to go be with my family in Michigan for Thanksgiving. But, there’s always a little apprehension in returning to New York after a visit anywhere, particularily a visit home to Detroit. Before you leave, the ball is rolling, work, play, friends, you’ve got your groove. Then…you leave and return to usually find the ball at a complete stand still.

As I sat on the (turbulence ridden, but finally in the air) flight, I thought of my current life. A life I love, but a life that is changing quickly. Almost every aspect of my life is currently in the process of changing…my job ends at the end of the year, my roommate moves out in March, a show closed that I’ve been working on for 2 years, and I have some new but more independent creative projects…

And, as I sat during the (very bumpy) landing, I thought about how the transition back into city life can be. It’s hard to feel like you leave a hole in a city that already barely has room for you, but basically I wanted to be missed.

Then, during my (pleasant and prompt) cab ride back to my apartment, I remember how much I love my life, struggles, changes and all.

(Ready to get that ball rollin’ again) I walk in to a clean apartment. On our table was a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and a Sephora gift pack from the strangers who guested at our apartment while we were away. Best of all, I had mail waiting…a packet from Sundance confirming I will be there this January, and a contract from the magazine I just sold a piece to. (Paid. As in, for money. Yippee!) The only thing that could have made me any more certain my city missed me is if I had a voicemail from a boy saying “I missed you”. (sigh) There’s always my next trip… =)

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Three (that's the outside)

(This is a birthday card from my friend, Rachel. I thought it was hilarious, so I'm posting it here...)

(inside)
Kara, (her handwriting)
It's your day to celebrate (printed on card)
Turning 3* is really great! (printed on card except the asterisk which is added in)

Wishing a A Very Happy Birthday (printed)
(all Rachel's handwriting...which is perfect by the way...from here on out)
Love, Rachel

*Okay, so technically I know you're not turning three - that was at least a couple of years ago - but weren't birthdays cooler when you were? I mean, you got balloons and pinatas and cake with your favorite cartoon on it, and none of your friends were too busy temping to come to your party - child labor laws rock - plus all the cards have fun rhymes about how cool it is that it's your birthday rather than saying stuff like "I hope you get laid man!" or "Oh my God, like isn't buying five hundred pairs of shoes and eating chocolate cream truffles like the best way to spend your birthday ever?!?!!" or "I am so indifferent to the day you entered the world that I failed to notice how tacky this card is." Growing up's a drag. Well, Happy Birthday!)

Thank You , Rachel!! Growing up is a drag, but your card made me laugh, and even became "blog-worthy".

First post

(sigh) my first blog post. (long cliche pause as I think about how I feel conflicted on whether I'm happy about starting this blog or not) Bear with me as I try to figure out my "blog persona". And, I don't know what it is. But I guess (warning, cliche follows) a lot of learning who you are is learning what you're not. So here are a few of my thoughts on the "blog persona"s I don't want :

"The Ranter" - I don't want to go on and on about what I don't like about mundane things in life, how angry they make me and how my only outlet of rage is my blog which other people will read, and either agree and join in my rant, or disagree and therefore begin a counter-rant against me. I don't want to be a blogger who types words and more words hoping it will get the rage out, but it doesn't. Ever. It just gets them more mad, and full of rage, right?! Why don't they learn? I mean I hate those people, you know! OOoo...I've had it with them...that's it. I'm going to spend the next 15 blog entries getting my rage out about those ridiculous ranters, because they...oh...wait, if I rant about the ranters I will be one of them, and I just said I don't want to be one of them.

"The Gossip" - I do not want to be an on-line gossip. I don't want to write about a bad date I had last week, and I will not get back at the guy by telling embarassing stories of how bad of a date it was to an invisible, anonymous cyber audience. But, maybe that's less because I don't want to gossip and more because I don't really go on dates...although there was this one guy who...shoot! My gossip nature is struggling to get out...I must not become one of them.

"The Soapboxer" - I do not want my blog to be my personal soapbox. I don't want to be a ranter on the non-mundane things of life. Politics, religion, and other topics that have this world at each others throats. Now, I do love that I could write about that stuff on here, I have the freedom of speech and all, but come on, I'd rather spread the love, talk about what we have in common not what divides, and basically every other sacchrine cliche you can throw out there. Come on, people! Love!! Do I need to say that louder, use a megaphone, maybe get on my...soapbox...once again, I need to stop, I'm becoming one of them.

So if I'm not those things what am I?

"The Alienator" - Well, I used the phrase 'one of them' too many times...if I don't want to be a ranter, a soapboxer, or a gossiper, what else is there to talk about? I've alienated myself from my own blog.

...at least I don't have to feel pressure to (ever) write another entry.