It’s been a while since I’ve sent out a non-poetic update to the interwebs, eh? Forgot I wrote more than cryptic, ooey-gooey life-riddles, did ya?
Well, to be honest… it’s a tad out of desperation, really. You see I, Katrina T. Nelson, am momentarily out of place.
That’s putting it nicely, excuse me–
I’m currently in such a panic at how overall lost I feel that I just needed to go somewhere (anywhere!) and utter something (anything!) with some certainty.
I currently have four overdue library books and I have no intentions of returning them any time soon?
Yeah, I’m pretty certain of that.
Heck, I’m also pretty sure I just quit some cupcake delivery service after just one day of work. You see, I thought it would make me really dynamic… make me a fuller Katrina. Cuz how random are cupcakes, really.
And how great would it be, to do it all! To be working part-time in an Italian motorcycle shop, part-time delivering cupcakes, part-time hunting down free-lance writing opportunities, part-time writing grants for a water and energy conservation company. To be part-time chasing down beautiful music! Part-time writing The Project! Part-time crushing 6 a.m. work outs! Part-time living up the beach life side-by-side with my sisters!
But how many part-time gigs can you juggle at once, anyway? Before you start to get dizzy, before you’re sprinting into shreds.
Cuz I’ve seen it: Life gets a kick out of silently watching as you wave your arms wildly and freely about. Life sits amused as you sprint and chant “Yo Life! You see me, runnin the world right now?! I gotchu all figured out! I don’t need sleep! Mothafucka you can’t touch me!”
Because Life loves games, too. Sometimes Life just chuckles and sits back until finally deciding to deliver you some real shit.
Life will remind you that you may be rich in dreams, but in reality can be broke as fuck in seconds. It will likely remind you this by delaying several paychecks.
Sometimes Life mixes you a cute, smart, life-loving boy…then adds a dash of distance, singing “Have fun trying to muster the travel time and money for this one, honey!”
Sometimes Life will remind you that Timing is everything, and if you can’t hang with the gas prices… then you definitely can’t afford distractions.
Sometimes Life punches you straight in the face while you’re driving— so hard that you’re knocked perfectly unconscious until your chin hits your chest, asleep—while you’re behind the wheel during a solo 2 a.m. drive from a concert in Los Angeles. For the second time that week.
Sometimes Life reminds you, “Who’s yo Daddy now, girl?! Go home for once. Go sleep. Stop trying to catch me. I’ll always be here… Unless you fall to pieces, ripped apart either by the freeway barrier or by your own emotional undoing.
“Go sleep, Katrina.” Life sighs, shaking his head and putting his hands on your sore shoulders. “You can’t enjoy me when you’re this tired and spent. You’re emotionally broke, and yet your Time is too filled. Don’t disappoint me like this, you know better. Go read your French journals.”
Cuz yeah, ideally I’d like to prove that I that I can stay up until 2 a.m every night either dancing, talking, reading, or writing… and then greet Lionel at 6:01 the following dawn, who’s laughing mercilessly with his shining teeth saying“Maybe next time you won’t be so late for your workout, eh?”
So I can apologize and right after rush home to chug 4 cups of coffee as I grab La and head to our daily dose of save-the-world-one-water-conservation-pump-at-a-time for our 8am-5pm work day.
So that I can make Larissa spend her lunch break in my Honda Fit, holding me as I cry that I’m so tired that I forgot how to sleep altogether.
So that I can look down and see text messages from old and new friends alike and not have the slightest energy to respond back.
Because, like Annika said—“Katrina, you’ve only been here for two weeks. Let Life fall together a bit more, damn. No one here expects you to have it all figured out already… except yourself, so slow down.”
So I listened.
I came here.
I’m at this blog for a quick minute, again.
To admit that gave up the cupcake shindig… cuz that shit was bogus anyway. It was gonna steal mileage from my new, beautiful car and my boss-lady was just a girly voice named “Lisa” calling me from San Francisco to tell me when deliveries were expected the next day. She also asked “How are you” without waiting to hear my answer, which I simply cannot stand.
So I’m just sitting here listening to Odesza’s new “No Sleep – Mix 10” and falling a little deeper in love with sounds outside my head.
At this brown kitchen table.
In this slightly-too-hot apartment.
With the night sky finally breathing in a soft, dark breeze through sliding glass door across the way.
In Newport Beach.
While I’m twenty-two.
With a short blond haircut, slightly over-grown.
And two blue eyes that I’ve been told slope down at the corners– just a little, ever so slightly– like my father’s.
And I find–
It’s not such a scary place to stand after all. Here, I mean.
As just Me, with incomplete aspirations and yet full enough as is.
…With four over-due library books that I have no intention of returning anytime soon.