Kera Chronicles

Heart in two places

Kera — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 01:28:00 GMT

So, I've noticed I've been lacking a great deal on this blog. It's really sad, but now as a professional writer, I don't really feel like writing on a personal level. Well that and I have to find the time for it.

Dude, it's weird to think of myself as a professional writer. My editor said that yesterday-- well, he was actually telling us that we need to get our stuff in earlier and we should be able to do that because we're all "professional writers."

Just to think about it... I'm being paid to write. How awesome is that?! It's exactly what I wanted to do up here. Write, be paid for it and gain fulfillment by what I'm writing. So 1. Write-- definitely, aaaalot 2. Be paid for it-- I could be paid more, considering I get paid less than a Census 2010 worker and a teacher 3. Gain fulfillment-- I definitely do. I love what I'm writing about, even if it is little events at schools. Sometimes I get touching pieces, like the high school student who was burned in December and how the whole community is helping to raise money for the medical expenses. Or the cover story I'm working on today about the job market, and gaining personal points of view to put faces on the issue.

I do love my job at Ottawa Delivered, but it keeps me from Rayce, which is the downer. I hate leaving him on Monday mornings. And I hate spending my Sunday nights dreading the morning b/c I don't want to leave. I especially hate the weeks I can't go home on Wednesday nights. Just one night during the week with him cooking hamburgers and us laying on the couch, sharing a blanket, watching TV is all I need to help the week go by faster, so I can get home quicker on the weekends. If I have something to cover that night, the weeks takes twice as long to pass.

So that's my dilemma. It's working right now, but I realize it won't be able to work forever like this. Compromises will have to be made, on both our ends. Just not sure when those will be made.

Coming home

Kera — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 04:07:00 GMT

The best thing about coming home is knowing it will always be home.

I’ve been in Illinois for the past six months, and I’ve finally come home to Louisiana for a week to spend time with my family and friends. I've never gone this long not seeing my family—friends, yea—but not the fam.

I’d never really missed my family when I was in college. I was only 2 and a half hours away, and I’d come home once a month and see them,but it always seemed more like a chore. But this time, I was very very eager to come home.

The warm weather, the food, the laughter, the warm weather,the accents, the hugs—did I mention the warm weather? Lol. In Illinois, it is rainy/freezing and cold, like cold-cold. The week before the week I left, I experienced my first snow and ice storm. I had to drive in snow. I woke up in the morning and it was 3 degrees.Three. Three. I worked my booty off to get all of my work done so that I wouldn’t have anything to worry about during my week home.

And I get here and the environment here is wet, 50-70 degrees and everything is dead—just as it should be in Louisiana in December.So great

Good God. My co-workers will not be able to understand me when I get back. I catch myself sounding more and more Cajun as the week goes,and I love it. I’m excited about all of the Louisiana gifts I bought for my co-workers. Chocolate covered pecans, Community Coffee and Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning—I know how to pass a good time, yea.

The past few days have been great—hanging out with the family, exchanging gifts with friends, relaxing and eating, a lot. My mom has cooked gumbo sausage and vegetable soup, but she also plans to make me an okra gumbo and then a stuffed chicken and rice dressing. I’ve also been filling up on Spicy McChickens, Sonic Dr. Pepper and mozzarella sticks, Southside Bakery hamburgers and Raising Canes Chicken Fingers. I’m going to gain 10 pounds this week.

Looking at the days I’ve had thus far, I can happily admit that I don’t want to go back to work, but I wouldn’t want to stay here. Rayce and I talked about being in my college town, and how college was great—but we’ve moved past that now. It was good while it lasted, but now we’re on to bigger and better things. I’m going to miss always miss Louisiana, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay here.

One of the sadder parts of this week is saying goodbye to my friends. Mostly Leigh, because I’m used to saying goodbye to my old high school friends and seeing them months in between, but I’m not used to that with Leigh.It was sad to leave her today after hanging around her, but what was great about it was that it felt like it was just yesterday since I had last seen her.

It’s like that with the friends that I take time to see—Alyssa,Hannah and Gavin who I will see later this week. You don’t have to see each other every day, and you can go a few months without talking—but when you’re together—it’s like nothing ever changed. Those are the keepers there, sha.

I know it’s going to be hard saying goodbye to my family on Saturday, but it must be done. I can’t only pray that my mom gets a job soon and will be able to afford to come see me for a change. I only have a limited supply of vacation days from work, so I can only travel here to see them every six months. I’ve done it once before, but I really don’t want to do it again.

That goes for my other significant people *cough, cough,Leigh, cough, cough*. Alyssa’s boyfriend is stationed in Missourri, so we’ve discussed meeting up in St. Louis one day, but I’m not sure if that will come to fruition. Hannah has the bebe, so that’s probably never going to happen.Gavin and Ben could possibly be in Chicago for some reason one day, and I could see them that way.

I’m so thankful for the time I’ve had to spend with my family and friends. You never really know how much they mean to you until you can’t be with them as easily as you wish.

Now that I have a job

Kera — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 02:00:00 GMT

You know I’m kind of embarrassed that I haven’t updated this blog in so long. Now that I have a job writing, I kinda forget to do it for enjoyment. So I apologize. But let me explain why:

I never could have anticipatedthe last month of my life. I’m the education reporter for a new media company located more than an hour away from Rayce. I got a cheap apartment here to stay up during the week, and I go to his house on the weekends. I also try to go home once a week if I can. It helps the week go by so much faster that way.

But yea, I thought being an education reporter in this somewhat sleepy little town would be fun and kinda easy… Then, one month into my professional journalism career and the high school teachers go on strike.

My world was thrown upside down. I no longer got to do fun little features for the print product. My main concern was current updates on negotiation numbers, the union said this and the board of education said that, teacher rallies and student rallies and AAAAHHHHHH! I had people following me on Twitter as I updated them on how negotiations were going. During that 10 hour meeting, I really wished I wouldn't have started Tweeting about the mediator walking back and forth, but that's all there was. And people loved it.

Then, the superintendent of the high school committed suicide. Woah. He was honestly the nicest source I had. He'd always returned my phone calls and emails, always answered my questions without a sense of formality, even offered me water whenever I interviewed him. He was just an all around nice guy. No one, besides his closest friends I'm sure, had any idea what kind of pain he was hiding behind his smile.

I had to cover his funeral. Needless to say I wasn't too comfortable with that, but I did it anyway. I paid my respects to him during his wake, kind of apologizing for having to work his funeral. I tried to be as discrete as I could during the church ceremony. The next day when the pastor called me to thank me for the story I did, I cried.

After his death, the strike just had a bad aura to it, and it really needed to end for the sake of the community, but it lasted another two weeks.

This community has been through so much, and I did my best to provide them with the information they needed. I gained a lot of respect by working so hard, and the bonds I've made with people are incredible. I love my job. I don't like how exhausted it makes me, or how I seldom get a break, or how mad Rayce'll get at me for taking it-- but I love it.

The strike ended just this past Monday, thank God. It lasted three and a half weeks. My editor gave me a big hug for breaking the story the night before. I felt like a rockstar, because I was the first medium to announce it was over. Oh yea, that was me.

I'm thankful for the strike, because it pushed me. It made me think deeper and write faster. When you HAVE to finish a story in 30 minutes or the whole print product will be late, you write. No questions. You just do it.

It also was a blessing in that it got our little newspaper noticed by the community it serves. People came to us for the news. Not the long-established traditional newspaper here-- us, the new guys.

So hopefully now that things have slowed down, I'll be able to take more time to build my blog. I have stories to tell, now that I'm actually out of the house.

Next up is how terrified I am of the upcoming winter, and how there are leaves everywhere up here!

Geese-- a reminder of the impending winter

Kera — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 07:09:00 GMT

I woke up this morning to the familiar sounds of geese squawking. To hear this sound while in bed reminded me of my parents house, in my twin bed on the weekend, trying to decide whether I should get up or not. The sound of geese usually does not appear in Southwest Louisiana until late-October... It's late August...

That's when I realized that the sound I was hearing was the beginning of geese flying south for the winter. In a few months, the same geese I heard this morning will be settling in the field outside of my Louisiana bedroom window, squawking until their little hearts are content. And in a few months I will be shivering my little booty off, wishing I was one of those geese I heard this morning.

My boyfriend and I can feel winter coming. It's sly, the little devil. It's still sunny alright, but the breeze-- the breeze has a slight chill. It's almost teasing in a way.

The high on Friday was 72. Crazy for August, I know. I wore a long sleeve shirt tonight to see "Inglorious Basterds." These simple facts are the coming of winter.

The geese can feel it too, that's why they're flying the fuck out of here... I like-a to say, holy crap. Holy, holy, holy, holy, holy, holy CRAP.

Dancing on the Ceiling

Kera — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 03:38:00 GMT

I got a job.

Let me repeat that, so it can sink in properly...

I GOT A JOB!!!!!!!!!!!

Yea, that's better

I've actually had this job for two weeks now. I was hired on the spot, like right after my interview. It's all kind of a blur now...

**commence dreamy flashback sequence**

I was called on a Wednesday and was completely flabbergasted that anyone was calling me about a job, let alone the one job description I remember getting excited over. The guy on the line had a good voice and seemed almost sincere and completely honest about journalism in its current state. Then he told me it was a start-up. I'd be there from the beginning, which is a thought that I loved.

Then he told me I was on the top of his list to hire.... EEERRRKKK, stop. What? Why? When he told me that, I really started to doubt this guy's legitimacy. Plus his name was Steve, the big-boss's name was Steve, and they were located on Stevenson Rd... Seriously?

I told him I'd meet him on Friday, which gave me a whole day to freak out, get my clippings ready (which he didn't even look at b/c I sent some writing samples in with my resume and cover), get the directions in order and research as much as I could about the town. Plus plan out what I was going to wear. (Sorry if my girliness offends you. Get over it.)

I made out a list of like 10 questions to ask during the interview, none of which asked about pay. From my research on "how to do well for a job interview," I learned to wait until the boss brings it up. Well in this case-- the editor.

When I got there, Steve the Editor was on his cellphone outside smoking a cigarette. He looked like the picture I found on Linked-In (which I found the day before when I Googled his name), so I knew I was in the right place. He shook my hand, led me to his office where they had just finished putting up the molding (yea, it's that much of a start up), and he told me to ask whatever questions I had. My questions took up one hour. His took 5 minutes. It was one question, which caught me-- like, complete deer-in-headlights moment.

He said, and this is me paraphrasing of course. "Ok, so you get here on your first day of work, and we have to put out content by the end of the day. What do you do?"

Damn. I should have been prepared for this one.. F... Ok, bullshit-- here we go. I pretty much said something... about like the unemployment rate... calling people with my beat.... and that was it.

I'm still not even sure what made him decide to hire me. (Steve the Editor told me later that the one thing he highlighted from my resume was "Editor in Chief." Thank God that year of hell was worth something!!!) But after we talked about salary, we were hungry so he took me downtown for lunch.

This is when things got awesome. He drove me to the downtown area, and we talked the entire time-- me asking questions and what not. When he parked downtown, there was this one moment that could not have played out better if he tried.

So in the park, there was this book fair, which was so cute. He took me around the fountain to show me where the Douglass and Lincoln debate took place (which the town marked with a lovely boulder). As we were rounding the corner of the fountain, music started playing from this stage where the local dance studio students were performing. It's was Lionel Richie "Dancing on the Ceiling." Like right as we rounded the corner, BOOM-- music. Awesome!

Then he took me to this really cute diner (where I ate the blandest hamburger in my life), and he told me that I didn't have to worry b/c I pretty much got the job! PHEW!

When I drove back that day, I was pretty much in a daze. I couldn't believe it!

So that's how I got my first real job. After being miserably unemployed for two months, something came up just like everybody said. Sure, it's an hour and 15-20 minutes away from where I'm currently residing with my boyfriend, but it's worth the drive. Hopefully I can find somewhere to stay in the town (only during the week) by winter, so I won't have to make the trek in the snow. That would so suck.

Real quick though, here are a few things I've learned over the past two weeks:

1. Double pane windows exist to keep out the cold, because it gets THAT FREAKIN COLD HERE.
2. If you're not on Twitter as a media professional, you're considered uncool.
3. No relationship is as strong as you think it is.
4. Always, no matter what, Spell Check. For the love of Mike, always Spell Check.
5. Never serve cheesecake at a "Preventing Childhood Obesity" seminar, because all of my friends will laugh at you.

Rocky, oh the Horror

Kera — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 04:40:00 GMT

"Damn it, Janet"

I'm watching "Rocky Horror Picture Show" right now, realizing that the only reason this movie is as popular as it is (it's a cult classic, Rayce, even though you've never heard of it) that people are drawn to absurdity/sexual promiscuity.

"Let's do the Time Warp again!"

Possibly people enjoy weird stuff b/c it's so out there and takes them away from their mundane lives. Secretly attracted to men dressed as women? Oddly aroused by a sequenced-covered tap dancer? Secretly want to be a sequence-covered tap dancer? Yea, this movie has it all.

"Hey, any you guys know how to do the Madison?!"

I first watched "Rocky Horror" when I was in the 7th grade. It was on TV and I was interested. My mom rented it later. I had no freakin clue what the hell was going on.

"I'm just a sweet transvestite... from transsexual Transylvania."

Then I watched it when I was in high school and realized it was a very sexually strange movie, and that all the Speechies loved it. I was drawn to its weirdness and Dr. Frank-N-Furter... That and I never knew Susan Sarandon could look so young (I was 15, what do you expect? I was just realizing that old people really used to be young people).

"In just seven days, I can make you a man"

I watched it again in early college, and the fact that Janet's bra fit didn't fit her right bothered me throughout the entire movie! It rides up her back-- the proper way to correct that would be to get a tighter band and probably up the cup size. Because the cup of a 34 C is the same size as the cup on a 32 D, but I digress.

Enter Meatloaf.

Why does he kill Eddie? In all of the times I've seen this, I've never fully understood that part. Is it because he likes girls? Well that's not his fault. He was born that way.

"Ttttttttouch me. I want to feel dirty"

But main part of this movie that troubles me is when Janet sleeps with Rocky. She does it to get back at Brad for cheating on her with Dr. Frank-N-Furter, but she slept with Dr. Frank-N-Furter too! Dr. Frank-N-Furter sneaks into both of their rooms. He does Janet, and then slips into Brad's room. But Janet feels really awful about giving her virginity to the seven-foot man dressed in a corset and tights and calls himself a doctor. But then she finds out that Brad cheated on her too. So she justifies that she would get back at Brad and Dr. Frank-N-Furter by sleeping with Rocky... Well that and she was obviously horny.

Janet!... Dr.Scott!... Janet!... Brad!... Rocky! *silently looks*-- Repeat 3 times.

Dude, people do that sh** for real. Justify their way into thinking what they're doing is ok. I'm sure this scenario has existed in real life, one way or another. That whole mind-set of "he cheated on me, so it's ok for me to cheat on him." (No, it's not. Now get back in your cage.) This movie acts as an example of how emotionally screwed up people can get themselves. Well that, and what happens when you create a blond stud-muffin and invite a bunch of squares into your house in order to corrupt them.

"You better wise up, Janet Weiss."

So really, this movie is a favorite for many because of its emotional retarded-ness, sexual nature, and catchy musical numbers that can't help but get stuck in your head. Admit it, you're singing the above bolded line, aren't you?

"You're a hot dog!"

So I guess the main lesson to be learned from this movie is that it's ok to fly your inner freak flag once in a while.

"Don't dream it. Be-e it."

Omg, I forgot they're aliens... Yea, I'm never watching this movie again.

Eharmony-- only for the good-looking ones

Kera — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 05:31:00 GMT

I was watching one of those eHarmony commercials-- you know, the ones with the couples that talk about how they got matched up 5 years ago on the website-- and as I was trying to figure out if the people on the screen were good-looking. The one with the dress shop owner and her tall-dark-and-handsome husband-- they are definitely a good-looking couple, but the one with the girl with the big mouth/little nose and her big-nosed small-mouthed husband are a little off.

But then I realized that those two are good-looking for TV, but kinda odd-looking for everyday. Because they are the opposites of each other. Not that they're unattractive, they're just a little funny together b/c of the comparable mouth to nose ratio.

Ok, so that thought led me to this thought-- why the hell are we still seeing the same people in the eHarmony commercials? If the site was working as well as they claim, shouldn't there be another couple's story to tell like at least every six months?

And then that thought led me to this sucker-- Maybe it's only the good-looking couples that get their stories turned into a commercial. Because let's be honest, no one would care to see the story of how Mr.Cross-eyed and Ms.Hair-lip got together. That's just not good TV.

So to my final conclusion-- eHarmony must be filled with a bunch of average/unattractive people for them to only put out 3 commercials every 2 years. I guess the "Made for TV" faces are few and far between.

God, I need a job....

Laugh like no one can hear you

Kera — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 05:44:00 GMT

Rayce and I see a lot of movies over the summer. It's like a rule with us. Every weekend we see a movie, even if we've already seen it already and just really really want to see it again. We're movie people, what can I say.

Anyhoo, last weekend we saw "ICE AGE 3: Dawn of the Dinosaurs." (Which now I get that song "Everybody walk the dinosaur... Boom, boom, chaka-laka-laka boom" caught in my head at least once a day. Ha, I probably did it to you) It was bloody fantastic! We didn't see it in 3D though, b/c I'm a wimp and 3D freaks me out.

We went to a late viewing of the movie, so it was a pretty small theater. By the time the previews started, there were only two other couples besides us. They both seemed around our age, maybe a little older. So it's one couple way at the top, Rayce and I in the middle, and another couple closer to the screen. Big emptiness... And two other couples. I must admit, it was kinda weird. It's like I almost didn't want to laugh too hard in fear that they would hear me.

You see, the great thing about seeing a movie with a whole bunch of people in it is that you don't stand out (except when I do my throat-laugh-thing). You're laughing just as hard as the guy next to you. But in this case, Rayce and I definitely stood out.

The couple in front of us didn't laugh. Like at all. They either didn't laugh or they laughed really low, b/c we couldn't hear them. The woman from the couple behind us laughed out loud a few times. Rayce and I-- we were like freakin kindergarteners in that theater!!! We were laughing our booties off! And yes, I did my throat-laugh-thing a time or two.

I mean Rayce and I were trying to be quiet at first, but then there comes a point where you have to silently stand up and say, "Screw you guys, I came to see a cartoon and LAUGH!"

Rayce laughed like 2 minutes when the tiger first lost its breath. I laughed and said "That's great" repeatedly during the whole squirrel tango sequence. We both laughed when the sloth was lecturing the T-Rex about him talking and her saying "grrr." And finally we BUSTED UP when the squirrel winked and jerked up the acorn as he and his girl were rocketing back up to the surface, leaving her falling back down. It was the perfect "F You" moment that was so surprising and completely hilarious!!

So moral of the story-- don't be weirded-out by other couples and their lack of humor awareness. Just sit back and laugh like you were 10 years old again. That's what cartoons are for.

Transformers 2: an insult to thinking movie-goers

Kera — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 06:28:00 GMT

I understand that movies are fictional and created for the enjoyment of the masses. "Transformers 2" definitely appealed to the masses, but for anyone with a brain and a simple spark of intelligent thought in that brain-- it lacked the general necessity that every story of any kind must have. Quite frankly, it didn't make sense. And that, my friends, is sloppy story-telling.

Now, I could go into the plethora of plot holes or dissect inconsistencies with the first "Transformers" movie, but it seems that all the other movie critic bloggers have beaten me to it. While reading the rantings of these Eagle Eyes, I also happened to read the comments that readers posted. While some readers agreed full-heartedly with the critical authors, others actually criticized the critics for being to critical (umm... that's their jobs)! Many of the comments boasted that the author needed to get a life, stop sucking the fun out of the movie, and even defended the loosely-pulled-together "Transformer 2" plot as being for kids and just for fun, so not to be taken seriously.

See, what confuses me about this mindset is how they can even begin to call "Transformers 2" a kids movie. The robots curse, many scenes on-campus are overtly sexual, there is so much "balls humor" that kids don't get AND it's 2 and a half hours long. NO CHILD can last in a movie theatre for 2 and a half hours, at least not parents that still have a trace of sanity left. Also, even if it is a kids movie, which it is not, that does not defend the lack of concise and sensible story-telling.

While sitting in the movie theater, watching the debauchery and absorbing dog-humping and the giant ass shot, I truly felt insulted. I felt like the movie, and all it's clichés and forced humor, was an insult to my intelligence.

I mean, for the love of Mike, how dumb do you think movie-goers are, Michael Bay? I know what makes sense, and what doesn't. What's funny, and what's not. You took a beautifully crafted story with likeable characters, a giant nerd and mass following alike, a guaranteed blockbuster of the summer and gave us-- crap.

Maybe he got too cocky? Maybe he was just eager to please? Or maybe he had no idea what he was doing, so instead he put just a whole bunch of crap together that people usually like...

Violence: check
Action: check
Sexuality: check
Funny new characters that hold no true relevance to the plot: check
Over-the-top crazy mom: check
The most references to testicles possible in one movie: check
Exotic location: check
Lots and Lots of slow-motion running: check
Dream/heaven sequence (which made me laugh out loud by its ridiculousness): check

Note to the Prime Gods-- less is more. The movie had too much going on at one time, without a concrete focus. It's like an ADHD 13-year-old boy wrote the script.

Now, I can't blame the actors. Shia Lebouef was just as likeable as ever and Megan Fox (which I've already claimed as one of my girl crushes-- the other being Marisa Miller) did what she did best-- pouted her lips and looked good while running. She is eye-candy, the main thing she does well. We know it, and so does she. So it's ok.

What I didn't know was how utterly disappointed in this movie I would be. Trust me, I didn't want to feel this way, but my personal integrity as a free-thinking individual forces me to repel "Transformers 2." I like to be challenged and enjoy movies, not be disgusted by them.

RIP Phoenix

Kera — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 19:30:00 GMT

I guess I could be all up in the trend of talking about Michael Jackson's death, but I'll leave that to everyone else. Truth be told, I'm a big fan of Michael Jackson and his death was shocking and sad. However, I was listening to his greatest hits album just last week-- so that proves that the man didn't have to die for me to listen to his music and appreciate his impact on pop culture.

But this entry is more personal than the dead of the king of pop. It is about the death of my buddy, my commrade, my dog-- Phoenix. She's the dog I wrote an entry about when she got in a fight with the neighbor dog (See backstabbing bitch for further details)

She died three days ago, but I'm just now writing about it. She started as a shared pet between my sister and me, but Phoenix became my dog after Jena wasn't home that much (because of nursing school an hour away) and work. She kept me company on lonely nights, cuddling on my hip while I tried to study. She'd sleep over at Rayce's house and always tried to jump in my backseat when I wasn't looking in hopes to go for a "ride."

I got Phoenix about two weeks before I met Rayce. I was in a definite rut that summer (2006) due to heartache, and Phoenix helped relieve all that. My slogan became-- "There would be no war or sadness in the world if everyone just got a puppy! " She made me so happy! Then Rayce came along and made everything so much better. I'd even call him to come over to play with Phoenix and tire her out so I could do some homework!

She was my favorite photography subject and fun to play "pick up sticks" in the yard while I picked up debris from the weeping willow in my yard after a bad storm. Her favorite activities included running, catching something you threw and having you chase her around to get it back, barking at neighbors and black people, sleeping on the sofa and having her belly rubbed.

She had quite the personality. She loved Rayce, but hated any all other men. She was shy to strangers, and the best way to get her to like you was to ignore her (typical woman). She would hop higher than any other dog I knew (when I say hop, she would spring up from all fours and her nose would seriously touch my elbow!) She'd love to go visit the dogs at my parents' house, where she would then be referred to as our "country girl." By the time she got older, she recognized my camera and didn't like photo opportunities (example, the mean face she's giving me with the bow around her neck).

She was home alone a lot, and I knew she craved to be an outside dog. This past fall, with all of my homework and stuff I really couldn't pay enough attention to her and she started acting out. So I left her at my parents' house to stay. She liked to play with the other dogs there and enjoyed being outside. It still sucked to leave her there.

I knew she had heartworms, and to be honest I didn't want to pay $60/month for HeartGuard or something, so I just let it be. She turned 3 years on May 12 of this year, and I noticed the last time I went to my parents' house that she was breathing really hard all the time.

She was found in my parents' garage with a little blood around her mouth. I'm hoping she died in her sleep. She was a good dog, and will be greatly missed.

You know that old sayin...

Kera — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 20:00:00 GMT

The grass is always greener on the otherside of the fence... No really, this time it is.

Journey to the Unknown

Kera — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 01:48:00 GMT

I'm in the process of moving. And by process I mean the Uhaul is all packed up and we leave tomorrow. The problem with traveling with my family (who are hauling the Uhaul and helping move), is that we all have to agree. We have to agree on the way we're going, where we're going to stay, etc. And that's hard to do when no one is willing to make a decision. I'm used of them doing it and perhaps they're expecting me to do it... I have no idea. Do they consider me an adult? (yea, like that's every going to happen) Should I act like an "adult" and just think people will follow along?

This whole "almost adult" stage of my life is very awkward. I don't know if I'm supposed to know what I'm doing or not. I'm 22 (which I just turned 22 and it was strange b/c it was just a normal day with a bunch of people wishing me "Happy Birthday"), and I am not at all ready for it. 22 sounds old-- like an adult. 21 is just legal with no strings attached. At 22-- here comes the assumed strings.

I graduated college (whoopie!) and am moving to another state with my boyfriend. He has a job and is there now, I'm still looking in that specific area where he is. So I feel like all of the changes in my life are out of my control, in a way. I didn't decide where I would be residing, my boyfriend's job did. I don't really have control over my first job, the person who offers me a job does. (In this society, a writer without any prior experience, like me, should count their blessings to simply get a job. I can only hope I like it and it pays the bills.)

Plus, I have no idea what's to come. Before now it's been pretty easy. Go to school... Go to school... Go to school... Even college-- I went to a school I was familiar (somewhat) with because my sister went there. After my first year, it became a comfortable routine. But now my routine is shot to sh... Well, it's just gone.

So wish me luck guys! I get to spend the next few days in an emotional roller coaster with my parents' and have them leave me in Illinois to transition into my idea of an adult. Yea, the blogs will get more frequent from now on.

Packing

Kera — Sat, 23 May 2009 21:57:00 GMT

Sorry it's been so long since I've last updated (Kelli). I'm done with college and in the process of packing up the last four years of my life. It's weird, I'm not too too attached to the trailer, but I will miss it since it did define my life here recently. The transition into college, late night doing homework, watching movies, etc., life with Rayce, life with and without Jena as a roommate, Kelli as a roommate, cooking experiments, not cleaning... lol.

I just don't know how I managed to fit so much crap in my room! It's amazing. What is more amazing (/pathetic) is how much I'm not throwing away. I grow emotional attachment to things very easily. It's sad really. Like the frog stuffed animal sitting by my computer right now. I remember buying it at Excerds (yea, before CVS bought them out) during that red and roses time after new years and before Valentine's Day. The frog is little, with a little red bow on her head (the bow makes her female, try to keep up) and a "Kiss Me" heart on her butt. It's on her butt- like to kiss her ass. Yea, I'm keeping that sucker FOREVER!

I found an old diary that started in high school and ended two days before I met Rayce. It documented the highs and lows of high school and a past relationship. I like to think that after I met Rayce I didn't have any need for a diary to deep my thoughts of distress and confusion, because I was neither distressed nor confused once he came into my life. Gushy, I know. Sorry.

I also found the reason I got a B in my Ethics class this semester. The class required three books written by three different philosphers. By the end of the semester, of course, I had lost the third book. A friend of mine in the class said I'd probably find it when I was moving, a statement I forgot about until I found the book in a pile of papers on my dresser in my room. I'll also be keeping that book forever, lol.

My room is still a mess, but Kelli's room is completely empty and it makes me really sad. Even though we barely saw each other while we lived together and she didn't know how to work the AC, dishwasher or empty the lent trap in the dryer (lol, I love you Kelli), she was still a really good friend and a joy to run into in the kitchen from time to time. I wish we would have been able to be roommates some other year besideds our senior year, which turned out to be much harder than either of us expected. Maybe we would have been able to hang out/ simply see eachother more. But it was still fun-- and we kicked butt during kickboxing!

On a brighter note-- I managed to sell the giant tacky flamingo picture in my living room. It's 64 inches by 50 inches, basically huge. I sold it to the mom of the same buy that made the comment about my Ethics book. Lol. As for the rest of the trailer-- I still have my bathroom, the rest of my closset, the kitchen, the living room and the rest of the random crap still annoyingly cluttering my room.

So to my trailer, I have to say goodbye. I'm moving on to bigger and better things, but I will miss the sound of rain on your tin roof and the sense of sanctuary I found when walking through the door after spending a weekend/month at my parents' house. I will not miss the lack of cell phone reception and having to talk on my phone near a window or door. I will also not miss that drip from the front porch roof RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR... Kinda defeats the purpose of having a porch when it rains if you get your hair wet just as you walk through the door.

Now to Illinois!!! Oh wait, I have to finish packing first... Damn.

Common vs. Uncommon

Kera — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 23:31:00 GMT

I just wanted to share with you guys some observations I've gathered since January.

UNCOMMON

This is not common for Louisiana. It picture was taken in January during the "deep freeze." The high for that day was like 30, which is unheard of in Louisiana. It was simply amazing.

COMMON

This, unfortunately, is common in Louisiana. It was taken in the parking lot of my local Wal Mart. Notice how the person originally misspelled "Baby" and almost misspelled "come," because you can tell the "e" is an after-thought. "Bak," well... there's no saving it. It was simply hilarious.

Lost companion

Kera — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 23:57:00 GMT

I know, I know-- it’s been like two... maybe three... months. I apologize. I’m seriously trying to graduate and was a significant member in the small staff that produces a 300 page book. Yearbook I mean, and if anything could go wrong-- it did. But that’s over now, so I have time for myself.

I would like to share an experience with you that happened to me over the weekend. No, it’s not the experience I had when I accidently pissed in a men’s bathroom (although, that first-time experience is probably way more interesting than what I am about to tell you). This experience is close to my heart, because it affected me WAY more than I thought it would.

I thought I lost my camera.

Now this may not seem significant to you, but it was to me and I had no idea it would affect me as strongly as it did. I’ve been having my digital camera since the fall semester of my sophomore year. That’s two years. It has been with me everywhere, my purse companion through the ups and downs of life.

It’s been with me through the woo-stage of my boyfriend and my relationship, Phoenix, St. Louis, New York City, Washington D.C., Dam Runs, lunches with friends, park playtime, Student Media Shin-digs, etc. That’s a lot.

Her name is Black Betty, b/c I like the song and she’s black (and because I like to name things after Rock n Roll songs, except for Phoenix). She fits perfectly in my purse. Her “trashcan” button doesn’t work and the battery door doesn’t stay closed all the time because Phoenix chewed on her. The strap on her corner is actually broken and held together by a huge glob of super-glue. She’s special.

And this weekend, I thought I’d lost her.

It was strange of me not to have Black Betty with me, especially when I went to Lafayette to see Jeff Dunham in the Cajun Dome. That seems like a moment I should have had her with me. So I figured I’d left her at my house, but I couldn’t find her when I got back here.

I have moments when I think I lose things where I don’t look too-too hard in the fear that I’ve really lost it. I did that for like 3 months when I lost my Minnie Mouse watch until I finally concluded that I lost her. Luckily I found her like 6 months later.

So I just glanced around my room and living room and bathroom and car... But I had this gut feeling that she was gone. I even called the bowling alley where I bowled a 103 (oh yea, 103... 3rd game, but w/e) last Friday, thinking maybe I left her there. But no.

So I had a panic-y feeling in my stomach Tuesday and Wednesday when I’d think of my camera. I still had pictures on her that I wanted to post on here (which I will, I promise). I still had pictures from Gavin’s last marching band performance... So much... All gone.

But then a friend told me she’d seen my camera in the newsroom... And it all came rushing back. I’d left it in there on Friday, after proofing the book. I had her out of my purse to put a picture on the server. Yes, I suddenly remembered.

It’s strange, the sense of relief that washes over a person when he or she finds something they thought was lost. Even more significant is the feeling of relief that washes over a person when he or she finds something that MEANS A LOT to them that they thought was lost.

It somewhat shocked me how much emotion I attached to my camera. I really didn’t think my camera meant that much to me. It’s kind of like the pinky ring I wear all the time. I always have it with me, and take it for granted most/all of the time. But the few times I’ve lost this ring (twice, and I’ve found it usually 30 minutes after realizing I couldn’t find it), I feel like I can’t breathe.

That just goes to show how much I attach to items. My pinky ring, my Minnie Mouse watch, my camera-- I’ve had all of these items for a very long time and therefore have attached significant memories to them.

If my camera had broken, I would have been sad, but not panic-y like I was when I lost it. It breaking is different than me losing it. It would have completed its course, lived and died, if it had broken. But it just suddenly disappearing makes it feel like it was stolen from me-- except it’s my fault.

Moral of the story-- don’t leave your camera in the newsroom.

No, just kidding. Maybe it should be to recognize the personal attachment you have to items, so you don’t realize it only after it’s gone.

You know, the whole “not realizing how much something means to you until after it’s gone and you can’t have it.” (Insert past experience, either romantic or platonic, here) That.

Communicate People!

Kera — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 04:39:00 GMT

I really believe this world would be much more peaceful if people learned how to communicate properly with each other, or at least realize the importance of communication. Most problems are the result of a lack of communication-- being aware that a lack of communication is the real problem at hand and having the patience to deal with it would make for a happier world for all of us.

My mom and sister got in an argument that, in my opinion, was the result of improper communication. The fault was on both sides, but neither one of them are patient enough to work it out. Momma gets on her “momma podium” and doesn’t know when to stop and my sister gets too emotional and just storms off in a huff without properly expressing why she’s so upset. And I’m stuck in the middle trying to mediate. My thing is that they just need to have a grown up discussion, with my sister doing most of the talking for a change and standing up for herself.

It made for a horrible Christmas Eve night and a somewhat uncomfortable Christmas Day. So to all reading this-- find the patience to really talk to a loved one, even if it seems like the most difficult thing in the world to do. You owe it to them not to give up, and it will strengthen your relationship in the long run.

I manipulated a picture of myself in Illustrator to create the image on the right. I did it on Christmas Eve while bored out of my mind.

All American Rejects

Kera — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 07:57:00 GMT

So while I’m bored out of my mind at my parents’ house over my winter break, I realized that it’s been a freakishly long time since I’ve updated my blog. The month of November was pretty tough. I was so absorbed with school that I didn’t even run. Dude, that’s bad.

But I must inform you all (what three?) of my most recent obsession. Well, it’s not really an obsession, it’s just my most recent crave-- The All American Rejects.

You must understand that they are really the only band that I’ve followed pretty closely since the end of my freshman year of high school. I claim that they’re the only vice I’ve kept since my high school days, which is mostly because they have yet to disappoint me. (I love/d Linkin Park, but their most recent album disappointed me-- so AAR is on the top of the list).

They’re new album came out Dec. 16, so I’m still in the honeymoon stage. Seriously, I look forward to going somewhere in my car JUST so I can listen to their CD. I even joined their website. I feel like the only 20-something year old in the SEA of 13-16 year old girls who improperly use ellipsis over and over again and refer to themselves as Emo... yea... like... yea.

Anyhoo, what I most respect about AAR is how they grow artistically with each album. Their albums have the same “sound” but improve. They’ve yet to get themselves in a box, which is sometimes hard to do in the music business.

My most recent rave about AAR is their Britney Spears “Womanizer” rendition. OMG, it’s so good. First of all-- it’s creative. They use a little accordion, the clink of beer bottles, an acoustic guitar and tambourines. That’s it. And it sounds better than Britney’s version. Well, it’s pretty obvious that they have some spare time on their hands to mess around to such an extent to produce such a wide range of sounds.

I also love it because they’re branching out. It’s not their usually kind of music, and it’s is extremely creative. Plus, it’s freakin hilarious that AAR decided to cover “Womanizer.” Check out the Interscope Records' AAR page to see what I mean.

Senioritis

Kera — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 05:29:00 GMT

You know, I've just come to the point in my scholastic career that I just really don't want to do homework. Seriously--no more. Zip, ziltch. I realize that in my senior year in college, I think I’ve done more homework than in any other semester.

I’m not much of a homework person. Since I’m a journalism major class “assignments” do not usually add up to homework. Like if I have to work on a story or I have to work on a flyer or something. If it’s useful towards my major and consists of some kind of writing, I usually don’t consider it homework. I guess it’s because I have to do so much other kind of writing for yearbook and the newspaper that I don’t consider it too strenuous. Let me break down what I consider homework.

1. Papers (English or research) that demand a type of format and a limited number of pages. Whoever thought the longest paper I’ve ever written in my college career would be towards my minor (freakin Art History I). While I do enjoy writing the papers and sometimes the research that goes along with it, this is undoubtedly considered homework.

2. Reading assignments. I hate reading assignments. If you’re a good enough teacher, I should only have to breeze through the book, not read paragraphs over in order to understand it (freakin statistics). I also have a lot of reading for my online English class. I remember the last English class I took was an in-class course and was more of a lecture, where Dr. Pritts stood at the podium and told us what he thought of the story. With my online English class we have a crap-load of reading assignments and must respond to them online. This process if very tedious, and while I enjoy the essays I read, I don’t particularly like the fact that I HAVE to read them. Oh, I gave up on reading along with Art History. If his tests were more geared towards the chapters and not towards memorizing the paintings, maybe I’d feel a need to.

3. Homework exercises, like when a teacher assigns problems from the back of the chapters to work. I get this all the time with Statistics. I understand the need for them, but that doesn’t make them less annoying.

I probably seem like such a whiner to some of you hard-core college kids, but as a student journalist-- I’ve got enough to do. I still need to write three more RSO stories for the yearbook and must catch up on the two weeks of reading I completely ignored for my online English class.

I feel like at 21 years old, I just want to start doing what I love and not jumping through hoops to graduate. I understand homework is an essential part (not as important as teachers seem to think) of schooling, but enough is enough. Gosh, it’s going to be so hard to get back into the homework gig in grad school after taking a break for a while to work. Hopefully I’m better at managing my time then than I am now.

Clean it up

Kera — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 04:13:00 GMT

Ok guys, I really need to start cleaning up this blog. My site statistics show that some of the most recent searches that popped up my blog and people read some entries were for phrases like "older woman girl crush" and "middle school panties." Whoever searched for "middle school panties" and read my Hole-y Panties entry must have been vastly disappointed... sick.

Yea... so it's strictly butterflies and unicorns from now on.

Miss Fox

Kera — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 03:54:00 GMT

A recent comment on my girl crush entry made me want to re-touch the subject to let you know how I’m doing with that.

The comment (I don’t recognize the email of the writer, but I always welcome new readers) shared my feelings towards girl crushes and my newest infatuation-- Megan Fox.

You’re right, Websophia8. Megan Fox is the “it girl” of today. About two weeks ago, I bought the GQ with Miss Fox donning the cover. This was my first men’s magazine purchase solely to read/look at pictures about a female celebrity. My two Marissa Miller magazines (Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition and Maxim) were both bought for me by my boyfriend. He’s more than eager to support my Marissa admiration. But this was a mile marker-- I bought Megan Fox.

Her pictures are really good, kinda “bad girl.” But I really really like the story. No seriously, I bought it for the story. The pictures do help though.

My Marissa magazines don’t have much of a story to support the images, but this one… I mean wow-- to spend what seemed like the whole day with a girl and capture her so seemingly truthfully is inspiring. Seriously, I want to do that one day. Spend the whole day at a comic book convention with Megan Fox and get paid to write about it-- it sounds like so much fun!

I think I’m going to start purchasing/ reading more men’s magazines. Besides the cover story with Miss Fox, there are some pretty fascinating stories. It’s like me sneaking a peak at the male psyche. I particularly like the men’s magazine called “Details.” I once was in Books-A-Million and read like the whole thing, including the Shia Lebouf cover story, in like one sitting. Stories on first sexual encounters, circumcisions and men’s shopping addictions fascinated me. I mean, I sometimes get sick of reading women’s magazines because they get monotonous sometimes (not “Allure,” I mostly mean “Cosmo”).

Well, back to Megan Fox-- I almost bought the newest edition of Maxim with her on the cover at Blockbuster, but it was like wrapped in plastic and I felt like a middle aged man buying porn or something. So I didn’t. I’ll just wait for my boyfriend to buy it for me