<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:45:50.972-05:00</updated><category term='Family'/><category term='Epic'/><category term='Philosophicalization'/><category term='Chitter Chatter'/><title type='text'>The Curse of Apathy</title><subtitle type='html'>I was in school forever and now I'm not. I don't miss it. I'm trying to figure out what comes next. In the meantime, I'm pretty lazy.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-945978207118565969</id><published>2010-01-28T18:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T18:38:42.701-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Site!!</title><content type='html'>I have said farewell to Apathy and have created a new and exciting project. Please head over to my new blog, &lt;a href="http://mirrorproject.wordpress.com/"&gt;The Mirror Project&lt;/a&gt;, for a new adventure I am beginning. Thanks to everyone who has read and followed this blog!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-945978207118565969?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/945978207118565969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-site.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/945978207118565969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/945978207118565969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-site.html' title='New Site!!'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-2318991481859050571</id><published>2009-09-01T16:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:50:22.747-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Epic'/><title type='text'>Life is a Highway</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bat12wZZe58/Sp2CLs8lZlI/AAAAAAAAACk/3vBuN5fvnd0/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376596667705681490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bat12wZZe58/Sp2CLs8lZlI/AAAAAAAAACk/3vBuN5fvnd0/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, can we all just let out a collective gasp that it’s September? I mean, really. I know it’s standard procedure for us humans to marvel at the speed of time, and in October we will say, “I can’t believe it’s already October!” But dang, time flies. Especially, of course, when you want it to go slower. For almost two months now I have been looking at September as the dreaded marker of time when my days in Boston would be numbered. I’ve had Craig and Laurie’s wedding to look forward to, knowing that after that had passed the remaining time I had in Boston would be spent seeing friends for the last time and packing. And with the wedding and my mini CA vacation behind me, that’s exactly what I’m doing. On Saturday I had an amazing night of pizza and conversation with my good friend Krista, who single-handedly helped me survive my grad program. On Sunday, my lovely friends from Hope Fellowship hosted a BBQ for me at my favorite place in Mass – Pierpont Meadow Pond, otherwise known as the Josti Lake Compound. It was an awesome day of burgers, tubing, and games, and I thank those who came and those who made it happen. Throughout the course of this week and next, friends will be stopping by to watch me pack (they know they can’t help – we all know I’m too anal for that) and maybe share a meal. It’ll be great. I’m determined not to make my goodbyes a spectacle, but my friends are determined to make me feel special – the result is a great compromise of good times and me not shedding tears, which is just how I want it. I’ll also of course be trying to spend as much time with Steph as possible, and I know there is at least one Wednesday Night Gang activity planned, though it won’t be happening on Wednesday. Kite flying and lobster here we come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyhoo, besides all the goodbye activity buzzing, I also have the Great Cross-Country Road Trip of 2009 to look forward to. My fearless Aunt Gail will be flying in next week to tackle the wide open country with me – Southern style – and I couldn’t be more excited. We have quite an adventure planned, including visiting family in Dallas, enjoying cacti in New Mexico, and my personal favorite, an ambitious Tennessee Hunt to find Elvis. Knowing my aunt, I have no doubt we’ll discover where he’s been hiding all these years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Related to our southern road trip, some matters to discuss with y’all. Throughout the course of our trip, Gail and I will be passing through a total of 12 states – not including the ones we are starting and ending in. Personally having never been to eight of them, I’m quite excited to check them off my list. However, it has come to our attention that strict guidelines have been set in place by the All Knowing One, aka Mama Polly, regarding the credit we will receive for passing through these states and whether it constitutes an official “visit.” Namely, that in order to receive credit, we must have “stimulated the economy” of said state. Never backing down from a challenge, Gail and I fully accept Mama Polly’s terms, and need your cleverness and creativity to help us come up with an activity we can do in each state to receive our credit. For example, when Steph and I did a cross-country trip back in 07, we stopped in each state and purchased something. Steph bought magnets in the shape of the state we were in, and now has a pretty neat collection of the exact route we took to get to MA on our fridge. I bought post cards – cool, but not nearly as neat. Now, we need something similar that will a) satisfy the terms of the agreement, b) not break my bank, and c) not take up so much time as to arrive in Sacramento three years from now. If you have any ideas, we’d love to hear them in the comments section! I also plan on continuing the dangerous tradition of stopping at each state welcome sign and posing in front of it. I will never forget the near-death experience Steph inflicted on me at the Nevada state sign, and I plan on hazing my aunt with this wonderful adrenaline rush so as to start our trip out right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One or both of us will most likely be blogging or posting our progress, because sadly we are both rather addicted to the internet (Gail’s retired and I’m 25…I don’t know which excuse is more justified, if at all). If you have any advice, encouragement, or random information you think would help us enjoy our trip more, please let us know! Especially if you've been to a particular state we are going through. We are down for anything. I’ve included a picture of the route we are taking so that you guys can see the journey that we are embarking on. We welcome your prayers for our safety, your best wishes for our sanity, and your good luck in finding Elvis. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-2318991481859050571?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/2318991481859050571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-is-highway.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/2318991481859050571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/2318991481859050571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-is-highway.html' title='Life is a Highway'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bat12wZZe58/Sp2CLs8lZlI/AAAAAAAAACk/3vBuN5fvnd0/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-8026430427314880994</id><published>2009-08-14T11:27:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:49:29.853-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chitter Chatter'/><title type='text'>How to Survive the Work Day When You Work Where I Work</title><content type='html'>My job is both a blessing and a curse. Well, mostly a curse. But there are a few bright spots. For one, I don’t do anything relatively important. Oh, the work I do is necessary. It’s even, on most occasions, valued. But it’s not life or death. I don’t deal directly with clients. I rarely have contact with upper management. If I’m not here, my department survives. Yeah, having a more important job may bring passion and meaning to my life, but being invisible isn’t so bad either. Another reason it’s a blessing is the inherent cyclical nature of my job. We rigidly operate within the four quarters, like many other fields, but I only technically have a lot to do for about one month out of every three-month quarter. There are only four weeks every quarter where I feel truly overwhelmed, but even then I’m kind of stoked because it means overtime. The other two months are fairly light, and I usually have just enough to do to keep me busy but not so much that I want to poke my eyes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, and this is one of the curse parts, there are also weeks where I have nothing to do at all. Not like oh I’ll eek out the few tasks I have for the day. Like, nothing. Nada. That is A LOT of wall staring my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is one such day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having such a curse placed upon me means I spend a lot of time roaming around the internet. I’m not proud of it. Trust me, I wish I could be learning Mandarin, or solving the New York Times crossword of the day. I know these are much more noble ways to spend my free time. But it is what it is. Because of this, I consider myself somewhat of an internet connoisseur. No, I have not discovered everything that is to be discovered on the internet.* But I do have a pretty solid repertoire of websites that keep me informed and entertained enough to handle my 8-hour sentence in this office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I like keeping things to myself so I can feel superior to others, I’m willing to share a small sample of my favorite websites, so that you too can survive the work day and feel human enough at the end of the day to actually enjoy happy hour. Or, if you’re broke and super classy like me, you can wind down with cheap wine as an appetizer followed by a finger (maybe two) of whiskey, capped off by a choreographed, stirring rendition of Livin’ on a Prayer at your local watering hole – which coincidentally enough happen to be my evening plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here, listed in no particular order, are some of my favorite websites to drop in on throughout the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pop Candy – Blog written by USA Today staff writer Whitney Matheson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogs.usatoday.com/popcandy"&gt;http://blogs.usatoday.com/popcandy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pop Candy is by far my favorite work day site. It’s a daily blog dedicated to all things pop culture, and is the perfect mix of mainstream content and indie fare. The Early Buzz in the morning is a round-up of what’s new and notable in pop culture, followed by a continuous supply of blurbs and blots – perfect for a pop culture junkie such as myself. Whitney is very funny and down to earth. I’ve even had the pleasure of meeting her in Austin when she held a meet-up for her readers at SXSW. She’s as cool in person as she appears on her blog, and she works really hard at what she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dooce – Blog written by humorist Heather Armstrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com/"&gt;http://www.dooce.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dooce is a website that was recommended to me by my life partner Steve. The best way I can describe the blog and Heather’s style is by saying she’s kind of like the female, mom version of David Sedaris – she takes really ordinary, every day occurrences and makes them into hilarious vignettes. She mostly writes about her husband Jon, their children (one who just arrived), and their two crazy dogs Coco and Chuck. She has a wicked sense of wit and a real talent for writing. I’d recommend mining her archives, as she hasn’t posted as much recently with the birth of her new daughter. There are some classics in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On the Rocks&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ashontherocks.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.ashontherocks.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a relatively new blog written by an old high school friend of mine. After college, Ashley was able to lose weight and get healthy by recreating her favorite “fat-food” recipes into more calorie-friendly dishes. Now, she wants to help others by sharing the recipes she has created. I love her blog for a lot of reasons. One, it’s not about dieting. At all. Ashley didn’t starve herself to lose her weight. She simply discovered a way to make healthy food taste as good as the unhealthy food. Secondly, this is real food for real people. There are burritos, pizzas, and pasta. They are made with ingredients that are easily available. And the best part is that they are easy for a person living alone or with just one other person to make. Mostly Ashley just cooks for herself and her boyfriend, and they are remarkably easy things to make. Part of my frustration with many recipes is they are intended for a family of 4 or 5 and assume you have an assortment of strange ingredients (which usually I’ve never heard of) in your cupboard. I’m poor, I’m single, and I’m lazy – that kind of stuff is clearly not for me. She includes pictures as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FML &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/"&gt;http://www.fmylife.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I debated whether listing this one was a good idea, because as a rule, I try not to participate in things that are a) trends or fads, because I like to conform by not conforming and b) is super negative, because I generally like to be a happy person. This site is both a fad and depressing. And it’s really not meant for people like me, who constantly judge today’s culture and pretend to be above it (example: I’ve never gone to Perez Hilton’s website and don’t have a Twitter account, and yes I pretty much judge everyone who does). But, if I’m going to really share what sites keep me occupied during the day, I have to include this one. See, I may be a judger, but at least I’m not a hypocrite? But yeah, this site is hilarious. And so very addicting. Sometimes after reading it I have the urge to just hug everyone I know and tell them to keep their chin up. I also sometimes feel the urge to bathe. So what is this site? This is where the acronym fml came from, which if u r not dwn wit 2dys lingo ur prolly confused. fml stands for “eff my life” and it’s what those crazy kids these days say instead of “Darn, I had a really bad day.” On the website, people post short little stories about why their life sucks today. It’s thoroughly depressing and really such a waste to actually take time to focus on such negative things, but there you have it. Some are hilarious, a few really lame, and about half I’m sure are completely made up. Peruse at your own risk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wikipedia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah yeah, pretty predictable, but oh such a lovely time-waster! Now, my favorite way to enjoy Wikipedia on a slow day at work is to start with one broad topic, say the origins of hip hop, and then zone in on something that catches your interest. Click on that, then click on something else, and so on, and then you’re off. Soon you’ll be reading about the “Book of Dead,” an Egyptian funerary text. No joke. It’s a wonderful way to pass the time, and you’ll have a week’s worth of dinner conversation stored up as a bonus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now that's all you get, because if I showed all my cards you'd never come back :( Really, it's just because I'm so dang chatty and listing five websites took up the equivalent of 11 trees in web space. Future installment to come for sure. Unless people don't like my internet tastes. Hard to believe, but I guess it's plausible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Although I have been known to exasperatingly cry, “I have run out of Internet!!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-8026430427314880994?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/8026430427314880994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-to-survive-work-day-when-you-work.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/8026430427314880994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/8026430427314880994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-to-survive-work-day-when-you-work.html' title='How to Survive the Work Day When You Work Where I Work'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-7456786597873138252</id><published>2009-08-11T11:42:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:48:21.081-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Philosophicalization'/><title type='text'>The Art of Inarticulation</title><content type='html'>A strange quirk about me is my complete lack of articulation when it comes to my feelings. My best friend and roommate for the last several years, Steph, knows this all too well (she once tried to beat the words out of me – for real, she kicked me – but that’s a story for another day). When it comes to expressing what I mean in a high-pressure situation, I’m a lost cause. My eyes dart, my fingers twitch, and my speech becomes essentially non-sensical. This is true for any number of situations – a confrontation, a deep conversation that gets emotional, or an awkward encounter where something honest has to be said. It partly has to do with my personality - I’m just not at ease with sharing much of anything. It also, I’ve come to accept, just has to do with a glitch in the wiring of my brain. The signals get crossed, the receptors get flummoxed, and all the sudden I’m incoherent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the strange thing about this is, when you get me in front of a computer, with the printed word, all the sudden the words come naturally and easily, and I can say what I want to say so perfectly. It used to drive many of my friends nuts (especially Steph – have I mentioned the beating?). If I was feeling down about something, they’d ask what was wrong, I’d try to blabber for a few minutes, then we’d get online and I could share what was bothering me. Steph and I have had full-length philosophical conversations with each other being in the same room on our laptops. Nuts, I know (and for sure a really sad commentary on the state of interpersonal interaction). And it wasn’t that I wanted to be dramatic about it. I’m embarrassed I can’t sit face-to-face with someone and tell it straight. I was just so much more comfortable writing it out. And trust me, it made so much more sense this way. Though Steph hates it, she’s learned she’d much rather hear what I have to say through gchat then sit there in consternation trying to figure out what it was I just tried to tell her. Ask her. But anyways, I can’t tell you why this is. Some would say it’s cuz I’m a pansy. I’m stickin with my brain wiring theory. Either way, the keyboard is my friend, and the spoken word is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said all that, I'm going to use this lovely computer screen to hide behind and say some things I probably wouldn't be able to say if you asked me straight up how I’m feeling, which is what many people have been doing since I made the decision to move back home and started telling people. Not only will this answer the question and provide an articulate answer to my family (well, by family I mostly just mean my mom), who I know are worrying about me and wondering how I’m doing, but I also think it’ll be pretty cathartic for me to get this out, since I really won’t let anyone talk to me about it. Writing is a great process for me in figuring my thoughts out, so I guess I’m treating this like a journal entry, only anyone can read it. It’s an experiment for sure, as you may read this and be like whaaa, I had to read about her &lt;em&gt;feelings&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how am I feeling? Hard to say. Knowing what is best for you when knowing it's not what you want is a really strange feeling. I know I've said this a lot the last few weeks, but it really is true. I think this is the first time in recent memory that I'm experiencing this so profoundly. Sure, I've had difficult decisions before, and painful transitions, but rarely have I felt so fundamentally opposed to what I know is the best course of action for myself. It's very surreal to be looking forward to something you know will cause you great pain but will ultimately make everything better. It's trippy, for sure. In my case, having to move back home to regroup and get financially stable in light of the current state of the economy, leaving the life it took me two years to build here. Sure, I knew I'd end up back in California eventually. It's my home. It's my family. It’s wide-laned boulevards and In n’ Out. I never wanted to stay in Massachusetts permanently. But I expected it to happen on my terms. To be unceremoniously forced out of this independent life I've created for myself, all because of things beyond my control, is quite a shock to the system. The bottom line is, I’m not ready to leave. I’m not ready to say goodbye to my friends, or to my kitty I just got, or to public transportation, which I enjoy such a love/hate relationship with. So there’s a great deal of pain I feel at having to move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this isn’t an either/or. Not wanting to leave doesn’t mean I’m not excited too. Make sense? Not really. Again, it’s surreal. How can I not be excited for 18 months of free rent? Or finally getting to know my nearly 1-year old niece, who I’ve only seen three times? Or not having to wear rain boots to work in July? There are so many things I am looking forward to with being back. Obviously number one being my family. It’s these pros and cons that make things so confusing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only do I have tangible things to worry about with leaving, like officially giving my cat to Stephanie and wondering if my car will make it 3600 miles, I also, because I’m me, worry about the symbolic nature of my move. My biggest fear with moving back home is that I will feel like I am going backwards. Some people won’t get this. They think it’s over-complicating things. And it very well could be. But for anyone who has an adventurous spirit, who for some reason is always looking at that next great passion or adventure, they understand this fear. They understand the fear of coming back to the place you started, not having quite achieved what you were looking for. Moving back is a very humbling experience for me, never more so than today when I’m planning on submitting my application to Target. No, I don’t consider myself a failure. I understand enough of basic economics to know that this is not my fault. But knowing this doesn’t change the outcome. It doesn’t erase the dent in your pride you feel at spending years and countless dollars on degrees you can’t quite use yet. It doesn’t ease the pain of having to leave behind best friends, pets, and even your furniture at a time when you’re most content with where you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To combat this fear of going backwards, I’m determined to take certain steps to prevent it. One of them is choosing not to live with my parents and instead live with my aunt, who has graciously offered her spare room to me. I think this is a crucial step in helping me continue to feel somewhat independent and will go a long way in ensuring I don’t get stuck in some kind of depressed rut. I’m also determined to jump right in in finding a new church and filling my life up with activities. We all know that’s not my strong area. I get very comfortable and lazy, and I know the key to moving forward is to fight against my tendency for complacency. Lastly, and this will be the hardest for me, I’m determined to learn how to talk on the phone. I’m horrible at keeping in touch, and the main reason is because I hate talking on the phone. I’ve never been good at it, and I’ve certainly never enjoyed it. It has nothing to do with the people I’m trying to keep in touch with, and everything to do with the above mentioned inarticulation. I’m not good at talking, and I’m especially bad at it when I can’t see the person. I’m hard of hearing already – take away your lips and facial movements, add static, and I’m a lost cause. But my mid-year resolution is to get better at it, so that I can keep in touch with people and still feel connected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that’s kind of how I’m feeling. Sad and scared but excited and optimistic. I know this is what’s best for me, and I know things will work out. I’m not so dramatic that I think this is the end of the world. But the pain is real, and I know the sadness will get worse before it gets better. It’s just a process I am going through, and I’m taking one day at a time in trying to recognize what comes next and who I’m going to be, because although it’s painful to leave, I also know I need to treat it as an opportunity for a new beginning. That’s what it is, and I’m excited to figure out what the next chapter of my life will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last few weeks, I’ve been creating a list of all the things I love about California, so that it can help me stay positive and excited to move back. To end this on a positive note, here is an excerpt from that list!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I'm looking forward to in California:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Normal speech. I learned early on that the accent here is only endearing for a little while, and then it’s just annoying.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Four seasons. Here, it seems all we get is two. They are called Rain and Snow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A city-issued garbage bin and an automatic claw on garbage trucks. I will not miss you, Public Works of Malden.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In n’ Out, Debbie Wong’s, Mongolian grill, real pizza, Best Foods, Crystal milk, and every other food I did not know would be different until I moved here.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Freeway on ramps and off ramps. Peace rotaries, I hope you and the gas station 4 miles from the highway can one day be happy together.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Peaceful sleep. Two years in the city (and one 20 feet from the train) never conditioned me to be able to endure noise during the night.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wine country. Sigh&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being able to leave the gas pump in your car and walk away.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My blonde hair returning (hopefully)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Left turn lanes, street signs, bike lanes, four-way stops, wide lanes, gridded streets, and every other feature that makes California an efficient place to drive.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-7456786597873138252?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/7456786597873138252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/08/art-of-inarticulation.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/7456786597873138252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/7456786597873138252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/08/art-of-inarticulation.html' title='The Art of Inarticulation'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-5034047230012925517</id><published>2009-08-07T12:31:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:49:29.853-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chitter Chatter'/><title type='text'>Go Milk a Cow or Something</title><content type='html'>I may be apathetic about many things, but when it comes to politics and world events, there is one person who is even more apathetic than me. Steph hates politics. No, she’s not shallow or careless. She just doesn’t understand how it gets to people so much. She hates debating about politics and social issues so much, she’s actually pretended not to know what was going on about something, even when I knew she knew, just so she wouldn’t have to argue about it. I mean, she’d rather look dumb than get political. That’s saying something. So imagine my surprise several months ago when I engaged in this chat conversation with her (time stamps and minor sidebars have been deleted, but this is our original conversation):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie: hahahahahah from nebraska? which by the way!!!! WHO LEAVES THEIR TEENAGER AT A HOSPTIAL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: huh?? I take it this is some news story?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie: yes i am soooo mad about it too&lt;br /&gt;there is a law in Nebraska&lt;br /&gt;that allows you to abandon your child with no consequences at a hospital&lt;br /&gt;it was meant for newborns&lt;br /&gt;but like 12 kids have been abandoned like 11-17yr olds&lt;br /&gt;ummmmmm&lt;br /&gt;if you have a kid you take care of that kid and if you are the type of person who abandons your child you should just go to jail because that is so wrong on so many levels&lt;br /&gt;grrrrr go milk a cow or something&lt;br /&gt;stupid nebraska&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: feel better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie: ha no im still pissed people are so lame&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: haha yes they are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie: it is rare that something fires me up like this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: haha true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie: oh!&lt;br /&gt;so this morning on the train i swear i saw a real leprechaun&lt;br /&gt;this man was so little&lt;br /&gt;and he had a green hat on&lt;br /&gt;and his ears were in it obviously hiding them&lt;br /&gt;this wasnt halloween time either&lt;br /&gt;100% real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: hahaha the things you come up with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie: i was chuckling to myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I included the last part not only to show you how quickly she came down from her rant, but also to provide a rare glimpse into the world of being Steph’s best friend. Yes, she is this crazy, and yes, I am that amazing for never having committed her).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why am I telling you this and parading Steph’s rant on my blog? Because recently I had a similar experience. I’m not political either, and this particular rant wasn’t even about politics. But I got really fired up over something seemingly random, and it made me think about the nature of pet peeves and what gets people hot. It can be something really minor, like a mini rant on the stupidity of Massachusetts drivers, or something more major, like being offended at the thought of someone abandoning their kid. But we all have them. And I’m not just talking about when people chew with their mouth open, or the tapping of a pen. I’m talking about the random ones, like how I can’t stand people who barrel up escalators after getting off the T. All I want to do is stop them and say chill, you’re really not that important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this is your first time having an official assignment as a reader of my blog. What’s your pet peeve? What’s that one thing that may not be too rational, but for some reason drives you nuts? Tell me in the comments and maybe after your rant is done, we can all hold hands and reassure each other it’ll be alright.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-5034047230012925517?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/5034047230012925517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/08/go-milk-cow-or-something.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/5034047230012925517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/5034047230012925517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/08/go-milk-cow-or-something.html' title='Go Milk a Cow or Something'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-307097099974568340</id><published>2009-07-23T20:41:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:49:56.191-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Massachusetts Welcomes You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bat12wZZe58/SmkDWd2tpeI/AAAAAAAAACc/n6SrXdsFW2U/s1600-h/Jeremy%27s+Summer+Visit!+043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bat12wZZe58/SmkDWd2tpeI/AAAAAAAAACc/n6SrXdsFW2U/s320/Jeremy%27s+Summer+Visit!+043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361820515867403746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This weekend my nephew Jeremy came to visit me.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He comes every summer (this was his third visit and his second by himself) and we spend a week punching each other, eating too much sugar, and arguing about personal space.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I always know we are going to have a grand time, and this visit was no different.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Instead of calling each of my family members to share about our fabulous week, I thought for posterity’s sake I’d share here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The first two days he was here were very hectic.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Hectic in that Jeremy had to sit a lot.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He flew in Friday night and immediately from the airport – after a 5 hour nonstop flight from San Francisco – I made him sit through the 2 hr 33 min Harry Potter film.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He never even peed.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We all enjoyed it, although I may dedicate my next post exclusively to how they raped and pillaged the ending.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But we’ll see if I still care after giving it a couple weeks to let it sink in.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Anyhoo, back to Jeremy sitting.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;First thing Saturday morning I forced him out of bed at 8:30 so he could sit in a car for an hour and a half as we went to Jen’s parent’s house on Lake Winnipesaukee.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;She had invited us and Steph up to enjoy the marvelous day and barbecue some animals.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Despite all of this travel and sitting still, Jeremy was wonderfully flexible, and we had an awesome time at the lake with Jen and her family.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Not only did he get to play chess, cards, and swim with other kids, we also went sailing.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was really neat.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sunday, I let Jeremy catch up on his sleep and then he, Steph, and I packed a picnic lunch and headed to the pond, where we each proceeded to catch a fish! I’m still kicking myself that I forgot my camera for this part of the trip, but all three of us caught one.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then we went to church.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Jeremy, having never been to one that uses instruments, looked skeptical.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As worship started, Jeremy turned to Steph and muttered, “A red guitar? Seriously?”&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But then he realized church is church, and was sufficiently bored enough to realign the cosmos back to normal.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After church, we joined a few friends for dinner at Chili’s, where Jeremy met the current love of his life Rachel, 25.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He dazzled her pretty good, except he may have ruined his chances when he had to abandon a story mid-sentence because he had to pee.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He was also pretty high on Sprite and French fries.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But oh well, plenty of fish, etc etc.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were spent doing various activities around Massachusetts and Boston.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We went miniature golfing, comic book shopping, candle pin bowling, and whiffle ball playing.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He also went on a date with Steph while I went into work for a bit (shh, don’t tell Rachel he was two-timing). First they went to the Museum of Science and then he treated her to ice cream around the corner from our house.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;From my post-date report, it went very well and Stephanie was properly wooed.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I was proud.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Another highlight of this week was our Create Your Own Pizza/Cookie-Baking Extravaganza night.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;On Monday, we enjoyed a fantastic night baking things and watching Home Alone.&lt;span&gt;  Speaking of Home Alone, Jeremy got a crash course in 80/90’s kid’s movies this week.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We watched Goonies, Home Alone, and Hook, and he was finally shown how a movie for children should be done. They really don’t make them like they used to, and he enjoyed every one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Another point worth mentioning is how much Jeremy liked our cat, Jasper Wallace Boob Steven.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I think Jasper may have been Jeremy’s favorite part of his trip.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Overall, our visit together was bunches of fun.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not only did we have a blast hanging out, Jeremy provided a steady stream of amusement with the superbly random things that came out of his mouth.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;If I didn’t have witnesses for these quotes, I wouldn’t believe them myself.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But alas, he said every one.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I leave you with my favorite quotes and isms from this week:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;“Do you know about yin and yang?&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It’s about how there are good things and bad things. Like the sun.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It gives us light, but it also gives us sunburn. You’ve got your yinny, and your yangy.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Listening to mariachi music in a Mexican restaurant: “I don’t understand these words, but this feels good.”&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;Looking at pictures of himself on my computer: “Life is great when you are young. But I’m not young anymore, so it is good to look back on it and smile.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;Waking up after falling asleep during a TV show and trying to answer a question I asked:&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;“I don’t know, I just woke up. Well, I wasn’t asleep. I was just hypnotized by the show.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;“I like comic books, because it’s like TV in my mind.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;Me saying thank you to Rachel by yelling “hugs and kisses” and Jeremy in the backseat very quietly whispering, “Me too.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;Out of nowhere and completely unprompted: “You know, I think I’m starting to like that Hannah Montana show.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;** Note: I couldn't quite figure out how to include pictures that were spread out throughout the whole post.  I tried including them clumped together, but that looked stupid.  I'll be posting a few either to Facebook or here very soon!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-307097099974568340?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/307097099974568340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/07/massachusetts-welcomes-you.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/307097099974568340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/307097099974568340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/07/massachusetts-welcomes-you.html' title='Massachusetts Welcomes You'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bat12wZZe58/SmkDWd2tpeI/AAAAAAAAACc/n6SrXdsFW2U/s72-c/Jeremy%27s+Summer+Visit!+043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-3138169505325225795</id><published>2009-07-16T09:15:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:48:21.081-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Philosophicalization'/><title type='text'>Great Expectations</title><content type='html'>When I first started this blog, I was bursting with ideas and warned myself I may have to ration my posts so I don’t overload everyone.  Well, here it is 3 weeks after my last post, and it’s clear I won’t have that problem. But at last, here I am again to unleash my thoughts about things I really don’t care about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For several years now, my friend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt; and I have had an unofficial mental list of a certain kind of movie.  This type of movie is the one that you love to watch, even consider it among your favorites – but don’t own.  And not only do you not own it, you have no future intention of owning it.  Why would you do this? Because it’s too &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;stinkin&lt;/span&gt; fun to discover it on TBS on a lazy Saturday morning or afternoon.  You know what I’m talking about, even if you’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; never really thought about it.  For me, it’s A League of Their Own.  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt; love this movie.  When it’s on TV, I get sucked in instantly.  And no matter how many times I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; seen it, I will watch it to the end, and probably shed a tear or two.  So why don’t I own it?  Why would I deprive myself the opportunity to watch a movie I love so much anytime I want to?  Because it makes that moment when I unexpectedly find it playing on TV that more special. I enjoy it more because it’s a treat.  It’s unexpected, and it’s probably been a while since I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; watched it.  If I owned it, and knew I could watch it anytime I wanted, I probably &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wouldn&lt;/span&gt;’t. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking about this list and thinking about what it is that makes not owning my favorite movies so much better made me realize this can happen with a lot of different things in life.  It’s kind of part of our human nature that once we have acquired what we desire or have easy access to it, we pretty much cease wanting it.  This can be in trivial things, like how I only crave soda when I’m at home without it but never get it when I’m at work near a soda machine or at a restaurant, or it can even be serious things, like a job you wanted more than anything then find out you hate, a new city you thought would be magical but really is the same place you left just with more annoying people, or even a relationship you fought hard to chase then realized you were bored with it.  It can happen with anything, anytime.  What’s our deal? Why can the idea of something, the promise or the chase of it, be so much more appealing than the reality of it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sidebar: When I was cooking up the idea to start blogging, I promised myself I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;wouldn&lt;/span&gt;’t blog about anything too serious or too important.  Thankfully, I only promised myself and not you, so tough luck, settle in, and don’t interrupt.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I think it has to do with expectations and that old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;clichéd&lt;/span&gt; standby “the grass is always greener on the other side.” Yeah, it’s a tired saying, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;clichés&lt;/span&gt; don’t become &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;clichés&lt;/span&gt; without having truth to them, and I think we humans truly do believe that whatever is coming next has to be better than where we’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; been.  And I think this mentality is, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;dichotomously&lt;/span&gt;, both an awesome manifestation of the hope we have in our future, and a dangerous habit we have of never being satisfied with what we have or where we’re at.  For me, it’s that feeling that I quite haven’t found my “calling” yet.  I’m continually searching for that moment where things click and I’m doing what I love.  It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;hasn&lt;/span&gt;’t happened yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I can see this play out in the various moves and decisions I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; made in the last several years.  When I decided to transfer schools after my sophomore year of college, I just knew LA was going to be great and different. I got there, gloried in the beach for a while, then grew tired of its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;fakeness&lt;/span&gt; and traffic.  After graduation, I knew coming home to Sacramento would be great financially and I’d get to help raise my new baby niece, then eventually grew bored and felt stifled.  Moving to Boston and starting grad school was a terrifyingly exciting time in my life, and I cannot describe to you my fascination with Boston and the east coast. But alas, Massachusetts culture never quite warmed itself to me (it also never wanted to give me a decent job).  So what is with me?  Am I just genuinely unsatisfied at wherever I am? I don’t think that’s it.  I’m a genuinely happy person, and was raised with the belief that really it’s all good – no worry is bigger than what you make it.  So it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t unhappiness. It’s more of what I make of my expectations. It’s how I set myself up, thinking the next thing will be what I’m finally looking for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also think it has to do with the trends of my generation.  Specifically the white, upper-middle class mid-20’s generation that I pretend I’m embarrassed to be a part of but am actually secretly quite thankful I was born into.  My generation was taught to never settle.  We’re one of the first to have the college degree ratio be in the win column, and along with our fancy college degrees we have a generous sense of entitlement that we carry around with us.  We’re supposed to get jobs that make our degrees worthwhile.  Oh, and these jobs are also supposed to be filled with passion, meaning, and an A-grade paycheck.   We’re expected to travel extensively, volunteer occasionally, and find philosophical meaning in the television shows we watch.  In other words, by now, life is supposed to be pretty good for us.  The problem is that what we have been taught to expect, with all these resources at our fingertips, does not always align with the realities of life.  We don't all land our dream job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I partly blame this on the practice of having to choose a major in college, like somehow choosing a specific subject will produce passion and a career path toward self-fulfillment and money. Statistics show that the majority of college graduates, regardless of generation, do not end up working in their chosen field, and the average person changes “careers” 8 times in their life. So instead of my productive, non-profit career I was told to expect with my snazzy psychology degree, I’m at a research firm.  I also partly blame Barack Obama. If it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t for him, I’d be content with working my 9-5 sentence looking at numbers all day.  He had to go and make me actually believe that my generation could help change the world, and now anything less would be a disappointment.  So annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ranting aside, I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; realized that my entire mentality about what to expect out of life is born out of this idea that I’m meant for something great.  And on one hand, this is a spectacular hope to have.  Because I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; meant for something great. But on the other hand, I (and my generation) need to realize that sometimes not having that perfect job is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  I need to stop looking ahead at all the grand things I will do and find the passion and meaning in my life right now.  I need to stop thinking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;futuristically&lt;/span&gt;.  I need to quit expecting something great to happen, and just let things come. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This realization is especially fitting now that I will be moving.  As the majority of my 8 readers of this blog know, I am moving back home to Sacramento.  What a perfect time for me to start cooking up ideas in my head about what’s going to happen and how things are going to play out, right? But this time, no expectations. No grand ideas.  I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; realized I need to handle my own life expectations like how I handle my TBS movies – let the surprise come.  Don’t go rush out and buy A League of Their Own and then grow bored with it.  Let it come to you, and relish in the treat of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, also on my list of movies I’ll never own is A Time to Kill, Top Gun, and practically any Drew Barrymore film.  I also have songs, but that may have to be another blog altogether.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-3138169505325225795?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/3138169505325225795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/07/great-expectations.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/3138169505325225795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/3138169505325225795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/07/great-expectations.html' title='Great Expectations'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-2102847579813514862</id><published>2009-06-23T13:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:49:29.853-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chitter Chatter'/><title type='text'>Why I Love NPR</title><content type='html'>I don’t listen to the radio. Most people know this. I’m not a snob, I swear. I like pop music just as much as the next person. Well, my definition of pop and you’re definition of pop may be somewhat different, so yeah, I may be a snob in that regard. But really, I just hate DJ’s. And commercials. And stupid contests that make you listen to the same station for three hours straight without a bathroom break trying to win a t-shirt.  I’m sure it’s partly age. But really I suspect it’s more to do with the state of mainstream radio than me being a curmudgeon. At least that’s what I tell myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered NPR about five years ago. I had just moved to LA and was horrified to discover there were no radio stations similar to those in Sac and Reno.  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;’t find a single station that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t hip hop, gold country, or Ryan &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Seacrest&lt;/span&gt; – and all three should be handled with care and dealt with in small doses.  Technology &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;hadn&lt;/span&gt;’t yet discovered the awesomeness that is the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;iPod&lt;/span&gt; radio transmitter (actually, I’m sure it had, but my wallet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hadn&lt;/span&gt;’t discovered it yet, let’s put it that way), so it was mariachi music or NPR. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had always been afraid of NPR. For one, I grew up in a conservative town with a conservative family and whether intentional or not, I learned to equate NPR with Everything That Is Wrong With This Country and the real kicker, BEWARE OF NPR YOU MAY BECOME A FLAMING LIBERAL.  Secondly, I had always hated talk radio.  As a kid, I spent a lot of time with my dad going with him on garage door jobs. Rush Limbaugh and Paul Harvey were my babysitters in the truck (I know, explains a lot right?).  So I pretty much loathed talk radio.  On Sundays our only argument as a family was whether to listen to the country music countdown or the football game in the car on the way to church. I think I came out of those battles an even 50-50. But being desperate during long commutes in the notorious LA traffic, I gave NPR a listen, and I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; been hooked ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NPR, and its various affiliates, is so refreshing. No filler. No spin. Sometimes I seriously suspect whether their journalists even went to journalism school, they are that unpolished. It’s fantastic. I love that at the end of a piece, when they say their name and then “NPR News”, they put a little hitch in it. I love that Terry Gross’ voice sounds like she’s trying really hard to speak at an audible decibel.  I love that Ira Glass’ voice sounds like he got sucker punched and had to talk through his nose.  And I love that someone named Ira Glass could have a career in media.  These are my people. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I love most about NPR is how they can make any topic sound interesting.  When the circus of the election coverage was happening last fall, I escaped to NPR.  I detest politics, but it was presented in a way that showed me why I should care about that election, and what it meant for me and my generation. I heart Anderson Cooper, but no one could top the folks at All Things Considered and their incredibly insightful coverage of what was happening.  NPR also exposes me to a range of subjects and events that I would otherwise never hear about, especially in the fields of science and technology.  For example I recently listened to a fascinating piece about killer plants.  No joke.*  I also get a lot of my music, books, and show recommendations from All Songs Considered and Fresh Air.  In fact I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; just recently discovered a love for Danish folk.  Who knew?  And the kicker is, they do in fact play music. Granted it’s usually smooth jazz or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;merengue&lt;/span&gt; on the weekends, but still, that has to be better than “Kiss Me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Thru&lt;/span&gt; the Phone,” no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing NPR &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t too popular and can be an acquired taste, I sometimes feel like I’m in on a big secret that few else know about. Yes, in my world listening to NPR makes me cool. Shush. Actually really, what listening to NPR does is make me feel smart.  Since my brain is turning to mush post-graduation, this can only be a good thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encourage those who’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; never listened to NPR to give it a try.  You may be surprised at how refreshing it is to get your news by someone who is underpaid and a lot smarter than you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and don’t worry Dad, I haven’t become a flaming liberal. Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*For anyone who actually cares, the piece was about a new book called "Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-2102847579813514862?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/2102847579813514862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-i-love-npr.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/2102847579813514862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/2102847579813514862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-i-love-npr.html' title='Why I Love NPR'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-8253583174354482972</id><published>2009-06-18T11:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:48:21.082-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Philosophicalization'/><title type='text'>The Great Birthday Experiment of 09</title><content type='html'>I’ve never cared about my birthday. It’s true. While my fellow 7-year olds were praying the night before that every single member of their 2nd grade class would show up to their party at Chuck E Cheese (except for Smelly-Sock Sammy), I was praying I'd score a goal at the soccer camp I was probably attending.  While my 16-year old peers hounded their dads for a sweet sixteen birthday bash, I think I may have been in San Diego chilling at a hotel waiting for my mom to finish with her business trip.  And that excited me. Fact is, my birthday, for better or worse, has never held much excitement for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apathy regarding my birthday and the genuine awkwardness I feel at celebrating it all comes from a hodgepodge of reasons.  For one, I was a weird kid.  I have no embarrassment in admitting this.  I just was.  I was raised by books and external social interaction just didn’t hold much appeal for me.  But I mean, I had friends, I swear. I was just much more unaffected by everything than a normal kid, and usually perfectly content hanging with my family.  A birthday party would have involved two things I was very bad at: pretending to care about the kids in my class, and receiving attention.  Which is another reason I’ve never liked my birthday: I hate attention.  Anything that is about me makes me almost break out in hives.  Ask my parents – they’ll tell ya.  I’m just inherently uncomfortable with social gatherings that are in my honor.  I feel silly and awkward.  I don’t even know how people are going to read this, because I cringe at having to announce I’ve written a new post. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, my birthday is in the summer. Just in case you were under the impression that having a summer birthday is awesomer, think again. It’s not. Unless you were the uber popular kid all through school, summer is the place of exiled birthdays.  You never got a cake in class. Never got to carry around balloons all day. Nothing.  Most likely, by the time your birthday came around in the summer, most folks were long gone, not even in a 50-mile radius to at least mail you something.  I made up for this by never being around myself. Brilliant right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I’m a product of my parents. More specifically, my dad. This is the guy who would be the sole vote in a legislative ballot to remove Christmas as a national holiday.  The guy just doesn’t do holidays – even the one that celebrates his own birth – and only tolerates Thanksgiving because it’s the one day out of the year he’s allowed – nay, obligated – to be thankful for football. As a family we’ve all kind of adopted this indifference to birthdays, and have moseyed along that way for a long time.  Recently, with the addition of several children (and I’d like to think a little sentimentality at getting older), my parents have gotten better at celebrating holidays and birthdays. In fact, I even got to celebrate my 21st birthday with a wine-tasting trip, right about when I was turning 23. Fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this is to say, there are reasons for my lack of birthday spirit. But, if the Great Tomato Experiment of 07 has taught us anything, it’s that I love to teach myself to like things.*  And what is more noble an effort than trying to care about being born?  So this year, I’m making a real effort to get into the spirit of my birthday.  I've even planned my own birthday party. I know huh.  I figure 25 is kinda a big deal, and if nothing else, I can celebrate how old this makes my parents.  That’s reason enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Except for bananas. It's never going to happen, so don't ask. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-8253583174354482972?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/8253583174354482972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/06/great-birthday-experiment-of-09.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/8253583174354482972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/8253583174354482972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/06/great-birthday-experiment-of-09.html' title='The Great Birthday Experiment of 09'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695334400098397231.post-4068006428874017039</id><published>2009-06-16T17:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:50:30.452-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Epic'/><title type='text'>My Very First Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So I’m blogging. I didn’t think I ever would, because I’m not that interesting and have very little to say. However, I’ve recently acquired a lot of time on my hands, and my current hobbies are getting kind of boring.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, actually, it’s not that they are necessarily boring, they’ve just kind of run their course. Fishing has been demoted because I’m horrible at it and won’t take the time to get better (note the title of my blog), and Disney puzzles are waning until I find room in my house to hang more of them. I don’t know if re-listening to Harry Potter audiobooks counts as a hobby, but either way, I think I should give that a rest as well. Did I mention I’m not that interesting?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So what will this blog be about?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m not so naive that I think people will read it just because they are my friends and family.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Loyalty can only go so far. And I’m not so pretentious that I think people will read it because I genuinely have anything important to say.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So no worries.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Lacking loyalty and skill, I have very little reason to post and place my thoughts through the microscopic lens that is the Internet. But here I go regardless.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you haven’t caught on already, I’m pretty self-deprecating – and lucky for you (or unlucky?), I don’t shame easily. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But I digress (something that &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;does&lt;/i&gt; come easily).&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What I’m hoping this blog will be about is really nothing at all.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There is no clever theme.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No hook. No shtick. Well, unless you count my bit about being uninteresting and self-deprecating. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I guess that’s a shtick. For reals though, what I hope to accomplish with this blog is to take some time off my hands and unload some thoughts – thoughts that are most often very random and even somewhat strange. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Usually, my random thoughts include tangents and rants, and end with “but really, actually, I don’t much care” (have I pointed out the name of my blog yet?). So get ready for those. I may discuss books I’ve just read or shows I’m currently watching, or add my two cents (or ten) about the state of pop culture. I may share something that’s happened to me recently, or even write a short story that you can critique. I may, wait for it, even post a picture or two.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You never know. Wild.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In all for seriousness, this blog is a new hobby. One I’m not sure I’ll be good at and may not even enjoy. But as you’ve just heard about my fishing and puzzle activities, we all agree I need a new one right? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1695334400098397231-4068006428874017039?l=curseofapathy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/feeds/4068006428874017039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-very-first-post_5096.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/4068006428874017039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1695334400098397231/posts/default/4068006428874017039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curseofapathy.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-very-first-post_5096.html' title='My Very First Post'/><author><name>Ka-Ryn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
