This was written while drinking wine and ignoring The World Series… 

I am currently in a course titled “Leadership Stories: Literature, Ethics, and Authority” and this week we’ve discussed social media at length. Specifically, how the digital age has evolved story telling. A clear theme from the class discussion was one’s ability to curate their life and to manage the way they are perceived. Some shared that they tend to only share positive things; one student referenced an ESPN article she had recently read about a girl who committed suicide even though her Instagram profile reflected something else. This caused me to reflect on the image I put forward of myself both through social media and this blog.

In many ways, I try to share both my highs and lows. The purpose of this blog is to connect with others online. Sure, a majority of my readers are family and friends, but there are also a lot of people who just stumble upon it. I want to show how someone who suffers from depression and who had a difficult childhood can still achieve and take matters into her own hands.

At the same time, not all the stories in my life are my own to tell. Which is sometimes why I sorta drop from the site. I don’t always know how to share my own internal struggles while upholding the privacy of others.

Personally, I’ve said and done literally tons of stupid things and I never try to appear perfect (except when I’m trying to convinced Joe I am perfect, but that is a little different). I can fully imagine a future-world in which I question my decision to be so public about my thoughts and feelings. However, writing and sharing my feelings has allowed me to grow in ways I may never fully understand. Which is why I don’t think it will ever be something I regret.

At the same time, I can be very lucky. I also believe I make my own luck. I hope there are things about me that make people think “wow, I can look up to her AND I can see parts of myself in her” and “oh! maybe I can go to MIT/apply for this job/put myself out there too!” I believe inspiration is most powerful when you are able to see yourself in another’s shoes and that’s pretty much all I want. I want others to know they can.


Joe- notice the apostrophe in the title? [Joe and I form that really annoyingly cute couple that makes people want to puke (including ourselves surprisingly). As a part of our hi-larity, we often talk about how we hope that after each adorable thing we say to each other, a child throws up somewhere. We should probably have our own sitcom really.]

Anyway, today is such an awesome day. It started out with super awesome Friday morning Firefly viewing at 6am. Can’t think of a better way to start a day. Work went really well too- most of my meetings got canceled and so I had lots of coffee and was bouncing off the walls. I tried to call grandma, but she didn’t answer. Probably at a funeral or something.

At one point, around like, 2pm I think, I was jumping around my cube probably like a maniac because I ended up spilling my coffee over everything. See, the interesting fact here is that I only really had one cup of coffee, and apparently I didn’t even drink much of it because a lot sure managed to spill everywhere. Cubie told me to settle the fuck down, so I realize I should take a chill pill. And I did.

I went to Macy’s to try and buy Joe a jacket, not because I’m a nice girlfriend or anything, but because I hate all of his winter jackets so badly that I don’t want to be seen in public with him until he gets a new one. They didn’t have the one I liked in a size small though, which is crazy because it was the nicest jacket ever, and it would have looked beautiful on him. I asked the lady to print out the places where they have them in stock and the closest was Chicago. Considering that a trip to Chicago this weekend would necessitate a coat, I am shit out of luck (on the coat front).

A little update on my car selling ordeal. So, Sam was going to drive down with his father-in-law on Wednesday morning to pick up the car. However, I have my moments and totally forgot to look for the title. Therefore, Tuesday night when I did finally try to find it, I was unable to locate it. I had to call Sandra (my mother for those of you who don’t know), which was okay only because I had been drinking at the bar beforehand. She was talking to me as she looked for it. “I don’t know why I would have that Katie… you need to keep better track- oh, I found one for a ’98 Camry… oh, and it has your name on it! I found it!” Der. Okay, so she put it in the mail on Tuesday night, assuming it went out Wednesday (from Fargo, ND), it still isn’t here yet! Wtf. So, now I’m getting harassed from Sam being all like “wtf, my woman wants that car, when can I come get it?!” and my insides are all like “wtf, I want that money.”

Joe is still going home to get his car after work though. We are both under the impression that it would be the wisest to not use the car at all- I need that money and it would suck for it to die before I get to sell it. In line with my karmic views, I kind of feel bad about selling Sam a mostly crappy car, but the truth is, that thing is still really nice. It probably has another 100,000 miles in it (with a little bit of work), and the system alone is worth 2k. I was still feeling bad about selling her though- she has been with me for over 7 years! I thought she might purposefully shit out on me because she would be too scared to go to Sam (fair assessment really), but Joe pointed out that I’ve been so good to her, that she will hold in there and wait to shit out on Sam, almost as revenge for all the damage he had done to her previously. Made me laugh. But, hopefully I can get rid of that thing tomorrow or sometime soon.

I read an article today about finances when marrying on this blog. Found it interesting. It made me think, evaluate my own habits with money. I’m pretty sure I’m good on that front, seeing as I have very little debt. I only have debt though because I like nice things anyway, it isn’t like I was frivolous and took out student loans or something. I should be all done paying crap off by May though. Then I can resume stock piling for my mansion or awesome Hawaii trip. Either would do.

I’m not sure how many of you follow baseball, but last night was game 6 of the world series. Joe and I made our way to Rock Bottom right after work, because last week when we attempted to watch the game on Thursday night, every place we went was packed. So, we staked out our place at the bar early and began the long night of drinking and baseball.

I don’t love baseball. I really only watch it because it makes Joe happy, but that’s fine, I still enjoy the “drinking at the bar” atmosphere. Well, 5 hours later it is 10pm and we are only in the bottom of the 7th. The Rangers were up 7-4 (I think), and I was fading fast. I asked Joe if I could go to bed, and he said that because he was so sure that the Rangers were going to win, that he would come with me. So we went to bed last night, right at the beginning of the 8th inning.

Obviously I feel terrible about this and am concocting ways to make it up to him. I began telling cubie this story early today, by started out with “so Joe and I were watching the game last night” and he interrupted me to say “OMG, wasn’t that the most exciting/amazing game almost ever? Holy crap!!” Right, so, I need to make this up to him. I can’t tell you how though, because then he would know and that would ruin the surprise.

Now I’m back at Rock Bottom, writing my blog. I heard “Thompson” uttered at the bar, which quickly caught my attention. Obviously I only assume it must be my one and only true love, Brian Thompson. Thompson is a gay man in his 40’s, but I’ve always had a thing for him. He’s incredibly smart, funny, AND good-looking, but I haven’t seen him for years.  I’ve been trying to meet up with him for the last year probably, now that I work and live downtown. However, our lives are busy so I live vicariously through his Facebook check ins. I know he uses the same gym as I do (why this isn’t motivation enough for me to go I’ll never know), and sometimes he goes to the bar I am currently sitting at (no correlation of course). I still have a shirtless picture of him in my apartment, so now I’m being a super creeper looking over my shoulder every time someone walks in hoping it’s him. It never is.