Summer Summary

I will walk beside you, carry on

I constructed a long list of things I would like to do to improve myself (brush my teeth more often is at the top of the list), but I think shoveling a plate of home made nachos into my mouth at an astonishing rate isn't quite what I had in mind when I added "eat all my meals at home 6 days a week" to my list.

So, history has shown and the current times prove that I categorically suck at blogging. The last time we met was about a month ago where I was freaking out about the future.

Things I've Done Since Then
-Went to Hawaii
-Used chopsticks more times in one week than all previous chopstick use in my life
-Held keys for Friday's
-Found I couldn't be mean to a douche bag customer from Olive Garden
-Acted like I knew stuff at the NCC Summer Speech Workshop
-Applied to Liberty Mutual Group to be an insurance underwriter
-Accepted a part-time coaching position at NCC
-Watched 2 seasons of The West Wing
-Read more Kurt Vonnegut

Any or all of those are topics for another day. The main reason I don't blog so much is that I lack inspiration, and today? The inspiration is lacking. My apologies.

Later, baby,
Cathi

Well State'd

It turned my whole world around, and I kinda like it

You know a team is a bit jaded when their "inspirational song" is the Dixie Chicks' "Not Ready To Make Nice".

Right now my life consists of a series of countdowns, and the latest event to get checked off the list was the Illinois Intercollegiate Forensics Association's State Tournament. It was one of those events that ultimately weighed in on the emotional-experience continuum at "bittersweet". I'm going to blame it on that Suburban-Equilibrium I've discussed in the past. When something amazing happens, something else needs to balance it out to make sure life don't get too too.

The person responsible for typing these words to you today is the 2008 IIFA State Champion in Parliamentary Debate, an honor I share with my esteemed debate partner, SB. We were hardly expecting to do quite so well, and I feel like my mental process whilst standing up on the stage during the awards ceremony should be documented.

One thing you have to understand is that at forensics competitions, when announcing awards, it always sounds like this: "In Whatever Place, from Some School, So and So!". You also have to understand that the team SB and I were up against were from Northwestern University.

So there we were, standing up on stage, a little dumbfounded in the first place that we managed to get there.

This is insane, this is crazy. The presenter is talking. Listen....Listen...
"In 2nd place, from North..."
Shoot. Well it figures, this was only our 4th tournament everanyway.
"....western University..."
...that's not North Central. What's happening? The boys from the other team are shaking Judy's hand. Why does the rest of my team out in the audience look so happy? Sarah's looking at me. I'm confused.
"And your 2008 IIFA State Champions in Parliamentary Debate are from North Central College..."
That's me! That's us! Sarah's still looking at me. Um what do I do? Hug Sarah. Smile. Remember to smile. Don't throw up. Walk. Keep smiling. Shake Judy's hand. Oh, get hug from Judy. Take trophy. Don't cry. Keep smiling.

It was a bit intense. The moment was bittersweet because even though SB and I kicked a bunch of ass, two of our good friends who should have been standing up there, being state champions, were not. It's a little difficult to be happy when you know that you just lived the strange, alternate universe version of what really should have taken place.

The Boy and I are in a bit of a fight, but I'm not sure if he knows it. The problem with being good at talking about stuff I don't know a scrap of information about is that the ability to talk about personal issues gets sacrificed, so for now I'll just be content to be upset with him and assume he'll figure it out eventually. I'm a girl, it's allowed.

10 Days until No More School
11 Days until Lazy Week Extravaganza
33 Days until AFA-NIET
45 Days until NFA

overwhelmed and underslept

With envy for the solid ground

Dear web log,
I will be treating you like a diary today, and actually acknolwedging that fact.
Love,
Cathi

Sometimes my friends have the annoying habit of asking me "what's new?", as if my life is a series of exciting happenstances, instead of a monotonous cycle of "school, work, speech, no sleep".

Let's see, new things... new things. I've been hired into my first "real" radio station job. If I'm not mistaken, it entails me operating the board for WJOL AM 1340 for a couple hours a week. Nothing earth shattering or major, but a resume builder.

Brian mentioned a friend of his is moving to the city soon, and he's thinking about going with 'em. I think he was anticipating some sort of big, dramatic conversation where I may or may not have cried or gotten upset, but after him foundering around for about a minute I just told him to do what he thinks is best. I'm perfectly capable of figuring out what to do with myself. Plus I have parents I can live with should the occasion arise. I'm honestly not all that worried.

I still haven't had my State of the Union conversation, partly because I'm a big chicken when it comes to discussing "feelings" and "opinions", and partly because it's not of vital importance, yet. I keep getting clues that the conversation would tell me all the good things I want to know, so it seems silly to have to drag myself through something as painful as a Real Conversation.

One Nationals down, one to go, and I'm exhausted. All I want to do is sleep all the time. Alex said he doesn't understand how I can get so tired, but I don't really see the mystery in it. You average 5 hours of sleep a night and spend your days running back and forth across town, and cumulating them by standing for 5-8 hours having to be friendly to drunk people. I had fun at AFA, probably because it was a small group and the entire thing was pretty laid back. I even did pretty okay, but if you're not a Forensicator, be prepared for a long, confusing explanation of the numbers involved.

Here is what I want: I want to be able to wake up in the morning and look forward to my day. I want to be able to feel rested and energized. I want to have one or two nights a week where I can hang out with the few friends I have. I want to be able to spend relaxing time with Alex; not this hyper-intesne we-have-to-make-the-most-of-these-5-hours. I want to be able to afford to go out and do things, like see movies, go bowling, or even take a spontaneous weekend road trip. I want to have the time and energy to keep my room clean. I want to be able to have long coffee conversations with my sister. I'm still waiting to go on a photographic alley adventure with Miranda.

I just need a break, really. Freaking speech team.

That is all. Thank you,
Cathi

AFA and blogging

Oh yeah, I'm the mother fucking Princess.

I never have anything important to say anymore, and I really wish I did, because I heard blogs are going to be the new history books. Historians get all squishy when they find diaries from past times, "glimpses into real life from the past" and such. Look at how popular Anne Frank's diary is, and she didn't even particularly write about anything earth shattering. Just "Life is really tense. Living in an attic really sucks. I hope we don't die. I love Peter".

Pardon me if that was offense. I'm just saying she was writing about the trivialities of teenage life in the context of some tense politics.

If Cathi Martin were a beverage, she would be: Milk

Ever since I heard that bit of speculation-- that blogs will be future historians glimpse of real life in the early 21st century-- I've been wondering what, exactly, my scribblings have contributed to the collective consciousness of the world. My perceptions of major world events, that is, 9/11, the war on terror, catastrophic weather occurances and climate change, have been peripheral at best.

If Cathi Martin were a character from 10 Things I Hate About You, she would be: the dad

I plan to give a speech next year about how cell phone manufacturers are contributing to the turmoil in the Congo because they're greedy bastards. Yay!

If Cathi Martin were a building on NCC's campus, she would be: the library

I'm beginning to feel the first strains of my biggest fear of the whole "Alex going to UIC" situation. Talking (almost) every day is okay, I guess, but not a very good substitute for the real thing.

If Cathi Martin were a food, she would be: a pineapple

AFA-NIET,
Thrine

stress and conversation

I don't mind you under my skin

Stress is a compound interest problem. If I could remember my math classes I'd probably be much better equipped at dealing with life's little stressors. The issue is that when one thing is keeping you on the edge of your nerves, everyday annoyances needle you to the point where someone breathing too heavily through their mouth is liable to make you lash out. It especially doesn't help when a lot of the little things are consequences of the one big thing.

For example: let's say you're dead broke. What cash flow you are bringing in has to go directly to major things like rent, bills, and gas and you don't have anything left over. This means you avoid going out with friends, which is depressing. It means a debt you owe to your roommate is suddenly postponed, which creates tension. It means you can't buy someone a birthday gift, and that you're stingy when it comes to driving places so you can conserve gas. It means when your roomie is inflexible about getting $8 your frustration with their lack of understanding is compounded much more toxically than it should be.

The good thing about stress, perhaps, is that it makes you buckle down and focus on what exactly it is you need to do to eliminate this joy-killer from your life. Lacking money? Make every second at work count. Don't spend it on silly things like Taco Bell or CDs. Sit down with the roommate and calmly discuss what it feels like to be broke and how to work around the situation. Make conversations with the boyfriend and other significant people count, since seeing them is slightly more difficult. Strengthen relationships with the parentals so you can mooch off them.

Just kidding. Sort of.

My favorite type of conversation to have is the ones where we discuss how to properly go about building a conversation. It requires not only a knowledge about interpersonal communication but also includes a sharing of ways of employing insight and tact. Hypothetical conversations are always much more significant and difficult than their real manifestations anyway. It's good brain aerobics.

Conversations in the hypothetical stage:
-The Mutal Grievences
-The State of the Union
-The Cautionary Tale

Q.E.D. bitches,
Cathi


P.S. 4th Place in being funniest in the State!

Lovely things

I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me

Let's take this from the top.

I told Robert-the-16-year-old that the reason he thinks "dating is pretty lame" is because he hadn't dated the right girl. That yeah, doing the same stupid things over and over again, like going to movies or walking around downtown Naperville does get tired and old, but that's not the point of dating. It shouldn't really matterwhat exactly you're doing, just the fact that you're doing it together. Talking to that person should be the high point of your day, what it is you look forward to. He said his conversations with his best friend were like that. I told him he was in love with his best friend, and after some brow-beating he stopped denying it.

I related that story to my dad over dinner last night, and he kept grinning at me like he knew something I didn't. Stupid grown-ups with their smug smiles and worldly knowledge.

All I know is that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" is a romantic way of saying that you miss someone to painful pieces. It's also a good cover up for the fact that suddenly insignificant irritations like missed or short phone calls and perceived indifference are suddenly much bigger deals than they should ever be.

Now off to the Wisconsin Love-Swing, which is way less dirty or exciting than you'd expect. Giving speeches in the arctic circle, while an amusing sitcom idea, is not my concept of a rollickin' good time.

Table saw,
Thrine

birthday/scheidecker

Ich liebe dich sehr, und bin glücklich mit dir

Sportfreunde Stiller is my current obsession, along with trying to find an authentic "Berliner", ala JFK's fatal "Ich bin ein Berliner" mistake, before I head back to America.

My 21st birthday was one to remember, and I mean that in all possible ways to interpret that phrase. We toured the bomb shelter bunkers underneath Berlin, saw a two mile stretch of the Berlin Wall, drank the best Milchkaffees ever, and then I went out to an Egyptian restaurant with some of my new trip friends. I was buzzed after one glass of white wine, and annoyingly tipsy after two, so I called it a night. I suppose I am what one could call a "lightweight".

So I logged onto facebook this evening to be greeting with the group invitation "In loving memory of Mr. Scheidecker". It's a hell of a way to find out someone died, let me tell you. I'm still in a little bit of shock, I think, because I don't feel upset or sad yet. I'm sure it'll sink in when I'm trying to sleep, though. It's a bit strange when someone whom you've been holding a grudge against passes away. It's not like I'm remotely glad Mr. Scheidecker is dead, although he is the man responsible for making me notice every time someone uses the redundant phrase "reason why", I'm just trying to figure out if it's wrong not to be immediately reduced to tears about it.

I'm really wishing I was home. I can't tell if Berlin is getting old, or I'm just really homesick. Maybe if I had more money I'd feel like there were still lots of options available for me to experience here. Ah, well. We've had a good run, Berlin and I. I'd just like to get back to the boy, family, friends, bed, and life.

Being away for so long essentially by yourself makes a lot of things more clear.

RIP Shy,
Cathi

(PS: I would have made a lousy team captain anyway)

Autumn meloncholy

When I was young I learned a game

where love and happiness were the same

Autumn weather always seems to suit my mood. Wet, crisp, chilly, and usually overcast it can supplement both the best and worst temprements. It's my favorite time of year and I'm all revved up to have a delightful Fall, but absolutely no time to enjoy it. Sad.

A conversation with a co-worker made me question the underlying causes for my inherent laziness. I'm beginning to think the problem is that everyone seems to have too much confidance in me. No one ever tells me that I'm not capable of doing things, or that I can't do something. Therefore, instead of trying to prove them right and show them that I deserve this confidance, I sit back and assume that these things will come to me like everyone thinks they will. Of course, if I were to be told that I couldn't do something, I very well might just sit back and give up. It's a fine line to walk, this blaming of others.

I decided that my favorite type of music is "epic". It's not a genre, just my word for absolutely grand, sweeping chords and driving beats that tell a story and make my heart soar with glee. The newest My Chemical Romance song ("Welcome to the Black Parade") fits the bill quite nicely, as does Muse's "Knights of Cydonia".

It's a rather hollow victory when you take 1st place for an event at a tournament where a) 60% of your competitors were forced to be there against their will b) 80% of them were titanically awful and c) the teammates you beat were still on notecards. I finally got a "big" trophy (yay), but the tournament director neglected to utter the phrase "And your tournament champion in Informative speaking is..." (boo). I'll take the National qualifications though, thanks.

Having my life scheduled out down to the minute makes the days fly by faster than unscheduled monotony. Where is my fall term going?

13 days until Halloween/Glynnis' birthday!
18 days until Chrissy's birthday!
27 days until Rise Against!
36 days until Thanksgiving/Interim!
44 days until Linda's birthday!
45 days until Berlin!
56 days until I turn 21!
68 days until Christmas!
75 days until 2007!

Poo York City,
Cathi

Kentucky

I'm not proud of much, but when I'm somewhere else in this world and a stranger asks me where I'm from, I stand a little straighter, my shoulders square a little broader, my eyebrows raise a little highter and with a smile I say..."Chicago".

Yet another weekend filled with reminders that I do not, in fact, talk like a normal human being. At one point I found myself surrounded by Alabama students after a rallying cry of "Y'all! Come here! Listen to how she says 'Chicago'! Hey, say it again!" This was the break of routine that I needed to draw me out of the mood I had been in. My sleep cycle will not recover for days, but the stronger bonds and the better mental health was worth it.

Nothing new, exciting, or interesting has happened to me recently with the exception of this trip, so if I talk excessivly about it, forgive me. Life has been somewhat painfully monotonous until this weekend. Highlights: buffalo chicken pizza, hour long conversation with Brady, nude mice with Courtney, 6th place, dominating Burnt, hot tubbing, Jimbob, and being insightful. For the record, Jimbob is a real person whom I met this weekend.

Short entry. Big smiles. Empty hearts. Lots of love.

Mutual Adjustable Punch,
Cathi

Priorities

Numbers and text hide ulterior agenda

I have a rating scale to judge how pathetic my life is that is directly proportional to how much time I spend thinking about guys. I've been at threat level Red: Severe for at least two weeks now.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you're going about your life and then something seemingly mundane catches you off gaurd and knocks you flat on your ass? That happened to me twice yesterday within a five minute span. Just as I was getting the breath back into my lungs from the first surprise, the other one jumped out and incapacitated me for another few minutes. It's like the world suddenly stops, you're robbed of breath, and you get rather hot or cold, depending on the stimulus. These pole-axing happenings spurred me to re-prioritize my life somewhat.

Current priorities in life
by virtue of thought/time allocation

1) Guys, one in particular.
2) What state my life is in that I am spending so much time thinking about Guys.
3) School.
4) Internship.
5) Speech team.

Goal priorities

1) School.
2) Internship.
3) Speech team.
4) Social life.

We'll see if that actually happens. Five bucks says it doesn't.

And then I found $5!,
Cathi