Poem Written Three Years Ago, and I Still Like It

addressed

i did not think
you would let me
in, that it was

too late
to stop by; so i
wrote you this letter

slid into a
cream
envelope with an

almost cabbage,
bittersweet seal.
there is not much.

this letter is
addressed to you
who did not want

noise, you who believes
apologies like roots
grow deeper than

this blueberry ink
could sink, deeper into
more than this cream-

colored paper. it is
not enough. but see,
i give you

paper moons
and scissor stars
slipped under your door

word constellations
in a bittersweet
envelope.

Rain

I heard the rain before I saw it. I was lying on the futon in me and Mel's apartment when I heard the hammering of rain beating against the roof. I got up and walked outside and stood underneath the overhang for as long the rain lasted, just watching, listening, and smelling the rain. Being quiet.

I have a lot of rain memories. Walking in the rain. Running in the rain. Standing in the rain.

I think one of my favorite rain memories happened a while back when I was still a camp counselor. Every night, we counselors led devotions with the girls. One night, the rain starting coming down, and I decided to take the girls out on the porch to watch the rain. As we watched the rain come down in silver sheets on the dark green mountain, I read to them the story of Noah's ark from the Bible. When I was done and Noah and his family had seen the rainbow, my girls and I continued to watch the rain in a hushed quietness. We all sat, hugging our knees, watching, listening, smelling that rain.

She Beat Me To It

I once told a friend of mine that I had met someone that reminded me a lot of her. She replied, "It's always fun/interesting to hear that there is someone else out there in the world that reflects you in some small way."

So, browsing through my music tonight, I stumbled across this video of Imogen Heap, who is my musical heroine. She is so cool, and I feel like she is everything that I would want to be as a musician. The way she dances reminds me of myself, although she looks way cooler, and I love her voice. If I ever did a music video, I would want to dress up like her.

Reflections of the people we wish we would become are somehow reassuring and frustrating simultaneously. Check it out, one of my favorites, the ultimate stalker song:
Goodnight and Go

Doodles

So, I found these doodles of mine from three years ago. Funny how some things never change.

A poet who knows it

When I got back from the most wonderful retreat of my life on Sunday, I checked my email to view an email from poetry.com. This is the bulk of it:

Dear Mary Rodgers,

I am delighted to inform you that your poem "June, July, Mostly August, 2004 (Common Era)" has been awarded our prestigious Editor's Choice Award because it displays an original perspective and unique creativity -- judged to be the qualities found most in exceptional poetry. Congratulations on your achievement!

I laughed when I read this. I mean, really? Really? And the thing is, even though I posted it on poetry.com, who is poetry.com anyway? Who is this Editor?

Now, you might be saying, Kat! That's awesome! Why aren't you stoked?

Here's why:
Of course, the rest of the email informed me that if I wanted to buy a copy of the book it was to be published in, I could. How many of these Editor's Choice Awards are awarded? This is the skeptic in me talking, which rarely speaks up.

And yet,

To be a poet. For my livelihood. For my life.

I'll take what I can get. Someone (poetry.com) is publishing my poetry, and even though it might be a joke or a way to get money from me, part of me still lights up at the idea that someone is reading my poetry and saying, "Promising."

It's like that bubblegum song by Mandy Moore, "And now I'm ready to be extraordinary." And I think I just might be.

There are so many extraordinary people in my life, for which I am so thankful.

Extraordinary

Tonight I find myself on the futon, sitting next to my beloved roomie, reminiscing on life and its weirdness. I stumbled across an email I wrote someone last year and found that it still spoke to me. Maybe it will speak to you too.

Dear Blankety-Blank-Blank,

So, it didn't even dawn on me that I'd like to share this with you tonight at y'all's killer party, but since this was something we had talked about a while ago now, I thought I'd update you.

So, I have cried almost everyday this semester so far. Don't feel bad for me because really this is a good story. Last year, as I recall telling, I began praying a really, really stupid prayer, that God would make my life extraordinary. Now, when I was a junior in high school, I prayed an even stupider prayer, asking God to test me. Well, God tested me. God stripped my life away my senior year, and then my freshman and sophomore years of college, God put me in the fire. As He promised, He was with me and He grew me. It was hardest time of my life. I've never felt so much pain before, but now, on the other side, I rejoice and I give thanks for what He is doing.

It occurred to me today that God is taking me up on my prayer from last year, which is just like God. When I started praying this Extraordinary prayer last year, it was about that time that I began to have my doubts about the School of Education. Finally, by the end of the year, I knew that that path was not the one God intended for me. This year, I think I am now moving in sync with my passions and my skills and my desires, things that have only until recently been unearthed. Turns out I don't even really know who I am or what I want. One thing I know is true is that God is a God who answers prayers. Just like in high school, God is now taking my life, by my request granted, and is leading me down a path that is scary and wild and extraordinary. It hurts tremendously right now, fighting against myself, against my Type-A personality, against every plan I had in my head a year ago, but I'm fighting to hold to the dream that God could take me farther than I'd ever thought imaginable.

I see God at work around me. I see God give grace and courage and love and justice in a world that is broken and dying. But it's almost shocking to see God at work inside of me. To think that God would be working in me, a broken soul that's missing pieces to a puzzled heart, is irrational because I assume I am broken beyond repair. I am scared and I tremble before a Holy and Awesome God, that One who Is and Was and Is To Be. And all of this is here in me, and in you.

To pray for the extraordinary is to pray a dangerous thing. But God is not calling us to be safe. He is calling us to be wise, but in wisdom, to be fearless. I cry because the ordinary, which is safe and familiar, is once again gone. And I remember, like a dream or like that deja vu that just hits you, that I am a Daughter of Heaven. And I'm free-falling into the arms of a good Father who has called me to a life that has just as much biggness and beauty as a storm in the desert.

God answers prayer. This has been proven.
Why He answers them? This still eludes me, but until then, I will give the only answer I have: For His Glory.

I just rambled there. And I rambled A LOT. I'm not going to edit it, though, but rather I'm going to save me a copy of it so I remember having sat here, reflecting on the ways of the King. I hope that this is an encouragement to you, and that you find your prayers answered too.

With much love and peace,
Kat

When I Grow Up

When I was little, I wanted to be a FBI agent like my grandfather was. But I didn't really want to kill anyone or even shoot at anyone, so I thought I could just work for the FBI in the crime labs in Washington, D.C. So, by the time I was in 6th grade and my teacher Mr. Brown asked me what I wanted to be when I got older, I answered, "I want to be a biochemical engineer." I assumed that all biochemists worked for the FBI. Where else would they work?

Look at me now, Mr. Brown. I am an English Major with a Creative Writing Minor to top it off. Funny how things change.

I always had reservations about becoming an English Major. Academically, it was wonderful, but practically, well, I had (and perhaps still do) a lot of insecurities about what I was going to do after college. Recently, I applied for a job at a bookstore and had an interview, and I'm waiting to hear back. If I end up getting this job, I think I'll really enjoy it.

If I don't get this job, well, then it's back to Square 1. But, I do have a plan.

I think the next line of work I should pursue is stunt driving. Why?
1. I'm an awesome driver.
2. I'm an awesome driver.
3. I believe in the power of the seat belt.
4. Because I believe in the power of the seat belt, I'm not scared to off-road, do donuts, run over bicycles that don't belong to anyone and were going to be recycled anyway, and go really, really fast.
5. It'd be awesome.

"It's nice to meet you, Kat. What do you do?"
"I'm a professional stunt driver, mostly Ferraris."
"Wow. Um, can I have your phone number? I lost mine."

See how wonderful it'd be?

There are driving schools around here somewhere, I'm sure. I don't see why they wouldn't accept me.

But then maybe this bookstore will hire me. And then with my English Major skills, I'll write a book about stunt drivers and just daydream about fast cars.

And then if that doesn't work, I guess it'll have to be the FBI. But no biochemistry for me. I would singlehandedly bring down the Periodic Table. By accident. By a big, explosive, radioactive accident.