California

I don't mean for music to be a big part of my life. It just is.

I often find myself "praying" song lyrics. It's really not a bad thing, why reinvent the wheel? Music and lyrics often have this means of communicating things that are so much more deeper and raw than any conversation that can be had. What a better time to be raw than in prayer?

In fall semester I found myself praying a song a lot. It's a not-known song by a not-known band that laid it all out there for my heart to plea. I meditated on the bridge:

"why is 'comfortable' so uncomfortable right now? I was made for more"

It's a really good song, I encourage you to go check out the rest of it. 

"California, far from me

across the desert to the sea

a million miles away from something I don't know.

Lift my feet from here I stand,

down the street to foreign land;

anywhere you lead me, I will go."

'California' by Attaboy

China it is.

Sometimes it's {funny, miraculous, paralyzing, amazing, weird, stunning, shocking} to see how God answers prayers.

Twice

There's a saying that many live their life by. It goes something like this: "I'll try anything once."

That's all well and good, but it doesn't always work.

Believe it or not, there was a period of time when there was a female walking about the earth who did not like Pride and Prejudice."Who," you ask "would commit such a heinous crime?!" Well, truth be told that female was me. Jane Austen never did anything to me personally, I just didn't care for her, her work...or the movie. There was no particular reason, no broken-hearted past that made me a romance-hater, no fear of corsets, or even a fear of men with long hair. It simply wasn't my thing. Now, it might make you feel better inside to know that as it currently stands both Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen are gazing into each others eyes on my computer desktop, meaning that I am able to gaze upon the sight multiple times a day. What brought about the change of heart? I tried twice.

Being of positive nature, I like to think that friends positively influence us, and that's just what they did. Lazily sitting around, trying to decide on what movie would entertain us for the following hours, Pride and Prejudice was suggested and the "oohing and cooing" began...{vom}. I declined, suggesting other options but an explanation was desired. "Simply, I don't like it." The females dropped their jaws, but the response from a male friend of mine had me cornered: "I may have to stop liking you if you don't like Pride and Prejudice". Really? ok.

Turns out it's now my favorite. Why? Because I tried twice.

I had an English teacher my junior year of high school who I will never forget. Sure, I thought he was a bit "off" {turns out there was something about possession of marijuana...whatever}, but he was always super encouraging, every paper saying "Kayla, your voice, your style..."blah blah blah. He made us read more than any other English teacher I ever had, most of which I couldn't even tell you what it was, most of it in Olde English. My English teacher had a favorite book. It truely was his favorite book, I would hear him talk about it in the hallways to comrades, and even pry for secondary information from other members of the English department. The entire year he built up that we would finish with his favorite book. We the nerdy students were all excited; obviously the 'favorite book' of an English teacher had to be good--they read a lot! The book was The Metamorphasis, by Franz Kafka, and you bet your bippy that he made us read it in class.

...and it wasn't so good.

Any Worse

That feeling when your stomach just vanishes. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and feel the blood loss to all the extremities. You could be floating, but you can't; your mind is racing thoughts, and depending on how you cope with stress you may even begin to feel dizzy and see tiny stars. Remember that time when that happened? Wasn't it hilarious?

I swear to you, I'm not bragging, but my dad is the king of stories. As a child, every night my sister and I would beg him for his childhood stories. They were so entertaining, and they were coming from dad, our hero. Every night, he would oblige, dumbfounded that we would find the same story of last night still, if not more, entertaining than the night before. These stories often involved a baseball and a broken window, a dog biting a child, or somebody somewhere pooping their pants in public (those stories still get me every time). What child wouldn't want to hear a story like that?

I am in a current life situation, as you probably are too. To me, at this time it is not the least bit funny, entertaining, or even amusing. In fact, daily it is causing me great deals of stress, moments of panic, and feelings of dizziness. What gets me through the day? Knowing in my heart of hearts that one day, this is going to make a great story. My kids one day are going to beg and plead for me to tell this story over and over again, so much so that some day I will have to laugh. So, being in this predicament I began to instead try to cheer myself up with other traumatic times in my life that ended up being ok. Now that I actually think about them, I can do nothing by laugh at myself, at the scenarios, and chuckle at how God works all things...crazy as they may be...to His good. These are just the ones off the top of my head, all from recent years.

Scene One (August 2007)

Basically my face when I looked in the mirror.

Prepping for college, everything had to be just right. From the sheets, to the computer, to the posters that I would hang on my wall; so many details to take care of, save what I know was easiest for last. A day before the "big move" I went out with my mom to get my hair done. Being that college was a fresh start, my hair should obviously reflect my life, correct? New cut, sure. New color, why not? As often mom's do, talking ensued and there sat me in the chair, engulfed by the aroma of chemicals and humimng of fluorescent lights. Ding, time is up, and conversation still continues. Ding again, time is way up, but chatter presses on as I become distracted by a sparkle on the floor. Eventually the chemicals are washed out, and Kayla arises to find that her hair is in fact: purple. The color of Barney's outer shell, violets, and other non natural things.

Life couldn't get any worse.

Definitely panicked, but life continued...

Scene Two (August/September 2008)

So college started off a little special.  Why not take a fresh start on sophomore year? Now, this story actually deserves a longer explanation than I am currently able to give; perhaps one day (someone remind me).The basics go something like this...One of my pride and joys during my college career was my time spent in Residence Life. This involved many activities and training before school actually started. This involved playing tag, in which a collision happened and I ended up on the ground, no big deal. Two weeks later the emergency room tells me that my leg is fractured. That means that for the next two months my leg would be bound by plaster, and my armpits would endure freakish amounts of pain. To compensate, the school health clinic provided a motorized scooter for me to scoot my butt around campus for two months. Of course, to all my friends this translated as "free rides", and to the rest of campus, I was the chick taking up the entire sidewalk, bellowing through lost little freshman, blaring the horn that the scooter came equipped with. Life couldn't get any worse.

Definitely humiliating, but life continued...

Scene Three (December 2010)

Still involved with ResLife, myself and partner-in-crime Kate found ourselves in leadership positions. ResLife found itself with free samples of tampons, deodorants, and laundry detergent that they wanted distributed to all of the student body. Being leaders, we were in charge of the tampons (deodorants and detergent). Our mission: to relocate approximately 20 awkwardly sized boxes from the north side of campus to the south side of campus, with only the use of Kayla's car, and the brute strength that bulges from our biceps. We soon learned that the task was much greater than originally anticipated, and by the first round of transportation, all strength and energy was lost. Perseverance showed up, so to load round two we went. Now of course, these boxes couldn't just be unloaded, they also had to be transported about 50 yards in 23 degree weather. At one point boxes were dropped, limbs were aching, and in front of South Complex for all the world to hear, a bellowing cry of "Damn the tampons! Damn all of the tampons!" was exclaimed. Not to mention loads 4, 5 and 6 were completed whilst the ladies were down-and-out. Life couldn't get any worse.

Definitely frustrating, but life continued... 

Perhaps this sparks some other predicaments in your life that you now find amusing. I encourage you to share your own personal stories, and encourage you to find hope in the predicaments that you may currently find yourself in. Frustration, humiliation, panic? yes. But hear me when I say, your life will continue.

Lessons from Mulan

Whether you are young or old, there is a Disney character just for you. I know that there is a lot of criticism out there of Disney movies, but really they are brilliant at creating these characters that just live in your heart. Like Mushu. He perhaps takes the cake for being one of my favorite Disney characters of all time. If you recall, Mushu is a lizard... I mean dragon ... and looks something like this. 

It's quite coincidential, Mulan taking place in China, me going to China; it's like we're sisters or something. Not really, but here is the parallel. Upon cleaning out a portion of the basement today my dad handed me a folder. Inside this folder was a collection of writing samples that my school had taken from me between the ages of kindergarten and 12th grade. Now, I am a freak when it comes to tracking progress, improvements, and growth so I absolutely loved every minute of peeling through piece after piece. They began as very simple, one sentence writing samples of "I like to go swimming" (guess what grade that was taken from?). They eventually progressed towards more interisting things, one story about a magic hot dog, and a persuasion letter of why "Touched By An Angel" shouldn't be taken off the air (no, really, I should post it some time, it was absolutely hilarious). 

Something happened between 8th and 9th grade. I pulled out my sample from my freshman year of high school and was dumbfounded at what was written in my very own handwriting. Four plain pieces of paper and a splotty blue pen; words of my own emotionally moving me eight years in the future. It was a moving experience for a variety of reasons, one being that I can barely remember who I was in high school. Two, realizing that all that was proposed, all that was discussed throughout the writing, I didn't have the courage to overcome until recently. A dream, put forth eight years ago that has finally come to be. I had written this sample thinking that there would be a change, but in no way was that change immediate. The sample touches on concepts that every teenage girl contemplates and struggles through; shoot, even some twenty-something girls are caught as well. I decided to take the time to share it with the world; my hope is that it has the ability to perhaps speak to you in some way. Isn't that what writing is all about, immersing ourselves in the experiences of others so that we can draw parallels to our own lives?

The task that was set forth is as follows: "Choose a song that best reflects your personality. Show how the song relates to events in your life and/or your hopes for the future. Use specific lines from the song that support what you write about yourself." A reminder, that this is coming from the voice of 9th-grade-Kayla. (all punctuation, wording, and grammar is copied straight from the page)

Reflection (from 2003)

" My life would be an amazing story if I ever gained the energy to write about it. It's so full of ups and downs, just in my short 14 years. What I'm trying to say is it would be impossible for me to find a song that fits my personality exactly because I'm always changing and learning new things. For now, I think the song "Reflection" from the movie Mulan works for me at this point in my life. It's very possible (and likely) that in five years I'll have a different "theme song". My personality could change, my outlook on life could change, and so could my priorities. All of these things factor in with my theme song. An example is when I was younger, my theme song would probably be the "Hokey Pokey" because I was wild, energetic, and didn't have a care in the world. For this step in my life, I believe that "Reflection" is a good song for me.

"Look at me

You may think you see

Who I really am

But you'll never know me"

Oh how these words are so true. It's as though today this world puts a label on you, whether it's true or not. I admit, I'm guilty myself. As much as I try to avoid it, the world wraps itself around me and pushes me into its way of thinking. We're all judged by our outward appearance, and if we 'pass' we'll be accepted in the in-crowd. People may look at me and already label me without getting to know me. They have no idea that maybe we share the same hobbies, like the same bands, or take the same class. That doesn't matter to them. They will only like me if they like my outer appearance.

"Every day

It's as if I play a part."

Who doesn't want to be accepted? So I might as well blend in with the crowd, right? Do the same things, talk the same lingo, buy the same clothes. I cover up to be someone I'm not. Acting is what I do best.

"Now I see

If I wear a mask 

I can fool the world

But I cannot fool my heart"

Wow, they really are appreciating me now. And all I had to do was act like them, talk like them, and look like them? That's not so bad at all! But...if it's not so bad, why do I feel so guilty? Why does my heart beat faster every time they mock, or talk about someone who's not like them? Is it because that one lone person should be me?

"Who is that girl I see

Staring straight back at me?

When will my reflection show

Who I am inside?"

I look in the mirror. Who's that? That girl can't be me. That's someone I don't know. My reflection shows the outer me. Why that part? The inside is so much more interesting and colorful then the black and white outside.

"I am now

In a world where I

Have to hide my heart

And what I believe in"

Things just keep getting out of control. Why must my heart, so full of energy and passion, be hidden? Why am I so afraid to show it off? Because I'm scared? Of what? Rejection, maybe? What if I believe God is real and alive? Why does that have to hide? It shouldn't. Now things are more confusing than ever.

"But somehow

I will show the world 

What's inside my heart

And be loved for who I am."

Something has to change. I have to unveil the truth, and become my own person. My heart no longer wants to hide, I know it doesn't. I can hear it inside me, calling to let it free, to let it soar away. Why won't I? Am I too afraid to let others see my real heart? Or am I afraid I'll lose it forever? Well, how about I let it loose so only a few people see it. Oh, but it longs for eternal freedom, to become a heart like none other. Why am I so ashamed of it? This can't go on much longer. What happens when people get tired of my act? Must I become true and pure? Well, what if they don't like that? What if they never liked my act in the fist place? I'd be living a lie! I must be loved for my heart, not my appearance, intelligence, or popularity.

"Who is that girl I see

Staring straight back at me?

Why is my reflection

Someone I don't know?

Must I pretend that I'm

Someone else for all time?

When will my reflection show

Who I am inside?"

I glance once more into the dreaded mirror, and once again question who's there. I check behind me, to make sure that I'm alone. Me, the mirror, and a stranger. Why is this person so unfamiliar? I mean, she kind of resembles me but... it must be me. I've gotten so good at faking and pretending that I can even fool myself. How long does this go on? Forever? Or is it a person that comes out of me only when I want her to? Once again I long for the inside of me to show.

"There's a heart that must be free to fly

That burns with a need to know the reason why"

My heart yearns to fly again, to be itself. After I free my heart it questions me why I cooped it up for so long. Why I was ashamed. Why, why, why. I have no answers.

"Why must we all conceal

What we think, how we feel?

Must there be a secret me

I'm forced to hide?"

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we not voice our opinions, but instead keep them quiet? Why must we all be the same instead of being original? Why do I coop up my emotions and thoughts when I could go out there and make a difference? Why do I hide it? Am I forced to, or do I have a choice?

"I won't pretend that I'm

Someone else for all time.

When will my reflection show

Who I am inside?"

I'm finally me at last. Unique, and free as a bird. I'll never take that road again. Who cares what I look like? Not me. It shouldn't matter. It may be awhile before my insides begin reflecting from my outside, but until them I'm gonna be me.

When I read this song, it hit me at home. I know that this song was for me, I'm glad I chose it. By writing this sample, I questioned myself, asking lots of why this...why that? Things for me are going to change; I'm going to be me."

Trains

I have found myself working for the summer, which is truely a wonderful thing for my bank account. I'm putting my recently acquired knowledge and skills to use at a local factory. No, I am not teaching anyone there to sing. I am instead shipping boxes and boxes of contacts. Those plastic things that millions of people put in their eyes are made at a factory not too far from my house, at which I have found employment. The wonderful thing about a factory is that it is loud; meaning I can sing to myself all day and no one notices. Putting my skills to use for the entertainment of...myself.

This job is truely an eye opening experience (no pun intended) on a variety of levels. Ah yes, at times it can be monotonous, and you start to see things that aren't really there, but I'm sure that happens to everyone. To make the time pass, I've been trying to keep track of my trains of thought. Where does my mind wander to occupy the time? I kept a pen and paper nearby all day to jot down my trains, and as I read it back to myself in the car I realized...well,  I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

Work begins at 6:30am. One thing I learned through student-teaching is that early-morning-kayla is not as 'with it' as every-day-kayla (who is already deducted a few notches on the 'with-it' ladder). This equates that early-morning-kayla is significantly more scatterbrained and slow on the uptake than a normal functioning human being. Luckily for me, once the body and fingers are set to do the work, the mind is left to wander.

Trains of thought started with me singing through the majority of "Rent" (the musical) through my head. Three times. Sure, I skipped some of the songs that I didn't know as well, and then there were others (those defining Rent songs like "Seasons of Love" and "Take Me or Leave Me") that were on 'repeat' for a time on my mental playlist. This is Kayla at 6:30 in the morning. Kayla hasn't been a musical junkie since freshman year of college, furthering the theory that early-morning-kayla is a completely different persona all together. Needless to say I started thinking about what it would be like to become a character on a stage again, something I used to find pleasure in doing, now the thought appalls me {I'll have to write another blog as to why}. However, my persona this morning had no qualms with envisioning myself as Mimi Marquez, flailing over railings in sky blue hot pants and howling at the moon. Of course, I was also envisioning myself several skin tones darker, as anyone with a background with Rent would realize the impossibility of me ever performing as Mimi. But hey, that's what daydreams are for. Moving on...

I work at a desk that is next to conveyor belts. Truly, Henry Ford was a genius for that whole assembly line system of things. I'm at the desk and continually watch bins of contacts float past me, while I place the packages to be shipped on the conveyor belt beneath it. From the angle I sit at the bins of contacts turn a corner, kind of like a roller coaster... but for contacts. I started thinking about roller coasters, or what it would be like to shrink myself like Miss Frizzle did with her students on the Magic School Bus and hop in one of the bins with the contacts. I further progressed to write an entire episode of "the Magic School Bus", with the kids exploring what it would be like at my factory, of course with a ride on the contact-conveyor-belt-roller-coaster to finish the episode.Then if I got to do that?! I'd get to float around the entire factory, up and down, twisting and turning on these conveyor belts and that definitely would have been more fun that packing boxes. Literally these conveyor belts are at ground level in some places, and then only mere feet away from the ceiling at other points. We're talkin' one massive roller coaster.

I talk to the customers. In my head of course. I say "thank you" to those customers who purchase boxes of contacts as opposed to singlets (no, not wrestling singlets, singlet packages of contacts). You see, if someone buys just a box of contacts I can put it in yet anther box and go. But the singlets have to be wrapped in foam, and then taped and secured, and it basically throws off my groove. At 6:30 in the mornin', this girl don't like her groove to be thrown. This also progresses on to my game. Yes, I made a game for myself. The things the mind can do to keep itself occupied.

I ship contacts through UPS, meaning after I have packaged up the contacts all nice and pretty, I get to put the UPS label on it. Most of the label is just little black dots and lines and things I can't make sense of, except for two letters, indicating which state the package is going to. So far, California is winning with Kansas a close second. I've also found with each state that pops out, my mind automatically associates a memory or a person, or a person and memory. For example, every time New Jersey pops out I think of Rebecca, a dear friend who is from there and how her stories of being so close to NYC made me jealous. Or how Louisiana makes me think of Amber from 5th grade, our one student who moved to my elementary school from Louisiana and we all thought she was the coolest thing. Many of them make me smile, like Oklahoma, Maryland, Connecticut, Washington. As I print and stick the labels I shoot up a quick prayer for the memory and person that is called to mind. I'm actually even impressed with myself as there are very few states that I have no association with. Anyone out there have associations with Oregon, Mississippi, Montana, Wyoming, or the Dakotas?

 The boxes and I occasionally get into scuffles. Luckily for me I have a height factor, but these little buggers (literally, 6x4 inch boxes) have some nasty tricks up their sleeve. I already have three fingers in rehab from cardboard cuts. As imagined, these are worse than paper cuts. Longer, redder, and more painful. What hurts the worst is that they're normally a blow to the self-esteem too. Just when you think you've tackled that box and have it pinned down, it comes back out and pops you one, slicing your skin on the way. Then you're left thinking "how did I let that scrawny little box get the best of me? How could I have let my guard down?" Within two minutes you move on to the next, self-esteem fully restored and the mind back to wandering.

I was observing the culture of "factory" today. It's this busy, yet chill culture, and it's exceedingly diverse too. My mental train took a detour as to what other factories might look like, not just contact factories. Mr. Rodgers used to do segments of how various products were made, and he would show footage of factories on his show. The one I will never forget is the clip from the crayola factory. As I was packing contacts, I began to think about the Crayola factory and what it would be like to work there. The first thing that popped in my head was unicorns and sparkles. Literally. Don't act surprised. I can't help these things, they just pop up! After I spent some time with the unicorns, I thought about walking around the crayola factory in white all day and having people color me all day long...I'd come home a different piece of art every day.

The final train that fills the missing pieces of track, the mortar that fills in all the empty spaces has to do with what I will be doing in two short months. Boy, are those thoughts exciting, exhilarating, energetic, and blissful. You can find out more here about what I will be doing. Feel free to follow along and keep updated.

As I said before, I'm allowing you to draw your own conclusions. You can bet your bippy that there will be more to come, too.

Living Death

College was a time when I had a lot of conversations. College was a time when I had well, a lot of things. As far as conversations are concerned there was one time when I was surprised by a friend of mine who popped in my room just for a brief chat. This chat ended up being two hours long. Now, I had had many an extended conversation with this young {and beautiful} lady before, but for some reason this particular conversation is crystal clear in my memory. Our topic of conversation was death, good-byes, and faith... always something spiritual. I was going through a time of loss and mourning and was in some rut of trying to figure out life or something. For the time that I was going through I was disturbed that I still had found it harder to say "goodbye" than the final "goodbye". It was then that we proceeded to discuss goodbyes as living deaths. This is due to the fact that while you are still saying goodbye to a person, to a relationship, both you and they still have to live. You have to let go, living with the potential of what could be. Where death is involved, it' over, your time is up.

Sorry so morbid. This conversation has been replaying in my mind throughout the past few days as I close the era of college and now am forced to progress onto the real world. So many more conversations have been had about my inability to say goodbye, why it's so hard, etc. and I've come to the conclusion that it's just the way it is. If it's one thing I'm pessimistic about, let it be closure. Being the type of person I am, I wonder about potential, if things were lived up to, and if there was any way possible to make "what was" better. But it's still this crazy balance because I am so in love with the times that were had, trying to keep them fresh and alive is like a full-time job. I guess I'll be taking these next few months to figure all of that out.

I know I'm biased, but I really and truely have the greatest friends in the world. In only three years they have taught me how to live, shared happy life and broken life with me, and most importantly, still continue to love. There's so much more I could say about them but then that might get creepy. I'm sure by the end of the summer you'll be hearing some stories and memories.

Music is powerful and to finish out the year I compiled a mix CD with various suggestions of loved ones, representing things they had gone through throughout this past year, or that represent where they are in life right now. I too contributed to this, the song representing me being "The Call" by Regina Spektor<3. I feel obligated to share the below clip with you because not only is it the song, it's also being sung by the PS22 choir. I don't know if you know anything about PS22, but whatever this guy is doing with these kids--it's workin'.  It's the beauty of music education, people. I don't know if I could have found a better clip to represent :)