A Variation of Success

This my friends, is not my first blog. I started my first in 2006, failed again in spring of 2007, and didn't find the wherewithal to stick with writing posts until my third, and current, blog. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the process. I just found myself quite often faced with change and challenge, and my blog did not land high on my "Important Things to Do" list.

However, I have grown quite fond of my current "Katy the Train" blog, and am glad that I have continued to post fairly regularly. So much, in fact, that I have been branching out and now also write two additional blogs...I know, crazy, right?

The first new blog is a team effort with my big sis. While we've, sadly, fallen behind a little lately, these posts are dedicated to what Em and I do best - make fun of things. We're quite good at it and decided to bestow upon the world our opinion of all things ridiculous. Oh yes, we're just getting started with The Snark Sisters.

My second effort is brand spankin' new as of last night. I've decided to channel my love of all things literary into a new blog of book reviews. I've moved my review of Eat Pray Love there as my first entry as this was the blog post that reminded me how much I like to dissect and talk about books. Hence, Tea and a Book, named after a C.S. Lewis quote that I love (you'll have to check out the blog to see the quote!!). I can't guarantee wild success as this is a larger time commitment than the other blogs, but I'm excited to work on the entries and see where it goes!! Books suggestions are very welcome - especially fiction, as I don't seem to read very much of that.

Well, my friends, that's all for now.

Tiny Baby Lemur

So I read the Daily Mail like some people read the Bible. I have to check it a couple of times a day because it's so brutal! This is no holds bar celebrity and political gossip...and I love it. I'm pretty sure there is nothing that this paper won't write about. When I lived in London, it was a staple on my grocery shopping list. And sometimes, its articles just about make my day.

Like today's story of a newborn-ed lemur named Tahina in eastern France.

She is being raised in captivity without a mama. And while the vets can feed her, she's needs to cuddle with something just as she would her mother if she was in the wild. How cute is she with her teddy bear??

The universal truth found in this article, I believe, is that teddy bears are a necessity when you're little, lemur or not, for security and love. If something is chubby and furry, how can one resist? My teddy bear was named Chubby Cheeks Townhall (don't ask, I have no idea how I came up with that name), and he was the best!

And no mocking, I'm sure every one of you owned a teddy bear with an ridiculous name as well.

Monday, Monday

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is FINEEEEE, YEAHHHHH
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Unlike last weekend, when I spent my time and energy cursing the gods of coughing and sinus problems, this past week has been both busy and highly entertaining. A week ago, I attended Madame Butterfly with my friend as part of our Lyric subscription. And I have to say, I have the same relationship with this opera that I have with Othello (both the opera and the play), and that is a love/hate relationship. I love the music and the drama and the tragedy, but I find myself saying to Pinkerton (Madame Butterfly's love interest), "You idiot!! You jerk!! You a**hole!!!!" (Sorry, mom, but I do.) At the end of Act I, he sings this beautiful duet with MB, and the whole time he knows he's going to leave her. And you know this whole thing isn't going to end well. It's like a car wreck that you just can't look away from. That said...still some of my favorite music.

Fast forward two French classes and four work days, and I'm out with some friends going to see one of my favorite things in Chicago - IO's Improv Shakespeare. Picture six dudes, one audience suggested title, and then a long-form improv show in Shakespearean style. I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard.

Saturday was House of Blues to see Superdiamond - a Neil Diamond tribute band. One of the best concerts I've ever seen...the singer moved and sounded just like the real Neil Diamond...it was so freaky at first!! But the band was incredible and some of the traditional songs got some added funkiness - making for a rocking concert that I can't not WAIT to see again.

By last night, I had completely fallen from the high art that is the Lyric Opera of Chicago to see My Bloody Valentine 3D. It probably won't add anything major to the genre of horror films, but the use of 3D was pretty sweet and it's always fun to be part of an audience that reacts to the film. Plus, I saw a preview for this movie which looks really inventive and interesting. Plus, my Hyde Park peeps introduced me to this show afterwards, which is freaking hilarious - particularly the David Bowie episode.

Altogether a rather brilliant weekend...

And today, well, back to reality with cleaning, laundry, and the like...no cryin' however, despite what the Mamas and the Papas say.

Eat. Pray. Love. Gag.

So, after years of being told "You HAVE to read this book," I finally gave in and read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I was hesitant, as when I worked at Barnes & Noble in DC, most women would inevitably buy this in tandem with "The Secret." While immensely popular, they both just sort of screamed chick flick in-a-book, and those who know me know how I feel about chick flicks...other than Pride & Prejudice...that's a different case entirely. I'm more of a "If it bleeds, we can kill it," kind of girl as opposed to "You had me at hello."

So, with caution, I started to read Eat Pray Love. Now, a caveat to this post is that I have never been in love with someone so much that I would do anything for them. I've had strong feelings for others, but never "in love." I've also never been through a divorce, painful or not. So, unlike most women my age, who have had at least one serious, committed relationship by the age of 26, I was coming at this from a very different perspective. I was reading this as a spectator to those sort of emotions, but very much interested in the travel that she accomplished during her year in Italy, India, and Indonesia.

And to that end, I was not disappointed. Her sassy descriptions of the people and places she visit are unendingly entertaining and her prose style is very visual and precise. One can feel like you're sitting at the table with her as she struggles to learn Italian, or grasp the meaning of some of the mantras at the Ashram, and etc., etc. You find yourself in the bathroom with her in the middle of the night as she sobs over what she may have lost by divorcing her husband and during the ensuing depression.

However, I found myself, overall, never really emotionally connected to the book itself. There was no suspense, no wondering how the story would end - it was obvious from the start that her fairy tale ending would come true. I would find myself on the brink of feeling her pain until it turned into the equivalent of a sitcom ending - the bad stuff is shoved aside my some heartfelt moment. She consistently got her way and had everything she touched turn to success. The sacchariness of it all made it hard for me to follow her on a journey when it was laughs from the outset.

Yes, there was mention of doubt, depression, suicidal tendencies, guilt, and all of those other negative emotions that were quickly eclipsed by the next method of reaching God, or finding the best pizza in Italy. The quicksilver change of emotions did not lend itself rather to a journey, but more a spastic attempt at finding meaning through whatever path she possibly could.

I don't mean to sound over-harsh, but I had to read the book in segments, as I would become frustrated and overwhelmed by the sheer preachiness of the book at times. While I applaud the author for her frank, brutal assessment of her life, I never felt for her. Her pain was a vehicle for her writing, but even when she achieved her goals, it didn't feel like an accomplishment, because all along, I felt like she was already there.

My TV and I have broken up

Whoever said sleep is supposed to heal, I say they're full of crap and I'm quietly judging them right now.

You see, yesterday, I stayed home from work and cursed anything and everyone from my futon while I wallowed in kleenex, Advil, and cranberry juice. That said, lacking the cure for the common cold, I COUNTED on my TV coming through for me. And, like the CTA on a weekend, it let me down. I turned it on in the morning in anticipation of a day of bad (but oh so good) daytime television, and you know what I got...heartache and disappointment. In other words - black and white snow. I attempted to mess with the wires on the cable box and TV, but fatigued and sweaty thanks to my overtaxed white blood cells, I gave up after 15 minutes and switched to DVDs. I watched a couple of my favorite action films, but then switched to my other film love - French films. I finished out with The Triplets of Belleville, which is brilliant by the way, and went to bed to attempt to recover from both my cold and my disappointment in my cable.

My this morning, it only got worse...I went to watch The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and got...sound, but no picture. What?!?! How am I supposed to heal without my Mathieu Amalric fix? I messed with some wires again, to no avail, and then did the only thing I could think of...called my parents to whine.

Long story short, my dad passed on some sage advice, and this evening after switching my cable boxes around, I discovered that the fault lies not with my cable or my DVD player, but with my TV. Sad face...

Now granted, the TV is oh, about 5 or so years old, and has been moved from Indianapolis to DC to Chicago and has now been owned by both Hall sisters, but I have expectations!! My 15 year old tiny 13 inch TV is still in fine form, and I have taken that thing everywhere and played it constantly...that is love and devotion, and for that I applaud Sharp. In fact, I give that company mad props. But my other TV, nothing - it's a sad monument to failed electronics everywhere.

So what's a girl to do? Well, actually, I called my parents again to whine. And now I'm looking for a new TV. If anyone knows where I can get a 1080p, 72-inch, LCD for $400 - let me know...because that would be a happy magical place where I would like to shop.

Top 5 Reasons I need a PA

So, yeah, I probably don't really need a personal assistant - but in the magical world inside my head, it sounds like a brilliant idea. Thus, the Top 5 Reasons I need a PA:

1) When I'm laid low with the worst cold this side of the Mississippi (as I currently am), I can make a list of my most-wanted items and send my PA out in to the 5 inches of snow for me

2) When I feel the need to run to Target, at the snap of my fingers, my PA can rent me a car and chauffeur me there

3) I can finally escape the embarassment of my hideous handwriting and have someone take notes for me, so when I can share info with my coworkers without having to type it first

4) Two words...litter box

5) When things happen like, oh, I don't know, the plate on my electrical pipe on my ceiling falls off and I end up with plaster all over my living room floor, there's someone there to help as my vacuum cleaner merely spreads the mess around.

And yes, in case you're wondering, most "Top" lists have ten reasons, but as I've already used 8 kleenex's during this post, and still can't breathe, I think 5 is my magic number.

Now if I only had a PA to write the rest of it...

Ugh, I'm an idiot

I fulfilled one of my 100/10 goals like 2 months ago and never even wrote about it!!

57) Get certified in CPR.

Done - many thanks to the great Front of House staff at the CSO that provided the classes.

9 down, 91 to go, 9.5 years to go...totes

Let's spread some Goodwill, shall we?

I'd like to take some time as we begin 2009 to remind everyone that while the new year is bright and shiny, everything that you buy doesn't have to be.

Last night I was chatting with a friend, and he mentioned that he had to peace out in order to get his NYE clothes at Goodwill. I thought that was absolutely brilliant. As my sis, the Goodwill Fashionista, would say - Goodwill has something for everyone. But this entry is not just a promotion of Goodwill, but rather one of the ideals that comes to mind when I think of them - the reuse of goods, instead of the waste of them.

Another friend was over for dinner last night and asked me what my decorating style was (first time she had seen the apartment), and I replied "Used." While I'm not sure that Home & Garden would qualify that as a style technically-speaking, in my case it's very true. My furniture comes from a variety of places: cheap antique shops, garage sales, family members, and in one case, off the side of the road. My pictures in my bedroom are all from Goodwill or garage sales. My flatware is from a CSO catering sale, and the rest of my kitchen stuff is mostly hard-bargained-for antiques. And somehow it all works - I love the way all of the eclectic items fit together. And honestly, nothing says a fantastic Saturday afternoon like a couple of hours at a good used bookstore.

And while I may be up on my soapbox right now, I have to admit - used is the way to go. Everytime I put on my bright orange velvet blazer from Goodill, I think, "Man, you can't find this kind of stuff anywhere else." Especially in a time of recession mixed in with environmental concerns, shopping used is a great way to "Reuse, Reduce, Recycle." Admittedly, buying organic and/or natural can be difficult when one is on a budget, but next time you think of purchasing, make the treck to your local thrift shop and see what magic can happen. I started doing this back in high school and bought both my homecoming dresses for only $10 each.

As the infamous Coco Chanel once said, "Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening." So consider the way we live next time you shop.