i'm sick of being sick.

kate03 vs. kate06

When someone I haven't known since 2003 calls and asks me on a date, am I supposed to be 2003 me or 2006 me?

Thanks alot, Neil Papworth

The first commercial SMS message was sent over the Vodafone GSM network in the United Kingdom on 3 December 1992, from Neil Papworth of Sema Group (using a personal computer) to Richard Jarvis of Vodafone (using an Orbitel 901 handset). The text of the message was "Merry Christmas". The first SMS typed on a GSM phone is claimed to have been sent by Riku Pihkonen, an engineer student at Nokia, in 1993.

And the world of dating was officially changed. That's right, I'm pegging the invention of text messaging as the climax of the decline of male assertiveness. Why call when you can text? Why stop by when you can comment on myspace? Why sit by her in class when you can poke her on facebook? Why propose on the beach when you can post a notice on LDS linkups? I'm just saying...it's way too easy to not do it right these days. And it all started with the text.

note to self (part two):

Making and writing Christmas cards is not the same as putting cards in an envelope and sending them in the mail so that they make it to the recipients. Just like buying and wrapping Christmas gifts is not the same as mailing/delivering them. And carrying these things around with you all day for a few weeks isn't the same as taking them to the post office, either.

and please bless the man that anonymously paid for my gasoline tonight.

Dear 157 W. Pierpont: I will miss you. Every day. Love, Kate.

Merry Christmas to Me.

note to self:

making a list is not the same as accomplishing the things on that list.
I just keep forgetting that.

but THEy’re just FRIENDLY little BEASTS.

Why did I ignore this lovely carol for so so long? I’d like to thank Mrs. Peterson’s 4th grade class in Ephraim Elementary for bringing this carol back to life for me in 2003. You sang so well at that assembly. Even if Jennifer couldn’t stay on key and Neil would not stand up. Ah, I miss them. (Oh. and thank you Sufjan for the version I am most recently in love with.)

X Marks the Spot…Not.

X should not replace Christ.
X should not replace -anks.
X should not replace -ects.
X should not replace -ex.

in my dreams

i'm riding this.

Domesticating Complikate gives Katriarch a stomachache.

break my bones

Sometimes I get ill just thinking of mean things I've said or done or thought. Why on Earth would I ever be mean? Life is really hard and sad and tough just naturally without any additional meanies going around being mean. I've written lots of 'i'm sorry' letters lately but they'll likely never be sent. Because the recipients probably don't even remember or care and are mostly married or on their way to marriage or far away from me. Mostly I think I am mean with my apathy and with my words. Oh heavens. I hate meanness. I really cannot think of a single reason that would ever justify it.

I'm growing!

Amaryllis

day 1




day 15









day 21

I've been wracking my brain all week

For a reason to not dread going back to Utah tomorrow evening. And all I can come up with is the hard water. You heard me, the hard water. You know, so I can tell when the soap/shampoo is off my hands/hair (as opposed to the very soft water here in Henderson that has led me to my trial-by-error-count-my-rinses-and-trust-it system). That's really all I've got. Well, that and all my pending Christmas projects under my bed that I'll be cranking out this week. Yep, projects and hard water, that's what's keeping me going these days.

I'm glad I'm not on a mission right now.

There's nothing I'd rather 'lose' a friend to than a happy marriage.

i'm serious. It makes me really happy.

Then again...

It's hard to complain too much about anything that happened THE NIGHT I WON A BRAND NEW MACBOOK. Thanks Struck.

members only. psh.

So what if we're an hour and a half late...Where's the valet? The doorman? The coat-taker? The water-pourer? The bathroom towel hander-outer? The fresh salad and warm bread? The non-bloody filet mignon? The non-cold creme brulee minus the gigantic berries? The non-glaring waiter making us leave? I'm just saying. They can save their breath and bribery, I'll never join.

my new motto:

Always choose uncomfort.
So far, I think this applies to anything. Except clothing, obviously. I mean, choose a style thats not comfortable for you, but never have uncomfortable clothing on. You know what I mean. I don't even know what my old motto was.