Runaway Cinderella

Running from a perfect world, trying to find her wild side...


It's Coming Cloooooooserrrrrrrr....

So last night, T IMed me and said she wanted to say hi before she went to sleep and then FLEW.



Ugh. That just, BAM brought it home. Tina. Is. Flying. To. Boston. This whole KERNT thing? Really, really, really happening.

Crazy internet friends say WHAT?

Yeah. I'm coming. To New Jersey, to Erica, Ray, Niki, Tina, and the old Jonas haunts. UGH.

I. Am. Going. To. Die.




Schizophrenia of the teenage mind

So I kinda wish I knew what I was doing with myself. I mean, I enjoy not knowing most of the time, because it's quite an adventure. But there are some days it's like, you know what, I really wish I just KNEW today. Cuz it's all good when it's just simple stuff, fun stuff, and you can play with it and guess at it and it's okay. It's quite another when you're thinking, okay, this could affect my whole life and I just don't know what to do about it because I just don't know myself well enough.

I've got so many different people in me that I feel like a schizophrenic. Let's name a few. There's Trina, who's the little Martin girl everybody in her family knows, not perfect but not awful, kinda moderate in everything and not too prone to be different. Totally laid-back--totally insecure. And then there's Katrina, who's the elegant, spiritual, ladylike girl blossoming into a sweet and gentle lady. Seemingly perfect--but so bored and boring. And then there's Kat, who's wild, confident, outgoing, fun, and likeable. Excited with life--but in a very fragile, infantile stage right now. And I--whoever I am--am very confused at the moment. It's okay when I'm like, hmm, what's for breakfast, and Trina is okay with whatever's easiest, Katrina will stick with her morning standard, and Kat wants to experiment with something new and different.

But this is different. This is me trying to figure out if I'm falling in love again and, if I am, which of me is falling in love with which of them. I use falling in love loosely, more like falling in like, but it works. See, I thought I had made up my mind. But then, BAM, something unexpected came, something perfect and unexpected, and hello confusion because I can't believe I'm letting my heart do this again. I flip flop more than a politician or a hooked bass (yes, I just compared politicians to dying fish). It was like, LOVE, now friends, and suddenly LOVE again? I can't do that. I just can't. But I am. Every new word I say, it just gets worse.

And WHY do I keep going over and OVER this perfect, unexpected something? Get over it Kat/Trina/Katrina. You did your responding job. Stop hounding the ball when it's in his court. And stop panicking. There has rarely been a point when I finally get to the choice and I don't discover which to take somehow. So, IF the choice ever comes, which I'm thinking it may not but kinda hoping it does, I should do well enough. But right now? So confused and SO schizophrenic.

But despite what it sounds like, not depressed. At all. Kinda feeling good, actually. It's just that three of me are feeling good.


Quick SanFran Thoughts

"That's beautiful." It's a phrase I use so much around here. And it's true! There's so much beauty. But I haven't yet figured out if it's a facade of beauty cast over ugliness, like well done makeup on a scarred face, or a sheen of run down sadness glazing the face of pure loveliness, like a woman with the weight of stress and tiredness upon her perfect face.

It's in seeing a marvel like Coit Tower with a "safe surrender" baby drop off point two blocks below.

It's in a classy restaurant housed in a building that looks half a step from being condemned, or a stunning piece of architecture sprayed with graffiti. Under some beauty is ugliness, and under most ugliness, beauty. I had wondered why San Francisco was touted as a city of mystery, but now I begin to understand. It's mysterious because, apparently no matter how long you've lived here, you can never fully grasp it. Under every layer is another layer waiting for you. And just when you think you have it locked down, along comes something else, like walking down the street five times, then walking it at night and watching the whole atmosphere change instantly, from quaint, conservative shops to street musicians, strip joints, and nightclubs. It's seeing Chinatown transformed from a bustling shopping district and a culture of its own to a dingy, barely lit alley you wouldn't want to walk alone.

I love this city. The way the fog rolls in out of nowhere, how you freeze on one block and on the next you get sunburned. How 90 degree dry heat feels like the 70 degree humidity at home. The masses of humanity have a rhythm that sinks into your bones in no time. It's a rhythm and a pattern that makes you not even care that you walked ten miles in a day, thirty in a weekend. You don't care that you're solid ache from toes to knees or that your chest is burning like fire because of your ridiculous looking sunburn. You don't care that the wind has caused your hair to become one solid knot, or that you can't breathe after one too many hills.

Because, frankly, there's a reason this is a city where a one-bedroom condo costs over a million dollars. It isn't called one of the greatest cities in the world for nothing. It has its beauty and its ugliness, but that's because it's human. It's not just that it's filled with humanity. It's that the city itself seems to live, breathe, even move at times. It reflects the human condition, it brings out the worst in some people and the best in most.

I'm saying goodbye tomorrow, but, just like some people, there are some places you never forget.


I hear it's wonderful in California...

soooooo I'm going there!

Yes yes I am.

Tomorrow. 11:00 I leave here, 4:00 I arrive in Cleveland, Ohio. Next morning, too early for words, I depart for San Francisco, California.

And sometime in the week after that I will be forced to sit through an hour long lecture on vasculitis that my grandfather is giving. And I have to take notes.

BUT I will get to see the Golden Gate, walk Jonas ground (yes, there IS a pic of Joe on the Golden Gate, albeit in a car), and hang around one of the greatest cities in the world. Yep. Pretty awesome.

But I'm gonna miss my friends like crazy.

So I'll be missing you, it's true...

but tomorrow, I'm gonna fly...


Time For Me To Fly...

So the thought occurs to me: I better not plan on a career like the job I'm working right now. Because there is NO WAY on earth I should be so excited about quitting a job. Somehow I didn't mind it that much when I was working it, but the prospect of quitting it--even knowing I'll be heading off to yet another job less than a month afterwards--has me so excited that my Facebook status has been a countdown for the last four days. Maybe I just can't handle working with a boss whose outlook on life is so radically different than mine. But I think it's just that I hate the schedule.

Mama calls me her flower child. I'm like... a leftover leftover hippie, somehow. You know, minus the drugs, plus Jesus. I like freedom. I like being unrestrained. So having a job where I have to leave at 4:15 every single day... it chafes at me. So frankly? I'm done. I'll have it in college with classes and, I'm sure, a job. But afterwards? I want nothing to do with it. Hello, writing.

But that seems so stupid. Oh, I'll go get published and make my living as an author. Um, doesn't everybody in the world think they can write? A publishing house can get 100,000 manuscript submissions in a year and publish maybe 3 books. 3 lucky people get chosen... 99,997 people get left with disappointed dreams. Why should I assume I could be in that 3 or 4 instead of the 99,997?

But you know what? I'm sick of being in the 99,997 in life. Maybe this is my time, for once in my life, to be part of that 3. I guess I feel arrogant thinking I could do that. Yet SOMEONE has to be there. Why not me? It won't hurt anything but my pride to take a shot.


Hate That I Love You [[there's this boy...]]

DISCLAIMER: I'm not all depressed. Life is awesome right now. ONE WEEK before I get to quit my job and fly away to Cali. I'm just thoughtful.


So there's this boy. And I think I love him. Or, actually, I love the idea of him. Strong, talented, and passionate, determined to live life while he can. He's respectful, humble, and treats girls like ladies and not sex objects. He's handsome but not arrogant and always has a genuine smile. He's from a strong family and he adores his parents, keeps them in his life. Dream boy? Yep. Of course, he also happens to be a rock star who, if I ever meet him, will hug me quickly, sign my poster, and pass me on to his brother without a second glance. That's not so dreamy.

But you know what's worse than your dream boy being hopelessly inaccessible? Having several dream boys within easy reach--and none of them want you. I know at least three guys who equal and exceed my description above. They're so perfect, so wonderful, so easy to love--and to fall in love with. They call me their friend and their little sister--but never their girl. They'll make sure I don't get involved with a bad boy--but they'll never be the good guy I need to be with.

It makes me think. Why? Am I inaccessible, intimidating like my mom once told me? Aloof or seemingly disinterested? I do have a habit of being a little mean to guys when I don't know how to act around them. Or could it be that dream guys like them don't want someone so removed from the girl of THEIR dreams? I mean, let's face it, I'm no one's dream girl. One of those internet "What Kind of Girlfriend Are You" quizzes gave me a Dream Girl result--but I think I lied on how I would react if he cheated on me. I won't list my flaws, but let's just say they're numerous and apparently noticeable enough to keep me at little sister status.

Having a dream boy (or 2 or 3) at your fingertips and not being his is, to me, worse than seeing him from a distance--almost worse than never having him at all. Because now, every guy other than these perfections of mankind will be settling. And I'm OK with that when I'm settling for a normal guy instead of Kevin Jonas the rock star. But it's hard to settle when the man you're comparing to is right next to you, approving of your choice.

And, oh man, these boys, these wonderful boys, they would hate themselves if they knew their "little sister" felt like this because of them. Cuz see, there's this boy, and I wish he knew.
So while I hope with all my MIND they'll never see this, never know it's all about them... I wish with all my HEART that they would.