Un-Cooking: How to Eat in College!

I thought, once again, I'd impart some of my well-earned wisdom with you people. This time, instead of talking about men, school, or jobs (all of which I've obviously been HIGHLY successful in *rolls eyes*) I'll be talking about - that's right -

     FOOD! 

Finally, a topic on which I know what I'm talking about!

I know being 20 is hard, whether you're surviving dorm life, commuting from home because you're buh-roke, traveling to compete in national speech competitions (*glares at homeschooled friends*) or just sort of aimlessly jumping from job to job and hoping things work out... haha... of course I'm not talking about myself... ANYWAY, it's hard, dealing with all these transitions.

But you know what is constant through all that change?

     FOOD!

Here are some cooking tips and tricks I've learned in my many, many years months as a college student. Some of these acquired wisdoms occurred from my own trial and error, and some as a result of watching those around me. Roommates, friends, homeless people. You know.

SARAH'S 5 TIPS FOR SUSTENANCE:

1. You actually CAN take food from the cafeteria! Those blatant signs that say "DO NOT TAKE FOOD FROM THE CAFETERIA" are just tradition. There are certain staples that can be transferred from the cafeteria to your dorm fridge with ease. For example: milk, fruit, cereal, burritos, cookies, soup, and after some practice: ENTIRE PIES. 

2. If it says "Do NOT Microwave" ... there is a way to microwave it! I learned this from my own experience with a strange little packaged meal from some podunk grocery store in Cullowhee. Rather than walking ten steps to the oven in the common room next door, I simply transferred it to one of the empty Lean Cuisine trays that I'd finished and voila! Microwaved all the nutrients outta that little dude. And I recycled! *thumbs up!*

3. Pre-prepping makes a world of difference on this grumpy mornings.  I recommend that the night before your early classes, go ahead and add the nacho cheese on top of your chips. Put it in the microwave and set it for 30 seconds and then when you get up all you have to do is push "start" and it'll be ready by the time you've put your hair in a ponytail. BOOM! Cooking doesn't have to be scary or hard.

4. Microwaveable oat meal does NOT have to be microwaved! I know. It's surprising. But really, in those frequent rare moments when your redneck roommate is using the microwave to cook some... shall we just say... mini vienna sausages, well, you can just bung some milk on top of that packet and it will NOT be as bad as you are imagining.

5. Instead of food-groups, use the "how long can this sit out without going bad" rule! A quality meal may not contain protein, dairy, grains, and vegetables - let's face it. That's just unrealistic. However, I'm a firm believer that at least SOME of my diet needs to be perishable, and thus, less likely to mummify my arteries. An easy example would be: for every macaroni cup you have, try to add some *fresh* cheese on top as well. For every frozen pizza you cook, why not steal some *fresh* cilantro from the taco bar to add on top! Another fave is to top those microwave pancakes with butter, a perishable food, instead of syrup. SEE?! It's such a great rule! 

*BONUS TIP: Don't use air freshener to clean your microwave. I tried this as a last resort when no amount of hand soap would get the vienna sausage smell out of our microwave in my freshman dorm room. My roommate, fondly nicknamed "The Beast" never used our microwave again. So I guess this tip can go either way - don't use it if you want to get rid of the bad smell. However, if you want to passive-aggressively mark your territory, this is a great method! 

I hope these tips were helpful.  I hope some of you can learn from my mistakes and likewise, my glories. The bottom line when it comes to food in college is that we're all gonna gain weight, my friend. The freshman fifteen is not a cliche, it's a painful, shocking reality for most of us. I recommend not stressing it. The harder you fight to force those salads down the more likely you are to traumatize yourself into comfort eating five gallons of queso later that night. All things in moderation. Just remember my five tips and you will be OK! *gleaming smile*

Good luck, and if you have any tried and true college meals feel free to share! I myself am getting rather sick of macaroni cups.

"And I Question Myself AgaAiiAiain, What Is It About Men?"

(Ah, Amy Winehouse. You right, girl. You right.)

OKAY, so, the past few months, I'll admit, I've flirted with the idea of dating again.

DISCLAIMER: If you are a) male b) dating a male c) feel fondly towards a male d) think males are just sooooooo awesome or e) can't appreciate humor that makes fun of males, then PLEASE: 

STOP READING NOW! TURN BACK! RUN! GO LIFT WEIGHTS OR SOMETHING!

So, as I was saying, I've flirted with the idea of dating again, because, ya know. Homegirl gets lonely, has a lot of cute dresses, wants to go on dates to cutesy Chinese restaurants, be told she's the sun moon and stars to someone, get jewelry as a present instead of buying her own, etc. etc. etc.

But.

IT IS A REALLY TERRIBLE IDEA.

Let's face it. I don't understand men. *throws meticulously kept notebook filled with observations about men into the air*

I've had isolated incidents that just serve to further confuse, confound, distress, excite, upset, and unsettle me. Men are like cheesecake. I think I want it. I go out of my way to find it. I sit anxiously thinking about how much better my life would be if I had it. But then... I hate myself for it. I get a sugar high, I crash, I have MORE cheesecake, I weep, and then have really bad digestive problems for the next 16 hours. 

IT'S JUST NOT WORTH IT. Don't buy the cheesecake. DON'T DATE THE GUY.*

Seriously! I made myself a pros and cons list last week about men. I thought I'd share. Maybe this will also help you in determining whether or not you need a man in your life. Now keep in mind these pros and cons apply solely to men in the context of a romantic relationship. Brothers, friend's brothers, and "friends"** are all exempt from these. (For the most part.)

Cons:

-oblivious most of the time

-need a lot of food

-stinky sometimes

-bad jokes

-commitment problems

-you can't borrow their shoes 

-secretly needy, insecure, and afraid under their guise of toughness and masculinity

-they might be a serial killer 

-expensive at Christmas and anniversaries (put that money in a 401K, girlfriend!)***

Pros:

-good for clinging to in awkward social exchanges

-MIGHT buy you food every now and then (but you got your own $$$ so whatevs)

-helpful for opening jars, etc

As you can see, I put a lot of thought into this list. I hope it helps you in determining whether or not a man is a practical or important part of your life. Personally, I've decided love is a market. (Like the kind in economics.) When supply for men is low, demand can be too high, therefore increasing the value of men, and making you willing to pay a higher price for them. I've created a handy chart for you:

And there you have it! Obviously, by combining my pros and cons list with my "The Market For Men" chart and also taking into account personal experience, I'm SURE we can all agree that we are now well equipped to make some great life choices regarding men. But seriously girl, EVALUATE EVALUATE EVALUATE!

footnotes:

*Obviously some people can handle cheesecake. And men. Some of us, though, are young, impressionable, and far too delicate to eat rich desserts and expose our female natures to insensitive galoots who will most likely trample on our hearts.

**The jury may still be out on whether "friends" of a male nature are truly exempt from this list.

***Just think. As you hold that 100 dollar bill over the counter of the Monogrammed Everything store, think to yourself: in 50 years this guy you're buying this present for will probably be long gone. But Benjamin Franklin will never cheat on you, leave you, or have a mid-life crisis and grow a mullet. THINK ABOUT IT. Start a savings account.

Do You Smell Poop: A Story About Working At The YMCA

Well, tonight I stumbled into work at five minutes 'til six, eagerly awaiting a fun night of crafts, snacks, and movies with a crowd of precious little Lambs of God.

Womp womp.

There was a slight scent of disaster in the air the moment my boss pulled out a box filled with eggs and FOOD COLORING. And then-- IT COULDN'T BE--- an assortment of

LOOSE GLITTER, AHHHHH!

Aw cruddles.

The kids trickled in, some bringing their pajamas, some bringing their stuffed animals, ALL BRINGING THEIR DEVIOUS INTENTIONS.

Parents' Night Out is a particular phenomenon that happens at the YMCA every now and then. Parents drop their kids off for a few hours and then are free to go out into the world and partayyy. Meanwhile, instead of the usual chaos cluster that we have in the mornings, where the kids roam free, hitting each other with toys and pooping in their pants behind the dress-up rack, Parents' Night Out provides a new, fresh sense of failure-- the kind where all your best laid plans have gone completely awry.

Is it better to have no plans and let the disaster happen naturally while you helplessly watch? Or better to have a master-plan of chaos-prevention only to see it be stomped on gleefully by stinky toddlers?

I haven't decided yet either... but the outcome is the same. There are three basic consequences of either situation:

1. Poop: Someone's poop. Somewhere. On something. If I got paid extra every time I heard a coworker say "Do you smell poop?" I wouldn't even need this job anymore.
2. Tears: Of children, but also of staff. (Inwardly during your shift. And then maybe literally, in the car on the drive home while you reflect on the evening you had.)
3. Rage: Yes. It's inevitable.

Tonight, when I wasn't grabbing loose tins of glitter out of fat little hands, squeezing pudding out of hair, or giving death glares to my arch-nemesis (he's four and he hates my guts), I almost DID enjoy watching the chaos unfold around me like a sad, sad little house of cards getting knocked over. (By a baby. Because that's how it works at the Y.) It's honestly quite entertaining watching kids interact with each other when external factors like

LOOSE GLITTER,  AHHHHH!

are involved.

There was one small victory of the evening. My aforementioned arch-nemesis stuck a plastic googly eye up his nose. Now of course I ADORE all my kids at the Y. Even the troublemakers. But there was something, an undeniable SOMETHNG I felt as I watched my coworker gawking at his nasal cavities with a flashlight. No, it couldn't be satisfaction. Absolutely not.

Well, somehow, googly eye incident aside, the evening went off without TOO many more hitches, and I found myself sitting in front of an animated movie with a cute little girl on my lap. This particular child brightens my world. She's a role model for me for sure. Tonight I told her she was pretty and she simply let out a nonchalant sigh and squeaked "Yeah I know". Homegirl ain't got no insecurities.

And then, finally, one by one, the kids (now in pajamas, devious intentions toned down to an unintentional knack for trouble) padded away down the YMCA hallway with their parents, off to their stinky cars and their stinky houses and their stinky beds. And I leave the YMCA at ten a stronger, better, more sparkly person than I was at six.

Ways College Has Changed Me (So Far)

     Some thoughts on the impact my first two years of college have had on me.

     College Challenged My Worldview!
   
     Some of my beliefs and opinions have been strengthened by being challenged, and some of them were, well, dismantled. I feel lucky for having had a variety of different college classes (and FRIENDS) that presented vastly differing stances on the same issues. It was really good for me to get a chance to see multiple sides of the same issue. Even though all THREE of the colleges I've taken classes in have fallen in different places on cultural/political/moral spectrums, I've gleaned value from them all and taken parts of each as pieces of my own worldview.

     College Made Me Appreciate The Peeps That Matter!

     So far, I've attended colleges in three states (two of them living hours away from home!) and as for the two that took me away from home, making friends was really hard each time. I HATED one city/school and ADORED the other, but both presented their challenges in finding my place there among the people and the structure. College really, really, REALLY has made me evaluate people in a new way. I've been hurt by people in college in new ways, and it's shown me the true importance of my family (and that darling inner circle of friends... you know if you're in my inner circle!) and the people that respect, trust, and love me unconditionally. Also I just really missed my mom. Who doesn't?!

     College Gave Me Freedom to Exercise My Own Judgement!

     My very first night in a dorm room presented me with a conflicting moral situation. And, well, I made the right decision. (I did NOT smoke the weed! I did NOT shoplift! I did NOT let that girl use my phone to call her angry ex-boyfriend! My first night in college was really stressful.) But seriously, college is sooooo full of good opportunities to make choices. As was high school, and probably any other period in life, but for ME, moving away to college was like stepping into a giant room filled with "DO NOT TOUCH" buttons, some of which I touched. But hey. I learned.

     College Taught Me Not to Talk About Politics!

     BAH! In middle and high school I was little political freak just waiting for someone I could wave my political freak flag at! In college I quickly learned that talking about politics is the QUICKEST way to either a) make a really intense best friend by bonding through your mutual rage or b) turn everyone in your political science classes into mortal enemies. I now do neither. Well, that's a lie. There are approximately two people I talk politics with, including my dad. (Here's your shout-out, Nick. Congratulations about knowing my top-secret political opinions. Ooooh ahhh!) But seriously I don't talk about politics with people because I don't want to get shot. People believe what they believe and I see no point in creating enemies when those enemies are 19 year old girls who truly and honestly believe they have the key to fixing the nation. (Or 50 year old professors, for that matter...)

     College Showed Me New Sides of Myself!

     To be perfectly honest, college has been pretty crappy so far. It's not entirely college's fault, thought. YEAH, no, a lot of it was my fault. If I could go back and change things, I WOULD. But. There's no doubt that college has stretched, matured, and changed me in drastic ways. I've learned so much about who I am now: thanks to pain, suffering, horrible relationships, and living within walking distance of Taco Bell! (UGH.) I've ended my first two years of college with a new-found sense of clarity and honesty about my life and my identity. Curious to know the new sides of myself that I found? I made a list for you. You're welcome.
     1. I'm waaaa-haaay too dependent on affirmation from people around me. (But I'm working on it!)
     2. I'm smart. (My 4.0 is one of my proudest achievements. Shallow, I know.)
     3. I'M SMART, YET I KNOW NOTHING
     4. I'm not ready to date anyone*
     5. EVERYTHING. I mean everything** is temporary.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY RATHER GENERIC DISCOVERIES ABOUT LIFE MENTIONED IN THIS BLOG POST. FEEL FREE TO COMMENT BELOW WITH YOUR OWN GENERIC COLLEGE EXPERIENCES. I'D LOVE TO READ THEM SO I CAN FEEL AFFIRMED BY ATTENTION FROM YOU***

Footnotes:

*Unless that person is the busker mentioned in my previous post "Libraries and Ice Cream Etc."
**Except death. AVOID DEATH!
***Ugh I'm so needy

Playing House, Eating Carrot Cake

I've spent the past few days dog-sitting in a quaint little home in Hendersonville, the town I grew up in. I've had this charming abode all to myself, and it's been an interesting week. I've had some trouble falling asleep under a fluffy white duvet that isn't mine, and each morning I get up to wrestle with a coffee maker I don't understand.

But, all in all, it's been a quiet week, with many of my hours spent alone on a bed that is equal parts fluffy white duvet and black-lab hairs. Scout, the bestower of those hairs, is a very large, very easy-going dog, MOST OF THE TIME. Today I unlocked the front door and stepped into the living room to find Scout sitting forlornly in the middle of his humans' packages-- which were torn to shreds, the contents (decorations for an 8 year old's birthday party) scattered everywhere.

Aside from this incident, I've enjoyed staying here. It's nice to come home and have shouting matches with myself. No. Seriously. It's really fun to be able to come in the house, kick off my shoes dramatically, and flop down on the bed screaming "WHY MEEEEEEEE WHY WHY WHY" and then eat chips while crying. I can do this at home, of course, but there's something about having the freedom to do it in solitude that really makes those freak-out sessions fulfilling. Today, I came in, threw down my purse, and started singing Bad To The Bone and doing a victory dance.

Because?

Because, last night, I made the terrifying discovery that I was, in fact...

REGISTERED FOR COLLEGE CLASSES.

All this time! Since January 8th! I've been registered for random ECON classes and had no idea, blissfully ignorant to the fact that my deferment had somehow gotten lost between the admissions office and the registrar. I've made a dandy impression on four professors as a total loser who doesn't show up to class. But, a few tears in the OneStop office in front of the right people, and I got it resolved today. If only colleges were like hotels, and gave you free things when you throw a fit. How lovely it would have been if Daniel from Admissions had come back out of his superior's office with a coupon for 3 free credit hours to use during my next semester, as a token of apology for the TERRIBLE CUSTOMER SERVICE that I experienced.

Alas, the only reparation I received was a piece of carrot cake... that I got for myself.

Come on, UNCA!

I now have an even bitterer taste in my mouth towards this school, but I'm trying to hope for the best. Who knows! Maybe registration next week will go off without a hitch. Maybe things will go smoothly as I transition there in the fall. Maybe I won't get burned at the stake for my opinions on Bernie Sanders.

Miracles happen.

At least, after a very stressful day of crying in offices, I can come home to a charming little house where I can eat as many chips as I want without judgement, dance around in my underwear, and talk to myself. Life is good.

Appropriate Emoji Use (A Seminar with Sarah Kane)

1. The Basic Smiley

   
This all-purpose emoji is safe for use in any conversation with any level of friend!
Tension Level: 0*
Risk Factor: 0
Best Uses: Your mom, guys you really don't want to go out with
Pairs well with: thumbs up

2. The Grimacing Smiley

    

Use this emoji to express discomfort and uncertainty without coming across too strong!
Tension Level: 0.7
Risk Factor: 1
Best Uses: Your boss, people in your group projects
Pairs well with: crying face

3. The Winky Face



Exercise caution when deploying this emoji. The Winky Face has extreme powers of flirtation and ambiguity. When used correctly, it CAN drive people to the point of insanity.
Tension Level: 48
Risk Factor: 29
Best Uses: THOSE friends, people you find attractive, siblings
Pairs well with: kissy face, shades face

4. The Kissy Face


This emoji is powerful, though in a less threatening way than the winky face.
Tension Level: 18
Risk Factor: 21
Best Uses: BFFS, people you want to torture with the power of suggestion, your mom
Pairs well with: Heart eyes, ring emoji

5. Heart Eyes



This emoji... sigh. Use this for special people, and anyone you want to make feel special for your own devious purposes of manipulation. 
Tension level: 4
Risk Factor: 4
Best Uses: people you feel committed to, coworkers that cover for you, your mom
Pairs well with: kissy face, winky face**

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Be careful out there with your emojis. Improper emoji use has led to many of our current generational problems. I'd like to caution you against emoji abuse. Especially with emojis of a sensitive nature, including but not limited to:

Winky Face
Heart Eyes
Dancing Salsa Girl***
Passive Aggressive Smiley



Footnotes:

*The Basic Smiley may look similar to Passive Aggressive Smiley. It all depends on context. They may be the same image but they do NOT carry the same meaning! Carefully over-analyze your messages before determining whether this emoji is Basic Smiley or Passive Aggressive.

**USE CAUTION WHEN PAIRING THE WINKY FACE AND HEART EYES. This combination is completely safe only with BFFS. Your mom may not understand it, causing undue amounts of explanation, and any potential partners may get IDEAS and ask for CLARIFICATION. BEWARE!!!

***This one:

Libraries and Ice Cream Etc.

Today I wore one of my cute new t-shirts and felt very fetching. So naturally, I had to go out somewhere.

But then, there's the problem of a decided lack of company.

But then again, I know this problem well and just went by myself. It was possibly better this way, as I could play the music as loudly as I wanted to, and didn't have to live with the humiliation that would have followed had anyone witnessed a certain malfunction of a "one-way" in the parking garage (I was the malfunction). I guess you could say it all worked out.

I parked behind the Pack Library, which I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW EXISTED and wandered for a while among the stacks. Then I realized, after assembling a nice pile of books, that I couldn't check them out because we just moved to a new county, and my Henderson County Library card is now tragically obsolete.

So, no books in tow, I headed for Marble Slab and bought myself a "I'm sad" ice cream. It was great. You could really taste the self-pity, and the hint of cynicism really complimented the flavors of disillusionment. Marble Slab never lets me down!

After my ice cream, I fell asleep on the steps of the Pack Park stage, and was awoken by a very nice policeman who "was just making sure I wasn't dead or in a coma". So polite! And then, I fell in love with a charming crowd of buskers. The lead singer was quite flirtatious and I was wearing a new shirt and felt cute, so, I was flirtatious* too.

Buskers always fascinate me. It's always struck me as amazing that people on the street will pay cash out of their pockets to someone playing a guitar on the curb. We skimp and complain about the silliest fees for a place to park our car, etc, but we throw cash at strangers that we aren't obligated to! It's great, though. If I could sing, you BETCHA I'd do it. And if pianos were more portable, you betcha I'd be out there doing that. Some Elton John on the street corner would be very well received, I think.

So, I stared into the eyes of this dreamy busker for a while, and then carried on with my day, which included nothing exciting. (A trip to the post office, a few phone calls, eating a lot of cheese. The usual.)

And, folks, that's just a day in the life of Sarah Kane for you. It's been good for me to come face to face with the realities of my life apart from all the things that used to give it meaning. Friends, school, etc. Kidding. My life doesn't have to include or disclude those things in order to be defined as "my life". My life simply is what it is. And today, it was walking alone downtown.

It was a good day. And it's going to keep getting better, as I still have a half block of aged white cheddar in the fridge and that block can only get smaller as the day goes on.



*The meaning of the word "flirtatious" in terms of ME is not that exciting. It just means I forwent the usual scowl of disdain I would give a cute guy. What can I say. I really fell for him.

Stupidity Exposure Therapy

Last night, during my routine "drive around listening to Cat Stevens and contemplating the meaning of life" session, I made a new stop:

U N C A

That's right. My SCHOOL. My school I haven't actually attended yet, due to an unfortunate incident with the admissions office losing my application and then it being too late to register for classes, etc etc etc.

We're not off to a great start, me and this school.

So why did I drive there at 9pm? Well, it's been extremely nice to have a noticeable deficit in the areas of a few things in my life: peers, stupidity, peers, people my age, my peers, college students, oh and also stupidity. Did I mention that?

I haven't missed those things one bit! And honestly, I'm worried that when I start school again in the fall, after nearly a *YEAR* off, that I'll go into shock and possibly die from the inability to handle so much of my peers and their stupidity.

Thus, I've decided to routinely drive to UNCA and make a few laps around campus, hoping that the exposure helps rebuild my immunity and my tolerance level for these aspects of college life I so intensely dislike.

Maybe if I watch enough people vaping, hear enough dumb conversations, and smell enough bad cafeteria food, I'll build my ability to put up with it. Because right now, I'm about one dumb conversation about Bernie Sanders away from burning down some buildings.

So, hopefully my plan for Stupidity Exposure Therapy works, because I need to DESENSITIZE DESENSITIZE DESENSITIZE!

BREAKING: Sarah Kane Exposed!

ANNOUNCEMENT:

I'm a fraud.

(And hey, that's okay, because you are too. More on that later.)

In the six months that I've been home from Atlanta, I've been working on maintaining a carefully crafted version of myself to present to you. All of you. Friends, family, strangers, doctors, pastors, coworkers, kids, grocery store cashiers, Starbucks baristas, people in the comments section of this blog, EVERYONE.

Simply put, I'm faking it. I have a stash of smiles I keep close at hand for those awkward silences following the question, "Weren't you studying in Atlanta? Why are you home?"

It's been really, really, really, really hard to answer that question. If I was honest, I'd be able to pull out a 178 page manuscript detailing all the events of my life that led me to that place in Atlanta, and ultimately contributed to the trauma that brought me home.

The truth is, not even my parents and best friends know all the gory details that haunt me daily. There's a story-- actually, a lot of stories-- that are the reason behind my exact situation today.

But it's not appropriate, nor productive, it seems, to pull out that manuscript and start listing off depressing, scary, confusing, overwhelming, heavy reasons. So, I have instead created a nice, tidy explanation for everything. Until last night, actually! (Ooh, convenient!)

Last night, I sat in a cozy living-room with four other women, all gathered together with the intention of telling our stories over the course of several weeks. It's meant to be a safe place to make sense of our lives. I know none of these women personally, and they are all in vastly different walks of life from me. But I'm excited. Because I'm so sick of being a fraud.

I'm ready to remember who is underneath "Sarah Kane taking a gap year and recovering from a bad semester". She's far too simple and shallow. She's sickening full of explanations, excuses, "it's okay though"s, and smiles. I'm ready to cry in front of people, because I deserve to do that much, if I really believe that my messy, imperfect self is worthy of love and compassion.

I guess that's what I'm getting at by this post:

I need to stop being scared of my messy realities, because I am WORTH the work it will take to unravel my questions, sorrows, and traumas. 

That is what I'm getting at.

Oh, that and:

We are all frauds! I'm well aware that every time I run into you in Ingles and ask "how are you?" your answer is probably partly, if not entirely, a lie. "I'm good! Things are good!" may be true, and if it is, lucky you! But maybe it's not. And I understand you have a crafted version of yourself that you pull out during run-ins like that. Who can blame you? It's the way it is. It's called "socially acceptable behavior".

But when you've got a trauma, or even just mild heartache brimming beneath the surface, over time you start to feel detached from yourself. I feel like I've started pulling out over-simplified explanations for my OWN sake. Like when I look in the mirror, there's a fake smile there for MYSELF, too.

And that's scary, because I don't want to lose myself, and that part of myself that is always so ready to DEAL with me. (Cuz, duh, I'm me and I have to!) If I can't deal with myself, love myself, try to have compassion for myself, how can I ever accept/expect those things from those around me?

That's why every Tuesday night you'll find me eating brownies and cheese cubes in a room filled with honest, crying ladies. It's a safe place, a platform for honesty, a short term commitment to people with long-term expectations of respect, kindness, acceptance, and honesty. I'm excited to talk, but also to listen-- to ask someone "how are you?" and get the treasure of HONESTY in response.

I strongly recommend that if you are feeling overwhelmingly like a fraud, that you find someone to be utterly, painfully honest with. You're worth their time.

Here's Some Words to Add to Your Collection

Last night it rained on my drive home. It rained rain, but it also rained words. As it always does.

We are completely flooded by words, 24/7, 365. It rains words from the radio, from billboards, from every sign on every product in every aisle in any store-- in rains words in the conversations of passing couples, in beeps and buzzes every time our phones light up with communication, it rains down our computer screens and TVs and off magazines on the table in the doctor's office and pamphlets left on our car windshields and from our piles of textbooks and papers and syllabi.

Even just right now, I'm drowning in words. My own, partly, but mostly the words of others'. Right now from my perch on the couch I'm bombarded with thousands of words, all of which are completely irrelevant to my life. There's approximately 30729 magazines piled on our coffee table, on anything from home decorating to summer dresses.

On my computer, I have three tabs other than this one I'm writing in--Gilmore Girls is playing in one, facebook sits idle, loading and reloading, and my email is in another. And so MANY of these words are irrelevant or excessive to my life. Opinions crafted carefully to be presented to the masses on social media, marketing, entertainment, information, information, INFORMATION...

BLAHGUgfiugskhdfilsjpooeibevdhwieh;wpjfoeanfjbavBHSCJDOSKOkps,mknklbja!

OVERLOAD!

And of course, I'm adding to your personal deluge of words right now. You, right now, are making your brain a vessel for the words (and by words, I mean opinions, motives, and values) of someone who may or may not have any real impact on your day.

Is that bad?

Maybe??! I DON'T KNOW?! Personally, I feel currently overwhelmed with all the communication in the world. It's enough to make me want to run into the woods and sit on some tree roots and listen to the wind blowin' and the birds and all that great stuff.

I would last maybe.... an hour.

I just wonder... what is REALLY going on in my brain? Underneath ALL THOSE WORDS that aren't mine or even those of people that matter to me. They're all random, and most of them motivated by the hope that I'll buy a product, vote for a politician, or validate someone's feelings.

Without all that, what's really going on in our brains? What am I feeling? What am I thinking? What do I believe? What do I WANT that isn't somehow influenced by all the words I'm reading every second of the day?

Think about it. I told you to, after all.

Places I've Cried: WESTERN CAROLINA UNIVERSITY

** Introduction:

I've been wanting to do a series on my blog about the myriad of unique, memorable places I've called my own in the past few years. Now. "Places I've Cried" may lead you to think the place is all bad-- that's simply not always true. But most of the time, it'll be true. Haha. 

Please enjoy part one of this series in which I recall my first year away from home, my first time sharing a room, and my first time having unparalleled access to queso and chips. **

WESTERN CAROLINA UNIVERSITY (Cullowhee, North Carolina)

AKA: "The Whee"

Right off the bat this nickname was fated to be abused by me in my yet-to-exist blog posts. The school uses the nickname to be clever-- a LOT. Every club has a subtitle of "Whee Do This Or That". Whee Study! Whee Party Smart! Whee Recycle! Of course, if you're me, the clubs you joined freshman year were more along the lines of Whee Hang Ourselves or Whee Have No Friends.

It's not that my experience here was bad. It's just... It was AWFUL. A nightmarish nine months in the life of Sarah Kane, from orientation onwards.

Orientation STANK, because I quickly realized almost everyone starting their freshman year at Western was from a public school in my own hometown. The same public school I made it my life-purpose in high school to AVOID. All throughout my classy four years as a high school student, I made it a point to surround myself with fully grown, corrupt college students, who personally I found reliable in their dysfunction, unlike high school students, who were still unsure of just how terrible and thoughtless they could be.

So, of course, I found myself looking around the present company during orientation and rolling my eyes. One girl was bragging about her shoplifting experience, people left and right were asking me if I was a lesbian (if a girl asked me, I said no. If a guy asked me, I just shrugged), and constantly adults were getting on my last nerve by draping me in celebratory mardi-gras beads and cheap sunglasses.

So, orientation just REEKED of school spirit and over-excited freshman, and then reality truly hit when I moved into my dorm that fateful week in August. If you followed me on facebook during this critical time in my growth as a human, you all know about DEANNA CANIPE. I'm not even sure how you say her last name, but I prefer to pronounce it "Kuh-NIPE-uhhyousuucckk!" Deanna, was, God bless her, an angry little soul. She hated me. I hated her. It was a great match. But seriously, WCU lost what little faith I had placed in them when they matched me with her. We were the opposite on EVERYTHING, from schedule to music choices to personal boundaries... everything.

Quickly, very quickly (we're talking, forty minutes?) my life spiraled into a kind of Hell. Now, you would think a girl would be able to find solace from her living companions in the outside world of the college, but that simply wasn't the case for me. I distinctly remember looking out the window of my dorm and seeing six rednecks sitting on my car, drinking. Well. I pushed the lock button until it honked and they peed themselves, but sadly, most situations were not able to be solved in this manner.

Rednecks. Were. Everywhere.

No matter where I walked on campus, there were rednecks. I thought I was from a redneck area of North Carolina. No. No I wasn't. THIS was redneck county.

I eventually gave up on campus as a place of learning and enlightenment, and turned to the local town for some kind of light in my life. There was a bookstore I frequented, and the delightful gay man who worked the desk was probably my best friend freshman year. Other than the bookstore, there was a little tea place I went, and that was all good fun, until the hippies who worked there hit on me and I got too scared to go back. So most of the time, I went to the bookstore, paid too much for a coffee, and sat there listening to Queen through my headphones and reading about local history.

Now it sounds like I don't have any friends at this point.

I didn't.

Well, I did, at first. I made friends with some really nice peeps, except... well... who even KNOWS what happened. I still don't know. One of them decided to hate me, overnight, and turned my social group completely against me. I'm not bothered by it now, because looking back, I really couldn't afford to lose any more brain cells in those relationships. There were, however, a few people who survived and that I still consider good peeps. Shout-out to James, who I had jam sessions with up until I left WCU, and Deborah, who truly is a shining star in the midst of Western.

And of course, there are those typical college nights I'll forever live to romanticize. Sledding down hills on dumpster lids, late night talks with friends on a bench by the elevator, driving to the dollar store and buying inflatable dinosaurs with my grocery money... all fond memories. But I still throw up in my mouth a little when I think about them, because WESTERN.

If you love Western Carolina, don't hate me for hating it. Some people love it there. I just had far too many negative experiences in my short time there for it to be redeemed by any amount of free t-shirts or Honor's College Barbecues.

Hallelujah! SHE HAS RISEN FROM THE DEAD!

Today, for a pleasant change, I write this from... my bed. (So no change.)

SURPRISE!

But-- it's not my deathbed anymore. There's still a slight vibe of death and decay in here, I suppose I should open the blinds sometime, but something groundbreaking happened today.

I. Breathed. Through. Both. Nostrils!

*applause* Thank you, thank you! *curtsies* I'd like to thank Vick's Vaporub, and also my family, for not murdering me in my sleep after keeping them up all week with my horrendous cough!

So, how have I been celebrating my new-found health? I started watching Gilmore Girls, OBVIOUSLY. Truth be told, I've avoided even considering it as an option, because a pooper of a person in my past told me it was stupid. (Well, now we know how seriously I take HIS opinion.) Now, I like this show! It's some nice light viewing for me while I sit in bed wrapped in a towel and give myself a scalp massage. (Oh, and stare at the piles of half-sorted laundry on my floor, dreaming of the day when I'll make that treacherous hike up the basement stairs to the washer and dryer.)

So, enough about my pathetic reality, what kind of useless thoughts are running through your head today, Sarah?

Well, Sarah, since you asked.. *hair flip* honestly... not much...

SARE-RUH! You mean to tell me you've had four days of sitting in your bed on drugs and you don't have ANY DEEP THOUGHTS?

....Yeessh. TBH, I lost five pounds this week, and I think it's all brain cells. LAAAAME!

So what productive, useful things do I plan on doing today? Well I'll tell you. This isn't going to be easy. But I've got to do it. Today,

I'M GOING TO PUT ON PANTS.

I know! I know. It might be too much. Maybe I'm an overachiever. Maybe I'm pushing myself too hard. But I don't play this game called life half-heartedly. Go big or go back to bed, that's what I say. And I've had way too much time sitting naked on my bed using my pants as a really lumpy neck pillow. It's time. Time to put on pants.

Pray for me, it's been too long since denim-- or even a soft, forgiving form of cotton-- touched these ghastly white limbs. This may ruin my day. But it also could make it so much better. For instance... I'll be able to go upstairs and make sure my family is still alive. There's good things up there. Like a fridge. And windows... Pants are my ticket to the real world.

I'M PUTTING ON PANTS!

PANTS! PANTS! PANTS! PANTS! PANTS! PANTS! PANTS! PANTS!

Welcome back to the real world, Sarah Kane. Welcome back.

Final Will and Testament of Sarah Kane

Flu Diaries
March 11th, 2016

Still no better here aboard the S.S. Kane after days of battling this grave illness. Parents are both in foul moods, sister is hiding at friends' houses, and I now weigh less than I did the day I graduated from high school (no complaints). Possibly have scurvy due to only consuming rice and ginger ale for 3 days. Fever seems to have broken, yet I still feel the chills and sweats. Is it possible to get sunburned by your own body-heat?

I threw up in Wal-mart today. That was delightful. I had to go there to buy bubble mailers because apparently my Etsy store decided to explode overnight, and I am way behind shipping out product and don't wish to be sued. I realized, amidst the turbulence of my innards, that I have become one of "THOSE" people in Wal-mart. The girl in sweat-pants and slippers, carrying a pack of bubble mailers and sitting on the floor rocking back and forth ignoring everyone who walks by. You know.

Still no hope that I'll be mended by tomorrow-- as much as I strongly desire to rejoin my comrades in my various places of employment. I had a great week, nay, a FANTASTIC week, until about midnight on Tuesday night when crrrrrrrrrruuuud went down.

If you're reading this, send help. I need help brushing my hair as it is very tangly and I have no upper arm strength left. Also need someone to make me toast. And reply to all my emails. Though why bother, as this may be one of my last days on earth anyway.

If I don't make it out of all this alive, I leave my Etsy store to Kathryn Williams, the advertisement earnings from this Blahg to Kara Waldbart, all my completed Micro-Economics homework to Nicholas Zeegers, my collection of books to Mary Gwaltney, and my absurd assortment of unused yarns to Matt Ausley. I hereby appoint Kristen Williams as the executor of this will, because I trust her and she is smart. Take whatever you want, Kristen.

GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD.

I Wanna Love. BUT I'M SO SCARED!

Ahhhh, love. CAN ANYONE TELL ME WHAT IT EVEN IS! I won't get into that question right now, because it's one I've struggled with throughout the past six years of my life. "Love" in and of itself may be simpler than we think, but it's often accompanied so strongly with varying components that make it a bit more complicated. It's not the LOVE that makes a relationship complicated, maybe it's the honesty, the desire, the struggle with selfishness, or truth, or discipline... or trust.

Trust is the thorn in the side of my "love" at the moment. My trust has been shattered by a variety of things over the years, as most of you can probably relate to. There were little things that started the decline-- friends talking behind your back in middle school, your bestie harboring bitterness until it explodes in a big old fight, your church youth group letting you down in your time of need, yada yada... but then sometimes there's something big. Something that knocks the wind out of you. Like being abused, over the course of years, by a trusted authority figure.

And so. Here I am. Safe now, and out of all that, but still carrying a deep-set collection of shame, distrust, and fear.

How do I know what's really going on in people's hearts? Once-- many times-- I thought I knew people's hearts to be filled with love and Christ and a desire to care for me and others. And once-- I uncovered darkness, perversion, disrespect, lies, and just pure HORROR in a relationship I had once viewed as safe.

So. Now I struggle. Maybe I've become that dreaded term we all use to talk about our detached crush-- a COMMITMENT PHOBE. I was riding home from a friend's house with a buddy the other night, and we had a talk about how utterly scary commitment is. I think we were coming at it from different places. I know his life and situation are so different from mine, but I still resonated with the words he said. "Commitment is terrifying."

For me, at least, it's terrifying because I just don't have as high a level of trust I used to. I just don't think I can commit to someone without a secret fear that BAM, surprise! They're actually satan! AND NOW YOU'RE SUPER HURT AGAIN! *Scream of terror and despair*

But even on the smaller level-- it's hard to open myself to friends in a purely platonic way, because I'm still worried I will be "wasting" my love and affection. What if I lose them? Or we end up hating each other? Or they just... never really know and cherish me the way I think they do.

So, what do I do? I hold back my love. I distribute carefully measured quantities that I'm pretty sure I'm getting back in some way or another. I try to be smart, cautious, and calculated in my friendships, constantly evaluating and contrasting between people to try and figure out: who really loves me?

I hate it.

I deserve better for myself than this scrooge-y way of loving, and my friends deserve better from me. Moreoever-- I don't think this is how Jesus wants me to live. Does he want me to use my intellect, instinct, and guidance from the Holy Spirit to determine what friendships are healthy and valuable for me to pour my energy into? WELL DUH! But I don't think he wants me adding up tabs after a night of hanging out and deciding how much my friends love me and if it's worth my time. That's just ridiculous.

I wrote this poem back in high school. Maybe it's really bad, but I think the words are true. Here's the first snippet. The rest gets a bit cray so I won't share it.

People make people into banks.

I put everything I had into him

And waited for the day I’d get my check.

And then I figured love is not a debt

Love is not settled like a score.

Love is not for clean black ledgers 

Love is like a messy sea that pushes up against a shore

Even though the shore will always push it back.

As I struggle to trust that I won't be trampled on by my loved ones, I am constantly trying to remember the reason I love those around me at all-- God. He first loved us, after all. When we were yet sinners. DANG! There was a verse in church yesterday that I simply adored. "And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." (Romans 5:5) Now, yes, this verse wasn't meant in the exact context of friendship that I'm talking about-- it's about salvation-- but the words rang sooooo truuuuee for my yesterday and made me think more about the things I talked about on that care ride home: 

I love people because God loves me. Loving people is how I love (and know) God. I trust God, even when I struggle to trust people. I love those around me confidently, with the hope that wherever they fall short in loving me back, God never will. And all those other complicated aspects of relationships that taint the simple, lovely concept that love is... well. I'll keep wrestling with those and let ya know what I come up with.

In closing: you are loved. Definitely by God. And maybe even by me. 

Bravery... It's Not What I Thought It Was!

I was just thinking this morning, as I lay snuggled in my friend Kathryn's bed after a late night with friends,  about who I was three years ago versus who I am today. The last several weeks, as I've adjusted back into the same friend group I had before I went off to college, I've really been faced with Past Sarah, since she's who I left behind and she's who people think they're getting when I walk into a room I haven't been in for three years. Lemme tell ya about it.

Last night, I went with my delightful friends Kat, Kristen, and Jordan down to Saluda. I hadn't been to the Halls' campground since 2013, and I was filled with memories and nostalgia of my "free" days back in high school. I look back and want to say that I'm now a more scared, withdrawn, "weak" person than I was then.

This is not the case.

As the girls and I walked down the gravel roads past the lake I realized that I am only stronger, smarter, and yes-- braver than I was. I used to think being brave meant always making the riskiest choice, for the greatest reward. Being brave meant going on a date with a cool guy because maybe it would work out and I just had to be confident go for it, even if I knew it was probably a terrible idea. Being brave meant taking a crazy unplanned trip out of town just because I could. "Brave" and "crazy" were practically synonyms.

I thought I was being brave when I jumped into things last year. (School, relationships...haircuts? yada yada!) Now, though, don't think I was brave.  I think I was foolish. Being brave isn't being foolish in the hopes that you won't suffer consequences because somehow you are exempt from them.

I now think I have a level of wisdom I didn't have then. And the risks I take are risks built on trust, faith, and intelligence. They're different risks. They're more decisions I DON'T make than decisions I do. I've learned the art of waiting, listening, and evaluating. I've learned to say no to things that I once thought "yes" was the brave answer to. Maybe it's braver to turn down exciting things because you know it's better for yourself in the end. It's certainly harder. Bravery isn't a brash confidence-- it's a deliberate choice that goes against your natural instinct. Whether that instinct is to hold back, go forward, speak your mind, or stay quiet-- thinking bravely is when we use our intellect to determine it will take a choice out of our comfort zone to create the best outcome. And then the follow through is when we make a brave decision and act on that rationale.

Just some jumbled thoughts I had this morning and needed to get off my chest. Be brave, friends. Whether it's making a leap or staying still, don't make those choices based on weakness and fear or even impulse and desire. Be smart and be brave.

Observations from a Snowy Day in March

Today was a lovely, quiet day. After work, during which I mostly quietly cuddled children, I went and ran some errands by myself, drove around in the snow flurries, and didn't even sing much in the car (normally I'm BELTING it out!). I felt especially aware of the people around me today, and some of the different personalities/situations that I saw made me feel such feels so I'm writing it down for memory's sake. Sometimes it's just nice to write about things you see.

The lady knitting in the car in front of me. Alllllll the way to Patton from McDowell I was behind a little tan volvo. I saw a poof of fluffy greying hair peeking over the top of the passenger seat. Every few minutes, a chunky scarf appeared between two small hands, turning this way and that. Pretty sure she was a beginning knitter. The man in the drivers' seat nodded in approval, and the knitting disappeared below the fluff of hair again.

The couple counting contractions in the mall. On my way through the mall parking lot, I passed a super pregnant lady and her husband(?). She was doubled over, leaning on his arm, and he was timing on his phone. He looked at me as I passed by, with a look that was like "DO YOU SEE THIS?! THIS IS HAPPENING!" and after a few more seconds, the lady stood up straight and said, "DAMN! That was a bad one!" and she rubbed her belly and they kept on walking.

The girl at the bus stop. There was a girl at the bus stop by Asheville Christian who really struck me with her presence. She was dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans, and her backpack was black and plain and so were her sneakers. She had the same style I had in early high school. (I didn't want to look like I was "trying" but who knows her reasons.) A doofus of a guy was standing next to her, talking and waving his hands around. She looked bored to tears, staring into traffic, not responding to whoever he was and whatever he had to say. We made eye contact and she stayed truly expressionless.

The little boys eating snow in the bank parking lot. Snow never gets old for kids. While their mom yanked her coat up to her ears and marched towards the bank her two sons dawdled on the way to the door, screaming, "IT'S STICKING!" and jumping around wildly. The youngest one opened his mouth and squinted up at the sky. "ISSS SNOBING!" He yelped, without closing his mouth. His mom yelled at him and he quickened his pace, mouth still open, face still turned upwards, busting into a penguin-like run to the door of the bank.

The man on the bridge. I drove over a high (very high) bridge. A bundle of clothes that I assumed housed a man sat gruffly on the railing, back towards me. I never even saw his face. But he looked so totally not bothered by the snow, or by the fact that he was sitting on the edge of a 30 foot drop. (Actually no idea how many feet it was. I have terrible depth perception!) How amazing to not care about these things. It made me a little angry. For two reasons: 1. I care about such stupid things, and I make sure everyone knows it, and 2. He probably cares about things that matter (like, ya know, surviving) and does anyone know? Maybe he never even voices his thoughts.

So those were the people I saw today. I see a lot of people. But sometimes I'm busy thinking about myself I don't even consider those people in the context of their own rich and random lives. Today my mind was quiet, quiet enough so that when I looked at people, instead of my own thoughts, I heard a note or two out of their stories-- at least I like to think I did.

I Talked To God (and then committed sacrilege by writing this post)

I got home from a night out with friends, and guess who was waiting up for me...

Me: Oh! Hey God. I didn't see you there. Or there. Or there. Gosh, it's intense coming home to someone who's... everywhere.
God: Hi. I thought I'd stop by. It seemed like a good time since you're feeling slightly lonely and morose in the suddenly isolated aftermath of socializing.
Me: ....
God: How are you, kiddo?
Me: Well I went bowling tonight. It was fun. Did you create bowling just for me?
God: HA! No, it's merely another catalyst for humility that I allowed in your life.
Me: ...
God: ...
Me: So this is awkward. We haven't hung out in a long time.
God: ....
Me: Yeah... I mean, I've been busy, you've been... busy...
God: *rolls eyes* Well it's not like I'm sitting around waiting for you to talk to me, but... I've been sitting around waiting for you to talk to me! Ya little turd!
Me: Oh my goodness, you don't have to act so... omnipotent!
God: Darn right I'm your goodness! And you just took "omnipotent" completely out of context in an attempt to be clever, but I'll forgive you. Like I do.
Me: Thanks. So, what brings you knocking on the door of my heart tonight?
God: Well, see, kiddo, I've been... worried about ya.
Me: WORRIED about me?
God: Yeah, you've been so angry lately. And sad. And so hopeless.
Me: You noticed? Awww, Goddd! So sweet of you!
God: Listen, it's not that you've been feeling those things. In light of your life recently it makes perfect sense that you're feeling those things. That jerk-face really hurt you, and don't worry, that'll be taken care of later, but right now, there's things you can do that you simply... aren't doing.
Me: I KNOW, I need therapy, and I need to exercise more to increase my serotonin, and I need to eat better because sugar tends to--
God: --shh. shhh. No. You're all wrong. I'm not saying you need to get rid of those ugly things you're feeling. But GOOD GRIEF, you could at least talk to me about them!
Me: Oh. Oops. Well. Yeah. Okay. Yeah.
God: Sarah-- you're wallowing. You don't even want to talk to me about it.
Me: sorrryyy.
God: I am too. Look. I know you're mad at me. I know you're really, really upset and scared about how you could have gotten conned this badly from someone who said he was totes "in the know" with me. And I'm not going to get into details about it right now because I have other ways to tell you why it happened. You'll see eventually.
Me: But-- how can I ever trust anyone again?
God: It starts with me. You don't trust me right now. How am I supposed to give you what you need to trust others if your heart towards me is completely gated? You're scared that everything you know about me is a lie, because you thought I would step in like an over-protective parent and scoop you up out of that dumb-butt's lap, and I didn't.
Me: Why not?
God: Because I don't exist to make your life go the way you want it. This is my whole point! You don't trust me, because you are still clinging to the idea that Who I Am somehow lines up with What You Want, and Sarah-- it doesn't. Stop getting mad at me because I'm not as small and simple as you wish I was! What I'm doing is bigger than this or ANYTHING so far. You're bitter and angry at someone who is big enough to accept the fact that you're bitter and angry and still keep doing what's best for you, even if you get angrier and bitterer.
Me: Hmm. Wow.
God: Let go! Don't you realize? This season of life is the equivalent to a two minute time out you give to one of your kids in the daycare. It's nothing (although it is important part of their relationship with you, as the caretaker) yet they kick and cry and scream and hate you for it.
Me: Wow. I'm so embarrassed.
God: Don't hate me. This, in the grand scheme of things, is a short (though important) part of our life together. I'd like to see you stop kicking and screaming in the corner. Don't turn your back and hunch your shoulders in spite. Turn around and look at me. Try to understand that I'm a gazillion years older than you and know what I'm talking about.
Me: ...
God: And I love you. I'm right here in time-out with you, and it sucks just as much for me, if not more. Sarah. You are more precious to me than any of those children that you pour your heart and time into are to you. Does that blow your mind?
Me: A little bit, yeah.
God: Time-out is over. Don't sulk any more than you already have. Come back and join me, and the other kids. There's love and fun to be had when you are ready to stop hating me for taking away your perfect life. Step away from the angry corner. Come into the light. Know me, and know my other children. Love, learn, and play. And know that I'm watching-- and I'll take care of you.