Camp Counselor Packing List

This week, I spent many hours scouring the internet for things I need this summer. You'd think after a few summers at camp I'd start to accumulate the necessities, but it seems backpacks, sleeping bags, and flannel shirts are all things that tend to disappear over time - especially if, like me, you've lived in two houses, three dorm rooms, and a whole bunch of cabins in the past YEAR! It's a wonder I can find anything!

So, yes. I've spent a lot of money at all our favorite counselor-money-holes this week (REI, Diamond Brand, Mast General... you know the drill). But, as the countdown to camp gets smaller and smaller, I've been thoughtfully cultivating some things that maybe AREN'T written on the camp packing list.

Here are some things you'll DEFINITELY need as a counselor this summer!


Trust
I started out last summer crying in my orientation cabin because I was already convinced I would make no friends, I would have no fun, I would impact NO campers, AND EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE AWFUL! I was nervous, homesick, and dealing with a lot of personal issues in my life that made it hard for me to kick back and take camp for what it is - a magical place that somehow always takes care of you. In those first days at camp, when you're uncertain of how things will go, it's important to keep trust packed at the very top of your suitcase, you will need it. Trust that you WILL make friends, you WILL impact campers, and you WILL leave this summer with amazing experiences!

Patience
Last summer tested my endurance like nothing else. My very first cabin included my all-time hardest-to-deal-with camper: OLIVIA. Olivia did strange things like steal other campers' deodorant for no reason, fake-snore loudly at odd hours of the night until everyone woke up, and her personal favorite: walking around our cabin completely naked and then saying "STOP LOOKING AT ME! I FEEL VIOLATED!" Oh Lord. Olivia was a trip. But she taught me early on that patience is something I will always need to bring to camp with me. And you'll need it for more than your campers. You'll need it for your supervisors, your co-counselors, and yourSELF. Just, you'll need it.

Vulnerability
This is a tough one - I don't know about you, but I don't like being vulnerable. Unfortunately, in a camp setting where you're completely cut off from the outside world and don't have your normal "coping" methods (shopping, napping for several hours, watching Netflix... those are mine) you MAY have to resort to being vulnerable and honest with the people around you about your needs. You're also going to be in close quarters with other humans CONSTANTLY. This means that naturally, you're going to get to know people on a - shall we say - more "intimate" level. This means bodily functions, emotions, and YOUR GREATEST MOST TERRIFYING INSECURITIES are all fair game! But it's okay. Bring your vulnerability, and you'll be able to exchange it for the support, respect, and understanding of your co-counselors and supervisors.

Understanding
SPEAKING of understanding, you'll need to bring this too! This summer, you are bringing your own set of unique experiences, opinions, and needs to camp. But here's the thing - so is everyone else! Your campers, and your fellow staff members! And there will be times when you're faced with a camper you just don't get. Or a co-counselor that drives you crazy. Or a supervisor who DOESN'T SEE something the way you do! And this is where you need to take a minute, go to your suitcase, and pull out some understanding. Use all those great "people skills" we know you have (you got this job because of them!) and try to step into the other person's (close-toed) shoes! Empathy and a little bit of instinct can go a long way in understanding the sometimes "senseless" actions of those around you.

Thankfulness
It is entirely possible to go through a summer without one lick of thankfulness. I've seen it done. But I do NOT recommend it! Bring this, and LOTS of it. Because not only are you going to have an amazing summer, but even those moments that seem not-so-amazing are something to be grateful for - maybe it's a lesson you needed to learn, or if not that, just a really, REALLY good story to tell later on. The thing about thankfulness is that it makes any situation better. Have a hard camper? Be THANKFUL for your great co-counselor. Have a freakin' terrible co-counselor? Be GRATEFUL for that sweet little camper that adores you. Bring thankfulness to camp with you and apply it in the areas where you DON'T think you need it. Especially those areas! It will help... I promise.


And so, these are five things I think know you'll need at camp this summer. I may have spent hours hunting the internet for the PERFECT backpack and sleeping back, but those items are meaningless without these things I've just mentioned!

But, you know, the good part about all these emotional and mental "necessities" is that they're the kind of things you leave camp with MORE of than you came with.... camp will give these things to you bit by bit, through blessings and relationships and challenges. You may come to camp with a little bit of trust, patience, vulnerability, understanding, and thankfulness; I can promise you'll leave with a LOT of them all. So bring what you can; you'll find the rest when you get there.

I'M GOING TO CAMP!!!!!!!

Things have changed in the life of Sarah Kane, yet again!

I've been going about my merry business, traveling with my dad, filling in shifts at the YMCA, and visiting with all my sweet friends who have returned home from the ends of the earth for the summer. 

BUT THEN, like they often do, things changed.

I went to a YMCA staff meeting, and some very nice people got up in front of us and started talking about "Camp Watia". (Pronounced Wah-TIE-ya.) This is a brand new camp, still partially under construction, even. But a beautiful, serene looking place in the mountains. 

AND THEN. THEY SAID. THEY NEED. A FEW MORE.

FEMALE COUNSELORS!!!

I felt a little spark of possibility. I'd only just given up on the idea of summer camp, after having to cancel my Lutheridge contract so close to the start of camp season... and while I was completely at peace with that decision, as soon as I started reading more about the atmosphere of Camp Watia, I knew I would apply. I just knew it.

               

And so, I did! I didn't apply through the application, because I was too excited to sit there answering questions about my CPR certification. I emailed the director, poured my heart out about my situation with Lutheridge, and two days later I had a phone interview with the program director!

AND I GOT THE JOB!

It took a few days of careful thought and prayer before I decided to take the job, as it IS scary to just abandon my life at home and run away to a camp that doesn't even have a facebook page yet (*EDIT* They do have a facebook page, I just discovered! Check it out!)! I have NO idea what my summer will be like at Watia! But I do know that I'm thrilled to bits to be part of this camp's very first summer. It's special. 50 years from now, when the camp celebrates its semicentennial, I'll be able to say I was one of those inaugural counselors. 

I leave in TEN DAYS for these beautiful mountains. I truly feel this opportunity is a gift from God. Now all the doubts, nervousness, and anxiety that I had over returning to Lutheridge makes sense! Maybe THIS was the plan all along. When I finally let go of Lutheridge, finally resigned myself to that loss... this fell into my lap. And I couldn't be happier.

My Dad the Man: BAD INTERVIEWS #2

I conducted this interview back in April when I took a trip with my dad down to Moody Air Force Base. We had a six-ish hour drive, so what better to do in the car than an interview, right?! Thanks, daddy, for that wonderful trip, and also for this really memorable interview! I learned a lot about you and I'm glad I have your answers written down for the history books.

Me: How are you, Mr. Kane?
Daddy: I'm very well, thank you.
Me: I'm excited for the people who read my blog to get to know you.
Daddy: Oh boy...
Me: So let's jump right in!
Daddy: Let's do that.

On "childhood and background".

Me: How are you different from your parents/upbringing?
Daddy: Where do I start.... My mother was uneducated, abused, poor... she was foolish in many ways, God rest her soul. She made very very bad decisions with men, so her whole life was filled with strife and trouble. Now, my father: as the baby of his family, he was spoiled. He was selfish, self-centered. Now, I'm maybe confident, and sometimes cocky, but not self-centered. He was a braggart. My father wasn't able to keep any relationships. He was always SEARCHING for something, and he never found it. And then he died, and that was that.
Me: Bummer.
Daddy: We're worlds apart, me and my parents. Universes apart. But I try to understand the way they were raised, and what made them that way. You have to try to understand, or you're just as bad as them.

Me: How would people in high school have described you?
Daddy: Well, guys would have found me "okay", they would have said that I was funny, friendly, some of them might say I was smart... and the ladies would have found me courteous, and interesting because I spoke differently. I had two high schools - one in Philly, and one in California. In Philly I was just one of the guys. But in California, I spoke with an east-coast accent which was interesting to them. And they voted me "Most Likely To Succeed" in the yearbook that year!

Me: Are there any questions you regret not asking your parents?
Daddy: Sure. I would like to know why they didn't stay together. Why they divorced, why my father went away for ten years. For my mother, why she kept making bad decisions about nasty men. Yeah.
Me: Wow. Those are sad.
Daddy: *shrugs* It is what it is.

Me: Was there ever a turning point for you in your life?
Daddy: I've had a few! One day, out of the blue, the phone rang at my mother's house, and it was my father, who I didn't remember because he left when I was five. So he called, and I answered the phone. And no one ever called me "Tommy Kane Junior" so I freaked out and hung the phone up. He called back, and I made my friend Frankie answer the phone because I thought someone was playing a really nasty joke! And Frankie said, "No. I think it's your father. You better take the phone," and I took the phone, and I actually collapsed onto the floor against the refrigerator. Some time later, we met. And then, my sister and I went to California with him.

     And that was a MAJOR turning point because that was my first time I flew on a plane, stayed in a hotel, ate at a decent restaurant - basically, I found out what life had to offer. I went from a difficult situation with nasty people, basically fighting every day to survive - to, well, it felt like - heaven. From inner-city white trash to middle-class America, L.A. style.

On "Family" and "The Future".

Me: How did you propose to my mother?
Daddy: In a pretty crappy way. I just said, "Do ya wanna get married?" She said, "yes," and we eloped. And here we are, 28 years later. Scarred, beat-up, with a few regrets. But not about us getting married. I think it's awesome.

Me: How did you find out my mom was pregnant with me?
Daddy: Weeeellll, let's see. We were talking about having a baby, and, you know how your mom is, she's very detailed. She had it all calculated. For a while, nothing worked. Then one day she told me she was pregnant, and I was like "Wow! Really?" and it didn't really sink in. I was like, "I did it?!"

Me: If a young man came to you and said he wanted to date one of your daughters what would you ask him?
Daddy: I would probably say, "This young lady is more precious to me than anything, and I would not be a happy guy if I found out you weren't being a gentleman and being caring and kind. If you aren't, say, opening the door for her and being the chivalrous guy you're supposed to be, well, I'm not afraid to go back to prison." I would want to know if he thinks my daughter is a "fling" because that doesn't work for me. I'd want to ask, "Are you looking down the road? What are you doing with your life? Is my daughter a part of that life?" I'd want to know about his family, too, because that speaks something about his future - are his parents together, is he from a loving family? I don't care if he's some mega-successful guy in business or money, but is he successful in his relationships?

Me: How do you define love?
Daddy: Love is a verb. Love is this thing that's in motion. It's not a static thing that stands in front of you when you're getting married and says "I do." It's always evolving - it's fluid and moving and changing. You can taste it and feel it but you can't define it. You can't say to someone else, "this is MY definition of love, so get with it!" because theirs may be different. But my definition is that it's a thing you have to harness and hold on to, a thing that you need to try to understand so you can protect it. Woah. I got way out there.

Me: So... where do you see yourself in ten years?
Daddy: Uhh, if I have it my way, which is highly unlikely... hopefully I'll be semi-retired, hanging with your mom, maybe traveling, seeing some of the places we would like to see, maybe more of Europe. Maybe we'll be seeing you and Olivia getting your careers underway, meeting nice guys, maybe in that ten year period you'll tell us we'll have grandchildren coming... you know. All the things that the cycle of life brings you. I'm looking forward to those things.

Me: If you could only be remembered for one of your many accomplishments, which one would you pick?
Daddy: That I loved my wife.

On music, emotions, and life in general.

Me: Would you rather be the president of the United States or the world's greatest rock musician (who's British)? 
Daddy: Why would I have to British?
Me: Well... most of them are.
Daddy: No they're not!
Me: They are!
Daddy: Some of them are, but there's loads of them from Australia and the U.S. and Canada! Are you kidding me? Where was ACDC from?
Me: Mmmmm....
Daddy: Australia.
Me: I knew that.
Daddy: So I'd rather be the rock-and-roll star than president. That's more my speed. The thing about being president is that you're president for four or eight years and then you're... well...
Me: History?
Both: *explode in laughter*
Daddy: Yep. But the Rolling Stones, man, they've been rocking out for fifty years! I think it's awesome.
Me: If you could join any band ever, which one would you join?
Daddy: Aww man. That's a tough one. MAN! I would probably join Queen. But then there's the Beatles, duh. Bon Jovi, also. Oh, and Boston. So there's a few.

Me: What kind of things make you cry?
Daddy: Hungry children. Hurt animals. Moments in movies and books that are touching and relevant.

Me: Okay, so what kind of things give you the creeps?
Daddy: Creepy people. Terror movies.
Me: Terror movies...?
Daddy: Uhhh... you know, spirit stuff. Dark stuff. Devil movies.

Me: What is one thing you really wanted from life that you haven't gotten (yet)?
Daddy: I mean, I don't hunger for anything I don't already have. I'm not that guy. I don't have these fantasies of what I should or could be. Think about this, Sarah: I came from the inner-city, I was poor, standing in line for welfare and WIC, collecting milk and cheese so we could eat - always worrying about being evicted - which we were, many times. So I went from that to having what many people would view as success: I have a successful family. You and your sister are phenomenal! Your mom and I, we like each other; we love each other. We like holding hands, we like going to dinner together. After thirty years of being together, these things still give us a "charge". So people would look at that, they'd also see we've made millions of dollars, owned nice houses and cars... People would wonder what more could we want?

     If I stop and think about it, there's two things: I'd like to be more physically fit, and I'd like to learn to play an instrument. I've had success in business, I've traveled the world - I have great kids and a great wife, and look at us - here we are, traveling together! I have a ton of freedom, and I've been very fortunate. Our family has, really.

Closing advice from my dad, the man. 

Me: For the most part, my blog readers are young, aimless people. What's one piece of advice you'd give them in trying to find their place in the world?
Daddy: Well, I'm a high school drop. But I've been very fortunate in that most jobs I've applied for, I've gotten. One thing I'd say to young people today is that they have far, far too many choices. I didn't have a choice, I've been hungry; I've lived in my car. It's not fun. It makes you find a way. Young people need to stop WAITING just because they can. They need to just make a choice, even if it's not perfect and it's uncomfortable. Take control of your life. Even if your parents allow you to be dependent, just get out there. See, Eagles push their baby eaglets out of the nest and they're like "you fly or you die, buddy." But parents today don't do that. Even if the kids are ready! It's time to soar like the eagles, kids, or else you're gonna be stuck hanging with the turkeys.

I love you, daddy! Thanks for everything.

Once, in One of My Funks

The past few days I have been truly, definitely, undeniably depressed.

For me, "being depressed" entails waking up more tired than I was when I went to bed. Looking in the mirror and crying because MY FACE!!!!!!! And also, not wanting to talk to people because, well, I distrust everyone and no one knows I exist anyway, so what's the point?

So, you're in a funk! It happens. I have my typical funk routine. It involves:

-crying at the Lancome counter in the mall
-frequenting the Chick-fil-A drive-thru
-writing very sad blog posts

And, well, the cycle goes on. Lancome and Chick-fil-A get all my money, my blog views go up a little because apparently a lot of people are interested in my pain, and eventually the funk phases out slowly back into the mediocrity of emotional stability.

BUT NOT THIS FUNK! 

No. I'm determined to get out of it, AND SOON. I've decided there a few things I need to do in order to kick this funk. These are the things:

-EXERCISE MORE
-GET FRESH AIR
-SLEEP BETTER
-LOOK PRETTIER
-DRINK LESS MILKSHAKES

Yes. And so, I've thrown myself into this funk-kicking routine! Today, I did 60 squats in the shower. I played baseball with the kids I watched, and I didn't fake-run slowly like I usually do - oh no. I RAN FOR REAL. I even decided to forgo eating leftover pizza for lunch and instead opted for some strawberries. But you want to know what REALLY made the difference for me today?

Stories.

They weren't even on my list!

But, I listened to stories and walked seven miles around the park. It wasn't the sunshine, or the fresh air, or the gravelly stream running beside me that so changed the course of my day - even my WEEK! It was the stories trickling through my cheap earbuds and into my vast and wandering mind.

These aren't audio books - they're stories. Mostly Moth stories. Real people's anecdotes, memories, tragedies, victories. These blips of reality, painted with humor and nostalgia and hopefulness - they are the remedy, I'm convinced, to a mind overcooked in society's pretentious performances.

Tears streamed down my face as I marched the park path, and people looked at me with concern. But just minutes later, I was laughing loudly. And then, crying again. But then laughing, roaring! I had completely escaped my own life and was lost deep within a rabbit trail of different lives. It was a time of contentment and comfort. It's incredible how fifteen minutes of listening to another person's story can transform them from a stranger to a role model, a kindred spirit, a force in your life.

And I feel a sense of peace because I ALSO have stories to tell! Little blips of reality, infused with my perspective, that I want, I need to share! And one day, maybe I'll be one of those people sending my stories out into the world, causing laughter and tears and true, refreshing emotion.

Or maybe I already am one of those people.

And my funk seems so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, because it's just a funk, and it seems like a pretty good story could start out with: "Once, in one of my funks..."

Stay tuned.

The Time I Won A Race But Really Was Just Looking For Donuts

Today on my nice, easy stroll around the park I saw a runner. She had a desperate, grief-stricken look on her face that seemed to say "I hate my life" and suddenly I had a flashback to a time when I, too, ran....

It was a long time ago.

I was 14, and working in the laundry hut at a girls' summer camp with my best friend, Kara. It was each of our first "real" jobs, and we took our work there very seriously, for the most part.

However, we frequently relied on external sources (music, food, flirting with the maintenance guys...whatever it took) to get us through the long, hot day in the laundry room tucked off the beaten path of the girls' bungalows. So when one morning our boss - a wiry, energetic lady - popped her head around the concrete door frame and sang, "DOONNNUUUTTTSS!" well, we knew we needed some. "Go get yourselves a box!" she said merrily. "They're in the dining hall, but you better hurry before they're all gone!"

Kara turned to me and said, "If you go, go fast! It looks like it's gonna rain! Maybe run?"

Now, even at age 14, I knew myself well enough to know that running was NOT one of my spiritual gifts. But, I began a brisk jog towards the dining hall. I still remember the feel of my 2-for-5-dollars pair of Old Navy flip-flops sliding under my sweaty heels.

And Kara was right about the rain. Soon, it was a steady, warm drizzle, like many we had that summer. I took off my wet flip-flops and held them - and all the pine needles stuck to them - against my thighs as I busted into a full sprint the last few yards to the dining hall.

But suddenly, up ahead, there was clapping. Cheering. "YEAAAH!! WOOO!!" I kept running but looked over my shoulder to see who those people were cheering for, but... there was no one. How odd. I began to feel slightly uncomfortable.

I felt the warm, wet ground pounding under my bare feet as I passed through a crowd of fresh-faced counselors screaming "YOU'RE AWESOME!" and "GOOD JOB!" as I approached them. They even had signs! "YOU FINISHED THE RACE!" Someone said to me, and another counselor added, "WOW! You finished super early!" but I was in shock, and all I could think was "I just wanted donuts. I didn't ask for this!" 

I knew this situation had the potential to become extremely, extremely awkward for all parties involved. So, like one does when one fears impending humiliation, I RAN AWAY. Without hesitation, I walked right through the group of loud, hyper (albeit very nice) counselors and sped-walked cautiously into the dining hall (didn't want to slip on the wet floor - that's another story) where I grabbed a box of donuts and walked, very casually, in the rain, back to the laundry hut.

That was my first and my last race. But I can say I know the overwhelming feeling of crossing a finish line. And it's a good thing I can still remember the rush that comes from winning first place in a girls'-summer-camp-early-morning race, because I'll probably never feel it again.

WE'RE LOSING HIM! A Tale of CPR Certification

A few weeks ago I got a rather sinister email from one of my superiors detailing to me that if I did not obtain my CPR, First Aid, and AED training by June 15th, I WOULD BE TAKEN OFF THE SCHEDULE! Dunnhh dunnhhh DUNNNHHH!

So, well, the day came. I signed up for an all-day training session and come yesterday morning, off I went with my banana and my rice cakes to the YMCA conference room.

There were ten other people in the CPR class. I knew none of them. Which was good, because I could be equally aloof with everyone and it didn't matter. 

Finally, after hours of sitting in front of a projector, IT CAME TIME FOR "HANDS ON PRACTICE".

Me and my partner, a delightful yoga instructor from a neighboring Y, were assigned our dummy. I quickly learned how truly strenuous CPR is. Pump squeak pump squeak pump squeak pump squeak. We each did 150 chest compressions. Then came the INFANT dummy. Big dummy was fondly called "Bobby" while baby dummy was simply "Baby Dummy". Sad, I know. He never even got a name...

...Which was even more regretted, when, sadly, I couldn't save him. His red light flashed angrily at me as I tried desperately to get his little rubberized lungs to fill with air but... alas... it was too late by the time we figured out the plastic sanitation cover on his mouth was attached incorrectly, and the mission had been futile from the start.

With the sad, sad loss of Baby Dummy it was time to move on to AED practice. Yoga Lady and I joined up with Buff Guy and Old Guy to all perform a "group role play" scenario on Bobby Dummy. Now, for those that don't know what AED stands for, I don't know either. But it's those little shock pads you use after cardiac arrest.

Now, I know I said this was a "group role play" but Old Guy took things waaaayy too far.

"GET ME AED!" He hollered through the conference room. We got him AED. "GREAT!" He yelled, and started taking an imaginary pulse on Bobby Dummy's imaginary arm. (He didn't have arms.)

"Do you wanna try AED?" Buff Guy said kindly to... oh, me, he's talking to me. Great. 

"Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure." I timidly turned on the AED box and we all watched it start up. 

"Just listen to the directions the box is giving you," Our instructor said encouragingly as she strolled by the groups. 

"Place pads on patient" AED box droned. 

"WE'RE LOSING HIM!" Old guy bellowed, and began leaning close to Bobby Dummy's face. "I DON'T HEAR BREATHING!" 

"Scanning for rhythm" AED box continued. 

I had stuck the sticky pads on Bubby Dummy's lifeless chest, and AED soon suggested, "Shock. Recommended. Press. Shock. Button."

"COME ON, HE'S GONNA BE DEAD IN FIVE MINUTES!" Old Guy began doing chest compressions, completely ignoring AED, Yoga Lady, Me, and Buff Guy, who all watched him sympathetically. 

"Wanna move while she does the shock?" Buff Guy asked Old Guy. 

"I'M GONNA START RESCUE BREATHS!" Old Guy answered.

"Go ahead," Buff Guy said to me, with an awkward shrug. 

I pushed the shock button. 

"Everyone. Stand. Clear."

But Old Guy seemed deaf to the commands, as he continued doing vigorous mouth to mouth on Bobby Dummy. 

"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP"

"Sh*%$#@!$%@!##$@#!" Old Guy jumped off Bobby Dummy and looked at me with utter confusion and disbelief. "What are you doing?! Did I tell you to push that button?!"

"That's alright, just follow the AED instructions," Our instructor said cheerily as she passed by in her stroll around. "We're not doing CPR right now," she added, coincidentally looking at Old Guy.

"Okay," Old Guy said, gathering himself. "You're right. OKAY GUYS, I think it's time for AED. Push that button."

"I already did..." I said meekly.

"It's too late. He's gone. I'm sorry." Buff Guy shrugged, slowly taking Bobby Dummy out of Old Guy's arms and dragging him away to the instructor's bag.

Yoga lady let out a sigh of disappointment. We watched the little red light flash on Dummy Bobby's chest as he moved farther, and farther, and farther away. The little red light suddenly became a living entity and said, "you all suckkkk..." very quietly. 

But, we all scored 100% on the written test, which is DEFINITELY the part that matters, so.... 

DON'T WORRY! SARAH KANE IS NOW CPR, FIRST AID, AND AED CERTIFIED! *thumbs up* 

To the One Who Will Never Read This

     This is a "thank-you note" to one I know by many names.

          To the one I now call my abuser yet once called my guardian;

          my teacher;

          my friend;

          To the one who will never read this,

          To the one who broke my heart,

     Thank you. 

     Thank you for breaking my heart: as the people that love me are piecing it back together, I've seen parts of it - wonderful parts of it - that I didn't know existed until now. 

     Thank you for revealing to me my greatest flaws: insecurity, pride, fear. I'm working on them now.

     Thank you for showing me the complexity of evil and sin: your carefully presented image to the world reminds me now to question everything that seems "too good to be true". 

     Thank you for revealing the people who love me: it was the aftermath of YOU that showed me who was "in it for the long haul". Thanks. 

     Thank you for curing my naivety: I am sharp now - even my Meyer's Briggs changed. Thanks for the good judgement I now have so much more of.

     Thank you for teaching me that forgiveness has nothing to do with the people that hurt you: it has everything to do with releasing the idea that I'm guaranteed anything in this life from anyone other than myself and God.

     Thank you for crushing my spirit: it's coming back stronger than before, richer and thicker and unlikely to be trampled in that manner again. 

     Thank you for giving me something big enough, scary enough, and hard enough to prove to myself that I am strong, I am smart, I am resilient: I have seen first-hand the things I can overcome.

     Thank you for opening my eyes to the injustices and heartaches that nearly 4 million women and 1 in 5 children go through in this country: you've given me a new empathy for the victims of people like you.

     Thank you for showing me the opposite of love: real love is even better now.

     Thank you for strengthening my faith in God: despite the awful, manipulative way you used Christianity against me - you failed. Because here's how it works... as long as people like you exist in the world, I will need a loving God to turn to - and He has been there for me in the aftermath of you.

     Thank you for showing me that the truth REALLY WILL set me free: it wasn't until I experienced your pit of lies that I could find this out for myself. Now I know.

     Thank you for this hard, hard journey I've been on: it's a part of my story. A part of my victory. A part of me. 

     Thank you for all these things, and many more I'm sure I'll gain in time. 

     Sarah

I Wanted Community But I Didn't Get it And Well it's Actually Okay

On Monday, I made an impulse decision to join my dad on a trip to Warner Robins, GA, for a last minute plane tear-down!

I had a lot going on this week, but I felt compelled to join in on the fun, and so I rushed home from babysitting, packed my bag, and we headed down to the site.

We passed the exits for Furman and Clemson on the way.

Two out of my three top school choices I was considering last spring while transferring. I often get lost in daydreams of what would have happened if I'd chosen one of those schools. Visions of myself running around in orange and purple haunt my thoughts... of course, if I'd ONLY chosen Clemson or Furman so much of the pain and trauma I experienced in my short stay at Agnes Scott could have been avoided, RIGHT? Maybe... but... does thinking about that heal any of what DID happen?

Well... nah.

Yes, I know I have constantly blogged about how *happy* and *content* and *grateful* I am for the way my life is now, but the truth is, I need to constantly remind myself WHY...

I found this great swing this week. It's hung from the tail of a one-of-a-kind plane. There was a lot of downtime this week on the job site and I found myself sitting here on this swing, contemplating life (in short sessions of course because it actually kind of hurt my butt).

A very calm spot to consider the state of things. From here I could view the comings and goings of various groups of airmen in those "bunkers" across the old, unused landing strip. While watching these men go about their daily routine I longingly thought about times in my life when I've had a starched, solid daily life. School. Work. Camp. There HAVE been times where I've had a reliable, comforting sense of community and stability. I've often felt little sprouts of peace at a place, a little internal sigh of "I could make myself at home here".

But it seems I'm always been torn away from them in some way or another. Often, things end bitterly. I've left all my colleges with a sense of sadness and disappointment at the way things went down there, and now the same can sadly be said for camp. 

I watched the airmen walking to and fro, so easily marked in their camo, so "a part" of this place, and I truly craved a community that would wrap me in something solid and recognizable like those uniforms do for these men. I sometimes wish I had gone to great school, found an irresistible spark of school spirit in myself, and thrown myself into my four years there, becoming intertwined with the place forever. Or perhaps I could have chosen a different summer camp and returned year after year, feeling more and more embedded in the community, more and more an extension of that ministry. 

No. 

This has not been the case for me. 

But as I sat here, I felt a sense of peace in that perhaps I have not yet been granted a community that is long-lasting, fulfilling, and consuming because I'm not ready for it. 

Maybe, by constantly giving me a "new plan" and a change of scenery, God is teaching me important things about my personality, my needs, and the delicate balance of "self" and "others". Maybe it would be "too easy" for me to throw myself into an identity based on one place, one group, one purpose. Maybe I'm still too wounded to give myself away again to something external.

Whatever the reason, I felt an overwhelming sense of strength this week as I realized that I have become somewhat of an expert at surviving without a community - or anyone, really. Since my one and only long-term "relationship" (a better definition would be "hostage situation" but ya know) ended, I've been truly alone in my decisions, my thoughts, my plans, my perspective. 

I've really learned who IIIIIIIIIIII am. Who ***I*** am! Not who people think I am, not who people want me to be, and not who people try to MAKE me be. I am learning - still learning - what makes me tick. What I like. What I feel. What I think. 

And I require no community, no school spirit, no church function calendar, and no "umbrella" of any kind to define myself under. There's no place, person, or group that I feel would destroy me if I lost it. And that feels good. 

I'm not trying to say "I'm bullet-proof" because I'm NOT - not at all! But, I feel recent events in my life, including this on-going theme of loss, are proving to be important factors in the continual process of "making Sarah Kane as Sarah Kane-y as she can be". Maybe we just gotta strip away a few more of the externals to figure out what's REALLY going on inside this girl. 

And so, I try to push aside these longing thoughts of Clemson and a perfect crowd of orange friends around me, because I, Sarah Kane, no longer need a fantastic school or camp or church to feel a sense of belonging and purpose. I belong right here in this body, wherever this body may be. With whoever I'm with. Doing whatever I'm doing. I'm one of those crazy soil-less plants. Drop me anywhere, and I'll grow. This week, I grew under a one-of-a-kind plane. Next week, I'll grow under the fluorescent lights of the YMCA. Who knows where I'll grow the week after that. 

Stay tuned.

Conversations With Fate

May 17th, 2015 

Me: hey there Fate, I was just stopping by to see what I'm going to be up to this coming year.
Fate: *leans over crystal ball* well it's quite a year!!! Looks like you get a boyfriend, get your driver's license, and go to prom... Oh wait.... That's your sister. *nervous laugh* HERE you are... Oh... Hmm. Okay. What do you want to know?
Me: well, just give me the basic run-down.
Fate: okay, well...
Me: is it bad?
Fate: um
Me: okay... I go to Agnes Scott in August, right?
Fate: yess
Me: and... I have a great year there right?
Fate: well... Actually you leave in September.
Me: THE FRICK?! No way! You liar!
Fate: LOOK YOU SIGNED THIS FORM *waves form* WHICH MEANS I, FATE, AM NOT HELD LIABLE FOR YOUR EMOTIONS! Shut up and sit down!
Me: *sits down* well ok but I'm not happy about this.
Fate: *adjusts turban* sounds like a personal problem.
Me: okay, so where am I in October?
Fate: applying to UNCA.
Me: gross! And November?
Fate: youuuuuuuu start working at target.
Me: oh my god.
Fate: *squints into crystal ball* December, you turn twenty! Congrats. You celebrate it with a mini ice cream at your friend Kathryn's house.
Me: hmm. Ok. January?
Fate: target fires you. UNCA does too.
Me: geez!
Fate: February.... Well. It's not a good month for you. Let's just say you discover vodka, your cousin dies, and you start working... Well... At the YMCA.
Me: WEIRD. What about March?!
Fate: you fall in and out of love with someone all in the course of two weeks!
Me: intense! I get a rebound?! Wow. Okay. April?
Fate: you tell your life story to a room full of people you've known for a month, you travel to a military base in Georgia to take a plane apart, and - hey - your semi-successful blog starts making money! Congrats, girl!
Me: damn!
Fate: and then, there's May.
Me: WHAT HAPPENS IN MAY?! Oh I know. I go back to Lutheridge to be a counselor again.
Fate: *wags finger negatively* no no no
Me: whhhhhhhhat?!
Fate: in May, you find yourself sleeping on a basement floor with your best friend and her mom and crying. A lot.
Me: sounds therapeutic.
Fate: oh, it will be.
Me: so... June?
Fate: *shrugs* sorry kid, I only have a 12 month projection field.
Me: well... Can I ask you one more question?
Fate: I don't know, CAN you?
Me: ... Am I... Will I be... Happy?
Fate: *guffaws* oh child. That was never up to me. That's YOUR call. *starts packing up crystal ball*
Me: WAIT! One more.
Fate: HASTE! There are other angsty girls waiting to shake their firsts at me, I have a very tight schedule.
Me: Do I make that call? *anxiously strains to peek at crystal ball* Do I choose to be happy?
Fate: *closes crystal ball bag authoritatively* CHILD!
Me: I HAVE TO KNOW!
Fate: *throws arms in the air in frustration* YES! Yes you little pest, YOU ARE HAPPY! There! You're so freaking happy, grateful, and content that it's sickening! Get over it!
Me: yay thank you fate! Sorry for bugging you!
Fate: *walking out the door* Prince dies.
Me: WHAT?!
Fate: *voice fading in the distance* Serves you right, you little control freak! Enjoy thinking about THAT for the next eleven months! *muttering as she gathers her skirts and struts away*

What Is the Point of Goosebumps?

It has now been nearly eight months since my return from The World to my quiet home in Asheville, North Carolina. I came home in the wake of a trauma - still shell-shocked and unable to admit the severity of it... but soon, I began to understand the depth of what happened to me. Those first few weeks, I wondered if I would ever be able to genuinely smile again.

Well, I did. I've smiled, laughed, hugged, loved, worked, played, dreamed, and healed a lot in these months. Somehow, despite the gravity of hard times, I've been able to reach out and touch many people around me.

The human spirit is truly amazing.

I used to hear about hard situations people were in, and I'd think wow, how can they just function in real life after that? Well - somehow, dear past-self, we DO!

Again: the human spirit is truly amazing.

Somehow, we pick ourselves up and carry on even after awful, terrifying, soul-numbingly painful things have happened to us! Day by day we find a way to get ourselves through. And what's most surprising to me is that we find ways to put our pain to work for our own good. Maybe that's all pain is - a needed, inherent reaction that works to get something done. What it's getting done I'm not totally sure of yet. But I trust pain.

When I run, I feel my legs aching, but I know they're growing stronger. When I play piano, I feel my fingers throb, but I know they're growing faster. When I cry, I feel all my emotions tearing at my idealistic expectations of life - but something (my mind? my heart? my faith?) is growing stronger.

Like muscles under pressure, and fingers being stretched, my BEING is in pain over what's happened in my life. But I trust it. It's working in me. Changing me. Hopefully for the better. (And it's not as if I'm just a miserable bundle of pain right now, every day, all the time - NO.)

Yesterday I sat on a bench with my friend Sylvia and in the midst of discussing all the blah-ick-ugh-yuck-meh that I've journeyed through, my mind was caught with a question while looking at her cold legs. What is the point of goosebumps? 

The fact that after a consuming, traumatic event the human brain still finds energy for small, irrelevant wonderings - well. That's something. It just goes to show how complex and resilient we are as people. We aren't just machines that can be programmed. Or animals that can be trained. We have something in our core that sets us apart. A nature, a resilience, a strength. We are made, I believe, to be able to endure suffering and come through it on the other side with a new kind of beauty. And it's that thought that keeps me going, even as I feel my mind and soul aching with pain.

Anyway, so, what ARE the point of goosebumps, you're probably wondering.

I was surprised to learn that goosebumps are a result of the stress response in your body. There are tiny, minuscule little muscles at the base of each hair follicle, apparently. And those leetle teeny muscles are so well in-tune with our stress response that when we're experiencing a strong emotion, those muscles alllll tense up, creating goosebumps! The stress hormone adrenaline is then released, giving us a little something "extra" to help us when we're cold, afraid, and maybe overwhelmed.

The stress response itself can be an uncomfortable thing - who wants prickly sensitive skin and sweaty palms and a racing pulse? Doesn't sound like fun. YET. It's what we need to deal with something much more threatening. If we didn't FEEL that response, we might not have the ENERGY we need to deal with imminent danger, or freezing to death.

Amazing, right? I bet you didn't even know what a gift goosebumps were.

And, so, it seems we humans are well-equipped in our minds and our bodies to deal with discomfort - whether it's getting goosebumps when we're cold or processing a trauma in our minds and hearts.

When you're feeling pain, remember that it's a natural, organic response to a situation. And remember that it may be, like goosebumps, a much-needed discomfort that is ultimately working in your favor. Maybe it's crafting something somewhere deep inside your heart and mind to stretch you, shape you, and make you stronger.

I'm sorry if you're in pain right now. Pain sucks. But I don't think it's without a purpose. Think of your pain as the stress response of your soul. Trust that your psyche, like your body, is dealing with this in its own, wonderfully-made way. And one day, when that work of pain is done, you'll feel the stronger muscles, the stretched fingers, that all serve to make you BETTER. Better at doing things you love. Better at being yourself.

When I now, eight months past a trauma, lay in bed crying, I think:

With every tear I cry, I shed a little more of this burden. With every breath, I breathe out a little more confusion. With every vision of the past, I process a little more of what happened. With every sob, I lose a little of my need to understand why me?

And with every cutting ache of pain, something good inside me is growing. Or perhaps not growing. Perhaps it was always there. Perhaps it just takes pain to REVEAL the resilience of the human spirit.

The Fantastic Pants Fairy

Today I was reminded of how one simple interaction can change the course of a day. I came home from work sluggish and grumpy. Instead of taking a nap, I decided to go meet a sweet friend for coffee, hoping it would help me feel better about myself (selfish, I know). So I changed out of my work clothes and began to get ready for this rare, non-work-related interaction. I wanted to look, you know, NOT LIKE A BUM, so I tried on all three of the "nice" pairs of pants I own but finally decided, "Screw it. I'm wearing leggings."

It's just too tiring sometimes to try to look good. I didn't even take my hair out of my "third-day-hair" bun. I threw on the rest of my outfit - aka, comfy shoes and comfy cardigan - and that was that.

I walked the streets of Hendersonville feeling totally despondent. In high school, I looooved this little town - I loved working there, socializing there, and being a living breathing part of the system that kept it functioning. But I've returned to this corner of the world after a myriad of confusing, overwhelming events. The town has stayed the same, but I have changed. I no longer feel like an important part of this place. Or of anything. I used to know everyone downtown, and they knew me - I had an identity here. But not anymore! No one needs me. NO ONE EVEN NOTICES ME! Heck, I don't even blame them, since-

"Young lady--!" A sharp, yet deep voice cut through my barrage of self-pity and I turned around to see a thin, colorfuly dressed old lady motioning me towards her with a single, knuckle-y finger.

Oh god. What have I done. Did she see my terrible parking job? Is there toilet paper on my shoe? 

The lady (who, by the way, can rock the color orange like no one I've ever seen) leaned in close to me as I approached her. "--you look FANTASTIC in those pants!" she said, emphasizing the words with gravelly enthusiasm.

"Oh my GOSH!" I started crooning. "Thank you sooooo--"

But she was already on her way, with a nod and a smile. The Fantastic Pants Fairy had done her work. I was filled with encouragement - even though this small compliment had NOTHING (well, almost nothing) to do with my worries!

It's not like she said "Young lady-- you matter to the world!" or something existential like that. I didn't even need that much! Just knowing that gosh, my butt looks good! was enough to get me through the day.

Maybe that's sad, maybe that's a relief - but regardless, the Fantastic Pants Fairy inspired me in more ways than one! In fact, here are the ways:

1. I'm going to wear these leggings MORE OFTEN!
2. I'm going to compliment strangers more often, too, because we really need more Fantastic Pants Fairies in the world.
3. People DO like things about me. Even if it's just my bum in leggings. Oh well. It's something.

And so, THANK YOU to the Fantastic Pants Fairy. This day was headed nowhere good until you came along and saved my mood. I will carry on your legacy by complimenting people on their pants and spreading the magic!

Sarah Kane's Driving Manual

Today I got a flustered call from my mom. Her car had been ferociously rear-ended at a red light by "mean druggies who fled the scene". Intense, I know. As I was driving to the gas station where she and our poodle were despondently waiting for the police to show up, I was reminded of the importance of road safety! Here are some tips I feel are often overlooked.

Confidence on the Road

An important part of driving is your mindset. The road is one of the most diverse places you're going to encounter throughout the day. On the road there will be doctors, druggies, angry people, happy people, hormonal youths, cute guys, friendly old ladies, police officers, and maybe even people you know. It's a crazy place - and you need to be ready for all these encounters. Make your driving decisions with confidence, flair, and optimism. Take advantage of the fact you're in public without actually having to speak to anyone - look cool, act cool. A good part of this will require owning bomb sunglasses that make you feel great. But, at the same time, a level of humility is necessary. This means always saying "thank you" when people let you over, even though they can't hear you.

Distracted Driving

There are many forms of distracted driving other than texting. Sadly, I have discovered after much trial and error that it is just not possible to eat chips and dip while operating a vehicle. In highway situations, or on more "crucial" commutes such as a poorly planned rush to work, I'd opt for easy handheld foods like bagels, cupcakes, and ice-cream cones. Avoid hot foods, as burning your tongue while driving can be very stressful and may cause you to take your misplaced anger out on a curb, or even better worse - a pedestrian.

Merging and Exiting

These are topics I don't really remember learning much about in driver's ed, so I've been forced to learn tactics experientially. When merging, I've found it helpful to vocalize your needs. "Please get over" "MOVE OVER!" and "Are you letting me in, you jerk?!" may not seem like useful phrases - since, well, no one can hear you - but I have YET to get in an accident while merging onto a highway, so research seems to show a positive benefit here! As for exiting, it's best to wait until the last minute, then dramatically cross several lanes of traffic while screaming "THIS IS MY EXIT!" This has almost always worked for me and I recommend this to anyone. Worst case scenario, you miss your exit and get to explore a new area of town. LIVE A LITTLE!

Post-Accident Procedure

Now, despite my previous tips, accidents still happen! BUT, it's just a part of life, and there is a little-talked-about series of events that have to happen post-accident. Following a bumper-humper, an appropriate first action would be to burst into tears. This relieves anxiety and adrenaline, as well as making police officers and insurance agents more sympathetic and thus, nicer. The next steps are to make your phone calls, starting off with an ambiguous "I'M OKAY, BUT..." And of course, once things are resolved with law enforcement and other involved parties, it's time to have some "post stress chill down". After my first accident, it was a lot of pain meds and watching The Princess Bride. After my Subaru was attacked by a pick-up truck, it was pink lemonade and resting in the fact that I got to miss my shift at Target! Find a routine that suits you.

Good luck out there!

P.S. If you see a bunch of mean druggies in a gold jeep let me know.

Leave Me Here To Die: MONDAYS

Yesterday was a Monday.

On Mondays, I watch three rowdy boys ages 4, 8, and 10 while their parents work late hours, go on Lowes dates, and attend the occasional gala.

"How'd it go today?" Their mom asked me at the end of the night as she kicked off her heels and started writing my check.

Well. Here's what I did NOT tell her...

*swirly windchime scene change dooodly doooodly whoooosh whooshh*

"We're going on an errand!" I told the kids gleefully as they came in the door and dumped their backpacks and lunchboxes everywhere. The two older boys groaned and moaned but soon enough we were in the car on the way to TJ Maxx to return my ballet flats. The 4-year-old asked me, "Why do you not want them shoes?" and I told him it was because they were too sparkly for my style. He said, with a furrowed brow, "You have a style?"

This was the high point of the day.

After my shoes were returned, I told the boys we could go in a "fun" store in the mall, which apparently was "SEARS! I LOVE SEARS!" "Yeah, let's go in Sears!" It was unanimous.

"Okay, here are my rules before we go in!" I tried to be motivating. "No touching. No screaming. No climbing on tractors. And no running! If you don't listen, we are NOT getting Icees later."

Within seconds, I kid you not, seconds - all four of my rules had been broken. 4-year-old was running, 8-year-old was climbing on a tractor, 10-year-old was dragging toolboxes off high shelves while screaming. And of course, there was Miss Sarah, quietly threatening: "Stop it! Stop. It. STOPPIT!"

A smug Sears employee came over. "Can I heeelllppppp youuu?"

"That's it. WE'RE LEAVING!" I hissed at the boys as I herded them back out of the store.

So the mall was a dud. That's okay! The kids are just tired. They'll settle down in the car. 

"WINDOWS DOWN! WINDOWS DOWN!" All three chanted as I buckled the 4-year-old.

"Boys who don't behave in the mall don't get their windows down," I preached, getting in the driver's seat and promptly activating the child-lock on the windows.

Slowly, the level of chaos in the back of the car escalated. Fart Noises. Arguing. Saliva. I didn't even want to know. THEN, 4-year-old got his hair pulled by 10-year-old and let out a blood-curdling shriek that nearly caused us to swerve off the road, and Miss Sarah snapped.

"BOYS! I SWEAR TO - I - WE - We are NOT getting Icees on the way home now like I said we would!!"

Silence in the back seat. Then: "Icccceees. Iccceees. ICEES! IIIICCCEEESSS!" The dreaded chant-till-we-get-what-we-want had begun.

"NO ONE GETS ICEES!" Miss Sarah yelled. "NO ONE!"

Silence in the backseat.

"If. You all. Keep your mouths. SHUT. Maaaaybe. We will get. Icees." Miss Sarah wished for a brown bag to breathe into.

Silence persisted, which was - good, right? I turned the radio on and enjoyed the calm, which lasted LESS than the duration of Justin Beiber's "Sorry".

Suddenly a strong, strong wave of chemicals hit me in the face. I spun around to face the backseat and saw 8-year-old holding down the sprayer on a can of sunscreen he'd found on the floor in the back of the car. Apparently all three kids were mesmerized by the white mist of sunscreen slowly filling the air. "ARE YOU STUPID?!" I barked. "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" I rolled all the windows down in a frenzy.

"YEAAAAAH! WINDOWS!" All three screamed victoriously. "WE GOT WINDOWS DOWN!"

Kids: 1
Miss Sarah: -5

Finally, we were home, Icees sweating in smug little hands.

"Let's go on a walk!" Miss Sarah suggested haphazardly as the kids all started raiding the living room looking for their electronics.

"Ughhhhh," 10-year-old whined. "You just want to get your 10,000 steps in!" He was right.

4-year-old pedaled ahead of us on his tricycle, 8-year-old had his scooter, and 10-year-old had picked the skateboard. I was pulling 10-year-old by the hand while he crouched on his vehicle of choice, and when 8-year-old looked behind him and saw this personalized display of attention, he decided to throw a fit. "THAT'S MY SKATEBOARD!" He suddenly announced (fifteen minutes INTO our walk). "Get offffff it!"

When 10-year-old refused, 8-year-old kicked me (naturally).

"HEY!" I jumped. "Don't touch me, ya meanie!"

8-year-old announced, "I'm not moving from this spot until I get my skateboard!"

I tried to reason with him, saying he could have his turn on the NEXT loop around the neighborhood, and he just needed to wait his turn. BUT NO. There was no logical conclusion other than "I WANNIT! GIMME!"

"Fine, you don't wanna move?" I was peeved. "We'll stand here all night!" And the 3 of us stood there in the middle of the road while 4-year-old pedaled around us in circles.

After about 3 minutes (which felt looooooong) 8-year-old burst into tears, stomped over to the grass, and threw himself onto the ground. "LEAVE ME HERE TO DIEEEE!" He bellowed. "IF I CAN'T HAVE MY SKATEBOARD, what's the... point..." His screams faded into sobs.

Wow. Whatever was in those icees has turned my children into monsters, I thought.

But really, it's always this way. Crazy. Frustrating. Maddening. But yet, every Monday, I still find myself looking forward to it. Because I'll never, ever, EVER be bored on a Monday.

Career Paths For The Open-Minded Lady

As my junior year of college looms, I've been putting a lot of thought into my future career, and whether or not I really DO want to go into the world of business. Frankly, there's a whole universe of job options out there, and I think it's important to keep a realistic, yet optimistic view, of your potential in the working world.

Here are a few career paths you might not have entertained, but that I think are great options to consider alongside your film, sociology, or women's studies majors. You know. Just in case.

1. Crazy Goat Lady

This is my go-to option in case finance doesn't work out. Imagine - a little bungalow in the woods. All appears normal. You walk through the quaint, creaky house and approach the back porch. Upon opening of the door to the deck, however, you are met with a giant swarm of goats! Because you are a crazy goat lady. You have goats. BUT REALLY, this could be a goat sanctuary. You could sell goats' milk products and weave yourself wild scarves out of goat fur, you could walk your goats downtown on a hand-woven leash, meanwhile attracting undue attention to your eccentricity. It's a no-brainer.

2. Foliage Translator

How many times have you walked the streets of your town and thought: "those bushes are so quiet". Well, if we are supposed to be a voice for those who have no voice, I can think of no better calling than to give a voice to your local foliage! It's a relatively simple job. You stand by bushes (or trees, or weeds - whatever!) and wait for a passerby to approach. "Excuse me, sir, The Bush has something to say!" *wiggles fingers inside the bush, caresses leaves gently, shuts eyes tightly* "The Bush is pleased with you! The Bush says you will have good fortune today." This career is especially needed in our local area, Asheville.

3. Dressing Room Mentor

Hello, my name is Sarah and I'm here to offer you a free psychological assessment while you try on your clothes! Unlike the typical office set-up where your clients would be seated across from you, in this non-traditional format, the psychologist has their own office inside one dressing room cube and communicates via very loud talking to patients that are in their own, private stalls. Trying on clothes is the perfect time to delve into mental, emotional, and even spiritual issues as your clients are already at their most vulnerable state. Self-esteem issues especially are able to be addressed in this setting. "Now, how does it to feel to no you can no longer fit in a size 4? Okay, and have you come to peace yet about being a size 8? WAIT ARE YOU CRYING?! Here's a tissue *passes tissue under dressing room partition*"

4. Produce Selection Assistant

Imagine how convenient it would be if you sent your husband to the store and somehow he came home with perfect, ready-to-eat avocados, EVERY TIME! No more worrying that your boyfriend will come home with overripe cantaloupe or unripened kiwis that he grabbed willy-nilly! NO. Fret no more, because a well-trained, detail-oriented Produce Selection Assistant will be there to feel that fruit for him. If you're interested in this field, I recommend shadowing a veteran shopper at your local supermarket. If you see an older, well-dressed lady squeezing a variety of fruits and vegetables - follow her. Make notes. Take pictures. Learn all you can. This job is about more than fruit. This job will save marriages.

5. Prince Harry Stalker

If you want to be rich, this job is not for you. Much like art majors, being a Prince Harry Stalker is its own reward. It's to be done for the love of the craft, not the monetary gain. This job is wonderful because it includes lots of traveling, mainly in Europe! Now, while this position can be research intensive, it also includes looking at A LOT of pictures of Prince Harry - so that should help make the time fly. All in all, this career is a great blend of travel, research, and sometimes screaming and crying while Buckingham Palace guards drag you away. It's definitely one to write home about, and the good news is that you don't even need a college degree! In fact, I recommend taking your 50,000 dollars you were going to spend on a degree and putting it towards your airfare to England!

I hope you were inspired by these alternative career options. Be sure to keep an open mind as you go through college, because there ARE plenty of job opportunities that might have gotten overlooked by your advisors. THIS IS YOUR LIFE, kids. Take control. Find the career that fits you.

My Summer: Where I Will And Won't Be

I change plans like celebs change their hair: often.

I like to think it’s not because I’m high maintenance, a diva, or really flaky – rather, I choose to believe that it’s due to my acute level of self-awareness that my plans change so often! I’m just adapting to the ever-changing environment that is Sarah Kane’s emotional and social terrain! *eye roll*

Here's a list of plans in my life that have changed in the past YEAR alone:

Attending Western Carolina University 

Attending Agnes Scott College

Dating

Working at Target

Being a brunette

Learning how to knit

and now:

Spending my summer at Lutheridge

*deep breath before plunging into emotional turmoil*

*PLUNGE*

I loved being a counselor at Lutheridge last year. It served a great purpose in my life spiritually, socially, and in many other ways that perhaps no one will ever hear about. But this plan is changing, and I will no longer be packing up my bags and heading off to “A Place Apart” for three months.

This choice was hard - I mean hard - for me to make. Anyone who’s been a counselor at Lutheridge knows it is a really great environment filled with relationships, spiritual growth, and FUN! And I myself am still plagued with doubts that tell me I could have, or should have included camp in my summer.

AND, despite the fact that I do have a legitimate, understandable reason for not returning to camp (which, no, you're not missing - I'm purposely not explaining it because you could just watch a Soap Opera instead) it still HURTS to have to make that choice. LEMME TELL YOU. It stinks to have to give up something good just because of one bad situation – one bad person.

Oh, *sigh*. It is the right choice. Even though it makes me sad.

BUT WHO WANTS TO BE SAD! *shoots confetti into the air, blows party horn and giggles maniacally*

The part that’s not sad is that in lieu of Lutheridge I will be spending the summer with my dad and his work crew, traveling the U.S. and working hard in the sun and the rain and under the warm metal of airplanes (AND I LIKE PLANES). In between trips, I’ll be at home – resting and preparing for the new school year, cuddling my babies at the YMCA, driving my boys to baseball every Monday, typing up spreadsheets in my dad’s office, and of course, WRITING ABOUT ALL OF IT!

This will be a good experience, in its own, different way. There won’t be campers, there won’t be communion, there won’t be face-painting and foot-stomping songs and eating pudding every week.

But there will be laughter, there will be sun, there will be challenges, there will be TRAVELING, and there will be, throughout it all, my open mind – ready and waiting for whatever comes my way.

My plans have changed.

The fact I’m going to have a good summer, a summer I need, hasn’t.

Arranged Marriage: Pros and Cons

Today my mother confided in me that my dad said to her, one night, in all seriousness: "So... we really do have to get her an arranged marriage, don't we?"

Well, I'm not too appalled by the idea. I've had too many "dates gone awry" lately to feel sufficiently confident in my own man-landing abilities. The real concern is, can my parents AFFORD to pay off someone to take me?!

I made a pros and cons list like I often do, to help myself sort through - well - the pros and cons.

PROS AND CONS OF AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE

Pros: 

Guaranteed results*

Nice story for posterity

Easy

Parents have good taste so he'll be hot/smart/nice

Lower divorce rates

No more awkward dates

Cons:

Expensive for my parents
Self-esteem issues due to inability to find man on own

*results = man

Well, I'm glad that's settled. After weighing the pros and cons, I've decided an arranged marriage is the way to go. Money, pshh. That can be made. And self-esteem? It's not like THAT can get any lower than it already is, so we only have "up" to go from here! So the "cons" really aren't deal breakers in this case.

Thanks, daddy, for that heartfelt comment that sparked such a serious look into a legitimate option. Meanwhile, I'm going to carry on with college, work, and my social life AS IF I am going to have an arranged marriage... because really, everything is arranged anyway. It's all a matter of who's doing the arranging - your parents, yourself, your cult... you know what I mean. *dances away slowly*

Vulnerability: EW NO!

Awkward topic, but lately I've been having some trouble with... well... something every girl has.

Yes.

THE V WORD.

Vulnerability, obviously.

*long scream of anguish*

Vulnerability, OH NO! It's what we are all trying to avoid!

Personally, I have a large number of things on my "vulnerability prevention" list. It all starts when I wake up in the morning and hastily feel around my bathroom counter for my under-eye concealer. Then, I check my Instagram and delete any posts that, well, didn't get enough likes the day before to be worthy of keeping. *embarrassed laugh* And thennnnnn, I get dressed in clothes that don't make me look like I'm "trying too hard" (even though I'm trying so, so hard) and then I start with the most basic, and yet most crucial social interactions of the day: texting people!

Now maintaining your unassailable, bulletproof invulnerability through your texting relationships requires skillful calculations on an appropriate amount of time to wait before replying to a message. And when you DO answer, there's a level of casual flippancy you need to maintain, or else you might sound DESPERATE (and even if you, like me, are TOTALLY desperate, we do NOT want anyone to know!).

For instance, here's an example of how NOT to respond to texts:

Friend: Hey do yuo want hang out later
You: OMG IM SO LONELY YESSS!! Can we hang out right now?! I'm not doing anything!!! I've actually been waiting for someone to text me all day yes let's hang out, and we can hang out tomorrow too even because I'm free then too and I like hanging out with you sooooo much!

This reply, no matter how honest, is, unfortunately, going to make you vulnerable. And what are we trying to avoid? VULNERABILITY! YEAH!

Hopefully, you've caught on by now to the fact that I'm being bitterly sarcastic and I'm actually going to talk about how greeeeaaaat vulnerability is. Wasn't sure how to transition into that, so, consider this your transition:

*swirly windchime music dooo dooo doooooooloolololollllooooo*

The "V word" freaks us out. And rightly so, because duh - the word itself means "at risk of being totally hurt and hating yourself for your choices later" (definition from "Real Life Definitions of Words" by Sarah Kane, page 67) and that doesn't sound good, does it?

But, here's some made-up Sarah Kane philosophy for ya:

When you change yourself (your words, your looks, your actions) to better cater to those around you in order to AVOID vulnerability (aka the posibility of rejection!) you have already been rejected.

BY:

YOU!

You've rejected yourself before anyone has a chance to! And that's a shame. You've lost a bit of your genuine, real self... for what purpose? Because it puts you at risk of rejection? So you reject it anyway? THAT MAKES SENSE.

NOT!

What if, instead of rejecting parts of ourselves that scare us, we OWN them. That way, if those things DO get rejected by people around us, it won't matter (much). Because those things have already been acknowleged, accepted, and OWNED by the one person who really decides if they're important! You, ya dummy.

Personally, I've got some qualities (and stories) that make me feel vulnerable, but it's been incredibly freeing to me to show myself compassion in those departments. That way, when I DO share with people, I do in a sense become vulnerable, but not negatively, by focusing only on the fact that I can be totally trampled and rejected - more in the sense that I have opened a door for someone to come into the hard places and accept them with me. And if they can't do that, then they had their chance and they should probably not be given a free annual membership to the "Sarah Kane's Deep Thoughts And Honest Stories" club.

And that's their loss. We having a party up in here.

So, to close this very rambly blog, I hope you find people that you can share your vulnerablities with. The first person being yourself.

Application For Friendship With Sarah Kane

By popular demand, here is the application you'll need to complete if you want to be my friend. Send completed applications to besarahsfriend@gmail.com or simply copy and paste the form into the comments below. The review process is very rigorous, and of course due to a high volume of applications it may take 7 to 14 business day for me to get back to you. Thanks for applying to be Sarah's friend!

Part One: Personality type
Agree or Disagree
1. I consider myself a bitter, grumpy cynic.
2. My thought process looks similar to someone attempting to cook a four-course meal with only a microwave and one spoon.
3. I cry anywhere between 2 and 17 times a week.
4. I am not opposed to being emotionally intimate with someone described as a "hot mess".
5. The concept of romance simultaneously excites and disgusts me.

Please list your favorite song to cry to while driving around at night.

Part Two: Coffee preferences and diet
Agree or Disagree
1. Emotional calories are just as important as physical calories.
2. "Sugar-free" options are a paradox and a sacrilege.
3. Dunkin Donuts is better than Starbucks but both are perfectly acceptable at all times.

Please describe your favorite beverage.

Part Three: Interests
Agree or Disagree
1. I prefer an ambling pace to more rigorous activities like running.
2. Nature is best when experienced in 4-hour segments or less.
3. Observing people is often more rewarding than interacting with them.
4. Humor is more important than honesty (except when personal safety is involved).
5. Laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling can sometimes be a form of yoga, aka, fitness.

Please describe your favorite way to waste time and avoid productivity. 



Good luck!