Category: me

I can hardly believe that tonight I will spend the last night in the apartment we lovingly call The Deuce. A year and a half ago, three excited, happy, somewhat messed-up, ordinary girls moved in, glad to be escaping their former place of residence with its rude management, broken air conditioner, and slow maintenance staff. We were great roommates, and better friends.

Seven months later, Megan was sleeping in the bed across the room from mine, and Carmen and I converged downstairs as we both had to leave for school or work. We went to the door to leave, and there was a letter waiting for us. “Dear Carmen & Kat,” it began. Carmen gave it one glance and said to me, “I can’t read this right now or I’ll cry. You take it.” It was the morning of Megan’s wedding, and after she was married she would be moving across the country to New Jersey. We were both already feeling her absence acutely.

When Megan moved out I took over the room. I had to fill it up and get excited about making it my own or else it would be too sad. But the excitement and comfort of my own space didn’t keep me from having a breakdown a week later, partly having to do with a romantic relationship that was falling apart, but a lot to do with a best friend that I had come to rely on who was now gone. I don’t deal with change very well.

Carmen and I adjusted to our new situation and we became closer than ever. We were sometimes each other’s only real friend in this city. But a month ago she moved her things into a storage space in Austin, which included most of our furniture, and moved herself away as well. The apartment became empty in more ways than one. Thankfully this time around I have a romantic relationship that is not falling apart to keep me occupied, but I have spent less time at home than ever before.

A week ago I moved the remainder of the living room furniture into my parents’ house for them to keep. I will have new roommates soon, and my $50 garage sale couch won’t be needed anymore. I quit grocery shopping about a month ago to force myself to eat what I have and clean out the pantry. I started packing up my books and other belongings a week ago, although I’m not finished yet. When I come in the door now I head straight to my room, the one place that retains a semblance of homeyness, where I can close the door and imagine that the apartment looks just like it always has outside, with Carmen just down the hall, her clothes hanging to dry on the banister.

The fellowship of those three ordinary girls has broken apart. Each of us has moved on to a new phase of life: Megan to marriage and seminary, Carmen to graduate school, and me to new roommates and an apartment with granite countertops in an area of town in which my boyfriend won’t beg me not to walk outside alone. I know I have a lot to look forward to in my life, but a part of me knows that what the three of us had–not just our comfort in being roommates or our friendship in this unique phase of life, but the feeling of family–was special beyond words and now we can’t ever get it back in the same way.

So I will do what I have to do and I will make the best of it with my new roommates, who actually are good friends of mine. We will paint the walls of our new apartment and hang pictures and make it look oh so cute. We will forge our new pattern of life and fall into our routines and learn each other’s schedules. We will become closer friends, and maybe there will be tension sometimes but we will work it out. I will love it because I am easily pleased. But in the back of my mind I will picture Carmen’s messy room across the hall and the perpetual sound of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV downstairs whenever Megan was around…and I will want it all back.

I drove to class this morning because I’m not staying at my own apartment and don’t know the bus routes from where I am. There was traffic, of course, and I was exhausted. I really think that driving while tired is probably similar to driving drunk. I felt so unsafe. There was whole periods of like ten or fifteen seconds that my eyes would glaze over or even close, and then I would jerk myself back to reality and a rush of fear would come over me because, really, anything could have happened in those ten seconds. I tried most of the strategies I could think of to keep me awake: I called my boyfriend (woke him up), slapped myself in the face, rolled down the window, turned up the radio, and sang. I eventually made it to the parking garage without killing myself or anyone else, praise God. But THEN, I was so out of it and so anxious to get to class that I just started crossing streets without really looking at what was coming. I almost stepped right in the path of a moving MetroRail train. Thankfully, the pedestrians (who were Metro workers) on the other side of the tracks called out to me and got me to stop; unfortunately I had to stop in the middle of a street with oncoming traffic approaching, which was awkward. Then, as I crossed, the Metro workers proceeded to look at me like I was an idiot. I probably would have too. I’m not an idiot, I just need some more sleep. But while I’m making confessions, I will say that I text while driving too much, and I hereby publicly resolve to quit! OK, and I do on occasion read while driving, which is probably not good either. So there are my guilty pleas; feel free to share your thoughts.

During my freshman year of high school I took a Spanish class in which I sat across from a girl that I recognized from the school soccer team that I was a part of. We were both shy and quiet in class and so didn’t talk to each other much. But as the year went along we became friendly because sports has a way of throwing people together like that. One day in class we were given an assignment to make a crossword puzzle out of vocabulary words and then switch with a partner. I knew for sure we were going to be friends when I got mine back from her and there were pictures drawn all over it with words like, “Good luck tonight” doodled in the corners.

Becca and I did become friends. The next year I visited her church, and immediately after announced to my parents that I would be going there from then on. Looking back, this was a defining moment in my life. This church is where I met most of my best high school friends, and it is the reason I chose the college I did.

The first summer I could, I went with the youth group on the annual mission trip to a village in the mountains of Mexico. After working hard during the days, every night we would sit together as a group outside our tents to sing, talk about the day, and to reflect. One night near the end of the week we were given the chance to talk one-on-one. Becca and I began to talk shyly, but soon enough all of our struggles in life gushed out and our friendship was solidified. We made a decision to help each other with our problems, and committed ourselves to being honest with each other. On the drive home from the trip we stopped at a Mexican market for a quick shopping trip and Becca and I bought beaded rings to wear as a symbol of our friendship.

Two weeks after our return from the mission trip, Becca and I found ourselves at church camp. One day we were swimming in the lake playing a water polo game with a watermelon covered in lard. Typical church camp stuff. When the frenzy of the game subsided and it was time for dinner, I realized that during the commotion my ring had slipped off my finger. I was devastated. I now thought of Becca as my best friend, even though I didn’t tell her so, and I hated the thought of losing that precious symbol. So we started diving to the bottom of the lake and searching for it. We both felt that it was hopeless, but I couldn’t just walk away, and she never protested. After at least half an hour of searching, I was ready to give up. As a last effort I threw a prayer up to God and decided to dive down one last time. My hand fell right on top of the ring, and I truly believed that I had experienced a miracle. Although the ring is broken now, I have never been able to throw it away.

Becca and I went to the same small college, although she was a year ahead of me. When I left home for the first time it was with her; we drove the 11 hours together and my parents followed a few days later. We played soccer together, pulled pranks such as stealing license plates (I was the lookout girl) and stringing them up on campus, Naired our arms and got burned from it, and even became roommates. We didn’t have the type of friendship that could fall apart because of that.

There was always something about her that everyone noticed. She was (and is) and amazing soccer player, and she received loads of awards for it. She scored the goals and I passed her the ball. I remember one game where our team wasn’t playing well and at halftime our coach, who I always looked up to and wanted to please, said, “The only one out there who’s doing anything is Becca!” Nothing could have motivated me more. I wanted to be like her.

When she graduated from college, she moved to Baltimore to do a year of voluntary service working with inner city kids. During that time we dreamed and planned on how we were going to move to Dallas together after I graduated and she finished out her year of service. My mom and I even went and looked at houses for us, and came very close to signing a lease. But I just couldn’t do it without having a job. Nothing was coming through for us in that area, and everything was working out for me to stay in Houston. It was one of the most difficult things for me to tell Becca that I wouldn’t be moving to Dallas, because I knew that she wouldn’t want to come to Houston. I knew we might not ever live in the same place again. Instead she moved back to Wichita, and that is where she is still.

Now we see each other once or twice a year, and we talk on the phone every few weeks. The situation is not ideal. But one of the reasons I look forward to heaven is that I will have all of the people I know and love the most gathered in one place, instead of scattered across the world. When Becca got engaged last March, I had not even met her fiance. It seemed so strange.

On Sunday evening I stood next to Becca in bare feet underneath the willow tree by the lake. I held her bouquet of lilies and wildflowers as she took the hands of the man she loves and became his forever. I sang while they took communion; their first act together as a married couple. I watched as they embraced at the end of the aisle, unable to be apart any longer. She is my best friend. She is happy, and so am I.

Well, this list was actually quite hard to come up with. I like to think it’s because I am a very positive and optimistic person. I was trying to limit the amount of foods that I include here (seeing as how I’m the world’s pickiest eater), but then I just gave in. So let’s go ahead and get all the food products out of the way, shall we?

1) Milk – skim milk in cereal is acceptable, but that’s it. I once tried cereal with water, because I thought it would be great if I could eliminate milk from my diet entirely. But it was disgusting, so the skim milk remains. But I keep a close eye on that expiration date.
2) Peanut butter and peanuts
3) Seafood – I WILL gag. Maybe even vomit.
4) Vegetables – with a very few exceptions.
5) Tea
6) Chicken on the bone
7) Wine – I have sincerely tried to like it. I doubt I ever will.
8 ) Whipped cream
9) White chocolate
10) Cheesecake

OK, I’m limiting myself to ten food products. So! On we go with the rest!

11) Asymmetry
12) Baths – you are sitting in your own filth. That’s all I have to say.
13) Having my car towed
14) Change
15) Roaches
16) Sunburns
17) Moving
18) Chevy Impalas
19) Reckless and/or extremely fast drivers – when I encounter one on the road for some reason all the rage within me bubbles up to the surface.
20) Smoking – it is the leading preventable cause of death. And I am not very good at being around smoke.
21) Snow – good for skiing, and that’s about it.
22) Beeping noises – which I hear ALL DAY LONG at work
23) MySpace
24) Northern accents
25) Yard art – unfortunately my parents are becoming connoisseurs of it. Hi Mom and Dad!
26) Carbonated or flavored water
27) Automatic paper towel dispensers
28) The 800m run – I ran this race in junior high and I was good at it but I despised it. Someone told me once that the three hardest races are the 800m, the 300m (or 400m) hurdles, and the mile. I ran all three of those. In high school we were required to be timed on the 800m for soccer tryouts, and I seriously began getting nervous about it months before.
29) Crowded buses and trains
30) Mullets
31) Clutter
32) Spit/Saliva/Mucus
33) When I can hear people chewing their gum, even if they’re not smacking
34) Migraines
35) The number 9
36) Victoria’s Secret
37) So-called “modern” dance, art, and music
38) Oklahoma – I apologize to you Oklahomans; it is not my intention to offend you. I admit my main experience of Oklahoma comes from driving through it from Texas to Kansas, and the couple of times that I visited Oklahoma City and some random small towns. So maybe there are some better parts of Oklahoma out there, I just don’t know about them right now. And I will say that I like Oklahoma people a lot.
39) Cleaning the bathtub
40) Ties worn by women
41) The far left
42) The far right
43) Politics in general, to be honest. I really try to be more informed and interested. It’s just very hard for me.
44) This mole on my back that I’m worried will one day turn cancerous.
45) Gambling – especially poker; excluding Bingo, which I love.
46) Those big blow-up Christmas decorations which seem to be an epidemic in recent years
47) Waking up to an alarm
48) Really low speed limits
49) The giant crack in my windshield
50) Loud engines