Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Living the Mundane-
Life is beautiful and good. And its always a choice to live it that way. Don't take it for granted. Always remember that at least one person loves and respects you more than you will ever realize. Be thankful for the simple things, indulge slightly, and challenge your strenghts everyday. Embrace love and family and friendships and remember to give more than you receive. Remind yourself to smile everyday. Everyone looks better with a smile on their face. Don't forget that you are one of many but still an individual. Be humble and gracious. Be outstanding. Forgive. Take risks and try something you think you can't do. Set boundaries to keep a balance. Be meaningful in everything you do, say, and feel. Be the change you seek. Speak your opinion. Be informed. Laugh when you fall. Don't take yourself too seriously. Learn from your friends. Teach something new to your elders. Let go when its time and be thankful for the lift, ride the wind of living and don't look back (for too long).
Just live.
*K-Ross
Sunday, January 24, 2010
FLAMBOYANT WEEZY
Friday, August 28, 2009
With Love, Fennifer
Dear Tourist,
Friday, May 29, 2009
So there was this guy, and he died.
On the bright side, I enjoy my job as a dispatcher. I’m being paid a ridiculous amount of money to say “copy” on the radio. Of course, things go wrong: busses break down and toilets flood the communal bathrooms. We’re basically the 911 of Denali National Park, which carries more responsibility than I like to think about sometimes. My number will be up sometime soon when something really goes wrong and I have to solely respond to it.
I had the day off when a new guy from Utah, who was working at the Wilderness Access Center (where I did last year), passed away on Monday. He rode the bus up with us from Anchorage. Being 21, his first question was “where’s the closest liquor store?” which I thought nothing of, since everyone seems to be a raging alcoholic around here. Things seemed to go downhill quickly for him as soon as he got here. He was always very, very drunk during the daytime, and showed up for only two of the seven shifts he was scheduled for. He had a doctor’s note and test results pending for pneumonia and giardia, but went to the bar every night and often had a cigarette in hand. One afternoon I was leaving my room for work and watched him stumble onto his porch –directly across from ours- and sit down to cradle his head, dry-heaving. In the meantime, he was peeing in his shorts. It was a sad thing to witness, but annoyed me all the same to see someone waste a highly-paid seasonal job that people are literally clawing down the door to get. When I got to work, I asked whether I should report what I saw, but it didn’t go anywhere because the kid wasn’t on the clock.
A few days later he was terminated, but he seemed pretty positive about finding a job at one of the hotels as a dishwasher even though we all quietly knew he wouldn’t be able to hold that job down, either. The bags under his eyes were grey and the eyes themselves were glossy and vacant. I had this feeling about him that night that I expressed to Dana, that I didn’t think he would make it. As if to make things even weirder, “Venus in Furs” was playing on a loop in my head – a poignant scene in that Gus van Sant movie “Last Days”, about the final days in Kurt Cobain’s life. I think people have an intuition about these things, whether they are in tune with it at the time or not.
I slept in that next morning, and woke up when they found him. People were scrambling around in a panic. He had asphyxiated in his sleep and when one of the drivers attempted CPR, the kid had already been gone for hours. Park Service Law Enforcement stepped in and handled things until the ambulance took him away to Fairbanks. They found 8 empty handles of liquor in his room, and he’d only been here for 10 days.
It all wouldn’t have been so traumatic if he wasn’t my neighbor across the way. All day long I saw him lying there on the floor, lifeless and stiff, people with gloves hovering over him taking measurements, yellow tape around the dorm. It was the first fresh dead body I’d ever seen. Death confronts all of us at some point and when it does, it takes time for anyone involved to process. I’ll spare everyone the platitudes from here on out. I just can’t get over how young he was, or how tormented he must have been, or whether his actual intention was to drink himself to death. It’s been a few days now and things have seemingly returned to normal, but I find myself looking at his empty dorm room, thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t know him well, and can’t help but feel guilty about thinking of him as an irresponsible kid that didn’t realize how good he had it. But it’s strangely consoling to realize that his time was simply up on this earthly plane, and that’s just how cold and final things are.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Premise: Bleach is Bad. Discuss
Dear friends,
After an indulgent cleaning frenzy yesterday, I woke up a different person. I had a splitting headache and was slow in speech and action. This general slowing down of events probably made my boyfriend happy, but I felt a strange void – the void that could only result from a frontal lobotomy. I took an online IQ test the other day, and given the results, it felt as though the halfway intelligent part of my brain simmered down to my scored Arithmetic level, which hovers dangerously above room temperature. I had difficulty formulating complete thoughts, though I did gain supernatural empathy powers for the guests on today’s Maury Povich.
You see, I went a little crazy in the heavily-fragranced and chemical-filled isle at Walmart and bought all kinds of scented candles and some Arm & Hammer bathroom cleaner. My mom’s visiting this weekend and I don’t want her to think I’ve lost my obsessive-compulsive edge. My philosophy with regard to cleaning product has always been this: the natural stuff is all nice and good for the environment; but will it kill HIV? I don’t think so! Will it eradicate all of the E. Coli and Lysteria gracing my food preparation areas? No way, Jose! I go with major duty killer. When I’m done with a bathroom, I like to see an entire layer of skin peel off of my working hand. It’s proof of its beautiful, corrosive efficiency.
But given the extent of my hangover for last night’s fun, I am reconsidering my point of view.
I guess I huffed some bleach by accident, and got pretty messed up on it, man. It makes me wonder about people that are actually addicted to inhalants, like this one show I watched on A&E called “Intervention” (which ranks a close second to “Ghost Shows - Category” in awesomeness). There was a well-groomed young woman who was addicted to chemical duster, and would go out to hardware stores and buy out their entire stock. She’d sit on her couch, pet her cat, take a hit, and then drool on herself for a couple of hours. She’d come to, and then it was wash-rinse-repeat. (She, for obvious reasons, wasn’t a fan of the actual “intervention” part of the show, though. I cried when animal control repo-d her cat.)
I have hypothesized before that I might be sensitive to chemicals added in cleaning products. One time I was cleaning my old apartment in Jackson Hole and thought it would be a great idea to clean the radiators with this natural looking orange stuff I bought. I thought it was milder than other brand-name agents because it smelled like oranges that had gone bad–for many years - and it was my logic that dead, decomposing things would make good decomposers of grime and filth; compost in a bottle if you will. It cleaned like a charm, but I woke up at 3 a.m., just long enough after the heater kicked in, and emptied the contents of my stomach in my extremely sanitary bathroom.
I guess there was a reason I printed out the 65 Ways to use Baking Soda to use for cleaning. I’m going to use this method in the future. Those old housewives ain’t be playin’, ain’t they?
Update: Baking soda works like a charm, and has fast become my agent of choice. It doesn’t release highly noxious gases. Plus, it creates a wonderful paste that is abrasive enough to clean even the most stubborn of porcelain bathroom sinks. Even better: you can use the remaining paste from the sink to brush your teeth, then use the remainder of THAT to wash your vegetables of residual pesticides, and maybe then cook up some crack (if time permits). Baking soda is basically the Wunder Kind of all cleaning products. It is to cleaners as Mozart was to Classical Music: a little sassy ,naughty, and flirtatious, but always ingenious!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I know I have the tendency to complain a lot, but I have come to accept that this is my nature, and self-acceptance is more important than depriving myself of the compulsive need to whine. I'm sorry that I have trouble putting up with mediocrity. I really am. I'm not always a pessimist; I have love for many things on this earthly plane at the moment. I love the convenience of the portable french press coffee maker my manager bought me in support of my boycott of the coffee house near work (see blog entry: "I want to cut her"). I love watching ghost and paranormal-oriented shows on Hulu, though at this point I have exhausted all of the episodes but have discovered a new favorite: "Lie to Me". It's great; it's an overly analytical show about facial expressions in criminal profiling. I LOVE it. My world may be small at the moment, but it is filled with things that are great.I also love watching Burmese cats meowing on YouTube. There was the cutest one ever with two of these cats cuddled up with a new-born baby. They're purebred yet, again, I will not settle for some mediocre street cat born in a dumpster........ well, ok, I would if it were left in a basket on my doorstep, but that's beside the point:
http://www.gotpetsonline.com/pictures/gallery/cats/shorthaired-cats/burmese/burmese-0024/
You may think I jest, but over the years I have come to think that it is my fate in life to start a cat farm, where the beautiful Burmese breed can wander freely and meow to their hearts' delight. The Farm might be called something like "Caitlin's Cat Cash Crop", but I won't settle on anything before I draw up the business plans:
http://www.ehow.com/how_2082719_start-animal-sanctuary.html
The cats will be bred first and foremost for loyalty, intergrity, honesty, and high cheekbones. Synonymous traits, you may argue, but each is unique in connotation.
Stay tuned. I'm thinking cat farm with a bed and breakfast on a large area of land, somewhere nice (it's environmental cat-tourism). We will have an acupuncturist on staff to help remedy guests' allergic reactions caused by excessive cat dander, as well as small Burmese children whose tiny, sanitized hands will pick out any hair that may have landed in the soup du jour. Upon departure, the guests may pick one of our highly socialized cats to take home with them for a substantial fee, after they have passed extensive credit and background checks. Our on-staff psychoanalyst will have to determine that adequate bonding has occurred between cat and prospective owner as to ensure the cats' quality of life. We will have a mandatory open adoption policy, so that I can routinely visit the kitties I helped bring into this world. A private jet will provide my transportation in visiting my cats in all corners of the world, and I will take the cats on field trips and try to get a sense of whether they are happy in their current living situation. If not, "mama bear", as I will call myself, will pack the cats onto the jet and fly back home to the ranch, where they can continue to contribute by fertilizing the organic sustainable community garden. It's really that simple.
-dillycait