Archive for May, 2012

Kailee is engaged.

This doesn’t mean anything to those of you who do not know Kailee, but this is a huge event!

Alan proposed under the stars, which is virtually all I know. And considering she gleefully told Facebook about it, I’d assume she said yes.

Kailee Pichey is going to be Kailee Piaskowski. I really ought to ask her to pronounce that for me sometime.

Kailee, if you’d like to know, is the sister of my best friend, Ashley.

Since I didn’t talk about her much yesterday, I guess I can explain how we met and why we’re best friends.

Ashley Pichey was in my 3rd grade class with the first male teacher I had: Mr. Allegar. For the entire school year, he’d be known as Abraham Lincoln. In retrospect, the man didn’t look anything like Abe Lincoln except for that he was tall and bearded and in a suit. Ashley and I were weirdos. She was the first person in that class to really talk to me. She invited the entire class to her Halloween Party and the girls were all invited to spend the night at her house for her birthday party. She always suggested we play games and watch horror movies during slumber parties. She always wanted to tell scary stories and urban legends and we found that this was what tied us together so instantly. Girls that were 8 years old or 9 years old just didn’t want to watch “Poltergeist” or “Rocky Horror Picture Show” etc. They didn’t want to watch “Mystery Science Theater 3000” and summon spirits or pretend they were witches like in “Charmed.” Ashley and I did.

Ashley and I have been best friends since then. I proved myself fun enough when I wasn’t afraid to go in the “haunted” attic of her house when her other friends were dared to, I’d take their place or offer to go with and then we’d laugh at what scaredy-cats they were. I’ve been through tons with her. The horrible house-keeping job (which I promise to talk about some day) was basically handed to me because of her. She was a supervisor there and she got me the job. We took each other to work to save gas money and ended up getting even closer in the process. Once you experience the same HORRID working environment as someone, I think it makes your relationship more solid. Not that it wasn’t already, but if anything, that job made us closer.

She’d probably murder Martin if he ever ripped my heart out. She’s a protective best friend, but she doesn’t overstep any boundaries. When I was with Mark, she bit her tongue, hating the crap out of him, but was always nice. It was never that Mark had been a bad person. It was just that he sort of held me back from being myself. I wasn’t as fun when I was with him. And he took up 3 years of my life. And I think Ashley and I sort of drifted during my relationship with him. She couldn’t stand him, but being my best friend, she kept quiet about it. Even when he proposed, she smiled and hugged me and congratulated me. She knew me well enough to know that there’s no way in hell I could marry him and that I’d realize it. That if she SAID that I shouldn’t marry him we would’ve fought. I would’ve ignored her. And she knows my inability to take advice. She knows me well. We’re in each others mind-tanks and I imagine her reading this right now saying “OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU FOR USING ‘MIND-TANKS!'” Then she’ll make fun of me for being dumb and mentioning it.

She’s my right-hand man, really. The main thing I miss while in Australia? I’d say Ashley every time. I love my mother and father, don’t get me wrong. I miss them a bit. But ASHLEY? She’d be so useful when Martin and his friends gang up on me. She’d cut them. Pft. And if one of them got too nasty? She’d tell them off, and I’d grin and just watch. She’s just the greatest friend you could have. Really.

Now, Ashley’s 22 (23 come November… older than me by a couple of months, though to look at us you’d assume I’m older. Everyone does). Kailee is her younger sister. I want to say she’s 20, but I’m not actually positive. I was 20 and engaged, so this whole thing has sort of made me nervous for her. I’m happy, completely. I’ve met Alan… and if you knew Kailee? And you saw them together? You’d just understand instantly why they’re so good for one another. They are a great couple. I’m sure they’ll be happy, and I’ll be invited to the wedding, and I’ll wear a fucking awesome dress, and Ashley and I will time-warp all over their wedding reception.

No need to let me know that was a  ridiculously long run-on sentence. I’m aware. It’s how I talk when I’m excited. Those who know me are probably reading this in my voice and nodding. Because yep… that’s how I talk. It’s often difficult for me to shut up. It’s a horrible habit. But, ah well.

Nothing of much interest has happened in the past 24 hours. I spoke to my mother this morning on skype. Nothing fascinating is happening on her end either.

After the chat with my mother, Martin and I dragged our sleepy butts out to the store to buy groceries. Today was BIG shopping day. We needed food I could pop in the oven for dinner. We needed snacks. We FORGOT to buy a light bulb for his bedroom again. So it’ll be another 24 hours or so before I can see what I’m doing in there. We needed paper towels. All sorts of things.

We got what we needed, but in the beverage aisle, we saw a sign under the 24 packs of coke cans. “$15” We were extremely excited because normally it’s like $30 for 24 cans of coke. So of course, we grabbed it. At the counter it rang up as “$24.89.” We said “No, it was $15 on the sign back there.” I went to show the front-end lady and the sign was gone. I said “Oh, maybe it was on sale and today the sale changed? Could someone have switched it? There was definitely a sign here.” She laughed at me and said “There’s no way 24 cans of coke was EVER $15.” I could’ve murdered her, I was so irritated. The sign damn well DID say “$15” and it was DEFINITELY for Coke. I ALWAYS check signs like that. We bought it for $24.89 anyway, though.

I was kind of bitter about it, and wanted to steal the cart out of spite to get the heavy groceries home, but Martin wouldn’t let me.

It may sound strange, but things like that make me love him a bit more. He’d feel too guilty if we stole a grocery store cart. He’s really a good guy. (She said, then turned her head and saw him scrolling 4chan… and seeing some nasty crap on it.)

Anyway, that was all that really happened today. We came home and smoked a little. I ate too many things I shouldn’t have eaten. Then he went to bed, and I accidentally fell asleep with him until about 2:30, when I woke up and played Diablo III until about 45 minutes ago.

I wish I had something fascinating to write about. But today was another lazy day.

I was thinking about the Power House. I want to get some great pictures, but to do that, I have to go on a sunny morning… and I need to get Harley to wake up early enough, and I’d LIKE to have Martin go with, but the likelihood of that happening is slim. It’s just such a cool place, and since I was speaking of Ashley, I KNOW she’d love to see pictures of that place. Hell, I’m positive she’d love to explore it some day. If I do end up coming back here for a good long time to stay? And I bring her over? That’ll be the first place she and I go together. She’d just absolutely love it. It’s exactly the place she and I would hang out in if we had a place like that near us. We’d do everything there.

I need to make it a thing before I leave. I don’t have a lot of time left before my inevitable return home.


That’s depressing.

New Goal: Do NOT cry about having to leave until the 24 hours before I have to leave.

Starting now…

Because I cried about it before… because I’m lame

Anyway, Martin just came over to investigate what I was up to. He stared and said “This is like role reversal.” He’s right. This is HIS job. He’s meant to be writing while I crawl over and cuddle the crap out of him, trying to snoop. Then he gets irritated with me and swats at me.

I don’t get irritated as easily by the interruption in my writing. I also don’t mind him reading anything I have to say. Where he has a steel lockbox surrounding all the thoughts that run through his mind? I have a book laying open in the middle of a crowded room. I just don’t need privacy the way he does sometimes. I’ve never been private. I just don’t see a need, I guess. Meh.

Anyway, I’m off. My shoulder is killing me from sitting, hunched over the laptop.


As far as first posts go, I’m positive this is going to be quite horrible and lame. Which means it’ll be average for a first. No one knows what to say in the beginning. When you’re asking yourself the questions, it’s hard to know where to begin.

“What does my audience want to know?”

“You have no audience, Katie. You’re essentially talking to the idea of a bunch of internet junkies stumbling across your blog. It’ll never be read, in all actuality.”

“Well, who would my ideal audience be?”

“Nerds. Nerds and extremely sweet people who are too nice to do anything but promote love and how awesome everyone is. The kind of person you hate so much because you wish you could be that person. Because that person doesn’t HATE anything. Or anyone. And hating her would be the equivalent of hating puppies and babies.”

“They’re too busy with loving people like Lee Newton, Felicia Day, and Zooey Deschanel. So, basically, hot nerdy girls who seem like they’d be completely awesome people int he real world. You are only the nerdy bit and you are not doing videos.You are sitting and staring at a computer screen. Your target doesn’t want you.”

This is what I do on a Sunday evening in Fremantle, Australia, while my boyfriend sleeps diagonally across the entire king sized bed in the other room. An hour left until I need to make sure he wakes up to go to his night shift job as a fish-processor.

I guess that’s a place to start. Martin. My boyfriend whose first name = my last name.

“Martin should marry you and take your last name… haha… get it? So he’d be Martin Martin?”

“Oh, how witty! I’ve never ever heard anyone say that before…”

No, honestly, it’s old. But the novelty never seems to wear off for people.

Anyway, I suppose he’s a big part of the story, huh? Martin Kewish. The man who forced me out of my computer chair and into the worst job I’ve ever known (which I can talk about some other time) so that I’d make half the money it takes to visit him in his beach-side apartment in Western Australia.

I met him on the internet. I meet everyone on the internet. Took a failed engagement to force me crawling back to stickam– A site where I spent some of my teen years making internet friends, avoiding real life, and trying to give myself a new start in the social world. I went back because no one there knew Mark(my now ex-fiancee).  I needed people who weren’t going to ask me questions. People who wouldn’t say “But, he was perfect and no one that good will probably ever love you… ever again.”

So I logged in to a new account on stickam, and wandered into a lame chat room that would later stop existing and shatter into a shit-ton of other chat rooms and now I’m rambling so we’re going to go back to the point.

A handful of shitty relationships later (over the course of the 2 years after Mark and I split), I was with Dan. Someone whose importance to my story resides simply in being the dial-tone I thought I loved before I was with Martin. He was predictable. He loved physics. And we had “nerdiness” in common. That’s pretty much it. But I’d known Martin a year by the time I was with Dan. Martin had just gotten out of his own long-distance relationship, and we sort of got talking because of his writing. He was keeping a blog that I fell sort of in love with. I cared about him too much too fast and he pushed me away. Martin disappeared for a few months while he was moving, and I started my relationship with Dan in that time. I couldn’t have known Martin was interested in me…

He came back and was meaner than necessary. He made fun of my relationship with Dan, and I was oblivious. It was none of his business. And what should he care?

One day he let me know that I was so irritatingly blind…

All it took was him admitting he had feelings for me… and Dan didn’t stand the remotest of chances.

Though it was one of the more difficult things I’ve done thus far, it was the most rewarding and nothing would ever make me want to go back and change it.

I’ve been with Martin for a little over a year. Though we’re counting our anniversary from the time we first met, (Sept. 2011) we agreed we’d hold off on pursuing any other sort of relationship with anyone until we met… and that agreement happened in April 2011.

So Martin’s a key player. He made me realize that traveling and getting the adventures I’d been craving was not nearly as impossible as I thought it might be. With his encouragement and motivational screaming, I am currently on trip #2 to Australia. Though he’s not very verbal about it, it’s good to know I have him behind me. He’s the reason I’m heading back to Clarion University of Pennsylvania to finish my education. To become the editor I desperately want to become.

(Side Note: If you ever see me referring to someone as “the Rat,” that’s Martin. And if you see a reference to “the Fox?” Me. We’re the Rat and the Fox and that’s all that needs to be said about it… Because I’m kind of lazy about writing out that story.)

Now that I’ve introduced Martin as a key player in my life, I suppose I could introduce some others. I’d introduce myself, but that feels so hinky, since I’m biased about myself. In the about me, I equate introducing myself to movie trailers and book blurbs. You just need to read/watch them to find out what they’re really about.

Sounds a little childish: But my mother’s probably a good place to go after Martin. Martin’s the closest person to me at present (literally, not emotionally, though he’s up there) which is why I thought of a sort of introduction to him first. My mother insists on Skype calls twice a week while I’m visiting him, so this is why my brain went to her next.

(Another side note: Assuming someone is reading this… if you find you’re following a weird path of dissociation? I’ll probably get on track again at some point or another. But if not, I’m afraid you’ll have to give up. I’m sort of all over the place when I tell my stories. Things remind me of other things and I ramble. Also: if my logic/rationalizations seem ridiculous? It’s because they are.)

My mother is a sweetheart of a woman. Sure, she grinds on my nerves and has a pile of Catholic guilt to dump on me (though she’s a Methodist Christian… go figure), but I can appreciate how sweet and wonderful my mother can really be after being away from her for a decent amount of time.

The last time I set foot in Australia, the woman insisted I speak to her every day (except for Tuesdays because we both had our shows to watch). She was sure that if she didn’t call one day, Martin would surely use that opportunity to sever all my limbs and throw me to the sharks. This time, since she knows I survived two months without being brutally murdered, she allowed me to get away with 2 calls a week, which I end up looking forward to, sometimes.

Lately, our calls are mostly gossipy or news-related. I haven’t done much I can tell her about (she doesn’t approve of things like smoking/drinking, getting tattoos, getting pierced, etc. even though I’m 22) so I can’t really give her a lot of stories. But she’s been catching me up on our family and what kind of things have been going on back in Kunkletown.

It’s annoyingly true and off-topic, but nothing ever happens in Kunkletown when I’m there. But as soon as I leave, people die, and relatives do stupid things.

All of my mother’s immediate family lives near us. Well, that’s unfair. Most of them do. My Aunt Nicki, Aunt Helen, Nana, cousins John (and his girlfriend Shirley) and Dottie (his ex-wife) and their kids (all grown) Corey and Willie (and his wife Tracey), Corey’s kids (Elizabeth 12, Lexi 3), Willie’s kids (Sydney 7, Drew 3… I think). And the whole gang has to get together for every little thing.

To explain them in detail will take more energy, and I’m sure something may come up in the future where I talk about these individuals. For now, however, I’ll only give the short version.

My mother was adopted by her Aunt. So my Nana (98-years-old) is actually my Great Aunt. But she raised my mother and for all intents and purposes? Is my grandmother. She’s the final remaining grandparent I have, and I’m her namesake. Even though her name is Cornelia. And not Katie. We share the same birthday, and she’s extraordinarily old so… she comes out on top every year.

“Oh, Katie aged as well?”

“Yes, she does do that… you know… occasionally.”

Every year on January 24th (or a weekend close to it), our family has a little get together for Nan’s birthday. Every year at the get together, someone sees the cake says “Nana and Katie” on it. And then that person who notices says “Oh! Kate! I forgot! It’s your birthday too!”

“Yeah, it’s okay. You do every year… so… cool.”

Not that birthdays are a big deal anymore. I’m 22, I only ever need money, and really, I could stand to lose about 20 lbs. or so, so I don’t need a shit ton of cake. But it’d be nice to get the acknowledgement, you know?

That was a tangent. Sorry.

Anyway, I have other important family members on my mother’s side that don’t live near us, but for now we’ll stick to the stories about the people I have more contact with.

I would go on in length about my Aunts on my mother’s side, but I haven’t even mentioned my father or brother (Scott). So, being tired, as I am, I’ll go on about them next, and save the Aunts for another time.

My father is probably one of the funnier characters in my story. Martin can be a riot in his own way, and my mother is accidentally hilarious, but my father? Just wins.

My father is 67 years old. My mother is only a few years younger than him, but is of a much younger mind-set than he is. She and I refer to him as ‘the old Curmudgeon.’ Because it’s just the perfect word to describe him, really. My dad’s name is Steve Martin. It implies he’s got a sense of humor that just doesn’t exist. My dad’s 6’3″ and has got this gut on him like he’s been downing beers every day since birth. He’s big, but not in a disgusting fatty way (which I realize may sound offensive… but… really… get over it). He’s just got a huge belly. It’s the only place he gains weight. Pear-shaped. He’s basically a tech-support guy for a living. But he’s great at what he does, and he enjoys it. I’m convinced he’ll work until he dies. He just is that way. He’s growing an incredibly white beard, though it’s still kind of in the short, stubbly-but-long, phase where it gives you rug-burn if you brush against it. He doesn’t like to pay for haircuts so he makes my mother cut it, and it’s always awful. He’s just a gruff sort of guy.

My father is never late for anything, and he gets really agitated if he is. He’s passed this trait on to me. I hate to be anything BUT early or on time. This is the only thing he nags anyone about, otherwise, he’s quiet and keeps almost entirely to himself. He likes politics, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, So You Think You Can Dance, Matilda, Legally Blonde, Harry Potter, Narnia, and sci-fi ANYTHING. Basically, he comes home from work, too tired to do anything, Monday-Friday. So on weekends, when he’s too tired to do anything, he sits in his chair, re-reading Harry Potter novels for the 30th time (or possibly the Eragon novels) while watching abcfamily airing the Harry Potter movies? Or airing Matilda or Legally Blonde for the 800th time.

He’s obsessed with talking politics, and I HATE when anyone I know tries to talk to him about it. My mother and I have learned that she and I disagree on certain topics and we’ll just have to disagree and not talk about it. My father wants to harp on you if you disagree with him, and you’ll just never hear the end of it.

To be fair, he and I agree on a lot of things as well. But it’s much easier to agree with him. He’s extremely conservative. And I’m very much in the middle of things. I don’t find myself very liberal or very conservative. It depends on the subject.

That being said? You’ll rarely find me talking about politics… and if you’re here for my political views? You are shit out of luck.

The last character I introduce tonight will be my brother, Scott.

He’s 29. He’ll be 30 in January. He lives in an apartment attached to my house (where Nan used to live until a couple of years ago… when we finally decided it was time she lived in a nursing home, because she couldn’t take care of herself like before. She’s still of her own mind–completely lucid. She just can’t walk much, or change, or get out of bed or anything. She needs to be in a chair/needs someone helping her to do things.

Scott’s life thus far has been about video games and horrible girlfriends that made me miserable. I know that’s a very self-centered view for me to have, but it’s a truth. His girlfriends so far have been terrible.

I give a lot of grief to Scott. I often feel horrible about it, and I think, “When the fuck did I become such a bitch?”

But then he says something to me and that thought travels away, and I just want to hit him.

I don’t hate my brother. He’s not a horrible person. Not really.

He’s just selfish. And lazy. And he’s just the type of person I’d never want to keep company with. He’s been bogged down by depression and poor self-image for so long that I feel he’s just lost his sense of self-worth sometimes. If he’d just take CARE of himself he might feel better. But he’s always made excuses for everything and always made up stories about things to make him sound better than he is… He’s just… full of it.

I’m guilty of a lot of the same things he is, to be truthful. I just… want so much to have adventures and stories to tell. And I want him to have those things too. But since he’s been in debt since I can remember, and he has a horrible habit of buying every piece of huge expensive electronic equipment he can get his hands on. So he’s never been able to afford things like traveling… moving out.

Anyway, it’s 7:20pm. Martin was supposed to be up 20 minutes ago, and I’m getting tired of his alarm… I’m also tired of the hunger that’s forcing my stomach to churn in desperate want of frozen pizza.

I know this blog is about me, but for it to reflect me properly, my characters need to have some substance. You need to have some background on these people for them to properly come to life.

And everyone in my life is a character to me. It’s sort of my thing. Whether I’m talking about Piano Guy, Coffee Guy, Martin, Aunt Nicki, Nan, Scott, or Bandanna Kid (who I’ll probably never talk about again unless I accidentally run into him upon my return to Clarion), they will always go through my mind like a character in a novel. And I will describe them as if that’s exactly what they are. Characters are what I’m best at… so they’re what I use most to tell my story. I know… I ought to work on the areas I’m not so good at. (For example: Conclusions, Settings, any sort of description at all, really…)

But fuck you… alright?

Anyway… considering I’ve essentially done nothing but blab about people I might talk about at some point, I’m going to assume no one will read this… unless they’re Martin. Or possibly Ashley. Who, next to family, is another KEY character. I didn’t introduce her into my blog yet, because I haven’t seen her in quite some time (2 months… and I’m missing her, dearly), so she was last in line to be discussed. Ashley Pichey is my best friend. Has been for 13ish years. She and I have many fascinating adventures. I will talk about those… when I feel like it.

I’ll leave on a helpful note. I will place the mainest of characters in my story onto a list. (Yes, I’m aware of how incorrect “mainest” is)

Keep in mind? This list will be different when I go back to school. Because that’s a new chapter… and new characters are introduced.

 Main Characters in Katie’s Story in No Particular Order

  1. Me (duh)
  2. Martin
  3. Ashley
  4. My mom