happy halloween!

I absolutely love Halloween. Mainly for the free candy, but also because I love to dress up. I could definitely do without the scary stuff, but I don't mind it in moderation. Plus, I feel like it's the unofficial start to the holiday season.

Trick-or-treating was my activity of choice until sophomore year of college. Yes, COLLEGE. I continued to go throughout high school, I skipped freshmen year, but in sophomore year, a bunch of my friends still wanted to do it. And how can I pass up free candy? Sure, I could go buy my own bag, but unless you're going to shell out lots of cash, you're only going to get a limited variety. By going out, you get everything you could imagine and more. I remember dumping my bucket out and finding candy I totally forgot existed or that I simply didn't eat very often. It was amazing.

My junior and senior years didn't include trick-or-treating only because I hosted a party one year and attended one the following year. Our junior year party was pretty last-minute because we all wanted to go out, but not to drink (I know, we're not your typical college students). So, we hosted our own party which included pizza, snacks, and amazing brownies. We had thirteen people total, talked really loudly and got in trouble, then crowded into one of our rooms to watch Casper. It was a lot of fun, actually.

Our little common area, decked out for the party. We even had SUPER ILLEGAL STRING LIGHTS.

I guess now that I won't be trick-or-treating until I have kids of my own (yikes!), my favorite part of Halloween is definitely dressing up. In case you couldn't guess, I was Tinkerbell for our junior year party. Last year (my senior year) I was a black cat.

However, my favorite costume of all time was none other than being a Disney princess. I had only been a fairy princess when I was four years old, and had otherwise gone in the direction of whatever was popular (like the year I was the Pink Power Ranger when everyone else was too).

I can't say the idea was exactly all mine. My best friend at the time decided she wanted to be Maleficent, the evil witch from Sleeping Beauty. It was our senior year of high school, which meant we were the only ones allowed to dress up for the annual class parties. Since I had always wanted to do theme-y costumes with friends, I immediately decided I would be Aurora. Originally we tried to get our friends to be other Disney princesses and villains, but everyone already had other ideas.

Being Princess Aurora was the best time I've ever had on Halloween. I can't tell if it comes across in my blog, but I was born to be a Disney princess, no lie. Princess Cait was actually my nickname of sorts in high school (hence the URL to this blog - ou, fun fact!). I mean, nobody ever called me that in any seriousness, like yelling down the hallway for me. It was mostly just online screen name material and for joking around. Needless to say, I am the perfect candidate for dressing like a princess.

What was your favorite costume for Halloween? What's your favorite part of Halloween in general?

i knew it was coming.

Remember when I said that all the trees around here were going to just suddenly shed their leaves overnight?

It happened.

Last night it rained and was relatively windy, I guess, and all the lovely leaves were ready to fall. So much for that kick ass job I did on Sunday, raking the leaves from the lawn AND clearing the driveway.

They even took over the bushes, which really annoys me because I just put that webbing on there. The leaves kinda ruin the effect. And, there's no getting any of them off of there, because they're all stuck in the webbing.

Even my little ghostie is shocked at the number of leaves that fell.

world series, here we come.

I am by no means a full-fledged sports fan. While I generally understand how baseball and football work (the only two sports I like to watch), the intricacies are completely lost on me. I don't necessarily follow a certain team to the extent where I watch their first game of the season to their last. If you asked me somebody's stats or how they compare to other players, I wouldn't have an answer for you.

Basically, I'm your stereotypical girl watching sports. I'm not as bad as those people who confuse terms for each sport, but I'm close.

All that being said, I have a soft spot in my heart for local teams, specifically the Giants and the Yankees. There's absolutely no basis for my loyalty. It's not family tradition. It's simply the fact that they're from New York. I'm not really sure if that makes me lame or not.

When the Giants went to the Superbowl two years ago, I was beyond thrilled. Why? No real reason. I hadn't watched the season at all, I was just excited to see them in the Superbowl. Being a member of my Residence Hall Association (RHA shout-out!), we threw a huge party in the freshmen dorm main lounge, putting up two large projector screens to show the game and offering free pizza and hot wings. Needless to say, we had a large attendance, because what college student doesn't love free food!?

I spent the morning putting my look together, debating between jeans and leggings to go with my bright blue shirt from Kohls that I'd purchased (on clearance!) just for the game. I put curling ribbon - red and blue, of course - in my pulled-back hair.

I forgot to mention the blue EARRINGS, too. I go all-out, people.

I watched that game with so much excitement, feeding off of the energy of my friends who were all rooting for the Giants as well. It was just too much fun not to. Had I gone to that party and not cared who won, I would've been bored to tears. And I will say that since then, I've followed the Giants just a little more, making an effort to catch some of their games on TV.

But back to the main reason I'm posting in the first place - the Yankees won the ALCS and are heading to the World Series! After the game last night, I may or may not have jumped up and down on my bed, done a happy dance, then pumped music too loudly in celebration. Despite having paid little attention to them during the majority of the season, I started watching the ALCS games, knowing that they were a step away from the World Series. It was so fun being a part of the excitement as friend after friend posted Yankees-based Facebook statuses.

Now that they've made it, my adrenaline is running so high. I'm TOTALLY STOKED for the World Series, even more so considering it's Phillies versus Yankees (which, on a side note, is also totally scary considering that New Jersey is filled with die-hard fans of either team who would hate for the other team to win. Gulp). Let's go New York!

the one where i talk about trees too much.

The weather this week has been absolutely beautiful, albeit a little out of season (I wore shorts today out of complete necessity). But it's been sunny and warm and delicious. After driving around for work and errands on Monday and Tuesday, I'd really wanted to go out and take a bunch of pictures of my neighborhood.

One block over from my house. I can't remember why I didn't take one of my actual street.

One of the reasons I love autumn is the way it transforms my town. Even though I'm finished with college and have been out of the town's public school system for years now, it's still back-to-school season. Driving or walking through my development reminds me of walking to and from school, and now that the leaves are finally falling, it brings back memories of raking them into a big pile before jumping in them.

Eventually, I'm going to have one hell of a time raking all of these.

My development is your typical idea of suburbia. The houses are cookie cutter in structure, although there are quite a few homes that have grown to ridiculous sizes. Lawns are manicured, basketball hoops litter the driveways and streets, and kids are running up and down the street all the time. But I think my favorite part is the fact that on every lawn, centered and just at the curb, is a tall red oak tree (or at least I think they're red oaks; whatever they are, they're really pretty).

On the main street that connects my development.

On Wednesday, The Boy came to visit and we went for a walk around the neighborhood and I brought my camera along for the trip.

Oh, how I adore them. They seem to go on forever and because they're on both sides, they create an awning over the streets. And it doesn't hurt to have this to look at when you're lounging around in your front yard:

[all photos from my flickr]

where i am.

So.

I had complete emotional and mental breakdown on Friday. It was ugly. I was crying and screaming so much that I was hoarse for the rest of the night. It got so bad that I actually had to stop because I felt faint.

It felt good to let it out, but considering it was my mother and brother listening to my complaints, I knew I wasn't going to get the sympathetic response I wanted. Our family lacks that emotional bond - we communicate mostly through sarcastic remarks and jokes. That's part of what had been getting to me, seeing as any progress I made was ignored, but if I tripped up with my sleeping or my diet, judgment would be passed in a jeering comment. As much as I was glad to offer them a real explanation, I could still use a few nice words and a hug.

The problem with complaining to them is that they also make it perfectly clear that all my problems are my own and can only be fixed by me. While I'm completely aware of that fact, I would've liked at least a little sympathy that things suck right now that are a bit beyond my control. I have a habit of blaming everyone and everything for my problems instead of myself, and because of that, my parents have taken to blaming ONLY me for any of my problems. There's no middle ground, and it's frustrating, because I certainly didn't wish anxiety or IBS onto myself.

After explaining everything in a little more detail, it's becoming clearer that my anxiety is playing a bigger part in all of this than I would like to admit. For my entire life, I've experienced all my stress in my gut. Every holiday, family gathering, class trip or major event in school, or presentation in college, I would wake up feeling sick and a bit flustered. When I was healthy, I was able to calm myself by taking some deep breaths and mentally talking my nerves down. The problem now is that my anxiety is compounded with a stomach that isn't functioning right, so everything is made worse. And when I think about it, the worst parts of being sick are the instances where I'm stressed out - I can't go anywhere without knowing that there will be accessible bathrooms both at the location and on the trip there. It's gotten so bad that I even get nervous when driving the fifteen minutes to Target.

I've always known, even if just in the back of my mind, that my anxiety was playing a part here. But I kept convincing myself that if I got the illness under control first, then I would stop having a horrible time driving places and attending events because my stomach wouldn't be flipping out every ten minutes. It seems, though, that I really have to consider working on the anxiety alongside my health, because I think the anxiety has just gotten worse since I've been sick.

This whole thing has taken so much energy out of me, and honestly, I've probably been struggling with depression lately. I spend almost all of my time at home, only going out to see The Boy or to go to work. Any event that I do go to, I stress and worry about it. Just this weekend, I drove to my college campus to visit my cousin and go to a party. It's an hour drive, one I'm familiar with and that is on a main road with plenty of gas stations and stores, just in case I need to stop. The entire drive down was miserable and I had to stop once. When I finally got to campus, I spent fifteen minutes in the student center because I had to use the restroom again and I was getting nervous about actually going into my cousin's dorm. Then, even after the visit went well, I spent another ten minutes debating about even going to the party. Finally I gave in, but I was still feeling less than pleasant.

The most frustrating and depressing aspect of this entire situation is that I used to be fine. I used to go to parties, events, and family gatherings with no issue. I used to drive around for hours without stopping anywhere. Now I feel so limited with what I can do, especially when I'm with other people. But I'm hoping to use my frustration as motivation to do everything in my power to make this better. I'm fixing my sleep, going on an even stricter diet, and working on my anxiety. I want to be normal again, because this? Right now? Really, really sucks.

remembering.

One of the weirdest things about me, I think, is my obsession with seeing myself on video or in photos. It's not really a narcissistic thing, I promise, but a desire to reconnect with all my memories and keep them fresh in my mind.

I think it's weird not to watch home videos. If you've got them, why not watch them? Isn't that the point? I say this because when I first got into these video-watching sprees, my parents frowned on it a bit. There was an implication that they were meant for when I was much older, like when I had my own kids. I understand that to a degree, but I fail to see the point of recording all this video only to have it sit in boxes, waiting to be dug up years and years later to look back on.

I thoroughly enjoy watching the videos and learn something new every time. On some of the videos, while the kids are being taped, you can hear the adults talking about family drama. The banter between the adults while the kids rip open Christmas gifts is hilarious. I learn about myself - how I was a very quiet kid until my brother was born, at which point I subconciously learned to vie for attention by being loud and chatty; how I liked to explain things, even if it meant stopping my gift-opening to tell everyone every character on the box; when exactly my fear of my two six-foot-tall uncles ceased.

There are also moments that I am so very grateful to be able to see whenever I want, ones that I would have never remembered but that are now ingrained in my memory. I have been blessed to have videos that include my late nana and poppop, because while pictures are good, video is better. I can see how they acted and spoke, remember how they interacted with us, and best of all, hear the sound of their voices. One of the early Christmas videos, when I was the newest grandchild on my dad's side of the family and only about two years old, contains nearly back-to-back moments that pull on every single one of my heartstrings.

The first is with my poppop - a tough man who smoked and drank heavily, with dark tattoos adorning his arms and a rough, hardened face, whose tough exterior was melted only by his grandchildren. And there I am in his arms, in stark contrast with my pale pink party dress and porcelain doll resemblance. He asks for a kiss, but I'm distracted, so he reaches in his pocket for quarters, or as we called it, "monies." Handing it to me, my little fists closing around my prize, my dad prompts me to give him a kiss. My red-lipped little face plants the lightest of kisses on his own mustached mouth; when asked for a hug, my hands full with quarters, I simply lean against his body and rest my head on his shoulder.

The second is with my nana, whom I believe I resemble the most out of anyone in this family. She was kind and giving, worked hard to keep a clean house and put food on the table, always keeping her appearance immaculate. To this day, when I hear her voice on video - the smooth raspiness from years of smoking - it soothes me. This moment might not have ever made it onto video, as I had wandered from the gift-opening to the kitchen, where she was cleaning up dinner. As I sit in a chair that's still too big for me, she answers the question asked of me, "how's Katie?" She says, "Say, I'm beautiful, that's how I am." There's a pause before she says, "do you know how much nana loves you?" And there is not one single moment that could possibly touch me any deeper than that. The first time I heard it (and every time I hear it or think of it), I feel as though she's reminding me, that she's somewhere close, asking that same rhetorical question to which I surely know the answer.

It's reasons like those that make me thirst for every moment of my life that's recorded on film or in photos. I want to drink in every memory so that I can retain those that I've lost or that I never remembered in the first place. My greatest dream is to find a day when I can force the rest of my family to pause, to have all my aunts, uncles and cousins sit together and watch all these memories, so they can be reminded, too. I think it would do us a lot of good.

busy bee.

Has it really been two weeks? Really?

When I started writing this post, I thought it had only been a week since my last post. Wrong-O (or as my mother would say - because she's weird like that - wrong-o, long-o).

Anyway.

In addition to another round of feeling sorry for myself, I've spent the past week being the pseudo mom of the house. On Tuesday, my mom had surgery to remove her gall bladder and to do something about her herniated umbilical cord. I say "do something" because I'm no medical genius and since I don't exactly know what a hernia even is, I can't say what it is one does to correct it.

I've decided it's very weird when your mother is incapacitated. My mom has rarely been majorly sick in my lifetime. In fact, I couldn't even cite another instance where she was forced into bed because of illness or surgery. So in my recollection of life in this house, there has never been a day where my mom isn't being my mom.

This, of course, means that many of her duties fall to me, while my dad takes care of the rest (and my brother kinda just keeps getting to do whatever he wants). Mostly I've been doing what you'd expect - cleaning, laundry, helping with meals, and doing dishes. OH, the dishes. My dad refuses to do dishes, so it's always my task. Quite frankly, I'm glad to do it to the extent that he's terrible at it. But I'm getting so sick of it. I have come to the conclusion that there will definitely be a dish washer in my future home, NO compromises.

On top of all that, my "deal" with my parents about living here is that in lieu of rent, I have to do five hours of housework per week. Not a bad deal, but of course, this means I get to do everything nobody else wants to. I washed my dad's MESS of a car last weekend, I've trimmed the hedges and raked the yard twice already, and then there was today. Today I had the wonderful task of re-painting the gate to our backyard and the piece of fence on the opposite side of the house. And we have a chain-link fence. Right. Never mind that I picked the windiest day to do this and my drop cloth was fluttering in the wind, but the silver paint I was using isn't exactly washable. After finishing the job, I examined my arms and saw a few little drops and thought I had done a decent job of not turning myself into the tin man. Until I came inside and looked in the bathroom mirror and discovered that - as usual - I had gotten little pin-prick-sized droplets all over my face. Cut to me using paint thinner to remove it. PAINT THINNER. ON MY FACE.

Add that to the humongous pile of dishes I got to do from my dad making eggplant parm, and you'll understand why I promptly treated myself to a vanilla chai latte and chocolate iced donut from Dunkin Donuts.