The Life of a Person That Exists

I fear that being lost is becoming this recurring theme in my life. NO! Don’t click away just yet. I know you’re probably thinking ‘we’ve heard this all before, it’s just going to lead to some dark road that ultimately makes me very sad.’

Well, I’m going to tell you something I love telling people when they assume things. YOU ARE WRONG!!!! In all honesty, this post was inspired by another, less uplifting post of mine (it’s kind of nice being inspired by your own work. Gave me all sorts of pride), but it will not end up where that one ended up. Plus this one will be full of me trying to be funny, so look forward to that!

Now that you know what to expect, let’s get to the point. Being lost can suck. Wait! I said it can suck, not it always sucks. See the hint of optimism?

Sometimes, it leads somewhere beautiful. The only thing is, you won’t see the beauty in it if you lose your head and get frustrated that you’re lost. If you’re that type of person, chances are you’re not going to stop to smell the roses, and you’re going to miss the beauty that is life. You have to remember to appreciate the little things, but more importantly, you have to know when to appreciate the little things.

I have all these dreams and hopes for my life, but I have no idea which one to choose. I know you’re probably thinking ‘you never have to choose one dream. They’re dreams, that’s the point.’ Yeah, yeah, yeah, this time you’re right. Don’t get a big head about it.

Here’s the thing. I want to be a writer. And I don’t mean in my down time when I have access to the internet and can spend hours on end surfing wordpress. I mean I want to be able to see my name on an actual novel. You know, those things with pages that everyone traded in for electronic devices a while back? Yeah, those things.

Then I turn around, and I want to sing. I want to make music. I want to be signed to a label, make an album, go on tour, go on a promotion tour, live the life. You can’t have it both ways though, can you? You can’t be a real singer and then be taken seriously as a writer, it just doesn’t happen. People will take one look at your novel and say ‘what do they think they’re doing? They sing, this is a book, not a C.D.’ Do you see my dilemma?

Don’t even try telling me that if you went into a store and saw a work of fiction (notice I didn’t saw an autobiography) written by Katy Perry or . . . freakin . . . John Mayer, that you would actually consider buying it. You, a person who is obviously interested in blogging which means you must have respect for the written (or in most cases nowadays . . . typed) word. I definitely wouldn’t. I would mock it, and that’s just how I think most people would look at it, and I wouldn’t blame you.

So here I am, lost again. (You thought I forgot how I started this post, didn’t you? I’m back to it now, don’t worry.) I have no idea what to do. Most of my friends know where they’re going, what they’re doing. I need to start hanging out with idiots, I really do, because I just feel so. . . what’s the word? Just lost in comparison, they have it all figured out.

Everywhere I turn, I meet someone who just knows. They know what they’re doing, they know where they are, where they’re going, and where they came from. I barely remember what I had for breakfast; let alone decide what college I’ll go to, and how am I supposed to know what college is best when I have no clue what I would major in? You know what’s awesome right now though? High school.

Not that I’m exactly ‘popular,’ whatever that means. I am that kid who doesn’t talk much, hides behind her laptop (usually blogging) or book (nuff’ said), but I do have friends. I’m not some reject, and I don’t get bullied (bullying doesn’t really happen at my school, we’re really strict about that). It’s just. . . fun. I get to hang out with my friends, join things I wouldn’t be able to do without school, and learn things that I never thought could be this interesting. Am I a loser? Yeah, but at least I’m enjoying it.

Maybe that’s the point though. Maybe I need to just slow down, and enjoy life. I’m in the middle of a journey, most would even say I’m just beginning it. Living in the moment seems like such a nice sentiment. . .

Ranting

On a totally happy beginning note, happy beginning of the week! Nice Monday so far? No? Okay, on with the rant:

Soooooo. We can all agree that school is awesome and the main source of fun in the world, right? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Can we all at least agree that I am at least seven times more entertaining when I’m ranting about something? I’m not even going to guess your answer for that one because of my total lack of interest in what some people think. I’m not saying necessarily you but in some cases, I might be.

Anyway, back to the rant. History is an awesome class isn’t it? Who doesn’t love sitting in a hundred-year-old building learning about a bunch of old fat and/or short guys who could never agree on anything? This class is the epitomy of a good time. So this is what a teacher should do, they should make this class even better by not even teaching. Let’s have all the students make presentations on each of the topics in the chapter and have them teach each other! GREAT IDEA!

Please, let’s do that. I love it when having a teacher becomes completely pointless and when I have to learn most-likely mixed up information by my peers who have absolutely no clue what they’re doing. Why don’t we just hire them as the teachers. I mean all you have to do is regurgitate what is written in the book,right? What’s the point in even getting a degree? Just put people who can read in front of a classroom and they’ll make do.

So there I was, all week. Working on a presentation on the Gold Rush, stressing about my grade. (In case you were wondering, history is still the only grade that I have a B in, albeit a high B. Believe it or not, I am one point away from an A, with a 92). This is how it went down; our class was in the library all week, working on these presentations. I was the only girl in my group, and evidently the only one who didn’t have A.D.D. every day at ninth period. Don’t get me wrong, my group was entertaining, funny, and we did manage to get all of our work done.

In fact, we were totally finished. An awesome power-point presentation all about everything you ever wanted to know about the Gold Rush. Then, over the weekend, we had to do something else. We had to take notes on the chapter and turn them in for a grade. Not as a group, it was a requirement for every individual student in the class for a totally unrelated grade. The thing, though, is that the Gold Rush in the book was the Alaska Gold Rush. Guess what we did our presentation on? THE FREAKIN’ CALIFORNIA GOLD RUSH!!!!

We had spent our entire week researching the WRONG FRIGGIN’ TOPIC. So how did we proceed? We questioned our teacher, bearing in mind that we made the presentation on google docs and shared it with him at his request, so that he could check and make sure we weren’t going totally in the wrong direction (which we most definitely were). Seeing as he never told us ‘hey, this is not at all what this is supposed to be about, why don’t you read the chapter like a smart person for once?’ we thought maybe he was okay with us doing this Gold Rush. We knew it was a lost cause, though.

So there we sat, in the back of the room, arguing about who was going to go up and ask our teacher if it was okay to present our current power-point or if we had to totally start a new one. Now I should explain to you, our teacher is small. Like really small. Like half a toothpick small if a can of soup were a normal sized human being. And yet, we were all still so imtimidated by him that we were back there trying to make somebody else go up and ask. Finally, we decided to go up to him as a group, considering we were far too cowardly for any of us to go alone.

I’m not even going to bother going into detail about the following interaction, because it will only make me cry tears of failure. All in all, we now have to make another project on THE RIGHT TOPIC and then be the last group to present to the class, only finding out that we were totally wrong the day before presentations began.

Here’s to the three of us, doing all of our work after school and over the weekend and hopefully being able to pull it off and not totally fail this class. (When I say ‘over the weekend’ I’m writing this on a Thursday, posting it on a Monday. Our presentation is due Monday.)

P.S: I wrote this post a while ago and thought it was too good to spare, so I hope you enjoyed it. Also, I posted ‘Being a Creator’ on Tuesday after last Monday, my usual blog day, and I never gave my post before that a chance, ‘Another Monday’ which I think isn’t fair because I thought it was one of my best. Please go check it out if you have five minutes to spare. Also, leave a comment telling me about your biggest fail to make me feel less pathetic about myself.

Being a Creator

Goals are good. Goals give you some perception of what you are doing with your life in the weeks or months or years to come. I have so many goals. Then there’s this fear. This crippling self doubt that just kills every hope I have. It took me weeks to build up the confidence to just blog, and even now I try not to give out too many details about who I am because, I really don’t want anyone that I know personally knowing how my brain works.

I don’t know why I’m like that. I am not the same person in my head as I am in person. Who I am changes day to day depending on where I am, who I’m with, and just about any other factor that exists. Most of the time, though, I’m that shy wierdo in the back of the room who will only talk to you if you talk to me first.

I got to thinking about the word ‘creator’ the other day. You can say artists, writers, singers, filmmakers, they’re all creators. But, isn’t everyone a creator? Ignore whatever it is that you have physically created in your lifetime. You’ve created you, the amazing person who has gotten where you are today because of you. So if this feeling is something that creators have, everyone can relate, right?

I’m willing to wager that not everyone feels exactly the way that I do. I know some people are a lot more confident with themselves than I am. Just go with me for a minute though, it’s not always about sharing yourself, it’s about sharing what you create.

So, I’m a creator, I create music, blogs, I’m working on some novels. I have no idea where to go from here. I like writing, but I write for myself. I write because. . . I have all of these thoughts that drive me wild and I guess it just. . . helps. If I can get it all out on paper, then it’s bearable.

Then I hit the point where I’m finished with it, and it sits in a hiding spot in my room because I don’t want anyone finding it ever. EVER. Because people judge. I’m scared of that. People are scary, and I am not the type of person who can deal with that. I want so desperately to entertain people, because putting smiles on peoples faces just seems like the best thing I could possibly spend my time doing.

I don’t know why, there’s just so much crap in this world. It’s nice to have something I can come home to and just forget the world, if only for a moment. It’s nice to think that if I can write things and get them out to people somehow and it can help them escape from whatever troubles await them when they walk away from it, that’s a good feeling. Think of it this way; how great does it feel when somebody tells you that you made their day? Pretty great.

There is this thing though, I’m not a ‘writer,’ or I might be. I don’t know where I stand, but I guess this is growing up (Blink 182 lyrics for the win). Figuring out who you are, where you fit in. The simple answer is don’t worry about what people think.

How many times have you heard that? “Just be yourself, ignore what everyone else thinks.” I can’t do that. If people hate me, it haunts me.

I might not be a writer, I might not be a musician or singer, but I am a creator. A creator of what is still waiting to be discovered. When I do create though, it’s for me. It’s to get me through tough times. It’s to try to figure things out. It’s to make me feel less alone, so I write and I create, and when I do write and create, I’ll do whatever I damn well please. I want anyone who creates to think of that everytime you’re creating. Don’t create for your audience, don’t create for your readers, create for you. Create because it’s what you love, because you don’t ever want to lose that feeling of creating something you genuinely like and are proud of.

What does it mean to be a creator? If you’re anything like me (and for the sake of this post I hope you are), it means paranoia. It means your fingers aren’t going fast enough to keep up with everything in your brain and you keep accidentally typing cratos instead of creator. It means getting frustrated when you can’t find the right words to get across what your feeling. It means losing yourself in what you’re doing and going down a totally different road than you originally intended, leading to a much longer post than anticipated. It means staring at the ‘Publish Post’ button for a good fifteen minutes hoping that what you have spent the last two hours working on was good enough quality to share with the internet. It means you get scared once and again, and sometimes you make this shell to keep yourself from getting hurt, and that’s not okay.

It means sitting in your room with your door locked so that nobody will barge in and hear you sing. It means writing all of your songs in a little notebook that you keep hidden behind your bed where you know no one will find it. It means being scared to get in front of people and have them listen to you because you don’t think you have enough talent or skill for every single one of them to like you.

It means getting the same grade when you recited poetry for your class as the girl who completely blew everyone away, and hoping that even though you have¬†undoubtedly¬†the best grade in your class, your teacher won’t ask you to go farther in the competition. It means swearing to yourself that if he asks, then you’ll say yes because you know that you have to step out of your shell at some point and forcing yourself is the only way it can happen. It means wanting desperately to have the guts to try out for a televised talent competition, but every year when sign ups come around you tell yourself you can sign up next year.

It means an overwhelming amount of fear, and that’s okay, because that’s feeling, and feeling means living.

My name is Katie. I’m the girl behind The Other Category, and I’m scared, but that’s okay.

P.S: I know this isn’t how my blog usually is and I’m sorry it’s not my usual lame attempts at being funny. I just felt that if anyone out there feels like this ever, they might come across this and realize they aren’t alone. Because there are so many times when you feel like no one feels the same way, and it’s never true. There are 7 billion people on this world, at least one person has most likely felt that way at one point or another. Stay strong everyone. ūüôā

Another Monday

Here we are, another Monday, another blog day. I feel it’s necessary to explain to you why I chose Monday as my blog day. No, it is not because I hate myself. It isn’t that I was punishing myself for something horrible I’ve done. I didn’t chose the worst day of the week in order to torture myself.

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Here’s how it is:

Monday’s suck. That’s common knowledge. That’s something everybody knows.

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Then, what I do, is I go on to wordpress and my Monday sucks a bit less. It still sucks, just. . . you know. . ¬†.it doesn’t suck¬†as much¬†(sorry wordpress, but I must not tell lies). My goal to get¬†your¬†Monday to suck even less. Hopefully get a chuckle out of you, or just make you feel better about yourself because let’s be honest, you’re probably less of a loser than I am.

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I chose today because I know, for a fact, that¬†nobody sane¬†will wake up on a Monday and go “Yay, it’s Monday! Today is awesome. I’m going to go to work/school today and be totally content. I probably won’t even need any coffee or any source of caffeine because I am just that energized!”

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It just doesn’t happen. Just. . . .no.

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And most people probably won’t smile for the first three hours of being awake on a Monday because that’s how bad it is. This isn’t a hyperbole, this is just how it is.

So let’s all wander over and see what theothercategoy is posting today. Let’s see what unfortunate event or tale is being shared with us. It will make us feel better about ourselves, because we aren’t as pathetic as that.

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Today’s tale is just the tale of getting this post up. I am currently, as I type this very word, in my ‘music theory class.’ Why the quotes? Because today our teacher is conducting our choir in the veterans day assembly that will be going down in a matter of minutes. Lucky for me, our music theory classroom is also our band room.

Coincidentally, our band room has about ten computers here for the purpose of not having to hand-write whatever music we are writing. So I come in to class and realize ‘oh, we’re doing nothing today. Good because it’s a Monday and I don’t feel like learning (See how I fit that in?)’ I continue over to the computer that I always sit at and log on to wordpress. ‘This is great, I can update wordpress and I won’t even have to waste the battery on my laptop, because that battery dies really fast.’ But no, because our school’s computers never function correctly, it gave me a hard time.

I swear, technology hates me. anyway, I typed about half of this post, or what I had planned for this post, and then it decided to spazz out. It, out of nowhere, decided it needed to refresh the page ALL BY ITSELF. And to make matters worse, some idiot student here changed the cursor to a banana. When something is loading, it peels itself ‘OMG, ISN’T THAT JUST FREAKING ADORABLE?!?!?!’ No, it’s not. It’s annoying, get it off my monitor.

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I had to wait for at least five minutes, bearing in mind that I would still have to upload pictures and finish writing the post. Then it did that whole ‘this program had to end now, however inconvenient it is for the user of this computer.’ Thanks man, really thanks. I had to log out of my user before even logging off of wordpress, so I had to log back on once the computer sorted itself and log off of my wordpress account. Then start all over on my wimpy little laptop.

I sincerely hope your Monday is going better than mine so far.

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Public Speaking

It’s the dreaded week for me. Teenager, high¬†school-er¬† awkward turtle. The week that I have to present to my classes. Yes. . . CLASSES. As in more than one. (dun Dun DUHHHHN) To be more precise, three in one week, as far as I know. But who knows? One of my teachers may decide to spring another public speaking assignment on us because, hey, THEY’RE FUN RIGHT? (Note: the sarcasm)

No teachers, it just so happens that they’re not fun. In fact, they’re pure torture.

I may have been a little misleading when I typed ‘public speaking’ up ^there, because it’s not all speaking. I have to sing in my English class. Yeah, SING, with my guitar and my friend. We have to sing a song THAT WE WROTE. And because we are cool cats, we decided to not just take the easy route and rewrite the lyrics to a preexisting song, NOOOOO, we’re too talented for that.

We wrote our very own song, with our very own chords and melody. Naturally, I think it sucks, but it was written based on a novel, so there isn’t much wiggle room. Plus, our mutual friend told us it was awesome, so it could just be my super self¬†consciousness, because I always think songs that I write suck.

“So kid, what else do you have to present?” you ask. A power-point presentation about the Gold Rush (I’m not too worried about that one, all of the work is already done) and POETRY!¬†EVERY ONES¬†FAVORITE. DON’T YOU JUST FREAKING LOVE POETRY?! Because I don’t. Well I do, I mean, I love it when I’m alone in my bedroom looking for a little inspiration and just reading it for fun. And when I read poems out loud in my bedroom to my inanimate stuffed animals, I could be a freaking¬†Oscar-winning actress. Yeah, I’m that good.¬†But when you throw me in front of a group of my peers, looking at me with those judging eyes,

waiting for me to stutter so that they can hold onto it and NEVER LET ME FORGET IT, I lose my talents and confidence. I am no longer a professional actress, I turn into a four year old trying to read off of cue cards with a speech impediment.

In case you’re thinking “Oh, they’re not going to make fun of you for stuttering,” THINK AGAIN! My friend stuttered last year when giving a presentation on Hercules, and because our friends are awesome friends and they love him so much, every single time we hear we have to present in front of the class, they look at him and say “Heh-Heh-Hercules!”

So here I am, in my room, writing my poem over and over again to guarantee total memory, saying it to my walls, and losing my mind because I know that even if I say it flawlessly today, then tomorrow I will still just look like an idiot in front of my class. You know, class, those people I have to spend the next THREE YEARS of my life with.

My history teacher told me ‘Public speaking is statistically the greatest fear of Americans. . . second greatest fear is death!’ I totally understand anyone who lists public speaking under death, because right now, I’d prefer death to public speaking. Then my English teacher told me that it was the second greatest fear next to death. I don’t know which teacher to believe and I really don’t care enough to look it up, but I am willing to bet that about 39% of statistics are made up on the spot and have no credible research.

Here’s hoping I don’t pass out in front of my class.