DQ

I know I complain about it a lot, but deep down (I really hate to admit this) I absolutely love working at dairy queen.

It's just really fun. I love making blizzards and cones and especially waffle bowls and peanut buster parfaits. And I love the people I work with cuz we goof off and we joke around and then when we get really busy, we rely on each other to back us up and save us from angry customers who didn't get their diet pepsi. I think the best part about dairy queen is when you make an ice cream cone for a little four year old kid and he gets this gigantic smile on his face like it's the greatest thing in the entire world. And you know that you totally just made that kid's day. It's so adorable! I also really love working at the cash register. Even though it's stressful at times - like when people order five kids meals with five different drinks and then three cheeseburgers but one with just pickles, one with just ketchup, and one plain - I just love that feeling of being in control of the ordering screens, it's like everybody has to listen to what I say. Do I sound like a psycho control freak or what? Well...if the shoe fits. And of course I love working with my best friend Becksies (in my defense, she's an even bigger psycho control freak than me hehe). There's something soothing about the rhythm of the fast food industry. Orders come in, orders go out. Clean the tables, sweep the floor, clean the blizzard machine. Cones, cups, sundaes, bags. $7.11 is your total, and we'll have that right out for you. It's like when I was little, I always imagined what it would be like to work at the restaruants I loved going to. For some reason I thought being a fast food worker was so glamorous. And, yeah it's lost most of that appeal. But some of it stuck, I think. It's like I'm on the inside. I know what goes in everything we serve and I know where the buttons are on the cash register and I know where we keep all the extra stuff in the supply room. I spent a whole summer learning the ins and outs of our little store, and now I know it like the back of my hand. Being on the inside is fun, seriously. And I'm sure I'll be sick of working soon enough, but for right now I'm really excited about making DQ my second home this summer. Gosh, I need to find a hobby.

Mr. Darcy's sexy pants.

Can I just take a second to share my undying devotion for the amazingness that is Pride & Prejudice?

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a large sum of money must be in want of a wife."

Yeah, that's the first line of the book. Be jealous of my mad skillz. Okay, nerdy moment over. I got the sudden urge to watch Pride & Prejudice at 11:30 this evening, and let me tell you, it was a stupendous idea. I love everything about that movie. E v e r y t h i n g. Even Mr. Collins, actually especially Mr. Collins because he is deliciously creepy. And Keira Knightly is amazing. She's not wearing any make-up through the whole darn thing and her hair is a bloody mess (did you catch that British-ness?) but she still looks gorgeous. And the setting?? Gol-darn, hitch me to a ship and get me to England! Seriously, it's breathtaking: the fogginess, the mistiness, the sunniness peeking through the cloudiness. Perfect. And then, folks, there's Mr. Darcy. Holy. Flippin. Cow. First of all, he's gorgeous. And not like in the pretty-boy kinda way. He is scruffy and he has chest hair and he has sexy pants (even for the 18th century). Second of all, he has that mysterious/brooding/kinda-arrogant vibe going on that is so...[swoons dreamily]. And third of all, he says things like "You have bewitched me body and soul" and "From this moment on I never wish to be parted from you." How can Elizabeth Bennet refuse? And how the heck did she get so lucky? Goodness gracious, this movie has me hooked from start to finish literally every time. And it never gets old. It just makes me feel all warm inside and I get this like head-in-the-clouds sort of feeling. Jane Austen was bloody brilliant (ha! I did it again!)

Got no time for feeling sorry.

I experience emotions of hatred toward a number of things -- Nickelback, Full House, bananas, washing dishes, losing things -- but I gotta tell you, something I truly hate is those moments I have when I feel sorry for myself. When I think that the whole world is going to end if I don't get [insert what I want] or when I think that I have too many things to worry about or too many things to do or too many people to please. When I get overwhelmed and when I get worrisome and when I feel like nothing could possibly get worse for me, that's when the self-pity sets in. That's when I want everyone around me to help me feel better and make all the bad things go away. That's when I want sympathy. That's when I want someone to say "Gosh Kaitlyn, you're really going through something tough." But what good does that do? What good does any of that do?

I am so sick of being so completely and utterly selfish that I lose sight of what's really importang. I am so sick of forgetting that I'm one of 6 billion people on this planet and what I'm going through can't compare to what some people have to live through every day. And I know that I can only take care of myself and I should be focusing on how I can better myself as a person and focus on what I need to do from day to day, but I hate it. I hate how selfish I feel all the time. And I hate that being selfish leads to feeling sorry for myself.

But what can I do? How can I break the cycle? Well, I can pray about it. And pray not just for myself but for the other people in my life, other people that experience just as many difficult moments as I do. And I can strive for ways to be less selfish. I can pray for oppurtunities to focus on someone else instead of me. And I can pray for humility and patience and selflessness. And with 6 billion other people on the planet, I really don't have time to feel sorry for myself.

Hello Chicago! [sings and dances in street]

I’ve always thought that when I grow up I’ll either have to live in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere or an apartment in downtown Some Big City. I am really opposed to the idea of living in a cookie cutter neighborhood. It’s so…boring. What is there to see? Annoying neighbors, ice cream trucks, old people jogging, other people’s lawns? I don’t know, when I look out my front window, I’d rather see rolling hills or a bustling street, not any of that junk. So once every month or so, I get a taste of what it would be like to live in the big city: when I walk through Chicago between train stations on my way home for the weekend. And let me tell you, I love it.

The smell. One moment I’ll smell the exhaust of a taxi, the next coffee from Starbucks, and then, for a brief moment when the breeze hits my face, I smell Chicago. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like a mixture of everything around me and its crisp and sweet and fresh. I probably look like a weirdo taking such big gulps of air, but it’s so good.

The sounds. If you just take a second, not to hear, but to listen, it’s amazing how the city changes from a jumble of honking cars and chattering people and squawking pigeons into something that’s almost musical. Seriously. It’s not chaotic, it’s a pattern and it flows, and it’s the perfect companion to the Paramore I’m listening to in my other ear.

The sights. It’s amazing to see so many different elements at one time. I look up and there are incredible overlapping skyscrapers in silver and black and brick. I look in front of me and I see all kinds of people, smiling and laughing, driven and speedy, quiet and relaxed. It’s so fun to just imagine where all these people are going and why and what they’re thinking about and how they live their lives. And then I look down at my blue chucks and they look different somehow. They’re not just my shoes anymore; they’re among the thousands, millions of shoes that have walked the same path on the same sidewalk in the same city for 200 years. They’re a small part of something huge – they’ve become a piece of history.

The feeling. When I walk down the sidewalk in my Chicago shoes and I smell that Chicago smell, I just feel completely elated. The weather may be beautiful and the temperature may be perfect, but walking down Madison Ave. makes it even more beautiful and perfect. I was stressing out about my stupid debit card and finding an ATM, but I literally could not stay mad. It just felt wrong to be angry as I made my way through the city, and I found myself starting to smile when I saw a couple with fanny packs and a baby in a stroller and important business people with their important briefcases. I didn’t want to get back on the train, I wanted to walk through the theatre district and the shopping district. I wanted to see all the buildings and I wanted to sit in a coffee shop and people watch. I just have this feeling that there’s so many possibilities, so many paths to take, so many doors to walk into. And because it’s such a vast place, everything and everyone is new. And yet, it all fits together in a beautiful, perfect, moving work of art.