Call Me Trouble.

with a side of optimism and wit.

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The Special Two.

Four years ago, in July of 2011, I posted a piece to an old obscure blog of mine. The blog has since been made private but once in a while I open the archives to see if I predicted well. To see if my gambles paid off or where I’ve crapped out. 

Almost fifty months ago I posted a new, favorite song. A number by Missy Higgins titled, “The Special Two.” At this time, Nick and I would have just, actually met. I didn’t live in Lakewood yet. I hadn’t met my first roommate. I didn’t know my next roommate would be someone from my tennis team in high school. I had no idea.

I had no idea the song I loved so much would very much become a reality for me, in the sense I would be a part of a special two. I didn’t know I’d find someone worth fighting for. I didn’t know about the fast friendship I’d find in Nick and the loving, caring relationship that would blossom out of that. I was aloof to knowledge I was meeting my future husband.

In 2010, if you would have told me the guy I was going to marry would be a golfing chemical sales rep who grew up in Chicago, and I would be moving to Nashville in a few years with him – well, I can’t say I’d be in disbelief or punch you in the face, but I’d be skeptical. Without him, I’d be without my renewed appreciation for oysters or, perhaps more importantly, the love of my life. My adoration for this Missy Higgins song hasn’t changed but so much else has.

Funny how the meanings of songs, stories, and films transform over time even though they haven’t. You have.


The Previous Post – July 15, 2010

Music moves me. Music moves throughout me. And every once in a while there’s a song that makes me grip my iPod, scan for title and artist, because it moved me. Today, as my iPod was on shuffle, the Missy Higgins song “The Special Two” came on. It was beautiful. She has a strong voice, but beyond that, I adore her writing. She uses the word scrupulous!

When you’re young you have this image of your life:
That you’ll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife.

Delicious. I don’t tend to listen to “heartier” music in the summer but lately I’ve needed some melodic TLC (editor’s note: tender, loving care, not the girl group TLC – but they’re cool too.) Don’t get me wrong Girl Talk is a go-to when I want to car dance (which I do;, all the time.)

Promise I’ll write more tonight…just excited about this song and wanted to share! (editor’s note: I didn’t “write more tonight”)

Other favorite lines to listen for:

  • And we will only need each other, we’ll breathe together,
    Our hands will not be taught to hold another’s
  • So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save their face?
    Well I guess the answer is don’t do it in the first place.
  • The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,
    And it was then I realized the conscience never fades.

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On Moving: Hashtag – Emo Post.

When your most feasible piece of furniture is a yoga mat. The taste of Shock Top on freshly brushed teeth. When every step echoes against barren walls. When setting down your bottle of beer feels sacrilegious on Brazilian walnut floors. This is moving.

When a drive home from the suburbs with the windows rolled down feels too familiar. Like you might know where you’re going without checking Google maps for the last time in a while. When calls to one, two, five, girlfriends results in voice mails. It’s obviously a Monday night before a big time in your life on a night that is every other night to everyone else. When the smell of campfires or grills seamlessly transitions into the  smell of gunpowder.

95% of your worldly things are packed but you still have you.

Staring at the ceiling asking yourself, the world, your betta fish, who am I? Who am I supposed to be? What is my purpose? And not evening minding when the answers do not appear and simply knowing they will in time.

Trying not to let the tears well up in your eyes while you figure out what you might miss. What wouldn’t you miss?

Forty-something boxes are packed. A few more to go. Then you’ll stumble through your final MBA class and head south.

Your mom said something tonight about wanting to find a time to celebrate a graduation.

“Who’s graduating?” you sincerely ask.

“You are.” She replies.

You forgot. You seem to be forgetting so much despite the sleepless nights trying to remember everything. On the list of work, class, wedding, and packing, you forgot that you were graduating. Despite the madness, you fret for it not to be over. What would you do if your time wasn’t dictated by a full week’s work or class until 10 p.m.? Precisely. So much of your life has been designed around not having to fill your time with your own personal desires or quests because, what if you have none? What if all you want to do is lay around in your pj’s and watch Netflix? You’re pretty sure that isn’t you; but it sure is your biggest fear. So you just haven’t given yourself the chance.

You hope your new condo takes forever to decorate. An infinity. Because once everything is set up…then what? You don’t even like interior design.

All quotes talk about facing your biggest fears, about waking up and doing what you always dreamed you’ll do. What if my biggest fear is figuring out what my dream is. No question mark. Not interested in the answer. Not in this moment.

As someone who values “firsts,” I can tell you my first CD, kiss, rated-R movie, and slow dance. I’m having a much harder time with “lasts.” Last time I park in this spot. Last time at this restaurant. Last time looking over this balcony at this time. Last, last, last.

My favorite way to leave a party is the old “Irish Exit” trick. You just slip out. No goodbyes, no awkward hugs, no well-intentioned promises of seeing each other soon. Just slip into the night with the moon. I’m just not sure I can Irish Exit from Cleveland. Slip into my car with eight hours worth of podcasts ready to take me to Nashville. My life here has been more than that of my life at a few hours of a delightful party. More meaningful. I’m not even sure what Cleveland taught me, but I’m sure I’ll know later. It’ll have something to do with being humble, hardworking, and never taking anything for granted. It’ll be about the people I met and connected with. It’ll be about polka, and running, and loving something greater than myself.

I have about 48 hours left in my home and roughly four weeks left in Northeast Ohio. This is absolutely unreal to me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled and blessed to be able to go on this new adventure but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel every last ounce of what it’s like to leave the area you grew up in. When you see what it’s becoming. What it’s going to be. What it can be. What you hope it will be. What you know it can be someday. And when you know someday is sooner than later.

I will not go gently into this good night. For my remaining time, I will rage, rage against the dying of the light.(Paraphrased from Dylan Thomas.)


I Plan On Writing More: But first, a caveat.

Sometimes I’m afraid you won’t get my humor, so I don’t write, or I do write but I don’t post. Much of what I find funny, I find it humorous because it’s so completely wrong. (To me.) Just because I think something is broken, doesn’t mean I don’t love or respect it, though. Hell. I’m broken and I still wake up every morning and look in the mirror and say, “you’re enough and you matter,” and I mean it. So, if I point something out in a wicked way and make obvious some flaws or irony or gaps or mistakes or areas of improvement, it’s because I want it to get better. If I wished ill will to someone or something I wouldn’t say a word. I would be quiet and witness the inevitable demise from what I didn’t care enough to say anything about.

If you understand and appreciate Hunter S. Thompson, you’ll understand me. Me, when I’m at my best. When I’m at my me-ist. When my biting sarcasm can draw a guttural laugh. When the people around me and including me aren’t taking life so damn seriously.

Lewis Black doesn’t raise his voice and point his finger because he’s apathetic to the world around him. It’s because he wants better for it, for us. Sometimes we confuse people who challenge the system, our beliefs, and institutional rules as mean or dissenting. I’ve heard someone being described as mean because they asked hard questions. I fail to see how critical thinking makes someone malicious. Granted, there’s a difference between thoughtful inquiry and being difficult – there’s always a balance. There are right times and places. But all other conditions being right, people asking “why?” shouldn’t be met with such resistance. Has anyone or anything ever gotten better by staying the same? Nope.

I’ve struggled to find my voice in my tiny piece of real estate on the internet this year. I’m sure much of it has to do with time and excuses but I know a large part of it has been identity. In many ways, I’m still figuring out who I am and I don’t want to risk losing the written journey because I was nervous about what people might think, or if something I say is going to be taken the wrong way. I am very much the peppy, optimistic, high energy person that people think I am. I am also the sarcastic, observant, impervious person that other people think I am. I’ve struggled to comprehend how I can be both, but I am. And maybe I won’t be any of those things in a year from now and that’s fine. If there’s evidence out there that I’ve had my armpits waxed before, I certainly can’t fear writing a few sentences that might portray my disbelief over fallible ignorance.

At the risk of babbling on and on, this is my peace. This is my permission. This is me permitting myself to write what I want to write because the next big step in my life is going to be fun, and thrilling, and scary, and tough, and I don’t want to miss writing down a word of it because I was afraid of what others might think. Writing is a passion of mine and one I yearn to develop and that’s the purpose of this whole thing.

I remember listening to an NPR piece on Nora Ephron, a fast-growing heroine of mine, and she was described as “vulnerable, but never destroyed.” Though they were for someone else, I couldn’t think of better words for me. That’s what my world is about, being open to the world and the energies around me and taking in everything I possibly can before the breaking point. I don’t know who I am outside of someone constantly in school, or living within thirty minutes of where she grew up, but I’m ready to find out and I want it all, the good, the bad, the ugly, the broken, the beautiful, the loving, the wreckless, the safe, the peaceful, and the mundane, on here.


Big News: We’re moving to Nashville.

On January 31, 2013, I wrote a few paragraphs about where I imagined myself in the future, in my ideal state. It was warm, there was a breeze, I was surrounded by music and living in a little oasis with Nick. We lived within walking distance of a local grocery and our favorite watering hole. Our record player was on more than our television. I woke up with the sun each morning, drank lots of tea, and read books in a big papasan chair.

Careful what you wish for, because it just might come true.

In just a few weeks, in mid-August, Nick and I are moving to Nashville, Tennessee. “Mixed” doesn’t even begin to describe my emotions. I thought about creating a pie-chart for them but I need some time to compile the averages because it varies by the day, hour, or 5-minute interval. Mostly excited, a lot of nervous-happiness, and a fraction absolutely terrified. Outside of undergrad – I’ve always lived in Cleveland. I surprised myself by coming back but I don’t regret a moment of it and I know I’m leaving Cleveland at a very, very exciting and likely, pivotal time. I’ve only been to Nashville once and I don’t have any family there. But I love the weather, the southern charm, and I cannot wait to live in a city for the first time in my life – up until this point I’ve never lived somewhere truly “walkable.”

I’m also just plain relieved to have this out there, now. It’s all happened very fast but slowly at the same time. Long story short though, Nick has accepted a new career opportunity within his company. I will for sure post more details as I recount the last few months and days but this is good for now. I’m pumped to explore a new city and grow a couple new brain curls learning my way around and meeting wonderful new people!

If you have any recommendations of what to do in Nashville, I’d love to hear them!


Nick and Katie Take Engagement Pictures.

I cannot even count all of the wonderful and super exciting things going on one hand, maybe not even two. But hey, I bet if I get my toes involved, we could cover most of them.

Thankfully, wedding planning has stayed on the positive side of the ledger. Our engagement picture photo session went better than I ever could have imagined. Our engagement and wedding photographer is the one, and only. Jason Thomas Crocker. He was a referral of my close friend and event planning extraordinaire, Lauren, and he is quickly becoming a fast friend of ours. Hell. Anyone that can get my fiance to take pictures for nearly four hours without complaint should be considered family. Jason has posted some highlights over at his blog - I recommend checking those out first if you haven’t! Then, if you’re not sick of looking at us yet, I’ve included my favorites below. And THEN, if you’re still interested, I will post just about all of them on Facebook.

In Ohio City

JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-4JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-7 (1)JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-16JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-25 (1)JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-24 (1)JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-26JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-22

Our Model Faces


The Ring + My Favorite Books Ever


Edgewater Park

JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-40 (1)JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-46JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-53JTC_Katie_Nick_Engagement-47   Ta-Dah! Like I said these are  just my absolute favorites and I will post the rest on Facebook sometime soon. AND in case you’re wondering, yes, you should book our photographer and he loves to travel! Any favorites? 

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Unapologetic Thoughts.

Yes, this is a result of needing to decompress after writing a midterm paper about innovation. There is so much innovation. So much. Product, and service, and management, and my favorite – disruptive innovation. I want to be disruptive. In a good way, don’t worry. But, can you imagine creating something that literally changes the way you live your daily life? Literally? One literally every glass of wine. Literally. Just kidding. I’ll never tell.

My darling fiance stocked our wine stash with a 2011 red from Sonoma, called “if you see kay.” Obviously, I love this because it’s a reference to spelling out a certain favorite swear word of mine, but I think I love it even more because I know he had no idea that it did. Just has a rockstar label. As it should. But let me tell you, it’s delicious.

If you’ve ever wondered how wonderfully useful this word is, I share with you this - it is NOT safe for work (NSFW) unless you work at home. In that case – proceed. I’m just a sucker for words with such great versatility in the English language. It’s too bad it’s considered so crude. When I was in middle school, I figured the f-bomb would be as bad as saying “pissed off,” by now. I’m sad that the future hasn’t beholded this prediction. What happened? Has the generation after me been slacking in coming up with horrific words that are not to be used? Are they too busy playing on iPads or developing Apps? This is so unfortunate.

May we can trade a word and bring the eff word into normalcy? Just switch it out with a much less useful word. Like didgeridoo. Can we have a “d-word” now and bring the f-tastic word into mainstream?

Also. What’s going on with the word “bitch”? I hear it on Jimmy Fallon all the time, but it’s still censored on the radio. It’s exhausting.

Speaking of Jimmy Fallon – I’m working on a list of celebrities that I wish would come to our nuptials party. He definitely makes the list. Let’s assume their significant others are a given, too. Seth Meyers makes the VIP list. And Howard Stern. I really tried not to like him but Boyface listens to him incessantly and sadly, I’ve garnered the appeal. He’s a really strong interviewer. Definitely a result of experience and wisdom. His time in the industry is crazy. I can’t stand the extremist stuff or bits that goes on but gosh, when he talks to Lady Gaga or Eric Stonestreet, or Louis C.K., I’m interested.

There’s so many more people though. Gwen Stefani. Zooey. The lead singer of Postal Service – so he can get back together with Zooey. Cara Delevingne and her eyebrows. Alton Brown. Peter Segal and Karl Kasell.

I still cannot internalize Karl Kasell is not announcing for Wait, Wait..Don’t Tell Me, anymore. Wait, Wait was the beginning of the end for me and podcasts. Podcasts make my 45 minute commute feel like five. I love quiz shows. They make me wish I was on a trivia team.


I am eager for this round of classes to be complete. I must be honest. I have a week of vacation on deck for after this summer session of courses. I want to read every book. All the books. Every single book. And for for FUN. My authority issues really cramp my school style. It’s wild how many books I was “forced” to read in high school that I loathed and then really read after the class and loved. Why is it that when you’re “made” to do something that you would elsewise enjoy, you abhor it? I can’t wait to finish the new Freakonomics book. Perhaps finally finish Wicked? The book buffet is practically endless.

This is about as far as I can go without talking about real things, like my first experience at the Kentucky Derby, or my birthday, or taking engagement pictures, or how I feel about Suburgatory and Mixology being cancelled, or our recent trip to Nashville, or wedding planning, or fitness/weight loss. Or how the news makes me so very sad. But I think this was an okay start. Just okay.

And Emma Stone. I’d want her to be there. And to sing Blues Traveler to us.


Life Update and The Black Cloud Hypothesis.

Tippity type type the boggity chicken.

Sometimes when it’s rainy out, but not necessarily dreary in your mind, you want to listen to melodies from musicals and ponder life.

The Factions of My Life As Baseball Metaphors

In regard to graduate school, I’m up to bat with two on base and we’re down by two. If I can just step up to the plate and hit a homerun this time around – I’m guaranteed to be walked the next time I’m up to bat.

When it comes to wedding planning, I just bumped up to the majors straight from Class A. I made it to first and have a strong lead-off.

In my career, over the last year I’ve made a transition from first base to right field. I’ve been in a constant state of learning and training on a new skill set. I’ve been challenged. There’s also the emotional growth of rediscovering how it feels to not be awesome and flawless at what you’re doing. All the while knowing this is a big step to becoming a valuable player.

I’d like to note that this illustration is COMPLETELY unrelated to my baseball metaphors but I absolutely love and this is wonderful.

What Can Be Controlled

Yesterday, my car died. I’m still not entirely sure why. I had just arrived at school for accounting and was sitting in my car, idling, getting my school materials together and then my car started shaking and then stalled out. Flabbergasted. I then tried to start my car and it would crank but not turn on. Blasted. I placed a call to AAA and went to class.

I didn’t really know what would happen next, my better half was on a business trip and I was out of transportation. Keeping my calm, I looked up dealers in the area and found one that was still open and filled out the paperwork for a loaner over the phone on our (the tow truck driver’s and I’s) way there. We made it minutes before closing and all was well in the world despite the ceaseless rain.

The whole situation inspired me to tweet something:

I’m sure it’s a famous quote from about a thousand people. I’m going to guess this one originates from Buddha. Stab in the dark. I have to admit though; I don’t think my ensemble of peace and control comes from a deep understanding of those words I disseminated across social media. Whenever I’ve feeling ornery, a line of my Dad’s streams through my head – something he would say when we were bellyaching:

“Quit your whining or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

This is my ultimate reminder to be in control of myself, my emotions, my actions. For if I do not take control, someone, some other force at be, will. This is key to not becoming a black-cloud being.

Black-cloud beings are people “followed around” by black clouds. Somehow, everything bad always happens to them. The dog eats their homework, then the bus leaves without them, then they’re sold expired milk, then someone forgets to meet them for dinner. Then, then, then. Listen to the black-cloud people talk, you may notice a pattern. All of this bad stuff happens to them.

They choose to be the victims in the stories of their lives. Sure, we can’t all be the hero, but we can at least be a lovable, imperfect character who is trying to take control of their destiny. Don’t leave your homework somewhere the dog can get it, get to the bus stop early – bring the book you claim you don’t have time to read, check what you buy, and call your dinner date during the day to double-check you’re still on. By not choosing to quit your whining, the universe will continue to give you something to whine about.

Thanks, Dad.

Disclaimer: Insert something here about how good it feels to vent and talk out your feelings. This is different than walking around constantly like a beaten puppy or overreacting to life’s speedbumps.  


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