Cat lady and big loser, Katie Smith is sometimes a social worker and sometimes a writer. She loves Mexican food and yoga. She writes about politics, not having a lot of money and her current complaints, while trying to be outlandishly funny. She likes people that are nice to each other and texting her mom.
My favorite day of the year has finally arrived. In its honor (and in honor of my eternal love for @insearchofbeautyandlolz), I whipped up my most favorite face mask yet.
Though it’s the consistency of very good cookie dough, this shit has my skin glowing -- not to mention so soft that I keep absentmindedly stroking my cheek. Best of all, you can make it yourself! (Or braid my hair, and I’ll make it for you.)
For a Spooky Time, Try:
1 tbsp. activated charcoal
3 tbsp. bentonite clay
3 tbsp. turmeric
1 tbsp. vitamin E oil
10-20 drops of your favorite essential oils - I used lemon for the astringent quality, but lavender or tea tree would also be incredible.
This recipe makes enough for a few masks. Store in a sealed container either in room temperature or in the fridge (if you’re into cold masks). When you’re ready to use, scoop a tablespoon or two into a bowl and combine with either apple cider vineagar (for oily skin) or coconut oil (for dry skin). Use only non-metal bowls and spoons.
There are so many things I could write about, that I want to set down now that the dust has settled. What have I learned from my time at Posada? How have I grown? What do I miss? Why did I leave, and what are my goals? What the hell were my strengths in a job that often made me take an L? I could write about my anxieties, my work grief, my Dixon grief, my loss of identity... I guess I could write about myself, maybe about my dad -- that comes up whether I want it to or not.
For now, I’ll stick to something easy: my goals.
In my last month in Austin, I started bullet journaling -- out of some need to record every last second, memory before it was gone. Looking back at it now, they look like the product of a terrible bout of mania. My lists are too long, too unrealistic, almost totally unaccomplished. Perhaps that’s why I felt so defeated all the time.
A year ago, I set down some goals for my service years -- largely based on what I *thought* service would be about. I kind of cringe to bring them up here. Again, they’re too long, too unrealistic, and often they’re things I just don’t want to accomplish in the first place.
Take a walk outside every day. This is a beautiful idea, but I moved to Texas. That is easier said than done. Although, I definitely have taken more walks in these two years than I ever did in Philly.
Reignite your love of music. I thought about this one a lot while in Austin. I used to be obsessed with live music in high school: I nearly majored in music engineering instead of Spanish. (Could you *imagine*?) And I lost this passion as I got older. But live music was hands down my favorite part of these two years, and I hope to keep it up.
Learn to live and love openly. I was reaching for something specific here: a direct service worker must work and love in this particular way, a trait I admired in so many mentors. I would think about it with every crying client and every snotty kid, hanging off of my office door. And yet, I could never actualize it. I could joke, be thoughtful, offer rides and kind gestures, be silly with kids. But I never was this beacon of compassion, patience and presence that I so strove for. Reflection has shown me that I struggle to be vulnerable, even in such a sacred and unique space as Posada, and perhaps that’s why I can’t throw myself into right relationship with abandon. But I also think I connected with a ton of clients for other reasons: my love language was to try and learn Amharic, remind them of appointments and take sweet family photos. And finally I am happy with that.
Delete all the social media apps on my phone. If anything, I’ve gotten worse at this.
Lead with compassion, not judgment. This is a work in progress, professionally and personally. It’s become my mantra. I think I’ve grown a lot in my ability to communicate tough, emotional things, rather than just quickly judging -- as I have been known to do.
Make simple living a joyous part of the rest of my life. If anything, I feel most successful here.
I’m skipping over some embarrassing ones that truly reveal how much I didn’t understand what I was getting into. If I had to re-write this list now, I’d include:
Wash your hands, eat your food, leave on time (the work mantra).
Learn everything I can about broken refrigerators and air conditioners; bed bugs (check); house painting; cleaning up bodily fluids; babies, birth, pregnancy and postpartum; Portuguese and Amharic; benefits; and obviously immigration law.
Throw some killer parties (check).
Learn to cook Ethiopian food.
Teach all the babies how to fist bump.
Support this community of strong women as best I can and as much as they want.
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well54
your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.22
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land87
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home9
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
My heart and spirit are marching with every woman and supporter of women out there today, as I sit at the little Posada Esperanza desk. Today, instead, I’m here to welcome a new resident from Mexico, who’s fleeing a violent partner. She’ll be here for the next few months to have a safe place to focus on creating a new life.
Some of our sweet babes on Christmas.
The events today are important, but certainly millions of white, middle-class American women (largely the same demographic that elected Trump) marching for the feminist movement is not enough. If ever intersectional feminism can be realized, it will require much, much more from me than just walking. I hope we can take all this publicity and good energy, and use it to mobilize.
As a white woman, I know I need to earn back the trust of every person of color, every immigrant, every person of faith, anyone in the Muslim community, anyone living in poverty and people of every sexual orientation and gender identity -- because white women with power failed you.
With this solidarity in mind, white feminists need to put their asses on the line for anyone that this administration will push out. We need to advocate, to amplify non-white voices, to boost power and to ultimately listen. Ally-ship will mean a lot of uncomfortable moments, of feeling excluded, but that is a fucking small price to pay considering all the privilege I can leverage daily.
Intersectional feminism requires all kinds of work, all kinds of people and all kinds of support. So, today, I’m trying to do a small part of that in welcoming our new resident. As a woman, I’m nothing if I don’t support other women.
I couldn’t help but smile Saturday morning as I learned of Fidel Castro’s passing. Having studied and following Cuba’s politics from a relative distance, I have to marvel at the the romanticized, larger-than-life dictator at its center. I mean, damn, we’ve tried to assassinate him how many times? And everyone just knows this? And is cool with it? And also HE’S SURVIVED? But now, at 90 years old, it’s fuckin diverticulitis that gets him?
Castro’s abuses of power and laundry list of human rights’ violations are unforgivable. Regardless of my opinion as some dumb, uninvolved millennial, that is non-negotiable. He was a ruthless dictator and a pretty crazy dude.
But my liberal, bleeding heart bleeds a little more when I think of young Fidel Castro, fresh out of law school, gathering up his friends and likeminded people to organize and revolt. It’s pretty incredible to think about all he and his gang of nice lawyers and guerrilla warriors were able to accomplish under the guise of improving the quality of life for those on the margins.
Sitting here now, home for the holiday and the election on my brain, I can try to imagine how Castro must have felt, as Batista fled the island in 1959: it’s like the little guy finally won (and, y’know, pretty much fucked it all up – but that comes later).
One thing that’s always stuck out is an interview I read in college with Castro, where he sets out his hope for the revolution. Of course, a cursory google search can’t conjure it up now, but the jist involved Castro’s general desire to found an “egalitarian” revolution, trying to avoid the pitfalls of communist socialism. He sought a balance more like democratic socialism, in part due to his obsession with the United States and its trade with the island.
Yet, like in our relationships with so many Latin American countries, Eisenhower basically gave him the geopolitical finger and cut the country’s sugar import quota – not to mention, just generally excluding Cuba from any big league stuff. To make up for the financial loss, Castro turned to the Soviet Union, where be basically signed up for a Marxist dictatorship.
Now, I hear ya: it’s been decades. If Castro regretted his move to communism and its subsequent failures, he coulda pulled out years ago. Instead, he became complacent with his power and decided that was a way cooler way to operate than, like, taking care of poor people.
However, I can’t help but wonder what Cuba would look like today if the United States didn’t make a point of intervening in Latin American governments and what’s more, if we’d had strong relations with the island. Or even like normal relations. Maybe Castro’s revolutionary dream would come to fruition in more ways than just free healthcare and education.
I know we all weep at the word “socialism,” but damn, isn’t it time that someone started taking care of the poor?
I’ve learned enough about emotional intelligence in my slow, bumbling development into adulthood to notice when I’m resisting. When procrastinating is more than just laziness, more likely my body’s indication that HEY, BITCH! I KNOW YOU’RE TRYNA AVOID WORKING THROUGH THESE FEELINGS, BUT MWAHAHA THERE’S NO ESCAPE.
I felt that the most during my junior year of college when I was applying to study abroad in Spain. I’d write two words of my application essay before flipping to my budget spreadsheet, again calculating what not working for six months would cost me, googling photos of how beautiful Granada would truly be and finally succumbing to the pressures of Netflix. Here is something that’s supposed to be one of my life’s most exciting decisions; why did it make me all dry-mouthed and awkward?
The recent silence on my blog feels kind of the same. Writing has been something that has kept me balanced, creative and sane for months. Yet, I’ve been stalled for the past few months, no longer so stoked to give my totally-original-awkward-and-hilarious take on life in Austin as a Jesuit Volunteer.
I’m not sure how to write the reason why. Maybe it’s all the beautiful photos of successful, loving, compassionate JVC communities I saw on Facebook, and my stoking jealousy over not feeling the same way. Maybe it’s my old trope of being to proud to admit to my mistakes. Maybe I just wanted to keep this part of my life private.
The last six months of my year of service were a challenge, in fact way more difficult than they needed to be. My community became a place of unhealthy tension, conflict and resentment. I avoided going home, celebrated any reason to stay at work late and poured myself into Posada. It’s probably part of the reason why I felt so called to stay a second year.
With some hindsight, I can learn a lot from the experience (or so says my new therapist here in Austin), but the feelings still feel a little too raw to be touched just yet. Nevertheless, I’m finally at a place where I can think of them again -- and write again -- without diving totally morosely into a Bob’s Burgers binge.
Take heart, dear friends, I am back and as sassy as ever.
“what they did yesterday afternoon” -- Warsan Shire
they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?
i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
Yeah, I Know I Fucked Up (March and April, Revisited)
Starting off with a bang: I will spend the next year in Austin! I have signed on with Posada Esperanza for a second year (through Americorps instead of JVC) to dedicate probably another 52 Saturday nights to watching kids’ movies and eating someone’s ice cream. With my new, fancy ~*~Assistant Director~*~ title, I really hope to spend most of my time in immigration advocacy. I took this BIA accreditation class knowing I could never be accredited, but really just looking to be a better advocate. So, it’s time to make that happen!
And, to get all the good stuff out at once: the always incredible Patrick James has agreed to be my roommate! One step closer to being real people that date in the same freaking state ho my God I know are you sick of us yet?
Part of my reticence to dive into this March definitely hinges on my personal struggles in JVC -- on the local and programmatic levels. To explain them would be to take up too much of this post and my emotional health at this sitting, but know I have cried a lot and learned even more.
What’s been life giving?
My boyfriend’s visit spilled over into March, so I loved being able to take him to Kerbey Lane, watch John Oliver and Lip Sync Battle on YouTube, hang around Posada, take in a show at the Alamo Drafthouse and hit up Gordough’s and Easy Tiger together. It felt awesome to show him around a city where he’ll be living one day!
The always fabulous Julia also briefly made an appearance in Austin, and though we didn’t make it to Barb’s, it left my heart awfully full.
Kendrick dropped a new album.
We celebrated one of many Easter parties with my roommate’s clients and coworkers!
The President was here for SXSW, and that was a lot.
One of our support people threw a great spring break dinner that ignited a lot of my spiritual goals and my love of pink grapefruit candles.
I’ve tried to get into the practice of mindfulness walks.
We spent Easter with my community mate’s family, and it was so Polish and delicious.
The Easter night Convivo at Casa was so fun and beautiful, and I wish every day of my job were so harmonious.
One of my famous former residents had a birthday party for her beautiful son, and it was epic.
I’ve started making cookies in the microwave when I’m sad.
I’ve been spending more time at the river lately, trying to soak up the beautiful weather before it becomes intolerable.
We threw a pot luck for former JVs in the Austin area, which was a nice reminder of how weirdly unsupported our community is, but also how great our coworkers and friends are.
At the end of these two months, I got the chance to visit Montana finally! We hiked a lot and watched a lot of movies. I made my boyfriend watch Dirty Dancing for the first time, which was an experience. I only got sick for half of the trip, so it was mostly a win lol.
Most interesting, though, was to see how another JV community works.
My immigration class is over, and I fuckin passed! *Dances*
Our kids are butterflies!
What’s there to do in Austin?
Lots of cheap sushi at DK with the fair Emily.
We saw the Vagina Monologues at UT, and it was cool to feel like I’m in college again.
In case you really don’t wanna step up your yoga game, you can always go to yoga with old people.
During SXSW, we snuck into the NYLON party at Cheer Up Charlie’s, caught a really angry political punk band, BLXPLTN, at Flamingo Cantina (but somehow missed El Tule) and magically caught Grouplove at Mohawk -- their first show in two whole years and a baby. I also saw Sweet Spirit, Peaches (lol) and Beach Slang at Waterloo.
But mostly, to avoid the SXSW mayhem, I spent a lot of time at Barbarella’s in March.
I went to a PDL protest at Capital Metro’s headquarters before going to work one Thursday morning.
I killed some time at Geninue Joe’s on West Anderson Lane in a change of scenery one morning.
Even more beautiful is Mozart’s. Like holy crap!
Joe’s Mexican Food and Bakery has a hilarious name, but is pretty baller.
Staff meetings have brought us to Cisco’s, Papa Joe’s Tex Mex, Cisco’s, El Taquito and Cisco’s. I exaggerate, but only kind of. We’re trying to get all of our biscuits in before it closes.
We finally climbed Mt. Bonnell for a spirituality event.
I finally made it to Indian Roller, the weirdo bar by our house.
How had I never eaten midnight pancakes at Kerbey Lane before?!
Food truck Taqueria Morales is my current breakfast taco fave.
Cuban restaurant Habana is expensive, but has a bangin’ happy hour.
What’ve you been reading?
I fell into the Southern Reach Triology by Jeff Vandermeer, when my boyfriend gifted me the first book for my birthday, and oh boy am I obsessed. The third is currently waiting for me at the library.
What’ve you watched?
I saw Hail Ceasar! at the Alamo... and really felt like someone cut out 30 minutes of important parts to arrive at an abrupt ending.
Room was so beautiful and amazing.
This season of How to Get Away with Murder is finished, and OH. MY. GOD.
I binged the first two Divergent movies in order to see Allegiant in theatres.
I started Jane the Virgin per the suggestion of like everyone I know and wow, it’s so fun and addicting. I can’t recommend it enough.
I finally sat down and watched Man of the House.
I watched both Bridge Jones movies for the first time -- which is weird since I love Jane Austen.
All the moms at work and I watched Armageddon con el caballero guapo Ben Affleck.
I saw Rear Window for the first time this month, as well as like 5 viewings of Inside/Out.
What’ve you listened to?
Since this is for two months, I’ll indulge in two songs:
“Chicago (Demo)” by Sufjan Stevens
“Hold On, We’re Going Home” by Drake
What’ve you written?
Like I said, writing took a backseat this month to all of the above. I have switched from writing blogs at work and press releases at TRAVA to posting to both Facebooks when I remember and even then, poorly.
For Unwritten, I wrote about the (former) Presidential candidates as high schoolers, my dad, Harry Styles, Zayn and International Women’s Day. I have cared about them all equally.
What’ve you done at work?
I did my first new intake (and now, in hindsight, she has moved out).
One of my residents that has lived with us forever is MAKING MOVES, and it’s been awesome to be a part of the process.
I’ve really taken on more at work lately -- in a way, to compensate for my anxieties in community.
My favorite baby moved out, so I’ve been accepting applications for my next main squeeze.
I tried to put on big girl pants and use my new immigration knowledge, and it went like okay.
I am pretty burnt out over my one client, who breaks rules, is disrespectful and potentially hurtful to her child. But she’s also incredibly sweet, smart and funny to me and her whole family, so it’s hard for me to navigate.
Casa’s annual fundraising dinner was a blast. I got to run a frozen margarita machine and eat a lot of fancy cheese.
Spring Break shifts were crazy, also the bomb. All of our kids were home, and I chose to surrender to the madness and encourage dance parties and discussions of gender norms.
What’ve you learned?
I can sort of make my own shakshuka.
Infused waters are pretty fun, and I feel like the world’s oldest woman in saying so.
I am very grateful for my work community.
Cars are complicated. Conflict is complicated. Emotions are complicated. Entitlement is complicated.
The more I watch Jane the Virgin, the more I realize just how uncreative of a writer I am. I so desperately want to feel Jane’s inspiration -- furiously typing away at her novel, at short stories and at the newest adventures of her heroine Juana. But it’s just not in me.
I will never forget my first class in creative nonfiction, where it all clicked into place, and I realized this medium was the one for me: an outlet for creativity, but in the first person and in prose.
I’ve only ever written like four pieces in either fiction or poetry that are worth a damn, and on the eve of my mother’s visit to Austin, this feels appropriate:
The sink water comes on in a rush
And resounds against aluminum
In that completely satisfying increase of pitch
Before it spills over.
Click, click, click.
And a spark.
And now I wait.
Every day I wait.
Quite a few times a day.
On the cold days.
On the sick days.
On the sad days.
On the home days.
I get out my mug and yours,
Both of which were gifts,
(One of which was from me.)
Two teaspoons of sugar in each,
(But a little extra for yours.)
Two tea bags.
And back to waiting.
Waiting for the chaos to start inside that little aluminum hotbox
Just before the whistle blows.
Today, I bought a cup of tea
To chase away the Monday cold.
No ritual, no process, no waiting.
The past two and a half months have been a whirlwind of decision making, reflection and travel -- interspersed with bouts of watching Jane the Virgin for hours at a time. Writing for a while had become a chore: something I did to satisfy the social pressures at TRAVA and Unwritten, but not to make my heart happy or feel creative. My drafts and iPhone notes are full of ideas and opening lines that have gathered dust before slowly fading away into the land of forgotten memories a la Bing Bong.
Tomorrow, I leave for a silent retreat: time for introspection and personal faith exploration that I mostly hope to use to satisfy my ever-growing personal to-do list (paint my nails, finish a book, start another book). But I want to use it to center myself again, and part of feeling centered is taking the time to write more than just monthly recaps.
So, I hope you all can see that happen.
And so, to close with a little slice of the last three months, this is my wheel pose that won’t quite wheel.
I Went to SXSW, Because You Couldn’t Afford a Plane Ticket.
Though every authentic Austinite I know dreaded the madness of 10-day South By Southwest (SXSW), I have to admit: it’s pretty cool to have so many talented humans and their fans descend upon your city... even if it means so many tech start-up dads also must arrive, SXSW badges hung around their necks like college freshmen that still wear their lanyards.
Here’s a round-up of the coolest bands I got to see live and some new tunes I learned about.
(Please, hold all your comments about how my life is so cool and just visit already.)
1. BLXPLTN
“Start Fires” (Filmed at my favorite bar in Austin during last SXSW)
February has always been *my* month. Though it started off with a nasty bout of Hand Foot and Mouth disease that tried to thwart my good mood, I persisted. In a way, getting sick was kind of awesome. For weeks or probably months, I had been so busy here that I’d forget to take medications fairly constantly or fall asleep mid-thought. So, taking nearly a week off to self-care was an excellent way to start the month of me. Especially since -- literally a day after recovering...
WE WENT TO MARDI GRAS. Guys, I am not a party person, but man, you gotta do Mardi Gras in New Orleans at least once, right? Though, I mostly learned that it involves former frat stars throwing entire bags of beads square in your face while everyone stands around and drinks outside.
Amid all of this February revelry, though, has been a ton of anxiety about my dad. Each morning since 2016 began, I woke up dreading the coming of February 16, knowing it will celebrate the 10-year anniversary of my father’s death. At the root of these feelings is my nostalgia, simply recognizing how much time has passed without him. Ten years is almost half my life, like holy shit that’s absurd.
When the day arrived this month, no lightening struck, and I didn’t fall apart. I received so many cards and so much love, and for myself, I spent the day doing things my dad and I loved to do. (Mostly, eating.)
What’s been life giving?
Cherry limeades and raspas on a very sore throat.
I sent PJ one present every day between Feb. 1 and 14 -- in true heartfelt-yet-overwhelming fashion.
In New Orleans, we spent most of our time going to parades -- but also made it to Cafe du Monde, Jackson Square and Bourbon Street; ate Po Boys at Parkway Tavern; and obviously ate at Popeye’s.
One of my moms at work calls me “Katita.”
Thanks to my lovely boyfriend and his mother: we are going to Eaux Claires in August!
I facetimed with Jessie, Becky and Emily all-in-one-bed, and my heart exploded.
I spent a lot of time googling John Legend and Chrissy Teigen this month, also lusting after her cookbook.
The night before my birthday, one little lady sang me her ABC’s and Five Little Monkeys as a present.
Kirbey Lane had peanut butter, banana and Nutella pancakes for my birthday.
For Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend sent me a dark chocolate cowboy boot. HOW AMAZING IS IT THAT THAT EXISTS?
Even more amazing, HE VISITED AUSTIN FINALLY OMG AHHHHH!
Together, we ate breakfast tacos and biscuits at Cisco’s, Graffiti Park (finally), the Austin History Center, Book People (see below), Black’s BBQ, UT, Tutti Frutti (for his sore throat) and Convivio!
Best of all, I spent my birthday weekend at the fabulous Sahara Lounge, listening to salsa music and feeling loved.
What’s there to do in Austin?
For staff meetings, we visited a former resident seeking sanctuary at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Chu-Mikal’s and Bennu.
On Valentine’s Day, I went to a beautiful, melty yoga workshop at TRAVA - a love-yourself way to spend the day.
To learn about gentrification and the history of Austin’s formerly huge African-American community, we visited the African American Cultural & Heritage Facility and its totally beautiful mosaic.
We finally feel old enough to go to Rainey Street, made some friends at Bar 96 and Bungalow.
I went to my first Black Swan Yoga class, and boy are they a lot.
Finally I visited the Cat Cafe, only to learn about its history of pushing out family-owned institutions and get sad.
Oh, and we went to a Bernie Sanders rally.
What’ve you been reading?
In honor of Galentine’s Day this month, I finally read Yes, Please! which PJ gifted me for Galentine’s Day 2015. Amy Poehler is honestly one of the funniest, sweetest and best spoken people, and I really admire her lifestyle and the way she moves in Hollywood.
I also read the first three chapters of Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl while waiting for my boyfriend in Book People, and I’m hooked.
What’ve you watched?
While home and infested with Hand Foot and Mouth, I watched every rom-com we own, but also Magic Mike XXL. It was meh, but Childish was in it!
I also live tweeted Fifty Shades of Grey.
I finally watched The Hateful Eight. Super dark in comparison to all the shit I watch nowadays. Plus, I didn’t really like any one character? At least, in a Tarantino movie when everyone dies, I usually want someone to win.
Mistress America is adorable, and I’m obsessed with Greta Gerwig. Apparently, so is her husband, director Noah Baumbach. In researching him, I learned that all of his depressing movies ended once he met her in 2011.
Oh, and How to Get Away with Murder is back and all-consuming.
Ditto with Broad City.
What’ve you listened to?
“Sunday Candy” by Donnie Trumpet and the Social Experiment
What’ve you written?
I have written about Ted Cruz, living simply, Bernie Sanders, DIY Valentine’s Day gifts and regrettably, Justin Bieber for Unwritten. I also created a Sorting Hat quiz in honor of the 8th Harry Potter book.
This month, I also re-wrote the entire Posada website, three blogs for the website and two press releases for Trava.
What’ve you done at work?
One client that I took-on in August has been with us for over a year due to a particularly complicated immigration case. Thankfully, this month I learned there will be an end in sight for her. We’re making moves toward getting a passport, her ITIN and her own apartment.
I successfully de-escalated a huge conflict for the first time.
I love my Tuesday night shifts/Wednesday morning shifts that I share with Miss Julia.
What’ve you learned?
Sometimes, I feel like my community never totally drank the JVC kool-aid, especially after seeing everyone in NOLA. But, in the end, I’m happy about that. I’d rather be semi-jaded that totally invested.
My house needed a chore chart, still needs to learn how to communicate with one another.
Next year’s JVs have to advocate for better lease terms with the Diocese of Austin.
It is really hard to say goodbye to your favorite baby.
This past Sunday, I overslept my normal alarm -- waking up just too late to attend the gym’s Intermediate Vinyasa class. A white woman attempting to me ~*~trendy~*~, I couldn’t continue my weekend routine without yoga! What would I instagram?
Anxiously, I opened my MindBody app and saw my 9 a.m. yoga teacher also offered a 10 a.m. class. Fantastic! Without any hesitation or investigation, I registered, got dress and ran to the gym.
When I arrived, however, instead of finding lots of excited millennials like myself, I found John, Nancy, Carol and Edna... the apparent kings and queens of the 10 a.m. Sunday Stretching class, a low impact yoga class designed for the elderly to keep active.
Boy, not only did I learn to read more carefully, I had a totally hilarious hour-long yoga experience that I can’t wait to continue next weekend!
1. “If you’re breathing, you’re doing yoga.”
The always lovely Meghan reminded us at the start of our practice that yoga is first and foremost about breathing. If ever we couldn’t get into a pose, but were mindfully breathing, we were still practicing.
2. There’s no use in taking yourself too seriously.
I feel like yoga (especially in Austin) is all about hot people doing bendy things for an ego boost. For myself, it’s even easy for me to fall into that. But there’s nothing quite like doing yoga in Modell’s sweatpants and not being afraid to look silly.
3. Don’t be afraid to speak up.
If I can’t get a pose, I’ll either (a) keep trying until I struggle or (b) assume a humiliated modified pose. But leave it to the elderly to exclaim, “My body doesn’t do THAT!” every time something felt weird.
4. OWN IT.
We all have a body that does the best that it can. Own that shit! Thank your body for all that it does for you -- even when that isn’t all that you want it to do.
Every night this week as I have sat here and tried to blog, cataloging all of my complaints and joys for the week... I keep just not doing it and re-watching Man of the House instead. Is this all that 23 will have to offer me?
A REAL LIFE photo of me as a cheerleader, far less glamorous than the famous ladies in this cheerleading movie.
My lil baby blog has been hardcore feeling my neglect this month -- but it’s only a sign of all the good distractions life keeps bringing my way!
I loved being in Philly for New Year’s, running around the city and watching the fireworks -- not to mention, the Mummer’s Parade. I hate standing outside in the cold with drunk people on any other day, except January 1st. An excellent visit home was topped off by running into my boyfriend in the airport before our flights back, sharing some crab fries over an Eagles game.
I never do anything in small, manageable bites, so my New Years’ goals are: to be meaner to the male guests at Posada; to make my own cleaning products; to listen to more podcasts; to learn French (or at least try with our French-speaking moms); to go to the library more; and to eat our produce before it goes bad.
Mostly, though, I want to dedicate this year to my yoga practice and to really step my shit up. I went to a workshop on arm balances and am trying literally every day for my tripod headstand.
What’s been life giving?
When we finally exchange Christmas presents, I GOT A PREP SWEATSHIRT, haven’t taken it off.
At home, I saw two of my old roommates and finally got to catch up.
Being back at work meant SO MANY WELCOME BACK HUGS. My favorite was a giant, pick-me-up bear hug from a Somali woman.
Welcome-back-community bonding... WITH FREE PIZZA.
The HEB Camp in Leakey, Texas is beautiful.
I saw Miss Kate for her birthday, cried.
I went to Dairy Queen twice in three days.
Kammer Cakes and lectures made me realize how much I miss Jesuits.
My coworker spent a Saturday at the JV house in the sunshine with guac.
As a community, we’ve stepped up our rom-com game.
At least one of the San Antonio JVs visited. We have friends!
I finally updated my iPhone, learned that Apple News is bae.
I’m taking an online class in immigration law, qualifying me to one day become a BIA accredited representative. HAYYYYY!
Our JVC Re-Orientation was so-so, but we had a fancy AF rental car.
What’s there to do in Austin?
In addition to work-trading at Treehouse, I have started volunteering at Trava, a community-based fitness center WHERE I CAN GO TO HIP-HOP CLASSES FOR FREE.
Winter Jam at Austin Beer Garden and Brewery was a long wait, super fun.
The Sahara Lounge is a second from Posada, so my coworkers and I have named it our new spot. There’s a fuckin buffet for your cover charge.
You can walk the Green Belt, but maybe have a plan first.
I’m so grateful for having discovered Cuvée on E 6th Street, a non-pretentious coffee place where I can literally just get black coffee without a sideways glance.
Staff meetings have taken me to: Taco-Mex on E 12th Street, Kealing playground for a picnic and La Fruta Feliz on Manor Road. Continuing our breakfast taco tour of East Austin...
Avoid the Torchy’s Tacos on 51st Street, because the cashier there asked me how high school was going.
What’ve you watched?
For community night, we watched Echotone, a cool documentary about gentrification and the Austin music scene.
Alamo showed Jackie Brown for free in honor of Tarantino’s newest movie, and it was rad.
My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Again.
What’ve you listened to?
“Baby When I Close My Eyes” by Sweet Spirit.
What’ve you written?
This month, I joined Unwritten’s trending team and doubled my usual writing count. I wrote about the State of the Union, cat vines, Rand Paul and Sarah Palin. (One of these things is not like the others...)
I also officially began my freelance relationship with my University and wrote for the College of Arts and Sciences magazine, Intellect. Look at me!
What’ve you done at work?
We have an INTERN. How legit.
I re-designed our ESL curriculum for this month to focus more on skill-based classes and meeting our moms’ goals.
I wanted many small children duel with hedge trimmers.
Topping off one of the craziest Saturday shifts of my life, someone broke into Posada, and I was lead investigator.
It’s becoming difficult for me to not be an Americorps volunteer, along with all my coworkers. I’m always left on shifts alone while they do things, and my FOMO is unreal.
Jules and I worked an entire 12-hour shift together, complete with Torchy’s queso and Shark Boy and Lava Girl.
Lately, I get down on myself for not being the best at work -- the first to volunteer for a job or to try and prove myself. On the one hand: I’ve been here over a month longer than my coworkers, so we’re just at different places. I might burn out in ways they won’t, and vice versa. Instead, I should just focus on accompanying the women I work with and leave the ego trips at home.
What’ve you learned?
I’ve been sad about my dad a lot this month, basically full of dread since the calendar opened on 2016.
Baked oatmeal is the shit.
I used to care a lot about movies, but now I haven’t seen a single Oscar nominee. So, I’ve decided to dedicate a portion of my stipend to seeing one movie a month.
I want to rely more on FJVs and our support people.
Anyone with a Facebook knows that one of my families is being targeted by the recent deportation raids. This month, from them I learned just how terrifying it must be for families to live in fear of deportation every day. But more importantly, I learned how badass people can be when you give them the chance and a cause to fight for.
One way that my boyfriend and I have stayed connected this year is to send each other songs every day (or most days) to share what we’re interested in and to feel like we’re a little more together than we are. It’s even evolved into #SoofSunday, an obligatory swap of Sufjan Stevens songs on Sundays and thinking we’re clever.
