Kat Bailey

Writer, Artist,

[katbailey]

Something Stupid: How little moments impact relationships

“Darlin’, if we break up, it’ll be over something stupid.” This was my husband Louie’s response, long before we were married, when I requested that he wait a while - until a sticky job situation was

[katbailey]

What I Remember Is – Kat Bailey – Medium

Probably NOT what you remember…

Common experiences, different memories

[katbailey]

[katbailey]

[katbailey]

#6: Working for Happiness with Gretchen Rubin

Episode 6 with Gretchen Rubin is here. You may know her as the author of the New York Times Bestseller The Happiness Project, or most recently The Four Tendencies. She’s a high-powered lawyer turn writer and researcher

[katbailey]

International Housesitting: In the event that all the money is gone

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The heels of Anne’s leather boots pounded the empty cobblestone street. The leisured cadence echoed in the brisk night. A brilliant full moon hung above the village and lit thin streaks of

[katbailey]

Juice Guy: Taking a stand

My grocery store is really known for two things: offering low prices and having the worst parking lot in North America. It’s like a demolition derby where the winner gets affordable avocados. To help with

[katbailey]

Hindsight: An artist who always was

I have a dilemma. While updating inventory in my space at a co-op shop, a flash of horror came over me as I looked at several paintings. I stared at them as if I’d never seen

On being/becoming an artist and coming to an intimate understanding of the moments that made that real.

[katbailey]

Hindsight: An artist who always was

I have a dilemma. While updating inventory in my space at a co-op shop, a flash of horror came over me as I looked at several paintings. I stared at them as if I’d never seen

[bookmania]

The first sentence of a book is a handshake, perhaps an embrace. Style and personality are irrelevant. They can be formal or casual. They can be tall or short or fat or thin. They can obey the rules or break them. But they need to contain a charge. A live current, which shocks and illuminates.

Jhumpa Lahiri, My Life Sentences, The New York Times (Mar. 17, 2012)

How can you apply this to the films you make? Let us know in a comment!

(via projectedblog)

[hopewellkat]

Standing at My Kitchen Window

I stand at my kitchen window

sometimes for an hour.

  Drinking my coffee

looking out at nothing

at everything

  I’ve wondered what

it is that keeps me there

and afraid of figuring it

out

stop myself

so tomorrow I can find

myself looking out again

at the swing set my dad

helped us put together

where the garden once

grew tomatoes my son

planted with his dad

where the sandbox held

G.I. Joe battles in a war

that ended with puberty

  the paths all the dogs who

have lived here made

from one side of the little house

to the other protecting us

from imagined dangers

Another path from the back door

to the shed where my son

made very loud music

and then stopped when

his focus shifted to drugs

  Now it’s all quiet

Except for the last two dogs

The swing set still

The sandbox, garden, and paths

mostly grown over

  I’ll pour myself another cup of coffee

and stand here a minute or two longer.

[salon]

The creator of G.I. Joe “was convinced that boys secretly played with Barbie… and deserved their own doll…”

[katbailey]

Loved those days...

[hopewellkat]

And then there's real fear...

So, about six weeks ago, I was trying to mentally prepare for my older son to voluntarily surrender at the federal prison in Beaumont. We were planning a BBQ and given how edgy we had all become, I did not think it was going to happen. That Saturday morning, June 29th, I was planning a trip into town (I live way out in the country) to visit with him and his wife about the plans. I woke up to frantic text messages and voice mails (I put my phone on silent at night after years of phone anxiety) from my younger son’s roommate. My boy was in the hospital. At first, I was told he had a concussion and the local hospital wanted him to be checked out by a neurologist. That seemed reasonable so I headed out fairly calmly.

Really, I have worked with kids for decades and known many with concussions. I’ve had a concussion. My partner (Louie) has had many. I wasn’t overly concerned. I arrived in Conroe and could not find him at the hospital to which I thought he was transferred. Frantic calls to my other son (Lee) and to Louie began and ended when Louie told me he was at St. Joseph’s in Bryan. That was an hour away. I set out and on a whim, called his cell phone a few times.

When it rang, I was so relieved, but not for long. A nurse informed me that he was on the surgery floor and they were waiting for CT scan results and that the surgeon was preparing. She said my son could not talk to me. I asked her to tell him I was sent to the wrong hospital and that I was quickly on my way.

When I arrived, it was much more serious than I expected even after what the nurse had told me. Oddly, that’s when my fear and anxiety set in. My heart was breaking watching his suffering and hearing his fears, “I messed up my head, Mom… I want my head to be ok”. That’s when he told me about the brain bleed. It would be weeks before I found out there were two (I’m glad I didn’t know that then). It would be weeks before he started to even feel a little bit better. And during those weeks, though my days were spent in gratitude for the near miss (for it could have been so much worse), my nights were spent in sleepless bouts of “what ifs” and fear of something else happening. He’s had such a bad year with emotional turmoil and now this. I haven’t felt this scared ever.

Meanwhile, we had to take Lee to surrender and my heart broke some more.

I’m trying to learn that all that fear and worry didn’t change the outcome of any of this. The fear only inhibited my ability to be the best mom I could be to these grown boys. Maybe in a few ways it made me a little better, but it wasn’t worth it. I have to learn this. I have to learn this. Worry does nothing positive. Fear is useless. I want to be braver.

[katbailey]

From four years ago... 

[hopewellkat]

It's all relative and we shouldn't compare...

Several years ago, I wrote an essay titled $20. The gist of the piece chronicled three years of priority changes I had gone through regarding my sons. At the time, I would have given anything to have what I deemed “normal” problems with my kids. I would have traded places with just abut anyone who complained about their kids making a C on a report card or trying to get their boys to pick up wet towels from the bathroom floor. At the time, I was coming home to drunk teenagers in my backyard and buying drug tests in bulk from online suppliers. My mom had just died. My house - inside and out - was a wreck. I was working two jobs. It was all too much. I longed for the days of planning zoo trips and having season passes to Astroworld.

Thinking of that now, I realize (thank goodness for the perspective age brings) that I simply cannot compare pain, worry, fear, and agony. I also realize that most people are going through their own kind of hell and I not only should respect that, I should empathize and do what I can to help regardless of the day to day of my struggles. I am Blessed and there are many, many people who are living in dangerous, desperate situations that I can’t even imagine. No, days aren't "rosy" around here. But there’s so much for which I’m grateful. Every. Single. Hour.

[merlin]

Guitar lessons? Baby-sitting?

Whatever it is, I just admire her youthful industry.

[hopewellkat]

I do too.

[strix-deactivated20160721]

[hopewellkat]

Indeed. More on this from Hopewell Kat in a future post.

[katbailey]

It helps to look at the world from some else’s point of view.