"Nice Ass" Day

After 5 months with a back injury, I jogged for the first time today. I did my ass a favor on this nice ass day.

It was nothing special, only about 2 miles.

But it felt great!

And here's how it went down:

I bought a pair of Sketchers Shape Ups. They are black and look very hip hop. I've never owned black sneakers like this before and am still getting used to not only how they look but how I walk in them, sometimes I think I'm walking like a cowboy. But they center my posture and work my calves, thighs and booty as I do simple walking or elliptical work and my chiropractor says they're gold, so off I go. And in the aftermath, I can totally feel the burn in my muscles in that way I forgot about.

I decided after the job ended today to talk Wilson to Frick Park for our standard 4 mile jaunt. Then Eminem came on the shuffle and I started moving faster. Then some Klaus Von Klaus, Rihanna, more Eminem and faster I went. And I picked up my pace with Wilson panting in tow (he's as out of shape as I am) and we cruised the last two miles all the way home! In the end, I put "Feel Good Inc" by the Gorillaz on repeat so that I would have no excuse to slow down and give up. It worked!

I'll likely pay the price tomorrow when the chiro manipulates my tender back, but there's something so rewarding about pushing my body after a long day at work and it's even more rewarding as I sip on my Pinot Grigio here on the veranda and KNOW that I did something that makes me feel a lot more like me than I have felt lately.

The ingredients for a "Nice Ass Day" are in equal parts as follows:

Sketchers Shape Ups

Frick Park

Wilson (or a good dog!)

Eminem

Klaus Von Klaus

Gorillaz

And repeat...

April in General

In general, the month of April has been wonderful. Today is the birthday of one of my dear friends, Mr. Braverman Associate Professor, and yesterday, the love of my life turned 38, or as I like to call it, THIRTY GREAT. Two of my favorite people with birthdays within 2 days? Wow.

End of April also marks the near and dear end of a fantastic but long semester at Point Park, where I taught two back to back sections - 8 am - 11 am then 11:20 - 2:20 pm - Mon and Fri - of Production I, on the post-production end of the cinematic spectrum. In case you don't know, Point Park has an amazing Cinema and Digital Arts program that I have had the pleasure of teaching classes at for THREE semesters now! This semester, as the P1 Post instructor (I taught P1 in Spring of last year, but I taught on the Production end of the instructing team) I covered Final Cut Pro from the basic but vitally important areas like media management (which I beat into their heads!) to some simple but creative techniques found in the software, to audio editing and building a "soundscape." I taught with Jeremy and John, who covered Production, and I believe we had some incredible films this semester from up-and-coming freshmen who truly grew and developed not only their technical execution, but narrative storytelling, aesthetic, style and form. There's always a few stinkers, always, who hate your guts or just don't get it, but isn't that the way with everything? We had our final screening tonight and I also loved the P1 films that screened from the 2 other sections. Our final screening tonight was comprised of 12 films from my 2 plus the other 2 sections of P1, all 4 minutes or under - and it's a student-voted showcase of the semesters "best." And yes, it really was impressive! While some of my personal favs from my 2 sections didn't make the very small screening cut, so many students show so much promise and I truly believe in them. This is a proud (sin) moment for me -- and while I take no credit for their work per se I am proud to call them my students and to be their professor. I look forward to seeing where they will go not only in the program, but in life!

And spring is finally-sort-of here! Tim and I opened the Veranda and while some nights we might still need the heat, we decided NO WAY! Fuck you gas company in April! Maybe it's because despite the off and on chilliness, our neighborhood is beautiful this time of year and we are seduced by thoughts of spring. Daffodils and tulips, budding hastas and budding trees, green grass and the promise of warmth - enough to make you take your clothes off! I'm dying to run with Wilson in Frick Park, but we've had a lot of rain the past 3 weeks, my back is finally on the mend and I just invested in my dogs beauty - I got him (expensively and wildly rasta leg necessarily) groomed! So, I'm selfishly hiding out for more potentially clean dog park days, holding off on letting him splash, dig and frolick in the mud puddles, which stain his fur and feet and it stinks, and from letting him roll in what I presume to be dead animals in the grossest depths of the woods until tomorrow, off-leash, until Sunday - the first day of May.

Finally, the end April means I can officially count off the days, pretending I have six fingers on each hand RIGHT NOW, (this reminds of an old SNL commercial sketch) until I reconnect with my future husband - you may know him as Klaus Von Klaus. Rendezvous destination? NO, not Gdansk, or Prague, or Belarus...we're going to rendezvous in L.A. I'll send you a postcard with the details of our misadventures.

Baby Old Lady Kitty came home and I remember being 16

My little 17 years young old lady cat, a respectable if not a totally smelly pillar of yucky mucous, sophistication and adventure, took off last week Wednesday and was returned home this Monday evening by 3 sweet and kind little girls up the street. I want to kiss and hug these kids so bad right now. After days of searching, posting ads on Craigslist, putting flyers up around the neighborhood and overall prayers to the universe, Britches, aka Dragon Toes, Britchy, Stinky Britches, Grandma, Bwitch, is safe at home, and wearing a collar with her name and my phone number on it. The veranda from where she escaped is barricaded in an ugly way, but cat-proofed nonetheless. I want to make sure this 6 lb feline equipped with full-on liver failure and fearlessness holds on to what I'm certain is likely the last life she has in her tattered bag that once held 9.

Now, I'm not quite sure if Britches is 17 -- I actually think she is older since I have no idea her date of birth or from whence she came. I suspect she came from Long's Farm, which was right next to our subdivision in Commerce Township, where I lived from 16 until 19 with my then very drunken father, who said one day "Who's ugly grey cat is that?" My sister Katherine and I replied that we didn't know, and he said, "Well, she's yours now, I've been feeding her for weeks."

And that's how simple it was and it came to be that Britches would live a life of romance, recklessness, adventure, drama and happiness and travel along my side. From the farms of Commerce, to the indoor day-spa of dad's house, to the shithole apartments in Detroit, to the nice places in Detroit too, to Richmond and now on to Pittsburgh, Britches and I were only apart for one year in all this time, during which time sister Katherine, who lived next door, housed Britchy with Fifi as I felt I needed some time to be cat-free in my tiny studio apartment.. No less than 6 months later, I find Iago, twinkie-sized and scared shitless, screaming, hungry, he fit in the palm of my hand, in a nasty dumpster on Prentis and then 2 weeks later I adopted little teeny Jupiter, who is now a bully and a pig-cat, weighing in at kitty-sumo level of 21 lbs. And for all his love for humans, he is the alpha-male, he is the cat version of Eric Cartman. So, I brought Britchy back home with home and it's where she's been ever since. The boys, 12 this summer, know she is the Queen of the Castle.

Britches is also a friend to Wilson as much as she is a friend to humans and cats alike. As opposed to Iago and Jupiter, she likes Wilson, I dare say she loves him. It's part of her fearlessness, her friendliness, her willingness to accept and be part of the pack that makes her so special to me. He likes her too, he's not afraid of her like he is Jupiter, she doesn't taunt him, attack him, back him into corners, box his nose with her paws. She doesn't mind sharing space on my bed with him. (One mean look from Jupiter sends Wilson cowering, but don't tell anyone what a puss he is when it comes to pussy).

Her absence was heartbreaking. At worst I thought she'd run away to die - this liver failure is real, her senility is real, her craziness is real, death seems real. At best, I figured someone might have mistaken her for a kitten and decided to keep her. My ads were very clear, she is not a kitten! She is an old lady, the Betty White of cats! But in this absence I began to think of things I might have carried with me in my life as long or longer than her.

My name, for one. Some photos. A Stephen King book or two. And a pair of black Converse All-Stars I wore in high school and still have and that actually don't smell bad. What do you have from 17 years ago? From the time you were 16? It's a strange way to think about life, and death, and loss of not only the things and materials you love, but the living, breathing, loving creatures that grace us with their presence. I've spent half my life with this animal, this harbinger of sweetness and effection, and snot rockets the size of rockets, the color of electric green algae. I've spent what, thousands? of dollars on her food, litter, health care - including 2 surgeries to have her rotten teeth removed, which rendered her desensitized to treats, tuna juice, cheese, or any other delicacies other than her constant need for bowls full of her one and only culinary delight in this world -- original blue bag Purina Cat Chow.

Britches is my girl in my life filled with boys. Of all the boys and things and places and pieces of myself that I've loved and lost and changed and grown out of along the way, Britches has been with me, sleeping on my head, purring in my ear, looking at me with her beautiful huge green eyes, her Pixie Bob petiteness, with a devotion and care that keeps me humble, happy and human.

Welcome home little old crazy lady cat. I love you so much.

A Friday Toast

Jameson Irish Whiskey is delicious, but did you know it is even more so with Pellegrino? As I sip on the last of the economy-sized gallon bottle of whiskey I bought just in case I go broke, feet up on the lovely veranda in my rustic-urban, shabby-chic flat, a gorgeous Friday evening in June winds down as do the pennies I've scraped up over the years and the student loan funds I have to start paying back in August. Yes, my tastes are refined, my palate luxurious on Irish booze and Italian water, but my accounts are empty. Thankfully I have my professional babysitting skills to rely upon!

So cheers, let's toast this Friday evening, a night of KT hanging in PGH, a rare Friday night off from aforementioned second career path, reflecting because that seems to be the theme of the day, to only celebratory occasions with class, sexiness and true joie de vivre!

I passed my comps, ahem, high passed.
Two essays + 3 days + 32 pages of writing and bibliography = One crazy lady.

Vacationed in Detroit. Except for Heather, I spent more time with more friends and family than all of last summer? The list: Heather, Greg, Zoe, Susan, Peter, Hernan, Natalia, their 3 cool NYC friends, Colton, Marianne, Leia, Klipper, Vaupel, Spivak and Spivak, Selmin, Carlson and Brandy, the regulars at Jumbo's, Allan, Beth, Sandy, Dave, Faina, Bridget, Jenny, the Cass folk at Beth's BBQ, Mom, Buddy, Katherine, Grant, Tobie, Kim and TC, Dad, Nancy, Winsome, Parker, Gunther, Matt, Meshawn, The Detroit Tigers, and host of familiar faces and places and smells and spells. Awesome.

Next, it was Slim and Kim, Episode Number 2. This time no spinning couches, but Greg having to get tough with a guy named Christy (for real) who wouldn't stop hitting on me at Brillobox. My lady-crush from the InSeams was there with pomped out bangs. I think I have a crush on her not because she's all hot, but because she sings in a fun band and plays guitar, and does so with such a calm cuteness and mellow ass-kicking-ness -- I think it's more of an admiration than a crush -- touching on my dreams of being in a similar band but settling for karaoke.

I have a new housemate too! Tim! After months of deliberation, hemming and hawing so much in that 2nd bedroom that I never got a fucking thing done in that 2nd bedroom, I made the decision to rent the second bedroom. The 101 Dalmations room. I moved all my shit out of there - all 1000 books, 200 records, 4 bookcases, huge Ikea desk and million other boxes of my life into different areas of the house -- by myself!!! Oh holy soreness the next day! Looks amazing, a complete transformation of my living/working space, with room to spare. Then on a whim I looked on the rooms/housing wanted section of CR and found an ad that I liked from someone who sounded not only like fun, but responsible, professional and easy-going and MALE, wrote my own ad and sent it to this person. Why male: because chicks are crazy. Then we met for coffee and lunch and hit it off really well. How well do you ask? Well, Wilson humped his leg and he didn't freak out! So Tim moved in last week sans furniture, which unbelievably still hasn't arrived. Making the best of it all, he's got a cozy space on my couch, covered nightly in cat-love and dog visits, until his life magically appears at our doorstop, date as yet unknown. But the 101 Dalmations are history, the room painted Midday Mocha with Chocolate trim -- a real man zone! Even inspired me to put a fresh coat of paint on both sides of the bowling lane length hallway in our railcar apartment. Place feels like home.

So while the Jameson thins out and the dining room window leaks something most foul, putrid and awful and some bill somewhere is late, pending, hounding me, I fondly toast again to Pittsburgh. I discard those few ugly moments when I regret moving. I don't blame Pittsburgh, I don't blame anyone for the weird rut and fact is, I love it here. We love it here, myself and my 4 kids. I live in a beautiful neighborhood, I can catch the bus anywhere, I am solo and single and there are many prospects, thanks to friends like Kathryn and Jeremy and my own strengths and marketability. Not to mention the least of which being I simply finish my PhD. Simply. Finish. My PhD. Simple.

2 months in Pittsburgh

I'm sitting here at my new Ikea desk in my 101 Dalmations border adorned office, looking nothing like the young girl in this photos, puffy-faced from mucus and phlegm and blowing my nose for 3 days. Black hair, long sweater, slipper socks -- drinking delicious hot black coffee with my feet resting warmly on my dog. I am, as usual, alone in my space (which is why I have no reason to change out of my bell-bottom sweat pants).

Today is my 2 month anniversary since I moved to Pittsburgh and I am content despite the constant state of varying illnesses and varying degrees of productivity I've experienced over the few short months here. Winter has been hard and brought all kinds of unexpected vermin, both human and single-celled, into my life and no doubt, hanging out with toddlers, as much as I enjoy it, has exposed me to some of the nastiest breeds of germs via snot and projectile coughing. I've been officially sick for this 3rd bout of illness since Thursday, coming down with a runny nose and chest congestion during the 2+ hour version of Sam Shepherd's Buried Child, in a theatre with broken heat, as in blasting way too much hot air down my already constricted lungs. I was asphyxiating just at the climax of the play, when the horror's of the family's secrets of lies and incest are revealed, just as poor Dodge dies in the corner and Vince succumbs to the family madness. All I could think was, I'm going to die, right here, right now too. I'm suffocating on my own snot and the metaphor of the American family.

I've made some new friends though. Cindy. Craig. Friends from Point Park. Kat's friends are wonderful and warm and welcoming, and I look forward to my upcoming visitors from Detroit -- you know who you are! I had a ton of fun yesterday going through my photo albums and scanning old pictures into facebook, though this too was a solitary act of arbitrary nothingness. Because I do spend a lot of time shut in to my space, more than ever before, bumbling, procrastinating, shuffling around like an old lady. I don't know if it's simply because I've been so sick all the time or because I'm working through some serious emotional trauma still lingering from the past few years of never-ending bullshit in my personal and professional life. So here I am, I moved, I'm living alone and loving it. Am I productive? Not really. Am I working on many things? All at once. Am I happy. Most certainly. The point is not happiness though, which is generally fleeting and ephemeral, I need to start a project and finish it - I need permanence, security, closure on so many things. Specifically, I need to annotate these goddamned sources for my Oral Exam and Prospectus the way I used to write a lit review for every other stupid paper I wrote for college. I need to finish painting my apartment, especially the very scary and uninviting front door. I need to get my office truly unpacked and prepped as my writing and discovery lab. All this and more...

I do find that my ever-evolving relationship with CPW to be one of the most rewarding facets of my life, something so unpredictable, so unplanned, so easy and wonderful and precious. The emotional landscape between us covers much terrain, from blue skies and sunsets over water to rainy days and muddy fields to Snowmaggedan, literally! I'm convinced that I am better person with him in my life. He's my best friend, my "manpanion," as Kat likes to say. I think we'll get married one day.

But right now, I need to fuel up on fluids, eat a healthy breakfast, stay strong and focused, try to get some work done despite my clogged ears making my head feel like it's being squeezed in a vice. I lost out on some good babysitting money this weekend because of being sick, I missed two great rock shows with Craig as well. But I did have a helpful and thoughtful caretaker and indulged in the first 4 episodes of Dollhouse and watched I Love You, Man. It was fun watching Rudd with Rudd's doppelganger.

So today, I reflect and will take notes on what I want to accomplish in the next few months while I am still woefully underemployed and have the time to be successful and hammer on my PhD requirements. When I go full-time in the fall, I may not be so fortunate to have all these sick days and days of leisure. I must be productive, it's why I moved here, first and foremost -- so I need to take these old images of myself, composite them into a big ball called NOW, plant it firmly in the ground and take the fuck off! Ok, GO KT!

First Day of School

I love teaching film and video production. Period. I f'n LOVE it. Especially the Intro courses, where there's limits and parameters and wide-eyed freshmen and sophomores who hang on to every word and actually listen to you.

I started my first day of teaching Production I at Point Park University in downtown Pittsburgh today and it was awesome. Working once again in a truly dedicated and equipped filmmaking program is a breath of fresh air. Not that I hated working over in Mass Comm/Broadcast Journalism at VCU, but it was like hanging out with the not as handsome cousin of my true love interest.

This is the reason I pursued this pesky terminal degree, this PhD, this (as my friend Sascha hilariously refers to it) Doctor of Nothing. For in the end, it's a full time faculty position in a film and media arts program that I want and desire. It is my goal, my career dream, as the protagonist of my own flawed life. It is my controlling idea, my driving force. The PhD and all the hoops to jump through are merely simpleton antagonists standing in the way, but not for long, of achieving these goals. Make no mistake, I haven't been in college for 14 years because I love research...I don't. I love cinema. I love cameras. I love story. I love sharing what I know with eager minds and open hearts.

Best part, the folks I work with are friendly, helpful and cheery! My co-Instructor (yes, I team teach the class plus we have a TA!) has been wonderful in showing me the ropes and making sure all the bases are covered. And, he's Hungarian! I know every school and program has it's quirks and undersides, but I'm optimistic as usual that this is going to be a really rewarding and perhaps long-term place for me. I feel comfortable and relaxed here, the atmosphere is serious but fun. Kind of like me!

And the building where the Cinema and Digital Arts program lives is absolutely stunning. There's no way, no matter how foul your mood is in the morning or how hungover or tired you might be, that you can't feel a sense of being surrounded by beauty when you walk into this place and simply feel good. The building used to be an old bank, so it's opulent, spacious, covered in columns and huge windows and marble. Ornate and detailed, there's even a vault converted into a little lounge in the basement. Working right downtown is fantastic too...as if I needed one more excuse to let myself get lost in the city.

Sometimes I want to cry because for the first time in years I am happy. I feel real happiness, peace and calm in my busy, hectic, crazy, silly life. Then I cut that out and laugh and smile because I did this, I made this happiness happen. No one did it for me. But for those of you that supported, helped or believed in me along the way, I thank you. This happy, smiling, crying, laughing teacher and almost doctor, thanks you.