...in November.

But we're celebrating today! And mom made me cookies to take on the plane. And Dad's making omlettes, and they're cooking all my favorite foods for dinner. And cake and mint chocolate chip ice cream! And the sun's out and the dog and I were playing down by the river. And it's beautiful. And tomorrow I go to India. And I'm so excited I think I might explode into a thousand separate pieces of pure happy.

Last night I was nervous. Mom and I were sitting in the hot tub and something about the darkness around crept in, and I told mom I was scared. And she said, "But Kate, you said this is something you've always wanted to do, and you're doing it. So no matter what happens you have that." And she was right - and sometimes words turn everything around.

And I leave tomorrow! But not until I eat all my favorite foods!

kate

p.s. here again is the India blog. Please leave lots of comments (it helps with the lonliness!) http://kategoestoindia.blogspot.com

So I leave on Monday and once I'm in India I'm planning on posting primarily on my new India Blog. I have like 18 different blogs that different people read, so I'm hoping to combine into one - like captain planet. I know, ridiculous to have 18 blogs - exaggeration by the way - but I enjoy being ridiculous. And conspicuous. Or something. :)

Anyways, the new blog is: here! for any and all who want the updates (which will hopefully happen if I don't melt into a panic-sticken puddle in the gutters of Calcutta - henceforth Kolkata - and die a slow miserable death.) Otherwise, I love letter writing, so for the bazillionth time (also an exaggeration), make sure I have your address before I go. Which is soon!

p.s. Condo life is nice. I woke up to a view of the river from my deck and took a shower in the sexiest SEXIEST shower ever (stone floors and slate tiles) Maybe I'll just stay here....

p.s.s. reason 100000008 why I love my mom: there were wild flowers and a note on the table waiting for me when I got here.

First: So my camera is broken, brutally destroyed by the manhandlers at international airports. I need a new one for India - digital, so I can share my pics as I go - and I have absolutely no idea where to look, what brands are good, what megapixaleyshmagoos are good, etc etc. Anyone have any advice and/or cheap deals and/or direction to point me in and/or camera to give me for free!?!

Second: Ikea doesn't suck. I just assumed it did -too much hype. But it totally doesn't, and if I was still working with teenagers (not to mention working in general) I would take an outing there just to run and jump on the carts down the warehouse aisles. Because it's awesome. AND we almost completely furnished Jess and Mat's new place. AND I got six glasses, cutting board, kitchen towels, oven mit, pot holders, funnels, and measuring cups for under ten dollars. Hell yeah Ikea. AND the workers don't suck. Except for the two guys in the "help load your car up" position. In reality, what happens is you (I) lift and load everything while one talks to a bug on his arm and the other rolls a cart back and forth while talking about Disney Land. At some point, they will ask if you want help (this will be in the middle of you slinging a giant rug over your shoulder) - this will be your cue to say, "Yeah, you just take something out of the cart and put it in the truck."

Third: I am a horror-genre genius.

Fourth: Where is my VISA?????

Fifth: War and Peace, page 1,000! Only 386 more to go! Also reading: Eat, Pray, Love

Sixth: I think I might go buy a new backpacking backpack.

Seventh: Why didn't I go to Eagle Creek today? It's so stinking hot.

Eighth: Because 8 is great (and the birthdate of kate), it shall be last, and dedicated to saying the Felix is beautiful and amazing and all days should include babies.


And thus all numbers come to an end.

It's strange. Very strange. And I can't quite get my head around it, try as I have the past weeks. How a person can go from being your closest friend, most intimate partner to be nothing. In a day. But he still exists. I still exist. We still walk through the same city, doing the same things. Only now we are as strangers; unaware, connection severed. I was thinking last night, that even the people in my kung fu class are closer to me now than he is because there is an opening between us. A flow of information a reality of availability. Does that make sense what I'm trying to say?

And all the questions of why aren't going away. I have a hundred possibly answers; that he didn't love me, that I drove him away, that he is too busy guarding a carefully balanced and trepidious world to let any control slip away, etc etc etc - but in the face of all I'm feeling, all answers feel inadequate. And dishonest.

And I never want to feel this way again. To open up and love, I entered into trustingly, naively, and I have discovered it now to be the most terrifying thing imaginable. And I am unsure that I will ever be able to do so again.

Because, moreover, I feel severed down the middle. I wrote a story a few weeks ago (it should debut soon) about a girl who, faced with a decision, was unable to make it and leave as a whole person, and so, quite literally split down the middle. It wasn't my intent to write that when I sat down, but as I did, I recognized it and understood it. For months now, if I am honest, my feelings and my reason have been in direct opposition. And I don't feel like a whole person. Part of me feels strong, and creative, brave, and beautiful, the other half of me is insecure and cowering, licking my wounds in the corner like a scared dog.

I cried to Nate several months ago, that I feel so detached from myself that I'm afraid my friends will not be able to recognize me anymore. That I don't recognize me anymore. Nate smiled and told me that there was still enough of the old kate around that everyone knew and loved. Nate always helps.

In War and Peace the other day (which I am finally absolutely loving!) Pierre had this thought: "If it were not for suffering, a man would know not his limits, would not know himself. The hardest thing (Pierre thought or heard in his dream) is to konw how to unite in one's soul the significance of the whole. To unite the whole?' Pierre said to himself. 'No, not to unite. One cannot unite one's thoughts, but to harness together, harness together."

And so I go to India. Perhaps it is cliche, but perhaps not. (But perhaps yeah :) But just perhaps I will harness myself and the severed halves will reunite. I'm terrified, at times, but I've found for me, sometimes the best way to face your fears is to do the hardest thing possible. When I tell people I'm traveling alone, they keep saying I'm brave. That makes me smile, because it doesn't feel brave, it feels unavoidable.

For example: I hate swimming. I really do. I like creek walking and splashing around lakes. But I hate swimming underwater and I hate swimming for fitness. So I decided one summer to conquer my fear of swimming underwater, and trained to become a lifeguard. It seems silly to have a lifeguard who hates swimming, I admit, but the point is that I trained everyday, and by the end of the summer I passed the test (deep-water rescues and all). And at some point it quite being something I was afraid of, and became something I just did.

And now I face loneliness. And moreover, being alone with myself. Something I used to love so much. I suppose I've addressed it in small ways already without even really knowing it. I moved into a place by myself. "My bubble" as Dena says, which honestly was terrifying (and not an easy decision as those then closest to me could attest). But I'm better for it. And I find myself intensely enjoying it. Still, I need to go further. Then maybe, I will stop dreaming of him every night. And start dreaming of myself again. Wholly independent and beautiful.

I'm stronger than I think I am.

Writing has helped. Even if I post 500 billion times a day and irritate all of you, it helps. Helps to send it out and in that way feel not so alone. Helps to put words on paper and let something else hold the thoughts for a while. And the writing group has truly helped. I am amazed to find inside myself the ability to write and publish a new story each week. I love that everyday I take a shower my thoughts are consumed with, "maybe I should go back and change the lighting in that scene. I want it a bit darker.." and so on.

And so on.

I'm off to day. Here's to making it through another one.

Grand adventure: less than a month and counting...

today is my DEBUT on the Portland Fiction Project website. I'm finally on the author's page and my first story should be up today! Go read it, in all it's wonderful mediocrity! And then tell me wonderful things about it. Website: http://www.deansden.net/portlandfiction/