Not Intent On Arriving

Not Intent On Arriving

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Oops I did it again…

Having been a resident of Denver for a little over a month now it would only make sense that I have broken almost everything in my apartment. Following is a list of things that I have damaged. With each new thing that I break my mother instructs me to call and place a work order, but as I have now been locked out of my apartment on numerous occasions, I don’t really want to be “that girl.” They’re going to think I’m off my rocker. So instead I’ll just let everything around me crumble… 

1. On Day One, as I was pulling down the blinds to my window I detached the rope leaving the blinds fully released with no way of retracting to the top to let in the beautiful sunlight that shines 360 days of the year here. 

2. The dishwasher. To this, I protest was not my fault but clearly a mechanical problem that I have no control over. The dishwasher left my living room and kitchen flooded. Since I have no mop, I resorted to more rolls of paper towels than I care to admit. 

3. My dresser drawer. I simply do not know my own strength. 

4. My picture frame. I underestimated the weight and hung it up on nails that simply could not manage the task of keeping my friends held high. 

5. One of the legs on my bed. Right now we’re just working on a balancing act. I pray every night that I don’t wake up collapsed on the floor. 

6. I broke one of the latches off of the window so now that never fully closes. 

And I think that may be it for now… I don’t know if I should really be held accountable for all of these damages or really we should be blaming the shotty craftsmanship of my apartment unit. 

Katie Bayne - Coming to destroy a city near you ;) 

Filed under denver clumsy apartments

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Rocky Mountain High

I have now officially been a member of the Denver community for two weeks. Upon arrival, I spent the first week with my aunt, uncle, and mother. Following the time with my family, I proceeded to meaningless orientations (except for the one specific to my program) surrounding services I probably, definitely won’t use. Then it was time to actually start class. I had my apprehensions; most specifically concerning workload. There is quite a bit of reading to complete each week. But let’s face it, I have little faith in myself to actually complete, however I am giving a valid effort to do so in these first weeks. Which, I hear are the most formative, so maybe it will stick? 

So, in the first week of class I’ve already learned so much more than I did my entire last semester at Niagara University. Possibly, because I had stopped caring. Or showing up to class. I digress. What’s important here though, is not so much what I have learned in the classroom (which is actually extremely interesting and I love) but what I have learned outside of it. When I had started at NU some four years ago, I learned very painfully, that I do not know how to make friends. When I went to France, I learned that I do not know how to make friends. Now here in Denver, nothing has changed, except that I came with the perfect understanding that I am not a social person. My acceptance of this issue, which I’ve tried to deny through the years, has actually made this transition much smoother. There have been no tears or hissy fits that I needed my mommy. I have come to accept myself for who I am and know that it is going to take me a little bit longer to socialize. 

Other fairly important things I’ve learned thus far: 

1. It’s hard to take deep breaths. They don’t call this the mile high city for nothing. 

2. I cry during every episode of Parenthood. A show I have not been able to stop watching. Partly because of the no friend thing. 

3. I don’t know how to use a dishwasher. 

4. My OCD is worsened when I live alone. 

5. Living alone is scary. 

6. Denver is infamous for human trafficking. In turn, I don’t go out at night. I don’t need to be an Oprah special (yes I intend on making a grand escape and defying all odds). 

7. Siri doesn’t know where the hell anything is. 

8. Having Starbucks adjacent to your apartment building is heavenly. 

Filed under rockies colorado college

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Mothers Know Best — Or at least when it comes to proper footwear

There was a lot of commotion from the last post about my mother, concerning a certain leash that she harnessed me to. Most of this commotion, well really all of it, came from my mother. She would like to state for the record that she did it out of love because she “never wanted to lose me.” Well isn’t that sweet Diane. Except that I had been relegated to the likes of dogs, and come to think of it, this is probably where my gross detestation for man’s best friend began.

Anyway, this isn’t a post to reiterate how absolutely unnecessary it was that I be put on a leash, a short one no less, but one to exonerate my mother. Or at the very least allow her one day of “I told you so.”

After a very trying week, I, on an impulse, bought the very coveted Sperry’s, a practical shoe that goes great with a boat. I had never been sure that they were worth the $85, but as I stood in Lord and Taylor’s feeling lost and confused, it was as if these shoes had descended from the sky with angels singing and lights shining all around. I had to have them. I paraded them around the store feeling as if I could rule the world and drive a speedboat in unbelievable style and flare. It was a done deal. I would later go home to tweet “Impulse buy of the day: Sperry’s. Pillows for my feet.” Little did I know that day how very, very wrong I would be.

On the first day that I wore them, I received a hideous blister. Nevertheless, I was determined to make sure I was getting good use out of these shoes. So, when it came time to decide proper footwear to gallivant through the city with, I decided it needed to be the Sperry’s. My heels already being raw from these shoes, my mom, ever so gently, expressed her concern about me wearing these into the city, a day that would most likely involve a lot of walking. Of course, I protested, and these shoes really did something for the outfit I was wearing. Seeing that her stubborn daughter would not be taking any practical advice, Diane rushed to CVS to buy gel inserts for the heels of the shoe. I placed the gel inserts into my shoes and it was like what blisters?

My day in the city started out fine. I arrived in Penn Station and met up with some friends from school. It was the beginning of a beautiful story. However, I began to realize quite quickly, that my feet were not going to make it. As we walked along Chelsea Piers, I glanced down at my feet to notice the gel inserts melting and my shoes filling up with blood. Fortunately, one of my friends had a plethora of bandages with him. I proceeded to use all of them, a stash he had been harboring for about three years. After that, I thought my troubles would be over.

As we made our way up to the Highline, I could feel the leathery grips of the shoes tightening around my heels and the bandages rubbing off. Sperry’s be gone! And off my shoes went. I could not stand for this, literally, any longer. However, once we were off the Highline, it became necessary to strap back on my shoes. I tried to re-bandage myself another time, but much to my dismay that I wouldn’t get me far. I then decided that the appropriate action would be to try to walk on my toes. This is NYC right? Who’s actually going to think I’m strange.

All of the skin on my heels had seemingly evaporated and now were just gaping wounds. My feet were searing with pain and I was sure I was going to have to amputate if I were going to make it through the day. I ended up going with the less bloody option, and ventured into store that was offering free wine tasting. Four glasses of wine later and I wasn’t feeling so bad.

The next morning as I began my trek back from Brooklyn, I realized that death was not far behind. I shuffled through the boroughs, with “Everyday I’m shuffling” blaring in my head, and made it home just barely. In my infinite wisdom, since I had used all of the real medical supplies, I taped paper towels to my heels, but sadly, those deteriorated and little pieces of paper were now stuck to the wounds.  

Three days later, I am still hobbling around, in unbelievable pain. When I look at my Sperry’s, I no longer see happy angels smiling down on me, but the devil maniacally laughing. And yet, I know once my heels heal I will forcibly place the shoes back on my feet because who in their right mind spends that much on shoes anyway?

Until then, mother go ahead and say I told you so, as I continue to drag my helpless body throughout the house.

Filed under mothers shoes new york city sperrys