Christmases Past and Why Growing Up is Hard to Do.

Well, folks, in a few short days I will be making my way back to my parents' house in Tulsa where I will partake in all sorts of Christmasy pleasures. Gatherings of friends and family, finding the perfect gift for each specific person, baking peppermint into everything I can think of, sipping a "Dirty Santa" at my favorite coffee shop: all give immense pleasure which is intensified by the fact that not one thought will be given to school. No. Not one.

However, in looking forward to these rare treats, I cannot help looking back to years past. Years when my mom's family was there, present and accounted for at our house every Christmas Eve. Years when I literally couldn't sleep because I was so excited for the festivities, which would ensue the following day, so I would beg my mom to read The Night Before Christmas to me just one more time. Years when we would make the trek out to Beaver, Pennsylvania for a Christmas Day filled with cousins, aunts and uncles, an abundance of food, and an even greater abundance of hugs and kisses. Someone always got the most ridiculous gift imaginable  - like the watch my dad received from Grandma Kullen one year with Bill Clinton's profile as the face and his growing Pinochio-style nose as the second hand - and the house was filled with laughter and joy and family and adventure.

It is hard to put into words what these Christmas Days entailed fully.  I remember the cold and trudging through the snow to and from the car but I remember it being warm and cozy inside. I remember being forced into my snowboots against my will and in later years being chastised for complaining of cold feet in favor of fashion. I remember playing Connect Four in my grandma's basement and hardly being able to wait to get my hands on whatever new babies there were (there were always new babies at Christmas). Mostly, they all run together into one great memory of being surrounded by the people who loved me most in the world and vice versa.

Now, we still have family Christmas and it is equally wonderful but with those formerly distant, the ones who used to call the house in Beaver every year and talk and the phone would get passed to you long enough to hear what was important, "I love you! Merry Christmas!" Roles have been reversed now and new traditions born. And it is good.

It is odd to think, though, that this will be my last Christmas in college. My last as one of "the kids." This time next year I will be graduating and starting real life and things will become far more complicated. At this point, it is a little hard to know exactly where I fit. In transition, I can only foresee Christmas and life becoming even more hectic. I suppose, this is what I mean when I say that growing up is hard to do. College turns into an awkward phase of in-between and sometimes it seems like things will only get harder. What I do know is that despite the awkwardness, the Light and Life will continue to be present.

Tips for a Homey Christmas Away from Home

Well, folks, the Christmas Season is upon us. The first Advent candles have been lit. The choruses of mankind are singing of peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Meanwhile, college students are beginning "dead week," which, here at Oklahoma State may as well be called "I want to die week"  since it is a time when lackluster professors, devoid of all the aforementioned "Christmas Spirit" (Scrooges if you will), decide that they are going to throw the syllabus out the window and rain down their wrath upon students all over campus. Anyway, the beginning of this season of snowflakes, candycanes, sugarplums, lights, etc. is marked for us by Finals.

While you may pity our poor sleep-deprived souls (we're all about pity, so pity away), I am not here blogging today in an attempt to gain that pity but rather to share some fun college student friendly ways to brighten up your December away from home.

• Thrift. Thrifting is a great way to decorate in general (literally everything you see above was thrifted) but Christmas thrifting/garage saling can happen anytime anywhere. When you're out hunting for thrifty treasure, don't avert your eyes from Christmasish stuff simply because it is the middle of July. It will probably be cheaper out of season, so scoop up that Christmas goodness year round and tuck it away for the appropriate, post-Thanksgiving, time.

• Fill your house/apartment with lots of these ^  Everyone loves peppermint sticks and candy canes. They're inexpensive ($0.98 a box at Walmart), making them the perfect addition to any dorm room, apartment, or house. Also, peppermints may help to stimulate brain function and focus , so grab a couple before you head off to your finals for a little boost!  

• Craft. Crafting gets your creative juices flowing, gives you a chance to get out of study mode for a bit, and allows you to save some cash on decorations and gifts. So pick up that Pinterest craft you've been eyeing and get to work.

Giving Thanks

 1) Christmas came to our apartment
 2) Traditional daddy-daughter breakfast
 3) Makings of an apple pie
 4) Fermented grape goodness that was shared
 5) A lovely aunt
 6) Shelling pecans on Thanksgiving Eve
 7) The Bird
 8) The Feast
 9) Coffee and lipstick: a match made in Thanksgiving heaven
10) Friends being friends
11) Christmas carol station (can't you tell?)
12) The first of the leftovers: Turkey, brie, and cranberry sauce sandwich
13) Bedlam

The Art of Resting

"Rest and be thankful." - William Wordsworth

Rest. It's an elusive concept that seems incredibly desirous in theory, but is rarely attainable in practice.  As a college student, it seems that I am constantly striving for the next weekend, the next break, the end of the semester, when I might possibly attain a brief reprieve from the rat race of university life.  However, as soon as I reach the goal, I am worrying about what work the new week brings: the papers I still have to write, the laundry I have to find time to do, the friends I want to spend time with, the success that I must achieve in all of these areas.  It sometimes feels like a never-ending cycle of working toward but never being fully satisfied with the results.  I am in constant motion: mentally, emotionally, and physically.  Where is the rest and satisfaction that my poor overwhelmed heart so deeply desires???

After much consideration - consideration meaning five semesters worth of exhaustion, emotional break downs, and a self-esteem roller coaster ride  fueled by whatever grades and friends I did (or didn't) have - I decided to endeavor to practice the art of resting.  This is not an easy undertaking. When constantly bombarded by a culture telling you that success only comes through beauty, intelligence, a Masters, PhD, life-consuming career, and maybe a trophy-family stuck somewhere in there between the PhD and career, you begin to believe the mantras like, "You can sleep when you're dead." We college students are often so guilty of buying into these lies in hopes of attaining  our dream of the perfect future - during which there will clearly be ample time for rest, thank you! Sure. - that we drive ourselves right into the ground.

So, in an attempt to truly learn what Rest means, I am taking a break every Sunday.  I know that this concept may not seem so novel, what with the whole idea of the Sabbath being around since the creation of the world and whatnot, but it is a much more difficult discipline than I expected. My desire to over achieve, get ahead, and fill my time is not overcome by simply telling myself, "Don't worry, this is your day off. Chill." As a matter of fact, initially, the break set those impulses into overdrive. But through consistent practice in letting tomorrow worry about itself, the enjoyment of fellowship, and a delight in simply taking a walk or reading a book on a Sunday afternoon (things that I rarely allow myself the opportunity to do during my 26.2 mi. weekly sprint), I am able to truly rest. Although force is sometimes necessary, this Day of Rest prepares me for the coming week, no less full of papers, exams, homework, chores, and social obligations. My heart drinks in Rest and is satisfied.

A Little Inspiration for your Monday

MANIFESTO: THE MAD FARMER LIBERATION FRONT by Wendell Berry Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation with pay. Want more of everything made. Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die. And you will have a window in your head. Not even your future will be a mystery any more. Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer. When they want you to buy something they will call you. When they want you to die for profit they will let you know. So, friends, every day do something that won't compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it. Denounce the government and embrace the flag. Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands. Give your approval to all you cannot understand. Praise ignorance, for what man has not encountered he has not destroyed. Ask the questions that have no answers. Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias. Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold. Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years. Listen to carrion--put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. So long as women do not go cheap for power, please women more than men. Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child? Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth? Go with your love to the fields. Lie down in the shade. Rest your head in her lap. Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts. As soon as the generals and politicos can predict the motions of your mind, lose it. Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn't go. Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice Resurrection.

Copyright Wendell Berry

Contemplations on the Vortex, Which is College

On Wednesday afternoon, I bumped into an old friend in a coffee shop. Sounds pretty normal, right? Well, kind of. This particular friend is one who I had resigned to a very specific role as a character in the drama that was my Freshman year of college, thinking that chances were in favor of us never meeting again this side of heaven (what with him moving to Moldova, joining the Peace Corps, and having traveled half way across the country to come to OSU for graduate school anyway). Suddenly, bludgeoned by the fact that much too much has happened over the last year and a half to catch up in a casual oh-what-a-pleasant-surprise-bumping-into-you-has-been conversation - the coffee shop standard - I fell into quite the contemplative mood.

[Just your average illegal dorm room panini muffin baking]

[Some Freshmen celebrating a Birthday]

I mean, I was the same girl talking to the same guy as when we met a little over two years ago, but I am a completely different Caity Kullen than the one I was then. Somehow, over the a two year period, I ended up being sucked into the Vortex that is University Time. Majors, relationship statuses, and dwelling places have changed a time or two. And I am far wiser and far stupider all at the same time. I have grown out of the How I Met Your Mother watching, the kitchen two-stepping lessons, the afternoon pecan pie baking, the car pranking, the up-all-night-ing, the every Wednesday game nights,  the mass consumption of Marshmallow Mateys (probably to the benefit of my figure as well as my overall health), and the terrifying feeling of facing my first real life failures. 

[Freshmen]

[Sophomores]

Growing up happens through all the fun and adventures you can dream up as a College Freshman. Growing and changing in all of it. I barely recognize that girl trudging up the 11 flights of stairs to her Drummond dorm room, the one sitting on her bed, eating a ham sandwich from 20 Something that she "forgot" she didn't like, the one trying so hard. But I still know her. And from a momentary pause in the Vortex, I think she'll be alright.

[Juniors]

On a much less disgustingly nostalgic note, here's a tip to spice up your brownie baking life from my lovely roommate and friend, THE Miss Laura Rusco:

After making your favorite brownie recipe from scratch (or a box, let's be realistic here), lay peppermint patties atop your chocolatey bliss and let them get all melty and stuff. In order to speed up the process, you can put the brownies back in the still-warm oven for a few minutes.

I promise, your brownies will be a huge hit. At least they were at our girls' night last night!

A Sunday Afternoon Stroll

 

 

Thus concludes a delightful Autumn amble about campus.

The Junior Year Slump

College: it's what every ambitious young woman ought to do, right? Choose what she wants to peruse for the rest of her life at the age of 18, commit the subsequent 4 years to study and maybe "finding herself" along the way, and finally come out with a degree and a bright future in her chosen field where she can prove her equality of skill and intelligence to that of any man. Growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, (the nations 22nd largest city) known as a steel town but truly an academic haven that contains over 20 colleges and universities within its metropolitan area, there never seemed to be any other option. Naturally, education was of utmost importance and a successful career was the epitome of feminist validation. How could I ever question the importance of career, the prestige of a doctorate? Of course I wanted to go to law school and move to D.C.!

Recently, though, those thoughts have been challenged. Five and a half years later, as I study at Oklahoma State University, I find myself questioning the relevance of my education to what I, as a woman, am to do with my life.  The more I talk to my peers, the more I am struck with the reality that, maybe, just maybe, being a mom and a wife isn't as meaningless a task as culture has taught me. Mind. Blown.

This is where the slump comes in. As I realize that I am intended to love and support a husband, nurture children, and keep a home, I can't help but think how DUMB school is. Obviously, education is worth while and as a student, I need to strive for excellence in my current stage of life. But in reality, all I can think about is crafting, cooking, thrifting, how I want to decorate my future home, and  the man that I want to care for more completely. Do you know what gets in the way of all these delicious thoughts? School. Dumb old school. It is like an anvil hanging over my head constantly waiting for me to let down my guard just long enough for it to come crashing down and leave me buried under a debris of broken pencils, torn notebook pages, smashed hard drives, and countless pages of assigned reading. Oh! To be assigned a craft rather than a paper! To read a recipe rather than another short story! I should just give up. But, despite the slumpiness of this slump, I shall continue to endeavor to persevere.

It is at times like these that I wonder what has happened to me, to that little D.C. bound lawyer. I think that she has realized that her ambition, although not incorrectly used as a lawyer in God's Kingdom, can affect people just as much, or more so, when directed toward the equally rigorous tasks of being a loving spouse and mother one day.

I'm Blogging. Wait, What?

For some time now, I have been fascinated by the idea of the Blog. Putting oneself out in the world for all to see. Exposing everything from style, crafty ideas, and recipes to one's personal opinions and snapshots of one's life: as much or as little as you like. Having developed a borderline obsession with others' blogs, I've hemmed and hawed over starting my own. There is a very real and very vocal part of myself that believes blogging to be one of the highest forms of narcissism to spring into existence, yet reading blogs has become my guiltiest guilty pleasure. Talk about hypocrisy. I'm obviously schizophrenic... or something. So, here I sit, writing my first post on a blog that I may or may not keep up, for a class that I am taking on integrating technology in the classroom. This is a test. I don't know where it'll take me, but I'd like to give it a go. What's a little blogging between friends (or multiple personalities), right?