kate+speaks

I’ve shared this with a few people, its a reoccurring dream I seem to get every so often.

I woke up in a panic at 7am this morning anxious as hell because I was dreaming, scenario: I finally went to math class (that I always happen to cut) and a major amount of homework was due that class period. So for some reason adrenaline starts flowing and I panic, which is then when I wake up and remind myself that I have made it through school.

Fuck.

I hate that dream. Sometimes its history class, whatever class it is I’m always messing up and cutting, only to show up on days where major assignments worth high percentages of my grade is due.

I’m so over school, thank goodness.

Dear Folks,

I apologize for not having much to write within the past few weeks. I won’t lie, I just haven’t had the energy to write a good one, or write something random.

So what’s new and what’s good?

_ Splurged on Kanye tickets for his second round to SJ, got lucky and ended up with 4 floor seats
_ I have been on three interviews to either move up or sideways in my career, and I still haven’t landed a stable gig. I’m good for another month at Lunar, contract ends on May 30th. I’m just trying my best to transition from one job to the next. I have another interview on Thursday, please wish me luck, or keep me in any religious conversations you may have with greater beings.
_ Chopped off all the hair I was so eager to grow for the past year and a half. Every once in a while I seem to think I could do with long hair, NOPE–NEVER, why do I always forget? I some how managed to decide that an A-line cut is a new me.
_ Dropped dollars at MAC to have a very nice gay man listen to my love story and get a lesson in applying fake lashes and new eyeshadow. I need them Saturday for our engagement photo session, I knew I didn’t need to buy name-brand lashes, but I needed the lesson first hand.
_ Every springtime I somehow invest a ton of cash or plastic in reinventing myself as a woman, it gets so very expensive.
_ I triumphed and prepared shrimp sinigang perfectly earlier tonight, with the help from Pops and a quick lesson over the phone. Yeah, yeah, I know, sinigang is easy. Its baby steps.
_ Jeff and I slept in the Sacramento house on Friday night. Although it wasn’t that long ago where we called that place home, we both feel our time there is over. It always saddens me when we’re there. It used to be such a comforting place, and now its just full of times of the past.
_ Jeff turns 25 next Wednesday. Its a big one. If I could only explain what my 15 year old self expected of me this year, it would be interesting. 25 is a benchmark for me, so I guess I feel its a benchmark for everyone. Jeff doesn’t feel the same, probably because he forgets how old he actually is most of the time.

Dear SF Design Industry,

My name is Catherine Reyes and I have a degree in Graphic Design. I am creative and I must say–I’ve been told I have a great personality. I also have excellent taste in music. I can make beautiful things when the reasons are right and the time is appropriate.

PLEASE GIVE ME A JOB.

Thanks in advance,

Catherine Reyes
www.offbeatscience.com

I am becoming one of those women who constantly mention their moms. I reference her way more than I probably should.

My mom is the reason I do not particularly enjoy Filipino food, and at the same time she is the reason why I love food so much.

My mom knows she isn’t a good cook because she doesn’t like to cook. I’ll tell you one thing though, when I was growing up and on those rare–SUPER RARE days–where she would make kare kare (peanut butter oxtail stew, SHUT UP–you have no idea, its good) she would knock that shit out of the park, it was so good. I think the last time she made that I was in middle or high school, no idea.

A thousand or so Filipino kids will tell you that their mom is the best cook ever, I’m surrounded by Kapangpangans (Filipinos from Pampanga, Jeff included), and all their moms, grandmoms, aunties, and EVEN their dads are super freaking great cooks. My mom–no way, she doesn’t like salt, she doesn’t like fat, she doesn’t like sugar, she doesn’t like heat, she doesn’t like spice, she doesn’t like anything that will add richness or flavor, thats just how she is. SHE EATS SO SUPER F_CKING BLAND IT HURTS ME. My family will go out to eat and she takes two bites and just watches us for most of the time, she does not do ethnic at all. And despite all living underneath the same household as my mom the rest of my family has pretty adventurous palettes, just not her. My pops however, is a pretty darn good cook, but he barely touched the stove.

With that said, I could never really appreciate tasty Filipino food on a full time basis, anything that was even remotely tasty my mom would threaten my sister and I with: “Ehh, thats enough, you might get used to it, you might get fat.” Of course she said this all in tagalog and if you asked me I could say this in native tongue just because she constantly repeats her nagging comments, even to this day. My dad would then tell her it was ok and we could eat as much as we wanted, but then she’d step back in and tell him we might get fat. I guess my mom was adamant about not having fat girls… I knew she always liked us skinny, but seriously, the deprivation all those years!

I never learned how to cook Filipino food, but I get verbal lessons from my dad when ever I ask him how to prepare certain food. He’s pretty accurate and shortens the steps without compromising the food. I never ask my mom, by the way, she knows…. she knows she’s a wack ass cook, so for those of you who think I’m talking crap about my moms, I’m not. I’m just speaking the truth.

AND it is the truth…

I’m not joking. I really want to be good at this:

I’ve always sucked at acting, its an embarrassing attempt whenever the need arises. FYI I also really suck at LYING. However, I really think I could be a good mime. I’ve tried looking for classes, but no go… San Francisco does weird ass shit to you, its in the water… STILL, I’ve been weird my whole life, maybe you just didn’t know.

I absolutely hate my SF gym with a deep passion. I have managed to get out there a few times a week since January, but I can’t fucking stand it any longer. Its so damn crowded, it stinks because people stink (think mildew and bad B.O.), and people are always in your way, or you are in their way. I HATE THE PLACE.

Its one of those things where you start to think about it–then you start to despise it–then you just can’t go anymore and you avoid it. I have also become this way about 12:30 mass at St. John in Milpitas. I will no longer go, because there is a freaking creep who has a staring problem and insists on trying to say “hi” whenever I’m in sight.

I just deviated…

Well, what I am trying to say is that I HATE MY GYM. I’m beginning to think that paying bare bones for what seems like shitty work outs is by no means effective. I’ve gotten desperate and emailed a SUPER EXPENSIVE gym in biking distance from the apt, I get to test it out and tour on Saturday. I have to get into a bathing suit this summer with Hawaii, and I have to get into a wedding dress next July. It seems like a good investment right???

The question is… is it about health or vanity?

Ugh. I admit, its not just about health!

My body feels like I’ve been severely beat up, minus any bruises or evidence. This is the result of stretching like I was 5 years old again this past Wednesday.

Anyways, its FRIDAY, and my boss left early. YEE.

I’m going to dance class straight after work, and we NEED toilet paper at home, and I’ll be home late.

So I stole a roll of tp from work.

I took off my jacket, wrapped it over a roll, went back to my desk, told my friend, and stuffed it into my gym bag.

THATS HOW I DO.

Because Nicolay releases endorphins and because I support the Reign’, where the man and I will enjoy our Friday nite: