Instantly gramful, my friends

That odd moment when you realize that you've had more conversations with your Instagram friends in a day than you have had with your real life friends in two weeks.

I suppose Instagram is where extreme talents and interests unite.

I find myself thinking, "Gosh, if I ever went to Vancouver I'd want to hang out with you."

I also find myself slightly offended if ever my usual followers don't like any of my photos for days -- I suppose that we all go on vacation -- but my kindred-spirited friends mustn't disappear for too long! I start to worry!

I'd like to know the success rate of Instagram engagements.

Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, or simply medical expenses stress-free

I have been debating for quite some time now (after a few life adjustments and changes) to which political party I offered support, and it wasn't until I was attempting to fall asleep one night that a revelation of my favors developed.

You see, I've got a slight heart condition that I believe to be worsening; however, I quickly deny my belief upon realization that I simply can't afford the medical bill to cover further studies of my ailment. Sure, my insurance will cover a good bit, and there's also a good bit I'd still have to offer up. A good bit my slightly above minimum wage salary and no additional expenses whatsoever lifestyle can afford.

You see, I just can't afford my curiosity.

I've experienced the private sector of socialized healthcare while studying in Argentina, and I'd have to say that while I initially paid a lump sum, every medical expense thereafter was accounted for, and hope could be found, no matter how serious the problem or procedure.


I will recall this thought upon the next elections.

For now, I am still not for Partido "K."

Love is in this cold front, somewhere

Tis the season to be engaged, graduated, and newly-married! As I genuinely congratulate and am happy for my friends and Facebook acquaintances, COME ON!!

I still have high-school acne, yet alone I can't even begin to be hopeful in finding my mate before my child-bearing days are over!

As I hide my hideous face in my unemployed hole, grateful that not a soul in my city has bothered to request my presence.

My daily activities include rabbit-chasing on Wikipedia with the original search as an 11th century French Chief of State.

I might venture to the museum to stare at the same painting for an hour at a time.

So, congratulations in one big greeting card!

I'll be on Pinterest re-pinning everything you all have already checked off your lists of things to do for this year: wear flannel, find a decent man, celebrate Thanksgiving, get engaged, graduate from college, get married, and celebrate Christmas.

Happy New Years, y'all. I'm ready.

Thanks for the fish

I would like to express my gratitude for all of the gifts I have been gifted over the years. 

Seriously, I have not thrown a thing away! Call me a pack rat or a hoarder, your gift has gone to no waste, my friends. 

I have never bought a single scarf or necklace or pair of earrings for myself -- except for the few souvenirs I picked up for myself in Argentina, and now I am the owner of 17 scarves and a hefty and heavy box of jewelry. 

Even though I have enough jewelry, I can never have too much, so don't hold back if you all forgot my 21st birthday this year besides three family friends or this upcoming Christmas.

So yes, I have a lot, and yes I sound completely materialistic right now, but it is because of you all anyways. I've tried to be a minimalist, but I can never be rude and turn down a gift. 

I should really just come out and tell people what I would like instead of leaving my sense of fashion up to the public, but what I really want is the usual jar of Kalamata Olives and a few odd Ayn Rand and Virginia Woolf books from Half Price that I've had my eye on since last week. Sorry my life is so simple to me. 

Thanks for giving this hopelessly fashion less gal some fashion sense. 

Also, I have kept every card that has ever been given to me -- all of the cards that are more than a pre-printed Hallmark verse with a mere signature at the bottom. Seriously, your kind words go farther than your autograph. 

And if you can manage to send me words without a gift, then bless you - you've discovered my soul. 

God Save the Queen

My mom yelled "Katie, Katieeeeee" from the end of the house. 

I lept from my warm, sunny reading repose and ran to the TV room where she was on the phone and holding the TV remote in the other hand. 

I honestly thought that The Queen had died. Why else would my mom be on the phone to her British friend while trying to get the TV to work? 

And then I realized that she wanted me to record House. 

The Queen is alive, have no fear, peasants. 

Hogar is whenever I'm with you... Al, AR

I am home. I am also in my house. The Spanish language has two words for home/house. Casa being the word for the structure itself, and hogar being the word for the closeness one would associate with the structure or even a place or country. 

I am currently in my casa, and I am also in my hogar with my loving family. 

California has bears!

"Oh, I'd hate to live up north! And I'd hate to live in California!" Exclaims my mom. 

Why? 

"Because of the bears! California has bears!"

Stranded

So you know those people who are stranded in the DFW airport in Texas. Yes, that's me right now. Except I'm not stranded in that I can't get a flight out - it's more like we can't drive anywhere. 

Shiver shiver with my torn tango sheet music. Dem TSA. 

Uses of Latin: airport bathroom encounters

My flight had been rerouted and canceled, again. I ran into the old woman in the bathroom, the lady who had been on my previous flight, and she exclaimed, "God willing we get through to Dallas!" with which I reponded "Yes, Deo Volente indeed!" 

A mother and her teenage daughter from Pinterest summer world gave my disheveled traveler appearance a look of disapproval as they skipped washing their hands to fix their hair. 

I again nodded a smile to the elderly woman and proceeded to wash my hands for an extra five seconds to rub it in -- the soap I mean, of course. 

Raspberry Thief

You may call me the Raspberry Thief, every morning before breakfast I eat

On my fingertips, you must seek, 

red-handed evidence that it is indeed, me.

Try to stop me if you can, 

You'll have to lick my fingertips first 

before I carry out my scrumptious plan.  

But indulge me if you want, for I am still the Raspberry Thief! 

Feo-struck

I was walking down a quaint street in Santiago, Chile, perusing the open-air book fair, and I lingered for just a moment too long to find myself struck in the face by two metal poles that were holding up the makeshift tent. I was stunned. And three men rushed over to remove the tent from my face. I put my sun glasses back on my face and walked away. A man at one of the book stalls asked me if my face was alright as I was passing by. I replied in Spanish, "It's ugly, but I'm okay." He was quite confused by my reply, not realizing that he had intruded my extentializing thoughts. I gave a genuine smile in appreciation for his concern, and then I scampered off in fear of any more commotion that could evoke a panic of tears. 

Goodbye, open-aired book fair. 

So, I do speak Castellano

I was speaking to a few Chileans in the best hostel in Santiago, Chile and was told that I had an accent -- "an American accent?" I asked. No, an Argentine. I proceeded to say that I had been studying there for the past four months, and they said "hence, the accent."

Not like I can understand half of the Chileans. Take me back to Argentina where you can understand Castellano. 

And yes, our 20 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires, Argentina to Santiago, Chile only took 22 hours.