New Things Means New Things

I was planning on doing this post exactly a week after I moved into my new place in Santa Barbara,

wait...

Did I mention I got a place in Santa Barbara?

So I got a place in Santa Barbara,

and things around here are going pretty swimmingly.

One of the biggest things I've been noticing is how big changes in one's life can mean changes,

even little ones,

just as well.

So here's a little list of the new things that have come of other new things in my life:

1. Drinking tea, specifically chai tea. My folks are coming down to visit me today and apparently bringing a coffee pot with them, but since then I've been without one and forced to drink tea in the morning, since I'm basically addicted to caffeine now. But it's been yummy! Especially with copious amounts of honey.

2. Tins! I've always claimed that I collect vintage tin boxes, but now I can call myself a true collector as I've gotten one for just about everything from pasta to bracelets to pencils...and the list keeps growing. One of these days I'll have to show off my collection on the blog. It's pretty sick.

3. Barely having time for things like internet, reading, and writing. Not that I place those thing equally in value or anything, but they were definitely healthy parts of my normal day to day diet before. Now I've been so busy with moving and making friends that it's been harder to make time for those things, but I also think that mostly has to do with the fact that I have totally lost my home routine and I'm still trying to find one here/have the time of my life living on my own in this great city for a summer. I mean, I understand the importance of staying focused, but writers need to live too, if only a little.

4. Visiting the THREE lovely independent bookstores here: Chaucer's, The Book Den, and Granada Books. I've been to them all and bought books and they're all fabulous! Santa Barbara definitely has a great literary community. Hopefully somewhere down the road I'll be able to get a job with one of them.

5. Speaking of literary community, there's also a great library here, which leads me to the next new thing. I finally got a library card! Shocking that I didn't have one before, right? Well, moving all my books down here has definitely proven difficult (I still haven't gotten them all in here!) and I'll have to go through the same thing down the road when I move after graduating from the city college here. So I'll definitely be using my library more often...and buying only the ones I read that I love or the sequels to books that I'm really excited about...like Maggie Stiefvater's The Dream Thieves coming out in a few months!!!

6. I got an iPhone! I've still been figuring it out, but it's going pretty well. I'm still pretty sure that I won't be on it all the time; I've never been good with staying attached to my phones, but this one is definitely going to be my favorite phone, I can tell. Oh hey, I got an instagram. I think I accidentally got two somehow, but if you'd like to follow look up thekateriransom.

7. Having my own space! This definitely means that I have my own bookshelves as well. I'll have to post pics soon, once I get them all here, that is.

8. Well, you knew this was coming, though I actually haven't visited as much as I'd like to...

but anyway,

THERE'S THE BEACH!!!!

Charge the Beach

We'll go charge the beach

We'll go Run, Run, Run,

over every little piece of shell

crunchy, soft,

caught in the curls on our head

between the prickle of our eyelashes

We'll go splash in the spike of the waves

hop-scotch over white froth

mouths hungry, peppered with salt

take one more step

sand falls from beneath you

froth gurgles, churns, turns back to you
swallows up your toes, cold

sun breaks through what's left of you

wind pulls you back together again

We'll go charge the beach

We'll go yell at the horizon

Beat the waves to the swallowing

Swallow it up ourselves

Drink, Drink, Drink

Now we are the same

Now we can lie down

Now we can stay

Those Who Dance at the Bottom of the Hill

So today I have a story for you all.

I have just moved down to Camarillo, CA and have been getting acclimated pretty well down here. I've been moving into my room, moving my stuff down from Modesto, getting ready to move into a new place in Santa Barbara (more on that later), and being quite successful in making The Biologist's cat, Henry, love me. I've also been doing my best to get in the habit of staying in shape, being that I'm no longer taking dance class and rehearsal six days a week. 

My grandpa, R2's, place is on a steep hill and there's a lovely street that goes down hill, past some large and lovely houses, and straightens out with a gorgeous view of the valley and sometimes, if its not too foggy or smoggy, the not-too-distant coast. It also ends in a little, quiet court, partly shaded by trees, where I've been doing some dancer things to help stay in dancer shape...sort of.

I've done this a fair few times, made some nice conversation with neighbors, stayed in pretty good shape too. The other day, however, something interesting happened at the bottom of that hill, and it got me going on this whole inner-dialogue, which had to do a lot with writing, hence the reason why I'm sharing it with you today.

So I'm turning the corner to the bottom of this hill. The June fog is hanging somewhat sickly in the air. The wind feels slightly sharp against my cold skin, and I know I've got a steep hill to climb back up again.

But as I'm working my way down, I begin to hear something truly stunning. It's piano music, a piece I've danced to before in a hot, sticky, cramped studio once upon a time...not too long ago. 

And immediately, the street around me changes in the only way an inspiring piece of music can do. I wasn't about to work out, I was about to dance. By that time, I figured one of the houses not too far up was playing the music, either by instrument or recording I didn't know, but it didn't matter. I got to the bottom of the hill and became a dancer, even though I was in a sweat shirt and running shoes. No one could see me. I was alone. Just me and the music. And it was wonderful.

So the reason I bring this up. 

It's not specifically because of my side of the story but because of the music player's side. Because perhaps that person, whether they were playing it themselves or not, didn't know that there was a girl, who was new to the area, getting ready to take on the big, open world by herself, taking a moment to dance to the music at the bottom of the hill.

They didn't know it and yet their music was inspiring someone.

I think writers should be the same way. So many of us have something musical inside, whether it be with notes, or colors on paper, or words on a computer screen, but we doubt whether those personal things should be shared with the world. Who is watching? Who is listening? Who cares?

I wonder if that person in that big, beautiful, white house knew that I was even down there, that there was someone else enjoying their morning in a similar, yet different, way. 

So next time you're busting through that impossible word count or fretting about sending your baby out into the world for the first time, remember this story as proof.

You shouldn't hide the music that's within you

because you never know who might be dancing to it way down at the bottom of the hill.