Veracity at it's finest...

I despise vegetables.

Of all the vegetables in the world, I would prefer to only eat lettuce (with copious amounts of tasty dressing), carrots, broccoli, and mushrooms. God help you and yours if you bring me a green bean and say, Eat...

When I was only a couple of years old, I fell down the stairs and broke my leg in two places.

I was taking a brownie to my father, who was upstairs recovering from a massive hangover and probably unconscious anyway, and decided to eat it along the way. Greedy little bugger... I had a cast for 7 weeks.

Of course, I don't remember any of this. So, the events leading up to the cast could very well be hear say.

Thus far today, I've tweeted 107 times. Nearly half of those were to Xander, who I was actually IM'ing with at the same time. Do I find this strange? Not in the slightest. It's possible to carry two conversations at once.

Sure, they were with the same person. Semantics.

I actually just nodded off for a moment there. Whoops.

I have a really short fuse at the end of a long cord of patience. My patience levels vary with the person I'm talking to or the project I'm working on. I've found that the more ridiculous a person or project is, the faster my patience is used up. Once it's gone?

Duck and cover.

I have a large vocabulary, intelligence in spades, a sharp tongue, and absolutely no fear of consequence. Volatile? Yes. Watch your back.

That whole last section made me sound a bit like a psycho. I promise, I'm really a nice person.

Just don't fuck with me.

I don't have a ton of time left in my day, so I'm going to end this ramble with one final thought: Third times a charm.

A Walk Through the Notebooks...

Hey there! I'm Kate (or K8 or KT or Katy or... you get the picture). I'll answer to just about anything as long as it isn't derogatory or demeaning. And if you do come at me with such, you'll wish you hadn't. Keep that in mind...

There is so much about me that is just waiting to be discovered. I fear that even a blog of concentrated magnitude could do nothing more than simply scratch the surface of my life, who I am and what I stand for.

How does one explain the inner-workings of themselves fully, without fear of rejection, persecution, hurt, destruction?

When does one draw the line and say, that's too much, too private, nothing I want you to know?

What words can be used to explain the driving force behind ones creative outlets, religious avenues, mundane activites, sleeping habits?

Where will the emotions bubble forth from when ones life is falling apart and there's no one to turn to, except this open space of free-thinking?

Who is going to read the words that were born of countless dreams, endless sacrifices, and truly care about the writer?

I write because it's in my soul. Writing is the one constant in my life, the one thing that has never turned its back on me, even when I turned my back on it many times.

Writing is forgiving.

It's breathtaking.

It's heartbreaking.

It's home.

This space is for me. And me alone.

Nonetheless, you're free to follow.