Where is my mind?

Addictions of the day : Water, The Robot Ate Me, Pedro the Lion, picking at this zit on the right side of my face, guitar tabs, tenor saxophone, thinking about the Summer Camp festival August 6th, and air conditioning.

After hours of pestering my brother, I finally succeeded in getting him to move. A victory in its own! This couldn't've been accomplished without the old fashioned bribery trick, so I took him to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Yay, fun! I'm slightly worried that I enjoyed this movie more than my (almost) 9 year old brother, and all of the other little girls in the theater, but all is well.

Last night I found a concert log I had started earlier in the year. It depresses me to see how I went from two concerts a week to a weak two month break. Unacceptable! Thankfully I have Summer Camp, Decemberists at the Bite, The Notwists and Themselves, The Gossip. . . And most likely several trips to the Ike Box and possibly to Portland. Phew. At least I haven't completely lost my mind.

Speaking of losing my mind, from a boredom induced google search, I traveled back in time to middle school and cleverly typed my name in the search box. Rather than viewing the usual athletic track star Katy Trotter, I came across the real Katy Trotter (as seen here, here, here, here, and here (Okay, yeah, sure, some articles are the same, but they were links, stalkers, liiiinks!. . . )). It's completely reassuring to know that I exist on the internet. This is the link to the Dove site where I'm also featured. Groovy!

I had a long conversation with my poet Uncle Pete earlier today. He's intriguing. He'll hide for months and months and only communicate when he feels it necessary than BAM! Approximately 80 new emails in my inbox of crazy Pete poems. Granted, most of them go straight to the designated "Pete" folder simply because I need a pen, paper, dictionary and a fully working brain to comprehend.

Example:
There's a hand behind the cognizance of two like minded in attraction and that hand will push the cognizance into a mutual position. Could the hand be an overseeing consciousness that in effect manipulates circumstance?

And every so often, I come across one that's off-the-wall kind of fun.
Adolph Levin was one mixed up fella. So mixed up in fact that his neck and head descended right through his torso and out of his anus. The trouble was his head was facing the wrong way so he had to walk backwards which doesn’t make for much speed. He had his pants custom made so as to protect the rest of his privacy and hide the diaper around his neck. The hole between his shoulders supported an earthenware pot of dirt in which a tree was planted. In his will, Adolph asked that he be buried standing up.

My favorite to this day exists on our desktop computer. His rhyming poem about the Planters Peanut guy coming out of his ass. Brilliance.

Back to what I was saying, our conversation earlier consisted of me in the midst of creating a studio for portraits. . . Therefore leading to a discussion about the movie Blow Up. A few hours after getting off the phone, I get an email titled "Katy's soulmate" with this picture of David Hemmings attached. I giggled and oohed for a few minutes before realizing that it is, quite possibly, the most true-est thing I have heard in awhile. Not only is David Hemming's character completely attractive, but he's ALSO a photographer. This got me thinking about how I desperately need to be sucked in to the movie Blow Up and hang out with the asshole photographer. Pronto!

All For Swinging You Around

I, Katy, hereby promise to never again take long walks while wearing Birkenstocks (tm), for three consecutive days.

Hurty ankles aside, let's move on. I suppose now would be a great time to summarize my Tucson trip, but due to many minor distractions that took place (way to go, Sabrina!), I've decided to resort to my standard photo update.Jenn Packer and myself during dinner with the guys on Sunday night. The first night being there was extremely awkward. The Jersey girls were "prim and proper" and a tad more superficial than I was expecting. And the moment the guys walked in, Rory, Isaiah and Mo, the tension was incredibly obvious. At the dinner table, I was stuck right in the middle between the sexual jokes constantly being spouted off on my right versus the automatic "ewws" coming from my left.

Monday night was Carrie and Marianne's housewarming party. In my very own selfish way, I was excited to observe drunken people and personality clashes. I was also secretly hoping for some crazy blunt verbal wars to bust out, but that, sadly, didn't happen.

Rory, being his buff-studded-self. Carrie on top, Arco on the left and Lane on the right. The yoga crew! As the party progressed, I took notice to yoga and acrobatics happening in the corner of the room. Cute. Drew, Elisa has pink hair, Suzi has orange hair and Claudia is very amusing.Speaking of Claudia, look at her go! I was also highly entertained with my attempts to explain to her that I live in Oregon rather than Arizona. This, of course, being after she had begged me to teach her how to play alto sax.


Our slow decent into alcoholism. . . Isaiah, Lane, Arco.
Isaiah. . . God? . . . Isaiah? . . .
Marianne, Jenn, Myself and Lane on top. I cleverly took advantage of Lane's buzz and drew a circle on his nose which quickly led to whiskers.




Brandy, Carrie, Myself, Jenn, Marianne and Yasminah. . . Before going out for sushi at Ra.




Before going out to Chili's on Thursday. I think we were all in that exhausted-silly state of mind.
Mo, Rory's brother/apprentice. . . "Drinking it sexy" as is a Chile's tradition.

I was dropped off at the Tucson airport at 1:00 and boarded at 2:30. The flight seemed alright, save the fact of having a window seat and being seated next to a relatively middle-aged couple who were over-zealous about dogs. In fact, the whole three hour trip from Tucson to Seattle consisted of them reading and discussing a pamphlet on dog training. Towards the end, they befriended our backside neighbors and talked about TV shows and sitcoms. I grinned and listened to my ipod and gazed out the window.

The plane landed. I had an hour and half to get to my flight to Portland, so I stopped for a newspaper and headed to the gate. The whole terminal ends up being packed with frustrated customers due to Horizon canceling a direct flight from Seattle to Eugene. So I waited in line while the people at the desks hesitantly booked the passengers on alternate flights. I made my way to the front only to find out that my flight to Portland was two hours delayed and because I had a 46 minute layover in Portland, I would end up missing my connecting flight. However, the people at the desk seemed to not recognize that and insisted that I'd have plenty of time to catch my connection flight. So I explained, slowly and surely, my situation until they finally understood what was going on. They searched for other flights only to realize that the flight I'd miss, would be the last flight to Eugene for the day.

So they ended up booking me on a flight to Portland that would leave at 7:00 PM rather than the delayed 8:30 PM. I chuckled and explained to them that I would STILL miss my connecting flight by 20 minutes, assuming that this flight wasn't delayed as well. And they reacted as expected, being overly reassuring that I'll "be okay".

Finally, a few other people trying to make their way to Eugene went up and complained about the same problem. After the employee's 430th call to Eugene and my 431th call home (I win), they settled with holding the plane so us three Eugeneians could catch our flight.

I made small talk with this attractive business guy, explaining what was going on. He had a nice smile and seemed to groom himself properly (something so underappreciated). We'd laugh at the stupidity of the employees and their lack of communication skills and talk about our day. Eventually, people around us joined in and we had a comfortable circle going.
One lady in white read crime scene novels. Had her glasses on the tip of her nose and insisted that the airlines are taking a fall. She was bitter but enjoyable.
A father and son snubbed us off. Grungy, pessimistic and couldn't even glance at each other.
A middle aged woman curled up while reading Harry Potter with her smiley boyfriend sitting close by.

The 7:00 flight was delayed 40 more minutes because they needed to change a tire. We end up boarding and leaving by 8:00 and I stared at my ticket knowing that my flight to Eugene was already boarding.

The business man and I jogged out of the terminal and rushed to our gate. But to keep the bad luck pattern flowing, the plane headed to Eugene hadn't arrived yet. I relaxed and looked around, seeing how Horizon had cancelled three other flights and the remaining ones were, at the minimum, two hours delayed. This obnoxious lady announced that a plane was struck by lightening, thus being the reason for all of the delays. Everyone in the terminal looked around and there was a nervous laugh that seemed to linger around. Thanks, lady, for making our upcoming flight comfortable.

The business man and a group of three others took off to rent a car. I suppose driving a couple of hours isn't too bad in comparison to what was going on. I would've hopped along with them, though I'm sure my parents would'nt've approved of their teenage daughter riding in a car full of men. Sigh, darnit!

Anyways, we end up boarding the small, 9 row plane two hours later than the time I should've been at home.

I arrived in Eugene at 11:50 PM. I should've been sleeping.


No I'm not finished!
So throughout this long, miserable day, I had a lot of time to think. And while doing so, the only explanation as to why my returning trips are always a disaster, is simply because God hates Oregon. Let's remember other returning trip disasters:

First Tucson trip, 2004. I was stuck between a Russian tourist-y couple. The woman had a noticeable beard going on and really became attached to my right shoulder. Her husband's breath smelt like mold and stale coffee. Terrible.

Family reunion, 2004 in Chicago. While coming home, our flight out of O'Hara airport was so backed up, that we had to stay the night in Las Vegas. Mmm cigarette smoke and the sweet, sweet sound of slot machines all. night. long.

Third Tucson trip during New Years. Similar scenario to the most recent one. Left Tucson to San Fran. San Fran delayed, telling me I wouldn't get home. Finally made it to LA where they said I wouldn't get home. And of course, I made it home. This situation was definitely worse-er in comparison to the other because I was forced to bum a cell phone off of random strangers only to listen to my mom bitch about how she couldn't do anything about it.

New York, one month ago. For six hours, I was slammed up against the window, entire body shifted. This 19, 20 year old girl, BIG girl, sat in the middle. Her thigh took up half of my seat and she went thru an entire pack of cotton candy bubble gum, jolly rancher suckers and tore pages out of magazines for scrapbooking. Better yet, she rambled on about how she just got out of rehab. Excellent!


Clearly God is holding a grudge.

Hot Hot Heat ... Sucks!

I am bored and sleepy. All of the "Jersey Girls" are at the pool swimming and because (I'd like to think) I'm relatively smart, I stayed inside in efforts to protect my ultra fair skin from being fried, yet again.

Last night, we all got dressed up to go out for sushi at this place called Ra. And because the weather is psychotic here, the moment we stepped outside, the "death clouds" were clearly visible. Immediately, while we were taking pictures, the wind swooped below us and attempted to lift our skirts/dresses up. Not funny, wind. And it started raining and the lightening* was actually touching the ground!!


Anyways. Aside from the weather, everything's okay. I do miss Oregon's non-let'shateeveryoneandkillthemwithourultravioletrays-ness.

*website photos are all mostly from Tucson!

This Is Katy In Arizona!

Spending seven hours in an airport waiting for a three hour flight sucks. However, I was slightly amused with the entire swim team spread out all over the plane that would constantly shout at each other, bang on seats, throw papers, obsessively talk about fashion and NOT let me out to go use the bathroom.

Oh wait, no.

Aside from that, Tucson is insanely hot. 120 degrees yesterday? Disgusting.

Humans! Call me! I'll be bored and it'd be nice to hear from you (and you and you and you).

Days Are Falling From The Sky

I saw Jorge today. Only a few complications with getting to my house (alright, alright... He ended up clear in Eugene but that's beside the point). I took him to House of Records in Eugene where we spent a solid hour drooling at all of the indie goodness. He ended up spending $60 on records and I managed to squeak out of there only spending $20.90 on two cds: Sloan - One Chord to Another and A.C. Newman - The Slow Wonder.

Excellence, excellence, excellence.

Tonight I'll be busy getting in touch with friends before I leave early Sunday morning. Barnes and Noble later tonight. And after close, I'm more than likely heading to Sabrina's for a few hours of chatting (and being overly amused by her gigantic dog (Maybe I'll snatch a picture)).

NOW PRESENTING (for all of you stalkers out there) . . . Your long overdue one Country Fair picture!
There we have it. A snapshot of the lovely scenic Oregon and bobbing heads of hippies and tourists. Rad.

Breaking Clavicles!

So I was standing in my bathroom, looking in the mirror, when I noticed an unfamiliar twitch under my left eye. I blinked several times only to still see it there afterwards. The only logical explanation to why this monstrosity has occurred is that some microscopic organism implanted automatic self timed twitchers under my left eye as a science experiment. But since logical reasonings rarely happen, the constant twitch is probably my body's way of telling me to shut the hell up and go to sleep.

And I'm spent.

What I've learned (continued)

I've learned that I look extremely weird on the red carpet, however, receiving an email full of these pictures provided many, many bouts of random laughter.
Indeed.

I'd Rather Be Deadly Than Dead

On this day back in 1992, Jeffrey Dahmer changed his plea to guilty but insane.

It's official. I am the boringist 17 year old in the world. It's 1:00 PM and all I've accomplished is watching CourtTV and fixing my brother lunch. Now, considering the situation I'm in, having a passive 8 year old brother who only has Playstation 2 on his mind makes it difficult to come up with something to do outside of my house. Also, special thanks to my mom for taking the last $10.00 I had in my wallet this morning.

Alive With Pleasure

It is only 3:30 in the afternoon and I feel like I haven't slept for days. I have already tried my usual method for a good nap by putting on the Addams Family Values dvd but alas, I am still awake.

So now's the time where I'll aimlessly talk about upcoming and past events that will amuse no one.

Yesterday was the Country Fair with Joann and Julie. Ohhh the sweet, sweet scent of b/o, patchouli oil and vegan meals.
Favorite quote of the day:
Note: All said in the standard valley-girl voice
(Man walks by wearing a skirt while we're sitting on the grass)
Katy: Ugggh so hottt.
Joann: He'd be hotter with make-up.
Julie: I prefer the skirt to be shorter.

And, of course, can't leave out all of the painted titties and preggo bellies hanging out. Or the fairies tripping on acid sprinkling glitter everywhere. The drum tower was fantastic as well.

Pictures, soon!

As for the rest of this week, I have nothing planned. Jorge is flying to Oregon tomorrow to visit family in Corvallis. So we'll arrange some visiting time. Exciting!

I leave on Sunday for a five day adventure! Woo for Tucson friends! Boo for ridiculous heat.

The Sporting Life

Dear Bend, Oregon:
We'd like to take this opportunity to send many thanks your way for having the Les Schwab Amp. and having the following concert on August 6th--
Death Cab for Cutie, Decemberists, Built to Spill, Pedro the Lion and Viva Voce.

That being said--

Sincerely,
Katy and Joann.


Also, we'll be seeing the Decemberists exactly one week after this concert as well, only with approximately five thousand more people in my car. The Violent Femmes will be opening. Sure, it seems like a lot of Decemberists for one month, but not taking advantage of a wonderful local band being home is a very petty idea.
Aside from concerts, my sunburn is not so attack-y anymore.

And this just made my night:
Chris : "yeah, i bought a PSP, and i got two bottles of isopropyl alcohol instead"
Chris : "ohh my word! would you like a replacement?"
Chris : "no, just a cash refund will be fine"
Chris : "ok here you go! sorry again!"

It's absolutely incredible what you can get away with.

Book of Right-On

This is Katy on two days of no sleep.

I have the worst sun burn in the world topped with twelve layers of aloe vera. I sleep in fifteen minute intervals and shoot up once my back hits the sheets. I had a dream that my bed was invaded by giant bugs who could dance the Charlston while singing "Hello Dolly." I was able to fend most of them off with a broom, before I was knocked unconscious. This is sickening.

Today I have an interview with Theresa from The Gazette Times in Corvallis at noon. It's exciting, but becoming redundant. Tomorrow I have a televised interview with KMRT, a local news station.

I have slivers in my hands, bruises on my shins. It's time to shower.

I've learned that...

Taking promo pictures for teenage religious bands does not equal good. After waiting impatiently for over an hour while they practiced (and sucked), I finally came up with this picture. "Once Lost" has a lot to work on. Oy, it's frustrating when your friends are in crappy bands.

I've also learned that I sometimes have the best luck ever. My mom and I were talking and she mentioned that her 30th class reunion was either August 12th or 13th. Immediately, I thought of the Decemberists playing at Bite of Oregon on the 12th. Fortunately, my mom's reunion is on the 13th and a car full of myself and friends will make it to Portland.

And so it begins

Here is the article from yesterday's interview. It's a nice one, overall. I enjoyed how she described me as a "confident, down-to-earth girl with a mop of curly hair."

Sure sums me up! I suppose the only negative part about it is the fact that the clipping of my face doesn't show any signs of clothing but I swear, I'm not naked!

Today I learned to not jump on random covered tubes that say "confined space" on the top.

So I was going on my fifth hour of weeding at work today when this women comes up and says her daughter fell in a hole and her shoe was stuck down there and was wondering if we could "fish it out."

Jeff, the fellow I worked with, checked it out and thirty minutes later, comes back chuckling. He explained to me that the women's eleven year old daughter was hopping from one confined space tube to the other. Her grand finale was on the last one and her stomps cracked the bolts of the fiberclass cover and then she fell. Fell into the sewage drain system.

We didn't get the shoe.

Disease!

I am getting sick. Everything in my stomach feels like it's wrongly working and my face is pale, throat is sore. Go away, go away!

Things have been good. Spent practically all week at my mom's bakery playing with some of the clients there. Tim is fabulous. We danced in circles around my mom to Beach Boys songs pretending to be superheroes and robots. Having fun is fun.

In about an hour and a half a reporter from the Register Guard is coming to my house to interview me about my prizes. When I talked with her yesterday, she sounded standoffish. She could've just been worn down, but who knows. And next week, I have an interview with Corvallis' newspaper, the GT.

I am overwhelmed, but it is good.