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inkblossom
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Name: kat caboin
Country: United States
State: Washington
Metro: Bellingham
Birthday: 3/17/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: music, both mine and others', (NIRVANA, mastodon, iron maiden, led zeppelin, black sabbath, judas priest, the doors, and rainbow are tops. if you care more, just look at the "listening to".) words, both mine and others',; art; spirituality; evolution of the individual; peace; love; unity; community; anything with a little soul. and sexual health. i think i'll major in that.
Expertise: survival, procrastination, scribbling, being the indecisive pisces that i am.
Occupation: homo-sapien
Industry: earth
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
9/9/2004
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|  | Currently
Ágætis Byrjun
By Sigur Rós
the one that starts with an f that i wish i wrote and don't know how to spell
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four minutes before the language lab closed on sunday, kat recieved a surprising text message. both the sender and the message itself was a surprise, as it was the notorious six-pack zach: "can we talk?"
thinking she was hallucinating, kat showed the message to the handsome language lab assistant to make sure he could see it, too. he could, but found it strange that the sending time on the actual message was three minutes after it was sent. kat decided to wait until her insides had solidified before responding. additionally, she only thought it was his number, as she had lost her phone on the mind eraser earlier that summer.
the next day, kat had a women's circle, as it was the new moon. when she mentioned the message, sus recounted talking to six-pack on halloween, and telling him that small talk was a bit hard for her because she couldn't help but think of how much i bitch about him at every moon lodge (ha). after hugs and closing the circle, kat texted "is this zach?" to the 509 number, hoping hoping hoping that the wheels of healing had finally been set in motion.
she woke to one new text message on her phone, but it was her dad. but that afternoon, right as brian, kat, and ian were journeying to the realty office to get ian on the lease, six-pack replied and the conversation continued (slowly) into the night (verbetum):
six-pack: yes. i know you don't want to see or hear from me, but i need there to be some type of communication between us so that you don't continue hating me and i can somehow earn your forgiveness. i never wanted any of this to happen and if you could just hear me out maybe we can build some mutual understanding.
kat: i've been trying to have this communication since october 6th 2007 but you never took me seriously.
six-pack: i know and i am so sorry for taking so long. for awhile i didn't even understand how you felt, i have been a duesh in the way i've acted towards you.
kat: believe me, i have needed compromise for far too long. i am ready and willing to work things out if you are.
six-pack: i definately deserve a kick in the balls for our miscommunication...
kat: at least you're coming to me now-- i'm incredibly grateful for that. thanks for taking the innitiative to contact me. why the sudden change of heart? (thinking: i think i know. i just want to see if you'll be honest with me.)
six-pack: i talked to sus a few weeks ago and i've been reading really weird and uncomfortable about it lately, knowing how you feel about this has made me want to clear this up, i want to help. i never had any bad intentions towards you, ever.. that night i really did like you and thought there was mutual consent between us. i never felt as if anything was being forced... it was a mistake under the conditions, i'm not that kind of person. sorry lengthy i can email.
kat: no worries. thanks so much for telling me. we had a serious miscommunication and i thought i had made it clear that i wasn't looking for anything sexual. i don't feel like typing everything out, but i would like to meet you to talk this through. i just need this talk to be real so the healing can be real.
six-pack: (picture of the two-cat-in-a-fishbowl card i gave him for his 19th birthday on a wall) i love this card and still have it my wall.
kat: i was trying to make up with you-- touch the human side. glad it worked to some degree. i still have your green guitar pick if you remember that at all.
six-pack: do you ever use it to play and sing your folk songs? (he still thinks of me as a folkie. that makes me awwwww.)
kat: yeah, i keep it on me most days. i'm really scared of breaking it.
six-pack: i'm glad you're still playing music. western has killed it for me with so much work, but i still get funky every once in awhile. how has fairhaven been?
kat: thanks to you-- and some long held interests-- i'm currently writing my concentration in sexual health counseling. graduating this summer. insanity.
and that was it. i think i did well, especially considering how bitter i've been lately. i suppose composting that bitterness at the new moon has worked so far.
if i don't hear back from him by the end of the week, i'm going to try to set up some time where we can meet and talk about things. i don't know if i'll need a mediator since he seems honestly ready and willing to reach common ground. maybe my counseling-- actively seeking help for the first time-- has worked as a sort of sympathetic magic in this process.
and six-pack, i'm pretty sure it's been you who's been reading this diary (especially the six-pack zach tagged entries) for the past week or so. the kick in the balls text was a big-time hint. if you want to reach consensus, feel free to read-up on things. it might help you going in if you know kat's side of the story.
and if it's not six-pack-- i hope you enjoy anyway. i keep entries public so anyone who stumbles along can learn from the silly life of a ninteen-year-old kid. | | |
|  | Currently
The Weirdness
By The Stooges
my idea of fun (is killing everyone. now is the season for war without reason.)
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i was a brave person at the counseling center today, thanks to brian holding my hand. i even told annemarie about smoking and watching south park to mask the pain.
nothing kathartic yet. i was shakey and flight-or-fight-y the entire time. but it felt better. i even talked about sonny and my desire/fear of death.
i have another appointment next friday morning. here's to hope and healing.
i don't know why i'm so freaked out about work tomorrow. i need the hours.
i need to write my fucking lousy paper.
i have for a while.
i love veterens.
six-pack remains on my mind. does he ever leave?
fuck that shit.
giving my concentration to my entire committee. wish me lots and lot of luck, love, health, and happiness.
i'd like to think that people would. | | |
| dear zach,
after reading a bunch of old notebook ramblings from our haydays and the first month-or-so of college, i have come to a revelation.
sorry, kid, but it wasn't love. rather, 'twas a glorious combination of friendship, horny desperation, stickin' it to the man, and really good sex. hindsight's always 20/20, right?: you had just moved back from your failed marriage in california, i had turned 16 and was anxious to lose my virginity while "cherries were red" (thanks bus buddies). we worked at dairy queen together and had similar interests and senses of humor. friendship and horny desperation-- check. as for the man, he doesn't want us to be together. fuck him, right? it's the adrenaline rush of non-conformity!!! so, it's january, and we've started boinking, and it feels amazing. you're my first and you say i'm the best you've ever had (between annie, crackhead dawn, and that isla bitch at king soopers, i'm not that surprised), so good sex is a check.
i had my sneaking suspicions in the past, but reading through my old notebooks last night, it finally clicked. everything about you is ridiculously horny and filled to the brim with sex-imagery and whatnot. we became animals tearing through each others' clothes for yet another satisfying fuck. looking back, now, it's HILARIOUS. (and sad. that, too.)
ah, first love.
i dreamed about you last night. i was going to visit you or you were getting out of prison or something like that. your beard was enourmous and devouring your entire face. and you had nugly-looking dreads on your head. and i was so excited to see you. and i guess i would be in real life, because you're still my friend.
i haven't heard from you in over a month. i should send you something. i'm sorry, life post-you is something else entirely. but still, i have your art hanging on my wall. and i love it.
that's the end.
~kat | | |
| the night between saturday and sunday, i had a nightmare about working for a television company with six-pack evil pants. it really shook me up. i felt a lot of pain and couldn't stop thinking about him at work, so i went to see brian at the language lab, wrote five pages of bullshit, got a parking ticket, and tried to keep on the sunny side. i ended up feverish and freaking out, so i decided to do something about it. so, monday, i finally scheduled an appointment with the counseling center after consulting "mysticdoc" on justask.com, who said all of my six-pack symptoms, both physical and mental, sounded like post-traumatic stress disorder.
yippee! just in time for veteran's day!
it's first thing on thor's day, and i hope it goes okay. i don't want to not be able to do homework because i'm too busy freaking out about that kid ever again.
i got my concentration draft back from john bower. he said it was good, but i freaked out about changes yesterday. hopefully today will be a bit better. i just need to keep on the sunny side and maybe all my dreams will come true! (sparkle eyed sarcasm, kids.)
i need more food stamps and i need the internet to stop being so lame so i can pay off my damndable credit card.
i do have fun, sometimes, though. after my ten hour shift on friday, jeffy, john, brian, and i went to see the men who stare at goats, which was hilarious. because what could be more groovy than a new-agey army who use their psychic powers to do things? and take a bunch of lsd. on the way home from the movie, we picked up an incredibly drunk bro who wanted to go to the ridge. his name was alex and jeffy told him a bunch of lies about a sleazy girl named angela. saturday brought the dining hall with jeffy and brian feeling he WAS a smart version of the nicholas cage character in raising arizona. good times.
fuck, i'm boring. | | |
| yesterday, while walking at the downtown bus station, i ran into the boy who raped me. my ears were full of punk rock when i looked up and there he was, looking at me, saying "hey kat..." as if he's going to talk to me, tugging the earphones out of his ears, wanting me to push back mine and acknowledge his presence. as much as i hate to admit it, i'm terrified of him. and i'm not afraid of much. so, instead of granting him what he wanted, i just said hey, and kept walking. he tried to talk more, but i said hey again as i passed him. i had two choices: i could make my voice sound as scared as i was or i could make it sound tough, so it sounded too tough and i just walked by. i could tell he turned around to watch me for a bit, but i just kept walking, trying not to shake. i wanted to kick him as soon as i saw him, but it's the downtown bus station, with security and witnesses and cops everywhere, so i just walked by and didn't grant him the acknowledgement he wanted apart from saying "hey" twice in my gristle voice. grey sweater, blue jeans, and his ridiculous ponytail. i hadn't seen him since the first day of school. i didn't acknowledge him then either. i know he noticed me, but he was talking with people, so he probably thought nothing of it. and this time, this time took guts. and balls. ha. and i got on the bus, remembering that he's 21 now, which means he survived without drinking himself to death. damn. it shook me up the whole time i was at work, so i went home and medicated and talked to ian for hours about nothing. today, in my gender and law class, the issue of rape and how often "victims" know their attackers. and i felt like i was going to break down; as if i was a giant bottle of doctor pepper that had been shaken up. open me now and i'll spray my artificially-flavoured stickiness all over your house. but i'm calming down. and i think i did the right thing. i hope, i hope. why is there never a time where i can sneak up on him? why is it always him sneaking up on me? our entire "relationship" (and i hate saying that because "relationship" makes people think boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, which it has NEVER been at all) has consisted of him sneaking up on me. i demand justice. i demand revenge. gah. live, love, breathe. nothing is permanent, yet all is not chaos. life is evolution-- your own personal revolution. | | |
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