NPM: The Light on the Wall

I can tell this room is not a square
because the ceiling tiles don't match up
and the overhead fan isn't centered,
and the fluorescent light doesn't have
enough air around its dangling fixtures.
I can tell that the roof is not flat
because these pipes slant downward
toward this strange space
where windows used to be and
in the winter the snow slides off
into frozen barricades around the building.
And I can tell that the light on the wall
is much like the anxiety in my body,
or perhaps what I wish it was like,
in that despite its label--FIRE--
the thing itself is not fire,
the light itself is not fire,
but in fact a simple indication
of some other fire's proximity.

NPM: The Work and the Worker, Delays, & The Art of Barking

I noticed, after my last post, that I wrote four poems for three days, and then skipped a day. And then I was tired so I skipped a few more, because, let's face it: poetry is hard work. When I spend so much of my time wrapping my brain around something that is not my niche, or my "go to" activity, it's hard to really delve into the emotional depths required for such writing.

I'm still tired. But I'll try. Because I owe the world three poems.


The Work and the Worker

Pilfering paper piles,
placidly placed,
perhaps people prefer
platitudes.
Half-hired honesty:
happy here,
happy however.
Happy his, happy hers,
happy hell.
What went wrong?
Which welling world
waywardly walked,
wistfully wandered,
wilted without
work?
Who was willful?
What worker?
What work?


Delays

If the sun shines
but the earth never turns.
Do we still
If the skies shake
but the rain stays aloft.
Do we stay?
And if it does rain
and the ground fills up
but the grass stays brown
and the flowers never grow.
Do we ever?


The Art of Barking

I've been bewildered by spring,
the innocence it does not spare,
allowing upward blossoms
to be trampled or twisted.
The birds' wings act as fists
against the smaller flying beasts
and the cruel rains drown
the newest of blooms.
It seems winter was not enough
of tragedy or agony
for the flowers or the foxes or me.
But even baby trees bend
and soon they grow a thick skin
and they get ready
for the next time around.

National Poetry Month: The return journey

April, it seems, crept up on me once again this year. March arrived, dumped several buckets of ice and cold onto my head, then swiftly left the way it came. But now it is April, and National Poetry Month, and I fully intend on writing a million more poems this year. Feel about that however you wish. I'm forcing myself to do it whether you like it or not.

Statistically speaking... I have probably written close to 2500 poems during my life. It's likely I started writing poetry at about the age of 5, but I don't remember those poems. I do remember a few that I wrote at the age of 8. It was around the same time I started writing books. If that makes me sound like some crazy literary prodigy--I promise you, I was not. Am not. I was just a loner with a huge imagination. Sometimes that makes people famous, doesn't it? I'll let you know how it all works out.

In the meantime, I have a whole year behind me with poetry material, not to mention all the things that might happen this month. There is a sort of torturous beauty in seeing how we change as people in just one year, especially now that social media can potentially keep track of every milestone, every wound. I appreciate it enough for now, but I hope someday when I'm old that I don't regret it all. I hope I might be able to appreciate it more, that we will all realize our memories are worth the effort of cataloging them in various forms. I believe, at least, that the poetry will be worth it. 

For starters, I can't sleep tonight, and I had a weird dream last night that it still causing me trouble. So we'll begin with that. And since it's already April 4th I'll pull a few poems from my other blog, which is mostly a secret. The first two are both about dreams. The third (Dear Universe) is probably my current favorite.

And yes, in case you were actually wondering, all of these poems are my property and were written by me and if you steal them and make money on them or use them as toilet paper or feed them to the birds I will do everything in my power to come after you and make you suffer like a poetry-thief should suffer. Amen.

The Ride to the Airport. (4/4/14)

When Harry met Sally

their mouths were full of snark

--as were ours,

when we were young,

and the dream was new,

still in the dark.

When I needed saving

you called me from the south.

I was to meet you

but you were on your way.

The secret was already out.

When even I am sleeping

and the pull cannot be real

I believe I'll be flying

until my waking eyes

break the deal.

Cinderella Says. (3/28/14)

A dream is a wish your heart makes

without stipulations or magic lamps.

It just does what it’s told.

It’s a place where

dead women console their living friends

and former lovers let you see their faces,

just before they turn their back to you

one final time.

And that woman made me a cup of tea;

she tsked when I didn’t say thank-you;

she asked me, “Did you love him?”

as if he was already gone. I said

“I did, I did,” but couldn’t remember his name

and in my sleep I wept

in all the ways my waking self wouldn't.

Dear Universe. (3/17/14)

Dear universe,

I forgot how big you were.

I forgot the expense

of living.

I abandoned the wayward thought

which dragged me

toward understanding

my former self was invincible

and would follow me forever.

But you kill those persons 

we have been

because they are lesser minds

with inconsequential hearts,

which gently leads me

to believe

truthfully some souls 

are not worth saving

because they no longer

are.

Do you ever keep your promise. (2/8/14)

Do you ever keep your promise

to trust someone who can keep promises?

Do you let it slide

until it avalanches

and words lose all meaning?

Do you know what I mean?

I cannot trust

you

if there are no trustworthy people

you are entrusted to.

Help, I'm Alive: Thoughts on the Bigger Picture.

Today as I woke I settled lazily into my thoughts, as I do every day, categorizing in my head all the things that must be done and the words that must be said--yes, I deliberately choose to have conversations, it's true. And I say I did it lazily because I had not yet remembered yesterday's thoughts, yesterday's troubles, yesterday's words.

Today, before I remembered yesterday, I checked the weather (a lovely 49 degrees)and I listened to my husband gathering his dirty work clothes and grumbling at their smell. I made myself a cup of tea, washed my face, pondered how soon I'd be ready to start that scrapbooking project, I answered an e-mail from a coworker, and turned on my latest playlist. 

And then I remembered yesterday, and yesterday's thoughts, troubles, and words. They were nothing like today.

Today, the "trending" things on Facebook include iOS 7.1, the upcoming new season of '24', the Sbarro sandwich company filing for their second bankruptcy in three years, and a whole slew of celebrity rubbish. You know what isn't included on that scrolling tab of trends?

The fact that 33 Christians were ordered to be executed by North Korea's tyrant Kim Jong-Un because they helped start underground churches. (Kim Jong-Un Order Execution of 33 Christians.)

The fact that 239 people and one ginormous airplane are still lost somewhere in the world, and we don't know why. (Malaysia flight 370 Still a Complete Mystery.)

Those were yesterday's thoughts, and while I know many of my friends are thinking about these matters and praying about them, most of the world sees a news article, gives it 5 minutes of their brain-space, and then they move on to their lattes and their smartphones and their less-terrifying business. It's easier to stay inside the bubble of our own lives. It's safe there.

But the truth is that the world is a dark, hard-hearted place where people are killed for their beliefs and entire planes disappear without answers for those left behind. We live on a planet where one person can wake up and go out for espresso and banter about last night's premier of 'Cosmos' with his friends, and on the other side of the world somebody is waking up in a cold cell, waiting only for their death. And other people got on a plane in Malaysia on Saturday morning and didn't land in Beijing as expected.

 Brace yourself for this next group of thoughts.

I don't have a problem with those Christians facing death.

I don't have a problem with the missing plane and the missing people.

I don't have a problem, because my heart is absolutely broken about it, and that is all that God asks of me. It would be a problem for me if my heart wasn't broken. My real problem is that there isn't anything else I can do. All I can do is hold myself within that heartbreak, to acknowledge the depth of sadness in this situation, to pray for the families and friends of those who are lost. 

I have no choice but to go about my business as if nothing's wrong... because I have a life to live... and that life is here. It's not in North Korea, or Malaysia. 

Part of my current playlist is a song that I came across a few years ago. I'm sure there are other meanings you could glean from its lyrics but today, it's reminding me to just let myself feel sad. It's a reminder to allow yesterday's thoughts and troubles and words stay with me, to let those feelings stay with me, even if they don't keep me "safe" in my own life, even if others might think I should move on.

I've posted the acoustic version below. It doesn't have lyrics, but you can look them up if you want to. The song is "Help, I'm Alive" by Metric.

Don't be afraid to be empathetic. Sit in your feelings for a while... it's okay. Really.

How About That!

Eons ago you might have seen or heard commercials for an offline dating program called "How About We." The company basically provides you with deals on dates and supposedly other people see those dates and want to join you. I've never tried the site for single people, but I have recently enjoyed the truly thrilling experience of How About We for Couples.

Here's the lowdown. It's awesome. But before I go into all the details of what you get for your money, let me show you some pictures of our latest date.

We went to two local cafes, both nestled into the gray iceberg of Wrigleyville. I got a photo of Wrigley Field but for some reason forget to snap a photo of the pizza place we went to: Dimo's.

There we shared a salad called "The Philosopher" and each got a monster-sized slice of pizza . On the left, Joey's chicken barbecue-ranch. On the right, my Philly cheesesteak. They were delicious. 

Let's get a better look at those, shall we?

And then we played The Game of Life, Simpsons edition! It was hilarious. I'm pretty sure I won.

We didn't get to finish the game because the parking meter was about to run out, and we had to rush back through one of those 6-way intersections. Plus, we had somewhere else to be!

Heritage Bicycles makes custom "vintage" bikes--bikes with pretentious names like "The Jane" and "The Chief." They also make coffee and delicious pastries, which are displayed on a bamboo cutting board and then served on tin rectangular trays. (Oooh, Aaaah) Joey got a hazelnut latte (see below), I got a chai tea latter (not pictured, because it looks oddly like a cup of milk and that's just lame.) We both got the walnut coffee cake, which was a little dry but still super tasty.

It's hard to explain how much I enjoyed our two dates without also telling you how ridiculous the whole atmosphere was. The walls were mosaic-ed with chalkboards and tandem bikes and huge medicine bottles full of mysterious liquids. There was an old typewriter sitting on the corner of the counter, which I can't criticize because it was beautiful. But still. They were basically shouting, "This is organic! I'm a hipster! Our barrista has dreadlocks!" 

The pizza place wasn't like that. They just had some really sassy wall art, an a can crusher on the wall which looked like the same one my grandparents used to have at their ranch. 

Still, it was an evening well spent. And would you like to know how much all of it cost us? 

The entire date itself (not including parking, which totaled $8) came to a whopping: $0.

That's right. Both of those dates were free. Because at HowAboutWe (for couples) you get one free date every month. Joey and I got 2 on this particular day because the original free date from February (which we scheduled in March)... it closed. What I mean is, the place we were supposed to go closed down. So we got a credit to our account (yay!) and 2 free dates. We decided to make a day of it and use them both at once.

You're probably saying, "oh, but it's a dating service, it's expensive," blahblahblah. But honestly, it isn't that much. It's $18 a month. (Your first month is always free, btw.) I can't go on a normal date for $18 let alone an awesome date to a new place with food I've never tried before. 

There are other perks as well. In addition to the free dates, you also get "member prices" for every date on their site. This includes concerts, stand-up comedy shows, fancy restaurants, dancing classes. There's also a "Rewards" section, which gives you coupon codes for discounted prices on things like moving vans or a clothing store or (my favorite) buy-one-get-one-free at Fandango. The Fandango reward is usually there every month, allowing Joey and I to both go to the movies for about $15 once we buy the popcorn. 

So I know this whole post seemed like a giant advertisement, but let me tell you, even if you only do it for your free month trial, it's totally worth it. And it's worth the $18, because it forces you to choose something to do with your spouse. Or fiance. Or boyfriend. Whatever. I think we live in this world where dating has little meaning and so you stay at home all the time. For me, it's nice to have a reason to go out and try new things. Maybe someday Joey and I will be old and wrinkly and we'll go to the same restaurant every week but for now it's nice to just sort of be adventurous.

It's nice to find something new together. :)

So go ahead and try it. Click HERE and you'll get $50 off your first date!!

The perfect fit.

This blog is about finding things and losing things. Right? Most of the time I just sort of ramble about things that are bothering me... and I call them "findings"... or maybe I'm griping about something I lost. Whatever.

Today I want to share something I found! There's this wonderful website called eShakti, and they make customized clothing.Your first order allows free customization, and after that it's $7.50. Not $7.50 per customized request--you could get shorter sleeves, a higher neckline, a longer skirt, or take out the precious pockets they sew into every dress. It's $7.50 for all customization per item of clothing.

You also get a $25 "gift coupon" for your first order. I apparently bought my dress at a special time, because I got a whole $30 instead. It was awesome.

Needless to say, I am completely satisfied with the dress. I got to enter in my measurements (woohoo) and I made the skirt a little longer. They it takes 14 business days to arrive... but mine took just over a week to arrive. And it's wonderful!

I know. My hair is not at its best today. Oh well.

Super excited about the pockets! 

The back is insanely cute. Also, cap sleeves, since I was
wearing a sweater in the other photos.

So there you have it. A customized dress, which I wore to work twice this week. (Once at each different work place. Don't be weird.) I highly recommend this site, their service, and their products. The fabric is SO comfortable and I will just mention it one more time.... POCKETS. You also get a free measuring tape with your order. 

Additional notes on wanted things.

I'm currently in the Lew loft, a place in a building at my university. This building used to be the student center, complete with pool tables and a giant fire place and secret couches where young, hopeful students exchanged promise rings and made out like animals. It's now the building where I work, and it's a semi-public place.

I can sit here at this computer and I could, if I felt like it, talk to the students up here. It's obvious to them what I'm doing. I'm writing. That's not a secret. I'm hanging out on Facebook and Pinterest and listening to music on my Amazon Cloud Player. But I don't have to maximize the screen and make the letters really big to allow them to read from afar. I don't need to expand every melancholy quote or filtered photos of puppies on Pinterest so they can see it too.

And when I'm in other public places, ordering coffee at a Starbucks or buying deodorant at Target or checking my mail box in the lobby. I never holler at other Starbucks customers, "I'm buying this coffee because I stayed up all night watching Golden Girls!" When at Target I don't tell the girl at the check-out line that my last deodorant made my armpits itchy. And when I check the mail I don't wave to the security officers smoking near the door and tell them I'm waiting for my electric bill, because it's overdue and I lost the first invoice and needed another one sent. I don't shout my every action to strangers--out of respect for myself, for the people I love, and because it's simply not anyone else's business.

One of the reasons I sounded, perhaps, so indignant in my last blog post is because I have a big problem with bloggers who tell their secrets to the world. I understand, to an extent, that these secrets can help people. Quite a few bloggers, women specifically, have written inspiring things which spurred me into a new perspective or state of mind. Usually they're talking about themselves. The blogs I'm talking about are "wife" blogs, "mom" blogs, "Christian woman" blogs.

Most of them are good--so good! But then they write, "My husband and I had an argument today." Rather than explain how they overcame the conflict, she describes numerous details about the argument that don't quite seem relevant and a minute later I am angry with her husband, a man I don't know and shouldn't judge.

I understand, it's a marriage blog, you should talk about marriage. And writing from experience proves to be the best and most effective method. Marriage bloggers should write about arguing and not arguing and finances and parents and all that good stuff. But we can comprehend the message, we can see her points and learn from the situation without knowing all the details of her marriage. ("Her" being any random wife/mom/Christian woman blogger.)

It might sound very old fashioned of me, but the reason this sort of "airing of the dirty laundry" makes me so recklessly frustrated is that it shows very little respect for men--and for your husband. It is my firm belief that the feminist movement and the media have made it extremely acceptable to degrade, disregard, dismiss, and generally disrespect men and therefore our husbands. Pick a commercial you've seen or heard recently--if it has a man and a woman in it, the man will almost always be the less intelligent, less respected, less "with it" individual. But I digress. That's a topic for another day.

The point I'm attempting to get across is that my husband is worth respecting. I don't want to use him, our marriage, our problems (and yes, they exist!) to gain popularity in the social media. 

I love my life. My "whatever." Like I said last time. I love my marriage. I love my husband.

I may occasionally open up about my life, let you in on some secrets, show you the darker side of Katherine Megan Foutz Voss, and do things like tell you my full name. I may very well reveal things that make you uncomfortable because life is gritty and difficult and heartbreaking. Life is uncomfortable. But I don't have to say a thing about my marriage, or about my husband.

Marriage--my marriage--is sacred. 

That's how God created marriage. Everything I experience as a wife is mine to keep, I am not required to share despite how often I might actually do it. I could, with all justification, keep my entire marriage a secret from the world because it was created for me and my husband, not for the world. And in the same way, how I feel about my husband isn't necessary information for the social network, especially if that information contains negativity or complaining. As wives, we are prone to complaining about husbands--we've been doing it since the beginning of husbands and wives. He left the toilet seat up, he fed the dog Cheetos, he forgot it was your 2-and-a-half-months-iversary. Whatever. We get together and gripe about the things our husbands do because it's hard for women to let their guards down, and sharing complaints about common ground (husbands being that common ground) is much easier. We don't have to be vulnerable if we're just complaining about our Mister. 

So my entire blog post, about what I want, was sort of fueled by that. I find it so discouraging that bloggers are required to be "new" and "edgy", and that often times we're just complaining about things to become popular and relevant. I don't want to complain about Joseph to make you like me. 

Still. I just want to be. I hope it all makes sense, if you're reading this.