Ball Game.

Of course my head looks huge and my smile's forced...

But I love baseball.

We beat the Phillies, 4-3.

History.

My favorite song is History by a British band called The Verve. I heard it on the internet, streaming through our 28kbps AOL dial-up connection, when I was 15 years old. At that time, I'd never had a boyfriend, I'd never been kissed, never held any one's hand, yet the song moved me so much that it actually changed me. Sitting in front of my parents old Gateway, headphones on, I sat still for a moment, taking it in, trying to understand each word and how it told its story. I think this song may have been my first experience with pain. Not the ouch kind, of course, but real, deep, unnerving pain.

At seventeen, I made my first pilgrimage to London. There, I bought the two History singles (among others). At this time, I had never bought anything over the internet, so what better way to buy imports than flying to the locale in which they're available? I thought it was quite logical. That and I could say, at 17, "Oh, that? I bought it in London."

The years went by and I got to know History; each chord, string, bar, gasp, plead, it was inside me. It still is.

I went to college and got kissed, held hands, had boyfriends. Sometimes it hurt, sometimes it didn't, but History was there for each of them. History was there for me. I became an English major and, through my classes, discovered the song is based on William Blake's London; somehow making it more important because now it was "literary" and couldn't ever be labelled a pop-hit. I think.

So, here I am, now. It's been over a year since I graduated college, I'm single again, and History is still here, a whole eight years later, and still my favorite song.

Band: The Verve, Song: History

I wander lonely streets
Behind where the old Thames does flow
And in every face I meet
Reminds me of what I have run from

In every man, in every hand
In every kiss, you understand
That living is for other men
I hope you two will understand

I've got to tell you my tale
Of how I loved and how I failed
I hope you understand
These feelings should not be in the man

In every child, in every eye
In every sky, above my head
I hope that I know
So come with me in bed
Because it's you and me, we're history
There ain't nothing left to say
When I will get you alone

Maybe we could find a room
Where we could see what we should do
Maybe you know it's true
Living with me is like keeping a fool

In every man, in every hand
In every kiss, you understand
That living is for other men
I hope you know that I am me so come on
I'm thinking about history
And I'm living for history
And I think you know I'm bound for you
Cause I am

And one and one is two
But three is company
When you're thinking about the things you do
And you're thinking about the things you do

I want to tell you my tale
How I fell in love and jumped out on my bail
I hope you understand
There's more in a smile than in a hand

In every sky, in every kiss
There's something that you might have missed
And why am I going to
A place that now belongs to you

But you were weak and so am I
Let's pick it up, let's even try
To live today, so why not smile
Don't dream away your life cause it is mine
It is mine
Is that a crime?
Is that a crime?
This life is mine

The bed ain't made but it's filled full of hope
I've got a skin full of dope
But the bed ain't made, it's filled full of hope
I've got a skin full of dope

Case in Point.

When I started writing on Kate Space in February 2005, I wasn't sure what its purpose was. Granted, there are the usual reasons for blogging: keeping in touch with family and friends, writing in a new medium, sharing my great adventures with the world...

But, at the same time, I censor myself. I don't write anything horribly offensive, try to stay apolitical, I don't share anything too personal-- I've yet to have a TMI moment on this thing...and why? For the simple fact, that I, Katy Ray (the one who hates passive voice), am a chicken.

And I don't want to be.

So, here, ladies and gentlemen, is my TMI moment of the day:
Band: Doves, Song: M62 Song

Moonshine
I'm waiting for a love that never comes
Moonshine
Wishing for a time that never was

I'm waiting for a time
For truth to call
I'm waiting for a sign
To show me all
I'm waiting for my love

Moonshine
Drinking to a love that's gone on by
Moonshine
Look into the stars as cars go by

I'm waiting for a time
For truth to call
I'm waiting for a sign
To show me all
I'm waiting for my love

I'm waiting for a time
For truth to call
I'm waiting for a sign
To show me all
I'm waiting for my love
Waiting for my love
Waiting for my love

Moonshine
I'm waiting for a love that never comes


Kate Space isn't about you anymore, it's about me.

Let's see.

My weekend technically began on Wednesday because I had nothing to do at work the rest of the week.

Thursday night I joined Abi and Theresa for the Shakespeare Theatre's presentation of Henrik Ibsen's An Enemy of the People. It was fantastic and almost made me cry...but the theatre always almost makes me cry.

Friday, I went on another adventure with Theresa-bop. She had to do car work and ended up stuck with me for the evening...trip to the mall, dinner at Potbelly's, back to chez Koucheravy, then to Carl's house, and home.

Saturday I spent the day with Mallory. Had pho for lunch, then girl time, then back to the mall, although this time it was Tyson's, Fairfax for a while talking to Curtis and Carl about hard drives (I need one), and then crashed at home.

Sunday I visited my parents, did some laundry, and checked on the new kitten. She's gained a little weight and is getting used to the house. She loves her feather wand and plays with it for hours! Mom and Dad rigged up mom's old cross-stitching gazelle to hold the wand (like a c-clamp) whenever they get tired of playing with her, and she'll still go at it for hours!

Talked to my brother Danny. He wants me to take him to a "hardcore" show down in Springfield in mid-October. I'll be hanging out with him anyway b/c it's parents' weekend at VMI and I have to babysit the kitten (and Dan), but do I really want to go to this show? I told him we play by my rules.

Things I'd like to do, but never have.

There's a lot in the world that I haven't done or seen or have been a part of. Hopefully, in the next year, I can knock some of these out.

• Ride a horse.
• Visit New York City
  
• Learn to swim.
• Ski
• Go kayaking
• Spelunking
• Visit continental Europe
• Meet Mickey Mouse
• Visit a mountain with snow on top (may fall under skiing, but I've never seen the Rockies.)
  

That's all I can come up with for now.

We're so, like, cultured. OMG.

Theresa and Ibsen make me happy!

Theresa, Abi, and I are so there. Tonight. Will be awesome.

Early.

The sky was barely turning purple when I drove into work today. Knowing the sun is about to come up is comforting somehow; seeing deep magentas from the top of a deserted Seven Corners...and what? Do you hear that? That's nothing. That's driving inside the beltway at 6am. It's quiet; there's nothing but you, your vehicle, and the tick of the light when it turns green.

And your mug of coffee if you're lucky.

It's Official!

My family has decided to keep the kitten!

Well, actually, she's six months old! The vet told us this morning during her visit. She has all her adult teeth. Besides being malnourished, she may have come from a very young mother (small cats make smaller kittens?) She goes in to be spayed in about three weeks.



Danny named her Scribbles. And he won't let us change it.

Kitten.

I rescued a kitten from traffic today. No, really:



I was stopped at a red light in Gainesville when I saw something weaving in and out of the cars stopped in the opposite side of the road. The car next to me saw it too. I realized it was a kitten! When the light turned green we both pulled over into the center median. By that time a couple cars had run over the cat dead-center but the folks in the other car were able to stop the next car it was under (it had also climbed up into the car's underbelly). By the time I had run over, the kitten was back on the pavement and mewing so loudly, "Save me! Save me!" the car's driver picked her up and thanked us for stopping her. She was on the way to the airport and I said I'd gladly take the kitten. The cat started purring the second she was snug in my arms and knew she was going to be OK.

She rode in my lap purring and kneading my legs the whole way to my parents'. We fed her, bathed her, and made her at home. She's in good shape, she's a little underfed and only a couple whiskers and some fur singed from being under the car. Mom's taking her to the vet on Tuesday and if she gets along with our cat, Dizzy, they'll keep her. She's about 12 weeks old.

I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Graves and Swedes.

Yesterday, I volunteered for the first time at Rock Creek Park. BR picked me up and after meeting with the group at the ranger lodge, we headed down to Battleground National Cemetery to work our butts off.

Now, I'm not a big Civil War geek, but I had fun yesterday. We each cleaned one or two grave stones, lightly scrubbing and peeling back years upon years of dirt and moss, careful not to hurt the marble stone underneath. We could see the names again, of soldiers killed in the battle of Fort Stevens just up the road from us on Georgia Avenue-- Ellis, Richardson, Kennedy, Schlitzner-- faded, barely readable, but there. Boys 16, 18, 19 from New York, Maine, Pennsylvania, they were here.

We reset some of the headstones as well; dug up, hauled out, cleaned up, filled, reset to their two-foot height. Some stones had sunk so much that they were only eight inches above the ground. Some stones were double-struck, another name on the buried bottom of the stone, where the stone cutter/ingraver made a mistake, some were clean, the white marble shining up at us after the century of mud had been rinsed off.

Re-burying the stones became a huge task in itself. By the afternoon, our task-force had dwindled from forty to about ten people. A team of six reset the remaining headstones. We had a system and by 3p.m., we were done. Granted, we were dirty, sweaty, and our shoulders and legs hurt, but looking back at our work felt good. These fallen soldiers had their grave-site back after 140 years. We cleaned all 44 headstones and reset 19. We'll come back and do the rest on the next project.

BR took me home and I cleaned up, then we headed to Ashburn to pick up Cherie-- we were going to IKEA. BR took us the long way, we took White's Ferry across the Potomac. I didn't even know it existed! We got dinner at IKEA, but furniture-wise it was a bust since they didn't have what BR and Cherie wanted in stock. I, on the other hand, found a vase that works as a canister for my kitchen utensils! Yes! Finally!

We drove back through DC, listening to songs on XM's Soul Sounds channel that were full of innuendo. It was the end to a perfect day.

Old Friends.

Last night I met up with some old friends from Tulane for dinner in Georgetown. Wow, it was good to see them. Garrett and Luke I know from when I was in ROTC; Deborah and I had classes together with all the other freshman engineers. Conversation ranged from school, jobs, mutual friends, Nintendo, and Seinfeld. Excellent.

It was fun to pick up where we left off and chill out like old times.

By old times, I mean three years ago.

My Family.

We went to New Market, Virginia this weekend to see my brother James. My friend Theresa tagged along and snapped this one for us!

Farewell, Mr. Irwin.

This man loved what he did, and we appreciated that. Here.

Rainy.

Got sent home at 11am today; dropped the car off at Merchants for an alignment. My Rainy Day afternoon movie? Giant.


Perfect.