Holy cow, I can’t believe it’s already 2013. The new year has inspired a new me (as it always does until about February 1) and I’ve begun the process of redesigning my blog. Wait, that’s not true. I haven’t, but my good friend Maggie is doing a katmaund.com overhaul and I can’t wait to get everything up and looking sexy. She’s super talented and I can’t recommend her design skills enough – check her out here.

News!!!!!!

• I’ll be contributing to a hot mess of writers over at Pooping Rainbows on the 7th of every month, so go check it out! It’s a different style of writing than here…I’d say a little edgier, sexier, more honest and organic. Should be fun and will probably get me in trouble.
• I just finished up a big ole contract and have some availability for new clients. Know someone who needs social media consulting/set up/monitoring/responding? Send me an email and I’ll send you a bottle of wine for the recommendation.
• I ADOPTED A DOG!! Two of my lovely friends were forced to give up their beautiful rescue dog, Reece, for adoption so I drove down to southern California a few months ago and scooped her up. She enjoys eating the crotches out of underwear, chasing squirrels, and being the little spoon during nap time. You should come meet her!
• I acquired my mandolin from home and an Akai midi keyboard so 2013 will be filled with new beats, tunes, and dance parties. If you want to rock it on your spoons or have a profound understanding of beat boxing, let’s jam.

That’s all for today. Can’t wait to show off the new look!

Holy cow, people. What a whirlwind of a few weeks it’s been. Also, hi there! I’ve not forgotten you, sweet friends. My world has been getting rocked lately with all sorts of changes and schedule clutter, thus I’ve neglected my writing.

Sheesh, where to begin? Firstly, I lost my job a few weeks ago as a Content Marketing Specialist and within days (thanks to all the right connections and timing), I landed a Community Manager position at Instrument. This is the job I’ve been looking for since the day I graduated college – it’s what I’ve been preparing for since day 1 – and the type of company I’ve always dreamt of working for. I mean, we have a teepee as a teleconference room in the middle of our industrial warehouse office space. I’ve never been surrounded by so much creativity and innovation. I couldn’t begin to express the deep sense of gratitude that surges through me each day I walk in here.

I’ve taken about two and a half weeks off from Crossfit after a solid five months of training six days a week. I think I burned out a little bit both mentally and physically, and used to my schedule change to justify the time off. I currently feel unhealthy, sluggish and unmotivated, but so thankful I let my body and mind rest so that I can come back with a vengeance. I can’t wait to start throwing weights around and repring out a few pull-ups.

My spiritual life is taking me for a crazy ride. My mind is constantly being blown by new ideas, paradigm shifts, and the outpouring of love from unexpected supporters. I feel so blessed to have the capacity to question and battle with my beliefs and how they shape my life choices. I’m saturated with new philosophies and theories to explore and am looking forward to processing it all so that I can share my findings. What an exciting time it is!

I also moved into an adorable apartment in the Northeast part of Portland and I couldn’t be more thrilled with the space. It has the bones and character I’ve been looking for and it’s slowly but surely coming together thanks to my Pinterest addiction and inability to turn away from garage sales. Photos to come soon.

I vow to continue writing, to make time for it, to create a space where we can engage in honest dialogue. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

It happened. I met Tegan and Sara. The end.

Let me start from the beginning. On April 30th, 1987, my mother birthed a questionably adorable web-toed baby girl named Katherine Copeland Maund. Silent and wide-eyed I emerged from my mother’s womb contemplating how to spend the next 25 years manifesting a meeting between myself and my favorite musical twins. I spent the better part of those 25 years listening to bad pop, wearing overalls, and living in the south. Once my eyes were opened to all things not conservative whilst attending college in Vermont, I discovered the lesbian identical twin pop duo that is Tegan and Sara.

Obsessed is an aggressive term with a stigma attached, but if I had to describe my affinity for these ladies and their musical genius, obsessed is probably the most accurate. I mean, if the shoe fits…

ANYWAY. I caught wind last week (as in I stalk their Facebook page and Twitter feed incessantly) that T&S were putting on a private, invite-only show in Portland. I submitted my information along with a host of friends hoping that in the very least, one of us would win tickets. I then channeled “The Secret” and began manifesting those tickets INTO MY HANDS. Sadly, I did not receive an email that I had won tickets nor did any of my friends, but I knew deep down that where there is a will (like a really strong, obsessive one), there is a way.

I sat at my desk on Wednesday contemplating whether or not to just show up at the venue in hopes of getting in. I knew I would see them somehow. At 1:37 PM (approximately 23 minutes before the show started), I received a text from a really, really generous friend that she had gotten word about extra tickets and asked if I wanted to go in her place. My fingers fumbled over my keypad trying to text back a resounding YES as I began to sweat and tremble with excitement. I rushed to my car, sped way too quickly to the venue, finally found idiot parking, and walked in.

There they were, all cute and little and smiley and angsty playing to a crowd of no more than 50 people. After the show, we all lined up for photos and then it happened. I MET THEM. I mean I actually introduced myself with my name and everything, and they were all humble and introduced themselves too like I can’t tell the difference between them and don’t know that Sara’s jawline is more heart-shaped than Tegan’s and that Tegan has a new hair style but Sara has kept hers from the last tour because she likes it so much. We took a photo together and because my life was then made complete, I bolted out the door without saying “thank you” or “bye” or “great show!” It didn’t matter. I had accomplished a life goal.

So people, the power of manifestation is real!! It works! Don’t ever show this blog post to Tegan and Sara! Ever. Also, enjoy this video of their new single “Closer” off their album “Heartthrob” to be released in January.

Closer

Ever heard someone say they’re dating themselves? Yeah. Okay. I figured the underlying message was one of loneliness, that they couldn’t find love or were choosing not to pursue it because of past hurt. I didn’t realize at the time that dating yourself is like THE BEST THING EVER. Regardless of whether or not you’re in a relationship, taking time to romance the one and only person that will never leave you is essential. No, it’s absolutely imperative.

So what does dating yourself look like? For me, it really is one of the most romantic things I do each week. Sometimes I light candles, turn on some Miles Davis, have a glass (or bottle) of really nice Cabernet, and cook myself a 4-course meal. Other times I’ll put on my little black dress and treat myself to a new restaurant I’ve been meaning to try before enjoying a solo evening at the symphony. If I’m feeling more adventurous, I go on a day hike and enjoy a picnic at the summit. Though I’m rather extroverted and gregarious to a fault, I cherish these moments I get to spend alone because it reminds me that I am happy. Alone.

Don’t get me wrong; wining and dining with a lover is a beautiful thing. Candlelit conversation, sensual touches across the table, and savoring the last bite of dessert together is an experience I want to have every week for a lifetime. I live for these moments! But there’s something very telling about a person who can actually enjoy their own company. Just as spending quality time with a lover is essential to grow your relationship, spending quality time with yourself is equally as important. If you can’t spend time with yourself, why would you assume someone else would want to?

That said, your self-dating should not be fueled by the desire to be desired. That will happen organically as you come to know and love yourself more. Just focus on getting to know you better. I’ve been romancing myself consistently for almost 6 months now and it has been incredibly rewarding. Oh, and I get asked on dates pretty much every day, like all the time. (That’s not true but it could totally happen to you, and that sounds like lots of fun.)

What are you going to do this week to romance the hell out of yourself?  Me-date ideas always welcome!

My dad is a preacher from Augusta, Georgia and my mom is well…a preacher’s wife. They’re a lot more than that also, like the coolest parents in the world, but when I got my first tattoo (a Jesus fish on my wrist), I thought my mom was going to have an aneurism. I cried when I told them because I was so scared. I even wore a bracelet over the tattoo the entire weekend they visited me at college until it finally came out in a blubbering, trembling mess. My dad laughed at my dramatic display. My mom was irritated at best.

That was 2005, and seven tattoos later…whoops, don’t think they know about one or two of those…I think they’ve lightened up a bit on the idea. My family would say, “better a Jesus tattoo than a ring in your nose!” I have one of those, too. Maybe they just aren’t used to it. It’s not particularly southern of me.

What is it about tattoos that make people uncomfortable? I can’t seem to elucidate this thought process. Is it the permanence that intimidates people? Is it just an act of rebellion or ignorant expression? Most of our generation is a lot more comfortable with them because they’re part of our culture, especially if you live in a city like Portland. But why do parents care so much that you’ve permanently inked your skin?

My friends often ask me about my tattoos, what they mean, and how I feel about their permanence. To me, my tattoos represent a permanent reminder of a sometimes temporary feeling. For instance, I have a tattoo on my foot that is so lame and ugly and embarrassingly hackneyed, but I love what it means to me because it reminds me of the day I got it. It was a beautiful summer morning in Burlington, Vermont spent at the farmers market, strolling along Church Street, when all was right in my life. I never want to forget that day and how good life looked on me. I also have a lotus flower on my side that I got in Italy as a symbol of growth and strength after losing a few friends to untimely deaths. Though I don’t struggle with the sadness the way I did then, it is a permanent reminder of how precious the gift of life is and to never stop growing and learning.

So parents, lighten up a little bit. Your kids getting inked up isn’t usually an act of rebellion, just a modern way of self-expression. I’ll be a really happy parent one day if my kids express themselves with tattoos instead of multiple, nonemotional one-night stands or some other negative act of self-expression that makes parents queasy.

Am I preaching to the choir?

There’s been lots of talk about the “pending” apocalypse lately not only in the news, but among my friends. Whether induced by zombies, mass destruction, or just straight-up-end-of-the-world-sh*t, I totally want to be prepared. I mean, I don’t necessarily want to be the star of “I Am Legend 2″ and wander the earth alone with my dog (mostly because I don’t have a dog yet and if I did, I doubt I would be fortunate enough to have an awesomely strong dog like a pitbull and being alone is lonely and boring), but I’d sure like to survive with a group of my super fit and knowledgable friends.

If there were apocalyptic forebodings, I would immediately grab my iPhone (because who doesn’t want to Instagram that stuff?!) and run/drive/crawl to my CrossFit box. We’ve made a pact that we will all take refuge in the gym…and in the company of Herculean muscles and gun handling skills…and sweaty, scantily-clad fitness goddesses…and…

Sorry. Anyway. Not that I think about the apocalypse too much because I’m pumped on the after life I have in mind, but if it were to occur, would I survive? I mean, do I have the necessary skills to fight zombies or dodge fireballs or whatever? Like, I don’t even know how to tie a butterfly knot and I would be the idiot that burned rhododendron wood for fire and would smoke-poison everyone. I mean, I can do a few pull-ups so maybe I could climb a tree pretty well? Are there flying monkeys involved? These questions gnaw at me.

At CrossFit, we “train for chaos.” We *hopefully* get really strong and fast and train for all sorts of random stuff by flipping tires and climbing ropes and carrying people. That’s all well and good, but what about knife skills and archery? Oh to be Katniss Everdeen at a time like this! What about hunting and making fish hooks out of toenails and other super important survival-y things? I need these skills!

What’s your apocalypse plan? Where will you go and what skills and techniques can you offer? More importantly, when can you teach me?

Dear Dad,

When you were young getting in trouble for smoking cigarettes and beating up on your younger brothers, I bet you never imagined you’d raise one of your own just like you. I bet you had no idea that your children would look to you as the example of how men treat women and how to work and play. When you were little, I bet you never thought that you would be anyone’s hero.

You’re a real hero, Daddy. You’re my hero.

I remember laying in bed with you when I was nine years old after we said our nightly prayers, my pink comforter pulled up to my chin. My head rested lightly on your chest and we sat in silence while I listened to your big heart beat. I looked up at you, told you I loved you very matter-of-factly, and went back to analyzing your pulse. You sniffed, said “I love you, too,” and wiped your cheek. You were crying, and I had never seen you cry. I don’t know what was different about that time as opposed to all the other times I told you I love you. Doesn’t matter. At nine years old, I decided I had never met anyone who would love me more than you could.

From that day on I watched your every move and listened to every word you said. I watched how you would sneak up behind Mom and tickle her, the vein in your forehead swelling with the anticipation of a swift smack on the arm from a seemingly displeased wife. (Between you and I, she totally loves it.) Or how you would squat down in front of the fridge, knees cracking, and say “Aw shux!” when you realized we were out of milk. Or how you would always turn off the lawnmower to greet a neighbor. More than that, I watched the way you disciplined us in love, the way you preached with such heartfelt conviction, the way you handled business with the utmost integrity.

I know I was young and couldn’t make sense of my fascination. Now I’m a little older. Now I understand the importance of the life you live each day and how it has directly resulted in the life I strive to live now. No one is perfect, but your honesty, compassion, conviction, encouragement, gentleness and discipline have given me the foundation I need to become an adult just like you. A hero.

My gratitude grows deeper each day and I’m constantly at a loss of words as to how I can express my thankfulness. I know no better way than to write you a letter emulating the 25 years of birthday letters you wrote to me, never failing. I love you and respect you immensely. Thank you for leading me to live the best life I can.

All my love and adoration,

Katherine

I have lots of friends, all kinds, all styles. You probably do too. And if you don’t, I’m sure it’s because your cats REALLY DO keep you company and your mom’s home-cooking is too good to pass up when you smell it wafting from the kitchen in your attic apartment. No judgment here. My mom makes really good enchiladas.

Because it’s math…and science and stuff…that we all need friends, here are 5 ways to be a better friend. Don’t worry, I’m preaching to myself as well.

1. Be honest. There’s nothing worse than a friend who lies to you, even if it’s little white lies to get out of plans or avoid confrontation, it’s still not the truth. If you have to break plans, explain why. If you have self-esteem issues and feel like you have to lie to your friends because you’re embarrassed about them judging you, stop. Just stop. They’re your friends. They love you no matter what and want the best for you. Trust is one of the most essential characteristics of a healthy relationship.

2. Listen. I have trouble doing this sometimes because I like to tell stories. When I say listen, I mean really, really listen. Put down your phone, make eye contact, don’t interrupt with a one-up story or anecdote, and make sure your body language suggests you really hear them. Ask questions, engage, and be there. Sometimes it isn’t necessary to talk at all.

3. Make time. No matter where your friends live in the world, make time for them. Whether it’s setting a weekly skype date (my friend Crystal and I did a skype happy hour) or going on a hike together, it’s important to spend time together. That’s how you bond, get to know each other better, and show that you care.

4. Laugh. Hands down, my favorite part of having friends. Laughter is the best medicine. I have friends that fulfill lots of different needs, but they all make me laugh. There’s nothing more satisfying than gut-busting howling among friends that will keep you giggling for weeks.

5. Reciprocate. Not only is it important to give generously in a friendship, but make sure that how you give is appropriate. For instance, my friend Jeff used to detail my car when I would go out of town and to this day, it is one of my favorite, most meaningful gifts from a friend. I wouldn’t do the same to reciprocate because he LOVES to do that himself and would probably be ticked I touched his car at all. (I love your OCD, Jeff.) Instead, making a big meal and drinking wine together while watching Seinfeld was probably a much better way to show I care.

How do you show your friends that you care? What are the most important qualities in a friend?

Death is a part of life that we’re faced with each and every day, all around us. We feel the sting of fallen soldiers, tragic car accidents, children too young, etc. I’ve lost many people in my life to disease, accidents, murder, suicide, and old age…and no matter how many people go, it never gets easier to swallow.

During the past few weeks a childhood friend from home drowned, a colleague/mentor/friend from my college died of a sudden heart attack, and a friend’s fiance drowned during his daughter’s birthday party. All of them, tragic.

We get hung up on the effects of mortality. I will miss this person so much or How will I continue living without a mother/brother/wife/son? We ache over their absence and hurt for those they left behind.

Fortunately, no death goes without a silver lining. In my experience, more good has come out of every death than bad. Take a look at the beautiful and awesome things that are happening because beautiful and awesome people passed on. It fills my heart with joy and light in the midst of the mourning.

For Jesse Harl, Hopi’s James’ fiance: “Our dear friend, Hopi James, recently suffered the tragic loss of her fiance, Jesse Harl, in a drowning accident in Fairfield on July 12, 2012. In planning for their future Hopi, a full time nursing student, incurred substantial dept and depleted her school funds investing in equipment and a work vehicle to support Jesse’s dream of providing for them with his own company. Jesse made a commitment to Hopi to replenish her school funds by the end of September. Jesse’s sudden and untimely death left his goal unmet and Hopi both heartbroken and at risk of having to postpone her plans to complete school. THIS CAN NOT HAPPEN!! We, as a community, must come together and lend a helping hand to sweet Hopi during this most dire time of need. CLICK HERE to get involved and make a difference!!”

In memory of Deana Higgs-Gordon: Deana and I worked together in the Office of Admission at Champlain College all throughout my time there. She was an absolute joy to be around, full of life, and never let you pass her by without an energetic wave and a high-pitched “Hii!” She loved Champlain and was dedicated to its success. Please consider a donation to the Deana Higgs-Gordon Scholarship Fund for students in need. The donation can be sent to Champlain College, to the attn. of Kristi Jovell, 246 South Willard St., Burlington, VT 05401. Read her full obituary here.

Rebecca Hagler: I grew up with Rebecca, her younger sister, and her older brother living just a block away. We rode the school bus together, played on the playground together, and talked a lot about our faith. That’s what I remember most about Rebecca: her unwavering faith. She was one of the most generous, steadfast, genuine, and intentional people I’ve ever met and never let an opportunity pass to talk about how great our God is. With that said, her family asks that memorial contributions be made to Young Life at 2249 Walton Way, Augusta, GA 30904. Read her full obituary here.

We all feel overwhelmed with life sometimes. No matter the circumstances – too busy, negative events, a breakup, work drama, pure exhaustion, etc. – we all need a safe place to go, clear our heads, and feel every feeling. I was telling my friend Grace about how I need a quick getaway to be alone with my thoughts, find that quiet place I haven’t had. She reminded me that it’s good I need the time because my life is FULL now…full of friends, adventures, work, and love.

Even those are all good things, it’s important to take time to check in with yourself and make sure things are what they seem. On the outside, I am living a full life indeed, but there’s inner turmoil that needs to be meditated on. Alone. Quietly.

I’ve had numerous “sanctuaries” over the course of my life. The beach, the porch at our mountain house, sometimes the gym, the creek in my old neighborhood, and the literal sanctuary at my church in Georgia when the congregation cleared out. I go to those places and journal, play my guitar and sing my heart out, meditate, or sit in complete silence until it becomes deafening. I turn off my phone, leave my computer at home, and the only music I listen to is the music I make.

I haven’t found that place in Portland yet, but I’m sure a night alone at the coast or in the Gorge would be a good first step to finding it. There’s something about the salt and grit of the beach or being at the top of the mountain that makes me feel whole again.

What do you do to clear your head, get away? Where is your sanctuary?