Every day it seems the world spins a little bit faster. Each month, each year, it seems to pick up the pace, running at a speed that the best training plan couldn’t prepare you for. Each moment feels like a grain of sand I’m planning to pick up and watching slip through my fingers at once. … More Finding Pause
A little over a year ago I was in a bar celebrating the French Rugby team’s qualification for the 2016 Summer Olympics. It was monumental. Rugby 7s had never before been an olympic sport, and the French team had never set foot in an olympic arena. On the evening that I celebrated France’s qualification for the games, I celebrated … More The Olympian from Afar
I can’t stop smiling. It’s past 8pm and the sun still hasn’t set, the birds are still out chirping, and all I see out the window of my little apartment is green. Green on the trees, green spattering the ground, even a little green growing on the buildings. My suitcase stares at me ominously from the … More Sprung
Right now, I feel more myself than I have in a long time. Over the course of the past year, I have often found myself struggling with a sense of who I am in the context of different environments. I’ve been somewhat identified by my “background.” I’m Kate from Houston, Texas; Kate the American; Kate who is half … More A Cross Cultural Identity Crisis
Sometimes I try to remember what it felt like the first time I made a friend. The furthest back I can remember using the term “best friend” I think was when I told my parents and anybody who asked that a little girl I spent all my time running around and holding hands with in my first pre-school … More Making Friends on the Playground
Over the weekend my roommate was out of town, and for the first time since I’ve lived in this apartment, I was left home alone. When she reminded me last Thursday before she left that she wouldn’t be home until Tuesday, I felt that tiny, horrible bubble that rises in my stomach to signal the … More I’m a Close Friend of Mine
Big Rose is the affectionate (or, at times, not so affectionate) nickname of the backpack I travel with. She’s a violent/rose shade, hence the nickname, and about two and a half feet tall and one foot wide on a good day. On a bad day, when my pockets are empty but my backpack is full of … More Two Weeks, Two Continents, and a Lesson on Sharing
The past week has provided a whirlwind of activity I never even dreamed was possible until it was happening. I write currently from the seat of a Norweigan Airlines flight (which I highly recommend for both cost and convenience) from Stockholm to Paris, after setting foot in 4 different countries in one week. In all … More Written In the Sky: Part One – Montenegro
A good number of French people have a hard time saying my name. I tell them my name is Kate, and they repeat “Kay-tuh,” almost a two syllable name, which sounds funny in comparison to my singular American syllable. The lady at Starbucks spells it “Kathe.” I say it to strangers as I kiss them on … More I Am a French Child
The apartment smells like freshly brewed coffee. The smell infiltrates every corner of my new little apartment, seeping out of the French press I left on the counter and the cup that sits next to me on the table. Sunlight is streaming in the window, despite the floaty, thin, white curtains that hang loosely to the … More Falling in Love with Paris All Over Again
The Transition Artist 