10 Years Later- No Requiem for Rivers

Author’s note:

The last time I sat down to try and write this, the world looked a lot different than it does now. Before a global pandemic, I felt more comfortable being angry at the last ten years. I don’t feel that way anymore. I had so much writer’s block, which I can’t even blame the pandemic for. It’s been on and off since the last time we were all together. You guys broke me open, though. You always do. Despite the current status of our personal relationships, know that I’m out here wishing you and your families well and hoping for a brighter day for us all. Ten years later, and I won’t stop believing. 

~Katie Bennett, June 4, 2020

Continue reading

I Put Myself Back in the Narrative

BlogHeadshot

Hi, I’m Katie.

And if you’re reading this blog post, you already know that. According to the table of contents page that some past version of me has meticulously crafted, there are at least 60 posts that I’ve shared here since this blog was created 9 years ago. I don’t even know if any of them are good {and many of them are likely to be bad}. I’m not certain if I’ll read back through them partially because I’m wound-adverse and partially because at least one will be cringey.

I have had an on-and-off love affair with blogging since I started at Duquesne University, and an infatuation with writing since long before then.

While I can’t promise to be consistent because that seems to be something I continually grapple with in my identity as a writer, I do intend to “put myself back in the narrative” and reacquaint myself with this undeniable aspect of who I am.

Continue reading

On Hometowns and Heroes- Remembering Bill Campbell

KBSalutatorian

There are certain memories that stick out in Technicolor against the hazy grey of misremembrance- people, places, conversations all eventually fade into some sort of cerebral abyss, but snapshots of importance can be recalled as well in 30 years as though they had been experienced in just the previous 30 seconds.

I have a memory like this. I was 18, and we were in the final week of preparation before my debut as the Mayoress Cora Hoover Hooper in Steel Valley Senior High School’s production of Anyone Can Whistle. I was just days away from committing to The University of Pittsburgh’s main campus (thank you very much) to study biology with an emphasis on pre-medicine. As we had dinner, my parents, Kelly, Spikey and I, my mother offered to play me a voicemail on our now-obsolete landline’s answering machine.

As we ate the meal my mother had prepared for us, I heard the voice of an admissions advisor, informing us that I’d been awarded a golden ticket- formally known as the William V. Campbell Family Endowed Scholarship, and that it was redeemable for four years of undergraduate education at Duquesne University: tuition free.

I did what most teenagers would in this situation. I bowed my head over my mother’s cooking and I burst into tears. That was the very first action of an incredible life-changing journey, one that I’ll be on until, well, I’m not.

From a genesis at a kitchen table in Munhall, Pennsylvania, I would go on to graduate from Duquesne University with a 4.0 GPA, two degrees (English and Public Relations, go figure), and a one-way bus ticket to employment in New York City. I am quite simply living my dream, the one I’d imagined in that frilly pink bedroom at an age that’s decidedly too young to be making that kind of decision. Bossy, loud, and incessant- I’d tell anyone who would listen about that dream: I’m going to get out of here, you know. I’m going to leave the Steel Valley, and I’m never coming back.

Continue reading

And. And. And. On Autumn and 24th Birthdays

For the past several years, I’ve written on or around my birthday to reflect on the year that has past. This year, I’ve been putting it off. Because there’s a lot to say about a hard year. A bad year.

Struggles make us grow, so I don’t think that any hard year is ever unnecessary. This one was hard for lots of reasons. The first year away from my family. The first year of my career. The first with all this responsibility. Of what finally feels like actual adulthood.

Continue reading

Always Starting Over

I am well aware that the title of this blog is a bit of a misnomer.  It’s not even close to being a daily.  Hell, it hasn’t even been a monthly since last October.  It’s sort of been a vestige of my former self– a tribute to a life that I no longer lead, and haven’t led in quite some time.  I stopped writing when I no longer wanted to know myself.  When I no longer wanted to be intimately familiar with my thoughts and feelings– when I realized that I romanticize the people in my life to the extent that the way I view them is not the way that they actually are, but the way I believe they should be– a way that they never intended.

Continue reading