That’s So Catherine

cat soccerNow, this is a story all about how

Her life got flipped, turned upside down

And she’d like to take a minute

Just sit right there

She’ll tell you how she became the prince of a town called…Ann Arbor? Ha. She wishes.

Born on April 28th 1995, Catherine Louise Livingston grew up in Rye, NY with her mother, father and two brothers. She currently resides in Ann Arbor as a directionless student at The University of Michigan. She was named after Catherine of Wuthering Heights, but alas, has yet to find her Heathcliff *sigh*. A former 3 sport athlete, she now occasionally frequents the Central Campus Recreational Building when she can muster the willpower. Nothing brings her more joy than her two dogs, Duke and Blue. She cannot go longer than a month without shopping and her ultimate weakness is York peppermint patties. If she could live a day in the life of anyone it would be JLaw, hands down. *That’s So Raven voice* Yep, that’s me!!!!

Blue

Blue was the color my childhood bedroom was supposed to be.

I was three when my family moved out of our Manhattan apartment and into our current suburban Long Island home. In comparison to my crowded bedroom overlooking 86th street, my new, spacious bedroom felt like my very own castle. I was at the peak of my princess phase, after all. I wore tiaras, carried a wand, and refused to respond to any name other than Cinderella. For this, it was no shock to my mom that when given a choice of wall color, I chose pink without hesitation. My mom is an artist, and thus took it upon herself to create the most beautiful walls a young princess could ask for: sponge painted pink complete with a delicate daisy vine trim. It was perfect- for a three year old, that is.

As I grew old, so did my pink walls. Around the age of ten, I entered into my tomboy phase. I played basketball, wore baggy clothing, and loathed anything pink. I remember heated arguments with my mom, begging her to change the color of my walls. I felt like an outsider in the one room I could call my own. Eventually my mom gave in, but under one condition: the daisy trim had to stay.

I remember weeks spent sleeping on an air mattress in my unfurnished, unfinished room. After moving all my furniture into storage, my mom single-handedly re-sponged painted my walls, pressing blue paint over the pink. She worked meticulously and diligently, making sure the daisy trim remained untouched by the blue coloring. Finally, after weeks of work, my mom and I stood back and observed the final product. My walls, once princess pink, were finally…

…purple.

The blue paint had mixed with its pink base to form a pale purple color. I still wonder to this day how we failed to notice the mixing of the colors during the month-long painting process. Although I still wanted blue walls, my mom didn’t care. She was not about to spend another month painting my walls for a third time. Anyway, she considered the paint job a success: along the edges of my new purple walls, remained the original delicate, daisy vine trim.