The Love Rollercoaster

I have an amazing cousin.  Actually, I'm blessed with a lot of amazing cousins.  On one side of my family, I am the second oldest of 14 cousins, edged out only by my sister.

A couple of years ago, I was forced to admit that one of my younger cousin's is officially cooler than me.  (This is probably true about most of my cousins and isn't that hard to be). It's an upsetting blow to any "older" family member, especially an unnecessarily competitive one like me.

But she's sort of my spirit animal.  She finds cool music and stays up way too late and loves comedy that's not on TV yet and makes cool headpieces out of t-shirts when we are at the beach and would rather do cool "New Yorker things" than "New York things" when she comes to visit.  Thankfully, I have a few years on her, so I can play the older-and-wiser card, if I am forced to lose the "older-and-cooler" one.  Every day she's gaining on me there, too.

In one of our million 2 a.m. conversations, we were discussing relationships and our strict criteria for the men who enter our lives.

They are:
1) Cannot be named D***
2) Must love rollercoasters

I HATE writing about relationships, not because I'm some dark and twisty soul who thinks love is dead, but because whatever is learned from relationships is probably a lesson about yourself, and can be applied everywhere in life.  That's kind of more my jam.  But the scoreboard says that these are my most popular posts, and I am a woman of the people.  It's like that scene in A League of Their Own when Jimmy Dugan/Tom Hanks tells his players to hurry up because "dozens of people are waiting to see you play."  I have to give my dozens of readers what they want.  But I can't date Jimmy Dugan because he's an alcoholic.  And ficitonal.

The point is you all want me to be something I'm not, so I'm selling out and giving you a Carrie Bradshaw rundown of dating in your mid-20s in NYC with the aforementioned criteria of not being named D***, not being an alcoholic, and loving rollercoasters.

These may not seem like the most sound criteria, and it surprises me how many people ask for my relationship feedback when I haven't been in a relationship in quite a while.  Granted there's been an intense "focus on me" period that every 20 something is obligated to go through, but I guess I've picked up some relationship trends by watching from the stands.

I went speed-dating with my stupid sister who signed us up for it without asking me if I was available or if I wanted to do it.  The answer to both of those questions is no, but we did anyway.  For some reason, we were both trepidatious on the cab ride over with our hearts already racing before any suitors had a chance.

"We can get out and split a cake instead" I said to my sister, completely not at all joking in any way, shape, or form.

But we did it, and I'm glad we did.  How was I so nervous going into something I was completely close-minded to and had no expectations for?  These fears were quickly squelched when I remembered that they were just as scared as me, were just other human beings, and that I didn't actually give a shit about the outcome.

It's funny that just by sitting there and having a different conversation every four minutes (or really the same conversation every four minutes with different people) that I felt like I'd accomplished something.  Entering it, my best case scenario was that I'd walk away not interested in anyone that I met, but feeling as if my guard was low enough that I'd have as authentic of a conversation as possible, and that's exactly what happened.  I wasn't pleasantly surprised by a spark with anybody, but that's okay.  It reinforced my belief that my no-name, no-crippling-addiction, must-love-rollercoasters criteria are so open for a reason.

I'm attracted to someone's energy more than a "type."  I have no doubt that a lot of these guys will make for a great Prince Charming for somebody, take them out to great dinners and fit all of the attributes on their roller-coaster neutral check list.  But I've dated mohawked musicians to finance boys in jeans that cost more than my last paycheck.  I don't have a check list.  (Except it really helps if they're taller than me).

I guess that's why I never committed to online dating, in collaboration with the fact that I'd rather be single and wait for the right guy than be coupled with any guy kind of girl.  Some people are looking for a perfect handy man who provides financial stability and wants the 2-and-a-half kids and a mini-van life.  But I really just want an adventure buddy to laugh with. Of course, I want to be grounded enough to be serious, and I'm not so independent that there's no point in having another person around, but my default is fun and silly.  This was not available in a sea of Young Professionals Speed-daters.  They wanted to discuss what they do outside of their uninspired 9-to-5s and what part of New York City I live in and what my ideal date is.

The truth is, my ideal date would be to go to the Central Park boathouse, but if I'd gone with any of these guys, I'd be looking to jump into the water to get away and/or make it exciting.  I guess that's part of where my closed-mindedness started.  I'd rather be on date 3 at the boathouse, or date 5 watching bad TV in my sweats and eating take out than on date 1 talking about how your finance job pays the bills, but is burning you out.  Some even refused to talk about work, which not only totally made me think they were in the mob or porn industry, but is really hard--neigh--impossible when my job feels borderline vocational.

I doubt most people go into speed-dating looking for confirmation instead of a date, but I'm glad that it verified my odd and limited checklist.  My sister can sign me up for that awareness any day.

Now a few speed dating tips:
1) Don't take off your name tag and say it's because "you're a rebel like that."
2) Don't try to woo me with your Spanish guitar skills and ask if "you can buy me a drink and get out of here."
3) Don't bring up porn, even if the connection is that your sister did an off off broadway gig with a porn star and we're talking about "art."
4) Don't speak so quietly I can't hear a word you're saying.
5) Don't refer to the tram between Roosevelt Island and Manhattan as a "magic carpet/magic box."
6) Don't tell me the WWE is stupid.  I already know it is and I love it anyway.
7) Don't be named D***. (See above)
8) Don't tell me we "aren't going to talk about THOSE things that everyone else is."  Of COURSE we are.  This is awkward as hell.
9) Don't be a Red Sox fan.  That's just a tip about life, really.
10) Don't tell me you're "on break" with someone.

A word about number 10.  What the HELL does "on break" mean?  You're either dating someone or you are not dating someone.  Those are the only two things that are real.  I hate "on break" because 87% of the time it's just postponing a break up because you're both in denial that it isn't working out when "you're just so right for eachother."  Unfortunately love, like most of life, is a decision and a circumstance.  You can decide who is right for you (see rollercoaster preference), but their preferences, timing, fate, etc., may not fall into the delicate balance that looks so stubbornly right in the picture you've made, or stalked on the two of you on Facebook.

Here's the thing about being "on break."  It's a power struggle, intentionally or otherwise.  One person didn't want to be "broken up with temporarily or maybe forever," so they're stuck pacing back and forth between the friend zone and "someday," (which may never come) while the heartbreaker is off "working on themselves" and "just having fun with their friends" and "probably sleeping with other people and debating whether or not to tell you about it."

Rarely when a couple is on break are they actually working on the issues within themselves or their relationship, and if they are, they aren't "breaking" for shit.  The real kicker is, that usually the person who called for this break is stewing whatever complicated circumstances they created so that they had "something to get away from."

Let this person go.  The masochism of "hanging in there to see if it works out" is overpowering the fact that they are disrespecting you, even if you agreed to it, and frankly, if you're looking for a rest-of-your-life person, the circumstances are just going to get harder.  If they have one foot out the door already, you may want to close it for them, because they'll be sprinting for the streets when what lays ahead arrives.

Ask couples who have been married for over a decade how many breaks they've had, and how many they've felt like they needed.

Just remember, you're probably worth staying for.  I mean, do they even like rollercoasters?

-k

"i can draw a line between, who i am and what i've seen"

...but it's still just as dark at night.
                                   -Bryan Fenkart, My Prayer

the other day i denied the dreaded "facebook friend request" from an ex-whatever, who for far too long was The Guy I Couldn't Get Over.  just over a year ago, i received the same request from the same Guy I Couldn't Get Over, and  a rare moment of strength spiked like an irregular heartbeat over my steady pulse of weakness for him, and i denied him then as well.

but a year ago, for whatever reason, i felt compelled to relieve him of whatever guilt he was carrying around, even though these attempts were and are born out of manipulation and mind games rather than his genuine interest in my clever status updates and WWE YouTube links. 

or maybe it is genuine.  but our virtual friendship was just a toxic crack into our immature, nonexistent real life relationship, maintaining our affinity for unhealthy habits we excuse away with the stupidity of our twenty somethings, not knowing how to navigate the uncharted Age of Technology--an age which betrayed me by unblocking him when I switched to Facebook's "Timeline" format.

regardless of virtual profiles and ethermessages, he's mostly likely reaching out to me in an attempt, consciously or subconsciously, to sabotage his relationship with his current girlfriend, who he already cheats on, so that he can drown in the deep end of the pain inflicted by his broken engagement.  and with a painful goodbye to an innocent girl who caught on too late, he will wonder why oh why he took the dive in the first place.  there was a time when I was sympathetic to this once, and for far too long, but this pain manifested itself into brief spurts of torture victimizing me and whatever cute girl may have caught his attention in his Hoboken shithome pub. my threshold has far been broken.

despite my thorough and most likely upsettingly accurate analysis of his current state, based on our 0 interactions in the past year, it is no longer my concern.   i'm done listening to whispers of his heart on his sleeve; of pretending our surface flirtations haven't seen far deeper realities; of challenging him to be a better man at the sacrifice of myself.

so, the girl that just a year ago was apologizing for her inability to resist him and wistfully singing along every Dave Matthews that my iTunes seemingly not-so-randomly shuffled now blares Lelia Broussard's finest tunes (Masquerade, Something True, You're Not Fooling Anyone), with a confident strut into her new life, no longer looking back at the guy who needed his fix and little girl who once supplied him.  the needle no longer stabs both ways, feeding my veins with poison disguised as love's complications.  my blood pumps only with positivity and strength.  he wears wounds older than my scars, picking at them with sharpened nails of nostalgia and what could have been.

the girl who was once pathetic over The Guy now finds The Guy...well, pathetic.

i'd never seen him as pathetic before, and though this term seems harsh, i mean it with it's definition, not condescension, though allowing myself the anger i deserve is cathartic.  looking at all experiences through the filters of who you've grown into reveal so much about the decisions that you made in the past.  they can color in silver linings and true colors, and even if they clash, the wisdom gained is it's own value.

i don't want to be with someone who chooses suffering over healing, who creates their own pain through mistakes that they know they are making, who won't address his Achilles heel, and creates his own tennis elbow.  it once felt so stubbornly right, and now i could not be convinced there is anything more wrong (okay, maybe like evil dictators and felons and stuff).  and for so long i thought the pieces would fit if i could just smooth out what was rough around my edges.

it's important to reexamine keystones of our lives when we can do so with understanding and compassion for who we were and shed the masochism that comes what was once such a defining pain.

Facebook is just tomorrow's MySpace anyway.  (please go like this on Facebook).

-k.

"i look up--on my knees, and out of luck--i look up"

i hate the phrase don't sweat the small stuff.  it doesn't acknowledge that if you don't tend to some "small stuff," it will snowball into "big stuff."  it also ignores that there's some big stuff you can't really sweat other, because there is simply nothing you can do about it. and, sweating is really gross.

the war never seems to change; a constant fight between what's in your control versus what is not in your control.  it's fueled by battles on two fronts.  one fight is to maintain relationships to the best of your ability without being your own casualty.  the other is to figure out an attack plan at what is thrown your way by God/the universe.  they are violent, vicious, and unrelenting battles that often grow hot at the same time.  oddly enough, it's usually when you're out of ammo and you're armor has worn thin that you're on the verge of victories.

lessons in surrendering and self-prioritizing are never easy lessons to learn, but they often go in tandem.  maybe it's the world's way of ripping off the band-aid at once rather than rehashing such a similar pain that disguises itself in different characters.  if you're self-prioritizing, you likely won't be clinging to a relationship or life disruption that you can't let go of.  when you're what's being magnified by the glass, the rest of the world's distortion is a lot smaller.  the glimpses you catch of something greater will appear distant enough that they look like someone else's problem, and probably someone else a lot greater than you.  this doesn't mean that you should dodge what's falling. then instead of getting hit with a cold snow drift, brought upon by whipping winds and brutal cold, you get hit with a piano or anvil like in old cartoons. you aren't roadrunner. you can't outrun life. but if you're asking the question "why is this happening?," know that there is an answer, but you probably don't have it.

don't hiss at what's in front of you and slither between grounds of self-respect and fear.  if something bites, you can bite back, or at the very least, keep the venom out of your veins.

-k.

you fall apart again, and you can't find a friend

don't turn to someone else, cause they won't understand, i don't wanna hear you say, that you miss yesterday, if you don't like what you see, that means nothing to me.
-Fall Apart Again, Brandi Carlile

my dad was late to his own wedding because he and his fellow groomsmen were listening to Steve Martin's comedy album while getting ready.  i guess this is why i'm often late to things and why i have a crush on Steve Martin.
in his book, Steve Martin writes about mastering the concept of tension and release. through experience and psychology courses, he learned that the greater you build the tension, the greater the comedic payoff when the punchline releases a joke. this drove his comedy career, cementing his place as a defining father of stand-up comedy, a growing and changing art.
tension and release is also identified in music. one of my favorite examples is Brandi Carlile's "Pride and Joy." it's absurdly evident in the live version, that you can see here.  music's greatest catharsis is when a song's arrangement changes from tension to release. this is a song's pinnacle.  often, the lyrics correspond accordingly, setting free all that you're emotions and the song built.

life's most clarifying moments yield from tension and release as well.  often times, you have to create your own release, because circumstances are out of your control. as other people draw unexpected lines, or cross lines that you made clear, it may change how you color them in.  these lines often get drawn into a question mark.  these transitions, which tend to layer themselves with the little hells that life naturally drops on us, are trials in independence.  it is undoubtedly painful to when you discover that the priorities of a relationship no longer match. maybe they were mismatched all along, but the revelation can leave you feeling like a fool.  but, it can also cultivate independence.

you are your safest bet.  sometimes these changes are simply reminders of that.  you have to be able to sit still with yourself.  you take back the alone time you were sacrificing; you make safe all those sanctuaries that you once thought sharing added value to.  in the interest of self-respect, you have to follow through on the demands you made from the beginning, no matter how badly you want the other person to be able to have their cake and eat it, too.  this is natural, because if someone had the power to hurt you, you probably care about them.  if you set a threshold that someone else breaks, you're still left with a mess, but the relieving part is that you get to choose how you clean it up.  when damage is done, don't expect someone else to try and heal you, nor do you owe it to them to try so hard to make things "right," or atleast what was your previous definition of right.  all that's left is to learn.  to be your own phoneix and rise by yourself from the fiery ash of a shared how-things-were. 

i've never done well when i knew the people i cared about most were squirming.  it interferes with my own happiness.  but maybe new-found boundaries can allow you to create your own happiness free from others desires. when your mind is shifting with everything else, you have to look inward.  you can never get away from who you are, even when you want to, so you might as well make sure you'll never let yourself down. others always will, and maybe that's not as depressing as it sounds.  maybe it makes sure we will follow through on who we are.

there is a difference between being guarded and having a strong and healthy relationship with yourself.  it's also the easiest relationship to sacrifice, because by definition it will always be there in some respect.  you still have to water your seeds.  you have to be your own object of least neglect.  maintaining yourself will unlock doors nobody would ever open.

just try not to make others late to their own weddings.
-k.

-k.

CM Punk vs. John Cena

i broke my mother's heart in fourth grade when i told her i felt invisible. in the Catholic School system in my hometown you switch from grammar to middle school in 4th grade and it buried me under a sea of popular kids and adjustment.

recently, i've been producing a comedy show, and have been fortunate enough to rally troops of fantastic friends.

i was expecting one of my friends to come with her boyfriend, and after checking in with her multiple times, she was a no show. i tried contacting her after several times to no avail, and to this day haven't heard back. it's odd when a friendship ends with no explanation and without an inkling as to why. it leaves you confused, and not far from the invisible fourth grader who didn't know how to navigate cliques and drama. luckily, i still don't know how to navigate drama. i never want to learn, because i don't want this petty force in my life.

normally, in scenarios like this, the unresponsiveness would plague me. i'd overcalculate conversations past and circumstances present, dissecting the mechanics of what when wrong, who is to blame for what, and why it all happened. i'd chase until i got an answer. i'd create something to spark a response. i'd have to satisfy the lingering answer to why this happened, which is hanging in her rhelm. i'd need closure, a concept that seems to be more phantom that real, and that you rarely have the opportunity to achieve.

or, you can let go. mental energy seems better spent on acceptance of what is. in many ways, life is a series of people entering and exiting your life. sometimes these exits are graceful, nearly seamless, with the exception of the fact that it's indeed a break in friendship, communication, reliability, and closeness. people are unique, and so of course is every relationship. when someone drops out of your life, the needs that you had for that relationship must shift, to another friend or within yourself.

though this particular exit was quiet, many can be violent. in fact the silent screams can be the loudest; the deliberate, passive aggressive games that people play because they are desperate to make you a pawn, and under their control. in either case, i've preferred not to let go. i've preferred to set aside trivial frustrations, or call to attention the unspoken ones so that these obstacles clear. i've preferred to repair the damaged, regardless of how skewed or onesided. there's no problem two adults can't fix. i've flirted with line of self sacrifice vs. self sacrificing, a blurry line that never seems to run straight. perhaps this is why i tend to have a very long fuse, but why the end of it is so ugly.

but, sometimes the fact that you can fix something doesn't necessarily mean that you should. if you're so hellbent on repairing the broken that you find yourself tucking skeletons in the closet and sweeping dirty laundry under the rug for the "greater good" of your friendship, you may find the story of your relationships to be that of once upon a mattress. you find anger tucked between mattresses, sometimes even on a bed of lies. sleeping well won't come easy in these conditions.

i would not quit. i would never give up. i would be John Cena.

for those of you who have something better to do than watch the WWE from 8-10 p.m. on Mondays or PPV Sundays, John Cena has been made the face of the WWE. he is disliked by many because he's not the best in the ring, and he has been made champion so many times due to stale writing (something i blame the writers for more than him). he's fantastic on the microphone, and could probably get me psyched to file a tax return.

his edge has been softened and taken to the PG status that true WWE fans loathe. he preaches hustle, loyalty, and respect, in the name of our service men and women in the military. he used to rap battle other rappers and take a stand. he used to be tough. he used to be a rebel--but i think the owner of the WWE feared that people would grow tired of a rebel. now he makes no attacks, but just vows that he will win. the personal attacks are done with in a comedic style, and the shit talking has gone soft. he tends to rise above the mindless, unjust, and unprovoked attacks others make on him, being the better man. he never comes across as a pushover, but he does come across as mature. what's the fun in that?

he will not quit. he will not submit. his shirt says he will never give up.

lately i'm CM Punk. CM Punk dubbed himself as the voice of the voiceless, after filming one of the best promos ever done. he said he was leaving the WWE with the championship, and last Sunday he did.

he called the Cena an asskisser. he calls out the firings of very talented wrestlers remain unjustified. he said he was tired of grasping at the owner's imaginary brass rings, and that the owner stunted the growth of the WWE by surrounding himself with gladhanding, non-sensical yes men (starring Jim Carrey). he said that he's the best on the mic, in the ring, and at commentary, and he's proven it with no reward. he was airing the dissatisfaction of the WWE universe. he didn't take any shit. not from his boss. not from Cena. not from the fans. he said exactly what was on his mind. he never faltered. he never doubt his abilities or his character. not an ounce of him was sugarcoated. he never dressed up his thought in pretty speeches. he didn't care if he ruffled feathers. he didn't whiteknuckle for a second, refusing to tip-toe the line between staying true and satisfying higher ups. he did what he knew would let him look back with no regrets, bending boundaries until they broke. and everyone respected him for it. i can't remember the last time a crowd cheered so loud as when he walked away with the WWE championship.

Cena shares many qualities with Punk--the unwavering faith in himself, pride, and ability to speak on behalf of WWE fans everywhere. but it's time for me to do so with the unbridled rawness that CM Punk does. my Cena days were a way of suspending self-respect. sometimes when you try so hard to preserve a relationship, the relationship runs out of genuity. it becomes everything that you were afraid it would in the first place. it hides under covers. it disguises in pleasantries. it becomes obligatory and forced. Cena and Punk are true to themselves (or their characters, as the case were), but one still comes out as the bad guy, and the other depicts "good." at the end of your rope, it's better to be bad and upfront, than the good guy who is always polite, because operating in the fake of a manner is the worst of all.

i'm a Punk.
-k.

some john mayer lyrics or something

getting a phone call from your cousin that someone broke her heart sucks.  i couldn't sleep, and i was thinking about heartbreak and about this phone call and the twinge of pain and overprotective instinct it brought.

i've gone on record before, and will again, about how i hate the majority of love songs and why.  i remember talking to my dad about affairs of the heart, and he raised the point that extreme romance is absurd not because it's so corny or produced by Hallmark, but because nobody is going to ask you to "walk to the end of the earth" for them.  but, they might ask you to stand with you while you deliver a eulogy or help move their parents from a nine person house to a modest home for two. 

it was then that every "he'd walk a million miles just to hear her voice" and "i can't live without you" lyric started to sound more and more trite.  if someone is going to walk a million miles to hear your voice, they should instead walk one mile to a local store and purchase a cell phone.  and maybe a map, or a book called "The Idiot's Guide To How Miles Work."  it's scientifically proven that you can in fact live without "that person" in your life.  you were doing it the whole time before you fell in love.

everyone has blue, green, or brown eyes (or hazel if you're a heartbreaker or Kelly Clarkson).  if you're going to write a song about someone's eyes, please don't write "i remember his/her eyes." please write "the light, the heat--in your eyes--i am complete--in your eyes--i see the door way to a thousand churches--and resolution to all of my fruitless searches."  the best love songs are the real love songs; the ones that really say something (see Brandi Carlile: The Story). the best love songs aren't about how you feel about them, or how they feel about you; but about what the hell it all means when they collide.

the reason love songs have to be real is because those seemingly lofty, over-the-top, unreal moments are made completely real by love.  similarly, looking back on the most real moments of a relationship should seem like you've fallen into something unreal.  naturally, the end of such love, especially through the eyes of betrayal, brings about equally as sincere pain.  which is expressed through crappy My Chemical Romance emo ballads or amazing Alice in Chains songs off of "Dirt."  until you get angry. then it's Rage Against The Machine. 

in a previous blog i said the purpose of any form of love is self discovery and the discovery of someone/something else.  when that love is the "in love" type, it's also that both of you trust that you can build something outside of self that is greater than you are as individuals; that you combine smiling from your soul with the treatment you deserve and have been willing to give all along.  i'm pretty sure i still agree with that. 

love demands a certain type of balance and self-awareness; that's why you always seem to find love when you are self prioritizing. if you fall on the needy side, you reek of desperation, regardless of how cool, calm, and collected you think you are. if you break on the guarded side, you'll continue to hide behind fierce independence as if we can't see it's covering up the damage and hesitation yielded by a previous trainwreck, or how your parents didn't love you enough, or those other painful issues in life that keep you from pursuing anything, much less love.  you have to be honest with yourself and clean these skeletons out of your closet because they'll grow up with you.   then when someone great challenges you, you'll run into the arms of someone gently ordinary, perhaps your local bartender.  or, when someone mediocre comes along, you treat them like a knight in shining armor even if they're just wearing a burger king crown on a carousel. 

there's an iconic image of two swans bent at the neck facing each other to create the shape of a heart.  don't try this at home, but it looks like a pretty uncomfortable position to be in.  if you're so lost in staring at each other, you'll have blinders on to what lays ahead, and you'll crash and burn your way into the tunnel of love.  if you never look at each other, you might as well navigate the waters on your own.  best to swim side by side.

-k

i thought it would be different the second or third time around...

"...but everything's exactly in it's place, and i'm the only thing that's changed, i'm not the same"
                    -Lelia Broussard, Something True

i ate peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches at many Thanksgiving dinners when i was younger.  i refused to try turkey. or vegetables. or hamburgers.  or seafood.  or any food that might have a texture.  or any food that wasn't on an unhealthy American menu and outside of my bagel-pasta-occasional-ballpark-hot-dog comfort zone.  i threw monumental temper tantrums as a blue-eyed toddler with angelic blonde hair but seemingly demonic intentions.  i had a lethal stubbornness that explains why i have no younger siblings.

my mom is a healthy individual, but it came to nobody's surprise that she nearly had a heart attack when i asked her to pass the broccoli at a family dinner on a college break.  a cafeteria aimed at feeding the masses (rated on par with most jails--true story) forces you into trying new things.  sometimes, those things are healthy.  my stubborn attitude had to give.

maybe it's an innate characteristic i was born with.  maybe my parents' ability to cultivate an independent child crossed the line.  maybe it's because i'm a Taurus and the stars made me this way, mannn.  but i'm REALLY stubborn.  sometimes, this is a good thing, if you stand strong in your beliefs and won't back down like Tom Petty and won't take anyone else's crap.  usually, we refer to being stubborn in these context as "strong-willed" because it sounds nicer.

sometimes i'm strong-willed.  sometimes, i'm such an infuriating, bullheaded pain in the butt that my stubbornness interferes me and my relationship with others.  lately it's robbed me of my ability to trust that everything is unfolding as if should; that those who are in and those who are out of my life belong there, respectively and currently; that i am where i'm meant to be, how i'm meant to, and that why i am makes sense on some level to someone or something somewhere, even if it doesn't quite make sense to me.  i'm not a religious person, but i do have faith.

i became obsessed with South Park a while ago and their ability to transition from fart jokes into brilliant political satire.  i started YouTubing interviews with Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the show's creators.  they comically criticize all religions (and EVERYTHING else), leading many to ask, including this particular reporter, if they are atheists. Trey Parker responded by saying he thinks the most ridiculous belief is that the whole world happened "just 'cause" and that he "believes something is going on that we don't know about, and that's as far as i can go."  this simplistic glimpse into a satirical cartoonist's religious beliefs resonated with me, and i take it with me wherever i go.  i don't know if that "something going on" is one God, multiple Gods, or is even called God, or is male or female or has a gender, or is "the Universe" or is actually a broomstick.  i do know when my stubbornness results in my straying from trusting whatever "it" is, i find myself a little lost in a sea of doubt, bobbing thru waves of questions and confusion.  the water calms when i surrender; when i forfeit control and throw the reigns over to that "something."  it is then i focus with the sharpest clarity, the kind of clarity you can't pay for and you can only earn and achieve.  i focus on the right things--on self, and what is in my control. it is then i stop hovering on the cusp of kicking life's ass, and just go and kick it's ass.

i know this. i've learned this. i've learned this again (and again).  i live with the definition and walking proof of this.  it's in my head and it's in my heart but i guess it isn't always present.  not only have i been too stubborn of late to change my lack of trust in whatever is greater, but i've been to stubborn to even see that i'm not doing so.  but the recognition of this is always a sobering self realization, and change will follow.  maybe my stubbornness is in a metamorphosis. or maybe it's just in my twelfth house by way of the Taurus.

-k.

as soon as you start to make room for the parts that aren't you it gets harder to bloom in a garden of love

this happened:

ss1moose: katesaysanything needs to blog about valentines day

i'm taking blogging requests now.

Valentine's Day is the most polarizing day of the year that Hallmark has ever made. in fact, lonely singles will try to invalidate Valentine's Day and hide their loneliness by protesting against Hallmark and their manufacturing of this holiday. over-the-top couples will give into the red roses and boxes of chocolates mentality, with a defensive promise that they're doing it differently than everyone else, but actually enjoy getting caught up in the cliche for a moment. nobody recognizes that this is fine as long as you come back down to earth eventually.

i don't think anyone has really gotten Valentine's day right since the second grade, where you'd give everyone Barbie (or Transformers) stamped pieces of folded cardboard-weight paper with candy attached to it, as a way of showing appreciation and maybe telling one person you have a crush on them and then running away (a practice I still exercise today). it was a straight forward process defined by our parents, classmates, teachers, and simplicity. there is usually some some of celebration where you eat cupcakes, distribute your valentines, and celebrate. this celebration is severely underrated. 1) cupcakes are rad 2) valentines are rad 3) how often do we get to set aside a day, or even time in our day, to tell me people we love that we appreciate them? so simple an eight-year-old child can do it, and so simple adults don't.

the truth is, Valentine's Day is a Hallmark holiday. it was originally started in celebration of a martyred saint, which could lead this blog into a whole bunch of unnecessary symbolism i refuse to get into. but who cares? who cares if the damn holiday is an annual department store marketing tool and who cares if you're single and are going out with your single friends for cocktails and who cares if you're in a relationship and having one day of unhealthy devotion to the person you're in that relationship with filled with canned romance--or even better--real romance. it's just a day to celebrate love and appreciate those around you. the avenue we take to do so shouldn't matter. anything more than this is fake, anything less than this stems from an unnecessary bitterness that you are holding against your friends or an ex or yourself. nobody in this world is a allergic to love. regardless of which "type of love" your are celebrating, you should still celebrate it, whether that's with your family, friends, boyfriend/girlfriend, or even yourself. maybe the issue isn't with Valentine's Day, but with our inability to widen the scope of what that means. putting a limit on love is stifling the most necessary intangible force that we need.

let it bloom.
-k.

"there's nothing better than affairs of the heart, to make you feel so good then tear you apart"

i went to a concert and then to another concert last Thursday. neither of them were Barenaked Ladies despite the title of this blog.

ain't no blizzard gonna slow me down.

staggering thru snowbanks and the underground scene with my friends is a pretty regular ritual. as we filed out of Rockwood music hall, we decided the next logical step was to enjoy New York's finest mediocre overpriced pizza. about three bites in we started talking about a song i've been working on, which inevitably lead to a discussion about feelings as most of my lyrics are infested with them. about six bites in, the conversation turned to relationships, particularly that exquisitely painful grey area that sometimes ensues. feeling as close to my friend as i do, and feeling that the man under the microscope is a genuinely good guy, i had no choice but to default to the "boys are dumb" defense. if the glove doesn't fit, boys are dumb. makes about as much sense and johnny cockrane.

after all pizza was overpaid for and rightfully devoured, this lead to a higher level conversation, which lead to this blog. the "boys are dumb" defense simply doesn't. partly because we aren't in first grade, and the extension of that elementary mentality doesn't translate in your 20s.

to say all boys (who we will refer to as "men") are guarded and all girls (who we will refer to as "women") are relationship happy/prone/desperate is a lie. i know plenty of emotionally unavailable women and plenty of men who "need" to be dating someone at all times. if we are all born as blank slates, we cannot intrinsically fall into these buckets. there are fundamental differences between men and women, but there are also fundamental similarities that we share as people. these seemingly unbreakable patterns don't filter because of gender, but are a product of how we are socialized. if men are the hunters and women are the gatherers by nature, we're still all coming back to the same cave. and that hunter may not be happy without a gatherer to call his own, and maybe that gatherer could gather the shit out just about anything on her own. we inevitably break towards the "unavailable" or the "needy" side, but that isn't because of some driving internal force determined by gender. it's shaped by our experiences as people--our triumphs, heartbreaks, points of prides, regrets, mistakes, and lessons learned. the best you can do is recognize which side you break on and crawl your way to balance. if you can't, see a therapist.

it's not easy to claw back to the center. the balance very rarely comes naturally, and the only people i know who it does come naturally to aren't in their 20s. they've had to train themselves to get to this point. as someone who airs on the side of guarded, i proactively try to stay to open. when the issue is how guarded you are, it's not fair to make your partner in crime do all the work. vulnerability sucks, but it's a gateway to trust. we have to turn down the alannis morisette and dodge the fear that flies at us and learn to stand still instead of running away and stop agreeing with chuck klosterman that nobody will ever fulfill anybody because ColdPlay exists, even though he's right. people who feel the need to be in a relationship have to proactively try to remind themselves how full their lives are. they have to turn down the bryan adams and do yoga and be okay with sitting alone at the cafe with their thoughts and selfprioritize. either way, it's work to keep yourself in check. it's a mentality shift and sometimes even a lifestyle change, and knowing yourself is the first step. it's like weight loss or addiction recovery or admitting you like to watch the Jersey Shore. also, none of this is gender specific.

maybe boys aren't dumb. maybe kermit the frog had it right all along though gramatically incorrect: peoples is peoples.
-k.

COMPLAINT post.

...or you can run--run, run away, screaming like a little girl. i'm used to that.
-parry adams, little girl.

my blog has gone feisty and it's everyone's fault.

i am tired of people who treat happiness like it is entirely circumstantial and not at all a decision.

i have a friend who is 39. i like to say i picked her up at a bar because the first time we really hung out out was over a beer and burger four times the size of a human head at Jack Russell's (not steakhouse). she is happy and she made the choice to be.

heartbreak sucks. it is also inevitable; our hearts are usually put through the wringer at least once, be it wrung out romance or torn apart trauma. my friend is in an ending ten year marriage that has been on the road to divorce for about two years. her soon-to-be-ex-husband, who has bought us many a drink (he's a good guy, shocks me it didn't work out sometimes), and they were in couples therapy and trying to salvage what ended in a split. he said he just didn't think he loved her anymore. she took off her wedding ring and surrendered to the end. she made the decision to be happy. she wasn't going to stay with someone who is capable of falling out of love with her. she deserves unconditional because that's what she gives.

there a fewer things more personally painful than this i imagine. that's the fact that she's in love with someone new is amazing and a miracle to me--not so much that she's in love again, she's the kind of woman everyone falls in love with every other second. it's that she proved she could rebuild her way out of the wreckage with just her.

she moved out of a multi-million dollar home in California to a modest, one bedroom on the upper east side, which becomes significantly more modest when her two fifty pound boxers are in the recipe, too. she lived in both Boston and then New York after the separation. living among millions of people can be very lonely when you're putting together the puzzling pieces of your own broken heart. she grieved. she cried. she got scared. she got lost. and then it got good. she got up. she dried her tears. she grew strong. she opened her heart. she got found. she had fun.

the most beautiful part is she was more than fine on her own, but she also knew she had too much love to keep to herself. it seems to me that if you're so good at loving the first time around that you get completely demolished, you're meant to love again because you're one of those people with so much genuity per square inch off you it becomes immeasurable. when you take someone else's love, you're sure to overwhelmingly replenish them, not leaving them out to dry but soaked in the good stuff. you can stand on you're own, but you 're brave enough to keep your guard down so when your love fills the air between you, it doesn't break against your rough exterior. you're strong enough to take that risk because you don't want to miss out on someone truly great, and you know that if it falls through you're still standing. you love unbridled. you love with your whole heart. you love yourself enough to love.

with any heartbreak, this isn't easy to do--but it's always possible. your compass has to point inward for a while. you have to do the things you should do rather than want to. you have to stop thinking about them/it all the time, and when you do, you have to send them light and love and then think about something/someone else, according to eat.pray.love. not bad advice for a mediocre book and a julia roberts film. you have to take care of a healthy you before you entertain thoughts of taking care of someone else. you have to be selfish enough to be selfless enough. you have to kick out the pain by feeling it. you have to boot those who are only listening to your pain to gauge how much they can take rather than those who want it to be okay. you should get rid of those who you don't feel compelled to tell your honest tragedy to. you'll drown in the poison of anyone who you can apply to Ben Fold's "Battle of Who Could Care Less," because that means you and someone else are masquerading behind everything away from the truth. you can't drown in sorrow. you can't say what if i do. you can't say what if i did. you can't run when it scares you that something new has come along. you can't shy away from the uncomfortable or you will never do anything. you have to cut yourself slack, but not so much that you have blinders on. you have to get up everyday. you have to be happy and not just content. you have to risk. you have to try again. you have to avoid (though not entirely) those shallow desires that make you happy but are also harmful--otherwise you'll never get away from the nagging selfloathing that comes with it and you'll never heal. you have to eliminate the reminders. you have to away from everyone/everything that demands less than honesty. you have to avoid everyone/everything (though not entirely) who make it easy, because it's not easy. you have to get off facebook because anyone that you care about, and that cares about you will pick up the phone when you call. you have to go to therapy if you can't do it on your own. you have to make the decision to make things better for yourself. you have to find a route to happiness. you have to pursue that route without caution or hesitation. you have to be ready. you have to keep fear from winning. you have to get the stigma that your happiest is behind you out of your head. you aren't meant to idle in a state of moderate happiness forever. you can't sit still. you have to let someone else into your world, and maybe dabble in their's. you have to have faith--i don't mean that hour-in-a-church-on-sunday faith, i mean in you and people and hopefully a higher power. you have to surrender.

and hey, if you're reading this, it means you're still alive after round one.
-k.



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Now playing: The Academy Is... - The Fever
via FoxyTunes

i don't know a lot, but this is what i've learned so far

"you know you can look both ways and still get hit by the car" --Bryan Fenkart, Middle Man

i accidentally taught myself a lesson and i think it lead to my first "artistic choice."

i write song lyrics. plenty of them are in metamorphosis mode because i have someone who is composing arrangements to set them to. it's a lot less terrifying when my writing/emotions is/are safely locked away in three main notebooks, all of which are accidentally the color pink and most of which have that new notebook feel to them because they were purchased while i was inspired on the go and forgot to throw one that i already had in my purse. whenever i am writing, i try to keep my words genuine and accessible. but when lyrics and music fuse into a song, the words leap off the notebook pages, or sometimes computer screen, and grow alive with a certain authenticity that you can't describe and you can only feel. that is if you're one of those music people.

there are some people who could listen to Ke$ha and John Mayer and don't see a difference because they've both frequented Z100. most likely they connect to a different form of expression on a deeper level. i'm not on of those people.

lately i have been struggling with one of my own songs. it's because it's about a fight that ended a friendship that i don't at all regret ending. it's a complicated situation with a simple resolution that was initially painful but evolved into liberation. i don't know what hurt more: the feeling of betrayal from what transpired or realizing how invested i was in something that i find really easy not to care about anymore. i guess in part it's easy not to care because of what transpired. situations break into black and white when true colors show through.

reopening my songwriting notebook can reopen cans of worms that i thought i had shut so hard only my dad is strong enough to open them. these worms are used as bait to go fishing is a tumultuous sea o revisited emotions that i swore i was done navigating. the reason i was struggling with this particular song was i know it is a bias representation of what happened, which, is not honest. it's simply my side of the story. i recognize that the truth usually lies between your own pure white view and the blacked out version of reality you think your new found enemy has. the song is about my feelings rather than my role in the argument, which is certainly honest, perhaps too much so. i firmly believe that the purpose of music, and any art, is to discover hints of ourselves in these art forms; to find the human in "the humanities." it's not far fetched to say someone could relate to this song. finally i decided if she wants her side of the story told, she could write her own damn song.

most people think our friendship ended for a different reason than it did, possibly including the other people involved and definitely outsiders. sometimes the last straw appears to be the sole reason a relationship of any sort ends because the previous frustrations are swept under the rug and/or unfixable. it's hard to acknowledge the ugly damage someone has done to you because you are conceding in some sense, that this was "a waste." i don't believe this is true, you can only do what you believe is right to do at the time, and that's it. if someone proves you the fool, it feels like a painful error in judgment on your end, but you should never have to predict a break in trust.

the real reason we aren't friends is far different than the perceived. i'm very okay with that because i would never want the actions in my personal fall out to dictate someone else's friendship. hopefully this person will learn, and there is no use injecting your baggage into the relationships involved. nobody should be defined by an isolated incident, shamed or celebrated.

ever have someone do something that is so disturbing, so far out of the rhelm of what can be construed as a valuable relationship, it makes YOU feel like the crazy one? it amazes me that some people's brains are wired so crossed that they can sell themselves, and sometimes you, justification for their absurdity. i'm full from the lines she fed me, and broke from the ones i bought. best friends forever can be pretty short lived sometimes.

i could have had the sweetest revenge. i could do immeasurable damage knowing what she's said about me and others and situations and herself and the world. i could end other relationships in her life, probably with the other person involved. i could make her take a nasty fall for all the lies she's built herself up on, hiding behind a sweet facade, hyping her half way actions to fill in for the vacancies she really should have been there for. i could dismantle mutual bonds in a demonstration of her backwards priorities. i could have everyone on my side. but i'd rather walk away with the burns i have and treat them through my own inner strength than dodge the unsettled ash of a volcanic situation that i fueled. i have plenty of faith that karma prevails, and plenty of evidence to indicate that it will. people will see beyond the deceiving, seemingly harmless outershell and will watch the reveal of the selfish truth that lays within. i don't have the time, strength, or immaturity for that. but i have a song.

besides, she's not "one of those music people" anyway.
-k.


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Now playing: Bryan Fenkart - Middle Man
via FoxyTunes

lessons learned from moving.

for mom, dad, and Lydia
as t --> infinity.
the audible creek from our old wooden kitchen floor lulled slow and steady as i swayed back and forth with my dad holding me tight and dancing. i harked back to the countless times my dad and i danced, remembering when i was waist high and standing on his toes and we'd slowly rotate. that was about 15 years and two feet ago. rotating now from our makeshift dance floor, the viewpoint yields an empty refrigerator, once flooding with photos, and a cold, blank wooden door, once plastered with childhood artwork.

my mom always says that Binghamton gave us roots and that moving onto New Jersey and New York City gave us wings. preserving consistency with the metaphor, i asked my mom how she felt about branching out from these roots, which have been home for my entire life and longer. she said that she feels as though we've gotten all of the home out of this house.

my parents did the snowbird gimmick for a while and flew to Florida to escape the harsh Binghamton winter cold and gray skies. this was particularly awesome for me because the Yankees spring training happens to be in said state. i remember my dad and i unsuccessfully trying to dodge Florida traffic late after i landed at the Tampa airport. we finally arrived at their Lakeland apartment, and my mom's mission was to organize our endless pile of photographs scattered about the floor. it was then that my mom first made mention of not staying in Binghamton too much longer, and i told her home was wherever she and my dad were.

the house has been on the market for about a year. apparently the economy and housing market aren't so great or something. coincidentally it was about a year ago that 124 Rosedale made its home-to-house transformation. we've been ready, and my parents have been up for an adventure, intending to sublet in New York City, our now collective wings, until the end of the year, and once again escape to Florida for the winter.

selling the house has taught me a lot. it taught me that HGTV is all you really need to sell a house. it taught me that when a baseball obsession starts inside the heart of a blonde thirdgrader adorned in navy blue pinstripes, it grows into a collection 14 t-shirts, (after already seceding at least nine to bedbugs) and over 30 issues of Yankee magazine. it taught me that sifting through your childhood still instills the feeling that your older sister is SO cool. it taught me that three women can collect a LOT of unnecessary crap. it taught me that my dad had longish hair once?! it taught me that horseback riding results in some gorgeous pictures. it taught me that swim team had too many ribbons, and every other sport has too many trophies. it taught me that the lens of a camera takes a very different picture than when viewed through the lens of an adult eye. it reminded me that Mrs. Juriewicz was such a good teacher i didn't hate math. it reminded me that my dad always pitched or coached my softball league. always. it proved further that the sensitivity of my mother's heart outweighs her body, and that my family clung to my dad's amazing strength in hard times for a reason, and that i will forever feed off of it. it showed me even more that my parent's marriage has lasted over 32 years because it's an example of marriage in it's purest form.

growth was the best lesson. personal growth is frequently evaluated by the wise, but considering the growth of a unit is underestimated. a significant marker for my family is coming up on Saturday, and our house closes on Monday. i've been thinking about where we were as a group even less than five years ago. right now, my family has the blessing of coasting. we all wake up and go to bed with smiles on our faces. what happens during the day has been good news or status quo. what was once navigating tricky traumas and waves of pain has faded to smooth sailing through calm waters and tranquil seas. the other side of pain has proven worth it. it's hard to believe that there is light as the end of the tunnel when you can't see it, or it's arresting you in blinding pain. but it's there. adolescence forces your relationships to grow because you are growing into yourself. with self-discovery comes the definition of relationships outside of yourself, especially with those who you see you every day and love you anyway.

when you are around 5 your parents are your all knowing guide and ultimate source of sustainability. when you are around 15 your parents are wrong, or they are right but suck because they aren't right in the way that you are right. when you are around 25, your parents go from being mommy and daddy to mom and dad, still serving as a compass for direction but with the filter of adulthood. it's fun to see your parents grow. i don't know if my parents would fulfill the freedom that they have. i don't know if they'd have the courage or desire for a trial run in Manhattan five years ago. i don't know if they would throw caution to the wind, assuredly a well thought out, carefully plotted throw, but a throw none the less. i don't know if they'd eat through the rhythm of life the way that they are. seeing your parents grow is a fantastically fun realization; we don't always give them enough credit for this. they are your parents. the are supposed to be completely developed and infallible; that's why their mistakes hit with a crucial punch and land with disbelief. my parents have done something amazing. my parents have planted "home" inside of us as individuals, but also created a thread of continuity that runs through all of us.

the YES network over hyped the concept of the "Core Four" this post season, noting the four Yankees that have weathered the ups and downs of Yankee years since 1996, including five world series victories. they completely sweep the fact that andy pettitte left under the rug--ah, the benefits of having your own network. my sister would joke that the Core Four were like the cool kids' lunch table and that they were reading Eat. Pray. Love. in the Core Four book club. now, we refer to ourselves as the Core Four, though our core is a little more solid than contract negotiations and aging careers. every family starts as wide-eyed rookies--life is a new role as children or parents. hopefully, if you grow enough together, you get to enjoy the championships, and can manage when the best pitcher in post season history blows a save. in the bottom of the 9th. in game 7. of the WORLD SERIES. life can be hard.

the inside of my parents wedding rings read "as time goes to infinity." this has been tried, tested, and is true.

i'm just glad we have more staying power the Core Four South Paw.

-k.

seven habits of highly effective blogging.

i know two dudes in Astoria and i know where they keep their spare keys. this way i can let myself in rather than wait at the door for five minutes while they argue about who has to pause episodes of 21 jump street or take a break from the monkey balloon hunt game to let me in.

recently i let myself into their Astoria abode, "the Basment Upstairs" (www.basementupstairs.blogspot.com.... you're welcome) as one of the apartmates, Dan, was taking a shower and the other, James, was at work. i snagged a beer from the fridge and picked up "The 7 habits of highly effective people" off of the coffee table, which was covered in boy things, like video games and batteries and take out menus. on it's most basic level i HATE this book. i hate any book that says you must possess a specific set of traits to function a certain way, never mind in a completely subjective and immeasurable 'highly effective way.' but Dan takes long showers because of his lucious ladymane, so i made some headway into Sean Covey's infamous-and-possibly overrated--work. from my 48 page glance, it seems like the guy may have a point or something.

he introduces the habit of interdependence. i don't think interdependence is a habit as much as a trait, and i don't know if it drives us to be 'highly effective,' a definition which he never clearly defines. interdependence can arguably make us healthier. but underneath these technicalities lays a genuine core. interdependence, to paraphrase Covey, is the middle ground between fierce independence and poisonous dependence--a tip off that your stability is reliant on outside players. too much independence, which is where i lay when straying from interdependence, can keep you from being a 'team player' in the office. you become so self-reliant that you ignore others clear cut cues into the task. too much dependence makes you appear lazy and as if you have no mind of your own. interdependence is the balanced scale that prevents us from relying on others to make our personal goals a reality, but it welcomes improvements and support from others and won't fortify the guard that is naturally ingrained into "professionalism" or i believe, "life in general." it's a learned skill and evolutionary process. it demands the frequently discussed self awareness factor.

we sometimes forget to check in with ourselves--probably because everyone else gives their two cents whether we ask for spare change or not. we are bound to tilt toward independence or dependence--nobody is that 'effective' 100% of the time--but if we are trying to crawl toward the center, we're stepping in the right direction. the more clearly we see our proven strengths, weaknesses, morals, values, dreams, hopes, and what not, we also have a less cloudy definition of our role as employee, brother/sister, friend, son/daughter, mother/father, romantic partner in crime. the outlook on your internal relationship isn't so overcast, either. the version or image we project of ourselves doesn't always align with who we know we actually are. who we actually are acknowledges flaws; flaws that we are bound to try and bury when projecting an image to others. the more clearly defined we are through interdependence, the closer who you are and the image you project are to overlapping. and as the degree of separation between these lessens, the more confident we are in who we are. it's clear. interdependence is a fast track to balance and self-criticism. it's up to you whether it's constructive. like any self-assessment, it requires risk. you may not like everything you see in your reflection, and asking others to help change this is hard when you're staring at yourself. asking them not to take the reins entirely is also tricky. unbridled dependence means that we aren't in control, and we won't learn for next time. we can't concede our sense of self and backbone because it's easier to dodge accountability and fear. blinding independence is a speedy highway that constructs roadblocks with your internal and external relationships. if we strive for interdependence and fall out one side of the scale, at least we know we were reaching for the best version of ourselves. if we jump to dependence or independence, we find false safety cleverly and foolishly disguised as superb trust of false hyperproactivity. young adults often wear masks at each stop on this spectrum before discovering this sweet spot, and when we hit this stride we're scared to fall into it because of it's comfort. i've danced on both wings, and i'm glad i battled toward interdependence than hid anywhere else.

it's been sort of effective or whatever.
-k.



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Now playing: Charlotte Martin - Every Time It Rains
via FoxyTunes

i'm not gonna write you a love song...

guys i'm a blogging rockstar! my cousin made a request. this post is going on my greatest posts compilation: volume one and will be the bonus track on my live dvd.

said cousin was particularly drawn to the quote "try again. fail again. fail better." she asked me to apply it to relationships, knowing full well i hate writing about relationships. she also wanted me to explain why i hate love songs so much. in high school, they would call this a "critical lens" if i found a literary element to throw in somewhere. after debating whether or not to accept this request, which was really a demand, i realized i'm a sucker for my cousins, and haven't used my AP English skills in a while. let's get academic in here.

i hate writing specifically about relationships for the same reason i hate 90% of most love songs and love angry rock music. every song is either about "you" or "them." about how damaged you are, or how much pain you are in, or how you have to pick up the pieces. or it's about their smile, or their eyes, or how you'd walk the earth to hear their laugh. well, you're never going to have to walk the earth or do anything physically impossible to prove your love and his/her special eyes are like one of three colors in varying shades.

these songs aren't real because they either dance around the purpose of love, mask it, or bury it. the hubris, or tragic flaw, (as witnessed in Shakespearean tragedies, like King Lear. take that third period Senior year!) is that they won't get to the heart of the purpose of love. love is self discovery, the discovery of someone else, and the trust that you can both build something outside of self that is greater than you are as individuals. love is when you combine smiling from your soul with the treatment you deserve and have been willing to give all along. those are both my definitions, not merriam-websters, just as a heads up. it's that simple. and also incredibly complex. it's what makes Charlotte Martin's "Tremble" such a beautiful song, and anything by the Jonas Brothers nauseating. and when we don't want to think about it, that's what Rage Against the Machine is for. chuck klosterman said that "art and love are the same thing: it’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you." this is why good love songs and great, and why bad ones are putrid garbage. one some level, art and love are synonymous.

"try again. fail again. fail better." love and life are inevitable every day if you're lucky. if there's anything we know about life is that it's not perfect, it can get really messy. you're going to want to quit, you are going to want nothing more than to stay. it has highs, it has lows, it has thresholds in both directions. but waking up everyday is worth it. love is a lot like life, but you find waking up next to someone else is worth it a part of you.

navigating the speed bumps of your own life is one thing, but when someone else is in the passenger's seat, the ride is entirely different. especially if you have the capacity to love someone so selflessly that you are buckling their seat belt before your own. you aren't going to get it right every time, just like you won't as individuals, as mothers and fathers and daughters and sons and sisters and brothers and cousins and friends etc. the fork in the road is inevitable. it's just a matter of if you will pick a prong together or go down separate paths.

break ups are a painful process of a shared love not withstanding circumstances or changes of self. where love is sometimes unconditional, we as people are not. it's perfectly human to be subject to the unforeseen or unanticipated. it's like how the glove that once was worn by O.J.'s murderous hands no longer fit at trial. when we grow, we sometimes outgrow. people are constantly evolving, changing, and growing. love can't always adjust. it's why people who still love each other get divorced, and why people who seem so right for each other on paper have no chemistry in the real world and why two seemingly incompatible people can make love work. if you've ever been through a break up where there was nothing you would change in a redo, you probably would change their desire to leave or the circumstance that caused the split, and you probably didn't feel like staying power was so underrated until you were in this person's rearview mirror. this means, you want to change them or the situation, and that is an indicator that different paths are where you belong.

should you both bear right at the fork in the road, you are going to hit some detours. and you can get lost together. you are going to fight. you are going to inexplicably get on each other's nerves. you are going to be wrong together. there will be no handy g.p.s. telling you where to go. but you'll do it together. it's hard to view failure as an opportunity to learn, especially when a significant other is significantly involved. but that's the beauty of having a partner in crime--one of you can post bail. and if you have guts, you end up better in the end for it and still facing each other and yourselves the next morning. you will fail more times than you can count on one hand from everything as simple as trying to make his/her favorite eggs to trying to figure out how you can hurt someone so badly who care about so much. you will never be perfectly wise, but you will fail again. and you will fail better.

i just hope avril lavine isn't the one trying to write your love story.
-k.



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Now playing: Barenaked Ladies - Lovers in a Dangerous Time
via FoxyTunes

i'm starting this blog at 12:36 in the morning. those of you who know me know that this is impressively early for me to be starting a blog.

it's rare that i sit down and don't know what to write, but i know i need to. whenever my heart starts to swell and my head starts to stir, the writing indicator is electrified like a the buzz of a tilted neon sign at a local sports bar.

i find being stifled to be incredibly frustrating. i have a hard enough time sitting still, so when thoughts and feelings are withheld, my mind still races through idle situation, and not surprisingly, loses the race. there is no better way to incite the feeling of wanting to explode then to put a cork in whatever bottled emotions are trying to escape. this feeling usually comes from a recipe of having no opportunity to put your cards on the table and a lack of self honesty. airing your dirty laundry requires cooperation from both internal and external forces. when these forces align, catharsis comes over you. catharsis, the antidote to feeling plugged, is one of my favorite feelings.

sometimes catharsis, or letting go in general, is overwhelming in itself. when you've been clinging to an emotion, suctioning to what seems like it's validity, and it's suddenly gone, it's absence can be overpowering. there are few things in life that make less sense than this--the overwhelming power of nothing. what's amazing is whether a situation was in the rearview mirror or at the very forefront of your mind, letting go creates an unbelievable sense of the present.

this weekended yielded itself to a LOT of unexpected internal (and literal) house cleaning. the temperature was right open the emotional floodgates to many tributaries in my life, all of which felt dammed on some level. but if you've done everything in your power, and said all that is left to say, you're left with a void--but oddly a welcome one. or if you're me, you're left with two of your best friends at 51st street unexpectedly and inexplicably crying in front of Saint Anthony's plaque at Saint Patrick's Cathedral.

emotional releases are often provoked by damaged that leaves you broken and/or fumbling through the gray. sometimes it's hard to discern between allowing yourself healing time to pick up the pieces and not being brave enough to get out of your own way and try to move on. you may even trick yourself into thinking that why you initially cared in the first place doesn't apply anymore because it's easier than seeing the situation's ugly face (same applies to the 'Jersey Shore'). but on some level we know we are being cowardly, or even dishonest with ourselves. there's a part of us that was willing to jump into whatever hurt us in the first place, and we should never let extenuating circumstances rob this part of who we are as individuals simply because we were hurdled by that which is outside of us. otherwise it will seize us through ways of dealing with pain that are less than we deserve. it's hard, sometimes all we want is to return to the places we were before the damage; to feel like the fresh, unscathed, and innocent newborns we were before all of the hurt. pain and growth may prevent you from diving headfirst into whatever scarred us initially. but it takes more courage to try again injured than it did to make our first attempt with blinders on. though we may proceed with more caution, we also may continue with a better sense of ourselves. as long as we don't confuse caution for guard, life is pretty okay. and there is no guarantee it will work out in game two, but you sure as hell won't have a shot from the bench. as it's said, "try again. fail again. fail better."

-k.


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Now playing: Jem - Just A Ride
via FoxyTunes

let go.

have you ever absolutely screamed words in your head at someone that you can't actually say out loud? this drives me up a wall at warp speed, full throttle to the ceiling. it absolutely haunts me when i carefully conjure up scripts of conversations that never get spoken. they spoil in my head even though much of what i want to say has no expiration date.

most of my readers are probably surprised that i would even hesitate, much less be unable to say something as i often fearlessly jump at the opportunity to challenge or assist someone. or in brutal cases, attack someone.

however, when that conversation ventures into uncharted territory, or 'parts of the unknown' if you follow wrestling, and you also are clueless as to what reaction you will solicit, it can be hard to spit the words out, and REALLY scary.

recently the words i keep tripping over are "you're an alcoholic." it's odd that i can't open up this discussion, because alcoholism is a reoccurring force in lives of people i care about; people i REALLY care about; people i love.

part of the reason this conversation is so difficult to have other than the obvious difficult subject matter is that when i see this person, said person tends to be drunk. this is what i call confirmation. opening this door is also difficult because as shared as many traits of alcoholics/addicts in general are, everyone reacts differently. the spectrum of how an addict, or anyone responds when you have an unpleasant conversation rips out whatever readable nuggets you were grasping to and converts them to a ripe unpredictability that has a very possible chance of ending unfavorably.

i wrote out talking points. i wrote a letter that i never sent, and i don't know if i ever will. i've mapped out every possibility of what i would say on every given reaction. i intentionally exited on the wrong side of the subway on purpose to try to force fate into one of those magical encounters that ends like a movie montage with the most fitting soundtrack ever. but fate, by very definition, is not forced, and writing out notes on potential reactions is certainly not formulaic.

the hardest part of the whole conversation that i can't have is knowing that i can't be the one to turn someone sober. i can't make it my problem, and for once i don't want to. since i can't talk to the addict about it, i've been talking to god about it. i pray that he won't be sick with this disease anymore. i pray he won't die. i pray for trust that this will work itself out. i pray to surrender control i don't have. i pray to let go. he's a man of few words, but he gets the job done. usually in a mysterious way or something. today, this person told me he's going to try not to drink next week and see how things go. suddenly i could have the conversation, and i had it with confidence and surprising ease. i didn't even have to recount the fray's "how to save a life" more than six times.

i'm not saying this person will stay committed to sobriety, or won't relapse, or that it will be easy, or that it will make a huge difference in his life, but letting go allowed me to release both control and the words i've been clinging to for what feels like forever now. i feel redeemed. even if there is no great results, i know my cards are on the table, and they are all showing. you can read my pokerface. take that, GaGa.

-k.

if alcohol has become an unmanageable force in your life:
http://www.aa.org

if the drinking of someone you know is affecting your life:
http://www.al-anon.alateen.org/



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Now playing: The Fray - How To Save A Life
via FoxyTunes

instinct vs. logic

ever just jump so far off the deep end that you don't know if you can swim back? ever been scared that you are okay with jumping in cannonball style into a directionless sea of uncertainty? ever been unable to tell whether or not you are courageous for being so honest or pathetic for being that helpless?

fool me once, shame on you
fool me twice, shame on me

what about the third time?
and every time?
who do we blame?
does it matter who we blame?

blame doesn't matter if you are knowingly going to fight the same battle.

shouldn't we be trying to determine whether or not we are utterly masochistic or beautifully devoted? if you believe in something enough, it won't always come true. so when the door doesn't fully shut us out, why don't we shut it ourselves? why don't we lock it? why don't we barricade it?

logically we know we should.
we know we should opt for the healthier Situation (and it's abs).
we know we should move on.
we know we are better than pathetic.
we know we are better than helpless.
we know we are better than shameless (except for Garth Brooks).
we know we are better than playing games.
we know we are than anything that isn't straightforward, honest, and simple.
we know we are better than creating our own complications.
we know we are better than playing the fool.
we know we are better than "always on my mind."
we know we are better than everything feeling like a sign.
we know we are better than everything being a reminder.
we know we are better than the pain.
we know we are better than feeling like you invested so much, what's a little more?
we know we are better than listening to Janice Joplin's 'Piece of My Heart.' ever.

but unless you feel that way, you can "know" until the cows come home, which sometimes they do in Binghamton. you can "know" until you are blue in the face. but sometimes our instincts lead us away from our logic. they can lead us down a selfless and selfsacrificing road that may turn out to be a huge waste of time and/or money. they can make you question your selfrespect, but oddly enough validate it in the same breath.

it's a real pain in the ass when your head and your heart don't sit right because then you end up awake at 4 a.m. writing way too honest blogs because you feel like you know someone's soul and they know yours. or if that's too dramatic, they at the least make you smile from the inside. you concede all of your power at the risk of looking like an idiot (again and again....and again).

it's ironic because I was great in Logic class. i could write you three step arguments and identify the "Bandwagon" theory all day. and i would enjoy it too. but outside of this setting, logic was never my strongest suit. i was terrible at math proofs. my dad is amazing at them. when he tried coaching me through proving that a hypotenuse was the longest side of a triangle, and would get increasingly frustrated and want to scream "LOOK AT IT! MEASURE IT WITH A RULER! OF COURSE IT'S THE LONGEST SIDE."

whether something seems right in my mind, it is no match for how something feels. i usually regret not following my instincts because i always wonder what would happen if i did. i'd rather go out on a limb with the risk of it getting mowed down than wonder what would happen if i was still fiddling around it's stump. to paraphrase my favorite songwriter, landing hurts, but at least you know how to fall. emotions can override whatever thought process you may have. what's may actually be in your best interest is only relevant if it feels like it's what is in your best interest. something in the pit of your stomach just tells you to go for it, because even if you crash and burn, at least you won't be left wondering why.

i used to not be this way. i used to be guarded. i used to hide. i used to start the games. i used to put up walls. i used to run. i used to be vague. i used to be 'complicated.' i used to pretend i had no depth because it was easier than acknowledging what i've been through. i used to keep an arms length from anything i cared about. i used to bull shit. i used to worry about how i appeared than how i was. i used to drown in trite bullshit phrases like "it's just the hand i was dealt" and "i don't think you get me and what i've been through, and i hope you never have to." i used to think my pain was unique to me, which on some level i suppose it is, but on another level is completely tokenly adolescent. i used to love cautiously. but love isn't cautious, at least not the good love.

i'd rather be an open heart than a bleeding one. i'd rather be the fool on the hill than too scared to climb. i'd rather feel like i did everything that i could rather than think i did. i'd rather get bit in the ass by my own bravery and willingness than by my own fear and closed off nature. i'd rather someone know i care in the most pitiful, heartbreaking way than keep my Ace in my back pocket. i'd rather be honest than harmless. i'd rather be genuine than "kind of sweet." i'd rather care unconditionally than at convenience. i'd rather be me than someone who "seems" easier to be with. i'd rather live by my own motivations than comply with what every thinks a 22-yr-old girl should be. i'd rather be a challenge than someone who always says yes. i'd rather tell you it's not okay than lie. i'd rather take the risk than be safe. and maybe i'll break something, but it wouldn't compare to the pain of never having stretched.

i guess we will see where my instincts get me. for now, i'm trying this balance thing.

"some things are meant to be
and some things are are not
this is one of those things"

-k.

though the skies may start to rain they're always blue

i feel good. it's unrelated to james brown.

one post ago--which i know the 'intoxikating' faithful nation read--i wrote about ups and downs. today i am pretty even-keeled.

two posts ago--which i know the 'intoxikating' faithful nation read--what i wrote was pretty depressing and a total downer. this may be it's antidote.

i'm recently unemployed and more single than i was a week ago. the past three months have been their own rollercoaster ride following the bedbug incident of 2009 (BB2K9). a recipe of dislodging, 'lonely,' and unemployed don't always yield the most uplifting results. but it's different when you move to a better place mentally and physically, are okay with yourself, and freelance.

i feel like i'm seeing clearly through the fast-pace chaos frenzy that often surrounds us. a good friend of my said of circumstance that 'you can't pay for that kind of clarity.' he's right...it's a good thing too because i can't afford to pay a lot.

i feel like i'm in a movie scene at a mall or an airport where i'm the character standing still while the people surrounding me are faceless and speeding around in fast forward. instead of struggling to control circumstances that are out of my range, i am controlling what's within my grasp: me. but i find this metaphor unsatisfactory.

people a lot smarter than i am somehow figured out that the calmest part of a storm is in the center--right in the eye of the tornado. i'm guessing this was a dangerous trial by error thing, like life can be. the further we deviate from center, the more likely our foundation is to be ripped up until you are out are the storm and far away from it's path.

i'm in the eye of the storm. i thought i wanted to be safely tucked into a basement somewhere on it's outskirts. i thought serenity came from protection, watching the Weather Channel and destruction from afar, counting our blessings. but that means i'm dodging the storm all together rather than tackling it. but there is more value in it's eye. you learn to maintain your center and travel with the storm. you can avoid damage by cutting through to the storm's core. you can manage yourself and follow it's path.

well i guess i'm Helen Hunt (in Twister--to my knowledge Mel Gibson has no ability to read my mind and i certainly don't own the awesome dog from 'Mad About You'). rather than run from the Storm of Life (how much does that sound like a self help book?) i'm doing a better job of tracking it (with the help of Bill Paxton). i'm changing what i can to rock this sucker from the inside. when the storm takes an unexpected turn, i am adapting. and when the storm revisits old doors that i thought were closed, and rips them off with a powerful ease, i'm still managing to keep control of myself, even if i can't control the situation itself.

and maybe that's As Good As It Gets.

-k.

'that's life'

it seems everything clicks at once. the job, the significant other, the apartment, the inner peace which is ultimately your inner piece.

it seems to all go to shit at once. the economy, the people you were blissfully getting started with, the bed bugs if you haven't yet learned that not manhattan is prone to them again.

our control in these endeavors ranges, and it is the uncontrollable that really pisses me off.

i am not a control freak. but i think by nature we secretly all are a little bit. unless you are one of those weird drifter people who doesn't ever have a home and is on constant vacation because establishing roots 'just isn't their thing.' we are not control freaks because we are power hungry, but because the feeling of not being in control that shakes the comfort out of us. somewhere there is a happy medium. when you find it with a job, you are probably one of those rare people who genuinely gets to 'do what they love' rather than just tells themselves this to get through the 9-to-5. when you find it with a person, you are in love. when you find it with an apartment, you never want to move (and are also in love). the fact that these always seem to coincide, at least in my life, are ultimately what create 'highs' and 'lows.' it's why people come up with cheesy catch phrases/advertising slogans that make you millionaires like 'life is a journey--enjoy the ride.' no offense nissan, but kiss my ass. life as a journey, or a rollercoaster, or a highway if you are tom cochrane is easy. the 'lifeish' part of it is understanding that life seems to be a constant series of adjustments until each piece falls into place, or at least into balance. which is why i suppose so many people get close, but not too close, to love, and live in moderate one bedrooms in Queens, and work at jobs that take up most of their week that they are okay with. they try and manufacture their own balance in a form of settling. i'd rather power through the pain and be more genuinely happy. i think either approach is okay as long as you are satisfied and aren't wading, stuck in the pain.

i don't think you should never be open to what feels comfortable, because then ultimately you never will be. embrace comfortable and secure. but if it's dislodged, work and adjust. if you can't hit the curveball life throws at you, you can't make it in the big leagues. unless you are alfonso soriano in his first season somehow.

a friend of mine recently told me the phrase "try again. fail again. fail better." it's time to learn each time.

-k.

belated new year's

a friend of mine reads my blog when we aren't talking about the yankees or playing sporcle. he noted a lapse in my posting. it occurred to me that i owe everyone the obligatory "new year!" post.

usually when i lack in posting it means that i'm either a) leading a really boring life b) leading too busy of a life or c) trying to figure out what the fuck is going on in my life so i can try and figure out a way to articulate it. this time was both b and c.

i love my new gym. it's like Globogym in the movie Dodgeball except with better hair and no hilarious huge black sidekick named MeChelle. there are a million machines, 2 million towels on every floor, and their snobbish Upper East attitude means i can be rude when blaring my mp3player. this is a far cry from my gym back in...Astoria (insert condescending Manhattan tone).

Fitness Point in Astoria was a far cry from the perfect body machine that is New York Sports Club. it cost $200/yr, many of the machines were broken, but a little bit of everything was available. there was an adorable dog owned by those who ran the place. while charming, that yapping dog would bark enough to shake you from your elliptical.

what i remember most about this gym was the odd T.V. choices that ran. rather than your typical e.s.p.n., music video, or token chick movie station that normally cycle while you are cycling, this gym ran the news, the history channel, and the discovery channel. it was really weird. most of the time that i went, i was positioned slightly off centered from the show Nature's Deadliest. it made my really glad that the only jungle that i live in is made of concrete. the whole premise of the show was about your surroundings can poison and kill you. and by surround you i mean envelop you if you are strolling through the heart of the jungles of Vanuatu or the mountainous Hunzas.

i made them turn off this show when the A.L.D.S. started. afterall, i had to watch Mark Texeira make defensive plays and begrudgingly watch A-Rod succeed. i still hate that guy. but Nature's Deadliest taught me more than what scorpions to avoid and what plants are poison ivy wannabes. the premise of our surroundings poisoning us, and even killing us, runs deep. not only are you making a decision to utilize something toxic, but you may not even realize you are making the decision to do so. in fact, you may even view it as a resource.

ain't that the truth. lately there has been a disparity between what i want and what i should do. dave ramsey, who inspired my fear of debt and hatred of creditcards, said that "children do what feels good, adults devise a plan and stick to it." i've been a child lately. sometimes i think this is ok. but sometimes i give too much weight to unhealthy habits that sneak their way into my life. it's one thing to have their presence, it's quite another to cultivate them. then they go from an unhealthy habbit to an unhealthy lifestyle. i can feel myself getting farther from what i ultimately want. in a way, getting closer to what i want as a short term satisfacatory dillusion clouds my long term desires. usually, these short term things are more often than not fun with only slight twinges of self loathing, but they add up pretty quick. and while this self loathing is only a splinter, it runs deep, ultimately because i am making informed decisions that i know are harmful. i am picking the poison ivy on purpose. i am chasing the sting ray, knowing that it's called a S T I N G ray and what happened to steve irwin (too soon? see south park's thoughts on AIDS being funny).

i sound pretty mature for recognizing all of this. i sound pretty lame for knowingly not following through on healthy decisions. but that introduces the dichotomy of head vs. heart. i *know* there are certain decisions i need to make, and that there are certain people who are poisonous to keep in my life. i know that usually when i cut out these poisonous people, it fucking sucks. but then i usually feel a lot better. but i also know that my instincts are telling me not to let go. that somewhere in my guy the bittersweet treasure is ultimately a win, that pain coming with pleasure is worth it. i know that when i don't trust my instincts i more often than not regret it. i know that this contradiction between how i think and how i feel is somewhat irresolvable because if i fulfill one, i end up wondering what life is like if i take the other path.

i wonder what version of myself is the true me. if we are pretending to be something for a day/weekend/week/year/millisecond, aren't we genuinely--in this moment of pretend--being just that? how are we supposed to discern between head vs. heart, between guise and truth? and what if both feel comfortable?

my new year's resolutions are to learn music, get more organized, shed a few pounds, and be more honest with myself. that last one kind of just started.

i don't think i'll ever have the answer to these questions. but if anyone needs a remedy to a spider bite and a spin and a brief sprint on a mediocre treadmill, there's a cheap gym in Astoria that is happy to keep you. just beware of dog.

-k.