1. c-h-a-o-s: (by Ellen Berry Photography) Behold: my heart and all its glory.   I have a snake-skinned box filled with inspiration, love tokens, letters unsent and feel-good drawings.  When I was down in the dumps about two months ago, I took to reading ‘Succulent, Wild Woman’ (my go-to self help guide) in which the author, Sark writes about she calls ‘Marrying Yourself.’  Essentially, ‘Marrying Yourself’ is a process in which we as women become at utter peace with our own solitude.  We’re okay going stag to a wedding.  We’re just fine eating at a restaurant alone.  We’re perfectly content spending Friday night in, curled up on a couch with a cup of tea and a book.  We’re able to shed the sad and the lonely that inevitably follows sour break-ups or enviable engagement announcements and commit entirely to loving ourselves.   In this passage, Sark outlines her own process and said she took a great deal of time defining the ideal characteristics of the ultimate relationship.  She did with a rational head, after all the hurt and pain was gone, sort of like a grocery list.  She said she did this so she wouldn’t be tempted to rush into something that wasn’t perfect.  You know, under the belief that writing these traits down would solidify their jurisdiction over her heart.   Before I moved to Seattle, I did the same thing — took construction paper and markers and scribbled two separate sheets of paper to shreds with requirements.   The first outlined everything I would NEVER accept in a relationship again, written in dark blue and green and underlined in very angry capital letters.  >:o  I then folded up the sad traits and stuffed them in my Feelings box.   The second sheet, pink and red letters written on white paper, has hearts and squares and happy doodles.  It’s a collage of requirements for my heart to be happy, and I swore upon writing these terms and conditions out that I would abide by them.  In no specific order nor tense consistency (it was a quick-write), here’s what I came up with:   WHAT I WANT/NEED/DESERVE IN LOVE:   - Two-sided, mutual, reciprocative love.  Non-negotiable.  - Friendship - first, foremost, and forever- Honesty always- Space without question; time “off” when necessary- Compassion- Amusement- Quirkiness embraced; silliness encouraged - Forgiveness- Patience- Open lines of communication- Ability to sit quietly, yet happily- Willingness to try new things- Able to evolve and adapt- An unassuming approach to trust - Stability- Respect- No judgments.  Never, ever.- Cuddly- Kind- Adventurous  - Physically stimulating, but intellectually rewarding  - HAPPY and FUN.   It was weird to go back to the basics, but think to yourself — how many of those traits actually exist in your current relationship?  In your past relationship?  I’m no stranger to dysfunctional approaches to love, but I know enough to know it’s difficult to come by the “ideal” match.   We’re always settling and accepting unhappiness.  Girls, why do we settle?  Why?!   Six months ago, I sat at my father’s dining room table and sobbed to him about my oddities.  I cried about how no boy could possibly ever love me because of my then-recently diagnosed “attention disorder” — that I was destined forever to a life of solitude and spinsterhood.  I listed these undesirable traits — uncontrollable spurts of spontaneity, constant disorganization, attempting unsuccessfully to find peace amidst self-created chaos — and asked him, myself, and the Universe at large how anyone could ever love such damaged goods.  I felt cursed and horribly alone, and these thoughts of self-doubt remained with me for months.   I still battle with them.   Rather than dwell, however, on the thought of being alone “forever,” I began to embrace solitude.  The freedom!  The luxury of taking up both sides of the bed!  The ease of eating macaroni and cheese for breakfast and not wearing makeup or curling hair!  No one to answer to at 2AM when it’s closing time and I’m a $30 cab ride away from home - with every intention of paying for the cab guiltlessly.  I packed my bags and headed on a journey of my very own making without caring at all about anyone else’s thoughts or opinions.   It. Was. Awesome.   I had no intention of meeting someone right off the bat in Seattle.  But, well… I did. And although I generally steer clear of commitment of all shapes and sizes, it feels right to say yes to stability.   I don’t know what it feels like to meet “the one.”  I do know what it’s like to meet someone with whom I’m truly, honestly compatible, because there are about 3% of humans I connect with on this level.  Meh, I can get along with just about anyone, but in terms of true connections?  Very few.  But these connections are absolutely spell-binding.  Finish-each-other’s-sentence spell-binding.  And it’s taken years for me to build these friendships.   Buuuut, with M, I knew within hours that we just… clicked.   I think, as women, we’re under some kind of misconception that we have to “be” a specific way.  Like, super put together.  Or maybe that’s just my view of the world, because it just so happens most women are put together.  I also think most women play it safe, say the right thing and are careful not to reveal too much all at once. Don’t drink too much!  Don’t speak without thinking!  Don’t wear that dress - he might think you’re risque! With a self-imposed deadline of ten weeks in Seattle, I approached our introduction as anything but a game of seduction.  Yes, yes.  Sometimes intellectual foreplay can be tantalizing.  But when there’s no time to waste to learn about someone’s core - their true and honest self - you dive right in and open up, too.   In sum:  Oh, hi, I’m Kathy!  I’m really glad I’m wearing heels and you’re still taller than me.  Sorry I was late.  I feel like a martini!  Tell me about you.  Oo!  You were Greek AND an engineering major?  Let me throw in a math pun with an arm swing and see if you give me a weird look.  Oh hey, we’re both really awkward.  I’m glad you laughed.  Also, you’re fucking hot as hell.  Another drink!  About me?  Let me ramble on a bit.  Actually, a lot.  Another joke.  Another drink!  I’m pretty sure this a glass of straight vodka.  You want one?   Are you going to eat that olive?  I have to pee.  I usually hate PDA’s, but let’s hold hands and act cutesy.  Let’s also broach the unspeakable topics just to establish that we’re both liberal agnostics.  Thank GOD.  Or you know.  Whomever.  Wanna take a cab home?  We can go back to my place - we’ll stumble over at least twelve discarded outfit choices all over my floor while we make our way to my bed, but then we can make out for hours and promptly pass out in a brown-out.  Next morning:  Oh.  Hello there.  Did we, um…  have sex?  No?  Good.  Sure, I’d love to have dinner tomorrow.  Let’s both be the most awkward and not touch at all while I see you to the door.  Let’s go on some more dates, then get lovey at a music concert, then realize we’re head-over-heels in like with each other for reasons we can’t quite articulate and make things Facebook official after 2 weeks.   And that’s that.   I do need my space, probably more than I need anything else.  I need “me” time.  So does he.  He is so, so patient with me and never demanding.  He’s easy-going and relaxed, but so focused and driven.  I mean, his options were ‘Go to law school’ or ‘Get an engineering PhD’ — and yet he’s so supportive of my writing and creative endeavors.  But he’s witty!  And goofy!  And so much fun.  The Zodiac puts us on opposite spectrums of the wheel but still deems us compatible, as my dreamy Pisces ways inspire him to be more emotional and sensitive and his Virgo senses stir up some structure and organization in my life.  And he’s not wildly older than I am - only by 6 months.  Most importantly, he has a kind heart and a good soul.  With regard to our relationship, he said, “I don’t understand why we work, but we just do.  And I’m really happy.”   He’s seen my disheveled room.  He’s witnessed my attempts at cooking.  He saw me go two days without cell service because I forgot to pay my bill.  I’ve exposed 100% of my awkward/unusual quirks (“I’m going to a spiritual healer to get my chakras cleared.”)  We’ve gone from swanky, candlelit dinners at jazz-inspired restaurants to head-pounding, feet-grooving house concerts, to just lying in bed watching the rain and sitting silently.  It’s light-hearted, but it feels so unbelievably right.   More importantly, it feels pure.  And that is a huge relief.    I guess this post was mostly for my own documentation.  I’ll probably wake up tomorrow and realize I’ve written yet another novel, get ashamed and make it private, but for now, goodnight interwebs.  

    c-h-a-o-s:

    (by Ellen Berry Photography)

    Behold: my heart and all its glory.  

    I have a snake-skinned box filled with inspiration, love tokens, letters unsent and feel-good drawings.  When I was down in the dumps about two months ago, I took to reading ‘Succulent, Wild Woman’ (my go-to self help guide) in which the author, Sark writes about she calls ‘Marrying Yourself.’ 

    Essentially, ‘Marrying Yourself’ is a process in which we as women become at utter peace with our own solitude.  We’re okay going stag to a wedding.  We’re just fine eating at a restaurant alone.  We’re perfectly content spending Friday night in, curled up on a couch with a cup of tea and a book.  We’re able to shed the sad and the lonely that inevitably follows sour break-ups or enviable engagement announcements and commit entirely to loving ourselves.  

    In this passage, Sark outlines her own process and said she took a great deal of time defining the ideal characteristics of the ultimate relationship.  She did with a rational head, after all the hurt and pain was gone, sort of like a grocery list.  She said she did this so she wouldn’t be tempted to rush into something that wasn’t perfect.  You know, under the belief that writing these traits down would solidify their jurisdiction over her heart.  

    Before I moved to Seattle, I did the same thing — took construction paper and markers and scribbled two separate sheets of paper to shreds with requirements.  

    The first outlined everything I would NEVER accept in a relationship again, written in dark blue and green and underlined in very angry capital letters.  >:o  I then folded up the sad traits and stuffed them in my Feelings box.  

    The second sheet, pink and red letters written on white paper, has hearts and squares and happy doodles.  It’s a collage of requirements for my heart to be happy, and I swore upon writing these terms and conditions out that I would abide by them.  In no specific order nor tense consistency (it was a quick-write), here’s what I came up with:  

    WHAT I WANT/NEED/DESERVE IN LOVE:  

    - Two-sided, mutual, reciprocative love.  Non-negotiable.  
    - Friendship - first, foremost, and forever
    - Honesty always
    - Space without question; time “off” when necessary
    - Compassion
    - Amusement
    - Quirkiness embraced; silliness encouraged 
    - Forgiveness
    - Patience
    - Open lines of communication
    - Ability to sit quietly, yet happily
    - Willingness to try new things
    - Able to evolve and adapt
    - An unassuming approach to trust 
    - Stability
    - Respect
    - No judgments.  Never, ever.
    - Cuddly
    - Kind
    - Adventurous  
    - Physically stimulating, but intellectually rewarding  
    - HAPPY and FUN.  

    It was weird to go back to the basics, but think to yourself — how many of those traits actually exist in your current relationship?  In your past relationship?  I’m no stranger to dysfunctional approaches to love, but I know enough to know it’s difficult to come by the “ideal” match.  

    We’re always settling and accepting unhappiness.  Girls, why do we settle?  Why?!  

    Six months ago, I sat at my father’s dining room table and sobbed to him about my oddities.  I cried about how no boy could possibly ever love me because of my then-recently diagnosed “attention disorder” — that I was destined forever to a life of solitude and spinsterhood.  I listed these undesirable traits — uncontrollable spurts of spontaneity, constant disorganization, attempting unsuccessfully to find peace amidst self-created chaos — and asked him, myself, and the Universe at large how anyone could ever love such damaged goods.  I felt cursed and horribly alone, and these thoughts of self-doubt remained with me for months.  

    I still battle with them.  

    Rather than dwell, however, on the thought of being alone “forever,” I began to embrace solitude.  The freedom!  The luxury of taking up both sides of the bed!  The ease of eating macaroni and cheese for breakfast and not wearing makeup or curling hair!  No one to answer to at 2AM when it’s closing time and I’m a $30 cab ride away from home - with every intention of paying for the cab guiltlessly.  I packed my bags and headed on a journey of my very own making without caring at all about anyone else’s thoughts or opinions.  

    It. Was. Awesome.  

    I had no intention of meeting someone right off the bat in Seattle.  But, well… I did. And although I generally steer clear of commitment of all shapes and sizes, it feels right to say yes to stability.  

    I don’t know what it feels like to meet “the one.”  I do know what it’s like to meet someone with whom I’m truly, honestly compatible, because there are about 3% of humans I connect with on this level.  Meh, I can get along with just about anyone, but in terms of true connections?  Very few.  But these connections are absolutely spell-binding.  Finish-each-other’s-sentence spell-binding.  And it’s taken years for me to build these friendships.  

    Buuuut, with M, I knew within hours that we just… clicked.  

    I think, as women, we’re under some kind of misconception that we have to “be” a specific way.  Like, super put together.  Or maybe that’s just my view of the world, because it just so happens most women are put together.  I also think most women play it safe, say the right thing and are careful not to reveal too much all at once.

    Don’t drink too much!  Don’t speak without thinking!  Don’t wear that dress - he might think you’re risque!

    With a self-imposed deadline of ten weeks in Seattle, I approached our introduction as anything but a game of seduction.  Yes, yes.  Sometimes intellectual foreplay can be tantalizing.  But when there’s no time to waste to learn about someone’s core - their true and honest self - you dive right in and open up, too.  

    In sum:  Oh, hi, I’m Kathy!  I’m really glad I’m wearing heels and you’re still taller than me.  Sorry I was late.  I feel like a martini!  Tell me about you.  Oo!  You were Greek AND an engineering major?  Let me throw in a math pun with an arm swing and see if you give me a weird look.  Oh hey, we’re both really awkward.  I’m glad you laughed.  Also, you’re fucking hot as hell.  Another drink!  About me?  Let me ramble on a bit.  Actually, a lot.  Another joke.  Another drink!  I’m pretty sure this a glass of straight vodka.  You want one?   Are you going to eat that olive?  I have to pee.  I usually hate PDA’s, but let’s hold hands and act cutesy.  Let’s also broach the unspeakable topics just to establish that we’re both liberal agnostics.  Thank GOD.  Or you know.  Whomever.  Wanna take a cab home?  We can go back to my place - we’ll stumble over at least twelve discarded outfit choices all over my floor while we make our way to my bed, but then we can make out for hours and promptly pass out in a brown-out.  Next morning:  Oh.  Hello there.  Did we, um…  have sex?  No?  Good.  Sure, I’d love to have dinner tomorrow.  Let’s both be the most awkward and not touch at all while I see you to the door.  Let’s go on some more dates, then get lovey at a music concert, then realize we’re head-over-heels in like with each other for reasons we can’t quite articulate and make things Facebook official after 2 weeks.  

    And that’s that.  

    I do need my space, probably more than I need anything else.  I need “me” time.  So does he.  He is so, so patient with me and never demanding.  He’s easy-going and relaxed, but so focused and driven.  I mean, his options were ‘Go to law school’ or ‘Get an engineering PhD’ — and yet he’s so supportive of my writing and creative endeavors.  But he’s witty!  And goofy!  And so much fun.  The Zodiac puts us on opposite spectrums of the wheel but still deems us compatible, as my dreamy Pisces ways inspire him to be more emotional and sensitive and his Virgo senses stir up some structure and organization in my life.  And he’s not wildly older than I am - only by 6 months.  Most importantly, he has a kind heart and a good soul.  With regard to our relationship, he said, “I don’t understand why we work, but we just do.  And I’m really happy.”  

    He’s seen my disheveled room.  He’s witnessed my attempts at cooking.  He saw me go two days without cell service because I forgot to pay my bill.  I’ve exposed 100% of my awkward/unusual quirks (“I’m going to a spiritual healer to get my chakras cleared.”)  We’ve gone from swanky, candlelit dinners at jazz-inspired restaurants to head-pounding, feet-grooving house concerts, to just lying in bed watching the rain and sitting silently.  It’s light-hearted, but it feels so unbelievably right.  

    More importantly, it feels pure.  And that is a huge relief.   

    I guess this post was mostly for my own documentation.  I’ll probably wake up tomorrow and realize I’ve written yet another novel, get ashamed and make it private, but for now, goodnight interwebs.  

Notes

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About me

Applying creative logic to all realms of life.

I adore sentence structure, thrift inspired fashion, and pink tulips. The most.

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