Beautiful Things : A Picture Collection Vol. 1

I spend a lot of time clicking around the internet.  More time than I would like to admit.  But over the past few years I have been collecting images and gifs that make me happy, for one reason or another.  I've decided it was about time I did something with them.  And if for nothing more than clearing some space on my hard drive.  Here is a collection on things that mean something to me.  Feel free to collect your favorites, and send others you love to me.  The internet's greatest feature is the ability to share things that stimulate us with one another.  So, be stimulated and I promise I will have my own words and pictures up for you soon.  These may be just the inspiration I need.

 

 

Filming the original MGM lion.

Kissing and Telling, and Then Forgetting.

I've been debating for the past week whether or not I should write this blog.  My hesitation comes from the fact that I may come off as a Skanky Mcskankerton.  But as I sat down to write a blog tonight, with little to no inspiration, this popped back into my head and I've decided to stop fighting it, and just get it out of me.

I have always enjoyed being intimate with men.  Not necessarily sex, every time in every situation.  But I love the physical affection and the validation you feel when you get to makeout with someone who makes your knees weak.  I recently saw a commercial on tv that claims the average person has 18 first kisses in their lifetime.  This made me panic.  Because I think I had 18 first kisses within a year of my first ever kiss when I was 14.  So I started thinking back to all of the men, and some women, that I have kissed.  And here's the thing, I can't remember.

I don't know why my memory is so bad, or if it just specifically blocks out certain things, but when it comes to my romantic history all I can seem to remember are the feelings and not the people.  For instance, I remember that I dated this guy named Jason for a short while.  For the life of me, I can't remember his last name.  But I can remember the first time he kissed me, after dinner, on a Lake Shore Drive outside of his apartment building.  Then there's Staffort.  I remember his name, because come on, it's Staffort.  But I have no idea what he looked like.  All I can picture in my head when I think of him is Bruce Willis.  And that can't be right.  What I do remember is his hand on the small of my back when I jumped up to the microphone and started signing "Mr. Jones" with him at the bar.

Maybe I am so in love with the feeling of romance and affection that it is the only thing I hold onto after these encounters.  It makes me feel bad for the other involved party, but at least it's about how you made me feel vs. who you were, where you were from, or how much money you spent on me. 

I've done a lot of dating in the past 2 years since Andy and I broke up.  I told myself I was looking for another relationship, but as it would turn out, I wasn't.  I was just looking to surpass the standard for first kisses with flying colors.  I believe I have succeeded. 

I only kiss one boy now, and that's okay with me too.  Because now I get the feelings, and I have a chance to really get to know him.  And it's harder to forget someone who never really leaves your mind.

Yours Truly,
Skanky McSkankerton

How Much Distance Is Long Distance?

Don't mind me as I get a little 'Carrie Bradshaw' in this post, but this is something that has been on the forefront of my mind the last couple of days.  And since I have been lazy about blogging, I felt it was the appropriate time and topic for a new post.

As some of you may or may not know, I have recently embarked on a new relationship.  This is the first exclusive relationship I have been in in years.  The last real notable relationship being Dan the Man.  And this relationship is only notable to me, seeing as though he, to this day, will never ever admit we were actually dating.  I digress...

So there is this new man in my life.  (And sorry, baby. You knew it was only a matter of time before you ended up in a blog).  He is wonderful in every sense that one could be wonderful.  He is the funniest man I have ever dated.  He is literally 'milk coming out of your nose' funny.  He is sweet, kind, and gentle.  He has never made me feel rushed, or impatient, or scared.  He always says the perfectly wrong thing at the exactly wrong time, but it's constant and genuine.  His intentions are good, and he is above all else, honest with me about everything.  Our relationship, from the beginning, has been built on an unreal ability to communicate with each other.  We had a rocky start to the relationship, and got through it because night after night for weeks we would sit on the phone and talk about every last thing we were feeling and scared of and excited about.  I am so grateful that all of this waiting for another great man to come around has been for him.  He is truly an amazing guy.

But if that is how this blog ended, all butterflies and rainbows, I wouldn't be writing it in the first place.

We have been dating, officially, for just over a month now.  And we are both learning some things about the relationship that weren't very clear in the beginning.  The largest of these things being the literal distance between the two of us.  It may not seem like much, and I don't want to 'woe is me' like I have it as bad as great lovers separated by world wars, but he is a good hour and a half away from me.  And with my transportation situation being what it is (I don't drive. At all.  Anywhere. Period) it's been entirely up to him to get back and forth to my town, to pick me up to take me out to his shows, and to drive out late nights after a gig to spend a few short hours sleeping in my bed before I have to get up and go to work.  While we are trying to figure out the easiest way to facilitate getting to one another any chance we can, I am left to wonder how much distance it takes to qualify as a "long distance relationship"?

(That was so Carrie of me, I am literally grinning with pride on this side of the computer.)

I've been all mopey and depressed about our situation, particularly this week, as I've been sick and tucked in to bed for 3 days.  I truly felt the distance between us more than ever, as a snow storm, and every other element that could exist seemed to stand between myself and my man with a cup of chicken noodle soup in hand, all week long.  It didn't help anything that I spent these hours curled up in comforters watching my favorite 90's sitcom 'Mad About You' and knowing Paul Buchman would get to Jamie in a snowstorm if she were sick.  But then I floated back down to reality and realized that though my boyfriend is a comedian, and has very jew-y Paul Reiser esq hair, he isn't a fictional character from any television series or movie, despite what I may want to believe.

So after a very awkward conversation (on my end) last night, which consisted mainly of me sighing heavily and saying "I don't know" over and over again we have resigned to the fact that we are, indeed, in a long distance relationship.  And we (mainly I) need to adjust our (my) expectations accordingly. 

My brother Sean told me something once, which has turned out to be some of the best and worst advice I had ever gotten in my life.  It was after a fight between an ex and I, who was at the time refusing to drive the 45 minutes from Joliet to Aurora to spend the night before my 20th birthday with me.  This leading into one of our 200 breakups.  I had called Sean crying hysterically, much like I had done over this same boy time and time again.  And Sean told me that any guy who wasn't willing to walk 50 miles through a snow storm to get to me, no matter what the occasion was, wasn't worth my time.

This advice has helped me weed through quite a few bad seeds in the past.  I have stopped wasting my time on men who aren't willing to waste their time on me.  But then you have these situations like the one I am in now, where in a literal snow storm I am expecting more from someone who does genuinely care about me, they just can't always get to me when I want them there.  Hence making this piece of advice no longer applicable.  But it's hard to separate that thought that I am worth the impossible journey through a blizzard, because that is the standard I have held men to ever since.

It is what it is.  This relationship is already seeming to be one of the healthier, happier ones I have had in my life.  And it is typical Katie Keller to find something to bitch about just a month in.  But we feel what we feel, regardless of whether or not it is validated by others.  I am going to be sad every now and again that my boyfriend isn't just down the street.  And that when I come home from a bad day at work, he will most likely be on the other side of the world making people laugh.  I just need to be patient, and most importantly grateful that that funny man is going to get home and call me and be MY boyfriend, regardless of how much time passes between nights of falling asleep in each other's arms.