Saints and Sailors.

I have been avoiding writing this blog for almost a month now.  Because I was so proud of my ability to internalize the breakup I was going through without having to display my heartbreak on a public platform.  But fuck it.  This is my blog.  This is the one place that I get to write anything and everything that I want to say out loud, and much like I promised myself with my first blog of the year, in a way that no one can interrupt me.  So here it is.  Buckle up, this is going to get ugly.

 

(I'm just kidding.  It's not that bad.  I am just an addict for dramatics.)

 

I entered a relationship at the end of December last year.  I was hesitant to become involved with this person, because we had tried dating a month or so earlier, and it didn't seem to click for me.  Not in the way that I was expecting it to, at least.  I had, and still do, become so accustom to that new boy feeling.  The one that is shared with Erik, Jerod, Andy, and Dan more than others. It's that nervous, butterfly in your stomach, can't breathe when they just touch your hand with theirs feeling.  When I started dating this guy initially that wasn't there for me.  I wanted it to be, desperately, he seemed like someone that would be a good fit for me.  But it wasn't there.  So I ended it before it even had a chance to begin.  Now I am not sure why the next few weeks happened the way they did, more likely than anything I just wanted to keep around the attention he was giving me, but we continued talking.  Talking a lot.  Talking every night on the phone for hours.  And it was in these phone conversations that I began to feel the new boy feelings and I reconsidered why I had ended it in the first place.

 

So we went out.  And it was there.  Just the way I imagined it and needed it to be.  That was at the end of December.  And from then until about 3 weeks ago, things were good.  Not perfect.  But good.  I was happy to be his girlfriend.  Our circumstances were difficult between location, schedules, and transportation.  But I felt despite that we were supportive and patient with one another.  The phone conversations that first made me fall for him became the core of what we were, and the time we did get to spend together was a whole lot of fun.  My friends and family thought he was great.  And I loved doing little special things throughout the time we were together to remind him of just how great I thought that he was.  We had cheeseburger phones, hot wings, inside jokes, and a great physical relationship.  It was hands down one of the healthiest relationships I have ever had.

 

So this is where things get a little hazy for me.  The week leading up to when we broke up wasn't one of our best.  It is hard enough dating someone within the circumstances, but it is even harder when the person you are growing close to isn't the best at vocalizing their own emotions.  And when those things that they say is all you have to go off of 90% of the time, this can be a little rough.  So I got frustrated, and I pushed for more, like typical Katie Keller does.  I didn't expect the events that would follow, but here's how it went down.

 

I get a bunch of cryptic text messages on the afternoon of Easter.  I am no fool.  I have been broken up with enough times to read the signs.  The "I think we need to talk" is never followed with good news.  Like the Mike Birbiglia joke "When a doctor tells you they found something it's never anything good.  They're never like 'We found something in your stomach, its SEASON TICKETS TO THE YANKEES!"  So for the sake of not prolonging the inevitable I picked up the phone and called him.  Which probably was a poor choice seeing as though I was walking into dinner with my family at a very lovely Italian restaurant for Easter supper.  But I also knew I couldn't force down lamb chops and conversation with my folks when I had this impending breakup looming over me.

 

There was a lot of crying, and screaming (on my end, obviously) and the resurrection of Christ became far less important to me.  I tried to salvage dinner with my family, though most of the meal was spent in the bathroom with my sister picking wet pieces of tissue off of my face.  And then I went home and continued to cry for a good 3 days.  Insult was added to injury when I received some of the darkest news I have ever heard concerning my dad's health just hours later.  And that person who had been my rock, my best friend, my constant source of support was no longer there for me.  I felt broken hearted, and overall just broken, when 24 hours earlier, though things weren't looking great for my dad, at least I had him.

 

I was very proud of my ability to stomach the heartache, I did the responsible thing and deleted his number from my phone and got drunk a lot.  This didn't help with the crying, but it numbed everything if for nothing more than a few hours each night.  I stalked his facebook regularly, of course.  But I didn't call.  I didn't text.  I was fully prepared to walk away and deal with the much bigger issues that were at hand in my life.

 

My brother told me something in the midst of what was going on, because once news came out about my dad I didn't talk to my family about the boyfriend situation.  He told me not to feel guilty about being hurt about a boy, despite everything that was going on with our dad.  And this was important for me to hear.  Because up until then I did feel guilty for being heartbroken.  Who am I to feel abandoned and sad when the world is falling down around my dad and the rest of our family?  But what was happening with my family actually amplified the sadness that I had felt over a boy, because that boy once held my hand and let me cry when things with my dad first got real.  And now he was gone.

 

I broke down a week or so later and told him I needed to talk.  I didn't care to discuss the demise of our relationship, and to be honest I wasn't ready to hear why it was over at all.  I just needed my boyfriend to be there for me while bad news was being toppled over with more bad news.  This worked for a few days.  But even in just talking about non-relationship related things, our conversations were just as 'us' as ever.  We laughed, we shared those same inside jokes, and it felt like he'd never really left at all.  These conversations are what set me assail to what I like to refer to as 'desperation island'.  Population : me.

 

So after a few days of great conversations and much needed support on my daddy issues, we were left to have that talk that I don't think either one of us wanted to have.  The one where he, again, reiterates that he doesn't want to date me.  That I am not worth him putting effort into a relationship for.  And that the heartache that I was able to put on the back burner for a few nights was still very much so there.  But this conversation didn't actually end anything because on desperation island relationships don't end, they go on forever with the very little amount of love and affection that is being offered to them, and you pretend that any amount is better than no amount and go with it.  We actually at one point determined that we could continue our physical relationship, though the emotional relationship was no longer being offered to me.

 

Now, I don't like to use this phrase often, and it is only something that occurred to me since I have departed desperation island, but

"Nigga, Please."

Why in a million lonely desperate or not years would I think it would be okay to offer ANYONE my jelly without putting in the effort for an actual relationship?  I mean, yeah, sex is fantastic.  But I have never had any issue getting laid in or out of a relationship.  So if I continue to sleep with him it isn't for the sex, at least not for me.  It is so that I can hold on to some semblance of life prebreakup.  But not for him.  If he wanted to be with me more than just physically he wouldn't have ended our relationship on a high holy day a month ago!  I can and will continue to get laid anytime I feel like, because I have the magical lady parts that give me the power of dialing just about any number in the ol' phone book for a night of rough and tumble fun.  But I'll be damned if he gets to continue reaping the benefits of being in a relationship with me without actually being in one.

 

As far as rekindling the friendship, I guess the lack of phone calls and text messages speak for themselves on his end.  If he did care about me or my dad he isn't doing anything to show it.  So I have resolved to this being another heartbreak that I will wake up eventually one day and be over.  I'm a pretty great girl.  I work really hard to have everything I do, and I love with all of my heart always.  For whomever becomes the next Mr. Katie Keller, they will get the same amount of patience, love and support I tried to offer up to this one.  And maybe that person will be more grateful for what I offer and be more patient with me when I need them to be.

 

Oh yeah, and they will get all the sex they could ever imagine having ;)

Forever Young.

I haven't blogged in a few weeks, because I can't find the right words to say what I think I need to say.  I still don't have them. Nothing I can type here today will ever be big enough, or right enough to honestly reflect the way my heart and head have been lately.

I have experienced a whole lot of heartbreak in my day.  From broken relationships, to personal failures, and many unanswered questions filling all the space between.  Nothing could have prepared me for what the last two weeks has laid out in front of me.  I'm a tough girl.  I have spent 24 years creating the thickest layers of skin to shield me along the way.  But there are things in life, as I am learning, that no amount of protection can prevent from happening.  And from making you feel like someone just kicked you in the chest at full force.  I still wake up every morning, and put on my game face.  I smile and laugh through work and play - and it's only a few moments throughout the day that I let it in.  But when those moments happen I am left breathless. 

Life is too short.  There never seems to be enough time.  The reality I am starting to gather the strength to wrap my head around is that you can't count on any moment you picture in your head for the future.  Whether it be the perfect wedding dress, or holding your first baby in your arms.  There is no promise that you or anyone else will get to those points.  Not that you shouldn't hold on to them, or hope that someday they come true.  But if we could paint the perfect pictures of life, and they would come true on hopes and dreams alone, we would all be millionaires, celebrities, and stand up comedians.  The sad reality is that there is no promise that anyone can make for you, or you can make for yourself, that can truly be kept.  And that is really fucking depressing.

All I can do, all anyone can do, is try to make every moment count.  As cliche as that is to say.  You need to fight and hope and pray - even if there is no promise.  Even when the chances of that hope or promise are a lousy 9%.  I will most likely not get walked down the aisle at my wedding on the arm of my father.  This thought has broken my heart, every minute, of every day for the past 14.  And though that mental image of us dancing to 'Forever Young' in my beautiful red (sorry Mom) dress will never leave my head, it will keep me praying harder than ever until the day I have to accept that as one picture I have painted that I will never be able to physically hang on the wall.

Today my dad took me shopping for a dress to wear at my birthday party tomorrow.  It wasn't a wedding dress.  His eyes didn't well up with tears when I walked out of the dressing room to have him zip up the back.  But we laughed as we crossed through the mall, and we spoke honestly to each other across chicken sandwiches and waffle fries.  More important than any picture, promise, hope, or dream I may conjure up in my head is just knowing that he loves me.  And him knowing that I love him.  And I feel so incredibly blessed that this is breaking my heart, because that means I have a dad that did something right.

I Hate You, Patrick Dempsey.

I want to believe, with all my heart, that romance exists.  That what we all spend countless nights at smoke filled bars searching for, at the end of the day, is someone that makes your heart skip a beat, and the butterflies flutter around your tummy.  This notion is reaffirmed time and time again by television, movies, music and books that I allow myself to latch on to in hopes of living vicariously through characters that are helplessly, romantically, in love.

 

I have yet to experience a relationship like this, though.  Not to say that I haven't had some stellar moments with boyfriends.  But that relationship with McDreamy where he's always there when you need him, to kiss you passionately and tell you everything is going to be okay, or even just place his hand on the small of your back in a room full of people as that reminder of "You're mine", is not something that I have experienced first hand. I don't want to be unrealistic.  And I really do adore my boyfriend for sticking it out with me in our nontraditional, some times very frustrating, circumstance.  But if things were different, if he worked the same hours as me, lived just up the road, and had a constant flow of income, would the relationship be what I imagine in my head the perfect relationship to be?  Or would it just confirm that, circumstance aside, this notion of real romance doesn't truly exist.  If I were to draw it out, specifically, as to how I define this ideal romantic relationship to be, it seems pretty simple to me.  But I am a bit of a dreamer, a bit delusional, and a whole a lot of crazy.  So maybe it's not. 

 

I want to feel appreciated, daily.  I just want a text, or a phone call, or a big hug that says "Thanks for being my girlfriend, I think you're pretty great."  I want my significant other to wake up every once and a while and say "What can I do for my girlfriend today? Make her a sandwich, bring her a 99 cent flower from the gas station, show up at her door in my pajamas with a movie in hand?".  Because I truly believe that as selfish as I can be at times, I am that girlfriend that is constantly thinking up ways to do something special for him.  To remind him that he is great at whatever it is he is doing, to stay up late with hot wings to watch the bulls, or take us out once and a while for a romantic date.  I know how important that validation is to me, so I make it a point to show in every opportunity I can, that he is the one that makes my heart go pitter-patter.

 

I don't want anyone, especially my boyfriend, to think that I am not grateful for the things that I do get out of my relationship.  I am lucky enough to be with someone that I am not afraid to say anything to.  If I am feeling something, unwarranted or not, I know that we can talk about it.  And he will listen and respond in the most supportive way he knows how while still standing up for what he believes is right or wrong.  He makes me laugh, every single day.  And when things are rough, and I ask for a little extra support and patience, it's always granted.  But its the in between stuff, that gray area of expectations that I long for.  Things that don't necessarily need to be done to make a relationship work, but things that I believe I am special enough to deserve.  Things that I am starting to believe may be nothing more than a product of spending countless hours watching Dr. Derek Shepherd and listening to Jason Mraz songs.

 

You know that phrase "beating a dead horse"?  I'm gonna put my stick down.

 

Alive With The Glory of Boy Love

I've been struggling with the transition from teenager to adult for what seems like the past 10 years.  In reality, probably more like 5.  Regardless, every new home, job, boyfriend; it's always a constant battle with myself to make the adult decision when wanting nothing more than to resort back to my high school mentality of 'fuck it, I'll figure it out later'.  As I embark on another new home and a fast approaching one year anniversary with my fabulous music job, I am both equally impressed with how much I've grown as I am aware of how I still am that 13 year old girl in so many ways.

Yesterday was a particularly rough day for me as most of my changing circumstances seemed to come to a head.  I hate the feeling of being between homes.  I have constantly moved just about every year, sometimes twice a year, since I was 19 years old.  And it never gets any easier, and I never seem to procrastinate any less.  It's always stressful, I never have my financial ducks even within a near vicinity of one another, nonetheless in a row.  And time always seems to slip away from me when I have ample notice of my current arrangement coming to an end.  Things with my Dad's health have been up in the air since the end of March, and though he is in great spirits and taking it one day at a time (what else can you do?) there have been set backs and general hiccups that cause me more worry and concern than I like to admit to.  By the end of my work day yesterday, I wanted to create a literal hole (similar to the figurative one I have been digging for quite some time now) and crawl into it indefinitely.

My night was recovered shortly thereafter as I was kidnapped by Curtis and brought from the front door of my job directly to the guys' house.  I quickly ran into Adam's room and retrieved a pair of pajama pants and a comfy shirt, poured myself a glass of wine, and took my spot on the couch.  I have been doing variations of this exact scenario for the last 10 years.  Be it Curtis' apartment, the Plainfield house, Ben's basement, or Dennys.  It's the same people, its the same sounds from the radio, its the same feeling of belonging that was just as necessary at age 13 as it is now.

I am in love with Travis' obnoxious laugh.  I am in love with the booming sound of Curtis' voice saying "Shut up, Travis." immediately after said laughter occurs.  I am in love with how uncomfortably loud the music is played in the car, so loud you can sing every song at the top of your lungs and still no one can hear you.  I'm in love with the sound of Eric playing bass next to Ben mixing 100 new versions of the Mario theme song on his computer.  I am in love with taking a nap on the couch while the guys play 'Call of Duty' for hours.  I am in love with how excited Adam gets when he walks in from work, and there I am in his pants, literally, sitting in his living room.  I am in love with these places, these people, and these times being the only thing I have been this in love with for this long.

So I am going to get older.  I am going to have to start paying all my bills on time and rebuilding my credit score.  I will move and decorate, and then pack everything up and do it over and over again, I'm sure.  But I found my escape from growing up when I was still very young.  And it's nice to know that that escape is still there for me, with those people that know me better than anyone else, after all this time. 

As a side bar : I am moving once again at the end of May.  In my gypsy-esq lifestyle over the past few years I have managed to leave behind most of my funiture and home goods with the exception of my bed and dresser.  Please keep an eye out for furniture or things you or someone you know may be getting rid of or selling cheap.  I am thinking of having a apartment warming party and registering at Target, but that seems unrealistic.  Wine and cheese will be provided shortly after the move for anyone with hands are filled with home goods, wine, or general support and love for the chaos that is my life.  Katie Keller loves you.

39 Cent Cheeseburgers & Peter Gray.

1. To be completely honest, when I think about tax season, I primarily think of really cheap cheeseburgers at McDonald's.  The idea that I am responsible, as an adult, to get things like forms and receipts together and organize my income and worth the way the government expects me to upsets me.  If it's so important to you, government, that these things be filed a certain way by a certain date - than YOU should do my taxes for me.

I'm not really all that torn up about this, but it is the 9th of April, and I am just now getting around to filing my extension paperwork so that I can get my taxes done at some point in the next few months.  I need the money that I should be getting back this year.  No doubt about that.  But its the last thing on my mind right now in the mist of everything else that is going on in my life.  And its unaccounted for money, so I am not dying without it right now.  Hence making the process of doing my taxes seem unnecessary.

2. I decided not to date you quite a few months ago.  I had a nice time with you for a minute.  It's one of the reason I was unsure about committing to the relationship I am currently in.  But that's the thing.  I am in another relationship now.  And even if I weren't, I still made a very conscience decision to no longer date you.  I guess it's fine that you persistently tell me how great I look every time you see me.  I do find it a bit unnecessary that you text me to say goodbye every day that you are here in the store, because you wanted to make sure that I know you want me to have a great week. I guess I am just a little confused by your motives.  I am aware that you too are now in a relationship.  So there is nothing to be gained by your attempts at communication with me because I will continue to feel guilty about blowing you off, and you'll continue to feel rejected.

3. There are some people in my life right now that I absolutely adore, and wish I were closer to.  The people that don't know me all that well, but care enough to try and figure me out.  I am blessed these people are around, and some day I will be together enough to figure them out to.  I hope they stick around long enough to learn that its not that I don't care, I just have some massively tall walls up around myself.  And it takes just as much effort for me to peak my head through to see them, as it does to tear them down and get to me. 


Lastly,
Peter Gray. Tag. You're it.

Magic Johnson Smoked Out Aids

Sometimes I am really awkward.  Like crawl out of my own skin awkward.  I hate days that end like this.  I felt all morning like things were good, and I was secure.  Then, out of no where, this crushing realization of my awkwardness.

I laugh all the time that I am broken.  Because it's hilarious.  I never ever do anything right.  I do everything a little right, and always with good intention.  But I've taken the hardest road, or said too much, or done too little.  I watch myself do these things too, over and over again.  It's like watching myself on video, but in slow motion.  Its like that Mitch Hedberg golfing joke "if you're gonna hit someone you are supposed to scream 'fore', but I was too busying mumbling 'there ain't no way that's gonna hit em'".  That's how I feel watching my slow speed compilation video of disaster after disaster.

I'm not trying to be all mopey and feel sorry for myself.  I just want you to know, that I know what this looks like.  I'm not a stupid person, I'm just broken.  I am sure some point in my life I will be less broken, I don't think I'm doomed or things won't get better, but for the time being I'm just awkward.  Awkward and broken.

Specifically what is going on that is making me feel this way? I'm sure my monthly surge of 'crazy-mones', as my manfriend calls them, isn't helping anything. But I think most of it is just the aftermath of a couple intense weeks.  I've been running hard again these days, burning the candle from both ends.  Work is intense for me.  It's intense for me because I walk this fine line between being a hard worker that puts effort in to what the do, and someone who becomes so emotionally involved with everything I'm doing I make myself crazy and worked up over things, that at the end of the day, are just tasks.  They are just things to get done.  THINGS.  No one lives or dies if I sell a flugelhorn.

And then there is everything else.  Family, friends, boyfriends, apartments, cats, groceries, television, money, moving days, wedding days, sick people, drunk people, stupid people, girls.  'Everything else' is a whole lot of things.  But the important things, more significant than flugelhorns things.  And I never seem to do these things right either.  It's exhausting being aware of how not right I do things most of the time.

But, alas, I have to go to work, I have to do those tasks. As far as the important things, I'm going to have to just continue being awkward until I'm not anymore.  The people that are close to me are constantly subjected to my awkwardness.  And I avoid everyone else, which is awkward in and of itself.  That's just me right now.

"Today you are you, that is truer than true.  There is no one alive who is youer than you."
-Dr. Suess

The Wine Glass is Half Full

I'm not a terribly negative person, and though I am sure there is room
for more positivity in anyone’s life, I also believe that blind
optimism does more harm than good.

I have hit a new level of stress in my life, which is saying something
- I have had some less than great luck in the past 23 years.  But I
feel like right now, this is the worst of things.  And bits and pieces
of the puzzle will fall into place hopefully sooner than later, but
time never seems to be on my side these days.  As much as I
desperately want to put on my happy face and say "the sun WILL come
out tomorrow!", that doesn't restock my freezer with Banquet frozen
dinners, or keep my cell phone from getting shut off.  And even when
I put all those materialistic/money woes aside, I am still
left with a shaky foundation of not knowing if anything in my life
will ever be the same.

My family is undoubtedly the strongest support system I have.  Always
have been, always will be.  My brothers are rock solid in any
situation.  And even if they aren't, they keep it together long enough
to ensure the rest of us are okay.  My mother makes me feel like I
have nothing worth bitching about, this woman has had nothing but bad
news for the past 2 years and pushes through anything stronger than
any woman I have ever known.  My sister - bless her 19 year old heart.
 She is so full of love and unjaded optimism, immediately pushing her
own fears aside to see what can be done to make any situation better.

"It's when you cry just a little, and you laugh in the middle that
you've made it." -Jason Mraz

My father has taught me more than anyone else that laughter makes
anything better.  He's up against a lot right now, but his comedic
timing has been spot on since this started.  He never downplays the
situation, but he'll find the funniest part of it, and make you smile
no matter how impossible that may seem at the time.

We are all going to be okay.  I am going to be okay.  It's not going
to be easy.  I'm exhausted physically and mentally like I've never
been before.  Work seems to be more stressful than usual, my
relationship isn’t the most ideal circumstance at times, and having a
fast approaching moving day hangs heavy over my head always.  But food
always seems to find a way into my belly, and I manage to be at work every day
when I am supposed to be (roughly) without a car of my own.  My friends have
been outstanding, they keep me laughing.  And the boyfriend's kisses are just as
butterfly inducing as they were 3 months ago.

It could always be worse.  Maybe I don’t need to be the most optimistic person,

as long as I always keep my perspective.