Humanity

First dates- online dating again…

I’m getting really good at first dates.

!immediately i realize that if i were supergood at it, i’d be having no more of them at all. so.

damn.

but.

okay, little regrouping.

wait, wait.  am i judging success by ‘finding a mate’?  well, thats out of my hands, actually.  depends on the mate, the stars aligning, the universal (ok, maybe not) acknowledgement that I am open for a “love” encounter.  it makes me want to throw up that i just wrote that.

I am really good at surviving a first date.  i like people, i am curious about people.  of course i notice if they don’t listen to me or laugh at my jokes, but i’m still invigorated by the one on one dialogue.

and then, of course, another digression:

it was suggested that i need to get out into community more, ACTUAL people, not virtual, and as i was riding to my first date, i realized i might be using all these dates to just avoid trying to fill my weekends with things i want to do and see, but have to do and see alone… dates as humanity avoidance, ? hows that?

so, of course, i have nerves beforehand, but its all to do with me, nothing to do with him, because i have no idea who they are, so i can barely make up any story in my head. its awesome.  and i’m pretty sure to send a dorky picture of myself along because i don’t want anyone expecting anything different than that… lets be real here…even if i was in my sassiest outfit, i’d still end up cracking myself up over eggs or coffee or whatnot…

i try to wear jeans and a top, all season gear.  its winter now so a sweater the size of texas is pretty typical. although i do like to hint at my curves. i try not to wear a hat, but sometimes i fail at this.  winter.  i don’t wear makeup so there’s no ‘face’ to fix.

i just figure if i want to dazzle a man, it would be nice to do it when they actually care for me, later on…as a surprise… oh my gosh, she’s so damn funny AND can dress up?!

oh my god, today’s date was lovely, but mostly because i woke up late, all my ‘date clothes’ were wet in the dryer so i just threw on what was clean and ran, because ‘late is hate’ … so no pre-date jitters at all. and he seemed okay with it, though i did not tell him i’d forgotten to brush my teeth. i did brush my hair though, so, win. he was nice, smart and different.

i don’t know what men think of all this, but they’ve mostly all wanted a second try.

close up photography of bulb on water
Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

and therein lies the flashing light that signals kate’s ACTUAL state:  i am deathly scared of a second date.

sigh.

everyone has something.

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Humanity

thinks

it used to be that the heroes vanquished the dragons. now, i wonder how we could all become dragons.

 what would happen if i actually did stop feeding them? 

8, such a pretty curvature.

low-lying pants still haven’t died out. i’m still not interested in seeing what kind of underwear you guys are wearing. still. and now i’m 44. i’m so old. why is that style still around? everything else has gone the way of the dodo and then returned. why has this one never left? thank god skinny pants also exist. at least there is variety. but skinny pants lying low so i still see your butt? damn, man, stop.  

You are allowed to be in a season of discovery and deep repair. You are allowed to be unformed and wordless as you change. You are allowed to pour time and energy into inner transformations that no one can see but you.   www.maraglatzel.com in an email… 

Anna Viola Lovind was talking about safety today, and creation… over on instagram. its so beautiful, and i’m all up in it.  I don’t even know if you can link to instagram like this… but she’s @annaviolalovind and its worth watching her there, for beauty’s sake.

today i sent my 13 year old boy to a school that had a threat yesterday.  we got a call from the superintendent last night saying that they, and the police, were taking it very seriously, and school would run normally today, wednesday. this morning i called the police station to assure myself that the threat had been removed.  WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.  the world. the community. we’ve already all failed. WHAT THE FUCK. i sent him because he had a basketball game and he would not want to miss that.  FUCK .  FUUUUUUUCK. my heart hurts. minute to minute. hurts. 

I thumped my chest this morning, with my sick kid, because WE are Glorious. still. 

I miss holding hands with someone. If you can, go do that. Don’t take it for granted.BarnPhotoi dream of a barn like this, as an art studio, or a house for me in my old age… i’m not that complicated, as it turns out. also, interesting to note: do i really envision sharing it? can i ? 

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Divorce, Humanity

Little bit fallen.

this one’s a little tricky.  so- –  it was a surprise to me to be sitting with my ex and his girlfriend at two sporting events this weekend, in the same day.  it was ‘my weekend’ and wasn’t expecting to see him at all… so i was traipsing between birthday parties and soccer and basketball and lunch-out… like all the days of life….it was busy and i needed to call on my mom and hero brother to do some of the maneuvering, in order to fit it all in.

and in the past, i’ve been given a little warning that it would happen. but i suppose that time has passed.

i am so thankful for the experience, really.  it shows me how far i have come and how much there is still to go.  i can make eye contact with her, fairly easily, at this point.  but not him.  that man i used to call HubsJ.  Watching them have intimacy in that casual way of couples doesn’t hurt at all in the jealousy way, which was very nice to notice…

but it hurts in the way of ‘none of it is real’ way…  if it was false for me, it will be false for her. . . if it was so false for me, how will i ever know when its not?

…. and i am not really sure how to incorporate those things into my world view.  THAT hurts.

The small piece of me that wants them ostracized for the total annihilation of myself is small. really small. but burns pretty brightly in my self-critique.  Maybe I would’ve brushed my hair or something ? but that’s only a maybe, because i live my life pretty damn well, and hair-brushing isn’t a thing that hits my list very often.

–In my self-critique, it is the small fire of ‘revenge’ and ‘judgement’ that I’m so harsh on.  I do feel both, that J is a monster, and that J is not a monster.  Both. and I want everyone to know, both. and the vaguery of this, and the fogginess of it…

–and i do, i do want people to rub my shoulder and love me up for surviving the experience. because man, it really is a fucking doozy.   and, i mean the marriage and i mean the basketball game.

my kids like her mostly, and i’m very happy about that.  and it continues, for me, to never be about her, specifically.  its all about J. and his utterly vacuous cluelessness.  And its about my embarassment .  my feeling of fear, exposure and judgement, failure.  i own it. i’m completely overtaken by it when i’m ‘outed’ in public like this.

I try to congratulate myself for being ‘big enough’ to sit with them. but it only works in hindsight and when I’m trying to be self-congratulatory.  (aha. doubly so.)

and in truth, it needs to be more ABOUT ME. JUST ME.  Me, SOLA e CONTENT.  me, the woman at the game with her kids, meeting her former in-laws and watching her kid leave his soul on the court. thats it. thats all it is.

I spent an awful lot of my life making everything about him. and that is not how my life is supposed to go.

there is a hell of a lot more to me than wifed or unwifed.

i don’t really want to post this one.  Wish I could tell you I was all done with all of this.

But I’m not.

closeup photo of black and green foosball table
Photo by Soumya Ranjan on Pexels.com

 

Humanity

Friday Freewrite. first.

I remember was the prompt. Put it first.

1/23/19

 

I remember the stone wall out my window, the purple of the metal decoration flashes itself daily amidst the grey greens of the winter wall.  

I remember the first child being born, though not the moment i first saw him, the relief, the relief that he had come out and the end was nigh. And then it wasn’t… but that moment. I remember . he’s out! And i’m alive and he’s alive and we are a love.

I remember the way i felt this week, crying by the unfixable sofa and wanting to rage and break things.  

I remember my feeling of inability, not enoughness, i remember being mad at all the people that i don’t even know, that aren’t here, the potentials that aren’t materializing. The block i must have on moving through to intimacy, or a desire for intimacy. . .

I remember intimacy, and how it takes so much longer than i think .  i remember less doubt, somehow, I remember what it is like to tuck my head into someone’s chest, and rest there. And feel warmth there.

I remember that the practice of accepting them helps me accept myself.

And i remember when i was better at that.

I remember the birth of the second and the speed and novelty and relief and flood of him. I remember the irritation at the men for chatting while i was laboring.  Paha, now. But still, i remember. I remember my sister struggling so with watching my labor.

I remember myself in the window of my marriage, looking out at the cars passing by, wishful. Thats how i remember myself.  Slowly drooping.

I remember the birth of my last. Hopeful for the home birth. So tired. Riding along to the hospital. So quick, with a little relaxation, to resolve. To spin, to arrive.

I remember.  

I remember to snack in the middle of free writes, the green bowl beside me a testament to my powers of distraction.  

I remember that i have a date tonight. I remember the feeling of futility and utility … the need to keep in practice.

I remember this is why i am here. A life of practice. Practice that becomes the substance.

I remember liking what i write.

I remember stopping when i feel like it.

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