On Writing

J just started reading my blog and he loves it.  (I love him even more for saying that!)

He told me that I am so much different here than I am in real life. 

Apparently, I let my guard down here. I seem more vulnerable. I'm so much more bold outside of this text box.
J told me that he wishes I wasn't so critical of myself, and that he can see how much I define myself by what I do, and how I get down on myself because of it. (Who doesn't?) Of course, moderation in all things - I work so I can party, pretty much. But then he told me that what I am, above all things, is a writer.

I finally have the answer to a question that John asked me more than a year and a half ago. I couldn't answer it. And it's bothered me ever since.

I can see my mom rolling her eyes right now. Of course, Katie. We've been saying that for years. (Do I ever listen, Mom?)

The introspective Four in me really loves this sort of examination. I love that there are two separate sides of me. Of course, this is not the whole truth - it's far from it. It's my representation of what I'm experiencing. It's fractured. It's my emotional outpouring, my naive assumptions, my life lessons. It's heavily edited because what I'm honestly thinking isn't always suitable for my grandmother's eyes. (She's an avid reader and one of my biggest supporters. She's basically the best.) I curse now and then and talk about stuff - but I leave a lot of it out. 

There are so many posts that trigger memories for me. I won't even have to write what happened. I like it that way. It's like songs: Whenever I hear Midnight on the Bridge by Ming & Ping, I think of that night leaving someone's house. We were driving and I was staring through the moon roof at the stars and all I could think about was bottling all of that happiness and keeping it forever. The song is linked above. Once you get to the webpage, scroll down to Midnight on the Bridge in the music box on the left hand side. You'll be so happy you did.
My favorite line comes from that song:
"I want to look in your eyes and see your wonderful laughter."
Every time I hear it, I'm thrown from wherever I am at that moment back to that night. And I'm always happy.

Friday, Friday, Friday!
Going out tonight!
Sleeping in tomorrow!
Snowboarding Sunday! - My knees are still green and black and pink and yellow from last week. This could get exciting.

On Work. Sort of.

We had a staff meeting today.
Since I'm the youngest by about twenty years (give or take a few), I sometimes miss "relevant" cultural references.
I've also learned quite a bit. These women are wise. They are hilarious. They take care of me when I need it; they make me laugh; they teach me stuff.
Today, I hadn't heard a song that they were talking about - Dreamweaver? - so we had to play it.
Right then, the head honcho walks in, shakes his head, and walks out.
I am so grateful for this environment.
I'm currently barefoot at my desk.
This is great stuff. I am so lucky.

It's like Phil always says, "We are not what we do."
I mean we are, mostly, but to remind ourselves that we are not just software slaves is a beautiful thing.

Today's song? Slightly Stoopid's Collie Man. It's seriously one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. It reminds me of the summer after my freshman year of college....  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ziNx7V1iA2Y

On Them and You.

J always makes me smile:
We are talking about the communication. It was not odd, just out of the blue.
"I mean, I just don't get it," I'm saying. "She's way out of my league. She's beautiful." I draw out the beautiful, lingering on each syllable.
J agrees. "She's gorgeous!" He says. He extolls her physical virtues for way too long.
"Seriously, J," I snap good-naturedly (I rarely snap good-naturedly. I'm in a great mood.) "Enough! I know how much better looking than me she is."
"Oh," he says, pausing. "Sorry."
We laugh.
"Do you think he fell in love with you?" he asks.
My turn to laugh alone. "No," I say, certain.
Our conversations now revolve around the usual things. Work. School, when I'm thinking about it. My inability to find a suitable mate; his ability to find the best ones. It's a good pattern. We used to meet for platonic margaritas. I miss that.
I wish girlfriends were more lenient. But I get that too. I always hated when H would let his ex get weird around me, which always happened. There's nothing worse than the awkward run in with an ex. She and I faked a good friendship for so long that eventually it started to become real.

But it's gotten me thinking. Can you really be friends with an ex? Should you be?

R(2) invited me to climb Kilimanjaro with him a few weeks ago. Then he invited me to the Bahamas. Such a tease - he knew I couldn't take time off work. I would have gone in a heartbeat. He texts me to comment on my horrible date blogs. He thought the one about him was especially hilarious - he found it when we were still dating. It was all about how to talk to someone sixteen years older than you, the high suicide rate of CPAs, and the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. I loved that post. I would later come to adore the man. We still meet for dinners, drinks, whatever. He still beats me at Scrabble every time. I still love that we drank a bottle of wine from the year I was born. (I love that about men - that they actually have wine from the year you were born.) He always teases me about the bookshelf. He built the first one, I still need him to come and build the second one - it's been nine months. I'll never get around to it.
I still see his friends sometimes. They're great people. Sometimes I'm with him when we all hang out, sometimes I run in to them at bars. We always exchange pleasantries. It's all good on the surface.

You date. You separate. You re-acclimate. Then your relationship becomes something new and beautiful.

E and I have been trying to meet up to hang out for the longest time, going on months now. We should have gone out tonight, but I begged off, still sick and tired. I never want to have fun when I'm sick-grumpy. I wanted to take him to the 1Up, since he's never been, and I think the nerd in him will geek out so hard over life-size Jenga. We're excited to be friends with each other. We had a long conversation a few weeks ago. He'd just run another marathon (gross) and rocked it. I love this. I love that even though we have literally nothing in common (except our love for his dog), we can still sit there and be fun people. Next week. I've entered it into my calendar, to make it real.

My boyfriends always hate that I'm still friends with most of my exes. I don't get why. I think that's a good sign.

I keep bringing up Portland in front of K, for some reason. It stemmed first from public transportation (theirs is so much like ours), then it was the homeless youth, then it was the spiders (HUGE!). He finally asked me what it was about Portland and I had to explain. College, I told him, for a year I did the long distance hell with a kid from Denver who went to school out there.

It was the first time I'd brought up any of the past. I was nervous. I haven't felt the way I do since my junior year of college. I want to keep him. Therefore, I can't just let anything slip out my mouth like it usually does. I want to tread carefully with the past. I have nothing to hide, but, still... I want this exploration of each other to be organic (and USDA approved).

I'm talking to E about it today.
"I can't read him," I say, frustrated.
"You're hard to read, too," she says.

For now, it's wonderful. I'd like for it to stay like this. Nothing's official - it's still in those weird tingly stages. (That was a really gross adjective, I apologize. But I'm sticking with it.) But I like where it's going. I like what it is. I like that he likes me for who I am - awesome.

(Also, and seriously never tell him this because it comes out so creepy unless I explain it properly, he totally fits into my life plan of having my last name hyphenated to B-S. I think it's so badass. Today, my favorite professor from college was telling me to go get my doctorate instead of just my masters and I had the sign in my head: Dr. Barry-Something. And it was beautiful. I will only date people whose last name begins with S from now on. I'm already on my third "S" of the year. This may be a strange 2011 trend, though. I'll enjoy it while it lasts.)

Now that I sound absolutely insane, I'm off to bed.
Work is crazy this week, and I have a half-completed marketing plan that's due by like 10am. Oh great, deadlines. Yay.

On Strep

This picture was taken early in the day. 

By the end, I was frustrated, bruised, and nearly in tears. K was kind enough to make sure I got down the mountain alive, but by the end, I was overwhelmed. Too much ice and too many people, combined with the stress of spending more than half of my time on my butt, knees, or wrists was too much. I was mad at myself; I wanted to do better. I just wanted to stay up, but couldn't. 

I didn't cry, but it was close. I'm paying for it now. Every muscle in my body is a mess. 

But I cant wait to do it again...although, I'd like to wait until the worst of the bruises have healed. 

Here's hoping that next time brings progress!

I woke up yesterday morning with a majorly sore throat. Thinking nothing of it, I headed in to work. My lady boss said that she heard strep in my throat. Since my doctor's office couldn't get me in yesterday or today, they sent me to urgent care (thanks, guys. I appreciate that a lot - nothing like the $50 copay to get me all excited about not feeling good). The doctor who examined me winced when she saw my throat. It was strep, just as G had predicted. 

So I spent yesterday on the Love Sac, curled up with the cat (his worry about my health only extends as far as my ability to feed him), trying to get comfortable. I cried twice yesterday. I am not usually such a cryer, but I know I'm really sick when I just break down. I took a hot bath, trying to calm down and at least get one temperature through my body, but couldn't reach up to get my bra off. So I took a bath with my bra on. 

 I finally fell asleep as the afternoon wore on, and I felt marginally better after my nap. I slept through the second half of the football game and through the night. I'm hoping to get some work done today, lest they think I'm a horrible employee, but I'm also hoping to really get myself back to normal. 

I'm going back to sleep. I'll write something more coherent later, I hope.