Kathleen Claypool's Blog

I just woke up from the an alarming dream. I just have to write this down so that I don’t forget it tomorrow.

I was sitting by myself at the library and my friend came and sat down with me. He told me that he is proud of me and is still there for me if I need him. I asked him where he’s been and he said he was happy.

My friend from my dream is dead. He died my freshman year of college. I miss him all the time because he was my teddy bear. He was one of the first people I met at school and we clicked instantly. He always knew how to have a good time and was there to make everyone smile and live life. The first night I met him he told me he thought I was cute then picked me up and flipped me upside down. He was always there. The last thing I said to him was in the cafeteria. I was getting ready to leave to go to the airport for winter break. I hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and told him I’d see him next year. He hugged and kissed me back and said that he couldn’t wait and to have a good break.

I’m just a little shook up because I haven’t really dreamt about him since it happened. I more or less pushed it out of my mind after the memorial service because I had a full fledged breakdown during it. I don’t know if I’ve cried that hard before or since the night I got the message that he had passed.

Maybe it was him. Maybe he was telling me he’s here for me still.

Maybe.

Women. We take so much for granted today. The opportunities presented to us in modern society are a result of WWI, the progressive era, and a woman commonly overlooked in history, Edith Bolling Galt Wilson.

It is common for universities to have more women than men. Can you imagine if someone hypothesized that would be an outcome of the women’s movement back in the 1920’s? A room would have erupted in laughter considering that Harvard did not even allow women into their law or medical schools. Everyday I go to class and I am surrounded by intelligent, ambitious, modern-day women who are at this university to better themselves and seize the opportunities presented to them. Granted, there are of course the girls who are here to get their MRS. ______ (insert a man’s last name) degree, but those students are becoming fewer and further between.

So how did we get here? How is it that I am able to sit in a lecture hall discussing The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, Common Sense, and other great literary works? How is it that I was able to play ice hockey with boys for the first seven years of my career? The pioneers during WWI and the progressive era made this all attainable. Granted, I could take us back to revolutionary icons such as Joan of Arc or Sacajawea, but I prefer to stick in the past 100 years if that is alright with you. I only wish to focus on the beginnings of the women’s movement here in America as I will save the prime time of feminism for a later date.

Brief history lesson on the time:

Woodrow Wilson was an educated, religious man of peace. His fundamental virtues that led him to aspire for years of isolationism and neutrality were based on these virtues. Fun fact: he is the only president in the history of the United States to have a PhD. This is what led him to focus on educating Americans as to what was occurring in their nation. He also appeared in front of Congress more than any other president because he relied heavily on speaking to the people. He was a devout Presbyterian, which meant that he felt history was dictated. He believed that God did not deliver messages to a person, but rather had already determined what was going to happen. He was quoted as saying, “Sin boldly!” He knew that leaving his neutral position in the war was a sin, but he intended to do so boldly. His third major virtue was his desire for peace. He often said that we needed, “peace without victory,” and that we needed, “peace amongst equals.” He entered the war after years of attempting to maintain neutrality with the mindset that he had to in order to effectively gain peace. Unfortunately, this idea was squashed when the Germans neglected to discontinue the use of submarine warfare… but that’s beside the point. Ultimately, these values of our 28th president held America steady. When we entered the war, however, the real change came.

His wife, Edith Bolling Galt Wilson, was ironically more involved as the first lady than any woman before her. I say this is ironic because before Wilson ultimately gave in to supporting women’s suffrage, he opposed it many times. He also supported segregation and eliminated every African American position held at the federal level. The 19th amendment was adopted under his presidency, however. It is a good thing he set forth to allow this because following his stroke in 1919, Edith became the steward of the executive branch. Her leadership and strength paved the way for the roaring 20’s and the societal shift of the sexes.

“Get out of the kitchen,” became a common propaganda phrase used to get women involved. For the first time, women needed to abort their traditional lives of marrying men, raising children, and living happily (or not-so-happily) ever after to aid or country. We were needed. We were wanted. The women of the time got out of the kitchen and began working in fields unimaginable to them. After the war, the roaring 20’s struck and a new movement began. Women were seen in saloons, wore more revealing clothing, becoming sexually free, and opening their minds to a world outside of the traditional family home. A writer for Harper’s said, “The woman who once was shocked by everything now prided herself on the fact that nothing at all shocked her.” This revolutionary time, however, as a result harmed the American family forever.

William Leuchtenburg, author of The Perils of Prosperity, states, “The more that social usefulness was taken away from the family, the more marriage came to depend on the personalities of the individuals involved, and, since many Americans of both sexes entered marriage with unreasonable expectations, such reliance proved a slender reed.” The divorce rate skyrocketed. The idealistic fantasy of marriage that once was inescapable and a social expectation to be fulfilled became optional if the individuals’ expectations were not met. For the first time, women were leaving marriages and families behind in the pursuit of happiness. Many look back and say this was when the American family died and this was when our domestic problems regarding the lack of traditionally structured families began.

What do I think? I think this is when the world I currently live in was forged. I am 21 years old. If I was living in 1907, I would be married with children and serving my man. I also wouldn’t have a supportive bra…

There are tradeoffs with everything in life. By giving up raising children in the traditional family environment, women gained the opportunity to pursue their own dreams, make their own choices, and attain the educational equality of men. We have evolved into a strong, self-sufficient, liberated sex. There is one thing that I firmly believe in above family, love, or personal beliefs. Education. To be educated and pursue the expansion of our knowledge is something that will continue to better ourselves for the rest of time… or until the sun becomes a red giant and engulfs the world.

Because of WWI, the progressive era, and the bold first lady, Edith Wilson, we are able to attain an education.

Considering the massive amount of writing I have been doing lately, I decided to take some of my poems and convert them into songs. I have since been messing around with recording and have got my groove back.

I took structured singing lessons for years, guitar lessons, piano lessons, violin lessons, and was in choir. It has been awhile, however, since I really shifted my focus back to music and embarked on songwriting. I have always been more interested in anything artistic from photography to writing to music. I love letting my creative side, which I typically hide from people, shine. Tonight, I laid down a very very very rough vocal track for a song called, “Black Love.” I just wanted to get the notes in my head into my computer before I forgot my vision. From here, I am going to add some harmony and clean the guy up. In addition to experimenting with music by myself, I have asked my father to help me out. I have wanted to record a song with him for a long time, but never felt inspired enough to ask. I finally have a vision and I know that his excellent composing and instrumental skills will prove for a bonding, fun experience. Maybe even a good song or two will pop out.

What started as a night filled with reading turned into a night of recording which is now going to turn into a prolonged yoga session followed by more reading. This might be my most productive Monday ever.

I will NEVER… let me repeat NEVER write about my sex life (or lack there-of) on this blog. I find it to be distasteful, classless, and a desperate attempt to appear racy and provocative. I am even slightly embarrassed to write this opening statement, but I have a motive.

I said that I will never discuss my own personal relationships in detail, but I have no problem discussing my neighbor’s raging sex life on here. Reason? I was up until 4:30 am last night listening to her wildly loud session of bumpin’ uglies. We are in month five of this XXX rated Saturday night fun and I am close to my breaking point. From what I can decipher, his name is God and her name is Baby. They love to listen to “Party In The USA” by Miley Cyrus as well as party favorites such as “Don’t Trust Me” by 3OH!3 and “Sexy Bitch.” With such excellent taste in music (gag), I was surprised to find that they are not sexy and passionate, but rather dirty, raunchy, and disrespectful to everyone in the building. I truly believe if I went down nine floors and stood on the street I could hear them. It sounds like something out of a Jackie Treehorn movie. (<<< Stellar movie reference<<<)

One night last semester was genuinely so disgusting that I went into the hall to see if anyone else acknowledged the horror of what was happening. The Japanese couple who live on the other side of her were standing outside giggling and a guy who lives down the hall was standing, smoking a cigarette. I said, “So you guys get the porn channel for free too?” The Asians looked completely lost in translation while the kid down the hall said, “This is better than Cinemax at least.” At that point, I turned and retreated back to my home next to the sex dungeon.

There is such as a thing as respect. It is simple. Don’t pound on the wall we share at 4 in the morning, don’t scream at the top of your lungs (because God knows it isn’t really that good), and don’t… please don’t keep screaming the things you are screaming. It is disturbing. Genuinely disturbing. I had no clue people did these things or that they existed until now. One night, I swear to you that a bowling ball was involved somehow because I heard it hit the floor and then the wall. The worst part about it is that she seems so innocent. She is a plain-jane kind of girl who never has people over, never has parties, and is quiet as a mouse until it’s time to… bow chicka bow bow.

When I told my parents about this closet freak they started laughing and said that while living in Virginia, they had a woman like that who lived above them, but she had different partners every weekend. At least my neighbor believes in monogamy…

I always talk about how writing is my therapy. I am writing about this solely so that I do not walk over and fall into a fit of rage on this girl. I hate confrontation and will avoid it at all costs. I’m hoping this suppresses my anger on the subject for awhile.

The second thing I feel the need to write about tonight is Astrology. I am generally skeptical of anything that science cannot prove. I just might be starting to believe, however. Lately, I have been checking my horoscope at the end of every day to see just how accurate this stuff is. I use www.astrology.com. Yesterday, I decided that I want to start using my free time to volunteer more. I have joined Habitat for Humanity as well as UNICEF, but spent yesterday researching service trips. This was my horoscope that I read at the end of the day…

“Service and volunteering are front and center today, so get to work or dig up a new cause to support. Your energy should be mostly directed outward — that way it’s like an investment and comes back enriched.”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I nearly peed my pants!

Part of my year outlook says, “When it comes to actual total love in your life, 2010 will be better than what you’ve seen the last few years. You’ve probably learned a lot about how you fit into other people’s lives, and you’ll be able to judge your relationships more wisely as a result.”

Lastly, the description of being a Scorpio is like someone wrote it after spending every second of my life with me. Google “Scorpio Description,” if you feel you really know me and I promise you will be blown away by its accuracy.

I think I really am starting to believe in this science considering the fact that it seems fairly accurate and has been around for centuries. It focuses on the way the universe aligns itself. Maybe this stuff should be taken a bit more seriously. Maybe.

I just returned to my apartment after going to see the musical, RENT, with a group of girls. I have to say it was moving, inspirational, and blew my expectations out of the water.

The main theme that struck me when I saw the movie five years ago and struck me tonight seeing it live for the first time is the idea of, “no day but today.” It’s a simple concept, yet so horribly overlooked. The musical emphasizes this point with the disease, HIV, playing a prevalent role in the lives of the characters. It is discouraging that often times people do not have this awakening until faced with a serious illness or life changing moment.

Do we have to experience trauma to understand the urgency that is life? Does someone need to be dying in our arms to realize and say that we love them?

Everyone has a different answer.

For those of you familiar with RENT, during “I’ll Cover You-Reprise” when Collins turned to the audience and began singing the song while mourning the loss of his love, chills went up and down my body. I cried like a five year old kid with a boo boo. My friend turned to me at the end and said, “I have tears in my cleavage.” That requires a lot of crying to occur, folks. The point is, it shook me to my core. Literally, everyone around me was not just crying, but sobbing. It was unbelievably epic in every way.

The most beautiful part about this moment shared with hundreds of strangers is the unfamiliar territory it covers. Collins is mourning the loss of his drag-queen boyfriend, Angel. I guarantee you that there was no one in the theater who could relate to this piece of the puzzle. A building full of white college students and well-to-do white adults were sobbing in unison, not because of who was involved, but because of the emotions flooding over us. I have never before been in a room and thought, “everyone in here gets it,” until tonight. The passion in this song and the raw feelings that wash over the audience represent love lost. That is something everyone there could relate to.

What would it be like to lose the one person you love? Have you lost the one person you love? Will you find someone to love?

Love. It crosses all barriers, colors, experiences, social classes, economic factors. It is the same in every language, culture, and is one of the only feelings I believe is completely universal.

Eat it up because I’m not a particular fan of the word due to its misuse, but tonight I’m preaching this shit.

I believe I finally have faith in society and more importantly, love. I’m not a sap by any means. I can be analytical, guarded, and scared of love again… but I have never stopped believing in the thought. Tonight, I saw that everyone in that building was in the same boat as me. It is the most powerful emotion in the world and cannot be summed up into any words.

I’m a bit of a realist as opposed to being a romantic. I know that if I am married for 30 years, my husband is not going to rush home to give me a pat on the ass and a passionate kiss everyday. Love grows. Love changes. It is whether people change together or apart that dictates their future. I’ve seen marriages end, relationships end, love lose the battle, and people give up. I’ve seen people who live together breakup tragically and people who live across the country get engaged. There is no right formula. There is no perfect relationship. There are only feelings. Your head is useless because we all know your heart becomes a dictator. If it’s worth a shot, take it.

If you want it, go for it. A few moments of being deep in love are worth a broken heart. Being terrified to step up and take a chance with someone new is worth getting rejected if it means that you won’t wonder what might have happened later in life.

Connection. We all feel it. We all know it. There are some people that right away, it just clicks. It works. It is different. These are the people that we need to stop overlooking because of fear. I’m a bit of a hypocrite in this right because as much as I preach, “Be a woman and go for it,” I generally… ahem, always wait for the man to step up to the plate. I may have had an awakening tonight, however. If I can’t get someone out of my head, if I can’t stop smiling when I think about them, if I feel the spark… why wait? If I get rejected I am right back at square one.

Big fucking deal. I can handle that. What I can’t handle is waiting for fate instead of creating my own.

I dont’ sit around waiting for love to come to me. I don’t believe it comes to some people and I am ok knowing it might not be in my future. Some people give up and marry for alternative reasons or never believed in the fickle bitch in the first place. I don’t really care if I get married. I don’t really care if I have children. I care about living in the life I want. The life I want involves me smiling, laughing, and craving more. If I am lucky enough to find someone to share in this and add to my enjoyment of life, then I will embrace love for as long as it lasts. If that is forever, then I will beat the odds and transcend it all. I will be able to die saying I have spent my life happy and had the opportunity to share and grow that with someone else. That is what I see as life long love because to be serious, great sex can only get you so far.

I will never be dependent on love for happiness. I will be dependent on happiness for love.

Chew on that one for a bit.

I have had a super top secret goal of being a published author by the time I graduate college. I finally have an idea, organization, and an outline. I’m all ready to go. Writing the novel will begin this Friday. I aim to finish it by the end of the summer and spend senior year attempting to get it published. I have a title, which will remain undercover as of yet. The basis of the novel will be alternating chapters. For example, one will focus on current studies, societal implications, and common practices of dating. The next chapter will focus on personal stories as well as stories compiled from friends, family, and even relative strangers if they fit into the right place. It will be a critique of romance, love, dating, and the modernity of all of this while in your 20’s. Every dating book seems to focus towards teenagers or people in their 30’s or beyond. This will not give advice, but more so focus on why we do the things we do and how it is impacting society. There will be humor, drama, and things that might hurt a little to read, but it will be accurate and real.

The question I am battling internally with is how much I want to share. There are things that happened I vowed to myself I would take to the grave. Things that only one other person knows happened. Things that are veiled in my mind so I do not have to think about them. Things that if written could possibly help other people. How much is too much?

Clearly all names will be changed if names are even used and no dates or specific details to show a person’s identity will be involved. I don’t feel like getting sued.

I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m a little scared. It’s time to do it, however. I have a lot to say and this blog isn’t fulfilling enough at this point. It’s time to move towards bigger and better things. What this blog helps me with is to unleash my inner thoughts. Often times I will get on here without any intent to write. The second I start my mind is on overload. It might be a bit of a challenge to separate writing the book with writing on here, but hopefully I can keep the two apart.

Tomorrow night I am going to see the musical RENT. I am really looking forward to it. I remember seeing the movie in theaters on a hockey trip four years ago and thinking about the many messages of the movie. It should be a great production considering that two of the original cast members (who were also in the movie) are on this tour. Should be a great night with great people.

Over winter break I had mentioned that things were different and I needed time to process it all. I neglected to resolve this post until now. Reason being I have vowed total honesty on this blog and owe it to myself to write about it. This is what helps me after all and I know that there are some readers of my blog with similar experiences.

It had been awhile since I had thought about everything from the past. I was told by someone that I will always have a scar from what happened, but if I choose to talk about it, I will constantly be reopening that scar. I don’t think this is entirely true. I think the healthy way to process it, even over a year later, is to acknowledge what happened and know my strength. This is empowering as opposed to ignoring the problem. Granted, to think about it is challenging. It is impossible to comprehend it or understand it to this day.

I still can’t pinpoint the moment when it all fell apart. When I do think about the disastrous ending to it all, I always find myself wondering when I should’ve ended it before it reached that peak. My mom, who did not know the severity of the relationship, told me that I would leave when I was ready. I didn’t leave because I was ready, however. I left because he was arrested. I left because I had a police officer telling me that that night would be the worst night of my life and after it was over it would all be easy. I believed him in my moment of weakness.

The worst moment of it all was in court. When the judge’s mallet hit the desk, I knew it was the last time I would ever see the first man I loved. The first person I ever opened up to and gave everything to was never going to be seen again by my eyes. Even in the extreme circumstances, I knew that I at least wanted to say goodbye. I felt we needed at least that little notion of closure. Since then, I have gotten over this missing piece. The memories that I now realize as closure were the moments I departed from it all. Him, friends, Vermont as a whole. I still cannot believe that I let myself slip into a situation that forced me to leave my life in search of health and happiness.

Over a year later. I’m over the anger. I’m over the pain. I’m over the lies. I’m over the betrayal. I’m over the memories. I’m over the loss. I’m over the fear. I’m over the guilt. There are two things that I struggle with now. The first is that I am afraid to show my metaphorical scar. I still have yet to tell some of my closest friends what happened. Even though they have a general idea of my experience, they do not know the details. I am afraid people will judge me for it. I always get the notion that when people find out they either think that I am weak or they keep saying things like, “I’m so sorry you went through that.” I don’t want sympathy because the truth is that I put myself in that situation. I could’ve escaped. I don’t think it makes me weak for staying, however. Obviously now, I know that staying was wrong, but in the moments I clung to him instead of myself, I did so with an idealist view that love would conquer all and it would eventually change. I am terrified that if I do meet someone and move forward with them that when it comes time to share this, they will run. No one wants baggage. It is easy to categorize this as baggage. I don’t see it like that. I see it as an experience that shaped me into becoming a woman. I had to grow up much faster than my friends and classmates as a result of what happened and I am glad that I have. I really do know myself and know what I want out of life. I wasn’t sure I’d make it to 21, so the fact that I am here is a testament to my strength and my undying spirit.

The second struggle as of late is my ability to open up to people. I have dated briefly since then and at this point, I feel I am ready for an actual relationship. That doesn’t mean I am looking for one in any way, but it means I am emotionally ready for someone else. My short encounters with men since then have been fun, but not fulfilling. My problem is that I have solely focused on having fun and getting over it. Well, I’m over it. Now comes the part where I need to reopen myself up. I need to face the fact that I will be hurt again. I will be rejected. I need to be willing to open up despite this fear, however. It is easy to be the fun girl that men want to have a fling with. It is more difficult to be someone of substance worth being in a relationship with. I have seen that because I had to mature quickly, I am a bit undateable by college standards. I am not going through an existential crisis. I am not looking to get totally wasted. I am not looking for a hookup. I am not stressed with school. I am here. I am happy. That is scary as hell for most “boys” close to my age. A girl with her shit together?! RUNNNNNNN!

Two years ago I had none of this. I lacked a brain that challenged the world and thought about life outside of mine. I lacked a heart that was compassionate with any cause greater than my own. I lacked the eyes that could see reality. I lacked a voice that could speak out. This is what I am most proud of. My voice. I used to be terrified that I would say something to upset someone or that I would not be seen as “cool” for speaking out. I am over trying to be cool. I am Kathleen Taylour Claypool. I hate that experiencing domestic violence has helped make me the woman I am, but it has. I do not, however, want that to define me. Things that define me are my love of sports, music, pickles, sweet tea, the Cubs, Lost, yoga, and naked Wednesdays. Yes… I have naked Wednesdays in my apartment. Don’t judge. I close the blinds. I’m a quirky, dorky, independent, self sufficient woman. It is my past experience that gives me the insight to realize these things and voice them to the immensity of the internet.

So where am I? I’m slightly afraid to tell people, even now, what I went through and I am trying hard to open up to people. Not bad for a little over a year later. I am happy. I am healthy. Those are the two things my parents told me they wanted for my life. I guess that means I am successful in this moment. Where do I go from here? I think things can only continue to get better. I have been meeting a tremendous amount of new, exciting people as well as reconnecting with past acquaintances who weren’t given a fair shot.

Consider this a declaration. I am going to be fearless. I am going to be honest. I am going to continue to chug along and not let individuals get me down.

See… talking about it is definitely a healthier approach than ignoring it.

I know that this blog has given other people the strength to speak out for themselves and I know that some people look to posts like this one for support. Knowing that by having the courage to speak out I have given others strength is the greatest reward I have from all of this. I hope to continue doing so and as always, I pledge to remain honest. It is still embarrassing for me to write about this, but it is the truth. Being honest about this is hard, but it is fulfilling.

Yes, some of the poetry I posted the other day was written during this time in my life.

Goodnight.

I am constantly ridiculing people for not having the gumption to go after what they want. I had the most interesting start to my day this morning that pushed that nagging right back in my face.

At 9:30 am I received a text that said, “Hi Kat! This is John. We met Saturday night at Johnny O’s and then at Ian’s pizza after the bars closed. Want to go out with me tonight?”

Ok…

A) I was at Johnny O’s for a total of three minutes because we left instantly for Brothers. I literally talked to no one other than the people I was with.

B) When I was at Ian’s I spoke to no one other than the two people I was there with. Granted, a mystery man payed for my pizza and I have no clue who did it, but I did not talk to anyone.

C) I didn’t give my number out to anyone. I generally find it weird to give a number out at a bar because chances are one of the people will not remember it.

D) I didn’t meet this John person, but I’m really glad he is playing the, “You were so drunk you probably don’t remember,” card. I was not drunk. I had a lovely night with my guy friends. I was the only girl in the group until we got to Brothers, so I know there wasn’t a guy creeping on me because who has the nerve to walk up to 5 guys and 1 girl?

E) I guess I’m just severely creeped out. The only way this makes any sense is if he grabbed my number from a friend and if he was the mystery pizza man.

F) Ugh.

Another night out in Madison. I guess this is karma at its best, however. I am happy to see someone take some initiative and man up a bit, but what a horrendously odd way to do it.

I really hope he doesn’t know my last name or that I have a blog…

Thank you for reading my ridiculous rant.

After that lovey dovey post, I figure I should add some poems on here for once. Some of these very are recent while others are from several years ago. Needless to say, I am more nervous posting these than I am writing anything else. Poems, to me, are like a smell. When I read one I am instantly taken back to the moment I wrote it and the feelings that I was pouring out. Here goes nothing…

Poison for the Soul

Three day old makeup

sticks to the touch

with greased hair

matted in unison

Scratches down the arms and back

sore eyes

allude to the alcohol

that escapes with each word

Your thoughtless memories

only poison the core,

so drink again

to try to forget more.

Wise Words

There is a reason for everything

too many ghost haunt my mind

judgment lurks behind corners waiting

shards of glass fly from his mouth

cutting through me all too easy

I didn’t even fight back

I stare at these walls every night

blank, lifeless

representative of this nonexistent conscious

my glasses are supposed to help me see

how can I see when my vision

is a constant blur with no direction?

My head is high with a fake smile

until I pour it out as I go to sleep each night

praying I can hide these scars

and fight these ghosts

There is a reason for everything

Refill Please?

My bottle is empty.

Pray the dancing children don’t stop.

The roses wilt

turning to a perpetual black,

warning me in due time.

The doors slam.

I lay sewn into the jade carpet

with tears flooding an inescapable room.

My eyes burn through the clock.

Time stops, forcing an acceptance

of the moment lost forever.

The water overflows my lungs.

I gasp in more and reach out for help.

You are usually waiting.

The children sit.

The music has stopped.

Help is nowhere to be found.

Never be Complacent

open the mud vest

let the flowers bloom

adding lilac, rose, daffodil

to the white world

look out through webbed lashes

pucker inflamed, crimson lips

project voices through

the sands and stones

let go of all inhibitions

free minds roam amidst

forgotten passages

lighting the endless flame

The Essence in Time

Twirling around the winding clock

stop the long hand

roll down a grassy knoll

stand up with green on your best suit

walk into work with your head held high

order a chocolate milk

blow bubbles through your straw

drink it as you chew on your forty dollar creature of the sea

smile with a mouth full of metal

while people snicker at you

because they don’t match your heels

Quit running around the numbers

Dance with the hands

Reality

The emptiest moments in her life

are found lying between white sheets with you.

Careless legs, tangled together;

you push her wet hair behind her eager ear

to tell a story that no one else will hear.

If you cut open her stale chest,

you will find a hollow center when she is with you.

Teasing Clouds

The smudged vanilla dangles in the sky,

reaching out to grasp the warmth of the sun

in the hopes of confronting Winter’s bite.

The children linger with their noses

pressed against the frosted panes

wishing the tulips would rise soon

to welcome Spring’s kiss.

Snow turns to clouds,

allowing the rain to seep down,

leaving a stale sent in accompaniment

with the morning dew.

The tulips wave to the sun

as the children scamper out the door.

Twister is my game of choice.

I don’t mean to boast on this one, but honestly… I am the queen of twister. I’ve been playing for close to 16 years probably. That’s a lot of practice. Give me a limb, a color and hunny… I’m on it! Right hand blue, left foot red. Doesn’t matter. With my aggressive, competitive nature that spawned from playing hockey my entire life paired with my cat-like reflexes, it is total domination. Challenge me. No really.

Ok…

Annoyed yet?

I’m annoyed by myself and I’m the one writing it. Of course, I have a point (although I am really that confident in my twister skills).

It seems in an age of endless skepticism and delusional thinking, the game of choice for many is to play with people. No, not in the “wink wink” kind of way, kids. A wise woman once told me if I want someone or something, don’t play games. Don’t sit around hoping for a call. Make the call. It is this kind of advice that has led me to become the, dare I say, robust woman that I am today.

I’m not going to lie to you; I was jonesing to use the word robust. I digress…

It seems as though so many people live in an idealistic fantasy world. Ahem, let me rephrase this. It seems as though so may women live in an idealistic fantasy world. One more time… It seems as though so many girls live in an idealistic fantasy world (as a real woman is over the Disney princess illusion). I find this weak mindedness frustrating. Not pinpointing anyone here, but SO many times I hear from SO many people, “He hasn’t called me, but I want to talk to him. I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Militant Kat is emerging (in a Hulk like fashion) on this one… and I just referred to myself in the third person. Disgusting.

You could get up from that ever so comfortable chair, slip on the floor and crack your skull NEVER to have spoken to the person you wanted to. Why wait for silly games to play out? Make the play. I know I tend to focus on the lack of sacks on most men, but this time I’m pointing the finger at us. Perhaps men wouldn’t be so damn afraid to ask us out if we didn’t play these immature, outdated games.

I cannot write this post without citing the holy book of most modern day women. Cosmopolitan. In this month’s issue I was completely appalled to read the article, “4 Traits Men Find Irresistible.” Men, if you only knew the shit that women are reading every month, you would understand our foolish mentality towards trying to show you that we are interested. Here are the four traits.

1) Ignore him after five minutes.

2) Be comfortable in your own skin.

3) Show off your playful side.

4) Talk about what you really love.

Ok, let’s start with numero uno. What the fuck? Right off the bat we are being told if we are interested in a guy to ignore him after five minutes. Why would I do that? If I was in a situation that I thought was going well and five minutes later the guy was ignoring me and talking to other girls I’d go grab a drink and move on. I literally cannot fathom how someone is okay knowing they suggested this to thousands of women of all ages. Seriously, no wonder men can’t get it right.

Deux. Obviously be comfortable in your own skin. This isn’t that difficult to figure out. Why would a man want to focus on an insecure, compliment-craving child? I agree on this one, but I disagree with telling women that in order to land a man, they need to be comfortable in their skin. What should be in place of this demeaning article is something of the “be happy, be healthy, be yourself, love yourself,” nature. If anyone does these four things, I have to believe that everyone will find them appealing.

Number three. Be yourself. If you are not a playful person by nature and get your sense of satisfaction from researching micro-bacteria, don’t try to be “playful” in an obvious attempt to be alluring and sexy. It will come off as phony. Again, I feel this author should say, “Smile if you feel like it. Be you.” I mean, you don’t need to be “playful” per say to be appealing. A smile can do the trick. Again, what is the first syllable of playful. Play. As in play games. I’m exhausted ripping apart this article, but there is one more “trait.”

Lastly, the author advises to talk about what you really love. I am all about passion. If someone is passionate about something, it is the most attractive thing in the world. I feel, however, that this is often what lands women standing solo with a luke warm drink in hand. When I go out, I want to have fun. I want to laugh. I want to talk to interesting people. That in no way means I want to stand and listen to a stranger discuss their favorite thing about life in great detail. Let’s make a metaphor. A person is a textbook. The first few pages you read should be a brief outline of who they are. After you graze over this information and decide to turn a few pages and spend some more time investigating, THEN you dive deeper into the main points. Feel me?

Oh my goodness, I’ve been raving for 45 minutes about this. After reading this article, however, for the first time I sympathize with the fellas. We are being taught to either wait for the white knight or play games to keep interest. I say be you. Don’t listen to this shit they call advice. Just be you. Why would you want to find the guy of your dreams by playing a part? Hell, I’ll even take this one step further. Why worry about finding the guy of your dreams? As I stated earlier, be happy, be healthy, be yourself, love yourself. That will attract more friends and good people into your life than any kind of game ever can. I can’t guarantee that you will lure in a man or be popular based on a quote by Joss Whedon. He says, “Be yourself… unless you suck.” As humorous as this is, it is true. In any case, be happy. Quit playing games and wondering why you are stuck on the bench. I guess I can’t blame the majority of men for their confusion when we are sending so many mixed signals.

To all my male readers (including Loren Claypool and friends)- consider this an apology for solely focusing on your flaws in this blog before. Now I see. Also, as a wise man once told me, “One bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch.” I generalize, which is admittedly a fault of mine. I’m sure some of you men who have been in 20+ year marriages with oodles of children are dumbfounded by my brash opinions at times. Like I’ve said before, at least I’m thinking about this stuff and putting it out there. Hopefully this post alone depicts my new outlook on this crazy little thing called love.

I love allusions.