Clean slate?

At least the new semester will bring a new one if a clean one isn't possible. I admit, residues of lackluster semester final grades will still ease its way into the upcoming semester somehow, but I'm hoping for the best. At this point, there is no use in my justifying my academics or my time management skills because frankly, they were not at their best.

This Fall I learned that I couldn't do everything. I forgot how to pace myself. This time, it will be better. Let's hope.

Meanwhile, I'm in love and I can't stop it. Apparently I have been for a long, long time, and only when I was able to look at myself in the mirror this weekend did I realize how real this thing really was.

2010. Time to get serious. Clean slates for everyone, please.

I believe that lovers should be tied together

Lately I've been wishing I had one desire,
Something that would make me never want another,
Something that would make it so that nothing matters,
All would be clearer then

But I guess I'll have to settle for a few brief moments,
And watch it all dissolve into a single second,
And try to write it down into a perfect sonnet,
Or one foolish line

'Cause that's all that you'll get,
So you'll have to accept,
You are here ,
Then you're gone

I believe that lovers should be tied together,
Thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather,
Left there to drown,
Left there to drown in their innocence

But as for me I'm coming to the final chapter,
I've read all of the pages and there's still no answer,
The only words before I know will soon come after,
It’s the only way it can be.

So I stand in the sun,
And I breathe with my lungs,
Trying to spare me the weight of the truth,

Seeing everything you've ever seen was just a mirror,
Spend your whole life sweating in an endless fever,
Laying in a bathtub full of freezing water,
Wishing you were a ghost

But once you knew a girl and you named her Lover,
And danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summers
But autumn came,
She disappeared,
You can't remember
Where she said she was going to

But you know that she's gone,
'Cause she left you a song,
That you don't wanna sing

Singing: I believe that lovers should be chained together,
Thrown into a fire with their songs and letters,
And left there to burn,
Left there to burn in their arrogance

But as for me I'm coming to my final failure,
I've killed myself with changes trying to make things better,
But still ended up becoming something other,
Than what I had planned to be

All right!

Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers,
And laid entwined together on a bed of clover,
And left there to sleep,
Left there to dream of their happiness.

Your balls are in a jar on top of my fridge

Long time no see. In other news: I did get new glasses. Bigger frames. Nothing hipster-obnoxious. But it is visibly bigger. I suppose that makes my corrected field of vision much bigger, no?

Zipping through the semester, there are a couple of things I haven't had a chance to sit down and address. The biggest of these is my persistent desire to see the best in every situation. I guess this is a good thing but not when it prevents me from realizing that somethings are just meant to be left untouched, unfixed, and maybe the mess in front of me isn't a project I can whip back into shape by means of the usual Kate Intervention.

I've spoken to my friends and I've concluded that there are some women who are definitely Type-A. No kidding. These Type-A women, however, hold every aspect of their lives to high standards.

High standards = High expectations.

The latter is not always as snobby as it's made out to be but come on, high expectations lets us become hard-working individuals who strive for nothing short of perfection. Great if you're in Organic Chemistry or Calculus III in college. Not so great if you're in a relationship... sometimes.

Having high expectations leads to two things that are sometimes not always so exclusive:

1. You never settle for anything less than what you feel you deserve and you always end up with "the best."
2. Your demanding air of "high expectations" drives others away because, let's face it, not every Type-A woman attracts a Type-A man who is completely okay subjecting himself to judgment and scrutiny of a woman's "Perfect Man" checklist.

If my whole life, career, and work ethic have all been based off of high expectations, then who am I to start lowering them when it comes to guys? It seems like the only times I've managed to sustain relationships is when I've let the wall down and took the expectation level with it. I don't want to have to resort to mediocrity when it comes to finding the right guy for me.

Basically, the high expectations have given rise to high disappointments. It's like clockwork. I meet a guy, I like said guy, I have expectations for said guy, and then... I start to dislike said guy and the cycle rebirths itself. It's exhausting, it's disposable, and it's downright mentally challenging. There are so many maneuvers and secret attack moves in dating these days that I'm almost missing the bravado all over again.

Where is that guy who will storm in front of me and another potential suitor and say, "No, baby, you're MY girl and I only want you." And then we would be "going steady" after that.

THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN ANYMORE. The damn feminist movement took away men's balls. And gave it to us. And we don't know what to do with all this testosterone except put it in our careers because, hey, guess what? It fucking fails when we use it in relationships.

Sorry, boys, but someone had to wear the pants.

This unsettling feeling I get when I notice that something is "wrong" with the guy is driving me insane. I hope it goes away but I'm scared of what I end up with when I start to ignore that voice in my head that tells me I can do better. I've stopped looking for perfection but I haven't stopped fighting for it. Maybe this whole turning 21 thing will make me see something I've been overlooking.

Maybe.

To get me back on track

I Never - Rilo Kiley

I'm only a woman
Of flesh and bone
And I wept much
We all do
I thought I might die alone
But I had never(x11) met you
So baby be good to me
I've got nothing to give you, you see
except everything, everything, everything, everything
All the good
And the bad
Cause I've been bad
I've lied, cheated, stolen, and been ungrateful for what I had
And I'm afraid habits rule my waking life
I'm scared
And I'm running in my sleep
For you
But all of the oceans and rivers and showers will wash it all away
And make me clean
For you
Cause I had never(x15) met you

So let's take a loan out
Put it down on a house
In a place we've never lived
in a place that exists
In the pages of scripts and
the songs that they sing
And all the beautiful things
That make you weep but
Don't have to make you weak

Cause I never(x27) loved somebody
The way I loved you.

Skirt chaser

I have wanted to look good in higher-waist skirts for as long as they came into "style." I do not have abs of steel, however, so I only look decent in those skirts at the most. When I finally did tone down (I promise there's a point to this) I was able to tuck shirts in and make a really cute outfit. I finally achieved what I waited 2 months for. Well, I didn't just wait; I had to run my ass off. I wasn't really sure why I wasn't as into that look as I thought I would be.

Fast forward.

Isn't it weird how much we really, really want something only to be amused momentarily? It's nothing less than exhilarating to work (hard?) for something important to you. The goal-acquisition process is nothing short of challenging but the whole endeavor is often a journey of its own. It's great to look back on, but once you've achieved it--what next?

Why are so many then-struggling now-famous actors and actresses boozing and coking away their lives only to end up bored and suicidal?

Are we really only attracted to the thrill of the chase and the possibility of not making it? Transitively, did that mean I was attracted to drama? It's a terrible thought because as animated as I am, I hate bringing the d-rama into everyday life, much less my closet.
[And fyi: my outfits are only filled with drama around the same time every year... factor in the days when I am pissed off or tired. I try to make it work but really, a pissy mood will ruin any outfit. I promise. You start wearing a frown and pout everywhere and nobody notices the new Via Spigas you're wearing.]

If the above were true and we are, for the most part, closet (or open) goal-oriented drama queens/kings, then how would be remotely possible to remain satisfied? If The Matrix was right and the question truly drives us, then what happens once the question has been answered? What comes after goal acquisition? Goal satisfaction? I mean, I admit, I did parade myself around in my high waist skirt outfit for a while because I really liked it. Then it got old and I no longer liked it.

I thought about two reasons: either the high waist skirt thing was just way overblown and I overexcited myself (meaning the end goal wasn't really all that and a side of fries) OR I have a seemingly chronic disatisfaction with life once I've gotten what I wanted.

Being the optimist, I chose the former. I thought about it and gave myself several other goals. I am currently happy that I was able to pair those odd giraffe-print pumps from Nine West with other human-like things from my closet. I am currently satisfied with my position as Editor in Chief. I am beyond excited about the grant I received and worked hard to get. But regarding things closer to me, I'm afraid my predicament worsens.

Why am I not happy with something that I thought would really put the icing on the cake? If I feel this weird about something I think I want, how would that translate to career aspirations and you know, that thing... the rest of my life? If I am so off the radar with what I think makes me happy (a small thing like a high waist skirt on my ever-so-small frame), how am I ever going to figure out the bigger things?

Take a womanizer: he is on edge when he is about to make a conquest, but once conquered, he feels unchallenged and unstimulated. He's bound for the next and only momentarily enjoys the last victory. How many challenges more until he's tired? Until he's satisfied? Until he develops erectile dysfunction? Is he going to go on chasing skirts? Do I go on chasing goals instead of enjoying them?

I spent a long time debating, ranting, lecturing, and arguing a perspective that I thought I would be able to maintain over time. I thought I would want something enough to ask another to work hard on it with me. But now that it's mine it suddenly feels a little tight, a little ill-fitting, and a little wrong. Sad to say but I feel like it's turned into yet another high waisted skirt.

The Marketplace

Carrie Bradshaw wrote about relationships and investments once. She said, "When it comes to finance and dating, I couldn't help but wonder: why invest?" I spoke with a financial adviser today who told me about their own company's strategies for retirement savings. I, being a 20-year-old fiscally irresponsible girl, needed to hear this.

I resisted every urge to laugh at every instance I heard "save" and "you can't take this money out." I am a better spender than I am a better saver. The guy told me about putting aside part of my paycheck to diversify my stock portfolio (shut up, I actually just found out what that meant today). He told me about all the different sorts of savings vehicles that existed, and which would be better for what.

Didn't that also apply to my strategies for approaching relationships? I, too, liked to diversify my portfolio; I date multiple guys at once, casually. In other words, I have tiny shares of different stocks. That way, if one goes bad, I didn't invest too much (or own too much) of it to fall down along with it.

The variety of savings vehicles (Money Markets, Certificates of Deposit, Roth IRAs, Cash Value Life Insurance, 401Ks) could be analogous to the different boyfriends/significant others.

• You want something that you can invest a little bit in and take out whenever you're done with it? Get a money market. It's taxed when you get it, when it grows, and when you decide you want to take it out and spend it. In terms of investment, financially and emotionally, you never really get the entire amount--just a little bit more than what you started with.
• You want a summer fling? There's your certificate of deposit. It only grows stronger and stronger for a certain amount of time, but there's always a cut-off date.
• You want something better, bigger, more formidable for the long run, you start investing in your cash value life insurance. You put aside a hefty amount every month from your paycheck. I mean, really, you bust your ass for this one. But you gain equity on it. And should you decide to take some of that money out, you get what you put in. It pays you back and then some in the long run. In other terms, this is your classic relationship.

Interesting, huh?

In the whirlwind of diversifying my portfolio and spending my hard-earned money on frivolous items (and "investments"), I have decided to take a step further and start planning for my retirement that looming in about 45 years. I'm putting aside $75 every month, until I can afford more, towards a 401K, cash value life insurance, and a money market whatchamacallit. This is a huge step. I have debt on my shoulders and I'm sure to incur more.

I have baggage from prior investments, prior attempts to save, and prior mistakes. Planning for the future is a specialty of mine and I'm sure I'm ready for this venture.

So the stock market can go up or down or sideways, but this 20-year-old fiscally irresponsible girl is putting her money where her mouth his and is off the market.

Point of clarification

My summer officially started last Friday after my 3pm mojito and fish tacos but I feel like I'm still on schedule. Don't ask me why I put myself through this because I might a) cry and wonder where my youth is going and/or b) laugh and say "Can't help a ho." Either of the above (not to mention to unique combination of the above) is sure to elicit some raised eyebrows and cockeyed expressions.

ANYWAY!

Isn't it funny how, when you break it down to its core, rules are rarely considerate of moral compasses? I mean, you can run over a cat, squirrel, bunny rabbit, or [insert common rodent species here] and you don't get fined, ticketed, pulled over or arrested. You can run over a damn deer and apparently it's okay because they're so overpopulated that killing one is doing a favor for the foliage. But you run over a human being and you're pretty much in shit. Unless you're Brandy. Then you get away with it.

Rules are set for fairness, for some sense of equality, no? If rules are uniform throughout, nobody can slip through and get away with something. But events are rarely as uniform as the rules that supposedly govern them. Enter my never-ending allusion to relationships.

You can like someone (as in feel every emotion you want to feel for that person) and spend time with that someone and show them you care. But unless they like you back, you're only on the giving and not the receiving end of this relationship. And what if the two of you do decide to reciprocate? The boundaries of expectations are "blurry" or "muddled" unless there is some sort of established understanding, right? The understanding is usually:

1. We are just booty calls. I'll call you when I'm not getting any and nothing's good on TV. I might also text you asking the same thing. Maybe even when you're with your girlfriends or a guy you're just "seeing."
   
2. We are fuck buddies. We dine and ditch as soon as the dirty is done. Every Tuesday. Then maybe I'll go for a cigarette/sandwich afterward.
   
3. We are friends with benefits. We will fool around and hang out and genuinely enjoy each other's company, but don't expect me to introduce you to my parents or my best friends. I didn't mean to introduce you to my friends--they just happened to be at the bowling alley when I decided to go there with you after we got to third base in my basement.
4. We are talking. Apparently we've established a mutual interest but nothing has happened between us yet. I hope something will happen soon because I like you.
5. We are seeing each other. Sure, I talk to other people on the side and hang out with others but I'm taking you more seriously than the rest. Oh, what's this? Your best friend? And your mother? Hi, very nice to meet you.
6. We are dating. No official, exclusive label yet: just a lot of talking, affection, and the occasional PDA in front of a sunset. Oh yeah, sometimes we have sex and sometimes we "make love." I giggle when you say we're doing the latter.
7. We are in a relationship. If you so much as check out another guy/girl I'm going to get really quiet and not talk to you for the rest of the evening until you get the hint and then make it up to me by giving me a foot massage and watching The Notebook with me. We'll have sex but I'll "get a headache" before you get off. Yeah. Suck it. But I love you.

Now tell me with a straight face that these "stages" are as all-inclusive as they are in real life?