State of the Union

A friend of mine made an insightful comment at my writing group last night.

"Kalesey," he said, "really cherishes her personal space."

He's not wrong.

The very same subject had come up just hours before with me and Mr. Zips. He'd made a similarly insightful comment when he said he realized that there's only a part of me that wants to be in a relationship. The other part wants to be left alone.

He's right.

Wierd thing is, I don't know which part of me I like any more.

It used to be that I loved that I loved my own company. I was the crazy writer cat lady (YOU are a CRAZY cat lady) who had weekends where she spoke to not a single human soul. It meant that I could get lost in my own plots and details. And when I went insane - as I was sure to do - no one was there to get hit by the shrapnel.

But now that I have another (wonderful) human being in my life full time, I find that I'm feeling apologetic -- even guilty -- about wanting to be such a loner.

And this morning, when I woke up in his arms and realized I had to say goodbye to him in a few short whiles, I was genuinely sad.

What this means for me or my future, I have no idea. But at 31, it's probably a good thing that I'm still learning about myself.

From Her Loins

It's no secret that I have no desire to be a breeder. I would be a terrible mother.

But if there's anyone who would (will) be a fabulous mother, it's my friend from high school, Q Valentine.

Take a look at this picture of her precious, angelic, brand new little girl.

This Perfect Day

I went for a walk around Walden Pond today. I probably shouldn't have, since my doctor has told me to stay off my feet until the swelling goes down. (Thirty years old with bunions? Are you kidding me?) But I really needed to get out, go hug some trees.

It was cold but bright, so when the wind calmed down I could feel the warmth of the sun against my skin. The water on the pond is still trying to make up its mind about freezing, and slush was just starting to form around the edges. In a few places, air had been trapped under the ice and came bubbling up to the surface as if some strange undersea creature was letting out its breath in slow, measured exhales.

The winter birds were in full song, darting in and out among bare branches. I played hide and seek with a woodpecker for awhile. He was determined not to let me get a good luck at him, always perching with the sun as a backdrop or darting around to the back of a thick trunk.

Halfway around the pond I started noticing red rose petals strewn along the ground, their bright crimson in stark contrast to the mottled brown leaves underfoot. I have no idea who left the petals -- maybe a heartbroken woman scattering a peace offering from an unfaithful lover. Maybe a black-fingernailed goth girl performing a mystic ritual. Maybe it was just someone who didn't want to put a wilting flower in the garbage can.

It's nice, once in awhile, to have a happy mystery occupy your thoughts while you're out clearing your mind.

The REAL Story of Harry and Sally

I have this friend. In college, he was a good friend, a best friend even. We talked about stuff. Important stuff. Less important stuff. We drank coffee and we drank SoCo. And, yea, there was always a lot of sexual tension. But whatever. In a way, I loved him. Not "loved him loved him," but it probably was love.

And then, one day, we had sex.

And then we didn't talk for a really long time.

And then we started talking again, but only because we pretended that we'd never had sex.

And then we had sex again.

And then, we stopped talking. Not actually. I mean, I still hear from him. We chat occasionally and text often. But we've stopped really talking. Every time I try to have a conversation, it devolves into stories about underwear. Or the lack of underwear. And his efforts to get girls into or out of underwear.

I miss my friend. I miss pointless debates and insightful remarks. I miss having a deep relationship that didn't take a lot of work because we just sort of got each other.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I got to experience some of the world by his side. But I don't know that I ever really wanted to trade a friend for a lover. And now that he's not really either, I'm not sure where that leaves me.

And that makes me sad.

Channeling Summer Weather