Monday, December 30, 2013

jazzy upright bass

I think of him often when I hear a good bass line. It coo's me with its deep moving melody. it makes me think of how convincing me of something came so easily to him.

  • We should probably climb on the roof. yup, good idea; even though I'm terribly afraid of heights   
  • Let's date for 8 months and not end up being together. cool. sounds like we'll fall in love and end up being really sad for the rest our lives!      
  • You should cuddle me. I promise, we'll just cuddle. ok. (it never ends up being JUST CUDDLING.)       
 Fuck. I miss him so much. when I see his face pop up on my newsfeed, I get that giddy feeling and a smile takes over my face. and then I realize the facts:      He will end up on the other side of the country, he will find a nice girl who is preferably infertile, and he will be so passionate about everything he does, and inspire his friends, and fiercely love that nice girl.    And I, well... I'll meet someone. When I have gotten over mixed emotions of online dating and of sifting through the random messages and subdued sexual context. FUCK.

CLEARLY, living on the other side of the country is NOT conducive to dating. So, here we are.

 I made an online profile, I'm answering messages and I'm checking out different candidates. But is this really all it is? 'Cause quite frankly, if we were out on a real live in-person date; I wouldn't be asking you things I saw on your profile. I would have a drink to ease the nerves if you were cute enough, and really let you do all the talking.  I'd slowly win you over with my genuine smile and shyness, and make you realize you talk to much, and then have you continue to talk at me.

Truth be told. this is safe. I get to sit at my computer, with my leggings, a long sweater, a magic bag and now a warm blanket fresh out of the drier! Fuck yes!   I love being fucking cozy.


Saturday, December 21, 2013


oh fuck it.

Sit down, grab like 4 home made cinnamon buns and a big glass of milk, cause this is gonna be sweet.

I've known Tall Paul since I was 19 and dated a mutual friend of ours. I remember the "second" time meeting him. Guy walks right up to me at a house party and is like "Hi, Katie!" and I just kind of stare at him and reply with a "hi?  Uhm, have we met?" He played it cool and explained that we had briefly met after my bands concert , but I felt like deep down, he was slightly hurt that I didn't remember him. 'Cause I felt kind of shitty for it...

Well, let me TELL YOU! I have never forgotten Paul since that moment. I don't know if it was his enthusiasm, confidence, or simply his TALLNESS, but Paul became this permanent fixture in my brain. Maybe I didn't think of him all the time, or even get to know him all that well over the years, but I've always referred him as "tall and damn sexy Paul" (of course only really close girlfriends would have been privy to such sensitive information) but I guess now that this will be all over the internet, well.... now you are too.        Interaction with Paul never really got to the point of just us hanging out until I'd say, last year. I had decided to take him up on an offer of snowboarding, not really thinking that he would want to hit the mountain with me. It was a nice trip, I got to know him a lot better, and it basically ended with him offering to buy me a beer next time he was in town. I don't remember there being any major flirting, or any thing racy. Many stories were shared and smiles were had. overall, it left me thinking, hm. too bad he lives far away.

           Fast forward to August this year: He's in town for a month and I finally decide to head out to an event he is at. I felt like, "you know what? fuck it! I'm going to wear that belly baring crop-top and get some kind of reaction out of him",...... IF indeed he was interested. I'll be honest here, I am a confident woman and I like to think that I have a sense about these things. And I've felt like I may just be his type...... Cause he's always been one of mine.           So I get to the venue for our friends band and he's like the first person I see walking in. He's sitting facing some of his friends and our friends dad and he turn around just as I walk in. and smiles.         Yup. that smile.   that did it.       That smile totally made my night. I'm sure it was just a friendly "oh hey! It's so great to see you again!" smile, but, It hit me hard. That silly, charming, enthusiastic and ridiculously good looking smile gripped my heart strings and put them at ease. I would play it cool tonight. I would enjoy myself. I would get some drinks, and I would slowly make it obvious to him that I would want what was on his mind too.    I made sure to stand tall, in all of my 5'2" glory. I would stand tall: not to attempt to rival his 6'3 stature, but to portray the sense that I can be strong, hold my own.... aaaaand maybe give the illusion that my waist is a bit thinner at the center, and have him want to put a hand there. its a nice place to touch, and to rest a hand.
                 and he did. a few times. Thats when I knew it was cool. It was like an unspoken "yup, lets drink to calm the nerves and flirt some more now." And we did. He bought pretty much every round and every so often, after we would roam the bar and mingle, we would find each other again and continue chatting, and he would happily place his hand on my thigh after we laughed, or place his hand on the small of my back, or on the curve at my side as he leaned in to say something close to my ear.                                       I knew by the time we were at our friends house for an after party, I may have had a bit too much. We mixed some drinks and shared them. and somehow managed to share a spot on the couch, where I blatantly rested by legs up onto his, for all to see. I think this may have been a bit bold. Maybe too obvious. But I figured if he was going to flirt with me in front of everyone, and not be shy about wanting to touch me gently on my back, my leg, then damnit! I was going to try and get close to him.       I remember things ending with us leaving the house and having agreed that we would catch a cab back to my place, and he would stay.            We had just put on our shoes and were walking out of the door when JP runs out to tell us that he would drive us home.   oh man. that was nice of him, but it certainly wasn't music to my ears. The whole ride home, Paul sat in the front seat and reached his right hand around the side of the passenger side (JP has a right wheel drive...) and grabbed for my hand. and held it. and stroked it. and made me want him. and when we got to my apartment, I drunkenly told him "I'd invite you up, but I think I've had too much.. and JP drove us... "  

We never talked about that night until Montreal. and John never knew about Paul grabbing my hand until I told him later in November.      

             Paul lives at the end of a 5 hr plane ride on the eastern side of Canada. and my on my first night there, he kissed me while we cuddled on his apartment couch watching Sunny in Philadelphia.   and I though for a moment, maybe this could work.


Sunday, December 15, 2013

Music to listen to when it's raining outside,

lets start somewhere easy. somewhere.... comfortable.

I'm an introvert. I have always been the type of person who likes to be alone, who craves solitude just so I can become... well, myself again.
I always known this growing up.                I have a large family and we would have dinners for birthdays, holidays and really ANY occasion  quite often.        I would frequently leave a family gathering after about an hour to be by myself because the saturation of human interaction was just too much for me too understand: why I felt lonely, when I was around other people.

   It was most definitely a weird feeling, growing up. Knowing that something about you, made you different than other people. It wasn't that I ever DISLIKED other people... I liked my friends at school, I loved my family, but there always came a time in the day that I had enough of them.... and I needed to be by myself,       for some reason.   I didn't realize why when I was a kid. But I needed to be alone ..... when I did retreat to my room, I usually put on music, laid on my bed, relaxed. Or I would make something, a poem, a drawing... Or more often than not, I would          just           sit         there.     alone.      until I felt O.K. enough to head back into a room filled with people.

Don't misunderstand me: I've NEVER felt uncomfortable with my family. I've never felt like they didn't love or support me in my life. I always knew I was the "blacksheep" in the family, but I never felt like I didn't belong with them.  No matter what I did, or what I tried, or when I tried something drastically different... I always knew they were there to support me.  And I have a feeling they knew I was introverted before I figured it out for myself.

As an adult, being introverted in a customer service job is tricky. I am very friendly, chatty and outgoing in day-to-day life, but I find that I need more down time after work than I ever used to. I go days without speaking to friends or family, not even texting. Its just too much for me some days.                 To help me out, I have become an athlete: I run, I practice yoga, and I lift. All these things give me an excuse to be by myself and work on just me.  Side benefits of these activities include, but are not limited to:

  • A healthier lifestyle = leading to healthier life choices (food, drink etc)
  • A voracious appetite for fresh air
  • A healthy grasp on setting and acheiving goals
  • And not to mention a major self-esteem boost and positive body image
So there you have it.   growing up and becoming the introverted person I am. Next step, tell you how I love meeting people, and the in-between "kate-time" when I crave human interaction. 

all in good time.


Friday, December 6, 2013


So I have a thing for beards.  and men with an odd sense of humour. and men who are completely opposite of anything resembling what society thinks a man should embody/look/act.

I met Malcolm when I was studying music about 5 years ago. Back when I was still figuring out the difference between being a girl who dated boys, to becoming a woman who enjoyed being held, being teased, being kissed passionately and every other delectable action that goes along with intimacy.
                 We never conversed much, aside from the random music hallway glances and that one time when every music student dressed up for halloween and went into the concourse to take group pictures.
 Fast forward to fall/winter 2012/2013 when he began frequenting my coffee shop. Malcolm started working at a store within my mall and was visiting us near every other day. It started with a simple "sup" head nod, without word exchanged most days, he usually got a tall in a grande pike...       I don't precisely remember the moment in which I determined I would pursue him, all I could say is that one day I thought to myself, "fuck yea. I love the blondie beard and crisp blue eyes."    He had asked me what was new and with the line up out the door, I didn't even get a chance to respond. So I had messaged him later via facebook where everyone is a friend of a friend of a mutual friend and so on and so forth.  I had given him my number so we could "catch up, or hang out" with mutual friends and support each others bands. For obvious reasons, both of us had a different agenda.          Our first official date/hangout was at the well known St. Augustine's on Commercial drive. It was January, and I wore the tightest jeans I could fit my ass into with boots, a loose-fitting black blouse and a belt with a bow in the back. He wore jeans and a fitted button down shirt on his thin body. He was maybe 5'7" and most likely only weighed about 10-20 lbs more than me. He had the most devilish smile, an air of unwavered confidence and an intensely intuitive way of gently touching the small of my back.  Needless to say, although his personality pushed him to dominate the majority of conversation, I was in. Whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. I would let him.                              We drunkenly left the bar and he found a route back to his place without main roads, because I was in absolutely NO condition to drive. (I do not, nor do my actions that night condone drinking and driving!)  

     We stumbled up his old narrow steps to the front door and even more up to his room. I was so nervous about what would happen that the entire time I made excuses about wanting to play a game, wanting another drink, anything that would push off any advances... I had a gut feeling that this guy is so passionate in every other aspect of his life, he would undeniably be just as passionate and considerate as a lover.    So he grabbed his iPad and we played scrabble, about 3 games worth. We watched a BBC show on youtube and I ended up passing out on his bed.  

and really, that was it. I slept over. We just slept. we hardly even cuddled really. I woke up the next day and drove home.  unsatisfied?

Well, we hung out 3-4 more times. Much the same way; drinking and playing scrabble, watching youtube, and chatting.  I was so nervous and he was very genuine about keeping a respectful distance until he knew I was comfortable with his closeness.          and It happened when we were sitting on his bed, talking and playing scrabble. I inched next to him and let my legs rest against his, then perhaps a hand would rest on his leg until it was my turn to play a word. Every inch I made closer, he reciprocated.          My heart was beating so fast and I couldn't control the butterflies in my stomach... and then we sat there, with our legs crossed and intertwined, and we just stared at each other,   and then I had to look away. I knew it was going to happen, and I wanted to resist it for just a bit longer.         He leaned in when my head was turned down, and he gently put his lips on mine..... for what seemed like, a long time.  And then he kissed me again, only harder.                    (blank space)           I can't remember much past those initial kisses,     it was one of those "getting lost in the moments" type of thing.   The kind of thing that only happens when you least expect it, with the person you least expect it too, in the most sincerest way.         And he was odd. He was odd in every aspect, and frustrating, and amazing, and endearing, and FUN.  and I had him for a few months. and I learned so much about myself, and how to interact with other people, different people.   and now he needed to do his own thing.

He's been gone a little over a month now, gone to play music on a ship and cruising around tropical places.
 And I still think about him. and dream about him. and message him on facebook. and miss him ]../  

and that was Meerrr.  A person in time that I felt so secure to become myself with, and voice opinions I never knew I had, and to love without conviction or fear, and who loved me in return for ME. that was his thing, that was what he said. it was always "just you" he said he loved. just me.

Because of who I am.  


Monday, November 25, 2013

Russian Dolls

I have no idea where to start. My life has been a cluster -fuck for the past 3 years. I have been manically working towards some sort of stable career and this want to express something creative has been aching inside of me; begging me to find an outlet. I have been burying it away in hopes it will rise up one day, kick me in the face and yell "Kate, the FUCK are you doing? LET ME OUT!"    
    And so here I am, back at it and diving deep into the depths of my tipsy mind for an appropriate way to begin apologizing to myself. fuck. sorry.  :/  

Since I know there are few if any readers, the best place to start is where I left off: The Baseball player.

I will re-upload some of my favourite blogs in hopes of catching you up to speed. But first things first: I thought M was the unquestionable love of my life that I waited a sweet 24 yrs for. He fell hard and fast for me, and once that happened, I needed to act how Jane Austen would describe an "elegant lady" in Pride and Prejudice and deny myself. I needed to wait and wait,  and fucking WAIT to tell him that I felt the same. God damn that was a mistake! Next time, if you feel it, you need to say it. Because shit can take a nasty turn if you hold out for intense feelings to build up to the point of no return. Where infatuation turns into lust, and lust into love, and love turns out to be this whole fucking lie of the constant need to be alongside that significant other just so you might not feel lonely for the next few hours. And then THAT, whatever that is, becomes this silent treatment where no real sentiments are spoken, and instead you just fuck each other and forget the fear of destroying something that has become so fragile that one person is just praying for the easiest way out. yea. that.

Fast forward late summer of 2012, M had opted out of our relationship in need of searching for self-happiness. He was going through a deep depression the majority of our time together and it was not easy coming to terms with the idea that HE DID NOT WANT ME THERE FOR HIM.     I always thought thats what you did for people you love. You stick it out with them through the good times, and the bad.   NOT, obviously, if they didn't want you to.

SO, here I am. A year later, getting tipsy on a vodka, blue curacao, lime and soda mix in my own apartment expecting amazing stories and the perfect words to come to me.  How am I doing so far?

This past year has been a whirlwind of career advancements, deaths in the family, new loves found and a fairly feeble first attempt of venturing out into the city on my own. (I only live in Burnaby, it is close to work, and a fair amount cheaper in rent that places closer to downtown Vancouver.)

I could tell you that the first 3 months without M,....fuck it, his name was MIKE! The first 3 months when he left, and he left cold turkey: as in not even a call, or any follow up text messages checking in. It went from seeing him near every day for the past 2.5 yrs to nothing. nadda. C'est fucking finit. I felt like the whole world could never possibly understand and that this whole in my heart would never heal.
                            I took me a good 2 months to stop crying every day, during which I trained for my first half marathon just to feel good about SOMETHING.  I joined my Grandmothers choir for the second year in a row, she couldn't sing for Christmas due to a stroke in November of last year. Her steep decline was at its peak by January with consistent battles of infection, and then her eventual degeneration by the beginning of March 2013. She had attempted hand writing a "Happy Birthday" sentiment on the card my Papa gave me which ended up looking like a toddlers meaningless blurb of squiggles. She had lost most motor skills by the time I turned 27 on the 27th of February. It was not really a great time for any sort of celebration and yet I managed two of my best friends over for a drink and a heartfelt ushering into my 27th year of life.

My Baba passed away March 11 2013, and I have never quite come to terms with it. She was truly, the only person who understood why I studied music and supported me in every way she could. I'm not upset that she's gone, she fought hard against two different types of cancers the majority of her life and I am very happy for her that her body had not let her linger in such a state that quality of life was seriously obsolete.    I will miss her.

'Till next time.

XOXO, Kate