Maybe Love

Maybe Love is supposed to be scary, because, as humans, sometimes that is the only time we know we are doing anything right.

Maybe Love isn't always supposed to be out of your mind, crazy intercourse. Maybe Love is giggly oral sex at unexpected times, rubbing each other's feet while you both lay on your backs in bed half asleep and tugging the other in close during naps so that your bum can fit perfectly into that awsome hollow of his hips.

Maybe Love is healthiest when your life is so full without him, that sticking him in there, somewhere, becomes simply delicious.

Maybe Love shows the most when you refuse to make the other smaller than yourself by insisting that you are right. Maybe Love is most evident when you pretend you hardly even notice that she is on her sixth month of unemployment.

Maybe Love ebbs and flows. Maybe Love does go in cycles.

Maybe Love knows that the only way that any of us has failed ourselves is by denying our perfection.

Maybe Love doesn't only give up hoping he'll pick up the bath mat once he is done showering, but starts to realize that the bath mat on the floor means he is safe and well and living in your apartment and, by some beautiful miracle, yours.

Maybe Love can't always feel good every single day of the year. Maybe that is what makes Love so valuable.

Maybe Love will never happen if one waits for the ideal circumstances in life to line up before them.

Maybe Love's success is not meant to be defined by the length of your stay, but by the intensity of your moments, the fullness in which you showed up and the peace that passes over you when you say goodbye.

Maybe Love exists simply to tease us all into trying to define it with our measly little words.

Maybe Love?

Yeah.

Maybe.

Think Yourself Thin

I swear to God, I joined a gym, have only attended 2 and a half times (don't ask), and I could swear that I am getting skinnier. Sure, this could be due to the fact that I have pretty much cut out all sugar from my diet and am eating healthier than ever...but really part of me thinks that even the knowledge that I have a gym membership and INTEND to be fit and buff is making it so. Call it my Science of Mind thinking, call it delusions of grandeur, call it not-having-anything-else-to-blog-about, but perhaps if I just keep that little plastic memebership card tucked in my purse, I will eventually lose so much weight that I will disolve into thin (ahem) air.

While we are on the subject of insanity - I have been observing more acutely my mood swings. They are radical. In one day I can have a true range of feelings about my relationship from naming our children, to changing the locks. I am so up and down about my partnership that I doubt this year if I will need to attend the PNE. Sheesh. What to do about this? Well, there is always job hunting...........

Which brings up another uncontrollable Krista-ism that rears its ugly head when I am interviewing ---- I have totally inability to answer questions with susinct, clear and SHORT sentences. This is what often happens - interviewer starts off by saying, "well, Krista, I just have a few questions for you. first off, what would you say your ideal work environment would look like?" And then, I answer. 20 minutes later a slightly glassy eyed interviewer waits to see if the pause in the noise is ACTUALLY me finishing, and when it seems like that is so, ties up the meeting with, "ooookkaaayyyyy then. no need to ask my other questions, i think that answer about answers everything." WHAT IS UP WITH ME?

I like me. Don't get me wrong. I am critical of myself, but essentially, I like me. Still, these days I can't help, but wonder if all these years I have just been this psychotically moody, hairy, foul breathed, long winded, boring, obnoxious committment-phobe and nobody has ever really had the courage to let me in on it.

Sigh. The musings of a lonely blonde in a too-yellow apartment.

Late night stealth laundry ventures beckon. I must be off.

Talleho neighbours.

don't,not,no

For any of you that haven't kept up to speed let me sum up 'how I've been' since, like, May.

Shitty.

Not that I am a victim. My negativity is of my own making. Not that there haven't been some extremely wonderful moments mixed in with the crap. But basically, the days have seemed longer, the light, darker and all the hard stuff, insurmountable.

So, I take what I know and I know that if I want to start feeling better I had best make some new choices. Take matters into my own hands. But negativity is like a giant snowball and once it gets rolling... so...there Jordan and I were this Sunday, at the Centre, and this guest speaker who happens to be a best seller authour says that to stop the snowball all you need to do is eliminate three simple words.

Don't, not and no.

Inspired by his talk, and on an upward curve ever since returning from Moose Jaw, I forged into this week determined to not (hmmmmm...trying to not NOT) think, say or live the don't/not/no shit bombs. It worked for a couple of days.

But then I spent the last 72 hours job hunting for what feels like the gazillionth month in an empty apartment, phone silent, boyfriend busy. Suddenly, it started to snow in Krista-positive land. Then I realized that Jo and I haven't had sex since I came back and the snow turned to blizzard. The blizzard coaxed me into not going to the gym, because-after-all-I-am-not-desirable-to-my-partner-so-what-is-the-use, and the snowball began a rollin'. Taked to Shelley who is single in Bermuda getting payed tons to play piano and sing and really I was once again in shittyville.

I was doing so well. Tonight I am back to wanting to just leave it all behind, run back home, curl up in bed and give up.

Tonight, I am staring at my partner cooking supper and I am thinking - how did the guy from the swing class end up in my kitchen??

Tonight, I am so disappointed in myself for ending up back inside of my own shitty snowball that I hardly want to be around myself, let alone anybody else.

All I can hope is that tomorrow I will wake up with a sense of renewal. I won't deem my realationship sexually hopeless, I will be excited at the prospect of dropping off resumes and my faith will be restored that the most amazing job or opportunity will sweep me off my feet any day now. I will concentrate on things like the fact that I got Martine an apartment in my building, or how I am going to have my first look at the Communicopia space that I will be redecorating, or how I am healthy and loved and safe in a country that allows me to spend my time wallowing in self-pity.

But what if I don't??

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ------ there is that word!

Maybe it is just as suiting to ask,

but what if I do?

Lonely But Not Alone

They say 'alone but not lonely' but you never hear them say 'lonely but not alone'.

How can sharing your life with someone sometimes make you lonelier than being totally single? I remember last year at this time, sneaking out quietly at this time of night, to go and hang out with Iain and Kevin. I would creep past Kyle's door, careful not to wake him, and skip down the street to Kevin J's apartment where I would throw pebbles at his window because his buzzer didn't work. Up I would go to hang out with this hilarious group of men and after I was done laughing my ass off, I would tiptoe past Kyle's bedroom again and fall into bed just before the birds started singing. I came home alone, fell into my bed alone, but felt the furthest from lonely. I was me. My own person. I had my own little space, my own little bed and enjoyed the men in my life in when I wanted to and left them behind when I wanted to. There were no expectations. There was no one waltzing the streets, my heart in his back pocket. There was no laying in bed at night with the absence of his phone call or his presence in bed beside me to make me feel so easily forgotten. Until I fell in love again, that fateful November night, I was safe from feeling abandoned.

Now, my trust and love fully given to someone else, I so easily feel left. I am transported to my four year old self when I watched, terrified, as my mom drove away from the new baby sitter's house, leaving me alone again. It was only myself, small and blonde, my tearstained face pressed up against that screen door, that I could count on.

Tonight, tears streaming down my 29 year old face, fingers presesd to a laptop keyboard, I can't help but feel that I was right. They will all leave eventually. They will all come and go as they please. Somehow, it isn't safe. Somehow, it isn't fair.

I, Krista Konkin, am leaveable.

I have such joy in my life. My days are filled with such wonderful experiences. I am cared for and supported so totally by so many. But this, this is the underlying terror that plays a soft and direct melody under it all. Perhaps I am not hardwired to be close to anybody. Maybe I am not nearly healed enough to be in love. Then again, maybe everyone feels this way.

Maybe it is merely our universal loneliness that keeps us from truely being alone.

S.E.X.

I am 29 freaking years old. 29. And you know what my experience of sex has been, either through personal experience or through sharing in the experiences of my closest friends? Well, let me tell you.....

Couples who haven't physically touched in any way, shape or form for years; men that say all the right things to get laid and once they've achieved their goal become uninterested, women in so much genital pain that they can't even make it though a love making session, men that can't get or keep their erections, premature ejaculating, couples who have sex all the time but one or the other is secretly HATING it the whole time, women having sex in hopes of finding love, cocky men lovers who don't even know where your clitoris is, men who loooooove blow jobs but have a problem with going down on a woman, everyone having secret crushes and affairs to stimulate the passion in them that their partner neglects to stimulate, jack-rabbit sex, singles who are desperate to have sex even when they know that all the couples out there who could be having it, aren't.

Don't get me wrong...I understand as well as anyone else how mindblowing sex, or intimate and connected sex can cause such an ecstatic power in us that we are fueled for days. But everywhere I look is sexual dysfunction in some form and, interestingly, everywhere I look people are either alone, divorcing or mildly discontent in their current romantic situations.

So we all masturbate until even that becomes too much of a bother. We fill our time going back to school and taking classes so that we can learn another thousand megabites of information, but we have no clue how to make our sexual or romantic relationships work. I love the human race, I feel for us, but sometimes, in a cynical moment, I really think we can be pathetic.

Website is coming along. Job hunting is a killer. The sun is shining daily now and having Jen back consistently is wonderful.

My relationship is up and down. Swings to extremes. Some days I am sure we won't make it. Some days I want to have this man's children. It is a roller coaster and we are just these children of divorce clinging to the sides and trying not to fall out.

And maybe a really good orgasm could fix that. And maybe it couldn't.

But isn't worth a try??