I would really marry...

I would really marry Mr. Deeds, from the movie of the same title.

I'm NOT an Adam Sandler fan, usually I find him extremely annyoing and often pathetic. But as Mr. Deeds, a still-enjoyable remake of the original masterpiece, Mr. Deeds Goes To Town with Gary Cooper, he's wonderful.

Extremely simple-minded and innocent, but at the same time hard working and thoughtful. He always finds a straight out, clean cut solution to the muddied, bureaucratic New York problems.

He looks to find a easy, happy woman he can take care of and protect.

He's always honest, and able to take the blame.

He breaks the stuffy standards of upper-level society without shame.

He's generous and loyal to friends.

On top of it all, he writes happy, cheesy love poems.

How can I not love him?

I cry

I haven't posted any songs on this blog yet, but it really makes sense that I do. Music helps me handle all my emotions, every feeling. I'd probably go crazy without it.

When I first heard this song, I was driving. I've never liked Kenny Chesney, and was prepared to change the channel, but the beginning was tender, so I paid attention.

By the time he'd finished the first chorus, I had to pull over to the side of the road. I couldn't stop my tears.

I'm not sure why this struck me , but I was overcome anyway. This is the kind of guy you always love, I thought to myself. This is going to be your life story:

some rough, honest, tender musician is going to steal every ounce of love you have, but he won't take care of you like you need. I couldn't get over the idea at first-

I kept thinking about how true it was; this is exactly the man I always fall for.

The lines are all so emotional, so raw. It's exactly that raw emotion that attracts me. I can't stand stuffiness, I'm not

all that much for flowers and candle dinners. But a man being honest, that's the most attractive thing I can think of.

And there's something about the pain, about the obvious baggage and roughness, that also grabs me.

He's been through a lot, he knows he's a drifter, he knows who he is, and he's not nescessarily even proud of it.

But it's him.

I really hope that somehow I'll find a man like this who won't want to go. Who will somehow stay and continue on in his wandering, pirate ways-only he'll let me join in.

I've never dreamed of having a man settle down and stop moving; I'd just want to hold his hand and take on his travels.

Still, every time I hear this song, I feel like crying.

Its one of the most beautiful songs I know.

And welcome back to school...

Winter semester. Parking a mile away, rushing to class in coats and scarves and still trying to look cute. Lugging book bags because you haven't quite yet figured out which classes the book will actually be necessary for. Constant scoping for the perfect friend, and even more, the perfect guy.

Still thinking about Gilbert. It will take awhile for my infatuation to wear off; and there is not one Gilbert-looking person on campus. I sat in the corner of the library, listening to Regina Spektor, reading a sociology article required for our next class. Once in awhile, I glanced up, unconciously still looking for Gilbert. One time I looked up, and caught the eye of a young man heading to use the computers. We locked eyes for a thousandth of a second, and both looked away at the same time. I chuckled to myself as I looked back at my books. Gilbert locked eyes with that Becky, and they both knew. Its in all the movies. I smiled a bit; its not in real life. The glance was nothing, I wasn't in love and neither was he. Movies.

It was twenty or more minutes later when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I glanced up to see that same young gentlemen standing there. I automatically smiled at him:

"hi."

"here." he said, dropping a scrap of paper on my desk. I looked down at it, and he rushed away. Read later (although you prolly can see through the paper) the folded piece said. Of course, I ignored the instruction, and opened the scrap.

You're gorgeous. I'm new here and lonely. Call me (if u want) 304-564-8876 :)

I almost laughed aloud. Apparently the same thing that went through my mind when we made eye contact had taken a very different route in his mind. I stuffed the paper into my bag and kept reading; resisting the urge to turn around and see where he went. Maybe if he looked like Gilbert....

Welcome to the college breeding ground: the library.

An olive branch for Patrick

We hadn't spoken in some time...not since that one day i'd wooed him back from the Other Girl. He was keeping his distance, avoiding me. When I spoke to him, he'd only give the quickest, shortest answer possible, or even act like he hadn't heard me. I was miserable...he had been so sweet!

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. He clocked out and headed for the door, passing me by.

"Hey!" I called out to him. He turned around and looked at me. "Are you mad at me?" I asked. Everything in our friendship had been unspoken. Everything underground. Technically, he had no reason to start treating me differently, even though I knew why. He chuckled nervously.

"no."

"are you sure? you don't even say hi to me!"

"well, the kitchen has been really busy." he mumbled, "i just haven't had time."

"No time to wave or smile? I liked our conversations." I asked, and he nodded sheepishly. We both knew he was lying."Well, I don't want you to be mad at me. I hope I didn't do anything to you." I said. I didn't do anything to him...except not accepted his come-ons. He shook his head.

"Naw." He laughed a bit, smiled, and kept going.

Well, my attempt at continuing friendship had been made. What he did next time was up to him.

I always fall in love with movie characters....

Watched What's Eating Gilbert Grape.

There was the kind of acting that jumps out and draws you in and all of a sudden its real life.

I just wanted to cry with him. Definitely hold cradle his head in my lap and give him a moment of rest. He felt so real, so beautiful. Twisted, turned head. All the things he wants to change, all the things he doesn't understand. But when asked what he really wants: "I wanna be a good guy."

So pretty, too! Pretty wild, windy hair. Pretty brown troubled eyes. That pretty, fine angled jaw. Even a pretty neck.

I loved him for being vulnerable. I loved him for trying to not act vulnerable. I loved him for keeping on. I loved him for his awkwardness. For the slightest hint of a smile, or barely-shown flash of pain.

It was one of the best acted movies I've ever seen. Every character felt so real that it was actually painful to watch. Its a horrible, terrible, ode to human beings' faults.

But all through it was poor, precious Gilbert.

Are there people like that in real life? Just ONE!!!

I would really marry...

Seth Meyers.

Yes, the SNL News Anchor.

They say girls always marry their fathers...which is funny, because he sorta looks like my father.

But I defy any girl not to fall in love with his happy laugh, irresistible smile, and clever eyes.

Plus, who doesn't adore a sense of humor. Seth is one of the main writers for Saturday Night Live.

Please, nobody respond to this with comments on how creepy and wrong he is in real life...I'm in a happy, lovely oblivion in which he is my future husband.

On the trials of being yourself when you don't know yourself, and, etc

"She's a remarkably attractive woman."

"isn't she?"

"there's a certian quality about her, a certian fineness. she seems to be absolutely fine and straight.....i don't know how to descrive the quality. i suppose it's breeding."

I closed the book because I had to go to bed, firmly deciding i wanted those words to be said about me. somehow, i wanted people to immediately notice there was a "certian quality" about me, that i was different and unusual. "absolutely fine and straight" something original and attractive. i definitely wanted that to be me, i decided firmly. i had two days to make it work, two days until college started and i had the chance to be this new person. i stood up and stared into the mirror. there i was, myself. a pretty girl. i'm a pretty girl, especially at night when my eyes somehow get bigger and brighter, and my hair has been messed throughout the day and now looks nearly beachy perfect. I close Hemingway, quite sure that I will be Lady Brett Ashley in school. yeah right. When you read his Farewell To Arms, you thought you were going to be Catherine Barkley. Now i felt convicted. I had fallen in love with so many women, women i'm sure were going to be me. somehow i was convinced tat i could be perfect pieces of all of them. well, why couldn't i? why couldn't i be wide-eyed like Catherine and refined like Brett, while being playful like Zooey Deschanel and ice queen like Angelina Jolie. I could be it all, right? No. At that exact moment, staring into my bathroom mirror, it occured to me. to try to be all of them at once would make me none of them. it would make me an unclear, silly little girl who nobody is interested in because she wasn't anything. she had no defintion. i couldn't do it. i would really have to choose. choose just one, just one of my many female role models who i had so treasured. each time i saw one on tv, read a character, watched a character, i would become her. i couldn't do that. I just have to be Kate.

But who exactly is Kate?

the confession of sins of trying to keep boys that don't belong to you

She was a little taller than me, a little more curvy. Definitely more sophisticated makeup. And she was talking to him. I immediately bristled. Patrick was mine! I suddenly regretted not signaling to him that I wasn't interested. I was very interested...I just couldn't say yes! I wished he could understand. I wasn't like the other girls he knew...he couldn't just invite me out for a weekend at the beach. No matter how badly i wanted to take him up on the offer, i knew i had to say no. And I had said no.Patrick had gotten the message...eventually he stopped hanging around as much, stopped smiling at me from across the room. Boy did I miss it. But i couldn't tell him that...or could I?

Patrick isn't mine, he never was even for a day. If he liked the new girl, why did it matter? But it DID matter-it just did! No matter how hard i tried not to be annoyed, I was. I watched her carefully...did she do anything cuter than me? Did she glance up at him through those ridiculous big mascara eyelashes? I couldn't tell. But they had spoken and she was pretty...and sorta looked like me.

When he came up front to punch out, i looked at him. We hadn't spoken, recently.

"Patrick! You haven't smiled today." i said. "i missed it." there, I got the grin.

"yes i have." he replied.

"well, not at me." i answered. He smiled and reached for the silverware i was folding...YES! He was was off work, but still hanging around. A good sign.

"So how do you do this, anyway?" he asked. I taught him. By the way he was ahead of me, i saw he already knew how. He was just making an excuse to stay. All of a sudden I was beaming. She had nothing on me yet! We chatted like I was familar with, him full of comments on how nar he was. By now, i know nar is surfer slang for awesome. I was ready for it, and smiled back at him. there. Soon enough, the boss shooed him away.

"the owners have been watching you two. they say you're spending too much time together-go date outside of Ledos!" he told me.

"no way, the owners said something! your teasing me!" i gasped. he shook his head.

"no, i swear, they pointed it out to me...said you go out of y'alls way too much to talk." he said. I felt delighted and furious at the same time.

"nu uh! what did you say?"

"i laughed. Told him."

"no you didn't! I'll hate you! don't let anything on!" i gasped at him. he shrugged. "well y'all should get on it and stop bothering us at Ledos." he said. I shook my head. There! That's why he stopped hanging out....the OWNERS had pointed it out! I was so happy I hadn't chased him away. It had been a lousy waitressing day, I had only a few dollars in my pocket. But to heck with you, new girl! That boy's still mine!!

Oh come on, he shouldn't bother me this much

I'm so annoyed. Why am I so upset Patrick is mad at me? Of course he's mad at me! I've freakin refused every offer he's given me! And since I've refused, that means...that means I don't want him. I don't.

No, I really don't. He's foolish.

So why...well, he's sweet. And he's so gentle to me. Of course I hate this. He hasn't been talking to me much. In fact, hardly at all. Last time...

My hands felt sticky pressed against the plastic leather booth. I shuffled my feet under the table, wishing the situation wasn't so painful. The other diners chattered happily, but after months of working at a restaurant, their noise didn't distract me. Patrick looked back and forth from me to the kitchen, obviously wanting to make sure his name wasn't being called to get back to work. I tried to speak again, and i knew he expected I was going to try to say something meaningful. I wanted to say something repairing, something to smooth the awkwardnes...but the situation was just too uncomfortable. He refused to make eye-contact with me, looking past my head or at the silverware i was sliding into napkins. All I wanted in that moment was to hear him say something sincere directly to me. Instead, I was decoding the background message of his careless commentary on his new cell phone: he didn't really want to speak to me. I tried to give him positive feedback, let him know that I really cared: I leaned forward, looked directly at him, even attempted a smile. But I had already lost my chance, Patrick no longer trusted me. We were physically close, sitting face to face in the same booth, and i could tell he wished he had more personal space-he still liked me, and sitting so near was painful.

With every second, it got worse. He wasn't paying attention to me like he used to. he wasn't giving me that grin I was desperate for, dimples and all, his eyes weren't looking down at me with subtle amusement. We both said useless words, about school and his latest party, nothing worthwile. The spoken message was about his new cell phone, the underlying message was that we didn't belong together anymore. Finally, he stood up, said he had to get back to work. I wanted to fight back, my attempt at some relational matience and keeping us strong had failed. But I was too sad to think of anything soothing. I shoved my hands beheath my thighs on the plastic booth and watched his broad retreating shoulders. My message wasn't going through, if he had understood me, he hadn't agreed. His message came through loud and clear: obviously, this relationship was in a ridiculiously fast process of deterioration.

Flashback: when I said no to Ryan (Just to show to the kids reading the post right before that I really had told him, i wasn't just lying to the dude)

Sept 4, 2009:

so i turned down my first offer for a boyfriend. i guess most people would think that it was pathetic and embarassing that this is the first time, since i'm eighteen. a few months ago i would have agreed, feeling ashamed to admit no guy had asked me before, when most girls have had their first boy by twelve at the latest. but it makes sense to me, now. I have nothing to be embarassed about. I was sheltered, sculpted, carefully prepared and groomed. I'm not the regular girl exposed to the world. I was hidden. Its okay, there's nothing wrong about it. I'm smarter and more thoughtful because of it. It had nothing to do with me being unattractive or unwanted. I just didn't have the chance. Now that I have the chance, guys are immediately interested. In fact, I've also turned down four requests for my phone number. I'm starting to adjust to this new world of boys.

Anyway, back to my first refusal. It was Ryan. I also had my first slow dance with Ryan. it was one of those cute, short, shy ones where the couple puts their arms really lightly on eachother and tries to make conversation to make it less awkward. Anyway, Ryan was Nicole's friend. And also Vera's ex. Closely intertwined with two of my best friends. We have been introduced on half a dozen different occasions and events, and finally we discovered that we were no longer just aquantinces, but friends. the next parties we were mutually invited to we talked a lot. he was nice. i casually invited him, along with fifty others, to my graduation party on Facebook. I was surprised to find him a confirmed attender almost immediately. Nicole said he didn't know why he was coming, but he'd stop by. he ended up staying till after eleven. there he asked for my phone number. the next thing i know, i was receiving texts: "so, i don't really know you. i'd like to get to know Kate. What's she like?"

And we started talking...and talking...and then we met at the fair. We spent one wonderful rain soaked day together. i ran with him, barefoot, from barn to barn at the fair, in the pouring rain and streaming mud. i knew he thought it was romantic. i knew he thought it was so cool. i tried to let him know i was just a farm girl and that's what all farm girls did, but i don't think he got the point. he told me no other girl would spend the day in the rain with him. i told him to meet more farmers. we exchanged lists of our favorite bands, and so his next invitation was well planned. A killers concert. Brandon Flowers. My absolute dream band. I flipped with excitement and immediately agreed, but not before asking if i could bring my sister. he kindly agreed, and off we went. i encouraged him to bring his best friend James, and he did. As a foursome, we had a phenomenal time. it was his first real concert. it was my dream band. we screamed along to the words and i danced as best i could smashed between two drunk guys. i could see him watching me taking in the music from the corner of his eye, i could see that he was proud of himself for initating something that made me so happy. we never got a chance to be alone, so he asked me to meet him again three days later. i guessed what was comng, but i agreed.

and there it was. sitting outside Moby Dick's house of kabobs. We had three solid hours of intense, meaningful conversation. I shared a lot of my heart with him, and he did the same. I hear things about him i have a feeling nobody has ever heard before. finally, it came.

"well, um." clears throat, "i actually...the reason i asked you to meet me here was..i don't want to make it awkward or anything, but. i'll just lay it out there. i kinda like you." he managed. i smiled, and nodded.

"yeah?"

"And, i don't know if your dating someone-well, i figure your dating someone..." he trailed off.

"no, i'm not dating anyone. on purpose. umm, i don't see how dating at this time and point in my life makes a lot of sense. its such a huge emotion drainer, so much---i don't know, i don't even know who i am yet. and umm, i haven't seen many dating relationships work out well...actually, only one. and i hate that girl so it doesn't even count. I just don't think it makes sense."

"yeah. that sounds smart."

"thanks. I'm trying to be smart. I'm actually seeing a lot of guys right now, all as friends. everyone is telling me i can't do it. but why not? i'm not sure what i really want right now, and i don't think tying myself-or, i mean, anyone tying themself-down is really smart right now, friendship just seems better."

"i...i really admire that. and, that's cool with me, being friends and all. i'm not proposing or anything." he added quickly, since we had just talked about how all his siblings got married at eighteen. i laughed a little.

"no, i didn't think so. so...that's okay?"

"yeah, sure."

"good. so, how'd i do? i kinda guessed you were gonna ask that...i figure i might have to say that a lot....i practiced. was it okay?" i asked, trying to be light. he smiled a little.

"yeah, no, that was really good. it sounded good."

"not too many umms?"

"no, it was really good."

"well thanks. i hope thats okay." i repeated. i had the feeling i'd lost him already, and i already missed him. Maybe i didn't want Ryan as a boyfriend, at least not now, but i did enjoy his company. he nodded.

there. my first refusal. not too bad. i was kinda proud of myself.

Oh, phooey, Ryan!

my truck, 10:30 pm

"you never have met my parents." he reminded me, driving around the neighborhood. My initial response was to shrug, "so? I don't go and meet my friend's parents." but I knew that would hurt his feelings.

"No, I haven't." I agreed, thinking it was the safest route. Of course he wanted me to meet his parents. All his siblings got married when they were eighteen, it was his turn. And of course the parents must approve.

"Well, we can rent a movie and watch it at home, then. They'll be home." He suggested. I nodded.

"Sure, sounds good." What else was I supposed to say? No, cuz then they'll think we're engaged? I kind of giggled to myself at the idea of his face if I answered like that. So we went to the grocery store and rented Seven Pounds at the Redbox, he said it was amazing. I love Will Smith, so I was ready for it.

on the sofa, 11:00 pm

The movie has been going on, and I've met mom and dad. They look at me so proudly I want to dissolve. Their son got a pretty one. Yay. I try to act casual, and my "acting casual" usually comes across as flirting. I already know this. But I don't know what else to do. I don't want to embarrass him in front of his parents. They're sweet. We're throwing popcorn at each other through the movie. I'm trying to avoid the arm that's sliding around the back of the sofa. The movie is depressing. I'm not concentrating. His mom is still smiling down at me like any moment we're going to break the big news. I make commentary about the movie, ignore the arm, and try to be funny.

back in my truck, 12:47

I shied away when he stroked my hair. I was really smooth about it. I was resting on the car armrest, he reached down, and I just casually raised my head all the while kept up conversation. It was talented of me, because I didn't even leave a moment for him to be awkward. But I'm tired of this. really don't know if I can keep on seeing him- he obviously doesn't get it. I feel terrible, though, he's so sincere. A nice boy, really. Shame I can't like him. Shame he can't be more exciting. Shame he can't be fun and bright and lively, because he really is good. How awful. I've found a good guy who's quite mad about me, but he's flat out dull. I have nothing to find out out about him, and I've only known him six months. I told him, all those six months ago, that I wasn't dating anyone. He seems to have forgotten. I'll have to remind him again. God, I hate that!

Continuation: Say Eisley!

This is Max and Sherri on their wedding day:This is Max and Sherri proving their quirkiness even on their wedding:
This, is a happy couple:
This is a Christmas photo of a still-happy couple:
This, is just plain enviable:

They've only been together since September, so who knows if it'll last. I sincerely hope it does, they are both such....geniune people.

Wait, what? A couple that loves eachother?

So in my uncoupled state, I have come to pure bliss whenever I see a couple in the media who actually seems to care. Of course, I don't know, I've never been in their company and don't know their inside workings and relations, but that's probably a good thing. They give me hope, and at this point, I can't afford to lose a single drop of the hope I've given.

Throughout my blog, I think I'll be adding photos and commentary of couples who bring me this joy. Maybe they'll bring you a bit of joy, too.

For starters, here's Max and Sherri:

This is Sherri, maybe you know her as the lead singer in the band Eisley. She's strange.

This is Max. Maybe you know him as the lead singer of Say Anything. He's strange, too:Here's Max and Sherri happy together:

And I really didn't like the guy, but..

I get a lovely boost from being wanted. I really do, even if it's by loserly or pathetic guys. If they want me, I smile.

Call it a very small, selfish ego. I have discovered, shamedly, that if I don't feel wanted, admired, or noticed on a rather regular basis, I question my attractiveness. If I'm home for days straight and have no reason to go out to the mall and see the men do double-takes as I walk by, I begin to feel ugly. If I work for more than a week without a table of guys winking or leaving their phone numbers on the checks, I tell myself that men never really do like girls with small chests, after all.

I've been home a lot and I haven't really taken much time to make myself feel cute lately. So, of course, as usual, I had begun to sink back into my "you're not really that cute" attitude, which is really the most common.

I was at work and I was serving these three guys, all in their early twenties. One of them was very muscular and blonde and pretty, and he had a hint of a cool accent and I thought he was probably Russian. Whatever he was, I know I smiled at him more than the other two, even while I was making the conscious effort not to.

Because of Russian, it took me awhile to notice the asian guy sitting next to him, but when I did, I started a bit. It looked like...no, it probably wasn't...oh but, it looked like...no, maybe not...but...I dove headfirst.

"Excuse me, is your name Mark?" I asked him. He shook his head,

"No, its Steve, but why?" He asked.

"Oh, well, I have this number-its the only one I've kept-from this guy named Steve." I began, but I was cut off by the other guys.

"He made us come here just to see you! That's why we're here!" they shouted. I smiled, so it was him.

"you kept my number?" he asked. I suddenly panicked-i shouldn't have said that!

"Um, yeah I did-" I stumbled,

"Well why didn't you call me!?"

"I've got a policy of not calling guys that leave their number for me." I said, trying to get some grounding. He shook his head,

"but you kept it. That has to mean something." He said eagerly, and I couldn't think of anything to say. "you should call." he insisted.

"I-I don't know." I said, "I just don't do that." then I rushed off to get their refills.

He followed me up to the counter.

"No, really, when are we going for coffee?" he said. I shrugged.

"please don't expect anything. I'm very shy." I begged. The girl behind me choked a laugh. I am the least shy person I know. He smiled.

"well why did you keep my number?" he asked. I got flustered.

"you were-nice. Every guy who leaves his number is so trashy."

"well, i'm a little trashy." he joked. I laughed and shook my head, and he quickly added "nah, just kidding. Really, when?"

I hurried off again, "I don't know."

As soon as he'd left, rewriting his number and "don't be shy-call!" on the check, I shook myself. I knew exactly why I kept the number; we had both worked at the same radio station and I thought he could maybe help me get a job back there. But I had been thrown when I saw he was still interested, and missed my chance for something clever and cool to end the interest. I would never call him.

But the rest of the day I smiled. I had been wanted, and that was just the little revival my ego needed.

A-ha, I'm still pretty!