I’m finally ready to go home.

I want to know what I’ve learned about myself.
I’m excited to spend some time reconciling my experiences and adventures.

Give me time.

The election!

I’m ashamed that I didn’t vote.
I didn’t think it would be a problem, but as soon as I got here, I realized that absentee voting from Chicago is a bit different than absentee voting from South Africa.
And my mother, the law-abiding citizen that she is, refused to fill in my ballot for me and send it in.

So I didn’t vote.
That makes two elections that I’ve missed since I’ve been a registered voter.
I swear that it will never happen again. You simply can’t not vote.
You want to bitch about laws and policy and elected officials? I won’t listen if you haven’t voted.

Shame on me.

Alas, Hickenlooper is governor and this is a pleasing thing.

Instead of blogging today, I’m reposting a New York Times article written by Senator Evan Bayh.

OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR

Where Do Democrats Go Next?

I want to fall in love and fly away.

I also can’t wait until I can hold Cat Carlos again.
I hope he remembers me.
Maybe he doesn’t.

I also want to go fast down I-25.

I want to hold my drink up in silent salutation to a stranger.

I want to sit outside and drink hot coffee.

I want to write.

I want everything to fall into place.

That last statement may have been a lie.

Ever since I wrote about the possibility of not being able to be tied down, I haven’t heard from John. I wonder if it was something I said, or didn’t say.
Either way, I hope he’s happy.

But I need to amend that post.
There are people who I would love. Who I would gladly stay with, if only they could hold my attention. There’s always a point at which I become immensely disinterested and if I could find someone who never hit that point with me, I’d be madly and truly and deeply in love.

But let’s get to that later. I keep speaking in generalities and I’m afraid that people are internalizing them and trying to paste them on to situations where they might not fit.

I’m exhausted and hungry and am excited to drink beer tonight!
(when am I ever not excited to drink beer?)

What is true love?

Before you stop reading, annoyed that so many of my posts center on the concept of true love or even love itself, don’t.
I’m going to wildly reverse my earlier conclusions. Maybe.

We’re going to think about what it might be like to live in the modern world and therefore, experience the idea of modern love.

The other night I was listening to a Dan Savage podcast while I was trying to fall asleep. For those of you who don’t know him, he’s an advice columnist who focuses on sex and relationship issues. I don’t always agree with him, but I enjoy a lot of the things he has to say. And I was thinking.

I’m usually in an odd romantic situation. If you’re reading this, you most likely know me pretty well (I was going to write “intimately,” but thought it might be mildly inappropriate in this context. ha.). You most likely understand my relationship history, even if it’s the concise and thoroughly edited version.
I have boyfriends, mostly.
But then I have other things, as well. Sometimes boys on the side. Sometimes the briefest yet most intense affairs (I call them affairs although they don’t fit the strict definition of affair, usually). Sometimes casual flirtations. Sometimes deep friendships.

You can’t quite understand what I might be hinting at, but I’m not entirely sure yet either.

Anyway. Here I am, in Cape Town, dating a really nice boy named James. It’s intensely sweet. He’s very caring and of course he thinks I’m divine. I’m whole heartedly attempting to maintain the distance necessary to keep John happy, but selfishly, I hear Hunter’s words in my head: “Until you’re married, the most important person in your life is yourself.”
I feel those words. I live those words.
At home, I still have John, the guy I was dating before I left, although our relationship is up in the air at the moment. We made a deal that we were going to be apart while I was in Cape Town and that we are going to see if things work out when I get back home in December. It was a nice romance, of course, intense in the ways that only I seem to be able to develop.

But is it for real?

Is anything for real?

I was/am very happy with John, but I’m not entirely sure that we had reached the point where I was able to commit. Like, really seriously commit. And I couldn’t have been expected to. It was one month of dating. It felt very comfortable, I won’t lie. But I don’t know if it was everything I wanted. And I don’t know if it’s what I’m going to what.
Knowing I’m going back to it is a double-edged sword. It’s nice to know I’ll have someone I enjoy spending time with but it’s also pressure to be in a relationship I don’t know if I want.
It’s not him, it’s the freedom.
Single Katie really enjoyed 2010. She really came into her own, I think.

I don’t know if anyone can be everything I want.
And I don’t know that I can be anyone’s everything, either.

And that’s what I’m talking about today.
I’m worried that I might be:  either a serial monogamist (someone who likes to date one person at a time, but not for very long) or just someone who can’t be with one person.

I have the most wonderful relationships. I really like putting all of my focus onto one certain person, but in the end, I always end up dissatisfied. The ones who keep my attention (currently there’s only one who’s still got me enthralled against my better judgement, through absolutely no fault of his own or mine, either) seem to have a certain something about them. It used to be a sense of mystery and intrigue, an element of danger, sprinkled with the bits of intelligence I found so endearing, and it still is that. But now it’s something else.
It’s intelligence mixed with the same elements of danger and mystery but I also need a sense of stability, of ingenuity, of employability, of….dare I say it, maturity.
But let’s define maturity another day because I have some thoughts on that as well.

That’s the shift. The need to pick mates based on conversation skills rather than adventure skills.

And while I still have hope that some day someone is going to possess everything I need. In theory, I’d like someone to fit all the facets of my life.
But in reality, I know that chances are I’m not going to find that person. Because my requirements are a bit hard to meet. I need someone who is a broad human being, someone who wants to be in sweats and spend the day curled up on the couch watching the Food Network, someone who wants to learn how to ballroom dance, someone who wants to go skinnydipping and then go talk politics in a bar. Someone who wants to travel. (That’s a big plus on the list of things I love. I want to go everywhere and learn everything.) Someone who likes to read and drink and is socially liberal leaning but a little bit moderate financially. Someone who can teach me something, who makes me strive to be the best person I can be, someone who calls me on my bullshit and supports me and listens. I want to be respected, though. Thoroughly respected.

This man isn’t real.

My favorite times spent with Hunter were the times we’d make dinner together. I’ll never forget being in the kitchen with him. I’d wash dishes – we always a pile a mile high – while he cooked breakfast – we had breakfast for dinner quite often – and music played in the background.

I want someone to cook dinner with.

James is a chef. The other night, he surprised me with dinner. He hasn’t packed my lunch for work in about a week, I need to change that. I think it’s nice. That little bit of extra thought makes my day a lot better.

This is not a tug of war between two men. This is not an America vs. South Africa smack down.
This is me thinking about what I really want that actually doesn’t take into account either of the men currently playing the starring roles in my own romantic comedy.

I don’t know what is going to happen when I get back to Denver. I’m not thinking about that right now. All I’m focusing on is me in the present.

This is my youth.
I’m going to put myself first and I’m not going to consider it a selfish act.
I emailed Madeline the other day and through our conversation, told her that I’m often unable to end things properly when they need to be ended, instead, I let them stew until they boil over. I need to learn that as soon as I know it’s over, it needs to be over.
I need to learn that I’m not letting anyone down easy by leading them on and I’m certainly not helping myself.

I have a knack for finding nice men in dark bars, consider this my saving grace. It’s served me well the past few years and I’m hoping it will continue to serve me well in the future.
I’m off running, following the directions that my heart gives me, hoping they make sense in the end.
So here’s to red wine and indecision, to youth, to reckless love we never thought we’d find, to breakfasts in bed and late night conversations, to candlelit dinners and tearstained pillowcases, to glances from across the room, to jealousy and anger giving way to sweeter sleep, to war and peace and everything in between.
Here’s to triumph and happiness and the rest of my life, come what may.

Will I ever be good at creating a successful relationship?

Should I spend my life as a serial monogamist, rather than being someone who is entirely committed to one human being?

Could I devote myself to one human being?

Hmm…..

I was going to blog about “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” but then I started doing research into criticism of it and I just couldn’t be bothered to put sentences together.
I wasn’t enthralled.
I was captivated, though, but only sort of.

Anyway, new blog layout today. I’m not entirely sure that I’m sold on it, but I already connected all of my Analytics to it and such so I’m not going to mess with it for a few weeks.
Or until I get some better images.

Either way, the one on www.katiebarryincapetown.blogspot.com was taken on a bridge to nowhere. We went for a walk in Tokai and ended up climbing up to a bridge that was built in the 1970s but that doesn’t go anywhere. So I stood out over the M3 and snap.

The new one for here is a lily picture taken in San Francisco at the conservatory. It’s not the best of my lily photos, it fits now.

Alas.

It really does take a lot to piss me off, but there’s a girl here who wears on my nerves. Seriously. There will be further explanation when its safe to divulge, but oh my goodness, she irks me.

Happy Monday, world.

We were halfway down Table Mountain, stopped to talk about EU policies and such.
“Why is everyone so down on Obama?” asks an Australian girl.
I have no answer.

But here’s your question of the day: What have you done to fix the situations you’re so unhappy with?

We spend so much time fighting amongst ourselves (it’s times like these I’m not sure the US could handle any more political parties although it obviously needs them) that we can’t get anything done.

Stop hating the opposite political party and start worrying about the future of YOUR country. It belongs to all of us and not just to one set of people aligned along a certain set of values.
Forget that they are pro-choice and realize that all the bickering is going to drive us straight into the ground.

Yeah, things are bad. Things are bad all over though. You’re not the only ones. The US isn’t the only place. Things are a lot better there than they are a lot of other places.

So do something about it. You want to get involved? Do it. Write your representatives, go do some volunteering, make houses in your community. Don’t just sit on your couch and complain. And don’t blame the man you elected.
He can’t do a whole lot without any support. That’s what the US constitution protects. It has a system of checks and balances in place so that he cannot act alone. And he certainly can’t. It’s not his fault we don’t pass any laws – we’re too busy fillibustering and acting like fools while we parade around and bitch about the state of everything.
So you want something done? You’re going to have to do it yourself. You’re going to have to help your leader change the world.
He’s one man.
And so are you. (Human, man, woman, whatever.)

Last night there was the obligatory girl bonding session which included delicious South African apricot cheese from some vineyards we visited on the wine tour, chocolate filled with mousse, wine, and of course, a girly movie.

From 10 Things I Hate About You (which I now own on DVD and on VHS):

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big, dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick — It even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh — Even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around. And the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you — Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

Can you tell I’m spending too much time on the internet?
At work, I take things as they come, at a plodding pace. It’s nearly eleven o’clock in the morning and all I’ve done today was to read a bunch of emails about Mullen and then walk to Pick N Pay to buy the newspaper we placed on hold yesterday and then cut some stuff out.
Acting as copy girl, I brought my boss some tea and muffins and then I returned to my spot to remain idle.
In a bit, I’m giving out a form to the learners and then will sit with them for forty minutes as they fill out a questionnaire about their presumptions about the world, AIDS, etc.
It’s part of a larger project in which we take a baseline of their worldview and then reassess them after the conclusion of the course. That follow up data is inserted into the same database as the initial assessment and then sent off the foundation for comparison.