I fail. I suck. If I were your pen pal you would have thought I’d died. But I’m alive! I swear!

Welcome to a whole new year  here at CapitolFemme’s little piece on the internet. I have not posted anything in far too long. It isn’t for lack of things to say, believe me. I was just out in the world living. I decided to take a little time off from the internet and interact with my surroundings a bit more. There was less tweeting, less blogging, less blog reading, etc. It was lovely, really, but I missed all of you.

Alright, time for a little catching up. Quite a few things have happened since we were last together. I dated someone for the mere joy of dating. It didn’t work out. I have been sick more times than I care to count (currently getting over bronchitis). I spent my first Christmas home with family as an adult – fun and disastrous. My job gave me a thorough beat down or two. A new femme came in to my group of friends and we battled for the top spot. I opened my eyes (and heart) to someone who’s been in my life for some time but I was afraid of. That one’s still unfolding.

I hope to devote a little more time to all of you. I missed processing and figuring things out here. Plus, I have to tell you the story of the femme-off that took place. Who knew I was so territorial?

I’m happy to be back! What have I missed in your lives?

It isn’t difficult to pay attention to someone when they speak. For some, however, it is difficult to actually listen to what they are hearing and retain the information.

I’ve been told that I would make an excellent secretary/executive assistant/posh housewife because I have the ability to remember small, seemingly insignificant, details about people and the goings on in their lives. In my time as an intern for various companies and people I perfected the art of the “whispered name.” That’s where you swiftly whisper in the ear of your boss the name of the person walking up to you, perhaps adding his wife or children’s names for extra credit, without said person noticing.

It had never occurred to me how this skill – to listen and remember – would be useful in my every day life.

I have had the pleasure of being plunged into social situation with the same group of 20-30 people countless times in the past few weeks. Many of my conversations have gone beyond pleasantries and small talk into more detailed and intimate information about people’s lives. I’ve heard about sick children, annoying mother-in-law visits, ill-fitting clothing, break-up stories (while the ex stands across the room, that was fun), terrible roommates, etc.

You don’t necessarily need to know or hardly remember this shared information, but I find it kind to follow-up and ask how things are going. Is Johnny getting over his cold? How is your mother-in-law doing? How was your presentation on the usefulness of post-it notes? By asking these questions you are showing the person you paid attention during your last encounter as well as making some sort of statement that they are important to you, that you care about them. (I find asking about Dave’s wife’s broken ankle much more meaningful than hi dear, how was your day?) This builds your relationship – platonic, romantic, professional, whathaveyou.

I attended a breakfast this morning with many of the usual suspects. As I was leaving I saw an acquaintance and asked how his event fared the previous weekend. He stopped in his tracks and looked completely taken aback. He had an amazed look on his face and simply said the event was great and thanks for asking, not many people remembered or cared to ask. I was shocked, he’s been talking about this event for a few weeks now – of course I would ask. He had that special sparkle in his eye whenever he was doing promotions and I knew it was important to him.

On my way home it struck me how much we don’t pay attention to what people say. It is one thing to have a conversation with someone and to equally share and engage. But it is another to recall that information and to use  it to better understand and relate to this person (no, I do not mean that you should judge another because of this information). I have a few friends I talk to on almost a daily basis, and whether they live 10 minutes or 10,000 miles, I still know details about their days, their lives, and the people they interact with. Because I ask. Because I take the time to stop talking about myself and my shit (don’t get me wrong, I call to vent and rant all the time) to learn about them and to demonstrate my care for them.

I hope that others do this too. That they stop and ask if Sally won her softball game and how Bobby’s dance recital went. Wouldn’t we all be a little happier to know that someone pays attention and considers us important enough to remember?


There is someone else in my kitchen cooking me dinner.

The kitchen is my holy place. I know where things are. I know how everything works. All the quirks and tricks of each knife and appliance. Having someone else in the kitchen wouldn’t bother me if I hadn’t been kicked out and told to go do something else and wait for dinner.

But, but, you’re in MY kitchen!!

I suppose the larger point here is that I am allowing another person in. In my kitchen, my home, my life. She wants to cook me a birthday dinner and I let her. It has been a long time since I’ve let someone into my life – allowed them to see and experience the real me. But she’s being gentle and understanding. And slowly but surely I am opening up and exposing more of my life to her.

It’s scary, but I’m remembering how nice it can be to have someone else around to care for and fuss over you. She is welcome in my kitchen for now – we’ll see how well she cleans up to determine if she’s welcomed back!


I’ve written this post about a thousand times. In my head, on post-it notes, cocktail napkins, notebooks, emails to myself, epic essays and short, crass statements. There was so much to get out, so much to reflect upon. And every time I wrote something it was completely different than the time before.

But I think the only thing that really matters (or needs to be said) is this:

A full year has gone by. I am an entirely different person, but I am more me today than I have ever been.

I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I don’t need someone to come and rescue me, to sweep me away to their castle. You seem to understand that.

You are my prince charming. You are handsome and kind. You support me in everything that I do. You hold me close when I’m feeling uncertain and scared and provide that extra kick in the ass when I’m being stubborn. You make me want to better myself for me. You push me to my limits, always forcing me to test the waters but never letting me get in over my head.

You are prince charming, but I’m afraid to be your Cinderella. Give me a little time and I know I could be. Don’t give up on me yet. There are still some things I need to do and learn. I’ll let you know when it’s time to wear the glass slipper and ride away in a pumpkin.

But I wanted to say thank you for slaying the dragon, searching for the foot to fit the slipper, battling my evil stepmother. Your deeds and charm have not gone unnoticed, nor will they be forgotten.