Posts Tagged 'Love'

Flash Fiction Thursday: Come On, Get Higher

Paris at night, Via French Kitchen in America.

So far so good on another weekly commitment- I bring you this week’s “Flash Fiction Thursday”.  All typed on my boyfriend’s computer while he is at work.  And he has this snazz-tastic illuminated keyboard.  Squee!


Come On, Get Higher

L’Hotel Promenade in Paris overlooked the most beautiful, bluest part of the Seine.  From her balcony, Adrienne could feel the north wind picking up her ebony curls, carrying with it the fresh smells of croissants and perfume.  Indeed, it was signature feel of Paris, and she had come here for the same reason that every other single woman in her twenties came to Paris:  for love.  Romance novels always made it seem so simple.  All a woman need do is slip on a pair of treacherous high heels and a form-fitting black dress, and a man in a tuxedo with a cigarette clutched between his fingers was supposed to sweep her away into the yellow lights of the city.

She tapped her glossy pink nails on the metal rail of the balcony and sighed irritably.  It wasn’t that easy.  Nothing in life was that easy.  She thought any reasonable girl would kill for a chance to spend her life “just sitting and looking pretty”.  It only happened to woman like Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly.  Princesses of the silver screen.  And what was she?  Adrienne was practically a doormouse compared to them. A wannabe fashion designer who hadn’t been able to make herself a name in New York.  So what? she thought to herself and took a gulp from her half-empty glass on chardonnay.  Paris was le centre de la mode.  If you wanted to be a fashion designer, you wanted to be in Paris, not the Big Apple.

Adrienne swung her body around, sloshing chardonnay on the wire balcony and it dripped to the sidewalk below.  Go to Paris, she had told herself, Be a model, fall in love, make a lot of money.  Then nobody will question the dip of your necklines or the length of you skirt.

She set the glass on a cluttered counter, covered in unopened bills.  Some belonged to her roommate, but most of them belong to her.  “Helene!” Adrienne shouted into the dimly lit living room, where she knew her roommate wasn’t.  “I’m going to go climb the Eiffel Tower and fall in love.”

When Helene didn’t respond (Of course, she is at work, Adrienne scolded herself), Adrienne sat stubbornly on the floor and pulled on her favourite pair of bright red Prada stilettos. She wobbled out the door, leaving her wallet, bills, and woes behind her.

Paris; le ville de l’amour….


Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.

My beautiful glass angel.

“So don’t misunderstand me / You put the light in my life / You put the sparks to the flame / I’ve got your heart in my sight.” ~ Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John.

When Bryan went to England, he brought back a dozen things for me.  I liked almost all of them, and I pretended to like the things I didn’t, but more than anything else, I fell in love with a little glass angel.  It’s not a very special angel.  It’s certainly the type of thing you could find at a Hallmark store here in the States.  I didn’t love it because it came from England, I loved it because it was beautiful in a way I fail to describe.

I have a lot of trinkets out and about my bedroom.  I have the conch shell Sean brought back from the Bahamas for me.  I have “Steve,” the nailpolish rock from Sammy, a hoard of Beth-Art, Disney snowglobes, a panda-shaped candy dish Heather made in pottery class.  Sometimes among all the knick-knacks I have, I lose one.  It’s still there, sitting on my shelf, but I kind of forget about it and time passes.

Today, I was on the phone with Bryan, sarcastically criticizing his ear off (I don’t yell on the phone.  I get slightly voluminous and incredibly sarcastic) and snooping around my room looking for something interesting for my photo of the day.  I found myself standing in a corner next to one of my smaller shelves and, in the dark, I snapped a picture of my glass angel.  My brain registered “oh, that’s kinda cool” and I took pictures of it until I got one I liked and proceeded to yell at my poor, unsuspecting, powerless boyfriend.

Now, after sitting here for a few hours (I am not exaggerating) and fighting with new WordPress themes (because I was having trouble differentiating between paragraphs on the MistyLook Theme, however lovely it was), I finally get to the point where I take the SD card out of my camera, look at the picture, and remember when I got that beautiful angel.  It was almost two years ago, but it seems like an eternity.  When I yell at him for being less than what I expect, or because he’s human, I forget how positively miserable I was when he was overseas and I didn’t have instant access to him.  All I think about is what I want, and that isn’t fair.  Of course, in the moment when I am enraged, what is reasonable, rational, and fair matter very little.  In fact, the only thing that matters is getting my own way.

Sometimes we all need to have little reminders of the things that mean the most.  Today, my glass angel told me that like myself, my boyfriend has a glass heart, and I need to be careful with it.  Some things just don’t go perfectly back together.


Heather and John at Hampton; July 8, 2007.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, you know that I’m still very young… please… take your time?  Up to this minute I misunderstood that I could get stuck for good.” ~ Matchmaker, from the musical Fiddler on the Roof.

I have match-made once in my life that I can think of.  They were two of my friends from different worlds, one massively depressed, and the other a bubbling ray of sunshine.  She liked to help people.  He needed help.  I didn’t expect Andy and Vilmary to become a couple, but they did.  She met him by reading over my shoulder as I cruised Facebook during a college English course.  It was a bad plan.  See, they were really happy for a while, but it was all about sex.  Sexuality.  Sexualism.  Any other word I can stick “sex” into.  I used to want to scream at her for having somewhat lewd conversations with him on the phone and via webcam at three-in-the-freaking-morning while I was trying to sleep.

They are the reason I am hesitant to match-make my friends again.  See, they were really happy and there was a heck of a lot of unresolved sexual tension between them for a while, but now, anything I hear about them is raging red hate.  I hear from her how much of a soulless, heartless pain-in-the-ass he is.  I hear from him what a dumb, manipulative bitch she is.  I never hear anything positive.  I feel like I’ve created this monstrous relationship of negative energy that seeps out of the black lagoon and wants to eat my soul.

Okay, yeah, it may not be all my fault.  I mean, if he cared about living past the age of twenty-five, it would be okay.  If she didn’t decide to mess with his head and piss him off for fun every now and again, it would be okay.  And of course, I’m not psychic, and I couldn’t anticipate these things happening, but nonetheless… I still feel responsible.  Without me, these people would never have met.  And then there wouldn’t be so much hate and angst in their lives.

I have this thing about angst.  I really don’t like it.  It makes me grumpy.  Probably explained why CAPSLOCK!Harry and I don’t get on so well.

Relationships are so hard to determine.  Unless I can very clearly see that this person is no good, I don’t have anything negative to say.  Like Heather and John.  They practices?  Not my thing.  I didn’t much enjoy hearing about all their sexual encounters, and I felt that for a sophomore and senior in high school, they had a heck of a lot of sketchy ones.  But who am I to judge?  I let it be.  At any rate, they were happy.  And Heather?  She doesn’t do happy easily.  So seeing her smile instead of angsty and depressed was a good thing.  I could never have predicted that the relationship would end around three years with massive amounts of  cheating and neglect going on.  Bad stuff.  Bad times.  Big mess.  And that wasn’t my fault.  So I know that relationships go awry even without my help.  But that doesn’t keep me from being hesitant.

See, I love Bryan.  Really, I do.  I mean it when I say “love”.  I know I’m going to be with him, we’ve already begun (half-jokingly) planning our wedding and I have names for the children which he likes.  For anyone who is interested, there will be three children, two girls and a boy because I totally have control over that.  Angela Piper, Tristan Dorian, and Sonora Essylte.  I’ve got that covered.  But seriously, my own relationship is always rocky.  Sometimes I want to punch Bryan in the face just to get him to leave me alone (he can’t bug me if he’s unconscious, ja?).  I love him, but at the same time, I freaking wish he’d leave me alone.  But I know he’s crazy about me, and in the end, three years going in, that’s enough to work through the little things.  I have that much faith in myself, and I have seen him work hard to do the same (though, granted, I’ve had more than one person tell me I should have dumped him a long time ago, for various different reasons).  Our relationship is a little unhealthy and a little dysfunctional, but we shouldn’t believe all that cockamaymee bull crap about happily ever after being perfect and Prince Charming on a silver steed.  My relationship is dysfunctional and unhealthy but it’s also healthy and wonderful and we make a really great team when it matters.  I made the choice to be in that relationship.

I just don’t feel right helping other people with their choices.  I feel pushy.  And responsible.

Relationships can be a nightmare.  Or they can be amazing.  It’s really up to us in the end:  are we going to be selfish and make it all about ourselves?  Or is it going to be for the greater good?


Health ReportHealth Report: I’ve eaten 1668 calories today and burned off 908.  That keeps me under my daily allotted – rock and roll!  I even included the ice cream sundae I haven’t eaten yet into that estimate, so I should be golden today.  Working copy center burns a lot of calories.  Making money and burning calories for the win!


Random SqueeRandom Squee: One of my improv students posted this amazing, rocking video from YouTube on his Facebook profile and it makes me giggle.  I’ve watched it twice.

“L” is For the Way You Look at Me.

A view out my windshield on Route Nine.

May 16, 2010; Chesterfield, NH: From my windshield, on Route Nine. Note to self? No more driving and taking pictures simultaneously.

“Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, / I’ve gotta love one man ’til I die, / can’t help lovin’ that man of mine.” ~ Lovin’ That Man of Mine from the musical Showboat.

Love is a word thrown around far too much in the world.  “O.  M.  G.  I totally love your shoes!”  or  says the middle school girl to her crush, “But I love you!”  We as a society seem to have forgotten the true meaning of love.  Like an appendix, the word is there, but it’s useless because it isn’t used in the way it was intended.

I am a guilty party.  When I say “I love you” to my friends, I feel like that is an adequate use of the word.  If I say it to them (and mean it) that means that I love them like siblings.  But when I say it to a significant other, it’s not adequate at all.  It feels ten or fifteen pieces short of a jigsaw puzzle.  So I’m not just talking a little inadequate.  I’m talking the whole ballgame.

When did the abuse of the word start?  I think I want to blame the poets.  It is a poet’s job to use the strongest words in his verse in order to invoke image and emotion into the heart and soul of the reader.  But like in any other part of writing, words and phrases can become cliches because they’re used so often.  And such is the case with the word “love”.  It was overused in work because people (like poets) wanted readers to feel the indescribable feeling that comes with being  in love.  I daresay the word was never adequate to encompass the physical and emotional reactions to love.  But when you read it, see it, use it too much, it begins to lose all meaning.  It is a casual word, instead of one filled with power.  And yet, people still use it in writing (especially poetry!) constantly.  Why?  There’s nothing to replace it.

I’m not trying to pick on poets and say they’re a bad bunch.  Really.  I have friends who are poets, and I write a poem myself every once in a blue moon.  But I feel like I speak the truth:  there’s nobody like a writer to ruin the value of a word, and poets in particular excel at ruining abstractions.  And you must keep in mind that when I say “poets” I am including lyricists.  After all, what is a song, when the music is taken away, but a poem?

Sixty years ago, “love” meant more.  I think it had to do with the moral standards of the time, as well as the fact that materialism was just beginning to take a foothold in America.  In the 1950s, corporate retail was just beginning.  There were more Mom-and-Pop-Shops, and as far as I can remember (which isn’t fair, since I was born in 1989, but humour me) there were no Wal-Marts.  In fact, most retail stores that we shop at today didn’t exist.  But I digress.  Nobody said “I love your new dishwasher.”  If you said “love” to someone, it was either to your family member, or, if you were really brave, your high school sweetheart.  When you hear people in old movies (Humphrey Boggart, Ava Gardner) say “I love you,” believe me, in the context of the movie, it wasn’t fleeting love.  It was the forever kind.  They were sure about it.  If Joe Schmo leaves Jane Doe in the middle of the movie, you can bet on two things:  1.) Neither of them hook up with anyone else (that sort of movie started in the eighties); and 2.) They’ll be back together by the end of the movie, unless one of them dies, and neither will die without managing to leave a message of undying love.

People used to say “I love you” when it was true, not when they thought it was (or should be) socially acceptable.  Divorce rates used to be lower, there were fewer abortions, and while I’m not saying everyone forever should abstain from sex until after marriage (because they’re no point in saying that, it would never happen) nobody did it to win a bet, or to get a high.  They did it for love.  If someone got pregnant, they got married.  Now, we don’t know what love is, so those things like sex, having children, getting married?  They’re all based on reason and social acceptance.

To quote Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, “Ain’t there anyone here for love?”

My answer?  There may be.  But really, how many people know what love is?  Beyond the cultural definition, beyond poetic verse.  Beyond childhood rhymes?  And, more importantly, how many people care?

I wish I could give answers, but I know that I can’t.  I hate leaving things open-ended, but these are the only facts I have.  I can’t reach into someone’s mind or soul to find deeper meaning and understanding within it.  I can only hope that there are a significant amount of people out there who, like me, would like to stop singing of love and throwing the word around like a Frisbee and returning to a moral state where love is true and people know how to handle the word properly.  Fewer broken hearts, broken homes.

Maybe the human race has just become so cold-blooded that most people not only don’t know how to love, but don’t want to?  That would be a sad day indeed.

Relationship Rant, Part II

I recently posted a piece written by a friend of mine a few years ago regarding the male approach to a relationship.  Lately, I have been watching an… interaction, for the want of a better word, between a couple acquaintances of mine, and I feel the need to address the other side of a relationship, the gender that Shane didn’t cover:  the all elusive female, and their personal relations to the male.

First of all, I would like to state that these things are my opinions and observations.  Someone else’s view may be entirely different than mine.  Everyone is an individual and this is not an all-seeing guide to the universe.


The gender roles are changing and more and more, girls are asking guys out, instead of the all-traditional, sit-around-and-hope-he-gets-a-clue method.  This is a terrifying new world for us women, it’s certainly empowering (no more of that “get in the kitchen and make me a sammich, woman!” bull).  But like it or not, we still don’t understand.  Or, at least, we don’t understand them nearly as well as we like to think we do.  And we’re content to be coy and tease.  Girls, believe it or not… that breaks hearts.  A little bit of advice to my gender.

  1. Be honest with him.  If you can’t tell him the truth, you shouldn’t be dating him.  And yes, that includes telling him that he’s not your type (cliched, don’t use that).  Don’t ever, ever tell a guy that you want to go out with him sometimes when you don’t.  Rejection is preferable to tease and rejection.  After all, how would you feel if you found out someone agreed to date you because they either felt bad for you or were too nice to say no?  …  Feel that self-esteem slipping yet?
  2. Don’t cheat.  Really.  Just because you think he may have done it first doesn’t give you the right to do it too.  Be the big person, dump his ass, and get on with your life.
  3. Don’t go after someone else’s boyfriend.  Ever.  Don’t even think about it.  Really, nobody likes the Devil in a Red Dress.  The DinRD (Devil in a Red Dress) gets a reputation, and most girlfriends will dump their boyfriend if they see someone associating with her too often.  Don’t be that housewrecker.  Keep your dignity and morality.  Why?  Two reasons.  One, he’s not the last man on earth, for Christ’s sake, you’ll find someone else.  Two?  If you really cared about him and could see he was happy as he was, then you wouldn’t be trying to destroy his happiness for a selfish pursuit.
  4. Flirting on purpose with other people in front of your significant other?  Not cool.  Invoking jealousy is always a bad idea.  May also lead you do fall into the DiaRD reputation.
  5. No means no.  This applies to rejections and break-ups.  I don’t care whose idea it was.  If he says “I’m just not that into you” chances are he’s not going to change his mind any time soon and you hanging like a lemur on his arm is going to drive him away, instead of pulling him forward.  If you were in a relationship and broke it off, that’s it.  You’re done, finished, got it?  You had your chance for snuggling and kisses and back massages.  You told him he “wasn’t your type”.  If you can’t take his vices, you don’t get the benefits either.  Failure to adhere to this rule leads to the position of becoming a DiaRD.
  6. For the love of God, stop complaining about being fat.  Every single girl (myself included) needs to work on this one.  Honey, let me tell you something.  If he thinks you’re fat, he’ll tell you.  If he breaks up with you because you’re fat, he’s not worth your time.  If you are fat and he doesn’t say anything about it, he likes fat women, embrace it.  If he says you’re not fat, he means it.  If he compliments how good you look and you say you’re fat, you’ll never get a compliment again.  So.  For goodness sake.  If you think you’re fat, get off the computer, run a couple miles, and stop complaining to him about it.
  7. Men are not all masochistic beasts.  If all the ones you’ve ever met are, that’s rather unfortunate for you.  However, most the ones I know are teddy bears, and they have hearts and souls, too (the men, not teddy bears) and they feel just as deeply as you do.  Walking all over them, cheating on them, and doing other emotionally destructive things actually do hurt them.
  8. People say chivalry is dead.  It’s not.  It’s gone underground.  If he likes to open the door for you, let him do it every once and a while.  He’s not opening the door because he thinks you’re incapable of doing it yourself.  He’s doing it because he respects you and he’s humbling himself to you in that way.  It’s a compliment.  Take it
  9. Show him that you trust him.  And no.  I’m not talking about sex or anything like that.  I mean don’t be afraid to tell him secrets (or the truth!  See #1) and don’t be afraid to let him hang out with other people when you’re not around, especially (gasp!) other girls.  How would you like it if he cut you off from all your male friends?  It’s not fair.
  10. Know what you’re getting into .  Don’t just hook up without doing your research.  Randomly meet this guy on vacation and decide to hook up with him even though you can’t pronounce his last name?  Probably not a good idea.  Long distance relationships will take more effort than close distance.  Some people need more love and attention than others.  Some people will need space.  Know the type of person you’re going to be getting into a relationship with before you do it.  It will save broken hearts.

Those are ten suggestions and observations.  I know there are more.  Feel free to comment and add your own two-cents!

Carpe Diem

Sam playing pool in my basement, April 30, 2010.

“Open the gates and seize the day.  Don’t be afraid and don’t delay.” ~ David Moscow in Newsies.

Yesterday was quite a day.  I spent a little time with a friend at the end of a long, tiring, sun burnt day (and was glad I did) and so made up this poster about her current state of mind- things that she was going to do to make herself happy, things that are really bothering her, things that annoy her, lyrics that describe her feelings; things like that.  The one that really caught my eye was “things I’ve lied about recently”.  See, she and I have a lot of things in common.  One of those things is that we’re really good (and compulsive) liars.  Lately, I’ve been trying not to lie.  My lies (as of late) have been lies of omission.  Things that I feel like I should tell someone, but don’t, or can’t (for some reason; usually because I’m afraid to).  I mean, just plain-up not-telling-the-truth is a lie, right?

So, after she went back inside her house, I took a deep breath, and went and found Bryan.  Bryan and I have been working really hard to improve our relationship and find ourselves in it again.  No.  Scratch that.  Bryan’s been working really hard.  I’ve been sitting and waiting.  He hasn’t asked a lot of me, but the least I could do is be honest with him.  And I haven’t been.  So I met him at the college and we walked around downtown.  From Keene State to Cheshire Homes to the Colony Mill back to Subway and the Central Square.  It was peaceful, the temperature was just right, and I was honest with him.  As honest as I could be.  I mean… it’s really hard to explain to your boyfriend of three years that not only do you bond better with people of the opposite gender (he knew that already) but you often develop crushes on them and become overprotective of them.  That you step outside your relationship and assess what a relationship would be like with them.  Goodness knows I’ve done it so many times since I’ve been dating Bryan.  With Isaac.  With Ian.  With David (although, to my credit, David initiated that train of thought, and it lingered in my brain for a while).  With Sean.  Sean has been the worst.  David could have been the worst, but he was in a relationship with I knew him.  He’s getting married to that same woman now, next summer.  I’m really happy for him.  But it’s been different with Sean lately.

I told Bryan this.  Since I told Bryan this, it doesn’t seem weird saying it anymore.  Sean is a really nice guy.  He’s got a great sense of humor, a million stories, and he definitely has one thing that Bryan hasn’t:  empathy.  But on the other hand, I still see that he likes to drink (a lot) and he has a huge circle of friends (I’m not a social person.  Me + computer = love), he’s an athlete (never much cared for the whole sweaty body-builder whatevs thing).  I don’t find him physically attractive (I also don’t find him physically unattractive.  In his case, it’s the hair.  His hair is really thin, not luscious.  Hair is a big thing for me).  But yet, whenever I’ve been with him lately, I feel uplifted, even if only in the smallest way.  And whenever I mention my relationship to Bryan with him, I feel like I come back to “why am I with him anyway?” and we find a whole new list of incompatibilities.  It’s interesting, to say the least.  I don’t know.  Maybe I’m just looking for them.

But you know what?  I told Bryan all that.  Every word.  And he didn’t get mad, he didn’t get jealous, he didn’t get upset.  He just walked beside me and trusted me in a way that he never has before.  That meant a lot to me, so very much, and I felt like this huge burden had been lifted.  Now Bryan knows, I feel silly about it all.  Bryan never said a word against me.  He didn’t cling.  He openly admitted that things like that… they’ve happened to him in the past too.  And like me, there was nothing concrete, there was nothing better in the potentiality of a relationship with the others.  And there’s no promise of a relationship at any rate, if things had been broken off.  It felt so good, having him confide that in me.  I feel, this morning, so much better (sans sun burn and impending final exam).

I think, through Sean and Sammy’s guidance (Sammy is totally my pep talk girl.  She tells me straight up when I’m being stupid, and I love it) and Bryan and I learning to trust each other again… I’m going to be okay.  I’m still terrified about my future (so close and daunting) and I’m still a little indifferent about the world at times (honestly think it might be springtime + stress, though.  I really, really hate springtime).  But today is Thursday.  It’s not a special day, but it’s a new day.  And I’m going to step up and be a big person, and well… carpe diem.  I’m going to seize the day.


Weather ReportWeather Report: It’s cool and raining again.  My sun-burnt shoulders are relieved.  Going to need to dig out a coat, though.  Maybe I’ll find my school id in one of the pockets.



Health ReportHealth Report: My stomach is growling.  My diet yesterday was terrible, and I’m still regretting it.  When I got home from work I had a whole can of tomato soup mixed with water, basil, cayenne, and mozzarella cheese.  Plus five slices of white bread smothered with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.  Pretty bad, right?  But that wasn’t the worst of it.  I later had a small serving of Spanish rice with mozzarella cheese.  Then a whole pint of Ben and Jerry’s Extreme Chocolate Brownie ice cream. … … And then (wait for it) a flat bread wrap from Subway with teriyaki chicken, Monterrey Jack cheese, some onions and a small amount of sweet onions sauce.  So yeah.  I feel fat.  Over the last two days, I have spent between six and eight hours walking, but I’m pretty sure that won’t cover the Ben and Jerry’s….


Words Worth Getting AtWords Worth Getting At: I wrote a Flash Fic yesterday, but then the internet went down, so I posted it this morning.  The words were crap yesterday.  And I was watching NCIS simultaneously, so it’s definitely not my best work.  You can kind of see where NCIS inspired it, though.  It’s Inspection Day.  …  I’ve also been working on a “book of cheat sheets,” I’m calling it.  Mini-character sketches with the most basic of information.  Got Daniel, Harley, and Riley done so far.  I may do some more soon-ish.  I want to get bits and pieces of the world in there too, if I can.  Just a quick reference guide that’s a little lighter and more mobile than the binder I’ve got my 20-page character sketches shoved into now.


Social LifeSocial Life: I think I’ve been pretty busy this week!  Sean on Tuesday, then both Sammy and Bryan yesterday (w00t for spontaneous hang out time!) and then I’m getting up crazy early tomorrow to meet Bryan for breakfast, because we want to go the the Swanzey Diner, because they’re yummy.  I’ve already got my heart set on stuffed french toast!


Schoolhouse RockSchoolhouse Rock: I have my last final today.  Almost officially done with my junior year of college.  Holy Number 2 Pencils, Batman… that’s kinda terrifying.

All the Little Things….

Heather and Ashley fighting over the pinata at Caitlyn's Sweet 16.

“What I needed most was to love and to be loved, eager to be caught. Happily I wrapped those painful bonds around me; and sure enough, I would be lashed with the red-hot pokers of jealousy, by suspicions and fear, by burst of anger and quarrels.” ~ Saint Augustine.

Sean’s back and I couldn’t be happier.  Lets see if I stay happy.  Right now, I am.  And he remembered to get me my shell, which also makes me happy, and its going to go on a shelf with Steve (the stingray-rock) and Steve’s friend (the heart-shape rock)

I’m a sucker for tidbits and gidgets.  They’re no fun if you buy them for yourself, but when other people see you and say “HEY!  I was at the dollar store and I saw this terribly ugly thing and it reminded me of you because of this conversation we had once about this thing and that and then we ended up talking about owls and isn’t this the ugliest owl you’ve ever seen?  It’s for you!” … that?  That’s awesome.  And even if it’s the ugliest thing in the world, I will find a home for it.

DISCLAIMER:  don’t get me a lot of random little things, because I’m running out of space!  But they’ll still make me happy.  But only because it shows that you were thinking of me.  See, that’s the thing.  It may be the ugliest owl in the world, but you wanted to make me happy with it, because it made you think of me and made you happy, and we share happiness, and it’s fun.

There’s a lot of happy going around today.  I kinda hope it hangs around.  Dunno if it will, but I’d like it if it did.

See, the only reason I can think of why it wouldn’t hang around is because of tonight.  Bryan and I have a date tonight.  Generally, this means one thing:  we sit in his bedroom and talk about the relationship.  I want to say it’s an improvement, but it’s not.  See, before what would happen is we would either watch a movie (bad for relationship; good for my own sanity), snuggle (way to catch up on sleep!), or he’d sit at his computer and I’d find something do to.  I know, I know, terrible dates.  Bryan and I both kinda-sorta romantic, and we’re both terrible hosts.  We do better in neutral places.  Like restaurants.  We did great in Marg’s Wednesday night.  But we full out started screaming at each other before work yesterday.  As soon as the doors opened, we behaved.  I’m a big enough person that I try not to let my personal life ever get in the way of work, and Bryan’s getting better at it.  Still.  We’re unstable.  He feels like he’s the only one doing any work in the relationship.

Lemme tell you about yesterday morning’s fight.  The issue was this:  I was going to hang out with Sammy for a few hours after work, and Bryan was upset because he feels like I keep pushing him aside.  This comment frustrated me tremendously because I spent almost all my free time with him last week.  And I spent three hours with Sammy last night.  He followed up with; “you only seem to spend time with me when you have to, not when you want to, and you’re willing to make time for other people, not for me.”  The only way I can answer that is:  I feel like I have to spend time with him, or I get scolded for not spending time with him, so the time I spend with  him feels like work.  And I don’t enjoy it.  If he’d just stop demanding all my time, I’d start spending time when I want to, not when he wants me to, and it will be better.  As for the make time for other people- geez, that’s not too hard, since I spend a couple hours with one other person than him maybe once every other week?  Easy to plan around.  And Bryan?  He doesn’t plan ahead.  His thing is:  I’m free, I’m going to hang out with you now.  It’s easy for me to make time for other people because it’s planned usually a couple days in advance.  That was I can work around losing that time.

I’ve tried to tell him these things, but he just doesn’t seem to understand them.  We’re such different people.  He needs very different things than me.  I agree that more quality time will reduce his feeling of needing more time period, but it’s not going to be quality time if I’m informed we’re spending time together instead of being allowed an opinion in it.  I can’t be honest with him when I need my own space, or when I have a lot of work to do, because he takes it personally.  It’s a very frustrating situation.  And I can’t tell if he doesn’t believe me, or doesn’t care, or just plain doesn’t realise how much work he is to me, and that I do try to be good, but this is such a bad match.  People don’t usually see it on the outside, but it’s true.  We do little but fight when other people aren’t around.

I have no choice but to work it out and live with it all.  I dunno.  I’m just unhappy about that.  I’m trying, I really am, but I feel like he tries a little, then stops trying because it’s too hard, or he decides it not fair than I can get what I want and he can’t get everything he wants.  I dunno.  Wish I did.  I’m so frustrated with it.  He’s more than happy to give me material things, and like I said earlier, that’s nice.  But the thought behind them is more important.  And I’d rather have him take a little less, give a little more, that I would like to see Come Fly Away.  Don’t get me wrong- I’m crazy excited, but there are some things in life that are more important.

And I’m still convinced I’m going to get shanked in New York.

Well.  We’ll see how tonight goes.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself for the next three hours.  I finished all the work I needed to already this morning.  Ah, sweet boredom, how I appreciate your presence.


something to think about

"You know, I don't know if you'll understand this or not, but sometimes, even when I'm feeling very low, I'll see some little thing that will somehow renew my faith. Something like that leaf, for instance - clinging to its tree despite wind and storm. You know, that makes me think that courage and tenacity are about the greatest values a man can have. Suddenly my old confidence is back and I know things aren't half as bad as I make them out to be. Suddenly I know that with the strength of his convictions a man can move mountains, and I can proceed with full confidence in the basic goodness of my fellow man. I know that now. I know it." ~ End of Act I in the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

competing for the house cup

Like what you read? Click here to get the latest posts sent straight to your email!

Join 6 other followers