What I was going to write got interrupted by my inability to find a word. If you know what word I'm looking for, e-mail me.
FieryGwenivere: I need help finding a word
FieryGwenivere: someone was talking about how america is uncultured, and she said- "and the simpsons does not count as culture". I'm writing the sentence "In the defense of the simpsons as a _______ aspect of culture, I have found this site that lists many quotes as well as explaining their historical references and subtle political implications..."
Kris: Integral? Vital?
FieryGwenivere: no, I want something that means "worthy of merit" or something like that
Kris: Vagina?
FieryGwenivere: Goddamn it.
Anyways, I wa s writing this to show you the site, because it rocks. Go, learn.
On with it.
Thursday, August 15, 2002
In the past, I've written odes of my great, important romantic relationships at their end, to memoralize them forever as well as to work through any feelings I have of regret or self-doubt...sadness, really. I generally do it before I go to sleep that night, because, generally, I can't sleep otherwise.
Last night, after Jeff went home, having kissed me for the last time, I didn't. I, instead, took a tylenol PM, assured myself I did the right thing and thought of probably something else, maybe nothing at all, until unconsciousness shut the eyes of the dead night for me.
There's a lot to say about Jeff and I in the past. I used to think about how they should make a movie of us- something I muse about with many friends, but from the screwy, comedic way we met, into the jokes of us becoming friends, the passion of when we fell in love and finally the tear-filled good-bye last night on my porch, I think he and I lend itself to a story that should be told the best. Because it's important- when you think of the stereotypical movie, people meet, fall in love, overcome their obsticles, and stay in love for the rest of their lives...or for the rest of the movie. And we all love to hear about that- true love. But true love only happens once in a lifetime, and there's a type of love that happens before hand, maybe over and over again. And it's just as important. And it's just as wonderful. And it's a story that nobody's telling.
It's the story of two people who meet in the middle of their lives, when they both have a long way to go before any sort of conclusion can be made, and they grow together, and they unload a lot of baggage with each other, and they complement each other incredibly through their support and their mutual appreciation, and above all, their love. So they make the choice to commit to each other, and they continue being good together, throughout their trials and tribulations. But they haven't learned everything there is to learn in life yet- about love, about how to make things work forever. They haven't quite got the pattern down. So they work to improve themselves, for themselves, for each other, and they go along way....but they can't go the whole way. And after a while, it becomes clear that there's something else to learn- how to let go. And they have to walk away from each other, still loving each other, still wanting to be perfect and finished, but knowing that perfection is an illusion, and the finish is a long way off.
And they embrace, on a porch maybe, in the middle of the night maybe, and they cry a lot. And they do not want to let go, feel that they can not.
I've always had trouble in life realizing what I need to do, I always thought that was the hardest part. Last night, the follow-through sort of made all the rest seem like a child's game.
I needed to get out of my relationship with Jeff for one simple reason- I love him. I can't lose him entirely. And I could feel my control letting go of me, and I know myself, and I know my past, and I HATE IT so much...but I know who I am. And I didn't want to do the horrible things to him that I'd done before. He's too good to feel the way I've made other people feel, and I'm too good to feel that guilt again.
I'm always going to love him. I just have to learn to do it in a different way.
On with it.
Last night, after Jeff went home, having kissed me for the last time, I didn't. I, instead, took a tylenol PM, assured myself I did the right thing and thought of probably something else, maybe nothing at all, until unconsciousness shut the eyes of the dead night for me.
There's a lot to say about Jeff and I in the past. I used to think about how they should make a movie of us- something I muse about with many friends, but from the screwy, comedic way we met, into the jokes of us becoming friends, the passion of when we fell in love and finally the tear-filled good-bye last night on my porch, I think he and I lend itself to a story that should be told the best. Because it's important- when you think of the stereotypical movie, people meet, fall in love, overcome their obsticles, and stay in love for the rest of their lives...or for the rest of the movie. And we all love to hear about that- true love. But true love only happens once in a lifetime, and there's a type of love that happens before hand, maybe over and over again. And it's just as important. And it's just as wonderful. And it's a story that nobody's telling.
It's the story of two people who meet in the middle of their lives, when they both have a long way to go before any sort of conclusion can be made, and they grow together, and they unload a lot of baggage with each other, and they complement each other incredibly through their support and their mutual appreciation, and above all, their love. So they make the choice to commit to each other, and they continue being good together, throughout their trials and tribulations. But they haven't learned everything there is to learn in life yet- about love, about how to make things work forever. They haven't quite got the pattern down. So they work to improve themselves, for themselves, for each other, and they go along way....but they can't go the whole way. And after a while, it becomes clear that there's something else to learn- how to let go. And they have to walk away from each other, still loving each other, still wanting to be perfect and finished, but knowing that perfection is an illusion, and the finish is a long way off.
And they embrace, on a porch maybe, in the middle of the night maybe, and they cry a lot. And they do not want to let go, feel that they can not.
I've always had trouble in life realizing what I need to do, I always thought that was the hardest part. Last night, the follow-through sort of made all the rest seem like a child's game.
I needed to get out of my relationship with Jeff for one simple reason- I love him. I can't lose him entirely. And I could feel my control letting go of me, and I know myself, and I know my past, and I HATE IT so much...but I know who I am. And I didn't want to do the horrible things to him that I'd done before. He's too good to feel the way I've made other people feel, and I'm too good to feel that guilt again.
I'm always going to love him. I just have to learn to do it in a different way.
On with it.
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
It's been an emotional day.
I called two people that I haven't in a long time. One of which was Chad.
I called Chad from a cell phone in the field across from Emily's house. That's about as far as I could make it before collapsing in tears from the first call I made- to someone I shouldn't have called- from the payphone at Kitty Korner.
I'd been outside- in a post bike-riding state of exhaustion- waiting for Zack to perhaps walk by on the chance he had to work tonight, and listening to Tabitha's Secret and thinking about an e-mail I received tonight with only one word of text- wenesday. And then when I had my fill of thinking that, I began thinking of the same thing I always think, about the only person I think about every single day of my life, and in the emotional state I was in, I made the bad choice to get up and walk to kitty korner at 8:45 and to dial that number and wait for him to pick up the phone, and I asked for him, and it was him, and I just told him I was sorry for calling but....but can't you please forgive me?
And he hung up.
And I wandered back to my field and sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, and thought I'd call Ben. I never remember Ben's number though. Chad's comes naturally to me. When his dad answered, even his voice was somewhat soothing, but Chad's when he picked up had the cathardic affect it always does, and I started to cry to him...crying like I had before, when I was standing next to him in the kitchen, begging not to let this intense fucking love I had for him be reduced to some damn one-night stand, cause, damn, did I love him, and how fucking much I wanted the chance to try, to try and not make the same mistakes I had. I wanted a chance to make it all work out, and I didn't get it, but that would have been okay- then he moved on and I fucking died.
But I lived. And he and I promised that we wouldn't let our friendship get screwed. But we did. And so tonight's the first time I've heard his voice since moxie days, I think, except maybe once when I called him to get Ben's number- because I can never remember Ben's number, Chad's comes naturally to me. And I was on the phone with him and I just cried and said all the things that I wish I could tell another person- how fucking much I love you, how fucking much I think about you, how horrible it is that you won't even take it into consideration, you bastard, I love you! You fucking bastard- and I told him all that. And he told me the truth: that if there's a way for me to forget him, I should. And he plowed through my bullshit of "but I can't, I can't", except I'm not ever sure that it's bullshit, not with him, not with the way he does this to me. And eventually we got to talk about other things, and he changed my state of mind and lifted me up- slightly, maybe, because how happy can I be on the phone with him, soaking in the knowledge of the fact that he can always make me happy- and I was distracted- and waiting for Zack to come by, because Zack is really what saved me and my fucking ego from Chad, from Kara, but when we got off the phone, god, did I want to tell him that I loved him. Because I do. And whether or not it could ever be the same, I wonder if he still loves me. Just a friend, or not even.
He told me, when he had to go, that I could always come to him, and he did it in that voice that makes me love him the way I do, because damn I do, and that made me smile and that made me hurt, but everything hurts.
Zack never walked by, so I came home and got online and waited for him, and wrote bad poetry meant for the guy who hung up on me- how dare you just hang up on me- in my away message, except that it wasn't bad poetry at all. I only tend to say it was to make up for the fact that it might have been...anyway, Zach's here now, so I guess life must go on...with it.
I called two people that I haven't in a long time. One of which was Chad.
I called Chad from a cell phone in the field across from Emily's house. That's about as far as I could make it before collapsing in tears from the first call I made- to someone I shouldn't have called- from the payphone at Kitty Korner.
I'd been outside- in a post bike-riding state of exhaustion- waiting for Zack to perhaps walk by on the chance he had to work tonight, and listening to Tabitha's Secret and thinking about an e-mail I received tonight with only one word of text- wenesday. And then when I had my fill of thinking that, I began thinking of the same thing I always think, about the only person I think about every single day of my life, and in the emotional state I was in, I made the bad choice to get up and walk to kitty korner at 8:45 and to dial that number and wait for him to pick up the phone, and I asked for him, and it was him, and I just told him I was sorry for calling but....but can't you please forgive me?
And he hung up.
And I wandered back to my field and sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, and thought I'd call Ben. I never remember Ben's number though. Chad's comes naturally to me. When his dad answered, even his voice was somewhat soothing, but Chad's when he picked up had the cathardic affect it always does, and I started to cry to him...crying like I had before, when I was standing next to him in the kitchen, begging not to let this intense fucking love I had for him be reduced to some damn one-night stand, cause, damn, did I love him, and how fucking much I wanted the chance to try, to try and not make the same mistakes I had. I wanted a chance to make it all work out, and I didn't get it, but that would have been okay- then he moved on and I fucking died.
But I lived. And he and I promised that we wouldn't let our friendship get screwed. But we did. And so tonight's the first time I've heard his voice since moxie days, I think, except maybe once when I called him to get Ben's number- because I can never remember Ben's number, Chad's comes naturally to me. And I was on the phone with him and I just cried and said all the things that I wish I could tell another person- how fucking much I love you, how fucking much I think about you, how horrible it is that you won't even take it into consideration, you bastard, I love you! You fucking bastard- and I told him all that. And he told me the truth: that if there's a way for me to forget him, I should. And he plowed through my bullshit of "but I can't, I can't", except I'm not ever sure that it's bullshit, not with him, not with the way he does this to me. And eventually we got to talk about other things, and he changed my state of mind and lifted me up- slightly, maybe, because how happy can I be on the phone with him, soaking in the knowledge of the fact that he can always make me happy- and I was distracted- and waiting for Zack to come by, because Zack is really what saved me and my fucking ego from Chad, from Kara, but when we got off the phone, god, did I want to tell him that I loved him. Because I do. And whether or not it could ever be the same, I wonder if he still loves me. Just a friend, or not even.
He told me, when he had to go, that I could always come to him, and he did it in that voice that makes me love him the way I do, because damn I do, and that made me smile and that made me hurt, but everything hurts.
Zack never walked by, so I came home and got online and waited for him, and wrote bad poetry meant for the guy who hung up on me- how dare you just hang up on me- in my away message, except that it wasn't bad poetry at all. I only tend to say it was to make up for the fact that it might have been...anyway, Zach's here now, so I guess life must go on...with it.
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