The Adventures of Mr. Nice, Silliness, and The Never Ending Battle

I promised someone I would write them a blog. Then I realized when someone requests creativity, my insides revolt against reason and refuse to produce anything worthwhile. Well, they do that anyways, it is just more agonizing when I know someone is waiting for some genius I don't posess.

The long and short of it is this: I want to write for you, but I have a hard time preparing for it. But I will write to you for as long as you would read it.

October fourth is coming. Just in case you were wondering. Have you marked it on your calendars? Good. Now would you like to know why this date is important? The Ex was (finally) served with the summons. October fourth marks the sixtieth day since his service. Which means he needs to have filed an answer with the courts by then. Do you think he will? From all that I have told you about him, do you believe that he will respect the deadlines for the US Judicial system?

You are a fool. Of course, he will not file an answer, or an extension. He probably hasn't even looked at the papers yet.

Would you like to know what that means? I shall tell you, in my most legal voice.

It means I will get my divorce by default and be ready to move on with my life.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Oh, silly me, how embarrassing...

The Boy has a fantastic new job, in case I forgot to tell you. It pays a billion dollars a year and it is the catalyst for our homesteading dreams. We have found a house, but I am hesitant to write about it, mostly out of superstition. I will tell you it is a five bedroom, two bathroom dream with a wrap around porch and more than a third of an acre. Go on, be jealous. We have amazing plans to change some of it into a lounge area and to have you all over for tea. I thought you would be excited.

When everything is finalized with the house, everything will fall in line with the divorce and then who knows what life will hold for me... What could be more exciting after everything I have waited for comes true?

We shall see. Well, you shall see and I shall write.

And then there was me.

A little taste of what I really think, in no order of consequence or necessity.

I think people without respect for the feelings of others should be given a new papercut everyday and have lemon juice poured in them.

I think I will be very content in our new house, whichever that maybe.

I know I love The Boy. Very much. I know that he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He makes the sunshine fall on my face evryday, he wakes me up to life and lulls me to sleep at night. He kisses me and my heart leaps to greet his. He pats my head gently while I let my dreams run forth out of my mouth to fall all around him.

I think I will always want to rush life and not regret it until the very end.

I know I can be... difficult. I have tendencies to manipulate, smirk, hold prejudices, and, above all, try way too hard. I also know that I can obsess about the oddest things.

I have noticed that I have a hard time letting go. Not out of a need to control other people, but out of a need to control my environment, a need to be comfortable in my own place and time.

I think we have two options: self-destruction or self- propultion. Sometimes one action can have both effects.

I think Waking Life is representative of how many people live their lives. I also think the statement: "Yeah, you should totally, like, wake up, you know. If you can. Just like shout 'wake up' at yourself and yeah... definatly before you can't wake up anymore," holds extreme and essential truths we often times overlook.

I think I was born for school.

I think I will end it here and go live some life, while I still can.

What!?

Getting divorced can actually be bad for your mental health?

A stream on AOL news feed today posted an article about that very subject.

REALLY?

Yes, really.

And an anvil falling on your head still can kill you, Trix are still for kids, and Donnie Darko is still freaky as hell.

I have been wondering since the beginning of the end why this all has to be so hard. Why getting divorced has to be sooooo much more expensive than getting married. Why it has to hurt so much more, take so much longer, cause such a stir.

It's because we're supposed to be smarter than this.

We are supposed to take our time and think things through and not get wrapped up in people who are not wrapped up in us.

And I will.

Next Time.

But first, you must finish on chapter before beginning another, I suppose.

But I always did like to read ahead....

Love, life, and the pursuit of The White Picket Fence.

The Boy and I have been imaginary house hunting.

We have been looking at houses in the 212## in the pursuit of the perfect pad. And we have become increasingly discouraged.

Oh the houses we've seen are very nice. We have made it a point to scout out places with three to five bedrooms, .20 of an acre or more, 1.5-2.5 bathrooms and all other good things. We have found a ton of houses that are in a reasonable price range and that offer both the freedom of stable home with the need for renovation and with it, personalization.

What, then, could be the problem? The hitch? We have no money. Irony or ironies, It is a buyers market and we aren't buyers. We aren't even in the same market. We are outside, looking in, thinking, "My what lovely peaches you have there."

It is difficult to think that we could, if we were making what we will be in 1-2 years buy any one of the houses we have looked at and start painting the walls and hanging the pictures immediately. But we can't. Because we're not making money. We are waiting to make money.


Boo, Economy. You tricky little scamp you.

There is no "Up” in appreciation, Women, and other fallacies.

As the date draws near, I am more and more tense. I am overwhelmed by a sense that when all is said and done, life will be so perfect, so felicitous that the proverbs about being too good to be true will all manifest themselves in the worst possible way.

"When you're divorced,will that be the end of it?"

Oh Boy, one can only hope. But I have such horrible nightmares based on real live threats,accusations and insanities that I met with during my brief marriage to Beelzebub himself that I just do not know.

What if he does something crazy? I won't give you any ideas, just in case, but just think- what if?

In other troubling thoughts, I feel so grievous that I could not accomplish one of the only good things that could have possibly come out of my marriage. I didn't save anyone. I didn't convince anyone of their worth. I didn't show anyone how much more they could have out of life.

Watching people get beat daily by discouraging words from an uneducated, unfeeling dictator is hard. Walking away from that situation without having done the least bit of good is even more difficult.

I know that we can't expect everything to work out the way we want, that God works in mysterious ways, and that people chose their own destinies, etc.

But I still feel helpless.

I still feel like there was something I could have done, some encouragement I could have given, some protection I could have offered.

I know I should have called the police a dozen times or more. I know I should have pled with more than one person to free themselves of that wretched place. I know I should have been less tolerant of the dark and more shining myself.

All I can do now is live with the same of deserting the only shred of good that could have come out of my poor decisions. All I can do now is allow God to rebuild my life in a manner pleasing to Him and pray to be rid of the terrible memories- of the late nights, of the drug abuse, of the tyranny, of the dread.

And the rain, and the beating of feet upon the ground, and a finish line.

She looks behind her with tired eyes and marks the distance with a sharp mind.

Two year, too long, too weak to remember.

Dear Super Footwear Girl, when will you rest and send up a surrendering flag?

But she won't and she can't and she will finish this to the last. You just wait and see. All you former loves, you high school flames, and flimsy kisses, and evening romps, and missing matrimonies- you watch and wait for a glorious final show.

The countdown comes closer to a crescendo.
The Girl sheds the last few tears and beads of sweat to shake you off.

Tomorrow I fill out papers, I get information, I get my final push.
Ninety days hence, Lord willing, this is all over.

And then what shall be your next finish line to race to, little one?

Perchance, a beautiful baptism of love.

In my mind, I hold a string of blessed beads. I am the holder. He is The Boy.
I nurse dreams of sweet peace, with you, My Brown Eyed King.

Finis, absolutmente

Racing Homeward

Benny had to reason with herself.

Where should these thunderclouds come from?

Her tears fell for what seemed like the hundredth analogy of her life and she was sick with the poetry- sick of the words that were designed to cover up our truth. The truth of sadness. The truth that feeling is only what we make it because of our heart, our minds. Why wouldn't her heart die? Why couldn't Benny just be another faceless ape in a jungle of innocence and ignorance?

She should be- she could be- she would be.

Benny, like she had in so many more touching scenes before this one, which, in truth, only lasted five minutes and twenty- three seconds in a lifetime measured in years, folded her handkerchief one last time.

"The more we love, the more we hurt"

The words stung her acutely. It was a heavy truth.

Goodbye, sweet, young, Benny. Goodbye to the Benny who thought she had felt every pain the world had to offer her.

Hello to a new Benny. A sad Benny. A Benny who has failed her most dreaded test without the chance at another.

Goodbye, Ed. You have taken with you the last of what was a fleeting youth, at any rate.

I almost forgot already....

but here is my one, lone, shining moment of intellect for the day:

Please turn your headlights on while driving in the rain. Unless of course you would prefer to die in a fiery crash.

Now that that is over I can give you a short list, like I always do when I am too busy for you.

• I love The Boy. We are making plans and holding hands and kissing lips and... taking tips?
• Soon, two years will have flown by. And You will be just a flutter of a memory in a waking nightmare
• I know, I owe you Mr. Nice. Hold onto your breeches. That is, if you wear any.
  
  

A Weak Attempt

I will attempt to write something- anything- everyday here for the next thirty days. Mark my words: I will fail, but success is not the goal.

Thoughts are the goal. Free flowwing, warm, glowing thoughts. An inventory of never ending thoughts being marked with simple symbols meant to represent everyhting we are.

We shall see. To begin, anyhow, these are the short words i have for you with one thought:

All light is true and all clarity is as yet unblemished.

Few Words, Many Loves.

A list. Because I can.

Things I love, in no particular and non-comprehensive.

Google.
Sunny, hot days full of nothing but sleep and tanning.
The ocean.
Day dreaming.
The Boy.

His charms
His arms
His voice
His masculine desire to protect me
His quietness
His playfulness
Blushing.
New school supplies.
Literature in general.
Hand sanitizer.
Cafe Mochas.
Sleep.
Endless Summers.
Very hot, very long, very bubbly Baths.
Parties. Specifically tea parties.
Cheesy pop music.

A Big Change Happening in Small Steps.

"Benny- Tomorrow is a big day for you, I suppose?" She leaned over her work, squinting in the dark light of the kitchen, afraid to get up and turn on the light should she risk forgetting how to read.

"What?" Dazzed, as usual.

"Tomorrow. The case. You go to settlement tomorrow, right?"

"Correct."

She shook her head at an imaginary question and then forgot to finish her work because she was thinking and obsessing and wondering. Will tomorrow be the answer Benny has waited two and a half years for, or will tomorrow just be another tomorrow in this string of endlessly dreamy days? Days when reality is replaced by what she has done, what she is running from, and what she is forgetting.

Oh Benny, what has this journey come to- an end, or simply a plot twist?

The Uncertain Adventures of a Certain Lady

The Boy and I have been talking lately about love and life and things we want and need from eachother.

We have decided that things between us are amazing. The Boy and I don't agree on everything. We don't have every detail figured out. But, if things continue on in this quiet, blissful way, we will certainly be headed towards a finite decision. An end and a begining. An answer.

Is that why we date? Do we date to answer some cosmic question of loneliness and and vulnerablity? Are we just simply pack animals in need of others of our likeness to fend off the wolves?

I think we are here to be in love.
To find love.
To learn how to communicate in love.

But maybe we just need someone to make the cold nights warmer.
That is ok with me too.

The Earth is not entirely dry nor entirely pointy, My Prince.

After an amazing week with you, I thought I would write you a little personal note about why I love you. I figured you could stand to read a few words, see a few thoughts, hear a few whispers. And here they are.

Thank you. Thank you for always making me comfortable. This vacation wasn't our speed- Vegas has far too many lights and sounds and sights and it is too dry. but with you, everything seemed more comfortable, more like home, more life like. You gave water to dry land, sun to artificial trees, and a voice to the howling wind.

I love the fact that you told me you love me over 100 times. It is so nice to hear it out loud. That isn't to say that you don't tell me often enough typically, it just made for a lot of special moments.

You look like someone I would be with. There was something in your smile, in the way your shirt fell on your shoulders, in you stature that made me thankful to be out with such a handsome fellow.

Waking up with you is always a special treat. Every time I have ever woken up near you, you have seemed to have been waiting for me with sweet anticipation. Laying there, propped up on your hand, smiling down at me while you wipe stray hairs from my face, I felt like I was in a bright, white washed scene from a movie.

And I am sorry. I am sorry you're not dating a single girl. I am sorry we could not just up and get married in Vegas. I am sorry The Ex called and ruined our quiet stillness. Our game of House. I am sorry for everything I cannot make better with just a click of my heels.

But it will all work out.

And Lord willin' the crick don't run dry....

This is not a dream.

"Don't be shy, today may be your last chance"

That is a direct quote from my facebook status a few days ago. For some reason, I had been caught up in this overwhelming depression. I was being crushed under midterms and expectations and general fed-up-ness with my life when I realized this thought:

Today might just be my last chance.

Life is so unpredictable. God, if there is one thing I know for sure, life is unpredictable. Life is not simply unpredictable, it is fearfully and wonderfully unpredictable.

Yesterday was our last chance to gather near our dear friend- to wish him well, to kiss his cheek, to listen to his stories, to make him comfortable.

Yesterday the world lost a shining beacon of hope in a sea of general malaise.

Yesterday, TJ Roberts said "Goodnight world" one last sweet serene time.

If you didn't know TJ, I am sorry.
If you did know TJ, weren't we lucky?

TJ was a bright young man with a passion for just about everything. He loved his job and was very talented. He loved his friends and never left even one person behind. He loved his family and thought of them always.

Tj was the kind of man who was a dozen different people all rolled into one.

He was a professional mentor, always taking the time to teach and share his genius with those around him. In an extremely competative and dying industry, he reached out to everyone he knew and leant whatever help he could, even if that meant taking time out of his own schedule to do so.

He was the life of the party, always running, always laughing, always talking, always brightening the room before him. He had a way of making everyone in the room feel as though he was thankful they came, thankful that he was blessed with their presence, happy to have guests and friends all around.

He was an amazing brother. Both biologically and spiritually. Everyone was TJ's friend from the moment he met them and every friend was family. He had an answer for every problem, and antecdote for every situation, a shoulder for every tear. His love for everyone was not contrived. It didn't stem from anything remotely selfish. It was pure and genuine. TJ loved you with a passion and wanted to see you prosper.

TJ was a son to many mothers, making each one proud and warm in his way. My own mother loved him dearly as a son and a friend. they shared car rides togehter often and when they did, my mom's resounding thoughts were always,"That boy can talk, but I love him." When his brother had his beautiful baby boy Dominic, it felt like my mom was the first person TJ called. He was so desperate to send her a picture of the baby that he took one with his phone and sent it to mine so I could show her. Her first reaction? "God help us, he's a little TJ!"

God help us, we all needed a little TJ.

There are a dozen regrets- moments we did not spend with him, calls we didn't return, thank you's we never said. There is a lot of hurt and angry feelings that a man so young, so great, so influential in his way would be taken so unfairly and so suddenly.

But in the light of this tragedy, I offer you all this thought:

Don't be shy, this could be your last chance.

Your last chance to touch some one.
Your last chance to thank some one.
Your last chance to love some one.
Your last chance to apologize.

Return the phone calls, accept the dinner invitations, cry on their shoulder, lend them an ear, run that errand for them, answer those texts, friend them on facebook, send those emails- do whatever it takes because today, right here, this moment is the moment. Today is the day.

Mima once said, "You only go this way once, so find a way to go."

Thank you, TJ.

Please don't Breaka my Fingahs.

I owe you all so many posts, I am afraid I have a hit out on me.

I'm not sure what is worse, having a hit out on me or worrying that it would be extremely low.

I promise I will resume your regularly scheduled postings after I stop losing my mind over everything seemingly all at once.

Here is what you have to look forward to:

The Boy's Sidekick in life, as yet unnamed
Money troubles. What do they call this thing, a recession?
Girlie problems. Damn being female.
Young John and Benny, of course.
The Boy, obviously
The Ex- which is never really fun but I just have a lot to say on that front. Mostly old news, but I feel it, so I must write it.
A million other thought, feelings, droolings, dreamings, schemings, and seemings.

For now, Back to you in the studio.

My Main Squeeze

Happy Valentine's day!

I wanted to give you all a peice of me without making you all puke. If it is at all possible.

The Boy and I have been together for something like ten months, three weeks, one day and two hours. Not that I am counting of\r anything. More iportantly, here are just a few random things I know/love/think about him and his wonderfullness.

1. He smells wonderful. Like a man. If theat makes any sense. He smells like his manliness with a splash of axe. It's amazing. It might just be amazing to me, but amazing nontheless.

2. His voice is soft and low and completely pleasing.

3. When he touches me, I can feel his fingertips on my heart.

4. His kisses are like wine.

5. He never gets worked up. Not over anything. He's never been mean nor tried to be boss.

6. He's a nice boy. My mom likes him. My mom has only ever liked one boyfriend of mine- I'll give you one guess- yes indeed it was Mr. Future Millionaire. Lame. I know.

7. He hates typical love songs. Things like "God bless the broken road" and "When you say nothing at all." So does he hate all sappy love songs? Absolutely not. Some of his favorite late night delights include "All of me" and "Moonlight Serenade."

8. He loves me. Wholly and completely without question. I know this because he tells me. I also know this in the light in his eyes, in his preference for me over many others. In his smile when I kiss his nose, in his blush when I tell others how awesome he is.

9. He has never rushed anything. His kisses are slow and warm. He holds my hands as long as I like. He talks to me, or listens to me talk long past bed time.

10. He's just so tall!

All of this considered, I can't imagine that any one ever stopped loving him once they knew him. All of this considered I understand why he gets hit on everywhere we go. Why everyone wants to set him up with their daughter, granddaughter and bank teller. I understand wy people say that as they mention his name they could get a tan from the light of my face. What I don't understand is why he is so in love with me. Me, the lunatic. Ultra clingy never satisfied me. Me who sees ten sides to everything.

Silly boy....

Somewhere in the crowd there's You.

You know there is no rest for the sorrowful.

Everytime I think I am over it, it haunts my doorstep yet again.

I you haven't guessed, I am watching Mamma Mia and fighting back tears through the whole thing.

If only true bastardom were this beautifully musical and wonderfully colorful.

But it's not. What it is is this long cold loneliness that numbs you from the deepest part of your essence out until you can't feel a thing. Not the hundred of tears you cry. Not the heartache. Not the anger. Not the utter desolation. Just a great big nothingness.

It is a question that holds you prisoner.
It is a bloody stump that never heals.
It is a never ending balancing act.

A struggle between not thinking about it ever and agonizing over the huge gaping hole in your heart.

No fun disco music. No beautiful island. No big white wedding.

Just a sadness.

Sweet Serenity's Bliss is in the Shining Eyes of His Love

Young John Something

Young John is a five. He is average. I can't give you any specs- I will not bore you with a height or hair color, a build or symmetrical analysis. But I will tell you he is average. Neither here nor there. Not enough to stop and turn to, but just enough to be caught up in conversation with.

Benny is also a five. Over the years, her hair has fallen flat and deepened in color. She has excess weight that just won't go away around her waist, on her arms, and her breasts are a little too large for her frame. She is taller than she should be, her skin is whiter than that of her family, and her eyes a muttle concoction of hazel, green and brown.

Young John did not peacock out to attract her. And Benny did not sashay his way to seduce him. Young and Benny met, shook hands and began talking their way into love. Maybe they are just fives, but they are the most natural couple, their ease lending itself as a viewing aid.

With all of these average qualities, what would make people take a second look at either one? Why do men consistently try to convince Benny that they are indeed a better choice for her? Why do women continue to talk to Young, stroke his arm, and smile seductively his way? It is Young and Benny.

Together, they are irresistible. Young and Benny walk into a bar, a party, a function and suddenly the life changes. They seem to consume all of the energy in a room. To create a circuit within and around themselves, attracting every light, every atom, all of the heat built up around them. Together, they can stop conversations, turn head and make the most solid couple jealous. What is it? What is that magic? What do people look to Young and Benny for?

It is the definition of the unknown. It is the turn of a hip, the toss of her hair, the light on his face. It is the silence in their speech, the movement of their thought. They walk together in a rhythm that can be heard for miles. They talk to other people in a room, parallel to one another, separate, but going in the same divine direction. I have seen Young and Benny go to a party together, without saying so much as two words to one another and everyone can see they belong together.

They come as a pair. Young will think and Benny will speak. Benny will thirst and Young will drink. It's uncanny, really. Uncanny and impossible to put into words to either one. If you ask Young why he loves her so, he will just smile- or beam rather- and say "Well, you've met her." Ask Benny what she and Young have in common and equally as coy she smiles and simply says,"Each other."

Benny doesn't take Young too seriously and Young dotes over her in an embarrassing but intuition driven way. They keep the balance of all of the energy in the universe on the tips of their lips by drawing back and overextending in places no other typical relationship thinks of. What training is there for this type of love? Where is the manual- what is their secret?

I am not Young or Benny, just an observer. But I would say it is simply fate. Dumb luck that they should be so utterly compatible. A simple stacked deck of aces.

Yes. They are simply luck bastards. The rest of us will go on quite cold and alone in comparison, but not Young and Benny. The real question though is not why they love each other so much, but if they were to split, would they, individual, make two other people just as happy? Are they cosmically blessed individuals with the capacity for greatness as their own universe? Or is it the case that they together set the room a little brighter, make the wine a little sweeter and the nights a little warmer?

Who will ever know, except those who have lost their chance to love one of the worlds most content.

Tu lo sai, lo sai crudel

We were talking in my Health 140 class about when to stop giving CPR or other first aid medical treatment.

My teacher's answer was "At the point of exhaustion- when it would endanger your life to continue"

And then I realized...

I was exhausted with you way back in the day. So why do I keep breathing for our relationship?

I took a true mental self portrait a few days ago. I am at a point where I had some time to re-assess my life, devise some new goals, and redefine my expectations. Here is what I realized:

I am carrying around toxic baggage from years past.
I still feel, soome where in my heart, like I need your love and approval to exist and be well- adjusted.
I need to either get past my emotions about certain people or remove them from my napsack of self doubt, self reproach, and other detriments.
I feel like I need to tell you, but I have to let that feeling go to.
That The Boy is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and he has exquisite timing to help me through the previous feelings.

Here are some things that I want to tell a few people, but will never get a chance to.

I miss you. I am sorry for every thank you note I never sent, every prayer I never said, every tear I never cried, every phone call I never made. I will see you eventually, but sometimes I don't feel worthy.
You are the reason I am a christian. That is the reason I will always love you in some way.
I never loved you. I loved the idea of you.
Maybe, some part of me got married as a rebound. Not a rebound to any one person, a rebound to an idea.
I want you to be happy, but I don't want any part of it.
I am very dissapointed that you would think me capable of malice. You know me. You know who I am.
The day you told me that you didn't like me when you first met me because I had all the answers in math class I realized you weren't my kind of people.
No, I will never like you. You creep me out and there is nothing you can do to un-do the weird eerie sort of pain you caused me in our tumultuous past.

I feel better knowing that life will go on just like it always has whether or not I address these people.

I also feel better knowing that these gripes, painful memories and old baggage will not hinder my life, my love or my soul from gorwing and flowing an developing.

But I know it's time. Time to get you out. Time to beat the rug and get all the dust out. Time to wipe the mirror and see me again. Time to relax in a hot bath and feel my frozen fingers. Time to stop the lame allusions and get to work!

Yes, it's true.

"But Girl, are you sure?"


There are a million and one things to think about when saying yes to someone. For one, What are they really asking you to do? Is a simple lunch date to you really the best chance this person has to collect some of your hair for the alter in their closet?

By saying yes when someone asks you to babysit are you really signing your life away to an ungrateful mom who will call you every Friday night?

By telling someone you love them, does that mean that life is over? That you have made a choice between that person and every other passionate dream you may have ever had?

When I asked the guy that set The Boy and I up for an account of The Boy, I had no idea his answer would be "He's tall." But that was the perfect answer for the beginning of the most calming, delightful, and comfortable relationship I have ever been involved in.

Last night I was trying to figure out why we work so well together. Turns out, it is written in the stars. Taurus and Scorpio are destined to be a loyal, formidable, fantastically passionate couple. He is a strong, constant earth sign with a determined nature. His love of possession and my love of power make us a pair to be reckoned with in the job market. I will teach him to never settle and to always wonder at life and he will teach me that sometimes life is just a four letter word. In short, we have always been intended. If you believe all that mumbo-jumbo.

The question is, what does it mean to say yes to this boy? To say "Yes, I love you?" To say "Yes I will love you?"

To say "Yes" to The Boy is to whisper his name onto every doorstep. To wear his heart on my sleeve. To have people see his light on my face.

To say "Yes" is to take this man in front of me and see him for what he is- stripped of florid poetry, devoid of sparkling entreaties, silent and waiting for one word.

To say "Yes" is to hold him in my heart, to let him walk beside me, to be unafraid to show him all of my faults, to share with him every thought he begs and some he could never imagine.

To trust.
To want.
To share.
To see.

To say "Yes" is to turn to him and admit that I am unsure of what it means but I am willing to find the definition together.

A Laugh and a Moment of Pride

"And then He walked right up to me and I started to melt-"

"Ooo, melting into a pool of desire, I knew this story would get good sometime," Young playfully twisted her long hair around his finger and laughed as she shoved his shoulder. If he were a marble, the force would have rolled him right out of bed. But he wasn't, and besides, his leg was intertwined with hers.

"No- no Young not at all. Melting like jello melts on a hot day. First I lost my edges, sort of blurred. Then my form shrank and shrank. Not into a puddle, but into a blob."

"Ooo, melting into a blob of Benny. I knew this story would get good sometime," Young knew that if he didn't pace his jokes, she might take him seriously and stop talking in fear of his review like she so often did. Young was no mind reader; Benny's words were precious, sparkling, vibrant love affairs with his mind one simple syllable at a time.

"ANYHOW-" her eyes turned a playful glance to Young. He knew he was in safe resounding territory if only she would keep her eyes beaming brightly on him.

"As I was saying, I just melted Young. I mean I had no control over what I said to him, how I reacted to what he said to me- oh, just everything fell apart." Tragic Benny was nearly one hundred times more adorable than Standard Issue Benny.

"Well what happened after you turned into a gellataneous mass?"

"Nothing. He said 'Goodbye,' and 'It was nice seeing you,' and I just shook my head in accord and walked back to my car."

"What? No dramatic kiss, no sweet reverie of oneness with your former love?"

"I hardly even know what he said Young let alone what I felt. And no- it wasn't like that anyhow..."

Young laughed to him self, "What you remembered your brilliant, handsome, loving boyfriend at home and you realized no matter what you and he had it couldn't even be called love when compared to-"

"Yes, of course, darling all of that... but Young?"

"Yes, Benny, ma cherie, my love, my sweet," At that he grabbed her decidedly until she nearly floated to him off of the bed and kissed her neck until her hair stood on end. She gently pressed her hand in protest against his arm, and gave in with a giggle.

"Well, Young, he was kind of..."

"What Benny? Fat? Married? Unemployed? Crippled for life?"

"Ha- Well, almost all of the above. Fat, Divorced, Unemployed and needy, to say the least."

"You must have gleaned something from the conversation then, to gather all of that."

She supposed she did. Or maybe Benny just knew all to well that downtrodden face of former loves.

Of Love and the Old and New

Many strange, awkward, unnerving and delightful things can happen in a year left open and unrestricted. Let's take a look.

In January, I was cold and unfeeling. Numb by to much work and absolutely no sleep or reflection, I had not allowed myself to heal or dream or cry or think about what had happened to me- to my marriage, to my essence. I alienated everyone around me because I was exhausted, angry, hurt and worst of all, hopeless. Hopeless for a future without the previous pains. Hopeless for a future that would be bright enough to cast away the shadows of my sins and failures.

February was a turning point not only of the year but of my life. For once, I followed impulses in me that lead to something good. Something productive. Something Me. I started school for the spring semester and connected. New people. New thoughts. New hopes. I remembered my plans and dreams pre-ruination and picked up where I left off with more fervor and dedication than I thought possible.

March came in much the same. Work, school, life, coffee breaks, term papers, presentations, new friends- it all blended into one beautiful mosaic. Until he came along. Until I noticed the most beautiful brown eyes I have ever seen. Untill I marveled at someone so like me that his oneness reached out and playfully tapped me on the nose.

The Boy and I met on an off chance at a local bar when I randomly accepted an invitation for drinks and rousing conversation with new friends. So randomly, I surprised myself. And then there he was. All of his tallness, quiet observation and poliet conversation in one essence. I made a fool out of myself as usual over him and thought nothing of it until there we were, answering text messages. There he was, calling me back. Here we were, chatting it up, making friends, going on dates, drinking, laughing, singing, loving.

In April we drank our weight in Bourbon and traveled down the coast to the ocean side. In May we spent warming nights talking about nothing and learning everything. In June we saw DC and laughed at it. In July we enjoyed family functions and moments of calm love. August was the month of a million text messages, September through November were just the same measures of quiet, sure, strong love I had grown accustomed to. December was christmas and cheer and holly and carols and sparkling love. And January is a new love. A true love. A blue love. A love where we don't say "If," we say "When."

The love of a Boy isn't everything. It just made everything seem more important this year. More possible. More tangible. Getting an A on my report card was exciting because The Boy would be proud of me. Seeing Hawaii alone was sad but hopeful because he will see it and love it as I do one day. He made the sad moments bearable and the bright moments brighter. Like a good wine, the love of a Boy who has a love for this girl was an accent to a fine meal of a year. A fulfilling, warming, nourishing year that I just haven't had enough of yet.