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I think about things a lot. And by "think about things" you understand that what I'm actually saying is that I will over-analyze certain topics into the ground and beyond. In spare moments when my time would probably be better used scrubbing the toilet--and sometimes while I actually AM scrubbing the toilets, I will actually be thinking of, for example, the multiple reasons why M and I are so well-suited. The thing is, any idiot can tell that we're well-suited after five minutes. But not just any idiot, I will further rationalize and expound upon the matter. I will think about how living on different continents for so long--ever notice that it sounds like a short amount of time when you retell it?--made us prioritize each other above other things. And that will make me think of the rule which we often theorize to be the secret of a happy relationship, and that is that both parties want, more than anything, at all times, to be part of the incredibly wonderful couple that they have become together. Sometimes I will take this opportunity to imagine a world in which I didn't want, more than anything, at all times, to be with M. That sounds horribly unromantic, but work with me here; I'm heading somewhere with it. I do it because it feels as if I am imagining a world in which the sky is full of water and the center of the earth is made of ice and Dick Cheney isn't actually evil--in other words, so totally foreign to everything that is. It leaves me with a warm, fuzzy feeling that reminds me that nothing is more important than who we are together, and how happy we are with our little life.
There are other things that I spend time pondering, too many things to mention here. One of those, though, is music. Since I began living with M, who I have often remarked enjoys a very different style of music than me, I have pinpointed exactly what it is about music that I like and dislike. I need words.. good words, meaningful words, words that fit together, words that remind me of what it's like to love and lose and laugh and live. (Lick is also a word that starts with L, and while it would have made an interesting sentence, perhaps it wasn't quite what I had in mind.) M needs melody, and mandolins. Well, not always mandolin, but it does help. He's more into how something sounds, and that's less important to me than what it means. Sometimes this will lead into ruminations about why I don't care too much for poetry and should, and why I don't care much for most music, and why emergency rhymes make me cringe. My favorite parts of my favorite songs from my favorite band are when the words break out of the melody and stand on their own. It's just all about the words for me.
Driving home from work today, I was thinking of all of these things while flipping through the radio channels and, as usual, finding absolutely nothing worth listening to. I don't know what triggered it, but suddenly, I remembered. I thought about a lot of things eight years ago, too, before M and I met. Only.. I wasn't analyzing what I like about Counting Crows so much then, and I wasn't analyzing the nature of happiness and love. I was thinking about shame for the things that I didn't do and the things that I accepted as a matter of course from people I needed to expect much more from. I was thinking about what the purpose of life was supposed to be, and what mine would be. I was thinking about how the only place I could be myself was when I was away from everyone else. It was a little jarring to put myself back there, just for a minute, because I vividly remembered that at the time, when I tried to imagine myself happy, it felt.. well, it felt to me like a world in which the sky was full of water and the center of the earth was made of ice and Dick Cheney--not that I knew who that was then--wasn't actually evil. In short, where I am now is so different from where I was then then that sometimes I can't even believe that I'm the same person.
And now, eleven days before my fifth anniversary.. I just wanted to say that the world I live in now, the one full of happiness and sunshine and butterflies--this is so much better than I could ever have imagined then.
There are other things that I spend time pondering, too many things to mention here. One of those, though, is music. Since I began living with M, who I have often remarked enjoys a very different style of music than me, I have pinpointed exactly what it is about music that I like and dislike. I need words.. good words, meaningful words, words that fit together, words that remind me of what it's like to love and lose and laugh and live. (Lick is also a word that starts with L, and while it would have made an interesting sentence, perhaps it wasn't quite what I had in mind.) M needs melody, and mandolins. Well, not always mandolin, but it does help. He's more into how something sounds, and that's less important to me than what it means. Sometimes this will lead into ruminations about why I don't care too much for poetry and should, and why I don't care much for most music, and why emergency rhymes make me cringe. My favorite parts of my favorite songs from my favorite band are when the words break out of the melody and stand on their own. It's just all about the words for me.
Driving home from work today, I was thinking of all of these things while flipping through the radio channels and, as usual, finding absolutely nothing worth listening to. I don't know what triggered it, but suddenly, I remembered. I thought about a lot of things eight years ago, too, before M and I met. Only.. I wasn't analyzing what I like about Counting Crows so much then, and I wasn't analyzing the nature of happiness and love. I was thinking about shame for the things that I didn't do and the things that I accepted as a matter of course from people I needed to expect much more from. I was thinking about what the purpose of life was supposed to be, and what mine would be. I was thinking about how the only place I could be myself was when I was away from everyone else. It was a little jarring to put myself back there, just for a minute, because I vividly remembered that at the time, when I tried to imagine myself happy, it felt.. well, it felt to me like a world in which the sky was full of water and the center of the earth was made of ice and Dick Cheney--not that I knew who that was then--wasn't actually evil. In short, where I am now is so different from where I was then then that sometimes I can't even believe that I'm the same person.
And now, eleven days before my fifth anniversary.. I just wanted to say that the world I live in now, the one full of happiness and sunshine and butterflies--this is so much better than I could ever have imagined then.
