The Hippest Thing...

Is when you are so inspired by someone, that you resurrect your year-old blog to express some oblique, non-specific sentiments about said person.

This person is somewhat of a dilemma to me--at first the mind wants to say enigma, as there is undoubtedly so much about her that I don't know--but there is also much about her that I DO know, so enigma doesn't seem appropriate. Dilemma, however, definitely fits. Not in so much as it is unpleasant, but more because knowing this person has thus far been free from all normal ambiguities and pitfalls that normally befall the heteroparadigm. Granted, we've had some difficult moments, but overall, I see nothing in the knowing of this woman except Fun, Intelligence, Understanding, Caring, Wit, Talent, and [insert any poisitive statement here and it will be applicable].

So, where is a dilemma in a person surrounded by such perfectly perfect descriptors and modifiers? Of course it's just the usual. Fear. Fear of screwing up something that already, sans touch, has bored its way into my heart and which tempts me not at all to remove or even disentangle the roots that have grown there. Yea, the ole catch-22, you like them so much you are afraid to love them? Perhaps. Or there is the self-depricating approach: "I'm not worthy, at least while I'm in MMT." So many things, so many factors, so many swirling possibilities, but down deep, down dirty, down as low as you can go there's just the simple fact that I adore someone, for the first time since I was last adored, I suppose.

So, the majestic aspect of knowing someone new, somone that you adore is not even atypical here, as I have primarily come to adore, and perhaps also be adored, almost exclusively via telephone and for the most part email. Not that we have always sent short, stubby, typically "e" mail, but we have played linguistic tennis of the highest order. She has one of those minds that you can literally swim in, if she chooses to put the lifeguard up for a shift and bear all (or at least as much as she has decided to share with me). She calls it "the box," this strange electronic medium where all of our sayings, tyrades, happenstances, jokes, flirts, and wisdom coalesce into an illumined cube of knowing.

Of course, there is the Biggest Hurdle, according to her, and ashamedly agreed upon by myself, is this Death Juice I have to take everyday in order to not exist as an endorphin deprived freak. Of course, this Cherry Filth has served a great purpose, in weening me off of opiates, and yet, an opiate it remains, even if the high is left behind. 25mg to go and then my body will be released from The Prison, and hopefully the most powerful forces in the universe will call favor to my torture, and help me get through it relatively unscathed. Will I find her "waiting" at the end of that process? Or will Love find her before then--or, there's always the possibility that our connection remains too unerringly reciprocal to even dare to approach the big "C." Complexities. Is there a non-linear equation to describe the complex feelings that come round the bend when a girl is your best friend? I don't know. But I know she has to be the Pilot, and unfortunately, me just a passenger, until roundabout February 15th, when my body shall emerge from it's Opiate cocoon, hopefully ready to put on the co-pilot headphones and plot a flight plan. Until then, it is enough to know that I at least have such an amazing friend who doesn't get annoyed when I talk politics, who doesn't think me weak for former mistakes (and these are whales, people), and who seems to laugh and smile with the wind of my words. There could be no greater gift, whether you touch the cheek or not. I suppose I'm waiting for that look, if we ever actually see eatch other on a regular basis. The look that makes you realize that you've bored your way in, the look that says, unfalteringly, "kiss me." And if I see the look, shall I purse my lips? Normally, that wouldn't be a choice at all, but something tells me I might see that look dancing back and forth with another one that says "wait." Like I said, she's the pilot. I just know I want her around--and if she's not around, then a few words from that megolithic wit will do, because keeping a one in a million around in any capacity is a challenge, especially when you're faced with a monumental struggle such as myself. The willingness not only to witness it, but also to encourage success, is a gift she probably has little clue as to the enormity of, and yet offers wholly and completely. I think, maybe, that's the biggest road sign she's held up. You know, being a man, sometimes we need to be hit on the head with a large hammer to understand what is expected of us. I just hope her aim is true, and her motives selfish.

It's about time I made someone else happy again. So she comes down tomorrow, and maybe I can make her smile, buy her dinner, make her forget about work and the humdrum scythe of time for a few hours. Because, the more I think about it, the more I realize that just in a few thousand words, this person has given me back so much I thought I had lost, and renewed so much of the zeal I worried would never return. We exist much in the Realm of Jest, but lurking just beneah is an undeniable connection that I simply must not try to define lest I drive it off. Which is why I type out these things now, to expunge, to cathart, to repeal any tendencies for the same-ole same ole human traps of over analytical social self-despotism and unyielding worry, and remind myself over and over again, that I'm just going to be glad to see her, and hope that kissing the forehead is a well-tolerated, and yet sub-surface level understood by The Muse in The Augusta Ether.

9:30 PM - 11/18/2005 - post comment

For what it's worth

I think we all understand at some point in our lives we´ve found some type of deliverance. An oracle or bird might signify that the great story book hasn´t forgotten you. Deliverance for all the hard times, for all the aches, false hoods, and bad moves that brought us here is just another way of saying acceptance. Sure, the world will still break in, rob us blind, and try to tether us to the bed post, but when you meet someone you believe in, truly believe in, you find yourself pushing it back, not letting it take you down so far. I believe in you as much as I believe in myself, and I know that scares you. After all, you stole from yourself, why not I, not everyone, think you deserve less? Maybe it´s because of all that I have seen myself that let´s me know the difference, makes that first impression I had of you (prior to you opening your dumb mouth to me in the car) shine at me the way it does. The beacon that radiates from you takes the fog away, lets me see you the way you see yourself in love, hate, weakness, and brilliance. We are all one beautiful mess.

We´ve written a lot about how this world spins us, what we want from it, what we´ll take from it, and in this small way I feel like I´ve grown up with you. So far from the truth, but nonetheless real to me in way I don´t have to spend every moment with you to have that sense of knowing how you will take it, how strong you are yet humble. Learning you is like slowly opening that gift you stared at under the tree for weeks, knowing it´s just the right size and shape to make your Christmas bright.

It´s been a slow Christmas, but I wouldn´t have it any other way, I´m only on my second piece of tape.

So many colors in this friendship, so many shades of center, base, angle, and length, I don´t know how to explain its size or shape. When we can share time together everything´s just a little brighter, at the very least.

I want to thank you, a, for every chance you´ve given me to grow. I want to thank you for proving me wrong about the distance you are willing to go. I want to thank you ahead of time for all the lessons learned from this just in case I never get to say it in person.

How I feel won´t leave me, what I think I know won´t let reason discard it, and what I´ve experienced can´t be minimized. On this very page you threw a ball, now I´m tossing it back.



Happy Birthday, A

Here´s to many, many more



Truly,

A

Anonymous - 9:52 PM - 3/15/2006