There's no reason.

Somebody I love said something interesting today.

Three of us were having lunch and discussing relationships. We were looking at the various relationship stages around us: a friend who recently became engaged, a friend whose better half left after five years, a friend who plans to marry but is in no rush, a friend content without long-term prospects, and a friend questioning her current relationship.

Oops, moment of vertigo.

Anyway, we were discussing the lattermost relationship. The iffy one. It is not a simple situation, but no relationship ever is. Interesting people, interesting circumstances, interesting possibilities. They have been together well over a year (a long time by both parties' standards). She is beginning to discover what she really wants and needs and deserves in a man. He has become accustomed to her and what she has to offer. She is worried that it's time to make a decision. He has no idea that he could lose her.

Get to the point. I am quite tired, so this is going to become blunt.

My dear friend, one of my dearest, remained quiet (listening) throughout much of the conversation. But she became quite vocal on one point:

There's not really a good reason to end the relationship.

No, she said. Absolutely no. I hate that. That is the stupidest thing ever and I hate it. That is not a reason to stay with somebody. You deserve, everybody deserves, to be with somebody that makes them happy. Happy.

If happy isn't part of the equation...

the giving tree, immortalized

I was avoiding my homework when I stumbled upon (aside: I hate that I can no longer use the phrase "stumble upon" without people assuming I'm talking about StumbleUpon. Fucking lame sauce.) a photo of a necklace.

Put very simply, it was perfect. I gasped when I saw it. And then I smiled, and then I cried.

It was beautiful.

But now for the selfish/materialistic/generally silly part: I love the necklace and it's perfect for me, but it wouldn't mean anything if I were to buy it for myself. It would need to come to me as a gift, and it would need to come from somebody I love (and who loves me, too). At the same time, I feel that it's not something I could ask for, or about which I could drop subtle hints. Again, it would take away from the simple beauty of the meaning. It would become cheap.

Ah, well. Maybe I'm meant to admire it from afar. I have no doubt that it will continue to bring a smile and a tear.

For your viewing pleasure (and context).

the usual concerns

Like most people, I hope for a family someday. When asked why, however, I don't know exactly what to say.

I look at myself and my parents, and I cannot imagine why anybody would elect to have a family.

1) Families are expensive. Think about medical payments, car insurance, tuition, and groceries. That money is not a loan. I am not going to reimburse my parents for my music lessons or my bed. Families cost thousands upon thousands of dollars. I struggle to support myself.

2) Families are exhausting. When I come home from class every day, all I want to do is sleep. I don't want to run errands, make food, or write papers. I don't want to sweep, do laundry, or unclog the shower drain. All I want is a glass of water and some solitude.

3) Families are dramatic. Fighting is unavoidable. There are simply too many issues, most of which are money. Even outside of money, the points of contention abound. I get stuck in family politics, people dying, and the fact that I and not Andy am going to be the one taking care of my parents in their old age. It causes problems.

4) Families are terrifying. My parents' relationship makes me never want to get married. It makes me want to run screaming from any potential long-term companion. That I might one day be responsible for the outcome of another life is more petrifying yet. Despite my best efforts, my future child may cheat, lie, or use emoticons excessively. And I will have to love it unconditionally.

If this is the reality, why do people so desire family? Why do they pursue spice (spouses) and hope for children?

Is it really worth it?

Self-destructive in ways you never imagined.

It's amazing what one will find with a little bit of cleaning...

a note, circa 2003, from my (very messy) desk

"open this if I die"

I want Carah to sing at my funeral. I want Claire and Whitney to dance. I don't want anybody to wear black, and I want people to smile. I want there to be balloons instead of flowers. Except for lilies. I want to have lilies at my funeral. I want people to forget all of the difficult times and just be happy remembering all the times we laughed and laughed and laughed. I want my photographs to be put in a photo album. All of them, not just the good ones. I want people to walk barefoot. I want them to remember my voice.

Saturday night in the most geographically remote place on the planet

salt stains on my desk

suggest that I am real, but

it's another lie

Soul-itude

I like this time of night.

Nobody is awake. It's far too late on my side of the world, and it's a little too early for everybody else. I hear no voices, no footsteps. All I hear is the wind, and my fingers against the keys.

I sit up straight and my spine scolds me for slouching, voicing its displeasure with a half-dozen little pops.

The hours pass quickly when it's this late. Soon my world will be waking. The sun will peek up, warmly rousing the East. It'll pass over the land, casting its light onto sleeping bodies. More will wake, yawn, and stretch. Finally, finally the sun will find me. It will cross the water, traveling traveling traveling until it reaches me. It will creep up over the mountains, cast its light through the trees and into my windows. I'll admire the rays that cascade onto my floor, splay across my walls.

I will smile and shut my eyes.

I hope.