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Interests: Reading, 'riting, not so much 'rithmetic.
My favorite flavor is sugar.
My favorite show is the Simpsons. And anything on after midnight (even Elimidate looks good when you're blood tired).
Theology, music, film, pop culture, funny stuff.
Expertise: I kin rite reel gud.
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|I want to marry her. And when I say, I want to marry her, I don't
just mean that wistfully. We're engaged. We've talked about
spending our days and nights and twilight years together since we've
been placed back together by God's providence. I mean, literally, I
want to marry her soon. Now. |
In a sense, I'd be happy - scratch - elated to marry her today.
She would too. We're both old enough to know what we want.
But we also know that we need the efforts and support of our families
and friends (our communities - hopefully melding into one) in order to
make a sustainable stab at the whole marriage thing.
I think in a sense that most of my friends and relatives are on-board is related to two issues:
1) They're surprised that I'm seeing anyone at all.
I never even dated. I may have flirted. I certainly kept a
running tab in my head of potential mates, but never at any time made
any progress in that area. So, I'm pretty sure some thought I was
a closet homosexual. Others - my mother included - thought me to
be a lifelong celibate/bachelor. And others figured I'd wait to
find just the right person. I'm in that third camp. But in
any regards, they'd all have reason to celebrate.
2) I'm a big boy, with - like my father before me - a bull for a head.
I do change. I am considerate and moderately sensitive, I like to
think. But I have a sense of moral-rightness about me that I'm
sure all of my friends can attest to. Not that I'm self-righteous
(nor, on the flip side, humble). But when I believe I'm right, I
fight like a dog to protect that bone. This is my bone now, don't
pick a fight with me. It gets buried when I do.
She, on the other hand, doesn't have that support. Nearly
everyone is saying no, not now, or some variant thereof.
Partially because she came out of a bad relationship. Partially
because they see her as their baby. Partially because they don't
know me. Partially because they're not aware of our ongoing and
dynamic relationship. Partially - I like to believe, even
though I know it's false and unfair - because they're meanies and they
want to destroy any semblance of peace or joy in our lives.
She's my strong but delicate flower. But how can - or rather, how
do - I go about protecting her now from the ones that love her and have
been at her side in those dark moments when I wasn't even aware of her
status, let alone her struggles?
Lord, help us.
|sometime 'tween the beginning and the driving|
we were trying for the very first again
a shoving, easy pulley out and in
like a baby had lost her legs
i don't know which way
i should shop this grin
somewhere 'tween the end and the bends
found myself pulling for the breakfast
made room at the top of the drag
ice don't bear enough friction
spun camaro pulled
close into the snow
|I don't know what it is, |
but I distrust myself
when I start to like a girl
It makes me nervous.
I don't say the right things
or perhaps I start
what I am saying.
If I say, "Do you think it's going to rain?"
and she says, "I don't know."
I start thinking: Does she really like me?
In other words
I get a little creepy.
A friend of mine once said,
"It's twenty times better to be friends
than it is to be in love with them."
I think he's right and besides,
it's raining somewhere, programing flowers
and keeping snails happy.
That's all taken care of.
if a girl likes me a lot
and startes getting real nervous
and suddenly begins asking me funny questions
and looks sad if I give the wrong answers
and she says things like,
"Do you think it's going to rain?"
and I say, "It beats me,"
and she says, "Oh,"
and looks a little sad
at the clear blue California sky,
I think: Thank God, it's you, baby, this time
instead of me.
Poetry 180: A Turning Back to Poetry, ed. by Billy Collins
|If you were coming in the fall, |
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.
If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
- by Emily Dickinson