Minutes past

Hello, readers.

Ten minutes to eleven. It’s been over a month since I’ve written anything. It’s been over a month that I’ve read anything that doesn’t talk about Biostatistics or healthy public policies. Life has become a whirlwind that seems to stand still. Like going for surgery, disconnecting from the world only to wake up and find that the world has gone on without you. It has changed and so have you. And it’s not one of those emotional improvement changes, it’s a visceral/physical change.

Two minutes to eleven. Grad school is everything and nothing like I expected. Everything and nothing. I’m happy. My hands digging into the doughy bits, there’s no mold just the shapes your hands can make. And it’s liberating to feel that control, to grasp it firmly in your fist in a show of victory.

A minute past eleven pm. I miss my friends. Life has gone on without me, as it should. And in a few short weeks we’ve reorganized ourselves into new dynamics. It’s an exercise in anxiety management, these worn paths of friendship suddenly diverging. We’ve become many small roads, instead of a four lane highway.

Four past eleven, time flies. I miss the quiet moments. The not doing anything with someone else. I miss my wife, passionately and profoundly. Like I carved out my heart to make space for new knowledge. Like I was put under and someone scooped it out without my consent.

I close my eyes and panic a little because I didn’t know this would happen. I panic because I should’ve known. This heartache of missing people that are there, feeling whole in their embrace and shattered in the knowledge that you’re the one that’s unavailable.

Eleven past eleven. Make a wish. I wish you were here. Not so quietly playing The Sims, while that annoying Kim K soundtrack plays on your tablet.

Thirteen past eleven. I wish I could take you for granted again.

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Sharing the love

Hello, readers!

Today I woke up to find my wife had written something. One of my joys in life is reading her. So, instead of reading me that’s what I offer you today, reading her. When I started blogging I used to write for her all the time, these woman who understands my train of thought like no one else does. Samples of affection as clear as ice and water in a glass. I might do that next week, so brace yourselves. In the meantime, check out her latest post.

AUGUST 3 Things seem to happen in alliterations for me, more so than in 3s. Even though The Wizard Of Oz is one of my favorite movies, I rarely get to say “something, something and something, oh my!”. It’s one of those satisfactions I’d really like to experience; I hear it’s all about the simple pleasures.

via August 3| On closets & conversations —

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Until next time, readers!

Destination: Oklahoma

Oklahoma

Hello, readers!

And a happy Monday to you. The weekend turned out much better than I could’ve hoped. It’s entirely possible I passed my test, so I’m hesitantly optimistic on that front! Beers were not had with the wife… Instead we pumped ourselves full of Gin, accompanied by things like passion fruit and citrus and mint and rosemary. Say what you will about hipsters, but they’ve got their alcohol down pat. I also learned a bit of hebrew. So, you know, all in all it was a pretty good weekend.

self-five

In other news.

We’ve been in Oklahoma for what seems like an unnecessarily long time. I know. I get distracted. I suppose I’m part goldfish. Perhaps the part that likes to drink? (That was a terrible joke, but I’m endlessly amused nonetheless. I’m sorry. Please bear with me.) In any case, enough is enough! I was looking for poetry about Oklahoma, because why not? And I found this little gem. It’s about writing and being there and writing without being there. It’s full of down to earth imagery that takes you there. To that place that makes you think, I want to write about this….

In Oklahoma

by CARTER REVARD

When you leave a Real City, as Gertrude Stein did, and go to Oakland, as she did, you can say, as she did, there is no there, there. When you are a Hartford insurance executive, as Wallace Stevens was, and you have never been to Oklahoma, as he had not, you can invent people to dance there, as he did, and you can name them Bonnie and Josie. But a THERE depends on how, in the beginning, the wind breathes upon its surface. Shh: amethyst, sapphire. Lead. Crystal mirror. See, a cow-pond in Oklahoma. Under willows now, so the Osage man fishing there is in the shade. A bobwhite whistles from his fencepost, a hundred yards south of the pond. A muskrat-head draws a nest of Vs up to the pond’s apex, loses them there in the reeds and sedges where a redwing blackbird, with gold and scarlet epaulets flashing, perches on the jiggly buttonwood branch. Purple martins skim the pond, dip and sip, veer and swoop, check, pounce, crisscross each other’s flashing paths. His wife in the Indian Hospital with cancer. Children in various unhappiness. White clouds sail slowly across the pure blue pond. Turtles poke their heads up, watch the Indian man casting, reeling, casting, reeling. A bass strikes, is hooked, fights, is reeled in, pulls away again, is drawn back, dragged ashore, put on the stringer. In Oklahoma, Wally, here is Josie’s father. Something that is going to be nothing, but isn’t. Watch: now he takes the bass home, cleans and fries it. Shall I tell you a secret, Gert? You have to be there before it’s there. Daddy, would you pass them a plate of fish? See friends, it’s not a flyover here. Come down from your planes and you’ll understand. Here.

Until next time, readers! Stay tuned for a more in depth look at my August: Osage County reading experience during the #24in48 Reading Marathon!

Alphabet Soup: W is for Wife

This segment titled Alphabet Soup: The alphabet according to someone with very little shame and a lot of time on her hands was inspired by blogger Mandy Wallace and the Writers of Kern A to Z challenge. Enjoy!

Happy Friday, readers!

I hope you’re all doing well and getting ready for the weekend! My version of that is to stay at home studying all day because tomorrow I have my grad school admission test. Wuuuuuut?! Terrifying stuff, man. I haven’t taken a math class since high school. So, I’m hoping the cram session will do me some good. And what am I going to do afterwards, you ask? I’m taking my wife to Disneyland! Nah, I’m too broke for that. I’ll probably take her out for a beer though, or something.

W is for Wife

People always react weirdly when I say I have a wife. First they assume I’m legally married to someone and also a lesbian, then when I clarify it’s neither they dismiss the whole thing as a trend. And it definitely is a trend, girls saying they’re married to their best friends. It’s usually just another term for best friend though, which doesn’t make it less just different.

When I say she’s my wife, I mean I’d probably actually marry her. The closest I can come to describing it is being in an asexual relationship. She’s the one person I love doing nothing with. The one person I can picture spending the rest of my life with. Commitment with her, in any of its iterations doesn’t seem daunting. It seems normal, almost obvious.

I see her and I think she sees me, which is really all we’re looking for in life, isn’t it? We all want that person who is always there for us. Who gets our jokes, who listens, who is actively interested in what we have to say. That one person who is excited when good things happen for us, whose words are never empty.

So no, it’s not just a trend. I don’t just mean she’s my best friend, although she is that too. The fact that you don’t quite understand it, doesn’t mean it’s something to be dismissed. It’s real and kind of electrifying when you think about it. To have stumbled upon something so solid, so there. She makes me happy, ya know?

She’ll read this at some point. We’ll both be mildly embarrassed because neither one of us has any idea how to deal with feelings. It’s nice.

(By the way hwife, we’re going for a beer date tomorrow after my test. Yes? Yes. Kloveyoubai!)

Until next time, readers!

Alphabet: S is for Side by Side

This segment titled Alphabet Soup: The alphabet according to someone with very little shame and a lot of time on her hands was inspired by blogger Mandy Wallace and the Writers of Kern A to Z challenge. Enjoy!

It’s Fridaaaaaayyyyyyyy. #Excitement

S is for Side by Side

It’s currently 1:21am. I’m sitting in front of my best friend, while we sip Hot White Chocolate. She’s on her computer. I’m on mine. There are moments when we don’t speak. There’s music on. This has been going on for approximately 5 hours. And it sounds like we’ve run out of things to do, but this was the plan. She came over expressly for this, this being absolutely mundane in each other’s company.

There’s something to be said for it. Sitting next to her, the silence feels like home. Like making everything else irrelevant. Like understanding what people say when they talk dreamily about not needing anyone else. She mutters under her breath, while I surf the web aimlessly.

Suddenly a song comes on, we start singing at the same time. Bobbing our heads in exactly the same way. Because we’ve danced together enough to get to that place. Enough to anticipate, to merge our styles – my head sways, her fist pumps.

And I can’t help but wonder if our hearts have synchronized. If our breath flows in tandem, a push and pull of the world around us that’s never the same, but complementary. I wonder if the world has learned to grow around us. Covering us in layers of time, fine powders that get into everything. The sands of time settle in the corners of this thing we’ve built. And it’d be so easy to drown in them with someone else. But she’s not someone else. She’s the silence I look forward to. The person that makes the mundane something to look forward to. The one who makes forever seem like not enough.

She’s still in next to me. Skyping with someone. The hot chocolates are gone. TLC is on. Life goes on, but it goes on better with her. You know?

Until next time, readers!

Alphabet Soup: P is for Paris

Hello, readers! I hope this Friday finds you full of energy for the coming weekend. I know I’m feeling primed and ready to go. For some reason though, I ended up feeling nostalgic and thinking about that time, so many moons ago, when I was in Paris.

When I was in my third year of college an opportunity arose to visit Paris on a study/travel trip. Basically, we’d take a few classes at the university, then head off to Paris to see it all firsthand. At the time I was saving up for a car, but I decided to do the trip instead. Which, in hindsight, is when I started putting travel above anything else.

I remember being scared, but also incredibly excited. I’d never done anything like it and I didn’t know anyone on the trip, at least not well enough for them to be a safety net. I ended up rooming with the person I sort of knew, which turned out to be a disaster. But despite that, the trip was excellent. I ended up meeting people who are among my best friends today, like Nelson and Denise.

Traveling to Paris, although I didn’t quite know it at the time, marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. A time of new friends who would push my boundaries. Of trying new things and breaking out of my shell and feeling the world change beneath my feet.

I don’t think they know it, but they’ve been such a huge part of shaping who I am today. We’ve traveled together, laughed and cried together. In the years I’ve known them they’ve become two of my favorite people.

In the end, this post isn’t about Paris, but about the people I met there. The ones I still talk to and the ones who were there and gone. Because they were all part of it. Part of the strange magic and odd convergence that was Paris. This post is about the friends I made and how my life wouldn’t be the same without them.

Have a good one, readers! Enjoy your weekend!