I think I’m on the edge

Of something new with you

Are you ever just super happy?  I’m so happy right now.  Things have been so good for so long (knock on wood) and I’m just happy.  I love you all.  All of you.  I love you.

I believe in evolution.

I also believe in love.  I believe in the human ability to bond with other people on a level that defies reason.  I’ve also just decided that the word “beautiful” is the way to describe someone (and now I mean a certain someone…but who?) with whom you have that bond.  There are certainly more “attractive” people in the world than you.  Sorry.  Not many of them, to be sure, but a few; but you are beautiful (SO MANY SONG LYRICS I COULD QUOTE) and when I saw a picture of you just now it was that phrase that tore itself from my throat as my hands went up to clutch at the wall because of how you strike me every time you look the way you do.

You’ve told me I’m wrong and that I shouldn’t feel this way about you; that I don’t know you as much as I should to make that call.  But I know you enough to know how good it feels to be anywhere near you and how bad it feels to think of you, sad, and not have the right of fixing it with my arms.

Once is rarely enough.  But you are so much more to me than a body; you are beautiful in the way that God, if God exists, would have made Eve so Adam could not have said no.

Please understand this:

It didn’t need to happen

We wanted it to

I have a certain way of feeling about people. I can be in love with only one person at a time, I think; hopefully that’s the way of the world in general. But while that is going on unreciprocated, I can feel so intensely good about other people that it very much approaches a sort of love.

My infatuations work like that at this point–there are several people for whom I have this feeling. They all bring different things to the table, and their little quirks are what allows me to want them all at once, in various but equally important ways.

What I want, as I’ve said, I can’t have. So what I want now is someone who will understand me and lie in bed with me and know me deeply, and kiss me while smiling and not worry where I go or what I do because wherever it is that I’m going or whatever it is I’m doing, that person will know that it’s not bad. I want someone who knows that she and I are probably not going to be together forever but wants to be with me now anyway; I’m going to London in August and like I’ve said, I won’t do long distance again. But I miss having that regular comfort of bare skin next to mine and the sleepy smile that means “I’m glad you’re still here.”

I can have this feeling of affection and attraction and appreciation and have a physical relationship, all with the same person, and not have it be a girlfriend thing. Would you call that “friends with benefits”? I don’t know. For most people I think it’s too unreasonable. But why can’t I think you’re amazing in your own right, then go to bed with you and wake up with you and roll in your arms and not be in love with you despite? Love is so strong that something less strong still has worth.

The hopeless romantic in me hates this, but it’s true. The heart is too complicated. Reality, however, can be fairly simple–great friends, great sex. Convenient.

But no one else seems to be able to do it.

On an unrelated note, I miss my roommates!

What I want most I can’t have.

What I wanted most after that I had very briefly and lost, seemingly for good.

Something is better than nothing.

Why can’t one of you stay?

I just had a dream that I was in yet another production of “The Music Man,” or a very similar show.  It was taking place in my middle school auditorium.  I was forgetting my lines, as usual, but for some reason it was appropriate for me to be reading them from a script onstage.  My brain tends to allow me to do that in dreams.  Thanks, brain.

I also had to name all of the fruits/vegetables in a little sectioned box that I was holding.  This is harder to do with small strips of flora [shoutout to Flora!] than you might think.  I screwed it all up but the audience didn’t know, and they loved me and cheered and clapped after I’d finished my scene.  I walked offstage proud and happy–

–and ran into my music history teacher, who was playing the part of Harold Hill.

In his underwear.

Oooh, Professor Harris.

For several years, the concept of a “gym” was fairly foreign to me.  I saw no need to exercise.  I had walked to elementary school for six years, after all.  My thighs were great.

Yeah.

So anyway, once I started dating someone who was actually in shape and cared about her body and health, I began to realize that I was an idiot and I should probably try not to die of a heart attack.  I got my ass kicked into relative shape, and kept it up at college.  Now I’m home for the holidays and in gym withdrawal.

Despite the fact that I only went to the gym twelve times this semester, the majority of those were at the end of it–time was tight and my abs were not, but I started to make up for it.  Racquetball = amazing.  Coming home to a house full of food and comfy couches kind of ruined that momentum.  Luckily, there’s a gym here that offers one-week memberships.  If I get two of those starting Monday, I’ll have two weeks of sweaty goodness and then I’ll be back at school, fully FitRec’d and BADASS.

I’m proud of myself because I want to do this.  I like the gym.  I like being healthy.  I’m not a lazy ass!  Hooray!

GAAAAAAH DAMN YOU HEART DAMN YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUU

I don’t want to go home for winter break.  It’s sad, really, because I love Vermont and the vibe I get there.  Burlington is unswervingly fantastic, the countryside is gorgeous, and people are (generally) nice.

But I don’t want to go there.  I want to stay in Boston, where things are still new–or go somewhere unknown and full of extra-new things.  So much sucked in my life the last time I spent a while in Vermont that I don’t want to go back into that situation.  I won’t have a job, my new awesome friends won’t be there (unless they are…you guys had better roadtrip it up), and I will not have the ridiculous fun stuff to do there that I do here.

Actually, maybe I will.  I have a lot of projects in store for myself: choosing and memorizing my next jury piece, getting better at piano, perhaps getting my singing voice in shape, perhaps getting myself in shape…I’m sure I can find something to do.

I just don’t want to do it at home.

I feel sad.

I feel sad because I am not in love.  I miss kissing; I miss cuddling.  I want someone awesome to be in love with me, and I with her (yes, it will probably have to be a her, sorry).

I have some people in mind.  Not really working out with those people, for various reasons.  It’s frustrating.  I miss that connection that comes with a real relationship
and I know that there are people I could have it with–but you guys don’t want it from me.  I feel like walls get randomly dropped down between me and the people I like the most.

Why am I so emo?  Arg.  Oh well.  What are blogs for.  On the plus side I don’t have to use that hideously bulky wallet any more, because I took an old one from the lost and found.  Hello, Hell.  At least I’ll have a trendy wallet when I get there.