nightmares

Two summers ago my nightmares became so bad that I would sit up in bed all night trying to stay awake, just to avoid dreaming. Last night, I had a dream that was so horrible, so totally vicious and terrifying, that sleep no longer sounds inviting. And for me, that's a big deal. I love sleep. But to face something like that dream again...It was like a Lifetime original movie, only with more violence. Maybe it's because I slept irregularly this whole weekend due to my work schedule. I will try to get to bed early and wake early too. Hopefully that helps, because if it doesn't, it's back to sitting up all night.

like love

I watched Julie reclining in the arms of her boyfriend whispering sweet nothings to him, and I had to wonder...how does she do it? I can't. I do not posses the ability to say all those googly gaggly giggly things to someone in whom I am interested. And pet names, forget it. I can see myself in the middle of a relationship being able to say nonchalantly, "hey hun, could you pass me the butter?" but as for starting it...Well, let's just say I'll never be the one to nickname someone Bry-bear. Am I just bad at a natural part of relationships -that wouldn't surprise me at all- or is it not in my character no matter how natural a relationship feels to me to whisper seductively all the reasons why I think my guy is knight-in-shining-armor-in-a-box?

In search of answers I interrogated Julie and Tarythe. All I got out of it was that I'm screwed up. Thanks Julie for saying, "Well, there are a lot of things you just try to get out of, aren't there?" Ouch. I lost my drive on the research mode and switched to defense mode. I lost time and momentum, and have yet to understand mushy relationships.

There are reasons besides my own psychoanalysis for understanding. The characters in my book cannot all think, act and feel the way I do. I need the perspective of someone uninhibitedly romantic, someone male, and someone completely stoic. I am not any of those things. I am a cynically optimistic romantic realist. Therefore: I don't understand anybody.

Another topic of concern. How does one go about saying "I love you"? Tarythe has dropped the word numerous times. She means it the way I mean it when I talk to Elise. How does one mean it the way Jane Austen writes it? The more I feel for a person, the more I want to pull away. I don't hold any emotion back, but I let the other person think that I have. Maybe I feel more secure that way. Really, however, it means they don't love me and then they back off, leaving me feeling very naked and wounded. To prevent said broken heart, whenever the impulse to take any next step hits me, I inevitably take a step back. I have been in love, but I never voiced it. So, to reiterate, how does one do it the normal way? How does it work? How does one bring oneself to saying those three monumental words?

Get back to me. Because I just don't get it.

happy holidays

I never knew why the Holidays created such depression in people. For me they have always been a time of supreme bliss, a time to share with loved ones, to celebrate all that is good in the world. Now I understand. The reason for the depression is not having loved ones around with whom to celebrate. For three days I felt this. It is a crippling, debilitating pain that turns everything gray and makes breathing the biggest task of the day. Now, I tend to learn things about myself by observing my actions, and I watched as I slept too long and then did nothing but read all day. When the phone rang I raced haphazardly toward it. I crashed into walls in my enthusiasm to reach someone, to be reached. Then I got an email inviting me to thanksgiving dinner with my family. It will be enough time before work that I can go. My day turned into rainbows and artichoke hearts. I watched a chic-flick without tears. I still race for the phone, but I don't think I'll ever outgrow that.

nora, too big for prose

When you were near I rarely cried.
The need was gone.
But when outside forces overpowered me,
when I finally melted into tears,
you were there to make sure that I wasn't alone,
and then you picked me up again.

With you around laughter was language.
We made ridiculous an art,
as we squirmed and squished on my bed.
I told you everything and you understood.
You would tease, as sisters do,
but then you loved me more.

When you were home I was never lonely.
Homesick was when you were away.
And then I could call you and you would always be there.
I never had to tell you of the pain,
because as soon as I heard your voice
the loneliness was gone.

My world fell apart along time ago.
I never knew it.
Because I had you.

Since you've been gone,
I feel each time a wall shakes,
each time my heart breaks,
and I know how much you bore for me.

It makes me glad that I am now
old enough to bear something
for you.

success stories

It is a universal rule that when a girl confesses love to a guy, he shuns her forthwith. Well doesn't it just beat all that Julie receives a date invitation when she makes her confession. How does she do it? Does the awkwardness help, or does he have to have affection for her already when she comes to him? That's been every girl's problem.

But now, ladies and gents, I have a better success story to properly inspire you all. Nora is considering going back to school at BYU. There are many laws upon which this blessing is predicated, so we can't yet count our chickens (I just mixed scripture and chickens!) but the success is that she wants to try. I'm so proud. It just tickles me. It rendered me speechless, quite speechless I tell you, and I have not stopped talking of it since.

Eegads, I'm too hyper to write anything sensible, but when I calm down there will be an entry dedicated to my fantabulous sister.

matchmaker, matchmaker

Emilie and I had a wonderful and sad conversation. We both cried. It involved our hurt feelings, not from each other, but from past relationships. It ended in one conclusion: we need to reinstate arranged marriages.

We will set up a network, like LDS Link-up. Parents can communicate over vast distances, narrowing their network to a community of shared values from which to pick their children's spouses. This would solve so many problems.

I would never try to give a bad first impression because I know that he's in it for good, no matter what.
I wouldn't hold back and because of that he would love me as I am, making a long-lasting strong relationship of its own.
My parents, who have such different ideas of what's good for me, would find the perfect match when finally forced to compromise.
Those who cannot marry arranged out of sheer principle will be those story-worthy passionate ones who are destined to find true love or a great calling on their own anyway.
Guys would be held to a much lower standard for romance. That's good for them and us.

Overall, good idea.

in my mind

We used to go on walks holding hands;
now when my hands close they cannot help
but remember the calluses and
creases in yours.
I cannot close my hand all the way;
my fingers leave a space there for you,
as if your hand had never let go.
it's still there.
When I walk alone my hand will still
take along you.
that's not true.
we never held hands.

It is my mind that takes you with me.
i am in distant lands without you;
but it seems to me that you are here.
constantly here.
We laugh at all of our inside jokes;
together we sing that same old tune;
tell me how you learned to play it on
your old guitar.
We discuss the new ideas I've heard.
i debate you.
why do I lose;
it's all in my head?

I remember everything for you;
i bring back the jokes, songs and hearsay.
now we can laugh and sing and argue.
now it's true.
We live the walk that you took with me;
then you in turn tell me of your life
and the walk that I went on with you.
i was there.
This is how I hold hands with you -all
when we talk.
on my walk
and again on yours.