:: Sunday, September 29, 2002 ::

"Sing to me the song of the stars..." (Switchfoot)

It always astounds me the way "ordinary" people suddenly become all things bright and beautiful through the eyes of affection. I actually don't believe in such a thing as ordinary. Every person has a brilliance unique to him or herself... something amazing that no one else has in the same way. A little bit of love is the only thing needed to transfer "normal" into extraordinary.
How do so many married couples lose their sparkle, like candles burned down into committed ash? Why would life after the "I do" degenerate? Call me idealistic, unrealistic, naive -- and maybe I am -- but I think each day would be a beautiful opportunity to learn more about my spouse. And who wouldn't wake up smiling, validated by unconditional love? So I am growing more bohemian every day... I kind of think Jesus was a bohemian.
Maybe the problem in part is when people marry according to Things Held In Common. You can find commonalities with any living thing on the planet -- the queen of England, Jose down the street, the nearest amoeba -- but the long shelf-life comes with speaking the same language. Wait... what do I know? Maybe I should wait to have opinions on functional relationships, say, until I'm actually in one.
I have been out of bed only 3 hours today, and those were spent "lying" on our smallish couch. Utter unproductivity is crowding the airwaves... I hate being sick. It makes me feel like a blot upon the earth, a hindrance to the wellbeing of mankind, a disgrace to intelligent society. I sometimes wish I could be admitted to the hospital, just so I wouldn't feel so guilty for not being Superwoman.
Three-methuselajillion things to be done, pounding head hopefully still attached, when all I want to do is curl up with someone and just be.....
My words, plagiarized before their conception by Over the Rhine:

"And if you need my attention,
Be bizarre,
Feel free to ignore convention,
It's alright,
And if it's a matter of permission,
You can do me harm --
I wouldn't miss it for the world.
And if you call my name,
Call it again,
My mind's been known to wonder,
Call it again,
You know I've been waiting for this
Since God knows when --
I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Labels: Yore

:: Bethany Bassett - 6:29 PM :: + ::