Tonight, we went to the bookstore and sat on the fringes of the café area. Laurie was absorbed in his stack of books, and I was absorbed with keeping warm, slipping my bare legs between his. The lighting and atmosphere were perfect, and they had a little ensemble playing that sort of light jazzy style that I enjoy so much. Regular café music.

When it was time to go, we stepped into the warm, full summer night, dancing closely together under Borders’ amber lights. I love the feeling of him against me, of us swaying together to his count. We went for a “moonlit stroll”-- minus the moon-- and he lifted me up, and I have never felt so safe and loved than in his arms. A lady stopped to say that we were “sweet”, and I smiled-- I like thinking that people can see how much we love each other, how much we glow.

I think I'm sort of a list fanatic. I really do love them; they keep track of things and organize and remind you of important to do's. I think my mind even works with the number of lists I have, categorizing various items into ASAP, Groceries, and Far Into The Future [FITT]. I need an application that will love my lists as much as I do.

Dear Huyck,

It's been a while since you first posed the question, and I've been mulling it over while daily life hustles on. This is a fraction of a suitable answer:

I love Laurie because he makes me feel like I'm at home. I know that's a cliche, but there's something comforting about being able to be completely comfortable with a person, right? Actually, it's more than comforting-- It's probably one of the most valuable things you'll ever find. You know that we're such a fake society; we put on our whitened smiles and hide our disdain and teach our children good manners. I feel like that disappears when I'm with Laurie; we have our own structure and sense of things. Completely real. I can talk, laugh, breathe around him-- it's almost like being with another one of yourself.

In fact, I think I do love Laur because in some ways, he is a reflection of myself and things that I admire. I love that he is brutally honest, uninterested in what people think about him, and fearless. And he likes to laugh, likes to do things, likes to sing and dance with me... We're like mixes of each other, shades of the same color-- he is the bolder and I am the pastel.

I think love requires a lot of ingredients. It takes a certain admiration for the person, a certain willingness to let yourself be vulnerable, a capacity for indulgence, tenderness, violence, friendship... I know that there are times when he's next to me, and it just feels so /right/, for lack of a better word. His hand around mine, the way we fit together, and even the way we walk together. I'm almost afraid to say that I KNOW that he's the only one I'll ever have or want because if I did say it and it wasn't true, I'd never believe in true love again.

Again, this is only a sliver of the depths I could write about. I used to think that words could encompass everything-- I never knew why everyone said that love was indescribable. Any now, closing my eyes and touching that infinite amount of love I have for Laurie, I realize that words could never really grasp that. It's such a tender, sweet, almost unbearably light emotion... and yet so comfortingly heavy... Like a good chocolate.

Man, I've compared love to everything I enjoy-- sweets, art, and good food. That's all I have! I want to read your reply. :)

Hearts,
me

PS. Oh yes, and I can't bear being without him. It's like being without a daemon, if you've ever read Philip Pullman. Like something deep in you is being stretched to a breaking point and will snap if you don't hurry back to its side.

FOUR.OH TERM AVERAGE!!! YESSS.
If I weren't so tired from leading OLs and future fresh all day, I'd be more celebratory. As it were, my heart gives a little leap of ba-bump. :)

Finals are done. They were somewhat easy this year-- knock on wood. It seems unfair that professors give all these exams and then take forever to grade them. Don't they know the ungodly amount of time, tears, and desperate effort poured into those scantrons and blue books?

This year, I applied to the CLASP internship only to be told by Mum that Qi Zhi had a job for me...only to be told that the offer was revoked, leaving me jobless for the summer. Another bout of desperation. But, you know, I sort of wanted this-- I like lazy summers. On the other hand, I hate feeling useless. And I want money. Maybe I should also take classes.

Today, we read Lacan's "The Mirror Stage", and I realized that I've learned a lot in college, things that I'll want to remember. Like Atwood's invariant organizing principle, a life theme. Like McClure's entire, riveting view on the meaning of literature and how to look at it.

The mirror stage is a theory on self. About chasing after one's narcissistic "ego-ideal", but never really attaining it because of the glass-- you are yourself and in some ways, another. How you project yourself onto other people and fall into a pattern of misrecognition. I like it.

I've missed him so much these past days, and for the last two nights, I've been listening to his Christmas present. He recorded himself singing our favorite songs; I lay there with my eyes closed, imagining his arms around me and his soft voice in my ear. He makes me ache with such deep love and longing.

I remember when he first gave me the little disks-- we lay on the bed listening to him sing, and he smiled at me. True, profound love.

So in the past few weeks, days, year: I've realized that I really center my whole being around Laurie. I'm not joking with the "he's my sunshine" analogy. You know how they say that Capricorns find their passion, and they pursue it with envious diligence? Well, I found him! He's gone to BJJ [Braz. Jujitsu] and OH GOD, I can't find ANYTHING to do. It just makes me want to scream:

GET A LIFE, MOLLY. GET. A. LIFE.

And it's also sad how empty my life is without mario party.

Whenever these two options are exhausted, I take to cleaning. They say that people who are grieving, who are lost, who are DEVASTATED-- they take to cleaning. I don't complain or anything, because it's led to a few miraculous discoveries like leaning my dresser against the bed. Which is something I'm too ridiculously happy about because it gives my glasses somewhere to sit. Oh yea, and keeping water bottles and tissues near. Awesoomeee. Cleaning also led to the discovery on HOW TO KEEP ONES BED FROM SQUEAKING. Aka, quietsex.

Holla at that.

I have this scab on the bottom of my nose that I keep ripping off. I nearly screamed last night when I did it. I dream-screamed.

I need to find headbands that don't me look like I'm five. Short hair is hard! Why don't they tell you this?

Ok, now I have to go think of things to do for Laur-bunny again.

Over the past days, I've gotten a haircut and made bears.

( happy v-day from the bear family! )

I feel more flustered this year, because most of my courses have become more abstract, and I find myself almost missing the rigor and concise nature of, for example, organic chem. Whatever artsy side of me there is, it definitely needs a counter balance.

But most of all, the semester started off well! We've been going to the gym regularly, and we're also going to take yoga and ballroom dancing, which I'm excited about. I wish I could say that we have such a wonderful schedule of studying and sleeping, but maybe we'll get there.

I've been reading "You Are Not a Stranger Here" by Haslett, and it makes me feel awkward. It's a collection of short stories, and I have rather high expectations of short stories. I expect them to give me a feeling of epiphany mingled with terror or shock. I go through this collection with that expectation, and somehow it fills them by letting me down a bit. There's nothing abnormal, per se, about them. And the stories end so abruptly... I sort of like this anticipation and wondering.

Today has been a good day. I've been playing Kingdom Hearts lately, and I defeated two big bosses today! Also, I think I've finally decided on what to pursue in life, and my dean and I had a pleasant email conversation about that where she decided that it was feasible. :)

Yesterday, I heard one of the most refreshing conversations. It went something like this.

G1: What shirt are you wearing?
G2: A blue one! I'm wearing an Abercrombie shirt! [smug]
G1: What's Abercrombie?
G2: YOU DON'T KNOW ABERCROMBIE?
G1: Oh! Is it that band?

Over the past few weeks, my left eye has become inflamed, my left nostril swollen, and my left wisdom tooth throbby and sad. Ow ow ow. OW.

If the left side would like to abandon ship, please do so immediately.

It seems that this year, the boys are more on the hunt than ever. My girls are being asked out left and right! It's nice.

This morning, my alarm rings and Laurie croons, "Beautiful...!" in his sleep. How does anyone manage to fall so hard like this?

My little turtle has gone still and soft and quiet. Laurie told me last night, murmuring how Karebear called that morning, and promptly folded me into his arms.

It's not like he wasn't sick. But the thought of DEATH, physically, tangibly, was all but impossible for Nietzsche. My turtle would always trample his brother underfoot for the first bite of food. He ate with a passion and zest that could only be compared to the way I devour pasta. In the sunlight, his green body would wiggle back and forth in his tank ecstatically. And now he's so still.

A year with this devious little fellow... His death fills me with a nauseating guilt-- I should've changed his water more frequently. I should have fed him a little bit of chicken. I was not a good mother to him, and I can only hope his little soul is happier in a turtle eden.

So farewell to Nietzsche, my faithful fighter, a turtle of admirable courage and neverending spirit. I'll miss you.

I finished the book today. It was the only book that I have ever put down in misery and a nauseous sadness. A rainy day, reverberating with Small tragedies, muggy with thick air that brought Ayemenem into my H bus and left me cold.