It’s amazing how a year in a life can affect one person. The ups, the downs, the sideways, and the asymmetrical gyrations can leave one feeling rather topsy turvy not knowing in which direction to throw up. Compress that entire year into one single solitary instance where the big bang was starting to feel the turtlehead pop out of its ass and you’ll only begin to tread on how amazing that one year in a life can actually feel.
But then again you’ve lived that one year…and the one year before that, so really you should be on par with me. Unless of course, you’ve been gladly ignoring your feelings, yourself, your family, your work, and your increasing need to neglect everyone and everything around you–if this *IS* the case then you need help. For any of this to make sense I’ll just assume that you’re not the later…
Some of you may have noticed my lack of blog over the past 6 months, and if you are one of them then that’s probably a sad indication of your need within your own life…you couldn’t possibly enjoy these silly stupid, and nonesensical rants that I’ve been leaving…or can you?
I took somewhat of a hiatus–not because of lack of things about which I could write–because of a certain impersonability and detachment that I have shared with you, the reader. So I shed my old ways and try to get to the point of the matter without beating my meat for far too long. I am suddenly struck with an effervesent happiness that’s cooler than cool.
My live in girlfriend is (figuratively) exactly as she is written: one who lives in the apartment with me, shares a life with me, and a great powerful love. On a single blank page the words MY LIVE IN GIRLFRIEND are meaningless, and were I to let you know her you might be taken with her as I am…unfortunately for you I WILL NOT SHARE much about her…except that she is my girlfriend, my partner, and my mate.
She is real and brings calm sensible reality to my world, and most certainly she is a person worthy of much cherishing, much love, and much committment…
Yes I said it, and I meant it.
Having not blogged over time has given me grounds to read over the writing on the inside of my eyelids, the opportunity to pretend to have near death experiences in a jacuzzi, and sell my sports car, and become more responsible, committed, and devoted, to her–My girlfriend, the one whom *I* live with: J.
Ah, but that is all you get from me, for I dare not share more than the letter J. Could you imagine what would happen if I shared more? No. I suppose you couldn’t; a shame your wandering mind and eye can’t begin to fathom what I meant to say…or perhaps it’s just a shame I couldn’t write it. I really mean that privacy wins in the privacy vs. paparazzi debate in this case. Oh sure. I’m famous…
This is the time that has elapsed between my meeting J. and her absolutely transforming my life, pointing me in the safe and sound directions of purpose, insight, and self fulfilment. The self loathing, the self hatred, the self involvment, and sense of self righteousness, I once felt have all melted away leaving a truely new and vulnerable me.
Why? Because of J…because of our interactions, and because I’ve learned, and now I strive to be a better me, chip of the jagged edges of the me that was pulled from the casting die. Yes. A better me.
And what does this all really mean to you? Nothing. I and my life are but blips in the history of the human kind. I now know that I am to have a legacy, or at the very least the progeny I see in her eyes.
Sports car gone.
In my pocket,
I am truly happy for the first time in my life.
She is deserving of a much better respect feeling, and representation than I have previously given. To eat my laid down writing is a compromise the size of eating the universe, so I release these electrons to assure–YOU–the reader that it won’t happen again.
The path of destiny is now illuminated by the glow of her heart.
With all love, and sincerity, J.