wcd3

COVID-19 and quarantine life have caused many unexpected delights. Penguins in museums. Long-distance zoom attendance of faraway friends at nearby events. Neighbors singing to one another on balconies.

One of these delights is my friendship with E&E. We got put on the same work schedule, commiserated and worried and laughed about the ridiculousness of working through a pandemic, and started a group chat (“Golden Gears” copyright pending) of epic proportions to continue to do more of the same.

Things I appreciate about the Golden Gears:

  • E&E consistently make me guffaw — whether it’s wry observations about coworkers or the aptly placed Office gif, these people are always making me crack up with stories I retell Mark and that make him fall in like with them, too. “Ayyy Marco!!”
  • Our hangouts are warm and loud and lingery, staying well beyond the confines of the mealtime we started with. I love that being in each other’s quarantine circles has made us open up our homes to each other a lot faster than we might have, as coworker-friends in the Before COVID times, when we probably would have started with those cramped happy hours that are sometimes more tiring than reinvigorating. House hangs ftw.
  • We’re good at being generous with each other. With our time during those long lingering hangouts, with the stories we intentionally ask one another to share, with encouragement and support from the other two when one of us is feeling short or uncertain of the tasks ahead of us. Alone, we’re doubters, but together, we’re each other’s biggest cheering squad and admirers, full of righteous confidence for the third in turns.
  • Even more than the randomly assigned work schedule in the midst of a pandemic, our lil coterie was born of a common desire to push each other to pursue our dreams and things. To not forget about the next Big Steps we’ve been thinking non-concretely about. To be there for each other in the midst of big adulting moments, as we purchased houses and dreamt of moving to Japan.

We had been watching and wanting to be friends with each other from afar, so I’m so thankful for these unexpected and pleasant repercussions of the global pandemic that slowed us down enough, made us pause enough, opened us up enough to become real live friends in this Young Professional era, where it feels like we’re too old for the instant heart and mind connections of ye olde college days and too young for the life-stage ones, where your kids or your dogs bring you new friends you secretly judge and begrudge on bad days.

Love yawl, E&E. Would marry the heck out of yawl if we were so inclined.

wcd1

Writing challenge day 1.

Yesterday was one of the busiest quaran-socialization days I’ve had.

Rebecca is in town after a scheduling mishap with her hospital rotations for school and I’m off work for the week, so the FDFers got together for a morning stroll at the randomest little patch of green that is the Fairfax County government building grounds. It’s been six years since our college graduation, and one of us is mom to a human baby now, but our conversations hold a comforting, familiar cadence of longevity and trust. We wore masks and sat awkwardly not facing each other, glad for the breeze under those trees.

I had just gone through a phone photo purge, smiling at all those other, seemingly random times we had met in various spots around nova, eating great and mediocre foods and laughing at and with each other. Comforted by that reminder of the continuation of our friendship by repetition.

Apparently females have a higher threshold for how many times they must meet each other before considering a relationship a “friendship.” True to form, I have forgotten that number (seven?) and have also forgotten the comparison figure (as in, what the number of times is for male friendships, which is supposedly lower), but either way, our little trio’s number of post-college hangouts must have exceeded that number for me because I was feeling secure and cozy in the bubble of that familiar relationship. Be gone, friendship angst!!

Then I rushed home for virtual tutoring sesh with Izumi, after which Maddie arrived for a backyard hang under our awning. We ate so many chips and drank beers and talked about our anxieties and lack thereofs. Another college friendship that’s been kept alive by nothing but our mutual desire to see each other. After our first year of roommatehood, I feel like really everything was working against us in the continuation of our friendship — no mutual friends, no overlapping social activities, no classes in common, and after graduation, she moved to Guatemala (and then, “back” to a farm in like, way far Maryland). We kept communication alive by the poems we’d send to each other’s inboxes.

So a little different from the repetition of the FDF meetups, which are usually prompted by the return of Rebecca from school in North Carolina. But even though this means our meetups are less frequent (maybe?), they’re a little less dictated by a scholastic calendar than our pure desire to see each other again, even despite the 45 minutes of driving between us.

But there are commonalities in all different friendships that are special in my life. The being-able-to-talk-about-anything-ness. The comfort-in-sharing-ness. The of-course-I’m-there-for-you-ness. The explicitly-please-speak-into-my-life-permission…ness.

If I were good at Microsoft Excel, I would almost be tempted to make a visualization of some sort to chart the progress of my enduring friendships. Physical distance. Time known. Quality of friendship. Frequency of meetup. Perceived mutuality. What are the features of the enduring ones, and how do I encourage more, of higher quality? But alas, Excel is my special weakness.

2020, age 29, and still thinking about friendships.

Shoutout to Madpad for encouraging — reminding — me to think about writing again, to spark that brain alive.

thoughts about friendship that went nowhere

Two recent topics of pondering:

1. I do not want to make any more friends.

Everyone who’s been adulting for even a little while knows that making new friends is hard and only gets progressively harder the further you get from the connection-inducing system that is organized education. But I think I’ve been realizing that making friends, for me, has been harder because…I don’t…really…want to make any…additional…new…friends. *gasp*

As much as I complain about the lack of all of the following things, it isn’t truly for the lack of time, or energy, or patience to drive my car any more than I absolutely have to in this world (as in, my actual commute). It certainly isn’t for the lack of good people I admire and enjoy from afar, physically and emotionally.

I dunno what it is about girls who say “I love you” to their girlfriends so easily and casually, but even among my closest relationships, I am quite shy with my confessions of such depth (height?). And there’s been a recent surge among the population of my regular social rotations who deliver this l-word proclamation after every dinner, every happy hour, that makes me wonder why I feel so reluctant to respond in kind. Like I said, it isn’t for lack of time (cause there I already am, dining and wining with them), and it isn’t for lack of worthy recipients. I believe these feelings are genuine and true.

It makes me wonder if, at the ripe old age of 28 — or, depending on when the liminal state was actually reached, perhaps even younger — I’ve finished making my intended set of meaningful relationships. Like, there was a quota set at the beginning and I’ve filled it, and the rest to come will only fill the nooks and crannies like sand, or perhaps for limited seasons. No more tickets left for the full-access, backstage-pass experience to the inner layers of ladisonmee. Maybe marriage is what did it, cause I feel very sufficiently shared with and known by another bean. It’s not that there’s a dearth of experiences, but rather a dearth of ability to respond appropriately to the experiences.

2. And yet, I believe firmly that we are to live in community.

So what happens if you’ve made all the friends you feel like you’re supposed to have made, and they happen to live in Centreville and also your husband wants to live in Japan? What if friendships you’ve made and cherished have changed or extinguished and no longer actually fill the space in your heart and life the way live friendships do? What if you’ve changed and your life stage has changed and you’re in need of new friends who will walk in that new stage with you, but when you encounter some potential beans, your heart is too weary to open itself up to engage fully and deeply. And you only scratch the surface, of taking pregnancy walks on your lunch breaks or like, maternity Zumba together. Is that a thing? I don’t know. I’m not pregnant, promise.

 

Yeah. I think I’m overthinking this one; I think what this is is my continuing battle against the comfortably numbing slide into Getting Old. But to be fair, I warned you in my title. And okay, if we’re breaking the fourth wall, I totally did catfish you with that first line cause these weren’t actually two separate thoughts, but by the time I got to number two, I had expounded for too long about number one and the second one I actually had in mind was too random and short in comparison¬†(it was about leadership and the division of the self into work and home and ministry…which, okay, that’s also two different things).

Sorry for the catfishing. Sorry for delivering on the title. But it’s Sunday evening and it’s gettin past this old lady’s bedtime. ūüėī

the people we food with

The February photodump ‚ÄĒ cam to hard drive ‚ÄĒ has unearthed a lot of moments of food and people we love. And a glance back through the blog archives reveals that the one post from Feb 2017 is something of a ‚Äúfood and folks‚ÄĚ post, too.

Guess February is the month of good food and good company.

We‚Äôre in a real groove of normalcy now ‚ÄĒ there are people we meet up with, month after month. People we make plans with at the end of each meet up, everyone scrounging through our phones for another weekend that‚Äôll work, in a few weeks‚Äô time. We make plans, commit to see each other soon, bring/find food, and eat together for the sake of catching up together.

I’m grateful for these grooves.

I always used to pride myself a lil bit on the fact that my closest friendships were based not on the frequency ‚ÄĒ or even the overall quantity ‚ÄĒ of time spent togetherly. ‚ÄúQuality over quantity,‚ÄĚ I‚Äôd say, my metaphorical nose in the air.

But these days, I‚Äôm yearning for the regularity of an oft-seen face. Or two or three or five. Now my calendar is full of people I‚Äôve seen ‚Äújust a month ago,‚ÄĚ which sometimes still doesn‚Äôt feel like enough. I want normal-life, humdrum conversations, about work and commutes and recipes we‚Äôve tried ‚ÄĒ sprinkled in with vast contemplations about life, too, duh.

The important thing ‚ÄĒ and the thing that makes me a more grown up person now than when I was in college, with my nose in the air ‚ÄĒ is to recognize these seasons of life as such, and appreciate each for its own reasons.

College was a time of mad dashes through classes and clubs and homework AND friends. I was bombarded by life ‚ÄĒ in the best way, as college does ‚ÄĒ and thoughts and conversations and growth and friendships were happening all naturally (and also, somehow, so magically). In the wee hours in a dorm room. At the dining hall over breakfast. During afternoon nap/study sessions in the hush of¬†the library. And those quarterly mad catch-up sessions with the besties were enough, because that‚Äôs all my life had room for.

And that was good for then.

But now, days and evenings clock in and out with a cozy regularity that I can sometimes confuse with monotony. And life these days is filled with dinners that need cooking, plants that need watering, sleeps that need getting. I dunno what exactly it is that’s changed, but my heart, it yearns for friends who are close and near. Heart-wise and commute-wise.

How foolish of me to have turned my snooty little nose up at the beauty of relationships built over time and shared everydays.

How grateful I am now, to scroll through photos of familiar faces, month after faithful month ‚ÄĒ sharing food, sharing our time, sharing stories of the little things that have mattered to us in the past few weeks.

How grateful for these grooves.

(And, ahem, the photos.)

love and timing

  • How much is a love experience shaped by the trappings of life at that moment? The life stage you’re in. The hard/sad/awesome stuff you’re going through. The level of maturity your heart and head are at. People talk about connections — soul, heart, mind, spirit?, humor! — but just how much of all of that is about…timing? Different lovers you meet don’t necessarily result in different kinds of connections because of who they are, but because of who they are at that moment. And who you are at that moment. And how ya got there.
  • Is this why there is such a magic/aura/myth about first love? Because, in its most glorified form, first love takes place early on in your formation as a human — teen years, early 20s, young adulthood — though each of those, obviously, is different and beautiful and anguished in its own way. But all in all, those are magical times, even as just a singleton. Add the explosive reactants of loving and of being loved, and the reactions are that much more formative. Is it, too, about the new pathways your brain is forging in that first relationship? Is each following iteration a follow-on glide down the already formed pathway? So the first glide — or cut, depending on your perspective — is the deepest. Could we almost call it the first learn?
  • What about, then, effort and time? Relationships — romantic and otherwise — need time to bloom and to breathe. They require you to stop rushing about and to give them some attention and love. (Much like a garden, a pet, a catch-up dinner in the WMA.) To plan an actual evening away from duties and responsibilities, even if that requires planning to travel an extra three hours back and forth that day (for. real.). Cause it’s worth it to you. Maybe that, too, is a matter of the timing of your life. Relationship-building requires you to be the type of person ready to put in that kind of effort, and a person with some breathing room in your calendar to devote to the growth of a relationship blossom.

Sometimes I get stuck in Feeling ruts, trip-falling hard on a crag that makes me plunge SPLAT into an emotion puddle. I look up and get up, shake off and keep on walking, but soaked, drenched, in allll the feels. It takes me a whole evening-night of bleary-eyed blogging to dry off sometimes.

One big puddle tonight. And I’m bleary eyed and stubbornly sad indeed, and wondering about these age-old questions again again again, again.

chronicles of a recurring thought

April 24 – May 2:

  • Monday, April 24: Met up with¬†EnfJ at a Gainesville coffee place, rainy rainy afternoon. Talked about what’s been saddening and lacking and what my heart desires. Sadness. “Maybe we just haven’t evolved quickly enough for these suburbian lives!!”
  • Tuesday: Exhaustion and small group. Put on a brave face and talked a lot anyway.
  • Wednesday: Exhaustion and premarital counseling. Another good meeting, nevertheless.
  • Thursday: Exhaustion and worship team practice. Everyone seemed exhausted on this day, but the music was good.
  • Friday: Exhaustion and Netflix. A little less exhaustion, cause, Netflix. I worked extra hard this day because I wanted to forget¬†about the exhaustion and sadness for a little while.
  • Saturday:¬†HBC Ladies Tea Party. Ocha Tea with Sarah, (+Isaac, + Mark). Sadness, feeling too raw to share at the tea. Feeling too inarticulate to share with Sarah. Blab blab blah. “I, too, believe that God honors the desires of our hearts.” “God’s people are good.” “Maybe what you’re looking for is a best friend.” “It’s really not that far. I make the drive cause…it’s worth it to me, you know?”
  • Sunday:¬†Post-church lunch with G&E. And…exhaustion. Asking questions, answering questions, making an effort. [Wait… Is this what MM feels like all the time?]
  • Monday: Work and a little bit of grace in the lifting of the sadness. Sarah celebrated with me. Wrote a thank you card and a Mother’s Day card, sat quietly and did some Bible study, caught up on life admin things.¬†Recharged.¬†“As randomly as it set in… It has lifted.”¬†
  • Tuesday:¬†Small group and honesty. And vulnerability. And hope. Went in with a prayer for openness and totally got it. The sadness over the past week, seemingly random, wasn’t so random anymore but a little bit redeemed. “Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another.” Eph. 4:25

P.S. It’s so interesting to look through the pictures that accompany these days. They are brighter and happier than I remember feeling. Is it the photos that are off, or my memory, or a lil bit of both?

 

of time, of trees

Time is finite.

I am finite.

^Things I was re-reminded of, during a dinner with an acquaintance from high school, from college. Our paths didn’t cross much when back in those places, but she’s in town now for a new job and reached out to me…just cause.

Which is a nice thing, in and of itself, but I came out of the venture¬†feeling older and tired-er. She’s the introvert between us two, but I was the one who trudged back to my car with my people battery drained rather than recharged from our dinner together.

The caveats, they are many:

  • It didn’t help that we had had to reschedule the thing¬†more than twice, and that I was feeling put upon but not cared for (weird, self-pitying combo, I know).
  • Also didn’t help that she was LATE, after I had already had to kill time at work and at the mall. And that I get hangry, like a child.
  • Also also that I was cold cause I never check the weather and was inappropriately dressed for the day and the overly-air conditioned mall.
  • Yes; I, too, am seeing that this list is in decreasing order of her fault and increasing order of mine. So there are two sides here, obviously. And yet.

We sat down, facing each other across the cold plastic of the food court table and chatted about some things and nothings — just details about our lives, current and past. Remembering¬†how we had known each other, reconnecting¬†dusty pieces of puzzles¬†we both had moved on from, rehashing what it is we are¬†doing here in the nova area, all just for the sake of “catching up.”

But “catching up” implies a continuity that just isn’t there for us. (For me.) Especially after all my¬†minutes of mall-wandering and grumble-grumble¬†waiting, I just kept feeling like there wasn’t anything to build (or build upon) there between us.

And I think, at this point in life, I’m in need of some building-up of things. Bricks upon bricks to create real, useful, and hardy things,¬†like a house or maybe like a condo. Or like, a garden, or a porch.

A table?

[Sidenote: I’ve been a little obsessed with thinking vaguely about bricks since a little while ago.]

Don’t get me wrong; she is¬†doing everything admirably for her circumstance — being in a new place, making new connections, wanting to spend her time well. Planting lots of new seedlings, in expectation of green shoots everywhere and seeing how things grow. I know that feeling, and I value that desire. I recognized it because that was me, too, just a little while ago — endless seeker of newer and greener things.

It’s just that,¬†in observation of this, I recognized¬†a little shift in my heart, in¬†the¬†definition of what “time well spent” means, to me.

Right now, my heart desires to turn¬†and tend to¬†those things in my life that are already established and firm. A desire for maturity and solidity. For continuity.¬†Pause the¬†new ventures, please. Not cause new ventures are bad. Just cause, otherwise, I’m afraid that all I’ll end up with are a bunch of disjointed brick patches and table legs with no tops. Nothing to sit on, nothing to rest in. Just a bunch of windblown patches of blooms, here and there — no real harvest.

Time is finite, like I said. Time that I’ve got, even more so.

But I also sit in humble recognition of the fact that it took a cold, wind-blown, inwardly cranky dinner date with someone pursuing the opposite thing from me to see, and realize, all of that.

So yay for seedlings.

And yay for real, full-grown tables.

And for all the stages of tree in between.

adulting coupla steps ahead of me

I was feeling¬†people-weary and¬†in serious need of a nap after a few weeks of busyness. Even this meet-up had been delayed by weeks¬†(weeks!) of missed schedulings and¬†packed agendas, but Mary sought me out and¬†even treated me to a dinner —¬†work had run late and I was coming to 7¬†pm on an empty stomach.

The tiredness, combined with our shared — though light — history, made me especially honest and vulnerable with myself on this evening. I’ve known Mary for a long time now, though never closely. I munched and aired¬†all the struggly thoughts I’d been (not) working through, and she was patient and gracious to listen.

About friendships. About disappointment. About¬†feeling like I’m regressing socially, though society tells me I am progressing just fine (“wait, how do I make friends again?”).

About small talk and the dread of it on Sunday mornings.

About writing. And feeling like I was doing a lot, at the expense of thinking a lot. Cause it does feel like a zero-sum game. Time is limited; so am I. This is especially so for time belonging to me.

She¬†responded with wisdom that made me think that even this lil sandwich-and-tea meeting — such a small little blip in the¬†grand scheme of everyone, everywhere — had been preordained. Made me think that she’s been where I am and that she’s¬†stepped forward into betterness. Made me think: “There’s hope for me, too, then!”

She heard my woes about friendships and affirmed, yes, that the¬†conclusion shouldn’t be a deflated, disappointed one. There’s more to hope for there. We were made to live in community for a reason, and friendships are a huge part of that. Shifting, changing, sure, but not disappointing.

She agreed about the social regression and the small-talk dread and the limitedness of time and energy. And with her agreement, helped me feel not so alone, at least.

She said that she had asked herself all these questions, too. And interestingly, the progress was found in asking even more questions. Sneakily similar to the ones before, but really crucially different.

  • Instead of “what does it mean to be a good friend,” ask: “what can I do differently to be a better friend?”
  • Instead of “when will I finally feel comfortable and belong-y here,” ask: “how can I better serve the people of my community and love them first?”
  • Instead of “why must I make so much small talk in life,” remember: “small talk is the juice and the glue of the every-day Wednesdays.”

It’s all about slight shifts in¬†perspective. I hadn’t been all that off track. The tiniest pivot will catch different glimpses of light, display different hues, make different shapes.

Thank you, Mary unni. Yeah, it¬†feels right to call you “unni” at the end of this¬†dinner and this post.

IMG_2080

more thoughts about friendship

 

“yeah, you go deep all quick and stuff, but¬†it’s not really the same as getting to know someone over time and having the opportunity for them to disappoint you.”

maybe 2-3 years is the sweet time, the honeymoon phase, of a friendship. [sidenote: did you know that “honeymoon” in Spanish is, quite literally, “luna de miel”?¬†being a nonnative (read: noob) speaker of a language has these perks, of your ears perking up at the sounds and literal meanings of words — of your mind immediately envisioning a full, yellow moon of comb, dripping with honey at the sound of “luna de miel” that “honeymoon” simply does not conjure up because you’ve become desensitized¬†to the cuteness of that word, in¬†its naked self, stripped of all its contextual trappings. if I were talented at illustrating, at this moment, I would try to draw a naked-in-a-cute-way WORD. someone do this for me.]

and after this period, chara said, you start to come to a period of conflict. 

-because you start getting to know a person better, in all their good sides and their bad ones?- I proffered.

well yes, that, but what I wanted to say was that after this period, you come to a place where you have certain expectations of a friendship of [however many]¬†years and so does that other person. and¬†more often than not, these expectations will not match up perfectly. at least that’s what I can deduce the reason to be; that’s the overarching umbrella reason for conflict in my long-term friendships: mismatched expectations. do you know about the [example of just this thing] of second year?

-this…makes sense. buhcause, [offers example of just this thing] that happened my first year!

-and, and, and I wonder if all relationships are like this. but other kinds of relationships have more¬†rules decided by society on how they “should” sorta be. take romantic relationships, for example. society, more or less, dictates certain¬†expectations for a romantic relationship. like, an average healthy, happy couple should probably talk to each other [some range of] times per week. and you should probably see each other [some range of] times per week, or per month, or whatever. and for anniversaries, you should probably do [whatever kind of thing] to celebrate. you know? like, there are certain EXPECTATIONS for a romantic relationship, predetermined, that are just not so for friendships. expectations for friendships¬†can be wildly varying, and that’s where the trouble comes in, because you’re not really sure where that person could be coming from, in terms of what they are expecting from this friendship with you. people love and feel loved in different ways. people are and inspire different kinds of thoughts and feelings that makes this whole thing of RELATINGships really very complicated.¬†it’s like a beautiful thing, too, though, that it’s this freeform, freewilly kind of substance, malleable and putty-like in your collective four hands (or six or eight or seven).

yeah! exactly. basically, I think it’s inevitable that you’re going to disappoint and be disappointed by these mismatched expectations.¬†

-but see? I haven’t really. it’s only been the peachy, moon-of-honey years of friendships (mmm peach + honey) that I’ve lived.¬†I feel sort of stunted in this. but also…glad that I get to learn this in theory before¬†mucking it completely up in practice. I feel much better equipped for this.

what you have to do is decide that a relationship with that person is worth pushing through that disappointment and make it work. there are gonna be sad moments; there are different kinds of friends for different portions of you and portions of your life. and that’s okay.¬†

-friendship is hard!! what the heck.

just a few things, I promise.

Things I am elated about:

  • I have just eaten 2 brownies. These are wonderful brownies that are fudgy and textured, the second of which is maybe my number-two favorite feature¬†about foods. maybe 1.5th-favorite. Seestre and I made them this past weekend with rye flour and she was mean to me because she thinks I’m bad at everything in the kitchen but that’s not true. But…it’s okay. Second-brownie-wind, huzzah!
  • I have decided to forego SHOWERING because I didn’t run today and this is such a rarity. Go dry shampoo, go dry shampoo.
  • I like reading my own blog a lot a lot. Like, I’m encouraged by the nuggets I discover here, after having written them and instantly forgotten about them. It’s just a relief to see that I’m still thinking things worthy of writing and reading — at least on here.¬†Like, hey…I’m still thinking some good thinks! I like ’em. Good job, self.
  • Staying at work late feels good in a very¬†productive scratching of the itch way. There’s something magic about those last couple hours where people are filing out of the¬†office and everything gets q u i e t and I somehow read WAY faster than I can during the height of the day.
  • SG was stupendous today. God is working. Here is home.

Things I am concerned about:

  • Now that I have this journal¬†section of blawg, what do I deem to be postworthy and what do I cast into pageland? (Posts go on the main page; Pages under the tabs. Posts get noticed by blog feeds; Pages slip under that radar like sneaky spies. Posts are where I journal my rambly pieces of unfinished thoughts; Pages contain more finished works. Oh wait, the other way around for that last one.)
  • Googling manic-depressive disorder.
  • I like reading my¬†own blog a lot a lot. Like, see bullet number 3 above, but I mean, then again — see also the previous sentence. It’s maybe the most self-concerned and self-indulgent thing I could think of, in the world, except maybe vlogging and then watching said vlogs in great self-admiration. Although…I dunno. Maybe these are pretty similar and I shouldn’t even be so high-and-mighty-horsey with even this comparison.
  • So there was one red top¬†and yet another — God, can I ask for another? Just one more, for third-time’s-the-charm’s measure? Specific, this time. And if you say to, I’ll do it on the spot.

Things I’ve been thinking about:

  • Who are my friends? Today, I counted like two people I would say I see/hang out with regularly and outside of church/work functions with some acceptable frequency and then added roommate and boyfriend to make a list of four. And then spent the next two walks to the bathroom being like, oh wait, there are two more. So a grand total of six. And then I tried to finagle seestre onto that list but I really can’t count her because of criteria 1 and 2: see regularly, see frequently. But then, when you put it that way, Madison, it sort of seems like your criteria might be off. Is that really how you would define friendship?
  • Why do I feel so sad after hanging out with certain friends? What is this wall-feeling? Am I not being honest with them? What am I so scared of? Have I been hurt? Did I forget?
  • I am very naked right now. I mean figuratively.

People I’ve been thinking about:

  • Potential accountability partners/mentors: Who could this be?
    • A: You are the coolest. You say the wisest, most mind-blowing things in sg and it always really blows me away, the depth of your life experiences and thought sharings. I just think there would be a lot to learn from you, and I think¬†there’s enough distance between us in terms of life stages that you would have a lot of wise counsel to offer me. But I fear that you might be too deeply entrenched in the experiences of your own life — just really busy, just really intense — that I would be infringing too much on all of that.
    • H: You know your Bible stuff. You are kind. But sometimes you look at me with these probing eyes that make me feel really¬†judged in a really¬†bad way, though I know that is not your intention! It’s hard to unfeel it and I¬†clam up and get shifty-eyed in response to all this. But you are kind and solid and trusting and trustworthy. And there’s definitely a special corner of my heart for you.
  • People I¬†no longer want to marry:
    • M.
    • C.
  • m, as always. every day.
    • [My] feelings really are so undependable. One minute I’m vowing the end, and the next I’m reading journal pages in a flurry and feeling reaffirmed because¬†I REMEMBER. sidenote: woah, even in human relationships this is true. oh yeah. of course. this is circularularularular. like, in this moment, I feel like all the first¬†half of this¬†is so defeatable. like all these reasons to stay seem flat and too-eagerly-self-explainy in comparison to the feelings that my heart holds in this moment. Like, they’re way not enough, that listuf things; they don’t even scratch the surface of why I actually want to here. And in these moments of certainty and¬†gingerly making plans of future us, it all feels so right and good.
    • You call me in the middle of a crazy text flurry because you’re good at being there for me (though maybe neither of us knows what we’re really in for). You are bighearted and caring, albeit a little slow. And you have good thoughts in the shower and on long drives — inexplicably, they come. You know my failings, you’ve seen some of my worst moments. You still like¬†me. I miss you, even if I don’t admit it.
    • You are a way better human than I am. We joke about your brokenness and all, I know, but I am way, way more selfish than you are. Or at least you have this magic kind of love that makes it a bit easier for you show love to¬†me despite me. But then again, no, because you’re more generous and kindhearted to people who are not me, also.
    • yeah, I can’t wait to see you again.

Brownie power, wearing of.f..f….. .zoop.

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Snapchat speaks to my heart once again.