I don't mind spending all my money on books.

Oh boy

I knew it was bad and misleading to keep pretending maybe he'd fly up.

then i hallucinated that i saw him.

girl's gotta got to bed.

Tardy

I waited way too long to write up this thought.
The person who taught me this has gone ahead and left my life...

I hate the fact that I can take away a life lesson from him, but not take him, too.

I had all these provisions that I was so sure had to be filled by Mr. Wonderful.
He needed to be a cowboy. Because cowboys know how to do EVERYTHING. and they smell like leather, and they're rough, and strong and brave.

You understand.

Turns out, a guy doesn't need to be a cowboy in order to be strong and brave and wonderful.

I've learned that I often won't be able to put people in these little provisional boxes. I need to analyze their qualities one by one, and break down my own expectations further, additionally. Everyone is so dynamic, fearfully and wonderfully made.

I'll love his soul, more than anything anyway. That's what it's really about.

Though I do love horses.

Humility

I drove a '97 Jeep Grand Cherokee for my first 3 years as a licensed driver. (Yes, licensed is a key word there.) That thing had rust...dust...cobwebs and mice living in it, and it was absolutely wonderful. Never broke down (to the point I couldn't fix...or duct tape), never got in an accident, just loudly rolled around on the road for 3 glorious years.

That thing kept me humble. I now drive a BMW, but let me tell you, I needed those three years. You think your hot shit right out of driving school.

I've been working hard to try and relate this to something with the correct level of irony. Rubber band? Operant Conditioning? Here's my poor attempt:

I feel as though I've been climbing through a reasonably untrodden path in the forest of my life (we can hypothetically call that path....Love. Hypothetically, of course). A while back I was similarly climbing, and I held a branch out of my face, but it slipped, and smacked me in the face. Ouch, not cool. Next time, whats up, ya learn. Ya hold the branch a little tighter, grab it with a little more force and purpose, if you so dare to test it's own strength after all.

Who gets smacked a second time but me? Of course?

The only possible way of chalking any of this up to anything is that, hey. Sometimes we need a good smack. Keeps us humble.

Usually

As per my usual, I have a long list of things I should be doing that fall much higher on the priority level than blogging. But, it's a form of exhaust for my brain and it's capacity, so I claim this as a necessary step before delving into my tasks for the evening.

Most parents, love their children dearly. Big events like scoring a goal, graduating school, landing a big job, tend to evoke a sense of pride that they often audibly share with their children. Wonderful.

There's another angle that pride should come through, that for me so far, it has not. I'm busy and crazy and over achieving, and somehow, in expressing this to any friends or romances, there's a sense of jealousy, competition or otherwise. Never pride. Never appreciation or admiration.

My most recent romance, one that I like very much actually, recently listened with wide open ears as I shared of my plans for the day, which, let's be real, were ridiculous. There are never enough hours in the day. He replied with "I am so proud of you".

Floored.

Fall over the your chair.

Really?

Yeah. Simple and honest, and somehow more meaningful than most other things anyone could have said. Knowing someone is "proud of you" evokes a much different inner feeling that knowing someone "loves you" or knowing someone "cares about you" or "thinks of you". They take pride in knowing you, in calling you theirs.

I like that, someone takes pride in knowing I'm theirs.