So I’ve moved on from long afternoons in an office to one long afternoon a week in a classroom (starting a class at 3 pm turns out to be the worst time of day for me to take a class… lesson learned!).

Good news is, there are computers! And I got to catch up on a few of my old favorite blogs and found some fun stuff! Like this exchange of emails between two strangers, who over a period of just a few weeks fall in love… through email (and phone calls). These were some of my favorite bits. Some parts even made me tear up…

can your next tale be about why you run?
where do you go, what do you see?
is it better with long hair? short hair? no hair?
do you run when it rains warm east coast rain?
are you running from, or to?
what part of your body thanks you first, and what part second?
have you ever woken up in the middle of a dream and had to run?

I’d invent a flower that smelled just like you
plant it in a secret meadow
and visit it whenever you were away

can’t talk, nakey tanning

I can’t believe we haven’t been together
I haven’t even seen you move
I don’t know what it looks like
when your grin grows to a smile
or your eyebrows furrow in frustration
what it looks like when you yawn
or crack your knuckles
or roll your eyes
at people who crack their knuckles

up until the recent past, I’d say less than a year, I had something else on the list, something that should be embarrassing to admit, though I don’t embarrass easily. I needed her to be a flawed individual. need her to be fixed. to be saved. helped. rescued. pick one. I needed her to have something in her life that was holding her back from filthy wild success, and I needed to be the solution/key to that something. this I suppose is tied to my need for her to be a survivor, a source of strength, and which I suppose is where prof. freud sticks his silly schnoz in the door.

my mom is a survivor. and a source of strength, a major biggie on the list. but that wasn’t always the case. when a was a wee boy things were much different. she was in and out of various lockups, half-way houses, rehab programs, the works. the cause: undiagnosed bi-polar disorder, self-medicating with alcohol, without the tools to crawl out of it on her own. and until very recently, in fact to one extent or another in all of my serious relationships, I guess I needed to be able to fix that for someone. maybe because I couldn’t fix it for her? who knows. one of my favoritest people in the whole wide world, she’s really more a sister now, I probably would have pursued her had she met this fucked up criteria. smart. beautiful. but nothing to fix. so glad I didn’t. so glad I didn’t.

you. you scare the shit out of me. your wholeness scares the shit out of me. nothing to fix, which isn’t to say you aren’t human or flawed. but had I never fallen clumsily into your lap, your life would have been just dandy. sure, horridly incomplete, tragically incomplete, totally joshless, but there would have been no crash and burn. you’re smart, and you’re beautiful, driven and successful. so much more so than I. and you’ll get there all on your own steam. no need for a savior. nothing for the handyman to do. but maybe room for a partner?

I don’t think it’s an accident that we are where we are. had you stomped into my life a year ago I wouldn’t have been ready for you. would have recognized your amazingness but not been attracted to it. but now I want you. I want all of you. even the parts that frighten and intimidate me. especially those parts. and crazy as it sounds, I can’t imagine ever not wanting you.

you’re an amazing woman. and that’s a happy saturday secret.

(found via swissmiss)