The Extraordinary

Everyone knows I'm not afraid to publicly discuss my life on this blog o' mine, at least to some generic extent. Everyone knows I try to say, if I can help it, just what I think, feel, don't feel, feel TOO MUCH, etc. However, this blog has shielded one section of my life a little because it's the section of my life I hold most dear, most private, most beloved. I mention my relationship from time to time because it's a HUGE part of my life, but you're not going to hear, say, what we ate for and talked about at breakfast this morning or what new life moment we experienced hand-in-hand last week. Sure, I let some details out here and there because I'm proud of who I'm with and what we've done, but all those details and intimate moments? That stuff is for us. That stuff is supposed to be just for us. That's the beauty of choosing to be with one person in a world of monogamist nay-sayers, conquering them and the world in general with your silent, yet steel-strength bond. You find love in a hopeless place, or better yet, actual privacy in a social media state.

However, most outsiders think having a life just for us is slightly abnormal, if not completely weird, and most puzzling, somehow an omen of dullness and/or unhappiness. So I'm here to set the record straight once and for all, and for one time only.

I am in love with my best friend. I have been for two years. We have lived together and apart. We have fought, and we have overcome. We have always been the topic of controversy, whether justly or truthfully so, yet we have always ignored the hell out of it. We have always been deeply in laughter as much as we are deeply in love, even when it looked like things were falling apart. We have never offered explanation nor description of anything; we have always, always, always been private. We have been private from the beginning because being private means having something special no one can touch or take away from you. Being private means being truly intimate with one person, not the world as a whole. Being private means being fulfilled within your relationship, not outside of it. Being private means discovering just how deep you love the person, not the idea of them.

Lest I hear another person ask me how this or that works in a now long-distance-but-barely-distanced relationship... it just works, alright? Do you want to know why? Because we talk to each other, not everyone else. We talk about everything, even the stuff that pisses us off, because when we wake up the next morning, everything we have said was to make the other person better. Make them happy. Make them know that just because there's a measly couple of hours between us, we still care about the other person more than anyone else, without agenda. And all the stuff we talk about, and do, and say, and plan, and dream in those conversations... we keep it to ourselves.

And you know what? That might not be ordinary to you, or ordinary period. But it is something. Something even better: extraordinary.

I'll share what I want to share when I want to share it. More importantly, I'll only share what I know he doesn't mind me sharing, because you know what's most important – more important – than this blog, than your opinion, than anything? Him.

Damn if that is not the best lesson he has ever taught me, and to learn it, the best decision I have ever made.

Happy 2 years, J. I love you and I like you.

Me & Drew

I've been feeling a little dried up lately writing-wise. It's not that I don't have ideas, it's just that I can't really get them out. Sometimes putting an actual pen to paper helps get things flowing, but most of the time, there's just some kind of congestion in the thought-to-words process.

But during this gloomy Monday and a temporary Internet outage, I decided to crack open the newest copy of Good Housekeeping. This mag just started showing up one day, and I'm not one to turn away anything that involves good interior design and organization. Besides, I have my suspicions that my delightful Grandma sent the surprise subscription my way...

Backstory aside, I finally got to the cover article about Drew Barrymore. I've always been a fan, (though I know she can be another one of those polarizing celebs) so I was curious to see what the gal had been up to since her marriage and baby havin'. And on a gloomy Monday with my nose in the pages of GH, I had an unexpected moment of inspiration alongside Ms. Barrymore.

Her achievements and drive are both motivational and admirable, but even more were Drew's fierce love and happiness she has toward her lot in life that really struck a chord with me. (Read the full article here if you so please.) I've felt this deep level of gratitude with the universe lately, despite not being able to find any other words for the intensity of gratefulness I have other than "thank you." When I read about someone else feeling that kind of fullness and not getting overwhelmed in the process, it made it a little easier to find the right thing to say. It felt easier to let go of the things I have to wait for, and to make moves on the things I have power over right now. It even made it easier to forgive myself for taking yet another day recovery day for this cold and shoving four scoops of ice cream in my face while doing so.

I may have to shake the sleep from all of my creative and motivative bones, but the feeling of simpatico I have from this little article will make the comeback more manageable and serve as a constant source of inspiration to return to in the difficult hours.

And all the while, I'm going to stay so, so thankful for all of the love (and every big AND tiny thing in between) I have in my life. Just like Drew, I'm intending to fight like a lion to stay happy for the rest of my days.

The Girl Who Gave Up Her Dream for Love

Well over a year ago, a girl had a dream of sparkling city lights, late night celeb-schmoozing, and a glamorous career in journalism. This girl couldn't wait for it. It was her DESTINY, and then Destiny slapped her in the face and said "WHOA, girl, sit your pretty little butt down. You're not going to that Big Apple, it's just not in the cards."

So the girl came home defeated but determined. She would wait, save, work a job she hated to get a job she loved in the city she was meant to. She would make it happen, and Destiny couldn't tell her no.

Ah, but Destiny is tricky. One night a month after her failed city-scursion, Destiny took off the blinders she'd been secretly holding in the girl's peripheral. The girl suddenly saw him, a man who had been on the borders of her life for years, a dashing man whose smile was so inexplicably intoxicating. The girl couldn't help saying "WHOA, Destiny, WHO IS THAT?"

Destiny giggled and pushed them into a room together. She pushed the girl forward, and the guy forward even further. She wrapped her arms around them both and kept inching them closer and closer over hours at first, then days, then weeks, then months before the girl was like "Destiny, what are you trying to tell me?" Destiny laughed again before pushing the man up to the girl's ear where he whispered, "I think... I love you."

The girl was overwhelmed, so much so that she didn't say it back, but her return kiss was enough for the man to know. Destiny danced a wild jig and watched over months and days and even a full year as these two loved each other and laughed, cried and sometimes fought, made it work and then it didn't.

The girl, sobbing through another night, screamed "Destiny, why did you do this?! I had everything I'd ever wanted, but you threw him in the gears and KNEW I would love him. Now I have nothing! How could you do this to me? You took away my dream!"

Destiny stared at the girl. She gazed and gazed until the flicker of light shimmered across the girl's eyes. Destiny smiled and put her arm around the girl as she began to cry again.

"I didn't have what I wanted, did I?" the girl asked

Destiny shook her head, maintaining her calming smirk.

"Because my dream, Destiny, wasn't a city or a job or a lifestyle, my dream was him. My dream was love."

Destiny smiled and embraced the girl. The girl who had given up her dream for love, only to find that love was her dream all along. Because she could write anywhere. She could live big and dream big no matter what city she was in. But here, here... this was the only place she could love. Love him, the man Destiny chose for her.

The girl was heartbroken, but knew that she was exactly where she wanted to be. She had always picked love, and this one, the greatest love of all, was her dream. Her love, him, the man was her destiny. And Destiny has a plan for them, even if the girl and the man don't quite know what it is yet. They'll figure it out. Together or alone, they'll figure it out.

Maybe Destiny is waiting just around the corner to nudge them together again. Maybe not. But Destiny is the only girl who knows for sure.

Angels Should Fly

Somewhere around 10 p.m. last night, the reminder of an early morning wake-up call and the sweat-inducing physical labor of moving in a roommate finally pulled my body into some kind of pseudo sleep. That didn't stop me from waking up every hour, either ripping myself from a horrible dream or waking up crying. I didn't understand. I don't understand.

Yesterday, in the middle of a beautiful late July day, I was lounging and surfing the Internet, as I'm sure most of us were. I never expected it to turn into a day of so much sadness and loss for the people I know, and a lot of whom I love, from my little home town. They were gone and they were never coming back, not for any of us.

Unfortunately, none of us are strangers to loss. It's something we've grown up with. I think some of my pals lost more friends in high school than they have since walking across the tiny little stage in that horrifically decorated auditorium of ours. I've heard it's finally got new curtains.

But what hasn't changed is the pain we feel when these untimely, senseless deaths rock our network, no matter how strained and spread out that network has become. We still feel like we've lost a vital chain in our link, no matter how much time has passed.

No one really needs to know the what of the situation. Most of us ask out of our own selfish curiosity, but when it comes down to it, the only thing that matters is them; the girls we lost, their memory, and the people who loved them so much better than the rest of us.

The memory I have is limited. I didn't know my friend's sister, but I did know my friend. Friend. Not acquaintance. Someone I genuinely spent time with, someone who, unlike that "acquaintance" term, never brought anger or annoyance to me when I saw her.

We weren't best friends. We didn't need to be; she had hers and I had mine, but that didn't mean we weren't kind to each other. I can say I always had a genuine smile on my face when I saw her. I really hope she thought the same about me. Not that it matters, because it will never change the fact that I thought she was a delightful person, and no one who is delightful in this crazy world we live in deserves to be ripped out of it. Not like this.

It's hard to find hope in a time of utter sadness. The tragic loss of two unforgettable girls follows so shortly behind nation-wide tragedy. It's hard to wonder if there is a point continuing to try, continuing to care about other people for fear of what happens if you do. It's hard to lose someone you love, and I swear, the pang only increases as your age does.

But we have to go on. We have to keep caring. In fact, we have to care more. If we don't, we won't honor their memory. We won't change the things we can to prevent these tragedies from happening yet again. And changing those things is what we have to do to survive. It won't be easy, but we've got each other.

We have to remember that no matter how far we live from each other or how pissed we have once gotten at each other, or whatever other petty walls we've set up to divide us, that we are all from the same place. Love it or hate it, we're tied together in a way no one else we've met since will understand. That connection can be a pain in the ass, but it's also pretty beautiful. We need it.

We need each other to lean on, to cry into each others shoulders, to hold each others hands, to catch someone in embrace when they feel too weak to stand. We have to have each other's backs because no one else will, not in the same way. Not in the way we need.

We have to remember to love each other in the same way we love those girls. And damn if we don't love them so much it hurts.

Rest easy, you sweet ladies.

The Best Damn Year of My Life

It's absolutely stunning how much can happen in only a year's time.

On a beautiful, dewy night in May, nestled in the North Carolina mountains with a houseful of friends, I sat snuggled on a bed with a box of Kashi cereal. I have a habit of bringing a snack to parties after many instances of winding up stranded and hungry, my heart palpitating, "WHY DIDN'T YOU THINK AHEAD, DUDE?!"

He walked up and sat down beside me. I had kept most of the cereal to myself, but his hands seemed clean enough and his smile was dazzling. "Sure," I said to his request for some, "but don't bogart it."

We sat together, talking and instigating our drunker pals with fake gossip for our own entertainment. We laughed and escaped to a quieter spot when our goading got a little out of hand. We talked more about everything, including our random and similar heart troubles. I barely knew him, but felt a very easy and strong connection that made me smile well after I'd departed for the evening.

The next day we all met for lunch on the beautiful patio at our favorite dive of a pub. We sat together, chatting the same invigorating chat as the night before. I had to depart back to the lowlands, but not before exchanging numbers with the most interesting person I'd met in longer than I could remember.

I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting to see if I'd imagined the connection, if he'd actually get in touch. If we'd actually ever see each other again. He put my mind at ease with an invitation to hang out that weekend and since then, it has been a whirlwind of unparalleled laughter and love, so much love.

This is the man I now call my boyfriend, but he's so much more than that trivial label. He's my best friend, my personal comedian, my supporter, my sounding board for everything. He has filled this year with so much joy for me, even during the darkest of times.

I love knowing that I can come home to him at any time. I love that when I tell him I wrote this, he will make some deprecating comment that will make both of us laugh. I love that because of the confidence I have in our relationship, I have the courage to make this (semi) public declaration of love for a man who deserves that kind of thing.

From warm summer days by the pool, to major hatin' on kids distracting our games of putt-putt, to late nights in our state's capital, to cool fall evenings in our now-home of the Twin City, to a holiday season of firsts, to cookouts every day in the spring weather, we have grown and grown together. I can only imagine the growth that waits on the road ahead.

I could wax on about a night in August when I heard the best combination of words known to man. I could tell you about the fuzzy feelings during that October Live concert. I could tell you how it still feels amazing every time he takes care of me or stands in my corner. I could tell you about every day I have spent with J in great detail, but I won't because it would overwhelm the both of us  – you with words, me with love and so much appreciation.

After a few bumps in the romantic road, I have finally found a person who respects me enough to be honest and loyal. I finally found a man who wants to walk beside me instead of in front of me, who believes in my intelligence and my dreams. I found someone I can count on, no matter how murky and rough the waters become. I found someone who can make me laugh until I feel like I might burst, and sometimes I do with tears.

So to the man in question, thank you. Thank you, J, for being who you are. Thank you for making me feel loved and secure. Thank you for being man enough to be with me through everything. Thank you for being brave enough to stand on shaky ground once and a while. Thank you for this lovely home we have with two wild pups. Thank you for making me the best version of me I've ever been. Above all, thank you for knowing like I do that laughter is the most important part of anything in life, and ensuring that I'm doing just that, first thing in the morning.

You're pretty groovy, kid. I think I might keep you around. Happy "I met you one year ago," Eddie. Bern loves you.