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2018-10-04, 9:00 pm

WARNING!!!! If you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of reading things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is okay to read, save yourself, and me, the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, I.E. my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. This I hope you keep in mind, and thank you for reading.

Life can only be understood through memory...by looking back...and making sense of the nonsense. Unfortunately, it has to be lived forward...straight through the craziness. Love is the same way, but rather than being unfortunate...there is only fortune. This is why love is what makes us rich. This gives us our fortune.

The fortunate man (human, that is, male or female)...sees the full potential of life. They see family, by blood or even by pet.

What’s the difference between love
...and being IN love?
Like success, you cannot become successful. Either you are or you are not. Even the successful person pursuing an unsuccessful venture is living true to the idea


Moving forward in life is different than moving forward in love, but I see the potential being really much of the same ideas.

Looking back, though, I see my immature self as a teenager thinking I had found love. It was there, a destination...and I remember praying to God (something I used to do on a daily basis, but no longer see the sense of it) for it to happen. I was unfortunate to have been raised by parents who, while enabled me to learn, didn’t teach me what love was.

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love...
... and be loved in return.
- “Nature Boy”
To be loving and be lovable.

I never write for myself. This fact keeps me from writing for long stretches of time, and it’s unfortunate because I love to write. However, a lacking inspiration ceases wanting to write. One must only write when they must write. It’s not a desire, it’s a force. Like anything purely natural, as you and I know, however...there is no force that puts these words into my mind. They just flow, baby...

Since I don’t write for myself, I always write for someone else. Maybe you’ll look through my books someday. The notes amongst their pages reside in a minimal form of diary that is both meant to be everlasting and manages to be even more personal, even more true than a diary has ever been for me.

Now who are my notes and underlinings for?
In the books, one can only assume that Chandler would look through, so he’s forever on my my mind. Obviously. But lately I have...a different inspiration. And it’s pouring rain right now, so it’s like you’re with me even though you’re at work.

A common image I’ve used to exemplify the meaning of love is the bum on the street. No picture is needed, unfortunately we have all seen this many times. I will say I love this guy, but what is the difference between this love and the love I share with Chandler? Literally, this is as simple as time itself.

Chandler was not only an idea, he is a goal of human nature. Like God, we created man. This little man of mine is not “mine” like my haircut is mine. He is not an extension of me, he is his own person, but I am also...”his.” I have been there since the minute he was born, and even before then he was getting ideas of me...not in the form of ideas, but feelings. I have been a presence for all time that he knows.

I have love for the bum on the street because I accept him as he is. Love cannot be without this foundation of acceptance. I do not accept that he is a bum on the street (love is also genuinely hoping for the best for him), nor is that how I identify him or label him, as it is not my place to provide such a label, but for all intents and purposes, this is how he is seen by others. Now, he and I have no history, no...time...together...(and I am content with this relationship I have with this particular bum (who is fictional anyway). Perhaps his actions towards me (or towards Chandler or anyone else I loved) would be unacceptable, but I would accept him either way with the hope that he would do us no wrong.

This love begins in the infancy of our consciousness, of course, and grows from connections and the experiences brought on by these relationships. Relationships are formed by time, too, but the best relationships are the ones where time itself is forgotten. (Our work relationships are dictated by the hours of a shift while personal relationships cannot thrive under such limitations)

The Greeks thought of love differently. They labeled types of love, as if such a concept could be so defined.
Among the many, those most commonly used:
“Manía,” a love that can only occur for fictional characters, such as the ones our imaginations create about movie stars...
“Ágape,” a selfless form that many scientists do not believe exists, but exists very prominently in the form of altruism...and can be attributed to random bums on random streets...
“Philia,” as in Philadelphia, the “city of brotherly love,” a love no time or space can break...as family is what we make...
and “Eros,” my personal favorite, but one I do not consider to be a love in itself, merely a necessary accompaniment to true love...this is also known as erotic love. Some see lust, I see passion. Some see pleasure, I see purpose.

Whether you adhere to the idea of love as something that culminates between two people who found this connection or that ideas of different kinds of love are beyond types of relationships, they are all necessary components of a life truly lived. Just seeing the possibilities means that they exist! They’re real, right?

Cinderella is transformed in a typical “rags to riches” story and suddenly becomes good enough for the prince. This is a fairy tale. They’re married after only just meeting. This is an allegory for hope, the idea that “nothing will ever change if everything stays the same,” and that “one day my prince will come.”

Well, the myth has become the hope for too many people. I’m here to say...hope is not a strategy. And this little “hard pill to swallow” is an ugly dose of reality, but as ugly as the world can be, it is all we have. So...we have to find the beauty in it.

And I can’t believe I found you. You’re a butterfly amongst caterpillars not because you’re incredibly beautiful, but because you’re miles ahead. You’re flying high while they can hardly even look up. You are an idea I have had for a long time, one that existed before you did, even. A dreamgirl. It feels like I’ve been looking for you my whole life, but it’s easy to feel that way when all of my years (that’s 30 of them) have lead me to the years I have ahead of me. And I hope you are a part of them in some way, and if there is ANY way I can encourage that, I really believe there’s a future worth believing in. Whether we try to embrace impossible dreams or just sit back and just simply be...be together...I’m excited.

Whether we’re walking the streets of Paris or Dublin, Austin or Round Rock, as long as you’re holding my hand. (I love how our hands seem to find each other, and we’re just following them)

Thank you for living...and letting me be a part of your life. “Love” can be an intimidating word, but Love is never something to be afraid of (“there is no fear in love,” so says that Biblical holy-book book)...and maybe we’ll find comfort in using the word itself. Until that day, we’ll let it grow. This is my hope. And it won’t be yours or mine...it will be ours. Come what may.

The rain is lighter now...it’s brighter outside...and I’ll see you in a few hours.

October 9th
...at 3:45pm
(I started having ideas about this note after we made out under the tree in the rain, downtown Austin. Actually written only days after Ollie tore up your carpet. (Little Bugger didn’t even put new carpet down...written the day we worked together when I wrote you a little note that you must have thought was the first note I’d ever written you (and you kept it in your phone case)...but this is the first time I’ve ever written to you.

If there’s one thing I know for certain...it’s that, first of all, it’s hard to know what love is (like those who claim to know what God is)...certainly I know that love is not a destination. You’re not “there” all of a sudden, but it does feel as though it happens suddenly because you realize that it has happened. It’s a long fall, to be sure, and the only way we can acknowledge being “in love” is if we know we’re falling together. It’s not “I’m in love,” although the feeling can be true...it’s only so true when it’s me AND you.

Falling...is learning. It’s a language between two people that is not only mutually inherited, but developed over time. Like religion itself, except a pleasant devotion. There’s no empty promises of heaven, there’s a “literal heaven” we can see and feel right now, in this moment. Like all proper definitions (“define,” a word meaning “to set limits upon”), I have had a lot of experience proving what love is not...

...but more than anything in the world, I’m excited to learn what love means to you.

Every person deserves someone who will never give up on them.

Truly wanting happiness for someone else without expecting the same for themselves.

Her input (entered after she’d first read it):
you are incredible. never forget that.

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