(no subject)
Aug. 11th, 2004 02:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omnia_mutanturt minus 12 days.
i can't figure out why i feel like a failure because i can't figure out why light's sad. if he knew, he'd tell (i imagine.) i'm a professional depressive. i know better than to think every mood can be puzzled out and fixed. some moods just are. but i still wish i could transplant the joy i'm feeling, even in the quicksilver glints of flareupfights, because i feel like we can disagree, because the worst that can happen is that it takes a hour to work through rather than a couple minutes.
loving him is like seeing minnows in a stream and i feel like i've got more than enough to spare, and it seems wrong that the world should be such a place where i get to be this happy, and the one making me this happy isn't.
i brought more chili than i should have into work today, and by the gods, do we owe the man who gave us this recipe. i'm pleasantly stuffed, and pleased with the fact that light and i can create good food.
and maybe we'll see history this weekend (and if i'm lucky, spark) and i keep poking at the issue of the fact that i don't have much in the way of friends in the valley, and if i'm living the life i want to be living, then i just have to let this scab over. i did what i had energy for, and i spoke what i felt i needed to speak, and if everyone drifts away, as long as i get to keep history and light at hand, the amazing friendships i have that take fruit in more sterile mediums are more than one girl could ever dream of having.
i might get to see iceberg this fall, and the idea thrills me. six long years, and we parted badly, but patched what could be patched, and time mellowed the rest, and now i want to see if he still looks like a battered angel, or if gradschool and a good relationship put curves where he one had angles, literally and metaphorically.
and now for more of the meeting-riffic wonder of my job.
i can't figure out why i feel like a failure because i can't figure out why light's sad. if he knew, he'd tell (i imagine.) i'm a professional depressive. i know better than to think every mood can be puzzled out and fixed. some moods just are. but i still wish i could transplant the joy i'm feeling, even in the quicksilver glints of flareupfights, because i feel like we can disagree, because the worst that can happen is that it takes a hour to work through rather than a couple minutes.
loving him is like seeing minnows in a stream and i feel like i've got more than enough to spare, and it seems wrong that the world should be such a place where i get to be this happy, and the one making me this happy isn't.
i brought more chili than i should have into work today, and by the gods, do we owe the man who gave us this recipe. i'm pleasantly stuffed, and pleased with the fact that light and i can create good food.
and maybe we'll see history this weekend (and if i'm lucky, spark) and i keep poking at the issue of the fact that i don't have much in the way of friends in the valley, and if i'm living the life i want to be living, then i just have to let this scab over. i did what i had energy for, and i spoke what i felt i needed to speak, and if everyone drifts away, as long as i get to keep history and light at hand, the amazing friendships i have that take fruit in more sterile mediums are more than one girl could ever dream of having.
i might get to see iceberg this fall, and the idea thrills me. six long years, and we parted badly, but patched what could be patched, and time mellowed the rest, and now i want to see if he still looks like a battered angel, or if gradschool and a good relationship put curves where he one had angles, literally and metaphorically.
and now for more of the meeting-riffic wonder of my job.
