No recipes today. I've been eating strangely. Nonstop snacking. Picnics on the floor. Nibbling grapes like a sulking Minerva. An entire bag of Spicy Thai Kettle Chips. I gotta get my ass down to the LES for a doughnut soon. And where is my chocolate? Where is my chocolate?
Boyfriend is out of town. Out of the country. An ocean away. And I'm conducting a study on my own behavior. I've noticed that it's the first 24 hours that hurts, when the absence is temporary. For a while I got where I could even do it without crying. But not this time, surrounded by all of his stuff that's part of our stuff. Because I'm so aware that he belongs here with me. He's away from his home and not just away from mine. He fell asleep in a hotel bed before the sun ever set here. And it may hit me around 1am that he's not just working late. And though I say I want a bigger bed, it will feel lonely tonight.
But, amazingly, I'm getting things done. No, I didn't leave the house today. I'm emailing people I meant to email. I'm cleaning. I'm hanging pictures on the wall.
Strangely, or maybe not strangely, I'm acting more like him. Not just wearing his sweater, which I'm not the first long-distance girlfriend to do. I'm reading the things he likes to read, drinking his tea, getting things done--just deciding to do and making it happen, not agonizing over actions--much more like him than me. Not making an effort to do these things, just wanting to do them. Does this happen to separated couples?
I've known it to happen to one twin when the other died. From one pole to the other, not one but both. And she wasn't trying to be her sister. Maybe there was just no longer any reason for her to be not her sister.
Am I saying that there are characteristics I leave to him when he's around? He's the one who fixes the computer, the tivo. He's the one who reads Icelandic saga and Marcus Aurelius. He's the one who makes a plan and makes it happen. Why could I not be these things too?
I've heard for so long how alike we are, since the very beginning, since we were in high school. Talking about semicolons in English class, my best friend said, "Octo; Octo's boyfriend*." A side-by-side comparison illuminating all the shared characteristics, and making clear the true nature of each. It was a joke and I rolled my eyes but the sight of the letters of our names staring at each other across the fence of the semicolon has always stuck with me.
Perhaps there's a part of me working so hard to preserve differences. Is this ridiculous? I did not mean to go into all this. But here I am watching Xmen on cable, listening to Sir Ian, ignoring commercials, and getting all introspective about a relationship that's gone long-distance for 2 weeks again. Those of you who've gotten this far and have any insight into this whole sameness issue, please give me your two cents. I'm not sure if I've gotten anywhere, but I've run out of steam.
* names concealed from people who already know them
Boyfriend is out of town. Out of the country. An ocean away. And I'm conducting a study on my own behavior. I've noticed that it's the first 24 hours that hurts, when the absence is temporary. For a while I got where I could even do it without crying. But not this time, surrounded by all of his stuff that's part of our stuff. Because I'm so aware that he belongs here with me. He's away from his home and not just away from mine. He fell asleep in a hotel bed before the sun ever set here. And it may hit me around 1am that he's not just working late. And though I say I want a bigger bed, it will feel lonely tonight.
But, amazingly, I'm getting things done. No, I didn't leave the house today. I'm emailing people I meant to email. I'm cleaning. I'm hanging pictures on the wall.
Strangely, or maybe not strangely, I'm acting more like him. Not just wearing his sweater, which I'm not the first long-distance girlfriend to do. I'm reading the things he likes to read, drinking his tea, getting things done--just deciding to do and making it happen, not agonizing over actions--much more like him than me. Not making an effort to do these things, just wanting to do them. Does this happen to separated couples?
I've known it to happen to one twin when the other died. From one pole to the other, not one but both. And she wasn't trying to be her sister. Maybe there was just no longer any reason for her to be not her sister.
Am I saying that there are characteristics I leave to him when he's around? He's the one who fixes the computer, the tivo. He's the one who reads Icelandic saga and Marcus Aurelius. He's the one who makes a plan and makes it happen. Why could I not be these things too?
I've heard for so long how alike we are, since the very beginning, since we were in high school. Talking about semicolons in English class, my best friend said, "Octo; Octo's boyfriend*." A side-by-side comparison illuminating all the shared characteristics, and making clear the true nature of each. It was a joke and I rolled my eyes but the sight of the letters of our names staring at each other across the fence of the semicolon has always stuck with me.
Perhaps there's a part of me working so hard to preserve differences. Is this ridiculous? I did not mean to go into all this. But here I am watching Xmen on cable, listening to Sir Ian, ignoring commercials, and getting all introspective about a relationship that's gone long-distance for 2 weeks again. Those of you who've gotten this far and have any insight into this whole sameness issue, please give me your two cents. I'm not sure if I've gotten anywhere, but I've run out of steam.
* names concealed from people who already know them
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Today for lunch I made a sandwich of sauteed garlic, tempeh bacon, and sundried tomatoes - with melted provolone cheese, pesto sauce, and bread.