:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Friday, January 16, 2004 ::

[ riding nowhere / spending someone’s hard-earned pay ]

Welcome to normalcy, I suppose. I’m not really used to it; I only have my imagination and others’ remarks as a guide as to what non-head-over-heels love is like. I suspect I’ve secretly been looking for it for a longish time, but it’s only really preferable to The Good Stuff when the head-over-heels presents a tumultuous, inconvenient future. As it is, I don’t mind the comfort as long as I get my nifty little conversations and soulwarming quirk-of-the-week; i.e., Best Friend stuff. Such has been the case, as Jenn and I had a pleasantly thoughtful conversation about faith and religious identity that took us into the wee hours of the morning; I’m most pleased about her becoming nightowly, though we’re both struggling to kick that particular habit. It’s been tough: not only is spending time with her (albeit, telephonically) pretty much the most enjoyable thing I do, but my assassin is making the denizens of Kurast unhappy campers indeed.

Really, casual love is just emotional shorthand that enables existing around each other to not be a full-time task, as it had been for years. A casual emotional evaluation definitely validated how much we mean to each other; it’s just nice to be able to accept it on faith and just sort of watch TV next to each other, though (and here I apologize to The Kitty) I’ll never get used to how fucking annoying Harmony is. I don’t bloody care if she’s supposed to be annoying; it doesn’t make the show any easier to stomach. Like a Britney Spears video, it’s best watched on mute. (Sarah Michelle Gellar is hotter when you can’t hear her talk.)

Time in Boston was spent mostly relaxing, with a slight sliver of concern as to how relaxed we were. We actually went to a gym a few times, which granted insight into the world of being married, forty, and trying to lower my cholesterol, or raise my good cholesterol, or build up earwax, or whatever modern medicine will proclaim to be healthy twenty years from now. Rowing machines rock for simply tiring the fuck out of you and blistering your hands; at my untrained, inexperienced pace, I could burn over 100 calories in less than ten minutes. I dimly recall numbers that were worth striving for back in the days of Whitman Crew from looking over Wade’s and Matt’s shoulders, but I’m not racing anyone. In a spandex unitard. On a freezing river. You poor bastards.

Anne’s visiting, which is a Whole New Thing. People visiting me at home is always pleasantly jarring; the sight of books strewn about my room or the layout of my house takes on this novelty whenever people who don’t normally see them wander about. I don’t really know how to play the host well, as poor Keith can attest: I mostly just take folks to the mall, or Tower Records, or Barnes & Noble (where Anne and I went tonight and snagged a copy of the much-publicized Lies, And The Lying Liars Who Tell Them), yielding them largely the same experience as being in any other goddamn mainstream commercial district in the nation, which is often casually soul-crushing, in spite of my best efforts to keep up a lively banter and point out funny-looking folks. It’s not like I don’t have good examples: Nathan is a phenomenal host, and made Pittsburgh not suck quite a bit. I can’t really rate the Californians on their ability to show off a town, since simply being outside last winter break blew my mind. Let me get acclimated to the weather and the whole seeing-the-mountains-from-the-beach thing, then we’ll talk. In the meantime, it’s looking like a pre-noon breakfast and some museums for Anne and I. Hell, the Smithsonian is in my goddamn backyard (it’s next to the unused tennis court) and failing to put it to use is pretty tragic. Then we hit the mall in the evening. Some things never change.

Music: When it’s not Kid 606’s “Smack My Glitch Up,” it’s the mix I made for Anne, which with permission I’ll post. I’m not a braggart. Among the things I’m good at are dancedancing, identifying tones, grilled cheese sandwiches, and making mixes. Straight up.

:: Aziz 5:11 AM [+] ::
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