v-day

"HAPPY VD!" as they say on Cake Wrecks.

There are three camps, as we know. Which are you? Like, dislike, or don't give a rip? We're talking about Valentine's Day, not STDs now.

As for me... gosh darn it, I like it. I've always liked it. Even on years when I haven't had a particular someone, I still liked exchanging token gifts with friends and seeing happy couples around (PDA rocks, I don't care what people say. MOAR MAKING OUT PLEASE.). And I think it's important for people's mental health that we have a few shared cultural traditions. It's not a bad idea to put on a smile and celebrate a little, now and then--even when things mostly suck, even if at first it feels forced.

I don't believe in love.

I mean, I do and I don't. As The Vile Scribbler wrote earlier today, "Step back far enough, and absolutely nothing matters because it's all just supernovas and black holes."

Interiorly, I am often way out there with the black holes, as you may have noticed. Not necessarily feeling nihilistic per se... just observing, holding within me knowledge that isn't quite compatible with full immersion in the day-to-day goings on of my animal half nor with the fairy tales of our milieu. Yet, other than those fairy tales--by that I mean our morals, our values, our sense of wonder and inspiration, our decisions, our idealistic visions, our connections with other people and the sometimes-not-precisely-accurate constructs we create to describe various types of interpersonal phenomena, and possibly the so-called user illusion itself--what else is there to make life meaningful? God is dead and we are meat.

(God is dead, I know... but I am not.)

So we're big on "I love you" around here, in spite of being a family headed by a pair of brooding-eyed unbelievers. All of us are forever gazing at each other adoringly and saying those words. Not really forever. But 20 times a day. We smile and laugh a lot, and we play. Some would find us nauseating.

And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain

Optimistic and realistic at once. This was our song for a while. I still like it.

Pairing off long-term is hard work. Or it was for us. Especially the first couple of years. In the beginning (I mean after the pure magic bit) it was difficult to parse everything. My inner noise and someone else's, mixed together, and so much stimulation to muddy the signals. Perhaps it isn't this way for everybody, but for me it was a puzzle figuring out where it all originated--what is going on here? who is bringing which aspects of it? and does it even matter? Am I ill at ease because of the other, or because of what's inside of me already? (Spoiler: it's always the way your edges and the other person's meet, never just one or the other.) Will I ever feel comfortable bringing my other foot inside the door or will I always need to be crouched down and ready to bolt?

I love where we're at now but I don't think either one of us misses the journey.

I think we all wonder sometimes if the pain of coming together with jagged edges is even worth enduring. I won't say that it is. It turned out to be worthwhile for me in this particular time and space, with this particular person. So what? Sometimes it isn't.