you'll thank me later....i hope

Mr. Husband,

Has anyone ever complained to you about guys? Well, I have some complaints, and I'm only making you aware of them so that you can avoid them when you're, you know, sweeping me off my feet.

Why is it so hard for guys to stay consistent? I mean really. Don't be attentive one minute and then aloof the next. It's extremely frustrating. And it doesn't make the girl feel too great about herself. I know you guys are busy with you video games and man bonding, but we girls are pretty dang busy ourselves - we actually have conversations that last longer than 15 minutes. But somehow, we still find the time to think about you. Still find the time to text and call you. The least you could do is show us the same courtesy. Instead of leaving us hanging. I know you have it in your nature to not want to commit (which is a total over-generalization, i know), but do you have idea what it does to a girl? She thinks she can trust you, rely on you for some happiness in her day, and then you let her down.

Sorry this is so harsh, but I've seen too many deserving girls, myself included, get treated like an afterthought. And I've seen enough.

Please don't do these things to me. I know you're not perfect. And of course you're allowed to make mistakes. But if you could just try your hardest not to, I would greatly appreciate it. Oh and I'll also love you forever, if that's any incentive.

love.

that's my kind of camping

Mr. Husband,

can we go camping in our house? or apartment, as i'm sure will actually be the case. and can we make camp food and eat it in our cute little tent - that you'll somehow convince me to buy, even though i'll insist that we're not going to ever go camping (this is a time when i will admit that you were right). and we can roast marshmallows on our stove. and sleep in the tent in our pjs and sleeping bags. it will be so much fun. oh man i can't wait. hurry up and find me so we can have all this fun together.

love.

To you, mr. husband

I want to write about love. a love so great it defies fear.

but. that kind of love doesn't exist. life isn't perfect, which means that love isn't perfect. but that's the thing about girls and love. we're waiting. holding out. for that love that truly does conquer all. because maybe. just maybe. it's out there. ready to surprise us and prove us wrong.

So, instead of writing about a seemingly impossible love, I want to write about the love that I'm going to have. one day. To the love of a person I'm going to have someday. What I want. What I hope for. So this one's to you, a series dedicated to you, whoever you are, mr. husband...

to know you

The day I met you, was the day my eyes were open. Open to a new world. A new way of life. Before you. Life was good. But now. Now life is worth living. You've been here all along really. But I haven't formally introduce myself, at least not for a long time. And even then, I felt like I pushed you to the side too soon after. And for that I am sincerely sorry. I wish I could say that now was a time I could "start over" with you. But, I just can't do that yet. I wish I could. Mostly because I know that I should. Who wouldn't want to be close to someone who saves their life every single day? And without any recognition. I've never felt so undeserving yet in so much need. You would think with those two opposing notions, I would feel confused. But I don't. I never feel confused when it comes to you. There aren't even two answers. There's one answer. One. And I know it.

I feel like the girl in the back of the class who knows the answer to the hardest question, and is so excited to give that answer that her hand is flailing about above her. "pick me! pick me!" But she isn't chosen to answer. Because there are so many others in front her with their hands raised. So many others that are more competent, more worthy, to answer such an important question. And so she sits. Depleted. Until she realizes that the teacher has called on not one person, but every person. She's going down the rows, letting everyone have their turn. And then it's my turn. I was so eager to answer before. But now. After everyone else's response. I don't feel that mine matches theirs. So I stay quiet for a bit. Wondering what to do. Do I stand up and shout MY answer? Or do I stay just as I am. Because, frankly, I've grown accustomed to my life in the back of the class. Not having to speak. Only thinking. Is thinking the right answer the same as speaking it?

But. That's the thing. No matter any current comforts, I DO know the right answer. And I do WANT to answer. I could never ever deny that. Maybe it's a desire that has gone unnoticed for too long. But the desire is still there. Ready to burst at the seems. Just waiting, ever ready, to rise to the surface and proclaim:
"I know"

Moving Forward

Do you feel like your life is moving forward?

So often I find life is just, standing still. staying the same. Or, maybe worse, going a million miles a minute - you can't really account for progress if you're in the midst of a tornado.

Recently life has been moving so fast that I can't breathe. I don't know if I'm happy or sad or mad because I don't have time to process those emotions. I just. am. I'm doing whatever it takes just to keep myself afloat. The constant thought in my mind that I'm forgetting something, that some vital part is going to slip through my fingers. Bringing each thing I've so carefully crafted and balanced to come crashing down.

I love being busy. I always forget. And right now especially. I'm doing things I love to do. I'm getting more and more excited for my future. But. It seems that every week is a new adventure, stretching my abilities to maintain some semblance of a life worth living.

Moving forward implies so many things. But for now. This is all I can grasp.

vulnerable

Cupid and Psyche by François Gérard

I think there's just something so tender about this painting. Tender and awkard really. I won't explain the whole story. Only the relevant parts. the parts that I like.

Cupid is kissing Psyche - their first kiss. only she can't see him - he's invisible to her. That's why she's not looking at him. It seems so bizarre. To be getting kissed and not being aware of it. I mean, it's a first kiss! I want her to be able to see. To know of this wonderful occasion. Of this tender exchange. I want her to feel the excitement.

But more than all of that. Just look at their poses. At her pose. It's so vulnerable. Just look at the drapery. They would paint drapery like this to heighten, not hide, women's nakedness. And to be naked is to be vulnerable. I mean, girls don't just take their clothes off in front of anyone (well, some girls do, and they're called hookers). And the way her arms are placed across her body. Like she's trying to protect herself. Attempting the impossible really. Because to love - to be loved - is to be vulnerable.

But he's there. To embrace her. To offer a tender kiss of comfort. Of love. He doesn't want to hurt her. Just love her. And the beauty is that all of this is going on, and she can't see it. But in her eyes. Look in her eyes. I feel like she knows on some level. Of what she is recieving. Because to me, she looks scared. Scared and vulnerable. Because she doesn't know what's going to happen. Not just with the kiss, but with everything. About what comes next.

I feel like her pose is every girl's pose. She is every girl. Scared. Vulnerable. In need of protection. Wanting to be loved but worried about getting hurt. I love Cupid's pose. So sure. He's everything she's not. He's confident. Not afraid. There with open arms. He's not every guy. But he's the guy every girl needs. She's scared, but behind that fear is willingness. and hope.

To fall in love is one thing. The rest becomes, well, complicated. But this moment. It's before the complication. It's the beginning.