If you feel I'm not listening, you're probably right; if you think I'm not paying attention, it's probably even closer to the truth, but if you believe that I don't care, you couldn't be more wrong. It's just not showing. The divide is spreading between what I do and what I love. I feel it every day like a great chasm opening between my feet. I'm good at my job. It comes naturally to me (well, most of it anyway). But to do it and to be successful at it mean that I feel obligated to neglect the things that are most important to me; the things that propel me forward on a daily basis.... the touch of a lover's hand...... a text message reminding me that warm thoughts are sent towards me whether I'm capable of responding or not..... a little girl's plea for a bedtime story after a twelve hour shift....

I am giving myself up to be devoured by something that I do not love, and which does not love me. This is an abominable way to conduct one's life.

I didn't mean to alarm you.

It wasn't intended to make anyone feel sad. It wasn't intended to do anything except to convey that part of the difficulty I have with writing lately is that I'm in 'experience mode'. And I'm happy. Christ, I'm HAPPY (?!). At 530am no less, with a 12 hour shift ahead of me. I may not leave them the next brilliant work of art to read that will change their lives twenty years after I'm dead, but personally, I really don't think they're worthy of that. If they're paying attention, if they have the eyes, to see, honey, I (WE) can change their lives right. Now. <3

I feel like maybe I advertised myself falsely. I thought I liked to write, I thought I was good at communicating myself that way. But ever since I met you, I've had the most frustrating case of writer's block. Frustrating in that I get frustrated when I think about it, but I don't think about it. Ever. I'm too busy absorbing the experience that I don't want to take any effort away from the feeling of what's here right now. And I'm afraid that if I turn my back on it, if I stop bathing in it, it will disappear. That's ridiculous, I know. But see, it's not. Because I just read what you wrote, and now I don't want to do anything besides sit behind you and play Super Mario World, while you talk in your best 'Vietnam Vet' voice about killing Americans, and Egyptian Jasmine floats around the kitchen, and the peace that I've found here with you (the peace I was telling you about this morning, remember? It's profound.) emanates from and inundates everything in a cycle around me. I love you. Maybe Plants vs. Zombies....

Sometimes the best years start off as the worst years. And some of the worst years start off the best. This year, I am going to refuse to make a value judgement. We put so much importance on the idea of 'New Year'. We end each one trying to bring it into perspective, and honestly, no matter what's happened to us, we can choose to frame it however we want to. "2010 was the year my career tanked." vs. "2010 was the year I received a new opportunity to explore other directions for my life". "2010 was the year my relationship ended" vs. 2010 was the year I shed a layer of skin that no longer fit me." Regardless of the challenges we faced, there is always the possibility of redemption through language. The language, when repeated becomes an idea, which becomes a belief, which becomes our reality....which is unique and exclusive to each individual. We can use that process to the advantage of creating the environment around us to be a positive, healing, nurturing one, rather than an atmosphere where there is only fear, hate, and negativity. Here's to 2011.