eternal
Maybe..., says he, Maybe the practice of keeping a diary, effectively journalizing, is so we can view our life's data in its most rudimentary form, and then make sense of it all in our own heads.
Yesterday I read all my journal entries from June.
I realized that my mind has been preparing itself for Kasey.
When relationships like mine and his begin many people need confirmation over and over again from a variety of sources just to believe it. Because in our heads we all have a series of tests.
my mom has to like him
he has to get "x" amount of pop-culture references
I have to like his shoes
Silly things, you know.
We also have a laundry-list of things we're determined to hear. I thought I had constructed a nearly non-existent man by this determination, too. There are things I think I deserve to have said to me, and Kasey seems to be going down the list as though it were a script that had been handed to him.
You know what I'm talking about, right? Those of us who have been decidedly single and hopeful for some time; those of us who have been telling people "I'll know it when I see it". The way we know we'll know it is becuase of this intricate mental map we've drawn that we could never explain, but it's full of proofs and tests and confirmations.
My journal from June makes it look almost like some part of my brain *knew* that Kasey would be here.
Whatever this man is in my life it's permanent, because he belongs to me.
When I was a younger young person my mother once asked me if I had a list of qualities for which I am looking in a man, and what was the No. One spot.
I told her about my list, and that the first thing was that he must be a Christian.
Mama shocked me and said, "Oh, honey, not that. You'll meet hundreds of Christians in your life, and not all of them should have the priviledge of holding your No. One requirement. The first thing on that list is that he is so crazy about you that he he runs into walls when someone even says your name."
She was right. I've known so many good Christian boys.
None of them were unable to sleep after receiving a little kiss from me, though.
Kasey was up all night painting, he said.
It was such a small kiss, too.
Reviving in me the belief in the excitement of kissing.
I used to have to gear myself up for making out.
"Okay, Michaela! Get ready to wallow and slobber! It's all you've been waiting for!! This going to be fun and feel good!"
Most of the time I was sloppy drunk.
side note:Maggie and I realized at the same moment last night that when I go to Todd's wedding I will have to see Eric Hoyer again for the first time in three years when he was my ten-day boyfriend. All I had said to Maggie was, "I wonder who will be at this wedding," and after a pause we both exclaimed, "oh, shit!" I hope that crusty, punk-rock mother-fucker doesn't still have a girlfriend who wants to kick my ass.end side note
Of course, some boys I cared about more than others, and it was in many ways a special gift to kiss them. But none of those kept me dizzy for twenty-four hours.
I cannot believe my sister is in Montana! I need to talk to her.
It was good to talk to Mama, though, and to Christy (my mom's best friend), and to Maggie, and to Kasey.
But hey! I do believe other things are going on in my life as well...
I just can't remember what they are.
There can't be shaddows of doubt when you've risen above the atmosphere and are floating in sunshine.
