Please stay safe. Keep your head up, my love. I'll be here when you get back, your shining light when you need it, always your baby bear.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Working up to it
It grips me in the most unexpected moments. Honestly, I'm not ready to write about your absence, even though I feel I really need to.
Please stay safe. Keep your head up, my love. I'll be here when you get back, your shining light when you need it, always your baby bear.
Please stay safe. Keep your head up, my love. I'll be here when you get back, your shining light when you need it, always your baby bear.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Revisiting
Written originally on 04.11.2013:
===================================================
I'm getting used to missing you constantly.
On average, we text around 20 times a day. This is how our relationship is sustained. I don't ask details about what you're telling me, because I know you don't have time to give them. I don't waste my words, and I think carefully about what's important to tell you. Around half of those texts back and forth are sweet, sentimental things, like, "I love you" or "hope your day is going great, baby! Thinking of you!"
I know we can survive off this sporadic, unpredictable and superficially shallow communication. You and I both know that it's not intentional, preferred, or ideal. I understand how busy you are, and I spend a good deal of time considering how I can make your life and my role in it less stressful (a mindset that my friends tell me isn't healthy). My sympathy towards your busy, tiring schedule is such a novelty to you that you don't really understand it. You keep waiting for me to behave as your ex did. I can feel your expectation of my anger in the way your phrase certain things: "If you don't hear from me, just know your man is busy, ok?" Or, "I'm so tired, I'm gonna go to bed. I'll talk to you in the morning?" Baby, you don't have to explain or qualify. I've told you this a million times, and I appreciate that you continue to make an effort to explain to me your circumstances, but...that's one of those stresses that you just don't need.
The other night (Thursday, 04.11.13), we FaceTimed for 1.5 hours. This time with you is what makes the days on end of loaded texting worth it. I'll be a loyal Mac customer for the rest of my life out of gratitude. I sit here contemplating how to put in words the way I feel post-FaceTime, and I just can't. I'm in love with you for all the reasons that text messages fail to capture - for all the reasons that WORDS fail to capture. If only the wives and girlfriends of military personnel of times past had FaceTime...they must have been some of the strongest women, unspoken pillars of resolve and loyalty. I can't imagine going for years without hearing your voice or seeing your handsome smile. What did they cling to in times of doubt and fear? Letters (the romantic, nostalgic version of text messages)?
We started off FaceTime horribly awkward. Your Uncle Ron had passed away the night before, and you were hurting. I still don't understand how you work (such a mystery!), so I won't attempt to psychoanalyze. However, I will say that I understood that your distance from me was not personal. I finally said, very firmly, "Babe." "Hmm," was all you said, your face still stony and uninterested. I had no idea what to say to politely bring you out of your internalization, so I just said, "I love you." Instantly, your hardened face was broken with the teensiest of smiles. The muscles around your eyes relaxed, and your clenched jaw released its tension.
We discussed your stress, and I took a chance on telling you that I was worried that your commitment to me was too much. Lately, I'd been succumbing to my self-doubts, and I'd been fearing that you'd leave me. You have so much going on, and snapping out of your Marine mindset in order to talk to your sappy, peppy far-away girlfriend seemed to me like a hassle. You told me I was being silly.
Even as I'm writing this, I see the ridiculousness of what I'm saying. All military personnel, regardless of where they are in their career or the world, need a strong, unwavering tie to civilian life. I'm beginning to learn that without this, they lose themselves to the unflinchingly masculine and harsh world of military paradigm.
===================================================
I didn't finish this post because it hurt too much. I have a hard time dealing with these things, and I just never revisited this one. Publishing it anyway.
===================================================
I'm getting used to missing you constantly.
On average, we text around 20 times a day. This is how our relationship is sustained. I don't ask details about what you're telling me, because I know you don't have time to give them. I don't waste my words, and I think carefully about what's important to tell you. Around half of those texts back and forth are sweet, sentimental things, like, "I love you" or "hope your day is going great, baby! Thinking of you!"
I know we can survive off this sporadic, unpredictable and superficially shallow communication. You and I both know that it's not intentional, preferred, or ideal. I understand how busy you are, and I spend a good deal of time considering how I can make your life and my role in it less stressful (a mindset that my friends tell me isn't healthy). My sympathy towards your busy, tiring schedule is such a novelty to you that you don't really understand it. You keep waiting for me to behave as your ex did. I can feel your expectation of my anger in the way your phrase certain things: "If you don't hear from me, just know your man is busy, ok?" Or, "I'm so tired, I'm gonna go to bed. I'll talk to you in the morning?" Baby, you don't have to explain or qualify. I've told you this a million times, and I appreciate that you continue to make an effort to explain to me your circumstances, but...that's one of those stresses that you just don't need.
The other night (Thursday, 04.11.13), we FaceTimed for 1.5 hours. This time with you is what makes the days on end of loaded texting worth it. I'll be a loyal Mac customer for the rest of my life out of gratitude. I sit here contemplating how to put in words the way I feel post-FaceTime, and I just can't. I'm in love with you for all the reasons that text messages fail to capture - for all the reasons that WORDS fail to capture. If only the wives and girlfriends of military personnel of times past had FaceTime...they must have been some of the strongest women, unspoken pillars of resolve and loyalty. I can't imagine going for years without hearing your voice or seeing your handsome smile. What did they cling to in times of doubt and fear? Letters (the romantic, nostalgic version of text messages)?
We started off FaceTime horribly awkward. Your Uncle Ron had passed away the night before, and you were hurting. I still don't understand how you work (such a mystery!), so I won't attempt to psychoanalyze. However, I will say that I understood that your distance from me was not personal. I finally said, very firmly, "Babe." "Hmm," was all you said, your face still stony and uninterested. I had no idea what to say to politely bring you out of your internalization, so I just said, "I love you." Instantly, your hardened face was broken with the teensiest of smiles. The muscles around your eyes relaxed, and your clenched jaw released its tension.
We discussed your stress, and I took a chance on telling you that I was worried that your commitment to me was too much. Lately, I'd been succumbing to my self-doubts, and I'd been fearing that you'd leave me. You have so much going on, and snapping out of your Marine mindset in order to talk to your sappy, peppy far-away girlfriend seemed to me like a hassle. You told me I was being silly.
Even as I'm writing this, I see the ridiculousness of what I'm saying. All military personnel, regardless of where they are in their career or the world, need a strong, unwavering tie to civilian life. I'm beginning to learn that without this, they lose themselves to the unflinchingly masculine and harsh world of military paradigm.
===================================================
I didn't finish this post because it hurt too much. I have a hard time dealing with these things, and I just never revisited this one. Publishing it anyway.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Mirrors
I'm overwhelmed with how I'm feeling today. I would never admit this to you, but today is the day I've completely fallen in love with you.
Our relationship is, out of necessity, fabricated from text messages. Feeling like I'm believing in a work of fiction with a life of its own has become my reality. While you and I make a concerted effort to transcend the monotony of texts, it also has its benefits. I can relive the moment you told me you love me whenever I want.
I was standing in Kerstie's living room. She was in the bathroom doing her hair, and Aralynn and I were taking picture after picture, with me inspecting every outtake with the criticism that only someone in a long-distance relationship understands. I got your text and a shock ran through my body. I simultaneously felt ecstatic and nervous. I immediately said, "OMGAralynnCodytoldmehelovedme!" Her immediate response - "WHAT?! Let me see." We analyzed if you meant it, if it was THE "I love you," or if you were just fishing to see how I would react. It took us two seconds to determine that you meant it, but took me hours to determine how to respond to you.
I tried to respond in a way that didn't involve the words "I love you, too!," but that also showed that I was in full support of where this conversation was going. I told myself that it was too soon - can people really fall in love when they've only known each other 13 days? We'd spent 5 nights together before you'd gone off to Oceanside, and since you left me on March 17th, signing "I <3 You" from your truck, we'd been texting each other constantly - I was "your girl" and you were "my man."
Until now, my caution and disbelief in fantastic love stories prevented me from embracing that maybe I was beginning one, but you and I both know how seriously I took those words. Not seeing you again before you left for Okinawa was not an option, not with this change in events. I am unwaveringly proud of my spontaneity. By 8pm March 23rd, I was in my car driving to Oceanside to hear you say those words in person. I needed to affirm that this whirlwind love story was worth waiting for.
I can't wait to write that story - hearing you tell me you loved me for the first time, watching your lips shape the words and taking in the way your eyes grew softer as you looked at me. The shape of your impulsive smile and barely repressed joy at our one day to be in love in person.
But this story is about today - the day that I unequivocally gave into being in love with you.
I started my morning with you on my FaceTime - it'd literally been exactly two weeks since I'd heard your voice, much less seen your face (ok, 5 hours shy of exactly two weeks). You're such a dork....I'd been telling you to FaceTime me for days now. It uses the WiFi and is a totally free way to video call me. I'd been craving you voice, your smile, your laugh. I told you, "Go to my contact." "Ok, going," you said. "Now push FaceTime." "It's that easy? LOL," and next thing I knew, your FaceTime request was coming up on my screen.
OMG! I flipped on my overhead light, instantly flipping it off in favor of more flattering soft light from my beside lamp. I frantically pawed at my bedhead - seriously?! I never get bedhead, and of all mornings for a wild curl on the side of my head...I looked around anxiously, making sure nothing stupid was laying around, and then I practiced a few head tilts in my screen before accepting your call.
Oh, your face! Moving. In real time. The littlest things - the way you look at me, the way your mouth moves before you speak, how unaffected you are by how YOU might look to me. I was instantly overwhelmed. We had the dorkiest conversation, talking mostly about nothing except that we couldn't believe we were actually looking at each other. You said you'd do this all the time now that you knew it was so easy, and I told you that I would love even 30 seconds with your face everyday. You were the first one to calm down and seriously say, looking at me as intimately as you could over 8,899 miles and a sketchy WiFi connection, I love you. I had the presence of mind to screenshot your face, so I could relive how you look when you say those words to me. Your face transforms - it's soft, warm, happy, and gentle. Anyone who could see how you look when you tell me you love me would know that you mean it. After two weeks of perfecting the art of daydreaming and reliving memories, I needed this more than I realized.
We spoke about North Korea. I don't want to relive this part, but I will tell you how I felt. As you spoke in a careful way about how likely it is that you will be involved in some capacity with the pending North Korean war, I removed myself from the situation in a way that I've never done before. You hear people talk about how they mentally check out of uncomfortable situations, how they throw up impermeable defensive walls against things they don't want to let in. In that moment, my impassiveness and lack of fear at you telling me that you may be involved in "combat" with bombs crept up on me. I didn't even want to give this reality form. You knew I was scared - you told me: "Babe, I'm really good, no one is going to hurt me." I couldn't help but respond, "It's not the people I'm afraid of, it's the bombs." You laughed and said, "Yeah, I don't like bombs either. NO BUENO!" And then you were laughing, "Being blown up is no fun...no bueno..."
I sat quietly, totally unsure and completely scared, knowing it's irrational to fear losing you when at present we're staring at each other through iPhone screens. I mean, you're pretty safe, right? What are the chances of you actually dying from a North Korea bomb? Besides, I committed to being strong for you - and to me, this intrinsically, necessarily, and permanently includes never giving form to a reality where you could die. You face that fear bravely and honestly every single day. I'm in your life to give definition, color, and reality to the other side - the side where you come home to a life after facing that fear everyday.
You tell me that you are excited for combat, that "being in a time of peace is boring." I'm lagging seconds behind the conversation, struggling to even make sense of what you're telling me. You go on, "I'd be excited if we go to war, because I'd get to do what I'm trained to do. Being at peace is awful - you have to do so much boring stuff." You elaborate on the boring stuff, but my mind is in no place to remember the technical things you said. I can't help it - I tell you, "Do you have any idea how what you're saying sounds? That you hope we go to war because peace is boring?" You consider how it sounds and then start laughing. Yup, you sound like a war maniac. You rephrase - "I just mean that I'm excited to actually put to use all my training and defend my country like I've always wanted to." I tell you, "Say THAT from now on," but my brain is still struggling to understand what the fuck you could possibly be thinking.
Is this really happening? Am I really living this life? A life where I'm having 6:00am FaceTime conversations with my boyfriend of 30 days, who is living in Japan 15 hours into my future, where we discuss bombs, combat deployment, and death? And are you really laughing about this? What am I supposed to do, and how do I respond to this?
It's in this moment that my two worlds collide. This sounds completely melodramatic, but this actually is pretty melodramatic, and I'm not really sorry about it.
I'm an idealistic young girl (should they be any other way?), wishing I was a hippie with long blonde hair and stovepipe pants. I dream of flowers and peace signs and growing up to be the president. I'm 9 years old, and I remember laying on the couch and watching some political speech that I didn't understand. I have this very vivid daydream that actually makes me cry - I imagine when I'm the (first woman) President of the United States, and I'm faced with a situation where any other person would declare war. I address the camera, and with a serious resolve, say "I will NOT go to war. We will make peace work."
I'm in high school, debating International Relations feminism with a depth that would put to shame college Women's Studies grads. I'm passionate about this in a way that I've never been passionate about anything, and it literally shapes the person I became. I'm 17, at Wal-Mart, sporting a homemade t-shirt that says "War is Mass Murder." This is right during the height of the Iraqi war, and everyone is sensitive to the first round of troops being deployed. I don't give a shit about being politically correct, because I'm so ardently insistent that war is never the best solution. I'm surrounded my Wal-Mart employees and the police are called, and I'm so firmly rooted in my beliefs that I'm arguing even with the cops about how state-sanctioned murder is not going to solve the conflict. I know I was insensitive, but I embraced it as a healthy part of grassroots change.
I'm in college, and I'm an Anthropology major. I internalize cultural relativism in a deep way, and by now, my worldview is rigidly immobile. I see the world a particularly fundamental way, I see geopolitical boundaries as cartoon actors on top of this world, and I see government military installations as re-entrenching dichotomous sociopolitical structures. The military is fundamentally unnatural.
This is who I am. You don't know this part of me. You asked me last night, "Would you ever join the military?" I carefully told you that I had never considered the military as a career, and that literally, travelling with the circus and eating fire would be higher on my list of potential careers. I (diplomatically) say that I would consider it if I knew I could use my anthropology degree and influence cultural diplomacy. You seem to love this answer, and you tell me that I'm perfect. I'm not sure what answer you were looking for. It's because of instances like this (and a slew of others) that I'm not sure how you REALLY feel about the military. So who is the boy on FaceTime telling me that he times of peace are boring?
Most of the time, I feel like you're my mirror. You reflect truth, you reflect a reminder to believe in myself, and you reflect strength. I don't even understand the level of trust that I have with you. I feel like I have so much to learn about you, but what I do know resonates with me on an intimate level.
Last night, you tell me -
I love the way you speak to me - majestic. Who uses that word? You make me feel so beautiful.
Today, as I reel from the duplicity of this new wartime Cody and my sweet Cody who uses words like majestic, I'm intensely reflective on what brings us together. I can't fathom why you think I'm so interesting. I also don't understand this new side of you, and I don't know how to reconcile it with the Cody I know. I don't know if I have to. I'm overwhelmed with the irony of the situation, with my lack of understanding. My education works in the background, and I try to make sense of the culture clash. Through the confusion, though, I find myself absolutely enchanted by you. I'm overwhelmed with it. I don't believe you're so different from me that I would be enchanted by your exoticness. I know that I'm not attracted to you as a Marine - again, I've never known this Cody. I am just absolutely fascinated by you, and I text you and ask you to remind me to explain this to you when you wake up.
"I reminding you!" is what you tell me around 2pm this afternoon. The important part of my answer:
It hits me - you ARE so complex. I've never felt so in awe of a person before. You are so intricate and special, and I don't feel like I've even begun to understand. You tell me that the above text is "intense," and I ask you, nervously, "In a bad way?" You tell me "In a good way." This moment. I don't know why, but this moment is when I am completely, deeply in love with you. I didn't know this until I thought it, but up until now, my love for you has been a growing potential. It's been intense and sincere, but it hasn't even approached this level. I am completely overwhelmed by you - that's all I can think about.
This story is still in progress. In that moment, I texted you and asked if you remembered when I was leaving CA, and told you over the phone that I loved you, but it was only as much as someone could love another person that they'd known for two weeks? You replied, "yes dear I remember." I wrote you back "Snaps, babe..." and proceeded to tell you in so many words the above. You've been busy (as you put it, "When you don't hear from me, just know that your man is busy!"), and haven't replied yet. I hope I don't negatively overwhelm you...so far, I haven't.
So, here we are, separated by many circumstances, and sharing complex worldviews that don't even have the capability of intermingling, and we're getting more serious by the day. I've passionately believed in living my reality as your girlfriend, clinging to the idea that if I don't actively create this reality, it will fade away. But I'm starting to see that this love story has a life of its own, and that I don't need to force it quite so much. I believe in our future in a way that I couldn't two weeks ago, and trusting in that is bringing me peace. I look forward to exploring what makes you you. You may feel an awful lot like my mirror, and we may share some reflective surfaces, but our opacity is what makes this relationship so good. I can't wait to get to know you.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
15
Fifteen minutes. My threshold for being alone with myself until I start disintegrating.
Today started off beautifully, thanks to you and your meaningful, perfect text messages, and it carried me all the way up until now.
Tomorrow I'll make it half an hour.
Today started off beautifully, thanks to you and your meaningful, perfect text messages, and it carried me all the way up until now.
Tomorrow I'll make it half an hour.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Our last night in Salt Lake
I have very strong memories of the emotions I felt on March 17, 2013.
The night before, we lay in my bed, snuggled up against each other in the kind of way you only get when you aren't trying. We'd sort of accidentally ended up so comfortable, and both of us relaxed into the closeness, willingly powerless to change our state. My head on your chest, one leg thrown over your thighs, I trailed my fingers along your chest and up and down your arms, tracing your tattoos and feeling your skin under my fingers. You ran your fingers through my hair and gently traced lines down my neck and onto my shoulders, with your other arm wrapped around my back. Your fingers traced the contours of my face, across my forehead, my cheekbone, and down my jawline. You kissed my forehead so softly and let your lips linger, as if the length of the kiss directly correlated to the intensity of the moment. Joining in the face-tracing, I fell mesmerized as I ran my fingers along the outlines of your face, secretly memorizing the feel of your skin under my fingers. The line of your strong jaw, the feel of your stubble, the soft skin around your eyes, the shape of your lips.
Bliss - this was absolute bliss. I can honestly say that I've never felt closer to someone than I felt lying with you. The connection we had was so intimate and so intense, and I know you felt it too. We found something rare, and we both knew this was important.
I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking in the morning to the overwhelming sense that I couldn't let you leave my life. We'd ended up on opposite sides of the bed, and I turned over to find you with your back facing me. Motionless, completely swept away in the emotions rolling through me, I daydreamed about what life would be like with you here permanently. I read and reread the tattoo on your back, admiring the line work of the letters and wondering where you were in life when you got it.
Pulling myself away from my fixation on your sleeping form, I moved to the kitchen to make you breakfast. I was so stressed about doing a good job, because in true gender-role sexist form, I wanted you to think I could take care of you. My pancakes were super fluffy (go me), but also super gooey on the inside (fail). I have no idea what I did wrong, but at least my scrambled eggs and vegan sausage came out as expected. I woke you up, and we went into the kitchen to eat.
I was so nervous being with you in the light of day again - I felt shy and vulnerable after the emotions I experienced the night before. Trying to lighten the mood, I sat on the counter to eat and warned you that the pancakes were not really cooked all the way through. You said, "They taste good, babe! Kinda mushy, but good!" You're the best...they were really gross.
After breakfast, you insisted on washing the dishes. Grabbing a towel, I sat on the counter next to you to dry them. It took us 45 minutes to get through a sinkful of dishes, mostly because you scrub more thoroughly than any other human on Earth. My dishes have never been cleaner. You did most of the talking, and most of it revolved around your upcoming orders to Okinawa and your time spent in Camp Pendleton. I had no problems listening and enjoying the simplicity of your company.
When the topic turned to you and I, you told me something along the lines of:
"I hope you know how things would be different if I were staying. They would be different even if I were in stationed at Camp Pendleton. I would want you to be my girlfriend. But it's unfair of me to ask you to wait for me for 2 years while I'm in Oki, and it'd be unfair for you to ask me to wait, too. We just don't know what's going to happen, but I do know that I want to keep in touch with you while I'm gone."
Of course, I agreed, both verbally and internally. Even despite the strong emotions of the night before, I knew that asking each other to wait for a future would be pointless endeavor. We could promise anything we wanted, and it wouldn't guarantee a future. I said as much to you, and I reiterated that I felt that labels were empty promises.
Much of the rest of the day was spent in silence. We watched my favorite movie, Closer, and laying with you on the couch, I felt like I'd known you my whole life. I felt simultaneously suspended in time with you, and like we were racing towards a culmination. The hours were flying by towards 5pm, which was our previously agreed upon time for your departure. You were flying to Oceanside the next afternoon, and I wanted to make sure I didn't steal any more time away from your parents. Around 4:45, as I lay on top of you on my bed, I started crying. I didn't expect to cry, and I think I surprised you as much as I surprised myself. Feeling foolish, I left the room to escape the intensity. When I came back, it flooded over me again. I told you that I didn't cry often, but that I was just sad to see you go. You assured me that we would keep in touch, and that this wasn't goodbye. When my emotions wouldn't get themselves in check, you said, "Come on, let's get out of the house and go somewhere." "No," I said. "You have an hour drive to Spanish Fork, and I can't take anymore of your time. Let's just leave the house at the same time, and I'll go somewhere to distract myself."
On the way out, I made sure you said goodbye to Sunny, who I called Grandma Dog the entire time you were here. You had told me she was your favorite. She might not be alive by the time you return from Okinawa, and I wanted to know you said a proper goodbye. We went out to your huge white truck, and the panic started to set in. You told me it needed to warm up before you could go, and I took irrational relief in the fact that I'd have a few more minutes with you. You rummaged around in your backseat for something to give me, and all you could find was an orange stuffed bunny that someone else had won for their girlfriend. I didn't care - you were giving it to me, and it was mine. We kissed a couple of times, and I could hear your heart pounding so fast in your chest. I said as much to you, and you said simply, "I know." Ever the brave one, you were the one to tell me goodbye, and I played it cool as you got in your truck and shut your door. I mindlessly walked to my car and got in, slowly backing out of the driveway. You followed me down the street, and out onto the main road. I wasn't going to cry. It wasn't going to happen. I could be strong, I could do this. You weren't even my boyfriend.
We reach a stoplight (red light kisses!) and you pull up next to me. I look over to you, not knowing what to do, but frantically memorizing the way you looked. You're strong, handsome, and hands down the sexiest man I know. I felt so lucky. You pointed to yourself, made a heart over your chest, and pointed at me. Completely overwhelmed with emotion and the realization that what you just signed to me might actually be true for me, I just blew you a kiss. As we drove onward, you reached the street where you needed to turn to get to the freeway. You waved goodbye to me and turned. I drove through the intersection and looked at your receding form, thinking that the back of your head was the last I'd see of you for two years. Of course, this wouldn't prove true, but more on that later.
I drove to Target, unsure where else to go. I hadn't started crying yet, and I mindlessly milled around, looking for something engaging. I ended up in the nail polish aisle (of course), and I stared vacantly at the colors for several minutes before deciding to just leave. Was I really planning on buying nail polish? I walked to the cash register area and stood in line behind a couple buying clothes and cleaning supplies. Around the time that they were paying, it occurred to me that I was standing in line with nothing to buy. They had already noticed this and my zombie appearance and were giving me the strangest look. Embarrassed, I collected my movements, picked my heart up off the floor, and made to leave. Oh, snaps...it was my cousin and her boyfriend. No way could I face them right now. I looked them straight in the eye and just walked past. All I could think of was how someone who could be the love of my life just drove away from me.
I don't remember what I did the rest of that night, but I know it involved a lot of crying. I wanted nothing more than to be your girlfriend and to have a life with you. This would NOT be the end of us. It couldn't be.
The night before, we lay in my bed, snuggled up against each other in the kind of way you only get when you aren't trying. We'd sort of accidentally ended up so comfortable, and both of us relaxed into the closeness, willingly powerless to change our state. My head on your chest, one leg thrown over your thighs, I trailed my fingers along your chest and up and down your arms, tracing your tattoos and feeling your skin under my fingers. You ran your fingers through my hair and gently traced lines down my neck and onto my shoulders, with your other arm wrapped around my back. Your fingers traced the contours of my face, across my forehead, my cheekbone, and down my jawline. You kissed my forehead so softly and let your lips linger, as if the length of the kiss directly correlated to the intensity of the moment. Joining in the face-tracing, I fell mesmerized as I ran my fingers along the outlines of your face, secretly memorizing the feel of your skin under my fingers. The line of your strong jaw, the feel of your stubble, the soft skin around your eyes, the shape of your lips.
Bliss - this was absolute bliss. I can honestly say that I've never felt closer to someone than I felt lying with you. The connection we had was so intimate and so intense, and I know you felt it too. We found something rare, and we both knew this was important.
I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking in the morning to the overwhelming sense that I couldn't let you leave my life. We'd ended up on opposite sides of the bed, and I turned over to find you with your back facing me. Motionless, completely swept away in the emotions rolling through me, I daydreamed about what life would be like with you here permanently. I read and reread the tattoo on your back, admiring the line work of the letters and wondering where you were in life when you got it.
Give me the will to fight,
the power to give salvation,
and the courage to endure this Hell.
Pulling myself away from my fixation on your sleeping form, I moved to the kitchen to make you breakfast. I was so stressed about doing a good job, because in true gender-role sexist form, I wanted you to think I could take care of you. My pancakes were super fluffy (go me), but also super gooey on the inside (fail). I have no idea what I did wrong, but at least my scrambled eggs and vegan sausage came out as expected. I woke you up, and we went into the kitchen to eat.
I was so nervous being with you in the light of day again - I felt shy and vulnerable after the emotions I experienced the night before. Trying to lighten the mood, I sat on the counter to eat and warned you that the pancakes were not really cooked all the way through. You said, "They taste good, babe! Kinda mushy, but good!" You're the best...they were really gross.
After breakfast, you insisted on washing the dishes. Grabbing a towel, I sat on the counter next to you to dry them. It took us 45 minutes to get through a sinkful of dishes, mostly because you scrub more thoroughly than any other human on Earth. My dishes have never been cleaner. You did most of the talking, and most of it revolved around your upcoming orders to Okinawa and your time spent in Camp Pendleton. I had no problems listening and enjoying the simplicity of your company.
When the topic turned to you and I, you told me something along the lines of:
"I hope you know how things would be different if I were staying. They would be different even if I were in stationed at Camp Pendleton. I would want you to be my girlfriend. But it's unfair of me to ask you to wait for me for 2 years while I'm in Oki, and it'd be unfair for you to ask me to wait, too. We just don't know what's going to happen, but I do know that I want to keep in touch with you while I'm gone."
Of course, I agreed, both verbally and internally. Even despite the strong emotions of the night before, I knew that asking each other to wait for a future would be pointless endeavor. We could promise anything we wanted, and it wouldn't guarantee a future. I said as much to you, and I reiterated that I felt that labels were empty promises.
Much of the rest of the day was spent in silence. We watched my favorite movie, Closer, and laying with you on the couch, I felt like I'd known you my whole life. I felt simultaneously suspended in time with you, and like we were racing towards a culmination. The hours were flying by towards 5pm, which was our previously agreed upon time for your departure. You were flying to Oceanside the next afternoon, and I wanted to make sure I didn't steal any more time away from your parents. Around 4:45, as I lay on top of you on my bed, I started crying. I didn't expect to cry, and I think I surprised you as much as I surprised myself. Feeling foolish, I left the room to escape the intensity. When I came back, it flooded over me again. I told you that I didn't cry often, but that I was just sad to see you go. You assured me that we would keep in touch, and that this wasn't goodbye. When my emotions wouldn't get themselves in check, you said, "Come on, let's get out of the house and go somewhere." "No," I said. "You have an hour drive to Spanish Fork, and I can't take anymore of your time. Let's just leave the house at the same time, and I'll go somewhere to distract myself."
On the way out, I made sure you said goodbye to Sunny, who I called Grandma Dog the entire time you were here. You had told me she was your favorite. She might not be alive by the time you return from Okinawa, and I wanted to know you said a proper goodbye. We went out to your huge white truck, and the panic started to set in. You told me it needed to warm up before you could go, and I took irrational relief in the fact that I'd have a few more minutes with you. You rummaged around in your backseat for something to give me, and all you could find was an orange stuffed bunny that someone else had won for their girlfriend. I didn't care - you were giving it to me, and it was mine. We kissed a couple of times, and I could hear your heart pounding so fast in your chest. I said as much to you, and you said simply, "I know." Ever the brave one, you were the one to tell me goodbye, and I played it cool as you got in your truck and shut your door. I mindlessly walked to my car and got in, slowly backing out of the driveway. You followed me down the street, and out onto the main road. I wasn't going to cry. It wasn't going to happen. I could be strong, I could do this. You weren't even my boyfriend.
We reach a stoplight (red light kisses!) and you pull up next to me. I look over to you, not knowing what to do, but frantically memorizing the way you looked. You're strong, handsome, and hands down the sexiest man I know. I felt so lucky. You pointed to yourself, made a heart over your chest, and pointed at me. Completely overwhelmed with emotion and the realization that what you just signed to me might actually be true for me, I just blew you a kiss. As we drove onward, you reached the street where you needed to turn to get to the freeway. You waved goodbye to me and turned. I drove through the intersection and looked at your receding form, thinking that the back of your head was the last I'd see of you for two years. Of course, this wouldn't prove true, but more on that later.
I drove to Target, unsure where else to go. I hadn't started crying yet, and I mindlessly milled around, looking for something engaging. I ended up in the nail polish aisle (of course), and I stared vacantly at the colors for several minutes before deciding to just leave. Was I really planning on buying nail polish? I walked to the cash register area and stood in line behind a couple buying clothes and cleaning supplies. Around the time that they were paying, it occurred to me that I was standing in line with nothing to buy. They had already noticed this and my zombie appearance and were giving me the strangest look. Embarrassed, I collected my movements, picked my heart up off the floor, and made to leave. Oh, snaps...it was my cousin and her boyfriend. No way could I face them right now. I looked them straight in the eye and just walked past. All I could think of was how someone who could be the love of my life just drove away from me.
I don't remember what I did the rest of that night, but I know it involved a lot of crying. I wanted nothing more than to be your girlfriend and to have a life with you. This would NOT be the end of us. It couldn't be.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
The First Time
Everything about you and I has been an accident, a circumstantial coincidence that astonishes me with its romanticism and truth.
Can you believe we met at a bar (technically, we met outside the bar, at 2am)? I've told you the story about how I nearly didn't go. I had other Saturday night plans, and after leaving them early, I didn't see a point in trying to recreate a night anywhere else. My bestie wanted me to come meet her at our usual hangout, A Bar Named Sue, but it was nearly 12:30am and I was sure it wouldn't be worth it. My Mom, who often proves clarevoyant, convinced me with an unusually passionate urge to go:
"Jenni, why don't you go meet your friends at the bar? You never know who you might meet...you might meet someone that changes your life."
What good is reflection on decisions that lead us to life-changing circumstances? I don't believe in fatalism, but I do believe in good fortune. I am undeniably lucky that I was convinced to go to Sue the night I did. I can thank my other plans for being boring, I can thank my BFF for being persistent in wanting me to meet her, and I thank my Mom for pushing me. I have no idea what circumstances conspired on your end to get you to Sue the night you met me, but I thank all of the actors behind that decision as well.
We're just incredibly lucky, and I will never stop being grateful that I met you.
You haunt me at Sue.
You're standing outside with me and your good friend, and I'm talking
you down from your concern over a boy yelling at a girl. I'd known you 5
minutes, and my first impression of you was shaped by your pent up
boyish energy and the repeated words, "Should I go over there? Do you think
she's okay?" You can't let it go, and I finally tell you to go work your magic - one of the first things I ever said to you. You laugh and repeat my words like you're surprised I said them, and you proceed to work your mellow, reasonable wizardry on the situation, and it's diffused within 30 seconds.
You're standing in the parking lot, outside the truck we all packed into to come back to Sue and get our cars. You'd said to me on the ride over, as you and I sit shoulder to shoulder, squashed between people and the door, and with your friend sitting on your lap, "Hey, do I think I can get your number?" Knowing that everyone in the car was listening, I shyly said "sure." Now, standing in the parking lot, I don't want you to forget you asked me, and I tell you to give me your phone. I quickly put in my number and my name as "Jenni From The Bar Named Sue." You texted me right away so I'd have your phone number, too.
You're sitting on the bar stool, seriousness etched into your face as
you talk to me about my pending promotion. You tell me stories about
your promotion from Lance Corporal to Corporal, and through your story,
you're telling me that I shouldn't underestimate myself. You're taking
me seriously, and you're internalizing what I'm telling you in a way
that most wouldn't. We're both so completely into each other that when
the bartender interrupts to ask if we want more drinks, she feels the
need to say "Sorry to interrupt you two" with a knowing smile on her
face.
You're in the corner of the game room, pool stick in one hand and a beer in the other, laughing in your sexy, honest way. When you laugh it's like you're enjoying the surprise of the humor, like you never take it for granted that someone can make you smile. You catch my eye from across the pool table, where I'm talking to your best friend about how much I like you, and you ask the question of what I'm doing with your eyes. I go over to you and enjoy the closeness, telling you that Ryan is just making sure I'm as serious about you as you are about me.
Last night, as I sat with Aralynn at Sue, I'm struck by your absence. I replay scenes of you and I, and I'm a million miles from where Aralynn sits. I can't leave the scene, and I feel an impulse to take a picture of the general area that you and I had our first serious get-to-know you conversation. I can relax slightly - I've captured ghostly Cody and Jenni in a picture, and I now push it slightly aside.
I struggle to pull myself into the present, to focus on the day by day and not lose myself in memories. I feel like a terrible friend, because I seem incapable of shaking my depression over your absence. I'm so lucky that she's supportive and understands - I don't know what I'd do without her.
Is it fortunate that you and I had so little time together, or is that what's making it harder? If you and I had longer together and had time to build more place-centric memories, would I hurt like this more often? Or if you and I had time to build a more interconnected and emotionally resonant relationship, would the places become less important? I'm leaning towards the latter.
As you and I build a more interconnected and emotionally resonant relationship over 8,899 miles, I hope this gets easier. We'll build the structure of our relationship and define the edges of our pain, and we'll learn ways to work around them. We can't avoid them, and we can't change the status quo. I'm fully supportive of you, and want nothing more than to be your foundation. I'm optimistic about this accidental love story, and I wish you could feel how deeply I want this to work. You're permanently located next to my heart, and sometimes you push up on it so closely that it hurts and I can't breathe - but I'm not letting you go.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Day by Day
Thank you, Corporal Cookie - you saved me today.
I'm at Holi Festival of Colors, where the scent of jasmine weaves through a fine cloud of suspended colors - hot pink, deep purple, saffron yellow and aqua blue. Anonymous people see one another as canvases ready to beautify with a splatter of color, and there's a strong current of love and happiness surfing through the crowd. Hari Krishna themed music dances above the sounds of laughter and conversation, and a regal white temple set in front of Rocky Mountains adorns our backdrop. My best friend, lovely and shining with goodness, sends the boy who drove us here furtitive glances with flirty eyes and a feminine laugh. She's high on the rush of being so close to love, and her happiness pours out of her.
But we're in Spanish Fork. You grew up less than 2 miles from where I am, and though I've only been to your house once, I was fortunate enough to meet your parents and catch a glimpse of what your home life is when you're a civilian. I look at these colorful, beautiful people and I wonder how many Holi Festivals you've been to. I take in the mountains and the streets of Spanish Fork and daydream about you living in their presence. How can I immerse myself in the present when you exist so strongly in the past?
I know I'm being weak. I ask myself (again) if I'm strong enough to do this, to endure through years of missing you and never feeling like I'm present enough to be part of the crowd. I have a moment where I am so overwhelmed with grief that I almost fall apart. How can I fix this? Is there really nothing I can do to be by your side? Maybe it's easier to let you go.
I instantly remember that I promised you that I'd be strong. Specifically, that "you underestimate how strong I am, and that if anyone can do this, I can." I don't feel strong - I feel scared and lonely. All I want is to be here with you, blissfully laughing and throwing rich jasmine-scented colors onto each others white t-shirts. I want to be here, in this pulsing group of dancing, carefree people, with you. You make everything brighter.
If I'm not strong, I'll never have that with you. It'll fade away and it'll have been like you and I never existed. What is it that your tattoo says?
Something without passion and strength can't burn. While I don't plan on you and I burning out, I'm also fiercely protective of you and I fading away. It's not gonna happen - not while I'm a part of this. I have the strength to actively choose you everyday, and I will. I have the strength to know that if I will choose you, then one day you'll be mine again. We'll have an existence so brightly colorful and rich, and Holi Festival will be a dim, dirty mess next to you and I.
Last night, I told you I was at Sue with my bestie. I always text you what I'll be doing, knowing you won't always get to answer, but hoping that you at least draw some comfort from your girlfriend's normal life and her desire to involve you in it. Around midnight (3 P.M. the following day your time), you surprise me with a text:
So I'm standing there today at the Holi Festival, surrounded by joy and color, and I remember to be strong, because I remember you love me.
I'm at Holi Festival of Colors, where the scent of jasmine weaves through a fine cloud of suspended colors - hot pink, deep purple, saffron yellow and aqua blue. Anonymous people see one another as canvases ready to beautify with a splatter of color, and there's a strong current of love and happiness surfing through the crowd. Hari Krishna themed music dances above the sounds of laughter and conversation, and a regal white temple set in front of Rocky Mountains adorns our backdrop. My best friend, lovely and shining with goodness, sends the boy who drove us here furtitive glances with flirty eyes and a feminine laugh. She's high on the rush of being so close to love, and her happiness pours out of her.
But we're in Spanish Fork. You grew up less than 2 miles from where I am, and though I've only been to your house once, I was fortunate enough to meet your parents and catch a glimpse of what your home life is when you're a civilian. I look at these colorful, beautiful people and I wonder how many Holi Festivals you've been to. I take in the mountains and the streets of Spanish Fork and daydream about you living in their presence. How can I immerse myself in the present when you exist so strongly in the past?
I know I'm being weak. I ask myself (again) if I'm strong enough to do this, to endure through years of missing you and never feeling like I'm present enough to be part of the crowd. I have a moment where I am so overwhelmed with grief that I almost fall apart. How can I fix this? Is there really nothing I can do to be by your side? Maybe it's easier to let you go.
I instantly remember that I promised you that I'd be strong. Specifically, that "you underestimate how strong I am, and that if anyone can do this, I can." I don't feel strong - I feel scared and lonely. All I want is to be here with you, blissfully laughing and throwing rich jasmine-scented colors onto each others white t-shirts. I want to be here, in this pulsing group of dancing, carefree people, with you. You make everything brighter.
If I'm not strong, I'll never have that with you. It'll fade away and it'll have been like you and I never existed. What is it that your tattoo says?
Something without passion and strength can't burn. While I don't plan on you and I burning out, I'm also fiercely protective of you and I fading away. It's not gonna happen - not while I'm a part of this. I have the strength to actively choose you everyday, and I will. I have the strength to know that if I will choose you, then one day you'll be mine again. We'll have an existence so brightly colorful and rich, and Holi Festival will be a dim, dirty mess next to you and I.
Last night, I told you I was at Sue with my bestie. I always text you what I'll be doing, knowing you won't always get to answer, but hoping that you at least draw some comfort from your girlfriend's normal life and her desire to involve you in it. Around midnight (3 P.M. the following day your time), you surprise me with a text:
So I'm standing there today at the Holi Festival, surrounded by joy and color, and I remember to be strong, because I remember you love me.
Friday, March 29, 2013
My Status Quo
I like to think that I'm rational, cautious, and realistic about the life I have.
I know that I'm spontaneous, impulsive, and idealistic about the life I'm willing to have.
The late Joseph Campbell was an American mythologist who wrote The Power of Myth, which contains the above idea and so much more. I'm not one for defining how I operate by internalizing the philosophy of others, as I try to stay as genuine to my impulses as possible. However...I feel that Campbell's take on bliss fits pretty darn well with my objectives here.
Another from Campbell:
What is following bliss? I'm confident that it doesn't mean to follow every whim and indulge in unhealthy vices. I'm just as confident that it means trusting yourself, and allowing yourself to follow a path that you may be unsure about.
And the final Campbell thought:
I've embarked on a kind of track that I'm hoping has been there all the while, waiting for me, and that the life I'm about to live is right for me. I'm creating this blog in order to reaffirm my path of bliss, and I'm hoping to open doors where there are now walls. I'm attempting bravery, and I'm trusting that peace will follow.
Believe me, I am NOT confident about my choices. I'm second guessing myself at least once an hour, and I have moments of doubt so strong that I feel nothing but despair. But isn't following bliss about embracing a life that may contain unknowns? I'm willing to let go of the life I have planned in order to accept the life waiting for me, and I'm taking a risk that this is it, because I've known bliss since this happened into my path.
I've known Cody 21 days. Seriously. Like I said, I doubt myself hourly. But I'm making the conscious, active choice to embrace something deep in my heart, and there's this inkling that this could be something ridiculously beautiful.
I really didn't mean to feel this strongly so soon. Are these feelings doors the universe is already opening for me? I'm willing to follow them through and explore all the unknowns.
Day by day, baby. You're 8,889 miles away and you'll always be living in my tomorrow, but I've never felt closer to you. You have my heart. <3
I know that I'm spontaneous, impulsive, and idealistic about the life I'm willing to have.
The late Joseph Campbell was an American mythologist who wrote The Power of Myth, which contains the above idea and so much more. I'm not one for defining how I operate by internalizing the philosophy of others, as I try to stay as genuine to my impulses as possible. However...I feel that Campbell's take on bliss fits pretty darn well with my objectives here.
Another from Campbell:
What is following bliss? I'm confident that it doesn't mean to follow every whim and indulge in unhealthy vices. I'm just as confident that it means trusting yourself, and allowing yourself to follow a path that you may be unsure about.
And the final Campbell thought:
I've embarked on a kind of track that I'm hoping has been there all the while, waiting for me, and that the life I'm about to live is right for me. I'm creating this blog in order to reaffirm my path of bliss, and I'm hoping to open doors where there are now walls. I'm attempting bravery, and I'm trusting that peace will follow.
Believe me, I am NOT confident about my choices. I'm second guessing myself at least once an hour, and I have moments of doubt so strong that I feel nothing but despair. But isn't following bliss about embracing a life that may contain unknowns? I'm willing to let go of the life I have planned in order to accept the life waiting for me, and I'm taking a risk that this is it, because I've known bliss since this happened into my path.
I've known Cody 21 days. Seriously. Like I said, I doubt myself hourly. But I'm making the conscious, active choice to embrace something deep in my heart, and there's this inkling that this could be something ridiculously beautiful.
I really didn't mean to feel this strongly so soon. Are these feelings doors the universe is already opening for me? I'm willing to follow them through and explore all the unknowns.
Day by day, baby. You're 8,889 miles away and you'll always be living in my tomorrow, but I've never felt closer to you. You have my heart. <3
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