July 7th, 2003


Intelligent posts to resume at unspecified future time. And now for something completely different.

I am overwhelmed.

He's contacting headhunters in the local area. Considering leaving his career, his friends, his home and everything else, and uprooting a 13 year-old rock star boy just to be with me.

The ladies in my office are planning my wedding and pregnancies. But that's what they do.

I keep getting these moments where I dig my heels into the dirt and say WHOA. Hold on. Too fast.

He's fine with that. "It's not a question of destination, it's just the speed at which we get there."

I still think about the pirate. It drives me crazy.

"What kind of a pirate would let such a treasure pass by?"

He brought me breakfast in bed.

He thinks I'm amazing. And tells me so. In many ways.

And reads my mind. No, really. It freaks me out, and rightly so.

He hasn't a ounce of jealousy in him.

His eyes go on forever.

He simply astounds me with his supercalifragilisticexpialadociousness.

Colour me stunned for twenty rounds.

This nonsmoking thing has me feeling trippy all the time.

And I don't feel like I can breathe.

But overall, everything feels right. Or rightish, if I can just get my brain to work right. Right?

OK, rightish. Something isn't quite right. I think it's me.

This whole experience has been a tremendous mindfuck.

My intuition failed me. Flat out failed me. I never saw him coming.

He's on a plane now. And I miss him already.

On the twelfth night, he returns for Midsummer.
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    Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be? I can feel you breathe. Just breathe.
rubbah and horns

(no subject)

His plane still hasn't left the runway. It was due for takeoff at 2:30p.

However, they're not letting him off the plane.

Which means he'll miss his connecting flight, and have to stay overnight in DC.

How sucky is that?!!

I knew I should have set all the clocks back and made him miss his flight in the first place.
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rubbah and horns

(no subject)

I have a little mantra that I say whenever I need a parking space.

I am a flake. But I am a flake who is never without a parking space.

4:16p - me to him via text messaging:
I am now chanting my "allow Paul to deplane" mantra.

4:26p - him to me via text messaging:
It worked! You made a lot of fellow travelers happy! I'll call you from the terminal.

I am now chanting my "let ldy win the freaking lottery" mantra.
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