separate houses

moment of truth. so this is leaving a life of dependency. i find myself seeing the old me in new colors. we can be happy in separate houses of happiness. paint the walls whatever we want and still be neighbors. this is understanding. this is the purest thing i can think of. i don't know how i didn't see, don't know why i let it tie me down. i have found the answer, and i am freeing myself with it.

yet to come

There's something aggravating about change--aside from the fact that it often causes one to spin in circles and pull out hair. When a change comes, you can feel it pretty intensely. As Doris from The Owl and the Pussycat would say, "I find it enervating." Not always. Some change is good. And when it's good you want to share it with the world. When it's bad sometimes you also want to share it with the world, but with a different response.

Here's the problem: you can never own your change. It does not belong to you. You can express yourself a thousand ways and feel the change moving your world, you can let the experience influence everything around you. But it's not yours. And do you want to know why?

It's because it didn't happen to you first.

I'm getting married in 4 months and 1 week. This is exciting! Right? I mean, it's not every day that people get... oh. Right. People get married all the time. Not a big deal to most people--especially people who are jaded by bad past relationships.

Another example: I just got a credit card. In order for wedding planning to go easier, and to make it home for spring break, I applied for an Alaska Airlines card. My parents have had one for many years and after a few weeks of deliberation I filled out the form, and was approved less than 24-hours later. The desire to post it as my Facebook status was almost unbearable. "Hello entire-social-network! I have a credit card! I'm going to buy things with it and hate myself for it later!" This is not exciting. It is, because it's another step into adulthood. But I know plenty of people younger than me who have had credit cards for years, and for reasons not nearly as good as mine.

Change is also not exclusive. Yes, there is empathy. But empathy only goes so far. You know who is most excited about babies? Pregnant people, or people trying to get pregnant. The people who are most excited about new haircuts, are the people sitting in salon chairs. The people feeling most overwhelmed by doctorate programs, are the people who are about to get a "PhD" next to their name.

And people most thrilled to be planning a wedding, are the people who are about to get married, tie the knot, etc.

Yes, someday, I will stop mentioning the wedding in every blog post. I know that I'm not the first person to get married. But for now, I am excited, and while this change is not exclusive to me or exciting to everyone else I am going to take full advantage of these happy feelings.

Tuuuurn and face the change, ch-ch-changes...

How could you be so impartial

We had a blizzard last week. The entire world has probably not realized this, due to the many desserts the Earth employs and the oceans where other sorts of natural catastrophes occur, but Illinois actually has the capability of declaring a "state of disaster" after a blizzard. School was closed for 2.5 days and the campus as covered in several feet of crappy, non-packing, anti-snowman white stuff.

Now, I don't know about you, but this is a memorable thing. And I wish I could say it was memorable simply because I built a snowman that mistakenly had female body parts, and because the Saturday after I went to the Chicago Botanic Gardens and they were glorious, and because I watched a lot of movies and drank a lot of hot chocolate and took a lot of naps. However, this is not the case.

Things happen in a blizzard. Conversations, mostly, if you're trapped on-campus. And most of these conversations I will not relay to you, for privacy's sake.

But I can say that I thought a lot about marriage, and relationships, and love. Two days ago I was sitting at the computer watching the post-blizzard snow fall softly onto the already 10' high hills of plowed grossness. My heart was suddenly burdened by a whole nature of love-ly things. Friends who have perhaps chosen badly, or have chosen well but act badly. I thought about my relationship with Joseph and the impending date of our wedding.

I had an epiphany in the snow-sighted moment: 4 1/2 months is not a long time. That's how long I have left of my unmarried life. In the brought spectrum of my existence, whether it be just these 22.5 years or if I live to be 80, 4 1/2 months is a tiny speck in which to fulfill any so-called "last requests" and to get all my prideful independence (as opposed to the normal independence) out of my system.

I'm not married yet. So I don't have some universal wisdom for you. I haven't yet experienced any marital adventures. But I know what love is, and what it's supposed to look like, and what it's not supposed to look like.

So here is my plea:
If you love each other, make it unbending love. Don't let it swerve in the face of conflict or misunderstanding.
If you love other, speak to each other. Don't say just what you want to say, but what the other person needs to hear. Be unselfish with your words, don't hold back just because you don't want the other person to "feel bad."
If you love each other, hold each other up in a moment of weakness, even if it's emotional weakness or a lifelong struggle that won't cease just because of your love. Comfort the other even if it seems ineffective.
If you love each other, take care of each other. Not because you will be taken care of in return but because your own contentment relies on the other person's well-being.
If you love each other, be willing to sacrifice anything and everything.
I did not say "sacrifice anything and everything."
Be willing.
Not willful.
WILLING.