C**t

. Status quo is the strongest force in the universe. In this sense, logically, liberalism is insanity; conservatism, as a metaphysical principle, is the only reality. Liberation is a dream. But it's one worth fighting for.

. I never, ever thought it possible that by giving it all up, I'd bring it all in.

. Every day, I am grateful that I return to my apartment. Because it is mine.

. I read an article yesterday about Guy Ritchie. He has three lines that he lives by. He revealed two, and concealed the third. This bothers me in a way that I cannot fully express. If you've got an idea to share, fucking share it.

. I am really, really impressed with the voice I use to talk to my dog, and how much I think I sound like a little kid, with the way I phrase words. I once made my ex-boyfriend choke on his food because I used that voice on him, and so, literally, he could have died from how cute he thought I was.

. This voice would probably annoy the shit out of someone else.

. But then again, maybe they would just end up choking. Just a little. Just enough to make it count.

. Thanks to him, I've discovered a predilection for really filthy, sexist jokes. And I'm loving it. If you have a donkey, and I have a rooster, and your donkey eats my rooster, what do you have? (Holler if you know this.)

. I feel better when I don't eat meat products.

. And yet, I crave steak, with garlic butter, parsley, and fat rinds every day, at least once a day.

. My principles on the matter are as slippery as the butter sliding off the steak I'm eating right now.

. Today I realized what a fucking airhead I sound like when I make bold declarations like "I'm a vegan." I've learned to shut up about it all so at least if I'm being a big flake, no one else knows.

. On that note, I'm pretty convinced that if you have to declare it, it's not true. Your actions would speak for your words.

. (damn, that was good.)

. Every single time, I've thought, "I'm gonna marry him." It's become something else now. I'm okay with not knowing the end. The fact is, since I'm not sure I can change any of it, I'd rather not have the guilt on top of it.

. It took one and a half years to go from denying it to accepting it, and everything in between. The priest told me, "Remember the stages of grief, so that when it happens again, you're better-prepared." That was the rub: it's going to happen again.

. I disagree with death, so I disagree with life. That's a hard thing to live with. You're always denying and rejecting the things that are all around you. The seeds that are being sown every moment, and the fruits that they are bearing, you are burning. It's a very combative way to live life. But it gives me something to think, and it gives me something to fight. And that is important.

. I've cursed existence and God a great deal. I'm not ashamed of it. But someday, if I'm burning in hell (fingers crossed), well, that's just gonna add fuel to the fire. Literally.

. Joy said in the car yesterday, "You know, it was a really hard day for all of us, but I've never lost somebody that I've been really, really close to." It dawned on me that I lost the person that I was closest to in the whole world.

. It's a ridiculous thing to have to resurrect from. I guess it gives me an interesting story to tell, but the problem is, it's not a story I want to be telling.

. The beauty is that you build your life around someone, and this gives your existence incredible meaning, more than you'd ever known or thought possible. The bitch of it is that when they go, you go with them. I've had to learn how to be a person again, since this. One part of you cannot die; all of you dies, and then all of you has to be reborn. You cannot break off a part from the whole.

. In a sense, then, you choose your own death, and it's a reflection of your life, of your mind. For him, it was, "This is the way it is; I'm right, and no one can convince me otherwise." And then, no one could. And we were suddenly convicted of something that wasn't even on the table. I could have stopped it, maybe. I maybe could have interceded. Why didn't I, then? Because I didn't believe him. Well, now, I'm convinced.

. It was while running on the treadmill that I realized that he's gone, and that I don't have a feeling about it. I'm not sure that that's a good thing. But considering how much my heart hurt over it, maybe it's a great thing.

. I'm not sure if I had the extra beat before it happened, but I know that at the most intense period of grieving, or really, right after that, I went to the doctor because my heart was behaving strangely. I believe that the grief caused it, caused the actual sickness of the heart, caused what they think is a tear in the muscle.

. I hear myself think this and start to feel sorry for myself, but the fact is, I wanted to cause myself that pain. Because I believe that he felt it, and I wanted to be with him, even if it was in pain.

. There are two roads to go down with him: life or death. If I choose him, I choose death. I have to let him go. Even he knew not what he did. I like to believe that after, now after his death, he knows differently. But that's a lot to like to believe.

. I am so, incredibly, unbelievably blessed by the people in my life, and am especially re-blessed by the reintroduction of old friends to my life, after many years. I'm massively thankful for all of you, even if you can't handle me right now. It will come together soon.

. I am learning what it means to be loved and treated well by people. And more importantly, to accept it, because I know that I am deserving of it.

. It's a very simple thing, really: when you reject what you are given, you stop getting it. You'll get another chance later, because that is just how life works, but really, you've got to accept it. You've got to embrace it. Give it a bear hug and fucking mean it. This is what it means to have grace: to accept the invitation to be beautiful.

. This is something that is many, many years in the making, and yet, its effect is retrograde in experience. It shows me how much others have always been this way towards me, and now my life, seen through a different lens, is infinitely, instantly, like a kaleidoscope of richness and tenderness.

. I thought I saw him at the train station. He was sitting on a stool at the bar. And suddenly I felt that it was the end of a movie. And it was a happy ending.

. I wanted to tell her off. After it had happened, I wanted to have looked her in the eyes and said "You're going to apologize to my friend, then you're going to leave and you're going to take your shitty money elsewhere." But I was in shock. I was so shocked at her casual cruelty, that I couldn't even look up at her. I'm ashamed at my weakness.

. I need to pause before reacting. I also need to improve my reactions.

. Basically, I need to be a lot better at being a raging c**t.

. I have film rolls of him from a few years ago. They may have disintegrated by now. I remember the pictures themselves, but it's not enough. It's never going to be enough.

. The CD he made me is the only thing he ever gave me. I thought of loaning it to a friend and it seemed to me that I was being asked to give up a vital organ. I didn't ever, ever want it out of my possession. Now, I really could give a shit.

. I click really well with the smart, bookish girls that come in, the ones who are really intellectual and really funny. I don't click so much with many of the other ones.

. I firmly believe in saving yourself.

. But I believe that if you can change someone, then you have saved them.

. Nothing gives me such purpose and hope as thinking this. If it's in increments, if it's by altering them in even some small way, then it's like my job is done. Life is empty if I remove that possibility. If this makes me ragingly, egregiously codependent, then, oh well.

. I try as much as possible to practice radical forgiveness. But other times, it's really a good thing to not let someone back in so quickly.

. I don't understand being hurt so much by someone that you couldn't have them in your life. Unless it's a type of physical, or mental, or sexual abuse, or they stole from you, or you just can't stand them, then I just can't understand how you wouldn't want someone who was a friend to not be in your life. What could ever be that bad? Maybe things end out of guilt, more than they do out of perceived receipt of pain.