We are more than the sum of our parts

How to expound on this place I've found myself in.

I'm in love with the most amazing human that I've ever met.

     I thought there would be trepidation. Fear quaking at the center of me. Worries spilling into my grey matter at night and causing me bizarre visions in my sleep.  What I thought were loving relationships from my past have always turned out .... so well. 

     Instead I find myself strangely at ease. The only quaking that is happening are the flutters of butterflies in my solar plexus every time I see him.  I'm usually guarded about these things.  A to- myself type person.  I give fleeting details.  fearful of judgement or outside influences. Honestly. this time..  nothing can touch it.  There is no last time, or next time... because this is in a class by itself. Everything before was pretense.
   

     For the first time in many years I'm exceptionally happy.  Like disgustingly busting at the seems kind of happy. It's flat out ridiculous and I'm sure that over half of my friends feel the need to be sick when they're around me.  I radiate squishy, horrible, fluffy rays of pure and utter gay that it's ridiculous.  Also.. it permeates all things!  I spent the majority of my Yule tide shopping hunting down the crankiest, most out of sorts retail gurus... and forcing holiday cheer on them in cheeky silly ways until they smiled and shat out their own fluffy ray of flowers and rainbows.
As a cynic and all around bitter jaded person... I'm disgusted with myself. ......... As a girl absolutely smitten it is all I want.  More specifically, he is everything I had ever dreamed.


On a different note work is cranking out some interesting drama.
I'm forced to on a legal (and a covering my own ass agenda)  be exceptionally vague but would like to mention it here so that I can have some memorial record of the when/wheres of this event.
I'm glad to at least have some very close and wonderful team mates to lean on and watch my back.
and still it can't bring me down.

Also, dirty confession... I really like the sound of music.  not the music but the squishy tortured love story, and because Christopher Plumber was super handsome back in the day, and the last time he won an oscar he gave one of the most hilarious speeches ever.

over and out.

I can't seem to wake up. Do I want to?

     It's been well over a year since I have posted to this blog space.  Never having forgotten about it, but as life will it went through slow and busy cycles. Kid related, job related... but of all the things I did not 'relate' to, it was the heart.

     Not to say I was alone.  I have my family and my son.  My true friends.. the best beasts in the world.  However to be honest, I came to this realization... I was going to be alone romantically for the rest of my life. (a drastic statement for sure) Mind you this didn't involve me flinging myself onto a sofa with the back of my hand on my forehead or some such. It was a quiet, resolute thing that happened in the dusky hours between night and day.  It didn't exist only moments ago.... then suddenly, it lived there. I wasn't upset by this. In fact there was a luke warm sense of acceptance.  I must have trudged about this way since I was last here, typing out my nonsense to you. I worked, ate, slept, played with Alexander, joked, dreamed, showered, hated, fought, danced, wept. but not loved

     As the best things life always do, something hit me out of the blue. While I wasn't looking.  A little bird smacking up against the glass of my soul. HAHAH.  what an awful image that is.  I'll leave this nebulous a bit because I don't want to jinx what I have going.  It in no way seems frivolous or fleeting, but I'd rather be safe than sorry about this one.  But I'm swelling full of something mysterious.  Someone has said to me (and they should rightly know) that it feels as if "I've found something that I had no idea that i had lost, but was desperately needed"

     I'm attempting not to get ahead of myself.  It sounds so psychotic when put down like this.  I'm sure that I could flower something up. Something persuasive so the random reader doesnt read this as something so up and manic that they don't understand. But somehow ... I can't muster up enough to care about what anyone else seems to think about this.  It's separate and magnetic and addictive and maddening and terrifying and erotic, and serene and absolutely all encompassing.  Us commitment junkies have nightmares about this... but I can't seem to recall exactly why.  I just know that on a cellular level, ever bit of me is pulled towards this maddening man.
     Now to convince the man to let me paint him.