breaking the rules
February 28, 2004 � 2:06 a.m.

First Entry Today

Today�s Weather: Sleepless in New Jersey

Today has been a day for love.

Or rather�today was a day where love was relevant�as in most conversations I had today, were just justifications and explanations of reasons why we love.

Since Sylvie had to get inspected today (which she fucking failed by the way�how can something that is purchased be failed?) I had to get up early in the morning and ride to work with Etta. During our ride, she told me that she comes here and reads what I write, and she touched me inexplicably when she told me she thought I was a good writer. Of course I pooh-poohed her, but it made me feel special that she reads me�and appreciates.

Due to the early wake up (after about 2 hours of sleep..oye!!), I was quite loopy today at work�loud and crass and cracking jokes about nothing�giggling and bitching and having a good time. If only everyday were like today at work, I wouldn�t hate going there so much most of the time. Even Monkey was in a good mood, and I didn�t want to kill Jack at any point of the day. But because my back was still fucked up, I ended up not going to Dave and Busters with the work crew. Instead, I came home and did nothing�bored out of my mind and wishing I had gone. Luckily, I didn�t, or I would have missed an important call�which I will get into later.

When she dropped me off, Etta and me sat out in the car and talked about a lot of things. Our tastes in music, our upbringing, work drama, and finally�families. More so, why we love our families the way we do. She spoke about her father and how close she is to him and how him being sick scares the shit out of her. I spoke of my brother and how the thought of him shipping out scares the hell out of me. Then we spoke of death, and how it scares the hell out of us. Not our deaths, no, but the deaths of those we love�and hate. How devastated we would be�how lost�and on more levels I thought I would make it to with her, me and Etta saw ourselves in each other, and saw how someone else out there knows why we do what we do and understands the logic that no one else understands.

In short, we really bonded. Life opened a window, but death brought us closer.

How can anything be explained more perfectly than that?

I was sitting here, thinking about death�my parents� inevitable death, the possible death of my brothers, my grandmother�s life altering death, the painful death of my friends, and the demise of a life that had yet to truly live�my baby. When I thought of the baby, however, the morbid thoughts faded, and I began to daydream of one day having a baby�of being pregnant�giving birth�holding it in my arms�and smiling as my mom holds it in her arms for the first time with tears in her eyes. In seconds, I went from thinking of doom to promise, smiling at nothing as I thought of these things�and my friends�and of Swiz�and I thought of my love for these people�how it is different for each of them, unquestionable and vast for them�and how there�s tons of it left over to be spilled onto more people like rain�to cleanse me of my sins and give me hope for the light.

Then the phone rang.

A sweet, little voice came through the speaker and I knew it was her, though the ringer �Heaven Must Be Missing Angels� gave her away before she had a chance to speak. Instead of her usual gaiety, however, her tiny voice was dripping tears, and it ripped my heart to pieces.

Of course, it was because of him�because of his callousness�and I told her if I were there he�d be one sorry mother fucker, because as soon as she would have called me, I�d have hopped in my car, went looking for him, and kicked a bone out of his fucking narrow ass.

It pained me to hear her story, as it so paralleled my story with Cowboy�the way he ended it so cruelly�without answers�without explanations�just a half-assed apology and a bitch ass goodbye. She spoke so hopefully of him still�not really condemning him or praising him�but with understanding of him�and such an admiration grew in me for my tiny voiced friend, that I cried as she cried, wishing I was there with her to hold her close, get her drunk, and damn the man by dancing the night away.

See�what she feels�is love. That is what love should be to me�neither weak nor strong, but understanding�accepting the light and dark of a person and creating that beautiful shade of grey that only I can create�because no one can see them like I can.

No one can love them, or know why or how I love them the way that I love them, but me. And that should be the only thing that matters. I turn a blind eye to faults eventually, because I put those I love on pedestals and if they had faults�then in my eyes they would fall. So could that really be it? Is the answer to my self inflicted misery really that simple and clear? To just understand them as much as I love them�accept them and their faults without question and love them still?

But wait�isn�t that what the fuck I already do? Isn�t that where the fault lies�in that understanding�in that acceptance? Wasn�t that the reason Cowboy made it as long as he did? Because I understood him and accepted him? Didn�t he turn out to be the biggest asshole of them all by warping my love and acceptance and understanding into a weapon he bludgeoned me with until I had nothing left and then he left me because he thought I loved him too much?

Loved him too much? I didn�t love him at all�not in that way�and it still fucked me�that love�in the end.

So how do I win? What is the right damn answer? Is there just one answer, or is it different for each person�are the rules different with each person?

Can one really love anyone too much or not enough�or is it all just our perceptions? Do we reflect our shortcomings in our love and thus be doomed to make the same mistakes time again because the people change, the love changes, but we never change?

Does that even make any fucking sense?

I listened to her and these thoughts danced around in my head as I tried to not force neither my skepticism nor hope on her. I heard her cry�I heard her voice�I heard her love�and I knew�without a doubt we are connected somehow, each of us�and none of us are really as alone as we think we are�because even the most evil person loves something�even the hermit in the hills long for someone�s love.

She called for me to help her, but she honestly helped me more.

It�s okay to love him, girl�that�s just part of who we are�what we have to do�

and I think it�s about time that we just accepted that and moved on.

I love ya, girl.

I am just a phone call and plane ride away when you need me.