As soon as I told her, she said she was coming back. My decision was thrown off once again. I can’t stay for her, but at the back of my mind, I wonder if at least it would be bearable.
And bearable looks better on transcripts.
After I talked to Mom, in circles, as usual, I cried at Friday night television. The show, Scrubs, a comedy, portrayed a dying woman and the doctor who was upset and afraid for her to die. He made her a list of all the things that he wanted her to do before she died. She told him she’d done all of those and then told him to take some time for himself.
And that’s when it hit me.
I want to come home.
I read all of my archives, of this blog and my others, and I realize that they convey a large sense of discomfort. And I am a natural complainer, but not usually about things like this. I feel like my own soul is begging to leave here, and my writing displays that.
So,
I know where I want to be, and I know where I should be, and those are two very different places.
I think that I will know as soon as I have seen Denver once again.
I’m leaving for Oregon on Wednesday, and until then, I am focusing on staying the course. I asked Danny, just as I asked Mom, and he told me that whatever choice I made was the right choice.
I almost want someone to tell me exactly what to do. But then again, it’s not like I’d listen to them.

A sort of insomnia has claimed my night. Sitting in bed, laying next to the teddy bear I’ve loved since I was little, a penny to remind me of him, and my phone, of course. Sex and the City playing on my tv. Season five, Carrie dates the city the whole time.
My mom didn’t want me to take Buddy with me when I went to Chicago, but now that I have him, I am realizing that there is a point at which the teddy bear you’ve loved since forever has to go. And I will never reach it. I told him that Buddy was falling apart, and he told me he’d buy me a new one. That’s the thing, though, nothing can replace him, not ever. He’s the grossly gray, ripped and see-through love of my life. He’s here with me, he smells like home, and I love him. And if he buys me a new one, I’ll add him him next to my other pillows, but he won’t ever be Buddy. Maybe.
I also can’t wait. Nine days until Oregon. I’ve been sitting here lately, contemplating my life, reading old issues of Cosmopolitan, thinking about him. And me. And where we’re going. I’ve done the lists, of pros and cons, added them up, weighed risks and counted my options. And after all of that, I’m not done yet. I’m going to give this my all.
Low battery.
Too much thinking and not nearly enough thought.
But…before I go, I will add to my strange new optimistic outlook on love.
Don’t judge me. You were in love once. Or maybe you still are.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
~William Shakespeare, Mid-Summer Night’s Dream, 1595

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939, translated from French by Lewis Galantière

We loved with a love that was more than love. ~Edgar Allan Poe

Goodnight, moon.

The city has a pulse of its own. There is no explaining the rush, the way things move, the way that everything is so close, packed in, on top of everything. The faces, so close together, yet anonymous. A girl sits on the train, sick, and then man across from her hands her a bag. They do not speak. Her unspoken gratitude hangs in the air, dispersed with the opening of the trains and the influx of new people, dressed in costumes. Cars pass me as I walk down the street, blaring music, yelling, loving Saturday night.
I love the quick rush, but more than that, I love the splash of the water against the concrete that separates the city from the lake. I love the way it hits the beaches, little waves onto a little beach. I love the way that you can see the sky from there, green grass and trees. Somewhere, along that path that leads to peace and everywhere, there is a Peace Garden. I’ll never get to it, but I want to. Something made it catch my attention from the road, a small enclave in the middle of such a busy world.
I am not happy unless I’m near the lake, and I realize that I cannot live there forever. I cannot spend my winter huddled in the Peace Garden, I cannot wait for spring on the path, watching the waves and the lake turn gray against the sky.
I am coming home. It’s been long enough. I’m giving up Chicago, the lake, and the red line so that I can be happy.
August seems so long ago, it’s been a long time since. It’s not him, I know that’s your first thought. He’s fine, we’re fine. I’m tired, always, about to be left alone with an alcoholic-depressive for spring semester. I won’t be alright, if I have to do that. I’ve been slipping back into it for two months. I didn’t think that it would ever happen again, not to me. I’m more detached than ever. I am numb, angry for no reason, unhealthy. Depression, while I live in prime real estate. Who would have thought.
When I called her to tell her what I wanted to do, and for the first time, as I discussed all of the options and weighed them out in my head, I felt something. I felt happy, sort of. Relieved. Lighter.
I miss the mountains.
Emily can’t come back. I’ll wilt.
I have nothing left to write. I sit down and my mind is blank. I think all the time, it never shuts off. I’m worrying about a million different things, about everything, about Mom, Danny, Katie, Mike, cancer, life, careers, schoolwork…..It never stops. I’m more alone than ever, and I’m surrounded on all sides by people. I don’t want to know the people that I do, I make excuses not to hang out.
I’m taking spring semester off, sort of. I’ll be living at home, working, and going to school. But just Metro, to keep my brain working, and to not waste money. Applications are going out, to schools, begging acceptance. They’ll respond, and my life will continue. I’m not quitting college, I’m adjusting.
Don’t say anything. Just realize that no education is worth losing your sanity for. Loyola soon will be nothing but a memory, a past life, and I can settle down and sleep, and breathe. Breathe.
I just want to feel okay again.
I love Chicago. But I love Denver more.

After spending 8 hours clipping, picking, rearranging, organizing, and fiddling, I have finally produced this masterpiece (and I only say masterpiece because I rarely try this hard at anything….and for having no idea what I was doing, I think I did well).

Mumu, when you go to watch it, click on the box (instead of the little “play” symbol in the middle of it) and then once you’re at the YouTube site, you can make it full screen. Turn up your speakers, there’s pretty music too. There’s a little box on the bottom that if you click it will make it full screen. Good luck! (and let me know what you think….he still hasn’t seen it. I’m waiting until I go to Oregon to show him)

For your viewing pleasure, I present: Love, or something like it

I made a movie this morning. I’ll show you all at Thanksgiving. It’s a compilation of my pictures and I’m going to show Danny on my next visit.
Surgery has been scheduled!
Relief.
Journey today to get stuff out of storage.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
-Friedrich Nietzsche

Love is everything it’s cracked up to be…It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.
-Erica Jong

Strange dreams have plagued my sleep the past nights.
I am not sure why, and it’s overflowing into my waking moments.
I am worried, about him and her, the closest people to me.
I am on guard, constantly, hovering between the edge of anxiety and a perfect calm.
Moods are mellow, there is no joy, no pain.
Only the constant reminder of the future stays my course,
drawing my attention elsewhere.
What good is anything if you’re not really there? If you pay no notice to the present?
If you can’t concentrate? If you don’t know anything, can’t process anything, can’t think of anything else but everything flowing through your mind at once?

We played with makeup one night….this is what happened.

You never can keep the beautiful feeling for too long.
News this morning broke my heart.
I’ll be back home soon to take care of things.
If things get bad enough, I’ll stay for longer.
I don’t even know what to do.
There is nothing to do, but wait.
He was brokenhearted too at the news.
I made her promise everything would be okay.
She did, but it took her too long.
I’m scared.
I cried for too long.
I couldn’t breathe. It was one of those.
Make it okay, please.
I don’t pray, but I might start.
I told Katie, and she cried.

It’s even greener out here than I expected. As midnight pushed toward morning late Thursday, I came up with an idea that sounded crazy at the time but actually worked out for the better. My flights from Chicago to Denver to Portland were scheduled to commence at 7pm Friday, thus allowing me to attend classes. However, one class was canceled, and since I was only missing two, I figured why not try and get on an earlier flight. The first one to leave Chicago Midway is at 6, and so as dawn crept up on the sleeping city, I was hurtling under State Street in a train bound for the airport. I stood on the outdoor platform of the second train, counting seconds, listening to music not meant for 4:30 am, anything to stay awake.
I made it! The first flight was nice; I sat in the aisle of the first row, which means leg room! There was a lesbian couple next to me attending a wedding in Denver, so we talked for awhile, and then eventually I passed out in my typical plane-sleep position. My head was on my knees, and so the couple next to me thought I was getting sick and tried to help me.
The next flight was sort of successful as well. It didn’t strike me as early, even though it was only 8 in the morning. We sat on the runway for the better part of an hour, me stuck between a thin lady and a huge smelly man who kept talking to me. I hate forced airplane conversations with a passion. I mean, it’s nice to talk and all, but it’s not an inquisition and no I don’t care if your daughter has her own business!
Danny met me at the airport. I was a little worried I would walk right past him in the airport, but I most definitely did not. He hugged me, and we stayed that way for a minute as people flowed around us. It was perfect.
They have their version of the Light Rail here. It’s smoother than the El, and more like the Light Rail. We rode that from the airport to downtown Portland and then got on a bus to his school. It’s beautiful. It’s like something out of a fantasy novel. Green grass, trees, little muddy enclaves for students to disappear into. It’s wonderful, hilly and damp, green turning to orange and red, overcast skies shedding gray light. At times, when the sun comes out, the forests sort of glisten.
We spent Friday meeting his friends. They are very nice. That was inadequate. I’ve been typing the same sentence now for at least two minutes because I’m not sure what to say. They’re fun. It’s been such a perfect long weekend.
Adventure on the way to the hotel. Cab ride, train, and finally the hotel itself. Let me say, you get what you pay for. It was like being back in the 70s. Literally. I think parts of that room were around then, maybe. The V-chip was set so that we couldn’t watch any G rated tv, so we missed some great stuff on Animal Planet and Discovery. I’m not even kidding. We did get to see Meekat Manor, though, and our favorite meerkat died. That was sad. And then I fell asleep.
Saturday we just laid around and watched tv. I wanted to take a bath but then realized there was absolutely no way that was going to happen.
It’s been so wonderful. I’m so much more comfortable with being away from him, now, I think, but time will iron that out.
Tuesday morning, we cried our eyes out on the way to the airport. Once we got there, we stood there crying against each other’s necks for a good ten minutes. Finally, I realized I should probably check in and then we’d have more time to just sit and say goodbye. He walked with me up to the counter, and once I got there, the man couldn’t find my reservation. I was sure I bought the tickets, so once he found it, he looked at me and said: “you’re not supposed to be here.” I was like, well, why not? and he said: “your flight isn’t until tomorrow. there’s no way you’re going to be able to get out of here today.”
danny kissed me right then, and picked me up and swung me around. The man at the counter seemed relieved that I wasn’t sad. I looked at him and said “this is the best news I’ve heard all day.”
So we went back to Lewis and Clark.
On Saturday night, a woman came up to us in a pizza restaurant. She had talked to Danny for a minute previously, and she introduced herself. She said was “Vickie, I’m no one” and then proceeded to tell me that I was absolutely beautiful and that we seemed happy. Then, as she was leaving, she tapped Danny on the knee and said, “count your lucky stars hippie boy.”
And then, oddly enough, the next day on the bus, a man shook Danny’s hand and told him that we were a cute couple.
He took me for walks through the forest, and down this beautiful path, and to the reflecting pool. The day that I was supposed to leave, but didn’t, Mount Hood was remarkably clear. It was ringed with clouds; they just seemed to part around it, like some sort of purple and yellow halo. I tried to take pictures, but Danny didn’t have his camera, so we had to use my camera phone one.
I’ll post them, eventually.
The campus is beautiful. Everyone there is so nice and laid back. It’s nothing like Chicago, at all. There are no blond girls with big boobs. Everyone is doing their own thing. One day, we went through some trees on the other side of a lawn, and walked up some stairs into them. Inside, it was like another world. We were surrounded on both sides by trees, but there was a path through it. We got to a clearing, where the sunlight could get in and the branches made natural sitting spots. I looked back, where we had come from, and saw that it was a singular path leading out of the trees. It is beautiful. The trees are starting to change colors, going from delicious green to a nice rusty red and yellow.
I was worried about this whole relationship on Thursday. I was freaking out that he didn’t love me for some reason. I was nervous, I think, to meet his friends and see the people who get to see him everyday and now I think I’m okay with that. I am much calmer about things.
This is something weird. This feeling is the kind of feeling that people only get in movies. We’re in sync with every aspect of everything. We both think about the future. He makes me laugh. He thinks I’m cute and funny and smart. (He told me.) He kisses my forehead, and then each of my cheeks, and then the tip of my nose every morning.
We sat in his room watching a movie one day and it just turned into us laying there laughing and talking. I miss that.
I met all of his friends, and got along with most of them. I had so much fun. His roommate, eh, not so much. He’s passive aggressive and sort of annoying. He was most definitely not happy about me being there, and especially not when I told him I was staying one more night.
But I haven’t been this happy since I left for school. Everything sort of fits into place again. This morning was horrible, especially. When we woke up, it sort of hit me. He was crying before we even left. I was packing, and I looked up, and he wasn’t looking at me. I looked and saw tears.
It killed me. I started crying, too.
I’m not spending any money this month so we can split plane tickets so we don’t have to spend 44 days apart. It just hurts too much. We agree.
Yay! I didn’t think this would work. And it is. We’re good. I was reassured this weekend. It was like we’d never been apart.
Pictures up soon!
This was updated Wednesday night. Late.