On Turning Twenty-Eight

I celebrated my first anniversary on the seventh. It feels strange to not be a newlywed anymore. Marriage is still relatively new to us of course, but now it no longer feels weird to be married. The first few months of marriage were pretty surreal. Whenever I said, "You are my wife. I am your husband," I couldn't be super confident that it was true. The fact that I am someone's husband still gets me every once in a while, but for the most part I'm used to that fact. What gets me now is how I continue to fall in love. It's shocking, really. Which seems weird to say because I knew I would love her more today, than I did on 1/07/10, but there are these moments where I look at her, or tell my keyboard about her, and I say to myself I just fell more in love and I am amazed all over again.

I will say that my favorite thing about the last year has been our opportunity to comfortably and confidently fall in love.

Another shocking thing is that my life actually seems easier. I expected life to be better, but not easier necessarily. There was going to be more bills, more decisions, more complications, etc., but I didn't realize how complicated my single life was. I mean, there isn't a lot in life that is as complicated as dating; stupid people and geniuses alike struggle with it. I have a great family and group of friends, but being able to talk to someone about your life isn't the same thing as having someone who is going through it with you. Chelsea knows my problems, fears, weaknesses, and so on, but not because I have told her about them (as that is the case most of the time), but because she experiences them with me. That is a huge difference, and having someone like that in your life makes it easier. Not to mention having a person there to take care of you when you are sick, and who doesn't care if you might be embellishing your illness a tad for a little extra attention, because for some damn reason they just like taking care of you. That's much easier than when I got pnuemonia a while ago and stayed in my room all alone for five days.

I now don't have to look for comfort or relief. For the most part both are right next to me; even more so with our tiny apartment.

I don't mean to say that life is a cakewalk now. Life was a kick in the drawers before and continues to be; it just doesn't hurt as much these days.

While we are talking about shocking things: I was worried that my writing would suffer after getting married. You know, the plight of the happy artist. So much of what I am interested in is what it is like to be human, and I suppose my main interest is in love. It seems like it can create more happiness than anything else in life, but also can be more destructive than hate or fear. Not revelation, I know, but that's the basis for my interest in it as a subject.

When I write I like to think about it as acting. I have spent a good portion of life watching my brother on stage. There have been times when I was little where I was scared or nervous about the person on stage because he was doing or saying something horrible and I believed that he meant it. It didn't seem like he was faking it.

I still have these moments. He's currently in Born Yesterday at Hale Center Theater, and he plays an intimidating A-hole. There is a moment where he walks on stage very angry with his girlfriend. He doesn't say anything. He stands there looking at her. It made me, and I'm sure everyone else in the theater, nervous.

The difference between those moments now and when I was little is that now I know that when I feel discomfort or unease it is a sign as to how succesful he is at acting his part. And although he doesn't say anything in the above mentioned moment, I think it may be his most succesful moment in the play. I don't think I have ever expressed what his acting has taught me about writing and art in general, because I am not a very good talker and I didn't want him to think that I believed it because I actually thought him capable of the things some of his characters do or say. He has taught me that the point to good art is not to provide an escape for the audience/reader/viewer, but it is a study of the real, and what we felt in that moment and so many others while watching him on stage is real. Even though he may be faking it, the result is not. Pretty cool.

There are people who think what I studied for a bachelors degree is awesome, and those who think that studying literature is an irresponsible use of the college years. What the people who don't get it are missing is that I was not studying fanciful fake worlds. I was studying this one.

And I am pleased with my education.

What I am trying to get at with all of this is that if I am writing a character who does or believes things I don't, the idea is not to dismiss them as evil or vulgar or wrong, but to understand them and learn from them because that is what I will want the reader to do. The world is a lot of things, and I don't believe that any of it should simply be escaped from (at least not permanently), but dealt with openly. I want to study what it is like to be that way, and then act that way while I'm writing so that when I type it I mean it. Whether it works or not, I don't know, but that is my desire.

The point is that being in a loving relationship and happy made me worry that I would lose touch with the other aspects of love and life, and be doomed to write gooey stories where dudes just gush about the person they love because that was all I knew. I thought I might lose the ability to act some parts. But it turns out that imagining life without Chelsea brings up all those feelings I was scared I would lose touch with so easily that I needn't have worried.

Writing a character that is lonely while I am in love is so much easier than writing a character that is in love while I am lonely.

I still don't like birthdays much. Hence the focus on my anniversary, probably. Chelsea decided to call it "Jeremy Day" instead to take the emphasis off of getting older and put it on the fact that I can do whatever I want today. It helps. I am not sure if there is a secret to life, but it is possible that it is finding something that makes you want to look forward. While I'd prefer to be celebrating many prior birthdays instead of my twenty-eighth, all I really want in this world is Chelsea. She wasn't there when I turned eighteen or twenty-one, so I tend to look toward the future more often these days. As long as she is with me, I don't care how hold I am.

On Turning Twenty-Seven Years One Month and Fourteen Days Old (I'm Back!)

The last time I blogged was in October and before that, August. Honestly, I shouldn't be blogging right now, either. I had planned in my head a triumphant return to the blog, but it turns out all I want to do is make the background white...

As you would expect, a lot has happened since my last post: an engagement, the holidays, like eight birthdays including my own and Chelsea's, the end of a semester, a wedding, the beginning of a new semester, moving etc.

First things first: Engagement/Marriage/Wedding

An interesting phenomena occurred when we were engaged. It seems about 93% of the people we told about the engagement (excluding friends and family) had nothing positive to say about marriage. Usually they just mentioned that they felt sorry for us, or talked about giving up our freedom and joy. I was told to run on several occasions. Many times these conversations happened in front of the spouse of the marriage basher (oh yes, forgot to mention that a lot of these people were married). Yes, they were joking, but a lot of times it was hard to tell, and hearing a husband tell us, in front of his wife, that he wishes he wasn't married, and we shouldn't make the same mistake he did, usually turned into words that we shouldn't have been present for.

We should have given them the finger for making us feel so awkward, but what can I say, we're nice people. I would like to give that overdue finger right now, however. Odds are if you are reading this you either fall into the friends and family category, or the 7%, but if not, just take it, you know you deserve it.

I would also like to thank the two stand-out acquaintances that were positive. An older gentleman from Chelsea's work responded "I love my wife." That guy kicks ass. A guy from my work who congratulated me when we passed in the stairwell said, "Marriage is a good thing. I dig it." To you two, I say thank you. Your change of pace made our days.

The lesson: When an acquaintance announces getting married try not to let your first words, or any subsequent words, be about how he or she is making a huge mistake. If the urge is too much, say congrats (or, if you can muster it, a congrats!) and walk away.

Because we wanted a ceremony focused on family we had my brother perform our ceremony. He doesn't have a marriage license, but, since having the state recognize the fact that Chelsea and I wanted to be together was secondary, that didn't matter to us. In order to fulfill said secondary objective, though, we needed to get married in the fancy state clerk's office the morning of our wedding day.

I know most people wouldn't consider getting married in the clerk's office as being a fulfillment of the best of two worlds, but for us it really was, and we did not expect it to be. We got to have the super private ceremony that we had originally planned for and then realized was not realistic, and a more public get together afterwards; we got to give traditional wedding vows, and say the "I do" which we weren't planning on and was pretty cool; we were legally married by a woman, which made my wife so very happy.

We had a great experience inside that office, and it just proves that, as my brother would tell us later on that night, All You Need Is Love. There was so much of it in that little room.

The wedding was amazing. It went off almost without a hitch; we got about as close to 100% success as can be expected, I think. It was a great day. I don't think I have or ever will feel that loved in one particular moment in time again. There were so many of our loved ones in one spot, and they were there just for Chelsea and I.

Our families worked so hard getting the place prepared before the wedding. So THANKFUL for all them. We later saw in our unedited video footage our families taking care of things the people from Noah's (reception center where the wedding took place) said they would take of, like setting up the tables, taking care of messes etc. The employees mysteriously disappeared after the ceremony. The playlist that I spent like 12 hours on, then deleted and re-did, and was so excited to listen to on my wedding day, couldn't be played because the system got screwed up and we couldn't find anyone to help fix it, and for that same reason Scene-It couldn't be played.

In the time I haven't been blogging I think I have done more growing up than I have in the past five years. My life is very different now, and so much better than what it used to be.

Speaking of growing up, I am twenty-seven years old now. Tony Kornheiser made a joke on PTI the other day, and Wilbon said that 18-24 year olds around the country are laughing hysterically. It is still weird to not be a part of that demo anymore. I didn't get the joke either. It was stranger than it should have been probably.

All right, I better get going, but stay tuned because I have a lot more I was planning to put in this post. I will do my best to get it up here ASAP.

On Turning Twenty-Five

. . .courtesy of Jack Kerouac.

"I wished I was on her bus. A pain stabbed my heart. As it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this two-bit world."

A Letter From a Work in Progress

It is no wonder why most songs, movies, and books are about love. You can be bitter about love when you are out of it, but when you are in it everyone knows there is nothing better. Sitting there in the dark with Kate I knew I loved her. I knew because I was happy. I think I was too young the last time I was happy to remember what it was like, but the feeling is now crisp and bright.

We spend most of our time hiding our weaknesses. We act brave when we’re afraid, we pick fights with people who scare us, we pretend the future isn’t there, we say we are “okay.” We perceive all this resistance we put up as strength. Then we take a wrong step somewhere and fall in love, and all the resistance is no longer needed. It’s scary because we feel weak; rather we realize we are weak. All this resistance we thought we were putting up was nothing more than hiding and we find that we haven’t grown strong at all.

Then the most dreaded word, after love, comes: Vulnerability. Before, we pretended that we were impenetrable. Nothing got in or out, but now we lower the bridge that we never told anyone existed, now there is a big gaping hole in the side of your stronghold, and we find out that we want nothing more than to tell every filthy secret about ourselves and every fear we have, in the name of love.

The third word comes: Happiness. Not so much dreaded as it is thought to be mystical—and uninteresting. Just like love, we tell ourselves we don’t want it because in the act of wanting we suggest we need something, and therein lies a weakness. So we say it doesn’t exist. We wanted to be interesting like Elliot Smith or Fitzgerald, so we drink too much and do too many drugs, and push loved ones out of our lives; anything to make ourselves feel more miserable each day. After we feel it, though, we know that being happy is much more interesting than being sad, and we realize we know more miserable people, and read more miserable authors, and listen to more miserable musicians, and less of the happy ones, not because the happy ones are so uninteresting, but because they are so rare.

And I know that in reading this letter you don’t find it as interesting or good as my other letters (as I still kinda feel that way myself), but I think that’s just because we have trained ourselves to look at these things with our head half cocked to the side, and with one hand in front of the face so as not to get a full effect, afraid of what it might do to us, and we miss what’s there.

So, like every other poor sap that has fallen in love, I have tried to explain it, and I think I did as good a job as anyone could do.

My Attempt to Decorate This Dying Day - Current Top 5 Rainy Day Songs - State of the Soul Part One

1. Soup - Blind Melon


The clothesline of cold eyes
Is washing away the face before
Now tell me what's wrong
You see everyone's gone
You gotta do your best to decorate this dying day



People move on. Some do, anyway. And it isn’t because they have finished playing their part in your life, it is because you have finished your part in theirs. Everyone moves at different speeds, and some can’t keep up, so there will always be premature breaks along the way. The slow ones will eventually stop because everyone else has crossed the horizon and they can no longer see a path or purpose.



2. Good Feeling - Violent Femmes



Good feeling
won't you stay with me just a little longer?
It always seems like your leaving
when I need you here just a little longer.
Dear lady, there's so many things that I’ve come to fear.
Little voice says I'm going crazy
to see all my worlds disappear.
Vague sketch of a fantasy
laughing at the sunrise
like he's been up all night.
Slippin and Slidin
what a good time,
but now I have to find a bed
that can take this wait.


I don’t really have a broken heart, more like unhealed—and tired. It is tired of wanting what it can’t have, and too tired to want anything else. The brain understands. It is reasonable. It knows what the right thing to do is. I guess the heart understands it all too, it just doesn’t care. It wants what it wants and there is no convincing it, and in the sorry shape that it is in you can’t blame it.



3. From Here to Never - Sparta



So don't forget
The time will come


And I'm not sure
What you'll be like


What will eyes say when I see them
Wonder what you'll grow up to see


If we have torn the map to pieces, you'll find your way home
Cause home is where you believe


There is no stopping it, so I guess I will just let it run its course and see how big of an explosion it makes this time. Should be pretty spectacular.


4. No Ha Parado De Llover - Mana


Quien detendra la lluvia en mi­
Se me ha inundado el corazon
Quien detendra la lluvia en mi, oh mi amor
Solo tu puedes pararla


Sigue lloviendo,
le sigue lloviendo el corazon
Dime que diablos voy a hacer
Sigue lloviendo,
le sigue lloviendo el corazon
Y en mis ojos no ha parado de llover

Pero dime algo, pues me estoy muriendo


I hope you know I meant what I said, and I hope you believe what I said, and I hope you don’t forget I said it.


5. Change - Blind Melon


Don't feel the suns comin' out today
its staying in, its gonna find another way.
As I sit here in this misery,
I don't think I'll ever see the sun from here.

When you feel your life ain't worth living
you've got to stand up and
take a look around you then look way up to the sky.
And when your deepest thoughts are broken,
keep on dreaming boy,
cause when you stop dreamin' it's time to die.

And as we all play parts of tomorrow,
some ways we'll work and other ways we'll play.
But I know we all can't stay here forever,
so I want to write my words on the face of today
and then they'll paint it.


The only thing left to do now is watch the rain. At least it is raining. I don't want to look up, and in the rain I don't have to. I am glad I got to it before it was too late, because the season is over.

Writing is Funny and Love is Stupid

I have had a few experiences over this summer that I would like to say has taught me a lot about stupid love. I can’t say that, however. I can say that I have had a few experiences that told me a lot of stuff I already knew about love. I’m not quite sure what I want to say about it here; I just thought talking about it could be cathartic and good for me, and writing usually brings out the things I think, but don’t know that I think—if that makes sense. I think it just warms up your brain and you can separate your thoughts and pick them out better and teach yourself about yourself, which is an addictive and always fun experience.

As they say, “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” I would guess that means that the memories of what was lost outweigh the loss itself. Maybe. But unless the other party left some of their things over at your house, or lent you money, what was gained from this now not shared love besides memories? And should memories really be chalked up in the things gained column? They seem to be the most painful part of a love lost. The memories are what make up most of the losses. They get attached to music, places, jokes, movies, games, and ideas that can no longer be fully enjoyed because they have been stained with the memories of loss. Being in love is great. Not being in love really isn’t that bad unless you were recently in love and are able to compare the two. In that case, not being in love can be suicidal, and memories do nothing but point out the incredible differences between the two.

So, what now? I am not quite sure what I have really gained from these experiences, and even though the math doesn’t add up I am sure it is better to have loved; if not, the saying would be, “It is worse to have loved and not gained than to ever have loved at all,” and that is just depressing.

A Simple Pleasure

I was walking to the campus library yesterday in the snow. I love snow, and it was snowing big flakes. The campus was really quiet, and there was hardly anyone around. I thought to myself, "This is why I like winter. For moments like these."

I began to look to the sky and pick out a snowflake up high and then try to catch it. They of course move all around and sometimes you have to adjust quite a bit to end up beneath it. So, I would catch them, look at them, watch them melt, and then look for a new one to catch. I did it about four times, before I realized what I was doing. I looked to see if anyone had been watching me. There was a person walking toward me who had just exited the library, and three or four others walking on the sidewalk perpendicular to mine. No one had noticed me that I could tell. I then looked around thinking that there might be a girl walking around doing the same thing. We could then catch each other doing the same thing, laugh at each other, find out how much we had in common, and live happily ever after.

I didn't see one, so I entered the library telling myself I didn't live in a book, and making fun of myself for thinking such funny things.