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i feel love love love

Today I am looking forward to: Getting all my coursework done and mailed and out of the way.

Today I can be generous by: Hanging up the wet laundry and doing the washing up so Z doesn't have to when he gets home from work.

One thing I like about myself is: More frequently than not I am kind.

Three things I am grateful for: Ever since seeing The Constant Gardener I have been passionately grateful for the facts that 1) Z is alive and well 2) I am alive and well 3) Neither of us live in Africa.

Bonus Happiness: I have learned a nifty way of securing my hair with chopsticks.

A few days ago Z and I went to see The Constant Gardener the duration of which [possibly amplified by menstruation] I spent crying [although dignified crying, with no noise or snot or other drawbacks of emotionality]. Movies really shake me up profoundly [a fact Z has learnt at great elaboration since my resentment at being persuaded to see King Kong and spend an hour running about in jungles dodging dinosaurs] because very often I completely merge with the characters on screen. I mean I know I am still me and the movie is a story but there's a part of me that feels like it's connected to everyone and it becomes vividly part of every story I see until I feel like the movie is happening to me. And afterwards I emerge as though from an intense dream groggy and shaky feeling as though I've just lived through that film which is fair enough with comedies and more problematic with dramas (to say nothing of action films which my ever twitchier nervous system is no longer able to take).

This is not so with every movie. I can watch most things on the telly as long as there are lots of noise and lights on and distracting kittens trying to climb on top of my head which are all useful reminders of the fact that the film and I are distinct entities and it's all just silly entertainment. But when I enter a big dark room and all the lights go off and a huge screen lights up then I always know I am in for a rollercoaster.

Like a rollercoaster it is thrilling and frightening in equal measure [although in the case of King Kong more stress than reward let me tell you; I am not cut out for jungle chases]. I am plunged into this other world where the story grips me and I know I won't be able to leave until the story is done. And leaving, being permitted to leave is also a gift and a vivid illustration in gratitude for all the things that haven't happened to me.

Since The Constant Gardener my relationship has been a constant venting ground for my passion and happiness at being alive and untortured and not pursued by tribemen on guns and stuff. And Z too is alive! Magically and gloriously unhurt and alive and within reach. My relationship has always been loving but it is now galloping towards dizzying passion because in the valley of the shadow of death joinings are urgent and feverish and bittersweet. Every moment is the last moment and the only moment and love pours out from me in incadescent waves burningly, urgently until I am completely emptied.

I feel like my love for him has magnified itself a hundred fold from the first moment when I began to feel tenderness and affection. I've been resisting my long slow downwards spiral towards total passion and surrender [I do try to at least preserve a semblance of dignity] but now I am so full and rich and alive with love that I want to shout about it and I do my best to instead of breakfast pour it into him before work each morning so that he goes in there feeling cheerful and the backstabbing bastards don't get him down.

On the other hand the cat avoids my moods of blazing fondness as they make me apt to swoop down and sweep it up and cover its fluffy little head with kisses. Milica appreciates petting but is wary of my passion despite proneness to passions of his own in which he comes galloping into the house to bound into my arms and demand affection.
I've noticed the cat is different with Z and me. With Z he is a lot more playful, with me he is a lot more cuddly.

In the last week I've been entertaining visitors and out of Barnet and my return showed me Milica's newest trick: he hides under the bed and miaows pathetically until you get down to see what's wrong at which point he leaps out of the bed with all paws outstretched like a flying squirrel and then gallops off to hide under the living room sofa *

*except he is too big to get all the way under it now and his butt sticks out but I try not to let on that I see that he looks ridiculous.


Feb. 2nd, 2006 03:28 pm (UTC)
Re: the only bit i relate to in this entry...
*sends you love to counteract the bad vibes of backstabby bastardishness*
Feb. 2nd, 2006 04:14 pm (UTC)
*updates about backstabby bastards*
*is soothed by the love*


deep sky, firefly

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