Tag Archives: love

Write to Me with Sentimental Effusion: A Rant about John and Abigail Adams.

14 Nov

I just realized something yesterday.

My abundant love of John and Abigail Adams, and the whole era of the Revolutionary War, has been with me for twelve years now. That’s over half my life time. That’s fucking incredible.

I can remember being a fifth grader, trying to convince my friends to watch 1776 with me, doing an extra credit report on John and Abigail’s family (not because I had to, because I wanted to), being disappointed that everyone recognized William Daniels as Mr. Feeney instead of John Adams, and getting into a fight with one of my best friends about who accomplished more for America, Jefferson or Adams. Since I was ten, I’ve certainly grown in my adoration. I’ve read books about John and Abigail, along with many of their letters. I’ve named characters in stories after them, and I’m working on a modern day adaption of their own story. I have a motherfucking playlist on my iPod dedicated to their relationship that I listen to fairly frequently. I’ve watched documentaries, the HBO miniseries, and, as always, the musical. Needless to say, I’m crazy about these two.

I’ve tried diligently to explain over the years why their love stands out amongst millions, but it’s rare that a friend truly listens to me on the subject. It makes me sad that people don’t understand that theirs was, truly, one of the greatest love stories of all time.

Here’s an excerpt from one of Abigail’s letters to John that seems to be most well known:

“…should I draw you the picture of my heart it would be what I hope you would still love though it contained nothing new. The early possession you obtained there, and the absolute power you have obtained over it, leaves not the smallest space unoccupied. I look back to the early days of our acquaintance and friendship as to the days of love and innocence, and, with an indescribable pleasure, I have seen near a score of years roll over our heads with an affection heightened and improved by time, nor have the dreary years of absence in the smallest degree effaced from my mind the image of the dear untitled man to whom I gave my heart.”

How is that not the most goddamn romantic thing you’ve ever heard?

Every person, in the world, should strive to find a love that is as strong, brave, and true as the love Abigail and John had for each other. They were separated for five whole years while John was in Europe – no telephones or IM or skype, like we have nowadays; five whole years of never seeing the others face or hearing their love’s voice – and yet their love persisted. Hell, they spent more time apart than together throughout the duration of their marriage, but still, just by reading the letters they wrote back and forth, it’s obvious how deeply they cared for one another and how immense their love was. Not only that, but they respected one another as intellectual equals. John often called her “my Portia” or “my Diana”, but as always, they consistently called each other “My Dearest Friend.” They never engaged in extramarital affairs and, once they were together, only ever had eyes for each other. If only people could find what Abigail and John had.

True, undeniable, total, genuine love.

“Is there no way for two friendly souls to converse together, although the bodies are 400 miles off. Yes, by letter. But I want a better communication. I want to hear you think, or to see your thoughts. The conclusion of your letter makes my heart throb more than a cannonade would. You bid me burn your letters. But I must forget you first.” – John Adams to Abigail

like crazy.

25 Oct

I just watched the film Like Crazy; a film I’ve been dying to see ever since I witnessed the trailer almost a year ago. I knew going into this film it’d be a sad one, and I see now that I was correct in thinking so.

On the one hand, it’s got me bummed because the plot revolved around a long distance relationship. My ex and I were separated for only a summer when we were together, but even in just those three months I allowed the relationship to crumble and crack. So seeing this film depict the struggles of a long distance relationship… Oof. Like a punch in the gut.

On the other hand, this movie has enforced what I already know – that I’m ready to be back in a relationship. A part of me doesn’t want to make the effort, since I know I’ll be out of Ashland in eight months. Also, I seem to have forgotten how to do this whole thing. Dating. Asking guys out. Flirting. That whole spiel. I’ve just drawn so much into myself that the idea of me approaching a guy seems… unimaginable. It doesn’t help that there isn’t anyone in my life I’d like to be with either. At this point though, I wouldn’t mind a short lived relationship. A “fling,” as it were. If I could just have someone, for the remainder of the school year, to hold my hand during the day and hold me in his arms at night, that would be perfectly lovely. It’s just been so long since I’ve felt that crazy amount of energy and passion when you meet eyes or your fingertips touch. I miss romance. I miss passion. I miss putting my heart out on the line, but it’s been broken so many times that I’m scared to put it out there again. There’s so much I want though.

I just wish someone would see me.

dramatic sigh.

22 Sep

I keep making this particular gesture: I place a fist on the left side of my chest, clench it, and then have it fly away, the fingers waggling as they trail behind the palm.

It represents the way you make me feel.

I forgot how in love with you I am, was, and always will be, even though you’ll never see me as anything more than some shy kid who sung your praises far too often on summer nights some odd years ago. I realize there are a thousand and one reasons why I will never be with you, and I suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s for the best, but still my heart dreams.

This is dumb, dumb, dumb.

A Confession.

21 Sep

Do you know what it is that you do to me? Do
you know what it feels like to observe you?
Do you know how hard it is to be in the same
room as you? Do you understand what it’s
like for me to want you? To want you to see
me? To want you to want me? To want you
to want me just like you want her?
Jesus.
Even in a room filled with a hundred other people –
at the least
– I can find you.
In the blink of an eye and a snap at the wrist
my eyes enshrine you.
My thoughts are drawn to you
like a smoker to cigarettes.
I am addicted,
and I can never get enough
and I will never get enough
and I won’t ever get enough
because I cannot bring myself
to stop this rush I
get when you’re around.
I do not dare.
It was only several years ago
you entered my world, only to ensnare
me with a simple “hello.”

You who found your way into
my life in a time when
I was so alone,
miles away from the only
place I had ever called
my home.
A green girl lost in summer.
I had no one.
I was completely on my own…
until there was you.
You.
So nice, so funny, so wonderful, so you.
And while you are not
beautiful, or overtly handsome in the
common known way,
and though you do not stand out in a crowd,
I would pick you out
every time,
every day.

Which has come to make me realize that
I do not want a college boy.
Some dumb teen turned adult, looking
for any whatsoever chance
where I will show some sign of weakness
so he can get into my pants.
No. With them I’m through. I no
longer want those insubordinate, intolerable, over indulgent  boys,
only you.
A goddamn man.
We barely know each other,
but I have been in love with you for years.
And you will never know,
and not because of age and not because of her,
but because this is one thing words and explanation
will always fail and falter.
So I stay respectively silent, I remain painfully quiet,
I lose my voice, my tongue, my peace of mind,
and do not speak…
this time.

————–*/*————–

I wrote this slam poem a year ago and then promptly tucked it away, figuring it was just that fleeting feeling of nostalgia we all suffer from on rare occasion. It took me a year to realize that, for me, this will always be a little more than just a passing phase, which I fear is more tragic than I can ever possibly say out loud. I’ll forever hide this poem in the pocket of my heart, knowing it will never be said to the one who needs to hear it most.

soon.

8 Sep

When  I was a six years old I used to run around my house singing this song to myself, expecting my prince to come sweep me off my feet.

I wish someone had told her that sixteen years down the road she’d still be waiting.

i left my heart in the sea.

20 Aug

I spoke to my father today on the phone, and we’ve made plans for my brother, him, and I to go to the beach in less than a month. Even though we’re only going for three days, I can’t wipe this grin off my face. My heart is overflowing with so much joy right at this very moment.

Early morning runs on the beach. Sitting in the grass by the stream. Grabbing coffee from the tiny cafe just up the street. Window shopping in Cannon town. Feeding the seals in the Seaside Aquarium. Playing arcade games with Anthony. Watching Miss Doubtfire and Forrest Gump at day’s end. Eating at Dooger’s. Candy shopping at Bruce’s. Sitting on the back porch and writing. True bliss.

I left my heart at Cannon Beach long ago, and there shall it forever reside.

missing kissing.

19 Aug

It’s been over a year since I’ve been kissed. Really kissed. I suppose I was kissed twice since then, but those were just inebriated signs of affection. A drunk kiss is meaningless in the light of day. I miss being kissed though. Sometimes I’ll be watching a scene in a movie where two characters are overcome with such ferocious desire that they have no choice but to succumb to their emotions or I’ll be walking down the street and see two people’s lips meet in a simple “hello” or “goodbye” or “I love you”, and I’m taken by this sudden sadness. It’s not that there’s no one out there who wants to kiss me, because I know that plenty of people exist who qualify under that category. No. I become sad because there’s no one I want to be kissing. I’m so used to there being a presence in my life to constantly throw all my affection at, and now that there is no one I’m left not knowing what to do. The last several month’s of my life has been spent fantasizing about movie stars and fictional characteres, which can only quell romantic urges for so long. But there’s no one I want here. On my summer bucket list I wrote “make out” and I now realize that’s not going to happen, because there isn’t a soul in the Rogue Valley I want to kiss. No guy here makes my heart go pitter-patter. There’s no one I’ll die if I can’t be with. Heck, there’s not even someone I’m remotely interested in kissing. I find I’d rather be kept up alone in my room than even thinking about going out and trying to meet a guy. It just seems like too much effort to go out and find someone I’m going to have to leave in a year, because I’m going to move up to Portland and down to LA, and no guy is going to get in my way of achieving my dreams. I don’t want to be tied down. I’m not ready for that commitment. So I guess I’m going to accept that this year is going to be a long, lonely road. I’ll have my writing, my studies, my books, and my shows to keep me occupied. I can do this. I don’t need to be in a relationship.

But I can’t help missing kissing.