Tag Archives: romance

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.

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.

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.

a dream is a wish your heart makes.

9 Aug

Last night I dreamt I was ridiculously in love with Jon Stewart which, okay, sounds pretty much like every day of my life, but there was so much more to it than that.

The first half of the dream I was just a fan of his, and along with a bunch of other fans we were trying to get fan mail to him. I slightly remember ending up in the same car (or train car) as him for some reason (there is the distinct possibility I was a creeper and stalked him), but I don’t really remember the purpose of that plot point at all.

Then the dream gets fuzzy, and I don’t really remember what happened in the middle of it. Suddenly I’m attending Jon Stewart’s wedding to Beyonce (I don’t even know where that came from). I guess at this point him and I had become good friends, since he had invited me, and everyone at the wedding was trying to cheer me up because they knew how I felt about him. The wedding was taking place in this fancy, schmancy, ritzy hotel, and we were all waiting in the ginormous reserved ballroom for it to start. Eventually word got to us that the wedding was canceled. Without even hesitating I grabbed a crowded elevator up to their hotel room. For some reason their room was already super crowded, almost as if there was a whole other party going on. The two of them were chummy and it was obvious the cancellation was mutual and there were no harsh feelings, though Jon seemed a little down since, as he told me, “I’m not getting any younger.” I then sat down next to him, held his hand, kissed his cheek, and told him I was sorry about how the wedding turned out. He looked really surprised and admitted that I was being more tender than he’s ever seen, since he was used to seeing me be “one of the guys”. The dream ended with us still holding hands and the implication that there was something there.

I wish I had romantic dreams more often. True, whenever I wake up after them I’m usually sad, and then I attempt to go back to sleep to continue the dream, though it never works, but I also spend the rest of the day in a great mood. I guess last night’s dream only started to veer towards slightly romantic towards the end, but that’s enough to put me in a wonderful mood.

Still have no clue what Beyonce was doing in my dream though.

as the winter winds litter london with lonely hearts.

20 Jun

It’s hard to believe for five months straight I defined you as my reason for getting up in the morning. The reason I was at a computer 24/7; my sole reason to smile every day. It’s not that you aren’t that any longer. You still are, sort of. Not as much though. We just drifted, didn’t we? And maybe I opened my eyes and came to the realization that I know nothing about you. Nothing of major importance, at least. Knowing your favorite television programs and how we both dislike school and both adore Muppets is one thing, but when one has such powerful emotions for another I feel like they should probably know a little bit more about the other’s personal life. And maybe one day you’ll open up to me, and I to you. Maybe we’ll become close again, and then maybe one day our paths will finally cross and we’ll finally have that firework moment, but for now this is probably for the best. You’re still the boy who made me blush, though my heart no longer jumps quite as high when we talk. What a pity.

I never know what to do when I find myself crush-less. I feel awkward. Too much empty space in my mind; too much free time and not enough to think about. How am I supposed to fill the emptiness without a boy to fantasize on? Without a crush, my mind wonders towards poverty, famine, over population, war, intolerance, consumerism, and I become sad and scared. I do not like fearing a world that I crave to be in. My mind longs for the idleness and fluff of a crush to occupy the space. Is that a bad thing? That I’d rather pine after a boy who I have no chance of being with instead of focusing on real world issues? Maybe, but it’s the only way I find that I can truly cope in this life.

I know we live in a day and age where women are strong and empowered. I’m supposed to enjoy being single. I’m not supposed to need a man.

“I am woman
I am strong
I am confident
I am independent
I am omnipresent
I am self reliant.”

But Ilike having crushes. It’s what Iknow. I am always the girl with a crush. When I have no crush to hold onto it’s like I lose a bit of myself. There is almost always someone to offer my heart up to, and when there isn’t I’m left holding my swollen heart in the palm of my bitter hands, watching on as the blood pulses betwixt my fingers, and wondering what I should do with it.

So I’ll tuck my heart back inside the left pocket of my breast and move on. I suppose it’s for the best, but I already said that, didn’t I?

I do not need a man. I know this. I’ve always known this. I get along just fine on my own. I will continue to persevere, this much I know. I do not need a man. I do not need a man. I do not need a man.

But maybe I’d really like one anyway.