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amulAudio/Visual representation of how I feel right now:
One of my more commonly used literary tricks is to talk about how old cliches have gained fresh meaning for me. This time, that phrase is madly in love.
This is not the giddy, jittery madness which usually accompanies my infatuations, nor the swooning super-saturation of colors in a world rediscovered through the eyes of another. No, this madness which infects me is more like something that affects a character out of Lovecraft. It's been a slow slip down a hill of rationality leading me to a place which looks exactly like the world I've always known, but with suddenly mystifying connotations.
I've often joked at other points in my life that since it feels crazy, I clearly can't be. Crazy people, I argued, don't know that they're crazy. The things they do make sense to them. Crazy people don't think, "this is crazy," they think they all think I'm crazy, but they just don't understand.
This knowledge gives me a little hope. It makes me believe that I am not yet completely crazy in love. There is still some part of me that can rationally function. Some part of me which still knows that I did not always think these thoughts, did not always have these desires. Beliefs?
I admit....I'm a little uncertain about whether my beliefs have changed since meeting Mirage. I don't think my core values, my beliefs about the way the world works, my ideals, my ethics, I don't think they've changed, but I'm not entirely comfortable making that statement. They may have.
I joked with her that she's cast a spell on me, and Mirage retorted, "I didn't cast it, but I do think we invoked something."
Invoked something, yes. Summoned something into our lives through an act of will, through a blatant disregard for the natural laws of the universe we were raised to believe in. We invoked love, and I want to claim it's of unprecedented power, an earth-trembling, life-shattering beast the likes of which man has not seen before.....but I'm old enough to know better.
This love I feel for her, this thing we've summoned into our lives, it is not earth-shaking. It's just Amul-shattering.
We were so headstrong, so sure of ourselves. We pretended like the miles of road between us would serve as our binding circle, the barrier which would protect us as we played with the raw forces of the heart. We thought we might summon an infatuation, a weekend affair, or an impassioned tryst.
We started with the premise that I'm not leaving Chicago and you're not leaving Texas. We explained why we loved our homes, why we needed to stay in them. We both agreed that the other had perfectly good reasons for liking their homes, and we'd definitely respect that.
We started with the premise that we're both polyamorous and not looking for a "primary" partner. "I want to get to know you," we said. "I want to try you on in person, and keep what I find, but you'll be free to continue your life as always."
We started with the confidence, the surety, the cynicism that we'd been hurt far too often, and much too deeply to ever really trust someone the way we'd need to in order to contemplate anything but the thing that is usually offered. Besides, we both liked the kinds of relationships we've been having, been getting into. We thought we were content.
And here's where you know I'm crazy, because the Me that I remember being would write something bitter and melodramatic here like, "Ha! And look at us now."
But instead, I just roll over, and think of her some more, and whisper, So, I think I'm going crazy, like it was an overture, like it was foreplay.
I'm not exactly sure when I first met Mirage, but she first came onto my radar on 2008-06-19 01:41 pm (local) through an online writer's critique group I had joined. Ironically, the short story she had written about a rope bondage scene was posted to the group on my birthday. I read the words, smiled a wicked smile, and simply commented, I spy with my little eye, something we have in common. I'm pretty sure I laughed aloud as I clicked "post."
I had meant to capture her attention, I had meant it as an idle bit of flirtation with a woman I would likely never meet.
Then we both got involved in a different art project, and the flirtations continued. I planned a trip to meet with the central planning committee shortly before the project was to go live. The idea was that we'd churn out ideas, exlore concepts in real time, with the heady aroma of creativity filling our noses. During the planning, one of them commented lightly, "Oh, and you'll get to meet Mirage."
A shift then, in my perception of potential. The first logical step that led me to my current insanity. Our conversations took a different path, and I started thinking of her as more than just a source of pixelated arousal. The project died, like so many do, the trip was canceled and I was left in close contact with this lovely demure creature whom I was never going to meet.
Nearly a year later, the hints and suggestions, the erotic fiction, the clearly-about-each-other poetry boiled to a froth, and we made plans for a visit.
I remember being sane, even then. As the emails gave way to IMs, as the IMs gave way to phone calls, I remember being sane. Remember being rational about what was possible between us. I remember being hesitant, and aware of the lurking potential for danger.
(Tangent: Lurking potential for danger would be a good name for a photograph)
When did I lose all sense of priority? When did being with her become more important to me than the life I've been building here? When did earning the trust and respect of her children become more important to me than finding someone to tie up?
When did hearing her voice become more important to me than pursuing my dreams? Than making art?
Around Thanksgiving, I think I was still sane, still barely on the edge of sane, but still somewhat viably intelligent about the choices I need to make about my life. Was I completely smitten by Christmas?
Maybe. Possibly.
All I know for sure is that, by the time I got to hold her face in my hands, I was already hers.
One of my more commonly used literary tricks is to talk about how old cliches have gained fresh meaning for me. This time, that phrase is madly in love.
This is not the giddy, jittery madness which usually accompanies my infatuations, nor the swooning super-saturation of colors in a world rediscovered through the eyes of another. No, this madness which infects me is more like something that affects a character out of Lovecraft. It's been a slow slip down a hill of rationality leading me to a place which looks exactly like the world I've always known, but with suddenly mystifying connotations.
I've often joked at other points in my life that since it feels crazy, I clearly can't be. Crazy people, I argued, don't know that they're crazy. The things they do make sense to them. Crazy people don't think, "this is crazy," they think they all think I'm crazy, but they just don't understand.
This knowledge gives me a little hope. It makes me believe that I am not yet completely crazy in love. There is still some part of me that can rationally function. Some part of me which still knows that I did not always think these thoughts, did not always have these desires. Beliefs?
I admit....I'm a little uncertain about whether my beliefs have changed since meeting Mirage. I don't think my core values, my beliefs about the way the world works, my ideals, my ethics, I don't think they've changed, but I'm not entirely comfortable making that statement. They may have.
I joked with her that she's cast a spell on me, and Mirage retorted, "I didn't cast it, but I do think we invoked something."
Invoked something, yes. Summoned something into our lives through an act of will, through a blatant disregard for the natural laws of the universe we were raised to believe in. We invoked love, and I want to claim it's of unprecedented power, an earth-trembling, life-shattering beast the likes of which man has not seen before.....but I'm old enough to know better.
This love I feel for her, this thing we've summoned into our lives, it is not earth-shaking. It's just Amul-shattering.
We were so headstrong, so sure of ourselves. We pretended like the miles of road between us would serve as our binding circle, the barrier which would protect us as we played with the raw forces of the heart. We thought we might summon an infatuation, a weekend affair, or an impassioned tryst.
We started with the premise that I'm not leaving Chicago and you're not leaving Texas. We explained why we loved our homes, why we needed to stay in them. We both agreed that the other had perfectly good reasons for liking their homes, and we'd definitely respect that.
We started with the premise that we're both polyamorous and not looking for a "primary" partner. "I want to get to know you," we said. "I want to try you on in person, and keep what I find, but you'll be free to continue your life as always."
We started with the confidence, the surety, the cynicism that we'd been hurt far too often, and much too deeply to ever really trust someone the way we'd need to in order to contemplate anything but the thing that is usually offered. Besides, we both liked the kinds of relationships we've been having, been getting into. We thought we were content.
And here's where you know I'm crazy, because the Me that I remember being would write something bitter and melodramatic here like, "Ha! And look at us now."
But instead, I just roll over, and think of her some more, and whisper, So, I think I'm going crazy, like it was an overture, like it was foreplay.
I'm not exactly sure when I first met Mirage, but she first came onto my radar on 2008-06-19 01:41 pm (local) through an online writer's critique group I had joined. Ironically, the short story she had written about a rope bondage scene was posted to the group on my birthday. I read the words, smiled a wicked smile, and simply commented, I spy with my little eye, something we have in common. I'm pretty sure I laughed aloud as I clicked "post."
I had meant to capture her attention, I had meant it as an idle bit of flirtation with a woman I would likely never meet.
Then we both got involved in a different art project, and the flirtations continued. I planned a trip to meet with the central planning committee shortly before the project was to go live. The idea was that we'd churn out ideas, exlore concepts in real time, with the heady aroma of creativity filling our noses. During the planning, one of them commented lightly, "Oh, and you'll get to meet Mirage."
A shift then, in my perception of potential. The first logical step that led me to my current insanity. Our conversations took a different path, and I started thinking of her as more than just a source of pixelated arousal. The project died, like so many do, the trip was canceled and I was left in close contact with this lovely demure creature whom I was never going to meet.
Nearly a year later, the hints and suggestions, the erotic fiction, the clearly-about-each-other poetry boiled to a froth, and we made plans for a visit.
I remember being sane, even then. As the emails gave way to IMs, as the IMs gave way to phone calls, I remember being sane. Remember being rational about what was possible between us. I remember being hesitant, and aware of the lurking potential for danger.
(Tangent: Lurking potential for danger would be a good name for a photograph)
When did I lose all sense of priority? When did being with her become more important to me than the life I've been building here? When did earning the trust and respect of her children become more important to me than finding someone to tie up?
When did hearing her voice become more important to me than pursuing my dreams? Than making art?
Around Thanksgiving, I think I was still sane, still barely on the edge of sane, but still somewhat viably intelligent about the choices I need to make about my life. Was I completely smitten by Christmas?
Maybe. Possibly.
All I know for sure is that, by the time I got to hold her face in my hands, I was already hers.
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no subject
Date: 6 Feb 2010 16:36 (UTC)Lovecraftian as that may sound. ;)
~adore~
How dare you write so forcefully (still)! As if I wasn't smitten enough with you... (always)
no subject
Date: 6 Feb 2010 18:07 (UTC)Does this just mean you're easy, or does it mean that you're overwhelmed by my adoration for you even at 25% power?
no subject
Date: 6 Feb 2010 18:16 (UTC)