artykins

So I thought it'd be funny to post the contents of an email I got last week. I laughed out loud at most of it and hope you will too. Enjoy.

Later Days,
Arty

Excerpts from a cat's diary...

DAY 183
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

DAY 184
Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair ... must try this on their bed.

DAY 185
Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was ... Hmmm. Not working according to plan.

DAY 186
I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.

DAY 187
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer". More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 188
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The bird on the other hand has got to be an informant, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured.

But I can wait, it is only a matter of time...

I'm sitting at the symphony. One seat from the aisle. You have the aisle seat because your legs are longer and you like to stretch them out. This suits me fine. I like sitting one seat from the aisle. I feel secure. Comforted. To my left there's a kindly older woman with her husband. They have season tickets and I smile as I talk chat with them before the lights are dimmed. I smile because I understand that classical music is vastly becoming an art patronized by a dying generation. You and I are an anomaly in their world.

On my right, you sit. I know you're excited about the prospect of the evening. After all, what's not to love about hearing the symphony in Golden Gate Park on a summer evening? You love summer. I'm dressed in a white eyelet dress. There's a black satin ribbon tied in a bow just below my left shoulder. My hair is up, a few stray tendrils brushing against my cheek and neck as the fragrant wind toys with it. The way you do when I fall asleep on your shoulder. It's just barely perceptible to me, like the barely perceptible, but undeniable smell of spring in the air on sunny February mornings.

At our feet, the picnic basket I gave you years ago as a surprise. A 'just because' gift. We've shared some of our grapes and bread with the older couple next to us and they've shared some of their wine with us. The four of us sit happily and talk while we wait for the park lights to dim. In the back of my mind I know that, years from now, we will be like them. Still happily married and as much in love then as we were when we promised ourselves to each other that one morning in October.

Still, I find myself wondering what trials they have been through. What kind of addictions or darknesses they have overcome together to get to where there are right now, beside us in the park waiting for the symphony to start. I don't ask, though. Perhaps if I knew them better, I would, but I am simply happy to sit there in my white eyelet dress with the black satin ribbon and enjoy the moment. The moment as it's intended to be.

We're still chatting merrily when the lights dim around us and people begin to applaud. I finish off my sentence in a hushed and hurried whisper with a smile on my face before applauding as best I can with a half finished glass of wine in my hand. The older couple snuggle closer together and I scoot closer to you instinctively. You put your left arm around my shoulders and run your thumb over the bare skin of my arm.

I shiver, but in a good way. The musicians take their place on stage and begin to tune. I close my eyes and smile. This is my favorite part of any live music performance. It always has been. There's something grounding about listening to each instrument tune to an A from an oboe. It's as if it reminds everyone, musicans and audience, that all things start in one place, from one thing, given by one being. Do you know I trace music to God this way?

The conductor comes on stage. Again, people applaud and I open my eyes, joining them. He stands, one man in control of so many, and again I'm reminded of God. He acknowledges the audience, turns and holds his baton in the air. It's in his left hand. He's left-handed. He beats out one measure of silence, setting the tempo to the path that is to be followed.

Then...sound. Glorious, joyful, undeniable sound. I feel a thrill rush up my spine and escape my body at the base of my neck. The same kind of thrill I get when you stand behind me, wrap an arm around my waist, pull me towards you and kisses the nape of my neck. Just like when you kiss me, I catch my breath with the sound I hear. Another chill runs through me and I shiver. You ask me if I'm sure I'm alright and I reply that I am.

You and I go back to listening to the sound. As the piece progresses, I close my eyes again and smile faintly. I want to laugh and cry together. I want to dance and fall to my knees with the same breath. Music is the only force on earth that can make me feel such binary opposites at the same time. Yet, I am not strangely torn by the presence of two such opposites. I'm content here and now. In this conflicted, yet amazingly simple, moment.

Intermission comes all too soon. It means that the evening is half over. We've finished our wine and munch on the remnants of what's left of our grapes. We share, like we did before, with the older couple next to us. People stream past us, but the four of us are content to sit until it clears out some. I lean forward and pack away our picnic things, opting to leave the blanket we brought where it is. The night is balmy with only a little wind, uncharacteristic, really, of the weather here. It smells of night blooming jasmine.

When people have walked past us, I stand up. I like to stretch my long legs. Long legs made so by the years of swimming and dancing that I did in my youth. They're strong legs as well. Again, made so by years of swimming and dancing. I slip past you and walk to the edge of the stage, looking closely at the cellos. My favorite instruments because they always sound so sad. Like they need someone. In my fanciful thoughts I imagine you as a cello, sad and in need of me.

But this is only fanciful. I know you don't really need me. You have our God to sustain you and you seem to be content with this. As I think on this, I realize that not once, in all our time together, have you said you need me. You've said plenty of times that you need me to be strong. Need me to pick up more milk from the market. Need to save the date for something like tonight. Tonight is one of those 'just because' gifts that you gave me. Do you need me for anything else at all? Do you need me to be complete? Whole?

No. I thought not.

I return to my seat when the chimes tell me to return. I'm like a fish swimming upstream, against the current of throngs of people coming down the aisle to their own seats. I find you and return a smile that you give me. You stand up and let me pass. I settle in and am pleasantly surprised when the older woman next to me takes my hand in hers and squeezes it in welcome. I've just made a connection with her. Instant and undeniable. I see myself in her eyes, eyes untouched by age or worry. Eyes still brilliantly blue and young. Eyes that see beyond black and white.

The second half of the night is magical. The conductor once again stands before his orchestra and before us, controlling all of us. Leading us to where we need to go. Again I close my eyes and listen intently to the sounds. I hear each instrument speak to me. I feel you lean over and brush your lips against my ear as you ask me, in a whisper, what I see. I hear a cello. It tells me that you need me and instantly my world bursts into color.

I think for a moment on your question. You remain where you are while you wrap your left arm around me again. With my eyes closed, I see the orchestra. I see the conductor. I see the audience, the older couple beside us. And above them all, above us all, strains of color so vibrant that I can almost taste and smell them. I can almost touch them and twirl them around my fingers the way you do with my hair. I see what I am and what I could be. I see what you are and what you could be.

In everything I see there is beauty. It's not apparent, but it's there. I almost laugh at how simple everything seems in this moment. I see that untapped beauty only needs one being to expose it. I see that it has potential to be beauty unprecidented only if someone can visualize it without it being overt. I understand, in this moment, that you and I need God to expose us. I understand that you and I need each other in order to cultivate and grow the untapped, unexpressed and undeniable beauty in each of us.

You ask me, in a whisper, what I see. I take a breath, hear the cello's voice fade away from me, open my eyes slowly and quietly answer.

You. I see you.

So, I'm a late comer to the party of blogs listing what I did today. Since I lack the coherence right now to form a normal blog, a list of things recounting my day seems perfectly suited for the moment. So here you have it. My list.

Today, I:

- Slept in late and skipped school.
- Gave the dog a bath.
- Scoured the bathroom and then took a shower myself.
- Wandered around the bathroom in nothing but a towel while I dried my hair.
- Made myself some lunch.
- Talked to Matt on camera.
- Went online to chat with some friends.
- Thought about what it would be like to have no cares in the world.
- I decided I wouldn't like it because inevitably, while cares can be burdensome, there are also cares that make life worth living. Sitting in a pool of sunshine comes to mind.
- Danced.
- Danced on camera.
- Danced with my grandmother.
- Went to go pick up my uncle with Pepper.
- Heard that said uncle was laid off today.
- Had a conversation about why this might not be a bad thing.
- Danced some more.
- Sang.
- Did no homework when I should have.
- Laughed.
- Ruined a surprise by being clever.
- Went to the symphony to see my baby brother perform.
- Was reminded that my baby brother is freakishly smart and prodigy-like.
- Saw a whale fly.
- Was reminded of a cuervo.
- Saw color in thin air through music.
- Heard my soul expressed through four strings of a violin.
- Got irritated with someone who got irritated with me.
- Tried to make a friend feel better.
- Heard Brahms and wasn't turned off by it.
- Listened to La Boheme by Puccini.
- Listened to The Marriage of Figaro by Mozart.
- Listened to The Pines of Rome by Respigi.
- Thought of listening to Aaron Copeland, but didn't.
- Listened to Symphony No. 5 by Beethoven.
- Listened to Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin.
- Listened to the Piano Concerto No. 2 by Shostakovich.
- Listened to Carnival of the Animals by Saint-Seans.
- Listened to Oye Como Va Tito Puente.
- Listened to Moulin Rouge.
- Heard my uncle describe a truly horrific sounding composer. He likened it to taking a garden rake and dragging it along a chalkboard.
- Saw a much-hated, much-detested, much-loathed and much-abhored English teacher from high school that told me my writing was bad.
- Was made physically ill by said teacher and his girlfriend.
- Felt an earthquake.
- Nearly wept because of music and sound that tugged on the right heartstrings to do so.
- Imagined things.
- Wondered what the country is like.
- Wished I was in Yosemite.
- Watched toys come to life at midnight.
- Thought of Jessie and shuddered.
- Wondered why so many inspired things happen because of love.
- Seen dancing that looked effortless and known exactly how much work goes into that.
- Curled up in a quilt I've made with my own hands.
- Re-read another story addition to my thesis.
- Was pleased with it.
- Wished I was nearer the water.
- Wished I had a better relationship with my dad.
- Wondered why all the men in my life seem to suffer from nuerotic tendencies.
- Laughed at a friend for being afraid of noises coming from the ceiling in his bathroom.
- Seen wonderful examples of Art Deco in a theatre.
- Wondered why it's not a woman's breast that's considered indecent, but a woman's nipple. Seriously, guys. Ever think about that one?
- Wanted to nick a cool sconce for my house, but didn't.
- Mailed a couple letters.
- Dranks lots of tea.
- Smelled plum blossoms on the tree in my front yard.
- Seen a flamingo with a yo-yo. Don't question me, okay? I have a very vivid imagination!
- Sighed.
- Drove by the lake and saw a long continuous strand of lights ring around it from lamp post to lamp post.
- Saw my breath in the cold air.
- Saw the city lit up like a Christmas tree.
- Admired the old Tribune Tower.
- Laughed at questions I was told to never ask Irishmen, Englishmen, Welshmen and Scotsmen. My personal favorite was what not to ask the Englishman.
- Learned a little about a friend's medical condition.
- Wished I had a magic hat that allowed me to control scary brooms that do housework.
- Hated. Hemingway.
- Thought about a paper I need to write this weekend.
- Realized that I learned most of my classical music from Bugs Bunny cartoons and that I laugh when I hear The Barber of Seville played.
- Seen a classic piece of Disney animation from 1940.
- Was shocked to hear that gas prices (already @ $3.00 a gallon) may go up another 20¢ to 40¢ in the next week in California. It makes me want to start a riot.
- Decided to pick up my flute tomorrow and play it some.
- Been tired and ended a blog.

Later Days,
Arty

I am more than I seem. There is very little that people know about me. Very little that is known to those closest to me. I see the world through my eyes alone. It's a world full of vibrant color. Sounds are alive and they move. Smells can be tasted. I can taste spring in the air. Taste the green of the earth. Taste the pink of cherry blossoms. Taste the blue of the air.

The days are getting longer. The beautiful winter sunlight is fading as the afternoons grow longer. The angle of the sun no longer paints everything a fiery orange. Instead, fiery orange gives way to gentler yellows that mark change. The time goes by quicker with more light. For some reason, winter nights are conducive to hiding away at home with family and friends.

The nights are still cold. I still sleep with the quilt I made and two extra blankets on my bed. I still curl up and disappear beneath the covers. I still wait as long as possible in the mornings to get out of bed and enter a world still clinging to the chill of the wintery air. The nights are spent dreaming of you, of being taken up in your arms and gathering warmth and comfort from them. They're spent with the thoughts of contentedness.

It hasn't always been this way. Three winters have passed, along with three summers, three autumns and three falls. For three years I've worn a ring as an outward sign of the promise I made you that day. It's not as shiny as it used to be. The sunshine, which I adore, has never seen that small part of my finger again. As a result of my promise, I now have a white line on my finger where I haven't tanned by the summers I spend swimming or the springs I spend sitting in the dappled shade of a tree.

This ring is what ties me to you. I know you'll disagree with me, but it's true. I have never ceased to love you, yet there have been, and are, days where the only thing I have to remind me of that love is this ring I have agreed to wear for you. It's not as shiny as it used to be, but it's mine. It's the outward sign of the promise I made you that day. And you gave it to me. This ring is what ties me to you.

It reminds me that you love me. It reminds me that I love you in return. It reminds me that you are, in every way, my perfect match. You might not know it, but I understand it. This ring is a reminder of that understanding. It was the promise, then, of a wonderful life. It then became, at times, the reason to remain by your side. It has now become the promise of reason and conversely the reason for the promise.

Tonight, I am distracted by color, sound and taste. I have lived in a constant state of purple the last few weeks. It was the color I projected on the world and the color the world was for me. It lacked harmony. It lacked salt. But now, as I sit here, I see explosions of all those things. And all because of two words: tell me.

Can you feel it? Can you feel the walls I have built crumble? Can you see what my exposed soul looks like? I had forgotten what it looked like. Can you taste the pleasure? Can you taste the happiness? What about the immense relief that I feel? Surely you can sense that.

I am alive for the first time in a long while, exposed by two simple words that lay bare the inner workings of what I am! Joy is mine and the way I know this is because I feel as though the only thing keeping me from going everywhere at once is the very skin that has been marked by the ring of my promise. I tremble with anticipation because I desire more of tonight. I crave this level of intimacy. I want this because it comes from you, not from another equally capable of laying bare my soul.

This is why I live. This is why I love. This is why I am. I live, love and am for you and for Him who created me. This is why I breathe, why I dance, why I think and why I see the world in color. I do it so that someone might see what I see through my eyes. This is why I love sunlight, why I love life.

This is why I am.

Hello!! Yes, it's Arty. Again. I realize the last couple posts have been kind of short, so I'll try my best to make this one a bit longer. I'm sitting at the counter overlooking the kitchen in Craig and Julia's place. Julia has just made a melon-ball martini, so Jeff and Uncle Arnie are currently sitting with martini glasses full of alien-green liquid. Jeff added a raspberry to his for some extra color and contrast.

Uncle Benny has been nursing Malibu and pineapples all evening. He's currently working on his second one. Julia and I are splitting a Leffe, which is something I was introduced to this past Christmas season. I'm not a big beer fan, but I actually like this stuff. Julia is also mixing up some peach martinis and a Midori Sour for Craig. I'm calling it quits after my Leffe. Between that and the flourless chocolate cake Craig just passed around, I think I'll be fat ans sassy for quite a while.

As for being tired, I'm at the point now where I'm so tired that I'm actually catching a second wind and perking up. I'm perking up even more with the rumor that's going around about 'Singin' in the Rain' being popped into the DVD player. Oh, and for those of you who don't know (and perhaps I've just been too tired/tipsy/can't be bothered to tell you), but Craig and Julia have an insane home theatre system. They've got a screen that pops out of the ceiling and a projection thingamajig (forgive me for being technically retarded). It's great.

But I digress.

The title of my blog tonight is such because today I went to a scary Catholic church. Scary in many ways.

1) The place is massive. Absolutely massive.
2) There are probably tons of nooks that could house scary things.
3) Catholics are big into their mausoleums and relics, which I find creepy. Very creepy. In fact I find the whole burying people in walls thing to be so creepy that when I visit cathedrals in Europe, I hop from unmarked stone to unmarked stone. Matt finds it either cute or charming or something else because he laughs at me when we go together.
4) Catholic churches, even though some of them are more modern like the one I went to today, are also big into their austere countenance. This place was no exception. It was very austere and serious. Everything was made of marble, so the acoustics were superb, but the echoey quality only added to the seriousness of the place.
5) There was a Catholic woman there that was really scary. I've named her Rosemary because I think she has the ability to drift through walls and cause the statue of the Virgin Mary to weep blood. I wouldn't be surprised if she kept bats in the bell tower, nor would I be surprised if she hissed and evaporated into thin air when the priests sprinkle holy water on her. She was really mean and nasty.
6) The pipe organ was worthy of a horror novel. You know the kind I mean. The kind built into the wall of an enormous cave somewhere with a dark, sinister figure, cloaked in a cape and wearing a hat to conceal his face, playing it. And you just know this guy is plotting evil against the world because he's rejected from the world. Yeah...that kind of organ. The kind of organ that can give some serious kick ass performances of Toccata and Fugue.
7) Did I mention that it was big into mausoleums and relics?
8) Did I mention that, considering #7, it's creepy?

So yeah! That was my day! Why was I there?

Well, my handbell choir was asked to participate in this concert tonight to help raise some money for some cause or another. I don't really know what it's for, I just know I helped raise it. It's not really good of me to not know, but it's the truth. Quite frankly, I was too tired to pay attention to anything but what I was supposed to do. It was pretty bad, even for me.

It also didn't help that I was an idiot today by wearing two inch heels without taking my Converse (decorated aptly with a Union Jack) to change into for the non-perfomance times. That said, I hated my life walking around downtown Los Angeles this afternoon with my people and Alex. Pictures of Alex are to follow. He's a cute kid. It was his 15th birthday today too, so if, by some slight chance of fate (and I mean SLIGHT) you're happening to read this, Alex, happy birthday! You nudnick!

Let's see...what else has happened? A more formal recap of yesterday, perhaps? Yes, I think so.

Disneyland rocked. Almost as much as Space Mountain did with a track from the Red Hot Chile Peppers playing with flashing lights and loud music. It was like a giant rock concert inside a dark cavern. It totally rocked. Gah! So cool, that!

Another equally awesome ride was Indiana Jones. We went on it after dark, so the queue for the ride was extra creepy. I've never liked the line...and to be fair (not to mention honest), I close my eyes in certain parts of the ride. In those parts I just tend to scream like the girl I am and/or laugh. I was screaming last night. Especially since Doug was sitting behind me in the uber tricked out hydraulic jeep and kept reaching forward to poke my back and make it feel like bugs or something.

Also, an interesting fact that not a lot of people know about that ride. There comes a point at the end of the ride (at least at Disneyland) where the jeep stops and the riders see Indiana Jones hanging from a rope. It's part of that really famous scene with the giant boulder. So, after a moment, the rider sees this giant boulder coming towards the jeep and Indiana is telling us to back up. And we do. Or so we think.

The jeep is rigged in such a way to make it feel as though you're going in reverse, but in reality, the walls of the room are moving. Combined with feeling of reversing, the rider (even those savvy to how it works like me) is convinced and tricked into thinking that we're actually moving. It's quite brilliant, actually. Simply brilliant. Gah! I wish I could think of stuff like that!

Of course I usually try to avoid going on Indiana Jones for as long as humanly possible just because it's in Adventureland and Adventureland is one of the least movement-friendly places in the entire park. The queue for Indiana Jones always (ALWAYS) backs out into the main plaza area, so getting around there is a test of patience, skill, brain and nerve. I have very little of the first quality, so I avoid the place.

Unless, of course, a Dole-whip is involved. I'll bravely fight the hoards of people for the pineappley goodness of a Dole whip. It's totally worth the hassle.

Craig and Julia met up with us for dinner last night. We sat on the pier (in DCA) and ate and laughed. We ate some more and then laughed a WHOLE lot more. From dinner, we went back to Disneyland and wandered around aimlessly. Everyone chose to go on Pirates of the Caribbean, except Jeff, so I sat off with him. I would normally jump at the chance to ride Pirates, but I decided to sit off instead and be subjected to the never-ending phone call my brother made. Imagine my goodness to him being repaid in such a manner. *tuts*

It took everyone so long to get through the line and the ride that Jeff and I got to see the first half of the fireworks. We hadn't planned on staying for fireworks, but we ended up doing just that. It was awesome. Jeff said afterwards that the best part of watching fireworks was listening to me giggle. I emphatically denied doing it, but I really did. I squealed like the girl I am! It was so cool! There's something about sparkly things in the sky that attracts me. But to be fair, anyone who knows me will tell you that I've always been attracted to sparkly things. From the time I was a little girl.

I was pleased today with Joe, a friend of mine since childhood. The dress code for our concert was black and white, but the guys were required to wear black bow ties. While everyone had clip ties, Joe had a real bow tie. It was fabulous. I almost went into shock when I saw it hanging loose around his neck. He asked me if I knew how to tie a bow tie. I answered that I did. Joe replied that he might need my help if he couldn't manage it himself. He did pretty good and required only a slight adjustment from me.

I know that's not really important in the grand scheme of things, but I was impressed/pleased/shocked/etc. with Joe. It's rare to see a man with a real bow tie.

Oh! Doug and I have come to an agreement that God, in his infinite wisdom, has created the act of waking up as cruel and unusual punishment for people. To be fair, though, God also created hot water, which is brilliant! Especially after a long day walking around a park and getting sticky. God also created big warm, comfy beds in purple rooms that makes me forget about my bitterness concerning waking up.

And with that thought, I think I'm going to get some sleep. Doug just woke me out of a stupor. Apparently I was sitting here just staring blankly at the pillar in the corner of the kitchen for a while. I'll go be socaible for a while until the bathroom clears up. Once that happens, I'll brush my teeth and crawl into bed. More tomorrow.

Before I go, however, I'd like to add that Craig is playing with Tiger (one of their dogs) by throwing a tiny stuffed monkey toy onto my brother, who's busy sleeping. As a result, Tiger is crawling all over Jeff and the rest of us are sitting here cracking up.

Later Days,
Arty

Round two at Craig and Julia's in happening right now. As I write, Julia is on my left, the uncles and Jeff on my right around the counter and Doug is in the shower. Oh, I'm mistaken. Doug is in the corner sipping a margarita. In fact, we're all sucking on some margaritas. Jeff included. Again. Although tonight I doubt we'll be getting buzzed. There's plenty of food to go around to soak up the alcohol and we're not each double fisting it and then some!

Today was Disneyland day! Yay! Matt told me not to have any fun, but I did. I had loads of fun. Heaps of fun. Whole mountains of fun! Of course, what's not to love about starting out your day riding Space Mountain with your brother, who's never been on it before because he's a big fat girl at heart. He was yelling and screaming throughout the whole thing, but I spent my time laughing. I laugh when I have fun on rides.

Of course, it took Uncle Arnie bribing Jeff with a new pair of Vans shoes to get him on the ride. Yeah. Like I said. Big girl, my brother.

As promised, I wore my Ta-Tas shirt today! Me and my entire family wore it. Jeff had 'Ta-Tas Security.' Doug had 'Save the Ta-Tas' just like me. Uncle Benny had 'I Support Ta-Tas' and Uncle Arnie had 'Team Ta-Tas.' Julia had 'Caught you lookin' at my Ta-Tas' and Craig has 'My wife has great Ta-Tas.' Oh yeah. In short, all seven of us were moving in one pod through the parks. We attracted lots of attention and even got some questions about what they all meant, so we were able to spread the word about breast cancer awareness. Go us!

Lots of things happened today. Lots of things. Too many to recount right now at quarter to one in the morning after a long day and with a couple margaritas in me. And MAN does Craig make a kick-ass margarita! The man has some serious talent. So much talent and coolness that Jeff and I have adopted them both into the family. Flipping goodness, I LOVE these people!

So, Uncle Arnie is in the shower now. I'm waiting for a chance to pop in and brush my teeth so I can crash. I've got a nice, big bed in the guestroom. I call it the purple room because it's painted purple. Of course, getting my own room has its disadvantages. As penance for my solitude and my own bed, I have to house everyone's bags and stuff. I have no problem with this. After all, I get my own bed.

And now, although I have a lot more to tell, I don't hear the water anymore. I'll leave you with this thought, taught to us all by Julia and Craig from personal experience. Cheap tequila will mess you up. I agree with this having had a couple encounters with it myself. Avoid cheap tequila like the plague!

So I bid you adieu. For now.

Later Days,
Arty

It just occured to me that there's a sober account of what I did today!

http://web.mac.com/arnieland/iWeb/Arnieland/Blog/Blog.html

That's my uncles blod and he and I kept a tab of what we were doing throughout the day. Enjoy!

Later Days,
Arty

Okay, so the trip is over! I'm sitting at Craig and Julia's dining room table. In front of every single one of us are three wine glasses. One for red wine (we had two bottles between the seven of us), one for white wine (we had one bottle between the seven of us) and a small glass for port (a black muscat). Needless to say, we're happy people! Oh yeah! Seriously happy.

At the moment, we're all sitting around eating some strawberry sorbet with...you guessed it...more wine! My brother is currently supremely buzzed. It's actually quite funny to watch. He makes a funny pseudo drunk. He's poured some wine into his sorbet.

Okay, so all evening I've had to sneeze. Doug is telling stories about the first time he smoked pot and we're dying laughing.

In fact, I think I'm going to go away. There's SOOOOO much that can't be done justice in my state. I'm buzzed and very happy. I'll write when I'm sobered up.

But, I WILL add this. There's nothing better than great food, great company and great wine!

Later Days,
Arty

Right, so this is the last blog I'm going to be writing (I think) until Monday. Why? I'm off to Southern California to perform. I just wanted to keep you updated on how things are going.

Day two has proven to be difficult on many levels since Pepper literally runs at whoever is in the kitchen when they're there. I mean, we're talking, bowling over. Needless to say, cooking anything is really hard with her underfoot.

In other news...I'm working on an evil and brilliant plan to include Hobbs into a post. I'm compiling a list of things that are potentially funny and then, once that's done, there's no telling what I'll do! *evil laugh*

Oh, and Hobbs...for you and for Matt there will be lots of photos taken on Saturday to show off my 'Save the Ta-Tas' top. If rumor is true, my brother, my uncles, Doug, Craig and Julia (friends of mine) will also have them. It should be fun. We are...Team Ta-Tas! *cheesy theme music*

And that's all for now. I'm off to pack and get things together, so until Monday (I think), behave yourselves and have a great weekend!

Later Days,
Arty

Hello! The rumors are true. Arty is indeed up and running again with internet access. The world is once again made right and good and entertaining. The last few days have been excruciating in terms of finding things to do. I was reduced to cooking last night to stave off boredom. To be fair, however, Uncle Ron and Aunt Becky were over. They're in Indonesia for two weeks and they brought Pepper, one of their dogs, over so we could take care of her. Day one of renewed internet connection ushered in Pepper trying to get amorous with someone's leg. To make matters even more hilarious and embarrassing, that someone was me. It was bad. All kinds of bad.

But now for more serious things! So stop laughing at the idea of Pepper being amorous with my leg and get into a more serious mode of thought! I say this especially for the resident readers I know of...namely, DJ and Hobbs. Don't try to feign innocence. We all know you're still smiling from the Pepper incident...so stop it! Stop it now!

That said, I will digress.

I talked with Matt today. Properly talked for the first time since Friday. I know it might not seem that long or difficult, but it is. Anyway, we talked about what happened yesterday.

Yesterday I met on campus with Marco. He's pretty much an awesome cool dude. He's a pastor at my church and he's agreed to marry us, so I met up with him to catch up on life. The last time I saw him was right before Christmas when Matt was here and the three of us met. So he came to campus and we found a small, quiet place to sit and talk (compliments of my knowledge of where all the good 'study' spots are on campus).

He told me about his recent trip to Colorado, the house he and Nicole (his wife) have moved to, etc. I told him about school, the insane amounts of reading I need to do and about Benny. That last thing, of course, became our topic of conversation for the next hour and a half (all the time I had between classes). To be honest, I can't really remember what all I told him, everything was just so much like a whirlwind. It was a good feeling, though, having him, a relatively objective ear, learn about all of this and just being someone else who can share the heaviness of the burden.

Naturally I was asked loads of questions. Marco was very...*thinks of the word*...careful, I suppose would be a good way to word it. He was most excellent at not jumping to conclusions and it was equally uplifting to know that he understood where I stand, how I think and what I feel. I knew going into the meeting that I would feel better afterwards just by virtue of him knowing, but I had no idea how much of a comfort he'd be.

Anyway, I was able to suss out some of the technicalities of what I'm feeling. I was able to verbalize that although I love Matt to pieces, the poet in me has made a connection to the poet in Benny. It's always been that way. I just never stopped to think anything of it. Since all this started, however, I've had to slam on the brakes, throw everything into reverse and analyze the daylights out of everything. From where I'm standing now, I can see that I've always had that connection with Benny and that only since he's come clean to me have I begun to realize just how precarious the beam I walk really is. I can't really do any one thing fully without tipping the scale to the side of danger so as of now I'm in the process of trying to figure out how to move.

Okay, so I can sense some of you are skeptical still. I can understand that. After all, I'm a big fan of British Literature where the woman always seems to be loved from afar or by the man who adores her yet can't do anything about it. It's a very romanticized idea. And to be fair, a small part of me still believes that it's a romantic notion, but the fact still remains that my logic forbids me from embracing anything other than what I already know simply because what I know now is real. It's tangible and I can taste and breathe it in.

And that's what Matt is like for me. He's tangible. I can touch and taste him. I can close my eyes and rest my chin on his shoulder, press my lips against his neck and inhale, knowing that everything I sense is absolutely and wholly real. It's absolutely and wholly mine. It's absolutely and wholly missed and longed for.

Yes, I have a connection to the poet in Benny. One could even go so far as to call it an attraction and in many ways it's what I wish Matt was. And I'm aware of how horrible that sounds. Even I admit to that sounding terrible, but before any of this happened, I wasn't able to identify anything. Standing away as far as I can manage from the whole thing, I can see now that his confession made me stop and understand that I didn't identify anything because nothing was at stake.

Now the stakes are drawn out in black and white right in front of me. Matt's threatened by the whole situation because he knows that the passion I have for everything written (and beautifully done so) has linked up with Benny's. I fully acknolwedge that this is somethign worthy of being threatened by. Matt also knows that I want this kind of attraction with him, but for whatever reason he cannot be what I want in this case.

I think part of this, too, is that I want there to be an immediate connection with Matt. He's quite happy to sit back and let time reveal these kinds of things to us, but I think I want something immediate because in a way I, myself, feel threatened. Having to admit to myself that I have a closeness with Benny has led me down a fairly dark passage of thought that includes the constant usurping of my steadfastness by the questions of 'maybe' and 'what if.' It's not a path I wanted to take, but I went along it anyway to glean from it what I could.

And I've emerged towards the end of this path with my loyalty and word intact. I walked into battlefields with 'maybe' and 'what if' and I fought fiercely (as many of you who know me might imagine considering that I can have such an overbearing, torturing mind), but in the end, my logic and my reason won each battle. And even if I want Matt to be something he's not, I resign myself relatively happily in the knowledge that I know he's the man God has intended for me. Granted, there are some days that it's difficult to love Matt in the way I know I can (and admittedly must), but when it comes right down to it, I absolutely know he's the one.

He's one of the very few things I've ever been 100% sure of what I know. It's like knowing I love writing. It's like knowing my family will always be there for advice. Knowing Matt is the man I'm meant to spend my life with is like knowing I am. It's that integral to my being and that clear to my mind and heart. He's like knowing God exists in the very air around us, the air that sustains life. There's not one shadow of doubt.

So why all the inner conflict? Is it just self-induced agony and misery?

Well, I sometimes forget that feeling I had three years ago when I said my first goodbye to Matt at the airport. I kissed him quickly and sent him on his way through customs and I turned to walked away. And as I walked away I had that sense of utter and complete understanding. It was amazing. Just amazing.

So yeah, I sometimes forget what that felt like. And I can go for days (weeks sometimes) without remembering it. But I always do. There's inevitably a moment when Matt will look at me and I'll instantly be transported back to SFO that day in mid-December. Those moments come and I'm made perfectly content to sit and let time reveal the connections we have, but don't know about yet. I'm made perfectly happy with God's choice in my life for a man who is my equal in every way I can imagine. I'm made perfectly satisfied with the complexities of Matt's character that I'm beginning to unearth and piece together to make a picture of who he is.

Besides, he and I are of one mind in that when it comes to love, it's not what you always outwardly do that manifests itself as love. It's what you sometimes don't do. It's remaining faithful and upholding the committment to love that is the manifestation of love. After all, that's the love of our God, the Father, who chooses it.

And so it is that I have decided to be salt in the world. If I preserve nothing else, let it be known that I preserve this, my love for Matt, as something honest and truthful, un-bending and complete.

Later Days,
Arty