enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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I must be getting old as I'm so tired from work I feel as though I've been flogged.

So the scientist is either silly and too easily in love, or he is a liar. He wrote to me last night about this and that and when I wrote back to tell him that I had met someone lovely (and that I wished him the same good fortune), he wrote back to me that coincidentally he had experienced �love at first meeting� on Sunday. I mean, if it is true, I am happy for him. What are the odds though that he would profess �love� for me last week, invite me out Sunday, call me on Sunday (at which time I told him that it was definitely never going to happen; he thanked me for my honesty), and now be in love with someone new three days later? Actually, come to think of it, given his attraction to professions of this kind, it is very likely. I wish him well; that�s all I can say.

Is love a fancy or a feeling? ;-)

I�ve decided not to get too excited yet about the new guy. There�s excited and there�s *excited* though. I�m going for the latter, tingly, hawtttt (did I steal this from Gentry? :-)) kind. I�m just not going to let it run too deep in a hurry. In any case, people don�t die of disappointment. Or at least I don�t.

I have a sore throat today and I am bored with my project. Every now and then I wish I could just stay home, but my Protestant Work Ethic gets the best of me. I�m stuffing myself with crisp apples�I believe in �a doctor a day keeps the doctor away��and I think I�ll go out to the pharmacy soon to get some throat lozenges. Such a convenient thing to have a pharmacy right by my workplace; these days, I am all about convenience. I like the fact that the Lone Ranger (man, that sounds stupid�I should revert to Mr. Big) lives only one mile from me. I hope to take advantage of this convenience on numerous occasions.

You know, that reminds me of the Carol Shi3lds novel he R3public of Love. I read that as a marginally sensible 20-year-old. It was my favourite of her novels. The movie by De3pa Mehta was panned last year or the year before�unfairly, I believe; people have no imagination when a director takes a book with a pretty simple plot and twists it with their own vision. I mean, really, did it matter that much that she set the story in Toronto and not Winnipeg, and that she used an Indian score??? I thought it was quite a lovely and clear-eyed meditation on love and the arid confusion about love of dry, egocentric urban professionals.

So when I first read The Republic of Love I was a romantic fool and I was captivated by the central motivating force in the book. For the first half of or so of it CS follows the characters through their lives and relationships independently. They trudge along in their separate existences along streets and in circles only a block or two removed from each other in the same city, until one day by chance they happen to meet. There�s a section in the book after they first get together�I�d almost go out and buy it right now for this very paragraph�in which CS proclaims something like, �All other things equal, people in love are kinder, gentler, more powerful, are more likely to win gold medals, are capable of scaling Mt. Everest�� I don�t know, exactly. I�m making that up; the gold medals part is in there for sure though.

And I get that, I really do. Because I know that having C.�s love, in particular�even though we are not in love�has given me a kind of strength and a gradual vision of myself as a worthwhile human being that I thank my lucky stars every day to have. Love is the foundation of contented achievement�whatever kind of love. And the love of someone who sees you somewhat objectively, i.e. of someone who is not your parent, provides a special kind of nourishment. That�s why I want to share more of mine. Not just possibly with LR, but with a gradually growing and wider circle of friends; the kind of love that has no bitterness or jealousy or competitiveness attached to it�for real love cannot flourish in such circumstances. This is why I think that love requires maturity of us�that we often don�t have, that I often haven�t possessed.

6:09 p.m. - 2006-11-30

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