Dishwasher

Who knew dishwasher was a luxury?
They became my luxury in the past three years. After all, we all can wash our dishes by hand, at the sink. Why worry about that when you have a dish washer. I think I am in love with mine and absolutely cannot live without it from now on. It makes my life way too easy, which makes it efficient, and being on a time crunch, it makes it essential to me. I cannot live without this luxury from now on.

Post Independence Day

The independence day was nice. We took the day off, celebrated and enjoyed our good fortune with friends. BBQing is essential and beer is the only thing that is perfect. The dream far from the reality. Now that Independence day is over with, we have to return back to our shabby hut and continue dreading through the day as sun climbs up the horizon and cools down with a silver moon.

So it's back to reality searching for lawyers, finding out about J-1 visa waiver. Finding out about Turkish wedding ceremony, not that the consulate is making it easy to obtain information.

Ah, the wonderful life of graduate students.

Moving Out?

Hahaha, this is just great. It never ends with this place. Not are we placed centrally so conveniently and significantly in downtown and have access to anywhere and everything, we're also at the heart of college home parties and near by clubs and bars where we get a lot of traffic, noise and often the sounds of a police, ambulance and fire truck sirens. The maintenance is poor at best and negligence is the norm around here. I know it's March and that I am supposed to suck things up, but we were freezing in our apartments the whole winter. It was never warm at our apartment and the heaters were barely on. I don't know how he gets away with this.

In addition to crappy management, inability to find anyone, at anytime at the rental office is frustrating. But to have this in addition to everything, feels like a sick, gruesome joke. It's Madison people. You can't just post a notice of demolishing of the building currently one hundred per cent occupied at the beginning of April, where the new leases are signed by November! I mean how will we move anywhere? There will be a limited pool of available and even a smaller pool of available and affordable apartments in downtown Madison. This is despicable.

It looks like we'll be moving out, regardless of it all and we'll have to go through the whole find a new place, pack, move, unpack, change address in everything process, without our consent and will. How wonderful.

The Last Train to Rochester

Today is the day I leave for Rochester. I will arrive at Rochester early in the morning tomorrow and then go over for Berra's shower. Yep, they are the same day. I am planning on staying for one week, though I might just end up coming back earlier or perhaps later.

It feels awkward to be leaving S behind, like I am leaving the warmth of my heart here, in Madison. The further this gets, the more difficult it is going to be for me. My mom in Rochester and S back here. I am going to be terribly divided between the loves of my heart.

I had never felt this way when I was leaving M behind. I guess this is what makes this relationship so different and unique then my previous ones. Everything ends and begins again with S. His own personality and the value he attributes to me. The sheer willingness he possess to make things work and his way of showing his emotions, emphatically, affectionately without reserves, limitations or restraints. Free and deep. It's like a cloak I like to wear at all times. His love has become my second skin, I can't seem to do without.

The last time I went to Rochester it was with S and IL, which was an adventure by itself, different than my travelings before. This time it feels hollow to be traveling by myself--something I've done dozens of times. It feels lonely, for the first time. Time just won't go by.

Getting on that bus, I was a slushy, teary mess. It felt like I was leaving him for eternity, that's how long the upcoming weeks felt like to me.

Talk It All The Way To Death

Discuss, Discuss, and discuss some more after lunch. It's time for bed, let's reopen and reexamine everything. The day we meet, the day, everyday, day by day, everything, every second, every thought, every emotion.

What do we have in front of us. Let's argue some. Let's cry some, but still, hold on to me, no matter what.

Misery...let's face that together too.

Openly, frankly and in all of its depths and impossibilities and unlucky factors, let's talk it all out, until there is not a single word left out.

Let's pan it out and kill it with words until the end. Where what we have to do follows logically, like in the personal essay.

Home

After our engagement, things have been wonderful. Not to say it isn't without it's interruptions. But at least, our apartment is now feeling more like a home. I will never truly feel like this apartment is mine, or that I belong here, due to the all the history behind it that includes others. However, at least we're not a family, and it's got that homey feeling. I've finally been able to give it a home feeling. The temporarily designed, managed and stored items have found much better permanent homes. Unfortunate that it took us this long, but our whole lives have been a whirlwind. Since June, we've both been trying to catch up and it's been one milestone after another. The more I think about it, the more crazy it seems.

But now, I feel comfortable coming back home at the end of the night. It's a home alright.

Writing Space

My little desk, that's always cluttered, with an ever growing list of things to do, things to pay, things to manage and thing's to write. It never seems to lesson, or the space I clean up never seems to stay clean long enough to actually do wondrous writing on it. Or, any writing at all. For the past months, I can't seem to get past, everything I write is crap phase and it's not making my other wise dim any brighter.

One thing I do miss from living on my own is my abundant own space and writing space specifically as everything stood the way I left them, without an extra pair of eyes curious, wondering over my lists, things. I feel so violated sometimes that I just want to hide everything. And the daily needed use of check books, post it, index cards, pens and pencils and being easily accessible in our bedroom sometimes makes me the guilty part.

But, writing for me has always been a solitary act in which I've engaged in extreme privacy.

I continually need a space in which I can call my own, well lit, well organized and cleaned, without the treacherous, dirty hands of others to go through my sacred space. Everyone is different. I am not one of those grand people who can write anywhere, anytime, with anyone around. I need my mind to have been comfortable, my body to be well adjusted and my heart in it, having embraced where I am in order to write.

I like the door to be closed, rain drops hitting against the window and the soft voice of Melody Gardot to write efficiently, wholeheartedly and productively. I dream of the day where we have two bedroom apartment where I can have all of my books, notebooks with me, in the same room, and a door to close and lock from lecherous hands and lustful, dirty gazes.