Quick. Define love.
Still trying? It’s hard, right? The author David Levithan understood that when he wrote “The Lover’s Dictionary.”
The inside flap of the book jacket says, “How does one talk about love? Do we even have the right words to describe something that can be both utterly mundane and completely transcendent, pulling us out of our everyday lives and making us feel a part of something greater than ourselves?”
Hard to define in one sentence or even one paragraph, Levithan illustrated the definition of a love-relationship in dictionary form.
Using every letter of the alphabet, the author takes readers on a journey through a relationship, dropping poignant tidbits that serve as windows to the emotional connectivity and separation of love.
The entries were hard-hitting in their intensity. Reading some of them was like hearing the first line of “I Will Always Love You,” performed by both Whitney Houston and Dolly Parton, or seeing someone cry because of the love they feel for someone else. It was because of the aching intensity and the frank emotion, succinctly emptied onto the page.
These two entries from “The Lover’s Dictionary,” identify a wildly different aspect of the relationship between the two lovers.
“belittle, v. No, I don’t listen to the weather in the morning. No, I don’t keep track of what I spend. No, it hadn’t occurred to me that the Q train would have been that much faster. But every time you give me that look, it doesn’t make me want to live up to your standards.”
In the entry for “brash,” the narrator’s lover asks him to spend the night: “I loved the notion that the night was mine to spend, and I immediately decided to spend it on you.”
It’s harder to write short than it is to write long, I find. Being able to do so, to avoid the tendency to over-explain, yielded these glimpses into a deeply personal relationship that also describes common themes: pride, envy, all-encompassing adoration.
My friend said she couldn’t handle the way the entries weren’t chronological. But the way we recall relationships isn’t chronological. Sometimes we remember what happened most recently, then our thoughts jump back to the beginning, then float over the middle for a while. It’s the power in the encounter that dictates what place it has in the lines of your mind.
And because the entries aren’t chronological, it throws us into the relationship too -- the way that sometimes, we fail to see the big picture when it comes to the one we love. We can’t see the forest through the trees and because we’re privy to the relationship’s unfolding and folding, the narrator’s emotions feel real and become ours. Maybe they always were ours. Have been ours. Will be ours in the future.
“The Lover’s Dictionary” is cathartic and nourishing. The language is passionate, dissonant, bitter and beautiful. The book had the same effect as sitting with a friend does, and hearing them say “I’ve felt the exact same way.”
© Coffee Fairy
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
What a weekend it was!
Friday night found me walking through the park at night with the Soulmate.
In an effort to push aside my fear of the dark, my fear of the noises my mind conjures and my fear of how many other women the Soulmate has on speed dial, I pushed my side against his side and linked my arm with his.
Extra benefit: sexiness!
My fingers lightly cupped his arm, just underneath the hem of his short-sleeved shirt.
Maybe we were chatting idly about nothing at all or maybe we weren't chatting at all. I can't remember anymore. All I remember are the visceral feelings and sensations I experienced from being so close to him.
Whichever it was, chatting or silence, my mind wandered and I stopped walking. He stopped when his arm in motion strained against my arm in rest.
An object in motion will come to rest, if the object in rest is stubborn enough!
"Don't you feel like we're in high school?" I asked.
I had suddenly recalled nights spent just like that Friday night - arms linked with a boy -- only with a crown of flowers in my hair and the remnants of a shared bottle of white zin fueling our skips down a path made of crushed stone.
More than 10 years later: the Soulmate's fingers idly tangling and disentangling in my hair instead of flowers and my lips parting when I spoke, letting out coffee-scented breaths into the soon-to-be autumnal air.
Where did that girl from high school go?
Fun and frolicking gave way to responsibility and reality.
[Side note: I love that this post isn't all about the Soulmate anymore.]
The changing of the seasons thrills me this year, but the changing of the self that happened when I wasn't looking? I'm not so thrilled about that change. I know the freeness of high school days can never completely be regained, nor should it, because student loan bills wait for no woman.
But there are some things I want to bring back.
Skipping. Even if it's only to the loo.
Flower power. It's a lot harder to be bogged down by bullshit when there are yellow daffodils by your side.
Lastly, high school was all about recreating yourself and moving on with nary a look back. There's something to be said for that.
It didn't work out with a boy?
Move along.
It can't work out with the Soulmate?
Move along.
© Coffee Fairy
In an effort to push aside my fear of the dark, my fear of the noises my mind conjures and my fear of how many other women the Soulmate has on speed dial, I pushed my side against his side and linked my arm with his.
Extra benefit: sexiness!
My fingers lightly cupped his arm, just underneath the hem of his short-sleeved shirt.
Maybe we were chatting idly about nothing at all or maybe we weren't chatting at all. I can't remember anymore. All I remember are the visceral feelings and sensations I experienced from being so close to him.
Whichever it was, chatting or silence, my mind wandered and I stopped walking. He stopped when his arm in motion strained against my arm in rest.
An object in motion will come to rest, if the object in rest is stubborn enough!
"Don't you feel like we're in high school?" I asked.
I had suddenly recalled nights spent just like that Friday night - arms linked with a boy -- only with a crown of flowers in my hair and the remnants of a shared bottle of white zin fueling our skips down a path made of crushed stone.
More than 10 years later: the Soulmate's fingers idly tangling and disentangling in my hair instead of flowers and my lips parting when I spoke, letting out coffee-scented breaths into the soon-to-be autumnal air.
Where did that girl from high school go?
Fun and frolicking gave way to responsibility and reality.
[Side note: I love that this post isn't all about the Soulmate anymore.]
The changing of the seasons thrills me this year, but the changing of the self that happened when I wasn't looking? I'm not so thrilled about that change. I know the freeness of high school days can never completely be regained, nor should it, because student loan bills wait for no woman.
But there are some things I want to bring back.
Skipping. Even if it's only to the loo.
Flower power. It's a lot harder to be bogged down by bullshit when there are yellow daffodils by your side.
Lastly, high school was all about recreating yourself and moving on with nary a look back. There's something to be said for that.
It didn't work out with a boy?
Move along.
It can't work out with the Soulmate?
Move along.
© Coffee Fairy
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A Place of My Own
Four years ago, I bought a calendar called "A Place of My Own." Each month featured delightful drawings of cluttered homes, porches and yards, complete with lazy cats.
My clutterbug nature understands clutter and cats completely!
I half-joked to my friend that I got the calendar until I could get a real place of my own. Since then, I've stayed in places, but they just haven't felt like my own.
What makes a house a home? What makes a place a place of my own? I've got a list of 'feels like home' necessities. Books, seashells, candles, incense and teacups make up part of the list. And even though the places I've lived have contained many of the items in my 'feels like home' list, they haven't felt like a place of my own.
I'm not sure what ingredients are missing, but I'm not going to worry about it. I figure, when I find that right mix, I'll know that I've found a place of my own.
Until then, there's a lot of hominess out there that will tide me over until I do find the right mix! One such 'tide me over' tidbit is a blog I've loved since I first read it some months ago: "My Shabby Streamside Studio," by Sandy Foster.
The blog's author has a haven from the outside world, a tiny Victorian cottage that truly is a place of her own. Beauty abounds in the shabby-chic oasis and is inspirational. It nourishes the soul. Enjoy!
© Coffee Fairy
My clutterbug nature understands clutter and cats completely!
I half-joked to my friend that I got the calendar until I could get a real place of my own. Since then, I've stayed in places, but they just haven't felt like my own.
What makes a house a home? What makes a place a place of my own? I've got a list of 'feels like home' necessities. Books, seashells, candles, incense and teacups make up part of the list. And even though the places I've lived have contained many of the items in my 'feels like home' list, they haven't felt like a place of my own.
I'm not sure what ingredients are missing, but I'm not going to worry about it. I figure, when I find that right mix, I'll know that I've found a place of my own.
Until then, there's a lot of hominess out there that will tide me over until I do find the right mix! One such 'tide me over' tidbit is a blog I've loved since I first read it some months ago: "My Shabby Streamside Studio," by Sandy Foster.
The blog's author has a haven from the outside world, a tiny Victorian cottage that truly is a place of her own. Beauty abounds in the shabby-chic oasis and is inspirational. It nourishes the soul. Enjoy!
© Coffee Fairy
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The New Resolution
New Year's resolutions are overrated. This year, it's all about the fall resolution: be it to fall in love, fall out of love or fall into -- leggings!
Forget all that serious nonsense from the first two options - falling into fashion is the way to go! If there's one thing I've learned from Fergie, it's that a Prada dress never broke my heart before!
In my case, it's a dress that I've bought from the clearance rack at the mall, but you get the idea! I'm a bargain basement Carrie Bradshaw and so OK with that!
This fall, I plan on loving leggings paired with tunics or dresses. Belts and boots to accompany them? Now that's a resolution I can keep!
The Frisky website posted a pictorial on "10 Leggings You'll Love for Fall," and they are cute!
10 Lovely Leggings
All this writing about leggings makes me think of skinny jeans. I've been avoiding them because of their name.
Never doubt the power of words, people!
My skinny days having rounded into curvy days, I thought, "well, there's the end of that trend for me!"
I continued to think that way until one day, when I caught sight of my legging-clad reflection in a glass building and had a startling thought!
Leggings are the same as skinny jeans, just with a different material! An entire branch of the family fashion tree opened up to me.
I've entered an entirely new jean pool! Come on in - the fashion's fine!
© Coffee Fairy
Forget all that serious nonsense from the first two options - falling into fashion is the way to go! If there's one thing I've learned from Fergie, it's that a Prada dress never broke my heart before!
In my case, it's a dress that I've bought from the clearance rack at the mall, but you get the idea! I'm a bargain basement Carrie Bradshaw and so OK with that!
This fall, I plan on loving leggings paired with tunics or dresses. Belts and boots to accompany them? Now that's a resolution I can keep!
The Frisky website posted a pictorial on "10 Leggings You'll Love for Fall," and they are cute!
10 Lovely Leggings
All this writing about leggings makes me think of skinny jeans. I've been avoiding them because of their name.
Never doubt the power of words, people!
My skinny days having rounded into curvy days, I thought, "well, there's the end of that trend for me!"
I continued to think that way until one day, when I caught sight of my legging-clad reflection in a glass building and had a startling thought!
Leggings are the same as skinny jeans, just with a different material! An entire branch of the family fashion tree opened up to me.
I've entered an entirely new jean pool! Come on in - the fashion's fine!
© Coffee Fairy
Monday, August 23, 2010
An Arrow of Carnations, Between the Shadow and the Soul
I had a run-in with the Soulmate. It's usually at coffee shops; I'm sure you're not surprised!
"I have to tell you a story," Soulmate said.
He always did have a fine way of startling me with his non sequitur-like actions.
Soulmate put his arms around me and hugged me. Normally I would have been thrilled. But instead, I found myself trying to maneuver around him. He tightened his arms around me.
My mind went into panic mode for a few seconds, trying to find my way out of this potentially sticky situation. It reminded me of when I was little, with the feral cat who used to hang out around our house. I coaxed him into the house one day and he flipped out, banging into walls and glass doors, trying to find a way out.
Like the cat bumping into walls, I kept on bumping against Soulmate's arm, looking for the weak spot that would give way so I could escape. All the while, Soulmate is uttering sweet nothings - "I miss you and I love you and you could just call me sometime and .... ok."
His sweet nothings might have turned into sweet somethings except they trailed off because I dodged the advances and walked away, the "and .... ok" ringing in my ears for days afterward.
The next exchange I had with the Soulmate was a mix of springy elevation and wintry groundedness. He told me that sometimes, he just wants to see me and talk. I felt like I was hearing a line.
"But you're never there," Soulmate said.
"Wait, what?" I said. "You drive by my apartment?"
In the four second pause that passed, I saw panic in his eyes, like I had trapped him, just like he had trapped me outside the coffee shop.
"Sometimes," he said.
My insides turned mushy and I felt myself being lifted on this euphoric wave. It was like this little green daffodil shoot had poked its way out of the hard ground.
Hope sprang eternal because the man drove by my apartment!
But then I came crashing back to reality; he was probably only giving me a line.
"You drive by my apartment," I repeated. "No you don't."
And I slammed my hand down on the green daffodil shoot and pushed it back into the ground.
© Coffee Fairy
"I have to tell you a story," Soulmate said.
He always did have a fine way of startling me with his non sequitur-like actions.
Soulmate put his arms around me and hugged me. Normally I would have been thrilled. But instead, I found myself trying to maneuver around him. He tightened his arms around me.
My mind went into panic mode for a few seconds, trying to find my way out of this potentially sticky situation. It reminded me of when I was little, with the feral cat who used to hang out around our house. I coaxed him into the house one day and he flipped out, banging into walls and glass doors, trying to find a way out.
Like the cat bumping into walls, I kept on bumping against Soulmate's arm, looking for the weak spot that would give way so I could escape. All the while, Soulmate is uttering sweet nothings - "I miss you and I love you and you could just call me sometime and .... ok."
His sweet nothings might have turned into sweet somethings except they trailed off because I dodged the advances and walked away, the "and .... ok" ringing in my ears for days afterward.
The next exchange I had with the Soulmate was a mix of springy elevation and wintry groundedness. He told me that sometimes, he just wants to see me and talk. I felt like I was hearing a line.
"But you're never there," Soulmate said.
"Wait, what?" I said. "You drive by my apartment?"
In the four second pause that passed, I saw panic in his eyes, like I had trapped him, just like he had trapped me outside the coffee shop.
"Sometimes," he said.
My insides turned mushy and I felt myself being lifted on this euphoric wave. It was like this little green daffodil shoot had poked its way out of the hard ground.
Hope sprang eternal because the man drove by my apartment!
But then I came crashing back to reality; he was probably only giving me a line.
"You drive by my apartment," I repeated. "No you don't."
And I slammed my hand down on the green daffodil shoot and pushed it back into the ground.
© Coffee Fairy
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Exes and Oh No's!
After I watched "Scott Pilgrim vs. The World" on an unseasonably cold and rainy summer night, it occurred to me - "Don't we all have to defeat evil exes?"
The concept of the movie is based on Bryan Lee O'Malley’s graphic novel series, where Scott Pilgrim falls for Ramona Flowers, and then has to defeat her seven evil exes in order to move forward with her.
And isn't that the trick? In order to advance personal relationships, we have to figure out how to move past those evil exes blocking the way.
I've got three. One was Suffocation Central. One was Mr. Wrong - he couldn't understand me and made me feel like I was Ms. Wrong because I didn't fit the mold he made for me. One was my Soulmate.
But not in that romcom definition, but in the "Eat, Pray, Love" definition - a person who breaks you down, teaches you what you're missing, then leaves. The soulmate is often the hardest one to get over because for a hot second, you see what you really need and they make you think you can find it with them.
So how do we get over these evil exes? What if we don't have our own Scott Pilgrim to fight for us? What if we built the walls too high for even Scott Pilgrim to get through? What if we don't want a Scott Pilgrim fighting our battles for us?
And there it is - the first step to defeating the evil exes is knowing that it's you who has to get past them first.
© Coffee Fairy
The concept of the movie is based on Bryan Lee O'Malley’s graphic novel series, where Scott Pilgrim falls for Ramona Flowers, and then has to defeat her seven evil exes in order to move forward with her.
And isn't that the trick? In order to advance personal relationships, we have to figure out how to move past those evil exes blocking the way.
I've got three. One was Suffocation Central. One was Mr. Wrong - he couldn't understand me and made me feel like I was Ms. Wrong because I didn't fit the mold he made for me. One was my Soulmate.
But not in that romcom definition, but in the "Eat, Pray, Love" definition - a person who breaks you down, teaches you what you're missing, then leaves. The soulmate is often the hardest one to get over because for a hot second, you see what you really need and they make you think you can find it with them.
So how do we get over these evil exes? What if we don't have our own Scott Pilgrim to fight for us? What if we built the walls too high for even Scott Pilgrim to get through? What if we don't want a Scott Pilgrim fighting our battles for us?
And there it is - the first step to defeating the evil exes is knowing that it's you who has to get past them first.
© Coffee Fairy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)