Anathallo. (Ask and you shall receive.)

I went on a date tonight. We had a lot of things in common, not so much musical tastes, but life and our mistakes and our God. I opened the door for her. I complimented her jacket, which had been her mother’s before it was hers. She’s very focused on school. You might notice that this is a sort of emotionally-disconnected telling of who she is. As much as we talked, and she opened up about herself, and me about me, I feel like we never connected, which I am prone to call “she-is-not-into-me”. To be honest, the fact that I feel that way is probably why I’m writing about her with such flatness. I’ve disconnected myself.

Before I get into trying to open myself up and reconnect to the whole thing, as we drove in her parking lot to drop her off, the Andrew Bird song “The Happy Birthday Song” was playing, and had she had any interest in me at all, it would have been a good time to look at each other and smile, and say “let’s do this again”. Yes, it would have been awesome. (We’ll touch on that later?) When she got out of the car, after kinda jumping in front of any attempt to walk her to her door (which I had no intention of doing), she said “I’ll see you at work tomorrow” (since she interns there). The CD jumped back to the beginning, and AB’s “Sovay” played. The song sort of acted as a hammock to my slightly fallen spirit. I know I shouldn’t get upset over someone not being interested in me, I know that I am unique, like a vase. I don’t know why a vase, I guess I just sort of see myself as one, purple and tall and breaking in spots, and paint erased in parts, with a solid footing on the ground. I am quite happy being set out on the front lawn, catching water as it falls from the sky, letting it fill me and being connected to nature, and then evaporating from within, and being dry inside, feeling my paint crack (do they paint the inside’s of vase’s?) and I like my life, rain is so important to it, and I need to appreciate more the famines. Cracked paint is either a sign of wisdom or folly.

Sorry, that was a bit poetic wasn’t it? Anyway, I’m going to try and reconnect myself to her. I’m not used to dating. I’m not used to experimenting, talking about myself when it might go nowhere, introducing myself. Learning about her was interesting, she’s human, which I guess most people find out about their crushes whence they go on a date with them. What did I want? I wanted her to give me a look of assurance that said, “you interest me” and it’s tiring that it didn’t happen. That’s selfish. Do most relationships start for selfish reasons? I feel like it. Even my relationship with God, I only became a christian (at first) because I couldn’t sleep with all the demonic visions I was having as I tried to sleep. Anyway, off of that topic, She’s a really good person. She is beautiful inside and outside. Just, I imagine her soul and her organs and I imagine them placed among fields of daisies and, oh look, there’s her heart! Boy it’s beautiful in here! But, now I’m just romanticizing. It seems I only feel comfortable about liking someone (whether they like me or not) if I can write beautifully about them. Not that organs among daisies was very powerful, but it was my version of lovey-dovey, of optimism, of seeing how she was created. Freakin’-A, christianity is very lovey-dovey. Oh look! There I am talking about God again! And how. Anyway, oh God is very important.

Have I lost you? I don’t know. I’m tired, and I’m listening to Anathallo (a band) which is greek for “to renew” and they actually sing Psalm 139:5 in Japanese, and it’s great. The girl is focused on school, perhaps too much, and I should not be objective, I need to allow myself to react. It makes me sad that I am not the guy who leads her to concentrate less on school. I mean that in the best way possible, but it seems so — selfish now, as always. In the beginning of a relationship, unless it began as a friendship, how can I not care about the betterment of me? How do you start a relationship with someone like Christ would?

By genuinely not caring about getting anything back. (How? Prayer. A lot of prayer.)

There is an ant crawling around on my 3-day old plate, alone. I think he’s a scout. I will promptly confuse him by bringing him out to the kitchen, but I will not kill him. Someone must live to tell the tale of the miraculous kitchen arrival.

Anata wa mae kara
Ushiro kara,
Watashi o tori kakomi.
Mi te o watashi no ue ni
O kare mashita.