Day, I don’t know…what is it…14? 3.1.11

I knew it was March 1. It’s Emmy’s birthday today. She’s 12 years old, which I’m told is a pretty ripe old age for a cat, and that 14-16 is more the norm for a lifespan than, say 19 or 20. She’s entered the golden years. Emmy is a very good cat. She is almost perfectly behaved, but people have overlooked that in the past and only seen her seemingly unsocial personality. She’s actually quite social, she just has to be in the right frame of mind. She’s never caused me a problem, really, she’s just a good friend. Happy Birthday, Emma. And she is with Ross standing before her birthday cake, chocolate. Ross, Marta, and I went to Hot yoga tonight, and it was excellent. We drank wine and ate cake after in honor of my Em. Thank goodness for Marta, thank goodness for wine and chocolate cake. Thank goodness for Adele and the violin among other types of music.

I love you Ross. I love you Em. I love you Mom. And Aunt Terrie.

I am seeing that relationships are not so linear. It isn’t that you are together and then you breakup and then you either never see each other again or you get back together. There are tentacles of all the different relationships you’ve ever had in your life weaving throughout your life and your insides, and love probably never dies, it gets hard and fucking sad and intense when you get older and go through life and see how people can be, how mean or cruel, and alternately how wonderful and loving and selfless. There are no rules, no games, no bull shit. Just be goddamned good to one another because every one of us is going to die, is going to become decrepid and old and lose people and see loved ones die, and be cheated and heartbroken in one way or another. Be nice because the alternative is unreasonable and you can’t take it back, not really.

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