Tuesday, December 30, 2003

Of ponderings and musings

It occurred to me yesterday to wonder how Effie knew that I was friends with Jie, and why she e-mailed me asking for her college instead of someone Jie actually talked to, like perhaps Zoe.
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Thursday, December 11, 2003

During Thanksgiving, I listed her among the things I was thankful for.

I've been reading the book Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe, in which John Boswell lists the difficulties of translating certain texts. English simply doesn't have the words for certain concepts which are common in other languages, or rather other cultures.

Take the word 'love'. It's a loaded word, given all sorts of connotations by its constant use in movies, televisions, novels, comics, any narratological medium you care to name. But it mostly has the connotation of either erotic/romantic interest, or a familial bond; you aren't expected to use it to refer to people who are "just friends."

But anything else is too weak to describe the way I feel for her. For a long while I abstained from saying anything; then, as we said goodnight to each other, I would tell her I "wuff" her, just to make clear the fact that it isn't a romantic interest. But wuff is a diminutive, a play-word. It's not strong enough to express how much I care for her.

Neither, really, is the mere exchange of "I love you" and "I love you, too" as parting ritual. But if I were to tell her how deeply I care for her, it would sound as if I would have to be on bended knee, presenting her with a ring. During our conversations, it's become something of a game for me to try and find a way to twist anything she says into a flattering compliment of her. And that may be how she sees it, as just a game. She may not understand that, while I may not be serious, I'm not being insincere, either. I mean every word I say to her. Every compliment.

I don't remember really crying in... well, I don't remember really crying. But whenever I think about her, about her being happy, I feel so happy myself that I tear up and want to cry.

I started this entry about trying to distinguish this love for her from a romantic love, but maybe there really isn't so much a difference. But all the same, a certain gypsy shouldn't feel she has any competition from me. I just... think I needed to write this down.
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