Conserning love

Okay I was far from being finished when I wrote that first entry today.

This has been a long cold year, and winter is finally over. Although my hands are calloused from the severity of holding the reigns tied to this year's steed, I'm still all the merrier for it-- you see, I have hope. Hope and goodwill, and love.

I've finally decided love is a word that I really am fond of. Love isn't going to be replacing Awesome in my book of overused phrases, but love is a wonderful word. It represents so much, and it's even in my favorite quote-- "Everything in life is done either because of love, or the lack there of." Those words fell sweetly off the lips of Mike (who's last name excapes me these days), the acting coach from John Robert Powers. He was a little nutty, but then again, aren't all actors? Anyway, many of the girls at Powers dispised him, because he taught rigouous acting exersizes (they thought they were boring!), he would lecture us constantally on how to think like actors, and demanded that we put emotion into commericals for products that didn't exisist. But his passion swayed me into beleiving in acting, and still inspires me to this very day.

I don't really have any "heros." The people who have inspired me aren't the type of people who do heroic things, they just had an individulistic world view, and stuck by it-- passionately. And that passion, that fevor-- it was their love, and I respected that.

Anyway, I was once kind of afraid of the word love, and the subtle prommises it made- the vunderablity that it spread accross the soul of she who'd dare utter it's calling. But man, fuck it- I'll say what I want, and if I mean it, so be it. I'll let my flesh be opened, probed and examined by scores of people with lemonade dipped fingers. My love is my own, so you can just kiss my motherfuckin' ass black maumba.

Among the very awesome things (See toldja awesome wasn't goin' nowhere) Frank gave me for christmas was a very pretty, simple, silver frame. In the frame was a picture of he and I, from my birthday this year. I'm laughing like a retard (as I often am in photographs) and he's smirking. I was looking at the picture and I thought, "Hey, I really love that guy."

Chris Rock is right. If you love someone, you can't just love the white part of the bread- you have to love the crust. You have to love the fucking crumbs in the bottom of the toaster. Frank, like most human beings, has a lot of crumbs in the bottom of his toaster. I've tasted a few of them, and they often make me laugh. There are plenty of bigger crumbs down there that I haven't had the opportunity to taste-- or maybe I've just been too afraid to reach out my hand and put them in my mouth. Who knows. But I have every intention fo doing so.

I often go on and on about how I want to care about everyone and what they do-- and my passionate tiryads about how there's always hope, and anyone can do anything they set their mind to, right? That's hard for me to do all the time, because I wear myself out trying to care about everyone. I can't love everyone, and in fact, I don't. I can't put forth the effort to care genuinely for everyone I deem friendworthy, and in fact I mean not to. (heh) Well, I've felt love for individuals before this year. Love is pretty intense when it flows through my veins. But intensities aside, I would have to say that the love I feel for Frank is certianally the most geniune and unspoiled.

So I opened up a little, and let those lemony probing hands into my sore flesh, but I don't care. I can openly profess how I feel, and the sting of being afraid is almost gone entierly. I can hope that I'll continue to be open and perhaps learn to verbalize my emotions more frequently.

2004 is upon us.

Bring it on.

Love and adoration,

pam