As if it were the first day we met ....

By "The One", I don't necessarily mean that there is only a solitary person in the world meant for you and if you never meet them you will be doomed to a loveless life of loneliness and bitter gall.

I don't think it is that simple.

But do you believe that there is One Person that you will love in a way that no other person on earth could ever, will ever, approach? I'm referring to the kind of love where you could intellectually admit to yourself that you've loved people before The One, and you understand that you could love again after them, but you know deeply that all other loves would forever be different from the height and width and depth and scope of that One Love. I'm talking about a kind of love that transcends infatuation, lust, puppy love, or deep friendship; a love that encompasses all of those things but they are peripheral to it. It's the kind of love that fills you up so completely you can't contain it no matter how valiantly you try. It spills and leaks and stains your cheeks. It embarrasses you in its abundance and the way it makes you want to tell the man who sells you sandwiches at the deli all about it, and you don't even care when he cringes with the annoying, cloying sweetness of your speech and that he only cares if you want avocado on your turkey sandwich or not.

The deli man doesn't even know your name, but you want him to know every little thing about the One you Love.

And you know deep inside that this One ... the One ... you could never walk away from the person who "rearranges the jagged stars of your past and smiles at you with love letter eyes"

Anatomy of a Stream of Consciousness

[begin]

warmth of a hug, light of a smile, passion of a kiss, ferocity of sex, fireworks, brilliant stars, shattering glass, goose feathers, cold water, moments of silence, bits of sunshine, shadows of moonlight, golden beams.

pause.

laughter of a child, crushing of a can, leaves crunching in the winter, crisp wind on a sunny day, clear blue sky.

pause

cat's soft fur, bird's sharp beak, dog's panting breath, the burn at the back of your throat when drinking a cold carbonated beverage first thing in the morning or when you are parched thirsty

[gasp]

pause --

(longer pause because that last stream exerted more energy)

[refocus]

tinny laugh of a sitcom track ..... clickity click clack of fingers tapping on a keyboard ..... gurgling of a fish tank ....

[stream slows down ... .my brain now is recovering ... it begins to notice its surroundings, I suppose]

[refocus]

the sound of my heartbeat, beating not for myself, but for you.

[you see, my thoughts begin and end with you. you are the bookend that holds me together]

Aroma Therapy

I have a minor problem: I can't taste or smell. Due to an error on my part, I had an experience resulting in a skull fracture that damaged my olfactory nerve, which controls the part of our brain that register smell and aids in detecting tastes.

I say minor problem because most people don't understand; they take their senses for granted.

The smell of coffee grinds, the smooth taste of good beer, the aroma of coffee or bacon in the morning, the rich velvety taste of Valentine's chocolate, the sweet and intoxicating perfume of a newborn baby, the crisp scent of autumn -- all things I can no longer appreciate. Things that just serve as a distant memory; a placemark to remind me of a mistake I made once in my life.

I joke about it now; it is useful at times. I can shoot vodka straight (without even making the squinchy face), and I can be around sweaty nasty people without gagging. (Okay, maybe the last one isn't that useful but what if I am on a subway full of sweaty basketball players. I cannot foresee a situation like this ever happening but you never know .... ).

I joke about it but it still bothers me deep inside. Our sense of smell is our livelihood. We connect certain smells with memories we have stored in reference to the smell. We associate certain tastes with certain foods that invoke feelings of comfort or feelings of release.

It is a depressing, stripping that leaves me feelings robbed and empty at times. While "favorite" dreams include sex with supermodels and winning the lottery, mine usually involves me being able to taste a Baby Ruth. Pretty hot stuff.

So as you go about your day today, take time to smell the roses (pun intended). Take time to savor that last bite of Porterhouse. Swish a good wine around in your mouth. Pause and consider what your life would be like without that taste or smell.

Hold your nose for a minute and ponder what your life would be like if that was your existence. Then welcome yourself to my world.

I Do.

Six months since my world turned upside down. Six months of joy of discover.

Six months since MW walked into my life.

It seems like such a short time to others, but man, 6 months is a lifetime to me.

You know, I feel like I live a hundred lifetimes -- a HUNDRED -- in a day. This means that in every month that has passed, we have learned who we are ... who we are not ... and what we want out of each other. We are lovers, parents, friends, therapists, cooks, Maguyvers, teachers, students, children, adults ... and so much more. We learn a little more about each other every day. It is like an adventure.

One week ago, MW took our relationship to the next level and asked me to be his wife.

It was a beautiful, impromptu proposal ... spontaneous and full of the love I know he holds for me in his heart.

I said yes. Yes to a life with him. Yes to accept all the love he can give me, as yes to hoping I can give him half as much ....

So this, is my proposal to you, MW:

I love you. I have known it since the day I met you. It grows every day and expands my heart, making it beat only for you. Never doubt that you are the only man that will ever excite me ... ever make my heart skip a beat ... ever make me miss your touch so much my body aches for you.

I will be your wife. I will take your name and hope to make you as happy as you have made me.

That is my promise to you ...

Follow the Blue Brick Road?

In, "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", Indiana performed a number of tasks at the end of the film that required him to use mythical information to survive. One of the tasks required him to find an invisible path that bridged two cliffs together and travel the path. To find the path, Indiana threw some sand into the air and watched where it fell. The sand highlighted the path.

My dream last night, a rather odd dream, mirrors this task on a semantic level.

I dreamed about the words people speak in a semantic "Alice in Wonderland" way. When spoken out loud, these words left invisible brick trails, detected by this "semantic sand" that only I possessed. These trails were a sort of aura that allowed me to see what sentences were motivated by hidden bias. To detect the bias, I would throw the sand on the trail. If the word trail was free of bias, the "bricks" that lined the path would have no color; I would only see the outline. However, if the word trail was motivated by bias or other hidden motivations, the trail showed up as soft blue bricks.

For example: Someone is discussing the qualifications of Barack Obama (an Illinois senator who in my opinion is poised to be the Democratic Presidential candidate) and they say they don't believe Obama has enough experience to be the POTUS and would not support him as a candidate. I throw sand on their "sentence path" after they are finished speaking. If that person truly believed lack of experience to be the driving factor as to why Obama should not be POTUS, their "word path" would not register any color, signaling it was composed without bias. However, if their words were motivated by their belief that an African-American should not be POTUS or by their (false) belief that Obama is Muslim, their "word path" would show up in blue because their racism and/or prejudices were affecting their judgement of Obama.

Some people feel powerful when they dream about taking over the world or becoming President or saving a loved one from certain death. I felt powerful when I woke up from this dream because I was able to detect a communicator's true intentions. Kenneth Burke, who is my communication theorist idol, theorized that motivation is root of communication because it reveals underlying and sometimes subconscious foundations that people use as the base of the thoughts they choose to orate. Those who can understand the "root" of what communication hold an ultimate power because they have a sort of "x-ray vision" to detect BS. Even well-spoken BS. BS that you never thought was a part of the person's motivation.

Think about the repercussions of this dream. What if we all had the power to unmask a communicator's true intentions? What if we were able to know, without a doubt, that a speaker's opinion was colored by racism, sexism, or other hidden motivations? I am not talking about the times we know a speaker is driven by impure motives, like used-car dealerships or politicians. No one needs semantic dust to detect the BS behind those speakers. I am talking the time Mr. Manager skipped you for the promotion and gave it to Katy in accounting. You thought you were passed over because Katy was there before you or because you were 10 minutes late 2 weeks ago, so you don't really think that much of it. Little do you know, Katy was promoted because she caught Ms. Assistant Manager polishing Mr. Manager's apple last Friday. This has biased his decision. Wouldn't it be nice to know that?

This is the power of persuasion. Just thinking about thepossibilities makes me giddy.