Rest, read, write. Repeat.

I haven't had my ipod on since Dec. 23. I was on vacation without access to my laptop and it ran out of juice. I let it chill until New Year's eve when I took it to A's house to charge it back to life. In true Ingenue fashion I left my lover's house that night sans ipod and got down to the business at hand. That business being learning how to entertain myself on subway rides w/o my commuting playlist. Hindsight being 20/20 I think this was really the best medicine I could have found myself. The last two weeks have been devoted to reading, writing and I'd love to say 'rythmetic, but I've never been down with the numbers game.

It's amazing how much of my life is whittled away by the constant need to entertain myself. A remarked on it the other day while I was absentmindedly checking my email, watching Factory Girl, reading the latest tome of an amazing woman, and eating soba noodles while wondering out loud if it might be nice to get a pizza. This is me smack dab in the middle of my monkey mind realm and what I love best about A is that he spots it. And points it out. And ridicules me for my insanity.

For instance: I like to watch the same movies again and again and again. I don't necessarily watch them per se, I just like to have them on in the background because I find it tremendously comforting. And in this crazy world don't we need all the comfort we can get? A, on the other hand, considers this nothing short of a cinematic travesty. In His world, if a filmmaker put all of his blood, sweat, and tears into a film for better or worse he/she deserves a viewer's undivided attention. If there's an important movie he wants to watch with me he refuses to press play until I have dropped my book or whatever else I'm doing. He doesn't even watch movies he really likes more than three times and that to me is just plain batshit. My god, I've watched Rent 43 times and I didn't even like that movie.

What's strange is this. Lately, I only act like that at His house. You would think that I would reserve this kind of tail chasing for the privacy of my own home. Not so! When I'm at my house I flow pretty peacefully between reading, yoga, eating, maybe some tv, a nice bath, ahhhh sleep. It is totally not an issue. I also spend a fair amount of time avoiding my dishes, but that's a blog for another time. No, it's only at His house where I scurry around trying to fill every moment with at least 4 mutually exclusive activities. Why would that be?

The easy answer here is that my boyfriend scares me. Not in the scary, abusive, misogynist sort of way, not at all! A is the opposite of all that is skeevy. But I really don't know how to sit quietly in the presence of such love and just enjoy it. It pretty much freaks me out. And when I get freaked out I act like a two year old and demand my favorite movies, and sugary treats to dope me up. When I'm freaked I can't be still, it feels much more reasonable to be darting between a few objectives. Moving targets and all that. But A sees all and A mentions all. Because of this award-winning character trait of his, I am getting a much clearer picture of myself. It's like Me through the eyes of the Man Burdened with the Task of Loving Me. And my ego loves taking something that's actually quite simple and making it as complex as is egoically possible.

So this is actually quite good for me. It's good to have these mental blocks popping up so I can review them and see them dissolve under the light of my presence. My favorite moments in life are the ones where my mind stays pretty much out of it and the experience overwhelms the need for analysis. It's good to remember. Is a life without silence a life worth living? Is a love without stillness a love worth loving? Well obviously, yes, all love is worth it, but you get my drift. I'm just saying.

xoxo Ingenue