what matters is this: the kingdom of heaven is good. but heaven on earth is better. thinking is good but living is better. li-young lee, self-help for fellow refugees.

my days are mostly happy now. i’m starting my new job in a few weeks even though i’ve already been pulled into a lot of work for the group. the frenchman and i have now settled somewhat nicely into our new relationship; and i am a happy girlfriend.

i forgot how falling in love is like turning a fresh page over and over again. haven’t done it in a long while (since the doctor) and i can’t remember it being so easy. it probably wasn’t with him; everything with us was so mired in shit and dirty with humiliation and abject misery. and i thought if we could save ourselves, that the redemption (which never came) would be worth everything, even my life.

wrong ladies, don’t do that shit. don’t date men that wear you down with their bullshit, their inability to see you and want you and have you. so strange dating the frenchman who is mostly normal. psychologically speaking that is. what’s normal? he’s content with happiness, he is okay with it, he can endure it and bear it and make it grow. other fucked up people, who shall remain nameless just as i am nameless, didn’t grow up with happiness and therefore find it confusing and strange and almost uncomfortable. and if left alone with it, would destroy it.

so no doubt i am grateful even though it’s so strange how i can’t see a future with the frenchman. not to say i don’t dream of big rings and sandy-haired children with almond shaped eyes, no doubt i am still a woman. but i don’t know, i’ve always been able to determine the exact probability of things happening, to infuse the future with my desire and therefore change the course of it (not necessarily for the best), but it’s all black, all 50/50 with him. it may be lost tomorrow, or later this evening but i feel neither fear nor hope. word, i’m old.

taking off to san francisco this weekend for a short vacation with him. he puts his arm around me and curls his fingers on my shoulder. at night, i kiss his very thin neck. i speak pidgin french at which he laughs. we talk about the meaning of words and i read him poetry that he does not enjoy.

he liked this one though:

it doesn’t matter. what matters is this:

the kingdom of heaven is good.

but heaven on earth is better.

thinking is good.

but living is better.

alone in your favorite chair

with a book you enjoy

is fine. but spooning

is even better.