The 'L' Word

"So, before I give myself more time to over analyze (a common pastime of mine) and go through ever possible what if situation in my head I'm just going to go for it. For once I'm just going to say how I feel and worry about the consequences later. I love you too Sab." - Sorcha G. Dubhsioc, August 15, 2010

I love you.

Three of the most common words in the English language. In all their varied forms they can create an infinity of meanings but they never seem so powerful as when they're strung together. I've said that sentence countless time before to family and friends, both in sincerity and sarcasm. However, the way I said it on August 15, 2010 was very different from any way I'd ever said it before.

That's the great and terrible thing about the word love. It's not a constant. The way you love your dog is not the same way you love ice cream or the way you love that book you just read. Other languages tend to get more specific with their definitions of love like querer and amar in Spanish or eros and agape in Greek.

That's why love is so complicated. It's easy to know that you love but it's hard to know why, how, or even if you should. I loved Sabrael from the moment I met him but the love I have now is not the same as it was then. It's not even the same as it was last month or last week. Love is not static, it's dynamic and always changing. It is when love becomes fixed and settled that it begins to die.

I can't give you tips or clues. I can't tell you how to hold onto your love forever, I'm not even sure if I know how to do that for myself. Love just doesn't work that way. Just as it is different among all the things that you 'love' it's different among all the people who love. That's because love isn't an emotion. It's a conglomeration of feelings, experiences, interpretations, and observations. It's messy and complicated and irrational. It will never be easy but that's what makes it fun.

Considering how severe my control issues are, telling you that I loved you, Sabrael, was one of the scariest things I've ever done in my life. And every day I'm so grateful that I did. Every day I tell it to you again not to remind you but because every day I fall in love with you all over again. And I never want that to end.

So until next time add all the words for love to your custom dictionary and have a great weekend.

P.S. - Per usual, this week came bundled up with it's own set of problems and difficulties but still I woke up this morning with a huge smile on my face as I thought of you. You've been so patient and gentle with me and I can't tell you what that meant to me. It was nice having a bit of a week off from crazy projects and just be able to relax with you in my down time. I'm really excited though about the next few articles we have coming up and I can't wait to work on them with you. Oh! Also, congrats on landing the new job! I'm so proud of you! I know you'll be amazing at it. <3

Adopt-a-Couple: The Story of Miss A and Mr. B

Of course I know what it is to have long distance relationships. All of the most meaningful relationships I’ve had have either started long distance or have ended up as long distance. I know few people with the patience or the strength to deal with these circumstances, but among the people I do know, one of them knows just what an ordeal it can be, because it seems he has been unlucky enough to have quite a few people who are important to him be far off. But recently he has entered into a relationship (and as of this posting they have made clear their feelings, but I don’t care, I declared them a couple long before that) that once more sent his heart across far off distances. This person whom has captured his heart is one Miss A. And who is he? He is Mr. B, one of my closest friend and my former room mate in Los Angeles. (Points for knowing the reference.)

Now I don’t know too much about Miss A, I met her through Sorcha, and what I have gotten to know is this: in the world of wordsmiths, Miss A’s brush is blunt force trauma in the form of flat truth and brutal sarcasm that would make any forensic linguist turn green. Look at that verb splatter! She is fun to interact with, much like many of Sorcha’s friends, I hope to get to know more about her in the future. Mr. B is my area of expertise here. He is a bit of an ass, but in the way that makes you laugh even if your the victim. His taste in music is dubious, but at the same time he has been known to adapt to genres that make you pause and ask: “Mr. B listens to this? You sure?” Now, when thinking about it, Miss A and Mr. B sort of go together like Beans and Potatoes [AN: Edited thanks to a wonderful suggestion]. You think it’s weird but by god if it doesn’t just work really well and it becomes your new favorite side dish. Truth be told they are adorable, and while I avoid mixing into their business, what I have learned always makes me smile and just reminds me that Sorcha and I aren’t alone, and sometimes hearing about someone else’s struggles reminds you about how you should never quit.

Now, the reason I reference Adopt-a-Couple is because it was actually Sorcha and I (mainly her if you ask her, though I felt like I helped in my own way) who introduced the two and sort of pushed them to talk. And now we are determined to do the same for anyone else we know. We will pair up people who would never have met otherwise and we will show the world the power of love! (The thought makes me dream of Love 2.0: A Digital Dating Site! Of course a pipe dream, but still a fun thought.) Not to say long-distance love is better than people nearby one another, but sometimes the person meant for you is someone you would never have met in your own area. But more on this comparison later I think. Until next time, remember your headphones can accessorize too, and have a great week

P.S. Thanks for your help with this article, and for dealing with sick me all week. I know I’ve been out of it, but I think I’m starting to feel better, and I think our last big talk helped a lot. I’m glad I have you in my life, and even though we didn’t announce it before, Happy 6 Monthaversary! Half a year with you by my side, and I hope to have much longer than that. I love you so much. <3

The Story That Never Was, Chapter 2

This is the Number 7 Train from East Lindell to North Everett, a hustling mode of public transport that carries its passengers on swift wings from their homes to their places of business. People get on, and off, read newspapers, browse the latest headlines on their mobile devices and blip, tweet, and google as the world passes them by in the form of brightly colored blurs. Let me point out someone special, you see her, boarding the train at the Pine Avenue stop? How could you miss her? Those electric blue stockings could stop traffic let alone the way they are paired with her pink heeled boots. She stumbles through the doorway, allowing herself to be jostled by all the rest eagerly rushing home. She’s too tired to care much any more. All her muscles ache a bit, simultaneously from sitting and standing for too long. Even so a smile still waits in the corner of her red mouth and her eyes are hopeful. It’s just been a long day, not a bad one. Her emerald green fingernails tap a simple drum line on the back of her iPod as she shifts the volume to accommodate the increase of noise on the train. That is the kind of person she is. Silly and strange. She was just the kind of girl he would have noticed, and would have made way for if he had been at the doors when they opened, but he wasn’t, and you be wondering where he is. If you wait a bit you’ll find him. Just a little longer. And there he comes, rushing up the stairs, hoping to make it before the doors slam shut, and the train abandons him to 32 minutes of silent standing. You notice his rushed steps still fall to an unheard rhythm? It’s the rhythm of his music, ruining the last of his still functioning hearing. That is the kind of person he is. Clumsy and awkward. And little do the two of them realize the machinations in motion. That their lives will be changed today forever. But don’t let me ruin it for you, just see for yourself, because this is the day they meet...

Of course there were no seats left, not that she expected anything less at 6 o’clock in the evening. She sighed and looked up at the bars that hung from the ceiling, meant to be used by standing passengers to hold on while the train was in motion. She didn’t even bother to reach for it, she knew from experience that the tiptoes it required to grasp the slippery bar weren’t worth it and would only make the strain on her poor tired legs even worse. So she did her best to wedge her way into the crowd in the hopes that they would cushion her and keep their hands out of her pockets and off her person at the same time. No dice. The train started suddenly, without the usual ringing warning bell, and she stumbled backwards towards the door where she landed against something soft and entirely too person shaped for her liking.

He reached out his hand as the doors started closing, determined to wedge himself into the packed train and be home on time for once. But as soon as the doors shut, and he attempted to make his way to the back as per his usual routine, he realized something had gone wrong. That black and white scarf had rebelled against entering the train and so now flapped outside the speeding bullet, enjoying the cool evening air. Of course He wasn’t enjoying it as much as his scarf was. His options were plain: abandon the scarf or deal with the massive middle section crowd. He didn’t hesitate, he remained close to the door. Noticing the seat right next to it, known to him as the land of jostled elbows, was available, he casually began slip in front of it, but a sudden start of the train, and the force of a tiny girl caused him to be dropped into it less than gracefully.

“I’m so sorry!” She gasped as she realized she’d landed right into a poor man’s lap. She turned around, face scarlet with embarrassment. Her preference would have been to get away from the situation as quickly as possible but the crowd had quickly sealed back up from the wake her tumble had caused and she really had nowhere to go. She popped one of her earbuds out as she managed to grab onto the armrest of his seat in an attempt to prevent the entire incident from happening again. “You’re alright aren’t you?” She asked with a big smile, hoping that if she just ignored it her blush would fade away. He had only slightly groaned when he bounced into the seat, but his face went blank, and grew somewhat flushed as he heard the sweet voice come to him through the ebb of his music. He couldn’t help but smile shyly, glancing at his lap, “I’m... I’m fine.” When he looked up, he couldn’t help but notice her holding onto his arm rest, he looked back to her, then the ceiling railing, then back to her, doing a bit of calculation in his head. It wasn’t as complex as it may have seemed, it ran down to something akin of: tiny girl plus big train equals no good. And without thinking twice, and forgetting about his scarf’s little rebellion, he stood up, and nudged a standing passenger slightly as he reached up to the rail, offering her the seat with a gentlemanly gesture one would see a maitre d’ perform as he showed a fancy young couple to their booth. “You should sit down, this train can get really bumpy sometimes,” he said more to his scarf’s back end than to her, shyness taking him over, but not enough to overcome his manners

She looked at him for a second with surprise and then her smile doubled in size. “Thanks!” She plopped down into the seat again, almost as ungracefully as she had the first time. “And they say chivalry is dead.” She crossed her legs and pulled the plaid fabric of her skirt back down over her knees, jiggling her foot slightly out of habit, forgetting for a moment the close quarters of the train car. As was her custom on public transport she did her best to avoid all eye contact possible with those around her but her gaze kept shifting to the man in the scarf who stood before her. Something about him intrigued her. Wait a second... She spun her thumb around the volume dial on her iPod and listened closely. “Voxtrot!” She blurted out suddenly. “You’re listening to Voxtrot!” He had to stare off to the side, as his usual custom of staring down would have had him staring at her legs, and that would have made the situation a little more awkward than it already was. And just as a song came to its slow closing he heard the very name of the artist leave her mouth. He blinked, then slowly turned, a bit surprised, pressing the down button on his Zune rapidly to lower the volume, he nodded, opening his mouth for a second before saying anything, “You listen to Voxtrot?” His tone was more of admiration that surprise. The sort of admiration one were to give to a great author at a book signing, prefacing every use of their name with a Mr. or Ms. just to make sure you weren’t toeing the line of fowardness. She nodded and turned up the volume of her iPod as loudly as it would go so he could hear ‘Rise Up in the Dirt’ pouring out of her headphones. “I just was.”

The garbled voice of the conductor came over the speakers. “Ah, this is my stop.” She stood up and realized too late that he was closer than she’d previously calculated. Her face was inches from his chest as she strained to look straight up at him. “Thanks again. For the seat, I mean. It was very sweet of you.” She started moving slowly towards the door but soon found something blocking her way. The stretched knit of his scarf was strung between her and the door. He couldn’t help but smile, he liked that song, it was one of his favorites, and as she stood he noticed how close she was, it wasn’t uncomfortable like it was when other people bumped into him on the train. And so, in his head, more math. This time it was more complex. His stop was 15 minutes further ahead, her stop was now, adding in his lack of desire to stop talking to her equaled out to getting home late, but with a smile. And so, as she wandered to the door, he nervously rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry about that, it got caught.” He moved next to her maneuvering the scarf so she wasn’t caught in it’s trail. “I’m getting off here too. Do you want to walk together? I know a good gelatto place just at the end of the block. Unless you have somewhere to be.” “Why would I have anywhere else to be when there is gelatto involved?”

<3

In The Words of Another: Geneviéve Cuva, Part 2

There have only been two times in my life where, upon meeting someone, I was immediately struck by the knowledge that these people would permanently change my life. They felt familiar, like old comfortable friends I had already worn in, in some past life. One of these people was Sabrael D. Carrol, the other was D.M. Genevieve Cuva. You've already heard a bit about the former, it's high time to know more about the latter.

Oceanic
I want to whisper waves against
your shoreline silhouette,
crashing my fingertips against your skin
and folding them in
to your oceanic heart until we forget
everything except
the lullaby tide
that is
us
just
breathing.

Gen has left an unmistakable mark on my life. Part of my philosophy of life was born from late night talks as I slept in her bed, scratching my name into the foamy ceiling. There are few moments that I remember which are happier than the time we graffitied all the campus sidewalks with chalk or snuck into the music building to film 'The Pink Flamingo' or the time a birthday party turned into an icing fight. I don't even want to think about what my music collection would be like without her generosity.

This is a blog about love in the digital age but that doesn't have to be confined to romantic loves. Genevieve taught me how to love life and, even though just as much distance stretches between me and her now as there is between me and Sab, I will always love her for that. So this is for you Gen. Your work is too beautiful not to share.

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAB!! So, maybe I'm a little early and maybe I gave you your present a little too, but oh well. You deserve it! It's a little weird to think it's been almost a year already since I met you. And soon it will be six months that I've been with you. My initial idea of you was right, you have changed my life. You've proven to me that there are good things left in this world, an infinite amount of things to look forward to, to strive for. And you've taught me that true happiness lies in the little moments, the small victories. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." I let myself love you, I learned how to love you, and that is something I'll never ever regret. I'm so lucky to have you and I know this year, Year of the Rabbit, can only have better things in store for us. I love you so much and I hope this year brings you all the things you dream of. I hope it brings me even closer to you. <3

In The Words of Another: Geneviéve Cuva, Part 1

I mentioned once that anyone who had any article ideas or contributions to the concept of long-distance relationships should feel free to submit it, either in the comments, or you can click our portraits right above our information at the bottom of the site. On occasion I am forced to find these people because they are too silly to point themselves out. So today I’d like to pay humble tribute to one Miss Geneviéve Cuva. Now Gen and I are only somewhat acquainted: a former room mate and good friend of my better half, her first impression on me was one of a polite young woman not afraid of her own mind, and not ashamed to express the rambling of her mind. I have witnessed her brilliance in the form of Poetry (which can be read here on her blog “Creative Streak”) as well as in artistic form (which can be seen here on her deviantART). I applaud her artistic merit, mainly because of envy, but also because of it’s sheer beauty. I’ve chosen to showcase a recent piece that instantly grabbed my attention: so my readers I present Enough by Geneviéve Cuva.

Enough
What is love if it is gone,
if it is absent from the
space beside me,
if it is stretched between
us almost to the point
of breaking? It is a string,
a road, a letter or
a short call just to say hello.
It hides in the
small moments and shines
in them, like a child’s nightlight
or a candle in the window. So
from me to you, I send love.
I hope it is enough.

Like I said. Beautiful. It evokes to me a picture of a man whose love is long away from him, troubled time have come, and he sits by candle light, quill inked and awaiting his great prose. Instead, he write those three simple words, folds the page, seals it and his messenger is off with it. I always tell Sorcha I love her. When she is doing homework and I am coding a site, and the air is thick with that unique comfortable silence, I glance up at her, face steady as she reads and I too use those simple words. And she smiles that surprised smile when I catch her by unawares, and she reciprocates. “I send love. I hope it is enough.” She always reminds me it is more than enough, and I love her more for it.

Geneviéve, you did an amazing job capturing something that is hard to describe. Those simple moments most people face to face take for granted, when you not only know they love you, but when they send it to you in some way to make for certain you know. It is a beautiful thing you wrote, and I am grateful to you for doing it. I look forward to getting to know you more in the future, you always leave such supportive comments and so I am glad to make you the first person we pay tribute to here on Love 2.0. To the rest of our readers, you can follow Gen’s own internal monologue at her other blog entitled “Strange Bird” (which I must begin by saying is one of my favorite phrases of English Slang ever, so bravo on choosing a lovable title). And with that I will end my own internal monologue by adding that if you too are an artist of any sort and would like to be featured, don’t hesitate to post a link to your work or e-mail either Sorcha or myself. Until next time, update your driver to Love 2.0, and have a great week.

P.S. My love, our plan went off a bit late, but I loved the end result. Nothing was better than getting into the old writing spirit with you. I can’t wait for our exciting continuation and the chapters from then on. I love you, and I can’t wait for our anniversary which is right around the bend along with my birthday. Having you is the only gift I could have ever asked for. <3

The Story That Never Was, Chapter 1

This is the Magic Bean, a humble establishment of coffee, espresso and tea. It is also a p lace of chance encounters and friendly meetings. But today we are going to be treated to a very strange story. First, let me introduce you to him. See the one sitting there alone with his tea, listening to music loud enough to rupture the ear drums of anyone sitting too close? That is our hero in this adventure. And you see how he managed to catch his overly long scarf under the leg of his chair, leading to his trip up when he stands up, making him look like a buffoon? From his messy black hair to his black framed glasses. That is the kind of person he is. Clumsy and awkward. Exactly the kind of person she would have noticed. Had she been looking. But her back is turned to him, his music drowned out only by the sheer, desperate might of her own. The cafe is far too crowded for her to notice his presence at the table behind her. Her long red hair is pulled back lazily from her face as she glowers at the flickering laptop screen, occasionally biting her brightly painted lips in concentration. Everything about her is brightly colored, from her favorite green elephant earrings to her striped rainbow toe socks. That is the kind of person she is. Silly and strange. But why am I explaining this to you? You can just see for yourself. Just take this little tidbit for example, the day they met...

He drummed his fingers on the table top, impatiently waiting for his tea to be cool enough to sip, or at the very least cool enough to hold. He had forgotten one of those cardboard cup holders they had at the receiving counter, and after a long peril filled journey to his tiny table, he still had to wait. And wait he did. He was to shy to walk back to the counter and ask for one from the girl who handed him his drink, is only thought being ‘If she could hold it long enough to give it to me, why can’t I hold it long enough to drink from it?’ His question remained unanswered, and soon his stare drifted to the window, awash with rain, and then to his messenger bag, filled with his entertainments, and of course, his umbrella.

And this. This always happened to her. Always. Always. Always. You’d thinking living in a city where 90% of the time large drops of water decided to fall from the sky, once in a while you’d remember to bring an umbrella. But no. The trusty green portable awning sat patiently by her front door, waiting patiently for use a convenient 20 blocks away. She looked from the miniature hurricane splattering against the window that read neaB cigaM back into her mug which was now, unfortunately, empty. This wasn’t much of a surprise as it had been in this state for the past 45 minutes. Though miracles were always worth hoping for. It would be nice if the 35¢ in her pocket would suddenly turn into $2.50 (including the tax) so she could afford another hot chocolate, but no such luck. Maybe wishing for the rain to end long enough for her and her bike to make it back home would be enough miracle for one day.

It was still raining, and no hope of a sunny sky was in sight. And so, he decided, for the sake of his warmth he would brave the cashier’s counter and claim a cardboard cup holder (for which she would later assure him that ‘coffee snuggie’ is the technical term), and take a few extras for his bag, so that this fiasco never occur again! And even as he stood up, he knew there was danger ahead as his knee bumped the table, an annoyed grunt escaped him and his tea bounced ever so slightly. ‘Why do they make tiny tables for non-tiny people? Stupid dollhouse furniture.’ Straightening himself out, he took two steps when the tug at his neck informed him that he was about to make friends with embarrassment - for the, third time, today. A tug of his scarf sent his chair toppling, and sent him bounding for the ground, but before that encounter occurred, his elbow would make a brief stop at the next table over, flirting with a small stack of books.

Possibly the only thing that could have jostled her from her thoughts at that particular moment occurred as something swooped past her peripheral vision and scattered her miniature, portable library all over the floor. She jumped up in shock, knocking over her empty mug, headphones popping out of her ears. “Are you alright?” She asked the dazed shape on the floor. It looked like he’d possibly taken The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll to the noggin and she half expected “Jabberwock” to come spilling out of his mouth as she held out a hand to him. He rubbed his head, making his messy hair neater in the process. “Ow,” he said flatly, sitting on the coffee shop floor, scrambling to his feet only because of the sudden memory that these floors probably hadn’t been mopped in weeks. In his scramble, he took the assistance offered, wanting to be off the filthy floors as fast as possible, he glanced down at his black shoes, avoiding eye contact as he mumbled out his apology, “Sorry about the books, it was my scarf’s fault.”

She chuckled, looking him over just to make sure he wasn’t showing any early signs of brain damage. “Don’t worry about it. They’re books, nothing fragile.” Once she was assured he could stand find on his own she bent down and began scooping up her collection. Peter Pan, The Hobbit, The Phantom Tollbooth, dropping them back down on the table rather unceremoniously for the bibliophile that she obviously was. He glanced up, watching her pick up the books, he stuttered a few syllables then decided to quit while he was ahead, picking up a few of the scattered items he couldn’t help but admire the titles; Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone, The Princess Bride, and Inkheart. He placed them on the table noticing her tipped over cup, a sound like a gasp mixed with that sharp hiss people make when you pull off a band-aid that’s been on for a few days, escaped him, “I spilled your drink didn’t I? I’m sorry. What were you drinking? I’ll get you a new one.” Of course, what she might have heard was “Drink, Spilled, New” and things that may have once been words mashed together in between. “No, really. It’s fine.” She struggled to keep down her giggles. He was obviously very sincere and trying very hard to keep the blush that was spreading across his cheeks from being too visible, “quite adorably” she would add when telling the story in later years. “There was nothing in it. Thanks for the offer though, very sweet of you.” Ok, so maybe she was fishing a little. But damn it, another hot chocolate sounded really good right about then.

He knew he was blushing, he had that warm sensation when your sure you have a fever but no one believes you. He casually pointed to the cashier with one hand, his other fishing for his errant scarf, wrapping it around his neck some more causing his mouth to almost vanish under the black and white knittings, “I was going to get something, and I already offered. It would be rude of me not to follow through.” His words were much clearer, if not a bit muffled by yarn. “You passed the test.” She laughed as she dropped back into her seat. “A gentleman always offers twice. If you’re going to insist, another hot chocolate would be lovely.” He smiled, a bit happy she accepted as he moved quickly to the counter, announcing confidently that he wanted an extra large hot chocolate, and if possible, with extra marshmallows, something told him that the tiny girl rather enjoyed her sweets judging by the size of her last cup. And as he waited by the receiving counter, aptly ignoring the conveniently placed items he would soon come to know as “coffee snuggies” he couldn’t help but watch her go back to staring out the window, and he couldn’t help but smile.

<3

Special Announcement

Today's article will be delayed until Friday, February 4th in order to bring you all a very special post from us here at Love 2.0. So until then, have a night on the town with your webcam and have a good week.