I had to think a little…

I had to think a little about the date before figuring out what day it is. I lose track of time when I'm not in an academic calendar.

My days these days are a mix of packing stuff up at Kevin's, moving them over, deciding where things go, and shopping. Eating out and eating leftovers. Falling exhausted on the couch in the evening to watch a little tv. Reading lots of stories in between it all, because hanging shower curtains is more tiring than you would think.

I have to admit, all the shopping is fun. I'm not sure if it's a guy thing, but Kevin seems to not buy anything for five years, and then buy everything at once. That's totally the opposite of me -- I buy one little household thing every few weeks or so, so my home is slowly improving, mostly within my budget. I don't really understand how he can stand going years without buying anything, except an occasional book or meal. It's very odd. But it is rather nice being around for the spending blitz, and it certainly make it easier for us to choose things that we're both happy with (given the long-distance thing during the school year). Yesterday we bought a teakettle, a shower curtain, dark grey stoneware dishes, plum linen napkins, tea lights and six tiny frosted purple tealight holders, the stackable kind. The last three items were entirely at my instigation -- he would never have bothered. But he likes how pretty they look -- he does appreciate aesthetic stuff; he just doesn't spend nearly as much time thinking about pretty things as I do. The table looked really beautiful last night. Was good.

Today, bookshelves and sheer curtains for the living room, I think. He had these blinds in, but they're mostly broken, so we've been taking them down all morning (makes my arms tired!). We thought about just leaving the living room windows bare -- it would fit in with the sort of industrial look this place has. But I think it's nice to have the option of some privacy, and the ability to block some sunlight. It's been cool and grey and overcast in Chicago for the last couple of weeks -- I think he's forgotten that this room is going to get flooded with late afternoon sunlight.

I'll put up some pictures in a bit, when things are in quite so much disarray. We still have pieces of wood trim everywhere, and a huge tangle of metal blinds on the floor. When we're done, I think the place is going to look really nice. Comfortable to live in, too. That's important.

Hey, and speaking of beauty, I wanted to add something to what M'ris was saying about photos yesterday. I'd agree that mobility has a lot to do with whether or not people photograph well. But I think good photos have more to do with the way the photographer sees their subject. I'm not sure exactly how to explain that -- but an example are some photos of Kirsten that I have on my wall. When David saw them, he thought the woman in them was pretty (possibly very pretty -- I don't remember). And I think Kirstie is beautiful. But he was really startled to find out that they were pictures of Kirsten, because his memory of her is not of someone that he finds attractive. I think the photos catch a beautiful moment of hers, and I think it's much easier for me to take that kind of photo of her than it would be for him -- because when I look at her, I see beauty, and I have only to choose the particularly beautiful moments.

If that makes sense, then maybe you can follow me to the corollary. I think I take pretty good photos of people (I am sadly mediocre at landscapes and such). And I think it's because I tend to photograph people I love -- and those eyes of love make it easier for me to see their beauty. And to take it a step further, even when I'm taking photos of someone like Marissa's Tim, whom I barely know, I try to look at him the way someone who loves him might look at him. It's fairly easy for me to imagine loving almost anyone -- maybe because as a writer, I have to think about who might love whom, with my characters, all the time. Or maybe I'm a writer because I already think that way about people. I have no idea if I was poly first, and a writer second, or vice versa.

Whatever the sequence, and however strong or weak the connections, these things do all seem connected to me. Writing and love and photography and beauty and seeing clearly, with generous eyes.

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