I Was Made to Love You.

23 08 2012

“I’m only supposed to love him…”

Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Season Five. Episode Fifteen. “I Was Made to Love You.” The story revolved around an android named April who was created for the sole purpose of loving her boyfriend/creator, Warren Mears.

I recently received a love letter (one in a series) that concludes with “… loving you is what I am meant to do.”

While I do not believe in god (or at least society’s warped version of a god), I do believe in concepts like fate. How could I not? It was a chance meeting on a mobile social app. I believe the universe intends for certain people to fit perfectly together. Certain people were just meant to love eachother.

Towards the end of her battery life, April comments to Buffy that she fears the coming darkness because Warren might not be able to find her in the dark. It makes one realize that when you are meant to love someone that is meant to love you, you will always find eachother… no matter how dark it gets.

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Blissed, Domestically.

8 08 2012

Revere Beach (August 4th, 2012)

Eating popsicles at the kitchen table at night. First cherry. Then grape. We recap eachother with events since our last visit. 

The kids sleep soundly where the kids sleep. Will wakes before me and takes Aurora to a playground. I’ll later play the role of the nagging spouse because he left no note. Avery wakes up and wants to snuggle as children often do. “I love you,” he says as he finds the nook of my arm.

Breakfast. Pancakes. Cereal. An avocado thrown on the floor by Aurora to signal that she’s done eating it.

Roadtrip to Salem. We browse for toys and comic books. Will rescues two books for me from a used book store despite an avalanche of paperbacks. Aurora in the stoller pointing at other strollers. “Baby!” She exclaims. The breeze is refreshing as we walk through Salem Common.

That evening, a family visit to Revere beach. My first trip to the ocean outside of various locations in Florida. We explain to Avery about the unpleasantries of throwing sand and wade with Aurora into the water. The sand is squishy and cold. I avoid the seaweed that’s washed up ashore. Aurora picks up pebbles and drops them into the puddles, laughing.

Saturday night date. Ice-cream sundaes and Inland Empire (half of it, anyway). Legs entwined.

Lazy Sunday morning. Ideal Sunday morning. Cartoons on the couch. A curious monkey and a man with a yellow hat. Praise given to Avery for using the potty.

A short visit to a playground is followed by photo booth fun, a carousel ride, and toy shopping at the Disney Store. Should’ve known better than to take children (young and old) into the Disney Store.





A History Told in Pops and Crackles.

16 04 2012
Adrienne Frost

Adrienne Frost

psy*com*e*try noun: divination of facts concerning an object or its owner through contact with or proximity to the object.

Adrienne Frost: deceased mutant villainess and older sibling to the X-Men’s Emma Frost. Psychometric.

A favorite pastime for most kids (at least for this kid) is imagining what kind of superpowers you would choose to have should you have the opportunity to live out your favorite comic book storylines. Of course, the obvious abilities come to mind… flight, invulnerability, super-strength. Telepathy and other mind-based powers were usually thrown by the wayside. Why pretend you can probe someone’s mind when you can run around with your friends and make believe you’re soaring through the clouds or landing earth-shattering punches at the bad guys?

As someone who always preferred spending more time in the library than the gymnasium when I was young (okay, and still to this day), I’ve always been drawn to the characters whose powers required brains over brawn.

Recently, Will gave me an original pressing of the Breakfast at Tiffany’s soundtrack. He has a wonderful knack for giving the perfect gift (it’s one of the many things that I love about him and it’s also a skill that I hope to one day master). The outer sleeve was worn around the edges and had a piece of blue tape holding part of it together. The inner sleeve was yellowed with age and had that distinct basementy smell that typically accompanies vintage records.

One of the great things about receiving a gift like this is that not only are you receiving the gift but also the history that comes along with it.

Adrienne Frost had the mutant ability of psychometry. She could touch an object and immediately know the object’s history, its previous owners, events that occurred around the object, and the possible future of the object. This would be one of those “brains over brawn” powers that I mentioned being intrigued by.

What mental snapshots would Adrienne see when holding this well-loved record?

Every pop and crackle that the record makes under the needle on the turntable is another piece of its history. Another story to tell.

A middle-aged college professor in the 1960s (think Colin Firth in A Single Man) sitting in his library, swirling brandy in a glass, cardigan sleeves rolled up with Sylvia Plath in hand and Henry Mancini’s Moon River swelling up from the turntable while rain pats down on the window from outside. When it’s not the college professor, it’s a teenage girl, probably named Betty Jean (or something of the sort), laying on her bed, gossiping into her princess phone with her best friend about going steady with the captain of the football team… the record sitting amongst a pile of LPs on the plush bedroom carpet of her family’s suburban home.

It’s been bought and sold, traded and swapped numerous times. It has seen the inside of more than one flea market and been pawed at by bargain hunters at garage sales. Now we have the opportunity to add our own history with another layer of pops and crackles.