8/29/20
“Anger was designed to be a visitor, not a resident, in the human heart.”
– Gary Chapman
8/31/20
Yesterday, we went to look at a house we both liked after seeing it because of appearance (cute, neat, not too many problems), size (not too big), and location (near pennsauken transit ctr for me so I can get to Philly, closer to Riverside for him so that the time it takes him to drive to work would be cut in half). We put in an offer last night (the first offer we’ve ever made on a house). But in the backyard of this house, I saw the most magical-looking stone and crouched down to take a closer look – it was rough grey with tons of flecks of mica that sparkled, and it was in a triangle shape that looked to be completely natural (like shaped by weather/time and not by a human) and I picked it up and saw its shape’s indentation in the dirt, so I guessed it’d been there for a while. I liked it so much that I was going to take it, but then put it back. It seemed like I shouldn’t. I told myself I would only take it if the house became ours; if that didn’t happen, I was okay with leaving it there and never seeing it again – I felt that the stone belonged to that property. Then for some reason my mind jumped, in that backyard right then as I put the stone back, right to like…sexuality. and of guys “taking” this magic stone from girls without committing to everything the stone belongs to. I was thinking how it’s nice to…idk. To leave something as magical as a woman’s sexuality/sexual faithfulness (or for her to protect it) until…until you belong to the same place she belongs to. I’m not talking about marriage, necessarily. But just…getting to that place where there is no question. For both of you.
9/1/20
white supremacy isn’t the shark; it’s the water.
– heard on https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=4&v=NJwYn9e3Eoc&feature=emb_logo
………….
that love is never something you find at last, and can then settle back on the couch forever.
that love does not exist without being lived out. daily. for the rest of your life.
love as an adventure, as a moving picture, as a dream, a dance, a song or any other moment-to-moment changing thing.
9/3/20
for some reason, when I was thinking about just now, the memory of when I was crying when I was little and mom kept slapping and slapping my hand and telling me to stop crying – that unless I stopped crying, she would keep slapping it, and the more she slapped it, the more I couldn’t stop crying – it reminded me of how they keep sending in military/getting militant to shut up the protestors. (finally my dad who was off to the side said, “Rose, if you keep hitting her, she’s gonna keep crying.” and that seemed to jog her senses, and she stopped)
9/4/20
“To demand more of your choices than the reward dangled in front of you.” – Beau Sia
Marriage Journal 