Inspiration.

Inspiration.

I usually get inspired to compose blog entries when I'm behind the wheel of my car, traveling alone. I keep the radio on for company, and tonight during a 2-hour drive, I listened to part of "This American Life," one of my favourite shows on public radio. Something about the personal aspect of the show inspires me to write down my own thoughts, but I'm always traveling when I hear "This American Life," unable to access a keyboard or notebook. I try to hold onto the thoughts, the great openings to fantastic entries, until I reach my destination, but they're slippery and I lose my grasp on them within miles.

Other times, I find myself outlining the day I had, while lying in bed at night, just before drifting off to sleep.

Neither of those repeated scenarios are conducive to blogging.

Perhaps the problem is that I have too much fodder for entries, too many thoughts on my mind, too many beautiful scenes around me, things I don't like to inscribe for the world to see. These, I write down for myself, filing them away, to be looked at later.

So.

I could write about my Thanksgiving weekend, how I had been looking forward to it for a month, but over the past couple of weeks, grew rather apathetic about it, and now am just wishing it was over.

Or I could write that the sunset tonight was amazing, and lasted for the better part of an hour.

Or I could say that I tried to make fudge tonight, and I was pretty confident about it because really, how hard could it be? Answer: VERY hard. I have an 8x8 greased baking dish full of dry chocolate crumbles.

Or I could write about the fact that when I came home for Thanksgiving, I accidentally left some important information back on the desk in my dorm room, and had to make a special four-hour round-trip back there today to retrieve it. It wasn't so bad, though, because I got to spend a little time with JBK, watching Seinfeld, eating soup, then drinking hot coffee and dunking homemade spritz cookies in it, talking about things from our childhoods. I adore how comfortable everything is with him; how any situation is, if we're together, natural and unthreatening. Big social events? No longer a problem. With him by my side, I feel protected, safe, and complete. Today, I got there a few minutes before he did, and when he arrived, he took the stairs two at a time and immediately folded me in his arms, and it was as though I was finally home.

I'm unspeakably blessed.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

There is a plethora of reasons I am thankful this year:

For my family - it's good to not be living at home anymore (darn right), but I love my family to death.

For health - everyone else's, as well as mine.

For traveling - a year ago today, I was in London.

For church - it is so beautiful.

For Autumn - it was long this year, and glorious!

For books - and for the people who take the time to write them.

For professors - who encourage critical thinking, instead of spoon-feeding
information.

For friends - with whom I can pick up right where we left off, even after a year.

For snowstorms - with big, fluffy flakes.

For walks - while it's snowing, walking in the unblemished snow, late at night.

For drinks - coffee and tea late at night, warming up after those walks in the snow.

For music - lately, for Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" CD most of all.

For Kristen and Troy - because without them, we wouldn't have met.

For opportunities - and having the right to decide for myself whether I should pursue them or not.

For vocabulary - working "extrapolate," "monotony," and "nefarious" into conversation on a regular basis.

For extra quilts - I love waking up in a cocoon of blankets, snugly warm in a freezing room.

For him - for being cared for by the most amazing, wonderful man I've ever had the privilege of knowing. For being more myself when I'm around him than with anyone else. For feeling at home, finally. For this.

Yes, I have much to be thankful for.

the highlight of last week:

when we finally kiss goodnight
oh i'll hate going out in the storm.
but if you really hold me tight,
all the way home i'll be warm!

the fire is slowly dying
and, my dear,
we're still good-bye-ing!
but as long as you love me so,
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

one of the highlights of the last week: finishing coffee at Perkins at 1 AM, walking through the early-morning snowstorm, waiting in the car for the engine to warm up, for the heater to kick in. we listened to Bing Crosby crooning Christmas songs, watching the snowflakes swirl around the car, seeing the festive sparkle of city lights from across the lake; his arms around me, my head on his shoulder, his lips occasionally brushing my forehead as we quietly talked to each other.

something that never ceases to amaze me is how we connect on so many different levels. there's overwhelming mental and emotional attraction and stability, as well as physical attraction; we each delight in the fact that the other is intelligent, that we have so many similarities on which to build a broad, stable foundation for this relationship, but enough differences to keep conversation interesting, to always have something new to bring to the table.

one of our favourite things to do is, when everything is quiet, fantasize about where we're going to travel someday. "where are we?" i asked the other evening, out of the blue; without having to ask me what i meant, he grew thoughtful, his arms around me.
somewhere in middle-Europe; Germany or Austria, thought my mind, and i couldn't wait for him to answer, to see if he felt the same thing.
"vienna," he said, and my mind relaxed, happy; "we're staying in a townhome bed and breakfast, and it has wooden floors; at the foot of the bed, there's a fireplace."
"and no animal fur," i added, referencing another trip we had pictured the day before.
he laughed quietly; "yes, no animal fur."
"what did we do tonight?" went to a concert, went to a concert, i chanted mentally.
"we just got back from the opera," he replied.
"and it's snowing, and our gloves and scarves and long coats are drying by the fire," i said, getting caught up in the mental imagery.
"yes, it is. and right after the concert, we went out for wine."
my mind laughed, remembering our professor who got wasted in Europe; i opened my mouth to say, "except there's no wine, because karl drank it all," but he beat me to it.
"but karl's along, so there's no wine left."

it's still over a month to Christmas Day, but already, this is most amazing Christmas i've ever had.

The time of my life

We take late-night walks around town, wandering for miles, keeping each other's hands warm in the 27-degree weather, discussing everything, enjoying each other's presence. I am more at ease, more comfortable, more complete than I ever have been. It was reassurring this weekend, when we were at my parent's house and it felt as though he fit in - as though he belonged there. My parents think he's wonderful, and are so delighted that we found each other; his mother said that, amongst other things, I'm the sweetest girl he's ever known. He's someone I can be proud of; someone with convictions and morals, someone who has amazingly deep respect for me. We spent the weekend together, hours and hours of travelling in a car, and never tired of each other's presence. Yesterday, we were separated for 12 hours and couldn't wait to see each other again, so we met at 11:30pm and went for a walk. I love that his face lights up when he sees me; that he shows affection in front of his friends; when we're together and he's talking to someone else, he reaches over for my hand, just to let me know that he's still aware of the fact that I'm there. We meet for coffee in the mornings, and it's such a beautiful way to start the day.

Life.

I won't be posting much over the next while; life has gotten so busy. The main catalyst is that I've had late midterms last week and this week (four papers due this week alone, as well as some last week), and it has created havoc and destruction, making it difficult for me to stay on top of what is usually a normal load. I've fallen behind in my work-work because of it, and that's driving me crazy.

Add in the fact that I'm completely enjoying someone...and the end result is that my schedule is bursting at the seams.

it's been a while...

it's been a while...

...since I've posted. It's not that I have nothing to say; my brain is overflowing, but I don't want to say anything here yet.

I'll share soon. I promise. But for now, just be content to know that life seems like a beautful dream - but better than a dream, for I don't have to fear waking up and finding that it vanished.

From one of his friends: (haha)

Message: 11.03.05 12:50pm B: You are cordially invited to the upcoming student senate meeting. A John K. has informed us that you are a prospect of his and that he would like you to see him in intellectual action. He'll probably stay awake if you're there too. I know he seems a little pedantic, but give him a chance. It's not a bald spot, it's a solar panel for a sex machine.


Reply: 11.04.05 1:59pm Danika: I would like to extend my sincere thanks and convey my deep appreciation for the cordial invitation to the upcoming student senate meeting (which I accept, of course). I am delighted to be considered a prospect of a John K, even though he has a funny last name; and from what I've seen of his intellectual action, it's pretty hot, even after a few drinks. And have no fear; to me, pedantic=really, really, really great.

all-nighter

The First (and will be the last, for a while, anyway) All-Nighter I've Had in a Long Time

He likes that I'm articulate; he appreciates my vocabulary and my ability to state what I think (apparently. you can laugh, if you want). He loves the fact that I'm gentle, and thinks I'm entirely appropriate. He couldn't believe we met because of his roommate.

We talked from 10 pm until a quarter after five this morning, about politics, religion, school, health, having children; music, beds, reincarnation, the topic of If We Could Be Anyone from History, Who Would We Be?, board games (he was always Professor Plum; I was always Miss Scarlet), food, growing up, "Is there anything really bad about you that I should know? Because if there is, please tell me now", and travelling, while relaxing on the futon.

Nothing happened, nothing uneasy or forward; instead, it was beautifully comfortable, yet exciting; a time of amazing conversation that could've happened anywhere; lying under the stars, or on a walk, but we were both tired from a long walk and a little alcohol and everyone else was sleeping, anyway.

We talked and laughed -- at one point, just after our Board Game episode of the conversation, he sighed, "I'm going straight to Hell," to which I giggled and replied, "Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200," and we both found that insanely funny for a few minutes -- and then we talked about how strange it is that we have managed to not meet for the past semester and a half, when we have the same majors and freakishly similar interests (hello, Big Band Music?).

When he had walked into the room, I was introduced to him, then stayed and sat on the floor and talked with him, because somehow I knew that of all the people there, he was the one I would want to talk to, want to get to know.

I told him this morning that when I first saw him, I felt as though I knew him; no, that it was more a feeling that I should know him.

"That's the perfect way to describe it. It was the same way with me," he said.

Later, I said something brilliant about growing up, becoming one's own person, thinking and believing and having likes and dislikes because of yourself, not because anyone else wants you to; being able to develop without succumbing to peer pressure. And then there was silence, as he took a deep breath.

"what?" I wondered about the sudden deep inhalation.

"you gave me butterflies. I looked over and saw you, and got butterflies."

Teacher's Pet

teacher's pet

In my favourite class, we have been discussing/critiquing various memorials dedicated to WWII's holocaust. Today one of the critiqued memorials is a monument in the Ukraine, dedicated to around 2,000 Jews who were slaughtered there. It's a beautiful monument, but there's a funny twist: Nowhere on the monument does it mention that the victims were Jewish; instead, they're listed as "Citizens of the Soviet Union."

My professor asked if there's a problem with that, with not recognizing the victims' Jewish heritage; for, when we separate people into different categories, are we not adhering to some aspect of Hitler's beliefs - that people are not inherently the same?

I raised my hand, unable to sit still; the professor looked at me.

"Yes, but the problem is, they weren't killed because they were Soviet citizens. They were killed because they were Jewish."

And thereafter commenced the following conversation:

d: I love it when I get the answer right.
k: And the way he looks at you when you do...
d: Totally. It's all, "You. Me. My office. Now."