Letter thirteen - Day seventeen of your vacation

Dearest J,

Just found out that William Shakespeare and I have the same birth date. Somehow he passed away on the same date too. I bought a copy of Othello today, I doubt I will understand much of the text, however, I understand this excerpt of the text in the introduction - Emilia's monologue:

Let the husbands know

Their wives have sense like them: they see, and smell,

And have their palates both for sweet and sour,

As husbands have. What is it that they do,

When they change us for others? Is it sport?

I think it is. And doth affection breed it?

I think it doth. Is't frailty that thus errs?

Is it so too. And have not we affections,

Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

Then let them use us well; else let them know,

The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

Spoke to my mom on the phone today, she said she misses you. She said she has pinned up your photo in the house so she can see you more.

Been singing your new song, am going to try to finish another draft of additional lyrics by this weekend.

My dance gig went well last night. This morning I banked in my first payment from dancing. It was a simple job but now I see that I have to be so much better in my technique to feel comfortable taking people's money for dancing.

But I believe I did well last night.

Going to a reading audition later, am glad to be out of my audition-phobic phase.

I was walking to my car yesterday and suddenly thought of what I used to do during my single days. I remember I did many things on my own, going to shows, walking around town alone, etc. Things weren't very different after I started seeing you, I still do many things alone. But we did many things together too. At that moment while I was walking to my car what hit me was a question..

Am I now in a place where I have to remember how to live as a single woman in this place?

I have never been a willing candidate to openly say that couple-hood is a better place than single-hood. We always know that we are just lucky to have found each other in this sea of people of different likes and outlook.

Over the years through reading and observation, I came to notice that (I've shared this with you before) married, or attached women do seem to have less emotional issues. I was a big advocate of `be-single-and-be-happy' before we started going out. Seeming and I then got interviewed by a magazine (2002) about being single and happy, the irony was by the time the magazine came out on the news stand, I was already seeing you and was deliriously happy about us.

The last few years I realised that I have built so much of my existence around you, maybe to some friends it didn't seem that way. I hardly drag you to all of my outings, I don't hang out with much with your friends. I do my travelling mostly with my friends, parties, work stuff, in my own circle. But my clients, friends, family, when I talk, they hear you through me. Justin says this, Justin says that...you are like, the invisible force behind me, the excited yapping gap talking away.

The last one year my friends saw more of you, since you started riding more, and since we moved into the new home. I know you enjoy their company and they enjoy much of your contented silence in the corner, occasionally brushing my ears to stop me from talking about you.

This is a painful & beautiful memory. I had you for a little less than a decade, you, who whole-heartedly wants and hopes the best for me; who believes in me, no matter how hard I fall on my face; you love whole-heartedly and deeply; you see the world in its true beauty and you focus only in the beauty of humankind, and yet is intelligent enough to walk away from its ugly manifestation; you are able to see what is important and what is trivial. You were the whole world for me.

Maybe I ought to have reserve some...? Some love for others?

You taught me how to be a better person, I learned to breathe when am angry. You taught me not to waste my energy and time on things that I am able to change. You said to focus my energy on things that I change, like how many hours I spend on practising my singing. You taught me to respect every object. You taught me to see the good in people, to see the funny side of a bad situation, to see the silver lining there. You told me to put my ego in the pocket and make peace. You taught me how to love, with passion and intelligence.

So, as painful as the beautiful memory is, I have to pick up the pieces and brave the single-hood, with pride, and love. I can only do this with your love.

Am running late again, this was meant to be...this wasn't meant to be such a long rambling. I enjoy talking to you, as always.

I love you.

B