History should be studied, NOT as a series of moral maxims intended to rear good statesmen by simply saturating them with stories about past good rulers and hoping they become virtuous by osmosis. History should be studied for what it tells us about the background and origins of our present, and past events should be analyzed as a set of examples, to be compared to present circumstances to help plan actions and predict their consequences.

From a marvelous treatise on Machiavelli I ran across via Google+ this morning.

My friends is super smart.

When friends ask me how long my love and I have been together, I always stammer.

This is because I don’t really know. I’m serious. I’ve never been the “six month anniversary of our first date” or “one year since our [whatever special thing we did together]” person, so I really just don’t know.

Obviously, I am not the keeper of the milestones. I live in the moment. What is important to me is how I feel right now, not past or future. So imagine my confusion when he asked me a few days ago how we should celebrate our anniversary.

I thought he was joking, so I laughed and said, “What anniversary, exactly?” I was a bit nervous, actually, thinking I might have missed something important.

“Well, since we don’t have a real anniversary date,” he said, “I figured it would be the first Dragon*Con we shared together. How many Dragon*Cons have we been to together now?”

“This year will be my tenth year,” I replied.

“Right,” he said. “So we need to do something really special after we get home.”

Then he proceeded to tell me about the cruise.

Ladies and gents, am more in love with that man than ever. It’s not the trip, or even the thought; it’s that after all the trials and tribulations every couple experiences, the “growth spurts” on both our parts, the learning of uncomfortable, distasteful, and sometimes unbelievable truths about each other, the ups and downs we’ve had with other people who’ve come and gone, the personal epiphanies which would have easily broken any other relationship …

I’m happy to say neither one of us can ever take it THAT seriously.

Maybe that’s why it works.

Nothing succeeds like excess. ~ Oscar Wilde

Ain’t she dreamy?

Body, mind, and soul. This is what was promised me, a lifetime ago.

Last night, in fever dreams, I took what was offered.

You recoiled. Said I tricked you. Stamped your feet like a god-damned child.

I only took what was rightfully mine. What was promised. What was right.

I’ll return everything, if you admit it.

Not to ME, silly.

To YOURSELF.

If you’re happy and you know it … well, prove it.

I’ve seen you at the gym, when both of us are sweaty and breathless.

Every time, I smile inside. I know you don’t feel beautiful – who could with hair sweat-plastered to your neck, face red with exertion, and sometimes the day’s eye makeup smudged into an old-school heroine chic look? – but as I pass by, I am always, ALWAYS stunned by your visage.

You’re curvy. Sometimes overweight. Sometimes a bit heavy. Zaftig. At times, outright obese. And there you are, perspiration-soaked shirt, working your ass off to get, or stay, healthy.

And it doesn’t matter what size you are, THAT is sexy as hell.

I never seek your attention. I don’t want to scare you away by letting you know I see you, in all your wet, panting glory, because you might become self-conscious. You might stop doing what you’re doing.

That would be counter-productive.

So no, I’ll probably never chat you up, not even in the locker room. I don’t want you to lose sight of your workout, because that’s all that matters. Not me, not anyone else in the gym; just you, your headphones, and your heart rate.

I don’t want you to realize anyone is watching, because that knowledge might lead you to give up. Instead, I wander past and think to myself “Strong work!” or “Don’t stop now!” or “YOU GO, GIRL!”

I hope you don’t think I’m crushin’ on you in particular. I always crush on women who take charge of their lives, their bodies, and their health. So don’t mind me, you sexy thang. Keep going.

Work it.

Do it!

GO, GIRL!

Never give up! Never surrender!

For about a week now, I’ve gone to bed tired, fallen right to sleep, and then proceeded to wake up 5, 6, or even 7 times per night.

About 1/2 of the times I awake, there’s some kind of physical agitation at work; my body temperature is up and I feel somehow anxious about …

… absolutely nothing. Just anxiety. Just perimenopause. Just something I ate.

Hush now, hush baby, go back to sleep.

One night I awoke convinced I was having a heart attack. It didn’t help that I had slept on my left arm a bit funky and it was numb and tingly. Luckily, the man who shares my bed understands my mental state better than anyone else and can usually calm me with mere words.

Hush now, hush baby, go back to sleep.

Most times I fall right back to sleep with zero issues, but last night, oh … last night was special.

I woke because I was cold. I woke because I was hot. I woke when the A/C came on. I woke when the A/C went off. I woke when my love moved the slightest on the other side of the bed. I woke when I heard a clicking noise which turned out to be my watch on the nightstand.

Each time I would lay there, upset and moody and uncomfortable, for a few minutes. This is no type of insomnia I’ve ever suffered through before, because I was able to go back to sleep each time, it just wasn’t as immediate as it has been in the past.

Hush now, hush baby, go back to sleep.

I woke when the ice-maker on our refrigerator upstairs dropped ice. I woke when the computer in my office in the next room over went into hibernation. I woke when I heard something scratch at the window in the wind.

I’m not awake enough to get up, nor do I just stare at the ceiling, praying for sleep. I even dreamt between bouts, of travel and subways and friends and parks, so I know I was sleeping deeply in 30, 60, or 90 minute intervals.

But really, this is all getting quite tiresome.

Hush now, hush baby, go back to sleep.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

~ Rudyard Kipling, 1895

…

Chik-fil-a, the fast food chicken place, has been getting flack for some time due to their anti-gay stance, but this week, the company President came right out and said it.

No problem. Anyone can believe what they wish, right? Free country and all that?

I don’t eat their food. I haven’t in years. But I will happily pass the word about companies with outright, in-your-face, bigoted business practices.

Speaking of which … are you aware of which companies are currently bankrolling right wing attack ads against President Obama?

No?

Here ya go. Let the boycotting begin!

Just for the record, I don’t support attack ads from EITHER side, but I can’t be bothered to look up the list for those who support Democratic attack ads. If you care, feel free to include it in a comment.

Worth a shot.

So I tried to fix the posts that went all wonky on me.

It didn’t work, as you may be able to tell.

Let’s see if this post goes weird.

Nevermind.