Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine's Day---blah blah blah


Well, it's Valentine's Day --or I guess, Valentine's Evening now.  It has been uneventful.  The thing is, that's okay.  I was lying in bed this morning thinking about all this and had a realization:  I would rather spend many a "lonely" Valentine's Day than spend it with the wrong guy...(which I've done, too...but that feels like lifetimes ago...but anyway).  I mean, yeah, it sucks not getting the flowers or chocolates or card or *whatever.* 

However, if being alone on Valentine's Day means that I'm making myself available for the right guy by not being with the wrong guy, well, I can do that. I feel like the Universe is teaching me PATIENCE.  Which is annoying, but hey, it is what it is.

In truth, I did receive some V-Day wishes from a few guys--both of which would love to date me; however, they aren't right for me...so I'm keeping them as friends.  

Today was a pretty good day by all accounts anyway---I slept in, made a scrumptious breakfast (organic french toast with real maple syrup anyone?), meditated for an hour, watched a fun, girlie-movie, took a nap and then wrote two essays for some scholarships.  A good day overall.  

Back to the V-day nonsense:  Of course I want to be in love and have that returned, but sometimes you just have to trust--and so that's what I'm doing.  And, I'm full of hope---to the brim actually.  Life really keeps getting more real, and true and lovely--with a few bumps here and there---but the path remains the same. 

However, since it is a lovey-dovey day, here is my FAVORITE Shakespearan Sonnet-- Enjoy!

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

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