the beauty of a blink

Prologue:
Words just muddle our emotions. In fact, words have probably been the downfall of mankind. I heard once, that before words, before we started communication with a verbal language, there was no war, there was no poverty, there were lush lands, peace, freedom, love, everything we as a society have always strived for. But, on the other hand, without documenting those days with words, how can we be certain of this utopia? Well, the fact that you communicate better without words, with body language, with eye communication, with a hyper consciousness, helps confirm the belief that words are everything we've never wanted to be. What's in a name? What's in a word? Nothing. No truth, no god, nothing. Language is all subjective, arbitrary, and probably takes us further and further away from happiness. Like the word beautiful; how cliche' is that? No one can use that word without thinking, it's been said before, in film, in music, in art, in life. But a romantic kiss, a smile, a touch of the skin, now that's beautiful!
--The first email I sent to Mindy

Story

I feel like I just came down from an eight-month acid trip. These overwhelming sensations and symptoms of a prolonged abuse of my neurotransmitters dopamine and serotonin are: tingling in my extremities, blurry vision, sweating, head pounding, the inability to eat, tremlous convulsions, incurable stomach aches, sounds echoing around me, the lights burning my eyes, my jaw half way open half the time, then clenched tight the rest of the time. However these body aches are nothing compared to the mental anguish of my broken heart.

It's been 8 months since I last updated this journal. And where's the irony you ask? Where's the punch line? Well the last entry I wrote here was the beginning of what now seems to be the consequences of this broken heart. These are the symptoms of a depressed, sad, and lonely man. Here I sit, at a new job, in a new city, without any friends, and with my home life, in shambles. It was all I had to hold on to. The world seems so myopic and macabre when you're lover no longer loves you.

My wife, Mindy Ranee Buhl, married to me for 4 months, has decided she isn't in love with me anymore. It's a thought that's been festering and swelling inside her for quite some time now. She hadn't touched me in over a month. She had no interest in loving me. Her lack of self worth overpowered her ability to be in love. But why give away the whole story in the beginning of this entry? To whomever may read this, I'll try to tell our story tonight, in its entirety, and then be done with it.

Mindy and I began talking to one another in late August. Or rather, we started typing to one another; you see, we met over the internet, on Friendster actually. We chatted on IM for a few days before either of us had the nerve to call one another. I'm pretty sure it was I who called her first. I remember that she told me she couldn't talk very well, and in fact, if the reader of this memoir has read the prologue, like a good reader should do, I can assure you that words were our enemy from the beginning. I was afraid she was mute. I thought she couldn't even use her mouth to make sounds. But when I realized the silliness of those thoughts, I got the courage to call. And we talked. It was soft and sweet. It was from our first conversation that I knew we would be lovers, though I had yet to recognize that love.

After a week and a half of conversations, I couldn't stand not being next to her. It was driving me wild. Her life stories, her tender docile voice, her willingness to try and understand me was pressing my heart out of my Los Angeles box in and into her San Jose trailer park. You see, she lived with a friend's parents at the time, a half way place between her last fiancé' and her next stepping stone. Little did I know that I would be that stone. (Side note: my heart feels like stone typing this.) Driving on a suspended licensee with my friend TK in the car, we charged out of Los Angeles and made our way to San Jose. At 2 AM, I was finally there, with the girl I would months latter, be married to. She was more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed of. She was then and still is, my Angel. Words can't describe the aesthetic of the goddess that is Mindy Ranee Buhl. For those you who still can't picture what Mindy was to me, imagine her as air you breathe, the blood that courses through your body to keep you warm at night; picture her as the fondest memory you have of your mother. This is what she became to me.

To say the least, we hit if off. But I was still a bit skeptical of her intentions, a running theme throughout our relationship I guess. It wasn't until my second visit, one week later, did I know that we would be together for a long time, maybe forever. However now, in retrospect, I was foolish to think she'd love me forever. I was stupid to ever make any assumptions at all. (My head is spinning right now, excuse the break in story).

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Why doesn’t she love me? I've tried, so hard, with all that I had, to make us work. I gave her space when she needed space; I cuddled her when she wanted me pressed against her. I kissed her gently, and then hard, then however she wanted. We vowed to be committed, how could this have happened? She says she has issues, that her past haunts her, and that she can't love me if she doesn't love herself. She's been hiding her emotions behind the shrapnel of her explosive past. I won't go into detail of her past, to keep what's precious intact, but I wish I could help her cope, to deal with her history.
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It was then that Mindy and I devised a plan to bring her to Los Angeles. Mindy was to live with me until I saved enough money for us to move to either San Francisco or Seattle. I remember the diagrams I drew up to prove to my roommates that Mindy and I wouldn't cause any commotion and would only be staying until late December. One was a picture of me holding a chart stating how much Mindy meant to me, (THIS MUCH by the way, as I wrap my hands behind me so that my fingers can encircle my body. Infinitely). The other was an enlarged photo I took of her the first day we were together in San Jose. I still have that photo in my studio. Mindy hates it, but it means the world to me. The roommates could see my conviction. Mindy and I were in Love and nothing was going to stop us from obtaining the love we so deserved.

Then she was there, in my house, in my bed. No, not my anything, it was ours. This was the beginning of us. The start of the single entity we'd vow to become. We worked our stupid jobs only to make ends meet and make the savings we needed to leave the city. I wanted to quit my job so badly. Mindy disliked her new vet job because of all the stupid idiots who'd come into her work and burp out the most remarkably asinine statements. I think one person even called her a cracker. But we didn't wake up in the morning because we liked our jobs, nor for friends, nor to hear the latest news update, but we arose for the love we shared. (I hope this presumption is correct, oh god do I hope this).

The proposal wasn't at all what one would consider your classical and traditional engagement. The suggestion of marriage became a pertinent issue vacillating from the back to the front of my thoughts. I loved her. I wanted to commit myself to her, to make this work, or at least to try. I wanted a relationship that lasted longer than 10 months. There was no doubt in my mind that I was completely madly in love with her. I wanted to be married to her. When I was out buying the ring for her beautiful finger, I got into a skateboard accident. I entered the diamond store all bloody and bruised. I thought it was funny when the sales person came to shake my bloody hand. I didn't know anything about diamonds, but was docile as ever. It was an honor to propose. I proposed to Mindy on the back porch of the house we were living. Subtle as it may have been, I was as sincere as one gets. (Again in retrospect, this amount of commitment is what would eventually assist in causing Mindy to back out of her love for me.) She even had a ring for me, which I wasn't expecting.

I was a list maker. There seemed to be so much I had to do before we moved out of Los Angeles. We had to sell my car, pack up our things, find a replacement roommate for the house, make more lists, and finally, plan a wedding. It wasn't going to be a big wedding, just a beautiful one. In fact, it was going to be the most beautiful wedding in the history of weddings. And it wasn't going to cost us anything. (Maybe it cost us our marriage? No, that can't be it.) The wedding was to be held in San Francisco at the Sutro Bathes inside a cave at sun down. Simple, no? Well, to save you time boring you with all the details of my planning, to say the very least, it WAS the most beautiful wedding ever.

Though, before I digress too far into the story, I must add that before we were married, we spent one full week away from each other. She was in the Bay Area and I was in LA working my last week at the racetracks. It was a terrible week. I missed her dearly and she missed me. I don't mean to romanticize this story too much, and after all, I am a miserable wreck while writing this, and everything seemed so much clearer before Mindy and I were fighting, but we truly missed one another for that week. However hitherto what is now the remains of a once happy marriage, I couldn't even begin to comprehend what missing her might feel like. The gut wrenching pains of mental agony are unbearable. They keep my awake at night and put me in a daze during the day. I want my lover back. I want my angel. I'll do anything for her.

Sorry. I'll try not to do that again.

The week away from one another passed and we were reunited once again. The wedding was in a few days but it didn't need much preparation. I was nervous and stressed. She could tell. She's always been able to tell if there's something wrong with me. It’s too bad I'm an emotional retard when it comes to the discourse of feelings. We were asked to write vows for one another, about one another. She couldn't do it. Mindy said she couldn't speak of her love for me in words. I understood, I thought. I sympathized. (I now question what her vows would have been if I hadn't helped write them for her.) The vows weren’t really all too important anyway. It was the placement of her ring on my finger and vice versa that signified our bond. I placed her ring around my heart; she placed her heart in my ring. It was touching. The sunset beautifully as we walked together, arm in arm, man and wife.

Exiting the cave was the most brilliant and amazing feeling of my life; to be unified with such a sweet bird was to be one with a goddess. We flew directly towards that sun set. (And maybe that's why we caught on fire and are dying now... god I want to hold her).

We never really had a honeymoon. I wish we went to Hawaii though, I wish I could have given her that. Soon after the wedding, we found a place to live in the Lower Haight district in San Francisco, CA. It was to be our new home, our first home, our only home. I liked our home. She did too. (However, today, April 12th was the day I realized my home was not at all in the walls of that Victorian apartment, but immured in the heart of the one I loved. Without her there, it isn't home at all.)

The intimacy between Mindy and I was phenomenal. We were lovers, and did what lovers do. I wanted to give her everything and anything she ever wanted; and I tried so hard to be there when she needed me. If she ever designed a perfect husband, I wish I were it. I wish I were Mindy's perfect lover. I remember Mindy once asking me, "If we ever break up, will you promise to come over and love me?" Two things about this frightened me. First, it was the first time the "if" theory surfaced. "If" can be a strong thing. "If" can ruin a marriage. "If" can ruin a life. And the second thing that scared me was that she actually enjoyed making love to me. It's hard for my feeble mind to understand such an anomaly, but I tried to believe she would want to touch me forever.

Then there was Lillith. Lilly Pie became the newest member of the Buhl-Donham family. She was 8 months old, tan and black colored, and had the smelliest gas that a kitty has ever had. She cleared rooms. But, beyond her gassy tendencies, she was a beautiful kitten that Mindy and I were to raise together. That was it. That was our family. It was nice.

We soon started working for Quicksilver on his metaphysical convention. Mindy and I worked together for the first time, ever. It wasn't easy for me. I'll tell the truth, it's hard for me to focus on work when my lover is in the room. Concentration issues I guess. The convention wasn't easy for either of us. We flew to Los Angeles to work at the Hilton Hotel. We had just set up our home in San Francisco, and had to leave the apartment and our cat in the hands of Mindy's friend Patricia. During the convention, I think Mindy felt for the first time, aggression and animosity towards me. She wasn't receiving the attention she deserved. I became a workaholic, and she had to pretend to care about this shitty convention. (I'm so stupid. I should have given her anything she ever wanted. I guess I'm paying for it now. It's so hard not to blame myself for this. It's so hard to think that I can't have her heart. I feel so fucking gross.)

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Maybe Mindy just isn't interested in me? Maybe I'm not that interesting of a guy? I thought I was at one point. This move has been hard on me. I uplifted my roots and replanted myself a new CRINDY being. I'm sure it's been hard on her too. But that was the commitment, I thought. To help each other in hard times. It hurts...but I know now that to help her, I have to let her break up with me. God fuck shit....fuckin hell. I won't cry at work. Not here.
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After the convention, we flew back home to begin our life...again. We both started looking for work, and were trying to understand what married life meant to us. We spent a lot of time together and things seemed to be getting a little awkward. Sex had become an issue because of birth control problems, dinners were spent in front of a TV watching movies, and the time we spent together wasn't as romantic as we both wanted it to be. I'm sure of it. It is very possible that I assumed that she would be there for me, always, and took advantage of our love. I'm not sure. This part of the story seems hazy. I can' t quite understand what happened to make her fall out of love with me. But that's not the point of this text. I digress.

An interesting night that seemed to be an intense emotional debacle for us, was a night when we went to an art opening. I didn't know anyone there, except for a pseudo friend, but wasn't feeling sociable enough to talk to anyone. Mindy and I were psychologically alone at a social event. Mindy disliked my attitude, and I felt depressed. This night was a foreboding symbol of how Mindy and I coped with each other's emotions; not well at all. (I want to change, I want to tell her everything, and I want her to know who I am, to have her stop prying my feelings from me.)

Mindy got a job at a Vet clinic, and I got a job working in a computer lab. Awesome, no? No, it's not. We work opposite hours. She works in the morning, and I work at night. We never see each other except for on her lunch breaks, sometimes. (I'll quit, I will if it'll help us.) But I wasn't going to work these hours forever. I was going to pay my dues to the job, then get the hours I wanted. That was the plan. I wanted to have my nights with my love, as I thought she did. But she doesn't. In fact, these work hours will assist her in what she wants. It's so sad for me, but I know it's what she wants.

Which brings me to two days ago. The tension in our relationship was building, crescendoing into the dynamics of what has now developed. We went out to dinner that night because neither of us wanted to eat at the house. The Thai food we got was terrible, but what was worse than the food was the look on Mindy's face while we sat there in silence. She hates me, I thought. She's bored of me. She doesn't love me. I can't make her laugh. We left without eating much because the food was too spicy. I have more digits on my extremities than words we spoke that night. Then, her friend, whom she hadn't seen in years, invited her for tea. Wonderful, I thought. But what started up as a gesture of my love, to let her fly freely, turned into one of my violent mood swings. It wasn't that she went out without me, I'm not that selfish, it's that before she left, she asked me if it bothered me. Again, to anyone else, this may have been a normal thing to say, but for me, it meant that it should bother you, I want it to bother you, why doesn't it bother you. There was so much unspoken meaning behind those simple words. And the worse part is, she most likely didn't mean it like that. So I went out, drinking, too much, and came back thinking I could talk rationally to her about our relationship. Fucking jackass I am. I did as much spilling of my heart as I did spilling of my insides. (I'm sorry for that). This got us nowhere except up to yesterday.

April 11th: I went to the Sutro baths, the place of our marriage, to watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. God I wanted her there with me. The sun set beautifully. I came home to speak to her. To crack open this tense void we'd developed. Today, was the day we started speaking to each other. She spoke of her loss of love for me and how she didn't want to hurt me. I spoke of my inability to see it coming and how it hurt real bad. We cried. It hurt. It still hurts. I want to kiss her now, I want to make love to her, I want to be interesting and funny and sensitive, and remarkable to her. I've learned so much about my feelings for her in the last two days. But I think it's too late. I want her to get better soon. I want her to still love me when this is all said and done. I won't hate her. I love her. She is my life, my wife, my everything. She thinks she is not my everything, but she is. Mindy Ranee Buhl, who became Mindy Ranee Donham for four months, no longer can bare the burden of loving me. And I have to deal with it.

Epilogue:

April 12th: I realized today that there's so much beauty in one blink of an eye. The healing power that a blink can deliver can soothe the most treacherous heartache. Held between two points of open, the closing motion of a blink cleanses the soul and allows time to pass. Time is sometimes all we can hold on to. And that is that.