2001-06-04
10:17 p.m.

Love. Such a simple word, yet so complicated. Sometimes I wonder what it means, I thought I knew, but do I really? Or maybe I do know, and it's other people who are confused. I'm just talking in circles, not really sure where I am going to end up. Love is faith, love is pain, love is like flying. Love contradicts itself at every turn, but I still seak it, I still hold on to it like it is my last grip on life, I still love. Is my love wrong, do I have the wrong idea? Some will say I do, some will scream it at the top of their lungs. Some will try and show me the "error of my ways" with harsh words and violence. Yet, others will praise me, telling me that I have the courage that they lack. Should either circumstance have to happen though? Love is simply love. It shouldn't be condemned, nor should it take such courage and strength to admit. When you fall in love, you fall in love with every detail of a person, not with a gender.

What's gotten me in this reflective mood you ask. I was watching a special on the Sundance Channel about lesbians, in their late sixties, that grew up in Sweeden. Up until 1949, homosexuality was considered a crime, and it would be punished by two years in a concentration camp. As I listened to these ladies speak of this, I was horrified. Love, pure, true love, was punished so harshly, so cruely. These women, even going through that time, still managed to be who they are. Listening to their stories, their loves, it kind of renewed my faith that everything can work out. I look at what they went through, and I realize that I have had it pretty easy. I mean, yeah, it's been hard, it's been devestatingly hard at times, but I have had it easier than some.

At one point during the show, two of the women looked at each other, and when their eyes met, they both broke out into the most honest, most truthful smiles. That's what I love about love. That's what gives me the strength to smile some days. Knowing that there is someone out there, that just the sight of, just talking to can bring a smile to my face. That's what love is about. So, maybe I really do know what love is.

My mom also wanted to say thank you to those that signed my guestbook about her. She felt special for a day. "They love me, they really love me." For some reason she is so sure that I write horrible things about her in here. She won't believe me when I tell her that most of it is very nice. So, anyway, thank you.

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