I feel silly but so happily silly right now.

I am looking back and seeing how much I have achieved and smiling and thinking, shit, this is my life. For more effect, I’ll repeat, this is my life, my goddamn fucking life! Just holy cow, I am thinking. I woke up feeling so fantastic yesterday, much more so today. It honestly feels like I am given a second chance to make things right again. I basically did a lot of cleaning around the house to celebrate my recovery, not that I was dying or anything serious like that, it was just a very nasty cold. I also found a very motivating blog of a wife and mother, with a cancer-stricken husband who fought cancer, and now, he has the chance to see his three young boys grow up to be fine young men. Just makes me love life more than ever and find glee in having lost my voice and even in the poor spider waddling in the glass of lukewarm water I left unattended for just a few seconds. Sadistic I know, but hey, my head doesn't feel like it’s filled with heavy black smoke and a thousand little needles.

I spent the entire, yet another sleepless night of yesterday, going through one blog post to another and then, I decided perhaps it is time I get a little bit more personal with my blog, too. I don’t know if I am personal enough with my entries  maybe I already am, maybe I am not. I think I am vaguely personal. I like talking in circles and popping out of the bushes like little red roses once in a while, but maybe now, I want to tell you more about who I am and write about the people I love (there aren't a lot, to be honest, because I don’t have too much love to give away and I will warn you, if I do this, you readers are bound to be bored with a lot of stuffs on what my daily life (read: boring) is like, focusing mainly on this stroll of life I am taking with the gentleman. He is me and I am he, we are two rolled in one. He is terrifyingly like me and I am exactly like him. ‘Just the milder version,’ as he likes to put it. My life just comes to rust and dust if I do not have him. Cheesy but completely true to a point of tad bit creepy, because that is how dependent I am on him to make life better for me. He hates it but that is just something he has to put up with, for the rest of our lives together.)

As if I was not high on life already, gentleman added more sugar to it. He occasionally does this thing where he asks me a lot of random questions that almost usually starts from, ‘What is my favorite color?’ or ‘What is my favorite fruit?’ or ‘What is my favorite food?’ Crap but goddamn when he does this, it makes me realize I have someone, who at this age, still bothers to ask me about my favorite color. That is so five-years-old! He must really love me a billion times. I love being five-years-old with him, and 18-years-old, 22-years-old, 32-years-old, 55-years-old and even 102-years-old.  Though, it took him a couple of asking and memorizing to finally know the answers himself but he still asks those questions. It’s like a game for him and I go all *%&#! He sure does know all the right ways to hit all my wrong nerves. Like I said, that is just the preface before, he goes into deeper profound questions. Now, this game, I enjoy. He takes me by my hand and enters me into a philosophical class I never knew I even signed up for. Today, his first logical question after a few of annoying questions was, “If you could change the world, what that would be?” I didn't have to think a lot about it. I have always been passionate about finding a cure for cancer.

“But that doesn't change the world.”

“Yes it would. Cancer would no longer rob people of their time (and more).”

“But that still doesn't change the world.”

Clearly annoyed now, I could possibly have screamed, “But it changes the world I live in.”

He annoys me plenty and I pretty much drive him batshit crazy. He hates me, he loves me. I hate him, I love him.

“If you had to change your name and you couldn't run away from it, what would it be?”

“I am not going to change my name, no fucking way.”

“But you have it, its official thing; you could land in jail (and the yadah).”

“I will tell them, ‘No fucking way! I just won’t allow it.'”

“But you just have to.”

“Okay, I will name myself ‘X’!”

“But they want a real human name.”

Annoyed again, and screaming at him to just stop being so irritating, I said, “Fine, Jenny it is.”

And he is happy. Gosh, he is so maddening.

   

He asks me about my favorite books, I have none. I justified with him saying, “It’s like asking me who my favorite child is.” He was reasoned enough. Five favorite authors? I just had four and he insisted I name a fifth because he asked for five. Oh goddamn him! Again, I reasoned with him saying, “I cannot tell about a fifth child I don’t have.” Oh, it’s a wonder really why I cannot get enough of him and why I even bother to talk to him, at all. And if you think that is all that is to him, his magnitude of annoyance I mean, wrong!  

“So if writing was forbidden, it was unlawful, what would you do?”

“I would still write. I wouldn't care.”

“They will jail you for it!”

“Still would write. I wouldn't want to die a coward and for heaven’s sake, who imposes such laws?”

“Even if they hang you naked, out in the open?”

“Yes.”

“Or maybe, they will not hang you and instead leave you naked outside, alive, and let vultures feed on you.”

“Yes. It will never change.”

“Even if they put you naked in front of people……….”

At that point, I got super provoked so I don’t remember how that question ended. You do not ask such questions to a person like me who makes a living through writing. Jeez! Yes, come to think of it, I think I probably won that one with that.

He wrapped up the therapist-patient conversation with, “It is to see how loose your screw is and if I need to tighten it, how much then.Thank you for answering with honesty.”  And that he is hungry, he wants to go have something and he just leaves me at, “eh?” Thanks very much for the free consultation. He is pretty much an idiot, as you can tell. He essentially takes me as a weirdly wired up childish little pampered girl, who wants to celebrate her birthday with a lot of silly hats and silly costumes, where I make everybody treat me like a princess if not I will not give them goody bags at the end of the day. I don’t know why he does all this; as a mere entertainment for me mostly I suppose. Other times, I think he does it for inspiration --  to inspire me or to inspire himself, and he always leaves me inspired and reminds me that I still have some humanity in me, in this harsh little world and that I still have a golden heart, even though it is plenty smaller than a lot of golden hearts. Or maybe, he is simply trying very hard to understand me. And here I sit, smiling and thinking, being thankful for all that I have in my life and some of which I wish I didn't have, and that I couldn't have a better person to call my most favorite person in entire the world. But of course, when we fight, he is but a devil, a devil who still manages to make my life infinite rosier than it was before him.

Yes you genius, you finally figured out, I am so madly, madly in love with him. ;) 

Love,

Genisha

P.s: If I feel like it, I am even going to change the 'About Author' section today too, so please care enough to read about me, boast about me (that shouldn't be challenging)! But my eyes feels like it is about to pop out and I am starting to feel really nauseous.