Location: Vienna, Virginia, United States

A graduate of Dartmouth College (2005) and Washington and Lee University School of Law (2010). These are my personal blogs, and the musings expressed on them do not reflect the positions of my employer. They do reflect my readings, thoughts, and aspirations, which I figure is good enough.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007


I swear, that despite the fact that I've seen "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" several times, despite completely forgetting the fact that Valentine's Day, several Valentine's Day's in fact, has such an integral role in the story, I had not intentioned to place it on my Netflix queue so that it would arrive in time for me to view it on Valentine's Day.

I'm not suggesting that I would like to go through a similar procedure to the main character in the movie. It's hardly my wish to forget five years of my life, and contrary to the movie, I can honestly say that there are many, many more positive experiences I can remember than negative (though perhaps, they just showed the negative experiences in the movie first to give some juxtaposition). The simple truth is that were I to erase my memories of Jen, I would be erasing virtually every experience that I had over that time. Kind of like how Jim Carrey's character has to go back to his childhood for a memory without Kate Winslet's character.

I would have nothing, just a jump between senior year of high school and the present, except perhaps some classes here and there. Maybe Japanese prints, and I suppose my thesis on John Milton. African American literary studies and an introduction to field methods in Ecology.

And yet I can't deny that the thought has crossed my mind, to do the same to her as I feel she has done to me. I didn't know it was possible to go through five years with someone, and just forget them the next day; no calls, no emails, no contact at all. Nary an update on her status or a curious word inquiring my general health and well-being.

While perhaps I expected less contact now compared to when we were together, I hardly expected to be cut out entirely. And yet I have. I think that if anything still burns me three months after the fact, makes me seeth and at the same time feel confused and wonder if perhaps someone had erased her memory of me, (and then taken my place by taking our collective memories and using them to curry favor with her) it's the fact that I seem to have gone from being in a relationship that defined me as a person (good or bad, that's the truth) to being in a vacuum.

Our relationship did define me. Maybe it defined her too, and she didn't like that. I was still me, of course, but I expected to be asked about Jen at work, by my friends, and so on and so forth. Pronouns are powerful things. The royal we replacing the I. The us replacing the me. And now, after five years, I suddenly find myself me again. Not knowing what or who 'me' is.

A vacuum isn't as bad as it sounds. Over the past two months I've come to terms with myself. The fact that I hate that I've lost all my musical instincts, the fact that I don't like the way I look. And so being in a vacuum by myself (how wonderfully solipsistic), I've fixed that.

I bought an acoustic guitar off Craigslist. It looks awesome (an old Blueridge), and I can play a few chords. D, G, A minor, C . . ., and I'm doing some right hand exercises all the time. I'm working on a bar chord now, F. It hurts, although I'm building up some great calluses.

I've been exercising. First I went down to the last belt notch on my old belt (I had been on the second to last, I think it was a 34), and then on the iPod belt that Jen got me for Christmas (just about the last time I talked to her), I went from the second to last notch to the last notch. I have abs again! Nice ones too! And my face isn't as fat as it was two months ago. Maybe I don't blame my image entirely for the breakup, but I can't help but think that it took a large part of it.

I was probably up to 185 lbs, even 190 before. I'm probably at 180 now, and dropping.

Perhaps as a test of self-discipline, I've given up meat. Besides fish. I don't think I can give up tuna or sushi. I may eat turkey still (not the processed deli meat kind, the real bird and cranberry sauce kind)

Undoubtedly, I got a little complacent. My waistline was testament to that. Maybe all couples get lazy at some point. It's one of my deepest regrests that for some reason, we couldn't get over that hump. And now that it's over, I'm continuing forward like there's no chance for reconciliation, because I think any thought of that on my part would breed more laziness. The idea that if I sit on my ass, she'll come back. That sentiment's not part of me now, and I'm happy about that.

End Note: Michel Gondry's a genius. And three wine glasses of genshu sake make me spill things out in writing I wouldn't otherwise.


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