Sweet Home Adelbert

The really nice thing about insomnia is that the tired-but-not-sleepy feeling persists throughout the day, so I have had no more trouble than usual staying awake and feeling motivated. It also gave the day a pleasant dream-like cast, which went very well with the artsy weather today. It's exactly like some director would imagine April in Cleveland to be--wet, wormy, and mild.

I am waiting anxiously by the phone for J to call. This woman is my best friend in the entire world--she's the kind of person I like to introduce to strangers as either my sister or my girlfriend, and I'm not sure which is more appropriate. She's in town for a French thingy-do, and she and her co-competitor and I are going out for dinner. As soon as she calls.

J and I, well, there just aren't enough words to tell the story. I am never quite sure if we are the exact same person, or so far opposite each other that we're actually the same--and I'm actually pretty sure that that phrase is not mine, but I like it. This is the woman who's held my hand through more stupidity than could ever be measured, yelled at me when I needed yelling at, kissed me when I needed loving, woke me up at 7 am crying in a phone booth in France, who taught me to do cartwheels and distractedly dance through life.

We've pulled ourselves through the gauntlet of human emotion over the past few years: indifference, irritation, shy liking, respect, love, infatuation, obsession, and have come out on the other side with a bond that's not quite definable but is stronger than any bond save that of family I've ever known.

We don't talk as often now (she's planning a wedding) as we used to, and we don't see as much of each other either, and that's just fine. She and I will endure.