As I said before digression is, for me, a way of life. Also, this is an artist’s colony of cats, so I make up my own rules. Artist’s are supposed to act on inspiration,and be temperamental. Who am I to disappoint or challenge stereotypes?

So, for the ten of you who read Friday’s post, I apologize that today’s post will not be a continuation of Friday’s, but I promise to address the unanswered questions at some point soon. In the meantime, those of you trying to get a pulse on me have another opportunity.

For today, I thought I would share this letter that I wrote to my iPhone. If you’d like to see an app that helps you forget, maybe you can comment. Typically, consumer complaints are taken more seriously when made by a number of consumers, so feel free to add.

Dear iPhone,

We need to have a talk about your memory, and about things I am trying to forget of which continue to remind me. I hope that’s its accidental, though I must say your timing suggests otherwise.

Friday night, after watching the Bruce Jenner special, I was a little beside myself and crying. Not because of Bruce’s transition, although I have to admit, I’ll miss the face that once graced my Wheaties box. He is brave for coming out and personally I have no trouble accepting people who are transgender…Republicans, well, I’m really trying to be open-minded. Can we leave it at that? I can only grow so much at a time.

In any case, the reason that I was crying was because I was touched by how supportive Bruce’s family is. Their tolerance for his being different moved me to tears, in part because my own family’s idea of tolerance extends to attending a picnic where there is no dill potato salad.

That’s my real family anyway. Last year, I had sort of a pseudo family that was to become my real family, though at the time they were simply my fiancé and his family. When we got engaged, they welcomed me in such a warm, yet unfamiliar way, but the moment my fiancé called it off because he changed his mind, I became to them a stranger. People told me this is normal, that’s how it works. And yet I watched as messages of support for Bruce were read by Diane Sawyer from ex wives, former teammates, old opponents, my theory of true love seemed plausible. Missing from the special was a comment from Kris Jenner, but when Perez Hilton commented about this on twitter, Kris readjusted his perspective telling him “Fuck you Perez”, and then went on to inform him, and the world, that she was sitting beside Bruce watching the special.

To me this was a demonstration of true love. I believe when you really love someone, you don’t just shut them out of your life. If things work as planned or not, if you wind up living in two houses or the same, if you share a last name or a last breath, or you walk away before you make that pledge, or sometime after you do: if you really love someone they are not, as Beyoncé would say, “irreplaceable”- instead, they forever occupy a space in your heart. This space may grow bigger or smaller, it may be relocated or reorganized, but it’s still there and so are you, to some extent, for that person. On this my fiancé and I never agreed.

Now, Mr. Five C, I have been struggling to find a way to live with that space in my heart, and not go mad. Over the past couple of months, it has grown smaller, and it no longer occupies any prime real estate. It’s more like my old high school yearbook that I won’t throw out, but is stored in such a far recess of my home that it can not be kept dusted, and would take a while to unearth, should I want to get it out. This shrinking and relocation process has involved a lot of: travel, thought, exercise, meditation, a couple of cats, a new career and of course-therapy. In other words, iPhone, it hasn’t been easy. And while I was viewing the kind of supportive love I want and recognizing that had I gotten married, I might never have found it, was it really necessary for to you buzz me a reminder that said: wedding tomorrow, right before I went to sleep?

I know, I know. I told you that months ago, but have you not seen the text messages I have typed on you for the past ten months? Have you not been present during countless tearful, joyous, angry and melancholy phone calls in which I discussed, with various people, that it is off. Why did you have to remind me when I’ve tried so hard to forget? By the way, since you are able to give reminders, how about you add an app that helps me forget, if you are such a smartphone…which tbh, I have my doubts about…and don’t give me your Steve Jobs shit either. Because he made you doesn’t mean you don’t have to work properly.

I suppose since you have been waking me up,and keeping me in touch with my most important contacts, I can let this one slide. Just promise, no reminders of him or that, k? Consider this my reminder, and please don’t forget.

Laurie

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