"The dissenter is every human being at those moments of his life when he resigns momentarily from the herd and thinks for himself." -- Archibald MacLeish
Ah, Saturday. My shoulder's still acting up, blasted thing. At least it doesn't hurt as much as it did two days ago. Man, that was a bitch. The other bitch of it is that I had set aside Thursday and Friday to work on a project that has been begging for my attention, but because of the tightness and cramping in my shoulder, this could not be done and I'm trying not to mourn the loss of two days worth of productivity. Like my love says, hey, it was research, because now there will be a story, a column about the ordeal, one I would not have had I not wasted these last few days on pain.
But onto brighter, happier subjects! While sifting through pictures (to find some suitable fat pics as my "befores" to present once I reach my "after"), we came upon this photo:
Let me explain. It was the evening of July 4, three years ago, and David, using long exposure on his digital camera, decided to make the moon mine by writing my name with its light.
I remember how special I felt that I had inspired such an artistic and sweet endeavor. It was an action born of the romance novels I grew up reading and I could not for the life of me believe that I was starring in a real-life version of a love story.
At the end of September, we'll have been together for four years, the four happiest years of my life. Being with a man who doesn't allow the opinions of others to influence his decisions has empowered me to live my life more honestly than I might otherwise have done.
That's the kind of person you want to have around you -- one who inspires you to be the best you that you can be, who encourages you to achieve your dreams. And to shrug off all of the nay-sayers. But now I'm getting sappy.
The photo is proof enough that the man I love has, in his unique way, given me the moon.