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Location: Work.
Listening: "Leaving On A Jet Plane" ~ (John Denver cover) Bjork & Jewel.

I'll start by mentioning that everyone from Peter, Paul, and Mary to the Skatalites to N'Sync has covered this song. A search on BearShare turned up dozens of different versions, some of which (specifically, the punk, ska, and metal) were simply astounding. Apparently, something in this particular song touches singers across the genres. The Bjork/Jewel duet is pretty (Bjork lilts through the bulk of the stanzas while Jewel plays guitar and backs on choruses), but a little too plaintive for my taste. Strange to say, but my favorite version of this song is still the one from Armageddon, when the riggers-cum-astronauts sing as they head out to the launch platform. I don't have much use for the rest of the film, but that scene gets to me.

Not much left of the workday, and I'm ready to be home. Went up into LA last night to celebrate Williams' 27th birthday with Chris, Dan and Shanti, Matt and Jill, Austin and Elicia, Wendy, and Owen. Only a handful of us could make the dinner at Hakata; the others met up with us back at Dan and Shanti's. They missed one of those small feasts that I love, where there's plenty of food on the table, everyone's encouraged to have a bite of this or a taste of that, and smaller cares are set aside in the name of the moment.

The rest of the evening was pleasant, but at times surreal. Peter and I haven't really ventured forth in over a month, so, for me, at least, being surrounded by the crew again was simultaneously refreshing and strange. The more time I spend with Peter, the more aware I become of how much we differ in opinion, action and reaction from others. This is not a qualitative judgement--I don't necessarily feel that these differences render us somehow better than others--it's simply an observation. This could easily be a result of the uncanny similarities between he and I (that we continue to discover--we found out that we have the same blood type during the Midwest trip) and the gaps that those traits, expressed individually, created between ourselves and others before we ever met. Essentially, we were both always individually a little different; now, we're different, in ways similar to each other, together. I've stopped being surprised when we'll spend an evening out and then, when sharing perceptions of events later, mention the same relatively obscure gesture or comment made by someone else in the group. More often than not, we go on to agree with each other's conclusions about said gestures or comments. Occasionally, our parallels of thought and behavior lead me to wonder if loving him isn't an exercise in narcissism. Then I remember that he doesn't like tuna fish.

Basically, Peter and I have, largely unconsciously I think, created an environment for ourselves centred on coffee, cigarettes, creative fits and starts, and the nurturing of a shared collection of eclectic knowledge and stories involving everything from Christo-pagan sects to English change ringing. We've settled deeply into our routines and have become so accustomed to having our preferences known and provided for that, I think, contact with elements outside of that demi-world seems even more jarring than it otherwise might. I often end up confused at least once or twice every time we venture out--by someone's reaction to something or the progression of a particular conversation or the impetus behind an action. This usually results in my being intensely conflicted between wanting to entrench myself further into my life at 1260 and knowing I need to move past my momentary discomfort at realizing that the macrocosm doesn't make sense anymore. Lately, the former has been winning.

I've questioned myself as to whether or not this could be considered a codependent state. I've always had a problem with the term. The definition of "codependent" utilized most frequently in our society seems to, on multiple levels, come very close to what I've always heard described as "love". I understand the more extreme differences, but it seems that the moment anyone confesses that they feel such a deep attachment to someone that they would rather not be where that person is not, they are labeled "codependent". I have always considered myself to be a very independent person. I've forged my own path often enough and managed to land on my feet in some extremely adverse circumstances. I've made the choice on many occasions to be alone rather than to remain in a relationship with someone I loved, but who was detrimental to my mental, emotional, or physical health. I have my various phobias and reservations as a result--everything one experiences deeply will leave traces. However, I actively try to not allow these things to dictate my behavior. I don't feel that my relationship with Peter is codependent because I know that while I would prefer not to live my life without him, I know that I could. The quality of that life would likely not equal the quality of my life with him, but I would find happiness in different ways. The decision to continue in my life with him is informed by this knowledge. I find joy and (my own strange form of) tranquility and contentment in my life with Peter. I don't find my sole reason for existing; that was my own when I met him and always will be. Love is largely about choice--and we choose to be with each other. Pretty simple, really. We just need to figure out how to mesh the world we create by and for ourselves with the...rest...of...the...world.

Yeah.