Moi aussi

1. Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.

2. I'll tell you what song/movie/book/fictional character/SOMETHING reminds me of you.

3. I'll pick a flavor of pudding to wrestle with you in.

4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me. Well, maybe just me.

5. I'll tell you my favorite memory of you, should I have one yet.

6. I'll tell you what animal or plant you remind me of.

7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

(Thanks, pinkrhino, for passing it on.)

Thought

A thought: living with your beloved for a while is like acquiring a new sense that you didn't know you had -- like suddenly acquiring a sense of smell, when you hadn't had one before. The first few times you come into contact with this startling new thing in your life, you feel the urge to do everything a lot: run around, do lots of activities, make lots of love, lots of talk. And then you sort of settle into this idea that you really do have an extra thing, or an extra sense, and you just pull your load and trust him to do his thing, and enjoy it when that extra sense steps in and helps you run your life.

So I'm sad that Matt's not here anymore, but it's not the profound sense of depression that I would've had a few months ago; it's just a feeling of "huh. Well, back to the same few senses I was using before, and I'll live, but it does feel profoundly odd to be missing this extra integral sense I was using before..."