She said love? Lord above!

I apologize for not writing in a while. Internet has been down off-and-on both at home and at work. Of course, I could have taken my laptop to Java and accomplished something there but, to be perfectly honest, I have been spending time with someone lately. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, seeing as I am not prone to fits of spontaneous dating, but I really like this guy. And I wouldn’t call the time I spend with him dating, especially since a date generally entails involvement of both parties. But I have been spending significant time with him and I feel I am a better person because of it. He and I are on the same page.

More precisely, I am on page 75 of Searching for God Knows What. I finally read Blue Like Jazz a few months ago and, after reading a couple of other books, I was drawn back to Donald Miller again to read Searching for God. I was only a few chapters into it when I took a brief interlude to read Through the Painted Desert. Hurricane Katrina has had me glued to my television all week and significant energies have been devoted to the celebration of Yetty and Mac’s marital ceremonies, but I am spending the rest of my Labor Day weekend unwinding with Donald.

I have fallen in love with musicians before (Townes Van Zandt, Gram Parsons, Chris Taylor, Rhett Miller, each and every guy in Old Crow Medicine Show), but rarely with an author that I recall. Most of my favorite authors are women, and since I could never be a lesbian because girls are so catty (aside from the whole morality issue), I have not fallen for any of them. I had an infatuation with Fitzgerald in high school, but our values were too opposed for me to fall in love with him. Donald and I, on the other hand, understand each other. Or rather, I feel like I get him, seeing as he has no idea who I am. Realistically, I am sure he sounds much better on paper. I know that I can present pieces of myself on paper that display my wit, my charm and my eccentricities. However, I can refrain from discussing how I clear my sinuses in the shower, or clip my toenails while watching Best Week Ever, or pull into Shakey’s twice in one day. Or I can tell you all of those things and spin them into quirky anecdotes. My point being, my life isn’t nearly as interesting as my writing and everybody poops. I poop. Jesus pooped. Donald Miller poops. But he is also an excellent writer, and I am drawn to people’s words.

In books, in songs, in conversation – I love the way human use language to interact with one another, and I love people who do it well. That’s why I love Gilmore Girls. Amy Sherman-Palladino focuses so much on what is being said and how it is being said that language and its delivery should win an Emmy for best supporting actor. As much as I adore Sookie and Lorelai, their lives would appear extremely mundane without their witty banter.

So for me, I guess communication and self-presentation skills are what make a person sexy. All of us lead mundane lives, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make them sound more intriguing. Some people have beautiful bodies and some people have beautiful brains, and I know many people who are blessed with both. Some people use their bodies to attract people, and some bodies attract others without trying. Some people use their brains to attract people, and some brains attract others without trying. I don’t know if Donald Miller intended to attract people through his writing, but I for one am definitely smitten.