The image was completely clear and I couldn't believe how much of Saturn we could see. The Cassini division was easily distinguishable and I could see the south pole of the planet. We then looked at Venus and a few stars. I kept coming back to Saturn since, to me, it was the most magnificent thing I ever saw.

I've been freaking out about the upcoming wedding.

For one reason or another, I seem to find an opportunity to break down about it weekly. A good friend of mine says I have the jitters.

I guess it depends on your definition.

I've always associated wedding jitters with worry related to the person you're marrying. If we use my definition, I definitely don't have the jitters. I've been with Jake for over seven years and I've had a lot of time to think whether he's the sort of man I can spend forever with or not. I've had opportunities to meet tons of other people and still am fully convinced that he's my favorite person in the world.

Bar none.

So if Jake's not the problem, why are you freaking out? one might ask. It appears there's more to getting married than the man with whom you're tying the knot.

One big part of it is the actual wedding party. What has become apparent to me is that it's impossible for us to have a truly low-key wedding. So the bigger the wedding gets, the more concerned I become. The more chance things might not go as planned, especially since I didn't plan all that much. Not to mention, I have only been to three weddings in my life, one of which was my sister's, none of which was American. So I can't even swing it since I don't know the list and order in which things are done.

But the bigger issue isn't the day, it's the 'forever.' The fact that I am old, adult and mature enough to make a decision that will last forever. Before you go into your diatribe on how marriages aren't necessarily forever and I'm allowed to change my mind and stuff, I would like to note that I plan for mine to be forever. I understand that things can change and it might not end up being forever but, if it's alright with you, I'd like to plan on having it last forever. Marriage, to me, is the first step I've made as an adult. College, moving to the United States, moving into my own apartment, starting a job, quitting a career, moving in with my boyfriend have all seemed less permanent. Less daunting.

And I can't exactly put my finger on why this is so daunting, but I know that it is. I know that it means more responsibility. It means more mature behavior. It is a door to more responsibility, such as having children. It's a step where I can see the tunnel that is the rest of my life. Jake is someone I want by me for each of the steps I will make down that tunnel. So I know I chose the right person.

But I'm just scared that I could have chosen the wrong tunnel. And I'd like to reserve the right to switch. And somehow, until now I felt like I could move around and take different paths, but now that I will be married, everyone will be expecting me to walk down this one specific path and I am more likely to screw up.

So would that be categorized as having the jitters?

Previously? Richter at the MOMA.

The Almitra spoke again and said, what of Marriage, master?
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow. - Khalil Gibran - The Prophet

There were days when I would have been shocked by the above words. Together yet not too near together? What do you mean, I would have thought, aren't we supposed to want to stand completely by each other and depend on each other and give up part of who we are? Marriage and partnering for life are all about compromises, after all. Right?

Well, it appears my opinion on those matters has shifted somewhat in the recent days/months/years. Not that I don't still believe that marriage is about compromise. Actually, I think most relationships, whether they be romantic, friendly or professional are all somewhat about compromise. But I no longer think that choosing to be with someone means being one with that person. I don't believe that partnering for life equals giving up self-identity. On the contrary, I love the idea of choosing to be beside one person and sharing and caring and fulfilling each other.

It appears I am marveling in the glory of individuality and sense of self. The idea of joining to perform miracles without having to become one thing appeals to me. It no longer seems necessary to make the eternal sacrifice or ask for it in return. Instead, it feels joyous. Like something I want to do. Like something I can do. Like something I choose to do. Not something I must do.

It's not about giving up me, it's about having someone alongside of me forever. Growing together but separately.

Individually.

Previously? Perfetto.

As I explained yesterday I'm not very good at coming up with ideas on what to write lately, so I decided to use the aid of some hardware. I bought If and a bunch of other several books in college when it was fun to talk about such random issues with random strangers. To be fully honest, I don't think I've cracked the book since then but this seems a good time as any.

So here's today's question: If you had to name the single most important quality of a good mate, what would it be?

Honesty: I think honesty is at the root of any healthy relationship. Even though it can be mean or not-so-fun-to-hear at times, but it's still better than any untruth. Maybe this is exceptionally important to me because I worry too much and am not always completely self-confident. Ask any paranoid, the stories he or she is capable of coming up with are way worse than any awful truth. Honesty is also the core of trust and once you lose trust, what exactly do you have left? If I know that my partner is being fully honest with me at all times, all the extra layers of garbage are automatically peeled off and we're communicating at the most fundamental of all levels. An honest mate is a mate who respects me and values me.

What other qualities?

Compassion: Someone I can lean on. Someone who will care for me and take the time to listen to me and understand me. Sounds cheesy but I think most people in the world want to be understood. Someone to listen to what I'm actually saying. Someone who will just hug me when there's no good option. Someone who will choose to be by my side through thick and thin. Someone who loves his family, babies and animals. Someone who's not embarrassed to kiss me in public.

Laughter: Someone who makes me laugh. Not much to say here. I love a man who can make me laugh.

Intelligence: I like people who make me think, people that give me different opinions, people who have interesting hobbies, people who can introduce me to new worlds.

How about you? What's the single most important quality that you care about?

Previously? Quiet.

Life can change in a moment's notice.

My interview went well, thank you to all of those who sent me wonderful messages and crossed limbs. I don't know the results yet and will not find out for a few weeks. All I could think of last night was how it's all over and now I just get to wait.

I'm not good at waiting.

Normally, that is. Ordinarily, I am just as stressed as if I actually had a say in what happens. But last night, I was so tired, so worn out that I just wanted to sleep. Just enjoy the momentary lack of obligations. And then my whole world changed.

A four-word question.

A magical moment.

A christmas tree shimmering with red white and blue, lit up angels, complete shock and public applause.

A single moment.

It didn't even stop there. It kept compounding. One set of good news after the other. One more unbelievable than the previous. So much so that waiting is not a problem anymore. It will probably take me a few weeks just to process all this news. Just to wipe off the smile from my face.

A single moment.

That's all it took.

Previously? Vortex.

A week ago, I called my mom and asked her why she chose to marry my dad.

"I was sixteen," she replied, matter-of-factly.

She went on to explain that she loved my father and in those days, people were too young to analyze it much further than that. My sister got married when she was twenty-three. Her boyfriend, who became her husband, has consistently been her best friend. So she was using more long-term criteria than my mom, but nothing too detailed.

Many of the unmarried women around me have a much more complicated set of requirements from a plausible marriage partner. To them, it's not enough to love. It's not enough to be best friends, either. They wonder if this man will make a good living. Is he successful? Is he patient? Does he like children? Will he make a good father? Will he be caring to her parents? Is he going to let her have her independence? Can he cook? Will he share some of the chores?

These are just some of the issues my friends raise. Not to mention the fundamentals, like physical attraction. They are twenty-seven and they have their own career, their own priorities, their own lives and the man is supposed to fit into all of that smoothly or it's not going to work.

Which is why it doesn't.

They either can't find a man or won't put up with the imperfections of the ones they do find. It seems that the longer you put it off, the more complicated marriage becomes. The older we are, the more established our lives are, the harder it is to fit the man into it. The more demanding we become, the less likely such a man exists.

What's the right way? Do we marry in faith and with love or do we compile a list of demands and find the man who meets them all?

My opinion is that, as in most things, the answer lies somewhere in the middle. While it's not a bad idea to make sure the man in your life is kind and caring to babies as well as you, it's also okay to not dwell on every tiny detail. It's really not that big a deal if he doesn't bring you flowers every weekend. He can forget to unfold a piece of clothing. What matters still are the core things. Love, friendship, caring and having similar values.

Sometimes it's best not to be so demanding.

Previously? Limbo.

I've always had bad luck with crushes.

The odor of alcohol mixed with the rotten food stuck onto the dishes in the sink. It kept attacking my nostrils, forcing my stomach to do flips. My brain yelled at my body for not concentrating on the issue at hand. With his fingers around my neck, was bad smell really my primary concern?

His fingers curled around my neck. Not tight enough to holler for the police, but too tight for comfort. Too tight for me to gulp. His eyes started directly into mine, overcome with anger. Spiteful words sprung from his mouth.

"You're a piece of garbage."

"You're worthless."

Tears filled up my eyes but didn't dare to fall down. I knew crying was a bad idea. It would only serve to infuriate him further in his intoxicated state. He was so large, and his arms so strong, that all he needed to do was lift his hands slightly and my body would follow. He could easily pick me off of my feet. He hadn't even bothered to lift his other hand; one was enough to cover the area necessary to grab.

I didn't like his fingers around my neck. In fact, I worried I might throw up, which would be much worse than crying. But I didn't panic. I didn't yell. I didn't blabber, like I usually did. I whispered softly. There were people in the living room and I wasn't about to make a scene. I wanted this to end as quickly as possible. I didn't even disagree.

"You're no better than the scum in the trashcan," didn't sound so far-fetched to me. I really had provoked him, although for the life of me, I couldn't remember how this particular fight had started. He might have been right. He probably was right.

All I wanted was for this to stop. As the tears started pouring down my cheeks, I apologized. I told him he was right. I'd fix it, whatever it was. I'd make it better. We could work it out. We would work it out. At that moment, nothing mattered besides his happiness. He was right and I was wrong. I needed him to forgive me.

The stench of vodka burned my eyes. The heat in the room made his palm sweat. His voice was getting louder and I worried his friends would overhear. I whispered more, as if to overcompensate for his lack of quiet. I tried to reason with him. I told him that I loved him and that I would fix it. I was there for him. I'd always been there for him. We'd make it work. My mind buzzed, like an overzealous student, trying to find the right words. The magic words.

Anything.

I wasn't angry. I didn't doubt him. Nor hate him. All that would come later. For now, I was desperate. Desperate for him to understand. Desperate for him to love me again. For the anger to dissipate. For the hatred to end. I begged. I groveled. I cried.

He let go.

Previously? Competition.

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who ignore problems and those who like to work through them.

It would be fair to say that I belong to the latter group. Until recently, I thought this was a desirable and mature characteristic.

Let's talk about the ones who believe in the bliss of ignorance. To me the idea that a problem would disappear if only it were never addressed sounded ludicrous. I kept saying "Are you telling me that if I completely ignore his picking his nose all day long, he'll actually stop?" I know many people who act as if the problems are simply not there. Some even make excuses to cover up. Anything, as long as we don't have to face the real issue.

I just think this option never gives the other person the benefit of the doubt. If a friend's behavior is upsetting me and I never tell her, she could possibly keep on doing it and I'd have no right to get more agitated, though I most likely would anyhow. Ignoring the issue only allows it to reoccur and it says to the other person that I don't think it would be worth my time to talk to her.

So it made perfect sense that if an issue arose between me and a person I cared about, I'd sit down as quickly as possible and tell the person my concerns. It also made sense to me that we would discuss the issue and our feelings about it until we came to possible resolutions and even picked one to try out.

I also used to subscribe to the 'don't go to bed angry' belief. So that mentality coupled with the previous made it dreadful when any problems occurred. Especially if the other party was one who likes to ignore the issues.

Imagine if you will, me sitting up in bed, frustrated about a problem and trying to talk it out with my boyfriend. He's tired and all he can think of is how to make this problem go away so we can sleep. So I talk and he nods. I suggest resolutions and he agrees to anything. I can tell what he's doing so I get more frustrated and now he's annoyed I won't drop it. Then I start realizing it's getting late but I can't go to bed angry, so it's even more urgent that we resolve the problem. So I push harder. I want him to cooperate. I need him to listen. He'd better believe in resolving issues and start suggesting viable resolutions or...

Well, you can imagine the rest. Not a pretty picture.

It seems there's a good time for ignoring an issue and a good time for addressing it. And nothing has to be done 'now'. If your relationship is solid, it's okay to go to bed angry and then resolve the issue in the morning when you're both calmer. It's even okay to ignore it for a while so the other person can breathe and be ready to talk. And it's also okay to ignore some things completely. Many habits come and go, instead of fighting each of them; I've learned it's best to pick your fights.

It's best to resolve the major issues, or at least really try to, and let go of the small ones. If the small problem gets bigger, you can address it then. On the other hand, if it disappears, you avoided some unnecessary talk.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting ignoring an alcohol problem or a situation where one person feels used. I'm talking about the little things, like putting the dishes next to the sink or not picking up the towels when they fall. Not everything needs a four-hour conversation, not everything needs to be fixed.

Next time you see a towel on the floor, think hard about how much time it will take for you to resolve that forever compared to the amount of time it will take you to simply pick it up.

And then pick the damn towel up.

Previously? Lead vs Follow.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

As always, I'm sure they're right. Thankfully, we all have our own ideas of beauty so that the wide varieties of humans who occupy the earth are each considered beautiful by one person or another.

I spoke to my mom yesterday and she told me about an event she had attended the previous evening. The event was organized by a distant family member I dislike. My mom said that the woman's daughter looked absolutely gorgeous and I replied, "She's such a terrible person that it's impossible for me to see her beauty."

After we hung up, I thought about my words and realized they were a perfect example of my true sentiments. When I see a stranger on the street, I might think she or he is beautiful but as soon as I get to know a person, my feelings about that person fully affect how good looking I think he or she is.

This is not to say that I don't have a "type". Even though the men I've dated have a wide range of looks, there are commonalities among them and I know that I prefer scrawny to buff. I like blue or green eyes. I tend to go for men who wear glasses. That's about it. So when I met Jake, I was attracted to him. But over the years, as I fell more and more in love, Jake got more and more handsome in my eyes.

The same goes for my close friends and people I admire and it's one of my favorite things about the web. The fact that I don't get influenced by the facial image before I get to know a person makes it such that I think the person is beautiful before I meet him or her and once I have that image it rarely goes away.

It's as if the inner beauty (or lack thereof) reflects on to someone's face and features.

I don't know if this behavior is specific to me, but I enjoy having it. While it makes it less pleasant for me to be around people I don't like, it makes it a total joy to be around my loved ones. I feel like I am often surrounded by beautiful humans.

What could be more wonderful?

Previously? Tearful Meetings.

At a quick glance, the men I've been with have nothing in common.

People say who you hang out with says a lot about who you are. In that case, I assume whom you date says even more. As opposed to our family, we choose our friends and significant others.

Including Jake, I've had four men in my life. Each had different heights and weights, with different colored hair and eyes. Different economic and religious backgrounds. Different family structures. Different levels of intelligence and motivation.

There are commonalities. Three of them had colored eyes and wore glasses. Three of them were scrawny and tall. Not that these things matter. Their personalities were each completely different. Most people who've met all four are quite confused at my lack of consistency.

But not me.

When I think of these men, I can tell exactly why all three were able to capture my heart.

They made me laugh.

I'm not sure why other people choose partners, but I tend to pick people that I think complement me. I look for happy men who will push me to try different things. I pick men who are more comfortable in their skin. I figure if I choose someone exactly like me, not only would it be no fun, but I wouldn't be able to grow.

The men in my life have all introduced new worlds to me. They made me see issues from a totally opposite perspective. They made (and continue to make, in Jake's case) life delightfully interesting.

When I choose friends, I tend to do a little bit of both. I have really close friends who have a similar background, value structure and family life to me. I also have friends who challenge my thought process, my beliefs, my lifestyle and my choices. If I surround myself only with people who agree with me, I don't believe I'd realize my mistakes as quickly. But all my friends have the same sense of loyalty to friendship as I do.

I think the people we choose to be with does say a lot about who we are and who we strive to be and with whom we are willing to associate.

Look at your life. Are all your friends the same? Why did you pick the people in you life? What do they have in common?

It's always good to know.

Previously? At the Movies.

My first official boyfriend and I started dating a few months before I turned sixteen. Before he came along, I'd sort of been dating my best friend but we never publicly admitted it.

So this guy, whom we'll call James for ease of use, and I had known each other for ages. That summer we spent a lot of time together and finally became exclusive. At the time, there was no such thing as dating in Turkey, at least in my surroundings. You either were friends with someone or you were exclusive.

So James and I start seeing each other. We spend the next two years together. During this time we had many high points and a lot of hard times. I think that, overall, we had a pretty wonderful relationship. We laughed a lot. We cared for each other a lot and we fought little.

Since I was twelve years old, everyone around me has known that I planned to go to the US for college and for the rest of my life. It's been a consistent and public goal. In the months before I left for college, James and I spoke at length about the future of our relationship. I wanted to stay together and see where it goes but he said we were to breakup. It wasn't up for discussion.

So we separated. He took me to the airport on my last day and we kissed goodbye. We did talk on the phone during the first few weeks. After a month or two, I mentioned possibly seeing other people and he totally freaked. That was the beginning of the end. After a freaky few months, we stopped talking altogether. I started seeing someone else.

During the several trips home, I called him and tried to make up. It never worked. He was always cordial but we never spoke more than three words again.

This year, it will have been nine years since James and I broke up and we still don't speak. It seems like such a shame that I shared two beautiful years with someone whom I loved and gave a piece of my heart to and today we're nothing more than a "hello."

I don’t know what, but shouldn't it be more than that?

Previously? One Life to Live

Words spill from my mouth before I can think. Even as I’m saying them I know it’s going to end bad. Yet I can’t stop myself.

We’ve been here so many times before. At one point, these words had become second nature. They felt comfortable and common, like chewing gum as we say in my language. We’d yell them out without any consideration or worry about hurting the other person. Something small would become the most important issue ever.

But not lately. We’ve been much better. Which is why I’m mad at myself for using the same words, the same tone. I desperately try to get a hold of my thoughts but my emotions are on overdrive. Inside my head, I scream at myself. I take a few deep breaths and finally manage to stop.

Tears are trickling down my cheeks. I whisper, "You knew what I would say and you’re now mad cause I said it."

He concurs. I guess we both wish I were different. But do people truly ever change?

"Just do whatever you want. It’ll be fine either way." I'm in too much physical pain to go through this.

He knows what that means. He's frustrated, but he's not mad. I know he loves me. No one else would put up with this much. I feel like hugging him. I hate it when he's away.

"I mean it. Go, have fun." To my surprise, I do mean it. I don't have the strength to make a big deal out of it.

He tells me he loves me and we hang up. I start wondering why I don't mind. Did I stop caring about us? Do I love him less? Is it just that the physical pain is overpowering everything else?

Or is it that I've finally begun to really trust him?

Not really. But I wouldn't realize that for another year, which was when I learned that sometimes it's best to cut your losses and let go.

Previously? People I Like

Six wrote me a real nice and interesting email on my post about the blame game. You can read most of it on his post and he has some insightful things to say. One of his greatest points is that blaming others is about not wanting to face yourself. And, of course, he's right.

At one point in our relationship, Jake and I fought a lot. What started as a quibble over where the dishes should go would quickly evolve into a twelve-hour shouting match. Since we'd already been together for quite some time, we knew exactly what to say to get the other party upset. We would sit there, blaming each other for the obvious shaky status of our relationship.

We both figured it was the other person's fault. If only he fixed this and did more of that and less of this other thing, we'd have the best relationship. We knew each other's faults. We knew each other's deepest fears. The weaknesses. We were really good at fighting and even better at making it the other person's fault.

At one point I realized that this game was bound to end ugly. It's funny that we choose partners cause we think they're so amazing and then we spend the rest of our relationship trying to change them. Especially funny considering we have the power to change no one but ourselves. So I told Jake that all he should concentrate on is trying to be the best that he can for our relationship. And that if he only worried about whether he was being his personal best and I worried about being my personal best, our relationship would be much smoother and happier.

I'm not sure whether we grew up, we changed, or whether we just stopped for no reason, but Jake and I have stopped fighting, almost completely. We seem to have fallen in love all over again. We work together now and love each other and support each other. Mostly, we face who we are, accept responsibility for our flaws and try to improve constantly.

I think this is working much better for us.

Previously? I love you.

Three little words that carry tremendous weight. Uttered by some too quickly and by others not quickly enough.

When my ex boyfriend and I had started seeing each other for quite some time, he said, "I've never told any girl that I loved her." He looked proud. I, on the other hand, pitied him and almost said, "I'm so sorry for you." At that point I'd been lucky enough to love two men.

I haven't had that many boyfriends. Jake's my fourth and we've been together for the last six years. My shortest relationship has lasted around two years. So I don't take my relationships lightly. But I have loved each man I've dated. To be honest, in some ways I still do.

I don't believe love ever goes away completely. Loving someone is kind of like giving a piece of your soul or being to someone else. Even if things don't work out between the two of you, the person always carries a special spot in your heart. Their place in my heart is nowhere near what Jake occupies but it's still there. After having shared years of memories with someone, I don't think you can ever have no feelings whatsoever for that person.

I've never worried about saying, "I love you." I didn’t care whether I was the first or the other party had already uttered the words. With the exception of my first boyfriend, which was an exceptional circumstance, I can't even remember which one of us said it out loud first in any of my relationships. I think the hard part is having all the associated feelings, not saying the words.

Loving someone means giving that person a part of who you are. It means trusting them with a piece of your heart. It means taking a risk. And it hurts. But big rewards don't often happen without big risks.

So, if you love someone, I say, "Tell him. Tell her." Don't worry about what she or he thinks. This is not about the other person; it's about you and about how you feel. Love is an incredible feeling and you're lucky to be experiencing it. There is no reason to hide it. I tell Jake that I love him all the time. It doesn't take away from the importance of it. I don't just say it, I mean it.

Each and every single time.

Previously? Letting Go.

No, not the kind a friend whispers in your ear and asks you not to repeat. Actually, I'm pretty good at keeping those.

I've kept a diary since I was eleven years old and until college the little book with its tiny lock was the only one who knew my crushes, my thoughts and my insecurities. My friends would complain that they told me their entire life story and I never shared a word. They were right and I felt bad, especially for my really close friends. But the words refused to come out. During those times, when a friend informed me of her most recent crush she didn't even need to ask me not to repeat it.

I've always believed that people are bad at keeping secrets. Most people inherently feel the need to share. So when they have new information, they bubble with the excitement and will burst unless they do something about it. I used to write it in my diary and poof! It was out of my system.

As I grew older and stopped carrying ten-pound notebooks with a broken lock, I started to open up more and more. I still felt morally uncomfortable sharing other people's secrets, but mine became less important. (As for my needs-to-be-out-of-your-system theory, I, at some point, decided that whatever my friend chose to tell me was between us and deserved utmost respect. If she or he chose to share it with others, it was her or his choice but I refused to repeat it, even if it bubbled up. Hmm, that says so much about the validity of my theory, eh?)

Anyhow going to back to my secrets and my point, I decided opening up wasn’t such a bad idea. Most importantly if I ever did something that was relevant to another person; I became totally unable to hold on to that information. This often applies to my boyfriends (meaning the category in general, not that I currently have more than one), but is not limited to them.

My mother used to tell me that everything doesn’t need to be public. Some things are better not spoken. I disagree. I must, cause I can never follow that advice. I can never hide anything from my boyfriend. Even if I have a crush on some other guy or I'm about to have dinner with an ex. I keep telling myself that it's no big deal and if I tell him, he'll think it is and that I shouldn't tell him and then the moment he walks into the room, I blurt it all out.

The truth is that I think it's a big deal when I choose not to tell him (assuming I'd do such a thing). If I feel the need to keep it from him, I must have a reason. Do I secretly hope something will happen between this guy and me? Am I still hung over the ex? The only reason I'd choose not to share the event with my boyfriend is if I believe I'm doing something wrong. I just think that there is no point in playing games. If either one of us is going to cheat then what's the point of continuing our relationship? Obviously it's lost whatever it had.

This habit has been enhanced by a remarkably understanding man who is my current boyfriend. Honesty has made our relationship solid and lasting.

Now when I feel the urge to lie, I ask myself what that says about my relationship with the other person.

In my case, that there isn't much of a relationship to begin with.

Previously? Nitpicking.

Well, my ex boyfriend was all that and more when it came to little gestures. On one of the Valentine's Days during the time we dated in college, he got three of the kids on his dorm to wear suits and sing to me, on their knees, "You Lost That Loving Feeling." He gave me roses on our anniversary each month, as many roses as the months we'd been dating. When he graduated and got accepted to a graduate school far away, he made a small audio chip in a heart-shaped candy box. Each time I pressed the button, I could hear his voice, telling me how much he loved me and how badly he missed me. It might be corny, but it was also sweet. He was romantic and he remembered every special date.

Sounds lovely, doesn't it?

Until you look at the other side of the coin.

The same guy had an alcohol problem and used to abuse me verbally and physically when he drank. We went to a few Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but it never worked. He had too much anger. He wasn't willing to give up the drinking. It's hard enough to give up when you feel ready. It's impossible when you do it for someone else. For a long time, I made excuses and said that it was my fault for pushing him and making him mad. But we won't talk about that. Not now.

Anyhow, my point is that since I had that experience, I've reconsidered my priorities. Sure it's nice to get flowers on my birthday or for no reason at all, but it's crucial to stay on top of the big things first. Now, when I hear my friends talking about how the guy might not open the door for her or how he didn't get the most romantic present for their anniversary, I hope that they will never have to worry about having real problems.

I know that if you're mostly a reasonable person, while reading this you'll be telling yourself, "Dork, of course I know that it's most important to be with a guy who doesn't abuse you." But how often do you keep that in perspective?

We only get picky when we have the luxury to do so.

Previously? Chicken.

I've decided to bring some Christmas feel to my page. Feel free to let me know what you think.

Yesterday, December 2nd, was my anniversary with Jake. 6 years. We've been together for 6 years. Considering that I've only been in the United States for 8.5 years, that's a really large chunk of my American life.

Jake and I met cause we taught the same class in college. It was a student-taught computer course. I was a junior and he a sophomore. The most distinct memories I have from our first couple of months involve lots of laughter. Laughter and hours and hours of talking. We talked until the wee hours of the morning. About nothing. About everything.

He lived in a very unusual dorm and we spent hours hanging out with his friends. I remember a month during which we constantly played Son of a Preacher Man. Non-stop. Every time one of us entered the dorm room, we'd go "Oh my God! Turn it up, it's my favorite song!" We didn't even turn it off while we slept. We also spent several months playing Lucas Arts games, like Day of the Tentacle and Full Throttle. Most of my favorite college memories are with Jake.

After I graduated and moved to New York, we spent a summer living together and we fought non-stop. But we survived it. He went back to college to finish his senior year and we survived a year of long distance. We then moved back in together and learned to make it work without killing each other. We've even come to a point where we can't imagine having better roommates than each other. Recently, I spent six months in Japan and he stayed here. The long distance was no problem. We spent hours on the phone, talking like the first days of our relationship. Having recently read Zeldman’s story, I smiled at how much it resembled our relationship.

My life with Jake has had ups and downs. But so many more ups. He's taught me what it means to really laugh and he makes me feel loved more than anyone else I've ever been with. Each time he hugs me, I know that I can never let go. Each time I look into his eyes, I fall in love all over again. He makes me want to be a better person. He’s truly my best friend.

Thank you for all those wonderful years, my love. Here's to many more.

Before?

On more weird things about Turkey, on October 22nd they are trying to count the population so they can know how many people live in Istanbul. To do this, the government made it illegal to go out. On that day everyone is required to sit at home so people can come around and count the number of people in your household. Nice eh?

I've been thinking about my ex boyfriends lately. Of my three, I am only conversant with one. Personally, I'd talk with all three but the other two won't talk to me. I used to always believe that if you were ever truly in love with someone you could never get over it enough. Not enough to feel comfortable when you see that person with a new lover. Now that I think about it again, I am not sure I still feel that way. My second boyfriend and I dated ten years ago. I loved him very much and we broke up because I left to come to the United States. It's been ten years or so and he still won't talk to me. I am confidant that if he were dating someone he was madly in love with it would not bother me one bit. Since I am so happy with my current boyfriend and have found happiness, I wish the same for him. And I wish that someone with whom I'd shared so many great memories would still be in my life enough that I could wish him a happy birthday or a merry christmas. Oh well. I spose one can't have it all. Or can she? Is it really the case that exes cannot ever stay friends?

Before?