forgiving

Last evening Y came over. I made dinner and we watched "American Idol." I watch no television except for this show, which I find entirely fascinating. Luckily, the Stepford-like Carrie was utterly mediocre, and I hope she will (finally) get voted off. The thing she does that everyone is impressed with is let out these hideous high notes which she can hold for an long time. But the sound is harsh and ugly, which is something that most people probably miss, if they are not used to really listening; but my musician's finely-honed ears can't ignore the fact that her tone is grating like nails against a chalkboard.

But I could not relax with Y. There was too much undiscussed business lurking. So I started to talk about last week, and how we both hurt each other, and how I can't live without love and that part of love is forgiveness. And I tried to make him understand me better. I don't know if he does, or if I understand him. But no matter what happens from all of this, I have learned more than a few things about myself, and about forgiveness, and about love.