wisdom of love

What is philosophy?
Philo: love
Sophy (Sophia): wisdom
Love of wisdom... <--it is often thought to be true.
Emmanuel Levinas says, no, PHILOSOPHY IS THE WISDOM OF LOVE.

In four days is a 12-15 page paper due. One where I must ask a question based on Levinas' philosophy.
Levinas entire philosophy surrounded by this truth:
I am responsible for the Other.
In four days is also a Mixed Media poetry project due.
In five days: myself and 9 other artists will compete against PNCA and PSU art departments for a Scion car event.
In three days: 40 watercolor paintings.
In two weeks: 5 prints and a presentation.
Next Tuesday: An ethics paper.
Next week: Check out from this apartment (from this semester, from these roommates who have proved a greater blessing than I could have expected or asked for)
And two weeks from tomorrow (monday) I'll sit on a plane that will direct itself to Dublin, Ireland.
meaning that I will again say good bye and good bye and good bye to people so damn dear to me.
I already said good bye to family a few weeks ago in california. And it never proves to become simpler, or easier.

Good bye good bye good bye. Always having to say it. And still I will be okay.
I only ask that you know that I love you
I only ask that in my distance you grasp onto a love that I try to give.
I love ask that you feel my heart for you.
I love you.
I love anyone, or try to at least.
And I love you.
And I cried hard last night. A saturday night. because I am sorry.
I am sorry that I hurt you in times of stress.
I am sorry that I don't always call and seem absent, my family.
I am sorry when I fail you, professors.
I am sorry when I ignore your authoritative call to me.
I am sorry when the stress of life distracts me from loving you.
From loving you as a duty.
From loving you without focus on self.


Last night I was triggered by a tiny event.
A little break, then cracking like vines, spreading like tree branches.

Woe is me. Woe is me. I do not want to act in such a way. I do not want to break into such weakness. I do not want to call for help because I am prideful and broken, yet I also want you here, now.

And I don't know what I want,
but I do know that I eagerly await this summer in a sort of apathy.
I eagerly await a new adventure in a foreign land.

And I know that I am happy (in this moment) in my apartment.
Cyndi (who was once in Spain) is now writing a paper over there on that couch.
I am here "writing a paper" on this couch.
Both of us on this Sunday drinking french press coffee once we realized that my Mbale, Ugandan coffee is out.

And I mostly want you to know that I love you.
Thank you for your love, because I felt it even in the storm that hit last night.
For each of you, I am grateful.
And I beg that you feel my heart hurting and laughing and rejoicing with your sorrows and joys.