1 March 1999

Excess of Love

Deep in my heart there's a fire a burning heart
Deep in my heart there's desire for a start
I'm dying in emotion
It's my world in fantasy
Living in my, living in my dreams
You're my heart, you're my soul
I keep it shining everywhere I go
You're my heart, you're my soul
I'll be holding you forever
Stay with you together
You're my heart, you're my soul
I'm feeling that our love will grow
You're my heart, you're my soul
That's the only thing I really know

I've been trying to write this piece for several days now ... weeks in fact, but every time I sit down to do it, I either can't find the right words to start with or I cold feet, or something comes up and my train of thought is disturbed.

In the meantime I've already written another bit which still hasn't been uploaded. I've been so busy you see ... so very busy.

Leaving my previous place of employment left me with a very surreal feeling about life in general. Settling in at the new place of employment didn't help much. Though I've been plunged very rapidly into a rapid development schedule (Results required in 2 months for the alpha version of the application, 6 months for the beta. Yikes) and I'm enjoying the work, the strangeness involved with moving on has yet to subside.

This probably has a lot to do with why I'm having such trouble getting a grip on the words I want to use.

So ... what do the syrupy lyrics up there have to do with anything you might wonder? Or why title this "excess of love" what does that have to do with anything?

It's quite simple.

We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?

My appetite, despite the surfeit of it, does not sicken, nor does it die.

However an excess of it, or an excess of need for it plagues my system ... will it bewilder me until I die?

I don't know.

I am too eager, by far to please, yet at the same time too uncompromising in my principles leaving me wanting to do well by others, but hampered in the means.

I love too much too soon and people sense it, sense the eagerness, the need and are put off by it. I see it in their eyes, the way their glance slides off me as if embarrassed or ashamed for me.

Over and over again it hampers me, gets in the way of social interactions, starts me off on the wrong foot, makes me put my foot in my mouth.

I am either too meek and nice or too overbearing and boisterous.

I can never seem to find the happy medium unless I am with a very particular type of people. Generally the ones who are as off-the-beaten path, insecure and and needy as I am.

The clincher though, is that despite how much I feel disadvantaged by it, this excess of feeling, of raging emotion is one of the few things that makes me valuable as a person. I may feel too much and at all the wrong times, but at least it vouches for my sincerity.

And again I lose my train of thought and remember vaguely writing something similar once before.

Perhaps if I find that, it will be far more eloquently written than this.

More Yeats
More Shakespeare