I second the name

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Finally today, after a couple weeks of postponing, I was able to go to the bank with my money in hopes of opening a dollar account. I brought with me a 1x1 picture as was required and 2 forms of identification. I brought my driver's license (something I never use because I don't drive) and my passport with a picture of me having a fat lip. The fat lip came because of an allergic reaction I had to using an expired lip balm. I would've cared to peel off the laminate and exchange it with a new picture if only that were legal. Anyway, after partially filling out the form with my name and other such pertinents as permanent address and gender, the lady behind the marble counter top told me her supervisor advised her that I couldn't push through with the application. It seems that on my 2nd name does not appear on my passport, whereas it does on my driver's license. That was the cause of the stir. It's gotten me into a bit of confusion before, but I had never been turned down because of it.
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"Lady, I'm here with my dollars. I am NOT a Chinese smuggler or drug lord. If I were, do you think I'd even be going to this obscure bank with an amount that wouldn't even buy me Gucci loafers." I ended up buying 3 collared tees and a pair of slacks just to make myself feel better. They were on sale and I got 4 50-buck coupons for use on my next purchase! Fair trade.
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Now that I contemplate the events in my peanut butter & oatmeal happy brain, had Edgar Allan Poe not have Allan in his name, he could've been any other writer and The Raven could have been written by some other famous noir writer in a parallel universe. Come to think of it, if I keep writing only my first and last name on every identifying document I have, I would always be plagued by people asking if this so-and-so criminal is my father or uncle.
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It's gettin' old. The joke, not me. ;)
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Memories

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Settling for. I remember not so long ago a close friend of mine disclosed that he thought I was settling for a relationship with anyone, specifically, the one I'm with right now. He said that I complained too much about what the differences I had with my crumpet and that if I'm so unhappy I should move on. I remember also, just the other week, how a close colleague told me that maybe I'm just afraid of being single again and going through my very first break up. I remember also during my conversation with Ninjato that I can't get myself into a relationship looking for another me; a clone of my neurotic self who knows exactly what goes on in my mind and reacts in the same way as I do and would react accordingly to all my needs the moment the mood permits. They may all be correct. Maybe I am settling for any decent partner that comes my way. But I don't think I'm settling. I know the treasure I found and I intend to keep it.
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Settling with. Perhaps it's love. Perhaps it's the high of being in a prolonged emotional experience with another person. Perhaps it's the years of neurosis caused by a perceived parental deficiency. Even if I can be needy and extremely self-conscious sometimes, it doesn't mean I would lose my head over it. I know how much I love my crumpet and I know, a few months ago, that I fell in love. I still am but it is less urgent, less obsessive now. I know there's a difference between love and falling in love, the latter being more fleeting.

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Settling out. Once in a full moon (or more accurately once every week) my lack of sleep, lack of attention, lack of mental stimulation, and a periodic lack of sex make my hormones and proteins act up, which predictably gets me in a whiny mode. And it doesn't help that the future of our relationship rests on the triteness and timeliness of text messages. This I have to settle out. Then again, we've become so acquainted with the constant miscommunication that it's become weird if we don't have one every now and then.
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Settling on. A bigger phone bill. More vacation leaves. Eating on the same side. Holding hands in the movies. Stealing kisses when no one's looking. Writing emails. Texting emoticons. Holding back the longing. There's only room for a mature commitment.
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Settling down. Not in the near future. Not when every week thoughts of breaking up run amock when I'm breaking down. Not when I feel joy and pain in the same yet opposing intensity. Not when I'd settle for memories when I can still create more of them.
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