SO, I'm exhausted, but yet am in a ridiculously happy mood, which I would say is inexplicable.  I know better however, that this very explainable - it's because of my impending menstrual cycle, which makes me either terribly depressed and weepy, or this weird happy delirium, often within the space of hours of each other.  Insert concerns of pity for my poor husband now.  I really am distressed by how much the feminine cycle affects my moods and thoughts.  I don't cry much at all the rest of the month, except when pms-ing, and then it's weepy, weepy, weepy, even at a terrible sappy COMMERCIAL!  It's ridiculous and completely not rational, and so cliche!

And then in the middle of the month, I couldn't be more horny, which is my devil-body's hormonal response because it knows I'm ovulating and has a diabolical plan to get me and every other woman knocked up!!  And I'm not just saying this!  It is an observable phenomena, at least in my body, and I've been paying attention and getting increasingly incensed over the fact.  But then, I suppose the men have been blaming animal instinct for years over their better judgment.  Maybe I should be a little kinder to the opposite sex.  Though, nah, who am I kidding, we're the ones who walk around bloated, fat, and with hemorrhoids, topped off with screaming infants and years of servitude.  Who, hormonal, me?

I have recently read two great novels which are both profoundly affecting in thier own way. 

- Of Human Bondage - by W. Somerset Maugham
- Middlemarch - by George Eliot

These two works are certainly very different, separated by about a generation and the gap of Victorianism and Modernism, which is abundantly clear in thier style, and content.  But still, both have very great grasp of the complexity of human motive, and some idea of the nature of happiness and goodness. 

Middlemarch was certainly a bear to get through, but I finished the last hundred pages tonight, and got so caught up in it I was laughing out loud, and even crying at one point.  This was a shock to me as well as anyone, because, while Eliot is certifiably a genius, and this work is one of undeniable genius, it is so dense, it's hard to consume.  There are too many quoteable lines, too many observations - it's fucking genius.  Which didn't make the first 500 pages any easier to get through!  But in the end, where all the seemingly stray threads begin to tie together - along with some actual action - plus the fact of the feeling of payoff as a reader in having gotten to the end, and a very satisfying end at that (not even about the characters, but of the themes).  I could write ten papers on this book and still not exhausted all I have to say about it, especially about it's observations of marriage.

Of Human Bondage was also hard to get into, but had more immediate payoff.  I mean, watching this young man from infancy go through the physical and philosophic journey - basically the whole time he seeks to understand the meaning of life.  And the observations about human  nature are so spot on.  Except when it comes to love, where Maugham seems to think real 'love' can only be of a masachistic nature.  But still, holy crap, the amount of beautiful, amazing phrases and truths that one could just read, and re-read, and paste on your wall and study everyday - it was just thick and gorgeous.  And probably more affecting in the end than Middlemarch, because it had so much to speak to my current situation in life too, as D and I approach our 30's - about the meaningless of life, but our ability to find happiness anyway.

So, I have the most amazing and beautiful husband in the world.  He is so kind, gentle, caring, funny.  It just strikes me all the more in times like this, when I am not feeling my best, and he not only picks up the extra slack on the household chores and child-care that I am too tired to do, but he also is an emotional support to me, letting me cry and holding me, talking things through with me, even in the middle of the night.  Sometimes I don't understand how anyone can be so good. 

I take him for granted, as anyone is wont to do after 7 years of being married, but I am just struck all over again by this human who loves me so much, and who is just so strong.  So strong, he never freaks out or runs away from that hard stuff of life, but gets through it, and not only that, but helps bear me through it too.  I feel guilty for how much he has to put up with and do each day, but he tells me that is silly.  He is SUCH a good father too, he is just this rare, amazing man.  And together we both even find happiness, even in the hard times, happy moments in each day.  His soul is so beautiful that it just overwhelms me how much I love him, and being loved like that in return.