Defined by Love

I love Jaimie, and surf, and pinball, and Nietzsche, and the West Wing, and Life in Pictures, and Woody Allen, and disc golf, and big dogs, and staying up late, and studying, and not drinking, and days off, and ice cold soda, and Bic Classic Stics, and TJ and Dave, and jailbreaking iPhones, and tech blogs, and good headphones, and God Damn Batman on Twitter, and Anniversary Slayer, and acting, and writing, and improv, and lifting weights, and Netflix, and free shipping, and Trader Joe's ice cream sandwiches, and milkshakes with the tin, and unlimited plans, and good punctuation, and things that make me cry, and Henry, and my Dad, and Reno, and playing in bands, and Mike Tyson's Punch Out, and Rocky I, II, IV, and unlimited skips on Pandora, and waking up without an alarm, and Peter Pan cunchy peanut butter, and good parking spots, and Intelligentsia coffee, and drumming on my chest, and making up songs about monsters, and plays, and yoga, and heavy fucking metal, and freshly washed sheets, and new socks, and American Apparel 25/25/50 shirts, and the Parker Jotter, and the Internet, and Super Nintendo, and Red Mango, and Lito's empanadas, and rough sex, and commuter jeans, and Chrome bags, and Apple products, and spirited debate, and blow jobs, and text messages, and existentialism, and American Psycho (book and movie), and paid vacation, and a close shave with a new razor, and wi-fi, and the Costco protein drinks, and girls with short hair, and big ass titties, and finishing big books, and retweets, and half-off specials, and The Mermen's "Slo Mo HVO," and early outs, and high definition TV, and Reno sunsets, and bravery, and honesty, and the dark part of YouTube, and people who can type faster than I can, and broken Olympic records, and academia, and staying after class with my professor, and blogging, and the way my friend Denise sings, Rage Against the Machine's "Testify" on Rock Band, and the way my friend Jawsh plays guitar, and reverb, and well-built watches, and reading my Mom's text messages aloud, and the sound a record needle makes when it is perfectly seated, and the font Helvetica, and museum free days, and full-screen apps, and software updates, and a well-crafted coffee drink, and customizable keyboard shortcuts, and autosave, and movies with montages, and the smell of rain, and minimalism, and efficiency, and the last five minutes of Obama's 2012 State of the Union speech, and pineapple juice, and rehearsal, and band practice, and touring, and midnight showings, and seamless bus transfers, and lifetime guarantees, and China Diner with friends, and running, and personal bests, and high fives, and writing in the margins, and   Hour of the Wolf's "Power of the Wolf" EP, and the Moss Icon's "It Disappears" LP, and Nirvana's the "Smells Like Teen Spirit" B-side "Even in his Youth", and GPS bus tracking, and CTA heaters, and reading outside the UNR philosophy department in early summer, and bowling with Alex, and Halo with team: We're Upgrading, and plowing through tv shows on DVD, and every second of Breaking Bad, and the fact that my Dad has never lied to me, and that feeling after doing a show, and a solid piece of copy paper, and documentaries, and mix-tapes, and listening to mindless music while working out, and the peach cobbler cupcake from Molly's, and the crazy skateboarder guy in Reno, and playing poker from dinner until breakfast, and fruit snacks, and crab legs, and big-ass steaks, and wing specials, and the iO training program, and Piotr Hoffman, and Dostoyevsky, and Lolita (book), and the perfectionism of Kubrick, and the Star Wars trilogy, and HDMI cables, and a well-calibrated monitor, and   a quiet snow, and morning sex, and bathroom sex, and regular sex, and winning, and a clean apartment, and the way I mistakenly think my car runs better after I've washed it, and single-speed bicycles, and left-over pizza, and Tango Sur, and date nights, and stay-at-home dinners, and picking at my skin, and being gross, and pretending I'm not, and Orphan Thanksgiving, and New Year's tacos, and the pastor tacos from Big Star, and the sound at The Fillmore in SF, and the last three Sonic Youth albums (not including "The Eternal"), and making the trip from Reno to Berkeley with my friends just to go record shopping, and the Reach Access Flosser, and road trips to In & Out Burger, and Improvised Shakespeare, and all the J. Reis and R. Froberg bands, and freshly ground black pepper, and simplicity, and drinking responsibly, and Grub Hub, and sunny days, and the last ten minutes of hot yoga, and free refills, and good fountain Coke, and highlighting books, and pretending I don't love being the little spoon, and being told I don't have any cavities despite doing a crappy job flossing, and protein shakes, and the three-minute window at work - you can clock in three minutes late and out three minutes early; with your lunch break, you can save up to nine minutes a day, that's forty-five minutes a week, three hours a month, or thirty-six hours a year-, and Lockinfo, and BiteSMS, and bands so good I take out my earplugs, and new bass strings, and tube amplifiers, and Airplay, and Handbrake, and Google Maps, and generous tippers, and v-string thongs, and knee high socks, and Sports Night, Studio 60, The Farnsworth Invention, and every single Aaron Sorkin project, and electronics with satisfying knobs, and the way Reno is lit up like a desert lighthouse when you're coming over I-80, and meowing, and the Building Better Buddies challenge 2012, and singing fucking along in my car, and breakfast for dinner, and when Jaimie says, "kitten mittens," and Sixletts, and getting use out of extended warranties, and the Muppets Menomena (which I'm convinced is a commentary on jazz and an oppressive music industry), and tabbed browsing, and OTA updates, and love letters, and sleeping until noon, and chicken wings that give you the under the eye sweat, and unsweetened iced tea, and unadulterated bourbon, and bacon on anything, and hardcore breakdowns, and iOS, and the coefficient of friction on the glass Apple trackpad, and finding a granola bar deep in your backpack when you're starving, and