Relational Ponderings...

I have dearly missed writing in this blog. And yet it's that very absence of such an activity that is part of my conundrum/what's led me to write this post.
I can't seem to escape the feeling lately that a lot of my relationships are somewhat a mess.
The crazy thing is this problem doesn't alarm me nearly as much as it used to. Before, such a revelation would have represented a hopeless mess, something that would probably never be fixed and was therefore an insurmountable trouble to try and conquer.
The cool thing is that Xenos and the belief of having a largely improved relationship with God writes that off as a lie right away. A lie that God will have no problem overturning as long as I continue to let my trust lie in him.
But though it doesn't fill me with dread and despair as it would have a year or so ago, nevertheless it is starting to become quite disconcerting.
By my way of thinking therefore the best way to hash it out is to start pouring words on the page.
To trace the root of the problem, I feel the need to indulge in a trip down memory lane. Luckily that can now be done so at least at a mild skip instead of dragging my feet as though they were heavy blocks of lead.
But I digress.
When I first started to consider myself a truly relational creature (somewhere around high school) it quickly became apparent that with those I loved and trusted, I was an open book. I'm not saying I prided myself on it, it just was. It existed as an undeniable pull that I rarely wanted to resist.
So I didn't.
By the time I was 17 my heart, struggles, faith, and passions had pretty much all been poured out to anyone I thought might have the vaguest interest.
Then the doctor diagnosed me with depression and suddenly what I had considered an essential element of my character became a detriment.
Because people just don't want to deal with a depressed teenager. Not my parents, not my friends, and not my high school sweetheart that I had foolishly wrapped up my entire identity into.
And you know what? I can't blame them one bit. The truth is I was a miserable wreck, and to this day I don't understand how the few friends who did persevere through that black spot in my life loving me unconditionally never showed signs of fatigue or wanting to call it quits. I just thank God they did (thank you Justin, Kari, Claire, and Pi)
It was the first time I had to face the facts that there was an awful lot of ugliness inside of me. Since I was unprepared for such a thought, it took a bit of adjusting to learn how to deal with such a discovery.
Thankfully that was the moment in my life when God chose to make our relationship personal. Both through prayers I cried out at times I felt He was the only one listening, and through the few good friendships that remained in my life that He clearly was using, I began to learn one of the most valuable Christian lessons I would need to make it in my walk with Christ-
We live in a sucky, fallen world full of pain and suffering, and the only one who can fully understand the extent of it and not balk from such a thing is the God of the universe.
I recognize also that I was truly blessed to be pronounced "cured" from my depression only a year later at the age of 18. Though the physical pain and suffering associated with the malady had just started to become a permanent fixture of my life, the emotional and mental despair at least was blissfully lifted with the joy of knowing that God would never let me go back to that dark place again if I trusted Him with the broken pieces of my life.
He as surely put those pieces back together as I am typing this now, and as the days go by I feel more and more whole the more I learn about his character and the power he has to make any situation or circumstances irrelevant. I am more awed and thankful than I can say to learn that my God is both all powerful and all loving, and that He is personal enough to be the only friend that will never let me down.
But that brings us back to friends. More specifically friends, friendships, relationships, etc.
Unfortunately I had several problems at 18 in this area of my life. I didn't know how to relate to my mother other than a constant search for her approval. My middle sister and I were fractious at best, she having an uncanny ability to wound and sting me with spoken barbs, and my attitude towards her being totally self righteous and condescending. And then there was the abusive romantic relationship I had tangled myself up in and was only just now attempting to leave behind. Finally the icing on this already disgusting cake was a whole string of failed female friendships that made me gun shy when it came to girls.
Needless to say that's when I first felt the shields go up.
Suddenly I wasn't quite as eager to pour out my heart and soul to people I felt a connection with. I still did it, but now I was looking to see if the enemy's phasers were being set from stun to kill. I started to suspect something about myself, and that was the conviction that it must only be a matter of time before the next place I got burnt.
What I didn't realize though was it wasn't just that people burnt me, but that it was actually a direct result of me starting to burn them out.
I know now why I did this. I am a slow learner, and though I had learned how to trust God, I had not yet learned to put my identity fully in him. So I tried to make other people my savior, my soul mate, the one who would bear all my burdens and understand all my heartaches. I had to learn the hard way that fallen people in a fallen world simply cannot do this (sorry Mel, Jenni, Amanda, and Kate. I didn't know what I was doing.) So the burning raged on.
The funny thing about fire too is it tends to develop a faster automatic reflex then any other I thing I can think of. We don't want to get burned, so quicker than rational thought we immediaely jerk away from the source of the open flame. It's either that or be scorched right?
The process of automatic pulling away from the blaze had started to become embedded in me.
Luckily God had a way of teaching me this lesson too. He brought the amazing man who would become my husband into my life, the first person ever to love me unconditionally as much as anyone who is human possibly can. My other relationships may have been less than they should have been, but for the first time I was getting at least one fairly right. Enough that I could really and truly expose all my issues to him, and instead of cringing from my baggage, he bore it as best he could and showed me how to come out on the other side and be willing to give the load to God to carry. (Thank you Steve.)
Aside from Steve I only had one other way that I completely expressed my feelings and allowed myself to be truly known. Can you guess? It's pretty frickin' obvious.
It was my writing.
My writings are the very core of who I am. I pour myself into it without hesitation because I can always choose who sees it and therefore minimize my chances of getting burnt as much as I think I need to. The more confident I feel about God having control of my personal relationships, the more eager I am to share my writing with as many people as possible. Once I finally complete the arduous task of self publishing my first novel, my innermost thoughts will (in theory) be available to anyone who chances to find them on Amazon.com or happens to be swayed by my friend Ruby's personal recommendation of me as an author (everyone needs a combination close friend and publicist/you are a blessing Ruby!)
So traveling down this long road, I have come out a married woman with a job I love and sources of confidence I would not have thought possible. God has taught me how to put my trust in Him, and how to continue to be open without fear it will cripple me as it did when I was 17.
But I am a sinful human being, still flawed and still learning. And I'm starting to think God has something else to teach me.
I've noticed lately that the exuberance I once had with my feelings seems somewhat lacking these days. Truthfully I noticed it long before now, but for a quite awhile I've merely considered it as a wise safety measure put in place by the sage wisdom of experience. The scars from the fire wrote that interpretation of things.
Yet now I start to suspect that is dangerously wrong. I am in essence a relational being. This is something I have known about myself for a long time, and no number of burns should change that. To lose my reckless abandon to hug my friends and be free with public and physical demonstrations of my love is to lose something very key about myself. While I agree that allowances should be made for a time and a place, I still find myself in situations where such behavior would be perfectly appropriate holding back, cautioned, and more standoffish. Who is this stranger I've become? My sneaking suspicion is I don't like her very much.
Alas if that were the only symptom, I might be able to write it off as just a result of me over thinking things too much (Me over think things? Never!) But there is the other part of who I am that is conspicuously absent as well.
I used to share my writings with anyone who I thought was even remotely interested. I wrote plays for my friends in which my multiple personalities starred for crying out loud-AS BIRTHDAY PRESENTS! And now I barely update my blog, my narratives have all be ceased to be either written or shared, and I feel utterly uninspired to pen or share my work.
This scares me somewhat. The blast doors are coming down here, but I don't remember triggering them. Which means that they have some automated switch I wasn't aware was installed.
I think part of the answer lies in my past. Having God in my life is no guarantee against becoming jaded. God can only help me if my other faculties of observation, awareness, and analysis point me towards His lessons. But the other part of the answer is yet to be found.
Thus starts the search. And the promise I utter now.
I will devote myself to re-finding and embracing the core of my being. And I will petition God to carry me through this quest as he has done every other.
The thing I love most about my life since devoting it to living for Christ (even if I didn't at first know exactly what that meant) is that contradictions can cease to exist. Exciting and challenging, painful and insightful, or even confusing and illuminating, can mean the same thing without being paradoxical. Both can and do occur at the same time.
I am coming to believe that the journey is the story most worth telling in life and literature.
And the story of the journey can never be explained without the relationships that make that journey worthwhile.
So here's a beginning to what I can only hope will be another great story.

Why Write?

Why Write?
I don't know if the number is thousands or millions, but many many of us do it. And when I say write I don't mean the mundane formalities we all must do from forced school paper writing to bill paying and record keeping. I mean why pour your heart and soul out onto paper? Why transfer the strongest thoughts and emotions in your head and your heart by typing them into 12 point Times New Roman or whatever your preference (I like Georgia myself, bolded) Why do so many of us feel that inescapable pull to pour out raw substance and shape it into prose?
I have found myself compelled to write since middle school. It started simply as something I did because a friend I admire most did it. But it quickly became more than that. By the time I was 14 it was a hobby, something I realized I enjoyed. By the time I was 16 it was a compulsion, almost as important as breathing. I haven't been able to stop since.
I wrote buckets of notes to my friends. I penned "plays" staring my personalities as birthday gifts to them. (first there was 6 of me, I ended with 10 of me) I started then tossed aside several attempts at books. I even wrote in that most escapist and indulgent of all genres-fan fiction.
I butted heads with everyone of my English teachers in high school on what the value was in writing term papers. I was never able to understand the point of writing something my heart wasn't in. Why write if emotions aren't invoked? Words like objective and literary analysis were pounded into my head, and twisted into my own meanings there. I only excelled in the writing assignments I was allowed a scarp of creativity in. I wanted to create, not rehash, and certainly not put words into a dead author's mouth. They weren't there to agree that the teacher's interpretation was the only meaning they had intended, and I knew if I ever became an author I would LOATHE someone doing that to me.
By the time I was 18 I was determined to write a book or die trying. In the meantime I wrote narratives like it was my bread and butter (it was so much better than my true source of income, working retail) Then I blogged obsessively. Finally when I turned 25 I finished a novel. Before I'd even done anything concrete in the way of getting it published, I had already gotten a 3rd through the sequel.
WHY?
Why does such a passion dominate and direct me. Why do I not feel whole until the feelings and thoughts in my head are spilled onto a page. Why can't I stop?
I think it's because writing is a therapy. Who wants to talk to a shrink when you talk to a page, a page that doesn't talk back or give advice, but just listens? And that's the beauty of writing. When I've done and said everything I needed to say, and conveyed every emotion that was bursting to put itself into words, I can share it with anyone I think may benefit from it or no one at all. It's as personal or as private as I want it to be. I derive pleasure, healing, and closure from the act.
When I write, I can dissect any of my thoughts or any of my interests. I can delve into the depths of my faith. I can commentate on politics (my major) I can treasure and dive into memories, dwell in the present blessings that surround me, or rejoice in the unseen possibilities that are my future. The options, reasons, and benefits are limitless.
It's not just me. Many engage in this. What propels them?
What I see in writing is the joy of the journey. You are always trying to get somewhere. When you start there is the unknown. Answers come along the way and truths are established. And by the end you have reached a conclusion, or an equally exciting and new course to pursue (ah the sequel!) We all find our own truths, our own epiphanies, our own delights. The journey described can be a physical one, like Frodo's quest to Mordor in The Lord of the Rings. Or it can be an emotional or mental one (my personal favorite) Often it may be a combination of both.
You can take any event in your life and pull it apart. You can record it exactly from your own perspective, or twist it into something that merely echoes your own experience, and serves as inspiration to exploring if that event had had different consequences and results.
The other beauty in writing is that it means different things to different people. I also loved and devoured books at an early age. And from middle school on I started to see how a piece of writing could mean one thing to one person, and another to the next. Everyone had their own interpretation, their own way in which they connected to that author and the things that author said. Some rejected the messages they saw while others embraced it. Being an author means you can be different things to different people, but if they are looking for something in your writing they will find what they individually need most. Wow.
Some writing on the other hand is best kept to yourself. Some stories only need to be shared and evaluated by you, and never know another reader. Writing is a noble pursuit purely if all it ever does is serve the purpose of knowing yourself better and opening doors in your mind. Sometimes you realize you were wrong about something. Sometimes you realize you were right and how important it was that you were. Sometimes you just find something you couldn't see until you put it into words.
Whatever the reason, writing has its own value. It will never be worthless, never be a waste of time when done to look into your soul and get a better view at everything that lies there; good, bad, and ugly. Writing can inspire, and teach, and correct.
I can think of no better way to know who you really are and what life holds for you than to write and discover what you may never have seen otherwise.
Sometimes its scary as hell. Sometimes you'll make an ass of yourself and wish you never wrote it in the first place. I hate finding out how shallow I can really be.
But you'll have to chop my hands off before I stop writing. Because I also love seeing how much I've really learned about the world around me. Writing is my catharsis, it's what I need, and how I really know what I value and why, and how I learn about love, life, and myself.
Once started, it is incredibly difficult to stop. And the simple joy of the journey is enough reason to begin.
I'll admit it. I'm addicted.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

In Defense of Stephanie Meyer

Okay I'll admit it. I too am addicted to the Twilight books.
I'm not saying they are the most profound things ever written. But they are certainly very entertaining. As an aspiring novelist myself, I can't help but be excited by the level of success a simple Mormon mother has obtained.
And let's face it, Stephanie Meyer's writing reminds all of us girls what it's like to be 18 and passionately in love.
But Stephanie Meyer catches an awful lot of flack and criticism and I'd like to confront a few of the critiques I've heard-
1) Stephanie Meyer uses too many adjectives to make up for weak dialogue.
This seems a stretch to me. It's like they can't find a real solid reason to object to her story, so they threw this one out there. And my response is so what? While it's true that there is real value in writers who can tell a story using their verbs to describe more than adjectives, does it then follow that there is NO value in doing the opposite? Where has this prejudice against the noble adjective come from?
Okay I'm biased. I LOVE adjectives. I think they are fantastic wonderful lovely ways to describe the picture you're trying to paint. I am an adjective abuser in my own writing, so I am definitely biased the other way on this issue. But that's the joy of having a thesaurus-getting to use all those different words to say the same thing! I love it! I say bring on the adjectives! The more splendid descriptors a devoted author can provide, the more enchantingly I am entertained =)
As to her dialogue being weak, holy crap what are your standards? She's writing conversations mostly had by teenagers! It's not supposed to be the stuff of legend.
2) Stephanie Meyer writes her main character, Bella, as a weak woman who can't survive without a man
WARNING, SPOILERS AHEAD.
This just makes me laugh. I can only assume they are drawing this conclusion from Book 2 where Bella falls apart at Edward's departure and only is able to pull herself back together with the love and devotion of Jacob Black. I don't think Stephanie Meyer is trying to say Bella can't survive without a man. I think a deeper message is being put across. In describing Bella's complete and total breakdown once Edward leaves, she is showing how Bella cannot survive without love.
Can any of us?
I assure you once you know a love like Bella and Edward's in your life, living without even a poor substitute for it is nearly impossible.
3) Bella is not very well developed as a woman/doesn't have a strong enough sense of herself/etc.
The hard core feminists are really over analyzing here. But they seem to have forgotten one thing-
Bella is a teenager!
How much are we supposed to expect out of a 17-18 year old girl? She's somehow already supposed to have a completely clear vision of herself and be fully developed in self confidence and self sufficiency?
I am 25 years old and I sure as heck haven't arrived at that point yet.
In fact, judged from the lens of a teenager, Bella is pretty daggone mature for her age in a lot of ways. Even when she is ripped up inside, she is always thinking about others and how her actions will affect them. She moves to Forks in the first place so her mother can have more freedom to enjoy her own life. Having barely survived a vicious attack from a vampire, her last conscious thought before she blacks out from the pain is for Alice, Edward's sister, to know the truth about where she came from. When her world falls apart and Edward leaves her, she still puts up an elaborate charade so her father will not have to share in her grief.
Pretty impressive for a teenage girl if you ask me. But don't expect the world from a girl who hasn't even had a chance to fully mature yet. She can only do so much.
Look the point is I like the Twilight books. They're fun, they're entertaining, and I can't put them down whenever I get to the end of each one.
If you're looking for more than that from a book, why are you wasting your time on a teenage romance novel?
Go read Catcher in the Rye and leave Bella and Stephanie Meyer the hell alone.

The Cult Mentality

I've been spending a lot of time lately with a college age group from the Xenos Church, and I have really learned a lot from them about what true followers of Jesus' words behave and act like. My time spent with them has particularly got me stuck on a train of thought that I've visited many times before.
After attending their Thursday service last week, one of the girls and I got to joking around about cults and talking about how the church wasn't what I expected. In all honesty I was surprised to discover it's a label that's been given to the Xenos Church. Having grown up in the Mormon Church, another branch of Christianity commonly labeled as a cult, I was readily able to sympathize with her on the unfortunate misconception of her church.
Why do we as Christians so often categorize what we consider is truly Christian in such a narrow definition? Why do so many only consider a person or church Christian if it meets an exclusive laundry list of requirements, or follow a precise list of rules, many of which often don't even appear anywhere in the Bible?
I have been guilty of it myself of course, and I understand how tempting it is merely to define yourself by what you are NOT-in reference only to the "other."
But it still puzzles me.
In a world so full of hurts and in need of healing, why do we work so hard to estrange ourselves from each other and make the actual count of who is a Christian so small? Faith in Christ as our Savior should be enough to bring us together, and unite us as a force of love and healing. We could do so much more good in this world if we focused just on that one point and worried less about the details.
Now I don't profess to be a Bible scholar, and I have certainly heard some of the rationale behind stricter requirements than I myself hold backed up with certain verses in the Bible. I realize it all comes down to a matter of interpretation.
But the thing that bothers me about it so much is that whenever we as Christians claim our interpretation of our faith is the truest and best and the only one, we start sounding pretty hypocritical. There was a group of people in the Bible who were fanatical about rules and thought they were the only ones who had the correct ideas about faith. They were called the Pharisees. Jesus rebukes them more than anyone else. The Pharisees got so caught up in the letter of the law, that they no longer practiced the spirit of the law. They looked down on everyone and were condescending instead of helpful, empathetic, or loving.
This is the trap I think it is all too easy for Christians to fall into. We become obsessed with following a set of ideas and fall into the "Holier than thou" mindset. Pretty soon it's very easy to condemn.
Yet Jesus told us to love everyone (even our enemies). He told us that only God had the authority to judge others, and He told us not to worry about the speck in our neighbor's eye while we ignored the beam in our own.
So I guess that's where I'm coming from. I think as Christians we should be much more focused on the beam we all have in our own eyes (in my case I think some days it's a whole redwood tree in there...)
I've been told Mormon's aren't Christian because they have extra scripture, extra rules, and extra beliefs that aren't in the Bible. But I think the true definition of being a Christian is believing Christ is your personal savior who died for your sins. I learned that in the Mormon Church and that's where I got my testimony of Christ. I think a lot of Christians feel I need to be "born again" cause I grew up in the Mormon Church. But I've examined my own life pretty thoroughly and even as my personal walk with Christ led me away from the Mormon Church, I never stopped believing Christ was my savior. I got that from the Mormon Church. So I don't think that's a cult, and I'm not worried for my family's soul. My parents taught me Christ was my personal savior, the Mormon church affirmed it for me, and I am proud to see that fact shining out from my own sisters. It doesn't keep me up at nights wondering if they're saved because I know what they believe, and that one belief in my mind is the most important one in the Christian mentality. That's not my definition of a cult.
I really don't understand how the Xenos Church got the label of a cult. I think it's because they are so frequently engaged in the church (active members have church groups and activities they go to at least 5 times a week) Not sure why that is such a bad thing. The members I know still do things outside of the church and I don't ever get the impression they've sealed themselves off in a bubble. I believe they have a great gift for interacting with everyone they come in contact with, and they seem to live very busy and fulfilling lives.
I'll be honest. When I started going to the Xenos home church, what I saw wasn't a cult. It was a group of people who were so dedicated to Christ and what we Christians call the "good news" (Christ died for your sins, loves you, and is the path to salvation) that they had managed to engage college age kids, one of the demographics most rapidly losing their faith, to grow into the state of believers who get together and care for each other on a very regular basis. They also immerse themselves in the Bible and know it a lot better than I do. And these are people who work very hard to practice what they preach. I find their dedication to their faith, the Word, and each other very admirable. Jesus said that by your fruits you will know them (them being followers of Christ) I see an awful lot of good fruit produced by the Xenos members I know and I find myself wanting to be more like that.
Of course I also saw what a lot of other Christians who have objections against them see. Kids smoke, drink, and sometimes swear. Maybe that is where the cult label comes in? I remember hearing Xenos was a cult long before I ever really even knew anyone who went to the church, and the reason given was that "they let the kids do whatever they want." But that's not what I see when I am with them. What I see is a group of young people with the mentality of "I'm not perfect and have things I struggle with. But instead of waiting until I get my life cleaned up and am doing everything perfect, I'm going to come to Christ now, as is, and worry about the details second. Because accepting Christ is more important than whatever little things are wrong in my life."
See to be in the Xenos Church you don't have to try and convince everyone you are perfect or follow a set of rules. It does matter if you're a smoker or a liberal, or gay (or even a former Mormon.) You only have to show a willingness to turn your life over to a God you believe can do anything. The mentality is Jesus first, everything else in life second. And what is truly wonderful about that is the realization that if you put God first, everything else will fall into place.
I'm not saying they are better than everyone, or that this is the one true philosophy. All I'm saying is I find this personally very inspiring, and particularly helpful to a former Mormon who is on her own personal journey of faith, who is more liberal than what is popularly viewed as the average Christian, and is doing the best she can to live Christ's commands to not judge others, always forgive, care for the poor, and love everyone.
As I continue my search to define what I believe as a Christian I have solidified an awful lot of those beliefs and ideals by being with the Xenos kids.
Yes I'm still a hypocrite and I still have a lot to learn. But I feel like I'm in very good company at the moment.

Things I've Gained from my Ex-Boyfriends

It occurred to me recently that usually when women talk about their ex-boyfriends, they do so with a note of anger in their voice, and a list of gripes a mile long. While I'm not saying I haven't ever engaged in such behavior before (no one's perfect) I thought since I'm an adult and these boys I dated are all grown-up so to speak (one's going for his law degree, one's just gotten married to his high school sweetheart, and one's a daddy now) it might be nice to take a moment for a positive reflection. After all, I believe God brings people into our lives for opportunities to teach us and help us grow, and if I think about it, there are a lot of positives.
-What I've Gained-
1) An expansion of my taste in music. I now have a love for Billy Joel, Billy Idol, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, DC Talk, and Aeorosmith; not to mention the whole genres of punk rock and ska.
2) The ability to discover what I want from life, the wisdom to see when I am just spinning my wheels and need to progress, and the strength to remove myself from bad situations and not let them stand in the way of my dreams.
3) The importance of faith, the realization that I needed to find a church that was right for me to grow in my walk with Christ, and the knowledge of what losing your faith can do to a person.
4) The example of what true devotion, friendship, and love look like.
5) The sadness of loss, the conflict of family, and the pain that holding on to old grudges and hurts will cause.
6) Not to let friends set me up, not to let friends be in my relationship to the point of trying to control it, and not to let co-workers tell me who I should or shouldn't be with.
7) The power of loving when someone doesn't feel the same, the power of loving when it's hardest, and the power of loving someone in spite of themselves.
8) Laughter, the beginning of dreams, and the ending of childhood to move on the adulthood.
9) Bitter sweet relationships, bitter sweet situations, and bitter sweet friendships.
10) Learning when to let go, when to give up, and when to move on.

I've watched them all grow up and each one gave me a little piece that helped me become who I am. And they helped me grow up whether they knew it or not, and taught me life lessons.
So I am grateful to you for what you taught and showed me. And I am delighted to see you all set on paths of growth, happiness, and improvement of your own. So here's to you. You know who you are.
And thanks in part to you, so do I.

Where I've Come from and Where I'm At

Today is a day of reflection. It's amazing the difference 9 years can make (10 sounds better but 9 is a more accurate count for the following statements)
Nine years ago I had just started dating my first serious boyfriend. Now he is married to his true high school sweetheart. I am married to an amazing man I didn't meet until college.
Nine years ago I was in high school and everything was a life or death matter. Now almost everything that mattered then doesn't matter at all. Back then I had a whole group of friends who were practically an extended family. Some of them I've kept close to me (Justin, Claire, Kim, Kari) others have drifted or violently separated from me. Sometimes I wonder how many of them ever even think about me. I used to mean so much to them. Now does it even matter I exist?
Back then I wrote silly little "plays" with characters who I joked were my multiple personalities. Now I'm almost finished with my first book, and thinking seriously about publication and other similar dreams. I had those same literary dreams back when I was 16, but now I feel like I might have the means to achieve some of them.
I guess 9 years is a long time and a lot of things are supposed to change. But sometimes it feels like these days were not that long ago. And yet in maturity and experience I feel miles away.
Then again I used to be afraid of change. Now I've at least learned when to embrace it.
And with all I feel and think I've learned I know there's still so much left for me to discover.

A 10 Year Milestone in the Making

I know it has been inexcusably long since I last posted on here. Though I am happy to say that perhaps I do have a somewhat decent excuse.
I have just finished writing a book. A goal I set for myself almost ten years ago as a 16 year old girl, has finally been met today.
I don't know if I can get it published, or even if I can it will amount to something. But it has already touched the life of just one woman, my dear friend Ruby Roman, and that is the main thing I wanted to be happy.
More to come soon, but I must take this blessed moment to celebrate, whatever else may come after.

The Abortion Debate

This is a little too controversial for my Facebook notes so I'm putting it here.
A recent study shows that women are just as likely to get an abortion in countries where it is illegal vs countries where it is legal. See for yourself-
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/sns-ap-global-abortion,1,6948483.story?ctrack=1&cset=true
I post this because it backs up the view I've always maintained about the abortion problem-I don't want women to get abortions, but I feel what's most important is saving as many lives as possible, and if women must do it that they are able to do it in a safe way that doesn't risk their lives as well.
This also backs up my strongest held belief on abortion, that the real fight shouldn't be over whether it should be legal or not, because that will not affect real change, but that those engaged in the battle should put down their arms and come together on common goals that will significantly reduce the number of abortions i.e. supporting adoption, programs for poor mothers that provide them with resources that enable them to not feel like they have to choose abortion, and general education for women so they know all their options before making such a decision.
I just think more could be done if we take this tack. I understand the feelings on both sides, but I think this article helps prove that fighting over whether abortion should be legal or not is a really futile part of the abortion debate.
So say what you will about me but I still take the old Clinton view-that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare.

Mr Bingley vs. Mr Darcy

True Jane Austen fans everywhere may jump on me for saying this, but I have a confession to make.
When it comes to which male hero I admire most, it isn't Mr Darcy.
It's Mr Bingley.
Of course I understand all the charms involved with the character of Mr Darcy. He embodies many qualities that drive women wild. The broodiness, the sulking in corners, and the erotic way in which HE changes for HIS woman. I know why women love Mr Darcy-I've fallen prey to that mentality many times before (if you don't believe me see my post on bad boys) I understand what is so seductive about a Mr Darcy.
But from the very first time I ever read Pride and Prejudice it was Mr. Bingley, and not Mr Darcy, that won my heart.
The most obvious reason for this of course is that when I fell most deeply in love it was with a Mr Bingley. I married a Mr Bingley.
What can I say? I find the qualities of being openly warm, kind to everyone, and an excellent conversationalist prizes above anything Mr Darcy may have to boast of. Add that to the fact that he loves to dance, he won't stand for his friends not having a good time at a ball, and he's extremely generous, and you've got one heck of a dream man. Just ignore the bratty sisters and bore of a brother in law and he's near perfect. (Besides with the exception of Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy's relatives are nothing to write home about either.)
There are other reasons for this too though. I mean let's face it. I'm way too insecure to ever feel confident that a man who slighted me in our first several meetings could ever truly love me and would always be faithful to me. Mr Darcy is the type of man that would always make me wonder if I really had his affection. After all if he so easily changed for Elizabeth, couldn't he easily change back if he got bored of her? (Of course I know Lizzy is too fascinating for Darcy to ever get bored of her but bear with me here.)
With Mr Bingley what you see is what you get. So he doesn't change much throughout the book. And he's a little ADD. But aside from Jane, he's probably the most genuinely honest and kind person in the story. And when the object of his love is before his eyes he's animated, enthusiastic, and can't do enough for her (remember when Jane was sick?)
I know that this may alienate me from my mother (who is a Colin Firth Darcy woman tried and true) and the rest of the women in the real world, not to mention Bridget Jones and all her friends. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I find it more attractive when a man is open and honest from the get go. And my lack of self confidence necessitates knowing that the man likes me right away and has never wavered in that position.
So the good news girls is that you've got less competition for Mr Darcy. You can have him.
I want Mr Bingley.

Election Thoughts

The election still seems forever away (and I can hardly believe the time to finally be rid of Bush will come very quickly) but obviously election preparation is already in full swing. Massive fund raisers and debates are occurring left and right before we've even got into the YEAR of the election. I'm guessing it's mostly a result of the fact that this is one of those elections where both candidates will be entirely new and not linked to the previous administration, but it's pretty crazy all the same.
And as I've talked with people on both ends of the political spectrum (as I love to do) I've discovered a whole wealth of interesting (and somewhat crazy opinions)
I had the frustration of talking to a Republican over dinner one night who I knew to be very educated (which was why I was willing to broach the subject of politics in the first place) only to be amazed as instead of giving any reasons for his personal political opinions by citing policy decisions or substantive political action, he fell back upon stereotype after stereotype about Bill and Hillary Clinton. He claimed Hillary would sell the country to China if elected, but would not explain what even made him think that (which, side note, is particularly amusing because as far as I understand things George W. Bush has technically already sold the country to China since he blew the surplus Clinton left and was so desperate to raise some money once he got ridiculously in the red that he sold most of our debt off to China in the form of T-bills) He also stated if Hillary was elected president there would no longer be any Constitution (in a tone as if everyone at the table understood exactly why that would be), but felt no need to back up a radical statement like that with any kind of facts, numbers, or incidents.
I don't believe that any president could ever get rid of the Constitution. A few, like our dear W, can seriously bend it and infringe a bit upon our civil liberties, but if someone were ever to come anywhere near having that as part of their platform, most of the voting electorate (there's always a few nut jobs out there) would NEVER even take them seriously.
Additionally this man compared the Civil War to the one in Iraq, but when I said I believed the difference was that in the Civil War we were fighting for a truly noble cause (among other things)-i.e. the abolition of slavery-and that I believed no one knew WHY we were fighting in Iraq, again he didn't have an answer.
Speaking of not having answers I also couldn't get him to tell me (nor any Republican I've met yet) why if Osama Bin Laden (who has NO link to Iraq) was the one who was responsible for the planes hitting the World Trade Center Towers which started the whole War on Terror in the first place, we were in Iraq and not still going after him, while Bin Laden continues to build up his base and strength again in Afghanistan. I know some people would reply that Al Qaeda is also in Iraq, but a recent U.S. Intelligence report has shown it wasn't there until after we invaded the country. In other words, it was able to form a base and strong presence there as a result of our actions.
He also said the word "liberals" (referring to most of the people he works with) like it was a dirty word.
What's wrong with us if people who are intelligent can't even carry on a conversation about politics without explaining why they feel the way they do or resorting to cheap partisan spite tactics. I'm tired of participating in political discourse where while I use the facts I know to support my side, the other side falls back on stereotypes and generalizations that they can't back up with any statistical evidence or news reports, while they talk about the other side in a disgusted and unbelieving voice. This is cheap, it is paltry, and it is unworthy of a true political debate or discussion.
I understand there are people on both sides who believe what they believe out of ignorance. They don't know much about politics and they've chosen a side to cling to that they back up with their own feelings and paranoia. I used to be like that and so were others I knew. But after we got an education, after we paid attention to the news and learned real facts and statistics about politics, we used those items to back up our new and improved views, whatever they may be. I'm not upset with people whose opinions have nothing to back them up if they are truly ignorant. Heck it's hard to care about politics as messed up as it is. I only hope eventually those people will have the opportunity to learn more and re-examine their beliefs based on what they've learned.
No the thing that gets me are people who have the education, have done the reading, hear the news, and still twist reality to reflect what they want to believe about it. They could easily marshal facts behind them but instead they're lazy and just use generalities and things commonly repeated by partisan parrots like Coulter and O'Reiley and Howard Stern to back up why they believe what they believe.
This needs to stop. Jon Stewart has made this plea before and that's coming from a comedian.
Intelligent people need to engage in intelligent discourse and back up their opinions with evidential material, not anecdotal types. Do you know most of the accusations thrown at Al Gore during his presidential campaign weren't true? He never said he created the internet (he merely said he was responsible for fronting the legislation to create it, which he was) he never claimed credit for Love Canal or that he and his wife were the main characters in "Love Story" (he admitted he was the inspiration for the male lead character, but said a paper had inaccurately claimed his wife was the inspiration as the female lead character. And he was in fact friends with the writer who has collaborated what Al said). Yet people repeat things like this over and over without even considering that it might not be true.
So to everyone out there who likes to talk about politics and has the benefit of an education and the ability to look things up to see if they're true or not, I'd like to make this plea. Elevate our public discourse. Don't parrot lies and false stories. Check your facts. That way we can all carry on a truly educated discussion, and not one based on paranoia and false stories. We have a responsibility as educated Americans to get these things right.
I make this request not as a staunch Republican or Democrat, but as an Independent who believes some issues shouldn't be politicized at all. Admittedly, I have my leanings as do most Independents (and I cannot deny that those tend to be liberal at least economically) At the moment I am a registered Democrat because (although the party has it's own problems) you have to be registered to vote in the primaries and at the moment I trust the Democratic party more than I do the Republican party. But I don't believe this might never change. Bill Clinton did a terrible thing when he had his affair, but I defend his presidency based on the simple facts that during his time in office the number of abortions went down, the number of adoptions went up, violent crime went down, we had the largest surplus we'd ever had, we had excellent diplomatic relations around the world, we did not loose an unacceptable number of troops to any mindless and goalless wars, and the economy was in excellent shape when he left office. I also defend Richard Nixon's presidency, though I admit he was involved in some shady dealings with Vietnam and his re-election, and his character can certainly be questioned (though he at least had the decency to resign when caught), but who it cannot be denied brought about some great things such as the EPA, world wide diplomacy that was unparalleled before his time, and the eventual end to the Vietnam War. I also don't believe in defending a president just because he is the same party as you. I am not a strong Republican but if I was I still would not defend Ronald Reagan, who's unacceptable support of authoritarian dictators who were often just as cruel as those under socialist governments (including putting into power Saddam Hussein because he was so afraid of the Ayatollah Khomeini's Islamic rule;why did Bush never blame Reagan when talking about the horrible danger Saddam had become?), and who's personal paranoia of communism was forced upon the nation and helped spread it farther world wide, gripping hold of people to make them live in fear of countries like Russia, China, and Cuba, and who's Reaganomics it is highly debatable actually improved the economic status of our country. I also think it is unacceptable to defend someone who has had as terrible a presidency as George W. Bush, who by comparison makes Regan look like not so bad a president at least. Under the Bush presidency we have obtained the highest teen pregnancy rate in the world due to abstinence only education, poverty has sky rocketed, civil liberties are being overlooked in the name of hunting down terrorists, several million children (who cannot be responsible for being poor) are without proper health care, the response to Hurricane Katrina was inexcusably slow and a result of a disastrous refusal in the first place to strengthen the levies before it was too late, we have lost the respect of the international community, and we have lost absolutely unacceptable thousands of American and Iraqi troops and Iraqi non combatants in a war with no clear goal or purpose. Party supporters should never defend a clearly bad president just because he is a member of your party. Inexcusable is inexcusable be it Democrat, Republican, or Independent. Extreme abuse of power is not respective of party and it is always wrong. Every politician will always have some character flaw-politics is a dirty game-but there are always boundaries and always limits where the American people should admit behavior is no longer acceptable.
I am an American. As such I believe in the values of diplomacy, that working 40 hours a week or more should make it possible for you to live comfortably, that millions of Americans in poverty is unacceptable, and that war should only be resorted to if necessary and for a good and clear cause. I admire people like John Edwards, Bobby Kennedy, and Barrack Obama, but I also admire people like Colin Powel, and I admire the work Mitt Romney did in Massachusetts when he was governor and before he began to run for president. Heck, I even think the first President Bush didn't do that bad of a job. He had the guts to raise taxes when he knew it was necessary (proving fiscal responsibility is a part of the Republican Party platform that should be respected even if it goes against a campaign promise) and he managed to get in and out of Iraq without getting bogged down in the "quagmire" that a very different Dick Cheney had warned against. Republicans and Democrats should hold their leaders accountable to their party's values and to the citizens they govern. Personal responsibility should apply everywhere to everyone, especially people like George W. Bush who preach it for others but ignore it for themselves and their fellow party members.
The time for partisan spite is over. The time to come together as Americans and agree upon common values has arrived. We need to put aside arguing for arguing's sake and focus on getting things done. We need to ignore the parroted lies of partisan hate mongers like Sean Hannity and focus on what we believe this country is all about and what it should do to give equality to its citizens and to help the world.
I am also a Christian. As such I believe in the values of mercy, helping the poor, true justice regardless of class, and loving our fellow man. I also believe these values transcend my religion and are shared with Muslims, Mormons, Catholics, Hindus, Humanists, and others. The time for exclusion and looking at the world as black and white needs to be done away with. We need to love and heal and help.
I think that's what this country is truly all about. Not power plays and acting like the big kid on the block. Not ignoring the cries of the poor in our own country and across the seas. But kindness and the desire to make the world united and strong.
Jesus commanded us to love everyone, and I plan on doing that as best I can.

Hatred

I've needed to write about this for a long time but I haven't had the courage. I think today's the day though because I can't keep it churning inside me for too much longer.
The subject is hatred, something I've thought long and hard about. There's a lot of different types of hatred I could talk about. The twisted kind that politics brews, the fanatical type that religions like extremist Islam create. But the kind I want to talk about is personal and entirely way too close to home for me. I don't even know if it's right to write this but I have to get it off my chest.
I've only ever hated two people in my life so far. I try to avoid it because ever since I was young I've believed that hatred is a dark feeling that poisons you the longer you carry it around with yourself. I dated a man who I loved very much that was a living testament to this. He carried around a hatred of his father who left him and his ex-fiancee who manipulated him and lied about aborting their child, and I saw personally how it destroyed his life. It had consumed him to the point where it affected the relationships he was in and his ability to be happy. I never wanted that to happen to me.
But twice I've fallen into the abyss of hatred and had to slog my way back out. Both times I was blessed with the foresight of my husband who was able to see it for what it was, make me realize what it was doing to me, and help me through prayer and love to overcome it. But the fact remains that I've given way to this dangerous emotion twice and it was a long hard road to triumph over it both times.
The first man I hated never should have gotten to me in the way he did. It wasn't just what my ex-boyfriend did to me that created these feelings-its usually much easier for me to forgive what people have done to me personally than what they've done to those I love-but my own inability to see what he was doing to me and stand up for myself before it was too late. In hating him I most likely was really hating myself because I had let him do what he did to me and make me feel the way I did. My ex-boyfriend didn't deserve for me to hate him. We were dumb kids when we dated and the mistakes that were made weren't just his fault, they were mine as well. What was done was partially due to inexperience in knowing what to do in a relationship and partially because of my desperate need for validation and habit to submitting to relationships/friendships with people where I became willing to take abuse. Still, 3 years after the relationship had ended and I had just gotten married, I realized that through years of built up resentment I had come to hate a person that didn't even know what he was doing to me at the time.
Luckily I got through that. It took a lot of love from Steve and several earnest prayers to the Lord, but the end result was that I pulled myself out of that dangerous trap and managed to let bygones be bygones as I should. He even apologized to me shortly after we broken up for how awful our relationship had become, something that he really didn't have to do, but still meant a lot to me that he did. Hating him was silly and unnecessary. I regret that I let it all come to that in the first place.
But the matter of the other man I hated is more serious. I'm not saying it excuses how I felt, but the person involved is far more culpable because he's never shown any sign of guilt for his actions. I wasn't sure I even wanted to tell this story, but for the sake of how long it's weighed on me, I think I have to get it off my chest.
This man and I were very close. He was the husband of a very dear friend. Steve and I spent a lot of time with this couple and loved being with them. Sometimes the man and I even met for lunch-something our spouses were aware of and okay with-when I was in between classes at school. If you had asked me if this man loved his wife, I would have been the person to most loudly and wholeheartedly defend him in that. After all, Steve and I had seen evidence of his affection for her every day. He was constantly displaying his love for her, both in physical ways and by doing things like planning surprises for her. Admittedly they were different in a lot of ways, but we thought they were a perfect couple. You could just always see by how they acted around each other how much they were in love.
Right before Steve and I got married-and I might add that many more happy times were expected between us all once Steve and I became a married couple as well-this man convinced his wife to try and have a child with him. His wife was hesitant at first because she had never been in a hurry to have children. But he was so insistent and she loved him so much that she threw herself completely into the plan. Steve and I even helped them consider baby names.
Shortly after that, a female friend of this man who was pregnant and had nowhere to go turned to him for help. This man convinced his wife, hesitant though she was, to take the friend in until she had given birth.
Can you imagine my shock when reading an e-mail from my friend on my honeymoon, I discovered that this man had cheated on his beloved wife with the pregnant friend who was staying with them? It was something I had never believed possible. A friend of mine had even suspected it, but I had defended this man against her accusations, saying it was impossible that he would ever hurt his wife in such a way, declaring him to be one of the truest and most loyal men I knew.
But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst part was that this man's wife had become pregnant with his child. She found out about the baby right before she found out about the affair, and was so desperate to raise his child with him that she told him she would work through this problem and have his baby if he would leave the friend and try to make their marriage work.
And this man told her no. He left with the other woman to raise her child and not his own, and left his wife pregnant and heartbroken.
So his wife had an abortion. She had no one to raise the baby with and she didn't want to do it without him.
I can't ever blame his wife for what she did. I can't even imagine what her grief was like having to make a decision like that. She told me that right before she went to get the abortion, she called him and offered to make things work one more time and told him what she planned to do if he said no. He turned her down again.
For the next year, possibly more, my husband and spent our time trying to help, love, and console this man's wife. She became one of my dearest friends. Through her pain the one blessing that came out of it was a solid friendship.
Meanwhile during separation proceedings, this man lied to his lawyer and falsely accused his wife of stealing money from him. He lied to our mutual friends and told them his wife hadn't told him she was going to get the abortion. He said that he'd found out about it only through a credit card statement. Instead of admitting he'd done something terrible to this woman, instead of offering her any kind of apology, let alone the monetary compensation she at least was due for his betrayal, he lied to everyone and ended up getting out of the separation scott free, with no money paid to his ex-wife. He was free to go on and live the life he had chosen with his mistress without any financial repercussions and any sign of regret.
This man has never given any form of an apology to his ex-wife. He has never even acted like he did anything wrong. He has lied about his marriage and done everything he could to save face. I asked him why he did what he did and he told me it just happened. That was it. Having sex with a woman who wasn't his wife was merely an accident.
I had been so close to the two of them. We had shared dreams and plans for things to do together as couples. And then, contrary to everything I thought I knew about this man, he did what I have just described.
I don't know how many tears I've cried over the situation. It hurt me worse than any personal betrayal done to myself ever has. I have bled for his ex-wife and mourned the friendship that was lost because of his decision.
And I have hated him with a passion that scared me.
I am happy to say that again my husband came to my soul's rescue and I was able to work through this dark part of my life as well. I have settled things with God and gotten rid of the horrible feelings I have towards him. I can honestly say now that I wish him well and I hope he has a happy life.
But I can never be comfortable around this man ever again. It's not merely what he did, but the fact that he acted like nothing had happened. He was able to pretend that the grief he caused meant absolutely nothing. He chose to raise a child that wasn't his own, and leave his wife with a child that was. He chose a mistress over his wife. I can never be comfortable around someone like that. It's not merely how horrible the situation was, though that was quite traumatic. But it is the fact that he has never expressed any regret or made any apology to the woman he made everyone believe he so ardently loved before he left her for someone else.
Some may judge me for this decision. They may say I hold a grudge. But I can testify that I have worked through my hatred for him with so many tears and an open heart to the Lord. I don't hate him anymore. I don't wish any evil on him. To be fair to him he has stood by the woman he left his wife for. They are now married and have a child of their own. I know he is a kind person in many respects. He has recently befriended one of my closest friends and his wife, and I know these people think the world of him. As much as all this pains me that is the facts of the matter.
But I can never be comfortable around someone who cannot acknowledge his own wickedness when that wickedness hurts someone he professes to love and who I love dearly. I don't know how I could ever trust him again.
If this is a fault in my character then I confess I am guilty. But that is how I feel.
My friends will tell you I am far too trusting. I have allowed myself to be hurt again and again because I always endeavor to believe the best about people.
But this is one situation where I cannot change how I feel. I have forgiven this man. But it is absolutely impossible for me to ever trust him again, and ever be comfortable around him again.
Judge me how you will.

Over Relate Much?

Is it all writers who put way too much of themselves and people they know into their characters, or is it just me?
I'm currently working on my novel about Roxy, one of my ten personalities. It's a story I've had in my head ever since high school and have been trying to get out for just as long, and it's finally coming together. Yet I find as I write it that I have way too much of myself, my friends, and my life in it.
After one of my creative bouts where I managed to write about 40 pages, I realized when I was done that not only had I over identified with Roxy way too much, I had inserted into my story a parallel of a relationship that I went through in high school. In looking at the concept of whether being given everything you materially desire is enough of a reason to love someone, I was revisiting my first serious relationship, and thoughts I hadn't reexamined since I was 16. I found myself hurting for Roxy as though she were real, and knowing exactly what she was feeling in dealing with someone who she loved but wasn't sure how. (She is of course real to me but not in a tangible "she's an actual physical person" way.)
Before long I was listening to songs from Moulin Rouge over and over again and thinking constantly about the depth of my main character and where her heart really lies. "Le Tango de Roxanne" made me desperate to write every time I heard it because it seemed to me as though it was a cry from the man in my story who was fighting the hardest for Roxy's affections.
And then there's the fact that Pansy has taken on so many characteristics of my friend Claire. And that my friend Brian, who I had long lost contact with, was almost immediately inserted as a vital character into my story shortly after I found him again on Facebook. Vivian the detective is really Jenni's voice of logic and reason. My best friend Justin is vital to the book and Roxy's well being as well. And the hero in my story has become my husband, and the character I yearn for Roxy to be with even as I can't see how to separate her from the other man vying for her affections, the man who has given her everything she could ever wish for. The people in my lives are essential to my book, and it would be nothing without the love and characteristics they all possess that have inspired me. The passionate presence they provide in my life has poured a soul into each and every one of them who appears in my book. I am invested in every single one of my characters, I bleed for them when they bleed, and I can't wait to find out what happens to them all. I drive myself crazy trying to be true to all of them and true to the beauty behind them that comes from the people I love most. I am entirely unable to write anyone as a caricature because they are all real and breathing and alive to me. I cannot be detached from what I write. I must pour everything I have into it or the experience is not worthwhile in my mind.
I remember when I first realized this was in Honors English 10 J (the J was for Journalism) Over and over again my teacher would try to beat into me the idea that I was to write objectively. There was to be nothing personal or of opinion in what I wrote for his class. I was supposed to be utterly apart from my assignments.
I could not entirely do it. I had started writing fan fiction and plays when I was only 14 and it was impossible for me to write any way that wasn't personal. I am invested in whatever my pen turns out.
I have of course learned to do passably objective pieces for academic reasons or I never would have graduated from high school (let alone college). But each time I have snuck a little bit of myself into a paper, and each time it has felt wrong not to do more, like I was betraying my ideals. Why write if not to put heart and soul into the words?
It is because of this that I may never finish my novel. I want what is right for all my characters as people, and they say you cannot please everyone all the time. Particularly with Roxy I find I may not be able to give her what she needs, and I cannot write it unless I am true to her. I have yet to figure out exactly what it is Roxy wants from life in the first place, so it is possible I will never be able to satisfactorily end her story. I have a history of not finishing pieces because I couldn't make them turn out in a way that made me happy with what I had done.
I have to believe other writers have this same torment. Not all, but some of them surely must. There has to be authors out there who carry on the same love affair I do with the characters they write.
If I could only find them and ask them what they do about such problems. ;)
But I think I know. They, like me, find a way to be true to their characters at whatever cost.
I find that very inspiring.

Victory is Mine!

I threw out his old fleece today.
I don't even know why I still had the crappy old thing. He gave it to me when we were dating, and since it was about 3 sizes too big for him it was about 12 sizes too big for me. At one point when we were still dating he wanted it back because he decided what it meant to him (his unity with his cousin/best friend because they had matching ones) was more important than what I meant to him. There were lots of things more important than me in his life, and maybe that's why I didn't give it back, because I didn't want to acknowledge that painful truth.
Eventually it ripped around the collar and I clumsily sewed it back together. But it was never really the same after that. The stitches showed and there was no making it look the way it had before, no truly fixing it. Funny isn't it, how that fleece is such a twisted and sick metaphor for our relationship?
So why after being married for almost 3 years to the most amazing and compatible for me man I've ever met, did I still have that thing? Why did it take until today to finally throw it away?
For several years I kept telling myself I was going to give it to his girlfriend (fiancee now) since it really belonged to her and shouldn't be with me. But I could never get with her to pass that torch on.
For awhile I thought if I threw it away it would just mean I was bitter. Trashing and burning things like the angry ex that I wasn't because I'm quite happy with the life I have.
Then I kept telling myself, what if he wants it back and I've thrown it away?
I guess today I just realized he's never going to want it back. Just like I don't ever want what we had back. There's that annoyingly salient metaphor again.
But I've decided to be proud of myself because however obnoxious and relevant and true all the above is, the fact remains that I finally triumphed over that mentality. I am free both from the fleece and everything it represents. It's in the garbage now with the decomposing food and dog poop, and other assorted junk that winds up in our apartment dumpsters. I tossed it!
It's the kind of victory you savor.

Eh Tu, Gwen?

Gwen Stefani has betrayed me.
Don't get me wrong. It happened awhile ago. Nothing she's done lately could really surprise me.
It all started back in high school when Gwen introduced me to SKA as a young girl. And like any young girl with her head full of ideals, I fell in love. The "Tragic Kingdom" CD was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I loved the combination of Gwen's incredible voice and the big band sound of horns in the background. When people always asked me what my favorite kind of music was and I said SKA, they invariably asked "What?" with a confused look on their face. I always explained it to them as a mix of swing and punk rock. How could a teenager NOT love that?
When "Return of Saturn" came out I don't think I really noticed that there weren't as many horns in the background. I could tell it was a little more techno like, but it didn't really bother me because Gwen's incredible voice was still being used to good effect. I liked the CD pretty well.
And then when I was in college my dad bought me "Rock Steady."
I'm not a total idiot. I know R&B crap when I hear it.
No horns at all.
Gwen's gorgeous voice, barely utilized.
I was so disgusted I gave it to my sister so I would never have to hear it again.
What happened to the Gwen who loved SKA? The Gwen who made me fall in love with that incredible combination of instruments and amazing singing?
Gwen had betrayed me. And not just me. Punk rock and SKA lovers everywhere. This crap with no instruments where she barely used the amazing set of pipes she had was a complete travesty. The Gwen Stefani I knew and loved was gone.
Now it's like my friend David says. Every time Gwen Stefani sings "Hella Good" somewhere a little punk rocker yells out "Oi!" and dies.
Recently I heard a Gwen Stefani song on the radio that actually had horns in the back. It reminded me of the good old days with No Doubt. Dare I hope perhaps she's repented of her evil ways and will see the light and go back to the SKA sound so many of us love?
I doubt it. She probably just wants another excuse to musically knife me in the back.
Shame on you Gwen Stefani for forgetting who you are so you can run around with rappers and cute little Japanese girls that you won't even let speak English in public.
And someone please tell her she's not black.
If she truly comes back to SKA, stops appearing with all those artists and people who are nothing like her, then and only then will I consider forgiveness. She was the one artist I thought would always stay true to her roots. She seemed like a misfit, like me and others. The pink hair, the crazy videos, they really spoke to me, and I know I'm not the only one. Sure I was in high school at the time but it hasn't changed the fact that I still love the old Gwen, and the old No Doubt music. To this day I think it's some of the best.
So I just can't help but think, et tu Gwen?

The In-depth Explanation of my Multiple Personality Disorder

(The following is a narrative I wrote last year and recently re-examined, polished up, and edited. I decided to put it down as a blog post because it is really a window into who I am. Read on if you dare.)
I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but at some point in high school it became decided that I, Jess, had multiple personalities. Being that I wanted to become a writer, I took advantage of this opportunity by shaping these personas into genuine characters I could write about. It should come as no surprise that my friends Mel and Pi gave me the grand idea of writing “plays” (in the loosest definition of the word) that stared these intricate ladies, and before I knew it, my personalities began to grow. I started with five, gradually turned into six, and the end of my junior year had a full set of ten. At the time I thought crafting this complex troupe was just my way of laughing at the world. High school is an angsty time, and “the girls” and their misadventures served as a most welcome diversion. But now as a young adult I look back on my makeshift band and realize that each one created reflected something inherently important about my own personality and the depths of my psyche.
Oddly enough though I have been gifted with a head full of brown hair, somehow half of my personalities ended up as blondes. Perhaps it is best to try and explain those six first.
One of the earliest spin-offs from myself was Miss Pansy Faye. The name was taken from an old soap opera called “Dark Shadows” and the personality was patterned very much after the character in that show of the same name. Pansy is a can-can girl, supposedly from France (though sans the accent), who has the habit of calling everyone “love,” and the constant inclination to put herself into the spotlight. Pansy represents my desire to be an excellent performer. She is confidant enough to sing and dance in front of others and beautiful enough to show her legs in a can-can skirt. Pansy also embodies my love of dancing and singing. When I was a little girl I danced all the time, whether it was at dance classes or in the aisleways at performances of The Nutcracker. When I was in college as a music major my first year, the only class I looked forward to was my voice lessons. When I got to middle school I made the tragic discovery that I lacked the coordination to ever be any good at dancing, and to this day few people at a club dance more like a white girl than I do. When I got to college I realized I had terrible performance anxiety. Pansy was born in my heart as a young girl of four who had never told herself that she didn’t have rhythm and that could sing like a Disney Princess, and who thought it would be so glamorous to be a ballet dancer or a lounge singer!
Other blonde counterparts soon followed after Pansy. Sunshine made her appearance shortly afterward. She was a confident blonde who lived in California and had gorgeous males at her beck and call. Sunshine interviewed the famous hunks I found myself crushing on as a young girl, and could summon them at a moment’s notice with a littler silver bell. In return for her excellent company, these men lavished her with expensive presents such as golden porches, private jets, and yes even a white baby grand piano. Sunshine was me at my best. She was the grand organizer, coordinating not only her interviews with the happening gorgeous males of her choice, but also all the other girls’ activities. Like a talented mother getting one child to swim practice, another to play rehearsal, the third to the doctor, and still finding time to cook a 4 course meal for her husband and look great while doing it all, Sunshine had it all together. I realize now she represented my conscious desire to have more control over my life, and she also shared my deepest crushes and infatuations with TV stars like Jason Behr, and rock stars like Johnny Rzeznick. Sunshine was incredibly talented at managing people, but the other girls sometimes made fun of her when she got too serious. They constantly reminded her that you could plan things to death, a good check on this domineering persona and a good reminder to me of the dangers of letting Sunshine run rampant.
Two stereotypical blondes also came into being, helping form the laugh track to my high school career. The first was…it pains me to admit it…a cheerleader. Her name was Blondie and she was THE California girl. She talked like a Valley Girl, she fell on her butt half the time she tried to cartwheel, and she could barely spell. The obvious conclusion that most people drew was that Blondie was my way of making fun of the cheerleaders I so fervently despised in high school. Incompetent, shallow, and stupid, Blondie made me feel better about myself by pointing out that at least I wasn’t a brainless ditz like she was. The name had stuck with me from the summer previous where too much Sun-In had turned my brown locks bright yellow and people had taken up the descriptor to tease me relentlessly until I hurriedly dyed my hair back to my usual brunette. But Blondie also represented something most people wouldn’t have seen so easily. Blondie was my deep desire to be the kind of person who was popular and accepted. In the world of my personalities the other girls teased her for being the way she was, but at my high school she would have been queen of the social hierarchy. Harder still to admit is the fact that Blondie was proof of my guilty secret-as a young girl I had wanted desperately to be a cheerleader. When my mother refused, I ended up as an Orchestra dork instead, but part of me never forgot that silly dream to be able to do fantastic flips, cartwheels, and handsprings while an enthusiastic crowd looked on and cheered. Ashamed though I am, I cannot deny the verity of this acknowledgement.
Blondie’s unwitting partner in crime was a giggly airhead known as Nurse Nancy. The “Nurse” part of her name actually came from an inside joke my friends and I created that we were running an illegal medical practice. Nurse Nancy was the unwitting head of this odd operation, and the first nurse to grace the active roster in our shady business. Nurse Nancy was also the most amazing innocent who had ever lived. She was often empty headed, but unlike Blondie’s dumbness Nancy’s lack of intelligence was due to pure ignorance and naiveté. Nurse Nancy was loved by all for being clueless, even though her friend Blondie was ridiculed for the same quality. This was because Nurse Nancy’s goofiness always made the other girls smile whether they wanted to or not. Sometimes she frustrated them by not being able to grasp the latest thing they were trying to teach her, but she was always sweet and childlike with a pristine quality to her that was amusing but difficult to understand. Nurse Nancy, despite her lack of comprehension, is critically important to me. I realized only a short time ago that she represents something precious in my nature. When I was sixteen, the first boy I had the unfortunate experience of dumping wrote me a letter after our breakup telling me that I had a blessed and prized innocence that I should never let go of. He told me that if the world had more people like me it would be a very different place, and that I should hold onto my innocence at all costs and not allow anyone or anything to take it away if I could help it. Through the years I have taken this advice, and I have done it through the character of Nurse Nancy. Her single-mindedness may be slightly irritating at times, but she is doggedly loyal to the man in her life and happily oblivious to anything else. If Nurse Nancy were the face I displayed to the world all the time the consequences would be dire indeed. But as an acknowledged and welcome part of my heart she represents something so crucial that I have promised myself never to loose. Nurse Nancy was created when I became that girl in high school who didn’t know the meaning of most of the dirty slang words her friends used, and she embodies my ability to be ridiculous and my ability to see the world at important times through the eyes of a child.
The last blonde of the set used to be Sailor V aka Mina, but she is no longer a part of the line-up of ten now, and represents little more than my high school obsession with the Japanese Anime “Sailor Moon.” Somewhere along the line my silly teenage brain found something glamorous about fighting evil in the name of love and justice while wearing a short short skirt. I’m still not certain what her exact importance is, and why she didn’t get killed off with Heidi the German oompah dancer, but instead quietly left the scene to make way for another character. (Once my number got up to ten, it became an unspoken rule that there must always be ten at all times, 5 blondes and 5 brunettes, to “maintain the balance.” Everyone needs a ridiculous plot device to fall back on sometimes.) The balance concept leads me to the personality I view as the transitionary persona between the two sets, and that is Jennifer. My “good” twin, (myself being the evil one) Jennifer originally started as the name I jokingly gave my reflection since it was what people who forgot my name always called me, but soon she became a distinct identity in her own right. Jennifer almost immediately employed herself as Sunshine’s assistant, the acknowledgment of the fact that Sunshine could not do all the things she did without some kind of help, and though my personalities were crazy it was necessary for them to be somewhat believable as real people. Jennifer made that a little more conceivable, and happily provided a cheerful foil to my own personal pessimism. Jennifer is my optimism that continues to shine out more these days. She is the balance to my occasional negativity and the representation of my frustration when I’m not memorable enough for people to get my name right. Jennifer became drastically important many months ago when Sailor V left and a new brunette persona entered, requiring some solution to the fact that it left me with only 4 blondes. As a result, Nurse Nancy and Blondie dyed poor Jennifer’s hair yellow while she was sleeping, and she has been ordered by the rest to stay that way against her will so we can all maintain our balance. I find this a funny metaphor for the fact that Jennifer’s optimism often meets its match in the face of having to give way to others more dominant than her.
This brings me to reflect on the other five, my brunette half, who could actually be mistaken for me were they real physical personages. Long before I had multiple personalities, the first person to take shape that was almost completely like the everyday me was a tortured soul named Larissa. I used the name as my pen name in my ever-futile quest to become a writer. Larissa signed every work of fantasy, fiction, and narratives that my pen turned out, and she’s been with me from the moment my deep passion for writing first surfaced. No one ever told me it was fashionable or interesting to have a pen name, I merely decided to take one upon myself to avoid direct credit or censure for anything I created. Larissa has always been essential to me because she is my bottled up rage, angst, despair, apathy, daydreams, hope, and ideals. Larissa can say anything my soul needs to say if she can simply figure out how to put it on paper. She also represents my fear of the spotlight and my value of humility, the very antithesis of Miss Pansy Faye. I could not get on without Larissa because she is the one who loves and feels the deepest, and in who’s name I continue to pursue my greatest dream; the dream that I may someday become the author of a published work read by others.
And then there’s Roxy. A striking brunette, Roxy is the epitome of desire and passion, and her sex appeal and confidence in herself are the most powerful weapons in her arsenal. Coincidentally, Roxy has quite a conventional arsenal as well. Created as the yin to James Bond’s yang, Roxy is a female secret agent know also as 002.9 (yep, double oh two POINT nine), and the result of watching way too much Xena Warrior Princess and Buffy the Vampire Slayer until I was able to create the perfect femme fatale who is part Xena, part rogue slayer Faith, part female Bond, and all crazy gorgeous. Roxy is not only incredibly sexy, but she has used her stunning beauty to control any man she chooses. She packs heat, and she is a supreme martial artist. Roxy can always take care of herself, both in the ways of the heart and the ways of force. She can love ‘em and leave ‘em, and she can escape ‘em and break ‘em. She’s a strong woman and she hasn’t lost a bit of her femininity to that strength. By creating Roxy I created the uber woman. Roxy has all the qualities I wish most for myself but am not forward enough to develop. She exhumes sexuality and confidence, and she knows how to protect herself. Roxy can never get hurt. I created her out of a foolish desire to always want to be protected, and Roxy was made as the embodiment of the type of girl I’d often like to be, but know is silly to seriously attempt. There are moments where I am Roxy, like when I’m on the dance floor at a club with my girlfriends around me not caring who sees me or that we’re the only ones dancing and exhibiting a rare self confidence. But these moments come in short flashes and I have realized that it’s only fun to be Roxy for a little time before I miss the more quiet and demure Jess. Despite this though, Roxy has always been my favorite.
Faith is one of the newer additions, replacing the deceased and superfluous Heidi, and she has the excellent ability to take all the best qualities from the other personalities. She is sweet and sincere like Jennifer, musical like Pansy, levelheaded like Sunshine, cute like Nurse Nancy, serious like Larissa, enamoured with Johnny Rzeznick like Sunshine, noisy like Blondie, ambitious like Roxy, and looks suspiciously like me. There are no outrageous facets to Faith. She is a simple girl who plays the tambourine. Her big ambition in life is to convince the Goo Goo Dolls to let her play tambourine with the band on tour, but she fully never expects this to actually happen and is content merely playing her tambourine for the other girls. I love Faith for her simplicity, her straightforwardness, and the contentedness she inspires in me.
Vivian Fox arrived on the scene last year, forcing Jennifer to switch her identity to that of a blonde, and from the moment she’s show up she’s continued to be disruptive. Roxy’s cousin (and yes I realize it makes no sense for one of my personalities to be the “cousin” of another, but sometimes as a writer you just have to suspend disbelief for humor’s value), Vivian-or “Fox” as Roxy calls her-is a detective I created initially as a joke in a story I wrote called “The Case of the Missing Parents,” but I liked her so well she somehow convinced me to let her stay at the expense of both Sailor V’s presence, and Jennifer’s hair color. Vivian often shakes the other girls up, rising them out of their usual lethargy to think critically about whatever is going on, whether it needs critical thinking or not. Vivian represents to me the necessary practice of self-critique and analysis I find myself indulging in more and more every day. The more desperate I become to understand myself and my motives, the more I need Vivian to help me dissect it all.
Finally there’s me-Jess Phillips. I’m the tenth personality. Although really, I’m the first. Before any of the other girls, I was there, and if all the others fade away, I’ll still be me. But who is "me", really? Well, essentially “they” are. I am Faith, Roxy, Jennifer, Larissa, Vivian, Nurse Nancy, Blondie, Sunshine, and Pansy. All these “personalities” are characters I made up, one by one, who each have a piece of me in them. Some like Larissa and Faith are largely similar to me. Others like Roxy are far out of reach and there are only mere snippets where I feel I have anything in common with them. But I have realized that when I shamelessly seduce my husband, there’s Roxy proving she’s part of me. When I giggle for the sake of giggling, there’s Nurse Nancy helping me feel alive. When I cry for the sake of crying, Larissa is helping me express the innermost emotions of my heart. When I successfully complete a 25-page research paper and then get an A on it, there are those qualities of Sunshine that I can’t get on without. And when I sing without caring who hears I know that Pansy has somehow broken through for a moment. When I was in high school there was a Disney song I liked very much called “Reflection.” The chorus went like this-

“Who is that girl I see,
staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection
someone I don’t know?
I won’ t pretend that I’m,
Someone else, for all time,
When will my reflection show,
Who I am inside?”

I used to think my personalities were my way of pretending to be someone I’m not. These girls all started out as a joke, a simple amusement. But in reality they are so much more than that. They are all a part of me, and I could not exist without what each of them provides. My “personalities” are my personality. By turning them into characters I have been able to learn more about who I am. When I look in the mirror now, they’re all there starting straight back at me. My reflection is not just Jess. My reflection is Jess, Pansy, Sunshine, Blondie, Nurse Nancy, Jennifer, Larissa, Vivian, Roxy, and Faith. Each one is important, and each one is a part of my heart. Some days I feel like Roxy, some days I feel like Sunshine, and some days I just feel like Jess. But I need each and every one of them in order to just be Jess.

Medical Musings or Thoughts on Being Healthy

Okay I lied. I have one more thing to say and I was afraid to say it at first, but I'm just going to get it out because this has been such a wonderful week of discovery and self-awareness that I don't want to let it go just yet.
Since I was 17 I have always struggled with personal feelings about my health. When I was diagnosed with depression, part of what drove me to it in the first place (and there were certainly other factors but this is a very large one) is the fact that I had come down with constant headaches that there seemed to be no solution to curing. I went to countless doctors, got numerous tests run, and to this day the diagnosis is still that they were caused by tension. That never did me much good to make me feel better.
This is something I truly struggle with. I know it's ungrateful, but it really gets me down to feel bad for so long. I wouldn't mind so much if I just constantly got sick with things like colds and viruses that just hang on for a few weeks and then go away. But what I always end up with is conditions. First there were my "tension" headaches, then I got over them briefly to turn around and be diagnosed with IBS, and recently I have developed a sinus problem that the doctor has been trying to figure out how to help for the past several months. This really weighs on me. I know there are people out there who suffer way more than I do, and I know I am so lucky to not have some kind of terminal illness. I have the appearance of pretty good health truth be told and I should probably be more grateful for that. But I still really struggle with the fact that I have these conditions, things that while not debilitating, never really go away either. I get so tired of having sinus headaches all the time but not really being able to do anything about it. And it drives me crazy that if I don't eat frequently enough during the day, my IBS infliction sends horrible pains to my stomach that only get worse with movement and can't be gotten rid of without medicine, food, and prolonged laying down. It's so grumbling to say it, but I get sick of dealing with this in my life.
A few months ago I was thinking about how in the Bible God offered King Solomon any gift he wanted and he chose wisdom. I had fun asking a couple of friends what they would have picked had God extended such a choice to them, but it had taken next to no time for me to decide what I would choose if God ever offered it. It's entirely selfish of me but I know the thing I would choose would be to be in perfect health for the rest of my life.
Feeling bad physically has the ability to get me more upset and frustrated and depressed than most anything else that has challenged me. I've always felt like a weak person. I was a shy, quiet, and insecure person as long as I can remember. Having these physical disadvantages just seems to add insult to injury.
But if I think about it I can see some good things from it. My depression taught me to understand myself in a way I probably couldn't have otherwise. I learned to recognize those emotionally taxing spells in my life when they started coming, and to deal with them so that I could never be plunged into those depths of despair again. And by often feeling physically weak and delicate, I have developed strengths in other areas to compensate for it. I have an incredible emotional strength that I rely on to get me through day to day life. Yes I still cry at the drop of a hat. But the crying is actually very therapeutic, and instead of threatening my peace of mind, it actually helps contribute to it. I know how to handle tragedies and if I do cry I still get back up on my feet and go at things again, feeling stronger than I did the first time. I've slowly been laying down layers of steel in my soul and it's good to know they're there when I need them.
I've prayed and prayed and had others pray for me to get better, and it just doesn't seem to be in the cards. But I've never been angry at God. Yes sometimes I get a little down or frustrated with it, but never at the Lord. I've tried to turn it into a strength and believe that "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" and even if I don't understand why the Lord isn't bestowing the blessing of healing on me, I'm okay with that deep down, because I know it must mean he's helping prepare me for something. God knows how tough I'm going to need to be, and whether I understand entirely or not, I'm sure this is his way of helping me get there.
And for all my griping about not feeling good, it is undeniable how God has blessed my life in so many other wonderful ways. The people that surround me are all so incredible and provide me with so much that I need. My parents have always been a strong example to me, both of how to treat others, (my mom teaching me so much about tolerance) and how to stay together even when things are tough, and to try working things out before giving up and giving into the culture of divorce. My dad especially hammered that lesson into me that you always need to try, and that anything worth having requires lots of effort but is worth the hard work. And then there are my wonderful sisters who drove me absolutely bonkers when we were all living at home, but who I've now formed solid friendships with and who I'm delighted to see growing into real people in their own rights, even if I cringe to see them make any of the same mistakes I did (luckily they usually don't.) I know sometimes they are infuriated that I haven't given them nieces and nephews yet, but I hope they know that it's partially because I'm not ready to give up our relationships as they are right now to a changed one involving children. And my wonderful in-laws who have never been the stereotypical difficult people most married women complain about, but who have always been loving, supportive, and unobtrusive. My father-in-law is always ready to provide corny humor, my mother-in-law is like a wonderful friend that I can talk to for good advice, (not to mention she gave me back the gift of sight by paying for me to have laser eye surgery as a graduation gift) and my husband's grandma who is the most generous woman I've known and has taken me on trips to Ireland and Alaska, and given Steve and I money for our wedding and enough to go on a dream honeymoon to Hawaii. I could never afford to travel in such a luxurious way before and she has opened up such a wonderful source of new delight to me.
And God really has blessed me with some of the most incredible friends, people who knew how to help me deal with things like not always feeling healthy. There's my dear Justin, the person in high school who held my hand at times while I wandered through the murky swamp of depression, and who always had a hug and never made me feel judged, even if I knew he didn't entirely understand what was going on with me. There's my sweet Claire and Kari, my orchestra friends who always had a smile for me and always lived as excellent examples to how a person should behave. I think they're two of the best people I know. And of course Kim and her sweet, ornery husband Phil who have always gave and gave their love unconditionally and without question. And I know God sent Jenni my way, to help me form my political opinions, challenge the accepted wisdom, and enable me to not feel so alone, and give me the comfort that there was someone else out there who gets my wacky humor. And even in the tragedy of a friend's separation, he used that event to help me become closer to my Amanda, someone who has always been there for me when I felt like no one else had my back or if I needed validation and couldn't explain why. Not only that, but she is the best sounding board I've ever had for when I feel irrational. When I have a problem, she gives me the most impartial advice and enables me to distance myself from my emotions and see things more clearly. If I'm irrational, she tells me, and if there are feelings and concerns that really are valid she helps me see that. Just recently, God blessed me with Kate as well, and gave me as she says a "mirror" to help me see into my soul and understand myself in a way I couldn't before, while feeling simultaneously that I was able to help her as I helped myself. I used to think I was a freak for feeling the way I did and having the scars I had from the experiences I'd gone through, but I don't feel that way since sharing my thoughts with Kate and seeing how near identitcal her feelings are to mine. Now I feel normal.
Finally the Lord has blessed with with the most wonderful soul mate and best friend I could ask for. My husband Steve is my greatest source of strength. He pushes me to do things I think are hard, gets me outside my comfort zone, and builds up my self confidence everyday. I could never believe I met someone so perfect for me by chance. I know God brought us together, and helped us overcome what seemed like giant hurdles in our relationship when we were dating to bring us to the day when we finally got married.
Wow. I started this post telling you all how ungrateful I am and somehow it ended with me realizing I am one of the luckiest people on Earth. Thanks for listening. I needed to gripe for a minute. I still hate that I often don't feel well. But in the scheme of things, it's not really that significant. When I put it into the perspective of all the things I've got, it kinda fades into the background. And I think that's the healthiest thing for me.

My Art

I think Kate has given me so many new insights into my life, that I could probably write blog entries for days. But today I'll just do one more, and then mull over if any others are blog worthy for another day.
All my life I have been surrounded by people I consider artists. My mother draws excellently, and often made her own birthday cards for my dad by copying down characters and inserting her own brand of humor. As a I child I liked to color, but even then I knew I wasn't as good at it as the other kids. On top of that, craft projects had tormented me from a very early age. I distinctly remember being in kindergarten, trying to make a construction paper witch, and not being able to do as well as the other kids because I couldn't cut my triangle to look right since the right handed scissors I had been given didn't work correctly for my left-handed self. Of course when I was little I didn't realize this wasn't my fault. I thought there was something wrong that I couldn't make the scissors work like the other kids could (it looked so easy when they did it!) So from a very early age I had trouble believing I could ever have any artistic talent.
My friend Kim started showing exceptional drawing talent in about 4th grade. She could draw the prettiest horses I'd ever seen, and she started doing pictures of mythical beasts that just amazed me. Kim taught me to draw a pretty good looking horse (for a 4th grader) but it often frustrated me to watch her give visual birth to the flights of fancy in her head while I, equally enamored with fantasy and with plenty of creatures and characters of my own kicking around in my head, couldn't give equal treatment on paper to what I wanted to see become real before my eyes.
I started playing piano when I was 6, and for many years it was just something I did. I practiced, I did okay, but at my first or second recital I realized that I had terrible performance anxiety. Yet another venue of being an artist seemed closed to me.
In high school I learned that on top of my friend Kim, my friends Justin, Thomas, and Maria were also quite talented at drawing. They would all make beautiful pictures for me and I would sigh over the talent I envied but didn't possess. Many times I tried to make myself learn to draw but I never got very far. It just wasn't my gift.
When I graduated from high school I realized that my largest strength seemed to be music from the 12 years of piano lessons and 7 years of orchestra I had gone through. And I really loved music, but I got far more delight out of listening or playing in a group, than individual performing. Still, I had no idea what I wanted to do in college and it was the only thing I really had to go off of, so I decided to go to Otterbein and be a music major.
This turned out to be the hardest blow to my self-esteem as an aspiring artist, and almost cemented my belief that I could never achieve that dream. At Otterbein in a way I never had before, I was surrounded by musicians and art and dance students with whom we shared the building. Everywhere around me were people who could sing so beautifully it broke your heart, play songs on an instrument without music, dance with breathtaking rhytmn, or draw, paint, or sculpt things the likes of which I had never dreamed. The person I became closest to then was my friend Jenni, and she had incredible talent as well at painting and photography. All around there was so much to admire, and sometimes it made me sad that I couldn't feel like I was a part of any of that.
It was so frustrating for me because I felt that I had an artistic soul. Although I didn't understand a lot of what people meant when they talked about art, I was interested in most mediums and loved to watch and listen and admire whatever anyone talented created. Before I got to college I kept thinking I could find a way to be an artist, but Otterbein shattered that. I got to take voice lessons for the first time, and loved to sing, but there were so many others who were so much better and I realized I would need years of formal training to take the raw love and basic proficiency and turn it into something more. And as my piano juries ground in deeper and deeper, my performance anxiety had become almost crippling. I had memory blanks when performing for the faculty as part of my grade.
On top of that almost all the singers and instrumentalists I knew were so daggone arrogant. They thought they were all going to be God's next gift to the world of music and that just didn't fit at all with my quiet, self-deprecating persona.
The next year I switched majors and colleges, to study political science, history, and geography at OSU. Gone now were my dreams of being an artist. I thought maybe I'd be a teacher or something else instead. After all, performance had proved to not be for me, and to be surrounded by so many with such amazing gifts was just too overwhelming. I had taken a line from the book "Little Women" to heart-"Talent isn't genius and no amount of hard work can make it so." I tried to find another way in life for myself.
I graduated from college with my social studies degree and absolutely no idea what I wanted to do in life anymore. I had developed a deep love for politics and political discussion, but there were no careers in that field that seemed suitable to me. Married and very happy with my situation, with no pressure to immediately employ myself thanks to my wonderful husband, I started to try and find myself again. I eventually took up flower arranging under the instruction of a florist, thanks to my wonderful friend Amanda who pushed me to try and do something I'd always thought about but never been brave enough to try. I was surprised to find for the first that I felt I was good at something that seemed so arts and crafty, and I enjoyed flowers as a new hobby. I started to feel like maybe I could be a little artistic.
And then my beautiful friend Kate opened up an insight to me that I can't believe I have been missing for so long. You see, I am already an artist. I have been since I was 14.
Writing is my art.
I had never before thought of writing as an artistic medium. For years I filled up notebooks with fantasy, fan fic, and narratives, without ever considering it to be anything impressive or important. It was just a silly hobby I had. I knew I felt compelled to write continuously, and so I did, but I never stopped to examine why.
What Kate helped me see is that my writing has always been my true artistic outlet. I write because I need to. It's the only way I can truly get out all the dreams and thoughts and feelings in my head and heart. No, I can't draw or paint beautiful pictures showing the things I imagine inside my head. But I can use words and the wonderful power of adjectives to describe what I see in my brain and give everyone the opportunity to paint their own picture and enjoy it in their own way. I've always been amazed at the power of words, and the wonderful places a good description can take you. I think that's part of the reason why I love playing the game "Apples to Apples" so much. It's a constant exercise in using words to convey images, impressions, and even humor to people. Playing with words has always been one of my chief joys.
Writing is just as much a outlet for me as painting is for people like Kate or drawing is for people like Kim and Justin, or any kind of music is for people like the talented students at Otterbein I left behind.
I used to think writing was just a dumb hobby I had. I never fully understood why when I first started, if I went long periods without writing anything, I would get depressed and sad and feel frustrated without knowing why. Now I know it was my artistic outlet, my way to express all the important things running through my head that would stifle me if I didn't allow them to come out on paper and help me come to terms with whatever I was struggling with.
Like happens in art and music, not all of my writing is very good. I don't always or even often produce gems. When I first started my blog, after the first several posts, I went a long time without writing anything because I felt I couldn't think of a clever way to say what I was thinking, and it got me really down until one day my post "Falling in Love With Love" burst out of me and I saw that even though it was technically unimpressive, it was so relieving to get out what I'd been needing to say all this time! Kate has taught me to see that what's most important isn't quality, but just doing it for the sake of giving your thoughts, feelings, and soul the outlet it needs.
And it makes sense for writing to be my medium, because it's the least performance related of arts that I can think of. I can do my writing on my own time and choose not to show it to anyone until I think it's ready. I don't have to memorize, and the final product can be loved by one person and hated by another. I don't need a room full of people clapping or admiring my words. Just knowing that even one person likes my writing, or that what I wrote meant something to someone, has always been enough for me. Writing is the perfect artistic expression for me.
Thanks Kate for helping me find my art. I'm so much happier for it.

Validation

This was originally a note on my Facebook page but it was so important to me and cathartic to write that I wanted to put it here as well.
Two nights ago I had the epiphany that almost my entire life has been one continuous search for validation. I always knew that I needed a lot of approval from those most important in my life, (and to be honest I've always basked in approval from strangers or casual acquaintances as well.) But it was sitting in a Chinese restaurant with a beautiful woman named Kate (who is one of the best friends I have ever made) that I suddenly had the key to seeing my whole life for what it was. Why this miracle? I've certainly talked about my entire life with my husband many times over and never had a breakthrough to understanding myself like this before. So why now? It's funny, but I think it's because instead of just telling Kate about things I'd been through and wondering if she could know what it was like, as I would with most people, I discovered that I didn't even HAVE to tell Kate most of the time, because she'd had the same personality forming experiences, and had reacted to/taken away the same things from them. It was like she knew me even better than I knew myself. If I could have had the same conversation with myself, I still don't think I would have come to the conclusions I did. It took someone sitting across from me who wasn't me, someone that I respected and looked up to as a person of intelligence, artisticness, (I know that's not a word but I don't know how else to say it) and beauty to make me feel like for the first time, it was really okay to feel the way I feel and be the person I am.
Why the desperate need for validation? Ever since I was little, I craved the approval of my parents, particularly my mother who I felt like I could never entirely please. In my first serious relationship, this need was magnified ten fold, with disastrous consequences. I eventually plunged into depression and found myself questioning everything about myself, and more so than usual. By the time I was 16, any chance I had at self confidence had been shot-by not being able to live up to all of my mother's standards no matter how hard I tried, by kids who had been my friends in elementary school and kids I didn't even know suddenly teasing me mercilessly when I got to middle school (I had one real friend in Middle School. Seriously. God bless you Kari), and finally by friends who gave up on me when I got depressed because it scared them and they didn't want to deal with it, and by a boyfriend who I relied on desperately to define my own self worth, but who wasn't someone I should have still been in a relationship with. I always used to think I was a freak, because there were other kids who never felt the way I did, or who never let the same things bother them, or even happen to them in the first place. Some of them appeared beautiful and talented, and I could see why they didn't have a crisis of self-confidence like I did. But some of them were more like me, nerdy and out of place, and had a much clearer and healthier sense of self than I knew how to develop.
When I met Steve things started to get better. He was always complimenting me, always telling me how wonderful he thought I was, and I could tell that his feelings were genuine and that he wasn't just saying those things to try and get into my pants. After we got married it got even better. Just knowing that one person believed that much in me did so much for my self confidence. I became often bubbly around other people, and thrived in certain groups as a happy conversationalist. But the problems of inadequacy didn't go away entirely. No matter how hard my husband tried, he alone could not entirely restore my self confidence. I was still very nervous in certain groups. Whenever we were with Steve's college friends, I was plunged into uncertainty and uncomfortableness, because I had felt from the get go that they didn't like me, and I can't ever fully believe now that they do. Even with my own friends too, I still go through periodic bouts of doubt, wondering if they really like me, or if they were just humoring me, or just spending time with me because like me they enjoyed the attention from my charismatic husband, who has the ability to make everybody feel special, loved, and included. The jist of it is that I've never really learned how to be sure of myself. Being self-critical is who I am. I'm defined by my lack of self-confidence and it will never go away in its entirety. I may be able to act exciting and interesting at a party, but the entire time I am I'm wondering if people find me annoying or if I'm coming off as obnoxious. I don't doubt my husband's belief in me. But I'll always doubt myself to some extent.
So I find myself constantly reaching out for validation. I went crazy with Facebook because I need that constant human contact so often, need to feel like I have friends. I can tell myself that if people I admire like me, that can't make me all bad.
I've always loved dogs, because they are a source of unconditional love I've never had to doubt. You can always count on a dog to give you validation, and you don't ever have to worry it doesn't secretly dislike you. Dogs don't even know how to be critical, only loving. They're the perfect pet for someone who has no self-confidence. Having Fancy here with me this week has been a blessing-she gives me so much constant approval!
I find myself always expecting the worse outcome because that way it will hopefully stave off the disappointment if it's as bad as I think. And it's hardly ever as bad as I think. But sometimes it's worse than I think, and that makes it all the more difficult for me to have faith in myself.
When I went out to dinner with Kate I was paranoid she wouldn't like me, or that I wouldn't be able to be an interesting enough conversationalist to captivate someone like her who was so smart and savvy. Without my husband, I find it difficult sometimes to be with other people because his charisma isn't transferable, just immitatable. I can only give people what I have, and I don't always have as much as Steve does to give them. My strongest point is my emotions and my empathy, and when I give people everything I have in that respect, I always wonder if it's enough. But what I found with Kate was something I never would have expected in a million years. The person sitting across from me was still the elegant, creative, intelligent person I'd got the impression she was, but she also turned out to be someone who understood me more than anyone I've ever known.
So now I know that I'm desperate for validation. And I know why. But for the first time I don't feel like a freak about it. I just feel happy to be me. Even if I don't think I'm so cool. I finally feel normal. That alone is validation I'd never achieved before.

No Place for a Princess

I love poofy dresses.
My problem stems from the fact that I watched so many Disney Princess movies growing up, I became obsessed (there's that trouble again!) with the idea of dancing in a big flowing dress!
Prom was the greatest excuse in the world to buy a dress with a big poofy skirt. You couldn't get away with it for homecoming, but for prom it was a golden opportunity.
Unfortunately when I got to high school age, I wasn't able to afford any of those kind of dresses. I was so desperate to get to wear a poofy dress, I went back to my Polish ex-boyfriend's high school prom (he was a year younger than me) with him and my best friend JUST so I could wear a big blue poofy dress I had finally been able to afford.
I made sure when I got married to have a dress made with a big skirt, and wore my first crinoline ever. I felt like such a princess that day with my fancy white dress and my huge dance floor at the reception.
So my question is now that why as adults are there not more events we can wear these kind of dresses to???
The only chance we usually get is if we get picked to be bridesmaids for our friends. I got to wear the most gorgeous red dress I've ever seen to my friend Kim's wedding as her matron of honor, but opportunities like that don't come along everyday. Half the time you don't even get to pick the dress out, and girls nowadays usually tend to favor the slim evening gown style for their attendants. And eventually all my friends will be married and then what chance do I have? There just aren't any occasions for wearing the kind of dresses I adore. Do the rich class have charity balls and the like where they can wear these kind of dresses? Not that it matters, I'll probably never be rich.
So I guess I'm stuck hoping the fashions will change and I'll be able to wear big poofy dresses to events that it previously made no sense to wear such attire to. It's sad, but I really love to wear dresses that much.
But in reality, probably the only thing left for me is when I have children, and can dress my little girls up in poofy dresses to try and live vicariously through them.
They'll probably hate it.

They Don't Have a Group for This

I've discovered that though I've never fallen prey to the classic addictions- drugs, cigarettes, alcohol, etc.- I still develop my very own special and equally disturbing addictions that interfere with my life.
The last one I told you about was the Harry Potter Books on Tape, but now I have a new, less excusable one.
Facebook.
I resisted Facebook and the less impressive MySpace for years. I've never been very technologically savvy, so I figured it just wasn't for me. I only decided to get a blog so I could practice writing narratives. But I vowed I would never give into the self-obsessed internet culture represented by the MySpace crowd. Most of the people I knew who used these kind of web pages were my sister's friends that had them as online diaries so their friends could all get ticked at each other when they read about the nasty things the other person had said about them.
Less than a year ago I remember one of my classmates in political science, a girl I didn't even know, looking at me like an alien when after asking me if I was on Facebook, I informed her that not only was I not on it, but I didn't even know what it was. That alone was enough to convince me that I didn't need to find out anything about it. If it was something popular that all the other kids at OSU were doing, odds were I probably wouldn't like it. After all, they all went to keggers and were nuts about football, and I'd never gotten on those bandwagons.
But then a few days ago my friend Kim decided to throw a party, and she put her invitation up on Facebook. I wanted to comment on the page about whether I was coming or not, but I realized that I couldn't unless I had a Facebook page.
So I thought, ah what the heck, I'll never use it so why not just make one so I can RSVP to Kim.
And then it sucked me in.
The next thing I knew I was obsessed with posting pictures, putting up quotes, and looking for people.
I found so many people I hadn't talked to in years, people who I honestly had wished I hadn't fallen out of touch with. And I discovered that almost all my best friends were on Facebook as well. I sent out friend requests to a whole slew of individuals.
And now here I am checking my Facebook page every two minutes, desperate to know who's said what and what's new with everyone. Why do I feel like I'm in high school again? Only instead of talking about who's going with who to prom or who got in a fight with whoever, now we all talk about what we're studying in school or what kind of jobs we're trying to find.
I really honestly love knowing what's going on with everyone. I love feeling like I'm a part of a group that I can constantly comment on and be involved with whenever I want. The joiner deep inside of me is jumping for joy.
And I keep thinking about increasingly more clever things to put on my profile that will epitomize what I am all about. When did I suddenly become so self absorbed?
I should probably get help. But they just don't have a group for this.
And besides, I'm having way too much fun. ;)

A Christian Triumph

I just thought I'd share something really uplifting with you all. If you have time read the following article-

http://www.christianchurchestogether.org/news/070209.html

Christian Churches are coming together to help decrease poverty! What a Christian Triumph! It bodes well for the world that denominations across ecumenical and racial lines can all come together to accomplish a common goal. Things like this give me true hope for the world we live in. I pray we'll continue to see more of these type of efforts in this country and others. Christians could do so much if they would stop focusing on their differences and continue to come together on issues like this that we can all agree upon.
I pray that the efforts will continue. And I'll definitely be looking for ways to get involved in projects like this one!

Bush's Legacy

First of all let me just state that this post is for humor only. I don't really believe the following, I just always enjoy cockamamie theories and I thought this one was good for a laugh. (Though I do believe everything I'm going to say about Reagan and I really don't care for him as a president.)
My mother recently brought up the point that Bush seems to not care about the type of legacy he is leaving behind. With the disastrous Iraq War still going on, the gap between the rich and poor reaching new unbelievable heights, and global warming finally starting to be believed to be a real threat that Bush has ignored his whole administration, groups of historians have already started proclaiming him the worst president in history.
But why would a man not care what type of legacy he left behind as president. Does he really want to go down in the history books as the worst leader our country has ever had?
It doesn't seem to make much sense until you insert my ridiculous theory into the equation.
Here's my thought. Bush knows it's too late to change how people remember him. But it's not to late to change how people remember a certain fellow president of ours, one who he's always admired and wished to emulate.
I think Bush is trying to improve Ronald Reagan's image.
You see, Reagan is dead now and it's started to come closer to the time where people will be allowed to more closely scrutinize what he did while he was in office. And if those who have no memory of what the country was like under Reagan start to look at his actual record, there are things there to find that could tarnish the former president's image. (I really hope my father and my friend Pi don't read the following or I fear they'll never forgive me.)
After all, Reagan supported numerous ruthless dictators in his fervor to prevent communism from spreading. A case could even be made that after Nixon and Carter's work in the presidency, the Cold War could have ended in the beginning of the 80s if not for Ronald Reagan stretching it out for another decade. Reagan stirred up anti-communist paranoia again and gave the country an old bogeyman to be desperately afraid of for another 8 years. Then there's how Reaganomics really seemed to have injured the country's economic situation and drive it into a stagnant state that wasn't corrected until 8 years of Clinton's fiscal policy. And if we read the encyclopedia it tells how during the Iran/Iraq War, we were the ones who gave money and weapons to Saddam Hussein, effectively putting him into power.
What would happen to conservatives everywhere if the image of their most beloved president ever became damaged when fully put under the microscope? It would be more than many of them could bear.
But never fear. Bush has devised a foolproof strategy. He may not be able to save his own image but he can at least save Reagan's.
After all, when you compare all the the things Bush has done to the legacy of Ronald Reagan, the old movie star looks pretty darn impressive doesn't he? Sure there were a few things he did that weren't that great, but he was a political genius compared to Bush!
So fear not President Bush. We may remember you with disdain and loathing and you may go down as the worst president in history, but your ineptitude has saved the reputation of your idol. Compared to you, Ronald Reagan will always be remembered as a Saint and a National Hero.
At least by everyone but me and my mom. ;)

Bully Coulter vs. Jim Wallis

My friend Claire recently sent me one of the latest articles from Ann Coulter's website. Here's the link to her recent ranting-

http://www.anncoulter.com/cgi-local/welcome.cgi

The first thing that struck me about this article was her continual chastisement of the Hollywood set and how they waste their riches on frivolous things such as massive mansions and expensive water by the case. I almost laughed myself silly at her outrage because what does she think all those rich Republican CEOs and businessmen do with their money? She's okay with them spending their fortunes however they want, but if Hollywood Stars are free with their money it's a sin? Yet another famous Coulter double standard. (And I'll bet of the two groups, the rich Democrats give a lot more of their wealth to charity.)
But the gist of this article is that she's basically declared a crusade against global warming. Ironically she seems to be one of those irrational Republicans still holding on to the notion that scientists are still solidly on both sides of the aisle on the global warming issue. I know of course that she hasn't actually watched "An Inconvenient Truth," (in fact I think global warming is more inconvenient to her than anyone else as it punches a giant hole in one of her favorite arguments) but if she had she would know a study has been done of hundreds of scientific articles on global warming, and absolutely none of them disputed the fact that global warming is real and significantly affected by humans.
Still this is the same woman who recently called John Edwards a faggot, so I shouldn't expect any kind of willingness to hear others out who don't agree with her, or to even write about her opinions in anything other than a haze of hatred. Simply put Ann Coulter is a bully and it's silly of me to expect her to act like anything else.
This becomes particularly apparent when I contrast her to my new hero, Jim Wallis. Mr. Wallis recently wrote an article discussing the denial of certain Christians on the Religious Right who like Ms.Coulter are convinced that global warming is a bogeyman made up by liberals and not worth our time. Here's the article-

http://www.beliefnet.com/blogs/godspolitics/2007/03/jim-wallis-dr-dobson-lets-have-real.html

Wallis points out, without insulting anyone I might add, that there is no reason global warming shouldn't be considered as much of a moral issue as issues like abortion and gay marriage. In fact in a show of his usual brilliance he goes on to say the following-
Is the fact that 30,000 children will die globally today, and everyday, from needless hunger and disease a great moral issue for evangelical Christians? How about the reality of 3 billion of God’s children living on less than $2 per day? And isn’t the still-widespread and needless poverty in our own country, the richest nation in the world, a moral scandal? What about pandemics like HIV/AIDS that wipe out whole generations and countries, or the sex trafficking of massive numbers of women and children? Should genocide in Darfur be a moral issue for Christians? And what about disastrous wars like Iraq? And then there is, of course, the issue that got Dobson and his allies so agitated. If the scientific consensus is right - climate change is real, is caused substantially by human activity, and could result in hundreds of thousands of deaths - then isn’t that also a great moral issue? Could global warming actually be alarming evidence of human tinkering with God’s creation?
So there it is. Can we as Christians really put these prescient issues on the back burner and deny that they are just as moral as the issues Republicans claim have greater importance? Part of the reason Coulter and those like her bother me so much is they spout the dogma that "moral" politics can only involve abortion, gay marriage, and the teaching of sexual abstinence. Yet the mistress of morality and her fellow holier-than-thou colleagues ignore issues like poverty, the war in Iraq, and global warming, which have just as much a right, if not more, to be considered moral politics as well. Statistically those three issues kill far more people than those few the Far Right is all up in arms about. Christians can't claim to support a culture of life if they turn a blind eye to those dying by the political issues that Democrats are traditionally concerned about, and claim that abortion, abstinence, and gay marriage are the only "moral" concerns in politics we should be worried about.
I can't stop those of you who want to believe the hateful and ignorant things that Ann Coulter says. But between her and Jim Wallis, I certainly know who I respect more. I choose to support a culture of life-for ALL issues, not just the ones championed by the Far Right.
Let's end the Religious Right's monopoly on morality. There are definitely more pressing issues at hand than just the ones they're laying on the table.

The End of the Religious Right?

Alright, I finished "God's Politics" and I've come back to babble more about how excited it's made me.
Since finishing it I've delved into Jim Wallis' blog for the book, and the Sojourners' own website, which among other things has great petitions that you can sign for social justice issues such as aid to Darfur and encouraging peaceful negotiations with Iran.
Then today I read this article from the "Times" that Wallis had written about how the Religious Right's Reign may be coming to an end-

http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1590782,00.html

I can't deny that the prospect of an end of the Religious Right's Era of influence and rhetoric that holds so many Americans in sway really excites me. I would love to see a more moderate discourse take its place. The extreme hypocrisy and intolerance of the Religious Right has caused me enough shame and grief as Christian, and I've spent many a time trying to convince people skeptical of my faith that I don't hold the same views as these fanatics or agree with most of their approaches.
Imagine what this country would be like if no one party had a monopoly on faith. If people of both parties could talk about issues that mattered to Christians, and we wouldn't have to take sides or be automatically assumed to be affiliated with zealots who don't represent our own interests well at all.
The truth of it is, God isn't a Republican or a Democrat, and people of faith shouldn't have to feel trapped in one party or another. The majority of Americans are moderates (if you don't believe me, read "Culture War? The Myth of a Polarized America" by Morris P. Fiorina for some compelling statistical evidence) and we deserve to have a discourse that recognizes all of our interests. Who says as Christians we can't care about the safe guarding of the environment AND the strength of families, or providing aid to the poor AND supporting a culture of life (the two should really go hand in hand in my opinion). Without the Religious Right's harmful influence, maybe we could get somewhere on the abortion debate, and actually work to decrease the number of abortions and alleviate the conditions of those who feel driven to have an abortion as a last result, instead of continuing the fruitless arguement over whether it should be legal or not. I'd like to believe things like that could happen if the Religious Right looses its influence over politics.
I hope with all my heart that the Religious Right's power is giving way to the voices of those who are less fanatical and more moderate. Because those voices would provide a conversation I would really want to get involved in.

The Bad Boy Complex

This article has been a long time coming. It's the product of too much Xena Warrior Princess and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, with a dash of not very relevant personal experience. (My friends Jenni and Kari will particularly understand this.)
You all know I spend way too much time analyzing things (as many women are known to do) and something I've thought about a lot over the years has been why women become addicted to bad men.
I blame TV for getting me started on this train of thought. Between watching Xena being never quite able to turn her most ardent admirer, Ares God of War, away from her, and Buffy finally giving into Spike the Vampire's obsession with her, it was only inevitable that the subject captivate my thoughts and not let up until I wrote about it.
But Xena and Buffy aren't the only ones. I think just about every woman has fallen for at least one bad boy in their lives. I even kinda had one, my ex-boyfriend Jason. He wasn't particularly bad by most standards (he certainly didn't start wars that resulted in massive bloodshed like Ares or suck the life out of people like Spike) but he was the closest I ever got to knowing what Buffy and Xena went through. The reason Jason was a bad boy to me was that I was a strict Christian, and he broke several of the rules I followed. He drank, he smoked, and he had sex with the girls he dated. I did none of these things. He never pressured me to do any of these things myself (he even stopped smoking while he was dating me) but the fact remained that I was dating someone who had very different morals than I did.
I stayed with Jason for about two months and in the process fell more in love with him than I would have liked. He left me quite suddenly, shortly after I told him I loved him. It was hard to get over him, and even harder still to understand why on Earth I had been so crazy about him in the first place.
Fortunately with the help of Buffy and Xena I was eventually able to figure it out. This is nothing new to many women, but it was an epiphany to me.
I knew Jason wasn't husband material. My sisters didn't like him and my friends who had met him all told me he was wrong for me (with the exception of my friend Kim who I don't think has ever inserted her opinion about what I should do into my life) I knew we weren't compatible and had no chance in the long run. And yet I couldn't ever walk away from him entirely, just like Xena never could give up on Ares. And just like Buffy I kept coming back for more. If he hadn't broken things off, I don't know how I ever would have made myself do what was best for both of us, and go our separate ways.
Why is this? Why would I continue to date someone who it made absolutely no sense for me to be with? I knew I wasn't the only one who had found herself in this type of conundrum, and yet I still couldn't make any sense of why I felt the way I did.
The truth I've finally discovered is that bad boys like Ares and Spike and even Jason are addicting. First of all because they're exciting. They're accompanied by intriguing things like risks, sexual tension, and strong (although not always lasting) feelings that are very hard to eschew of your own free will. The exhilaration they provide is very likely to become a dangerous obsession if you let it. (And like many women before me, I sure let it.)
Why as women do we have trouble staying away from men like this? Xena strung Ares along for years, because even though she knew he was bad for her, she still couldn't deny the fact that he was intoxicating to her. She was desperate for the passion he provided and she enjoyed the way it felt to lose control. Buffy befell the same fate. She didn't have entire control of her emotions around Spike, and as a result gave into a damaging and entirely physical relationship with him because she couldn't resist the way he made her feel.
I think most women like to feel out of control sometimes. It's odd because it's often scary but the very thing that makes it frightening also makes it thrilling. I don't think it's anything we're proud of (I'm certainly not) but it would be lying to deny it's a very seductive choice.
Of course I'm not Xena or Buffy. My experiences were nowhere near as dramatic. I never slept with Jason (about a year ago he revealed to me I was the only girl he dated that he had never had sex with.) I didn't compromise my morals while I was with him, and the somewhat risque feeling of our relationship along with his tender side kept me from being able to voluntarily give him up (side note-many bad boys have a tender side that helps women rationalize being with them. For example, Ares and Spike both truly loved their women, Ares giving up his godhood to save Xena's daughter and best friend from death, and Spike giving up his life to save Buffy and the other slayers from the ubervamps.) Not only did being with Jason sometimes feel dangerous and exciting, but he also helped me get out of an abusive relationship with my previous boyfriend and did a lot to help restore my shattered confidence. He may not have loved me the way Xena and Buffy were loved by Ares and Spike, but I still couldn't imagine ever breaking things off while I was with him. This is a deadly combination that is hard to resist.
In the end I think most women make the right choice-whether it is forced upon them sooner than they like or they find their own inner strength to break the addiction-and they often choose reliable men who they are more compatible with and who they don't worry will leave them when things stop being exciting (though I have to say my husband certainly hasn't stopped being exciting since I met him, and is a rare blend of wild euphoria and quiet dependability.) In our heart of hearts, we women know it's not the bad boys we want to be the fathers of our children, but the good men who we can always count on and who love us in a much more substantial way than a crazy fling or a completely physical encounter.
But I have a feeling that as long as we women are on Earth, bad boys will be a part of our lives, tempting, toying with, and teasing us. It's usually unwise to flirt with that danger for too long, but hard to deny that most of us will do it at some point or another. The primal instincts are hard to overcome, but in my experience I've found that as much as the bad boys may excite us, the good men are the ones who win our hearts completely.
I know that's how it worked for me. ;)

God's Politics and the Communitarian Viewpoint

I have started reading the most wonderful book.
It's called "God's Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn't Get It" and I highly (and I cannot stress that word enough) recommend it to everyone who believes in the importance of moral politics. Here's a video of the author, Jim Wallis, on the Daily Show, expressing what this book is really about-

http://www.sojo.net/index.cfm?action=special.display&item=050111_godspolitics

I have to tell you this has really got me thinking! Ever since I took an interest in politics I discovered that my political identity had no good fit. Like the Republicans, I was socially conservative, but believed they handled their approach to social problems all wrong and without the proper amount of tolerance. Like Democrats, I was economically conservative, believing strongly in the importance of supporting social programs, especially those helping the poor. I never really fit with either party. I was what they called a communitarian-the one label on the four way continuum that had no real voice. Even the partyless libertarian's got elected to office occasionally, but I hadn't heard of a single communitarian politician.
"God's Politics" advocates my exact political stance though. The author describes what I understand to be the communitarian platform exactly as the missing void for what people of faith need as an electoral option.
Now if only I could find a way to give birth to a stable communitarian party! A party where you could disagree with the War in Iraq and the lack of diplomacy while at the same time supporting welfare and aid to the poor in other countries! To me it seems like the perfect Christian option.
I've come to believe that the two party system is strongly inadequate for the needs of truly devoted Christians. In his interview with Jon Stewart, Wallis makes the statement that he thinks a political movement is ready to begin as a result of this problem. I hope so because I desperately want to be a part of it. Be certain there will be more on this subject soon!

Falling in Love with Love

Since becoming a housewife, I find myself less often inspired to write than when I was working at Kohl's and could barely find the time for it. Still, the occasional gem does present itself if I am particularly patient and reflective.
As of late I find myself musing over the dangers of being in love with being in love. This is partially due to having just read Sense and Sensibility again for the 5th or 6th time now, but it all started mulling over in my head after my most recent viewing of the "politically correct version" (as I like to call it) of Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella. Poignant visions of Bernadette Peters have danced in and out of my mind in which she is passionately singing her rendition of "Falling in Love with Love." I catch myself singing it in the shower for no apparent reason lately. But after finishing Jane Austen's beloved classic today, I find myself with a sudden desire to wax eloquent about the thoughts both Bernadette and Marianne have conjured up.
You see, I fell in love with love when I was very young. Growing up on Disney Princess movies was what contributed the most to my fanciful romantic ideas. As a young girl, ideas of "prince charming," and "happily ever after," were firmly planted in my brain. They were the ideals constantly in my mind. My ultimate dream was to one day find my own knight in shining armor and have a fairy tale ending.
In high school I also picked up the dubious idea of how romantic it would be to marry your high school sweetheart. I was inspired by my best friend Claire's parents, high school sweethearts who were happier than most other married couples I had observed. So when I met my first serious boyfriend, I was completely set up for the disaster that followed.
It would be lying to say that the first 6 months of our relationship weren't quite wonderful, and indeed they were as near perfect as relationships can get. But then why, when the first six months gave way to abuse and arguments, did I not have the intelligence to break it off? Why did I continue to stay with him on and off for another two years?
Like both Bernadette Peters' character in Cinderella and Marianne Dashwood, I was in love with the idea of being in love. Though my boyfriend had proved to be a scoundrel like Marianne's Willoughby, (though in a different way than Willoughby as I cannot claim that he impregnated anyone) I could not simply talk myself out of the ideals that had led me to him. And although the way I felt about him was some kind of young love, and was constant despite the awful parts of our relationship, it nowhere near compares to the way in which I later found I loved Steve. It is only recently I realized that this was because even though I cared about him, what I really loved the most was just the idea of being in love and the chance to make my romantic fantasies come true. The most difficult thing to overcome became not how I felt about him, but how much in love I was with the idea of marrying my high school sweetheart and having a happily ever after. When the relationship began I had told myself that I had found everything I had been dreaming of since I was 6. It seemed wrong when things suddenly turned sour to doubt that.
So even though it was obvious my prince charming had become more of a fairy tale villain than a hero, I kept holding on to a dying relationship convinced I could still make my happily ever after come out right.
The lyrics that Bernadette sang play vividly in my mind as I remember my foolishness-

"I fell in love with love one night when the moon was full,
I was blind with eyes unwilling to see..."

When I finally got a grip on myself and had the courage to end our relationship once and for all, I realized that it was far more difficult to leave behind the expectations I had built and the relationships I had cherished with his friends and family as part of my romantic dream, than it was to actually leave the boy himself. The hardest thing I have ever learned in my romantic life was how to stop being in love with the idea of being in love. Luckily it didn't take a near death illness like Marianne, or a cold selfish personna like Bernadette's to bring me to this realization. I actually learned this difficult lesson with the help of a boy who was nothing like a prince charming, and with a new self awareness which taught me how to understand life in a more rational, productive way.
And the funniest part was, I ended up finding my real prince charming when I wasn't even looking. By the time the man who would become my husband came along, I had developed a good deal more sense, and a better understanding of what would really make me happy in life. And it wasn't until after many months together that I suddenly came upon the realization that I had found what I had so desperately tried to MAKE happen with a less worthy man.
In the end I learned to pay attention to things like compatibility and suitable dispositions. Those two things had proved a better guide for obtaining my happy ending than any of the silly romantic ideals I had perfected in high school ever had.
A very Jane Austen conclusion to my life. And I couldn't be happier.
A with a husband who is truly my heart's desire, I find myself now safely able to be in love with being in love, because first I had the sense to make sure we had long lasting potential. To quote Jane Austen I feel that I, like Marianne "was born to discover the falsehoods of her own opinions, and to counteract, by her conduct, her most favorite maxims...But so it was...as afterwards in her more calm and sober judgment she had determined on-she found herself at 19 {side note-the age I happened upon my husband coincidentally} submitting to new attachments..."
Now I find myself married to a man who I admire and respect, and whose devotion I never have to worry about questioning or whose love I never have to doubt.
If that's not a happily ever after, I don't know what is.

When the Going Gets Tough, Blame Clinton!

I admit I have been rather absent from the blog world. Just when I thought I was ready to settle back into writing, a conundrum with my husband's job arrived and I was spending a lot of my free time looking for another job and interviewing. But now my husband has gotten a new, great job and I find myself in the pleasant position of no longer working in retail and being allowed to try out a stint as a housewife!
So what better time to start writing again?
I think maybe I might need to add something about politics in my blog title because the subject is unreasonably taking over all my interest. In the last two months I have read books by Bill and Hillary Clinton, Colin Powell, and watched a documentary on the Iraq War with interviews with countless former intelligence and security officials who worked in the federal government. Which is why I feel slightly entitled after all that study to make the following statement.
Why the heck can't the Bush administration take responsibility for their own mistakes?!?
I realize that President Bush and his cronies think that EVER admitting they've done anything wrong would be perceived as a sign of weakness, but that does not excuse their latest strategy one bit.
I'm talking about trying to dump all the blame for everything this administration has done wrong in the past six years on poor Bill Clinton!
Yah, I said it. Poor Bill Clinton.
You can heckle me all you want about the moral standing of the former president. You have your points to make and I have mine. (Though I think this Republican administration has no right to point fingers right now after all the numerous scandals that have recently plagued them. Let he who is without sin...)
However I will have to stop you at attacking the merits of the Clinton administration.
Let's look at the charges shall we?
1) Clinton did not leave a comprehensive plan for the Bush administration to deal with terrorism and Al Qaida.
HA HA! There is solid evidence and many testimonies to the fact that the Clinton administration did leave a comprehensive plan for the Bush administration. It's just that it was promptly ignored and discarded. Although I guess it's hard to look over a terror strategy when you take the first six months in office off on vacation!
2) September 11th was Bill Clinton's fault.
This just makes me sick. As if any one person could be blamed for what happened during September 11th. Though I think we could come pretty close to blaming Bush since he ignored warnings that terrorists were going to try and fly planes into buildings (testimony of former intelligence officials). But hey, let's blame the man who came closer than anyone else to actually catching Osama Bin Laden (you remember Bin Laden President Bush, he's the guy you SHOULD be going after!). It's particularly interesting that when President Clinton made the decision to bomb Bin Laden (who it is thought escaped by only two hours) he received heavy criticism from Republicans for trying to detract attention from his impeachment trial. Darned if you do, darned if you don't (but only if you're Bill Clinton!)
3)Kim Jong Il being insane and having nuclear weapons is Bill Clinton's fault.
I can see where the Bush administration gets this. Based on their rhetoric, anyone who has diplomatic relations with a country that is not democratic (and we're giving the Reagan administration a big out here for their support of authoritarian regimes that were economically beneficial for us to give aide to) must therefore have been helping to breed terrorism. I guess if you look at it that way, it is Clinton's fault (insert eye rolling here). I'm just waiting for the Bush administration to call Madeline Albright a terrorist for all the work she did. Heck while they're at it, they might as well attack Kissinger. Look at all the work HE did with non-democracies.
Call me crazy but I liked the good old days under the Clinton administration where we were well respected in the international arena and when even the countries that disliked us were still on speaking terms with President Clinton. But then again I like diplomacy and I realize that's not a word the Bush administration either understands or condones (heck I bet President Bush can't even PRONOUNCE diplomacy).
And everyone made such a fuss over Clinton's interview on Fox News when he was accused of not trying hard enough to get rid of Bin Laden and he snapped back at Chris Wallace. Well I don't blame Clinton one bit for being upset about that. The man was constantly hounded for every single thing he did by Republicans while in office. He shouldn't have to be hounded now by "fool and baised" (oh I'm sorry that was supposed to be "fair and balanced") Fox News and their overtly Republican "newscasters" for not suceeding to get rid of of somone Bush refused to acknowledge as a threat until he rammed a plane into the World Trade Center.
So call me a terrorist (I'm sure Ann Coulter would be the first) but I think there's nothing more cowardly then blaming the problems of YOUR administration on a man who, although may have made some personal mistakes in his time, still managed to run the country with dignity, intelligence, and diplomatic skill.
But what do I know? I'm just an Independent moderate who's willing to excuse both Nixon and Clinton's personal failings based on both their excellent foreign policy records and Clinton's ability to jumpstart an economy left stagnant by Reganomics and leave office with a huge deficit turned into a surplus.
A surplus which you managed to squander on an immoral war that has killed thousands of young Americans Mr. Bush.
But don't take responsibility for that either. I'm sure you'll find some way to blame even the Iraq war on President Clinton.

Selective Memory

Well after laser eye surgery, a new computer, and a jaunt in Alaska, I finally find myself with time to write once again.
I've been thinking lately a lot about how irritating it is to be forced to relive memories against my will. Specifically, I find myself wishing that I was able to select whether certain sights, sounds, and smells would evoke recollections of the past or not.
For example, I find it very unnerving that anytime I hear the song "Leaving on a Jet Plane" I am most unpleasantly transported back to a moment in time I would rather forget. Suddenly I can hear my ex boyfriend Ben singing the song to me in one of the most pitiful moments of our relationship. It was right before he left for Honduras for two weeks. The song was a desperate ploy to save a relationship that was damaged beyond repair. The attempt was supposed to be sweet, but could not make up for the previous year and a half of arguements, sadness, and abuse we had bestowed on each other. It was a moment where I saw with vivid clarity how two people had never been more wrong for each other. It was also embaressing and akward because I was so far past being able to ever look at Ben in a romantic way again while he was still blatantly refusing to give up on us. I would pay to get rid of this memory, and many others from our realtionship, yet I find that anytime the song comes on the car radio it always commanderes my mind without consent and is about as welcome as George Bush is in France.
So I can't help but think sometimes that it would be a blessing to select what images were allowed to be conjured up in reaction to certain things I can not always avoid.
Would that was the only irritating memory I was forced to relive against my will but there are others.
There's also the time I was at work, happily minding my own buisness as I put away shoes, when suddenly a guy walked by wearing the same cologne my ex, Jason, used to wear. This provoked another set of memories which I would prefer not to dwell on both because I am happily married, and because Jason represents a problematic point in my life filled with arguements with Ben, confusion about what I wanted from life, and the added burden of everyone telling me how wrong Jason was for me. Yet nevertheless, everytime I would suceed in banishing such thoughts, Mr. Eau de Ex would walk by and trigger another bought of re-experienced memories.
The absolute worst one though is the song "Proud to Be an American" which was played incessantly during my father's abscence in the Gulf War when I was only eight. This is particuarly painful as it brings back vivid recollections of how scared I was while my father was away, how sad and frustrated my mother was during that time, and the constant fear I had of my dad not making it back alive. And every year, like it or not, I am forced to view all these things in my mental theater at least once as the song has become completely unavoidable on the 4th of July. (Seriously, they play it everywhere).
If I have to retain these melancholy memories, I would at least like complete control over when and where I choose to relive them. Being forced to think back on things that distress me during a road trip with my husband, at work, or during the annual 4th fireworks is not only frustrating, it's unnerving.
I suppose in the end that's life though. Without the bitter we wouldn't know the sweet. Still, I can't help but occasionally think that maybe it would be better for all concerned if I was able to selectivly remember when, where, and what I want. It would certainly make me much more amiable and far less disgruntled. ;)

Happy to be Content

It's amazing what your computer crashing does to your ability to update your blog. Luckily I have some time here at my mother's house to write what's been on my mind lately.
Last week I found myself in a debate with my friend Paul. We got to talking about happiness versus contentment. I know many people define these words in different ways, so for the sake of this piece I will say that our contention was that happiness implies a fleeting enjoyment whereas contentment is long lasting.
Paul was arguing that happiness is more precious than contentment. He claimed that people who say money can't buy happiness never had any money. I replied that I agreed with him in that money could buy happiness, but that it could not buy contentment. Paul claimed contentment was worthless while happiness was more valuable as it's fleetingness provided a constant goal to try and attain.
This makes sense for Paul. After all Paul is the type of person who could wake up in the morning next to a girl he didn't love and not worry about what had happened last night. Paul lives for the moment. Paul also doesn't believe in God, calling him "the big apparition that lives in the sky." Paul has never obtained anything in his life to give him lasting joy so I can see why he values happiness over contentment.
For me however happiness alone would never be satisfactory. When I was 17 I reached a point where, diagnosed with depression, I thought I would never be content again. During that long year I certainly had happy moments, but they did nothing to eradicate my despair when they were as fleeting as Paul's beloved momentary enjoyments.
Now at 23, married to a man I love with all my being, I find that the peace of mind I have obtained from a solid relationship with both my husband Steve and my God is a treasure beyond diamonds, pearls, or any other delight money could buy. When I was 17 I never thought I would find what I have today. It still amazes me that the Lord helped pull me from my depression, and that Steve loved me when I had thought myself unloveable.
So I can say with complete confidence that I'm quite happy to be content. It is a state more precious to me than I think Paul could ever understand. And there's something quite nice about knowing that the man I wake up next to in the morning is my husband, and I don't ever have to regret what we did the night before. ;)

Addicted to Harry

Well it's been awhile since my last post, all due to my latest problem. I have become addicted to Harry Potter.
On the up-side my husband supports this much more than my addiction to Stephanopoulos.
On the downside almost all of my free time is taken up listening to Harry Potter. Yes, listening.
You see for the past several years my best friend Jenni has been telling me I should read the Harry Potter books. While they always seemed interesting, epseically to a fantasy buff like me, I just never had the time to sit down and attempt the monster novels. I had to read school books, work, etc. and there simply wasn't enough time for something longer than the collected works of J.R.R. Tolkien.
But with the advent of my Stephanopoulos infatuation came the discovery of books on tape. Shortly after I had an epiphany.
I spend a great deal of time in the car irritably switching radio stations. But if the Harry Potter books could be listened to on tape....
Well you can connect the dots I'm sure.
Now I'm already on the sixth book after about a month and the amazing narrative, witty British expresions, and magnificent fantasy world have pulled me in.
I finally understand why my best friend ranted about the movies being innacurate.
The words "manky" and "git" have become regulars in my vocabulary.
But funniest of all perhaps is that I pulled my husband into the addiction.
We can't go anywhere in the car now without listening to Jim Dale and his cacaphony of voices as he reads J.K. Rowling's masterpiece to us.
So while I apologize to the one person who probably reads this from time to time for not having anything up to read lately, I hope you will at least excuse me in my understandable new persuit.
I have most definately decided that my favorite character is Pigwigeon.

Duckception

I have an update on the baby duck situation at mirror lake.
There is now a new group of baby ducks. They are so tiny, they're probably brand new.
One of them isn't with the others though. I think it's because he can't swim correctly. His feet are splayed out real far and all he can manage to do is swim in circles. I almost brought him home, but I don't know how to take care of a baby duck and if he died on my watch I would feel horrible.
To make matters worse, the one month older lone baby I told you about earlier started bullying the poor little duck right before my eyes, trying to push the little baby under. The tiny baby tried to swim away, but of course all he could do was swim in circles.
I have been a victim of duckception. I have been deceived by ducks.
I will no longer trust older baby ducks who cry for their mommies and bully the younger ones when no one is looking. I feel foolish for pitying that duck in the first place.
Now I just wish I knew what to do for the new baby.
I need to stop falling in love with ducks. It is too heartwrenching.
Tomorrow is my last day on OSU campus. I'll have to look in on the baby one more time and see if he has learned how to swim correctly. Maybe someone at the veterinary college can help him out.
Hang in there little baby duck.

Where Have All the Ducks Gone?

My heart was broken today.
I went to visit mirror lake this afternoon and see how the 15 baby ducks I was so taken with a month ago were doing. When I got there I discovered something horrible.
There is only one baby duck left.
I do not know where the other 14 baby ducks have gotten to, but I'm pretty sure they died. This fear was confirmed by another student who said she was fairly certain they hadn't survived.
The worst part is, the lone baby duck just paddled around the pond chirping sadly. Not even its mother paid any attention to it. It was all alone.
I have to stop writing now or I'm going to cry.

Christians Voting Democrat

I've been pondering over something for a long time and now I'm going to take a stab at articulating it into words. I feel very strongly that someone has to say this- You can still be a good Christian and vote Democrat.
As much as George W. Bush and others would like us to believe that politics is an entirely black and white matter, a simple case of good versus evil, it most definitely is not.
I am certainly not a political expert. But with a political science major, a decent study of history, and exposure to a lot of different viewpoints, I can honestly say that politics is not black and white. In fact, it is full of lovely shades of gray.
For those of you who believe voting Republican is the only acceptable Christian answer, let me ask you this-do you honestly believe Republicans like Ann Coulter, Dick Cheney, and Rush Limbaugh act like good Christians?
The fact of the matter is, Republicans are not always good people anymore than Democrats are.
My mother is a Mormon Democrat. This may sound like an oxymoron (I haven't forgotten you "mean Christian" you Ann Coulter) but it's not. I laud the Mormon approach to voting, wherein a statement from the church leadership is released every election encouraging each individual member to pray and make their own decision to vote for who they personally feel will be the best candidate. No one in the Mormon church has ever told my mother she has to vote Republican if she wants to be Christian.
Now while it's true that Utah is one of the reddest states in the nation, I also know many non-Utah Mormons (there's a big difference between Utah Mormons and non-Utah Mormons, believe me) who vote Democrat. And I'm sorry, but you can't tell me that their voting choices make them bad people.
Let's consider a few things. I asked my Mormon Democrat mother one day why she thought many Christians vote exclusively Republican when Democrats support social programs that give aid to the poor and unemployed. My mother told me she thought it had to do with the Protestant work ethic, and that her guess was most Christians aren't in favor of these social programs because they appear to be "handouts" and are contradictory to people earning their way in life.
I respect the Protestant work ethic very much. Our country could not have been founded without it. But the bitter reality is that in this country today, working hard does not necessarily guarantee you success or fair treatment in life. And if there's simply not enough jobs to go around, how are we to say whether the average poor person on the street is destitute because they're not willing to work, or because they simply can't find a job or have been cheated by the system? I personally would rather err on the side of providing enough aid and support to social programs that provide for the unfortunate and end up with some people benefiting off the system who don't deserve it, than err on the other side wherein many of the unfortunate and needy who can't help their own situation go hungry and without help. Jesus commanded us to help the poor-which side do you want to err on?
The other popular argument of course is that Democrats are amoral because of their position on social issues such as gay marriage and abortion. I understand this concern-I don't want gay marriage to become a law anymore than the next Christian. But drawing the line there, I also think it's wrong to discriminate against gays in the work place, and deny them basic tax benefits, and other rights. Didn't Jesus command us to love everybody? Erring on the side of discrimination seems a little dangerous to me, and a little hypocritical for Christians. And I know Democrats often support things that go against our beliefs, such as abortion. But let's think for a moment. The issue of abortion is not as black and white as Republicans would like you to believe, and they use it as a very effective smoke screen to make themselves look like the properly moral choice. If we outlaw abortion, will it stop women from getting abortions? Most likely, it will only cause them to get those abortions illegally, increasing the chance that they will hurt themselves or die as well in the process. I'm certainly not sanctioning abortion. But I don't believe voting for a Republican who is against abortion is going to solve that problem. Even if we feel abortion is wrong, Republicans have yet to offer us a tried and true solution to ending the grief it causes. The abortion rate went down under Clinton. It hasn't under Bush.
Furthermore, I will never be able to vote for a person, Democrat or Republican, who started something as completely immoral as the Iraq War. I will never support a war started by a man who first claimed we were going into Iraq because of their link with Al Qaeda, then claimed it was due to the presence of weapons of mass destruction, and finally claimed it was to promote freedom and democracy. I will not support a war against "terrorism," which like the Cold War is a war against idealology and not able to target anyone place or people containing the true source of the problem. I cannot support a war which can never truly be won but is merely a symbolic gesture to try and prove to the people of America that our president is taking a stand against evil. In reality that same president is responsible for the death of thousands of our soldiers, many of them young men and young women. He and his advisers are also responsible for the deaths of thousands of Iraqis, most of whom did not ask for us to help them let alone invade their country. No Christian anywhere can convince me that there is anything moral about this ghastly war in Iraq. A woman who lost a son in Iraq came to our campus and spoke to us about her grief and her personal feelings about the war. George Bush and other Republicans in his administration are responsible not just for her suffering, but for the sorrow of mothers and families everywhere losing their children to a war with no true purpose other than supporting Bush's rhetoric, and no true end in sight. I believe I am a patriot when I say I support our troops by wanting to bring them home again. I pray for those young men and women just as I pray for our country; that they can be safe and that they will not have to be needlessly put in the way of danger.
Furthermore I will not be governed by fear. I will not allow the Republicans to convince me that the war is necessary to protect ourselves from "terror." I will not allow them to cow me into voting for them because a Democrat could not protect the country as well as they claim they are able to do. I do not take any stock in their "terror alerts" made to scare the American public. They are responsible for creating part of the terror in the first place, and they cannot rule me by fear of terrorism. Did Christ lead his people by fear? No, he lead them by love and compassion.
Can you tell me that there is anything moral about what the current Republicans in the Bush administration have enacted and supported lately? Tell me what is moral or in concordance with Christian thought about this war which George Bush and his advisors have fomented, augmented, and drawn out? Jesus told us that "by their fruits you shall know them." Look at the fruits of this Republican administration. The Iraq War alone stands as testament that what George Bush and his staff have produced as their fruit is destruction, sorrow, fear, and death. Is George Bush a Christian just because he tells us he is? Of course his words claim he is. But look at his deeds. Is he truly acting in a manner that is consistent with true Christian beliefs and ideals? Is a preemptive war, responsible for a body count that continues to grow with each passing day, the act of a true Christian?
Of course as Christians I know you have to vote as your consciences tell you to. More than anything else I want for all Americans to be free to vote as they feel led to. But my plea to you is don't let anyone else tell you how to vote, not me or any other Christian. And especially don't vote for people like George Bush just because your pastor tells you to. I highly recommend the Mormon approach. Examine the candidates, look at the facts, and search the issues thoroughly. Then pray about your decision and do what your heart says is right. And please remember that voting Republican isn't always voting for Christian ideals. It is not a matter of good versus evil. Rather it is a matter of deciding which shade of grey is better than the other.

Dear Ann Coulter

To Ms. Coulter,
I doubt that you'll ever occasion to read my blog, but be that as it may I still have a few things to say to you.
First of all, thank you for providing me with inspiration for a new posting, and therefore getting me out of a slump in blog writing. Now onto my gripe.
It has come to my attention Ms. Coulter, that after reading an interview with you in Vogue (the most available reading material in the Kohl's breakroom at the time) I need to confront you with an unfortunate statement that escaped your lips. (I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time such a thing has happened.)
You see Ms. Coulter, you stated that you were a "mean Christian."
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I must contradict this. Despite your impressive intelligence, you obviously don't seem to understand that "mean Christian" is an oxymoron.
Look Ms. Coulter, I hate to be picky, but as Christians we have enough problems with people claiming to represent us who then go on to say nasty things (that's right Pat Robertson, I'm hinting at you) So please, if you have any good feelings whatsoever about Christians, do not throw in your lot with us.
Unless of course you intend to be a "nice Christian."
You see a mean Christian is not something that I believe can technically exist. If you are being mean, then you are obviously contradicting Christ's gospel of love and forgiveness. So I'm afraid until you learn to play nice with others, I'm going to ask you to refrain from counting yourself among Christians who are working hard to make sure they DON'T gain a negative reputation.
Please consider my words, I really do mean them most sincerely.
In the meantime if you're going to continue to be so nasty, maybe you should claim membership in a group that supports your negativity. I'm sure there are plenty out there who would be willing to claim you.
Also, if you can't say anything nice, please don't say anything at all about being a Christian.
Thank you for your time.
~Concerned Christian (not an oxymoron)

Political Aspirations

My husband is loosing patience with me.
First it was my crush on Sora. That irritated Steve a bit. Then a few days ago I admitted to him I have a crush on George Stephanopoulos. Now he's downright pouty.
I blame my professors you know. Two of them have made me watch "The War Room" in class in the past year. The first time I remember being intrigued by George. The second time I realized I have a crush on him.
My husband was very willing to accept the crushes I came into our current relationship with. He had no problem taking me to three different Goo Goo Dolls concerts so I could swoon over Johnny Rzeznik. And he certainly didn't mind watching lots of James Bond movies with me so I could stare at Pierce Brosnon and admire both his hair (it ALWAYS looks great no matter what kind of firefight he's involved in!) and the sexy way he runs.
However, my husband has strong objections to me developing crushes now that we are married.
Putting Sora aside, it's started to worry me that all the men I have crushes on lately are old enough to be my father (not healthy!) Although in my defence they're all still about eight years younger than my father. ;)
I've also started to wonder when I made the progression from crushes on rock stars and movie stars to political figures. Does this mean I'm getting older, or stranger? Or both?
I just can't help but love George! There's just something so attractive about his political savy, his dedication to the Clinton campaign in "The War Room," and his witty sense of humor in the face of adversity. And I'm a sucker for guys with dark hair.
I tried for awhile to talk myself out of it, but I just can't. He's too intruiging. So I gave in and decided to indulge my George infatuation.
It's so bad I ordered from the library his book All Too Human: A Political Education on tape, and I even made sure to get the version with HIM actually reading it. What could be better than George keeping me company in the car?
Now I'm trying to figure out how to manage fitting in watching "This Week" into my busy schedule, so I can see George on the TV as much as possible.
After all, what is a girl without an obsession?
I'm sorry Steve.
Also on a side note, James Carville looks like an older version of my friend's fiance, which amuses me to no end. So in an odd way I love him too.
Shhh! Don't tell Steve. ;)

Three Loves, Three Lives

A couple of years ago I was forced to read a book for a women's studies composition class called Aquamarine by Carol Anshaw. Although I hated the story, the premise of the book was quite fascinating. The book was based on the concept of there being pivotal moments in life where a decision you make could drastically change the way the rest of your life plays out. The book showed three entirely different lives that resulted from a different decision made each time at the pivotal moment by the female protaganist.
I've thought about this for a long time and I truly believe in the validity of this theory. In particular I've thought over a pivotal point in my life, involving the three men I loved.
At this time in my life I was dating the first man I loved and had just met the second man I loved. My relationship with the first had become abusive, and it was the second man who opened my eyes to this where others had failed to do so. I chose at that point in my life to date the second man, while not entirely breaking things off with the first. This provided me with a greater feeling of confidence and self worth. The second man left me after a few months and I went back to the first man, but now I was different. When the third man in my life, the man I still love to this day and is my husband came along, I was able to finally end things with the first man, and gain a life of true happiness for myself.
Today I had the startling realization that if anything had played out slightly different during this pivotal moment, I would be leading a very different life.
If I had not chosen to date the second man, I would probably still be with the first. If I had married the first man, I would be constantly afraid for myself. I seemed to always bring out his temper and violence, and I would have lived a life of misery with him.
However, if I had not broken the realtionship off when I did, if I had cheated on the first man instead of waiting for official permission from him to date the second man, maybe I would have ended up married to the second man, because the first man would have severed all ties to me. Had I married the second man, I would constantly be afriad, not for myself but for him. He went on to become a police officer, and I would have lived a life of fear, never knowing if my husband was going to come home each night.
But because of the exact manner in which things played out I married the third man. As a result I am living a life of fulfillment. Our personalities are well suited for each other, and we have many things in common. My husband encourages me to step outside myself, and I generally only have reason to fear when he gets it into his head that we need to go on a crazy adventure across the country in a car. ;)
All this reflection makes me extremely grateful to the Lord that I made the decisions I did. I am glad he helped lead me in a difficult time in my life. I prayed for guidance in my life during that time in a way I never had before. Happily I can say my decisions led me to what seems to me to have been by far the best possible scenario. It is a great satisfaction to look back at that period of my life and feel that although every little thing wasn't perfect, I made the right decisions at the pivotal moment.

Cartoon Crushes

I think I have a crush on Sora.
You may not be familiar with Sora. He is the spiky haired protagonist of the Play Station Games "Kingdom Hearts" and "Kingdom Hearts II."
I'm not quite sure when this happened, but I suspect it wasn't until the second game when Sora got some new clothes and started looking pretty sharp. However, I do know where it originated from.
I have a history of cartoon crushes you see. I don't even think they have a group for that!
It started when I was quite young, and the cartoon show "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" came out in the late 80s.
I'll admit it. I fell in love with a Ninja Turtle.
I was bound and determined I was going to marry Raphael and live happily ever after in the sewers.
When I become a teenager I grew out of my amphibian infatuation and found a new object of my affection.
Another mutant.
I started watching the X-Men cartoons with my father and it wasn't long before Gambit, the card throwing red-eyed mutant thief and charmer, had captured my heart.
Now it's Sora.
I'm beginning to suspect there's something wrong with me. My husband wasn't too pleased when I told him about my new yen for the Kingdom Hearts Hero.
But then again isn't having cartoon crushes healthier than celebrity crushes? (okay I have those too so I guess that point is moot either way).
I wasn't the only one you know. My friend Melissa followed me step by step for awhile. During our young years we were going to have a double wedding, me marrying Raphael and she marrying Michelangelo. While I was swooning over Gambit, she had a crush on Wolverine.
On the other hand being in love with fictional people is kind of disturbing. Maybe I should seek help.
Or I could just go play some more Kingdom Hearts and admire Sora's unique sense of justice and fashion. He has the coolest hair.

Concerns of a Former Mormon

Today I e-mailed a publishing company to comment to them about their recent book.
The book is called "The Unexpected Journey" and shares interesting stories about people who came from various different backgrounds-Satanism, Astrology, agnostics, etc., and tells the story of why they decided to come to Christ and Christianity. Overall I really enjoyed the book, and the stories were poignant, but I had some serious concerns with the first chapter, which represented Mormons in a very unfavorable light.
This is particularly hard for me because I grew up in the Mormon church. I now go to a non-denominational church, but for my first 21 years the Mormon church was a significant part of my life.
In addition to that, many of my family and friends are still Mormon. Though I chose to leave the Mormon church because I didn't feel it was providing me with personal fulfillment, I still admire and respect my friends and family and have seen the church do amazing things in these people's lives.
So to have the church misrepresented was more than I could bear.
I wrote a letter (serious but not angry I hope) pointing out what I believed to be their errors.
The worst part was they implied that Mormons do not truly believe in Jesus.
I got my testimony of Christ from the Mormon church. I sang the hymn "I Believe in Christ, My God, My King" many many times.
Knowing what I know, I felt like I had to speak up.
On the converse I can happily say I know many Christians who have made great efforts to reach out to Mormons and get their facts straight. I hope one day this will be the norm and not the exception.
Someday I hope Mormons and Christians will truly love and accept each other the way we all should.
It is an interesting position to be in, being a former Mormon with no negative feelings about the church and excited to be a part of the non-denominational church she goes to now.
The majority of Mormons who leave the church become angry and bitter, and usually never follow another faith. I seem to be an exception to the rule. I bear the church no ill will. Indeed, they provided me with excellent moral values and a testimony of my Savior that is the foundation my life.
So I can only hope that as time goes on, a spirit of love will begin to permeate this issue and replace all the opposition I have witnessed in confusion.
Thank you for your time. I will now step off of my soapbox.

Effusions about Ducks

I love ducks.
I didn't always love ducks. I used to just kind of like ducks. Now I love them.
First of all, let me make something perfectly clear. When I say ducks I mean ducks. Not swans, which I find beautiful but have no strong feelings about, or geese who I think are just about the nastiest, meanest, and dirtiest animals alive. (I was attacked by a goose when I was little.) The only way I like geese is cooked. No when I say ducks that's exactly what I mean.
Quack.
College contributed greatly to this phenomena. After my first year at Otterbein as a music major, I switched to political science and started going to the branch campus of OSU at Newark.
When I left Otterbein, I left behind my only college friend. I didn't really know anyone at Newark and even though I tried to make friends it never really worked out for me. That was until I discovered the pond out back.
I made friends with the ducks.
Ducks are very friendly. And excellent lunch companions. Every day it was warm I would eat my lunch by the pond and watch the ducks. It was my favorite part of the day.
A couple Christmases after that I went to a party at the "Embassy Suites" for my friend Amanda's husband's company. Amanda I spent most of the night watching the cutest little ducks they had there in their indoor pond. These ducks were the most interesting I had ever seen. They were from somewhere in Asia, I think, and were tiny. They even had a little duck hutch to live in! After a long time of viewing enjoyment, Amanda and I named one of the ducks, "The Duck of Indecision" because he kept coming up to the water's edge, putting a foot in, leaning over like he was going to dive in, and then walking back to the duck hutch. (I actually haven't visited them for awhile and really should go see them. After all, it's not as though I don't have visitation rights.)
My fascination with ducks started to take off after that. It wasn't long afterwards that I had to finish up my classes at the main campus of OSU, and much to my delight I discovered Mirror Lake, and whole new host of ducks!
Baby ducks are the best. I think they're even cuter than puppies. And it's hilarious (and sometime scary!) how they just follow each other around in an even little line. One time at the Riverwalk in Gahanna I watched a group of tiny baby ducks swimming on top of the little waterfall. They would swim right up to the edge like daring little ducklings, start to go over, and then pull themselves back up at the last minute. After about ten minutes or so of this, one of the baby ducks finally went over the waterfall! Momma Duck quaked and looked over the edge worriedly, and as she did so each little brother and sister then proceeded one by one to follow after their sibling over the waterfall! I was scared for the babies because there were lots of sharp rocks down at the bottom, but luckily they were all okay and seemed to think it was great fun because they swam off happily while Momma quaked angrily at them, and when they continued to ignore her, finally flew over and rounded them up.
There were about nine baby ducks at Mirror Lake and a bunch of adult ducks as well. They were actually very reflective of OSU campus. They were a very diverse lot with all different types, sizes, and colors of ducks.
The first one I named was a baby at the time. He had several white feathers that stuck up from his head like spikey hair, so I named him "the Punk Rock Duck."
After that was Bob and Weave, Dodge, Dive, and Duck (haha) and many others I can't remember now.
So I highly recommend that if ever you need company, find a pond with some ducks.
You'll be glad you did.

A Sordid Affair

Alright America. I have a question for you.
When did it suddenly become okay in our culture to have an affair?
This is something that has REALLY been weighing heavily on my heart lately. It seems like everytime I turn around anymore another person has had an affair and it's no big deal!
I speak from personal experience here. I know two people who had an affair and the majority of their friends didn't utter one word of censure. In fact, they practically pretended it didn't happen.
Utterly unbelievable.
Back in Biblical times, adultery was against the law. If you committed adultery, you were stoned to death.
But in 2006 it seems like it's almost become a cool thing to brag about at the water cooler.
I cannot even begin to comprehend it.
For those of you who are Christian and have convinced yourself this is okay, I have only one thing to say to you-I don't want to hear any of your enlightened garbage-how else do you THINK you can interpret "Thou shalt not commit adultery?"
For those who aren't Christian, you still have no excuse. One of the core values that almost anyone of any faith, creed, or belief system agrees with is the age old "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." If you don't even believe in the golden rule, you are a discredit to our society.
I have personally witnessed several times how horribly affairs rip peoples lives apart and devastate them. Both times I prayed I would never have to watch anyone go through that kind of anguish ever again.
Come on America. Having an affair is not cool. It's hurtful and destructive. If we can't even be considerate of people's feelings, then we are doomed to become a selfish, narcissistic, spoiled nation.
I for one don't want to be around if that happens.

Jihad?

I've noticed in the course of my college career here on OSU campus that in several places the words God=Santa Claus for Adults has been stenciled on the ground.
I asked my husband, a former OSU graduate, where this came from and he told me that it's done by the group "Students for Freethought."
My husband went on to explain to me his first encounter with this group. (Keep in mind this was probably about 4 years ago.) Apparently he met them one day in the oval and was intrigued by their group name. My husband initially thought they were an organization who promoted tolerance or something equally interesting.
As my husband spoke to them though, he discovered that they were the local chapter of organized atheists. This lessened his interest slightly being that he is a devoted Christian, but he continued to listen to their speech.
From my understanding of his story the way they pitched their group to him was that basically you had to believe what they believed (there is no God) and that was the only free thought they promoted. I admit I laughed after he finished the story, and didn't have a very favorable impression of the group.
This is not the end of my story though.
I found out a few weeks later that my good friend's boyfriend, Jason, is a member of this group.
Both my friend and her boyfriend are serious atheists, and both are very intellectual and excellent people. Though we disagree in fundamentals (belief in God) we concur on many other subjects. Both of them have excellent moral codes that I admire, and I care about them both very much.
So what, as a Christian, should I think?
Before finding out that Jason was affiliated with this group, my first thought was naturally jihad. But then I remembered I am neither a fundamentalist Muslim nor a warhawk. (And let's face it, the Crusades were a ridicuously BAD idea.) Come to think of it, I'm a pacifist and can't even stand the war in Iraq. So I dropped that idea quicker than a hot potato.
My thoughts after realizing Jason was a member were more reflective and less reactionary in nature.
I considered the metaphor-God as Santa. I do believe God can see me when I'm sleeping, let alone when I'm awake. I know he knows if I've been bad or good and I DO try to be good for goodness sake (and for His). Hmmmm....Santa is a happy jolly guy. Albeit his fasion sense is a little off, but I certainly believe God could be as cheerful and loving as Santa, and as strict when you are bad (although I suspect God would give me a talking to instead of a lump of coal for bad behavior). And the image of God and Santa in popular culture seem to mesh well-white hair, white beard, etc. So I suppose this is not a HUGE insult.
Discarding being up in arms and being greatly offended I now wonder, is this religious persecution?
Hmmm....well I don't think it's meant to be nice. I mean it wouldn't be very nice if I stenciled Jews=Complaint without Reason or Atheism=Anger without Cause on the sidewalk (I realize not all atheists are angry, and my two friends are certainly excluded from this fecitious remark. I also apologize for the lack of clever stencil ideas and will try to do better next time). Still, I don't suppose it's as mean as a Jehovah Witnesses telling you that you aren't one of the 144,000, or your boyfriend's roomates harassing you because you don't drink or smoke.
But it bothers me a little bit. I guess the reason why is because to me it seems like a sign of religious intolerance. I don't think it's too much to ask that atheists and others respect my faith. I grew up Mormon, so I've already dealt with a lot of harassment in my life. Yet I can still honestly say that I try to be very tolerant of other faiths. I have two atheists, a former Jehovah Witness, a Hindu, and even a pagan for friends, and I'm pretty sure they'd all be willing to vouch that I'm a fairly tolerant person who respects their beliefs. (Well maybe not the former Jehovah Witness. He and I don't really hang out anymore since he had an affair.) I don't think it's too much to ask for the same courtesy in return.
But hey, it's a free country right? I fully expect to be harassed by much more than just the sidewalk for being a Christian.
I just hope that when I get up to Heaven, God isn't wearing a red hat. ;)

Lord Hall

Every Tuesday and Thursday on my way to class at OSU I walk by "Lord Hall." Recently I noticed that this is where the Department of Anthropology was housed.
Now this struck me as particularly amusing because I'm going to guess that 95% of anthropologists don't even believe in the Lord. Of course I realize this could be named for someone who's last name was Lord, or some Lord of the type who comes from ancient England, but either way I found it funny.
After a little thought on the subject, I would like to propose that OSU construct a building called "Darwin Hall" and relocate the religion department there post haste. That way the contradiction can be complete and I can have another source of amusement.
Until then, I will just have to entertain myself by cavorting with the ducks at Mirror Lake. ;)

Leave Narnia Alone

About a year ago I heard that some people wanted to re-release "The Chronicals of Narnia" with the Christian content removed from it. I was completely horrified at this thought.
Normally I would treat you all to another one of my rants, but I'm actually going to let an article do most of the talking for me. I found this on the Virtual Narnia Website. It's called "Narnia Declawed," and is an attempt at what "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" would be like after such a treatment. Here's what it said-

"Once there were four children whose names were Peter--oh, wait, he was a disciple. Keys to the kingdom and all that. Well, then: Once there were four children whose names were Percy, Susan--oops, that name's based on the Biblical Susanna. And wasn't there a Santa Lucia, too? So: Once there were four children whose names were Percy, Sybil, Edmund, and Lana. Moving right along, these four kids entered a magical land via armoire. There they became involved in an epic struggle of good versus evil--oh, wait, there's no such thing as absolutes. No one is all evil. The Witch is just misunderstood. She probably had an unhappy childhood. Oh, and we can't keep calling her the Witch. That implies censure. We'll call her pagan--no, that might remind people that there's an opposite to paganism, such as religion. Ah! We'll call her a Child of Nature. So, these four kids join forces with the local inhabitants and try to overthrow the Witch--er, Child of Nature (despite her very stable and mutually beneficial reign.) However, lacking any true leadership (That would mean Him, and we certainly can't include Him.), the children and other rebels soon are turned into overlarge paperweights. Huh, well, that won't sell. Let's try this: We'll include him, but only after a fashion. So, the children go to meet Aslan and Edmund is rescued. Then Nature Girl comes to claim the traitor, according to ancient law. Aslan, not being a type of Christ, cannot die and be resurrected, so he has to give Edmund back, to fulfill the law. Nature Girl kills Edmund (but he had it coming, after all), and the four thrones are never filled. No, no. That won't do. Well, how about this: Nature Girl comes to claim Edmund, and Aslan says, "No, that's just tough. You can't have him. I don't have to honor the law my old man put into Narnia years ago."--wait, that implies creation. Can't have that. Aha!: The Witch, er, Child of Nature, comes for Edmund, and Aslan eats her (So what if it was supposed to be a parley? Getting to eat your enemies during a truce is one of the beauties of situational ethics.). Everybody else lives happily ever after, including the wolves, hags, efreets, etc. who are shown the error of their ways and reintegrated into society. The four children, not satisfied with the concept of "divine right of kings," hold elections to see who will be the new president of Narnia. Some dwarf, who was never given fair opportunity for advancement in Nature Girl's regime, gets the job. The kids go back through the wardrobe. Book sales plummet. The End."
(this article can be found at http://www.thelionscall.com/humor/narnia_declawed.cfm?menu_parent_id=4&menu_item_id=55 if you want to check the website out)

What would be left of the story? The Christian themes are essential to the tales.
I mean,what if I were to say, " 'The Communist Manifesto' is too anti-religious for me. As a Christian I'm offended. Espeically that line about religion being 'the opium of the people.' That should be taken out entirely. Why don't we re-issue a version that's Christian friendly!" Wouldn't people laugh at that?
I don't understand why people can't leave literature alone. Instead they insist on re-interrpreting things in a way that pleases them (don't forget, Emma's gay!) or re-publishing things in a way that won't offend them.
I know I can't be too far off here in saying that this is silly because my friend, who is an atheist, agreed with me that it would be wrong to re-write C.S. Lewis' stories.
If it offends you, just don't read it. I promise you that here in America, that's still an option.

Is Emma Gay?

One more Jane Austen thought for the day and then I will cease and desist.
I have been recently reading a book called "The Friendly Jane Austen" that discusses everything you could ever hope for about Jane, the period her books were written in, and the material of the books themselves. While I have really been enjoying this book, I came upon a section called, "Is Emma Gay?"
The basis of the arguement for this was that Emma was UNDEINABLY a gay character because (are you ready for this) of the excessive admiration she gives in the book of her female friend.
Apparently, the real clincher for poor Emma's sexuality was when she described her friend Harriet's eyes as being partiularly beautiful.
Let me just say I am so sick of the revisiontists and their idiotic assumptios as they read into everything. I suppose if Jane Austen wrote about a man smoking a cigar, it would really be her way of talking about penises as well!
C'mon people!
The problem with those who make these conclusions is that they are taking what they read entirely out of context.
Fact is that back in those times, it was perfectly normal for a woman to admire her friend openly, and nobody even thought of questioning her sexuality.
This is very similar to the people who insist that the relationship between Frodo and Sam in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy is also homesexual.
Again, here lies the problem. At the time Tolkien wrote this, there was still a thing in the English culture called the "Master/Servant Relationship." I know this is going to sound shocking to some people, but apparently, the master and servent (both of the male persuasion) often had a very close relationship and there was nothing homosexual about it.
So to all those revisionsts out there, both as a history major and as a woman, I beg of you-before you jump to conclusions about the sexuality of my favorite literary characters, do your homework first. Please do not impose the standards of YOUR day and age upon time periods where they were not valid.
Although I hate to give you any more fodder for your presumtions, I am going to have to admit something to you right now. I have quite often and in public no less admired many of my female friends. I have so many beautiful girl friends (oh I said girlfriends, I MUST be gay) and cannot deny that I think they are very attractive. Despite this perplexity, I have a husband who would be more than willing to vouch to you of my firm and undeterring striaghtness. I am sorry to cause you pain, but I cannot deny this truth.
This, my dear readers, is a faithful narrative of all my feelings about my female friends. Make of it what you will. ;)

Mr. Darcy

Now it's time for some thoughts on Mr. Darcy. One thing I already know I won't be able to get away from on my blog is Jane Austen, and recently I had an epiphany.
For awhile I had been asking myself, why do women LOVE Mr. Darcy so incredibly much? Hmmm.....I mean at the beginning of the book he's very much a jerk. I myself have a personal adversion to jerks, so I know this is not the most attractive feature of a man. True he's a nice guy in the end, but why are so many women so completely crazy about this man?
I have come up with a theory. I thought it might be slightly original, but my husband quickly guessed it before I could even tell him what it is, so maybe it's not as ground breaking as I thought. Still, I'd like to share it with you.
I think most women are madly in love with the character of Mr. Darcy (aside from the denziens of females my mother's age who's real reason is just that Colin Firth played him in the BBC version, and they have selected him as their generation's sex symbol, but as I was saying) because Mr. Darcy is an example of a man who CHANGED for a woman.
Think about it. What is the number one goal for many women when they meet a man? That's right, they want to "change" him. Women are proactive. They think "If only I can change such and such, then he'll be the PERFECT man for me!"
So what's the problem with this? Well ladies, and I hate to break it to you, Mr. Darcy is different because he CHOSE to change for Elizabeth. The type of men you are trying to change are not going to do it of their own free will. For such a thing to be worthwhile, they are going to have to want to change on their own.
Women love Mr. Darcy because he is unattainable. The man who will CHANGE for them.
I'm sorry girls, but he's a literary character.
But fear not. We probably can't make men WANT to change for us as women, but we can use our brains and find men who are more compatible in the first place. The best men are the ones who don't need changing.
Anyone ever see Due South? =)

Thoughts on God, Love, and Jane Austen

Recently my friend and I debated the existence of God. During this debate I tried to come up with probable reasons as to why God existed, each of which my friend was deftly able to shoot down. When we finished, it was obvious my friend had the stronger arguments. But instead of making me question my Creator's existence, it prompted the following thoughts.
My friend's main argument was that it is not logical to believe in God. So why do I believe in him anyway?
I've realized that even if believing in God does not seem logical or rational, it still makes perfect sense in my life to believe in Him. Why is this?
I started to think about the sense in believing in something others would say is illogical. Why historically and in the present do so many human beings believe in God even though it appears to some not be logical? Should we as human beings always try to do what is rational? Will this give us the greatest amount of happiness?
I started thinking about love. In many ways love is the most illogical thing in this world. There is nothing rational about putting your heart out into the open so it is perfectly available to be hurt, trampled on, and pained. It doesn't make any sense to take such a risk. Being in love opens you up to all sorts of problems and disappointments. And yet human beings quite regularly submit themselves to love. Surely this defies all reason?
Why do people fall in love? Before I met the man I married, I myself was involved in two emotionally taxing relationships that caused me a lot of heartache and fear. Given the chance, would I take both of them back?
Definitely not. Why? It is certainly not logical for me to submit myself to pain. So what reason could I have for not wanting to erase these incidents? I believe it's because although the pain the relationships caused me was admittedly undesirable, the happiness that I experienced from being in love was far greater than any amount of hurt it caused.
I find a good way to explain this contradiction is by looking at Jane Auste's "Sense and Sensibility." Recently I read an article that explained how the two sisters in this book, Elinor and Marianne, represent two schools of thought common at that time. Elinor represents "sense" or in other words the type of reason exemplified by the Age of Enlightenment Ideals. Marianne on the other hand represents "sensibility" or the philosophy of action according to feeling as espoused by the Romantic period. Whenever I read this book, I encounter the same feelings about the sisters. Though I admire and respect Elinor greatly for her common sense and her logical mind, my heart relates better to Marianne every time. Why? Elinor is clearly more sensible and reasonable, while Marianne is often perceived as foolhardy and rash. But this does not change the fact that I always love Marianne better.
Does this make sense? Marianne after all has her heart ripped out due to her sensibility-led life, which leads her to fall for a man who turns out to be a rogue and a cad. But every time I read the book it seems to me that the joy she derives from the choices she makes are greater than the happiness that Elinor experiences. It may not be logical for Marianne to do what she does, given the amount of pain it causes her, but she truly seems to have the stronger amount of felicity in her life.
This, I think, illustrates why it makes sense for me to believe in God. It certainly does not always seem rational to do so, especially in a day and age where more and more Christians are harassed for believing in something with such an emotional connection, and for holding onto old morals so typically laughed at and derided for their close-mindedness. Does it therefore make sense to continue to believe in something that so many atheists and agnostics are able to point out the illogicality of? My answer is simple, though it may not work for everyone. For me, the decision to believe in God has made me a better person, given me a peace of mind from knowing I can obtain Salvation, and gifted my life with the greatest fulfillment I could wish for.
Is it logical to believe in God? Maybe not. But one must keep in mind that logic is a man-made system and, like man, is fallible. This is not to say that reason and logic do not have their place. Indeed, they are quite necessary for making many of the good decisions in our lives. I've also found that some arguements my friend deemed "illogical" still seem perfectly logical to me. Logic is often subjective in mankind's case. Therefore man certainly could not lead his life sucessfuly relying on logic alone. Without the illogical, the "sensibility" in life, we would not have things like the amazing music and beautiful works of art of the Romantic Period. And I'm sure anyone who's ever been in love will back me up in saying that sometimes it's okay to do something illogical. If we never give way to feeling, we can deny ourselves some of the greatest opportunities for joy. Believing in God may not seem rational, but for me it makes perfect sense.

Welcome and My First Rant

Welcome to my blog! The title is taken from the essay I wrote that will be my second post, but I feel it my duty to reserve a very special rant for my first post, as I can remain silent on the subject no longer.
For those of you who like Eric Clapton, I would like apologize now. I would like to, but I probably can't, because I have a bone to pick with those of you who have been floundering under what I consider one of the craziest misconceptions of all time. Let me just go ahead and say it-
"Wonderful Tonight" is NOT a romantic song!
Time after time again it appals me to watch people dance to this at weddings, proms, etc. with tearful reactions and ill-informed sentimentality. For my own personal sanity I must asume that those of you responsible have never bothered to listen to the lyrics.
If you had, perhaps you would realize that the song is NOT about how wonderful Eric Clapton thinks his lovely lady is, but about how, the drunker he gets the better she looks to him. I'm not quite sure either what is so romantic about the fact that she has to drive him home at the end of the song because he is so trashed.
Now I will admit that to many college students (and going to OSU I can speak from personal experience here) this could possibly BE the ideal of romance. But for those of use who are either too young to even be drinking legally (I can tell you for a fact that they played it at the Gahanna Lincoln High School Prom) or those of us who are past the days of throwing up in a toilet for kicks, there should not be anything romantic about this song.
This is not meant as a personal attack against Mr. Clapton himself. Although I personally do not like his singing voice, I admit that "Layla", both slow and fast versions, is an extremely catchy song, that I cannot help but sing along with "Coccaine," and that I DO in fact find his newer song "Blue Eyes Blue" particularly poetic. However, this does not excuse those of you dancing the first dance at your wedding-and you know who you are-to "Wonderful Tonight" with mooney eyes and happy sighs.
All I ask people, is that you know what you're about.
"Wonderful Tonight" is a college boy's anthem. It is not romantic.