No Radio Star here!

You know those moments when you have a significant “first” and it could potentially be a pretty cool thing, but for you it usually just ends up being uncomfortable/embarrassing/awkward/all of the above? Yeah, so had one of those today… in my (just guess which class I’m going to talk about!) fairy tale seminar, we had the opportunity to go and do a little “radio show” together. It was for BYU’s program, the Appleseed. Sounds cool, right? We were going to talk about “defining moments.” And obviously a lot of defining moments of my life, I don’t really feel the necessity nay desire to share with random people on the radio… this made it even more difficult to find the right moment to share. I’m not really good at the serious/sweet/sentimental moments but I’m also not one of those like “funny people” that can share a story about a shoelace and be funny. I had to think hard about what moment was the right mix of clever, slightly inspiring, not too personal, but not too sappy. Finally, the right moment came to mind… a moment that I couldn’t believe I had almost forgotten because it was truly a ridiculous moment of my life. But the part that made it not-so-cool and not-so-great, is that I was the only person who wrote mine down… because apparently I’m that student. The guy at the radio place even was like, “So I can’t help but notice you wrote yours down… why?” I told him it was because I was worried that if I didn’t have some notes I would be too worried about A) reliving my karaoke days with the mic so dangerously close and B)waxing loquacious because I am an English major and we love our words..

And I feel a little guilty right now that I’m using this time to write a blog post… because I have a lot of “actual” writing to do. “Academic” writing or something like that. A lot of times when I have big writing assignments due (like every week), I find myself wanting to engage in various activities like blogging (or sometimes I read things for class because I tell myself they will help “stimulate” my brain… never works…). I always thought these were like “avoidance tactics” but this semester I have actually discovered that some people consider such writing not just avoidance, but as a legitimate writing strategy. All those years of guilt-blogging ended because suddenly, research has justified my blogging. Sometimes in order to write, you gotta clear the mind a little bit, get rid of distractions and sort out those cluttered boxes of the mind. And sometimes blogging just helps me do that. I write this to appease my guilty conscience… but I also believe it is mostly true. Which is slightly more positive than being mostly dead… I have also made some bold moves this week and removed myself from the dark and cold confines of the library and have taken to hunchbacking-it-up (and yes I did just make that a verb) in the nice weather on the top of the JFSB. Also a convenient location if the writing goes horribly… I won’t elaborate on that one, but if you catch the twisted humor, points to you. Perhaps your heart is as black as mine…

Enjoy it or don’t, but this is the moment I shared on the radio!

When I heard we were going to be talking about defining moments, I immediately went to dictionary.com, the fount of all wisdom and knowledge. Yeah, so I’m that kind of a person. You know, the kind that gets assigned some topic and then immediately looks up the definition. I speak for the other people like me in saying that I think we do it in the hopes that something we read about a word or phrase we have long-known will suddenly help our brain come up with lots of different and really awesome things to say. Usually, it does not happen like that, but as I looked up “defining moments” I did actually like what I read and being the type of person that looks things up in the dictionary, I’m also the type to share what I learned, which is the following, a defining moment is “a point in which the essential nature or character of a person is revealed or identified or an occurrence that typifies or determines all related events that follow.” 

I like the part that mentioned these moments often “reveal” who we already are. And as I think about all of that, I find myself remembering this funeral I went to when I was younger. It was the funeral of my mom’s second cousin, or second uncle or something like that. My fake uncle, perhaps. She promised we were related, but I wasn’t so sure, considering our contact with “Uncle ron” had been very minimal. Lack of depth in our relationship, however, did not hinder my mother in begging me to please go with her to this funeral. And as the ever-dutiful daughter, I went. And it is a good thing I did. Because partway through the services, Uncle Ronnie’s friend got up, guitar in hand, and sang a tearful version of “Wind beneath my wings.” In that moment I realized that there are two kinds of people in this world: those that sing “Wind beneath my wings” ά la Bette Midler in tough moments and those that don’t.

Fast forward a few more years and I was a junior in high school. Uncle Ronnie was long gone, and I found myself running for student body president. I was wearing a blue cowboy hat and dressed in as much orange and blue as you could possibly imagine (those were, of course, our school colors) and I was participating in an unusual form of torture called “the elections assembly.” This is a form of humiliation designed by the current student government to publicly haze the potentials for the future student government to see how far they are willing to go to win the election. After participating in a number of really inspirational skits and things, I listened as the current president announced to the entire school that the other candidate for president and I would then be given a few minutes for an impromptu speech. With my cowboy hat and all, I found out quickly that of those two types of people, I was the kind that sang ‘wind beneath my wings” little or no resemblance to Bette Midler in tough situations. I sometimes wonder if the current president has since had such a personal and public rendition of that song…

Just as dictionary.com says, these defining moments are those that “reveal the essential character of a person” and I had just revealed myself as the type of person that First) maybe has no shame and second) will do just about anything, no matter how ridiculous, to help me reach my dreams. Despite my awful singing voice, and that embarrassing display, I won the election and then had many more such opportunities to display my shamelessness. I will always be very closet proud that I helped capes come back that year. Don’t worry, the cape was a spirit cape. I think of this moment and the words of Sinbad, and that would be Sinbad the comedian, not the legendary sailor, “there’s no one defining moment that kills you or makes you.” And I look forward to a lot more shenanigans and absurd moments in my life, with or without a cowboy hat, as I try to dream big and reach for the stars….

And then I sat down so that (like I said before) I wouldn’t be tempted to start singing “Wind beneath my wings” in a very dramatic manner… Also, just a sidenote for those who didn’t know me in high school, I feel it only fair to clarify that I really did wear a cape, but it was TOTALLY COOL. If you don’t believe me, I have pictures to prove it. Though I probably shouldn’t admit that either… 

Tis the Season... for LOVE POETRY!!!

Darcy: I thought that poetry was the food of love.

Elizabeth: Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I’m convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.

Not untrue. And perfect set-up for a great zing on Elizabeth's part. Or a "zing-back," if you will (if you don't know what I'm talking about, you should probs go watch Pride&Prej). I don’t think I have ever had this exact experience as described by Elizabeth, what with the “vague inclination” and the guy writing lousy poetry. But one time there was this guy who would write little “sweet nothings” on tennis balls and put them in my backpack because he knew I played tennis… I figure that is similar to the whole “bad poetry” thing… it had the same negative outcome, but like I said.. he didn’t even have “vague inclination” going for him… 

So anyway, back to the Darcy and Elizabeth dialogue... this week I encountered some really awesome “love poetry” in one of my classes and it was too good to not share. I was chuckling wholeheartedly, even guffawing, at these. And I will also include some that were actually just sweet. Or, at least, I thought they were sweet. I would also just like to say that the professor that wrote/shared these poems is probably one of the best people to ever walk the face of this earth. I am a huge fan and I am also grateful that he is letting me share some of his work.  He likes to write poetry for a genre called “Bad” where you write awful poems that are awful because they shamelessly abuse the normal poetic rules and styles etc. As opposed to “bad” poetry where you are just trying to be good and fail miserably. Both can be entertaining. He is also very good at writing clerihews. And lots of other things. Just for the record. 

(and if you slowly get bored with the poems, at least just skip down to the bottom, cuz my favorite poem is at the end! and since i know you guys all care about my favorite poem....) 

The first one is a special genre called “Zombie Haiku”

REGRET

When you gave me your

heart, valentine, you should have

known I was hungry

Tell me that isn’t some quality valentines poetry?!!!

Now, this next one is more akin to the “tennis-balls-in-backpack” scenario:

SARAN WRAP

       Fifth grade.

       School lunch.

I was PB&J on whole

                          Wheat

You were Twinkies and Velveeta

                          Cheese.

When I wasn’t looking you stole my heart with

                           ease.

All I wanted to do was

                            Eat,

But you filched my love without even a

                            Please.

Turned out you, you were a pernicious

                            cheat,

Just like cellophane on a blustery day.

For all the guys of the world…

ENTICER

A married man who begs his friend,

A bachelor, to wed and end

    His lonesome, sorry state,

Is like a bather in the sea,

Goose-pimpled, blue from neck to knee,

     Who cries, “The water’s great!”

Just some lovin' goodness here…

AMOR-A

How can the heart be an organ?

It’s got no keyboard.

No foot pedals.

No music stand.

It can’t play a hymn or a jazzy tune.

But, my dear, my heart has rhythm,

and it beats for you.

I’ll admit, this one is a little sketch, but I thought it was just sketch enough to be entertaining. And it is Stephen Crane. It remind me of Miss Havisham in a way, and she has long been a hero of mine… “BROKEN!” (Name that classic Dickens novel!!)

THE HEART

In the desert

I saw a creature, naked, bestial,

Who, squatting upon the ground,

Held his heart in his hands,

And ate of it.

I said, “Is it good, friend?”

“It is bitter –bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it

Because it is bitter,

And because it is my heart.”

And on that note… I figure it is probably about time for some “nice” poems, eh?

I thought this was really sweet.

ME FIRST

Knowing that a thousand years

are but a day in God’s reckoning,

can you blame me, Love,

for selfishly hoping to go first?

That way, I’ll endure only

seconds,

not years,

without you.

  

Or how about this classic from Emily Dickinson.

Heart, We Will Forget Him

Heart, we will forget him,

You and I, tonight!

You must forget the warmth he gave,

I will forget the light.

When you have done pray tell me,

Then I, my thoughts will dim.

Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging

I may remember him!

This last one has long been a favorite. I’m not usually a big fan of metaphysical poetry, but John Donne wrote this for his wife, Anne. If I remember correctly, he was travelling and would be away for some time…. and he uses a drafting compass as a comparison for their love.

Like this…   

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.

(okay, I know it looks long.. but it is worth it!! promise!!!) 

AS virtuous men pass mildly away,

   And whisper to their souls to go,

Whilst some of their sad friends do say,

    “Now his breath goes,” and some say,

“No.”

So let us melt, and make no

Noise,

      No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;

“Twere profanation of our joys

      To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th’earth brings harms and fears;

    Men reckon what it did, and meant

But trepidation of the spheres,

     Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers’ love

    ----Whose soul is sense----cannot admit

Of absence, ‘cause it doth

remove

     The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,

     That ourselves know not what it is,

Inter-assured of the mind,

      Care less, eyes, lips and hands to

miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,

       Though I must go, endure not yet

A breach, but an expansion,

       Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two

So

      As stiff twin compasses are two;

Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show

     To move, but doth, if th’ other do.

And though it in the centre sit,

    Yet, when the other far doth

roam,

It leans, and hearkens after it,

      And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,

      Like th’ other foot, obliquely run;

Thy firmness makes my circle

just,

      And makes me end where I begun.

   And let's just end with this little treasure... 

Love is patient 

Love is kind... 

Love, is slowly losing your mind! 

Happy Valentine's DAY!!! 

HEA's and MAWAGE

So… usually when I blog I tend to steer away from controversial topics, or note-worthy topics, so as to, obviously, avoid controversy.  For whatever reason I just don’t have that burning desire to get into debates and stuff. Unless you want to diss Shakespeare. Bring it. Just kidding. It is much more fun to relate unimportant, hopefully entertaining moments from my life that end with some sort of “moral” or “learning experience.” Whatever you want to call it. But I am actually going to talk (or, rather, write) about something a little bit more “important” today. At least it is important to me. Now with that preface, I will say that I am not writing this with the hopes of sparking controversy -I was trying to explain that my opinions are my own and I don’t expect anybody to agree with them and if anything, I hope the topic will just allow for some personal reflection/introspection. I know it helped me do a little bit of that! I also admit that I will be making some generalizations and doing some stereotyping, and I am aware of that. I know that the things talked about are not “the law” and are not the absolute truth. There are exceptions to everything discussed and I am aware. NO JUDGMENT HERE!!! SAFE ZONE. You have been warned. And you should only proceed to read if you really want to:) 

I am in a fairytale class (and I LOVE IT and you should NEVER ask me about it because then you will find out WAY more about the topic than you EVER wanted to know even though it isn’t even POSSIBLE to know more about fairytales than you would want to know because fairytales are great. Actually, you can ask me about the class and I promise I will just say something trite like “I love it” but then you should avoid asking ANY FOLLOW-UP questions because then I will take that as an invitation to blabber. On and on and on. And on. And yeah, I know, who even KNEW there was such a thing as a FAIRTYALE CLASS. I’m over it. NOT. I’LL NEVER BE OVER IT. I love it like I loved Shakespeare class and WE EVEN GET TO READ SHAKESPEARE IN THE CLASS. #dreamsdocometrue#happilyeverafter#dontneedafairygodmotherhere). And in this fairytale class, obviously there are a lot of stories that we read with the perfect “happily ever after.” Known to us ‘talers’ as an “HEA.” Yeah, we are that cool, don’t even worry about it.

But, in reading these tales one thing becomes pretty clear: EVERYBODY is just looking for that HEA. Not all HEA’s are the same, but everyone wants one. And there is no shame in that, because it is an HEA after-all. Who wouldn’t want an HEA? In fairytale land, everybody does. Now let us define, shall we, the stereotypical HEA. AND STEREOTYPES ARE STEREOTYPES FOR A REASON. No shame in stereotypes. Unless they are really shameful ones. But I digress… (anybody get that reference? Not from a movie but a famous Russian writer... rhymes with Schmostoyevsky.) Anyway, the typical fairytale HEA includes boy and girl that overcome various difficulties (like the fact that they don’t even know each other) and hardships (like the fact that they don’t even know each other) and trials (dragons, long-term narcolepsy, crazy family drama) and end up participating in the m-word. (And no, we are not speaking of mutiny. Or a mangonel. Or mascalephidrosis. Or even mammon. Though those are all unfortunate “m” words). I’m talking about mawage. Mawage is what brings us here together today. And wuv, trew wuv. (name that movie, though it is wayyy tooooo easy.) 

As I write this, I can’t help but feel that some people are thinking, “she is wrong, I legitimately don’t want to get married. No HEA for me. No thank you.” And that may be true. But I would also suggest that you are the exception, and not the rule. Because if you weren’t the rule then I wouldn’t hear so many guys/girls walking around campus lamenting their love lives, or lack thereof. If people didn’t care, why would they get so frustrated that “so and so” didn’t call or “can’t make up their mind” etc etc. They would maybe never say, “I am frustrated with my love life because I want to get married and this relationship isn’t helping me out much.” But in their hearts that is the reality. There are a plethora of frustrations. That I do know. But it’s only frustrating because we want that HEA.  AND THAT IS OKAY TO WANT.

Sometimes you are a missionary and you live in black and white. You know marriage is a good thing that you do NOT have to worry about. Then sometimes you aren’t a missionary anymore and you remember that marriage is a good thing, but everybody around you (or most the people), have all these different opinions. Except actual married people. Actual married people want it for everybody else. But the rest of the people like to pretend, or have forgotten temporarily, that they want that HEA too. Marriage has become like this super uncool “goal” that nobody wants, except for the few people who actually own up to wanting it who end up getting scorned for their honesty.

 Think about the girls you know (or think you know) that admittedly WANT TO GET MARRIED. What are the stereotypes surrounding these girls? Now I am going to make a list, but just remember these aren’t my opinions, but the stereotypes for the category, okay? These are the girls that bake and sew and love kids (they want ten!) and maybe even love giving massages…let’s be real, they are often made fun of and then put into a category where their IQ drops. Just because they are brave enough to admit that they want to get married. And they come in direct contrast to the girls that CLEARLY DON’T  WANT to get married because they don’t cook, they plan on going to graduate school, they sometimes want to be doctors, they like studying.  All of those things CLEARLY suggest that for them career comes first, family after. Who has time for babies when you are going to be the youngest [fill-in-the-blank-awesome-accomplishment]. No man will stand in her way. It may be a man’s world, but she is going to beat them at their own game. And let’s not forget the “other category” of “not homemaker” and “not academic.” Not sure what to call it… but this is the girl that is always up for a party. Why would she have to have one guy when she could have ten?! We mock category one, we are sometimes of afraid of category two, and we don’t ever commit to category three. But do categories two and three want to get married even if they aren’t broadcasting it like category one? Yes. (Again, not the LAW. Just a generalization of my observations). They are just afraid of getting put into category one. Because when you have a lower IQ you don’t get into med school.

Don’t worry, I won’t leave the gentlemen out of the fun. There are those guys that self-proclaimedly WANT to get married. We all know they are creeps. (Again, these are the stereotypes speaking, not me). They bought their ring on their mission and aren’t that picky about who they give it to, just as long as she can bake! Their mission president maybe said something like “be married in the next five months” and they took that as law. They will do what it takes. STEER CLEAR!!! And that, of course, is in direct opposition to the “too busy” guy. “Oh, I’ll get married eventually,” he says. “But right now I just need to focus on…” He is wayyy too coooooll, tooo busy to get married. Wouldn’t even entertain the possibility. Girls think they can change that. Usually they can’t. And let’s not forget the “best friend” who spends so much time with girls we wonder why HE of ALL people doesn’t want to get married….

The point, however, isn’t to discuss all of the various stereotypes of boys and girls and the kinds of “daters” or not they are, but rather to emphasize the fact that people that actually WANT to get married are often put in that “sad category.” They become “Molly Mormon” and “Peter Priesthood.” Just because they are trying to follow the plan. And that is where the missionary black/white comes in. Marriage is a part of God’s plan. For everyone. Period.  And usually such bold statements accompany various opinions and “what if” scenarios, and obviously there are circumstances where marriage doesn’t happen for everyone. And I get that. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t an encouraged and critical part of the plan. The purpose of the blog isn’t to discuss people that haven’t gotten married, and extenuating circumstances

Now you are asking what the purpose is and I guess that means I should probably tell you my purpose… and I wish there were an easy way to sum it up. But the line comes to mind, “What e’er thou art, act well thy part.” I believe that one of the “parts” we have been given in this life is to be in a marriage. And part of acting that part well is not being ashamed to recognize the part and striving to start acting the part. And that includes sometimes putting your pride at risk, your heart at risk, even your reputation at risk. Why do we not want to admit that we ACTUALLY WANT TO GET MARRIED?! That is the point of this post, to ponder upon the reasons that wanting to be married is viewed as such a shameful mindset. I would say probably because we don’t want to risk the above things. We would never want people to KNOW that we want to get married and then have them see us remain single. How shameful! Or, we would never want a significant other to tell us that they don’t actually want to get married when we do. Ouch. Or, if we end up being really successful at something and people know we want to get married, it becomes because “we couldn’t get married.” Obviously nobody could ever accomplish anything if they wanted to get married too. And I have been guilty of this mentality too. Pretending that I don’t want to get married because I had “things” I wanted to do. And in my mind the things I wanted to do did not go along with marriage. Or at least that was how it was in my mind. In reality, I always wanted to get married, but I never wanted to be “that girl.” THAT girl that WANTS to get married. Because we all know what THAT means. (see above list)

Consider this for a second. If this blog were written by a guy, a really cool guy even, who admitted, “I want to get married,” what would reactions be? You KNOW girls would all be trying to figure out who it is and then they would be queuing up to be the next potential. But, being a girl who is not particularly cool, and writing this blog, what does that say about me? What conclusions will be drawn? That I’m desperate, perhaps? That my career isn’t promising and I would do anything to avoid the future I have picked out for myself? Or, maybe that I am sick of getting rejected? Maybe I am THAT girl. 

Or MAYBE, when I meet a right guy, I can become THAT girl. Which I think is probably the truth of it. We refuse to wear our hearts on our sleeves until we meet the right person for our HEA. And then once we do, it is okay to be THAT person. You know, the kind that wants to get married. Because you now have another THAT person. But I am going to be a THAT person now. Heart recklessly on my sleeve today. 

I’m Tara. I am a returned missionary and saying that makes me feel old.  I like musicals and I was really bummed that they got rid of "showtunes saturday night" while I was on my mission. I have some really great friends. My family is awesome. I am going to be a teacher in the near future, and in the far future I have no idea where I'll end up or what I'll end up doing -and that is okay. The possibilities are endless and they keep life exciting. The sky has always been the limit. Sometimes that has led to some really awful, falling-without-a-parachute-moments. But mostly it has led to some great learning experiences. If I never got married, I would do a lot of really cool things and I would have a lot of great adventures, which is why I am in no rush to get married. Or, I should say, "I don't mind being patient until I find my THAT person." But, I want to get married. And I am willing to admit that. Sometimes, probably like a lot of us, I am worried that it won’t ever happen, or that it will be very far off. And that is okay. Because I like what I am doing, and one day it will probably even be hard for me to give up some of what I am doing now. Those hopes and dreams that get me up in the morning and keep me up late will maybe need to be partially-abandoned one day.  And that is okay. Because someday I want to be Mrs. Not-Pearce. I want my HEA.