The more I listen to the radio, the more I wonder why anyone would want to. I cringe when I hear half of the songs playing these days. One such song that makes my job as a caregiver especially difficult is "Sexy Chick" by David Guetta. Jeremy, my 9-year old, loves this song. I try to instill in both boys that this is an inappropriate way to talk to and/or about women; it objectifies them. When I mentioned this to an (unchurched) acquaintance, he was taken aback. "Haven't past boyfriends said stuff like that to you?" he asked me. I couldn't really remember any specific instances, no. I mean, Chris had probably told me I was beautiful and the other two had told me I looked nice on certain occasions. None had told me I was sexy. "Didn't that seem like a red flag to you?" he wondered. He was surprised when I told him it hadn't. After all, I don't think of myself in those terms.
In 1 Peter, we're told that our "beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." Proverbs reminds us that "charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting." In fact, not one description of the Proverbs 31 woman, "a wife of noble character...worth far more than rubies" is about her looks. She is generous, industrious, selfless, supportive, helpful, wise, domestically-able, strong, dignified, and loved; she is quite a woman, the role-model for Christian girls everywhere. But is she beautiful? Sexy? She could be painfully plain, for all Solomon says about her appearance. Plain on the outside, that is, for she possesses the beauty valued by the Lord: internal beauty.
Maybe this is why I never worried about being told I was beautiful or trying to seem sexy; these things aren't what I've been taught to value. When I think about attributes I hope for in my future husband, looks aren't the first thing on the list; I don't think they're even in the top five. I'm sure to do so is almost unreasonably idealistic, but I hope that others feel the same way. Or perhaps I should say that I hope anyone interested in me feels the same way. I had a thing with a boy once who didn't think I was very smart, at least not as smart as he. This was one of the boys who probably didn't tell me I was beautiful. In all honesty, his low estimation of my intelligence bothered me more than the fact that he didn't find me remarkably attractive. After all, being smart is one of the things I have been known to use to measure value.
I want people to see in me things that actually matter, like love, joy, peace, patience, etc. Striving for external beauty takes time we should be devoting to developing internal beauty, the kind that ISN'T fleeting. Dressing in a certain manner so as to garner attention communicates that your looks is the most important thing you have to offer. I'd like to think that I'm deeper than that and would like for people to be able to see it. I'm valuable in a way that isn't deceptive. Am I a "sexy chick"? Not exactly... and thank goodness for that!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Eternal Sunshine?
Tennyson said that it's "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Shouldn't there be a footnote in there somewhere, though? Shouldn't the quote read something like, "it's *SOMETIMES* better to have loved and lost..."? After seeing the movie that's namesake to this entry, I had to consider what it would mean if what they proposed was actually possible. I thought back to boys like Chris, Josh, and Kyle and couldn't help but wonder if I would employ the services of Dr. Mierzwaik to erase the memories of those loves lost. I mean, I'm not the type to regret my past and the lessons it's taught me. It's difficult to say, though, that I wouldn't at least be tempted to erase some of the memories of times where my heart's been hurt or the people and situations that have caused more than a few crocodile tears to fall. Even if it ended badly, though, it doesn't mean it was always bad. Of course that's not true! That's what Joel and Clementine realized; life has good mixed with bad. If you're going to erase the memory of someone, you'll surely rid yourself of the bad, but will have to give back the good too. Even if actual good may be hard to identify when you've been crushed, it is still there. Even if the only good is that you now know what not to do the next time, that's worth something. If I'm being honest, I'd say that only one of the aforementioned boys brought more bad than good. Even then, I can't say for certain that I'd want to erase him. After all, he's become fodder for my pseudo-creative ramblings. :)
"Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders."
--Nietzsche
Garth Brooks song:
"And now I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end, the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance; I could've missed the pain, but I'd've had to miss the dance."
Trisha Yearwood song:
"It's bittersweet to look back now at memories withered on the vine. But just to hold you close to me for a moment in time, I would've loved you anyway. I'd do it all the same, not a second I would change, not a touch that I would trade. Had I known my heart would break, I'd have loved you anyway."
well... maybe :)
"Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders."
--Nietzsche
Garth Brooks song:
"And now I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end, the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance; I could've missed the pain, but I'd've had to miss the dance."
Trisha Yearwood song:
"It's bittersweet to look back now at memories withered on the vine. But just to hold you close to me for a moment in time, I would've loved you anyway. I'd do it all the same, not a second I would change, not a touch that I would trade. Had I known my heart would break, I'd have loved you anyway."
well... maybe :)
a covenant with my body
So, I always figured myself a virgin by choice. I had never even questioned whether or not I would wait for marriage, having been raised to expect to do so. I was so convinced of my stalwart status, in fact, that I would scoff at friends who told me that they had to intentionally act in such a manner so as not to invite temptation, going as far as to avoid being alone with the person they were dating. I secretly (and not-so-secretly) thought it was ridiculous to have such little faith in one's self control.
Then I woke up and joined the rest of my generation.
Two weeks ago, I was standing in Times Square around midnight, talking with a nice guy. He asked me on a date for that Saturday. He was cute so I figured "what the heck." We met for dinner a few days later and then went back to his apartment. I know what you must be thinking, but nothing happened. Over the next five hours, we talked about almost everything: religion, money, personal history, etc. The only "forbidden" topic we didn't discuss was politics. :) We talked about my being a 23-year old virgin and his being a 21-year old non-virgin. I explained my reason for abstaining from the many things that make up the no-can-do list. We had almost nothing in common (and even THAT is likely a generous assessment), but he was so easy to talk to and seemed so interested in me as someone so completely foreign to him. It was clear we had no romantic future, though; we were just too different.
During the course of the conversation, I mentioned that I had hoped he would kiss me at midnight on Thursday, as one of the things on my list is to kiss a stranger. It had apparently crossed his mind, but the presence of my parents had dissuaded him. :) Later that night, though, he did kiss me when he walked me back to the the ferry; it was a very generic, two-second kiss. I told him as much when he called to talk on Monday night. He asked me what I had expected and I admitted that it hadn't been more than that, seeing as we were in public. The conversation progressed and we both concluded that we had missed an opportunity earlier. To make a long story short, we made an arrangement to meet for a tryst later in the week. We went as far as to agree upon ground rules for the interaction so as to set some sort of limits for this NCMO (non-committed make-out) session.
The next day, though, I started to have second thoughts. I mean, was this really a good idea? Well, I wasn't so sure. The first red flag was where I had to go for advice. I didn't feel like I could talk to any of my friends because I was worried about how even considering such an arrangement would paint me as a scarlet woman. I didn't feel like I could pray about it either, because, truthfully, I already knew what God's answer would be and it seemed like one of those times where it's easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. I went to google for advice, therefore, and came up only a little confused. While one source said that it would probably be no big deal and actually not a terrible way to blow off steam, the overwhelming majority told me to steer clear. I then decided to bite the bullet and talk it out with a good friend. We talked... and talked... and talked! After several hours, I don't know that I felt any less unsure. In fact, I was more mixed up then ever. Then, she said exactly what I needed to hear. To sum it up, she told me that whatever I was looking for wouldn't be found in the arms of a near stranger. Hooking up with this guy wasn't going to make me feel any prettier, more special, or better about myself. The reassurance I needed couldn't possibly come in this way.
Well, to put an end to your suspense, I didn't go through with the fling. In the end, my friend was right; far from feeling better about myself, hooking up with Mike was going to make me feel worse. I already felt guilty and hadn't even done anything yet! At the end of the day, I just wasn't ready to throw away 5+ years of semi-intentional purity. For what? To feel valued for an hour by someone I didn't even respect? To be honest, I think the thing that scared me most was the idea of what I might do in the heat of the moment. As it was, I'd already agreed to certain things that were completely out of character, and that had only been in the context of a heated conversation. Call me sentimental, but I have an affinity for firsts. When I think about the first time I touch someone and they touch me, I want to be able to say it was with my husband. I certainly never imagined that very important first to be with someone I hardly knew.
Just as Job made a covenant with his eyes, I've made a covenant with my body not to cheapen it with immoral behavior and the caresses of any man besides the one set aside for me in God's perfect will. If this experience has taught me anything, it's that I've been over-confident in the strength of my resolve. I've been humbled to be able to appreciate the struggles not uncommon to those of us in our youth. I can only pray to be strengthened in the covenant and to trust in the Lord's provision which fulfills completely instead of chasing the fleeting offerings of the world. In the meantime... well, I'll be waiting. :)
Then I woke up and joined the rest of my generation.
Two weeks ago, I was standing in Times Square around midnight, talking with a nice guy. He asked me on a date for that Saturday. He was cute so I figured "what the heck." We met for dinner a few days later and then went back to his apartment. I know what you must be thinking, but nothing happened. Over the next five hours, we talked about almost everything: religion, money, personal history, etc. The only "forbidden" topic we didn't discuss was politics. :) We talked about my being a 23-year old virgin and his being a 21-year old non-virgin. I explained my reason for abstaining from the many things that make up the no-can-do list. We had almost nothing in common (and even THAT is likely a generous assessment), but he was so easy to talk to and seemed so interested in me as someone so completely foreign to him. It was clear we had no romantic future, though; we were just too different.
During the course of the conversation, I mentioned that I had hoped he would kiss me at midnight on Thursday, as one of the things on my list is to kiss a stranger. It had apparently crossed his mind, but the presence of my parents had dissuaded him. :) Later that night, though, he did kiss me when he walked me back to the the ferry; it was a very generic, two-second kiss. I told him as much when he called to talk on Monday night. He asked me what I had expected and I admitted that it hadn't been more than that, seeing as we were in public. The conversation progressed and we both concluded that we had missed an opportunity earlier. To make a long story short, we made an arrangement to meet for a tryst later in the week. We went as far as to agree upon ground rules for the interaction so as to set some sort of limits for this NCMO (non-committed make-out) session.
The next day, though, I started to have second thoughts. I mean, was this really a good idea? Well, I wasn't so sure. The first red flag was where I had to go for advice. I didn't feel like I could talk to any of my friends because I was worried about how even considering such an arrangement would paint me as a scarlet woman. I didn't feel like I could pray about it either, because, truthfully, I already knew what God's answer would be and it seemed like one of those times where it's easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. I went to google for advice, therefore, and came up only a little confused. While one source said that it would probably be no big deal and actually not a terrible way to blow off steam, the overwhelming majority told me to steer clear. I then decided to bite the bullet and talk it out with a good friend. We talked... and talked... and talked! After several hours, I don't know that I felt any less unsure. In fact, I was more mixed up then ever. Then, she said exactly what I needed to hear. To sum it up, she told me that whatever I was looking for wouldn't be found in the arms of a near stranger. Hooking up with this guy wasn't going to make me feel any prettier, more special, or better about myself. The reassurance I needed couldn't possibly come in this way.
Well, to put an end to your suspense, I didn't go through with the fling. In the end, my friend was right; far from feeling better about myself, hooking up with Mike was going to make me feel worse. I already felt guilty and hadn't even done anything yet! At the end of the day, I just wasn't ready to throw away 5+ years of semi-intentional purity. For what? To feel valued for an hour by someone I didn't even respect? To be honest, I think the thing that scared me most was the idea of what I might do in the heat of the moment. As it was, I'd already agreed to certain things that were completely out of character, and that had only been in the context of a heated conversation. Call me sentimental, but I have an affinity for firsts. When I think about the first time I touch someone and they touch me, I want to be able to say it was with my husband. I certainly never imagined that very important first to be with someone I hardly knew.
Just as Job made a covenant with his eyes, I've made a covenant with my body not to cheapen it with immoral behavior and the caresses of any man besides the one set aside for me in God's perfect will. If this experience has taught me anything, it's that I've been over-confident in the strength of my resolve. I've been humbled to be able to appreciate the struggles not uncommon to those of us in our youth. I can only pray to be strengthened in the covenant and to trust in the Lord's provision which fulfills completely instead of chasing the fleeting offerings of the world. In the meantime... well, I'll be waiting. :)
then... and now
so, now that you have the back-story, I'll be posting new stuff from here on out. In fact, I already have the first one written and we'll post it tomorrow. :) Thanks for reading
Life for Rent
originally posted April 9, 2009
"I’ve never really found a place that I call home; I never stick around quite long enough to make it. I apologize, but once again I’m not in love but it’s not as if I mind that your heart aint exactly breaking."
Home is where the heart is, right? Well, what if you’re not quite where that is? The transience forced on me as a child is now being chosen by me as an adult and I’m left to wrestle with what that means for me and my life. I’ve been in New Jersey for a little more than eight months and I’m already feeling that itch for a change of scenery. I’m anxious for a change I must wait for. It’s weird, though, because I’m in a love/hate relationship with this wanderlust of mine. I love the adventure and the "newness." When asked how NJ was the other day, I said, "it’s my life’s pursuit: a different place with different people." In the same breath, though, I’m unsure. "I wonder someimes about the outcome of a still-verdictless life." sings John Mayer, and rightfully so! People ask me what I will do eventually, when all my "running around" is done and I haven’t a clue. I hope to be married by then, but what if I’m not? I don’t really worry about how I will support myself; I have lots of marketable skills and my standard-of-living expectations are really quite modest. I think, more than anything, I worry about how I will feel. I already feel this sense of disconnect from others. "Everybody’s just a stranger, but that’s the danger of going my own way; I guess it’s the price I have to pay." I’m coming to believe that my natural tendency is towards being a hermit and that my life is filled with "situational" friends; in this time and this place, this situation, we are friends. I don’t like this and I fear where this will find me in ten, fifteen, twenty years. It’s difficult to reconcile these things, urge and anxiety. It’s the "stirring in my soul" against the mumblings in my head...
"If my life is for rent and I don’t learn to buy, I deserve nothing more than I get because nothing I have is truly mine."
It’s just a thought...
"I’ve never really found a place that I call home; I never stick around quite long enough to make it. I apologize, but once again I’m not in love but it’s not as if I mind that your heart aint exactly breaking."
Home is where the heart is, right? Well, what if you’re not quite where that is? The transience forced on me as a child is now being chosen by me as an adult and I’m left to wrestle with what that means for me and my life. I’ve been in New Jersey for a little more than eight months and I’m already feeling that itch for a change of scenery. I’m anxious for a change I must wait for. It’s weird, though, because I’m in a love/hate relationship with this wanderlust of mine. I love the adventure and the "newness." When asked how NJ was the other day, I said, "it’s my life’s pursuit: a different place with different people." In the same breath, though, I’m unsure. "I wonder someimes about the outcome of a still-verdictless life." sings John Mayer, and rightfully so! People ask me what I will do eventually, when all my "running around" is done and I haven’t a clue. I hope to be married by then, but what if I’m not? I don’t really worry about how I will support myself; I have lots of marketable skills and my standard-of-living expectations are really quite modest. I think, more than anything, I worry about how I will feel. I already feel this sense of disconnect from others. "Everybody’s just a stranger, but that’s the danger of going my own way; I guess it’s the price I have to pay." I’m coming to believe that my natural tendency is towards being a hermit and that my life is filled with "situational" friends; in this time and this place, this situation, we are friends. I don’t like this and I fear where this will find me in ten, fifteen, twenty years. It’s difficult to reconcile these things, urge and anxiety. It’s the "stirring in my soul" against the mumblings in my head...
"If my life is for rent and I don’t learn to buy, I deserve nothing more than I get because nothing I have is truly mine."
It’s just a thought...
what boys like
originally posted April 9, 2008
So I was reminded on sunday, yet again, that "most guys like girls with longer hair." I’ve joked, on occassion, that this is the very reason I’ve decided to let mine grow (it ISN’T, btw). As someone who seems to be chronically single, these comments always tend to strike a nerve. It would appear that I DON’T know what "boys like" since I can’t seem to snag one. But upon giving it some thought, I realized that it’s the system I have a problem with. I’ve been taught, like most girls, that we must live our lives for the abstract male. The goal is to arrange things, be it weight, manner of dress, demeanor, and yes even hair, to prove marketable to the guys who are "in the market", as in the sale of a house or a car. If we don’t come with the right features, we won’t attract much interest. Well, I’ve decided that I’ve had enough. I’m through letting the abstract male dictate my decisions, INCLUDING those made concerning my hair. If someone specific is interested in me and really prefers something, then we’ll talk but until then, I’M calling the shots. It just seems kinda sneaky to me. I mean, I know how I am and I can only go so long before I have to do what I want to do. Why would I want to be with someone who likes someone who isn’t REALLY me, anyways? It’ll happen when it happens. Until then, I’m fine with not being "what boys like."
So I was reminded on sunday, yet again, that "most guys like girls with longer hair." I’ve joked, on occassion, that this is the very reason I’ve decided to let mine grow (it ISN’T, btw). As someone who seems to be chronically single, these comments always tend to strike a nerve. It would appear that I DON’T know what "boys like" since I can’t seem to snag one. But upon giving it some thought, I realized that it’s the system I have a problem with. I’ve been taught, like most girls, that we must live our lives for the abstract male. The goal is to arrange things, be it weight, manner of dress, demeanor, and yes even hair, to prove marketable to the guys who are "in the market", as in the sale of a house or a car. If we don’t come with the right features, we won’t attract much interest. Well, I’ve decided that I’ve had enough. I’m through letting the abstract male dictate my decisions, INCLUDING those made concerning my hair. If someone specific is interested in me and really prefers something, then we’ll talk but until then, I’M calling the shots. It just seems kinda sneaky to me. I mean, I know how I am and I can only go so long before I have to do what I want to do. Why would I want to be with someone who likes someone who isn’t REALLY me, anyways? It’ll happen when it happens. Until then, I’m fine with not being "what boys like."
I miss back when...
originally posted January 24, 2008
When the doorbell rang the other morning, I wondered who it could be. I wasn't expecting anyone, after all. So I went to the door, opened it, and found myself face to face with those visitors we're never expecting but still get from time to time. I'm talking, of course, about "religious" visitors; these happened to be Jehova's Witnesses. They began to give the spiel and I was perfectly content to humor them by listening when I heard a voice behind me offering the "thanks, but no-thanks" brush-off accompanied by a meager excuse as to why we simply had no time for a mini-sermon at the moment. Why do we give those, anyways? We know, deep down, that they know that it's really not true (trust me; they know) AND we just lied, which means we probably DO nead to hear what they have to say, after all! Anyways... After I had to shut the door, apologetically mind you, I was admonished (like a child...) to first ascertain the identity of the person(s) on the other side and then exercise judgement as to whether or not to open. Why? Because answering the door could be dangerous, of course. Please! The new face of terror: middle-aged women toting religious tracts! In all seriosness, though, it had never occurred to me that I should be worried when answeing the door. I didn't grow up learning to be afraid. My parents only locked the doors at night when we were sleeping; not when we left the house for the day and certainly not when we were home. In fact, I got my first "house" key ever when I moved into the dorms.
Am I aware of the existence of bad people in the world? Of course; I read the paper everyday. It just stuck me so profoundly today that "I miss back when..."
When the doorbell rang the other morning, I wondered who it could be. I wasn't expecting anyone, after all. So I went to the door, opened it, and found myself face to face with those visitors we're never expecting but still get from time to time. I'm talking, of course, about "religious" visitors; these happened to be Jehova's Witnesses. They began to give the spiel and I was perfectly content to humor them by listening when I heard a voice behind me offering the "thanks, but no-thanks" brush-off accompanied by a meager excuse as to why we simply had no time for a mini-sermon at the moment. Why do we give those, anyways? We know, deep down, that they know that it's really not true (trust me; they know) AND we just lied, which means we probably DO nead to hear what they have to say, after all! Anyways... After I had to shut the door, apologetically mind you, I was admonished (like a child...) to first ascertain the identity of the person(s) on the other side and then exercise judgement as to whether or not to open. Why? Because answering the door could be dangerous, of course. Please! The new face of terror: middle-aged women toting religious tracts! In all seriosness, though, it had never occurred to me that I should be worried when answeing the door. I didn't grow up learning to be afraid. My parents only locked the doors at night when we were sleeping; not when we left the house for the day and certainly not when we were home. In fact, I got my first "house" key ever when I moved into the dorms.
Am I aware of the existence of bad people in the world? Of course; I read the paper everyday. It just stuck me so profoundly today that "I miss back when..."
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