the religion of Ought.
The child whose mother discovered him stealing candy from the store. The Varsity-captain teenage girl who got pregnant with her current boyfriend and cannot bear to tell her parents. The young man who panicked on the battlefield and gunned down an innocent civilian. The HIV-positive woman who digs through layers of street trash and filth in order to find a half-eaten sandwich because her community doesn’t want her to be around. The ex-Marine veteran who has been convicted of at least 5 counts of rape and aggravated assault who now faces his sentence. The devout husband whose wife of 30 years recently discovered his pornography collection. The wife whose husband just learned of her affair with another married man. The young woman in college who wakes up in someone else’s apartment in cold realization that she was date-raped. The young man sitting in the judicial affairs office because he accidentally killed his best friend while driving drunk last night.
“I shouldn’t have stolen. I ought not to have stolen.” ”I shouldn’t have slept with him. I should’ve waited.” ”I shouldn’t have harmed an innocent civilian.” ”I shouldn’t have committed those crimes. I ought to have obeyed the law.” ”I shouldn’t lie to my wife. I should have been honest with her.” ”I should’ve communicated with my husband. I shouldn’t have sought another man.” ”I shouldn’t have hooked up with him. I ought to have gone home.” ”I shouldn’t have been driving. Now… he’s dead.”
The Religion of Ought:
Adherents: 6,709,993,152 (as of July 2008)
…in other words, everyone is a member.
You are a member if you keep secrets. You are a member if you ever utter the words “I should have…” or “I shouldn’t have…” You are a member if you ever think you OUGHT to have done or not done something. You are a member if guilt, regret, and shame resonates with decisions you have made in the past and are making right now. HERE’S THE CATCH: the members who are most involved in the religion of Ought don’t even realize that they are adherents. They are the ones who blatantly ignore the voices of should-have and shouldn’t-have. If that’s you, you are the religion of Ought’s biggest proponents!
Each time we make a choice, we have the opportunity to affirm or disengage our membership in the religion of Ought–or rather, the “should-have” mentality. But… as indicated above, everyone is haunted by shame in some way. Granted, our scenarios are uniquely ours; we all feel shame differently. The truth is, shame is ugly. Every time it rears its ugly head, we are reminded of our countless mistakes – decisions we wish we could take back, words we wish we never said. Shame is the entree on a plate of Failure. It is there to remind us that in some way, shape, or form, we have failed… if not someone else, we have failed ourselves.
I attended a research symposium gala over the summer in which the keynote speaker for the evening shared his experience as a medical missionary and public health educator in Uganda. Aged and seasoned with wisdom and experience, he recounted the social difficulties he encountered as a child growing up in the Boston slums: he and his brothers tied cardboard to their feet because their family did not have enough money for shoes. The speaker continued to tell us about his journey from adolescence to young adulthood, a time in his life where he abandoned all hope, aspiration, and faith — he was lost. During this moratorium, he felt the weight of failure pressing into him on all sides. It was useless, he’d think, to keep going… to keep living. Life was too harsh, too brutal; he had realized that everything and everyone would eventually disappoint.
It was deafeningly silent in the banquet hall at this point in the speaker’s address. Personally, I think it was because everyone could unilaterally agree with feelings of desperation, despondency, hopelessness, and defeat. We could all identify with the sound of failure; it is a well-known chorus to which everyone on Earth can sing.
Nevertheless, our venerated speaker continued. He spoke of a fork in the road–one path leading to death and the other, an upwards climb towards freedom. He rediscovered hope, and, after some time, he received his M.D. from Harvard University and married the love of his life. He used four words to encapsulate his decision to keep living. When spoken, these words reverberated all around the grand banquet hall:
“Let us fail forward.”
Failing forward. These two beautiful words sum up his entire address to the conference guests. All of those conference guests, including myself, are part of the religion of Ought. But by adhering to the mentality of “fail-forward,” we are taking one step away from the religion of Ought and one step closer to the religion of Grace.
Falling forward. A failure that encompasses a forwards direction leaves us with no options but to leave the religion of Ought and the “should-have” mentality. We are now accountable for our own destinies, our own paths… moreover, forward failing is almost always an uphill climb. Have you ever tripped UP the stairs? It’s more common to fall DOWN the stairs, but for those of you who have experienced the weirdness of tripping UP the stairs, you know what I mean. Even though you fell, you are still heading up the stairs.
I am so sick of the religion of Ought and its entrees of shame. The stairs I am trying to climb are sharp, jagged, long and endurance-trying. I am continuously bruised from the times I fall. But every time I remember that I am falling and failing forwards, I have hope. Each step up is another step away from the bottom stair of shame.
Good riddance.
for my spectacular friends.
There are too many thoughts swirling around in my head for me to know where to start!
Several of you orchestrated the entire event seamlessly, despite the many rain checks and last-minute cancellations. You didn’t let the obscurities of email and Facebook stand in the way of delivering a successful surprise. Somehow you managed to bring many of those we know and love to the same place at the same time.
Still others of you drove hours that night in order to come. And when I gave you an incredulous look, you simply smiled and said that we were worth it.
A few of you were new friends that we’ve known for only a few weeks… your appearance made it all the more special for us…
And a few of you were friends we haven’t seen in months… just the addition of you there made it all the more memorable and meaningful to us.
This is a big thank-you to all of you that played a part in Extravagant Engagement Surprise on Sunday night… words do not adequately express how much Ryan and I felt loved by everyone. Thank you for the meatballs, the hummus, the yummy cake and homemade brownies; the hundreds of hugs and well-wishes of congratulations, the crazy bingo (I didn’t find out about the Star Trek obsession until AFTER we started dating), the conversational bits that were long overdue, and the insurmountable love you gave in the form of sacrificed time and resources… really, we are very, very humbled!
We are so very blessed to have brothers and sisters like you to walk with us – it is the impact from people such as yourselves that has built both Ryan and me up as individuals. We hope we can live up to this standard of friendship for you as well!
All in all, Sunday night will be unforgettable. Thanks for everything – we love you all!
Grace & Ryan
P.S. – We want those pictures of us being surprised… they’d make a great addition to the Crazy Incredibly Embarrassing Photo Slideshow of Grace and Ryan for our wedding…
“the adventures of grace the grad student,” part 1
Unlike the majority of the American population, I actually look forward to paying my bills. To me, bills are a mark of independence; a small stamp of self-sufficiency. Bills mean that I am providing my own basic means and maintaining responsibility. Bills may be the bane of every graduate student’s existence, but currently, they are shiny proof that I am capable of holding my own.
I’m sure that I will detest bill-paying in a year or so, but in the meantime I will relish my obscure love for bills. Apart from paying bills, I’ve been keeping busy. My first week of being a graduate student has proved to be both an exhilarating and fearsome experience. Rather than to impart every boring detail of my first week as a grad, I’ve compiled a number of lessons I’ve learned thus far…
1. Soy milk really does go bad. And when I mean bad, I mean… REALLY bad. I accidentally swallowed some (it tasted like maggots) — but thankfully, I didn’t get sick!
2. Ovens aren’t standardized. My roommate and I tried to bake cookies one night and discovered that our cookie sheet was too large to fit into the oven. We almost cried.
3. The best way to dispose of random insects in your kitchen is to roast them alive on the burners. At least that’s the fate that befell the giant cricket on my stove.
4. Lysol wipes clean the floors better than Swiffer. They’re cheaper, too.
5. Older apartments have quirks. My apartment has a mystery room in the basement where allegedly, there is a bed, a chair, and a nightstand. Technically, no one is supposed to live down there…
6. Some graduate professors assign their students magical articles that even the university librarian cannot locate.
7. College counseling master’s students almost always sit in a circle in class. I guess it’s because we’re so good looking…
8. There are more people who look like me in graduate school than there are in undergrad. Diversity?? Psh. It’s just collegiate outsourcing.
9. The saddest thing next to endangered pandas is perhaps my fiance’s face when I accidentally drop a fresh-baked pizza from the oven onto the floor.
10. There really are other people in this world who can eat entire avocados every day 
Okay… back to reading these insane volumes of literature. There will be more adventures to come eventually!
kiss-repellants and four-eyed spectating.
My fiance calls my glasses “kiss-repellants.”
He’s rather proud of his ingenuity, though I beg to differ. From my perspective, being cursed with nearsightedness is one of the most irritating things about being mortal. Being christened “four-eyes” and constantly associated with qualities such as “nerdy” or “brainy” by greater society was never one of my favorite childhood past-times. I never saw myself as a “glasses” person; I wanted to be able to see the world for its colors and sights on my own. When I turned 12, I implored my parents to let me wear contacts so that I would no longer suffer in my adolescent angst. A few weeks later, I sat down with an eyeball expert at a small table and attempted to place a hydrophilic soft lens into my eye.
I poked myself quite a bit before I got the hang of it, of course, but I was determined: no more “four-eyes” for me!!! I walked into school the next day a new woman, transformed by the glistening pieces of plastic stuck over my corneas… I knew that my life would never be the same again…
Four years later, a violent staphylococcus infection rendered me contact-less for several months. After my eyes healed, I vowed never to sleep in a box again (I contracted the infection from sleeping outdoors in an old box; don’t ask). I was rim-less by the time I was to enter my first year of college. I breathed a deep sigh of relief; how dreadful it would be to have to wear glasses in college! (Inject heavy sarcasm here)
My college years without glasses sailed smoothly on by. That is, until last October rolled around. I woke up one morning and found that the all-too familiar redness in my eye had returned with a vengeance. Oh no! I said to myself. Not again! Because I had no time (or health insurance) at the time, I couldn’t see my ophthalmologist right away. I decided to suck it up for a few months. When I was finally able to schedule an appointment with my ophthalmologist earlier this summer, I was prescribed an antibiotic for a week before able to use my contacts again. The redness cleared up in a week, and I went on with my life, undeterred by spectacles again.
However, my bliss was soon interrupted by another bout of redness-in-the-eye. I took another trip to the ophthalmologist, carrying the same complaints as I did during my previous appointment, and walked away with antibiotic in my hand once more. In the meantime, I discarded all eye make-up, contact cases, and anything that had the potential to provoke another infection. But the redness continued to return, causing me to finally lose my patience.
I recounted my spectacle tales to my good friend Emily the other day, drastically dramaticizing my dire plight of eternal glass-wearing. She sympathized and assured me that I wasn’t alone. She felt the same way towards her glasses and agreed with me that they were quite annoying at times. To cheer me up, she helped me compile a list of pros and cons to wearing glasses:
PROS:
1 – glasses prevent you from falling asleep when you’re reading
2 – they protect your eyes when you are frying bacon (or torching creme brulee)
3 – glasses are convenient, particularly on lazy weekend mornings and sleep-depriving exam week
4 – glasses are cheaper than contacts
5 – glasses make you look super intellectual, moreso than you really are (which is true in my case)
6 – they can be quite a fashion statement
7 – cool people like Bono wear them
8 – some glasses are made of indestructible stuff … like Nalgene bottles
CONS:
1 – glasses slide off your nose when you go running (a pet peeve Em and I both share)
2 – glasses don’t prevent you from crying when you’re cutting onions, like contacts do
3 – they make you look extra dorky when you have lab goggles on
4 – they really ARE kiss-repellants
5 – if someone trips you and you fall flat on your face, glasses break immediately
6 – if you’re someone whose vision is as bad as mine, you depend on glasses like you depend on having deodorant in Phys.Ed
7 – you have to take them off when you’re getting your picture taken because of the flash
8 – glasses make it quite difficult to wear stunna shades
After we finished brainstorming, I began to realize that my myopic condition wasn’t just physical. My myopia is spiritual. I was so frustrated with being unable to wear my contacts that I had forgotten what a blessing it was to be able to see — what a blessing it was to be able to access an ophthalmologist with insurance, to afford contact lenses, to afford a pair of glasses, and to have the hope of finding a solution to my problem. Amidst my anxiety, I was being showered with God’s goodness. But because I was blinded by vanity and selfishness, I was unable to receive those blessings.
Maybe the ophthalmologist will tell me that I have a condition that renders me incapable of wearing lenses ever again. Maybe I’ll go blind within the next 10 years. Whatever the case, I definitely don’t have it the worst. So what if I have to wear kiss-repellants for the rest of my life? There are plenty of ways to get around that problem…
musings.
I’m sitting in my luggage-strewn bedroom at home with a comforting cup of jasmine tea on my desk. The thunderstorm outside hammers raindrops on the roof over my head. When I look out the window, I see a muggy green jungle rather than the usual suburban scenery I am accustomed to. My surrounding environment sets the mood for imagination and introspection… suddenly, I am catapulted into a tide of flashbacks. But rather than impart to you fond memories, I decided to engineer a working list of lessons learned during my four years in college. Here goes!
1. Listen to your mama. She’s chock full of wisdom that you don’t even know about. Mine’s always right, at least.
2. If you don’t have a mother, defer to the older ones whom you respect and trust. Chances are, they see things that you don’t.
3. Never underestimate the little people. The ones who were always picked last for gym class, bullied by queen bees, taken advantage of because they are weak, the ones who don’t look particularly special or extraordinary. They are the ones who will inherit the earth.
4. Money can motivate you towards your way to success but it cannot provide you with content. An education or career attained by sheer desire for an income is transient in comparison to a life ambition attained by love or passion.
5. The people we dislike the most are the ones we have the most in common with.
6. Those who agonize over their inadequacies never fully understand the depth of grace and the paramount freedom we are meant to embrace.
7. There are issues in our world that command a black-or-white answer and there are dilemmas for which our answers will remain forever gray, but there is always one truth for every problem in this world… And it is a matter of kings to search out that truth.
8. It is possible for a woman to be as fierce as a lioness in her will but as tender as a lamb in her heart. Not all feminists want to be in charge of the world, you know.
9. To resolve to never love another is to resolve to never be loved. The one who resolves never to love should be the one we pity the most.
10. There are noble men in this world who believe that beautiful things do not always require a beautiful appearance; that lovehandles and skin disorders and imperfect hair are trivial. Such men admire women for their strength, intelligence, courage, and humor.
11. It is better to judge yourself before you accuse someone else of doing wrong. Chances are, it is you who needs to change, not the other person.
12. Miracles. Really. Do. Happen.
13. Never value the gift more than you value the Giver. Nothing on this earth belongs to us.
14. Every “hello,” every lateness to class, every lunch conversation, every argument, every misunderstanding, every assignment, every spontaneous volleyball game, every rainstorm without an umbrella, every accident or urge to complain is yet another opportunity to demonstrate the wonderful human ability to love, forgive, and be thankful for what you have.
15. It’s always a process… just make sure you’re progressing forward, not backwards.
Well it stopped raining and my introspective mood has been killed. More or less distracted, I should probably say. Perhaps I will continue this later.
i dream in nightmares.
I’m one of those people who talk in their sleep. It probably has to do with the fact that the majority of my dreams are extremely vivid and graphic nightmares, all of which are more bizarre and believable than the next. I dream in color, high resolution and all, and I also hear music and play music in my dreams. Most of the times, I’m in a ridiculous situation where I’m running for my life and trying to convince someone not to kill me or someone I love. If anyone ever tried to psychoanalyze my dreams, I’m pretty sure I’d end up in an insane asylum. But just for fun, here are some of my more recent REM ramblings and motion pictures…
Weird Dream No. 1:
There’s a party in the church basement and several of my WCEC friends are there. I’m there with Ryan’s family, but I when someone asks me who I’m with, I tell them I’m with “the Elgars.” While we’re in this basement, Angela leans all over me and I realize that she’s drunk. Ryan realizes that all of the drinks are spiked, and neither he nor I had anything to drink. He goes to find whoever spiked the drinks and tells me to run, because someone is after us (this is going to become a common theme in my dreams, so prepare yourself). I run to the top floor of the church and realize that Ryan’s not coming with me; escape is on my own.
I try to escape; I cross to the adjacent building on wooden slats (no idea how), and all of the sudden I am in another house. My brother shows up out of nowhere and suddenly I know we have to hide. Also in the house, a woman named Mariam and her two little boys are also in hiding. They are from Kabul; Mariam wears a hijab and neither she nor her sons speak to us. It begins to get dark outside.
I notice that the neighbors are migrating out of their homes; everything that happened in the church seemed like years and years ago. Soon, I begin to see everyone I know walking out on the lawn. I see my friends from college moving together in packs, all of them trying to escape what seems like an attack or invasion. Everyone is trying to escape death. My friends from high school show up outside the window and tell me that they are going to France. We say goodbye and part ways. Someone is coming, and somehow I know that we have to do our best to prepare for the worst.
Frank and I try to clean up the house as much as possible, we shut all the curtains and try to convince Marian and her sons to hide. I realize that we are minutes away our death because they are coming. Whoever “they” are, they are different than the people who tried to hunt Ryan and I in the church. Before we know it, gunmen break down the door and begin shooting everywhere.
I wake up.
Weird Dream No.2:
I am swimming in a large pool with a great white shark tailing my feet. Somehow, I know the shark is malicious and that if I didn’t get out of the pool soon, that I’d die. I overtake the shark and jump out of the water as if I was doing a stunt. The shark follows me out of the pool — we fly into the air and out of the nearest window — I look down and realize that we were on the highest floor of an urban hotel — and as soon as we begin to fall, I blow up the hotel and the shark dies.
I wake up.
Weird Dream No.3:
I walk into an empty bedroom early in the morning, armed. The bedsheets are rumpled and the room is a mess, indicating that an intruder was here earlier. The only sound that I hear is a constant beeping — there’s a bomb in the room. I quickly hurry towards the source of the beeping and discover that the bomb is in the Little Mermaid alarm clock, which has been placed on the nightstand besides the bed. The beeping gets louder and louder, and I frantically try to turn the Little Mermaid alarm clock bomb off but I can’t. I’m gonna die.
I wake up, and realize that the perpetually beeping Little Mermaid bomb is actually my own alarm, telling me to get up.
Weird Dream No.4:
All of my friends from InterVarsity and I are hanging out during dinner in the cafeteria. We’re in a place that resembles Camp Andrew’s, except there is a newly installed retro diner on the campgrounds. I grab my meal and start eating with Meredith. By the end of our conversation, everyone begins to move outside. The sun has set, and all of the lamps on the campground are on. It’s uncannily quiet outside, and I notice that people stop what they were doing in order to come and join our moving herd. We are all moving towards one direction.
The lamps on the campground begin to flicker off. Something is definitely wrong; there is an intruder on the campgrounds. Suddenly, all 100 or so of us there stop in our tracks: we notice a man hiding behind some bushes in the distance. He is armed. Ryan starts walking towards the hidden and armed man, exposing him from his spot. Before we all know it, gunshots fire everywhere and Ryan is in hot pursuit of the assassin — we all run and follow them.
Soon, the campgrounds turn into a parking lot, and we are running across the parking lot of a large airport. I’m at the front of the pack now, trying to catch Ryan so I can tell him not to get hurt. But I stop in my tracks — Ryan finally caught up to the assassin, and the two had breached the airport security checkpoint and were engaged in some seriously bloody hand-to-hand combat… [insert gross and graphic picture of hand-to-hand combat here]. I scream.
The next thing I know, all 100 or so of us are walking around in the hallways of an anonymous high school with paper bags on our heads. I guess we’d be in trouble if they found us out.
I think 4 weird dreams are enough to post for now. Seriously though, I think I watch too many action movies…
pinning the problem.
War is not the problem.
Murder is not the problem.
Nuclear weapons are not the problem.
Economy is not the problem.
Exploitation is not the problem.
Money is not the problem.
Communism is not the problem.
Mass starvation is not the problem.
AIDS Pandemic is not the problem.
Human trafficking is not the problem.
Prostitution is not the problem.
Teenage pregnancy is not the problem.
Masturbation is not the problem.
Premarital sex is not the problem.
Abortion is not the problem.
Single-parent headed homes are not the problem.
Unfaithful spouses are not the problem.
Divorce is not the problem.
Extra-marital affairs are not the problem.
Marijuana is not the problem.
Alcohol is not the problem.
Racism is not the problem.
Chauvinism is not the problem.
Feminism is not the problem. (Nor the solution, mind you).
Obama is not the problem.
Neither is Kim Jong Il.
Homosexuality is not the problem.
Poverty is not the problem.
The problem is this.
The problem is our lust, which leads to adultery.
The problem is our anger, which leads to hatred.
The problem is our pride, which leads to manipulation,
contempt, defensiveness, bitterness, ability to hurt others.
The problem is our selfishness, which leads to thievery,
avarice, pursuit of misplaced desires, mentalities of ’self’ as first.
The problem is this.
It is our capability to produce war for the wrong reasons.
Our capability to create nuclear weapons for the wrong reasons.
Our capability to use money selfishly, maniputively, foolishly.
The problem is our inclination to hoard and not give,
defend and be invincible, gain power but not humility;
seek instant gratification of pleasure, give in during the heat of the moment–
instead of waiting in expectation for something better and much more
fulfilling.
The problem is our unquenchable need to feel significant, competent, adequate, affirmed–
our capability to extort and to scheme, not to think about our brothers and sisters in need.
The problem is our tendency to make assumptions about one another before we even know their names
we like to feel important and mighty, always right, always in control.
The problem is this:
that we look to other men and women to satisfy our loneliness, our need for emotional and sexual fulfillment;
that we spend our lives building fake empires that burn down at the end of the day because they are but an
ARTIFICE
The problem is this:
that we are offered one, single, solo, amazing; breathtaking; indescribable; incomparable life…
and we don’t give credit where credit is due,
we forget to thank the Giver for the Gift,
and we screw it all up–
The problem is us
The problem is us
The problem
is
us.
twenty-five beliefs & more.
So I’ve been tagged several times by friends to scribe “25 things” about myself for the world to know. Once you are tagged, you are supposed to join the club and write “25 things” about yourself and go tag 25 others… some of these are serious, some of these are just weird. Anyways, enjoy — and know that your thoughts are always welcome!
1. I love incorporating big and new words into my vocabulary. I’m not trying to be obnoxious, rather, it makes me happy to season my daily conversations with words such as “ecumenical” or “vainglorious” or even “Machiavellian.”
2. Sometimes I am convinced that I was born in the wrong era. I love listening to Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and jazz from the early to mid-20th century.
3. I keep an LSAT Logic Games Workbook on my desk when I need a mental break. Last year, I was seriously considering going to law school for human rights and I began to study for the LSATs — though the law school plan never happened, the logic games are addictive and so much fun!
4. Though I am a Christian, I do not identify myself as one who practices a religion. The emphasis of religion is an adherence to laws, whereas the emphasis of true Christianity is redemption and grace.
5. I believe that something which is not fully true is false. Part-truths are no truths. I’ve hurt significant people in the past by not being honest with them. As a result, I have resolved to be honest and honor others with the truth. Some people are hurt when I am blunt with them, but I won’t mince up what needs to be said. This also causes me to wear my feelings on my face — I can’t betray how I really feel about something if it upsets me… so usually it’s no secret when I’m angry. Or really happy.
6. I have listened to John Williams ever since I was 5 and am addicted to soundtrack music. Alexandre Desplat, Hans Zimmer, HGW, Thomas Newman, and so many others continue to populate my iTunes. Despite my love for soundtrack music, I am peeved by the fact that all of the famous movie score composers are all old white men. I’m a little tempted to move out to Hollywood and mix it up a little.
7. I am ashamed of the way some Christians in our society have treated and judged gays and lesbians, including myself at one point in time if I am honest. Because of my own spiritual convictions, I cannot believe that a holy God would look at homosexuality and say, “Yes, this is good”–but it breaks my heart to see “Christians” attack and ostracize fellow men and women for their sexual preferences.
8. In 5th grade, my friend Connie and I told everyone including our teachers that we were cousins. Everyone believed us because we are Chinese, and a few of our friends believed us all the way up till high school. Just because Asian people look alike does not mean that they are all related!
9. I love to cook!
10. I practice piano in the dark sometimes because I want to be able to play without relying on sight. If I ever go blind (which I’d prefer over going deaf), I would still be able to perform.
11. Some days I wake up and I really wish that my parents didn’t name me “Grace.” “Grace” is such an intricate, loaded, vast and heavy concept. In the moments that I finally do understand (God’s) grace, I feel unworthy of its weight.
12. If I was a character in a famous piece of literature, my hamartia would most definitely be stubbornness. My mom thinks I will have trouble finding a husband because I am so stubborn.
13. I have written stories since I was 6. Of course, they were just stories about princesses and happy families back then (and there were more illustrations than text), but I have kept a folder of ideas for when I complete my novel. In fact, I have kept tidy profiles of potential characters for my novel for more than 7 years… you might end up in there somewhere, who knows?!
14. I am an introvert working on being more extroverted. It is often draining for me to spend time with large groups of people and it fulfills me to get to know someone one-on-one or in groups of four.
15. I believe that sex is meant for marriage. I am not saving my virginity out of fear of repercussions or “because that’s what good Christian girls do,” but I am doing so because waiting is an act of worship in and of itself. In a way, I am loving my future husband by saving all of me — but most of all, I believe that God has our best interests at heart when He warns us against sex outside of marriage. He knows what’s up. (Plus, I don’t think God created Neisseria gonorrhoeae for aesthetic purposes.)
16. I don’t have pinky knuckles. So don’t ask me to show them to you. They’re not there.
17. I love the rain. People gripe and complain about the rain and bad weather all the time, but every time it rains or storms, I am humbly reminded of how God is in control and how humans will never be able to control the course of their lives. Rain is good.
18. I eat a lot of apples. They are the perfect snack — made to-go, a burst of sweet and natural energy, refreshing and hydrating all at once. I try to munch on one every day. I’m rather picky though, so I usually stick with Fuji, Pink Lady, tart and juicy apples that have a bit of a crunch factor.
19. I tore my right ACL twice in the summer of 2006. The pain that accompanied the tearing, surgery, post-surgery, and rehab is so fresh in my mind that it causes me to be ever grateful to God for blessing me with a healthy recovery and the ability to walk and run today. Seriously… you don’t know how valuable something is until you lose it.
20. I am a feminist and I am pro-God. On most occasions, this makes me an anomaly in Women’s Studies classes. But to those of you who proclaim, “Keep your God off my body,” I would like to say in response, “My God created your body.” Don’t get me wrong: I am not using this space to condemn any pro-choicers but merely to state my position.
21. I really despise it when girls call each other “bitch,” “slut monkey,” “whore,” etc. Hearing such demeaning language evokes a strong gag reflex in me.
22. If God blesses me with motherhood, I intend to name my daughter “Naomi.” Still working on the boy’s name.
23. I enjoy doing push-ups and tend do sets if I’ve been sitting for too long. Sometimes I’ll pull out the jump rope — but that can get kind of crazy. If I’m really buckling down for an exam, I’ll brush my teeth before I crack open a textbook.
24. I can tell you the pitches in a fire alarm, police car siren, lamp buzz, radiator hum, human yell, and other obscure sounds. The only sound I can’t identify pitch with is the sound of a door knock.
25. I met some of the most amazing people and best friends in my life during college. I can honestly say that, if I had not met them, I would not be the person I am today. Thanks, ladies and gents — you know who you are!
Thanks for reading!
g.
deconstructing the princess.
I’m glad the Brothers Grimm are quite dead, because I think Rapunzel was a hoax. Furthermore, I think Sleeping Beauty is a tale of lies, and that every familiar damsel-in-distress story needs to be debunked. Sure, there is a Prince Charming in each escapade, and let’s not forget the timeless tower in which the princess is locked. But not one of those renditions is the truth.
First of all, there was never a witch. “Witch” is just an easy category to classify any old and cantankerous woman who tires of being wrinkly and desires to be youthful and vibrant once more. That, or they are just jealous that they can’t have babies anymore so they force unlucky families to surrender their daughters. Fairy-tale writers need to stop typecasting the old women and leave them in peace. Second of all, Prince Charming never fought a witch. He might have encountered a dragon here or there, but they are irrelevant. And most of all, the princess isn’t placed in the tower by an evil enchantress. She isn’t induced to sleep for 100 years in the highest room in the highest tower and she sure isn’t imprisoned against her will. Or confined to a closet by her evil stepmother. Rather, it is quite the opposite.
You see, the princess makes her own tower. She builds her own room away from the rest of the world. Fairy tales have ruined everything, you see, because they paint a picture of a hopeless girl who is in dire need of a rescue. No. The real princess digs her own foundation, sets her own base, mixes her own concrete and slabs it on one after the other until it’s high enough to ward off the outside world. Her tower is her haven, her security, her habitat and her comfort zone. She is there by choice.
You see, the princess is not unfamiliar with the pangs of love. She knows what disappointment feels like — particularly after her parents traded her in for a bunch of rapunzel leaves. Furthermore, she has seen the horrors that occur as an outcome of love: Helen falls in love with Paris and starts a war, Bertha marries Rochester and he proceeds to lock her up in his attic, and Eponine dies for Marius despite the fact that her love is unrequited. Oh no no no no no no… the princess is determined to avoid such tragedy. And so she builds her own tower, plants her own bramble bushes around the tower, and makes sure to bring lots of books and albums with her so that she can enjoy Hemingway with a glass of Merlot while listening to Debussy preludes in the background. Mmm-hmm.
Everything is hunky-dory, that is, until Prince Charming-and-a-Half arrives from over the hill with a great big demolition ball with the words “COME AWAY WITH ME” emblazoned on it.
I guess sometimes it takes smarter Prince Charmings (hence, that is why I added “and-a-Half” at the end) to woo us. Instead of glistening white stallions and glittering ruby-studded swords, he comes with a demolition ball. And his own copy of Hemingway and a score of Ravel’s Sonatine.
It’s a pity that the princess didn’t foresee the need for an escape latch.
That’s when you realize that you’re in deep.
