Short and Sweet

Yesterday, I got to participate in one of the best weddings I have ever attended. Admittedly, my participation consisted largely of applying double-sided sticky tape and falling down the stairs. Nonetheless, it was absolutely lovely. Not only did I get to see my old friends and the city of Baltimore, but I also saw something indescribably special.

There’s a lot of talk about the sanctity of marriage these days. Unfortunately, most of the weddings I have attended have been more about the ceremony and less about the covenant. This wedding certainly had its share of drama, but when Tim and Marie said “I do,” I had a front row view of a sacred moment. All of the planning and stress and details didn’t matter then.

Having watched my own parents’ marriages disintegrate (as well as so many others), I sometimes wonder if good marriages aren’t just mythical creatures. As divorce rages all around, seeing my friends exchange vows worries me. However, yesterday I caught a glimpse of two souls entering into a spiritual bond, surrounded by friends and family to support them.

As I looked around the church, I saw several shining examples of what marriage should be: Ben and Amanda, who have been married for two years and are expecting their first child; Dr. and Mrs. Cragoe, who have been married for twenty years and love their students like children… I listened to the words of the service and knew that Tim and Marie understood the gravity of their vows.

It was a very short ceremony, clocked at 23 minutes. We all felt a little like we were back in one of Dr. Cragoe’s theology classes, but that’s only because we may have actually learned something—I know I did. I probably won’t remember almost sinking into the harbor for a photo or decorating the getaway car with the aisle runner, but I will never forget witnessing that sweet moment of communion.

Isn't It Romantic

I like to think of myself as a realist. Certain people like to call me a cynic, and it’s true that I’m not much of an optimist. I am, however, somewhat of a closeted romantic. I do believe that temporal happiness can be achieved. My romantic side tends to creep out in one area most specifically: music.

Chick flicks, romance novels and Valentine’s Day usually make me nauseous. They’re selling an unattainable fairy tale of mush which I just cannot buy. A good love song, however, captures a single, blissful moment between two people. Three or four minutes of music and happiness… now that I can accept.

True, sometimes my music choices make me wonder whether I’m truly a romantic or just a masochist. However, the list of my favorite love songs is quite lengthy. In fact, the one part of my wedding that I have ever allowed myself to plan is the music. I have a list, to which I’m constantly adding, as I hear and fall in love with new songs.

Of course, as of now, nobody will ever hear that list. The song always inevitably ends and reality sets back in. Maybe someday the world will get to hear how much of a romantic I really am, but not this day. Today, I am a realist who asks “will you have the band play Isn’t It Romantic?”

If 1 + 1 = 1, Then 2 + 2 = ?

“One plus one equals one. We even have a word for when you plus another equals one… love.” That Zen quote from the finale of Life sums up a glut of sentiments pertaining to love and unity and two becoming one and all that cheese. I have observed this in several wonderful marriages, an exhibition which implies its truth.

My question is, what happens when that One is split back into Two? I am speaking, of course, of divorce. You don’t need me to tell you that this issue has become rampant in modern culture. I could quote multiple statistics about the number of children growing up in homes without both biological parents, but you have already heard all of them.

I am sick and tired of hearing people say that they got divorced because “things just weren’t working out.” That’s an excuse you use when referring to your old boyfriend/girlfriend from high school—not your spouse. If you’re married, you make things work out. Otherwise, your divorce screws up a lot of other lives besides your own. Remarriage does even more serious, irreparable damage to anyone it affects.

We shouldn’t have to explain to our kids why they have seven or eight grandparents, or why none of their siblings have the same last name. A divorce wrecks a home and a remarriage destroys any evidence of stability. As that old Yiddish proverb says, when a divorced man marries a divorced woman, there are four people in one bed.

Cohabitation, marriage, divorce, remarriage… anything and everything has become acceptable. Of course, it has all always happened, none of this is new. The degree of regularity with which it all occurs, however, has increased exponentially. Dysfunction has become normal. The most basic structure of society—family—has been as irreversibly injured as have the children who can’t figure out who to call mom and dad.

Here Comes the Bride Just Like the Other One

Today, I spent about eight hours sitting in a car in order to spend about an hour sitting in a church and about half an hour standing in the sun. Why would I do such a thing, you may ask. I asked myself that same question approximately two thousand times today.

The occasion was that of a wedding. A wedding is a peculiar beast. Supposedly, it is a celebration of two people’s love and dedication to each other. In actuality, it is an archaic social contraption, which legitimizes the transfer of property and power between families. The majority of a wedding ceremony is designed to satisfy medieval and Victorian guidelines of reasonable decorum.

Don’t get me wrong—I love to celebrate with my friends who decide to enter into honorable marriage. However, weddings and marriages are two very different things. A marriage is a sacred union that occurs when a man and a woman become one, for better or worse, till death do us part. A wedding is a display of wealth and copulation to society.

This is why most weddings are fundamentally the same. Oh sure, each may have a unique element (generally, the color of the bridesmaids dresses—teal or pink). These affairs usually cost at least several thousand dollars, but may never actually be paid for, thanks to the modern invention of credit cards.

So… congratulations to Karl and Liz! Your wedding was lovely and we all wish you well as you seek to combine your respective familial and financial obligations.

Home Sweet House

Earlier today, someone said to me, "you are where you live." I have already been recently contemplating the concept of Home and what it means to a person. To some, their dwelling is merely where they keep most of their stuff and occassionally sleep—these people would probably find their true home to be elsewhere, such as an office.

Where you live really does say a lot about you and where you are in your life. For instance, it would be unlikely for a family with several children to live in an apartment. Similarly, a socially active extrovert would not likely live in a cabin in the woods. If you live with roommates or alone instead of with relatives, that also says a lot. (Most generalities do not apply to New York City or other such evil metropolises.)

A few years ago there was a tv show called "Get Packing" which was quite short-lived and with good reason. The two contestants each had a few minutes inside someone's house to learn as much about them as possible and pack a suitcase for a weekend getaway... the person then chose his/her date based on the contents of the suitcase and how well the contestants had guessed his/her personality based on his/her house. The interesting thing about the show was how exactly precise or widely inaccurate the contestants could be.

If you look around my current apartment, I'm sure it would tell you a lot. A poster from my favorite film is framed and hanging in my living room. Most of my furniture is second-hand. I have two separate organizers for my shoes (one for dress shoes and the other for street shoes). There is usually a pile of dishes in the sink. Currently, there is only one toothbrush in the holder on the bathroom counter.

When I was growing up, my family moved around a lot. A lot. I hated it. Now that I'm out on my own, I would like to put down roots somewhere. Not necessarily here, where I am at this moment, but I do not enjoy a transient lifestyle of only a year or two in a town. I think that my generation has had it with the gypsy ways of our youth—parents moving around, parents moving out, parents provided by the foster-care system...

We young people have multiple, significant obstacles in our way, but we'll make it. We have to. I would want my kids to go to the same school for their whole education and not have to constantly make new friends. I want to be able to actually buy a house, instead of just renting. I want to invest in that house and make it a home for myself and for the family I hope to have someday.

Resolved This Day

I know that traditionally all resolutions are enacted at the onset of a new year and remain effective for approximately three weeks thence. However, I do not put much stock in traditions and am more than willing to dispose of any that are deemed idiotic and/or superfluous. This applies doubly to the area of resolutions, which I believe are best ratified when relevant, regardless of date.

A few of my recent resolutions include (but are not limited to):

Yogurt—I’ve started eating more yogurt and actually try to eat a serving each day. Yes, it is mostly because of Michael Westen, but it’s also healthy.

London—Going to London and England as a whole has been one of my dreams for as long as I can remember. It hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve decided that it will within the next year. If you want to come along, just let me know.

Blog—Especially during the summer, I am determined to post every day as a matter of personal discipline and creative exercise.

I cannot keep waiting for my life to start. Life is right now! If I keep saying “I’ll do it after I’ve paid off all my loans” or “I’ll go there after I’m married,” I’ll never do anything. I would hate to realize when I’m 85 years old that I lived too safely and didn’t have all those experiences. Sometimes, you’ve just got to make it happen. Why wait?

On My Own

This morning, I decided to take out the trash on my way to work. As I was walking out the door, I bumped into one of my neighbors on her way to her car. “Why don’t you just have your husband take out the garbage?” she asked, quite innocently.

What I wanted to do was set down the bag and admonish her sternly for her insensitive attitude. In this modern age of feminine independence, I am more than allowed to survive without a man. Yes, I am single. I take out my own trash. I also change light bulbs, unclog drains, assemble bookshelves, and perform a myriad of other odd jobs around the house which would traditionally be considered masculine territory.

I did not say all of this to the poor girl. Instead, I merely smiled and told her that I am not married. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said.

That was when I really almost lost it. Why was she sorry for me? Because God had not made me to be a tall, skinny blonde? I’m so grateful He didn’t! Instead, He blessed me with intelligence, capability, and determination. If anything, I feel sorry for this girl.

Most days, I am incredibly grateful that when I get home from work I don’t have to cook if I don’t want to—unlike my neighbor. I also don’t have twice as much laundry to wash. So many aspects of my life are absurdly simplified by the absence of a man. I’m doing quite well on my own, thank you very much. Frankly, it’s going to take a freaking awesome guy to change anything in my life. We’re talking as awesome as Daniel Craig, at least.

... and PS, my future husband can expect to take the trash out.