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Last night, I met up with a friend for what is becoming our quarterly check-in into the other’s life. With busy schedules, meeting up for drinks a few times a year is about all we have time for and sometimes we even have a hard time penciling that in. Tucking into one of our favorite local bars, we ordered pints and settled into a table for two with house-made potato chips and the delightful charm and camaraderie that only an Irish pub can offer.
As it turns out, the past few months have been great for the both of us. We happily chatted about our jobs, our hobbies, and then got down to the exceptionally good stuff: our relationships. Toasting to our good fortune and thrilled that karma seems to have finally found us, we began to gush about our significant others in ways that seemed very adult for two people who quite recently had been wondering why we seemed to be the only two singles left on the planet. We talked about how we journeyed into coupledom and where we saw things going. Then he said something that completely took me by surprise.
“I think she could be The One. I really do.”
Everyone knows the names of the great philosophers in life. Aristotle believed in doing good for goodness’ sake. Socrates held virtue above all other human characteristics. Nietzsche thought that people were driven by achievement. And Tim Burton argues that reality and the impossible walk a fine line.
My name is Jessica and I believe in Tim Burton.
I have been a Burtonite since I was a child with such greats as Beetlejuice, Batman, Batman Returns, Edward Scissorhands, and what seems to be everyone’s favorite these days, The Nightmare Before Christmas frequently playing in the VCR. Granted, it wasn’t until high school that I discovered that all of my favorite movies were from the mind of a dark and twisted genius who grew up lonely in the suburbs of Burbank, California. In college, my world became immersed with reading his autobiography (now in a rereleased extended version) and learning everything I could about my favorite filmmaker.
Mentor Spotlight Week continues with a story of a man’s true love.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, a pig was born on a farm. That little porker grew up to be big and strong. He lived a wonderful life eating from his trough until one day, the farmer came along and decided it was time for the pig to fulfill its purpose. It was time for the pig to be eaten.
Not long after the pig had been sold to the butcher and packaged into pairs of pork chops and pounds of thin strips, a young boy had a piece of bacon for the very first time. His life would never be the same and a love affair with the most delicious pork product was born.
That young boy was the Fonz.
I am someone who lives alone. When I walk through the door at the end of a day, there is no one there to greet me or cook me dinner or draw me a bath. Recently, I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a pet. Unfortunately, my nickel-and-diming property management believes that an animal equates to an additional monthly pet rent.
Not a deposit, a pet rent.
Needless to say, I find this completely ridiculous and have shelved any attempts to cure my solitary home life. In the meantime, I rely on weekly visits to the family dog for licks on the nose and cuddles on the couch.
With a classic case of pink nose on half of the group, my family and I are back from our wonderful vacation in San Diego and about to keep the fun going with a picnic on the beach. I forgot how much fun it is to be around these crazy people!
Inspired by the ever-intuitive Rian over at Truth and Cake, I have been encouraged to jump off the proverbial bloggers’ bridge and be 100% vulnerable by sharing something deeply personal. But before I do that, allow me to
gather the courage share why I’m baring my heart and soul like this.
Rian’s post really made me think about what I want to achieve on Defining Wonderland. It’s hard to just put a blog into a box and be completely sure of the messages you want your readers to take away from your posts. I want my Wonderlings to be amused, inspired, encouraged, and comforted by the stories I share and the questions I pose. Now, I doubt all of that will be accomplished in each and every post, but I hope to at least keep folks coming back for more. I accept that some posts may be good, some may be great, and plenty others will probably bore you to tears, but that is the risk every writer must take. It’s a rather solo endeavor, this blog-keeping, but I don’t feel as though I’m alone with all of you out there commenting and posting on your own blogs. It’s encouraging and keeps me going when my creativity and motivation take a nosedive.
Ok, I think I’ve stalled long enough. The truth is…
I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who has had great expectations for something—be it a first date, a new movie, or a job interview—and has been let down when reality did not match up to our vision. It can be hard to deal with and certainly disappointing when life just doesn’t go the way you expected it to.
So how can we deal with our own disenchantment and how can we prevent it from happening again?
We must expect less.
You have been a part of my life since my mother ordered your Sweatin’ to the Oldies VHS tapes so that she could work out in the living room without needing to get a baby-sitter to hit the gym. To a five-year-old me, I was eager to join her. How could I not? It looked like so much fun with the colorful outfits, the great music, and the smiles on each of the dancers’ faces. I knew every word, every song, every routine—still do. Even now more than two decades later, I still catch myself going through the exercises when I hear songs like “Locomotion,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” and “I Get Around” much to the embarrassment of those around me. (more…)
I recently had a conversation about the bride of a wedding I will soon be attending. Before she was engaged, one of her friends announced that she would be getting married as her longtime boyfriend had finally proposed. The bride was excited for her friend, but was sad when she told her boyfriend the happy news. The boyfriend asked what was wrong and she replied, “It should have been me.”
It took all of my strength not to roll my eyes when I heard this, though I’m sure my forehead scrunched up in that familiar you’ve-got-to-be-freakin’-kidding-me look. I just can’t help myself some times.
I could not believe that an intelligent, successful, beautiful woman in a loving relationship could find herself saddened by the good news of a dear friend. I have never been able to understand why women put so much pressure on themselves to get married.
As a child, I was never that little girl who fantasized about her wedding day. I didn’t have a color scheme picked out or favorite styles for rings and gowns or the perfect location or where I would go on my honeymoon. In fact, the closest I ever came to thinking about marriage was telling my mother that someday I “would get married, have kids, get divorced and take the kids with me.” Yes, I actually said that as a child.
Though my extensive chick flick collection has at least three films where “wedding” is in the title and countless others that feature a ceremony, I guess I’ve just never found the idea of marriage all that romantic.
Yes, I was one of the millions who woke up early last April 29th to watch Prince William take Kate Middleton as his bride, princess, and partner in life, but it was so much more than the wedding I wanted to see. As with the Gene Simmons and Shannon Tweed-Simmons nuptials, I was eager to see two people who love each other share their feelings with the world. Both of these couples had been together far longer than the average “starter marriage” lasts and it’s so clear when you look at them that there is genuine affection shared between man and woman.
I love the idea of a partnership built on trust, commitment, and love. However, I do not believe that shelling out money for a piece of paper that legally binds two individuals and an extravagant ceremony that costs thousands and lasts hours is the end-all-be-all of life. I have a hard time accepting that a couple who is legally “married” has a stronger relationship than a couple who choose not to have the State involved in their union.
I have a great example of a successful marriage in my family. My Aunt Carol and Uncle Mike Brady have the longest-running marriage in our family and still seem to genuinely like one another after all that time. They are friends as well as lovers and I think that is so important in the grand scheme of things. Of course after all that time, they undoubtedly would love one another, but the fact that they still sneak kisses and loving embraces is something to be admired.
Their marriage has been the shining example for my siblings Darrin and Bree—we often joke that Bree married Uncle Mike as Orson is just like him and their marriage runs in parallel to our aunt and uncle’s—and they both acknowledge that they’ve looked up to the relationship Aunt Carol and Uncle Mike have.
I have as well, but my ideas on marriage have not changed.
I will admit, I look at engagement rings online and I have never been able to pick one that would be perfect for me. I take that as a sign that even if I like diamonds and would prefer something larger than two carats—what girl wouldn’t—I am just not won over by a piece of jewelry. To me it’s just that: jewelry.
The Fonz and I once discussed the matter of a proposal.
Fonz: I know you’ve said you don’t want to get married, but do you want to be proposed to?
Me: (long pause) You know, I think it would be really awkward. How do you tell someone ‘no’ and continue to be together? That would basically end a relationship right there.
Fonz: (looking stunned) Wow, I really didn’t expect to hear that, but you had no hesitation when you said it. I thought deep down you would still want someone to ask.
The truth is, I would love love love to spend the rest of my life with someone. To be two old fuddy-duddies on a porch tickling grandchildren and pinching each other’s bums is a fantasy. I just don’t need the State to validate my relationship with someone or a ceremony where all eyes are on me. I don’t need a license. I don’t need a registry. I don’t need attendants in matching dresses standing beside me. I don’t need a reception. I just need love.
And shouldn’t that be enough?