My life is filling up with wonderful, frightening things.
I feel like God has certain things he needs me to learn, and learn fast, before becoming a parent and splitting my focus.
I feel like I must be the most spiritual, the most organized, the most worthy, the most loving, and the most determined I've ever been in my whole life.
I'm going to be awesome, but I'm terrified.
I've never liked hard work.
There is a war within me. A war between growth and comfort, rightness and ease.
Succeeding is so important to me, but I want it to be easy.
Ow.
Ow.
Ow.
Perhaps it is a blessing I have no child as of yet. I've never been a good multi-tasker.
It is interesting to be named for a woman so associated with motherhood.I have always felt such a kinship with her.A woman of pure virtue, a woman of beauty, I always dreamed of playing her on stage, singing songs about her, or being discovered by an artist, certain that I am the very vision of her, and must be the model for his painting.
I also dreamed of and gloried in coming motherhood, from childhood even.I have always been, profoundly, a future mother.
As I grew older, I knew this to be my chosen path, more important than any career.College was for growth, and development of talents and interests, and to a lesser degree preparation for a possible income.
Surely I would have many children.Why bother waiting?All I needed was the right man, someone I could share every bit of myself with and one who desired children in the way I did.What a glorious future!
(This pause is for laughing/eye-rolling etc.)
Now, my hopes are so solid in comparison to my girlish dreams.They are more specific, more based in reality.I watch friends planning on having a few children giving birth right and left.
We, the little family with grand plans, wait, wait, wait.
Somehow Barren Tree is more a companion, than tiny seedling.
And Mary…Mary!
My hero, my guide.
For the first time in my life, her story gives me pain.
The beautiful, transforming words, “Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb…,” prick my heart.
If you're not familiar with Alanis Morissette, you can listen to the original here.
And in case you wanna sing along, here's the karaoke version:
(Spoilers ahead)
"Byronic"
A young man brooded alone Waiting for someone to speak to his soul Until here you come a quiet fool And before you know it into his arms you’ve flown And isn't it Byronic... don't you think
Then a man shows up on your wedding day Your dreams are shattered cause your fiancé Has a wife in the attic that he’s hidden away Who would've thought... it figures
No matter what you do what is right You pack your suitcase and tell him goodbye He’s so confident that you’ll do what he says But you sneak out in the middle of the night And isn't it Byronic... don't you think
Cause the man showed up on your wedding day Your dreams were shattered cause your fiancé Had a wife in the attic that he’d hidden away Who would've thought... it figures
Tall, Dark, and Handsome face, doesn’t mean that it’s alright When he won’t give you space, and has arrogance to match his charm But ”Mad, Bad, and Dangerous” doesn’t mean he can’t love You till the end of time and through all obstacles In your way
A secret cousin who takes you in A random inheritance gives you freedom from him Then you’re hearing voices that change your life Your love’s been blinded by a fire Set by his crazy wife And isn't it Byronic...don't you think? A little too Byronic...and, yeah, I really do think...
When that man showed up on your wedding day And dreams were shattered cause your fiancé Had a wife in the attic that he’d hidden away You should've thought... it figures
Tall, Dark, and Handsome face haunting your dreams at night ”Mad, Bad, and Dangerous” ways telling you he’s no white knight He’s no white knight
Woke up this morning. Stretched. I've made a goal that I will put a few things away in my room every time I'm in there, even before visiting the restroom.
On the way to my dresser, I began to sneeze. Suddenly, it was imperative that I get to the bathroom.
Interested in reading something truly awful? Awful, as in, horribly, grotesquely funny, but somehow still a published work of fiction??
Click HERE. And don't forget to read the introduction.
(By way of warning, some of you may find this a tad indecent. I find it too ridiculous to be titillating, but if you're worried, I would recommend you stay away from the second link that leads to pages 98-99)
And please tell me: Which is your favorite metaphor?
As a child I didn't think I was very pretty, not ugly either, just not pretty. Either way, it didn't really concern me. As I got older, I was told my coloring was very unique, or that my big, blue eyes were beautiful, and that comforted me. I decided I was unusual. Not pretty in the classic sense, but pretty in a different sense, which, in a way, was almost better. I certainly thought my eyes were prettier than all others I'd seen.
Then I met her.
I have this friend. She kind of looks like me. Sometimes people wonder if we're related.
We're both tall and slender, but she's taller, with thinner legs.
We both have fair skin, but hers is acne, scar, and even freckle free.
We have the same dark hair, hers more expertly coiffed.
Our eyes are the same color, but hers are larger, her lashes longer and thicker.
Her lips are more full, her eyebrows more symmetrical.
While my face is round, hers is longer and thinner, and her cheekbones! Did you know I have a thing about cheekbones? Hers are positively regal, elven even.
We even have the same name.
And yet.
I could never envision a trade. There was no trait so seductive I'd give up a part of myself for it. There has never been anything about her situation that I'd trade for my own.
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