Directionally Challenged

I have always been very aware of my surroundings. It could be that my parents always taught me know where I am at all times in case someone tries to steal me or otherwise brutalize me in any form. Thankfully, I never had to use my navigational skills in that capacity, but I did retain that grounded feeling of always having my bearings in no time flat. New York, Dublin, and Atlanta are all very familiar places to me. I went out in a rickshaw in Mumbai by myself when I was 17 and didn't feel at all worried, and I always knew where my hotel was in relation to where I was. I think I have made my point.

However, when it comes to the direction that I want my life to go, the directions elude me. Mark and I have been talking a lot about this aimlessness I sometimes possess because it gets more complicated when your muffled directions cause another person's pristine guide to their life to become not so clear. Since Mark and I are going to Hollins University for the summer, he suggested that I enroll in some creative writing classes. Hollins is one of the best creative writing programs in the nation (or the world, as Mark says), so I would probably get a lot out of it. The best part is that the application process is very much portfolio based, which is good for me because my GPA and my GRE scores indicate that I have a mental handicap. So, if I want to be considered for the program (whether it be creative writing, children's literature, playwriting, or screenwriting), I have to have a banging portfolio.

This leads to the problem: my portfolio stinks. I haven't written anything worth looking at a second time since, well, forever. Specifically, it has been at least a year since I have written anything in any sort of structured or peer-reviewed atmosphere. I have a perfect opportunity to write and get feedback from excellent writers and well-read academic critical thinkers with my blog, but I am afraid of the people I truly care about on this planet thinking that I have no talent. But, this is an opportunity to produce writing (which is what I want to do) and get feedback, and I have the motivation of a graduate school application deadline (January 6 for creative writing and February 15 for all the others).

So, I am going to start posting poems, prose, non-fiction and sometimes self-deprecating works. I am working on a poem that borders on children's literature, but I just got too scared to post it yet. Maybe tomorrow.

What makes an executive producer?

Let me give some background information to this post. Mark is making his first documentary on Dub Taylor, a prolific Western actor who is not known by his name, but is known by his face and laugh. Ever since we reconnected in April, he has been making connections and doing the groundwork for a successful documentary.

Shortly after we started dating officially in July, I was able to go with him and his "executive producer," James, to an interview with Dixie Carter and Buck Taylor. I was his rock, his one source of sanity throughout the trip because everyone else was annoying at times.

The next time he set up an interview in Augusta, I dutifully went with him on two separate occasions and charmed the pants off of a handful of old cowboys. Could Mark have done that by himself? I think not.

Then, I provided resources for Mark to interview David Zucker when he came to Savannah. Sure, "James the executive producer" went with him and provided a camera for B-roll footage, but I gave Mark directions and we all know how priceless good directions are for Mark.

However, where was James when Mark set up an interview with Bobby Copeland, a western writer? Not in Oak Ridge, TN (home of the nuclear bomb). I was up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday, on the first day of my period with cramps that would crush a watermelon, feeding Tylenol Sinus to Mark and Midol to myself and driving all the way home in the middle of the night. That, my friends, is dedication.

I thought it was time to negotiate an executive producer credit after all of this hard work, but Mark said that executive producers give $2000 to the project. Where is James's $2000? I think that if we totalled up all of the love and support and time I have INVESTED in this project, there would be more than enough to suffice the requirements needed to be an executive producer.

Totally Unrelated to All Things Wedding

I have really enjoyed my survey classes of British and American Lit. I just wanted to share some of my favorites that I have been reading lately.

This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

In a Station of the Metro
by Ezra Pound

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

Leda and the Swan
by W. B. Yeats

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.

Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

A Kink in the Plan

Bad news, ladies. I looked at the dress that is shown below for the bridesmaid dress in person, and it looks ghetto. There is a mesh overlay on the dress. Not cute, wispy mesh; stretchy eighties mesh. So, I found some alternatives. We still have a couple of months, so we can keep looking if these don't suit your fancy.

Step Four (Getting Annoyed with the Title Yet?)

I don't have a photo with this post because I just bought my wedding gown last night. The dress had been discontinued the week before, so I grabbed it because it was my perfect size (without needing alterations) and now it is in an undisclosed location. Okay, it's at Mom's. It's gorgeous and I am happy with it. The best part is that I got it 65% off of the original price. Am I a bargain shopper or what?

Another thing is that I am not sure if we should do the carriage thing because it will be hot and we might all smell like horse butt. I could be distracted because I have a keen sense of smell. Instead, I might get a room in a bed and breakfast right in front of the wedding site so that I can watch how the set-up is progressing, and then everybody can get ready there and just walk across the street. What do you think about that?

Step Three

Here are a couple of pictures that I found of bouquets that I liked. The first one would be mine, with a variation. I would want green hydrangeas instead of the green flower shown in the photo. The second picture is the blue hydrangea bouquet I want the bridesmaids to have.

Also, I have a website on theknot.com that is pretty ghetto now because I haven't done a lot to it yet, but I will try to continue to update it as best as I can. If you have time, you can go look at it.

http://weddings.theknot.com/pwp/view/co_main.aspx?coupleid=3294284493412050

Step Two

We have picked the location for the wedding and the time. The wedding will be held at 2:30 p.m., June 2,2007 at Forsyth Park. I paid for the location today. I think that we are moving along nicely with the wedding plans. I have found a wedding planner and I am going to meet with her on Wednesday and have possibly found a photographer. Keep your fingers crossed! I also made an appointment to go to a secret bridal gown shop in Savannah on Saturday. Hopefully I will find a dress that is not a fortune and makes me want to take pictures in it. I am starting to get excited about the ceremony! (I have always been excited about the marriage part...I hope that goes without saying.)

Step One (with many more to come)

PREFACE: You know that feeling of frustration and hopelessness when you obssess about something that you have no ultimate control over? That is the surprising feeling that I have about this wedding. Of course I am happy about the MARRIAGE part of it, but the wedding, not so much. I know that when I arrive there on that day, it will be beautiful, but I am so frustrated. Okay, I know, poor me, I am getting married, I am so destitute, blah, blah, blah. Seriously, it is pretty hard to pull this thing together. The hardest parts are not knowing what to choose. I didn't grow up knowing exactly where I wanted to get married and how it was going to look like. I think it has evolved so much that now I am confused.

MAIN POINT: Here is the only thing that is (tenatively) agreed upon: the bridesmaid's dress. I wanted a chocolate brown, tea length dress that could be worn again and that wasn't very expensive. I think that this is a lovely choice.

A Kiss from a Bee

Today, I was walking through Armstrong and thinking that it is a shame that most of the students do not take the time to appreciate the beauty that is found in the flower gardens on campus. I was taking my time, observing the curve of the leaves and the pointed petals that multiplied on the prettiest flower I have ever seen. I wanted to take one, to keep it near me because of the stark beauty it held as butterflies flickered among the thick stems and delicate petals.

My mind wandered to a subject that has been the priority in my life lately: my wedding. I considered the flower again and decided that this flower was indeed very bridal. Happy with my discovery, I smiled and continued walking to class. My mind continued to float along, thinking about my wedding and how excited I am to be with Mark. In the corner of my eye, I noticed a black figure flying beside me. I didn't pay much attention at first because there were tons of butterflies all around. After a while, my dark friend had not left my side, so I looked closer to see what he looked like. I was expecting a beautiful, ebony butterfly. I was startled when I realized it was a bee. I jerked my hand a few inches away, but froze as the bee came towards my hand. I was worried that it would sting me, but it brushed the back of my hand and flew away.

There has been a difference in my awareness of nature ever since my father passed away a few weeks ago. If this moment with the bee had occurred a few months ago, I wouldn't have thought of it again. Now, I look out for signs that my dad is still around, and it humored me that he could appear in my life as a friendly bee. Bees usually frighten me, which I express through anger, swatting the air and frowning. Today I was more startled than afraid and it was nice to have a friend accompany me to class. It made me glad that my dad would pop up when I was thinking about my wedding, and I told him, in my mind, that I wished he could be there with me on that day. As I walked through the door, out of the warm sun, I promised myself to watch out for bees in June.

Strapping on the Ol' Ball n' Chain

So, it's official. I am going to be Mrs. Kasey Stokes in 215 days. We broke the news to our families (Mark's mom cried, mine told me to just get it over with and elope - you can tell who is paying for this, huh?) and church members. Mark and I are really excited, even though it is not a surprise. We talked about getting married before we started dating and we picked the date before we got engaged. We do things backwards in this relationship.

Anyway, so our motto for this wedding is a variation from the old saying K.I.S.S. ("keep it simple, sweetheart" - even though it might revert back to "stupid" occasionally, but only in jokes). We want everything really simple so that neither one of us gets overwhelmed. So far, I think we have picked the ceremony site (a historical church in Midway, GA), the vendors for the ceremony, the people that are involved, and the overall aesthetic of the day. Now, my job (between work and school) is to try to get the prices for everything and secure the vendors for the ceremony. His dad is a preacher, so he will be performing the ceremony for us.

I don't know what else to say except for how lucky I am to have Mark. He said last night that there were too many events leading up to this day for it to be purely luck, but I am so overwhelmed with the massive outpouring of love that comes from one person. I could have never imagined a better person to marry. In truth, my standards were probably a lot lower because Mark exceeded my expectations so quickly and consistently. I am truly blessed.

The Horrors of Ring Shopping

For the past few days, I have been on a mission to find the perfect engagement ring. Unfortunately, in Mount Vernon (where Mark lives) there is not a huge selection of jewelry stores to choose from, so I have embarked (sans Mark) on a quest in Savannah to find what I have been wanting for my reserved left ring finger.

I must first say that I had a false start. A couple of months ago, before Mark gave me the go-ahead to start seriously looking for an engagement ring, my brother, Steven, and I did some re-con work in Atlanta. While Mark was off at a nerd, I mean, Sci-Fi convention, Steven and I went out to Phipps mall, straight into Tiffany and Co. Let me pause here and say never to start out looking for an engagement ring at Tiffany's. It ruins it for everybody. I chose a diamond that "exceeded the floor limit" and had to view it in a private room. It was gorgeous and the price of a tricked-out BMW. The next one, that I truly loved, was a modest $31 thou. Who could afford that? However, the saleswoman said that this particular style started at a considerably lower price range, so I had lots of hope. However, to get a ring in that style for a somewhat-reasonable amount of money was the equivalent to the size of a head of a pin, so I let out a sigh and quickly moved on.

That brings me to this week. Mark gave me the okay to start seriously shopping for the ring. The first place I went to had a very excellent selection, almost too good. I was completely overwhelmed. I never could completely focus, but I did find some really beautiful diamonds. Next, I went to a chain store in the mall (something that I started out saying that I did not want to do) and looked for something that did not appear to be mass-produced. The first store I went into is infamous for having the snottiest salespeople of all. It is a local chain and everyone who works in there is not a day younger than 55. They are rude and condescending and pushy. I had to go to two different stores within their chain before I could find what I was (sort of) looking for. Yeck.

Then, I happened to walk by another jewelry store, this one being a national chain, and noticed that one of my good friends from college worked there. We started talking and it turns out that him and his girlfriend are getting married on the same day that Mark and I are getting married (June 2). We were surprised, but he was disappointed because he was going to call me and ask if I would sing at his ceremony. I said that I thought that I would be a little too busy. As we were talking, I was looking at rings, and I thought that I had found one that was perfect and on the lower end of the budget, which Mark loved. However, when I went to sleep that night, I kept tossing and turning and dreaming about that ring. I knew when I woke up the next morning that it was not, in fact, my ring.

I broke the news to Mark and he said for me to keep looking and then tell him which one I want. So, today I went to another place downtown that is not a chain and looked around. I found two possible choices, one was a solitaire (which I thought I did not want) and the other was more ornate and rather hard to describe. I told her to write down both rings so that I could bring Mark back to look at them both. As I was driving back, I decided that I did not want a white gold band, but a platinum band instead. I called the store and the salesperson said that she was just talking about me because she put the solitaire ring in the safe for me on hold because she thought that one was a better choice. I was thinking the same thing because the other, more ornate one had too small of a center diamond in my opinion. Then, just a few minutes later, she called me back and said that she found another mounting that would hold the diamond in the solitaire. I am really excited to see it, but now that just means that I have more decisions to make!

p.s. I am aware that nobody is interested in this saga but me, which is clearly identifiable on the faces of every friend and family member I tell it to, but I have got to get it out. It is so much more frustrating than I thought!

Feeling Better

I realize that most of the time that I write about my sadness and melancholy, so today I want to make a point to write about the good stuff going on in my life. Admittedly, I have not been myself for the past few weeks, and I would say that grief is as good a reason as any, but now I am starting to reclaim my objective point of view and see just how many blessings came out of my loss.

I realize now that God softens the severity of death with hope and life. Here are some really great things going on in my life.

1. My cousin and childhood best friend just told me that she is having a baby. I am so thrilled that there is going to be a new baby in the family I can hardly stand it. My sister, Kirsten, and I sat at lunch the other day picking out baby names for her.

2. I only have six weeks of school left before I graduate with my Bachelor's degree. Yes, I know that I am mentally exhausted like I said in my last post, but six weeks isn't half bad. I think I can handle it.

3. My father's passing helped me realize that fear has no place in my life. I cannot be afraid to try things that I want to do and I can't listen to those who tell me not to do something because of their fear. It feels so great to be able to reject other people's fear.

4. The most important blessing that came from my sorrow was the realization that Mark is definitely the love of my life. As I looked up at him through tear-stained eyes, through all of my wailing and anger and aloofness, Mark stayed close to my side. He embraced my family, he held them and me when we couldn't stand, he listened when I screamed that it wasn't fair that I had to go through this pain, he made me laugh when I thought I could never laugh again. He worried that my family wouldn't accept him, even though they all adore him, but after all of the days he sacrificed to be with me, I would have married him if he were the most wicked person on the planet (thankfully, he is one of the most compassionate, law-abiding citizens I know).

Now, I have nothing else to look forward to but celebration after celebration. I get to meet Mark's extended family for Thanksgiving, Kirsten and I are graduating, Christmas is coming up, a baby is coming into this world, and Mark and I are working out all of the details in merging our lives together permanently (more details to come later). I am thankful for all of the encouragement and thoughts and prayers. I have really felt them these last few weeks.

Mediocrity is the New Cool

I really don't care about my classes this semester. The only stress that I am putting on myself is to do enough work to pass and not fail. I really wasn't that bothered when I made a 74 on my mid-term, and I only stressed a little when I made a 44 on a Spanish test, but got really excited when I made a 78 on a Spanish test. I really don't care. I am not shooting for summa cum laude, or magna cum laude. My distinction will be "Thank the Loddy." Sure, I am aware that I sound like I have no ambition, but I don't care. I am mediocre in college, which goes against my high school principal's slogan, "Mediocrity is not an option." I am here to tell you, my friend, it is a great option and I am taking full advantage of it.

The Competitive Side of Me

Mark and I were talking a couple of nights ago about how our relationship is rare in that we do not base the successful outcome of our arguments on who was right, but what is right. We don't keep tabs, we don't take score, we just discuss something until we reach a reasonable conclusion. However, to supplement this lack of competition in arguments, we have created a system of games and tournaments that are usually created on the spur of the moment to see who is the greatest. Typically, we never can figure out who is better at something because the vote is tied one-to-one. However, we created a game this morning on the phone and now we want to know who wins this game.

The game is called Rap Lyric. The rules are that you take something you see around you and make a rap lyric that has a simile in it (but not necessarily) and a pop culture reference. You also have to deliver the line angrily. Whoever has the best lyric wins. The lines do not have to make sense or be clever really. Just base your decision on personal preference. Whoever wins gets the "Rapper's De-Lite Award."

Mark's lyric: "I drove past Smokey the Bear, chillin' with The Grizzly Man while eating his babies. I will punch you in the face like Mike Tyson with a facial tattoo and eating some babies."

My lyric: "I want to go to school like Paris Hilton wants a strawberry shortcake. I got cramps that hurt as bad as Aaliyah's plane crash in Florida. R.I.P."

Yes, neither one of these lyrics sound anything like current rap lyrics, but Mark likes the weird eighties rapper, Black Elvis, who just says random things angrily and makes a rap album. Feel free to vote or contribute your own rap lyric.

My Last Words

In a couple of hours, I will be speaking at my father's funeral. I wrote out the words last night, and I would like to share them before I go.

On Sunday, I saw the most beautiful example of a Christian than I had ever seen. It originated not in a church, but in a hospital and not from a theological scholar, but from one of the most suspect people you could imagine - my dad. A few years ago, my dad and I had a sort of a falling out. Through the last couple of years, he had made attempts to communicate with me, but I thought that the fight was too damaging to repair. A few months ago, I started praying that God would teach me true compassion, the kind that Jesus has for us sinners. Without me knowing, around the same time my dad found out that one of my most missed memories was riding my horse, Diablo. He started going through all of his old home videos and put together a tape of special times we shared. He had planned on sending it to me, but he got really weak and had another heart attack.

Melody called Teri and told her that Dad was in the hospital, and when she called me at 11:30 p.m., Saturday night, I knew I had to go. We were on a plane six hours later. When we got to the hospital, we waited to see him in the ICU unit. When we came in, Daddy's eyes got so big around, and he reached out to me. He wrapped his strong hand around mine and said, "You shouldn't have spent all the money and trouble to get here, and I know I don't deserve it, but I am very grateful." My last conversation with my dad consisted of chapstick, horses, hog hunting, and how sorry he was for all the things he had done. He was really sad that he had not made up with his other loved ones, but he was so proud to have all of his girls around him.

It is almost poetic how his passing resulted from his heart growing too big. His emotional conversation with Teri and I was so uncharacteristic, and he kept setting off the heart monitors every time he would talk, but the burden on his heart was lifted so that he could finally have some peace. His undeserving appreciation and repentance showed me how a Christian should behave and how I, as a Christian, should forgive. Forgiveness is the only path to freedom, and I will always be grateful that my Daddy took on that burden for me, so I could learn that lesson.

The Hardest Day of All

I lost my dad this morning. I humbly ask that you will all pray for my family during this time of immense sorrow and grieving. I will write as soon as I can.

An Announcement

I found out yesterday that I was promoted to assistant manager. I ordered new business cards and name tags, picked out a new name plate for my desk, and started signing my paperwork as "Assistant Manager." I guess I was suprised since I work part-time and this position is only offered as a full-time position. I haven't quite figured out why I feel weird about it. It could be that I see this promotion as a trap -- complacency knocking loud and clear on my door. Sometimes if I am satisfied where I am, I will not be motivated to strive for what I want to do, not just what is convenient to do. Or, it could just be that I am freaking out about getting a real 9 to 5 job. I had one for six months when I dropped out of college for a semester, but I quickly ran back to school and have worked part-time since.

The part-time job lifestyle really suits me. I am not totally responsible for a business, and do not seem horrible if I do not work all of the time. I am free to run errands or sleep in late. I can leave my work in my office and not think about it again until I come back. I can get a lot of work done, but I don't feel burned out. I know I sound like a dreamer or a total slacker, but I guess it is just that some people define success with what they accomplish with their career and I don't. Never have, never will. I feel satisfied by keeping my personal relationships going, not by moving up a corporate ladder. Anyway, so there you go. Another chapter unfolds.

The Problem with Seafoam Green

Brides say that the day of their wedding is "their day" because this is the only time that they are totally in control of every aspect of an event. The bride's expectation is for everybody to be exstatic about an event that they did not have any say about, show up to every "pre-show" event planned, spend a lot of money, and act maniacally happy for the entire engagement. Most of the bride's female friends and family members are happy to oblige, but where does this situation leave the groom? If he is caring and supportive, he will listen dutifully for hours about grograin ribbon and hydrangeas without ever saying how much he could really care less. If he is brave or completely naive, he will try to inject his opinion about how things should look on this holiest of days. Either the bride will smile sweetly and pretend to enjoy his input, or will completely shoot down the entirety of his contribution. Either way, none of his ideas will go into the final draft of the wedding day plans.

She will speak of nothing else but chiffon, seafoam green, the accommodations of the Sandals resort, her wedding band from Cartier, the limo she rented, and the blenders that are pouring in from all around the globe. While the groom wades through the ocean of fabric samples and wrapping paper, he has lost his best friend, who is now completely enthralled with everything bridal, and he feels like he will lose his independence or his male identity altogether, and is staring in the face of a humongeous price tag that will be waiting on him and his bride when they get back from their honeymoom.

Here is the catch: This groom will call up all of his unmarried guy friends and report this logic-defying new lifestyle to them. They will listen very closely and gasp at the horror that has overtaken his once rational girlfriend and turned her into a distant, shallow, obsessive person who starts to care little about him and much about other people. These single friends will leave him that night and walk home, secretly vowing to never let that happen to them.

Women wonder why men do not want to commit. They view them as selfish jerks when they resist getting engaged and roll their eyes when their boyfriends share their concerns of things changing. "What could possibly change?" their girlfriends ask. "We are practically married already," they would say. However, they both know that once that diamond is put on her finger, she will be so engrossed in this facade of a perfect wedding that everything will change. Their fiance might develop some sort of resentment when he feels like he was tricked or pressured into this less-than-ideal situation, and their relationship could suffer.

What is the alternative? It is hard to say, but looking at the wedding objectively is the first clue to smoothly transitioning from dating to marriage. Women should realize that the only way that they are going to prevent alienation from their fiance and the relationship altogether is to not obsess about any one thing, especially a glorified party. Set a budget, plan it, get help if you need it, but see it for what it is. This ceremony should not take away from your relationship, but enhance it. Realize that the feelings your future husband have are way more important than a shade of peach or the car you leave the church in. If all women would take this point of view, then men would start warming up to this idea of upcoming nuptials. Who knows? They might ask you to show them what you have planned, and may possibly even get a little excited too. As long as the two of you focus on the committment, not a party, your relationship should flourish.

The Business of Marriage

Lately I have been pondering the business side of marriage. I have been attempting to take apart this institution and look at it objectively, ripping away any of the social nuances that our society places on it. What does a marriage mean? The definition has definitely changed since the 19th century. The definition of marriage certainly does not mean the same thing in America as it does in India or Ghana. What are the rules, the boundaries, the collective goal that constitutes this thing that so many of us strive for? And what happens when we attain this goal?

In my British Literature class, we are discussing The Subjection of Women by John Stuart Mill. The premise came from his wife, Harriet Taylor's work, The Enfranchisement of Women. In it, he compares British women's status during the Victorian age to slavery. Neither he nor Harriet agreed with the idea of marriage in the first place, and he composed a legal document stating that he, in no way, wanted any part of laws of his time that gave him the right to become the owner of Harriet's possessions (which included her own body). He said that he did not think that any of these things were his, and he would not participate in such oppression. That's my kind of prenup.

Now, our society is faced with a severe contradiction: The value of a woman is found in her independence and her attachment in a marriage. Women expect other women to step outside of the kitchen and do something with themselves. Men expect women to be their companion and take care of the brunt of domestic matters. You don't believe me? Think about someone who is single, unattached, and without any prospects. If it is a man, he is footloose and fancy free. If it is a woman, she is pitied because she seems to have been discarded as undesirable, unwanted. I, myself, have fallen victim to the idea of my worth will increase if I am married.

This skewed social discourse, as Marx would see it, is false consciousness. I have convinced myself that this way of thinking is good for me. The same way that some newly-freed slaves were reluctant to leave their masters. How could that happen, one might ask? Because there is a burden and responsibility that comes with freedom. That is why we feel safe when we create laws and boundaries. These self-created laws and boundaries limit your choices so that your decisions are easier. If these are even considered decisions, because the word "decision" implies a choice.

How does this tie in to the business of marriage? Because when we expect our value or worth to increase when someone commits their future to us, the expectation of a life-altering change for the better is inevitable. Is this reality? Consider the rate of divorce, the cost to put on a wedding, the social implications that are attached to a wedding, and the modern dating relationships that Americans have, and it doesn't add up. It is all a big sham.

The truth of the matter (as I see it) is this:

1. We have an elevated expectation of marriage as a way to increase our value or position in society.
2. Society judges the wedding ceremony as a indication of the worth of a newly-married woman, and that is why there is a huge market for anything related to weddings.
3. With the way that our current dating relationships are set up as way more intimate than 19th century England, it seems that the only real thing that changes when you get married is that you gain a roommate and merge your finances. Sometimes this happens outside the bonds of marriage, so then there are no real clear lines.

Does this make me a skeptic of marriage? Definitely not. I love the idea that you can be free to explore every angle of another human being, to be a constant friend to someone and to be totally supported in everything you dream to do and to be. I love watching elderly couples who still hold hands and talk about their grandkids as they slowly walk the aisles of the grocery store. I love watching new parents make fools out of themselves to get a laugh out of their baby, and to hear them argue about how much their baby looks more like their partner. I love the idea of making a promise to someone else and to God, and watching that promise be sustained through hard times and good times, knowing that there is a constancy of love in this usually-bitter world.

Someone asked me once if I would rather have a life-long relationship with someone who doesn't understand me at all or a short-term relationship with someone who really gets me. I won't say how I responded, but I will say that the two options are two types that are found all of the time. The hope of marriage is neither of these two, but the almost impossible chance that it can be a life-long relationship with someone who really gets you.

And that sounds good to me.

A Secret Side of Me

There is a strange contradiction when it comes to happiness and creativity. I know that we often hear about the most celebrated of writers and artists being addicted to drugs, or in stormy relationships, or attached to other vices. I always imagined that if you are creative, you will always be creative, no matter what your personal life is like. However, recently I have noticed a shift in my creativity, not because I feel stifled in some way, but because I am deeply, genuinely happy. The excessive amounts of stability and comfort in this relationship has silenced my outrage on issues that I would normally storm the castle for, so to speak. I simply have nothing to say because of my disgusting contentment.

Today, after weeks of writing nothing but sweet emails to Mark, I decided to work with my new, happy state of mind instead of against it. Since all I think about every day is being with him, I decided to experiment and write the most vomit-inducing love poem I could conjur to see if any spark of creativity or enlightenment comes out onto the pages. The poem was sappy, and frankly pretty weak, but at least I was writing. Then, when I talked to him later about a dream I had, our conversation travelled to a deeper place and we revealed an insight into our more hidden insecurities and secret issues. It was so inspiring that I got off of the phone and quickly wrote a really meaningful poem in ten minutes. I am so happy that I am finally writing again. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to share it with you. Or Mark, for that matter.