And Secondly

A follow-up thought on my Revolutionary Road post.

How can I profess to even want all of the things I say I do if every time I listen to the song "Castles in the Air" by Don McLean, one of my all-time favorite songs, I'm full of desire for the simplest life possible? (Preferably in this house in Teasdale.)

From "Castles in the Air":

But how can words express the feel of sunlight in the morning,
In the hills, away from city strife.
I need a country woman for my wife;
I'm city born, but I love the country life.

For I cannot be part of the cocktail generation:
Partners waltz, devoid of all romance.
The music plays and everyone must dance.
I'm bowing out. I need a second chance.


I mean, seriously, where do I get off saying I want to do all of these grand things and then say I might just be happy living in the heart of Utah's desert the rest of my life?

Revolutionary Road

I don't like the book really, but I can't seem to put it down. The problem is that I don't like the main characters, they seem snobbish and shallow. They look down on everyone else. But I am driven by the idea that life often becomes exactly what you mean for it not to be and before you know it you may have sacrificed your dreams.

For example, I live in the suburbs and desperately miss being downtown. I recognize the benefit of a larger house, yard, and kids on the street for my kids to play with (but as we all know, I'm most crazy about the hot tub). I'll admit that Tyler and I get out quite a bit comparatively, but for me personally, it's been a rapid decline since getting married--less concerts, less walks, less festivals, exhibits, etc. So I occasionally lament these losses. But I'm trying to be part of my community here as well, which involves participating in things I never imagined myself doing.

On Sunday I went to church and listened to the women talk about ways to "simplify" our lives. They discussed 4 basic needs: food, shelter, clothing, and fuel (in this case, spiritual fuel). Then each gave tips of how to plan a menu, shop affordable clothing, and cut out things in our schedule. The irony is that they also announced the activities for the week and it seemed there was something every night, some class or lesson or social gathering that, while helpful or educational or even relaxing, was just another to-do on my calendar.

And while I do value recipe exchanges and child-rearing tips while men talk sports and work, I desperately wish there could be more talk about what makes us human. I wish there was more blood in these get-togethers.

And yet how can I decline invitations for some things I crave? I deem myself the snob for not participating in the neighborhood book club because their choices seemed all too fluffy. Feeling bad about that, I attended the get-to-know-each-other night in an effort to show my eagerness to be friends, and found myself saying things and talking about things I don't really care about just to be talking: "Yes I bought this eye-shadow at blah blah blah." "Yes I drive a blah blah blah."

When I picked out the book "Revolutionary Road" after seeing the movie preview, Tyler confessed worrying that it would make me feel more unhappy. His concern is validated by my fear that the price of happiness is to stop caring about your dreams. It may not matter if you never get to live someplace exotic with the person you love or if you don't have as many stimulating discussions as you'd like, or ever be as honest as you'd like on your blog and so on, but if that's what you want, must you give up on it to be happy? I'll probably end up realizing like the girl in "Love in the Time of Cholera" that I've been happy much of the time that I thought I wasn't.

So I guess it's kind of depressing, the book is, but reading it actually makes me realize how much I don't want to be like them. And how happy my relationships actually make me! I think I just get defensive when I sense a threat to an unattained dream. I am impatient to experience some of the things I want to experience and isn't that just as bad as being impatient to have luxuries that come after years of work?

Just because it 'is,' doesn't mean it should be

Tyler and I were able to go see the movie "Australia" Wednesday night when it opened. In the movie, Nicole Kidman's character says the line: "Just because something 'is,' doesn't mean it should be." I loved that line.

I'm an idealist and so I know the exact sentiment she was expressing. If something could be so wonderful, why would we be happy with anything less? Of course this sentiment can lead to a lot of disappointment for me when I'm not willing to just be happy with the way things are. And it can often be confused with a negative attitude instead of one that aspires for better.

But I think there is a strength and tenacity to someone who insists on becoming whom they want to be or making what they want out of their life, despite the obstacles. That's why the movie Gattaca is one of my all-time favorites. Vincent has a dream and will not give it up for anything.

Another movie I love, "The Nightmare Before Christmas" deals with an opposite theme, the theme of not trying to be something that you're not. The Pumpkin King does Halloween best and clearly ruins Christmas when he attempts to do that.

So, although contradictory, I think it's possible for people to do what they do best and not try to be something that they're not while also striving with all of their might to fulfill their dreams.

Silly as it sounds, and I may regret this later, I believe that's why I'm like the John Locke character on LOST. You know the episode where as a child he's asked which items represent him in a pile? And he keeps choosing the knife, but it's clearly not him. But he wants the knife to be him. He wants to be a hunter.

I know that feeling. I know what it's like to want to be something that is most likely out of the realm of possibilities for me. But who can tell me that I shouldn't try? Who can make that call that it's just not for me, when I am still a believer that anything is possible?

Aren't all things changeable? Aren't all things possible if it means enough to you to make it that way? Just because things are a certain way doesn't mean that's the way they should be or that we should accept that. After all "Don't go placidly among the apathy and lethargy" is another line I live by. (See the whole poem 'Desiderata Too' in this post).

Not so "Yummie"

Recently I read 2 articles that really got me thinking. One was about Yummies--that is Young, Urban, Mormons. The other was about black women's marriage rates rapid decline. The marriage article talked about how black women far outnumber black men who have gone to college. It talked about how their marriage partner choices were more limited because men in their demographic didn't meet their standards and though many of them wanted to be married, they are beginning to believe that marriage is only for white people.

I can't help but relate to how this is happening to Mormon women everywhere and that I believe there is a growing chasm between young women in the religion and other members. It seems that more and more young women in the future will be looking for relationships outside of it due to a lack of place for them within. I'm not talking just about marriage prospects or saying any of these women are clamoring for certain authority within the religion, I just don't think they have people to relate to or men their equals to partner with. (Please insert all disclaimers you can possibly imagine here--i.e. fulfilling marriages don't have to be between totally equal partners or matching demographics, etc. etc.--I recognize and value differences).

I was going off on this idea because I consider myself quite modern and extremely independent and because I see a need for change. However, it was when I shut my mouth and looked at my husband that I realized how ridiculous it must all seem when I'm sitting with him at the table, 9 months pregnant, barefoot, with salsa spattered all over my shirt. I am not Young, Urban, Mormon. I am a defender of individuality and independence, but in truth, I am traditional--I want to stay home with my children, I expect my husband to be a leader and role model for my family. But overall, I hope that together we can encourage our children to think for themselves and expect of themselves what they expect of others to have fulfilling and rewarding relationships.

My Treasonous Act

"...He explained why an honest buildling, like an honest man, had to be of one piece and one faith; what constituted the life source, the idea in any existing thing of creature, and why--if one smallest part committed treason to that idea--the thing of the creature was dead: and why the good, the high and the noble on earth was only that which kept its integrity."--from Ayn Rand's 'The Fountainhead'

I quote the above because I believe I have committed treason to my philosophy on life and hope that I haven't killed myself by doing so. It's funny I wouldn't consider myself a selfish person, but my ideal is that people go after the things that they want in life. I don't like all of the hypocrisy that exists among people that say they want to do things, but never make them happen. I moved on from all of my past relationships for that very reason.

In the past 3 years I've had to totally come to grips that I am now the hypocrite. That it's not possible to live your life the way you want to when you're married, which was a stunning realization given that I've defined myself by believing that people can do whatever they dream of doing and limitations are only in their mind. Of course I'd heard and knew somewhere that marriage was all about compromise, but had I really imagined its effect on me? Not only am I not fulfilling my dreams, I'm watching others do it, and still I have not been able to define myself in this new light. I fight it and fight it and fight it and fight that I love my husband so much. And in my head I'd be willing to give up my identity for one that is "ours" but it feels so much more like "his" that I'm not sure where I belong.

I express these things not to criticize marriage or my own, but as an honest question of how a person of integrity reconciles theirs in such a situation? And because I need to be honest with myself to fight against the lack of honest discussion.

I had a great teacher in the 5th grade who conducted Philosophy discussion once a month in the afternoon. I remember one discussion about what makes a person the person they are--does it matter how many times they've changed their name? their appearance? their religion? the distance from where they grew up? their association with or lack of association with the family they grew up with? their goals? their perspective on the purpose of life? etc.

Because I thought it was my way of life, of persistently going after the things I wanted, that made me me, but it is probably all of those things and surely I don't have to be dead now, even if I must commit treason to re-define myself. And as anxious as I am to be a mother, I must know where I stand in life aside from that.

No Heroic Claims

As an afterthought to the post below, I wish to say that I don't believe I have any more grasp on life than anyone else, and that I don't think my personal philosophy on life better than any other philosophy on life. I have practically forced myself to make every move meaningful and purposeful so that the decisions I made in my past will have been worth the cost. I have to live life the way I do. And I suppose everyone does the same for themselves.

Atlas Shrugged 50th

I used to have a bumper sticker that read: "Who is John Galt?" Sometimes people left notes on my dashboard saying "we love that book too!" referring to Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged'. This year is the book's 50th anniversary. I read it when I was 19 years old. My friend Stephanie recommended it to me. I loved it, but had a hard time describing why to my friends or even what it was about. To me it was sort of about the economy, sort of a story about a woman, and mostly about knowing what you want out of life and not being apathetic. I think that's why the book affected me so much was because at that time I didn't know what I wanted. I was headed back to BYU, partly out of ignorance of what other possibilities I had. I was going to study archaeology because I loved it, and somehow I thought it would bring me adventure. I did know that I didn't want to be another person who talked about doing things but never actually did them. So the book sort of got me started on being unafraid to go after what I wanted. Some people call it selfishness, but for me it was about self-actualization. Why should I stay in Provo after graduation just because I had a boyfriend there? I wanted to get out into the world. I've had a lot of great times with people that didn't know what they wanted--and I think there's a difference between being a happy wanderer and being completely direction-less. But just knowing what you want to get out of things made everything more meaningful for me.

Having seen a lot of articles about the book recently because of the anniversary, I was reminded of all the things it did for me, or at least helped me realize so I could do them for myself. It gave me a sense of control and authority over my own life. It felt empowered to do the things that I dreamt of. I still have a huge problem with guilt, and in some ways, my sense of responsibility holds me back as well. So I'm still working on it, but I do believe that if you're holding the world on your back and it's getting heavier and heavier and you don't know why you're holding it, why not just shrug? Why continue to do things that have no meaning for you?

So if you've never read the book and most likely never will (it's a daunting 1000 pages), I'm sharing a poem I found a few years back that shares a similar philosophy. It's an alternate version of the famous 'Desiderata', the original version is quite beautiful and you can find it here

I like to call this version the Ayn Rand version and mine too. (On a side-note, my version generally represents my path through life--fighting against everything handed me, while the original seems like the approach of my two favorite people, my twin sister and my husband, two people who admirably sort of happily float through life and what it brings them--just my perception guys, we can argue later):

Desiderata Too

23 August 1995

Don't go placidly amid the apathy and lethargy. Remember that your silence is consent and there can be no peace where there is injustice.

You can't please all the people all the time, so shout your truth from the mountain top and don't accept nonsense from the bigoted, the ignorant and the self-serving.

Don't avoid people who are upset. They may have good reasons and your care and interest may make them less aggressive.

Be tolerant of the diversity that makes everyone special and be aware that there are no persons greater or lesser than yourself.

Don't live in the past or future. Enjoy the present.

Don't become obsessed by your own career. It cannot give you security or possession of anything or anyone.

Exercise trust in your dealings but be circumspect, as the world is full of materialists.

Become yourself. Express affection for all people and all species.

Be sceptical about romance for it is as transient as a summer flower.

Don't become tired in your ways and never surrender your sense of wonder. Don't be defensive. Be optimistic and imaginative.

Fatigue and loneliness are born of fear. Be rigorous in accepting responsibility for your actions and their consequences.

You are a child of your less than perfect parents and like the trees and the stars your time will pass. And whether or not it is clear to you, things are not working out nearly as well as they could.

Whatever you conceive God to be, also be aware that every single thing you do actually changes the world. Dreams cannot be broken and they will give you no peace if you don't act with integrity.

Unfortunately, this world is becoming uglier each day.

Be brave.

Strive for the right of all people to make their own paths.

Found in a South Australian kitchen. Copyright 1992 Andrew Bunney.

namesakes, faith, and identity

Recently a collection of letters written by Mother Teresa were published. The letters revealed some of her struggles with faith. Some writers have expressed shock, others, comfort to know that she was human too. She’s always been a kind of hero of mine and now she has even more depth than the depth of her caring—she has more character. No person is one-dimensional, you cannot be only one thing. And because of that I think everyone struggles with faith. I liked what one writer had to say:

"I think there is no suffering greater than what is caused by the doubts of those who want to believe," wrote Flannery O'Connor, the Roman Catholic author whose stories traverse the landscape of 20th-century unbelief. "What people don't realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross. It is much harder to believe than not to believe."

It reminds me of the book turned movie "The Namesake." It follows the life of a boy whose parents immigrated from India. He grows up in a primarily American lifestyle, but is confused by his Indian heritage. For a time he wants to ignore it altogether, and then after a traumatic event, he embraces it completely. He marries an Indian girl and attempts to live the traditional life expected of him when. But this doesn't work either, he discovers her infidelity and they part, leaving him doubting his identity and his decisions. Again, his world is shattered. Here he had tried to do everything right, and now it all comes back in his face. He has to face the fact that he has to come up with his own identity—his own adaptation of what works—what lets him be himself without denying his heritage and with self-respect. How he can reconcile the values of his heritage while finding a path that allows him to be honest with himself, not trying to be something he's not.

I loved it because as an audience you want resolution, you want him to be one thing or the other, but real life is never like that. Real life is coming to a reconciliation of your upbringing and your own way of life. All or nothing is never a viable option, and if you try to force it, you end up devastated at one point or another.

I struggle with this all of the time as a Mormon. I don’t agree with the way my parents enforced religion growing up. I believe God doesn’t want to force us to be good but to make our own choices, to have the freedom to do so. I believe it’s more important to be loving and warm than to strictly adhere to a code of conduct; it’s more important to treat others well than to have perfect church attendance, or daily scripture study. I would say that religion has often been a "cross" for me rather than an electric blanket, but it means much more to me as a cross than a blanket--it forces me to identify why I choose it and why I follow it. There have been times where I tried adamantly to do everything by the book, but I felt less human, less alive, and my friendships seemed hollow. I was denying part of myself, part of my need to express and not filter. I now prize the questioning I've done and am doing to continue to do to meld my religion with what I personally value. The goal is to live in absolute integrity, to never have to wonder where to draw the line, because I've made the lines consistent with what I believe is right. And by being so honest with myself, I can be fulfilled in my life and my relationships.

The Last Unicorn

You may have watched this movie as a child and only remember a scary red bull, but if you’ve watched it as an adult you’d know there is far more to the story and it is relevant to your every waking day.

Schmendrick the magician changes the last unicorn into a woman in an effort to shield her from the red bull while she and they discover a way to find and free the other unicorns. But while she’s a woman she starts to fall in love with the prince who loves her desperately, and she forgets who she is and what she came to do, and though she knows she has a greater destiny, she wants to just love the prince. But Schmendrick pointedly tells her “there can be no happy endings in the middle of the story.”

I had a visit from the XBF last night. We dated and were good friends for a long time so it was fun to see him. It made me feel good too to realize that in most ways, I’m still the same person I was a few years ago. He is really struggling because his girl just got engaged to someone else and he wants to stop her, but is terrified of marriage. It’s hard for me to imagine not being able to move forward (I can’t stand feeling immobile), but I can understand marriage being daunting, which is why I talked about the Last Unicorn. Because I thought I did it right, I thought I wasn’t expecting complete bliss, or things to be happily ever after, but I really underestimated how difficult it can be. So now I have to remember that getting married isn’t the middle of the story and that happy endings really only come at the end.

I love the HB more than he can imagine, but I wonder all the time why I’m married. I have a very intense need for closeness, to constantly be growing closer—if I don’t feel like I’m growing closer to someone, even for a just a matter of days, I feel far away from them and it gets harder and harder to be close each time. And because I’m such a physical person and touch is my number one love language I get easily confused by the lack of it, or by the presumptuousness of it. This makes marriage incredibly painful at times. On top of that, I’m married to a man with an ex-wife and though he’ll tell me that marriage was anything but pleasant, all I can see of it is how wonderfully they get along now and how cooperative they are in their parenting efforts; and on occasion, I’ll accidentally run into some romantic remnant of their relationship together—making the entire thing seem so incredibly beautiful. And sometimes I only see the ugly parts of our marriage, and how it always seems too much to handle. But glimpses of the beautiful parts remind of the meaning of my life and I can’t give that up despite feeling overwhelmed and confused.

I once read that adopted children gain a greater sense of identity because they struggle harder to define themselves. Nothing seems healthier to me than really knowing who you are and what you want, so reading that made me happy for them. I think I have a strong sense of identity because of the struggles in my life and I like to think that struggling to make marriage fulfilling for the HB and I will hopefully someday give us a greater sense of unity than those who haven’t needed to. I like to think that.

kissing teens

My office at work is on the ground level. There's a large and open window well sort of in front of my windows that faces the street. Out of the corner of my eye is a bus stop, a little roofed structure, for the Park City bus. Recently there were 2 teenagers sitting behind the bus stop, on the grass, smoking cigarettes, dressed in all black, kissing, laying on the grass together, rolling on top of each other. Four of us watched from the office window, some just entertained, one guy, commenting on how upset their parents would be if they knew. But me, I thought the whole thing was sweet.

There are so many different ways of looking at love. The HB and I went to see the movie Paris Je T’aime on Monday. While we were sitting in the parking lot, windows down, eating our dinner, a patron of the nearby outdoor pub walked over to a car parked a couple over from us and proceeded to urinate on it. He returned to the pub and two more people, a male and a female walked over to the same car and urinated on it. It was strange because I wasn’t disgusted, I just thought it was strange and wondered why they were doing it. The movie was refreshing, I especially loved the segment by Alfonso Cuaron. Afterwards it seemed natural that those people would urinate on that car like they did—not because it’s acceptable—but because the world is full of surprises, it’s full of people doing things they wouldn’t normally do, it’s full of people falling in love with the wrong person, or making an unlikely match. And that makes me happy.