What's a Girl to Do?

So…I’m sick. Yesterday afternoon I was serving lattes and biscotti to people who are probably now starting to get scratchy throats. I actually took the day off—not something I normally do. I don’t generally like the idea that I’m replaceable, that the gap I’d leave if I wasn’t there to do my duties might be filled by anyone else. Anal, huh? Bet you didn’t think I was the type.

Well, I didn’t really get much in the way of a weekend, between my two jobs and my volunteering…so today was my Sunday, my Day of Rest, my Day of Recuperation. I slept in, putzed around, and most blissfully watched MacGyver Season Three episodes. Then my mom came home (with pizza and salt-n-vinegar chips!!) and we had a Veronica Mars marathon (I’m really liking that show!). It was a nice day, aside from all the coughing, congestion, and fatigue. Man, I really sound like a wimp. Hm. Something about being sick brings out the baby in me. Maybe I’m not as tough as I’d like to be, after all.

I wish, for example, that I was tough like Sydney or Veronica. Now there’s a pair of girls who know how to get things done. Whatever it takes, whatever the stakes. Wow. That sounds like an incredibly cheesy tagline. Hmm. I need to stay away from the Nyquil.

But seriously, I love the idea that I could go undercover, get the information (or, y’know, whatever) and make the world a better place. And not just metaphorically. I mean, I love the idea of an alias, of being in disguise and acting out a role…spy stuff. I’ve covered the symbolic reasons for this spy obsession of mine in my post about Alias, but I think there’s a literal side to it, too.

However, I happen to be one of those people who thinks way better on paper than in person. I’m the type who, when insulted, thinks of the perfect comeback hours—maybe days or even years—later. I could never think as quickly on my feet as Veronica or Sydney. I’m not even sure I could lie as well. And I definitely couldn’t sneak around, snooping in people’s apartments and offices. It stresses me out just to watch.

So, as they say, I’ll play to my strengths. I’ll observe, daydream, and maybe eventually write my own spy alter-ego into a story. Perhaps I’ll come up with a slightly klutzier and less self-assured Spygirl—sure, she can still kick butt, but sometimes she’ll get by on sheer luck.

What else is a girl like me to do? Y

Pursuit of the Ideal

L.M. Montgomery (famed author of the “Anne” series) once wrote a short story titled “The Pursuit of the Ideal,” and basically it was about a guy who tells his best girl friend all about his ideal woman (nearly her opposite in every way) but when he meets her, he realizes that it was his good friend who was his ideal all along. Montgomery also wrote a similar plot line with Anne, who aspired to love a dark, melancholy and poetic man, but found that in the end, she preferred Gilbert, who was not melancholy or very poetic, but laughed at her jokes and appreciated her.

The moral obviously is that what we think we want is not always what is best for us, and I think we can see that in almost any area of life.

But what, I wonder, if our ideal is someone who were are friends with, someone with whom we can laugh with, among other things? What if our ideals are things we actually know would be good for us?

In my blog on Singleness, I mentioned I’ve been single for a long time, and I briefly listed some things I’d (ideally) like in a guy. Having been single so long has a dual effect on me regarding these “ideals”: one is that I feel entitled to at least the majority of them; the other response I have is despair that I will ever find anyone who even remotely matches up.

If I were to list for you the things that I would like in a guy—The Guy—the length and elaborateness would stagger and astound you. It is the result of mentally calculating all the things I ever noticed and liked about guys I have known (whether real or *ahem!* fictional) and things I have observed in relationships. And…probably stuff from sappy chick flicks, too. I know. Shame on me for being out of touch with reality.

And some of the stuff—for example, being able to play the guitar, having an accent of some kind, driving a motorcycle—isn’t really important at all. It’s just fluff. Although…the guitar thing…….no, okay, really, I’m fine. I’m back to reality now. Not important.

Some things are only relatively important, like having the same taste in literature or music or movies. I don’t expect any guy (or anyone, for that matter) to like everything that I like. But at the very least I’d like to think he wouldn’t bash it, to my face, if he knows I love it. It’s okay to disagree on things, to have differing opinions, certainly. Everyone has different tastes. I’m pretty opinionated myself at times. Most times. But for example, tonight a guy was saying some harsh stuff about my favorite band ever. Ouch. Right after I said they were my favorite band ever. Really ouch. Not scoring any points there. Not that he was trying to. But you get the point.

I have decided, however, that a few things really are important to me. Like, non-negotiable. I know, you’re thinking, he has to be a Christian, right? Yes. Of course. That’s a given. But more than that, I want him to be a deep, strong Christian. A Ransomed Heart Christian. The kind of guy who’s read Wild at Heart by John Eldredge and has already gone on his journey with God to learn who he is as a man.

Why is that an Ideal? you may very well ask. Well, let me just say that Mr. Eldredge’s writings have been extremely meaningful and influential to me and my journey as a Christian, and as a woman. I will save further details for another blog at another time.

One thing I really liked about Wild at Heart (which I am currently re-reading) is that although the book was written primarily to give men permission to be men, in the process, it also gave me permission to be a woman. It told me that it was okay to want a strong guy who would fight for me. More than okay—it said it was good! No one had ever really said that before.

It’s a little embarrassing to admit in today’s culture of strong, feminist, “girl-power” women that I actually would like a guy to fight for me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am capable of fighting for myself. But I don’t want to always have to. I like it when chicks kick butt (hello, Alias?  Princess Leia?) but I also tend to really love the heroes in the story.

Think with me now: William Wallace (Braveheart), Aragorn, Spider-Man, Han Solo…these are men who fight for what they believe in, they fight to free and help people. And they also fight for the woman they love. And deep down, I think every woman longs to truly be fought for—not necessarily in the physical sense, punches being thrown and all that, but to know that she is worth the risk. That’s not an Ideal, that’s a part of being a woman.

I know, this all sounds rather silly and perhaps a bit juvenile. The fancies of a girl who’s lost touch with reality. Knights in shining armor and all that…who needs it today? Who even really believes it’s possible? Well, I don’t know how possible or probable it is for me…but for right now, all I have is my Ideal. It’ll Have to Do, as Dean Martin sang, Until the Real Thing Comes Along. 

Simple Pleasures

When I was in high school, my best friend and I bought pins from Claire’s that said: “Of course Blondes have more fun; it takes so little to entertain them.” Melissa and I thought this was hilarious, and we were blondes. Normally I don’t go in for blonde jokes, but it was true: it did take little to amuse me. The fact of the matter is, I’ve always been relatively easy to please.

When I was a young child, before my brother was born (so, zero to four) my parents could leave me alone in my room for hours playing with legos or my stuffed animals and dolls. I would draw and make little booklets, read, and make up my own songs. I could entertain myself very well.

Things haven’t changed that much. In college, I could spend hours with a stack of magazines, a pair of scissors, a roll of tape, and my favorite sappy movies. I did collages and watched videos on my roommate’s TV. (Yes, videos. Believe it or not, DVDs were very rare when I was in college....does that make me old? Wait, don't answer that) I should have been studying, but that’s beside the point. And it wouldn’t have been entertaining or amusing.

Today I am also feeling rather pleased, and it’s not because I spent part of the day on the computer and part of it shopping. It’s because of what I got. Now I know, money can’t buy happiness…but it can buy it for a little while. At least for thirty hours or so, enough time to watch the entire first season of LOST and some of the bonus features available on the DVD. And another twenty some hours to watch the second season of MacGyver. (*sigh.*)

If being a bit of a Drama Queen means I am sometimes prone to making a big deal out of things that really aren’t so bad once put in perspective, then the flip side is that I also get easily satisfied by small things. New clothes, new haircut, a good book, a good movie, a good song, a purring cat in my lap: all make me happy. I was happy yesterday because my CD player in my car started working again and I got to listen to Nichole Nordeman on the way home from work.

Maybe it’s flippancy; maybe it’s shallowness; maybe it’s being easily content. All I know is I enjoy life’s simple pleasures, and I like that I enjoy them. I’m not saying that anyone should let his or her happiness hang on material goods or their circumstances, but I do think if more people derived happiness from the little things, maybe we’d all be happier more of the time. I know it does sound flippant to be so happy about a TV show, but if you read my post about Alias, you’d know that at least some of my guilty pleasures have good reasons behind them.

But right now I’m so tired that the thing I’d get the most enjoyment from is going to sleep. G’night. Y

"Christian" Fiction

I am an aspiring author. That’s what it says in my profile to the right. Basically it means that I really really like to write (hence, the blog that I pound away on for a very small audience) and that I hope one day to be published and recognized as an author. As opposed to a girl who works for a dentist and at a coffee shop and writes in her spare time.

I have actually written a book; I hope to be self-publishing it in the next couple of months. You can read a little more about it on my humble web page, listed under my links to the right. I’m not going to synopize it right here. But if “Found Phoebe” does get taken on by Red Lead Press, you can be assured that I will also add a link to where you can order it online.

A lot of people have asked me, “Is this a Christian book?” The answer is: yes and no. First of all, no, it is not an explicitly Christian book. By this I mean that Phoebe does not go to church, have a conversion experience, nor is there any mention of God. But at the same time, yes, it is a Christian book because I am a Christian, and I am the author. My worldviews are inherent in my writing, just as “The Lord of the Rings” was not an explicitly Christian book, either, yet is loved by many Christians because of the deep theological themes found there. I am not comparing myself to J.R.R. Tolkien; I am just using his work as an illustration. Although my book is not exactly an allegory, there are parallels and Christian themes in the story; furthermore, my book does not endorse any unscriptural activities.

But as a Christian Author, and even just as a Christian Philosopher in college, I have wrestled with this question: what makes something “Christian Art”? I actually took a whole class about it my senior year, thank you, Dr. Wilson.

I think as Christians, we have a tendency to separate ourselves so much from the mainstream culture that we have created our own little bubble of a sub-culture. There was a time in my life when I thought this was good, but I don’t any more. Part of the problem is that the mainstream market has become so liberal that there isn’t a lot of market for Christian religious art. To compensate, we created publishing houses and media companies that would produce Christian art. But to whom? Not to the world, who needs it the most. But to us, so that we could be surrounded only by what is good and theologically sound.

Yes, I know the verse in Philippians where Paul tells us what things we should think on. And I know we are called to be set apart, to live in the world , but not be of it, and certainly not to love the world or anything in it.

But if Christian musicians are just singing about God’s love to Christians, and Christian authors are just writing books about living life as a Christian and selling it only in Christian bookstores, how are we changing the world?

I am not ashamed that my book does not have the plan of salvation in it. I think God uses all things to draw men to him. I think he uses people who don’t even know Him to spread truth, without them even knowing it. I think His truth can be found in very unexpected places, because it is His world, and He is sovereign, and He has put truth in our hearts. I think you can find elements of the gospel everywhere: in movies like Braveheart and Star Wars, in shows like LOST and ALIAS, and in books like Susan Cooper’s “The Dark is Rising Sequence” and yes, dangit, even in the Harry Potter books.

I still haven’t finished “Heaven is Not My Home,” but I do agree with Dr. Paul Marshall that it is our responsibility as Christians to redeem the world, and to bring to light those truths we find. “Found Phoebe” is about fairies and fairy tales. Why? Because fairy tales (as John Eldredge and even C.S. Lewis would say) present a deep view of reality. They show us what is really going on. As does all effective art, Christian or not. 

ALIAS

I love Alias. I do. I just bought Season One this weekend—I got it previously viewed from Blockbuster so it was only $25!!! I love bargains!—and I finally watched the first three episodes last night. I really love it. And I think I’ve finally figured out why.

There are many reasons to like Alias. There is Sydney Bristow (played brilliantly by Jennifer Garner) for starters; I’m hard-pressed to think of any guys who don’t like her. Or girls, for that matter, though not quite in the same way—they save that for Michael Vaughn. There’s the action: Sydney is just awesome at kicking butt and not taking crap from anyone. I mean, talk about girl power. There are the very, very cool gadgets, usually provided by the very nerdy but nonetheless adorable and funny Marshall.

There is the music, from J.J. Abram’s opening theme, to the song selections for each episode, to the scoring by the brilliant Michael Giaccino (who also does the fantastic music for LOST). There are the plot lines: not too hard to follow if you keep up, and with enough twists and turn to leave you surprised. Often VERY surprised (Season Four finale, anyone?).

Then there are the characters. They are very complex and fascinating; real, three-dimensional, believable, and sometimes unpredictable. They are strong, smart, funny, snarky, ruthless; you either love or hate them—sometimes both in the same moment—but very rarely do you just not care about a character. They are human; they mess up, make mistakes, fight, and do their best to do what they think is right.

But I think the real reason I love it—along with thousands of other viewers—lies elsewhere. I think it has more to do with…escapism. Or just fantasy-ism in general. I’m talking about a preoccupation with spies that goes back almost to childhood for me. It started with mysteries and sleuths in grade school, like Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden and their ability to sneak around and dig up clues and pay attention to small details. It progressed to shows in my pre and early teen years like Remington Steele, Scarecrow and Mrs. King, and my favorites Mission: Impossible and MacGyver (*sigh* who deserves his own blog of tribute). Really, with a background like that, it was only a matter of time before I fell for Alias.

It’s perfect, really. For one whole hour every week, I get to be a spy. I get to vicariously live out my secret espionage desires. I get to see the world, kick butt, save lives, and the best part is, I come home without a scratch. Or any bruises. Or the fear of retaliation. Living out as Sydney, I get to imagine what it’s like to be an important part of a critical and covert organization.

I get to pretend for a little while that I have a vital role to play, a job that no one else can do as well as me, a role that no one else can fill, a job that could very well save the world. I get to go behind enemy lines, sneak into their base camp, and steal back valuable items and information, even rescue people.

John Eldredge would probably say that the reason I like Alias so much is that it is a picture of me and my role in the Larger Story—the Story we all are living out every day. He doesn’t normally write about spy stuff—he’s more into epics, fairytales, and war-ridden dramas—so I’m just speculating here. But all that stuff about being behind enemy lines, and going undercover, having a critical role to play—that stuff is so Eldredge.

In his book “Waking the Dead” (in my favorites list, I recommend it to everyone) he outlines three Eternal Truths that we find in stories we love.

1. Things are not what they seem.
2. This is a world at war.
3. You have a crucial role to play.

I can see all of these applying to Alias. Things are not what they seem. No one is what he or she seems. Sydney is not just another pretty face. Her father is not just an aloof airplane parts salesman. Even Vaughn, we learn, is not really Michael Vaughn. (Whatever that means, J.J.!!) SD-6 is not part of the CIA. As far as being at war goes, there are always bad guys to fight, some more prevalent than others. And Sydney, as well as the other main characters like Jack, Vaughn and Marshall all absolutely have a crucial role to play.

And so it relates to us; this is why we love it. Because we know that in our world, also, nothing is ever quite what it seems at first glance. There is conflict going on everyday with everyone. And whether we feel it or not, we each do have an important role to play, something designed just for us in all our uniqueness. Maybe it’s not as dramatic or dangerous as what Sydney does, but…since nothing is what it seems…then again, maybe it is.

Singleness

This morning I went to church with my parents. Usually I go on Saturday nights, to Community Worship at Memorial Park. But my dad recently got a job at North park Church, and they wanted to introduce him to the congregation. And he wanted the family to be there. No problem. My brother Kyle and I showed up (thankfully) right on time and took a seat. I was looking kinda cute—at least, I was wearing a blouse, skirt and heels, which is a bit of a stretch for a jeans-and-tee girl like me.

So they go through the announcements and a testimony and a couple of songs and finally ask my parents to go to the front. My dad says he was nervous, but it didn’t show. He was cracking jokes and keeping everyone’s attention. And then he decided to introduce us, his “adult children.” Kyle and I politely stood to say hi to everyone. And then he said it: “And they’re both single.” I sat down immediately. The congregation erupted into laughter.

It’s not that I minded or that I was even mad; it’s more of the label that bothers me. “Single.” Alone. Unpaired. Yeah, okay, so I’m single. Really single.

And if you know me, or if you have read my profile, you know that I’m twenty-six. Twenty-six and single. Is that as depressing as it sounds? I have other friends from college in the same boat. Even a couple that are still living at home, like me. (If you read my earlier posts about jobs it should be abundantly clear that I do not make enough to afford rent and other utilities.)

Most of the time I don’t mind being single. I’ve lived with it for a long time. I like my independence. But I happen to be an incurable romantic. If you look at my favorite movies list, you’ll see a few chick flicks in there. I have more. I am a SAP. When I watch movie and TV shows, I hope that the main characters fall in love and find happiness by then end. I’m a “shipper:” I root for certain couples to get and/or stay together. (Sidebar: some of my favorites include: Sydney and Vaughn from Alias; Bright and Hannah from Everwood; Sun and Jin from Lost; Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter; and Han and Leia from Star Wars.)

The Point: My Independence and my Hopeless Romantic-ness are quite often at odd with each other. Yes, I’d like to find someone and settle down. Yes, I’d like to get married and have a few kids someday. But I’m afraid I have too many unrealistic expectations planted in my head by my favorite sappy movies. I’m also afraid that some of the standards and things I’m looking for in a guy just aren’t ever going to come together. Deep down I think I do believe that there is a guy out there suited for me just as I am for him, whether or not he happens to be a Scottish, guitar-playing, intellectual, funny, adventurous Christian man. But some days it just seems like I’ll be stuck being labeled “single” forever. It wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to me, but it’s not what I’m hoping for.

But don’t you dare recommend E-harmony to me.