roommate memories

I am now weddinged-out. Since July, I have been in three weddings, one involving a childhood friend and two involving former roommates. Thankfully, for all three, I had very good memories so when given the chance to offer a few remarks on the occasion, I usually had a lot to say. Even for this last one. Erin and I were roommates about four years ago, but we still kept in touch over the years. So I was more than honored that she wanted me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. Especially given, as you will read below, the kind of relationship we had during our roommate years. Note my effort to be sweet while avoiding sappiness. I think it worked. But you be the judge.

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It could possibly be billed as the understatement of the year, but Erin, you and I are very different people. When we first met, in August of 2004, I was a 20-year-old exuberant Canadian, opinionated and proud of it. You were a shy, blond senior, preparing for your fourth and final year of school, as well as your fourth and final roommate. Our relationship could have been fated for disaster. But for some odd and mysterious reason, it wasn’t. For some reason, we got along. Sure, we had our differences; sure, there were times when we disagreed strongly with each other, but that never stopped us from building a truly close relationship. And, as is the case with truly great relationships, we both changed because of it. I became more understanding of people with different opinions. I used to be an extremely dogmatic person, with a “my-infinitely-more-Christian-way or the highway” attitude. But you changed that. You helped me realize that there are other opinions out there and often, they prove mine to be wrong. But you changed, too. You went from a quiet girl, to one who yelled as she chased me down the stairs, brandishing a pillow as I imagine Beowulf would (if he were into pillow fights). Erin, you were the perfect roommate for that pivotal freshman year, the year where new habits are formed and old habits are reconsidered. And I thank you for it. I do believe that I would probably not be the person I am today, if it hadn’t been for that glorious year, when the two of us shared so much in the Nance’s basement.

And I’ll leave you with this verse, from Song of Songs 5:16—“This is my beloved, And this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!” Erin, you have been a wonderful friend to me. You have blessed me more than I can say. Now, as you go on to start a new life with Chip, I know that you will do the same for him. You will bless him. You will change him. And you will be his true friend. May the Lord pour His blessings upon you both.

if you're lost, you might as well enjoy yourself...

happiness (because I have very little of it this morning)

Macomber wanted to be happy. He wanted to be without fear, to face the lion, to shoot him without even thinking about it, to feel the "wild unreasonable happiness" that comes with the defeat of terror. Margot wanted to be happy, too. She wanted to be free from Macomber. She was tired of pretending, of being the "comparatively happily married couple, one of those whose disruption is often rumored but never occurs."And so when Macomber finally finds his happiness, Margot uses the opportunity to find hers. Each with the crack of a rifle, each with a shot to the back of their prey—the death of another created the opportunity for happiness. Happiness has its price.

Nick wanted to be happy. He wanted things to be fun, just liked they used to be. But Marjorie wasn't fun anymore. She knew everything, except the hellish turmoil inside him. He didn't know and this was the one thing that she couldn't explain it. She made love boring. And so he sent her away. Happiness has its price.

Jig wanted to be happy. She wanted him to be happy and he wanted her to be happy, too. And the solution was so simple: let the air in, let the wind take it all away, let this small problem just fly away, and they could have everything again. But Jig knew, she understood that happiness is not so simple. If you want to get something, you have to give something. And sometimes the thing you give can never come back. Happiness has its price.

* Based on Ernest Hemingway's short stories "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber," "The End of Something," and "Hills Like White Elephants"

why I should not speak to children...

As an explanation of my Facebook status...

I recently had dinner at a friend's home, and there were about three younger kids present. The one child, Eden, is a rather dramatic person and regaled us with a vivid description of her mashed potato volcano. "And look!" she exclaimed, "The corn can be rocks on the side of the volcano!"

Being a decidedly morbid person, I suggested an alternate version. "Or," I said, looking Eden straight in the eye, "the corn could be villagers climbing up the volcano in order to throw human sacrifices in."

My children are going to be warped....seriously warped.

"The Hobbit" and LOTR--the drive-by edition

NOW it all makes sense...

THE HOBBIT
Bilbo Baggins: Ah, now for some peace and quiet. Oops, someone's at thedoor.
Balin: We're dwarves. I'm the merry one.
Dwalin: I'm the happy one.
Fili: I'm the young one.
Kili: I'm the other young one.
Dori: I'm the funny one.
Nori: I'm the joyous one.
Ori: I'm the cute one.
Oin: I'm the jolly one.
Gloin: I'm the silly one.
Bifur: I'm the one with the funniest name.
Bofur: I'm the one with the looniest name.
Bombur: I'm the fat one.
Thorin: I'm the one with a distinct personality.
Gandalf: Now that you're all here, let's go on a quest.
(They get captured by TROLLS, and it is DANGEROUS, because they almost getEATEN. Then they get captured by ORCS, and it is DANGEROUS, because theyalmost get EATEN.)
Bilbo Baggins: What have I got in my pocket?
Gollum: I don't know.
(They get captured by SPIDERS, and it is DANGEROUS, because they almost getEATEN.)
Smaug: I'm an evil dragon. Hiss hiss.
(Bilbo Baggins turns INVISIBLE, and then some obscure co-star SLAYS thedragon, and it makes a MESS.)
Bilbo Baggins: I'm going home. Peace and quiet, here I come.
THE END
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THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING
Gandalf: Bilbo Baggins, your Ring is evil. In a couple decades, we'll try todestroy it. In the meantime, leave it for Frodo to play with.
Bilbo Baggins: It's not evil. It's mine. My precious. Mine! MINE, I TELLYOU!!MOOHOOHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
(Frodo takes it to RIVENDELL. Some FRIENDS come with him. They are attackedby black riders a LOT, and it is SCARY.)
Elrond: Frodo Baggins, if Sauron ever gets this Ring, the world will bedestroyed, and evil will reign forever. We must act quickly. Take the Ringto where he lives.
(They do some travelling. Some more FRIENDS come with him. Gandalf DIES inthe mines of Moria, but will later be RESURRECTED in GLORIFIED form havingtriumphed over EVIL, an obvious literary ALLUSION to that movie where theguy comes back as a DOG.)
Boromir: Frodo Baggins, give me the Ring.
Frodo: No.
Boromir: What have I done? (dies)
THE END
----------------------------------------------------------------
THE TWO TOWERS
(Gandalf frees THEODEN and overthrows SARUMAN. A bunch of IRRELEVANT stuffhappens. Then the PLOT starts up again.)
THE END
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THE RETURN OF THE KING
Aragorn: We must travel the Paths of the Dead.
Eowyn: You'll die.
(They don't.)
Gandalf: The Hordes of Mordor will destroy Minis Tirith.
(They don't.)
Gandalf: We must attack Mordor. We'll all be killed.
(They aren't.)
Gollum: Mmmm, yummy finger! (dies)
Frodo: The Ring has been destroyed, but now we will die in Mordor.
Sam: Buck up, Master Frodo.
(A bunch of feathered DEUS EX MACHINAS come out of NOWHERE and save EVERYBODY.)
THE END

the stress of having a copycat

I taught Emma how to dance yesterday. Not that I'm the best teacher...far from it. I have about as many moves as a rocking chair--a simple back-and-forth motion is pretty much all I can do. But a two-year-old can't really notice extremely poor skillz in the dancing department. The only thing she can see is that I'm doing things she's never seen before and boy, would she like to try them out! So I improvised. For "Enter Sandman" (Metallica), we tried head-banging, which looked more like vigorous nodding. For "Sweet Home Alabama" (Lynyrd Skynyrd) we did a country two-step (or at least, my version of one). For "About a Girl" (Nirvana), we did a dance reminiscent of the zombies from Michael Jackson's Thriller video, complete with grunts, groans, and strange clawing motions with our hands. For "Dream On" (Aerosmith), we stole a hairbrush from the bathroom and did our best job of lip-synching like '70s rockers. Altogether, our rock-out session was awesome.

But at the same time, the whole incident stirred up various concerns for me. I never grew up with little kids around; my youngest sibling was born when I was six, so my experience with the toddler age group is rather limited. And it never really struck me until yesterday how much little kids like to imitate us. Every move I made (or attempted to make) was immediately copied by Emma, in her own two-year-old version of the move. And I mean every single move. If I got down on my knees to look her in the eye, she would get on her knees too. If I brushed my hair out of my face, her little hand would sweep her own blonde curls behind her ears. And that scares me. These little things, these almost mindless movements are observed and then imitated. And the same goes with words. Even though her enunciation was somewhat undecipherable, I could still hear echoes of my own words as she sang along with the music. I spent less than an hour with Emma, and already she was doing exactly as I did. The influence I had on her is a scary thing. It could be good, too, if I use it right. But right now, all I hear is cheesy voice of Spiderman's uncle ringing in my ears: "With great power comes great responsibility." Such power is a frightening thing, to me. But I'm glad I got a rough estimate as to how much I seem to have. It was quite the dance lesson.

elections come and gone

We came. We saw. We voted. And nobody noticed.

But we can laugh at ourselves. Because Lord knows, everybody else laughs at us anyways.

the six phases of work

This makes me worried...am I slowly going crazy?

sounds good to me...

I love living with this family. And what makes it more fun is that Emily (the mom) is teaching me how to speak...differently. She has a rather unique way of speaking, which involved inserting words that sound like they belong, but in reality, they cause the listener to stop, stare, and say, "Huh?" The more time I spend with her, though, the more I find myself doing this exact same thing. Although, to be honest, I doubt I can top these gems:

"He was curled up in the fertile position."

"...a prescription to Playboy..."

"Whenever I see bras, I think 'Laundry thieves!'"