Pride doth come before the fall

I have a confession to make. I think Indie music is really cool and I pride myself on knowing about bands before they hit the "mainstream." Then I sullenly shun them when they get "too mainstream" (except I don't really shun them, I just pretend to and then still listen to them, but with the caveat "They're really good even though they're so popular.")

I guess you could say I'm one of those people who liked The Shins before Garden State and feels superior to those who only know about The Shins because of Garden State.

(P.S. I only found out about them because of my way cooler and way more alternative friend, Maddie)

Now that I have a full time job, I don't have as much time to sit in my room with the lights off and my eyes closed and listen to an artist's entire album (a technique I learned from my dad who developed it during his lonely Friday nights in high school when all his friends were out smoking weed).

So now I have to resign myself to just being happy with catching glimpses of new artists on college radio stations or Pandora recommendations. "Still," I tell myself, "at least not everyone has heard of this band! I'm still unique!"

And then along comes Buzzfeed to slap my ego with the irony of ironies: Indie music is just as mass-produced as any other genre and just as easy to replicate following a few simple rules.

 Sounds pretty similar to every other "Indie" band out there, right?

Now, one could argue that the folks over at Buzzfeed have the advantage of just being able to critique and not create. True enough, but this hit a nerve with me that got me thinking.

Music is meant to unify people by expressing universal themes in a way that can not be told in any other medium, so why would I want to be the "only one" who knows about a beautiful (or, let's be honest, catchy) song or band? Wouldn't it be better if everyone in the world were able to hear this?

In a perfect world, yes. But in this world, pride and despair take root in our hearts in many different ways.

The reason many people are so into "discovering new" whatever or liking said whatever "before it was cool" is because we all have a deep desire to be known for something irreplaceable. We want to be thought of as "that one person" who has something so unique to offer the world that no one else has.

Of course, each person does have something unique and irreplaceable to offer the world: their whole person. However, in an overly-manufactured world that values utility over beauty, that message can be lost and distorted.Too often we forget that we are irreplaceable persons, that just being is enough.

Whether it's pride in being able to quote complete works of 19th century Eastern European authors, having the hottest bod, or knowing where the best hole in the wall brunch place is, make sure you don't let yourself think that that's the "one thing" that makes you you.

The only place we can receive total validation is in knowing that we were created in the Image and Likeness of God and that we express a part of Him no one else can.

Or as Papa Benedict told us, "We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God." (Inaugural Mass, 4.25.05)


And you should also know that I still love a good hand-clap intro.

(You should further know that the best place to find a good band (in my opinion) is searching Sub Pop Records' artists.)

Upon further reflection, as usual

Quite possibly one of the most awkward, but refreshing, dates I have been on in a while (OK, I don't date a lot [read: at all] so let's call it ever, just to be fair).

I met up with an acquaintance I'd met at a friend of a friend's birthday party in Lima last week. Our first encounter was him trying to teach me how to dance and saying that I needed to move my hips more.

Except, he didn't know what the word was and even though I told him, he kept pronouncing it "tips."

So, Miguel spends the evening telling me I needed to move my "tips" more for Latin dancing and I tried my best to comply, but mostly I just stared at his feet and tried to match his steps.

Later on, he pulled me over in front of his friend with a camera, so thankfully the whole disaster was documented for posterity:

Nice shoes, hombre.

Before I left, he called me over by gesturing with his hands in a way that usually means, "Shoo! Go away!" But, he kept saying, "Come, come!" So I walked over to see that his friend has already uploaded the pictures to his laptop and Miguel wanted to show me because he was "so happy that I have pictures of you now!"

Yikes.

Despite my better judgement, I told him my actual name so he could find me on facebook and, lo and behold, I had a friend request from the guy who kept telling me I needed to move my "tips" more and was so happy to have pictures of me.

I met up with him for coffee (in broad daylight and after telling Ursula a million times where I was going and exactly when I would be back) and it turns out most of the phrases from our facebook messages that I took to be awkward were so mainly because of the language barrier.

We got to talking and he asked me whether or not I had a boyfriend. When I told him no, he asked why not, which I took to be a cheesy pick-up line, so I laughed at him.

But, he insisted that he honestly wanted to know why not.

I resisted every urge to roll my eyes and appear as the superior sex and then began my well-worn (but slightly politer, for purposes of international relations) tirade against single men in general, but found that the more I tried to explain their issues, I was faced with a blatant avoidance of my problems.

I tried to explain how men just don't know what they want and never take the initiative in relationships. Fair enough, but do I even know exactly what I want? And when have I ever gone out of my way to actually invest in a relationship (to an appropriate extent, of course) with a man for interests other than romance?

At one moment, he asked me point blank to tell him something about myself and I just came up with nothing and changed the subject. Sure, that could be chalked up to prudence, but, more likely was a result of fear. (Perhaps this point will require a separate post later).

Then, I went on to realize that even now, when someone was asking me to tell him about myself, I was avoiding talking about, duh, myself. I realized that even though I want to be known, I have a very hard time letting anyone in for fear of you name it (rejection, judgement, misunderstanding, pain, all around awkwardness in general) to the point that I will only let anyone in once they have proven they are absolutely-without-a-doubt-totally-100%-trustworthy to me.

So, Miguel, to answer your question honestly, I am not seeing anyone somewhat because of outside circumstances (travel for work, just haven't met the right guy), but mostly because I have operated from a position of mistrust of others for most of my life and am still trying to break out of it (and probably always will be).

Furthermore, I have an extremely difficult time being vulnerable (I should probably note that "vulnerable" for phlegmatic melancholic introverts like me is probably the same thing as daily interactions for extroverts ... or so I imagine) with anyone save a few close friends and family members (and now apparently anyone reading this blog ... double yikes) which makes it, in turn, difficult for others to open up to me in a way that goes beyond surface level.

So, thanks for the cup of coffee and self-revelation.

All the single ladies

Ok, ok. I know I said I'd be better about keeping current with this blog (wait, I didn't say that? Well, I thought it and that's basically the same thing to me -- just ask anyone who tries to text me). Anywho, I'm using the excuse that I just moved into a new house (read: duplex with a massive basement and even massiver garage) and have not set up internet yet.

However, I do have a few thoughts that I believe are worthy of your perusal.

I am not ok with being single.

There, I said it. Now, before you go rolling your eyes and thinking that I'm trying to turn this blog into a listing for CatholicMatch.com, let me explain.

Singlehood is not my vocation. Yes yes, I know that there are beautiful consecrated virgins, but I'm talking about this whole phase of perpetual adolescence that our generation seems to be obsessed with, well, perpetuating.

This revelation was brought on by a conversation with a friend of mine who mentioned that she had a friend who made a similar statement and I realized, hey, me too!

Don't get me wrong. I love getting to stay up drinking and talking with friends, being able to make last minute plans without having to consult anyone, spending my money on clothes I don't really need, going to the gym whenever I feel like it and not having to check with anyone when my boss asks me if I want to go to India.

But, I wonder, is this helping me become a better version of my self?

Maybe a physically stronger fitter, more stylish, better-traveled and more worldly version, yes. But a more selfless, patient, loyal, compassionate, humble, loving and nurturing version? Meh, not so much.

Enter, Marriage: otherwise known as the Gauntlet of Self-Sacrifice or the Marathon of Humility and Patience. Every single day is a challenge to die to yourself in ways you never even thought possible.

Now, I realize that I can also be more aware of the sacrifices God is calling me to make already. Don't cuss out that driver for cutting you off, try to be more pleasant and courteous to co-workers, accept humiliation and misjudging happily, etc. But, dang girl, there ain't nothing like hanging out with my little nephews for a few hours to give me a dose of the kind of holy stamina that is required to be a mother and wife.

Does this mean that I am going to go off on a Husband Hunt and will fling myself at the first male I see with a Miraculous medal hanging around his neck?

No. (But I might walk by a couple times to check if he has a wedding ring on, at least.)

What it does mean is that we single folks need to remember that this stage of arrested development is not our vocation. You don't see men who know they are called to be priests just hang around churches hoping they'll somehow miraculously be turned into a priest. Women who are called to be sisters or nuns don't just hang around convents until a habit mysteriously appears on their heads.

They study, prepare, and pray to transform their lives to be made ready for their calling of a life of devotion to the Church.

I don't know exactly what this kind of preparation would look like for a single person, but marriage prep is not confined to the engagement period or even in dating.

Everyday we can choose to become more like the spouse we'd like to one day marry instead of just accepting singlehood as our destined lot in life.

I'm going to be honest folks, I have no prospects, but instead of going all Charlotte Lucas on a dude, I can have hope that the right man will come along eventually if we're both seeking God's will.

 And in the meantime, we can try and be even cooler people for the one we've yet to meet.

Sometimes people do not know what I'm talking about

I believe it is high time I defined some of the terms I use on this blog so any people actually reading this will actually know what I am referring to. So in absolutely no alphabetical or coherent order here it is:

a Hunky Boy- refers to any young male I happen to take a fancy to at any given time. Due to my track record, it is safe to assume this situation generally ends in tragedy, and not even the interesting, poetic Shakespearean kind of tragedy. More like the anti-climactic, "Oh, he's dating that babe now?" kind of tragedy. Not to be confused with The Hunky Boy, which is the man I am going to marry, but have yet to meet.

babe- a complimentary term referring to a lovely lady. Don't worry, radical feminists, I'm a female so I can use this term without it being derogatory.

footer- (foo-tur) a person in the early stages of childhood who is especially precocious, (ie; my brother Patrick from age 0-9) and thinks he or she rules the world (and is usually right). They are known to wander over to the neighbor's house to knock back a couple root beers with the retired naval officer (whilst their family frantically searches) at age three.

Muriel - a little girl of the footer persuasion who was in the elementary school class I volunteered in during high school. The stories I told my family about her were so awkward and strange that my sister decided to call me by that name whenever I do anything strange or awkward (which is often).

Successful encounters with men- ok, so I stole this from an episode of 30 Rock. For me, it refers to any horribly awkward interaction with a male that I experience. I count this as "successful" because it is a) an encounter with a male (an anomaly in my life) and b) I am using sarcasm to cover up my utter embarrassment or discomfort.

Singlehood- my current status of not being married or in a romantic relationship. This episode, however lonely at times, is not to be spent wallowing in self-pity and gallons of cookies-and-cream ice cream (well, maybe sometimes). It is meant to be spent reveling in the freedom which my situation provides me which I will not be able to do once married. Ie; eating cereal for dinner (no one else to cook for), spending an entire day wandering around Denver (no other schedule to coordinate with), watching chick flicks with no sarcastic commentary (except my own), going to plays, museums, movies, etc. alone (very empowering if you've never done it before and are afraid of it), volunteering, bedecking my apartment with utterly feminine decor (hell yeah, I've got throw pillows and chandelier print lamp shades) and living in joyful expectation of the man (not perpetual adolescent) God has in mind for me.

Hopefully this will give you a little insight into the vocabulary that is generally only used in my interior dialogue.