Three Short(ish) Thoughts

My Dear Reader,

I don't really have a coherent post for you right now, but I do have some short thoughts I'd like to share. Here we go:

1. They always tell you to be the change you want to see in the world. What they don't tell you is that until people start catching on, it just kinda sucks.

-Or-

Sometimes being yourself means being alone.

I honestly, truly believe that every person in this world has a function. I believe that God places each of us in certain families, in certain situations, and with certain abilities. And I think that God expects us to go out in the world and do things that no one else can do. And that makes us stand out from other people. It makes us an ensign of other possibilities, and if we're lucky, an agent of change.

But being an agent of change on a large scale is something most often seen in Disney sports movies. Most of the time, people see that you're different, but they don't get that you're doing it on purpose, and that you have a reason, and that you honestly believe that being who you are makes the world a better place. And most of the time, they try to ignore that part of you, or they ignore all of you.

But you know, sometimes it's really the only thing you can do. Anything else just feels wrong. And if God is on your side, it doesn't really matter if people don't get it. It hurts, but it doesn't change the fact that you have to be what God made you to be. You can't let the apathy or disgust of others stop you from improving the world in whatever capacity you can.

And even though it sucks, and it's lonely, it's also incredibly noble. Noble isn't a bad thing to be.


2. I don't think that I've ever met a person who didn't want to change me. And that might occasionally be a good thing.

I'm starting to think that the whole I-love-you-just-the-way-you-are thing is just a myth. Or a lie we tell ourselves. I mean, I have friends who wish I enjoyed shopping with them. Or who wish that I wasn't quite as loud and verbose. Or, you know, lots of things. It's the kind of thing that used to get me down a lot, because the TV tells me that people are supposed to love me, warts and all. But I'm starting to realize that I want other people to change, too. Usually just in little ways, and usually it all goes unsaid. But you know, I still care about them. Sometimes I want them to change because I care about them. Sometimes I want them to make choices that will increase their happiness. I don't think that wanting people to change always means that you don't love them. It definitely can mean that, of course. Sometimes you want people to change for reasons that are selfish or petty. But sometimes it means that you love them truly and deeply.

Because a mother's love is supposed to be the strongest love in the world, right? But my Madre has never stopped giving me suggestions on how to be a better person. And that does not even compare with the rebukes I've gotten from God, who loves perfectly. I mean, He wants me to change like you would not believe.

I think they ask me to change because they see a kind of potential in me that I can't always see in myself. And really, without these people in my life, I wouldn't have had the motivation to push myself and become stronger.


3. Someone who truly cares about you will be thrilled when you improve yourself. Someone who is using you will feel threatened.

This is kind of the flip-side of people who want you to change: there are people who want you to stay the same. More specifically, there are people who want you to stay inferior to them. This inferiority can come in multiple incarnations: monetarily, professionally, socially, psychologically, etc. These are people who may or may not be close to you, and sometimes they can lead you to believe that they don't care about the differences between you. They want you to believe that even though you're on different levels, they still value you.

But everything changes when you start changing. Maybe you get an education. Maybe you land a good job. Maybe you find yourself in a healthy romantic relationship. Or maybe you just grow up a little. Either way, things are going good for you, and when they can't stand it, you can finally see their true colors.

Everyone knows that bullies pick on people in order to boost their own damaged egos. This is kind of the same principle, but it's used in a more subtle way. They need you to be low in order to feel high, but they do it as your friend instead of your enemy.

Of course, we all do this to some extent. As a big sister, I can tell you that more than once I found myself very upset when my younger siblings out-shined me in any way. On some level, this is natural. We grow out of it as we mature. But it can get pretty twisted when it gets extreme. I know people who have structured every single relationship on this principle. They are usually deeply unhappy, and they're getting more miserable by the minute. Because when your sense of self worth is dependent on others, it is always at risk of collapsing.

But when you can be truly happy for other people's success, you become liberated. You realize that your worth as an individual is independent and steady. You start to see yourself as a part of a great human family in which success is always a source of joy. And, more importantly, you start to truly experience unselfish love. The freedom in that is just exhilarating.


So, in conclusion:

I want to strive every day to bring good into this world, even if my methods seem odd. I want to find different ways to bring light into this life, and I want to share that light with everybody. And sure, that's something of a journey, and the road might not always be pleasant. But I want to surround myself with people who lift me up, who challenge me and want me to succeed. I want to be loved by people who find joy in my happiness. I want to be in a place where one person's happiness is enjoyed unselfishly by everybody else.

Who wants to join me?

Regards, best wishes, and I hope I wasn't too much of a downer,

-Cecily Jane

Dating and Dollar Bills

My Dear Reader,

Over the past few days I’ve been thinking a lot about an address given by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf in April 2010, entitled “You Are My Hands.” One part in particular sticks out to me:

"One woman who had been through years of trial and sorrow said through her tears, 'I have come to realize that I am like an old twenty-dollar bill—crumpled, torn, dirty, abused, and scarred. But I am still a twenty-dollar bill. I am worth something. Even though I may not look like much and even though I have been battered and used, I am still worth the full twenty dollars.'"

As I consider that quote, I couldn’t help but think that there have been so many times in my life when I’ve wanted to shout a similar message to the world. I’ve just wanted to take out a megaphone and say, at full volume, “I am worth something! I am battered and worn, but I am worth something!”

And let me tell you, nothing in my life makes me want to shout that more than the decade or so that I’ve spent in and out of the dating scene. But I’m not alone in this. I know too many people who have, like me, gone through some trials in life. Sometimes these trials leave scars that we try desperately to hide, but all of the storms we’ve weathered have made us stronger. And what is so incredibly frustrating is that when it comes to dating, people ignore the strength and fixate on the scars.

So, for today, I’d like to riff off of the ideas in that quote for a bit by telling you a story I just made up.

On a nice, spring morning, I walk into a store. After a few minutes of thoughtful browsing, I pick up a book and bring it to the cashier to pay for it. When the cashier informs me that the total due is twenty dollars, I pull out that crumpled and worn twenty-dollar bill and place it on the counter. I see the cashier’s face twist into an expression of disgust as he picks up my bill between his thumb and forefinger as if any more physical contact would be bad for his health.

“This isn’t enough,” he says.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“This bill is obviously used, and who knows where it’s been. You’ll need more if you want to buy the book.”

“But,” I politely counter, “it’s still a twenty-dollar bill. It’s worth just as much as any other twenty would be.”

“Really?” He sneers at me. “Says who?”

“The Government of the United States of America.”

“Oh,” he waves a hand in the air as if to dismiss the notion, “them.”

Before I can say another word, the cashier rummages around behind the counter, eventually producing a rubber ball attached to a wooden paddle.

“Here,” he says, beaming with pride, “your ugly twenty-dollar bill can buy this.”

It’s all I can do to stare at the man in stupefied confusion. How can he think that a paddle ball would be an apt substitution for the book I want? I didn’t just grab the book on a whim because I thought it might look good on my shelf. I chose that book because I read the back of the cover, flipped through the pages, and came to the conclusion that the book might do me good. How can a paddle ball even compare?

“Just out of curiosity,” I finally say, “how much would that cost if I had a clean, crisp bill?”

“One dollar,” he answers.

And that’s the point where I just get mad. How can this cashier think that a crisp one-dollar bill was worth as much as my battered twenty-dollar bill? Doesn’t he know that I could go to any bank in the country and easily get that ragged bill exchanged for a new one?

And for one, brief moment, I almost want to do just that. I want to leave the store and come back with exactly what he thinks he wants, just to show him that I can.

But then I regain my senses, and I realize how childish I’m being. I don’t need to take this! I earned that twenty dollars with my own sweat and tears, dime by dime, and there is no way that I’m going to hand it over for something I could get at the fair for free.  I know what it’s worth, even if this pompous idiot doesn’t. If I give him what he wants, isn’t that the same as saying that my bill is worthless?

So, instead, I walk out of the store.

There are other stores out there, and other cashiers who have at least a rudimentary understanding of how currency works. I’ll find one of those. Maybe they won’t have the same book, but at least they’ll take my money for what it’s worth. Maybe they’ll even have something I like better. I won’t know until I try.


And that, my Dear Reader, is kind of how I feel like the dating world is sometimes. Sometimes, you just want to stand on your soap box and tell the world that even though you may not look like much, and even though you have been battered and used, you're actually better for it. You're not a soldier who earned badges sitting behind a desk; you've been out there in the field and you have the scars and muscles to prove it.

If only other people saw it that way.

Oh, well. You and I, Dear Reader, know better than that. We know that we are too valuable to give away what is precious to us to those who don't understand our worth. Because, really, that would be self-betrayal, wouldn't it?

Regards, best wishes, and people who see the strength inside of you,

-Cecily Jane

Facebook and Hashtags

My Dear Reader,

I had to wait an extra day to post this one, just because the levity of this topic might be inappropriate on a day like yesterday.

But really, this is something I should have talked about a long, long time ago.

Hashtags, people.

On Facebook.

Not okay.

In case you're not familiar with my terminology, a hashtag is a feature on twitter. When you write a tweet, you can put a pound sign (#) in front of a word and automatically turn that word into a special kind of link. This link doesn't send you to a webpage, though. Instead, it brings up all of the other posts that mention it. This is useful on twitter, where all information is open to the public. It's a way of connecting unrelated people who are tweeting about the same topic. For example:

Someone posts a tweet with a hashtag:

Tweeter 1: "With great power comes great responsibility." #Spiderman

And you think, golly gee, I want to know what EVERYONE has to say about Spider-Man. So you click the hashtag, and you get something like this:

Tweeter 24: "Dude, I sure love Spiderman. He's the bomb-diggity!"

Tweeter 7: "And then I told him, I said, 'Hey look, at least I don't wear Spider-Man underwear!"

Tweeter 3455: "Is there going to be a new Spider-Man movie soon?"

Tweeter 865: "Who on Earth is Gwen Stacey?" #Spiderman #burningquestions

Tweeter 643643: "And then we shot silly string at each other in the face all afternoon. #Spiderman"


And there you have it. A gateway to a global conversation. Pretty neat.

Really, a hashtag is like a file folder. Every time you add it to your tweet, you are putting it in the same category as a thousand other tweets by a thousand people. It's a very useful tool when you're on a open-to-the-public social media platform like Twitter.

But bringing hashtags to twitter is like bringing a basketball onto a canoe. I mean you can, but why? Doesn't it just get in the way?

Facebook is fundamentally different that Twitter in the way it deals with privacy. You can't search for a Facebook status via Google. You have to have an account and often some kind of relationship with a person in order to see any of their status updates. So, of course, Facebook isn't going to let you automatically link your status updates to similar updates from strangers across the planet. On Twitter, that would be adding to a global conversation. On Facebook it's violation of the expectation of privacy.

Still, people still want to file their status updates the same way they can file their tweets. Somewhere along the way, people started to like the idea of putting tweets or status updates in a file folder, even though that tweet or update may be the only thing in that folder. It's a kind of asterisk that gives context. For example, you might see a tweet like this:

Tweeter 865753:  "Ugh! Today at work was just awful! I'd quit if I didn't need the paycheck. #atleastitsjustmydayjob

In these cases, the hashtag isn't really meant to create a link to someone else. It's meant to add meaning in a new, contemporary way. And people wanted to take this new way of communicating and translate it to other platforms.

It's like if you're in a canoe, and you want something that will give you buoyancy. So you bring a basketball. Which, I guess, is better than bringing a stack of bricks, Not much better, really, but a little.

As much as I can appreciate new and innovative methods of self-expression, hashtags come off as clumsy and pointless on Facebook. At least, they are in their present form. On Facebook, where there is no urgent need for brevity, writinganentirephraseasonelongword doesn't make a ton of sense. So why don't we do away with that? And why do we need the #? Can't we think of something a little more elegant? Like a kind of punctuation that we already use to set something off to the side, the way a hashtag is?

So, here's my proposal: on Facebook, instead of using #hashtags, why don't we do (parentheses)? Why can't we turn that tweet above into a Facebook update that looks like this:

Facebooker Stan: "Ugh! Today at work was just awful! I'd quit if I didn't need the paycheck. (At least it's just my day job.)"

And those tweets that are really just putting something into a file folder? Those can look something like this:

Facebooker Jan: "I tried to fit all of my books onto my new shelf, but the shelf collapsed under the weight! (back to the drawing board) (nerd girl problems)"

Doesn't that seem better? I mean, doesn't it?

I'm pretty sure it does.

I'm pretty sure that we should just do parentheses instead of hashtags, at least on Facebook. Because, as I said before:

Hashtags on Facebook: not okay.

Regards, best wishes, and practical formatting,

-Cecily Jane

101 Questions to Ask Before Marriage

 My Dear Reader,

So, this post is a little unusual. Let me tell you why.

I was just going about my business, pursuing Facebook, when I noticed a Muslim dating ad* on the side of the screen. And I clicked it. Not because I was interested in dating a Muslim, but I was interested in learning about other people and the way they see the world.

The ad lead me to a page that listed 101 questions to ask before marriage, and boy, was I intrigued. To be honest, I would have clicked that link whether it related to Islam or not, just because I'm interested in what people think is necessary information before marriage. But the Muslim factor made me at least three times as curious. What questions would they ask, and how different would that be from things that I would ask? How do Muslims see marriage in comparison to how I see it? So many things I want to know!

So I started reading through these questions, and I realized that I wasn't just reading the questions; I was also answering them internally. And they were deep and thought-provoking. Soul-revealing, even. So why not go ahead and share it with you? Why not let you experience this with me?

And here you have it: my answers for 101 questions to ask (a Muslim) before marriage. You're welcome.

Just to be clear: this is a thought experiment. Nothing else is implied. 


1: What is your concept of marriage?

I see marriage as two people who work together as a team in order to combat the challenges that face them in life, and to create and nurture new life.

2: Have you ever been married before?

Nope.

3: Are you currently married?

 Nope. (It occurs to me here that in a Muslim context, this would be important because plural marriage is acceptable in Islam. But I also think that this is probably something you should know before getting married, in any culture or context.)

4: What are you[r]** expectations from marriage?

 I expect to work very hard in order to create a lasting and edifying union. I expect to sacrifice in order to benefit my husband. I expect to put my husband above all other relationships, except for my relationship with God. I expect the same in return, on all counts.

5: What are your goals in life long/short term?

 Short term: to become a published author, get married, have children, buy a house, and to benefit the lives of everyone around me.
 Long term: to be the kind of person who people turn to when they need hope, help, and love.

6: Name three things that you would like to accomplish in the near future.

 A. Make enough money to get out of debt and support the lifestyle that I want
 B. Publish a novel
 C. Find a place where I want to live long-term

7: Name three things that you would like to accomplish in the long term.

 A. Have a writing career
 B. Go, do, and be where/what/who God wants me to go, do, and be
 C. Enjoy a multitude of fulfilling and edifying personal relationships

8: What do you think is special about 'me' as a potential spouse?

You? Well, I don't know. Maybe you're tall?

As for me, I'm faithful, honest, loyal, hilarious, loving, intelligent, creative, and not too hard to look at. Most importantly, I am constantly striving to better myself, and I never give up.

9: What role does religion play in your life right now?

My religion is, and always has been, the most important thing in my life. I am inseparable from my faith.

10: Do you class yourself as a spiritual person?

Definitely.
 
11: What is your understanding of an Islamic Marriage?

I'm pretty sure that I don't understand it at all. I understand that a Mormon marriage is not only the most important decision I will ever make in my life, but it will open or shut the door to many, many other important decisions I will face. I understand that a Mormon marriage will fundamentally change my course in this life and the next, and that it is the only way for me to be the kind of person I truly want to be.

12: What are you expecting of your spouse, from a religious [perspective]?

I expect him to have the same religious commitment to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as I do.

13: How active are you within your local Muslim community?

I don't have a Muslim community, but I am very active in my Mormon community.

14: Do you volunteer for any Islamic activities?

No, but I volunteer for Mormon activities as often as I can.

15: What can you offer your spouse spiritually?

I am a true believer in Jesus Christ who continually tries to shape her life around His teachings in order to be as like Him as possible. That should count for something.

16: What do you see as the role of a husband?

I think a husband should be primarily responsible for providing an income, he should at all times be supportive of his wife and find ways to build her up, he should be a loving and caring father, and he should be willing to sacrifice everything in order to provide for his family's needs.

17: What are your views on polygamy?

I prefer not to think about it, honestly.

18: What do you see as the role of a wife?

I think a wife should be primarily responsible for managing the household, she should at all times be supportive of her husband and find ways to build him up, she should be a loving and caring mother, and she should be willing to sacrifice everything in order to provide for her family's needs.

19: What is your relationship with your family?

We get along most times.

20: What do you expect the relationship with your spouses family to be?

I hope to get along with them, too.

21: What do you expect your spouses relationship with your family to be?

Here's hoping that they don't turn and run away.

22: What are your current living arrangements?

I live with two awesome female roommates. 

23: What will be the living arrangements, after marriage?

I assume that it will just be me and my hypothetical husband.

24: If, for any reason, your spouse didn't get on with your family, how would this be handled?

Wow, that's a tough one. It would be really difficult to have a husband who doesn't get along with my family! I guess I would try to build a bridge between them, possibly pointing out similar interests and values. I'd do everything I can to help them at least appreciate each other.

25: Tell me a bit about your best friend(s)?

That's a little private for a blog, but I'll say that I have a lot of close friends who are kind, compassionate, friendly, trustworthy, and who get my sense of humor.

26: How did you get to know your best friend(s)?

I met them all through church; I got to know each of them by spending time with them and persevering through the rough patches.

27: What activities do you do with your best friend(s)?

Depends on the friend! Going out to eat with friends is one of my favorite things. We also watch movies, explore strange new worlds and new civilizations, and talk.

28: What do you like most about your best friend(s)?

I like that they are willing and eager to spend time with me. Quality time is big for me.

29: What will your relationship with your best friend(s) be after marriage?

I hope that it will be similar. I hope we can all become better friends as the years go by.

30: Do you have any/many friends of the opposite sex?

Yes.

31: What kind of friendships do you have with people of the opposite sex?

I live with two girls, I'm close to my two sisters, and I have lots of female friends. I need guys just to balance that out. My guy friends are interested in things that my girlfriends aren't, and they help me with things that my girlfriends aren't comfortable with. I'd be lost without them, really. It would throw my whole world out of balance.

32: What will be the level of your relationship with people of the opposite sex after marriage?

That's probably what will change the most. I expect to bring my husband along on almost anything I do with my male friends in order to maintain an appropriate relationship.

33: What type of relationship do you want your spouse to have with your friends?

My hypothetical husband doesn't need to be best buddies with all of my friends, but it would be preferable if they could all get along.

34: What things do you do in your free time?

Write, spend time with friends, watch TV, read, play video games, go for walks, and try new and exciting things.

35: Do you like to have guests visit your home?

On occasion.

36: What are you expecting from your spouse if/when your friends come to the house?

I expect him to be pleasant.

37: What is your opinion of speaking other languages at home that everyone may not understand?

It's rude to speak a language that someone else doesn't know if it's at all possible to speak a language that everyone knows. That said, I really want to teach any future children a second language.

38: Do you like to travel?

Yes. I haven't done much, but yes.

37: How do you spend your vacations?

I like to visit new places and experience new things in a leisurely way. I find that the best vacations strike a balance between being bored and being stressed.

38: How do you think your spouse should spend vacations?

With me?

39: Do you like to read?

YES.

40: What do you like to read?

Anything mildly interesting. I mostly read fiction, but I'm also into English linguistics and history. I'll try any genre at least three times.

41: Do you think that you are able express romantic feelings verbally?

Yes.

42: Do you express affection in public?

It depends on what is appropriate for the situation.

43: How would you express your admiration for someone?

Probably vocally or by trying to imitate them.

44: How do you express your thanks to someone who has done a favor for you?

Probably vocally or with baked goods.

45: If you wrong someone, how do you apologize?

Immediately and profusely.

46: If someone has wronged you, how do you expect them to apologize?

By being honest and sincere. Offering a solution would be nice.

47: How much time passes before you can forgive someone?

Depends. Honestly, forgiving is hard for me. It's easier if I know it won't happen again.

48: How do you make important decisions in your life?

By examining every option and bringing my conclusion to the Lord. It usually takes me a very long time to come up with an important decision.

49: Do you use foul language?

Nope.

50: Do any of your friends/family use foul language?

 Some of them. My closest friends don't.

51: How do you express anger?

When I was a kid, I used to yell a lot. Now, I mostly write very angry letters or confide in a friend until I calm down.

52: How do you expect your spouse to express anger?

 With maturity and civility.

53: What do you do when you are angry?

I try to keep it inside until I'm removed from the situation so I can process it in a healthy way.

54: When would you think it was appropriate to initiate mediation within marriage?

I assume here that mediation means some form of counseling, in which case it becomes appropriate when the couple becomes incapable to resolving issues on their own.

55: If there is a dispute in your marriage how should it be resolved?

By a calm and respectful discussion.

56: What is your definition of emotional or physical abuse.

It becomes abuse when attacks continue, even though the other party is unable to fight back.

57: What would you do if you felt that you had been abused?

I would try to get out of that situation as quickly and cleanly as possible.

58: Who would you call for guidance if you needed to?

Anyone who is trustworthy and knowledgeable on the subject.

59: Do you suffer from any chronic medical condition?

Depression. Nothing else that's serious.

60: Are you willing to take a [pre-marital] health check?

Yes.

61: What is your understanding of proper health and nutrition?

I believe in abstaining from tobacco, coffee, tea, and alcohol. In addition, I think it's important to eat reasonable portions of a variety of foods as well as exercising regularly.

62: How do you support your own good health and nutrition?

By doing (or not doing) what is listed above,

63: What is you[r] definition of wealth?

Having more than you need.

64: How do you spend your money?

I mostly spend any extra money on books, music, and eating out. I occasionally save up for big items. I try to be sensible with everything else.

65: How do you save your money?

By managing my spending and putting extra money in a savings account.

66: How do you think that your use of money will change after marriage?

I expect that I will have to make spending decisions with my hypothetical husband.

67: Do you have any debts right now?

Yes, but I hope to get rid of them soon.

69: What is your opinion of taking loans, like a mortgage, to buy a new home?

When you buy a home, you should get only what you can afford once you have a stable income and a reasonable savings. Loans can help you accomplish that if used properly.

70: What are you expecting from your spouse financially?

I expect him to have a stable career in a field he enjoys.

71: What do you see as your financial responsibility within marriage?

I'm willing to work as much as needed to make ends meet, but eventually I would prefer to be a homemaker.

72: What is your opinion of a working wife?

I think it's fine if there are no children or of it's necessary to pay the bills.

73: How do you think a dual-income family should manage their finances?

I think they should still co-mingle their funds like a single-income family. Otherwise you're not spouses, you're roommates.

74: Do you currently use a budget to manage your finances?

Not a budget that is written down, but I stay aware of how much I have in the bank so I can adjust my spending. I always stay within my means unless there is some kind of emergency.

75: Are their people to whom you are financially responsible?

Other than the banks that have my loans? No.

76: What is your opinion of baby-sitters or house staff?

It's the primary responsibility of the parents to provide day-to-day care for their children. Baby-sitters are great for the weekend so the couple can have some alone time. I've never had "house staff" and never intend to, except maybe hiring someone to mow the lawn.

77: Do you want to have children?

Yes.

78: Do you have any children already?

Nope.

79: What is the best method(s) of raising children?

Love, patience, faith, and fair discipline when needed.

80: What is the best method(s) of disciplining children?

Teaching them why what they did was wrong and then assigning them to do something that will reinforce the lesson. Violence of any kind will not be tolerated in my household, ever.

81: How were you raised, as a child?

I was expected to help clean the house, to help take care of my younger siblings, to do well in school, and to be active in church.

82: How were you disciplined, as a child?

Mostly by spanking and grounding.

83: What is you[r] opinion on disciplining children?

Any discipline must be done out of necessity, not out of anger. The purpose of discipline is to teach a child how to behave properly, and violence only teaches children to be violent.

84: What is you[r] opinion on public school for your children?

If you have to send your kids to public school, send them to the best one you can find. Move if necessary.

85: What is you[r] opinion on Islamic school for your children?

I'm not opposed.

86: What type of relationship should your children have with other non-Muslim children?

My hypothetical children should treat everyone with respect regardless of their faith. I hope they have close friends of all faiths, as long as their friends have good values.

87: Would you send your children to visit their extended family if they lived in another state or country?

Yes, if I thought they were mature enough to travel on their own.

88: What type of relationship do you want your children to have with all their grandparents?

I want them to have a tender, loving, and respectful relationship with both sets of grandparents.

89: How many languages can you speak?

One and a half. One of these days I'll master Spanish.

90: If you could choose the career of your ideal marriage partner, what would it be?

I don't have an ideal career, but I would prefer a husband who had a job that had regular, reasonable hours and nice benefits.

91: Do you think it is important to finish your education, before getting married?

Nope.

92: What is your education level?

I earned a bachelor's degree in English from Brigham Young University.

93: In terms of distance, if you could choose where your ideal marriage came from, would it be?

Somewhere along the west coast would be great, since it would be easier to visit each other's families.

94: Do you think it's important to marry someone with the same nationality as yourself?

It certainly makes some things easier.

95: How many people do you think you will be inviting to your wedding?

I have a big family, so a big wedding is pretty much the only option.

96: What style of wedding are you planning to have; an Islamic wedding, a Western wedding or a [m]ixture of [b]oth?

I plan on having a Mormon wedding with a Western-ish reception.

97: What style of wedding clothes/dress are you planning to wear during your wedding celebrations?

A traditional, white, classic wedding dress.

98: What do you think is the best way for a Muslim to meet their ideal marriage partner?

I really have no opinion on the subject.

99: What does Ramadan mean to you?

It actually seems really interesting. I respect the dedication and sacrifice it requires.

100: Who is assisting you in your search for an ideal marriage partner?

God, hopefully.

101: What is your number one criteria when looking for an ideal marriage partner?

They HAVE to be willing to marry someone with life-long, clinical depression. Otherwise, I'm happy to die alone.


Regards, best wishes, and see, I can still surprise you,

-Cecily Jane

*Facebook apparently is convinced that I am interested in dating Muslim men. Not really sure how that happened.

** I didn't change any words, but I did correct some typos along the way.

Kerri Strug and Bringing Home the Gold

My Dear Reader,

When I was somewhere around five years old, my Madre enrolled me in a tumbling class. I don't remember much, just that it was a lot of fun, and it didn't last very long. While I was very physically active throughout my childhood, I was never especially coordinated, so I doubt that there was much of a future for me in the gymnastics world.

Oh, well.

Still, once every four years, I imagine an alternate universe in which my life took a very different path. I picture a world in which I wasn't a klutz, I had talent, and I had the support and resources available in order to bring my kindergarten tumbling to an Olympic level. Really, this is only one of the many alternate universes that my imagination visits from time to time, but perhaps this one is a place that seems familiar to you. Maybe we all dream of Olympic gold, through one path or another.

And while I never cared to do more than occasionally dream about being a world-class gymnast, I haven't stopped admiring those who had the talent, put in the work, and realized their dream. I find it so absolutely inspiring. I think that a lot of us have grown up with that inspiration. Who, for example, could forget Atlanta in 1996, when Kerri Strug landed that magnificent vault on only one leg?




I was still in grade school when I first saw that happen, but man, that still gives me chills. Kerri Strug had trained all of her life for something that would be over in a matter of seconds. Gymnasts, as you know, have only a small window of time when they will be physically capable of doing the super-human tasks they perform, and Kerri had to be at the very end of her career. Just one last vault, and that would be the end of everything she worked for.

And she nailed it.

But, as you can see, it didn't come without a cost. She began her last vault already injured, and she had to know that the impact of running, vaulting, and landing would give her excruciating pain. But she went for it. And while she did end up collapsing in agony, she managed to stick it out long enough to fulfill her dreams. How can you not admire that?

And I think about that, and I look at my life and the challenges I face. While my life seems daunting, it seems bland and uneventful next to an Olympic career. Sure, things are really hard. Sure, some days I'm not sure how I'm going to make it to the next. But I don't have the whole world watching. And I don't have that kind of pressure on me. I don't have to spend my whole life preparing for one short moment that might never happen.

Or do I?

Because while nothing I've ever done would merit the attention of the world, a lot of the pivotal moments in my life have happened in the same time it took Kerri to complete that vault. Sometimes, that's all the time it took for me to say the wrong thing, or give up, or to stand up for something I believe in, or to actually commit. Sometimes it took me the space of that vault to realize something so crucial that it caused a paradigm shift deep within me. And these moments, some of failure and some of triumph, ended up the way they did because of a thousand little actions I'd made over the course of my life. Sometimes these pivotal moments have come at me so fast that the difference between winning and losing is the character that I've developed over the years. It's who I really am and what I really believe and what I'm actually willing to do when it counts. It's the courage and faith that I have mounted against my fears and insecurities, and it's not until one short moment that I find out which part of me in going to win out.

And I'd like to say that when I find myself in one of those crucial moments, I act the way Kerri Strug did, giving it everything I have, committing every ounce of energy and every drop of experience in the hope that it will be enough. I'd like to be the person who can run at life's challenges head on and give it everything I've got until victory has been achieved. And I'd like to be the person who does it knowing that when it's all over, I might end up on my knees. Giving all I've got might mean that I have nothing left, but even if I have to crawl off of the mat, I go as a victor. That's the kind of person I'd like to be.

And that's something I can have in common with the Cecily who lives in that alternate universe, who is already retired and has a gold medal (okay, several gold medals) hanging on the wall. Maybe if I have that same kind of determination, if I spend a lifetime preparing to become a certain kind of person who has a specific set of qualities, and if I can pull out a victory in those crucial moments, I can have that same kind of glory that Olympic Gymnast Cecily has. The medal might be out of reach, but that Olympic character isn't.

I can defeat that fear. I can achieve that victory.

I can land that vault.

But what I can't do is waste my time. I can't stop bettering myself. I can't stop preparing myself to be the kind of person that can achieve victory. I just can't do that.

Because otherwise, how can I bring home the gold?

Regards, best wishes, and victory,

-Cecily Jane

God, Young Cecily, and the Art of Listening

My Dear Reader,

I often wonder how amusing my relationship with God is to my friends who don't believe in Him. It must be strange to hear me talk about God the way I talk about other people who also happen to exist. But I've known since I was very young that God is real, and that when I talk to Him, He listens. And sometimes, He answers.

And I think that something that proves God's existence above all else is how little He does what I expect Him to do.

For example, I'm pretty sure that if my sixteen-year-old self could see me now, she would ask me three questions:

1. Did you get into BYU?
2. Did you go on a mission to Australia?
3. Are you married?

And it kind of hurts to realize that at the age of twenty-six, I've only taken care of one of my three biggest life goals. I doubt that showing her a copy of my diploma would soothe her great disappointment in me.

I probably spend too much time thinking about the conversation we would have on the subject. I'm not sure how I would help her understand why I chose to serve missionaries food instead of becoming one myself, and why I didn't find a suitable Mormon mate while attending a university that had around fifteen thousand to choose from. And the more that I think about it, the more I know I would have to tell her that it's just not what God wanted me to do.

And I'd have to tell her all about the thousands of conversations that God and I have had in the past ten years, and how most of them didn't go the way I wanted them to.

Because if I'm honest, I'd have to say that most of the time I don't really want to know what God has to say as much as I just want God to pat me on the back and tell me that I'm pretty smart.

And when I do get answers, they are usually not the kind I want to hear. God, I have learned, does not bother with people-pleasing or patronizing. He just tells you the truth, even when it hurts.

I could tell my sixteen-year-old self about the way I pleaded with the Lord to let me serve Him by giving up everything and becoming a full-time missionary. I could express to her how I had such a great desire that even though I didn't get an answer right away, I started preparing for it. But eventually, I'd have to tell her that even though I took a missionary prep class, even though I had three returned missionaries as roommates, and even though I was working at the Missionary Training Center, and even after asking every night for over a year, I still didn't have an answer.

At that point in my life, I was so spiritually exhausted that I stopped caring, not about going on a mission, but about being right. Instead of telling God that I was going on a mission and asking for His stamp of approval, I actually started asking Him what He wanted me to do, and I actually started listening. I opened myself up to receive whatever it was God had to tell me.

And I got a clear and concise answer: NO.

So I didn't go. So I spent the next six months helping the missionary effort the best way I could, by keeping my job at the MTC and feeding the people who were doing what I couldn't. But then I would have to make my sixteen-year-old self understand that after a few months of full-time dishwashing, I stopped wondering why I wasn't good enough, and started to accept that there was a different way for me to go than the way I'd always planned. Then I had to convince my parents, which presented its own challenges.

Sometimes, no matter what choices you've made, it's a struggle just to not feel like a failure.

And then, when my sixteen-year-old self is satisfied with that, and asks me why I'm single, and why I stay in an environment where the eligible bachelors apparently find me repulsive, I think that answer would be a little harder to give. All I can really tell her is that whenever I tell God I'm fed up with it and all I want to do is leave, He is very clear that I'm supposed to stay put. And I really don't have any idea why, really. I try not to see this whole thing as a punishment for something that sixteen-year-old did. I try not to see my life as a giant waiting room. I try to remind myself that when I was standing at the mouth of Hell, God was the one who pulled me out. I try to remind myself that God has earned my trust a thousand times over, and that trust requires patience.

Because He usually doesn't answer my prayers right away. Not specifically. Mostly, as I pray, I feel the calm reassurance that I am loved. But when I ask Him what to do, or where to go, or if it's okay for me to just give up, it usually takes a while for me to get a straight answer from Him. Sometimes, it literally takes years. And sometimes it takes years because I've forgotten to listen, and I've forgotten that the shortest path to truth is accepting the possibility that I could be wrong.

I wonder how many times I'll have to re-learn that.

And as much as that young me would be disappointed in the person I now am, I would like to hope that I could move past that and tell her that everything in her life is going to work out. I wish I could tell her that the years she has in front of her are going to be hard, and that even though she is already well-acquainted with darkness and pain, things are about to get a whole lot worse. But then, I'd tell her, things are going to work out. Because I know that she will find a strength in herself that she never knew she had. She will fall into the bottom of a pit and manage to climb her way out again. She will find a spark of hope inside a windstorm of despair and manage to keep it burning. And she will do it using the power she will find in prayer. She will do it because she will become desperate enough to listen to God and trust Him. And together, both she and God will get through the next ten years. And she will be much, much better for the sorrow and pain. She will be better than she ever thought she could be.

And really, I would explain to her, that's worth a lot more than a name tag or a wedding ring. Those things can always come later, but her next ten years need to be focused on something else.

But I would tell her that above all, she needs to keep asking and listening. She needs to keep striving for something better and purer. She just needs to keep moving forward, and she'll come out ahead.

And then, after I've imagined this whole fictional conversation with the person I was in the past, I try to picture a conversation with the people I will be in the future. What would my thirty-six-, forty-six-, and fifty-six-year-old selves say? Would they say the same thing? Would they tell me to keep asking, listening, and fighting? Would they tell me that everything's going to be okay? Would they have found a better way to overcome the challenges I face? Are they any better at getting direction and finding purpose? Because as far as I've come, I've got a long, long way to go. There is such a distance between the person I am and the person I want to be that I honestly scares me. Sometimes I'm a little more than certain that I'm never going to make it.

But then, I know a sixteen-year-old who never thought she'd make it, and look how she turned out.

And look at all the things she's learned, and all the skills she's developed, and all of the strength she's gained. Look at the power she gets from the sure knowledge that God is real and on her side.

Maybe the future isn't so bleak after all.

So, you know, we'll see.

Regards, best wishes, and the will to ask, listen, and fight,

-Cecily Jane

How to Poison Yourself: A Guide

My Dear Reader,

I know that I always say this, but sorry about the lack of recent posts. I've been trying to get back to my previous reliability, but I'm not there yet. Mostly because I really have not been up for writing lately.

And I haven't been up for writing because I've felt really, really awful.

I mean, I've just felt absolutely lousy. I've had horrible headaches and nausea with varying degrees of intensity, but mostly I've been drained all of my energy to the point where I wanted to do nothing but watch the entire series of Wings from start to finish.

Which I did.

And the funny thing was that for the majority of this period, I knew that I wasn't sick. I would occasionally feel fine, and then later the same day, go back to feeling like my brain was trying to escape through my ears. And really, when you already feel drained, and then you have to lead a normal life as if you weren't, you don't have the energy to try to figure out what's wrong. You just go to the internet and say, "Entertain me, for I am too tired to think."

Which, of course, means that I wasn't paying much attention to my health as much as I was just trying to get through another day.

I'm sure you're familiar with the idiom of putting something on the back burner. My life, especially now, seems like a stove with thousands of burners, each simmering one concoction or another. This stove contains everything I'm trying to work on, creatively, spiritually, financially, professionally, personally, psychologically, and so on. I'm trying to turn into an insurance agent, but I'm also trying to pay my bills, learn to play the ukulele, make new friends, train for a 5K, grow and sell flowers, edit a novel, write three other novels, keep in touch with my friends, do my laundry, read, deepen my commitment to my faith, eat, and about a million other things. All of them are contained in a pot on that metaphorical stove I've got. Unfortunately, all of these things require my attention, and it's hard to stir more than two pots at once. So some of them get neglected for a while.

But I'm not always the best at choosing which pot to stir when. The "watching Wings" pot, for example, has obviously gotten more than its fair share of attention lately, while my laundry pot hardly ever actually manages to get stirred.

And while in real life, pots on a stove are separate and contained, many of my metaphorical pots are connected. I want to pay my bills, so I've been growing marigolds on my windowsill* with the hope of selling them to make some extra cash. But growing things really needs a burner of its own, right? Because I have to figure out the how, what, when, and where of it. And I have to make sure that they stay alive.

I'm telling you; it's hard enough to keep myself alive these days.

And sometimes, these pots on all these burners have connections that you don't even realize until it almost destroys you.

For example, I had several ideas as to why my head and my stomach were staging a revolt, most of them involving a brain tumor. But it wasn't until last week that I had enough spare brain matter to realize that:

1. My symptoms were the worst during the early morning and late at night

2. These are the times when I'm usually in my room, or specifically, in bed

3. I happened to be growing dozens of marigolds on a windowsill right by my bed

4. Marigolds are a common allergen

Therefore:

5. I'm probably allergic to marigolds.

And:

6. If I wasn't aware that I had a marigold allergy, and the marigolds were developing slowly enough that it was hard to notice the gradual deterioration of my sanity, it could create a very uncomfortable situation.

I can tell you, it's weird when you realize that you have been accidentally poisoning yourself. I'm still not sure what to make of it. But I am sure that:

1. My health should probably be on one of the from burners

2. Those marigolds need to go on a different burner altogether. One that is not so close to my respiratory system.

Once that is taken care of, I'm hoping I'll have some energy to stir my other pots. Like the one for my blog posts.

Darn marigolds!

Regards, best wishes, and a breath of fresh air,

-Cecily Jane

*If you're curious, I'm pretty much doing the thing I wrote about here. Except this time, it's working, because I remember to water them.I know, right?

Oh, the Irony: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Self-Righteousness

My Dear Reader,

I think the more time I spend in this world, the more I'm starting to understand that beyond the physical needs, like food, water, shelter, and oxygen; human beings have certain psychological needs. There's the need for community, companionship, etc., but I find that one of the needs that drives some of our most outrageous behavior is the human need for goodness. That is, we all have an overwhelming desire to feel like a good person.

Mostly, I think it's a very beneficial thing to the human race. We are constantly striving to be good; to be better. And we have standards that define what good and better are. Morals! We have morals!

Awesome, right?

The problem starts when the desire to be good conflicts with the thousands of other desires that we have. Despite our efforts to be good, we often find ourselves doing what is bad.

But, (un)luckily for us, we have a built-in loop hole. If the human psyche does not have what it needs to feel like a good person, it instead desires to feel like a good person in comparison to others. I think it's the way our brains justify the fact that we can never truly live up to our own standards. If we can't be perfect, we can at least be better than Suzie or Paul. So it's okay that we do X, because Suzie does Y, which is definitely worse. And Paul? Well, Paul does Z, which makes our X look like nothing, really. So we're fine.

The pursuit of righteousness is modified into the pursuit of self-righteousness. Problem solved.

This kind of behavior is self-defeating enough when we're comparing our sins to the sins of others, but when we start doing this with virtues, it just gets weird.

Like when somebody decides, for whatever reason, to leave ethical standards behind. Sometimes it's one specific standard, and sometimes it's all of them. And I mean, just deciding not to have standards is one thing, but most people seem incapable of doing just that. They don't abandon standards as much as they reject them. They decide that something in the system of ethics is unethical. And then, they not only reject their standards, they replace them with new ones. And the most bizarre part of it all is that the new standards generally have absolutely nothing to do with the old ones.

Confused? Allow me to clarify:

Let's say there's a person out there who's a little different than us. Maybe they're different physically. Or maybe they have a differences in opinions. Or maybe they're famous (somehow, that's all you need). And say that person decides that their different-ness means that they don't have to abide by all of those pesky standards that the majority of the common folk hold dear. They aren't the same, therefore they don't have to follow the same rules, and thus, they conclude, it is actually righteous for them to consider themselves an exception.

No, not an exception. Exceptional. Better.

And how are they better? Well, didn't you know? They found an ethical behavior that the rest of us missed. And they follow that ethical behavior so much better than the rest of us that it makes us look like barbarians.

And the truth is that usually it's not that we've missed that ethical behavior; we just don't care about it. It's such a low priority that it's just a blip on the average morality radar.

It's like saying that it doesn't really matter that Suzie pays her taxes and you don't; you're still better than she is because you always use your turn signal. Or that even though Paul is kind, you're better because you're a good speller. Where is the logic in that? The very fact that we need to justify ourselves proves that what we're doing is wrong, no matter what Suzie or Paul do.

I mean, there's probably a serial killer out there who pats himself on the back because he never forgets his reusable shopping bags. And maybe that self-righteousness he feels guides him in choosing his victims!

And while that's an extreme example, I think we all do a smaller version of this on a semi-regular basis.

And the true irony in it is that our desire for goodness has somehow made us completely forget what goodness is. Somehow, we've turned into people who care more about putting poor Suzie and Paul down than we care about living up to our own idea of morality.

You'd think we'd be smarter than that.

Regards, best wishes, and just leave Suzie and Paul alone, they've been through enough already, they forgot their reusable bags and that killer is on the loose,

-Cecily Jane

Procrastination: Why Planning Ahead Is Just Not as Fun

My Dear Reader,

So, I'm kind of the greatest procrastinator of all time.

Don't believe me?

You would understand this simple truth if you saw me in college, or especially high school, where I learned most of my skills. Amateur procrastinators do their homework the night before or on their morning bus ride. I, the professional, routinely got my physics homework done in homeroom, then got my math problems done in physics, then got my English essays written in math. It was a very efficient way of going about it, in my opinion, because when you've got a part-time job, you're in marching band and academic decathlon, you have to go to church activities, and there was important TV to watch, there just weren't enough hours in the day to do things ahead of time. I mean, Smallville was still decentish* back then. Who has time to learn things when Tom Welling is going to be on your TV screen? WHO?

And even though I was pretty much a procrastinator from the first finger painting assignment in kindergarten, you might be surprised to learn that at the beginning of high school, I had been determined to change. You know, fresh start and all that. My plan was to get to class on time, get things done early, and get a perfect 4.0 GPA for four whole years so that I could get into my dream college and live happily ever after. No big deal.

My biggest challenge at the time was in Spanish 1, where we had the monster of all assignments. At the end of the year, we were supposed to turn in a notebook filled with copies of every single grammar lesson in our textbook, plus each vocabulary list copied five times.

It seemed like an impossible task until I had one genius idea: I had biology before Spanish, and the two classes were close enough that I could get to Spanish with five or so minutes to spare. Why not use that time every day to get a tiny bit of my project done? Five minutes a day meant 25 minutes a week, which meant over and hour and a half every month. My plan was so successful that I actually ended up finishing my notebook assignment months ahead of time.

So that was a victory, right? I should have learned that planning ahead and making schedules was the only way to go. But then, something happened.

At this time in my life, Madre used to insist on cleaning my room for me. Maybe she just wanted to be extra sure that I wasn't doing drugs**. Maybe she had given up all hope that the room would get clean by any other method, and she was trying to save me from the tragic fate of drowning in my own dirty clothes. It's hard to tell. All I know is that I'm in the other room trying to contemplate the complexities of, uh, Tom Welling and the other annoying people that all too frequently stopped him from being onscreen when I hear my Madre say:

"Cecily, I found this notebook for your Spanish class. Do you need it?"

And I said:

"Yes! It's a project worth twenty percent of my grade, and I spent hours and hours working on it, and I'll probably take it to college to use as a reference."

And Madre said:

"Okay."

And by "okay," she meant, "I'm going to throw this away into a deep, dark corner of the Earth where you will never be able to find it."

It took me a few days to realize the great crime that had occurred, since I didn't think to look for it until it was almost due. By then, it was gone, and when Madre was confronted with the evil deed that had been done, she explained that when she'd asked me if I needed the notebook, I had yelled back some incoherent mumblings about buying twenty reference books in college.

I was slightly upset.

I had spent, once you added it all up, a great portion of my free time completing this assignment. And what was I supposed to do? Go to class the next day and tell my teacher that my Madre cleaned my homework? I argued, begged, and pleaded with her to at least write a note explaining that it was all her fault and that she had forever ruined any chance I had at happiness.

She wrote me a note, alright. I got a peek at it before I turned it in. It went something like this:

"Mr. Martinez,

"Please understand that my daughter, Cecily, keeps her room so messy that she is unable to find anything, and I fear that she will one day die of suffocation. As a result, she did not bring whatever assignment you gave her."

Thanks, Madre. Thanks.

I ended up getting a B in Spanish, despite all of the hard work I did. And then I kind of decided that it wasn't really worth it to plan ahead. Ever. The more you plan, the greater the chance you have that something will go terribly, terribly wrong.

I mean, I did plan big things. Like, I had a specific university I wanted to get into, and there were certain things I had to do in order to be a good candidate. But day-to-day things? There were just too many ways it could all get messed up. And when I got into that dream school and the stakes got higher, I found that there's a kind of thrill that you only get when you have a ten-page research paper due in less than twelve hours, and all you have is half of a topic. 


And I discovered that being a procrastinator made me flexible, and being flexible opened me up to a lot of fun, random, and unique experiences that I would have never had otherwise. Like the time I got kidnapped. Or the time I failed a study skills class. Or the time a teacher actually believed that I came to class drunk (when I wasn't). Or the time I bought over-sized, sheer granny panties as a graduation gift.

So many stories!

And besides that, there were a lot of friendships that my flexibility helped forge, because if you lived in my apartment complex and you wanted a buddy for a 3 AM Wal-Mart run, well, I was your girl. If it was four in the afternoon and you were bored out of your mind, I would usually arrive at your doorstep. And if you ever needed a plate of cookies, I would make them magically appear.

I mean, I did have goals in college. I wanted to graduate. I wanted to overcome my crippling depression. I ended up doing both of those things. But I didn't have a fifty-point plan on how to do it. And it was better that way, for me.

I was really disappointed to find that the rules changed once I left school. When you get past your early twenties, people really expect you to act responsible, especially if you're a good Mormon girl who has never touched a drop of liquor. Especially if you have a full-time job. And especially, especially if you ever expect people to take you seriously.

Apparently, that's a thing.

But rules change, people make mistakes, and sometimes that final moment is when you get your biggest spark of creativity. The more stringent your plans, the more someone or something can come in and ruin everything. Maybe it will be your worst enemy, or the woman who gave birth to you. But things rarely end up the way you originally intended, right? So why get so hung up on the specifics? Why not have a general idea of where you want to end up, and try to find the most entertaining way to get there?

And sure, I'm not a Ph. D., or the CEO of Facebook, or an astronaut. Those paths are for other people, who don't have nearly as much free time to right crazy things like this post.

Good thing that blogging is free, right?

Regards, best wishes, and spontaneity,

-Cecily Jane

*And by decentish, I mean that the writing and acting wasn't awful enough to distract you from Tom Welling's perfect face and abs, er, personality. Yes. Of course, after a few seasons, it got so darn ridiculous that not even he could even things out. I know. It was a sad end to the only celebrity crush I really ever had.

**A hilarious thought, really. I spent the majority of my teenage years trying to get off of drugs. But that's another story.

Knights and Damsels

My Dear Reader,

I hate, hate, hate not being in control of my own situation. Not that I seem to have any power to avoid it, mind you. Being incredibly awkward and remarkably unlucky can do a lot to mess up one's plans of an ordered life. I, for example, would much prefer it if I could manage to make coherent conversation when I'm around people whom I want to impress. This, however, is rarely the case. I suppose I should be grateful for so many lessons in humility. Frankly, I can't count the amount of times I've walked away from one of those experiences with the strong desire to shoot myself in the face.

Really, I feel like for me, any endeavor to not look like an idiot is mostly pointless. I'm not sure why I keep trying.

And sometimes it's not even my fault. Sometimes, the world is just dead set against me having any dignity.

Take my car, for example. His name is Hugo, and he likes to break down in the middle of the night while I'm taking important guests to important destinations. He also likes to automatically lock himself when the keys are inside and I am not.

And when something like that happens, I really would prefer to just be swallowed up into the depths of the ocean than to ask for help. Because whether I could control it or not, being in trouble like that means that I have failed somehow. It makes me look stupid and incapable, and that's not how I want the world to see me.

It occurs to me that traditionally, that's not how it's supposed to be. As a woman, I'm supposed to play the part of the damsel in distress, awaiting a knight in shining armor who will swoop in and save the day.

And it's not that there aren't enough knights out there. I just make an awful damsel.

Being in distress, for instance, is not something I like discussing until long after it's passed. It's a lot more comfortable to hide behind a mask of indifference and make discreet inquiries until I can figure out how to solve my own problems. Then, once the moment has passed and the problem has been solved, I'll enjoy telling you about my harrowing journey.

But in the moment, when everything is falling apart and I'm at my wit's end, the last thing I want to do is make people aware of the trouble I'm in.

Partly, it's because I really hate bothering people. I have this instinctual idea that in general, most people are better off with as little contact with me as possible. Especially when I'm a wreck.

Partly, it's because of that look people give me, and the way it makes me feel. It's that look that a parent gives to an idiot child. And I'm neither an idiot nor a child. I'm just a dork.

And partly, it's because when someone helps you out of a jam, like sliding a slim jim through the crevices of your car door to get Hugo's darn locks unlocked, you automatically owe them something. And while I hate being in debt, I really hate debts when the method of repayment is not clear. Is it enough just to be friendly and use this to start a neighborly relationship? Or am I obligated to repay the kindness with a plate of cookies? And what kind of cookies are the most appropriate? Or should I bake a cake? Or a pie? Or maybe a whole meal? Or maybe, I will do all of these things and still never feel like I've done enough.

Really, the process of being rescued is often more disconcerting than being in distress in the first place.

I realize, though, that there are plenty of women who are experts at damsel-try. They can make knights appear out of thin air. If there's a guy they like, they can invent a catastrophe just to get attention. They can even pull it off so that the whole thing actually makes them seem desirable.

And really, why is helplessness so desirable? Why can't tardiness make a girl desirable? Because I've got that one in the bag. I also have an unlimited supply of useless-but-interesting trivia and I know when to use "who" and "whom."

It's a shame, really, that these skills aren't in higher demand.

I suppose that at this point, I should concede to the fact that people need to be needed, and that knights are no exception. I definitely get that. And I definitely do need people, despite my efforts to obtain total independence. Some days, I can be helpless on an almost hourly basis. And it's not that I don't appreciate being saved from catastrophe. I just don't want you to see me when I'm not at my best.

So, Dear Reader, if you happen to be the knight-in-shining-armor type, I would hope you would give a girl a chance and be open to the possibility that a girl can still need you, even if she's too much of a dork to show it properly. Even if it takes her hours and hours of fearing that asking for your help will cross some kind of line.

Even if she's afraid that she isn't good enough to be helped.

I would hope that you would be patient and kind enough to let a girl see you as a knight long, long before she feels secure enough to let you see her as a damsel. Because if you want to find a girl who will go out of her way to not manipulate you, you would be off to a pretty good start.

And when the inevitable day comes when I manage to make a complete fool of myself in front of you, I hope you will, at the very least, understand that I am very often a very competent and capable human being.

You will, won't you?

Regards, best wishes, and here's hoping that I didn't do it again,

-Cecily Jane

"Remove This Cup"

My Dear Reader,

In the course of twenty-six years of church attendance, I have encountered Eliza R. Snow's great hymn, "Behold the Great Redeemer Die" countless times. I know it almost by heart.

As you may know or might have guessed, the hymn tells the story of the Savior's atonement, death, and resurrection. Pretty heavy stuff. The words paint a picture of suffering and sacrifice that is both haunting and enlightening. But it is the beginning of the fourth verse, the last verse usually sung, that really sticks out to me. Mostly because it has an almost contradictory message to the previous verses. These are the words that pierce my heart:

"'Father, from me remove this cup/But if thou wilt, I'll drink it up.'"

This, of course, is a reference to Luke 22:42. It's the final thing Jesus says before beginning the process of atoning for the sins of all mankind, before He would sweat out His own blood. These are the words He spoke as He prepared to die so that the children of God might rise again.

But I wonder if there is more to these words than that. I wonder if these, like so many of the words of Jesus, are a pattern for how we are to live our lives.

Perhaps it is a motto for us to live by.

I do not believe that God expects us to court suffering. We are not to try to increase our suffering as a way to get closer to God. This is something that has often been misunderstood. God expects us to court holiness, love, and joy. These things are what we should be seeking after. Sorrow, pain, and grief will follow us on our journey, but they are not why we are on the road.

Perhaps this is the true lesson of the Atonement. Or, at least, a crucial part of it.

When Christ, the greatest of all of us, the only one of us who actually did everything right, and the Only Begotten of the Father said "remove this cup," He was teaching us that it is not cowardly or sinful to want as little pain as possible. But when God calls, we answer. When He asks, we do. We may ask questions. We may be confused. But of we are faithful, we will do what we are asked, no matter the cost. If we want holiness, love, and joy, we must be willing to pay the price.

Jesus did not want His stripes. He wasn't anxious to suffer. But when He was asked to drink that cup and suffer an eternity of pain and torment, He did it all without complaint. He did it because even though there were things that He wanted for Himself, He knew that helping us was more important. When He compared the benefit to the cost, He was willing to do what was necessary.

That is how we need to be.

We will not have to suffer the same magnitude of pain that Christ did, but we all have our bitter cups to drink. We all have weaknesses to overcome and burdens to bear. We all have to change. And we're mostly not going to like it.

But if we are true disciples of Jesus Christ, we realize that we want something more than to simply be spared.

If we are true followers of Christ, we realize that we are not here in this Earth to change God. We are here on this Earth so that God could change us. Change is not only uncomfortable; it often hurts. But change is necessary. If we trust God, we will accept that in all things, He knows better.

And when He asks us to give up what we love, and when He asks us to suffer, it is okay for us to get on our knees and tell Him the truth. It is okay for us to tell Him that it is hard, that it will hurt, and that we sincerely do not want to do it. It is even okay for us to asked to be spared.

But then, as Christ did, we are to then tell God that we will do it anyway. And then we must do it, whatever it is.

And I think that as we faithfully follow God, we will be able to find joy if we continue to look for it. If we remind ourselves that joy is our goal. Pain is only the cost, and it will eventually pass. The joy we seek will be with us forever.

And God and Jesus Christ will be there, too.

Regards, best wishes, and as little pain as possible,

-Cecily Jane

All I Needed to Know About Men I Learned from Jane Austen, Part 5: Mr. Darcy

"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly." 

-Pride and Prejudice, Ch. 18

My Dear Reader,

When you get to the end of Pride and Prejudice, you want nothing more than to find your own Mr. Darcy and live happily ever after. But when Elizabeth Bennett first met her Mr. Darcy, she wanted nothing more than to watch him take a long walk off a short pier.

Love can be a complex situation.

For example, you can meet a guy and completely misjudge him. To make it worse, he can simultaneously misjudge you. And as a consequence, each of you can paint a picture of the other that is absolute fiction. You have made the time-honored mistake of basing your entire opinion of a person off of one short meeting, without realizing that you're probably missing something crucial.

It kind of reminds me of a few times in my childhood when I would come across people who would set themselves apart from a group, and I'd always assume that they were snobs. Why else would they be looking down their noses at the rest of us? It took a very wise church youth leader to point out the possibility that those snobs could actually be acting that way out of shyness.

And that's something like what Darcy is going through. At the beginning of the book, he's helping his best friend settle into a new place with different, unfamiliar customs and attitudes. Not surprisingly, he likes home a lot better. I think it's because at home, Darcy knows who he is and what he needs to do. But in Meryton, he's a stranger in a strange land.

Add to that the fact that Darcy doesn't seem to be the kind of person who flourishes in big group settings. He prefers small, intimate events. But the first time he is immersed in this new community of people, it's at a crowded dance, where there will be a lot of people who will expect a great deal out of him. As a wealthy man from out of town, he knows he'll be in the spotlight and something of social target.

Lovely.

So, Darcy ends up on the defensive at that first dance, using pride to mask the insecurity he feels. And when his friend tries to throw him headfirst at some country girl, he is automatically and violently opposed. He even says some very unkind things. Unfortunately for him, Darcy is overheard, and country girl, Elizabeth, ends up basing her entire opinion of him on those words. From that moment forward, every move he makes is colored by this view that she has of him, which leads her to a lot of unfair conclusions. It takes the entire rest of the book for Elizabeth to realize that Darcy is not a really big jerk. He's just a guy that did one very jerky thing.

The genius in this dynamic is that neither party is free from blame. Darcy did say some pretty harsh things that he would later deeply regret, and while her sarcasm hides it well, Elizabeth is probably very deeply embarrassed. Humiliated, really. She exacts revenge by taking a little too much joy in Darcy's flaws. She even clings to them when she is presented with evidence of his good character. It's almost as if she prefers it if he's not good enough for her. But considering all of the flawed men that come Elizabeth's way, I think that's pretty understandable.

Because sometimes, I think we are just afraid. I think we're getting ready to take a chance, and we can only think about all of the other chances we've tried to take and how it has all gone horribly, horribly wrong. You remember what it was like go in confident and full of hope, and come out a failure. So, you see one thing you don't like, and you get scared that it's all going to happen again. I mean, you're not crazy. You know that doing the same thing over and over again will most likely produce the same, painful results.

And after all that, it's easy to start believing that failure is inevitable.

Elizabeth isn't going to get anywhere with that mindset, just as Darcy won't get anywhere with his. To move forward, they will both have to change. In a way, you can look at the romance of Elizabeth and Darcy as two journeys of repentance that happen to converge at the end.

But I think Jane Austen is trying to teach us something about what love is supposed to be.

Perhaps it is this journey Elizabeth goes on that distinguishes Darcy from Wickham, Collins, and Bingley. Perhaps Darcy and Elizabeth are good for each other because they challenge each other in the right way. As much as Elizabeth is hurt by Darcy, she is also intrigued by him. As much as she wants to hate him, she has this constant, nagging feeling that there is something she's missing. She's smart enough to see that the facts aren't lining up with her opinions, but she has to overcome her hatred of being wrong and her fear of being right before she can see things as they really are, and before she can see that Darcy is a complex individual.

And it's when she starts to unravel the complexity of Darcy that Elizabeth starts falling in love with him. It's when she has to stop seeing things from her perspective and look through his eyes that she really understands why he acts the way he does, and something changes in her. She doesn't stop being the intelligent, compassionate, fiery character that we love. If anything, her new understanding of human nature makes her more intelligent and compassionate, and her passion for Darcy intensifies her inner flame. She's even brave enough to know what she wants, and fight for it.

So, while Wickham would use her, Collins would diminish her, and Bingley would stagnate her, Darcy makes Elizabeth . . . Elizabether. Without compromising the integrity of who she is, he has motivated her to be a better person. After falling in love with Darcy, Elizabeth becomes the kind of person who would be pretty good at being in a lifelong romantic relationship.

And that's only fair, because she's doing the very same thing to him. She is drawing him far, far out of his comfort zone and forcing him to look at things and at people that he thought were far beneath his notice. She makes him swallow his pride and be very, very brave. She makes him brave enough to be, like Elizabeth, a fighter.

And maybe that's what love is supposed to be. Not two perfect people with a perfect relationship, but two imperfect people who are just trying to understand each other. Maybe love isn't just about the butterflies and picnics, but that there's some kind of purpose to it.

Maybe we don't need to just be looking for love. Maybe we need to be looking for love that makes us better than we are. Maybe we need to be looking for love that makes us smarter, kinder, and braver.

Jane Austen wrote Pride and Prejudice while she was about the age Elizabeth is in the novel, and I imagine that she was going through similar romantic trials and tribulations. I wonder how much of her personal journey is reflected in the life of Elizabeth. I wonder if she was inspired to write about Elizabeth's romantic struggles in order to warn us of the frustrations ahead and encourage us to avoid the dangers of settling for the wrong person. I wonder if she's telling us that if we can't find our Darcy, it's better not to find anyone at all.

Jane Austen never found the kind of love that Elizabeth did. She never married, even though she had the opportunity*. Perhaps she chose a life of solitude because she had bouquets full of Wickhams, Collinses, and Bingleys, and that just wasn't enough for her.  Maybe she's trying to tell us that that it shouldn't be enough for anyone.

And if that's what Jane Austen says, then really, it's good enough for me.

Regards, best wishes, and your very own Darcy,

-Cecily Jane

*Jane Austen once accepted a marriage proposal, then changed her mind the next day. My guess is that he was a Collins.

All I Needed to Know About Men I Learned from Jane Austen, Part 4: Mr. Bingley

"Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has done."

-Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 40

My Dear Reader,

When surrounded by Wickhams and Collinses, you would think that a Mr. Bingley would be a sight for sore eyes. And, for a short time, he is. Mr. Bingley is, after all, not a sleaze bag. He's even a pretty good guy. Sometimes, that's more than enough.

The problem with a Mr. Bingley, though, is that's he's all wrong for you. There is something about him. It doesn't make him a bad person; it just makes your personalities incompatible. Maybe you find him boring or irritating. Maybe you think he's too cheerful. Maybe he's in love with your sister/best friend. Maybe he's from Canada. For whatever reason, the two of you are destined to be no more than friends.

And sometimes, that can just break your heart.

Not because you have feelings for him, per se. Your heartbreak will stem from the fact that after wading through an ocean of jerks and idiots, you've finally found a good man, and you just can't make yourself fall in love with him. Oddly enough, this can lead you to even greater despair than you were in before. Before you met Mr. Bingley, you thought that good guys didn't exist. Now, you know that there are good men out there, but you're just as far away from finding a mate as you've always been. It's almost insulting.

And, of course, you can ignore all that and try really hard to make it work. You can tell yourself that finding someone compatible with your personality isn't really important. You can even tell yourself that if you can't make it work, there must be something really wrong with you. And maybe there is, because at some point, you will be sitting across the table from a Mr. Bingley, and something about him will make you want to drive your steak knife through his heart.

That doesn't bode well.

Sure, your Madre and Padre will probably miss all of this. Sure, they will chalk it up to sexual tension and start planning your wedding. And sure, you'll be thinking of other places where that steak knife could go. But I find that when it comes to aggressive, misguided parental matchmaking, you can choose to be offended or amused.

I always choose to be amused.

Of course, Mr. Bingley would be perfect for someone else. What annoys you might easily attract another. So, you're happy to set him up with your sisters/friends. You're even over the moon when it works out and they end up happily ever after. As long as he's marrying her instead of you, everyone can go about their business without getting stabbed in the chest.

And when your sister/friend runs into a rough patch with Mr. Bingley, you will happily let her cry on your shoulder and tell you all her troubles. You, after all, have a unique perspective. You hold no malice towards the guy, but you're not blinded to his faults. So, when your sister/friend tells you her side of the story, you can easily see who is actually to blame. If you're a good sister/friend, you'll take her side regardless, but your clear insight will help you give her the right advice. And you even hope that if their relationship doesn't work out, he'll find someone who will be better to him than you could ever be.

I usually try to befriend the Bingleys I meet. A girl can't have too many guy friends, in my opinion, and surrounding yourself with quality male companions has infinite benefits. Not only will they be able to come over and lift heavy objects at a moment's notice, but they will remind you that you deserve somebody who deserves you. If you surround yourself with Bingleys, you will know what you are worth. They will make sure of it.

And, if Jane Austen is to be trusted at all, there is a good chance that your Mr. Bingley and your Mr. Darcy play basketball together. So really, you're just getting closer.

But more on that next week.

Regards, best wishes, and plenty of sister/friends and brother/friends,

-Cecily Jane

All I Needed to Know About Men I Learned from Jane Austen, Part 3: Mr. Collins

"Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart." (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 19)

My Dear Reader,

Last week, we learned all about Mr. Wickham, the master of deception.

Mr. Collins, in contrast, always believes that he is telling the truth. In fact, Mr. Collins believes that everything he says is witty, well-spoken, and revealing of the true nature of the human condition.

The only problem is that Mr. Collins is so self-absorbed that in his mind, he is the best that humanity has to offer. He has constructed an entire reality in which he is a god.

Collinses are sometimes hard to spot, because they all define "best" a little differently. Some of them think they have an unsurpassable intelligence. Others think that they have a face and body that would make a grown woman weep. Some just think they're superior because they happen to be male. Others think they are great because they have suffered a great deal. The worst of all Collinses are the ones that believe that they are better than other people because they are the most righteous. Only a truly deluded individual could miss that oxymoron.

When coming in contact with a Mr. Collins, the best case scenario is that they do not like you. Since a Collins thinks of himself a god, being unattractive to him makes you (in his eyes) an unworthy and rather repulsive creature. Sure, it means that he sees you as garbage and will treat you accordingly, but that treatment is preferable to being liked by such a proud fool. At least, aside from a few uncharitable comments, he will largely leave you alone.

When they like you, Collinses are almost worse than Wickhams because they don't just want to play with you, they believe that they deserve you. To a Mr. Collins, you are simply the trophy that he gets for being the best. He may shower you with praise, but do not be fooled. In a very twisted way, this is only Collins praising himself. By raising you on a pedestal, he is making himself the man worthy of such a divine individual. He is merely feeding his own delusion.

It doesn't matter to him that you find his hubris repulsive. (Hopefully, you do!) Your choices are not a part of his consideration; he owns you now. You exist only to reward his excellence. It may be difficult to convince a Collins that you have the right to make your own decisions, and perhaps even harder to make him believe that you do not find him as attractive as he finds himself. For this reason, he is almost impossible to get rid of, because a Mr. Collins is nothing if not persistent.

This, of course, brings you quite the dilemma. How can you get him to leave you alone if he won't listen to you? You may be tempted to be harsh, and this is usually my approach. It is very tempting to shatter that fantasy of his. But Jane Austen went a different (and perhaps better) route. When Mr. Collins proposes to Elizabeth, and refuses to believe her rejection, Elizabeth does not cut him down to size. Instead, she makes herself less desirable without actually being self-deprecating.

When Elizabeth turns down his proposal, Mr. Collins believes that Elizabeth has rejected him as part of a mind game. Perhaps he sees these kind of women as sophisticated and desirable. Elizabeth, however, greatly prefers sarcasm to mind games. So, she tells him the absolute truth: she is not the kind of wife he wants. Elizabeth is not concerned enough about outward appearances to make for a good trophy. She does not care about impressing people with fancy skills or lavish clothes; she cares about her family.

Really, they would both be miserable.

Elizabeth says, in effect, "I'm not the person you think I am (and that's probably a good thing)," and Mr. Collins backs down. In Beauty and the Beast, Belle uses a similar, yet snarkier approach with Gaston (a Mr. Collins if there ever was one), with little success. I don't think that Collinses are particularly good at deciphering snark.

Any sarcasm would have been completely lost on Mr. Collins. But apparently, Mr. Collins also has a hard time with the truth, because he still refuses to believe her. So, as a last resort, Elizabeth turns to a higher authority who Mr. Collins respects: her father. It is only then that Elizabeth can be set free.

Everybody has a boss. If you can find Mr. Collins's boss and get him/her on your side, you have a nice little escape hatch.

Collinses are everywhere. I've met far more Collinses than I have Wickhams. They seem to be everywhere I turn. Luckily for me, when it comes to men, I am very skilled at the art of escaping.

Regards, best wishes, and a mate who actually respects you,

-Cecily Jane