How I Cope: NOVELS

My roommate Kim (kimknowsbest.blogspot.com) and I were talking last night about the crazy things we do as finals week approaches. She has been going into an organizational and cleaning frenzy - the bathroom is SPOTless! And the rest of the apartment is in a constant state of fluctuation, but somehow it just FITS for finals week. Me, I've been DEVOURING novels and playing Legend of Zelda. Twilight Princess, for those interested...being third in line after Jared and Lindsay, and not having a tolerance for endless hours of gaming, I never actually finished it even though it came out 5 years ago. I hope to rectify THAT soon...before I play / watch Lindsay play the new Zelda game!!!

But more important is the novel part. I've been tearing through them! Evelina by Fanny Burney (I chose that because it was one of Jane Austen's favorite novels), Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell (why, oh why did she have to die before completing the final chapter!), Jo's Boy's by Louisa May Alcott (the only one of the Little Women books I never finished reading in childhood and now have...poor Dan!), Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, and now Anne of Windy Poplars (soon to be followed by Anne's House of Dreams, Anne of Ingleside, Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside, then Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter and A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett). All within the past two weeks (excepting, obviously, the ones I haven't read yet). Anybody sense a thematic link in all these books?

At first, all this reading was definitely a method of escapism. Now generally, I am not a fan of novels/video games as a means of escaping life. There's a difference, for me, between using fiction to escape and using fiction as a medium through which to broaden your mind/emotions/imagination and gain insight. The former, though enjoyable, is a little more hollow and deadened, like a collapsed drum (the stretched kind, not the metal kind). The latter is open and freeing. Believe it or not, in moderation, playing Zelda often acts as the latter for me...it inspires me to write and puts me in a relaxed and serene place. As Anne (of Green Gables, etc) would say, I find a great deal of "scope for the imagination" in it.

But anyway, somewhere between Jo's Boys and Anne of Green Gables I switched from escapism mode to interactive mode. Louisa May Alcott (with the exception of A Long Fatal Love Chase, lol) and L. M. Montgomery each have a beautiful way of depicting and inspiring imaginative characters, and tucking into their stories the homely little truths that may contradict over-romantic illusions, but they sit inside your soul ever so much more nicely.

And I remembered...I LOVE Anne! UNlike Little Women, I haven't reread the Anne books since childhood. Anne Shirley is super-imaginative, loves to write, gets carried off in flights of fancy, loves to talk, has extreme emotional highs and lows, goes off on wild tangents...sound like anyone we know?

(pssst....it's me! And I'm sure many of you as well :D)

So basically, reading Anne helped me validate my feelings about myself, and understand what dear friends of mine have told me: "we don't love you DESPITE your flaws, we love you BECAUSE of them!" It's so true!

That is all. :) Merry Christmas, all!
Lauren

BOO!

...aww. Too late.


Happy November :)

A poem

Put this together a couple months ago and wanted to share. :)

Untitled...like so many of my poems, haha! Let's call it No. 7. I think I'll share 1-6 too, but not all at once. Each is to be considered on its own. And now, no further delay...!

No. 7

The simple shape so often used to represent a heart
Can never really be enough for me.
Just a curve around the clock
Continued with a slant, a slide from right to left
That pivots, slants and curves again, to end where it began.
In cookies, cards, letters and art, ev'ry valentine,
In fresh leaves full and dead leaves fallen, in swans' necks or two tears,
Or even in my hands, held to meet at thumbs' and fingers' tips.
The heart is omnipresent, really.
I think it's sweet, the plain conjunction of these lines and curves.
But the heart that pumps my blood with valves and veins is tired.
Too tired to see the endless possibilities contained and permutated
In the shape where something sharp as "V" can, with steady arms,
Lift yet cradle, support and adore a small, soft and resting three.

My Wednesday Night

Last night was a bit of a rough night for me. =( It started in the evening with building restlessness and hyper-active-ness during the mid-week mingle, institute and choir - which is not to say that every time I'm over-energetic I'm having issues, of course! But I can feel a difference. In normal situations I'm having fun, mostly, just being silly. And then last night (and the other times I've had stuff like this happen) it was like I couldn't control myself, like the regulatory part of my brain is sitting in the back of my head going "whoa, whoa, slow down!" but can't do anything about it. In hindsight I call this "phase 1." I think I even mentioned that I couldn't breathe right, but then dismissed it as normal and unimportant. But I guess it was related!

So, not long after that, toward the end of choir, I became tired, tearful and overwhelmed. (Phase 2.) After the closing prayer I ran off to try to calm myself down. Then began "phase 3," where I'm dizzy, light-headed, fatigued, and can't move or talk normally. It's like I've just "checked out" or something, you know? Trying to walk was slow and halted. My words only came out after a delay, slow and stuttered. I just couldn't make myself respond to anything in normal time.

Thankfully, my friend Jaimie and Institute/choir director Bro Ritchie were there to help. :) it was very comforting to have a friend nearby, and to hear encouraging words from Bro Ritchie, telling me how much I've improved in the last year and a half and how I was doing a good job trying to talk through it instead of withdrawing to silence. It's easy to feel like having "an episode" at all is a massive failure on my part, but it's really all part of the healing process, isn't it? And though I could feel the potential for it, I didn't go beyond into "phase 4"! (for those of you have seen it, 4 is when it looks like I'm having a seizure or something, but I'm not really, it's just the worst part of the "attack.")

Jaimie drove me home and called Jay from church to give me a priesthood blessing, cause she didn't want to leave me alone in my funky state. My roommate Kim arrived home as well, and gradually I started feeling better, especially at about 5 min after the blessing. Then, time for a good night's sleep, at a decent hour! But not before Kim gave me the BEST advice EVER: spray myself with perfume EVERY DAY so I feel good ;) It's true, the little things count!

So, I always have this internal debate with myself, whether or not to share when things like this happen, with whom and how in-depth. Generally, I share with at least a few people, sometimes many more than I feel strictly "comfortable" exposing my inner life to. But I always feel like it's right. These are the small reasons:
   - Having the people around me understand helps me freak out less the next time something might happen.
   - A part of me does find it therapeutic to share instead of isolate.
   - In this case specifically, writing it out is a comfort.

But this is the big reason: whether to this extent, or less, or MORE, other people have these feelings and go through something like this. It may not go through the same phases I did last night, and you may not necessarily end up in that weird funky state, but the common thread, I find, is a desperate feeling of isolation, of being overwhelmed and inadequate. It doesn't have to get to a point of diagnosed anxiety to hurt and hinder you. The BIG reason I share my story as often as appropriately possible because I want you to know. <i>You are not alone.</i> And it gets better. Your Father in Heaven is always there, full of love and understanding and aid.

That's all :) I plan to have a lovely day today; I hope you do as well!

Lauren

I Wanna Talk Something Serious.

So, I'm going to talk about abortion. Well, more than that - I'm going to talk about how people talk about abortion, THEN I'm going to talk about abortion. You can stop now if you so choose.

My friend posted this on facebook: ("anti-choice" is used to mean "pro-life") http://mypage.direct.ca/w/writer/anti-tales.html

I have no doubt that it's completely true. I think there are many, many people who are doing all they can to strive for what is right, humane and fair, who are mistreated and demonized by people who are also doing what they can to strive for what is right, humane and fair. Yes, they are performing abortions and seeking to defend and/or expand its legality. Yes, their language is used to paint everything they do in a positive light, seeking rights for all, even if you believe that what they're doing is violent and wrong. It's easy for pro-lifers to categorize them as murderers, baby killers, and enemies to the institution of the family, blatantly sacrificing morals for convenience. Whether it's true or not, it's easy to put pro-choice people in that mental "box." But just hold on, and remember they're people.

On the other hand, you get things like this: (may be disturbing to sensitive readers) http://www.familywatchinternational.org/fwi/policy_brief_abortion.pdf

And this: http://www.familywatchinternational.org/fwi/documents/fwipolicybriefMaternal_Mortality_and_Abortion.pdf

Though individual stories aren't related as much in these articles, these also come from real people striving to do what is right, humane and fair, who are mistreated and demonized by people who are also doing what they can to strive for what is right, humane and fair. Yes, they picket outside abortion clinics and do all they can to annoy and frustrate, and are trying to interfere with a woman's individual choice. Yes, their language is overbearing, even rude, sensational and angry. It's easy for pro-choicers to characterize them as a herd of sheep blindly following their leader, aka their religion and/or ideology, ignoring evidence to the contrary. It's easy to perceive them as cruel to anyone who operates outside their belief system. Whether it's true or not, it's easy to see only the stereotype. But hold on for a second, and remember they're people, too.

Hopefully I haven't alienated the lot of you! I INTEND for these descriptions to have a controlled measure of harshness, because whether personally about individuals or in theory about groups, we think of each other in these ways, no matter which side of the fence we sit on. For the moment, I'm keeping my own opinion to myself because I'd like to emphasize the separation of people and ideas.

If an idea is WRONG, it does not make the believers of that idea BAD. If an idea is RIGHT, it does not make the believers of that idea GOOD.

I think all of us, somewhere inside, believe that the side that is right will be supported by the will of God or the creator or the universe, and that the side that is wrong will be lured into false thinking and negative behavior. This, I believe to be true. But it's not a solid division between ideologies. Pro-life supporters, it's entirely possible for you or your fellow pro-life supporters to harass, wrong, and even commit violence against pro-choice supporters. Pro-choice supporters, it's entirely possible for your fellow pro-choice supporters to do the same.

In MOST cases - not all, but MOST - whether or not an idea is actually right, the people acting on it believe it is right.

Now, that fact doesn't change what IS right and what IS true...which is why I firmly believe in speaking your mind in appropriate situations, doing all you can to support what's right and good in this world. But pretending that everyone on "the other side" is deluded or evil isn't a good argument against their ideology. Pick a topic, any hot topic, and see people debate about it, and dollars-to-donuts it will turn into heated characterizations of each other instead of discussion of the issue. Not always, of course, especially among you - I have amazing friends. :)But while disparaging the originator of an idea may hold emotional bearing on the validity of their claims, it has no actual bearing.

That being said. I don't think any of you would be surprised to know that I am against abortion. I'll admit that I have a vain motivation mixed in with whatever pure ones I have in writing this entry - I cannot STAND the thought of people I know and love believing me to be "deluded," "blindly following my religion/ideology despite all evidence to the contrary," or "cruel/unfeeling to anyone who operates outside my belief system." I work HARD to understand evidence and viewpoints that contradict my default beliefs, to not be a blind follower or an insensitive judge. I know I'm not entitled to special treatment or consideration more than anyone else is, we're all judged every day, etc etc. So it's really not that important. Anyway, I believe my loved ones know this of me, and it doesn't REALLY matter in the grand scheme of things if some people DO think of me in that way. But there you go, I had to admit it! I revolt against everything that puts me in the position of truly being either a blind follower or insensitive judge.

Back to the topic at hand.

I had an experience when I was about 13-14, when a Sunday School teacher of mine was sharing his views on abortion. He basically said he used to be pro-choice, he's a man and would let it be every woman's decision for herself, until he saw videos of legal abortion methods. He then proceeded to describe these methods in graphic detail, including how each fetus would squirm and try to keep away from the tools of abortion, and how evident his/her/its distress was. He continued, describing how you could watch and SEE life leaving each of those little not-quite-bodies. For that man, it was a testimony that unborn children are not just biological outgrowths...they're real, living things. People, in their smallest, most vulnerable form. I understand that that is what he was trying to communicate to us, though the message and the context was completely inappropriate and far outside the reach of his right and stewardship as a Sunday School Teacher.

But...I can't even begin to explain how upsetting his "tangent" was (and still is) to me. I'm a sensitive person by nature, ESPECIALLY where a subject so tender and innocent and precious as babies/children/fetuses and other life-before-birth is involved. I have to cry, sharing it all in writing now.

Even without these vivid, personal mental images I have that influenced my viewpoint, I would be pro-life, so to speak. I stand by my church:

"In today's society, abortion has become a common practice, defended by deceptive arguments. Latter-day prophets have denounced abortion, referring to the Lord's declaration, “Thou shalt not . . . kill, nor do anything like unto it” (D&C 59:6). Their counsel on the matter is clear: Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints must not submit to, perform, encourage, pay for, or arrange for an abortion. Church members who encourage an abortion in any way may be subject to Church discipline.

Church leaders have said that some exceptional circumstances may justify an abortion, such as when pregnancy is the result of incest or rape, when the life or health of the mother is judged by competent medical authority to be in serious jeopardy, or when the fetus is known by competent medical authority to have severe defects that will not allow the baby to survive beyond birth. But even these circumstances do not automatically justify an abortion. Those who face such circumstances should consider abortion only after consulting with their local Church leaders and receiving a confirmation through earnest prayer.

When a child is conceived out of wedlock, the best option is for the mother and father of the child to marry and work toward establishing an eternal family relationship. If a successful marriage is unlikely, they should place the child for adoption, preferably through LDS Family Services (see “Adoption”).

—See True to the Faith (2004), 4-5"

While I don't understand from experience what it's like to be pregnant or face the decisions that come with it, I do empathize with girls and women in that situation. I believe that, whatever choice the mother makes, God loves her. I believe that, legal or illegal, people (on both sides of the fence) will not only use abortion for the very specific circumstances in which it may be appropriate, but will also abuse it for personal gain and appearance where it is not necessary for any reason but to avoid the natural consequences of a sexually active lifestyle (within or without the bonds of marriage). When I am able to compartmentalize, to separate the word "abortion" from what it is and think of it only as an differing viewpoint, I can even understand and venture to feel okay about it. But so long as I'm properly associating the word "abortion" with all that it actually IS and means...outside of the situations the church described above, I can't. I can't. There's no way to convey...I can't.

A String of (Very) Loosely Interrelated Thoughts

So, this post was originally titled "HEAT WAVE - AWESOME DANCE!" and began as follows:

"That's right - the dance this past Friday was AWESOME!

(TANGENT: I kept thinking of calling it 'best dance ever,' but I so commonly abuse superlatives that I'm starting to feel a tad bothered when I get into exaggeration mode. Which is, to be fair, the mode I most often operate in in casual circumstances, but I really think I get so much more satisfaction out of using greater precision of language in my compliments and self-expression. For one, I love the nuances of meaning in language. For two, exact compliments from me are always more sincere. Especially if they sound odd and include random adjectives that may apply more intuitively than by literal definition. In this case, 'awesome dance' wasn't very exact...but when I want to be particularly precise I tend NOT to be concise, and titles demand brevity.)

TANGENT OVER."

Then I realized that the tangent was NOT over - or if it was, a new one had to follow, cuz rereading the last one reminded me of this mini-goal of mine. I'm trying to stop "dumbing down" mah language in casual conversation. I've mentioned this to some of y'all – a lot of us do this. Trying to avoid "smart-sounding" language in order to avoid seeming like a show-off. Doing the "you know...(trail off)" when you probably actually COULD finish the sentence effectively. Also searching for simpler words instead of the more correct one you have in mind. Some of my favorite people EVER are the ones who just use beautifully intelligent language naturally - and they never sound like show-offs, either! In that first tangent I had a great deal of fun using whatever words I WANTED to describe my train of thought. Note: blogs are public but the audience is undefined so the posts are more self-addressed, which provides an ideal environment for practicing this kind of "freedom of speech"...interesting.

But anyway, after all that, I'm going to continue to use only the word "AWESOME" to describe the dance. There was such good energy! So much fun interaction! I felt less inhibited than usual. Then again, when I'm dancing (without fear) is one of the times I feel the most free. The other times I feel the most free and the most truly myself are those rare occasions I can get up to a comfortable lope on a horse, outside somewhere, with sky and nature...and when I'm at the temple, deep in my scripture-ponder-pray cycle...when I'm singing and/or otherwise performing uplifting music and reach a moment of joy that extends beyond the song...and when I get the chance to sit and write outdoors. Especially somewhere with a body of water and trees. Beach w/ palm trees, park by a lake, forest near a stream, whatever.

Interestingly, each of these five things, done properly, require a certain willingness to "lose myself" a bit, or let go of control and take a leap into something difficult (re: impossible?) to define. Maybe that's another possible meaning of "he who loseth his life shall find it." I'd like to seek more of those moments in my life. Having just verbalized (is it verbal if it's written...? Kay, articulated) those five things and the feeling that connects them, I think I can endeavor to DO them more. Get more out of life than I do sitting on a computer! Which, while fun and occasionally useful, is getting to me, and I must be off.

Somehow, this post went all over the place. Hopefully it didn’t make you dizzy! This is what an average minute in my mind is like.

Luvs to all!
Lauren

P.S. Today is Day 1 of read the Book of Mormon through before the new year! 4 pages a day should do it. Let me know if you're following along! Maybe I'll make some kind of graph to chart my progress...

Too School for Cool

I think that's a silly phrase, though it aptly describes me - I'm more likely to care about school than being cool!

Speaking of which, classes began. I'm just in 6 hours atm (still in the recovery process), but that's working out very nicely thus far. Thus far = after having attended the first class for each of my two classes. THIS time I will STAY ON TOP of things! Which will be much easier with only 2 classes to manage, plus Institute. :)

I'm taking a math class and a science class...oh, woe for all the doomed efforts I've made since freshman year to get my generals out of the way first! Something always foils me.

But in the mean time, this is my last year of school. :) For my bachelor's, anyway. What a relief! I'm pondering moving home for this and next semester, though. Still coming up to Denton all the time, of course, for classes and to chill, but since I have plans to go to Hawaii next semester and finish my last courses online, I may as well change my living arrangements now and save on the expense.

Hawaii will be AWESOME. My sister-in-law invited me out there! The idea is to stay with her and my bro, ideally for 1-3 months, less if it comes down to it, and catch onto the "aloha" spirit of things. It will be super-good for me to live in a place where a.) natural beauty runs rampant and b.) the society around me isn't in constant go-go-go mode. Cuz I need some slow-slow-slow time.

Which reminds me of something I said earlier this year - in the beginning of summer, at Disney World with my fam. I LOVED being there, but most of the time I was more anxious to walk faster, see and do more than the ones I was with! I thought about how great it would be to find a loved one not only able and willing to keep up with me, but who also enjoys the pace and the things I want to do and see. Then I thought about the flip side - cuz on the other hand, I'd really like that someone to be able to slow down and smell the roses / enjoy the silence / chill with me. And the phrase came to my mind that what I'm looking for is someone who'll "go with me when I'm going, and slow with me when I'm slowing." ....yay rhymes! Which can apply to all sorts of metaphysical/spiritual/etc aspects of life. Isn't that nice? :D

Oh, also. Check this out. Randomly this summer, I went through my mama's bookcase and pulled out a book called "Using the Book of Mormon to Combat the Falsehoods of Organic Evolution". I started reading it and I quite like it. This I did, having forgotten entirely that I'm taking a Physical Anthropology class that's all to do with evolution, etc! First class period, though, the prof. (a distinctly non-religious man) made a particular point that ALL "ways of knowing" require faith in SOMETHING/SOMEONE. So, essentially, whether we're putting faith in research and theories, which can easily be skewed or leave out important parts or be interpreted incorrectly, or putting faith in a religion or scripture, which also can be easily misinterpreted etc, one way's not more valid than the other. With the add'l help of the spirit, which confirms truth, both can be validly used to identify what is true and what is not :D

Anyway, I'll write more later about my ideas about grad school. And I promise, that "In Response to Twilight" thing is in the works. It's really hard to maintain a sincere tone instead of a sarcastic one, but I will do it!

Love much,
Lauren

My Big Bag of Story Ideas

So, I have about five bajillion ideas for stories in my head, some of which are just fun and silly, some of which I take semi-seriously but are still rather silly and indulgent, and one of which my entire heart and soul is wrapped up in. Some are just concepts, some are scenes, some have plots planned out, etc. Most are based on other works, and/or folk tales / fairy tales, but the more original things are dearest to my heart. Here's a glimpse!

Fun and Silly

Char Enchanted - wouldn't it be fun to see the entirety of Ella Enchanted from Char's point of view?

Zelda / Disney tales / movies and games in general - often when I play or watch things, these beautiful descriptions rise up in my mind. I start making connections and expanding the back story and the emotional journeys of each character, and I just want to do something with it! These are the easiest for me to just pull up and write down because I have absolutely 0 pressure on myself to do anything with them.

Semi-Serious But Mostly Just Fun

Meditations on Cinderella - I introduced this before, it's my collection of interrelated snippets and scenes that all revolve around the idea of Cinderella. In particular, I have three more developed ideas:
- "Charming" (title and idea suggested by my good friend Dusty when I mentioned CE, above, to her) is very similar to the original Cinderella tale (well, the Charles Perrault version, which is hardly 'original' but it's the earliest incarnation of the story we're most familiar with). The twist: it's entirely from the Prince's point of view. It's actually a rather different story when you focus only on what he knows and sees!
- "Cinderella - Ploy" is a working title. Also from the Prince's POV, but this time the prince is a presumptuous jerk and his parents are tyrants. Cinderella isn't really a girl named Cinderella - that's just her code name. She represents a coalition of dissatisfied subjects on the brink of revolt, and her presence at the ball is all part of an elaborate plot to blackmail the prince into addressing their grievances. I have some short excerpts from this one that I'm willing to share, anyone interested in seeing them?
- Another idea that started as "Charming" but exploded into much more is this one where "Cinderella" was actually the daughter of a nobleman. When she was 5 or so, while out in the market with her stepmom & stepsister, she got lost. A wandering performance troupe found her and took her on. (They have a fire theme. Their stage names are all things like Flame, Ashe, Cohl, etc so the name they give her is Cinders.) Much happens between this time and the ball, but the ball isn't nearly the end...! There's much more to it than that, but I'll leave off here for now.

Gwyn's Knights - based on Snow White. Gwyneira, which literally translates to "snow white," is the young princess. As was true in early renditions of the tale, it's seven knights instead of seven dwarves. These knights each drank from the holy grail long ago and are thus immortal; their duty now is to protect the grail from anyone else misusing it. The evil queen is seeking immortality and power - as well as the grail, she's developing a potion/spell to aid her in this quest. Beauty is a main ingredient, so the queen uses her mirror and her mysterious, half-magical 'hunter' to locate fair maidens and bring them to the castle, where she extracts the beauty and life out of them through a fatal, magical process. When the queen attempted to test an early version of this process on 7 y o Gwyn, she failed and Gwyn ran away to the knights in the woods, where she grows up. The story proceeds from there!

Layla's Crimson Cloak - based on little red riding hood. Layla's parents tell her the cloak is magical and she must wear it at all times for protection. She spends a year with her grandmother, who is queen of a small kingdom. In that kingdom are some people who spontaneously turn into wolves, and these people are horribly mistreated. Layla works to help them obtain rights and protection through her grandmother the queen.

Alma's Sons - based on stories from the Book of Mormon. Alma the Younger's three sons, as well as Captain Moroni, were kids & teens at about the same time. This story would explore the various circumstances each faced and the personal choices each made that led to the very different people they became in later life.

Mormon's Book - Near the end of the Book of Mormon is Mormon's actual story, which is simply incredible. I'd want to follow him from youth to adulthood, the difficulties he faced as a young leader of a stubbornly iniquitous people while he worked to compile and abridge hundreds of years' worth of his forefathers' historical and religious records. It would go up until his death and the destruction of his people, and lead into a sequel dealing with his son Moroni, living alone and on the run, while he attempted to complete his father's abridgement.

Tindale - not sure exactly the detail of this one, but it's set in the time of William Tindale and his translating the Bible into English for the first time. I imagine the main character to be a young woman who faithfully attends the Catholic Church and listens to the scriptures and sermons in Latin, and how it changes her life to be able to read the Bible herself.

The Serious One

The working title for the last 10 years has been The Great Tsunami, but that no longer really fits. Where do I even begin?

Main character, a 12 y o boy named Jaff, is cousin to the royal family in a kingdom called Mavell. He gets picked on by the prince and other extended family members. :( But worse, Mavell is overthrown and he (along with the others) are carried off as slaves to the northern kingdom of Allaia. Jaff grows up there as a slave to an influential politician, who tells him that by law he can earn emancipation and citizenship if he swears an oath of loyalty to the Allaia and demonstrates good behavior for 5 years. As Jaff strives for this goal and adjusts to his new life, he begins having vivid dreams. He learns he is actually a Seer, and as an adult it is his duty to overcome his childhood fears and shy nature, search out his old bullying cousins in order to restore the royal family and the kingdom of Marvell, and warn the people of many nations against both physical and spiritual upcoming catastrophes.

And that's just the bare bones skeleton of it all!

It is this final story that all my passion and devotion is truly invested in. Look for it in stores...someday!

Oh and also, the text in the bg of my header is from this story. :)

Tata for now!
Lauren

Lord of the Regency?

You all know that I'm in an intense Regency / Jane Austen mood. But now, swelling in power and force, my great love for Lord of the Rings / Tolkien in general has returned! It's a good thing I found my History of Middle-Earth collection...and that Mama&Papa just got the extended LotR on blu-ray!!!

Also, my copy of The Two Towers is still missing, but turns out the whole trilogy is available as a free app on my phone.

Which reminds me! I have a new phone! 'Tis exciting. Oh yes, and Kim Rice is my new roommate! She's made of all sorts of awesomeness. I loved living with Lindsay, but Kim has been so fun. The Lord was definitely involved in that arrangement working out!

Anyway. Back to Regency. I'm making a dress in the style of Jane Austen times. I just finished the toile / mock-up, and it's a good thing I got all my impatience & corner-cutting out of my system before using the pretty fabric! Here's a pic (during which I'm blinking):

Well, I hope I just inserted a picture...I've never used the Blogger app before.

It's got lazy stitching (if stitching it can be called), a backwards sleeve, an incorrectly cut skirt panel and an inside-out neckline, but voilá! It doesn't fit correctly without the proper undergarments, but they're up next. Also, I'd like to see if I can modify the pattern to fit in a modern "summer dress" kind of way, if I mess with the skirt options and other areas' fit and such.

Anyway, that's all for "Lord of the Regency"! I may or may not write another post after this one. (actuallyIalreadywrotemorebeforerealizingitwasentirelytangentialtothesubjectofthispostsoI'mpostingotseparately...shhh!)

Night,

Laurenkin

In Other News

I love to sing. Like many other people, I'm sure, I often get all "my voice isn't that great"-feeling and, ridiculously, let those feelings prevent me from singing as freely as I would like, even to myself. What silliness!

Anyway, I've been wondering for a while what type of music suits me best - the style I like to sing and the music I most enjoy. I grew up on musicals, I love pop, rock, golden oldies, classical and Celtic music, and pretty much any choir music. Until recently, I considered myself a "floater" with no particular "home" in any genre. BUT ALL THAT HAS CHANGED! Jim & Judy Gwilliam's 50th Anniversary Bash + my Michael Bublé Pandora station + seeing Casey Abrams perform jazz live has brought me to the realization that classic jazz standards are where my heart (and vocal cords...?) truly lies! (lie!) Hoorah for that.

Also. I am in a mood lately. I'm going to call it my GO FOR IT mood. I'm just in the mood to GO FOR IT. That is all.

By the way, all - I am constantly having ideas for blog posts. I guess my default "think" setting is to frame my thoughts as if I'm going to write and present them, even tho I usually never do. So! I have come up with blog titles for my various thoughts, and you can choose my next blog:

In Response to Twilight: My Kind of Man
Proof I Am A Loser (but not the kind you think)
Pondering the Principle of Sacrifice vs. Living Up to Your Privileges
The Adventures of Lauren and Lindsay: American Idols Concert & our Overnight Trip to OKC!
Jaff, Son of Jezsik: the Boy Who's Lived in my Head for 10 Years
Reinvented Fairy Tales: my Big Bag of Story Concepts
Random Things I'd Like to Write Papers About

So there. Choose as you like. I may or may not be inspired differently, but I'm pretty sure I'll be happy to go with whatever you choose (since I've mentally composed/outlined each one already).

Farewell, all!
Lauren

In Defense of Dating.

I must now expound on my theory about dates, as briefly stated on facebook!

It is true, I do indeed believe that the best way to get over a ridiculous crush is to go on a date with that person. Nothing's better at shattering romantic illusions about a person than being confronted with the reality of spending time with that person in an extended, one-on-one situation. Not meant to be mean, just true!

So often in my experience, I've observed the surface qualities of a person and melded them with my mental image of what I'm looking for, and then pined over the guy (let's call him Guy A) for weeks or months. Rather depressing, doesn't uplift or enrich my life at all, and (least important facet of all) I'm sure the pining, desperate look isn't all that attractive. ;)

At some point I figured, well dennit, rather than having a long drawn out, self-destructive cycle, why don't I just ask Guy A on a date or ask him to take me on a date? (Gentlemen, you may replace "Guy A" with "Girl A.") Three crushes in a row, I went through the pine-pine-pine cycle, and all it took was the one date to cure my ailment.

This is NOT because I then developed negative feelings about Guy A. In fact, my respect and liking for each one of them increased post-date. But man, going on a date and thus being paired off for a short-term "mock" partnership is an ENTIRELY different experience from doing group things together and somewhat touching on what it's like to really spend time with a person. Most direct and easy way to find out, "oh, we don't really gel like I thought we might" or "wow, our interests are more different than I thought."

On the OTHER hand, there's nothing that can match the power of a one-on-one date to develop a strong platonic friendship between a guy and a girl, even if there's no romantic connection. I've seen girl friends of mine get asked on a date, then worry about "not wanting to encourage" a guy they didn't feel interested in - and come away having had a blast and gotten a good, loyal, close guy friend in the process. I'm sure the same is true on the flip side, with guys coming away with strong non-romantic friendships with girls after going on a date.

Furthermore, I have found that a date is not only a good way to discover you're not actually interested in someone you thought you were - or making better friends with someone you knew in a group-setting before - but going on a date can also serve to confirm by experience, rather than conjecture, that you're not interested in a guy.

Let's say you, as an unattached fe/male, suspect or find out "Guy (Girl) B," whom you're not interested in, is interested you. Guy (Girl) B then asks you on a date. So you go on the date, and the experience itself serves as confirmation of what you guessed before - you're not interested, you don't connect well. But now you know for sure and you've given Guy (Girl) B a fair chance. If they ask a second time, it's always okay to say no!

I repeat: if they retain interest, you can always say no to the second date. I know life's all more complicated than that etc, etc, but still, it breaks my heart to see awesome young men turned down without even getting a chance, not to mention awesome young women dismissed from the "realm of interest" and never ever getting asked on dates. Thar be many unsuspected "diamonds in the rough" in the dating world, and it's sad when even those diamonds lose sight of the fact that they have something precious to offer. :(

Of course, there's also the chance that going on a date with Guy (Girl) B ends up surprising you with a good time, connection, shared interest, etc that you had formerly ruled out as possible. In which case, hey look, the diamond in the rough ain't so rough anymore! :D

And all of this gives far more room for Guy (Girl) C to get their chance. Guy (Girl) C is the one that, in groups and from a distance you are interested in and really enjoy. Known or unbeknownst to you, Guy (Girl) C might have an interest or inclination toward you as well. I have a theory that if more Guy/Girl As and Bs are given their chance, more Guy/Girl Cs will take the chance as well. :)

Overall, though, my biggest wish is that young ladies wouldn't feel so pressured when asked on a date, worrying about "giving the wrong impression." Saying "yes" doesn't HAVE to mean "I am consciously interested in dating you." And if that is what it means, so much the better! :)

I tend to imagine that, if young ladies more often reserved their "no"s for more substantial reasons than vague disinclination, perhaps young men wouldn't be sticking their necks out QUITE so badly when they ask. And vice versa.

And please, I am not saying that a girl who has a "gut feeling" they shouldn't go on a date should ignore that feeling! Above all else, trust the spirit, of course. But though there are myriad valid reasons a girl (or guy) might want to say no to being asked on a date by a certain person or even going on dates at all, it is my conjecture that if we all stopped trying to balance the huge weight of FEAR OF FALSE IMPRESSIONS on the tops of our heads and just said yes, we'd get all sorts of positive experiences in return. Including, but not limited to, a potential romantic relationship. ^^

If anyone reading this comes away with the conclusion that what I'm really getting at is that I'd just like to be asked out, I dare say they've entirely missed the point.

Lauren

Magical, Wonderful Walt Disney World!

So, most of the major summer commitments are past (funny how a few weeks ago it felt like my whole summer was booked, but now that I've reached mid-June, it's really not). And slowly but surely, I'm unwinding, as I'd hoped!

You know what? Unwinding is HARD! That might be counter-intuitive but it's true. Unwinding truly began for me when Mom, Dad, Lindsay and I went to Disney World. I was afraid it would be a rush, rush, busy week - you know, the kind of vacation that's fun, but so jam-packed with fun that you barely have time to breathe. It turned out, though, that even with getting to see everything we wanted to see...the trip was so relaxing!

Not gonna lie, the first evening there my brain kept trying to think of things to worry about, and was almost unable to deal with having nothing come up. Normally I'm constantly aware of other things I "should" or could be doing, how much money I'm spending (or making my parents spend, in this case) on a meal, what to prepare for meals, all the things at home that need my attention.

At the resort though, especially that first night, the only things we should or could be doing were...whatever we wanted. We had a dining plan, so during dinner I couldn't be mentally calculating how much I was costing my family, because it was just "1 meal" and we had meals for the whole vacay pre-paid. I didn't have to say "no, no, I'm not buying myself anything" and then feel guilty if I did, because my dad very graciously planned ahead to cover some souvenirs for me, and even ENCOURAGED me to let myself look for something I wanted. And, thanks to a fantastic Relief Society President and Compassionate Service leader...the apartment at home was entirely, beautifully clean and organized.

So, what did I do, in the face of nothing to worry about for at least a week? What else could I do but cry! Especially that first night, every random little thing just set me off - seeing the hammocks on the beach of the lake, seeing the sunlight on the water, eating dinner and having nothing to stress about. I feel a little bit silly sharing that fact with the World Wide Web (aka a few of my personal friends who read this, lol!), but I think those bouts of tears were a release of years' worth of stress and pain. Nothing could have been better for me than that week at Disney World, with that chance to cry the way I needed to!

Well, I'm getting tired of being on the computer, so I'll just give the highlights of the week in chronological order. If you want to hear about anything in more detail, just ask!

1.) The Epcot World Showcase. I spent at least a full hour in the France Pavilion, another in the Morocco Pavilion, and had a lot of fun talking to the people there native to those countries. When I said "bonjour" to the gift shop boy "Geoffroy," this is what he said about my accent: "To my ear, it is French." And I talked to the gift shop boy "Yassine" in (very limited, mostly forgotten) Arabic, and he said I had a natural accent as well. I have decided once again that I need to travel the world...or at least the mediterranean.

2.) Magic Kingdom. Going to Tom Sawyer Island like we did as kids, climbing just like we did as kids, but in places we couldn't reach as kids and probably shouldn't have gotten to as adults...heckyes!

3.) Water Park. Lazy. River. 'Nough said.

4.) Sitting along the beach and writing.

5.) Animal Kingdom. We went on the little Safari thing, and we saw (and got pictues of!) elephants, giraffes, alligators, etc, and a lion - a lion that was actually standing on a rock height, not just lazing about! Incredibly majestic.

5.) one of the best things of my WHOLE WEEK - doing the "storybook princess" thing at Magic Kingdom by myself after the family had already gone back to the room, not knowing whether it was a ride or what, and then getting to talk to Aurora, Belle and Cinderella. We discussed literature, among other things. <3!

6.) Dinner at the Akershus Royal Banquet Hall on the Norway Pavilion on our last night there. We could see fireworks through the window and had wonderful, authentic Norwegian food - and I got alllll the princesses (it was Character Dining!) to sign the front flap of my writing journal. :)

So, whether on a planned vacation or at home, with loved ones or alone, I hope you get at least a few moments this summer where there's nowhere you need to be except where you are, and you can truly unwind.

Happy June!
Lauren

Oh Blessed Summer

I am in such a state of incredible joy and relief that the school year is OVER. This past semester, though it was only 9 hours, marks the FIRST semester of school in over a YEAR that I haven't had to withdraw from school (completely or partially) due to anxiety and related health issues!

YAY!

I have so much I want to do this summer. Chiefest among them is: RELAX. And not in a "withdraw-to-my-room-and-read-and-play-video-games-all-summer" kind of way. Though of course, reading and video games will feature in my relaxation schemes. :P But no, I want to get the chance to slow down and live! Video gaming, watching TV, and even reading are leisure activities, but they do keep my mind in a sort of "intensive distracted mode." It's fun, but not necessarily unwinding, and unwinding is exactly what I want for myself this summer. Especially to prepare myself for school in the fall again.

Despite my best efforts, a good chunk of my summer is already scheduled away with various commitments, but I'll do my darn'dest to preserve the slow, relaxed, let-the-body-and-mind-process-life-at-their-own-pace feeling!

For example. Last November I had another big Jane Austen fixation phase. I always love Austen, but sometimes the love comes in waves of increased intensity, often lasting 6 weeks or so. I think they consistently come every 6 months or so.

But anyway, in November, I had this whole concept of "The Jane Austen Project" - pretty much, just doing what I could to imitate the lifestyle of the country gentry in Regency period England. I wrote letters (and texts, and journal entries, etc) in the elevated language and style of the period, I watched Austen movies up the wazoo, I did my best to imitate Regency fashion in a more modern/casual manner, I put piano or harp music on in the background instead of rock or pop or Disney or musicals...it was awesome. :)

Point being, yesterday I had this desire to "take a turn about the neighborhood," as they would say. When I took Lindsay along last November, it was a bit sad how dead and city-like everything was...much concrete and construction. :( YESTERDAY, however, I had a goal to walk the most scenic, natural path I possibly could. And you know what? I was totally surprised!

Of course, the fact that it's spring helped make EVERYTHING prettier. Not only that, but I found that by angling through parking lots and patches of grass and choosing my next direction based on its apparent lushness, I actually brought myself to discover a few hidden locations of unspoiled natural beauty!

It was lovely. I dragged poor Lindsay all around, but she got to approach and pet a cat, so I think it was at least a little worth it to her. :)

And thus, my intended pattern for the summer is established! Less rush. Less seeking elsewhere for fulfillment, more exploring and enjoying what's already there.

I wish you all the loveliest of summers!

Love,
Lauren

P.S. Lindsay's 21st birthday is this Sunday, May 22nd, so shower her with LOVE!

More strange things I thought as a child

I don't remember how old I was exactly, but I know our family lived in "the Moreno Valley House" in SoCal and we moved from there when I was 6, so this is from before then.

I had this vague but persistent worry that everyone in my family was an alien in disguise.

(this was before Men In Black, mind you, so it wasn't from that!)

Seeing my mom wearing a greenish clarifying mask on her face one night almost seemed like proof, but still I was reluctant to classify it a "fact" in my mind. I was in some angst about this for quite a while.

Finally, one day when Mama was helping us three younger kids brush our teeth, I came to the conclusion that I didn't need to worry about it - cause even if Mom WAS an alien, she was an alien who loved me and that's what mattered!

I also thought I could catch up to my brother Jared's age. I was really thrilled one time when I miscalculated how old I would turn that year and thought I was going to be the same age as him. I think I was 4, 5 in November, and Jared was 6, 7 in January. I thought for one joyful moment that I would be six and we'd be the same age. It really was an exhilarating feeling, till I realized I was wrong.

Whenever we got our little baby Jesus doll out for the Christmas season, I loved to hold him in my arms. Secretly, I hoped that at his Second Coming he would come as a baby again so I could hold him like that.

I had ALL sorts of theories about time and time lines and how time worked (mostly created so I could reconcile time travel being real with the knowledge that it didn't work the way it did in movies and books I loved). This is the one I settled on when I was about 9.

Time moves in waves. If you plotted it on a diagram, it would look like this:

The tick marks indicate where people are living in time. The idea was that, in between these "waves" of time where people were living and doing, the world was just a setting with no people, like a giant abandoned stage.

If someone from one of these "waves" of living time traveled to an earlier time and then came back to their own time -

Their own time would not be affected by whatever changed in the past, because they're on a different "wave." As time passes, each wave moves forward. By the time the purplish-pink "wave" got to where the green one used to be, IT would be affected by those changed in the past, but only on THAT wave.

Meanwhile, if someone tried to travel back in time but accidentally hit one of the "blank spaces" between waves, there would be no people.

Just earth, the buildings and structures as they were at that time (according to the last wave that moved through it), wind and things, but no people.

And behold! This was my theory! Hope you enjoyed,

Lauren

If You're Curious About "Us" - No, Really!

Last time I used that title for my blog, it was about a piece of art called "us" and it sounded an awful lot like something it wasn't ;) But this time it's exactly what it sounds like, I swear!

Soooooo, for those of you who I don't talk to on a regular basis, here's a translation of the bits and pieces of info floating around on my facebook profile:


"had a great, great night! Thanks to Brian Fredrickson for being the best three-legged soccer partner ever."
March 21 at 9:58pm

Translation: "I'm all happy and excited! After an awesome 3-legged soccer family home evening activity, a fellow I've been interested (read: Brian Fredrickson) and I had made plans to go on a date to see Tangled this Friday!"


"hhhhhaaaaaaaapppppyyyyyyy"
March 24 at 1:28am

Translation: "I'm super happy from the awesome, somewhat impromptu dinner date and time Brian and I spent together tonight (Wednesday night)! There's definitely something happening!"


"La la la, la la la la, la la di da da dee dum dee! hmm hmm, hmm hmm, hmm heeee :)"
March 24 at 2:53pm

Translation: "Talking and texting with Brian is so much fun and makes me feel all giggly. We like each other, isn't that great?"


"Lauren McDonald is in a relationship with Brian Fredrickson."
March 25 at 10:05pm

Translation: "We got SO excited about enjoying each other so much that we made it an official relationship! Look how giddy we are!"


"All good things in time. ♥ Lord has a better understanding of our needs and wants than we do, doesn't he?"
17 hours ago

Translation: "Brian and I took the time to really talk. He thought it'd be better to be friends first and get to know each other without 'being in a relationship,' and I think that's a way better idea!"


"Lauren McDonald is no longer listed as 'in a relationship.'"
2 hours ago

Translation: "Behold, the idea is acted upon!"


So basically, we're becoming friends. :) That shift relieved a lot of internal pressure and subconscious stress! As for whether something develops later or not - we'll see when we get there. Que sera', sera'!

Much luvs to you all! :D
Lauren

Davido Farbela Followed Up!

In my first blog I talked about my interaction with this artist. Well, he finished the gift art he was making for me!


The Softness of Gorons by *davidofarbela on deviantART

You won't get it if you're not a Zelda fan, but this makes me VERY happy. It's a Goron. Essentially, one of a species of large, would-be fierce creatures made up of basically biological rock. They eat rocks and live in caves. Despite their awesome fighting capabilities, they're basically big, mellow sweethearts. Kind of like the Tongan people I've met. ;) But magical and made up, lol.

If you click the pic and then click the "Download" option (which doesn't mean it's saved to your computer, just that you can view it with much more detail), you can see the butterfly's reflection in his eye. :)

Anyway, just wanted to share! LATER I will have an update on what AWESOME discoveries I've made during IRISH HERITAGE MONTH :D

Lauren

Strange Things I Thought When I Was a Kid

Sometimes, kids just have very weird associations with things. I was thinking about that the other day and randomly felt the urge to share some of mine, so voila!

1.) Every time someone said "I'd like to bear my testimony," I thought they were saying "bury my testimony." For some reason I thought this meant that, if I "buried" my testimony enough times, I'd get to go home and the whole first floor would be filled with oversized grapes that we could play and "swim" in. I'm not sure why...I think "bury" made me think "buried in grapes"...?

2.) I thought that a Yule log was made of chocolate. I was super, super excited to see the big log in its paper wrapping, thinking how awesome it would be to get to take a bite out of it. At one point I sighed and said "when do we get to eat the Yule log?" and my mom was like "...what?"

3.) When I was a bit older and reading chapter books, I thought that sarcasm and italics were the same thing.

4.) When the soup instructions said "Stir occasionally," I asked my mom what "occasion" meant, and she told me that special occasions are like parties or celebrations. So I figured I had to dance while I stirred. Which I did, but I got exasperated with the whole process very fast and couldn't see how it would help with the soup.

I'd like to hear any of the wacky things you thought/said/did as a kid!

Meditations on Cinderella

Thought I'd put up the writing project I'm working on now. :) It's not exactly a cohesive story, nor a collection of short stories, but more like... scenes, short stories and impressions I've written, all revolving around and based on Cinderella. Some bits are highly related to one another, some are completely standalone, some are just the traditional story from a different point of view and some of them throw a wrench into the whole plot. Eventually I do have an idea I want to pull together into a novel from the prince's point of view called "Charming."

Anyway, here they are - hope you enjoy!

#1

I have a question. One I'm not quite sure how to ask.

Do girls want to be followed?

Wait. Let me ask that again.

When a girl runs - leaves, who knows why, after the boy had been thinking that for once, things were going right, for once, everything was falling into place...are you supposed to let her go?

Is it because she wants to go? Or because she wants you to chase after her? Or both? Does she even know what she wants? Do I even know what I want? I’m thinking too much. But I know I miss her.

At midnight, the minute hand joined the hour hand at the number twelve, high above us on the courtyard's grand clock tower.

She ran.

I followed her through the ballroom, not caring if we caused a scene, not caring about looking like a fool, not caring about anything, really, except that the girl I thought could be the one was running as if her heart were breaking, and I didn't know why. I only knew that, whatever it was, I wanted to mend it.

But she disappeared, and not even on the fastest horse of the royal stables could I find her. It’s as if she simply disappeared. Days have passed...weeks...it's been a month that I've been searching for her. Still, I haven't found her.

So, I guess my question is...does she want me to keep looking for her? To scour the kingdom, maiden by maiden, searching for the one - the only - whose heart fits with mine, whose foot will fit perfectly into the slipper she left behind?

Or is running her way of saying goodbye?

#2

            Club music beat in time with the flashing colors and lights on the dance floor. A guy and a girl danced somewhere in the middle of the floor. Him, white skin and gelled hair, wearing a tentative smile, but moving stiffly and keeping his arms as close to his sides as if they were duct-taped there. One of those go-getter college boys, going out on a rare break from long study nights. The girl, she had pretty eyes and black hair, smooth Latino features and a bright smile. They weren’t the most attractive couple out there, and definitely not the best dancers. But they were having a world of fun.

            “What’s your name?” The boy shouted over the blast of music, branching out enough to try  to spin her. He stepped on her foot.

            “Ow!” She grabbed her foot, wincing.

            “Sorry, sorry!” He stepped back for a minute, ‘til she smiled her forgiveness and joined him in dancing again.

            Name? she thought as she danced. Name, name, she knew that one. Nombre.

            “Juliana!” she shouted back, glad that at least she had a reasonable excuse not to have answered his question immediately.

            “Hooey-what-now?” It was obvious he could barely hear a thing, but he didn’t seem to mind. She hesitated, then pulled closer to shout in his ear. “Name! Juliana!”

            “Oh, Juliana!” He smiled widely, neutral-colored adult braces showing on his bottom teeth. “I’m Chris!”

            Juliana smiled and nodded. Entiendo, tonto. I understand.

            “Want to grab a coffee some time?” Chris practically yelled into her ear. Not sure what he said, she smiled again, and nodded vaguely. He beamed, dancing more exuberantly in response. He must have been happy.

            The song changed. She’d heard it on the radio before, but couldn’t quite keep a hold of names and titles in her mind. She was absorbing so much English every day, it was nice to just let la canción be what it was, and feel the music and the rhythm sink in through her ears, without knowing who sang it or why or what it said. But it was slow, flowing, and Chris promptly put his arms around her waist and started revolving on the spot.

            Juliana almost laughed. He didn’t quite understand what movimiento en baile really was. His feet shuffled, and his hands lacked confidence. If she kept her eyes open too long, he’d probably make her dizzy. So she closed her eyes and let the music lead her swaying within his arms. He didn’t quite have el ritmo – but that was fine. She didn’t understand all his words, either. But she could feel things in his movement and his touch. He was shy, but held her anyway. He was happy to be holding her. And he held her like a gift, something glass he might break if he handled her too roughly, instead of something he already owned, and she liked that.

            She wondered if he’d like to tomar un café with her some time.

#3

A fabric factory up the street let its dye run out into the city streets of New York City, blending into the water and staining it with gaudy colors. Despite myself, I wrinkled my nose at the green and purple flow, making certain not to step where it would stain my kidskin wingtips. I leaned against a building near the back entrance to the theater Elsie worked at, some small-time Vaudeville place. I checked my watch. Were they running over time again? How long could some show called The Girl In the Taxi be, anyway?

Indoor lighting spilled from the doors to the streets as actors and dancers, wearing coats and carrying carpet bags, streamed out of the studio and spread through the back alley of New York City like a river delta flowing to the ocean. I perked up, pulled my vest straight and tipped my bowler hat.

“Bascom!” A dancer fought her way toward me through the stream, smiling brightly. I met her halfway through the crowd and pulled her to the wall with me.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” I started, kissing first her cheek and then under her ear.

“Bascom!” Elsie cried. “We’re in public!” She pushed me away, probably looking over my shoulder, too, to make sure none of her colleagues were scandalized by the display.

            “All right, all right,” I said, pulling her hand up to kiss the diamond ring she wore. I’d been all over, consulting the best jewelers in town, before I bought it and proposed. It was a thing of beauty. We had agreed that she wouldn’t wear it tonight, meeting my parents – they needed to meet her, see her, learn to love her before they knew I’d done anything so rash as get engaged without their permission.

I looked at Elsie. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes darting, but bright. Her nervous smile melted into a warm one as the tail end of the stream of her fellow vaudevillians filtered away.  I smiled, worries fading to the back of my mind, and kissed her quick.

“Will the young lady be needing an escort to see her safely home?” I offered an arm. Elsie eyed my arm, eyebrows raised and lips drawn into a compressed smile.

 “Needing your help, sir?” She flicked my elbow. “As a matter of fact, no, I will not be needing anything of the sort. However – “ My eyebrow shot up, but she raised her finger, cutting off whatever half-baked comeback I might’ve wanted to say. “As it so happens, I would enjoy your company. If you’d like to come along, that is.” She strode forward, wearing a satisfied smile. I shook my head and jogged after her.

 “So, you ready for the big night?” I took her hand. My mother’s ball at the Astor Hotel would start at 9 o’clock. Elsie glanced up at the clock tower. It read somewhere near 6:15 p.m. She sighed.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” I assured her, rubbing her back as we walked. “Your gown has been fitted and we’ve gone over everything you need to know to fit in with those kinds of people. So long as you show up in the carriage I’m sending instead of catching a ride in one of those dang automobiles – ”

“Bascom!” Elsie gasped. “Watch your language!”

“Sorry,” I replied, sheepish.

“And anyway, don’t you know? I just love automobiles.” Elsie smiled slyly. “Don’t you think goggles and the smell of gasoline would go perfectly with my dress?”

I laughed half-heartedly, but it put me on edge. I’d practiced with her how to act, how to blend in with high society socialites and debutantes and all those prissy girls at least a little, but would she follow through? Or would she try to be clever, and bring her credibility crashing down with her? And there would go any chance of a happy blend between my parents’ world and my girl.

Elsie must have seen the way my eyes went unfocused, or perhaps the twitch in my jaw. She squeezed my hand, pulling me closer to the edge of the road as a taxi rolled by.

“Don’t worry so much.” She smiled. “I was only joking. You taught me well.”

That eased my tension, at least a little. “Promise you’ll take the carriage, then?”

“I promise.”

“And you have some girl friends who can help you into the dress tonight?”

“They’ll be over at seven.”

“And they know how to do your hair, those curling iron things?”

“Yes.”

“And you remember the dances, right? It’s different from the stuff you do at the theater, you’ve got to step light, like your shoes are made of glass, and let your partner lead you. We could always review if you don’t – ”

“Bascom.”

“I’m just saying – “

“Bascom!” Elsie stopped. “It’s okay, you can calm down now, all right?” She smiled. “I’ll have you right there with me, won’t I?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course. But I won’t be with you every second, you know, and I’ll have to dance with whatever girls my mother introduces me to or else their families would take it as some kind of slight, and as this will be your first ball in the area, supposedly, you’ll need to dance with other partners, too – and you know I love you, but sometimes you just say things – “

“I know when to keep quiet."

“But just one wrong move or word, and they’ll sniff you out at the drop of a hat.” She had to be perfect. She had to be charming, pleasing, comfortable under stress, and exude true inner class, or else marrying her would mean giving up my parents, my life, and everything I knew. “My parents, they have to like you first, and get used to you before they find out you’re a – “

“A what, Bascom?

Oh no. Wrong move on my part. She looked directly at me, her hands perched on her hips, her mouth taut. "What am I, exactly? Just a low-class dancer working for her money, who can’t afford to spend all day dripping in perfume and silk, is that it?”

I avoided her angry eyes. No one gave me angry eyes except my mother, and as refreshing as Elsie’s bluntness was to me, it was still disconcerting.

“Well, I mean – well, that’s not what I was saying…”

She caught my eye with a terrible glare and held it for a moment, then walked ahead alone.

“C’mon, Elsie! You know what I meant!” This wasn’t good. I couldn’t afford to upset her like this, not tonight. “I just – you know! I love you, but I don’t want to lose my parents if I can help it!”

Elsie slowed to a stop in front of her apartment building, still tense. I approached her, cautious, wanting to touch her shoulder, but I knew better than to try that now.

Finally, she relaxed.  “I know,” she said, heaving a sigh. “I know, I just…I know.” 

She was still angry, I could tell. I could practically read the things she still had to say in her eyes, and feel her anger in her posture. But she held herself back. In a way, that made me ache, but that kind of self-restraint was just what we needed, for tonight.

“Honey,” I said, pulling her close to me. She wrapped her arms around my waist under my baggy day coat, still reluctant, still angry, but accepting my peace offering, as it were. “You aren’t a problem,” I said into her ear, rocking her a little from side to side. “If anyone is, it’s them.”

Elsie took a breath, then two. I kissed her quick, before she could cry. She hated crying in front of anyone.

She smiled, though her eyes were still swollen. Then she grabbed my jacket and leaned back against the brick wall, dragging me with her as she pulled me in for another, much longer kiss. 

Apparently, at some point in the last thirty seconds I made the right move.

"Well, I guess this is my stop, hm?" Elsie asked a few minutes later, patting the brick building behind her with a soft, teasing smile.

"Guess so," I said, grinning like a fool. I looked down and scuffed my boot on the ground. "See you tonight?"

#4

 

She was troubled, that I could tell. The courtyard at night was beautiful, with the well-tended garden paths circling the great clock tower that rose into the sky. The poetic atmosphere was accentuated by the music winding its way out of the castle ballroom. The moon, the stars, even the clock tower and castle lights shone their reflections onto the surface of the lake below us. But Cinderella, though she rested her arm in mine, was silent in the wrong kind of way – the way that meant I should be able to read her mind somehow and make her feel better. Which of course, I couldn’t. I took a stab at it anyway.

“Are you all right?”

She looked up at me, then back down, pursing her lips in thought. “Sort of…”

“What’s on your mind?” I guided her along the garden pathways.

“Well, everything’s working perfectly, right? As far as we can tell…and it just makes me wonder.”

I blinked in confusion. Everything was working out, and this was a problem? “Mother and Father loved you,” I tried to reassure her, ruffled. “It’s not too far a shot beyond that to think they’d be happy to accept you in court, especially when you’re my wife – my princess.” I pulled up her gloved hand to kiss it, but no sooner did my lips touch the silk than she pulled her hand away.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “In court, to be a princess, and give up the life I’ve always had. What if I’m not sure I’m ready for that?”

“You’re ready,” I insisted. “You’re doing the court thing just fine, better than half the people in there.” I gestured in the general direction of the ballroom, where high arched windows glowed with the images of guests still dancing on the floor.

“No, no, you’re not listening,” she went on, refusing to be comforted. “It’s not that I don’t think I’m able, it’s just – well, I don’t think I can do this!”

This made no sense to me. I strained to hear beyond her words, to hear what it was that was bothering her so much, but I was coming up blank. She had started talking again.

“…just isn’t me. I don’t know if you ever thought about it this way, but it’s not like everyone’s dying to be a part of royal life. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t think I can walk on political eggshells for the rest of my life, being a quiet, pretty puppet just reacting to whatever’s going on around me. I’d lose myself, and that’s not what I want.” She stopped, waiting for a response.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was having a difficult time with it. What was wrong with being royal? Something stung about the way she said it. Was that all she thought my life as a prince was, ‘pretty puppetry’? That, even though we’d planned all this together, and she’d known what she was choosing, she didn’t want to be a part of my world?

Cinderella put her silk-clad hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes at me. “You like seeing me like this, don’t you?”

            I stopped in my tracks. I knew that my instinctive, honest answer was the last thing she wanted to hear. Of course. There is no right answer when she gets like this. But my eyes flicked down to her dress, her polished appearance, her eyes heightened with color, her lips curved in a frown that somehow looked more like an alluring pout than a scowl, her skin glowing with cleanliness.

I did. I liked seeing her like this.

 But that was the wrong answer.

The grand clock tower above us struck midnight, and began its deep, echoing chime. Bong.  Bong. Bong.

            I opened my mouth to speak, but Cinderella’s look stopped me. Bong. She glared at me, her face in the shadow of the tower, her hurt, her indignation growing more pronounced with each strike of the clock. Bong.  She turned away.

            “Cinderella – ”

            She cut me off. “It’s midnight. It’s late.” Bong.  “I’m going home.”

            “Just – “ I reached out, looking more like I was strangling something invisible than trying to actually stop her. This was  stupid! What was so wrong with liking how she looked? Why on earth was she being so dramatic? So, she looks better cleaned up and put in silk than she does in a manure-covered, boxy dress. So what? I still love her when she’s covered in dirt and hay and whatever else, that doesn’t make a difference! It’s just nice, when she looks nice, and isn’t bent over from always carrying hay bales heavier than she is, that’s all! What man doesn’t like to see that in his girl?

            Bong.

My frustration reached a boiling point, and I shouted the first thing that came to my head.

“But I didn’t even say anything!”

Bong.

            Cinderella looked back, just over her shoulder. “You didn’t have to.”

Bong.

            She left.

I just stood there for at least a full five minutes, trying to get myself under control enough to not yell so loud the entire court in the ballroom would hear me, even from out here. Finally I punched the clock tower. “Ow!” I gasped, cradling my hand.

            “You didn’t have to.” Her last words flung across my face like a slap. “You didn’t have to.”

            “You didn’t have to, either!” I shouted, not even sure what I meant by it. I stalked out toward the lake, feeling petty, and more hurt than I cared to admit even to myself. And that stupid, parting shot. “You didn’t have to”?

“Didn’t have to do what?” I grumbled angrily to myself. I kicked a rock, and watched it tumble down the carefully landscaped cliff edge to roll into the lake, sending ripples through the perfect picture it reflected. I could barely even think, those last, holier-than-thou words resounding in my ears. She was so sure that I meant something by it, that wanting to see her taken care of meant I didn’t think she could take care of herself, that wanting her in my life meant I held contempt for the life she had made for herself.

“Maybe I just love you, did you think about that?” I yelled again, scuffing my finest boots in the dirt and punching the air. Somehow, even just wanting to make her happy twisted around to become a crime. Woman! I could do nothing right with her! Why did I even love her, anyway?

I didn’t want to think about that. I’d remind myself all the reasons. Or…the thought struck me as a real possibility for the first time, I realized, with a touch of horror…would I find that, really, the reasons weren’t enough? That all this work, this whole plan, was just born of too many moments of romantic thinking and not enough plain common sense?

I didn’t want to think about that, either. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to get on my horse and ride, ride so fast my thoughts couldn’t keep up with me, and so long that I’d be too tired to think at all by the time I came back.

           

 #5

It’s early morning, and despite my exhaustion, I can’t fall back asleep. So I stand outside on my bedroom’s private balcony, leaning against the smooth alabaster banister. The sun is only just thinking of rising. Beyond the rolling lawn, the courtyards and gardens, the city sprawls out beneath my view, only half-visible in the filtered gray of pre-dawn light.

Last night I spent riding through the city streets, a herald before me to shout the purpose of our search. My head still aches from his shrill but piercing cry, repeated for hours on end as we scoured each neighborhood and marketplace yet again. “Make way, make way!” he shouted. “Prince Ferdinand rides in search of the maiden who fits the glass slipper!”

It’s probably the least efficient search method I’ve ever heard of. Ridiculous, to assume that only the one girl could fit into a certain shoe, and that that one girl – the one some called a foreign princess – would still even be in the kingdom. But it’s not quite as simple as that. The facts, the puzzle pieces, they refuse to fit together, and the discordance between them screams in my mind at something obvious, something huge, that escapes me.

I fiddle with the object in my hands. The slipper. Made of glass, scratched in places, but an amazing piece of craftsmanship nonetheless. I know every angle of it by heart, by sight and by touch. I’ve taken the shoe throughout the city, tried it on a hundred girls, but no luck, no divine intervention.

The sun barely gleams over the mountaintops, diffusing the blanket of darkness covering the land with a warmer glow. Automatically, I scan the streets, the various sections of the city, the villages beyond, giving myself a mental check for every area we’ve covered.

I sigh. Logistically, this search is just insane. For every dozen maidens whose foot couldn’t quite fit, at least twenty more were outside of my reach. Prince or not, barging in on every home in the kingdom would undermine so much of what my father has built in the realm of freedom for our subjects. If the prince could search every home without warning, rifle through every girl in the kingdom regardless of their wishes, based on what seems a whim? The people would never feel safe under my rule again. Though it could technically be legal, given our state of monarchy, the repercussions on my trustworthiness as future king would be irreparable.

And so, endless paperwork. For every home, I must obtain written consent from the head of the household to enter, written consent of the maiden to try to fit the slipper, written consent and acknowledgement that, should the slipper fit, I reserve the right to request the maiden’s hand in marriage and in all likelihood remove her from her household should she accept, all recorded and signed and logged away. It would be a nightmare even if every subject could read and write  enough to scrawl out their signature with ease. A month ago, I had no idea illiteracy ran so rampant in the kingdom…

And still, no sign of the lady I sought. No message, no hint that she had even thought of me again.

            I think back to the time – the short time, only hours – that we shared. Dancing, talking, about everything from philosophy to opinions on the knights in tournament to the stories she grew up hearing.

            She was so…fresh. Everything I could think to tell her about, she found fascinating. I found her fascinating. She asked the strangest questions. She looked right into my eyes, without shame or shyness.

            And far into the evening, in the moonlit courtyard, she looked so happy, so comfortable. What had changed? Is there something I missed?

            I remember the moment exactly. Cinderella watched me intently as I explained the social development theory I had been studying at the university. I didn’t even notice when I’d lost her attention, but her expression changed. Something, some feeling filtered into her eyes, just one grain at a time, like sand in an hourglass. She started glancing around. Her nose went pink and her nostrils flared.

            “Milady?” I glanced behind me, then turned back to her. “Milady, are you all right?”

            “I’m all right, I’m all right,” she said, catching the wetness under her eyes with her fingertips and waving her hand in front of her face, as if to shoo my inquiry away. “I just…I have to go.”

            “Go?”

            “Yes, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said, rising from the stone bench. “I’m glad I met you, Ferdinand.”

“Wait – ” I stood, reaching for her. She just shook her head and sniffed loudly, a few tears barely cresting her eyelashes, and ran.

“No! Wait!”

Then she was gone.

            I just can’t shake the nagging feeling that, whatever it was, whatever broke her heart and forced her away, she didn’t want it to be that way. She had wanted to stay. Wishful thinking on my part? Maybe…

           

           

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