Wow. I was just clotheslined with a iron wire of exhaustion…it took my energy right outta me. I feel like a lamo…it’s only 9 pm. Eeesh.

So I’m gonna do it, Dookie. I’m gonna write on love. And let’s just pray that I don’t screw this up, cuz I’m kinda tired and hopefully I won’t tick myself off in the process of trying to communicate my thoughts.

Insert corny proverb concerning love here

Okay. How do I really start this. Well, let’s get the obvious (or unobvious to some) out of the way. I am a romantic. One of my ex’s once compared me to the shrew out of Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew”. Okay, more specifically, he compared me to Kat off of “10 Things I Hate About You”…almost the same thing. I like roses and cards and serenades outside of my window as much as any other chick. But I’ve never been a real outward romantic. As a little girl, I didn’t really spend much time planning my wedding out. Heck…I NEVER spent time planning my wedding. The only time I ever thought about it was when I was in middle school and playing MASH (anyone else ever enjoy that little game? Anyone? okay…feelin like a loser…). Back to my point.
I never worried about…well, don’t worry about…finding “the one”. Maybe it’s just because I’ve never been close enough to marriage. If you asked me if I thought there was just one person out there for me, I would get a fairly confused look on my face (after making some sarcastic comment about myself) and vascillate back and forth between answers. But only because I think that God has a specific plan for my life and knows everything…so He knows who (if) I’m going to marry. So in that way, yes, there is one person for me to marry. But I don’t think that I am burdened with the oh-so-serious task of finding that one perfect guy and marrying him asap. I think love is a choice. I love this quote:

“Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to.”
-J. R. R. Tolkien (1892 – 1973), Letter to Michael Tolkien, March 1941

There are some people that are going to be more compatible with me than others. But whoever I choose is going to be the “right” one. I don’t want a marriage based on being “in love”, cuz that strikes me as an emotion. And everyone who knows me will tell you that my emotions can change in an instant. My marriage will be based on my careful decision making as to whether I will commit myself to this person no matter what happens to me and no matter what happens to him. Whether or not we can have children, or whether or not we have to live on opposite sides of the country at times. Whether or not we will have no money, and whether or not we have to travel to places I don’t want to go. For me, it’s not an issue of “will I be in love with this man forever”…it’s an issue of “will I commit myself to loving this man forever”. There’s a difference in my opinion. I can certainly commit to someone who will be harder for me to stick with, it’s my choice, but also…if you ask anyone who knows me…I don’t normally put up with situations I don’t like for an extended period of time. (aka…long enough to date, much less consider marriage).

This isn’t to say I don’t have dreams about some amazing guy singing to me from under my window and bringing me thousands of flowers and whisking me off to Africa. (Yay Africa!) But I’m not expecting that to happen. I’m not expecting something from a movie. I know myself too well. Anyone that chooses to marry me will have a long, hard, road ahead of them…and I don’t expect anything less for myself. When I get married, I’m committing for everything. Bet on it.

On a completely different topic…I finished “1984” today. Wow. Not only was I surprised by the book itself, but I was surprised that I understood the political concepts in it. We English majors usually founder in that kind of stuff. Okay, that was stereotypical and Mr Synthetic Silence would probably have a cow if he read that. Anyway. That would be absolutely terrifying. The entire book I wanted to scream at Winston to do something, but by the third section, I realized that if I was in his situation…there was nothing more I could have done than what he did. Although, I might have found a way to kill myself. And I’d like to tell myself that my Christian beliefs would have kept me hanging on in the Miniluv a lot longer than he did. Plus…I can’t really think of something I’m so terrified of that I would betray anyone and everyone to escape from. Like he was of rats. Maybe it’ll come to me. Maybe I’m just not old enough to be truly scared of things yet. We’ll see…

Hm. I wrote a lot tonight. Interesting. I guess that means I should wrap it up. Any further comments or questions, feel free to respond…