There’s this part of me that wants to say that I want my life to be a Cinderella fairy tale…

But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t want to be the damsel in distress who has to wait for a prince to come and rescue me. I hate the thought of being helpless and so utterly dependent on another person like that.

I still want to be a princess, but it is mostly just because it is what I’ve always said I’ve wanted, and saying that I don’t want to be a princess anymore makes me feel like I’m turning my back on my childhood somehow. Don’t get me wrong, I would still love to be treated like a princess…but not in the Cinderella-manner. These women, these Disney princesses, that I adore so much, aren’t strong independent women. They are so hopelessly caught up in a romance, that they do almost nothing productive. Their lives are consumed by this unrealistic (although, in a movie, anything can be realistic) one-track dream that life will be perfect as soon as the prince professes his undying love for her. The prince is their reason for existence. They spend their time staring into a well and waiting (and singing) until their voice finally reaches the ears of the handsome prince and he comes riding in to make it a duet. I don’t want to waste all that precious time singing or waiting or wishing, hoping against hope that I’m singing loud enough for him to hear.

I’m not being cynical.

I’m really not.

I guess I’m just realizing that my “fairy tale” isn’t necessarily what I always thought I wanted it to be.

I still want a “happily ever after” ending. I just think that my vision of that has changed slightly. I can’t live my entire life with this unrealistic belief that if I only find love, then everything else will be just perfect. I’m starting to realize that the plans I have for myself, the plans that God has for me…my career, my calling are going to factor in to whatever my “ending” is. I was leaving all that stuff out when I thought about my “fairy tale” before. So, yes, my view of that is changing to this more “grown-up” version of a story. My story now has more than one plot line; it’s a little more complex. I think I’m ok with that.

A conversation with a friend brought to my attention the theory that people are attracted to things that begin with the first letter of their names. My name beginning with V, I suppose that I am more likely to choose things that begin with that very letter when I am making decisions.

This being the case:

When thinking about my future, I suppose that I will marry someone named Vinny, who just might be a vampire. We will be health nuts, therefore having an endless supply of vitamins…and vegetables. After moving to Venice from a quaint little village (where we own a Victorian-style house) and selling our van, we will buy a Volvo (in some sort of vibrant color of course). Once we are in Venice, I will decide to become a ventriloquist and have my puppet play the violin. Vinny and I (and our three children, Valerie, Veronica, and Victor) will live happily ever after…until villains vandalize our vineyard and we have to move again.

the end.

As I was sitting on the futon, watching an episode of Friends (yay for Friends), I realized how much time I had on my hands today. It was quite wonderful. I finished my homework right after I got done with classes and so by 6:00, I had absolutely nothing to do.

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 And since I had absolutely nothing to do, I made some time to just think. And so between episodes of absolute hilarity, I thought.

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Which brings me to the actual point of this blog. Yeah, it isn’t really about Friends (although someday I would like to devote an entire 3 page blog entry to that genius idea of a show and its humor that is applicable to everyday life.)

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I was thinking about being single. And how much I like it. It’s relaxing to not have to worry about whether your hair is frizzy or not… whether your breath is awful or not… You don’t have to take a half an hour to an hour out of your day for phone calls. You don’t have plan what to wear on dates. You don’t have to worry about a boyfriend being angry about you talking with other guy friends.

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I may tell myself this in order to keep from getting lonely…

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But the thing that is really great….the thing that I don’t have to convince myself of… is the fact that  I just have time. I have time to sit down and have a Friends marathon with my bag of Craisins. I have time to go to Starbucks with the girls on my floor. I have time to study. I have to time to read books just for fun. I have time to sit and talk to my friends about absolutely nothing at all and everything at the same time.

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And most importantly… I have time to spend with God. I have time to focus on my relationship with the Lover of my Soul.

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So when my roommate makes plans to go hang out with her boyfriend, and I get this twinge of loneliness…..I remember that my time will come. haha. Soon she’ll be jealous of me and my super-hot boyfriend. Just kidding. Anyway. Seriously. I’m happy for right now. I’m  content.

The windows rolled down in the Focus. The cool night air blowing in our faces. The radio turned all way up and we were all screaming the song at the top of our lungs. “every time I do it makes me laugh.”

Walking through the hall, trying to ignore him as he shouted…not sang…the song that had apparently been deemed as our theme song for the day. To him I would say, “I’ll be there for you”, and I would definitely mean it.

Watching him pound on steering wheels wondering how in the world anyone could be so excited about a song even after listening to it ten times…in a row. But it was infectious to not only me…but my gang as well.

 It was slightly humiliating, that everywhere we went there was a camera pointed at us. There was no music, save someone humming or singing softly. But that didn’t stop us, all 7 of us from dancing in the streets.

 Hot and sweaty. Exhausted and sunburned. Riding in the minivan over winding roads after riding a dozen rollercoasters did nothing to ease our stomachs. However, listening to the same song repeatedly seemed to do wonders. Well “I’ll be”, who knew?

 The speakers in my little Saturn could barely handle the volume that was pumping through them. And the cars next to us probably thought we were insane…trying to dance in the small space of that car. But we just couldn’t stop the beat. We must have listened to the song a dozen times. Of course we had the words memorized by now, and we tried to see how high we could go. And just picturing Link Larkin singing that song to us sent us into a swoon. He definitely is the ladies choice.

Running around in my room, jumping off the bed and onto the floor and back again listening to a song that described our current state perfect-Hyperactivity. Fourth graders have the most fun at birthday parties.

Dressing up was not just for little girls. Prom dresses were alll the rage at this sleepover. I can’t seem to remember everything…but for the most part, It’s All Comin Back to Me.

With every episode, I tried to get the beat right. Finally by the end of the season I could clap along with song perfectly thanks to the help of my Friends. I even knew all the words and had my own specific part to sing.

They were all lined up, all a sight in all their suits or tuxes. Everyone’s attention was on them. I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way? Well definitely that. It was a good laugh, but every girl couldn’t deny that she felt special right in that moment.

I was so embarrassed to sing it in front of her. I was angry that I was being made to. We hadn’t practiced enough. We didn’t have the harmony part down. But she wanted to hear it. It was her favorite song. So she set down her laundry basket and listened to us sing. I leaned on the recliner and averted my eyes. I looked at the ceiling, at the lamp, at the tv, but I didn’t have to confidence to make eye-contact as we made our way through the chorus and verses of “You Raise Me Up”.

It’s amazing to me how songs can bring back a memory…so specific that it can feel like yesterday. It can bring tears to your eyes, a smile to your face, or even just a fond thought in the back of your mind. It can definitely help with the homesickness, but other times I think it might make it worse. But as much as I would like to move on to another song sometimes, I keep hitting repeat. It’s automatic. A reflex. Some songs don’t bring back good memories. But they are still memories, and for some reason, I must want to put myself through the pain or through the anger. Feeling something is better than being numb. And I’ll keep listening to the songs, because they are like a photograph. For me they captured a moment in time that I can never go back to, but I can listen and remember every detail.

“Frankly, I felt as if I were being punished for the excesses of his previous relationship. I admired that he was being careful with my feelings and with his, but there’s careful and then there’s gutless.”

Siri L. Mitchell, Kissing Adrien