10 Steps Backwards. One Step Forward.

Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" is playing in the background. Saturday morning writing music.

I love Beyonce songs because they are so simple, strong-willed, and hopeful. Bootylicious! I rest my case. They speak to sentiments, that on a tearful Saturday morning, I know somewhere deep down I feel. If i sing along and repeat the words enough, I'll start to believe it somewhere closer to the surface. What's that? I'm too old to sound like a love-wrecked 16 year old? Yeah. You're probably right.

Here's the thing though about adulthood. The stakes are higher. Many of us who were writing tearful Saturday entries ten years ago on our xanga accounts about our painful break-ups have learned to stop betting big. We realize that breaking up happens. Get over it. Six months from now, it won't even matter! We can say all this though, but know sometimes we still bet big and lose. Those break ups will not be forgotten-- not in six months, six years, or even sixty -- no matter how emotionally "capable" we are equipped to handle it. These the events that make us wake up in a panic and curse Taylor Swift for being an evil genius.

With spring upon us (achoo!), wedding season is about to heat up. I have at least three weddings on my calendar in the coming months. This can be a stressful time for singles and couples alike. Seeing our peers make this monumental leap forces the question, vanity willing, what about me? The reactions tend to be pretty visceral: Hell no! Not me! or "When's my turn?" Sometimes these reactions are self-affirming. Singles and couples alike find they're exactly where they want to be. For others, well... let me introduce you to a few people:

The Soulless Cynic: Let me first clarify that being a cynic does not mean a person is soulless. Many cynics are just brutal realists, and a brutal world it is indeed. But, in order to have love and fall in love, you have to believe that it's possible. You can believe that it's difficult. It is. You can believe that it's unlikely. Probably is. My last relationship ended because one of us didn't believe in love and that we could have it. What makes someone a soulless cynic is how they respond when their belief in love is crushed or questioned. This is the person who proceeds on a Kill Bill style rampage on everyone around them. Their engaged friends become bumbling idiots who the soulless cynic seeks to break up for their friend's "own good." This is the person who responds to love with cruelty. I'm not saying that anyone who has made a cynical comment or lashed out an ex is soulless. Not at all. In fact, a dose of brutal honesty can go a log way occasionally. I'm all about the good fight and even a serving of revenge now and then, but why this person makes me immediately run for the hills is their lack of respect for anything. Even Uma in all her magnificent Hattori Hanzo-style glory stopped at Volume 2. To this person, there is no stopping, and the only function of this person in your life is to make you doubt yourself or feel like crap.

The Hopeless Romantic: My biases here should be no secret. There's something beautifully tragic about stories like Romeo and Juliet. The hopeless romantic gets swept off their feet no matter the circumstance. Here's the thing, though. Hopeless romantics can be pretty big idiots. Let's take Romeo and Juliet, for example. What a horrible case of bad logistics. Did they really have to die? For aesthetic purposes, yes. But for the purposes that relate to you and me-- Absolutely not. I am convinced that had one lived and not the other, they would have found love again. What hopeless romantics often do not know about themselves is that they are capable of being hopelessly romantic with more than one person. Sometimes even at the same time! (No judgements here) In seriousness, I knew I was in love with my ex-boyfriend when I would think about the possibility of life without him and feel physically ill. The danger in this feeling is that it can cause a person to hang onto a relationship for longer than they should. At age 25, if someone doesn't want to be with you, walk away. Love will still be there.

The Work-In-Progress: In some form or another, this category applies to us all. Modern living means that falling in love and getting married is not our only business in life. It's quite a list, actually: job, income, deciding what we're going to when we grow up, growing up, showering regularly, eating, staying alive... There's very few of my peers that I know who have all their affairs in order. We young people are a mess. (Not necessarily our fault!) But, some of us need our ducks to be in order before we can think of the other things.

So what does this all mean? Am I outlining the personality traits of the next love of my life? Meh. Fate is an unwieldy mistress. What I can say is who this person will not be, and until then, I have Beyonce to remind me, "I can have another of you in a minute."

Conversations with Gracchii: "When do you know that you are you?"

Gracchii expands on my previous reflection on faith to ask a doozey of about self-identity. When and how can we know ourselves? He ties this analysis to his recent reflections on Michael Frayn's play Copenhagen:

"...Werner Heisenberg explains to Niels Bohr that life is made up of moral decisions between absolutes, it is only when you make them that you actually profess which is more important. The play's Heisenberg had to choose between his family who might be bombed and destroyed by allied aircraft and the fact that only that bombing could destroy the odious Hitler regime..."

This exchange hits upon a greater discussion of morality. As Gracchii writes:

"Whether that was a real choice or a historically accurate presentation of the real choice that Heisenberg faced is immaterial, the real issue that Heisenberg demonstrates there is a conceptual one- between tyranny and family- and he argues that you can only resolve that through an action." [Emphasis added]

So how does this all relate to me?

"The idea of a ceremonial assertion of a belief is dying out: in the early modern period, you would sign oaths, in the medieval you would perform homage, but now if I'm a socialist or a conservative the most that happens it that I put a cross into a ballot box. Like Gracchae I wonder about the effect of this. Go back to Heisenberg, he argues in Frayn's play that the way I know what I believe is through my acting it out- in a sense the way Gracchae knows she is a Catholic is by being confirmed. How do I know though what my beliefs are if I do not act them out- if it is merely a cross in a ballot box?"

This has got me thinking about what things outside the religious context do I experience a similar process of professing my beliefs, ceremonial affirmation, followed by exemplifying those behaviors in my life (or at least struggling to). What's surprisng is that there's more examples in the modern of these processes than we think:

Take elementary school children in the United States who learn about the country's revolutionary roots and stand every morning to pledge allegiance to the flag. Or, the college students who endure ritual after ritual in becoming a member for a fraternity or sorority. Or, think of the corporate training or management programs that end with a graduation ceremony. The art of ritual is certainly alive and well, even if it is not universally present.

Having undergone all three of the above processes, in addition to the religious one that I'm slated to complete on April 3, I must admit that rituals have surprising effect. Consider the process of pledging a fraternity or sorority: essentially, it's a highly ritualized way of joining and making a group of friends. I can think of few things as silly, and yet I went through. And even more interestingly, I can think that the process was unnecessary and stupid, the oaths and rituals had meaning to me and in more than one occasion have influenced a decision that I made. The spoken promises had become action.

Of course, this is far from universal. One ritual that I think is fundamental to romantic relationships is saying, "I love you." Partners declare it to each other as a sign of their commitment and an understanding that they can expect a certain range of behaviors from the other. But as with other rituals, sometimes the words and the actions may not match. Someone might say "I love you" and then cheat or physically harm the other person. The emotion may still be very real, of course, but the responsibility associated with words is neglected. Conversely, someone's every actions may be full of love and care for another person, but they may resist saying "I love you" out of not wanting to be held to any responsibilities. It's like using a pre-paid cellphone. There's no expensive termination agreement in the contract.

So when do we know when we are who we are? I don't think we do. Events can change us in the ways where even our most strongly felt convictions go out the door. I think the best we can do is hope to be a certain type of person and that when those moments in life come that require us to take a stand and show others what we are made of, we will do so with dignity, honor, and strength.

"Took my heart to the limit, and this is where I'll stay..."

No words since it's the end of a very long work week. Instead, hit play below and have a dance party with me.

Talking the Talk, Walking the Walk

Today commences this blog's online countdown to April 3: Easter Vigil and my baptism and confirmation into the Roman Catholic church. I've been preparing for and discussing this decision for over a year, and even at this moment, I find myself at a loss for words for explanation. I also do not know how to speak about faith without it feeling corny. So I won't.

Instead, let's discuss more generally the difficulty of living your life by an ascribed set of principles. Every Sunday at Mass, Catholics profess their faith via the Nicene Creed. Belief in the creed is fundamental to being Catholic. But how does that translate to every day life? Do buy a WWJD bumper sticker and put it on the bumper of my car?

What I constantly struggle with is the responsibility associated with professing one's faith. The relatively unreligious first twenty-four years of my life have allowed for a degree of anonymity in this respect. Who knows what I believed and what others might of expected of me. I think, as a general rule, there are some universal scruples that apply in secular and religious codes of conduct. "Thou shou not kill" is a handy example. But the Catholic Church, however, is far more detail-orientated. So much so, that the catechism and the many, many encyclicals seems like more of a check-off list for all the things I've done wrong in the day.

So we have the general disappointment I often feel in myself of not keeping my end of the bargain-- "Catholic guilt," per say. But really, this feeling is true of any doctrine a person truly commits to -- spiritual, political, whatever. It's like being Southern Californian and saying "hella." For realz.

We also have the discomfort I feel of being defined by the stereotype of an identity. The existence of this blog confirms that my ego is robust, and well, it doesn't like for you to think for me inside the box. Or a circle for that matter, too. I want to be the llama in the sheep herd.

But, at the end of the day, religion does function as a social marker, even if it may have more profound individual meanings. And like a light beckoning a fly is an invitation for judgement.

Thus, as per usual, we end the night in a general state of confusion, except for this one point: every so often in life, we act because we know it's right. I don't mean this in the "right" or "wrong" sense, but in that you just know this is what you're meant to do. This could manifest in terms of taking a new job, moving to a new city, dumping a deadbeat boyfriend, chopping off all your hair, getting married, and so on and so forth. To me, that's faith: making a decision and feeling confident enough to stick with it.

And there I go being corny again. Goodnight!

I'm clocking in today 21 minutes late

But perhaps when you hear of my day, you'll cut me some slack?

Let me start with the obvious: It was Monday. I came to the office to find my pet fish had kicked the bucket. It's other four friends had died Friday. Since Thursday, I had managed to kill all five of my first five pet fish! We had named the remaining fish "Survivor." He had an undignified burial that may or may not have involved getting stuck in the fish tank filter. Maybe I should have started with a potted plant.

Then, I realized that I forgot to bring my wallet! No ID, no lunch money! Which means my breakfast and lunch consisted of a nutrigrain bar.

Exit scene. Later in the day brought me to an alumni event with my university. I have two words to describe the event: open bar.

Which brings me to my current state of liver mind -- that had previously been reserved for some serious, diligent goal setting. What shall we accomplish in these three months?

As with many things in life, there are things we'd like to accomplish and the things that we, despite our best efforts, will do anyway. We can chalk tonight up to the latter, but no regrets here.

Happy Women's Day, btw!

Subject-Verb-Object-Punctuate.

Why hello friends? Miss me? After several months of inactivity, I've re-emerged from cyber silence with a two-fold purpose.

First, to remember how to write. Once upon a time in my (possibly inaccurate) recollection of the past, I was a pretty solid writer. Nice style. Witty content. Charming exposition. These days, if my subjects and verbs agree, I call it a victory. For sheer sake of needing practice, I have decided to commit to writing in this blog daily for the next three months. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Nearly all languages follow a similar syntax: subject-verb-object. Maybe if I'm feeling fancy, I'll throw in an adjective or adverb. But what shall I write about?

I admit, this is a problem that has long-plagued my writing. I mean, surely it must be vanity to think that anyone would care to read my random musings or daily happenings. Alas, I have had a change of heart on the topic. As my blog identity indicates, I enjoy claiming title as "official little sister" to Gracchii -- a wonderful friend and amazing scholar. Let's be honest, I may not share his zeal for history, but every time I sit to read his post, I'm prompted to think of something new or consider something familiar in a different light. Living an ocean away, Gracchii's blog and those of many others substitute for the long face-to-face conversations, until we can one day meet again.

Which leads me to my second purpose: I'm newly twenty-five years of age and pour la meilleure et le pire, feeling the "quarter life crisis" itch. For example, I've recently developed an unexplainable fascination with llamas. I've decided to document it, as well as use blog to hopefully encourage some structure and productivity to the crazy. I have been searching for a lot of answers, obsessing over movies, books, horoscopes, religion, and the like. I watched the (500) Days of Summer today. I haven't found a lot of answers. Every once in a while though, things do come along that move me. Today, this was it:

"The essay was the short version of a memoir I wrote during a rough time in my marriage because I needed that book on my bedside table—one which would speak to me from the trenches, letting me know that I could be powerful and even happy, especially in a crisis. Mine could be a different reaction than what we see so often in our society. I didn’t have to be reactionary. I didn’t have to play victim. I didn’t have to suffer. But I couldn’t find a book like that—a simple story of a woman’s journey that wasn’t specifically spiritual or self-help, but like sitting with a gentle friend who is willing to be vulnerable and share her world so we don’t have to feel so alone. I couldn’t find that book, so I wrote it. That’s what we writers do. We write what we know. We write for ourselves and we write to provide relief for others. We write our way through life, and in some cases, we write our way to life. That’s how it happened for me during that challenging time."

The quote above comes from the an author of a NYT article that I have been obsessed with for months. I may discuss in at some point in these three months why her article captivates me, but today it was her line, "I couldn't find that book, so I wrote it."

So, that's what I'm going to do too. I'm calling it the "Three Month Project." Why? Well, a corporate seminar that I recently attended instructed me that goals should have a concrete timeline, be specific, and be reasonable. My high school student council advisor once chided me for writing down as my goal for the year "to be happy." I still that was a douche move, but from a practical stand-point, he may have had a point.

Here it goes...