Chronic Dwelling

I come to you today seeking advice, dear blog readers. As you may have surmised (or not, I mean it’s kind of presumptuous to expect that you all have nothing better to do than psychoanalyze me), I am a chronic dweller. I worry constantly about making the right decisions in the future and about the decisions I’ve already made. What if, I think at least three times a day, I had gone to a different college? What if I’d majored in dance? What if, what if, what if? Despite my frequent attempts to reassure myself that I’m getting a good education at my college, that I’m glad I’m not in another four-year dance degree program, I tend to dwell on all the negative elements of my current situation: I settled for a less academically rigorous school when I had the grades and the work ethic to attend a much more challenging college or university. I have no close friends at college and while I’ve met some delightful people, I have little in common with most of my fellow students. For instance: I still check books out of the library. I’m a marred, conservative Christian with social anxiety. Also, I don’t care about fashion or being a STAR. I have to remind myself that all the decisions I’ve made got me where I am now. In many ways this is a good thing. I met Graham and many of my closest friends and while I may have met many of them, um, online originally,  the people who introduced us are fellow Harry Potter fans I first met in New York City, while lonely and looking for friends. Who knows. If I’d gone to say, Columbia or one of the dance conservatories I applied to, things may have turned out differently. I could be a college drop-out! A petty thief! Selling myself on the streets to support my seven children and severe caffeine addiction!

Graham’s Big College Decision will determine where we live next year and where and when I can go to graduate school. Speaking of grad school, do you know how many Alternate Futures exist in my brain. I cam extremely close to applying for a last-minute Fulbright grant to go abroad and conduct research for my book. (Did I mention I’m working on a book? I hesitate to call it a book because it’s more like a collection of notes and outlines and emails right now. More information to come.) After some contemplation and prayer, it became very clear that God wants me to wait. Rather than rush through life, like I tend to do, it’s time to take a breath, re-focus and wait for His timing. After all, I’m graduating college two years ahead of schedule so that I can focus on dance for a while. It’s time for Graham to enjoy his college experience instead of being dragged all over the country so that I can feel like I’m doing something worthwhile and impressive. Plus, I don’t even think my “book” is going to require an extensive amount of overseas research, I don’t think I’m ready to be essentially alone in a foreign country and there are a lot  more people more deserving of that grant than I am. There’s a chance I’ll apply in a year or two or three, but now is now the right time.  And I think I’d rather, like, go to a traditional graduate school anyway. As much as I want to start grad school right away, I’m practicing patience on that front as well. But there are so many wrong decisions to make! What if I choose the wrong school or wrong program and worse, what if I don’t get in anywhere at all or get no financial aid? What if I can’t handle the pressure and spontaneously combust in the middle of writing my thesis? I’m going to spend the next year seriously considering my options: MFA writing program? Theological studies program?  Useless post-graduate dance program? Big university? Seminary? Christian school?

Good news: Graham’s already said “no” to any Ivy Leagues (except Columbia because I kind of really like it there), so my choices are already more limited than they were a year ago!

Are you a recovered or recovering chronic dweller? Got any advice?

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. – Jeremiah 29.11

Oh. Maybe that’ll do. Thanks, Jeremiah.

I come to you today seeking advice, dear blog readers. As you may have surmised (or not, I mean it’s kind of presumptuous to expect that you all have nothing better to do than psychoanalyze me), I am a chronic dweller. I worry constantly about making the right decisions in the future and about the decisions I’ve already made. What if, I think at least three times a day, I had gone to a different college? What if I’d majored in dance?

What if, what if, what if?!

Despite my frequent attempts to reassure myself that I’m getting a good education at my college, that I’m glad I’m not in another four-year dance degree program, I tend to dwell on all the negative elements of my current situation: I settled for a less academically rigorous school when I had the grades and the work ethic to attend a much more challenging college or university. I have no close friends at college and while I’ve met some delightful people, I have little in common with most of my fellow students. For instance: I still check books out of the library. I’m a married, conservative Christian with social anxiety. Also, I don’t care about fashion or being a STAR. I have to remind myself that all the decisions I’ve made got me where I am now. In many ways this is a good thing. I met Graham and many of my closest friends and while I may have met many of them, um, online originally,  the people who introduced us are fellow Harry Potter fans I first met in New York City, while lonely and looking for friends. Who knows. If I’d gone to say, Columbia or one of the dance conservatories I applied to, things may have turned out differently. I could be a college drop-out! A petty thief! Selling myself on the streets to support my three children and severe caffeine addiction!

Graham’s Big College Decision will determine where we live next year and where and when I can go to graduate school. Speaking of grad school, do you know how many Alternate Futures exist in my brain. I cam extremely close to applying for a last-minute Fulbright grant to go abroad and conduct research for my book. (Did I mention I’m working on a book? I hesitate to call it a book because it’s more like a collection of notes and outlines and emails right now. More information to come.) After some contemplation and prayer, it became very clear that God wants me to wait. Rather than rush through life, like I tend to do, it’s time to take a breath, re-focus and wait for His timing. After all, I’m graduating college two years ahead of schedule so that I can focus on dance for a while. It’s time for Graham to enjoy his college experience instead of being dragged all over the country so that I can feel like I’m doing something worthwhile and impressive. Plus, I don’t even think my “book” is going to require an extensive amount of overseas research, I don’t think I’m ready to be essentially alone in a foreign country and there are a lot  more people more deserving of that grant than I am. There’s a chance I’ll apply in a year or two or three, but now is now the right time.  And I think I’d rather, like, go to a traditional graduate school anyway. As much as I want to start grad school right away, I’m practicing patience on that front as well. But there are so many wrong decisions to make! What if I choose the wrong school or wrong program and worse, what if I don’t get in anywhere at all or get no financial aid? What if I can’t handle the pressure and spontaneously combust in the middle of writing my thesis? I’m going to spend the next year seriously considering my options: MFA writing program? Theological studies program?  Useless post-graduate dance program? Big university? Seminary? Christian school?

Good news: Graham’s already said “no” to any Ivy Leagues (except Columbia because I kind of really like it there), so my choices are already more limited than they were a year ago!

Are you a recovered or recovering chronic dweller? Got any advice?

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”- Jeremiah 29.11

Oh. Maybe that’ll do. Thanks, Jeremiah.

A Homeymoon and Life Beyond

The honeymoon Graham and I imagined underwent a myriad of transformations throughout our engagement. A little less than a year ago, when Graham and I first discussed our potential marriage, his first question– even before “Will you marry me?”– was, “Where should we honeymoon!?”  I guess he was excited about it or something. Graham first suggested “The Mediterranean Coast” and “Italy” and probably “Mars” before I reminded him of the sad state of our bank accounts. After officially becoming engaged and eventually setting a date, we toyed with the idea of honeymooning in Outer Banks, North Carolina where he and his family frequently vacation. Because of a few complications like not owning a car and not wanting to drive hundreds of miles on unfamiliar highway (I’m a skittish driver with a terrible sense of direction), we nixed this idea. We came very close to booking a vacation cabin in the Catskill mountains (reasonably price and close to home) but my family thought of a better plan. My dad’s family lives in Mexico and owns a condo in Acapulco, which they graciously offered us the week following our wedding. My dad planned to help us with the airfare and aside from Graham’s lack of passport, everything seemed fabulous. Due to unforeseen financial difficulties, my Dad ended up helping us with the broker fee on our new apartment as a wedding gift rather than pay our airfare to Mexico. Realizing that we’d rather have a place to live for a year than a six day vacation, we opted to forgo a proper honeymoon and save the money for a big trip next summer.

Nevertheless we still had a relaxing and incredibly fun first week as Mr. and Mrs. Badger. We stayed two nights at a gorgeous hotel near the site of our wedding where we spent a day and a half being completely lazy, drinking water out of champagne flutes and eating way too much at the four star, river view restaurant on the hotel’s lower level. Although we left our room quite a bit (surprisingly) we rarely saw other guests. Even the swimming pool was completely empty aside from Graham and I, which meant we acted completely juvenille and spent way longer in the hot tub than is healthy or necessary. Our room was almost as large as our entire apartment back home and completely worth the high cost. I almost refused to leave when check-out time rolled around on Monday.

Because of a lot of reasons I won’t discuss in length, Graham and I had to take separate flights back to New York. I left first on Monday afternoon, while Graham arrived the next evening– not the way to kick off a honeymoon. I love Manhattan, but after spending ten days in a place as beautiful and serene and community-oriented as Graham’s hometown, the city felt empty, dirty and just . . . too much. I never thought I’d feel the need to live anywhere else, but the more my priorities change in adulthood, the more I realize that I can’t do the New York Thing forever. I can’t deal with the materialism and the crowds and the somewhat shallow attitude posessed by so many people here. There are rich, vibrant communities and a lot of layers to this plays, but as a middle class, white, conservative Christian, married nineteen year old, I don’t fit here anymore. Upon arriving in the city again, I resolved to enjoy life here while I can because I know I’ll miss it when and if we move away.

I spent Tuesday pining for Graham, cleaning the apartment and shopping with our wedding giftcards. Disappointed by ugly selection of area rugs at Bed, Bath and Beyond, I purchased such exciting items as kitchen cleaner, potholders, a tablecloth and fragrant candles to help me feel less lonely. While waiting for Graham to get home, I twittered obnoxiously and cooked a semi-elaborate dinner which I had waiting on our tiny kitchen table when Graham walked in the door. We turned off our phones and spent the next five days on a “homeymoon staycation” that looked a little like this (figuratively speaking):

• Wednesday, we walked around the Upper West Side, browsing our favorite thrift store, a great place called Housing Works which sells donated, high quality items to fight AIDS and homelessness in NYC. After acquiring a shirt, two dinner plates and a pair of reading classes for a total of about $10, we walked through central park and briefly considered visiting the zoo or a museum before deciding that we’d rather spend three hours at a new bookstore that recently opened on the Upper East Side (which we did). That evening we picnicked on the floor of our unfurnished living room watching some lighthearted comedy and fell asleep at 9pm.
• Thursday was “Brooklyn Day.” We indulged our touristy side and hiked over the Brooklyn Bridge, marveling at the gorgeous views of Manhattan and the East River. Upon reaching the borough of my former residence, we walked to a cute rare and used bookshop near the bridge where Graham looked for rare copies of important novels and I reminisced over my favorite children’s classics. We resisted buying anything and instread hopped on a subway to the Park Slope neighborhood for lunch at my favorite brooklyn vegan cafe and a visit to the magnifiscent Brooklyn Public Library. I played in some water fountains with a group of six year olds and Graham looked at their expansive collection of college & university reference books. Greenwood Cemetery was on our agenda, but we were both so exhausted from walking all day that we decided to head back home to Upper Manhattan, watch another movie and fall asleep way too early.
• On Friday, we rose with the sun (um, sort of) and braved the confusing MTA bus system to spend the day at Orchard Beach in the Bronx. I tend to think of the Bronx as the mysterious last few stops on the 6 train, the zoo and a place where people get mugged, but to my delight this often unvisited borough is home to one of the most gorgeous and relatively quiet beaches in the Bronx. Though the water was freezing and there were few waves or food and beverage options, we spent hours in the water and “tanning” on the sandy shore. In reality, Graham’s too white to tan. He got a little color and a lot of neck sunburn, while I got in interestingly complex tanline from my new “modest” swimsuit. (Okay, it’s not THAT modest compared to my usual standards but it’s got a skirt and a long top, which makes me a nun compared to your average sunbathing New Yorker.)  There are few things I love more than a day spent by the water, so this was without a doubt my favorite day of the honeymoon. That evening we stayed in (as usual), made pizza and watched another cheesy movie of my choosing.
• Saturday was mostly spent walking around the East Village, eating falafel and spending more time at bookstores. (Housing Works Bookstore and Cafe to be precise. Easily my favorite spot for CHEAP books and good coffee, all for a great cause.)  I’m sure we fell asleep at like 8pm and played Bingo or something.

After we came back to “real life”, Graham went back to work, I went back to dance and we both got sick.  I had a moderately successful audition for a regional musical while sustaining a 101 degree fever, which proves that I dance better when I’m not trying and possibly carrying swine flu. I’ve been incredibly spoiled over the past few weeks, spending my days playing housewife and going to dance class. Once I start school, I’m going to have stress and more responsibility and all kinds of fun things. As of now, I essentially clean a lot , cook a lot, do dishes, go to dance class and write. Right now, my good friend Adam is in the city and staying with us, so I’m getting to play hostess as well as housewife. It’s amazing how much more I care about things being cleaned and organized when the things are my responsibility. I’m by no means a neat freak, but there’s something so peaceful and home-y about having a clean apartment that’s mine. It makes me feel like I’m doing my job right. It doesn’t hurt that I have the most caring, thoughtful husband in the world who continually raves about my cooking to anyone who’ll listen. I know my life is about a lot more than cooking and cleaning, but right now, it’s pretty satisfying to know I’ve got those two things down.

This entry was all over the place and I’m sorry. Starting next week, I’ll be back in school, back to work more often and probably not blogging quite so much. If you want to keep up with what’s going on with Graham and I, follow us on our new blog Marriage on the Quad where we’ll be discussing college, work, marriage, faith and other things. It’ll have way more structure than this ol’ thing and you’ll probably see a lot more of my domestic side– recipes, tips for saving money on stuff etc. I’ll still be maintaining Words Can Keel(er) but chances are I’ll update Marriage on the Quad more frequently. Apologies again for the unusually long,  fever-induced blabbering. Time to go take care of my sick husband (and self).

An Absurdly Long Post About A Wedding

I keep trying to write a blog entry about the wedding that does it justice, but it appears I’ll never be able to, so you’ll have to deal with my pixelated, low-quality, camera phone version.

As you might surmise from my previous couple of entries, 89% of my brain had convinced the remaining optimistic 11% that the entire wedding would somehow erupt in figurative and/or literal flames hours before the ceremony. I envisioned Graham and myself forced to marry in a stranger’s basement,  with a ten second ceremony officiated by a guy named Larry from Down the Block a recently ordained Our Lady of the Internet minister, followed by a celebratory toast with Kool Aid Koolers or maybe Capri Sun*, all while wearing sweatpants. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would experience such a joyful, serene wedding day.

Following my “bachelorette party” on Thursday night which mostly involved discussions of theology, Harry Potter and virginity (usually not at the same time) with some of my closest friends, we spent the majority of Friday setting up tables, unloading a million chairs from a truck (well, ok, about 160),  and sweeping bat feces from the floor of a barn. For little guys, bats have lots of bowel movements. The amount of people who turned out to help with all of these tasks (including people who weren’t ask) astounded me. Even the wedding rehearsal was far more seamless than I anticipated, thanks to the wonderful leadership of the pastor and cooperation by the attendants and family members (and friends who stood-in for missing grandparents).

I had my last minor breakdown of the week at the rehearsal dinner. The Badger family generously hosted what felt like a thousand people in their home– but was actually more like forty– and made waffles, complete with homemade whipped cream for all of them. While Mr. and Mrs. Badger never ceased being gracious and generous, the sheer number of people completely overwhemed me. Many of them traveled hundreds of miles for the wedding and I wanted to spend time talking to and hugging all of them, but there were just . . . so many. A member in good standing of the Socially Challenged Introverts League, at the end of a long, hot day the last thing I usually want to do is put on a smile and socialize. I felt guilty for not being entertaining enough, and had to take a break outside for a few minutes in order to avoid succumbing to tears. Graham, amazing man that he is, refused to let me alone (because, to paraphrase Dumbledore, human beings have a knack for wanting precisely the things that are worst for them) and walked with me a while to calm me down. No one encourages and inspires me, quite like he does, and after our brief conversation I enjoyed the rest of the evening much more thoroughly.

I slept in on Saturday and spent the majority of the morning swimming with Rachel, my sister, and best friend, Mia. We amused ourselves largely by attempting ballet choreography in the water. For some reason, the absurdity of of an aquatic tour jeté has amused us for the past eight years. After far too many hours of showering, hair (done my my mother), and makeup  (by yours truly) in the company of my bridesmaids, we arrived at the wedding, albeit slightly behind schedule. I waited in the barn, where the reception would take place, for a few minutes while I hugged a few people and we all gathered our gorgeous bouquets. In the blink of an eye, I was walking down the aisle to my favorite hymn, on my father’s arm. For our friends less familiar with our faith and belief system, the religious nature of the ceremony may have been a little overwhelming, but for us it was perfect. We exchanged vows reflective of our beliefs about the marriage covenant (see Ephesians 5), exchanged rings (which are family heirlooms) and were pronounced Man and Wife.  Word on the street says a butterfly flew over us in that moment, but I’ve yet to see the photographic evidence.

The reception . . .oh, goodness. The reception was just fun. I won’t bore you with excruciating detail, but the food was wonderful, the cake looked beautiful and tasted better and I danced to ridiculous music with the Harry Potter Fandom. Seriously. 100% of my “Harry Potter friends” danced, while about 10% of other guests dared take to the dance floor. I love my Potter friends.

Speaking of friends, Graham and I are still reeling with how generous and fantastic our friends and family are. On Saturday, dozens of volunteers (some of whom I’d never even met, or barely kn0w) gathered at the wedding venue to decorate and continue setting up for the ceremony and reception. We hired no caterer or wedding planner. Graham’s father and some family friends barbecued all day on Thursday and Friday for the carnivores, while my mother and Graham’s grandmother put together most of the rest of the food (salad, fruit salad, hummus, pita) and the day of the reception a host of volunteers prepared a hundred ears of corn on the cob. Have I mentioned how good the corn was? You haven’t had corn until you’ve had Ohio corn. Graham’s aunt brought a host of remarkable ideas to the table and contributed a variety of items for decorating purposes, the pastor’s wife paid for our D.J. (a church friend) when she discovered we weren’t planning on having one, and the florist (also a church/family friend) charged far less than she could have given the quality and quanntity of the flowers we ordered. Not to mention the fact, that an entire family from the church acted as servers for the reception. They served guests, replaced food on the buffet line, cleared plates and even handed out wet wipes so that guests could clean up after eating the messy food. I saw and felt the love of Christ in all those people that week and there’s no way I could ever thank them enough. That’s what weddings should feel like– not corporate, mass produced obligations but community-centered celebrations of love, family and God’s grace.

I’ll updated soon to tell you about our “homeymoon” (stay-at-home honeymoon) or at least about some of the mini-vacation. I just made you uncomfortable, didn’t I? Thanks for reading this obscenely long entry, and please take a minute to bookmark the new blog I’m starting with my husband: http://marriageonthequad.blogspot.com in which we’ll blog about the unique challenges of being married college students. I know the name is corny and kind of dumb, but I registered it in the wee hours of the morning while half asleep and I can’t think of anything better.

P.S. No, this blog’s name isn’t changing either. Words Can Badger sounds funny, but Graham says no.

*Ok, maybe this was wishful thinking. I actually really like capri suns. They come in shiny pouches that inflate.

Wedding Week Ups and Downs

Rather than be productive with my down time and actually finish cutting my wedding processional music  or finishing my bridesmaids’ gifts, I’m preparing to release my pre-wedding stress, frustration and joy into the familiar, comforting void of the Internet. If you’d rather not read the unnecessarily dramatic complaints of a spoiled, incredibly blessed bride in the days before her wedding, I recommend you spend your time doing something more useful, like drinking chocolate soymilk or combing your eyebrows.

First of all, the fun, happy, good things that happened, are happening or will happen this week: Graham and I arrived in Ohio (albeit seperately) without a glitch, we got our marriage license with no problems and spent a lot of time enjoying the company and fellowship of his family and our other friends in Ohio. (Thanks to everyone who prayed!) I used to be really flippant and snobbish about small town life, but it’s really started to grow on me. I love that everyone in Graham’s home town knows each other and that it’s no big deal to just wander into the neighbor’s house for a chat. I adore the fresh, clean air and gorgeous trees, valleys and rivers and the unique craftsman houses in the woods. I never thought I’d say this, but I can definitely imagine living somewhere cute and rural someday. Preferably nothing too suburban, too lame or too far away from a large city. A part of me will always be a city girl.

After so long in a liberal urban enclave, it’s also refreshing  to be in a house surrounded by people with whom I share similar values and convictions. There’s something comforting about staying in a place where there’s a Bible in every room, Pslams taped to the refridgerator and Creationism magazines in the bathroom. I love the routine of a large family gathering around the table to say grace before a meal; I love the fact that my sister wore a shirt today that sports dualistic images of Heaven and Hell along with a “Where will you go?” message. My friend, Hayley, and I discovered that we find the sound of Rush Limbaugh’s voice comforting because it reminds us of our childhoods. We also spent a good 15 minutes today reminiscing over a teen Christian girl’s magazine we both used to read. It made me remember that I’m not the only conservative Christian girl in the world and that it’s ok to like, believe in gender roles and Jesus and stuff. I’ve also spent a lot of time getting to know Graham’s family who are possibly the coolest bunch of people in the world. I can’t believe how blessed I am. It blows my mind.  People are bending over backwards to help us, without even being asked, donating their time and money and whatever else they have to make our wedding special and it’s completely amazing. Two of my bridesmaids, Leah and Amanda arrived today and with them, brought an abundance of support, love and uncanny ability to make me laugh.

Things that aren’t going so well: Now that I wrote about all the good stuff, I can’t remember most of the bad stuff. It sounds corny, but it’s kind of true. Mostly, its just that I suck at arts & crafts. I feel like putting together a wedding is a lot like putting together a craft project. Thus, I lack the same skills in wedding planning that I lacked in arts & crafts during church summer camp. I can imagine what I want things to look like, but have a hard time with the fine motor skills and decisive aggressiveness required to make my visions reality. I don’t know what I want half the time and when I do, I have a hard time expressing my desires in such a way that actually . . . makes sense. Then, I end up giving in to other people’s suggestions just because it’s easier. Then I get frustrated and dont want to hurt people’s feelings, but also want things done the way I envision. Plus, I’m upset that a lot of my close friends won’t be here and that several people who will be here, won’t be happy about it. Have I mentioned that my mom stresses me out, too? (Mom, if you’re reading this, I love you and you’re awesome for doing all of this, but it’s true.)

Whinefest complete. Tomorrow we have a breakfast meeting with the pastor at an unholy hour after which Graham embarks on his all day Bachelor party while I get my hair cut, my eyebrows painfully waxed, plucked and otherwise made painfully beautiful and bring the cake topper to the bakery. At some point tomorrow, we will also shop for food for the reception and otherwise plan for the next two days. My bachelorette party is tomorrow night and as far as I know the plan is to drink lots of tea, consume lots of chocolate, make wedding night jokes that make everyone uncomfortable and watch animated movie musicals.

Thanks for the prayers and support! If I won’t see you this weekend “IRL” look for a post-wedding post in the next two weeks.

I’M GETTING MARRIED.

Prayers Requested

I feel like I need to blog right now. I came home from saying goodbye to a friend who’s leaving New York this weekend at the conclusion of her summer internship and began the overwhelming process of packing for the next week. After about five minutes of cramming a third of the contents of my closet into my tiny blue suitcase, I realized that haphazardly throwing clothes into a bag probably wasn’t the best approach and resolved to start over in a more organized fashion. As I made myself a cup of tea and sat down in front of my word processor to type out a concise list of everything I would need in the days leading up to my wedding, I was struck with the suddent momentousness of the occasion. Granted, I like to over-exaggerate the momentousness of measurements of time in my head, but still. This is my last night in New York as a single person, my last night of lying wide awake on the large air mattress that serves as my temporary bed trying to ignore the creepy sounds my creaky apartment building makes at 3am. I felt the sudden desire to record this moment for posterity, imagining tonight as some Great Turning Point in the unconsequential story of my existence.

I’m elated and excited and feel so unbelievably blessed. In spite of my stress and worry about trivial concerns, I’m confident that our wedding–and marriage– will emerge victorious and successful. That said, I present this very special list:

Events, Situations and Other Miscellaneous Thingybobs Which Need Prayer

1. Graham’s photo ID situation. Due to an array of unpleasant circumstances out of his control, Graham no longer has a photo ID. As you may know, you need a photo ID to be a functioning adult in the world today. As such, he has to take a bus part of the way to Ohio and be driven by amazing, selfless, caring, devoted friends the other part of the way rather than fly. Once in Ohio, he should be able to secure a new ID. If he doesn’t, we can’t  get a marriage license. Please pray things go smoothly.

2. The transportation of items and people situation. Figuring out who is going to take items to the venue and when should be fun to figure out. Figuring out how to transport myself, my bridal party and my myrian of out-of-town guests who don’t have vehicles should also be fun. Pray things go smoothly.

3. The weather situation. I may not have fantasized about THE perfect wedding my entire life, but I have always wanted an outdoor wedding. The outdoor venue with which I was blessed for the ceremony is literally my idea of a perfect, picturesque wedding setting, but some meteorologists predict heavy rain for the day of the wedding. There is a back up plan that involves having the ceremony in the same converted barn as the reception and while this wouldn’t be THE END OF THE WORLD,  it would make my heart a little bit melancholy. Pray for clear skies.

There are loads more individual situations that need prayer, but threes plenty for this entry. If I have time this week, I’ll try and update at least once more before the wedding itself, but I can’t promise anything. Graham and I arrive in Ohio (separately) late Saturday night and early Sunday morning we’re kicking off the week at the Medieval Faire with some friends. After this day of reenacting a depressing, unsanitary period of human history, things get nuts. My mom and sister arrive, we glue small beads on various decorative objects, meet the DJ and florist IRL for the first time and have our final couple of pre-marital counseling sessions. (In which, among other things we get to talk about sex with our Pastor, every prude young Christian’s dream.)

Thanks for the prayers and the well-wishes. See you in Ohio.

Living Well, Living New York

My three-week temp job at a publishing house ended yesterday. I’m as apathetic about leaving that job as I was about the job itself, but today, I reveled in my unemployment by sleeping past 9am and wearing unprofessional garb. I would have slept later, but my Dick Van Dyke Show theme song ring tone, interrupted my dream about ballet workshops, brownies, and New Jersey, forcing me to open my bleary eyes and fumble around for my phone. I think the florist was on the other end, but at this point all the phone calls kind of run together. I only know that someone had a very one-sided conversation with my half-awake self and that I replied “yes, of course” a lot. I may have just agreed to join a cult in Staten Island, but I’m going to pretend I was very bridely and talked about official wedding-ish stuff.

After this cryptic exchange, I planned to simply walk to down to the nearby bank, come home, do some chores and then take the subway downtown to visit Graham at work. Instead, I left the bank and decided to go on an adventure. Since moving to this neighborhood, I’ve had little time to explore properly. When I’m in the area I’m usually in my apartment or hiking through the nearby parks which– incidentally– were just featured in the New York Times wellness blog. Little did I know that I live in one of the most vibrant areas of the city. As I walked south on Broadway through Washington Heights and the northern stretch of Harlem, I found myself wishing I had about a dozen more eyes. (Like Harry Potter upon seeing Diagon Alley for the first time.) Maybe because I grew up in a heavily Mexican-American city, and spent many school holidays visiting family in Mexico, but being in a Spanish-speaking neighborhood is comforting to me in a weird way. It reminds me of home and childhood and unforgettable moments.

After about a mile of strolling, I headed West toward the Hudson river an riverside park, favorite route of bicyclists and joggers. Water is my element. I can stand and stare at a fountain or pond or ocean for hours and the only way to get me to relax when tightly wound is a long swim or dip in the hot tub. I resisted my temptation to simply sit on a bench and gaze over the water at the New Jersey shoreline (which looks much prettier from a distance) and continued walking along the water front until I reached 125th street. Walking this route lead me to undiscovered churches, playgrounds and beautiful scenic paths that felt miles away from the city.

I briefly considered hanging out around the Columbia University campus (where I am considering applying for graduate school someday) but my desire for air conditioning and water conquered my masochistic, unattainable fantasies involving the Ivy League, so I hopped on a south-bound bus instead. I rode the bus all the way down the east side of Central Park, exiting a few blocks from Graham’s work. Although the city buses are slow, it’s nice to be above ground during transit sometimes. It makes me feel like a real person, rather than some anonymous, frantic zombie zooming through smelly tunnels all the time. The subway and I are like an old married couple– we bicker and I complain about it, but I ride it all the time and wouldn’t know what to do without it. (Feel free to make that dirty if you want to, you sick-minded freaks.)

I watched Graham make some coffee, perused guilty-pleasure young adult novels at the bookstore and ended the day in the East Village, learning some news about upcoming dance-related opportunities involving my church. The moral of the story? Today was an exciting day. Nothing huge or profound or life shaking occurred, but I lived  and lived well. I know that when and if I move away from New York, days like today will be the ones I miss most. Not that there won’t be  things to explore no matter where I go, but its hard to imagine finding such diversity of people and landscapes anywhere else. No matter how well I think I know this place, I always find something new. To be honest, at times I loathe it. At times, I can’t wait to live away from the smell, the crowds, the attitudes, but there’s something here that speaks to me, something ineffable. And you know what? I think ineffability is the key. If I could map out this city’s good and bad qualities, then it wouldn’t be New York.

13 Days

I never cease to be amazed at how quickly time passes. A few months ago, August seemed as far away as Darwin’s Origin of the Species from the Southern Baptist Convention’s recommended reading list and now it’s here. That’s the way time usually works though, barring the involvement of Christopher Lloyd or Hermione Granger’s jewelry– it usually moves forward like this. I mean, I’ve been doing this Life thing for over nineteen years, so you’d think I’d get it by now. Nevertheless, my brain still reeled in surprise when I woke up yesterday morning to the warm, midsummer sun and thought “IT’S AUGUST! AUGUST EXISTS!”

A whole day later, it’s no longer sunny and I’ve stopped thinking in all caps (for the most part) but I’m still awe-struck that I get married in less than two weeks. The past few days revealed that this is the part of the wedding planning process when you have to start being on the phone or answering emails all the time. From two hour pre-marital counseling sessions via speaker phone with the pastor who will officiate the ceremony, to hastily typed emails to the florist, to answering text, Facebook and telepathic messages from friends regarding travel plans and other details, I feel like I’m never without some sort of digital communication device. I’m also kind of a sucky bride. I’m supposed to know exactly what I want the napkins to look like, exactly how I want my bouquet hang and exactly how everything should unfold that day. To be honest, everytime I thought about my wedding as a little girl, it looked different. I fantasized about Celtic weddings, Swing Dance weddings, Renaissance weddings, Simple Pastoral weddings and Harry Potter weddings. Now all that really matters to me is marrying Graham. I mean, I want the wedding to be lovely and enjoyable and unique, but if I can have a strong marriage and a loving husband, none of the other stuff is that important.

Because of money and time and other practical factors, none of the themed weddings conceptualized by brilliant ten year old me could fully be realized, so I ditched the theme idea. Nevertheless, a little bit of all of those themes somehow made it into the wedding plans. We’ve got a beautiful pastoral setting (read: farm and barn), celtic hymns and post-wedding bonfirething, plenty of swing music and jazz at the reception, and a few Harry Potter touches in decorative details. The tiara part of my veil was purchased at a renaissance festival to round things out. On top of that, the BBQ, casual atmosphere and well, lack of indoor plumbing, add touches from each of our families. (My family really likes camping out in places without bathrooms, Graham’s family is a fan of the grill, and my parent’s wedding involved paper plates. Not that we’re goint to be having paper plates, but we thought about it.)

I’m also thrilled that I’ve largely managed to escape the soul-sucking, wallet-draining clutches of the mass-produced wedding industry. The venue belongs to Graham’s church, the florist a family friend, the DJ recommended (and graciously paid for) by the Pastor’s wife. My mom made the table cloths and most of the decorations, family and friends are preparing the food, and my dress was ordered from a vintage shop for a barely triple digit sum. Ok, the wedding cake is outsourced, but only because Graham really wants a pretty cake. And he’s the groom so I guess he has some say in dessert choice. There’s still a lot to be done, but I’m so greatful and thankful for all the help I’ve had so far from my supportive family and friends. I can’t believe so many people are traveling so far for this wedding and I’m almost more excited about seeing all of my friends than I am about the wedding itself. (That’s a stretch actually, but I am pretty thrilled about seeing many of my closest friends all in one place.)

I’ll hopefully update at least once or twice before the wedding. See you later in (gasp) August!

Flourescently-Lit Achievement

Several months ago, I compiled a list of Things I’m Supposed to Like by Don’t. This week, I realized that my list should also include a sub-category: Things I’m Supposed to Want but Just Make Me Depressed.

Over the course of my overly ambitious and eager childhood, I programed the multitude of cells and slimy mass that today’s leading scientific experts often refer to as my “Brain” to constantly achieve. I’m not even really sure what my brain considers “acheivement” but I know that it’s not happy until it is satisfied with my acheive-ifying abilities. The dozens of years spent sweating in a dance studio, bent over a desk (or my kitchen table) taking notes or writing stories also programmed my brain to measure acheivement in several very distinct ways:

1. Achievement in dance. In order to be happy, I have to be performing, training, taking class and making progress in my chosen art. When other things get in the way of this, I tend to get grumpy, depressed and anxious. School is often the culprit, which brings me to . . .

2. Achievement in academics. After spending most of my formative years in homeschool, I was so eager to experience the adventure of the Texas public school system that I completed all of my ninth grade summer assignments by February of previous year. At my International/arts/semi-college preperatory school “summer assignments” consisted of everything from complex research papers about cultural diversity (Geography), to creative writing projects (English), to watching the original Star Wars trilogy* (Biology). I eventually learned how wonderful procrastination can be, but nevertheless my Type-A, Hermione Grangerish self sought All-As all the time. Aside from a disastrous year of Algebra II and my ambivalent attitude toward Chemistry, I acheived my goal and tied with 10 other people for the Top of the Class.

Since graduating high school I’ve grown and changed a lot as a person. I’ve renewed my relationship with Christ, grown to greatly value the place and role of the family and society and spent some time in the “Real World.” The result is that the things I’m supposed to care about as a 21st Century, college educated, ambitious and relatively intelligent woman, just don’t matter to me. I’ve spent some time temping for a major publishing corporation over the summer and while I thoroughly enjoy the people and like working there in two and three week spurts, the whole situation just drains me.

I have no interest in florescent lights and unlimited supply of bad coffee. Staring at a computer screen all day while completing tasks in which I’m not emotionally or intellectually invested is a prison sentence for me. There are perks, sure. A good salary, a pretty sweet bathroom and occasionally free business lunch. I’m missing the gene that is supposed to make me want a high-powered career like this. Every time I go to work, I think about how much I wish I were spending 8 hours a day in rehearsal rather than on the thirtieth floor of an cubicle-ridden building. I wish I could find satisfaction in it because people who work there do important things that need to be done, they have routine days and regular paychecks and health insurance. They contribute to society. I envy the people who work there and find fulfillment.

It’s great for temporary work, but after every assignment, I’m reminded why I dance, why I write, why I’d rather stay at home with my future kids and teach them than sit around long tables using corporate catch-phrases like “touch base” and “error out.” It’s a good thing to realize, but also pretty distressing. My future-husband is going to make a wonderful professor and nothing makes me happier than seeing him fulfiled and happy, but since I’m pretty set on not being the high-earning-power-woman, I feel like I’ve put a lot of pressure on him to be the breadwinner of the family. I don’t want him to have to sacrifice any of his dreams because of my selfishness. But that’s a blog-thought for another day. The point is that there are only two ways I can see myself ever making money:

1. Dancing

2. Writing

Of course, I’m pretty doubtful that many people will pay me to do these two things for extended periods of time, but I’ll never forgive myself for not trying with all of my weirdly overachieving braincells.

*My teacher was a big fan. This was also my least favorite Summer Assignment.

Disorganized and Disinteresting

Howdy Y’all! (Sorry. I hate Texan stereotypes, almost as much as I adore reinforcing them.)

Confession: I have a serious addiction to other people’s blogs. The fact that my Google Reader feed stayed relatively stagnant over the weekend due to some holiday celebrating the signing of some old piece of paper really depressed me. If only I were as addicted to my own blog as I am to the blogs of people I’ve never met (and/or met only on the internet).

So far my visit to Texas has been enjoyable. I finally feel like the wedding is actually happening soon which is both thrilling and weird and a little scary. My mom and sister took me shopping and spent way too much money on my wedding makeup, rehearsal dinner outfit, and a dress for the second part of the reception. You know, the part when I can’t stand having to wrestle the 1.4 million layers of tulle and crenoline that is my dress just to go to the restroom and decide to change into something more suitable for dancing, mid-August heat and port-a-potties. Oh yeah, there will be port-a-potties at our wedding. See, in true Keeler-and-Badger style, we chose a beautiful, gorgeous, perfect ceremony/reception venue– with no indoor plumbing. I promise it’s a classy barn with a classy bat infestation and classy port-a-potties.

After I acquired all of my extra wedding whatsits and such, my mom insisted that we all do a “test run” of our hair, makeup and dresses so on the fourth of July, before our celebratory annual viewing of the senior-citizen’s PBS Independence Day Special, Mom, Rachel (my sister/Maid of Honor/Made of Awesome) and I got all dolled up in our wedding gear. I practiced applying my overpriced department store counter makeup (with FREE GIFT) and Mom used her ninja hair dressing skills to make my otherwise un-exciting hair into a beautiful web of gorgeous. Did I mention that Mom also handmade my veil? She’s pretty awesome.

We all looked pretty great. I felt a little bit like a four year old playing dress-up in her mommy’s closet, but for a few minutes there, after pinning the silver tiara (aka Diadem of Ravenclaw) into my scalp with 76 bobby pins and before Mom pulled out her camera phone to take cheesy, pre-prom style pictures of Rachel and I in the living room, I actually felt bridal.

Earlier today, Rachel threw me a wedding shower in which I recieved a beautiful box full of old family recipes written on cards. These recipes are kind of a big deal in my family and very important to me, so it was really special. I also got to see a lot of old friends, drink earl grey tea out of china and eat adorable finger sandwiches and vegan cupcakes. In case you’re headed to a bridal shower anytime soon, please be aware that Target gift cards are apparently THE THING to give brides-to-be these days. I’m a pretty big fan of Target and exceedingly grateful for the cards, but I’m starting to think Target had a massive gift card giveaway I don’t know about . Or maybe they also give FREE GIFTS with purchase?

I’m enjoying another three days down here in the Lone Star State, drinking iced tea and counting the number of times I hear the phrase “bless her/his/your heart” every day. Oh, how I missed the South. See you when I’m back in yankee territory and can find something more interesting about which to write!

Hairbrush Wars and HIMYM

Since my last update, I’ve started about 452 blog posts and abandoned every one. Except the one about the monkey doing chin-ups on the subway. That I’m keeping up my sleeve until the world is ready to hear it.  Aside from the aforementioned primate-meets-elementary school gym class incident, the most exciting things that I have done in the past two weeks are as follows.

1) I got into an epic battle with my roller hairbrush. At least, I think it’s called a “roller hairbrush.” You know, one of those brushes that’s shaped like a cyllinder instead of a paddle? Anyway, it somehow ended up all tangled in my hair. Usually I’d just ask one of my roommates or my mother (if she were in close proximity) to help me pry the monster from my scalp, however I live all alone. It’s just me and the ghosts I sometimes imagine live on the fire escape. I know children read this blog, so I won’t go into any of the morbid details, but this wasn’t pretty. It was full on war. We both suffered numerous casualties– the brush lost many bristles at the point of my scissors, many of my hairs were torn out by the brush’s unyielding teeth. I was even forced to put a few sections of hair out of their misery and cut them off myself. Finally, after this long and tiring battle at 3am, I emerged ugly but victorious. I’m hoping no one will notice the uneven, slightly bald patch on the crown of my head.

2) I watched a TV show. Like, all four seasons of a TV show. In a week. This is huge for me because the last time I watched the entirety of a TV show, from its early years to its grand finale, it was during my “Boy Meets World” phase last summer. Before that I think it was either “The Dick Van Dyke Show” or “I Love Lucy”. It’s not that I have a problem with TV, I just have a problem with most of the things that are on TV. 99% of the time, I’m just not interested. Or I’m interested in the wrong shows. (Like many women alive during the early 21st century, I went through a brief, two month “Sex and the City” phase. I don’t like to talk about it.) Plus, I hate sitting still for too long and there are a great many things I’d rather do than stare at a TV screen. I know everyone hates that girl who’s always bragging that she doesn’t even own a TV, so come on and hate me. My computer screen works perfectly well if I feel the need to take an excursion into the lives of Rob and Laure Petrie or The Ricardos.

After much persuasion by my friends Leah and Quinn, I decided to give the sit-com “How I Met Your Mother” a try. It completely -changed my perception of what TV can and should be. Clever, poignant, well-written and brilliantly executed, this show grabbed a hold of me and wouldn’t let go until I’d finished all previously-aired seasons. During and after my HIMYM binge,  I found myself obsessing about the show the way I usually obsess about a particularly good book. Conventiently, I even took a trip to McGee’s pub– the bar upon which the show’s creators based the fictional MacLaren’s– this week to celebrate Quinn’s birthday. We all “suited up” and continued making HMYM references all evening.

If you haven’t seen thiis show yet, please do yourself a favor and give it a try. It’s legen . . . wait for it . . .I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because the next word is. . . DARY.

Lucky for me, the show was picked up for a fifth season. After watching 90 episodes in 8 days, waiting a week between episodes like the rest of the world is going to be torturous. I don’t know how to be a fan of a show currently on the air.  I feel so CURRENT.

In unrelated news, I’m flying to Texas tomorrow to hang out with my family, swim, eat tacos and attend my own bridal shower. I’m going to try to update from “down south” but if I don’t, I’ll see you when I return!