Truth, Lies, and the Best Song of the Eighties

"love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes

love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes"

Joking references to John Cusack holding the boombox over his head in "Say Anything" aside, I think this song by Peter Gabriel is the most eloquent, touching, and powerful love song ever written. To me, it encapsulates how we feel when we truly love someone, why we work so hard to find and keep that kind of love, and why it hurts so much when love ends (for whatever reason). It perfectly describes the deep-seated need in all of us to have one special person we can be vulnerable with, and who will let us in, let us "touch the light, the heat" we see in their eyes.

As I was listening to this song the other day, something occurred to me: I've been lying to myself. When I decided I was ready to start dating again, I told myself that all I wanted was to meet people, go out, and have fun. I convinced myself that I didn't want anything more than that - after all, I've never really had a period in my life where I just "had fun" going out. I was always either in a relationship with someone, or alone. I told myself that I was completely okay with meeting someone, liking them, but just "dating" them with no intentions of moving in a more serious direction for who knew how long.

Well, I did meet someone, I did start to like them, and even though I knew it was nothing exclusive or serious, got hurt a little anyway when he turned out to be not who he said he was.

And then Peter Gabriel had to come along and slap me upside the head with his awesomeness. If I really didn't care, if in my heart of hearts I wasn't secretly wishing for the connection that is the "resolution to all the fruitless searches", then why was I upset when this guy dropped me like a hot potato to be with someone else? Hmmm... I guess I am just not wired to be one of those people who can "go out" with several different people at a time and not be serious about any of them. I'm not wired to "have fun" (okay that sounds bad, but if you've read this far without gagging yourself you get my meaning) but to want closeness, to want intimacy, to want exclusivity with someone. I finally understood that that is why, all my adult life, I've either been in a serious relationship or alone. For me, there's no in-between.

That's not to say that as soon as I meet someone, I'm picking out china patterns. Just that whenever I've dated someone I could usually tell early on if he was someone I wanted to get more serious about. And the ones I didn't feel that way towards, I stopped seeing, because in my mind what was the point of continuing?

So it feels good to stop trying to convince myself that I want something I really don't. And to not settle for less than I (and my children) deserve. Thanks for the unintended moment of clarity, Peter Gabriel. You rock, and you always will.

44 Things

44 ODD Things about you!
Learn 44 things about your friends, and let them learn 44 things about
you!

1. Do you like blue cheese? Love it
2. Have you ever been drunk? Yes
3. Do you own a gun? Duh, I'm from Texas - YES
4. What flavor of Kool Aid was your favorite? Never really liked Kool Aid
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? No
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Kind of gross and kind of good at the same time
7. Favorite Christmas movie? A Christmas Story
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee
9. Can you do push ups? Yes
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? My rings with Tyler & Sydney's birthstones in them
11. Favorite hobby? crochet
12. Do you have A.D.D.? Sometimes I think so
13. What's your favorite shoe? high heels, even though most of them hurt my feet; Converse All Star high tops are a close second
14. Middle name? Kathleen
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment? I've got to pick up the girls in 45 minutes; I wonder what movie is next on my Netflix list; can't wait to go to karate tonight
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Coffee, diet soda, any flavor Naked juice
17. Current worry? whether I'm being lied to/played
18. Current hate right now? guessing games
19. Krispy Kreme, Dunkin', or Timmy Ho's? Krispy Kreme all the way, baby!
20. How did you bring in the New Year? At my friend Gina's house playing board games and drinking wine
21. Where would you like to go? A better question is where wouldn't I?
22. Name three people who will complete this? no idea
23. Do you own slippers? no
24. What color shirt are you wearing right now? White
25. Do you like sleeping on Satin sheets? No - too slippery
26. Can you whistle? Yes
27. Favorite color? Yellow
28. Would you be a pirate? No - not a big fan of rotten teeth and scurvy
29. What songs do you sing in the shower? I don't
30. Favorite Girl's Name? Brynn
31. Favorite boy's name? Ethan
32. What's in your pocket right now? Nothing
33. Last thing that made you laugh? A comment from a friend on facebook.
34. Best bed sheets as a child? I don't remember my childhood besheets.
35. Worst injury you've ever had as a child? My neighbor stepped on my big toe and ripped the toenail off.
36. Do you love where you live? YES.
37. Revenge of the Nerds or Fast Times at Ridgemont High? Revenge of the Nerds
38. Who is your loudest friend? My SIL Terri :-)
39. How many dogs do you have? Zero
40. Does someone have a crush on you? I have no idea, but wish I knew if anyone did
41. What is your favorite book? Too many to choose from
42. What is your favorite candy? As long as it has chocolate and no coconut, I'm good.
43. Favorite Sports Team? Couldn't care less about sports.
44. What song do you want played at your funeral? Amazing Grace, Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go

Vampires in Sweden? Who knew?

Last night I was trying to decide between going to bed early and watching a movie, and settled on the movie. I'd stumbled across what looked like an unusual and potentially interesting one on Netflix - a Swedish horror film called "Let the Right One In." It was available to watch instantly, so I got my fuzzy robe on and settled in to give it a try. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Wow, she spends her Saturday nights in a fuzzy bathrobe, watching movies with subtitles? This chick has got it goin' ON! I have GOT to hang out with her!" Get in line.

I'm a sucker for a good scary movie. And I'm fascinated by legends and myths of fairies, werewolves, vampires, and other things that "go bump in the night". The problem is, these kinds of stories have been told so many times it's hard to find one with a truly fresh and original perspective. (If anyone sitting here reading this is thinking, "Um, what about 'Twilight'? - smack yourself in the head. Hard.) Anyway, the cover art of this Swedish movie promised me "A vampire tale like no other" and said it would be "mesmerizing". Sounded cool to me.

Here's the lowdown: 12-year-old Oskar is an outcast, bullied by his classmates, with no friends and no one who understands him. Enter Eli, the girl who moves in next door with an older man one is led to believe is her grandfather or some other such relative. Oskar and Eli slowly become friends, and she helps Oskar stand up to the kids making his life miserable. Oh, yeah...along the way he finds out she's a vampire who's responsible (directly and indirectly) for several murders in and around their small village.

The movie itself felt like almost all of the other foreign films I've seen: plenty of silences, punctuated only by panoramic stretches of bleak and depressing landscapes. Characters who do nothing but stare off into space for inordinately long periods of time with vacant expressions on their faces. Characters who wear horrifically mismatched clothes and look like they cut their hair with a weed whacker. Tiny, cramped kitchens filled with dishes and utensils so old and dingy you'd think anyone eating off them would wind up in the hospital on a ventilator. But I digress...

What surprised me about this movie wasn't the movie itself, but the reviews on Netflix posted by other people. One in particular stood out to me: "It's a touching story about loneliness and falling in love with someone who fills the hole in your heart. I was moved beyond my ability to articulate it into words."

When I finished the movie I went back to Netflix and re-read this review and some of the others that echoed its sentiments. After I finished shaking my head in dumbfounded amazement, I checked myself in the mirror for a second head or something. Because "love story" was NOT what I took away from this movie AT ALL. I wondered if I was the only one who saw it differently - if maybe my overly-developed sense of cynicism had finally gotten the better of me.

When I looked at Eli, I didn't see a sweet, innocent "girl" who is merely lonely and looking for a friend who will accept her for who and what she is. I saw a manipulator and a user. By the end of the movie it becomes clear that the older man she lives with has been with her for a long, LONG time - perhaps since he was Oskar's age. He sacrifices himself to feed her hunger, and she watches him plummet to his death without the slightest trace of emotion on her face. I viewed her growing "friendship" with Oskar as nothing more than a screening process - a way for her to figure out if he would be a suitable replacement for the man who, up until he almost got caught, had taken care of her and done all her dirty work. Eli's encouraging Oskar to stand up to the bullies at his school seemed like "priming the pump" of his latent violent tendencies. She would need Oskar to find and dispatch victims for her, just as the old man had before him. Why should she risk getting caught when she can manipulate someone else into committing murder for her? The one and only time she gets upset at someone's death is when she's forced to do the deed herself because the old man screwed up.

I was completely floored that the reviewers chose to overlook the obvious signs of sociopathy and narcissism in these characters. If people think "Let The Right One In" is a love story, then I sure would like to know what their definition of a dysfunctional relationship is!

Though the more important question probably is, why did I spend all this time blogging about an obscure, mediocre foreign film that no one else I know will probably ever see? I guess I'm just cool like that.

Cool Recipe

Here's a great recipe that my mom found in a newspaper article and sent to me. It combines two of my favorite food-related things: it's super-easy, and it's at least peripherally Greek. I hate to cook, so the easy part hooked me right away. And I'll eat anything that sounds like it comes from within 100 miles of the Mediterranean. It's got a touch of tanginess (thanks to some lemon juice and goat cheese) and the chickpeas give the texture some variety. It literally took me about ten minutes to make, and 8 of that was boiling the orzo. If you've never heard of orzo, it's not rice - it's a form of pasta made from wheat (sorry to my gluten-free friends, I haven't quite been able to make myself jump on the bandwagon yet) and you can find it in the spaghetti aisle. Though be warned - I had to look hard to find it. Anyway, here's the recipe; give it a try sometime for a nice change of pace and a cheap, easy side dish:

1.5 cups uncooked orzo

1/4 cup olive oil

3 tablespoons lemon juice

1 clove garlic, minced

15 oz can chickpeas, drained

2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano

Salt and pepper to taste

5 oz log goat cheese, crumbled

Bring a large saucepan of lightly salted water to a boil. Add orzo and cook, stirring occasionally, until just tender (about 8 minutes). Drain the orzo and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, and garlic. Add the chickpeas, orzo, and oregano. Toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Gently stir in the goat cheese. *Can be served warm or at room temperature.

Outed by a Baby Elephant

I'm a total sap. For some of you this may come as a surprise, but the people reading this who know me well are probably thinking, "Well, DUH!" I cry at movies, TV shows, and even sometimes a commercial if it's cute and the time of the month is right.

So while Disney on Ice was great, and the girls had a wonderful time, there was a part of me that felt disappointed when my favorite Disney character did not make an appearance.

I wanted to see Dumbo, darn it!

I think Dumbo is just about the sweetest movie I've ever seen. And I knew instantly why I loved it so much. The two main figures in Dumbo's life, his mother and his little mouse friend, loved him instantly and unconditionally. Mrs. Jumbo didn't care a whit how big his ears were, she just recognized him for the gift from God that he was and accepted him just the way he came to her. And as a child who was mercilessly teased when I was younger, I've gotta love the way she put those snotty older elephants in their place when they made fun of her son. To me, she typifies God's love for us, His people. We come into the world misshapen, broken, and deformed by sin, and He chooses to love us anyway. He loves us no matter what we look like, what our talents or abilities are, and no matter what other people say or think. There's just about no more touching scene in the history of film than when Mrs. Jumbo gathers Dumbo against her trunk, gently rocks him, and sings, "Baby of Mine." It makes me cry. Every. Single. Time.

And the mouse (whose name escapes me right now - haven't had enough coffee, I guess. I think it might be Timothy, so I'll go with that.) offers Dumbo friendship with no expectations of anything in return. He gives support, encouragement, and company when no one else wanted anything to do with him. Now THAT'S my definition of a true friend.

In contrast to that, I'm reminded of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, a story I've always disliked, even when I was little. The song gives it away: "THEN how the reindeer loved him..." The other reindeer only started being nice to Rudolph after he did something for them, after he made their life more convenient in some way. I never understood why other kids and adults seemed to love that song so much. I guess my cynicism was born at a truly early age! I never liked any of those "other reindeer" because even at 5 years old, I knew their friendship wasn't genuine. As soon as Rudolph stopped being useful, I thought they'd all drop him like a hot potato.

But not Timothy. Dumbo was of no use to him whatsoever. Indeed, he was probably a hindrance if Timothy had been concerned about "getting along" with everyone else. That's the only kind of friend worth having, in my book.

I'm glad that Disney never made a "Dumbo II". (Or if they have, that I've never heard of it.) I think that would ruin the tenderness and wonder of this deceptively simple story.

I wonder if I can get "Baby of Mine" on my iPod? *Sniff, sniff...*

Wading Back Into the Dating Pool

It feels strange to be writing about dating again. Not bad-strange, just...well, strange-strange. After all, I haven't "dated" anyone other than Craig in twelve years. The prospect is exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. But I'm ready to give it a go.

The one major source of trepidation I'd been feeling lately regarding dating had to do with how Tyler and Sydney would take it. I'd been searching for a way to talk to them about it for a few weeks now, when an opportunity presented itself just the other night. We were driving home from karate and Tyler started asking me all kinds of questions about past boyfriends I've had. So I slipped the question in as casually as I could: "Hey girls, how would you feel about me going out on dates?" and held my breath. Because in spite of my desire to meet someone new, I'd already decided that if my doing so would cause either one of them pain, I would hold off. To my surprise (and great relief) they were all for it. Tyler even said, "I think it's a great idea!"

So now I find myself back out there, filled with all the same questions and concerns as lots of other single women my age: Where do I meet a quality man? Is it acceptable for a woman to make the first move if she meets a man she's attracted to? Why do there seem to be tons of great single women at my church, but barely enough single men to fill a Toyota Prius? Does this mean I have to start wearing makeup to the grocery store again? Is it really true that all the good men are already taken? (I have to believe the answer to that last question is no; otherwise I might as well bang my head repeatedly against the nearest brick wall.)

While it would be nice to meet someone face-to-face, in the real world, I'm giving the internet a try as well. Because I'm not naive enough to think that dating in the real world works out like it does in the movies, where a girl "just happens" to meet a fantastic guy through no effort on her part and the two of them fall madly in love, move to a rent-controlled loft in Soho and buy a puppy. And internet dating has exploded so much in recent years that I have to believe there's at least one guy online at any given time who isn't a total loser, just like I'm not a total loser. (I do have my brick wall handy, though.)

I'm so glad I don't feel that silent, creeping sense of desperation I did in my early twenties - that I had to have a man in order to feel complete. God has filled that hole in my life quite nicely. So this time around I feel much more relaxed about the whole thing. I'm not in any hurry to get married again, though I would love to if the Lord chooses to bless me in that way. For right now, I'm content with meeting new people, getting to know them, and really taking the time to decide whether someone is Mr. Right, or merely Mr. Right Now.

Diary of a Crappy Mom

So we were driving home from church today (church, mind you, where I just spent an hour and a half singing praises to God and listening to His word) and Sydney all of a sudden just started crying in the backseat. I braced myself - or thought I did, anyway - because I knew what was coming.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

What followed was a tearful litany of how some boy in her Sunday school class pushed her, and a girl cut in line in front of her, and Tyler pushed her out of the way at the water fountain when she was thirsty and on and on and on and on. An updated version of her "everybody be's mean to me" speech.

So what did I, the understanding and ever-patient mother do? Did I offer words of comfort and understanding, pull the car over and give her a big "mommy-loves-you" hug? No.

I lost it. Totally.

This will probably sound like an excuse, but I need to give some background here. This kind of reaction is not a result of what happened to her father. She's been doing things like this ever since she could talk. I don't know why, but Sydney has always misinterpreted things that other kids do and say. She assumes every accident is a personal attack. She assumes that everyone hates her. She takes the slightest little incident and blows it up into monumental proportions - I've personally witnessed at least a dozen of these little "situations". This frustrates me to no end, because when EVERYTHING is horrible, and EVERYBODY is mean, it's hard to sort out the real bullies from the kids who are just standing there scratching their heads wondering, "What did I do?"

When I've asked her in the past what kids did to her that was so mean, all I usually get is, "I don't remember." That, and a daughter with major attitude for a good three hours. I've found it impossible to get to the bottom of what's really going on, or why she feels like everyone is ganging up on her.

Fast forward to today...when I heard her start to complain about "everyone be's mean to me" yet again, something snapped inside of me. We're driving down Powers and I proceed to lecture her (yell at her?) - a SIX-YEAR-OLD, mind you - with helpful little gems like this:

"You've got to stop assuming that the entire world is out to get you, because it just isn't true!"

"Do you want to have friends? Because if you do, you've got to stop treating other kids like they're always mean to you."

"What about your friends Liza and Mia? Are they 'mean to you'? No..."

And my personal favorite: "So what if that boy knocked into you on purpose? Maybe it's his problem - maybe he's just a jerk. Why can't you just get over it?"

Of course, when we got home I took her aside and apologized to her, but that still doesn't make my behavior okay. Last time I looked in the mirror, I was the one with the gray hairs, not Sydney. That would make me the adult. Chronologically speaking, anyway.

Some days I feel stretched so thin that I can barely keep my head together enough to get them ready for school and their lunches made. So when along comes crap like this, I just don't know where to put it. Or what to do. Nothing I've ever said to her changes her mind. No encouragement, no pep talk, nothing. It feels like she is bound and determined to believe that everyone on the planet hates her guts, and I am at a complete and total loss. Do I wait until she "grows out of it" as it's been suggested to me that she will? I don't know if my sanity will hold out that long.

I wish I knew the source of her behavior, but she's been like this since forever. Please God don't tell me that this is an inborn trait, a part of her personality that will never grow or change. She's a sweet girl at heart, very generous and empathetic (more so even than Tyler, I think) and I want to see her grow up to have lots of good friends and happy experiences. I hate to see her lock herself away in a cage like this.

Ugh...hopefully there will be no "Diary of a Crappy Mom, Volume II"...