Watching Chick Flicks and REALITY

So this past semester has had a lot of homework, and so I haven't had any time to watch movies. I can name all the movies that I have sat completely through. King Arthur, Pocahauntas, and most recently, tonight, Bride and Prejudice.


I would like to point out that romance in movies isn't real life. Because the media influences our thoughts and processes, many people think of romance, relationships, and marriage like the way that actors portray it, which is the way they are asked to portray it by the script & the writers, which is influenced by who knows what.
Outtakes show us that people are acting, that they make mistakes, and that they sometimes have a bit of a hard time trying to act out something  If people acted like this in real life, there wouldn't be any outtakes because it would come naturally to them. They wouldn't need a script. 
Reality has something called free will, and with that free will, people live independently from the stereotypes. 
Unfortunately, the media has a deeper grip than we can loosen just by reading these words. It is a harsh truth. To live counter cultural, one almost has to reject the idea of romance. 


But how can we reject romance? I have a hard time with that. I like our culture's characteristics for "dating and relationships". I would love to receive flowers, and be asked on a date where we dress up like we're visiting our grandparent's church, and we sit at a table, order nice food, and drink nice drinks late into the night, learning about each other. I would love to spend time with someone, dancing the night away, or walking beside a river, or shopping at the mall, taking silly pictures together. 

"Silly Picture"

These ideas come from somewhere. Somewhere along the way, I was told that to have a fun, romantic relationship was to do these things. Maybe it was the novels I read, maybe it was the movies I watched, but either way, I felt like I was taught that someday I would be married, and the world would "LIVE HAPPILY FREAKING AFTER." Who freaking painted that picture? As I continue to look at the world around me and watch people as they build relationships, get engaged, get married, start a family, I see that they also have other things that are building momentum in their lives: finish high school, go to college, graduate, go to grad school, get a good job. Or also, rent an apartment, live independently, buy a house. Or, plant a garden, raise chickens, get a cow, go buy a barn. These are other things that we can do with our lives. Each of us has a different path. Marriage may or may not be a part of it, and if it is, that's great. If it's not, then that's great too! 

Because of society's interpretation of romance, I had high expectations for relationships. They had to work out. There had to be a certain amount of effort put into the relationship to label it as a "relationship." I think a lot of people put expectations into their relationships. But because we all have free will, how could any of these expectations be met as we expected, unless someone was following the script written by the expecter. There's also the agony of things like "breaking up" or expressing that you aren't in love or whatever. There's almost some stigma for telling how you really feel, because there's so much of an expectation (see, there it is again) that you should be in love, and if you aren't in love, you should get in love. I think communication is so much more important. Be frank, dangit. I'm not sure how I feel about you. If a guy said that to me, props to him.

Since I was a little girl, I always thought that marriage was the epic step that I was going to take. Once I found my "true Love" the fire was going to be lit, and my life was never going to be the same. The veil would (literally) be lifted to my whole new world. Because I wanted this idea of marriage so bad, I was ready to look into the eyes of anyone who swore they loved me and think that I was going to be with them forever. To say that this semester has been one of epic change might be an understatement, because I went from, "I found the one--we're getting engaged soon! Wait until you meet him!" to, "He never really was in love with me, and it's over," and that really redrew the entire thought of true love for me. 

Or the idea of romance.  One can be romantic, one can be a friend, one can be a lover. Does one have to be in love to have true love? What is true love? Is true love that kind of love that you fall into? (because if it is, then I've fallen into true love a couple times.) If true love is that type of love, then what does it mean to fall in love? What does it mean be in a relationship? All these things are defined by the society around me, so how do I make them my own?

Right now, I'm "married" to two other women. I lived with them for the first half of the semester, and now, and soon, we will be starting our long distance relationship. Though this is a joke; I am not, in fact, a bisexual polygamist, it is what I need right now. They are my closest friends, and I hold to them, laugh with them, cry with them (sometimes after laughing), and we care for each other. We are all growing alike. We all carry our passion on our sleeve. Spending time with these girls, eating, snuggling, laughing, talking, coloring, I have grown so much in myself, and what I need to "be".

So What is love? 

(baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more)

Love is what lifts us up where we belong. 

"Love it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
There is a design, an alignment, a cry
Of my heart to see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be"

--Mumford and Sons, "Sigh No More"

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 ⁸ Love never fails."
1 Corinthians 13: 4-8a

So what love is, who love is with, in reality, in relationships, sometimes love hurts. Sometimes those who love you do hurt you, but they still love you. Sometimes true love means letting go and moving on. Maybe true love happens many times in a life time, and you can fall into true love with many people at the same time. Maybe that's how God feels about us. 

Today is TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS day

Today I represent hope beauty for those who look in the mirror and feel hate toward their entire person so much so that they hurt themselves.
I,We, She, He, They, We desire love so much that we think we can only earn it, and only from other people. Love is not earned. Love is given, love is a gift. Love is unconditional, so no matter what you look like, that means the love is equal. Love is equal rights. Love is so blind that people who look different, love different are LOVED.
We receive love from others, this is true. This love can only temporarily sustain us. This love can seem absent when our lovers are absent. We need to love ourselves. This is a love that is sustained through our lives. We maintain self-love by resting, by exercising, by emotionalizing. Taking time to be spiritual, thoughtful, and seeking balance is a way to pursue self-love. Taking care of yourself is loving yourself.
Our creator is heaven also loves us, with more unconditional mercy than we think we deserve. Where other people's love is finitely sustained, Holy Spirit's love is infinite, and keeps on giving.
When we finally love ourselves, and stop criticizing the "imperfections" that society tries to load upon us, we see the beauty that echos from our lips each time we can be real with other people. We express our confidence, subtly or loud and proud, and not care what other people think. Then we let our beauty blind people.
Overcoming anything is a struggle. Lack of self-love makes one have no drive to do anything; it makes life slavery. The idea of writing LOVE on her arms is to overcome Self-hate with self-love. Even though the people who are writing LOVE on their arms might not have had the struggles that people who cut themselves have, and they cannot provide the love that each person is searching for, they can support, they will support, and they will love.
I will Love like there is no tomorrow (will you?). There might not be, you know.

Beauty in Song

I find that one of the ways that I can show my own beauty is through singing and through writing music. When I got a chance to play "light the silence" for this year's Take Back the Night chapel and coffeehouse, I felt blessed to express inspiration for those who needed it.

I was also blessed by a fellow student, with an invitation to join one of the bands on campus. It turned out to be very beneficial and fun for me, and we have had two performances--one for chapel, and one for Dialogue On Race and Diversity Worship Night. I got to play three of my own songs at the beginning of this event as well.

This beauty thing is for me, but it's not for me as well. Although I would say that within music, my beauty is blooming for others to see, I wouldn't say that it is something that I am unconfident in. And although I need growth in the area, as sometime in the future I will be able to record and have a CD or my music, and there is a lot of work in that, I know that this project and idea is not all about me. Although everyone needs certain levels of empowerment, I know I'm one that needs less in comparison to others.

So with that disclaimer, the truth in all of this is that I WANT to empower others to embrace their own beauty in individuality, in confidence. Part of this is recreating beauty. Knowing that I am an individual makes it impossible for me to redefine beauty by myself. Beauty is different in every person. Where some people are confident in clothes and in things they have to say, others carry their beauty in their art work, in their food justice. Others carry their beauty in their beautiful unwashed hair. Beauty is confidence. Beauty is laughing so hard you cry (or snort).

As we recreate beauty, what makes you your beautiful self? What's striking and individual about you that you see about yourself and makes you overflow with love for whatever you love?

Here's "reclaiming beauty"

It's just genetics
Combinations of chemicals
That create who we see
This makes me unique
No one else
Carries elements like me

Then somewhere I lost me
Under masks I wear
Wanting to please Society
We've molded ourselves
To their blueprint for beauty

I want to bring back beauty
Like birds singing
Like leaves tinged by sunset sky
I want to see individuality
Confidence overflowing
I want acceptance for who I am
Even with "said" imperfections
I was created woman
Don't underestimate me
This is real beauty

It's just genetics
Combinations of chemicals that create
Who you see
This makes you unique
No one else
Carries elements like you

Then somewhere you lost you

Under masks you wear

Wanting to please Society

We've molded ourselves

To their blueprint for beauty

Women made into mannequins by this media

Plastic-coated shiny perfect

Covered in makeup

Just sexy and helpless

How could we call this 

beauty??

What is strength, depth, intelligence

Aren't we perseverance, endurance

Confidence over fashion sense
Individuality--it is beauty.

Making the Statement

So most of you don't have an idea of what I've been doing this semester as far as housing goes--I've been "living" with my grandparents and spending a "couple nights a week" in Maplewood, with my roommates Bekah and Meg. We decided, after my project projection, and Bekah's suggested suggestion that we should represent beauty at it's different levels. One would represent the beauty the world love, one would represent the beauty that is biblical, and one would represent inner beauty. Although I said that I would represent Worldly Beauty, Bekah insisted that I represent Inner Beauty, as that is part of my project, and that she represent Worldly beauty.
We were dressing up for the EMU Fall Festival, which was at Parkwoods Cabin, and we started Saturday after lunch. Bekah and I were making bread, and so we went shopping for pans, stopped at my sister's house for some clothing (for our costumes), and then while we were making the bread, we worked on Bekah's hair. I straightened it, Amy did her nails, and Jamila did her toes. We searched high and low for a mini skirt for Bekah to wear, and finally decided on one from Anna on the third floor, and my teal shiny top. We borrowed earrings from Katherine, and then Bekah had to shave her legs, borrowing stuff from Crystal. Then we had to do makeup. When Bekah was done, we walked up to Jamila's room and got name tags. It took a long time to get Bekah ready, while we were doing this, I kept feeling like we were hiding who she was and making her look like every other girl in Harrisonburg going to a bar. We made her like everyone else--not unique and almost boring.
Meg wore her Tivas, a djellaba, a black scarf over her hair, and made an 'X' over her mouth, to represent that women are to be silent, women are to have their head covered, and women are to avoid showing off their bodies. She even wore jeans, although we looked up that women weren't supposed to wear men's clothing, it looked better, and when she thought about rolling up her jeans so that we couldn't see them, she said, "but my legs are hairy."
I said, "But I love you the way you are."
And so was the battle of this beauty. To represent the Worldly beauty, we had to cover up the Bekah that we all love. We took time to hide and take away 'imperfections' and made her stare at herself in a mirror, challenged to make her lips look more pouty by wearing lipgloss, to scrutinize about her eyebrows long enough to need to pluck some hairs, and to notice some unruly hairs that weren't straight. So much time was taken, to cover her up.
With Meg, it wasn't that we were covering her up. We were physically covering her up, but she could still be Meg until the 'X' was put over her lips. Because of the media we used (liquid eyeliner) she couldn't smile for fear that it would crack, and so it inhibited her from being who she really was. When we were being silly, she couldn't laugh along, or she couldn't smile while laughing.
both Bekah and Meg were costumed by physicality, and in doing so, also costumed their personalities.
All of this time, I was already in my costume. :)
Because I represented inner beauty, I was to represent myself, and I did so with great vigor. I wore a green and brown patterned dress with my pink jacket and teal scarf over it. Jamila half-cornrowed my hair, and then I braided it some more, as that is one of the things that I think is most beautiful about myself--that I can braid my hair and wearing it braided. As a finishing touch, I wore my bunny slippers, which have been making their debut for the past week since I got back from Fall Break.
So then, we went with a Pirate, a Native American, and Cleopatra herself to the Fall Festival.
We definitely got good reactions. People had to ask what we were, so we explained ourselves. Though people could see what we had done to decorate ourselves, they had no idea of the process that it took to get there, the emotional weariness that each of us carried--me for watching Bekah disappear and Meg become inhibited, and also the time it took to reach that point.
There was a costume contest, and The "Worldly Beauties (OH CODY!)" and Cleopatra won (Jamila looked FREAKING awesome, and even cut her hair for the role). Bekah and I carved pumpkins, both of them saying something--mine said, "In Her Beauty" and Bekah's said, "A Sad Story Be." I think we were both feeling our costumes.
We all learned great things about this project, and as I continue to write about my experimence with expressing inner beauty, there will be reflections of this experiment/statement.

Suicide=Beauty Destroyed

I saw a post on Facebook a couple of days ago that really made me feel. In my high school's hometown, a freshman had committed suicide. A girl who was fourteen years old hung herself. I cannot take the emotion. Where were her friends? Why couldn't she share with them what was going on inside? Where were the adults in her life to mentor her and love her? Where was God in this?

All I could see when I went to the Memorial group that was created for her as she Rests In Peace, was such a beautiful girl. Why could she not see it? Was she too focused on what other people would say to her to get that she was beautiful in the way that she carried herself, in the way that she was unique to this planet?

Why does it seem like high school is the place that makes us all conform to this heart breaking lifestyle of beauty? Why do girls wake up every morning and spend an hour grooming, and more time later, just so they look good, just so that they can get the second glance, or look like the photoshopped girl in the magazine. Why do girls have to starve themselves to feel like they are thin enough to be dated by those high school boys whose hormones and environmental shaping only make them think that the skinnier the better, the bigger breasts the better, the bigger, shinier hair the better?

Why don't girls make themselves displays of their hearts instead, displays of who they are in their innermost thoughts, letting their fears, and vulnerabilities slip away. Why can't we tell the world that what we see that is different inside is a blessing not a curse? It took, and continues to take time--years--for me to accept myself, and I didn't even have it the worst.

Suicide is a permanent end to a temporary problem. What we see as imperfections now isn't, but we don't bloom to see it until it's too late, we've already made the decision to let go and screw the world. People who try to commit suicide and then choose not to at the end have a long way to go, but they will reach happiness with who they are what they have.

God, may you give this beauty's family peace in this time as they struggle to find it. Hold them all close to you. May we as your people, not be blind to those with pain, and be able to serve them as they need us. Let it be so.

Feminism and BeautyinGrace

Grace and Katherine, the beautiful feminists

Why feminism?

On Monday, I was sitting in Common Grounds with two couch-fulls of lovely ladies, and my friend Katherine, already declared, asked me if I was a feminist, and Mila also shared her tastefulness in the topic.

I gave quite the hesitation--I'm scared of stigma--then said, "Well, maybe."

Given looks of astonishment, I gave in, "Okay, yes, I am! I just don't like the stigma."

I then went on later to say, "You know, I think my dad is a feminist," because he's always been all about my sisters and I taking on whatever came our way.

The funny part is that I went on declaring it for the rest of the day, to anyone who I spoke to about political issues, or just in conversation with Bekah and Meg, later in the day.

Feminism and Beauty:

I think it's important to establish the connection between feminism and beauty. Feminism, with one of the ideas being to give women their rights, also asks for the right of women to define their own beauty. Thus, it is very important for me to define myself as a feminist. I declare that women's beauty is unique, not what oppressive media (and some men) make it to be, and that it doesn't need someone else to say anything for it to be beautiful. If the wind blows in the forest, but no one hears it, did it move through the forest?

Of course. Part of women being beautiful is that almost nothing needs to be said. Beauty exists in the existence of feminism, in the ideals, the attitudes, the confidence, and all of these aspects are beauty. Someone could be blind and deaf and still be completely beautiful, though no one would ever clarify it for them, as long as they believed it, it would be true. 

This comes to my own unique beauty. It's very important that I declare myself to be a feminist (partially because people already assumed it was so), and also because it declares that I am more radical than the beauty that society tries to claim of me. 

Today was a day to do gracebeauty, not societybeauty. So Grace brightened her eyes, braided her hair in a circle, and wore bunny slippers to class, even though it rained. 

Goal today: go run, because it makes me feel so much better than a compliment from a guy telling me that I'm completely beautiful. Running brings out a confidence of capable dreams, and endurance and possibilities. What's great is that today I also chose to wear sweats and a sports bra. And get my picture taken for the Shen (school yearbook). I care about my unique beauty that much. People who get that yearbook will remember me as the girl with the interesting slippers, the runner, the braided hair and the bright eyes.