Archive for the ‘Rants in a Minor Key’ Category

Overdosed on Jane Austen and Moulin Rouge

22 September 2006

It’s not a standard disclaimer, but it is a disclaimer of sorts.

The odd combination of watching two versions of Pride & Prejudice and Moulin Rouge in a twenty-four hour period put me into a very introspective sort of mood.  Not quite melancholy, but definitely a bit pensive. 

There is, of course, more to it than just too much time watching movies.  A few months ago I started worrying about a kitten rescued years earlier.  The cat found a home with my ex just before he left me.  It really bugged me not knowing what happened to it, so I decided to ask.

This was a HUGE step for me.  This is my infamous ex.  Everyone has one.  He (or she) is the one who broke you heart, cheated on you, left you for someone else, or some other variant on the theme.  He’s the guy your friends hate out of loyalty to you.  He’s the one who neatly packed a few suitcases of emotional baggage and handed them to you on your way out the door.  THE EX.

I figured it’s been well over half a decade, it’s time to let go of some of that hate and move on with life.  So, I sent an email.  Short, simple, cordial even.  And I got a reply.  Short and simple with a hint of friendly.  The cat is fine and happy in a good home. 

This took away years of wondering what had happened to the poor thing.  I’m glad it has a home.  

But it didn’t really take away the years of hating and hurting.  He was the one who first broke my heart.  Add that to the themes of Jane Austen and Baz Luhrmann and I’m contemplating the nature of love.

I used to believe in it.  Like countless other naive young girls, Love was everything.  It was sweet.  It was pure.  It was ideal and simple.  It was divine perfection.  It’s not true.  But buried deep in my bitter heart, there’s still a little girl who longs for it. 

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

There’s such a profound truth there.  We forget how to love, how to be loved.  And maybe some of us never quite find the way back.  How do you find the way back?  How do you find that ideal you longed for before the world, or an ex, taught you not to?  How do you learn to love?  And perhaps more importantly, how do you learn to let someone love you?

I don’t have the definitive answer.  I don’t know that anyone does.  Maybe part of it is letting go of the hate and hurt of past wounds.  Maybe part of it is looking at the ex and seeing a person instead of THE EX.  The only thing I can do is try and see how it goes.

And in the meantime, I’ll hide my Jane Austen and Moulin Rouge.  

Spring and Missionaries

19 March 2006

It’s almost spring.  Frost is a thing of the past.  Buds are beginning to open on the trees and daffodils and tulips have sprouted and proudly show the season’s first blooms.  The whole world seems to shrug off winter and rejoice in the rebirth of spring. 

Including the odd overly-friendly people that canvas my neighborhood with invitations to their super fun church that’s “just down the street, you see, there’s a map on the back of that card there.”

No thanks.  I rarely comply with people who accost me on the street for any purpose even if they believe themselves to be acting on behalf of my immortal soul.  My soul’s doing well enough and while I appreciate your need to feel you’ve made the world a better place by filling your church’s pews for Easter…I’m not interested.

And while you may feel the strange need to pray incessantly for this little soul showing a few too many pagan tendencies, do me a favor and consider this…You cannot make my peace with any church for me or anyone else.  It’s a path we each must find and follow on our own. 

Let me enjoy the spring and spare me the curbside arguments and sermons. 

Hand over the voodoo doll

6 February 2006

Two weeks ago, it was a simple cold.  It decided to become a sinus infection.  No problem, not a big deal.  A trip to the doctor and an antibiotic later, I’m feeling much better.

All is well.  For a week anyway.  That’s when my body catches on to the presence of the antibiotic and protests.  For whatever twisted reason, it decides not to like the medication anymore because allergic reactions are so much more fun.

Sigh.  A trip to the e.r. and an injection later, I’m well enough to go home.  After a few days of the really good antihistamines, which I have to admit were a bit fun to be on, I’m feeling better.

That would be the cue to step on a piece of glass.  More annoyance, than actual injury.  But it does make me think that’s enough.  Whoever has it, it’s time to hand over the voodoo doll.