From Anne of Green Gables:
ANNE: I've become too practical for romance. Like Marilla, I shall probably end up an old maid. Miss Barry, I didn't mean that.
AUNT JOSEPHINE: It isn't all bad. A married woman could never be as cantankerous as I am free to be. But it's not a circumstance I'd recommend for you. Make a little room in your plans again for romance, Anne-girl. All the degrees and scholarships in the world can't make up for the lack of it.
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Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Spinsters in Televison: The Bachelor/Bachelorette Series
Today we present the third in a series of featured entries entitled "Spinsters in the Media: Who Gets It Right?"
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature, and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the television series The Bachelor and its sister series (or is that a bit incestuous?) The Bachelorette.
I'm not really a fan of so-called "Reality TV." A few shows in that category--The Amazing Race, Project Runway, and, recently, The Voice--have intrigued me with their talented contestants or entertaining hosts. But most of the bug-eating, rose-giving, back-stabbing, on-camera-confessing antics seem to me pretty far removed from both entertainment and reality.
And thanks to the media blitz, you don't have to even watch these shows to know what's going on. This season of The Bachelorette has especially been fodder for check-out aisle headlines. Apparently, putting 25 strangers in the same house together, challenging them to duke it out for the affections of one person, and capturing it all on camera for the world to see doesn't bring out the best in people.
So you may find it surprising that I find a kernel of singlehood truth in these shows. Well, sometimes even "Reality TV" goes off script.
At the end of one season of The Bachelorette, contestant Jen Schefft, after carefully narrowing down her pool of bachelors, actually turned down both finalists and walked away single.
Time magazine columnist Anita Hamilton described the fan outrage that followed this unconventional decision and also what she found refreshing about the situation:
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature, and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the television series The Bachelor and its sister series (or is that a bit incestuous?) The Bachelorette.
I'm not really a fan of so-called "Reality TV." A few shows in that category--The Amazing Race, Project Runway, and, recently, The Voice--have intrigued me with their talented contestants or entertaining hosts. But most of the bug-eating, rose-giving, back-stabbing, on-camera-confessing antics seem to me pretty far removed from both entertainment and reality.
And thanks to the media blitz, you don't have to even watch these shows to know what's going on. This season of The Bachelorette has especially been fodder for check-out aisle headlines. Apparently, putting 25 strangers in the same house together, challenging them to duke it out for the affections of one person, and capturing it all on camera for the world to see doesn't bring out the best in people.
So you may find it surprising that I find a kernel of singlehood truth in these shows. Well, sometimes even "Reality TV" goes off script.
At the end of one season of The Bachelorette, contestant Jen Schefft, after carefully narrowing down her pool of bachelors, actually turned down both finalists and walked away single.
Time magazine columnist Anita Hamilton described the fan outrage that followed this unconventional decision and also what she found refreshing about the situation:
[W]atching Jen apologetically admit that none of the men on the show were right for her was strangely liberating. She reminded me that as much as the legions of single women like me want to find a mate, you can't force it. In a way, Jen did us a favor by demonstrating that single gals aren't all a bunch of Bridget Joneses, desperate for love. By showing us that Mr. Wrongs are a dime a dozen, reality TV for once felt real.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
To Buy or Not to Buy?
I must be one of the few 36-year-old women in America who doesn't own a picnic basket. Make no mistake: this is not because I am picnic-adverse. This is because I am unmarried.
Think about it: how do most American households become blessed with a picnic basket? It's a classic wedding present. Newly-married couples receive them from Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Mimsey along with a few handwritten family recipes. It's a treasured wedding tradition.
It's also highly practical, I have discovered. Before every church potluck, family gathering or holiday party, I find myself hunting through my stash of boxes for the right-sized container to transport my famous Chocolate-and-Heath-Bar Cheesecake. All the while, I'm muttering, "I swear I'm going to buy a picnic basket next week."
The fact that I haven't yet purchased a picnic basket is mainly due to procrastination (along with a tendency to forget about the need for it as soon as the potluck, gathering or party is over). However, there are some items, usually purchased or received by couples, that can place Still Singles in a bit more of a quandary.
Here's the dilemma: do Still Singles go ahead and buy all those typically couple things, or not?
Sure, a picnic basket is not that much of an emotional investment, but some singles really have difficulty in deciding to buy, say, a house on their own. For some, they worry about tying themselves down, and for others, they feel as though it would be "giving up" to go ahead and buy such things alone.
For me, the answer has been varied. Here's the tally as it stands thus far:
YES:
NO:
Other thoughts, my fellow singletons? What purchases have you struggled with or embraced fully?
As for me, I'll be adding a picnic basket in the YES column soon.
If I don't forget again.
__________
Think about it: how do most American households become blessed with a picnic basket? It's a classic wedding present. Newly-married couples receive them from Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Mimsey along with a few handwritten family recipes. It's a treasured wedding tradition.
It's also highly practical, I have discovered. Before every church potluck, family gathering or holiday party, I find myself hunting through my stash of boxes for the right-sized container to transport my famous Chocolate-and-Heath-Bar Cheesecake. All the while, I'm muttering, "I swear I'm going to buy a picnic basket next week."
The fact that I haven't yet purchased a picnic basket is mainly due to procrastination (along with a tendency to forget about the need for it as soon as the potluck, gathering or party is over). However, there are some items, usually purchased or received by couples, that can place Still Singles in a bit more of a quandary.
Here's the dilemma: do Still Singles go ahead and buy all those typically couple things, or not?
Sure, a picnic basket is not that much of an emotional investment, but some singles really have difficulty in deciding to buy, say, a house on their own. For some, they worry about tying themselves down, and for others, they feel as though it would be "giving up" to go ahead and buy such things alone.
For me, the answer has been varied. Here's the tally as it stands thus far:
YES:
- a queen-sized bed--to upgrade from what my friend Bobbi calls "the virginal single bed." Let me say, it took NO time at all for me to get used to all that space. Also, an excuse to buy all new sheets and bedding. Love it!
- a set of nice dishes--not china, but not mismatched hand-me-downs either. Purchased in order to host my first family Thanksgiving in my first little rental house. They are pretty girly (pink flowers!), but I figured that was just fine for now.
NO:
- a house--but I'm definitely getting the urge more, watching HGTV and dreaming of painting my walls some color other than what I believe Dutch Boy calls "Rental Apartment Off-White." Still, a house has always seemed like such a BIG purchase and one that I'm not sure I'm ready to make on my own. Other singles have, and I applaud them for it.
- a full-sized Christmas tree--definitely an emotional one for me. That just feels so much like a buying-our-first-Christmas-tree-together kind of thing. I don't want to miss out on that one. So I stick with my little four-foot tree. Besides, the story of how I bought that tree is priceless and always makes me laugh when I think of it. (Remind me to tell you that one sometime.)
- vacations--probably a safety issue just as much, but I do have a few special places in mind for trips with my husband. Some are revisits---places I love that I'd love to show him---and others we can explore together for the first time.
Other thoughts, my fellow singletons? What purchases have you struggled with or embraced fully?
As for me, I'll be adding a picnic basket in the YES column soon.
If I don't forget again.
__________
Monday, May 16, 2011
Quotable Quotes #2
A little gem I found as I was reading through a stack of old Reader's Digests:
Elayne Boosler:
--quoted in Reader's Digest, September 2005
Elayne Boosler:
"I've never been married, but I tell people I'm divorced so they won't think something's wrong with me."
--quoted in Reader's Digest, September 2005
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Monday, May 9, 2011
Sometimes a Man is Just a Man
One of the most frustrating and embarrassing side effects of being a Still Single is that I can't even mention a guy in an anecdote without my family or friends pouncing upon the idea of him as a potential mate.
While I'm relating a funny incident at church or a maddening issue at work, my friends or family members will suddenly turn the focus of the entire conversation to my lack of a love life. I could be telling a story about shopping with a co-worker at Walmart and returning to my car only to discover that a homeless man had broken into it and was currently sleeping in the backseat and who, upon arrival of a police officer, insisted that this was really his car and we were the ones trying to break into it and claimed the window was broken because "the aliens like it that way" and that it had been that way for years, in spite of the fresh glass shards on the driver's seat, which, he said, were diamonds. And my loved one's response would be, "So. . .was the police officer cute?"
Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!
The really embarrassing thing is when this conversation takes place where a third party could overhear it. I'm terrified that the third party will think that I'm as desperate to get married as my loved ones are desperate to get me married off. Can't a guy just be a guy? Can't I have a guy friend, acquaintance, co-worker? I don't see every male who walks the planet as a possible husband; why do they?
I feel as though I should start every story with the guy's bio so they can see why he's not a potential soul mate:
"This guy at church--43, married, two kids--was telling me that he thought it might snow again this weekend."
"Joe who fixes my car--mid-70s, nice guy but a chain-smoker--says I'll need new tires before next winter."
"My new neighbor--late-20s, divorced, one son, smoker, drinker--came over the other night around 10:30 to borrow a plunger." (Sadly, that last one is not hypothetical.)
What exactly in my mention of these random men in my life makes my loved ones sit up and think, "Ding-ding-ding! Husband Material!"?
I find it all so embarrassing because it seems that my friends' and family's only criteria for a guy for me is that he's 1) Male and 2) Breathing. Really, that's all they know about the guy who's popped up in a story I'm telling.
Shouldn't I be a bit pickier than that?
Shouldn't I have higher standards for the man I'm going to marry? Didn't married people look for more in a potential spouse when they got married? (Gracious, I hope so!)
The attitude seems to be that I'm like a carton of milk that's way past its Best-Used-By date. Or that I'm the last kid to be picked for elementary PE softball teams, and I should just be grateful to be picked by somebody.
But here's the thing: I don't have to play softball. That's one of the truly lovely things about being an adult: no longer am I forced to participate in team sports for its character-building benefits or to uncover my (deeply) hidden athletic potential.
I don't have to take whoever will have me. I can wait until a guy comes along who would make a really great teammate. A guy whose selection means something.
I am choosing to be patient, and my friends and family will just have to be patient, too. And someday there will be a guy who doesn't just pop up in my stories but has a starring role.
----------
While I'm relating a funny incident at church or a maddening issue at work, my friends or family members will suddenly turn the focus of the entire conversation to my lack of a love life. I could be telling a story about shopping with a co-worker at Walmart and returning to my car only to discover that a homeless man had broken into it and was currently sleeping in the backseat and who, upon arrival of a police officer, insisted that this was really his car and we were the ones trying to break into it and claimed the window was broken because "the aliens like it that way" and that it had been that way for years, in spite of the fresh glass shards on the driver's seat, which, he said, were diamonds. And my loved one's response would be, "So. . .was the police officer cute?"
Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!
The really embarrassing thing is when this conversation takes place where a third party could overhear it. I'm terrified that the third party will think that I'm as desperate to get married as my loved ones are desperate to get me married off. Can't a guy just be a guy? Can't I have a guy friend, acquaintance, co-worker? I don't see every male who walks the planet as a possible husband; why do they?
I feel as though I should start every story with the guy's bio so they can see why he's not a potential soul mate:
"This guy at church--43, married, two kids--was telling me that he thought it might snow again this weekend."
"Joe who fixes my car--mid-70s, nice guy but a chain-smoker--says I'll need new tires before next winter."
"My new neighbor--late-20s, divorced, one son, smoker, drinker--came over the other night around 10:30 to borrow a plunger." (Sadly, that last one is not hypothetical.)
What exactly in my mention of these random men in my life makes my loved ones sit up and think, "Ding-ding-ding! Husband Material!"?
I find it all so embarrassing because it seems that my friends' and family's only criteria for a guy for me is that he's 1) Male and 2) Breathing. Really, that's all they know about the guy who's popped up in a story I'm telling.
Shouldn't I be a bit pickier than that?
Shouldn't I have higher standards for the man I'm going to marry? Didn't married people look for more in a potential spouse when they got married? (Gracious, I hope so!)
The attitude seems to be that I'm like a carton of milk that's way past its Best-Used-By date. Or that I'm the last kid to be picked for elementary PE softball teams, and I should just be grateful to be picked by somebody.
But here's the thing: I don't have to play softball. That's one of the truly lovely things about being an adult: no longer am I forced to participate in team sports for its character-building benefits or to uncover my (deeply) hidden athletic potential.
I don't have to take whoever will have me. I can wait until a guy comes along who would make a really great teammate. A guy whose selection means something.
I am choosing to be patient, and my friends and family will just have to be patient, too. And someday there will be a guy who doesn't just pop up in my stories but has a starring role.
----------
Monday, May 2, 2011
Friendly Fire
Today we turn over the keyboard to a guest author. In an article first published on MSN.com, Emmy-nominated television writer Michael Kramer addresses an issue commonly faced by singletons: dealing with our well-intentioned loved ones who just want to help. . . by figuring out what's wrong with us and fixing it.
What’s so bad about being single?
By Michael Kramer
“You know what your problem is?”
Who doesn’t love a conversation that starts like that? But if you’re over 35 and single, people somehow think it’s an open invitation to diagnose why you’re still single. “You don’t have room in your life for a woman.” “You’re too picky.” “You’re not picky enough.” (Sadly, I’ve dated a few women who have elicited that response from my friends.) The very term “singles” practically sounds like a disease (oh, wait, that’s “shingles”), and for those diagnosing us, being single seems to be our defining characteristic.
As the last of my peer group to remain single, I’ve noticed that friends, colleagues, family members, even shop owners, are quick to diagnose me. I bought new eyeglasses recently and the salesman asked my female friend whether we were a couple.
“No, we’re just friends,” she said.
“Good,” he said, “because based on how long it takes him to decide on a pair of glasses, if you’re waiting for a proposal, you’re gonna wait forever.” As if choosing eyewear were somehow related to choosing a spouse.
Is there something wrong with being single?
But comments like these, repeated over and over through the years, made me start to doubt myself. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I did have the dreaded singles disease. After all, people never give flattering reasons for why you’re still single. The diagnosis is never, “You’re too good-looking” or “If only you were less smart.” It’s always something negative. “You don’t know what you want in a woman.” “You’re looking for a woman who doesn’t exist.” If everybody’s saying these things, after a while you start thinking maybe they’re right.
It got to the point where even I started to wonder why I was still single. So I decided to put my fate in the hands of my happily married friends, Andy and Lisa. (Names have been changed to protect the guilty.) I agreed to let them set me up.
Andy and Lisa wanted to double date, so the four of us went to dinner. It turns out that the woman they set me up with had started a new job that day, and she joked — three times, so I sensed it was more than a joke — that she’s just not cut out for work, and she really just wants to marry a rich guy. That’s a nice thing to hear on a first date, because that’s exactly what guys are looking for in a woman. It’s the equivalent of a man telling a first date that he’s considering quitting his job to devote more time to chewing tobacco.
Then poker came up in conversation, and my date said she loves to gamble, but she’s having a bad year. “How so?” I asked. She said she’s down $19,000. Nineteen. Thousand. Dollars! I thought, Wow, so you don’t want to work AND you’ve got a gambling problem? You’re quite the catch.
After the date, Andy pulled me aside and excitedly asked, “So… what do you think?” Not wanting to be insulting, I said I thought she was nice, but not quite my type. To which Andy replied, “You know what your problem is? You don’t want to be happy.”
Now, wait a minute! I may not know myself perfectly, but I do know that an unambitious gambler is not my road to happiness. And that’s when I came to my senses and realized that the so-called “experts” who were diagnosing me didn’t know any more than I did. Being single isn’t a disease, yet so many married people think they’re Jonas Salk with the miracle cure. But with over 50 percent of marriages ending in divorce, maybe single people should be diagnosing married people.
What single people need to remember
The fact is, we all go through life on our own timetable. I know many people who found their true love a little later in life. It wasn’t because they were crazy or afraid to commit or told too many corny jokes on dates or any of that stuff. It was because they found their true love a little later in life.
I have a well-meaning cousin who, upon hearing I wasn’t dating anyone, sighed and said, “There’s gotta be somebody out there for you.” She used the exact same tone that Dr. Frankenstein would have used if he were lamenting that his monster was still single. I told her, “It’s not like I’ve never been loved!” But then I realized that I didn’t need to get defensive. I mean, even Frankenstein’s monster found his soul mate, and I’m not sure he even had a soul. I have to believe I’m a better catch than he is. Just imagine what people must have said about him before he found his lovely bride. But did he listen? No. Ol’ Frankie’s monster just kept trudging along, with the bolts in his neck and his flat head held high. And until the rest of us find our soul mate, so should we.
Michael Kramer is an Emmy-nominated television writer living in Los Angeles. He is single, looking and, he likes to think, "well-adjusted."
----------
What’s so bad about being single?
By Michael Kramer
“You know what your problem is?”
Who doesn’t love a conversation that starts like that? But if you’re over 35 and single, people somehow think it’s an open invitation to diagnose why you’re still single. “You don’t have room in your life for a woman.” “You’re too picky.” “You’re not picky enough.” (Sadly, I’ve dated a few women who have elicited that response from my friends.) The very term “singles” practically sounds like a disease (oh, wait, that’s “shingles”), and for those diagnosing us, being single seems to be our defining characteristic.
As the last of my peer group to remain single, I’ve noticed that friends, colleagues, family members, even shop owners, are quick to diagnose me. I bought new eyeglasses recently and the salesman asked my female friend whether we were a couple.
“No, we’re just friends,” she said.
“Good,” he said, “because based on how long it takes him to decide on a pair of glasses, if you’re waiting for a proposal, you’re gonna wait forever.” As if choosing eyewear were somehow related to choosing a spouse.
Is there something wrong with being single?
But comments like these, repeated over and over through the years, made me start to doubt myself. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I did have the dreaded singles disease. After all, people never give flattering reasons for why you’re still single. The diagnosis is never, “You’re too good-looking” or “If only you were less smart.” It’s always something negative. “You don’t know what you want in a woman.” “You’re looking for a woman who doesn’t exist.” If everybody’s saying these things, after a while you start thinking maybe they’re right.
It got to the point where even I started to wonder why I was still single. So I decided to put my fate in the hands of my happily married friends, Andy and Lisa. (Names have been changed to protect the guilty.) I agreed to let them set me up.
Andy and Lisa wanted to double date, so the four of us went to dinner. It turns out that the woman they set me up with had started a new job that day, and she joked — three times, so I sensed it was more than a joke — that she’s just not cut out for work, and she really just wants to marry a rich guy. That’s a nice thing to hear on a first date, because that’s exactly what guys are looking for in a woman. It’s the equivalent of a man telling a first date that he’s considering quitting his job to devote more time to chewing tobacco.
Then poker came up in conversation, and my date said she loves to gamble, but she’s having a bad year. “How so?” I asked. She said she’s down $19,000. Nineteen. Thousand. Dollars! I thought, Wow, so you don’t want to work AND you’ve got a gambling problem? You’re quite the catch.
After the date, Andy pulled me aside and excitedly asked, “So… what do you think?” Not wanting to be insulting, I said I thought she was nice, but not quite my type. To which Andy replied, “You know what your problem is? You don’t want to be happy.”
Now, wait a minute! I may not know myself perfectly, but I do know that an unambitious gambler is not my road to happiness. And that’s when I came to my senses and realized that the so-called “experts” who were diagnosing me didn’t know any more than I did. Being single isn’t a disease, yet so many married people think they’re Jonas Salk with the miracle cure. But with over 50 percent of marriages ending in divorce, maybe single people should be diagnosing married people.
What single people need to remember
The fact is, we all go through life on our own timetable. I know many people who found their true love a little later in life. It wasn’t because they were crazy or afraid to commit or told too many corny jokes on dates or any of that stuff. It was because they found their true love a little later in life.
I have a well-meaning cousin who, upon hearing I wasn’t dating anyone, sighed and said, “There’s gotta be somebody out there for you.” She used the exact same tone that Dr. Frankenstein would have used if he were lamenting that his monster was still single. I told her, “It’s not like I’ve never been loved!” But then I realized that I didn’t need to get defensive. I mean, even Frankenstein’s monster found his soul mate, and I’m not sure he even had a soul. I have to believe I’m a better catch than he is. Just imagine what people must have said about him before he found his lovely bride. But did he listen? No. Ol’ Frankie’s monster just kept trudging along, with the bolts in his neck and his flat head held high. And until the rest of us find our soul mate, so should we.
Michael Kramer is an Emmy-nominated television writer living in Los Angeles. He is single, looking and, he likes to think, "well-adjusted."
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The Single's Guide to Life: How to Hang a Picture
As promised in the first entry of this blog, here is the single's guide to addressing one of life's little annoyances.
One of the most annoying things I know about being single is the inability to be in two places at the same time. So when it comes time to do a little home decorating, there's no one to hand me tools or stand back and tell me if a picture is crooked. And who's got time to wait for someone to come over and help? Therefore, I've contrived--and successfully used--the following method.
Before we begin, I am sure there are much more technically accurate ways to do this. They probably involve fancy tools such as stud finders. (But, hey, if those worked, I wouldn't be hanging pictures alone! *insert rimshot here*) However, this method requires only items that can be easily found in most homes.
Gather the following tools:
a tall piece of furniture
several hardback books
nails
hammer
pencil
eraser
optional: level or level app on smartphone
digital camera or camera app on cell phone
cat treats, toys, or cage
1. Put a piece of sturdy furniture (a table, bookcase, dresser, cabinet, etc.) under the spot on the wall you've selected. The taller, the better, but make sure the item is not tall enough to cover your targeted area.
2. Remove cat from top of furniture.
3. Place the picture you are hanging on the top of the furniture.
4. Add stacks of hardback books, using the books to inch the picture up to where you think you'd like it. If you're not the bibliophile I am and don't have hundreds of books at your disposal, you might try DVDs, CDs, board games, soup cans, etc..
5. Step back and visualize the books and furniture gone---try the ol' close-one-eye-and-cover-the-object-with-your-thumb trick. Is the picture where you want it? Adjust the stack as needed.
6. When you've got it where you want it, trace the top and sides of the frame lightly with a pencil.
7. Remove the picture from the stack.
8. Wait 5 seconds.
9. Remove the cat from the stack.
10. Measure the distance from the top and sides of the frame to the place that the nails will catch---the inside edge of the frame, the hooks, etc.
11. Measure that same distance from the pencil lines on the wall, and draw light marks where the nails should go. If the hooks aren't exactly centered, remember to reverse left and right as needed (i.e., you measured seven inches from the left side while looking at the back of the picture; now measure seven inches from the right side while looking at the front of the wall).
12. Pound in your nails on the marks.
13. Test-hang the picture. Step back and check it. Repeat steps 3 through 13 as needed.
14. Once satisfied, erase the pencil marks, and hang your picture for real.
15. Remove the cat from the stack of books, return the books and furniture to their rightful places, and reward self (and cat?) for a job well done.
Additional tips:
---Use a level to make sure picture is hanging correctly. Alternately, use an app on your smartphone (such as Bubble for Android smartphones). Caution: Before using this method, it is best to decide, should things go badly, which object you will save as it falls: the picture or the smartphone. It's the Sophie's Choice of wall hangings.
---If you can't decide between two different positions for the picture, set up each option with the stacks of books, and snap a digital photo. This lets you consider both options quickly and without pausing to reset the books.
---If you find yourself repeating steps 2 and 9 too frequently, distract the cat with kitty treats or a favorite toy. Or temporarily lock him in his traveling cage or carrier. His plaintive cries are really his feline encouragement of your home decorating endeavors.
----------
One of the most annoying things I know about being single is the inability to be in two places at the same time. So when it comes time to do a little home decorating, there's no one to hand me tools or stand back and tell me if a picture is crooked. And who's got time to wait for someone to come over and help? Therefore, I've contrived--and successfully used--the following method.
Before we begin, I am sure there are much more technically accurate ways to do this. They probably involve fancy tools such as stud finders. (But, hey, if those worked, I wouldn't be hanging pictures alone! *insert rimshot here*) However, this method requires only items that can be easily found in most homes.
Gather the following tools:
a tall piece of furniture
several hardback books
nails
hammer
pencil
eraser
optional: level or level app on smartphone
digital camera or camera app on cell phone
cat treats, toys, or cage
1. Put a piece of sturdy furniture (a table, bookcase, dresser, cabinet, etc.) under the spot on the wall you've selected. The taller, the better, but make sure the item is not tall enough to cover your targeted area.
2. Remove cat from top of furniture.
3. Place the picture you are hanging on the top of the furniture.
4. Add stacks of hardback books, using the books to inch the picture up to where you think you'd like it. If you're not the bibliophile I am and don't have hundreds of books at your disposal, you might try DVDs, CDs, board games, soup cans, etc..
5. Step back and visualize the books and furniture gone---try the ol' close-one-eye-and-cover-the-object-with-your-thumb trick. Is the picture where you want it? Adjust the stack as needed.
6. When you've got it where you want it, trace the top and sides of the frame lightly with a pencil.
7. Remove the picture from the stack.
8. Wait 5 seconds.
9. Remove the cat from the stack.
10. Measure the distance from the top and sides of the frame to the place that the nails will catch---the inside edge of the frame, the hooks, etc.
11. Measure that same distance from the pencil lines on the wall, and draw light marks where the nails should go. If the hooks aren't exactly centered, remember to reverse left and right as needed (i.e., you measured seven inches from the left side while looking at the back of the picture; now measure seven inches from the right side while looking at the front of the wall).
12. Pound in your nails on the marks.
13. Test-hang the picture. Step back and check it. Repeat steps 3 through 13 as needed.
14. Once satisfied, erase the pencil marks, and hang your picture for real.
15. Remove the cat from the stack of books, return the books and furniture to their rightful places, and reward self (and cat?) for a job well done.
Additional tips:
---Use a level to make sure picture is hanging correctly. Alternately, use an app on your smartphone (such as Bubble for Android smartphones). Caution: Before using this method, it is best to decide, should things go badly, which object you will save as it falls: the picture or the smartphone. It's the Sophie's Choice of wall hangings.
---If you can't decide between two different positions for the picture, set up each option with the stacks of books, and snap a digital photo. This lets you consider both options quickly and without pausing to reset the books.
---If you find yourself repeating steps 2 and 9 too frequently, distract the cat with kitty treats or a favorite toy. Or temporarily lock him in his traveling cage or carrier. His plaintive cries are really his feline encouragement of your home decorating endeavors.
----------
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Spinsters in Film: Bridget Jones's Diary
Today we present the second in a series of featured entries entitled "Spinsters in the Media: Who Gets It Right?"
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the film Bridget Jones's Diary.
The title character Bridget Jones is the classic single heroine: a thirty-something career woman struggling to find success at work as well as in love. Bridget's world includes her mother who tries to fix her up with available men and offers helpful dating advice ("You'll never get a boyfriend if you look like you wandered out of Auschwitz."), a pack of single friends who have no more answers than Bridget does, and a smattering of relatives and married friends who helpfully pester Bridget about her lack of a love life.
Also, of course, are the potential love interests. Bridget has two: the caddish Daniel Cleaver who just happens to be Bridget's boss, and the prickly and slightly mysterious Mark Darcy.
Throughout the year, Bridget makes tons of mistakes, puts herself into many embarrassing situations, and endears herself to her readers/viewers. We love Bridget in spite of her many mistakes. Or perhaps because of them. She makes us feel better about our own mistakes, for surely none of our lives are as messed up as Bridget's.
There are several moments in Bridget's life that resonate with me, but here are two in particular.
First, the dinner party. Bridget is invited to a dinner party with a crowd of "smug married couples." As soon as Bridget arrives, the helpful pestering begins: "How's your love life?" "You really ought to hurry up . . . time's a-running out. Tick tock." and, finally, "Why is it there are so many unmarried women in their 30s these days, Bridget?"
The entire room goes silent as everyone looks at Bridget, waiting for her answer.
Bridget tries to laugh it off: "I don't know. Suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales." No one gets the joke, and conversation awkwardly resumes.
As Bridget demonstrates, singles don't want to analyze why they are single, especially with a crowd of married people at a dinner party. How can that conversation possibly go well?
I once had an older, married neighbor who, on several occasions, asked me if I was married. When I repeatedly told her I wasn't, she always replied, "Oh, but you're so pretty!"
Um....thanks? Sorry?
She seemed to be saying that I must be really messed up in order to still be single in spite of the fact that I wasn't burdened with a third eye or something. Yeah, this isn't something I want to discuss with a random neighbor as I carry my trash down to the dumpster.
In fact, I'd rather not discuss it at all. Come on, world! You don't ask married people why they are married, do you? Or, as Bridget puts it in Fielding's novel, "Why can't married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask? We wouldn't rush up to them and roar, 'How's your marriage going? Still having sex?'" It's rude and none of your business. So please don't put singles in the position of defending their singleness.
The second moment in Bridget's life that speaks to me---and the one that makes me cheer her on---is when she decides that she's not going to settle.
When the cad Daniel returns to try to win Bridget back, he tells Bridget, "We belong together, Jones...If I can't make it with you, I can't make it with anyone."
Bridget ponders this for a while, and then tells Daniel, "That's not a good enough offer for me. I'm not willing to gamble my whole life on someone who's, well, not quite sure. It's like you said: I'm still looking for something more extraordinary than that."
Good for you, Miss Jones.
Unwilling to settle for Mr. May-Be-Right in the present, Bridget walks away to wait for Mr. Absolutely Right to arrive some day in the future.
As it turns out, she doesn't have to wait long. Misunderstandings are cleared up, people come to their senses, and soon, Bridget is happily in love with Mr. Mark Darcy. The one who never lied to her, who never tried to change her, and who told her he liked her "just as you are."
Now that's worth waiting for.
----------
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the film Bridget Jones's Diary.
The title character Bridget Jones is the classic single heroine: a thirty-something career woman struggling to find success at work as well as in love. Bridget's world includes her mother who tries to fix her up with available men and offers helpful dating advice ("You'll never get a boyfriend if you look like you wandered out of Auschwitz."), a pack of single friends who have no more answers than Bridget does, and a smattering of relatives and married friends who helpfully pester Bridget about her lack of a love life.
Also, of course, are the potential love interests. Bridget has two: the caddish Daniel Cleaver who just happens to be Bridget's boss, and the prickly and slightly mysterious Mark Darcy.
By the way, this entry could just as easily have been called "Spinsters in Literature: Bridget Jones's Diary" because of the best-selling novel by Helen Fielding that was the basis for the film. However, the film has one distinct advantage over the book: Colin Firth. A big advantage.
Here is the Academy Award-winning actor as Mark Darcy, gazing at the woman he loves.
He does that so well. For more evidence, see this scene from the BBC's Pride and Prejudice.
Let's see. . . what was I talking about again?
Ah, yes! Bridget Jones. After a disastrous first meeting with Mark, embarrassed Bridget decides to make a change: "That was the moment. I suddenly realized that unless something changed soon, I was going to live a life where my major relationship was with a bottle of wine, and I'd finally die, fat and alone, and be found three weeks later, half-eaten by wild dogs." She launches her diary project, determined to truthfully record her adventures and efforts to take control of her life and find "a sensible boyfriend to go out with."
Throughout the year, Bridget makes tons of mistakes, puts herself into many embarrassing situations, and endears herself to her readers/viewers. We love Bridget in spite of her many mistakes. Or perhaps because of them. She makes us feel better about our own mistakes, for surely none of our lives are as messed up as Bridget's.
There are several moments in Bridget's life that resonate with me, but here are two in particular.
First, the dinner party. Bridget is invited to a dinner party with a crowd of "smug married couples." As soon as Bridget arrives, the helpful pestering begins: "How's your love life?" "You really ought to hurry up . . . time's a-running out. Tick tock." and, finally, "Why is it there are so many unmarried women in their 30s these days, Bridget?"
The entire room goes silent as everyone looks at Bridget, waiting for her answer.
Bridget tries to laugh it off: "I don't know. Suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales." No one gets the joke, and conversation awkwardly resumes.
As Bridget demonstrates, singles don't want to analyze why they are single, especially with a crowd of married people at a dinner party. How can that conversation possibly go well?
I once had an older, married neighbor who, on several occasions, asked me if I was married. When I repeatedly told her I wasn't, she always replied, "Oh, but you're so pretty!"
Um....thanks? Sorry?
She seemed to be saying that I must be really messed up in order to still be single in spite of the fact that I wasn't burdened with a third eye or something. Yeah, this isn't something I want to discuss with a random neighbor as I carry my trash down to the dumpster.
In fact, I'd rather not discuss it at all. Come on, world! You don't ask married people why they are married, do you? Or, as Bridget puts it in Fielding's novel, "Why can't married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask? We wouldn't rush up to them and roar, 'How's your marriage going? Still having sex?'" It's rude and none of your business. So please don't put singles in the position of defending their singleness.
The second moment in Bridget's life that speaks to me---and the one that makes me cheer her on---is when she decides that she's not going to settle.
When the cad Daniel returns to try to win Bridget back, he tells Bridget, "We belong together, Jones...If I can't make it with you, I can't make it with anyone."
Bridget ponders this for a while, and then tells Daniel, "That's not a good enough offer for me. I'm not willing to gamble my whole life on someone who's, well, not quite sure. It's like you said: I'm still looking for something more extraordinary than that."
Good for you, Miss Jones.
Unwilling to settle for Mr. May-Be-Right in the present, Bridget walks away to wait for Mr. Absolutely Right to arrive some day in the future.
As it turns out, she doesn't have to wait long. Misunderstandings are cleared up, people come to their senses, and soon, Bridget is happily in love with Mr. Mark Darcy. The one who never lied to her, who never tried to change her, and who told her he liked her "just as you are."
Now that's worth waiting for.
----------
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
It's Complicated
Marriage is easy.
Okay, I'm really not that naive. I know partnership between two people is always difficult. Marital challenges include, but are not limited to, raising children, handling finances, sharing household chores, getting along with each other's families, determining if the toilet seat shall remain up or down (apparently a big deal in multi-gendered households).
But "married" is such an easy status to have.
Consider the standard government-issue questionnaire. After asking for your name, birthdate, and Social Security Number, the form presents this question:
What is your current marital status? (Select one.)
Look at how many different ways there are to be "not married."
And while being married is a definitive state---you can't be "very married" or "mostly married"---being single is much more fluid. You can be "mostly single," meaning dating people casually but not in a relationship. And you can be "very single," which means not dating anyone seriously, not dating anyone period, not thinking about dating anyone, not even cognizant of someone in your world worth dating.
Facebook has expanded this common question, adding options such as "in a relationship," "in a domestic partnership," and "in an open relationship" (um...okay). My favorite is the quintessential Facebook relationship status: "It's complicated."
Even with only one set of emotions (and one preferred position of the toilet seat), inside the head and the heart of the single person, it's still complicated.
In my own head and heart, this complication most often arises when someone addresses the issue of my singlehood.
For example, at my younger brother's wedding---the occasion that officially dubbed me "the unmarried one" among my siblings---I was visiting with friends when one teased me, "How many times have you heard, 'You're next!'?" I shot back, "That's one!" and the group laughed and the conversation moved on.
Inside, however, my reaction was a bit more complicated.
That secret inward smile came from my realization that apparently people still thought it was okay to tease me about getting married. That apparently people still thought there was hope!
Maybe my pleasant surprise at this discovery is easier to understand in contrast to a changing trend I'd noticed in the questions I get from my students. Since I started teaching, I've always had students ask about my life, usually phrasing the question as "You're married, right?" They are confident of a positive response and surprised when I answer simply, "Nope. Not yet!" But in my early 30s, I'd noticed a change in the kids' responses. Instead of expressing simple surprise at my "not married" status, the questioner now often added an apology and chagrin. "Oh! Sorry!!" they'd say, as in "so sorry to have brought up such a painful subject!"
With that recent trend, I found the realization that my friends and family still saw marriage in my future as a pleasant discovery.
Still, my reaction to my singleness becoming a topic of conversation remains complicated. When friends try to set me up on blind dates, when family suggest I ask somebody out, when someone makes a reference to my future wedding, I experience a myriad of emotions. By turns, I am . . .
. . . pleased to find that I'm still "in the running" in people's minds.
. . . relieved that it's okay to still hope and to be known to hope.
. . . apprehensive that someone will think it ridiculous that I still hope.
. . . unsure if it's still okay for me to think of myself as a future bride.
. . . afraid that someone will assume I'm desperate to get married because my friends or family often are.
. . . conflicted between admitting that I do long to find "the one" and get married, and the absolute necessity of embracing my life as it is now and living it to the fullest.
Most likely, my emotions will always be complicated, even once I can check that definitive "Married" bubble and have begun participating in the Great Toilet Seat Debate. Even when I'm no longer single, I'll still be a woman. Complicated emotions come with the territory.
----------
Okay, I'm really not that naive. I know partnership between two people is always difficult. Marital challenges include, but are not limited to, raising children, handling finances, sharing household chores, getting along with each other's families, determining if the toilet seat shall remain up or down (apparently a big deal in multi-gendered households).
But "married" is such an easy status to have.
Consider the standard government-issue questionnaire. After asking for your name, birthdate, and Social Security Number, the form presents this question:
What is your current marital status? (Select one.)
Single
Married
Divorced
Separated
Widowed
Look at how many different ways there are to be "not married."
And while being married is a definitive state---you can't be "very married" or "mostly married"---being single is much more fluid. You can be "mostly single," meaning dating people casually but not in a relationship. And you can be "very single," which means not dating anyone seriously, not dating anyone period, not thinking about dating anyone, not even cognizant of someone in your world worth dating.
Facebook has expanded this common question, adding options such as "in a relationship," "in a domestic partnership," and "in an open relationship" (um...okay). My favorite is the quintessential Facebook relationship status: "It's complicated."
Even with only one set of emotions (and one preferred position of the toilet seat), inside the head and the heart of the single person, it's still complicated.
In my own head and heart, this complication most often arises when someone addresses the issue of my singlehood.
For example, at my younger brother's wedding---the occasion that officially dubbed me "the unmarried one" among my siblings---I was visiting with friends when one teased me, "How many times have you heard, 'You're next!'?" I shot back, "That's one!" and the group laughed and the conversation moved on.
Inside, however, my reaction was a bit more complicated.
- Annoyed, at being teased. In general, I hate being teased about anything.
- Embarrassed, that my love life (or lack thereof) was being discussed in public at all.
- Disappointed, because I expected a bit more sensitivity from this friend, a fellow singleton.
- And, secretly, a little bit pleased.
That secret inward smile came from my realization that apparently people still thought it was okay to tease me about getting married. That apparently people still thought there was hope!
Maybe my pleasant surprise at this discovery is easier to understand in contrast to a changing trend I'd noticed in the questions I get from my students. Since I started teaching, I've always had students ask about my life, usually phrasing the question as "You're married, right?" They are confident of a positive response and surprised when I answer simply, "Nope. Not yet!" But in my early 30s, I'd noticed a change in the kids' responses. Instead of expressing simple surprise at my "not married" status, the questioner now often added an apology and chagrin. "Oh! Sorry!!" they'd say, as in "so sorry to have brought up such a painful subject!"
With that recent trend, I found the realization that my friends and family still saw marriage in my future as a pleasant discovery.
Still, my reaction to my singleness becoming a topic of conversation remains complicated. When friends try to set me up on blind dates, when family suggest I ask somebody out, when someone makes a reference to my future wedding, I experience a myriad of emotions. By turns, I am . . .
. . . pleased to find that I'm still "in the running" in people's minds.
. . . relieved that it's okay to still hope and to be known to hope.
. . . apprehensive that someone will think it ridiculous that I still hope.
. . . unsure if it's still okay for me to think of myself as a future bride.
. . . afraid that someone will assume I'm desperate to get married because my friends or family often are.
. . . conflicted between admitting that I do long to find "the one" and get married, and the absolute necessity of embracing my life as it is now and living it to the fullest.
Most likely, my emotions will always be complicated, even once I can check that definitive "Married" bubble and have begun participating in the Great Toilet Seat Debate. Even when I'm no longer single, I'll still be a woman. Complicated emotions come with the territory.
----------
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Milestones
Last week we celebrated my older brother's 40th birthday. The event was marked with the solemnity and dignity befitting such a significant occasion: we played a Star Wars-themed "pin the tail on the donkey" and destroyed a pinata shaped like Darth Vader's head.
It brought to mind an article I read over a decade ago (and which I spent several fruitless hours this week trying to find either in my files or online) about life's milestones. The idea of the article was that, in our lives, there are certain ages by which we thought we would have accomplished something. Sometimes we aren't even aware of these unspoken deadlines, and they are different for every person. Once a milestone has passed without the desired accomplishment being accomplished, we experience dissatisfaction or restlessness at the least or even severe depression at the worst.
Obviously, a key milestone age in nearly everyone's life is the age by which you thought you'd be married. The article stated that most people have a preconceived idea of the "right" age for them to get married, and most people who pass this age unmarried find themselves struggling with some level of depression.
When I read the article years ago, I had not yet passed my marriage milestone age. Most people my age were pairing off and planning weddings, but marriage still seemed like something in the future for me. Moreover, I had only a vague idea of the "right" age for me to get married.
I knew I wanted to finish college and live on my own for a while. I wanted to begin my career before I began a marriage. I was determined not to be one of those girls who went to college for her MRS degree.
For a while when I was 18, I started telling people that I wasn't getting married until I was 30. This came in response to unrelenting teasing I got from adults who thought I should be as boy crazy as my best friend and other girls my age. To get them off my back, I would say I wasn't getting married until I was 30, and "Who wants to date a guy for twelve years, anyway?"
30 was never a serious marriage milestone for me, and by the time it rolled around, I was too busy living life to get too concerned about it. I had accomplished several milestones since I was 18. I finished college in the four years I'd allotted myself, meeting my goal of finishing my English Education degree before my full-ride scholarships ran out. I traveled with our college choir to New York City and sang in Carnegie Hall. I dated a few guys, fell in love for the first time, survived my first broken heart. At 22, I got my first teaching job and moved into my first little rental house. Those first few years of teaching were stinkin' hard and earned me my first grey hair just before my 25th birthday (darn 8th graders!).
The next fall I moved as far across the country as it's possible to go to the exotic coastal town of Bellingham, Washington. Well, exotic to a girl from Nebraska! The Cascade Mountains to the east, the San Juan Islands and the Pacific Ocean to the west, and all visible on my daily bus ride to work. I taught at Western Washington University for two years while earning my Master's degree in English literature. It was a great experience and I made many friends for life, but graduation weekend saw me packing up to move back to the Midwest, to family, and to the sun. (Contrary to popular belief, it does NOT rain constantly in Washington. The grey skies, however, are pretty constant.)
At 27 years old, I returned to high school teaching and really started to become the teacher I was meant to be. As I felt more confident in my career, I was beginning to think more of marriage and family, but I didn't feel as though my life were off-schedule just yet. It helped that I had an adorable new nephew, and his mom and dad let me "borrow" him whenever I needed some Josh Time.
Still, even though I wasn't feeling concerned, I thought I'd better prepare myself for turning 30. This, I thought, might be an unacknowledged milestone age for me, and it might be more difficult than I could predict. So, in the months leading to my birthday, I made 30 my friend. Example grammar sentences on the board: "Joe bought 30 cupcakes for Sally and ( I / me )." Warming up something in the microwave: 3-0-START. New e-mail password: "30rocks."
I don't know how much that all helped, but two months before my 30th birthday, something even better happened. I met two fabulous new coworkers and soon close friends who were also turning 30 that year. When we discovered that we would all hit "the big 3-0" within five months of each other, we squealed and gave high fives all around. From that moment on, 30 was an event to be anticipated, not dreaded. We had a blast that year, helping each other past that particular milestone.
Now, at 36, I'm still not exactly sure of my marriage milestone age. It might have been 35. I know when that birthday came around, I found myself thinking that this was certainly not what I'd assumed my 35th birthday would look like. I had pictured dressing up and going out to a fancy dinner with my husband. I'd pictured his gift: a nice piece of jewelry--a necklace or bracelet. You know, a grown-up present. :) The reality was still pretty good: dinner with my brothers and their families, a Railer football game, and--the highlight of the day--being serenaded by the entire Railer Marching Band.
If 35 was my marriage milestone age, I feel as though I got past it fairly unscathed. Sure, being single at 36 can, at times, make me restless or anxious, but it rarely makes me depressed.
I do suspect turning 40 will be a bigger challenge, especially if I feel as though my life hasn't progressed in any meaningful way since now or even longer ago than now. Not just in the marriage department, but in career goals and personal goals, too. What some people call their "bucket list," as in "stuff I'd like to do before I kick the bucket."
In the case of my brother, I have a hard time imagining that he had any difficulty in turning 40. From my viewpoint, his life looks pretty amazing. He's been married to his best friend for over 15 years, he has two adorable and brilliant sons, he's widely respected in his profession by parents, students, administration, and colleagues. Plus, he's just so darn cool! (biased little sister talking here) But I don't know what his milestones are. He may have other unmet goals and ambitions that make him restless or give him pause.
And we're never free from milestones. They pepper our lives: the age by which you thought you'd own your own home, have children, start your own business, travel the world, write the great American novel, have grandchildren, retire, start a garage band. The milestones keep coming, and, if you feel as though your life is off-schedule, the negative emotions can keep coming as well.
But only one of life's milestones comes with a tombstone. Until then, milestone moments can be times to refocus, revitalize, remove oneself from the couch and get to work. Grab that bucket list and get started!
And if I find at age 40 that I'm feeling the milestone crunch, I'll buy myself a nice piece of jewelry. Or a Darth Vader pinata.
----------
It brought to mind an article I read over a decade ago (and which I spent several fruitless hours this week trying to find either in my files or online) about life's milestones. The idea of the article was that, in our lives, there are certain ages by which we thought we would have accomplished something. Sometimes we aren't even aware of these unspoken deadlines, and they are different for every person. Once a milestone has passed without the desired accomplishment being accomplished, we experience dissatisfaction or restlessness at the least or even severe depression at the worst.
Obviously, a key milestone age in nearly everyone's life is the age by which you thought you'd be married. The article stated that most people have a preconceived idea of the "right" age for them to get married, and most people who pass this age unmarried find themselves struggling with some level of depression.
When I read the article years ago, I had not yet passed my marriage milestone age. Most people my age were pairing off and planning weddings, but marriage still seemed like something in the future for me. Moreover, I had only a vague idea of the "right" age for me to get married.
I knew I wanted to finish college and live on my own for a while. I wanted to begin my career before I began a marriage. I was determined not to be one of those girls who went to college for her MRS degree.
For a while when I was 18, I started telling people that I wasn't getting married until I was 30. This came in response to unrelenting teasing I got from adults who thought I should be as boy crazy as my best friend and other girls my age. To get them off my back, I would say I wasn't getting married until I was 30, and "Who wants to date a guy for twelve years, anyway?"
30 was never a serious marriage milestone for me, and by the time it rolled around, I was too busy living life to get too concerned about it. I had accomplished several milestones since I was 18. I finished college in the four years I'd allotted myself, meeting my goal of finishing my English Education degree before my full-ride scholarships ran out. I traveled with our college choir to New York City and sang in Carnegie Hall. I dated a few guys, fell in love for the first time, survived my first broken heart. At 22, I got my first teaching job and moved into my first little rental house. Those first few years of teaching were stinkin' hard and earned me my first grey hair just before my 25th birthday (darn 8th graders!).
The next fall I moved as far across the country as it's possible to go to the exotic coastal town of Bellingham, Washington. Well, exotic to a girl from Nebraska! The Cascade Mountains to the east, the San Juan Islands and the Pacific Ocean to the west, and all visible on my daily bus ride to work. I taught at Western Washington University for two years while earning my Master's degree in English literature. It was a great experience and I made many friends for life, but graduation weekend saw me packing up to move back to the Midwest, to family, and to the sun. (Contrary to popular belief, it does NOT rain constantly in Washington. The grey skies, however, are pretty constant.)
At 27 years old, I returned to high school teaching and really started to become the teacher I was meant to be. As I felt more confident in my career, I was beginning to think more of marriage and family, but I didn't feel as though my life were off-schedule just yet. It helped that I had an adorable new nephew, and his mom and dad let me "borrow" him whenever I needed some Josh Time.
Still, even though I wasn't feeling concerned, I thought I'd better prepare myself for turning 30. This, I thought, might be an unacknowledged milestone age for me, and it might be more difficult than I could predict. So, in the months leading to my birthday, I made 30 my friend. Example grammar sentences on the board: "Joe bought 30 cupcakes for Sally and ( I / me )." Warming up something in the microwave: 3-0-START. New e-mail password: "30rocks."
I don't know how much that all helped, but two months before my 30th birthday, something even better happened. I met two fabulous new coworkers and soon close friends who were also turning 30 that year. When we discovered that we would all hit "the big 3-0" within five months of each other, we squealed and gave high fives all around. From that moment on, 30 was an event to be anticipated, not dreaded. We had a blast that year, helping each other past that particular milestone.
Now, at 36, I'm still not exactly sure of my marriage milestone age. It might have been 35. I know when that birthday came around, I found myself thinking that this was certainly not what I'd assumed my 35th birthday would look like. I had pictured dressing up and going out to a fancy dinner with my husband. I'd pictured his gift: a nice piece of jewelry--a necklace or bracelet. You know, a grown-up present. :) The reality was still pretty good: dinner with my brothers and their families, a Railer football game, and--the highlight of the day--being serenaded by the entire Railer Marching Band.
If 35 was my marriage milestone age, I feel as though I got past it fairly unscathed. Sure, being single at 36 can, at times, make me restless or anxious, but it rarely makes me depressed.
I do suspect turning 40 will be a bigger challenge, especially if I feel as though my life hasn't progressed in any meaningful way since now or even longer ago than now. Not just in the marriage department, but in career goals and personal goals, too. What some people call their "bucket list," as in "stuff I'd like to do before I kick the bucket."
In the case of my brother, I have a hard time imagining that he had any difficulty in turning 40. From my viewpoint, his life looks pretty amazing. He's been married to his best friend for over 15 years, he has two adorable and brilliant sons, he's widely respected in his profession by parents, students, administration, and colleagues. Plus, he's just so darn cool! (biased little sister talking here) But I don't know what his milestones are. He may have other unmet goals and ambitions that make him restless or give him pause.
And we're never free from milestones. They pepper our lives: the age by which you thought you'd own your own home, have children, start your own business, travel the world, write the great American novel, have grandchildren, retire, start a garage band. The milestones keep coming, and, if you feel as though your life is off-schedule, the negative emotions can keep coming as well.
But only one of life's milestones comes with a tombstone. Until then, milestone moments can be times to refocus, revitalize, remove oneself from the couch and get to work. Grab that bucket list and get started!
And if I find at age 40 that I'm feeling the milestone crunch, I'll buy myself a nice piece of jewelry. Or a Darth Vader pinata.
----------
Monday, March 28, 2011
Quotable Quotes #1
Today we feature a very special guest columnist. So special that he doesn't even know he's being featured. :)
I came across an article online with the delicate title "5 Reasons Being Single Sucks Even More Than You Thought" by Dan Seitz. Mr. Seitz has an edgier tone than is usually used on this blog (Buddy would call him "an angry elf"), but one passage made me laugh out loud (or LOL, as the kids say). I share it with you now:
I came across an article online with the delicate title "5 Reasons Being Single Sucks Even More Than You Thought" by Dan Seitz. Mr. Seitz has an edgier tone than is usually used on this blog (Buddy would call him "an angry elf"), but one passage made me laugh out loud (or LOL, as the kids say). I share it with you now:
"Time spent single is a lot like time spent in the bathroom. It's the most natural thing in the world, until you're there just a moment too long. But once you hit that point, there's no turning back. People start to wonder what's wrong with you. Gross images start popping into their heads. The next time they see you, you might smell a little funny to them. But hey, look on the bright side, at least nothing's actually wrong with you, right?"
See you next Monday!
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Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Spinsters in Television: Sex and the City
Today we present the first in a series of featured entries entitled "Spinsters in the Media: Who Gets It Right?"
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Take, for example, a recent episode of 30 Rock. Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) arrives at work one day, announcing to her coworkers that she is "giving up" the search for Mr. Right. To that end, she wears her hair pinned up haphazardly in a "chip clip," she sports a straight-from-the-'80s fanny pack, and she has adopted a cat and named it "Emily Dickinson."
Okay, full disclosure: I do have a cat. Actually, two cats. And, yes, they are named after literary personas. But I'm an English teacher; what else would you expect? As far as Liz's unique accessories go, I know many fabulous single women who would never be caught wearing either.
Therefore, it is refreshing to encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the HBO series Sex and the City.
For the most part, the lives of the four female leads in this television series have about as much in common with my life as a piece of Juicy Fruit has with an aardvark. In other words, not much. I've never spent a month's salary on a pair of shoes, and my clubbing days have been over since....well, my clubbing days never existed. My girlfriends and I definitely get together and discuss men, but the conversation never takes place over Cosmos and features a much wider range of topics than just our love lives.
However, there have been moments in the show that speak to me. (By the way, they speak to me through the careful censors of TBS. Couldn't handle the undiluted language and content of the series in its original form.) When Miranda struggles through her mother's funeral in part because it's one more of life's blows she has to handle alone. When Carrie stops in the middle of her fabulous life and confesses, "I'm lonely. I am. The loneliness is palpable."
And when Miranda is mistaken for a lesbian. Okay, now that has never happened to me. But Miranda's reaction to it has.
Here's the situation: At a baseball game, one of Miranda's colleagues from the law firm asks to set her up with someone. The someone, it turns out, is a woman. Miranda sets the record straight but enjoys the game and is on her way to making a new friend. Then her senior partner steps in and invites what he assumes is a couple to a dinner party. This time, determined to make partner at the firm, Miranda doesn't set the record straight and accepts the invitation.
As she explains to Carrie later, "They seem so relieved to have finally figured me out." No longer a mystery woman (is she married? dating? divorced? widowed? what's her story??), Miranda discovers her colleagues find it much easier to relate to her. She finally belongs in their coupled-off world.
I, too, have felt that my acquaintances sometimes struggle to place me in a category. I don't seem to have kids, though I can quote Despicable Me with the best of them. (Credit my cool nephews for keeping me in touch with the younger set.) I'm certainly old enough to have a husband and children, yet I never talk about them. Am I divorced? dating? widowed? married? What is my story??
Like Miranda, I don't know the solution (she eventually confesses all to her senior partner and returns to being a mystery woman). I vacillate between helping the world out (dropping tidbits of information about cooking for one, living alone, someday when I get married, etc.) and feeling that it's none of their business or that they would have figured it out if they were really interested.
Maybe that's not fair. How could they know? And I appreciate that most of my acquaintances aren't rude enough to come right out and ask me. That leads to an even more uncomfortable conversation.
I have no problem confessing the truth. I'm not ashamed of the truth. The lie would just keep the conversation going. (That in itself is probably not a great reason to get married--just to keep conversations going.)
Like Miranda, I sometimes struggle with the fact that the external world would find me easier to accept if I would just get married already and fit in with everyone else. (Also in itself not a great reason to get married.) But for the time being, I'll play the mystery woman.
And leave the world to figure me out.
And you, dear readers? What Sex and the City moments do you relate to, as a single present or a single past? Share them in the comments section below.
----------
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Take, for example, a recent episode of 30 Rock. Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) arrives at work one day, announcing to her coworkers that she is "giving up" the search for Mr. Right. To that end, she wears her hair pinned up haphazardly in a "chip clip," she sports a straight-from-the-'80s fanny pack, and she has adopted a cat and named it "Emily Dickinson."
Okay, full disclosure: I do have a cat. Actually, two cats. And, yes, they are named after literary personas. But I'm an English teacher; what else would you expect? As far as Liz's unique accessories go, I know many fabulous single women who would never be caught wearing either.
Therefore, it is refreshing to encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the HBO series Sex and the City.
For the most part, the lives of the four female leads in this television series have about as much in common with my life as a piece of Juicy Fruit has with an aardvark. In other words, not much. I've never spent a month's salary on a pair of shoes, and my clubbing days have been over since....well, my clubbing days never existed. My girlfriends and I definitely get together and discuss men, but the conversation never takes place over Cosmos and features a much wider range of topics than just our love lives.
However, there have been moments in the show that speak to me. (By the way, they speak to me through the careful censors of TBS. Couldn't handle the undiluted language and content of the series in its original form.) When Miranda struggles through her mother's funeral in part because it's one more of life's blows she has to handle alone. When Carrie stops in the middle of her fabulous life and confesses, "I'm lonely. I am. The loneliness is palpable."
And when Miranda is mistaken for a lesbian. Okay, now that has never happened to me. But Miranda's reaction to it has.
Here's the situation: At a baseball game, one of Miranda's colleagues from the law firm asks to set her up with someone. The someone, it turns out, is a woman. Miranda sets the record straight but enjoys the game and is on her way to making a new friend. Then her senior partner steps in and invites what he assumes is a couple to a dinner party. This time, determined to make partner at the firm, Miranda doesn't set the record straight and accepts the invitation.
As she explains to Carrie later, "They seem so relieved to have finally figured me out." No longer a mystery woman (is she married? dating? divorced? widowed? what's her story??), Miranda discovers her colleagues find it much easier to relate to her. She finally belongs in their coupled-off world.
I, too, have felt that my acquaintances sometimes struggle to place me in a category. I don't seem to have kids, though I can quote Despicable Me with the best of them. (Credit my cool nephews for keeping me in touch with the younger set.) I'm certainly old enough to have a husband and children, yet I never talk about them. Am I divorced? dating? widowed? married? What is my story??
Like Miranda, I don't know the solution (she eventually confesses all to her senior partner and returns to being a mystery woman). I vacillate between helping the world out (dropping tidbits of information about cooking for one, living alone, someday when I get married, etc.) and feeling that it's none of their business or that they would have figured it out if they were really interested.
Maybe that's not fair. How could they know? And I appreciate that most of my acquaintances aren't rude enough to come right out and ask me. That leads to an even more uncomfortable conversation.
Person: "Are you married?" (expecting to hear "yes" which then leads to a myriad of other questions: "What does your husband do?" "How long have you been married?" "How did you meet?" "Do you have children?" etc., etc.)Such a conversation-killer! Sometimes I'm tempted, like Miranda, to fabricate a more interesting story: "My husband? Well, it's rather hard to describe exactly what he does for a living. Somewhat because it's a rather complex job but also because there are certain forces deeply embedded in our government that don't want that information to reach the general public. Let's just say, have you seen The Bourne Identity?"
Me: "No."
uncomfortable silence
I have no problem confessing the truth. I'm not ashamed of the truth. The lie would just keep the conversation going. (That in itself is probably not a great reason to get married--just to keep conversations going.)
Like Miranda, I sometimes struggle with the fact that the external world would find me easier to accept if I would just get married already and fit in with everyone else. (Also in itself not a great reason to get married.) But for the time being, I'll play the mystery woman.
And leave the world to figure me out.
And you, dear readers? What Sex and the City moments do you relate to, as a single present or a single past? Share them in the comments section below.
----------
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Power of Two
Having recently survived a bout with food poisoning (recently, as in yesterday), I am reminded once again of something I'm missing out on from not yet being married. I find myself longing for one of the less glamorous aspects of being happily settled down: having someone in your life legally obligated to wake up at 2:00 in the morning and reassure you that you're not going to die (probably) from eating raw cookie dough.
Sometimes one of the hardest things about being single is . . . being single. Being on my own. Facing the world alone. Handling life's inconveniences and mild tragedies by myself. Stepping carefully (and barefoot) around broken glass to retrieve the vacuum cleaner myself, rather than holler for assistance. Getting out of bed myself (cell phone in hand) to investigate strange noises in the middle of the night.
And calculating my chances of survival against the forces of probable salmonella.
Such moments were made for in-sickness-and-in-health partnerships. Lacking one of those, I have to turn to my next closest option: Mom. She took my 6:00 a.m. phone call (I decided to let her sleep in a bit) and gave me the reassurance I was needing. Besides being a constant source of good advice, Mom provided that human contact I needed.
I think that's why God gave us two of a lot of things. Two arms, two legs, two feet. A pair of hands, a set of matching fingers, a couple of ears. Even two nostrils. I think His plan was to give us a constant, a means of comparing, a standard by which to judge. Got a weird bump on your thumb you've never noticed? It could freak you out a little until you notice that you have the exact same bump on your other thumb.
And a for-better-or-for-worse partner can serve the same purpose. "Are you worried about that weird noise downstairs?" "No. Go back to sleep." "Does the cat look like it's walking funny?" "Maybe. If he's still doing it tomorrow, we'll call the vet." Sometimes a second opinion is all you need to let something go or to stop worrying.
So until Mr./Ms. Right comes along, singletons have to find their own constant, their own power of two. Other single friends are awesome for this! We form our own partnerships for taking the car to the repair shop, getting a second opinion on that weird basement smell that might be a natural gas leak, driving each other to and from the doctor's office or hospital.
In a sweet example from Grey's Anatomy, Cristina and Meredith formed one such "power of two" partnership. They called it being each other's "person," after Cristina designated Meredith as her emergency contact person on a medical form. (Watch the scene here.)
But if you're fresh out of "dark and twisty" medical interns, you may be looking for someone with which to form a "power of two."
May I suggest Mom?
----------
Sometimes one of the hardest things about being single is . . . being single. Being on my own. Facing the world alone. Handling life's inconveniences and mild tragedies by myself. Stepping carefully (and barefoot) around broken glass to retrieve the vacuum cleaner myself, rather than holler for assistance. Getting out of bed myself (cell phone in hand) to investigate strange noises in the middle of the night.
And calculating my chances of survival against the forces of probable salmonella.
Such moments were made for in-sickness-and-in-health partnerships. Lacking one of those, I have to turn to my next closest option: Mom. She took my 6:00 a.m. phone call (I decided to let her sleep in a bit) and gave me the reassurance I was needing. Besides being a constant source of good advice, Mom provided that human contact I needed.
I think that's why God gave us two of a lot of things. Two arms, two legs, two feet. A pair of hands, a set of matching fingers, a couple of ears. Even two nostrils. I think His plan was to give us a constant, a means of comparing, a standard by which to judge. Got a weird bump on your thumb you've never noticed? It could freak you out a little until you notice that you have the exact same bump on your other thumb.
And a for-better-or-for-worse partner can serve the same purpose. "Are you worried about that weird noise downstairs?" "No. Go back to sleep." "Does the cat look like it's walking funny?" "Maybe. If he's still doing it tomorrow, we'll call the vet." Sometimes a second opinion is all you need to let something go or to stop worrying.
So until Mr./Ms. Right comes along, singletons have to find their own constant, their own power of two. Other single friends are awesome for this! We form our own partnerships for taking the car to the repair shop, getting a second opinion on that weird basement smell that might be a natural gas leak, driving each other to and from the doctor's office or hospital.
In a sweet example from Grey's Anatomy, Cristina and Meredith formed one such "power of two" partnership. They called it being each other's "person," after Cristina designated Meredith as her emergency contact person on a medical form. (Watch the scene here.)
But if you're fresh out of "dark and twisty" medical interns, you may be looking for someone with which to form a "power of two."
May I suggest Mom?
----------
Monday, February 21, 2011
The "Carefree" Life of the Single Person
Perhaps the second entry of a blog is a bit too soon for the VH1: Behind the Blog episode. However, I thought I would share the inspiration for "Table for One."
My inspiration for starting this blog came from Mr. Mike Morton, columnist for the Newton Kansan, our daily paper here in Newton, Kansas (or had you figured that out from the name?). On April 7th of last year, Mr. Morton's On the Loose column focused on the life of a single person. He talked of the freedom that comes from having no witnesses to your questionable personal habits. According to Mr. Morton, the "male side of 'singledom'" includes using a single fork to butter toast, scramble eggs, and stir coffee, all in an attempt to wash as few dishes as possible. The single man also drinks straight from the milk carton and does laundry only as a last resort. Mr. Morton closed his column with these remarks:
This article hit me where I live, so to speak. The "deep waters" of the single woman have been my swimming ground for my entire adult life. And though I could relate to some of Mr. Morton's musings on the life of the single male, I felt as though I might have something to add as an experienced single female. Furthermore, in the last few years, I've been encountering more and more thirty-something (or older or younger) singletons like me, and I felt we needed a voice.
So I sent Mr. Morton an e-mail. And here's what it said:
Mr. Morton liked what I had to say and asked permission to use my comments in a future column. I agreed, and a few weeks later, with his own folksy flavor mixed in, our joint column appeared in the Kansan. (Read it here, if you like.)
In the following weeks, the kind comments I received from friends and family, from singletons I know through church and through work, convinced me that a consistent voice of modern-day singles might be a welcome addition to the conversation of the day. A few months of brainstorming and hemming-and-hawing, and "Table for One" was born!
Looking back at my e-mail to Mike Morton, there's only one thing I would change. After having experienced "Snowmageddon 2011," I would add that a single woman also shovels 17 inches of snow off her own 40-foot-long driveway.
----------
My inspiration for starting this blog came from Mr. Mike Morton, columnist for the Newton Kansan, our daily paper here in Newton, Kansas (or had you figured that out from the name?). On April 7th of last year, Mr. Morton's On the Loose column focused on the life of a single person. He talked of the freedom that comes from having no witnesses to your questionable personal habits. According to Mr. Morton, the "male side of 'singledom'" includes using a single fork to butter toast, scramble eggs, and stir coffee, all in an attempt to wash as few dishes as possible. The single man also drinks straight from the milk carton and does laundry only as a last resort. Mr. Morton closed his column with these remarks:
Being single ain't exactly a bed of roses.
"Footloose and fancy free?"
Not exactly. The single man is on his own, so there's no one to remind him he's running low on groceries, he has an appointment or "Mother's coming to visit."
And what about the single woman?
Let's put it this way.
This is deep water I refuse to enter, and I am very, very sure not entering is one of the wisest things I have ever done.
(Read Mike Morton's entire column "The Carefree Life of a Single Person" here.)
This article hit me where I live, so to speak. The "deep waters" of the single woman have been my swimming ground for my entire adult life. And though I could relate to some of Mr. Morton's musings on the life of the single male, I felt as though I might have something to add as an experienced single female. Furthermore, in the last few years, I've been encountering more and more thirty-something (or older or younger) singletons like me, and I felt we needed a voice.
So I sent Mr. Morton an e-mail. And here's what it said:
Thank you very much for your article in April 7th's The Newton Kansan. As a fellow singleton, I appreciate any attempt to share our reality with a world built for two.
The "deep water" of the single woman? You may refuse to enter, but I'm living it every day. So let me take a whack at it.
A single woman:
--moves heavy furniture by herself, one inch at a time, rather than wait until friends or family stop by to help. (Last month, I lugged a china cabinet up a flight of stairs by myself while my feline roommates watched in bemused amazement.)
--makes friends with the guys at the service station. She has to; having no spouse to drop her off and pick her up (or just take care of the darn car himself), she spends many hours hanging out in the repair shop's waiting room.
--never ages. If she wants cold pizza and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, who's going to stop her or look on disapprovingly? There are no little ones around for whom to be a good example; therefore, spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar are completely acceptable. At 35 years old, I'm the proud owner of a pair of Snoopy and Woodstock "footsie" pajamas, which are often worn until noon on Saturdays.
Yet...
--appreciates being treated as an adult. I've been on my own since college; couples, stop sending wedding invitations and Christmas cards to my parents with my name tacked on.
--wouldn't mind meeting Mr. Right someday but, for the most part, she's pretty okay with her life as it is.
And these probably apply to both single men and single women. A singleton:
--always gets to watch his/her favorite TV shows, eat his/her favorite foods, and keep the thermostat where he/she wants it.
--is usually more comfortable on her/his own rather than with a crowd of people. Friends and family think they are doing singletons a favor by keeping them company, but often, we're just fine on our own.
--doesn't have time to be footloose and fancy-free; she's/he's too busy doing all the work that a married couple (and perhaps their well-trained children) share: take out the trash, mow the lawn, wash the dishes, do the laundry, pay the bills, dust the bookshelves, vacuum, get the car serviced, buy groceries, fix meals, buy and send birthday presents and cards, file the tax return, renew the car registration, fix the dripping faucet, sew on the loose button, make food for the office party or family gathering, load and unload the car from trips, take the cat to the vet, and, of course, haul the china cabinet up the stairs.
Thanks, again, for your article!
Mr. Morton liked what I had to say and asked permission to use my comments in a future column. I agreed, and a few weeks later, with his own folksy flavor mixed in, our joint column appeared in the Kansan. (Read it here, if you like.)
In the following weeks, the kind comments I received from friends and family, from singletons I know through church and through work, convinced me that a consistent voice of modern-day singles might be a welcome addition to the conversation of the day. A few months of brainstorming and hemming-and-hawing, and "Table for One" was born!
Looking back at my e-mail to Mike Morton, there's only one thing I would change. After having experienced "Snowmageddon 2011," I would add that a single woman also shovels 17 inches of snow off her own 40-foot-long driveway.
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Monday, February 14, 2011
Happy S.A.D.!!!
Happy Singlehood Awareness Day!!!
If you weren't already aware of your singleness, the world will ensure you are today!
Yes, that's right, folks. It's Valentine's Day again. That magical time of year when candy and dish towels turn pink, when jewelry and cookies become heart-shaped, and naked winged babies are romantic, not creepy.
It's a day focused on love, and, more specifically, on romantic love. True, children may exchange cards and candy at school, but the real focus of the day is on the romantic, coupled off, "I got you, babe" kind of love.
If you have any doubts, just take a look at this year's new Hallmark commercial. Couples share special moments at a bowling alley, a city sidewalk, a hockey game, while the announcer intones, "It's not about saying 'I love you.' It's about saying 'I love us.'" Yep, according to the card conglomerate, if you're not half of a couple, you're not part of this holiday.
Well, too bad, Hallmark. I'm not buying it. You don't have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick's Day, and you don't have to be paired off to celebrate a day dedicated to love.
So I prepared 94 Harry Potter Valentines for my students and special homemade cards for my friends and family. I decorated my classroom and my home in red and pink and used a bright red pen to take notes during staff meetings.
But most importantly, I started this blog.
As a still-single 36 year old, I am well-aware that I haven't followed the typical life plan. I am also aware that I'm not the only weirdo out there. We need to stick together. Support one another, vent our frustrations, share our wisdom gained (e.g., how to hang a picture at the proper height when no one's there to hold the picture while you decide and your cat rarely offers a helpful opinion on matters of home decorating).
This blog is my attempt to do just that. And so I've launched "Table for One" on February 14th, or Singlehood Awareness Day.
Perhaps it's fitting that the acronym for Singlehood Awareness Day is S.A.D. That's the way many singles feel on February 14th, and, for others, they find that that's the emotion the outside world expects them to feel. I believe both views are valid. It's normal to feel sad at being left out of such an outpouring of love and celebration. It's a yearly reminder that you don't fit in, aren't "normal," don't match the world's mold.
On the other hand, if you view Valentine's Day as a day to celebrate all kinds of love, that's valid, too. Why not take another day each year to remember to say "I love you" to friends and family? It's a reminder we can all use.
Yes, romantic love is great, and couples have frequent occasions to celebrate it: weddings, wedding anniversaries, all the never-ending extra anniversaries (the first time we met, our first date, our first kiss, our first spaghetti dinner, our first major car trouble, etc.). Valentine's Day, however, is a day for all of us.
And even if you're more of a S.A.D. singleton, remember this: there's always February 15th to celebrate--the day all the Valentine's chocolates go on clearance.
Happy S.A.D. / Valentine's Day!!!
See you back here next Monday!
----------
If you weren't already aware of your singleness, the world will ensure you are today!
Yes, that's right, folks. It's Valentine's Day again. That magical time of year when candy and dish towels turn pink, when jewelry and cookies become heart-shaped, and naked winged babies are romantic, not creepy.
It's a day focused on love, and, more specifically, on romantic love. True, children may exchange cards and candy at school, but the real focus of the day is on the romantic, coupled off, "I got you, babe" kind of love.
If you have any doubts, just take a look at this year's new Hallmark commercial. Couples share special moments at a bowling alley, a city sidewalk, a hockey game, while the announcer intones, "It's not about saying 'I love you.' It's about saying 'I love us.'" Yep, according to the card conglomerate, if you're not half of a couple, you're not part of this holiday.
Well, too bad, Hallmark. I'm not buying it. You don't have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick's Day, and you don't have to be paired off to celebrate a day dedicated to love.
So I prepared 94 Harry Potter Valentines for my students and special homemade cards for my friends and family. I decorated my classroom and my home in red and pink and used a bright red pen to take notes during staff meetings.
But most importantly, I started this blog.
As a still-single 36 year old, I am well-aware that I haven't followed the typical life plan. I am also aware that I'm not the only weirdo out there. We need to stick together. Support one another, vent our frustrations, share our wisdom gained (e.g., how to hang a picture at the proper height when no one's there to hold the picture while you decide and your cat rarely offers a helpful opinion on matters of home decorating).
This blog is my attempt to do just that. And so I've launched "Table for One" on February 14th, or Singlehood Awareness Day.
Perhaps it's fitting that the acronym for Singlehood Awareness Day is S.A.D. That's the way many singles feel on February 14th, and, for others, they find that that's the emotion the outside world expects them to feel. I believe both views are valid. It's normal to feel sad at being left out of such an outpouring of love and celebration. It's a yearly reminder that you don't fit in, aren't "normal," don't match the world's mold.
On the other hand, if you view Valentine's Day as a day to celebrate all kinds of love, that's valid, too. Why not take another day each year to remember to say "I love you" to friends and family? It's a reminder we can all use.
Yes, romantic love is great, and couples have frequent occasions to celebrate it: weddings, wedding anniversaries, all the never-ending extra anniversaries (the first time we met, our first date, our first kiss, our first spaghetti dinner, our first major car trouble, etc.). Valentine's Day, however, is a day for all of us.
And even if you're more of a S.A.D. singleton, remember this: there's always February 15th to celebrate--the day all the Valentine's chocolates go on clearance.
Happy S.A.D. / Valentine's Day!!!
See you back here next Monday!
----------
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Coming soon to a computer screen near you. . . .
Today's the day!
"Table for One" launches February 14, 2011.
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