Bookcase Meditations

Between working at Random House and just being the nerdy fool that I am, I have an intense collection of books in my room. Every surface or shelf holds books ranging from tiny chic-lits like the "Shopaholic" collection, to the "Twilight" saga (I'll admit, that box set is collecting dust in the corner). My favorites are bent and ratty, like Hemingway's "A Moveable Feast," or my Stephen King novels, or the "Stargazer's Guide" Dad got me for Christmas. Then there are the new-agey and religious texts like "The Power of Now," "The Tao Te Ching," The Bible, (a few different copies), and all of the books attempting to explain them. Look up to the top shelf and you'll find every musical score I own, dog-eared and abused through the years of being tossed in my music bags and tattered in staging rehearsals.

I'm sitting here on this fantastically quiet Saturday night, candle flickering and barely any noise throughout this house, staring at the shelves of my bookcase in front of me. I am not sure why this makes me so calm. Perhaps it's the knowledge that I can find answers there - one of these books has something to teach me tonight, if I'm willing. Maybe it's the familiarity of the books I have from my childhood and upbringing - I can hear my Grandpa Norman's words on Hemingway. I can recall my mother's voice reading some of the fairytales in my enormous Children's Stories anthology up there. I can think back on countless nights in high school, setting aside my AP homework to curl up on the couch with "The Princess Bride," or some random Nancy Drew. Getting lost in some other story. Seeing how other tales can end; taking heart in the fact that I am still very much writing my novel each day, and it could go in any one of these fantastic directions. 

I think the comfort is probably in the lessons there. The enlightenment. The opportunity to expand and evolve and adapt. There is comfort in the plans laid out by humans older and wiser - and so much more experienced than I. Maybe tonight they'll let me join them. 

Love. And Marriage, I Guess.

I've had a crazy night. I've had some Jim Beam, sung a lot of singing, run a few miles, voted for a few things for my state -- obviously now I'm going to post about marriage!

No, it really has nothing to do with any of those things.

There's been this article floating around all week, written very charmingly by Seth Adam Smith. (In case you want to read that, here is the link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/seth-adam-smith/marriage-isnt-for-you_b_4209837.html). This post is not to somehow put down that article. I think it's beautiful that he has learned what he has from his marriage, and from love in general, at such a young age. His wisdom is great; his experiences are by no means going to be scoffed at in this entry.

I guess I'm just a little... "over it."

I have a theory (since you are here, on my page, how 'bout you go with it for a sec?): Life gets over-thought all the freaking time. Everything from what we should be eating three times (or more) a day, to what our entire purpose in life is get drawn out, with multiple conclusions, always. We are influenced by the TV we watch, the video games we play, the books we read (if we still do that), and our friends. Our family. All of it. We are so heavily influenced; Instead of going with our guts and keeping things simple, we complicate, make lists, worry. Worry some more. Think it over. Talk it over. Oh my God - just STOP!

While reading the article, as a late-20's single female (I almost wrote "single, white female" but realized the TMI was really unnecessary. And not habit, I swear.), all I kept thinking was "Yes, okay, we get it: you feel guilty for having doubts in your marriage at your really incredibly young age to even be committed in marriage. We hear you: you feel like you need to declare to the world that your marriage will henceforth be about her, and your family only...but more importantly: I think that this will probably fail on you."

I am not saying his ideas are wrong, or love is selfish. I'm not saying he can't make this switch. I'm just saying -- can we all just be??? I feel like the failure that exists in marriage and partnership in our country actually isn't selfishness, but more... a freak-out that ensues whenever people stop just existing in their "married" state - happy, content to be a human who will inevitably make a ton of mistakes and come off really stupidly a lot of times, and glad to be with another human who will make those same mistakes. We over-complicate. We over-think. Infidelity and abuse stop being the deal breakers... and "seeming less invested than I am" becomes a reason for divorce. "Something not feeling right," is cause for breaking up.

Things "don't feel right" for me at some point almost every week. There, I said it. And by the way, that was the case when I was in happy and loving long-term relationships. It was also the case when I wasn't. I often "don't feel right," or feel selfish in some way. I often feel like I'm doing things wrong. I rarely feel like I'm being selfless enough, or am content enough, or have it all figured out... enough. Sure, I strive to be better about it all, but these are the idealistic dreams of our annoying society. No one feels right all the time. (Please correct me if you do!) Everyone has issues - even tiny, insignificant ones count. Those issues can make us selfish, confusing, complicated, and flawed as friends, partners, lovers, whatever. That is what makes love - true, human, imperfect love so astoundingly beautiful (and amazing) to me. It's the endless, exhausting attempt of our society to try and fix that that seems to create such unbelievable upheaval between partners.

I wish we could all just be simple somehow. Love simply. Feel what we feel for one another, and accept each other as being constantly evolving, messy, issue-laden humans. I wish for each of us to find a partner who truly knows how to love without the veil of "perfect" hanging over each of our heads. I pretty much vow not to marry - or even consider it - until I know that exists within whatever union I am contemplating.

Let's just love, and stop thinking so damn much.