Mere Christianity: Like in the Movie

        "[A] notion we get from novels and plays is that 'falling in love' is something quite irresistible; something that just happens to one, like measles. And because they believe this, some married people throw up the sponge and give in when they find themselves attracted by a new acquaintance. But I am inclined to think that these irresistible passions are much rarer in real life than in books, at any rate when one is grown up. When we meet someone beautiful and clever and sympathetic of course we ought, in one sense, to admire and love these good qualities. But is it not very largely in our own choice whether this love shall, or shall not, turn into what we call 'being in love'? No doubt, if our minds are full of novels and plays and sentimental songs, and our bodies full of alcohol, we shall turn any love we feel into that kind of love: just as if you have a rut in your path all the rainwater will run into that rut, and if you wear blue spectacles everything you see will turn blue. But that will be our own fault."

        Stories and tales have been around for a long time, right? So obviously, we are not the first generations to have read a romantically inclined novel. However, we allowed our culture to become that. We all enjoy fairy tales and happy endings and all that, but that is not how life truly works. There are so many movies where a married woman sees some man she loved from her teenage years or something, and has a fling with him and they end up falling in love, and then in the end everything works out. HELLO that is NOT how life works. If you cheat, or whatever, then it's not going to work out like in fairy tales and Hollywood Blockbusters. 

        I believe that being attracted to someone, and being in LOVE with someone are two completely different things. Anyone can think that another person is attractive, but you can't love them until you get to know them and understand them. I also think that you can't truly love someone until you know their flaws and can look past them. To me, that is true love. When you are able to look past the annoyances or quirks that your partner has. Oh look.... I'm rambling... I'm trying to make a different point... 

        Ok, so when you're with someone, you are going to fight. It's only natural. No relationship is perfect. But because of the way some people have grown up, they think that just one fight, whether small or large, means that "it just wasn't meant to be". People think that life has to be all rainbows and cupcakes. Or, they just want it to be that. And even though I wish it was, that's not how life works. No, wait. I don't wish life was easy. I wish it was easier but I don't wish it was easy. When we go through struggles with people we love, we become closer to them when we work it out. We begin to understand the person in a whole new way that we wouldn't have been able to see in any other occasion. I think people need to be more patient. More understanding. Or at least, not act so "life or death" in little things. Our lives are not like movies. A director won't stop everything and say "no no, lets switch this scene here and wait a little longer so that we can end with the sunset in the background." We have to make our own happy endings even if there's some scenes we wish we could cut or have a "Take 2", we just have to take what we're given. 

Broken Mirror

Have you ever broken a mirror and looked at your reflection?

       So many different paths are put before me. On the right is a party with blaring music. On the left is a computer with a blank word document. I turn back to the right and in place of the party was a war scene within my living room. I shudder and turn away, hearing a crack. Looking to the left again I see my friends, waving for me to join them, but I hear a voice from the right call my name. I turn to see, and as I do I hear another crack. A giant monster is staring at me with red eyes, enraged, holding a test in his hands. I cringe and hide away in my closet. I hear another crack as I shut the door.

       After years and years, I open the door. I see rainbows and puppies. My old swing-set. I sit on it and begin to swing. As I go forward, I see my best friend, my first pet, my only dog, lying on the ground dying. *crack* I swing back, tears streaming. I continue swinging, and with every push, I hear words being yelled at me. Lies. *crack* I hear the monster yelling at his companion, causing her to begin leaving. *crack* I lean back as much as I can, feeling the wind against me grow stronger, and I try to hold on to the ropes, but I can’t. I fall. I hear an earth shattering crack.

       I sit up after years and years. There in front of me is a Prince. More beautiful than anything. He is holding in his hands the broken pieces of a mirror. He begins putting it together like a puzzle. He is smiling gently, sending a calming feeling throughout every part of my body. He looks up and smiles at me and tells me to look. “It’s not finished yet.” I say, confused. There were missing pieces to the mirror. He laughed gently to himself, “Look at the reflection.” I shook my head, refusing to do so. “Look and see what I see.” I looked. I saw beauty. But only parts of it. “The parts to finish my art are not here yet. They will develop over time. Until then, we can only see this beauty.”



Litany Rewrite: My Music

You are the wake up call and the wake up.

You are the happiness and the shower.

You are the car ride on the way to school

and the sound coming from the birds.

You are the sheet to the pianist

and the bow to the violinist.

However, you are not the homework given by a teacher,

the essay due on Wednesday,

or the dead grass outside.

You are definitely not the barking of dogs outside.

There is no way at all that you are the barking of dogs outside.

It is quite possible that you are the distraction in my head,

maybe even the interruption of this poem,

but you are not anywhere near

to being the late night tears.

And a quick look at the phone will show

that you are not the text message in the chatbox

or the cat sleeping at my feet.

It might interest you to know,

since we are talking about this,

that I am the crying in the closet.

I am also the child typing away,

the pathetic mess on the floor

and the late night cleaning of the room.

I am the one shouting along, too

and the stress of life.

But don’t fret, I am not the wake up call and the wake up.

You are still the wake up call and the wake up.

You will always be the wake up call and the wake up,

not to mention the happiness and--just because-- the shower.