Is It Bad?

Is it bad to be in love with Darth Vader?

We've had Star Wars fever at our house the past few days. One symptom of this fever is an obsession with Anakin Skywalker. When I first saw these movies back in the theaters I fell in love with Anakin. After the movies Hayden Christensen became my celebrity crush and my "gimme". The idea of a "gimme" comes from my sister Amy and her husband. At one point they each had one celebrity crush that they were allowed to kiss if the opportunity presented itself. "I'll give ya one" thus a "gimme". There was a time when Daniel and I's gimmes were Star Wars co-stars: mine Hayden Christensen and his Natalie Portman playing Anakin's love Padme. He's so over Portman and I thought my love affair with Christensen had passed, but the movies have rekindled my feelings. He's actually dethroned Robert Pattinson, a feat not easily accomplished. I listened to an interview with Christensen where he talked about eating organic beef because he believes you are what you eat. In that case he must be on a steady diet of BABE. Though I think it really is Anakin I'm in love with as I don't actually know Christensen. (Probably a good chance that it's Edward Cullen I'm in love with as well and not Pattinson, but I do think Pattinson is way cooler than Edward will ever be so maybe not.)

So is it bad that I'm attracted to the character that goes on to become one of the most terrifying cinematic villans of all time? Every time I watch I think, "Maybe this time he won't turn to the darkside. Maybe he'll see things more clearly this time. Maybe he and Padme can live happily ever after." Fat chance. His fate was sealed back in the 70's when Lucas created the character. He never had a chance. Even after he gives himself over to evil and is knighted Darth Vader, I am still totally into him. Even after he kills all the youngling Jedi's...STILL. It's sad to watch his story turn into tragedy, but he actually turns into even more of a badass.

Daniel and I were talking about my feelings for Anakin and how illogical they are. I can't fully explain them...well actually I can, but if I did it would make me sound like an even bigger nerd. Though I already used the word youngling so I suppose salvaging any coolness is a lost cause at this point. On screen I am drawn to a terribly flawed, hot-tempered, and eventually evil character. But why would I be attracted to this fictional character when at home I have a husband who would make a pretty attractive movie character himself. He's a total babe who doesn't have a miniature ponytail and side braid rat-tail hairdo. And he's downstairs right now playing his guitar first singing some Johnny Cash, then my most favorite Ryan Adams song AND he sounds good. And now I overhear him learning the new Miley Cyrus song from the new Nicholas Sparks movie. I can't deny a good ballad and this song is no exception so I've been rocking out to it daily since the movie came out. And he's learning it so we can sing it at Young Life because the kids love it too. What a guy! So he may not get to wear a cloak, wield a light saber, choke people with the force, or murder younglings, but I guess he's still pretty great. I'll keep him.

Evolution of an evil, but dreamy babe:

Unfortunate hair style in Episode II.

At the peak of Ultimate Babe-ness in Episode III.

Gone to the darkside and still dreamy as ever.

Dark Places

I don't want to write about this, but I'd feel like a liar if I wasn't honest about the reality of today (and so many days like it). I try to live honestly. I try to teach this to my Young Life girls as well. We talk a lot about "facebook lives". On a number of occasions they've confessed their jealousy towards and longing for another person's life they've seen contained inside a facebook album. I've been right there with them at times. Those of us unwise to see past a set of pictures can easily be deceived by the illusion of a pretty and carefree life. My girls are talking about body image almost constantly, "If only I had her abs, her boobs, her...everything, then I'd be happy." I'm old enough now to understand that happiness does not come so easily. I tell them stories about my friends and the prettiest girl I know and how despite appearing to have it all, struggles with the same stuff we all do: insecurity, loneliness, lack of contentment. I try to tell them that a lot of the lives they see on facebook are the happiest of moments, the most glamorous of events, and the days we look prettiest. For the most part people don't fill photo albums with memories of the worst days of their lives. Facebook operates the same way. And it should. That's okay. I'm not proposing some crazy revolution to post about all the terrible or just boring things that occur day to day. But I want my girls to recognize that the stories being told in those pictures are only part of the bigger story. I want them to stop longing for someone else's life or what they perceive is that person's life.

My facebook is a happy place with pictures marking time with family during holidays, Friday nights at high school football games, and Saturday nights with friends. My wall is full of encouraging hello's and comments from friends. But that's only part of my story. This blog is different. Some people would say I should treat it the same as facebook. It's a similar medium, just a different web address. But as I teach my girls about "facebook lives" and then take on a project of online therapy where I vowed to be honest as I confront my demons, I can't dodge this bullet tonight by writing an easy post.

I love to write about funny things and laugh at myself and the things that make up my day. Humor makes up a lot of who I am. Coping mechanism used inappropriately sometimes to change the subject? Maybe. But having a sense of humor has made life livable at unlivable times. Cancer isn't funny, but that doesn't mean laughter should cease permanently because it's entered unwelcomed into your family.

And now that I've spent an entire post justifying why I feel compelled to write honestly, the time has come to actually articulate what it is I'm justifying. I don't really have anything poignant or gripping to share. I guess I just needed to acknowledge that today was a bad day. I think maybe a waste of a day is a better description as I didn't feel "in pain". In fact I didn't feel much of anything. My bad days are marked more by an absence of emotion rather than by an onslaught of grief. The pain is in the lacking, the void, the numbness. The hours of the day ticked away slowly as I watched the position of the sun change the light coming through my bedroom blinds. No real contact with anything outside of my house except through a computer screen. Emails, a phonecall, and nothingness. A wasting away. The day is over and I have nothing to show for it.

I feel insecure sharing this. As I type I hear judgments in my head about oversharing, lacking discretion, inappropriateness. If you've never struggled with or encountered depression in your family this can be a disturbing description. But it is real. It comes and it goes and I know I shouldn't let it in, but sometimes I do. Some days I write about Star Wars and some days I write about anxiety and depression. Some days are easy and fun, some days are not. As long as these are both realities, I feel like I need to write about both. And if tomorrow is a light hearted post, I won't try to justify it and defend myself from feeling judged as manic. And maybe it is inappropriate to share the ugly, the sad, and the dark reality, but I'm starting to identify as a writer (maybe a crummy one). And this is what writers do; they write. So I'm writing, inappropriate or not, but honestly.

Sex Ed at the Bookstore

I was camped out at Borders tonight reading in the Spirituality section when I heard, "How is she doing that?" I looked past Sociology, past Psychology, and sure enough there was the Sexuality section. I couldn't see the giggling culprits, but I heard the whispering voices of two adolescent boys. Apparently they couldn't contain their curiosity to a whisper level after encountering this particular information. I enjoy people watching/eavesdropping whenever in public, especially at the bookstore, but this I could have done without.

A Nerd's Life

This is how nerds like me and Daniel de-stress.

Is it Bad?

Is it bad that I feel obligated to finish movies even when they're terrible?

We just finished one of the worst movies I've ever seen. "Then why did you watch it?", you might ask. When I pay for a movie, whether at the theater or a rental, I feel obligated to finish it no matter how terrible. Weekend movies on cable I have no issue with turning the channel even if I've already invested 45 minutes into it. But why the obligation with rentals? I sat there knowing the movie was not going to get any better, but needed the closure of watching it end. Why put myself through the punishment? Why the feelings of obligation? Where does this come from? Any thoughts? When you encounter a horrendous movie, do you finish it or walk out? I'm very curious if I am the only one who can't walk away.

The movie was Gentlemen Broncos f.y.i.

Falling with Style

We rented Disney's Earth and Daniel keeps falling asleep every time we start to watch it. Since he continues attempting to finish it, I have now seen it 2 1/2 times. It's great and there was blog post written all over the scene with the baby ducks. As Mandarin ducks emerge from the nest for the first time, they must make their first attempt at flight. It would be a lot easier for them if they were hatched on the ground and thus attempt their technique as a sort of lift off. Rather they must step out from their tree house and flap with all their might to make it to the ground. The scene in the movie shows baby duck after baby duck (what's the term? ducklet?) stepping into the great unknown and flying for the first time. It actually doesn't look anything like flight though. The ducks are flapping, flapping, flapping, but their path is straight down with a cushy landing in a pile of leaves. Narrator James Earl Jones comments that it can't really be called flying, but rather "falling with style". I LOVE this. If you watch it, they are a picture of failure. Despite all their best efforts, each one falls straight to the ground just as their entire species have done for generations. Talk about a culture encouraging the freedom to fail. Failure/falling serve as a rite of passage. I guess it works this way with human babies as well as we learn to walk. Parents never scream at their children in frustration over failing to execute those first steps. Instead each quiver, wobble, and tumble are met with cheers of encouragement and laughter. The learning curve for walking is well-acknowledged. Why do I not give myself this same kind of grace and kindness when learning anything new? I think I'll try to adopt the mantra of the baby ducks and fall with style eating dirt and picking leaves out of my hair, but looking cute doing it. (And yes this brings my personal mantra count up to like 3 or so at the moment.)

He is Risen...So eat candy?

Used the spoils of the holiday to make a little greeting.

We had an Easter filled to the brim with the typical delights. We started with church where of course we were late; which on Easter means you either sit on the floor in front of the first row (last year) or stand in the vestibule (this year). The vestibule location meant we did have a front row seat for "Baby Palooza 2010" (Standing Room Only) while parents stepped to the back to quiet their fussy kids. I admired their miniature suits and ties and lacy dresses with tulle petticoats. I spent a portion of the service sticking my tongue out at my young friend Emme hoping she would signal her dad or sister, instead she buried her head into his chest in fear. Rory eventually noticed me wave and then whispered loudly, "Dad, turn around. There's people, but I forgot their name. Dad! Turn around!" Dad never did turn around (so Sam tell Brad we stared at the back of his head this morning).

We lunched at the Stadium Club at Kaufman overlooking the gorgeous green field all prepped for the season. Detroit was practicing before the Royals and it resembled a typical high school practice: running from the baseline to the fence leisurely, practicing your golf swing with a bat, and talking, a lot of standing around and talking.

I was prepared this year and purchased my $3 Yo Gabba, Gabba kite a few days earlier. It flew, it crashed. Bubbles were blown. My brother in law touted the ability of this particular bubble wand as creating 500 bubbles a minute. A stat only a dad would be interested in.

It was all very lovely and I am thankful that He is risen, risen indeed.

The official flag of Peeps nation.