All the Single Ladies

To All the Single Girls. And Yes, That Includes Me:

Each day I wake up and wonder what sorts of cultural and societal influences will bombard me, trying to make me feel like crap before I have a chance to put up my guard. Today is not one of those days, though, and I feel like I can take on anything, be it screaming children, obnoxious undergrads, or nauseating couples trying to flirt with one another. I think that while I'm feeling so empowered, I must share some of my wisdom with the world.

Please, please, please stop looking for guys everywhere. Yes, they are everywhere, but no, that does not mean that any one of them is your future "someone." Your appeals for the perfect guy are going unheard, and the sooner you realize he doesn't exist, the better off we will all be. If I've come to know anything in the past four months, it is that no guy is perfect, and neither am I.

Happiness does not lie in some unrequited love, contrary to all popular love songs (especially those by this girl). I respect anyone with a decent talent for writing lyrics, but those lyrics usually mean more to the writer than to anyone listening. Even if they do describe your life perfectly, know that it is probably a fluke, and that your life is no more a fairytale than mine or Sylvia Plath's. The sooner you know this, the more time you'll have to fully appreciate writing your own happy ending, not something cliche but something great.

Now here comes my snarky side. I'm sick to death of hearing 20-year-old (or 19... or 27, for that matter) children complain about not having someone to love. You know what I found? That someone to love stares back at me each time I look in the mirror. She's been there for 23 years, and she'll be there a whole lot longer than any fling. The sooner you get comfortable in your own skin, the more you'll appreciate how this world was not made for couples any more than it was made for creatures without opposable thumbs. God made all of it for all of His children, not just the ones with a ring on their left-hand finger. Loving myself has become the key to solving almost all of my problems; no matter what the beauty magazines or my Utah "culture" says about my divine worth, I know that I am better than a number on a scale, an age on a wedding video, or the number of carats in a diamond ring. I don't know how to make others believe that, too, but the sooner we realize that it doesn't take anyone but ourselves to make us happy, we'll all breathe a little easier.

There you have it. For once, this is a principle whose success I have definitely measured in my life. No amount of money or fame can bring me ultimate happiness. Not even a grand vacation can be the final marker of my worth in this world. It is the love I have for myself and the love I have for others that really truly matters, and I want all of you to know that, too.

The End.

Take a Look

Most of the time I can look at myself in the mirror without analyzing anything too much. Some of the time, I even manage to think, "I look decent," or "I look good," without too much forethought. However, there are times when I catch a glimpse of myself with a face like this and wonder how I was possibly blessed with such awesome talent for ugly faces.

{At this point I'm just grateful that I'm not missing any teeth.}

Actually, Amy Winehouse might have it worse than me; I've refused to post such heinousness on the interwebs, so as to spare my future children from the embarrassment of seeing my charmer plastered all over the google search for "ugly faces." I think that I'll really begin an ugly smiles club, though, right next to my mullet madness. The combination of awkward/hideous faces and scragly mullets can't really be beat. I'm sure this will be epic.

Hypothetically Speaking

If I were invited to a Jesus Birthday Party, I just know I'd show up and make some sacrilegious comment or perhaps show a picture like this.

If I were to have a completely normal day, sans flooding toilets, spilled bubbles, and children screaming "cheese curds PLEASE!" I might not be able to sleep as well at night.

If I were the only person left in the whole world, I still think I'd find someone else to talk to.

If there were only one thing left in this life for me to do, I think loving would be that thing... and I'd strive to do it the best I could.

Vindictive

Confession:

I'm a person who relishes when others get "theirs," you know, the comeuppance that every horrible person deserves after wronging me in some way. I sometimes think about retaliation, from tire-slashing to embarrassing photos, and I've been known to fantasize about how I would make someone pay for the ways in which they've hurt me. This doesn't often help me feel any better about the situation, but it gives me a little pleasure to know that I'm attempting to take another's fate in my hands. I feel vindicated by my vindictiveness, and I appreciate the times that I'm able to address my frustrations head on with a little bit of pre-meditated evil.

No worries, though. I would never actually do harm to another. The fun lies in my imagination.