Rant Fever 2.0

So I kind of . . . sort of . . . hooked up with my ex while I was back home. I know, I know, sooo stupid.  But the deluded part of my brain was telling me “you’ve changed, he’s changed, maybe you should try again. After all, you were a bitter wretch last time you were with this guy,” and wistful memories of the time we were together came flooding in.  In the end I came to realize that it wasn’t really him that I was ever crazy about. It was his apartment in a 19^th century house on capital hill.  It was meeting him after work at his job downtown. It was the picture of John Cusack holding a stereo over his head on the wall next to the Bob Dylan records on his mantle. It was the music he listened to, the movies he liked, the books he read, the trivia he knew. All of the crap that looks so perfect on a facebook page, but means absolutely nothing when it comes to personal connection.  

Now I’m left with a feeling of utter ickiness. Could this be due to the fact that I hooked up with my ex purely out of convenience knowing that the spark would neatly fizzle as soon as I went back to Prague? . . . Okay, partly . . . but it’s also from the realization that so many friendships and relationships have been based on such trivial crap. For years, I, and many like myself, have been using such criterion to determine interpersonal relationships. But all it does is fog up interactions that would have otherwise been exposed as a waste of time. Perhaps it’s about time I stepped off that bridge leading out of adolescence, though it’s strange what we hold on to in the name of comfort.

But I digress (as I so often do). Now that one relationship has died and I’m left looking at a blank slate ahead of me, I have to push the reset button on the part of my brain that hopes for a romantic future. I’m noticing that the letters on that button are beginning to fade, it’s been pressed so often. And last night, I was wondering why and whether that button was even necessary. So I called up my sister for some sisterly advice. We talked about dealing with age and not getting what we want. She’s 7 years my senior, but had her first child little over a year ago. She’s also one of the few people I trust to commiserate because she truly realizes my plight.  

And this she says: that as women, particularly women in the church, more particularly women in the church with a patriarchal blessing, it’s easy to make the mistake of becoming engrained with a sense of entitlement. The belief that we deserve a husband a home and a family, and a great injustice is being done if we don’t get it. But God wants his children born into gospel-oriented families. He’s not holding them hostage from us. What he does is his business, and whatever reasons there may be, they’re his reasons.

She also told me that before she became pregnant, she had to give up that sense of entitlement. She described the moment when she was able to look at her husband and tell him that she’d be perfectly happy if it was just the two of them for the rest of their lives. And she knew that she really would be, and was finally able to stop worrying about whether or not it would happen for her.

I have to do that too. It’s a little harder, seeing as I can’t hold my own hand and look into my own eyes, and say I’d be happy even if it’s just us. Well I could, but . . . well anyway.  Therefore I’m erasing all resolutions for the new year, and am making a new promise: I will go forward with the mindset that it may only ever be just me, and I will find a way to be happy with it.

That’s it. Little words, big commitment.  It’s likely to take up most of my energy, so I’m loath to make additional promises. 2010 take 2, and action!

Absolutely not. I don't know where this writer got a degree, or what the copyeditor was thinking. Mixing up tenses and subject-verb agreement is something you should expect to get right by the time you leave elementary school. It should run:
So she went to the local community college and remembered that in some way she had become "less ambitious than when [she] was younger."

And even that is a sloppy sentence. This is why I quit journalism.

I admit to enjoying the work so far. There have been a few brief passages that I had to trudge through, but otherwise it has been an easy and enjoyable read.

I hope the others will be as enjoyable as this one has been so far, but I keep my hopes low. I started "Sense and Sensibility" a year or two ago and never finished it.

I picked up a copy of "The Complete Novels of Jane Austen" published by Wordsworth Editions at Half Price Books for $9.98.

Life as an expatriate has afforded one major advantage in that it's easy to be politically abstinent. Now I'm not saying that I'm not proud of my country or its leaders past and present. Nor am I completely ambivalent towards issues that clearly go against gospel principles. I'm just relieved to be in a situation that can allow information to exist in my mind outside of rhetoric. But the headache has returned while on holiday in the States.

It's somewhat ironic that the last discussion I had with anyone before leaving Czech was political. The only one I've had since moving to Prague in fact (and I went to see the President speak earlier that year which tells you how void of politics the foreigner's lifestyle can be). My Slovak (the object of unrequited affection) came to bid me farewell, and we chatted for hours of differences between our two worlds. When the subject turned to politics, I was amazed to find that I was genuinely enjoying the conversation (I realize my infatuation was likely a contributing factor). I told him that I had never had a discussion with anyone about politics where a person was simply stating occurrences and events without bias.  I then felt comfortable enough to tell him of my feelings regarding my own involvement in politics, and asked what made him so interested in it. His answer was one that completely changed my perception.

He told me that as a Slovak, he's old fashioned, and as a man, it's his duty to follow what is happening in local government.  It will be his responsibility to ensure the security of his family and understand the political and economic climate in which they reside. Needless to say, I felt pretty dumb for never seeing things that way, and it all at once made sense.

So what now? My feelings towards personal political involvement still hasn't changed. Getting involved has always felt like trying to jump onto a moving train, and in the words of the British, I just can't be bothered.

As I was speaking to my mother, I come to the following conclusion: I'm okay with being a political agnostic, but when it comes time to marry, I hope I can find someone with the same regard for politics as my Slovak. If I should be so lucky, I would trust that his decisions would be in the best interest of our family, and would prayerfully take his advice. I could be relieved, yet involved. I realize that this statement will undoubtedly evoke very impassioned responses from fellow ranters, but it feels good to finally know where I stand in a place where I've always felt like an outsider. Perhaps this will change as I get older, but for now, it'll do.