All posts filed under: identity

More Than a Bride

A funny thing happened when I got engaged. After nearly a year of engagement, it’s no longer comical. I’m having trouble being polite about it now. I’m starting to wish I had eloped. I became nothing more than a bride. With the exception of my closest friends, it seems no one knows what to say to me except, “How is the wedding planning going?” Maybe this wouldn’t be a problem if I had more interest in planning my wedding. But I am the world’s most lackadaisical bride. I’m the polar opposite of a bridezilla. Case in point: When my mother freaked out about how we were going to decorate the stage for the ceremony (nine months before my wedding), I appeased her by saying we could add some plants. She asked what type of plants I wanted. I replied, “Green ones.” People I have known for years no longer have anything to say to me except to ask about my wedding. People I barely know have offered to help plan it. People are also great …

What is a Quarter-Life Crisis?

Originally posted on Storytime with John:
There’s much talk of ‘The Quarter Life Crisis’ nowadays…which seems to have toppled talk of ‘The Mid-Life Crisis’; a phrase I remember hearing a lot more of as a child in the 90s, on occasions when grown ups were behaving strangely and actually having fun – and when people who should know better were seemingly refusing to “act their age”. For instance if a man traded in his people carrier for a sports car he was essentially bordering on a nervous break down, or if a woman divorced a horrid specimen after many unhappy years she was considered an unstable wreck, or if a quiet balding office worker married his pet goat and began a passionate love affair he was somehow “weird”…well no more. That sort of rhetoric has been well and truly left behind and in its place a “you only live once” motto plaque has been welded down for the foreseeable future. Loathe that phrase…but I can’t deny it’s cultural implications. I am sure like most people you are happy to see such a positive switch; after all…

The True Story Of Cinderella

Originally posted on Elan Mudrow:
As kids While in a scout troop We had to glue dry macaroni On the outside of A lady’s shoe. Spray paint it Gold Place fake flowers Inside of it That didn’t fit, and give it to our mothers, with a smile, And a yearning for approval. The shoe was one our mothers gave us, From their mystery closet Which, to the best of our knowledge, Was filled with thousands Of shoes from various time periods. The shoe, pump or stiletto Appeared to us As something mummified, An ancient artifact. Detached from our mothers. How could we give it back? Something just didn’t seem right About it. I mean, how Could they wear the damn thing again? If indeed, they wore the thing in the first place. ? It, my finished starched slipper of a gift, The prized Michelangelo, The leaning high heel of pasta, My expression of artistic noodlery A representative of post post post American Modernist Scouting, Sat in the middle Of the dining room table For a…