First Anniversary

The year flew by! (Really, since it was one and year one month minus one day ago).

And it was lovely. Really, really wonderful. If this is what marriage is like for everyone, I highly recommend it! We had a long-standing plan of traveling to Las Vegas to renew our vows with Elvis. Of course, my surgery got in the way. When our anniversary rolled around I was still too sore to be doing a lot of walking and standing. We were bummed, but we tried to make the best of it. We spent a beautiful weekend in the mountains and returned to a surprise anniversary party at my parents' house, complete with Elvis and a set of Elvis-y vows since we couldn't make it to his "turf."

So now we are well on our way into our second year. Wiser perhaps, and excited for the road ahead. I wish everyone could have this.

Wishing on Eyelashes

Am I the only person who does this? Is it silly for me to admit that I wished on fallen eyelashes for years with the same wish until it came true?

But it did, so that must count for something.

I won't tell my imaginary readers what I'm wishing for now, because we all know it won't come true if I do! :)

But here is something I wish in general: to one day have the career I choose, in photography. I'm actually working on that one, unlike the things I wish on eyelashes for!

NieNie

I just finished watching Stephanie Nielsen on Oprah. She is a true inspiration.

My comments, though, have to do with this Andrea who spent a day with Stephanie. I thought she was insulting. Anyhow, I always knew Oprah would love Stephanie.

I think she did.

Under the knife

Did not think it would be this hard...

Little Victories

I have always loved the Orange County Fair. For an area so chic, or suburban, or urban, but not rural, to have a good ol' country fair always felt so...comforting. I loved to walk past the rows and rows of growing vegetables in their demonstration garden, delighted to know how brussels sprouts grow (not in plastic bags in the supermarket, in case you were wondering). I loved to see the piglets, just born, the peacocks and llamas and cows and fried foods and crazy people and carnival rides and... oh.

People in this crazy county DO quilt, raise farm animals, and bake beautiful display cakes. Oh, and people, even in the OC where the real estate market never really dropped and the lots are small and getting smaller, DO dedicate some of their time to growing fruits and vegetables. I joined their ranks this year. I grew two beautiful pumpkins and carried them to the fair on Tuesday morning. And I won! (They did spell my name wrong, but who's counting?)

Green Goddess

No, it's not me (but thanks for thinking that for a second).

Image from this site, which also has a version of the recipe.

Last night I made Green Goddess salad dressing, original recipe from Barefoot Contessa, altered by me based on what I like, my desire to reduce the calorie and fat content, and what I had in my fridge....



3/4 c. light mayo

1/4 & 1/4 c. plain yogurt

1 c. basil leaves (preferably from your yard!)

1 bunch chopped scallions (white and green parts)

1/4 c. lemon juice

2 tsp. crushed garlic (mmm)

1 tsp. coarse-ground sea salt

1 tsp. freshly ground pepper

3 tbl. olive oil



Add the mayo, 1/4 c. yogurt, basil, scallions, lemon juice, garlic, salt and pepper to your blender. Blend well. Add additional 1/4 c. yogurt and olive oil and continue blending. Chill or serve immediately on salad (I did romaine with cherry tomatoes and crispy onion pieces for crunch) or as a dip with crudite'.



Delicious.

Trouble in Paradise

Well here I am, on vacation. Much earned and until about an hour ago, much enjoyed. My head is heavy with concern now. I wish that addiction didn't exist. I wish I had a picture-perfect family, and that I didn't need to worry on this trip about anything more than where I should go today, what I should do. 

But I am.

Life is Beautiful

Today was a beautiful day, although my head rings with a headache, the remnant of my tears. I attended the funeral of Todd William Mee, the son of my mother's boss. He was only 35. I never met him, but I wish I had. This is not the first time I've left a funeral wishing I'd met the deceased. It was a reminder that there are wonderful people on this earth.

It was also a reminder that life is fleeting, that people are weak, and yet so strong. Strong enough to read a goodbye to their older brother and protector, strong enough to join the Navy after 9/11 because they feel called to help, strong enough to watch their son's casket carried away from them, strong enough to bury the man they would have married, had God given him a few more months.

I can't imagine how I would have held it had it been my brother. And yet my brother is young, has accomplished nothing compared to this valiant man. I walked away with the astounding sense that the person whose life was ended, far before its time had so much more to offer. He was a great man, a brave sailor, a caring brother and uncle and son. The little things today, like his sister telling us how he would answer her calls with "hello, beautiful" and his father telling us that his deep, melodic voice was "his favorite sound in the world," or the repeated strain that he was his family's protector, the gentle giant, "Bull," that made him the person he was, and made me so sad that I missed out on it.

After the funeral, I paid my respects to his parents, and his father told me this: "Take advantage of every moment" he said "because life can be over, so soon...you know, I think he reached the pinnacle of his life. He was celebrated in the Navy, engaged, and had just received a commission in the Pacific. Maybe his life had reached its pinnacle." He paused and said "I guess we only have so much time on this earth."
"He did so many wonderful things in his time, though" I said.
"It's true. But I still don't understand. I probably won't. Just promise me. Don't leave the house without saying "I love you." Don't waste a single moment."

Glimpse into the Past

On Tuesday night I went to my parents' house to celebrate my dad's birthday. On the kitchen table was an ancient-looking book, and as I have an unexplainable affinity for ancient-looking books, naturally I picked it up and took it to the couch to browse it's pages. It was a jewelry catalog, leather bound, from 1924. Inside my great-grandfather had pasted newspaper articles about baseball. Apparently he was really a fan of the sport. He began, based on the article dates, in 1930 and pasted into this book until about 1935. There were articles on Lou Gerig and Babe Ruth, as well as the then-winning Detroit Lions (his team). I felt his presence as I flipped pages of neatly aligned, yellowing articles. It was as though I could feel the concentration and love that had gone into this scrapbook of sorts, and that I held a treasure in my hands.

Halfway through the book there was an article not pasted on the pages, clipped carefully and folded in half. When I unfolded it I found my grandparents' wedding announcement. Her father must have clipped this later and stored it in his scrapbook. The picture is hard to make out, but one I've seen before. They look radiant, and elated. It does not speak of the years of violence and misery that would follow. The article describes her dress, her bouquet of white roses and gladioli centered on a qhite orchid, her bridesmaids and their dresses and flowers, the guests, and where they were to live, even what the mothers of the bride and groom wore. The attention to detail was touching. I suppose it conveyed a sense that people really cared. I felt as though I had stepped through some mystical door into the chapel with a nervous young couple, their parents, friends, and family. I felt the urgency to save this piece of history, record it. I am working on that. I've bought a wonderful book which will prompt my grandmother to tell her story, and I want to write it all down. But I also plan on treasuring her handwriting.

Reach out today. Ask your mother/grandmother/uncle, anyone, a question about what life was like for them in one certain moment. Remember it.

Never forget.

Quarter Life Crisis

So it's my birthday. 25 years old.

In my 24th year I: had several parties thrown in my honor, worked a lot of overtime, got married, went to Mexico, lost my grandfather, and found myself a little more.

I am currently working for "the man," trying to start a photography business, working on my skills in biking/getting in shape, trying to become a better person, attempting to stop gossiping, growing pumpkins, loving my personal style, feeling strong, adoring my husband of <9 months, trying to be a better wife everyday, working on the whole forgiveness thing, sticking up for myself at work, trying to love my body more, and generally appreciating the wonderful life I have.

I am thankful. I am strong. I am proud. I am 25 years old.

Memorial Day

Well I know I haven't written in a while, and I also realize that I missed Memorial Day, but life has been crazy, and...wait, I don't have to explain myself to a blog! I've been busy, k?

I wanted to share my Memorial Day tale. My mom's uncle was in the Air Force, and his plane crashed during the Korean War. He survived the crash, but had a broken back. He was captured. His back was broken somewhere midway up his spine and he found himself unable to hold his upper body up. He walked with his hands hanging by his ankles, in unbearable pain. His captors beat him daily, despite his broken back. He and his fellow POWs were tortured. They were fed nothing but small amounts of dirty rice, when they were fed at all. He had very little water. Between the dysentery, poor diet, and chronic infections, he lost a lot of weight. His back healed partially, and incorrectly. Over the course of two years he shuffled along, stooped over, through the abuse, lice, and other skin maladies, and malnourishment. When he returned home, his stooped 6'4" frame weighed only 89 pounds.

He eventually healed, although his back had to be re-broken and to heal again. He had children and he never once spoke of his time as a POW. Until about a year ago, when he wrote his story down and gave it to one of his daughters. She emailed it to the rest of us. Those who knew him then always wanted to know what happened. In his matter of fact way, he answered their curious minds. I am going to have my grandma try and find the email so I can post his original story in his own words...but for now...

Take a moment to reflect on the sacrifices that have been made, and continue to be made. Try and separate the soldiers from the war. You may not believe in the cause for fighting, but it has to be done, and will be done, and brave souls will always stand up for what they believe in. They believe in this nation, and the freedoms we have. Soldiers have not always believed in the war they fight, but they know it has to be done, and they will sacrifice to do it.

Thank you.

I love CA

There are so many things I love about the place I live. Among them are the wildflowers and scents of spring. You haven't lived until you've ridden on a motorcycle through cooling fields of strawberries after dusk. They give off a smell that is sweet and delicious, with undertones of dark, rich earth. The air swirls in eddies of different temperatures. You can feel the cool air from the coast mixing with the heat rising from the asphalt. The air is tinged with the scent of pink star jasmine and orange blossoms.

I wonder if my children will know the scents of Orange County, or if concrete and glass will replace fields of strawberries, as they did the fields of oranges. I remember driving down Irvine Blvd. in the summer time and smelling the sharp smell of ripe citrus fruit in the sun and the acrid smell of rotting oranges in the shade of the trees. Now, driving down this same street, the only orange trees left are a novelty. In springtime the sweet and yet citrusy floral scent of their blossoms precedes the fruit that no one will pick, no one will eat.

The fields of strawberries and nurseries of blooming jasmine might be walled in and smothered by parking lot and cinder block. Will I still remember the way they smelled? The difference between spring, summer, and fall? The way the eucalyptus trees bordered the fields and scented the warm, middle-of-day air?

Will anyone remember?

Bliss and Engagement Rings

There are times when I think I am a selfish person. I know that jealousy is "normal," natural even, but I don't want to be a jealous person. I want to be truly happy for those in my life. Sometimes I worry that I am not capable of this.

I am not worried today.

On Friday, in the midst of a terrible day at work, I received some news that has made me incredibly happy. My good friend Krysta let me know that she was engaged. I felt the bliss--true, pure, unselfish bliss--of happiness for her. I am ecstatic. I can't wait to talk to her about it. I've also been reflecting on my engagement, and what a beautiful time it was.

When my husband proposed, I was stunned, shocked, and on cloud nine. The weeks following were some of the most blissful I can remember. I played a Vanessa Carlton song with the lyrics "love is dancing on my finger" and watched the diamond sparkle on my left hand. It was stunning. I remember the disbelief of the moment--that fated, overdone-in-movies moment was happening in my life. My husband was nervous and my incessant "is this really happening? I can't believe it" was not helping. The ring box (oh! there was a ring and everything!) was shiny mahogany, with black velvet inside, and the ring was this incredible jewel. He placed it on my trembling finger with clammy hands and I realized the importance of this symbol. The diamond, shiny and beautiful like our love, was the outward manifestation of our relationship. The strongest natural compound on a band of precious metal that would wear and attain a patina revealing its age and the age of our relationship. it would shout to the world, "I am taken, I am loved."

For weeks, as I caught a glimpse of the sparkle on my left hand, or found it caught in my hair (I've never been happier to have something caught in my hair) or saw someones eyes transfixed on it as they noticed it for the first time, I would overflow with joy. Before the madness of wedding planning, the first weeks of engagement are pure bliss.

Krysta, I am overjoyed for you. My happiness for you knows no bounds. I intend on helping and supporting you through the journey that is to come, but for now...just enjoy this moment. Enjoy every blissful moment.

One final thought: I am not a person who ever defines a moment in her life as "the best"--because I don't know what is to come. I always live as though the best is yet to come, whether or not I know what that is. As amazing as the beginning of the engagement is, have heart that a better moment is to come...the day you see a ring on your partner's hand. The joy you feel witnessing a ring on your own is momentous, but seeing a ring on his...I've never felt anything like it.

Tired and Uninspired

I haven't felt like writing lately...

(How many times have I started a post this way?)

But I have been making strides in other ways.

I have been working out, routinely, and with more effort than ever before. I am really seeing the results of this. I have also been practicing with my camera. This past weekend I took photos of my husband, and while he was quite unwilling, it was a good practice for me. I am trying to see my life differently. It is very close to a life that I would call ideal. Is close enough? I hope so. I think if we could focus on the positives we would discover that we have so much to appreciate.

I discovered this weekend that I am finally fulfilling a personal goal that I have been wanting to fulfill for years. I wanted to be the kind of person that sticks up for others, all the time, and the type of person who does not let ill things, spoken of others, go unnoticed. Several times lately I've caught myself standing up for what I believe in. I could have agreed with the person and forgotten about the situation, which is what I've done in the past. instead, I I voiced my disagreement aloud. It felt...wonderful.

The opportunity to improve myself is the greatest gift I've been given.

Getting there...

I may not ever reach "there." 

Perhaps we need to strive, continually, in order to have some sort of motivation. Personally, I've always just wanted to find out what "there" is, and then be there. Not knowing what I want to do with my life has been an endless frustration in getting "there." How will I know, if I don't even know what that place looks like?

For now, I am focusing on what I do know. And I know that I am proud of my first photo session for Korey Elizabeth Photography (which I may refer to as KEP--hey I work with engineers and we make acronyms for everything!) I feel positive that I could do something I love, if only part-time.  As for the rest? I'll figure it out, one day at a time.

Oh, after I plan myself a 25th birthday party and paint my nails...I'm getting there...

:)

I crave a new beginning

I had to check in with life, see how I was doing...and my current status is as follows:
-Marriage: Great. Really working well. We're communicating, having fun together, making solid plans for the future, and getting along.
-Family: Better, I think. Brother is in less pain, has a better outlook on life, grandma is happy, other grandma, aside from another injury, is doing well.
-Career: And here's where I take a long pause. Unfulfilling? I guess more accurately I feel as though I am not fitted for this job, and I am not doing the best that anyone else could do in this position. The residuals are fear, anxiety, guilt, and anger.

Stress slows down weight loss, weight loss which would normally really make me feel better. Overtime also prevents working out which naturally contributes to weight loss. So for now, I focus on the goals I know about. This weekend I'll celebrate my in-laws' 30th anniversary with a party and a hotel stay. Sunday I am taking my first official senior portrait session, and building my portfolio and business. I AM on my way, to something. I have to keep that in mind.

The good news is that, even on the worst day of this tough week, I was able to sit down to dinner and pray thanks for at least 12 things, right off of the top of my head. My gratitude did not go unnoticed by my husband, and I think, for the first time, he saw a potential in me to remain optimistic. Here's hoping...

New blog

I have a new blog. The decision was forged because I wanted to start over. I am in the process of gathering my thoughts, though. The new blog may become a photography blog, with this blog serving as my "writing" blog. Stay tuned and I'll let you know! For now, here's the new address: koreyo.blogspot.com.:)

Is there a good marriage?

I have been debating the idea of a good marriage for quite some time now. To begin with, I ask you to think for a moment. Close your eyes and try to picture a couple with a good marriage. Get the image of them in your mind, and then ask yourselves these questions: have they been married longer than 10 years? Is it a second marriage? Do you really know them all that well?

These are the things we use to disregard any relationship that can be viewed as a "good" one. The happiest marriages I knew, that of my high school best friend's parents, my grandparents, and another set of family members who I will not name, always rang out in my mind when I thought of what a marriage could be like. I would tell myself that a good marriage was possible, as evidenced by these happy examples. If I tried hard enough, and picked the right mate, I could have happiness like this. Unfortunately, my mind has systematically shut down each one of these shining examples. My grandparents had a beautiful marriage, but it was the second for both of them, and they had so little time together. Perhaps that makes it better, more beautiful somehow. The parents of my friend...I never knew them that well, so they may have a great marriage, but some of the better-looking relationships hide the darkest secrets. This point is evidenced by my family example. The marriage I saw as better than perfect has seemed to crumble upon closer inspection. I thought my parents' marriage was just...lacking. however, there is something comforting about knowing what one can expect, and not being taken by surprise. There are no ups and downs, and perhaps that is a good thing.

I wonder if there is such thing as a good marriage. I can't think of a single one but my own. Then again, I've only been married for 5 months. Will things fall apart? Can I truly believe that we will beat the odds, not only to stay together, but to stay happy? Or is it truly impossible?

My day of radioactivity

Tomorrow I am going to Orange Imaging to be radioactivized and then scanned. It will be a fun day where I go there at 9:00 and again at 4:00. First, I swallow a pill of radioactive iodine. Then I go home so as not to infect my co-workers. I return at 4:00 to be scanned by some sort of special camera. I will get up the next day (this I am not looking forward to), dress for work, get to Orange Imaging by 7:30 to be scanned a second time, and then go to work. Yay! I am hoping to get some answers out of this process. I have been feeling "not right" for years, and I have exhausted my resources trying to find out why. This seems like a step...in a direction...any direction, really.

In a strange twist of fate, I happened to mention to a co-worker that I would be out and what for. She started into a conversation about her own battles with hypothyroidism. Strangely, we had a lot in common. She told me the struggles that she and her sister have had in being diagnosed with something that they possess all the symptoms of, but something that goes unnoticed in blood work.

It's funny how life works that way. Just as I was about to tell myself that, after this test, I would ignore forever the feeling of "not good" and move on, I am given a ray of hope. My co-worker feels better. I might, too.

I'll let you know if I glow in the dark tomorrow...

Falling short of my goals

So I did not get out and take portraits this weekend. I did practice with my camera on plants and my dog, but no portraits. Why? Well, life got in the way, again, in the pesky way it has of messing things up. I just didn't have time. Honestly.

I did, however, set up to take senior portraits of a beautiful set of redheaded twins...

Sometimes I want to kick him

Having a husband is wonderful. He supports me, brings me back down to earth, lifts me up to see my potential, and makes me laugh--all at the same time. But, before we get carried away in romantic nonsense, I am going to admit that sometimes I really just want to kick him.

Don't feel bad if you feel the same way. It's only natural, or so I'm told.

Do what I do: Look him firmly in the eye and say, "I love you, but I don't like you right now." Smile. You've been honest, and it will get better. If he continues to bother you, you have my permission to pinch him.

Nightmares and Panic

Something is missing.

I have felt off for days.

The nightmares have gotten...inconvenient, to say the least. As I lay in bed this morning, heart pounding at the memories of my latest nightmare (it involved me throwing a drink on a man who said I was stupid, then trying to peel out in my old Montero, which stalled, oh--and I witnessed a stabbing). What is the point of all of this?

I also woke up in the middle of the night in a panic that I had forgotten to do something at work. The pressure, which I so skillfully avoid in my waking life, has been catching up with me in my sleep. I tried to will the bad thoughts from my mind, and they stuck, returning again and again as soon as I closed my eyes.

Today, I made a decision. I am getting outside and getting some shots with my camera tomorrow. I am going to return to my idea of starting a photography side business, but no weddings, simply portraits. Specifically families and children. Tomorrow. I am going to shoot in manual raw and edit them on Sunday. I am going to photograph my cousins and see if any of my aunts' friends are interested in having portraits taken. If I ever make money at this, I am going to buy the lens and flash that I have decided will be all I need for quite a while.

*Editor's note: My plan, if developed fully, somewhat murkily revolves around doing this full time and "quitting my day job" for a much less stressful life...but I have a feeling that's not going to go over well with the Mr.

:)

Name Change

I have had my name for my whole life.

I realize this is an obvious statement.
Have I had anything else my whole life? Not that I can think of.

My name has always explained me. My name=me. Who I am. Or who I was.

When we discussed the topic of women changing their names, years ago, I told my husband with confidence that I thought one person in the relationship should change their name. It is a unifying element. It defines the two you as a couple, a force to be reckoned with. Also, if you have children, it eliminates confusion. Johnny Smith's mom is Mrs. Smith, and so on. I also have this compulsion that, as a young mother, I would not want to be confused with the many unmarried mothers. Children of these mothers sport names that alter and confuse the family tree. Maternal names, or strange names of fathers they do not know. I want a name as a family unit.

When it came my time to change my own name, I hesitated. Who would I be? Who is Korey O? I never even figured out who Korey W was, and she no longer exists.

I traveled to the Social Security office, marriage license in hand, and I traded my short, easy to pronounce English surname for a harder to pronounce English surname.

I'm starting to get used to seeing my new name at work and on my emails, but I'll admit, I haven't changed my license or any bank or credit cards. I suppose I have one foot in the door of the "new me" and one foot still firmly planted in the past. And I'll get to it in my own due time.

New Blog

Welcome to my new blog.

I have to admit, the change was less inspired than necessary...the change I made to my email address made posting on the old blog, well, difficult. That said, I intend on writing more often and correcting past mistakes I've made as a blogger. Like labeling posts coherently. And following through wtih series that I begin.

Wish me luck.

Regaining a sense of self

There are things about me that I feel define me as a person. If you ask anyone who knows me, they would agree. If you looked around my house and in my closet, you'd also realize that there are things about me that define me. One of these things is the constant presence of books. I always have stacks of them on every open surface, waiting for me to continue reading them. For a while, I felt as though I had lost that side of me. I hadn't been reading very much, and I certainly hadn't been writing. I didn't think there was coincidence involved there. Lately, my favourite (yes, I am allowed to use UK spelling) hobby has returned, with a vengeance. Once again, my constant companion is a book. I take one with me each morning, in case my day involves any sort of unfilled time in which a book could be read, I take a book with me when I blow dry my hair, read during any solitary meals, keep it at my bedside in case I have a free half hour in the morning... you get the picture.

This Sunday, I woke up on my own schedule. I grabbed my latest obsession from the nightstand and read in bed. My ABSOLUTE favorite thing to do. I was on cloud nine. Nothing could spoil the perfection of that day. Not even when I switched to clip-in pedals on my bike and fell over in an empty parking lot within 30 seconds of trying them. 30 seconds. Not even when, in the midst of the family dinner I prepared at my house complete with home made onion rings, I realized I didn't have any ketchup, and my brother and dad threatened to leave. Oh no, pure bliss.

I feel as though I have reunited with an old friend. That beautiful, sunshiny feeling of relating to someone who you love so much. That person, who I had missed dearly, was me. Me - books = not me. I know that I just said I loved myself, and I'm not going to try and explain that one away. We should all love ourselves. I love the bookishness about me, because it's just who I am. And that is a beautiful thing.

What I miss the most

Sometimes being away lets you know how what you miss from home. My latest adventure in NYC was no different. It was an overwhelming mix of emotion and over stimulation of the senses. I'm sure I don't have to describe NYC. Suffice to say it's loud, busy, tall, colorful, smelly, fun, beautiful, scary, and inspirational, all rolled into one. I can tell you that my trip there was incredibly cold. I think it was the coldest weekend in the history of New York, ever. My face stung, my teeth hurt, my fingers burned, my hips ached. It was also emotional for me, and my exploration of the newest place my relationship with my best friend has taken us.

I haven't come up with a conclusion for this yet. Unlike the stories I write, there isn't going to be an ending on this post, there isn't an apparent conclusion at all. I have to think it through. I can react to the five days I spent there in different ways. I am grateful for the experiences I had, no matter what, whether they were positive or negative. I feel a shift occurring in my life. It's not that I fell in love with NYC and want to move there, discovering that I am unhappy in suburbia. I am not pondering a career or marriage change. I have just sensed an almost imperceptible shift in my life, thanks to this trip, and it's something I need to explore.

Ball and chain, on a pedestal

Two expressions, two ways of describing the male-female relationship, specifically in marriage. I don't like either.

The ball and chain is a horrible expression. Typically the wife is referred to as "the old ball and chain" as though she drags behind the husband, holding him back from where he wants to be. Ladies, we can also feel the pull of the ball and chain, so I would not restrict this one to the wives. I have thought of my relationship as a hindrance before. I've wondered if being married would hold me back from some greater purpose. But the truth is, being married, and being in a relationship in general, has actually lifted me in ways I could not have imagined.

I see my purpose and my goals through him, and our life together. It's an entirely new way of thinking. I see us as this team. We are not "one," but rather two individuals working toward a common purpose. Our goals and fears are aligned, and our separate talents and strengths help us to achieve our goals and defeat our fears.

Before I get carried away describing a marriage as teamwork, I must tell you that this "alignment of minds" has not, in any way, helped us play as a team in Pictionary. We still prefer to be on opposite teams. :)

Next we have the pedestal. It's a place many women would like to visit, and most of them who want to visit really love it, and want to move there. I am not one of those women. To quote Counting Crows, "you put your girl up on a pedestal, and wait for her to fall."

The pedestal idea, like the ball and chain, is another unequal and negative correlation. No one wants to be the ball and chain, and no one wants to be "off the pedestal." To be adored: it sounds fun and flattering, but it gets lonely up on that pedestal. You will crave an equal. Also, thanks to the Counting Crows, there is the reality of being held to too high a standard and disappointing the other. What you want is someone that sees and appreciates you for who you are. He or she does not feel held back by your presence or existence, nor does he or she feel worshipped and alone, held to impossibly high standards and about to fall from your good graces.

In reading The Shack, God discusses the relationships, modeled after His own with Jesus and Sarayu (the Holy Ghost), that He wants humans to emulate. It echoes none of the sexism that I find in the creation story: "Eve was created from man, she was second, she was created to serve man, she was created to keep him company..." Rather, God stresses the importance of equality and a complete lack of hierarchy. There is no hierarchy in a true relationship, only equal love and admiration.

You may be told at some point that it is always better when one person loves the other more. I have thought about this often. I can see it in other relationships, and I can see that it appears to work, but I promise you that it does not. It is cold in the shadow of another, and lonely on that pedestal. One person should not be "better" than the other. You should both have attractive strengths that balance and even out the relationship. Also, neither of you should be "boss." I know most feminists would agree with me, but this applies to men as well. You should never be subservient with your partner; that is not a "real" relationship.

Something to think about...

Marriage: The Series

I have decided to write a series on marriage, as I navigate the waters...

I am going to try and write at least one entry a week on a new, but related, topic. Hopefully these posts will be helpful to anyone who needs advice, or wonders, or is just interested. I also hope to make some sense out of this journey, and to complile my thoughts in a way that will help me measure our progress.