Fifty Shades of Crazy

This past Wednesday, I was browsing online and wandered across an article on Entertainment Weekly that was talking about popular books being made into movies. It had a picture of the Hunger Games on it, so I clicked on it in mild curiosity. As I browsed down the books listed, I came upon a title I’d never heard of; Fifty Shades of Grey. Hmmm, intriguing title . . . kind of mysterious. Instead of finishing the article, I looked it up on Goodreads, wanting to see some reviews. It had a lot of polarizing reviews, and I decided to read the description.

As I read through the summary, this thought went through my head . . . “What the heck????”

Basically, this book is about a young, innocent college student who falls for a wealthy entrepreneur with unusual sexual proclivities. This book is categorized as erotica. Yep, erotica is on the NYT’s bestsellers list for paperbacks and ebooks.

Seriously??

Wait, it gets better.

This book was written by a woman who writes fan fiction. She finds a book that she loves and decides to write her own little fantasy story using either the world, the characters, or the theme, and taking it on her own merry little ride. In general, I find fan fiction pretty harmless. It’s the same thing as those lame videos you see on YouTube where they try and make videos out of books and patch together scenes from random movies to make a trailer. Yes, very lame. But pretty harmless. In this case, the author created fan fiction (titled Master of the Universe) based on the Twilight novel characters. Granted, she completely changed the basic story line, which involves vampires and werewolves. Instead, she makes Edward into a hot millionaire named Christian who enjoys whips and domination and Bella is an uninteresting, meek college student named Ana who completely falls for him . . . okay, that part is mostly the same.

So, this author wrote MOTU and it got rave reviews from readers of fan fiction. With such a glowing response, she decided to publish it as her own book, Fifty Shades of Grey, by changing the character names, places and a few other details.

Seriously??

According to software produced to prevent plagiarism in schools, FSOG is 89% the same as MOTU. Yep, 89% the same as a piece of work that she wrote as fan fiction and published online for free. You can now buy the ebook version for $9.99 online.

Don’t get me wrong, the Twilight series wasn’t some great work of literary expertise, but if I was Stephanie Meyers, I’d be outraged. Not only did she take her very pure, chaste characters and turn them into sex maniacs, but she had her characters in mind the whole time she was originally writing. If that isn’t a breach of intellectual property, I don’t know what is. And because these books (oh yes, it’s a trilogy) are becoming so wildly popular, they’re also making a movie out of it. Which means that every genius who’s ever written ridiculous fan fiction is suddenly going to have an “inspiration” to write their “own” book. Unbelievable.

I’d just like to add a disclaimer that I have not read Fifty Shades of Grey, nor do I intend to. I’m not a book snob; I’ll read almost anything, especially if someone recommends it to me. But I won’t curb my curiosity in the mania by supporting an author that was too lazy to develop her own characters. Sorry if that sounds harsh, it’s just my opinion. Any thoughts from my book-loving friends? Speak up in opposition, I’d love other viewpoints, especially from a legal standpoint:)

The Worst Thing?

Have you ever absently thought to yourself “Ugh, that’s the worst thing ever” over something fairly trivial?

For instance, yesterday I was snacking on a mandarin orange. I laboriously pulled off the stubborn peel and remarked inwardly that it was a pain. Then after all that work, I bit into the first piece and crunched down on a seed. End of the world. I hate seeds in mandarin oranges. I muttered darkly under my breath and began to fish the pesky seeds out. I even said, with exasperation, “Seeds in mandarins are the worst thing ever.” It only took me about two minutes of eating delicious, fragrant sections of mandarin to realize what a monumentally stupid thing I’d just said.

In some parts of the world, I imagine that people would fight over even the seeds of the mandarin. They’d probably eat the peel as well. I see those pictures of starving children and I know the worst things in my life wouldn’t even register on the scale of what they deal with every day. I have disappointments in my life; frustration, pain, sadness, concerns, etc. But I have an overabundance of blessings in my life as well.

I have never missed a meal because there was no food available. If I get hungry, I can walk across the street to the fancy grocery store and buy almost any food I can imagine. If I’m too lazy to walk, there is plenty of food to sustain me in my pantry and fridge. If I got sick in any way, there are two Urgent Care/Clinic’s just across the street. If I had an emergency, I could get to a hospital in about 5 minutes. I live in a beautiful apartment, with hot water readily available, a washer/dryer to clean my clothes, and a closet overfull of garments to choose from. I have a sturdy lock on my door and security that drives around the complex at night. I never have to fear for my safety. I have my own car to transport myself places. I have a very secure job that enables me to provide for myself. I have a loving family that checks in with me on a very regular basis. I have wonderful friends that love and support me. I have a church family that welcomes and includes me. I have a God who never, ever leaves me.

I have everything.

Our thoughts are powerful things. They have the ability to control our emotions and outlook on life. All too often, I allow my thoughts to lead me to a place of pettiness and discontent. I allow greed, jealousy, and apathy to take over.

I don’t want to be that person, and I believe we can find the strength to control our thoughts. I believe in a God who can help me to focus on the blessings in my life.

So during the holidays this year, I’m going to challenge myself to focus on the good and let it outweigh any negative. If we find ourselves focusing on the gift we didn’t get, the family crisis we’re in the middle of, the exhaustion of all the events, the shrinking bank account, the loneliness and the frustrations, how will we have time to focus on all the beauty and joy in life?

Solitude

Some people can't be alone. They thrive on the presence of others, the interaction with people. They crave daily connection. Without the near constant closeness of other people, they become depressed and horribly lonely.

I am not one of those people.

Over the past 4 years, I've slowly realized that I crave solitude. After going through a period of time where I did very little to nurture myself, I was suddenly struck by an overwhelming need to burrow inward and become reacquainted with myself. What developed over the 4 years was about 2 years of soul-searching and a realization of a lot of flaws. A lot of flaws. I spent much of my time in a personal daze, going over my mistakes and the things about myself that I didn't like. When you spend most of your time by yourself, you find plenty of things that could use improvement. Of course, all of this self-reflection could have ended in poor self-esteem and depression . . . and it was leaning that way for awhile.

But then, at a certain point, I realized that I could change. I was not stuck being the person that I'd become. My flaws were not permanent. I could change. Not everything of course, no one is perfect and chasing perfection is ridiculous. But I could improve. I could become a better, happier person. A stronger person.

So, for the past two years, I've made a lot of changes. I wanted to be healthier. I wanted to find a place that felt like home. I wanted to become a better friend. I wanted to become a kinder, more compassionate person. I wanted to seek an honest relationship with God. I wanted to become the sort of person that the right someone could fall in love with someday. I wanted to seek out genuine people and be more genuine myself. I wanted to find adventure in my life.

As far as goals go, these are all pretty ambitious. I've made leaps and bounds in improving some, and struggled desperately with others. But throughout it all, my greatest tool and greatest weakness has been the solitude.

Solitude is a strength and a crutch. If you know yourself well, you are stronger and more capable of handling the pressures of life. But if you isolate yourself from others in an attempt at self-preservation, you can't grow. It is a fine line, and one I find myself struggling with lately. The calmest points in my life are when I am alone; it's how I recharge and center myself. But we were not created to spend all of our time alone. Even the most solitary of individuals craves connection with others. I'm certainly no exception and there are many times that the solitude becomes more of a burden than a reprieve. I'm not complaining; being alone has brought me to a better place in my life than I've been in a long time.

I suppose tonight I'm wondering about other perspectives on solitude. I'm wondering if my friends/family who read my blog have any insight on the part that solitude has played in their lives. Or maybe tonight I'm simply seeking connection.

The Ebb and the Flow

Have you ever stood on the beach, with your bare feet planted in the water? The waves rush toward you, and then inexorably pull back away, while you stay put, watching the movement going on around you. You can feel the sand giving way underneath the sides of your feet, feel the water streaming away from your toes. Sometimes my life feels like that, the ebb and the flow. Sometimes life rushes at me, overwhelming me with all the beauty and intensity that it brings. And then there are times when I stand planted, and life rushes back past me. I see life taking place around me, but I'm rooted in one spot.

Have you ever been stuck in a rut before? You're living life and maybe even living it well, but you aren't living it deeply and bravely. You don't even realize that you're in a rut until something wakes you up and throws you off track. All it takes is a moment, a song, an experience, a conversation, a feeling, a prayer, a breaking point, a realization that you've been a little adrift . . . and a little fragile. Suddenly the patterns in your life seem small. You can't just fall back into the routine, because now you're awake and aware of yourself again.

I've had this awakening experience over and over in my life. I'm a creature of habit. I find a comfort zone and nestle into it, patting myself on the back for navigating the rough waters of life so safely. But I don't look back on the drifting moments of my life with clarity. I remember the times when I woke up and lived my life; scary, complicated, glorious, ugly, frustrating, intense, loving, beautiful, and frenetic. Some of the best moments of my life were also nerve-wracking and complicated . . . but I lived them.

God doesn't want me to live a lukewarm, safe, complacent life. He doesn't want me to stand in the waves of life and let experiences rush past me. I believe that He wants me to trust Him and leap. This isn't the first time He's had to wake me up and tell me so, and I imagine it won't be the last. Life can be an incredibly beautiful adventure when God is at your side.

The magic of Christmas

Today I was sitting at my desk, working on a complicated spreadsheet, feeling frustrated by my self-perceived ineptitude, and basically just wrestling with an overall sense of grumpiness. Not my usual attitude (or at least I hope not!). In an attempt to banish my irritated mood, I decided to listen to some music. But nothing seemed right, it was all either too happy, too spirited, too depressing, etc. Nothing fit.

A lightbulb suddenly went off. Christmas music. I could listen to Christmas music. It's a whole six days after Thanksgiving, way past the acceptable Christmas music deadline. And yet there's been no Christmas music for me yet. No tree, no decorating, no . . . nothing.

This is very, very (very!!) unusual for me. I've always been a bit of a Christmas nut. My parents once bought me tons of Christmas lights for my birthday and I was ecstatic to decorate the outside of our house with them. I was always the first to beg to get the decorations out of storage and put them up. I pester my family about being scrooges and putting off getting a tree. I always push the envelope of the Christmas season, wanting it to start a little earlier. To me, Christmas has always been a bit of a magical time . . . the music, the lights, the luminescent ornaments, the scent of the tree, the spirit of giving, the anticipation, the time with family . . . it all added up to my favorite time of year. A time for magic.

But for some reason, this year, I haven't felt it. The wonderment . . . the anticipation . . . the magic. Part of me wonders if I've outgrown it. If, at the advanced age of 29, part of my child-like joy in Christmas has faded to a recognition that it's just another time of year, and a busy/expensive one at that. It made me feel a bit sad, like I'd grown up and grown past my love of Christmas. Goodbye happy-go-lucky, Christmas fanatic, fanciful Dacia . . . Hello grown-up, prosaic, Scroogy Dacia. Well, that just won't do!

So, on went the Christmas music. Two songs in, I started to feel like maybe it wasn't such an impractical decision to put up a tree for 3 weeks. Then I thought it might be fun to take a drive some evening and look at Christmas lights with some peppermint hot chocolate. And, oh, I should really put my Christmas playlist back on my phone so I can listen to the songs I like in the car . . .

And just like that, mood uplifted . . . I suppose there is something rather magical about Christmas after all, isn't there?

Take a walk

This morning I went for a walk, in spite of the fact that it was crazy, bone-chillingly cold outside and I spent the first 10 minutes hacking up a lung breathing in the cold air. But the day was clear and it's getting very close to that time of year when you forget what color the sky should be. As I dragged myself up the icy, mossy hill, I had a whirl of thoughts going through my mind. This is usually part of why I take walks, because from the time I leave to the time I return, whatever I had spinning around in my head has usually centered itself and I feel calm. I know a lot of people exercise to enjoy those endorphins, but I seem to be the odd duck that goes for long walks in an attempt to find a place of peace. But it wasn't always that way.


The walking for me only began about a year and a half ago, and at the time, I was so out of shape that I had to make frequent stops mid-hill, desperately wheezing, searching for air, and certain I was going to die of a heart-attack. But I was determined, always, to make it to the top. There were a lot of days that I almost gave up. I was tired, it was raining, my body hurt, I wanted to go back, I wanted to quit. I don't remember the exact days when the breathing got easier, and the stops became less frequent, but I do remember the day when I realized I'd made it to the top of the hill without stopping once, and that I wasn't breathing hard at all. It was a windy day, I remember this, because the tears that sprang to my eyes at the realization were getting whipped across my face in the wind. It wasn't the proudest moment of my life, but it was very profound. It made me realize that I was truly strong enough to accomplish something, if I made the decision to do it. No one had helped me get up the hill, no one had ordered me to do so, no one was with me at all. Well, maybe not no one.


I remember getting to a place in my life of feeling entirely alone, and then, at the lowest, darkest moment, crying out to God that I had nothing. I can only imagine how He must have felt when He replied "You've always had Me." It's easy to get caught up in what you don't have and forget that you have the greatest gift of all; perfect love.


I believe that God gave me the gift of walking in my life. It may sound a bit silly to say so, but I truly know it's what I needed, and I didn't come up with the idea on my own, that's for sure. Every day, I had just enough energy to force myself to change after work, head out the door, and start the walk. And once you start, it becomes exactly what you need. I would stick my headphones in and head out to the tunes of my favorite Christian artists. I know that seems a bit monotonous to listen to every day, but it was all part of my motivation. And on that day when I finally was able to reach the top without stopping, these were the lyrics I heard, "I lift my eyes unto the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth". It wasn't an accomplishment of mine alone, God knew I needed a triumph in my life and He helped me to find it.


This morning I reached the top of the hill and stared out at the perfectly clear day, my mind clear and my doubts and worries back where they belong . . . in God's hands.

Missing the music

My mom is a piano teacher. 


Let me rephrase that. My mom is a phenomenal piano teacher. She works a lot with special needs children. She teaches students that other people can't, and she doesn't have formal training. I think God gifted her with the ability to reach children through music, to work with each individual student to find the way they can learn best. I admire her hugely.


She also taught me, ungrateful wretch that I was! I took lessons from her from 1st grade till a little after I graduated from 8th. It was a fairly frustrating experience for both of us:) My poor mother, after a full day of listening to her students butcher and blunder their way through their lessons, she had to listen to my brother and I practice in the evenings. And poor us, we had to listen to her clap out the rhythm upstairs in the kitchen and yell down at us when we were doing it wrong. It was a frustrating experience for everyone.


Yet somewhere in the midst of all that, I found myself enjoying the music I was playing. Probably right around the time I could sit down and play an actual song. It was . . . relaxing. It helped me release my emotions.


I grew up with the sound of the piano almost continually in the house. It was either horrific (the little beginners), wince-inducing (intermediate), or fun (advanced students). And then there was the music when my mom practiced. I remember snickering when I'd hear her shriek in frustration over a section that wasn't coming together. I remember smiling faintly in the back of my mind when she played a song I particularly liked. But I especially remember her practicing on Sabbath morning as I dreamily woke up. It almost felt like she was welcoming the Sabbath into our home with beautiful music. I still love it when she's playing on Sabbath morning when I visit home, it feels like I've stepped back in time.


I play the piano only rarely nowadays. I don't own a piano and really only get the opportunity when I visit my mom (and her 3 piano's!). But every time my fingertips touch the keys of the piano I learned to play on, I feel transported. My fingers move in a way I can't explain, they pick up the muscle memory without complaint. I'm not particularly good, but there are certain songs I can play with ease that fill me with beauty and memories.


Tonight I'm missing the music. I wish I could sit down at the piano and get lost for awhile. I'm listening to some beautiful music and typing, but it's not quite the same. It's a gift that I'll always appreciate though, the gift of music that my mom gave me.