I spent most of my workday yesterday in contemplation. First: contemplation of being single in the church, and the particular ways in which that gets rough. Aside from 4 months in 2007, I’ve been single for 10 years (ie, the entirety of my adult life, starting at age 18); I’m not sure where to look for a spouse since all the guys at church are married. The church doesn’t know what to tell me, which makes both my faith walk and my single life that much more difficult.
Then: contemplation of beauty and being beautiful, thanks to a blog post from a college acquaintance. She essentially said “The things that make me feel beautiful are the things that make me feel strong/healthy/competent/smart/etc; they rarely make me appear beautiful.” Which is great for her, I guess, but…well, it’s not the same for me. If I feel healthy, I feel healthy; if smart, then smart. It doesn’t magically translate into feeling beautiful, because those concepts are just different things.
…unsurprisingly, I rarely (if ever) feel beautiful. I try not to harp on that, but I’ve said it before and it remains the case.
So then that got me thinking about women in the media (made-up and arranged by experts, dressed by different experts and a lot of money, photoshopped into unreality) and movies (again, chosen for their appearance to start with, then dressed and arranged and painted by experts with money earmarked for the purpose). Even the “average” girls in movies are made to look beautiful, which leaves one wondering whether there exists a movie about an actual average person. Which got me reading a post about how passion and competence can render an average man more attractive to the masses but more rarely does so for average women; a different post about Nia Vardalos (of My Big Fat Greek Wedding) writing her own scripts for that reason; and one last post about how girls don’t feel comfortable with a “higher-league” guy unless there’s very clearly something else wrong with him.
In the afternoon, my brother shared this op-ed about medicating women’s feelings with me, interested to know my thoughts. Which I wrote out for him (shan’t do so here, unless someone’s interested, because it got lengthy), in between looking at the price of plane flights to attend some weddings this year. I had planned to split the cost of a hotel next month with two friends, but they’ve both backed out, and the flight alone would run $600-800, which is a big chunk of my travel budget. The flight to a different wedding in August (one I’m actually in, for a friend I’ve seen way more often the past few years) will be $500, and I don’t know how much the hotel will be just yet.
After I got home and had dinner, I got an e-mail from a friend. Said friend married the guy I was enamored with for years (I’m getting over it, but not as rapidly as they’re sprinting through life milestones: they got engaged last March and married last May) and just gave birth to their firstborn last Friday.
It’s like the day was one big circle. I’m just getting exhausted by other people’s milestones and the celebration thereof. What I really need is a good cry, but I was too numb for that. So I went to bed at 9:30.