This may be the most sappy post I will ever write in my life. But first of all, why am I so sappiness-averse anyway? Why do I have this reluctance toward being all dreamy and swoony about being in love? Maybe I just don't want to be annoying. I mean, I do try to keep it real, though. I know my man isn't perfect, and Lord knows I certainly am not. But we're perfect for each other.
I do have this growing sense of feeling like I would get buck with a girl who tried to step to my guy, though. And I never imagined myself as a person capable of actually getting buck. Like, I might in my mind, or joke around saying what I would have said or what I would have done if someone had said or done whatever, but I'm feeling like I actually would let someone know that they needed to have a seat. About a month or so ago, I had a dream that a girl with long, dark, flowing hair sidled up to my fiancé and started giving him a back massage. And in the dream, I grabbed her hair, yanked her away from him and slammed her to the ground. The dream was so funny, because I would never do that, but it was also kind of scary because...would I do that?
I guess, if I had to boil things down to the essence of why I love him, it's because, generally speaking, he has this pure, straightforward sense about his intentions, what he wants, why he wants it and what he has to do in order to gain it. More specifically, I've been in past situations with guys where there was a screen of insecurity shrouding their intentions, or worse, there was a screen of ulterior motives enveloping their actions and words, or even worse, a combination of both. What I'm trying to say is that with him, there's been this openness that's made me feel secure. I feel like I've never had to guess. There's a consistency about him that's comforting and reassuring.
I'm beginning to grasp the idea that my happiness, my pleasure, my comfort, my well-being, is profoundly tied to someone else's. The idea that what he honestly wants is for me to be happy and that being assured of my happiness is what makes him happy is something amazing.
I feel like he gets that what I have to offer is unique. What I mean is that it's one thing to be admired, but quite another to be understood. I don't mean to say that he's a mind reader or something and "understands" every single thing about me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that he doesn't just recognize that what I have to offer and the qualities I have or whatever you want to call them are positive, desirable things, he also understands the value in them. A great enough value to want them to be a part of his life forever. He sees that they're worth commitment and acceptance.
I love him because he makes me feel like all of the things about myself that I feel insecure about are okay. Beautiful, even. It's okay that I cry a lot. It's okay that I overanalyze everything. My hair is beautiful. My skin is beautiful. He sees me in a way that makes me feel like just being who I am is enough.
Then, there are the ways that we fit. I love that we speak in Spanish to each other whenever we feel like it. I love that we play the guitar together and create songs and lyrics and harmonies together. I love that we go to church together and are involved in ministry together and both have a desire to grow spiritually. I love that we're both well-traveled and love exploring new places. I love that we love simple things: picnics, farmers markets, walks in the park, Spanish lattes by the window. I love that one of our favorite things to do is to watch Chopped and laugh.
And, of course, there are those little things about him. His dimpled smile, his freckles, his long eyelashes, the sound of his voice. His glasses, plaid shirts, clean-smelling cologne. The way he throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds when something really makes him laugh.
Finally, I love the way he loves me. Tenderly. He kisses my hand and my forehead and tells me that he loves me, that I'm beautiful, that he's so lucky, so blessed to have me.
I still can't believe I'm getting married. The idea is taking some getting used to. But I can say that I value so deeply what my fiancé and I have. We have so much to look forward to.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Monday, June 23, 2014
Hazy, Dazy, and Utterly Unmotivated
Yeah, so I have ALL of this stuff to do, but I'm spacing out. When I can least afford to.
1. After my summer class cancellation debacle, I (finally) have a job as a "Sellebrity" at Old Navy. It'll do. I get a 25% discount. But flip-flop day (this coming Saturday) is going to be off the chain. $1.00 flip-flops. And people go bananas.
2. I signed an agreement for my article to appear in a collection coming out soon! I'll probably still have to do a bunch of revisions, and even then, it could still get cut, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
3. I'm supposed to be writing a book review and have barely read the first chapter yet. Ugh. Jesus be a motivator.
4. I'm also supposed to be writing a DISSERTATION, people. How many chapters have I even begun to write yet? How many outlines have I lifted a finger to compose and send to my adviser? Ugh.
5. So, there's a wedding that's supposed to be happening. On May 16, 2015. My fiancé is super on top of planning. He created a Google Docs folder for us to have a guest list, a budget calculator, a place to keep lists of venues we're investigating, helpful links we've consulted, etc. He's done most of the legwork of calling and emailing regarding venues, etc. I'm so glad he's a planner. I'm a planner, too. Sometimes. What I like about him is that he's a consistent worker. If he has a deadline looming, he does a steady amount of work before the deadline, minimizing last-minute stress. What do I do? When I have a deadline looming, I procrastinate and do minimal work ahead of time, waiting for a last-minute burst of productivity to kick in and bring me across the finish line right before the deadline hits. Guess which way of getting stuff done is more conducive to wedding planning? Sigh. I will admit, though, I did create a profile on The Knot and have our little website in the works. (Which also has a checklist and other things as a part of the profile.)
I don't know why I'm not feeling giddy about wedding planning. I felt giddy when I got that ring on my finger, but I haven't been like, swooning over bridesmaid's dresses and flowers and whatever else brides-to-be ravish and rave over when planning their weddings. I have an awesome wedding dress story, so I'm glad that's pretty much already taken care of. We want it to be outside, the colors will definitely involve lavender, sunflowers will be prominently featured, and this song will serve as the recessional. Other than those details, I'm not super obsessing over stuff. I honestly wouldn't be heartbroken at all if we just went to a justice of the peace and called it a day. But lots of people who love me would kill me if I did that, and my fiancé isn't keen on doing that, either. So...ceremony it will be. I just get nervous about being on display. Let's be real, if a wedding is anything, it's the bride on display.
What I haven't decided upon yet is whether I'm going to put one of those dorky countdowns on my blog. I probably will. I'm a cynic with a soft spot for dorky, cheesy things like wedding countdowns.
Can I admit something, though? I am kind of excited about changing my plain jane last name. My current last name is the most common last name in the United States. My fiancé's last name is definitely unique and kind of awesome. As a student of literature, I'm kind of nerding out about the prospect of my last name being a poetic form. (And, no, it's not "haiku" or "sonnet." Although that would be awesome, too.)
6. Should I indulge my housewife fantasies and register with Williams-Sonoma? Every time I go into that store, I start having visions of being this perfect housewife who makes cooking show-quality dinners every night.
7. We already have a name for our first child. It's going to be a girl, and we talk about her as if she already exists. Like, I've already informed my fiancé that she will not be drinking any Kool-Aid or be allowed to eat horrible sugar-packed cereal like Cap'n Crunch.
8. I wish I could get paid for being a procrastinator. It's what I do best.
1. After my summer class cancellation debacle, I (finally) have a job as a "Sellebrity" at Old Navy. It'll do. I get a 25% discount. But flip-flop day (this coming Saturday) is going to be off the chain. $1.00 flip-flops. And people go bananas.
2. I signed an agreement for my article to appear in a collection coming out soon! I'll probably still have to do a bunch of revisions, and even then, it could still get cut, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
3. I'm supposed to be writing a book review and have barely read the first chapter yet. Ugh. Jesus be a motivator.
4. I'm also supposed to be writing a DISSERTATION, people. How many chapters have I even begun to write yet? How many outlines have I lifted a finger to compose and send to my adviser? Ugh.
5. So, there's a wedding that's supposed to be happening. On May 16, 2015. My fiancé is super on top of planning. He created a Google Docs folder for us to have a guest list, a budget calculator, a place to keep lists of venues we're investigating, helpful links we've consulted, etc. He's done most of the legwork of calling and emailing regarding venues, etc. I'm so glad he's a planner. I'm a planner, too. Sometimes. What I like about him is that he's a consistent worker. If he has a deadline looming, he does a steady amount of work before the deadline, minimizing last-minute stress. What do I do? When I have a deadline looming, I procrastinate and do minimal work ahead of time, waiting for a last-minute burst of productivity to kick in and bring me across the finish line right before the deadline hits. Guess which way of getting stuff done is more conducive to wedding planning? Sigh. I will admit, though, I did create a profile on The Knot and have our little website in the works. (Which also has a checklist and other things as a part of the profile.)
I don't know why I'm not feeling giddy about wedding planning. I felt giddy when I got that ring on my finger, but I haven't been like, swooning over bridesmaid's dresses and flowers and whatever else brides-to-be ravish and rave over when planning their weddings. I have an awesome wedding dress story, so I'm glad that's pretty much already taken care of. We want it to be outside, the colors will definitely involve lavender, sunflowers will be prominently featured, and this song will serve as the recessional. Other than those details, I'm not super obsessing over stuff. I honestly wouldn't be heartbroken at all if we just went to a justice of the peace and called it a day. But lots of people who love me would kill me if I did that, and my fiancé isn't keen on doing that, either. So...ceremony it will be. I just get nervous about being on display. Let's be real, if a wedding is anything, it's the bride on display.
What I haven't decided upon yet is whether I'm going to put one of those dorky countdowns on my blog. I probably will. I'm a cynic with a soft spot for dorky, cheesy things like wedding countdowns.
Can I admit something, though? I am kind of excited about changing my plain jane last name. My current last name is the most common last name in the United States. My fiancé's last name is definitely unique and kind of awesome. As a student of literature, I'm kind of nerding out about the prospect of my last name being a poetic form. (And, no, it's not "haiku" or "sonnet." Although that would be awesome, too.)
6. Should I indulge my housewife fantasies and register with Williams-Sonoma? Every time I go into that store, I start having visions of being this perfect housewife who makes cooking show-quality dinners every night.
7. We already have a name for our first child. It's going to be a girl, and we talk about her as if she already exists. Like, I've already informed my fiancé that she will not be drinking any Kool-Aid or be allowed to eat horrible sugar-packed cereal like Cap'n Crunch.
8. I wish I could get paid for being a procrastinator. It's what I do best.
Monday, June 16, 2014
My Proposal Poem or The Home Folks
So, this weekend, I finally brought my guy to meet the home folks.
You know who the home folks are. Those church/family folks. Those people who watched you grow up and whose kids you watched grow up. Those people who love you like their own and want to be in the know. The people who comfort and annoy you. Who laugh when you laugh, cry when you cry, and threaten to "come after" your significant other if he doesn't treat you right.
He held up quite all right. Even wore his graduation gift tie on Sunday and made his future mother-in-law smile from ear to ear. He passed the best friend test with flying colors over dinner. He fell in love with the park I've loved for years. He's the last boy I'll ever bring there, that's for sure.
Here's the poem he wrote for me and recited for me when he proposed. He later sent it to me, and I like to read over it, hearing his voice in my mind as I do:
Every morning when I count my blessings, I thank God that I can add you to the list
I thank God for His perfect plan to bring us together, for His perfect knowledge to know that we belong
together. I can’t wait to share my life with you
You have brought so much joy and happiness and purpose into my life, it’s hard to explain
It’s hard to explain how you fit, how you fit into all my days, how you fit
into my life how your heart sings perfect harmonies with mine, how we think the same thoughts at the exact same time
How we smile and laugh together, how I kiss your hand, sometimes it’s the simplest things
That give me the most gratitude, that give me the most joy
Everything that we share together, I cherish
I look forward to walking with you throughout this life, through our ups and downs I will be with you
To know that you’re not alone to know that I’m not alone, what a wonderful feeling
What a feeling of peace
I have never felt this free
Chantell Irene Smith,
Will you marry me?
You know who the home folks are. Those church/family folks. Those people who watched you grow up and whose kids you watched grow up. Those people who love you like their own and want to be in the know. The people who comfort and annoy you. Who laugh when you laugh, cry when you cry, and threaten to "come after" your significant other if he doesn't treat you right.
He held up quite all right. Even wore his graduation gift tie on Sunday and made his future mother-in-law smile from ear to ear. He passed the best friend test with flying colors over dinner. He fell in love with the park I've loved for years. He's the last boy I'll ever bring there, that's for sure.
Here's the poem he wrote for me and recited for me when he proposed. He later sent it to me, and I like to read over it, hearing his voice in my mind as I do:
Every morning when I count my blessings, I thank God that I can add you to the list
I thank God for His perfect plan to bring us together, for His perfect knowledge to know that we belong
together. I can’t wait to share my life with you
You have brought so much joy and happiness and purpose into my life, it’s hard to explain
It’s hard to explain how you fit, how you fit into all my days, how you fit
into my life how your heart sings perfect harmonies with mine, how we think the same thoughts at the exact same time
How we smile and laugh together, how I kiss your hand, sometimes it’s the simplest things
That give me the most gratitude, that give me the most joy
Everything that we share together, I cherish
I look forward to walking with you throughout this life, through our ups and downs I will be with you
To know that you’re not alone to know that I’m not alone, what a wonderful feeling
What a feeling of peace
I have never felt this free
Chantell Irene Smith,
Will you marry me?
Thursday, June 12, 2014
First Things First
So it's been a minute since I've blogged last. Well, not that long. A little over a week, I guess. But it seems like so much has happened since I'd blogged last, and indeed, it has.
First things first: I'm engaged!
Yezzir. Pretty soon I'm going to have to change my blog's little tagline from "Single girl meets postmodern world" to...something else. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.
Anyway, I'm further learning the ropes of "the questions." There are questions that are standard (and often annoying) at every point in life from well-meaning (or not) people:
1. Graduate from high school: Where are you going to college? What are you going to major in?
2. Declare a major: What do you plan to do with a _____ degree?
3. Graduate from college: Do you have a job?
4. Start a PhD program: How long is that going to take? What do you plan to do with a PhD?
5. Be single: Do you have a boyfriend?
6. Get a boyfriend: When are you getting engaged?
7. Get engaged: How did he propose? Have you set a date yet?
So that's where I am on this questions list. I heard that once the marriage actually happens, the question will become When are you having a baby? And after you have a baby, it becomes Are you planning to have any more? But again, we'll totally cross that bridge when we get there.
For now, I will answer one of the "get engaged" questions which is "How did he propose?" Ahem. My fiancé (omg, I still can't believe I'm even using that word!) thinks I start too early in the story, as in, I give too many unnecessary background details, starting with "My parents left around 11:30" (which I concede is wholly irrelevant to describing what he did to propose). He's like, "Just start with being in the garden." LOL. I know I always give a long preamble or exposition or what have you, but that's just how it's going to be. This ain't his blog. Shoot.
So, my parents had come to visit for the weekend. Fiancé had already met my mom (and little bro) but not dun, dun, DUN....my dad. So, parents arrive Thursday. Dad gets...fatherly. Fiancé takes it like a G. He asks to speak to my father outside. (I know, this is like an interracial Jane Austen novel or something) and as I later find out, he asks for my father's "blessing." My father heartily consents and they have an emotional bro moment. Friday is full of fun and Saturday, after we eat breakfast at the best breakfast place ever, my parents left around 11:30. We see them off. He goes back to his place. Later he suggests we get together to play the guitar in the garden. I agree. There's a garden we both love on campus that's near our department where we go to have picnics and play the guitar and stuff. He later comes to pick me up and he brings me a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, so I'm super happy and pumped. We arrive at the garden, go to our special spot. Play a few songs as usual, and then he asks if I want to hear a song he wrote for me. (This is the 2nd love song he's written for me...actually the 3rd he's written about our relationship.) He plays and sings it and it's absolutely beautiful. Then he tells me that he wrote a poem for me when I was in Boston and asks if I want to hear it. Of course I do! He even has music to accompany it. So, he turns on the little music he has on his iPhone, gets up, and begins reciting this AMAZING poem. I start tearing up a little bit because it's so profound and beautiful. Then he gets to the end. The last two lines are, "I have never felt this free / Chantell Irene Smith, will you marry me?" And before I know it, he's on one knee with a ring out.
I completely lose it. I say "yes" and burst into tears, crying quite audibly and just overwhelmingly laugh/crying because I don't know what to do with myself. I mean, I knew he was going to ask, especially after meeting my father and getting his approval, but I didn't know it was going to be that soon afterward! The first thing we did was call our family and close friends to tell them. Afterward, we had a lovely candlelit dinner outside. It was perfect.
Later, we got the ring re-sized, and just out of curiosity, I asked him how long he had had the ring before proposing. He told me he had held on to that thing without giving away one clue for a month and a half! Dude was sitting on the ring that entire time! He was just waiting for the right time. I thought back on my behavior over the last month and a half and I joked with him asking if he had ever felt like taking the ring back. He said absolutely not. And I am glad of that.
First things first: I'm engaged!
Yezzir. Pretty soon I'm going to have to change my blog's little tagline from "Single girl meets postmodern world" to...something else. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.
Anyway, I'm further learning the ropes of "the questions." There are questions that are standard (and often annoying) at every point in life from well-meaning (or not) people:
1. Graduate from high school: Where are you going to college? What are you going to major in?
2. Declare a major: What do you plan to do with a _____ degree?
3. Graduate from college: Do you have a job?
4. Start a PhD program: How long is that going to take? What do you plan to do with a PhD?
5. Be single: Do you have a boyfriend?
6. Get a boyfriend: When are you getting engaged?
7. Get engaged: How did he propose? Have you set a date yet?
So that's where I am on this questions list. I heard that once the marriage actually happens, the question will become When are you having a baby? And after you have a baby, it becomes Are you planning to have any more? But again, we'll totally cross that bridge when we get there.
For now, I will answer one of the "get engaged" questions which is "How did he propose?" Ahem. My fiancé (omg, I still can't believe I'm even using that word!) thinks I start too early in the story, as in, I give too many unnecessary background details, starting with "My parents left around 11:30" (which I concede is wholly irrelevant to describing what he did to propose). He's like, "Just start with being in the garden." LOL. I know I always give a long preamble or exposition or what have you, but that's just how it's going to be. This ain't his blog. Shoot.
So, my parents had come to visit for the weekend. Fiancé had already met my mom (and little bro) but not dun, dun, DUN....my dad. So, parents arrive Thursday. Dad gets...fatherly. Fiancé takes it like a G. He asks to speak to my father outside. (I know, this is like an interracial Jane Austen novel or something) and as I later find out, he asks for my father's "blessing." My father heartily consents and they have an emotional bro moment. Friday is full of fun and Saturday, after we eat breakfast at the best breakfast place ever, my parents left around 11:30. We see them off. He goes back to his place. Later he suggests we get together to play the guitar in the garden. I agree. There's a garden we both love on campus that's near our department where we go to have picnics and play the guitar and stuff. He later comes to pick me up and he brings me a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, so I'm super happy and pumped. We arrive at the garden, go to our special spot. Play a few songs as usual, and then he asks if I want to hear a song he wrote for me. (This is the 2nd love song he's written for me...actually the 3rd he's written about our relationship.) He plays and sings it and it's absolutely beautiful. Then he tells me that he wrote a poem for me when I was in Boston and asks if I want to hear it. Of course I do! He even has music to accompany it. So, he turns on the little music he has on his iPhone, gets up, and begins reciting this AMAZING poem. I start tearing up a little bit because it's so profound and beautiful. Then he gets to the end. The last two lines are, "I have never felt this free / Chantell Irene Smith, will you marry me?" And before I know it, he's on one knee with a ring out.
I completely lose it. I say "yes" and burst into tears, crying quite audibly and just overwhelmingly laugh/crying because I don't know what to do with myself. I mean, I knew he was going to ask, especially after meeting my father and getting his approval, but I didn't know it was going to be that soon afterward! The first thing we did was call our family and close friends to tell them. Afterward, we had a lovely candlelit dinner outside. It was perfect.
Later, we got the ring re-sized, and just out of curiosity, I asked him how long he had had the ring before proposing. He told me he had held on to that thing without giving away one clue for a month and a half! Dude was sitting on the ring that entire time! He was just waiting for the right time. I thought back on my behavior over the last month and a half and I joked with him asking if he had ever felt like taking the ring back. He said absolutely not. And I am glad of that.
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
C'est la vie.
La vie. It happens. Yup, it sho does.
So, I get back from Boston on Saturday, have a sappy movie-quality reunion with my boyfriend at the airport, (you know the kind, first it shows the guy waiting expectantly, then it cuts to the girl who has a dreamy smile on her face riding up the escalator, then it cuts back to the guy who is searching faces in the rush of people getting off the escalator and then he breaks into a smile when he spots her, and then it cuts to them rushing into each others' arms), all giddy with my Harvard t-shirt on and everything. Go to THE BEST vegetarian restaurant in this world, then settle down to watch a foreign film, but I check my email first. And this is where la vie comes in:
Hi everyone,
Regretfully, it appears as though I am going to have to cancel the following summer courses to which you have been assigned, due to insufficient enrollments:
FREN 3030 (52705)
ITAL 2001 (12703)
SPAN 1001 (52817)
SPAN 1002 (12815)
SPAN 2002 (22824)
Unless something miraculous happens with enrollments over the weekend, I will cancel these classes at noon on Monday.
I truly am sorry,
The Department Head
Whaaaaaatttttt?? That SPAN 1001? Yeah, that was me. And canceled summer class = cancelled summer $$.
So, basically, you tell me Saturday that my class that was supposed to start the following Thursday is going to be canceled on Monday. Craptastic.
So what does that mean? That I'm going to have to find a summer job in JUNE (talk about awkward timing), that I'm probably going to have to take out more loans (ugh, shoot me), and that my little happy summer dream of being able to save up a little dough has been ruthlessly dashed.
I let a couple of gangsta tears slip out. I did. I ain't gonna lie.
But it's all good in the hood. I am currently on an apply-for-anything-that-moves job search, and I'm going to take this interim to be productive with other projects. A book review and *coughwritingmydissertationcough* for starters.
Sigh. The most apropos cliche for this situation would be "You never know, God might have something better." And like other cliches that have been oft applied to my life (i.e. "It happens when you're not looking"), sometimes they hold true. You really never know.
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