Sunday, September 28, 2014

Day Fourteen: Can We Talk About Sex?

Sometimes I wish the church would be more willing to talk about sex.

I tried a church tonight that I had never been to, and they “advertised” that they were going to do a series on sex. Tonight, the particular subject was supposed to be being a single woman.

I got excited.

And yet, even in a sermon about sex, the word sex was never once uttered.

Maybe I’m just strange for wanting to talk about sex in church. Maybe I’m the only one who wants to hear a sermon about appropriate relationships between boys and girls.

But I kind of think no.

I went to a Christian college where the taboo on sex felt extreme. The Ring By Spring thing felt more like a way to let couples have sex – hurry and get married because couples can’t be expected to control their hormones, but sex outside of marriage is not to even be questioned.


I want to make this clear: I believe in sex being a part of marriage and only in marriage. I firmly believe in making a public commitment to share my life with a man in front of God and those I love, and then showing this man my commitment to him through trusting him with my body.

But I would like to talk about this in church. I would like to talk about how lust is a real and strong thing, how we should handle the whole thought of “We can’t have sex but” that a lot of Christians think, how we should deal with temptation within friendship.

So I was excited to hear this pastor talk about sex in the context of single women. Because I’m a single woman, and this is an important topic.

Don’t get me wrong; this sermon was great, and the pastor said a lot of great things that I’m so glad I was there to hear.

But it wasn’t about sex.

I’m just confused why we as followers of Christ seem to never ever talk about sex. Why is that?

I love the verse in the Bible that says our bodies should be a temple of God. This verse to me is not talked about enough. There are so many wonderful things about this concept: Thinking about how we eat, how we rest, how we interact with others, how we punish or reward our bodies. How we have sex.

We as a church are the full body of Christ. We live in community with each other. We share our lives with each other. Shouldn’t we be willing to talk about all aspects of life, even if it makes us a little uncomfortable? Shouldn’t we love each other enough to talk about the nitty gritty, to be willing to go there?


That’s all.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Day Thirteen: All Right

Day Thirteen. I decided I needed to listen to those wonderful kids of Bastille while I worked out today, and watched the following video by them. Which sparked all kinds of emotions inside and made me get that writing itch.

Which, if you're wondering, is the greatest feeling - to me at least - of all time.




Jeffrey was exhausted.

But then he was always exhausted.

Nothing new there.

He knew when he signed up to be a detective on homicide cases that he was really signing up for permanent exhaustion.

What he didn't know he'd be signing up for was the loneliness.

He had always been odd, always preferred to stay away from most people to avoid their wrinkled brows and sniffs of disapproval.

But this kind of loneliness was new to him.

He knew he should be used to death as well. Nothing really shocked him anymore, but the more death he saw, the more innocent girls he saw beaten to death by their boyfriends, the more mothers he saw killed in cold blood by their children, the more gang stabbings or car crashes he saw, the more he questioned everything, including himself.

Until.

"Can I help you find a book, or were you just browsing? Browse away if that's what you were doing, I mean. Browsing is always a good way to find new books. I love browsing. But, you know, you just also looked like maybe you were a little lost."

Jeffrey looked up, slightly dazed. He hadn't been paying a bit of attention, just going from bookshelf to bookshelf, barely even seeing the titles.

But now he blinked, trying to process the girl in front of him.

She was the most peaceful looking girl he had ever seen.

Her face was simple, her clothes neat and pressed, her shoes practical, her hair nothing to speak of.

But her lips formed a beautiful, breathtaking smile. And her eyes radiated love.

Jeffrey felt like he could breathe deeply again without coughing up the muck of the world afterwards. He felt like he could be all right.

"What would you recommend?" he asked, smiling back at the girl.

She studied him for a few moments, not saying anything, just studying him, cocking her head to one side, the smile never leaving her mouth.

"To Kill A Mockingbird," she finally said.

Jeffrey couldn't help but laugh. He hadn't expected her to actually come up with a book. "Why that one?" he replied.

"You look like you could use a profound read," she began. "Something that makes you want to underline every other sentence. Something funny and lighthearted at times, but has a depth that almost takes you by surprise. Just what I got from your eyes."

Jeffrey smiled and breathed deeply again. He liked this girl.

"All right then," he said. "I'll read it on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Tell me who you are."

The girl smiled richly, then chuckled. "How much time do you have?"

"All of it," Jeffrey answered, smiling again. The girl's smile was contagious. He stuck out his hand, saying, "I'm Jeff."

"Jeff," she repeated, taking his hand gently in both of hers, stepping closer to him. "I'm Cesi. And it is  a pleasure to meet you. Now let's get you that book."

Instead of just taking him over to the right section, Cesi dropped his hand and held it in hers, walking ahead of him to the right section, the whole time still holding his hand.

And somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

When they got to the right section, Cesi still didn't let go of his hand. Instead, she held it up to the right spot on the bookshelf, guiding his hand over the book, pulling it out, then placing it in his hand, folding his fingers over the cover.

"There," she said gently.

Jeffrey swallowed before looking up and into Cesi's eyes.

Those beautiful, peaceful eyes.

"Would you like to talk about it? You know, once I finish it?"

Cesi's whole face broke into a smile. "I would love to."

Jeffrey closed his eyes and breathed deeply again.

He would be all right.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Day Twelve: The Foxy Jeff Goldblum Meeting

Did you know Jeff Goldblum is 61, and engaged to a girl who is 30?

I'm going to pretend he's still 39 and single like in the good old days of Jurassic Park.

One time I wrote this funny little thing about meeting Benedict Cumberbatch on a plane. It was fun to write. I got into a conversation about Jurassic Park and Jeff Goldblum the other day and then couldn't stop thinking about how much I love Jeff Goldblum.

I mean.



He is wonderful.

And this is how I'm going to meet him. I mean, meet his 39 year old single self.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply twice before opening the door.

didn’t want to be at this party.

Kristen had invited me, and I knew I couldn’t really say no. I hadn’t been out to a party in months, and, as Kristen kept reminding me, I needed to get back out there.

I just really didn’t feel like it.

But I had told myself to suck it up, picked out my cutest but comfy outfit, actually managed to make my hair work and look halfway descent, and even put on a little makeup.

I felt pretty.

But what I really wanted to feel was my down blanket against my skin as I cuddled up in bed with another season of Parks And Recreation. 

Instead, I plastered on a smile and dutifully remarked on the gossip of the hour and who was going to be in what movie and who was dating who and all the other trivial things people seemed to always want to talk about at parties like this.

After twenty minutes of making the rounds, saying hello to all the right people and getting introduced to a few who would forget my name the minute I walked away, I finally managed to make it over to the bar, grab a water bottle and a plate of pretzels and veggies with dip, and looked around for an escape route.

Spotting a rather large plant in the far corner of the room next to some stairs, I made my way over and perched a little behind the plant, enjoying my snacks and people watching. This felt like the correct way to attend a party in my book.

“Well, I hate you.”

I was jerked out of my people watching doze at the abrupt comment and looked to my right, ready to make a snarky remark back, when I stopped with my mouth hanging open.

Standing before me with a cocky smile playing on his lips was Jeff Goldblum.

“Um, pardon?” I finally managed to get out after the initial celebrity shock subsided.

“You’ve found the perfect party spot. Next to the plant, no one can see you really but you can see everyone. It’s like the introverts’ paradise, and I hate you for stealing it from me. Finding the perfect hiding place at parties is my thing, and I’m not going to let some gorgeous girl steal that from me.”

“Dear oh dear,” I began, gathering my wits around me once again. “Whatever are we to do about this conundrum?”

“Have any suggestions?” The cocky smile was still playing on his lips.

“We could fight to the death for it, I suppose.”

“Oh that’s, that’s a great suggestion,” he said, stepping a little closer. “Uh, we could do that. But might I, might I suggest one other thing we could try.”

“Go on then.”

He stepped even closer, sticking out his hand for her to shake. “Jeff.”

“Meagan,” I answered, smiling broadly at him. “So I guess this means we’re sharing the space, now that we’re on a first name basis and all.”

“That was my general idea, yeah.”

“Smart one, Goldblum.”

He looked down at his glass, his cocky smile replaced with a chuckle. “I don’t remember giving out last names.”

I went perfectly still, realizing I had just given myself away. “And I was going to try and be so suave and not give myself away as a crazy fangirl,” I said nervously, trying to salvage the conversation as best I could.

“No worries, Bateman,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink before turning to look at me, the cocky smile returning.

“Not you too?” I joked, trying to stay calm. 

Jeff Goldblum had just admitted to knowing who I was before meeting me. I tried to keep my hands from shaking as I raised my own glass to my lips.

“I admit it,” he said, bowing in front of me dramatically. “I am a crazy fangirl who saw your work One Mississippi and then went back and watched, uh, basically everything else you’ve ever done. In one weekend. Because I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

“How, how, how far back did you go?” I asked, feeling herself beginning to sweat.

“When you wrote for season five of Evening At Nine far back,” he answered.

Not only was Jeff Goldblum, Jeff Goldblum of all people, a fan of mine, he was the kind of fan that watched my old horrible movies and shows. I closed her eyes and breathed deeply again.

“The dedicated kind,” I finally responded, still trying my best to play it cool.

“Go big or go home, right?”

I felt myself blush a little and looked down at my glass.  

“So listen,” Jeff continued, “now that we’ve got the awkwardness out of the way, how about we sit in the shadows and gab about actual meaningful things, like the meaning of life and how you felt about the new season of Sherlock, like two normal introverts.”

I smiled broadly. “I think that sounds just about perfect.”

                                              *                                *                                 *

“I mean, I think if you have a great, original idea at 17, that’s fantastic and you should at least write a synopsis down, but if you’re going to write an entire trilogy about it, perhaps wait until you’re out of college and get life a little bit more, otherwise it seems like you’re doomed to just steal ideas from other authors and directors to fill in the gaps of your story.”

I finished my rant with a long breath, realizing I hadn’t come up for air in awhile. I looked over at Jeff, and blushed at the smile on his face.

He looked ridiculously happy sitting there listening to me go on about teenage science fiction authors, as if nothing in the world was better than this for him.

“I’m sorry,” I began apologetically. “I’ve been rambling and ranting for a long time. You can just knock me off my soap box now.”

“No, no, please,” Jeff said quickly. “Stay up there as long as you want. I like it.”

“You like listening to a crazy woman rave about things in life that annoy her?” I joked.

“I just like listening to anything you want to say,” Jeff replied softly. “I think you could read the dictionary to me and I would be mesmorized.”

I tried not to blush for the hundredth time that night. “Well that’s because the dictionary is actually quite fascinating.”

“I think you’re quite fascinating,” Jeff said seriously.

I tried to shrug him off, but inside I was screaming. Jeff Goldblum, foxy Jeff Goldblum, thought I was fascinating.

I looked down at my watch and realized we had been talking for close to two hours. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Oh,” I replied, not realizing I had spoken out loud. “It’s just, I didn’t really want to come tonight, so I promised myself if I stayed for an hour, I could go home, curl up with my favourite season of Parks And Recreation and the frozen yogurt in the freezer. And I see I’ve successfully been here for approximately two and a half hours. That also deserves popcorn and Starbursts with that frozen yogurt.”

Jeff laughed before responding. “I’m proud of you for your overachieving interactions. You definitely deserve an award for talking with me for so long.”

“Not at all,” I replied seriously. “In fact, I rather thing talking with you is the reward.”

Jeff just smiled at the comment, looking at his own drink with a blush. “So listen,” he said after a moment’s pause. “What would you say if I got your number and wanted to hang out with you later this week? I’m thinking about asking, but I want to make sure you like this idea first. If you don’t, then I’m not going to ask, you know. This is all hypothetical, so don’t get any ideas.”

I looked down myself, willing myself to stay calm and act suave and sophisticated. “Well, hypothetically speaking you know, I’d be pretty stoked to hang out with you. Hypothetically. Don’t get any ideas.”

“So if I handed you my phone and asked you to put your number in it…” Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

I grinned before reaching over and talking his phone, creating a new contact and typing in my number before calling myself, handing him back his phone, and pulling out my own. “Now it’s official, we have each other’s numbers. No going back now, Goldblum.”

Jeff just smiled at her.

“So,” I said, standing up. “I’ve been able to keep myself from too many embarrassing comments and conversations the past two hours, but I feel my chances are slim to none at continuing that streak the longer I stay, and I want to leave on a high note.”

“Got to get home to that marathon,” Jeff joked, standing up himself.

“It was positively delightful meeting you, Mr. Goldblum,” I said, putting out my hand for him to shake.

“It was indescribably wonderful meeting you, Miss Bateman,” Jeff replied, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He was rewarded by a laugh from me.

“I look forward to your phone call in two days.”

“Two?” Jeff asked, confused.

“I know the rule is three days, for whatever reason,” I answered. “But seeing as how we both appear to be a little bit eager to be best friends, I have a feeling you might skip that extra day.”

“You are overestimating my level of patience,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “You should probably expect one of those sappy goodnight texts about how much I loved meeting you and how I already miss the sound of your voice.”

“Ooh, that’s a good line,” I said, mock-serious.

“I thought so.”

We stood smiling at each other for a moment, Jeff still holding onto my hand. Finally, he pulled me closer by my hand and kissed my cheek. “It really was perfect meeting you.”

“Same to you,” I whispered, still smiling.

My smile didn’t leave the entire ride home, or as I showered or crawled into bed for my marathon.
         And it certainly didn’t leave as my phone lit up just before I turned out the lights to go to sleep.

         I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but I didn’t want to go to that party tonight either. I was thinking about rewarding myself when I got home too if I made it an hour or two. But I think I found my reward at the party.


         My smile broadened as I turned out my  light, snuggling down in my blankets, reading and re-reading the text until I fell asleep. 

Yep.  

Yep. 

That's how it's gonna happen. 


Monday, September 22, 2014

Day Eleven: Boys Confuse Me.

Boys confuse me.

Allow me to give a verbatim conversation I had at the gym:

Me: Hey, this book has been in the locker room since before the weekend. Would you put it in the lost and found box?

Boy: Sure. My dad loves that author.

Me: Oh yeah? I've never heard of him.

Boy: He writes political mystery type books. Like a less-good Tom Clancy.

Me: Ah. I see.

Boy: I don't think you'd like them.

Me: Um. Why do you say that?

Boy: You don't seem like that type of girl.

Me: Oh. Okay. Well, what type of girl do I seem like?

Boy: I'm still figuring that out. I don't know you. You know, yet.

Me: Yet?

Boy: Yeah. Maybe we can change that.

Me: Oh. *tries to remember how to flirt since I am obviously getting flirted at*

Boy: Did you get to go outside today? I got to take my girlfriend's dog for a walk and it was so nice outside today.

Me: Your. Girlfriend's. Dog. Right. No, I didn't go outside. I was at work. And now I'm going to go work out. So.

Boy: Yeah. Flex your muscles. Keep getting toned. You look toned.

Me: Cool. Thanks. Bye.


I repeat. Boys confuse me.

I went to a school that had a MRS degree and a plan called Ring By Spring where you were supposed to meet your future spouse in line for registration as a freshman (yes, we were actually told this multiple times by people in authority), then get engaged by your spring semester freshman year.

I was not one of those girls who got this degree.

I was the girl who stayed in my dorm room having Ugly Betty marathons my first semester at this college instead of starting this degree. And then I was too busy with Student Media and just trying to pass my classes and cramming in as many How I Met Your Mother marathons with my roommate as I possibly could.

Not much has changed.

Sometimes it really confuses me how some of my amazing girl friends are still single, why a boy hasn't come to his senses and seen how amazing they are.

Sometimes it never ceases to amaze me that society encourages a slutty lifestyle and expects us to actually find someone to love us this way.

Sometimes it makes me sad that one is told this is the best time of one's life, and I'd like to have someone to share this time with.

But mostly sometimes it just makes me bloody confused when I have interactions like the one above.

I don't have any kind of answer or little bow to wrap this up with. It's just one of those things.

Boys confuse me.

But Jimmy Fallon and Will Ferrell singing about tight pants does not.



Sunday, September 21, 2014

Day Ten: The Nanny

This is very incomplete. But it's late and I'm tired, so yeah.

It's incomplete.


ACT ONE

Scene One

(LIGHTS come up to reveal several woman standing around in 3 or 4 groups talking. There is a TABLE in the middle of the room with a tea set and snacks.)

KATHERINE
The other day, you won’t believe what little Jimmy did. I was in the living room cleaning up a little, you know, the children, I love them but they make such a mess sometimes, but I never mind cleaning it up because they’re just so adorable. Anyways, I was picking up some of their precious little toys and just straightening things up before Jason came home, and little Jimmy walks into the living room and holds up a plate with oreos he’s “decorated” with grape jelly and sprinkles, and yells out, just as loud as his little voice can, “Mommy, it’s an I-Love-You cookie kind of day.”

                                                (WOMEN standing in this circle all “awww”
                                                loudly and dramatically.)

                                                KATHERINE
I know. It was just the cutest little thing. So then I went into the kitchen and made him one too, and we ended up spending the rest of the day making I-Love-You cookies for Jason when he got home. We had a whole dish of them just waiting on Jason. It was just the darndest thing.

                                                (WOMEN and KATHERINE freeze and lights
                                                dim, and NORA walks onto the stage and
                                                addresses the audience.)


                                                NORA
That’s Mrs. Zimmerbold there, Katherine to all her friends, but always Mrs. Zimmerbold to me. Let me tell you a little bit about Katherine Zimmerbold. Her maiden name was Addison, but when she married Jason Zimmerbold, she not only took on his name, but his 3.5 million dollars in the bank, his mansion in the country, his ginormous apartment on the west side of town, his grandmother’s wedding ring that was appraised at two hundred grand, and, last but least to Katherine, the children she bore him. Let me tell you something else about Katherine Zimmerbold; I am her nanny. I am not Nora Simpleton from Virginia or even Ted Simpleton’s daughter. I am Katherine Zimmerbold’s Nanny. The few times I’ve accidentally been seen at one of Katherine Zimmerbold’s house parties because Jim needed a glass of water or Kitty wanted a bedtime snack, she’s just said, “Oh, everyone, this is My Nanny.” I am Katherine Zimmerbold’s Nanny, and I do not exist.

                                                (WOMEN and KATHERINE become unfrozen
                                                and begin laughing.)

                                                WOMAN #1
Oh Katherine, you just have the cutest kids. I don’t know how you manage to do everything you do for Jason and keep up house and home and still manage to have the cutest little interactions with your adorable children. It really is just heroic.

                                                KATHERINE
Well, ladies, you know I would be nothing without those kids. I would just shrivel up and die without them.

                                                (LIGHTS fade. LIGHTS come back up
                                                revealing just KATHERINE on stage as she
                                                addresses the audience.)

                                                KATHERINE
I have a little secret to confess. Jimmy actually made the cookie for The Nanny. But when she told me the story, it was just too adorable to pass up. And some of the ladies have been giving me The Look, so I needed to come up with something fast. You know The Look. Here, let me show you.

                                                (KATHERINE gives the audience The Look.)

That’s The Look. That look of disapproval, of wondering, of fake concern. I’ve been getting it because everything thinks I haven’t been spending time with my family. Which is ridiculous. I make sure to spend fifteen minutes with The Nanny every other night, listening to her stories of how the children are. I mean. My god, what else do I have time for? The children know I love them of course. I usually go and kiss them goodnight when I get home from my long days with the ladies. Sometimes I’m just too tired, but who can blame me? I lead a full rich wife’s life. I don’t have time for the Mother of the Year award.

Day Nine: The Lyrics To Fun.'s New Song

So I didn't write yesterday. 

Which means I have to make up for it today, I guess. 

So. 

Part one. 

This weekend has been frustrating and grand and exciting and thought-provoking and humbling all at the same time. 

I was thinking about the book One Day by David Nicholls a lot this weekend. If you haven't read it and you're between the ages of 20 and 35, you should probably drop everything and read it. Because it explains life at this stage better than anything I've ever read. 

When I got out of college, I thought I knew what was going to happen. 

I would get a job. Maybe not The Perfect Job, but a job I would stay at for five ish years until a publisher would contact me because they had been reading my short stories I've been publishing in literature magazines and wanted me to publish a book of short stories, or a tv man would contact me because he had an idea for a show and he wanted me to be a head writer and life would be grand. 

And then I would meet a man and we would date for a few years and he would be wonderful to me and we would get married and I would decorate our house and he would mow the lawn and we would have a little vegetable garden and have foster kids. 

Obviously none of this is happening. 

But I have been waiting around for that perfect job and that perfect man for the past three years and waiting around for life to start. 

Which is a load of crap. But I know I'm not the only one doing this. 

And you know what. We are young and life is kind of crappy to us right now. 

That should be the chorus to Fun.'s new song. 

So I'm tired of waiting around for "life to start." 

Why not just start it now? Why not just be a temp for a little while? Why not be a secretary or a coffee shop worker or a bar tender while I write a zombie novel like Nick Miller? 

This is a conversation I feel like I've been having with a few friends for several months now. We put so much emphasis on finding the perfect career, on centering our lives around our jobs, and I really don't like that. What I do as a job or a source of income really shouldn't define who I am. 

I went to hear an amazing man speak at a Bible study event a week or so ago, and he said some things that I so, so needed to hear. One thing was that God calls us to use the gifts He has given us, not to a job. Our job can be a venue for how to use the gifts God has given us, but our Point given by God is so much more than our 9 to 5. 

So what that means to me right now is that I don't have to have a perfect house with a perfect husband. I can have a pretty cool apartment with my best friend, and make just enough money to pay for rent and Netflix and ramen noodles while finding my way in life. 

And that's good enough for me.