tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70090602418756203522024-03-05T15:56:43.848-05:00Shut Up and Love.Relationships are hard, and heartbreak is brutal. But for real, we need each other, so shut up and love.Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-70959876025108665962012-02-07T09:18:00.000-05:002012-02-07T09:19:18.446-05:00Fight songs for lovers<a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2011/05/wed.html">Getting married</a> isn't an accomplishment, but staying married is, and staying married is an accomplishment I'd like the bragging rights to one day. Today, for example: still married.<br />
<br />
John Gottman, who runs the famous Love Lab (his book Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work below), has data that proves that long-lasting couples don't disagree any less than troubled couples do. That's a relief, because my Beloved and I disagree ALL THE TIME.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, these disagreements cannot really be resolved. Gottman says that's ok and sort of inevitable. A person with a bad elbow, he'd explain, can live a great life as long as he doesn't make playing tennis a central part of it. Cute metaphor, Johnny-boy, but it's not my elbow! It's my husband. How do I not I kill him? I use this playlist:<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Try belting out "Love on Top" while dancing like we did in the 90s and staying angry. Impossible. Do you think Beyonce listens to her own songs when she's mad at Jay-Z?<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ob7vObnFUJc" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Imagine Tyrese is singing on your husband's behalf.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/51mR-z80X_o" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Usher croons about how miserable it is to be mad at each other. And he's right.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jUe8uoKdHao" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Things that sound cheesy in English sound sincere and romantic in Spanish. <br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qExd-3oCTl4" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Dimitri from Anastasia was a dreamboat, ok? Every girl loved this movie when it came out. Imagine my surprise when this song came on my Beloved's iPod one day, and we both knew all the words. The refrain's true: "Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing."<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DP6kPVvIEC0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
You can purchase Gottman's book here (all purchases from the widget support this site)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTN42pWSPrJ_Aw66ko5o4Z16dmP-y12vV1QXvc5EJdLiQZtDXHzBSIFPbOOqtxbF6_4Z21Xku5EAuOSedPUFjLu5PMiTrTAzJJVCs2MpVhsdEVnQ2ZxPAB18YxVho9Fd9n-WzyrZ0Oyc/s1600/KidIvyTetGrandparents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTN42pWSPrJ_Aw66ko5o4Z16dmP-y12vV1QXvc5EJdLiQZtDXHzBSIFPbOOqtxbF6_4Z21Xku5EAuOSedPUFjLu5PMiTrTAzJJVCs2MpVhsdEVnQ2ZxPAB18YxVho9Fd9n-WzyrZ0Oyc/s400/KidIvyTetGrandparents.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new year well-wishes were worth every lucky dollar. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Because Lunar New Year is not a national holiday where I live, the boisterous celebration of hope will have to wait until next Saturday. I don't mind. I been waiting a while for a new start.<br />
<br />
Two years ago, Tet was on a Sunday (and also Valentine's Day), so I'd planned an epic New Year's Eve party with delights like home-made mangosteen sorbet. My mom was coming from out of state to be a part of my Beloved's proposal - and we would be able to announce our engagement at the party, too. But that week, the sort of <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-new-year-please.html">tragedy that stops time</a> happened - time like the helpless moment when you've lost control of your car. I've been stuck in that fishtail moment, that terrible sliding before nothing-good, but this year, I finally feel my life coming un-paused.<br />
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I gerry-rig an ancestor altar every year since I met my Beloved, whose mother is passed, but since I fell into a Buddha statue at Target this weekend, this year required a better backdrop than Renter's Ecru. Some altars have Buddha before a generic sunny sky, but my scene is a particular dark night. When Buddha was about to find enlightenment beneath the bodhi tree, the demons of desire and evil aimed arrows, rocks, and fire at him to disrupt his quest, but the weapons fell softly around him as flowers. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldx0n9zY7pANTdUZt_xcbjUAQf0YuEbpQ6RQraan1i4HnH4mT82RmOj6hRI0513wW39wJ_Xp0P5RCZakrHQicLFmRwZER-dK_wn_vUdlHXaKb2cNkRZte17LE8QOXub8YBPTqmRRtjgY/s1600/AltarFrontView.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldx0n9zY7pANTdUZt_xcbjUAQf0YuEbpQ6RQraan1i4HnH4mT82RmOj6hRI0513wW39wJ_Xp0P5RCZakrHQicLFmRwZER-dK_wn_vUdlHXaKb2cNkRZte17LE8QOXub8YBPTqmRRtjgY/s640/AltarFrontView.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Electrical outlets were also a part of Buddha's ancient landscape.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<br />
For those unfamiliar with the story, here's a synopsis starting at about 2:20 minutes:
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<div style="background: transparent; color: grey; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; margin-top: 5px; text-align: center; width: 512px;">
Watch <a href="http://video.pbs.org/video/1437949601" style="color: #4eb2fe !important; font-weight: normal !important; height: 13px; text-decoration: none !important;" target="_blank">Enlightenment, part 2</a> on PBS. See more from <a href="http://www.pbs.org/thebuddha/" style="color: #4eb2fe !important; font-weight: normal !important; height: 13px; text-decoration: none !important;" target="_blank">The Buddha.</a></div>
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<br />
Whether it's history or legend, I'll take the lesson in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equanimity">equanimity</a> wherever I can get it. Thich Nhat Hanh defines equanimity as "nonattachment, nondiscrimination, even-mindedness, or letting go." In this year of the water dragon, may we all not discriminate between the fire and the flowers. Let them fall. May we unattach ourselves from the past. The present awaits. May we let go, and let the <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-zinkhan-doesnt-matter.html">sun</a> rise. These are my wishes for a happy new year.Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-22814549488340881682011-12-21T13:49:00.000-05:002011-12-21T15:50:10.629-05:00When we have kids...<b><span dir="ltr" id=":11l"> </span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="background-color: white; color: magenta;"><span dir="ltr" id=":11l">My Beloved last night:</span></b><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>Maybe when we have kids, we should give them one present on Christmas Eve to keep that <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/06/back-from-germany.html">German tradition</a>, but give them another present on Christmas morning like the American kids. </span><br />
<div class="kq" role="chatMessage">
<div class="kp">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6;">Me:</b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span>That could work.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="km" role="chatMessage">
<div class="kk">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: magenta;">Beloved:</b><span dir="ltr" id=":11f"><span style="color: magenta;"> </span>They'll post about their early presents on Facebook or whatever, and all the other kids will be jealous and wish they had a German dad!</span></span></div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":11d">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #3d85c6;">Me:</b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span>Yeah. No one wants an <a href="http://mymomisafob.com/">Asian mom</a>.</span></div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":11d">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span dir="ltr" id=":11l">At least Buddhist children don't get punished by <a href="http://blog.chron.com/momhouston/2011/12/krampus-is-a-child-licking-child-beating-demon-who-will-haunt-your-children%E2%80%99s-dreams/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+houstonchronicle%2Ftopheadlines+%28chron.com+-+Top+Stories%29">Krampus</a>. </span></i><b><span dir="ltr" id=":11l"></span></b></span></div>
</div>
<div class="kl" dir="ltr" id=":11d" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/WLnl5ZWG4tg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
</div>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-74658781648664186292011-11-29T09:48:00.000-05:002011-11-29T10:31:33.680-05:00Can he stay? In America?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKc-l-FKI3eQtkml4A2m2kgtL4FwENFP5VNjeVxiHWdWhSE0NIVAbfrt9R9uQtDXIlmPpwVXf14-P053PNPVSjtfUjXxqckc9V1-SeP5svbE4RdgOliaqGPHMfjhLwGIa4GE9JeQdCKg/s1600/InterviewImage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKc-l-FKI3eQtkml4A2m2kgtL4FwENFP5VNjeVxiHWdWhSE0NIVAbfrt9R9uQtDXIlmPpwVXf14-P053PNPVSjtfUjXxqckc9V1-SeP5svbE4RdgOliaqGPHMfjhLwGIa4GE9JeQdCKg/s400/InterviewImage.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What we wore. Are we a more plausible couple with my hair down or my eyes closed?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's not often that a relationship
blogger is summoned by the government to demonstrate the legitimacy
of her marriage, so I just <i>had</i> to take a break from marital
bliss to give you the highlights from our interview with the Department of Homeland
Security, Citizenship and Immigration Services, yesterday.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Immigration Official: When you met him, what made him
stand out to you?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: HA! (nervous laughter)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: It's just my job to ask questions.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: He's just ...hot. And I already
knew almost everyone else at that party.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: So he was new. Was he well-spoken?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: He was very forward.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: How so?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: Like when I was giving my phone
number to another guy who I knew -in case our cars got separated- he
just started taking it, too.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: That makes sense! What if the other
guy's phone died?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Note: Even an immigration official will defend a foreigner who hijacks women's phone numbers, because they're men. </i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: Did you talk a lot at that party that first night you met?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: Not right away. There was another
girl there who I'm close friends with, and he was trying to decide at
first who to hit on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: Yes, men do that. Women do that,
too.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Beloved: (nods)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: Oh, is THAT what women do?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
IO: Do you plan to
practice polygamy?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
B: No.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me: Well, I don't think sister wives is
a bad idea necessarily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
B: She's kidding. And I have my
hands full with one wife.</div>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-21678494840190550222011-08-17T00:07:00.005-04:002011-12-21T14:20:35.256-05:00Mom's Unconditional Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/35077273@N06/4312923500/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXnO4zCzpfI9xLQ2xVtS7CnNiaVcVoz5l520eUduvBmrE_evA2K-PqNypPrlrUmdUvbFo_-cohChTJPA5_2fj1KodM_FGgDrn9EL92TaDod6HtOxKdFDr58h2NkihXxJs2tDULjCRo7k/s400/MoonbyNickK.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
I finished reading <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1555975631/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=shupanlo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399369&creativeASIN=1555975631">The Art of Description</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=&l=as2&o=1&a=1555975631&camp=217145&creative=399369" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></i> by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060752475/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=shupanlo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399373&creativeASIN=0060752475">Mark Doty</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=&l=as2&o=1&a=0060752475&camp=217145&creative=399373" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /> over two months ago, but I can't shelve the book, because I keep needing to read <a href="http://doriannelaux.com/poetry.html">this poem</a> he quotes to feel sane. It's the poem I've been in <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-new-year-please.html#more">no shape to write</a>. Do you identify with the mother racked with unconditional love? The practical, and probably rightly angry speaker? Or the speaker at the end, who suddenly realizes and marvels at the weight of this mother's love - as mysterious and beautiful as the moon? <br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b>Excerpt from "<a href="http://doriannelaux.com/poetry.html">Facts About the Moon</a>" by <a href="http://doriannelaux.com/about.html">Dorianne Laux</a></b><br />
<blockquote>
...These nights<br />
I harbor a secret pity for the moon, rolling<br />
around alone in space without<br />
her milky planet, her only child, a mother<br />
who’s <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/03/5-things-about-grief.html">lost </a>a child, a bad child,<br />
a greedy child or maybe a grown boy<br />
who’s murdered and raped, a mother<br />
can’t help it, she loves that boy<br />
anyway, and in spite of herself<br />
she misses him, and if you sit beside her<br />
on the padded hospital bench<br />
outside the door to his room you can’t not<br />
take her hand, listen to her while she<br />
<a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/01/hope-for-future-family-from-mom.html">weeps</a>, telling you how sweet he was,<br />
how blue his eyes, and you know she’s only<br />
romanticizing, that she’s conveniently<br />
forgotten the bruises and booze,<br />
the stolen car, the day he ripped<br />
the phones from the walls, and you want<br />
to slap her back to sanity, remind her<br />
of the truth: he was a leech, a fuckup,<br />
a little shit, and you almost do<br />
until she lifts her pale puffy face, her eyes<br />
two craters and then you can’t help it<br />
either, you know love when you see it,<br />
you can feel its lunar strength, its <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day.html">brutal </a>pull.</blockquote>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-33185197859355702692011-06-06T14:33:00.000-04:002011-06-06T14:33:33.114-04:00How's Married Life?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGkC_j5XXlmATLOtBDW20ZsLoQGemevy2G7Ibp1WA_qt9mH-zObovuV_U6a1xEwKevCqonSgNe4MePgu_WblNitnteX5XqgjifnJMZAF4hx2PzdbzMDeB0ja-T_1QgXq-wvmFXzk8FtU/s1600/EurovisionCake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" id=":current_picnik_image" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGkC_j5XXlmATLOtBDW20ZsLoQGemevy2G7Ibp1WA_qt9mH-zObovuV_U6a1xEwKevCqonSgNe4MePgu_WblNitnteX5XqgjifnJMZAF4hx2PzdbzMDeB0ja-T_1QgXq-wvmFXzk8FtU/s320/EurovisionCake.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I separated 3 packs of M&Ms by color to decorate this<br />
Eurovision-Dusseldorf cake... for love.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<ol style="text-align: right;"><li style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">How's married life?</span></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Does it feel different being married?</span></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What's your new name?</span></li>
</ol><br />
These are the most common questions I've fielded since my wedding, and that can mean only one thing: the People demand a Shut Up and Love blog post on these three topics.<br />
<br />
Here's a full report, eight dear readers: weddings and marriages have nothing to do with each other.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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Married life is good. It's less eventful than <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2011/03/cultural-differences-wedding-planning.html">wedding planning</a>, and as my mother says, "People with boring lives are blessed." Joining finances is a chore, but no more than hydrating after a night of heavy drinking. We came back to Georgia after the wedding, unpacked, and checked <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/pages/Shut-Up-and-Love/56388574029">Facebook </a>hourly for wedding pictures. We returned to work with new jewelry and hosted our first party as a married couple to watch the <a href="http://youtu.be/VkmncrAPILw">Eurovision finals</a>. <br />
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Then, we packed for a honeymoon visiting <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/06/back-from-germany.html">family in Germany</a> followed by three serrano-and-<a href="http://leitesculinaria.com/47301/recipes-tinto-de-verano.html"><i>tinto-de-veran</i>o</a>-fueled days of doting on each other in Madrid. Have a look thanks to my <i>husband</i>'s new video hobby:<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="338" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/24399577?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="600"></iframe><br />
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Being married <b>is</b> different, or at least a magnification of the <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/09/long-of-long-term-relationship.html">long-term relationship</a>. Sure, it is a game to use the unworn phrases "my wife" or "my <i>husband</i>" with the straightest face you can muster - and lose. :) <br />
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More importantly, because we have <a href="http://www.fastcompany.com/1755546/why-keeping-your-options-open-is-really-really-bad-idea">committed </a>to working out our differences FOREVERRRRRR, the little things become (probably always were) ridiculous to fight about. Even my outlook's chilled out a bit. I'm not indignant anymore that saptastic Azerbaijan won Eurovision. They seem so sincere.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vvZlEAP5Z28" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Marriage is also different, because others treat us differently. You always hear that men are afraid their partners will change after marriage; they don't tell you some people will be offended if you DON'T change after marriage. Some have taken offense at my name staying the same as when they first met me, for example, or look sideways if my husband and I don't RSVP the same way to an event. <br />
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Isn't it ironic? You <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/04/toughest-most-general-post-yet-help.html">wait </a>to marry until you find a partner who loves you just the way you are - and I found one fiercely protective of my characteristic independence - but as soon as you get <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-beloved-proposed-american-engagement.html">engaged</a>, seemingly reasonable people started projecting all kinds of assumptions on to you: about what marriage indicates, about a woman's ambitions, her priorities, which direction her weight will change, and identity. <br />
<ul><li> I resent my love being usurped as proof that being married is inherently better than being single; it isn't. </li>
<li>I was not faulty or incomplete before I met my Beloved; everyone is <i>born </i>perfect in their beauty. </li>
<li>My priorities were already in an honorable order, thankyouverymuch, and that's what brought the boys to the yard. </li>
<li>And anyway, I thought you always liked my name. </li>
</ul>Basically, given today's circumstances, part of marriage has to be the slow construction of what marriage means to us, because the old definitions are an awkward fit. <br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Being a wife only means that you’ve chosen someone to stand by and to stand by you, whom you love. ...Any definition more complex than that is just somebody's personal opinion, which you are no more obligated to follow than when they tell you what to weigh, wear, and watch."</i></span> -Read the rest of "Reclaiming Wife: Remember the Lesbians" on <a href="http://apracticalwedding.com/2010/02/reclaiming-wife-remember-lesbians/#more-60">A Practical Wedding</a> blog</blockquote>For someone not allowed to marry in most states, this lesbian was prescient about "how's marriage." I wonder how she's handled joining finances and party hostessing. Could someone tell me why <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/04/vermont-gay-marriage-gender-roles-oh-my.html">gay people</a> aren't allowed to do this again?Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-2926057629373483942011-05-30T20:33:00.008-04:002011-05-31T14:04:24.784-04:00Wed.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55DGI4NSZo3qYroCvE4rUGfBCjIGS63vOULW0txwLqs1v2_DX9J6eMDtQpwO6BSMQQNHvwS49qf2Fj03UBfkhlSJIB-GluPDHdwAXgloZ0ttlwAvrLfSh-GHFbHVqbsdNj2vq6kU6Jr8/s1600/RingExchange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55DGI4NSZo3qYroCvE4rUGfBCjIGS63vOULW0txwLqs1v2_DX9J6eMDtQpwO6BSMQQNHvwS49qf2Fj03UBfkhlSJIB-GluPDHdwAXgloZ0ttlwAvrLfSh-GHFbHVqbsdNj2vq6kU6Jr8/s640/RingExchange.jpg" width="589" /></a></div>In Texas, where I'm from, there's a three-day waiting period to marry (3 days longer than it takes to purchase a firearm, by the way, which is why you shouldn't mess with Texas), so a little over a month ago, my Beloved and I flew to my hometown the Tuesday before we were to be wed there.<br />
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Soon after, our friends and family started arriving from all over the country and the world - and we put them to work. Our celebration of love thereby turned into the grandest communal expression of it, and whatever heartache we felt when regretful RSVPs rolled in (they don't warn you how sad that part of wedding planning can be) melted before the exuberant faces of those who gave us the honor of their presence. <br />
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For some, the new family starts when a couple has a child, but for us, the new family was officially born on our wedding day, when our friends and families came together as one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoNPtnOkA5Rszg0WE2OwxL_MLz_TMCBM0Y73vQJBlSB8bDKFpQyEGrHwsJBpAfW-MDoEI2Ewf8tzu1TbN01YVR171MZEpItfizzgHGzbQ797inYZ0jK67sXzAdl4alHPJqsl80Z-Ty8E/s1600/WeddingProgram.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" id=":current_picnik_image" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqa2kCja-ND5ZMz6Yu2IukLkiHaBDu16c6FMCoY9x7MDYdc0XrwYhJXuh74sU2uRfXAM8MJnJgpy2m2XnJ6gQ0MKIC51hFOg_p2_6viaq0v-kgAL_qmJk8iuCWrBQHDzBfS_GMcgdPeNk/s1600/14339854091_JsfD6.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/01/hope-for-future-family-from-mom.html">mom </a>even plugged Shut Up and Love, much to my surprise, during the tea ceremony. This is the exact moment it happened:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqv90jNsLdbQgG7d3v89ms8WPY3QvDHY21-v4nDuHm8F2mn6-ebDFX_jEeiNYs47TBCQmYVvPBBsNt5Q9e2bifzp4s222uk9ayrC6mB_K1PHmZ9J31wPHaCazuPAChr-1fa89D0EKIuI/s1600/MomShutUpandLove.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqv90jNsLdbQgG7d3v89ms8WPY3QvDHY21-v4nDuHm8F2mn6-ebDFX_jEeiNYs47TBCQmYVvPBBsNt5Q9e2bifzp4s222uk9ayrC6mB_K1PHmZ9J31wPHaCazuPAChr-1fa89D0EKIuI/s400/MomShutUpandLove.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The wedding ceremony also included a German log-cutting (a cake adaptation of the actual log many Germans cut as their first matrimonial task) and <a href="http://high.heels.com/heels-com-featured-customer/">show-stopping shoes</a>, an American bridal tradition. Here's a wedding tradition scorecard for those who have been following along with our <i><a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/search?q=cultural+differences">cultural differences</a></i>:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXz5skC20h36kwTWeBqBJ583PidbQm3YjRVfwd-mOuZeTMwROTmuC-Wmk4_0pQ5PKTgMuiBi-9GXVYmd1Xsw0UfnHKuhcICdcMkEg6aEaeZ89kPvNh1O5Uk9Fi19vzZO1HfkwBW6w27cM/s1600/WeddingCulturesScorecard.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXz5skC20h36kwTWeBqBJ583PidbQm3YjRVfwd-mOuZeTMwROTmuC-Wmk4_0pQ5PKTgMuiBi-9GXVYmd1Xsw0UfnHKuhcICdcMkEg6aEaeZ89kPvNh1O5Uk9Fi19vzZO1HfkwBW6w27cM/s1600/WeddingCulturesScorecard.bmp" /></a></div><br />
And here are the reception shoes, because judging by your response to <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/03/searching-for-my-solemate.html">this old blog post</a>, you want them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGm4ALfazP0I-y0_NX3LPLJiV_B48TO6pPHkpshTk7jY8Im6YRhY63_rGnp6MR0O2BJj1JalhFobyrkXvjonkWSqYFXIYL4x6psbz0RQy31bmWo4N6KPTIDIBemcl8ae-6JfisxNtOVY/s1600/RedReceptionShoes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGm4ALfazP0I-y0_NX3LPLJiV_B48TO6pPHkpshTk7jY8Im6YRhY63_rGnp6MR0O2BJj1JalhFobyrkXvjonkWSqYFXIYL4x6psbz0RQy31bmWo4N6KPTIDIBemcl8ae-6JfisxNtOVY/s640/RedReceptionShoes.JPG" width="470" /></a></div><br />
After the ceremony, we all went downtown to the Nasher Sculpture Center for dinner and dancing in the sculpture garden. My dream wedding has always been a museum wedding, and my Beloved's has always been a garden wedding.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6dsChc6pEnYtpSAi5BwXYrIr_yuI4QXc0t25q2MRvcfvQPQ249bSlQrg2DsBs9w78L_A3fChca4gPQUjCEhrYkXkb2HoTvrAt7lRIhxP18fme4lktSy8IHdpZnVfLidzFtqtP5qhM2Q/s1600/MuseumGarden.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6dsChc6pEnYtpSAi5BwXYrIr_yuI4QXc0t25q2MRvcfvQPQ249bSlQrg2DsBs9w78L_A3fChca4gPQUjCEhrYkXkb2HoTvrAt7lRIhxP18fme4lktSy8IHdpZnVfLidzFtqtP5qhM2Q/s640/MuseumGarden.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Alas, this wasn't a dream, and a thunderstorm crashed the party at about 9 p.m. But waking life <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-new-year-please.html">must be lived</a>; my dad wiped the dancefloor with dinner napkins, and my husband and I danced our first dance as if it would be our last. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5xwL6ZRE3IYp4GUA02BwiciwLQyp17CQbUSMwtmcxYmu8O7YSV-KdHhzpd4huayAuwi2r1eve0fPDFSfdN_Hli16xPJ1lYspjPP9EyK2GSdUSMy_zHvqDDxQw-_IjrQp4LuI58Aqfjk/s1600/FirstDance.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5xwL6ZRE3IYp4GUA02BwiciwLQyp17CQbUSMwtmcxYmu8O7YSV-KdHhzpd4huayAuwi2r1eve0fPDFSfdN_Hli16xPJ1lYspjPP9EyK2GSdUSMy_zHvqDDxQw-_IjrQp4LuI58Aqfjk/s640/FirstDance.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
But it won't be. :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSdYZHNg2mJ8CLrFsdxGskf-dAdx1SiVuQb5HU4fhHYDTYrzPDVMSQ4COrgLglQcQGkhzRHhMqmksKcOpG4sGg4z9jM6b3y0sY4UI-EZlx1_gtB-5F_dzdjSAhIvhBSoW6Dn6S0yDBn-s/s1600/JustMarried.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSdYZHNg2mJ8CLrFsdxGskf-dAdx1SiVuQb5HU4fhHYDTYrzPDVMSQ4COrgLglQcQGkhzRHhMqmksKcOpG4sGg4z9jM6b3y0sY4UI-EZlx1_gtB-5F_dzdjSAhIvhBSoW6Dn6S0yDBn-s/s1600/JustMarried.JPG" /></a></div>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-79715841205182346572011-03-17T16:51:00.000-04:002011-03-17T16:51:32.471-04:00Cure for Cold FeetA girlfriend said, "Imagine taking a guy's shirt off and seeing this." I'm posting this ad so someone can refer me to it if I get cold feet before the wedding. It reminds me that while my single life is worth a good bit of nostalgia, there are some distinct perks to committing to a partner with known abs. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/mUddf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://i.imgur.com/mUddf.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actually, I kind of want one for myself.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-88374285861418080082011-03-01T11:12:00.003-05:002011-05-04T11:56:04.983-04:00Cultural Differences: Wedding Planning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnU2SFbmv-xhXA0gVD5h_tn6kndL1P25vF8zMUVL6u5QIn6WvRi78-HpCYaEa4cJRwsuQnf0WgzwdsM8G9nXSj5XIGBX37l3VkiXsZwH3KPFZHa7Kysm_zU0BGk8cXK8-ioG3_atMoNw/s1600/IvyandBeloved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnU2SFbmv-xhXA0gVD5h_tn6kndL1P25vF8zMUVL6u5QIn6WvRi78-HpCYaEa4cJRwsuQnf0WgzwdsM8G9nXSj5XIGBX37l3VkiXsZwH3KPFZHa7Kysm_zU0BGk8cXK8-ioG3_atMoNw/s320/IvyandBeloved.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><br />
<b>Mom</b>: It's ok if they just say this part of the ceremony in German. Everyone will get the idea from the context.<br />
<b>Cousin</b>: Germans can all speak English. They study it in school.<br />
<b>Uncle</b>: How can you assume Germans speak English? I live in America, and I don't speak English. <br />
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<b>Mom</b>: Since the reception will be Asian food, I'm going to serve French snacks and cake at the ceremony.<br />
<b>Uncle</b>: Won't Germans be sick of French food?<br />
<b>Me</b>: What does French culture have to do with anything? <br />
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<b>Aunt</b>: You really need to get serious about losing weight; your wedding's just around the corner.<br />
<b>Sister</b>: Are you kidding? She's lost weight. This is Ivy SKINNY! <br />
<b>Aunt</b>: Oh my god.<br />
<i><b>UPDATE </b>- I'm adding the rest of this conversation due to interest.<a name='more'></a></i><br />
<b>Aunt</b>: I didn't have a belly like that when I was your age.<br />
<b>Me</b>: Like that's an accomplishment.<br />
<b>Sister</b>: When you were her age in Vietnam, we were all starving.<br />
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<b>Mom</b>: These traditions date back to when all marriages were arranged in Vietnam. There was no love, because the bride and groom had never even met each other. It was all about commerce, which isn't anything to be proud of. If the girl was beautiful and a good student and could cook and bake and sew, her family might demand pigs and oxen for her. An ox back then is like a car or a small plane today.<br />
<b>Me</b>: I did well in school, and I'm a great cook, but I'm a little chubby, too. How many oxen do you think I'm worth?<br />
<b>Friend</b>: You'd get a donkey. <br />
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<b>Dad</b>: To help you with your wedding, I am going to give you some advice. Go get married at the courthouse and wait to have the real wedding until you've saved enough money to have the wedding you want. That way, if you divorce in the interim, no one will have to know. <br />
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<b>Brother </b>(writing about our online RSVP system): aWWWWW CHyeaaa!!! Very nice site and very well organized! Don't think anyone could have done it better. Another FIRST in this family's history. Even the eldest uncle could do this.<br />
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<b>Grandma</b>: Will many people be coming from Italy for the wedding?<br />
<b>Me</b>: Grandma, he's German.<br />
<b>Grandma</b>: German? Wouldn't it be closer if they came from Italy?Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-2078252730344325832010-12-31T13:03:00.007-05:002011-05-04T12:35:40.158-04:00Happy New Year, Please<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://smellslikescreenspirit.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/StepUp3D-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://smellslikescreenspirit.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/StepUp3D-poster.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't even have the energy to see it in theatres.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There was no <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-christmas-letter-to-you.html">Christmas newsletter letter </a>this year, because I could not save up enough hope from the past 10 months for holiday-themed writing. This year was the darkest one yet for me. And I really thought I already had a couple doozies under my belt. My youngest brother killed himself, and my mother's beloved passed away. <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/03/5-things-about-grief.html">Grief </a>casts such a long shadow that I feel pity for all the good agents with the misfortune of meeting my murky countenance this year: the release of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89TLbK6o-og">Step Up 3D</a>, for example, joining my strip aerobics dance class's first performance ensemble, and, of course, my Beloved asking me to <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-beloved-proposed-american-engagement.html">marry him</a>. The lows were so low that the highs only gave me enough <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-look-you-are-air-to-me.html">air </a>to go back under water.<br />
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Some years have taught me that we are stronger than we think we are, but this year, I learned that everyone has a breaking point. Several of you, eight dear readers, are unflagging optimists, and I love you for it. You may say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and everything happens for a reason - on your blog. <br />
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This has always been a pragmatist's blog. I will say that a healed bone was indeed once a broken bone, and thanks to many who must have read <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/search?q=mental+illness">the mental illness posts</a>, 2011 has a chance to be the <i>best </i>year yet. <br />
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Before my new year's wishes for you, I'd like to pay homage to some of the little things that let me know I'm still inside myself somewhere.<br />
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This couple at <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/09/4-burning-man-questions.html">Burning Man</a> reminded me that not long ago, I used to love to dance. <br />
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Sometime in the fall, this <a href="http://thehungryamerican.tumblr.com/">hungry American</a> got her tastebuds back, just in time for the Atlanta BBQ Festival.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqz2EJNUYqTHVhWbccZQm636YICOqRd_83fB6m5KCyaLxNGOjdiGbXDwpDBEKV2Z9QYBj9mnVin-N_XnPridi_m3WuI09j3njJcgSQh4g0pSG-luJ_kOdlbnWdMtEUb-GberH4r5jXeOw/s1600/BBQFestAtlanta.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqz2EJNUYqTHVhWbccZQm636YICOqRd_83fB6m5KCyaLxNGOjdiGbXDwpDBEKV2Z9QYBj9mnVin-N_XnPridi_m3WuI09j3njJcgSQh4g0pSG-luJ_kOdlbnWdMtEUb-GberH4r5jXeOw/s320/BBQFestAtlanta.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
And my belly laugh is making a timid return. Behold, a life-saving dinosaur knock knock joke captured on my phone this winter:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='425' height='344' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dywbTbgxBXE0O_IwwyAAGEwdjgkt20XHagHqjApu91r-65PHu3BFYpZdTdgvwIEr2dUzguUfny3AlIqwy00' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
And just a couple weeks ago, a friend sent me this musical masterpiece from <i>The Sing Off</i>, and I found my legs. Much to my co-workers' relief, I'm sure, I started dancing at my desk again to this very video. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rHl0zuV2cw4" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="425"></iframe></div><br />
I know a lot of you have had a hard year, too, and want to bid 2010 good get-the-fuck-out. Resist the urge to send it off with choice words and thrown glass bottles as it heads out the door. Soothe it in your memory like a colicky baby, as Thich Nhat Hanh might say, and may it grow into 2011, the best year yet to come. If I don't see you tonight, I'll see y'all at the wedding. <br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
IvyIvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-35370598980087952612010-09-09T11:00:00.000-04:002010-09-09T11:00:34.018-04:004 Burning (Man) Questions<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"There are only four questions of value: What is sacred? What is worth dying for? What is worth living for? And what is the spirit made from? The answer to each is the same - only <u>love</u>." </span><span style="font-size: small;">-A note from my friend Slumdog at <a href="http://cnn.com/video/?/video/living/2010/09/07/dnt.nv.burning.man.ktvn">Burning Man 2010</a> in the Black Rock Desert </span></span></blockquote>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-91930096669720717212010-08-19T16:53:00.000-04:002010-08-19T16:53:55.491-04:00Cohabitation Question<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://irvinehomes.ocregister.com/files/2009/07/question-300x277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://irvinehomes.ocregister.com/files/2009/07/question-300x277.jpg" /></a></div><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">How <i>the hey</i> do you hide a wedding dress when your fiance is your roommate? Ideas?</span></b>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-39469157254969524852010-08-09T11:13:00.008-04:002011-05-04T11:55:39.367-04:003 Most Awesome Weddings EverSince I last wrote you, my dear seven readers, Spain won the <a href="http://classiccityworldcup.wordpress.com/huddle/">World Cup</a>, <a href="http://twitter.com/overthinker/status/20415822554">Proposition 8 was overturned </a>by a federal judge, and <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-beloved-proposed-american-engagement.html">my Betrothed</a> and I moved in together. I'll spare you the sordid details of my own wedding planning (at least for now), and give you instead the fruits of my research. Behold: THE. MOST. AWESOME. WEDDINGS. EVER.*<br />
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<a href="http://100layercake.com/blog/archives/1345" style="font-weight: bold;">SURPRISE BACKYARD WEDDING</a><br />
You are invited to celebrate the engagement of Marisa and John...<span style="font-style: italic;">SIKE</span>! Here's how you pull off a wedding in 7 days, people. Note her brother's amazing toast and how she scored a Romona Keveza dream dress.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://100layercake.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/marisa_john4.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://100layercake.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/marisa_john4.png" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 358px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 489px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/20/fashion/weddings/20VOWS.html" style="font-weight: bold;"><a name='more'></a>ORPHANAGE IN INDIA</a><br />
Aretha Delight Davis and Dr. Angelo Elpithoforos Volandes got married in an orphanage in India and asked friends and family for donations rather than gifts to set up a scholarship fund for all 95 girls in the orphanage. Indian weddings are awesome anyway, but how about having 95 girls who will be like cousins to your children helping you get ready for the big day? The joy is palpable.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2009/12/17/style/32180143.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2009/12/17/style/32180143.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 328px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 448px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.stylemepretty.com/2010/08/02/ceci-new-york-wedding/" style="font-weight: bold;">PUERTO FRICKIN' RICO</a><br />
Oscar de la Renta gown. Spanish architecture. A procession through Old San Juan. A Puerto Rican percussion band, and, of course, FOOD! This professional wedding designer's wedding was so awesome, she used it as the cover story to launch her own lifestyle magazine. Is that a tax write-off?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.stylemepretty.com/wp-content/submissions/uploads/lisa@cecinewyork.com/4161/0768_MG_8325.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.stylemepretty.com/wp-content/submissions/uploads/lisa@cecinewyork.com/4161/0768_MG_8325.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 693px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 462px;" /></a><br />
<br />
*(on the internet)Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-88216233796302122602010-05-25T10:47:00.001-04:002010-05-25T10:49:52.130-04:00"You don't need hands to hold her heart."<object width="422" height="254"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gc4HGQHgeFE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gc4HGQHgeFE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="422" height="254"></embed></object>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-10619470893775207562010-04-16T08:52:00.003-04:002011-05-04T11:57:03.240-04:00For honesty's sakeIt's popular at a certain age to treat dating like a game, one where you manipulate people for sex or free meals, but playing with people's hearts, from whence their lifeblood flows, is cruel. I learned that lesson the hard way, and I decided to not be <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Rhf5n27BGc">a player no more</a>.<br />
<br />
Hard as this is, I have to be honest with some men who no longer have a chance with me. Here goes...<br />
<br />
Tony, Tony, Tony...please. I'm not <a href="http://www.wkw-inthemoodforlove.com/">In the Mood for Love </a>with you anymore. We have to stop this <a href="http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20041223/REVIEWS/41202002/1023">Infernal Affair</a>.<br />
<a href="http://pic4.sdnews.com.cn/NewsImg/2007/10/23/U2184P28T3D1759822F326DT20071023045342.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://pic4.sdnews.com.cn/NewsImg/2007/10/23/U2184P28T3D1759822F326DT20071023045342.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 412px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 362px;" /></a><br />
Adrian Brody, you knew from the get-go this was a rebound thing, because you're American Tony Leung, and I can't believe you have the nerve to call me after the Oscars when you <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4kzceTpmAY">kissed Halle Berry on national television</a>. Wutev. Don't look at me like that. I'm engaged now.<br />
<a href="http://goremasternews.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/adrien-brody.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://goremasternews.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/adrien-brody.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 525px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 452px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>George, of course, watching <a href="http://www.theupintheairmovie.com/">Up in the Air</a> stirred up old feelings, but you're in love (non-committal as ever, but I'm sure she thinks you love her), and I'm in love, too. We will always have Vegas.<br />
<a href="http://bittenandbound.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/george-clooney-in-michael-clayton.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://bittenandbound.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/george-clooney-in-michael-clayton.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 445px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 325px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/01/instead-of-crying.html">Ne-Yo</a>, I really meant it when I saw you last at the Tabernacle. Don't stop writing. You're a great guy. You'll find her. I'm just not her for you.<br />
<a href="http://www.fondosdeescritorio10.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/ne-yo.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.fondosdeescritorio10.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/ne-yo.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 386px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 484px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.cnn.com/CNN/anchors_reporters/lui.richard.html">Richard</a>, I lived in Atlanta for three years, so you had your chance. Sure hope that career at CNN Headline News marinates a steak like I do.<br />
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/CNN/anchors_reporters/images/lui.richard.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.cnn.com/CNN/anchors_reporters/images/lui.richard.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 450px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 280px;" /></a><br />
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Basta, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0305558/">Gael Garcia Bernal</a>. No te puedo amar nunca mas. Estoy prometida.<br />
<a href="http://www.cinemaisdope.com/news/films/motorcyclediaries/motorcycle_diaries.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.cinemaisdope.com/news/films/motorcyclediaries/motorcycle_diaries.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 347px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 523px;" /></a><br />
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I'll admit, <a href="http://www.david-tennant.com/">David</a>, we had good times on the set of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TARDIS">Tardis</a>, and you're smokin' for a Brit, but all good things come to an end. I'm betrothed.<br />
<a href="http://scifipulse.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/doctor-bus-publicity-496.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://scifipulse.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/doctor-bus-publicity-496.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 357px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 496px;" /></a><br />
<br />
Jetzt hast du Gruende auf dem Fussballplatz zu weinen, <a href="http://habs.theoffside.com/hot-ballers/michael-ballack-yes-yes.html">Michael Ballack</a>. Ich bin verlobt. Aber, I'll never forget that World Cup. You are a born leader, you sexy, sexy man.<br />
<a href="http://habs.theoffside.com/files/2009/01/ballack1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://habs.theoffside.com/files/2009/01/ballack1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 683px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 486px;" /></a><br />
<br />
Stop calling me, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Til_Schweiger">Til</a>. I can see your country code on my caller ID, and I can Google that you never finalized that divorce. I'm not going out with you. American <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/scrubs-vs-golddiggers.html">girls don't split the tab</a> with German heartthrobs, k? Auf neversehen.<br />
<a href="http://www.trishwylie.com/til%20schweiger.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.trishwylie.com/til%20schweiger.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 629px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 420px;" /></a><br />
<br />
John, I know you want me to think<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tq6Cz9IYD6M"> that song </a>was about me, but I loved your whole person, not just the musician songwriter. And now I'm going to marry someone who loves my whole person. Btw, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uROBS4IAUiI">this song</a> is about me and him. <br />
<a href="http://www.987kissfm.com/Pics/Artists/john_legend.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.987kissfm.com/Pics/Artists/john_legend.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 344px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 344px;" /></a><br />
<br />
Oh, this one hurts. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0449467/">Satoshi</a>...I know I'm the reason you altered your scene with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Babel_%28film%29">Rinko Kikuchi in Babel</a> to not sleep with her. It was gallant of you, but now I'm...engaged. Sayonara, my dear.<br />
<a href="http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20071208230657/eiga/images/c/c1/Satoshi_nikaido_babel.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20071208230657/eiga/images/c/c1/Satoshi_nikaido_babel.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 352px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 305px;" /></a>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-73805626847923333392010-04-12T19:38:00.009-04:002011-05-04T11:57:48.566-04:00My Beloved Proposed: An American EngagementI always felt that public proposals in Hollywood movies are an impossible promise. The subtext is, "If you would forget that I've acted like a churl for the past 90 minutes of this film, I'll give you a life of cinematic romance. If you won't, everyone here will remember you as a witch even if you've been the movie's heroine."<br />
<br />
<object height="231" width="384"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/P6210hj_fJ4&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/P6210hj_fJ4&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="384" height="231"></embed></object><br />
<br />
Ever wonder why these movies don't have sequels? Because the sequel would be dashed dreams and resentment.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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I woke up Sunday morning dreadfully dehydrated and whimpered to my Beloved, "I'm so hung over; would you bring me some water?" He brought a tray of water, tea, rose petals, and an <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/02/romance-and-recession-really.html" style="font-weight: bold;">engagement ring</a> fastened to an "engagement menu" of things I might like for breakfast. He assured me we could eat in bed (I hate crumbs in bed), because today was laundry day. After he said his heart's piece, he proposed marriage in <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/07/cultural-differences-meeting-each.html">English and German</a>. What could I say to this subtext, a promise of a life of quiet thoughtfulness? Yes, yes, yes, and ja.<br />
<br />
Then, when the croissants and sushi roll started to crumb as I knew they would, <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/petulant">petulance </a>filled me, and I flung the rose petals on the bed. He left the room and came back to answer my impulse with a velvety deluge of red and yellow.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMEYatpDik0iNSnHsmKhMLwYI6KT7c_hQa6S_Mrd7iEW2JHieoOUuzULhinrv5IVhQWo7tBW3ZrZa8bqCHKUi9UoAkFLsQyV9Wsm_4mQSsT_CoZzLXM9JISWnH6Rp9lqFSo4g-Aro9nPc/s1600/RosePetalFight1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459364629667831682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMEYatpDik0iNSnHsmKhMLwYI6KT7c_hQa6S_Mrd7iEW2JHieoOUuzULhinrv5IVhQWo7tBW3ZrZa8bqCHKUi9UoAkFLsQyV9Wsm_4mQSsT_CoZzLXM9JISWnH6Rp9lqFSo4g-Aro9nPc/s400/RosePetalFight1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
Apparently, "some rose petals" meant something different to the florist. The rose petal fight went on until there were rose petals in the soy sauce, in our fingernails, and then his roommate came home, and we rained rose petals on him, too. We decided that our children could also eat in bed on laundry day.<br />
<br />
So how do I feel? For one, I feel silly. I'm wanton with rose petals, and <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/past/issues/82feb/8202diamond1.htm">I hold out my hand</a> like Knowshown Moreno, when no one's looking.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYzYRenys1vOBPGFPoOtaHChbdIpg9FXxemc7k1PmmC6dazARKsWVoFV_W1ZYsYt5RhDwY9Y3jK0x7T_BPM-UnykDYcHM8CcW1qZZ8ybucR1chlRm6VP8FZgF_U4yqmTHxGWhVVQ0qgg/s1600/KnowshownBlock.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459378116482550882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYzYRenys1vOBPGFPoOtaHChbdIpg9FXxemc7k1PmmC6dazARKsWVoFV_W1ZYsYt5RhDwY9Y3jK0x7T_BPM-UnykDYcHM8CcW1qZZ8ybucR1chlRm6VP8FZgF_U4yqmTHxGWhVVQ0qgg/s400/KnowshownBlock.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 351px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Mostly, I'm so happy that I'm sad. Our families are so far flung, we got engaged in the American style; our families couldn't get together for a Vietnamese engagement ceremony. I love my Beloved - or my Betrothed - so much, I ache to hug the man from whence he came. I wish I could squeeze my parents for all their lessons on love. I'm so happy, I want to kiss my nieces and nephews and yell into my grandmother's ear (she's hard of hearing). They say globalization makes the world a village, and though it brought me my Beloved, it's not small enough to cross today.Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-29358376811817490602010-04-06T08:47:00.001-04:002010-04-06T09:19:35.245-04:00New look: You are air to me.Have you ever run from someone you wanted to hold? Held a <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day.html">grudge</a> longer than you could hold out hope? <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/10/loving-yourself.html">Hated</a> yourself so much, you tried to be <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/06/stop-frontin.html"> impossible</a> to love? You’re not that special, you know. I’ve felt <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/02/bad-day.html">that way</a>. And so has that lady on the train. And that dude that drops off your packages. And the person in the cubicle next to you. Just ask.<br /><br />Shut Up and Love's new look, with the blurry people in the background, is about this universal <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/08/pain-is-not-suffering.html">vexation</a>, how we feel and how others seem when we're loathe to love. See, people were lonely way before it was cool. And love –<a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/03/opposites-attracting.html">Love</a>! - isn’t great. Lemon gelato, that’s great. Love is breathing for your soul. Does breathing count as great? Well, I guess so, to someone who was suffocating.<br /><br />I’ll stop holding my breath, k? And you stop holding yours. Because you, my <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/01/friends-believe-in-each-other.html">friend</a>, are air to me. YOU are air to me. Is that weird? <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/04/vermont-gay-marriage-gender-roles-oh-my.html">Gay</a>? Unprofessional? To love you? Probably. But I love you. And I think you should love you, too. Yeah, it’s hard, but do it. Just shut up and love.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexhailong/137441501/page2/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 388px;" src="http://digital-photography-school.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/urban-blur-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-7501643956697942010-04-01T17:16:00.000-04:002010-04-01T17:17:03.252-04:00Relationship News Roundup<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.themansguidetolove.com/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 143px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHynO8t3h0EA-d8VpPZdi_6ko2GbTqX5c-zR6_YlRuzJD_s4hznn5wpqcTYYJRkpIIkZLok9XKF4uOv7JKGgU1UnOKMX9AiFurTMAMkbf_EgDNTq0yeEY8Dtgn7XDdfX_uJavDEIqIG3k/s320/MansGuidetoLove.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454247713200191346" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Men think about love, too. </span><br />And what thoughts! Somebody with a camera's going around asking men, “If you had one piece of advice that you’d give another man about love, what would it be?” Some answers are romantic, others pragmatic, but they all seem pretty honest to me. (Check out <a href="http://www.themansguidetolove.com/">the site</a>.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Love in arranged marriages, lots of it</span><br />Studies show that love in love marriages start out high but decreases over time. Love in arranged marriages starts out relatively low, naturally, as in some cases the people barely know each other. This scientist found that the love in arranged marriages, however, then <span style="font-style: italic;">increases </span>gradually, <span style="font-style: italic;">surpasses </span>the love in the love marriages at about five years. And 10 years out, it’s twice as strong. (Listen to <a href="http://www.scientificamerican.com/podcast/episode.cfm?id=arranged-marriages-can-be-real-love-10-03-11"><span style="font-style: italic;">Scientific American</span> podcast</a>.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Scent of a Man</span><br />I always wondered how I could enjoy the sweaty stench of my Beloved. Apparently, his hotness is because his immune system is very different from mine. Someone's starting a dating site that includes a personality test and a genetic profile. (See the <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/01/21/AR2010012105176.html?hpid=topnews">Washington Post article</a>.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Man marries pillow</span><br />A man in Korea has made a body pillow his bride. It's funny for about 2 seconds, before it's not. How isolated must we be for this to happen? (See the <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/10/korean-man-marries-pillow_n_494122.html">Huffington Post commentary</a>.)Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-83862438104325368222010-03-10T20:41:00.002-05:002010-03-10T20:51:25.302-05:005 Things about GriefAlternative title: why a relationship blogger might skip February.<br /><br />1. There might be one “thank you for your sympathy card” card in the greeting card aisle, but it's ugly and overpriced. (I'm sad, not blind.) Memorize the copy inside and buy a cheap pack of blank cards. <br /><br />2. “Parting,” as I've said, “is the cost of love.” Anguish is the cost of dying unexpectedly without a clear will. If you don't think you have a lot, you can have a will done in an hour <span style="font-style: italic;">today</span>. <br /><br />3. The worst time of the day is morning rush hour, when thousands surround me on their daily commute. I had dropped everything when these two people stopped breathing, because, presumably, everything had changed. But according to this highway parking lot and the radio traffic report, the only thing different today is me. I don't know how long the disconnect continues.<br /><br />4. You feel nothing, and grieving gives you the shits. <br /><br />5. Actually, you'll feel irritable and might give people you love shit. Remember to apologize and tell them you love them, because life is short.Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-46235836568102978762010-02-01T08:56:00.000-05:002010-02-01T08:56:00.317-05:00Loving My Countrymen<span style="font-size:130%;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:130%;">"It is your country you must help, not a political party. ...<span style="font-size:180%;">Your party exists in order to serve your country, not to create difficulties for another party</span> or the party in power. So, as a politician, you have to practice non-duality. You have to see that <span style="font-size:180%;">compassion is above any political affiliation.</span> This is not partisan politics but intelligent politics. They are politics that are humane, that aim at the well-being and transformation of society, not just at gaining power." </span></blockquote>-Thich Nhat Hanh referring to politics in his nation, France, in <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames</span></span>, which I'm currently reading to suck less as a Buddhist.Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-65278833219136156332010-01-26T18:21:00.005-05:002011-05-04T12:04:16.847-04:00Scrubs vs. GolddiggersSome guys are cheap, but most guys just want to avoid attracting golddiggers who will squander their life savings and make their children take out loans to go to community college. Others have modest means but have a wealth of creativity and thoughtfulness to offer a special someone. Some women are golddiggers, but most women just want to know they're not taken for granted in a relationship. For further explanation, please refer to the flow chart below.<br />
<br />
UPDATE: Here is a functioning link for "<a href="http://washingtondc.craigslist.org/nva/adg/1558880261.html">You might be this guy. Requires a separate flowchart. </a>"<br />
<a href="http://create.ly/g4xdu3gp3" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://create.ly/g4xdu3gp3" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 771px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 475px;" /></a>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-14193037819516873512010-01-21T08:05:00.001-05:002010-01-21T09:02:13.097-05:00Mental Illness: Part II<span style="font-style: italic;">Why does it hurt so when the ish hits the mental fan? I came across this quote researching the second in the <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/05/mental-illness-part-i.html">series of posts on loving someone dealing with mental illness.</a>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">“Mental illness is feared and has such a stigma because it represents a reversal of what Western humans . . . have come to value as the essence of human nature.<br /><br />...Because our culture so highly values . . . an illusion of self-control and control of circumstance, we become abject when contemplating mentation that seems more changeable, less restrained and less controllable, more open to outside influence, than we imagine our own to be.”<br /><br />-From "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/10/magazine/10psyche-t.html">The Americanization of Mental Illness</a>" published on Jan. 8, 2010</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.getreligion.org/wp-content/photos/rorschach.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 409px; height: 409px;" src="http://www.getreligion.org/wp-content/photos/rorschach.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-15180263952806704692010-01-13T12:09:00.000-05:002010-01-13T11:54:31.812-05:00Linguistics of Love Part III: Developing Dialects<p class="MsoNormal">Gary Chapman, an American pastor, witnessed plenty of confrontations in his family counseling practice. Couples came to him on the precipice of divorce, bitter because they still loved each other and angry because they thought that love should have been enough.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">From observing these families, each a Tower of Babel unto themselves, he wrote a book <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=shupanlo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B0015S1DE8&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr%22%20style=%22width:120px;height:240px;%22%20scrolling=%22no%22%20marginwidth=%220%22%20marginheight=%220%22%20frameborder=%220%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E"><i>The Five Love Languages </i></a>which identifies five different "languages" people express and understand love: words of affirmation, touch, gifts, quality time, and acts of service. Basically, if you love someone, but you do not love them in their language, they won't understand your message and will feel suffocated without love, like a plant in a dark pantry. Conversely, if you feel suffocated, but you know that person loves you, maybe you're just not recognizing the love language they're speaking.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This point of view helped me love my friends better (not more, because I can't love them more), as I knew instantly what their love languages are. Because I like languages, I'm trying to be fluent in all five.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cKRkIUXM85VF0UZKwDohWP8czkq2LKEYZumcpgneTtHck91pF0YjzsjWZASzJXNbyeeSZutjzOKrXiaiMZi_fkEt_0M2-8tPr1pemY7_HAD-pYVmjpcB-f_xmi8RkXQCcpK9MmXWhkc/s1600-h/IvyCleaningFace.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cKRkIUXM85VF0UZKwDohWP8czkq2LKEYZumcpgneTtHck91pF0YjzsjWZASzJXNbyeeSZutjzOKrXiaiMZi_fkEt_0M2-8tPr1pemY7_HAD-pYVmjpcB-f_xmi8RkXQCcpK9MmXWhkc/s400/IvyCleaningFace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426266353897381554" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">This understanding helped me make smarter matches, too, for myself and for others. Someone that needs words of affirmation, however, should not be fixed up with the strong silent type. I express love in acts of service, and that's great, because that's how my Beloved understands love. Lucky for me, he is very organized, so once he learned that quality time is what I need, he was able to make time together a priority even though his natural instinct is to give gifts.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">He learned another love language being with me just as he perfected English in his studies in America. We've developed our own dialect with euphemisms and idiomatic expressions and gestures of love, just as my parents spoke a Vietnamese dialect borne of their inter-regional marriage, a linguistic manifestation of the compromises and shared experience that tie all couples together over time. (To my linguists: when we have kids, we'll have our own speech community.)<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Love can be expressed in many ways, and that’s part of the fun. Be open to any expression.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">“I love you” is expressed by “I want you” (te quiero) in Spanish, “(you) are (a) love(-source) (to me)” (suki da) in Japanese, “I love towards you” (aku cinta pada mu) in Indonesian, “I love a part of you” (!) (rakastan sinua) in Finnish, “I wish good (things to happen) to you” (ti voglio bene) in Italian, “to-me from-you love is” (mujhe tum-se pyar hê) in Hindi and many other languages spoken in India, “love I-have-you” (maite zaitut) in Basque, “to me you me-love-are” (me shen mi-kvar-khar) in Georgian (Georgia, southern Caucasus), “I I-you-love” (she ro-haihu) in Guarani (Paraguay). -<span style="font-style: italic;">A Language-Lover’s Dictionary of Languages </span>(French edition: Paris, Plon, 2009) by linguist <a href="http://schott.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/12/16/q-and-a-the-death-of-languages">Claude Hagège</a></p>Love is not a prescribed set of actions. How boring would that be? It's a practice at understanding, an act as colorful, varied, surprising, and irregular as language.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitP_5bvq22_LS8l_yM6-fraP4pKuZM_XqB2ehBLfKsay7WguptJ-UubJeWUhK_Ie4LTlH_zJA1wvZdOYcXU5Lo7-1ahouhEH3E2WkM0-yi_VmyrCgdWcz3JJ3kWpfnF9OxpUwcZ2D35EM/s1600-h/MouthSpeaking.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitP_5bvq22_LS8l_yM6-fraP4pKuZM_XqB2ehBLfKsay7WguptJ-UubJeWUhK_Ie4LTlH_zJA1wvZdOYcXU5Lo7-1ahouhEH3E2WkM0-yi_VmyrCgdWcz3JJ3kWpfnF9OxpUwcZ2D35EM/s400/MouthSpeaking.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426267586580931106" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Previously: </span><a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/linguistics-of-love-part-i-confusing.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Linguistics of Love Part I: Confusing the Language</span></a><br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/linguistics-of-love-part-ii-learning.html">Linguistics of Love Part II: Learning Another’s Language</a><br /></p>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-52289739706967860552010-01-05T08:08:00.010-05:002010-01-13T11:54:00.267-05:00Linguistics of Love Part II: Learning Another’s Language<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_EFw0VL1NZIEc_Ry3Pr4uDWagUGsNH1RQIGQCRPua4McBrlut5rdVuynPRoaxGvLgu94XcfOFc1Fm_OP4dzUz4LVPVhGM7ze814l5tkfQVW-vAVo2qKQkwkKMQejreQTkGR4ttu_z1s/s1600-h/botticelli_mars_and_venus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_EFw0VL1NZIEc_Ry3Pr4uDWagUGsNH1RQIGQCRPua4McBrlut5rdVuynPRoaxGvLgu94XcfOFc1Fm_OP4dzUz4LVPVhGM7ze814l5tkfQVW-vAVo2qKQkwkKMQejreQTkGR4ttu_z1s/s400/botticelli_mars_and_venus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423430592836823698" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes, learning English, I felt heady with victory at comprehension or making myself understood. I could lick the words “Zamboni machine” at the ice rink the way the other kids relished an ice cream cone. Other times, the process made me an unknowing object of derision and filled me with rage like a wild animal on a choke leash. But now I speak English, nay - <a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-countrymen.html">LOVE English</a>- and everything's tops.<br /><br />Since Babel, every one speaks a language unto himself, and we long for someone to speak our soul fluently. Luckily, language can -with effort- be learned. The best way to acquire a new language is to learn it in terms of itself, without translation, just as monolingual native speakers acquire the language as children. Once, I found myself on Lan Yu aka Orchid Island, off the coast of Taiwan where the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYX6wwtgwFg">Yami </a>people live; they do not speak English. When the first old man I met would point to the sky, I would try to figure out if the word he uttered meant sky, cloud, up, or grey. Rock was straightforward, as was "drink up." Usually, I got him right; sometimes, I gladly learned that I had mis-learned. But mis-learning isn't the same as NOT learning. Hell, in America, I mispronounced the verb “to iron” (I spoke it just as it’s spelled ire-run instead of i-urn) until I was 23, and I still can never remember whether I should cry over spilt beans or not.<br /><br />When learning a new language, one often encounters "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_friend">false friends</a>," words that sound the same but don't mean the same thing. A well-known one is <span style="font-style: italic;">embarasada </span>in Spanish. It means pregnant, not embarrassed. Often, there are false friends between the language that <a href="http://www.oprah.com/article/relationships/dating/200807_omag_men_reveal">Men </a>speak and the one that Women speak. When my brother says, "Man, my USB mouse isn't working," my boyfriend understands to help him fix it. When I say, "Man, my USB mouse isn't working," it sounds the same, but roughly translated into Manspeak, I said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Empathize with my frustration, while I fix my USB mouse.</span>*" (*Technology terms are the same across many languages.) I am able to translate this false friend because (a) I observed them having this conversation among their own kind and (b) I have spoken similar Woman idioms and received similarly perplexing replies in Man. (Most only have to make the mistake a few times to learn that "to be embarrassed" is "<span style="font-style: italic;">se dar vergüenza.</span>")<br /><br />Without these confrontations with confusion, comprehension cannot emerge.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Previously:<br /><a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/linguistics-of-love-part-i-confusing.html">Linguistics of Love Part I: Confusing the Language</a><br />Coming up:<br /><a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/linguistics-of-love-part-iii-developing.html">Linguistics of Love Part III: Developing Dialects</a></span>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7009060241875620352.post-75575525051384984042010-01-03T12:36:00.003-05:002010-01-13T11:53:33.327-05:00Linguistics of Love Part I: Confusing the Language<blockquote><span style="font-size:130%;">{define: word} n. a speech sound, serving to communicate meaning</span></blockquote><br />"<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/06/fashion/06love.html">Is ‘I Love You’ merely a set of sounds?</a>" I surveyed some friends. My Beloved, whose first language is German, answered that he loves me in every language, while his roommate, who speaks English and Patois, feels that “I Love You” in either tongue doesn't have the weight he's told it's supposed to. In my own family, whose primary language is Vietnamese, we never heard the words until my father dropped me off for college. In the parking lot, he said, “I love you,” in English, as if the Vietnamese words are a curse stalking survivors of the Second Indochinese War. It seems, from my informal survey, that the meaning of love and the speech sound that represents it are no more necessarily acquainted than third cousins.<br /><br />But if words cannot be counted upon to deliver even the most universal sentiments intact, how can we trust any speech? Why do I bother calling my parents or writing this blog under the long shadow of Babel?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e1/Brueghel-tower-of-babel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 679px; height: 511px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e1/Brueghel-tower-of-babel.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The legend from the book of Genesis goes that the sons of Noah planned to build a tower that would reach Heaven, The Tower of Babel. To punish our arrogance, God “confused the language of the whole earth.” From then, even two workers facing each other could not communicate to move a brick, so they stopped building the city, and “the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of the whole earth.” God, doesn’t that explain so much? Now, even people ostensibly speaking the same language can feel the distance of continents between them.<br /><br />Coming up:<br /><a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/linguistics-of-love-part-ii-learning.html">Linguistics of Love Part II: Learning Another’s Language</a><br /><a href="http://shutupandlove.blogspot.com/2010/01/linguistics-of-love-part-iii-developing.html">Linguistics of Love Part III: Developing Dialects</a>Ivyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03685973194542580936noreply@blogger.com6