Story follow up...

Okay, so yesterday I took the deep breath and posted a small piece of unfinished fiction for you all.  First off I want to thank everyone for reading it and giving me feedback. I appreciate it so much.  Secondly I wanted to clear something up....

In my original post about writing with a friend I talked about her being brilliant and I stand by that statement, but I wanted to make clear that I am not really comparing my writing to hers.  We are very different stylistically (at least so far) and also are just different people so our writing will be that way as well.  So, yes, I think she is brilliant and I am honored to call her a friend of mine and to know that she will be by my side through these first few steps in to the big bad world, but no, I don't think I am less than brilliant because of her writing.  For anyone who really knows me you all know I am pretty sure I'm a genius...and I look very young and thin. ;-)

I picked up a creative writing class online at the beginning of this year and was talking to a friend about it a few weeks ago.  She asked what I thought and I had to admit I wasn't really enjoying it that much.  It was pushing me to write a little more, topics and subjects are given and you write a small piece, and that part I appreciated but the focus of the class is finding your voice in writing.  I told her that one thing I felt I already had was my voice.  Brent and I have talked about it as well and I told him the same thing.  I feel as though if you are reading my blog, nonfiction writing but still my writing, you always know it's my blog.  My voice is pretty clear.  I find that is the same in my fiction pieces.  I have tried switching it up a little but I am more comfortable with my own style, obviously, so I always revert back to it.

Now the really great thing that came out of posting yesterday is that you all agree!  That was the biggest piece of feedback that I got.  That you all know and recognize my voice.  I cannot tell you how great that was to hear. See, I think I am pretty funny. Not hilarious gut busting funny but subtle snide funny.  I crack myself up when I am writing. But I also know that one person's "funny" is another person's "I just don't get it."  Do I expect everyone to find my writing funny?  No, I really don't.  But just knowing that there are those of you out there that do makes me happy.  So thank you for that.  

So here we go.  Mostly my blog will still be filled with the random thoughts that pop in my head on a daily basis, but there will be some more fiction thrown in here and there as Dana holds my hand and pushes me out into traffic on this one.  I might even post some of the things I tried to make NOT sound like me and see how you all like them...except I am worried you will like them more and then I will have an existential breakdown forcing me to rediscover who I truly am...or I will tell you all too damn bad and go back to writing what I like. It would be one of those two for sure...

Facebook Frank

Frank found out he was getting a divorce the same way most of his friends did. It was the day his Facebook status read: “Frank Allen is a lying, cheating bastard who should learn to log out of Facebook before he leaves for work.”

It had started out a fairly typical Monday morning. Frank had logged on to Facebook before leaving for work then realized that he had coffee and doughnut duty for the morning staff meeting. He had closed his laptop, dashed out the door and made it to work with treats and time to spare. Settling in for the first meeting of the day he didn’t give his computer at home a second thought. Then the first text came at 10:05, “Dude! Check your Facebook account!” Within twenty minutes he had 24 more texts. By the time he was able to get out of the meeting and log on he had 65 comments on his new status. That was the beginning of a very long day. Followed by a long night. Then a long week. Then a long year.   

Frank and Beth Anne started couple’s therapy and tried to make a go at patching things up. It was during their first few sessions that Frank learned what had happened that day. As soon as he had left for work Beth Anne had opened his laptop and then his account. Seems she just knew something was going on and she was determined to find out.  It didn’t take her long. Frank had never deleted a single email exchange between himself and his girlfriend. The more Beth Anne read the madder she got until she changed his status, called a lawyer, packed a bag and went to stay with her sister. She was still mad enough at him three weeks later that she didn’t speak to him outside of the therapist’s office. They had even negotiated the time for the counseling sessions via text messages. 

At first Frank thought that they might work things out. He felt that being in counseling with Beth Anne would help fix their issues. His friends that had been through divorces tried to warn him that what he thought the counseling sessions were going to be weren’t what they were going to be. But Frank was optimistic. And he made the mistake of believing the therapist when she said that her office was a “judgment free zone.” That in that space he and Beth Anne could tell the truth and deal with tough problems and they could, if they did the work, come out of this stronger. Well Dr. Bell might have been working in a “judgment free zone” but Beth Anne was not.

It seems as though the answer to “Why did you have an affair?” should not have been, “Because I felt like I deserved it.” But he did feel that way. Or at least he did at the time. Now he wasn’t as sure. 

He had worked hard to get to his position at work. He had put everything in his life toward making a success out of himself. He and Beth Anne had been married for ten years. She hadn’t worked for the past three. They didn’t need the money from her job so when she was passed over for a promotion she had wanted and said she felt like quitting, Frank told her to go ahead. Frank was proud of this.  He felt like it was a gift to Beth Anne. Beth Anne said she thought it was his way of saying he didn’t think she would ever amount to anything in her career.

They had never had children. When they got married neither he nor Beth Anne wanted them. Frank hadn’t changed his mind but Beth Anne had. She swore she had talked to Frank about wanting children now but Frank couldn’t honestly remember her seriously saying she wanted them. And even if she had made the passing comment about maybe now that she wasn’t working they should rethink having kids Frank knew she would miss her freedom too much if they did. Apparently this made him controlling and demeaning in Beth Anne’s eyes.

The affair started innocently enough. If by innocent you mean seeing a woman in your office and thinking, “I bet she’s a hell of a fuck.” and then actually getting drunk enough at the bar one night after work to say it to her face. And her being drunk enough to take you up on the offer. If that’s what you mean by innocent then yes, it started innocently enough. She wasn’t a subordinate; she was a manager from another branch in for a weeklong face to face meeting. She and Frank just took the face to face part a little further than it was intended. They had kept up the affair for the past 6 months. Mostly via dirty emails and phone calls and a few clandestine meetings when she needed to visit the home office or he could get away for a day off. Frank had discovered there was nothing hotter than the drive to a Holiday Inn on the edge of town.

Yes, he felt like he had earned this little bonus of the job. He worked hard. He was successful. He was still attractive. He gave everything to Beth Anne, a house, income, free time to do whatever she wanted, why shouldn’t he get a little reward as well? He hadn’t been unfaithful to Beth Anne in the previous ten years. Or not like this. There had been the odd one night stands here and there while he was travelling, and there was the woman in Vegas during a buddy’s bachelor party, but this had been the only long term affair. This confession did not go over well in the "judgment free zone" either.

After a month of twice weekly sessions he and Beth Anne decided to divorce. She couldn’t get past his affair, or pattern of affairs as she now put it. And he couldn’t get past the fact that she had logged in to his Facebook account. Dr. Bell seemed to think that this was the lesser of the two issues, and that Beth Anne’s breach of trust was caused by Frank’s behavior. Frank didn’t agree. He asked for forgiveness. He told Beth Anne that it was over between him and the other woman. And it was. As soon as Beth Anne found out about the affair Frank’s girlfriend dumped him like a bad habit. She was also married and didn’t want to be caught up in the crossfire of his dissolving marriage. It seems as though Frank was just a fun distraction for her, not a lifelong commitment. At first Frank was a little insulted, but then had to admit to himself he would have done the same thing if their situations had been reversed. He tried to share this with Beth Anne in the “judgment free zone” but it seems as though the fact that he didn’t even love the woman he was ruining their marriage over was worse. He just couldn’t win.

The divorce went as smoothly as a divorce could go. There were no children to fight over. They sold the condo in the city and the lake house and split the profits. Frank offered to make alimony payments since he didn’t think Beth Anne could get a job that would pay enough to support her shoe habit. Beth Anne called him a condescending prick and turned it down. His buddy’s thought this was good news, but it just puzzled Frank. Even when he thought he was being nice he was misunderstood. 

He got a new smaller place even closer to work and went on with his life. Within 6 months Beth Anne had a new job as a museum curator and was dating a man with a net worth three times Frank’s. They ran in to each other at a function once and as Frank was sizing up her date Beth Anne leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, he could never compare to you.”  Frank had started to smile when she followed it up with, “Thank God.”

Story Time!

Okay, so you know those times when you open your mouth and later you sort of regret it?  This is one of those times...

I have a friend who writes.  I have known she writes for a long time but had never had the privileged of reading anything of hers. This weekend that changed.  She sent me a message on Friday letting me know she had set up a blog account and would be posting pieces there.  Okay, this was such good news!  And being the supportive friend that I am, and also needing a little push to get some of my fiction out there, I told her we could write together, oh wouldn't that be fun!  We could pick different topics and stretch our creative chops.  Sounds like a great idea right?

Well it turns out that she is freaking brilliant!  Don't believe me?  Here is her first blog piece.  Take a minute, let it soak in.  How great was that?  So now I am faced with the choice...do I laugh and tell her I was just kidding or take a deep breath and post something of my own?

Well I did a little of both.  I sent her a message basically letting her know that I was so not in her league...and then dusted off an old piece that I have had kicking around in my head and on my computer for a few years.

Now you all get to meet Frank.  His story has been sitting half formed in my head and then on the computer for ages. I think he fits in with another group of short vignettes I have written but I am not sure how. And I'm not sure what else to do with him. When you read the piece (which is much longer than most blogs I post) you will notice it just sort of ends. I have more to write with him, but I am not sure which direction to take him yet.  Will he follow a path of self discovery and become a decent human being? Will he become even more unlikable and unaware? What happens next? These are things you would think I would know since I made him up.  But I don't yet. So what you get is the introduction of Frank.

Be kind.

More words...

So I know I've already sort of covered this topic here and here, but apparently I have more to say about words and their use. How do I know I have more to say? Because the world keeps throwing examples at me and my "blog brain" keeps writing this, over and over...so out it goes!

If you haven't read the two blogs I linked in the first line; quick synopsis is I swear, A LOT, and I also think that you need to watch your use of racial and sexual slurs. I realized not long ago that I missed another word use that really bothers me in how common it's become and that's what triggered this blog. I will get to that in a moment, but I am going to start with tone.

Isn't it amazing how a word can be just a word until someone changes the tone? I had someone throw the word "perfect" at me the other day. Now perfect is a wonderful word. It can mean so many things and they are mostly good.  But the way it was used at that time was as a finely sharpened knife to slip in between my ribs straight to my heart. It was tossed out as a weapon. And it hit its mark. Amazing how tone and intent can change things isn't it? Which was my point in the first blog I linked.

So that was one thing that pinged in my head again that I need to write this blog. Words. Intent. Then a few days ago a friend of mine used the word "fag" in a comment on my Facebook status. I thought for a long time about calling him out on it, but didn't because he is gay. It's that same thing I talked about in the other blog. If you are part of the community and you use it does that make it okay? I don't use it. I use gay, homosexual, lesbian. I don't use fag. Just because I have heard it used in so many ugly ways. I also don't use fag-hag, which I think is just a nasty and bitter phrase no matter who is using it. But he is gay, he does use the word fag, he obviously doesn't mean anything negative by it, so I ended up not saying anything. Until now, but it's my blog and I will ponder if I want to...

Which then brings me to my last point. The one that started this blog pinging around in my head even though I kept trying to reason with my "blog brain" that I had ALREADY written about words and language. TWICE. But apparently I have more to say so here we go...

A few weeks ago I was talking to C about his classes. He has one instructor in particular who has word issues. He is that sort of militant feminist you only seem to find in college settings. And bookstores in Portland, according to Portlandia... Anyway...he is one of those that uses person instead of man. Like fireperson, policeperson, and would most likely want to spell women with a y. Womyn. You know the type? The ones that take a serious issue, like gender inequality, and make it insane.

So anyway....C was telling me about a conversation this instructor was having with one of the women in the gaming program. She was talking about a game and that she had been "raped" in points. He stopped her and proceeded to lecture her about the use of the word rape in such a context. I had to admit to C that I am really uncomfortable with the casual use of the word among gamers and the general population myself. It bothers me. A lot. The act of rape is a violent, scary, horrible offense. We don't have any other word to use to describe what it is. There is nothing we can say that can invoke the terror, the pain, the awfulness of the act. To take the word and use it to mean that you paid more at the car dealership than you wanted to, or you lost a lot of points or gold in a game, it bothers me.

The first time I can remember hearing and associating the word with what it really meant was when I was around 12 or so. Now I had, obviously, heard the word and I knew what it meant. But my first "holy shit" moment was around that age. I had cut open my finger and was waiting in the ER with my mother to get stitched up. There was a young woman, maybe 16 or 17 years old sitting near us. I couldn't stop looking up at her. Her face was bruised and swollen. Her lip was split and it would drip blood down her chin that she would wipe up calmly with a towel she was holding that was already red. Her jeans were soaked with blood that I, at first, thought had come from her lip, but now I am not so sure. She moved over to sit near my mother and I and passed us a note, we found out she was deaf and dumb, the note said..."He did rape to me." Shortly after that the police came and she was taken back for her exam and to give her statement. I never saw her again. But I never forgot that moment. He did rape to me.

That's rape.

You all know I had my own experience and it ended up much better than hers. It even took me a long time to classify what happened to me as attempted rape because it didn't go as badly as it could have. But that's what it was. Attempted rape. He tried to do rape to me. It's ugly. It's horrible. It's scary.

So as C and I were talking about it he told me that the biggest issue that he and his friends had with it is that this was an older male lecturing a younger female about the use of the word rape. It made her uncomfortable. I told him I was actually glad that it did and that was really my point. That the word itself hasn't lost all of it's effectiveness yet if  it could still make her feel that way. Yes, men get raped, I know that, but it's generally a man on woman crime. It's not about sex. It's about violence. It's about domination and humiliation. And I don't want the word to lose that power. And it will if we keep using it casually. I don't want to see a day where someone tells you they have been raped and your reaction is blasé because you assume she is talking about a video game or a car deal. I want that word to hold its power.

I realize I am fighting a losing battle here, I see it almost daily on game forums and hear it in conversations about very mundane things. But I still had to write about. To get it out of my head. And to hopefully make a point. Yes, I swear.  No, I don't believe there are "good words" and "bad words".  Yes, I think intent behind a word can change the entire meaning of the word. But I also believe that words are powerful. And some words should be used only when there is no other way to get your meaning across. Don't let a casual use of a word let you ever forget how ugly the act it describes really is.

He did rape to me.

Yes, but what do you THINK about that?

As most of you know to prevent my brain from further turning to mush and leaking out of my ears I decided to pick up a few classes this year.  My first thought had been to take some classes at the local junior college.  Then I thought maybe I would audit some at one of the number of colleges or universities in the area.  Then the heavens parted and the angels sang and I discovered Open Courses.  These are FREE courses offered online from top universities around the country. I can pick up classes from Yale, Harvard, Stanford, University of Michigan, anyplace I want, pretty much any subject I want and for free and since I am not interested in earning a degree or getting class credit this is perfect for me.  That and the ability to change subjects and universities whenever I want to, love it.

The first thing I discovered is that downloading them all in to iTunes meant that the lecture on the top of the list was not the first lecture so when I started it and was completely lost it was okay...I really was coming in to the middle of a talk and I didn't understand what the professor seemed to think I should because I hadn't heard the 13 lectures before that one. So, phew, sorted out and on to lecture number one.  Shorter lecture, outlining the basics of the class and what we were going to learn.  Then at the end of the class Professor Shapiro reminds everyone to read Eichmann in Jerusalem for the next class. Oh, great!  Since I don't have access to a syllabus I am so glad he mentioned the reading so I could prepare. I find the book at the local library, check it out and settle in to read...over 300 pages!  Before the next class? Oh my...well let's just say that I didn't pick up the next lecture in two days like I had planned but a week later. Another benefit of taking the classes online.

Now here is where I start to sound like an old lady so bear with me. The second lecture starts and Professor Shapiro asks a few questions about the reading. While doing the reading we were supposed to keep two questions in mind 1. What two things made you the most uncomfortable about Eichmann's actions? and 2. What two things made you the most uncomfortable about the events surrounding his apprehension, trial and execution? Do you know how frustrating it is to be "in" a class discussion and not be able to discuss?  You have to sit back and hope one of those students made your point. But they didn't. And I got more and more frustrated with them.  These are students at Yale. YALE for goodness sake. And instead of talking about what they thought, what made them uncomfortable, they were reciting back passages from the book. Now, this is fairly impressive in and of itself, to retain what you read and be able to pull it out, but it's not what YOU think.

I had to take a deep breath and remember that this is an introductory class. These are freshman. They might be freshman at Yale, but the are still 18 or 19 year old kids. And we haven't taught them how to think. Yes, you heard me. We fail our kids all through school on that level. We teach them how to take standardized tests. We teach them how to spout back the facts. But we fail at teaching them to THINK. And these kids showed over and over again that they had no idea what they thought about what they had read. It would take the professor three or four stabs at an answer with one student just to get a glimmer of something he could run with. And I could just imagine the hundreds of notes being taken out in the lecture hall of students trying to copy down what they were supposed to have thought....

You all know that C is extremely intelligent. But here is something you probably don't know. He flat out failed a TAG test he was given in the second grade when we lived in Colorado Springs. Or he would have had he not been taking it one on one with the TAG specialist as an experiment she was running on profoundly gifted children. She would ask a question and he would give an answer. It would be the wrong answer from what the test said was right. So she would ask him why he thought that was the right answer. He would explain it and she would have to admit that his answer was just as correct as the test answer. Her theory was that a lot of kids who are brilliant get labeled as having "test anxiety" or being "bad at tests" when really it's that the tests are too rigid. They don't accommodate thinking. Yes, they are easier to grade, but no, they don't facilitate teaching our kids to THINK about why an answer is the right or wrong answer. Dates, math problems, State capitals, these are all things that have a right and wrong answer. But themes from stories, lessons from history, these are not things we should be telling our kids the meaning of.  These are things we should be listening to them tell us what they think. Then questioning them as to why. And then why again.

Every parent of a toddler knows the dreaded Why? phase of development. When every answer is met with Why? It's exhausting. But it's so important to tell them why. And then to turn around and ask them why all the rest of their lives when they are telling you what they think or even more importantly what they KNOW. Why? Why is that right? Why do you feel that way? Why? Why? Why?  Only when they can answer why will they really know what they think.  Being able to defend your position means understanding why you have taken that one.

We were lucky with C in that he went to a middle school that facilitated deeper thinking about issues. Not just taking a test and spouting back answers but WHY? Now I wrote last year about a group of parents who were unhappy with their children not making the cut to get in to Summa, and these parents won the "it's not faiiiiiiirrrr" argument and now the admission criteria is much broader.  I am not happy with the decision on one hand.  The difference between 99th and 97th percentile is larger than you think and as the parent of a 99th percentile kid I know the need for schools and classrooms for kids like him.  But on the other hand if it gives more students a chance to learn how to think about issues instead of just learning the answer the test is looking for then that's a good thing.

C's high school also had great teachers that taught thinking.  He also learned how to take standardized tests over the years.  Learning what the expected answer is instead of what could also be the right answer.  And he faced the same issues in his freshman classes last year at school that I did in my online class.  Frustration with fellow classmates who didn't understand the difference between, What did you read? and What do you think about what you read? Big difference. And an important one.

Parents out there, teach your kids that there are right and wrong answers and there are answers that are just theirs alone.  The important part is WHY?

Oh..and as a follow up to the class room syllabus. I found it online after the second lecture just by chance Googling the professor's name.  And I discovered that the reason why he thought nothing of assigning a three hundred plus page book to read over a weekend for a class was that he only assigned a few chapters....oh....well the whole book was interesting anyway. Lots of things in there to think about....

The Spirits are getting restless.....

It's funny sometimes how things tie together. Last Saturday night I had a dream that upset me so much I had a gloomy day Sunday because of it. Don't you hate those types of dreams? The ones that just don't let you go? It was about my dad. We were in Albuquerque and he was trying to tell me something. He would start the sentence just fine but when he got to the important part his words would all garble and mush. It kept happening and I started thinking, "Oh no! Dad's having a stroke!" then that weird twilighty part of sleep happened where I started waking up and weaving real world and dream together. So my first thought was I needed to call home and make sure Dad was okay because this dream had been so real, then the real real world crashed in and I remembered that Dad was gone.

Sunday night I dreamed about Dad again. But this time he was very quietly hanging around everyone but not saying anything. I would start to talk to him and someone else would come over and start talking to me instead so I never got to say anything to him. And no one else did as well. But he was smiling at everyone, just watching things go on. It was a more peaceful dream but I was still off on Monday because of it. Then I talked to my niece who said she had been having bad dreams as well. I told her I had dreamed of Dad two nights in a row and she said she had dreamed of Grandpa as well. That was interesting.

Then came Monday night. I told Brent as I was falling asleep, "Let's see what the night has in store for me this time." Not my Dad. Grandma Beulah. Beulah is my sister Ann's mother. She passed over ten years ago. But there she was, front and center of my dream. But unlike the two with my dad this had a whole different feel. We were all at my brother and sister's house getting ready for a party. Grandma Beulah was telling everyone where to set things up, what to cook, how to cook it and generally running the show. She was probably 15 years younger than she was when she died, though we were all our correct ages, and she was smiling and joking and having a fabulous time. I woke up on Tuesday thinking about Beulah, missing her but smiling. Just a whole different experience.

Now comes the weird part....

Yesterday I was talking to my mother. We were talking about how she was feeling. As many of you know she has some health issues that make her calcium levels in her blood skyrocket. When this happens she displays symptoms that mirror dementia. She normally has a monthly infusion that absorbs some of this excess and keeps her at an even keel. She hasn't had an appointment since December and won't have one until early February so everyone has been checking on her state to make sure she is fine. She told me she thought she was doing okay but it was hard to tell since she is still grieving for dad and adjusting to life without him there. She said it's tricky to know if she feels different because her health is off or if she feels different because she is different. She said she still thinks to herself, "Oh I need to tell Marshall about that!" and then thinks..."Oh no, I don't. He already knows."

Then she told me that she sort of felt a hole, like Dad left this week. She said she had felt him around the house up until this past weekend. She had been dreaming of him quite a lot and this past Sunday(?!) night she dreamed that he was standing on one side of the mountain with two women and a man and she was on the other. She would call to him and he wouldn't pay her a lick of attention. But he was laughing and smiling and talking with the people he was with. She said when she woke up she felt like he was gone.

When my dad died we had him cremated. When mom dies we will do the same. Then we are mixing their ashes and spreading them on the east side of the mountain. She lives on the west side of the mountain right now. Two of my older sisters and an older brother died before dad did.

What do I think this all means? In my dream Saturday Dad was trying to tell me something, I don't know what, I couldn't understand him. Then Sunday he was just watching all of us, smiling, taking it in but not interacting. My niece got a visit as well, maybe other family members too. Then Mom dreamed that he was already on the other side of the mountain and was with Marsha, Marcia and Mark. Monday I dreamed about Beulah, who was younger, refreshed, happy and healthy. Dad's gone. I don't get talk to him anymore or he to me, but he will still be around checking in, watching us all, time passes, it gets better. That's what I think those dreams meant.

And yes, it could all have been just a giant coincidence that we three dreamed of Dad at the same time. That I dreamed he was watching us but not interacting and that Mom dreamed he was moving on with their other children. It could have been. It could all have just been in our heads. But then again, maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was Dad letting us know he was letting go and it was time for us to do the same. To move to the next phase of our lives. The one thing I don't have that the rest of my family does is a firm belief in what happens next. My family believes in a physical heaven and hell. That there is an afterlife and they firmly believe they will all be reunited in heaven once they die. I don't know. I have a theory as to what comes next but the only way to know for sure is to die, and I'm not there yet. But even with such a different belief system working at our core, my mother and I both dreamed of Dad. Of a moving on for him. Of a peace for him. So coincidence or not, I am talking comfort from that. I would tell my Dad about this, but as my mother says, he already knows.

And he would want a better punchline....

What Princess are you?

I love Disneyland. You all know that. I have blogged about it before. We don't go as often as some, but much more often than others. And we always have a good time there. It's familiar and new all at the same time.  Each trip we do our favorites and seem to find something new to do as well. Right now I am wearing a Disneyland sweatshirt and a ball cap that has a dragon twisted in to mouse ears. My favorite Disney t-shirt was the one I had that was the Yin/Yang symbol as mouse ears. Wore it out I wore it so much. I love Eeyore even though I am more of a Tigger and I will ride Thunder Mountain Railroad until you are bored to tears with it all. And yes, I have been known to skip my way down Mainstreet USA.

But being the mother of a boy I never had to do Disney Princess Parties. Or dress ups or theme rooms. Which is good because my favorite Disney Princesses aren't princesses at all. There is Maleficent. Who is the "Mistress of all Evil" or the evil fairy godmother if you read the story. But she can turn into a dragon and wears purple and black and is really just as bad-ass as they come. So absolutely my favorite. My more traditional pick for favorite princess wasn't a princess either, at least at the start of the story. It's Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

I loved this movie. The re-release is happening right now and I am tempted to go see it in the theater again, even though 3D movies make my head hurt. There really wasn't anything about this movie I didn't like. Belle gets the princess treatment from Disney but really she was just a smart girl who fell in love with a man despite his outward gruffness. Even though the village catch, Gaston, was interested in her. No one tromps around in their boots like Gaston.  How can you not like a song with that line in it? We almost named our cat Samson Gaston. Anyway...the movie had me hooked when you see Belle wandering through town with her nose buried in a book. I think it was probably the same for every girl/woman who watched that movie that was a little more bookish than princessy growing up. And I think it also taps into that desire to be loved for who you are, and THEN get the Prince and the castle and the gowns and the servants. I mean, we all sort of want to be taken care of, just a little right?  :-)

But the Belle I identify with the most is the one that was overwhelmed when seeing Beast's library. The one that could walk through a busy day reading a book and dreaming about what life was like in far away exotic places, ignoring the fact that the villagers around her though she was a little off. The one that could take the time to get to know someone and find out their story as well. The one who was willing to sacrifice herself for her father. Yes, it's still a Disney story. Good wins. Evil loses. The boy and girl live happily ever after as a prince and princess and all that fluff. But I still love Belle.

It also doesn't hurt that Belle is a brunette. I mean sure, Snow White had dark hair but until Shrek did this with her she was pretty umm...let's just say sweet and leave it at that, right? Red-headed Ariel gets points for not being blonde, but she was kind of ditsy as well. Not her fault, living such a sheltered life but it wasn't the kind of ditsy I have to own up to, it was the uneducated ditsy. Though Little Mermaid gets points for having the most unintentionally dirty line in a Disney song.

Anyway...what Disney princess are you? And I have to own up to the fact that I haven't seen Pocahontas, Mulan, The Princess and the Frog or Tangled (mother of a son, remember?) so I might end up changing from Belle at some point...though I doubt it. Even though the previews for Tangled show Rapunzel as pretty awesome and I have been known to grow out my own locks...she's blonde after all, and Tinkerbell really put me off Disney blondes...don't get me started on Tink....