Day 130: "Princess & the Gator"

At a recent work luncheon, we were divided up into groups and were assigned with the task of creating our own fairy tale, as well as with the task of writing and illustrating it, all within a 15-minute time frame. What my group came up with was "Princess & the Gator," which, as you can see, turned out rather awesome:


If it is noticeable (in the upper righthand corner), we were awarded the "Most Creative" prize.

I H8 Chick Flix

Chick flicks, like French fries, are the devil.

Okay, well, not all chick flicks are evil, but I get indigestion just thinking about some of them.

Why? For one thing, they promote, ahem, rather unrealistic expectations about love for those who watch them. Take, for example, Serendipity, in which one of the main characters writes her name and contact info. inside a copy of Gabriel García Márquez's novel One Hundred Years of Solitude. Then, if she and her male love interest are "supposed" to be together, fate willing, he will someday find this book with this information, they will meet once again, and then they'll live happily ever after. Or at least until the end of the closing credits.

In real life, it just doesn't happen that way. (Does it?) Besides, I read more than one Gabriel García Márquez book in the original Spanish while in college, and his stuff tain't nothin' to write home about.

For another thing, many chick flicks tend to feature "actresses" such as Jennifer Lopez, Drew Barrymore, and Renee Zellweger, to name a few.

Speaking of whom, the latest offender in this category is the 1999 flick The Bachelor, which I finally watched the other day. The Bachelor stars Chris O'Donnell and the aforementioned Miss Zellweger, who seems pleasant enough but whose face, for one reason or another, looks like it has just been attacked and stung by a hive full of bees.

In this movie, Renee's character is deeply offended when her longtime boyfriend, played by O'Donnell, totally botches his marriage proposal due to nervousness and to not really knowing how to put his feelings for her into words. She reacts with contempt because it's not "romantic" enough or the way a proposal is "supposed" to be; you know, the kind of proposal that might be done "right" in say, a chick flick.

From there, the film just goes straight downhill.

At any rate, that's just one point-of-view. If The Bachelor happens to be a favorite film of yours - or, heaven forbid, the TV show of the same name, to mention another offender - and you can cite examples for me of why it doesn't stink to high heaven, then I'm all ears. Prove me wrong, children; prove me wrong.

My Love Song, Not Fancy or Fine

Unless you have been living in a cave, you are no doubt already aware that another Valentine's (aka Singles' Awareness) Day is fast approaching.

Valentine's Day is one of those holidays that, in the past, I have often endured rather than looked forward to or celebrated. A large part of that is due to the fact that there has rarely been someone else with whom to celebrate the holiday. Even so, I try to be cautiously optimistic each new year and hope it will be the exception rather than the rule.


I know I'm not the only one who doesn't look forward to Valentine's Day. I can see why a lot of people look at it as a reminder that they're alone, they're missing somebody, and/or they are not with somebody. In the last few days, I have heard far more people make reference to the fact that the next week includes Presidents' Day (and, therefore, a three-day weekend) than I have heard talk about Valentine's Day and getting excited for that.

Then again, maybe I have been part of or have been eavesdropping on the wrong kinds of conversations.

All kidding aside, I have recently been reading a book titled Uh-Oh by Robert Fulghum. (You may remember that name; he also wrote All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.) Like his other, more-famous book, Uh-Oh contains a series of vignettes and short stories about everyday life - Chicken Soup for the Soul-type stuff - as observed through the eyes of Mr. Fulghum. In one of the chapters I came across recently, he relates a handful of love stories that he has observed or been part of over the course of his life. None of these stories is particularly earth shattering or worthy of a Lifetime movie, per se, but, rather they are all tiny tidbits and subtle moments, such as the lady who smiled at him from across a crowded diner.

I don't know that I've experienced what anyone might call a love story - at least not in the sense that a movie might portray. I'm in my 30s and am still single, and I haven't come close to being engaged. (Then again, you may get a different response if you ask one or two of the girls I've dated.) But, if you use Mr. Fulghum's definition of love stories, then I guess I've been lucky enough to witness a few.


For one, my parents have a picture of me, back when I was five or six years old, with my arm around a cute little girl about my age. I don't know who she was, what has become of her, where the picture was taken, or why my arm was around her, but I have to smile whenever I think about it. (If I can find the picture, I promise I will scan it and add it to this post.)

In elementary school, one of my first crushes was a girl named Anne, who was in my class. I loved to play jacks back then, and I remember finding excuses to play several games of jacks with her - sometimes letting her win.

In Peru, my companion and I taught the discussions to a man named Julio Gonzales - as we sat in the back seat of his taxi cab. His girlfriend, Melinda, referred him to us in the hope that he would join the Church. Flash forward a few years, and, out of the blue, Melinda calls me on the phone one night, obviously crying with joy, because she and Julio have just been sealed in the temple for time and all eternity.

There is also the girl I dated one summer who worked in the Lion House kitchen and would often bring me leftover/extra pieces of cheesecake. It was through her that I learned that the saying that "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" has some bona fide merit to it.

A few years ago - and I promise that this is the last story, for now - my bishop spoke in elders quorum and invited all of the single elders to pass out Valentines to the single girls of the ward. I took his advice and, on Valentine's Day, spent several hours visiting several girls in the ward, some of whom I hadn't even spoken to before then, passing out Valentines (I think they had Mickey Mouse on them or something). No, I didn't find anyone to date due to this experience. But I did make a lot of new friends.


Well, I've bared my soul a little bit today, and, honestly, it feels pretty good.