Jots and Tittles

There's a ball next Saturday night.  And I've talked Troy into taking me.

Now, I've known about this ball for more than a year.  It's an annual event, put on by Colorado State and Friends of Traditional Dance, and last year a very dear friend of mine asked me to go with her, knowing that I would simply adore the whole thing, but I couldn't because I was going to the Loreena McKennitt concert with my dad. (Which was also fantastic and I don't regret for a second missing the ball for that.)  This year, however, I had no such conflict, and I have a boyfriend who could be talked in to indulging my silly fantasy for a night.  I've been going back and forth, trying to decide what dress to wear, how to do my hair, what shoes I'll want for dancing the night away, the whole nine yards.  I've almost decided on the black empire-waisted dress from my senior prom, assuming it still fits properly.  S'pose I should figure that out before too long.  But if I wear that one, I can wear my favorite black heels (oh, they're so lovely!), and bring my little black purse.  Yael agreed to do my hair like Jane's in Pride and Prejudice, and I bought some pretty fingernail appliqués from King Soopers (they're cheap, but it's only for one night anyway).  Sure, it's the Saturday before Finals week, but you know something, I just don't care.  This is my last semester of college, I've NEVER been to a dance with a date, and this one includes dance cards and live music by the Mostly Strauss Orchestra, also known as the Denver Pops.  I can't begin to express how delighted I am at the sheer idea.  I know that Troy can barely waltz, and honestly I'm not much better, but at this point that doesn't even matter.  I'm just excited to be going.

Because of all this, lately Troy has affectionately and teasingly diagnosed me with a Cinderella complex.  I'm not entirely sure he knows what that means, actually, because a desire to get dressed up in pretty dresses and go dancing has very little to do with a hidden fear of independence.  It has a lot more to do with being a very girly girl, and loving every second of it.

I think it's been well-established by this point that I am every feminist's worst nightmare.  And that I delight in being so.  I simply love the idea of being a good wife and mother someday, and if I was required to wear a dress every day I would be first in line to burn every pair of pants I own.  No higher compliment can come my way than to hear that I am considered a classy lady.  Climbing the corporate ladder has never held any attraction for me, and honestly I don't much want a job if I can get away with it.  (I probably can't, which makes me very sad, but if I could, I would.  And I know some of you are thinking, "Jaina, you'll go nuts if you don't have any intellectual stimulation!"  Which is true - thankfully, I have this fantastic internet contraption which provides more intellectual stimulation than I could ever need.  And it's not as though I don't intend to have friends or anything.  Everyone needs a break now and then.  I just don't want a job like everyone seems to think I should.)  I do want someone to take care of me, but it's less because I have some fear of independence and more because I want to have the time I would have spent taking care of myself to be spent taking care of others.  I'm not saying I don't fear independence at all, because I do.  I'm a college student for only a few more weeks, and after that I have to grow up some more, which frightens me a lot.  But it's not the sort of paralyzing fear which forces me to seek out people who will take care of me because I can't function if I have to take care of myself.  I'll do it, and I'll probably do very well at it, because I'm a smart young lady and - more importantly - I have an awesome God looking out for me and making sure that I am provided-for. 

So, do I have a Cinderella complex?  I don't know - whatever fear of independence I have probably isn't enough to warrant calling it a complex.  And, honestly, from what I can tell, this particular "complex" has received criticism in recent years for oversimplifying matters too much.  Besides, it seems to me that a fear of independence and a desire to be taken care of can be seen in a very good light - if I am afraid to be independent of God and want him to take care of me (as I know he will), is that such a bad thing? But I do know that, whatever I have, I'm very okay with it.  I'm a very strange person, and I'm glad of it.  I actually quite like the way I am - not that there aren't plenty of things I would change about me, but it's not like I wish I could just scrap the whole damn mess and start over.  Who I am, fundamentally, at the core, I pretty much like.  There's a lot of sin there and there's a lot of imperfections which drive me, God, and probably everyone else absolutely bonkers, but that stuff is the flesh, it's not me.  I do it, and I struggle with it, but it's not me.  Gah - Paul articulated this so much better than I could.  It's in Romans 7.  For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. (Rom 7:15-17)  Along those lines. 

Anyway, the point is, God made me as I am, and I think he did a pretty good job - "Cinderella complex" notwithstanding.