23 Classes To Go and the Cult of Romance

     

           As of today, the blog has collected its 1,001st hit. From this we can infer that either my mom and I are getting really good at typing in the address or that a few other folks in the universe have found it too--which is exciting.
           Also occurring today is the four weeks till graduation mark. This afternoon, I counted 23 more classes to attend before the semester ends.
          In other news, a terrible attack struck the Boston Marathon this morning, and the Lyrid meteor shower begins tomorrow.
          On an entirely different note....
          In sociology class a couple of weeks ago, my professor mentioned a study by Elaine Tyler May called Great Expectations: Marriage and Divorce in Post-Victorian America. May attributes the 2,000 percent rise in divorce rates from the late 19th to early 20th centuries to the cult of romance. Prior to the advent of media, grounds for divorce cited abuse or failure to fulfill the duty of a partner. Only after the Victorians did the possibility of divorce over "irreconcilable differences" first surfaced. Prior to these expectations of romance and personal fulfillment in marriage, couples didn't fall out of love.
          My professor pointed out that people still believe in marriage because most remarry faulting the previous partner, not the institution, for their discontent. This reminded me of a TED talk by Jenna McCarthy (not to be confused with actress Jenny McCarthy). She pointed out that when couples see a romantic movie--where the banter is carefully scripted and things are blissfully concluded before the credits roll--, they often leave the theater feeling discontented with their comparatively boring existence which includes diapers, incessant channel flipping and crock-pot dinners that didn't appear on screen. In contrast, when a couple watches a blood and guts action flick, they return home feeling more than satisfied with their quiet, cozy little life in which no one is running from dinosaurs or dodging jagged spears around every corner.
         As much as we think we want it to be, life is not a fairy tale where Mr. Darcy will eventually learn how to say the perfect words and Elizabeth is carried to a wealthy estate where dust doesn't land and servants would clean if it did.
         Fiction is wonderful, but dreams can also be dangerous. Not to be a glass half empty kind of gal, but dealing in reality can also help stifle discontent.
         As the end of my undergrad looms in just a month, I can sense the dissatisfaction that will invariably hit like a tidal wave two days after commencement. When it is finally over, I'll miss school and romanticize the adventures of the past three years.
         In preparation for the aggrandizement, I've notified my friends still laboring under the weight of college courses and internships to call me and complain about the lack of sleep, lack of showers and other stresses. And then I'll be reminded of how grateful I am to have my freedom and my boring but wonderful little life.