Harry Potter's Penis

The other morning, I saw an interview with Daniel Radcliffe (again, for those who are clueless…this is the kid that plays Harry Potter) on some morning show. It’s weird. I watch HP every SINGLE night. Really. I’m not exaggerating about that whatsoever. So, here I am seeing over and over this little baby (I think of 11 as a baby, anyway) growing into basically…well, REALLY…a man. And here he was speaking as himself. Harry Potter is a man. So…of course, this led me to Google the dude. Shouldn’t have done that. Next thing I know there’s Harry Potter’s PENIS hanging out for all the world to see. Holy Shocker Of The Century Batman! Look, I don’t live under a rock. I know the kid decided to do a naked show on Broadway to get away from the Harry Potter “image”…but I sure didn’t want to be staring at his ding-a-ling when just the night before I’d seen him as an 11 year old kid. I seriously felt like some sick pedophile. But really…I couldn’t STOP LOOKING! It’s his PENIS! OUT THERE! For everyone to SEEEEEEE! It was like looking at the pictures of a train wreck. You don’t want to look…but you kind of have to. In order to protect my brain from completely spazzing out, my overly analyticalness (shut up, I know it’s not really a word) kicked in. I mean…here’s this guy who is BARELY an adult acting in an extremely deep and raw (yes, I know I shouldn’t say those words after talking about someone’s penis…just hang in there…get it? HANG in there?) Broadway role. Would he have done this role if he WEREN’T Harry Potter? This kid probably thought that the only way to get away from being type-cast as a nerdy wizard was to whip out his little wizard to shock the Harry Potter out of any casting director who happened to glance his way! So, I start looking through the MILLIONS of pictures of this guy. There are cameras following his EVERY move. There were all kinds of websites: What Daniel Radcliffe Likes to Eat! What Daniel Radcliffe Does on the Weekends! Daniel Radcliffe Caught Smoking Weed! Daniel Radcliffe Likes to Screw His Assistant Hairdresser! (Nope…not making that up!) Daniel Radcliffe Waving His “Magic Wand” All Over Broadway!! (Okay…so I made that one up.) Seriously…from the time he was ELEVEN! This poor kid has had NO childhood. Since the HP craze has been going strong for a decade…this kid hasn’t been able to take a CRAP without someone knowing about it. It makes me wonder about what the parents were thinking. Did they think that HP wouldn’t be as insane as it’s turned out to be? I can’t imagine ever wanting my child to never EVER have a life that was his own. And Daniel Radcliffe won’t ever have a life of his own. He’s done filming all the HP movies. But the very last one won’t be shown until next year. He’s doing all these “grown-up” roles to get away from HP. He supposedly plays a dad in one movie. There were several pictures of him celebrating his 21^st birthday in Russia or somewhere. He was clearly tanked, and the headlines were bashing him for it. Really?? Let the poor kid get toasted in peace already. And you know what? As much as it creeped me out…I say, let the guy wave his magic wand wherever he wants to. I mean, he kind of earned the right to put Mini-Potter on display if you ask me. The moral of this little story is: If a Hollywood agent comes around saying that your son would look great as a kid wizard…you may want to think about the fact that it could all lead to a decade of craziness…and his pecker being public. Just sayin’!

To Whom It May Concern

**DISCLAIMER: This post does not mention any names even though it is very clear who it is about. IF you comment on this post, please do not mention actual names or your comment will have to be deleted. Post DOES contain cuss words, and the post is not nice…at all. If you don’t like reading about not nice things…please skip it. Thanks! ~Management~***

To Whom It May Concern:

Rarely do I ever say that I hate anyone. But you…you come really close to the number one spot of People I Loathe. I doubt you’ll ever read this, but just in case you do…I have a few things I’d love to say to you that I would also love the world to read.

You are a piece of shit on the bottom of my shoe. It isn’t fair that my mother is dead, and you are living with your faux family in the house that SHE built from the ground up. My mother loved that house. She loved picking out every aspect of what would surround her in her living space. But instead of her being there…your skank of a new wife is living in MY MOTHER’S HOUSE! Oh, but she’s not the only one who lives there, is she? Nope. You also have two children who live there with you. One of which was “created” while my mother was still living in HER house and still married to your cheating, lying ass.

Your daughter was in the NICU just a few floors down from where my mother lay in a hospital bed after having both breasts cut off to save her life. You did put on a good show. Looking back, I can see that now. I mean, I definitely believed you when we all went down to the cafeteria, and we ran into that “lab nurse”. I believed you when you told me that you knew her and was trying to get her to get Mom’s labs back sooner. I believed you when you claimed that “stress” made you introduce me as your “step”daughter…which you’d never EVER done before. It wasn’t until years later that I found out about the lies.

All. Those. Fucking. LIES!

It must’ve been exhausting…keeping up with them all. I wonder how that “lab nurse” felt as she went to check on your real daughter in NICU where she really worked as a nurse. I wonder if she whispered to her, “I’m sorry that your daddy has two families.” I wonder if she went home that night to her own husband and told him about the man with one family upstairs in the cancer ward dealing with his wife’s double mastectomy, and the other family downstairs in the NICU dealing with a premature baby girl. The man with two lives…that was you.

You thought Mom was going to die before she found out. You actually HOPED she would die so that you’d never have to face up to the consequences of your horrible actions. But she didn’t die…and that left you with a big problem, didn’t it? Instead, you treated her like shit and made her feel like the cancer made her “unlovable” until she finally gave up and left you. Wow…what a show you put on THEN! Crying hysterically…snotting all over yourself as we pulled out of the driveway. I actually felt SORRY for you then. It disgusts me to know that as we were driving away from you…talking of how much we’d miss being a family…you were already planning on when you’d be able to marry the Skank. You were already planning on when you could move your “real” daughter into my mother’s house.

I’ll never ever forget the day that I found out. I didn’t get the pleasure of finding out from you, or anyone else. Nope…I had to find out from your own brother’s MySpace page. Funny how things turn out. YOU were the one who taught me all about computers. YOU were the one who made me capable of being able to “snoop” on the computer and put pieces of information together. Funny that it’s exactly what you taught me that led me to the truth about you. I’ll never forget seeing the picture of a little girl who looked remarkably like you. I’ll never forget seeing the caption under the photo with the both of you that said, “Daddy”. I’ll never forget the picture of you pushing her on a swing set in what looked like my mother’s backyard. I’ll never forget the picture of you and your daughter…sitting on a hospital bed with some strange woman and a baby boy who had your first name as his middle name. It was like being punched in the gut over and over again…each punch coming swifter and harder. Mom was out of town when I found out. She wasn’t due back for several days. I wasn’t about to tell her over the phone when she was in a different state. I had to lie. I had to keep up your ugly ass lie for days. I remember spending hours just staring at the pictures. I remember pouring over the pictures running the math through my head. There was just no way that I could make it work in your favor. But I did try. I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing. I didn’t want to believe that the man that I grew to trust and love was playing me for a fool. I didn’t want to believe that you had made my mother feel like everything was her fault. I didn’t want to believe that you had made ME feel like I had destroyed our relationship. But there it was…staring me in the face. I’ll never forget when Mom got home. She knew something was wrong when I insisted on driving over to her house so quickly. I’ll never forget having to almost pull over several times on the way because I thought I was going to vomit. I’ll never forget the look on her beautiful face when I told her that you got remarried. She thought that was the worst of it. But it wasn’t. Even when I told her the whole truth…she didn’t believe me. She told me that I must be mistaken. I only wish that I had been. I was thankful that it was so long after she left that we found out. I’m not sure that she could’ve handled it then. I’m so happy that she was able to “trick” you into taking her phone call. I’m so happy that she was able to tell you what a piece of shit you really are. I laughed when she told me how you had cried. I laughed.

So…was it worth it? Are you happy now? I honestly hope not. You deserve nothing less than to be absolutely miserable. However, I am not completely cold-hearted. There are innocent children involved. And I hope for THEIR sake that you never betray them. I hope that they never see what you really are. And if they do…I can only hope that it doesn’t ruin the rest of their relationships in life. You’re probably saying to yourself, “But I would never abandon them. I would never leave them.” Yeah, well. You told me the same thing. You betrayed and abandoned your wife and so-called daughter at our greatest time of need. You threw us away and left us to believe that there was something wrong with US. When all along, YOU were exactly what was wrong. Did you think you were doing us a favor? Did you think that you were being a big man by telling my mom that she deserved better than you? Well, you were damn right about that. She deserved a hell of a lot better than you. It’s funny to me how a mistake can make so many things make sense. The “failed” counseling sessions. The “excessive crying”. Cutting off all communications with “seemingly” no reason. Yeah. It all makes sense now.

I never thought of you as anything less than my “Dad”. I didn’t call you “Dad” just because I wanted to call SOMEONE “Dad”. Sometimes, I still try to figure out what I did wrong. I wonder what I did or didn’t do to cause you to feel like I wasn’t enough of a daughter for you. I wonder sometimes what made you feel like you had to have a “mortality” check by making a child that was truly “yours”. Now that I know what you really are…now that I know what you’re capable of…I can honestly say that I’m glad that you’re not my father. I’d be ashamed to admit that you were. I can only hope that your “real” daughter never has to experience that pain and guilt. I hope she never finds out what pain was caused in order to bring her into this world. I hope she never finds out what you’re truly capable of. Not that you deserve that kindness. But she does.  

I did learn a few things from this situation. And not all of them are bad. I learned that my mother was stronger than I ever thought possible. You made the biggest mistake of your life, letting her go. She was the most amazing person I’ve ever known. I’m glad that you weren’t with her in the end. You weren’t worth her love…and she deserved a hell of a lot more than YOUR definition of love. I’ve learned that I have more capacity to trust and love than I thought I did. Although you may have crushed my heart and destroyed my spirit…it was only temporary. I know that I can trust the man I love. I also know that if he ever does betray that trust…I will survive because I’ve survived a lot worse. Don’t think that I’m giving you credit for anything that I’ve learned. You don’t deserve any of that. I CHOOSE how I feel. You do not have any control over my life, how I live it or how I feel. I refuse to give you that power over me.

The one thing I can hold on to is that you will be made to regret what you’ve done. It may not be tomorrow, or next week, or even in the next decade. All I know is that one day…it will come back to bite you in your lying ass. I hope that you never forget what you’ve done. I hope that every time you look at your daughter’s face, you remember the pain you caused. I hope that you live a very long life so that you will have that many more days to think about it. To think about what you could have had…and what you threw away.

Mom’s gone now. I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re devastated. I want to punch you in your fucking face. You have no right to be devastated. YOU were the one who let HER go. YOU were the one who did the unthinkable. It is a testament to Mom’s amazing character and strength that one of her last wishes was for me to call you and tell you that she forgave you. I did what she asked. I called and told you that she forgave you. I spoke to you for less than a minute and hung up the phone. If I hadn’t hung up when I did…you would’ve gotten an earful that would’ve sounded a lot like this blog post. Personally, I don’t believe you deserve her forgiveness. You definitely don’t have mine. But I want the world to know how awful you are…and therefore how wonderful my MOTHER was for forgiving a piece of shit like you.

It’s not fair that such a wonderful person is gone from this earth. It’s not fair that she’s gone, and you’re still here…living your Brady Bunch life. Just remember…the Skank wrecked the home of a woman dying of cancer. I’d watch my back if I were you.

Sincerely,

The One Who Will NEVER Forget

Randomness Version 2.0

It’s that time again, my friends! Time…for some randomness.

  -  I have no idea how Twitter works. I mean, I’ve tried…maybe not hard enough…but I HAVE tried to figure it out. I just don’t get all the hype about it. Isn’t the Facebook status enough? I’m not being sarcastic…I really want to know. I’m not quite sure why there are so many different abbreviations and something with the # sign at the end of things. I guess I shouldn’t knock it too much because when I had JUST a MySpace, I couldn’t understand why people were flocking to Facebook. And now that I have a Facebook, I can’t imagine ever using MySpace again. But Twitter…for some reason I just can’t get into it. There needs to be a “Twitter For Dummies” or something.

  -  Some people seriously shock me. There are times when I just sit and stare and want to blurt out, “Are you SERIOUSLY an adult??” I mean, people act crazy sometimes. I’m sure I do, too…on occasion…but really?? Is it REALLY necessary to sit and complain ALL the time? The worst ones are the ones who complain about the stupidest crap I’ve ever heard of. It’s so much worse since Mom died. I just want to say, “Really? You’re crying tears in your fifth alcoholic beverage because your favorite soap opera character got kicked off the show? Well…my momma died. I win.” Sure, it’d be easy for me to drown my sorrows in booze or start popping pain pills again. But, I don’t. One reason…I know that once I get sober…again…I’ll have to face the same exact situation that I tried to block out with other things. Another reason…and this is a big one…I’M A FREAKIN’ GROWN UP!!! I really do try and put myself in other people’s shoes. But sometimes, it amazes me that certain people realize that there are OTHER people in the world other than themselves. Thank the Good Lord that I rarely have to deal with these kinds of people. I think I might just go crazy if I had to deal with it on a regular basis!

  -  I love for my home to be really clean, but comfy and cozy at the same time. I’ve lived on my own since I was sixteen, and I can proudly say that every place I’ve ever had, I’ve always been able to have people over who would brag about how great they felt in my house. Technically, I’m still the kind of person who loves to keep the house clean and comfy. However, I have an abundance of animals in my house…especially since “inheriting” my mom’s 3 cats as well. It’s incredibly difficult to have a clean and comfy home when said home smells like a giant litter box. Add to that the stress of having your mom/best friend die…you really don’t feel like cleaning. So…my spirit isn’t really “right” at the moment. My house resembles the wreckage after a hurricane…or one of those houses on Animal Hoarding. Ok…maybe not THAT bad…but it’s wayyyy past the point of where I’m comfortable having people over. I’m hoping I can get this place back to where I want it to be before Thanksgiving. Then, I can give thanks for a house that truly feels like a home.

  -  I have purchased a Sleep Number bed. It will be here in a couple of days. I’m somewhat conflicted about this purchase. First, I’m thrilled that G and I will FINALLY be able to sleep in the same bed…in the same ROOM…because we’ll both be able to pick what firmness we want for our sides. Also, I really need to quit smoking. Since I’ve been sleeping in the living room, I’ve stayed up half the night just puffing away. With the new bed, I won’t be ABLE to stay up smoking because I’ll be right next to my non-smoking hubby-to-be. I’m hoping that the change in routine will help me quit. At the same time, I am a creature of habit. I happen to love living in my “comfort zone” be it a good or not-so-good one. I love sitting up, watching the same Harry Potter movies over and over, typing (mostly) nonsensical blog posts, smoking cigarettes, drinking Mello Yello, and eating roasted in-shell peanuts. Yep. That’s my routine…and I love it. So, it’ll be a bit difficult to let go of that, but I know it’ll be well worth it. Not to mention…sleeping in the same bed with the man who is trying to knock me up can only HELP the baby-making process, right? Right!

 -  I used to REALLY want a motorcycle. A Harley-Davidson Sportster 883 Hugger to be exact. I used to imagine flying down the road wearing a men’s white undershirt, tight leather pants (yeah…this was back when leather pants were the hot thing…give me a break), and black motorcycle boots. My super long, blonde hair would be all tucked up under my black full-faced helmet. I’d pull up to the Harley outlet where all the stereotypical Hog riders would be gathered, swing my long leg over the bike, rip my helmet off, shake my luscious hair out, put on my aviator sunglasses, and stride past them while they all checked out my rockin’ bod and firm booty. There were several problems with this fantasy. One: I was fat. Two: I had mousy brown hair that was cut to my chin. Three: leather pants + fat legs and butt = lots of chafing. And four: I didn’t have the money or the know-how to purchase a Sportster in the first place. But MAN was it a great fantasy to have!

  -  I’ve spent the past hour or so reading all the posts from when Mom was in the hospital…until after her “Celebration”. This is the first time I’ve sat and read everything in order. Gosh…it seemed like it happened just SO fast. It seems like one minute, she was rejoicing with me over the doctor giving me the “green light” to start trying to have a baby…then the next minute, the doctor was telling me she only had days to live. I remember telling that doctor, “I’m not five years old. I’ve fought by her side for the past eight years. Please don’t bullshit me or walk on eggshells. Just tell me.” The doc looked me right in my eyes and said, “OK. She only has a week or two…but that’s being optimistic. More than likely, she’ll be gone in a few days.” I remember feeling like someone had sucker punched me in the gut. I keep going back and forth about it…but right this very second…as I’m writing this…I’m glad the doctor was “real” with me about it.

  -  The absence of Mom being gone is just getting sharper as time goes by. Tonight, as I was saying goodnight to my hubs-to-be, I said, “I really miss my momma.” And he leaned in to hug me and whispered, “I really miss her, too.” It occurred to me then, that I sometimes forget that everyone else lost her, too. I should be more sensitive to that fact. I haven’t been very supportive to anyone else who has lost her, and I’m sorry for that. I would say that I’ll be better about it, but right now, I’m struggling just to keep breathing. I hope, though, that the people who loved my mother know that I do realize that they lost her, too. I always tried to tell her how many people she had touched. I tried to show her by making three huge letter books for her. She never did quite understand what she “did” to make everyone love her so much. There were no words in my vocabulary to describe to her the pure “essence” of her spirit that she gave to everyone she came into contact with. I hope and pray that she sees it now. Thank you…all of you…who loved her. 

Take a little trip…take a little trip…take a guilt trip with me

Guilt is about to totally consume me. Mom’s been gone for seven weeks. I have laughed more than I’ve cried. I’ve been in more good moods than bad ones. I’ve gone whole hours without thinking about her. I’ve cried only a handful of times.

If I mention to someone that I haven’t been devastated, I usually get a similar response. Mom had cancer for 8 years…so maybe, deep down, I was “preparing” myself.

Nope.

Believe me when I tell you that I was NOT prepared for this. Sure, Mom and I talked about death quite a bit. I’m sure many of you who were close to her will remember her mentioning MORE than once that she was worried how I’d handle her dying. She thought I was in denial about it…that I couldn’t accept the fact that she would eventually die from this stupid disease. And she was absolutely right. I could talk to her about insanely morbid things…but something in me shut off when we did speak of it. I mean, how could I even fathom her being GONE?? Here I was, staring at her completely beautiful, healthy face talking about how I’d never see it again. It was illogical to my brain. DOES NOT COMPUTE!!

People often say, “Well…it wasn’t sudden. You were probably subconsciously ‘ready’ for it.”

Nope…again.

In the grand scheme of things, Mom’s death WAS very sudden. On June 8^th, G proposed to me. Mom was beside herself. She had been looking forward to me getting married since about…ohhhh…2 years after G and I met. And we met TEN YEARS AGO! Exactly one week after we got engaged, she called to tell me that she had a brain tumor. Well, crap. Of course, this scared me much more than any other “findings” in the past. This wasn’t just a rib…this was her BRAIN for goodness sake! I went with her to one of only three Cyberknife treatments. The nurse even let me come back and watch how it worked. I burst into tears the second I saw Mom lying on that table with this weird mask over her face. Don’t get me wrong. The Cyberknife radiation isn’t a scary thing. It’s basically like this huge hair drier that zooms all around your head sending invisible radiation beams through your brain. That’s not what made me cry. It was the mask. That damn mask hid Mom’s face from me. Before treatment began, they put this mesh-like material over Mom’s face to make somewhat of a “mold”. That way, they could put it over her face, BOLT it to the table, and they knew she was in the same exact spot every single time. I couldn’t stand looking at this mesh-like version of my mother. I couldn’t stand thinking that she could be claustrophobic with something so close to her face that her eyelashes brushed against it. But, after three days, the treatments were over. Mom even felt better for a while. When she started having balance issues and headaches we all thought that it was probably some delayed reaction from the radiation. The oncologist even went ahead and did another brain scan a few weeks earlier than intended and the tumor was shrinking faster than they could’ve hoped for! I knew another miracle happened. I just knew that Mom had dodged yet another bullet. But Mom’s balance, headaches and vision just started getting worse. So, she went to the University Hospital to see a specialist. They immediately admitted her into the hospital to run some “tests”.

Two weeks later, my mother was dead.

So, yes…to me…it was VERY sudden. When she was first admitted to the hospital, she was very alert…being her normal charming, sweet self. The nurses that worked with her those first few nights couldn’t believe how quickly she had deteriorated a week later when they came back on rotation. No, I don’t think any of us expected this. G even went out of town after she had surgery because the doctor said she’d done great. Thank God he got back in time to say goodbye. I’m not sure he would’ve forgiven himself if he hadn’t made it back in time.

I’m rambling…so I’ll try and get to the point of this post. I feel immense and sharp guilt. Mom and I were as close as a mother and daughter can be. I know I’ve said it so many times…but we were absolute best friends. I used to say that I couldn’t even imagine living without her. I couldn’t fathom getting married and having children without her by my side. I guess a part of me still doesn’t know how to go on. I just do. There’s nothing else I CAN do except go on. But…why am I not curled in the fetal position mourning my mother? Why am I getting up every day, getting things done? It’s been almost TWO MONTHS, and I’ve had ONE DAY that I had a few meltdowns. The day that I cried so hard…I thought…this is it…the crazy sadness is about to come crashing down. But I went to sleep, woke up, and went back to getting things done.

I feel guilty that I’m not crying for her all the time. I feel so damn guilty for not mourning her with the crazed pain and sadness that I expected to have. I feel guilty every time I laugh, every time I have a great day, every time I “forget” for a few hours because I’m distracted by what I’m doing. I keep thinking that the day will come when I’ll collapse on the floor while pain envelopes me. That day never comes! Some days, I still feel like it’s all not “real”. But I KNOW it’s real. Some days, I TRY to get upset. I think about not having heard her voice for so long. I think about never seeing her beautiful face ever again. I replay the two weeks that I lived in the hospital room with her over and over in my mind. I think about all these things, and I still don’t cry. I view these thoughts and memories as if I were watching someone else’s life in a movie. I have somehow detached my emotions from it. I can just look at what’s going on in a logical, matter-of-fact kind of way instead of viewing it through the veil of my emotions. I don’t get it! I’m mad at myself for not screaming for my mommy every single night. I feel like I’m not honoring the bond we had. I keep thinking, “If we were as close as I know we were, and as close as other people know we were, then why am I not more upset?” Not only that, but I was SO emotionally dependent on my mother. It didn’t matter what subject we were talking about…I was always searching for her approval. So, how am I making all kinds of crazy decisions without having a meltdown after each one…knowing that Mom isn’t here to either validate me or scold me.

I can’t even begin to tell you how many times people have told me, “There are NO rules to grief!” Maybe not…but I had a different idea of what MY grief would look like after I lost the most important person in my life. And what’s going on with me now is most certainly NOT what my idea of grief is. I feel so guilty every minute of the day. I feel like I’m unintentionally lessening the importance of the bond we shared. I feel like I MUST have that period of time where I’m so sad that I can’t function. If I don’t have that time…if it never comes…what does that say about how I view my relationship with Mom?

Many of my well-meaning, loving friends have said they admire my strength. They tell me that I am unbelievably “strong” and “inspirational”.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I feel like a fraud. I don’t feel like I’m very strong. If anything I feel like I’m incredibly weak. I honestly don’t believe that “strength” has had anything to do with my lack of emotion. And it really is just that…an absence of mourning and emotion. Maybe “absence” isn’t the right word. The pain and sadness are definitely THERE. I feel it from time to time…especially at night. It just rarely manifests itself into anything more than a fleeting thought or feeling.

The thing is…I’m extremely grateful for the lack of pain and sadness. I don’t WANT to feel those negative emotions. And that by itself makes me feel a huge guilt as well. How dare I feel happy and excited about my future, when my mother won’t ever be here to enjoy it with me? How could I possibly NOT feel guilty about having even one moment of happiness, when I’ll never have the privilege of sharing that happiness with the person I shared everything with?

I don’t know the answer to letting go of the guilt. Yes, I’m scared of feeling the complete weight of what mourning my mother may be like. At the same time, the guilt of NOT feeling that complete and raw emotion is starting to chip away at my armor a little bit. And my armor has quite a few dents in it already. As pretty much everyone has told me at one point or another, “Only time will tell!”

As for the mask…the one that made me cry when I saw Mom wearing it? Yeah, they gave it to her after her treatments were over. She thought it was funny. I did not. But now Mom’s gone…and that mask belongs to me. Although I hate it for what it made me feel…I can’t bring myself to throw it away. It is, after all, the exact mold of my mother’s face. Funny, how something that you absolutely hate…ends up being one of the only things you have left to hold on to something you love.

The Unbreakable Vow

So, I’m doing my usual nighttime routine…watching HP…and one tiny little fantasy blip of a conversation started a roaring avalanche of random thinking in my brain.

The Unbreakable Vow

For those of you who have been in a coma or a submarine for the past decade and haven’t read nor seen any of the Harry Potter series…let me give you a little background on the unbreakable vow.

The unbreakable vow takes place between two parties who are literally bound together by magic. The best way to describe it is to use the actual scene in HP. (And no, I won’t “give anything away” to those of you who have lived under a rock.) Okay, so a student is in danger and his mother is worried sick about him. She and her sister, the student’s aunt, travel to the student’s professor’s house. The professor tells the mother that he is aware of the situation and will do what he can to protect the student. The aunt challenges him to make the unbreakable vow to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the student will be protected. He reluctantly agrees. So, the mother and professor join hands, and the aunt binds them together with magic. The aunt asks the professor, “Will you, Professor, do whatever it takes to keep Student safe?” The professor replies, “I will.” The questions and answers continue until the aunt and mother are satisfied that the student will be thoroughly protected…no matter what. They are so sure of this fact, you see, because the consequence of BREAKING the unbreakable vow…..is death! Of course, the professor doesn’t have a death wish, and he IS dealing with a bone-headed teenager. So, he has to make sure that the bone-headed and strong-willed teenager doesn’t do anything STUPID to put HIMSELF in danger. Are you understanding why the unbreakable vow is such a big deal? I hope so…because I have no idea how to explain it any better than that.  

Okay, so I realize that the unbreakable vow is just part of a fantasy world. But it really got the wheels cranking in this dusty head of mine. What if the unbreakable vow WASN’T fiction? What if there were severe consequences if you broke a promise that you made to someone? Wouldn’t you choose your words and actions more carefully?

Take marriage for instance. Here are some vows that may be read during a wedding ceremony:

(Name), from the moment I first saw you, I knew you were the one with whom I wanted to share my life. Your beauty, heart, and mind inspire me to be the best person I can be. I promise to love you for eternity, respecting you, honoring you, being faithful to you, and sharing my life with you. This is my solemn vow.

Sounds sweet, doesn’t it? Sure it does! However…think about if this was an unbreakable vow. You will DIE if you do not abide by what you have said to this person that you plan to spend the rest of your life with. In this case…I think the marriage vows would read a LOT differently. I imagine they’d go something like this.

I promise to love you…as long as you act loveable and not act like an untrained monkey. I promise to respect you…as long as you don’t act like a fool idiot who doesn’t deserve respect at that moment. I promise to honor you…as long as you don’t make some stupid ass decision without consulting with me first. I promise to be faithful to you…as long as you keep putting out and McDreamy never walks into my house naked, ready to go. I promise to share my life with you…as long as you don’t keel over before me…because then all bets are off. This is my solemn vow.

In all seriousness, it is a bit sad that some people don’t take their vows as seriously as they should. Although, I’m not sure I’d WANT someone loving me or honoring me just because they don’t want to die over it. However, I think we should all use this as a wake-up call. Be careful who you make promises to. Be careful what those promises are. It’s so easy to break vows these days…so easy to “go back” on a promise. I wish we could all take them as seriously as an unbreakable vow, instead of something we say because we only mean them while we’re saying them.

Something to think about, anyway.