On Feb. 112010 the course of my future altered forevermore. Every game of “MASH” I had ever played— every J-14 poster of Leonardo DiCaprio that had ever hung on my wall as the superlative pictogram of prospective romance— had become negated by one werewolf’s successful attainment of that U.S. benchmark separating boys from men. With the lighting of his 18 birthday candles I (legally) became entitled to pursue my inevitable designation as Mrs. Taylor Lautner.
While my theatrical prose is by no means intended to promote pedophilia I do think there’s something to be said for the shameless tenacity by which I pursue this realistically inaccessible object of my desires.
With Lent upon us and proclamations of Diet Coke chocolate and Facebook sacrifices being hurled around this week I half expected someone to suggest I “give up” Taylor Lautner for the fasting season. But unlike many people I choose to happily embrace my vices; they’re what make me— well me.
Before I carry on much longer allow me to qualify my argument that self-denials made for Lent should be contained only to those who actually intend on improving their spiritual health; that is those who adhere to the original objective of this Lenten discipline as a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice for us on the cross. A topic such as this one begs controversy so let me be clear— I bear no malicious intent toward any religion or the practice of it. I simply object to its application as a mainstream trend. (It’s like “greenwashing” all over again.)
It’s not that I don’t have my fair share of faults that certainly warrant temperance. In fact the extremist-type nature of my personality lends itself especially vulnerable to addictions and obsessions. Ask anyone who’s even remotely aware of my existence and I guarantee a flurry of suggestions for things I would do well to sacrifice would erupt. Starbucks (I shudder at the thought) ramen noodles and of course my unreasonable infatuation with barely legal werewolves— would undoubtedly top the list.
My counterargument though stems from two interdependent schools of thought. First I obviously enjoy these things and am thus not naturally inclined to eschew them for any duration of time. Second I feel no obligation or sense of religious conviction that would motivate me to do so.
Yes I fully acknowledge my seeming desecration of Benjamin Franklin’s “Thirteen Virtues and resultantly everything that’s good in this country. But I advocate for the embracement of modernity. Contemporary society is challenging virtually every public tradition— social politics, fiscal expectations and, yes, religious freedom— so why not employ this confrontation to personal life, as well?
To those of you who made some type of sacrifice for Lent, know that you are stronger than I am. But, consider your motives. Things you enjoy may not necessarily be vices, nor may they be impeding any aspect of your spiritual life. Lenten participation is not to be exploited by superficial involvement and guilt, but is to be derived from commitment to God, and from the desire to strengthen that bond.
Mark Twain said it best: Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Unless rightfully inspired don’t let the “bowlines” of religious obligation keep you from relishing in whatever happens to be your Taylor Lautner— life’s just too short.
