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"Today I accompanied my daughter on a kindergarten field trip to the El Capitan Theatre. Located in the heart of Hollywood, little feet unknowingly scuffled over Burt Reynold&amp;#039;s sidewalk star before entering the 1920&amp;#039;s movie house to watch Disney&amp;#039;s latest nature film, OCEANS.  As I sat in the back of the theatre, listening to the predictable &amp;quot;oooohs&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;awws&amp;quot; of five and six year old&amp;#039;s reaction to orca whales attacking baby seals (and laughter when the sea otters burped.. gotta love Disney for hooking their audience in the first two minutes) I was flooded with the contrasts of life at that moment: Innocent souls sat safely inside a darkened theatre, while steps away on Hollywood Boulevard a nature show of its own was taking place.  There were kiosk vendors pushing cheap wares to Mid Western Tourists, fifty year old Marilyn Monroe&amp;#039;s posing with Asian exchange students in front of Mann&amp;#039;s Chinese Theatre, homeless street bums waiting for a handout outside the metro, location scouts with cameras crossing crowded intersections, young couples taking photos outside the Kodak Theatre (home of the Oscars) and a thousand other scenarios.  So many people... so many spirits... so many agendas. It made me think about mine.  Who am I about? For the purposes of this column, how do I want to treat my marriage? Will I, like a fisherman&amp;#039;s net that traps unsuspecting marine life, carelessly hurt Rex with my thoughtless web of words and actions?  Will I be like the sea gulls - single focused on catching my prize at any cost?  Will I be like that pincher crab - safe inside my shell of &amp;quot;reasonable&amp;quot; expectations?  Or, like those baby sea turtles, will I break out of my shell in broad daylight - incurring huge risks of getting killed before ever making it to the sea? The answer is simple. I don&amp;#039;t have to be what Rex wants me to be. I don&amp;#039;t have to be who my mom wants me to be. I don&amp;#039;t have to be who my readers want me to be or who my kids want me to be. All I have to be is me.  For some of you, this might be an obvious statement. But for an A-type personality like myself (with a good dose of perfectionism and people pleasing thrown in for good measure) it&amp;#039;s a liberating realization. And it&amp;#039;s a win-win for everyone. After all, Rex didn&amp;#039;t marry a step ford wife. He married a firecracker. And while there&amp;#039;s a time and a place to be responsible (like those mama hump back whales teaching their kids to go up for air) there&amp;#039;s equal opportunity for raucous joy (like those sea otters gleefully chasing a sand crab.) Under the sea, you either live or you die. But the animals don&amp;#039;t do it pretending to be who they are not. A puffy fish is not an eel. A sword fish is not pelican. And I am not anyone other than who God made. Since Rex isn&amp;#039;t one to plant any unforeseen traps around me (either physical or emotional) I have a pretty strong chance at survival - and more than survival - thiriving. No one&amp;#039;s going to give me a star on Hollywood Boulevard for it, but it&amp;#039;s a happy ending I&amp;#039;ll gladly work toward. I hope you do, too. \u00B7Photo of some beautiful stone carvings over the box office. I&amp;#039;d like something similar in my bedroom. But for now, some Home Depot paint and some fake wood furniture will have to do.  "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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