One lazy Sunday afternoon, the internet and I were passing the time together quite happily until I made possibly the biggest mistake my life has seen thus far. There were several Facebook errands that I'd been meaning to get to. Firstly I had a humorous article about writing to share with my creative writing friend. This friend is a guy I am sort of interested in, but its still in the early stages and I'm not sure if he's interested at all, so keeping it casual with a few shared articles here and there. But alas this one would have to wait momentarily, as another friend Jess had been thinking about me. I had to reply to her before I forgot again, so a prompt, nice reply with something like 'hope to see you soon x' to sign it off was appropriate. And now, with that out of the way, I could get to my original mission. But I was thrown off course as lunch was being called, I wrote it quickly and damn that infernal enter button being so easy to press! Curse this modern era we live in where instant messaging is oh so instant. I sent my message but with Jess still in my mind, and my next message to Jacinta already being considered I signed it with a 'hope you've been well x'. I could hear the polite confusion and disgust in his short reply. What have I done?!

I've been getting super depressed about guys, and well I guess a lot of things recently (my job, where I am in life, where I'm not in the world, most of my friends not being my friends any more). It might be just a this time of the month thing, but the guy thing is particularly frustrating. I have an amazing skill of somehow accidentally flirting with all my plutonic male friends in whom I have no interest whatsoever, I think its because I can relax around them and so am more confident and I just have a generally flirty nature. Then they think I like them, which leads to either them asking me out and I lose a friend through having to awkwardly reject them, or they shut me out, because they're worried that they are leading me on and I lose more friends.

And then with the guys that I might actually want to flirt with, I over-think it, and don't want to show I'm interested but overcompensate by acting too matey and then they see me as a pal, like the female version of a sassy gay friend. Is that a thing?


And I had months of not being desperate, where I was living completely for myself and not because I wanted to impress any guy, I still kind of am living like that, but now I just think about it all the time. I don't want to be that girl who prioritises guys as the most important thing. I am that girl. And I don't know how to not be that girl.




Today I am just super sad, and I can't write on here without sounding like a pessimist. I used to have so many friends, more than 60 came to my 21st. Now I can count them on my fingers. I went away for 5 months, and during the time away I became a less nice person. I learnt that having nice people who you are nice to, and who are nice back is not the same as having actual friends. The whole time all those people were just being polite by hanging out with me, and now there are new people at church that come and greet me with all that happiness and kindness you give a stranger. I don't belong there any more and I'm having a personal crisis because it used to be an integral part of who I was. I don't know who I am any more. I used to be kind because I was Christian, I'm still Christian but its not like before, I am not a typical Christian, I just pray sometimes and break all the other rules. Does this mean I was never really a kind person, but just going with the crowd. Am I a mean person?




I hate feeling this way, so depressed, so listless, so sitting and staring at the wall for hours slowly listing all the people who used to invite me places who haven't invited me to any new years parties this year. I hope this mood lifts.

On a scale of nun to slut?

So after one kind of romantic, kind of spontaneous (the kind where you could almost call it a one night stand, almost!) evening with a guy, you feel kind of good about yourself, a little demoralised, but overall attractive and relieved of sexual tension. A few weeks later a random movie night with a friend turns into a random hook-up with a friend. A bit of regret with that one, but a few apologies and 'lets just be friends' messages later and you still feel pretty positive about the whole thing.
But it's when it gets to the third (no wait fourth, there was a sneaky kiss with a random somewhere in there) when it gets to the fourth encounter of a sexual kind, this one a drunken house party, with an old school friend, that you start to feel like maybe you're a bit of a slut.

Without getting into the particular's, allow me to explain myself, I don't actually have sex with tons of people. With no-one in fact since 4 years ago, but if there were a spectrum from nun to prostitute, I'd be just on the nun side of halfway, well beyond the "chaste" Christian girl who kisses boys at bible camp and keeps it a secret to her grave, but below your regular non religion specific girl who hooks up every once in a while and has sex with her boyfriend before they are official. I am no slut, in regular terms, in fact up until these four incidents, I hadn't kissed anyone this year. I went 10 months, with nothing, zero action, and with zero interest from anyone. When some interest came along, I jumped at the chance, and the second chance, and well I guess I got greedy.

Because of my religious background, and the number of extremely kind but judgemental friends I have, I do feel like the biggest slut every time I have a random hook-up. But I'm a bit flip-floppy with my faith right now, and even when my faith was sure, this was the biggest "sin" I struggled with.

Religious reasoning aside, I would like to start respecting myself more. I think, apart from the last one, where my inhibitions got away from me at around my 6th drink, I was in control and I chose for myself, not to impress or please anyone else, but because it was what I wanted.

That said, I am now attempting to be chaste. I have to pretend like I don't want it, or think about it, like, all the time, so I can hold it over guys until they've committed their everything to me, and then maybe I'll put out. Is that how it works? I don't get girls who say no so often to their partner. Seriously, do you know how awesome sex feels? Maybe I'll understand more once I'm in a long term relationship, but sex is pretty much all I think about. Ok I'll admit, a slight exaggeration, but I do love it, and think about it a lot. If I had a boyfriend I'm pretty sure I would want it even more than I do now, having the option right there. Perhaps this can be a new years resolution, the whole no random hook-ups. I just want a boyfriend already, although the sweet sweet irony is that if I do date someone they will most probably be Christian, (not that I'm against non-christians, its just I'll more likely date someone with whom I have things in common) and generally Christian guys won't fuck you. So even if I do get a boyfriend, it will just make me want sex more, the possibility dangling in front of me, like a carrot on a fishing line, a long, hard juicy, forbidden carrot, that I'm not allowed to taste. If I do try, I am the evil temptress leading my good Christian boyfriend away from the path of righteousness and I am not the nice girl they first thought I was. Hmm perhaps I should join a nunnery, no temptation there.


Oh yeah Christmas and stuff happened recently. yay family times. And I recently messaged a writer friend of mine and told him I'd swap him my stories for his, so that we'd both be motivated. I have not been motivated, but I am super interested in this guy, so I should be, and it would be a cute way for us to get talking, and what a story we could tell at our wedding (haha just joking, I really am not one of those girls who imagines herself getting married... now imaging myself fucking him, well that's another story) Note to self, never tell anyone I know about this blog.

Just finished Lolita, I now want to learn Russian so that I can read everything Vladmir Nobokov has ever written. Crazy, immoral subject matter, beautifully crafted and poetic.

The Young and the Restless

I'm not sure whether I should be working on the readability of my blog. At times its purely cathartic; getting out something that had been troubling me for awhile, even I get bored reading these things back. However if I focus too much on the readability it doesn't really capture the true essence of my boring life, my whiny inner monologue and my pathetic desperate nature. The protagonist doesn't have to be a likeable character, but they at least need to have a conflict to resolve. I care about the problems in my life for a day or two and then move on to new things. I don't want it to be a quest for love, or how to find a boyfriend type thing, because I have long since learnt the disillusion of love = happiness. And I don't want my main goal to be just one thing, like if I learn how to guitar then finally I'll be cool, the end. So there is no conflict in this blog, except for perhaps becoming a better writer, but I think we can all appreciate how far off I am from that one.

If I live a more plot filled life, perhaps this will make my blog more interesting. This thought was certainly not on my mind at the beginning of the weekend, but coming to its close (ok its Monday, but I'm a shift worker so it still counts) I've decided that my less than exciting life drama will have to be enough. But I don't want to over dramatise, so I'll just do a reader digest version of the last few days.

There were friend hang outs, and parties, and a girl I met at said friend hang out wanted to practice speaking French with me, which worked out fine because the guy I quite like was in the room, so I could charm him subconsciously from a distance. 'Guy I quite like' asked about which books I'm reading, and being the genius that I am, told him I'd lend them to him when I'm finished (creating a reason for us to see each other in the near future -nailed it!). There was drunken chess at different party, and my ex who I'm back friends with now made an appearance. I found out he had blocked my number as he was leaving, a facebook message and a joke (about the impossibilty of booty calls) later and I was unblocked. Have not called him, will not call him, will not call him.

Then there was sun, sand and a shark warning which cut our swim short. My hair went curly with the salt water and my young platonic friend looked very attractive in the sun. I want to slow it down at this point, drag it out a little longer so I can relive it. It was such a nice day, the kind I will look back on and miss when I get older and more settled down in my affairs. So lets rewind to the morning, at church. My young platonic friend went overseas recently and was sharing at church. I admired him from the pew and as they are in the bad habit of doing, my eyes rested briefly over his crotch, wondering if the slight bulge was simply how his pants sat. He had bought me a present, a small, beautiful pencil case, with gold elephants weaved into the black fabric. And as he handed  it to me after the service I realised he probably liked me. Later we beached along with my best friend and his best friend. It wasn't so much a planned hang out as a -he'd asked me casually what I was up to that day and I said beach, and he said he was beach as well. It made sense to all do the beach. We ate chips, his treat, and then we went to carols in the park. Apparently the public opinion of the evening was a general disappointment, and anger towards the vast array of genres sampled in order to mix things up this Christmas. But it didn't matter to us at all. The picnic rug was a squish with the four of us. Me and him sat next to each other and had many a bumped arm incident, til eventually I just rested myself into him and we silently enjoyed the sensation. When we did eventually reshuffle and part slightly from one another, I placed my hand in the communal territory between us, but he didn't take the bait. We went back to his, dropping my friend off on the way. Then there were three. I went in to his to use the facilities. We chatted for awhile and decided to watch a movie. Half way through the movie our number reduced to two. I rested my head on his shoulder as the credits rolled and we held hands. He told me he liked me. This sounds so perfect, but allow me to delve into my neurotic over thinking head space for a second.

He's a bit younger than I am (3 years - 19), and I'm still not sure how I feel. I think he's one of the greatest people I will ever meet. He's such a good guy, almost super hero good, and he's sweet and kind and generous with a beautiful faith. But so young and still figuring out life. I've been a bit of a flip-flopper with guys recently. I think that's how it works though, right? You meet people and you make friends, and if you find them attractive maybe you flirt, and then hopefully they want to see you, and then you hang out to get to know them, and then you either are interested or your not. I'm not going to wait around for this other 'guy I quite like' to borrow my books and take a potential interest in me, because it's like waiting for a train that isn't coming. Stupid and a waste of time. So I've been flirting and maybe I'm leading him on, but I don't think it is if I'm legitimately considering him.

We talked for a little while. I was pretty honest with him. I apologised for acting so impulsively (calm down I just mean cuddling him, I saw chance of cuddles, and I went for it without really thinking about how it might make him feel). He said it was fine and I said I should go and then we made out anyway. It was strange at first, my friend who normally is not close to my face was all of a sudden close to my face. But then it was passionate and our bodies were so close and I found out it wasn't just the pants. It was such a pleasant time. Once we got bored of making out we cuddled silently for a long time. I told him I really still wasn't sure and he was fine with being friends. And so I've day dreamed about it all day, and have been in a sort of hazy state of happiness, which I guess is pretty selfish, because the more I logically think about it, the more I feel that I will have to hurt his feelings pretty soon. But I know him, and he'll take it well and probably be more worried for my well-being than his own (yep, he's just that good - i get frustrated that I don't like him more than I do).

So that's the end of my exciting plot filled tale. The rest of the day I spent reading, living other people's plot filled lives, so not much to report there. (Reading Lolita - beautifully written, I feel bad for enjoying such an immoral story).

What is it about ex's?

I bumped into my ex a few weeks ago. A few posts back I tell the story more fully, but basically I was really excited because we were all friendly again.

The thing is, it was all friend-y but then it got a little bit more physical. You know the type, elongated hugs, feet tucked under them as you share a couch etc. I have no romantic feelings for this person any more, whatsoever. At least this is what I keep telling myself, and I'm fairly certain its true,

But physically, it was so nice to be held again, and by someone who knows me well. And now, a few weeks on from this encounter, I crave it. I don't want to get back together, but I do just want to be held by him again. I'm in the process of trying to understand why it is that I crave this so much. By definition I should hate him.

I think its because I take forever to trust someone with physical contact. I have so many anxieties about meeting new people, that its just so comfortable with an old friend. I hope that's all there is to it.

What I'd really love, is a new awesome boyfriend. It would take me ages to adjust to them, and to feel comfortable around them, but eventually when it happens, I think I will crave nothing from this ex. For now I have to remain single, and I have to actively stop myself thinking about it, startiiinngg nnow! No now! But it was so nice, so warm. I fit so perfectly under his arm. And he embraced me, held me close, made me feel desirable again. I am a sad act. I will always struggle with how I interact with men, either being involved with the worse ones for me, or getting nervous and being too matey with the best ones. And I have no insight in how to fix this. All I know is I want a boyfriend. And I hate it.

Can I even book?

I've decided to start writing a book. But, Lauren, how can you do this with no skills or them communications and grammar, with sometimes being sentences not make sense? I hear you ask.

Well I've solved the problem of voice by simply deciding to use only my own. I haven't really learnt how to construct a character properly, so I'll just write a first person narrative and imagine myself in different hypothetical situations. I actually came up with an idea yesterday, and I really should just go with it. I think my idea will give it enough structure to make it seem like there's a plot and I'm not bothered by language, because the whole idea is that its language practice.

umm... that's all I really had to say today. I really do need this writing practice, I read my last post back just now and it was so poorly constructed. But the more I write the better I'll get.

Let's chuck some diary entry in here as well, for the hell of it. I've decided to hang out with the hippies again. I made a new friend a few weeks back, first one in ages, and now I'ma be part of the spinners community. I don't have talents or skills, but I am pretty easily impressed, so I add something to the group, even if it is only clapping with delight at the others talents. I went to an event called 'Happy Thursday' tonight. It was kind of like walking into a circus. Or at least a park where circus performers hang out, actually that is exactly what it was. There were jugglers and poi spinners, an old friend of mine was there with stilts, and someone with a diablo and there was even a girl who brought a slack line. And they just hang out and play with all the toys. It's a pretty awesome way to spend your time and I'm kind of inspired to learn something. I like the hippy lifestyle but I wouldn't want to spend all my time being a hippy. I like working hard too much, plus earning and saving money is high up there in my priorities. I can part time hippy, part time student, part time writer, part time McDonald's worker and eventually when I've saved enough money, full time traveller!

I also have been addicted to Sims recently. I get stuck playing for hours til my energy bar is nearly empty, I've been waving at the sky for ages, with a picture of a bed as my only thought bubble, and still no-one presses the bed button.

The Past Catching Up, Like We Were Old Friends

And here we are, as promised a few posts back, my drama filled blog. This one's exciting, because you get a bit of back story to me, and also some juicy gossip to liven up the talk around the water cooler, it has been kind of dull ever since that outspoken lady from 5th had a car crash and broke her leg.


I'll set the scene. It was a warm evening on the streets of Adelaide, the sun was just setting and a grand fire performance was about to begin. I had rushed there from the car park over in Siberia and made it just in time for the performance. You see it was a close friend of mine that had organised the event and I wanted to be there for him. I haven't included myself in the fire crowd for three years, after a very emotional break up with one of the spinners. But he was travelling the country last I heard, no chance of seeing him that eve.

When I say emotional break up, I mean emotional. It's strange to talk about now, because at the time I was utterly convinced I would never know happiness again, and here I am, living and breathing and happy. I'll keep our history lesson brief, because after all this is supposed to be about moving on from the past, and the more I dwell the less I move forward.
I was young, with no self esteem and an eagerness to impress. He was charming, and aloof, kind of quite and seemingly impressed by one thing (my assumption, his negligence to rectify it), sex. We never officially dated, he wouldn't acknowledge our relationship in public, he wasn't really into public displays of anything romantic. I was obsessed. I loved everything about him, his kind heart, his laid back nature and his amazing sex. And then there was Her, my beautiful best friend. He introduced us... ah I see you've already guessed the ending of this predictable tale, but please bear with me, it gets kind of twisted... he introduced us, and we got along right away. She was so intense, had a lot of mental health problems and we were best friends who hung out all the time just like that. She was engaged so I never saw her as a threat. Except that that's a lie. I did. That's why I befriended her in the first place, because I knew He was fond of her and I thought if me and her were friends then he couldn't go there. But our friendship grew organically as well and much surpassed this initial reasoning. When her fiancée left her, I knew my relationship with Him was doomed. I held on for dear life and used sex as a means of meeting up, knowing he had a weakness. I was desperate, I had a weakness for him. He tried to end things officially, but we still "hung out" often. It got less and less between each time. This adds up to roughly 10 months of my official time with this man. I was still lingering on to hope that we'd meet up once again, it had been a few months this time, but that didn't stop me hoping.
It was a confusing situation, because the 3 of us were all friends as well. During this whole time, we, the 3 of us, would all hang out. I knew of their feelings, I recall one time her telling me she'd wait til I was OK with anything, if it ever happened. I waited to sleep with this man again ,whilst still being in a relatively functional friendship with both him and the girl who ruined everything. And then all of a sudden, on facebook, they were in a relationship. You see, he'd learnt from his experience with me, and was going to do it all better this time around. So fucking glad I could lend a hand.

(I know I said brief, but once I start its hard to stop)
That was in February 2011. The rest of that year I tried to forgive, and even attempted being their friend again. A poisonous thing to do, but I thought it was the right thing. We hung out like before and it was awful. I cried almost every single day. By around October I wanted to kill myself. I had a plan and I got super scared to die. If only they weren't together, because that was the one thing I couldn't get out of my head, the one thing that haunted my every moment. I didn't want to die, so I begged them to break up. They were less than kind to me. I drove to his house and planned for him to find me on his front lawn. I called him, he figured out where I was and held me for a long time. I decided to post pone it til after I had sorted out my stuff, and written letters etc and then 4 days later I met a new man. The man who showed me that happiness was possible again, the man who gave me hope. It still sucked, it still hurt, but I started to improve from then on; no more death plans.

We lasted 6 weeks, this new man and me. During that time I became best friends with the girl again and when we broke up, she took me over His house and I stayed there several days. She was so mean to Him, so abusive and psycho. How did she get to have a boyfriend and I didn't. How could He pick Her over me.

They broke up several weeks later, and my heart skipped a beat. It gets a little convoluted after that but basically I had never really gotten over him and he started leading me on, then I found out they were still sleeping together. I don't think she knows how much me and him hung out and how many times he came onto me, and its not cheating if the clothes stay on, right?. For the most part I said no, I wanted to wait til she was OK with it, like they had promised me, foolishly thinking that he wanted to eventually be with me. It ended with a big confrontation in the park, she had told me they were not seeing each other (I guess one of the conditions of mine and her's successful friendship), I sent her a valentines card, and she called up saying she couldn't keep lying to me. It was at the last fire night I ever went to; He was there. I confronted him, slapped Him full in the face and yelled for awhile.

Shortly after (this is 2012 now) I cut all ties and I lost my two best friends. I know after all that bullshit I just told you most people's reactions would be to hate them both forever, but the thing is, I really did love both of them, we had the best times together; we all understood each other, I didn't have to put on any faces. I could just be myself, and the saddest thing was not all the heartbreak or all the wasted time I spent crying, it was that I couldn't see them any more.

The whole thing was a shitty time, but its been so long since it all ended and I really have completely healed, completely forgiven and am completely happy. I have this amazing life now, where I know what my passions are, and I'm not driven by the desire to please men. or the even more powerful desire for approval. I approve of myself, I love my body, I love my plans, I love my sense of humour and my family, and I love my taste in movies and books. And I love how I never give up on friendships, even when every one tells me I'm an idiot, I love being friends with difficult people.

So we return to this fire performance, which was amazing by the way. I'm so proud of my friend who organised it. And of course who do we see but Him, sitting in the crowd. At first I got nervous. But then I remembered who I am, how awesome I've become and the nerves went away.

For a few years now, the girl has been in Perth doing Christian Mission work, she sent an apology letter to me at some point, finally acknowledging the part she played in my pain, and it healed a lot for me. The guy has been travelling around Australia, until a few weeks ago.

I said hi to him, complimented his new beard, and we got along so well, we chatted for ages. It felt like we were friends again. Most people would say I'm stupid to let someone like that back in my life. It took a second to be OK with it, but for me it means peace and healing and its good for us to see that the awful experience we shared (I made his life hell as much as I could at the time, don't you worry) is over for both of us now, and no permanent harm was done to anyone. I can't describe how happy it made me to know that all is well with me and him, we're not best friends, I have no plans to see him again, but I just feel so peaceful.

Apparently She is back in Adelaide as well. This thought was harder to digest. It was a little harder for me to forgive her and for a second I was worried that they would get back together. But then that thought was immediately extinguished with a brand new one. I don't care any more. I am liberated from dealing with the bullshit of that whole chapter of my life, and it took until now to not care.

Her apology letter, from a few years back left it in my hands, I said I wasn't ready to be friends and maybe that I would never be ready. I'm still not sure.

Beliefs Hmmm

Someone asked me the other day what I believe, I told them things that I've been sure of in the past and they began to argue from a very opposing viewpoint. I don't like these questions, partly because I'm not very good at handling conflict (even if its just conflict of opinion), partly because often I think the winner (or stronger argument) is not necessarily the right person but just the one who's been trained in arguing (aka philosophy students), and most of all because I am not formed in my own opinions yet. I love learning the ways other people view the world, and I find it so interesting how many different variations there are of what people think is out there/ up there/ ..in there?

I also don't like the general consensus of what people believe to be offensive. I find that the atheists I have encountered are quick to belittle and mock Christians for their inferior, out-dated beliefs, when they would never do that to a Muslim, or Buddhist because it would be highly offensive. For some reason these (specific) people see Christians as fair game, and assume that if we believe something that goes against what they believe, we are simply foolish, and if only they could explain it to us, then we'd see the error of our ways and thank them profusely for showing us the way to truth.

I didn't realise I was using the inclusive "we" there, until I read it back. I was raised a Christian, and I have reached a stage where I don't just want to believe because my friends and parents tell me its real. I don't want to base it on a feeling because my feelings have led me far astray before. And so that only leaves research. I constantly worry that I was born into the wrong religion. In Christianity its pretty bad to seek other gods apart from God. But that's not what I am doing. I seek because I want to understand, and I want to be so firm and sure in my faith. There have been times when I have been so close with God, where he loved me so much and that love poured out onto others. But I have trouble praying for things these days because my faith is little.

I plan to research other religions. This is a good thing to do, regardless of your own faith. And I plan to look into the main arguments against God, and also the history and verification of the bible. I want to explore some of those tough questions, like why do bad things happen. I like these tough questions, because they confuse my brain, but if you'll allow me to assume for a moment God is real and he is how he's described in the bible, his truth should stand up against the most ridiculous wonderings.

The other problem is, if the bible does speak truth, then the reality of my situation is that there is an evil force working against me believing, which probably sounds crazy to non-believers, but if there's a God, then there's a devil who doesn't want me to believe in God. Its just an annoying additional factor when I'm considering all of this.

So I really do hate when people ask me, because I haven't got around to all of the research yet, and I hate arguing something I'm not certain of (actually I'm just not fond of arguing at all).

Ok, I won't talk about religion again for a while. I'm not normally one for religion talk, because even if I were fervent in my beliefs, I think showing love is heaps more effective than trying to argue with people. I speak here to share my own story, and not with any ulterior motives. I promise.

Also if you see this and feel like you should comment with how could anyone believe such crazy things, firstly, that's someone's reality, sometime's someone's only source of love that you are talking about and secondly if you wish to argue fervently the other way, that's someone's reality you are talking about, have some decency! I hereby banish all argumentative types (regardless of religion) from this blog.

Realism vs Fairytales

It just occurred to me that I've read books made up entirely of the thoughts and happenings of everyday people living their everyday lives. Even though I don't expect to be read by anyone else, this thought gives me confidence to write more openly and not be afraid to mull over the less interesting. This confidence will last until I remember how much I did not enjoy those books.
I have a rather plot filled blog coming up, but its so interesting it deserves its very own post (get excited).

Last I left you I was about to go camping. I camped, I read, I conquered. It was nice to be away from the distraction of social media. Not only did I save several hours of each day, it gave my brain time to think about what my own opinions and feelings are, without worrying about how they compare to the world. This was also beneficial for my writing. When on the internet, I am so aware of the sheer mass of writing being produced everyday. In my notebook I can just concentrate on what I want to say. It's a lot less overwhelming and my writing feels special again, being on 1 page out of maybe 90 as opposed to 1 post out of a gajillion (factual statistics provided by yours truly).

So far I've read White Noise and High Fidelity of my favourite youtuber's favourite books. I know they are critically acclaimed and all that jazz, but I wasn't heaps keen. I don't read much realism, which probably helps to explain my general sense of disappointment with life. They were well written and clever, but there was less plot, or rather less romantic fairy tale plot, than I would have liked. They weren't what I was expecting, but the more I think about them, the more they grow on me. Does this mean I'm maturing as an adult? As a reader?

I don't want to mature. In High Fidelity, the main character matures and life has no romance to it what-so-ever. I don't want to live a boring life, with no drama, no heart-wrenching moments, with no romance. As a great philosopher (yes, Disney's very own Belle) once said, I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can tell. And I really do live for that conclusive moment where you just know that if your life were a movie, emotional music would play and the credits would roll. Then the next day, you get to wake up to the start of a brand new movie, with different conflicts. If your romantic comedy movie part of your life just ended with a kiss, your next movie will be the when will he pop the question one (this will either drag out as a weak comedy, ending happily or will end with a break up and only serve as scene 1 to a movie in which you become a whole new person who don't need no man, but end up with a more attractive one anyway). You can star in several different movies at the same time; working your way up the corporate ladder and having a hilarious Christmas with your family or perhaps if you ever get fired, that is the start of your movie until you get life sorted again. Sometimes life goes into a montage, and you just have to enjoy the less dramatic happy parts.

I get lost in movies and books because I know that life can be awful and that sometimes it actually is how its painted in those realistic novels. But I think it's about what we choose to focus on. I could focus on all the mundane things, the fact that a lot of relationships don't work out, how my house will never be completely clean before someone messes it up. But I'd much rather focus on the romantic things that do exist in my life. And reading books that are more fairy tale than reality, help me to seek out the beauty in my life, they make me believe that its there again, and it gives me hope enough to keep going, through all the badness to find the good.