Nomnomnomnom...

Special treat from Linda!

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About Love and Fear

Gilbert Blythe -- both the physical image of the character I conjured up the first time I read L.M. Montgomery's classic book and the character that the recently deceased Jonathan Crombie brought to life -- has always been my ideal. I've always looked for my very own Gilbert. In both the book and the adaptations, he's a steadfast friend, lover, husband, father; he's loyal to a fault; he's patient; he's ambitious and intelligent; he's kind and determined; he's compassionate and devoted; he's witty and wry. Basically, he has all the qualities I hope to find in a man . Physically, Gilbert Blythe shaped who I am attracted to. I often prefer brown haired men. I get lost in hazel eyes. I admire tall men for their poise (despite the fact I insist that I prefer short men). On Saturday night, just as I was finishing the dinner they served at Chantal and Ryan's wedding reception, I received a series of texts from Clea. She was texting to tell me th...
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Coming Clean.

Fine. I'll admit it: I didn't submit the essay on Sunday. However, I did start it. I also decided the order in which I'd present my information. I even set time aside to work on it on Sunday. But , I didn't submit it. And it's not because I didn't want to pay the submission fee--at least not entirely. The reason I didn't submit my essay is because I didn't like what I wrote. I didn't like the style or the flow or the subject matter or the structure or the syntax or the blah blah blah. I didn't like it and I felt embarrassed that I thought I would be able to win the essay writing competition when the essay I'd written was nowhere near good enough. And the thought of sharing what I'd written made me nervous and nauseous and I'm starting to realize that part of the reason why I don't submit anything that I write is because sharing my writing makes me anxious. Not to mention that, as of yesterday, I realized that posting anyt...
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Not Really A Nightmare

Usually, I dream of people I've seen once in my life. It's random stories not really belonging to me, and only sometimes, do I make a cameo appearance in my own dreams. It's always been this way. Once, I even watched Disney's The Jungle Book in its entirety as I slept. My dreams are just... random. There was a time in my youth when I was boy crazy; every boy, man, dude that crossed my path was carefully regarded and studied. I just really liked looking at them. As creepy as that sounds. So it follows that I would crush on several men in my lifetime. Feel the rush of seeing them, replaying our encounters like a never-ending loop. But I have fallen in love twice. A product, I'm sure, of my propensity for "boy craziness", combined with my annoying ability to form sentimental attachments to anyone who's open and earnest. And of those countless crushes and two men whom I've loved, I've only dreamed of one; but the sad thing is, my dreams unsettle me...
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