I feel like jelly without a jar right now. I am stuck to all these ideas, like how when you spill jelly it'll stick to every crevasse of the barstools sitting in your kitchen. Though I am firmly rooted to those ideas, like the jelly to the barstool, I am still without my jar. I have no defining shape.


This is upsetting to me.

This is true, particularly in the area of romance. I have attempted several blogs of late on the subject. I haven't been able to acquire the proper words with which to express myself. Despite that fact, this has been a subject heavy on my mind since I began attending Fresh Start. I believe that was like November of last year. So here we go again, attempting to exorcize my thoughts without having them emerge mangled and disproportionate.



I am a romantic. Most of my favorite movies are romances: Casablanca, Last of the Mohicans, The Fountain, The Village, The Painted Veil. The list goes on and on.

However, I have positively no experience in the area. In fact as a kid, I always swore I would never marry. My mind was focused on more important things, like life-threatening adventures, exotic lands and epic battles between good and evil, (y'know, the standard make-believe stuff.)

At church we had those purity seminars and I adhered myself completely to those promises. Dating anyone before I was at least in my junior year of high school was illogical. There was no purpose to do so. It was not as though I would marry a person I started to date in junior high, or high school. The chances of that were so very slim.

That doesn't mean it wasn't freakishly difficult. I hated myself at times for deciding to not date. There seemed to be a reoccurring theme in my life, where I liked a boy and, since I would not date, my best friend snatched him up. That happened a couple times, several different friends. My friendships have always recovered neatly, however. I had no reason to be angry. It was my decision in the first place.

I was always torn between my desire for a remarkable romance similar to the ones in all my movies, (there's a certain element to adventure in a romance, y'know,) the affection I saw in the culture around me, and what I believed was right way to operate.

It has been a while now since my graduation. I’ve considered myself free to date ever since I got my heart all patched up at Fresh Start. And now a whole new door opens, beyond which is the unmapped terrain of just the possibility of relationships.

I have no idea how to operate.

This fact makes me angry at that barstool of ideas that I got myself stuck to at such an early age. Although, I shouldn’t be angry. It’s not as though the barstool had any say in the matter. And it is not as though anything happens on accident. Being stuck to the barstool has also kept me from falling on the floor. Jelly gets stuck on the bottom of people’s bare, stinky, morning feet when it falls on the floor. Or it will get particles of crushed Rice Krispies permanently attached to its surface. Or dust bunnies.

It doesn’t change that I am completely awkward around men. Actually, the word awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it. And man, do I hate being awkward. It just makes me mad. It makes me wonder if I will drive everyone away with my stupid awkwardness. I hate that stupid thought.

(As a side note, I have words I could use other than “stupid.” But they are equally uncreative. So I’ll stick to the G-rated version.)

There isn’t one can really do about these things, I suppose. All the jelly can do is be happy where it is and wait. Maybe on a boiling summer’s day it’ll get hot enough, and the jelly will drip free all of its own accord….Role on down that barstool.

I apologize for that metaphor. That was ridiculous.

Anyhoozle. I believe that someday that might happen. And if it doesn’t, God obviously has another plan for me. And it’ll be good either way…I just have to keep repeating that to myself.

In the mean time, I know what I do not want.

I don’t want to be saved by a knight in shining armor; Jesus has done that already for me.

I don’t want to set out in search of husband. I will not put my lipstick smile on and parade myself around in search of the cure for loneliness. The suggestion that I should do so is quickly becoming my new pet peeve. God will provide and that’s all there is to it. I will not wake love before it desires so.

I don’t want to be the house-wife. With her apron on, a feather duster in one hand and a baby in the other. I don’t mean to offend anyone by saying this, but I simply refuse to conform to this lifestyle. Not because it’s prehistoric like all the feminists in all the movies say, not because it’s necessarily wrong, but because I would go crazy doing that. I would shake the baby and stab someone in the eye with the feather duster. It may be all well and good for some people; not me. I have a gypsy heart. I will move where I need to. And if a man is going to hold me down, I am sorry but my parents are going to have to wait a little longer for grandkids. That’s that.

If I am going to get married, I will be taking a partner in crime, so to speak. I will not be retiring my personality. O contraire. It will be to reflect one another, thereby making the personalities brighter.That's probably idealistic and naiive but at the moment I don't care.
I know there’s more, but I took a break to watch Jack Bauer and now my thoughts are all jumbled….Crud.

Well for now, that’s all I have to say about that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fe1_N7v6Wlc Newest romance movie that I heart. I've been watching this clip over and over for the music, which is from Last of the Samurai.