New Project!

Hi My Little Darlings!

My best friend and I have come up with this fantastic idea to keep each other updated on our lives, video letters. So, I just started a YouTube Channel that will have all sorts of fun stuff on there. Please check it out. Here is my first episode:

Love Expert Debunked

The most prevalent theme in our culture is heard in nearly every song, seen in practically every movie and read about in almost every book. People have studied it, erected monuments to it, lived and died for it. Love. Love, it appears, is what we as a society eats, sleeps and breathes. It seems as though it is what literally makes the world go round. Love is probably the most lucrative idea our world has ever tapped into. It is the most integral thing that defines us as human beings.

What is it about love that captures us so? I think the answer to that question is as elusive as the subject matter. It’s as if a well in each of is touched with every glance, with every fluttering or caress; and that feeling that is produced in those moments has become our greatest addiction. We will go to the ends of the earth and beyond in the name of love. We will give all the wealth of our house for love. And like Romeo and Juliet, though fiction, we will give our very lives for love.

Such a lofty concept, it seems it can never be confined to a box, no matter how hard we try; and yet, there are those that claim to be experts of it. Individuals that carry an extremely high opinion of their knowledge, as it pertains to matters of the heart. As if they have bottled it or discovered the infallible formula for it. Such faith in their ability to give you that one thing you desire most that they charge a fee for their services.

I googled “love expert” just to see what I was dealing with and 28,700,000 results were produced. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. On the first page alone, every website listed was a different person claiming they had the golden ticket. How can this be? When the Johnny and Junes of the world seem so rare.

I did a little research and though the divorce rate has dropped from a whooping 50% in the 80s to about 40% in present time, some say that this is only because people are getting married less and less. In my continued research, I found this to be true. One article in the Huffington Post claims that the marriage rate is sitting at 31.1 at the moment, which means for every 1,000 women only 31 of them will get married this year. As a comparison, they stated that in the 1920s the marriage rate was at a staggering 92.3. My how the mighty have fallen.

After finding out all this information, the first question to pop into my mind is, how do love experts measure their success? Is it simply getting couples to the altar? If so, to that I say, big deal. You could get Britney Spears and her childhood friend to a Vegas chapel for a marriage that lasts exactly one day. I could care less how many people you can get to say I do. What matters is how many of those people that say I do actually stay married. Now, I’m a bit of a realist, so while I believe that marriage should last for the rest of your life, I know the culture we live in. So, for me a success for someone in this profession should be a marriage with a ten year minimum. That may sound harsh, but anyone can fake it for a few years to save face. Longevity implies work, sacrifice and true sustained emotion.

So what does this all mean? I think it means that there really is no such thing as a love expert. Not because love is so mysterious and unpredictable, as many would claim, but because we are. Love isn’t what changes, we do. Love doesn’t throw in the towel and give up, we do. It isn’t flighty or unreliable, we are. If love were any of those things it would be contradicting itself. Any person with an ounce of wisdom will tell you that love isn’t uncontrollable. It isn’t something you can just fall in and out of. Love is more than just a sentiment, it is a choice. It’s why so many of these so-called love experts have degrees in psychology. They studied the science of the mind and behavior, of what? Not love, of humans. We are the controllers of love; and because of that there will never be a formula, or potion or golden ticket. So, my advice to you is keep your money. Spend it on something that makes you happy today, not on the false hope of a happy tomorrow.

My One Night of Debauchery (New Years Eve)

As promised, I am delivering the story of my crazy New Year’s celebration. First let me say, any New Years I have had in the past were strictly PG-13. When I was younger, it usually entailed going to Bayside with my family to be on the beach, play the boardwalk games and see the fireworks. As I got older it usually meant being at a conference with about 20,000 strangers, very anti-climactic. For once I wanted a stereotypical night of drinks, party hats, dancing and an entire room full of people counting down and kissing each other when the ball drops. I wanted the last scene from “When Harry Met Sally.” Well, let me tell you, we are not in the early 90s my friend. All that PG-13 crap has flown out the window.

The night started off pretty innocently. My friend came over to my house to change after work. We both had a glass of pink champagne and headed out to a place called Kelly’s to meet up with some people. When we arrived the night was in full swing. Everyone was dressed up and decked out in New Year’s Eve garb. My friend and I got ourselves a drink and joined the fun. Apparently, we were late to the drinking game cause while we were completely sober-minded, others were so piss drunk they couldn’t even tell you their own names. I’m talking super sloppy, which is not really my scene. About twenty minutes in, I’m getting pulled onto the dance floor by some drunk rando that grabbed my arm as I was talking to my friend. I was about two seconds from tasering him when this blonde girl he was with whispered in my ear, begging me to save her and just dance with him once. I decided to do her a favor so, here I am with a completely stranger too wasted to tell me his name when I asked and he’s swinging me around on the dance floor. Meanwhile, I’m looking at my friends like, “why did I agree to this?” Apparently, my face was so priceless, my friend took a picture and posted in on social media without my knowledge. Later on, another drunk guy rams into my friend and proceeds to try and apologize, but all I got was “You guys are hot….” slur, slur, slur.

Midnight rolls around and by this time I have two drinks and a Jello shot in me, so when a friend of a friend, whom I had just met asks for a kiss, I consent. Totally not my personality. Confession time: I haven’t kissed a guy in like three years, maybe longer, before this night. I guess I just thought I was overdue. HUGE MISTAKE! It was mediocre, at best. Moving on, we decided to leave to another spot across the street, but not before one of the people in our group gets a penis hat from the balloon animal guy. At this point, I am having a good time, but officially out of my comfort zone.

Finally, we ended the night at this really sketchy gay bar where we went to dance. I expected “Birdcage,”  I got something entirely different. Proof of my naivety and total lack of experience. This place was so not on the level, at one point some random stranger walked up to me on the dance floor and asked me if I or any of the people I was with had cocaine. Time to go. Shamefully, this is where I kissed the friend of a friend again. I thought maybe the first time was a fluke, it wasn’t.

All in all, waking up the next day I harbored regrets. Though I did not get drunk, not even close, I kissed a random nobody and it just wasn’t me. And that’s just it, I have to be true to myself. I am a good girl through and through and for the first time, I’m not only proud of it, I prefer it. I have walked on the wild side and I find I would rather be at home reading a book and knitting. Don’t get me wrong, I like going out and will continue to do s , in moderation; but “going out” for me looks very different than it does for most; and I discovered I am more than okay with that.

10388578_10152435557467132_3197069375894738277_n 10428439_10152435537167132_8013000190323957042_n


Exciting News!!!

Hello My Little Darlings,

Sorry I have been MIA, but I figured it was time to take the bull by the horns. As many of you know, I’m in school getting my English degree; and though I have lamented that I am going to be thirty and just graduating, nevertheless, I am glad I’m finally going for the dream of becoming a full fledged professional writer. Being so close to my last two years has got me thinking a lot about the near future. Studying abroad, doing an internship, building my writing resume, etc… And I figured it’s time to get cracking on that list.

I did some research for freelance writing gigs and decided to submit some work to an online publication called Skirt Collective, please go check them out Long story short, I got published! More importantly, I am about to be published yet again. I am thrilled with the relationship I am building with this publication and hope it will blossom and open other doors of opportunity.

I will be diving more into the freelance world, as my confidence has been boosted by the feedback I have received from readers and publishers. However, I don’t want to neglect you all, so I am writing this to say that I will be posting soon. It’s all about my crazy New Years that was straight out of a college drinking flick. Definitely glad its over and I never want to do it again. Hope your interest is peeked, because I don’t think the story will disappoint. Until next time!

Books & Beans: The Scorch Trials (Maze Runner Series)

I haven’t done a book review in some time and I believe it is overdue. Especially since my last book review was part of a series and I left you hanging on the first book. Now, I know some of you subscribe to this blog because of the interesting relational topics discussed, but for those who read and enjoy the book reviews, I have decided to call this time Books & Beans. You will get a book review and a coffee/tea pairing to perfectly match the novel. Let’s begin Bookites!

The Book: The Scorch Trials (Book 2)
The Author: James Dashner
The Genre: Young Adult Post-Apocalyptic


After getting off the rollercoaster ride that is the first book in this series, you might think a breather is in order. Maybe you pick up an in between stand-alone just to take the edge off. Then, that nagging feeling starts gnawing away in the back of your mind. You need to know. You need to know what happens next. Everything was left at such a critical point, SPOLIER ALERT They finally gained their freedom and seemingly defeated WCKD. They are given all the reassurance that they are safe and protected from the clutches of their previous tormentor. Just as they are settling into this new life, a massive wrench gets thrown in and you realize, this is just the beginning.

This second installment exposes a whole new world, beyond the maze. You get to experience it with the characters as they venture out into the “real world”, the condition of which is a far cry from anything they had spent countless nights imagining. Phase 2 of what they are being put through is beginning and it’s one of pushing the boundaries of each character. Our hero, Thomas, gets betrayed in the most heart-wrenching way; and it so marks him that he is never the same after that point.
Everything is manipulated, controlled. They are puppets in a show, mice in a maze; and for the supposed benefit of humanity. They are the keys to unlocking the future, though they can barely recall their own names. They must get through, they must survive and that’s the name of the game. In the process of all this, new connections are made and old ones will be severed. True tests of friendship will occur and the truth will be exposed about who can be trusted and who can’t.

A character is introduced in this book that I feel in love with immediately, Brenda. She is a fast talking, brazen and supposedly diseased character. Most importantly, she will push Thomas in ways that have him questioning everything he set his foundation on in the first book. Can you say, love triangle?

This novel has it all: adventure, love, mind bending plots, crazy twists and turns. By the time you get to the end of it, you’ll feel like you just ran a marathon. So much emotion, so much distrust arises (for me as the reader). The mysteries do continue to unfold, but again, are like drops of water in the desert. Dashner gives you just the right amount of information that keeps you going and pressing forward; but not enough to make accurate predictions of the future; and in true trilogy fashion, beautifully sets you up for the final book, with a nice and juicy cliffhanger.

If you interested in more information on the book or other’s opinions of it, check out the link below:

This book has more bitter than sweet, so I’m gonna have to pull out all the stops to figure out what would pair perfectly. I would say a French press of…

French Roast

It’s a dark roast that is described as smoky and singular. Now, if that ain’t scorching, I don’t know what is!

Grab a pound from Starbucks, by clicking on to the following link:,default,pd.html

Heather and the Happily Ever After

I was feeling nostalgic the other day and went exploring through old videos on YouTube of songs I used to listen to years ago. I came across a song that talked about not needing a man because they were happy being free, doing their own thing, etc… They didn’t need a ring around their finger, so on and so forth. I find this comical, when on the same album majority of their songs are about finding a man and falling in love. Isn’t that the perfect picture of human nature? We are, all of us, walking contradictions. None of the feelings that provoked the writing of these songs are any less legitimate just because one school of thought may be in opposition to another. I think, as women, we want to be independent and self-sufficient because it’s a necessary part of life and it’s also greatly empowering. I think we also want to be loved and taken care of. These are two very real and valid parts of who we are. Furthermore, I don’t think one should be sacrificed on the altar of the other.

The issue is when any one side dominates an individual’s life. I was always a hopeless romantic even before I really understood the concept of love. It was everywhere and in everything. Movies, music, human behavior, etc… All I had to do was step outside my door and it was there. In every kiss, intertwined hand, hug, etc… I was conditioned from my early years to desire love and relationships. Now, there are all kinds of love. The love between a parent and a child, between siblings and friends; but the one kind of love that everyone seemed to be inspired by and clamoring for was the romantic kind.

I was raised by a single mother, so I knew the instability of romantic relationships, yet I still held onto a lot of my naïve sentiments. My mother was also very strong-willed and independent. She taught her children to be the same way. She never told us what out lives were ideally supposed to look like. She never discouraged our dreams, but she also never encouraged them with much beyond a few words. To be plain, she was pretty hands off when it came to guiding us toward a clear path. I was left to look to media and my church family for direction. I think you can tell where this is going. Love. Love was the ultimate goal, the thing to aspire toward, to grab a hold of.

I spent twenty-eight years working toward this goal. After I got saved I talked to married couples, gleaned from experienced woman, read books, listened to sermons, etc… I was preparing myself for my husband. I was confronting my baggage, so that I could have a clean slate in my marriage. I had never worked harder at anything in my entire life. Meanwhile, everything else was put on the back burner, left to simmer and ultimately grow cold.

As I got older and relationships came and went with no wedding ring, no blissfully ever after I became disillusioned, angry, bitter and depressed. I came to realize that I was trying to control the one thing that is uncontrollable and letting die all the things that could have made me happy in the here and now. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I knew I had to come to terms that my focus had been wrong all these years. Don’t misunderstand, this is not about not wanting to be married or find love. This is about having more going on in your life that makes you happy and fulfilled than marriage.

Now, I don’t regret all the growing and learning I went through for marriage because it made me the person I am today. Someone who is whole and happy on her own. However, I do regret that I didn’t focus on my dreams, in terms of my career, sooner. Now, regret is a wasted emotion, so rather than wallow in self-pity I went back to school. It’s true, I will be thirty when I graduate, but I will finally be on the path I always wanted. The one that was overshadowed and placed on the back burner because I thought I had time, that what I was currently doing was more important. The truth is that I may still be single when graduation day comes. I can’t allow my happiness to be entirely dependent on the “one day prince charming will come”; and if I am not doing anything to better my life now, than I can claim that’s not what I am doing all day long, but it would be a lie. So, I’m active, I’m moving forward and making changes for a happier tomorrow; and I’m proud of me.

I am also ecstatic to see that media has finally seen the light and is following suit, encouraging young girls to pursue their dreams and become trailblazers. Be their own knights in shining armor, rather than sitting around, twiddling their thumbs waiting for one. Maybe this generation will finally be the ones to find the balance between independence and love.

Resting Bitch Face Syndrome

The semester is over and so I am back on the blogosphere. Truth be told I never left. Yes, it’s true… I had a blog affair. I was taking an Upper Level Elective writing class for my degree and a large chunk of my grade depended on maintaining a focused blog throughout the session. My blog was centered around book reviews, Young Adult novels in particular; but it’s over now and I am back to my true love, these diaries.

I wish I had some crazy stories or amazing news to give you guys, but the last two months have been the standard daily grind of work and school. I did go to a The 1975 concert and yell at some Laguna Beach looking white kids who were smoking weed in an indoor venue. Look, you want to get high, that’s your own prerogative, but do it in an open space. I’m not for forcing a second hand high on people inhaling your cheap weed cause you don’t have any consideration for others. I’m also not for doing it at their age, they couldn’t have been more than sixteen. I’m also not their parents, though I felt like it in the moment. To be fair, I endured it through two crappy opening bands and had had enough. Weren’t they sufficiently high by this time? So, I threatened them and they stopped for the three minutes I stuck around them.

Things like this are easy for me. I have what they call, “Resting Bitch Face” Syndrome. It doesn’t matter what I am doing or what kind of mood I am in, people only ever have three first impressions of me and I have heard them over and over my entire life: I’m mean, I’m intimidating or I hate them. This is literally the story of my life.

I have spent my entire life explaining myself or apologizing for myself because of this. It’s like people expect me to change my entire personality or my physical appearance to make them feel more comfortable. My state of being affects people’s whole worlds. I have the superhuman ability to shatter their entire existence based on my mood; and no one ever takes my word on how I am actually feeling. Why would I lie about this? I am not passive aggressive. I have no qualms about telling people what I am thinking or what emotional state I am in.

Just recently I went through an incident at work where someone who is related to one of  my co-workers decided that I was just like her husbands ex-girlfriend. Talk about projecting your issues. I had literally said two words to this woman at this point, but she felt comfortable enough to tell me exactly who I was like. In fact, people tell me all the time what they think of me as if because I am a strong person, I am made of steal and devoid of the ability to be hurt or affected by people’s words. It’s always some backhanded compliment, like I am nicer than they expected. How am I supposed to respond in these situations? What are people expecting of me? Do they want me to thank them? Comfort them? Explain myself to them so they can move on with their lives?

This incident with my co-worker’s relative is nothing new for me. I have spent my whole life trying to make other people happy by constantly holding myself back or bending to accommodate their personalities; and never was it reciprocated. All the while, I am miserable thinking the problem is me because I am the common denominator. I’m too strong, too unreadable, too intimidating, too me; but I don’t know how to be anyone else. So, I’ve spent practically my whole life thinking I was wrong, thinking I was too much to handle, too much of a challenge, too difficult. Nothing I did helped this. No amount of smiling, laughing, joking around or quirkiness could undo it. No amount of kindness, consideration or compassion could overshadow it. I was and am, marked for life.

However, something shifted after this particular instance. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was finally done explaining. I was done apologizing. I no longer cared to cater to other people’s opinions of me. Now, I know this might not make me anymore friends. In fact, it could just end up creating more enemies, but I will finally be able to stop beating myself up for something that isn’t actually my problem. I can finally be free to be happy living in my own skin, loving all of me, not just part of me; and that’s enough for me

If you have “Resting Bitch Face” just know that you are not alone. More importantly, you are understood. You have my empathy. What I would like you to know is an age old saying that has literally saved my sanity, “our reactions are our responsibility.” How people respond to you is not your issue or burden to carry around. You have no obligation to justify yourself to anyone. If they don’t understand you than a conundrum you will remain. It’s not your job to bring peace to their world over who you are and what you are about. Be yourself unapologetically. Be free.

The Reemergrance of John Doe

I guess you can’t really qualify what I’m about to say as serendipitous. It’s not one of those things that couldn’t exist without the hand of fate. This is simply interesting. So, for those of you who’ve read my previous entries, you’ll know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, than I suggest you go back and visit, “John Doe and Mr. Wrong” and “The Death of Mr. Wrong and John Doe Revealed”.

Out of the blue, my friend texts me to go see a local band at this bar with his friends. At first I thought he had accidentally text the wrong person, because it was so out of the blue and if you know me, you’ll know I’m not exactly the partying kind. However, I was working at the time and decided that I needed it, so I said yes.

When I met up with my friend I expected it to be awkward. I didn’t know his girlfriend or any of his friends, but I was told that others I knew would be there. Long story short, a guy in the group made his way over to me and monopolized my night trying to get to know me. Trust me when I say, I’m not complaining, but again, it’s not something I’m used to. We ended up leaving at the same time and we exchanged numbers, in a roundabout way.

Talking with him over the course of a few days, suddenly this random thought struck me. His name sounded familiar. Like I had heard it before I ever met me. Then the dots started connecting and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “No, it can’t be.” I rushed to this very blog, scrolling down to where I knew the information I needed would be found. Sure enough, his name was there in black and white. Jeff, the guy I met at this random bar, the guy I seemingly hit it off with was John Doe. The same John Doe that my friend (Mr. Wrong) was going to set me up with for my birthday.

Now, before you get excited, let me bring you back down to reality. Nothing has happened with Jeff. In fact, I’m pretty certain nothing will ever happen with Jeff. Plainly, I just don’t think he’s interested. I don’t have an explanation for how a person can appear interested one minute, even going as far as getting your number and then it fizzle out and things go on as they did before you ever met them. I wish I knew what went on in the head of such people. What was the turning point? When did you make up your mind that nothing was ever going to happen? How can you decide such a definitive thing after such little interaction?

In conclusion, I know I am a bit inexperienced, despite the amount of relationships I have had in my life. I have no idea how dating is supposed to work. More importantly, I feel like the current state of being single and putting yourself out there is fairly pointless when you think about the condition of the dating world today. What do I mean? There is only one person who can make my feelings about the subject so plainly clear. Enjoy!

Is God Real?

I have completely neglected you, My Little Darlings. I’m about to start college back up this upcoming week and in true booknerd fashion, I have been binge reading because I know I wont have as much time when school starts. Today I thought I was gonna go with an “easy” entry. I am due for another book review and I was on The Maze Runner Series, but my mind went “screw it, I’m gonna talk about what’s on really rolling around in my head.” For the past six months I have been in a religious crisis and I feel like I am on the brink of losing my mind. So, I’ve gotta get out some of this pent up energy about the subject.

I grew up in a Christian home, but my family weren’t “active believers”. We went to church some Sundays, but that was the extent of it. Once upon a time my mom was very active in her church community, but this was before I even came into the picture. I have my own horror stories about my childhood, as most people do and frankly, it’s not worth getting into right now. This isn’t about my testimony. So, fast forward to high school and I actually start believing in God and Jesus. I start praying and reading my bible. Getting to know this God. I went to a church that was massively screwed up and I managed to, not only escape but not become angry with God in the process. I was very aware that people make their own decisions and God isn’t to blame for their bad choices. By this time I felt like I had started to get to know his heart and I knew that what they were doing and how they were treating people wasn’t a reflection of it.

For a while I floated around until I settled in Kansas City. I found a good, stable church with plenty of flaws, as all churches have. I was “on top of the world” and loving it. I felt sure of myself and sure of my faith. The saying, “ignorance is bliss” comes to mind. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t believe in God or Jesus, but after my best friend started questioning what she believed and whether or not God really did exist, all these questions and doubts started surfacing. Then I went through a massive heart break and it was like I was one, big, gaping wound. All this sent me into a spiral that I haven’t really been able to fully recover from as of yet.

The insane thing is that I still really love God and Jesus. Call me a sheep or a mindless robot, but my life is better when He is involved and I don’t want it any other way. However, I can’t ignore the questions and doubts. It’s not in me to sweep them under the rug and act like they don’t exist, even though it scares the ever-loving crap out of me. I’m choosing to look at this in a positive light. This is an opportunity to make my beliefs my own. To have ownership over what it is that I claim to believe. Especially because this is what I have built my life on.

This has probably been the hardest and most torturous thing I have ever gone through. There are times I honestly wish I could go back to when I was sure and solid; but I am a firm believer in things happening for a reason, so I don’t think all that’s been stirred up is purely coincidental. If it were than what would be the f*$king point? What would be the point of any of it? I might as well stop breathing.

It boils down to this, I’ve meet some crappy Christians and I know great ones. Yes, there are “rules”, but I see the point. The logic behind certain things He wants us to refrain from, for our own good. I have tested it. I have seen and met the consequences. There are a lot of opinions out there. I still have to filter through the BS, the doctrines that were created in the gray areas. Things that people want to stand on as absolute truth and make them nooses around people’s necks. There are definite grey areas and then there are things that are purely black and white. Not everything I understand and it definitely does take a level of faith to keep going and keep believing. What I want is peace and assurity in my own heart. I want to live simply; and I to whittle it down to these two profound principles, Love God and Love People.

The End.

The Romantic and The Real World

It’s cold here in Kansas City. Last night was the perfect weather for a bonfire, s’mores and flirting with a random looking at you through the flickering flames. I, however, am a native Floridian and it was a little too chilly for me to stand outside next to a fire barely giving me enough warmth to keep my fingers from going numb. Instead, I decided to curl up on my couch, wearing my elf-like knitted booties, wrapped in my green fleece blanket, with my dinner and a movie. My pick, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. The Kiera Knightley version, not the torturous 5 hour BBC Colin Firth version. As a Janeite, I am aware that the one I choose is not accurate to the novel. There is a lot about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy that is romanticized. However, it does cause heavy sighs, tummy flutters and floaty swoons; and what more can a girl ask for?

Half way through the movie one of my roommates came home and decided to plop down on the couch and watch the movie with me. I loved it because we both have seen this numerous times and so we spent the remaining time giving commentary on all the scenes as they were unfolding. All was right in the world until the last scene of the movie. Of course, it’s the scene with the most feels. The culmination of the journey, the point in which the characters and the audience find resolution. I spent this sweet moment laughing and consoling my roommate as she writhed in agony over this fictional scene that she desperately wanted to happen to her in real life. I kid you not, at one point she was upside down, sliding head first off the couch. She was half hope, half agony (Let the reader understand).

At one point, she was reasoning with herself out loud about these swoon worthy moments. Her argument is that she knew that she couldn’t base all her romantic ideals on movies like the one we were watching. That life has a lot more going on than one feet sweeping moment after the other. However, she wanted to believe that there were times, though rare, where things like this could happen. Moments when a guy, who is genuinely in love would spew an epic monologue that could make any girl weak in the knees, complete with grand gestures and confessions of undying devotion. All I could do was smile and nod.

I have had this discussion or debate with myself numerous times. The results are usually based on whatever is happening in my life at the moment. That says a lot. A truth is supposed to be resolute, not subjective; so I am probably the last person who should be giving advice about this. On one hand I figure that if these stories can be conjured up that there has to be some point of reference, some example to help it along. Yes, there is fluff added and we only see an ounce of the whole journey, but still, somewhere in the world, at certain points ridiculously romantic things must happen. These are the very things that inspire the stories that fill the pages of our books and the movie screens at our local theater. As soon as this thought crosses my mind, it goes into devil’s advocate mode. It could just be that people write or create the moments they want to see happen, the things that don’t really exist. Both ideas take a certain amount of faith to believe.

Then there is the other hand. The one that holds the real life experience. In my life I can number on one hand instances you might deem movie worthy moments, and that’s stretching it. So, what do I say to my roommate who is teetering between heaven and hell, looking for something or someone to push her toward the “right side”? My response is to say nothing really. How can I sway her to any side, when I’m not sure which one I’m even on? Maybe the point is that there is no side, but a balance. That we shouldn’t be the pendulum sweeping back and forth and never steadying; but rather, we need to find the middle and settle there.

The thing that struck me most was that she is a true picture of every woman I know. There are so many women who have no idea what to do with the desire they have burning inside them. The desire that goes unfulfilled as they endure disappointment after disappointment. The desire that causes them to make decisions based solely on their need to see that well inside them touched. Ninety-nine percent of the time these decisions are irrational and unwise, with heartbreaking consequences. That does little to deter them from carrying out this behavior time and time again, all because of this consuming thorn in their side called hope. It’s the thing that will keep them holding on, against all odds and in the face of impossible circumstances. Even if it’s false and barely hanging on by a thread. Why? because the thought that something so extraordinary could happen to them is like a drug; and the alternative is too depressing to consider.

Is this insanity? The same behavior over and over expecting a different outcome. Is it a noble pursuit that will bear good fruit for your suffering? What do I say to these woman in their emotional swirls? What do I say to them in their bitter rants? Where is the balance? the line. Is there even a line? The universal thorn in women’s side. The curse going back to the Garden of Eden, “Your desire will be for your husband.” I’m pulling out all the stops here. Whatever the case may be, it’s time we either lay it to rest or start seeing some results.