Foundations

You know what I love most about books, motion pictures and television shows? I love not only the escapism aspect but also the way they make you questions things that are happening in your life better then any other medium. I especially love it when it comes out of nowhere.

Sat in front of the television this afternoon I started to watch The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, granted not a cinematic vision but still it holds a place in my damaged heart. As I watched these four young women blossom, find romance, accept romance, find their place and answers it was like it spoke directly to me.

Tibby is my favourite character, forgetting for a moment that I absolutely adore Alexis Bledel, the character of whom I most relate to. After suffering a pregnancy scare she dumps her devoted boyfriend in an ‘I’m going to hurt you before you ultimately hurt me’ manner. Which leads to evitable line “You need to have a little faith, Tibby. Not everyone you love is going to leave you,”

Each character brings the element of relationships and trust into play whilst remaining light frothy fun. It delves into parental issues, and god knows I have a lot of them, and romantic ones “Why can’t you stop thinking about it and follow your heart?” “Because he broke my heart!” and of course it looks intimately at the friendships that the girls have with each other.

Next course of action was to read a little. Now I must explain first I am a wannabe writer, which might shock you since I realise, these blogs aren’t exactly sculpted or grammatically correct but as they represent my thoughts I don’t care. Usually I write poems or novels that are bit, well, depressing is one word, prostitution, post natal depression and a lot of love loss and death are involved. Recently though I set myself a little challenge. I want to write a Mills and Boon, mainly because it would be fun I naively thought and secondly getting published by them would give me a foothold in the writing world. Now as a strictly Margaret Atwood style reader the most romantic books I have read are Jane Austen style, dilemma number one. So I went to Grammy, an avid reader for more years then she’d wish for me to announce, and borrowed some of hers. Most of them were hard reading, the feminist at me yelling at the top of my lungs, but, a few of them…well…they did something to me which led nicely into me thinking of relationships again.

I’m not a good dater, never have been, never will be. I cut and run at the first sign of danger if we even get that far. I’ve had two serious relationships in my life both of which were a disaster, which is the main reason I lasted so long in them. My first one I had we lasted two years, in which I moved in with him and he basically hurt me in every way possible, never mind move on. Then there was him, the guy who I even stated to before we started actually dating rather then dancing around each other, that he would either be the best thing that ever happened to me or one of us would fuck the other well and truly up…guess what happened and to whom.

Back to the Mills and Boon world though I started noticing how even though it is quite deep down I have sculpted this image of a guy in my head that doesn’t exist. This guy is a cut and dry Mills and Boon hero/Disney character/Jane Austen novel gorgeous man. These men don’t exist. And moreover I seem to choose the more sociopathic ones J.

Next activity was the writing part of my day, that didn’t go well, never really does. Then came Being Erica. It seems my entire day I have been confronted with these issues about relationships that I need to work through. Albeit so does a lot of people but this is my blog it’s about me so…Erica always makes me contemplate my life, my role in the world and why it is that I can’t have a time travelling psychiatrist.
So here I am at two o’clock in the morning again just thinking. Thinking about the relationships in my life. Thinking about why everything seems to be changing at the speed of light and leaving me feeling exactly the same as I did when I was thirteen years old?
Maybe it is just a human condition. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, I’m not in the weird belief that I am special in someway that I am feeling things that no one has ever experienced, but why do we feel this…insecurity about change and people. Why is it so damn hard to just let someone real, made of flesh and blood full of conflicting emotions and eccentricities, in?