My Musings

I really shouldn't read/watch Jane Austen in the middle of a busy week.  Besides the fact that I'm reading/watching Jane Austen instead of working, I am further distracted by self-contemplation that puts me in danger of reverting into a wrapped in a blanket, chocolate eating, and crying at romantic movies and books individual.

So I can move on with my life and finish my homework, here's what I've thought:

I pretend I'm tough (mostly to myself).  Through the maze of vague answers, past the retreating walls, and across the falling quickly bridge is a sensitive side that dreams of big things.  I dream of a glorious love, a wonderful career, and a beautiful family and home.  Well, there's a problem with those dreams.  I may have even more relationship booby traps rigged, like barbs of honesty, mists of disinterest, and high fences of expectations.  Perhaps I should make it a little easier to let people get to that soft spot in my heart?

It's a tad melodramatic but sometimes I feel like this:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it up carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."
- C.S. Lewis

But, as my lovely roommate Olivia says, just recognizing that and wanting something better means I'm not a cold-hearted lameoface.  Plus, I'm only 20 years old.  Not an old maid yet :P