I do not know about you, but I am a fan of romantic comedies. I always marvel at the beauty of these stories. How extremely silly or thoughtful the characters are. They are just like us, except they are more. They are caricatures with whom we can identify. They think less and they act more. It seems to make them very happy. Sometimes they think too much and end up being very lucky. I do not believe in, nor do I appreciate those types of storylines as much. My favorites are the ones that are packed with action. I adore it when things happen, and the characters make choices, good or bad choices, but those choices always end up well received. Romantic movies remind us that there are great people around us, and they are well worth taking a leap for.
I am really good at watching, appreciating, or creating moments in stories. I enjoy it so much, it makes me feel elated, when I write or watch or read about amazing love stories, grand gestures and magical love affairs. My imagination is packed with great ideas and wonderful romantic moves, but when comes the time to endorse them and do it for real, i.e. make a move so bold it could feature in one of Sparks’ novels; I am just like anyone else. I am petrified. I would like to borrow the supernatural abilities of a gifted medium to know the ending, before a story even begins in real life, so that I could peacefully make my way to the entrance, or to the exit, risk free.
I do not want to know everything. I love surprises – tasteful ones that is. I just wish to know whether that special person fancies me or not. If he does not, then, that is all right, I am not hooked, not yet, so I can move on and avert from any further damages to my self-esteem. If there is a chance he does like me, then I will hop on the next train, camp on his doorstep, and wait until his figure pops up. Hell, I might even bring my guitar on the journey, and play my way to his attention, my untrained voice highlighting this action.
That is not how it works though. Still, I can hope for a little bit of luck. Maybe he will contact me, who knows. If not, all I can borrow to face the uncertainty of my future is a whole lot of courage to act on my next move. If he is a decent person, it should go smoothly, regardless of how he feels. The way I see it, he can just brush me off nicely, or give me his phone number, or even have a drink with me and smile back, because he is so stoked to see me. If he is not a decent person – which I highly doubt, because I seem to like him – then that will make it all that much easier to put him behind me.
So what am I still waiting for? you say. No matter the outcome, a grand gesture seems to be the only acceptable release from all this thinking. I can either go for it, or just find a way to move on without knowing. The first option is nuts, but brave, and it could be fun. The second option is cowardly in a way, definitely not fun, and not as easy as it seems. Someone who imprints on you cannot be hastily swayed away. Not acting on it will empower his souvenir, and poison it with a taste of unfinished business. Yuk!
No matter what happens, I will pick up my pen and be inspired by the action. That is the great blessing and curse of being a writer. Every little thing matters. Everything I live and observe inspires me. I just need to type it all down. Good or bad. Happy or hurt. Peaceful or numb. Whether I put it straight out there, under my name, or borrow one of the voices of my beloved characters to unleash what is weighing on my heart, you will hear about it. I can’t resist the draw. I just have to share it all. So rejoice, because you will hear about it my friends. You will hear about it.