Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.

I’ve decided that romance novels should be moved to a different section of the bookstore. I feel that they would be more appropriately placed right smack dab in the middle of fantasy, because let’s face it, romance authors are masters at putting fantasies on the page. Every woman, whether she is plain or pretty, fat or fat free, finds the love of a successful, desirable, wonderful and fantastic fantasy man in every book. Someone who is not only good-looking but comes equipped with a big bank account and an even bigger heart. Have all the fictional men I’ve read about ruined me for romance with a real man?? Most definitely. But you know what they say: The first step to recovery is to admit that you have a problem. My problem is that I want an ideal that no real man will ever live up to. I’m picky. Shallow even. Everyone says that I’ll find love when I least expect it. In romance novels this is most certainly true. They never expect it in the beginning and then bam! It smacks the unwitting lovebirds right in the kisser. Literally. Why can’t life be like a romance novel? A funny one, not one of the aforementioned Fabio-on-the-cover novels; I’m not a masochist. I want life to be like a light and frothy romance novel where the worst thing that happens to you is you get caught in a rainstorm outside an inn that only has one room available and (gasp!) the room only has one bed! Awkwardness ensues, ends in ruination, forced marriage and happily ever after. Not that I specifically want something like that to happen… but even good girls like a little ruination every now and again. Just kidding. Maybe. Romance novels are meant to be about an ideal, they provide an escape from life’s all too real disappointments, but its important to have those feelings of disappointment because it means you’re really living. When that story is done you have the opportunity to go and live a new one, which one can only hope, will be better than the last. A story rife ruination and sparse in disappointment.

Insert thought provoking status here

            The professor for my Classics and Cinema class always goes off on the strangest tangents. It is not uncommon for him to lead a discussion in class about some topic that has nothing to do with what is actually going on in class. In the third week of the semester we were watching a very cheesy made-for-TV miniseries, The Odyssey. There was some discussion about the movie and the original story that it was based on and then somehow (the processes of his mind makes no sense to me) he segued into a discussion about Facebook. He wanted to know our thoughts on how social networking sites will affect the intelligence of my generation and generations to come. Are we smarter because of it or is facebook contributing to the “dumbing down” of society? This has nothing to do with The Odyssey, but it is an interesting question and each time I log onto the site I think about it and I make more of an effort to pay attention to the way that I express myself. I write more now than I ever have before. It’s true that what I’m writing isn’t the next great American novel or all that significant, but I feel that if you get into the habit of lazy writing the only writing you will ever do will be lazy. I see it everyday; prolly in place of probably, def over definitely, all the LOL’s, LMAO’s, BFF’s and more take the place of actual words in our fast-paced society. We no longer have to spell words correctly because the computer’s spell check will do that for us. We don’t even spell the words out. There is no editor reading status updates or comments to correct every misplaced comma and deleting every excess word (much like this blog). At the same time though there are more people writing and reading and more people actively engaging in discussions that, some of the time, actually matter. Facebook can be used as a forum for debate. I have many friends who engage in debates every day regarding religion and politics. Everyday I do feel like I learn something new, or get introduced to something that I never knew existed. Sure, the new thing is often some web site that deals with drunken texts or the sadly unfashionable people who go to Walmart not realizing that anyone with a camera phone is liable to snap a picture of them and post it on the internet for people to chuckle at on their work breaks… that’s beside the point. It’s new! It’s different! And it fills me in on not only what I shouldn’t wear, but what I shouldn’t do while drinking…cough, cough…like texting. When will I learn?!

I believe that facebook and other sites like it can make people smarter, depending on how they use it. I feel smarter already and thanks to the hours spent typing all those LOL’s and LMAO’s I’ve increased my typing speed by 30% (rough guesstimate that makes my point). I write every day, and though what I write is never going to be turned into a novel, the words I put on the page entertain the people who read them. They might even inform them as well. It’s a nice thought.

I write and I write and I... you get the picture.

I am at this moment taking a break from writing an impossible paper. I know, I know, who writes when taking a break from writing? I can't even necessarily say that the difference lies in the category of business or pleasure because, though it may not seem like it, this blog is all business. But as far as work goes, it definitely provides more pleasure than most. Though this blog is supposed to remain within the realm of the literary (literary realm?) I have nothing truly literary to write about... though I did open with a sentence about writing. Minus the books I have read for school, those would be the books I've previously written about, I have not been able to read for pleasure in months! And there in lies my topic for literary discussion. I have rambled my way into an acceptable literary blog, how I long for summer so that I can lay out at the beach and read! I have 30 unread books just sitting on my shelf, calling me constantly, their spines straight and standing at attention hoping that one day I'll be able to actually give them attention. Oh books, how I miss you. One day soon we’ll be reunited. Specifically, in three weeks. I graduate then and will have tons of free time to get reacquainted with the books on my shelves. But until then, I have to focus on that other thing I have been neglecting for weeks—homework. So back I go to continue writing my paper…who am I kidding? I’m going to bed.

Memoirs are a well-known form of fiction.

I am currently reading the memoirs of a young hermaphrodite who lived in the mid-1800s for my Sex in Literature and Film class and it made me wonder… If I wrote a memoir would it ever be worth reading? The young man who wrote these memoirs committed suicide when he was 25 years old, a year younger than I am now. His memoirs are as short as his life, covering just a little over a hundred pages and yet his story is compelling. He was raised as a woman, in a boarding house ran by nuns. Herculine Barbin, tells of her young life surrounded by adoring nuns and loving schoolmates. She explains how her body was different from everyone else’s, how it was gangly and straight, while all the other girls were rounded and where they were smooth, Herculine was starting to grow hair. She seems to always have been attracted to women. In the book she describes multiple girls that she had a true passion for. During this time period apparently hermaphrodites were not forced into either sex at birth. The parents would of course raise them as one sex, Herculine was raised as a woman, but as the child reached adulthood they had to make the final choice of whether or not they would live the rest of their life as a man or a woman. Herculine chooses to live her life as a man and in the end cannot adjust to the change. So he commits suicide.

            My life is not so overly dramatic. Were I to write the story of my life what parts would I share? Could I write the story of my childhood, though it is only a vague impression of unhappiness and anger? Would I write the story of my teenage years? They were normal, not spectacular in any way worth sharing. Then again, Barbin’s childhood was not extraordinary either except for the fact that she was a man, and a woman, living as a woman amongst women, who she realized she passionately desired. That is what makes her story compelling, her passion. I need to find that emotion in my life and maybe something worthy enough to be written down will happen. I do not want to live a tragic life. I want my story to be a happy one—and a passionate one. A page-turner from beginning to end.

Why Men Love Bitches??

"From Doormat to Dreamgirl—A Woman’s Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship."

I have not read this book all the way through. To be honest I’ve only read a few of the bullet points but two of my friends are currently reading it and they swear that every word of it is truth.

Sherry Argov, a radio personality in Southern California at the time she wrote this book, asks the question, why do men like bitches? She doesn’t mean that men love women who are, well, bitches, but women who have confidence, who are independent thinkers, and who play by their own rules. Or, if you really think about it, women who play by her rules, all one hundred of her so-called “Attraction Principles.” I know that you are dying to read some examples, so here are a few:

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #5—If you start out dependent, it turns him off. But if it is something he can’t have, it becomes more of a challenge for him to get it.

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #10—When a woman doesn’t give in easily and doesn’t appear docile or submissive, it becomes more stimulating to obtain her.

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #18—Always give the appearance that he has plenty of space. It gets him to drop his guard.

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #37—If you give him a feeling of power, he’ll want to protect you and he’ll want to give you the world.

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #74—Men often automatically assume that a bitchier woman will be more assertive in bed, and that a nice girl will be more timid.

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #76—He’ll never respect you as being able to hold your own unless you can stand on your own two feet financially.

ATTRACTION PRINCIPLE #99—Truly powerful people don’t explain why they want respect. They simply don’t engage someone who doesn’t give it to them.

She discusses phone etiquette, what to do when planning a date, how to keep a man interested in bed. Basically, when a potential romantic interest calls or texts you don’t answer right away, give it a few hours, maybe a day. That way he’ll think you’re not that interested and he’ll work harder to attract you. If he asks you to go out that night, tell him you’re busy and that you’re available at some specific future date and time. Never accept a date that is made on short notice. This makes you seem too available.

It’s a game. All Argov is doing is giving you rules to win what she perceives to be the dating game.

My best friend read this book and thought it was genius. She is an avid consumer of self-help literature, but she reads these works and does not apply these rules to her life. The fact is, maybe it helps to know the rules but knowing doesn’t change who you are. You can be shown the light and still shy away from it. We all turn to the familiar. We follow comfortable patterns. Books like this are great at showing readers new possibilities. What they don’t do is guarantee that following these rules will bring about real change. Though the old ways of doing things haven’t worked, its easier to think that some day they will, that somewhere out there someone will like you for the way you are, and not for the game you play.

He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.

I have heard numerous people refer to romance novels as pornographic literature—those people have never read literature written by the Marquis de Sade. He was a depraved French Aristocrat who spent much of his life in prison, where he wrote most of his work, and the latter part of his life was spent in an insane asylum. He lived through the era of the French Revolution, spent time in the Bastille, and led a life as illicit as the works he wrote.

I just finished reading Philosophy in the Bedroom for a class on sex in literature and film and I have never been more disturbed. Vice and Virtue are turned on their heads in this story. God is replaced with Nature and Her whims are what rule men’s actions. There is no evil, only virtue is frowned upon and is seen as something that should be destroyed.

Women exist to please men and should do so indiscriminately. Fathers, brothers, husbands, sons, mothers, sisters, all should find pleasure with each other if the desire for such things lies within their breasts. Children should be corrupted. They are never too young to be introduced into a life of debauchery. Murder, infanticide, rape, sexual and physical abuse; these are all deemed acceptable practices.

The sex scenes are graphic, violent and disturbing. As you read his work you can’t help but feel that he truly had a disturbed mind. I can’t say that my life is better for having read de Sade, but I can say that my views on sexuality have slightly altered. I think in reading this book I’ve become even more prudish than before, while at the same time have never thought so much about sex. I am glad to have read the book, if only because by saying I have read it, that means its finished and I never have to read it again.

I like a little more actual romance in my “pornographic literature.” Along with a little more of a story, a little less philosophical discourse and a lot less Vice with more Virtue.

Writing is a way of talking without being interrupted.

I love to vent. When I get angry, I like nothing better than to talk someone else's ear off about how angry I am. I like relating how so and so has done me wrong. I like feeling justified in my anger. What I don't like is actually feeling angry. Anger is such a tiresome emotion that causes you to say and do hurtful things that you regret almost the instant you say or do them. I have a roommate who I constantly fight with, and I've found that the way for me to avoid regretful words is to write. I take all the hurtful, angry words that I want to shout in her face and I write them down in a very nasty note. A note filled with all the bitter emotions that come simmering to the surface and spewing forth like molten lava from fingers fighting the urge to curl into a fist. My writing is honest. It holds nothing back. My angry tears may stain the surface, while the dark lead marks show with what conviction I write my words. It's my passive aggressive form of confrontation. After I have finished writing my scathing retort to whatever altercation we just had I put the note some place she is sure is to find it and I walk away. Five minutes later of course I walk back and I tear it up, in a clearer frame of mind then I was at the time I was writing it. When I see my friend again, for she really is a very good friend, not just a roommate, I can talk to her about whatever issue we were having in a mature and respectful manner. The childish, mean-spirited Susan is torn up and thrown in the wastebasket and the adult Susan lives in harmony with her roommate for another day. Who knew that writing was the key to successful friendship?