"Back then I swore I was gonna marry him some day..."

So, it's been awhile since I've blogged. Erica told me I needed to probably close to two weeks ago, and i'm just now getting around to it. I'm so lazy...you'd think procrastination would end once I finished school, but I think it's getting increasingly worse. Not good.

Anyway, part of the reason I haven't written is because I haven't seemed to have anything to write about. But, while listening to the new Taylor Swift CD (yes, Taylor Swift. Everyone has their guilty pleasures, right?) that my brother got me for my birthday, I got to thinking. In one of the songs she talks about how, when you're fifteen, if someone tells you they love you, you don't even question it. You just believe them. Relationships at 15 are new, and exciting, and it feels like the beginning and the end of the world all at once. I remember the first real relationship I had. I was a little younger than 15, but it was the same idea. He was the world to me, and we loved each other and it didn't seem like it would ever end. Until, 6 months later, it did. I still talk to that boy, and he still holds a special place in my heart, but obviously our plans to marry and honeymoon in Disney World did not come to fruition.

Anyway, thinking about that, it made me wonder, when exactly do we stop feeling that way? By the time most of us are in our early 20s--and sometimes even in our mid to late teens--we've become jaded about love. Love isn't something you always jump into head over heels. A lot of us become more cautious, second-guessing intentions. In this world I guess it's necessary. There are a lot of people out there who aren't who they say they are, or who have shady intentions. But when exactly do we lose that starry-eyed wonder and innocence that we all (or most of us, at least) have as children. When do we get to the point where we question people who say they love us? Why do we ever have to lose that? Sure, hearts get broken, and sometimes when we pick up the pieces they don't all fit back together the way they did before. And that probably has a lot to do with adult views on love. But the older I get, and the more I talk to my friends, the more I wish for the simplicity of love and friendship that existed back in my early teen years. No, those aren't the easiest years for most people, and they're not always the fondest to look back on when you're older. But at the same time, things were much simpler then, and when someone told us they loved us...I think most of us sure as hell believed them, and that thought had us walking on air and feeling all giddy inside.

"If this is where we ended up then I refuse to be so hard on myself this time"

I've been thinking a lot lately about relationships. I have been in a relationship with the same person for just over 3 years now. We've been through a hell of a lot together and it hasn't always been easy, but we're happy. Things are comfortable, and we're comfortable with each other and overall life is good. I really can't complain.

I've never dated much. I can count on less than one hand the number of serious boyfriends I have had over the years. But at the same time, I think I am rare in that, after the relationship has ended, I have kept friendships with my exes. That didn't happen right away, of course. There's always that awkward, post-breakup situation, where you don't know what to say to each other and realize there really isn't anything that you can or should say anyway. But after time passed, I was able to stay good friends with them. Now, time has passed, and the men that were important in my life are in serious relationships with other people, just like I am. And even though my relationships with those men are in the past, I can't keep myself from wondering "What would my life be like if I stayed with him instead."

Don't get me wrong...I am completely happy in the relationship that I am in. I just can't help but wonder how my life would be different if I had taken a different path. Thinking about it, if certain things had happened just a little bit differently, or at slightly different times in my life I might have taken completely different turns. If I hadn't been dating one person at one point, there is a very good chance I would have started dating someone else. If I hadn't met Patrick when I did, would I have pursued someone else instead? Ended up with an ex? Been single for a longer while and then found someone completely different?

I look at pictures of my exes with their new girlfriends and wonder what their lives are like. I hope they're happy together, that the girls treat the guys they way they deserve to be treated. And I know this is probably a very rare thought process for anyone to have about an ex. I know my boyfriend has completely cut off contact with all his exes--it would be unheard of for him to keep in touch with them. So maybe I am crazy--and it's not like I talk to them all the time or anything like that--but it just seems better to have those people still in my life than to cut them out of it. After all, they knew me at different times. They knew different parts of me, and saw me at different points of my life and they'll always be important because of that.

I realize this post is most likely all over the place. I should really write something more meaningful and coherent. I promise one of these days that will happen...I just felt like I needed to put some of my thoughts into print :)

Writing to Reach You

Writing is easy. It's typing some words on a computer, or writing them down in a notebook. Thinking of something worthy of writing about is a MUCH harder task.

I think I'm a decent writer. I've always liked to write. I remember sitting at home during the holidays one winter when I was little, writing story after story after story. I'm sure going back and reading those stories now would just embarrass me--I know one involved a talking Turkey that didn't want to be eaten for Thanksgiving. But the point is, the child me seemed to have endless ideas to write about. Whether they were worthy of writing about is irrelevant...the ideas were there, and I wrote. And I was proud of anything that I finished, running to my parents to read the latest and greatest short story.

Now, writing seems much harder. Thanks to Patrick's sister starting an online magazine recently, I've started writing and editing again. Which was great, because after graduating and then going on to do NOTHING with my major for the time being, it felt incredible to have a reason to write again. I had an excuse to put my fingers to the keys and type away, even if it was something as simple as a movie or book review.

Writing for the magazine stirred the desire to write that was inside of me again. I found myself wanting to write, and I even had a few decent ideas. I started blogging a little bit on MySpace, which I was usually too afraid to do. I even had a couple flashes of inspiration that ended up becoming short stories. I started to feel good about my writing again, thinking maybe I could actually do something with it. And then self-doubt began to set in. I've considered writing a novel a few times, but I hit a road block every time. I just don't know if I have any ideas that are good enough, or that I can expand upon enough to actually write an entire novel about. The one idea I did have I began to doubt the more and more I think about it.

I was rearranging the books on my bookshelf today, and as I looked at the titles of all the books I've read and loved I thought about how much writing can mean to someone. The books I've read have all touched me in some way, changing the way I view the world or myself. I think part of what is discouraging is that I don't know if I can write something that feels as meaningful or important as some of the things I've read. I'm a perfectionist--I want what I write to be really good and worth reading. And if I don't think it will be, I don't bother. That's probably the first hurdle I need to overcome. Just writing to write, and worrying about what comes out of it later.

I wish I could bring some aspects of school to my home life. I need someone telling me "You need to write 5 pages by Tuesday." I work great under pressure, and it seems like without someone forcing me to get things done I tend to put them off or not do them at all. A procrastinating attitude really doesn't get you far when there are no deadlines.

And with my rant full of self-doubt and desire for inspiration to strike, I will end this first post and go back to reading another author's great writing :)