Love letters

I am in a very romantic mood.

I suppose that’s the only thing keeping me up at this late hour – these moods are pleasant and should be thoroughly enjoyed. 🙂

I’m at my parents’ house in Jacksonville, lying in what was my bedroom just a month and a half ago. My possessions are all gone now, but the rugged, romantic feel that I had hoped for when I selected my paint color (a rosey sort of brown) lingers still. As I lay here, the room is lit only by my computer screen (’cause that’s romantic – right) and a softly flickering candle on the bedside table. The guest bed is queen sized, which always feels more “grown up” than my dinky twin sized.

This is the sort of night – the sort of setting – where writing poetry and love letters seems only too appropriate. Granted, I don’t have anyone to write love letters for – at least, not anyone in my life right now. (He’s out there somewhere!) But when I get into this sort of dreamy mood, my imagination can run rampant.

It’s a safe bet that I’ll probably give myself the royal treatment when I get ready tomorrow. Who doesn’t like feeling their best? After all, Mr. Right could be just around the corner….

(…though, truth be told, I hope he’s in a different state. Florida? Not so much…)

Why is that libraries, though similar in purpose to bookstores, don’t possess the same romantic qualities?

Perhaps because of the lack of commitment required of a library book? Here, I walk in, pick up whatever strikes me as interesting, check it out, and that’s that. No money required, little thought is demanded, and if I don’t like it, I can just drop it off in the return bin tomorrow.

Bookstores, however, are quite different. Rarely am I able to pick a book off a shelf and leave within five minutes. No, bookstores demand a greater commitment. If I am going to spend an ungodly amount of money on a stack of bound paper, then I want to be sure that it’s worth my while. I’ll carefully read the back, perhaps look over the table of contents, maybe glance through the pages. I’ll carry the book around the store with me for a while as I look over the other options. Is this really the book that I want? Will I be proud to have it displayed on my shelf for years to come? Will I regret the time and money invested in it later?

Am I still talking about books? Or is this post really about men?

You be the judge.

I wanna feel that rush

I need honor and love in my life from somebody who’s playing for keeps