Tuesday, Feb. 19, 2008

Good Morning! It's 2 am and I'm wide awake, must've been from all the sleep I'm getting or could be the other pole of manic depression: up and about and the lethargic over sleeping poles, or could've been induced by nicotine without caffeine. The last part is skewed, nicotine without caffeine will slow down the nervous system and calm the body, specially the nerves.

I am probably perked up by finishing a new chic lit which had a disappointing ending, I was expecting to finish the book with the heroine not getting the boy but tough luck, she always takes a new prince home in exchange of His Royal Jerkness of an ex.

When will I be able to read a chic lit that ends happily without a man in tow?

When you just got out of a relationship you wouldn't want to read of happy endings because it just makes you bitter and you've got enough pictures of fairy tales painted by friends and shoved up your ass to try make you feel better which actually makes you even more cynical and skeptical about fairy tales.
(Disclaimer: not from first hand and definitely NOT from recent experience.)

It just makes you say, "It doesn't happen in real life." ANd you just want to find a piece of literature that sympathizes with what you're feeling. But then that's what art is: to paint a picture of "the perfect," "the ideal," and "paradise." No wonder Plato scorned art as being six times removed from reality. These happy-ended stories are made to give hope to the unloved and self-doubting females that no matter what we do, or who we are, we will find our other half.

These chic lits have "women" written all over it. Women are walking contradictions and so much more, i.e. we tell each other how men can be such pigs but still eat pork and then complain that we're fat.

I guess that's why they didn't use 'woman' in the saying, "A gentleman's word."