to flutter like firelight

"Yes, it's hard love, but it's love all the same. Not the stuff of fantasy but more then just a game, and the only kind of miracle that's worthy of the name, for the love that heals our lives is mostly hard love."--Bob Franke

I've always been a reader, from the time I first used to devour my dad's Reader's Digests to the current love of chick literature and the occasional deep read. For that reason, it is easy for me to take a break from whats considered my life's reality at the moment, and I can escape or take a trip into some place else entirely, be it a socialite's trips around manhattan, a divorcee's scheme to get back at her ex husband, a young wizard finding his way, and a love story set in World War 2 Russia. I dont necessarily want to be any of those people, nor do I want to exchange lives or anything of that sort. I do, however, appreciate the escapism it gives me, if even just a few minutes in a day.

I think my choice of reading material has become um, forgive me, stupider over the years. From thick high brow books to fluffy chick lit. But don't diss the chick lit. Theyre such comfort.

I have also always considered myself a writer. But writing, after I graduated from high school, seems to be relegated to my blogs scattered around the net. I hardly even jot anything down in my journals anymore, and with that said, it shows in my handwriting. Hahaha.

How am I, btw?

I have been alright. Im honestly savouring being with the parents, for at least a bit. I've lived away from them for the past 4 years, since I was 17, and Im treasuring a few months living with them again until I start work. Tho if I had it my way, I wouldnt work for a while. grr. :P

But in any case, Ive moved journals again. Yes.

Because Vox is evil and doesnt let me link my friends nor let me have a tag board. :(

So,let the writing, shall we say, begin.