"A fingers touch upon my lips..."

Yesterday was the most pleasantly splendid days I have had in a very long time.

It was actually a dreary, cloudy day and I saw fit for it to be a reading day. The whole day I lounged around with no interruptions. TV off, cats quietly at my feet, head rested against the softest pillow I could find, with a book in my hand. It wasn't until at least 6:30 when I decided to leave the safe haven of my bed and head into the general public. I wonder why everyday cannot be like yesterday.

Today is not as gloomy, the sun is shining and the wind is blowing. I have deemed it dress day. I don't wear dresses often, but today I put on my light green sun dress and have spent most of my day writing my usual fairy tale stories.

Yesterday as I lay and read another one of my guilty pleasure escape literature, I pondered the idea of fairy tales.

Is there like some point in our lives when we are suppose to grow out of the idea of fairy tales and true love?

When we realize that Prince Charming snores loudly in his sleep or leaves the toilet seat up, or that The sweet and vulnerable heroine of the fairy tale nags at Prince Charmings small faults and is more high maitanence than he expected?

I didn't even start reading fairy tales until later on in my teens, and up until that point I didn't believe in soulmates and love. I was a pretty realistic kid. At that time I did not believe in THE ONE I simply was a very forward girl to the boys I had crushes on. I didn't understand why girls went all crazy over one guy. While they were kissing posters of Devon Sawa, I had a picture of George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg.

And even though I still question the idea of soulmates and am conscious that I live in a unrealistic world of fairy tales dreams and happily ever afters, there is this small glimmer of optimism, which is actually a huge shining light, that those great and exaggerated ideals of romance and still possible.

I'm frighten though that by holding on to that "ideal" I will and have only been disappointed by the reality of life. and people. I feel that by naively holding on to it, I am constantly extending my hand and heart to be damaged by life's hard reality.

For now, I liked to hold on to that ideal though. As childish and unrelenting as it may be. Because maybe love and those fairy tale ideals are like days like yesterday. Sure they don't come often and we wish they could be everyday. But what makes them special is they are so small and few they are cherished even more when it creeps up on us.

But then again maybe I have no idea what I am talking about. I get so frustrated with myself that I am so gullible to those sort of ideas. I like to seal myself from them, so I can't get hurt by the pedestal I have put it on...but then again if it's anything like describe in the tales than I am almost willing to suffer through the disappoint for more days like yesterday and that small glimmer of hope that whatever "it" is that makes love wonderful will happen to me.

I am be such a chick sometimes. Jeez.

I have to watch Mission Impossible on Sunday. My mom has to be one of the few people who still like Tom Cruise. Once he said "exercise and eating the right food will cure depression" or however he phrased it, I was pretty much done with him and Katie Holmes.

I was suppose to start writing my script on Monday, but reading has alluded me from that. I finished one cheesy book and am moving on to another before I start reading As I lay dying. Oprah has corrupted the world, by stamping her stupid label on every book she decides the public should read. I searched high and low for the only copy without "if Oprah read it you should too" label.

Tomorrow I will venture from the safety of this bed. For right now though it is very pleasant, and serene, minus the smell of my brother burning another oven pizza making it's way into my room.