The Romantics

I have realized I am more of a romantic than I previously thought. And there is only one thing to blame.

Hollywood.

So thought it would be fun (for me, and maybe you too) to compile a list of the top five offenders.

5. Circle of Friends - I guess I have a soft spot for the underdog getting the boy. I also have a soft spot for Ireland, and when Chris O'Donnell puts on that faux Irish accent, I'm mush.

4. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen spoke to my soul with her story of two sisters not unlike my sister and I. Erin, being Elinor, full of sense. And me, Marianne, slightly more emotional. Sure, Marianne didn't end up with the charismatic Willoughby, but Colonel Brandon was no slouch either.

3. Meet Me in St. Louis - If only John Truitt was my next door neighbor. The Trolley Song says it all. Nothing beats the moment when you see the person you've been waiting for. And I certainly can relate to not beating around the bush to be noticed. No one has ever accused me of being subtle.

2. Bridget Jones's Diary - Any who knows me knows that Bridget is my hero and like her wouldn't mind someone to like me "just as I am." And like her, preferably it would be Colin Firth.

1. When Harry Met Sally - I'm not too proud to admit there has been more than one New Year's Eve where I've watched this movie. "... when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Definition

I am lacking definition.

My body is certainly lacking definition.

Not to mention my love life.

My career? No thank you.

Sometimes this gets me down. But then I remember there is Someone who defines me and I feel a lot better.

Oh my poor neglected little blog...

I hate to say this, but sometimes I have to remind myself, "Hey, Megan," I begin, "remember you love to write. So why don't you do it?"

"I know, I know," I respond to myself. "But what should I write about?"

"You'll think of something," I say.

"But what if it's terrible?"

"But what if it's not? What if it's something truly great and funny and will earn you acclaim and millions of dollars?"

"You're right! I better get to work!"

And then I proceed to stare at my computer for the next three hours, hammer out a few pages and call it a day. And then never work on that particular piece again. (I'm really glad the characters I create aren't real people because it would be like creating a head without finishing the body. I'd have all these bodiless people rolling around and who would really hate me.)

This process is repeated about every few months, and, as you can tell with the sparsity of my blogs as late, now is the time to start all over again. I'd like to say I'm back by popular demand, but really only two people have asked me about my lack of blogging.

I've been thinking as a writer, I'm a bit guarded. There are some things I'd like to write about in this blog, but then I realize, people will then know that about me. That I'm a person with thoughts and feelings?! The horror!

I know should make myself more vulnerable and will make that happen. However, expect it to be a slow and painful process.

Very slow, because this is all you're getting out of me for now.

Goggles and profound thoughts

While at the lake last week, I was savoring the hot day and the cool water. I swam a few laps, read a book, and thought about writing this blog.

There weren't a lot of people at the lake. But there was a large family. (Not large in size, large in number.) Among them were two little girls, who I'm pretty sure were sisters.

Well, one sister was using a pair of goggles and the other was not so patiently waiting to use them.

Their mom told Sister One she had five more minutes. And instead of using those five minutes, she was just begging for more time.

"Mommy! Twenty more minutes! Ten more minutes!"

All to no avail. And while Sister Two nagged her and laughed at her, she just cried and pouted, instead of using her precious five minutes.

I realized then that I must be getting older or more like my mother, because I thought, "You're wasting your time. Just enjoy them while you can."

And then a more profound thought hit me.

How many people in life are always asking for more, and while doing that, are wasting the time they have with what's right in front of them?

More money, more time, more stuff, some things are just never enough.

I decided right then to make a conscious effort to make the best of whatever situation I'm in.

Because when time's up, I don't want to be wishing for those five minutes with the goggles.

Drive thru

I have my best ideas when I'm in my car.

There's just something about being behind the wheel, the scenery whipping past, that just ignites my imagination.

In my car, I'm a rockstar singing my heart out to an adoring audience. In my car, I'm an explorer headed for my next adventure. In my car, I've written best-selling novels and award-winning screenplays. In my car, I'm a philosopher having serious discussions with God.

I've really come to cherish the time I spend in my car. Maybe because it's the one place I can go to be alone.

Alone time is important. Because who else wants to hear me sing at the top of my lungs?

There is an 'I' in Italy

It seems that the rain is gone and summer is nearly upon us.

With that comes the excitement of swimming, a suntan and flip flops. And the best part of all...

Vacation.

Thanks to Uncle Sam I have some money to invest in a nice, but modest, trip. At first I was debating between saving that money, but then the world called and invited me to visit again.

Visiting the U.K. again is definitely high on my list. But for some reason, I feel that somewhere a little more south is beckoning.

It all began with the book "Eat, Pray, Love." I checked out the audio book when I drove down to L.A. a few weeks ago. The author spent three months in Italy; eating the food, drinking the wine, meeting the people. Those are three things I like to do!

Italy called again last Saturday. "Under the Tuscan Sun" was on television and once more the idea of basking in the Italian sun stirred in me. Just a few hours later, I had Italian food for dinner, which sealed the deal.

I want to go to Italy. More than that, I think Italy wants me to go to Italy.

How can I refuse?

Gym vs. Jim

"I have a gym membership."

I can say this because I pay $69 a month so that I can, thus giving off the impression that I go to the gym.

And I do. Sometimes. Not as often as I should. My gym bag is always packed and ready in the back of my car so that if at any moment I feel inspired, there's nothing to stop me.

This last week, however, I did not feel inspired, not even once. My bag sat in the back seat and every day after work I easily convinced myself I had something more important to do, like to go Starbucks or find a Halloween costume.

There's a mug on my desk at work that reads, "I (heart) Jim." Inside the red heart is a picture of Jim from "The Office" aka John Krasinski. It was a gift from Catherine who bought it from Target for a dollar. It's the greatest mug ever.

Imagine if that mug read "I (heart) Gym." I wouldn't be able to use it because it would be a lie. I do not (heart) the gym. When I do go, I'm happy that I did, the endorphins kick in and I feel accomplished. It's just the process of getting there that's the problem.

And then it hit me...

If Jim were at the gym, they couldn't keep me from that place.