Of Electricity and Horrid Mature Answers

Power Outages...
I probably don't hate 'em as much as I should. It's only when they leave me without a light to read by before I go to bed that I start to feel the inconvenience. Or if I reallllly need to use the computer. Being without light can be a little disconcerting, though, especially in your grandma's house in rural North Carolina where there aren't even streetlights. Imagine not having streetlights. It seems very, very wrong, although it must save quite a lot of electricity.
As to the rest of my life, I had my first locking-my-self-out-of-the-house episode today. I went outside to spray paint one of Granny's many garden statues for her. She was out taking Jordan to be groomed (Now he looks like a freaking rat-- I hate it. When I look at him I don't see Jordan anymore.), and I didn't realize that the door was set so that it locked when you closed it. I was just wondering what I was going to do outside without my book, when my grandma pulled up, thank goodness. I suppose I could have just asked one of the neighbors for a key, but I hadn't quite gotten there yet.
After this episode, and when the power came back on, I checked my email and found a reply from S to my rejection. It was very mature, which made me feel worse. I wish he would have yelled at me, as much as you can yell over email.
Instead he said, "Yeah, sure, let's just be friends. When I said all that I didn't think I would get the answer I wanted, anyway."
It was the "When I said all that I didn't think I would get the answer I wanted, anyway" bit that really got me. I had to apologize again.
My last and final point is that I am just beginning to realize how wrong I feel without my laptop. I'm used to opening it before I go to bed and dashing out a few paragraphs on all my stories. I keep finding myself thinking about them, but I can't remember where I left off. I guess I could write entirely separate scenes, farther along in the story than I really am. The trouble is that I'm not really sure where most of them are going. I know that's not the best way to write, but I'm much better at going with the flow than trying to force a storyline out. Oh well.

Resignedly,
Rosie L.

Of Fantasy Worlds and Antisocial Wedding Attendees

Good day, all! I am currently in merry old North Carolina visiting my family again. It's very... hot here. There really is no other way to describe it. I practically had a heat stroke just watering the flowers this morning. My mother is now a happily married woman (once again). The wedding was just a few days ago, and it was lovely. I could hardly keep from bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet when they were saying the I Do's. I was looking forward to seeing an old friend there, but he was rather antisocial. I tried a few times to strike up a conversation with him, but several one-syllable answers later I decided that he either didn't want to talk to me, or didn't want to talk to anyone. I don't know why he bothered coming, really. In any case, now that I'm in North Carolina again, I'm back to doing mindless chores for my grandmother (Most of which I really don't mind. I've always had a fondness for busywork) and wandering the streets every evening, walking the dog and looking for My Prince. I don't really expect to find him, but it's a pleasant fantasy world to live in. Plus, it gives me something to try for. A new and exciting adventure every time I walk the dog and so on.
You know, I've been wondering about fantasy worlds. I tend to live in one more often than not. Is that really healthy? I mean, it definately makes life more fun when it's getting monotonous, but will it give me an unrealistic view of the world. I certaintly hope not. I get disappointed enough as it is. Actually, possibly more than the average person. Maybe I already have an unrealistic view of the world. Maybe I build things up in my mind to be more exciting than they are. Actually, if I'm reading a really good book, I tend to get so engrossed in it that I'm really living for the book. I think about the characters almost all of the time. Dream about them, even. When I do this, though, I really start to get a bit depressed when I finish the book. I miss the characters. Sad, I know, but when you are deprived of social interaction with people your own age for a month or so, what else is there to do?
I would make an attempt to look at the world more realistically, but I can't be bothered. I like living in a fantasy world.

Dreamily,
Rosie L.

Of Princes and Red Clay

It all began yesterday evening, when I was walking my grandmother's dog. As I strolled the streets of small-town North Carolina, the red clay caking on my shoes and the 50-degree breeze chilling me through my sweater, I got to thinking. I realized, then and there, that I hadn't yet found My Prince. My Prince is The One. Everyone has a Prince (or a Princess). My Prince will have dark, floppy hair that curls up at the ends. He will be taller than me, and will wear button-down shirts and jeans, and Converses. He will be athletic, but not a jock. He will be artsy, or at least appreciate my artsiness, and he will be sweet. Most of all, he will love me no matter what, and he will NOT be a Republican. I don't care how much I can learn. Nu-uh. Not gonna happen. Anyway, as I tugged Jordan (the dog) away from people's yards, where he had his nose pressed to the vivid green grass, I looked at every house I passed, and I looked for My Prince. Needless to say, I didn't find him, but I will keep looking for ever and ever. Maybe J is My Prince, and I really should call him. Maybe not. All I know is, I WILL find him eventually. I will keep looking forever, and I will make mistakes, but in the end, he'll show up. For now, I need to go sand some furniture.

Determinedly,
Rosie L.