To my parents on their twentieth anniversary ♡

With an approaching wedding on the horizon the topic of marriage has become a popular discussion in our household. I obliviously assume that marriage is all puffy ballgowns, white lace and an ascending trail of flowery bride’s maids. Exquisite cuisine and a guest list,  mostly consisting of people you’ve never met who lack the decency to pronounce your name correctly. As I’m every day learning, my perceptions are shattered by revealing reality. Marriage  is not a photoshop-perfect photograph of rows of glittering teeth representing the merging of two families. 

I browse through the pages of bridal magazines envisioning the day when I walk down the aisle. Since I was a little girl I’ve visualized the theme colours of my wedding reception-but, what then? For us ordinary citizens of the journey of life, there are copious volumes after “You may now kiss the bride”. Unaware and naive as I was, I didn’t realize that marriage isn’t riding into the sunset on a whispy white carriage in central park. The road gets rocky with jittery bumps on the way but if my parents’ marriage has taught me anything it’s that the view is worth every obstacle along the voyage.

Daddy…
They say a girl looks for the qualities of her father in any potential interest. This is probably why I have almost unattainable standards. You’ve left a remarkable legacy,  your character and personality is unparalleled. I am yet to find a man who possesses even a fraction of your traits . I have never met a more selfless and noble father, you’ve given your four daughters the galaxy and continuously add stars to our constellations.

Mummy…
I often joke, in horror, at the possibility of turning into you. Truthfully there isn’t anyone more worthy of  emulation. You serve as an ideal example of a mother, wife, daughter and friend. Your benevolence knows no bounds and your humility is honorable. Just as I would be lucky to find a partner as unprecedented as Daddy, I would have reached the peak of ethereal grace if I could accomplish the challenge of becoming a woman as wonderous as you.

I hope nothing but the absolute best for you both and twenty plus more years of inspired splendor.  I hope, in due time, I will have a relationship as real and riveting as yours.

My darling parents I am so grateful to and for you for all that you’ve done and more importantly for all that you are.

Your daughter
_Quixotic Novelist

Man behind the mask

I’ve been fortunate enough to have the pleasure of knowing a rare and unique soul. He’s benevolently afforded me the opportunity to tell his take on my blog. Before I begin I’m allotting his description from my line of sight.We met briefly through a mutual acquaintance. If first impressions last then his left an eternal imprint on my memory. There I stood, drab and desiccant, when, as though descending a divine staircase the most beautiful boy I had ever seen, materialized before my eyes. Starting at the top of his head, a lush crop of coffee brown hair laced with golden vanilla ribbon. His skin a flawless radiant tan pulling upward at the corners of his mouth. This grand smile encasing two rows of gleaming sparkle. A jawline so defined it would put Paul Wesley’s to shame. Furthermore his lean, toned, build hinted hours of brutal workout. An intoxicating concoction of extravagant fragrance sent the logic in me swirling. The authentic and up to date attire suggested a fashion sense fresh off the runway, combined with expensive taste. I could tell we’d get along- that is until he opened his mouth an polluted the air with a hubristic remark, “Like the view?” That was all I needed to slam EGOTISTICAL NARCISST across his forehead. We’ve been friends ever since.

We’re well aware of the jungle that is high school. Home to the deadliest and barbarically notorious beasts. So the aforementioned gift to mankind is one of those revoltingly privileged people who possess the complete package: looks, intellect, fitness, wealth, personality. Of course he sorely lacked modesty but as Jace Herondale famously stated “The meek may inherit the earth but for the moment it belongs to the conceited, like me.” Unfortunately this wasn’t the case for my friend.He had become a victim of bullying. Taunts and teasing followed him like the plague. It escalated to the point where attending school-a basic right of every child-felt like the death sentence. Not only was he surrounded and suffocated by their presence during education hours but social media meant that his purgatory continued.

Why?Why would a guy who obviously has everything going have to endure such treatment. I wish there was a valid justification, because dressing well or having a set sense of style, endowed with physical attractiveness and being bold enough to show sensitivity makes someone “gay” or “a fag”. Pray tell, in which dictionary or liable source beside the vacant vessel that is your brain does is it acceptable to make another human being feel inferior.

As a happy ending he is excelling at his new school. Achieving mountainous heights in a academic, leadership, sports and cultural faculties.

The realization of this story is that contrary to popular belief, pretty people do not have it easier. Though their exterior may suggest a polished and glazed life, everyone faces a struggle. See I have discovered that the man behind the mask is even more gorgeous and gentle than I’d ever thought he could be.

_Quixotic Novelist

Heed the caution or head for calamity?

The worst thing that can happen during the journey of your relationship with another is hearing or witnessing something catastrophic enough to taint your perspective of them.

I recently met someone who I became instantly fascinated and taken with. I suppose I did put him on a pedestal but that was due to the manner in which he displayed his disposition. Naturally I painted a very rosy picture of him when relating him to others and they recieved the theory of him with as much wonderment as I had coveyed him. On one such conversation my description was met with an unexpected reaction. The exact opposite of my opinion. I felt somewhat deflated.  As though this angel I adored had suddenly grown a ghastly set of horns.

To be honest I’m unsure of how to respond with the information I have gained. I’m not the type of person to allow the experience that others have had with a specific individual to affect the way I treat them but I can’t deny that a part of me has begun to question his credibility.  Should I base my judgement on my endeavor with him or should I derive some caution from what was said about him?

I must ask then, is it fair to invent this idea of who someone is in your own head? Is it awfully bias and subjective?  Then again is it justified because let’s face it,  it is human nature to conceive your own view on a person. Is this another one of those dilemmas that fall under the ‘Ce la vie’ sector?

_Quixotic Novelist

Tug of war

“A friend to all is a friend to none”-Aristotle

I have always strived toward being the person that’s on amicable terms with everyone.  The one who smiles and greets every person she passes because there exists an affable relationship between them. I’ve tried to attain that and to some extent I’ve been successful.  However In theory this is an ideal scenario but as with all cases theory is highly impractical. 

Disaster and displeasure are the notes upon which our society function.  We demand scenes of chaos, because “happily ever afters” are why we go to the movies. Life just doesn’t allow for a utopia .

Being the only mutual factor between two friendships who publically dislike one another is very dangerous. I’m gettig whiplash swinging back and forth trying unremittingly to please everyone.  It’s a lonely place to be… It is physically impossible to satisfy everyone without causig detriment to oneself. Sooner or later the trigger will be pulled and you’re left on a warzone. Colateroal damage. What results unfortunately is the blowing to smithereens of not one but several relationships.

I feel like a wild American ravishing lavishly in the roaring twenties. Parties at Gatsby with friend #1, strolls down Madison Square with friend #2. Despite the entertainment of the era I feel so anxious because the inevitability of a Great Depression looms. I’d be foolhardy to ignore the caveat. When will my “Wall Street” crash?

This tug-of-war will come to a termination and if I continue playing “man in the middle” I will be the helpless rope that is torn to shreds.