Reality is the only thing, well, real. I'm sure philosophers would love to argue me on this point, but for the sake of this argument, reality equals real. So how cruel is it that our minds are wired to fall in love with fantasies?
I would say at least 80% of my day is spent day dreaming or mulling over thoughts or coming up with various social scenarios that would improve my life. None of this is substantial. People will almost always react at least some what differently than you expect, but I almost always plan out exactly what I'm going to say to someone before I say it. But of course, this just scratches the surface of the fantastical capabilities of the mind.
I love True Blood. I would love to say I'm the girl who shuns such nonsense, but it would be a big old lie. I comfort myself with the fact that at least I don't like Twilight. But True Blood? True Blood has me weak in the knees for vampires. When I watch True Blood, my strong, independent, I like having a man around but I certainly don't need a man, attitude melts and suddenly all I want to do is move to Louisiana, work at Merlotte's and meet the most Southern of Southern gentlemen, a vampire.
This is not healthy. The thing is, I love my current reality. I live in a great city, I have a good job, I'm writing, doing theatre, and taking pictures. I have an amazing boyfriend who loves me and I love him more than anything! And more than that, I wouldn't trade my current life for this parallel universe of vampires. So is it totally unhealthy? Maybe not? I hope not. Maybe we all need a bit of absurd fantasy in our lives to get us through real life's banalities.
At least I don't like Twilight.
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