what do i want? if i started writing what i want and what i’m dreaming of, i think the first reaction of anyone who will read it will be laughing, i’m 99,9% sure this will happen. Do i dare to voice my deepest thoughts and dreams? NO,but i’ll write them down maybe someday in the future ,when i’m wiser, i’ll read them and laugh too. So here it goes:
like any girl i always dreamed of the perfect man -as a husband of course- my perfect man would come from a far away lands,has no knowledge of my traditions and social life or my language but of course share the same beliefs that i was raised to believe in. love should be there (not the fiction books kind of love), And he should be an athlete -not a jock- maintaining a healthy lifestyle.
Now that we covered the life partner we will need a home. it would be a log house in new zealand, Ireland, Scotland or the english countryside. My dream house is a small cabin in the mountains or a farm house with a red barn for a horse or two, a cow, a goat and some sheeps, and a beautiful dog to watch them. And a small piece of land to grow my own fruits and vegetables.
now that we settled in, i need a job. my dream job is to OWN a library and sit in it all day long ,reading as much as i can while spreading the knowledge to whoever loves reading like me. To go to that library from my secluded house i’ll need a car, a small truck would be great, i won’t be picky about the models it will be perfect as long as it takes me where i want to go.
these are my dreams,wishes, life goals, or what i need to call a life .
My dilemma is that i love reading stories. ever since i was a little girl this was the only hobby i could enjoy. growing up i realised that i wanted more than comic books and fairytales so i started looking for alternatives. i stumbled across a new kind of stories,not real literature but not bad stories, that was in the beginning of my teenage years, so i read what i could find of those but along with it i read the real genuine literature. so as i grew older i could tell the difference between a trashy story and a good novel or a play. now that the language barrier has vanished i still find myself reading the trashy stuff not knowing how bad they are but i stop reading when i realise my misjudgment. but sometimes i find a nice heartwarming story among the filth and that’s why I keep going back digging for a nice tale that would put a smile on my face and takes me away from my chaotic world.
terrifying is the thought that when you leave a place or someone thinking to yourself or saying out loud :”I’ll be right back”,and there is this huge possibility that you’re never will.
-living in farm house in the countryside .
-traveling by train.
-climbing a mountain & hiking in all sorts of wilderness .
-work in a library.
a uniform is not a definition of a man ,only a man can identify himself .
-Is it my luck or do i have the recurring coincidence syndrome???
Again just finished a story where the heroine loses her memory and literally closed my eyes to choose another one just to find the heroine loses her memory too,weird.
-My black rubber band which i had on my wrist for almost two years snapped off at the exact second when i reached the word “snap” in a book i was reading.
just finished a book and its heroine was from (Swary – England). The next book -which i picked randomly-the heroine was also from the same city.