Saturday, February 24, 2007
I'm a born meddler, I think.
Seeing as I have no qualms in poking into what's really none of my business...
Well. In matters of romance anyway.
I have read like a million books, I can safely be considered a (theoretical) expert!
And besides, I like happy endings. Even with a twist. Happy is happy....
But call it the unfulfilled novelist in my soul - I need to meddle.
And those two clearly need to talk (and I need the minutes for that meeting - I am not so deluded as to think I can do any specific good without near perfect information).
It sounds like they are made for each other! Well. Actually, he'll make himself whatever her other requires so that actually is true, so.
If this were my novel, there would be an elderly aunt giving sage advice, an uncle throwing them together through an inheritance, or a magic sorceror dude giving them a quest with dangerous tasks (that they will accomplish safely!) so they got a chance to talk and fix stuff up.
But alas - I am not a Goddess. Or a writer.
So. I shall continue giving my unwanted advice which noone bothers to listen to because hey, that's how it works. You do what you do if it mattered even if you know it won't because if you didn't, and admitted it doesn't , well, you'd get depressed.
Deflated balloons don't float.
Eve.