The Inbetweeners

 So I have a dirty little secret; I read Harlequinn Romance novels.  It started when I was 16 and, literally, stumbled upon them in the supermarket. 10 years later, I can hardly say that I stumble upon them anymore. I actively seek them out, looking for a variety of romance novels with different protagonists, inciting incidents (beyond the usual Pregnancy, forced Marriage Contract, Arranged Marriage as part of a Business Merger or classic Revenge), and premises. My favourite, so far, has been After the Billionaire's Wedding Vows by Lucy Monroe where Monroe explores what happens after love, marriage and the baby carriage. But I always wondered why I was drawn to these kinds of novels. Is it because the storytelling is formulaic; hitting the same narrative beats every time? This consistency is why I like, and obsessively rewatch, sitcoms. The formulaic structure of a sitcom allows me to dip in and out of the story while still knowing what's going on overall. Likewise, the formu...

In an attempt to justify, and perhaps excuse, the next 24 hours of non-productivity, I have decided to write a post. Almost in a stream-of-consciousness way. But instead of examining why I feel the need to earn relaxation, today I'm not entirely sure what I want to talk about. I could talk about pride, and how it holds us back. Pride makes us unwilling to ask for help, or admit mistakes. But, I don't want to.  I could talk about how we are the enemies of our own progress.  At some point in the last couple of days, I realised I am not the child I was. As a child, I was fearless. Not because I didn't understand failure, or hurt or pain. But because I decided life was worth living in spite of them. Yet, at some point, I lost this understanding of life and became a coward. At some point, I let someone tell me that life isn't worth the pain. Or perhaps that pain isn't worth life. And the result is present-day me: a woman who will never have it all because she is too ter...