the [little] men of my life

This is the new me to subsume the old, am starting to rethink things…when then you were so steadfast in your claim that you don’t want children and can never be a good mother, now, at the sight of an officemate’s 2-year old daughter, or simply catching Liam Aiken’s eyes [oh how he’s grown into a wee lad–i know not what that implies but the phrase expounds a sigh] or Freddie Highmore’s charming nose (and teeth), a certain air of panic gets to you. Carpe Diem isn’t exactly the platform of this life. I wish it were, but we all know that if it were, it’ll be liberty at the expense of family and work and those two are almost equal parts of my lifeline. Twenty-three, with neither a taste nor glimpse of a casual relationship with men… though I do not see that as a disability. I am one, not half of two. I am steadfast [Inspired by E.L. Doctorow]. In truth, I feel as if I’ve known a lot of them and deciphered a pattern & am no longer interested in a marriage of selves. The problem is, there are very few men who profess their “infatuation”–give or take one man every decade. [I’m 23 and there’s only been 3, one was a not so concrete proposal] & those few men have questionnable morals. Moreover, the men who after a few conversations, I find our minds (& perhaps hearts) to be compatible are already committed. On how many posts have I gone into such gibberish? Dear imagined reader, forgive me…

I’ve had my serving of Agatha Christie and am quite infected with the Brits’ form of speech/writing…& therefore I am bent on flicks written in an elegant voice & set in Europe; as with Casanova, etc. and my latest discovery, Perfume or Das Parfum.

To add to my desired essential homo sapiens:
 

Ben Whishaw - a mix of J. Hartnett & J. Franco, who, disturbingly, has a striking semblance with young Freddie Highmore…here [Whishaw] donning a Bob Dylan from the film I’m Not There [On my must-see list, stars Ledger, Bale, Blanchett, etc]
  

  
–end of fantasy–