A Letter To The Universe

I’m currently reading Eat Pray Love and, call me an urban-single-woman cliche but, it is absolutely cathartic for me. 

I’m doggy-earring pages. 

I’m re-reading passages. 

I’m posting favorite quotes as Facebook statuses. [Most favorite: “You’ve gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughtta be.”]

[Honestly, if I wasn’t living it, I would be rolling my eyes at myself.]

Anyway, one of the stories that has really struck a chord with me is the section where she writes a petition to God, and her friend tells her that pretty much everyone in The Universe [living and deceased] has agreed to sign it. And just like that, she receives exactly what she has asked for. 

Just yesterday, a friend of mine was telling me that she asked The Universe VERY SPECIFICALLY for something she wanted. And the very next day, some unexpected things were set in motion to grant her exactly what she desired. 

This scenario, along with the Eat Pray Love anecdote and my own beliefs in The Secret and the power of positive thought have inspired me. I’m going to write my own, very specific letter to the universe. 

I feel like I’ve done a great deal of work on myself this year [some very publicly right on this here blog (!), and some more privately on my own and in therapy]. I think I’m ready for what is next to come. I definitely wasn’t before. So I’m going to spend this weekend crafting my letter. I’m going to keep it to myself, but it will be about the usual suspects: love, career, dreams. 

Also, if you were rolling your eyes the entire time that you read this, I get it. Don’t worry, our regularly scheduled snark will be back in full force in no time. 

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Are You My Boyfriend: Gilbert Blythe

ImageGil: It’ll be three years before I finish medical school. Even then there won’t be any diamond sunbursts or marble halls.

Anne: I don’t want diamond sunbursts or marble halls. I just want you.

I mean. Honestly!

I am quite certain that the Anne Shirley/Gilbert Blythe courtship (along with a handful of other things, Dirty Dancing being one of the gravest offenders) ruined me at a very young age for all love. Obviously the truest romance naturally occurs after you float down a river in a leaky canoe reciting The Lady of Shalott, a cute boy pulls your hair and nicknames you “Carrots”, you dance away an enchanting evening in a gorgeous baby blue dress with puffed sleeves, you meet kindred spirits, and eventually you and that cute boy marry.

It’s just perfect. Pass the raspberry cordial.