a not so open secret

June 16, 2009

I’m considered to be rather smart.  I have a degree from UC Berkeley.  I can discuss fine art, ballet and modern dance, theater, classical and modern music, history, political and financial systems and I know how to properly set a dinner table.  I like Shakespeare and Philip K. Dick.  I thought Catch-22 was easy to follow and my favorite of Salinger’s 9 stories was “A Perfect Day for Bananafish”.  Oh – and I read romance novels.

Not Chick Lit… I tend to despise the novels that shoved into that category because they try vary hard to be both “Literature” and “Romance”.  Nope, I read Harlequin Romances.

I’ll wait while you catch your breathe from the endless laughter.

Life can be rough, and mean and disheartening.  I like that in 180 pages someone can find true love, suffer through an obstacle course called a plot and live happily ever after.  (I’m still kind of pissed at Sondheim for making me wonder what happens after ‘Happily Ever After’.)

So I read romance novels and feel better about everything.  Besides – if you get side tracked or the phone rings, a lot of times you can skip 5 or more pages and just pick right up where you left off.  Handy for those with a busy lifestyle.

So laugh.  But I must say, it makes me happy.  How many things that cost so little make YOU happy?



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