"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  We have all heard the debate, whether or not Harry Potter was based on some sort of biblical truth…And there are some, even me, who (in the beginning) would have said, “You can find Christ in anything.”   But now, I have realized that, in reading and fully comprehending “Harry Potter” that it would be impossible not to find Christ in these books. It would almost, notice I emphasize “almost” be to say that it is as obvious as finding Christ in the Bible. But I shan’t go that far.   We, who understand magic, fairy tales, and the mystery of life, would not even contend with placing The Lord of the Rings or The Chronicles of Narnia on the side of evil, or “Satan” (if you will) We full believe, that Christ is present.   So, why is it so hard to imagine Harry Potter as nothing more than a beautiful story of Christ. Some would argue that since magic wands, broomsticks, thestrals, and magical charms are nothing more than Satan working through the minds of young adults to bring them closer

"Are you happy being my girlfriend?" He asks. In all seriousness. In all honesty. He asks. Never once have I been asked such a damned difficult question. Never once have I been asked that slight simple question. Never once have I been asked THAT question.   Immediately, my head goes a thousand different directions. I want to give him the most honest answer. But lately I feel as though I am trying to quantity my happiness. Yes. I. Am. Happy. But what is happiness? Am I? Can I honestly say that I am happy? I don't know.   Before I make an ass out of myself, I must say this: not one time in the history of Aly and men has she ever felt like her significant other was shelter. You know that line from Finding Nemo where Dory says to Marlin, "When I look at you, I remember. When I look at you, I am home." That's the way I feel when I am in his arms. Home. Perhaps it best not to tell him such a bold thought, but it's true.   Back to this question. Am I happy b

  When we try to live our lives, we have one opinion that matters, our own. We have two things to keep in mind: our happiness and our own responsibility. Nothing else truly matters. Nobody else's opinion really matters. We have the option of respecting and responding to other's opinion of ourselves, but we don't have to.   That's what I am coming to realize. If you want to live my life, then please make a difference in it. If you want to live my life, then support it. If you want to live my life, then take control. But, if you don't do any of those things then please realize that your opinion is just that: an opinion.   This really does make me sound like a selfish, uncaring human being. It does. I can see that. But, I do believe, in my heart, that is farther from the truth. What I mean to say is this...what does it matter? My actions? My heart? My body? Mt soul? What matters to you? Do you wish me not to be in pain?   Andy and I had this solidified idea: those w

 In the movie "Ever After," there is a line that is quoted by the main character to the prince: "First, you make thieves and then punish them." Isn't that exactly what America is doing to other Americans? First, we make people fat and then we shame them.   Now, I do understand, as a big girl who has never been thin, that fatness comes with a certain degree of personal responsibility. I get that. Truly. However, in the grand idea that it is easier to eat fatty foods that are highly addicting than it is to eat healthy, we are constantly battling what we know to be true and what society tells us. The idea that it is better for our longevity to eat better and healthier, but that we should love ourselves where we are and no one should say otherwise.   A few years back I learned of the term: fat shaming. It is something that has taken the world by storm. I know what it is, but just to be sure, I read up a little. Some say it is a term coined by overweight people

  All of us have body parts that we are physically attracted to. Some like boobs, some like eyes, some like butts, some like lips. For me, it is hands. I love hands. You know those veins on the back of one's hands? Yeah, the ones that pulse when a hand is flexed...I love those. Those drive me crazy! Know what else I like? Forearms. I love a man's forearm, and the stronger it is, the more I like them.   Those two things have always been something I notice immediately when I see a man. I can remember the hands of the guys I have been with. So much so, that there is a specific commercial that reminds me of an ex's hands.   But, you should see his hands...white boy's hands. Grrr... When we sit next to each other I can't help but touch them. They are hands that have built and worked and struggled to make a life for himself. And he has succeeded.   Sometimes, I wonder if I like hands in general, or I like what I know is behind their story. I tend to be less attracted t

  Not that many people know, but for the last year and a half I have been working on a fan fiction story.   My fandom: Harry Potter (surprised? ;-)   My ship: Dramione   The intro... "I want you to show me every twisted, frightened thought you’ve ever had. I want your eyes to crack my bones; I want your words to tear my skin apart." Redemption of Malfoy Chapter 1 At what moment do we gain our redemption? Is it the moment we are forgiven for our sins? Or perhaps it is the moment we forgive ourselves. Hermione remembers, when she was 6, her parents had her baptized and the clergyman kept talking about redemption. At the time, it seemed like such a foreign concept to her: words like sin, penance, atonement meant little to her, and when she was dunked under the water she remembers feeling no cosmic difference or internal change. So, she doesn’t think that was the moment. ****** Another guttural growl slams Hermione back into reality and it comes from the blonde n

  Had I written this 2 days ago, I would have completed one full year of blogging. Granted, I have only written 176 blogs and published 164. So, unfortunately, I didn't complete what I set out to do: a blog a day. But, let's pretend that today is July 10th, 2015...2 days ago. What has changed?   One year ago: I sat in a nice hotel, alone, waiting on the pizza I ordered 45 minutes prior, drinking a bottle of wine, trying to make up my mind on a title for my blog. I had recently set out on a month long trip to see friends and family with a heart that was trying to mend, still finding itself in love with the man who told me he loved me but couldn't...   Tonight: I stood amongst my closest friends, enjoying laughter of intimacy knowing that all I wanted for my 30th birthday was all of us together. That simple. And, I got it. My heart, full of joy, was overwhelmed and mended.   These two nights are so completely different but a true reflection of my last year. I have made new