Twilight + Donald Miller = ??

This winter break it has appeared that I haven't been involved in much. The reality of the situation though, is that I've read many books and spent a lot of time deep in thought.

After the last six months of 2009, I've learned a lot about attitude and character. After all the experiences I've been mostly forced to endure, I've finally had the chance to reflect on all of it.

It really hasn't been much of a secret that I was dying to find something that wasn't "intellectual" to read after finals in December. Against all my anti-Twlight notions, I still found myself with the books in hand. I read the entire series in less than a week. There are so many arguments about what makes Twilight an excellent- or in other cases, terrible- read. But I don't want to mention Twilight for the sake of Twilight. Which, I am team Edward if you must know.

I mentioned Twilight because the first thing that I've been asked by others who find out about my recent addiction is this immediate, disbelieving and almost chastizing response: "What is it about those books that is so good? I don't get it!"

Aside from everything I could say, I will only mention one aspect.

I got sucked in, no pun intended, to the Twilight series because of the ambiance of the read. Something about being deep in Forks, admist the woods and the constant rain... the cozy small home in the woods... the clumziness of Bella.. the way her window slides open and the shadows dance across the floor of her room... how Edward's eyes turn from a hungry desparate black to a flickering aweinspiring gold.... All these details add up to this coziness that I simply couldn't get enough of.

Don't tell me you can't relate.

Every Christmas, I wish for a cold and rainy Christmas eve. With lots of traffic and dreariness. Why? Because I'm a Floridian. And I figure this is the closest we can get to a white Christmas.

I had this boyfriend who was just the perfect womanizer in the end. I didn't realize I was a blip on his radar, because I was so enamored with how every detail seemed to fall perfectly in line. He was just so... good.. at what he did. Without realizing it, I memorized the way he smelled, the way his eyes danced in the streetlights right before he kissed me goodnight... the way his breath always tasted like a peppermint mocha at the end of every date because inevitably we always had to make a stop by starbucks.

Sometimes life gets too loud. I don't want to hear anything. Not even a text message buzzing in. I'll come home and light two candles. Always the same candles. One is a mulled apple cider and the other a hazelnut cream. I've gone through so many candles, and ironically, I've ended up with my favorite being the walmart brand. I'll stop by the store on the way home and pick up a pack of cookie dough and milk. I always bake the cookies three quarters of the suggested time. It's not a good cookie unless it falls apart when you pick it up... unless the chocolate is gooey and stuck to my fingers. And the milk isn't worthy unless it's ice cold. Then, I get cozy. I draw the heavy curtains if there is any light streaming in. I find one of only a small hand full of movies. And I watch.

I don't watch movies over and over again. In fact there are only a small number of movies I re-watch. I do not watch them because they are good movies, necessarily. I watch them because of the way they make me feel. Because of the vibe they generate. Their ambiance. All of these small details are personal to me, of course. Clearly, a male of my age might be more into something with a tense and exciting atmosphere. Something with suspense and thrills. The point is, all of us crave certain fulfillments at certain times.

So, reading Twilight sent me crashing and clambering for more. I needed more of this feeling I got from Stephanie Meyers' writings. I've read a hand full of books. Right now, Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years in sitting next to me. I'm not even halfway through, but I was too inspired to sit still. I had to put some thoughts down before I lost track of them all. And now, here I sit, snuggled a foot deep in blankets on this below freezing night, perfectly fine with giving up a Saturday night to do some soul-searching.

Donald Miller made me realize the difference between yearning for more of a story in the form of something like Twilight and then fighting to make my life a decent story itself. I've heard this quote from time to time that goes something like this- I don't want to sleep because for once my reality is better than my dreams. This is exactly what Donald Miller seemed to struggle with when they decided to turn Blue Like Jazz into a movie. They needed to create a storyline to go with the book and he realized he's spent his time writing stories instead of living out a story. He made a good example in the beginning of his book... We wouldn't get wrapped up in the storyline of someone who spent an entire wanting and working to get a new car. We wouldn't cry at the end if they finally got the car. We are not inspired by movies like this, so how can we expect to be fulfilled with life stories that resemble something similar to this example storyline?

This entire concept has been just within my grasp for the last year. It hasn't been so precisely thought out, but I began to realize that the feelings I get watching my certain comfort movies are never enough. Of course, there are many Godly reasons why a movie isn't going to fulfill me, but that's for another day.

The bottom line is, it leaves the question hanging before me... if I want a story like THAT... then I have to live like THAT.

This means taking risks and chances and not going through the same dull routines. If I like a character in a movie who has certain cute routines- like lighting candles and taking bubble baths and having cozy personal evenings alone... then I should probably do something similar myself instead of trying to simulate the experience by just popping in a movie. You don't become a marathon runner by watching movies about runners. You do it by getting off the couch and becoming your own leading lady, your own hero, protagonist, star. You write your own story.
How existentialist of me, I know.

But then, Donald Miller also talks about the Writer in his head. A Writer I know very well. But that's another story for another day.