I found this picture on the internet the other day, and it got me thinking. I guess I am not the only one who tries to shield myself a little from reality. Of course, I know all the horrible things that go on in the world that I can't do anything about, but I try not to roll in them. For instance, you know how when you sign out of hotmail, there is that page of the most horrible stories from the internet, usually containing at least one awful thing some parent did to their child? I try to avoid reading that. As if hotmail service wasn't bad enough without making us read the terrible things people did to others, things that we can't erase. But I don't want to talk about that, because I don't want to make you sad. I want to talk about our perfect realities.
My reality involves sheltering my highly empathic feelings from too much bruising. Trying to indulge in the good rather than the bad, the positive rather than the negative! Although that can be hard in this world. This also includes not reading or watching Crime Fiction (or especially not True Crime) which makes me lose faith on humanity. Of course, I always have to make an exception for Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Murdoch!
I like to believe in a world where, although I know there is darkness, there is magic around every corner. Think of it like an uplifting Urban Fantasy story, like a story by Francesca Lia Block or Neil Gaiman.
Mine is a world of tea parties, of Steampunk events, of 80s postpunk music, as well as Steampunk and classical and opera, just because I can. It's mild spring mornings and pretty dresses. I know my world doesn't really exist, except when I create it myself. Which means I need to start having more tea parties, and picnics, and that sort of thing. I want to create my ideal world around myself.
I never want to stop believing in magic, however old I get.
And, of course, there is reading and writing. Escaping to that other world. Losing yourself in a book, so that you feel as tired as if you journeyed with the characters, so you feel heartache and joy with them. Having to sometimes hurt your characters is one of the hardest parts of writing.
Do you have an ideal reality you want to believe in, to live in? What are you doing to make yours come true?