(I'm going to say that whatever it is, the male Quest of Harry Potter is going to swing into alignment with the female concerns of VG/WWG, and what you'll be seeing in the next decade is going to be hero stories about girls, specifically instead of having these arbitrary Team Edward/Team Jacob blockheaded icons thrown in her path, more like Sookie than anything else, where the obstacles are mostly the girl's own bullshit rather than the freeform hysterical derangement about relationships that has come to characterize popular literature from chick lit to S&TC to He's Just Not That Into You, which gigantic chunk of our cultural landscape right now, when considered from the outside, looks screaming-meemie amounts of crazy. The regrettable thing about the post-ironic cycle we're about to hit is that self-obsession is the price you pay for earnestness, so, paradoxically you get more done for other people by focusing your hard work on yourself, unless you're doing it as a way around actually focusing on yourself. Which is inevitably what will happen, and then we'll all have to look around for a new way to fix ourselves/go crazy.) I guess it just comes down to the fact you're either loved or your forgotten, and this mad dash to be on the list of people who are loved is responsible for really bad judgment calls. To love is to raise, up into heaven; but to love is also to bury.
Which is a digression on a scale I don't even think I have ever attempted, but Sookie really seems to be confusing for a lot of viewers and I wanted to get that whole dichotomy out there. Breakfast, here and now, is from Adele's recipe. She cooked it for the man who stayed, and he just happens to be the man who can eat it, here in the morning, without bursting into flame. A whole life spent waiting for the story to start, for a man to love her without all the creepy stuff that goes along with it; a whole life waiting for sex without pain, for danger without terror, for beauty. Oh, to be normal, to be loved and normal and known as one of the ones who won, who wasn't alone. And the world keeps putting it in her grasp and pulling it away again. But when Sam walks out into the kitchen, putting on his T-shirt and looking at her with that smile, eating the breakfast she made for him, here in the sunlight, and teases her into eating it with him, that's a new offer from the universe: "You can have love without complications."