I am a hopeless romantic. I can spend minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years and decades mulling over something so trivial as love. I marvel people who can produce beautiful things with their hands, putting every ounce of effort, sweat, passion and determination in it. I appreciate art with all of my being. I dream I could write. I worry too much about global warming and the greenhouse effect, and how we are slowly, negligently destroying the only thing humanity has in common: the Earth. There is a big list that pertains to me in which all of my fictional boyfriends are listed. Sometimes I believe I think too much, sometimes I believe I think too little. I still believe in medieval stories, where the strong knight had to come and rescue the damsel in (not necessary) distress. I adjust.