1 + 1 = 1?

Numbers are funny things. They can unify and divide (multiply and divide, if you don't mind the pun.) Life is a funny thing, it dangles in the balance of the numbers that define us. Tax file numbers, phone numbers, money, birthdays, school grades, bus routes, bank accounts, intelligence quotients, and so on. We can be broken down and catergorised. We are statistics, we are numerals. We are vast, many, few and solo. Alone, one, and single, all synonyms for my existence. Pair, couple or set, well that's the desired outcome, is it not? The road leading there is not lonely, but it certainly isn't unified.

I don't claim to know anything about successful relationships. But I do know how to go about a terrifically unsuccessful union. How do I figure that? Because, I've done it. Broken up, and broken down. Stumbled, tumbled, tripped and fallen in love, only to claw my way out again.

Back to the numbers, is there really only one person out there for each of us? A soul mate, a split-apart? The year is 2010, approximately seven billion individuals, or ones, reside on this planet. There are roughly six and half thousand spoken languages, now if only 5% of the world's population can afford to eat three meals a day, I doubt it's much more than 0.5% that can afford to travel. So if I have only a "one" what if I never meet them? What if the perfect candidate for me lives in a small town in Sweden? I refuse to believe these frivolities. Hey Plato! Thanks for creating this fantastic propaganda, it may have ruined more than one life!

Now, I can't definitively state what I want in a relationship, but I do have a mini "No Way" list. Film and television have encouraged the "love conquers all" notion, and simultaneously the "don't compromise" concept. Is this realistic? At all? That in a relationship we needn't compromise, we just love? Sure, we shouldn't be compromising on our values or who we really are, but our opinions probably need a good shake-down from time to time. Suck it up. See that movie that you have no desire for, go to the work events you can't stand. But, be sure to define the line, there is a distinction between a doormat and a negotiator. Bargaining and negotiations are the steps toward compromise. We decide what we want, and what we are willing to yield to get it.

But who are we willing to yield to? Need they be tall, dark, handsome, intelligent, worldly, funny, talented, and affectionate? Or would a certain percentage suffice? Do we really want someone who meets our every last standard? Or should we relinquish something from the beginning, and get some practice from the start. Because, let's face it, what standards are we lacking in that we hope and pray a nice person is willing to overlook?

I know that I bite my nails, swear too often, hate washing my hair more than absolutely necessary, I can't cook, I hate to clean, I say the wrong thing at the worst possible time, I prefer being at home than being out, I'm difficult to argue with, I struggle to form casual social bonds (weather talk simply flabbergasts me,) and I'm a bit of a geek.

If someone, anyone, is willing to look past my extensive assortment of short-comings, who am I to say no to any of theirs?

My First Love

I was with him from the beginning. I walked with him through self-discovery, through making new friends, unveiling old enemies, first love and heart-ache, through death and despair. We went through it all together. Our journey is over now, but the opportunities for us to relive those moments are yet to come to an end.
I first met The Boy Who Lived when I was eleven, the year for me was 1999, and I've stuck with him ever since. Harry Potter, the stories I grew up with, I've read every book over and over, and seen the films even more.
The first film, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, hit Australian cinemas on the 29th of November 2001, it was a Thursday morning, I was in the 8th grade. My mother let me take the day off school to see the very first session, 10am at Hoyts Belconnen. I almost wore my "Sorting Hat" but I thought better of it, and allowed my memorabilia rest at home.
I remember the mystery of getting "The" first letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hand delivered by a half-giant named Hagrid, who soon became, not only an ally, but our friend and confidant.
The journey ended in July of 2007. I was 19 years old, yet I sat crying over the loss of many great friends in the Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry Potter was a pilgrimage I shared with my generation, for those of us yet to experience some of the maturer events in the real world, Harry introduced us to the shallow end of the pool. And for those of us older than our years, we had a friend doing life with us through the hardships we were unprepared for.
The Harry Potter voyage is approaching the absolute end now, Deathly Hallow Part 1 is being released later this year, and I for one, could not be more excited. The film saga began with Chris Columbus' directing. He took care of the Philosopher's Stone, translating it to the screen with the grace and respect it deserved. And the finale has been reared by David Yates, who picked up the baton in 2007 with The Order of the Phoenix.
Today I watched the official trailer of Deathly Hallows Part 1 for the first time, and it sent tingles down my spine. I do have a tendency to approach all book-to-film translations with apprehension, but I refuse to this time.
Mr Yates, I do have faith in your work. I trust that you wish to do the best for Harry. And please, please, don't add any unnecessary scenes, like the Battle at the Burrow again. That was ridiculous.