Modal verbs

I can’t:

Decide in which direction to take this blog.  Find the right colour to paint my flat. Style my bangs. Wake up in the morning.

I can:

Make a four month old smile by simply entering the room.  Watch back to back episodes of The West Wing for the twentieth time and still feel like I’m watching for the very first time.  Believe in better days. Look like a million bucks even when–inside–I feel like a crumpled, dirty, counterfeit five euro note.

I won’t:

Let my past experiences act like predictors for the future. Lie; Fergie’s Big Girls Don’t Cry is one of my most listened to tracks on iTunes. Be broke and in debt forever. [Right?]

I will:

Eventually, get on an airplane. Buy new leggings. And new panties. [Faded and outstretched do not a femme fatale make]  Stop blaming myself for the flawed behaviour of others. Love myself.

I should:

Floss more often. Eat better.  Start Pilates again. Wear heels more often.  Probably, stop giving the evil eye to all couples I see on the street. [Bitterness is for spinsters. Not for 28-year-old, adorably neurotic women who, let's be realistic, have plenty of options left.]

I shouldn’t:

Put too much stock in Susan Miller’s prediction that October 16th marks the beginning of an exciting new era romantically.  Expect anything. Be afraid of letting the next one in.

*As seen on It’s like I’m…Magic almost four months ago.