Fickle Women

Fickle women: and by that I mean, Fickle Stefani. My own fickleness scares me. One day I think I have everything figured out, with my top ten list set in stone. Alas, the very next day I feel the need to scrap it and reconfigure the whole dang list. Sometimes I consider eliminating all top ten lists from my life because while they are very fun to make, they seem only to serve the purpose of marking the pathetic progress of my ever changing mind. Lucky for me, I discovered that William has the cure for fickleness.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every-wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Apparently all I have to do is fall in love...as if that is an easier option. I guess I'll be sticking with my transient top ten lists.