2003-11-13

I recieved some rather icky news this evening (which I will not disclose as it is too icky to ever tell anyone. I hardly want to let me in on it). Anyway, I have a bad taste in my mouth that will not go away because of it. So I did what any girl would do. I ate turkey roll-ups and shoved three cans of Diet Coke down my throat and smoked umpteen million cigarettes. And, to purge the matter from my mind forthwith, I watched Pride and Prejudice- all six hours (which might explain why I cannot stop partially speaking, writing, and thinking as if I am in Regency period England). I thought the movie would help me forget the ickiness and restore in me the hope and optimism that it usually does. But it has failed me. In fact, I am more depressed then ever.

Seeing it. The understated romance of it. The beauty, the propriety, the dignity of the time. The formal speech. It only makes me even more disappointed with the time I live in. I mean, we live in a society saturated with skankitude of the worst order. Books by Jane Austen have been replaced as the standard of romance by reality shows like Elimidate (which you might have seen me blast some entries back). Sex is almost a handshake. Whereas in Austen's time, you could be assumed engaged if you danced more than twice with any man. So women were brood mares to be foisted off on any bachelor who would take them off their family's hands. It sucks, true. But Austen makes it work. Her novels brought women hope. I guess that's why romance novels sell so heavily. Women want to hope men are better than they are. More noble. More loyal. Considering men have a lack of oxytocin in their brains, they can never be loyal the way we are. And it sucks.

I'm not saying everyone has to get married first. I'm not suggesting that everyone should armor their private parts and never have dirty thoughts (especially not about Mr. Darcy). I'm not even saying I want to be a brood mare in early 1800's England (unless it was for Mr. Darcy. I'd crawl in the mud and oink like a piggy if it was for Mr. Darcy). I just want more actual romance- not only in my life, but in the world in general. And not dumb, fancy dinners with candles. Not walks on the beach and precious moments dolls (No offense, Hometown. I know you like the stupid figurines. But they are way too sugary for my tastes). I don't mean carriage rides and roses and candy... Well, maybe some candy. And a sandwich. If a man loved me, I don't want him to give me a giant bear with "I love you" on its tummy. I'd want him to do something that shows it. Perhaps he can pay a scoundrel to marry my whorish sister, Lydia, but not let me know he did it. Or he could invite my lower class aunt and uncle to dinner at his mansion. Also, he'd just been vigorously fencing in an effort to forget me. Then he could show up in a wet shirt after taking a refreshing swim on his grounds after a hot, dusty horse ride. His shirt open a bit at the top, showing only a hint of chest hair.... I'm sorry about that. Pride and Prejudice has invaded my brain again. I'm now having dirty Mr. Darcy thoughts... again.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say over here. Maybe it's that I want a man like Mr. Darcy and have yet to find one. Maybe it's that I think Pride and Prejudice is a much sexier love story-without even a hint of sex and only one tiny kiss-than anything they're feeding us today. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Romance is both dead and rotting in a time capsule. I'm going to stop being ashamed of my voracious appetite for romance novels and romantic comedies. We need to find hope where we can. I am no different.

I hate to say this, but I was always bluffing with my singlehood vow. I'd toss it in a second for a decent man. I think the vow just made my singlehood seem like a choice, rather than something that has been thrust upon me. I want to be romanced and chased and wooed. I want a stupid house and a stupid husband and three stupid babies. Well, maybe not stupid babies. My babies better be smart. I will shut up now. And I will get my brain out of Pride and Prejudice land. I am really sorry about this entry. There was no point or direction or coherence. Just following the path of the brain.

Oh- and I will finish recapping the vacay tomorrow. And, after watching Degrassi a bit more, I'm already sick of it. I guess it was just a passing infatuation- that and it fueled the wish that I could go back to my teen years and start over. That would kind of rock. Besides watching Daria every chance I get, I found another Noggin show I like. Radio Free Roscoe. I actually like it. It's "Pump up the Volume" meets... a teen show. I like it. It's better than other teen shows I've tried to watch (I can't find love for any of them ever since they canceled My So-Called Life after one season- which was ended on a cliff-hanger. Which left me unfulfilled and bitter). Or maybe it's just that I think Travis is hot. He has that Eddie Kay Thomas quality I love in a man... or a fifteen-year-old boy. Whatever. Yeah. I am dirty old woman. It still feels wierd. I know I've been an "adult" for a few years now. But I still can't get used to the fact that I can't watch a high school movie or show and crush on anyone on it. Cause if I could jump into the TV and attack the guy in question, I'd be jailed. I am having thoughts that should get me jailed- considering Travis is, you know, fifteen. I console myself with the thought that whoever it is that plays him might be older. I mean, half the 90210 kids were twenty-five. So, I shouldn't feel guilty.

Okay- I am even sorrier about this entry now.