I have confessed my Jane Austen addiction before. I sit wrapped in a bouclé throw and under a purring Sophie watching the A&E series. As time passes, I wonder that I know every line of this five-hour film. What keeps me coming back to a story that I know so well? Is it personal joy, or is it the joy that remember in sharing it with someone? A worthy question, and one that I am unable to answer.
I have just now reached the conclusion of the first DVD, the moment when audible breaths catch, and Mr. Darcy confesses his love for Elizabeth. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” No wonder I spent a decent portion of my adolescence in love with Collin Firth, huh? But instead of losing myself in the conflict and the rawness tonight, I lose myself in memories. Mom bought the six-part VHS copy when it came out in the 90’s. That tidbit probably tells you little knowing that the two-part DVD is $20…but that VHS set was nearly $150.
We would take a week every year, watching one tape a night until we were through. Days four and five were the best, when the original conflicts lessen and Mr. Darcy puts Caroline Bingley in her place. FINALLY. Hate that woman!—in every medium I’ve seen/read her presented! Yet, I find my emotional involvement with tonight’s viewing detached.
Boredom does not seem to be a factor. Is it melancholy? Stronger emotions trumping silly fantasies? Is it a jaded outlook that makes this story unbelievable? Is it a calm contentedness in my own life that makes romanticizing this story unnecessary? I think it’s likely fatigue, knowing we are faced with choices regularly—hard choices—and they may or may not lead to happy ends. I do not care to think of them.
This all seems very inane, doesn’t it? Welcome to the Blogosphere. It’s just that I find it curious that I no longer lose myself in stories. My energy, heart, and time is better invested in my own life anyway…but I feel as though I have lost part of my identity.
I grudgingly watch South Park with Nick every now and then. Mostly, I find the show distasteful, but I would be remiss if I did not find it in equal parts funny.
I am not proud.
Last night, I was particularly amused when the townspeople of South Park awoke to no Internet. Widespread panic ensues as people cannot find out what happened to the internet because there is no internet to check! An awkward moment of silence encompasses the crowd as someone asks how they got their news before the Internet. As memory dawns, the throng breaks into a television store to turn on the news. The newscaster reports dully that their Internet is down and they have no way to get the news to report. In a deep resolve and in Grapes of Wrath style, one family decides to head out to California where it is rumored that there is still some Internet out there.
I found the satire hilarious. To equate the loss of the Internet with the Great Depression was brilliant, so sad and true. In the end, one of the little boys is sent to negotiate with The Internet (a giant router with a blinking orange light), and he makes peace with it by unplugging it, then plugging it back in. Peace (and the World Wide Web) returns to South Park, and a town meeting is held wherein the people are cautioned not to abuse web browsing, to only surf when absolutely necessary, and to view Internet pornography twice a day maximum.
And, with that distasteful note, I have dedicated an entire entry to South Park. Nick has poisoned my mind.
I had my yearly eye exam on Thursday. My optometrist monitors my hazel-y eye because she says that we should monitor anything on our bodies that change. Good news to report: I still don’t have a disease! The coloration is not raised and there is no presence of a tumor behind my eye. She says the hazel pigmentation cells in my right eye are the ones that I would have been given when I was created in my mother’s womb—and there is absolutely no presence of hazel in the other eye. Not even tiny cells that’ll be more apparent later on. Though, she did see noticeable advancement of the hazel from last year. Whereas her notes described last year’s presence as a “quadrant”, she says it is definitely fingering out. So, I guess we keep watching that sneaky booger and celebrate that I have another clean bill of health—those get more valuable after receiving several that are still pretty dirty. I am happy. I am just in a conundrum. I “dress” my eyes to bring out the blue…if I become all-hazel over there, do I need different palettes for each eye? Coppers for the blue and plums for the hazel? I find this all very distressing.