April 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’ve been rereading ‘Persuasion’ for class this week. Now, not to get too sentimental and emotional (I don’t do PDE – public displays of emotion), but it has kind of tied in with my own feelings recently. Especially this line which keeps coming back to me:
“but internally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt, that the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed by a Louisa Musgrove.” – Lady Russell’s internal monologue.
I like the idea of there being ‘an Anne Elliot’ type and ‘a Louisa Musgrove’ type. Of course, ideally, I’d like to consider myself the former. But then I suppose most would.
April 21, 2012 § Leave a comment
Last week was a busy one. I won’t regale you with the inanities of my day to day existence. Lots of Charities Campaign work, checking emails constantly, interviews, essays… And now, one final essay, a successful interview that gained me an internship in St Andrews over summer, and a lot of change. Sometimes change is quite a nice thing, really. I think that, right now, it isn’t so welcome, simply because the alternatives are not desirable. With friends, boys, etc. etc. blah blah blah boring boring.
Anyway, I’ve left this one final essay a bit late. It’s Restoration Theatre, it’s on sexual politics, and it’s going nowhere. I haven’t enjoyed my modules as fully as last term. Perhaps it is because the tutors are far less engaging. I’m still doing well (thus far…) so perhaps there is no real need to care as much as last semester. I enjoyed studying theatre last year but now it just feels like this deep pool of water that I’ve dived in to and keep on swimming swimming down into, without ever really grasping anything concrete or tangible. Perhaps that is code for ‘I must work harder’.
On a far more exciting and optimistic note, I may have a topic for my dissertation next year. ‘Jane Eyre’, of course. In my dad’s words, “a bit predictable” (perhaps I’m misquoting him, but along those lines). Yes – and my bloody favourite predictable thing ever. Oh, now watch me go on a verbose reminiscence of my schooldays and how I just loved ‘Jane Eyre’ and have wanted to study it more in depth ever since – there. I’m trying to be less verbose. Be more concise. And all that. Jazz.
April 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
I recently came across the website ‘Letters of Note’ (http://www.lettersofnote.com/). One of my favourites is a letter from F Scott Fitzgerald to his daughter Scottie, in which he tells her to:
Worry about courage
Worry about cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship
Don’t worry about popular opinion
Don’t worry about dolls
Don’t worry about the past
Don’t worry about the future
Don’t worry about growing up
Don’t worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don’t worry about triumph
Don’t worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don’t worry about mosquitoes
Don’t worry about flies
Don’t worry about insects in general
Don’t worry about parents
Don’t worry about boys
Don’t worry about disappointments
Don’t worry about pleasures
Don’t worry about satisfactions
Well, apart from horsemanship dolls, mosquitoes and flies, I can identify with them all. I find it particularly interesting that he claims not to believe in misery or happiness. Perhaps these are merely abstract constructs that people have conjured up, created. Yet, that can be said about most things. Language has been created and evolved. Feelings, too. I do spend a lot of time pondering misery and happiness, what it means to be ‘happy’ particularly. Sadness is something that you know you are feeling. Happiness is a different entity altogether. Often in hindsight you can pinpoint a moment or period of happiness, that perhaps was not tangible or acknowledged at the time. Yet, if happiness and misery are abstract – then, surely courage is, too? Courage to do what?
So many unanswered questions to worry about. Fitzgerald didn’t say she shouldn’t worry about unanswered questions… so I will continue.