Happy Birthday, Ms. Austen

Today, the 16th of December 2013, would be the 238th birthday of Jane Austen if authors lived for as long as their works do.

Perhaps in anticipation of this historic event, a watercolor portrait of Jane was recently sold at auction for $270,000. The portrait painted by James Andrews was commissioned in 1869 for Austen's nephew James Edward Austen-Leigh's biography of her life. 

Image from www.jasa.net

The Smile

                                                     by Alexandra Harmening
She jogged to the beginning of the stairs and pulled up, her abdomen cramping and lungs heaving. She walked out overlooking the gray sky and the stormy teal current. One flight below her view, a weathered man with thinning greasy hair and a puffy winter jacket stood shredding on an invisible guitar, rocking out to the private concert streaming from his over sized headphones. She smiled wishing she could take a picture and capture the strange homeless guitarist as he worshiped experience and the waves crashed beyond him.

Tiptoeing past him, she smooshed through the soft sand down next to the lapping water where the moisture seeped up and trimmed the earth.  A small pod of dolphins bobbed in the shallow surf and the deeper rollers. She smiled watching their fins peep through and their noses cut through the surging liquid
.
On her way back to the top and the street, she jogged upstairs past the man who had by this point removed the music from is ears and stood contemplating the surf. She flashed a smile in his direction. He stared up, grinning. His crinkled leathery brown skin sagged a bit. bristly silver hairs poked through about the yellow mouth. The eyes were glazed and distracted, but he grinned back, happy to be noticed not shunned.

He mumbled something unintelligible, so she asked, "Did you see the dolphins?" She was halfway up the next flight when he happily moaned, "No."

She stopped and pointed out, "They're right there. The dolphins."

He pointed at her and kept grinning, open mouthed. "You have a beautiful smile," he pronounced in an enunciated slur.

"Thank you." The smile grew into her whole face and shot out her eyes.

She had never considered anything particularly remarkable about her smile. In fact, most of the time it bothered her. The way her whole face scrunched up to allow her teeth to show. The way her large cheeks swelled and hid her eyes. When people took pictures, she always cringed at how her eyes practically disappeared into brown slits. So she worked to hold her eyes wide, straining her forehead muscles.

But despite all this, people always commented on the smile. Perfect strangers most of the time, usually older folk. "Keep smiling."

"That girl has a beautiful smile." The tech assistant, a white haired old man who loved to tease, would come into the library once a week, never failing to say something about the smile. "Well I will fix it for her becuase she has a great smile." And it always just made her smile grow.

"Ya," the leathery man on the stairs grinned through his gums. You are gonna make a boy. No," he trailed off. "Ya. Your husband weally..." She thought he said "really happy." But she just kept smiling and waited patiently for his mind to communicate with the muscles in his mouth. She felt unthreatened and unworried, enjoying being sweet. 

"Ya." He finished, grinning straight into her eyes.

"Thank you." She said sincerely. "Have a wonderful day." She trotted up the stairs blushing and still smiling.

Project Update

With just 2.5 weeks left on this year long blog project, I totally choked. There have been things happening but not much brain power left out to relate them. Although the time allotted for this whole Pride and Prejudice and gender ideas and Jesus doing awesomeness project is about to time out, the interesting lessons cropping up just keep coming.

One of these new lessons involves the possible co-dependence of trust and respect. I thought of this when thinking about how we sometimes want to say, "I will trust you as long as you do ...," or "I respect you as long as you don't..." Those conditions nullify the original statement. I'm still not totally sure yet what this all means, but I'm thinking it is really important.

Another idea involves the goodness of grief. Madeline L'Engle writes that "Wounds [can be] the Midwives of Loveliness." The importance of suffering is something that has danced around at the corners of my reason for the last year. But I'm learning as of last week that like Jesus weeping for Lazarus (despite knowing that he would bring him back in a couple of days) allowing grief over a wound might be the key to truly forgiving and stepping onwards.

I'm excited to see what God brings up next. Thanks for reading!

New Guest Post

Hey everyone,

Check out the post I had published called 4 Ways to Survive School Even If You Don't Have a Time Machine. It is featured on author Stefanie Weisman's blog Valedictorian's Guide.

If I Could Write a Letter to Freshman Me

Dear Me,

You're only 18 (which I know sounds officially old, but don't worry 'cause you will still feel like a girlish goofball at 21 and probably from here on out), and I know you are trying to figure out this college thing and this social thing and at the same time in the back corner of your mind--okay let's be real, the front and center of the cerebral cortex--you are watching out for some young man to watch out for you.

In the midst of the next six semesters which will drag and whirl simultaneously in one confusing hurricane, here are a few things to look out for:

• Relax. God made you like you are, so he obviously likes you that way and other people will, too. (I know. I know. It sounds crazy.)
• When he walks up to you and smiles for the first time, it's okay to get ridiculously excited. I'm pretty darn sure he really is the one.
• Mom and Dad don't want to tie you down, so try not to treat them like prison guards. 
• Graduating in three years. Not really sure what to say about that one other than, at least you only have to do it once. 
• Love people more, judge less. (There are already enough skeptics in the world.)
• Do keep trying as hard as you can. You won't be sorry. 
• Plunge in love with Jesus; he's so with you the whole time. 

Finally, lot's of people are praying. Thank them. 

Good luck, 

Me

Because He Knows Us and Wants Us to Know Him

A young man said, "You know how sometimes you want me to go ahead and then other times you don't?"
"Ya." His college aged girlfriend nods, smiling.
"Well, now is one of those times, but I'm not sure which one."
"Doesn't that suck for you?" She laughs.

Tonight, some friends and I were talking about how sometimes it feels like God just gives us the freedom to choose. We thought that this might be because God desperately desires relationship with us and will give us a choice instead of a directive so that we grow to know his character and and walk by faith.It reminded me of a chapter that I read last week about the ways his character is manifested in some typically feminine traits.

Women are teased for being "fickle" or for not knowing what they want but wanting someone else to know. Now, I think God always knows what his plans and purposes are, but I think sometimes God, like a woman, might want to be so known to the core that we don't have to have him tell us what he wants. Maybe he wants us so much that our choices match his desires because we want to please him.

But God, perhaps in the way that women sometimes want it all, also makes sure that he can never be understood completely. He is mysterious and draws us in.

God so wishes intimacy with his beloved ones that he will, in the words of Hosea 2, "slay" them if that is what will bring us back to him. But he will not leave us flattened. He will "speak tenderly" and call us back to himself with incredible gentleness.

And now we come to the part of the story where I fish for some connection with Pride and Prejudice. Elizabeth is a woman who is willing to hold out for that deeper knowing. If it means risking everything, she'll wait until she knows she is known by a lover and a friend.

I think God is willing to hold out, too because "he delights in steadfast love," according to Micah 7:18

"I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion. I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord." Hosea 2:19-20

Worship in Suffering

It would seem that when one blogs for a living, she has fewer and fewer words left over at the end of the day. Hence the absence of a post last week. But here is a quick scribble before I pass out on my pillow.

I've been learning more about profound suffering. In this instance, God is teaching me through others' stories, not my own. Like so many things that are literally upside down in the kingdom of God, it seems that a righteous response to agony is worship. I'm not sure exactly what to make of this other than that God demands our attention. And if it takes baby steps where we learn to focus on his face and transform our thinking with a thankful heart, then he will wreck and tear until it is accomplished.

I'm not sure if this has a great deal to do with beloved old P&P at the moment. But Jane experiences pain. Elizabeth humiliation. As Mr. Bennet aptly pronounces, every girl likes to be tossed in love once and a while. Perhaps it's through this tossing of life that God simplifies our perspective and adjusts our focus and is never beholden to answer our why's, although sometimes he gently chooses to do so anyway.

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."--Romans 5:1-5

Getting Ready to Grow Up

I've been thinking. "Ah, a dangerous habit." True, but I do. A lot.

I was trying to explain myself Tuesday night. Trying to explain that I don't know if I'm ready to grow up to move on to the next adventure of life. And after finally saying I just wasn't, I began, for the first time, to think that maybe I actually am.

Subconsciously, I've known at my core for a while that after marriage life ends and begins. In other words, life as I know it is over, everything will change and I will be divorced from that which I know because I belong to something else. And I didn't think I'd ever be prepared for that.

But just this week, God has been planting little situations in my mind and perhaps nudging me that yes, it will be different and difficult--but. But it does not mean that I will be totally dead. And if it does, then I ought to have died a great while ago when I told Jesus I belonged to him.

And I think that even if it does mean radical change without ever going back, I still want to do it.

In less serious and brooding thoughts, I am actually really enjoying my new work. Yes, that thing which I feared and avoided for so many years I have discovered is really not so bad. Work consumes the better part of each day, but that is a few hours where I am busy and can't think which is sometimes a plus. I am learning a lot, and it is really pretty exciting to earn money and have a reason to wake up and be dressed and out the door in the morning.

So in some small ways grown up life is already happening without my knowing it.

Death Comes to Pemberley New BBC Mini Series

A few months ago, I posted about a 2011 novel that conjectured a mysterious sequel to P&P called Death Comes to Pemberley. Now, P.D. James’s Pride and Prejudice mystery spin is currently being filmed as a three part BBC series. Shooting began in July after the cast was announced in May.

Mr. Darcy sporting his Ray-bans on set

The series is set to star Matthew Rhys as the new Mr. Darcy  and Anna Maxwell Martin as Elizabeth/Mrs. Darcy. Also included in the cast is Matthew Goode who will play the wily Mr. Whickham. Rhys laughs that “The Beauty of Pemberley is that it is an entirely new and different Darcy six years on. (And also, I don’t have to appear from a lake in a white shirt and breeches)” referring of course to Colin Firth’s portrayal in the 1995 version.

Filmed on location at England’s historic Harewood House in Yorkshire, the mini series should air on BBC One sometime early next year.

Image from news.yahoo.com

Kelly Clarkson and Jane Austen's Ring

Jane Austen graces the news yet again this summer, this time in connection with the American pop star Kelly Clarkson.

Earlier this month, the British minister of culture Ed Vaizy placed a temporary export bar on a turquoise and gold ring which belonged to Jane Austen. Kelly Clarkson, the American Idol and Grammy winner, had purchased Austen’s ring at auction last year for $232,700. However, Vaizy hopes that the “national treasure” can be “saved for the nation.”

Kelly Clarkson is an avid Austen fan who also owns a first edition of Persuasion. The star has been seen sporting a replica of Austen’s turquoise ring at both the recent presidential inauguration and the 55^th Grammy awards.

Potential English buyers have until September 30^th to match the price tag. Two weeks after the export bar was put in place, an anonymous donor gifted ₤100,000 (which adds to roughly $155,000) to Jane Austen’s House Museum in an effort to help keep the ring home in England.

With this serious move towards reclaiming the artifact, the export ban has been stretched to December 30^th. The museum will have until the end of the year to gather the rest of the purchase price. In an interview with The Associated Press, the museum fundraiser Louise West commented that “it is very good for Jane Austen PR that a young, famous American pop star expresses a love for her.”

The ring is one of three pieces of jewelry known to belong to the iconic British novelist Jane Austen. Until Clarkson’s purchase at auction, the ring had stayed in the family passing from Jane to her sister Cassandra. Cassandra then presented the ring as an engagement gift to her sister-in-law Eleanor Austen.

Images from www.abebooks.com and www.mirror.co.uk

Jane Austen Takes Over the Bank of England

It is being called a win for both women and authors in general. Late last month, the Bank of England confirmed its choice to grace the 10-note with the face of its beloved female novelist Jane Austen beginning in 2017.

Along with Jane’s portrait, a drawing of her brother's home Godmersham park, her writing desk and a picture of Elizabeth Bennet, the redesigned 10-pound note will also include a quotation from Pride and Prejudice’s Miss Bingley, saying, “I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!”

“Jane Austen certainly merits a place in the select group of historical figures to appear on our banknotes,” stated the bank’s governor Mark Carney. “Her novels,” he continued, “have an enduring and universal appeal, and she is recognized as one of the greatest writers in English literature.”

In celebration of her 200 years defending the integrity of the novel, Jane will bump Charles Darwin’s face, which has appeared since 2000, from the bill. After the announcement to use Winston Churchill on the note in 2016 caused a general outcry, Jane’s face was instead selected.

Image from www.thejaneaustensocietyofireland.com

Is it Harder to Be Elizabeth or Jane?

Image from www.fanpop.com

Despite complex courting rituals, long dancing parties and uncomfortable stays, I am beginning to suspect that discovering regency matrimony is entirely less complicated that just falling in love in the 21st century. Pinning down an amiable man with a substantial fortune sounds a lot more complicated. But recently, I've been feeling that that would be a lot easier than attempting to identify your best friend for forever.

Maybe it's because we place ridiculous expectations on modern relationships and we have advances in psychology to back us up.  Maybe, and this is perhaps the more probable hypothesis, it's because I think too much and usually want to take more from life than it is supposed to give.

To illustrate, I present exhibit A Jane Bennet and exhibit B Elizabeth.

A: Jane faces more than she would probably care for of ache and heartbreak. She finds exactly what she was hoping for, thinks she's lost it before it was hers but then gets it in the end. As a result she is rendered completely deliriously happy without a thought or care otherwise.

B: Elizabeth, on the other hand, doesn't quite believe that what she requires actually exists in human form. Perhaps that's why when she runs smack into him, she comes away with the impression that he's exactly the opposite. While we hope that clinging to a standard or a dream--whichever you want to call it--will result in happily ever after, the ride there is sometimes a roller coaster of frustration, excitement, disappointment, confusion and wondering what on earth we really do want and how to wait.

There is probably not one best way to go about the matter because every story will be as unique as every person. But when waiting for happily ever after, expect pain as well as your allotted smattering of joy.

Why the Dashes?

      

         Throughout Pride and Prejudice, multiple em dashes appear in place of real names and dates. A sweet friend recently asked me why, and I had no real clue which prompted a bit of research this morning.   
          One research article speculating on the actual locations uncovered a city called Harpenden which sits in just about the right distance from London described in the book as the town of Meryton. Just to the south of that town is a village called Redbourn which the article tied to the fictional Longbourn.
          The author suggested that these fictional names would help Austen be careful to be discreet. However, their are copious other details in the novel about particular places and time frames. An address of the Gardiner home is even provided, Gracechurch Street in London.
           Perhaps the occasional "in the town of -- in Hertfordshire" was part of the secrecy Austen felt necessary when publishing as an anonymous woman. In a book full of copious details, there is still an em dash worth of imagination required.

Image from www.ukga.org

Marvelous Mondays .

         Since beginning this blog project in which posts are technically scheduled to generate themselves sometime on the first day of the week, Mondays have grown less odious and surprisingly significant at times. Case and point, today is a Monday on which this blog was finally updated, this writer's family embarked on a vacation adventure and said writer was blessed with employment at last (in a real job over which her parents heartily rejoice).

Poem and Persuasion

A short break from P&P for another Austen Classic
           Though Anne Elliot graces the pages of a different Austen novel, I think she is right when the novel comments, "She thought it was the misfortune of poetry to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it truly were the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly."
           I'm not much of a poet but it's easiest to read and write when in one of two extremes: either deliriously ecstatic or profoundly melancholy. With that said, here is something I wrote last spring. It tends towards something Captain Benwick might enjoy. That is before he meets Louisa Musgrove.

Time and Tribute
By Alexandra Harmening

Time marches past,

A greedy tyrant.

“You think you’re busy now. Ha!”

They say, “Wait Until.”  

Time marches past,

Collapsing infinite possibility

Into one swift reality,

Absorbing precious bits of eternity

With tasks and choices. Steadily,

I mourn. Goodbye to creativity.

So long my sleepy daydreams.

Busy is the name of my god.

At his throne I pay tribute:

Emails, errands, exams.

Sacrifices of freedom, rest and sanity,

All in the name of productivity.

But my lord promises me rest eventual.

That grass turns greener right over near hill.

After this assignment

or through that door

just as soon as this thing finishes

once that job’s completed,

A rest will come.

The madness ends.

But I’m beginning to think it never does.

Time’s troops will not halt.

Not Until

         All your tribute is gone,

Not Until

        The madness has seeped up inside you,

Not Until

        You lie in your bed,

Not Until

        You wake up dead.

Tasting Regency Life: Seven Miles for Seven Days

       This week's Bennet experience comes to you quite by accident. Literally. It wasn't a car accident, but it was the first time I've pulled over to the emergency lane and clunked off the freeway into the arms of the nearest repair shop.
         How is one's car clunking apart at all parallel to the life of a Regency girl? Well, transportation was not such an easy affair as it is today. Obviously, there were still carriages pulled by horses not engines. The train had yet to appear in existence for another couple of decades. So your options were to travel by post, a sort of stagecoach public transportation which would cost you. Or to maintain your own stable of animals and vehicles which required some wealth.
         The Bennet's had one carriage, and my family stables five, practically one for each driver. Except that recently, all five of these horseless carriages have repeatedly been lame or colicking (common horse problems in case you were wondering).
         My family maintains this vast stable of steeds by brokering in older horses which sell cheaply at market. However, in the last few weeks, this practice has sort of caught up, and as a result, we are this week attempting not to drive beyond the seven mile radius in which our insurance will pay for a tow. And this is what brings me once again into a pair of Elizabeth Bennet's slippers.
        In her world, walking was probably the easiest mode of transport. We see Lizzy walking profoundly throughout the text. And I'm postulating that in a pair of her shoes and petticoats one doesn't always walk a great distance further than seven miles. So this week, I'm mostly at home writing or reading or walking--or getting graciously picked up in friends carriages--and beginning to understand a bit about how Regency women might have felt.
       

Mostly Pride

    

       I was recently confronted with the realization that I am perhaps like Elizabeth Bennet in ways I'd probably rather not admit. It seems that pride should be an obvious failing in the way that Darcy is readily judged as haughty and nasty when he first appears on the Merrytown social front. But where Darcy's high opinion proves blatant, Elizabeth has her own arrogance which lies cloaked beneath good judgement and wit.
        Just to clarify, I'm far from claiming good judgement or wit for myself, but the pride part--um, yes. It is there in disguise to me but probably plain to all other eyes. It reminds me of a line from a fictional film about Jane Austen's life where another character accuses the young authoress of secretly considering herself a cut above the company.
         Perhaps it's Lizzy's pride which leads her to maintain a certain standard of expectations. And this in turn leads to a First Impression of Darcy that is negative as he continues to fall beneath her expectation of what "a young man ought to be."
         The good news is that eventually Elizabeth is effectively humbled and realizes her own arrogance in judging Darcy and other characters such as Charlotte Lucas. But had she not allowed herself to change her mind and abandon expectations, she would probably have grown up to be the full-time aunt of Jane and Bingley's brood and we wouldn't have Pride and Prejudice.

"I got your back, babe."

       

           For much of the story, Elizabeth Bennet is a distinguished scholar on all the possible failings and faults of Fitzwilliam Darcy. One can hardly know Lizzy without knowing her professed dislike of Darcy.
           But at some point her scholarship takes a definite turn. In what C.S. Lewis terms "the humiliation of Elizabeth Bennet," she realizes her own inadequacies and misguided impressions and begins to respect and value some of Darcy's qualities which she had not noticed under her list of adjectives for rude and arrogant.
           I've been thinking a bit lately about how easy it is to be critical of one's partner, in any relationship but especially in a marriage or courting context. We're in such a close context and we have such a vested interest in the other half's behavior that little worries or quirky habits become glaring errors in our eyes. See exhibit A: the famous toothpaste tube illustration.
           However, I think it's perhaps imperative to take a page from Elizabeth's book. Once she esteems Darcy and signs up to take his last name, she is his staunch supporter and steady defender of his honor and good name. She informs her father that he is basically the foremost character of her entire acquaintance.
           I think we should stick up for one another, be they spouses, potential spouses, friends, siblings, parents, etc. I would certainly prefer for others to dwell on any positive traits I might have rather than search for flaws and problems that need adjusting. Not only is it honoring to our spouse or friend, but focusing on what is lovely and good in other people helps to feed a truer care and love for that person. So while it's far simpler to critique little and big things, I'm thinking that it is far better, for everyone involved, to cheer the other person on.

Praise the Lord!

             God is so good. And after letting me wander a bit in the abyss of directionlessness (which was perhaps the healthiest thing to do), He's started to swing open preliminary gates.
            Unfortunately, Jane Austen didn't have the internet. So she couldn't blog her way into a publisher.  In 1797, she completed her first draft of First Impressions. Her father attempted to have the novel published. It was not until 1813 that the book finally came to print at Pride and Prejudice. Austen experienced other initial frustrations such as selling Northbanger Abbey only to buy it back several years later after it failed to make it to print. Like many great artists, Austen's acclaim eventually arrived in its time.
             Happily for me, internet now exists. And just this Monday, a little article of mine was picked up by Relevant magazine's website. It's about dating and the common Christian advice to 'guard your heart.' You can check out the link below. 

www.relevantmagazine.com/life/what-guarding-your-heart-actually-means
             It's been kind of fun this week to squeal over having a tiny something published. And more importantly, it has served as encouragement to keep typing away.

Life is Like an Avocado

         My man took me to the county fair last Friday. Fairs are synonymous with freakishly large things. Whether cows, pigs, carrots or balls of string, large is celebrated with blue ribbons. One of my favorite big things we found was giant painting of a large avocado. See picture below in which I attempt to take a bite of canvas. 

           The enormity of this painted fruit reminded me of something I wrote at school two years ago. 

           "God showed me this morning that I often approach life the way I approach avocados. I just naturally assume they are going to be rotten. I hope they will be perfect, but I prepare for the worst. I expect fear. But God is showing me that life is rarely, dare I say never, as bad as I worry it can be, and always way better than I can imagine it to be. It is not a perfect illustration as I have experienced many disappointing avocados and very little trouble in life, and avocados as a fruit are simply a garnish whereas life is the main course I suppose. 

          But it remains that I expect avocados to be brown and rotten and plan to cut out the bad and mush the rest with garlic, salt and pepper to make guacamole just in case. I do that in life too, planning for possible outcomes. But God just wants me to trust him and not waste energy worrying. I think God makes much better guacamole than I do. Though the thick, dark skin prevents me seeing the quality of the fruit underneath, God has created the cool, green stuff to be good, and he sees it while it hides from me." 

         After announcing the revelation that "life is like an avocado" in creative writing class and writing an avocado inspired haiku on the board during our poetry workshop, my Ohioan professor responded, "By saying 'life is like an avocado,' do you mean it is tasteless and bland?" So for those non-California natives who do not fully appreciate the importance of the avocado, I apologize that this illustration may prove mostly wasted.

         But for anyone else who enjoys the green, smooth texture...

         I am not sure whether Jane Austen was ever inspired by food. However, she does include an interesting reflection on potatoes from the mouth of Mr. Collins at the Bennet's dinner table. But as a wannabe writer, I am often struck with an idea after reflecting on edible things like avocados, omelets and pizza, etc. 

        Returning to reflections on the avocado, I found this idea of expecting disappointment relevant once again in this new season of post-graduation. Although it's been strange to live without school or the thought of returning to it, things are beginning to form in a direction that I didn't think feasible a couple of weeks ago. I started my first paid writing project today, and I feel quite at home because it's just like getting a homework assignment. The point being that God remains much more faithful than an avocado. Though the avocados have been mostly quite tasty and creamy too this summer. 

Sisters

       

         I love girls. I love being around them--talking, laughing, crying, hugging and praying. Raised with two boys, I have multiple surrogate women in my life who act as sisters, grandmothers, and extra aunts and mothers.
         I suspect that Austen was a woman's woman, too. Her beloved sister Cassandra was her nearest confidant, and most of her work stems from female perspectives. There is the Bennet clan of Amazons who outnumber poor Mr. Bennet, the tight male-less Dashwood group, the disjointed Elliot women, etc. The women in these tales don't always get along. There are often unreasonable members, such as Lady Catherine or Mrs. Bennet, as well as unhelpful advice from female counselors like Lady Russell or Emma. But despite the occasional persecution amongst their own sex, the women of Austen are a fairly tight bunch as they wrestle with life and with men--the more foreign companions.
       Guys can be awesome friends, as well. In fact, I'm appreciating and valuing them more and more. However, the immediate intimacy available with most women who giggle and scream and just "totally understand" requires more careful navigation.
      

Death Comes to Pemberley

        I filled recent hours on airplanes with a modern murder mystery set in Austen's universe which my aunt recommended a while back. Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James focuses on Darcy and Lizzy's happy microcosm at Pemberley with their two sons, neighbors the Bingleys and young sister Georgiana who is getting to know two suitors. But soon tragedy strikes as Captain Denny is murdered in the woods, Whickham becomes a suspect and Lydia becomes hysterical.
       This representation of characters from the classic is a cute and well-done spinoff. James weaves in other Austen stories referring to the Knightleys from Emma as well as connecting the action to Elliot's from Persuasion.

Artistic Endeavors

"Woody"

           My first time putting artwork up for sale. Today, a couple of my beach watercolors went up in a local Oceanside consignment shop called Lorraine's Galleria.

"Waves"

Trip Recap

            As promised, here is a pictorial recap of our trip last week.

 Andrew Jackson, the White House and the Washington Monument.

Pennsylvania Avenue.

The Korean War Memorial.

 Mount Vernon was Beautiful.

 Outside the Library of Congress.

Alexandra Hamilton?

 

             So what does a whirlwind tour of colonial America have to do with Regency England and Pride and Prejudice? Well, I'm arguing that it was my version of Elizabeth's trip with the Gardiners to the Lake Country and Derbyshire because there were some beautiful buildings and landscapes. Also, I saw this at Arlington National Cemetery. 

Library of Congress Tour

         

             Day seven of our D.C. trip today. My mom and I spent the first few days in the capitol, rode the train up to Wilton, Connecticut to visit friends and head into N.Y.C. tomorrow.
            Wandering around the capitol on Memorial Day weekend, my mother and I walked into the Library of Congress as it was beginning to close. We peeked through closed doors, and I snapped pictures of the engraved quotes and the gilded dome. Wandering around down below the main hall, we got separated. As a searched around, a security officer with a rust colored beard walked after me calling, "Ma'am, where are you going?"
             "To grab my mom. She's somewhere down there."
             "I don't want you to get lost down here." So he came with me.
             But at the end of the long corridor revealed yet another maze of halls and no mother. I tried calling her cellphone while the guard strode back whispering into his radio. Seeing him become smaller and smaller back down the hall, I made a break for it and jogged down the next hall to look. Nothing. I felt hot and fighting mad as I turned around to walk back.
            There she came with the bearded guard at her side. I couldn't stay angry for too long because the officer escorted us down through a gold elevator and asked if we would like to see the library floor, usually off limits to tourists.
             "We'll see if any of my keys work," he said twisting into the lock.
              Click.
              We stepped onto the bright cream carpet and strained our necks towards the ceiling. The guard prattled on about being on duty during the shooting of the second National Treasure film with "Nick Cage overacting as usual."

              Libraries are amazing places. And I could write several paragraphs about why this is true, but it would be easier to convince you by simply walking you into the doors and leading you to the parallel shelves of musty old paper, glue and ink.
              Darcy gives Elizabeth an indirect complement when he exasperates Caroline Bingley by adding to her long list of qualifications for the accomplished woman saying, "And to all this she must yet add something more substantial: in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading." The following are a few quotes a took pictures of at the Library of Congress. I feel that Austen would concur.

 "The true university of these days is a collection of books."

"Reading maketh a full man [or woman]. Conference a ready man [or woman]. And writing an exact man [or woman]."

 "The chief glory of every people arises from its authors."

Waiting for the Sequel

           The most popular conversation to have with a recent graduate begins something like this, "So the million dollar question is what's next?" I know this now from experience. And I've become quite polished at responding, "I have no idea!"

            Answering the question "what next?" has proved less terrifying than I made it out to sound all semester. Though I still don't have a satisfactory response, or even any plan at all, life keeps moving, and I'm still breathing--despite the fact that I have no papers due and no presentations to practice. I feel a little bit like clothes hanging in the closet, fresh and waiting for the next outing.

 

         As far as the Pride and Prejudice project, things seem to be at a similar junction wondering "Now what?" My capstone was completed with along with the end of school. I had so much fun speaking during the presentation, that I want to keep working with it, although in a different format, perhaps less academic.   

  101 pages when it was all said and done. 

        This week's post has become a mixture of metaphors and pictorial media. My life, at the moment, feels a bit like the ending of a novel. Everything with school was tied up in a neat little conclusion and laid to rest. That sounds a bit morbid. Don't worry, no one has died. But it's different than just a new chapter because chapters are full of suspense and leave you on a cliff so that you turn directly to the next. It's more like the ending of a book, or a section, and I'm waiting for the sequel to come out and hoping it doesn't disappoint. The first book was so good that part of me wonders if the author can top it. I have a feeling He can.

 

People

       "We are very proud and we are very prejudiced," read the graduation card. Another gift came in the form of A Jane Austen Devotional--yes this does exist. 

 

        Saturday, I graduated from college. And the most wonderful part was the host of family and friends there to share in the excitement and joy. Writing one million thank you notes tonight, I realized how incredible it is that people need people.
        Even the intrepid and independent Miss Bennet requires relationship. Elizabeth is dependent on her close friendships with Jane and Charlotte. She thrives on conversation with her father, Darcy, Wickham, etc. She receives the help and support of Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
        All this to note that relationships pull us through the trial and difficulty and rejoice with us in the happy endings and new beginnings.

Rain

        

           She sat inside and watched the rain rat-a-tat-tat against the thin window pain. The parched dust smeared in muddy tears as the water splattered onto the ground. It seemed more like a Christmas finals week than five days before summer break. But the rain felt so good.
          Woosh! Sheets of water poured out of the grey sky which was one big cloud. it drew her out the door and into the midst as blessings showered, drenching through her long hair and down her arms. The fresh water trickled off her finger tips. She lifted her head up and opened her mouth smiling.
          I feel like that. Just sitting, soaking in incredible blessings until your skin has absorbed so much it can't any more and the gifts go spilling right off of you. The power of massive amounts of water is disguised by the tiny droplets which package it. But in the midst of the beautiful shower, the boom of thunder and the stormy air are still frightening.
          Though I haven't done any dancing in the rain this week (although it is a regular tradition on campus, enacted my freshman year), it has poured. Hot Santa Ana winds scorched the earth as the sun beat merrily last week. But the clouds arrived over the weekend with a different plan in mind. And the rain is how my life feels currently, on multiple levels.
          The rain is sad, tears washing the earth. It makes me want to curl in a ball under a blanket to hibernate. In the same way, life is bittersweet. A beautiful ending into an expanse of unknown which makes me want to hide under the covers. If it can't see me, maybe it will go away. Doubtful.
          Rain storms prove frightening. The distant rolling boom resounds in the air. The dark skies cover slick roads. The pouring water drenches my clothes, and there are no windshield wipers to clear my wet eyes.
          But rain is wondrous. The earth cracks and bleeds for it. Like microscopic presents pouring from the air, it acts as Santa Claus for the plants. Like rain, God has been pouring out other blessings on top of me. I sit with my eyes closed and my palms facing up and soak in the overwhelming tide of goodness.
          The forecast predicts an end to the shower--an end to this short but oh so sweet season. That frightens me too.

Life as We Know It is About to End

            Falling asleep last night, I realized that I'd forgotten to write. Yikes! I'm not really sure what to tell about other than the terrifyingly fantastic new that it will all be over next week. I printed out my Pride and Prejudice paper over the weekend and just held it. Like a child that had recently struggled out of a womb and into the light of day, the 100 pages rested fresh and beautiful in my arms.
          While my roommate practiced introducing herself in Hungarian (part of a linguistic assignment), I finished up my last essay for the year and sat breathing. Endings and I share such a bizarre relationship. For the most part, school now seems like an out-of-body phenomenon as things march to the great conflagration of the end. In a matter of hours between falling asleep and waking up at home, the whirlwind of events signifying the end promises to halt to a profound nothingness the next morning. This radical and inevitable shift scares me most.
          But life beyond school has proved absolutely fantastic lately. I've been seeing the grace of alternative narratives (a fancy term I learned in Communication 100 to describe making positive assumptions or granting people the benefit of the doubt). Somewhat like Elizabeth, my critical mind jumps to an explanation for other people's behavior which is more often than not a judgement about their characters. I was pondering how to handle one situation when God said, "Hey, that's my job." Too often, I subconsciously act as though I am the savior of the world commissioned to figure out everyone else. Praise God that I am not--people are weird.
        If you read most of my recent posts, you might assume that Armageddon is nigh and the world is about to end. Honestly, it feels a bit like that. But life continues for millions of college graduates every year, and it promises to move forward for this one too.

"It's never not gotten done before."

         I purposefully postponed this week's post one day in anticipation of relating to you the spectacular views of last night's sky during the peak of April's much anticipated Lyrid Meteor shower.
         However, it's now a day later, and I have no such romantic tale to tell you.
         At school, a foggy sky blocked the heavenlies save for the pale filmy light of the moon above the clouds. So we drove up the hill to try to find clear sky. But the fog moved with us, and we resorted to counting headlights instead of shooting stars. The final score was 84.5 cars moving up the grade and 29.5 headed down. (The half was from a car that turned into a house on the middle of the hill. Don't ask me why I like half cars and half puppies and halves in general so much.)
        Despite the slight disappointment, we had fun laughing and nibbling on chocolate.
        In other news, life as I've known it for the last three years is rapidly winding. The promise that the homework has never not gotten done before is proving true for the last time as assignments are turned in and my life has begun to slow down to a lovely little pace of editing and eating, working and sleeping.
       The project which has dominated my existence for the last 3.5 months is essentially finished--Praise the Lord! My senior project class took its final quiz this morning and learned that our presentations will be held in, drum-roll please...the computer lab? Oh well, at least there will be a computer on which to show our power points.
       Well, this is all the news I can come up with for tonight.

23 Classes To Go and the Cult of Romance

     

           As of today, the blog has collected its 1,001st hit. From this we can infer that either my mom and I are getting really good at typing in the address or that a few other folks in the universe have found it too--which is exciting.
           Also occurring today is the four weeks till graduation mark. This afternoon, I counted 23 more classes to attend before the semester ends.
          In other news, a terrible attack struck the Boston Marathon this morning, and the Lyrid meteor shower begins tomorrow.
          On an entirely different note....
          In sociology class a couple of weeks ago, my professor mentioned a study by Elaine Tyler May called Great Expectations: Marriage and Divorce in Post-Victorian America. May attributes the 2,000 percent rise in divorce rates from the late 19th to early 20th centuries to the cult of romance. Prior to the advent of media, grounds for divorce cited abuse or failure to fulfill the duty of a partner. Only after the Victorians did the possibility of divorce over "irreconcilable differences" first surfaced. Prior to these expectations of romance and personal fulfillment in marriage, couples didn't fall out of love.
          My professor pointed out that people still believe in marriage because most remarry faulting the previous partner, not the institution, for their discontent. This reminded me of a TED talk by Jenna McCarthy (not to be confused with actress Jenny McCarthy). She pointed out that when couples see a romantic movie--where the banter is carefully scripted and things are blissfully concluded before the credits roll--, they often leave the theater feeling discontented with their comparatively boring existence which includes diapers, incessant channel flipping and crock-pot dinners that didn't appear on screen. In contrast, when a couple watches a blood and guts action flick, they return home feeling more than satisfied with their quiet, cozy little life in which no one is running from dinosaurs or dodging jagged spears around every corner.
         As much as we think we want it to be, life is not a fairy tale where Mr. Darcy will eventually learn how to say the perfect words and Elizabeth is carried to a wealthy estate where dust doesn't land and servants would clean if it did.
         Fiction is wonderful, but dreams can also be dangerous. Not to be a glass half empty kind of gal, but dealing in reality can also help stifle discontent.
         As the end of my undergrad looms in just a month, I can sense the dissatisfaction that will invariably hit like a tidal wave two days after commencement. When it is finally over, I'll miss school and romanticize the adventures of the past three years.
         In preparation for the aggrandizement, I've notified my friends still laboring under the weight of college courses and internships to call me and complain about the lack of sleep, lack of showers and other stresses. And then I'll be reminded of how grateful I am to have my freedom and my boring but wonderful little life.

33 Days Till Graduation

Beginning work on my capstone presentation. I'm so excited about this!

23.5 Dogs and an Annoying Amount of Alliteration

        This spring seems to have reached the mental breakdown stage of the semester. So it seemed fitting to shirk all homework and drive to Balboa Park yesterday afternoon. The park boasts plant-watching, artifact-watching and people-watching--something for everyone. Its treasure include:

•  multiple museums
•  pavement performers
• awesome architecture 
• gorgeous gardens, 
• lovely lawns 
• people 
• and dogs

 My roommate and I wandered about counting dogs. Before driving home we counted 23.5--we could not decide if a fluffy toy breed qualified as a rat or a dog, hence the fraction.

In front of one of the Shakespearean theaters which are a part of the park's Old Globe Theatre.

          The strolling and the puppies proved a refreshing rest. The satisfaction from walking and wandering reminded me of Elizabeth's preference for traveling on foot. She shocks the Bingley part when traversing the three miles through the mud. She escapes Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine by canvassing the wilderness at Rosings Park. The women is eventually proposed to on a country road ramble. All of which (especially that last bit) leads me to believe in the benefits of pedestrianism.
        
           More than walking, I think the underlying value of rest is tantamount to the pleasure derived from parks, puppies and being a pedestrian. (Excuse me for the excessive alliteration in this post. I ought to go pen a poem.) 

          Beyond Balboa Park, I spent the entire day breaking from book and papers (drat! Couldn't think of a work or essays that starts with a b). I also slept and painted and read--not textbooks!

Painting Cherry Trees--watercolors on a Sunday afternoon.

                 God created us to rest, so it shouldn't be surprising that we require it. But it still amazes me how different and ready to live I feel after intentionally breaking from the business.

                In conclusion, everyone needs a great park designed for walking attached to their Regency estate. And until then, we can make use of the public ones where plenty of puppies are happy to greet you.

Feeling Like a Fool

Elizabeth Bennet springs from the pages of Austen’s novel as a confidant woman of grace and poise as well as wit and will. Perhaps we esteem her so much because she combines both brains and elegance. She may have a few humiliating moments, but she is socially adept.

I, on the other hand, have more to learn in this respect. On the scale of awkwardness, I sometimes identify more with Mary and Lydia—maybe Kitty on a good day. Today presented a prime example.

Working my afternoon shift in the college library, I was approached by a young man trying to print a paper. The toner in the printer beeped warningly at me, so I hopped to the back room for a new ink cartridge.

Tearing off the cardboard and plastic wrappers, I examined the cap which appeared different than usual. Gleaning from my vast knowledge of copy machinery (cough under breath), I then proceeded to pull this strange cap off. Poof! Black inky dust everywhere. On the carpet, on the printer, on my feet, on my dress, on my arms and on my scarf.

“Wow,” came the whispered exclamation of my audience of students waiting to print. I pressed the cap back on the tube and trotted to the backroom coated in clinging ebony dust.

Reflecting on this recent experience in which a copy machine played a messy prank on me, I compiled a rather short list of difficulties inhibiting the practice of graceful behavior in the present age.

1.      Copy machines.

2.      The impossibility of wearing classy clothing because of the danger of said violent copy machines. 

3.      The fact that women nowadays work in establishments co-inhabited by corrupted and dangerous electronics of various shapes and sizes and delinquent tendencies.

And so ends my woeful tale of this Monday.