Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I don't want to feel better. I don't want to brush it into the corner of my mind. I don't want to stop crying about the millions of ways people destroy their own lives or literally destroy the lives of innocents for whom they've been made responsible.
I long for revival, but I am not on my knees enough praying for it or on my feet enough fighting for it. God help us.
Monday, January 25, 2010
In keeping with Austen's incredible understanding of human nature, every attempt is made to flesh-out and delineate characters who, in former renditions, never received more than a passing nod as a plot device or behavioural caricature. Miss Bates, for instance, is not simply written-off as a horrible prattler, but backed up with all of the insecurities and sadness that would explain her quirks; Mrs. Elton- often portrayed as a plain-looking, buzzing annoyance akin to the inconvenience of a housefly- is beautiful, arrogant, and almost devious in her snobbery and ill-will towards Emma; Mr. Knightley's brother confronts life with a largely cynical outlook and dry sense of humor, which combats the insatiable nervousness Isabella, Emma's sister, seems to have inherited from their father. Romola Garai gives the lead character an intense animation and zest for life that self-absorbed Gwyneth Paltrow could never have mustered, and though Johnny Lee Miller's Knightley is, admittedly, neither as dashing nor as humourous as the one I grew up watching, as Lizzy puts it "He grows on your like a wart," which is fitting for a leading-man who *isn't* the leading man until the end of the story.
In all of Austen's work Emma has always been the character who I most relate to and who makes me most uncomfortable.
My family always accused me of being an Emma, with my annoying need to match-make and unfortunate knack for never being able to hold my tongue. She is probably the most vulnerable and awkward of Jane's leading ladies, unbalanced, with a desire to help people which is always hampered by her own snobbery or impulsiveness. There were multiple times while we watched this when I had to cover my face in shame while my sister looked at me with that "You have SO done that" expression. When I first watched the Gwyneth Paltrow version the comparison was almost flattering, as Emma took on a "practically perfect in every way" sort of persona, whereas this version --which is most true to the book-- just makes me squirm. That brings me to my question,
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
If I were a month, I would be July.
If I were a day of the week, I would be Tuesday.
If I were a time of the day, I would be early evening.
If I were a planet, I would be Uranus, rolling around sideways-- the oddball.
If I were a sea animal, I would be a pink aenenome.
If I were a direction, I would be North-West.
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a striped chaise longue with peeling brass finish on the legs.
If I were a liquid, I would be olive oil.
If I were a gemstone, I would be the purpley-green version of Topaz.
If I were a tree, I would be an apple tree: Not thin and stately like an Aspen, or old and wise like an Oak-- Unremarkable, but nice to have around.
If I were a tool, I would be a level.
If I were a flower, I would be a yellow Pansy wishing she was a splashy Tiger Lily.
If I were a kind of weather, I would be a freak snowstorm...easily flurried around, but quick to calm down and melt.
If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a harmonica.
If I were a color, I would be navy.
If I were an emotion, I would be argumentative.
If I were a fruit, I would be raspberries.
If I were a sound, I would be the click-clack-clunk sound of an old typewriter.
If I were an element, I would be Helium (He).
If I were a car, I would be a green Jaguar E-Type.
If I were a food, I would be a potato.
If I were a place, I would be an abandoned greenhouse.
If I were a material, I would be cotton.
If I were a taste, I would be a little salty.
If I were a scent, I would be basil.
If I were an animal, I would be a goose.
If I were an object, I would be a picture frame.
If I were a body part, I would be the thumbs.
If I were a facial expression, I would be intrigued.
And, on a side note, though it's not necessarily new (it's been out at least a year or so), I just discovered this cd:
..and I am completely in love. Partly because the "She" is Zooey Deschanel, who I think is utterly amazing, both for her roles (aside from 500 Days of Summer, which was a bit of a letdown) and her incredible sense of style: