Not Yet One and Twenty

Aah, Austen. My sister and I have just finished the annual viewing of the Pride and Prejudice minseries, and I wish that like Miss Bennet, I could refer to myself as “not yet one and twenty” instead of telling people all the time that no, I am indeed not twenty-one.

It’s some sort of sick ritual, this fully interactive movie watching. I still yell at Mr. Darcy in the first two scenes, and every time that their mother speaks, pillows on the couch get punched, squeezed; the trip to Pemberly is always a surprise, and the ending deliciously drawn out and repressed. I remember the very first time I watched it, the summer after 10th grade, after a sleepover at a soccer friend’s house when we started the first tape at noon after brunch, and stayed glued to the couch until the sun had set. Everyone seemed so much older then, so much more mature and worldly.

After reading the book several times, it’s still hard to believe that now I, like Elizabeth, am not yet one and twenty. I suppose that everything was distorted back then, as far as ages goes, and social norms for that matter. The fact that a girl living alone with her boyfriend could cause irreprable ruin to an entire family’s social status seems laughable now, making the timelessness of the whole Mr. Darcy/Miss Bennet thing that much more impressive. True, as far as the A&E thing goes, a lot of the appeal has to do with the performances, Colin Firth himself, and the lovely Jennifer Ehle.

I’ve now indulged my more girly tendencies (which I’m not *always* ashamed to own up to), and now have a date with the Dremmel to work on the car. Sparks will fly. Literally. Doesn’t it say somewhere that girls who can operate power tools are cool? I sure as hell hope so.

Mmm, snacks of fresh cherry tomatoes from the garden; it really must be summer =).

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