Currently playing: Enya-May It Be.
I find myself in recent times at constant oddities. In the past week alone, many occasions have passed by me which I would deem worthy and fit to be of blog material. At the conclusion of each occasion, I would unconsciously narrate and dictate in my head all my musings and observations, ready at will to put it down in record upon reaching home, or upon getting online.
Yet, when I’m actually comfortably seated with all the time and words at my fingertips, I find that my previous mentally-made notes simply and stubbornly will not come. That is when I realised that blogging has become a chore for me.
This problem of mine occurs very frequently. I may be doing household or kitchen duties, and whilst being engaged in such activites, would find myself lapsing into a state where the most astonishing amount of words magically arrange themselves to form into sentences which I would have never been able to construct had I actually sat down and thought about it. What is it about writing that you find the most incovenient time to suddenly think up never-before-heard ideas, but cannot produce anything worthy of reading when time is given to actually think and write? Inconvenient indeed!
Forgive my rather structured and formal language. I am finishing Emma, and have watched Pride and Prejudice more times than I care to admit to.
It was in good judgement that I stalled my enjoyment of the latter when it first came out, for I doubt I would have succeeded in getting the whole dialogue out of my head in time for my final examinations.
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Do not take alarm in the fact that the main reason I absolutely cherished Pride and Prejudice was not because of its love story; that comes as a second. Indeed, who can resist the ice blue eyes of Fitzwilliam Darcy, who steals us womenfolk with how much he conveys through the use of such an anatomy alone? He requires no assistance of words to communicate his feelings towards Elizabeth Bennet; on the contrary, I feel his words only supplement his medium.
No; what had captured me was the serious issues addressed in this film, all revolving around the status of women, their desperation and their fear of desolation and poverty. This, as a consequence of the English laws, that women are unable to inherit their father’s estate, was never elaborated in full. It was touched upon lightly enough to shed some light and yet not bear too much weight as to roughen too much the romantic plot of the story. It was not lost on me.
The scene when Charlotte Lucas declared to Elizabeth that she is to wed the rather comical (I found) and insufferable Mr. Collins struck a most saddening and intriguing chord in me. It was her look of helplessness which she unsucessfully endeavoured to mask but was betrayed, mixed with a sort of forced optimism and pathetic patience etched into her features. Throughout the movie, Elizabeth is shown to be deep in thought and in contemplation. Later, when she is celebrating Jane’s engagement with Charles Bingley, she jokes (rather half-heartedly, I dare suggest) of Mr. Collins having a cousin for her to marry. I find that all these moments are linked to one another. An audience may think that she is settling her contradicting feelings towards Mr. Darcy, and although I do not dare allow myself to completely reject this idea, I must be inclined to include that it was also because she was in a state of uncertainty over her future and how she was to fend for herself in terms of maintanence, security and protection.
True, quoth Lizzie ‘only the deepest love could ever persuade me to ever marry, which is why I will die an old maid…’ but as Charlotte had said after Elizabeth’s disapproval of her engagement, ‘not everyone can afford to be romantic’. These words prove to have had an effect on Elizabeth, as she realises that reality requires her to go against her principles, if it means that her welfare is guaranteed. A difficult position, is it not?
Many know how much I adore Elizabeth Bennet’s character, ever since reading the book. I found that I could relate to her in everything, stubborness, prejudices and flaws included. To an extent, she was very much a reflection of my character, save for perhaps her bluntness with people. An observation I made of Kiera Knightley’s acting was how she made Elizabeth look as though all the formalities of bowing an amusing custom. Watch closely enough, and you shall see that she does so out of habit and not so much of finding any meaning to it. I can see laughter in her eyes when she finds herself in a situation where it is an obligation to do so. She seems to be implying: ‘we could do away with all this.’
Do you see what this movie had turned me to be? I have become a wretched, obsessed admirer! I am in dire need of help!
First things first: I must refrain myself from talking like this.
But it was a lovely movie all the same.
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As a result of all this, I am currently at a complete loss as to the recent global issues. I have taken flight from this age, and abandoned it to go frolicking against the movements of the sands of time. Would somebody care to educate me? What further damage has been caused and done? I speak on a pessimistic note, but I speak the truth.
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"Crazy isn’t being broken or having a dark secret; its you or me amplified."
Enough said here.
