Spring
The sun is shining and the temperature is forecast to be in the seventies. So what am I doing sitting at my computer? I must admit that it is impossible for the weather to be nice without me feeling a deep sense of guilt at not being out capering in the sunshine. I blame my mother ("How can you be in bed on such a glorious day?") That isn't fair though. Really, it is Chicago's fault. I mean, everyone knows Chicago has terrible weather. If it isn't snowing or freezing or raining, then it is hot and humid. How many truly pleasant days do we get? Who knows? It doesn't matter, really, because we all perceive that there are relatively few nice days in Chicago so we have to enjoy every single one to the fullest. Can't spend that time writing on your blog or toiling away at a job, there is fresh air to be breathed and a lake front bike path to conquer.
Of course, right now, I can't go anywhere because Julian is taking a nap.
I read Bridget Jones Diary this weekend-all in all, a lot more entertaining than the film, though I find it cool that the only two actors mentioned by name in the book were cast in the film as the romantic foils and Salman Rushdie made an appearance in the film, which he did not in the book. What I hadn't realized (although a character being called Darcy is a mighty big tip off) is how much of a modern day retelling of Pride and Prejudice it is. Except, of course, Bridget is no where near as sensible or appealing as Elizabeth, more like Pride and Prejudice if Lydia were the main character and somehow caught Mr. Darcy's eye.
I am always overwhelmed when reading these so-called chick lit books at how completely insensible (or, to be brutally honest, mentally disabled) the intelligent single girl seems to be. I know that I have no idea about this, as I have been with the same person for twelve years and did not spend my twenties looking for Mr. Right, but how can any woman look at Bridget going on to Daniel about wanting to take a "mini-break" and not think "you pathetic whiny cow"? Yes, she can be witty about her circumstances, but isn't it distressing that she is so obsessed with the idea of having a boyfriend and getting married and comparatively disinterested in the realities of having an adult relationship with another human being? These characters in novels (who women around the world seem to feel are reflections of themselves, and positive ones at that) seem to have the same view of relationships as the average twelve year old.
What all the chick lit books do get right is the very real phenomenon that rejection makes the heart grow fonder. We all have experienced it. The way we find the person who shows us no interest so much more appealing than the one who does and how a suitor's ardor seems to cool once the object of affection has stirrings of affection in return. I witnessed this on the playground yesterday. Julian wanted nothing to do with this very cute little girl who was also there playing. He would push her away whenever she got close (which had me yelping and asking him to apologize, pleas which he ignored.) But instead of deciding that Julian is not a good playmate and should perhaps be avoided, this little girl started running after him with a gigantic smile on her face. I wanted to pick her up and say, "no, you are worth more than that. You don't need someone who rejects you. He is in the wrong here." So I just chased after them, hoping that Julian wouldn't do anything to make her cry. Eventually, another little boy came along and she lost interest in my little monster. Which is for the best because he needs to learn that being mean to people results in them not liking him and not waning to play with him. I know, it isn't true, because (as demonstrated by yesterday's playground experience, the dating experiences of almost everyone I know, and the heroines of chick lit books) we all want what we think we can't have. Perhaps the human condition would bet be described as being in a state of perpetual, but low grade covetousness.
It is only eleven o'clock and I already worry that I am allowing the lovely day to go to waste. The sun is shining and I imagine that life will be so much better out there than it is in here. To quote Helen Fielding, "The more the sun shines, the more obvious it seems that others are making fuller, better use of it elsewhere."
Of course, right now, I can't go anywhere because Julian is taking a nap.
I read Bridget Jones Diary this weekend-all in all, a lot more entertaining than the film, though I find it cool that the only two actors mentioned by name in the book were cast in the film as the romantic foils and Salman Rushdie made an appearance in the film, which he did not in the book. What I hadn't realized (although a character being called Darcy is a mighty big tip off) is how much of a modern day retelling of Pride and Prejudice it is. Except, of course, Bridget is no where near as sensible or appealing as Elizabeth, more like Pride and Prejudice if Lydia were the main character and somehow caught Mr. Darcy's eye.
I am always overwhelmed when reading these so-called chick lit books at how completely insensible (or, to be brutally honest, mentally disabled) the intelligent single girl seems to be. I know that I have no idea about this, as I have been with the same person for twelve years and did not spend my twenties looking for Mr. Right, but how can any woman look at Bridget going on to Daniel about wanting to take a "mini-break" and not think "you pathetic whiny cow"? Yes, she can be witty about her circumstances, but isn't it distressing that she is so obsessed with the idea of having a boyfriend and getting married and comparatively disinterested in the realities of having an adult relationship with another human being? These characters in novels (who women around the world seem to feel are reflections of themselves, and positive ones at that) seem to have the same view of relationships as the average twelve year old.
What all the chick lit books do get right is the very real phenomenon that rejection makes the heart grow fonder. We all have experienced it. The way we find the person who shows us no interest so much more appealing than the one who does and how a suitor's ardor seems to cool once the object of affection has stirrings of affection in return. I witnessed this on the playground yesterday. Julian wanted nothing to do with this very cute little girl who was also there playing. He would push her away whenever she got close (which had me yelping and asking him to apologize, pleas which he ignored.) But instead of deciding that Julian is not a good playmate and should perhaps be avoided, this little girl started running after him with a gigantic smile on her face. I wanted to pick her up and say, "no, you are worth more than that. You don't need someone who rejects you. He is in the wrong here." So I just chased after them, hoping that Julian wouldn't do anything to make her cry. Eventually, another little boy came along and she lost interest in my little monster. Which is for the best because he needs to learn that being mean to people results in them not liking him and not waning to play with him. I know, it isn't true, because (as demonstrated by yesterday's playground experience, the dating experiences of almost everyone I know, and the heroines of chick lit books) we all want what we think we can't have. Perhaps the human condition would bet be described as being in a state of perpetual, but low grade covetousness.
It is only eleven o'clock and I already worry that I am allowing the lovely day to go to waste. The sun is shining and I imagine that life will be so much better out there than it is in here. To quote Helen Fielding, "The more the sun shines, the more obvious it seems that others are making fuller, better use of it elsewhere."
Comments
When I grow up, one of the things I hope to covet in my perpetual, low-grade covetousness is some place beyond covetousness.