Not the time – that’s reserved for Hamlet. My mind is out of joint. There is just a LOT going on. OK, not really… but there’s a lot coming up that I have to arrange and plan.
Got a referral from my dentist for wisdom tooth extraction. I called today and made an appointment, but just did my research online and found that this oral surgeon does not accept my new insurance. He only accepts ONE “brand” of insurance, actually, so it’s not that I have cruddy insurance. SO. Tomorrow I have to call the oral surgeon and cancel my appointment and then try to make an appointment around the same time with the new oral surgeon who DOES accept my insurance. Also, my dentist doesn’t take this new insurance either. So I am going to have to find a new dentist.
Report on “Middlemarch.” It’s so much better than I ever anticipated. I might have discovered a new beloved 19th century British author. Honestly, though, it’s not hard for me. The minute people cast meaningful glances over cups of tea or handkerchiefs and it’s considered scandalous for a gentleman to come a’callin’ when a woman is alone in the sitting room, I am mush. Just like I get all mushy every time I read “Pride and Prejudice” or watch the A&E miniseries and Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett have their heated marriage proposal/argument/refusal… you know the bit? Where Mr. Darcy “breaks down” (ha! as if…) and admits to Elizabeth,
In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
Melty melt melt. Especially since the A&E version has Colin Firth playing Mr. Darcy and Jennifer Ehle as the perfect Elizabeth Bennett. I get all melty just from reading it at this point.
Thankfully, “Middlemarch” hasn’t had anything NEAR that level of sentimental foo-foo. There is an unhappy marriage, flirtation (again, in “handkerchiefs and teacups” fashion) and well-to-do young men with debts they are hoping to pay off with inheritances yet to be bestowed upon them. Still, it’s well written – the narrator has a great little attitude and tone. Yippee!
On the train ride home tonight, I forget what I was reading or listening to or doing, but I thought more about some of the things I wrote about earlier this month… regarding women having a sense of humor, intelligence, etc.
B.N. This is a broad generalization and might offend some peeps. This is why it’s just an idea – not even a theory or belief of mine.Another thing I thought about today was the idea that guys are attracted to either “hot” girls (and the definition of this term varies widely and greatly among men) or girls who are, in my phraseology, “wounded birds.” This “wounded bird” syndrome might be a physical weakness like a limp or chronic illness, or a “defect” as simple as gap-teeth or something more like mental or emotional instability or trauma… experiencing something tragic in life, etc. The hot girls inspire jealousy in other men, and the “wounded birds” really bring out the protective alpha male in a guy because they are symbolically (by being different or not traditionally beautiful) or sometimes authentically weakened and require protection from a male guardian/lover/slave(?).
Girls who aren’t hot or wounded in some way – who can fend for themselves and at worst have the occasional sad day – are stuck in the same hell that’s reserved for “nice guys.”
Also, it should be noted that if a girl is a seriously wounded bird, truly f’ed up in the head or miserable to be around, chances are she will find someone anyway, but that this individual will be equally f’ed up in the head and will need and thrive upon this messiness of mind.
I could be entirely wrong, but these are my observations.
There was something else I was thinking of and wanted to jot down when I was driving, but I wasn’t stopped at a red light long enough and I don’t cotton to leaving myself voice memos on the cell phone. My brother does that and it just rubs me the wrong way. I also hate hearing my own voice, so that has something to do with it. But leaving messages for myself just seems sort of… weird. Almost dirty. Or just bizarrely “Memento”-esque.’Tis 11:16. I want to catch the early train tomorrow, so I’d best be off to sleep. “Middlemarch” for a few minutes, though.