Screw Angelina: Jane Austen, Adopt Me!!!!
I often fantasize about living in eras that are not my own. I have a bordering-on-obsession obsession with the Regency period, (obviously, I'm not alone here) having read almost every Austen novel and seen every adapted-for BBC movie. (Pride & Prejudice with Colin "Darcy" Firth? Awesome.) Today, more than most days, I want to be there.
Fuck cell phones, fuck TVs, fuck IM, fuck computers, fuck answering machines and their evil stepsister voicemail. Fuck e-mail, fuck snail mail (I'll take mine on horseback, thank you), fuck checkout lines, fuck coke lines, fuck bylines. FUCK celebrities, fuck media, fuck car "collisions" (since "accident" implies guilt). Fuck higher learning, fuck airports, fuck taxis, fuck work-related functions. Fuck PC, fuck democracy, fuck peace (thanks, MJ). Fuck trannies, fuck bars, fuck pampered dogs. Eh, fuck it.
Believe it or not, I'm not really in a bad mood. I'm just tired of dealing with all the things that get in the way of my thinking. I need a nice, quiet place to sit, read, crochet, maybe even paint a fucking watercolor. (Those of you who know me, know how very far-fetched this is. I'm allowed to be a dichotomy, dammit.) I need to feel like I'm hearing my inner voice that is only mine, not all the white noise and static of the things we are all exposed to every day. I mean, can I really, please, someone, get through one day without seeing a single ad? No, I cannot. And they won't rest until they acquire the adspace on the backs of my fucking eyelids.
I want to wear heavy dresses that drag the dust. I want to challenge the Regency ideal of feminism. I want to worry about my chances for a financially advantageous marriage. I want to ride horses into a hunt. I want to be treated as a delicate flower. I want to sleep with hot stones in my bed on cold nights. I want to laze away my days in boring idleness.
Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second. Maybe I don't want Jane Austen to adopt me. Maybe I want to be bare-breasted, galloping into battle beside Boudicca, slaughtering Romans and feeling the spatter of warm blood on my body. Yeah, that's better.
Fuck Jane Austen: Boudicca! ADOPT ME!!!