Hony Dere
That darn CHAUCER!
And Jane Eyre. I'm all swoony and overtaken by gaddamn Jane and Rochester. I'm right at the moment where she's tearing herself away from him because, goddamnit, it's so wrong to have a crazy, devil-spawn wife who attacks people hidden away just enough so that she can get out now and again and try and MURDER people. Okay, Jane, I get your point...but you should go with it now cause things aren't gonna get much fucking easier.
I shouldn't be so harsh with her. She's got a lot of shit to juggle. But she and Rochester are a lot more romantic than Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy for all their odd Secretary Master/Servant type relationship. I have other things to do and she's being so cold to him.
Not fair. If you love someone (conceding that romance is a fiction made up by some 11th century bint), is there a moral imperative to be with that person that overrides all others as is now the common opinion...or should you lock up your fucked-up ex and accept that sometimes you're just fucking shackled to a deranged Creole woman who likes to suck her brother's blood?
Ah, divorce, such a beautiful word.
I'm wondering about that. My skin feels prickly after the shower like the energy in the air is giving me little shocks.
I'm hoping to be asleep soon, I'm wiped from cleaning this place up and realizing that I'm WAY behind on writing assignments, but I'm already gone mentally, so it's hard to care. I'm Senioritising.
The Bloody Chamber is so damn good too! So many books. I love reading. I hate insipid creative non-fiction stories. But don't tell anyone that.
Blah.
I'm keeping a promise. But it was piecrust, and I'm looking for some stronger shackles. I won't ask Mr. Rochester, though, he ties things up with twisty-ties. Asking for trouble, that man.
