This particular communal memory is not so fond a one as "The Christmas Lip Gloss" (featuring pre-literate me slathering roll-on perfume all over my mouth, convinced, despite my mother's insistance that its label read 'perfume,' that it was the same so-cool roll-on lip gloss my friend Lea had) -- a family favourite that footage somewhere confirms -- but it is one that earns a similar sentiment at least from my brother, who enjoys reminding me (and everyone) what a villain I was. In true villainous form, I can never remember the particulars of "The Mother's Day Incident," aside from a general recollection of a mother-daughter feud erupting and culminating in my dad chasing me around the house to avenge my mom in the application of punishment.
I realized something today, as I "reminisced" of Mother's Days gone by, and as I finished Pride and Prejudice, which I'd been reading this week, and it made me laugh. I think most girls read that book (or watch the movies) and relate very strongly to one of the girls, deciding they are a Jane or an Elizabeth Bennet... and while a great deal of me was decidedly an Elizabeth (which I'm sure surprises none of us who're familiar with her), my heart in the end recognized that I was perhaps moreso none other than a real Mr Darcy! I won't be too proud to admit I'm maybe the proudest person I know -- to a fault even. Of which I'm very keen. Headstrong and hardly forgiving, with standards and expectations I know no one might endeavor or dare to grapple for. But I won't say sorry for it just now.
If you're not familiar with the story (which you should be, it's really a witty piece of literature), the most of it revolves around the Bennet family, which features a real ninny of a Mrs Bennet and a resigned Mr Bennet, who form a portrait of parenthood I'm quite glad to've not had to endure (mainly on Mrs. Bennet's side, at least Mr B had humour and cleverness on his). I read a bit today that made me ponder all these subjects at once:
"Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort. Her father captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humour, which youth and beauty generally give, had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind, had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, esteem, and confidence, had vanished for ever; and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr Bennet was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement... Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behaviour as a husband. She has always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible."
These "light" observations of her parents on Elizabeth's end were much compounded on Mr Darcy's end in his consideration of her atrocious connections -- and in all cases struck me, their reader, as being delightfully and impertinently just. Fortunately for me, I am spared the grievous task of assigning fatal flaws and their fallout to my parents (who are both just as smart and savvy as me, I can *proudly* say, aha-hah) ... but unfortunately there are throngs of peers and elders about society who haven't a hope of escaping such observation...
After an extensive period (months I might even say) of my having adopted a more gracious and forgiving (or at least less audibly distraught) temperment, this past week we can thank Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, along with Taylor (not in the book, but a returned coworker and conversationalist) for the revival of my haughty social commentary.
So I thought I would reintroduce myself before launching back into "the book blog" -- because sometimes it's hard to hear the voice behind the words here in the Internet -- and I want anyone reading this to know that I am self-admittedly delighted to condescend with tongue in cheek, as a sort of Elizabeth/Darcy hybrid, and am entirely interested in plaguing a culture prone to assigning and assuming roles that produce nonsensically simple "this is me" excuses for remaining uninformed, or mediocre, or stagnant. And in much the same way 8 year-old Me would hideously remind my mother of an inescapable aspect of "the true meaning of Mother's Day" (that being the consequence of having to wrest and wrangle a heartless hateful child should you choose to bear one), Present Me will not resist the urge to horrifyingly remind you of an inescapable aspect of "just what is afoot here" (that being a whole lot of interestingly ridiculous nonsense.)
I rail not merely with a perfectionist aim of noting failure, or putting down, or laughing at (okay a little bit for laughing at) -- but to challenge our human failure, mediocrity, laziness, and foolishness -- to encourage growth and to spur conversation -- to acknowledge imperfection and to remind my friends (and myself) to take whatever strides may be made toward a less imperfect state. Constant improvement. This is the lens through which I read into all things, and would encourage everyone who hears me to do the same.
But still, all this to make no apology for putting forth the ideas and sentiments I do -- I am and shall remain entirely comfortable entrusting the interpretations of my perhaps "haughty" expressions to their hearers -- in hopes the reception will be of an entertained dare or challenge... (or at least a charmed eye roll)
( sooo not impressed ... )
