i wish there wasn’t a stigma about doing things alone. you can’t go out to eat alone, you can’t see a movie alone, basically anything fun, you’re looked down on for doing alone and it’s so stupid you shouldn’t need other people to validate your decisions
I refuse to recognize any such stigma (if indeed there is one - I’ve never encountered this idea except from people going “gee, I wish I could do things on my own but that would feel weird”, but that is possibly because I am too busy doing things on my own to notice.)
I downright prefer to do pretty much everything mentioned alone. Travel, movies, eating out, exploring new places: give me autonomy and freedom over trying to match up schedules/likes/dislikes with another person any day.
So, a lot happened yesterday. First, a lot of people responded to a post about Pemberley Digital’s monetization strategy. Then we had a kickstarter update about the LBD DVDs. And then we had a blog post from PD about the state of PD.
I found out yesterday that I’ll be at the Texas Library Association conference in April! I didn’t expect to be able to go, this this is a really marvelous surprise.
Shannon Hale will be there! (I will admit to being slightly bitter that I missed Neil Gaiman LAST year.)
Beyond the awesome library stuff, I’m also really excited that it’s in San Antonio. I’m originally from Texas but I haven’t been to SA since I was a baby, and I’m really excited to get a chance to spend some time there.
What if half way through LBD Lizzie had found a copy of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen’s mostly forgotten about novel, and read it?
She read it and, Holy Shit! It’s her. It’s her life. The names are the same and that’s just weird. She knows her mother has never read this book. But not just the names…but them. They are in this book. Yes, they wear different clothes and for some reason Lydia’s cat is a person, but her name is Lizzie Bennet and this is her life…in a novel.
And a real novel too. She can look it up academic articles on JSTOR about it. There isn’t much. Maybe six? People find the heroine to be flippant and judgmental. The hero too elusive, and the whole love story at the end saccharine.
If this is true then reincarnation must be true, right? Or is she just the figment of some dead English lady’s imagination? Lizzie keeps rubbing her skin waiting for it to go transparent like a hologram. Jane suggests she moisturize more.
Forget her thesis. Lizzie dives into this with everything she’s got. She can’t exactly talk about the book with anyone in her life because…well, because most of them are characters in said book. No, she’s got to figure out how this is possible before she tells anyone. Even Charlotte.
(And don’t think it doesn’t keep her up at night that she ends up with William Darcy…ew ack.)
And then, in all her mother’s glorious and convoluted plans, Lizzie and Jane end up going to Netherfield. Lizzie takes the novel with her even though she knows she shouldn’t. What if someone found it?
She keeps it under her mattress because she’s that unoriginal apparently. She password protects all the files on her computer (and she has a lot - research is the one part of this insanity that feels right.)
She tells herself no one will find out. She just needs to keep playing her part. She makes her videos. She knows Caroline is scheming. She knows Bing is half-in-love with Jane. (To be fair, you don’t need a book to figure that one out.)
And god, don’t get her going on Darcy. That’s the one part of all this she can’t quite wrap her brain around. She knows his weird insults are really him trying to “court” her. She’s read the novel. He likes her…like like-likes her. It weirds her out because she finds him so robotic and infuriating, but also she feels responsible. This is her story and his feelings exist for the sake of the story. They’re not real. She actually feels a little sorry for him because of all of them he seems the most uncomfortable playing his part, a part he doesn’t even realize he’s playing.
(The meta of this keeps her up at night…truly.)
And then one day Lizzie is out by the pool pinching herself just to check to make sure she’s still real and the novel is there under her towel. She’s rereading it to look for clues. When the narrator breaks through and offers omnipresent interpretation, is that Austen? Is that like hearing the voice of God? Maybe if she retypes those parts out there will be a clue…like a code.
So she’s outside soaking up sun, trying to make sense of this in her brain, and she falls asleep. She falls asleep for just a few minutes, but when she wakes up Darcy is there. He sits on the chaise lounge next to her and he’s reading the book!
He’s reading it and smirking. Lizzie makes a noise that resembles a cat coughing up a hairball and he looks up.
"Oh good," he says, "now that you know too, we can finally talk."
There are heated discussions going on in the comments and comment fics that I am loving!
I don’t usually read fic. But this is so awesome.
In the perfect-hindsight universe of my imagination the LBD kickstarter would not have been for the (attempted) creation of DVDs. It would have been to hire everyone to come back and create a version of this.
I’ve gained some really awesome new followers (hey, awesome new followers!) and I just wanted to let this small personal note loose in the world: I’m in the middle of an unexpectedly busy season of life right now, and am finding it harder and harder to keep up life in general and my beloved online world in particular.
Just for now, I’ve cut down on the number of tumblrs I’m following. So if I haven’t followed you back, please know it’s not because I don’t want to. With luck things will be more settled soon and I can go back and follow all the wonderful people I’ve missed.
I’m not sure they realize how incredibly unhealthy they’ve made Izzy’s marriage appear (it’s partly a cost of having only Izzy appear in the show, but really that only compounds the apparent misjudgment in the writing). You need to be extra careful…
My son and I are shaving our heads to raise money for St. Baldricks which raises money for research for childhood cancer. Did you know that less than 4% of the general budget for cancer research goes towards pediatric cancers? Cancer is STILL the #1 disease killer of…
Hey breastfeeding moms/advocates: my local gym (owned and run by the city, so it’s a part of the local government) recently put up a new sign in the women’s locker room. I should have taken a picture, but the paraphrased version is this:
To keep other people from being uncomfortable, we invite breastfeeding moms to use our designated breastfeeding area or use a nursing cover.
I believe the “designated breastfeeding area” is the child care room, which, while comfortable and friendly, is usually crowded, noisy, and located at a fairly inconvenient spot.
This sign makes me mad every time I see it, and if there are legal protections for breastfeeding that they’re violating, I’d love to point this out and see if I can get them to take it down.
Edited to add: My state has a law on the books stating that “Mothers have the right to breastfeed anywhere they have a right to be.” What I don’t know is if a business (or in this case, local government) has a right to ask them to cover up.
“Episode 4 saw the words Bad Wolf appear for the first time. I just made it up on a whim, cos I liked the idea of the TARDIS being graffiti’d. But then I spent the rest of the episode idly wondering who that kid was, why he wrote those odd words. And, having dismissed notions of Evil Super Villain Kid, a plan began to form, in mid-production. Knowing that Rose would become the Time Goddess at the end of the series, I wondered if a Time Goddess would imprint herself on the universe, creating things in her image, like the face of Jesus in a bagel. Better still, these signs would actually summon her into existence. That’s the sort of thing you think about in this job, late at night. And then I worked backwards, inserting Bad Wolf references into almost every script. Funnily enough, I never told anyone what I was doing, in case it didn’t work, but the design department picked up on it—they didn’t even ask what it meant, they just offered to stencil it on Captain Jack’s bomb, in German. The idea spread without anyone knowing what it meant. Which is very Bad Wolf in itself.”—Russell T Davies, Doctor Who: The Shooting Scripts (via timelordsandladies)
“There was no harassing restraint, no repressing of glee and vivacity with him; for with him I was at perfect ease, because I knew I suited him well […] It brought life and light to my whole nature: in his presence I thoroughly lived; and he lived in mine.”—Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte
“Of course, the ultimate moment of being Female in Public comes when a woman, deep in thought, is told by a strange man to SMILE. (And this happens only to women.) Gentlemen, let’s get this straight. There is no part of my body that belongs to you, not even my facial expression. Stop trying to stake out territory there, whether by legislation or verbal imperative. Plus, it never produces the desired effect.”—
When Jane said, of all the books in the world, she would want to read “Little Women” FOREVER, I was unimpressed.
Of ALL the books? ALL OF THEM?
I love Little Women, okay, I do. It’s a great book which I reread, it has stood the test of time for…
I just assumed it was a comfort book for her - she read it as a child and latched onto the feeling of family (and especially sisterly) love that her own life lacked. And now each time she reads it, she feels the same warmth of the only moments of love and home and family that she knew in her youth
I just finished rereading Jane Eyre for what is probably the fifth or sixth time in the past 10 years. As ever, each time I read it I find different aspects of it new and fresh - and find many new passages that strike me as particularly beautiful, well-written, or meaningful. (You’ll see some of these sprinkled here throughout the next few days.)
Spoilers for Jane Eyre (and St. John/SJ speculation):
I had never appreciated the power and intensity of prayer until I prayed with nuns.
On the surface, praying seems easy. Knit your eyebrows in concentration, mutter a few words, then get on with your day. It’s not like that in a convent. Think of the hardest job you could do - mining comes to mind - and then imagine doing that in silent and in a dress.
Every day the sisters descended into the Pit of the Soul, picked at the seam of despair, sadness, tragedy, death, sickness, grief, destruction, and poverty, loaded it all into a card marked “For God,” and hauled it up from the depths of concern to the surface of mercy, where they cleaned it and polished it. It was heavy, laborious work.