The Living Zombie Procrastinates Again!

Dear reader,

I want to post. I want to tell you all about my D.C. trip, and my new experiment that I started today, and pumpkins, and Halloween, and all sorts of other things.

But, right now I'm so tired. So, so brain dead. Between the traveling during the weekend and a lot of schoolwork for the past few days, and another trip tomorrow, I can't focus on a post. And that's not fair to you, or Zola. I need to be able to focus to do a coherent blog post.

Tomorrow I will go on a music trip with choir. And I'll be back Thursday! Hopefully I can update you then on all that's going on. Right now, I'm going to finish packing and go get some sleep. Thanks for sticking with me.

Good things come in threes

Three things on the agenda today. For all of you, that is.

1. First: let me make something clear. The overall view of this blog is to explore Émile Zola's quote, which I talked about in the first post, and how I can live life like that. That does not mean this will be a blog entirely focused on, say, having children.

I'm not going to lie, that would be an interesting blog:

 "Cute guy looked at me and smiled on the way to class today; does this mean we're destined to make babies together?!" "Invited out for coffee! One more step closer to having children WOOHOO!"

No no no no no, dear reader. I don't even know if I want children at this point. I'm in college. I'm not even sure if they allow babies at college. I'm still at the point in my life where the idea of children makes me want to hide in a cave, or better yet, go live in Antarctica. There are no children in Antarctica.

That said, I also won't be starting every blog post with, "Have I planted a tree today? Have I completed my masterpiece?!" Those are goals, dear reader. I'm working toward them, but this is about exploring my life. The actual philosophy of Zola is just an overview. I never really thought about it, but I guess someday, far into the future, if I accomplish those goals, the blog will be done.

I wouldn't have brought this up, but when I wake up and check Facebook before going to class, and the first thing I see for the day is a wall post reading, "Laura, I don't want to have children..." I know I've got some explaining to do. Capeachy? Capeachy.

2. I am considering...an experiment. *thunder thunder lightning lightning DRAMATIC MUSIC*

I can hear you right now: "Way to be elusive with the ellipses, Laura." Silence, reader! I am not going to tell you about the experiment right now, because I want to do research first. HOWEVER! Should I decide to go ahead with it, I'll be sure to blog and tell you all about it. It's pretty drastic (well, for me it is) and involves using myself as the subject. *thunder thunder lightning lightning*

Now that the paragraph of overdramatic DOOM is out of the way, let's move on to #3, shall we? I promise, it's pleasant.

3.

Favorite quote: "But once, in college, I dated a menorah." Oh, Bill Hader. Je t'aime. LET'S GET MARRIED SO WE CAN MAKE BABIES AND I CAN FULFILL ONE PILLAR OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF ZOLA! BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT THIS BLOG'S ALL ABOUT, RIGHT? RIGHT?! ...right?
Have a nice weekend.
P.S. Oh yeah, I'm doing that relatively minor thing this weekend where I TOUR THE WHITE HOUSE.  Think of me in there, chatting up Obama and all. I don't know if we're allowed to bring cameras in, but I'll at least tell you all about it!
P.P.S. Just looked up Bill Hader. He is, in fact, married, and just had a daughter earlier this month. Apparently he mouths hello to his wife and daughter during the closing credits of SNL (and no, I'm not a creeper at all. It was on Wikipedia). Awww. Let's have a gooey family love moment for Bill Hader.

Things I learned in college

...besides what you read in textbooks. You'd be surprised how much knowledge doesn't cost $99.95 at the campus bookstore. (Unfortunately, professors don't seem to buy into this.)

1. Converse may make your feet look cool, a la New Kids on the Block, but they are not good walking shoes. Plan to buy many Bandaids for your blistered feet. And while we're on the subject of shoes, clogs aren't good for long distances or up hills, flats will make your heels cry out in agony and turn purple, and flip-flops get dirty and wear out really fast. Just fyi.

2. Unless you're a naturally filthy person, or you make a habit of this and you stink after three days without bathing, people typically won't notice if you don't shower before going to your early morning class. 

I'm not saying make a habit of it, but if you need to roll out of bed and throw on some jeans every now and then, people don't care. Especially in a lecture hall setting. Repeat after me: THEY DON'T CARE. They're way too concerned about themselves. This rule may not apply if you attend a prep school of 1200 students that judge your brand of sweatpants.

Not to mention, this gives you an opportunity to shower over your lunch/afternoon break, which is a lovely, lovely experience. I could write a whole post about this. You get your favorite stall (and come on, we all know you have a favorite stall). You can take 20 minutes moisturizing, picking out your outfit, etc. You're not rushing anywhere. You can dry off in sunlight. I'd still wear shower sandals, though. 

3. Get to know your adviser. If you don't like him/her, get a new one if you can. A good adviser is the person who will point you in the right direction when you have one of those days where you love the arts but you want to make money and you were good at chemistry in high school, so maybe you should major in that? but you've never taken psychology so maybe that's a good option, but you don't want to waste your elective credits that you're planning on using for sign language and Harpoon Skills 101.

Yeah, anyway, sit down with them. They'll draw you up a plan. Speaking of electives, #4...

4. You can take an elective in almost anything, especially at a big school, like my Typical-East-Coast-Large-Public-University. 

Sometimes, though, you have to be in a certain major, or have a certain prerequisite course. If this happens, beg. Talk to the prof and tell him that your uncle was famous for harpooning whales in Alaska, and you always admired your uncle and wanted him to teach you the trade, but he never did because he thought it was too dangerous and he didn't want to see his niece/nephew get hurt. Ask if you can sit in for a class and have a syllabus. Sometimes, if they see you're putting in the extra time, they'll add you to the roster.

If this doesn't work, cry. That seems to get the job done.

5. You will get addicted to Facebook. Even if you swear you won't. Even if you give yourself a limit to the number of times you can log on per day. Even if you say, "Well, I won't comment on anything, so no one thinks I'm a creeper who spends my life on Facebook." You might eventually break yourself of the habit, but for a while, Facebook will be a good portion of your life.

6. No matter how awesome your classes sound when you pick them out, you'll probably be sick of them by the middle of the semester.

Unless, of course, you're taking Harpoon Skills 101.

Love does, indeed, die

Love never dies.

For you, dear reader, that may be the most romantic thing I could ever possibly type. For you, that sentence may conjure up images such as this:

Or this:

Or even this:

(I hate The Notebook, so I was gritting my teeth the entire time I was posting that picture, but that's another story for another time.)

Go ahead. Have your dreamy romantic moment of goo. I'll wait, before I crush it with sarcasm.



For me, however, the phrase brings this to mind:

(Okay, so I'm a little cynical, let alone morbid. Bear with me.)

But for Mr. Andrew Lloyd Webber, apparently, this phrase conjures up a musical. AND NOT JUST ANY MUSICAL, FOLKS! THIS very special show is none other than the sequel to Phantom of the Opera.

...yeah, I heard your gasp. I don't know if it was a gasp of horror or delight, but it was definitely a gasp. And, like your reaction to the phrase "Love Never Dies" versus mine, we're all going to have different viewpoints on this one. Some of you will be overjoyed. Some will hate the very idea. You can probably guess which category I fall into.

Anyway! As you might have guessed now, the sequel will be called Love Never Dies, and will open in London's West End in March, followed by a U.S. opening in November 2010. There's been a lot of buzz about it lately, mainly because there was a sneak preview at the beginning of the month, as well as a press conference held by Webber himself.

The plot? I'll try to write this without any wisecracks. Ten years after the events of PotO (not the Irish name for marijuana), our friend the Phantom arrives at Coney Island, where he terrorizes Americans. In vain, he hopes that his beloved Christine will come find him and be his, because he knows that...Love Never Dies. Also a major role is Gustave, the 10 year old son of Raoul and Christine.

Wow. I actually typed all that without cracking up.

I can just picture Webber summing all this up at the press conference:

ALW: (in a British accent) ...and so, that's the basic premise of the show.
*clap*
ALW: (nodding toward audience) Thank you, Mum. So, ah, any questions?

Reporter: How much was the loan for?

ALW: ...I beg your pardon?

Reporter: When you went to buy your new jumbo jet, and you realized while counting your cash that you didn't have quite enough, how much did the bank agree to loan you? That is, until you thought up a new crap show to pay it back?

ALW: It was a cruise line, actually. Which reminds me, after the conference, I've got free gift baskets of tea and caviar for everyone.

They also offered a preview of one song, "Till I Hear You Sing Once More," which you can find here, along with the website for the show. I don't deny it would be a very pretty love song, BUT NOT FOR THE PHANTOM AND CHRISTINE, DAMN IT.

I could go on a long, long rant about all this, but I'll spare you, and instead, give you a few study questions to ponder, like those kind you find for reading groups in the backs of your novels:

Study Questions (not to be attempted unless you've read this blog post and seen the preview video):


1. Describe the character of the Phantom. Would he really want to live at Coney Island for the sole purpose of terrorizing Americans on the boardwalk, who are busy buying taffy and all that, when he's really a genius architect/artist/musician/composer/whatever else Madame Giry said?

2. For that matter, how does the Phantom scare people? Jump out from behind ice cream carts with a "Boo"? Takes off his mask under the pretense of trying on Coney Island sweatshirts?

3. Upon watching the video, how did you react when you realized that the Phantom has had his face fixed? If you were Christine, would you leave Raoul for the newer, sexier Phantom? Is this shallow? Why?

4. What role do you think Gustave will play in the new musical? Do you find it a bit hard to believe that a ten year old could travel across the Atlantic Ocean to consort with a mysterious murderer without his parents noticing?

5. What makes the Phantom think that Christine would ever show up at Coney Island to see him again? Or, putting yourself in Christine's shoes, did she judge him too harshly for trying to kill her fiancé and murdering others?

6. And, lastly, how much money do you think this show will make Andrew Lloyd Webber? Will he be able to afford his cruise line? Or is this to gain back some of the dough he lost when he and Sarah Brightman divorced?

Please, if you know the answer to any of these, let me know.

Hey, I enjoyed Phantom of the Opera. I grew up with the music. I saw it on Broadway. I own the movie. In high school, the choir kids and I put on a Phantom-themed show for Halloween. (We were all a bit obsessed, if you want to know the truth.) But this? This is ridiculous.

Case in point: at the press conference, ALW said something like (I'm paraphrasing here), "I was never satisfied with the end of Phantom. When the Phantom leaves, we all want to know what happens after the show. I could picture some people leaving and wanting their money back, saying, 'This Webber guy is crazy!'" Here, he gives a nervous chuckle, at which no one else laughs.

Well, MR. Webber, most of the time I would actually agree with you. However, in this case, the end was the end. No one wanted their money back. It was good music. It was a good show. People wondered what happened to the Phantom, sure, but that was part of his mystery, and we all accepted it. THE PHANTOM DOES NOT GO TO CONEY ISLAND. HE DISAPPEARS. END OF STORY.

Not to mention, if you were that unsatisfied with the ending, Mr. Webber, why would you wait 24 years to rectify the situation? It's not like you have a day job.

Well, I'm done. Except for this, Mr. Webber: People may have very different opinions about your show, but contrary to your belief, some love does, indeed, die.

And I still might go see it. Eventually.

THE BEST BLOG POST OF ALL TIME!

Guys...this rocks my socks.

Actually, so does this:

But really, Kanye, your music is still awesome.

Of Bumbles and Best Friends

So. For the past two days, the Abominable Snow Monster (fondly referred to henceforth as the Bumble, a la Rankin Bass) has been turning my Typical-East-Coast-Large-Public-University into a winter wonderland:

...or rather, a winter slushland. It's so strange to see brilliantly colored autumn trees covered in white, and patches of green grass that those colored autumn trees protected from the Bumble.

Now it's just doing a misty rain thing. Gross.

The good news: I don't have to trudge out to the Homecoming game in this icky wetness (no tickets, and there's no bitterness there at all--I didn't really want them. Shhhh.)

The bad news: My best friend in the whole wide world, who goes by the name of Kirsten, just texted to tell me her planned visit today is not happening. Suddenly my day is reduced to online shopping for Underarmour and catch-up reading.

I can postpone that, though! I'll take a trip down memory lane to tell you about how I met Kirsten (unless you are Kirsten, in which case, you already know). It's kind of an interesting story.

Kirsten and I aren't the typical best friends that met in kindergarten, shared our lunches in elementary school, fingerpainted each others' names in art class, dressed up in sparkle jeans and went to awkward middle school dances together...none of that.

 In fact, the first time she recalls seeing me, we were both at a meeting for middle school choir, and she was annoyed that I was a dumb seventh grader talking during the presentation. Thank goodness we didn't actually meet for two more years.

I entered high school as a quiet (imagine that) freshman knowing almost no one (I'd had the typical eighth-grade-falling-out-with-friends that summer). BUT I was in choir. (Yes, I was THAT kid. Refrain from being judgmental. I actually kind of liked it.) And in choir, we used to have students get up to do warm-ups and announcements and that sort of thing.

One day in September-ish, a tall girl with long, curly brown hair, a cute skirt, and a mellifluous voice taught everyone a tongue twister:

Articulatory agility
Is a desirable ability
Manipulating with dexterity
The tongue, the teeth, and the lips!
(repeat, many times, going faster each time)

(My memory's actually not that amazing; I've recited it many times since for theatre.)

Kirsten and I didn't actually meet then, oh no. That's just when I became aware of her. She's pretty awesome, I thought, to be able to get up there and teach everyone that so easily. (She later revealed she felt like the biggest dork.)

From there, our friendship came together in pieces. I actually don't remember this, but she recalls trying on Halloween costumes at the same time after school in the girls' bathroom and realizing that we liked a lot of the same things. "We're pretty much the same person!" she cried. I vaguely remember being excited about this.

Our friendship was cemented, though, when Kirsten and I, and a few of our friends, stayed after school to chill and wait for the football game that night. (All right, fine, I'll admit it: we were decorating the choir room. Remember, NERDS.) I hadn't been planning to stay, but Kirsten had convinced me, last minute. "You don't really want me along," I'd said, and she and another friend had replied, "Yes, we do." That was all it took.

Anyway! That night we bonded, I found out she was a vegetarian, and we decided that we had to watch Titanic together (neither one of us ever had seen it). A weekend or two later, she came over to spend the night. At 4 AM, we were still up...playing Barbies. Yep, we'd found a tub of my sister's Barbies and were using them to mock everyone at school. That began the first of our countless inside jokes.

The next weekend, I spent the night at her house, and we finally saw Titanic. She might think differently, but I think we were pretty much cemented from then on. Four years later--that's hard to believe--we know pretty much everything about each other, and we never get tired of talking. In fact, we spent most of the past summer together. And we have oh-so-many inside jokes, I don't think I remember them all.

In short, if she was a man, I'd marry her. We're best-friend-soulmates (and I don't even believe in soulmates). And even the Bumble can't stop us.

Oh, and Kirsten, if you're reading this..."I got you coffee." "Yeah, well I got you a pony!"

Snow-Crossed Lovers

Often this fall, as I leave breakfast or walk to my classes, I see this:

(an artistic rendering, of course) and thank my lucky stars that I get to go to a school that's so gorgeous in autumn.

However, smack in the middle of October and two weeks before Halloween, THIS IS UNCALLED FOR, STATE COLLEGE:

That's right. Snow. And I'm not talking a few flurries either--that's a picture from when I went to dinner, and it's kept going since then. And they say it'll keep on till Saturday. It's supposed to stick around until next week, when the temperature will suddenly shoot up into the 60s.

Sheesh.

When I was little, I said snow was God's dandruff (which, in retrospect, is pretty gross). If that so happens to be true, USE HEAD AND SHOULDERS, GOD.

Of course, while I existed in various degrees of dampness and gloom today (the whole "Snow! It's so pretty!" thought process lasted for about five minutes, after which I had to walk several miles downtown to get dresses hemmed. Not a great idea. I actually took the bus there, which I warned you before is an ordeal in itself. For some reason, I decided to walk back, which was an even worse idea.), I couldn't help but congratulate myself for going to see the School of Theatre's production of Romeo and Juliet last night.

I didn't take that, by the way, although I wish I'd brought my camera, but that is a real picture from the event. You can find the whole write-up here.

But really, it was an excellent version of the classic love story, even though I could barely stand to walk away at the end. For the first time, even having performed in it, I felt emotionally connected to the tale of the star-crossed lovers. Of course, it was all senior theatre majors and MFA candidates, so they've been pretty rigorously trained.

Still, though--still. At the end, I felt something tugging at my cynical heartstrings. Also, I think there's something in the original play where the Capulet and Montague families reconcile at the end. They didn't have that here--which leaves the ending uncertain if Romeo and Juliet's death taught them anything. I really liked that aspect.

The reason I could barely stand, in case you haven't read the write-up, is because it was outside--like a Shakespeare in the Park event, except it was at the Alumni Center. They built a stage and a trellis in front of the Alumni House, and for the balcony scene, Juliet sits on a window sill from inside and Romeo climbs up the trellis to talk to her. For another scene in Juliet's bedroom, her bed was center stage and Romeo climbs "in" from the house. Excellent scenic design.

And, of course, there was the surreal experience of watching a show where you could recite every line of a particular character and knew exactly what he would say next. This, of course, was Mercutio, whom  I portrayed in my high school's production last year. (That's a completely different story.)

I actually completely forgot where he came in, until everyone was dancing to the Capulet party (and this was where I wished I had my camera: there was a contagious Mardi Gras feel, with a giant jester's head on a pole, and people dancing a la Sandstorm and singing).

What was it like? Well, first of all, this 'Cush (as people fondly called me) had an awesome top hat. I was jealous. Apart from the hat, it was intriguing to see how the actor--who is an MFA candidate and a TA in my theatre class--took the same part that I had and created a whole new character.

 From Theatre 100, I knew the guy could be funny, and he was. He interpreted some lines differently than I did (he even caught an innuendo that I hadn't and played it up), but I was surprised by how much we did the same. We both had some of the same sarcastic moments, teased Romeo in the same way... it was surreal.

I expected, after seeing it, to worship his portrayal and think about how I could have done this and that...but strangely, I didn't. I think we both played the character well to fit in with our directors' interpretations of the show. For instance, some of the choices he made--like being extremely hungover and hiding from the SWAT team after the Capulets' party--would not have gone over in our version, which was post-Civil War Texas, North vs. South.

Is that conceited, to like his and my interpretations equally well? I was more of a hothead. He was more of a clown. I feel like you could take the character either way. In any case, I'd be fascinated to discuss it with him--and since he's my TA, maybe I'll get a chance to.

I'm quite willing to discuss this more (Lord Capulet, for example, was brilliant), but I won't go on and on--if you want to hear more about it, comment/message me. Trust me in knowing it was well worth losing the feeling in my legs for.

However, their performance tonight was cancelled, due to the snow. What is it with snow wreaking havoc on Romeo and Juliet? Last year, our opening night almost got cancelled and we were missing some actors due to an unexpected snowstorm.

The lesson here: if you want to put on R&J, do it in the summer. In Miami. Or, if you just want to see Penn State's version, go here. You'll have to install Silverlight, but it's not that big of a deal, and it'll be well worth it.

Rumor was they were putting it on at the Playhouse Theatre tonight (a good thing, since Juliet wears a slip for most of the show), and although I'd have loved to see it again, I'll settle for the webcast. A day and night in the slushy snow does not a happy Laura make.

Hail to the Chief

I know I just posted...but I just found out...guess where I get to tour?

Yeah...off to have tea and cookies with my dear friend Barack :D Maybe he'll let me try on his Nobel Peace Prize Medal.

Ugg or Ugh?

I'm not much of one for exercise, but I do pride myself in that I walk a lot. I take the stairs instead of the elevator, I park my car a decent length away from the store (and save myself from fighting for parking spaces), and I take walks with my family. That said, I don't really have much of a choice on this campus. Most of my classes are 15-20 minutes away, and the bus system...well, let's just say that, if I needed to get to the hospital and the ambulance broke down, I'd sooner hitchhike. 

(It actually isn't that bad, but when they say it's 15 minutes between buses, they don't mean five. Or 10. They mean 15. And you know that as soon as you walk up, odds are the bus you need has just pulled away and you'll end up waiting the full 15.)

So, needless to say, I do a lot of walking. Hmm...now I'm curious...let's figure this out:

20 minutes to class (or back) x 6 times per day x 3 days per week=360/60= 6...
40 minutes to class (total; I summed up my Tuesdays and Thursdays in my head) x 2 days per week= 80/60=1.33... add those together...


So, I walk 7 1/3 hours to class alone each week. Not that I mind most days. I put on my iPod, hit shuffle, and people watch. But there's another factor: lately, it's been getting cold. And from what I've been told by locals, soon it will be very, very cold. Joy.


So, I must keep warm. And while I have a coat, gloves, scarves, hats, something else this season has been attracting me...something I previously scoffed at...something it would take 7 1/3+ hours of walking to make me seriously consider... (This sounds like the buildup to a horror movie...)

That's right, Uggs. Previously used by me as the butt of many jokes, such as: "It's no wonder where they got the name. What else would you say when you see someone wearing a shoe that ugly?" Last year, my friend Zoë and I used to spend our senior aide period counting the number of people in the high school hallways who wore them, which we would report to the teacher we were helping out. We called it the "Ugg Count," and laughed many a time about who would spend so much money on such an un-stylish shoe.


Until I tried one on, last March, on one of those icy days that makes you wonder why March isn't just listed as a continuation of February on the calendar. I tried on my friend Mia's Emus (a knockoff of Uggs) at a Starbucks outing, and hot damn, they were comfortable. They let my feet breathe while simultaneously caressing my peds with their soft, woolly goodness. I sighed with happiness...then took them off. But they never quite left my mind.


Now, on campus, people are breaking out the Shoes of Woolly Doom, and I've begun the Ugg Count again. Only now, instead of scoffing, I'm looking at them longingly. Those sure would be some awesome shoes to tramp around campus in, come January and February. And anyway, who says they have to be stylish? I've never been the Fashionista of the World, and no one seems to like me any less. (Side note: If you do, in fact, hate me because I'm not the Fashionista of the World, I'm sorry. Keep reading my blog anyway.)


Writing this, I'm curious how much Uggs are. I'm off to check the website. Be right back.


$140?! Are you kidding me?! This, to the girl who considers Gap splurging. (I'm not kidding--while I'm not Amish, I'm really not the Fashionista of the World. It wasn't modesty.) I'm not going to lie, that new knitted design with the side buttons is pretty darn cute. I'll take a pair in light blue, please. Or maybe I'll just check the Emu site, remembering Mia's tip.


Ok, so they don't sell them directly through their website, but Planet Shoes sells them for between $78 and $89. Not great, but better than Uggs. I'm the type that likes to go against the brand name, anyway, so this might work out.


We'll see about this Ugg/Emu thing. I'd be interested to see what others have to say about them... In any case, I find it interesting that both brands contain "Australia" in their official label. Why would you wear these in the Land Down Under? Does it ever get cold there?

Purely Hypothetical

My statistics prof brought up an interesting point the other day:

Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?

Don't Ya Just Know It (A Case Study in the Blues)

I was going to write a post yesterday about my ridiculous Macbeth notes, or this picture, but to make a long story short, my parents called.



Ok, so that needs some explanation. See, I attend the Typical-East-Coast-Large-Public-University, the kind that everyone expects you to attend because it's in-state (and therefore, affordable) but still pretty well-known for churning out decent degrees in every category you can think of. You know the type. We do the football thing and the school spirit thing and the rolling admissions thing. You can probably think of a few fine specimens, and hey, I won't deny it's a decent education. But that's all I'll say about that for now.

Anyway, I'm a freshman at this Typical-East-Coast-Large-Public-University, and being separated from home and family and all has been a bit rougher than anticipated. I'm pretty tight with my family, and being separated from them for this long, on a campus with about 40-50,000 strangers, has taken its toll. After a visit with them last weekend in which I used up no less than half a box of tissues, I was in no hurry to talk to them again. Of course, that means they inevitably called yesterday:

*Zombie Nation plays on my phone. I look at the number, sigh, and pick up*

Dad: Hi! How's school?
Me: Fine *mumble mumble mumble*
Dad: You sound kind of down.
Me: Just tired. Mumble mumble.
*Awkward silence*
Dad: Well, I love you. Here, talk to your mother.
Mom: Heyhoneyhow'sschoolhow'slife?
Me: Mumble.
Mom: You sure sound down. Cheer up.
Me: I'M FINE [or was until you called] mumble.

I'm having a hard time with this separation thing. Either I'm clingy and don't want to stop talking to them, or I don't want to talk to them at all because it reminds me that I miss them. Needless to say, after that fun conversation, I was in no mood to blog. Or do homework. Or take a walk. Or do anything but procrastinate and grumble.

So, Macbeth/ the mysterious picture at the beginning of the post will have to wait...

"I never saw such a woman."

"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant [Miss Bingley], "no one can be really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved."


"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."


"I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any."


"Are you so severe on your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?"


"I never saw such a woman."


~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 8)

In the movie from 2005, Elizabeth actually says, "I never saw such a woman. She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold," and I actually like that better. Sorry Jane Austen.

I have to admit, I never saw such a woman either, and I've seen many women (and men) I admire. Maybe it's the fact that we're far too busy--women nowadays actually go to school and get degrees and all that--but still, that's quite a bit to accomplish.

Although the character of Miss Bingley makes me giggle, I'm more inclined to follow the philosophy of French writer Émile Zola. You see, once upon a time, earlier this year, I finally bought a copy of my favorite book of all time, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. (More about that later. For now, READ IT.) I picked up the Harper Perennial Modern Classics version, which comes with, "insights, interviews, and more..." in the back.

Along with the biography of author Betty Smith and a piece by her daughter was a short essay by Betty herself, entitled, "Fall in Love with Life." In it, she quotes Zola: "'To have a child, to plant a tree, to write a book.' That, he said, was a full life!" (I should break out the internal citation rules, but I won't.)

I was as struck by that quote as Betty was. In a world of far too much to accomplish, far too many things to do, it really is that simple. A successful life can consist of those basic three pillars: doing something good for the world (planting a tree), completing a work (Betty interprets "writing a book" as, "a symbol for any constructive job, honestly done," and I agree with her), and raising a child. Thank god for that succinct summary.

And so, my mission: to live a full life, by Zola's standard. Some of it will have to wait (I'm not planning on a child anytime soon). And I won't try to carry it out all at once. But now it will be in the back of my mind. Hence, this won't be a blog of, "What-can-I-do-today-to-make-my-life-successful-and-productive-GAH." But it will be an interesting experiment.

Here we go. And maybe, along the way, I'll end up resembling something of Miss Bingley's "accomplished woman." But she still makes me giggle.

Photo from enchantedserenityperiodfilms.blogspot.com