damn you, mr. darcy

Is it (the blog) too cute? It might be. But I kind of love it. And I think the cuteness will offset the occasional cursing rather nicely.

I wonder how many times I've written this post.

I have a love/hate relationship with Jane Austen and her men. Darcy, Bingley, Edward Ferrars, Colonel Brandon, Edmund, Mr. Knightley, Captain Wentworth, and, of course, Alan Rickman, Hugh Grant, and Colin Firth. These men are not real. I know this, you know this, and we love them anyway.

I just checked, and the last time Mr. Darcy was referenced on my blog it was 2006. I'm not sure what happened there. Am I regressing? Maybe.

That last post (five years ago?!) was about how I tend to like imaginary men over real men. I have a new theory as of late: I approach all men as if they were imaginary. And by "all men," I mean "available men" or "unattached men" or something like that. The men who I should be considering or hoping that they consider me, they're not real. They're. . . they're Mr. Darcy.

There is a part of me that is insanely frustrated that this seems to be the eternal conversation on this blog. Or in my life. I spent Friday night (a) swooning over HHS's production of Aida, directed by my genius friend,  and (b) apologizing to my (other genius) friend that I was talking about a boy. A boy who is a man who is not Mr. Darcy.

I wonder if all this is my real frustration. Because I have a long list of them right now. Maybe not that long. I'm tired of being alone, but the aforementioned genius friends have alleviated that to some degree. I kind of love my genius friends. I want more of them. I should just clone them, keep them in my linen closet.

So more genius friends. The other frustration is the (lack of) writing and sending writing out since I graduated. I know that there is an easy solution there, but I just haven't been able to produce anything I'm happy with since I left Chicago. I miss that more than Mr. Darcy. I want to write and I want people to read my writing and I want to be a writer. I'm not sure I can say I am one right now.

Oh, the self-doubt. I want to shake it off, go to work tomorrow without anything holding me back. I don't think that's going to happen. But at least I have a cute blog.