Sometimes I Write Things...

OOTD: Sunday, August 27, 2017. It might be 93 degrees outside, but I am SO ready for fall.

Again, it’s been for-freaking-ever since I’ve posted an ootd. Every time I look in the mirror and think “damn I look good, I need to take a picture of this” I either get distracted and don’t ever end up taking the photo, or I take the photo and then forget to post it.

This photo is from a week ago. August 2, 2017. I was trying to figure out different ways to wear this top, which is a different color and cut than I generally wear. I realized the orange color was very similar to the orange in the jogger pants I bought over a year ago, and decided to try them on together. I ended up wearing this outfit for the day. It was cool and comfortable on an excessively warm day here in the PNW.

The first night that we slept together -- and I mean truly slept together, no sex, no fondling, just sleep -- you put your arm around me. It startled me at first. I wasn’t expecting your touch in my half asleep state. After all, we had been laying there in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, waiting for sleep to come. Your arm was heavy, like a large log outstretched across my back, pinning me down.

I quietly laid there in the silent darkness of the room with my eyes closed wondering what you were thinking. Did you realize the gravity your arm possessed? Was there a purpose to the placement of your arm? Were you conscious of the change in my breathing? Did you notice that I stopped breathing, and then made an extremely sad attempt to control my breathless lungs to breathe at a steady rhythm? Did you discern that I was no longer drifting off to sleep? Or were you just sleeping the entire time, blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging in my own head?

A letter to my ex-best friend.

Today is your birthday. Its been about a year and a half since we last seen one another, and nearly three years since I've called you my best friend. That being so, I still have some things to say.

During my 26 years of life, I can count on one hand the number of people I have called my Best Friend. And you were one of them. I remember the first time I met you: freshmen year of high school, "band camp", to be exact. I was standing, alone in the corner of the band room clutching the handle to my clarinet case with both of my clammy hands. I had showed up embarrassingly early, and had the terrifying experience of watching everyone else arrive. I was scared that I wouldn't make friends, that I wouldn't know anyone, that I would be left out. I wore a sweater, despite the late August heat, because my 14-year-old self always felt the need to hide beneath layers hoping to go unnoticed. You sat in a chair on the other side of the large room, wearing an orange t-shirt and a pair of men's black basketball shorts. You were surrounded by a group of people that I would later learn you knew through your older sister, whom was also present. Your voice carried throughout the room, booming and infectious. As more people began to show up, I saw that they all kept gravitating toward you. Your pull was so great that before I knew it, I too was standing next to you. And from that moment on, we were friends. We spent nearly all of our freshmen year together, inseparable. Our friendship was never smooth, nor was it always turbulent. Like most friendships, ours had it's ups and downs, and it even sometimes looped around. But we always found a way to fix it, except when we didn't.

I want to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that we couldn't fix us. I'm sorry that our friendship turned toxic. I'm not entirely sure what happened to us. One day we were fine, the next we weren't. It felt as if you decided overnight that you no longer wanted to be my friend. But you wouldn't just say that. Instead, you wrote and said hurtful things about me to others and I let it happen. We had plans, plans that could have been cancelled, but money was spent, and promises were made. So we ignored the issue; we buried it in silence and anger. We let it fester until it broke us. I wish that I could have talked to you about it, about how I felt. And I'm incredibly sorry that I didn't. Perhaps if I had, we would still be friends. I'm sorry that I waited for an apology without ever considering that I most certainly should have given one as well. I'm sorry that I let your believe our falling out was due to money. But most of all, I'm sorry that the majority of our core group of friends seemingly chose my side. I didn't have much of a hand in their decision, but I should have told them it was alright, that they didn't have to choose a side. And for a while, we tried to co-exist, but our not talking changed the entire group dynamic. Which made our falling out even harder.

I want to say that I miss you. I miss you a lot. Sometimes I think about calling or texting you to say happy birthday, or to gush about a guy I'm seeing, or just to see how you are doing. Sometimes I even get so far as to type out a whole text, only to delete it moments later, because I don't know how you would respond. That night, when we last spoke, was when I realized just how much I missed you. We sat in the kitchen, drunkenly eating grapes, talking about things as if nothing had changed, and no time had passed. You encouraged me to flirt with that guy, and the next morning all I wanted to do was text you about everything that happened. Like old times. But the small cloud of reunion mist passed, and we went back to not talking any more.

Lastly, I want to say thank you. Our breakup was the first of many serious adult decisions I have had to make in my life. I could have remained a doormat, taking your passive-aggressive insults to heart, and then allowing you to turn around and be nice to my face. But I couldn't. I chose to walk away from our friendship for me. Because it wasn't the first time and I knew it wouldn't be the last so long as we stayed friends. But I also want to thank you for all the good times we shared. Like that time we mildly got lost in Seattle. Or that time we got the car stuck in the sand at the beach. Or any time in between. Thank you for being there, when no one else was. Thank you for being my first friend at a time when I was unsure if I would make any. Thank you for making me the person I am today. I can honestly say that our friendship and it's subsequent demise has shaped me into a person that I otherwise would not have become. You made me strong in ways that I never thought I could be, and I will forever be grateful for that. I also wanted to say thank you for reaching out after my grandma died. It truly meant a lot to me to know that you still cared at a time when I was convinced you hated me. And most of all, thank you for being the best friend I needed at that point in my life.

I guess the point of this was to tell you that just because we don't speak anymore doesn't mean I've stopped thinking about you. In fact, I think of you often: every time I see something Hello Kitty, or when I'm driving behind a mini cooper. I think about you every time I run into someone from high-school and they ask how you are, so sure that we are still thick as thieves. And it hurts to admit that I haven't spoken to you or heard from you in ages. Or to admit that you still have me blocked on social media for reasons I'm still not sure of. I think about you when your name pops up on my Facebook feed by one of the many dozen friends I know we have in common.

I really do wish you all the best in life. I hope you have someone in your life you can call your best friend, and I hope that they are there for you 100% of the time. I want you to know that I don't hate you, that I never truly did. I miss you and I love you, and I will always be here if you need me,

Happy Birthday,

Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld

Publication Date: April 19, 2016 Pages: 492 Goodreads Rating: 3.71 Goodreads Summary: This version of the Bennet family—and Mr. Darcy—is one that you have and haven’t met before: Liz is a magazine writer in her late thirties who, like her yoga instructor older sister, Jane, lives in New York City. When their father has a health scare, they return to their childhood home in Cincinnati to help—and discover that the sprawling Tudor they grew up in is crumbling and the family is in disarray. Youngest sisters Kitty and Lydia are too busy with their CrossFit workouts and Paleo diets to get jobs. Mary, the middle sister, is earning her third online master’s degree and barely leaves her room, except for those mysterious Tuesday-night outings she won’t discuss. And Mrs. Bennet has one thing on her mind: how to marry off her daughters, especially as Jane’s fortieth birthday fast approaches. Enter Chip Bingley, a handsome new-in-town doctor who recently appeared on the juggernaut reality TV dating show Eligible. At a Fourth of July barbecue, Chip takes an immediate interest in Jane, but Chip’s friend neurosurgeon Fitzwilliam Darcy reveals himself to Liz to be much less charming. . . . And yet, first impressions can be deceiving.

Thoughts:

Pride and Prejudice is my all time favorite book. I’ve read it many times; I collect random editions I come across in stores (totaling 9, at the moment), and reading every adaptation that catches my interest. Now, working in a Barnes & Noble, I come across quite a few, and when a giant stack of shiny red-clad books were placed in front of me to apply the little “30% off, members save an extra 10%” stickers in the upper right corner, I couldn’t help but notice across the top was written A modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice. Monday nights are when we change what books get the percentage off stickers because we are usually dreadfully slow. We aren’t technically supposed to read on the job, but after stickering and unstickering all the necessary books, I couldn’t help but sneak a peak. I read the first 7 chapters before my shift ended and we closed the store that night. Now, that’s not saying terribly much because all the chapters are extremely short, most being only a page or two in length. I came in the next day, on my day off, to buy it.

Everything that I loved about the original, Eligible tries (mostly successfully) to imitate. The wit and humor is on par, but rather more obvious, which is what one would expect in a modern adaptation. I thought it was interesting that the reason Mrs. Bennet knows of Bingley, isn’t just because he’s rich (although, she loves pointing out how his family started a mining company), but because he starred in a fictitious version of The Bachelor. And Google is very much a thing in this modern adaptation, which I loved when Liz decided to do a google search for Darcy:

FITZWILLIAM DARCY ATHERTON, CA, Liz typed into Google, and after reading through the results, she tried, sequentially, Fitzwilliam Darcy Harvard Medical School, Fitzwilliam Darcy University of Cincinnati Comprehensive Stroke Center, and, just for the hell of it, Fitzwilliam Darcy girlfriend.

And sticking to “most eligible” stereotypes, Darcy is a neurosurgeon, graduated from Harvard Medical School, and is insanely rich. Liz, herself, notes that if she didn’t despise him so much even she might be tempted to date him.

Kitty and Lydia are far more vapid in this retelling than in any other I’ve read. Instead of being silly and young flirts, they intentionally seek out to verbally abuse everyone around them (Lydia more so than Kitty). They’re vain and self-serving, which makes Lydia’s fate rather confusing, but also her only redeeming quality.

The character of Wickham was split into two, which I thought was an interesting choice, one that took me nearly 300 pages to realize. I was literally sitting there thinking to myself “when is Jasper Wick going to cheat on Liz with her youngest sister? Will she cheat on Ham with him?” when it hit me: Jasper Wick and Hamilton. duh. Anywho... I felt that Jasper’s “crimes” and the reason Darcy initially dislikes him to be rather dull. They seemed more like reasons for Liz to hate him than Darcy. And honestly, Ham felt too nice and too charming for Lydia to deserve. 

Overall, I really enjoyed this retelling. I only had three things I extremely disliked about the book:

The story as a whole was incredibly wordy. There were many unnecessary tangents thrown in, I believe, in a misguided attempt to pay homage to Jane Austen’s writing style.

The word “said.” There are a million and one ways to let your reader know a specific character is saying something without directly stating so. I had thought about counting the number of “said” words, but after I hit about 80 in the first 10 pages, I gave up and just started skipping over the word mentally. Although, it does get slightly better around the 350 page mark.

The last chapter. Don’t get me wrong, I thought the adaption did a wonderful job of creating a real character out of Mary, one with depth and more than three lines, but to go inside her head and answer questions that I don’t think any reader wondered was a bit left field for me.

My Rating: 4/5

Me: Yeah, i think it's about 500 pages.

Person: Oh, so you're reading it for school?

Me: No, just for fun.

Person: But it's 500 pages?!?