Oh, dear readers, I am quite exhausted.
Indeed, I have just finished writing a paper on the book in title. And turned it in a half hour before the day it was due. Considering I lost about two-and-a-half hours this evening to a work Christmas party, and I started writing it directly after quitting said party and arriving at home, I find it quite rewarding, and I am very happy with it.
Admittedly I stopped caring about the content about half-way through.
I know I oughtn't, but I am severely displeased with how this class has been handled this semester. I thought I could stick it out, thus missing the drop-with-refund and drop-without-failing dates. I don't care, however, as even with a D I will still graduate in the spring, and if I fail the class this semester, I can take it again next semester and hopefully it will not need to be held online. Which was a stupid decision in the first place.
But it did give me a chance to finally read the book that originated a story I knew practically by heart in the first place. It's a really good book, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I actually like it much better than I thought I would, (though that seems mildly unsurprising now that I think on it, as the books are always much better than the movie adaptations, no matter how sexy the man they get to play Mr. Darcy happens to be.)
I did learn some things from reading the book as opposed to watching the movies or television adaptations. As most girls who read the book or know the story, I fancied myself something of an Elizabeth Bennet, or at the very least, a Jane Bennet for years. Years, I say. However, upon reading the book, I find that my character, and indeed my mannerisms (excepting those that come only with fine breeding in the 1800s) to be more like those of a certain Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Which is his first name, if you didn't know. Seriously, how awesome is that? Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam, it's not even a word. It seriously only means that it's the son of William. Which I'm assuming Mr. Darcy Sr.'s name was. Son of William. That's it. Fitzwilliam. But yes, it may not come as a surprise to some of you, especially if you are familiar with the minutiae of the book itself, but my personality is much more that of Mr. Darcy than of any of the other characters therein.
So one day I will meet a spirited young man, with fine eyes, who will challenge me and think me proud and aloof, and will hate me, and I will ask him to marry me, and he will think me ungentlemanly (womanly? I suppose that would be more fitting), and send me on my way, and I shall impart to him in a letter of all that I have been accused of and how it actually went, and then he will gradually fall in love with me, but we won't see each other for a whole year, until I run into him on my grand and sprawling property while he's taking a tour thinking I'm not going to be back for another night, and it'll be super awkward, but I'll introduce him to my sister, and he'll think she's lovely, but he'll like me more, and then awkwardness will resume, but then his younger sister will run off with an Officer in the Militia, who I am well acquainted with, and I will go after them and force them to marry and settle all of their debts, and he will fall for me even more and I will still love him of course, and then in the end, my Aunt will have a major objection to his connections, but I'll still ask him again to marry me, and he'll accept this time, and we'll live happily ever after (well, okay,we'll probably get into verbal spars because we're clever and such, and he's spirited, and I liven up when I'm comfortable, and you can't not be comfortable when you're in love. Pride and Prejudice taught me that) in my huge estate in Derbyshire.
Or I'll move to Seattle and work in a bar and have seven cats and write romance novels, etc. That could work too.
I am so glad to be done with that paper. Not because I don't want to write anymore (obviously that isn't the case, as I just recapped the whole of Pride and Prejudice but with me starring as Mr. Darcy), but because I just want to be done with this stupid class.
I won't be taking the final test until Monday, not just so I can study, but also because ain't no WAY I'm taking it tomorrow. It's open all next week, and I'll probably get out of work early on Monday anyway (and even if I don't, who cares?) and I'll come home and change and go back out and take the test and treat myself to probably Taco Bell because, damn, their volcano menu is delicious. Seriously. It's ridiculously good. Horrible for your internal plumbing, I'm sure, and certainly not recommended if you're sensitive to spicy (it's spicy. And I'm one of those people who likes spicy. It's SPICY), but soooooooo good.
Anyway, I need to stop writing now.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me
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