unquenchablecuriosity

"I have an inward treasure, born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld; or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give." -Charlotte Brontë

I promised to write more on Jane Eyre after I had finished. It has now been a week and a half since I finished reading. I remember reading the part about her leaving Thornfield in agony. Why would she do that to herself? Exactly what was she thinking? I understand it wouldn't be a story if she had simply married Mr. Rochester, and they were in a position where they could not marry, anyways. The ending was the best and most realistic way for them to end up together, I guess. I couldn't help imagining myself alongside Jane as she embarked alone with no money, no anything. Graduating this past May, I can feel her own sense of wandering and dread when she realizes that she has nowhere to go. I think the thing that I loved most about Jane Eyre was the fact that she was willing to endure hardships in order to save her dignity. She certainly had a lot of self-respect, which is a lesson for anyone. Many times, I think, we don't give ourselves the credit we deserve. We let other people decide how well off or how intelligent or how sane we are. I am guilty of taking to heart what other people think of me, and I shouldn't, as a general rule. I should not allow people to crush my own confidence simply because they do not like me. Sometimes we have to endure our sometimes deluded confidence in ourselves to be able to brave through difficult times. Last night, I decided to read the Grimm's version of Rapunzel. Stephen gave me a collection of Grimm's fairytales for my birthday, and I have just recently started reading ones that interest me. I couldn't help but find the ending strangely similar to Jane Eyre. I wonder if Charlotte Brontë liked the ending of the story and decided to make her own similar ending to the tale. In the story, Rapunzel also goes off and wanders in misery (although Rapunzel does so for seven years, while Jane only does so for days) and then the Prince in the story is blinded as well. He is also able to see eventually and they live happily ever after. Sound familiar?

-Melanie

Lately, there has been no one to talk to. How can I talk to anyone when I feel so out of place? I have been trying to talk about it, and even with people that I have no business talking to, but I know now that even that can't heal what is inside of me. What is going on inside is more than words, is more than tears, is more than fear. I wish I could just climb out the window and hitch a ride to somewhere, which doesn't make sense, but I just like to imagine that I'm a 16 year old girl running away with nothing behind her to stop her from running. I feel like I have so many anchors in my life, so many things that weigh me down to the point where I can't even budge. I don't even think I'm necessarily scared of the future, but I am scared of the person I will become. I already feel myself slipping away from the person I was. Sure, she was flawed, a little more than most people, because she didn't fear showing who she truly was. And sure, she was too desperate for love and yet afraid of commitment, and she was never satisfied, but there was good stuff too. She would spend nights alone looking up at the stars, and spend afternoons looking out at the reservoir reading Emily Dickinson. She could speak her mind, and most importantly, she wasn't afraid to feel, even if it was pain. So many nights, I lay awake and miss the girl I used to be. I grew up too fast, but at the point I grew up, I decided to stop growing and stay true to myself. I was her for so many years, and now I feel her slipping. So many people wear so many faces as they grow up, becoming one face when they are eight and turning into something else entirely when they turn thirteen. I never had those faces, I just had one, for so long, and now I'm someone else. I don't even think I really like the new face. She's respectable around others, even strangers. She shuns away her past, those who used to love her she wipes from her mind like any other person. She doesn't look at the stars anymore. I think I'm more lonely than I ever was now, because I don't even like my own company. I have to look back into old books I love or notebooks I wrote, so that I can feel better. The worst part about this feeling is that no one can ease this. I could search for the most empathetic heart, and it would not help. I have talked to a few people, but even though I will feel good at the time I talk to them, I have found myself slipping back even more, and feeling even worse than I used to, because bringing up the memories just shows how far away I've gone and how much I almost desire to go back to who I was. I thought I was ready to move on and grow up, but who am I kidding? No matter what happens as I grow up, I know I will always regret rejecting the me I started out with. I love the quote in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, when a guy talking to Oscar says, "The mistakes I made are dead to me, but I can't take back the things I never did." I think that is so true. We can forgive what we did, but we can't forgive ourselves for those accomplishments we never dared to try, or never taking up the fight for authenticity instead of conformity. I don't know who I will grow up to be, but I know now that despite ALL of my faults as a kid, even though I am upset and rather embarrassed at some of the stupid decisions I made, I am at least proud that I never compromised who I was to make my circumstances easier or lie to avoid confrontation. Writing this down may ease some of it, maybe, just knowing that it is out there for anyone since talking to someone doesn't work, and rarely works. I think this is why writers are the crazy people they are. Only writers need this constant release, and only fools would write for any other reason.

So, as the title states, I am reading Jane Eyre for the first time this summer. I recently bought a baby pool with my sister, so I have spent most of the time reading it in there. One of my professors told me that she liked to read in her baby pool, and I thought it was a fantastic idea. As for the book, for some reason I was afraid it would be a lot like Pride and Prejudice, which I dislike, but I was told that it is nothing like Jane Eyre, so here we are today. I always thought of posting a blog, but I just never knew what to write about specifically, and then I thought, why not write about the thing I love most in the world: literature. Music might also find its way into these posts, as well as the pains of trying to write with self confidence issues. Anyways, we were talking about Jane Eyre. Right now, I'm about halfway through it, and I am absolutely in love. The character speaks so truly to the seemingly not-good-enough-woman in all of us. I just got through the part where Mr. Rochester and his guests were playing charades, and how Jane despaired over the way Mr. Rochester and Blanche played the game together. What girl hasn't felt that way in a group, as she sees the guy she crushes over point his attentions elsewhere? One thing I love about the book is something that she mentions in the Preface: "Conventionality is not morality." I see that theme throughout the novel and admire it. I feel this way a lot in my own life. I see others play out lives that are obviously not true to themselves. I have always wondered why people aren't just who they are. It seems so simple, and life seems too short to be untrue. In the novel, you see this predicament with those like Mrs. Reed and Blanche, specifically with Blanche. I like that Jane sees through these false appearances and finds no value in it. I can definitely see why bookworm girls all over the world love this book, since most of us, I think, feel the same way, and have to sit on the outside lines while others play their parts because we refuse to be a part of their game. This could all be speculation and only be true of my life, but I have talked to other English lovers, and I feel like they empathize with Jane and me on this point. I also love the interaction between Mr. Rochester and Jane. Charlotte Bronte is very good at involving the audience, as she gets Jane to address the audience from time to time with her "Dear Reader," etc. As I was reading today, I started to get bored while Mr. Rochester had left the house, and then when he came back into the scene, I got all excited, just as Jane does in the actual novel. Maybe I am too empathetic, and should probably considering getting more of a life, so I don't get too involved in a book I am reading, but I always admire when writers make me feel that way when I reading their novel. It is one of the reasons why I want to write. If I can't write a story that will cause others to lose themselves in my writing, then why bother writing? I will let you know what I think after I have finished Jane Eyre, but so far, this reader is in love.