EF you, Jane Austen.

(this is a print by Yoshitomo Nara.)

Yeah, so I'm tipping towards the bitter part of springtime. The part where new things grow and birds are chirping and everyone is just so fracking happy. Great for you.

To begin with. It was an EPICALLY CRAPTASTIC week for me. I mean, I don't want to overstate the point, but lets just say I am amazed that it didn't launch me into a week of staying in bed watching the home shopping channel. You know, I have a lot of things that make me happy; my friends, my students, my cats, painted toenails, wearing flip flops in March. Those things definitely get me out of bed. But recently I've had a spate of hard times. I'm easy to cry. I'm up in arms angry a lot. I end the day sitting in my disappearing chair watching "Larkrise to Candleford" and playing Angry Birds. It helps.

In a very grand test of my will, emotional strength and sanity, I joined an online dating site. For more on how I feel about that, see the above photo. I haven't gotten any responses to my profile since I started a week ago. Hmmm. Okay. Maybe I am putting out vibes that I'm really not interested, maybe I listed one too many highbrow interests in my profile, maybe I'm just not cute. Maybe I don't really believe that there is a guy in the world who will ever like me for me. Last night we had our Jane Austa-thon, a bunch of high school girls sit in the library overnight and watch Jane Austen movies and eat scones. Girls who watch Jane Austen movies and read the books are doomed. Men are either Wickhams or Wentworths (rakish players or nearly perfect paragons of aloof but gorgeous charm). Yeah, good luck with that one, guys! But the way Austen writes about love is kinda the way I would write about skydiving; I'd love to do it, and I could watch it all day, but there is hells no way I am jumping out of a plane. You with me?

All I ask of you, dear reader of my blog, is that you send up a prayer for me during the next six months. You don't have to give me advice or tips or tell me how awesome I am. I've heard it. Pray that I would stop beating myself up. Pray that my cynicism would dissipate. Pray that when he emails me, I would not write him off as a goober who smells like soup. Pray that I would have an open heart. Pray that I would stop hibernating when the sky falls in. Thank you.