Is PBS cheating?

PBS has been airing The Complete Jane Austen, a series of movies of Jane Austen novels, and one movie about Jane Austen's life, which seems to be in these days. So far, the movies have all been original to the series. I saw the teaser for Pride and Prejudice last week and thought, "Huh. He wants to be Colin Firth." Now I'm watching it, and, no, he doesn't want to be Colin Firth. He is Colin Firth. Instead of producing a new film version, they're showing the infamous miniseries with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. On the one hand, this means I can take it off my Netflix queue (er, this is the part where I confess that I've never seen it, although I have seen at least two other versions). On the other hand, it seems like cheating not to make a new version of this too.

(you just might get it)

A couple of Fridays ago, I read an article on the Yoga Journal website about surrendering to the will of the universe. She talks about trying to write a yoga article and finally said to the universe or whatever's out there, "If you want this to happen, you'll have to do it, because I can't," and then she could do it.

So I thought, okay. When i was doing yoga that day, I thought out to the universe, "If you want me to be a writer, you have to help me."

Less than twenty-four hours later, someone messaged me on Facebook because she's starting a local writing critique group. I thought I'd damn well better do it. I went to the meet-n-greet that Sunday, and sent in a piece for the meeting the next week.

Because I'd thought about putting it out there, I thought I'd get a head start on my February nonfiction reading and check out Po Bronson's What Should I Do With My Life? After I got the invite to join the writing group, I thought I would just dive into it without waiting for a new month. That Tuesday, on the plane, I got to Joe Olchefske's story. He asks, "Where is my generation?" Po says, "Waiting for the pain that opens up its heart." He earlier said, "Joe Olchefske cracked open." I not only thought, but wrote in my one-sentence journal, "I don't want to wait for pain to crack my heart open. I want my heart to be opened without the pain."

On Wednesday, one hour of our meeting was devoted to "stage presence/improv" with an acting teacher. She had us drop our jaws, breathe all the way down into our bellies, and look each other in the eye. She told us to open our hearts. She told us to lead from the heart. I've spent a lot of years not crying in public, so I didn't. I teared up, and when we broke for lunch, I had to take a break from the group and meditate by the fountain.

Asking is powerful. I forget because I don't ask for things that often, and I never ask the universe or God or whatever for them. I've said before that I think of prayer as meditation not supplication. I've always thought there was something not quite right about asking God for things. I've been thinking of what Marianne Williamson says, that "our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." Who am I, I wonder, to ask God for anything? Even now that I've asked and been answered, I can't attrribute it to God. It's the universe, I keep thinking that's answered me.

2008 Dewey Decimal Project: 155.2 B (Bonus Book)

I started Po Bronson's What Should I Do With My Life? in January and finished it in February. Because it crosses the month line, I'm not counting it as one of my twelve for the year, but rather listing it as a bonus book.

It's a very interesting book, not the least for what it says about Po Bronson. In addition to his tales of his own life, he interviews a lot of people from Silicon Valley and the Clinton White House, which certainly tells you something about the circles he travels in.

In addition to what I've already mentioned, he has some other interesting insights, which I'm going to record here because I don't think I'm going to write the entry on identity that I've been thinking about for a while.

My choices were ruled by that fear, but I never would have called it a fear. I would have advertised it as one of the few things that I knew mattered to me. I would have called it self-knowledge. You want to know where your fears are hiding? Tell me what you know about yourself. Tell me what you can't live without. (282)

I thought, "I don't know with certainty who I am. Does this mean I don't have fears anymore?"

Which gets us to the hard part I've been avoiding. Inevitably, getting into an environment of like-minded people, whether it's building your own Grotto or moving to New Orleans or making friends with other social workers or switching to a college in Washington, D.C., where there are other young people interested in politics - inevitably, it means you have to ditch your old support system, family or friends or coworkers or dormmates. You have to inflict pain on people who love you. Oh, they can still be your friends, still love you - but the seat you've saved for them at your Inner Circle has to be given to someone new. And this is never done without the sting of rejection and the collar of guilt. Why do so many people hush the longing to be someone different? It's not because they have to pay their student loans. It's not because the economy is in a lull. It's not because they don't have notions of what they'd like to be. It's because they don't want to be the kind of person who abandons friends and takes up with a new crowd. When is it running away, and when is it the best thing for you? It always looks like running away to those you're leaving behind. (237-238)