Today I am not going to school because my brother is feeling too tired and unwell to drive me. I feel partly guilty because my biology lab TA told me I shouldn't miss any more labs. I really wanted to go today-I printed out the lab for nothing.
All right I did Not really want to go, but I was fully prepared to force myself into it. Which for me is pretty out of the ordinary. I fear I am no longer a studious creature, not even in the most remote sense.
I've been writing a lot of bits of scripts lately. It's funny that I remember when I was younger, everything I wrote was about young women or girls in England or New York. They were usually very wealthy or had once been very poor but were suddenly in the money. All the stories took place in the past...usually prior to World War II and within the 20th century. They were quite horrible and cliche and I feel I haven't come very far in that respect. I write a lot of things based on the sort of things I enjoy reading, but the trouble is, I often write bad copies of what I love, instead of incredibly original things.
I think a reason I'm so much more drawn to the past is firstly, the aesthetic glamour and style of fashion and architecture. I find the styles so much more interesting. I love the artistry that went into making a dress. I love the fact that rich women had their gowns made for them personally. That essence of effort and the pursuit of uniqueness in one's clothes is truly marvelous to my mind. Someone asked me the other day if I made my own clothes and I wished so much that I could say yes. As much as I adore fashion, as much as I delight in finding just the right item and mixing all my millions of things together...I don't know if I could Create as well as I can Arrange and Spot.
Anyway, fashion plays a large part in my enjoyment of a lot of things. I love old films and I love costume dramas which appear to be historically accurate. Think of "Titanic" for example. If the outfits had been modern-day or if the period costumes simply hadn't done justice, I simply wouldn't have been half as interested.
But back to writing. Right now whenever I sit down and start scribbling or typing, I always wind up with a man and a woman. They're either in a marriage or a relationship that has gone on for some time. This idea of the couple seems to fascinate me more than anything. I love the idea of a man and a woman bickering or being pleasant with one another or avoiding each other, but underneath the surface, they've already shared so much and loved each other so long, there is this exquisite and sweet sort of understanding.
Maybe when I was a little girl I wanted to be rich and live in England and go to a boarding school and now that I'm older I just want to have a man I can argue with over the television needing to be repaired. Of course I have trouble imagining I'd really go so far as to Argue over something like that. I like to imagine I'm a little too adult to argue over a tv these days.
I think when one feels rigidly forced to do what one detests, one runs smack into the realization of what one really Desires. The more I think about math or biology, the more I run the opposite direction. The more bored, tired minutes I spend in a lecture hall, the more I am pulled in the direction of anything artistic. Writing and drawing are my consolation in this time of trial.
I'm really rambling. I think I shall get some breakfast and lie in bed watching "Indiscreet" with Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman.
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