Jane Austen was a tragic figure in literary history. I feel as though many of the truly great writers were- they had to be in order to write as powerfully as they did.

I also feel this is an apt reflection of how I, or any other powerful woman, could end up. And you know what? It sucks. Really. Fucking. Blows.

God, I get so mad just thinking about it! I can't stop crying, which is making me even MORE furious! And you know what? I'm flawed. Deeply, tragically flawed. And she WASN'T! God, that puts me at even more of a disadvantage.

Wow. Jane Austen just... rocked my world. Quite literally. It seems to be happening a lot lately. Does that say something about my state of mind? Am I particularly fragile right now? Do I recognize that even as I confront my fears, I'm just stepping into another box? Or.. is it a reflection of the media I happen to be pursuing?

I want sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. No snow. Just sleep.

So, I am in such better cheer now that I've discovered the world of NON Exam-Kracker study books. I actually feel like I may someday understand Physics again. It's frieking amazing. I'm so excited! LoL

I need to go live in the city. That's all there is to it. I know, it's just geography. But maybe sometimes, geography is a necessary part of making change.

Last night, I had a minor epiphany- minor because there were no trumpets or voices singing- about what I -could- be like. I had insight into how small-minded I truly am, and Im reasonably sure it's at least in part to growing up in the environment I did.

But yesterday... It was weird. Surrounded by so much that wasn't like anything I'd ever actively noticed, I was forced to rethink my perspective, and found out something that surprised me!