The reader will pardon me, for any change he may see in my writing; for I have adapted my style, to coincide with that of Jane Austin, whose novel, I have finished this afternoon.
In the abovementioned novel it is obvious when two people, are going to be married. There was no surprise at the end, but a happy end notwithstanding. I find that in my life, it is much harder, to perceive the affexions of a member of the opposite sex; their behavior is to me, very baffling. And so it is to no great surprise, that I am dateless this evening for the Showcase. It is not necessarily a fete requiring an escort, but on my part, the escort, will be sorely missed. I refer of course to a particular person, the attentions of whom I have no cause or right to expect, yet my heart longs after him. But after such a grievous mistake as has been made the evening previous, I doubt he pays me any mind at all, except occasionally to shudder, at my impudence and silliness.
I saw him today at dinner, but dared not join him, for I knew none that were in his company; approaching him, therefore, would be forward. I ate in solitude, trying not to allow my eyes, to wander to his table. This was all in vain, since not looking at him is quite impossible.
As I left the room I greeted him in the least civil manner without being rude, and his greeting of me, was matching in its abruptness and apparent lack of interest. I am certain, that he is quite worried to speak to me, as I have lowered myself in front of him so plainly and stupidly. I cannot realize that he may never return my affections, for my life has always been filled with unrealised dreams.
This being said, I would like to assure the reader, that I am perfectly happy with my station in life, and although it brings me sorrow to think that I may always be an old maid, I will try to do a service, to my position in society.
That was interesting, was it not? Writing it, I had to vary my expressions to match those of Austen; not extremely difficult, although it did require me not to cite actual conversations.
The violins and trumpets hail the approach of Darth Vader, and the reader knows I listen to the Imperial March.
After such a digression it is hard to go on without reciting some anecdote from the Star Wars universe; but I will restrain myself.
If the reader has been intimate with me the past few days, he knows that the preceding Austen passage’s pivotal point has been Jason [full name redacted], although I feel it necessary to mention that I did not have his full name memorized, I had to look it up. So there!
This, of course, proves nothing. Being a fairly absent-minded person, I can admire things of which I know not the name (Awkward sentence, just to avoid a dangling preposition–though I suppose it would be considered everyday speech in Austen’s time.)
As a matter of fact, I admired Jason for two or three days without knowing his name.
I wish I could just take him aside and say, “The first time I saw you, you smiled at me, and I can be quite the assuming person, so I thought there could be a chance of something between us. But recent events–including my realization that you never think about quantum physics–have made me realize that you were only smiling at me in a friendly way, as you smile to everyone. I am not saying that a relationship between us is an absurd idea; I’m saying that I read too much into a look. I am not in love with you–I’ve never been in love with anyone. However, you do seem to be a well-rounded person and very likeable, and I would certainly enjoy continuing your acquantaince, though certainly without any hidden desires or silliness on my part. All I desire is a friendship, and it bothers me when my assuming nature drives so many people who could be my friends away.”
Whew! I have never in my life been able to vocalize my feelings of that nature with so much accuracy and yet so much discretion.
–To be completely off the subject, the original version of “The Asteroid Field” is horrendous and I’m glad John Williams was able to fix it.–
Well. I certainly have had a lot to say. I was going to write about MP, since Rebecca Shoemaker remarked that Jason reminds her of him. (This news, of course, put me almost into a state of shock. If I were a weaker person, my heart probably would have failed and I would have spent the rest of the 5 weeks hospitalized. What I know of MP, and the extreme circumstances the two of us had an enormous chance of being involved in, is enough to still scare me out of my mind. I can tell you one thing–I’m glad I’m not [his wife], to be sure!)
But. I don’t feel like writing much longer. I wish to go mingle with the commoners, so to speak. Before the Showcase, which starts at 8. So I’ll put my keys in my pocket (goin’ jing-a-ling-a-ling) and be on my way. Adieu!