Almost every Saturday I come on here and whine about turning 29. That's because I'm totally freaked out about it. I show my poor boyfriend pictures of my favorite engagement rings on Etsy, and he puts his fingers in his ears and runs away, screaming "I HAVE TO FINISH MY NOVEL FIRST!" I know I need to calm down about this a little.
I look around on Pinterest, on Facebook, and it seems like everyone is married and even having children at this point. Sometimes I feel so behind, and I wonder what went "wrong." My mother and father tell me I'm doing the right thing, I'm being smart, I'm going to school and establishing a life and a career first (if you can call it that!).
And the truth is that I know this was my own choice. Sure, I could have stayed in Cincinnati and found some nice hometown boy just like everyone else. But I wanted to go places, to see things. I wanted to read poetry and novels and be an English major-- whatever that means-- and hang out with writers and artists. I fell in love with one of the most anxious, particular ones of that breed.
I look for answers about just exactly what freaks me out so much about this. Is it my own goals and desires to be a mother? Is it the proverbial biological clock ticking? Is it the not-so-good reproductive history on my mother's side? Is it society? I think it has to be a little of all of those things. But the truth is that the problem comes in judging myself more harshly than any of those entities possibly could.
Recently, for class, I read Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence (more on that for Monday's post). I was enamored with the character of Madame Olenska, the "Bohemian" cousin of the perfect society ladies. Not necessarily a rebel, Olenska wants to "play by the rules," but finds sometimes that she simply cannot. She is not willing to sacrifice her love of the arts, of thinking people's company, of her own freedom, and of her own idea of her own life. Olenska is not an artist herself, but simply a woman who finds meaning in living in that world.
Unlike so many of "these types of female characters," Olenska has a brain, a heart, and a conscience. She does the right thing when it needs to be done, whether that thing goes with or against society. She has her own style-- as much as she tries to fit in, she cannot smother the self inside of her.
Madame Olenska drew me in more than any other character in the novel. Just as the protagonist worshipped her, so did I. She was far and away the most interesting, vibrant, sensual character in the story.
And I began to think, wouldn't I rather be the Madame Olenska?
And the truth is that I know this was my own choice. Sure, I could have stayed in Cincinnati and found some nice hometown boy just like everyone else. But I wanted to go places, to see things. I wanted to read poetry and novels and be an English major-- whatever that means-- and hang out with writers and artists. I fell in love with one of the most anxious, particular ones of that breed.
I look for answers about just exactly what freaks me out so much about this. Is it my own goals and desires to be a mother? Is it the proverbial biological clock ticking? Is it the not-so-good reproductive history on my mother's side? Is it society? I think it has to be a little of all of those things. But the truth is that the problem comes in judging myself more harshly than any of those entities possibly could.
Recently, for class, I read Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence (more on that for Monday's post). I was enamored with the character of Madame Olenska, the "Bohemian" cousin of the perfect society ladies. Not necessarily a rebel, Olenska wants to "play by the rules," but finds sometimes that she simply cannot. She is not willing to sacrifice her love of the arts, of thinking people's company, of her own freedom, and of her own idea of her own life. Olenska is not an artist herself, but simply a woman who finds meaning in living in that world.
Unlike so many of "these types of female characters," Olenska has a brain, a heart, and a conscience. She does the right thing when it needs to be done, whether that thing goes with or against society. She has her own style-- as much as she tries to fit in, she cannot smother the self inside of her.
Madame Olenska drew me in more than any other character in the novel. Just as the protagonist worshipped her, so did I. She was far and away the most interesting, vibrant, sensual character in the story.
And I began to think, wouldn't I rather be the Madame Olenska?
