Sunday, March 14, 2010

Awake For Ever in a Sweet Unrest

I spent the weekend with John Keats.

Last night, I went to the little slice of heaven known as Hanoi Cinematheque and had a lovely dinner before seeing "Bright Star" a charming movie based on the romance between John Keats and his love, Fanny Brawne.

Captivated by what I saw on screen, I came home and voraciously tore through all of Keats poems and more importantly, his letters to Miss Brawne

Now, I am hugely romantic and at times, truly believe that I was born in the wrong era. I would want nothing more than to engage in passionate expressions of love through letters. I love the concept of the man wooing and courting the lady, winning her over with his solemn but steadfast declaration of love and honor. Our concept of what romance is pitiful compared to how it used to be.

Somewhere, somehow, romance died. I truly believe that it's our fault, we let it die out, out of pure laziness or the need to modernize our outlook. We have cheapened love, passion, and its true meaning. Nothing really means anything anymore. It's too easy, thing are too accessible, too easy to replace.

I am just as guilty as the rest, yet a huge part of me yearns for some kind of restoration of ways past. I would love nothing more to be seduced and courted like the ladies in the Victorian era. Write to me of your feeling for me, describe in detail what you love about me, how I've changed your world and our loves affect on your outlook of life.

It breaks my heart that it probably won't happen.

Usually when I am exposed to true romance of eras past I become unsettled and upset. I wonder why I can't have a kind of love like that and I pick a fight with Alex. I know it's ridiculous but I do it anyway, I can't help it. I ask him why he doesn't write me poetry, why he isn't romancing me to keep the love and passion alive. I tell him that he didn't do a good job of courting me when we first got together.

At this point, he tends to ignore my belligerent ramblings and after a while I calm down, realizing that he's pretty Keats like in his own way...unwavering loyalty, unconditional and all encompassing love and devotion.

Still, i wouldn't object to him taking a poetry class, or sending me a love letter or two. Just saying...

Romance me :)

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