The Eponine Complex

By now a lot of people may be even a little bit knowledgeable of the plot of Victor Hugo’s classic, “Les Miserables.” However, I am not going to be talking about the story’s contribution to classic literature or its contribution to the success of most Broadway productions (Yes, Lea Salonga, I hear you girl). I want to talk about the second most popular female character of this story, right after Fantine and that is Eponine. I don’t really have to describe Eponine or even narrate her background, what I want people to know is how a lot of girls in the whole world kind of relate to this seemingly proverbial character whose fate ends up literally dead.
Eponine is essentially part of the bitter end of the love triangle. In my own opinion, this thing between her, Marius and Cosette does not really resemble a love triangle, rather it resembles something like this:

It’s plainly obvious how every single girl in this world thinks she is Eponine because each one of them thinks that the man (or woman) that they are in love with will never love them back. Consequentially, these girls who think themselves as social pariahs end up crying over this predicament and sing their emotions out right out in the silent streets, at midnight while every drop of rain is hitting their faces. The last bit may hold not true to some accounts—I, myself, sing “On My Own” in the bathroom while the water from the shower is poorly substituting what is supposed to be actual raindrops. But the bottom line is—we all do this, maybe not the singing part but the self pity part. Admit it, you think you’re Eponine, I feel like Eponine, we all feel like Eponine. It is like all our menstrual cycles are in sync, our Estrogen-ridden brains always hit that Eponine note and activate it like a highly sensitive nerve synapse whenever we feel like this guy (or girl, I have no problem with gayhood) is not noticing us and hell, will never ever notice us. EVER. Story of our lives.
It is a global phenomenon-- why are we so susceptible to self pity to the point that we immediately resort to this conclusion whenever we are friendzoned? I don’t blame people who feel like this because I, too, torture myself sometimes with questions like,
“Am I too ugly?”
“Am I too loud?”
“Am I too hideous?”
“Am I too fat?”
“Do I sound dumb?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
But this was years ago and no, there was nothing wrong with me it’s just that I lacked a bit of honesty and determination. The problem with that situation was that I never really told the guy that I fancied him, like, immensely! I only dropped him subtle hints and told all my friends about my supposedly heartbreak. Why the lack of romantic cheesy declarations of love in my life? I had no idea at that time but I guess now, looking back, it was an amalgamation of the fear of rejection, my overflowing pride and (surprise, surprise) my teenage shyness. I mean, can you really blame me? I was seventeen! Being honest is never easy for those people who are not accustomed in putting their figurative hearts in their respective sleeves. Honesty is a bare-all action, something that a lot of us are afraid of because this makes us vulnerable human beings that a mere slight exposure could actually sting us. The things that bring the honesty out from underneath us will sting like sunburn-- it will hurt and that is what we are all afraid of.
However, we must not always blame ourselves when we are loveless, sometimes the many Marius-es in our lives should make an effort to look the other way and notice us for a change. DANG IT. However, maybe Marius just needs a push, maybe he just needs to know how we feel minus the subtlety. Maybe, just maybe, Marius is just too oblivious and he needs to see the light (spoiler alert: the light is us, yes we’re fabulous like that). Maybe the fact that everybody hates Cosette could actually boost your confidence (Yey!).
I don’t really know much about love and relationships, it is something that will perpetually remain a mystery to me. It is normal to pity ourselves once in a while but we must not reach the point of no return, in this case we must not become Eponine who martyred herself by taking a bullet for Marius. When we get sad, the whole world never really stops for us and that is the way that the universe is trying to tell us something—go on, move on and carry on. It is definitely okay to listen to the saddest songs, devour a pint of ice cream and drink bottle after bottle until our blood becomes alcohol when we feel left out from all this love business but we must never forget to promise ourselves that we will go on, move on and carry on tomorrow... or eventually.
As I sit here in my room, writing this bit of reflection, simultaneously scrolling past my facebook account’s newsfeed, the boy who I thought I was so in love with is online. And I thought, “You will never know how much alcohol I ingested because of you... and I hope to God you will never know.”
Cackles. Cackles everywhere.
I hope you all will drink not for heartbreak, but for happiness.
Happy 2013.
Nyma

Lost in Austenland

The thing about me and Jane Austen is that we are both women in love with a different kind of fantasy. This fantasy could be real for others but inevitably still remains just a fantasy for the both of us. No I'm not going to whine all day about how lucky Elizabeth Bennet is. Instead, I am going to say something about my two favorite novels by Jane Austen, an analysis of some sort. You see, I have been forever haunted with the story of the two young heroines that dominate Pride & Prejudice and Persuasion.

I must say in all honestly, Pride & Prejudice has been a constantly copied and remade story turned into modern adaptations but the original Victorian version, the root of all, still wins my heart. I love happy endings and I want them in every story I read. In this novel, Mr. Darcy, the hero, starts off really bad and in the middle it gets worse. But the real question is, how did it end? Hah! I got you there didn't I? It's remarkable how Jane Austen saw the future of women. In her time, women writing novels were considered preposterous just like how Ann Radcliffe conceived her Gothic novels. But Jane saw that there is equality between the two genders, that women were capable of anything. Mr. Darcy, I think, always thought of every woman as Caroline Bingley-- attention-starved and pathetic. But the moment he laid eyes on free-spirited and independent Elizabeth Bennet, his generalization of his opposite sex became something of a milder sense. That's why Elizabeth will always be an icon of women. Who would've thought at that time that women had a choice, that the consequences laid before them and decided by society was unfair? It's amazing how I realize these things just by reading Jane Austen beyond the pretense of her being a romantic novelist. She was a realist. Although her novels speak of love, the conflict speaks of how unruly the society was at her time. Nowadays, it is ridiculous for a woman to be uneducated. Oh how the times have changed.

Moving to a different Austen novel: Persuasion. Anne Elliot basically had a lack of conviction which characteristically differs from that of Elizabeth Bennet. Ann is easily persuaded by her godmother, her father and her sisters that she forgets what she really wants. And who is the poor soul that gets all the beatings? Poor Mr. Frederick Wentworth who loved her all his life. But Ann should not be the one to blame, in fact the society is always the one to blame. Society dictates her to take a man of a higher rank since she's of noble blood. Noble blood? What does that mean these days? I definitely oppose to that idea that marriage is all about security. How could you promise to be with a man all your life when that marriage is clouded with false civility and constant indifference? Marriage should have stronger foundations-- love, trust, respect. I guess Ann just wasn't that confident to take the leap and elope with Wentworth.

But you know what I love about Austen? It is that her novels are completely opposite to her real life. Here, in her little fantasy world in paper, her heroes and heroines get the jackpot. I love happy endings. Elizabeth Bennet gets to be married to Mr. Darcy and gets the estate. Ann Elliot marries Wentworth and also gets the estate. I guess in Austen's world property, a house and financial stability still matters. But love, yes it's still the root of all. She is, I'm afraid, my only escape from the harsh winds of reality and lovelessness. This is the reason why I will always love Jane Austen and her stories-- entertaining and heartwarming.

si j'taime. 

au revoir.

Nyma