the remains of a deity

Ahh, there you are, America! You old cod, right where I left you. It's always in the LAST place you look, isn't it? Damn.

Now that I have returned from my enlightening sabbatical abroad, I find American ohsovery droll. These crazy kids and their wide streets and free water. Damn I'm cultured!

I find it really difficult to answer the ubiquitous query, "How was Italy?", largely because of my well-documented and eternally vexing battle with adjectives, those tricky bitches. My first reaction is, I don't really remember. It's very much like a dream, which is crazy considering that for four months nothing else in the world, or about my old life, seemed real. I think it's because almost everything in your day-to-day is in implicit compromise with the other aspects of your life, whereas study abroad was the sole focus of my attentions last semester, and anything else I experienced fell under that umbrella. It seems as though my Study Abroad Experience is wrapped up in a neat little bubble that is a distant yet pleasant memory, floating further and further away.

I've just started telling people something along the lines of, "Oh, it was amazing. It was by far the coolest thing I've ever done". That seems to suffice. It makes me feel awkwardly over-privileged.

The difficulty is expounded when anyone asks me what my favorite city was or what the best part was, and my first instinct is to say, well to really understand why it was so amazing, you have to know about the doctor and her clavel, as well as Art's female magnetism. And then that means nothing to anyone else. Now I'M okay with that, but I don't know how anyone else reacts to my kind of vacant expression a vague assertion that yes, in fact, I DID love being abroad, despite how dopey I look.

You might be saying, stop indulging yourself, the "how was study abroad" question is obviously obligatory. Praise Blogah for bestowing the ability to wax poetic about the trials and tribulations of returning from a whimsical jaunt in Europe. Ay me!

It's odd to return from my suspension of time & reality.

Unrelated, but I like to think I'm not the weakest liquor in the cabinet, but I'm losing faith; I have recently realized I am not even remotely smart enough to keep up with Lost. I've watched all the seasons previous to the latest, and I've been trying to keep up, but I can barely follow it. I have such a limited understanding of the goings-on and I'm feeling a little left out. Maybe it's because I hate all the characters.

lately, you have not been mommy's favorite child

OOPS! Forgot about this for awhile. My last month in Europe has consisted of a triage of sorts; deciding what I have time, money, and energy for. it turns out the blog has come last, right behind putting on makeup and checking my bank statements. Anyhow, here I am, spending my last couple days at the Villa and dragging my feet on finals.

Since I left you, I went to the Amalfi Coast, which was another kind of Sicily; pure, slightly tropical, relaxing heaven. The weekend after that my parents came to visit which was a very different kind of fun for awhile! I've just wrapped up my last full weekend in the Villa, and am "preparing" for finals. If possible, the completion of homework has fallen even slightly behind updating my blog on my priorities list. Classes are incredibly hard to take seriously since we're abroad. Other abroad programs vaguely claim to have similar standards to their home school, but it is rarely true, except for here. Tons O' Fun!

Today was my last day teaching my little Italian 3rd graders which was incredibly sad because I want to adopt almost all of them. Except Cristoforo, that little rascal! Pictures will be on the ol' facebook any day now.

This Saturday I will be joining my brother Pat and his girlfriend Melissa, and I'm really excited! Barring the possibility of some remote, previously dormant volcano exploding, sending thousands of pounds of blinding ash into the atmosphere, halting all air travel in Europe, causing the most drastic cancellation of flights since 9/11, we'll spend the next week and a half in Venice, Milan, Cinque Terre, Florence, and Rome.

Wait... oops.

anniversary in the greatest city in the world

Now, I'm not one to over-romanticize relationships, and I don't want to be too sappy, but Italy and I have been together for a little over one month now and I want to shout it from the rooftops! I'm in love and I don't care who knows it! I've only known Italy for a little over thirty days, but as they say, when you meet the right one it feels like you've known them forever. I also don't want to be the kind of girl who drops everything and everyone for their new lover, but you might not be seeing me for awhile. We are far too caught up in each other.

Sadly, we must part for about ten days. It's gonna be really hard, and I hope the new boys of Berlin and Dublin don't steal my heart, because I'm very committed to Italy (and extended metaphors).

Anyways, I just returned from my weekend trip to Rome. I kind of forgot about Rome, whether it is the over-exposure or the fact that every cool picture of art and factoid desensitized me to it, but Rome is literally the coolest city I've ever been. I love Florence, and I love living in Tuscany, but Rome is Rome, and thus on a different scale entirely. Most places you go, including large cities, a tourist site consists of just one popular landmark. Not so in Rome. There is actually too much to look at. I was thinking on the bus ride down there, man, everything is in Rome, this will be so awesome, etc. But then I got off the bus and was like, wait, EVERYTHING is here. Literally, everything. The ancient Roman fora, the innumerable triumphal arches of Roman emperors, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, Trevi fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Piazza di Fiori, the Vatican.

The first thing we saw was the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius. I love seeing things I studied in art history in person. It's like meeting a movie star and I did it all day long in Rome. The Colosseum was magnificent. It's crazy to see/be in and even crazier to imagine it in its original context. Now, it's just a skeleton of it's former self. Maybe it was the fact that we watched Ridley Scott's Gladiator on the ride down there, but as I stood in the Colosseum I saw the enormous amphitheater rebuild itself, watched sand cover the base and animals and men sprout from the now-mossy ground floor, and heard the cheers and jeers of the ravenous crowded.

By the time we reached the Pantheon, I was utterly exhausted, and kind of asleep on my feet. But really, the majesty and perfection of that building blew me away and woke me right up. I seriously have absolutely no idea how anyone could build that, let alone the ancients. It's a perfect dome with a nine meter wide oculus at the top. How do you build a dome and also incorporate a nine meter wide perfect circle at the absolute apex????? Seriously, people. I don't care who you are, that is damn impressive.

Sometimes when I look at landmarks like that, really big, almost intimidatingly impressive buildings, I get that feeling you get on roller coasters- like your eyes and your brain can't handle the implications of the dimensions you're staring at and it kind of blows your mind so much so that you get physically a bit uncomfortable. That's how I feel staring up at the Duomo in Florence and the Pantheon, let alone everything St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican.

My two favorite things had to have been the Trevi fountain and the Vatican. Trevi is just basically the shit- it's so much bigger than I expected, and I'm pretty sure it's the coolest fountain ever made, ever seen, and ever to exist, ever. Did I mention ever? A couple friends and I decided to spend the first night drinking wine on the steps and just staring at the Trevi. The way the artists sculpted the fountain is so exemplary of the baroque style, the marble looks like it's moving and the figures are interacting with each other in a way that's so palpable you expect them to move. If you just stare at them, you'll swear they are slightly adjusting themselves every couple seconds. Pictures don't do it justice; its cerulean blue (esp. at night) and gorgeous and I love the sound of the water rushing, there's so much of it that it actually gives off a light, really refreshing breeze. Amazing. Three boxes (yes, boxes. I'm a lady.) of wine turned into another two bottles of wine and a bottle of champagne, which we popped on the steps to the confused looks of all the other fountain-goers. Anyway, all that alcohol turned into four really drunk American tourists, so duh, we hopped in the fountain. Apparently it's a hundred euro fine but we saw a woman go in before us. Cops are always around the Trevi and they didn't stop us. Tourism WIN.

Vatican City is ridiculous. The city is basically the Pope's city. The Vatican museums are like the Smithsonian- they have EVERYTHING. One of my friends made the comment that apparently the Vatican has a history of stealing artifacts and I really don't doubt it. They have an Egypt room with tons of sarcophagi and an actual mummy! I really geeked out when I got to see the ancient Assyrian art. The reliefs of Sennacherib, Assurbanipal, and Assurnasirpal were amazingggggg. The Vatican museums have pretty cool little courtyards too, one has a random pine cone sculpture, another is surrounded by ancient marble sculptures. Right before the Sistine Chapel is Raphael's fresco room- The School of Athens was awesome to see in person. Nothing can beat that damn Sistine though (sidenote: totally thought of that moment in Good Will Hunting when Robin Williams yells at Matt Damon, telling him he couldn't tell him what the Sistine Chapel smells like. I could! But it was just a general old-room smell. Damn.). I could spend hours in there just staring, especially at Michaelangelo Bounarroti's The Last Judgment. Ghirlandaio's side panel of the Preachings of Jesus is amazing too, especially in it's vibrant colors and perspectival prowess.

My favorite landmark, ever ever ever, is St. Peter's Basilica. I had always heard how impressive it is, but no picture nor description could ever do it justice. I seriously have no words for how amazing and stunning it is. It's the biggest church in the world and absolutely magnificent. It has tons of Bernini-style baroque sculptures that are like twenty feet tall and amazing.

I'm exhausted and in love with all of the above.

on the other side of the world

Once again, I feel the need to preface the recanting of the events from this past weekend with a disclaimer: none of this is real. I'm on the other side of the earth with no responsibilities aside from trying to budget as efficiently as possible (and oops? going to class?). This is fantasyland, in which things that used to matter, petty things, don't even remotely cross your mind, let alone have any gravity. My life revolves around doing things I've only barely dared to admit could be possible and eating probably the best food anyone has ever eaten, ever. In the gastronomical history of our race's existence, I have won the jackpot, I humbly invite you all to let the jealousy devour you.

This weekend, myself and eight others from the program went to Bologna. Known as the grassa (fat) and dotta (learned) city, Bologna feels as if someone took the coolest, most chill college town and morphed it with some of the most impressive Romanesque architecture, and put God's Chef in charge to run the whole thing. Being largely ignorant of geography and its implications, I failed to take into account the altitude change from the Florence to Bologna. We left Florence at it's usual; about 50 degrees, sunny, and green. The train ride to Bologna took us under the Appenines, and after emerging from a tunnel we were in for about five minutes, we saw everything was blanketed in snow. As my roommate Becca aptly put it, it was like we just got out of the closet and were now in Narnia. I was really confused and kind of panicky seeing as I clearly wasn't dressed appropriately. Luckily, Maria sent me like eight silk long sleeved undershirts (along with a book light, travel clock, hostess cupcakes, and two utensils that are a spoon on one side and a fork on another. My mother thinks I'm camping).

Our Villa RA had given us a really good recommendation for a hotel in Bologna and it turned out to be really nice and fairly priced. AND they gave us breakfast in the mornings, complete with to-go packets of Nutella, I had a field day with that. The only thing was that the toilet flushed selectively, but the bathroom was redeemed by the towel-warmer, yum! I just used "toilet" and "yum" in the same sentence.

The city of Bologna is incredibly vibrant and vivacious. There were tons and tons of colonnades along the streets, with great shopping as well. Our first stop was the University of Bologna section of the city, near the OTHER less famous leaning tower in Italy, the leaning tower of Bologna. Random. The university part of the city was really fun, there were college kids everywhere and it definitely reflected in the energy of the city. The University was founded in 1088, so everything has been built in conversation with this feature of the city. The nightlife was fantastic, there are a ton of university bars, our favorite shot bar was called "Bar College History". I think I get where they were going with that one but the execution wasn't too smooth. I think mostly all the Bologna U kids made fun of us for being a group of 9 obnoxious Americans who don't know where they were going, but whatevs. As I've already learned, there is no escaping Italian's disgust and ridicule. We went to this "Irish Pub" (every bar that isn't a discoteca is an "Irish pub" in Italy) that we ended up really liking.

I am rapidly running out of ways to describe food, both Villa food and the food we ate in Bologna. Instead of trying to encapsulate the gravity of the deliciousness of the individual meals, suffice it to say that more often than not, the sight of the composition of the plate combined with the smell emanating from it makes most of us go silent with reverence. Upon actually tasting the food (my friend Kate is the best at this), out of amazement, we put down whatever utensil we were holding, catch each other's eyes to affirm it's actually real, and then put our heads down for a couple seconds, trying to grasp the enormity of it all. I am not exaggerating, this happens almost every meal. Then commences the instinct to scarf everything down in a blink of an eye, which we painfully resist, trying to savor every moment. Lastly comes the Torture of the Last Bite, in which one realizes this is the last time (in the near future) we will get to taste whatever it is we were eating. It's a horribly vexing moment, in which your taste buds are immersed in bliss but your mind is in agony, grappling with the undeniable truth that the meal, is in fact, over.

I know that sounds insane, but it's honestly how most of us feel.

Back to Bologna, the second day we went to find the main piazza, Piazza Maggiore, which was enormous and awesome. An art group from Milan was rolling out these gigantic sheets of white paper and opening buckets of paint, asking any passersby to paint on it for them, for some kind of country-wide social art contest. We took this and ran with it, had so much fun, took tons of pictures, et cetera. I think we were all kind of high off that experience, and we spent the rest of the day walking around basically goofing off and enjoying the sights.

Three days, two nights, immeasurable bus and cab rides later, I find myself pleasantly exhausted. A day or two of homework catch-up and repose, and then off to Rome with the entire Villa!! Ciao for now!

Villa time, Middle schoolers, Baloney!

Time rushes by here. I would say "time flies by" but "fly" implies a smooth, weightless journey, but in the villa time passes with all the clamor and cacophony of passing trains. Between travelling, meals, and homework, the days seem continuous. If I'm not so tired I feel like anesthetized, I'm starving, and good sleep is a precious, precious thing. I'm usually out like a brick. Villa life is so strange and amazing. One of my roommates has aptly referred to the entire experience as a fantasy world. We play by few of the rules that restrict our usual lives. The food is better, the days are shorter, the experiences are weird and crazy and beautiful.

Since my last post I have gone to Pisa and Lucca. It was a gorgeous, clear, crisp day that we started in Pisa to see that oh-so-famous architectural goof. For whatever reason, the majority of our villa group has yet to break free from the "sheep mentality", in which we all run around whatever Italian city we're in, wondering who is in charge and where something this. There are about four people on the trip who have good sense about where to go or how to get directions to something. I am not one of these people. Instead of getting a map or asking directions myself and others on the trip would rather wander aimlessly hoping to find, inevitably backtracking and getting angry ourselves. We do this about twice a week. My friend Becca had the genius idea of giving whoever is in charge a balloon to hold so we'll all know what to do. Long story short, we made it to the Leaning Tower. That's about the only thing to do in Pisa, aside from hit up a really freaking delicious kebab place around the corner from it all. I did not take the cliched "holding up the tower" picture, but one of my friends does have a couple pictures of all the tourists taking those pictures, so some quota was filled there.

Lucca was way, way cooler. It's a Tuscan town that is completely walled, nestled in the Apennine Mountains. GOYGEOUS! It was the first place other than my hometown of Sesto Fiorentino that feels truly authentically Italian. You could tell that Lucca doesn't get a crazy amount of tourists. We were there around 3-5pm and all the locals were walking around the quaint, cobblestone streets, popping into equally quaint shops here and there. At one point the girls I was with and I found ourselves in a really pretty piazza that we quickly realized was THE cool middle-school hang out. I seriously haven't felt that awkward since I was in middle school myself. You know what I'm talking about, when there is like a 40 person hangout, like at the mall or a movie theater, and all the kids were running around to each other giggling and play with their phones. Except they were way cooler than I was because they are in Italy and more fashionable that I am now or will ever be.

Tomorrow is my first fabulous weekend trip to Bologna! We found a super decently priced hostel and we're off to have fun in the country's gastronomical center. Yum!

my global education

I didn't think it was possible to be jealous of yourself, but I think in the last week I have achieved it. I feel like the man in the Dos Equis commercials.

If you haven't seen one, you have to immediately-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVwG1t-NVAA

About three times a day I have moments where I feel so fortunate that it's the type of emotion that expands within you and I feel kind of like I'm floating, for lack of a better contrived analogy.

Lucky for you, I have learned more things in the past couple days.

1. The term "giving an opinion" implies a cordial, non-argumentative offering of one's thoughts. Italians do not do this. Italians do not believe their opinions ARE opinions, in fact I don't think they think "opinions" exist. They force their opinions on others with an absoluteness that is astounding to witness as a meek little American. Exhibit A: my Italian language professor. In the first ten minutes of the first class, she managed to convince me that Italian politics are horribly and irrevocably corrupt, which really wasn't a hard sell. She then, bless her heart, told us why Florence isn't that great of a city, that she actually hates it, as well as Milan, and can only borderline tolerate Venice. Nice.

2. Everyday, an American in Italy will do something stupid, be immediately identified as an obnoxious American, and be made fun of. There is no escaping this, do not try.

3. I know I already learned this, but I'm still floored by the lack of free water/clean toilets. Also, I miss ice, as in frozen water, an art that has yet to reach the exotic land of Italy.

4. Everyone makes jokes about Italian men being forceful and creepy- statements such as these should not be taken as jokes. Stay far away. Firenze also seems to be chock full of Australians, a much safer and more charming bet.

I really can't believe I've only been here a week and some days. It feels like a month, in a good way. I just feel like I've done and seen SO much more than I would in my normal day to day life. Also, the relationships I have with my fellow program participants have developed about four times as quickly as normal interaction. I feel like I've known them forever kind of.

I hope everything is going well on the other side of the screen! More updates when I find the energy.

Gay Rights, Renaissance Humanism, and Lady Gaga. Get Excited.

This has really nothing to do with my Italian adventures, but I feel just as strongly about it as I do our Italian chef Bruno!

All joking aside, today begins the trial of Perry v. Schwarzenegger, the case in California that could overturn Prop 8. I am of the opinion that Prop 8, despite its supporter's fervent denial, is the cloak superficially covering years and centuries of homophobia. This case certainly has the sociopolitical implications that Brown v. Board of Education and Roe v. Wade had in the past- and is THE civil rights struggle of our generation.

This issue is being viewed through a myriad of social lenses- some relevant, some not so relevant. Perhaps being in Europe, with all these crazy socialists, has made me even more adamant about same-sex marriage rights, but I am continually disappointed by some American's inability to realize the importance of civil rights as well as the consequences of this decision.

Natural human habit never changes- ultimately, we will always fear what we don't understand. You can pollute the issue with billions of court cases and studies and bible quotes, but these socially highly regarded formalities cannot veil what is teeming just beneath the surface- the uneasiness people feel towards homosexuality. It's easy to watch old white men on C-SPAN and trust that they oppose gay marriage not because they are homophobic, but because it "protects our children". Well that sounds great, I'd love to protect our children! That statement evokes the morality of raising our children right! We need to listen closer. We need to listen closer to what pro-Prop 8 groups (as well as any other "pro-family" groups) are saying. In their "About Us" section, the Protect Marriage organization fails to mention exactly what they think Prop 8 will protect their children from. They say,

"Because public schools are already required to teach the role of marriage in society as part of the curriculum, schools will now be required to teach students that gay marriage is the same as traditional marriage, starting with kindergarteners. By saying that a marriage is between any two persons rather than between a man and a woman, the Court decision has opened the door to any kind of marriage." (http://www.protectmarriage.com/about/why)

I have many problems with this. Namely, they ascribe to a long standing and incredibly effective literary tool: That of dancing around what you are really trying to say. This animal is known in the wild as "bullshit".

What Protect Marriage is conveniently leaving out is that they do not want their children to know that gay people exist, because if they know gay people exists, that means the idea will be planted in their head and that they could become gay. This is the most bigoted, inaccurate, and disgusting thing that is somehow accepted that I've ever heard, and it makes me sick. However, many people who don't support same-sex marriage are not wholly bigoted, unlike those who never want their children to "find out" about homosexuality. Many people are just uncomfortable with homosexuals, and hop on the bandwagon because they were raised in a time in which only heterosexuality was tolerated. These people are not immoral, rather just ill-informed. Ignorance has too long been covertly disguised and accepted in our society.

When I use the term "ignorant", I do not use it derisively, but rather seek to employ the true definition of the word; that of a state of unawareness. I think older generations are largely unaware of the significance of equal rights for same-sex couples and homosexuals in general. In a nerdy English major move, I can't help but think of Shakespeare when he said "This house is as dark as Ignorance, though Ignorance were as dark as hell" (Twelfth Night, Act IV, scene ii). I believe our house has grown dark, and I believe we will find the power to lighten it.

As Monte Neil Stewart found in his Harvard Study of the arguments for and against same-sex marriage,

"The successful constitutional arguments advanced in support of man-woman marriage succeed because they are ultimately premised on the factually accurate broad (or institutional) description of a complex whole—the marriage institution—that guides individual activity, sustains identity, gives sense and purpose to the lives of its participants, and thereby produces valuable social goods."

Now, Harvard is one of the greatest educational institutions in America and I'm sure Monte Neil Stewart owns many leather-bound books, but we are not a society dependent on the success of a nuclear familial unit to sustain our economy or infrastructure. Left and right (pun intended), heterosexual marriages are falling apart, with and without progeny. Nor are gay couples plagued by purposelessness, being attracted to your own sex does not strip your life of meaning. I'd also like to point out that "sustaining identity" could be a bad thing, such as sustaining one's identity as a bigot, felon, or tyrant. In short, Stewart's analysis short changes marriage, considering it only as a tool for a government or society- a government or society that could theoretically be morally bankrupt and corrupt. Stewart assumes the government serves all its members equally; but as history shows, governments generally fail in providing equal rights for all of their people. More often than not, all governments become oligarchical, serving only a small group. In America, this group consists of Upper-middle class, straight, Christian white men. Historically, marriage has been a tool for procreation, sustaining familial ties, founding alliances, and convenience. Our society is not dependent on these values. We have outdated our definition of marriage. Marriage, in a free society like America's, should be about love. Positive feelings toward another human being, including sexual love.

As Stewart confirms, yes, heterosexual marriage is useful to our society, but so was slavery. Slavery fueled the cotton and tobacco economies that boosted this nation to its (now increasingly waning) financial supremacy, but it is inherently immoral. W.H. Beveridge, in his book Full Employment in a Free Society (1944), points out that "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens."

As Americans, we cannot afford to allow this pervasive ignorance to continue to plague our fight for civil rights. America was founded not upon religious doctrine, but upon an inextinguishable hunger for liberty. Liberty in the face of a nameless and blameless monster that is the collective misguided public. I believe this hunger will eventually be sated, but it should be sated today, not in five or ten years. We cannot wait for those in the dark to "warm up" or "come around" to the idea of same-sex marriage, which so obviously just makes many uncomfortable. An alarming amount of people are still uncomfortable seeing an interracial couple, but that uncomfortable feeling is largely unacceptable to advertise in our society. So should the uncomfortable feeling of seeing two men holding hands down the street, or two women in the mall with their child. I believe Jack Nicholson's character in Scorsese's The Departed hit the nail on the head when he said "No one gives it to you. You have to take it". Interestingly enough, his character was also discussing civil rights, that of black Americans (although he uses less than savory vocabulary).

People ask me why I'm an English major- and truly, it's an impossible to define in a sentence. In a larger sense, it's easier to identify my concentration with the Humanities. My interest in English goes beyond my veneration of literature. For many people, the humanities are considered irrelevant, which is a travesty. I think it's important to relate the humanities to the idea of Renaissance humanism- which encompasses a bevy of ideas and schools of thought, but namely includes a passionate concern with "human interests and welfare, stressing the inherent value and potential of human life" (Oxford English Dictionary). It seems like quite a jump for same-sex marriage to Renaissance humanism, but it is wrapped up in the holistic view of education and philosophy. In my English classes we examine and analyze every aspect of the human condition, which sounds hokey and pretentious and airy, but ultimately can lead to my favorite thing to be led to- clarity. Clarity of history, clarity of meaning, clarity of significance.

For many, same-sex marriage is a confusing issue, convoluted with bias and tangled in never-ending politics. Boiled down however, it is in the same vein as every other civil rights issue. The emancipation of slaves in the late 19th century, the sufferance of women in the early 20th century, the Black Civil Rights and Feminist Movements in contemporary society, and now it's a different monster. People have a way of ignoring history and historical example. Despite all the cliches, history is in fact, condemned to repeat itself. For too many the issue of same-sex marriage is tossed aside as a frivolous foray of the idealistic and liberal. That is also what people thought about the entire doctrine of democracy in ancient societies. For a society to maintain its liberty, it needs to be looking forward. Not necessarily a doctrine of "progress for progress' sake", but rather progress for liberty's sake. In general, we are lucky to be citizens of America, fortunate enough to be guaranteed rights many citizens of the world are denied. America needs to be a beacon; not in a financial or militaristic capacity, but as a society that successfully acts in defense of basic human rights.

At this point I will hearken to a previous post, about negative reactions to the pop artist Lady Gaga. People think what she does is "out-there". What does "out-there" even really mean? It means something outside the boundaries of people's comfort zones. Lady Gaga wears outfits considered strange by our society- GASP! She must be Satan. Some people are attracted to their same sex- Grab your torches and pitchforks! Martin Luther thought religion should be free from corruption- Kill all the Protestants! Sadly, the last two are/were much bigger social issues, for which hundreds of thousands, possibly millions of deaths in history serve to evidence. Just like Luther's ideals challenged the Papal authority, gay activist's ideals challenge the authority of "the norm". It was the fact that Luther was undermining the theocracy- the power. I believe that gay activists undermine the power of the oldwhitestraightguy, and it unnerves them. However, we cannot afford to stroke egos, we are dealing with an issue larger than some people being "weirded out" by homosexuals.

Same-sex marriage is a question of freedom. America guarantees rights to its citizens, and in denying those rights fails as an institution. Our voices can turn the tide and work against ignorance. In whatever way you can, lend your support to the overturning of Prop 8, without which we cannot make progress for LGBTQ Civil Rights.

i love ya, tomorrow!

with the help of all my singing mice friends, my bags are packed, my wallet houses euros, not dollars, and i will see you on the flip side!

Liam Neeson

This post isn't really about Liam Neeson. I'm leaving for Italy in a week and two days. Since being home from Madison, I have watched Taken twice. Currently, I am packing things in my suitcase in descending order of what would be most effective to bludgeon a potential Eastern European sex trafficker with.

now, a lovely poem.

"A thrush in the syringa sings.

‘Hunger ruffles my wings, fear,
lust, familiar things.

Death thrusts hard. My sons
by hawk’s beak, by stones,
trusting weak wings
by cat and weasel, die.

Thunder smothers the sky.
From a shaken bush I
list familiar things,
fear, hunger, lust.’

O gay thrush!"

Basil Bunting

this is the final countdown

The countdowns have begun. The countdown to my last two papers’ due dates, to the last real weekend of the semester, to my two finals, to moving out of Madison, to the holidays, and to my semester trip to Italy. Being someone who loathes change, instead of breathless anticipation, at this moment I feel nothing but excruciating dread. I don’t want to study, much less write or actually take a test, I don’t want to pack, and I don’t want to do anything except spend time with the people I won’t see for 4-7 months.

As ever, I am astoundingly incapable of sorting out any priorities or emotions and instead feel one big great blizzard (pun intended, since the torrential onslaught of winter is hardly making me fondly recall the days of yore) of stress.

I know, I know I KNOW I should be pissing myself with excitement and really, in the back of my head I am.

Dear Santa,

I just wish I had a bit more time before I jet off to Europe. Just a bit more! Please?

-Ali

"O might I here/In solitude live savage" -John Milton, Paradise Lost

namesake

I create this blog in anticipation of next semester which will feature me cavorting about Europe. This has yet to really sink in and I go around saying "i'm going to florence next semester" in the same way that most people say "i think i'll have a nap". having never been to Europe, it still seems unreal. Ironically, I recently realized that by the end of this semester I will have earned a European Studies certificate. My college education has become so passive that I am literally unknowingly attaining minors in addition to my focus in English (which I also tend to forget about sometimes).

will someone explain to me the appeal of bangs that are between 1/2 and 2 inches long? Why? Among others, these thoughts plague me. Attached is the namesake of this blog, an excerpt from a really great American Indian narrative novel written by Minnesota's own Louise Erdrich.


" 'You lie,' she said. 'You're cold. There is a wicked ice forming in your blood. You don't have a shred of devotion for God. Only wild cold dark lust. I know it. I know how you feel. I see the beast... the beast watches me out of your eyes sometimes. Cold.' " -Love Medicine, Louise Erdrich