This video changed my life.
I think we should all heed the advice that the otters have given us...
when life gets hard...hold my hand.
Senators today decided to drop the Matthew Shepard Bill that was previously appended to the 2008 Defense Authorization Bill. While this is eerily almost a tit for tat re-enactment of what happened 4 years earlier in 2004, things were a little GOP-crazy back then. But today, with the Democrats in the majority of the House . . . we let prevalent and persistent issues such as hate crimes fall by the wayside. If you are not too familiar with what the bill entails and what it would have changed, read more about it here.
This video changed my life.
I think we should all heed the advice that the otters have given us...
when life gets hard...hold my hand.
I'm back from Italy! Spent my time in Florence and Rome. Here are a few pics I took:
I thought I'd share with everyone my holiday plans. I am going to study abroad this winter in Italy! I leave January 1st, 2007, and it'll be a two-week romp through Florence and Rome to study and look at paintings, buildings, temples, statues and oh so much more! I've taken about three Art History courses so far and I must say, if I wasn't an English major, I would be an Art History major. Art has a special place in my heart: I had originally wanted to attend Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) to do graphic design but was rejected. What I learned from that experience is that somethings in life don't happen for a reason, that maybe it was because I was too green or too raw or just not ready for such a direction in my life. I plan to return to graphic design, whether it be when I go to grad school or 20 years down the line. Anyway, back to Italy. I will be studying the Renaissance through art in Italy and here's a taste of what I hope to see:
Florence: Florence or Firenze was the artistic, cultural, and economic center of Italy during the Renaissance. Names like Vasari, Ghiberti, Giotto, di Medici, Donatello, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Titian, Rubens, Boccaccio, and Dante come to mind when speaking about Florence. (An aside for the English majors out there: Chaucer traveled to Florence and was deeply influenced by the poetry of Dante and Boccaccio; in fact, his Troilus and Criseyde is a translation of Boccaccio's Filostrato.)
I'm going to be staying at the Hotel Brunelleschi. It's supposed to have a great view, too:
One of my favorite Florentine painters of the High Renaissance is Titian. I love his detail to attention and the way he renders clothing and materials in such a way as to make you want to reach out and touch it. This poor reproduction of the original portrait, A Man with the Quilted Sleeve, can't really do justice to the original, nor the high-resolution reproductions I've seen. But anyway, I love this painting because its extravagance: the shimmering silk blue, the rich, thick black fur, all of that becomes translated into the artist's skill of technique rather than becoming materialistic.
Words cannot express my excitement and anticipation, but I imagine my experience will be something like Dante in his Paradiso, from Canto 33 when he rises above all the heavenly spheres to finally see God:
From that point on, what I could see was greater
than speech can show: at such a sight, it fails -
and memory fails when faced with such excess.
As one who sees within a dream and, later,
the passion that had been imprinted stays,
but nothing of the rest returns to mind.
It's 73 degrees in December and I'm turning 22. The warmth of this season is uncomfortable like aging - things once fecund are decaying . . . and what about me? A young, foolish-for-my-own-good kid who thinks her world is too small. Sometimes things get into my head without my permission and I start to think about what comes after life. I try to think past that to the point where I realize I've stopped breathing.
So I bought a cap but I haven't gotten a chance to wear it. It's grey and wool and keeps you warm around the ears. It now sits in the third from the bottom dresser drawer, with my socks and pajamas. What happens to things unused? Do they develop moth-eaten holes or do they stay as crisp as the unopened packaging? And what of the want to use? Does it linger like a bad aftertaste or does it fade away until you can only see faint traces like an emotional scar?
My grey wool cap rests in my dresser drawer. The drawer will prevent it from getting dusty and I will look at it occasionally. Thinking of it gives me warmth - even if I can't wear it. But I know one day I will wear it. And I know each year is another year; time flows while we ebb - until eventually we join the ocean.
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