"Some of the most striking events of French history have occurred on the banks of that river, and the soil it waters bloomed for awhile with flowering of the Renaissance."-James
When you are at home and you see beautiful old European buildings on TV and you think, and I myself thought, "How could someone not be amazed passing those buildings everyday?" I suppose I am becoming more 'European' because every time I go downtown, aside from the cathedral, I don't always think of how awesome it is passing these old buildings. As James was describing the Loire and all the history that has happened I found myself after reading this looking at all the buildings and thinking, " I wonder who all has lived in that random building." and then making up random historical stories in my mind.
I know tomorrow when I am at Verdun there will be no way to not to ignore the history that has happened in this area. A chill will shiver up my spine and I will think about a poor French man defending his country while he probably has a loved one and child at home. It is important to know one's history and it is striking to think about all the history here in Europe.
I hope I don't take advantage of the beautiful scenery anymore and that I soak up each hand crafted stone until I am back in my home among the hills.
-Tyler Underwood
10/22/2011
Nice Was Nice
The adventure to Nice was a good one. I never thought I'd see something so beautiful in real life. Yea things may look a certain way on a post card, or a t.v. screen but it doesn't seem to be that way in person. Opinions very about which location has been the best, but for me hands down, so far Nice takes it.
It was really cool to see like the cultural difference be pretty extreme. It really did me in when we saw the old ladies topless on the beach. It was kind of creepy, but who am I to judge? It's their thing, in their land. For a split second I almost joined the movement, for a split second.(Haha)
I finally think I developed the travel mind set. In the Art of Travel he spoke about complaining about things, and how we think everything different from our ways is weird. The funny thing is we put ourselves in that situation, no one made me book a ticket or a trip. So why are we complaining? I 'm stil not a big fan of that book, it seemed really drawn out and blah, but there were some good points.
Dufilled
As I read the second chapter of "The Great Railway Bazaar", I am reminded of how that during travel somehings, if not everything can go wrong. I my was Dufilled before I came to France. I was supposed to leave at 4:25pm, August 31 in order to began my study abroad program. Unfortunately, I ended up showing up a week later. My dad came to see me off, my sisters missed school to see me off, and my mother got off of work early. My family walked me to the security gate and upon finding out that they could not see me to the gate, we cried. After the tears I went to international gate E1 and I waited. At around 4 o'clock, I began to wonder why I didn't see many travelers and why there were no attendees at the gate. Now, an experienced traveler would no that the logical thing to do would be to go and check the t.v monitors to see if the gate had been changed. It was my first time every traveling alone so I just sat there. At about 4:30 I began to walk around to the neighboring gates to ask questions. No one was available to help me. Finally an attendent came to the gate. I asked what time was the flight to Frankfurt, Germany. She stated, " the flight to Frankfurt was scheduled to leave at 4:25 at E7 and it has left." I could not believe what I was hearing! Left! What am I supposed to do? I don't even have my cell phone! How am I supposed to call my parents? So I stomped, STOMPED, my way to ticketing. On my way there, tears began to fall and I hear a delta employee on the right of me stating, "it will be okay", laughing. This was not a laughing matter ma'm, I thought. When I got to station, the line was extremely long, which made things worse. When I finally got to the front of the line, I found out that there was basically no hope for me to leave on that day. I was on a buddy pass, so there was no way I could put me on another flight. The clerk did all she could to find me a flight; she was trying her best to get me out of Atlanta so I could "go to school". She finally allowed me to use the phone, which she wasn't supposed to do, and I called my daddy so he could come and pick me up. As soon as I hang up the phone, I started to cry again, but then next to me was another girl who was crying as well. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she had been stranded in the Atlanta, Airport for four days straight. She was supposed to be in Barcelona. Before I left to go baggage claim, I gave her a hug and simply said what I was hearing in my heart, that everything would be alright. Once I turned my back I cried once more, but when I got to the train I began to laugh. I was laughing at God, because it could be that I was always destined to arrive on the 8th of September, I just had to be at that airport on that day to comfort someone else. God is funny like that, you never what He's up to unless He chooses to reveal it to you.
what it means to be fascinated by new places
Since beginning Voss by Patrick White, I’ve been struggling to find pieces of the book of which to comment on in this blog. To try to relate to a piece of fiction is difficult. I’m ¼ of the way through with the book and I’ve found it to be a bit melodramatic so far, especially when trying to draw parallels. However, I can appreciate a bit of what’s in the piece so far.
What I’ve read so far is the preparation and beginning of Voss’s expedition. Much has been his interactions with the locals and the relationships that he’s built with them. There is a lot of anticipation from the locals over the unexplored territory that he’s going to and they think of the character Voss. Voss is very casual about the expedition and lives very much in his own world. The locals are quite the opposite. Here is an example of one interaction:
“But I am inclined to believe, Mr. Voss, that you will discover … something resembling the bottom of the sea. That is my humble opinion.”
“Have you walked upon the bottom of the sea?” the German (Voss) asked.
“No.”
“I have not,” said Voss “Except in dreams, of course. That is why I am fascinated by the prospect before me.”
That sort of “it’s my business, not yours” attitude is prevalent throughout. Voss appears to be travelling very much for his own enrichment as a person.
Perhaps what I should take away from this book is that I too need to be travelling for my own personal benefit and not react to other’s assumptions and judgments. I should be happy to be somewhere new to me, personally, regardless if it’s overtly touristy or nothing deemed “special” by others.
I recently spoke with my native European friend who's currently abroad herself in Canada. I told her about where I'm going next week, and her reaction was along the lines of "there's better places to go to/ that's a bit touristy". This wasn't meant to be offensive at all, just her honest opinion. I appreciate the honesty. But an American's experience in Bruges compared to a Finnish person's would be considerably different and I need to keep this in mind. As a "non-native", of course things are going to seem different.
I'm looking forward to this next week travelling outside of France. I'm going with my own point of view and that's satisfying enough for me.
-Maria
What I’ve read so far is the preparation and beginning of Voss’s expedition. Much has been his interactions with the locals and the relationships that he’s built with them. There is a lot of anticipation from the locals over the unexplored territory that he’s going to and they think of the character Voss. Voss is very casual about the expedition and lives very much in his own world. The locals are quite the opposite. Here is an example of one interaction:
“But I am inclined to believe, Mr. Voss, that you will discover … something resembling the bottom of the sea. That is my humble opinion.”
“Have you walked upon the bottom of the sea?” the German (Voss) asked.
“No.”
“I have not,” said Voss “Except in dreams, of course. That is why I am fascinated by the prospect before me.”
That sort of “it’s my business, not yours” attitude is prevalent throughout. Voss appears to be travelling very much for his own enrichment as a person.
Perhaps what I should take away from this book is that I too need to be travelling for my own personal benefit and not react to other’s assumptions and judgments. I should be happy to be somewhere new to me, personally, regardless if it’s overtly touristy or nothing deemed “special” by others.
I recently spoke with my native European friend who's currently abroad herself in Canada. I told her about where I'm going next week, and her reaction was along the lines of "there's better places to go to/ that's a bit touristy". This wasn't meant to be offensive at all, just her honest opinion. I appreciate the honesty. But an American's experience in Bruges compared to a Finnish person's would be considerably different and I need to keep this in mind. As a "non-native", of course things are going to seem different.
I'm looking forward to this next week travelling outside of France. I'm going with my own point of view and that's satisfying enough for me.
-Maria
What is Art?
Somebody, please tell me that you love Michelangelo, da Vinci, Raphael, and Rubens' artwork, because I do not. Reading "The Innocents Abroad", Mark Twain, says "he was also dismissive of the art of Michelangelo, da Vinci, Raphel, and Rubens," I thought I was the only one in the whole world who did not like these great artists works, and I am sorry if you do love art or their works. I am one of those people, who have tried, even taken a class in Art Appreciation, but I cannot simply seem to understand what it is that people love in art.
When we visited the Strasbourg Museum of Modern Art, to tell you the truth, and I hate to disappoint Gregory, for I saw he has a lot of passion for art, and he himself is an artist, but there is nothing I saw at the Museum that wowed me, let along the painstaking explanation Gregory put in explaining the curves and how the artist was feeling working out those little curvy objects, in the name of art.
Please, just understand, even in France, the historical buildings have all those sculptures, but I see them as old and worn out and wish they could be taken down. Even Mark Twain, strangely shares my feelings when he "speedily wrote off St. Mark's Cathedral in Venice, noting that "Its hoary traditions make it an object of absorbing interest to even the most careless stranger, and thus far it had interest for me; but no further....Every thing was worn out...." I apologize for my distaste of art and if a Museum was the last place on earth I would need to visit, in my entire life, then, I am sorry, I would have to pass.
Like Mark Twain, "while his disappointment in art and most antiquities was growing, his respect for craftsmanship was increasing, sometimes to his own surprise" I can feel him wholeheartedly, because I share his same sentiments, except I have respect for the craftsmanship and architectural designs of the French houses and buildings. I could almost fill my entire camera with photographs of the half-timbered houses, brightly colored houses, some looking like no amount of thought was put into designing them, but still catching my eye. I am loving them all and my camera has stayed rather busy every time I am on the bus or on the trams and I could almost see myself making a whole book of photos of these unique little houses. What is their history and what do they represent? Gregory might help me understand, why I am finding myself completely immersed into the art of French house designs.
As a matter of fact, it was only yesterday, I realized that I am weary of Atlanta's skyline. Everything coming up seems to be all glassed up and squared in shape, I would wish some city in Georgia would borrow some French housing designs to give those people who do not travel abroad a sense of art in architecture outside subdivision vinyl covered homes that are so common place and boring to look at for long. - Caroline
When we visited the Strasbourg Museum of Modern Art, to tell you the truth, and I hate to disappoint Gregory, for I saw he has a lot of passion for art, and he himself is an artist, but there is nothing I saw at the Museum that wowed me, let along the painstaking explanation Gregory put in explaining the curves and how the artist was feeling working out those little curvy objects, in the name of art.
Please, just understand, even in France, the historical buildings have all those sculptures, but I see them as old and worn out and wish they could be taken down. Even Mark Twain, strangely shares my feelings when he "speedily wrote off St. Mark's Cathedral in Venice, noting that "Its hoary traditions make it an object of absorbing interest to even the most careless stranger, and thus far it had interest for me; but no further....Every thing was worn out...." I apologize for my distaste of art and if a Museum was the last place on earth I would need to visit, in my entire life, then, I am sorry, I would have to pass.
Like Mark Twain, "while his disappointment in art and most antiquities was growing, his respect for craftsmanship was increasing, sometimes to his own surprise" I can feel him wholeheartedly, because I share his same sentiments, except I have respect for the craftsmanship and architectural designs of the French houses and buildings. I could almost fill my entire camera with photographs of the half-timbered houses, brightly colored houses, some looking like no amount of thought was put into designing them, but still catching my eye. I am loving them all and my camera has stayed rather busy every time I am on the bus or on the trams and I could almost see myself making a whole book of photos of these unique little houses. What is their history and what do they represent? Gregory might help me understand, why I am finding myself completely immersed into the art of French house designs.
As a matter of fact, it was only yesterday, I realized that I am weary of Atlanta's skyline. Everything coming up seems to be all glassed up and squared in shape, I would wish some city in Georgia would borrow some French housing designs to give those people who do not travel abroad a sense of art in architecture outside subdivision vinyl covered homes that are so common place and boring to look at for long. - Caroline
Spleen
"He himself, he realized, had always been most abominably frightened, even at the height of his divine power, a frail god upon a rickety throne, afraid of opening letters, of making decisions, afraid of the instinctive knowledge in the eyes of mules, of the innocent eyes of good men, of the elastic nature of the passions, even of the devotion he had received from some men, and one woman, and dogs."
-Patrick White, Voss
I find myself intrigued with the utter complexity afforded to this man named Voss; A man created in the mind of Patrick White and "compeled" into the Outback of Australia on his neverending quest for knowledge. Though I cannot liken myself to Voss in the sense that he considers himself to be a God, as is evident in lines such as, "The map? I will first make it." (surely I do not consider myself as knowledgable, nor do I find myself to have an omnipotent command over my surroundings), I do find myself on a constant quest of the mind. Overwhelmed with the vast expanse of the world before me, I am sporadically bewildered by the complexity of the "elastic nature of passions", and the devotions of others, whether they be attached to me over whatever else. Haunted and frequently at war with myself, I venture into the unknown, much like Voss, in search of answers to those greater questions which probe at the core of one's conscience, in opposition of my stifling fears and idiosyncracies, never forgetting myself.
Voss chose to venture into the Australian outback on foot, braving the intense heat, pummling rain and perhaps most frightening of all: the unknown. Present throughout the novel is a tortured tension between Voss and himself and between Voss and his lost love Laura. The distance between the two was one of the most striking aspects of the novel. Both Laura and Voss desperately hold on to their bond throughout Voss's journey through the outback, albeit this bond was vaguely established to begin with. I believe the phrase "love at first sight" applies, as prior to his adventure into the vast wilderness, they had only conversed two or three times. Despite the rather unconventional establishment of their mutual admiration, their connection remains strong throughout their separation. The nexus formed between the two is something that could only be described as beautiful; A love that can survive without words or touch, both primal and unconsciously serene.
I am not in love, but I do have a stong connection with my world back home, in America. Friends that I consider to be my "best" are those whom I speak with the least. Perhaphs, in our experiences together, though not nearly as short lived as Voss' and Laura's, will permeate thoughout my life, whether we keep in touch while I'm oversees or loose touch altogether. I am, in much less of an epic sense, on a journey of self discovery and expansive emotional realization. I've had my hardships since I've been here, taking refuge in books and music, much like Voss did in the caves during the days of downpour. He lost men and animals. His spirit was often all but crushed. One thing remained, however, his love for Laura, just as my connection with those I hold most dear will always exist, aiding me in the continuance of my seemingly neverending quest.
Tomorrow we leave for Brussels. I am quite excited at the prospect of uninhibited travel throughout Europe, hindered only by monetary restraints. In a weeks time, I will visit what I consider to be the unknown. Verdun, Luxembourg, Brussels and Amsterdam: Four countries in which I have never traveled in just one week! This is an undertaking which should supercede all of my previous journeys leaving me with a renewed sense of self and a greater understanding of this great Vossian expanse that we call Earth. For this I am grateful.
-Patrick White, Voss
I find myself intrigued with the utter complexity afforded to this man named Voss; A man created in the mind of Patrick White and "compeled" into the Outback of Australia on his neverending quest for knowledge. Though I cannot liken myself to Voss in the sense that he considers himself to be a God, as is evident in lines such as, "The map? I will first make it." (surely I do not consider myself as knowledgable, nor do I find myself to have an omnipotent command over my surroundings), I do find myself on a constant quest of the mind. Overwhelmed with the vast expanse of the world before me, I am sporadically bewildered by the complexity of the "elastic nature of passions", and the devotions of others, whether they be attached to me over whatever else. Haunted and frequently at war with myself, I venture into the unknown, much like Voss, in search of answers to those greater questions which probe at the core of one's conscience, in opposition of my stifling fears and idiosyncracies, never forgetting myself.
Voss chose to venture into the Australian outback on foot, braving the intense heat, pummling rain and perhaps most frightening of all: the unknown. Present throughout the novel is a tortured tension between Voss and himself and between Voss and his lost love Laura. The distance between the two was one of the most striking aspects of the novel. Both Laura and Voss desperately hold on to their bond throughout Voss's journey through the outback, albeit this bond was vaguely established to begin with. I believe the phrase "love at first sight" applies, as prior to his adventure into the vast wilderness, they had only conversed two or three times. Despite the rather unconventional establishment of their mutual admiration, their connection remains strong throughout their separation. The nexus formed between the two is something that could only be described as beautiful; A love that can survive without words or touch, both primal and unconsciously serene.
I am not in love, but I do have a stong connection with my world back home, in America. Friends that I consider to be my "best" are those whom I speak with the least. Perhaphs, in our experiences together, though not nearly as short lived as Voss' and Laura's, will permeate thoughout my life, whether we keep in touch while I'm oversees or loose touch altogether. I am, in much less of an epic sense, on a journey of self discovery and expansive emotional realization. I've had my hardships since I've been here, taking refuge in books and music, much like Voss did in the caves during the days of downpour. He lost men and animals. His spirit was often all but crushed. One thing remained, however, his love for Laura, just as my connection with those I hold most dear will always exist, aiding me in the continuance of my seemingly neverending quest.
Tomorrow we leave for Brussels. I am quite excited at the prospect of uninhibited travel throughout Europe, hindered only by monetary restraints. In a weeks time, I will visit what I consider to be the unknown. Verdun, Luxembourg, Brussels and Amsterdam: Four countries in which I have never traveled in just one week! This is an undertaking which should supercede all of my previous journeys leaving me with a renewed sense of self and a greater understanding of this great Vossian expanse that we call Earth. For this I am grateful.
10/20/2011
[BlogTitle]
I am a little late with this blog but this past week has seemed to fly by. Also this whole experience is starting to be a fast blur. It seems like yesterday I was meeting Christina in the airport. I am worried that next time a blink my eyes I will be in my living room looking up at a Christmas tree. In fact I have the most mixed of feelings. I do miss my family and friends however, I do not really miss much else, except the Mexican food.
This past weekend I journey to Nice and Monaco. It was a nice little trip and I could tell post of the beautiful beach or of the extremely rich in Monaco but seeing as how I spent around 24 hours on a train I will talk about that. I love riding the train, perhaps not for 24 hours, because I love to just stare out of the window watch the world pass me by and think while Conor Oberst sings a ballad in my ears. I was thinking about my future and what I want to do. Not just which grad school or law school I want to go to but things like where will I live and other future adult things. Then I thought you cannot really plan anything but your next step. Then that decision will lead to your next. The Art of Travel talks about Van Gogh going to the south of France to paint even though his brother urges him not to go and to stay in Paris. This one decision really made him famous, of course not in his lifetime. Most of his famous painting came from him going to the south of France. So I thought, maybe instead of trying to worry about everything in the future I will just take it one step at a time.
-Tyler Underwood
This past weekend I journey to Nice and Monaco. It was a nice little trip and I could tell post of the beautiful beach or of the extremely rich in Monaco but seeing as how I spent around 24 hours on a train I will talk about that. I love riding the train, perhaps not for 24 hours, because I love to just stare out of the window watch the world pass me by and think while Conor Oberst sings a ballad in my ears. I was thinking about my future and what I want to do. Not just which grad school or law school I want to go to but things like where will I live and other future adult things. Then I thought you cannot really plan anything but your next step. Then that decision will lead to your next. The Art of Travel talks about Van Gogh going to the south of France to paint even though his brother urges him not to go and to stay in Paris. This one decision really made him famous, of course not in his lifetime. Most of his famous painting came from him going to the south of France. So I thought, maybe instead of trying to worry about everything in the future I will just take it one step at a time.
-Tyler Underwood
10/19/2011
The Exotic and The Foreign.
Chapter III in The Art of Travel is dedicated to the exotic of the unfamiliar. De Botton goes to Amsterdam and sees that the simplest things are exotic. I understand where he gets this, I've been traveling a lot by train and I have seen that this is my favorite mode of transportation. Not because of the De Botton way of thinking that you just zone out and think of things that you'll never think of, but because of the unfamiliarity of a train ride.
In the States we don't hop on a train to get to another state, we drive a car or fly a plane. But train rides are the most foreign to me, the most exotic. Every aspect of them I love; people coming and going, the arrival of a destination and looking out the window to see what town we've happened upon, constantly seeing a new landscape. It's something that I can get use to and something that when I'm back in the States I may have to hop on the Amtrak and see where it can take me.
Jessica Fitzgerald
Remembering the Great Things
I've had a lot of time on my hands and I have been traveling a lot. During this time I find that every new place I see, every country or city I visit I compare to Strasbourg. Sometimes we find ourselves frustrated with where we are in Strasbourg and getting out of town makes us the most happy. But when we arrive to these destinations we begin to compare, starting at the train station, to accommodations, to breakfast, cuisine, cleanliness, nightlife, friendliness, and any other characteristics that make a town. Every time, we find that Strasbourg is not so bad and it has, just like every other city out there, it's differences.
In The Great Railway Bazaar, Theroux quotes Mr Meagles from Little Dorrit, "'One always tends to forgive a place as soon as it's left behind" (25 Theroux). After moving four times in the last four years I always find this to be true. There are always things that frustrate me in the cities that I live, but once I have left it behind, the negativities are forgotten, everything that I have left behind are pleasant memories. This includes Strasbourg in a small scale. I see the positives of Strasbourg, when I run into a city with dirty streets and dirty men. I always love the places I have lived in once I have put them in the past, those memories never let me down. I know that when I go home to Atlanta, these three months will be remembered as some of the greatest.
Art For Art's Sake
I was really pleased yesterday to finally be together as a class again - our meetings have seemed sporatic - and to clear up some course groundwork and move on to an engaging talk on art history and art today. I appreciated the wide ranging comments and questions, and I look forward (despite the weather) to visiting the Modern and Contemporary Art Museum later today.
In a sense, the history of art came to a close sometime in the 20th Century, I mean at least that history that included narrative flow and progressive development. Anybody looking at the chapel Giotto painted in Padua in 1400 and the one Michel Angelo painted in Rome a hundred years later would know which came first. But there does not seem to be any intrinsic qualities to the urinal Marcel Duchamp placed in a gallery in 1917 that clearly delineate it from the over-sized balloon poodle sculptures Jeff Koons put in the Versailles Palace last year. Yet these two artworks are considered, art historically, as prominent as those two churches. Would any Renaissance artist be able to tell which came first? One wonders.
10/18/2011
When Nature Calls...
Wordsworth's argument concerning our identities is a principle that has been racking my brain since I read the words. I do not disagree with the argument that we change according to whom and sometimes what we are with. I find this to be so true that I have made a conscious effort to see when and where this change would happen. It was this past weekend.
Visiting the French Riviera has been a great experience and a much needed break from the monotony of Strasbourg. Simply being near the beach allowed me to forget about all that only hours ago I was fretting about. With my peers, our conversations merely consisted of wonderful, memorable food, of reminiscent stories of Italy and the beauty of the city we were witnessing. These may seem like natural conversations but hours before that, our conversations consisted of school and all its maladies, transportation and all of its maladies. School was not mentioned once simply because our location had changed to something we synonymously relate to being on holiday. We worry in Strasbourg of things we should such as class, excursions, money and all other facets that accompany living in a city. In Nice, next to the beach looking at the houses built on hills and cliffs, and soaking up the sun, we were able to not mention our worries, if only for a weekend. Our concerns no longer consisted of the maladies we found in Strasbourg but rather the disappointment that Strasbourg could never be Nice.
I do believe Wordsworth was also commenting on the sins and temptations that a city offers as opposed to the good and beautiful that the country offers. I find this to be true. Perhaps it does not resonate with the Riviera experience I had over the weekend but nevertheless, I felt that I could relate my weekend trip to Wordsworth words.
Visiting the French Riviera has been a great experience and a much needed break from the monotony of Strasbourg. Simply being near the beach allowed me to forget about all that only hours ago I was fretting about. With my peers, our conversations merely consisted of wonderful, memorable food, of reminiscent stories of Italy and the beauty of the city we were witnessing. These may seem like natural conversations but hours before that, our conversations consisted of school and all its maladies, transportation and all of its maladies. School was not mentioned once simply because our location had changed to something we synonymously relate to being on holiday. We worry in Strasbourg of things we should such as class, excursions, money and all other facets that accompany living in a city. In Nice, next to the beach looking at the houses built on hills and cliffs, and soaking up the sun, we were able to not mention our worries, if only for a weekend. Our concerns no longer consisted of the maladies we found in Strasbourg but rather the disappointment that Strasbourg could never be Nice.
I do believe Wordsworth was also commenting on the sins and temptations that a city offers as opposed to the good and beautiful that the country offers. I find this to be true. Perhaps it does not resonate with the Riviera experience I had over the weekend but nevertheless, I felt that I could relate my weekend trip to Wordsworth words.
French Buddies!
Classes at the Ecole de Management have been interesting and easy to get accustomed to. Although, I am taking six classes, the schedules are spaced out enough that I, not only, have plenty of time to study for each one thoroughly, but also time to travel on the weekends. Recently though, as more and more of my class schedules collide, I find that I have less and less free time at the Chateau. Unfortunately, I have chosen not to take any French courses in school but have been able to practice my French around town and with other students. I have also signed up for a language exchange program where I will be partnered with a French student that wants to improve their English while helping me improve my French at the same time. Making friends here has been a challenge but I can only express hope at this new program that will open the doors to meeting many students. Now that classes are in full swing, teams, projects and papers are now being demanded and set deadlines are being established. I am currently working with both other international and French students in a group project where they have been able to answer any question I have from, 'where the coolest club is in town' to 'when do we plan study sessions for the final'. My academic as well as social life have been interweaving smoothly only recently and I have been changing my personal habits in order to prevent this flow from being obstructed. Living here now for six weeks and finally referring to Strasbourg as home for the time being rather than Atlanta, it has been easier to feel at home and feel like I belong. With these new attitudes resulting from meeting new friends or becoming familiar with the city, I am able to enjoy my classes and create a stress free study zone as well as plan weekend trips to desired destinations. I hope the weeks to come are just as interesting and peaceful as this transition to this new university has been.
Typical
Before my study abroad, my life consisted of a series of unfortunate events. Nothing too grave, but just enough to have me wish I was anywhere else doing anything else much like my fellow philosopher, Gusave Flaubert. I never had one specific location like Flauber. My dreams and fantacies involved the entirety of Europe. I dreamed and ached for the lights of Paris, the warmth of Italy, and the sophistication of England as I sat behind a desk at either work or school. Nor do I hold Atlanta in the disdain that Flaubert had for France.I do love Atlanta as a city but the same cannot be said for my feelings towards all of its people.I share Flaubert's sentiments described as believing "the French bourgeoisie was a repostiory of the most extreme prudery, smobbery, smugness, racism and pomposity." I find Atlanta to have all these qualities for all the wrong reasons. I walked the streets with people that found their lives revolving around the right club, at the right time, with the right outfit. Had their Saturday night not met these requirements, the were forced to try and convince everyone they were actually cool until they had another chance to redeem themselves the following weekend at the club deemed 'popular' by others. I found myself not even visiting parts of the city in order to avoid this mindset and pretentious display of Atlanta's own bourgeoisie on Friday and Saturday nights.
Now that I have been able to finally leave on my journey, I have found that I can still relate to Flaubert on his discovery of the real Egypt as I have now discovered Europe. Before arriving, I had twenty-two years to idealize the monuments, cities, and people in Europe and everything I thought that lacked in Atlanta would be found on this continent. Currently, my six month stint in the European continent includes expectations not met, let-downs, and even bad experiences, this does not mean my attraction to Europe was misconceived. I find my exact sentiments toward Europe now mirrored by Flaubert's senitments, " simply replace an absurdly idealized image with a more realistic but never the less still profoundly admiring one, he exchanged a youthful crush for a knowledgeable love." You may say that it is typical to have the 'perfect picture'in you mind destroyed when you actually experince it but now I find it typical to not have this picture destroyed but rather altered. Altered from a different point of view to a new one, altered because of gained knowledge or altered because of new experiences. Having your opion changed because of these situations are typical and necessary to the adventure of travel.
Now that I have been able to finally leave on my journey, I have found that I can still relate to Flaubert on his discovery of the real Egypt as I have now discovered Europe. Before arriving, I had twenty-two years to idealize the monuments, cities, and people in Europe and everything I thought that lacked in Atlanta would be found on this continent. Currently, my six month stint in the European continent includes expectations not met, let-downs, and even bad experiences, this does not mean my attraction to Europe was misconceived. I find my exact sentiments toward Europe now mirrored by Flaubert's senitments, " simply replace an absurdly idealized image with a more realistic but never the less still profoundly admiring one, he exchanged a youthful crush for a knowledgeable love." You may say that it is typical to have the 'perfect picture'in you mind destroyed when you actually experince it but now I find it typical to not have this picture destroyed but rather altered. Altered from a different point of view to a new one, altered because of gained knowledge or altered because of new experiences. Having your opion changed because of these situations are typical and necessary to the adventure of travel.
10/17/2011
Baudelaire was a Dumbass....Just My Opinion
A couple weeks ago, the group was forced on another mandatory excursion to Haut-Koenigsbourg Castle and to Struthof. I know that many of us complain about these excursions, why on earth would we be interested on waking up at the butt- crack of dawn (slight exaggeration, but really no one likes getting up early on a Saturday) in order to see some centuries old castle that has been ripped down and rebuilt so many times that hardly any of the original structure remains? If it was not for the planned trips then I know that I typically would not view these excursions as must do's on my European list of sights to see. However, I do appreciate the fact that I do get to experience this part of history. It's the sense of history that a place like Haut- Koenigsbourg holds that draws me in to exploring it. One gets the sense of wonderment about what happened there, who lived there and what was their daily routine. Especially growing up as a child you relate castles to kings and queens, princes and princesses, knights in shining armor and the all around fairy tale feeling. It's when you discover the real occurrences behind those huge thick walls that you get the real story. The fact that many castles were built in order to keep strange and evil enemies away from the main sources of power, the bigger cities where the real kings and queens lived. The fact that so many gave up their lives to protect someone who probably didn't even know what was going on in that particular castle. Or perhaps not, maybe the castle was simply there as a note of how rich a particular lord was, maybe it was there to protect the people who lived in the village below. It's the history of such a place, that draws people to it, not really the fairy tale stories that one hears as a child, but its when you grow up and and what you are taught in school about the realities of such structures. That is what drew me into discovering the story of Haut-Koenigsbourg. You cannot really get how amazingly real these structures are until you really go there.
It surprises me when in De Botton's book, he talks about the character Charles Baudelaire, who always dreamt as a child to travel and experience what the world has to offer, but later on would gain a heavy "ambivalence" towards the whole institution. He described Baudelaire as perfectly content to sit in his library and simply read about all the places he was interested in, instead of going out there and getting his hands dirty. I believe that I pity Baudelaire. What kind of person are you, when you have no real life experiences outside of your little bubble to create the person you want to be? You dream of the certainty of your life when you are young, you want to be an astronaut or a veterinarian, however, in order to become those things you must go out into the world, away from your comfort zone and experience things. Those experiences shape you in the person you want to be. Therefore, if Baudelaire did not go out and live his childhood dreams, had no- dirt- under- the- fingernails experiences. Then what kind of man was he really?
It surprises me when in De Botton's book, he talks about the character Charles Baudelaire, who always dreamt as a child to travel and experience what the world has to offer, but later on would gain a heavy "ambivalence" towards the whole institution. He described Baudelaire as perfectly content to sit in his library and simply read about all the places he was interested in, instead of going out there and getting his hands dirty. I believe that I pity Baudelaire. What kind of person are you, when you have no real life experiences outside of your little bubble to create the person you want to be? You dream of the certainty of your life when you are young, you want to be an astronaut or a veterinarian, however, in order to become those things you must go out into the world, away from your comfort zone and experience things. Those experiences shape you in the person you want to be. Therefore, if Baudelaire did not go out and live his childhood dreams, had no- dirt- under- the- fingernails experiences. Then what kind of man was he really?
Help me, I'm poor!
I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a poor college student. I survive off of Ramen and pizza, and this is definitely not by choice. Luckily, I have my mother to help me when needed, but my mom would’ve been no help on this weekend.
A group of us ventured down to Nice for a nice little getaway. While there, we took the city bus over to Monaco too see the famous principality and even more famous casino. When we got on the bus I could already tell we were going to very nice place. The bus looked brand new and was just so fancy, unlike the buses of Strasbourg and Morgantown. After a 40 minute bus ride with breath-taking views from the mountain top, we finally arrived in Monaco. We went to the office of tourism to see what all Monaco had to offer on a college student’s budget.
I had one thing in mind that I wanted to see: Monte Carlo! I saw the movie this summer starring Selena Gomez and promised my friends that I’d go see this place in real life. Let me just say the movie didn’t do the place justice. It was beautiful. The building was surrounded by waterfalls, gardens, and cobble stone streets. Not to mention, it was overlooking a yacht harbor. As we got closer to the actual casino, the first thing I noticed was all of the cars: Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Rolls Royce’s, Aston Martins, Bentleys. Was this real life? I’d only seen these cars in rap videos and now they were all around me. I was dying to see the inside of the casino (if the outside was this nice, can you imagine the inside?!). …however we had a problem. There was a dress code, which included no jeans. Not only did I have on jeans, but my jeans had holes in them! I felt like peasant. There was no way I was going in there and embarrassing myself and having everyone look down at me. So we continued through Monaco which only made me feel even more peasant-like. On the street next to the casino we ran into shopping heaven, if I were a millionaire. Louis Vuitton, Cartier, Hermes, Prada, Fendi, Gucci. I felt like most of the stores were too expensive for me to even window shop. We explored Monaco a little more, but got out of there quickly and headed back to nice, which now felt like the slums and where I belonged.
I know I sound like I was miserable while in Monaco, but everything I couldn’t afford in material possessions was made up for in memories. The beauty was unreal and one day I know I’ll go back and fit in with the rich people.
A group of us ventured down to Nice for a nice little getaway. While there, we took the city bus over to Monaco too see the famous principality and even more famous casino. When we got on the bus I could already tell we were going to very nice place. The bus looked brand new and was just so fancy, unlike the buses of Strasbourg and Morgantown. After a 40 minute bus ride with breath-taking views from the mountain top, we finally arrived in Monaco. We went to the office of tourism to see what all Monaco had to offer on a college student’s budget.
I had one thing in mind that I wanted to see: Monte Carlo! I saw the movie this summer starring Selena Gomez and promised my friends that I’d go see this place in real life. Let me just say the movie didn’t do the place justice. It was beautiful. The building was surrounded by waterfalls, gardens, and cobble stone streets. Not to mention, it was overlooking a yacht harbor. As we got closer to the actual casino, the first thing I noticed was all of the cars: Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Rolls Royce’s, Aston Martins, Bentleys. Was this real life? I’d only seen these cars in rap videos and now they were all around me. I was dying to see the inside of the casino (if the outside was this nice, can you imagine the inside?!). …however we had a problem. There was a dress code, which included no jeans. Not only did I have on jeans, but my jeans had holes in them! I felt like peasant. There was no way I was going in there and embarrassing myself and having everyone look down at me. So we continued through Monaco which only made me feel even more peasant-like. On the street next to the casino we ran into shopping heaven, if I were a millionaire. Louis Vuitton, Cartier, Hermes, Prada, Fendi, Gucci. I felt like most of the stores were too expensive for me to even window shop. We explored Monaco a little more, but got out of there quickly and headed back to nice, which now felt like the slums and where I belonged.
I know I sound like I was miserable while in Monaco, but everything I couldn’t afford in material possessions was made up for in memories. The beauty was unreal and one day I know I’ll go back and fit in with the rich people.
This weekend...
I am writing this blog post from a train to Freiburg from Munich. This has been one of the most amazing weekends I have ever had, especially because I wasn’t expecting anything exciting to happen. My friend from Munich came to Strasbourg to visit me last Thursday and ended up staying the entire week which was nice. I felt at home showing him around Strasbourg – all the best restaurants, bars, wines, and everything else that is cool about Strasbourg. We then went to Salzburg, Austria because he had job matters to attend to and ended up staying there the entire weekend.
Specifically, we stayed in a small town called St. Gilgan which lies between many of the Alps. We knew nothing about this town and didn’t even have a place to stay which made it more fun. We immediately met some Australians and Italians who went to an international school there. They told us that St. Gilgan is the town where Mozart grew up. His old house is currently a museum that holds many concerts per year. I also learned that he was named after St. Wolfgang who lived in the town in the middle ages and was known for discovering a spring that is said to have healing powers for the eyes. I saw this spring as I hiked to the top of the Falkenstein peak, which is part of the Alps.
After leaving Salzburg, we came to Munich and I finally got to see BayarnMünchen game! It was so great to see a great team that has so many of the best players in Europe on it, in one of the coolest stadiums in Europe. I ate traditional German food, drank German beer, and even learned the traditional football behavior. You shout certain things out when someone scores and sing certain songs at certain times. This is why I love Europe so much because it intertwines tradition with modern activities.
While all this was so much fun, I experienced being in two countries where I cannot communicate with people easily. Luckily, David was there to order food, ask questions, and get me on my train easily or I would be screwed. It was awkward not knowing what was being said or what exactly was on a menu at a restaurant. This reminded me of Botton talking about what exactly “exotic” meant, which to me means words like “teftpunkt”, “Bitte”, and “Weiner schnitzel” (which is delicious). This was a cultural and philosophical journey and it isn’t over yet.
French Italy!
The long-awaited time of traveling all over Europe has begun! I don't think I'll end up spending more than a few days in the next four weeks actually at the Chateau. Nice, France, was the destination that started it.
Everyone had been very excited, and I really didn't know what to think. I could picture Marseilles, but Nice had never been a place I'd given much thought. What do they have there, seafood? Beaches? Well, kind of. They have delicious seafood, actually, but their beach is strip of smooth gravel with some overly yellow sand in a rectangle (I guess it was imported from who knows where, the Sahara?). Regardless, I think this place is a real winner.
Maybe I was imagining it, but were they speaking French with a sort of Italian rhythm? Does their gelato taste like the most perfect, heavenly creation? Yes. Aside from that, the Notre Dame Cathedral here looks like the Little Mermaid's palace. The open squares and wide boulevard closed into adorable little streets full of tacky tourist shops and little bars.
I think I found the missing part of the Caribbean. I'm not even mad, though. It was a pleasant surprise, and I don't care who you are, staring out into the Mediterranean Sea is never a bad experience.
10/16/2011
Baguettes, français, and bad Mexican food – oh my!
“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard.” – Wizard of Oz
Last spring I took a film class that focused a lot on feminist theory and criticism of the movie industry. One of the films that we had to critically look at was The Wizard of Oz. A lot of the focus of the criticism was that the film sent the message to women and children that they’re better off staying at home than going out in the world. This criticism made a lot of sense to me. I’ve always disliked the character of Dorothy since she was so childish (dumb?) and helpless in the movie. So it made sense to me that the message of the film would be as equally debasing to the female psyche.
But after now having been away from the US and my family and friends for five months, I’m starting to feel like I’m in Oz myself. I’ve made myself a (sometimes odd) cast of new friends throughout this time, I’ve got some direction of sorts (my yellow brick road), and I’m seeing places like I’ve never seen before! And I won’t deny that I feel helpless and things are sometimes out of my control. Perhaps these are generally the only parallels I have with the Kansas native. Of course there are times when I feel like I’m trapped in the witch’s castle and I want dearly to go home. Just this past week I've been hit by a bit of homesickness and longing just for one day back at home. (Okay, maybe there was a little bit of obsessing over home today since I did spend multiple hours trying to find the ideal/cheapest flight back to the States.) However, most of the time I feel like I’m on a great adventure with friends and hopefully growing as a person.
I can’t believe that I’m able to see this film through a different perspective, again. But at least this time it’s my own. I’ll certainly continue to go further than my backyard, but I think I’ve learned a lot about what my heart wants.
-Maria
Last spring I took a film class that focused a lot on feminist theory and criticism of the movie industry. One of the films that we had to critically look at was The Wizard of Oz. A lot of the focus of the criticism was that the film sent the message to women and children that they’re better off staying at home than going out in the world. This criticism made a lot of sense to me. I’ve always disliked the character of Dorothy since she was so childish (dumb?) and helpless in the movie. So it made sense to me that the message of the film would be as equally debasing to the female psyche.
But after now having been away from the US and my family and friends for five months, I’m starting to feel like I’m in Oz myself. I’ve made myself a (sometimes odd) cast of new friends throughout this time, I’ve got some direction of sorts (my yellow brick road), and I’m seeing places like I’ve never seen before! And I won’t deny that I feel helpless and things are sometimes out of my control. Perhaps these are generally the only parallels I have with the Kansas native. Of course there are times when I feel like I’m trapped in the witch’s castle and I want dearly to go home. Just this past week I've been hit by a bit of homesickness and longing just for one day back at home. (Okay, maybe there was a little bit of obsessing over home today since I did spend multiple hours trying to find the ideal/cheapest flight back to the States.) However, most of the time I feel like I’m on a great adventure with friends and hopefully growing as a person.
I can’t believe that I’m able to see this film through a different perspective, again. But at least this time it’s my own. I’ll certainly continue to go further than my backyard, but I think I’ve learned a lot about what my heart wants.
-Maria
A Train Ride Away
One of the things I was struck by here is how radically different a culture can be if you just take an hour train ride away. In Europe, take an hour train ride, and you can be in a brand new country, with people speaking an entirely different language, who have a unique history and ideals different from the place you just came from.
Even when you travel just an hour within the same country, things change dramatically. For instance, I went on a day trip this weekend to Nancy, which is located in Lorraine. Despite being right next to Alsace, Nancy barley reminded me of Strasbourg. Almost everything was in a totally different style of architecture, something I was not expecting at all. Much of it was in the style of Art Nouveau—a beautiful style from the late 1800s that apparently had been very popular in Nancy. The people, along with the food, were just as different from Strasbourg.
It took me off guard how different Nancy was. Sure, I expected other parts of France to be different from Strasbourg—but I expected the “different” parts to be quite far away. At first, I thought this radical change was something totally exclusive to Europe. But then when I started reflecting on it more, I realized the exact opposite.
Cultures are just as radically different were in my own country. Because even in the United States, travel for a couple hours and you’ll find varying styles of architecture and people with values entirely different from ones an hour away. Even in small states, it’s actually rather easy to find huge difference if you go from one city to the next. Every place has its own unique history and geography that has transformed in it into the place it is today. My own home town is basically centered around the university that exists there—go 30 minutes away and you’ll find a place that looks nothing like my own, with people who sound nothing like they sound in my home town, and where their center of being revolves around coal.
I’ve always recognized that America is actually pretty different from place to place. I’ve just never give it much thought before. But in Europe, when I encountered this, I immediately exoticized this idea of how quickly places change from one town to the next. And I can honestly say I’m not sure why I did this. Do I have a stereotype of France just being a singular culture that just enjoys croissants and wearing stripped shirts? Or am I simply finding things more fascinating because I’m in a country different from my own? I’m not really sure yet.
Now, I have to wonder if there are any other parts of “French culture” that have stood out to me as exotic simply because it’s not what I perceive to be “American culture.” I will have to be on my guard for doing this in the future.
Comfort
The sermon at church today was about anger and hate. It came out of Matthew 5:17-26 and it talks about how hating your brother or another human being is the same as murder. Though I did benefit from this, it was not the piece that stuck with me. The part that stuck with me was Ephesions 4:26 where the word of God tells us to be angry and sin not, and to not let the sun go down while we are angry. I am guilty of this. On Friday, I became so angry about certain condition that I went in my room and stayed there. I went to sleep and woke up the exact thing on my mind and that made me even more angry. I let it interfere with me, the me that likes to talk, the me that likes to sing, the me that likes to laugh out loud. I completely let the situation control me. So, in that, I know that I can't let uncontroble habits of people frustrate me because just like I become frustrated with others I know there is someone out there frustrated with me.
After service, I met up with a family. But while waiting on the family to finish fellowshipping I met some students. I can not recall their names but one was from Australia, there was girl from Finland that I take a class with at the EM, a few french natives, and finally, someone from Atlanta, Georgia. That was so comforting. She did not got to college in Atlanta but she did grow up there and I shared with her how I felt kind of out of place for the first couple weeks and also how I went in my room and cried. She told me that she went through something similar and assured me that I would soon get over my hump. Of coarse, I we exchanged numbers and I'm looking foward to talking to her and asking her lots of questions. She is teaching here, I think, and she has been here for over a year. That is totally inspiring and it is really nice finding people that you can relate to. So even though it has been six weeks, I'm finding a place to make a footprint. I'm going to prayer meeting at family's home on tuesday and they also have a power hour for the young christians, so I'm involving myself in activities here just like I would involve myself at home. I'm becoming French and this might be place in which come back and visit without all of the academic responsibilities. It's a drag at time.
After service, I met up with a family. But while waiting on the family to finish fellowshipping I met some students. I can not recall their names but one was from Australia, there was girl from Finland that I take a class with at the EM, a few french natives, and finally, someone from Atlanta, Georgia. That was so comforting. She did not got to college in Atlanta but she did grow up there and I shared with her how I felt kind of out of place for the first couple weeks and also how I went in my room and cried. She told me that she went through something similar and assured me that I would soon get over my hump. Of coarse, I we exchanged numbers and I'm looking foward to talking to her and asking her lots of questions. She is teaching here, I think, and she has been here for over a year. That is totally inspiring and it is really nice finding people that you can relate to. So even though it has been six weeks, I'm finding a place to make a footprint. I'm going to prayer meeting at family's home on tuesday and they also have a power hour for the young christians, so I'm involving myself in activities here just like I would involve myself at home. I'm becoming French and this might be place in which come back and visit without all of the academic responsibilities. It's a drag at time.
Much Needed Walk in the Park
So, after Church today I came home and decided to watch one of my favorite movies " All about the Benjamins". Towards the end of the movie, my phone rang. It was Petra, a new aquaintance that is becoming a friend. She says, " I'm coming over to the Chateau to get my cuttiing boards and I was going to try to get Jim and Jan to take a walk with me in the park, do you want to come?" How random is that! She is such a random person and that is just what I need because I am too structured at times. I find myself being on the extreme right, being too resposible, too senseable, and over thinking everything. So any way I met her at the gate by the restaurant, I don't want to write the name for fear of getting it wrong, and we started to walk and talk. While talking, or after talking to her, I realized that I get bothered by a lot of small stuff and I let it kind of take a way from who I am. She on the other hand, is 40 and she's worried about less than I am. Isn't that backwards. This is the time where I'm supposed to be taking my risks, learning from my mistakes and having fun, but I'm too old for my age and worried about unnecessary things. I guess I'm so worried about ruining my life that I'm not living.
Anyway I realized that I in the process of losing my old self, Little Macy, and coming into the Lady that I am supposed to be. I think that's why I become frustrated at times because I am in transition and it is difficult to know exactly what to say or do because I coming out of the Macy that I thought I was, into the Macy that I really am. I'm totally both, so I kind of don't know who I am right now. So think I'll continue to exist and slowly come into my living and enjoy this internal change despite the frustration that comes along with it.
Anyway I realized that I in the process of losing my old self, Little Macy, and coming into the Lady that I am supposed to be. I think that's why I become frustrated at times because I am in transition and it is difficult to know exactly what to say or do because I coming out of the Macy that I thought I was, into the Macy that I really am. I'm totally both, so I kind of don't know who I am right now. So think I'll continue to exist and slowly come into my living and enjoy this internal change despite the frustration that comes along with it.
Who is going to have enough "balls"?
Yesterday, Tyler Collins and I visited Kehl, Germany, even though it did not feel like going to another country, for me, who have had the experience of living in interlocked countries, and still needing a passport to travel in and out of those countries, namely Uganda, Tanzania and Rwanda, it felt really nice, knowing that in the EU citizens of different countries are now free to mingle with each other peacefully and without any travel documents. You see for us from the U.S. of course moving from one state to another is very normal because of what was put in place by our Founding Fathers, so most Americans cannot understand the feeling I felt crossing into Germany, no visa required, no passport required and no different currency required, no immigration declarations and so forth.
It is hence my dream that one day, the EU will be federated like the U.S., one common currency for all, one common travel document for all and one common language for all! This might be far fetched, but I would want to think that it is the next fundamental reform required in the EU.
Coming back to France and using our bus passes felt just simply wonderful. The EU has achieved so much in the free movement of people, I wonder why then the Member States find it so hard to lose sovereignty. The integration of Europe will never amount to anything much, unless Member States decide to loose their sovereignty! Europe will be great when it is one Nation, one People, this is like asking for the impossible but that was Schman/Monnet's idea in the first place, it has taken 50+ years to make some meaningful "baby steps", is it going to take another fifty or so years to make the next major steps?
As I read more into the EU integration, I hope I shall come across somewhere, where one of the Member States is willing and ready to lose their sovereignty, this might be the only cue other Member States are waiting for, and even though I do not know much of the politics in Europe, I hope still one Member State will be brave enough to set the ball rolling. I wish it was as simple as I am putting it, but I know of course, it is not ever going to be easy, but hey, some Member State got to have enough balls to do it, how, I do not know, but surely hope for that.
It is hence my dream that one day, the EU will be federated like the U.S., one common currency for all, one common travel document for all and one common language for all! This might be far fetched, but I would want to think that it is the next fundamental reform required in the EU.
Coming back to France and using our bus passes felt just simply wonderful. The EU has achieved so much in the free movement of people, I wonder why then the Member States find it so hard to lose sovereignty. The integration of Europe will never amount to anything much, unless Member States decide to loose their sovereignty! Europe will be great when it is one Nation, one People, this is like asking for the impossible but that was Schman/Monnet's idea in the first place, it has taken 50+ years to make some meaningful "baby steps", is it going to take another fifty or so years to make the next major steps?
Dead as Dreams
“The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer...We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.”
- George R.R. Martin
I've been dreaming lately. Vivid, strange dreams that seem to carry on through the morning hours after I wake, pervading even in the afternoon, after I've had my coffee. Even now I'm dreaming. My thoughts are clouded, still wrapped in the blanket of warm sleep. Arduously meandering in the cold, like a fire that burns against the coming of winter. "Nothing burns like the cold."
What is most peculiar about these dreams, is that they should not even take place. It is as if my subconscious is consistently sending me messages in my sleep. Subtly suggesting a righteous path, unlocking caged creativity, but never with force.
Complexions, conceptions of gold wheat, lavender sky, pink synthetics, and black red blood congealing on the cracked hardwood. Snakes that bite, and glass that breaks, unleashing a boundless torrent of salamanders. Tortured wailing, imprisoned with fear. A symphony of throats. Cut yourself and see if you bleed. Are you black inside? Escape. To be alone on the shores of the lake of the falling rockets. Clutching the sand. Becoming the jagged black landscape.
The sky wept a cascade of burning orbs.
I used to dream. That was a long time ago; Before I took an SSRI which ultimately prohibits me from indulgent, creative slumber. I took these unconscious adventures for granted, dismissing them as mere frivolities with meager significance. However, it is becoming quite clear that these dreams hold a much greater purpose, of which I'm not sure if I will ever be aware. Which brings me to the conclusion that I should allow them to grow, these fantastical visions that bring me such elation when I lose myself in them. No longer will I only dream when I am awake. I've been a zombie for too long, casting a seemingly infinite shadow, decaying with every solemn breath, extinguishing the flames of my imagination. Every breath. So many moments gone to waste. I fear that without drastic change, I will continue to die rather than live.
Throttling black existence in rivers of fire and religion.
Androgynous.
These torrid visions.
I'm still dreaming.
I went to a power tools factory. I went to a strip mall. I'll take refuge in a forest today, wiser than I, old as time itself. Alone with my thoughts and my friends. What am I to make of this life, these sights and sounds?
"Learn to feel all over again.
My name is anonymous.
I taste like everyone.
Medication blurs the last five percent."
-J.R. Hayes
-Tyler Collins
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.”
- George R.R. Martin
I've been dreaming lately. Vivid, strange dreams that seem to carry on through the morning hours after I wake, pervading even in the afternoon, after I've had my coffee. Even now I'm dreaming. My thoughts are clouded, still wrapped in the blanket of warm sleep. Arduously meandering in the cold, like a fire that burns against the coming of winter. "Nothing burns like the cold."
What is most peculiar about these dreams, is that they should not even take place. It is as if my subconscious is consistently sending me messages in my sleep. Subtly suggesting a righteous path, unlocking caged creativity, but never with force.
Complexions, conceptions of gold wheat, lavender sky, pink synthetics, and black red blood congealing on the cracked hardwood. Snakes that bite, and glass that breaks, unleashing a boundless torrent of salamanders. Tortured wailing, imprisoned with fear. A symphony of throats. Cut yourself and see if you bleed. Are you black inside? Escape. To be alone on the shores of the lake of the falling rockets. Clutching the sand. Becoming the jagged black landscape.
The sky wept a cascade of burning orbs.
I used to dream. That was a long time ago; Before I took an SSRI which ultimately prohibits me from indulgent, creative slumber. I took these unconscious adventures for granted, dismissing them as mere frivolities with meager significance. However, it is becoming quite clear that these dreams hold a much greater purpose, of which I'm not sure if I will ever be aware. Which brings me to the conclusion that I should allow them to grow, these fantastical visions that bring me such elation when I lose myself in them. No longer will I only dream when I am awake. I've been a zombie for too long, casting a seemingly infinite shadow, decaying with every solemn breath, extinguishing the flames of my imagination. Every breath. So many moments gone to waste. I fear that without drastic change, I will continue to die rather than live.
Throttling black existence in rivers of fire and religion.
Androgynous.
These torrid visions.
I'm still dreaming.
I went to a power tools factory. I went to a strip mall. I'll take refuge in a forest today, wiser than I, old as time itself. Alone with my thoughts and my friends. What am I to make of this life, these sights and sounds?
"Learn to feel all over again.
My name is anonymous.
I taste like everyone.
Medication blurs the last five percent."
-J.R. Hayes
-Tyler Collins
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