I'm a Centaur! Wait...

I have a a pair of black ballet slippers, and if you just look at the toes, they look like hooves. Every time I slip them on while wearing long pants, I look down at my legs and think, "I'm a centaur! Hi-ho, awaaaaaaay!!!" Then I remember. I am not a centaur.

The Pleasures of Break

If I have done nothing else during this break, I have read. Nothing too fancy, but it has been a delight to devour books of my own choosing, at my own pace, at my own level of difficulty. Not that I don't enjoy struggling with the prose of Henry James or the ideological complexities of Ralph Ellison, but fluff (which comprises much of the books that I completed) has its place. As the Sister has done over at Vie Lyonnaise, I'm including my own list of the books I've read over the break.

Completed:
Eternal Man - Truman G. Madsen
The Turn of the Screw - Henry James
Abarat - Clive Barker
Days of Magic, Nights of War - Clive Barker
Absolute Midnight - Clive Barker
Ella Enchanted - Gail Carson Levine
assorted Edgar Allan Poe short stories
assorted articles from the "Edgar Allan Poe Review"

Started:
A Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Embassytown - China Mieville
Night's Master - Tanith Lee


To-read:
Rough Stone Rolling - Richard Bushman
Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith
The Omnivore's Dilemma - Michael Pollan


In other news, Avi, if you're out there reading this, know that I have been listening to "Morally Sound," and I adore it. I make my home-friends listen to it, and in turn it makes me everything I always wanted to be: the cool kid with (at least, comparatively) the most obscure music.

"The men felt overwhelmed by their most ancient memories in that paradise of dampness and silence, going back to before original sin, as their boots sank into pools of steaming oil and their machetes destroyed bloody lilies and golden salamanders. For a week, almost without speaking, they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief, lighted only by the tenuous reflection of luminous insects, and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood."

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

On "Maria" again

"These tints of feeling indeed were doubtless but the iridescence of his idleness, and they were presently lost in new light from Maria."

--Henry James, The Ambassadors, 12.iii

because

"The awful tragedy of this life, as of the next, is not suffering. It is "suffering in vain." Or worse, it is suffering that could have been the elixir of nobility, transforming us into a godliness beyond description which, instead, has become the poison of bitterness and alienation.

"But this is equally certain: from the smoldering rubble of our lives, stricken and agonized though they be, there can arise, through Christ, an incredible shining joy, a joy in the image of Christ who is the image of God who overcame all things."

-Truman G. Madsen, Eternal Man

On Resurfacing (Again) only to Plunge Deeper

Humblegrumblemumble. It's November, the month of much-work-to-be-done. Much work to be done, not much discipline, it's going to be a month where I'll be doing a lot of work by myself. So when I go out to be "social," I'll just have to make the most of it.

This is what my life should be like. I'm alone and there's no reference to any surrounding world. So I wouldn't even realize it - it - so I feel like there's nothing to be missed. (A lie I whisper to myself at night to compensate for the fact I'm missing everything.) Solitude, T.A. Harrison.

Musings: An Aesthetic Experience with Andrea Bocelli

So, I'm reading loads of Henry James right now, taught by an intellectual whose capacity for making connections and tying things together is supernal. I've been thinking about "aesthetic experiences" which art can elicit, and earlier I had an aesthetic experience--being moved by "Time to Say Goodbye," sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman. I'm not sure what I understood, but I was moved, almost to the point of tears, because something bigger and grander was behind me.

Listening to Bocelli and Brightman, and also being reminded of coming across Pavoretti's "Nessun Dorma" a few months ago, and I had the feeling that these songs, what they are trying to say, is reality. I don't know what they're saying (literally; I don't understand Italian!), but whatever it is, it's true and real. Just as much as the things we see, feel, deal with daily.

Maybe that "something bigger and grander" is life, real life.

Updates, On Breathing, and Dissatisfaction

What is that song they sang on Glee, No Air? Gasp, that might actually express how I'm feeling. 

It’s time to come up for a breath and recap what I've been doing (and please Bonanerz in the process). After leaving New York City in mid-August, I went Home for a grand total of four days and then was off and away back to College. And jolines, was it back to College. I wasn’t even doing schoolwork for the first two weeks, only doing training and then helping out at Orientation. Everything since… June… has been filled, busy, a whirlwind.

Now, I am immersed in the depths of schoolwork yet again. Indeed, with this wonderful, dreadful thing called thesis looming over my head, I always have something large, something bigger than myself to work on.

I see this photo and think "Little Secrets"

Immersed is the correct word to use in this case. I have been wading through possible primary sources, and taken a look at the vast ocean of information which exists about my subject. It’s thrilling, I get to engage in this conversation, perhaps even suggest something new. I get to direct my own studies. The feelings I have now are akin to those I had back in Scotland, where I was responsible for the direction and depth of my own education.

Now, the trouble will be balancing out those directions and policing myself.

In one sense, I’m incredibly satisfied with the larger project of thesis I have going on—I wish I could spend all my days researching for my topic, interspersed here and there with Henry James and occasionally Augustus and even Homer, to break it up every now and then. I wish I could shut myself in a room lined from floor-to-ceiling with books and a big table. And that my living space was separate from that space, and that I could shut myself up in there without feeling like I’m missing the world that’s bound to pass me by.

Though in other senses, too, I’m feeling unfulfilled. I wish life were more like Edinburgh, where I felt more of a separation between work/school and home-life. Maybe life as a graduate student is calling me? Probably not.

I’m also getting a feeling that I need to leave, to run away. This has happened before, possibly even been mentioned on this blog, but the enchantment distant lands hold is calling me. Somehow, the life I am living seems disenchanting. I am the same lackluster person--not that running far away will fix it.

"Finally Moving" outside of the LACMA.

Some nights, when you want to have a dance party by yourself in your room, you put in your ear buds, only to realize that the music on your iPod does not reflect your tastes, who you've become, except maybe the Coldplay (Viva La Vida was a good album) and the U2 you own (because it’s U2). I suppose I feel simultaneously too young and too old... for whatever it is that I'm trying to do.

Maybe I need a different place to grow for a while (New York, Chicago, Seattle, Boston)? Or perhaps just different music (Passion Pit, Baths, MGMT). This time, on my iPod.

Quick List of the Past Seven Days

So, my days - in reverse chronological order - have contained some neat experiences. It is almost too much to process completely, and I am barely scratching the surface when I give you my quick recant:

Sunday - I spent a wonderful day catching up with one of my closest friends as she visits in New York.

Saturday - I toured Philadelphia with two wonderful College friends! We saw the Magic Gardens of Isaiah Zagar, which were fantastical and deserve their own post, Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, and Ben Franklin's grave (which also deserve their own posts), and then walked around and discovered Philadelphia.

Friday - I went with my sister and two friends to a production of Romeo and Juliet by the Royal Shakespeare Company at Lincoln Center. It was the best Romeo and Juliet I have ever seen; truly, world-class poetry performed by world-class actors.

Thursday - I saw Metropolis, a 1927 silent German film, with two performers orchestrating the music, with yet another wonderful College friend in Brooklyn.

Wednesday -  I tried to go to a Mets game with a friend from high school. We had some pretty superb tickets, but were rained out.

Tuesday and Monday - I either did nothing, or I can't remember that far back.

Elevator Etiquette

In any large city with high rise buildings, you are bound to use elevators frequently. Some of them are the size of dumb waiters and can uncomfortably squeeze in two, while others are the size of cattle corrals and can hold twenty people.

I haven't been in a high rise city for very long, but I have come to a few conclusions about what constitute polite behaviour in the elevating area.

Talking: Take this on a case-by-case basis. I'm pretty shy, so my modus operandi is not to engage strangers at work - or even in my building - in conversation. It is acceptable to talk in the elevator to a friend in the elevator, if you do so quietly.

Other people's dogs or babies makes things easier. You can comment on how cute their child is, or ask to pet their dog. What could be an awkward 45-second ride has suddenly turned into painless pandering that's over before it's done!

Looking at people: It's kind of awkward. There are usually mirrors, so look at yourself, or if you're into taking risks, check out the hot guy in the elevator next to you. It's always a safe bet to look at the floor numbers.

Oh goodness, this is a recipe for making people boring. Don't do this stuff, don't do any of it. Talk to people in the elevator! Engage them in conversation! It doesn't matter, even if you live in the same building, because you'll either never see them or see them so rarely it won't matter.

Holding the doors: Obviously, hold them if someone is in your direct line of sight, of if they call out to hold the elevator.

It becomes tricky when you keep holding the elevator for someone who is slow, or you jump into the elevator in the nick of time and in turn hold the door for someone else - essentially, you've doubled the waiting time for the other elevatees. Be nice anyway, and ignore any prickly feelings on your neck inspired by their glowers.

Crowded elevators: I haven't mastered this one yet, but squeezing in if there's a small gap is permissible. If there is a moving company stacking things in the elevator, though, it's easier to take the stairs.


Pushing the button: If someone is getting out, don't push the "Close doors" button until they have completely exited from the elevator. Hovering over the button with your thumb as the doors are opening is poor behavior.

Avoiding all of these elevator woes: You can take the stairs! Though, depending on how your wide your stairs are, a whole new set  of etiquette may be required.

Living in New York City: Cockroaches 102

This evening, it happened again. A cockroach infiltrated the apartment.

It was scuttling around the apartment as I was on the phone with a close friend of mine, and she was subjected to my piteous wails as I watched it patter about. After a few good whines, I got out a newspaper, heavy book, and my game face, then went cockroach hunting.

I cornered it in the bathroom, waiting for my opportunity to strike. I got the heebie-jeebies when it almost ran over my toes, but a toss of the newspaper, followed closely by the heavy book, got it.

I tried not to register the crunch when I pirouetted on the heavy book.

Still on the phone with my friend, after the episode I tried going back to my dinner. Whatever was left of the roach was lying under a book - The Fall and Rise of Angelshut - and the Investment section of the Wall Street Journal.

Growing One's "Personal Brand"

Here in the city, I've become acquainted with someone who talks about "growing one's personal brand." The personal brand is essentially now-speak for being or doing something which distinguishes you from others. For example, popping out code names for everything and everyone you meet, or priding oneself on wearing interesting garments on the lower half of one's body, helps to establish a personal brand.

To me, the idea of a personal brand isn't very useful. To a certain degree, we market ourselves to other people by choosing what to show of ourselves, but putting mental energy into creating that image just isn't worth it. I am what you see, and more, and my experiences - some of them consciously chosen, others heaped upon me - have shaped this "brand" of mine.

Now, the rest of this post has nothing to do with personal branding.

Instead, it's about professional branding! Let me tout the fact that I've made my BBC debut. Given the circumstances of my summer, it is unsurprising that I've had a short post published by BBC Travel. Check out my article on the Cross Egypt Challenge.

You're getting quality writing here without having to pay a subscription or sit through advertisements. Think about that for a while.

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Unrelated to anything said above, oof, I'm on the cusp of something. I'm not being mysterious on purpose right now; even I don't know what I'm thinking or what will come out. But something is coming my way, indeed.