I'm done-done-done-done with Arabic, as of about 4 hours ago! Since then I have: made a tomato and basil salad for iftar tonight (my professor is having us all over for when he and his wife break fast for Syrian food, awesome), watched Moulin Rouge while lying on a friend's floor while we ate chocolate chips out of the bag, and walked around downtown. Now I'm lying on my couch, listening to Mack the Knife on repeat and writing this. It is perfect weather right now, blue skies and high-70s, with only a few clouds. Lovely.
I think I passed, but more importantly, I'm DONE (done! did I mention that I'm done?) Not just done, though, but mentally checked out. One thing about intensive language courses is that they do not leave much time for anything else. Yes, I was at dinner and a bar for a friends birthday last night when I maybe should have been studying (whoops, but I have my priorities straight!) but by and large my summer has been reading, thinking, speaking, and writing Arabic with a good deal of socialization thrown in for good measure. I had grand plans about doing PhD research, reading some faculty books, starting cover letters, updating my resume..none of which happened. I did read two chapters of one Venetian art book, but that's nothing to write home about, is it? I meet with my supervising professor tomorrow and the other AI tomorrow (I'm an associate instructor for Renaissance to Modern this fall, ye gods) and I keep forgetting that I have to teach in 2 1/2 short weeks! Gahhh. (excited!! but gahhh.)
In glancing over this I see that I am abusing exclamation points a bit, but I'm actually pretty impressed that I can still write semi-coherently. I've been having trouble forming sentences (even more so than usual) over the past week or so, which shows how much brain drain I've been feeling. For instance, two days ago I was on the bus and tried to say "heated seats" and instead said "seated heats." I've taken to gesturing a lot and just believing that people will figure it out. (they usually do, but not always.) And it's not just me--my entire class and all of my friends in language classes this summer have sort of been unspooling lately. This conversation happened last night:
Friend: My paper is all wet from that..you know...
Me: Spill? What?
Friend: Starbucks juice...
Me: What?
Friend: Starbucks water..on the glass.
Me: Sweetie, what are you talking about?
Friend: ...CONDENSATION!
Rather stupidly, we've also been doing a lot of crosswords lately--we attempted one while watching Moulin Rouge and got decently far into it, but my brain just needs a break. I've been trying harder Sudoku lately too and may need to lay off that for a little while.
So anyway, the Pain Train has pulled into the station and I have disembarked. It's been a pretty fun ride, but I'm ready to be on non-moving ground again. As we say in Arabic, al-hamdu lillah! (it's not super translatable, but mostly means, "by the grace of god." It's very close to Hallelujah!) AL-HAMDU LILLAH!
Thursday 11 August 2011
Sunday 7 August 2011
Art of the Week: Oceanic Feeling
I've been thinking about the ocean a lot lately, because
1. Shark Week on the discovery channel is just wrapping up, so I've spent a lot of time watching shows about sharks and other ocean dwellers this week with my friends--we even had a Shark Week party, and bought a 6 foot long shark kite to hang from the ceiling. There were cupcakes with Swedish fish on them, and a whole mess of unrelated non-fish themed food. It was pretty excellent. Also, sharks are super smart.
2. My parents and a large chunk of my extended family are going to Cape Cod for the week and I'm pretty envious--I would kill for a crabcake (or several) right now, and I MISS MY FAM!
3. I live in landlocked Indiana, I have an Arabic final in four days, and I want to stick my feet in a sizable body of water.
Today's post will be about ocean-themed art by Winslow Homer. If I weren't so weirdly obsessed with 17th century popes, I would switch my art history area to American to study Winslow Homer. He had so many different phases and styles; his watercolors are stunningly gorgeous and his oil paintings are sometimes edgy, or controversial, or poignant. He was a camp artist during the Civil War, and those works are so worth a look. He dealt with slavery, emancipation, nature, veterans, the ravages of war, and New England in all its rocky glory, among many other subjects. Maine was his safe haven and his place of comfort, and many of these ocean works come from that--although he also spent some time in England and the Carribbean, too. Enjoy. I know I did. And if you are curious about these works, we spent a lot of time on them in my Gilded Age class, and I can give you more info if you so desire! (Trust me, I'm not doing him justice here.)
Breezing Up (A Fair Wind), 1873-1876. Boys playing at men--learning to be fishermen, which will some day be their livelihood. A game, but a very serious one.
Two Girls on the Beach, Tynemouth (1881) One constant through Homer's work is his interest and concern with current problems of the time--here, for instance, with labor and survival. There were brave men on the sea, but there were also brave women on the shore.
The Water Fan (1898-99). You know what is perfect? The blues in this watercolor are perfect. The Art Institute had this as the front image for a recent works on paper show and one of my friends has a massive poster of it in her apartment. It's pretty awesome.
The Life Line (1884), a work showing the removal of passengers, one by one, from a sinking ship. What is interesting about this painting is that both scholars now and commentators in Homer's time used to write about Homer like he WAS a fisherman, instead of just a painter of them. Did he want to be a fishermen? Did he want to feel helpful and rugged? In any case, he captured people who may not have otherwise been portrayed. Two slightly weird facts about The Life Line: it was bought by a tobacco heiress, and the rope is fraying in the pulley, which just makes it even more dramatic. According to people in the know (ie, my friends), this work is in Philly, and the droplets of water on the rope are worth the price of admission. I don't doubt it.
Eagle Head, Manchester (1870) Dog = voyeur, bare legs = scandalous, basically. When this work was printed in a magazine shortly therafter, the legs had been covered up by long bathing costumes and the dog had been replaced by a bathing cap, which amuses me.
Eastern Point Light (1880) Love the monochrome in this work.
Gulf Stream (1899). I find this work straight up horrifying, but also can't look away. A lot of scholarship deals with this painting, which is located in the Met (and let me tell you, I saw it in March and the blood in the water looks even more scary in person). I think a pretty reasonable interpretation is that this is an allegory of emancipation--the man on the ship has been "freed" but not helped, and now the sharks are coming for him. He is in danger, and though there is a ship far far away on the horizon, it probably will not arrive on time. The cane stalks on the deck of the boat may reference his former status as a slave, and they can't be used to help him. The mast has been completely broken off--he has no sail, no luck, and no chance. And the sharks get closer.
Gloucester Sunset (1880), and the only thing I wrote in my notes about this was "watercolor, STUNNING," which pretty much sums it up!
I leave you now with a work by one of my favorite poets, my super sister Liz.
On the dangers of open water
—to Herman Melville
A foreign beauty dwells in oceans deep.
It traces through the flowing strands of grass
that twine and twirl beneath the rippling glass
of waves, then breaks upon the shore. In sleep
all sailors dream of siren songs that creep
into our heads and drive us to the mast
of any ships (of any size) that pass.
This beauty we don't understand will sweep
us out to sea. We look for it below
our bows, but if we try to understand
the workings of that beauty we perceive,
we're driven mad by all we cannot know.
We force ourselves to roam between the strands
till, like Narcissus, drown to find reprieve.
1. Shark Week on the discovery channel is just wrapping up, so I've spent a lot of time watching shows about sharks and other ocean dwellers this week with my friends--we even had a Shark Week party, and bought a 6 foot long shark kite to hang from the ceiling. There were cupcakes with Swedish fish on them, and a whole mess of unrelated non-fish themed food. It was pretty excellent. Also, sharks are super smart.
2. My parents and a large chunk of my extended family are going to Cape Cod for the week and I'm pretty envious--I would kill for a crabcake (or several) right now, and I MISS MY FAM!
3. I live in landlocked Indiana, I have an Arabic final in four days, and I want to stick my feet in a sizable body of water.
Today's post will be about ocean-themed art by Winslow Homer. If I weren't so weirdly obsessed with 17th century popes, I would switch my art history area to American to study Winslow Homer. He had so many different phases and styles; his watercolors are stunningly gorgeous and his oil paintings are sometimes edgy, or controversial, or poignant. He was a camp artist during the Civil War, and those works are so worth a look. He dealt with slavery, emancipation, nature, veterans, the ravages of war, and New England in all its rocky glory, among many other subjects. Maine was his safe haven and his place of comfort, and many of these ocean works come from that--although he also spent some time in England and the Carribbean, too. Enjoy. I know I did. And if you are curious about these works, we spent a lot of time on them in my Gilded Age class, and I can give you more info if you so desire! (Trust me, I'm not doing him justice here.)
Breezing Up (A Fair Wind), 1873-1876. Boys playing at men--learning to be fishermen, which will some day be their livelihood. A game, but a very serious one.Two Girls on the Beach, Tynemouth (1881) One constant through Homer's work is his interest and concern with current problems of the time--here, for instance, with labor and survival. There were brave men on the sea, but there were also brave women on the shore.The Water Fan (1898-99). You know what is perfect? The blues in this watercolor are perfect. The Art Institute had this as the front image for a recent works on paper show and one of my friends has a massive poster of it in her apartment. It's pretty awesome.The Life Line (1884), a work showing the removal of passengers, one by one, from a sinking ship. What is interesting about this painting is that both scholars now and commentators in Homer's time used to write about Homer like he WAS a fisherman, instead of just a painter of them. Did he want to be a fishermen? Did he want to feel helpful and rugged? In any case, he captured people who may not have otherwise been portrayed. Two slightly weird facts about The Life Line: it was bought by a tobacco heiress, and the rope is fraying in the pulley, which just makes it even more dramatic. According to people in the know (ie, my friends), this work is in Philly, and the droplets of water on the rope are worth the price of admission. I don't doubt it.Eagle Head, Manchester (1870) Dog = voyeur, bare legs = scandalous, basically. When this work was printed in a magazine shortly therafter, the legs had been covered up by long bathing costumes and the dog had been replaced by a bathing cap, which amuses me.Eastern Point Light (1880) Love the monochrome in this work.Gulf Stream (1899). I find this work straight up horrifying, but also can't look away. A lot of scholarship deals with this painting, which is located in the Met (and let me tell you, I saw it in March and the blood in the water looks even more scary in person). I think a pretty reasonable interpretation is that this is an allegory of emancipation--the man on the ship has been "freed" but not helped, and now the sharks are coming for him. He is in danger, and though there is a ship far far away on the horizon, it probably will not arrive on time. The cane stalks on the deck of the boat may reference his former status as a slave, and they can't be used to help him. The mast has been completely broken off--he has no sail, no luck, and no chance. And the sharks get closer.Gloucester Sunset (1880), and the only thing I wrote in my notes about this was "watercolor, STUNNING," which pretty much sums it up!I leave you now with a work by one of my favorite poets, my super sister Liz.
On the dangers of open water
—to Herman Melville
A foreign beauty dwells in oceans deep.
It traces through the flowing strands of grass
that twine and twirl beneath the rippling glass
of waves, then breaks upon the shore. In sleep
all sailors dream of siren songs that creep
into our heads and drive us to the mast
of any ships (of any size) that pass.
This beauty we don't understand will sweep
us out to sea. We look for it below
our bows, but if we try to understand
the workings of that beauty we perceive,
we're driven mad by all we cannot know.
We force ourselves to roam between the strands
till, like Narcissus, drown to find reprieve.
Monday 1 August 2011
Weekend Firsts
Here are some things that I did this weekend for the first time ever, some of which I may never do again.
Went Indoor Rock Climbing
A friend of mine is into this, so another friend and I went with him. We signed a bunch of wavers, rented climbing shoes (which are different from gym shoes in that the toes are deliberately stiff since you have to perch on those little toeholds), and headed into the climbing room. It's not very tall here, only about 12 feet probably, so they don't do harnesses. One wall was straight up (and was therefore a bit easier) and the other one curved. Both had routes taped out for you to follow, some being a lot harder than others.
Now, as it transpired, I am genuinely terrible at rock climbing. Part of it is not my fault--it is a sport which is much better for long-limbed, slender people, and I am 5"3' on a good day, and spectacularly ungraceful to boot. I could not finish any of the routes, because the last move is usually to pull yourself up and I just do not have long enough arms! And my arm muscles are pretty nonexistent. When I told my father how bad I was, he said, "of course you were honey, you don't have any upper body strength," and he's right. This is a different type of upper-body strength too, centered in your forearms and wrists, which are muscles that get neglected when I go to the gym! My arms hurt so much the day after that I had to turn my head upside down to wash my hair since I couldn't raise my arms. It was still fun, mostly because some of the other people were really good--one guy was climbing with just his hands! And, I chalked my hands, so I didn't get any blisters.
Fell off the Rock Wall
Did I mention that I'm really ungraceful? I got better at switching my feet on a toehold, but the first few times I fell, which wasn't a big deal as a large part of this is dropping off the wall when you're done. But the last time, I was standing about 5 or 6 feet off the floor (I had gotten better as the day went on, so this is the highest I was standing), and fell. And landed on my ankle. I thought it was fine--I'm no stranger to rolling my ankles--but then we went garage-saleing and I walked to the grocery store and went out that night and it swelled up. I iced yesterday and have been elevating today, but it's pretty puffy. It doesn't hurt if I'm just walking, but stairs are pretty painful, as is flexing my foot. So, rock climbing may not, in fact, be the sport for me.
Made Pie Crust
I made blueberry pie yesterday and made pie crust for the first time without my mother's direct supervision and it turned out quite well! The pie hadn't set fully before I cut it so it was a bit of a mess, but it was tasty. Photographic evidence: (we consumed half the pie before I got my camera out)
Played Table Shuffleboard
We went to a bar which we don't usually frequent, because during the school year it is filled to the GILLS with hipsters. It's a nice place though, and less crowded in the summer, which is nice. The reasons for its popularity are the games they have: skeeball and table shuffleboard, as well as really decently priced drinks. I got pretty good at regular shuffleboard in high school, and usually say that I am the best at sports which your average 75-year-old could play, i.e. shuffleboard, bocce, ping pong, and badminton. Table Shuffleboard is the same concept as regular, you just use your hand instead of a stick thing. It was really fun. THAT is a sport which I can do!
I also bought some boots and a shirt at a friend's garage sale, studied Arabic, watched Jeeves and Wooster, and cleaned my apartment. And, as always, the weekend was not quite long enough.
Went Indoor Rock Climbing
A friend of mine is into this, so another friend and I went with him. We signed a bunch of wavers, rented climbing shoes (which are different from gym shoes in that the toes are deliberately stiff since you have to perch on those little toeholds), and headed into the climbing room. It's not very tall here, only about 12 feet probably, so they don't do harnesses. One wall was straight up (and was therefore a bit easier) and the other one curved. Both had routes taped out for you to follow, some being a lot harder than others.
Now, as it transpired, I am genuinely terrible at rock climbing. Part of it is not my fault--it is a sport which is much better for long-limbed, slender people, and I am 5"3' on a good day, and spectacularly ungraceful to boot. I could not finish any of the routes, because the last move is usually to pull yourself up and I just do not have long enough arms! And my arm muscles are pretty nonexistent. When I told my father how bad I was, he said, "of course you were honey, you don't have any upper body strength," and he's right. This is a different type of upper-body strength too, centered in your forearms and wrists, which are muscles that get neglected when I go to the gym! My arms hurt so much the day after that I had to turn my head upside down to wash my hair since I couldn't raise my arms. It was still fun, mostly because some of the other people were really good--one guy was climbing with just his hands! And, I chalked my hands, so I didn't get any blisters.
Fell off the Rock Wall
Did I mention that I'm really ungraceful? I got better at switching my feet on a toehold, but the first few times I fell, which wasn't a big deal as a large part of this is dropping off the wall when you're done. But the last time, I was standing about 5 or 6 feet off the floor (I had gotten better as the day went on, so this is the highest I was standing), and fell. And landed on my ankle. I thought it was fine--I'm no stranger to rolling my ankles--but then we went garage-saleing and I walked to the grocery store and went out that night and it swelled up. I iced yesterday and have been elevating today, but it's pretty puffy. It doesn't hurt if I'm just walking, but stairs are pretty painful, as is flexing my foot. So, rock climbing may not, in fact, be the sport for me.
Made Pie Crust
I made blueberry pie yesterday and made pie crust for the first time without my mother's direct supervision and it turned out quite well! The pie hadn't set fully before I cut it so it was a bit of a mess, but it was tasty. Photographic evidence: (we consumed half the pie before I got my camera out)
Played Table Shuffleboard
We went to a bar which we don't usually frequent, because during the school year it is filled to the GILLS with hipsters. It's a nice place though, and less crowded in the summer, which is nice. The reasons for its popularity are the games they have: skeeball and table shuffleboard, as well as really decently priced drinks. I got pretty good at regular shuffleboard in high school, and usually say that I am the best at sports which your average 75-year-old could play, i.e. shuffleboard, bocce, ping pong, and badminton. Table Shuffleboard is the same concept as regular, you just use your hand instead of a stick thing. It was really fun. THAT is a sport which I can do!
I also bought some boots and a shirt at a friend's garage sale, studied Arabic, watched Jeeves and Wooster, and cleaned my apartment. And, as always, the weekend was not quite long enough.
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