hemipode

I just want people to know that I am spending the evening bemoaning the lack of quality online information about yachting as a sport of the nobility in 18th century Britain. That sentence alone has got to make you feel better about your life.

Also worth sharing:
"Topiary had enjoyed a certain popularity in England ever since Tudor times. Not everybody had approved of it-- 'images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff: they be for children', growled Francis Bacon crossly. Nevertheless it kept a certain place in the affections of gardeners, who after 1660 began to devote increasing attention to it. A further boost was given to its popularity with the arrival of the House of Orange in 1689, until by 1700 it seems that something very like a topiary mania was sweeping the country." Wilson, William Kent, 1984. [italics and bold my own]

Not that you would, but don't ask me what the House of Orange is, because I don't know either. And the sad part is I actually like the professor a lot, and I feel bad that I am going to let his opinion of Americans down with whatever textual-spew I am able to conjure up within the next couple of days. But gosh I'll be glad when its done. Its amazing what kind of anxiety I get over writing papers. And this one is in english! I should be counting my lucky stars.

Besides getting my history paper (something about the relationship between the aristocracy of 18th century england and nature) written (due wednesday the first), my literature final taken (on wednesday the first), and my writing paper (interpretation of a poem by Bertolt Brecht) written (for which i have a bit more time, for better or worse), not much else is on the plate. I wish I wasn't feeling so stressed out so I could enjoy some good times with the one-semester kids before they ship off, but for the next week I'm sort of booked. And its all relatively silly, because american universities pile on the work so much more than here (and for me, normally only within a quarter's time), but there is something deceptive about studying in another country. You put all your energy into deciphering another culture, and all the daily tasks that one wouldn't even bat an eyelash at at home suddenly turn into week-long confusions, and yet the scholastic work seems to be mostly geared at helping you stutter a little less. But then they, those Surly Academics, turn around and look at you like you've actually been understanding the horrific 8:30am lecture, and suddenly you realize your whole life is a waste and why did you fall asleep last night in your bed and not at some desk in the library?

So soon enough its back to my pages of scribbled notes on oblong gardens and fox-hunting, my desperate pleas for my iBook to help me churn out the minimum number of 1.5 spaced pages so that I can get a decent grade for the one class I am actually taking in my major. It is not entirely surprising that Irony has it so that the one grade I'm concerned about is the only one that really matters.

Because of my personal distaste for the "look that's me in front of a recognizable landmark!" photos, enjoy this. It will be one of the few of this nature you will probably see from my year abroad. (The gang in front of the Brandenburger Tor)

Oh, and this past weekend I spent in der Haupstadt Deutschlands, the majestic-mesmerizing-mollifyingly-moralic Berlin. I met up with Colina and a few of her fellow toe-tappers on Thursday and enjoyed their good company till early Sunday morn. Overall I think Berlin is one of the few places I've been these past months that I really felt like I had a difficult time getting a feel for, as far as the feel of a city goes. I think that is mostly because Berlin is so huge and in a constant state of motion and change. Its just amazing what a wealth of historic awesomeness exists in one fair (read: snowy and slushie) city. We saw a lot in that short time, but not nearly as much as I'd like, so I will have to go back one of these days. Honestly the most of Berlin I saw was its sidewalks, for it was impossible to take your eyes off their iced and slippery exterior if you had the slightest idea of the fragility of the human body. Friday, the 20th of January 2006 was one of the coldest days of my life, period. A good day, but oh I can't even begin to explain. It was kinda fun to be translator for the group, and one of Colina's friends had taken german in high school, so we carried on some pretty decent conversations as well. Because its sort of the thing to do with german, at points they were having a good time making fun of the language, and about that time I realized that I don't really even hear it that way anymore. When you are listening, or talking, you are doing just that. Of course you listen for pronunciation because that is something that always needs to be worked on, and there is only really one way to go about that. But apart from that, its not words I hear anymore but meanings, and it only strikes me when I find someone's accent particularly charming. That isn't to say that I'm one of those super-humans that people seem to expect to emerge from an extended stay in a non-english speaking country. I don't know who came up with the if-you-are-there-then-you-must-be-fluent-or-at-least-almost rule, but I haven't met many people like that. At least, people whose minds aren't trapped in the I'm-better-than-you closet.

And to completely negate what I said in the previous photo's caption, here is a picture of me smiling awkwardly about a few decades of communist oppression. But hey, now it's art! (remnant of the Berlin Wall)

And tomorrow I have a dental appointment. My dental vocabularly doesn't exist far past Zaehne and Kiefer, but as with most things these days, hope for the best and we'll see what happens.