Ok, so my wireless access here is very limited, which is why I'm having such a difficult time uploading pictures and stuff that I take.
I've been meaning to write a whole lot more but I've found it difficult to find a time where I want to be just sitting inside writing, when I could be outside exploring all the magical wonders of this place.
Oddly enough, Rome feels more like home than providence did, Except for all the ancient buildings, of course. Same climate. similar vegetation (I had no idea they had palm trees here!). and of course, a very similar sense of language barrier, especially since Italian and Spanish are quite similar.
I am doing fantastic, so no worries. I start Italian classes on Monday and art history classes on Tuesday, and I haven't even begun to think about working on my project that I'm planning to do, which has changed a bit but is still the same sort of audience, but that will all come in time.
Italy has a much different pace than the US. Everyone seems much more relaxed here. they have more patience (except when it come to driving) and they put their own happiness and their family before work. It seems that because of this, Italians are just much happier overall.
It's nice to lead a very simple life, all this technology and consumerism today just makes things a heck of alot more complicated and really adds very little to ones own quality of life. Encase I haven't told you yet, my new goal is to learn how to play the banjo. I just need to find one first. So far, I have had zero luck finding one in Italy, not that I've actually looked that hard, or even expect to find one here, but wouldn't it be cool if I did?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
I did not save a life today, but I did the best I could
Winding along the country road.
Up a hill I walk, the weight on my back and bike to my side a non-hindrance to the beauty of the wooded land around me.
Just as I am about to hop back on the bike for a quick run down the other side of the hill, I notice out of my peripheral a struggle happening just on the other side of the road.
I drop my loads and approach the small male Robin, looking as if it is somehow tethered to the ground, in an eternal struggle to sit upright and fly away.
Ever so gently I gather it up into my arms, carefully checking for injuries. Nothing seems hurt or broken, but the robin, unusually content to be wrapped up in my hands, is twirrping in alarm, occasionally throwing it's head back and looking at me in distress.
I place it gently back onto a soft bed of dried leaves in the woods, hoping for some improvement from its previous state, and walk back to retrieve my things from the side of the road.
But I cannot go.
I hear the poor robin's shrill twirrping and its struggle to get up from where I left it.
It is calling out for help. It is scared about what is happening to it.
I approach it once again.
Convulsions from its small, light body prevents it from getting to its feet, and as it struggles against the seizer wrecking through its body it lunges forward and flips over onto its back, where it chirps and stares at me in distress. it would seem that it is unable to use its feet, but I bend down and reach out to it. With it's mouth stained red from whatever poison berry it had sampled earlier, the Robin grasps onto my finger as it lies there on its side and it seems as if even this small gesture helps to calm its nerves.
Afraid it's going to injure itself in its struggle, I pick it back up and hold it close, preventing the seizer from taking over, while trying to calm the little robin. Not really knowing what else I can do for it, I sit on a rock and just hold it, stroke its back, calm it down. It continues to chirp and twitter, and every once in a while it throws its head back and just stares into my eyes.
I do not know how long i have been sitting here trying to give what little comfort I can to the poor thing. 5 minutes. 10. Maybe more.
This robin is going to die in my arms, I realize, as I sit there on a rock in the woods on the side of a road.
I am dying, he tells me. Thank you for staying with me.
Then the seizers stop. He is calm. His head slowly drops into an eternal rest.
There is no reviving this tired bird's little heart.
I gently fold up its wings and, with its body still warm, lay it down on the earth beneath a large mother Oak deeper into the woods.
I walk back to the side of the road and continue on down the hill, along the long and winding country road, cool and peaceful this time of day.
Up a hill I walk, the weight on my back and bike to my side a non-hindrance to the beauty of the wooded land around me.
Just as I am about to hop back on the bike for a quick run down the other side of the hill, I notice out of my peripheral a struggle happening just on the other side of the road.
I drop my loads and approach the small male Robin, looking as if it is somehow tethered to the ground, in an eternal struggle to sit upright and fly away.
Ever so gently I gather it up into my arms, carefully checking for injuries. Nothing seems hurt or broken, but the robin, unusually content to be wrapped up in my hands, is twirrping in alarm, occasionally throwing it's head back and looking at me in distress.
I place it gently back onto a soft bed of dried leaves in the woods, hoping for some improvement from its previous state, and walk back to retrieve my things from the side of the road.
But I cannot go.
I hear the poor robin's shrill twirrping and its struggle to get up from where I left it.
It is calling out for help. It is scared about what is happening to it.
I approach it once again.
Convulsions from its small, light body prevents it from getting to its feet, and as it struggles against the seizer wrecking through its body it lunges forward and flips over onto its back, where it chirps and stares at me in distress. it would seem that it is unable to use its feet, but I bend down and reach out to it. With it's mouth stained red from whatever poison berry it had sampled earlier, the Robin grasps onto my finger as it lies there on its side and it seems as if even this small gesture helps to calm its nerves.
Afraid it's going to injure itself in its struggle, I pick it back up and hold it close, preventing the seizer from taking over, while trying to calm the little robin. Not really knowing what else I can do for it, I sit on a rock and just hold it, stroke its back, calm it down. It continues to chirp and twitter, and every once in a while it throws its head back and just stares into my eyes.
I do not know how long i have been sitting here trying to give what little comfort I can to the poor thing. 5 minutes. 10. Maybe more.
This robin is going to die in my arms, I realize, as I sit there on a rock in the woods on the side of a road.
I am dying, he tells me. Thank you for staying with me.
Then the seizers stop. He is calm. His head slowly drops into an eternal rest.
There is no reviving this tired bird's little heart.
I gently fold up its wings and, with its body still warm, lay it down on the earth beneath a large mother Oak deeper into the woods.
I walk back to the side of the road and continue on down the hill, along the long and winding country road, cool and peaceful this time of day.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Coon' Island- day 1
ok, so here's a excerpt from my memoirs thus far. A few things have been changed from the original version in the interest of internet privacy. Also, I have no experience or training in story writing, so I'm sorry if my story-telling ability kinda sucks.
Coon' Island
The grand escape started out innocently enough.
Stealing out of the house.
Moving South.
Pad Tai for two and one lost shoe later and we were on our way.
Down the highway.
But the clouds overhead had already decided that this would not be made an easy journey for us.
Soon enough the heavens opened up and poured fourth a mighty rain that beat down upon us like a ne'er ceasing native drum. The world was dark save for the flashes of light that streaked across the sky and turned, if only for a moment, the night back to day.
The mighty river washed the world away and we struggled to see what lie just ahead, finding our old guides lost to all sights, instinct and hope was all that was guiding us across the now invisible path. Eventually we came upon the lake and were ferried across to Coon' Island, where the warm cabin lights shining through the night beckoned us in.
I hadn't been to this place since the winter retreat, when the cold winds drove a snowy blizzard across the then frozen lake and drove us all inside to huddle together by the wood stove. The floor was piled high with mattresses, pillows, sleeping bags and blankets upon blankets in lou of a bed. With the frost seeping through every crack in the 100 year old lake house, we spent the short days and long nights singing songs and telling stories in our den while one of the men sat in the rocking chair by the stove and whittled himself a small pipe.
What a difference those few short months had made! Though the sun was already long gone from the sky, a bunch of the guys, dawned in the wetsuits they found drying in the downstairs bedroom, decided to go out for a midnight swim in the lake and play games off the tippy dock. While I myself wasn't so keen on diving into the cold dark water after spending those long hours cooped up n the car, I went out to the boathouse to catch a breath of the cool night night air and soak in the wonderful place that I was blessed enough to find myself in once again.
All was dark on the island.
The storm clouds that had followed us here had all vanished, leaving the moon-less night sky to the power of the stars, which had splattered themselves across the vast black canvas. Through the darkness I could just make out the thick blanket of fog creeping across the lake, rising up like steam off of the water and dissipating into the atmosphere. Over the sound of the water gently lapping up against the dock that wrapped around the boathouse, I could just make out the splashes of water and shouts of laughter coming from my friends attempting to throw each other off the tippy dock in the distance.
Back in the cozy lake house, those who had opted out of the midnight swim were settling in nicely.
A couple of the guys had started a game of chess while the rest of us caught up with all that had gone on in our lives since we last saw each other, silently missing those dear friends who could not make the trip here, but who no-doubt were still doing well wherever they happened to be at the time. It wasn't until the wee small hours of the morning that the house finally grew dark and still, while we all drifted peacefully off to sleep, where I dreamed of beautiful white swans, once frozen, encased in ice with their great wings outstretched in preparation for flight in the icy lake, now thawed and resurrected to grace the sunny island waters once again, and of all the adventures that awaited me in the morning.
Coon' Island
The grand escape started out innocently enough.
Stealing out of the house.
Moving South.
Pad Tai for two and one lost shoe later and we were on our way.
Down the highway.
But the clouds overhead had already decided that this would not be made an easy journey for us.
Soon enough the heavens opened up and poured fourth a mighty rain that beat down upon us like a ne'er ceasing native drum. The world was dark save for the flashes of light that streaked across the sky and turned, if only for a moment, the night back to day.
The mighty river washed the world away and we struggled to see what lie just ahead, finding our old guides lost to all sights, instinct and hope was all that was guiding us across the now invisible path. Eventually we came upon the lake and were ferried across to Coon' Island, where the warm cabin lights shining through the night beckoned us in.
I hadn't been to this place since the winter retreat, when the cold winds drove a snowy blizzard across the then frozen lake and drove us all inside to huddle together by the wood stove. The floor was piled high with mattresses, pillows, sleeping bags and blankets upon blankets in lou of a bed. With the frost seeping through every crack in the 100 year old lake house, we spent the short days and long nights singing songs and telling stories in our den while one of the men sat in the rocking chair by the stove and whittled himself a small pipe.
What a difference those few short months had made! Though the sun was already long gone from the sky, a bunch of the guys, dawned in the wetsuits they found drying in the downstairs bedroom, decided to go out for a midnight swim in the lake and play games off the tippy dock. While I myself wasn't so keen on diving into the cold dark water after spending those long hours cooped up n the car, I went out to the boathouse to catch a breath of the cool night night air and soak in the wonderful place that I was blessed enough to find myself in once again.
All was dark on the island.
The storm clouds that had followed us here had all vanished, leaving the moon-less night sky to the power of the stars, which had splattered themselves across the vast black canvas. Through the darkness I could just make out the thick blanket of fog creeping across the lake, rising up like steam off of the water and dissipating into the atmosphere. Over the sound of the water gently lapping up against the dock that wrapped around the boathouse, I could just make out the splashes of water and shouts of laughter coming from my friends attempting to throw each other off the tippy dock in the distance.
Back in the cozy lake house, those who had opted out of the midnight swim were settling in nicely.
A couple of the guys had started a game of chess while the rest of us caught up with all that had gone on in our lives since we last saw each other, silently missing those dear friends who could not make the trip here, but who no-doubt were still doing well wherever they happened to be at the time. It wasn't until the wee small hours of the morning that the house finally grew dark and still, while we all drifted peacefully off to sleep, where I dreamed of beautiful white swans, once frozen, encased in ice with their great wings outstretched in preparation for flight in the icy lake, now thawed and resurrected to grace the sunny island waters once again, and of all the adventures that awaited me in the morning.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
my bunny
so there's thing design that I did for my final in Presentation class., and when I did it, it was pretty much just to show my drawing and rendering abilities, as well as good layout for presenting the idea to a group, and it had very little to do with the design or the idea itself. Never-the-less, my boss at Incase really likes it, and has been telling me that I should get it produced and marketed since I got here. For that to happen, I just need to define all the math and science in the piece (meaning that I need to give orthographic views of everything for an engineer and pattern maker, define all the inner components, joints and electrical components, and give samples of the fabrics)
He thinks that this thing could sell big on QVC, though personally I'd rather see it sold in a store such as Target and Toys R' Us. I've never had any of my designs actually manufactured before, and it seems that I'm having a hard time grasping the fact that I might actually make this dream into a reality. I find that I'm doubting myself and my own ability to make this happen. I will push it as far as it can go, and who knows what will become of it?
What do you think of the design? could you see this being sold in stores nation-wide?
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