the past few days

so... My roommate breathes. This is a problem.

not because by breathing she stays alive. I like her alive. The problem is in how she breathes. Maybe I breathe more quietly than others, but her breathing is quite ridiculous. I haven't said anything to her. What is the right thing to do in this situation? Probably suffer. But suffering through it makes me not like her as much as if I didn't have to suffer through it. That's makes sense, right? So maybe the charitable thing would be to tell her that her noisy breathing bothers me. hmmm. thoughts?

What else has been on my mind? Oh yes, I seem to have become more curious these past few days. Which is excellent, since that's the general assignment that I'm supposed to be fulfilling right now.

We went through a contemporary exhibition that is on at the Strozzinia right now. It was a competition to find the top 25 young contemporary Italian artists right now. Going through the exhibit with a guide and Zoelar and Jana was quite interesting. We kind of got into a heated discussion (the students vs. Jana) about evaluating art. I was saying how what I learned in 3D class would say that one of the sculpture pieces wasn't very good. The guide and Jana however, seemed to like it better than another sculpture. So we posed the question, "What makes one piece of artwork better than another? Can one ever say one piece of artwork is better than another?" Jana was saying it all had to do with art history. Being aware of what has been done before you. I had previously suggested to Jana that some of the historical connections she had been making may have been accidental. I think as artists, (art historians may tend to do this as well) we read into things. Can't art be created not as a critique of something created before it, but because someone had an interesting idea?

The best I have come up with for a measure of how good a piece of artwork is, is "how well did the artist achieve his/her objective?" But unless you are the artist, or have personally talked to the artist and the artist has been completely honest, one must assume that the objectives have been met completely. So then we reach the same place where one cannot evaluate art.

What else has been going on in this little head of my, you wonder? I've been having fun--we went to a discoteca last night, partly to celebrate my roommate's birthday, and it was entertaining to watch people and to interact a little with the Italian guys. Anna (my roommate) danced just a little bit with one of the guys, and she got a hug from another one when Sylva told him that it was her birthday. I didn't dance with anyone (except the girls that I was with) It's fun just to make eye contact with people though. And frankly, I'm rather shy of guys, so I didn't really want to dance with any of them anyway.

In Italy girls aren't supposed to smile at random guys on the street. It's quite a different mentality from America. In America I continually remind myself, "smile! make someone happy!" But if you smile at random people on the street here, it is seen differently. If I smile at guys it's basically saying, "I'm a hooker!" and if I smile at women, they seem confused/hostile. I think I play the "no smiling game" almost too well. People think I'm Italian if I don't open my mouth, so I generally stay quiet.

I do need to keep practicing my Italian though, and for this reason, I bought Harry Potter e la Pietra Filosofale. I'm soooo excited about it. The bookstore that I bought it at is gorgeous and huge. I think it's been my biggest purchase in Italy so far, and I definitely consider it an investment. I announced a tavola the other night "Ho finito pagina una de Harry Potter." :) They found this rather amusing, as I'm sure I would find this amusing in America have if someone my age said this to me with as much pride as I did.

I guess that's an indication of where my Italian is at. I still don't think I'd be able to read a full children's book by myself (with out the help of a dictionary). But the effort is worth it, right? I'm sure by the time I leave I'll know Italian far better than I ever knew French. (My French has sadly and quietly left my mind).

Well... maybe I should go read some Harry.

Love you all,
Leah

something I stumbledupon that i liked

like i've already said this week: i love you.

Aimer est vivre

so... here's an ambigram I designed for a tattoo for Tim. Thought I'd share...

Some photos (this is what it's really like)

Baobabs, etc

You MUST listen to this song. Before today, I didn't know it existed. Isn't that weird?

I'm eating a "biscotti" right now dipped in "New Cream"-- a nutella knock-off. delicious.

I can't tell you how delicious Italy is. If I come back to America and you can't recognize me because I gained 300 pounds, don't say I didn't warn you.

The oranges here are the best oranges I've ever tasted.

It's funny. Just in these past two and a half weeks, it seems like I've gotten my taste buds back. During Christmas break and even quite a bit before that, I had been feeling as if I wasn't enjoying food as much as I had used to. Things I knew should be yummy just weren't quite as yummy anymore. Coming to Italy has seemed to fix that. Now everything is yummy. everything except the prepackaged cheese slices that I bought. That was pretty gross. But I could taste it at least!

I'm listening to youtube right now, and it seems that there are quite a few Regina Spektor songs that I've never heard. This is blowing my mind.

I wish you (everyone who is reading this) could be in Italy with me right now.
I'm picturing you sitting on the bed, overhearing the regina music I'm playing. You are reading a book. Every once in a while you lift your head to make a comment about the day-- our dinner tonight where we couldn't stop laughing, giggling really, and now, as I'm peeling my orange, you say with a smile, "You're going to share, right?" and I say, "No!" and smile and hand you a piece. Or I might tell you to get a whole orange for yourself. And then, depending on which of you is in this scenario, you would either get an orange and start peeling while you went back to your reading, or you would say, "I just want on piece. Pleeeese? Thank you!" and then you would remark at how juicy these oranges are, and laugh because it squirted you in your eye.

I don't really know how much each of you loves me. But I know that I love you. Someone once said, "I'm not sure of anything right now. All I know is that I love you." I think this is what people mean when they say "Love is the most real thing." That phrase always seemed so abstract until now. Right now, I get it.

So... as the world spins madly on, and as you go about your lives running errands, picking up your siblings form school, doing homework, breathing the salty air from the poop deck, or going to mass, I am here in Italy riding an "autobus", or struggling with my line quality, or eating (mostly likely eating).

And if you aren't certain of anything else today, be certain of this: Someone in Italy is loving you.

Oranges, tea, and everything good and holy

Today I sat in Theme Sequence from 9-4 thinking about/studying a jar of beans. yes, beans. and as I drew and thought and ate an orange, I eventually came to the realization that is this: The general population in America is so spoiled that they would not relish a jar of beans. I concluded that beans are healthy, beans are wholesome, beans are vital, nutritional, basic. Beans are holy. I think there are only a few other precious foods that exist that are as holy as beans.

Beans are simple and good.

Beans nourish without prejudice. They are the Mary and the Jesus of food. Religion is not some abstract, elaborate, magical thing. Religion, really, is nutritional. Religion, really, is simple.

Beans can lead us to holiness.

a poem (kind of spontaneous)

like stars exploding in the night
spreading pools of energy, swirls of light.
spiders being born, let loose their thread
to find a place to call their own
to find a place to think, to be alone.
like spiders exploding in the light
spreading their legs, terror and fright.

Note Book

I bought a little note book today at the 99 (euro) cent store.

on the cover it says:

Don't forget it.
I'm always waiting for you.
Let's go happy world.

and then in little letters at the way bottom it says:
I wanna a little fairy of sweet small!

(that's not a typo with "wanna a")

anyway...
more to come.
as in, fun.
(come and fun rhyme, right?)


yay!