Reflections on the Then and Now

I have just returned from a rather short trip home, and like many of my travel excursions, either back to the US or elsewhere, it made me think.

I must admit that I am surprised to no end that this year, my year as an MA student at the University of York, is nearly over.

So, what was going on in my life one year ago now?

I was working at Plimoth Plantation, as I had been for two and a half years. It was hot, like all summers in New England are, with the added bonus of humidity to make the air all the more close and uncomfortable. I would drive into work every morning from my apartment in Bridgewater, Massachusetts in costume--to save myself to the trouble of dressing when I arrived--and I would pull into the closest free space available to begin my walk to the Mayflower II, sitting in its usual place at the Plymouth waterfront. I would literally work from break to break, deal with the little problems between staff and staff or staff and visitors. I would have one or two great conversations with informed visitors and three dozen slow-moving, elementary ones. By this point, I would usually be suffering health problems from the heat, regardless of how much water I managed to consume.

I lived in a two floor duplex with my landlord occupying the other half. It was rather bare by this time because I had originally moved into it with my boyfriend, Matt, with whom, our relationship did not work out. He had been living on the Cape in his parents' house for about two to three months by this point. I was fully stocked with bedroom and study furniture, but the dining room was left completely unused, save my own bookcase, and the living room had only the couch he left behind at my behest and the television unit. I was never lonely because I had the company of my four cats, and I was always excited to come home to them. I opened the side door to find all four of them waiting on the other side of it in the kitchen. Even though Matt was no longer a part of my life as he had been, his lack of participation when it came to housecleaning had fully prepared me to take on the responsibilities in his absence. I used to spend my evenings after work cleaning up any mess immediately visible, talking to good friends online, and then I would end the night before going to bed with either a cool beer or a chilled glass of wine, cat company also included.

Earlier in the month a year ago, I had lost an old friendship through imprudence and the desire to find something I wanted in a place that I shouldn't have been looking. To this day, it is lost, and to me, fully so. I do not mourn for it, regardless of how hurt I was, as much as I am disappointed in my own actions. I think that if it were me today, I would not have been foolish. I was fortunate in the end, though, to gain a very close relationship--closer than to any other person--with someone who has taught me more about myself, about the person I wish I could be, than any other in my life. I hope that in some way, I have lived up to his high opinion and expectations of and for me. I hope he knows how hard I have tried and continue to try, and if he is able to see any positive change in me if he were to look back on the person I was and the person I am now, then I am more blessed than I can imagine.

How did I see going off to England? I didn't like to think about it. It was an experience I knew I had to embark on--I knew that I would only lose certain fears and insecurities if I came here and pursued this. It's been difficult trying to balance a personal growth experience with focus on academic obligations, but I think I have balanced that out fairly well, but not without a hitch now and again. By this time, I was counting the days, hoping that a month and a half was a longer space of time than it seemed to be before I would have to leave everyone and everything I knew and enjoyed to come to a place I had never seen before with people I had never met. As much as I liked to joke at work about how much I looked forward to leaving, I was still hopelessly nervous about it and I was afraid that I wasn't up to the task at hand.

Although I have been home on and off since coming here, so far, this has been successful in a number of ways. Nothing has been perfect, but I have gained a great deal and will be happy to see the experience right to the end. What the future holds, well, that's not as much of a concern anymore. I'm sure in another year, I'll be looking back again and seeing myself as I was "then" and reflecting somewhat differently on what that means. Until then, well, at least to make sure "then" comes along, I'll take the rest of it one step at a time.

A Self-Indulgent Moment

So, what have I been doing?

I know, I should have some amazing story to tell about flying around to Spain or ending world poverty or writing the novel that will eventually win me a Pulitzer Prize and make me more wealthy than the author of Harry Potter.

Unfortunately I do not.

How's the foot? I thank you all for your kind inquiries. It is getting better. I am no longer in pain, which is very convenient for walking around but it is still rather swollen. I can feel it sometimes, especially when it gets damp--which is always here in England. However, the good news is that I am not hobbling around like Tiny Tim without the added bonus of infantile cuteness and a page-boy cap.

Essentially, I have been working on my dissertation--God help me. My supervisor requested a "chapter" to be completed by this week, which it was. I passed it in and am now awaiting commentary. I have been putting my efforts into creating "mobile research", which, for those of us who were taught how to record quotes from books by notecard as opposed to database, means a lot of peeling through books page by page, picking out a good quote that illustrates a point I think I will try and make, writing that quote down and then giving it a bibliographic reference. Yes, very dull. That is why I am very proud of myself--I have gone through all of my old research--42 separate sources--in two days creating a huge catalogue of cards for the next chapter, and am only in need of a few more sources to finish the whole thing off.

Why create the mobile research lab? Well, for travelling purposes of course. Given my very dull life of late, I am pleased to announce that will soon change. I am going on a rather ambitious trip to Bath and Cardiff starting on Monday that will take me to a lot of the neighboring sites within the vicitinities of those cities. I am very excited. It will certainly break the monotony of being here, in my room, surrounded by papers, photocopies, index cards, pens that leak all over my desk chair (thankfully, I have another chair I can use....). After that, I will travel back the US for a week or two.

I'll have a whole new lot of travel experiences to share soon, which will far outdo this next-to-pointless and self-indulgent blog post.

And I get to see my KITTIES!!! I miss their company---including Miss Harriet, who has fully recovered without a trace of the illness we thought was going to end her life only months ago, and Phoebe, who apparently, with no training at all and no encouragement (and no belief, on our part, that she could accomplish this), can now use the toilet.

Well, back to the boredom, with promises of something more interesting soon.

And now for something....

...completely different.



I would like to dedicate this to my friend, Lindsay, who is the only other person I know with the capacity to understand the hilarity behind the lines:

"BURMA!"
"What did you just say Burma for?"
"I panicked."

Early work by both John Cleese and Grahmn Chapman of Monty Python's Flying Circus. The "chartered accountant" figure would make countless appearances in the Flying Circus, if only to highlight the extraordinary caliber of his extremely dull job. This is from 1967's At Last the 1948 Show.

"So, Where's Summer?" and other questions relating to England

It's June, finally. Starting in May, I stopped having to expect at least one low-lying cloud-originating rain storm to sneak up on me every day. My umbrellas (and yes, that word is pluralized) have been hung on my coat rack, but certainly not retired. Why, well, this picture tells the whole story. No, that's not a swamp, that is outside my second-story window. This problem was so widespread that first, I had to break out the ENTIRE rain gear collection my father, ever weather ready as he is, sent to me, which includes a pair of boots and a matching water resistent overpants and jacket. After this monsoon finally resided, I made my way to the nearest bus stop, and this walk involves a trip down a dirt path covered in packed wood chips. I took one step "onto" this path, and my boot (thankfully my boot, that is) sunk into what I can only term a "river" where the path once had been.

One thing that never goes away is wind. It is always windy, or at least breezy, out here. That tends to bring the temperature down a bit, and we aren't even close to the water--well, not by English standards anyway.

So, we have a succession of nice days, sun, warm, people in shorts lying on lawns, and then, the cloud cover, never to be thwarted and rarely abated, creeps over the delightful cheeriness that is clear blue sky and now, we're back to the usual "Englishness" that is overcast, just not threatening to dump two inches of water on you at any minute.

Right now, I am sorry to report that I am suffering from THE WORST possible ailment one could be stricken with here in York.

And that is....a foot injury, complete with swelling.

Ok, so that's no big deal. I'm sure you were all thinking cancer or a heart attack. Why is THAT so bad?

York is what I would call your walking city in England. The entire city center has been designated a pedestrian zone for most of the hours of the day. If I want to get anywhere for anything useful, I have to walk about half a mile for a bus, take the bus to the city, get off OUTSIDE of the city center (no matter what the FTR calls their Clifford Street stop), walk into the pedestrian zone, then walk back to the bus, and walk from the stop I get off back to my room. All in all, this has got to come close to nearly two miles of walking, and just for necessities. My other options are to pay Tesco or Sainsbury's to deliver food to me, for example, but I have to order about two days in advance, or to hobble over to the CostCutter here at Halifax College, which usually stocks milk, Asian delicacies, and the occasional bag of prawn-flavored crisps.

There have been many times when I have felt like I was in a live Monty Python sketch here in the UK. It goes back to my father's now-famous quote within days of my arrival here. I was waking up in my hotel room, next to that of my parents, and I heard between blow-dryer motors and shower uses, "I don't want to leave my oldest daughter in the middle of Monty Pythonland. That wasn't a comedy show; it was reality TV."

My most recent experience along these lines occurred when I called the Health Center on campus for an appointment when my foot injury really started to become bothersome. I knew that I needed to stay off of it, but that is next to impossible here in York and vicinity. After explaining my reason for needing the appointment, I asked about the acquisition of crutches.

Me: Well, there probably isn't much you can do about it. I really need to stay off of it, so I could really use some crutches to borrow in the meantime.

Health Center Secretary: Oh, we don't have crutches down here.

Me: So, you can take a look at it, and if I say, needed crutches, you couldn't give them to me.

Health Center Secretary: Yes, we can look at it for you, but we do not have any crutches.

Me: So, where can I get crutches if the nurse I see there tells me I need them?

Health Center Secretary: At the hospital in town you should be able to get them.

Me: How do I get there?

Health Center Secretary: You'll have to walk.

Yet another example of the brilliant British service you can expect here in England. Who says Monty Python isn't a reality TV show? Perhaps this is why I cannot get the series on DVD for Region 2 unless I buy an Asian knock-off on Ebay.

Oh, and another burning question. Why is Richard still with Judy (ref: Richard and Judy)? She has transformed into a bleached-blond hobbit, officially. Watch for press releases on this one when they restart at 5 pm on Channel 4. Maybe I'm just bitter about losing The Paul O'Grady Show.

Canterbury

Canterbury Cathedral was one of those "must visit" places for me when I knew I was coming to the UK study. When I was in college at Holy Cross, I had the good fortune to take a number of excellent Medieval History classes with two professors in particular who had seen literally everything Medieval in western Europe and beyond (or at least it seemed they had). They both used a whole host of slides to show the places they were describing, and both of them covered Canterbury Cathedral at different times in different courses. It was hard for me to get a picture in my head of how it was placed or what it really looked like inside, but all of that was easily straightened out by my own visit there.


All Cathedrals have their assortment of famous dead people in them. You never quite know who you are going to find until you get there, and then when you see the tombs, your first thought is always "oh, yeah, I remember that guy...". The most impressive collection of dead folks must be in Westminster Cathedral, where, of course, you can't take any pictures. In Canterbury, I came across the tomb of Edward III's son, the Black Prince. Apparently, he was either a rather humble guy or he just didn't want hundreds of people to gawk at him after he died, so he requested to be buried in the crypt underneath the cathedral building. The monks thought this was improper for a man of his status and reputation, so they put him here, on the north side towards the back, and next to the shrine of Thomas Becket. His colored shirt of armor, his gloves, and his sword were never stolen (unlike other grave goods, especially in the Reformation), and they are on display on the wall nearby while reproductions of the originals are hanging above the tomb. Even Oliver Cromwell, Puritan extraordinaire, respected the Black Prince enough to carry his sword in battle against the Royalists.

The inside of the cathedral is rather impressive, as are all of them. Lots of arches, columns, and windows. This Cathedral can get a little dark inside, especially behind the altar here where the choir stalls are. A lot of the columns here, instead of the huge Norman versions in Durham and Norwich, are lighter, sometimes trefoiled, and in many cases, made of smooth marble. This interior space is behind a very large, carved stone screen, which served to separate the laity from the activities of the monks and priests.

The outside of the cathedral was a little difficult to get a full look at because it was obscured by a set of buildings right in front of it (unlike York, whick exists almost on its own in the middle of a square, and the front is viewable for several blocks). Like Norwich, the cathedral is behind a set of gates and is very much like part of a complex. The towers are very ornately done and unlike York, the statues by the doors at the front and sides under the towers are still there today (in York, they have been removed and some are in the museum) but they have certainly been repaired or replaced in one form or another. However, it is pretty impressive to walk around. Like Norwich, there is a cloister attached to it, but there is additional evidence of different monastic buildings that have been left to ruin. The limits of the complex were bordered by walls, which may have also been the case at one time in Norwich, too, but they no longer exist there.

The biggest point of interest at Canterbury is, of course, the shrine of Thomas Becket. Becket had apparently been rather close to Henry II before being appointed, through this friendship, Archbishop of Canterbury. The biggest point of disagreement between them had to do with the prosecution of churchmen. Prior to this time (the mid 12th century), there was a separate law for offending churchmen that was notoriously lax in punishing offenders. Becket sought to preserve this right and tradition while Henry wanted members of the clergy to be prosecuted according to secular law. Henry presented his demands in the Constitutions of Clarendon, which Becket refused to sign. Becket, regardless of his friendship with the king, did not back down on the issue, which led to all sorts of complications for Henry. At one point, Becket was exiled (or willingly exiled himself), and he had a host of well known and well schooled supporters amongst the English and others, such as John of Salisbury, his student and aid.

Unfortunately for Becket, regardless of his return to England, his vigilance to his cause was the author of his end. Famously, Henry was said to have exclaimed in frustration "Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?!" which prompted four of his knights to launch an assasination attempt on Becket. They killed him in the entrance to the quire in the Cathedral at the celebration of vespers on December 29, 1170, apparently giving him a blow to the head to finish the act (this is the best source for the description of his murder). He was cannonized quickly, in 1173.

There isn't anything left of his shrine or relics today. Henry VIII took everything, along with the treasures associated with them, during the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century. Today, as you can see, there is a single lit candle where the shrine once stood on the marble floor panels at the back of the cathedral. The simplicity is actually surprisingly impressive--maybe even more so than the ornate elements that no longer exist. It's quiet and completely blocked off from immediate access. Even the floor is amazing--the smooth marble tiles are all colored and inlaid. The light from the windows also adds to the effect. The back of the cathedral arches around in a semi-circle, with more accessible windows--meaning windows at the level of the viewers--than anywhere else in the cathedral.

The stained glass windows themselves are also a very unique element in Canterbury Cathedral. My own photograph does not do it justice, but the picture you see here of the window is what is called the "Donor's Window" or the window illustrating those guilds that donated either labor or money to the creation of different parts of the Cathedral. Each circle shows a different trade-in-motion. In fact, in the picture of the Becket shrine above, you can see the "Donor's Window" straight ahead, immediately behind the candle at the back. To see a layout of some of the cathedral windows and what they depict, this is a good resource, but unfortunately pictureless. For some other details, but without an in depth description, try this, these pilgrims, and this miracle.

Unlike in other Cathedrals, or churches for that matter, there is a lot of original stained glass at Canterbury. It's one of the few places that retains it after the zealous English turnover to Protestantism. It isn't all in tact, however. There are a few places here and there where the panes are all clear or partially clear--notably parts of some of the larger windows in the trancepts, for example--in fact one of the trancepts has mostly new windows with the other has bands of 14th and 15th century windows with clear panes between them. Again, it is at the back where Becket's shrine is where you can really get up close to the original stained glass. Most of the windows have themes. There are two that tell the story of Becket's life and martyrdom and another window dedicated to the miracles associated with his influence after his death. As I mentioned above, the donors are also featured in their own window. Some of it has been restored, naturally, but without adulterating the original form or figures. In some of the other pictures above, you can see peeks of the other stained glass windows, and it really gives you a feel for what the other cathedrals in England would have looked like in their hayday. Today, most of them are clear, which makes the cathedrals brighter, but it is deceiving to the historical eye.

I wasn't in Canterbury for long--it was a stop on the train on the way to Dover where I was staying overnight. However, when I did see it, I was very disappointed that I hadn't planned to stay there. It is very much like York in how it is mainly a walking city dominated by a large Cathedral, but smaller than Norwich. I did also get to see the city walls, many of which are still in tact on the south side of the city, and St. Augustine's which is outside of the city, and apparently, the first church in England. St. Augustine's, which is a ruin today, would have been a smaller version of Canterbury Cathedral, but it has a history that goes back much farther, which makes it disappointing to see the state it is in. St. Augustine himself was buried there at one time, but his, like Becket's, relics were removed by Henry VIII. However, other figures mentioned in Bede, notably the bishops that followed Augustine, are all buried there in a section that has maintained it's Anglo-Saxon feel. There are also four of the kings of Kent also buried there, and many other figures that were significant to the history of the abbey. The audio tour there is absolutely fantastic and very informative.

I would certainly like to return to Canterbury for a longer stay. It is hard for me to rate it first, because my stay was so short, and second, because it was your typical cloudy, rainy (maybe the adjective "English" is best here....) day there. I will give it a 7 and 1/2 with the potential for an upgrade if I make it back there and if the weather is cooperating.

My second destination on my little travel excursion was the city of Norwich. I always wanted to see it, and I was not disappointed in my stay there. I got to see the coastline, which was a good thing, but I was rather tired of Great Yarmouth quickly, and I made my way to the train station (on a really bad side of town--worse than the rest of it) to try and catch an earlier train. Fortunately, there is consistant service from Norwich to Great Yarmouth and back all day long.

At first, I thought I was going to be disappointed by Norwich, too. The train station is outside of the city (in fact, it wasn't even on my town plan, which freaked me out at the beginning), and subsequently, not in the best of areas. When I arrived, it was just after school had ended and apparently a lot of students come from neighboring towns on the same line I was riding, which meant quite a hastle and the need to pull out my 'footballer'-like skills just to exit the train.

The hotel wasn't too far away, thankfully, and in a 'central' location--it isn't in the center of town, per say, but it is right by the Cathedral. The gateway with the tower behind it was right outside my hotel. Of course, those people had to park illegally in their Fawlty-Towers-style car before I took the picture, but so be it. The Cathedral was more of a complex--parts of the area within the gates had been updated, but you could distinguish between the buildings that were contemporary to it and those that had been added later or rebuilt. The area is called Tombland, apparently, and is one of the nicer, more historical, sides of town.


In addition to the Cathedral, there are 32 existing "parish" churches in Norwich. In their hayday, there used to be 61. Most of them are built in the usual "gravel" method, using smaller stones framed in something more substancial. All of them have some kind of bell tower on them. The tower you see here belongs to St. Andrew's which was nearby where I was staying in town. The reason I sought out this one in particular actually had to do with my previous job. The "congregation" of "pilgrims"--or the more religious sorts among them--were all minstered by one John Robinson. Robinson, before being ousted due to his "reformist" beliefs in the early 17th century, was a minister of the Church of England in Norwich, and this was his parish. The whole time I stayed in Norwich, this church was closed (hence the bright yellow sign on the doors). I returned several times there to no avail. However, I did explore the interiors of a number of other, similar parish churches nearby to get an idea of what it may look like inside. Behind it is the Bridewell museum, which is a smaller establishment that focuses on the manufacturing history of Norwich. It is very much like looking at the Lowell mills in Massachusetts, but with several types of exployments rather than just one. Regardless of some failed manufacturing trades, the city, unlike American cities on the east coast, is not dotted with large, hollow, empty brick mill buildings (New England could certainly take a hint).


One of the first things I did when I got to Norwich, regardless of my being exhausted having treked all around Great Yarmouth with my luggage before arriving, was take a walk around the city. There is a huge, mostly outdoor, shopping center there that is in the same place the markets were hundreds of years previously. In the middle of the market, going up a hill, is St. Peter Mancroft church--the outdoor archway is photographed here. According to information in the Bridewell Museum, the cattle market existed just outside of here at one point. In front of it is one of the BBC buildings and off to the right is the main courthouse. It really borders on the upper end of the center of town. Again, I was unable to go inside and take a look--this time due to a late afternoon arrival and the Sunday service on the following day. The original building was Norman, but it was rebuilt and reconsecrated in the 15th century, so that is the style you see here. It really is the largest of the "parish" churches in Norwich--built in the same syle, but approaching more "cathedral-like" architecture.

I saved my trip inside the Cathedral until last given it was on the way to the train station (at that point, I was hoping it was, and I turned out to be right--no thanks to the stupid map I was carrying. It is another Norman foundation--very Romanesque in style but moving in the Gothic direction.


You can see the inside of it here. I got there right when they were about to begin Evensong services, so I didn't get to go around as much as I would have liked. It certainly looks Norman--round, decorated arches and heavy pillars, but you can see the more complicated ribbing on the ceiling, which is more Gothic in style. It is also much lighter--unlike Durham, which is Romanesque through and through, Norwich, with its incorporation of Gothic techniques, takes on a slightly lighter feel. At the back is the organ, which obscures the view all the way down the nave. There is a cloister attached, too, and a few ruins of other parts of the monastery as well as a hospital. The tower is rather distinctive at Norwich, which is probably an identification point for more experienced cathedral-goers than myself.

One thing that I was impressed by was how the Castle dominated the landscape. It is on top of a hill across from the market, so would have been right in the center of town. The Castle was my first stop when I did tour the museums, and I wasn't disappointed. It is an art/archaeologial museum as well as a historical building in its own right. The Castle on the hill gave a great view of the city. I was fortunate enough to choose to take a tour of the prison vaults, which are inside the hill more or less, and had a fabulous tour guide who knew a lot about the city as well as the Castle. She showed me the vaults, explained their use over time, she knew the practices and what the Castle represented in the city itself over time. I was

more than impressed, and was fortunate enough to be the only person on the tour with her. The inside of the building you see pictured was used to house the "common criminal"--debtors, thieves, and the like--and they had a sort of "community" inside the walls there. Before that, it had been a Norman palace, but over time, the Castle was turned over to the city and upon that change of hands, it became a prison. This view is from the bridge crossing over to the Castle, and apparently in the Early Modern period, on Saturdays at noon, there would be an execution--or more than one execution--there. Those that were executed didn't stay in the prison "community," but were instead relegated to the vaults underneath the Castle. Later on, the Castle's prisoners became the subjects of phrenologers who made their death masks and explored the bumps on their head to try and determine if any signalled they would become criminals. In the nineteenth century, it became a museum, as it is today.

Accomodations here very much outclassed those in Great Yarmouth. I stayed in the Maids Head Hotel, which is a 13th century establishment added to and built upon over time. It was a great place--very clean, very nice rooms, and fairly affordable. It was right by the gateway to the Cathedral and the market wasn't a long walk away. I greatly enjoyed my stay there.

So, Norwich earns itself an 8 and 1/2, putting it in the lead over Durham, York, and Great Yarmouth at present. Let's see if it maintains that lead...

I'm home again after a trip across southeast England. I started in Great Yarmouth.

Great Yarmouth certainly defies its adjective--lacking in "Greatness" in any capacity. It's not much of a place for history-oriented people, but even though the history isn't readily apparent, that doesn't mean that there isn't any at all.

The shore itself is nice. Once you get past the tacky fun-parks and gambling establishments, you can walk for miles down the beach. I found that in comparison to New England beaches, the sand was far more glassy and there were an abundance of rocks smoothed over by the tide. It surprised me just how quiet the walk was--only a few other people, residents I suspect, were taking advantage of the nice weather and the beautiful scenery. Something I didn't know before arriving was the existence of a wind farm on the water. There is a controversy on Cape Cod over the installation of a similar wind farm off the coast in the Nantucket direction--apparently this will "wreck the view out there." Frankly, the wind farm was quiet and graceful--certainly the only power-generating system I have ever seen that is easy on the eyes.
On my second day, I took a walk around the town to get a look around. I came across the local parish church, St. Nicholas. It's kind of a Victorian "re-do" of the Norman Church. When you go inside, the arches are original, but the walls have clearly been rebuilt around them. It also "said something" that the nicest place in the whole town was the cemetery that spread out from the "nucleus" that is the churchyard. It was very quiet and well kept given that a huge town effort is focused on the maintenance of it. At least if you keel over while playing at a slot machine, you first, won't have far to go, and second, you'll be on a quality piece of real estate.

I was walking around on the "Quay"--and I have no idea what that means even though I am from a coastal area originally myself. I actually had stayed on the Quay, which is by the River Yare (on the other side of the town from the coast), but I didn't actually stroll down the street until after I made my seaside stop.
When I did, I came across a ruin of a Greyfriar's Abbey. It wasn't visible from the road at all. I turned down a side alley and literally walked into it while I was inevitably getting myself lost. Anyway, it would have been outside of the city proper in its time--about fourteenth century or so. The picture of the brick structure with what looks like a chimney protruding out of it is the ruin. On the other side you can see the arches a little better. It isn't very big, but you can still get a sense of the turns and almost tunnel-like network of rooms that would have existed there when it was a whole building.

It may sound odd, but one of the most interesting features of the town was the remains of the town wall. There isn't much of it around, but every now and then, you'll look at a row of houses and spot the tell-tale arches or tower remains. Apparently most of it came down in the 1840s, but there are still sections around. There is a whole section still existing in the graveyard with a very cool tower at the end of it. I was walking down a street, desperate for the Sainsbury's nearby, when I turned and saw the tower you see in the picture sticking out from a bunch of commercial buildings across the street. The curious thing about it was the direction it faced in--it was facing to the water. Today, the majority of the town is apparently outside of where the original town would have been encompassed by the old wall.


Well, the trip was worth stopping there for a day, but I certainly wouldn't recommend actually travelling there for a prolonged period of time. The few things I managed to capture is the city's history--and that's all there is. The rest of the waterfront looks like a British version of Atlantic City that is even more tacky. I visited in the "off-season" so I can only imagine what it is like down there during the summer. It is windy down there--putting the wind farm to good use, of course, but that makes it hard to sit for a long time by the water. I noticed a lot of the "in the know" folks had these odd reems of tarp that they posted in the ground around where they intended to sit in the direction of the wind to block it.

One final note--I stayed in a place called the Star Hotel. It wasn't that far from the train station, which was an advantage for me. However, I was reminded of the "Royal Imperial Windsor Arms" from the movie "National Lampoon's European Vacation." If you don't know what I am talking about, the movie is well worth watching. At any rate, for those of you who do, I got two TV channels, one of which was a 24 hour run of news (the "Cheese Show"), I got no hot water from the shower head, but I got as much of it as I wanted to take a bath (sans whistling robed stranger), to make the toilet flush, I had to hold down the weight inside of the back of the bowl (that has no specific equivalent, but is just typical), and the bed, a "double" was actually two single beds put together.
Thus far, Durham will get 7 points out of ten, York gets 5, and Great Yarmouth will get 3 and a half.

On to the next location...

Letter to my Former Self

Dear "Former" Self:

The unfortunate thing about this letter is that you won't get a chance to read it. However, that does not defeat the purpose of this, my "Present" Self, composing it.

I know school is a pain in the ass. All subjects like Math and math-related Sciences seem to do is bring your overall grade down. And I know you look at your friends who can perform just as well in those subjects as the liberal arts and ask why you can't do that, too. Well, I don't have an answer to that question, but I can tell you that your seeming "deficiency" in those subjects didn't hold you back in the long run. Even when you got older, you still wished you could work out an equation with some reasonable assurance that it was somewhat right, but other than the GRE exam, you won't need to see those odd symbols, parabolas, sines and cosines again. Your staying up late nights doing all of your homework, reading and studying for those AP exams will pay off--in the long run you will be able to do what you can only imagine "in theory" right now: you will be able to go to the school that you choose as the best option for you, if not quite for what you expect at first.

There will never be a time when your parents aren't looking over your shoulder. What you will learn is that it is better to make it easier for them to do that. They'll never admit to you that they were more strict with you than with your siblings, no matter what you do, so just keep that knowledge to yourself. It won't get better, either--you'll see what your siblings will be able to get away with, things you would have been grounded for ages for, and you'll immediately feel the injustice of that. You'll hide that well, though. The only thing I can say is that as you get older, you realize that your parents are human, too. They made mistakes and they had to learn how to be "parents" just like you learn how to do anything else in this life. You will have to admit, though, that their strict upbringing impressed upon you the ability to choose well between right and wrong. Had they been more lax, well, you probably wouldn't have turned out as well.

Your parents will never like any of the guys you bring home--you may as well know that right now. It's true, some of your choices won't be very good, but it is impossible not to throw into the mix the fact that you are the oldest and that it is harder for them to part with you in some ways, especially your father. However, on the other hand, they will always be accepting of your friends, no matter who they are. You are going to realize that you tend to stay in relationships too long, especially when you feel like you don't have any other dating options waiting for you if you were to end what you are a part of. As you move from place to place, school to school, and job to job, your experiences will impress upon you that there are two classifications of things in life: things that are meant to stay with you and things that aren't meant to last. Once you learn this, you will be more and more able to distinguish between them. You will go through a process where you will have to do what you know inside of you that you need to do--you need to go it alone to be able to learn what "you" is. When that happens, it won't matter if you're on your own or not anymore. And, it won't be as scarey as you think. In the end, you will be content with your own company and more comfortable with yourself. Both of these results will help you build better, longer-standing and more stable relationships of all kinds in the future.

Secrets you'll have to admit to yourself:

You're a romantic. Just live with it.

You can throw a ball as well as any guy--don't let them tell you otherwise.

You'll always be a "big sister" no matter where you are or how old your siblings get.

The Indigo Girls will save your life more than once.

Relationships aren't always what you think they are, and love is going to defy conventions for you.

You'll always want to do dozens of things with your life. Narrowing that down is not necessarily a good thing.

Above all, relax. When you do that, you will invite more people to you. You're going to have to learn openness, and thankfully you will, but not without a lot of help. That means not shutting anyone out who has something to offer--and that means everyone.

Until your "Future" self comes along,
Your "Present" Self

Visit to Durham

At the beginning of this week, I went to Durham. This is the first time I have ever been out there, regardless of having been accepted to the University there. I considered that offer first, actually, before I ended up at York. Therefore, I was all the more curious to see the place.

The "city" is built on a hill overlooking the River Wear, but unlike York and the Ouse, the surroundings have maintained a certain natural beauty, probably because of the high embankments as opposed to the low, flat lands that surround the river in York.

The first picture here is a view of the countryside from the top of Durham Cathedral. Lots and lots of narrow steps, twisting around in a circle, but once you get up there, as you can see for yourself it is certainly worth it. I liked this side because of the green fields you can see on the hill.

Here is the Castle, which is right next to the Cathedral on the top of the hill. Today, it is actually a part of the University, and there are students who get to live in the keep here. I went on a tour guided by a history student, and the University seems to be a lot more formal than the University of York--it's been around longer, so kind of maintains some old traditions, like formal meals and surprisingly to me, a lot of student religious services. The best part, which you can't see here, was this incredible old Normal Chapel that was walled up about fifty years into the life of the first castle, and then rediscovered in the 19th century as completely in tact as time would allow. It was made of sandstone, so the interor was brownish in color, almost marble-like. It was also very dark, and you could see just how thick the walls really were--about six feet. We didn't get to see the inside of the keep here because of the student accomodations, unfortunately. The main buildings of the castles are actually off to the left beyond a Victorian reconstruction of a medieval gate system.


This is a view of the Cathedral, but you can only see this side if you stand on the other side of the river, which puts you at a rather low angle. It is Romanesque, which makes its architecture rather large and clunky, but certainly Norman in style. The columns on the inside are huge and the archways are rounded. There are a lot of windows in the towers that you can see here, but not so many along the sides of the building--not like the large, spacious Gothic style windows that make Gothic cathedrals feel so much lighter. The key features of the Cathedral, however, are the tombs of St. Cuthbert and Bede. Bede gets a box to himself on this side of the building inside a chapel. Apparently, his bones were stolen from Jarrow by the monks at Durham in the 11th century. Go figure. Anyway, St. Cuthbert was also "moved" here, but his tomb is more like a shrine on the other side of the cathedral. He is buried on an upper "level" beneath the floor there. There is also an exhibit that they called "The Treasures of St. Cuthbert," which was rather misleading because I thought it meant that there was more from his burial that was going to be on display. Instead, most of it, although impressive, was just comprised of some of the Cathedral's artifacts, like seals, manuscripts, and vestments. However, there were a few things that were specifically Cuthbert-oriented, such as a cross with a garnet inlaid in the middle--found on his body even though the majority of his treasures had been pillaged years before. There were also fragments of some kind of Byzantine cloth that covered his remains and a once silver covered portable altar. Most impressive was his coffin, wooden, original, and carved by the Anglo-Saxons with pictures of the apostles. It was in fragments, but the museum had put it back together so you could see it as it would have looked in box-form. It was a great visit, and a very impressive place (and very tiring given the 250 stairs to the tower).

This is a view from one of the bridges over the River Wear. In the distance is another bridge--a footbridge--that allows you access to the level the Cathedral and Castle are on. It was the usual cloudy British day, but regardless, you really can see how beautiful it is there with all the trees--in fact, I think this is the largest concentration of trees I had seen to date in England. I took a walk on the right side of the river along a footpath there, and it was fantastic. I followed it past that bridge to another one around that corner of trees you see back there.

Although Durham is small--smaller than York, I really liked the city. If I had been a more efficient planner, I would have stopped in Newcastle first--only another 25 minutes up the road by train, and then stopped by Durham on the way home to York so I could have seen both places, but it gives me an excuse to hop off the train again and see this place under perhaps some more sunny skies. It was definitely worth seeing.

Well, thank you, Cuthbert and Bede, for showing me your final resting place. It may not have been your first, but hey, you could definitely find a worse one for your last.

Number Two: Emily

This is Emily.



Emily is Anne's sister, and my sweetest baby. She is smaller than her sisters--they are both longer, especially their necks, while Emily is a rather compact little thing. She is also oddly colored, as you can see. My father refers to her as having "calico ends" in the fur on her head, tail and paws, but nowhere else.

At first, she got into everything. I think she believed her name was "No!" when she was little. However, she had such a way about her that under almost any circumstances, she was able to "make friends" (this discounts Phoebe). She did this first with my roommate's cat--a huge Maine Coon named Geronimo who had the brain of a rugby player. As soon as she saw him, she nuzzled right into the bib of long fur under his chin, and he was hooked.

Her favorite friend, however, is Harriet. Harriet, who is notoriously difficult to get along with, has taken to Emily, and tolerates her company in ways she does with no one else, feline or otherwise. Harriet suffered from a glucose crash a few years ago, and she couldn't see or move for about a week while she recovered. We kept her in a laundry basket, lying on a blanket, and always put that basket where there was plenty of human and cat company. One night, Harriet was sitting there, sprawled out, at least partially blind, and Emily, perked up with a tiny mew, jumped right into the basket and sat with her. This action met with mutual purrs from both of them.

Emily expresses joy by rolling all over the floor when you pass by her. She'll purr whenever she meets up with anyone who may offer her some attention, and she was the only of my cats to like my last boyfriend, Matt.

Perhaps her sisters could take a lesson from her kindness....

Perhaps we all could. 

"My Kitties" Number One: Anne

I was cleaning up my room, and I realized how much I missed my kitties.
I thought I might introduce them to you.

This is Anne

Anne is one of three kittens I picked up in October 2003. Anne apparently looks the most like "mom" who was ferrul and living in Little Compton, RI. A curator at a historic home in that rather deserted part of the state found three of the four in the litter and took them into her own apartment, already inhabited by two older cats, one of which developed a "stress disorder" having to deal with the new "children."

Anne has two sisters, Charlotte and Emily. She tends to communicate her desires vocally, and she has a different tone for "I want this" and "No, mom, I didn't do anything wrong, really..." She frequently teases Phoebe, my mother's cat; however this recently resulted in several cuts on her nose and the subsequent decision to cool it for a little while or enlist her sisters as reinforcements. She usually figures out when I am about to go to bed and stakes her claim on the foot of it before anyone else can.

Here, she is in one of her more well-behaved states. I would like to mention that after she woke up from this particular nap, she cornered Phoebe under a wheeled footrest with Charlotte and then went outside and refused to come in until about 2 am. Lesson: Don't be fooled by the innocent "nap state." 

My Love/Hate Relationship With England

Now that I am fresh--well, maybe not fresh given the time span between my last shower and the present time--off of the plane from Manchester, I was thinking about the good and the bad in England. It's funny how perspectives differ. I was sitting in an aisle seat (thank you, Dad) on one of those airbuses. Across the asile from me was this girl, probably about eighteen or so. Once we landed in Manchester, I am thinking "here we go again," and she says, "I am soooo glad to be back in England." Go figure.

So as to get the insulting part of this out of the way first, I present:

The Bad

Hot and Cold Taps: Why these can't be combined into one tap whereupon you can regulate the amalgamation of the hot and the cold water before it hits the sink basin, I will never know.

Weather: Now, New England is world renouned for being unpredictable. It could be seventy degrees in January and then you get a blizzard in April. But, here, albeit consistent, the weather is usually "rain expectant" no matter how nice it may be when you wake up in the morning. The dampness stays everywhere here. I remember mentioning the state of the ground--the wet, muddy mess that is anything with grass growing on it--to an English student, who said, "I didn't know the ground was suppposed to be dry in winter."

Vegetables: Sometimes, you just don't want tubors as a side dish to, say, everything.

Breakfast Food: To continue the food trend, I was recently reminded of British morning food options, including "pancakes," which are really crepes (but the British don't want us to think they have anything in common with the French), "golden syrup," which is essentially butter and sugar melted together (where is the maple, my friend?), and "bacon"--thankfully, my previous pilgrim practice of soaking bacon that has been salted has come in handy. Also, there is what they refer to here as a "full breakfast," which includes tomatos, mushrooms, and the ridiculous British version of baked beans.

Coffee: Alas, I must bid a temporary fare-well to my beloved iced coffees, given even the folks at Starbucks don't know what I am talking about when I order one here.

No Driving: Not to say that I would ever attempt to drive here, given I would probably turn out looking like Clark Griswold in his European Vacation movie (sans Eric Idle), but there is something to be said for being your own means of transportation. You can get where you want when you want to taking your own personal routes, etc. If I want to be my own means of transportation here, I have to don the comfy shoes and start walking--never forgetting an umbrella.

Money: Congrats, my English friends, your money is worth far more than my own. I put an exchange in and then, whoa, I have half as much. I also noticed that in the US, products I can get both here and there are priced the same given the scaling. For example, I can get an item for 200 dollars in the US, and here because people make more money, it costs 200 pounds, which is about 350-375 dollars.

The Internet: This only really applies to my living in campus housing, but the internet here is crap. I can't get on and depend upon it, and the proxies I have for features like AOL never seem to work for long. I also can't upload anything from here. I'm sure this is true of most Universities, but still, it is a pain in my ass.

Pharmacy System: In the US, if I need something, I can generally get it. However, if I want anything on the "adult" level of strength here, I have to have a discussion with a pharmacist. Let's just say I would prefer not to talk about menstrual problems with a complete stranger, albeit professional, in front of about seven other customers in line in the only Boots in the whole city.

My Hair: In the US, I have ever so many more options. Here, I couldn't figure out why so many people sport multi-colored dye jobs that were cut perfectly straight. The problem here goes back to the weather, I think. No matter what you do, no amount of ultra hold gel will keep curl in your hair. You hit the air outside and it is gone in thirty minutes, rain shower or perfectly clear day. At home, I can curl it once and it lasts until I wash it, giving me so many more stylining options--which is essential.

Job: Because I do not have a working Visa, I cannot work in the UK. I was thinking of doing some volunteering around since classes are over, but I really can't pick up any cash. I would like to do something other than sit and read in solitary confinement, but I can certainly rule out making some money on that deal.

The Good

Now that all of the British folks are groaning, growling, and scrolling down angrily to the "comments" section, I will present the other side of the line.

Sunlight Hours: New England was nice, and I thought it was light rather late, but when I got here I was completely surprised. The sun rises before six and sets at eight already--the longest day of the year in NE isn't even that long, and it's only April. I am really excited to see how long it stays light out when we do near June. The idea of a lot of daylight hours is very motivating to me, so, I can't wait.

Proximity to other Countries: Most people will say that the USA is like one huge country that incorporates other cultures in the same way that Europe incorporates other countries. However, everyone still speaks (some form of) English and there are a lot of cultural similaries throughout. England is really close to a lot of different places and it would cost me as much to get to them from here as it would to go from New England to Washington DC, which isn't far away. I hope to take advantage of it this time.

Bus/Train System: Although nothing beats being able to hop in your car, turn on your radio, buy a coffee, and drive yourself, the English transportation system is actually really, really good. I can get where I need to go by bus or train fairly easily as long as I plan ahead and am on time. It's much better than HAVING to drive, which is really what it is like in the US everywhere except for right in the middle of most major cities.

Hair: As much as I hate the fact that curl is a moot point, I can say that the dampness keeps my hair down when it is straight--no fly-aways, nothing.

No Snow: I may not be the biggest fan of this rainy country, but at least the concept of a Nor'easter is a foreign one.

Mail: I send away for something, and I have it within two days--a day in some cases. It pays to have a small country. In the US, I could send away and not get it for weeks. Then UPS will inevitably lose or damage it anyway.

Some Pharmacy Items: In some very rare cases, I can get things here without a prescription that I can't in the US. I remember having an infection once, and I ended up buying a pill for it that I couldn't get without a doctor's check at home. I took it and four hours later, I was fine. I would have had to wait to see the doctor, wait for the prescription, pay a ton for it, then take it and wait in the US. By then, the infection would have probably healed itself.

Bakeries: I can get quick food from someplace other than a McDonald's or a Burger King. Different may not equate to healthier, but at least it is something.

Nice People Give Directions: All bets are off in the US. You could ask an old lady for directions who will hit you with her purse or a cab driver who doesn't know the answer even if he has driven the same city for twenty years. In any case, you get an attitude. Here, they not only tell you where to go, they direct you, sometimes walk with you, and call you "luv."

Well, there you have it. I am back in the UK. At least I get a room away from cultural immersion, unless you count the Chinese students on the hallway--but that is a different culture all together. Ah, well, back to Monty-Pythonland.

My Harbor by the Hearthside

Years ago, I had a cat we called "Barney." He was another abandonment case, and he was a "one and only" in terms of the "domesticus" species in our house. Then, one December night, Dara showed up at our back door. Barney wasn't thrilled with Dara at first, but she was more than happy to allow him to have his run of the house, so he quickly realized the benefits of remaining king of his domain and having a playmate. They used to play this game we termed "chase." They would run after each other all over the house, taking terms being the chase-er and the chase-ee until one of them reached the slate platform in front of the fireplace. Then, the running stopped. The chase-ee was on "base" and could not be touched. Eventually, so the game would continue, the chase-ee would leave this safe spot and the running would continue in this cyclical form until one of them got fed up and gave the disapproving "hiss and swipe" to get the point across as clearly as possible.

Regardless of our experience in this world and how it increases over time, we never seem to expect bad things to happen to us. They happen over and over again, and yet, they remain surprises, they take us off-guard. No matter how level headed you are, I honestly don't believe anyone is so well adjusted to the mysteries of what we call life to say "I just roll with the punches," implying that those things have no negative effects. Of course they do. We shouldn't be striving for the unattainable ideal that is not allowing any of life's ridiculousness to throw us for a loop, make us upset, make us take a long, hard look at ourselves. Instead, we should be ready for those things to happen--we should expect them in the unexpected, allow them to produce their effects upon us, and let them ultimately strengthen us so we learn something from them. Ignoring them, letting them slide off of us like "water on a duck's back" cheats us of too many valuable learning experiences.

Well, we admit something bad happened and we feel bad now because of it. Now what?

One thing I have discovered over time is the concept of that "base" as being the one thing that reminds us that everything can and will be OK. There are things within ourselves--qualities, interests, dreams--that existed before that happened, and will exist long after we have forgotten why we were so upset in the first place. It is too easy to let those events and how we feel about them subsequently narrow our vision and focus. That is what makes learning how to completely ignore them so attractive. We get so caught up in how we feel, how upset we are, that it can become literally consuming. However, that "base" can be the one thing that keeps us from sinking and gives us that all-too-necessary perspective.

What's your base? Is it what you want to be, who you want to be? Is it a happy memory, a kind person, a beautiful song, a quiet place? It is your interests, your thoughts, your faith?

Mine is usually what I want to do--projects I want to accomplish. I think about my writing, listening to certain music that has stayed with me over time through many similar situations, places I saw and enjoyed before it happened. Simple, yes, but they remind me that there was something before and will be something after that is positive. It confines that moment to what it is--a moment boxed in on either side by other moments and experiences much more well worth remembering.

I'm going to sit on my slate platform in front of the fireplace for a little while, because this next game of chase, well, I don't intent to lose ;-).

Harriet Update: Although we did think that her time was up a few weeks ago, she has subsequently recovered from her illness and is doing just fine. She is treated every three days with a hefty injection of antibiotics, to which you can assume she readily objects. Luckily no one has landed in the emergency room....yet....

Ode To A Cat

I am going to tell you the story of Harriet.

Harriet is my cat. We don't know how old she is, where she comes from. I picked her up from a local animal shelter--the kind that does not euthanize their residents--in 2002.

She was older, she ended up being diabetic. She wasn't the type to cuddle up to you, she didn't want to be or look cute. She just wanted to be herself. She felt like sitting at the top of the stairs, so she did so. She wanted me to feed her, she let me know. She didn't like my boyfriend, she made that highly evident by using my living room rug as a litter box.

Although declawed and aparently sporting only one fang, she was a proficient hunter. In order to "thank" me for giving her a secure home--something I think she lacked for quite some time--she would take care of the mouse problem in my apartment. The first time I realized she had this talent, and this gratitude, was when she, while I was at work, killed an unfortunate rodent in my kitchen, cleaned it off, and spread it out nicely in presentation form at the top of the stairs leading to my apartment. When I got home, reached the end of my ascent, I look down to see this precious possession given to please me, and I completely freaked out. Harriet, on the other hand, simply looked at me in a confused fashion, and then, assuming that it wasn't in good enough condition for me, proceded to clean it off more just in case that was the clincher she was missing.

She graduated from this to actually demonstrating to me how she would catch and kill the unfortunate creatures. I awoke once in the middle of the night because I heard a wail...thinking she was ill, I turned the light on. No, she was there, sitting proudly on her haunches, with another victim dangling out of her mouth. Upon acknowledging my now awake state, she dropped it to the ground. Yes, it was still alive. It immediately started to jump about to escape, but Harriet had other plans. She, with lightning fast action that I thought was impossible for a cat her size, immediately pawed it down. Unfortunately, it buried itself in a pile of my laundry, but she insisted upon watching that hill of dirty clothing until I ended up washing it a week later, just in case it came back.

Harriet was queen. She did not like her authority being challenged. Her first test was Geronimo, my new roommate's cat. He was your typical "dumb guy" in cat form. He just wanted to play, she wanted him to get lost. I brought her back from a short sojourn home and he excitedly greeted her at the door when she came in. This good-natured welcoming patrol was met with a swipe with her unclawed paw across his face, and a resulting "what did I do?" look in cat bewilderment from him.

When I got my little ones, she tolerated them. She seemed to be happier in the company of her own kind. As one of them, Charlotte, got a bit bigger, she thought she was in a position to challenge Harriet for power. Charlotte made the mistake of hissing at Harriet once, and she received the same buffet to the face that Geronimo did in response. To make her point all the more clear, when Harriet saw Charlotte again in passing, she wacked her again...this time sending her clear across the floor.

Harriet did "crash" in the diabetic sense once. Since cats can gradually recover from diabeties, her body started to make insulin and we didn't know. Suddenly, we found her on the floor, completely collapsed. We took her to the vet and had to painstakingly look after her for a few weeks while she recovered. For a while, she couldn't walk, and my mother tried to wash her with the cat equivalent of a baby wipe. My father described the sounds she made as "nothing he had ever heard any animal make before....but they didn't sound good." After my mother finished, Harriet grabbed the discarded wipe in her mouth and shook it back and forth as if to teach it a lesson for its impudence.

During this time, Emily, another of my little ones, who loved Harriet very much, would jump into the laundry basket we kept Harriet in and sit with her. Somehow, Harriet knew she was there, even though her crash rendered her temporarily blind. Harriet purred, and so did Emily. All of the other cats were too afraid to go near her, but Emily stuck by her.

Harriet may have hated car rides, she may have been rather unfriendly at times, but she was probably the smartest cat I have ever had. She always "knew" something was going on---like she was just one step, as opposed to many, from understanding. She always tolerated other cats, save the ones that challenged her authority. The best part was that she seemed happy--she had a home, a secure home, and that was something she never had before. Someone abandoned her, and that made an imprint on her mind. When I moved out of my last apartment, she crouched in a corner, desperately worried that we were going to leave her behind. Anyone that thinks that these kinds of things do not affect animals--that animals aren't "smart enough" to remember them or for them to make a permanent imprint on their minds just like us--has never seen a look on a pet's face like Harriet's that day.

Now, she has an infection, and one of those that may indicate the presence of something much more dangerous.

For nearly four years of her being my companion and reigning queen of my house, I want to thank her for being herself. She didn't offer any apologies for being herself--for wanting things her own way. She knew that if we, or anyone else, didn't like that, she could make it on her own because she had.

If a cat could show you how to be more secure and be comfortable with who you are, she did. And if this is her time, she will be missed. But somehow, I know that she will be more tranquil, more peaceful about her own passing than I will, and she will probably be the one to comfort me in the end.

Let's Play A Game....

Ok, I was surfing around other blogs, and I saw this idea come up--then I was inspired to go visit a tarot card reading site, and I thought, let's combine the two activities into one.

How to play the game:

Put your music list on "shuffle" (no cheating, damnit).

Read each premise below and think about the song that the computer selected in relationship to it.

Now, to make this more interesting (the blogger had picked out random questions about life--the kind of stuff you ask a Ouija Board), we're going to combine this with two traditional tarot spreads.

Spread One: Celtic Cross
How to use it: Any general life situation.

Directions: Think of something going on in your life. This spread will go through the steps of analyzing it for you; however instead of cards, you get to use your own music.

Here, I'll do my own as a demonstration....

My life situation: Wouldn't you like to know.

1. What best illustrates me? (your divination card)
"What's Up" by 4 Non-Blondes (well other than the 25 years thing...)

2. What is the atmosphere surrounding this issue?
"Just Push Play" by Aerosmith (hmmm....well, if they're going to bleep it anyway)

3. What is the main obstacle in the way in this situation?
"Trouble" by the Indigo Girls (given it's an obstacle, I can't think of anything more appropriate)

4. What is the goal I can hope for without changing my priorities?
"Get Back" by the Beatles (at least I am not a man who thinks I am a woman)

5. What is the foundation of the situation?
"Follow Through" by Gavin De Graw (excellent, spot on there)

6. What is a passing influence in this situation, something to be released?
"The Best Is Yet To Come" by Frank Sinatra (so, I have to give up my plumb?!)

7. What is an approaching influence in this situation, something to be embraced?
"To Be With You" by Mr. Big (he, he, if only....)

8. What is my role or attitude in this/to this situation?
"Bad Day" by Daniel Powter (that isn't so wrong, either, come to think of it...)

9. What is your environment in this situation, including the people you are interacting with?"Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" by Billy Joel (ok, getting creepy, sort of...)

10. What are your hopes or fears, or an unexpected element that will be thrown in the mix in this situation?"Nuthin' But a G Thang" by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg (well, this just broke the trend)

11. What is the ultimate outcome of this situation?
"A Message" by Coldplay (no comment....no)


Ok, now that I am sufficiently freaked out, here is spread two for you to try.

Spread Two: Relationship Spread
How to use it: Any relationship with anyone and your interaction thereof.

For me, I'll just go with something from a long time ago and see if this interprets it right.

1. Your song (your divination card again)
"The Summer Wind" by Frank Sinatra (hmmm...Frank, where is this going?)

2. How you see yourself in this relationship?
"Tabhair dom do Lamh (trans.: Give Me Your Hand)" by the Chieftains (not bad...)

3. How you see the other person/people involved?
"Daylight" by Coldplay (Ok, that may make a little sense there)

4. How you feel about the other person/people involved?
"Love Rollercoaster" by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers (I think that classifies anything along these lines anyway)

5. What stands between you and the other person/people?
"Bigger Than My Body" by John Mayer (ambition? Hmmm...maybe in that situation)

6. How the other person/people see you?
"The Fool on the Hill" by Paul McCartney (oh, gee, thanks a lot--dumbass)

7. What the other person/people feel about you?
"Wedding Bell Blues" by the Fifth Dimension (!!!!)

8. What is the challenge of the relationship?
"Breathe (2 AM)" by Anna Nalick (perhaps not so far off...)

So, people, give it a try--let me know how it turns out...

Tribute

I was walking tonight--I just decided to walk and see where I ended up going. I didn't want to go to the library and do any work and I didn't feel like calling anyone up. I just put on a sweater, took out my music, and started walking.

I realized that I probably could tell the story of the last eight or so years of my life just through Indigo Girls songs. You know when you associate a song of some kind with a time or a place or a person--and whenever you hear it, if you're really paying attention, you can go back there in your head to a moment that would otherwise have been quickly forgotten.

I remember when I was first really introduced to them. I was a freshman in college at Holy Cross. This one guy, Brett, was a big fan, and he used to play their music on his stereo system as well as on his guitar. The first album he brought out to me was Swamp Ophelia.

The songs I liked the best on it were "Least Complicated" and "The Wood Song," but like in most other cases concerning their music, I quickly saw the CD as a whole and ended up enjoying it from beginning to end.

"Least Complicated:" On top of Mount Saint James in Worcester, MA in December--dark, cold, night out, emotionally wrecked by another one of John's mood swings and looking for freedom from that horrible feeling.

"The Wood Song:" New situations, new people, lots of adjustment and wanting things to settle down. Wanting the needless drama to end in favor of more stable relationships with people, in favor of creating a real community.

"Shame On You:" In a car, on a main road, in Connecticut. Person singing in the back seat. Then again, in another car in Boston with John telling me about all of his other relationships.

"Mystery:" Singing in front of the mirror in my bathroom. Liking the unique connection with someone else, but secretly craving that it was more grounded.

"Galileo:" Brian sitting at his computer in his room with that look of cartoonlike anticipatory delight on his face.

"River:" When John went away to Iowa--sitting in my room at home in RI writing in the summer. Wished he was there, knowing it wasn't going to last much longer--directions diverging.

Few years hiatus....

"Get Out the Map:" Any trip on the road, especially in Kingston, MA on the backroads around Route 3--usually winter or early spring, always sunny. My apartment in Plymouth, dressing to work on the Mayflower. New people at work--an overused mix tape in the deck, taking the long way to get coffee on a day off, repeating the best songs.

"Land of Canaan:" Kyle Parrish (unknown reason on this one), living in downtown Plymouth, the party that happened when I moved in there.

"Walk Away:" Finally deciding it was over with John, but with the complete awareness that I didn't want it to be over and would keep looking back anyway.

"Perfect World:" Working out in RI over the winter because I had gained about ten extra pounds--very dry and cold for a long time. Trip to the gym then to get a smoothie, walking around my neighborhood in the cold with a book on tape in the deck, counting the days to resuming work.

"Watershed:" Sitting in my car after finishing the Interpreter's Test talking it out with Chris. Very nervous, very tired, not certain how well I did on it.

"World Falls:" Myself, my philosophy, what grounds me. Seeing the simplicity, seeing the complexity and how beautiful those things in life are.

"Chickenman:" Sara Mahoney (again, unknown reason on this one, too), driving down Route 44 to Plymouth in the morning, few cars out, sunny, road stretches out interrupted ahead of me.

"Kid Fears:" In the office in my apartment in Bridgewater--horrible feeling of nervousness. Knowing what was eventually coming, knowing what I was going to eventually lose--or maybe never actually had.

"Hey Jesus:" Finally losing it--or giving it back perhaps. Alone in my apartment in the living room wrapped in a blanket with my cats, the music on the TV on, needing to sleep, bottle of chardonnay.

"Rise Up:" Walking back from class, needing to be picked up by something--long walk, played it several times. Coming back after my loss--talking to myself in the rear view mirror of my car on a break in the library parking lot. Putting a list of quotes up on the wall at the Mayflower.

"Let Me Go Easy:" Hearing the words you know you need to say, being too weak to say them. Wanting it close and pushing it away by necessity. Anticipating the pain when you cut it from you, and it's so much worse when you're in control because you rip yourself away and create it.

Thank you, ladies, it has be a fantastic ride so far, and I hope you'll continue to be there as it goes on. Couldn't have done it without you.

Songs for anyone else? Any similar phenomena for you? Please feel free to share.

Sailing Off, Hoping For A Good Sunset

Classes for this program just officially finished up this past week, and now we embark on the open, unpredictable seas of working on your own project...well, on your own. It's like taking a sailing course with a bunch of other people. You each get a small, individual basic sailing vessel. At first, you're all reasonably close together in the water. Someone on a larger, easy to see boat is yelling orders to you from a central vantage point and you are taught to raise the sail, haul the right lines, and not crash into each other while at the mercy of the elements on the ocean. Then, eventually, it becomes a "free sail;" they let you go, and you start moving in whatever direction is appealing to you (or maybe whatever direction the wind happens to be taking you).

So, what happens now? Well, you've got to take what you know now and go for it. This is what you showed up to do ultimately anyway, isn't it? You're going to go off in your own direction. Some people you'll never meet up with--they were more attracted to the harbor in the other direction. Some won't go very far at all, and if you're intent upon really going on out there, you're going to leave them behind. Then again, there are going to be a couple of people who you may lose sight of at first, and then later on, you find again a little farther along in the journey--perhaps people you didn't expect to be there. And then, of course, there are the people who want to go to the same place you do. Some of them are aware of it and stay fairly close by, others are also aware and make an attempt to sail a different route on purpose. Regardless of who or what is around you, one thing remains the same--it really is you in that boat on the water, and you're going to have to expect to find yourself alone out there a good portion of the time.

One of the biggest contradictions is the idea of a "community." When you're thrown somewhere with a bunch of other people, you inevitably create a community through that shared experience. What happens when those common elements disappear? Maybe the point is effort-based--this means that you're going to have to take common bonds, common experiences, and then create opportunities to sail side by side for a little while. Someone may turn off on the way to explore something that doesn't appeal to you at the moment, but that doesn't mean that when you spot them on the horizon again, you won't point your boat in that direction and sail on over. You aren't side by side anymore desperately trying to distinguish between the tiller and the rudder. You know what those are, and you're off to discover other things in other places with new knowledge of the trade. However, in the end, you are all doing the same thing, albeit in different places and by different rules--you're all going off to find something. Maybe it's worth remembering that no matter what the differences are, that common basis remains the same.

So, as we all sail off....let's hope for a good sunset.

Elusive Silver Lining

It's always hard when you have to admit to yourself that you're not happy. I don't see that so much as giving up as really just coming to terms with what is your reality. The most difficult thing is knowing that the environment that you're in isn't going to present you with what you're looking for--and maybe being in a place where that isn't present actually enlightens you to what that thing or those things are.

It's not that you aren't willing to do what it takes to find it--it's just that regardless of the leads you have followed and the efforts you have made, nothing has really materialized. And, I think the toughest thing is not really being able to talk about it either because no one is going to have a clue what you are trying to express, you just don't have that kind of relationship with anyone, or you just don't know what to say in the first place--or all of those, or maybe none of them.

I wish I had something enlightening to say. Unfortunately, I don't.

Stuck in the Middle

Have you ever felt like you don't have a place? That you fall in between two or more "realities" or "conceptions" of something, and as a result, you try to fit into one or the other, but neither really feels right?

Maybe times like these force you not to pick a "one" or the "other." Maybe they make you think about the similarities and differences that you share or don't have in common with those other realities.

And, in the end, there is always a choice. You can either choose whatever is readily available--choose between what is around you even though you know that those options aren't quite right or you can choose to exist outside of them. The harder choice, of course, is choosing to stay true to yourself. Here you are, you've got nothing but you, and that has to be enough--it may have to be enough for a long time or tomorrrow may change everything. It's always the most difficult to stay true to something when you're not quite sure what that is.

Or, the one good thing is that these kinds of experiences force you to take one more hesitant step in the direction of knowing yourself. But, let's be honest, they're not enjoyable to go through.

Up on the watershed,
Standing at the fork in the road,
You can stand there and agonize till your agony's your heaviest load,
I'm going to fly as the crow flies,
Get used to a country mile,
When you're learning to face your path at your pace,
Every choice is worth your while.

But ending up where I started again makes me want to stand still.

Sometimes, You Just Don't Know What to Ask For...

...so, you don't ask for very much at all. Or maybe, you're asking for everything.

The thin horizon of a plan is almost clear,
My friends and I have had a tough time,
Bruising our brains hard up against change,
All the old dogs and the magician,
Now I see we're in the boat in two by twos,
Only the heart that we have for a tool we could use,
And the very close quarters are hard to get used to,
Love weighs the hull down with its weight.

But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, will I miss the point?
That's where I need to go.

No way construction of this tricky plan,
Was built by other than a greater hand,
And with the love that passes, will I understand it,
Watching closely over the journey?
Yeah, but what it takes to cross the great divide,
Seems more than all the courage I can muster up inside,
But will we get to have some answers when we reach the other side?
The prize is always worth the rocky ride.

But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, will I miss the point?
That's where I need to go.

Sometimes I ask to sneek a closer look,
Skip to the final chapter of the book,
And maybe steer us clear of some of the pain it took,
To get us where we are this far,
But the question drowns in its futility,
And even I have got to laugh at me,
No one gets to miss the start of what will be,
Just holding on for the ride.

But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, will I miss the point?
That's where I need to go.

It's funny how a whole decade later, the meaning still applies.