Juxtaposition

Back when the "New Material" post was written I went through a life transition that was both tangible and intangible. Among the intangible lies a change in my daydreaming habits. Before coming to Italy the Renaissance period fascinated me. I've seen countless films set in that time period, and I never seem to tire of them. I listened to classical music and painted scenes colored with words that the notes inspired in me - needless to say these scenes never graced the time in which we now live. Now my headphones sing with synthesizers instead of pianos and drum machines instead of timpani. I remarked a couple of weeks ago how my daydreams no longer flock backwards some 500 years, but forwards to futuristic nirvana.
Today, though, as I sat in Caffe' Amerini, I strolled back towards old friends in my 16th Century Poetry anthology - Marlowe, Donne, and Sidney, to name a few. I discovered a new poem by Donne that gave me chills, copying it meticulously into my journal, and afterwards I contemplated its significance. The poem, titled "The Sun Rising," addresses the Dawn and says lovely little things like this:
She is all states, and all princes I.
Nothing else is.

Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere:
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

Hardy a modern/futuristic way of expression, however beautiful it is. Can my two realms of daydreaming ever coexist? I'm not sure they can outside of the simple act of reading Sidney's "Astrophil and Stella" while listening to arguably over-the-top synth anthems.
But I like juxtaposition. I like what it does to us. It's fitting that I'm dreaming in the 16th Century and floating around in spacy bliss in the same mental breath. This means my imagination is not bounded by what makes sense. Since when have imaginations been subjected to rationality anyway?
Whenever I think of juxtaposition a favorite image comes to mind. College students often are not fortunate enough to have a wide array of kitchen ware, but we usually do manage to get our hands on cheap wine and champagne with relative ease. This leads to sometimes drinking said "champagne" in coffee mugs. Last time this delightful phenomenon happened to me I giggled at its peculiarity and also did something quite curious - I subconsciously clutched the mug close to my body as though its contents would warm me, fully knowing they wouldn't.
Some things just don't make sense when put side by side - Renaissance and Future, Champagne and Coffee Mugs, My Nana watching School of Rock late at night, eating McDonald's in Florence, etc. We do things to try and put them back into context, which is natural, but being flexible with what is considered normal and "strange," is refreshing.
I think John Donne would have enjoyed flashdancing in Kanye shutter shades and some boss Nikes.

Is that even legal?

Beth once posted about intangible transitions - when does a person stop being one-dimensional and start being a dynamic character in one's life?
Speaking of intangible transitions, I got this email last week from Serena, a woman at Palazzo Rucellai:

Dear students,
This is to remind you that tomorrow is the deadline to have your money back from the canceled match: Fiorentina-Napoli. After this date I won't refund you any more
Ciao
Serena

This got me to thinking...at midnight tonight does the money really stop being mine and transition into being yours? Is that even legal? I'm pretty sure that the 20 euro I paid you is still MY 20 euro even after midnight on the deadline. However, if it is legal I'd like to say the following:

Dear Mom and Dad,
This is to remind you that tomorrow is the deadline to withdraw money from your bank account. If you do not withdraw all of your savings by tomorrow, I will not refund you after it magically becomes mine at midnight.
Ciao,
Rachel

Bboying in Napoli

Quiz Me!

Lately I've been taking lots of online quizzes. This usually occurs either late at night or in the morning before class. So far, I know these things about myself:
-My pimp name is Scandalous Money.
-If I were a time of day, I'd be a Sunrise.
-My vocabulary is only at B+ level. I resent that, and I'd like to know how they came up with it.
-If I were a pair of boots I'd be combat boots, which makes me want to retake the quiz.
Lastly,
-If I were internet slang, I'd be "OMG!" OMG, I would?!
On some level I agree with most of the results, especially the pimp name, but all of the questions I've answered have been pretty basic, or the answer choices don't even contain things that I would ever do, like, or say. I choose anyway.
This got me to thinking about the little boxes in which we put ourselves and the labels that inevitably get thrown in there with us. I hope I'm not projecting my mental processes onto others but, usually these labels are pretty specific. For example this question, "How would you describe yourself?," was followed by the answer choices: Visionary, Inquisitive, Talented, Observant, Creative, or Daring. Or, "What's the first thing people notice about you?" : Your confidence, your brain, your intensity, your charm, your sense of humor, or your heart?
While I'm not sure if any of those describe perfectly who I am, or what people think when they meet me, I attempt to pick one that I think best encompasses all of the labels that I've made for myself.


Is this a bad thing? I think being forced to oversimplify yourself, climbing out of your personality box and looking at it, is healthy sometimes. I'm Inquisitive. My boots are made for Strutting. I'd prefer to be able to Read Minds. I like the mental flexibility that's afforded to me by taking these arguably silly quizzes. I'm forced to suppress all of those complexities that come rushing when I read questions that force me to sum myself up in only one word. Online quizzes won't listen to me as I have a 10 minute conversation about why I wouldn't necessarily say I'm just inquisitive.
I'm a big fan of quizzes, and just being quizzical in general. I've realized that I have a lot of subconscious, or not-so-subconscious, quizzes that I subject people to - mostly having to do with someone's ability to respond to random questions (take notes). If someone can respond to something like, "If you were a bathrobe, what would you look like? Would you be fuzzy or silky? How many pockets would you have? Would you be used after a shower, or just to lounge around in?" then I automatically have more respect for them than I did before I asked the question - good, you can think on your feet and you care enough about this conversation to want to steer it to an interesting place. These mental exercises aren't meant to trap you - I'm not asking for a 30 minute response about WHY you'd be made of terry cloth, I just want you to play along and give me some food for thought.
That being said, I think the most dangerous mental quiz I've administered so far went something like this:
"Tell me something."

(Photo by Annie Leibovitz)

P.S. I just found out that of all the mythological creatures I'd be a Mermaid because:
I'm a total daydreamer, and people tend to think I'm flakier than I actually am.
While my head is often in the clouds, I'll always come back to earth to help someone in need.
Beyond being a caring person, I am also very intelligent and rational.
I (apparently) understand the connections of the universe better than almost anyone else.

Incandescent Happiness

I've always loved the word "incandescent" or "incandescently." An Italian friend told me a couple of days ago that his three favorite English words were: dank, awesome, and schedule. Obviously he's never heard "incandescent" before.
I posted this song a few days ago when on the "Peace! Love! Ecstasy!" post, but I'm not sure if you all heard it since it was kind of hard to spot. Here it is again, and in much more obvious form:

Empire of the Sun - Walking on a Dream

I love this song. Seeing as I love music and I love movies, I have a slight problem (?) in that when I listen to songs I like, I often picture how the music video should look, or in what movie scene I would put the song.
In this case, I walk out of my apartment (the song is playing at this point) and begin my walk to Palazzo Rucellai for classes, the sun is shining. I'm wearing, this is important, my Nike Vandals that are pictured, and beams of light begin to emanate (another good English word) from them. The rest of the song consists of me moonwalking and flashdancing slightly above the ground in an incandescently happy manner - I haven't decided if people should join me yet, that might be too cheesy.
The thing is, that mental image isn't too far from the truth. I'm extremely happy here, though it's just began to hit me that this experience is almost over - a month and a half and I'll be back in Charlottesville. Despite the feelings that were promised over the past 3 months - depression, confusion, desperate happiness at the revelation of the experience's impermanence - I just feel content. I know that I'll be sad to leave, but I'm also really looking forward to getting back and having new eyes for my beloved Charlottesville.
I just looked up incandescent and the definition is as follows: emitting light as a result of being heated.
Things that are responsible for my spontaneous and continuous outbursts of light: new friends, seeing family soon, having another place that feels like home, and of course, my delightfully overactive imagination.

My Inanimate Object Doppelganger

Doppelganger, hailing from mid 19th century German, means, "an apparition or double of a living person." This pair of shoes is my doppelganger in inanimate form - maybe just because I'm lusting after them, but I'm still pretty sure that if I were a pair of shoes, those would be it. Sure, they're a little obnoxious and ostentatious, two things I hope that I am not, but for some reason this sounds like poetry to me:
Creative Recreation low top sneakers with metallic leather upper; velcro strap; gold laces; rubber soul...um, sole.

Peace! Love! Ecstasy!

When this girl was in Paris she inevitably encountered some moody Parisians (and some nice ones too!). Bethie and I were on the metro on the way back to our hostel, suspiciously named "Oops!," and a couple of old men strutted on and began to play their accordions. Oh, Paris. While Bethie and I were smiling ear to ear, the rest of the busy travelers were less than impressed. In fact, some of them looked down right pissed off. I unsuccessfully tried to smile at the guy sitting across from us and he didn't even have the courtesy to glare at me - "I'm not even going to waste any energy on you by altering my facial expression," he seemed to say. What's gained by being this way? I would rather burst into a beatific smile on command, and regularly, than nurse a sour expression like a self-inflicted wound.
Walking down the streets in Florence I've tried on multiple personalities. I've done the pouty, I-have-somewhere-to-be purposeful walk. Then there was the jaded, I-live-here-and-nothing-phases-me-anymore strut. They were okay, but I don't think they looked either good or convincing on me. Lately I've donned the incandescently-happy-and-cheerful-girl, what should we call it,... parade. Apparently (I just used a thesaurus) parade is a synonym for walk and I think that's the most accurate.
I've found it's way more enjoyable to connect with the random people I meet on the street instead of brushing them off like flies. Instead, if I feel like smiling, I smile. I love watching people stare after me, wondering why I'm so happy. I sincerely hope I incite them to recall a time where they unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile, and how it burst out of them like a ray of sunlight through a window.
Today I took my happy parade even further. I went to the market today, spontaneously bought a bunch of tulips initially unaware of what I should actually do with them. As I was walking down the street, listening to this song, I passed Rosella's shop. She's a gorgeous Italian woman who's always been incredibly nice to Beth and I...she needed a tulip. So it went the rest of my walk through the city - my happy, hippy parade spreading sunshine and now, flowers - how appropriate.

The thing is, why not do something like that once in a while? As everyone has heard since grade school, less muscles are used in smiling than in frowning, so unless you're working on improving your muscular strength around your mouth, just give it up and bust out those pearly whites. I don't care anymore if it's painfully obvious that I'm one of those legendarily friendly American girls, after all, no one criticizes the Mona Lisa for her mysterious smile.
Today as I walked by with my tulips I passed a number of street vendors selling prints of famous artwork. One of them clutched his chest and called out, I kept walking but put my hand on my heart and smiled back at him. One of my new favorite songs shouts, "Peace! Love! Ecstasy!" I wholeheartedly agree.

P.S. Sorry for the creepy mime picture.