The One With Pompeian Dogs
When I was in Pompeii there were quite a few dogs running about or following people, or resting in the shade. I thought they belonged to somebody at first, that they came with their owners, maybe some locals who decided to see Pompeii. They didn't look dirty or sick in any way so it was a while before I began to entertain the idea they might be strays. Nonetheless, it was still odd that so many of them would make the ruins of Pompeii their home, and even stranger was the fact that no one (the site employees) so much as tried to chase them off.
There was something about these dogs, something that tugged at my heart, and it wasn't just my usual "abandoned animal syndrome" as I like to call it (whenever I see abandoned animals, my maternal instinct automatically kick in and I drop everything to try to help them). Naturally, that happened as well, when I saw one of the dogs lying in the scorching sun and not looking good and so I tried to get her to drink some water from the bottle (and some American moron told her man to "forget about the dog and photograph the important things" when he suggested the dog might be dying). But anyway, like I said, there was something about them, something that will probably leave these dogs engraved in my memory forever.
Of course, I'm not a fan of unresolved questions, and so as soon as I got home and realize the subject was really bothering me, I decided to do my own research. Who would write something about stray dogs in Pompeii ruins, you wonder? Well, something told me that someone would. And, of course, I was right. Apparently, the dogs were much protected in ancient Pompeii. Almost every house owned at least one dog and, not to say they were sacred animals, but they were allowed to freely roam the streets, were certainly protected by law from any harm as well as always treated with respect and completely provided for. According to legend, the Pompeian dogs were the first to perceive the signs of the approaching disaster and attempted to alert their owners, but they refused to listen, or maybe couldn't understand. Several days before Vesuvius erupted, all the dogs that were not tied abandoned the unsuspecting city. They walked for days with no destination, but although their lives were spared, they could never return home. The dogs that inhabit Pompeii today, according to that legend, are thought to be the spirits of those dogs who finally found their way back home.
Of course, it's very unlikely (although, I'm an open-minded person, so whatever you choose to believe; personally I like this version), but the fact is that these dogs have made Pompeii's ruins their home. They live there, often spend their entire lives there, depending on the care of the staff (and they do provide for them, they even collect donations for them), or a snack or two from the tourists. These dogs are very friendly, kind, well behaved and very polite. Over the years, there has never been an incident of a dog attacking a person, harming tourists or playing some kind of mischief. Over the years, they have become an inseparable part of the Pompeii attraction, and the city is unimaginable without them.
So there you have it. Not just dogs after all. I knew I should have paid more attention to them. This blog is completely and utterly dedicated to the Dogs of Pompeii.
Mood: Studyish
Listening to: Franz Ferdinand - Come on Home
Posted on Tue, Oct 9 2007 @ 19:58
2 comments
The One With Rome
Well… it's that time of the month again. Or the week, or the day or the hour… it's blogging time. And no, you don't need to be a genius to know it is gonna be all about Rome, but you more than definitely can be an idiot and assume it won't 
. As I told Stephen even before we returned home, I probably wouldn't remember everything, or even most things, by the time I'll actually get the chance to write about it (and frankly, I didn't think it'd be that soon, but I surprisingly finished my lecture for Wednesday just now, so I'm free), and I really don't, but I'll try to give it my best with, for starters, breaking the trip up into individual days.
Day #1:
We arrived in Ciampino airport around 16:30, I think, but by the time he collected his luggage it was around 17:00. As soon as we stepped out onto the fresh air I realized two very important things… 1) the air was not at all fresh and 2) while it may have been October in Dublin, it was still July in Rome. It wasn't hot. Hot doesn't cover it. It was friggin' roasting and I started melting as soon as I stepped past the airport's doors. To make things worse, we had to wait for the bus to the city for another 30 minutes or so, in which we (or I) of course, roasted in the Italian sun. When we finally got on the bus, the driver for some inexplicable reason decided to take his time turning on the air conditioning… just to make things a slightly bit worse.
The trip to the city took about 40 minutes, I think, and when we finally got there… we had our first official encounter with Termini Station. 
Now, I don't know how many of you have ever been to Termini Station, but to give you a hint… imagine the busiest and biggest central train station you've ever been to, multiply it by a million and you'll get a remote impression of what I'm talking about. So naturally, we got lost almost immediately (we wanted to purchase the RomaPass there before heading off to the hostel), and eventually had no choice but to find a way out (a process during which we got lost again) and make our way to our hostel. So we eventually did get out and seeing as I was map-girl for the trip and pretty much called the shots (and of course, got us lost and sidetracked) I tried to make sense of the only decent Rome map in our possession and make our way to the hostel, which was supposed to be 5 minutes away from Termini. After getting here and there but never where we needed for like an hour, we finally made it there. The guy in the hostel was high, I'm pretty sure of it. He could barely calculate change, but amazingly enough did get us to our room pretty uneventfully. The room itself was grand. Just the right temperature, decent beds with fresh linen (which he unpacked right before our eyes so definitely fresh), clean shower with toilet paper, soaps and shampoos, toilets, warm water… pretty much everything, really.
We dropped our stuff and went to find the nearest restaurant, which was just around the corner and served us for three consecutive days. Now… when I finally tasted my first real Italian pizza, my first thought was – honestly – that I had never had anything remotely as heavenly in my life. And with every passing day I could still say that every new dish was out of this world. I'd loved Italian food long before this trip, but having tasted real Italian food in Rome made me love it even more, if that was possible. To be perfectly honest, I think the food in Italy deserves a blog of its own, so I better stop now before it gets all about the food. Let's just wrap it up by saying that I finally understand why Italians love to eat so much. Anyway, seeing as it was running late already, we just headed back to our hostel after dinner and spent a little time planning the following day (not too much though because I had already planned the entire trip down to the second) before going to bed.
Day #2:
We woke up at 5:00 and were out the door by 6:00. The first day was our "Churches Day" and having been told it would take us about 15 minutes to walk to the nearest church, I was feeling rather optimistic, but of course… it wasn't to be. Apparently, the Romans don't particularly care about their tourists in the sense that they have deemed certain "minor" streets not important enough to be included in their maps, which makes it incredibly easy to make a wrong turn and keep heading in the wrong direction for about half an hour before you finally find that random street sign that tells you you're completely on the wrong street that is in fact a dozen blocks away from the one you thought you were on. So in a nutshell, we got to Santa Maria Maggiore at 7:15 instead of 6:15 (and as we found out later when we already did know the way, it really did take about 10-15 minutes to walk from our hostel to the cathedral).
From there onwards, we moved further into the very centre of Rome, visiting church after church, and to state the obvious, I was blown away every single time. Not only by the beauty and elegance of the buildings and their architecture, but also by their magnificent interiors, sculptures and paintings. I knew exactly which churches I wanted to see because I had particular paintings, sculptures and artists in mind, whose masterpieces I'd been waiting to see for years, so each and every one was like an individual pilgrimage to me and I was in awe allover again. The experience of standing in front of Bernini's "Ecstasy of St. Teresa", Caravaggio's "Madonna del Loreto", "St. Mathew and the Angel", "Calling of St. Mathew", "Crucifixion of St. Peter", "Conversion of St. Paul", Raphael's Chigi Chapel, Michelangelo's "Moses" and other masterpieces cannot be described in words, or at least not for me. I'm not ashamed to say that I actually had tears in my eyes when I looked at some of them for the first time. It was an otherworldly experience which has no rival; a sensation of utter disbelief and adoration nothing can recreate.
On that day we visited Santa Maria Maggiore, Santa Maria della Vittoria, San Luigi dei Francesi, Santa Maria del Popolo, Sant'Agustino and San Pietro in Vincoli. Apart from churches, we visited Piazza Minerva, Piazza Navona, Piazza Barberini, Fontani Trevi, Ponte Sant'Angelo and the Pantheon (which was an amazing experience in its own right, just to see that ancient building, to stand by its massive columns and inside the lavishly decorated enormous space was breathtaking, even more I think than the churches due to its size and age). After that, we visited Palazzo Barberini, which now houses the famous art collection and saw the magnificent pieces it had to offer; not only the paintings and sculptures (Hanz Holbein's famous portrait of "Henry VIII", Caravaggio's "Judith and Holofernes" and Domenico Beccafumi's "Madonna and Child" among others), but the breathtaking frescos as well. I think I spent about half an hour in the Grand Salone alone.
Surprisingly enough, we also had time to visit the Colosseum together with Palatine Hill and Foro Romano, which was absolutely magnificent. Once again, although there was no art to be seen (unless you include ancient roman architecture), just the sense of being in that place, feeling and breathing the centuries of history it survived through, with the numerous ghosts of the once busy life of imperial Rome surging through it. As spectacular as the remains of the Imperial Fora and Palatine Hill were though (also must be mentioned is the breathtaking view of Rome from Palatine Hill), the massiveness and grandeur of the Colosseum is second to none. This inspirational structure, displaying mastery of all four Classical Orders and the amount of labor that was put into its construction leaves one with nothing but awe and admiration. The only downfall of that otherwise magnificent day was the bunch of cons in Roman costumes who tricked us into a photoshoot that ended up costing us 20 euro. It made me so angry that even writing about it now, with days having gone by in between, it still awakes the exact same feelings. But either way, fuck them. The day was spectacular. We came back to our hostel shitlessly tired but I, at least, couldn't be happier (until the following day, but I'll get to that shortly). Oh and of course, before that, we stopped at the restaurant we had visited the night before and had an amazingly delicious Italian meal (with the Godfather theme playing in the background by a street musician ) . Like I said, we were pretty damn tired so we fell asleep almost as soon as we showered, around 22:00 
.
Day #3:
We woke up around 6:00 and got to Santa Maria Maggiore around 7:15, where we whiled away the time until 7:45 or so, when we headed to a nearby street to meet our group for the Vatican tour. We got on the bus that got us straight to the entrance to the Vatican Museums, where people were already queuing, but as promised, we skipped that queue and got in relatively fast. As soon as we got our tickets from the tour guide, we broke away from the group and did our own tour of the museums.
Now, when I said the churches were breathtaking, I didn't know what I was talking about compared to the rich art collection of the Vatican museums. I finally laid eyes on Apollo Belvedere! Even though a copy of the original, he was still so magnificent in his godlike beauty, in a way no photograph could ever convey properly as they make him out to be rather plain. Of course, I couldn't resist taking a picture next to him. Then there were other famous statues and sculptures and other less famous, but still beautiful (it's the good thing about Vatican museums, you can take photos inside), and then the paintings and frescoes which were absolutely amazing. When I finally got to the Raphael Rooms I was completely blown away. Naturally, another photo was taken in front of his "School of Athens", which once again was absolutely stunning. It just shows once again that you can't really tell anything from a photograph. The photographs simply don't give any justice to these amazing masterpieces. But just to say that if a photograph inspired me to obsess about them for years to come… take a moment to imagine the real thing. That is also why souvenirs in Rome are worthless. I usually buy loads of souvenirs for friends and especially family, but this time I just couldn't buy anything. All these miniature reproductions of major sculptures and buildings can only remind you of how they would never come close to the beauty of the real thing and so buying them is simply unthinkable. I didn't buy a single one, only eventually settling for a handful of items, none of which was a miniature reproduction.
And finally… Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Oh. My. God. I've never seen something so beautiful in my life, at least not as far as frescos are concerned. I spent over an hour breaking my neck, trying to memorize every tiniest detail of this magnificence (Stephen fell asleep under the ceiling… he'll have an excuse for it, as always, but HE FELL ASLEEP UNDER THE SISTINE CEILING). Also, not to be underrated in any shape or form, Michelangelo's magnificent wall fresco of the "Last Judgment" right under the ceiling was pure genius (and sporting the fittest and hottest Christ ever 
). Well, there is nothing for it, Michelangelo's women were women only in theory and his men were, as Leonardo once said, sacks of walnuts, but there is no denial the man was a genius. Like I said, I have never seen something as breathtaking as the Sistine Chapel. Some things are just too inconceivable to be manmade, and this one is certainly one of those things. Of course, people were taking photographs in the Chapel, even in spite of the repeated requests not to in any given language, and really, there was no room to move, let alone make it possible for the guards to notice you have a camera, but I think it's all about discipline and I, for one, with all my passion for photography and desire to preserve the memories, did not have the heart to point my camera at these magnificent frescos, knowing the damage a single snap will subject them to. I'll be a liar if I say I don't regret it even a little bit, but I still think I'd have regretted it a lot more, had I actually taken the pictures.
Finally, having no choice but to leave (the place was getting far too crowded), we headed outside to Basilica di San Pietro. At this point I wonder how many more times I'll be able to use words like "spectacular" and "magnificent" before even I get tired of them, but I just have trouble finding any words worthy of the things I have seen. This breathtaking building, so richly decorated inside with frescos, sculptures, paintings and relieves, simply took my breath away. As beautiful as the churches we had seen up till then were, this one was more beautiful than all of them combined and then a few hundreds more. A combination of the genius of Bernini and Michelangelo and touched up with paintings by the likes of Raphael (the amazing "Transfiguration"), it was standing out in a league of its own. Michelangelo's "Pieta", that magnificent delicate sculpture that is so uncharacteristic of Michelangelo's general style, yet is completely and utterly worthy of his genius, of course drew huge crowds, but I still pushed my way to the front and again, nearly had tears in my eyes. The Virgin, probably Michelangelo's most feminine woman (and no wonder, as she is modeled after his mother), is one of the most delicate, human and tender sculptures I've seen by anyone besides Bernini. The entire scene of her cradling the dead body of Christ is so poignant that it really does penetrate through your very soul and you simply can't remain immune to the intensity of feelings it evokes in you. Bernini's beautiful Baldachino, on the other hand, standing right in front of the altar, is beauty on a whole different level, as it cannot quite be classified as sculpture, or evoke such powerful feelings as the "Pieta", but is nonetheless a spectacular sight. With its golden tiny detail and architectural and artistic precision, Bernini manages to once again, triumph in a way that can never be conveyed even in the best of photographs.
From there, we stepped out onto Piazza di San Pietro, from which I could admire the enormous grandeur of the basilica and the square. It is a pure architectural genius not to be rivaled. We were also lucky enough to find a shop that transferred my full memory card onto a DVD, which freed space for next day's photos.
From the Vatican, we crossed the river and headed back into the centre of Rome, where we had a brief lunch and then rushed to Galleria Borghese to make our 16:30 timeslot. We got there on time, but in no way due to Rome's public transport. We had to get a taxi, and were extremely lucky we chanced upon an honest driver that didn't overcharge and was really nice. As soon as I stepped past the threshold of the gallery, I couldn't think of anything but what I was about to see, and when I finally did see it… I actually cried. I'm not joking, for the first moment I laid eyes on Bernini's David, I had real tears in my eyes. David has been my favorite Bernini sculpture for years, but I had never laid eyes on him until then and I was simply overwhelmed by his beauty and realism. Although followed by the statues of Apollo and Daphne, Hades and Persephone and Aeneas carrying his father, David, in my heart, is still second to none. Being his most personal sculpture (he made David literally in his own image), Bernini evidently poured his heart and soul into him. After I did a couple of rounds of the entire collection, lingering in the Caravaggio room and the other Bernini sculptures, I came back to him and just sat down on the step in front of him, just looking at him for about half an hour, unable to take my eyes off him. I don't know how many of you have ever seen David, or any of Bernini's sculptures, but just so you know, nothing more beautiful has ever been carved in stone, or for that matter ever will be. That man could breathe life into marble the way that appears to be inconceivable; it is just as inconceivable that a human hand is responsible for his creations. His statues twist and turn in ways stone is not supposed to, their draperies fold and clad the body like real fabric, they breathe, cry, move; they have human expressions, imprints of each other's fingers in their flesh and tears in their eyes. They're alive; they're real. They have loose skin and sunken cheeks in old age and ripe muscles in their young prime. Their hair blows in the wind, their feet and palms curl and tense in despair and their forehead furrows with concentration. I could go on and on, but it still would never rival the otherworldly sensation of actually standing in front of these masterpieces. I heard some other tourists comment, "how did he do that?" and really, it's an inevitable mystery… how could a man do that? When I left the Borghese Gallery I had a feeling of intense regret and denial of the fact that I would not be able to see them again.
As the day rolled to a close, we ended up in the restaurant again, and with it being our last night in Rome, ate even more than before, and still, the quality of the food was second to none. Once again we ended up ready for bed around 22:00 or even 23:00, but I also changed our original plan for the following day, which was to wake up around 4:00 and be in Termini station for the 6:45 train to Naples. The reason for that was simply that we could not leave Rome without a book about the Borghese collection and we could not get it during our visit because we had to check in our bags and our timeslot was the last one (so by the time we got out, the shop was closed).
Day #4:
We woke up around 6:30 and quickly gathered our stuff and headed out. We dropped by Santa Maria Maggiore on our way to Santa Maria della Vittoria to look at Bernini's "Ecstasy of St. Teresa" one last time. Afterwards we lingered in town for another half hour, but seeing as nothing was open, walked all the way across the city to Galleria Borghese, where we finally decided upon a book each and also took a few photos in the gardens. From there we headed to a nearby bus stop, which was a mistake because we wasted about 15 minutes waiting for a bus that should have come but never came before I couldn't take it anymore and we walked over to Piazza del Popolo to get the metro from there to Termini Station. From there we took a train to Naples and from Napoli Centrale took the Circumvesuviana to Pompeii Scavi. There, before entering the site, which is 2 minutes walking from the train station, I bought most of my souvenirs, mostly for my mother (hope she likes them… I spent altogether maybe half an hour for souvenir shopping in Rome, and even that was time I did not have). That covered, we finally headed into Pompeii.
Once again, O. My. God. As soon as I entered the ruins of that ancient city, the sensation that swept over me was of awe and utter disbelief that, above all else, I was actually there. Pompeii, the most famous ghost-city in the world, and I was actually there. That wondrous city, the mystery that had been hidden for centuries under an ocean of hardened lava and passed from all knowledge before it was accidentally rediscovered was now lying at my feet in all its ancient glory. Every column, every piece of marble, every wall and roof and window… even the clay plumbing remained intact in the brick walls. It was all there. A city where time stood still, where you can still feel the presence of the people whose lives stopped so abruptly on that fateful day that forever covered their world in darkness. There was life in Pompeii now; there was something incredibly poetic about trees growing in the abandoned gardens, people's voices and footsteps filling the ruined houses and lonely streets, even dogs running about. The city of the dead was being brought back to life, even if only by temporary hoard of tourists. I couldn't help but sneak away with a broken piece of pottery I picked up in Pompeii's park. For all I know, it could be 2000 years old.
The frescoes and the mosaic were unbelievable. Just the fact that they were preserved in the condition they were preserved in is unbelievable in its own right, but to see them was… to cut a long story short, wow. They were, once again, more beautiful than any photograph I could have ever seen and completely took my breath away, especially the ones in the Vila of Mystery or the House of Venus. Even then, it was still inconceivable to me that I was looking at this beauty that had been preserved in stone for almost two thousand years and miraculously survived to this day (not thanks to tourists, I can tell you that much, I saw contemporary writings on Pompeian frescoes).
We left Pompeii behind us around 19:00, just barely making in on the Circumvesuviana back to Naples, passing the mighty intimidating mountain on our way (which now we could see much clearer with the fog evaporated). In the train station, we had ourselves a huge insanely delicious pizza for only 9 euro (yes, the prices for Italian food in Italy are unbelievable… in a good way) before boarding the train back to Roma Termini. There, our prospect was originally to spend the night at the station, but after quick deliberation we decided to catch the first coach to the airport, which we thankfully did. We spent the rest of the night there, which was admittedly very cold and very uncomfortable. In the morning we finally boarded the flight to Dublin. Three hours later… we were home.
Well, this is it; my trip to Rome. Of course there were also side incidents and funny moments which I would have certainly mentioned had I been writing it as I went along, but seeing as I didn't and I remember very little of them… what's the point. I can only say that this is one experience I will cherish for the rest of my life, short or long. And if I am ever privileged enough to have a chance to go back for a second visit, I will be the happiest person ever. There is not a person in this world, art lovers in particular, to whom I will not recommend Rome. I honestly believe everyone has to see it at least once. As wonderful as it was to come back home (and in truth, I started missing Ireland already on the third day), this was really one trip I was forced to end with regret about having to go back.
So the Rome blog has come to an end. I will now go and try to upload the photos (I managed to narrow them down to about 700 in total) and maybe I'll upload the short videos I took too soon. As for emails, I will get back to people as soon as I catch a few hours of sleep, I promise. Nicole, I'm sorry for the lack of postcard, but believe me that I really didn't have time. Also, I couldn't really think of anything but the next piece of art I was about to see, the one I've just seen and the one I was looking at, to be perfectly honest.
Before I go, I want to include this short list I put together of useful tips for a first-time trip to Rome, assuming anyone who's reading this blog and still hasn't been is interested:
Mood: Nostalgic
Listening to: Aerosmith - Dream On
Posted on Mon, Oct 8 2007 @ 06:46
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The One With Mr. Bear
I miss my voice. It's not really something I just realized, it's something that I have been gradually coming to terms with over the past few weeks. I just find myself often singing, something which I haven't done much of in the past few years, and I've just started to really realize how much I miss it. Maybe it's because I was just thinking about my dad a lot today and he was the one who was usually listening to me sing more than anyone else, but today I just really, really realized how much I miss it. 
I actually came back home from work just now and started singing "Ava Maria" to myself in the kitchen while preparing a small dinner. I wasn't really singing because I was trying to keep as quiet as possible for obvious reasons, so I couldn't possibly hit my full range, but I was rather relieved to find that I haven't lost as much of my voice's strength as I had thought (I lose quite a lot anyway). I just miss it… I really wish sometimes I had the chance to really sing again, to maybe regain my long-gone range… wishful thinking, I guess
On a different note, I decided to take up dancing classes. It's another thing I've always loved, but unlike singing, I never actually actively practiced dancing (let's just say it was one of those "unfulfilled ambitions" kinda things). But recently I was thinking about it and decided to take up a course; an evening course of about 6 weeks in October-November. The teaching is done by a Dublin dancing company (can't recall the name, sorry) and it costs 75 euro total, which is really cheap. It's contemporary dance, but based on classical ballet, which is exactly what I like (I'm not into that whole hip-hop shite, never have been). I used to take ballet classes when I was really, really young so basically I'm starting completely fresh, but I really want to do this. I haven't paid yet, I keep telling myself that I'll make a final decision once I get back home from Rome, but I know it's just me stalling again. I have already made up my mind and I'm very much at peace with this decision and very excited to finally get it going when the course starts .
Speaking of Rome… I got the confirmation email from Galleria Borghese today and I got the day and timeslot I wanted. I'm so very, very, very happy!!!
One last thing I forgot to say in the previous blog, I have welcomed a new member to my family, and his name is Mr. Bear. Mr. Bear is a small (palm-sized) stuffed bear with the cutest tiny ears ever, that some kid dumped in the store some weeks ago and I finally unofficially adopted him several days ago and have been carrying him around at work. Nobody ever came back to claim (what else is new), so on Sunday I finally had enough and took Mr. Bear home with me. Now he has joined his (also adopted) brothers, Blingster I, Blingster II and Blingster III and he's very happy in his new home. It probably sounds incredibly silly to most of you that I'm "adopting" rejected stuffed animals to give them a good home, but I don't know… I just do. You know, my mom used to always say to me when I was young that my toys had feelings and I should treat them well, and although it might sound really stupid to an adult person, it just something that stuck with me, so whenever I see someone just dumping their stuffed animals and treating them like dirt it sort of reminds me of parents rejecting children they "got tired of" (which unfortunately in our world does happen quite a bit). So I'm like that parent who picks up the unwanted child and adopts them into their home… except it's a stuffed animal. So welcome to Mr. Bear .
Mood: Longing
Listening to: Bif Naked - Lucky
Posted on Wed, Sep 26 2007 @ 00:45
329 comments
The One With The 10 Days
Wow. Last blog was exactly 10 days ago and it was almost not at all about me. I'm getting really bad at this.
So needless to say, yeah, the usual happened, which was mostly complete and utter lack of time, in this case for anything other than study, study, and yet more study. The year has only just began and already I see that I have to put all my plans aside and concentrate on as little extracurricular activities as I possibly can. I have 8 assignments coming up, all due by the end of November, two of which are lectures (approximately 20 minutes each), one case study in psychology, and the rest are 3000 words essays. In the past 10 days, I've been working on my first lecture, and I have to say that I did not expect it to be as difficult as it was to come up with and structure the bloody thing. 
It's this sort of things that really make me realize how much work my lecturers have to put into something that's basically over in 50 minutes. Frankly, just makes me admire them even more. I mean, they read, they research, they come up with a direction, they structure, they filter material… and all that for one lecture that isn't going to go down in history or be recorded in books but meant solely to make their students enthusiastic about a certain subject or make them leave the theatre wanting to read up on it some more. That's it. And I know I'm inexperienced and what takes me days will probably take them much less time, but it still is a shitload of work. 
So anyway, today was the first day I really finally had all to myself. I didn't need to work on the lecture anymore because I had finished it last night and proof-read it and now all I have to do is present it to my lecturer tomorrow so she can approve (or disapprove) it. The lecture itself is due on Thursday so no public embarrassment until then . Who am I kidding, I can't wait.
Tomorrow I'm gonna head off to college to bring back my old stack of books only to replace them with a new one for the next project, which will probably be the Bereavement lecture for psychology. Yes, I have to make a lecture / presentation of a subject related to bereavement and loss for one of my psychology modules. I can't believe I'm going to do that, but I am actually going to use my grandmother as a study case. It's personal, and frankly absurd, but that's why I'm doing it. My mom is the talking kind; she wants to talk, so it will give her the chance to talk. Not only that, the related research and study will give me the chance to better understand her.
Other than that, work is its usual sometimes shitty, sometimes grand self. Not much is happening in that department, really. The only thing I guess is that Ali's obsessive tendencies regarding Orla (mentioned several blogs ago) reached a new level of absurdity, but I'm not getting into that. As for Orla, she's gone for about a month because of personal issues and I already miss seeing her at work, I just love that girl . What else… Eimear is leaving (actually I doubt I'd see her again because I'm only doing Tuesday and Thursday night this week (other than the weekend) and she's supposed to be gone by Thursday). Didn't say goodbye, not going to even if I do see her probably. I just really don't like her most of the times, I guess. Meghan already left. Never really liked her all that much either, so whatever. 
Evelina is pregnant. Well she has been pregnant for a while now, as in I've known about it for a while, but I just never mentioned it. I'm so incredibly happy for her, but I also can't deny the fact that I'm jealous. There's just something about women getting pregnant, especially ones I know on a closer level, that just pushes the wrong buttons with me. It's not only that it reminds me that if things hadn't gone all messed up I could have been a mother by now, but also the fact that my own prospect of motherhood is unfortunately very bleak at the moment for too many reasons. Either way, getting into past losses really just makes me feel even worse, so I'm changing the subject now. I do have to find something lovely and preferably baby-ish in Rome for her though. I'd say she and Niamh are the only ones I want to get something to as far as work people are concerned.
Had a very interesting conversation with Ursula about a week ago that is still fresh in my mind (probably has something to do with how much it angered me ). Anyway, we started talking about Alla (or rather she started talking, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner). To make a long backstory short, Alla has been recently looking for a new accommodation, and Alla is a Russian woman that works with me, in her 50's or something that used to be (and to my knowledge still is) good friends with Ursula… don't know if I mentioned her before, but bearing in mind her "slightly unbearable" character, I probably did 
. So anyhow, she started going on and on about what a loser she is, how she has been in Ireland for years and still can't learn proper English, how she is still working in a crappy job, etc. And I was just standing there, gathering my entire nonexistent self-composure not to explode right there on the spot. To be honest, I still don't quite know how I managed. I have always known Ursula to be a two-faced bitch, I've always known the face she doesn't show to the "outside world", and I've never been on a particularly close relationship with Alla, but that was just absurd! I think if I had opened my mouth that day, I would have not only started defending Alla, but put Ursula in her place faster than she could say 'sorry' (in which case she would have made my life miserable, which urged me to keep quiet and get out of there as fast as possible). She was slagging Alla for not being a doctor but maybe a nurse in the best case, while she herself has done nothing with her 45 years, had no profession or qualification until she finished a bleedin' secretary course a few months ago (she still practices typing on daily basis because she can't learn even that, so I wouldn't even talk about nursing). Her English is, although admittedly not as bad as Alla's, is still pretty bad. Unlike Alla, she has EU nationality, so while Alla has an excuse to be working in a crappy job and renting rooms to get a roof over her head, she has no excuse whatsoever and although she likes to think that being a secretary is a huge step up from operating the registers in Penneys, she can't deny the fact that she is a 45 year old woman renting a room in a house with two young students. She had all the opportunities in the world and she still flushed her life down the toilet, but she has the audacity to laugh at the expense of a woman she supposedly recognize as a friend and who, if she were in the possession of an EU passport, would outdo her on any given day. And the reason she suddenly thinks she's better than the rest is because she now apparently "stepped up in the hierarchy of society"!
I know why she dislikes me so much. It's obvious psychological reaction because she sees me as a threat to her self esteem. I am (1) the daughter she should have had, and however selfish a woman is (and she told me several times that she would have never had children even if she were married), she can never completely denounce her motherly tendencies, and (2) I am the girl half her age and with half the opportunities she had that has already accomplished more than she ever would in her lifetime and dared to do things she would never dare to do. My mom and dad said at some point that the reason she actually took up that silly course to become a secretary was because she could no longer be in the same house with me having done absolutely nothing with her own life. It might be a bit condescending (and well, they are my parents), but from a psychological point of view, especially bearing in mind her all-too-righteous always-has-to-be-in-the-right character… it makes perfect sense. I didn't have too many problems with that, even when she was constantly trying to put me down, in the back of my mid I knew it was her being defensive to prove to herself she was still better, and seeing as I didn’t care about idiotic competitions, I just let it drop and ignored her to the best of my ability. But now she's getting nasty. That little talk we had (she talked, I seethed inside) seriously switched an alarm on and I didn't like it. Childishness I can handle, but adult idiocy of that level is not something I even want to get into, I have more than enough shit in my life as it is. I swear, this woman never ceases to amaze me…
So yep… with the Ursula rant behind me, moving on to Rome. Rome in 8 days now, so says my trusty counter. Joy all around . Everything is booked and secure now, except for Galleria Borghese (they finally opened the October booking today so I booked the tickets, but they now have to get back to me within 36 hours to confirm it, so I'm still pretty much afraid I might not get my desire timeslot, which means trouble as far as my daily planning and scheduling is concerned (those of you who don't know, in Galleria Borghese, probably a Roman attraction second only to the Vatican, they monitor their visitors very carefully and only allow approximately 250 visitors at a time and strictly for 2 hours, so specific timeslots are assigned to people). I'm keeping my fingers crossed though. Not giving up hope yet.
Well… that's it. There goes my blogging duty. I'm almost sure there was something else to say, but I don't remember it anyway because I can't possibly recall everything that's happened in the past 10 days. Hopefully I'll blog at least once more before the end of the month, but I wouldn't count on it if I were me.
Mood: Finally bloggish
Listening to: Metallica - Nothing Else Matters
Posted on Mon, Sep 24 2007 @ 21:38
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The One With Being Jewish
I read an old article about Mel Brooks a while back that really inspired me to write this particular blog and it's been forming in my mind pretty much ever since, except that up till now I suppose I thought it wasn't really important to even blog about (if I wrote down every single thought in my head, I'd never get away from the computer ), but now, given the circumstances, I think it is.
I always admired the man. Like with many other notable things, I have my dad to thank for introducing me to Mel Brooks and his work, and coming to think of it, I don't really know why his name is still not on my "lunch" list, but I suppose many others' aren't either. I wonder if I remember to add it by the time I finish this blog . But point is, I've been admiring his unique talent to make people laugh and also think for several years now, but somehow I never really read anything he said; not a single interview, nothing, all these years, being perfectly content just watching and rewatching his films. And now the first thing I did got me to write a whole blog about… somehow I'm not surprised.
The article in question is Mel's view on Judaism and being Jewish (yes, those of you who have been living on a different planet for the past century, Mel Brooks is 100% Jewish). He brought up some very important things that I would like to discuss here, mostly because they all reflect my opinions as well (all… but one, which I will address later). After all, there is a part of me that will always be Jewish and there is nothing I can do about it, and at least having read his words, I no longer have to think of myself as the black sheep for holding the opinions that I do.
The first very important thing he said put an ending (at least on his part) to the idea of Jews being naturally smarter and better than their fellow Christians, and quite frankly, I love him for that alone because it is such an unbelievable load of shite. Mel actually took the time to give out a shorter version of his supposed theory of natural selection regarding the so-called Jewish superiority. There is no denying that he was right in saying that for Jews illiteracy is a sin, while for Christians literacy, for hundreds and thousands of years, was reserved solely for the rich, and even then, 99% of the time, for males only. That way the Christians were literally shooting themselves in the foot as while Jews regarded education as sacred, regardless of class or sex, they were crippling their own progress. There is no denying that; it is a historical fact, and said fact largely contributed to the fact that many (I almost dare say most) great thinkers, scientists, philosophers, mathematicians, inventors, etc. over the ages were in fact Jewish. My own insert here is that interestingly enough, if you look at the world of art; the wondrous masterpieces of the Renaissance, the Baroque and other antiquities, you'll find they were made by Christians, and somehow I doubt the Biblical subject matter had anything to do with that. For some reason the Jewish race just doesn't seem to be prone to art, however they may excel in science.
Another thing he mentions that greatly crippled the Christian community and that also was another historical fact is that all the greatest minds of the Christian world were immediately shipped off to join the Church or a monastery (because it was regarded as honorable), which for obvious reasons as good as killed their exceptional genes together with them. Jews on the other hand, in Mel's words, "took very seriously the first commandment, which is to be fruitful and multiply". It is true that their best were also driven into religious circles, but anyone who knows anything about Judaism, knows that the Rabbis are "being fruitful and multiplying" about 100 times more than your average guy .
He also mentions another thing, which is that Jews had to strive to be better because they had to repeatedly prove themselves next to Christians, and I agree with that as well. However… I think I'll take this opportunity to insert something of my own in here and say that in spite of the Christian hatred and prejudice of Jews throughout the centuries, I strongly believe the Jews themselves played a very significant part in it as well. People don't resent for no reason, they just don't. In that particular case, the motive was clear – even nowadays, in our so-called enlightened world, people still fear and hate what they don't understand, so imagine what it was like centuries ago. And hundreds of years ago, these were the Jews; the people the Christians did not understand, the people who thought themselves to be naturally better, to be "god's chosen people", the people who would only mingle among themselves and shunned and scorned nearly everything the Christians knew and related to. Did they honestly think this sort of behavior would not result in fear, prejudice and hatred? In no way do I support it, even though the qualities I mentioned still exist in many Jews even today and I dislike them in people, but there is no denying that especially in those dark ages, it was a common and expected psychological response.
You rip what you sow, unfortunately. And, unfortunately, here lies Mel's greatest misconception about the Jewish race. It almost pained me to read that he said something along the lines of that Jews, who have the most reasons to weep, have the greatest capacity to laugh (that is why he does what he does). Firstly, I don't think by far that Jews are the nation with the most reasons to weep, but that is a whole other matter. As far as laughing… I wonder, was he ever in Israel, and if he was, for how long? Does he know, for example, that Israel, the Jewish State, unofficially banned many of his films due to their "offensive" subject matter and as far as "History of the World – Part I" is concerned (which I think to be one of his gems), they flat out banned it and forbade its entrance and trade in the country all together. This is the Jewish reaction to what he does.
And he doesn't really have to go that far; if he looks over to his colleague Steven Spielberg, he'll find a bitter and arrogant man, who represents most of the aforementioned Jewish qualities I dislike so much. There is no doubt that Spielberg has displayed talent (although personally speaking, I think he has about a handful of really good stuff), but while Mel brooks, even when he is just standing around doing nothing, looks like a warm and pleasant person, Spielberg looks cold, arrogant and somewhat away 'in a self-made league of his own". One of the things I admire Mel for so much is his ability to openly laugh at himself (being Jewish). In my opinion a person who can laugh at himself like that is truly an exceptional individual on all accounts. Spielberg on the other hand, lashed out at his Jewish colleague on "Back to the Future" for suggesting they might want to insert a Jewish joke in the film (DVD commentary), not to mention they nearly excommunicated Mel Gibson for letting slip a drunken anti-Semitic comment (and just for the record, I actually consider Mel Gibson to be more talented than Steven Spielberg), but when Spielberg opens his mouth spreading the word of Jewish self-praise and general suffering and other anti-Christian remarks in disguise… no one so much as says a word.
Mel's misconception of Jews is actually very easily explained. His knowledge is restricted to America and Europe, and (especially in Europe) the Jews are, in fact, as he imagines them to be. They are mostly open-minded, accepting, intelligent, hard working, humble and largely very pleasant people, no different in any way from their Christian brothers. Israel however, is a whole different story. This Jewish State, unfortunately the reflection of Jewish people onto the world, is sipped in hatred and contempt of everything non-Jewish and particularly Christian. Education in that country is shameful and higher education is possibly even worse (even with the Technion, their pride and joy). Manners are nonexistent, humility is unheard of and tolerance and understanding or even curiosity about the rest of the world is largely uncommon. But he wouldn't know that, would he? 
Even people who were there, for a week or two, they would complain about this and that, but mostly would not be aware of these things. One has to live there to be aware. He, like most people, tends to surround himself with others like him, and ironically enough, outside of this cursed Jewish State, it's easy. So how would he know, really? However unfortunate, maybe it's better this way.
So yeah… Israel set off to provoke a yet another country and got its planes shot back up its ass. Now it's threatening war and rumor has it that the war that has been brewing since before the summer will finally begin after the current Jewish holidays (if I'm not mistaken, I think it should be in a couple of weeks from now). Personally, I want little more than to see that god damned spit of land wiped off the face of the earth and spare the world any additional conflict and bloodshed, but like with many wishes, this one too has a problem, and the problem is the people. However disgusting a person is, it is not up to any human being to decide whether they live or die or to even wish death upon them, and I am no exception. I might not like the way they behave, the way they treat others, the way they do things, but that's my problem. They don't deserve to die for that. Not to mention the fact that the hateful country they love so much is responsible for more than enough lives taken or destroyed by now. All that aside though, there is a much greater problem, which is my family, that unfortunately is still there. My brother is finally about to be discharged in a month and if that war catches up with them before that happens… I refuse to even think about that. As for my mom and dad and Pif… what can they do, where can they go? Nothing and nowhere. So yes, the people. I would reduce this country to dust with my bare hands (not that it's worth much more in its current state), if it wasn't for these people… three people and one dog, the people and dog that I love. The people and dog I can do nothing to help. In times like these I really do recognize my being a failure.
Mood: Helpless
Listening to: Phantom Planet - California
Posted on Sat, Sep 15 2007 @ 00:15
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