"dear god, don't let me fall apart. . . i have turned away and searched for answers i can't understand"

- Jars of Clay

Alright my loves, I guess I will soon be posting from Orvieto. Apparently there is a pizzeria, Charlie's, which has a good deal on wireless internet, so I won't be completely out of touch, I am pleased to say. And of course there is always the usual postage service, which takes a week or so to deliver, but is fun and just like being from the 18th century.

Alright then. Don't let any kind of anything bite. = )

"i'm tired of being ordinary - don't care if there's people staring"

Today I took a page out of Katie Ness's book and did a lot of Orvieto dancing. There are a few steps you absolutely have to follow when organizing an Orvieto dance: first, you have to shout "ORVIETO DANCE!" and second, you have to dance like your life depended on it. Preferably there is an audience to this, because otherwise it becomes much less amusing. Music doesn't hurt, but is certainly not necessary.

I guess technically it is Thursday, so technically tomorrow I leave for Orvieto. It is tres crazy. I am wildly excited. I have one suitcase packed, so I think that is a good place to be in. It would be better if I had everything, but I discovered that I really like to discuss my packing with someone as I go along, so I may drag Mom into my room to keep me company and discuss as I finish. Then I'll be able to whittle my clothing choices down a bit more, I think. Also, I am breaking out the old classic BBC version of Pride and Prejudice to watch as I pack (somehow that became tradition when I first went off to college). Today I made it through the first half, so maybe tomorrow I will see the second half and pack the second suitcase.

A ton of props and points to the First Bible Sunday school class... they are pretty much the most hospitable people ever. I guess I'm thinking specifically of Joseph, Jon Tucker, Jon, and Alicia. I got to hang out with the guys at least tonight, and it was rockin'. Even if they do like science and understand things like weapons, they are uber-cool. Also, tonight they told me that they really liked my praying style, so I am all filled with endorphins.

Actually, you know, I'm just filled with endorphins in general. Because of everything. The world is heck of awesome. There are about five people I need to call tomorrow and I need to go to the bank and I need to do art and English lessons with Avery and I need to clean up my room and finish packing and I need to get everyone's addresses ... so tomorrow will be heck of busy. But you know? I am looking forward to it with a smile. And way much energy.

"around the ceiling of the heart is where we find the things that send us away, to where the blind can see the stars"

- Jars of Clay

I am the proud new consumer of antibiotics. Hopefully they will aid me in my battle against my arch nemesis, The Sickness. I've been sick three times since I got home at Christmas, so I suppose it's no surprise that this time it turned into a sinus infection. I cannot wait to be all better. = (

On a good note, I feel like after a week I'm beginning to be become comfortable with using the "we" voice. After all these years I thought I was done learning English, but apparently there are always new bits of grammar to learn. Like the subjunctive. I have no idea what the subjunctive is. Or having to say "I wish I were" instead of "I wish I was"? Yeah, that's pretty weird.

I'm leaving on Friday. I'm leaving on Friday! There's only four more days until I go to Italy! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!

"while i lay, i'd dream we're better, scales were gone and faces lighter."

- Jars of Clay

I think it's become an informal tradition for me to post a poem on a Sunday. It's certainly not one that I mind, at least not for now. We will see if I continue posting poems post-Orvieto, or, I suppose, even whether I continue blogging post-Orvieto. I love Louise Gluck a lot; she was one of the first poets I ever really found. I say that, but I certainly haven't finished the finding process yet. In re-reading her book The Wild Iris last semester (a full year and a half after I was first introduced to it), I found out that all of my favorite poems are also, among other things, pretty blatantly related to sex. So I'm a little self-conscious posting them now (as much because of my failure to realize that particular dimension for so long as anything else I suppose). But I think "Vespers" is a fairly safe poem, and a very good one for a Sunday:

Vespers

I don't wonder where you are anymore.
You're in the garden; you're where John is,
in the dirt, abstracted, holding his green trowel.
This is how he gardens: fifteen minutes of intense effort,
fifteen minutes of ecstatic contemplation. Sometimes
I work beside him, doing the shade chores,
weeding, thinning the lettuces; sometimes I watch
from the porch near the upper garden until twilight makes
lamps of the first lilies: all this time,
peace never leaves him. But it rushes through me,
not as sustenance the flower holds,
but like bright light through the bare tree.

"speaking the condition of somebody else's mouth."

- Theodore Roethke

Alternate title: "No 'Amen,' because I am not done praying."
(Last Sunday my class asked me to pray - and then laughed hysterically because I forgot and instead of saying "amen," I said "OK, God, I'll talk to you later.")

Today I got a pair of stripey teal underwear (why is irrelevant, so don't ask me). I know that isn't the sort of thing you're supposed to announce to the world, but I just had to, because it has a funny sequel. Apparently, there's an absurdly-colored-underwear dance (says a friend who probably wants her name to remain unassociated with this conversation). When you (or a really really close friend) acquires a pair of silly underpants, you are supposed to do a dance (wow, if I'd left out that parenthetical phrase, that would be in iambs. Catchy first line for a kids poem, don't you think?). How does it happen that I've gone through twenty years of life and no one ever told me about the absurdly-colored-underwear dance before? I feel like my eyes have been opened to something new and wonderful (and so very, very odd).

Someday, I swear, I'll act completely like a grown-up and not get quite so tickled at the thought of things like absurdly-colored-underwear dances, or kids' books, or ridiculous rhymes. Just not quite yet. I hope that's OK with everyone. Right now I'm going to avoid responsibility with all my might, like if I could avoid the responsibility of packing I could avoid the absolute terror of leaving for Italy next Friday. I know it will be great, and I know that once I get there I will love it, and I know that somewhere inside I am also terribly excited, but I am primarily just shaking in my boots.

Good thing I got new boots and I look darn attractive in them.

"I'm trying to use humor to help me face adversity. You know that famous photo of the Chinese protestor standing in front of that column of tanks? I bet he was making silly faces at them."

"yes! i fried you in the right embrace: the close kiss of why not."

- Theodore Roethke

Today I read Theodore Roethke's "On the Poet and His Craft," and it was actually very interesting. There are only a few of Roethke's poems that I really connect with, but his prose, particularly when he's ranting or exhorting his students, is totally engaging. Probably I would have hated him as a person or as a professor - by all accounts he was blustering and didn't give praise lightly, but to read his prose is fun. He has some interesting advice to poetry instructors.

Here are a few more fragments I enjoyed immensely:

"strange little women full of ticks and ethics; existentialists with wet hands"

"ah, sweetlings, a sleep in your fat, if you don't once in a while, at least look outside, the angels will be forever angry."

"That block you're always talking about - are you sure it doesn't fill your entire head? You don't like paint and are afraid of it? Try drawing with chalk in your navel. I mean: be true to your own constrictions. Get down where your obsessions are. Live with the desperate and you'll survive."

"stamping a tiny foot against God."

"I taught you as I should; not what I know but what I do not know. I cut you down, and left you singing in your best bones."

So, today I suppose I don't have many thoughts of my own - but with Theodore Roethke, I would wish you ("dear darling provocatives"), "the swoops of many fish. May your search for the abiding be forever furious."

Scusi, dov'e piazza san marco per favori? e li? Gratzie.
Si, io vore mangare quelcose.
[spellings almost completely made up]

Eight days until Italy, not counting today, which is almost over.

P.S. I found this great quote: “I drink a lot about my thinking problem.”

"i'm either going to be a good writer or a poor fool."

- Roethke

Apparently my cold has decided that being cured is not an option. I am not getting better, I am getting worse. But! I am not letting that stop me from being in a good mood.

This weekend is looking like it will be tres fun. I mean, I'm kind of trying to see everyone one last time before I head off to Italy, so I'm going to see a couple of movies, do some crafty stuff with Abbi, go to church, all that jazz. Also, I suppose I need to pack and finish all those little project-type things I swore I would finish before I leave. I should, in all honesty, being doing that right now.

But I am tired, and sick, so I think it's my prerogative to take a small nap.

Also, today we had a small freak snow flurry. I took a mini-movie of it with Aaron's camera in case you don't believe me. If I knew how to post that up on my blog, I would, because it's heck of pretty.

Happy Valentine's day to all of you -