Another attempt at travel writing, late posting.
I have been in this fascinating city for over a month now and I am able find my way around much quicker than that first night, no map needed. The Arno River I cross on my way to class each morning has not lost its charm. Nor have the views of the Ponte Vecchio, the picturesque side streets, or the cappuccino and nutella croissant I regularly have for breakfast. Leaving my routinely visited morning café, I place my empty cup and plate on the counter and wave “grazie!” to the barista. Not having class for the rest of the day, I decide to take a walk over to the Piazza della Signoria. Continue reading
A Crack at Travel Writing as a Genre:
If there was one piece of advice I gave myself before landing in Florence, the city where classical learning blossomed after a millennium of darkness… it was to avoid being a tourist. I came here to feel, to explore, and to learn. The aspirations for my journey were clear-cut, leave the selfie stick in New York and bring an open mind to Europe. Continue reading
Stereotyping is human nature. As an education major I am influentially trained to treat all students the same, and all teachers are molded into politically correct individuals. But all the education in the world cannot stop the involuntary and compulsive need to judge, to stereotype, and to treat others like dirt for no reason.
I am not only talking about race. I want to focus on something more personal than the way a person looks, acts, or dresses. There is an even greater, more dangerous stereotype that does not come from strangers. It comes from your friends, your family, and all those who are close to you.
When you become friendly with another person the dynamic you share changes. It’s as if the sun has set on that awkward ‘getting to know each other’ phase and now the general way you feel most comfortable presenting yourself to that human being is brought forth. Although I never try to be “fake,” I admit that I act differently around dissimilar groups of friends. It is not something I consciously control, but I do find myself playing the class clown as well as the advice giver, depending on what others expect of me.
~An Entire Bag of Potato Chips~
There is only a hand full of activities I would like more than to spend every moment of my twenty-four hour day writing… writing blog posts, snippets, poems, and even those little notes I like to scribble myself before bed.
However… when the writing task is mutilated into that of an essay or a case study, as I am hopelessly procrastinating from at this time, the intrinsic motivation has flown from my body and migrated south for the semester.
As I spend time writing this post, I ignore the fact that this paper is due on Tuesday… three days from this exact point in time, minus eight hours. I ignore the test I have scheduled for this Monday, you know, the one based on all those readings I neglected? I ignore the millions of letters, which make up the thousands of words I will have to skim – not read – that create hundreds of sentences inside tens of books I have barely dusted off from the bookstore.
What day is it? The nineteenth?! Has it really been three weeks?
Sprinting off the tracks
That spine tingling excitement
Makes you feel alive
Leaping at the last second
The metal grazes your heal
I will point out, this picture was taken minutes before the inspiration for this poem arose. It happened when we realized, by the yank of a whistle, we were seconds away from road kill. Not a bad way to kick off finals week.
The darkest times are
Overshadowed by the light
We find in ourselves