Into the Badlands

When, on a westward journey, you approach the Missouri River on Interstate-90 in South Dakota for the first time, the sudden change of scenery strikes you as stunning, as it promises to set an abrupt end to the hundreds and hundreds of flat Midwestern miles that you were passing for the last four hours or so, a welcome distraction to the endless farms and fields on both sides of the highway. Over millions of years, the river has gouged itself a bed through the relatively soft (so I assume) rock right in the middle of what we today call South Dakota, splitting the state into a bigger western, and a smaller eastern portion. And as the waters have gradually retracted over this incomprehensible period of time, the riverbed has turned into a fluvial valley featuring two long humped and hilly slopes on either side of the smoothly winding stream. Therefore, when you reach that peak on I-90, right at that point where it makes its sudden and unexpected drop into the valley, it is hard to keep your eyes on the road instead of gaping and wondering at this beautiful landscape that has just opened up before you, a veritable gate to the West.

I made up my mind to set out on my first Iowa-based road trip about two weeks ago, but the destination had already been set in the spring semester, when Kirk, teaching assistant in my Editing and Publishing class, had told me about the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. Since I've come to the United States not only to meet people, but also to get away from them, not for the city but for the country, Kirk couldn't have made a better suggestion.

So I checked the Badlands' camping regulations and, hooray!, they allow backcountry camping! Which I'd never done before, except for a couple of summers many years ago with my friends, on the fields outside our home village, where one night, I swear, we'd had a wild hog rummaging in our trash bags right next to our tent. Anyway, that's not quite the 'backcountry' experience I was looking for this time. I ordered a tent and some other essentials that amazon promised would be here until last Thursday, walked out all the way to the Hy-vee (I need some kind of a vehicle! Cedar Falls is just too big) to get some supplies, and rented a car online. Luckily, enterprise has a pick-up service, so I did not have to call a taxi to get to my car. I then got some other tings I still needed--sleeping bag, insect repellent, sun screen, hat, knife, etc.--at Walmart, and left Cedar Falls around 9:30 on Friday, May 23. The ride did not appear as long and dull as I had expected, partly because there is a lot of beauty (often overlooked) even along a dead straight highway like I-90; the hundreds, maybe thousands of black cows grazing placidly on their huge pastures, or the occasional abandoned farm consisting of one or two empty grey little houses and a huge decrepit barn whose immense roof came tumbling down many years ago, and right next to it that small grove of knarly old trees. Also, I listened to Florian Illies' 1913: Der Sommer des Jahrhunderts (1913: The Year Before the Storm; thanks to my buddy Steffen for that!) for about six to seven hours, a very interesting and entertaining account of Europe's cultural (and a bit political) history just before the dawn of World War I, with a huge ensemble of protagonists ranging from Sigmund Freud, Oswald Spengler, and Karl Krauss to Franz Kafka, Thomas and Heinrich Mann, and Else Lasker-Schüler to Pablo Picasso, Oskar Kokoschka, and Alma Mahler, to Josef Stalin, Adolf Hitler, and Franz Ferdinand (the archduke, not the band). Anyway, after crossing the Missouri and looking at the bumpy hills that continue for three or four miles past its western shores, I had to restart listening to the last chapter because I noticed that I hadn't been paying attention at all to what I was hearing. It was easy to focus again because the initially mentioned scenario is tricky in its promise of a change of landscape: after a few miles, you are right back in the typical flatness of the Midwestern fields. And by now, you've kind of gotten used to the pretty cows and romantically shabby farms. Very gradually, however, the rectangular fields and pastures yield to more and more open grasslands, and the dark brown and green planes are replaced by brighter hues of green, stretches of swaying grass, sometimes streaked by a grey or beige hint of sandstone and dotted by small lonely trees; you approach prairie and the Badlands.

After finishing my audiobook, I decided to go full-scale emotional and listen to Eddie Vedder's great soundtrack for Into the Wild. Just then, an impressive sandstone bluff that appeared on the horizon behind that endless stretch of grass to the left of the road finally heralded the vicinity of the Badlands. Gradually, more strange-looking peaks and oddly shaped sandstone formations came into view before I finally reached the Park's eastern entrance. I paid my $11 entry charge (which is good for 7 days!), asked the park ranger if my information on backcountry camping was correct--basically anywhere you wanted as long as it is at least half a mile away from the road--and it was, and then explored the park a bit along the road, getting off at every scenic view parking lot to have a closer look at those weird little--well, mountains (for in this portion of the park's Northern Unit [there is also a Southern Unit in which camping seems to be entirely forbidden, as I was about to learn in two days from now], the formations are very spiky, unlike the more hilly prairie of the western part) that rise out of southwestern South Dakota's prairie. Since the soft sandstone is highly vulnerable to erosion, this landscape changes quickly as it is exposed to constant shifts of weather from thunder storms to dry heat waves to severe winds to cold winters. Some parts look like a desert, or even Mars (if you have a fancy imagination); the sandstone seems to be everywhere, from the deep canyons up to ground level and all the way up to the pointed peaks. In other places, the prairie dominates, and only the sides or tops of hills break through the pallid green sea of grass. As I drove farther along, I continued looking for an area that would allow me to pack up my things and leave the car for the night in order to hike out for a mile or so. Easier said than done; in most portions that have a parking lot, the impassable bluffs and cliffs are so close to the road that I did not see how I could pitch my tent at least half a mile off of it. And all of that as the sun was already close to disappearing behind the western horizon; I think I had about an hour or so left until sunset.

As I eventually spotted an area that looked penetrable, I parked my car, got my backpack, tent, and sleeping bag, and crossed the street northward, walked across a meadow and down a steep slope, squeezed in between some bushes, and found a really nice spot. There I saw that this place was still closer than it had appeared from the road. Not half a mile yet. I went a bit farther until I reached some slopes that I had no way of descending safely, so I decided to stay here and hide behind some bushes in order not to be seen from the road which, although I could not see it from here, I knew was not yet half a mile away. Then, as I was pitching my tent, I heard a kind of hissing, a snarling, or was it the animal's burrowing in the earth?, of something in the bushes, probably the size of a porcupine, a weasel, or a badger. Could have been a bobcat; many animals live in the Badlands, and while most of them are not that dangerous, I've heard a lot of them can be pretty aggressive if you give them a reason. And what did I know of animal reasoning?! I must have invaded someone's territory here, definitely a pretty good reason to be pissed. Well, I waited a few moments as the hissing continued, not quite sure what to do, and then carefully finished putting up my tent, and my neighbor didn't seem to mind all too much anymore; the hissing eventually stopped. We would be on good terms for the rest of the night.

At dusk I sat on top of one of the nearby slopes that granted me a great view on the wide open prairie of the Buffalo Gap National Grassland that stretches all around the Badlands. Next to all the cicadas chirping in the grass, a couple of birds tweeting in the bushes, and some bats flying past, I had a simple but good dinner of water, bread, crackers, and cheese spread, and read a few pages of The House of the Seven Gables. After that, some more reading in the tent, and then lights out before 10; I'd wanted to get up early the next day. Not even 15 minutes later, I heard footsteps. A park ranger fining the hell out of me because I violated park policy? I lay perfectly still, didn't budge an inch, tried to breathe evenly, to calm down my pounding heart. No speaking, no knocking, so nope, wrong. Conclusion: animal. Did not really help against my strongly pounding heart; I did not exactly wanna mess with a bighorn sheep now. Whatever it was, it continued walking around, slowly, now right behind my tent, in the small space between two bushes. It then started picking grass, and later made some noises remotely reminiscent of a sheep's baa, but unlike any sheep or goat I'd heard before (not even like these goats!). Anyway, the eating probably meant the presumed sheep had accepted this big blue thing in her/his dining room. Good for me because after a while, I could not bear lying in this position anymore, I had to roll over. I did, and my new neighbor didn't care. A bit later, s/he lightly kicked against the tent once, but that was the closest we got. I eventually fell asleep with the sheep's occasional soft and melancholy 'baa' in my ears.

My next post will relate the rest of that weekend; I spent the next day and night in the Black Hills, and then returned to another part of the Badlands for the last night.

First Week in Cedar Falls

Seriously, it's about time for a new blog post! So I'll once again resist the urge to finally watch the Game of Thrones episode from last Monday (yes, I'm a bit behind!). Instead, I'll listen to some La Dispute (really good post hardcore reminiscent of At the Drive-In) and try to catch up with last week.

So, what am I doing in Iowa? Through a recommendation of my Editing and Publishing class's teacher Dinty W. Moore, I found an internship at the North American Review. I already told you that, but you might have forgotten. Together with my good Athens friends Sam and Bob, I arrived in Cedar Falls last Wednesday, and the three of us couch surfed that first night. Before going to bed, we went to some bars on Main Street and found this stylish micro brewery that has a thing for bicycles, were invited to a drink and then challenged for some pool and gambling (the latter, we declined) in a cool, more 'townie' bar, and finally had a last beer in the somewhat classy Voodoo Lounge.

The next morning, Sam and Bob dropped me off at another couch surfer's place who'd host me for the next four nights, and then left for Denver, Colorado. Jessica and I had a coffee and talked for an hour or so, and then I had my first day at the NAR. I met some of my colleagues and could already get started reading texts on Submittable, the online submisssions database that the NAR uses. After work, two colleagues took me to a garage sale. Big mistake. I had no intention of buying anything, but then they had this deal where you could take anything you wanted for just $5. Big mistake. Have you heard of Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy? I had only scarcely, and then I read the blurb, and I wanted the entire boxed set. Then I saw even more Asimov books with the eponymous "Foundation" in the title. Turns out there is one novel that precedes the trilogy and three that come after it! And yes, I took all six of them. And no, I will probably not read all of them. I'm almost through the first novel of the original trilogy, it was pretty cool in the beginning but then somehow drags along...And, just as a side note (but a striking one!), there is not a single female character on the first 150 pages or so. Out of 200! Then, two women are briefly introduced (one even gets to speak!), but only for the sole reason to wear---yes, jewelry!!! Aside from that, from what I see in Foundation, I would claim that George Lucas got at least some of its inspiration for the Star Wars universe from Asimov. Even tough, oddly enough for space science fiction, Foundation offers not a single non-human alien...

Anyway, I also got a copy of Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle and Steinbeck's Cannery Row. I think that puts my summer reading...bulk at 26 books. Impossible, but I'll find a way to select. I didn't even buy all of these books myself. At least two were presents, some others I got for free, others were too cheap not to buy. You see, it's not easy!

That night, my colleague's very talented daughters Amelia and Melina were playing a show at the Hub. Great voices and lyrics, their entirely acoustic songs not unlike First Aid Kit, or probably early Tegan and Sara.

Back home, Jessica's black cat, Belle, and I had already became bffs. (It seems like every second American I meet has cats!) From the second night onward, she jumped on my couch/me and then curled up next to me or on my tummy and purred as I fondled and tickled her. Even though she woke me up more than once in the middle of the night by jumping up and down, I enjoyed that quite a bit. 

On Saturday, my colleague Jordan and I sold some of the NAR's latest issues at the Hearst Center for the Arts. James Hearst was a local 'farmer poet,' pretty well known, and friends with Robert Frost. What I read of his poetry is really good. 

Since I had the entire Sunday off, I decided to go out a bit. Cedar Falls is a small town, but it is an American town, so it sprawls. It took me almost an hour to get from Jessica's place all the way North to the Cedar River, and that was only the point where 'nature' starts. Island Park already features a small but pretty dense patch of wood, a kinda marshy area. And I have a thing for marshes; the dead still water, like oil, like a thick black mirror from which the tall and obstinate trees protrude, bearing their bright green foliage that prevents most of the sunlight to reach beneath the treetops. Another two and a half miles to Black Hawk Park into even denser woods and marshes. This did not look at all like the Iowa that pop culture shows us every once in a while! 

On my way back, I found the best reading spot in Iowa (arguably), a beautiful meadow that leads right to a miniature bluff along one of the many small side streams of the Cedar River. On the opposite shore and in the stream, fallen trees from previous floods. And almost nothing to hear but birds. But, alas!, since I am not yet prepared for a life in the woods, I went back into town, passed the historical Ice House and Cedar Falls's tiny first school building, and then met Jordan at Cup of Joe's. We discussed favorite bands and got nostalgic over video games, then picked up Hannah, and drove to the bowling alley where Tanner joined us. Well, I did not lose. Neither did I win, but that's okay. After that, a good Mexican dinner, and back home.

On Monday, I moved to my new apartment and met my roommates. Our house is in really good condition. Maybe that's why it lacks the soul, character, and beauty of my house in Athens. However, after two and a half weeks--good weeks!--on other people's couches, it's good to have my own room again.

For the weekend, I've planned my first road trip that I'll do all by myself. 9 hours out West, then some hiking and camping in southwestern South Dakota's Badlands. Got a nice little tent and some gear, so I'm good to go.

Cedar Falls, IA

I have a new home. Cedar Falls looks like I'll like living here quite a bit. A college town not unlike Athens, OH,-well no, there is probably no college town like Athens, but anyway, somehow comparable to Athens-Cedar Falls has a pretty Main Street with some cool bars and then another street closer to college with some restaurants and cafes. And many places just look very classy and, well, excuse the word, hip. Sidecar Coffee, Voodoo, Cup of Joe, the Single Speed micro brewery. And good music! Never heard Vampire Weekend in an Athens cafe. But I should stop comparing. As a faithful reader, you know how much I loved living in Athens. Cedar Falls is not gonna make me forget about that. I'm just happy I've landed in an apparently cool place again.

Westward, ho!

This morning, Sam, Bob, and I left Athens for the summer. They'll live in Denver, and I'll live in Cedar Falls, Iowa. I got accepted for an editing and publishing internship at the North American Review which is published at the University of Northern Iowa, and I'm pretty excited to get started. Apparently, we're in for some rain along our way out West. About 11 hours to go. Stay tuned.

The End of Spring

Thursday night. In the kitchen, Chris gives Tony a haircut. And I’m sitting in the living room with Tim, both of us staring at our laptops, ignoring the freeze frame of the Red Green Show on TV. I am re-reading my last blog draft, written on Saturday:

This is the end of the spring semester. I don’t even know where to begin, what to say, how to speak. I have to be careful not to drift into whiny complaining about the fact that this part of my life is over. I have had the best time living in Athens and studying at OU. I have met the nicest people here, friends that I am not willing and not ready to let go. This, right here and right now, is the downside of making great once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I should be happy about everything that’s happened to me over the last months, and I really am, but there is a profound sadness overshadowing the gratefulness and happiness right now. Saying goodbye is rarely easy, but it’s especially hard if you have the feeling that you might never see the people who’ve become your friends ever again.

            Today was graduation day at OU. Some of the people I’ve met here have finished their undergrad studies and are about to leave town.

And that’s where that draft stops. For reasons of time, I think. I’m a little less emotional about all of that today. When I wrote that bit on Saturday night, I did not even have to say goodbye to everyone yet. I would see my roommates and some friends again on Sunday. What made Saturday feel so final was the fact that most of my friends here were graduating that day. The ceremony was held at OU’s Convocation Center. Since I’d never been to the Convo before, it was pretty overwhelming. A huge circular structure with more than 13,000 seats, mostly used for basketball games. That day, most of the seats were filled with the students’ relatives. Flags of all (or many?) nationalities hanging from the ceiling. In the center, hundreds of black folding chairs had been placed, and an orchestra was playing. And then, when all the graduates-to-be (I think around 4,000!) marched in in their black gowns and caps, the band played that graduation song you have heard in more than one Hollywood movie. The entire ceremony was pretty touching, it really got much closer to me than I had expected. After all, my friends’ graduation made me realize once more that the spring semester was over now. So we heard speeches, the national anthem, more speeches, and then every single student was called by name. Every single one. 4,000 students. But it was pretty well organized; two people were reading the names alternately, in a quite fluent succession. Mildly impressive.

After those two to three hours, I and Sophia (we had met during the ceremony) searched for Natalie and Geeg and their families, took some photos with them, and then we all walked home, one last time to the house we’d lived in for the semester. We had already moved (most of) our things out that morning, so that now, all that was left was some furniture, some basic kitchen utensils, some boxes. I was already well aware of how much I would miss our house. All the good memories connected to it. So we had one last great feast, and I got to know some more family members of Geeg and Nat. After all of that was over, Nat and I went to Jackson’s house where we hung out on the porch talking to this funny guy, and then I joined Jimmy’s family in the living room for some music, playing the guitar for the first time in many many weeks. Then, off to the bars until the inevitable hour of 2a.m. Not yet the final goodbye.

Sam and I met Geeg, Nat, Kara, Joe, Hannah, and Tom for a farewell brunch at Casa. Had to wait one and a half hours for a table, but there was no hurry on our very last brunch, anyway. Having finished our meals, I had to say and hug goodbye to most of the others. Not cool. However, Tom and I went to Justin’s house, and the three of us walked around one last time, up Mound Street and down, back to Justin’s. Geeg brought Natalie over, and that was about the time when I had to bid farewell to Geeg, Nat, Sophia, and Justin.

I walked around a bit after that, along strangely empty and quiet streets lined with old furniture and trash that former residents had just left in front of their houses. Went to that place high above Athens to enjoy the weather and the view. Didn’t quite succeed in reading. I then went back to Sam’s place which was my home until yesterday when I moved to Tim and Tony’s apartment where I’ll stay until next week when I’ll also leave this town that has become so much of a home to me. So quickly.

Animal House

Thinking

Okay, first of all, you should check out the movie that this post's title is based upon. Animal House is probably the mother of the entire college movie genre; American Pie and so on.

But our house is literally an animal house. Cats, deer, birds, squirrels. Everyone loves it here.

Boxing

Ever since I met her in January, I've intended to dedicate a blog post to Natalie's cat Sumaya. Sumaya is probably the softest thing in the world. A cat that consists of 80% fur and 20% body. Approximately. She's easy going; she's fine with being stroked, being held upside down, being picked up and carried around the house, or with just sitting in a box or a bag, thus entertaining us like nothing else ever could. Everything Sumaya does is cute. And we're pretty sure she's aware of that. She can become a little aggressive when she's hungry.

Checking the Oven Drawer

Every time I'm not sure if Nat has fed her yet or not, she meows to me and walks around my legs and tells me how hungry she is. That might go for about five minutes or so, and then comes the point when she strikes your leg, first with the right, then the left front paw, and then tries to bite through your pants, and then she just looks at you again. Meowing. Luckily, that never happened to me when I wore shorts. She also likes to leave the house. Our house does not have the best doors. Sometimes, a gust of wind is enough to open our front, side, 

or kitchen door. Mostly, Sumie just sits next to it and stares outside. But very often, too, she runs outside if we are not quick enough to close the door. Then she hides under our porch or a car, runs onto the neighbors' premises, or, as just yesterday, she just climbs in through an open basement window. This morning, I didn't even realize she was out until she knocked on our living room's screen door, meowing, begging to be let in. But, aside from all of that, I think the selection of pictures here will convince you most effectively of Sumaya's undeniable greatness.

Then there's the deer gang. At least four of them, but sometimes only individuals show up in our back yard. Eating leaves from the branches, or just hangin' out. I think they're almost considered a plague in some parts of Athens and by some citizens. It's probably true, but they are still pretty beautiful. I grew up in a pretty rural area, but I never lived as close to supposedly wild animals as here in Athens.

We also have at least three feral cats sharing our basement and backyard. There's a hole into the basement (or, one that I know of; there's probably more) that has granted those felines access to our basement since winter. We've heard them a couple of times, and Sumaya is often incredibly excited for no apparent reason, running from the kitchen to the living room, jumping onto the couch, and then back into the kitchen. I think that can only mean she's sensed her colleagues downstairs, and then tries to do something about it. Cat logic. One of those cats has recently spent some time behind our house with the deers. Looks like they were on friendly terms. All enjoying the sun.

See the Squirrel?

The squirrel and the blackbird share an apartment complex in our house's southern outside wall. There's a little porch, and a pretty big hole on the porch roof's underside. That's their front door and their access into the wall. I've seen the squirrel once or twice, and I've heard it move inside the wall almost every other day or so. And Sumaya knows about him, too. She's spent hours sitting before that wall waiting for the squirrel to move, trying to pound the wall so he would come out, or whatever Sumaya has thought might happen if she raps against that wall. The blackbird, I only know it from hearsay. Sophia's seen it fly in there twice. I wonder how the two of them get along.

Yesterday, I discovered what we first thought would be a spider's nest in the undergrowth behind our house (which, THANK GOODNESS!!! it was not) to be a caterpillar or butterfly larvae nest. I've been incredibly fascinated with its intricate structure since day one; it's located right at the intersection of three or four branches for maximum stability, and it's made all out of this fabric that looks like a spider's thread or silk. Fascinating and beautiful as long as it's at a decent distance to my body. Anyway, I've realized it's not a spider's nest when I saw dozens of little black larvae/caterpillars crawling around on its surface. Below this outer surface, I could see another one on which even more larvae/caterpillars were sitting, these ones less active, so they were probably in an earlier stage of their development. I guess. Disgusting, fascinating, compelling. 

Bart

And then, there's Bart!!! I introduced him in the last post. Rosa's parakeet, almost abandoned, but then saved. She brought him over again today and told us that his name is Bart now. We can only assume his sex, though. Blood tests are expensive. Anyway, he was here again today, in his makeshift D.I.Y. habitat, in our backyard with all of us. He still looked pretty insecure and somewhat scared in the beginning, but then started climbing the branches in his box to the top crossbeam, and then pulled his little self up the wall with his little beak, then grabbing the ledge with his little claws, and then jumping and fluttering down onto the grass where  I watched over him, pretty successfully once or twice, but not the third time.

He ran right into a thick bush, and I had to crawl after him through some rough twigs and thorns, and finally got him back into his box. My most heroic deed in Athens so far. For my boy. He seemed happier then than in the beginning, chirping around a bit, even scolding at me every now and then for letting him walk upon my hands instead of back into the bush. Sumaya also had a look at him, but seemed only mildly interested. Probably because he didn't do too much at that moment. Bart's now in another apartment, but Rosa wants to bring him back for a visit on Tuesday.

Catching Up

You may use this blog as an indicator. The less I write the more real work I have to do. That's why I didn't say hi for ten days.

   After Harrison Ford (still a beautiful song you should listen to!) I came home--back from our trip to New York--at around 4a.m. Took another hour to come up with a somewhat thoughtful summation on that David Foster Wallace essay I had to read for this day's Pop/High Culture class. Sleep until 9 or so, then off to the library around 10, get some other readings done, print the summation. Go to class. Then Editing and Publishing, then Literary Theory. From this point onwards, the days were basically filled with class work, especially for my literary magazine, The Transatlanticist. Had to read and reread the submissions, edit them--some barely, some heavily--and format them all in one document which was probably the most annoying part. Reading texts and cooperating with the authors to turn good manuscripts into great essays and stories, that's time-consuming, and it is work, to be sure, but it is fun! I like working close on the text, in the text. All the notes and corrections in Word, Did you really want to say that? Because that's what it sounds like. Maybe rephrase? or This sentence is too long, too convoluted. or simply This doesn't make sense. It is some sort of translation, of refining, of digging for meaning, scrubbing for clarity, polishing for elegance. But the formatting, the layout? Fun if you figure out how to do the things you want to, but the software I had at my disposal, it doesn't allow for too much creativity, at least not on the level that I am familiar with it. And I tried a lot. The cover design was even more strenuous. I am not a graphic designer, and I didn't have one close at hand here, so I manipulated the maps that Julia had created for the front and back covers. Played around with the contrast, brightness, and colors, oh and resizing them, dpi and stuff, because it didn't fit the online cover creator I had to use to create the mag. Then added the title. Once, twice, thrice, 15 times because something was wrong again and again. Anyway, The Transatlanticist's first (probably only, 'cause this is a cruel world) issue has been sent to the printer this Wednesday after at least one night with too little sleep. Supposed to be here on Tuesday. More than just a tad excited, to be honest.

   Easter was great. We invited all of our friends over and had some very very very (I mean very very very) good food. Fruit salad, mixed vegetable salad, mac & cheese, nachos and home made dips, and so on. Made some Radler (3/4 beer, 1/4 sprite; we also introduced the concept in the bars around here) and started a fire after sunset. It was a genuinely good afternoon and night. One of those days you keep looking back on for months afterwards. Also, with a timing unmatched since the day that Jim Morrison met Ray Manzarek, fellow ASL student and BA+ alumnus Richard came to visit us from Detroit exactly on that Sunday. He spent three days in town and we went out a lot with Nat, Geeg, Sophia, Sam, and some others. Sam took the two of us for an early bike ride around Athens on Wednesday morning at 7:30. Not even 5 minutes outside of town, I felt quite a bit in rural Appalachia already. Crooked old shacks, abandoned cabins, rusty trailers. Some beautiful countryside as well, nice views upon Athens, and this dog without a leash that chased and scared us a good deal, but then was really afraid and just stood there. 

   And then my take home final was due for Literary Theory. Explain some concepts by Butler, Cixous, Foucault, Irigaray, Freud, and others. Then three two-page analyses of Drown, My Life in Pink, and What's Cooking?. Very short, not much you can do on two pages. But that's fine. Anyway, very very unfortunately, we did not go into postmodernism. At all. Might have to go back into that on my own. Might have some time in the summer.

   On Wednesday, we gave our final GLC presentations at the Edison Biotech Institute of Ohio University, located at the Ridges. Wasn't too bad; I think all of us did a better job than at the German Center for Research and Innovation in Manhattan, which was already pretty okay. Got very good responses, anyway. So I'm glad we're done with that, and I'm glad it was good. That same evening, GLC dinner. Good pizza at Jacky O's. Got our certificates and, on top of that, our professor (a philosopher and biker) gave me a book titled Harley Davidson and Philosophy: Full Throttle Aristotle. I was really surprised about that, and still am very thankful. Spent some time at the Smiling Skull Saloon afterwards and then went back to Jacky O's to meet the roomies and homies.

 

   Yesterday, I was pretty much lying in the sun all day. Our friend Rosa was visiting, and we saw that those guys across the street were messing around with this little white bird that couldn't really fly. So she went over there and talked to them. Turns out they bought the little parakeet to play with for a couple of hours and then intended to just release it in a bush or something. Yes. I know. Poor guy has clipped wings (apparently, that's what they do so pet birds can't fly away. Horrible), so there's no chance he would have survived. Rosa had asked if she could take it home with her later so they wouldn't just leave it out to die, and they agreed, or didn't really care, for that matter. Found a box and some branches and turned that into a little home for the bird, and brought it over. In the end, I think she couldn't take the bird home for some reason, but she made sure that the guys would keep it in their house for the night, and I don't know where things'll go from there...

   All school work I have left for next week is one exam and one paper, both in Pop/High Culture. So I will try to write more regularly again. Tell you about my upcoming summer internship and other stuff.