Catullus

I love the poetry of Catullus. He was a Roman poet who lived in the first century BC. Perhaps I feel a special affinity for him because I have read a good book in which he was a character (this is also true of Petronius). The book was called The Ides of March, a novel written by Thornton Wilder, who is generally known as a playwright. In the book, as apparently in real life, Catullus was one of those tortured artist types, and unfortunately he was quite rich and therefore had nothing to distract him from his emotional torment. As a result, he died very young. He reminds me, in a way, of those crazy Romantic poets like Byron (whom I also love). But Catullus, like Byron, was not stupid, and was very gifted at writing very witty and intelligent verse. His shorter epigrams are especially good; they are brief and to the point, yet very moving, like this one in which he speaks to an unfaithful lover named Lesbia:

Carmina 75

Huc est mens deducta tua mea, Lesbia, culpa
atque ita se officio perdidit ipsa suo,
ut iam nec bene velle queat tibi, si optima fias,
nec desistere amare, omnia si facias.

My mind has been brought to this place, Lesbia, because of your sin,
and it destroys itself in this way through its duty,
so that it cannot wish you well, even if you were to become the best [of women],
nor can it cease to desire you, no matter what you do. [my translation]

Not very uplifting, perhaps, but quite wonderful nonetheless.

In other news, I have officially decided that I will be studying even more of this Roman stuff in the years to come. I am going to pursue a master's degree in Classics. My brother gets ill at the very thought of more school after you graduate, but I'm excited about it. The only drawback is that I have to take 2 years of Greek (blech! I thought I was through with that ridiculous language!). I think I'll manage though.

Also, I am very excited about an opportunity I have to study abroad in Italy this summer. I have already gotten permission to take a leave of absence from my job. I will post more on this later, when I actually get some details solidified.

I'm out...

Davy, Davy Crockett!

History is one of those things, I have noticed, that people tend to love or hate. Some people (like, uh, me) are fascinated by it, others absolutely hate it because of all those darn names and dates and *gasp* essays. I think I've met maybe one person who was just kind of neutral about it. Maybe I'm just surrounded by passionate people, but history seems to be like liver...you know, love it or hate it.

I love it. I'm sure this is no surprise to anyone, since I spend a good deal of my time thinking about ancient history and languages. But I like modern history too (by modern I mean A.D.). I am taking two history classes this semester...so I am warning you all in advance, these next few months are likely to see many posts containing random historical and anthropological facts and mysteries.

This post is inspired by my Texas History class. I like it a lot...I had heard before the semester started that my professor was a Yankee, so I wasn't expecting much, but when I got to class the first day I realized very quickly that this man cannot be anything but a native Texan. Yay for that. (My friend had confused him with someone else.) He spends a lot of time making fun of New Mexican food and Oklahoma...along with presenting very entertaining lectures on the actual curriculum. Anyway, one of the books we are reading is called Sleuthing the Alamo: Davy Crockett's Last Stand and Other Mysteries of the Texas Revolution. I enjoy the book, and I just got to the part about Davy Crockett.




Basically, the "mystery" of Davy Crockett's last stand centers around the diary written by a Mexican soldier named de la Pena. Most sources (though not eyewitnesses) who were Texans state flatly that Davy Crockett was killed in the fighting at the Alamo. De la Pena, however, records in his diary that seven Texans surrendered, including Crockett, and a Mexican officer placed them under his personal protection. However, de la Pena says that when Santa Anna found out, he was disgusted with his officer and ordered the prisoners shot on the spot. De la Pena used this event, among many others he witnessed, to try to show how Santa Anna was tarnishing Mexican honor throughout the Texas Revolution. He hated his leader almost as much as the Texans did.

So the question is, do we believe de la Pena? Some people do, others don't. Some people have even tried to claim that the document is a forgery, but it definitely is genuine (for reasons that are long and complicated, we know this pretty definitely), so the only question is whether or not de la Pena was telling the truth.

So here's my question: do you think Davy Crockett died in the fighting like pretty much everyone else, or can you believe that he might have surrendered? And...how much does it matter? If he did surrender, does that invalidate him as a Texas hero?

Personally, I think it likely that de la Pena was telling the truth (after all, before he decided to try to expose Santa Anna he was just writing it as part of his memoirs, and wouldn't have had much motivation for making stuff up), and I am also of the opinion that a surrender would not have been unheroic on the part of Crockett. If the place was already overrun with Mexican troops, the battle decided, his death wouldn't have helped the Texas cause or anyone else. Why not surrender, especially with a Mexican officer asking you to as he promises to protect you? Seems like the smart way to go to me.

But a lot of people have very strong feelings about Crockett's death (as indeed we all have strong feelings about the Revolution). I'm interested to hear what y'all think.

First Day of School

Today has to have been the easiest first day I've ever had. Granted, I have homework (which I haven't done yet, as a matter of fact), but it's been great. My day off is now Wednesday, so today I had my one class and that was it. I was able to have dinner with Alisha and sit and talk for hours (we have fun doing that), and I even organized my closet and assembled some furniture this afternoon. (Sounds random, but it was just something I've been needing to do forever.)

In other news, my Ancient Civ professor is blind. He's a very capable teacher, though, and I think his class will be great. His seeing eye dog is very cute. If I ever go blind, I hope I will be as capable as he is, and I hope they'll get me a great dog.

But I pretty much hope I never go blind. From what I hear, it's hard to get obscure books in Braille. Considering my taste, I'd be a very unhappy blind person.

And now I've had a little too much caffeine a little too late, so now I'm gonna be up all night. Oh well.

Here We Go...

All right, folks. It's time to buckle our seatbelts and get ready, because life is about to start flying in a million little pieces. Semesters are so hectic! I've really enjoyed the last few days, as everyone has come back into town: my friends, my brother, my boyfriend, my parents. It's been fun, spending time with people I've known forever and getting to know people I barely knew before. If only college life could exist minus the actual college part. Haha. But I'm excited about my classes too.

So here's to school...and church...and bible study...and work...and college baseball season...and life, somewhere squished in among everything else.

:)

Writer's Block

I love to write. This is why my blog entries sometimes turn into books. In fact, I was reading a friend's blog today, and she describes the way I think perfectly: "I see things in words in my head. Descriptions, words, phrases, and the rest." It's true. When I see an object that is brown, I think to myself that it is b-r-o-w-n. When people talk to me I see the words in my head, scrolling across in Times New Roman, white letters on black background. Seriously. Evidently that's strange, but it's the way my head works. So writing is absolutely natural to me...even more so than talking.

But I'm not very good at writing stories, mostly because I never really have any stories to tell. My own life, while I love it, is really rather boring and not very dramatic. And since a writer must write what she knows, I'm hardly qualified to write anything that isn't boring.

Nonetheless, I do try my hand at writing occasionally. Right now I'm working on a story tentatively called "The Piano Lesson" (writing what I know, as you can see). The beginning just flowed out of my mind and onto the page so naturally, but now I'm at a standstill. I can think of a good beginning (already have) and a good ending, but no middle to connect the two. Bummer.

But I'm very interested in the fact that my main character is a young boy. It just seemed right, in the part that just started flowing, but it is also strange because I've never been a young boy. I read one time, in some weird psychology book, that everyone has an alter-ego of sorts that is the opposite sex from them. I suppose that's where Philip Pullman gets the daemons in the His Dark Materials trilogy (every person has an alter ego, usually in the form of an animal, of the opposite sex that has a separate body but can't go very far from him), although I could be wrong about that. And it's true that a lot of the lame stories that start in my head and never get written have boy characters, but I'm not sure I'd say I have a male alter ego. I think I just like stories about boys because I know all about what it's like to be a girl. Boring. But now that I'm in the middle of this story, I am wondering if I am at all qualified to write from my boy character's point of view.

Oh well, it's not getting published. It might appear on here if I ever finish it though...

But I'm going to go hang out with Robin tonight and let time bring some ideas (hopefully)...

Random Stuff...

Christmas break is almost over. It's been too short, but rather lonely, so I guess I'm ready for what the next semester will bring me. I went to buy my books today...an activity which always makes me excited, in a nerdy sort of way, just before my semesterly heart attack over how many books I have and how much they cost (this year, 10 books for 4 classes). The part of me that loves studying and wants to go to Harvard for grad school and reads history books for fun...yeah, the nerdy part, gets really really excited in the bookstore. Of course, there's another side of me that just wants to spend time with people and keep a reasonably clean house, and that part cringes at the idea of having to read all those books in the span of four months. But anyway, mission accomplished. I am particularly intrigued by the books in my Texas History course. One of them is called Pigskin Pulpit: A Social History of Texas High School Football Coaches. Kind of random, huh? I like football though, maybe it'll be interesting.

In other news, I must admit with a certain amount of shame that I'm becoming addicted to a TV show. Worse, it's a reality show. I watched "Dancing with the Stars" tonight, and despite the fact that it's a complete waste of my time, I can feel the addiction coming on. I just love ballroom dancing, so even though some of these "stars" are really bad at it, I'm hooked. I'm already planning on watching the results show tomorrow to see who gets voted off first...oh dear. :)

Quote of the Day:
"I think [Charlotte Church] sounds like the soundtrack to a Teletubby-infested bad dream." --Bro