Backpacking

Since this was supposed to be travel blog en el principio, here's my latest adventure!
Over mid-semester break I went backpacking in Southern Indiana on the Knobstone Trail, which equals hills, hills, and more hills. We went at the perfect time too: leaves that made a painting in the canopy, gently flowing creeks, chilly but not intolerable weather.
This was my first backpacking trip, and as Aunt Gretchen and mom promised me, I'm now hooked. We primitive camped (only using tarps over our heads as tents) for 4 nights and 5 days. When I returned to Earlham I was afraid of my computer and buildings.
This trip reminded me how much I need to be outside, immersed in nature, to keep grounded. I'm still slowly getting back to using computers 24/7, which sometimes I feel like I'm doing in college. Anyway, here are some pictures of my adventure in the woods, hopefully to be repeated in the near future.

No Headphones Required

I don't really want this to turn into a music blog, but I feel like I should put a plug in for John's album, "No Headphones Required." If you're into trance/electronic music I strongly suggest you buy this album. Check out the video to the third track "Silence."
I would attempt to give a review of the music, but I have no background in trance/electronic music. But from what I'm hearing right now it's phenomenal. Of course I'm a bit biased....
For a full review click here.

Música

¡Música nueva (o viejo)!

Now, for a bit of culture....


First off, Sondre Lerche, a Norwegian singer/song writer that is influenced by 60's pop and Bossa Nova. He's not well known in the States, but he tries his hand at singing in English. The lyrics leaves something to be desired, but the sound is what I'm listening to anyway.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kG9ZhCcaS9I



Next- Feist. Canadian, cutsie, indie rock, and brilliant. She happens to be friends with Peaches, but that had little influence over her music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X28j4baLy-A


And finally, a classic: Edith Piaf. I can't give her an adequate description, so just find out for yourself.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4b8985k-4Q

Soy Borges

"Writing, which would seem to crystallize language, is precisely what alters it. It changes not the words but the spirit, substituting exactitude for expressiveness." ~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau "On the Origin of Language

"Cerré los ojos, los abrí. Entonces vi el Aleph.
Arribo, ahora, al inefable centro de mi relato, empieza aquí, mi desesperación de escritor. Todo lenguaje es un alfabeto de símbolos cuyo ejercicio presupone un pasado que los interlocutores comparten; ¿cómo transmitir a los otros el infinito Aleph, que mi temerosa memoria apenas abarca?" ~ Jorge Luis Borges "El Aleph"

To be a person who strives to express, to communicate, to draw a picture in another's mind of what she is feeling, is to be a writer. To be a person who sits and stares at the page, a page full of black marks, full of meaning, but seeing emptiness, seeing something that sits incomplete, quiet, is to be a writer. Beautiful images clouds her head, stacking up until an explosion of words come out the tips of her fingers. Then something painful hits her; it is the realization that what she is trying to say gets lost between the lines. It's never quite right. How to explain love? How to explain joy? How to explain anger, hate, pity, compassion?
Every once in awhile something happens, and her words are just right, they are exactly what they mean. This is when her muse visits.
After reading "El Aleph" by Borges in Hispanic Short Story and having weeks of Philosophy of Language jammed into my head, my creative explosion took the form of a song. Here is my muse.

"The Muse"
She walks around in a haze,
falls in love for just a few days.
In her heart there's everything to see,
but for the world her mask in complete.

She only visits in your lonesome dreams
leaves some words for you to keep
gives you tastes of perfect clarity,
shows you all that it can be.

"Quiet" she says as she touchs your eyes.
"I'll give you images that'll let you live"
She shows you all the points of the universe
then leaves you with that simple curse.

I closed and opened my eyes
and all I could see was pure life.
The beauty it brought tears to my eyes
and in that moment there were no lies.

"Quiet" she says as she touchs your lips.
"I'll give you words that'll let you live"
She tells you all the points of the universe
then leaves you with that simple curse.

In moments of ecstasy
where everything is exactly what it means
she will be right there with me
translating everything.

"Sing loud" she says as she lifts me up
"Now you see what you can give.
You found your voice in the universe
and are now free from that simple curse."

Graffiti

These painted walls could hold the truth to something.
In an attempt to define everything, I once again find myself with nothing. Lately, instead of the world getting in my way, I get in its way. Analyze, analyze, think, think....live?

Live without questioning? Without that puncuation mark that must follow this sentence to stay grammatically correct?
Rubbish. Question I must, accept I must not. This is the curse that I have been given, one that I am looking for a cure. Crucifixes, silver bullets, garlic, all vague superstitions, objects to distract from the pure reality that things must be fought face to face. Bare. Naked.

Words hold me in, words let me out. This is my graffiti.

How do you fight ignorance, bigotry? Is "fight" even the right word? How do you work within a situation when all you want to do is get out of it, but that route is impossible? Can you take it when you know what it feels like to have everything you thought you "stood for" tested?




I don't know. But I'm finding out.

Musings of a Wayward Traveler

And as you lay there fast asleep
I wrapped my soul inside your arms.
I left it there for you to keep.

I stood in the middle of nothing,
no black, no white,
nothing.

I fell down and cried,
"Why me, why now?
This journey has gone too long."

A voice inside me
yelled in reply
"Just walk out the door."

Grabbing ahold of the shiny doorknob
I pushed my way out,
stood blinking the sun out of my eyes
and turned around to see you.

I strode over as you opened your arms
and then I was whole.

"What a journey." I said as I stared
at the clouds and laid down my head.