Snow

I am watching snow fall silently upon the streets of Istanbul. The Silence of Snow… Thanks for giving that meaning, Pamuk. My typing is the only thing that can be heard apart from the occasional Turkish murmuring. You see, the snow and heavy rain has cut the power in this little café. The refrigerator, the kahve grinder, the oven – it’s all off. Powerless. Silent. These snowflakes are the biggest I’ve ever seen. They fall hard and fast, but their impact is totally unseen among the much more present rain.

The dance of this storm is quite like listening to a symphony. It will increase in speed and size; snowing hard and quick. Then, suddenly, it will slow to almost a strolling pace. Just a slight reminder of the bitter cold above.

The Bosporus is totally indistinguishable from the clouds and fog. And Asia is completely invisible. It is over there. On the other side of that bridge in the distance, that now looks like it ends midway over the water. Only a few miles from the other continent, and yet it feels as far away as if I were back in North America.

Without making a sound, the snow has separated continents, tamed the busyness of the city, and muzzled the bustling noises of 18 million as they stand and watch.

How can one not love the snow?

Let It Snow...

Weather.

Sometimes you need to be reminded that you that you are too busy. You are moving too fast. Your mind is in the left lane, and you miss the cities on the right.

Is it our society that pushes us to be too busy for our own good? Is it our constant need to pressure ourselves? Do we work better under pressure? Or are we scared to slow down and face ourselves?

Sometimes you have to hit a brick wall at 75 kilometers an hour. Sometimes you have to pop the airbag, unbuckle your seatbelt, bash open the broken door, stand on your wobbly and numb legs, rub your neck, observe the carnage, and then sigh. That big, unavoidable, relieving sigh.

Weather. Who would have guessed that weather would run you into a wall and make you slow down?

Firenze is the Birthplace of the Renaissance After All...

Over a week. Sheesh... I'm ashamed. Here's what's beautiful though: I've been writing a ton. Let's recap the past 8 days a little bit shall we?

Basically, for the first week, Florence sucked. Reasons: 1)It rained, a ton. And if you know me, you know that I love rain. However, I love snow more. I wanted snow. Bad. I got rain. A ton of rain. 2) Our residence is pretty cool, but it's also pretty cool. I mean seriously drafty. So, I was wet and cold, all the time. Yuck. 3) I just wanted to sleep, but my bed was really firm, and my pillow gave me wicked bad neck aches. 4) My bed was also a buffet. For bed bugs. I got eaten alive. I was symmetrical for a while. This also made sleeping not-so-good, as I would wake up due to extreme itchiness, and then couldn't go back to sleep because of visions of bed bugs danced in my head.

Ok, so combine all that into a week, and you get suck. Blech. It was no good. BUT I'm done whining. Which is why I called this entry renaissance, or rebirth, to the lay man.

Yesterday was the brutal day. I woke up at 5 in the morning, and couldn't get back to sleep. Shower was cold. Breakfast wasn't for two and a half hours. yikes. So, I got on the internet and talked with people from home. Ah, home. Those conversations were sparks, they got a bit of a fire going. I combined those sparks with a bit of oxygen in the form of Battle Studies (I got it early and it's incredible). Now, I had a fire. A serious creative fire. You know how artists always seem to be moody, brooding, angry, dirty, and overall just un-content?

I think that they do it on purpose.

It makes for GOOD inspiration.

I went on a writing tear. I think I doubled the amount of space taken up in my journal. Poems, lyrics, quips, creative stories, observations, you name it. It was sweet. Never been in a writing inferno before.

The problem is, that this writing tear completely changed my mood. I'm SO happy right now. I'm on a creative high. I mean, I wrote a poem an hour before our café night last night, and then read it cause I liked it enough (I also read the poem I wrote about Auschwitz [Apparently there's been some confusion, but I did write that poem down there] and the lyrics to the song Wheel.)

I also have a new bed. Thanks to my sympathetic professors, who came and helped me put my old bed into make-shift quarantine, got me a new one, and gave me Benadryl. Basically, I woke up to a totally new city. I went on a walk today, totally alone, and loved it.

I'm now currently trying to emulate my writing inferno, but it's not as easy as it was.

I'm enjoying the trouble though.

I like poetry for the first time in my life. I think I'm gonna keep writing it...

Here's my second attempt:

Spin

When does a cycle become a spiral?

After all, they're both a type of circle.

What if life is just an orbit?

What if this is all just another cog in the Karma machine?

Is it just a looped rhythm-beat?

Isn't getting dirty just another form of coming clean?

How do you stop a wave's ebbs and flows,

When even a ring's got it's highs and lows?

Do we always remember the sound,

of a boomerang coming back around?

Maybe we're not supposed to change our life-ring,

Maybe I'm thinking just a bit clearer,

Thinking a circle's just a wave on a mirror.

Grapevine Fires...

When the wind picked up the fire spread

And the grapevines seemed left for dead

And the Northern sky looked like the end of days

The end of days

I woke up this morning, well, this noon, and I played some Death Cab while showering. I don't sing in my shower, I listen. It's much less humiliating....you should try it. While in the shower I looked outside through our frsoted glass. It was just a blank page of white. Immediately, I was transported to the Winter. It felt like there was a foot of snow covering everything. It was great, and strange at the same moment. I actually felt like it was mid-Winter and there was snow covering everything. Then I realized how much I miss the snow. It's been too long since I've witnessed and experienced a real snowstorm. I really hope we get some snow somewhere mid-continent next semester. I could use a day where the Northern sky looks like the end of days...

The wake-up call to a rented room

Sounded like an alarm of impending doom

To warn us it's only a matter of time

Before we all burn

Before we all burn

Before we all burn

Before we all burn

Then I got lost in the song. My thoughts went from cold and snow to hot and fire. Fire. It's been awhile since I thought about it all. Usually when people ask or talk about it, I give the typical 'I can't really even describe it' response. But this time I actually got back into the emotion. How useless I felt in the gym; how mad I was at people believing they were heroes for coming into the gym and taking only their friends away, while people who needed to leave slept on a cold, hard floor; how proud I was of my guys for responding perfectly; how I was just fine with not having my stuff in the morning. Everything came flooding back. Wow...sometimes you can forget some emotions. I hadn't thought about anything from that fire for a while. Sometimes it might be good to remember just how you felt during crazy times. Maybe revisiting trauma is good every once and a while...

We bought some wine and some paper cups

Near your daughters school when we picked her up

And drove to a cemetery on a hill

On a hill

And we watched the plumes paint the sky gray

But she laughed and danced through the field of graves

And there I knew it would be alright

That everything would be alright

Would be alright

Would be alright

Would be alright

And the news reports on the radio

Said it was getting worse

As the ocean air fanned the flames

But I couldn't think

Of anywhere I would have rather been

To watch it all burn away

To burn away

And then I thought about the second fire. The second evacuation. The one that just wasn't going to happen. And then did. I remember just rejecting it. Thinking, 'I'm just not going to let this one happen'. Sitting on the deck of E, playing every song in my iTunes library with the word "Fire" in the title. And laughing. As we watched a massive plume of smoke engulf the sky on the other side of Santa Barbara. I wasn't being sadistic, far from it. I was just unwilling to let something like the fire happen again, so I was going to reject that it was actually happening. Then, it happened again. And I spent around a week as a refugee. Moving every night, unable to go home (It really wasn't that bad, I mean I was driving around in my car, but still). Then finding a beautiful piece of peace when our staff met. I know it was late, I know it was bad timing, and I know it was the day before graduation. But it was amazing. I really, honestly couldn't think of anywhere I would have rather been to watch it all burn away...

And the firemen worked in double shifts

With prayers for rain on their lips

And they knew it was only a matter of time