Malta

...So despite my love of European history, I really don't know anything about the country of Malta, other than it was once controlled by the British and is hardcore Catholic. To fix this oversight, I sat down and read a short article on traveling to the country.

History Things I Learned:

Carthage and Rome duked it out for Malta. Obviously, the Romans won in the end.

St. Paul brought the christian faith there, like he seemingly did everywhere else in the Mediterraean.

During the Middle Ages, the island was controlled by Muslims. Again, not a surprise as other parts of the Mediterraean was controlled by Muslims, most famously southern Spain, but also southern France and parts of coastal Italy.

Napoleon, a native of next door Corsica, conquered the island and stole pretty much anything he could, which is what he did elsewhere, like in Egypt.

Lord Byron traveled there. I wonder if that trip was related to his infamous Greek trip that ended so badly. Also, he complained about the streets, which totally sounds like him, because he's such a whiner.

I could probably conclude here that Malta is basically like its sister European countries in terms of history, but this might be simplistic.

Amazing Side Notes:

They have a Popeye theme park. I don't really know what to make of that, but if I ever go there, that might be a fun place to go, though I suspect I would go just to say that once I went to a Popeye theme park.

Maltese is a blend of Italian and Arabic. Sounds like my sort of language.

Tea with Mark

Went out for tea with Mark.  He had finished a class in the early afternoon, and I figured that he would have another one in the late afternoon or early evening, but he didn't, so we talked about about four and a half hours.  There are so few people in my life I can talk to for such long periods of time, and Mark is definitely one of them. 
As usual, Mark and I spent a ton of time talking about poetry.  He and some other mutual friends are all right now into Ann Carson, and Mark showed me one of her books.  I had heard of her before, but I had never actually seen any of her poetry.  And I could see why he was showing it to me.  There was something very prosy about it, but also something inherently intellectual and academic.  They were tight little pieces.  He had borrowed the book from a friend, and we both admired her handwriting, which decorated the margins. 
We also talked about book design.  There's this one cover for a poetry book that we both thing is miserably bad.  I told him my idea for an alternative cover, one that did a better job of displaying the title poem and looked prettier. 
"Well, do you ever think about what you'd want your poetry books to look like?" he asked. 
Oh, of course.  I fantasize about it all the time.  I don't think I'm silly enough to believe I'll ever publish a book of poetry, but I think about it. 
"I usually think of the art for the book as being highly related to the content.  So, I'm working on some science-related poems, and I'd like the book to be decorated with old school science drawings, the kind you see in old textbooks." 
Thinking of it, I'd really like to see some of Mark's poetry.  It's been a while since I looked at anything of his, though, the more I think about what I saw, the more impressed I am by it. 
We also reminisced about classes we took.  I confessed that Emily was sort of turned off by the way he use to talk, which maybe I shouldn't have told him.  I followed it up with "But I defended you because you had just changed your major and we're probably still finding your feet," which was how I felt at the time.  Plus, I honestly felt like Emily was being a tad persnickety.  I love Emily, but this was one of the few times I disagreed with her.  Mark wasn't that hard to understand.  
I might have also admitted my momentary annoyance with Mark.  When we first met, I didn't really have any thoughts on him either way, because I didn't know him.  Then he started always sitting with me in class, and because I had lots of friends in this class I found myself wishing he didn't.  But after a week or two I realized I really liked him and that he was my friend.
This this weird tendency around here for things to be super intense super quickly.  Natalie once described this happening to her and Mike.  They met and BAM!  They were best friends.  This was what happened to Mark.  We spent very little time between acquaintance and mutual adoration. 
It was mostly quiet in the tea house, but this punk guy sat down near us for a while, while I probably talked poor Mark's ear off.  
Mark told me a little about his upcoming trip to Germany.  He told me that he had wanted to go to London, but because of the price of hotels, he decided not to.  Instead, he's going to live in a tiny town near the French border.  What exactly he's doing academically, I'm not sure.  He apparently speaks very good German, so I'm hoping that in addition to the usual fun travel stuff (getting to know a new place, meeting new people, speaking the local language) maybe he'll be studying German literature.  There's a lot of important work that was done in both German romanticism and expressionism. 
While we were sitting there, Justin's roommate, came in and said hi.  He recognized me because I had met him recently.
"Are you two dating?" he asked. 
It seems like Mark and I have been getting that one a lot lately.  Mark said no. 
"We're more like work partners," I said, thinking about how frequently we worked on various projects together.  An idea occurred to me.  "We're more like partners in crime," I said.  Justin's roommate sort of chuckled at us for saying that. 
Eventually, I had to cut our chat to an end because I was meeting Gary for sushi down the street.  When Mark had originally asked me for tea, I thought that I would have plenty of time in between tea and sushi.  I was going to go lock myself in a study room and try to write.  But clearly, Mark and I were having so much fun, I almost lost track of time. 
Gary wasn't going to let me though.  About ten minutes before my sushi date, he texted me that he was going to be two minutes late.  That's right: two minutes.  I found this weirdly funny, because I can't think of anyone who texts to say two minutes.  I don't even know if it's necessary to text if it's five, because it seems like everyone I know runs on a minimum five minute late schedule of some kind or another. 
Mark thought this was funny too. 
Three minutes later, Gary texted again to tell me he was going to be on time, and Mark and I both found this funny. 
"He's like that.  One day you'll have to meet him," I said.  I had already told him tons about Jimmy. 

Making an Effort to Understand

I've been reading this book about a man who decides to live in a foreign country.  At one point in the novel, his step-daughter gives him a hard time for not speaking the local language. As I was reading this book, I found myself wondering why he wasn't making an effort at it.  I would want to make an effort to learn some of the language, even though I am miserable at other languages; one could even argue I'm miserable at my own native tongue. The narrator was there for years, was there to understand; why did he not make an effort? He never explains in the book, (or at least he hasn't explained yet, and I'm about two-thirds of the way in) but certain characters give him a hard time over it.
I guess I could interpret this to mean that the reason he never fully grasps the country and the reason he is never fully accepted is because of the language barrier?

Signs and Wonders

I was really surprised by how much I enjoyed the graduation ceremony today. I figured it would be boring and I would be annoyed and reminded of all the things I didn't like about MSU. Nope, it was the most enjoyable ceremony I've ever been to, barring maybe my honors fraternity initiation.
I love the PhD outfits that people wear. There's something about them that makes me think of wizards and Nostradamus. Since I'm a medievalist, I know this is not as off as everyone else might assume, but I find myself wanting to inquire of everyone I meet what everything means. I myself know that this cord and that stole and these pins all have specific meanings, and I know what mine mean, but I am curious as to others.
The woman they had come to speak was really awesome. At twenty-two, she had started her own company. (!) She then made it big through designing golf clothes for women, which she implied were demeaning.
As a feminist, I approve of a woman working for herself and doing something that huge. There aren't a lot of women CEOs out there, though sadly, they tend to make significantly less money than male CEOs. I was thinking that maybe one of the things that might possibly account for this disparity was that female CEOs were more egalitarian in how their companies funds were distributed, perhaps paying their workers more or investing more back into the company.
I have thought frequently about starting my own company. My family has saved money for when I marry, but I'm not planning on marriage since I disapprove of the so many aspects of the institution. I think I still deserve this money (since my sister gets the same amount for the wedding she will almost inevitably have), and I was thinking that starting a company might be the right idea. I've been quietly playing around with a few ideas.
It was really nice to see some people. I ran into Ben, who I took Young Adult Lit with. We spoke a little about the future (what everyone seems to be talking about these days) and a mutual friend. I also got tons of pictures with some friends from a program I was in a few years back, and a few people I've had classes with. I ran into one of my professors, and I thought maybe he hated me these days, but he was nicer to me than I've ever seen him. He said I made the department look good and that I had been an asset. I don't think he'll ever realize how much those words meant to me.
Actually, the thing I found most fascinating was the signers they had.
I'm not sure that signers is even the right term, but they are the people who interpret the ceremony using sign language. I find these people and their words fascinating. Paul knows some sign language, and I guess I should interrogate him more on this subject, but I like watching people sign, even though I'm not hard of hearing. (Ask my Mom, and she'll tell you I am.) There's something almost dance-like it. I was sitting maybe ten feet away from the signers, and I watched them more than some of the speakers. The blond was particularly great because she had such great expressions on her face for all of it. (Is that a sign of advanced signing? Or just a personal touch?)
As I was contemplating this, I realized that what I should be doing is writing a creative nonfiction piece on this. (How many people have read a piece, especially a creative piece, on sign language?) I was thinking I could title the piece "Signs and Wonders." :)