The end of the Humanities?

As if being an English Lit/French double major didn't have enough of a you'll-never-get-a-job-with-that-degree stigma, it seems the current economic state has made it even worse. According to this article in the NY Times, the humanities are suffering a slow and painful death in the face of economic doom. It seems that education for the sake of education is becoming less and less a viable option in an economy that requires specific and technical job skills in order to avoid the unemployment lines.

I LOVED my humanities education, and don't regret for a second studying what I did - but I can't help but wonder if I would have chosen a different path had I started college this year, in the midst of this massive recession.

Sometimes. Always. Never. (With thanks to Britta)

I sometimes...

- wonder if I'll actually achieve the things I've set out to achieve in my life.
- wonder what life would have been like if I had pursued dance from an early age.
- think about getting my MA in English

I always...

- am overwhelmed by the beauty of where I live. always. without fail.
- have about three life plans rotating in mind, each of which sounds perfectly wonderful, and perfectly plausible on some level.
- think about traveling - where, when and how.

I never...
- say no to chocolate. it's a serious addiction.
- manage to keep my room organized for more than a few days at a time.
- keep in touch with as many people as frequently as I would like to.

I like this poem

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond by E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Warm and Fuzzy's on the Bus

I went to a potluck the other night for the organization I interned at this fall, which involved a bus ride through downtown into South Seattle. I don't make it any farther south than Seneca very often, so it was nice to get out into some new neighborhoods. I was especially drawn to the vibrancy and life that seemed to abound in the International and Central Districts. Lots of cultural stimulation - art galleries, street art, fantastic little hole-in-the-wall restaurants everywhere, museums. It's on my list of places to explore.

But back to the bus ride. I was seated in the back, in the awkward row of seats that face each other, so you either end up staring uncomfortably at the people across from you, or end up twisting oddly in your seat to make it so that you're facing forward. I was doing the latter. A stop after I got on an older women got on and sat straight across from me and stayed on until we were in the heart of downtown. I noticed her pull out a pad of paper about halfway through the ride, but didn't think anything of it. I figured she was jotting down a to-do list, or absentmindedly doodling or something. I would have hardly noticed when she got off, save for the fact that as she left she handed me this:



I was caught completely off-guard, and she was gone before I could even register what had happened. My face reddened, and I was simultaneously touched, flattered, and embarassed. I've always thought of my profile as being a little weird. Not ugly, per se, but not attractive. The fact that a stranger had such a different impression of me was humbling. It's amazing how much impact such a simple gesture can have!

Thanks, kind woman on the bus. You made my night. Next time I find myself with pen and paper in hand, in the company of strangers, I'm going to make and effort to pay-it-forward. :)

Coffee Shop Cool

I'm at Herkimer Coffee, a coffee shop about 10 minutes from my house, working on cover letters and resume stuff. I just wanted to note that every person I can see who is on a computer is either on a Mac or a Sony Vaio (me included). It feels funny (but somehow, oh-so-cool) to be part of this artsy, organic-coffee-drinking, fancy-computer-using crowd, our keystrokes drowned out by the indie music filtering through the shop at perfect volume. Then again, this is Seattle. What did I expect?

Also of note - I'm MUCH more productive here (despite breaks for blog posting) than chez moi.

Oh, and one more thing. It's sunny here (ok, partly cloudy - it counts), and WARM! I can feel spring coming.