Geometry.

Apparently, for the GREs, I will have to re-learn geometry (among other things). I was never much of a fan of geometry. Algebra, yes. Calculus, yes. But not geometry. Maybe it was too concrete for me. Or maybe it wasn't concrete enough. The problems we were given always had some sort of real-life situation in them. A triangle just couldn't be a triangle; it was the triangle made between a flag pole and the ground. The thing is, who cares about a flag pole? I didn't see the point of it until I started thinking about the applications of geometry in archaeology. When the flag pole becomes a post erected by people in Neolithic times - that's a problem worth solving.

In any case, whether it's because of the GREs or not, I've been enjoying geometric things lately, and thought I'd share some of them here.


[Paul Klee]


[Jenny Gordy in Mociun]


[Dress by Beattie]


[Bibliodyssey]


[MANU bracelet]


[Spinthread]


[Louis Reith]

Mateo.

Our new cat Mateo has huge eyes, a kitteny voice, and comes complete with corgi-abusing action. He sleeps all afternoon in order to be completely wired and pesty during the night. He makes cooing bird noises when he's surprised and squeals and whines like a newborn puppy when you scratch his head.


He's also insane. Imagine a toddler with all of the physical capabilities of an adult, plus sharp teeth and claws, and you have some idea of what he is like. He has to be watched so he doesn't get into trouble.




He gets into trouble anyway.


He used to be scared of the dog; now he hunts him.


You know you're in trouble when each of your pets can be equated with a character on "Oz." (Whether the trouble lies in the fact that your animals are nuts or in the fact that you spend too much time thinking about "Oz" is up for debate.) I'd say Teto is most like Tobias Beecher, on the whole more neurotic and haunted than crazy, but occasionally epically psychotic; Dog is like Agamemnon Busmalis, complete with the penchant for digging, and Mateo is ... Miguel Alvarez, who is probably the most disturbed, but also most sympathetic, of all the prisoners.

Liberty of London.

I adore these Liberty of London fabrics from Purl Soho.

Gingham.

I've been seeing gingham everywhere lately, and I kind of want it. Unfortunately, I've discovered that my local fabric store carries only novelty fabrics from the 1970s. I'm going to try my luck in the city next.

From J. Crew:



From Toast:



From Wiksten-Made by Jenny Gordy:



From Make Something by Karyn:

I Love You, Phillip Morris.

Living in England has made me appreciate the United States much more. That's not to say I don't like England. If I weren't biased by the fact that I was born and grew up in the U.S., I would probably like both countries equally. As it is, I like the U.S. a little bit better. Heading back yesterday, I couldn't help romanticize my country little bit. All of its flaws seemed to fade into the background.

That is, of course, until the flight, when I watched the movie "I Love You, Phillip Morris." Watching that made it extremely difficult to romanticize the U.S. I was bluntly reminded of the fact that I was flying back to a country that wouldn't allow this sweet, funny, and touching movie to be released in theaters because it was "too obscene."


Too obscene. Think about that for a minute. Before you start to wonder what about "I Love You, Phillip Morris" could be too obscene, think about all the things that are not too obscene for American theaters. The "Saw" movies. "Kill Bill." Movies with war. Movies with rape. Movies with men who turn into giant prawns.

I'm not saying that any of those movies shouldn't be shown - far from it. What I am saying is that, given the choice, I would much rather my hypothetical child see Jim Carrey humping some guy than see someone's head getting blown off in a shower of blood. Of course, neither is appropriate for a young child to watch. But while the sex may be inappropriate, at least it's not wrong.

I mean, imagine the conversations. In the first scenario (sex), you have to tell your child that he saw something that happens only between grown-ups. That is not a big deal, because children already know that there are certain things that only grown-ups are allowed to do. You also may have to explain homosexuality and sex. Well, those are conversations you will be having with your child anyway. Contrary to what anti-gay activists would have you think, children are not scared by things that they don't understand. If they were, they would be scared all the time, because children don't understand a lot of things.


In the second scenario, you have to explain to your kid why someone would blow someone else's head off. Can anyone really explain that? You also have to deal with the fear that seeing someone's head get blown off will inevitably instill in a child. Movies with graphic violence can cause nightmares in adults. Seeing Jim Carey and Ewan MacGregor get it on may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I'd just laugh at an adult who said it gave him nightmares.

Now let me tell you about the "graphic sex" in "I Love You, Phillip Morris." It's not giving anything away to tell you that it's tame. It's beyond tame. It's mild. There are only two sex scenes. Only one of them involves nudity; neither of them shows any genitalia. In fact, the only genitalia in the movie appears in the form of a dick-shaped cloud that follows the main character from the beginning to the end like some sort of strange phallic guardian angel.

The people who have prevented "I Love You, Phillip Morris" from being released in the U.S. don't object to the fact that it contains "graphic sex." They object to the fact that it contains gay sex. That, my friends, is bigotry at its most pure.


That bigotry has kept a movie from being released in the U.S. is, in itself, an outrage. But add to that the fact that "I Love You, Phillip Morris," is not just a movie - it's a great movie - and it's both an outrage and a shame. It's a damn shame. I think most of my friends would love this movie. Furthermore, the relationship at its center - between the characters played by Carrey and MacGregor - might do a lot to encourage better understanding of gay people as, you know, people.

A lot of bigotry in this country stems from an inability to see gay men and women as regular people who have the same feelings as everyone else. Anti-gay movements work to de-individualize gay people into a faceless mass of perversion. Portrayals of gay people in TV and movies, when handled well, can counter that perception. "I Love You, Phillip Morris" contains a positive portrayal of gay people. Which is not to say that the gay characters are perfect; they are not, and that's precisely the point. Instead they are multidimensional, flawed, and relatable - all of the traits that make good movie characters, regardless of sexuality.

So yeah. It's a damn good movie. And a damn shame.

Today.

I'm heading back to the United States. I will miss the Radcam and the wood pigeons.

Tomorrow and tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'm heading back to the States. Until then, I'm simply hanging around, picking through some of my photographs - like these I took when I was trying out different sweaters and such with my new dress. I hope that by the end of the summer I'll be able to make some dresses myself.

St. Michael's.

After Butser, we - including my archaeology tutor, her husband, and my friend Mikhael - went to a pub nearby. Up the hill from the pub was St. Michael's church. My tutor thought the hill had probably been a Bronze or Iron Age settlement. The church itself was much younger - but still old. It had been redone in Victorian times, much to my tutor's husband's chagrin. And, like the church in Reading, it was constructed of flint.




Wandering through the graveyard, we noticed a large number of names from the Clark-Jervoise family. It became clear that they had been a wealthy and prominent family that had died out around the time of the first World War. The last names were of men who had died young during the early 20th century.




This little shrine was built in Victorian times but was likely fashioned after a Medieval model. Only half of the plaques were filled in.



Inside the church was more evidence of the Clark-Jervoise family. There were plaques and engravings dedicated to the men of the family, including one that named a man as the line's "last male heir." My tutor said that many old and wealthy families died out around this time, as World War I wiped out the men of the youngest generation. Although it's hard to feel remorse for the fact that the continuity of "old wealth" was disrupted, the great loss of life is unquestionably tragic.

Here are some details of the church itself:






It was very sad, but not because the Clark-Jervoise name itself died out. The whole place seemed like it was waiting for the family members to return who never would. Their relatives didn't just lose their "male heirs," but their husbands, fathers, and sons.