Logically, I accept the choice. Emotionally, I rebel. It’s been a disappointing and emotionally volatile day anyway, so I can really be expected to take the John Edwards addition stoically, can I? Later I’ll celebrate the wisdom and the necessity and the money; for now, I just want to wallow in the sadness that still sometimes attends big decisions made for political instead of ideological reasons (what? Is that a tiny hole in my cynical shield that you see? plug it! Someone patch that up quickly, before a few seeds of hate sneak in for a possibly slightly conservative Southern senator with decent hair and a winning smile and a serious bank account left over from the primaries).
Other than that, Florence is fine. Hot. I’m completely frustrated by my class this month, and it’s been spreading into a general dislike of the program that’s threatening to turn the remaining 17 days into a bit of a negative experience. Still, I’m conscious that this is happening, so I can fight against it. I think.
Friday night I walked through the streets of Florence with four people from school, drinking wine straight from the bottle, on the way to a Piazza to see Woody Allen play the clarinet. Woody never showed, but we found our way to bar shortly thereafter and had a pretty pleasant evening. Saturday I bummed around town and through a museum (the Palazzo Pitti’s Galleria (note that mix of Italian and English)) and a dried up garden (The Boboli Gardens, hard hit by last summer’s heat wave), then checked in on the computer and found my way home for a tasty chicken dinner. Sunday we went to the beach to “celebrate” fourth of July. Though I’ve been to the ocean before, this was the first time I’ve actually taken a swim in it. I also got a bit of a sunburn, having not adequately covered one shoulderblade. Other than that, a good time was had by all. We managed to snag beach chairs and an umbrella without paying (apparently the padrone della spiagga didn’t see us walk on — happy day for us), and ate a little picnic that our host mother packed for us, so I basically took a trip to the beach at the cost of $15 euro for train tickets. I started and plowed through half of Middlesex by Jeffrey Euginides (might be spelling that name wrong). It’s been good so far but hasn’t gripped me the way that The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay did.
I have made some little friends, in spite of my habitual anti-socialness… or perhaps because of it. The trick this time has been not so much acting like you don’t care what anyone else thinks but actually not caring. This has endeared me to the group of trendy younger girls, two of whom I live with, and by association the guys that follow them around. Also, I’ve made friends with all of my roommates now – the old two, who I hang out with most; the new one, who hangs out with the old two; and the other new one, who doesn’t like any of the others (and isn’t liked by them anway). I’m like All-Purpose Friend here.