Background Noise: my immortal
Last website visited: slate
Mood: ready to roll
Right now i want... :) too much to list. some of barb's cookies would be nice though ;)

ok. so i promised i would talk about my little morning excursion to Stanford saturday. I finally saw it in the daylight, which is helpful, since lighting at night doesn't seem to be the campus's forte. palm drive was very beautiful. the campus was eerie as hell. i don't mean to offend my Stanford friends with what i'm going to say next; or for that matter, what i've said already. i understand many of you spent years there, or even have grown up knowing Stanford as i know Ann Arbor. And i realize that i have only been in what is now 3 buildings on campus, and i have only witnessed it a) at night and b) on a weekend. I have never audited a class there, though i know the caliber of your professors. i am not trying to bash the quality or reputation of the school on an academic level. that being said,

i'm glad i didn't go there for my undergrad degree.

in fact, i'm not sure i would like to ever attend school there. the general vibe i got from the campus was empty, unfriendly, uncomfortable, awkward, and out of place. maybe it's because of the underlying religious feeling the campus evokes through it's architecture. maybe it's the great expanses of land with very few people. who knows. perhaps my judgement is rash, and all i need is someone who "knows stanford" to show me around, point out why i should like it. really, i don't think so. there are things to like, certainly. but not enough.

Now, as a prime example, the Stanford Museum. Where i spent most of my time on campus. A bit of background, for those who might not know me, or this side of me. I'm a museum junkie. I've been going to museums my whole life, and i love it. every city i have spent significant time in, i have visited their museum(s). be it art, natural history, science, or otherwise, i enjoy museums. their design. their layout. their artifacts. the art. especially the art. especially sculpture and oil paintings.

My favorite moments on my European vacation with barb were spent in museums [well, mostly ;) ]. I fell in love at the Rodin museum in Paris. Not with a who, but with an artist and his work. My awe from that time was so great, i feel a reverance to the pictures i took there. I remember walking into that house, deceptively small for the art it holds. I don't have the words to express the sense of... extreame life that radiated from his sculptures. I was especially floored by his hand, the kiss, and this one.... For the record, Barb prefers the Gates of Hell. There is a power to these works, born of their materials, their detail, their size, their majesty, and the simplicity with which they are displayed. It seems the most natural thing in the world to have a set of 7 foot tall hands in the middle of a parlor, by a window overlooking a rose garden. To have two of the most erotically powerful, sensual, passionate, startling effigies to love ever crafted sitting in the dining room, framing a simple harth and mantle. I had the pictures i took there printed, and framed. They are small, anything larger would be too overpowering. and i keep them in my bedroom, on the top shelf of my closet. as beautiful as they are, they seem to me to be too erotic to have out in the living room where any of my guests might see them.

Back to the Stanford Museum. I've heard a lot about it, and it's rodin sculpture garden. when one of my work collegues saw my picture of "the kiss" on my screen saver, she said "oh, we have one of those." :) wow. so off the cuff, so... straight forward. like saying, oh yeah, i have that dvd too. i looked at her funny, and she clarified that the kiss was part of the rodin exhibit at stanford. she was so nonchalant about it, i couldn't believe we were talking about the same sculpture. Turns out, we weren't. The bad copy of "the Kiss" in the Stanford Museum is about 1/4th the size of the original, painted black. It is so small, you can actually tell that the couple isn't, in fact, kissing. The majesty is drained from this sculpture. the passion, the glory, everything that makes it important and beautiful, stripped down, for easy study and consumption. it is sickening. Sadly, this is true of most of Stanford's collection.

That isn't to say that the garden isn't a pleasant place to say, have lunch or read a book. It's pleasant, and unobtrusive. Their copy of the Gates of Hell doesn't shock. it is boring in comparison to the original, which, also sits in a garden. The original, however, is not the focal point of the garden. It startles you, jumps out from behind a few hedges. Scares the living crap out of you, really. I averted my eyes when we saw it. I felt uncomfortable; i took pictures of the flowers surrounding it instead. There were children eating a picnic lunch in front of the Gates at Stanford. And it wasn't disturbing their appetites.

The museum itself is a beautiful building. The lobby is the crown jewel of this museum, with impossibly high ceilings, floors and walls of white marble, and great arches lining the second floor. very beautiful. but bland.

I left.

My trip was a sucess in the fact that i now feel more comfortable with how the roads are set up around there. i was even able to figure out where the Stacks John was talking about was. Go me. I've read too many detective stories.

... i don't feel like writing about this any more. i have work to do.

apparently i'm going home in a few days. doesn't feel like it. i'm not used to planning trips so damn far in advance. i don't like it. i like buying my ticket the day before, packing, and going to the airport. none of this buy the ticket and wait buill shit. i might not be in the mood to fly thursday. i'm certainly not in the mood to go home right now, though, i will be glad to see people. i guess. i'll have to miss dance class. that sucks. we have a game the night before i leave, too. i guess it's a good thing we play on wednesdays instead of thursdays b/c helena is in paris right now and we couldn't afford to have 2 girls not show up.

right. back to work. at least the pounding has finally stopped.