Things Part Due (Italian for Two): The Roads Oft Traveled

No Excuse. Sheer lack of time management and situational awareness (and other such Good Business catchphrases). Months go by and my handful of readers stumbling haplessly upon this blog get nothing from my fool brain. Many a thing has happened. Many a place visited. Many a night not slept (either working or being an insomniac). There may be, and in fact likely are, many more interesting posts I could make, but all things in good time. For the time being, revisiting the thing theme is my desire. Largely due I am convinced to the muchness of moving about I have done of late, I am inspired by the various paths and vias out there that get the World from a to b (and beyond!). Be they manmade, or just a path in the woods.

I've always found the road less traveled requires an intense soundtrack. And fig newtons. And probably some patience wouldn't go amiss, either. Dodgy trucks on dodgy roads doing dodgy things at dodgy speeds...

 Because really, one never knows, does one? When a truck full of highly explody flammable fluid will have a whoopsie and cause a trifle bit of bother.

On the other hand, the road most traveled just requires patience and a good goal - unless that goal is just the same office one inhabits every day, in which case the final ingredient is an active imagination. And jerky. Any drive can become a scene from one's next novel or the next great psychological thriller, if one just lets one's mind wander. Even the weather knows when the end goal is a less than ideal place to be. Seems to say "nooooo... don't gooooo...only pain and darkness lie this way...turn baaaack..."

Whichever type of travelled road one finds oneself on...is the journey just as good as the destination? People are always saying it is. I am always saying it depends (about more than just this...am a trifle waffly about things). Sometimes, for example, the journey is all firey and burnt on both sides, and smells rather like soggy leather.

But sometimes out of the smelly burnt dark, come signs of life. Friendly signs of life, at that. Serving as both a momentary companion and a part of the beautiful view along the trip, moments like this make the journey much more tolerable, and downright lovely at that.

I was recently the victim of a hit and run. And no, it was not in my current residentiary city (Naples, Italy). In a crosswalk on 6th in San Diego - with the little glowy man telling me it was my turn - some prat in a large SUV swung round for a left hand turn and clipped me with his dirty great bumper. So aghast was I that this had just occurred, I did not have the presence of mind to get the vehicle tag. Too, there was but one bystander/witness, and he didn't have the angle. Thus, just a rose for my trouble did I receive from said bystander. It didn't make my leg not hurt, but it did make my heart swell a smidge and renewed a bit of my faith in humanity (which the guy who hit me had severely dinged).

Right. Sorry. Blog about roads, not flowers. But still. How do these things happen? Any rate, back to it. Say your road becomes less, shall we say, supportive. Whatever then? This simply means the journey becomes more precarious, but there is certainly no need to fuss in excess. Watch your step and enjoy the ride. You might even learn something, or better yet, enjoy the trip all the more for it.

Just to be a bit cheeky (do contain your surprise), I believe that the water is just as valid a "road" as anything else. Mayhaps being of the Naval Profession has influenced this perspective. Regardless, I like a bit of sailing. Or swimming. Or floating. How great is it to just cruise and not be restricted to the same, em, restrictions as those landlubbers in their wheeled transport.

But really, what if there were no roads? Easy there, Doc, I don't mean like that - though I'd certainly take the hovercar were it to be invented (I'm talking to you, sciencey types...). These folk don't play the car game, and it seems they have a good thing going. Sure, there are boaty issues to think of, and the whole city sinking might give one pause, but those are easily dealt with, and only persons with unlimited life spans need worry about Venice totally falling into the drink.

When it comes right down to it, we are all of us a'travlin' on along many a road, route, via, or way (deep, I know). Things don't always go according to plan, but usually the view is pretty great along the way, and the right mode of transport and the right companion make all the difference.

Besides, any day now, my TARDIS may come, and one must always be of a mind to go.

Things Part One: Innie or Outie?

Warning! Excessive use of capitalisation ahead! Proceed with Caution. 

What is it about things? Things are everywhere. They do everything. And nothing. They make up everything. But not nothing. Hold on…. does that make…right. Good. Where was I? Yes - Things. One can apply Relevance (or Irrelevance) to things, but whether manmade or not they are Simply There. Simply. Maybe time has taken its toll; all things wear down after a bit. But still we give them Purpose. Makes them family, though much more in the modern sense of it than the "we all look alike and have the same name" way of Yore. Sounds a bit odd, but go with it. I've had a bit of time off from thinking about this blog, so the theme reflects that break (no references to mental breaks will be tolerated, thanks very much). 

Right. Thing Families. Fences. Walls. Houses. Churches. All are designed for two simple purposes. Keep People (possessing any number of legs) In, and Keep (other) People Out. Yes, yes, I'm leaving out Castles, but what are Castles if not walls, churches, houses, and the odd Great Hall and Armoury? These days there may be rather fewer castles being built, but fences, houses, walls, and churches are rampant. Moral and other subjective evaluation aside, the keeping of In and Out, are really just practical matters. A fence divides one bit of land from another. But the very nature of the dividing makes it a force for the keeping of In and Out. I build a fence to keep my cows or horses or whathaveyou In and to keep you and your cows or horses or whathaveyou Out.

Whether an imposing fence of many feet in height, or a simple low-lying indicator of separation, the sentiment is the same. This is Mine; that is Yours (or Somebody Else's, but either way, Not Mine).

Walls are really the same. They are just more butch versions of fences. As humans evolved, so did their idea of playing nice with others. This meant that mere fences did not quite effectively get the point across.

Especially when I decide that what is Yours ought be Mine; I'm hardly going to wait politely at the fence and ask nicely. Not when I have armies and battering rams and catapults and such. OK. That train got away from me a bit. Moving On. 

In effective segue, walls are somewhat important to the construction of buildings/ And we all know (I hope) that both houses and churches are types of buildings. Shall I talk houses and churches together? If you believe of such things, churches are Houses of Lords (ooh… thought provoking, there, Parliament of England…what exactly are we saying about ourselves? The royal we, mind), and as such may ought be compared with the Dwellings of Lowly Beings.

We'll just see where this typefest takes me. So… Houses. Warm, cosy, homey, housey, secure, locked, fenced, guarded, protected… Houses.

Keeps family values In, and those who wish to disrupt said values Out. Until the age of OK To Venture Out, houses even keep family members themselves In. And of course members of other families (who wish to date members of first family) Out. Is she getting more cynical in her old age? Likely. But she'll elect to call it Practical. I love my house. And my parents' house. And all the varied sundry houses in which I grew up. They were as much a part of my formation into the Rhiannon of Today as were anything else. And much as they say owners and pets come to resemble each other, so too does a choice of house or apartment or flat or in my case villa) reflect the personality and life stage of the Chooser.

Big or small, with land or without, our houses have been just right for the family we were at the time. Similarly, as I've grown and - arguably - changed, I've chosen a house here, a crap apartment there, a lovely condo elsewhere. Sometimes I need someone, so I have a roomie. Other times, I need my own space in which to rattle about with or without clothes, and keep tidy or messy as I see fit. These times call for Living Alone. Again, the train has jumped the tracks… really cannot tie churches in to all that nonsense. So we Move On. Because I want to, and because I am typing this on a plane, and we will be landing soon. 

What was I going to say about churches? House of Lords (or Ladies, if that is your thing), and keepers of things In and Out. So I've not been to church with any kind of regularity since I was too young to have any say. However, I remember the occasional feeling of being Locked In during the service, and woe to the child who Forgot To Go before the big doors closed and the singing began. Yes there were treats afterwards as a reward (or so it seemed) for behaving for the endless hours (or so it seemed) of Church the event in Church the place. But somehow being locked in a big room with lots of Funny Old People deserved more reward than a Dixie cup of permastache-inducing punch and a triangle of cinnamon raisin toast or a minimuffin. But yes, the place is meant for keeping Out as well. Some religions are a bit more welcoming to others, but others treat the average service as a Rite of Secrets Known Only to the Chosen. God (or whoever) forbid anyone else dared challenge the closed doors. This kind of sentiment harkens back to Yore, when the Other Religions were nothing but blasphemous sorcerers out to muddle things up and the only way to deal with them was by rather any and violent method.

Thus no one wonders at the tetchiness of Religious Matters even today. We are far less likely to burn people at the stake for believing something else, but boy will we get in a state, and some will even kill. All for the sake of keeping one religion In and another religion Out.

Got a bit heavy there as I fly "home" to Italy and my job and the infernal cats that have taken up residence in my garden and my energy and my pocketbook. And a bit more bloggy than photo, but already did one that was more photo than bloggy, so Balance has been returned to the Force. Nonetheless, the keeping of In and Out is far more prevalent than we notice most of the time. And my purpose was not to get overly deep on the matter, but it does make for an interesting intellectual exercise. Besides, it let me title this blog the way I did. So there. Cue gratuitous in-flight photo of Alps at Sunset...

Forest for the trees? Up close and personal?

Devil's in the details. Right? Devil has the right idea, in that case. What are (or aren't) details, if not the stitches in the canvas, the tiles on the pool floor, the peanuts in the packing box of LIFE (the experience, not the cereal)? I always liked those Magic Eye posters so popular in the 90s. Partly because going crosseyed was fun, and partly because the discovery of the bigger picture in all those splotches was even funner. More fun still was that a certain grade school nemesis who shall remain nameless was rubbish at the things (small victories). Any rate, since then, I have loved getting up close to things (oh yeah, just in the interests of full disclosure, I'm a bit nearsighted...well make that totally blind). Some say I miss the bigger picture for my love of details, but I'll take that over only seeing the broad view and losing its component parts.

I've gone on about flowers and their ilk, but really, they look pretty cool when you get right up in there-

Growing up in Farm Country, I have seen a field or two in my day. And right across the world, those fields look pretty much the same up close. And are just as important whether they are Idaho Corn, Italian Grapes, or even African Khat. It tends to depend on the light, the colours, and the angles, but really, it all just looks fantastic.

Don't want to wax too philosophical, but much like some great high quality wood or the coolest person you know, that LIFE box I mentioned before really is a very richly textured thing (something it shares with the eponymous breakfast food). And while that texture can been generally seen from any vantage point, I find that the deeper slash closer one goes slash gets, the more one can appreciate the details. Grass is not just green(s).

Trees are not just brown(s).

Water is not just blue(s) (whatever country, island, rock, or bit of reef it might frame). I mean, for crying out loud... they don't even make Crayolas in these colours!

Eyes are more than just ocular sense organs. Nothing is quite as lovely as seeing one's own reflection in the eyes of a horse. I highly recommend it if you ever get the chance. They just see so very much. More than they ever let on. I suppose that's for the best.




Finally, on the lighter side of the issue, when they get to take center stage and the whole photo, little things get rather bigger... And come to life! Check out this little visitor looking like a dinosaur (those little toenails made one helluva racket on my window...)

 For the love of Mike! Attack of the Giant Neapolitan Lozenge-Shaped Bugs!!! (he's about the size of the end of my thumb, but check out all the kit he's lugging about on those wee spindly legs)

Doesn't matter how cutesy you try to make him... Vader is still the Darthiest... (yeah this one is gratuitous...you can turn off the Nerd Alert klaxons...)

Life in Black and White, or Way to Class Things Up!

Disclaimer: There are many quotes in the blog that follows. If you have no patience for the words of others... why are you reading some strange girl's blog? See what I did there? The cheeky irony?

Moving on. There is a thought out there, shared by many, that life is more than black and white. I realise that this is a simplification of an attempt to point out the complexities of life or whatever the given philosophical situation may be. I am choosing to look at it in a completely silly way, inspired by the following:
"If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'" - John Wayne

My point from here on out (be it a good one or not) is that things look clearer, cooler, and downright classier in black and white. As a lifelong waffler, I am well aware that life is not a simple thing; making decisions one way or another is hard. There are always, or at least mostly, many differing points of view, interpretations, and stories, and these usually overlap quite a good deal. But really, I find that looking at something (anything, I suppose) in black and white (okay, really its greyscale, but just go with it) unmuddies the waters. Too much colour in any situation may please the eyes, but it also distracts. Take the following flowers for example. And yes, I have used a couple of these in a previous blog.

 Does it matter if you can see the different shades of yellow in the flowers above?

 Or pinky orange in these?

 Do the details of the delicate middle petals need to be a particular colour?

So what if God didn't invent a grey lilly. Clearly an oversight on his part, if you ask me (which I realise no one did).

"We only exist in terms of... conflict, in the zone where black and white clash" - Louis Aragon
Now there's a weighty thought for you. And speaking of conflict, check out what an ominous Rwandan volcano looks like when the freakishly green surroundings are dampened. Really makes the Big White Mansion there toward the middle bottom look like a toy.

 And do you need to see the iconic red uniforms of these chaps to recognise who they are? Their uniformity is even more impressive when you see how it stands out against the rest of a B&W photo (sorry got lazy there for a sec).

 And the similarly but differently iconic city scape of San Francisco is more urban against the texture of the water and sky.

"It's about you. If you win, it's you; if you lose, it's you. Black and white. Nowhere to hide" - Greg Rusedski
I like the cut of this man's jib. Or maybe just the way he thinks. Either way, it is a brilliant way of encapsulating what responsibility we all have for our own path, our own future, and how we move about on and toward these things. Even if we chose to do so like this crazy fellow.

 I prefer to do it like like this (though this photo is by me, not of me). See how little chance of painful death and / or maiming there is here?

Mister black bird here has some rough terrain, but he doesn't expect someone to come and comb the beach to smooth it out for him. if he's not so much feeling the lumpy bits, he'll just fly away over them, lodging not a single complaint.

 This one is just neat. And really, talk about a rough path. Win or lose on this track, it is all up to you.

"In the beginning it was all black and white" - Maureen O'Hara
Thanks very much, Ms. O'Hara. She may be talking about television and films, but so, too life started out black and white. Or really just black, I suppose. But even after someone switched on the Universe Lamp, there were no people mucking about giving things names and labels. Thus, things were simple (getting metaphorical about black and white, but bear with me). I like simple. Simple lines.

 Simple angles and shapes.

 Simple cycles of living and moving on.

 Simple textures.

"There's something strange and wonderful about black and white imagery" - Stefan Kanfer
Here I am in total agreement. Strange and wonderful are great ways to describe black and white images. They make the eyes think a tiny bit harder sometimes, in order to pick out things from backgrounds.

 They make a scene more universal, temporally speaking. The lines of time and eras and ages become blurry, but that is kind of neat.

 An otherwise strange juxtaposition seems to just make sense when seen through these lenses. I mean, when one is thinking "Where shall I park the wagon?" the logical place is not usually on a big rock in the garden. But all darks and lights, and you have something bordering on artistic.

 And sometimes, it just makes things look neater. No other word but neater. Kind of like the font on the Cola Cooler.

 "Bah! I won't believe it until I see it in black and white" - Samuel Goldwyn
Now, I'm not entirely sure if Mr. G of MGM is waxing poetic about films, or if he means it in the sense of contractual obligations. Whatever he meant when he said it, though, I find that the inanimate looks more alive in black and white. Statues of Romanish ladies seem less cold.

 Little garden gnome looks simultaneously longing and contemplative.

 Even Mister Bobblehead can get into the excitement of a baseball game (when someone is kind enough to give him a seat with a view).

"Human nature is not black and white but black and grey" - Graham Greene
Enough said, Mr. Greene. Though I do like a little bit of white in things, even with the accompanying difficulties of keeping it clean.
To close, the following things are already black and white, and already awesome. So the piccies look even better with the rest of the colours stripped. Bob Dog = already a badass. Check out all the grey hairs (they mean he is old and crotchety but wise and loving).

 Poor lonely Zebra living in Djiboutian cheetah refuge = awesome every day of his badass life.

 And yes, even a Cyberman. Look how cute.....