Sin palabras.

It pains me to read something like this.

La gente se está matando
La gente se está muriendo
Y yo sigo aquí sin comprender...

I almost forgot

How could I forget to share this good news with y'all? I got a call from my dad a few days ago, and it turns out that my credit card fraud case has been cleared. Yay!

I was ridiculously anal in sending them documentation. I got a letter from the academic registrar saying that I am a student here, enrolled until 2010, and was in residence when the fraud happened. She also gave me the check-in and check-out sheet from the lodge, that shows when I signed into and out of my room for the term, with my signature on it. In addition to that, I sent photocopies of my passport's ID page, the visa page, the entry stamps for the UK and the US, and the stamps from Virgin on the back of my passport. I also sent a copy of my flight itinerary from the term, all showing that I was out of the country when the whole thing happened.

What a relief to know that I don't have to drag a lawyer into this! And thank you, bloggy people, for your advice in the matter.

Have a lovely week!
Kaitlin

In case you care, part deux

There are 47 references to authority/authorize (and similar) in the aforementioned books, and 139 references to writers, storytellers, artists, etc. in the Novelas and the Persiles alone. I'm sure the Quijote will double that number.

I'm guessing this database of references will take up a combined total of about 80 pages.

Edit, 10:30 p.m., 14 April 2007: I was close. 76 pages, about 500 references total. Whew!

Edit, 1:17 a.m., 15 April 2007: Just added another handful of references because I realized I didn't spell "titerero" (puppeteer) properly the first time.

In case you were wondering, here are my miscellaneous terms:

• historiador
• escritor
• traductor
• “el que escribió esta historia”/ “los que escriben novelas” etc.
• coronista
  
• narrador
• bailador/bailarín
• cantante/cantor
• poeta
• artista
• titerero
• músico
• escribano
• pintor

I'm including a range of artist types because I'm interested in how literary/creative authority compares to religious authority, among other things.

In case you care (or: OMG, she's talking about her research!)

The word "author" ("autor") appears in the Novelas Ejemplares, both parts of the Quijote and the Persiles a combined total of 131 times.

That's just direct references to authors. It doesn't include mentions of writers, poets, etc. or phrases such as "coronista desta gran historia."

Tune in tomorrow when I tell you about how many times the word "authority" ("autoridad") appears in these works in some form...

When Irish Eyes are Smiling

I owe y'all a lengthy post about Dublin. Once I collect photos from my friends I will write something up, I promise. But I will say this: I wasn't blown away by Dublin. It wasn't as cosmopolitan as I expected. Don't get me wrong, it was lovely, but it wasn't a particularly memorable city.

Speaking of Dublin, Nels helpfully reminded us that it is poetry month, and I thought I would post an Irish poem here. When I was in the seventh grade, we had a "cultural day" in our English class, where people read stories or gave presentations about their heritage. I read some Irish poems, and one in particular still sticks in my mind today: "The Stolen Child" by W.B. Yeats. When I went to the Dublin Writers' Museum, the memory of this poem came back to me. Here it is:

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats.
There we've hid our fairy vats
Full of berries,
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by farthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands, and mingling glances,
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap,
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away! O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes,
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout,
And whispering in their ears;
We give them evil dreams,
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Of dew on the young streams.
Come! O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping then
you can understand.

Away with us, he's going,
The solemn-eyed;
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hill-side.
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast;
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
he can understand.

Happy Poetry Month! I do hope to read more favorite poems around the blogosphere.