Today was rather miserably hot. But to get to school and not be a walking sweat factory, I left the residence extra early so I would be there when it opened at 7:30 a.m. Of course this would be the day that no one showed up to open the place until 8:30 a.m. Oh boy, what fun! Sitting on the school steps wondering when someone might show up. We were instructed that things not being on time is part of the adventure here (of course those who told us that also told us if we were two minutes late for any of the class trips they would leave without us).

So today I basically went to class, sweated, read Our Ancestors by Italo Calvino (struck me as being from the magical realism realm of literature, with a dose of post-modernism), sweated some more, and got my certificate at school! And what a certificate it is... it states that I was enrolled in and attended Temple's Summer in Rome program. I just cannot wait to go out and get a frame for this. Maybe I'll buy my own gold star to put on it. Matt says his diploma for graduating 5th grade was more impressive. Look, if you're going to give me a cookie than at least make it chocolate chip. Apparently they also gave out t-shirts, but somehow I missed it. I'll have to complain about that tomorrow.

The Calvino book was rather interesting. Someone left it in the laundry room here at the residence, and apparently stole it from our school library (as that is where it came from, but it is not checked out). I figured I'd give it a read and then return it. I do remember reading some Calvino during my undergrad literature degree achieving days. I think he pretty well captured the life of a dumb teenage boy who thinks he's in love in this passage (oh no, you came for pictures and now are forced to be exposed to literature... the horror):

That dust was seen by Raimbaud as he ran about on foot looking for her, crying, "Where are you going, oh, where, Bradamante, here I am for you, for you, and you go away!' with a lover's stubborn indignation which means, 'I'm here, girl, loaded with love, how can you not want it, what can a girl want that she doesn't take me, doesn't love me, what can she want more than what I feel I can and ought to give her?' So he rages, incapable of accepting, and at a certain moment love for her is also love for himself, love of himself is love for her and love for what could be them both together and is not.

Yes, teenage boys are that stupid and naive. I assume girls have their own issues, but I won't speculate because I know not to invite that kind of trouble.

- Jay.