Today I sat on the lawn behind Carpenter library, looking at the grass searching for “intruders” - other species of plants that was not grass. Perhaps because I didn’t have the knowledge of a biologist, the only two different species I can found on the land dominated by grass were clover and a kind of vine I cannot name of.

I learned from “ecological imaging 313” group that though some plant look very alike, they taste different, they smell different and they could be poisonous and nonpoisonous. Should I bow down to smell the grass if any of them has a different scent? Maybe I should, but I didn’t.

Do I want to find something different among the grass. I am not sure. The green is intended to grow nothing but grass. But what if all green grows nothing but grass? Would it be too simple, too plain, too dull? Yet, I don’t want to see chaos on the green. I don’t expect to see tomatoes, squashes and roses crowded together. That is too complex, too messy, too confusing.

Bryn Mawr going co-ed? To me, that would be just like transferring a peaceful grass field to an extravagant garden. Eveything that was good about a grass field will be lost. I do not want that.

I was warmed by the golden trees and mild sunlight. Sitting under a huge tree, I looked up. I could not see the sky thanks to the layers and layers of twigs and leaves. I did the same thing when the tree was still lively green, however, I felt opressed by the huge crown above me because the green shedded a darkness on me. The golden color, in contrast, reflected the sunshine. I was delighted by the scene. I felt that the crown isolated me from the world physically, but I was still free. A leaf slowly swirled and fell down on the ground. It was serene and peaceful. But I could not forget the fact that this was a sign of death. And I thought of - "If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

Recap on Geological tour: We started at Pem Arch and walked all the way down the hill. The objective was to follow the course that water drains on our campus to its lowest point, Mill Creek, which is behind Batten House. On the way there, students from the E-Sem pointed out certain kinds of local rocks that were used for buildings or other purposes (Wissahickon Schist for Radnor and Denbigh, Baltimore Nice for Merion) - I was really impressed with how much our groupmates knew about this. They showed us maps of floodplains – how creek-beds and the surrounding areas are formed/changed by regular flooding. So when we got to Mill Creek, the floodplain was more observable/noticeable – we were looking for ways that water had affected the area, and we talked about creeks’ natural winding processes which cause some areas in the floodplain to be higher and others to be lower. I hadn’t put much thought into the importance of water and drainage systems when considering geological formations – but this walk changed my perspective.

I loved reading Eva's Man and really enjoyed trying to figure out the character, Eva. However, as I read, I found myself more amused, perhaps this is not the best word, with her story than feeling bad for her. I know pity was not the intention of the author, but I do think I should have felt something  for Eva. As I read the disturbing encounters Eva had with the men in the book, I couldn't help but sympathize with the guys, whether it was the nasty little boy with the dirty popsicle stick or the disturbed old man in the hallway. What were the stories of the males? What made them act this way? Who or what hurt them in the past that led them to act out their personal abuse?

I know in our class discussion we focused part of the conversation on Eva being the victim and, while that is true, I see all characters involved as victims in the sense that they all are apart of a cycle of abuse that goes on in cultures, communities, etc. Lets be real, I find it hard to believe that a young boy wakes up and goes, "I am going to fuck this girl with a popsicle stick today." Therefore, it is important to recognize that although Eva's Man is a great book, whole stories are not captured and, perhaps, can't be captured.

http://celebs.icanhascheezburger.com/2012/04/02/funny-celebrity-pictures-the-hunger-games-propaganda-psas/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ROFLrazzi+%28Lol+Celebrity+Pictures+-+ROFLrazzi%29

Rosemarie Garland Thomson explores how staring can be a generative experience.

        She explained to us why we feel inclined to stare. Although there is a symbolic order to sight—our mothers teach us as children not to stare, and we are aware of how much eye contact is too much eye contact -- we stare when we are incredibly curious about something new/novel.  Our eyes linger or get stuck because we are desperate to make sense of a thing. We are looking for clues and explanations about why this sight – this person, does not conform to or appear the way we understand that people should. Thus, it’s a natural desire resulting from interest/desire to know.

A man (suspicious male on campus!) approached me today as I walked toward my site. He asked me a few questions about the college (undergrad pop, graduates, etc) and ended his brief interrogation by asking if there was any "talk about going co-ed" for the undergraduate college. I replied with an emphatic no, not only because I feel personally that that would be a step backward for the school, but that I believe there would be strong opposition from current students and alumni. Who in the college would suggest such a change? Why did this man think it was relavant? Who was this guy, anyway? If BMC did go coed, how would that change the learning environment or the campus? I think, first of all, the the actual phisical campus would be dirtier in someways, but it would also be more lively, especially on the weekends. I dont think it would hurt to actually see people out at BM on Friday or Saturday nights, it's actually a very sleepy place during those times. The deserted feeling is not a pleasant one. What kinds of men would be attracted to Bryn Mawr? Would it just be another liberal arts school? Personally I think there is not enough room around Philadelphia for another coed liberal arts institution. Just one of the many reasons BM should remain all-female, even if that does exclude possibly interesting minds from living and learning here.

I find the Mill Creek excursion or the prospect of walking along a river the most appealing. In my 2nd Web Paper, I proposed picking up the litter along Rhoads Pond, and Prof Dalke suggested possibly fitting that activity into our walk along Mill Creek, if that is what we end up choosing. As for the walk along a river, I think that would be a useful trip; we could treat it like a Thoreauvian Walk and amble and let things happen along the way. Part of the class might be structured, maybe we could have some activities, but I think kind of letting the experience happen along the way might have its merits too.

How can nature be so cruel? How can it make the leaves wither and die then fall from the sky? The wind knocks them from the trees; sends them flying far from home. The leaves change, they grow from green to red ana orange to brown. Then to be mowed into millions of shreds, the ground now speckled with the remains of leaves. The trees are bare and broken once the wind sweeps away their babies. They stand lonley side by side naked. As if thrown out to die in the cold without a jacket. Only the roots keep them sound, keep them grounded from flying away into the open abyss of nature. With spring comes rebirth. The living and growing of life instead of death. There is always a rebirth, a new life to look forward to.

It was cold behind the English House this morning. I could feel it mostly on the tips of my body. The leaves on the trees and the ones on the ground were not as colorful as they were last time. It was not as hard to take it all in. Everything seemed a bit more dull. The leaves were not falling as quickly as they were last time, probably because there were not as many that needed to fall. I sat on the little wooden stool this time instead of on the ground. As I looked out over the yard I considered whether or not it was a wild place. Wild like a human mother who embraces her inner mother bear, and who is not afraid to rise to anger, or settle into intense love. I decided that it wasn’t. Because I think if the back yard of the English House had a choice it would not grow that way it’s growing now. It wouldn’t be so neat. Now it’s  tame yard, similar to a woman who has been taught that it’s not feminine to show aggression. But for the yard, I think that’s okay.