Historical Schmistorical!
Oh why am I so underwhelmed?
Oh why am I so disenthused?
Maybe because 1 day of cleaning and 1 day of 7 machines full of laundry do your head in and kill any emergent original thought in the bud?
I found a radio amongst the debris of my flatmate's room, and spent the afternoon listening to Ö1. Radio is good for you.
So belatedly, I caught up on the latest news on the election and Mr. Obama's triumph (finding it slightly ridiculous how the entire world is behaving like an amorous teenage fangirl towards him - it's sad how extraordinary we find the fact that a halfway reasonable and sensible person gets elected for an important political office ... shouldn't that be the norm?)
Also, I learned something about Ida Pfeiffer, who seems to have been an admirable person. She was a woman from Biedermeier Vienna who travelled the world, and wrote about it. It sounds almost boring written down like this, but it was obviously an immense achievement, considering her time, her sex, her circumstances. She also was friends with Alexander von Humboldt. :)
Zeitgenossen beschrieben Ida Pfeiffer als eine kleine, schmale Person von leicht gebeugter Haltung, mit langsamen, kontrollierten Bewegungen. Sie verfügte über eine robuste Gesundheit und war ungewöhnlich ausdauernd. Sie urteilte nüchtern und fasste, wenn nötig, rasche Entschlüsse. Im persönlichen Umgang war sie so zurückhaltend, dass es schon genauerer Kenntnis bedurfte, um ihre abenteuerlichen Reisen glaubhaft zu finden. Obwohl sie viele Jahre ihres Lebens auf höchst unkonventionelle Art verbrachte, hatte sie über die eigentliche Rolle der Frau in der Gesellschaft absolut konventionelle Ansichten. Auf gelegentliche Gesprächspartner wirkte sie „wie eine tüchtige Hausfrau, die über ihre häuslichen Angelegenheiten nie hinausgekommen war“.
Whatever that means, it sounds strangely appealing. I like it when people do amazing things without making a great fuss about it.
Unrelatedly, I like the band. But it's all so relative, and nothing special is in my life or in my person compared to all you beautiful birds of paradise, who effortlessly know how to think and act and love like you were born simply to be adored.
Carl Spitzweg, The poor poet
Carl Spitzweg, The hypochondriac
Carl Spitzweg, The bookworm
Carl Spitzweg, The butterfly hunter
