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Renaissance Woman

I used to sit under the cherry blossoms outside Harriman Hall with a cup of tea (Earl Grey), or coffee before I gave that up. I used to sit there, feeling special with my moleskine and camel lights, ducking from view when my professor passed by. And as I was awed by the pale pink and white petals, floating delicately as though I were an anime character, every spring, without fail, I’d write about the season as a renaissance.

Lately I’ve been wondering what that word means, or more accurately, what that period signified. I want to be a renaissance woman. I want to move back to a point when we were all philosophers . And when all philosophers were mathematicians and all mathematicians were lawyers. Where I could be a painter and an engineer  all at once.

Where people went on adventures. Travel alone didn’t exist. Anyone was capable of anything and everyone did everything.

It all sounds so wonderful. As though the entire world was colourful and bright, filled with wonder and invention.

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” – Robert A. Heinlein

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