So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Ethnicity. that of my father and his father before him
Location Cherry Hills Vil, CO
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The Link To Zanzibar's Past
This is my page in the beloved art community that my sister got me into:
Extra points for people who know what Samarinda is.
The Phases of the Moon Module
The Tree and the Telephone Pole
I Do Not Know Their Names
Today I am Young
A Night Poem
Siren of the Sea
If I Were a Dragon
To the Dreamers Leave the Sky
The Honor of the Oyster
Return From San Diego
A Late Summer's Night
Of Dragons and Men
The Edge of the World
The Snake's Terror
Metaphysics and the Middaymoon
Of Adventures in Foreign Lands
The Rogue Wave: The Unedited Version
Adventures in the PRC
Voyage of Discovery
Drinking the Blood of Goats
Ticket for a Phantom Bus
Os peixes nadam o mar
Three Villages Far Away
The River Weser
Children I Should Have Kidnapped, Part I
Let's Get You Out of Those Clothes
If Underwear Could Speak
Croc Hunter/Combat Wombat
Only My Favorite Baseball Player EVER
Aw, Larry Walker, how I loved thee.
M: Science and Exploration
T: Cook a nice dinner
Th: Parties, movies, dinners
F: Picnics, the Louvre
S: Read books, go for walks, PARKOUR
Su: Philosophy, Religion
The Reading List
This list starts Summer 2006
A Crocodile on the Sandbank
Tales of the Alhambra (in progress)
Dark Lord of Derkholm
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
The Lost Years of Merlin
Harry Potter a l'ecole des sorciers (in progress)
Atlas Shrugged (in progress)
A Long Way Gone (story of a boy soldier in Sierra Leone- met the author! w00t!)
The Eye of the World: Book One of the Wheel of Time
From Magma to Tephra (in progress)
Lady Chatterley's Lover
Harry Potter 7
The No. 1 Lady's Detective Agency
Introduction to Planetary Volcanism
A Child Called "It"
Is Multi-Culturalism Bad for Women?
Americans in Southeast Asia: Roots of Commitment (in progress)
What's So Great About Christianity?
Aeolian Dust and Dust Deposits
The City of Ember
The People of Sparks
When I was in Cuba, I was a German Shepard
The Golden Compass
Clan of the Cave Bear
The 9/11 Commission Report (2nd time through, graphic novel format this time, ip)
The Incredible Shrinking Man
The Elves of Cintra
The Gypsy Morph
Animorphs #23: The Pretender
Animorphs #25: The Extreme
Animorphs #26: The Attack
A Journey to the Center of the Earth
A Great and Terrible Beauty
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
To Sir, With Love
Alice in Wonderland
Through the Looking Glass
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
The Hunger Games
Shadows and Strongholds
The Jungle Book
Beatrice and Virgil
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
No One Ever Told Us We Were Defeated
The Name of the Wind
Tao Te Ching
What Paul Meant
Lao Tzu and Taoism
Sand and Sandstones
Lost Christianites: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew
The Science of God
Great Contemporaries, by Winston Churchill
City of Bones
Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne
Stranger in a Strange Land
The Old Man and the Sea
Flowers for Algernon
Au Bonheur des Ogres
The Road to Serfdom
De La Terre ŕ la Lune (ip)
In the Light of What We Know
Devil in the White City
The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August
How to Be a Good Wife
A Mote in God's Eye
want to read: Last Hunger Games Book, Honeybee Democracy, The Bell Jar
Thursday. 5.10.07 5:45 pm
Alone With the Sunset
Wednesday. 5.9.07 8:18 pm
Everyone was still at work, frittering over the same silly shades of grey, stretching photos beyond recognition, staring at computer screens. They were drinking the new types of brew my advisor had set on the table. Perhaps it was no accident that he had brought them in at a quarter to five, as a sly inducement that would keep his salaried workers a little past the hour. I did not partake- how could I? The world outside the doors of that building was calling me, beseeching me, "Come." I didn't bother to gather my things, I took what was necessary and left. I walked home and fetched my car. I went to the public library and got a library card. I checked out a book-- "The Uglies" by Scott Westerfeld. I heard about it on one of the nutanger's blogs. It takes place in a different sort of world, but its lessons resound poignantly in this one.
I drove to the park, you know, the one just off Cushing Street, where Roger Williams, founder of Rhode Island, looks in majestic statue format across his city of Providence. Words carved into the frame for the statue say, "HERE REPOSES DUST FROM THE GRAVE OF ROGER WILLIAMS". A strange inscription. It reminds me of some poem or something that I read where this fellow makes a woman out of dirt and then falls in love with her and marries her. Unfortunately she dries out and crumbles away. He holds a funeral for her with guests and a priest and everything, but when the priest gets to the "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" part, someone in the crowd can't help but snicker. This makes the man very angry. I don't really remember what happens after that.
I sat against a tree and read half my book. In the glowing late afternoon, the city looked like one of those pretend cities like they have in children's picture books, where the suburbs don't exist... there's just the countryside and one black two-lane road that goes over several hills until it reaches the City, where all of the buildings bow out a bit at the top as if the city can't all fit on the plot of land it was given. The only thing that makes this city real are its little imperfections- the eastern tower of the Westin that isn't quite finished yet, a thin and awkward crane bending over it, frozen until the start of another work day.
There is a boy in a red shirt who is lying in the grass.
I look over periodically and twice he is looking back. I am always impressed by solitary people who bring nothing to do, and then sit in a public place. It takes a certain strength of being to sit alone and be completely idle in a busy world where everyone is expected to have tasks and associations. It is a well known fact, for example, that a solitary person sitting in a public place, should he have no paper to read, must be constantly consulting his watch, even if he isnâ€™t waiting for anyone at all. It is a courtesy for the people walking by him, so that they do not have to wonder what he is doing and why he is alone.
A group of hippies is smoking marijuana from a hookah in the corner of the park, the sticky smell of it begins to cover up the dreamy scent of lavender coming from a trellis down the street. I thought about the boy in the red shirt. Surely I should talk to him? Here we are, two solitary citizens of Earth, drawn to the park by the promise of sunsetâ€¦ what more need we have in common to know that we are of the same ilk? I rise from my seat, not even knowing what my body will decide to do. I walk to the fence and look out over the city.
â€śHey!â€ť comes a voice. â€śWhatâ€™s up? Who are you with?â€ť
It is the voice of another boy, speaking to the boy in the red shirt.
â€śOh, uh, nobody,â€ť he responds a bit uncertainly. There is an awkward moment, as the boy in the red shirt has just been made to indirectly admit that something of the Poetic lies hidden within him.
â€śIâ€™ve wanted to come down here,â€ť he explains, â€śbut I couldnâ€™t find anyone to come with me.â€ť The way he says it implies that he probably didnâ€™t look very hard.
The other boy invites the boy in the red shirt to come and â€śhangâ€ť with him and his friends, and the boy in the red shirt has no choice but to acquiesce. He is swallowed into a group and there is again just one person in the park who is alone with the sunset.
This Semester is technically over now
Tuesday. 5.8.07 10:28 pm
From my professor, in response to my presentation today:
"Just wanted to say that you did a very nice job of presenting your project today. You described the goals, the physics of the problem and the nature of the inverse problem so clearly that it was hardly noticeable that you don't actually have results yet! I was impressed."
hahHAhaha. I don't really know how to take that one.
Tuesday. 5.8.07 10:26 pm
Who's that handsome, mysterious gentleman?
Sunday. 5.6.07 10:28 pm
Act II, Scene 3
Sunday. 5.6.07 2:42 pm
A sparely furnished kitchen. Z sits center stage at a small table. Her lunch is meticulously spread before her and she is slicing things to prepare them to put on a small, simple plate.
C enters stage right. His hair is slightly messy and bleached blond and he is wearing a ripped white tank-top with with a neon pattern on the front, splattered with paint, and a pair of old athletic shorts.
C (shouting towards stage left): HEY! I don't know what to throw away! You have to help me!
K, off stage left: Just throw away the things you don't want to keep!
C: I want to keep everything! He turns to Z, as if seeing her for the first time. I'm throwing away my old clothes today. It's killing me.
K enters stage left and they exeunt stage right. Their voices can be heard offstage as Z carefully assembles her lunch.
K: What about this one! We can throw this one out.
C: NO!!! I love that shirt.
K: How about this one? It says... "Deep Purple"
C: What?! How can you even say that! That's a classic band!
K: It's old.
C: No way.
K: Ok, how about this one. Can we PLEASE throw this one away?
C: What! You like that shirt! You like that shirt!
K: No, C, I don't like this shirt. Or this tank-top. We should throw it away.
C: But I need tank-tops!
K: Nobody wears tank-tops anymore, honey. What about this shirt? It's a wreck.
C: That's my work-shirt, though, I use it for work.
K: No you don't, when was the last time you wore this?
C: But I need it! I need it for work!
K: C, honey, you don't even do that kind of work anymore. What about this one, this one is really ugly.
C: That's not ugly! I just bought that this year. That is a really fashionable shirt.
K: Yeah, fashionable if you lived 100 years ago. Give me your belts.
C: No, I can't throw out my belts.
K: You are so past the stage of your life where you would wear these belts, sweetie. What about that?
C: It's my cousin's. I have to give it back to her.
K: You haven't seen your cousin in 8 years. Give it to Z.
C: But I'm going to see her this summer.
K: Are you sure? Why don't you just give it to Z.
C: If don't see her this summer, I'll give it to Z, ok? But I'm going to see her.
Some 80s glam rock starts playing which drowns out their voices. Z has stopped eating and is staring at her perfectly chopped food and single plate. Scene.
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