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
Tuesday. 8.16.05 7:55 pm
Which of Henry VIII's wives are you? this quiz was made by Lori Fury
Monday. 8.15.05 10:48 pm
fuck this shit, I'm learning to play the guitar for real this time, dammit!
Word to all those who cut themselves...
it also hurts a shitload to learn to play the guitar, so why not kill two birds with one stone by hurting yourself, and learning to play the guitar in order to write songs about your angst and sell them and make MILLIONS OF DOLLARS (after you sell out, of course) and all the other kids will hear your angsty songs and then maybe they won't feel like they have to cut themselves, you know?
It's like that story...
Sunday. 8.14.05 7:10 pm
Once upon a time I had ticket to go to Robben Island on a trip organized by Semester at Sea while I was in South Africa. My friend Phillip and I had planned to make South Africa our special country for independent travel because it was the only country that neither of us had a lot of trips that we'd pre-registered for. We were making arrangements to go inland, but the arrangements we made were not very good because I was supposed to get back from Robben Island at 5:00ish and our bus was leaving at 5:30pm. Phillip wanted those reservations though, because that was the only time the bus went out that day and if we waited we'd have one less day inland. I understood these things, but it still made my mind spin with how I could still go to Robben Island and see the prison cell that Nelson Mandela made home for 30 years (as well as, more importantly, penguins!) and yet make the bus on time. I could abandon the tour and take a ferry back by myself, but would I be on the other side of the island when the ferry left? How would I find Phillip? Would I have to take all the things I needed for three days with me to the island?
I was a little mad because I didn't want to lose the $36 I had spent on this ticket. The night before we arrived in port, I signed the book saying that I wanted to sell my ticket. I didn't think there was a chance that anyone would buy it, seeing as you could go much more cheaply if you just bought it independently and it was the very night before the trip, but I figured I'd give it a try. Around 8 in the evening, some girls came by and bought my ticket- they were thrilled, I got $35. I felt happy because I wasn't going to inconvenience Phil and we could easily make our bus. I went to find Phillip to tell him what I had done and it took me a while to find him. When I finally did, I announced breathlessly what I had done and waited for him to be happy. He didn't look happy at all and didn't answer right away.
Probably right around the time that I was selling my ticket, he had bought one... he was looking for me to tell me. He'd done it so that I could still go and not waste my $36 and we could figure out a way to the ferry and off to the bus together.
I told him that I would try and buy another ticket, but he said that it was silly because it would make things so much harder and it was better that we not go. I tried to help him sell his ticket for the rest of the night, but I couldn't find anyone to buy it. I offered to pay half of the ticket he had bought, but he wouldn't let me.
As it turned out, the only bus to our town left the day after the Robben Island trip, we'd just booked the day and they'd automatically switched it to the next day without telling us. We didn't realize that, of course, until we arrived at the bus station at 5:30pm.
Sunday. 8.14.05 2:48 pm
My window is open and it does not close anymore. I think the rain may have warped the wooden frame. It is cold in my room now, I hope I manage to close it before I have to leave for school, because after that I won't be home until Thanksgiving and it might snow in my room. I leave the window open because it keeps the room cool. I can hear the dogs well so if they're barking I can run downstairs and bring them in so they don't annoy the neighbors. Sometimes when there is a breeze it sweeps over my body softly, bringing the sweet smells of summer and the sound of the wind sweeping in great waves through the trembling leaves of the dogwood trees. It is best when it rains. The rain invokes a peculiar kind of sleep, one that is calm, deep, and somehow connected on a fundamental level to the quiet breathing of the Earth.
I also leave the window open so my room will feel alive. I had my bird Emerald for 8 years, as long as I had this room. When he died, my room was filled with unnatural stillness. The ambient bird warbling that formerly filled this empty space was suddenly gone. At first I had trouble sleeping, feeling like it was too quiet and there was something missing. Itâ€™s been a little more than two and half years now, and it still gets me when I open the door, I get that feeling like, â€śwhereâ€™s the bird, is he still ok?â€ť whenever I come into the room. There is no bird. The cage is gone, his spirit is gone from this place.
So I open the window so there will be life in my room
Nice Guys Don't Always Finish Last
Saturday. 8.13.05 1:21 pm
I think at the top of the perfect husband list, even above straight and virile and all that should be "nice".
I recently met this guy named Ryan, and he is so very nice. If anyone was ever trying to pressure you to do anything (even in fun: ex. come and jump in the lake! come drink large quantities of alcohol!) and you showed hesitance, he would immediately break down and say something like, "You don't have to if you don't want to." (even if he was totally plastered, and he'd really mean it). He'd even defend you against the others if they were still pressuring you.
I get the impression that doing bad things wouldn't even occur to him, much less would he ever decide to do them. Once we were walking home and my friend called ahead only to hear the others complain that we were taking a long time. He explained to them that we were taking such a long time because Ryan hurt his ankle or something and we had to help him limp back home. They were very sorry that they were angry with us and we got underneath Ryan's arms to help him "limp" into view. He was so overcome with guilt at having part in this charade that he almost wouldn't do it, and he broke the act barely after we came into view. I was always of the mind that it would be way more funny if he played along- I do that kind of stuff all the time- and I didn't think the friend who made it up was in any way evil, but it was just interesting to meet somebody so opposed to deceiving others that it was hard for him to commit even this seemingly harmless sin.
I have sort of eclectic music tastes, but he doesn't call me a loser for liking nsync or enrique iglesias. I had been so used to a combination of laughing at myself awkwardly and/or defending "uncool" groups I love that it was a weird but relieving feeling to find somebody who didn't make fun of me.
I'm not saying I'm going to go and marry him, but somebody will, and what a blessing he will be to her life.
Most people don't mean to be mean when they make fun of their friends, and some people really like the back-and-forth. But I don't like it when somebody I'm friends with or especially dating makes fun of me all the time. I don't like it when somebody my friend is dating makes fun of them. From the outside I can see how that sort of thing deflates the weird person they have inside of them until they are nothing more than "cool". One of my friend's boyfriend's likes to make fun of my friend for what a nerd she is and how dumb all of her hobbies are... I think he just doesn't have any hobbies of his own and if he didn't criticize what she does, he wouldn't have anything to talk about at all.
Anyway, little things like that are what is really important to me. I was struck by the way my friend Phil would always get two place settings when we sat down to eat when we were sailing on the ship. I thought about how thoughtful that was, and after a while I tried to be more like that and if he was getting two place settings, I would bring two glasses of water or fruit punch. I wish I were more thoughtful, I just sometimes need some really thoughtful person around me to remind me by example that there are things I could be doing to be nice that I'm forgetting about.
I would trade a lot of good husbandly traits like, "totally hot" or "hilariously funny" or whatever for "nice".
Friday. 8.12.05 9:56 pm
"There are those who do not believe that a single soul born in heaven can split into twin spirits and shoot like falling stars to earth where over oceans and continents their magnetic forces will finally unite them back into one. But how else to explain love at first sight?" - Don Juan DeMarco
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