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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.


The Profile


Zanzibar
Age. 33
Gender. Female
Ethnicity. that of my father and his father before him
Location Cherry Hills Vil, CO
School. Other
» More info.
The World









The Link To Zanzibar's Past
This is my page in the beloved art community that my sister got me into:

Samarinda

Extra points for people who know what Samarinda is.
The Phases of the Moon Module
CURRENT MOON
Croc Hunter/Combat Wombat
My hero(s)
Only My Favorite Baseball Player EVER


Aw, Larry Walker, how I loved thee.
The Schedule
M: Science and Exploration
T: Cook a nice dinner
W: PARKOUR!
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
Looking Backwards
Wild Swans
Exodus
1984
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)
Uglies
Pretties
Specials
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"
Pompeii
Is Multi-Culturalism Bad for Women?
Americans in Southeast Asia: Roots of Commitment (in progress)
What's So Great About Christianity?
Aeolian Geomorphology
Aeolian Dust and Dust Deposits
The City of Ember
The People of Sparks
Cube Route
When I was in Cuba, I was a German Shepard
Bound
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
Twilight
Eclipse
New Moon
Breaking Dawn
Armageddon's Children
The Elves of Cintra
The Gypsy Morph
Animorphs #23: The Pretender
Animorphs #25: The Extreme
Animorphs #26: The Attack
Crucial Conversations
A Journey to the Center of the Earth
A Great and Terrible Beauty
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
Dandelion Wine
To Sir, With Love
London Calling
Watership Down
The Invisible
Alice in Wonderland
Through the Looking Glass
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
The Host
The Hunger Games
Catching Fire
Shadows and Strongholds
The Jungle Book
Beatrice and Virgil
Infidel
Neuromancer
The Help
Flip
Zion Andrews
The Unit
Princess
Quantum Brain
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
No One Ever Told Us We Were Defeated
Delirium
Memento Nora
Robopocalypse
The Name of the Wind
The Terror
Sister
Tao Te Ching
What Paul Meant
Lao Tzu and Taoism
Libyan Sands
Sand and Sandstones
Lost Christianites: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew
The Science of God
Calculating God
Great Contemporaries, by Winston Churchill
City of Bones
Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne
Divergent
Stranger in a Strange Land
The Old Man and the Sea
Flowers for Algernon
Au Bonheur des Ogres
The Martian
The Road to Serfdom
De La Terre à la Lune (ip)
In the Light of What We Know
Devil in the White City
2312
The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August
Red Mars
How to Be a Good Wife
A Mote in God's Eye


want to read: Last Hunger Games Book, Honeybee Democracy, The Bell Jar
The Juanes Module


Juanes just needed his own mod. Who can disagree.
A Boring Entry
Wednesday. 11.28.12 11:52 am
I've got too many things going on. So many things, in fact, that taking time out to write them all down in this entry is stressing me out.

First and foremost I am writing this paper. It must be done by December 15th. So far I only have half an introduction with hardly any references.
2. Proof-reading the December church newsletter (today)
3. Finishing my NANOWRIMO novel ! (today) [this is why I haven't written any entries in a while, by the way]
4. Meeting up with my friend so she can tell me about her serious woes (tomorrow)
5. Mailing stuff to my random friends (tomorrow)
6. Returning library books (tomorrow?)

7. Writing a random abstract and applying for funding for a conference I'm not sure I really want to go to (?) (due Friday)
8. Simulating some volcanic eruptions for random colleague.
9. Editing a paper that I'm a co-author on (asap)

10. Storing some random suitcases in my scary, haunted basement for a random friend (this weekend)
11. Taking my friend to get make-up (Saturday)
12. Making Christmas gift boxes for little poor children (Saturday)


Then I'll have a week to finish the paper so that I can get it out to my co-authors in a reasonable time-frame... I still have to run all of the simulations AND make the figures that result from them... then I have to welcome these random official Mars people and sit in useless meetings for two days... then I have to host writing club (I'm now the president)... then I have to go to Münster to give a seminar and inspire some students... then I have to pack all my stuff and go to Denver...... and then there are all these things that I forgot that I promised to do, like being editor on a special journal issue about explosive volcanism... or being in a group to study the surface of Mercury... or finishing a paper about awesome stuff on Mars... or starting to model the complete martian sulfur cycle... or figuring out how to swing a sabbatical in Hawaii when I don't have a job yet... or reading about early Christian gnostics/Winston Churchill/sand stones...

le sigh. I think my soccer team forgot to contact me to come to games, but I haven't contacted them to remind them because I've been too busy to play in any games.

But after a very rocky start, my Nanowrimo novel turned out AWESOME. Someday I'll have to go back through it and fix it so it is actually complete/readable. WHEN I HAVE TIME...

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To All the Matts I Knew Before
Saturday. 11.10.12 2:39 pm
Aw, hell, you're still cute.

Stay classy, cute Matts, stay classy.

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The Rocky Road to Excellence
Friday. 11.9.12 6:04 pm
Today my boss was like, "How many time-steps did you put for each day?" I thought it was 96, but I wasn't sure. We were talking in front of 15 people, so I decided not to guess.

"I'm not sure," I said. "What do you suggest, given the resolution of my model?"
"I suggest once every 15 minutes," he said. I wasn't sure if he said "15" or "50"
"And how many times a day is that?" I asked.
He looked at me like I was the dumbest person alive. "24 times 4," he said.
"96" said someone who was more helpful. Dammit.

Right after the meeting I had to go and tell him that I had made a stupid mistake in calculating something else and the results that I had shown him earlier were therefore wrong. The other post-doc who started here at the same time as I did was there when this happened, and he gave me some tips for how I can do better next time. Thanks. You can see why during the past year I haven't asked for much help.

But this year is different. This year I'm going to accomplish what I came here to accomplish, no matter how many stupid questions I have to ask and no matter how many times my boss has to look at me like I just asked who invented the Pythagorean theorem. Through a clever plan of asking my post-doc rival to explain things to me, secretly reading thick tomes of atmospheric science behind everyone's backs, and asking my boss to explain things when he assumes I already know them, I will become a badass atmospheric scientist. Because the only thing worse than looking stupid is allowing your fear of looking stupid to keep you from ever getting any smarter. Plus, once I have taken the french for every piece of knowledge they have, I will move back to the USA and nobody will be the wiser.

Because the best way to get people to listen to you is to have useful things to say.
Because the best way to get your peers to respect is to be the best.


EXCELLENCE IN ALL THINGS!

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The Rising Tide
Saturday. 11.3.12 4:32 am
We were in the beach house when we heard the shouting. I opened the side door and stepped out onto the little spit of sand that connected our door mat to the beach. The water was coming in. Much faster than any tide. People with barbecues and beach umbrellas and little children were running up the beach.

"Oh shit," I called back into the condo, "It's a tsunami." My mother looked up from where she was sorting kitchen items behind the counter. "Oh shit," she said. She came to the door and we both looked out at the beach as the water continued to rise. The people with picnics and barbecues reached our door and asked us to let them in. We did, and in their rush they spilled grilled onions and curry sauces on our white carpet. Mom was beginning to get unhappy. Through the glass door we could see that the water had reached about a foot in height. Still the thick rubber laid around the doorframe kept it out. The tide receded. I opened the door again and looked out at the beach. The light was so bright it was blinding me. My little sister jinyu came in from the beach. She had run up to the next highest level, but she had been outside. The whites of her eyes were badly burned. One of them had turned partially black. Mom was worried, but jinyu said she could't feel anything. For a moment I could see an arrangement of bizarre sea creatures, exposed by the retreat of the tide.

Within a couple of hours, people were back on the beach. We had dodged a bullet there, everyone agreed. The beach looked new and clean. My dad said he was going to go pick up a movie. My mom told him that he certainly wasn't as long as this apartment was in the state that it was in. He sighed heavily and came back to help her sort through the junk behind the counter. I went outside. I can't remember what I was going out to get, though I would try to remember many times, later. I was too far away from the house to go back when the water returned. I couldn't get into any house--- all I could do was run.

I ran blindly for high ground. All I could think of was to go up, up, up. I headed for the cliffs behind the beach. On this side of the cliffs was civilization, on the other side was the high desert. The sandy incline leading up to them was steep but I flew up it like I was running down a hill. I mounted the cliffs by an artificial staircase. At the top I paused and looked back. The scene was surreal. The bright sunshine shone down upon the glittering low-rise beach houses, and the sparkling blue water coursed between them and rose. Rose, rose, always it rose.

"Higher ground!" Somebody yelled. We watched with stupefied amazement as the water kept rising. Surely it couldn't reach us on the cliffs... surely... we started running. The cliffs petered out into sand dunes. My fear of heights was forgotten completely. It seemed like a relict fear, forced into complete obsolescence by my new, overwhelming fear of the rising tide: I could remember having it but it no longer meant anything. I helped some others across a precarious stone bridge and into the desert.

We saw the landscape differently now. Every feature was only important for its topographic relief. When we looked at the sand dunes we only saw troughs that would be filled with death, and tiny crests that could be bridges to life. The dunes were lower than the cliffs. We needed to get higher. Higher. Higher. The cliffs were buying us time. I was holding two girls by the hand and nearly pulling them through the sand. Suddenly I was face to face with my own older sister, Rachel. After that, nothing else was important, only Rachel. We clung to each other like morning glory vines and we ran.

Finally we came to a rise and a human installation. It was one of those strange, run-down desert places that had been built with great hope and then nearly abandoned to decay. It was supposed to be a fun-house, with rooms full of mirrors, a miniature golf course, a generous deck and a small snack bar. Heaped into the same installation were some large buildings filled with technical equipment and two giant radio towers. We descended upon it, a wave of humanity preceding the wave that was chasing us. "High ground!" we shouted at the people at the entry. "High ground!" I screamed at the people playing croquet. They looked at us like we were crazy. The only thing we could stop running long enough to say was "High ground! High ground! High ground!"

And then the wave breached the cliffs. It flowed spectacularly down into the desert, filling up and then wiping out the sand dunes; carrying off every tiny living creature that still ran upon their crests. The croquet players were listening now. Rachel and I ducked into the fun house. There was a staircase where the stairs moved in and out of the wall. I ran up it with frenzied energy but I tripped two thirds of the way up and slid all the way back to the bottom. The operator appeared to ask us to buy our ticket. "We need to get to high ground," I said. He pointed around the corner to an ordinary staircase, and we were gone.

We emerged on the deck. There were people trying to break into the radio towers, but they were locked. The radio towers, our salvation, and they were locked. We stood on the deck and watched the water coming in. It seeped over the croquet pitch, it crept into the fun house. How could it keep coming? The ocean must be empty! We didn't want to think about all of the precious people we had left at the beach. Anything could happen. Many of the people who were on the beaches in Thailand in 2004 survived the tsunami despite being washed miles out to sea. The water rose and rose. We ran across a metal bridge to some of the technical buildings. They were a maze of metal grates and panes of glass. We heard some voices shouting. They had found a boat. A boat! A boat in the desert! Nobody knew if it would float, but we all piled aboard anyway. The water was now flowing beneath the metal grated bridges. We waited.

And then I woke up. THE END.

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Choices
Thursday. 10.25.12 5:46 pm
When I was a kid we had a lot of rabbits. We had a whole bunch of them, out in a shed in the side yard. Over the years we had a lot of different plans on how we could split up the task of feeding them, but little by little as the years went on, the task fell more and more to me.

Why?

Well, I guess I liked the rabbits. I guess I didn't mind going out in the dark or in the snow. And I guess there was always a part of me that worried that if I stopped feeding them in protest that one of them might die before somebody else would start doing it. I guess in that way I felt like the choice to feed them wasn't completely a free one.


At church on Tuesday night we were talking about gender roles. What were gender roles like in our countries of origin? How did they differ in France? Did we agree with the gender roles that our country assigned? We had some American girls, an American guy, a Pakistani guy, some French guys, and a Korean guy. The American girls (asian, white, filipina) went on for a while about how unbalanced things were in America, until the Pakistani guy told us about how things were in Pakistan. After that they all had to admit that things were pretty good in America. [For example, they were surprised to discover that a Pakistani woman does not get to decide how many children she wants to have. That choice is made without her input by her husband and his family.] I wasn't surprised at their kind of naive ideas about supposed inequality of women in America. I read all kinds of articles all of the time from women complaining about the fact that not many women hold high-powered CEO jobs, or that there is a huge leak in the "academic pipeline", meaning that a huge number of talented female graduate students never make it to the level of tenure-track professor. I went to a forum where a woman got up and passionately described how she had always dreamed of being a planetary scientist but she had to give up all of her dreams to follow her husband's job for the sake of her family. At the time I thought it might have been something she should have discussed with her husband ten years ago rather than right now in front of a huge audience of female planetary scientists. I guess I'd never really felt that kind of pressure. After all, I see myself as part of a new, privileged generation of liberated women. I have encountered no glass ceilings, no one telling me I wasn't good enough, and I'm allowed to walk freely around town without any male relatives in sight. In my mind, the fight was pretty much won. I had every choice and opportunity ahead of me, the Universe was at my disposal. After that, the decision of who should raise the kids and who should work at what job is up for negotiation in each individual case. In my case, I rather thought that I would like to stay home and take care of the kids, at least in their younger years--- didn't I have the prerogative to do that, too?

The guys at the church gathering were pretty forward-thinking. They didn't think that there should be any specific gender roles, either in the home or at church or in the office. They let us girls speak first and then just basically agreed with whatever we said.

"But honestly," said the Korean in french to the french guy, "if I had enough money, I'd like it if my wife was able to stay home."

"You should say that in English," said the french guy. And then he repeated it in English. We girls were perfectly neutral, and we asked him what he would do if his wife wanted to work outside of the home.

"Oh, she could do that too, if she wanted to. But personally, it would be nice, if it were financially feasible, for her to stay home."

The french guy laughed out loud and said, "Good luck finding a woman like that!"
But the other french/chinese guy agreed. The black guy from North Carolina also agreed. In principle it was fine for women to have jobs, but for each of them personally they would prefer it if their own wife stayed home.

"I mean, when I was growing up," said the North Carolinian, "The womenfolk did all of the housework and the cooking. So that's what I'm used to. But just because I'm a man don't mean I can't pick up a dish every once in a while."

They agreed that if she really wanted to have a job, well then, she could do that, too. We asked them if they would ever consider staying home with the kids, and they said that they thought that it was fine in the abstract, but they would never personally do it, and they wouldn't really respect a man who did.

I started to think about me and all my friends in the 'leaky academic pipeline'. I mean, those friends of mine, they're getting to the point where they're starting to talk about kids. You know, quietly, conspiratorially, out of the earshot of the menfolk. "I just don't want to put off having kids so long that I wake up one day and I've run out of time," they say. If they're dating a guy who is about their same age he feels very little of the same biological pressures. But they work full time! They're supposed to be applying to jobs! They're supposed to be getting tenure! Instead they have a never-ending progression of short-term assignments with no real stability and even less money. But these women, these women who have been told all of their lives that they are smart and ambitious and that they should become scientists and professors and engineers and lawyers and high-powered CEOs, this new generation of women upon whom the 70s-era feminists have pinned all of their unrealized dreams..... I think these women are finding themselves fishing from a pool of potential partners who support them in the abstract, but who personally think that it might be nice if their own wife were to stay home. If it were financially feasible. Or, among the academic crowd, those who personally think that both members of the couple should work. But for the women this means that they're finding themselves choosing between staying home and raising the kids, or having nobody stay home to raise the kids, leaving the day-cares and the after-school programs and the kids to raise themselves. Or maybe settling for a reality without kids at all.

I guess I could start to understand that woman at the planetary science forum who felt that she'd spent 27 years of her life preparing for something, that she'd finally been offered the whole Universe on a platter and given free rein to choose any or all of it---- only to find out that the choice was an illusion, that she couldn't actually have it all, and that she could make any choice she wanted as long as she chose to sacrifice everything.



I guess she found out that if she didn't feed the rabbits...


it meant that nobody would.

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Multi-cultural Conversations Part II
Saturday. 10.20.12 12:59 pm
Zimbabwean Girl: Well I'm originally from Zimbabwe, and my dad's Zimbabwean, but my mom's from Zambia and I've lived most of my life in Namibia. I've lived here for a few years but I think next year I might try to move to Canada.
Me: Do you like Namibia?
ZG: Eh. I like the country, I hate the people.
Us: Really? Why?
ZG: Well they used to have apartheid there, you know? And even though it is illegal now, well... it is still kind of there. People talk to you differently, you know?
Us: Uh... not really but yeah.
Me: I've always wanted to visit Namibia because of the beautiful sand dunes.
ZG: Yeah, we have amazing sand dunes. But watch out, because we also have like spiders the size of baseballs and desert lions.
French Girl: What is a desert lion?
ZG: How do you mean?
FG: Is it like a "lion of the desert"?
ZG: Uh, no, it's just a big giant lion that lives in the desert and eats people.
FG: Oh!
ZG: Yeah, you know like when you're a kid and you have to go on a school trip? They take you out and you have to camp in the desert for a few days and they teach you important things like how if you're being attacked by a lion or a leopard or a cheetah how you have to put your arm in front of your neck like this so when the lion goes for your throat it'll get your elbow instead, and you can run away.
American Guy: Um, I don't think I could outrun a cheetah anyway....
ZG: Well they can only run really fast for a short time.
AG: I think in that time they would definitely still catch me.
ZG: Yeah, well, I'm scared to death of desert lions, that's one bad thing about living in Namibia that you have to deal with.

===========================================================================

Nigerian Guy: Do you want to know the difference between American horror films and Nigerian horror films?
Us: What?
NG: In an American horror film the guy is always like, "Oh, what is that sound? I should go check it out. In an Nigerian horror film the guy would be like, 'What the hell is that sound!' and then he would RUN AWAY. And he would run really fast and shout out 'God help me!'"
Us: Ahhhhh. Smart Nigerians.
NG: But you shouldn't think that Nigerians aren't brave. In fact, Nigerians are very strong people. Nigerians never commit suicide, for example, because they know that they can make it through anything. Nigeria is a really funny country, actually, a lot of really funny things happen there.
Me: What kind of funny things?
NG: Well I'll give you an example. Every third Saturday is Sanitation Day, right? Nobody is allowed to take out their cars or go anywhere before 10 am because we all have to clean everything and take out the trash to the local dumpster. But the police are often watching because they are trying to catch people sneaking their cars out early or going to the bus stop or something. So I was helping my neighbor take out his trash and we saw a big bus. I was suspicious of the bus because it was painted in colors that were different from normal city buses. I don't know why I got this feeling, but I got a really bad feeling and I took off running. My neighbor took off running too after he saw me start to run. And it turned out it was a police bus. The police are always arresting you for not having the right paper or being on the wrong side of the street, or... how to say it?
Me: Um, for silly reasons?
NG: Yes, that is a good way to say it, for silly reasons. Then they take you to jail and someone must come and bail you out and you pay a fine. So the bus was already full of people that they had caught, and I was thinking only one thing in my head: He must not catch me. And I ran so fast, I did not know that I could run like that. And the policeman could not catch me, I outran him. But he decided that if he could not catch me, at least he could catch my neighbor. So he tried to catch him. But you see in Nigeria all of the people they stick together, and when they see something that is not supposed to be happening, they come out and if there are enough of them they can stop it. So they all came out of their houses and looked at the police officer and that is how my neighbor was rescued that time. Yeah, so all Nigerians have funny stories like that so when we get together we all talk about it and it is very funny. You would have to go there yourself and experience it to really know.




This morning I went out to find a vintage store. I looked around the vintage store for a while and found a belt with a buckle that said "Colorado" and on the back "Colorado is a state full of beauty. From the plains to the mountain tops, Colorado really represents the best that America can offer". I really wanted to buy it but the belt was a little small. Instead I bought a CD from some random musicians in the metro who were playing amazing Russian and Ukrainian folk music. In the afternoon I went to the church and we went out with a bunch of sandwiches that we'd made to give them to homeless people. Since it was raining the homeless people had all evaporated, so it took hours and hours to hand out all the sandwiches and we walked all over Paris. We met a lot of cool people, though, including a Romanian guy with six kids, a french guy who claimed that he had served in the army valiantly fighting against the English [....?], and a really nice Austrian woman who had been on the street for a month. We had a German guy with us so he spoke to her in German. All of the homeless people were really grateful for the sandwiches and more to the point, grateful that we stopped to chat with them. It was really nice to be walking around actively seeking out homeless people rather than trying to avoid them. I think maybe I'll buy a bunch of food and just carry it around with me from now on so that I'll have something to give.

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