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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

Age. 34
Gender. Female
Ethnicity. that of my father and his father before him
Location Altadena, CA
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:


Extra points for people who know what Samarinda is.
The Phases of the Moon Module
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
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
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 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
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
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
The Help
Zion Andrews
The Unit
Quantum Brain
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
No One Ever Told Us We Were Defeated
Memento Nora
The Name of the Wind
The Terror
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
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
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.
Sunday. 1.28.07 2:34 pm
Today I went to the library all day to do secret activities. You know how they always say, "Welcome to college. Sleep, a social life, good grades: choose two."

In college I definitely chose a social life and good grades. Seems like in graduate school I've been choosing good grades and sleep. Towards the end of the semester, sleep goes, too. Maybe in graduate school you only get to pick one and half.

I've also been surfing Amazon to see if they have the books I need. Man, books are so expensive. I wonder how much my CFD books cost.... I was spoiled by last semester when I only had to buy one paperback.

I should have gone to Notre Dame where they would have given me four grand for whatever the hell I desired. But then the winter would have been overpowering, I think. When I think of Notre Dame I think of aging buildings, icy wind, and the whole campus overshadowed by the great bronze statue of Christopher Columbus, WATCHING US. And I also think of boxing leperchauns, of course.

ANYWAY, on the way home from the library I was driving along and I spied with my good eye a band of emo kids crossing the street ahead. Ok, so these weren't the stylish, adorable mopey Cali emo kids who form emotionally-charged suburban garage bands and are a danger to themselves but not others. These were the dirty, punky, bad-smelling, slightly-gothically dressed emo-haired kids of the greater Northeast that I'm still trying to figure out. They had decided upon this jaywalking escapade in front of my car because they had seen that on the other side of the street someone had dropped a large number of bagels on the sidewalk. I don't know exactly what had happened because many of the bagels were completely smashed into crumbs and some of them looked perfect, untouched tori of bagelerific perfection. But that was only in shape: all of them looked very dirty. They were spread across the sidewalk like someone had shot them at it with a bagel cannon from a third floor window.
("had shot them at it", I bet that would be a difficult construction for a non-english speaker)
The punk kids ran over and started grabbing the bagels wildly off the sidewalk. They examined each one feverishly, stacking them up in their arms, casting away one when they found a better looking replacement... the cast away bagel would immediately be snatched by another person..... until almost all the bagels were taken and the emo kids started to run away with their bounty.

Ok. So last I heard, the emo kids of the Noreast are not starving. Last I heard, punk kids still had shelter and probably parents and enough money to buy hair dye. SO WHY THE LOOTING OF THE FALLEN BREAD???? I mean, I know Seth's hippie roommates periodically go through the dumpster out the back of the bakery and eat rolls and muffins that they just threw out.... that's pretty disgusting and those rolls were just in a case waiting to be sold and are still wrapped in plastic. And those girls are hippies, you expect them to do things like that! I did not expect that from the punk kids. Do they have a gigantic squirrel they're trying to keep alive in their garage? That is the only thing I can think of that would warrant such behavior.


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My shower is like x(sinx)
Saturday. 1.27.07 4:46 pm
My shower seems to have absolutely no powers of temperature regulation. I never know whether its drastic oscillations in temperature are due to some intrinsic shower failure, or if it is due to my roommates turning on and off the sink and the showers and toilets in other parts of the house.

So whenever I'm in the shower and the temperature changes I always imagine my roommate, hunched over the sink tap, laughing maniacally as he switches off and on the knobs at will. If were to draw a graph showing the magnitude of temperature change as a function of time in the shower, this would be kind of what it would look like, only not quite so regular in time step:

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Earl Boykins n' Me
Saturday. 1.27.07 1:02 pm
Another lazy Saturday. I've decided to organize my room and finances today. In addition to doing all my homework for the entire upcoming week. No point in doing work on weekdays. That would take away from my surfing Nutang and Deviant Art time. Nobody wants that.

I've determined that I've been gaining weight. Or at least, I gained some over Christmas and I haven't lost any of it. This is all according to the bathroom scale. I used to be the same height and weight as my favorite NBA player Earl Boykins, but alas, no more. I mean, come on!! What is the point of not gaining weight if it's the middle of winter and I'm cold and I need warm and tasty food and I can't go outside and I wear a parka every day!! Besides, some things about gaining weight ain't so bad. ("We're going to turn those mosquito bites into juicy juicy mangoes!")

Me, at the weight of Earl Boykins:

Earl himself, who holds the NBA record for most points scored in OT:

Aight, better get back down to Earl Boykins' weight soon. I like to call it my "fighting weight". This is where the running track and the playing mad DDR would usually come in, but presently I can do neither. :(

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it is Sofa King cold
Friday. 1.26.07 8:11 am
I was going to write about how FREAKING COLD IT IS HERE. O.M.G. I was also kind of thinking about writing about my first computational fluid dynamics class today, or, as my prof calls it "CFD" which he says stands for either "Colorful Fluid Dynamics" or "Currently False Data", to describe what other fluids guys think of CFDers and their fancy graphs and simulations.

But mostly about how it is SO COLD. This isn't any ordinary cold, like one might get in the perfect state of Colorado, where the sun is actually hot. It's been around 9 degrees all day... it's still 9 degrees. With wind chill, it's -8. I've been living in LA for the past four years, for crying out loud. Even when you are inside and warm, this cold still sits in your core, in your gut where you feel emotions like fear. Maybe that's why they call it "cold fear".

But instead of writing about either of these things...

I'm going to lie on my bed dramatically and listen to enya. Cause it's Friday, babayyy, and I do what I want!

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Ce coin du monde
Thursday. 1.25.07 5:35 pm
Dans ce coin du monde il n'y a pas du bruit. Seulement des plantes et des briques et un cas de verre. Il y a plusieurs pierres d'une ancienne epoque la dedans.

Dans ce coin du monde il n'y a rien que mes pensées, mes mémoires, et mon imagination, qui regarde ce qui se passe dehors, du filon-couche de fenêtre au bord de l'univers.

In other news, should I learn to speak Gaelic, Arabic, or Spanish?

In news written by famous people whom I admire:

"Facile credo, plures esse Naturas invisbiles quam visibles in rerum universitate."

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My secret life
Wednesday. 1.24.07 10:03 pm
I awoke in the early hours of the morning (around 4am) to the smell and sound of my roommate cooking eggs. I shuffled out in order to make him gasp with concerned astonishment that he had awakened me by his 0-dark-thirty egg-filled breakfast. He went to NYC today to shadow a plastic surgeon. He's thinking about getting into plastic surgery. I don't know though, that might take up the time he would otherwise spend teaching o-chem, teaching physics ("which is a little boring to teach because it's soooo easy!"), finishing med-school, writing his neuroscience dissertation, doing his normal residency, doing some carpentry (on the side), speculating in real estate, considering funding online dating start-ups, and fixing the washing machine. Meanwhile his mother is a librarian who used to be a classical pianist and both his father and brother were golf pros. Now his brother lives in San Francisco and sometimes France, where he has a house on the french riviera and he is involved with high stakes investment banking.
Back when he was in college (after he graduated from an alternative "hippy" magnet school that only the two smartest kids from each regular school were allowed to attend, where he was a class or two behind Matt Damon, and lived on the same block as the New Kids on the Block), he was in a rocker band and enjoyed some popularity as a bassist. Now that he's getting a little older, he'd like to settle down and have some kids. He's also shifted his attention to becoming incredibly buff, which involves constantly pumping iron at gold's gym as well as eating protein shakes for breakfast which are a mix of juice, ice cream, ice, protein powder, fruit, and broccoli. It is usually a brownish-green color and the blender is on the other side of my wall. Then he makes fun of me for eating baloney and peanuts and eats another ten eggs.

But the point of this story is that this morning when I awoke, my first thought was of course of boolean operators, because I'd been trying to cram Matlab into my head for the entire day previous. But my SECOND thought was that I should spend this semester cultivating a secret life. I mean, the internet is a good place to start, and some may say that I have a secret life online (yes, it goes even further than nutang, my online secret life), but I think in addition I will cultivate a real-life secret life. What will my secret life entail, you may ask? Why I cannot tell you, it is a secret. But I will tell you that while last semester the main thrusts of my constant battle of self-improvement were learning how to cook food and learning how to be graceful (AND TURN MY FEET OUT!!!), and the thrust of the winter term was to get into touch with my creative side (i.e. start drawing, writing, and taking photographs again) the thrust of this semester will be centered on improvement of the brain.

I intend to learn everything there is to learn. EVERYthing. I will learn all of it. And memorize most of it.
Of course this focus on the brain is sometimes a mistake, because it ignores the body and an idle body can wreck havoc on the concentration that the mind is trying to achieve, so if I can throw a random break-dancing class in there, I will, but I'm mostly going to try to get to bed early and wake up early and memorize things and read outside materials (not all of it has to be related to class, of course) and become one of those mofos that seems to know every damn thing. In the past the mistake I have made with these types of semesters is that I aim to "do well in my classes". I can't really control that. I can only *KNOW. EVERYTHING.* and the evaluation methods that my professor chooses will be up to him. But I will not be hemmed in by the subject material presented in my classes.

All of this will be more achievable if my aims are mostly secret, and my sessions of scholarly enhancements clandestine. No more will be said of this. Forget all you know.....

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Wednesday. 1.24.07 5:28 pm
Besides the word "pet peeve" another pet peeve of mine is when people say, "There is wayy too much testosterone/estrogen in this room."

Man, that is so annoying. Nobody likes to be diminished to the sum of their biological/chemical parts. That is SO annoying. In fact, I want to invent a word describing how it feels when someone does this to you. Maybe "biolittlement"? "biominish"?

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The Battle of the Sexes
Wednesday. 1.24.07 7:11 am
I'm writing this blog because after reading Ranor's most recent entry I got to thinking about it more in depth. Because it's not really just about boys crying, it's about boys being truly human- in a sense, for a moment not being boys or men at all but sharing in the entire gamut of human emotions elicited by human experience.
So this got me to think about the differences between man and woman. I was talking to my roommate the other day about these differences, and he was lamenting that "women these days" of "our generation" (he is 10 years older than me, but whatevz) have lost their femininity. They've developed this defensive exterior, this sheen of hardness that he claims is not present in other generations. I think part of the reason he makes this proclamation is because his girlfriend typifies this type of woman, but he may be right. In the past when women weren't so integrated in the workplace, your average woman did not need a particularly thick skin. The workplace demands a tough exterior to be able to deal with the competition and criticism that one inevitably runs into there. Sure, these pressures can be found at home, but at home you aren't always required to deal with them with stony-faced professionalism. It is only natural that women should develop behaviors that reflect their surroundings and further their goals.

And let us think for a moment on what "femininity" actually is. I think in some ways it is the gentle and tender way a woman moves through life, avoiding the bluntness of direct engagement and being a pleasure for the eyes, the ears, and the mind to encounter, through grace, gentleness of voice, and attention to her looks. Many people might disagree with me here, but I believe that this is the femininity of which my roommate speaks. But here again we see the hallmarks of change. In the past a woman held a lesser position than a man (some would call it "complementary" in some cultures, but I call it lesser because it weakened her independence and curtailed her personal liberties). But this absolutely did not mean that women were powerless creatures. I think they say it in the Joy Luck Club- A man is the head of a household, but a woman is the neck, and she can turn the head whichever way she pleases.
Woman, in her pursuit of power and influence (a drive which is the same as a man's) has been forced for milennia to assume the role of manipulator. She works hard to seem unthreatening, meek, beautiful, and tantalizing. She studies and comes to understand the moods of both women and men, becoming sensitive to changes in them and how they might be affected by her own behavior. In short, just as a man must learn how to stand on his own two feet before other men, boldy expressing himself, appearing strong and striving after his goals, a woman must learn how to use the man as a tool to get what she wants- whether that is to have him ask her out, to get him to get her the presents she desires but cannot purchase, or to direct the future of her family. Thus the so-called "feminine wiles" of woman are just, in my humble opinion, a reaction to the power structure in which woman was born. Blunt women did not often get what they wanted, because the man had the power over them to overrule it, and bluntness in women was not valued.

This is no longer true.

It has been a slow march, but with the coming of the 20th century, women for the first time can achieve complete financial and personal independence. I cannot overstate the importance of this development. It changes everything. For the first time in history, woman stands with man, not slightly behind and to the side. For the first time, she is subject to many of the same societal pressures as he. As our world passes through the Age of Technology, they are learning and experiencing things new things together, and innovating together as well.
Woman is learning that if she wants something out of this world, for the first time in history, she can just stand up and get it.

So what does this have to do with men crying?
I say... so what if women of this age appear to have lost their "femininity"? Womankind is going through a radical revision of strategy here. She is free, but she hasn't yet decided what she thinks freedom means. At first she wanted to seem much more like a man, and reject all of the hallmarks of the traditional female role. Now I believe that the pendulum is swinging back, and women have decided that they can pick and choose from traditionally masculine and traditionally feminine roles and they have to feel shame about neither. Man is reacting to this. In many ways the liberation of women has liberated man, who is increasingly no longer stuck in his position as bread winner and caretaker, but for the first time part of a real partnership.
So in essence I am not concerned with how men and women are different. Talking about this and that silly and useless item which separates women from men- this pop culture idea of women as catty and emotional- the idea as men as feeling no emotions but anger. These commercials that portray men as idiots who can't even operate the folding backseat in a mini van! COME ON!

The thing that is important about the two sexes is that we SHARE so many THINGS. We share the workplace, we share the duties of home, we share the human experience and the whole rollercoaster of emotions that goes with it. I would much rather learn about a person's individual nature, the places where we differ and the things that we share... human being to human being. To discuss the petty differences in gender is to fill up the space between two people with trivialities. It forces each into a role- "the boyfriend" or "the girlfriend", and each begins to assume a personality around the other that they wholly lack while among friends. And that is a shame, because I think you really miss learning something about somebody else when you force that person into a role.

I think you'd find that a lot of people (like here on Nutang, for example) if you only read their writing and gendered pronouns didn't exist, it would be a long time before you could figure it out what sex they were.

So let the boys cry (if the occurrence is heart-breaking, we don't want any pansy-asses here of any sex). And let the women decide how much of their "femininity" they are going to keep. There is a man for every type of woman and a woman for every type of man. And in the broader context, away from the man/woman paradigm... there is a human being for every human being, no matter what sex they are.

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