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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. 39
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:

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 � 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
A Gentleman in Russia
The Fatal Conceit: The Errors of Socialism
Seneca: Letters from a Stoic
The Juanes Module


Juanes just needed his own mod. Who can disagree.
Saturday. 6.25.05 8:45 pm
It was time for the race. Dakar’s nostrils were filled with the smell of the other dragons, twitching with energy. Just seeing the starting line made Dakar’s breathing shorten, his muscles go tense with anticipation. He could see his brother, his brilliant scales reflecting shards of light across the slanted shadows of the other racers. He was in the centre of the starting line, whereas Dakar, as usual, was relegated to the twelfth position against the canyon’s wall. The route was simple: it ran along the sandy bottom where the river used to run, limiting the dragons to largely one dimensional movement just above the canyon floor. There were several close turns and they would slow Dakar considerably since he was in the extreme outside lane. Spectators were present; they were carrying flags of their various lineages and some of the DROM, though patriotism in the new government was pale and somewhat forced. Dakar could remember when the sky above the canyon rim was filled with whirling banners of Celestite. Back when the world was new.
He took his place in the twelfth lane. In position for the start, he could not see the other dragons behind him on the curve, he could only hear them. He could hear the strained, explosively tense sound of their breathless, waiting silence.
The horn sounded. Dakar lurched forward, taking to air. His mind was blank; the pounding of his wings against the air filled his folded ears. Any loose mass that lay on his muscles itched and burned as he surged over the sand and rocks. He wasn’t breathing. He sucked life-giving air into his lungs. He relaxed his straining neck and leaned forward. He could not tell how close the next dragon was. He needed to keep his head start to make up for the curve. He leaned hard into the first curve, barely staying in his lane. The cool air of the canyon burned in his lungs. He swept over the short rise that marked the halfway point. The spectators came into view, waving their banners furiously. He did not see them. They were cheering, screaming countless names and bits of advice and encouragement to the racers. He could not hear them. He was through the second turn. The others were closing in. Not close enough. The last stretch. His vision was black at the edges. He could not go any faster. He went faster. He heard one shout out of the hundreds of spectators. It was his father’s voice. Cheering for Chalco. He could see his brother out of the corner of his eye. He fell across the finishing line. He raked the sand almost immediately, coming to a crushing halt before his lane disappeared to a blank slate wall. With rasping voracity, he sucked at the cool air. His whole body felt light. With each breath his chest released a measure of its contraction and the black faded from the edge of his vision. His wings felt like rubber.
He turned and looked back at the finish line. Everyone had come across. They stood, staggered after the finish line, chests heaving. His father flew down from the cliff’s edge into the shadow, landing softly behind Chalco and putting his hand on his shoulder.

It was like Dakar was in a dream without sound. He could see his father’s mouth moving, smiling. Chalco’s lip curled up as he nodded, flushed and gleaming. Other dragons filled the space between him and his family. Second place. Second place, again. He could imagine if his father were like other fathers, how he would take a son under each wing. How he would boast that his sons were the two fastest dragons in Celestite. How proud he would be that his sons took the highest prizes again. He shook his head as if to shake the idea from his mind.
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