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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. 37
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 � 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
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.
Ah, Memoirs of a Geisha
Saturday. 11.26.05 3:27 am
I have finished reading such a charming book. Not that its plot was particularly charming (though intensely interesting), or that the events were so very splendid (hardship is seldom splendid, though it makes a splendid read), but the fashion in which it was narrated was elegant and striking. It makes me wish to modify the inescapable narration I internally lend to the events in my own life so that I can make the inner words, flowing by like a rushing river after the spring melting of mountain snow, linger slightly longer upon my mind in the same way that a woman whose lost love has just been mentioned in passing conversation and snatches at any pretense keep his name from slipping away.

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Time to Write your thesis, foolio
Monday. 11.21.05 9:44 pm
Things I would like to be doing besides writing my thesis:

mowing the lawn
walking slowly down a leaf-strewn lane
skipping rocks
riding in a car down Old Georgetown Road
braiding my hair
taking a shower
oh my goodness. sleeping.
taking a bath
painting my nails
reading about Gamma Ray Bursts
going out to eat at Red Robin's
remembering what last summer was like
"hanging out" with boys Carol-Hutton-style
painting a fence
fixing my skateboard
vacuuming my carpet
drawing sun roses
watching the spiders crawl about on the porch
sitting in a patch of sunlight like a cat
watching the hummingbirds in the beautiful tree in the courtyard
listening to a lecture on spiral galaxies
lying face down on the carpet in exhaustion
squinting into the late afternoon sunlight
playing badminton
putting on lotion
filling out friendship surveys
learning to play the guitar off the internet
playing my harmonica to the rolling sea
leaning off the front of fifth deck and letting my hair get sticky with sea salt
dancing the waltz

On the other hand, I would rather write my thesis than do these things:

negotiate a taxi price in India
eat a pine cone
sit on a cactus for an hour
move to Salt Lake City
not write my thesis and fail

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Sickness and Publishing
Thursday. 11.17.05 12:38 pm
Oh, I am so sick. Such a sicky.

The stupid doctor's office won't take me til tomorrow morning. I don't know if I can wait that long. I'll probably have Scarlet Fever by then. Stupid doctor. Nobody wants to be around me because nobody can afford to be sick. I bet I caught it from that dumb girl in dance class that I had to dance with. Who comes to dance class when you are sick, right? That's just not considerate. Well, I probably had whatever I had before that.

I'm supposed to write the beginning of my thesis and observe all night tonight. I don't think that's going to happen. My prof was like, "don't observe" and that's great, sure, happy, but that means I have to observe all night on Saturday. :(

On the plus side, we're writing a paper about Gamma Ray Bursts and we're going to try and publish it and MY name is going to be on it!

When I come to speak at some lecture hall someday they're going to be like, "Dr. Zanzibar, PhD Geology, Astronomy and Engineering, published in 7 seven fields of scholarly inquiry." Co-authored a seminal work in the field of gamma ray burst detection and analysis during the gamma ray burst heyday of aught'5. haha, not really. Hopefully I can get a copy of the paper and then I can give it to people to read and they'll be like, "what??" because reading this paper will be like trying to read a paper written in !Xhosa for most people. My prof said I should go get some sleep. Then he said I should probably read the first version of this other paper we are writing and that should help me fall right asleep. haha.

I feel bad because I'm missing his class to fly out on Wednesday and I totally forgot so Seth was like, "you're leaving at lunch, so you're going to miss class, huhn?" and I said, "Oh, no, I'm not going to miss class, I'm flying out right after structure" and then they both reminded me that Astro is after lunch... so I'm going to be missing the class of the professor I was sitting there and talking to... he was like, "Yeah, MY class, don't you remember it?"

oh well. He's a swell guy. He won't hate me too much.

Man, I really wish this thesis section were written. The only way that's going to happen is... you guessed it! I have to write it!

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A Night Poem
Thursday. 11.10.05 1:54 am
Oh, to sleep with dreams so sweet
Muse of Night, wing my feet
Too long in shadow, a dreaming dearth
Firmly planted upon the Earth
From this reality I beg me untie
To ferocious freedom by lullaby

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Tuesday. 11.8.05 9:19 pm
Minutes turn into hours and hours into days and days... they become weeks, until you're more than 9 weeks into the semester and you look back on what has come before and you ask yourself, "where has all the time gone?" "What have I been doing for the past 9 weeks?"

Nine weeks is a long time. Nine weeks makes my soul weak. It makes my need-a-nap meter spring into dangerous overload zone. I need more time. I just used up an entire semester's print quota in 10 minutes. Nine weeks sends my lungs, heart, and various other innards into panic mode. Thanksgiving isn't that far away. But to think of all the things I must complete by that date... a little bit of me dies every time I stop to think on it.

Soon there won't be any of me left to die anymore.

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Hong Kong Memories
Tuesday. 11.8.05 11:37 am
As we walked through the little park, the city outside was in the process of waking. The people in the park were preforming tai chi. It seemed like it was their strange, fluid and mystical movements that were calling the city into life.

Had we been in America, we might have laughed at someone moving in such a way inside a public park. Here, the exercises were preformed by every age and rank in utmost seriousness, such that we, the walking tourist, without the skills to participate in this city-wide dance, might be the only cause for laughter.

Hong Kong was confusing. It wasn't a progression of events, nor was it a feeling that prevaded everything. It was not a state of constant stimulation. It was not India. Hong Kong was way-station, it was a city of complexity and at the same time impeccable order. Hong Kong returns to me as a series of moments. There is a vignette of feeling, which lingers before my eyes for as long as I want to keep it there before whirling away into a tornado of tail lights, neon signs and dirty window shades. Phil said that he never really "got" Hong Kong. But I think that's the point.

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writing letters to my garbage can
Tuesday. 11.8.05 11:31 am
And heavens the swirled above us
and the earth breathed beneath us
and there was no one on this planet
'sides you and me

it's times like that make you want to believe...

but don't. fer serious. It's a bad idea.

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Monday. 10.31.05 9:55 pm
The night was getting late, but we had finished dinner and we were still hungry. Oddly enough, next to that dingy little restaurant with the unidentifiable peices of bleeding meat in the window, the man under the orange light hacking pieces off for customers, there was a 7-Eleven. It was even rumored that if one sat on the curb in front of this 7-Eleven with one's laptop, one could get free wireless internet. Who would bring their laptop to this part of town, and who would dare put their feet out into that street even as far as that gutter, I did not know.

We looked around the store; there were Mars bars and Nestle bars and Sprite Ice, a kind of Sprite that made your mouth abnormally cold and refreshed. We usually passed one around like we were taking drugs, because that's what it felt like. We knew there must be something in there that wasn't FDA approved, or everyone in America would have one. And another one. and another one, please? Everything there was so familiar and yet slightly different, as in a dream when you find yourself in your house but when you look back on it nothing inside was quite like your house at all.

Maggie and I bought a Vienetta. How long had it been since we had had a Vienetta? It was 6 Hong Kong dollars, we had to buy it. It was mint.

When we got back to our room on the 15th floor of the Panda Hotel in Kowloon, we discovered that we had no spoons, so we each tore a bit of cardboard off the box and we ate that Vienetta, the whole thing, just between the two of us. We said it was for all those times that we had to share it with the whole family and no one ever felt like they got enough. It was hard to eat it with the flimsy cardboard and we spent the whole night laughing and licking the melting ice cream out of the box and feeling by the end that incredibly, there was such a thing as too much Vienetta.
As we fell asleep we could hear the strange opera music coming from behind our headboards that we weren't quite sure how to turn off.

I'm sure there was a knob, somewhere.

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