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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.
We're Getting the Band Back Together
Sunday. 1.24.10 12:04 am
Ok, so actually we're starting a band.

It's a girl band, so far we have one acoustic/electric bass, a banjo, and a mandolin. I've been put on drums, but we haven't got any drums yet. I was already planning to buy a bodhran, but I'm not sure how that will mesh with the other instruments. We also don't know how to play any of these instruments, but we're almost ready for the most important part of making a band, which is BAND PHOTOS. And a most triumphant video!

We do have several harmonicas, three standard flutes, several recorders, a fife, a bagpipe canter, three tin whistles in different keys, two wooden flutes, and a small acoustic guitar, which we can probably collectively play better than any of our band instruments.

I think we need Van Halen.

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Saturday. 1.23.10 1:14 am

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Real Life
Sunday. 1.17.10 10:54 pm
It never rains in Antarctica.

It never rains, and it never gets dark, and you never have to think of anything further away than dinner.

But now it's dark and it's raining and I had to get my car and drive through the dark and cold to get to the grocery store so I would have something to eat tomorrow.

At that moment I realized that I had returned to my real life. My life had been on pause for several months while I was in another dimension, and now I've returned. Fast forward the seasons a little bit, rearrange the Stop and Shop, everything else in Providence is the same except for us. Play.

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Heart of Darkness
Thursday. 11.5.09 4:08 am
"Well, you can leave me in charge of the camp at South Fork while you all go to North Fork," I said to J as we sat in the science office. It was 9:30 pm local Antarctic time, and the sun was blazing through the window.

"After a while I'd have a little fence made out of human skulls, all ready for when you got back."

"Oh, I would have thought that you were using our skulls to make the fence."

"All in good time, J, all in good time."

I was being silly, but he turned suddenly serious.

"You know, you seem all sunny usually, but there is something deep in you that isn't. It kind of scares me."

I didn't know how to take this comment, and I wasn't sure if he picked up on my reference, but I decided that it was an opportunity.

"Do you ever feel like some people have a darkness inside them? Darkness that isn't inside of other people?"

He looked at me askance.

"I don't mean 'evil'... not that kind of darkness... and I don't mean 'depth', because there are a lot of deep people with interesting thoughts who I wouldn't say have darkness within them."

Now he seems to know what I mean. He has a certain amount of darkness inside him, too. We start naming people who we think have darkness and the people who don't. We agree very strongly on certain people, like the Welshman [darkness!], though we can't answer exactly why. There are people with anger, yes, people with melancholy, people with melodrama, people with depression, people with fear of ghosts... we aren't talking about any of those people, we both agree. We aren't talking about the kind of darkness that swallowed Kurtz as much as we are talking about the kind of darkness that swallowed Marlow.

It's this kind of cosmic melancholy, this kind of deep stirring. It has something to do with ghosts, maybe, something to do with the Universe. Something to do with mortality, something to do with immortality. It isn't a good thing, necessarily, and people who don't have it aren't missing out on anything.... It's just a thing, this thing that's always there and mostly manifests itself by causing the afflicted to sit for hours just staring not at the world, but through it, seeing nothing. However sunny a person, occasionally you would hear his voice tremble or see a fleeting look in his eye and you would know that there remains deep within this person an area in deep and permanent shadow. Sometimes this person feels like it could reach out of his soul and consume him.

For all this, having lived with the darkness, he would no sooner give it up than he would his own life.

I don't have to explain this to J. He knows what I mean.

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So Long, Farewell. To Antarctica I go!
Monday. 10.26.09 8:09 am
Well guys, I guess this is it. I'm leaving for Antarctica in three hours. If you ever think of me out there on the cold, cold ice, starved for warmth and attention, you can write me a letter, poem, or work of great literature and send it to this address:

Lima Alpha Kilo
McMurdo Station
project G-440
PSC 469 Box 800
APO AP 96599-1035

Since it's a military address, it only costs as much as it would cost to send a letter to your nearest airport (if you're in the US). Yay.

Normally I would write something like, "See you next decade!" but hopefully I'll be able to get one more entry in from the base in Antarctica before I disappear into the field.

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Tuesday. 10.20.09 7:34 pm
Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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Last, Last, Last
Sunday. 10.18.09 12:20 am
I decided to write a poem.
Thoughts upon Leaving for Antarctica. October 2009.

Last, Last, Last

Last cotton-clad pillow, last sheets made of silk
Last ice cream with hot fudge, last gallon of milk.
Last phone conversation, last bathroom with doors
Last warm woolen socks on warm wooden floors.

Last fresh, tart fruit, last perfume that lingers
On the tips of fine, warm, dexterous fingers.
Last clean pair of jeans, last steam-drenched shower
Filled with four kinds of soap and lasting an hour.

I go to a land with sun never ending
Where Summer is naught but Winter pretending.
The Sun has no warmth, that pale light in the sky,
Thousands of miles, my thoughts, and I.

In icefields I bask, in solitude drown
The clouds hurry by, afraid to come down
Off we go with our armor, a thin wreathing of mirth
In pursuit of the wind-- to the Ends of the Earth!


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Saturday. 10.17.09 7:28 pm

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