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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 Weather 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 Writings
Poetry The Tree and the Telephone Pole The Spider I Do Not Know Their Names The Mouse Blindness La Plante The Moon Today I am Young A Night Poem Celestial Wandering Siren of the Sea If I Were a Dragon To the Dreamers Leave the Sky The Honor of the Oyster Return From San Diego War My Study Defeat A Late Summer's Night Of Dragons and Men Erebus The Edge of the World The Race Dragon's Spirit The Snake's Terror Spirit Island Metaphysics Metaphysica Transponderae Metaphysics and the Middaymoon Of Adventures in Foreign Lands The Rogue Wave: The Unedited Version Adventures in the PRC Voyage of Discovery Drinking the Blood of Goats Ticket for a Phantom Bus Os peixes nadam o mar Three Villages Far Away The River Weser Children I Should Have Kidnapped, Part I Let's Get You Out of Those Clothes Radishes Three-Piece-Lawsuit If Underwear Could Speak 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 | Immigration Friday. 5.18.12 7:19 pm I stand in a line with all of humanity. Not just the kind of humanity that you see at the DMV, no, a whole new definition of humanity including Africans, Asians, Europeans and Americans in all state of dress and all stations of life. A large African guard lets us in one by one after peering into our personal effects. We file upstairs, where a hard-faced woman sorts us to the right and to the left. She is yelling at a middle-aged Korean. A gauche! A gauche! she shouts (to the left, to the left). The woman is trying to explain something in English but the french woman keeps shouting over her. A gauche, a gauche, no no no, we are busy here, busy busy busy, in English. The Korean woman persists. Finally her words penetrate the frenchwoman's shouting. "Ah," says the french woman, her face changing completely, "In that case, to the right. I see what you mean now." I go to the right. There is a long line. There are large African women wearing turbans and sitting in chairs, fanning themselves. Old people, fat people, everyone who can't stay standing long enough to wait out the line. A frenchwoman yells at them: "If you never get in the line, you will never be seen!" This new frenchwoman is at once brash and affable, brash when speaking to us, affable when speaking to her many co-workers who drift in at five-to-ten minute intervals despite the fact that it is past 1:30 in the afternoon. Our names are called. A waiting room. I'm in some kind of special group but I don't know why. One by one our names are called again, each one butchered so much that its owner can hardly recognize it as his. Each person disappears behind the same blue door that slams with a crash. Friendly cartoon posters warn us about Hepatitis and female genital mutilation in a variety of languages. Don't go to work if you are sick. Wash your hands. Every so often our old friend from the desk comes in with new clueless Japanese people to deposit in the waiting room. My name is called. I disappear behind the blue door. The man pushes me against a wall. My height is measured. A piece of paper appears before my eyes with tiny writing on it. I read the sentence in french. Do you have insurance? he says. Yes, I say. God, I love it when they say yes, he says. I stand on a scale, still holding all of my paperwork. My weight is taken. Stand in these footprints. Read these tiny letters from afar. Read them again. Go through this door and take off your shirt. Do what? Take off your shirt. And your bra. The door closes. I am alone in a small room with doors on either side. I hesitate, and then I take off my shirt and my bra. The sign on the wall says to lock the door behind me. I lock it a moment before someone tries to open it. I hear him laughing about how none of the ladies ever wants to take off her shirt. I sit alone, my shirt draped over me. For the first time in years, I am actually frightened. I try to focus on the absurdity of the situation before I hyperventilate. The other door opens. Several squat nurses are there with an X-ray machine. I am instructed to face a low wall panel. She pushes me into it, first guiding and then smashing. I am instructed to stay still. "Waiting room!" she yells, and I stumble back into my two-doored room, confused. I put my clothes back on. Is this the waiting room? Or does she mean the larger waiting room? I venture back out the original door. There is a young Japanese man there. "Do I go in here?" he asks in body language. "I have no idea," I say in French and English. We exchange a look that needs no translation. My name is called again shortly and I go into a doctor's office. She tells me that my lungs look fine and asks to see my vaccination record. I give it to her and she wonders what in God's name I did in 2005. Semester at Sea, I explain. I try to explain the program. She is intelligent and kind. She asks me how I like living in France. I shrug, not expecting the question. It's great, I manage to say, and then I am dismissed. I flicker a smile at an Iranian man as we watch a confused Korean girl. Are you allowed to smile at Iranian men? My name is called again and a lady in a dirty white lab coat gives me a piece of paper. I go into an adjoining room and a woman pulls out some paperwork that I did six months ago. "Stamps." This is her greeting. I pull out 369 euros worth of official stamps. She puts x's through all of them and sticks them to my paperwork. She hands me the Holy Grail... my residency card, for which I have been waiting for more than 8 months. "What stamps?" asks my Iranian friend. I explain to him in French. He looks confused. The woman calls his name. Good luck, I say. He smiles. I walk out of the building into the sunshine. I present my card to the office secretary, victorious. My goodness, she says, we had better get started on the renewal process for next year. 5 Comments. AND YOUR BRA » middaymoon on 2012-05-19 12:41:57 I thought you got back from France already....? » Nuttz on 2012-05-19 01:33:38 ^ Yeah, residency?? » Unicornasaurus on 2012-05-20 08:47:28 Yeah, I saw Melancholia on the big screen... the camerawork made me nauseous though, so I couldn't really devote all my attention to it. X| I remember disliking how the movie portrayed everybody as an awful person... » randomjunk on 2012-06-03 09:14:45 burn your bra. grow you armpit hair. » dont-see on 2012-06-04 04:19:47
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