Bioshock.

Inspired by Eric's most recent post on his thoughts on Bioshock -- though I warn you, spoilers abound! -- here, I thought I would write a few of my own. As for spoilers, I will avoid them until absolutely necessary, and then there will be great big warnings. Promise.

To begin with, everyone had told me that I would love Bioshock, and I absolutely did. It's so much of what I like in video games, from the compelling storyline, to twists, to the look of things, plain and simple.

Here's what I'm talking about...

Set in 1960, you're on a plane that crashes over the mid-Atlantic, and find yourself next to a lighthouse. Climbing into the lighthouse, you take a bathysphere down and it's a city beneath the waves. Completely in disrepair, it's an Art Deco-themed city where something clearly has happened, and, as you travel through the city, you piece together more and more of the story. The story, incidentally, is fantastic.

You get pulled along into this world, and get more attached to it the more you explore. The whole time, you're genetically altering yourself with what are called "plasmids," and give you the ability to shoot lightning, fire, confuse enemies &c. There are weapons involved as well, so more often than not, you're attacking with a "one-two punch" of plasmid + wrench / gun.

You're being led along this whole time by a voice over a short-wave radio named Atlas, and your goal is to find him and his family, and rescue him from Andrew Ryan, the creator of this city of Rapture. Ryan, meanwhile, is talking to you as well, calling you a "parasite," and what's fantastic is that Rapture was created as an Objectivist / Ayn Rand paradise. In fact, Ryan's first speech to you is:

"Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? NO says the man in Washington, it belongs to the poor. NO says the man in the Vatican, It belongs to God. NO, says the man in Moscow, It belongs to everyone. I rejected these answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture! A city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be constrained by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well!"

Please note the banner reads "Altruism is the root of all wickedness."

So of course it appealed to my Ayn Rand-ian loving heart. In this case, of course, Ryan is what you are fighting against, and as you experience what he does to stop / kill you, you feel yourself aligning more and more with Atlas and his resistance movement. It spurs you on. Atlas and his lovely Irish brogue and neat turns of phrase -- asking you "would you kindly" do such-and-such and saying he hasn't heard from you "in a dog's age." It's lovely, and particularly as a woman, you begin to look forward to his next communication. He is also a handsome devil, which is just icing on the cake.

It's almost as if you're developing this deeper relationship with Atlas, even though for most of the game, he's just out of reach, and you're traveling through to find him. I got excited, when he was right around the corner, and you begin to believe in him and his cause and crusade against Ryan. Below are the posters in his propaganda campaign against Ryan -- great design, too! -- and they tend to be in hidden places, so you get swept along in the underground nature of it as well.

Here be spoilers to follow! If you want to read -- Dad, I want you to play the game, so don't read! -- highlight the text below (it's colored white) to read it.

So, I thought the game would culminate in your finding of Ryan. It happened rather quickly. Well, not too quickly. But sooner than I would have expected. Herein lies the twist.

To begin with, you realize that you are Ryan's son, fathered by a stripper in Fort Frolic, or the "pleasure" area of Rapture. You've also been mentally conditioned to automatically respond to a command when someone uses the trigger phrase "would you kindly?" You realize pretty quickly that that is the particular phrase that Atlas has been using all along, making you progress further through Rapture.

Once Ryan is dispatched (he uses your mental conditioning to have you kill him -- it's a bit disturbing), you take his genetic key to prevent the city of Rapture from self-destructing. As soon as you fix it, though, Atlas comes on the radio -- phew! -- and tells you: "Good work, boyo!" This is comforting, until he starts to laugh maniacally, and his voice changes. He then reveals that he is not Atlas. Atlas was a cover-up for who he really is, a man named Frank Fontaine, Ryan's ultimate rival, who up until this point, you think was killed in a shootout a few years ago. Fontaine then tells you he brought you to Rapture solely to kill Ryan, conditioned you to hijack the plane to crash, and now has no use for you.

It is at this point that the game heads into high gear. It's great. My mind was blown. But -- in a sense, that doesn't fully express what I felt. I felt... betrayed. I had put so much trust into Atlas -- I had loved him, in the sense that you feel that devotion towards someone whose cause you follow, but also in the sense that I had developed a connection with him. Through all of the mess of Rapture, he was always there -- and then --- gone. Frankly, trying to kill me.

Eric speaks of Fontaine becoming someone that is beyond redemption -- beyond grace -- and must therefore be killed. I saw it more as a deep betrayal, and saw my first goal as escaping Rapture. If I had to kill Fontaine to escape, so be it, but if I could get out and free, that was fine. Of course, this isn't an option. You have to kill Fontaine -- but that comes later. As I progressed, Fontaine came on the radio more and more, his brogue replaced by a thick Bronx accent, mocking me.

Every time I heard his voice, it was like a knife -- this overwhelming feeling of how could you? How could you just use me? Wrapped up in expectation, this betrayal was deep, and it deeply affected the later part of my game. It's still hard to listen to movies people upload on YouTube when I hear Fontaine's voice, because that raw emotion is so tied to his voice.

I feel as if this isn't doing an adequate job to explain my feelings, but it honestly surprised me. I had no idea it would take ahold of me so much, and I'm still not completely sure I understand why. Of course, this makes me love it more. end spoilers

So, all in all, time well spent. It also stuck with me. I've been doing drawings and doodles of people and places in Rapture for the past few weeks, and you start to mull every single decision over in your brain -- which I would say is the sign of a great game. Lovely.

"ever forward"

Today, we did not realize, was Bid Day at American.  For those uninitiated into sorority culture, it comes after Rush, which is when prospective girls and sororities attend a massive amount of get-togethers in the attempt to find a good match with each other.  

Bid Day is a Big Deal.  It is when you find out which sorority picked you -- there is a complicated mutual matching process, but that is a post for another day -- and at a pre-arranged place, all the sisters gather and welcome you into the sorority.  There is, to be expected, a lot of screaming involved.  It was this particular screaming that caught our attention in the middle of "Colloquium: History of the United States 1865 - Present" because it was all around us and quite honestly, came out of nowhere.

It's a big class, and a significant chunk of them are girls, and I was the only sorority member there.  I realize that there is a nerd factor with History MAs that does not usually correspond on the Venn Diagram of Life with sorority membership, but it's not unheard of.   Still, everyone was rolling their eyes at "those sorority girls" and while I realize that's a typical response, I wasn't sure how to explain.  Of course, I mentioned that I was the only one there (laughing) but I couldn't really explain Bid Day. 

My Bid Day was fabulous.  There were only 4 of us, because we were the smallest sorority, and other groups had new member ("pledge" having all those connotations, it's no longer used) classes of 20-25, but we were 4.  We had to run the length of the soccer field, because that's where the Sigma girls were, but it was exhilarating, running all the way, and running right into screaming, hugging, happy girls who were so thrilled to have us.  Of course, I knew most of the girls at this point (and lived with some of them) but nonetheless it was wonderful.  

The next year, I helped at Rush and again, they had a low number of girls.  This was particularly painful, because we had worked so hard and met some wonderful girls.  But that's how the chips fall.  Everyone was depressed, and showed it on the field, before our new girls came out to meet us.   I realized then: Wow, they must have been sad last year too -- but I had no idea.  I had no idea that to get a class of 4 is a hard blow to the sorority, and painful doubly so because of all the other classes around you at that exact moment.  I just felt loved and so close to all my friends.

I was determined to not let the new girls feel this way.  We chanted and cheered until we couldn't scream anymore, because I wanted them to have the same experience that I did.  That welcoming sense, that love, that embracing (literally) that I remember as such a happy night.

So maybe I can convey what Bid Night means to me... but it's tricky.   

I can't explain that these bonds are deep, and the happiness I get when I think of the mini-sisterhood nights that I had with two of my closest friends, Jen and Hannah, while we watched Battlestar Galactica together.  It lives on, in our frantic emails back and forth between the three of us, trying to solve who the final Cylon was, and I love it.

Oh, and of course I texted cousin Jacqui, a Chi Omega here at American -- she sent back: "haha sorry we're so obnoxious."   Honestly, though?  It just made me happy.

inauguration

So this past Tuesday was Inauguration.  I debated going out of town, but eventually got convinced (it wasn't too hard) into staying.  In retrospect: how could I not?  I just had to bear the crowds, the cold, the standing.  It was absolutely worth it. 

It began with a slumber party at our friends' house, where we painted our nails red, white and blue and then woke up early.  We ended up taking a bus quite far down (National Cathedral to Farragut Square) and it wasn't crowded -- which we credited to the hour and the fact that MetroBus is kind of intimidating to tourists.  But not to us! 

So we made it, and made it in and out of Starbucks rather quickly as well.  Yes, we can!  Leah and Olivia are clearly excited:

Here I am on the Mall, apparently holding up the Reflecting Pool:

Once we got on the Mall, it was too cold to take off my gloves... (19°) so I texted with my nose! 

The View: Actually quite good, because a lot of people couldn't see the Capitol. :) 

This photo is me freaking out, as Obama is supposed to be sworn in at noon (it ended up being 12:05).  Only me.

The actual swearing-in...

Can you see how many people there are?  Also they stretched from building to building on the Mall.  It was... unreal.

This is Leah and me, excited after the actual swearing-in! 

...and finally:

We sat next to this sign the entire time, and this -- right after the swearing-in -- seemed just so perfect.  All in all, I'm not sure I can really find words to describe this.  It was such a happy crowd, and everyone cheering during the speech -- I cried! -- and the sweet melody of "Simple Gifts," which I associate with American ingenuity and a new birth -- a new birth of freedom, Lincoln would say.  Leah and I smiled during the speech, nudging each other when we sensed a Lincolnian turn of phrase (there were a few) or (in my case) when Gettysburg was mentioned.

I thought the speech was lovely.  I know some have said it was making jabs at the Bush administration, but I don't think that was the point.  At this point, it is about unity, about reclaiming our proud heritage and status as world leader -- not enforcer, but leader towards democracy and all those ideals that we espouse.  I thought it was more a call to service -- a call to abandon the failing ways, admit that some are no longer functioning, and use that intellect to forge a new path forward.  

I think unity is the key word here.  People booed when President Bush was on the screen, which I thought was in poor taste, both in regard to respect for the office, and the calls for unity.  Obama spoke firmly about "unity of purpose over conflict and discord," and I believe that speaks to the heart of the issue.  We need to move forward, united as a common people, embracing what I believe is our birthright of freedom and hope and change.  Hope and change are not just qualities that symbolize Obama, but rather what we know we're capable of.  Josh put it rightly that all candidates run on the platform of change, and this is no different.  The change, however, is not just in government, but in ourselves, and it's that change that we need to embrace. 

There is so much to this speech that I loved, including the winter metaphors, but particularly: 

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

I'm so happy I was there. 

...of course, more photos.

quarter century, take I

A hint of things to come-- I know I am remiss in updating, but hopefully this photo is worth it!

My 25th birthday is today, and we had a fabulous, 50s-themed party last night with the whole gang. 

Here is me:

oh, what a day

So today was -- as we have heard so often -- a watershed day.  I began it at 5:20 am, woken up by Josh, who shouted something about my civic duty.  After a shower and throwing on clothes that look relatively nice, we headed out the door, as polls here in Virginia open at 6am.  

6:05 am we walked up to our polling place, and there was already a parking lot full of cars, and a line out the door.  Yikes!

You may notice that, from this view, you can see the lines of alphabetical nature that we are standing in the A-G line.  You may also notice that my name begins with an H.   Josh noticed from the beginning, and only told me 10 minutes later.  Fortunately, there was no one really in line, so I was able to switch without much incident.

Inside were more lines:

But that's ok!  It's democracy in action!  Also, we only waited in line for an hour.   Here is my view looking back into the gym, waiting for Josh:

All around a success!  After work & class, we headed out to watch the returns.

It was fantastic.   There was so much energy with everyone so excited, and it was great to go somewhere where everyone was all together, this community of believers, if you will, all joined in rapture, watching the screens.   Perhaps especially meaningful because this is the first campaign I feel that I have been invested in from the primaries on.  

I know that that is what you're supposed to do, but I was a bit lukewarm in 00 and [Just kidding, I turned 18 in 2001! -Ed.] 04 and waited until the end to really make a decision, while this election I followed it pretty darn closely from early on.  I had a vested interest, and it was -- although exhausting -- incredibly satisfying.   I feel that I did my civic duty, and stood up and showed that people do care.  Young people care.  They vote!  I voted!

I'm just so very pleased.  I loved Obama's speech (and McCain's as well, actually) and I love that the main idea is action and change.   Not to mention hope.  I hope people still cling to these issues tomorrow, and know that they can be involved and change things.  

I have hope.

fascinating thoughts

Fascinating piece from an article I'm reading for class:

"This engendering of reading constructed a female reader (of novels in particular) lost in the realm of imagination.  Instead of subjecting her reading to reason and virtue, she was thought to enjoy dangerous illusions through identification with the fictional world."

-Stephan K. Schindler

in The Critic as Pornographer: Male Fantasies of Female Reading in Eighteenth-Century Germany (no, really!)

In other news, lovely Hannah was in town for the weekend, which meant lots of attempts at getting work done, but more happy time with friends.  Also, we barbequed today, as it was nice enough (60s) to cook outside, though not nice enough to eat outside.  

This week brings busy times, including an Election Night Slumber Party, which I'm sure will result in good times by all, but of course, all I can think of is the Election Night in Mad Men, so I will sit, sad that I not dressed nearly as well as Joan, nor being asked to dance by Paul Kinsey. (See here) Regardless!  I'm excited. 

things I love about DC

Today, in my quest to go to Arlington Cemetery for work, I got lost twice in Northeast attempting to find Rock Creek Parkway, and ended up accidentally driving through the Zoo.   Then I found it, actually rather accidentally, but fortunately, because it really is a lovely drive.  

There are parts of DC that I really like.  This is now one of them.  The trees were yellow-green-golden, and while driving it's twisting turning in a ravine with massive bridges spanning it, arches and old fashioned architecture.  Beautiful.  The road passes under the Kennedy Center, which reminded me of another of my favorite things, which is the terrace of the Kennedy Center.  It's so lovely, with the view of the Potomac and Teddy Roosevelt Island, and particularly in the right weather, it's just bliss.  The last time I was there was after the Jake Armerding show, and I could stare out at the view.

Hopefully I'll have photos soon, because they look beautiful.

quick update because I am tired and want to sleep

Wow, I am a terrible blogger recently.  Here is why:  I am in school.  It is far busier than I thought, and the mere fact that I am up at midnight-thirty, a fact which would normally not make me blink, is making me blink with sleepiness, and not to mention sadness at the fact that I have 3 fiction books but I am too tired to read any of them. 

All is well -- I gave a presentation that got good marks all around (though we have not yet received the actual marks, we are confident that we felt we presented a good product)

So it's been a very busy week/month(s).  Phew.  At least the weekend is coming up, but I am working at Arlington House for 8 hours this weekend, hopefully sewing a lot.  It means that I will have to refresh myself on antebellum / American Civil War era fashion (let's say late 1850s) which I am pretty good at, but have been confounded by stays and stomachers and robes à l'anglaise. 

...and now, to bed.  It is late, I must sleep, and possibly attempt to read un petit peu.  Oh, that reminds me, I have to choose an article to translate from Diderot's Encyclopédie.

lots of comics

So these past two weekends, I embraced my (not so) inner nerd, and went to two comic conventions.  Technically, the Baltimore Comic Con and SPX, the Small Press Expo.  Personally, I preferred the latter, but that's because even at BCC, I spent most of the time with the independent comic artists, and that is all SPX is!  Fantastic. 

I ended up meeting creators of some of my favorite comics, including Kate Beaton, David Malki!, Dresden Codak, Danielle Corsetto, A Softer World and some fabulous artists that I bought art from: Dave Perillo, Jonathan Case, David Peterson and a few others.  Wonderful.  Also I picked up a billion posters of DC Comic characters (free) a ring like the Flash, and things like that but I liked meeting all the artists better.  

As a result, I loved SPX.  It was funky, a younger crowd, less crowded, more tattoos, and everyone was totally sweet.  I had big long discussions with people about 18th century comics and things like that, and got Claire a sketch by Kate Beaton, whose history comics we both adore.

Here is all my swag!  If you click on the image, it'll take you to where I've put notes on what exactly things are.  Just know that they are all fabulous.

The Mos Eisley picture -- which I love -- is now in my bathroom (which, incidentally, I am remodeling and photos will come shortly) and I am debating where to put the ROM SPACE KNIGHT (the Wraith Brides one) poster, as well as the Softer World print (far right).  We'll see. 

Phew!  Back to work.  I have been drowning (slowly) in reading, but so far it is all going well.  

one year ago.

How strange it is to realize that today is my one-year anniversary of leaving my last job. It's strange and surreal, and today was rainy and strange anyway, so I suppose it added to it. I can't believe another year -- this time, my 24th -- has passed by, and how much it has been a time in the wilderness and purification by fire.

I started blogging.

I went to Twelfth Night.

I learned how to sew.

I learned how to live on my own.

I learned to be alone.

I learned to love Battlestar Galactica.

I was home for the holidays.

I got a new temporary job.

I went hiking.

I conquered hikes that had conquered me.

I went to the Family Reunion.

I saw old friends.

I ate lots of BBQ.

I line danced, and swung danced.

I travelled.

I biked.

I went to a beach.

I drove a convertible.

I lived alone for 2 weeks.

I went to Class.

I applied to grad school.

I got into grad school.

I read gothic fiction.

I fell in love with DC.

I met new friends.

I moved.

I read.

I cried.

I prayed.

I hoped.

I dreamt.

I learned.

Maybe this doesn't seem like much, but this year has been literally life-changing. It has meant the world to me, and has changed me so much that I'm not sure I recognize myself from a year ago. I've grown so much, in my way of looking at the world, and particularly my faith -- that "ever present help in trouble." It's hard to describe. I thought, in fact, that I would post an eloquent discussion of my changes, but I don't know if it's the place for that. I rather like how it's turned out.

Well, early in the morning, 'bout the break of day

I ask the Lord, "Help me find the way!"

Help me find the way to the promised land--

This lonely body needs a helping hand

I ask the Lord to help me please find the way.

bask in my stick figure skills!

Yeeeeep.

Please note: the amount to read may in fact be to scale (although only one article for tomorrow!)

the house on top of the hill

Today was my first day of orientation -- I am volunteering for school -- at Arlington House, the home of Robert E. Lee.  It is, as you would expect, in the middle of Arlington National Cemetery -- at the top of the hill, in fact.   I'd never been to Arlington before (house or cemetery) so it was an experience.  I hiked all the way to the top (well, stairs) and it was a sobering experience -- of course the path winds through the different sections of graves, and you can't help but read them as you go along.  Titles... names... wars... they all begin to blend together, and in a sobering way.  

The view from the top is utterly indescribable -- a view across the Potomac, and able to see most of the monuments as well as most of downtown.  As today was a clear day, you could see everything.  That being said, this view through faux marble/sandstone pillars also includes the Kennedy eternal flame, and a flag that is almost perennially at half mast -- or at least whenever burials are happening, which, as you can imagine, is quite a bit.  It checks you.   I'm not sure why.  I'm not sure if it had anything to do with the fact that it has taken me 2 1/2 years to make it to Arlington.   The fact that, even though I was there, I still could not bring myself to find graves of astronauts that I admired.   

I loved the house.  Everyone there is wonderful, and they gave me a behind-the-scenes tour, but I walk out and there is the cemetery.  I suppose it just makes you think, but the real point is I left thinking.  Quiet.  Thinking... and that's I think the most coherent I'll ever be about this, so with that: Fin.

if you give a museum studies major a case...

...she'll make a fake art exhibit.  Which is exactly what I did at lunch. 

I took army men, put glitter on parts of them, found a glass case at my desk, and wrote up copy about the exhibit.  Enjoy! 

Close up on one of the soldiers:

The entire installation - note the army man on top, with no glitter, clearly the "outsider" looking in.

...and finally, the copy.  I made it up, tongue firmly in cheek of course.  Make sure you click on it to read it fully!  Fantastic.  

hanna blocks our road

So today, as some readers may know, is when Tropical Storm Hanna makes her way through the DC area.   Because of this (and the pouring rain) Josh and I decided to adventure.  It was then that we noticed that our street had been closed off.  

We sat and watched cars driving down the road and then suddenly realizing there was a) a torrential flood and b) a cone in the middle of the road and c) caution tape.  It was fantastic, but, curiosity piqued, we ventured further.  Later, we wandered up to where a bridge crosses the creek -- we cross there to get to the Metro -- and the creek was incredibly wide and fast.  Unreal. 

This is looking down the hill (thankfully) from our house.  The creek on one side of the road has overflowed over the road leading into the creek on the other side.

Here is the waterfall from the road into the creek.  You can't really tell how high or how fast the water is here, but take our word for it:

Here is the physical proof that we were there - we are standing in some of the "shallower" waters -- which, being said, it was ankle-to-knee deep in the middle of the road, but don't worry Mom, not where it was fast nor very close to any edges.

I also hasten to add while it is not evident in these photos, it was pouring the whole time.  We got pretty soaked.  That being said, it was absolutely worth it.

first day of school

Well, yesterday was my first day of school at American.   Here it is, in roughly photographic chronological order.

All in all a great time.  I'm excited, but it is strange to go to a campus where you know literally no-one.  Ok, my cousin Jacqui goes to American, but this happens to be the semester that she's abroad in Rome.    I happen to know quite a few people that have gone to American, but none that are students now.

That being said, I give three hearty cheers for departmental orientations.  I met some cool people, and managed to mention that I liked 18th c. fashion to the professor who is studying 18th c. women's fashion as an indicator of roles between society and gender.  Yes!  Too bad I can't take her class. 

The classes I do have, however, are matching up to be great.  I've had, so far, Enlightenment, which is quite a bit of primary source material, and Historian's Craft, which is basically a course on historiography (the history of studying history -- i.e. studying interpretations of events, biases, etc).  My Public History Seminar is tomorrow (today) and I actually have reading to do -- yikes -- but I must mention one more thing before I go. 

This was a footnote (!) in my syllabus for Enlightenment.  Fabulous.  Click on it to see a bigger size. 

In all seriousness, though, I'm so excited. 

one month ago

I haven't posted in a while, but I think part of it is due to the fact that I can't get our trip out of my mind.   I can't believe that a month ago, I was here: 

That's Monument Valley, Arches National Park, and Dead Horse Point State Park.

adventures back in time

I realized I hadn't posted about my recent trip to Chelsea Plantation for a friend's going-away party (she is moving to Egypt!).   Chelsea -- or the house at least -- dates to 1709, with an addition a few years later.  Currently, it sits on 700 (!) acres on the Mattaponi River, though that is downsized from probably about 5000.   What's fascinating about Chelsea is that clearly it's an 18th century plantation that was lived in throughout the years, because it has additions: a boathouse, gazebo, greenhouse, pool - that all date to the 1930s and 40s.

These are all tucked away around the grounds -- the back of the house is a maze of overgrown boxwood that left about 8 inches of room to walk through.   Since it had rained, every time we walked through, drips of water from the boxwood leaves left trails across our dresses.   We explored the boxwood, which hides people quite well -- and found tiny cottages to live in, statues, and a croquet lawn.

Further on the property, there is a gazebo by the water, and quite possibly the most Atonement-esque element, was the 1930s spring-fed swimming pool.  Beautiful.  Right above the water.  Clear.  12' deep.  Diving board.  I can barely express how delicious it was to dive in.  

Of course, we had been told about the pool previously, and I was excited, as I had a retro-ish swimsuit to wear, but, of course I forgot it.  Fortunately, I had brought a halter top polka dot dress that already feels like a swimsuit, so we pinned up the sides so it fell to the tops of my thighs, and it looked like a retro suit.  It felt fabulous and ever-so-apropos for the pool.

From there, we moved down to the river, where there was a boathouse that was looking worse for wear due to hurricane Isabel.  A dock led down almost to the doors, but the hurricane had wiped out the last 5 feet (it seemed like something out of a Myst game), so we slipped into the (surprisingly warm) water and swam into the depths of the boathouse.  We scrambled back up onto the decks, which looked haphazardly stacked at strange angles inside, and looked out the windows that no longer had their bottom panes.   Heaven.

After the sun set, we ran through the boxwood and towards the abandoned greenhouse, overgrown and dark and mysterious.  It was magical.  Darkened sky, quiet, and etherial.  I'd give anything to go back.

For more photos - interestingly, pre-hurricane - look here.  Beautiful.

don't panic

I must admit, I have been remiss in posting -- especially considering I have so many photos from our voyages through Utah, but time has gotten away from me.  Also, I just realized I haven't discussed Chelsea -- all in good time. 

But now is just something simple.   It's turning out to be an interesting time of year -- for the most part, because I am headed back to school, but have yet to fully realize it.  Of course, filling out loan paperwork and realizing you haven't yet bought books (but have bought new pens and notebooks!) does bring it into sharper focus, but for the most part, I remain unaware. 

Today's mail brought a difficulty -- a miscommunication, that I will resolve tomorrow, but a scary miscommunication nonetheless.  Money related (the scariest kind of miscommunication).  I won't get into it, but suffice to say that it was unsettling.   I'm alone in the house now, as all three of my housemates are in the Outer Banks (not all together), and so I walked over to the couch and sat down, and started to pray. 

I looked up, and in the middle of the coffee table, was this: 

Wow.   I think it's rather neat when messages come in unexpected ways -- though I've never had it come via mug. 

a brief summary of events

Well, I have been away from the blogosphere, but now I'm back!  In the past few weeks, I went through Christian Science Class Instruction, which, in a nutshell, is an intensive two week class that teaches the basics of being a Christian Science practitioner.  It's long to explain, but there's a good explanation here, and this article explains the basics of a healing practice -- or just ask me any questions if you see me.

What was lovely -- apart from Class itself -- was the chance to spend two weeks, alone, in lovely St. Petersburg, Florida.  

This was my backyard:

There were these beautiful big banyan trees downtown. I biked down there a few times, then got a hold of a VW Beetle Convertible, and my speed increased dramatically.

On a beautiful day, I sat on this grass and stared up at the sky for ages.

The neat thing about St. Pete is that it looks, in certain sections that I frequented, like a cross between Hawai'i and Balboa Island.  All the docks for boats, the wide sidewalks and edges over the water, all made me miss Balboa summers something fierce.  That, accompanied with the palm trees (of course there are palms in Balboa too) and the light humidity made me miss Hawai'i.

I met this kid while biking along the Balboa section.  He pointed out a shark to me in the distant bay, told me how I could tell it was a shark, showed me the fish that he'd caught, took a heart out of the fish to show me, and then demonstrated how the dorsal fin on a Pinfish works (hinged!).  It was absolutely fantastic.

For the whole shebang of Floridian photographs, go to my flickr set.