**This is all that was written in the Roatan journal. The author and Josh Shields left the next day for the United States and arrived home to Boone, North Carolina at about 4am the morning after leaving. And no, the author did not get her bags searched, due to too long a wait at the Roatan airport and so was able to bring home a few fully intact conch shells for her family**

Day Seven

08/04/2005

After three dives yesterday, I decided that the night dive was a good place to stop for the trip ( I mean, what is going to top that?). The water is just as choppy today as it was last night as well. I hung out at the dive shop with Doug until Josh got done with his last few exercises on his Rescue Diver course (he did well, passed flying colors and all that). A couple of the cats decided to use Doug as a couch while we both took siestas on the outdoor benches. I woke up from a doze in time to snap a rather funny picture of the resulting cat-pile. We took a latish sort of brunch-breakfast at the diner/restaurant upstairs (George is our waiter. The menu usually consists of a choice of breakfast, lunch or dinner J, not much selection, but it is usually good food). I just had toast and orange juice, having already eaten some cereal at the house-thingy, but Doug likes to talk , and I really had nothing else to do, but I did take offerings of toast to the Evil Parroty beast, even though it pinched the absolute hell out of me earlier this week. There was a little green parrot beside the dastardly Macaw, and though it was rather shy, it was still nice enough and accepted some toast bits as well. There is a young malamute looking pup at the end of the shop’s dock that I think I’ve fallen quite in love with. One of the owners of the larger yacht has purchased this dog and tied it up away from the others in the shop, basically to teach it to be a guard dog. I don’t think I’m helping all much in its training, since I constantly play with it. It doesn’t bark at all, so I really can’t see what good it’s going to be as a vicious attack animal, but I think it has quite a ways to grow still, so perhaps it will reach it’s potential yet. I took it a dead crab while we waited, thinking that, like any other animal on this island, it was probably hungry. Apparently the shop/resturant/ hotel/aparment building where Subway Scuba is now located (at the time of this trip, Gillian is trying to get moved to Parrot Tree Resort, the real-estate being better) is owned by a major car/machinery importer family in Rio (or someother South American country, but I’m pretty sure it’s Rio) who use it basically to lose money as a write off on their taxes. Nonetheless, it’s really very pretty here and the restaurant is rarely crowded, but clean and very nice. After Josh got back in, we went back to Palmetto for awhile to put on long pants and much, much more bug-juice (something made from cactus) because Doug asked Mark if he wouldn’t mind taking us through some mangroves since I had never been (YAY! Big water tree thingies!). We went to the yacht club for some Hawaiian pizza (which took FOREVER). While we waited, Josh took me up to see the ‘view bench,’ which sits at the top of the hill above the club. It was beautiful, I could see all the way out over the shrimp-boat harbor and out into the sea. The pizza didn’t arrive until after Mark did, and even though Doug offered to buy him a beer, he politely abstained, saying he had to play soccer in a few hours (he apparently plays for a league team that is now in the semi-finals, working towards a big-time meet on mainland, meaning Honduras). We ate speedily when the food came (in the French Harbor’s defense, there is a music festable going on this weekend [Carib Fest] and they actually had more then two or three tables worth of guests for a change). And then picked up Mark (I think its actually spelled Marc) at the grocery store and followed him to his house to get his boat. During our wait time at dinner, we found out that Marc not only plays some damn fine soccer, he also used to work the same cruise line that Doug did doctor work for. The drive afterwards was over the ridge of the island, and isolated in the extreme, the view was gorgeous, though. Random large estates and houses made appearances among waves of grass, overlooking waves of salt. There were a number of horses (much like the one that met us on the dirt road from Palmetto) just barely to be seen. Marc turned out to live in a very rural, very poor part of the island, but aside from a few sideways looks, no one seemed to mind us either way. We met Marc’s son and a few of his nieces and nephews. Marc at work is a very hyper, jolly and loud guy; Marc away from work is more quiet, but still basically a happy guy. He took us out in a one engine craft that couldn’t have been more then 10ft long ( the only comment I could think of was to quote Princess Leia, “You came in that thing? You’re braver then I thought.”), but I loved every minute of it. Josh and I sat in the bow, legs stretched over the gas tank/can, salt spray blowing in our faces. Doug sat in back with Marc and talked about nearly everything. I get the distinct impression that Doug, much like my Gran, can talk to just about anyone. The ride over was through inlets and bays and the edges of local resorts, everything is on stilts, as usual for islands, I am learning. We passed a seafood packing plant that supplies Miami/Tampa with its lobster and shrimp. We snapped pictures like good little tourists and passed under two bridges that had crabs scurrying in the foundations. The entrance into the mangroves was shallow and nearly defeated our tiny engine, but we made it into the dank, soured and absolutely breath-taking passageway. It looked as if a polished glass walkway gave seed to the twisted trunks and swaying leaves. Mossy black slime coated the tangled roots to mark where the water reached at the peak of high tide. The occasional bird flitted around, dodging through the gloom. The rarer on dared to venture a snatch of song. We learned that the Voyager, the largest of the dive boats we’d been using all week, was in fact bought by Patrick second hand from someone that had found it floating around, probably and ex-smuggling or drug-running boat. Marc told us this after we’d seen a apparently abandoned boat floating around in the circular turn-around bay in the middle of the mangrove forest.

Day Six

08/04/2005

I must have eaten something that disagreed with me one of these last few days, because I spent most of last night in the loo. Today I’m just a touch naseous. We did a shallow sort of reef dive today and a chimmney dive with Gillain first off, and then stopped by this place called Parrot Tree for coffee and a muffin (we had Gatorade too, for hydration J). Josh and me held the boat up for a minute or two because we were off taking pictures. Parrot Tree was a cute little rich touristy place, but very beautiful, despite that. After Parrot Tree, we headed off for sandy, shallower water and a wreck named the Prince Albert. It was a smaller boat, just barely to be considered a ship, really. I went into the below decks and then out the next portal, not being very comfortable with it yet, and then under the way on the end of the boat. I was more comfortable the second run through, but I still didn’t like it as much as just drifting the reefs. Mark found us another seahorse and then a camouflaged ugly something or other on the first dive. Gillian took me down for some fin-pivoting/hovering/ buoyancy exercises before she would let me do the wreck, so I was perhaps much better prepared when the time actually came and she pointed at me to descend into the hull. After that, we came back to Palmetto while Josh had some more Safety Cert. Training (lost diver retrieval, I think). I ended up falling asleep in the hammock again after reading the chapter in the PADI book about night diving. Aellen ( a very pretty woman from somewhere in Europe, Scandinavia, I think) was our dive master for that dive and my dive-buddy since I am the rookie. We all got flashlights and headed out of the bay in the Moya. The water was very choppy, but it was lovely to be out at sea just as the sun was setting. There were hundreds of gigantic sea-urchins out, starfish (brittle stars, to be exact) and fish one doesn’t normally see during the day. The colors were much more vivid by torch-light then they were during the day as well. Aellen pointed out a small eel poking its head out of its’ burrow. Small swarming sea-lice came around our lights in clouds at one point. Bit the hell out of my wrist, but other then that everything left us pretty much alone. A lot of the fish were asleep as well, and it was quite amusing to see small parrot fish snoozing in the crevasse as we went by. I did a bit of underwater navigation so that Aellen can sign off on my Advanced Open Water Diver course as one of my ‘elective’ dives. Shauna and Scott did a bit of that as well. We caught a fish sandwich here at the clubhouse before we headed out for tonight’s dive, so I wasn’t hungry when I heaved myself on deck about 45 minutes later. The sea was rough, so I took a bit of water but I managed to get on-board fine. I did, however, have a rather sneaky and unexpected bout of mild sea-sickness on the way back, but was ok once I’d gotten back on the shore and had a cat mildly assault me for an ear-rub. It’s odd to have someone make my bed for me everyday, but I don’t mind J. there is only sheets on the bed, but I don’t expect they often get cold-blooded gringos like myself here. It’s lovely to wake up at about 4 in the morning and be chilly. I think we’re eating here tomorrow, the wife of the owner here told us that there would be a Jamaican band here tomorrow night and an Italian fiddle/violin player the night after that. Shauna apparently passed her ’snorkel-test’ quite well and dove with us this morning , but claims to remember nothing of the night before. Scott seconds that, but remembers nothing himself either. The only person able to give a relatively clear version of events is Aellen, who thinks the whole thing hysterical. I’m exhausted, but quite happy.

Day Five

08/03/2005

This morning I forwent breakfast in favor of sugar-laden coffee and orange juice ( or the closet thing here). Our first dive, Antonio (Josh’s instructor) came with us, so did the rest of the D.M.I.T. nits J, they’re good kids, if a bit spastic. We were invited to attend Shwana’s snorkel test tonight, which is when a newly certified dive master takes a turn in the booze-snorkel (a phrase of my own devising) and is given straight liquor. So tonight we’re heading out to the West End to watch the fun. Every morning Josh’s dad wakes the both of us up with an ‘ode to the place we’re at’ as I call it, I think I might ask him to do a little Shakespeare, it makes me feel less guilty about missing the sunrise J. Our first dive was a place called ‘Fish Soup,’ named so because it has about a bazillion fish in it, around it, and though it. I’m going to put links to all the fish I’ve seen on my live-journal so that everyone else can see them too. Josh’s dad went out for a second dive at 11, but I opted to stay behind and play with the camera, taking about 100 picture of the local crabs, flowers, birds and lizards. I also snapped a few of doing part of his pool work for his dad. We had lunch above the store again, but I don’t know where we’re going to dine for supper. Someplace on the West End, I suppose. Josh’s dad didn’t go with us on the third dive of the day (my second), but admonished Josh to stick to me and me to stick to Mark. This was a drift dive, and we had to get the boat to come pick us up afterwards. Clifton didn’t pilot us this trip, a friend of Mark’s (or a distant relative, not sure which) did. He was a nice guy, we ended up giving him a ride part of the way home. There were two seahorses on this last dive, one red one (solid red) and one greenish one. This dive tired me out, having to fight against the current the whole way. The water was a little cloudy, but not bad. I came across a perfect little garden-flower-like group of fan/tube worms. There was also another huge crab. Doug nearly gave me a heart-attack during our first dive, a barracuda swam by and he rapped me on the shoulder from behind. I nearly peed in my wetsuit J. I’m actually borrowing Melissa’s (Doug’s girlfriend) wetsuit, it’s a back-zip 1mm and actually fits quite well. The dive kids and boat people sing the entire time we’re out and it’s hilarious to hear Mark offering the red-head ‘ladies’ and Shauna’s finger-shaking exclamation of “Now don’t you be offering him ladies!” The red head and Shauna are a steady item, and it’s amusing to watch them play around. I talked to Mum, Dad and Nome last night on the clubhouse phone, everything back home appears to be going swimmingly, and, as e-mail is the only reliable way I have to talk to the family, I was admonished to send more. I’m going to be taking a brief swinging nap in the hammock now and write more when I get back tonight. Josh and I can only make 1last, shallow dive on Saturday, since we’re flying back on Sunday morning , but I am going to use my remaining time to take a full camera of pictures and by some souvenirs for my family………………………………
I can’t figure out if it was because I fell asleep in a hammock or because I’ve spent the last week on a boat, but I woke up sick to my stomach, everything moved, the floor, the bar in the kitchen, the lights, everything… I spent most of the night discreetly in the head, and eating peppermint tic-tacs. We didn’t end up going to the West End with the dive group, but instead stopped at a place called Rick’s American. Apparently it is what passes for a sports bar around here. We were the only people there besides a local couple a table over. The entire staff was female, apparently Rick had a place to come for drinks and look at waitresses, harmless sort of guy with a beer-belly. Doug takes great delight in having someone new to relate childhood stories about Josh to. Josh just sighs, smiles and laughs. It was 10pm, before we left to go home, and because my last boat dive of the day was such a hard one (I was exhausted) I was more then happy to call it a night. I guess that we’ll just have to hear about the one world-wide dive master initiation rite as it applies to our little Shauna. Mt sunburn is truly ferocious, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the baby’s lotion I brought with me is actually not only vitamin E enriched (don’t ask me what that has to do with anything),but also contains copius amounts of aloe vera. Right now I’m listening to one of Doug’s Sinatra cds while I finish this and getting ready to shower for bed.

Day Four

08/02/2005
This morning I didn’t wake up until Doug came down the hall to rouse Josh and I. My contact was bothering me somewhat (right eye) but it settled down after my first dive. Today we rode out on the Moya with Mark and his nephew again. We dove Mary’s Place (note: since this journal, I read an article in the Scuba Today magazine about Mary’s Place, apparently it is quite the Big Deal) first off, making it, at 110 ft, the deepest place I have ever dived. Mary’s Place is a natural rift in the coral reef, about 4 ft wide and quite a large number of times deeper , it is one of the most spectacular on Roatan’s reefs. We dove the deep end first, Doug following Josh, who followed me. I followed Mark. He stopped twice to point out fan-worms, very pretty, delicate, feeders extended like silk flowers from a lipstick case. He tapped them gently with his pointer-stick-thingy and they zipped down to nothing, leaving only a tiny tube of black body left. We spotted another jelly off the edge of the wall. Josh had to give me another weight while I was down, but I did not break the surface this time. I have sunburn across my shoulders, but that is the only part of me that appears burnt, the only real difficulty is the huge amount of sand fleas that seem magnetically attracted to my body. I had to go through a fan of ocean plants (I assume) to enter Mary’s Place, but apart from one or two tank bumps on rocky outcroppings, I didn’t manage to touch anything. The boat ride back was lovely, the Moya is quite a bit smaller then the Voyager. It bounced with every tiny wave and seemed like immortality with an engine. I chatted with Mark on the way back, who has 5 brothers and 5 sisters, a few of whom live in Miami and other parts of the States. Josh is taking the Rescue Diving course here, so I opted to wait out the second dive of the day and nap on and off by the pool. I got to talking with one of the little dive masters in training about school and everything and she mistakenly thought that Josh and I were dating, but was quite embarrassed to discover that we’re simply friends and apologized profusely, but I didn’t mind, poor chickie. Cute girl J. during my brief cameos of conciousness, I saw Josh working on his skills and crabs scuttling away under my eye. There is a small attention-whore of a kitten that is taken care of by Gillian in the shop. It is white with red spots and yellow-green eyes and huge batty ears. We ate in the resturant above the shop, some sort of beef-like meat in a rather good sauce with mashed potatoes and a small salad. The second dive for me was nearly as fabulous as the first, I saw three moray eels, a huge crab and innumerable fishes. We docked at a Coco Beach boat, with a total of 12 divers from that boat alone, there was a huge seahorse found by the dive master from the Coco-people, at least double the size of the one we saw yesterday. I’m exhausted, but happy. I made a brief surface during our three minute safety stop, but I could fix it easily and did. A few trumpet fish later and Mark zipped away on his motory-bike a contraption seemingly held together by dive stickers and luck. We ate here at Palmetto tonight, and afterwards Josh and I lay on the dock under the canopy and watched the stars dance above us through the opening in the center. We talked about serious things, but later, looking down into the water I saw blinking lights and rushed back down the pier to grab handfuls of sand and cause mini-explosions of light.

Day Three

08/01/2005

"This morning I woke up at 6:30am (or pretty close to it) local time and couldn’t imagine how I’d possibly slept as long as I had , what with all the noise the local fauna were making. Dr. Sheilds was already awake and drinking copious amounts of coffee, checking the news in his laptop (the King [?] of Saudi Arabia died) and muttering to himself. I find he tends to mutter a lot but hates it in other people J. Josh slept for another hour or so, but I set down to a cup of coffee myself. The milk here is so pasteurized that it doesn’t even need to be refrigerated until it is opened and can be found sitting on the shelves of the local gas station. Our first dive was delayed by unexpected car troubles. The first time it stalled, we were lucky enough th be able to roll it down a hill and pop the clutch… the second time we couldn’t get it started at all. A rather large truck full of locals stopped to give us a hand , taking it in turns to roll it and look under the hood. Nothing worked. We thank the men and wave them on. Josh and I pushed the vehicle out of the way onto the side of the road. Even then all Josh’s dad does is call it a piece of shit. I would have roundly cursed it and set it ablaze, but then again, I give more credit to inanimate sentience then most. We were given a lift by a younger local man, who looked to do maintenance, to the dive shop where Dr. Shields gave him a five “for petrol” -here I must pause and comment that my attention has been captured by eight tiny brown bats who are hanging against the screened in window and the adjacent rafters of the porch wall; now there are but six, and they chit sharply occasionally at each other and extend their right (my left) wings. They swing back and forth slightly and open their tiny mouths, a pale glimmer of color against all their fur. Having jostled and jockeyed for position for the last ten minutes, they now seem satisfied to simply hang upside down and snooze- and we entered the dive shop to call Avis and meet Gillian, who seemed a very nice British lady who takes great pleasure in adopting locals (non-human animals, anyway) and kidding the Shields about their “rookie” friend (that would be me). Our ship is captained by Mark and his nephew. Mark is also one of the dive masters for the two dives today, since Gillian has taken a charter and will be gone. Mark is a local black man who is cheerful and extremely helpful, especially to the “rookie.” I opt not to roll of the side and instead put on my snorkel gear jump in. Mark’s nephew handed me my gear and I put it on in the water, which I am more comfortable doing anyway. Our first dive is chaperoned by 4 dive-masters-in-training all tanned and athletic 20-somethings who kid each other about everything and swim like fish. My first dive has more fish then I have ever seen flitting through it like the myriad figments of my unconscious. We spot two barracudas, but they are gone before I have time to properly freeze. Everyone is concerned about me, first-time ocean-virgin that I am. I end up hitting the surface too early and having to add extra weight. Ten was perfect in the quarry, but is a time and a half too light here. I see brain coral and things I have no name for, parrot fish, purple colored pipe/tube shaped things and fan corral. I have no problems with dry mouth this time around, but am savagely hungry when we reach the surface. The equipment on these dives has an integrated weight system, not the belt that I am accustomed to. Our boat is the Voyager, a very nice little speedboat-like affair. Mark sits on the prow for the ride home. We rinse off the wetsuits and ourselves in the pool (walk to edge, drop towel, jump in) before pulling off our second skins and pulling on a pair of shorts or a t-shirt. We hang our equipment up to dry and forgo the second dive scheduled for the day , opting instead to grab a quick bite at the yacht club (fancy name, middling style). The waiter is extremely polite, if tolerant, and the view and the meal are both lovely. At one o’clock, we take on a second dive, having had ample time to both eat and digest and play in the shop pool. I surface early for the second dive, though this time Dr. Shields comes up with me and pulls me back down. I entered the water the same way I did last time, me first, gear second. This time the rampant-nits do not join us (trainee dive-masters, whatever), so it is only Dr. Shields, Josh and I. (and Mark too, of course) he shows us a seahorse with its tail anchored around a stick-like object. It is a dull shade of brick red and creamer and seems non-committal about our presence. Dr. Shields spots a jelly-fish and pulls me over to see it. It oscillates in between looking like a wrong-sided eggcup and a fringed lamp-shade. I am a little more independent on this dive, taking minor side jaunts off to the side to peer at things. -Emily is crying again, she’s six months old and very tenacious. The daughter of Palmetto Bay Plantation’s owner (where we’re staying) , Gary, and a 20-something (high range of 20) girl from a nearby island, Emily’s prime occupations seem to be bouncing about in a wheeled child-seat/ scooter thing chasing the resort’s dog, Groucho, and slowly enthralling her father to do and cater to exactly everything she commands- I sit back backwards on the on the tiny rim-level platform of the Voyager on her way home, wind whipping my braid back and forth and the slight movement of the waves bouncing the boat. I’m a little peeved that I surfaced a second time, but this is only my second ocean dive, and there are bound to be occasional problems. The doves coo intermitted-ly during the afternoon, the air is hot and sticky and I am being eaten alive by bugs anytime I forget to spray myself on any inch of my body. I am having the time of my life. Even this morning, when I was afraid to show it, for fear that Dr. Shields would KILL me, I grinned the entire way the entire ride into town (I opted to ride in the back, leaving Josh to attempt communication with our driver. I gave a finger-salute (not the naughty one, the manly one) to people we pass on the road and kept dropping my shades down to take a look at local and distant scenery. We ate at a place on the West End of the island called Eagle Ray’s. That end of the island is more for visiting college students and world-hopping youngsters on a budget, so everything is very clean (though still noticeably poor) and touristy, Eagle Ray’s sits out on the end of a pier and has a spectacular view of nearly everything on the coast. Doug, (as I have been told to call Dr. Shields, since he is on vacation and doesn’t want to remember the hospital) did a pit stop at the gas station on the way home ( I had the coconut grouper) and gave me four 1 lipre for Nome(1 lipre = 1/18th of a dollar) which is about $0.25 here in the States. "

Day Two

*this entry has the same date as Day One, because Day One i was too frickin' excited to be there that keeping a journal didn't occur to me. so i went back and wrote down a paragraph for the first day*

7/31

"Tomorrow I would have been a newly certified Open Water Diver for 14 days. Two weeks ago, I passed my written test and received my temporary card. I can float, swim, snorkel, fin pivot, navigate, rescue someone by passing them an octopus, and most importantly, breathe underwater.
I accepted an invitation from Josh Shields to go for one week to Paradise and spend most of it underwater, swimming with the fishes. Wanting to pursue something in the marine science field, I managed to convince my parents that I would undoubtedly need to learn to scuba dive eventually anyway. That way, if I absolutely hated it, I could go ahead and kiss the ocean life goodbye. I didn’t hate it. I loved it instantly, even despite the fact that I had no prescription mask and to be content with wearing those evil, horrid, uncomfortable contact things. My passport come in time, with a blazing of joy on my part, as it had taken me five tries to get the damn thing sent off (heaven forbid that people at a courthouse actually tell you what you need in one trip). And on July 30th, 2005, I loaded my duffel, my backpack and myself into Debbie Shield’s Mercedes along with Josh , Josh’s Dad (not yet sure if I should call him Doug or Mr. Shields; I call Josh “Shields” most of the time and now I get one 18 year old answer and one 50-ish year old answer). We stay for one night at the nicest hotel I have ever been in (the Westin in Charlotte). I sleep in the other, and then am waken up at 5:53am (I checked) by Josh’s dad knocking on my door. Mr. Shields is a very hyper man, hardly even pausing to sleep when he gets interested in something, although I have seen him close his eyes in three thousand different places and be instantly adrift for five minute cat naps. Apparently being an E. R. doctor enables you to come with an on/off switch that any lack of movement triggers. We’re supposedly here so that he can “relax,” but for all that he stops dead every five minutes, grins at Josh and proclaims, “We’re back in Paradise Josh-o,” he doesn’t show any sign of slowing down. Fine by me. I can’t sleep anyway, I might as well be doing something. I have never flown before. And now in one day, I have been in the air from 8:15am in Charlotte , to 11:45am in Atlanta, to 2:30(ish) in Miami, I have been in the air for nearly an entire day, I like the take-off, the landing, and, of course the turbulence. I do not enjoy endless time spent trying to futilely pacify my inner ear. So I spent most of my time asleep, or waking up Josh occasionally (as he flew the first time when he was 1week old, and spent most of his life at the Crown room in Atlanta, it seems) to point out interesting land or sky prettiness below, around or above us. I worked very hard for this trip, this chance, and now, considerably lighter on the monetary-ness, one holy duffel bag and one annoying-seat-hanging passenger later, I am here. Roatan, Bay Islands, Honduras. Sarah E., future world leader (or nemesis, dunno yet) has left the country for the first time and is about to do something most people never even think about: dive the Caribbean."

as a blogger exclusive, i'm going to start posting my journal from Roatan here and only here (sure they'll be a link on my LJ account, but the text and the real deal will be here... though i might have to link this account to my LJ account, cause i can't put pictures on this account...) yeah, yeah, i know it's a year overdue... but i thought that it might be a fitting final surprise for this journal.

with my love, day one:

7/31

"The planes land us in the sweltering heat, you can feel it in the air you breathe, coming up from the tarmac. We wait in immigration, get put in the wrong line and have to merge back.
My very first passport stamp.
I am immediately struck by all of the new plants I see when we -finally- gather our luggage and exit the airport (and I use the term 'airport' loosely) . All of the signs are first in Spanish and then in English. I’m in the back seat, holding onto both overhead handles (we are driving a sort of Jimmy looking affair that has already stalled twice on us and pauses to consider before consenting to change gears). Everything here is poor; the people, the homes, you name it. Everything but the view, everything but my interest. I can’t get enough looking, everything is new… Welcome to Roatan."

fin

okay, i've decided that as soon as i hit 200 posts on this thing i'm going to retire it. i'm at 177 now, and after i post this, i'll be at 178. after i stop posting on this, i'll be posting solely on my livejournal account (username: silberfeuer)
news:han gave me her cold, actaully there is a possibility that i've had a mild cold for the past few weeks and have been treating it like allergies (benedryl child's allergy chewables :)) and gave it to han and then she gave it to me after it incubated and mutated in her body (urk) and now i'm sick, it's one of those odd biology people ideas i had... but i body slammed a quiz in christianity through 1500 this morning and then crawled back into bed, and yes, i am goign to class this afternoon. i just finished listening to a couple of my guitar teacher's friends play some of their contest pieces. they're all grad students, and my teacher's kinda cute in a frat boy sort of way... but he gave us another piece to learn before tuesday... i'm really looking forward to this one, it's a malaguania piece (like the one i played in sophmore marching band). i can't wait to hear how it sounds in ensemble... i'm thinking about joining guitar choir next semester, since i need and ensemble credit for KKPsi...
han is pledgeing to my fraternity, go her, even though me and Fraiser (the roomie) both wailed and screamed and told her she was an idiot to do so. she never listens to me... actaully, i had an awesome time being a pledge...
i finished a piece for the bathroom, it's of a mermaid in reds and whites and yellows and oranges (think of koi) on a aqua water pattern background with some passages from the king arthur book i got a few months ago, i went over it with gold touches and then put about two or three coats of finish on it and it looks pretty good... i don't know how it'll hold up to the mositure in the bathroom, but if it shows signs of decay or drippage (it's a water colour) then i'll move it...
been working out at mike's on mondays and thursdays and -i'm not going to be modest- it's starting to show :) started watching the new season of Boston Legal with the guys (it's got william shatner in it, the only reason we're watching a show about lawyers) and i brought Fraiser's new kitten over to play while we watched, he's a big hit with the guys, they all love him to death :) tylers' new roomie jason acts rather stiff towards me, but i guess it must seem a bit odd to him how all the guys treat me like one of them... if he'd just stop trying to treat me like a girl, it wouldn't be nearly so akward for him... but even he cooed over the tres adorable spinosa (the kitten)

from quizilla by way of permar

What Color Are You?

*couldn't paste picture, but it's of a white rose :)*

WHITES are motivated by PEACE, seek independence and require kindness. They resist confrontation at all costs. (Feeling good is more important than being good.) They are typically quiet by nature, they process things very deeply and objectively, and they are by far the best listeners of all the colors. They respect people who are kind, but recoil from perceived hostility or verbal battle.WHITES need their quiet independence and refuse to be controlled by others. WHITES want to do things their own way, in their own time. They ask little of others, and resent others demanding much of them. WHITES are much stronger than people think because they dont reveal their feelings. WHITES are kind, non-discriminate, patient and can be indecisive, timid, and silently stubborn. When you deal with a WHITE, be kind, accept (and support) their individuality, and look for nonverbal clues to their feelings.

broke up with M, well, it's not that we broke up... we kinda seperated, you know? there was no big fight, no throw-down screaming match, we just sat down, talked about it and were like, you know what? we're not going to make it in the long run: S doesn't want kids or marriage, M wants kids and marriage... S wants to go live on a boat for the rest of her life and possibly rule the world (i'm working on it), M wants a white picket fence, a decent job, and a yard. S is anti-social and dislikes people, M is a people person and hanging out with the guys is his idea of hi-jinks (they're my guys too, but i mean like constantly, i usually creep away and do my own thing)...
c'est la vive...
too bad we still love each other :( and neither one wants the other to change... damnable luck, i find a decent-read unbroken- guy with whom i fall madly in love with who wants what i have never wanted, and he finds a girl (me) who loves manga and anime and playing video games and reading sci-fi/fantasy, who gets along with his friends (so much so that they're now my friends too, seriously, one big love-fest :) ) but who doesn't EVER want to settle down or EVER have kids...
we drive each other crazy...
we pinkie swore to get married when we're fifty and he isn't married and we still like each other... ( i take pinkie swearing very seriously... i've had my pinkie broken, i know how much it hurts :) ) that means i'll be out of the danger zone (women in my family hit menopause about 45) and we'll both be close to retirement and therefore all we'll have to do all day is sail around on the boat and run from cannibals...
ain't unrequited love grand?

and then there were three...

Patches died early friday morning.
i covered her in a red flannel blanket while i waited for my father to come home and laid on her still body and cried.
mum says she probably had cancer, since she lost so much weight in so short a time and appeared to not be able to eat. we thought at first she was just hot, but as time went on i would take anything she would eat up to the pasture and try to coax her into taking some.
she was the friendliest of the herd, the one who loved children and pretzels, with a long haired calico pelt and big dropping ears. large, calm, intellegent eyes and that distinctive roman nose.
she had arthritis in her knees, and they would pop everytime she flexed them... when i checked for rigor mortis that morning they creaked agian and i was undone.

my beloved.

every time one of them passes it's like burying children. i could never be brave enough to bring a life into the world knowing one day i might lose it.