A strange dream of mine. Many thanks to witticaster for letting me talk to her so I could get everything down. I've reposted the edited log here for ease.

So there were two brothers who lived on a farm. One of them was the smart one who talked a lot and looked like Bill Murray. The other was quiet and a little slow. The smart brother was usually ragging on the slow brother, not really giving him the proper respect and generally being a bit of a dick. I remember them driving somewhere, and that's when the slow brother becomes the Wendigo. There are no obvious physical changes in the slow brother, and he told the smart one that he had something he wanted to show him or had an idea for some new project involving chickens.

I remember them driving, and they stopped on their property where the road cuts between two fields of golden grain. There's a pretty blue sky above, and the smart brother is talking about how great he thinks the slow brother's idea sounds even though it's clear that he's not taking it too seriously. That's when the slow brother reveals himself by violently assaulting the smart brother. This is about the time where the dream becomes a musical and I wish so badly that I could remember the tunes and words to the songs.

I remember them being in a two-story rustic house with a catwalk and atrium, vaguely like my own house except nothing but hardwood floors and very sparse furnishings. Anyways, there was a frantic aria in which the smart brother, who doesn't quite get what has happened to the slow brother, pours out his emotions through words everything that he hates about his brother and his immense frustration. At that point, the slow brother/Wendigo grabs the brother and throws him off the catwalk. The brother spits a few last words of hatred before expiring, perhaps due to his back-breaking or something like that.

Before, it had all been third-person camera angles. Now it's first-person camera angles. As the story progresses, I start to believe that I am the slow brother/Wendigo. The Wendigo finds more and more people that he compulsively pushes off the catwalk to their death, and a pile of bodies accumulates in the atrium. Toward the end of the dream, he pushes a horse off the catwalk where it instantly dies. It becomes apparent at this point that this is the Wendigo's preferred method of hunting because the pile of bodies is sustenance. It doesn't show this (or I don't remember) but the Wendigo has already starting eating some of the bodies. However, this is the end of the dream and because all of these people have died, it is also clear that local authorities are going to soon find the Wendigo out and deal with it (or rather, the Wendigo's host) accordingly by slaying him. At that point, I woke up with a start and was a little surprised to find out that I was not, in fact, the Wendigo.

Small rant, but also an excuse to use some of the more clever things I have seen on the Internet and at bad_rpers_suck

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Dear You,

I do not have the patience, the time, the energy, or the motivation to deal with your shenanigans. I call them shenanigans because I like to think that you are a B-movie Puck running around with vaguely menacing intentions who can be easily thwarted by a marginally more clever character the writers slapped together because they just didn't care about you or anyone else in the movie. As a matter of fact, said writer wouldn't mind if you, little B-movie Puck, got bent and drowned along with all the other characters in a small water-filled ditch.

But I digress. Your poppycock is not even somewhat amusing, although you clearly seem to think that you can get away with just about anything because gee golly, you are just so cute it's enough to make someone want to pick you up and squeeze you and cuddle you and take you home. I suppose that I could confront you on the subject, but I am leaving that to the person at whom you are directing all of this catty behavior. It might be fun for a few moments to get involved, but then I would just get bored and hope that miraculously get yourself into a second study-abroad program that will get you away from me and from campus for another couple months.

So, please. Put on your big girl panties and deal with whatever is going on rather than your current behavior. Not only is it inappropriate, it's excessively tacky and only further confirms to me that you have no class. Way to go, sweetheart.

Me

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As per usual with these rants. If you can read it, then it has nothing to do with you. On an unrelated note, I do feel bad for the friends who had to deal with me being cranky this past Saturday. This will be rectified as soon as possible.

Letter format. An update on some of the turkeys in my life. Short and bittersweet.


-----------------------

Dear you,

I hope that this is something I can speak to you rather than hiding behind words on a screen. For now, I will write these things.

We've known each other since middle school, making you my second oldest friend. But I've come to terms with what I knew when we entered college. Our friendship will always be one-sided, and I have always liked you far more than you've liked me. You were always graceful about it, so much that I didn't notice. People grow apart which is natural, and I fell in with some deplorable people in high school. You went off to find other, more wholesome folks. But we did try to keep in touch, and I knew that I could still talk to you with my heart exposed.

I saw you not too long ago. We've both changed greatly. I know that you're not the person you were in middle school, in high school, or even last semester. But you never saw that in me. I'm still funny-on-cue in your opinion. "Loud" and someone with a "bodily sense of humor," someone who "would make a good pirate." You know nothing, and you know even less about me. Someone who is "loud" makes a big stink about not getting credit for doing a lot of work for other people. Someone with a "bodily sense of humor" might laugh at sodomy. And someone who "would make a good pirate" is not someone I want to be friends with.

It's clear that I'm not interesting to you anymore. Maybe I was at some point, or maybe that was never the case. I was someone fun, but I could only be had in small doses. Maybe you just liked having me around because there was a time when I adored you, when all but worshiped your opinion and regarded every word from your mouth as pearls of wisdom. But to see you chatter away with so many other people after telling me that you have no time for me is not something I can take lightly. It could mean nothing, but it still bothers me. Since college, I was always the one who had to reach out to you. I extended myself for you and tried to conform to your schedule. To hear you prattle on now about this and that just reminds me of the under-handed stuff people in my father's family sometimes did to my mother. And to top it all off, you think you're being so etiquette-minded and tactful. If you had even the slightest understanding of where I'm coming from, you would realize why I was livid to hear that I had offended someone in my boyfriend's family--especially since this family member didn't have the spine to tell me himself.

I'm tired of being friends with you, if we're even that. You're more like Golden Hind of Artemis, a beautiful object that is no longer worth pursuing. There's no point to loving someone who will never love you back.


-----------------------------

In other news, I've begun work on my painted presents. Tell me if you want one and I'll give you some details on what I'm envisioning.

Not really a letter this time but some thoughts.

As of late, I found myself growing more and more antagonistic. I'm not quite sure if this is a seasonal thing, or if this is a permanent change. I becoming more antagonistic to anything I perceive as under-handed or passive-aggressive social behavior. Clearly, however, a problem arises when I prematurely call someone's behavior passive-aggressive based on previous patterns. Unfortunately, that's a pattern of one.

I suppose it then addresses my approach to socializing versus how many girls are taught to approach socializing. On the one hand, I watched my parents and admired how they cut through the bullshit; my mother was often more blunt about this than my father. On the other hand, my mother unfortunately has caused trouble for herself by doing that. People don't like to hear the truth even when they should.

And still, not telling the truth seems like a betrayal. I still find myself deeply concerned with how I'm perceived by strangers or new acquaintances, but I'm rather pleased that I can let go of that little by little. For example, it's never okay to cut someone off when they have the floor and loudly continue your own conversation. Perhaps last semester or even a few months ago, I may not have mentioned this. Now, however, I cannot let that kind of disrespectful behavior just slide. The problem lies in how I come across. I like to think that I can be antagonistic toward this behavior and still maintain some sense of the decorum. In fact, that is what I strive to do. I've always had deep admiration for anyone who can disarm someone with a choice comment or a well-placed remark. Something to needle a person so well that one is forced to reexamine one's actions. I want so badly to be that type of person, who can see the right words to make someone change their behavior for the better.

For now, I may have to settle for being seen as possibly bitchy. I think that I can deal with that rather well. I don't really mind being seen negatively when I ultimately have the moral high-ground. The hardest part, as always, is recognizing when I do NOT have that moral high-ground.

When you call someone a few times in a day and they do not respond, are they blowing you off or are they just busy? That depends on the person. One I know is like this:  A missed call could possibly mean avoidance, but it more likely means that missing the call was a mistake. Another I know is usually very consistent about answering the phone, and not answering the phone suggests avoidance; however, this could easily be explained as just missing the call. It's the little minutiae like these that make me wonder if I'm just over-reacting. I'm trying to fight against something that is not there. Perhaps I'm reacting to an implied lie or deception. I've found that I tend to react very strongly when feeling even slightly deceived. When someone makes a promise to be somewhere and shows up late, I feel deceived.

It used to be that someone how to do the same irksome behavior before I grew angry at them. The same passive-aggressive way of letting me know I had wronged them would happen over and over before I decided that I didn't want to deal with. Now the moment I see someone doing what I filed away as passive-aggressive behavior, I have no tolerance. I jump to conclusions, although perhaps those conclusions might end up being true. They're based on experience, which is a more "adult" way of assessing new situations. Sadly, it is also a much less rational way to assess situations (I say "adult" because psychological studies showed that adults rely on past experience to assess the danger of a situation whereas teenagers look at probabilities and rationalization.)

Whatever the case, this is something I do need to keep looking after. As a good friend of mine said to someone else, "You are arrogant because you believe that your fundamental assumptions are right." I make all sorts of fundamental assumptions about the people around me, and I should expect these assumptions to be proven wrong at any given moment.

On one last note, I wonder if it's bad thing to regret being close to someone. (If you are a friend who can read this entry, it is not you.) Or rather, you wonder what exactly your friendship consists of with that person. What is the friendship based on, and will it last? And when you find out something truly ugly about that person, are you a hypocrite for wanting to run away when your own ugliness is just as bad?

Completely unrelated: Auto-Tune the News should do something with clips from the Daily Show and Colbert Report.

An idea that I've been kicking around for some time. If I have the wherewithal, I may even put these little letters in more public places.


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Dear Linguistics,

How kind of you to help Linnaeus create a proper way to name living things. He and I are so grateful. Please come by for tea someday. I always find our conversations about evolution invigorating, and you may ask me whatever you wish concerning the human brain. Perhaps we can finally discuss animal language as well. Bring your favorite wine.

From Biology with Love


Dear Linguistics,

I sensed that you were a bit nervous when you spoke hastily with me the other day. Your tone wasn't like you, wavering a bit and a little high-pitched. You fidgeted more than usual, although most would not notice as such since you fidget so often. You showed me your usual kindness and affection when we talked about language acquisition, but you also seemed preoccupied. Please tell me what is bothering you. I already know that I'm not the only one in your life.

From Psychology with Love


Dear Linguistics,

My, how kind of you to drop at such a late hour the two nights ago when I had asked you to be on time; I could have sworn that we had made these plans well in advance, but then again you were never very good at being punctual. I suppose that punctuality is a sin to some who believe it suggests an anal-retentive nature and of someone who is far too rigid. However, punctuality also suggests a person who is considerate of other people's schedule. It was unwise of you to try waving off the smell of osteology on your collar because I knew full well what kind of people who lower themselves to such manual labor; I expect so much more from you since manual labor itself is questionable when one can never be sure if the tangible, perceivable world is at all based in reality. But even with these considerations, I cannot deny my feelings which are true. I abhor the thought that you are using me, but your behavior indicates otherwise. It seems that we must break off this sordid little affair in its current form; we must transform our relationship if you have any intention of maintaining even minimal contact with me. I expect to hear from you tonight; I will buy the wine.

From Philosophy with Love


Dear Linguistics,

You must tell me more about the others you visit. You have been such a great help in compiling our research, spinning us tales in the day and relieving our stress in the evenings. It's a shame that we both must keep so much of it to myself, but I shouldn't be surprised that I am one of your closest confidants. We are far more understanding than others. Don't forget to bring batteries for the tape recorder.

From Anthropology and Sociology with Love


Dear Linguistics,

After everything I did for you, and still you have the gall to talk about me behind your back. By the way, you left your Silky Kitten thong at my apartment. Call me if you don't want pictures of you wearing it plastered across the Internet. I'll prepare your favorite dinner when you come over.

From Computer Science with Love


Dear Linguistics,

I can hardly tolerate the way you stand by while I am twisted, warped, torqued, stretched, inflated, hassled, inverted, and knotted. And on top of that, you never call me anymore.

From English Literature with Love

No letters or rants tonight. Instead, I'm extremely proud to post the first poem I have written entirely in Latin with the vain hope of putting it in any kind of meter. After a while, i started giving up on the meter simply because I did not feel like meticulously counting syllable values. It's written in hendecasyllabics, the choice meter of Catullus who wrote about his girlfriend Lesbia and his boyfriend Juventius.

This will only make sense to those who can read Latin. It's a rather private poem, so I will leave it up to the reader to consider finding a friend to translate it or to ask me one-on-one for a translation. I'll give you a hint: It was inspired by a dream.

I suppose the title of the poem would have to be something like "Primum Somnium De Te" or something to that effect.

Nocte in lectulam nos somniavi
Esse cubitique quiescere te
Juxta me. Nuda eram in lectulam
Sub linis; nuda membra femoraque.
Habui indutum circum inguinem.
At tu omnia vestimenta tua
Quia in thalamum venisti mihi
Salutore. Eram immodesta.
Scivisti sine vestibus mi formam.
Risi laeta quia mecum aderas.
Amplexus cum tuo lacerto me es.
Tunc subito sub linis influxisti
Ut coxas capias. Dididisti me
Suavia utrimque praecordiam.
Hinc basium, illuc osculum, saepe
illinc osculum, huc suaviumque
hac suavium, illac basium et
Ubique tua labella peragrunt.
Luxurio, renidens et exspectans
Attingere tibi meas mamillas.

A different kind of letter format. You'll see why.

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Dear School Year,

Well, you certainly lived up to expectations. You would try me with greater cruelty than the year before; it only makes sense. I have to remind myself that you were only one year; your semesters were so different that you feel like two years.

The first semester was one that I never wish to repeat, but it taught me things that I couldn't have learned any other way. One has to make some very stupid mistakes before they can garner any experience from what they do. I've learned to have far better back-ups when it come to planning classes. I've learned that part of studying Science is brute force and swallowing the pain. I've also learned that in spite of how much I suffer, Science is still my first love. Rather than deterring me, this first semester strengthened my passion. Most importantly, however, I learned that there is little shame in failing when you have done your best. Falling off is also not an excuse to give up.  Swallowing my pride is very hard for me, but I had to do it to progress. It's not good that I felt as though I was coming unglued in the process, but it was probably necessary. Only then would I understand the point of what I do to keep me grounded.

All of this completely ignores the election; I must acknowledge that part of you. Political notions and beliefs aside, I will still recall for a long time my anxiety over the results. It was the first time I was anxious about the future of my country, not just my own. Whatever the country shifts to, I really don't know. The only thing I know is that I will pay attention rather than idly watching from time to time.

The second semester was a time of reflection, introspection, and consumption of Rhubarb Pie. It's no secret that having an art class really took the edge off everything, especially off the pain of revisiting my mistakes. A second major will not be quite so simple as I had anticipated, but there is hope yet. I have finally learned how to manage what I need to manage. It took me this whole year, but I did it. I have figured out how to dig myself out of a deep hole, and I have figured out just what it takes to land a decent grade. I have also finally figured the right way to suck up to my Biology professors. It is a terribly shallow thing to do, but it is also what they are looking for. The summer will be a good time to start looking at what my Fall professors have published. I'm happy to say that I will NOT need to suck up to my Latin professor; in fact, doing so would probably offend him greatly.

This is all academic. In the course of this year, there was also so much of the social aspect. I've learned that my closest friends are the ones I actively seek out on my own time. After all, I knew that if I created the right circumstances, I would find people whose company I honestly valued and enjoyed. Luckily, that formula has yet to fail me. While I still feel that I should find some connection with the people in  my department, I was never someone who like associating with people with whom I share superficial similarities. Only beyond my comfort zone could I find the people I truly cherish.

Finding them was not easy. You, School Year, tested these people. Calamities that struck could have torn us apart. Instead, it made the friendships stronger. I saw sides of people that I would never otherwise see; in seeing this, I saw their true colors and found out that they were the peoples I had always desired as friends. They are genuine, compassionate people. Perhaps a couple of them had quirks that annoy me, but friendship is about overlooking those things. They are all worth my while, and knowing them has enriched my life.

And of course, I can't possibly discredit the friends I already have. The ones who, despite great distance and lacking time, have kept in touch and have supported me however they can. They are the people I will cherish for years to come.

So, thank you, School Year. You were the most painful year yet, and it was the best thing I could have hoped for. 

Sincerely,
Me

Letter Format! Hooooooooo! Changing around the names this time. 


--------------------

Dear Self,

So apparently, you've managed to take yourself for quite a ride during the past couple days. This is not particularly good.

Relationships, in all their forms, are never easy. With Sicarius, you were constantly on edge about his affection. That has been put aside, although you now wonder about him from time to time. Of course you do. There is still a small sense of loss about what could have been. With Postumus, you have no idea what you want. He is kind and loving and genuine. You know that much, and you're still shuffling aside some of your feelings. And now with the interesting developments concerning Faustula! Your anxiety has taken you to Hell and half of Texas before making a pit-stop in Death Valley and skirting through the Sonoma Desert. Jesus Christ.

The people around you really are who you think they are. Yes, there was some shit that might have gone down with Faustula. But it did not. She and you are okay now. You need to really get on Postumus and Flavia about this. Seriously. It's time for some serious damage control, all because you had to be so utterly anxious about nothing. Faustula is still whom you thought she was, and she's a lot more perceptive than she seems. Go figure.

Your paranoia about people is not unfounded, but it's way through the roof. You're in college now! People like Crassa and Asina are not in your group of friends. This anxiety about them got way, way out of control. For one, you really should have talked to your therapist. By the way, schedule an appointment soon.

When you were more interested in Sicarius, this was never an issue. And yet you still eye him warily when there are girls around. It's understandable. Again, the sense of something loss and something that might've been. To see him suddenly start giving that to another girl (or boy) for that matter will still hurt quite a bit. But the way you seem to guard Postumus! Stop it! That is not the thing to do. Your anxiety over what was going on with Faustula was really out of control this time.

Postumus and Sicarius are genuine people. Remember that you trust them both with your life (and remember that Postumus doesn't seem to mind the idea of beating the tar out of someone for your sake). Remember that now, even Faustula will even beat the tar out of a certain someoen for your sake. That's extremely powerful. So guess what? You now have non-shitty friends! They are all manners of great people.

This anxiety things needs to be worked out as soon as possible. Maybe it's your sexuality. Maybe it's because you really were that hurt when it came to the friends you used to have. Or maybe, you're just paranoid by nature. Whatever it is, start getting yourself together. It's a damn good thing that you didn't burn any bridges this time.

Sincerely,
Me


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I'm gonna keep this here so I can look back at it whenever I need to and remind myself.

I think that this journal will simply become a collection of letters to people. If they were slightly more interesting, I would almost consider publishing the letters as a little book. What I need to do at some point is scan some of the profile pictures I've been drawing. (Amicus Rory suggested the appropriate title for the series, "History in Profile"). For now, a letter. Also, I've adopted the habit of witticaster  when it comes to entry titles. In my case, it's MST3K quotes.

------

Rachel Cuidam Latinae Linguae  S.P.D (Dear Latin)

Forgive me for addressing you in barbarous tones. I can express myself best in my native tongue.

You have always been good to me. I cannot deny this at all. While I grow tired of the times I have to defend choosing Latin as a my foreign language, I never grow tired of you. Vergil will toss you about as he will, as will Plautus and Horace. They agitate me, but you have always been sweet to my ears. I take whatever chance I can to use you with my other friends. Communicating through you thrills me.

But my adoration is why you will never be my truest love. As a benevolent goddess, you understand well what I mean. Always you had an inkling or a hunch as you looked over me while I toiled in the farther reaches of Murphey Hall. But you know that you are my treasured meretrix. You are my companion, but you are not my first spouse. If we parted, it would not be the worst thing that could happen. So you know what it means for me to take a Latin major. You're my concubine, but not my spouse.

Scientia, as you know her, is my first love. Even Scriptio knows this, since you and her spend so much time together. Scientia is cold, but she fills me with a passionate and creative anger that you simply cannot match. I wonder if that is true love: when you are so enraged that you wish to pull yourself up and turn yourself inside-out with the hope that you will see the world with new eyes. To sat up at all hours of the night huddled in the common room contemplating what it meant to be alone and homeless. To grow sick from exhaustion for stretching yourself so thin that you are on the brink of collapsing. To think about giving in and still find something to hold that back.

I'm sorry that I don't love you perhaps as I should. You and the other arts are still things I will always adore, but I run to you for comfort when Scientia gives me grief. Forever, I will flirt with and fondly play with you. And even when I learn other languages, I will return to you again and agaiin.

I know that you and Scientia will get on well. You always have.

Ave cum mea amore.


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In other news, I did quite well on my second Organic exam and I need to maintain that. I can also look forward to doing some collaborations with a friend for money. 

Title unrelated. I just love Gypsy from MST3K.

I think that from now on, I'll probably be posting letters to friend in addition to my terrible fanfiction. This is mostly to organize my thoughts.

( Letter to Friend )

In other news, I went to Charleston. If I can get some of the pictures from my friend Carina, I will be updating with those. I will also link to her so you can see what she has to say about the trip.

I think that from now on, my rants will probably be formatted as letters because these generalized tirades are spawn by individuals, so it seems more honest to write to them directly.

This is not a rant in the usual sense. It's a letter to a friend (and as usual, it's none of my current LJ friends because I would have the spine to say these things directly to you.) So when you read it, don't take it as the same sort of ranting tone I might use for something else.

( The Letter )
This may or may not stay since this friend also has an LJ. We have not added each other as friends yet, which is why I feel okay with writing this letter. I'll see about talking to this friend sometime this week.

And we're back to our regular programming!

This was a really fun scene to write, partially because it'll start this great motif that will come up time and time again in the fic. Enjoy!

Oh yes, oh yes, my name is Willy Lee....

( If you've got a warrant just read it to me )

Shot her down because she made me sore.....

( I thought I was her daddy, but she had five more )

I felt the need to post these three dreams that I've had over the past two days. I enjoy having strange dreams but these are so baffling and bizarre that I don't know what to make of them.

1st Dream:
Anyways, it's Nolanverse Batman, which means Ledger's Joker. (Just to clarify, I'm referring to the Batman movies starring Christian Bale in case there's any confusion) The crazy train is in the station and ready to go. The part that I remember, however, turns into a weird mixture between Lovecraft and old Salvador Dali paintings. There was some other stuff that happened beforehand. However, I remember that somehow the Joker had caught me, and I was just in a bed without any PJs because I don't wear them when I go to sleep. I was covered up enough so I didn't feel exposed, and I decide that I'm not going to be a wussie and be afraid of the Joker. He sticks a needle in me near my collarbone and draws some blood, but since it doesn't hurt I'm starting to feel pretty confident. He squirts the blood into his mouth for reasons I don't understand (maybe for effect). Then he tells me that someone else is gonna come by. That's when I say, "Well, you're not going to use the same needle, right?" He gets confused and we start having this matter-of-fact conversation.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, that's a little unsanitary. Don't you have another needle?--I'd just appreciate if you used another needle."
"I might."
"I'm just saying. It'd be nice if you could use another needle. I can get you one if you want."
The he snaps at me because he's getting a little pissy, and tells me that it's not gonna be one of his cronies coming by to do the same sort of weird shit. Apparently, it's Batman. This is the part where the crazy train just jumps the rails into a pit of insanity. The scene cuts to outside where it's dark and away from this house. It's not Batman. It's a really creepy Living Bat Train. See, there is Batman in his full gear at the front of this train thing. He has his arms and legs, but somehow attached to his back and extending away is this solid mass of black tissue. It's probably two feet or so and massive. Attached to that are more legs and appendanges, and attached to that is some mass of a tar-like mess. Also, the underside of his big bat-cape is blood red, containing many eyes and sharp-toothed mouths which shriek a lot. He's crashing through some trees and trying to pull himself away from the evil thing attached to him as part of his amazing inner battle with this creepy tar-beast that is trying to eat him. Also, at this point it suddenly went from real-life to Batman Series animation. I remember there had been some sort of scene where the tar-beast attached to Batman and he was crashing through the city trying to just pull away. For some reason, he couldn't just cut it off.

2nd Dream:

This is the Twilight Zone one where everything started out in black and white. There were a bunch of cars to choose from at some lake in the middle of nowhere, and there was this SUV that my mom told me not to choose because it was evil. The guy who owned it didn't seem to happy with that. After all the cars were driven except that one, it becomes third-person. The guy with the white SUV turns out to be the devil and he drives away. He's pissed off, so he starts a tornado. I think at some point, my mom says, "See, this is where the tornado starts" as if we're watching this on TV. It gets muddled here. I remember being in a hotel room where we were watching the storm warning and getting ready to leave. I kinda forgot how Pokemon got in, but it was sometime during this point. I think this is where a Lickitung was madly in love with something like a Gyarados. They liked each other about as much as my two male cats like each other (to clarify for people: my two male cats will sometimes try to have sex with each other. That's how much they like each other).

3rd Dream:

Unfortunately, only a few of you will understand this one. That makes telling the dream that much more embarrassing. Pester me for details.

4th Dream:

I remember more of this one than the others, and it is probably my favorite because it's something I would like to do. I remember there was some serious problems in this beautiful forest and animals were getting hurt. I came across this abandomed barn in a clearing surrounded by trees, and a lot of vegetation was growing in and on the barn. This was a safe place for me to put some birds, so I placed them there and fed them until I could move them elsewhere. I have to leave to get more food. Some time has passed and when I come back, there are more birds. Different kinds like pigeons and sparrows, and then there are also these beautiful gipsy chickens like from Key West that are taking up residence here too. They're building nests which is good, and they're raising their little babies and generally being pretty happy. The only bad thing is that the menagerie starts getting a little larger. The chickens get spooked by some of the cats I've rescued, so I have to put the cats in another part of the barn where they won't try to eat any of the baby chicks. At some point someone starts walking a small version of those four-legged battle droids from Star Wars through the forest. They're not malicious; they just don't give a shit about the wildlife. They're about to plough into my sanctuary and I run over frantically motioning for them to go around. I think that it's not going to work, but they see me and they actually go away. It turns out that much of the forest I'm in--which by the is beautiful because it extends up the side of a mountain--is in danger due to humans. Anyways, I'm now at a point where I either need to start finding places for these animals or building another place. I'm not really rescuing them anymore because they just wander into the barn and take up residence, but the problem is that the carnivores and herbivores aren't getting along. I remember had to separate a fox from some hounds and again had to take care of the birds. Somewhere in here, I'm forced to leave the barn-sanctuary and hang out with my ex-boyfriend (he dumped me in early June) even though I really have no reason or desire to see him. He seems nice enough, although I distinctly remember that he either didn't care about my barn-sanctuary or finds a way to completely screw up my system. The last thing I remember is using my words to tear him a new one. I woke up wishing that I had a barn-sanctuary where I could help animals and give them a safe place.

---


The last one seems like something I could actually do, although I doubt it would be as harmonious or pastoral as

Alright, just wanted to say Happy New Year to everyone even though it's a bit late for that. I've been generally relaxing and not getting too many chances to write down stuff (or much motivation).

I'll try posting some quick summaries tomorrow. For now, I must say that Braza Lena near Islamorada is awesome. Absolutely amazing Brazilian steakhouse. When I was there, never before did I eat every bite of my food with care and consideration. I felt like my meal demanded respect and all of my attention, and I'm glad that I did that. I've heard of a Brazilian steakhouse in the Triangle area, and I would love to go there with some people. Let me know if you need something to celebrate and we can drive there.

Also got to watch some fireworks last night which was fun. I'm not really into doing resolutions and stuff since I'll have a lot of my plate anyway this coming semester.

That's all for now!

Finally, something that most people will probably find more interesting than everything else I've been talking about:

( Dolphins! )
That's all for now! I'm tired, but there will more on the way. Stay tuned!

Actually, one quick note.

Just wanted to mention this cool guy named Chad Nedland whom my father and I met while messing around on the rich side of Conch Key. These are the people who look at you funny for just checking out the entrance to their "exclusive" little community of cookie-cutter houses.

Anyways, this guy does Walk for Peace and has been doing it for ten years. Just wanted to promote two websites.

His personal website

Aaaaand...

Walk for Peace website

Alright, and that's all for now.

More stuff!

First off, I'll have to write purely about the Seminole reservation based on photos I can grab from the Internet because my parents made the terrible mistake of taking all the photos off the memory card in our camera. I'll try my best to make this interesting. I'd also like to make a correction. There are six Seminole reservations, not three.

( The Seminole Reservation )
There was also some stuff on dolphins which I will have to post tomorrow. That's all for now!

This will either get split into two entries or I'll just edit this one. We finally in Conch Key where we will stay through New Year's and then some. Since we were so worn out yesterday, I didn't get a chance to post anything interesting even though we did visit Big Cat Rescue and one of the Seminole reservations (They have at least three).

( Pictures of The Bay View Inn at Conch Key )


And now, more on Big Cat Rescue!

( Morning at Big Cat Rescue )
You can find out more about Big Cat Rescue at their website:
BigCatRescue

Also, sign their petition which will ban tiger farming in Florida:
Petition


Tell them you were referred by a friend. They'll very much appreciate it.

Merry Christmas everyone! We spent all of last night traveling, so this is a day for just relaxing. Hope you all are doing well. Tomorrow will be a far more action-packed day filled with pictures and fun facts.

That's me grinning like an idiot at St. Pete Beach, FL. The people on the porch were really nice because they let us get them in the picture when they found out the pictures were for friends.

Alright, so yesterday was spent visiting family and today, we're relaxing before we head off on our crazy late-night drive down to Florida. Today, I'll be posting some interesting facts about Charleston along with my own commentary. This will also be my chance to post a little more about Boone Hall Plantation.

This will be done in a style inspired by reading too many Cracked. com articles

In case you didn't know...
    Edger Allen Poe's novel The Gold Bug was set in the Charleston area and written while he was stationed in Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's Island
As if that's not enough....
    On Sullivan's Island, there is a Poe Street named in his honor since most of The Gold Bug takes place on the island. However, I've not been able to find out if William Legrand, the madman obsessed with the gold bug, was inspired by anyone. There's no telling if treasure was ever found on Sullivan's Island, but no one ever said it wasn't there.

In case you didn't know....
   The Charleston skyline consists mostly of churches as opposed to office buildings like many other cities, giving it the name "The Holy City." This is in contrast to Savannah, a city known for its copious amounts of alcohol.
As if that's not not enough....
   Some of those aren't actually churches. One of the so-called churches, most likely, Beth Elohim. This synagogue was built in the same style of all the churches at the time and houses one of America's oldest Jewish congregations established in 1740.

In case you didn't know....
   Charleston was the site of an earthquake, one that registered between 6.6 and 7.3 on the Richter scale. In 1886, the earthquake hit the city and lasted just under a minute; however, the earthquake still managed to damage 2,000 buildings and kill at least 60 people. Estimates for lives loss is as high as 110. Aftershocks of the earthquake were still felt for the next thirty-five years, but the most unusual thing about the earthquake is that there had been no recorded seismic activity in the area before that year.
As if that's not enough....
   The building on East Bay Street that houses the Eva Carter Gallery is one of the few buildings that survived the earthquake with very little damage. For that reason, the building has found its place in a registry of historic buildings.

In case you didn't know....
   Gullah, the creole of Charleston, is intrinsic to the local language. The Gullah language has its roots in the West African languages of the slaves brought to the area throughout the slave trade.
As if that's not enough....
   One of the reasons why the Gullah language and all of its cultural significance stayed intact has to do with the Civil War. In 1861, plantation owners on the Sea Islands were terrified of being captured by the invading Union army rushing to blockade the islands. They ran away to elsewhere, living their slaves and land behind. As a result, the slaves from the Sea Islands were recruited to form the 1st South Carolina Colored Regiment commanded Thomas Wentworth Higginson. This regiment was unique for being the very first black army unit composed of former slaves rather than freemen. Higginson published a book about his experiences commanding the regiment, and their stories are the ones that were probably ripped off of in Glory. The Massachussettes 54th regiment was not well represented in that movie because, historically, it contained many educated freemen including the children of Frederick Douglass.

In case you didn't know....
    Boone Hall plantation has been a crop-producing estate since 1745 if not before that, even though it didn't not always stay in the hands of the Boone family. In addition to relying heavily on cotton like most plantations, the plantation produced rice and even imported slaves from specific areas of Africa where rice was grown and eaten because they needed workers who knew how to harvest the rice paddies.
As if that's not enough....
   Boone Hall was also the biggest producer in the United States of pecans after Reconstruction. If you or your parents bought pecans before 1989, they came from Boone Hall. When Hurricane Hugo came and wiped out 70% of the orchard, the plantation lost its biggest cash crop.

 In case you didn't know....
    Staples of one's diet in Charleston include hoppin' john ( made from field peas, bacon fat, and rice), okra, grits, and rice pilau
As if that's not enough....
   A place that serves this stuff isn't exactly a place where locals go to eat. These things might be part of the menu, but they won't be a big part. If the locals wanted grits or hoppin' john, they could just make it at home.

In case you didn't know....
    The Charleston accent has been slowly disappearing due to changing demographics. This can be seen in the younger generations such as the people born after 1960.
As if that's not enough...
   Some things don't change. People from out of town are still "from off" and your family is still your "people."

In case you didn't know....
   Something about Charleston compels people to go wandering around in graveyards looking for ghosts, and in fact there are a number of ghost tours available. This is a little foolhardy since the living should probably leave restless spirits alone.
As if that's not enough....
   Blacks of the area know what's up. There is a superstition in Charleston that certain things will drive ghosts away. One thing many houses have is their porches painted "haint blue" as a deterrent. Another belief is that if one puts funny papers in the windows, the ghosts will laugh themselves away. (I tried that at a place in West Virginia and they thought I was insane. These are the same people who swear up and down that they have ghosts in their hotel. Screw you, Harper's Ferry.)


That's it for now!

So I'll do my best to make this interesting, although I'll admit that I'm distractedly and highly amused by Tropic Thunder.

We went to Boone Hall Plantation in Mount Pleasant, right outside of Charleston and on the other side of the Ashley Phosphate River. Now, I understand the Ashley part of the name. It comes from Lord Ashley, the man who won Charleston's land in a card game. However, I still don't understand the Phosphate part. The good news is that I bought a cute little book on Charleston. The bad news is that I've left it in the car, so I'll have to to post things about Charleston tomorrow.

Much of this day has been filled with listening to my parents learn Mandarin, a language much easier to pick up than I had originally imagined. Still hard to master like any other language, but not as daunting as I had expected.

For now, picture time!




Two pictures of the walk-up to the plantation house. This particular house is the fourth one built in this area, finished up in 1932. I could not get any pictures of the inside without annoying the tour guide. That said, the vegetation and gardening on the plantation is meant to accurately reflect how it would've looked in the 1700's.

As part of every plantation's history, I have pictures of the slave quarters. I've got plenty of pictures of the quarters which I allow you all to look at. These quarters were made from the reject bricks made on Boone Plantation that were not up to snuff for some of the nicer structures in town. Since it's quite late, I'll just post the pictures for everyone to take a gander at. With luck, I can come back here and post more information. I'll also be posting more pictures from here later on.

The slave cabins: