You are Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic)
| Medicine and physical healing are your game, but wooing women isn't a strong suit.  |
1.17.2006
I shoulda been Kaylee...
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You are Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic)
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You are Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic)
Quiz time!
Man, that's a gross picture...
You are the Moon card. Entering the Moon we enter
the intuitive and psychic realms. This is the
stuff dreams are made on. And like dreams the
imagery we find here may inspire us or torment
us. Understanding the moon requires looking
within. Our own bodily rhythms are echoed in
this luminary that circles the earth every
month and reflects the sun in its progress.
Listening to those rhythms may produce visions
and lead you towards insight. The Moon is a
force that has legends attached to it. It
carries with it both romance and insanity.
Moonlight reveals itself as an illusion and it
is only those willing to work with the force of
dreams that are able to withstand this
reflective light. Image from: Stevee Postman.
http://www.stevee.com/
Which Tarot Card Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are the Moon card. Entering the Moon we enter
the intuitive and psychic realms. This is the
stuff dreams are made on. And like dreams the
imagery we find here may inspire us or torment
us. Understanding the moon requires looking
within. Our own bodily rhythms are echoed in
this luminary that circles the earth every
month and reflects the sun in its progress.
Listening to those rhythms may produce visions
and lead you towards insight. The Moon is a
force that has legends attached to it. It
carries with it both romance and insanity.
Moonlight reveals itself as an illusion and it
is only those willing to work with the force of
dreams that are able to withstand this
reflective light. Image from: Stevee Postman.
http://www.stevee.com/
Which Tarot Card Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
1.12.2006
Orion
The timer beeps. My dad and I slow to a walk. "Whew," he says. "That one seemed long."
“I know,” I reply, panting.
We are silent for the rest of the minute we have to catch our breath before we will make ourselves run again.
My parents' neighborhood has no streetlights. In the early January dark of our run, my father carries a flashlight - but he uses it mainly to highlight our presence to passing cars, so most of our run is lit by porch lights and the full moon.
And, next to the moon, the great hunter.
Orion is an old friend of mine. In the winter, the only thing better than a snowy night is a clear night when snow is on the ground, when the stars in Orion glitter like they would like to fall from the sky and join their crystalline bretheren on the ground. And on a too-warm winter night like the night of our run, the beauty of his shape in the sky almost makes up for the dreary brown of the earth, which won't awaken for several months yet.
I look at his shape and think about what I might have named him, had I been in charge of such things: the Hourglass, the Great Bowtie. I look at his sword, tipped with the Pleiades, and imagine a new myth that is less a tragedy than a bawdy tale: seven sisters, one by one, impaled by the great "sword" of the hunter.
I think about Orion and Artemis of the moon, hunting together. (Were they lovers or merely companions? Did he deflower the chaste goddess? The myths I read and eventually learned by heart, intended for children, were fuzzy on these sorts of details.)
I think about fiery Apollo, the jealous twin brother of the moon goddess, in a rage because his other half had found another companion. (A human companion, no less.) In his fury he sent a scorpion to hunt the hunter, and the beast pursued Orion across the known world (which is less impressive than it sounds today).
Finally, Orion did battle with the scorpion, and each died locked in the other's embrace. A grieving Artemis hung her friend's image - as well as that of the scorpion, which I like to imagine she couldn't tear away from Orion's dead hands - in the sky as constellations. (My children's myths again become fuzzy. Did Artemis do this alone, or did Apollo, as an act of contrition for his rash deed, help her?)
Thus, Orion and the scorpion continue their endless pursuit. Every winter, Orion arrives in the night sky, protecting us through the dead months. And every summer, Scorpio creeps up over the horizon, and the hunter must flee again.
The timer beeps.
As I start to run again, I look at the shape of Orion next to the moon and imagine myself as Artemis, pursuing my quarry in the night sky with my old friend by my side.
“I know,” I reply, panting.
We are silent for the rest of the minute we have to catch our breath before we will make ourselves run again.
My parents' neighborhood has no streetlights. In the early January dark of our run, my father carries a flashlight - but he uses it mainly to highlight our presence to passing cars, so most of our run is lit by porch lights and the full moon.
And, next to the moon, the great hunter.
Orion is an old friend of mine. In the winter, the only thing better than a snowy night is a clear night when snow is on the ground, when the stars in Orion glitter like they would like to fall from the sky and join their crystalline bretheren on the ground. And on a too-warm winter night like the night of our run, the beauty of his shape in the sky almost makes up for the dreary brown of the earth, which won't awaken for several months yet.
I look at his shape and think about what I might have named him, had I been in charge of such things: the Hourglass, the Great Bowtie. I look at his sword, tipped with the Pleiades, and imagine a new myth that is less a tragedy than a bawdy tale: seven sisters, one by one, impaled by the great "sword" of the hunter.
I think about Orion and Artemis of the moon, hunting together. (Were they lovers or merely companions? Did he deflower the chaste goddess? The myths I read and eventually learned by heart, intended for children, were fuzzy on these sorts of details.)
I think about fiery Apollo, the jealous twin brother of the moon goddess, in a rage because his other half had found another companion. (A human companion, no less.) In his fury he sent a scorpion to hunt the hunter, and the beast pursued Orion across the known world (which is less impressive than it sounds today).
Finally, Orion did battle with the scorpion, and each died locked in the other's embrace. A grieving Artemis hung her friend's image - as well as that of the scorpion, which I like to imagine she couldn't tear away from Orion's dead hands - in the sky as constellations. (My children's myths again become fuzzy. Did Artemis do this alone, or did Apollo, as an act of contrition for his rash deed, help her?)
Thus, Orion and the scorpion continue their endless pursuit. Every winter, Orion arrives in the night sky, protecting us through the dead months. And every summer, Scorpio creeps up over the horizon, and the hunter must flee again.
The timer beeps.
As I start to run again, I look at the shape of Orion next to the moon and imagine myself as Artemis, pursuing my quarry in the night sky with my old friend by my side.
1.11.2006
Lord help me.
And my credit-card balance, for that matter.
Global Market is back at Target.
You see, every year, Target has to think of something to put in their "seasonal" corner between Christmas and patio furniture. Valentine's Day, while profitable in its own way, just isn't big enough to fill the void.
So last year, they did something that was apparently so successful, they're trying it again this year. They filled the space with small furniture and decor from around the world, called it Global Market, and watched Pier 1 fanatics (is there such a thing?) swoon and tell their friends.
Global Market furniture is priced about the same way as all furniture from Target - $80 for a trunk, $30 for a silky throw, $15 for, I dunno, some sort of bamboo basket. Which is, I guess, cheap for furniture, but expensive for me.
But, since it's "seasonal," in a couple of months the whole section is going to go 50 percent off so they can make room for that patio furniture. Last year when that happened, I bought, like, half of the Asia collection. This year, I'll go for the other half.
So, if you come over to my place near the end of March and discover that it is crammed with so many throw pillows and folding screens that there is actually no room for you to come inside ... now you know why.
Global Market is back at Target.
You see, every year, Target has to think of something to put in their "seasonal" corner between Christmas and patio furniture. Valentine's Day, while profitable in its own way, just isn't big enough to fill the void.
So last year, they did something that was apparently so successful, they're trying it again this year. They filled the space with small furniture and decor from around the world, called it Global Market, and watched Pier 1 fanatics (is there such a thing?) swoon and tell their friends.
Global Market furniture is priced about the same way as all furniture from Target - $80 for a trunk, $30 for a silky throw, $15 for, I dunno, some sort of bamboo basket. Which is, I guess, cheap for furniture, but expensive for me.
But, since it's "seasonal," in a couple of months the whole section is going to go 50 percent off so they can make room for that patio furniture. Last year when that happened, I bought, like, half of the Asia collection. This year, I'll go for the other half.
So, if you come over to my place near the end of March and discover that it is crammed with so many throw pillows and folding screens that there is actually no room for you to come inside ... now you know why.
1.05.2006
Dara + Thursday = BFF
My mom saw my apartment for the first time this weekend. My dad was delivering my BRAND NEW TV!!!!, and she tagged along.
My mother has never exactly been a cat person, but when she saw Thursday for the first time since I adopted her (so, you know, the first time since she's been living unde er a porch and starving to death), it was instant love.
"That's the kitty?" she said in disbelief as the kitty under discussion jumped out of my arms and darted under the bed. "I would never have recognized her!"
While my dad and I cleared off a space on the coffee table for my BRAND NEW TV!!!!, my mom lay on the floor in my bedroom, playing a fascinating game with the under-bed cat that involved a hand put on top of a paw, then a paw put on top of a hand.
"Mommy," I called. (Yeah, I'm 24 years old and still call my mother "Mommy." Whatever.) "Can you see her?"
"We're playing a game!" my mom replied. And then:
"I miss having a pet."
I turned to my dad. "She's gonna make you get a cat."
He snorted. "Not a chance."
We'll see.
My mother has never exactly been a cat person, but when she saw Thursday for the first time since I adopted her (so, you know, the first time since she's been living unde er a porch and starving to death), it was instant love.
"That's the kitty?" she said in disbelief as the kitty under discussion jumped out of my arms and darted under the bed. "I would never have recognized her!"
While my dad and I cleared off a space on the coffee table for my BRAND NEW TV!!!!, my mom lay on the floor in my bedroom, playing a fascinating game with the under-bed cat that involved a hand put on top of a paw, then a paw put on top of a hand.
"Mommy," I called. (Yeah, I'm 24 years old and still call my mother "Mommy." Whatever.) "Can you see her?"
"We're playing a game!" my mom replied. And then:
"I miss having a pet."
I turned to my dad. "She's gonna make you get a cat."
He snorted. "Not a chance."
We'll see.
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