tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5897834003592405462024-02-18T23:47:16.520-07:00heart's inflectionslime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-10174848365203748052009-05-18T22:00:00.004-06:002009-05-18T22:05:27.733-06:00Goodbye<div style="text-align: center;">This is my final post in Heart's Inflections.<br /><br />I don't know if I would have chosen that name a year ago, and even though I waaay slowed down on this blog, it was a nice place to experiment being me.<br /><br />I am going to start journaling (with actual pen and paper) instead.<br /><br />Love.</div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-68511819978823032312009-05-13T18:56:00.002-06:002009-05-13T18:57:10.607-06:00Spring<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvlb9boM9I5n9NJK_bvqQVGGyL504L4XTElQc0H2IVDBzCh6v-ebVhUp7HC1_zMTTAZtYCjHgmEGBNwQuZrcehrONgOj5pEWbfGwOsyvMlZ0FU5c_jxx54uyas5QtznrcqobbLQEKd0Sz/s1600-h/100_4945_2_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvlb9boM9I5n9NJK_bvqQVGGyL504L4XTElQc0H2IVDBzCh6v-ebVhUp7HC1_zMTTAZtYCjHgmEGBNwQuZrcehrONgOj5pEWbfGwOsyvMlZ0FU5c_jxx54uyas5QtznrcqobbLQEKd0Sz/s320/100_4945_2_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335477275183345794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-30834974455303482282009-03-20T16:06:00.003-06:002009-03-20T16:09:36.286-06:00On the shores of the (frozen) lake<div style="text-align: center;">Wish you were here...<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7F_Im5vQr_c0fgHlmPWHgPj0RbtfwsQp0oShM8NQazTNgc90XzsejtUC9jeeYNnVb-kujqdgsg7yzMevVedapjY6CfeHWJKy4dDmXD9ZHtjShGxwWqFR9tyIuJn9KehlXNUS-KmJWjf9A/s1600-h/101_0110.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7F_Im5vQr_c0fgHlmPWHgPj0RbtfwsQp0oShM8NQazTNgc90XzsejtUC9jeeYNnVb-kujqdgsg7yzMevVedapjY6CfeHWJKy4dDmXD9ZHtjShGxwWqFR9tyIuJn9KehlXNUS-KmJWjf9A/s320/101_0110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315395120945016914" border="0" /></a><br />Here's to a good weekend.<br /></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-19015874380285062582009-03-19T21:51:00.004-06:002009-03-20T16:05:40.894-06:00Forgotten<div style="text-align: center;">Frozen lake water crystallized. Yardstick of human accomplishment in nature. Forgotten.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23WUPvBk7BIWSEjwHGBz_YWNafxxAuVzJM3SuhYrdvRlBPFQBtsA7T7ZaVdRvmqc1CndN88awGfbQKZtDHpHkAqQ5RIV39Fm6aloXfqDYpyr2KiU-r90Wx7a_O4hXRihL8qhWjlxdePkI/s1600-h/101_0076_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23WUPvBk7BIWSEjwHGBz_YWNafxxAuVzJM3SuhYrdvRlBPFQBtsA7T7ZaVdRvmqc1CndN88awGfbQKZtDHpHkAqQ5RIV39Fm6aloXfqDYpyr2KiU-r90Wx7a_O4hXRihL8qhWjlxdePkI/s320/101_0076_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315112873413728322" border="0" /></a></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-5901804199955984612009-03-18T14:34:00.012-06:002009-03-18T15:04:44.594-06:00cultural propaganda<div style="text-align: center;">Today's treasures of inspiration<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />The following image is partly why I like to look at propaganda posters for style. Simple, bold message, a few colours, a basic image. All designed for maximum impact.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwJiAl6acaGfPKPUd2GjjNJCp1z5_QIsglYc6yCxiw8h3uMT6dWiW9-NbiBtpjFtphDpyVmUILzY5Ngw7OGcyqob9geKbGMrVLb_OiWnChacwRX6OxiB5mQlmuJ3uMldDJeFaLELvvkbr/s1600-h/ndewar0052.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwJiAl6acaGfPKPUd2GjjNJCp1z5_QIsglYc6yCxiw8h3uMT6dWiW9-NbiBtpjFtphDpyVmUILzY5Ngw7OGcyqob9geKbGMrVLb_OiWnChacwRX6OxiB5mQlmuJ3uMldDJeFaLELvvkbr/s320/ndewar0052.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314629059539959842" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">From <a href="http://www.thumbtackpress.com/browse/product_info.php?products_id=1265">here</a></span><br /><br /><br />Even though this style isn't my personal favourite, it definitely gets kudos.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJcZF8XrNAYWtNG15tktkBfNo6ZoQXpzWkioTf8n2cG-x9P0kUcyGR7umpxt83Ndjouz7Aksxr0qt0psn2kQUL9HE5TVkPfU2Ht9XwtWcWv2fIwK4Cd8ukRCmf_Eg3DEuqRN7s_Sjv8zY/s1600-h/101_0218.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJcZF8XrNAYWtNG15tktkBfNo6ZoQXpzWkioTf8n2cG-x9P0kUcyGR7umpxt83Ndjouz7Aksxr0qt0psn2kQUL9HE5TVkPfU2Ht9XwtWcWv2fIwK4Cd8ukRCmf_Eg3DEuqRN7s_Sjv8zY/s320/101_0218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314634091921552594" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Dark, rich colours and designs with a brighter tone of flight against the white.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhPFOCEfSt5RwRYjcNP5xMJolcliFk5YqVam85vVBbPjNZsgn4hPQcC-03jFw0kxw9W00TRP6_bzPY3TA_8HlnuTptduExUEUgl6zdw_SzyRHUlOsYeiq9GdglhSUkNTzExJSEvmbpdB-/s1600-h/gtriplett0001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhPFOCEfSt5RwRYjcNP5xMJolcliFk5YqVam85vVBbPjNZsgn4hPQcC-03jFw0kxw9W00TRP6_bzPY3TA_8HlnuTptduExUEUgl6zdw_SzyRHUlOsYeiq9GdglhSUkNTzExJSEvmbpdB-/s320/gtriplett0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314629052895871234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">From <a href="http://www.thumbtackpress.com/browse/product_info.php?cPath=58&products_id=203">here</a></span><br /><br /><br />This one brings me somewhere in emotions, in spirit. Familiarity and comfort seeps into me... Brings me to daydreams.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWu5pRiHVh-ZzgnAN60XRCLiM6LlQnTsBGHN5t2WKHlErGjkm9RKtf2fcKzTnZtWvDNHmRcXsESjXpRoR2pBo1t1c19hjABBAaJtE61DcIg7r6eYFW6Q9p7eCsLiUDdJZ1JJPtjB8CqIX_/s1600-h/101_0234.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWu5pRiHVh-ZzgnAN60XRCLiM6LlQnTsBGHN5t2WKHlErGjkm9RKtf2fcKzTnZtWvDNHmRcXsESjXpRoR2pBo1t1c19hjABBAaJtE61DcIg7r6eYFW6Q9p7eCsLiUDdJZ1JJPtjB8CqIX_/s320/101_0234.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314632555329065218" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I LOVE this art style. Simple, thin outlines, monochrome shadows unify this image, convey stillness, peace, comfort.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SxrZBY-U6tXvvyAExetu0KCgnh1GBOUtXIFacXXrUmE8aiYkxDFnqPAF27IVwk7WT_WW7IJU1v7bmkroBskz8vLg-ZBv5C-PHawsr2rosJryy8DVlqnsq6d_Ez4XkkvfaOkyZOX_28sT/s1600-h/101_0242_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SxrZBY-U6tXvvyAExetu0KCgnh1GBOUtXIFacXXrUmE8aiYkxDFnqPAF27IVwk7WT_WW7IJU1v7bmkroBskz8vLg-ZBv5C-PHawsr2rosJryy8DVlqnsq6d_Ez4XkkvfaOkyZOX_28sT/s320/101_0242_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314633856067652962" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Bold, a little hip to appeal to the right audience<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cgCl9odLa_vdxPNxP9BBM2eFzSE8kMabriMARNo6o4sL4xpXEcFvw6hhp-KKGCdnGGaRd9fBHec4GRJW022rVQ0b1D8RVqfjRC7wMMjWaREvrGvV3toN1Wwp4KMLqND-dGQzamIYMWjw/s1600-h/101_0255.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cgCl9odLa_vdxPNxP9BBM2eFzSE8kMabriMARNo6o4sL4xpXEcFvw6hhp-KKGCdnGGaRd9fBHec4GRJW022rVQ0b1D8RVqfjRC7wMMjWaREvrGvV3toN1Wwp4KMLqND-dGQzamIYMWjw/s320/101_0255.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314632576708997362" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Absolutely hilarious.... his posture, the simple typography... Just as the image is very basic and fundamental, so is the problem.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNar3X1sHfUSzF7mCBrhSZbSdLCYwQcTOCLq3fAyOfET5_BK2VT3BiaUyxJ0TPw_6kG7fVJHco5NXyau6CdJb0jxLftiJW2aXh7WJpGxh3cDSxtTW2hpt3edbP0V-IXh2hWUX2AQig16-9/s1600-h/101_0251.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNar3X1sHfUSzF7mCBrhSZbSdLCYwQcTOCLq3fAyOfET5_BK2VT3BiaUyxJ0TPw_6kG7fVJHco5NXyau6CdJb0jxLftiJW2aXh7WJpGxh3cDSxtTW2hpt3edbP0V-IXh2hWUX2AQig16-9/s320/101_0251.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314632564590663778" border="0" /></a></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-82795404658307767082009-03-17T12:15:00.006-06:002009-03-17T20:08:23.196-06:00Vagina's message<div style="text-align: center;">I saw the vagina monologues twice last week, and they were amazing! It was inspiring to listen to many different stories. Overwhelming sadness flowed, two stories of women treated like objects, dehumanized. Other times, woman won the day over men. One woman only found her clitoris in her eighties.<br /><br />All these were stories of women just <span style="font-style: italic;">being women</span>, no excuses or apologies. It was liberating!<br /><br />As a result, I made thank-you posters for all the actresses.... and I loved them a lot! Giving them away was so tormentous, I almost kept all 16 for myself.<br /><br />Be well.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAma-RHIKXrCLLqmZCzC2JMn2wH3b4EKNshb85CcXA4WIDz9P2rt2NIbxBut-QGZ-WY1tPl6id50LeC6zmVPCpGOjtZ-l8u6REHZ9npiTs8nQpJzaVZhvLcE9O66KEMXA6fhEjZDwSKgIZ/s1600-h/img006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAma-RHIKXrCLLqmZCzC2JMn2wH3b4EKNshb85CcXA4WIDz9P2rt2NIbxBut-QGZ-WY1tPl6id50LeC6zmVPCpGOjtZ-l8u6REHZ9npiTs8nQpJzaVZhvLcE9O66KEMXA6fhEjZDwSKgIZ/s320/img006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314231912013404546" border="0" /></a></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-16460277008575965332009-03-16T11:36:00.005-06:002009-03-17T20:51:30.603-06:00Light, shadow, reflection<div style="text-align: center;">Just some odds-and-ends photos... random things I kind of like because they're slightly odd...<br /><br />The way they play with the light, a dance of shadows<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0XrMP3pCX2jVLE0lth4ZBuJf_hytTy5uYH5h_QKuGPY3m0FXKHP5SQAWUC1cFOp8uHr58iJiRRjHh-HbUGq5o4IEHRnD-W3yLoJT8Iv0AiWclWniGz92TUIOTIU7oxP5r4B3GiQKSlACz/s1600-h/100_9389_3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0XrMP3pCX2jVLE0lth4ZBuJf_hytTy5uYH5h_QKuGPY3m0FXKHP5SQAWUC1cFOp8uHr58iJiRRjHh-HbUGq5o4IEHRnD-W3yLoJT8Iv0AiWclWniGz92TUIOTIU7oxP5r4B3GiQKSlACz/s320/100_9389_3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313841183802326402" border="0" /></a>And strange reflections.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDLFns5FTQAhBD2btL0gNZYGyVvqYSZyDhGI0cTXZDqj0jXlvnpP0sZwuuTknVLMYYcUBw-Yfcr6YMrYVXTwcM_a7V7Sj6YFKmWGlqIUc1bvUME5niA0GQSpxtp_uIje-1zy9FtKE-_OY/s1600-h/101_0124_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDLFns5FTQAhBD2btL0gNZYGyVvqYSZyDhGI0cTXZDqj0jXlvnpP0sZwuuTknVLMYYcUBw-Yfcr6YMrYVXTwcM_a7V7Sj6YFKmWGlqIUc1bvUME5niA0GQSpxtp_uIje-1zy9FtKE-_OY/s320/101_0124_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313841181128233730" border="0" /></a><br /></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-67552251321784299702009-03-05T00:53:00.005-07:002009-03-05T01:19:06.650-07:00Photo travel<div>I've been away this past week, and I will still be away for a couple of days. Here's a preview of some of the sights I've seen thus far:</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOjZ_SKX9sHf4ySwh_0zAdNJlukfGm7R4n7vZuYRhdeaBW2Itc8o5TNH81GrNPV4efNQPGj1v07JMtUhFZ9qQkd-6lHhO64cxlvYwgiIiT_e5b6i8OjV-uANBu1xy1I4jsKpXm_VmG6aG/s1600-h/100_9414.JPG"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOjZ_SKX9sHf4ySwh_0zAdNJlukfGm7R4n7vZuYRhdeaBW2Itc8o5TNH81GrNPV4efNQPGj1v07JMtUhFZ9qQkd-6lHhO64cxlvYwgiIiT_e5b6i8OjV-uANBu1xy1I4jsKpXm_VmG6aG/s320/100_9414.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309612907669155698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Telus World of Science in Vancouver<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKRu1IPFIdgpwYcbDWUAYVmZ6Ipz4m1qfoQKsDFfbZq4JaAwtW7_yWKoccBJla0sz38I0BN_aZaw68fzo5W9T50nYsLSHjHA05BwMchTL9Bnwrky8fDlcRGVtrj8MQ8-Rs2sYuf7BC81Y/s1600-h/100_9433.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKRu1IPFIdgpwYcbDWUAYVmZ6Ipz4m1qfoQKsDFfbZq4JaAwtW7_yWKoccBJla0sz38I0BN_aZaw68fzo5W9T50nYsLSHjHA05BwMchTL9Bnwrky8fDlcRGVtrj8MQ8-Rs2sYuf7BC81Y/s320/100_9433.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309613261798466946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Friendly tree I sat in for four or so hours on Saturday.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7aHZq2OYyVErW_jvalq_nIvY9UKR8Z2SxwPjmpF3UJJr070IJ-MQofOKhhsb9nGbmEpcLlKzUdGDhC1_kKvlf8vx4ilmNc-V_v95bd45Cu3a0aTwqq7vF0ZWisMZlVv9w5E1MJguYRpD/s1600-h/100_9544.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7aHZq2OYyVErW_jvalq_nIvY9UKR8Z2SxwPjmpF3UJJr070IJ-MQofOKhhsb9nGbmEpcLlKzUdGDhC1_kKvlf8vx4ilmNc-V_v95bd45Cu3a0aTwqq7vF0ZWisMZlVv9w5E1MJguYRpD/s320/100_9544.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309613607323363346" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">To be continued....</div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-55305061402518081222009-02-26T10:14:00.000-07:002009-02-26T10:14:00.446-07:00Autumn rainEdited for colour, contrast, plus the blurring around the corners. Taken around November, the rainy season in Squamish.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCLt2Y8mYGewU6QlkGUuVM_dxeZ3sVdLUlK5N2rkFHlNjVQNNznpQVUWh3aq66Uta2Pm7xb34uEV58hY_umowwCwuwjh7f3bxKrqo0jvhink02a44xrmhkx5HsXaUaDI0O9LWaJ3IMy9W/s1600-h/100_8871_4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCLt2Y8mYGewU6QlkGUuVM_dxeZ3sVdLUlK5N2rkFHlNjVQNNznpQVUWh3aq66Uta2Pm7xb34uEV58hY_umowwCwuwjh7f3bxKrqo0jvhink02a44xrmhkx5HsXaUaDI0O9LWaJ3IMy9W/s320/100_8871_4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303630478034760130" border="0" /></a>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-17139791427750427432009-02-25T03:02:00.007-07:002009-02-25T03:27:25.529-07:00FloweringShe said, I don't wash on Sunday<br />as she brushed aside the fear bells<br />barefoot prancing through the wooded<br />flash by dreams of sunny maples,<br />no thin saplings more.<br /><br />She turned and waited<br />whispered, I love freely now<br />showed her heart to me.<br /><br />She murmured something close<br />cool maple shade soothing old wounds<br />then set it free.<br /><br />When I walk through syrup sun<br />and shifting shafts of shade<br />I hear a flutter by<br />recalling trembling wings<br />of the heart that learned to flylime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-41555011922167183712009-02-25T02:27:00.004-07:002009-02-25T03:02:08.979-07:00The spider's web<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yvFnx05LJiG3-jHPwutQGPZ9mnw_3S_B5R95zzdELwBH5oJC5FU4925Ul76IY4yZfzR4EEkpbQrYdL57ocflX60rm51-J9mv7WOCujYvNCsiovjWKOHdWrj3uZ0x-gmoSXaARVIwOuwf/s1600-h/100_9379.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yvFnx05LJiG3-jHPwutQGPZ9mnw_3S_B5R95zzdELwBH5oJC5FU4925Ul76IY4yZfzR4EEkpbQrYdL57ocflX60rm51-J9mv7WOCujYvNCsiovjWKOHdWrj3uZ0x-gmoSXaARVIwOuwf/s320/100_9379.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306672191617099010" border="0" /></a>(It's a bit blurry when it's big, but this small, the image is not as cool...)<br />Taken last night on a walk at 2 in the morning with Hannah and Miranda. I just happened to have a camera with me (as always), so captured the tree we were admiring. Don't you think it makes an excellent creepy late night walk photo?lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-26572405105527971442009-02-24T01:03:00.011-07:002009-02-24T15:47:18.742-07:00The day I almost diedThese are some older pictures, but I haven't shared it yet besides with the people who went with me. I made it to almost the top of a mountain in two days!<br /><br />I wanted some adventure that weekend. In fact I was going to ask Kevin, Mr. Hardcore-in-shape, if he wanted to go for an extended hike in the afternoon. I am eating lunch when he comes over to me and asks if I'm up for a hiking overnight stay! How fantastic is this! I immediately agree and go to my room to pack and get ready.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50zS8sl8YJAU38fI1taPALXoPrv8rj17apy2jka16WLmMJxborsBmNcEpPXPziMcvsfTaJB-3olizOTnthwfUPXG1C-k6HQ5du2NfjwLYfgLApbWBa-n4wq0T2gRg-A7bA2Wibn5qdzJS/s1600-h/100_7835.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50zS8sl8YJAU38fI1taPALXoPrv8rj17apy2jka16WLmMJxborsBmNcEpPXPziMcvsfTaJB-3olizOTnthwfUPXG1C-k6HQ5du2NfjwLYfgLApbWBa-n4wq0T2gRg-A7bA2Wibn5qdzJS/s320/100_7835.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306271967732826114" border="0" /></a><br />After some delays, where Kevin took the longest to pack, we stopped to pick up a giant block of cheddar cheese from the cafeteria, numerous protein (and in my case, candy) bars, some supper for the road, along with four of those giant hiking backbacks filled to the top (with, in my case, much borrowed gear), we are off.<br /><br />To a completely different destination than we had originally planned.<br />Plan A involved a couple-hour hike, riding a cable car across a river to hike another hour to cabins for the night.<br /><br />Plan B involved us monkeying across the cable that held the car because we couldn't get keys to said cable car. In the dark, because we had taken too much time trying to find the keys.<br /><br />Plan C involved us climbing up an entire mountain in the dark, aided by flashlights and headlamps, setting up tents (in what we discovered was a thin layer of snow!), and getting up to climb to the top the next day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJB-jJE99TPS5MVXIx8NUg4XJ1QqveDgo43i2GHkq2Wd18J5T1AyPOhTV2XRU8_DGOhpYWI3IjWSi36jaTDn1lMUcgEvVsKUfjJdjSo2vD4sinYTLbGPSY55VG0hyphenhyphenwr90WRgbHecBn_dfi/s1600-h/100_7843.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJB-jJE99TPS5MVXIx8NUg4XJ1QqveDgo43i2GHkq2Wd18J5T1AyPOhTV2XRU8_DGOhpYWI3IjWSi36jaTDn1lMUcgEvVsKUfjJdjSo2vD4sinYTLbGPSY55VG0hyphenhyphenwr90WRgbHecBn_dfi/s320/100_7843.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306411184773492562" border="0" /></a><br />The overestimation of my physical ability pulled us down like the heavy bag on my back. Hannah offered to 'trade packs with me', which was generous considering she had no pack at the moment. She and Leah had split a bag so at any one point one person was burden-free. Even when I was unburdened, I was only keeping up to everyone else.<br /><br />Leah also traded packs with me once, and Kevin constantly stopped to wait for me. After five hours of hiking in the dark and cycling the weightless pack throughout our group (with a bias towards me), we made it above the snow line.<br /><br />This is at a time of year when there was no snow, so we ascended the seasons as we climbed the mountains.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2L0ZSm_Egl3CidWrEVTyF8Q2gVC7rJ8f9pWyxteOJbL7m06RZ5zleWhO5WosNB2W7QmRas_uAXxiorQzEViBhlBb6iGME-vD09WMvBGG3cjrj_ErbRLJmwnX9shDdEsJilpQarX6qvNRM/s1600-h/100_7794.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2L0ZSm_Egl3CidWrEVTyF8Q2gVC7rJ8f9pWyxteOJbL7m06RZ5zleWhO5WosNB2W7QmRas_uAXxiorQzEViBhlBb6iGME-vD09WMvBGG3cjrj_ErbRLJmwnX9shDdEsJilpQarX6qvNRM/s320/100_7794.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306271963100267138" border="0" /></a><br />This photo is what I woke up to the next morning. We took a few photos, ate breakfast, packed one bag to carry lunch and extra layers, and hit the trail again.<br /><br />We hiked above the level of the lake, into what became alpine meadowland. They were so picturesque, slightly reminiscent of some scene in the European mountains. Maybe Heidi was around the bend.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7s4xc91Gw9vR9xHD3jUwlD87RTOCTU6Do_5GhaE6M2OjGWFuF8_dAUlDwpaCgXa1_on242cBimdjv29tUl_k6gGiu7rfBDeNjSJoBm5nhPS5kBD8MQ4h0IITPSdovOPdrvC38DYq9_1-4/s1600-h/100_7844.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7s4xc91Gw9vR9xHD3jUwlD87RTOCTU6Do_5GhaE6M2OjGWFuF8_dAUlDwpaCgXa1_on242cBimdjv29tUl_k6gGiu7rfBDeNjSJoBm5nhPS5kBD8MQ4h0IITPSdovOPdrvC38DYq9_1-4/s320/100_7844.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306413499192288434" border="0" /></a><br />Being a city child, of course I hadn't eaten enough at breakfast, so every step I took drained me of an already low reserve of energy. Sarah, sticking to my painfully slow pace, urged me to take it step by step, and encouraged me with the promise of food once we reached the top.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHtHkge5yQh6HCUy4kGPm3AaD6XxPa4go8367HSJ_8Adan6aFXElCARndeRN-gDfKxr2l0avclqUwuTc70457sf7RCu_lha_K8NNTby0I7XsC7w8dyVNPzKrtiPveETaS9B5ht6qGx5vE/s1600-h/100_7879_3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHtHkge5yQh6HCUy4kGPm3AaD6XxPa4go8367HSJ_8Adan6aFXElCARndeRN-gDfKxr2l0avclqUwuTc70457sf7RCu_lha_K8NNTby0I7XsC7w8dyVNPzKrtiPveETaS9B5ht6qGx5vE/s320/100_7879_3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306498970476114466" border="0" /></a><br />There we had a picnic. My mood was elevated, my body was reenergized, and I knew that there would be no more climbing up. I clambered down the mountain like a nimble little mountain goat - well not quite, but I can say I survived the Garibaldi Hike.lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-76718948288712070172009-02-20T02:37:00.013-07:002009-02-20T03:25:19.816-07:00Commentary on the state of the Republic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cc/John_Napier.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 166px; height: 199px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cc/John_Napier.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>My Spherical Trigonometry class is hardcore. Glen, our tutor, is a great teacher who leads us along to the answer without actually making us go there. Actually, the best thing about Glen is that he makes us all interested, he tells a story about math. He'll tell us where this theorem originated, who did it, and a bit about that (supposedly) famous person. And how this completely changed math. (since we're learning theories in chronological order, we completely appreciate newer and better ones).<br /><br /><br />Glen pushes us and we just push back, darn it! Hannah became sick and Durgen didn't sleep for two nights because of a math assignment. We're all getting pretty good marks, making Glen's grading curve go to " H-E-double hockey sticks". And I was one of three students who apparently did what was almost unthinkable on 'Glen' assignments and got an A.<br /><br /><br />Most of the time, class ends, and we all just stay there doing work. I would probably think that it's a lot more sad if I wasn't part of it... In fact, we figured that we spend a <span style="font-style: italic;">minimum</span> of ten hours a day on math. (maximum averaged 18, more math than sleep!) And if you look at numbers of people who are thinking about math, it's always AT LEAST 17 (number of people in our class). And we get lovely conversations going at dinner with people who aren't even in the class!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2Z6tDSb6c8"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Wjx4RV9Kti2KJdN_5PA-TU1njm5TNyC5Y1gGxVYvPRd4UdZjS6hoevaiPsrccUpNG2LVAAZmQC4aBjDcskDrgrFxSsiHsK0jfT-jlVVVXkxM84xclkVYR_AYkwZ7xMIZ7Oh7epRMcB0L/s200/menelaus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304818289515901858" border="0" /></a>Is it normal to search YouTube for '<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2Z6tDSb6c8">tria</a><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2Z6tDSb6c8">ngle</a>'? Most of us have by now had several math dreams, or see Menelaus figures in between people you're having conversation with. (It's also known in our class as the Star Trek Theory. You can see it to the right.) When we meet each other in the hallway, we'll start talking about Sperical Trig. We honestly can't <span style="font-style: italic;">stop<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span>thinking about it! So to restate, our class is hardcore.<br /><br />Well as I said earlier this week, I was looking up propaganda posters for inspiration in style and feeling. I made this because we are all so devoted to our beloved Spherical Trigonometry. In fact, we decided to take a class picture in which everyone had part of a <a href="http://www.keypress.com/x5883.xml">lénart sphere</a> on their head. (A lénart sphere is a clear, basketball-sized glove you can draw on with wet-erase markers.) I think this would be more under 'political cartoon' genre than propaganda, but I still like it:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjWk4r8iizU78wzIahIS-8CpKnV10IV-D5VGJOee1ipqUPrTcPLtY3gRw99YWy341n71YeYRHtbxO8M8snEDmQQuRtjmw4C6dnvE62048chopwaLvCvjyUohBYx2JD7KdiaVsziSrD2P9/s1600-h/100_9363.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjWk4r8iizU78wzIahIS-8CpKnV10IV-D5VGJOee1ipqUPrTcPLtY3gRw99YWy341n71YeYRHtbxO8M8snEDmQQuRtjmw4C6dnvE62048chopwaLvCvjyUohBYx2JD7KdiaVsziSrD2P9/s400/100_9363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304812681660936386" border="0" /></a><br />It's modeled after the American <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pledge_of_allegiance">Pledge of Allegiance</a>, with a couple of small modifications... Oh, and that thing in the background is a diagram of Napier's rules for Sines (and cosines and tangents)... This is what I created! I'm excited and amused by myself. Even though I was being vague so as not to ruin the surprise, I even asked Glen if I could boost my mark with it.lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-46230930409296871282009-02-17T14:38:00.000-07:002009-02-17T14:38:00.813-07:00Captured light<div style="text-align: center;">Annie, my Molecular Biology teacher from last black, decided to start a photo club. We have a theme for each month, and anyone can submit up to 3 pictures on the theme. Then we all get together and view a slideshow, discussing each shot. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwy8n474KWb3oPNwuq2kiRDigtxHQCYgwGIuUs2oRmbkDg_ODcWMPn0YGS8QnlUsGK0V5YHMuNduwgFxc35OJ5-A8aDBrsuGPk2z3qf5hPFl0BJq000t1_k_saJs3fzww8cpY6MVamx-y/s1600-h/100_8594_3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAwy8n474KWb3oPNwuq2kiRDigtxHQCYgwGIuUs2oRmbkDg_ODcWMPn0YGS8QnlUsGK0V5YHMuNduwgFxc35OJ5-A8aDBrsuGPk2z3qf5hPFl0BJq000t1_k_saJs3fzww8cpY6MVamx-y/s320/100_8594_3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303514824184965458" border="0" /></a>These are the three I submitted. Trees on a foggy day with increased contrast, Quest at night with only minor overall colour adjusted (there are two different colours for the different lights around campus, I simply made it more red overall)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamO_m25hT3aLhEKjOO6y6Pr9CKAafxq8s1MCaAjw56K7dCu4KemZLydPjU7i3duubwc5-6wRI3gYKZYy6Whyphenhyphen_IHpyfk32IqiCwq5PnbIccBI_mfFViOk14u1CTJJC5l8kIh13aGwpDlCF/s1600-h/100_7500_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamO_m25hT3aLhEKjOO6y6Pr9CKAafxq8s1MCaAjw56K7dCu4KemZLydPjU7i3duubwc5-6wRI3gYKZYy6Whyphenhyphen_IHpyfk32IqiCwq5PnbIccBI_mfFViOk14u1CTJJC5l8kIh13aGwpDlCF/s320/100_7500_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303514819521784098" border="0" /></a>Planty things with light on them... I don't actually know what they are, fuzzy things...<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4CaUKQxrEZ01PFS_9d_JOM8BbC4TFVqxov4No26LflicqvaTIu3Q0iwp9ERa-i6XqWQcknnuGU0NhXPoJj0tqtZbEHpb60uUHv0R2-sqFKPHQPEUK1ppC14Q90sVwsa7SO_vi61UhuaY/s1600-h/100_7445.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4CaUKQxrEZ01PFS_9d_JOM8BbC4TFVqxov4No26LflicqvaTIu3Q0iwp9ERa-i6XqWQcknnuGU0NhXPoJj0tqtZbEHpb60uUHv0R2-sqFKPHQPEUK1ppC14Q90sVwsa7SO_vi61UhuaY/s320/100_7445.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303514812123958130" border="0" /></a>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-75203451314917186202009-02-16T13:11:00.018-07:002009-02-16T23:31:47.791-07:00We Want YouThis is for you, Jon. And Sam, too. So I went to <a href="http://litfoh.wordpress.com/">La Ligne Verte</a> and at the bo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCbYhm8FUjwhLtonuXy3HULGsylMNUmeF9spNFqVtQgwGAf58UnTjiMubqi5BYxEML9P_yfJGvflh0z5HMvqVDYSKazgqtXRp0LZWsWERZWqGwB1gvrXNCb3ESY-tCx0j-CbXtKEfbpts/s1600-h/woche.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCbYhm8FUjwhLtonuXy3HULGsylMNUmeF9spNFqVtQgwGAf58UnTjiMubqi5BYxEML9P_yfJGvflh0z5HMvqVDYSKazgqtXRp0LZWsWERZWqGwB1gvrXNCb3ESY-tCx0j-CbXtKEfbpts/s200/woche.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303649634495102226" border="0" /></a>ttom was the Grammar Natzee poster. Coincidentally, today in spherical trigonometry I was looking at propaganda posters for inspiration. Some of my favourites are:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguH00z2ehbqw9GmBif-R3ZuUbo4Dw1p8ozWsuFRmlDzxgQBi6h0nbAduqouWYbdAPr2QKhyphenhyphenbh8dytPeQ5pGqb15FO7Z2JkmXA_D_wStRLV3fupnZrIwwAAM7lQusrxw2c4kEFmo2ebxeT0/s1600-h/a55_liberators.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguH00z2ehbqw9GmBif-R3ZuUbo4Dw1p8ozWsuFRmlDzxgQBi6h0nbAduqouWYbdAPr2QKhyphenhyphenbh8dytPeQ5pGqb15FO7Z2JkmXA_D_wStRLV3fupnZrIwwAAM7lQusrxw2c4kEFmo2ebxeT0/s320/a55_liberators.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303492228612458882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.listphile.com/Propaganda_Poster_Collections_Online/UK_WWI_Propaganda_Posters/image/uk_wwi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 212px;" src="http://www.listphile.com/Propaganda_Poster_Collections_Online/UK_WWI_Propaganda_Posters/image/uk_wwi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>What I love about these is that they're simple, bold, and direct. I've chosen posters with different art styles. The "join now" is black on yellow, eye-catching, bold and simple. It's to the point. Do it. The "Liberators" is something like what we would see in a newspaper. It's more nuanced, with political statements about what America does (and doesn't) represent. It's a Nazi poster against the U.S., and gets on some of those historically touchy subjects in the U.S. I really like the "Ja" poster's art, it seems more real. Maybe that's the point of the poster. The goal of this one is to get people to vote yes in a referendum.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">It's advertising. In politics.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcpfbpdBsGzEYyEP0TafJwTtv9aFatX1921yujj95cXe-1sSlMXCoFlNOX9nCIDsPMoN1nLmkuuUCsuY0q3M2oX6LDwGq0gUX3D3Ihb02eRkdMLXbaqe4Pd5K5pfAcXZb6R_WJbch8Tr9/s1600-h/ja3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcpfbpdBsGzEYyEP0TafJwTtv9aFatX1921yujj95cXe-1sSlMXCoFlNOX9nCIDsPMoN1nLmkuuUCsuY0q3M2oX6LDwGq0gUX3D3Ihb02eRkdMLXbaqe4Pd5K5pfAcXZb6R_WJbch8Tr9/s400/ja3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303650013047446418" border="0" /></a></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-16965287524170714422009-01-25T13:49:00.003-07:002009-01-25T14:09:50.578-07:00Extra-physical: numerology<a href="http://www.paulsadowski.com/birthday.asp">This link</a> takes you to a so-called birthday calculator. Numerology is one of those controversial 'sciences'. Those who have a disposition towards these things sees how it works beautifully with their lives. Others scoff that the location of Pluto at your birth has any effect on your personality. I tend to swing back and forth on the issue, but I do think that the success of numerology, like most things in life, depends heavily on your mindset.<br /><br />Once I entered a bookstore in Squamish. The owner was into numerology. The wooden floors creaked and books of spirit filled the first shelves leading down the long shop. My friend and I had entered about ten minutes before closing, but Margaret, the owner, let us browse around. When it came time for me to choose between three books, numerology came out. Margaret found the number of each author's name to see if it matched my own. Then she locked us in the warm store and whispered reverently about Elvis Presley's birthday. She told us about personality traits manifesting themselves in our physical bodies. She confided that I had discening eyes and trusted to me the secret of using the 'white light'.<br /><br />Margaret had been a waitress for many years, had taught herself some people skills that made her a compelling server. Her ability to weave a story and keep you, with a mix of interest and sticky uncertain escape, struck me and stays with me still.lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-9366593109947166072008-11-27T17:13:00.001-07:002009-01-25T22:56:43.693-07:00Cold Night<div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTXaX_a-sbJzSRb1ezD8IJo3pQ4KYvHx9lum57_YuHVlTvjOUlSiDpAnRfTNlTI8TJPc7UKuSlyjDFjBtIDHM1bpIqNVx712G3yhyphenhyphenmKxRQu3aF7YK9Ciq607HN-veE8j8DqPj1yC12J-V/s1600-h/100_8296_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTXaX_a-sbJzSRb1ezD8IJo3pQ4KYvHx9lum57_YuHVlTvjOUlSiDpAnRfTNlTI8TJPc7UKuSlyjDFjBtIDHM1bpIqNVx712G3yhyphenhyphenmKxRQu3aF7YK9Ciq607HN-veE8j8DqPj1yC12J-V/s400/100_8296_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273123946809552450" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This picture was taken three nights ago when I was helping Julian make his picture movie. (His personal project)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Frost! It's cute and sparkly, though not as much in this photo as it looked to my eyes. That's the joy of photography, isn't it?<br /><br /></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-82160975624566189312008-11-26T14:23:00.004-07:002008-11-26T14:28:30.523-07:00First good photo in a while<div style="text-align: center;">Took this picture a couple days ago. It was the perfect lighting, right near the end of the sun-day, and by the time we had hiked back down to the bottom of the path it was dark.<br />Plus, it was the third time I've been there and I'm getting more in shape! ;)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEn8Sxs-ORgwnN6cOitcIVrPlqhpa5MfDR-MEPyx9wzBeD05syZtlFLJSfGVwx1h5mSMMuaFbtTU0jTklAqnvJaxHHB6ujcgdrjSSHwdXROzvxA2mwDjUFT0rSNvZWi3feu_tNe2x7-GY/s1600-h/100_8343_3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEn8Sxs-ORgwnN6cOitcIVrPlqhpa5MfDR-MEPyx9wzBeD05syZtlFLJSfGVwx1h5mSMMuaFbtTU0jTklAqnvJaxHHB6ujcgdrjSSHwdXROzvxA2mwDjUFT0rSNvZWi3feu_tNe2x7-GY/s400/100_8343_3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273080181329592594" border="0" /></a><br /></div>lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-24204122853277041072008-11-25T21:42:00.003-07:002008-11-25T21:47:19.746-07:00I hope it's satisfyingly descriptiveThe weight of some sort of existential-depressive crisis has hit me today like a lead-beaded sledgehammer, soft bong bong bong of heartsrtings that seem stretchy enough to withstand, and not break with, each impact. Or was that someone banging on the fortress walls I've built without noticing? But of course, they've not noticed either....lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-15792585932270958192008-11-25T20:28:00.000-07:002008-11-25T21:47:42.592-07:00For Grandpapa:Fall away from here,<br />Go and hide your soul<br />Bury it in the warm sands of His love<br /><br />Falling up,<br />The good ones are always falling up<br />Wrenching out hearts as they fall<br />We love you so<br />Ascend<br /><br />You finished your life's work<br />And left us to puzzle over it<br />Unappreciative of your art<br />Watch us learn, wait patiently<br />As we, inspired, build up<br /><br />Did you know where you fit?<br />A wise too for His work<br />We may look, but not see<br /><br />Your eyes are bright<br />As we rise to the occasion<br />Hoping to catch your dreams<br />In the clouds of your love<br /><br />Falling up<br />We can't stop you<br />Only climb higher in our lives<br />To achieve His ends<br />In your honourlime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-74953688470077066072008-11-25T18:16:00.006-07:002008-11-25T18:30:20.633-07:00Where do I belong?Oh goodness, I am in reformulation at this very moment. I no longer want the same.<br /><br />My life is much more straightforward, listening to the right music to feed my soul.<br /><br />This playground I had abandoned, in a fit of grown-up illusions when I thought I no longer fit this. And my need. Though maybe I have... but today I youthen back to that simple need.<br /><br />I've become much enamored with writing, but not the kind I used to do here. I hope one day to keep this as my notebook. A place of comfort, like one of those leatherbound notebooks with creamy pages inviting you to dive in the ink of your thoughts without reserve, without pretense, without the relative non-comfort of interfacing with the foreign. Of course, dreams live in the clouds, far from my childish reach. Today I feel as though I were floating, so maybe I am closer.lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-81425597328989615232008-09-27T01:49:00.003-06:002008-09-27T01:54:05.894-06:00forms of expressionAt the open mike night two weeks ago, Caroline sat with her guitar and opened her little mouth to let out some astonishingly amazing tunes. It's so inspirational, and on the other hand, quite intimidating. Who am I to want to sing? How could I dare open my mouth to utter a single syllable when she can, with that same syllable, convey oceans?<br /><br /><br />But if I sang my soul, even clumsily strumming my troubles.... what can take away the beauty of that? Do I not exist to express myself? Why should I not share some tiny bit of myself with the world who does not know me...lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-55489405814272783992008-09-22T21:31:00.003-06:002008-09-22T21:46:52.852-06:00A meditation spotI long for a perch. Two endless ropes ropes reaching into the heavens, a beam between them. High enough above the sidewalks, the fences, the houses, the high-rise apartments, the skyscrapers, that they form cute colourful carpet, like a child's playmat. Just me and those long, long ropes, so long that I cannot see how they are affixed in the surrounding blue. Perhaps God had had mercy on me, took me in his hand and carefully deposited me on this perch, so as to keep me safe, isolated by a cushion of blue sky. Worries could not reach me here. Not even birds, metal or feathered, came to this place. Nor was this mine; it would be the first and last time I could seek this blue space - peace - as refuge. Time had no meaning; an eternity here would return me still to the moment I had left, and even after having spent unmeasurable amounts of time in this place, it would still feel as though I had only just begun. I must return soon. The pain of my human state was that time was constantly passing, one could only do so much with one's life. It was what gave life meaning, the redeeming quality of humanity.<br /><br />Swing, I could! Pump my legs to gain height, gravity still weakly in effect. At first my movements feel like vain struggling in an apathetic ocean, but soon the two endless ropes bend. Swing wide, a huge deliberate arc, as though the only purpose was to swing. Swing through the whole sky, stretch to infinity. Swing higher, barefly faster, but there it was! Higher still, achieve more than ever before, faster too, keep going... Close to the tipping point, the swing jumps from the arc for a second, real flight! Then a huge swing back, higher, more. Once more a momentary escape from the arc, once more a giant tug back, the air rushing past my ears, a third swing to freedom, lay back and whistle through the wind, an arrow for its target, freedom, freedom, freedom!<br /><br />Flying falling freedomlime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-3361329155448921182008-09-22T20:16:00.002-06:002008-09-22T20:20:05.568-06:00An epiphany?Thinking back to last Thursday.... we were on Adventure Pursuits, meaning that instead of going to the classroom to discuss our readings on Rousseau or the Biblical creation story, we hiked around a lake and did team activities. At one point, with everyone gathered around one of the 400-year-old trees in the old growth forest, next to a small sheltered bank of the lake, Torren read to us a passage from one of his favourite books. It talked about nature, and man's relation to it. Torren voiced the huge amounts of water used for growing crops and animals worldwide, or per pound of rice, wheat, or meat. The numbers were staggeringly huge, so much so that I would not be able to understand immediately the consequences of such consumption. However, it was clear to me, in that moment, that the course of action for me to take would be to become vegetarian.<br /><br />Of course, I follow the Epicurius "everything in moderation (including moderation)". Therefore, I will eat meat once a month or something. So far, I have been vegetarian for a week, though it feels like longer ....Though that could be because of the Quest Time Effect - that one day at Quest feels like three normal dayslime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-589783400359240546.post-59486394020461107922008-09-20T14:16:00.004-06:002008-09-22T21:47:30.510-06:00Last nightMy eyes could see the dusty light on the otherwise dark forest... discerning between the shadows and light even though I couldn't see my penstrokes on paper. The giant forest. I imagine a person at the mouth of the dark entrance, insignificant enough to be swallowed with ease by the black sea and pine spikes. From somewhere off I could hear giggles, the warm breath of friendship. A solitary train bellowed mournfully in the night. Did anyone hear? Would they listen?lime59http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375995894716284296noreply@blogger.com0