Portrait of a Bear

Daphne PsaledakisLeave a comment

It seemed as though the bears had multiplied over the winter. The summer before had been filled with distress calls to wildlife control, news reports of bears all over the county, and the not so rare sighting. This year, however, officials reported a record number of calls for help, my own grandmother accounting for many of them, because a bear had broken into someone’s house and they had been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of the refrigerator being raided for a midnight snack. Bears were no longer afraid to meander into town and did so at their leisure. I remember working at the bakery one day and a customer came running in, shouting that a baby bear was stuck in a tree a couple blocks over. It made the headlines the next day.

My friends told their stories of running into a bear, whether it be hiking in the middle of the day or walking home at night. I would refuse to walk the short distance from work to my house after getting let out at midnight. I would beg friends for rides if my dad had already fallen asleep, but even so, I often ended up walking. I did my best to avoid any situation where I would run into a bear, but I wasn’t completely successful.

I had been babysitting a boy who lived up the road from me. Because it was such a short distance from my house to theirs, the dad walked me home instead of driving. We were walking, talking about his kid, when we passed under a tree. The night before us was made pitch black from the shadow of the moon, and we heard a twig snap. Immediately our attention was drawn upwards from focusing on the road in front of us. Not even five feet away I could barely see the silhouette of a bear. He was huge, bigger than I expected. I am certain he was taller than me, even when standing on all fours. He didn’t even look at us.

Surprised out of our minds the dad and I jumped to the other side of the road. As soon as we were out from under the shadow of the tree we could no longer see him. He had the perfect camouflage. We continued the short way to my house, where I practically ran inside.

What struck me was that had it not been for that twig, an insignificant object we pass by on a daily basis without second thought, we would never have seen the bear. We would have walked right into him. Even though we were scared out of our minds, and stood on the other side of the road scarcely daring to breathe, the bear never even looked at us. We were as insignificant to him as a rabbit.

After that, I would absolutely refuse to walk home. If my friends hadn’t driven, I would call my house repeatedly until my dad woke up and drove the seven blocks to come get me. Seeing the bear, taller than me even when he wasn’t standing up, absolutely undetectable had it not been for that one twig, made me realize just how powerful those animals are. It is a beautiful sort of power though. Being so dark one can blend into the night, so silent that one can go unnoticed until someone has walked into you, and so huge that even the bravest person would follow their instinct of flight. To me there is nothing more majestic.

Demon Geese

indigoshell3 Comments

It was hot and muggy, just another day in Missouri. The peacocks were calling, the insects were buzzing, and complaints could be heard all around. I remember walking quietly to my next course when several horrified children run past me.

They were screaming “DEMON GEESE!!”

Goose

No, not really.

We did have three fairly aggressive geese roaming the camp though. Whenever someone would walk just a tad too close to them those darned birds would start honking and pecking at their feet, occasionally giving actual chase. Sometimes they would ignore the accidental provoker and attack an innocent bystander instead.

HONK

Honestly those three geese were sort of cowards. They pretend to be all scary but really they just bluff and honk, I’ve never heard of them actually inflicting damage on any camper.

One of my best friends during camp liked to holler and chase them back to the lake, while I personally liked to slowly wander closer to them until I got them mad. Then I let them chase me around a little until I have to get to my classes.

The honest question here is why are geese always so angry?

Maybe because we don’t take them seriously enough.

The Old Gum Tree

indigoshellLeave a comment

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
What a life you lead

Many in this world do not know what a kookaburra is, even more have not seen or touched one.

Many would not know that the kookaburra’s call doesn’t sound like a laugh – it’s more of a demonic monkey yelling at the unfairness of the world.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry, merry little bird is he
Sing, Kookaburra! Sing, Kookabura!
Sing your song for me.

Many would not know how large and cuddly these birds are, how soft and downy their chest feathers are.

Many would not know the gleam of light cyan in their wings, how minuscule the feathers are and how they catch the light so easily.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Eating all the gum drops he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
Leave some there for me

Many would not know how picky a kookaburra will be with a frozen mouse.

Many would not know that kookaburras would even eat frozen mice.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Counting all the monkeys he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
That’s not a monkey that is me.

Many would not know how hard it is to perfect the kookaburra call, as well as getting them to call back to you.

Many would not know that if you stroke his belly and then push on his legs, you could get Stevie to sit on your hand while you pet his head.

Sarah and William

indigoshellLeave a comment

All over the internet, a new trend has been circulating.

Sloths.

Me Gusta

Creepy sloths. Creepy sloths everywhere. Do people really know what they’re like? My guess is that not many people have seen sloths in real life.

Over the summer I spent six weeks at Cub Creek Science Camp and got to take care of a very wide variety of animals. Among my favorite were two two-toed sloths, Sarah and William.

Sarah Lookalike

Sarah was the more active one, slowly and carefully wandering around and around her pen. “Don’t touch her face!” warned many, many counselors. “Don’t let her grab you! Don’t let her bite you! Don’t feed her! Sit down on the stool and don’t move!”

“You can feed her and pet her if you’re very careful,” said Billy, a very mellow counselor that taught the “Jungle” class, which is where the sloths are located.

William was the one always sleeping in the corner of the enclosure and only awakened when I brought him a little lettuce. Only lettuce though, since William will take one bite of an apple and then drop it to the ground.

Sarah though, eats both apples and lettuce. Neither of them seem to like the sweet potatoes very much and I often wonder why they even have sweet potatoes anyways since none of the animals seem to like sweet potatoes.

After feeding Sarah her apples she would stare at me with her deep brown eyes and slowly reached her odd clawed hands towards me. Any other person would be told to duck and cover but I reach out and stroke her claw, playing a strange little game of keep-away. It’s true that if they grab on they won’t let go until they bite it, but I’m careful enough to not get grabbed.

When camp ended and I returned to OVS I felt myself pining for my summercamp and its animals. No, not for the dwarf miniature horse (my gods he’s small), not for the towering camel, but for the strangely charming sloths that have plagued the internet.

Not that I’m complaining about them.

photo 21629120-2068-4857-94bd-ee0c68376bae.jpg

Dawn Patrol

Daphne PsaledakisLeave a comment

Today, for the first time, I decided to join Dawn Patrol. Dawn Patrol is a small group of students at my school who head to the beach at 6:15 on Sunday morning to learn how to surf.

Now, I’ve been telling myself for years that I wanted to learn how to surf. It’s always been something that fascinates me. I love movies about surfing, and I think it’s an amazing skill to have.

I’ve actually been surfing twice – once with a family friend when we lived in San Francisco, and then once when we were in Cabo. But those times I never did more that ride the whitewater to the shore. Today, I went past the point where the waves were breaking, which was a brand new experience for me.

It didn’t exactly go as planned.

As it turns out, when you’re about to be hit by a wave and you’re my size (about 5’2″), the wave looks a heck of a lot bigger. It’s also a lot easier to be tossed around. I had a really hard time getting past the point where the waves were breaking, but once I did, it was amazing.

I didn’t ride very many waves. But the amazing part of the trip for me was sitting on my surfboard in the ocean, feeling the swells come up and down underneath me, and watching the sunrise and the fog clear away. It was an incredible feeling.

I did only catch two waves, once after I got out, and then again when I was ready to go back in. I didn’t stand up, in fact I did the exact opposite and got tossed around quite a bit. On my last wave, the board hit me in the face while I was underwater, which wasn’t very pleasant.

Overall though, the trip was worth it. I may not have made huge progress, but at least I got out there and started to get a feel for it. And watching the sun rise was perfect.

I definitely plan on going again. Maybe after I catch up on my sleep though.

A Little Change in Scenery

Daphne PsaledakisLeave a comment

This summer, I was lucky enough to go to South Africa for five weeks. Because I was there for so long, I feel like I can’t just write about it in one blog post. So I’ll write about one part of it now, and another part later, and eventually you guys will get the whole story.

That’s the idea at least.

A couple months before school ended, my dad and I scrambled to pull together this trip for me. I wanted to go visit my old babysitter, who I hadn’t seen in about ten years.

Only thing is, she lives in Cape Town, South Africa. Somehow we pulled it off, and I found myself on an 18-hour plane ride a couple days after school let out for the summer.

My dad warned me before I left that it would be winter there, and that it would be cold. I basically told him he was being silly. I mean it’s Africa right? No way it could be cold.

Wrong.

It was freezing. I optimistically brought my shorts and sandals with me (along with jeans and boots, thankfully), and I definitely could have saved myself the extra weight. I never even put them on.

I lived in jeans, boots, sweatshirts, and down vests. It was freezing, and made even worse by the fact that there was no central heating. The only way to escape the cold was to take a nice long bath. Nevertheless, we still got out and explored.

The scenery in Cape Town is stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it. You look one direction and see mountains, and you look the other way and see nothing but blue ocean.

The mountains aren’t the same as they are here – there are less trees and more rocks and flowers. The views it allows of the city are breathtaking. Every direction you look there is something new to see, something beautiful and different from anything you could find in the states.

It’s absolutely amazing to see.

Cape Town

Speak emotion, not words

frog3Leave a comment

fef

When a human speaks what comes out?

Is it failures, hopes, dreams?

Do the words represent freedom?

Or just a logical way to communicate?

Humanity has not always been united in this regard.

Thousands of cultures have existed.

These ancient people made art, tools, and crafted language.

Progress always had it’s price.

Skin color, cultural values, and language all warped.

People could their differences to others.

It is these differences that has caused conflict.

A False Democracy

frog3Leave a comment

gtjk4lghjk4

An entity was built a while ago.

Its purpose is not always known.

Sometimes it serves.

Other times it does not.

It’s inaction lets a nation rot.

Angry people yell and frustrate easily.

Yet never blame themselves for a problem they create.

The powerful man was given his power.

Not by sword but by the check of a ballot box.

Why should one blame an evil that they create?

It is the will and determination of one citizen that can make all the difference.

Democracy or dictatorship, in a sense the citizens choose.

When not happy a single spark of injustice can change a nation.

Phonebloks: The Phone of the future

callmemaybe32Leave a comment

Last night I was on Facebook, just cruising as I do and I see a link shared by my Dad’s company.

The caption of this video was this, “Very interesting idea. Would you adopt this phone technology? // #phoneblocks”

I was like, “well this might be interesting.”

I have had an iPhone for 5 years. I got the iPhone 3 on my 13th birthday, and from there I haven’t thought about having any other phone.

Droids have come out and the iPhone still seems better. The Galaxy series came out, and still the iPhone seems better, but this Blok phone is the 1st phone that I have thought about actually switching to.

This phone isn’t out yet, but the concept is great.

Electronic waste is an ever-growing thing in this world, and our phones are contributing to this issue greatly.

Our phones aren’t made to last, they are made to last until a new one comes out and then suddenly stuff starts to break.

This block concept eliminates the phasing out of the entire phone.

There is a block for every component of the phone, so if one breaks, you just replace that block.

It allows the user the ability to customize their phone. Photographers can upgrade to a bigger camera, old people can go simple so they know what the hell they are doing and don’t have to ask me how to press a button that says “phone” to use the phone.

(Love you mom).

This idea needs funding, and it needs to be spread across to all of the executives across the country so people know about it.

On October 29 they will send a blast out to all major companies to try to get the process rolling.

They need our help to get the word out.

Go to phonebloks.com and join the Thunderclap so that they can get enough people to make their dream a reality.

Not only could this introduce a brand new, very cool phone to the market, but it could cut down on waste and help the general well-being of the world we live in.

Doll House

kirbyfullyloaded1 Comment

I have terrible nightmares 5/7 days of the week.  Here’s my most recent one.

I was in a house. The halls were washed with ghastly bluish-purple light, the color of a fresh bruise.  The kind of bruise where the blood is mere millimeters from leaking out of the damaged skin.  The walls were covered with photographs in dull black frames. Photographs, with dusty, cracked glass laying spider webs over sallow, sagging faces. All other manner of macabre things hung alongside the photographs. Things… I can’t even describe. Not a centimeter of the walls was visible.  They bulged, distended like sick a stomach, breathing in and out with slow, rasping breaths stirring the musky air.  The decorations breathed with them, watching, waiting, and smiling.

I realized the things on the walls were half eaten, disintegrated beyond the point recognition.  They were shells to an anemone, digested and pushed back out as to create armor for the soft-bodied mouth-stomach.

I found myself, against my will, walking into a room.  The door locked.  And the floor beneath me, the bed beside me everything was inhaling, feverishly trying to pull me in, to get closer.

And then the dolls came.

They marched and crawled and slid and rolled out of the walls with their button eyes dangling, ogling, bouncing madly from their heads on invisible tethers.  Their red, smiling mouths dripped with viscous blackness, filth bubbling forth from lips like rotting sausages.

They reached for me, groaning and laughing with their hollow, putrid, sweet voices echoing terribly around the room.

All the while the house tried to suck me down, somewhere dank and foul, into its roiling stomach.

It wanted to me…  To devour me and digest, to make me part of the decorated walls.  To use my bones as armor and garnish its halls with my skin until it decayed into a mass of putrescence too fetid and melting to drape across the picture frames.

I don’t believe in God. But when they first emerged and started toward me I fell to my knees and begged God or something -anything to save me.

And of course, nothing came.  As I knew it wouldn’t.  There is no God.  And nothing will ever save me but myself.

I burst through the door, the wood of the door frame too weak to hold the rusting lock. The dolls chased me, coming slowly, but steadily with their jerking, broken movements, and the floor rolling and pitching and trying to throw me back into their rotting fabric arms.

Now they were corpses and dolls at together. Flesh melting off their stuffed fabric bones, the smell of rot and mothballs and decaying silk filling the air, their stringy hair writing and hissing like snakes.

The bruise-light made their white, white skin look monstrous… Thickened, oxygen-less blood sloughed like pig slop behind their papery skin.  There was a gruesome, delighted gleam in their black button eyes.  One that promised a gristly embrace when they caught me.  And there was no doubt that they would… No doubt at all…