Today I am wearing gray and Matthew is wearing green. What that says about us I don't know but... I am still deciding whether I think this whole idea of a BLOG has any purpose. I guess it's nice to have a diary, but a diary that other people read is a strange thing. Maybe if anything interesting ever happened we could talk about that. Maybe someone should ask Matt about his Sea-enemy experience. The tortoise is growing, seems healthy. He really likes watermelon, which is okay for him cause he is an African tortoise and that's where watermelon is from, strangely enough. Matt's aquarium seems to be doing well, the polyps are sprouting and some new red flower things have appeared, also there are these wormy-things that we can't decide whether they're worms or the tentacles of some hidden creature. Pretty boring, I know, but I'm writing for Paul's sake.

The idea of religion has been with us for quite some time. Almost all known cultures have some form of it, influencing every society to different extents. I am of two viewpoints as to the origins of religion. For a while I was a staunch believer in the theory that religion sprouted from the need for a better way to control the masses. You take people and convince them that they no longer have to worry about earthly rewards, ie. fun, happiness, survival, etc., but rather that all they need worry about is the rewards that they will receive after the fact, ie: heaven, Nirvana, Valhalla, etc. Thus can someone treat another as cruelly as necessary for the task at hand (farming, laying railroads, working in dangerous factories) and face no fear of uprising because the underling feels that he must bear the burdens without complaint or retribution (as Jesus would) because he will be well rewarded in the afterlife. It is a great system. Once you have convinced the masses that this life has no purpose other than to serve God...I have to go out now...I will continue this shortly. I promise.

Natur ruft! So they say in Deutschland. My soul must off. Off to the great yon whence it came. Please let me frolic and wade in the rushing water, shimmery glisteny coolness. We will go to the Zoar today. It should be fun, we expect sun, fun, danger from hairy bears, and the usual outdoor nature danger-oh no...Holly's falling from the cliff...Someone save her. Whoops, there she went. Hmmm. Better go get her now, she's not really moving... I'm not really worried, we're always okay in the end. Should we bring the tortell? Bosra, you wanna come? My only fear is that we'll lose her, and have to spend like 4 hours searching for her, and then we'll find her under a rock about a foot from where we lost her. Well, I must brush my toofeses till they gleaming pearl. Bye for now, this installment is to an end.

Waking up, so very difficult in the morning, and evermore so at any other time. What time is it, where am I, and other such nonsense rushes through my head as a yawn forces my mouth agape. Already my nostrils are filling with the scent of a new day, the strawberries I ran over yesterday, their stench wonderfully sweet, call my name. My eyes are still waking but my legs follow an invisible trail directly to the source. Just as I can begin to pick out hazy details of my surroundings the mouth starts its work, gobbling sweet berry mush with unabashed fervor.
What a life it is, what a life it is. The new owners seem genuinely interested in my well being, I am eating fresh green meals, no more of that shit from the can. At first I had been afraid, but I was starting to accept the newness of it. The bright spot on the ground that had so upset me upon our first encounters was now revealed to be the perfect basking spot, bringing hours of unmitigated warmth.
It is dipping time. Every day I am dipped. Once again my fear rises and subsides into gentle warm bliss. Water tickels my nostrils and I inhale, inducing violent bubbly exhalations. Calm again, I bring my lips to the water and taste life. Where my body is unable to relax, it loosens itslef from the day's grime, shimmering in the fierce brilliance. The wonder of it remains ignorant of the squirming stool slipping away behind. I drink and I muse of times remembered and those half forgotten, searching and finding, eating and napping, mother and cardboard, eating good and eating bad.
The water is tepid too tepid. Restless are my feet and my claws flex, their honed sharpness faintly marring the plastic enclosure's walls. The water too becomes restless as if sensing my frenzy. But here it is. The hand that holds once again returning me to land. My body trembles and my legs are inside without having been asked. It is warm again. My underside is slowly asorbing a soothing heat from below. Suffusing my being from head to toe. Oh what a life. What a life indeed.

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