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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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The White Board
The White Board
 
For meandering thoughts, and mindful walks...for rants and pouts, and blowing off steam. For happy days and sad days, for crazy adventures and delightful victories! :)
September 29, 2008 at 7:06pm September 29, 2008 at 7:06pm
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This past Friday I was invited to Lansing to go to a place called Magdelena's Tea House to read some of my poetry. A friend of mine was headlining that evening. It was awesome, but the best part was...they really, really liked my stuff! The audience ranged froma blue-haired lady to kids with purple and orange hair. There were people of all ages, orientations and genders...and they liked what I read. Now, granted, I was no 'Quela.'
Quela got up they and had all her stuff memorized and she really emoted! Me? I sat and read. Sure, I looked at the audience etc, but I basically read my work. People had tears! People laughed. People hugged. It was so freeking awesome!
And they want me to come back in November! *dances a happy dance*
The other cool part was running into several folks that are also on Writing.Com. We chatted and when I mentioned 'Fyndorian', which is who I am on WDC, I got...'Oh you're Fyndorian? I know you!' Too cool! |
September 14, 2008 at 8:54pm September 14, 2008 at 8:54pm
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Another slice of life as seen from the convenience store.....
Recipe for a Full Blown Panic
Take one Hurricane aiming dead on for the nation's largest oil refineries.
Stir in a healthy dose of media madness screaming about prices jumping to 5 or 6 dollars a gallon..
Fold in two local gas stations (not mine) experiencing some sort of internal confusion resulting in an EIGHTY-FIVE CENT jump in their gas prices over mine.
Simmer in a Friday night pressure cooker and BAM!
Instant FULL BLOWN PANIC!
It took two cashiers, me, my other half and two police officers to control round-the-block lines of people screaming and yelling and punching and, generally, acting like two year olds. Then came dessert. I had to raise our prices. Not, mind you, to the extreme of $4.69 down the street, but a more reasonable $4.21.
*That's MY spot. I was here first. No, I was here first!!! Well, my car is bigger than yours! I'm blocked in. I want in. I can't get out, move your car! No, I'll lose my spot. I need gas. I didn't know my gas tank was on that side! I must have moved. (!!!) I NEED gas. OMG, they will run out before I get MY gas. Raising the price? You can't do that! Look! The station down the street is out of gas! I will not move my car until I get gas!*
Strains of Chicken Little....the sky is falling...the sky is falling!
$30,000 dollars later we are exhausted. Everyone got their gas....we didn't run out until midway through day 2 of the mob mentality. Today our gas is on sale for $4.17. It is teeming rain as the last dregs of TS Ike blow out over Michigan. And no one wants to admit that they were a part of the screaming, panic driven mob that descended on my station. Folks say they 'drove by and saw it.' They comment about the mayhem, but, no, they didn't 'need' gas that night. Uh huh...sure.
Panic is a most interesting phenomenon. All it took was someone telling someone else that their sister's girlfriend's mother-in-law saw gas for some exorbitant price and people go nuts! They seem to cease having rational thoughts. They revert to two-year old screaming and pushing. In short...they panic.
These are everyday customers in tiny town America. Not people trying to evacuate from a hurricane. Just everyday people. And friday night they showed a side of themselves that, I expect, come Saturday morning, were a bit embarrassed about. Least I hope they were! |
September 10, 2008 at 7:26pm September 10, 2008 at 7:26pm
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9-11
A day and a series of events that is forever burned into my memory and into the collective consciousness of millions of people worldwide.
It seems forever ago now...seven years....and then again, it seems like yesterday. I grew up in the shadows of the World Trade Center. I ate at the restaurant at the Top of The World. When I think of NYC, I see the skyline in my mind and today it still includes the towers. Seeing the NYC skyline today, it seems empty. And, to this day...it sounds loud...echoing sounds overlapping and in the middle of those mind images is one of a five year old girl with long pigtails flying wearing a pink coat. A photograph of my daughter spinning around on the street, looking up and up and up at the towers that she once said seemed to go all the way to heaven.
Where were you when the world stopped turning...that September day?
I was in Maine, watching it all play out on television. I remember thinking that I was glad I was in Maine. I felt safe. Until I realized that the terrorists had stayed in a hotel the night before that was less than ten miles from my house....until I realized that the photo of one of the terrorists responsible was someone I'd seen. I recognized the photo because he'd been a cabdriver on the Alewife run outside of Boston, and I'd been in his cab many times. I'd sat in the backseat of his cab looking at his picture. There was no doubt in my mind and I picked up the phone and called the police.
I remember my mother calling from Illinois, frantic because she couldn't reach my brother and she didn't want him to go to work that day at the the Prudential Building in Boston where he worked at the Top of the Hub restaurant on the top floors. He couldn't have though, as by then, they had closed Boston down.
I remember reaching him and waking him up. I told him to turn on the TV. He asked me what channel and I told him it didn't matter. On the phone together, we watched as the first tower fell.
I remember how quiet the skies were. And I remember how terrified I was the first time I heard a plane after that. We were only a few miles from Kennibunk, Maine and fighter jets were in the skies above it.
I worked for an advertising agency. One of our accounts was Cantor Fitzgerald. I had a deadline of September 11th for rewritten copy for a new brochure we'd been working on for them. I'd emailed it the night before.
Where were you when the world stopped turning...that September day?
I will never forget.
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. But I also am at the point where I don't know how to feel or act. I hope you are doing well, and I also hope to see you around the community soon.
Remember, 60 is the new 40. I consider age to be really reverse logarithmic. 
I am beyond excited for you and can't wait to get my hands on a copy for niece and nephews .... 
umm .. okay ... and ...errr ... for myself because I'm just a big kid at heart. 
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