Wednesday, May 24, 2006

The Library

I get to go to the library for lunch breaks at work. I sit among the students and the homeless tirelessly locked into their daily routines, as I attend to mine -- a BLT with 2 carrot sticks, sometimes a bag of Fritos (TM). The water feature glints in the sunlight pouring from the sky above within the center of this mecca of knowledge and of my adventure.

Sometimes I'm a detective -- I drift back to being one of Nancy Drew's crew, silently stalking the criminal, in the most dangerous places, while retaining that 1960s ladylike behavior, so that Ned will always know he's still the man, and that she's the woman, though only 18 and for sure accomplishing more than my modest flight from Chicago to Los Angeles, 3000 miles away from everything in my own Known world. Sometimes I'm frittering away the day, studying about my latest hobby, whether it be gardening or cat care or some other subject. Occasionally I am romantically swept away by Prince Charmings that don't exist, or hunting strange beasts on islands that the TV series "Lost" cannot even describe. Once in awhile, I challenge myself to decoding the antics of Hemingway or Faulkner, living a rich and full life in the South, charasmatically wearing the Scarlett O'Hara dress, and telling Rhett "I love you." (Ok, so sometimes it's a romantic drama, and not just one of those cheap Harlequin matters, but you get the point).

It has been often that I have begun retreating from the online world, and to some extent the outside offline world, into this private haven that someone else wrote. But what I constantly forget is that I have a story to write, and if I don't get to it, it'll die in my head, forever mummified in my remains until ashes become ashes and dust becomes dust.

So I abandon my own blog, my own stories, in favor of artificial snapshots from someone else's unfathomable mind. And I derrive a fantasy of sorts, that I, could never be as good as them. Which is preposterous, not because I am a genius, though that certainly could be the case, however, because I merely cannot know until I have tried. So I have whittled down a few phrases and I know this isn't my best work, but it is indeed work, and that is a start. As I wrote that last sentence I heard a little "british" accent come through. And that, my friends, is what every writer misses, whether he/she knows it; that voice is in there, aching to come alive and to breathe life into these things we call words/letters/symbols. We may not be named William Shakespeare, but I think the JadedTLC, the GrumbleFish, the Kid, the Leese (who goes by a more regular name I might add), and the Jen and Jimmy Jazz; we have our voices, and with this chorus of blah plus genius, there is some kind of music out there to be written.

Sunday, May 07, 2006


I know that my blogs have become slightly obsessive accolades to my furbabies, but they have become a big part of my life. I started volunteering for the Southern California Siamese Rescue about a week ago, and my life has changed for the better. Today, I got to play with four very adorable furballs no heavier than my cell phone.

It's hard to believe my growing beasts were once that size.

I'd have to say that volunteering has left me with a better life view, even with such an idiot in the White House. It kinda makes me feel as if I can change the world, even if just a little. Sure there is so much mess, but for once I'm not uselessly complaining about politics that I no longer can fix, at least I can try at the next election.

Which makes me wonder which Democrat I want to run against Arnold. We have to get that numbskull out.

I'm still struggling to understand why gas prices get to rise to 3.50 and the oil companies are enjoying their highest profits ever. Is there something wrong with a picture where someone is making all the money off of stuff everyone has to have? (Come on, Los Angeles has no public transit system.) This sounds alot like dictatorship. How dare Bushy call Saddam evil until he's looked at himself in the mirror.

Anyway, spring is slowly sifting its way into the air. And I guess I've started to do a lot more outdoor stuff, less indoor games. The internet is losing it's grasp on the features that the sunny spring days allure.