The girl and the dog began walking into the grey light of the night being born, up from the rushing waters of Twin Falls. The sounds of the water became blended
with the life of the night and trees around them, the humming/vibrating/cricketing. Time slipped sideways through the tufted pink sky, the sun sinking low as twilight sneaked in. Now only the moon lit the way, dappled on the muddy path of stones that stuck out like garden gnomes and roots that lay waiting like snakes in silence. She looked straight ahead, her feet feeling the way while the dog trotted on, an occasional shadow ahead with a jingling collar. The water to her right, she heard voices behind and turned to look. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but she didn't hear them now. The trees began to blend into black, moonlight crisscrossing her trail through the leaves.
Jingle jingle. Cricket cricket. Whisper whisper.
Her breath stuck slightly in her mouth and she focused on not tripping, not falling, not stopping. Wasn't really positive she was going in the right direction anymore. The locusts buzzed melodically and the sky took on a shade of night the way a mournful blues note grows. Here and there a shadow flickered ahead. Small boulders had to be scampered over in the now-dark. The dog collar jingled. She had to pee.
She remembered how when she was young the shadows on her walls at night activated her imagination to sometimes ridiculous heights. Like in Annie Dillard's short story, the headlights of a passing car during black sleepless nights sent a shrieking flying shadow across the room, only to curl up and whither at the corner. Lights and shadow. She kept walking, remembering being young and afraid of the dark. Of the unseen. Of what's ahead.
Car wrecks have a distinct smell, one that lingers on you for several hours after you blow out a tire at 80 mph, spin around and smash into a wall twice. I sat on the shoulder of northbound 35 in traffic around 6pm today by Kyle and cried for a minute. A few seconds before I had issued a blood-curdling scream that rivaled Anne Darrow's in King Kong as I tried to control my severely swerving car. A rear tire blew out and I saw two hubcabs rolling comicly in front of me as the soda between my legs exploded all over me. A 180 busted the front right end until another 180 found me resting safely on the shoulder, out of traffic. I don't even know if someone was behind me.
Since I had been in San Antonio, I had my digital camera with me, thinking I would go take pics at the missions or something after work. Ironic.
One second you're enjoying your Diet Dr. Pepper, the next you're in a fucking movie scene. I thought after seeing Deathproof I'd like to be a stuntwoman. Now I'm not so keen about driving at all. Props to the Kyle PD who arrived almost immediately. I wish I had taken advantage of a good whiff of O2 before the ambulance took off. Progressive Insurance lady, I don't appreciate being asked if I damaged the wall. Thanks to the wrecker yard lady for staying with me til Dana got there. There are nice people everywhere.
My parents pray for me everyday, and I'm convinced this is why I didn't get hurt or hurt anyone else. My back feels kinda wonky, but I'm feeling pretty calm at the moment, enjoying a glass of wine and a smoke. Trying not to play the what-if game. I'm a lucky girl. And I didn't like that car anyway.
I love you all very much. Some more than others. You know who you are. :)
This weekend I lost: my car key I believe Jerry left it on the table, nevertheless it is no longer there. No worries, I found the spare. But Adam had to take me to the airport, and Jerry had to stress all weekend.
This weekend I found: my ability to breathe. We took a good long hike in the Palo Duro Canyon, Mark and I. The wildflowers were like a carpet. I haven't felt that calm in a long time. Also found an unopened bottle of water which came in handy during the last mile.
This weekend I lost: my job. Sadly my run at the Alamo is over, as there was some sort of deal with my request off. It sucks, and I'll miss it a little (and I'm sorry to anyone I might have screwed over by being out of town this weekend, I really am. It wasn't my fault, honest). It's cool, I was thinking about quitting anyway.
This weekend I found: an old friend in the produce aisle. I ran in my favorite Danager (Regs) at HEB. I am kinda sad about losing my job (although I don't really need it) because it's only the second time I've ever been fired, and I've had a faffilion different jobs, from graveyard shift at a refrigerator factory to nuclear power plant janitor to teacher to you name it. Seeing Dan made me feel better.
This weekend I lost: my new cell phone battery. Either that or it didn't come with one. I found myself in the airport this morning with two cell phones, one with a dead battery, one with no battery. I bought a ten dollar emergency phone charger. It didn't fit my phone. I returned said charger. I also had a car charger in my purse, which was no help at all.
This weekend I found: a bit of faith in humanity. Thanks to the kindness of strangers with Nokia phones with batteries, Samgsung chargers, and laptops, I was able to contact Dana to get me from the airport, despite my dead phones.
Hey kids. I'm still in Chicago, but don't feel like talking about it. The Shining's on Sci-Fi and I have cool pictures from my night out...
On an unrelated note, I've noticed that in addition to becoming more claustrophic the older I get, the more conspiracy theories I develop. For your perusal: 1. Birth control is supplied by the government and designed to keep womankind down. Yeah we don't get preggers, but we also get crazy-hormonal, thereby unable to accomplish the shit we really need to address to stand on an equal footing.
2. America has screwy priorities because we don't have royalty but instead celebrity. Unlike royalty, celebrities don't have any obligation to act in a noble or decent way, nor to give/plan/help anything or anyone. They just make excessive amounts of money and act like assholes, because all we care about is what they look like on the red carpet or who they're dating.
3. The public school system (by and large) doesn't give much of a shit about minority education--we only care when we need a systematic form of training minorities like for the army or the Industrial Revolution. Public school culture is white middle class culture--other forms of literacy or knowledge aren't accepted. That's really too bad, as we could learn a lot from other people.
4. There's no such thing as "the one." It's statistically impossible given the number of people on this planet, a dumb white-dress fantasy perpetuated by romantic comedies. There is, though, love. Not to be mushy, but I think it is the driving force behind everything truly good, and occasionally for some unlucky people, bad. See #8.
5. The moon landing happened. It did. Get over it. And there are UFO's. There might not be aliens (or ghosts for that matter) but to assume we're alone in the universe is naive. To assume ANYTHING is naive.
6. Recidivism rates for educated (while incarcerated) prisoners vs. non-educated is much, much lower, but our current attitude towards prison reforms is one of retribution and punishment. Which I agree with--do the crime, do the time. But why not educate people while they're locked up and give them some skills for when they get out? Not just vocational but personal too. It would take time, money, organization, and a lot of research and devotion, but would pay off big time--we spend a shitton of money on incarcerating and releasing people, many of whom end up right back in the slammer cause they can't cope when they get out.
7. Karma is real. It makes sense, and it happens. Organized religion on the other hand have served as a vehicle for some of the worst crimes on humanity, primarily at the hands of rich white men. There is a God, and He is not pleased with that shit.
8. This isn't really a conspiracy theory: there are precious few things that really matter in life. Money, status, looks, etc are not among them. And to be honest, no one ever guaranteed you'd be happy--you gotta make your own happy. You were never promised a rose garden. As time itself is a waste of time, only dumb people waste it on the unimportant shit, and the even dumber people don't even know what the unimportant shit is.
Greetings from the Windy City. I stepped off the plane Thursday with a sense of purpose, of gladness. The air felt and smelt crisp, absent of Texan humidity. 8 days of training or no 8 days of training, I was happy to get the fuck out of Dodge for a while. I haven't been here for over 10 years, and I wanna to go walk down the streets, look at the buildings, sit by the lake. Be alone.
The first night was a comedy of errors. The shuttle driver who took us from Midway to O'Hare (not far distance-wise but worlds apart) was a crusty old bastard who didn't say a word. Neither did anyone in the van. He rode the edge of the lane like a drunk prom queen, and I tried to ignore the flagrant finger I was receiving on the passenger's side. I was rapt with wonder over being in a new old city, loving the neighborhoods, the houses, both ghetto and fabulous, the billboards, the graffiti, the promise, the people. I've always been attuned to cities' personalities. Suddenly I burst out with "BROOKFIELD ZOO!" like some sort of Tourrette's victim. I had seen a sign and immediately thought of elephants. Still no one spoke.
Within walking distance from the Extended Stay Deluxe on Touhy Street was a Chili's, an Office Max, a Krispy Kreme, a Target, and some other crap. I walked a half mile to buy a bottle of wine only to find that Percy, the clueless front desk dick with whom I would have many frustrated conversations that ended with me saying "fantastic" and walking away, had no wine opener and no idea where they went. I would have walked back to the store to get one too, if they weren't closed. More pressing, he had no idea how to get my shit online, and there's no way I can go a week without internet. Despite his name Percy is neither gay nor black (maybe gay but definitely not black), and he is most certainly not helpful. After 20 minutes of tech support guidance from a patient Paki (and a patient Wentlandt), I got it together. Meanwhile, I learned I am not missing much with no cable tv. I did learn that Posh Spice (Posh, right? the one married to Beckham?) is starting a reality show, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say 8 months til they're divorced. Any takers? I'm also pleased that Day After Tomorrow was on yesterday and Deep Impact is on tomorrow--I dig disaster flicks. Oh, and it's nice to not have Texas brought into commercials, such as "that's what I like about Texas," or "it's bigger in Texas and better in a Dodge." Other states don't have this weird obsession with their name that they have to bring it into their television programming.
Morning came too damn soon.
Training was pretty boring, I won't get into it. I've met some cool people, most of them fairly young and in grad school. I thought it was funny that the people in my group thought I was really intellectual and blah blah after our week of phone conferences. I was usually stoned. After 8 hours of that nonsense, some of us hoofed it to the Chili's to get some margarita in us, and it became clear that a few people were pretty pumped to get away from their kids and spouses. Not in a sleazy kinda way, but just excited to make a liquor store trip and trying to get everyone to hang out in random rooms together and drink. I did that in college, so after Chili's and another trip to Target to buy a swimsuit (a horrible experience but necessary as my sister and her kids are coming tomorrow and staying a night at another hotel with a pool) I retreated to my room. That pretty much brings us up to now.
more pics, the last of a nearby bank whose name baffles me:
Wouldn't that be the 15th bank? Ma n' Pa are swinging through on Sunday, David on Monday. I was hoping to get my sister by herself so we could go cut a rug, but I love her and her husband and kids and can't wait to see them too, even if it means stuffing my out-of-control boobs into a Target swimsuit and swimming in a gross hotel pool.
UFOs over O'Hare, y'all.
Note the Texas dude. Arizona or something.
So, Blogg, if you want any Chicago souvenirs, let me know. Be home in a week!
