Tuesday, June 26, 2007

In memorium - Martha Smith

I just received word that a dear coworker, Martha Smith, has passed on tonight. She was a spirited lady who I was lucky enough to spend time with, to enjoy her ironic humor, and to learn from her. She even indirectly helped me with my stories by telling me about her experiences riding the trains. She was a fellow Texan and someone who you walked away glad you had spoken to them.
I know she was suffering before she died, and I am glad that she is no longer in pain, but all the same there is a hole in my consciousness that will never be filled up with her jokes or stories again.
I miss her very deeply. She was a part of home here in California.

Memoria in aeterna, Memento mori, Memento vivere.

In requiem.

Monday, June 11, 2007


It's been quite a crazy month, with my almost attendance of my father's wedding and a computer refresh for the school I work for. I'm tired and sore and miss summer vacation more than ever.
I will be moving in a month, keeping my record of the past seven years of never living in an apartment more than a year. It's hard and I hate it, but I never seem to be able to put down any real roots. Money is always an issue these days, hence the move. I know things could be a lot worse, but I still wish for a little less stress.
Nothing much to say. I've been too busy to write stories lately, so I'm out of practice. I don't know if Nightshade will ever get done - I'm not the same person I was when I started writing her story and it's hard for me to continue it.
Time is my generation's crisis. People can point to record wealth and standards of living, but what about having free time for yourself? Less and less of it, even for someone like me who is unmarried and has no children. Perhaps especially for someone like me...there are a lot of subsidies and tax breaks for children. It begins to look economically sound to have a dependent when you do your taxes yourself and see all the things you're missing out on.
Alas, I digress...Go out into the world and do your own thing, my imaginary audience, but ponder to yourself - are T. S. Eliot's words really true? Will there be time for all the works and days of hand? If there isn't, you're in trouble.