A stolen post and a standing ovation.

I fancy myself a writer, but no one would ever consider giving me a job as one cause my schooling wouldn't allow for it, and my grammer must be atrocious. But I love it. And sometimes when I read something someone else wrote that I love I want to talk about it. Typically it is a book, or sometimes an article, but this time it is a blog. Reading it made me want to gather together my writer friends and publish a compilation of all our stories. Eventually we would publish one every year, and the stories would get better and better and it wouldn't be for fame or money, but to share the talent I am surrounded by.

So today I read a post by a friend and I want to share it. It isn't long. It won't take you forever. It's an amazing display of storytelling and in the end it's for a good cause. You can find the author's blog here.

His story in its entirety:

The People I See Around
I'm an impulse person and an impulse buyer. No, I've begun poorly. I can't start with me; this story is not about me.

Chad greeted me when the doors slid open, but I couldn't understood what he said, so I asked him to repeat himself. Well, what I really said was "Whuh?" The graveyard shift must be an endless mind-melt of half-formed conversations. I know I'd tire of it. I'm sure he already has. It's 12:07 in the morning, do you know where your diction is?

His name was Chad, but I only sidelong-learned it at 12:23 after our conversation at the checkout stand went off-script. Protected both by an ego-barrier of self-satisfaction at a celebratory day and an eagerness to be a clever little "personality," a bright spot in a dull night, I asked him if he judged the people who wouldn't cough up a buck for the Breast Cancer Society. I'd already refused, swiped and punched in my secret code. My vitamins, band-aids and greedily grabbed gum are bagged and waiting.

He replied that he didn't judge, but was disappointed. His mom was re-diagnosed two weeks ago.

Man, I feel like a jerk.

It's a deadly flaw in his family genetics, he tells me, but he doesn't say it like that. The word "pancreatic" was never on any vocabulary list at his school, so he curls his fingers as if around a giant tube of disease and draws in across his abdomen. "She had it here, but now it's up here" and his hand at his chest, over his heart. A false salute to an iffy future.

Man, I feel like a jerk.


The annual Race for the Cure is tomorrow - no, today. I know this because a friend was both earnestly and ironically wearing a pink bandana around all day. So I ask him if he's going, telling him I'll be downtown for it. That's a lie. I had no intention of going before I spoke those words, and probably can't fit it in to my hectic, fantastic "I love what I do" schedule. He, at least, is honest. He'll be sleeping because another all night shift begins at 8.

I should have left already, been out the doors and back home to spend another hour clicking through my Tivo playlist while pretending to write. But I'm in deep now as he pulls back his sleeve, revealing in the florescent overhead light a yellowed bump with a rosacead center. It's big, not enormous, but of a size that you know should have been checked out. A soddened tea bag squeezed of its last herb-juice.

"We all get them," he says. "And around thirty they turn to cancer. But I'd rather not know." If you have tough life, it's gonna show, so I'm struggling to pin down his age. His teeth, his face, the slump in his shoulders all say that he's hit that mark, or will soon. So again-

Man, I feel like a jerk.

I want to feel like a samaritan.

"Chad," I begin. I know his name now and I've committed to eye-contact. "You need to have that looked at. It's always better to have the facts so you can make a decision." Keystroke italicized - always.facts.decision. It's my presentational voice, my jedi-mind-tricks inflection. I don't think it's going to work, and I need it to work. Chad needs it to work. But this isn't a galaxy far, far away, so of course it doesn't, and he's already exited the conversation.

"When they find the cure..." he says, handing me my purchases and back in the proper posturing of employee-to-patron relations. "The cure for cancer, I'll get it checked."

That's a lie. We're both liars and one of us might die from it. And it's 2:33 now and I haven't showered and I didn't go back, dig down and give him the dollar or point him toward a free clinic. I left. I'm home. He's still working. And I'm reduced to melodramatic melancholy.

Tomorrow's another big day in my busy, busy, busy life. I'm doing things I believe are important, but now seem much less urgent than they did at two and a half hours ago.

NEXT PARAGRAPH HAS BEEN DELETED. THIS IS INCOMPLETE, BUT TO WRITE MORE SIMPLY FEEDS MY VANITY.

Here's the important part - If you were intrigued or bothered or whatever, click here to donate online to the American Cancer Society in whatever capacity you wish. I gave a few bucks, which I should have done earlier. I hope you can too.

For people just "reconnecting" with me via Facebook

Here are the answers to all the questions you're going to ask me. You're welcome...now all you have to do is go check out my photos and we'll be all set for another 5 to 10 years.

1. Yes
2. No
3. Yes
4. Good
5. No
6. Everything

And for those of you who need it, the questions

1. Do you like Oregon
2. Do you guys have kids
3. Do you like your job
4. How's Andy
5. Are you planning on moving back to California
6. What's new

*thanks Sarah, this was a brilliant idea.

Being mean to people you like.

Sarah tagged me for a cruel, cruel meme.

Take a picture of yourself RIGHT NOW...no cheating, no makeup, no hair fixin, no extra primping....just as you are.

I saw the same meme posted on Marianne's blog a bit ago and she didn't tag anyone, she just said, do it if you want, or something like that. And I was all, ha, I'm off the hook. Then Sarah got me. Dang.

Here ya go.



Don't I look thrilled?

Now for the best part. I tag

Jen
Maricel
Lisa
Flo

The two things that made Sunday memorable part 2

The second was a tragedy and causes me much sadness.

It went like this. Sunday was the day Andy first saw me since Friday morning. When we were alone in a building together he said he had to tell me something, and then followed it with, "oh god, I don't know how to tell you this. Come and sit down."

I didn't want to sit down. I knew it was something bad. I told him to tell me. He lead me to a couch and sat down on the coffee table across from me. I saw it in his eyes.

It's KiKi?
Yes.
No, oh no. She's hurt?
Yes, and...
No. She's not...
I'm so sorry baby, she's gone.

I miss her. It hurts.

A man found her across the street. He knocked on doors in the neighborhood until he knocked on our door. Andy said she looked like she was sleeping, she was still a little bit warm as he carried her back home. That night they buried her in the back yard.

I keep waiting for her to come home. To scratch at the back door. To jump on the bed with me. To purr by my head. To curl up between us. To come home.

She was my baby. She was my friend. She was my Kitty Pryde. My KiKi. My Chooch.
I miss her.

The two things that made Sunday memorable part 1

The first was the heroics.

It went like this. Four friends met up in Portland. Two were already there, working. Two arrived earlier in the day and had plans to play a show later the same night. One of the friends from each of these groups were a husband and wife.

The four friends spent the afternoon laying on the grass by the waterfront, soaking in the glorious sun rays. This being one of the first weekends of the year when the sun shone and warmed there arms, it wasn't just the four friends by the water front...the city was strewn with people...one of those people decided to spend the afternoon at the same waterfront, just feet away from the four friends, and get real high.

After the guy got real high and yelled and jumped and paced around the grass for a good twenty minutes, he kicked off his shoes, leaving his socks in place, pulled off his shirt and walked toward the street. When the guy reached the curb his pace didn't wain. It didn't stutter. The guy walked into the middle of the street. The street, Naito Parkway was empty at the time. The light was red to oncoming traffic. But as the guy sat down, legs stretched toward the east, the light changed to green. As the drivers released their feet from their brakes, the guy laid down.

The four friends had been watching the guy for some time and when he headed toward the street they all watched with growing intensity, when he sat down, they timidly moved toward him. And when the guy laid down, one of them, the husband sprinted toward the curb and landed in the street, standing guard over the guy and directing traffic away from his head. Now what you can't know but what makes the story even more frightening is where the guy laid down. Besides being in the middle of the street, his legs were in a left turn lane, which put his torso and head in the left most lane of traffic. What caused the fright was that the concrete divider that separated the north traffic from the south traffic hindered the sight of the southbound drivers from seeing the guy's body until they were almost upon it. Thus the husband standing in the middle of the street was confusing to some drivers and caused them to glare or question his position. That is, until their view wasn't obstructed and they saw the half naked man with socks sprawled out spread eagle on the ground.

The wife and the friend who was in town for work both called the Police and in record time three cruisers were on the scene. The officers swiftly donned latex gloves, hoisted the guy to his feet, searched his pockets, collected his things strewn about the grass, and kindly removed him from the scene.

The Hero went on that night to sit and enjoy Stumptown coffee with the wife and friend in town to play a show, then perform an off the rack show at Dixie Tavern. The Hero, the Scientist and the wife saw old friends and happily raised a glass to the adventures of the day.

Fug Madness Round One Re-cap

I seem to agree with all of humanity. The results are in for round one over on the fug site.



So, to re-cap my Round One first picks are:

Cher Bracket
(1) Aubrey O'Day
(8) Phoebe Price
(12)Lisa Rinna
(4) Sarah Jessica Parker

Bjork Bracket
(6) Paula Abdul
(14)Katie "Jordan" Price
(7) Mary-Kate Olsen
(2) Lady Gaga

Charo Bracket
(1) SWINTON
(9) Lily Allen
(5) Beyonce
(4) Scarlett Johansson

Madonna Bracket
(11)Janet Jackson
(3) Bai Ling
(7) Christina Aguilera
(2) Gwyneth Paltrow

Return for round one's continuation and see who ends up rounding out the top 32. Until then, vote, google people, and enjoy the endorphins rushing through your body that the laughter brings.

Fug Madness Round One, Part Four

Round One Madonna Bracket

(6) DEBRA MESSING vs. (11) JANET JACKSON

My Pick: Janet Jackson
My Reason: I couldn't argue with this:

poll by twiigs.com

(3) BAI LING vs. (14) RUMER WILLIS

You'll recognize the link for Rumor from Ashton's fug moment, but this time look at her, not him. I think it's worse this way. Buut, she's young and cute and can pull off many of the looks. As long as nothing's falling down, she's survived moving on another round in my book.

My Pick: Bai Ling
My Reason: I can't imagine there was ever a doubt, Bai Ling is a fashion fan beyond any I've ever seen, cause she wears crazy and she loves every minute of it, with a glove.

poll by twiigs.com

(7) CHRISTINA AGUILERA vs. (10) JESSICA BIEL

My Pick: Christina Aguilera
My Reason: I feel like Christina Aguilera used to have many more moments of fug in years past, and though Jessica Biel didn't attempt to wow us this year, she didn't exactly walk into crazy town and set up a crazy shop that sold crazy while dressing up in craziness (which is how you're gunna win this thing). At least she was a bit glamorous amidst the bizarre. And Christina did this:



Which while I admire that she isn't half naked or showing of bits we don't need to get so personal with, it's still over the top from head to toe or neck to toe and therefore a winner.

poll by twiigs.com

2) GWYNETH PALTROW vs. (15) KRISTEN STEWART

My Pick: Gwyneth Paltrow
My Reason: Kristen Stewart may look sad, or mad, or whatever in all her photos, but frankly, she's pretty much adorable and has a good style sense most of the time, but I love Gwyneth, really and at first I couldn't understand why she was in this little game, so I figured I'd vote for Stewart. But glancing through Gwyneth's fug file I realized, something must be going on in fashion in Europe that I'm not privy to, cause there's a whole lot of not a lot of fabric going on over there.

poll by twiigs.com

We're on the road up to Portland tomorrow for Science recording excitement. That means I'll be blogging from the road and taking the weekend by storm, including a trip to Ikea and hopefully, new shoes and new spring clothes.

Happy Spring!