So, yeah. This is me. Or rather, some of me, at my raving, self-contemplative best. Or maybe worst. I don’t consider myself a writer; my muse strikes sporadically and none-too-often, leaving me with inadequate words to .. yeah. So all of this is pretty old. Some of it I might eventually try to clean up some and turn into something worthwhile. But I might not. *shrug*
Most of this is unedited for the most part, except to remove the names of the innocent and not-so-innocent or to alter details so as not to incriminate anyone unduly. Eventually there might be more like this, but for now, this is it.
Ambrosia Ambrosia was written in the summer of 2000. It was a reaction to the contradiction between where I was at that point in my life and where several of my friends were. For many years, I thought I’d lied when I wrote this one, even though I didn’t know it then; it turns out I was mistaken.
Rain While in Seattle, I volunteered with the Seattle Police Department Domestic Violence Victim Support Team. One of the things I found most useful in debriefing after long shifts was simply sitting at the keyboard and letting my mind move my fingers independent of my consciousness. This piece was written on one of those nights.
4. Again, this was written after a VST shift. This case was.. one of the more personally challenging for me, largely due to the age of the victim.
Turning Points Turning Points is pr’bly the oldest of any of my writing that I actually have. It was written in 1996, several days after the realization that the friendship I shared with another had deteriorated beyond repair. I wish, a dozen or more years later I could say I was wrong, but we never managed to restore our friendship to the level it once enjoyed. This one’s a bit melodramatic, but then, so am I at times, so it fits. *smile*
Guardian Vengeance, I’ve been told, is best served cold. I think that no matter how it’s served, it will always turn my stomach. I debated about throwing this one up here; it was written at a time when I meant ever word of it, which I have never been convinced the recipient understood at the time. In retrospect, the loss of this friendship was much more damaging than the one after which I wrote Turning Points, and, like that one, has not been recovered fully. But unlike Turning Points, this one is recoverable and I now keep in more or less regular, though voyeuristic, touch with the recipient. And I really did lie in this one, though I wish I sometimes wish I could say I hadn’t.
I am I can’t honestly remember when I wrote I am, though I suspect it was written sometime in the fall of 1999. I’d just started my training with the VST and this, along with the next several, was written after I’d gone to a Take Back the Night rally on Seattle’s Capital Hill. Of course, that was also the time of my life when a three year relationship was coming to an end, at least romantically, so it could be about that, too. *shrug*
Sentry This one was, obviously, written after I’d started my VST training, but I think before I had gone out on a shift yet. It’s beautifully naive.
If only.. One of these days I’ll pr’bly go back to this one and brush it up a bit. One of my continual frustrations is how many people trade fun for knowledge. This is loosely based on that idea. It’s also got some nasty language in it, so in an attempt to protect the more innocent, this page is password protected. Leave a comment for the password if you want it.
Just Words This one makes me alternately laugh and delve into the depths of my mind digging up just what it is about it that seems so.. appropriate. It is, after all, just words..
Becoming The time I spent doing domestic violence crisis intervention in Seattle a few years back was when I first realized that there are times when I just.. have to write. This one was written more recently, while in graduate school in Social Service Administration in Chicago, after I wrote a paper for a class on the work I had done then.
Chicago Cabs One of my last nights in Chicago, before moving to Madison, I found myself at a graduation party for me and my classmates. While I connected with and truly liked a number of them, as a whole, they were hard for me to relate to.