Categories
Writing

The Princess

There once was a fairy tale princess who lived in a land of sunshine and Starbuck lattes. Of course she wasn’t part of a fairy tale, and she wasn’t really a princess, but starting a tale with “there once was a fairy tale princess” sounds better than “there once was this lady of no particular note other than to her close friends”.

(Truth in advertising doesn’t apply to storytelling.)

Anyway, back to the story.

The princess was confident and fairly strong except for one secret shame, one overriding fear — this princess was terrified of coaches.

You see when the Princess was very young, she was in many coach accidents and that left her nervous at the sound of stamping hooves and clattering wheels. Normally she could function within a society filled with coaches, but she couldn’t drive her own coach; the horses could sense her fear and refused to yield to her touch.

In time the young Princess fell in love with an evil Wizard who saw in the Princess a vulnerability he could exploit. Whenever he became angry, he would take the Princess out into a coach and drive it very fast, tell the Princess that he was going to drive the coach into this tree or off this cliff if the Princess wasn’t very very good.

Once, the Princess became so terrified during one ride that she grabbed the reins from the Wizard and held on to them for all she was worth until the coach stopped, disregarding the beating of the Wizard. When he got out, she kept the coach doors locked as the Wizard kicked and kicked at them until he burned out his anger and they could continue home, safely, one more time.

Another time, the evil Wizard got angry and forced the Princess out of the coach on a deserted country road. Here the Princess stood, on a road with no houses, no street lights, no moon to light her way — alone in the country with no clear idea of where she needed to go, begging the Wizard to return for her; terrified that the Wizard would return for her.

The Princess walked and walked along the road, becoming more and more terrified until she was eventually found by a passing coachman who kindly took her to the constable, who, in turn took her to a doctor because the Princess couldn’t stop shaking and was so frightened she could no longer talk.

In time, the Princess realized the folly of her relationship with the Wizard and banished him from her life. He in turn, left her with one final curse — she would go through life terrified of coaches.

The Princess met other more gentle Wizards who worked with her to overcome her fear of coaches. At some point, the Princess could be in a coach in traffic without closing her eyes at every intersection. There was a real sense of triumph the day the Princess didn’t break out in a cold sweat when she rode in a coach in a strange highway.

Eventually, one day, the Princess felt that she had progressed enough to try taking the reins of the horse into her own hands. At first she was frightened and stiff and very awkward. However, the Princess began to find out that she liked having the reins of the coach in her hand. In fact, she felt empowered by being in control. She was in control!

The day the Princess was passed by the court authority to drive a coach on her own was probably one of the happiest days of her life. The curse of the Evil Wizard was finally almost broken.

Except for one remaining trial. One last dragon that the Princess had to slay.

Freeways. The Princess was terrified of Freeways, especially attempting to drive the Freeways by herself. She would sit at her window and look at the Freeway outside her window and dream of driving on it, but every time she would attempt it she would become afraid and pull back. She knew deep down inside that the curse would never be completely lifted until she faced her final fear, but the battle was so hard.

Finally, at the end of the tale — because all tales do end — the Princess crept out of her castle in the early dawn hours and forced herself on to the Freeway by her home. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she would surely pass out…but she didn’t. She then continued down the road and on to Freeway’s in other strange worlds, each one driven becoming one more swing of the sword at the dragon formed from her fears.

Los Angeles — clang!
San Diego — clang!
Phoenix — clang!

Back country road with a low gas tank and no one in sight, and the memories crowding in, fighting for recognition, screaming in her mind to be let out, until a light appeared and other coaches appeared — clang!

Albuquerque, with the sun in her eyes and the coaches surrounding her like angry gnats, fear so strong her head pounded with the effort, mouth so dry, she was desperate for water but terrified of taking her eyes off the road to grab the water bottle — swing and swing and swing with the sword. Clang! Clang! Clang!

Oklahoma City. Tulsa. St. Louis. The sword made one final swing, the dragon expired, and the curse was broken. The Princess was finally free.

And she lived happily ever after.

The End.

Categories
Weblogging

The comments

My last posting demonstrates that some of the best writing that occurs at this weblog occurs within the comments rather than within the posting, itself.

Still continuing the theme of how much to share online. When does sharing stop and uncontrolled dumping of self begin.

There was a point made, and a good one, that if you can write in a manner that is coherent than both the reader and the writer gain from the experience, regardless of the content of the writing. If your emotions are so strong, the rage so heavy, the fear so overwhelming, the despair so great that you can no longer communicate in any meaningful manner than the sharing becomes confusing to the reader and ultimately a betrayal of self online. The writer regrets the written. If you write something you regret having written than you’ve crossed the line. The content doesn’t matter as much as the end result.

So, how far does one take the coherency? One can write of emotions from an intellectual viewpoint, and the writing can be rich. However, at times the intellectualization of writing flattens the peaks and fills in the troughs of our experiences, our feelings.

The cluetrain folks were mentioned in the comments so let’s consider them for a moment:

I read David Weinberger or Doc Searls and they have a wonderful way with words, but there is an intellectualism at times in their writing that makes me uncomfortable with my own weblog postings. Does this make sense?

However, I read Chris Locke when he is in rare form and I feel that one can pour out your inner self and it becomes art, and it becomes literature, and it becomes something ultimately rewarding to the reader and the writer.

The question continues…

Categories
Travel

Photos of St. Louis Arch

Photos of St. Louis Arch:

Categories
Travel

Trip

Trip was only a few days so decided to squish into a weblog posting. .

I took Interstate 8 from San Diego to Arizona, and stopped at a rest area outside El Centro while still in California. As I got out of the car, I heard this jet sound. Looking up, I saw four jets in close formation directly overhead — the rest area was right next to the base where the Blue Angels practice their show. So I grabbed my water and my crackers and cheese and watched the entire show from the best seats a person could have. Serendipity.

I stayed my first night outside Flagstaff, and the next day went hiking around the Cathedral rocks in the Red Rock country in Sedona. If you’ve ever been in Sedona, you know how incredibly beautiful the countryside is. I took several photos but they don’t even capture the “rightness” of this area. Rust red rocks, dark green scrub, and blue skies, though the sky that day was overcast.

There wasn’t anyone at the park when I got there, which just blew me away. I walked along the stream when I came upon this field of piled rocks. People who visited would take river stones and pile them just as the rock artists in San Francisco. A novel way of marking your visit, without any harm to the area. Eventually the weather and critters will knock the little pyramids down and the stones become fodder for the next artist. Can you see my little pyramid in the photos? Free trip to Arizona for anyone that spots the correct one — one guess to a customer.

On the way back I decided to detour through the Navajo Indian Nation. I thought I could take Highway 160 to 64 and make Santa Fe by evening. What a lousy judge of distance I am.

The Navajo Indian Nation is probably the most inspiring land I’ve seen. It changes constantly from desert to plains to cliffs to hills to rocks to farms. You can’t get bored, but you can get overwhelmed. On thing I had read is that you don’t want to be on the Reservation at night because livestock and wild animals are frequently on the road and it can be very dangerous.

As the afternoon wore on and I saw no end in sight of Arizona, much less getting close to Santa Fe, I started inching my speed up on the car. Well, that was a mistake. The Navajo police are meticulous about the letter of the law. Sure enough, here come the lights. Driver’s license less than 8 months and I get a speeding ticket.

The officer was very nice and asked me the usual, including did I know I was going 71 in a 65 MPH zone. I answered truthfully, that yes, I knew it but I had badly misjudged the length of time to cross the reservation and was concerned about being on the road at night. He checked me out, and maybe because I was honest, and probably because he was a very decent person, he just gave me a warning — saving me I don’t know how much money in insurance rates.

He also told me I would be out of the Res in about an hour, but still in the back country.

At that point I checked the map and decided to cut directly down to the freeway on another road. I started out at dusk and drove for much longer than expected. I’m almost out of gas, it’s dark, the highway isn’t that well traveled and I haven’t seen a sign about what highway I’m on, and when I’ll hit something. Well, something friendly.

I did NOT want to run out of gas in the back country. Sure, I’d be safe enough, though cold. Still — I’m a coward, and I have a real thing about being out in the country all by my lonesome without any preparation, late at night.

Luckily, cars became more frequent, I found a gas station, I got gas, I got on the freeway.

Point to make — having an adventure because you plan it, or deliberately grabbing an opportunity is great; having one happen because you keep making stupid mistakes is a completely different thing.

Next day, I was tired and wanted to just get to my friend’s in St. Louis. I drove through the rest of New Mexico, Texas, most of Oklahoma, and most of Missouri. I drove 18 hours with little break.

Crossing Missouri was a nightmare. It was night, I was exhausted, and there were so many semi-trucks out that I thought I had stumbled on to a trucker’s convention. I spent three solid hours playing dodge car with trucks that could make a smear out of Golden Girl. Worse, I was having real problems seeing at night. In fact, I found that my night vision for driving was extremely poor — is this normal?

By the time I got to St. Louis, I was so tired that I was driving 45 MPH in a 65MPH zone, weaving all over the road. At one point, I was actually confused about the lines on the road and the exit I was to take. Once off the freeway, I had to call my friend on my cell and have him give me step by step instructions to get to his place.

That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done! I will never ever drive that long again, and to that point of exhaustion. I could have killed myself or worse, someone else! And playing games with semi-trucks? Rocks for brains.

All in all, though, I had an enlightening first long distance trip. And I’m already planning my next visit to Arizona — where I will obey the traffic signals to a letter, as well as stay for much longer than a few days.

-earlier-

Still preparing photos and road trip report. One thing about being on modem is you become more aware of download times — and I need to add size information to my photos to make sure my text loads first before the photos are finished. Not using size information with your photos and using tables for layout design (I know, evil Bird), slows any of the content from showing until enough information is generated about the photos to start the table layout.

That and too many posts on the main page is why you see orange for what seems a long time.

(Still, the orange is kind of a warning…ware, here be birds that burn.)

I used a new low-tech version of wireless weblogging the last few days. It’s called “paper” and you use a “pen” to upload the information. Remarkable what people come up with, isn’t it? I found the process to be very satisfying and plan on continuing the use of this new technology.

Tidbits from the Journal:


Do you have an ice scrapper? No, I have patience and no particular place to go. If there’s frost on the windshield in the morning, the car and I’ll just sit in the sun until we’re both ready to go.

There’s something peaceful and seductive about the Arizona desert. The blue of the sky, the rust of the hills, scrub brush and hearty cacti, 18-wheelers air braking in the distance.

Modern day waybread — pre-packaged crackers and cheese.

I’m like Tom Hanks in Castaway, standing at the cross roads wondering which way to take. This way opens up canyons and vistas; that way gets me closer to a working internet connection. Decisions, decisions. Today, the decision is canyons.

-earlier-

“May I see your driver’s license and registration, please.”

I comply.

“Ma’am, are you aware of the speed limit here on the reservation?”

Three days and close to 1800 miles later, I’m in St. Louis — after an 18 hour drive from an hour west of Albuquerque. I spent the first two days wondering Arizona back roads and the Navajo Nation. Good things and bad. And definitely lessons filed under “I’ll never do that again.”

I don’t think a vacation is truly complete if you don’t have at least one incidence of “I’ll never do that again”, do you?

Trip photos, including Cathedral Rocks, getting lost in the desert, and top it off with the Blue Angels.












Categories
Travel

May I see your driver’s license?

“May I see your driver’s license and registration, please.”

I comply.

“Ma’am, are you aware of the speed limit here on the reservation?”

Three days and close to 1800 miles later, I’m in St. Louis — after an 18 hour drive from an hour west of Albuquerque. I spent the first two days wondering Arizona back roads and the Navajo Nation. Good things and bad. And definitely lessons filed under “I’ll never do that again.”

I don’t think a vacation is truly complete if you don’t have at least one incidence of “I’ll never do that again”, do you?

Full trip report — with photos — later. Too big for a posting. Hint: Think Cathedral Rocks, add in getting lost in the desert, mix with seeing who has bigger balls –me or the truckers (figuratively speaking) — and top it off with the Blue Angels.