terrshee's Diaryland Diary

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Sand

My editorial ego is getting the stuffing kicked out of it. About two years ago (maybe more now) I transformed some class notes into an article about how medieval legal documents are structured to ensure their authenticity. Kinda cool to a geek like me.

Anyway, finally an editor has been able to get the local SCA arts newsletter in order, and the article has been dusted off. She's quite competent and has been on my case (nicely) about using copyrighted photos and properly labeling and citing stuff. The annoying part is that I should know all this and have taken care of it when I first wrote the article. But it is too easy just to slap something together. I'll have to be more careful in the future.

Here at the press room someone just put up a sign over the White House press announcements drop off bin that says:

President Bush Announces Big Deal Plan; Says, 'Big deal, I'm rich.'

If I were a proper Buddhist I would probably not be quite so distressed about the reality of impermance that is being thrust on my psyche. But I am. the national catastrophe is being mirrored in a number of ways in my private existence. I'm having a terrible time reconciling what is important with what is lasting.

My house was once broken into and a bunch of stuff taken. Fortunately most of it was replacable and none if it did I actually miss. But I remember how shaken I was, how much trust I had lost in my sense of safety. I'm feeling a lot like that now. I can't get past the notion that nothing really matters. Heirlooms break, family passes away, friendships become unrecognizable. On which set of sands do I build the house of my life?

10:12 a.m. - 2005-09-07
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