Wednesday, July 31, 2002

Aiyigght, y'all, just booked my first big-time country music photo shoot today. I have to do 13 in the next two months, and praying will not make total idiot of self.

Now that is scary. I have never listened to country music.

At least this first dude is good looking and not a toothpick-chewing redneck. No cowboy hat.

Well, I am an art director in Nashville, after all. It's high time. If I can run full-day shoot for a five-person band on Hollywood Boulevard without a permit, I can do this.

But the payoff is, after the Hollywood Boulevard shoot we got Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles.

You must never, ever, make a trip to L.A. without going to Roscoe's. Ever.

Tea, anyone?
Today I went out for dinner with friends and realized that most of my social circle is M or MWK. So talk was of husbands and kids and God forbid, many other things i don't want to think about as a single woman trying to hold on to shred of celibacy at 32 years of age.

I love my friends but I left really, really depressed.

My cats are chasing one another around the apartment and every now and then stop to bang into something and chew on each others' throats. This is a sign of affection. Another sign is not quite as easily repeatable. Let's just say that Grady is a bit cleaner these days than in pre-Fiona times.

I have to go to a neurologist this week. Every time I bend my head my legs get tingly. I hate to say this, but it's the same feeling as when I have my mobile set to vibrate. Don't let your imagination go too far with that - I don't like the feeling at all. Also am nauseated and v tired. Dr. says it's probably a pinched nerve in C1 territory.

Bleh. I'm just a bright ray of sunshine.

Wednesday, July 24, 2002

Friday, July 19, 2002

Well, am back finally from travels to Florida (home) and New York (work). NYC was amazing; Ground Zero is overwhelming; the show of support and memorabilia left on the fences of St. Paul's Chapel across from the site show just how many people have thought, prayed, and cried for everyone affected by 9/11. Personally, I keep thinking of all the people who were just down on the concourse getting coffee when the planes hit; the Cantor Fitzgerald employees who were getting coffee, most specifically. Had they not been getting their coffee they would have died.

If I were one of these people I would not be able to figure out the 'why' - but every time from there on that I got a cup of coffee I would think of my colleagues who perished.

The will of God is a mysterious thing. On one hand, it doesn't matter how you die - you're still dead. On the other, the manner of death greatly affects those who survive you.

I kept looking at the skyline and imagining those two impossibly tall buildings looking up at me. I got lost often when climbing out of the subway tunnels because I couldn't find 'south' without them. And when a plane flew over Manhattan I imagined the sight and sound of ten people bent on murdering thousands of others, imagined the shock and disbelief at the knowledge that any human would entreat himself to do such a thing willingly, and I remembered that there is in fact evil in the world.

But so many people lived; so many survived. There is also so much of God's grace in this world.