Magic Man

Photo Credit: AshDesign, Dreamstime

The world from up there is very different.

I took one last look at the high-rise and my former penthouse condo at almost its very top. And then I turned my back on it.

I'd had my finger on the pulse of high-finance. I'd been master of profitable shenanigans that grew more outrageous with each year. Unexpectedly, at the height of my mastery, the financial houses all came crashing down. Many of them were saved, but mine was given the death sentence. We were all forced out onto the street. At least I was able to sell my condo before the bottom fell out of the real estate market.

I moved into a three-story walkup to conserve my cash while I searched for another position. I was high-priced executive talent. It should have been easy. That was four years ago. Contacts, acquaintances, and even those whom I had thought of as friends didn't return my calls; they ignored me just as I had ignored many others when I was master of the ring.

Doors were closed. I was too qualified for most positions, and as the effects of the crash reverberated through the economy, the need for executive suite, financial talent wasted away. Executives at the remaining companies did not want to hire someone who was sure to be their competition for the next higher slot.

After two years, my savings had dwindled significantly. If I'd still had access to insider financial reports, I may have been able to grow it back through the stock market. But I couldn't afford to play the fool's game of investing blind.

I moved in to one of those daily rent hotels and took day labor jobs. Even advancement through those was closed to me. I was a former 'suit' trying to hone in on their territory.

Today I'm homeless; dragging my last, well-worn piece of leather designer luggage, with barely enough in the patched pocket of my moth-eaten cashmere coat for for the one-way ticket out. I've no choice left but to go back to the town I turned my back on twenty-five years ago.

I had conquered this city; enjoyed its pleasures to the utmost in my arrogance and greed. Now the soleless shoe is on the other foot - mine.

One, the Other, & On

Photo Credit: Lynne Williamson, Dreamstime

Vestiges of footsteps. Not always easy to discern.

Mostly ephemeral; sometimes, as in concrete, impossible to remove. A footstep may take one back to what was, on to what will be, or off on a detour to the unexpected; but always to a new version of place.

Some footsteps lead to a solitary journey. Others, to a communal one. A footstep can lead to a higher plane, or to the depths of despair.

A step up onto the shoulders of giants puts the whole world below; a shimmering awe inspiring gift. A false step can send one plummeting down; landing as the lowest pariah, shunned by all.

Think of it: with thousands of footsteps in between, only one step begins a marathon; only one step ends it.

Each footstep, merely a moment of experience, albeit infinitely deep, is in preparation for the next. Step by step, living is unveiled in the journeys that unfold.

Eye? Aye? I!

Photo Credit: JKerrigan, Dreamstime

The I's have it:

Imagination sparks ideas; inciting invention, or at least innovation. Ingenuity, once inflamed, illuminates the way toward the next, higher iteration of inspiration.

A spiraling interval, rarely is it so ill-fated as to be infected with inertia or incumbered by inaction.

Should such be incurred, use it as merely an intermission, an interlude for introspection; from which to emerge indomitably invigorated.

Officially Loony

As usual on Friday morning, I checked my Twitter feed to read interesting news and to see my blog post tweet roll through. It didn't. What the heck? Didn't I schedule the tweets? Nope, I surely didn't. Even worse as you can see, I didn't post.

The post was ready, but I exhausted myself trying to build a color palette for updating my blog. I suck at it. So much so, that I spent all night (forgetting what I should have been doing) and got nowhere. Maybe it's time to enlist L - she's the style maven in the family. I'm permanently retro boho, which I understand is shamefully 'so last century'. At least I don't write that way. :-D

Done, Done, Done!

After almost a year of disciplined, structured writing time, I find myself finished with Sparks and at a loss for what to do next. There are several more character sketches I can write. My author platform needs work. There are even a couple of short stories I can finish. I've two novels in the pipe and several more concepts; enough to keep me busy for at least the next ten years. So why am I stalling?

Down time! But conversely, I have an abundance of pent up energy. So I've been using it for fun. Problem is, I haven't quite had enough fun yet. Maybe this week I'll have had all that I need... Or maybe not. In any case, I will still blog, although I'm winging it because nothing in my life right now is driving the posts. Interesting and scary.

Guess it's time for a break - my brain refuses to cooperate with anything that requires structured thinking. It wants to run wild and free. Holy cow - there it goes... Gotta run! Have you taken a break lately?

Unintended Vacation

I'd like to thank my cable/internet company for causing me to miss my scheduled blogging window last night, and giving me a vacation. Although I could post today, I'll be imposing on a different part of my schedule. So I'm taking the week off and will post this week's post next week. For my vacation, I'm enjoying Stephen King's Mile 81. Enjoy your week, and see you next Thursday!

Huffin', Puffin' & The Dancer's Smile

Gasp. Puff. Need more air. Huff. Blow. Nose open. Mouth open. Still...need...more. Keep going. Got to go forward. Always forward.

Looked up at the sun. Stupid thing to do. Too hot. My neck... my back... Burning through my shirt. My legs. Exhausted. No water - except the salt water pouring down my face. Ow - burning the corner of my eye.

Keep going. Got to make it. Gasp. Blow. Sucking in hot air. Parched from the dry heat. How much further? Still... Not close. Keep going. I. Am. An Idiot.

Why the hell did I think I could do this? Gasp. Puff. Didn't bring water. Sucking in hot air. Gasp. Pause. Pause? I have lost my mind. Sucking air. Need more.

Oh wait - I see the end. So close. Looks like I'm going to make it. Almost there. Just need more air. Gasp. Huff. Gasp. Blow. Yay! Finally... Made it... Relief...


Think this is a #fridayflash? No - just my bike ride home last weekend after riding with L to her friend's birthday party. On a whim, I had said , "Let's ride over." Me. Said that. Who hasn't been on a bicycle since before L was born - and she is now in middle school.
 
We got there; me wearing my dancer's smile. You know the one - dancers smiling widely as though leaping and spinning around the stage is effortless; when they're really sucking in amounts of air that rival the intake of a jet engine. That smile fools everyone.
 
I waved cheerily to L and her friends, and set off on the 2.2 mile ride home. Well, at least I could be happy that L would never know; that I barely made it home would remain my secret. Happy to have retained my SuperMom big, red 'S', I stood at the sink; throwing down one sixteen ounce sports bottle of water after another.
 
My cell phone buzzed. L's TM asks r u k? Sigh... Shouldn't have told her about the dancer's smile.

Where I've Been for the Past Few Weeks

From my overworked brain -

Life is hilarious, if you have a sense of humor.
Otherwise, it's damn depressing.

Can't Make This Stuff Up...

Michael Lewis' book, The Big Short was released over the weekend. I got a copy and sped through it - cover to cover. It is one of the best novels I've ever read - except that it's nonfiction. OMG WTF were the 'gurus' of the financial world thinking?

My novel, Sunrise on the Pier, touches briefly on the debacle as incentive for the characters' actions. Michael Lewis exposes the meltdown in detail, with protagonists and antagonists as colorful as in any novel. As bad as it was, the world is fortunate that the problem wasn't much, much worse. Even now, some of the major players are screaming like ill-mannered children at having their hands slapped even though they walked away from it with billions of dollars. Many of the rest of us are barely coping with the aftermath.

Next on my reading list, the acclaimed Harvard undergraduate thesis on the subject by Anna-Katherine Barnett-Hart, "The Story of the CDO Market Meltdown: An Empirical Analysis".

Bluesy Weather

It's the first of March. Rainy, foggy - the typical San Joaquin/Sacramento Valley spring. I love this blusey time of year - except for the 'tully fog'. It can spring at you from nowhere between the months of November and as late as April. It's like driving through cotton - and impossible to forecast. Once you've driven in, you have no idea when - or if - you'll drive out. So be careful out there. There are people who love you and don't want to lose you.

And I thought I would never...

Blog.  Didn't think I had anything interesting to say.  Then I wrote a book.  385 pages!  Shocked the #*@! out of me.  So I'm looking for an agent, and run across one that says having a blog is a requirement for submission.  ??  Still didn't think I had anything to say.  Then I watched 'The Planet' on the Sundance Channel.  Guess I have something to say after all.  More to come...