Back in 1990, before Microsoft Windows was really a useful thing, and before Nirvana released Nevermind, and before Bill Clinton became the hippest, swinginest saxophone-playing presidential candidate ever seen on the Arsenio Hall Show, all the headlines were about a species of Oregon owl.
Where have I been? I looked back at my blog, and realized it’s been five days since I’ve posted anything. I must admit at the outset, the impending elimination of my job has hit me harder than I thought it would. I took off Wednesday afternoon, trying to discover where my head had rolled after I, smiling, placed the stupid thing in the federal guillotine. I went to work Thursday, waved to my adoring fans as if I could enjoy nothing so much as appearing at work.
I was thinking about it a couple months ago, and I wonder if my mom was scared of water. As kids, my sister and I would swim one or two times a summer, if we were lucky. Curry County is rather a water-borne place. Other kids swam upriver (the Rogue River was the only “upriver” that mattered), or at Lobster Creek, or on the very warmest days, in the surf of the Pacific Ocean.
I like change. I like things to morph and evolve and grow. What I don’t like is when things stay unendingly the same. Friendships, the weather, my wardrobe – no! I am restless and bored easily. I used to tease my California friends about the weather in Scotts Valley, where I went to college. It was always sunny (or foggy). You had to go outside and feel the air to discern the season. I knew I could never live there because it’s too mundane for me. Too much of the same thing makes me crazy.