Crime & Bee & Class

Wow.

Well, I suppose I should first say that I am not SO worried about crime anymore, and I'm sleeping better (but not last night--more on that later). 

The effect of "The Bravest Woman in Seattle" on me has diminished. I'm not totally terrified of waking up to a naked, knife-wielding sex offender standing over me. What I'm still afraid of is someone breaking in through Lucy's bedroom window at night.

But since that day last week, I do sleep with my car key (to set off the alarm) and phone next to my bed. And before turning in, I check the locks several times, open the bedroom doors, and turn the fans down so I can hear bumps in the night if they occur.

It sucks to be afraid to sleep. My kids' safety is my biggest concern. If I didn't have kids, I'd totally be keeping a bigass knife concealed right by my bed. I might even purchase a firearm, and I can't believe I just said that.

Burglars don't fuck around, so neither can I. They case my neighborhood and strike during the late night/early morning hours. I mean, if you're a burglar, you want to strike when your prey is most vulnerable, right? Shameful.

People who work hard to keep their lives crime- and (hard-) drug-free and legitimate get raided by assholes who are probably trying to feed social-disease-creating drug addictions. Thieves.

But since having a deadly weapon in the house puts my kids in danger, and since we have a small apartment, we're kind of against a wall. All Megan and I can do is keep our defenses up, without building up offenses.

Hopefully the cops get here soon enough if I do need to call 911.

Let me shift gears real quick--BEES! (bee picture)

Last night, all Skyrim-ed out and ready for bed, I came into the kitchen to rinse out my beer bottle and fill my water bottle.

I turn on the light above the sink, and the water. Right then, really close to me, a black dot rises up, up, up, smoothly, like a bee.

Dirty beer bottle and empty water bottle still in hand, I bolt for the door and step outside. Sure enough, it was this big-ass yellow jacket, and it was pissed. Sticking to the light, it would fly into it, bounce off the wall, and repeat, sometimes making really loud, angry buzzing sounds.

There I was, on my back porch, looking in through the door window, essentially keeping the bee IN my house. The water was still running. I was too scared to go in there when that fucker was flying around. So I waited for it to calm down and land, which took a few minutes.

Creeping in, I managed to rinse out my beer bottle and turn off the water, right underneath the thing. It started flying around again, so I backed off, again out the door. And again, the bee resumed its angry wall bouncing.

You know, it may have been a hornet. They look like yellow jackets, but bigger, right?

Another minute goes by, and the bee seems a little tuckered out. It lands on the side of the light, and was facing away from me. Gathering my wits and all my courage, I creep ever. so. slowly into the kitchen.

I look around for a towel or something--BB's bib. "Royal Stuff," lying dirty on the kitchen table. It was the best thing I could grab between the bee and I.

As I'm creeping up, my fear starts to take hold, and it takes more energy to push it down. I remain calm, and slow, and I see the thing is trying to burrow itself between the light and the wall, where there's like a millimeter of space.

Poor bee. But it was bedtime, and that angry fucker had to go.

Smash. The sound of breaking cartilage.

Bee story over.

Then I went to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I mean, I really couldn't sleep--till about 2:30 or 3. Really weird.

I'm thinking it was the tall americano I sucked down at 3 or 4 p.m., combined with the excitement of the class I'd had earlier that evening. It got me really pumped up!

We had a guest speaker - John Lok of the Seattle Times. Here's a page of links to his works--it's all photography, so there's not much to read. Look at his photos, they're good!

He played a slideshow of his best photos and talked about each one. We asked him lots of questions, to which he was very receptive and cordial about answering. 

I found his work to be inspired, and his passion for photography and photojournalism was fully apparent. I came away from the class with several notions about The Seattle Times:

1. They tell stories about people. It's a story if it's a person doing something. That's beautiful--not self-serving, but community-serving.
2. The collectors of these stories, before they're handed off to editors, are artists. They're PAID TO BE ARTISTS.

So basically I really want to work there now. The difference is I feel that I now actually have the chops necessary to be a functioning member of their team. I can collect and manipulate audio. I can interview people and put their words into news-format stories. I can capture still and moving pictures that are both aesthetically pleasing and telling a story.

Time to write a resume, right? Groan...

After Lok's presentation, I gave my pitch to the class about what I'm going to make my final project about. (2-min. audio slideshow about a person) Standing up there in front of everyone, nervous yet comfortable, and feeling them be comfortable with me, was good for my psyche. 

It seemed everyone had a suggestion for me, which was good, cause I asked. I was unsure at what angle to go for an interview with this Guitar Center employee. There's no inherent struggle involved, but they were all like, "It doesn't need a struggle--just have fun with guitars."

Now I'm confident that my project will take an appropriate shape, as I have a renewed focus on how to approach it. and it's time to stop writing and get ahold of this guy.