My neighborhood...

City of the Dead

Twisted concrete forms with rusting spines
Jutting from the crumbling rock
Past industry rubbed raw in 50 years of salty air
Relics painted by the hands of youth

Broken testaments to loved ones lost
Forgotten names stolen by the sea
Life spans swept away in the waves
Now a graveyard to black waterfowl
Feathered necks slither lifeless through the stones

Painful creaking of octogenarians
Submissive to the force of an invisible foe
Where no cypress should be they grow still
Beaten down by relentless wind

Padded paws traipse overgrown steps
Concrete stages set for acts of war
Ghostly hollows of unused cannons
Marching regiments descend into the earth
Reclaimed by gnarled roots and spongy soil

Above murky depths clouds kiss the mount
Dense fog the only shroud for nameless souls
Foreign bones rest obscure beneath 18 holes
Glistening legion of recreation and eternal art

Black grids lead down cream-colored rows
Cultures tucked quietly behind locked gates
Jovial echos of chutes and road houses
Playgrounds drowned by march of days


Outer Lands once sandy bosom of the dead
Undulating dunes leveled and paved
Giving way to Thai Palaces and Golden Rivers
Where cold flesh burned now children swim
Memories fade with withering mourners


Lonely symbol perched in reverence
Tumbling down the quaking slope
Replaced by learning to reign on high
Monuments polished but disguised
The past decays with salt and wind

My everyday

I wanna talk about my job. No no, not Buca. While this was my home for nearly five years, I was finally able to pull away and find use for my degree. Journalism? No. But interesting nonetheless. I work as a personal assistant/office administrator for Dr. Brenda Wade (docwade.com). This basically means I have two jobs: juggling clients, invoices and budget with writing media pitches, arranging travel and buying shoes.

This is basically what I do... just wish I had those clothes!

I'm inclined to relate my job to The Devil Wears Prada. I'm that wide-eyed, new grad, wanna-be journalist living in the big city and looking for my break, as it were. What I end up doing is running all sorts of crazy errands and doing secretarial-like work for a celebrity psychologist. How does this happen? Well, I found the journalism industry to be disillusioning and a job therein seemingly unattainable (but I'm now wondering if it were just lack of effort on my part?). Anyhow, the ad was posted on Craigslist and I answered. Frankly, I was sick and tired of the restaurant industry and ready for something 9-5 and steady. Well I found it! And learning this job (which I'm still in the process of 3 months into it) has been dizzying. Names to recognize, schedules to juggle, last-minute plans, a whole new industry to understand (new-age, holistic psychology)... Well, Dr. Brenda, unlike Meranda the "Dragon Queen" is a compassionate, friendly and loving person. I'm blown away everyday by her capacity to move at a 1,000 miles a minute while still remaining gracious and calm. Unlike that silly movie, if Brenda were to tell me I reminded her of herself, I would be flatter beyond words. Who wouldn't appreciate being compared to a strong, successful business woman? That movie totally missed the mark. Women should be encouraged to succeed, not hold back for the sake of friends or men. Grrr...


Anyhow, this job is interesting and full of possibilities and connections (I might go to India with Brenda next winter!), but not without it's faults. I find myself sitting behind an unmanageably cluttered desk with a to-do list seven miles long and a coworker that constantly criticizes everything I do (not Brenda). But sweet and sour, right? My pay is consistent though not terribly high, the hours are amazing and I get a parking space. More to come, of course!