Dear Diary . . . day by day

Tuesday, September 18th, 2001 - Making Peace

I've decided that since I can't do much of anything about our country going to war (potentially going to war; I've stopped watching so much news, as it was just getting to me), the least I can do is make peace in my own life. So, I called a truce with the friend of mine that I've been not speaking to for the past month. There are still probably issues that need to be hammered out, but I'm loathe to approach them, and so far that seems to be working ok without their resolution. But, it's nice to have that friend back, more or less. Reassuring at a time when the world has gone strange around me.
Last night, Tim and I met Karen, and her husband Par, (and their son, Tot) and John and his new wife Elisa for dinner up in Berkeley. A very lovely time, even if the band got a little loud towards the end, right when John and Tim were finally getting into "writer-talk" mode. I love both writer-talk as well as hearing Tim's interactions with old friends, and I was sorry that cupping my hands over my ears didn't quite make the conversation audible for me; I suspect I'm losing some hearing with all these ear infections lately, but I don't want to think about it right now, so I won't.
Anyway, John and Elisa were on a flight from Washington to SFO last Tuesday morning, and it was interesting hearing their experience with it. Elisa pointed out that they were not only one of 50 planes in the air, they were one of a handful that fit the terrorist's criteria for hijacking that morning. They landed at Denver where the planes were stacked up, waiting to land and the TVs were turned off in the terminal. They were lucky.
I don't mean to dwell on this, but I almost can't help it. I'm just glad I live here in the Bay Area where, as Karen put it last night, the activists are just waiting for someone stupid enough to insult a Muslim so they can yell at them and tell them not to do that sort of thing. Hm, Karen was more eloquent than that, but you get the jist. I live in a tolerant place. A relatively tolerant place.
This article gives an Afghan-American's perspective on going to war. Read it (some of you already got an email from me with the text included). Pass it around. It gives you something to think about.
And, for a more uplifting, but still topical contrast, here's an inspiring link to a journal entry about a 12-year-olds response to last Tuesday's tragedy.
In the interest of really not dwelling, I will announce that I have an interview on Thursday! Yay! This is a part-time job that will pay as much as some other full-time jobs I've been applying for, which would be rad. What's weird is that I would be one of two people in the office, and the other person would be out much of the time. Anyway, it's reassuring to get an interview.
I'm off to wrestle with the Diablo II demons . . . ah, a little winable battle, with my enemies clearly defined for me.

Exercise log:
Stretching, situps, shagging = the three "S's" of successful fitness?
Writing log:
Halfway through the Indy guide.
Current Publications:
San Francisco City Guide at EGrad.com. Written by me, edited by someone else.
I'm currently reading:
Earthquake Weather by Tim Powers
The Strange Adventures of Rangergirl by Tim Pratt
Okay, so I'm just reading the very rough first draft of the chapters fresh off the 'puter, but damn, it's already good!
My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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