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So I started a writers group.

Yay!

It's been cool so far. We have our 3rd meeting ever on Sunday. It's me, Bran, Tash, Crystal, Nina and Jeremy. Right now it's only me, Bran and Crystal writing anything but I'm hoping everybody else will get inspired and turn in their own stuff soon.

I'm a little jealous of Brandi and Crystal. They've both got manuscripts they've been working on for years - shit... Brandi has a whole BOOK she's giving us (we read one chapter at a time). I, on the other hand, only bring to the table what I've been able to scrape together in a week and a half. It's nice because I'm writing again but it sucks because I have measly short stories to present. It would be cool to have something a bit more grounded - with longevity. That being said, I kinda like the stories I'm working on. There's two of them so far (I switch them off) and they're diverse enough to keep me exercised. Yay for writing again!

DISCOVERY: Audiobooks. HELLS YEAH. I have an hour long commute to TCC northeast campus (holy shit - did I mention I was in pre med?!) and I've pretty much exhausted the 5 radio stations Dallas has. All the studying and homework leaves me tired with no time/motivation to read real books anymore but I desperately want books in my life so I decided to take advantage of my car and listen to them instead.

First one: Neil Gaiman narrating Coraline. Awesome. Hilarious. Creepy. I love Neil Gaiman anyway so it's not like it's a hard sell. Added plus: he's really good with voices.

Current one: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, narrated by Douglas Adams. OMG AMAZING. Sometimes I'll get so into it I'll go 10 - 15 minutes on the road not paying attention to where I'm going. I'll drive on automatic, switch lanes, avoid crashes - all while laughing uncontrollably at poor little Arthur Dent. Must read/hear!

Next up: Brothers Karamazov

Audiobook note: so far I'm liking books read by their authors. I figure the authors know their own material better than anybody else, right?

I should sleep. I haven't had much lately because of school, and Heart Walk is tomorrow! The Dallas Bebots Adventure Collective is walking it. Me and Ronnie started the DBAC and tomorrow is our first big fundraising event (we've done volleyball and rockclimbing so far). I designed our shirts (taking awesome girls from dropdeadsexy.com) and we're unveiling them at the event.

I also got volunteer orientation at the Women's Center and the art show at Canton Co-op (both of which I have to tell you about at some other time). And I guess my next entry should probably expand on the whole school bit :)

Nighty night!

P.S. OMG How could I forget?! I didn't tell you about Sherlock! I've become a HUGE Sherlock Holmes groupie. Crystal took me to a play last month and I was surprised by how entertaining it was, so I went out and bought the whole collection of stories and books dealing with Mr. Holmes. GOOD GOD I'm hooked. Whenever I do feel like reading, that's what I read. I even went out and bought the new movie (Guy Ritchie, Robert Downey Jr) and I adore it. I'm obsessed!

!

I was born in one country (Philippines) but raised in another (USA), completely isolated from family besides my direct one. In the town I grew up in there were no filipinos - nobody who looked like me or acted like my parents. Obviously I adjusted. I'm very happy but it still amazes me to see friends who can visit the hospital where they were born, go to the school that their parents/grandparents/etc graduated, call on their grandpa/uncle/etc when they need to jump start their car, and have huge family gatherings like in Christmas movies where all the cousins/aunts/uncles know each other and look like each other and laugh and talk and... well, you get the point. Both of my parents have lots of brothers and sisters but I know hardly any of them.

Yesterday someone posted on a facebook picture that I looked like my aunt. WONDERS OF ALL WONDERS! I had never heard that in my life. Suddenly I resemble somebody. Suddenly I take after someone who is not my Dad or Mom - someone who is alive and out there somewhere.

This might sound cheesie since, you know, the internet/telephones exists... but I grew up in America and tried so hard to fit in, I never really wanted to know about the people back home. Now that I'm older it means so much more to me. I was wondering if anybody else has ever felt the same way?

I DONT CARE HOW BIG YOUR BLUE EYES ARE!!!!

If you pee on my bed right before a party - on fresh sheets no less! - you will FEEL MY WRATH. I'M TALKING TO YOU YOU STUPID CAT!!!!!!


AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

Dallas Morning News

This is the first thing I hear every time I come home. For years it seems, the first hellos upon entering the house were always bypassed by my brother in his urgency, looking me in the eyes in what could be the only time he ever does so, saying,

"Summer, I want Dallas Morning News 1983, 84, 85 and 1988"

And for years I would always float past him, my mind on other things, programmed to react with precise oblivion (and a hint of annoyance), "Yes, Ryan."

Not anymore. Maybe it's because I'm older? I don't know. But for some reason now I strain to hear what he says, to write them down in my head so I can repeat the action on paper later. Then maybe we can find them - those lost editions - and maybe he will be content.

I know we've looked for them before. My brother has been taken to Half Priced Books endless times in search of such tomes. My mother recalled a time she spent hours at the local library while he scrambled through dusty shelves of Dallas Morning News archives, looking for whatever month or year could unlock the prize. Whenever she came close he would shut the book in his possession, peering over his shoulder to note the disturbance, and start afresh with another book. Mommy says she thinks he's looking for old cigarette ads.

I hope we find them one day. I also hope that when we do he will be satisfied. I have a distinct fear, though, that he will just ask for Dallas Morning News 1989.

All evil exists for a reason

except for child molesters and mosquitoes.

Daniel

He is my brother's piano teacher. My parents found him through some organization that specializes in musical therapy for the mentally retarded. Ryan was his first ever piano student.

I came home for my birthday this year and - low and behold - his birthday is the same as mine. Ryan had a lesson that day. Mommy was in charge of getting the birthday cake. When I got there Daniel and Ryan were finishing up the lesson and Daddy was finishing up the lumpia. The cake was displayed proudly on the kitchen table. It said:

Happy Birthday Daniel and Summer!

We celebrated together. He was polite enough to stay for dinner and blow candles out with me but had to rush off for what I imagine were his real birthday plans. Mommy says out of all of the piano teachers we have had (and in 20 odd years we have had many) he is the best for Ryan. He noticed Ryan enjoyed rhythm so he suggested they sing together. Now they sing during their lesson every week, Beatles and show tunes and pop hits. Ryan's playing has progressed and he is better than he has ever been.

The world needs more Daniels.

"You are what you do every day"

so what are you?

Suicide watchman saves scores at death spot

From the publication "The Independent" Sunday, 13th of June

--

A former life insurance salesman has "sold life" to scores of people trying to end it all at Australia's most notorious suicide spot.

In nearly 50 years Don Ritchie, 84, has saved at least 160 people at The Gap, a rocky cliff at the entrance to Sydney Harbour - and he is still on suicide watch.

Lost souls who stood atop the cliff, wondering whether to jump, say their salvation was a soft voice breaking the sound of the wind and the waves, asking: "Why don't you come and have a cup of tea?"

And when they turned to the stranger, they say his smile made them want to live.

Mr Ritchie, who lives across the street from The Gap, is widely regarded as a guardian angel who has shepherded countless people away from the edge.

What some consider grim, Mr Ritchie considers a gift.

"You can't just sit there and watch them," he said, perched on his beloved green leather chair, from which he keeps a watchful eye on the cliff outside.

"You gotta try and save them. It's pretty simple."

Since the 1800s, Australians have flocked to The Gap to end their lives, with little more than a 3ft fence separating them from the edge. Local officials say around one person a week commits suicide there and in January, Woollahra Council applied for nearly £1.2 million government funding to build a higher fence and tighten security.

In the meantime, Mr Ritchie keeps up his voluntary watch. The council recently named him and his wife of 58 years, Moya, 2010's Citizens of the Year.

He has saved 160 people, according to the official tally, but that is only an estimate. Mr Ritchie does not keep count but says he has watched far more walk away from the edge than go over it.

Dianne Gaddin likes to believe Mr Ritchie was at her daughter's side before she jumped in 2005. Though he cannot remember now, she is comforted by the idea that Tracy felt his warmth in her final moments.

"He's an angel," she says. "Most people would be too afraid to do anything and would probably sooner turn away and run away. But he had the courage and the charisma and the care and the magnetism to reach people who were coming to the end of their tether."

Each morning, Mr Ritchie climbs out of bed, pads over to the bedroom window of his modest, two-storey home, and scans the cliff. If he spots anyone standing alone too close to the precipice, he hurries to their side.

Some he speaks to are fighting medical problems, others suffering mental illness.

Sometimes, the ones who jump leave behind reminders of themselves on the edge - notes, wallets, shoes. Mr Ritchie once rushed over to help a man on crutches, but by the time he arrived, the crutches were all that remained.

In his younger years, he would occasionally climb the fence to hold people back while his wife called the police. He would help rescue crews haul up the bodies of those who could not be saved and would invite the rescuers back to his house afterwards for a comforting drink.

It nearly cost him his life once. A chilling picture captured decades ago by a local news photographer shows Mr Ritchie struggling with a woman, inches from the edge. The woman is seen trying to launch herself over the side - with Mr Ritchie the only thing between her and the abyss. Had she been successful, he would have gone over too.

These days, he keeps a safer distance. The council installed security cameras this year and the invention of mobile phones means someone often calls for help before he crosses the street.

But he remains available to lend an ear, though he says he never tries to counsel, advise or pry. He just gives them a warm smile, asks if they would like to talk and invites them back to his house for tea. Sometimes, they join him.

By offering compassion, Mr Ritchie helps those who are suicidal think beyond the terrible present moment, says psychiatrist Gordon Parker, executive director of the Black Dog Institute, a mood disorder research centre that has supported the council's efforts to improve safety at The Gap.

"They often don't want to die, it's more that they want the pain to go away," Mr Parker said. "So anyone that offers kindness or hope has the capacity to help a number of people."