I wish I could be more like silver_chipmunk, who manages to post a gratitude list every day. It's not that I'm not grateful for certain things every day; she's just better at expressing them.

I had an interesting day. It was certainly better than Sunday afternoon when I got the news about my family.

I went to a Career Fair with a friend of mine. It was a joke and not a funny one. We waited in line for almost an hour before being let in, only to be told that five of the companies that were supposed to be there never even showed up. I've been laid off for more than six months now--I spent money to get to this fair ($9.00 for train tickets) and then all that time waiting in line--it is extremely unprofessional of these companies not to show up!

Anyway, after my friend and I voiced our mutual complaints about this, we decided to go to Kmart (the one in Manhattan) so I could buy a tree topper for my Christmas tree.

We walked into Kmart, and there was Jacklyn Smith of "Charlie's Angels" fame, just walking around. We both talked to her, and she was very nice. She looks wonderful, but I thought she looked skinnier than she appears on tv.

I then bought a tree topper (a little angel for a little tree), some get well/thinking of you cards for my family, and my favorite pretzels.

My friend then took me out to lunch at an Italian restaurant in Forest Hills. After that, we went to Martha's Bakery, which has the world's best mochachino and fondant cupcakes.

I then treated us to a cab ride home.

All in all, an interesting day, with both low and high spots, but the high spots definitely outrank the lows.

Sometimes I think I hate God.

It's not enough that my own life is far from well--I've been laid off for more than six months, and I can't sleep at night, even with meds, due to constant anxiety--the people I love have to be hurt, too.

I'm very close to my god daughter's family--they're my adopted family because I don't really have one of my own. One of her sisters lost her baby about six weeks ago and now another of her sisters had a car accident yesterday--a bad one. All of her fingers in her left hand were broken and she has two fractures in her spine.

I was supposed to spend Thanksgiving with them, just like I always do, but there won't be one this year.

I did receive another invitation from a friend, which helps me so I won't be alone on Thanksgiving, but there's very little I can actually do for my family because I don't even have the means to go visit them. I even missed little Maura's baptism three weeks ago because of my situation.

Of course, right now, I'm wondering why all these terrible things have happened in the last six months. And there isn't anyone to blame.

So maybe I'll just be angry at God. He won't mind, right?

I have often told people about what happened that day eight years ago, but I don’t think anyone has ever heard the whole entire story. It occurred to me that I have never written it down.

That Tuesday began as any other day. I got up and went to work. At the time I was working for a publishing company, whose offices were on Sixth Ave (Ave of the Americas) and West 20th St.

I always took the Long Island Railroad into Penn Station. Depending on how I was feeling when I got into Penn Station, I would either take the bus, subway, or even walk downtown to the office. I don't remember, but I guess my knees were bothering me a little bit, so I decided to take the subway and not walk it.

And this is where my memories of that day begin.

The No. 1 train I got on that day stopped just before it was supposed to pull into the 23rd St. Station. We sat there for a few minutes before the conductor came on to announce "Sorry, folks. We're being held here because of police activity downtown." Even today, eight years later, I can still hear his voice as it came over the PA system.

He made that announcement twice more before the train began moving again in five minutes. I didn't think much of it because subway trains being stopped for "police activity" somewhere was not unusual. I remember being more annoyed that I would possibly be late for work.

When you climb the stairs up at the southwest corner at the 23rd St at Seventh Ave Station, you're looking straight up into the sky. I remember thinking that it was going to be such a gorgeous day--the sky was a crystal clear blue.

It wasn't until I got to the top of the stairs that I noticed a trail of smoke, high up. I thought, "Fire somewhere downtown," and began my walk toward the office (you couldn't see the Towers from 23rd and Seventh). I would always walk down Seventh Ave to 22nd and then down 22nd to Sixth Ave so I could hit the Starbucks between 22nd and 21st before going into the office.

As I began walking down 22nd, I passed a woman who was talking on her cell phone and sobbing. I almost stopped her to ask if she was all right, she was crying so hard. If she hadn't been on her cell phone, I might have. I think she was wearing a green shirt or maybe her cell phone was green, but for some reason I always associate the color green with this woman. I never heard what she said, but I realized later that she might have seen that first plane hit the Trade Center.

It wasn't until I was more than half way down the block that I noticed this huge crowd of people standing on the corner of 22nd and Sixth, all of them looking south. When I finally reached the crowd, I asked someone, "What happened? A car crash?" A woman said, "No, a plane hit one of the Twin Towers."

I was shocked, of course, and looked downtown. I could see where the smoke was coming out of the tower and realized that that was the smoke I had seen earlier from over on Seventh Ave.

My memory gets a little blurry here, but the next thing I remember is standing in front my office building and finding three of the women I work with standing outside. One of them was crying, and I was told that she had seen the plane hit the tower. We then started talking, and the two other women kept saying that it had to be a terrorist attack. I told them that I didn't think that could be right because planes had hit the Empire State Building before. That's when they told me that it wasn't a small biplane like those that had it the Empire State, but a big jet. I talked with them a few more minutes, still saying that I didn't think it was a terrorist attack, and then went into the building and took the elevator up to the second floor and went into my office.

In between the time I got in the elevator to the time I arrived in my office, the second plane hit the other Tower.

The office was in chaos, everyone was talking and everyone was in shock. One of the guys had a radio and everyone was trying to listen to it. I remember going into my own office, which was an inside office--no windows, and it had a sliding door. I remember putting down my bags, turning on my computer, and calling my friend Marcy.

One of my first thoughts when I heard about the plane hitting the Towers was Katie. Katie was a friend of Marcy's whom I had met several times. Katie was a paraplegic who was working at the Trade Center and had to be carried down the stairs in her wheelchair when the Towers had been bombed in 1993. Marcy told me that she knew what happened and then reminded me that Katie no longer worked at the Trade Center.

I next called my Aunt Eileen to let her know that I was okay, and asked her to call everyone else in the family. I called my brother and sister. My Aunt Jeannette called me.

In between all of this, my work partner, Judy, came in, very upset. Her husband had decided to drive her into work. As they drove down Fifth Ave, they saw one of the planes hit one of the towers. She said she couldn't believe the explosion she saw.

Someone came in and told us about a third plane hitting the Pentagon. By then I knew it truly was a terrorist attack. I remember being extremely shaky and couldn't sit still. I would go back and forth to listening to news on my walkman, reading the updates on the Internet, and back out into the open area of the office to listen to the radio. It was during one of the times of leaving my office that Jerome told everyone that a fourth plane had gone down somewhere in Pennsylvania.

We were told that we didn't have to stay in the office.

During all of this, it was announced that Manhattan island was shut down--the subways had been shut down, no buses were running, Penn Station and Grand Central Station had been shut down, there no Path trains to New Jersey, and no cars were being allowed on or off the island. There was no ferry service. There was no way off the island, except maybe to walk it.

I had no way to get home. I called my voice teacher, who lived on the upper west side and asked her if I could stay with her. She said yes. It would have been a very long walk for me, but it would be easier than trying to get to eastern Queens by walking across one of the bridges.

The first tower fell and we were told to evacuate the building.

There were thousands of people standing down on the sidewalks of Sixth Ave. All of us from our office walked across the street where we had a better view of the remaining tower. We all stood staring as ambulances and rescue vehicles covered in dust and ashes sped up Sixth Ave from downtown. It was eerily quiet--that's one of the things I remember most. Thousands of people, all of them looking south, and it was so very quiet. No cars on the street, except for the ambulances.

Judy was standing to my right side, and Lois was on my left. Phil, our boss, was behind us.

Judy said, "It's going to fall." The very next second the second tower fell and the screaming began.

A woman in front of me fainted. I can still see a man reaching out to catch her as she fell. I started crying, and Lois put her arm around my shoulders.

I don't remember how long we stood there, but at one point, Phil told us we could go back inside.

Judy decided that she would walk home; she lived on the upper west side. She told me that I could come with her, but I told her that I would be going to my voice teacher’s house.

The next thing I remember is being told that Phil had arranged for sandwiches to be brought in from a local deli. I think by this time I was numb with shock. I decided to eat the sandwich I had brought in with me instead. I remember sitting in my office, by myself, and eating that sandwich as I stared at the white walls of my office. It was tuna. I don’t remember why I never walked over to my voice teacher’s house. Several of my friends from the performance class we all took together would have been there.

Sometime between 1:00 and 2:30 pm, it was announced that Penn Station had re-opened. All of us who took the LIRR decided to walk over together. Just before we left, my voice teacher called me, worried that I hadn’t arrived yet. I told her that the LIRR was working again and that I decided to go home.

Susan, Paula, and I walked over to Penn Station together. On our way there, we met someone who used to work with us. He told us that the subways were also running again.

The LIRR was only letting one train leave the station once every half hour. Susan’s train left first. My train was next, but I told Paula that I would stay with her until her train was called, if she wanted. She said no; we hugged each other goodbye and told each other to be safe. My train was nearly empty, and I sat on it for another half hour before it left the station.

I remember arriving at my apartment building and talking with several of my neighbors who were standing out in front of the building.

I remember going upstairs to my apartment. I remember hugging my cat, Sam, very hard. I remember several phone calls back and forth, but I don’t remember whom I spoke to. I don’t remember eating dinner. I don’t remember falling asleep.

I remember waking up the next morning and calling in and being told the office was closed for the day.

I remember watching the news all day Wednesday and crying.

I will never forget.

May we never forget.

Argument


It started nearly two months ago. Starsky and I had an argument in the car as I drove him home, and it escalated from there. The next morning, when I picked up him for work, I thought we’d apologize to each other and just move on from there. It’s what we’ve always done.

All I got that day was silence or one word answers.

The next day grew worse. He sniped at me, and I insulted him back. He got a ride back to his apartment with a black and white.

We spent the rest of that week driving into work in separate cars. I was so distracted and brooding Friday night that I ruined my date with Molly. She told me that the next time she was in town and wanted a fun date that she’d call a corpse.

I went to Starsky’s apartment early Saturday morning. I wanted to fix this. He wasn’t home. I called him several times over the weekend and went back to his place a time or two. He wasn’t there.

Even Huggy didn’t seem to know where Starsky had gone, although he was back at work on time for our shift Monday morning.

It didn’t take long for Dobey to figure out that something was wrong between Starsky and me. I think he called us into his offices, together and separately, at least every other day, to demand what the hell was going on. Starsky and I had our stories down pat, though. Even Dobey, battering ram that he is, could not get past our collective fortress. There were no problems. Everything was fine.

Everything was fine—up to a point. Starsky and I backed each other up—as usual. We worked our snitches and made our collars—as usual. Every case we worked on was cleaned up with our careful attention to detail—as usual.

The only thing that was unusual was us. The only time we talked or communicated was in an official capacity in the office or out on the streets. There was no more camaderie, no more teasing banter, no more friendship.

Fifty-three days ago I lost my partner and best friend.

I don’t even remember what the damn argument was about.

My best friend's sister died last night.

Between this and the lay-off happening only a week away, it's hard to give a damn about anything.

I'm beginning to wonder if things will ever get better. It certainly doesn't feel like it.

So there I am, sitting in my favorite French bistro, having my favorite lunch, talking to some people from Texas about sites they can see in NYC, when my phone rings.

I pull it out and peruse the following message from my sister:

Am getting married today at 2 pm

A and K


What I would like to know is if anyone has ever received a wedding announcement by text message before or I am unique in my experience?

I love my very strange life...

My friend Kane (kaneyoshi) gave me a list of questions to answer. Your job, if you choose to accept it, is to also answer the questions and then pass them to someone else to answer.

This lj will NOT self-destruct in five seconds...



1. Where did your LJ handle come from?
Amberle is the name of a character in Terry Brooks' "Shannara" series. She's a red-headed Elven woman who turns herself into a tree to save her people. Anybody who knows me and knows my real surname would understand why this name is very appropriate for me.

2. How do you style your hair?
It's short and red. I usually blow dry it.

3. What was the last text message you sent and to whom did you send it?
I don't know how to text! (place embarrassed face here)

4. What are you currently reading?
Three slash fan fics from "The Sentinel" universe and "Lord of Snow and Shadows" by Sarah Ash

5. Do you need music to study/write/work?
Yes. I need music all the time. I'm listening to music as I write this.

6. What is the last song on your play list?
"November Rain" by Guns-n-Roses. It's a favorite.

7. What is your biggest obsession?
Slash fan fiction

8. Do you have a crush at the moment?
Yes, but he's way out of my league.

9. What is your favorite movie genre?
Science fiction or fantasy. I rarely go to see anything else.

10. What was the last thing you ate today?
Mango yogurt.

11. What is your favorite color?
Green. I prefer pastel greens and forest greens to anything in the olive green family.

12. What websites do you visit daily?
Amazon.com; LoveofMeandThee.com; 852Prospect.com; crackvan.com; iwon.com; msnbc.com

13. What's your favorite food?
Lemon Chicken

14. Which languages do you wish you spoke?
Spanish and Japanese

15. What is your favourite drink?
Coffee.

16. Do you have a birthmark?
Yes, but it's hidden under my hair.

17. Who was your childhood idol?
My cousin, Michael. I miss him.

18. Where would you like your next holiday to be?
Anyplace without cold air, snow, and ice.

19. What do you do to fall asleep?
I read for an hour.

20. Tell me something you love about the person who tagged you.
She's one of the most talented artists I've ever seen. She's also a wonderful friend.

Today, I went to a meeting about an "Outplacement Service" that the company hired to help us find other jobs.

Thing is--we can't really use the service until after we're laid off.

Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this picture?

I am getting so FUCKING TIRED of everyone around me telling me that I'm losing my job because it's just "business"!

IT ISN'T BUSINESS, IT'S PERSONAL!

I'm losing my livelihood, and could possibly lose my home in the next several if I can't find another job very quickly.

THIS IS PERSONAL!

I was just told by another colleague that she gets to stay longer than me. I have no idea as to why, other than the fact that the someone upstairs made the decision that I'm not worth as much as she is. I've been here longer than she has and worked twice as hard (she spends half her day staring into space rather than working). I helped train her when she first started for God's sake!

THIS IS NOT RIGHT!!!!!

It's official. I will be laid off on April 1st.

Pray for me, please.

Today was a very bad day.

The thing is, tomorrow may be even worse.

Everyone in my department got called into a meeting this afternoon.

We now have 48 people working in my department. Over the course of the next two years, the company wants to bring that number down to 10.

They told us that we would all find out tomorrow when our lay off dates would be.

I am so fucking scared...

I had very nice Thanksgiving.


For the past 21 years since my mom died, I've been going to my friend Nanci's for Thanksgiving. Her youngest, Rebecca, is my god daughter; she's 20. I had have the greatest privilege watching all six of Nanci's kids grow up, and now I am getting the privilege of watching Nanci's grandkids grow up. Nanci and the kids are my family.

It's very seldom the family can get together anymore, but for this Thanksgiving, the whole clan was there. We didn't get to do our usual "what are we thankful for" spiel cause we got off the subject, but I don't mind, cause it was right there in front of me. I got to play with the babies, and Peter, Faith's two-year-old son, even gave me a hug. I had a long talk with Hope, whom I've hadn't really talked to in years because she was away at college or doing long stints of volunteer work in third-world countries.

There was lots of food and the turkey was delicious. I had a second helping of stuffing, which I wasn't supposed to do...

I thoroughly enjoyed my Thanksgiving day, but now it's Friday afternoon, and I have a craving for pizza.

So I will now go get pizza and go for a long walk.

I lost 12 lbs.

Twelve pounds!

YAY FOR ME!!!

I have been told that my LJ journal is dull and boring and that it needs some snazzing up. I also need some more icons and the main one needs to be updated.

The problem is that I am useless when it comes to all things artsy. I can't draw, I can't paint, I can't sculpt, I can't make icons, and I can't make my lj snazzy.

So I am seeking help.

I wouldn't mind if someone would tell me where I could find some cool icons (Starsky & Hutch and The Sentinel icons would be great).

After that I would welcome some suggestions so I can make my lj "snazzy."

Thank you.

I got up very early this morning to go vote. I've never seen the lines that long at the polling place before, and I've been voting there for the last nine years. I was late for work!

I usually don't watch election results, but I wanted to watch tonight.

Man, did I have fun tonight!

What made it really fun was chatting online with two friends while the results were being announced. One of those friends doesn't even live here in the US, but she was just as pumped as I was about this election. She even watched the speeches on the net. It was so great sharing this with both my friends. I really want to thank both of them. We're all very happy tonight!

Obama won!!!

You know what I miss?

Bandaid wrappers that you could open with that little red strip down the side. Can't even open the Bandaid wrappers now without nearly ripping the Bandaid in half.

I miss Starsky's Candy Store. For 25 cents, you could get anything you wanted. A single dollar could keep you in candy for a week. Best Chocolate Egg Creams in Brooklyn, too. I miss the hot pretzels with just the right amount of salt and lots of mustard. I miss the boxes and boxes of pumpkin seeds. Old Starsky sometimes came across as quite the grouch, but I could tell he loved all us kids.

I miss eating fried flounder and french fries with my hands. Why do we have to be so damn polite when we grow up? There used to be a fish store where they would fry them up for you. Those french fries were the best, and 25 cents got you a whole bag. But you had to be careful where you ate them or you'd be forced to share.

I miss Sunday afternoon naps--just after coming home from Sunday brunch at Socrates. When the whole house would be super quiet and the only sound you could hear was the rest of the family breathing.

I miss Dotty's kids (Paul, Tom, Joe, Jamie, and Michael Joy). Dotty was Mom's best friend. I miss Dotty's hugs. I miss the way all us kids, plus the dogs, used to run back forth between our apartment and theirs. I miss all of us sprawled on my bed (I had the biggest and the best--I think seven kids was the record) so we could all watch "Baretta" together on my little black and white TV.

I miss Tom most of all. Fifteen years later, and it still hurts way down deep to know you're gone. I'll always love you, Tommy.

I miss playing gin rummy when the lights went out. We had a marathon session during the blackout of '77.

I miss playing Monopoly and always winning.

I miss Driggs Ave. I miss the way the kids used to write on big pieces of paper and send messages to each other on rainy days.

I miss Mom. I miss the way I used to get up in the morning at 5:00 am to make her coffee and then go back to bed. She insisted that I was the only one who knew how to make it right. It took me years to figure out that getting up that early was the only quiet time she ever found for herself.

I miss the stereo cranked up to full and the way we'd all dance in the livingroom, even Mom, who couldn't dance at all. Would you believe that Mom loved the band KISS?

I miss the fact that making friends was damn easy as a kid. I wonder how I lost that skill along the way?

I hate being lonely.

With Summer 2008 coming to close, I have to honestly say that this particular summer has not been kind to me.

It started with Mike & Reb's wedding. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, but it wasn't, at least not for me. I knew how sick Mike was. He was gone three weeks later.

Mike's death has affected me profoundly, more than I ever thought I would admit. I've been severly depressed since then, which has led to my losing interest in some of things I loved. I didn't post at all in an rpg I've been playing in for the last two years. Although I wasn't specifically asked to leave, it was gently suggested that I should. I agreed because I knew I wasn't being fair to the other players with my lack of posting.

Mike's Memorial Service was scheduled a month after he died--for the week I had planned my vacation--and it was a vacation I was looking forward to a great deal. I would have loved to meet all the great people from the LoveofMeandThee group, but I knew I had to cancel. I have to say here that the people in this group have been a source of light to me this summer, and am very grateful to them all. I hope to meet them someday.

Mike's Memorial Service was lovely. It started out with a New Orleans style funeral procession, down to the Rosendale Rec Center. Reb was there, of course, sitting in a wheelchair, still recovering from a fall she took two days earlier. Mike's friends played and sang, remembering him, singing the songs he asked them to sing and singing some of the songs he wrote himself. Some spoke and told stories. I gave his eulogy, explaining why he called me his "adopted daughter", even though I'm a younger cousin. In more ways than I can count, he was a truer father to me than my own had ever been.

In between canceling my vacation to SHarecon and Mike's memorial, my best friend suggested that we go to Vegas in October. This past Monday, she was offered a job teaching two courses at one of the local colleges. My secondary plans for a great vacation are now canceled. (Another friend, Terri, thinks that God is trying to tell me to stick close to home.)

This morning, my best friend called me to tell me she was in a car accident last night. She wasn't badly hurt, but the news scared the hell out of me. She hadn't been to a doctor or even the emergency room, and was adamant about teaching her first class tonight, even though she complained about her head and neck hurting. We had made plans for going out to see a friend perform with his band on Friday night and then go shopping on Saturday, and she kept going on about how she might not be able to get a rental car for the weekend. Like I care about that anymore! I'd rather she stay at home and rest. I have a feeling that she'll still insist that we go out tomorrow night if she can get a car, so I'll go, just to make sure she's really all right. Maybe I can convince her to stay home Saturday.

Summer 2008 is almost over, and it has left me feeling weary, sad, depressed, and lonely. I only can hope and pray that Autumn 2008 will bring better days for me.

Right now I want to strangle my sister.

She lives two thousand miles away from me. I need to tell her about Michael, but her phone has been turned off. She also does not have a computer. I did send her an email, but it could be days before she gets to the public library so she can get her email.

I can't even send her a telegram because they don't exist anymore!

This has happened before--there have been times I've needed to contact her, but there was no way to do it. However, this time is the absolutely last time!

I don't care what I have to do--but I will make sure she has a phone even if I have to pay for it!

Family! Grrrr!

Michael died this morning.

The voice I loved to hear most in this world has been silenced.

I'm going to miss him so much.

When my biological father abandoned our family when I was only ten, Michael became our father. He was there when my mother got sick when I was ten and then again years later when she was dying. He taught me how to sing and how to laugh and he yelled at me and disciplined me when I needed it. When I did my first cabaret show, he was there. He taught me that human beings are all the same and that all should be treated with respect. More than anything, he taught me that love is a gift to be shared. He was never afraid to say "I love you" and he taught me not to be afraid of saying it, either. And I'm very grateful that I got to tell him at his and Rebekah's wedding three weeks ago.

I love you, Michael.

I miss you.

When my god daughter was seven or eight years old (she'll be 20 in September), I took her to the Disney Store. As we walked around the store, I told her that I always loved Winnie the Pooh.

It's funny the things kids remember.

I was at her house this past Sunday for her step-dad's birthday party. I was sitting in the backyard, talking with her sisters and brother-in-laws when she walked up to me and planted this absolutely enormous gift bag in front of me and told me "Happy Birthday" (my b'day is this Friday).

When I unwrapped the tissue paper, there was a giant Winnie the Pooh stuffed doll. I was so surprised! This thing is huge; it's even bigger than my god daughter's niece, who is two years old!

Every surface in my bedroom is covered with all kinds of stuff, so there is nowhere to put Winnie right now until I can clear some of the clutter away. For now, he is happily occupying a chair in my dining room.