Yeah...and so, anyway...

( Unfortunately, I can only remember three names in this video, and that's James McAvoy, Minnie Driver, and Juliette Lewis. I recognize a few of the others. The guy holding the sign is really familiar, but his name escapes me. The rest of the actors are completely unknown to me, probably because I don't keep up with a lot of popular entertainment. Help me out with the names of these people, folks!)  Thank you, Mr. Peterson, my history teacher in summer school at Luther Burbank Senior High , who, in 1975, challenged all of us to question history and how it has been taught. He was a very tall and imposing man of Swedish descent whose thunderous voice instantly silenced us when he strolled into the classroom at 8 am sharp. And he told us something that no history teacher had the audacity to say before or since: "Forget all the economic arguments you've read in your textbooks about the causes of the Civil War. There was only one way the wealthy plantation owners...

su-sur-rus: a soft murmuring or rustling sound; a whisper. It's also the name of Sacramento City College's literary magazine. I should have figured there would be trouble last Saturday when the 4:24 p.m. Regional Transit bus number 21 from Sunrise Mall to Mather Field light rail station was late. It was more than late. It never showed up. There was a group of young men sitting on abandoned, overturned shopping carts at the bus stop when I arrived. They seemed to be so casual and unconcerned that I assumed they were just hanging out. After forty minutes, I was getting anxious. Where was the bus? I searched Coloma Road once again for any sign of a dark blue and bright yellow bus, then turned to the boys. "Are you all waiting for the bus?" "Yes, ma'am." If I wasn't so upset about the bus, I would have been surprised. Five young black men wearing baggy jeans, sweat jackets and tennis shoes referring to me as "ma'am"? Either I look o...

Y'all have fun with Loki? No? Too bad, so sad. Actually, I'm not sad at all, but I figured I would say that to help you feel better. Anyway, I did absolutamente nada yesterday. I didn't want to see one red balloon or a single red rose. Not to mention chocolates. I didn't want to have to hurt someone. So I stayed at home, read a bit and watched two movies on DVD. And I did my recovery work. That's about all I could handle. As a dear friend in Faith and recovery once told me, this is intensive care. Right now, my apartment is my ICU. It won't be that way forever, but yesterday it was a necessity. It occurred to me that none of you will see the story that I wrote for publication because it will be published as part of a literary journal, which also means writing por gratas. But publishing credits look good to literary agents. Since there's no money changing going on, I figure I might as well post it here to a wider audience. Yes, like any other person i...