(this is a fictional account of an actual experience I had)

So you think being a chauffeur or footman is a boring job? You don’t want to be a servant? Well, let me tell you, while it's not always a piece of cake, being a footman has its perks. Like chocolate, for instance. However, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about the night that I was a footman, photographer and assistant chauffeur.

For so long my life sang quietly, steadfast and sure
Seasons came and went, suns rose and set
Monday became Sunday and memories all blur
Only delight of the mind proceeded untoward

Now it seems my mind is still
Too full of things to learn yet more
And when I look outside myself I find
The world has changed and changed some more

Where are those blessed childhood days
Spent walking over sunny hills?
I loved it then and I love them still
But I no longer know where to find
The quiet path winding though the fields

this movie is something
i've seen before
i tell her to hide, but she opens the door.
an untimely fate,
nothing to say
we're all no ones and nothings
searching for someones and somethings

(so much for a happy ending)

my half-empty view is routine
while you insult the technicolor screen.
i sneak into another show,
while your still saying,"told you so...."

sticky floors and an encore
a horror picture at best
let's not forget who made this mess.

My palms were sweating. I leaned forward, staring at my computer screen and blinking owlishly behind my square-rimmed glasses my brother hates. I was staying up way too late, but I had to finish this. My brain froze and I momentarily panicked.
No! No, no, no, no, NO! Don’t do this to me! Anything but brainfreeze!

I wasn’t sure why I was standing here, in the middle of a busy city sidewalk. Cars zoomed by on the road and people walked by me, some intent on getting somewhere, other leisurely strolling along.
It was bright, and the whole scene seemed to be metal…the buildings, the sidewalk, even the street, though it might have been a trick of the sunlight. But it was a warm, inviting tone, not the cold stainless steel look.
“Excuse me, but where am I?” I asked, stopping a man holding a newspaper.

It was the date April eighteen, the year seventeen seventy-five,
And so t’was that important day the minutemen woke at night.
In sleep they were disturbed by the cries of William and Paul
Letting the English army’s presence be known that night to all.
The next morning a small group waited, it was April nineteen,
And the Englishmen were then there to fight and be seen.
They reached the town of Lexington, and the farmers waited
As the sun rose the moon went down, and so slowly faded.

The evening was beautiful and cool. I felt very much in need of a pleasant, peaceful walk, having just been working hard in the garden weeding and picking beans and cucumbers.So I decided to go to the field and back, and maybe check for berries while I was there.

Here is the "new and improved" version of what I wrote a while back.

It's not as if you haven't done this before. This is where you feel comfortable... where you've wanted to be and have been since you were litle. But your muscles tighten, your heart practically growls in your chest - just like the first time. Just like every time.

This is what you do. This is who you are: whatever they see. Flash-flash, click pur SNAP. Cameras watch your every move. Judging where you put your left foot compared to where you put your right foot; the elgant sway of your shoulders; the exact tilt of your head - judging you like no one else does.

Chapter 16: Fearful Anticipation