no trash pickin' today

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Well, it's Thursday. It's almost 7am, the time I usually head out to trash pick. But not today.

I wrote an email to Ren�e, news director at KUNM fm, telling her I couldn't meet with her today. I'm really tired from the MLK march and a trip to the store this week.

But I guess she didn't get it. When I called yesterday, she wanted to see me the same day.

I showered quickly and hustled Porkchop and my cart across campus, to the radio station. It took me a whole hour to cross campus!

I stashed Porky and the cart in an isolated corner, under some bushes, outside Onate Hall, where the station's located. I threw down my coat and told him, "go to bed."

I met a lot of my favorite radio voices. None of them looked like I'd imagined them while listening. The closest were the men: skinny guys in t shirts and baseball caps. But the women were all surprising.

It'll be nice to work with people whom I respect.

I'll be volunteering at the station on Tues. and Wed., from 11am-1pm. My first task is to organize a very messed-up rolodex system. I'm already wondering about online printable programs for that.

I explained to Renee that people in Albuquerque need to become accustomed to hearing my name and my work on a regular basis. I explained that I'm afraid people only think of me as a crazy bag lady, pushing my cart and picking trash.

She laughed and said, "you don't really do that, do you?"

I was surprised. I'd given her links to my domain and my blogs, as well as my resume and "Rogi Writes" URLs. I said, "actually, I do. I convert some things into arts and crafts to sell on the internet. Other things, I repair or clean to sell."

"Are you homeless." Oh, hell! Not THIS again!

"I pick trash in order to maintain my home and pay my rent. I can't get a decent job in this town, and I just can't flip another burger anymore."

Her attitude toward me shifted. It was subtle, but I noticed it.

We went from me, volunteering in the office while simultaneously upgrading my production and broadcast skills on their equipment to, "well, why don't you come in and work in the office a few hours a week. We'll see how we get along. And, once you finish the rolodex, we'll see if you can do a news story."

I expressed concern re: timing. The state legislature is in session for only the next 30 days. They're looking at gutting medicaid. I'd like to produce a story on that.

I'd explained that, while I'm a real journalist, and will work on any story the news department deems important, I'd like permission to focus, in particular, on news stories which directly affect the poor. I'd listed the "agressive panhandling" law, the mayor's new commission on homelessness, social services, etc.

I had assured her, when she'd said something about, "all sides...fair and balanced (isn't that Bill O'Reiley's line?)..." that I wasn't interested in writing polemics and manifestos. She had sounded relieved. I'm really a journalist. I have no interest in brow beating people into believing what I believe. I'm interested in broad casting.

Oh, I know my blogs don't necessarily reflect that. I do post many news stories. But most of my blog writing is editorial and opinion. But a blog is not a newspaper; it's a journal. And where else do I get to express an opinion?! LOL

But you'll notice my blogs contain dozens of underreported news stories, every week. I'm interested in publishing the stories we won't hear on the network news, and CERTAINLY not on am talk radio.

Well, I slipped from being treated like a peer to being treated like a potential threat and problem for the station. Because of the way I earn a living. Never mind the philosophy behind my trash picking. Never mind that dumpster diving is an artform in larger, more progressive towns. I pick trash; I might be dangerous.

I was a lady about it. I didn't get uptight. This is an opportunity, I'd told her, to crawl and dig my way out of rock bottom. I take this opportunity very seriously. I'm not about to throw it away over my bruised ego.

I walked down the hallways with the likes of Rachel Kaub, Carol Boss (I hope I'm spelling that right), Tom Trobridge (ditto) and Marti Ronish (?). These are SMART people! These are committed people! These are funny, charming, hard-working people. These are MY people!

As I was leaving the station, I ran into Marcos Martinez, station manager, in the hall.

The building's a squirrel cage; it's very easy to get lost and disoriented. Without windows, I lost my sense of direction. I was trying to find the elevator. Note: someone has scratched out most of the letters on the "Elevator" signs; they now read, "El vato." Cute, but confusing.

We hadn't introduced ourselves, but I recognized his voice and had earlier seen him exit his marked office.

I said, "This place is so confusing. And everybody runs around so fast! I'm actually dizzy!"

He smiled broadly and said, "Kinda like the TV show, 'The West Wing,' huh?"

So, we stood in that hall for a moment and discussed the writing and editting styles of "The West Wing." It's one of my favorite shows; I analyze it thoroughly. I'd never told another human being what I thought of the writing style before, how it distracts unnecessarily from the subplots, how it's obviously too impressed with its own precociousness, how much easier it is to follow the fast-paced subplots since, "that coke head, the creator, stopped writing for it."

And Martinez listened! He actually thought my opinion was interesting!

It has been over a DECADE since that has happened! At least, offline.

I'm going to have trouble, keeping up and getting a pace.

So, I don't mind doing the rolodex at first. Gawd knows, it needs doing! What a mess. Lots of time gets wasted, looking for stuff.

Rachel Kaub gave me an application for a volunteer position: 10 hrs. per week, coordinating the radio theater program. I'd expressed an interest in participating as an actor. I can't memorize lines anymore, so couldn't be on stage. But I can still read a script well.

I'm going to a station orientation a week from Sunday. I'm starting my volunteer work next Tuesday.

It felt so natural to be back in a radio station again that, at first, I forgot I've been lost for nearly fifteen years. Felt like home.

Came right home and wrote my first sonnet!

As I was walking home, I was listening to Carol Boss on "Free Form." She'd asked some performance artists and writers to write responses to the State of the Union address the night before. I tuned in just in time to hear a woman reading what I'd thought of writing: a nearly word-for-word parody of the speech, telling the TRUTH behind the propoganda.

I know I can write performance stuff. I was frustrated I haven't gotten farther along with it than I have. I compare myself to other writers too much, for one thing. I'm not a hip hop artist. I'm classically trained, but rusty.

And a sonnet has a good rythm; it rhymes; it's not hip hop, but it's a form to which an audience can relate.

So, I'm researching poetic forms, looking for ways to use them as a structure for my ideas.

I don't particularly like blank verse: too easy to get sloppy.

Real poetic forms force the writer to trim away the fat and get to the point. They're good discipline.

They're also easier to memorize, to perform, to convert to song lyrics, etc. They're easier for the audience to QUOTE later, too! Free publicity.

So, rusty as I am, I'm going through the tortures of learning to think in quatrains, iambic pentameter, and other silly stuff.

I think I'm on to something!

Then, once I have some tight poems collected together, I can slip printed copies into the "Women's Voices" and "Spoken Word" mailboxes at the radio station. See?????

dumb as a fox.

No trash picking today! I walked SIX HOURS yesterday! First, the station, then, the duck pond so Porkchop could play, then the bank and drug store, then Smith's for soda pops. By the time I got home, I was literally crying. Porkchop literally FLUNG himself on the bed and didn't move the rest of the night!