Category Firechild

As I sit here typing, I’m waiting with bated breath for a phone call with some pertinent information for something that needs to be done by midnight tonight.

One third of me is getting angry, one third of me wants to stress, one third of me is having a glass of wine and one third wants to say “Whatever! screw it”! (If you didn’t catch the math, smack yourself now.)

I’ve found over my years that stressing about stuff is not worth my energy. When I first moved to California in 1990, I was young and stressed about everything; money, bills, job, relationships, etc. It always seemed that when I hit the proverbial emotional wall and wigged out, a couple days later life was all good again. It’s like the universe was throwing me a test of sorts to see how I would handle the situation...

I was pondering, like I do every week, on what I would write about this week. I thought of touching on the Olympics with is an easy go-to (…and on that note, Shaun White, 4th is NOT bad, my dear) or touching on child stars with the news of Shirley Temple’s death.

However, for some reason, my brain spun off while basking in the warmth of my shower I was pondering how wonderfully crazy hectic my life is getting and how I miss having time to just sit and read. That’s when it hit me… it’s Story Time with Firechild!

I lived in the Bay Area from 1990 to 1996. During that time, I lived all over the area (Momma Fireplant used to keep my address and hair color in pencil in her address book), from in “The City” to the ghetto to the East Bay, etc...

One day about 12 years ago, I woke up to a very different Firechild. I wasn’t sure what was going on or why, but I thought I’d try to handle things on my own. The best way I can describe how I felt was that someone, we’ll call her “Evil Fire” took “me” and stuffed “me” inside one of those domed, Hitchcock birdcages, and locked “me” inside myself. For my Melties who are “Heroes” fans, think Niki and Jessica. I could feel “me” in there but Evil Fire wouldn’t allow “me” to talk, act out or treat people like I always had. If I had a choice to say something nice or shitty to someone, I could hear “me” screaming out something nice, but that’s not what came out of my mouth. It was like PMS 24/7 and it was horrible...