IF YOU’RE COOL WITH GETTING A KINDA AWKWARD ASK RIGHT THIS SECOND AND PLAN ON ANSWERING IT IN ALL HONESTY REBLOG THIS PLEASE.
Tell me about your most interesting experience!
Well… Hard to say, since interesting stuff to one person can be boring to another, but let’s go with the time I did $8000 worth of damage to someone’s truck, despite doing everything right.
This is, or was the Maniac 7 feet tall, 4 inches wide, weighed somewhere to the tune of 10 pounds, and came down on a 6 foot parachute.
It flew twice. The first time was September 2013 at that year’s XPRS. I flew it on a fairly weak motor out of caution, but it flew well! Everything went very nicely, and I started to feel a bit more comfortable with such a rocket.
That was all well and good until I brought it back to Reno and tried to fly it on a slightly larger motor.
The parachute never came out.
If you listen long enough you can hear the impact against the side of a friend’s truck, it was only about ten feet away from where two people were standing.
When it happened, I was in shock. I’d never had something so catastrophic happen at a launch before, and the most I could do was make sure everyone was okay. After gathering the pieces (The entire rocket fit in a 12” cube box) and letting the rest of the people continue the launch, I had time to sit down and think it over.
I had loaded the motor properly, I had packed the chute correctly, I had done everything correctly… It didn’t help.
This is why we have insurance, though.
The Tripoli Rocketry Association’s insurance covered everything after $2500, which came out to $5500. The rest of it, I should have been liable for, and this gave me a minor freak-out. But I found out that my renter’s insurance covers personal liability. I didn’t have to pay a dime, luckily.
It was a minor disaster and terrified me, but now I have learned, and I still launch rockets without incident on a regular basis.
Yup. Just drop this here.
It’s warm out.
But it’s apocalypse time because the entire sky is filled with smoke and everything smells like fire because of a nearby fire.
But it’s raining.
Also, if I drive an hour in one direction I can get hookers, an hour in the other direction I can get california lottery tickets.
Reno is wierd.
I write in loud moments alone, when the words in my mind crowd out the words that I plan, and fall tumbling to the page.
A tumbler full of grit and suffering, experiences and precious stones. I turn it all over to find the brilliant hues behind the stony scars.
I’m amethyst, emerald, jade.
I’m ready to be polished, to be made.
But for now I hum along, tumbling the words to an old song.
I’m frightened by the thought, a touch or smile, a laugh.
I’ve learned to hide away from the love that others give, so the nights alone don’t eat away at me quite as much.
I craft love from words instead.
She’s quiet, but smiles when they talk, clutching her phone like a life line to another world. Her clothes hang loose, like she was never taught that a body can be a work of art, like she was raised in a world where she was told daily that she was worthless. Her eyes stay on the ground, and with no warning she feels tears gathering, a pressure in her chest like she is going to cry. She needs something…
But she’s forgotten what it’s like to ask.
She’s hideous, by account of a woman in the mall, by the flinch of a hundred men, each one mistaking her for a “real woman” and hiding the barest hint of attraction under sneers and scorn.
Each time she wants to hide away, under sheets and closed shades, safe from the looks of thinly veiled horror. But she knows, today is the world’s day. Tonight will be her night.
She imagines what would save her, and it’s indistinct, out of focus but sharp on the details. It’s an impossible ideal, this mythical creature, and maybe that’s why other women expect so much of their partners. We are all trying to escape the crush of the world in on us, and it’s too much for us to take alone. How could another fare any better against the same load?
She imagines a being, firm, assured. When the beasts of the world snarl, this one stands over her, protective and fierce. A graceful power that helps her lay down, wipes away the tears, and tells her that she is beautiful.
She imagines dragons, griffin, sphinx, and dryad. Each she wonders as though a gender.
There are strong men and women, just not her. There are kind men and women, and she tries. There are creative men and women, she wonders if she’s enough. There are powerful men and women. Each of these with a spread between the two as well, and she looks out on this desert with an endless number of diamonds glittering in dunes like sand… and she declares herself unloved.
She does not know. She can not know. The desert whispers on, and she crawls back into her tent, afraid.
Rockets, woo! It's great to hear that you had a great time, Hope. Just by looking at your poetry, it seems like it was an amazing experience.
Thank you! It was a blast! hehe, bad jokes. Anyway I didn’t grab as many pictures as I wanted, but next year I’ll get a real camera.