A walk in the woods. A pot of gold.

I went walking today in the woods south of my hometown. The air was filled to capacity with the roar of a generator that seemed to be running a television inside a motorhome. Even after I climbed several hills, I couldn't get away from that sound. It was constant and maddening. I tried to let it go, telling myself that I needed to come to terms with the fact that I'm dependent on loud, revolting technology, and more importantly, that this was one of my favorite hiking spots and that I've never heard anything like this.
There was just one problem with this. For the last ten years, everywhere I go I see earth moving equipment. Every year that passes, I see giant rent increases. A great large machine is eating Prescott, and spitting out something that I can't afford.
On the outskirts of town is land that the city council wants to annex. It will be great for a few people, and a great burden for the rest of us. To live a simple life and work hard for reasonable rewards is leaping out of our reach. Or so it seems....

The thing is that yesterday, I made $60 on a copywriting job. It was easy to get and will be fun to produce. I realize that I've found a way to make it into the demographic of Prescottonians who pay homage to the earth-eating equipment and it scares the hell out of me.

I hope that I don't settle for comfort and mediocrity in exchange for the good fight to see this town grow into a manageable and beautiful place where we can all live. If I make 10,000 or 100,000 this year, I want my goals to stay the same- simple home, tight community, lots of beauty.

There are 13 different versions of the tri-cities available to all of us. I always like to invite people to enjoy the version that I live. Amongst the anarcho-bookstore, the literary center, the quiet little art openings and the raging punk shows brimming with ugly little kids is a life I have dearly come to love. I just hope that it and I can stay around for a few more years.

Due in Two Hours

I've got an article due in two hours. I'm going to get to it. I'm going to get to it..just..as..soon..as.. I quit messing with my site. It's remarkably addictive. It's nice, because I've had a crap couple of days and had told my friend Jason that I was in the market for some sort of drug. Designing is cheap, safe, and legal. No one has to know (except for you and me, babe, except for you and me).

Last night, my friend Candace and I sat near each other working on our respective obsessions for hours. She's making technofolk on GarageBand. Samples of her work are forthcoming.

She, like all of my creative friends and I have these days when we feel as though we are facedown on the carpet. This I know because I've had a few crap days and she said that after 30 years it gets a little easier. Good. Sometimes it takes me four hours to get ready to go somewhere, and then, when everything is said and done, all I've packed is a toothbrush.

Overlooking Prescott on a tall granite outcrop. 

Good night Web site.

Cold pizza serves as a goodnight lozenge after my all-night web building efforts. So far, the site only works well in Internet Explorer, but the thing is only a few hours old, so we'll let it go. I didn't know much about website building a week ago, and now I've managed to put up something that people might find a little entertaining. If anyone out there needs help with their writing or web design, let me know. I feel like I've received so much help lately- I just want to give back.

Have a good night, all. It's a glass of water and off to bed for me.

Erica.

My First Blog

My back is hurting because I've been sitting in a wood chair on rough-hewn board floor creating my new website. It's www.dreamfactoryink.com, if any of you all are curious. I'll say more later on.

Until then, signing out.

Erica.