Not About an Earthquake

There are moments when life throws you a bone, and gives you something you can write about easily without much thought or foreplanning.  But there is no better way to confirm your willpower, or your existence, than to throw that bone defiantly back in life’s face.  I will not be a lemming.  There is no way I will write about the earthquake that happened on Saturday morning.  I refuse to tell you that is was a 7-something earthquake down in Miyagi-ken and shook all the way up beyond my house.

I certainly won’t tell you that I had just gotten up, was lying on my couch and, for the first few seconds, thought it was just a large truck driving down the street.  You’ll never know how many seconds it took me to realize that there’s no way a truck could be that long and to head for the nearest support beams in my house to hide under.  You’ll totally be in the dark about how I had a revelation about how old that house is, panicked and headed for the huge driveway outside my house, where my car was dancing back and forth, entirely on its own.  Power lines, too.  There’s no way on earth you’ll hear about how the ground felt like it was going to open up and swallow me whole or perhaps a giant earth-burrowing worm monster was going to take me for breakfast.

No.  I’m not that cheap, and I certainly don’t need to look that hard for something to blog about.  Maybe someday, when I really reak of desperation– then I’ll tell you all you need to know about the Miyagi-Iwate earthquake of 2008.