Cicada Files Archives: May 11, 2004

Gross Encounters of the X Kind

Tuesday, May 11, 2004 @ 9 PM

I had my first encounter with a member of the Brood X Cicada family.  I live on the outskirts of the Patapsco State Park, so I’m sure that the cicadas in my area will be rolling like P.Diddy’s entourage in a few weeks.  However, it’s still pretty early in the Brood X season, so I didn’t expect to see a cicada this soon.

On Tuesday evening, I stopped at a gas station on Security Boulevard to buy gas.  (I had to take out a second mortgage on the house just to fill up my gas tank…but that’s a whole ‘nother saga).  As I was walking towards the pump, it happened.  This huge bug landed on my right shoulder!  It looked to be about the size of a 4-year-old child…I kid you not!  Okay, so it wasn’t 3-feet tall, but it was way too big to be flying around!  I don’t know if the thing was lost and needed directions to the park, or if God was exercising his sense of humor, but it picked the WRONG shoulder to land on.

For a minute there, I tried to lay aside my fear of insects, and tried to play it cool.  I thought if I could simply brush it off my shoulder, I’d be okay.  My first instinct was to scream, but I was trying to handle it rationally.  So I started flicking at the thing, and then I proceeded to stomp my foot; the bug didn’t move.  I yelled at the bug; it didn’t move.  After exhausting all possible options, I had no choice.  I had to scream.  And you know what?  The bug still didn’t move.  It took a little twisting and turning, and a lot of screaming for the bug to eventually fall to the ground.

A couple of other customers at the gas station asked me if I was okay.  I think one lady was laughing at me as she was pulling off.  But trust me, that sister will have her day.  I was so freaked out by this bug landing on me, that I quickly put the cap back on the tank, hopped in the car and sped off.

As a result of my experience, I’ve come up with a few tips to help people cope with the Brood X Cicadas:

  1. Don’t buy gas from the Shell station on Security Boulevard. This is a cicada-friendly establishment.
  2. Don’t waste your energy trying to yell at, or reason with a cicada. Cicadas don’t understand English.
  3. Don’t move near a state park. Parks tend to have a lot of trees, and cicadas like trees. Hence, where there are trees, there will be lots of cicadas and mass pandemonium.
  4. If a cicada lands on your shoulder, you can easily get it off by turning in a circle twice counter-clockwise while screaming loudly. This will effectively make the cicada dizzy and will scare it (along with anyone within 30 feet of you).

In the coming weeks, as the cicadas sneak out of the Patapsco State Park and start roaming through my neighborhood, I’m sure I’ll come up more reasonable and rational tips to pass along.

Cicada Non Grata

 

I don’t know who told the Brood X Cicadas that they could just show up unannounced four years early. But whoever it is, they will have hell to pay. It’s 2017, and those beady-eyed flying terrors of destruction were not due back here for another four years. I needed those four years to come up with an escape plan.

Anyone who knows me know that I am not a cicada fan. And anyone who knows me well knows that I had a little blog called The Cicada Files back during the last Brood X invasion.

As I will be spending a lot of time indoors over the next several weeks, I’ll be sharing posts from The Cicada Files archives here.

Damn you, Cicadas.

Freewriting: A #LoveLetter

Every Tuesday during the month of February, I’ve been leading a community writing workshop at the Mondawmin Mall’s Re-Entry Center in Northwest Baltimore. It’s something I’ve been doing for the past five years simply because I love sharing and inspiring others to find and develop their voice through writing.

Considering it was Valentine’s Day, I thought it quite apropos that we wrote about love yesterday. Not that sappy kind of love we wrote about in grade school, or that Hallmark kind of love, but love. Pure, deep, all-encompassing love. I asked everyone to write about who, what or why they love, and let them take the theme wherever their hearts, minds and pens desired. What came out were eloquent, insightful and brilliantly unique pieces that explored the breadth and the depth of love. Here’s what I wrote:

Oh writing? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love writing. I love words. I love how they ebb and flow, swirl and swing on the page. I love how words strung together can form beautiful poetry, unbreakable narrative chains, passionate arguments. I love how words have the power to make us act, feel, think, dream, relate.

I love No. 2 pencils for they make me feel smart and determined. I love how pencil sound against paper. I love notebooks and journals and college-ruled paper. I love how felt-tipped pens give my words flair and finesse. I love handwriting. I love my handwriting, and all the loops and curls. I love typing words on a fresh screen. I love Helvetica and Arial and all the other fonts that make my words look gorgeous and perfect. I love how I can share my deepest dreams and craziest ideas with my pens, pencils, papers, (or my Macbook) and how they, like no other, can keep a secret.

I love giving birth to ideas on the page and the screen. I love creating characters, giving them breath, movement and purpose. I love taking my characters where they lead me, and leaving them better or different than when I first met them. I love creating landscapes for my characters to explore. I love painting pictures with words so readers can see. I love the musicality of words that can make even the most mundane moments of our lives sound beautiful and extraordinary.

I love sharing my writing. I love reading my writing — silently or aloud — giving my words power and depth, giving my life purpose. I even love it when someone gets what I’m trying to say, especially when they have to swim through a sea of jumbled words to get to the meaning. I love that I have the chance to create, revise, improve and flourish every day.

That’s what I love.

Who, what or why do you love?