Date: Tue, 11 Aug 1998 15:38:14 EDT From: "Diane L. Schirf" Subject: [WRITERS] SUB: BIO: "In my life, I've loved you more" Comments and criticisms welcome -- go ahead; tear my dull little life apart. :) My life -- the short version . . . By Diane L. Schirf, ye olde curmudgeon I'd like to say I was born a ramblin' man, trying to make a livin' and doin' the best I can -- but I was born a female, so that sort of squelches that idea. I was born one auspicious June day, the 24th day to be more precise, in 1961 at our Lady of Victory Hospital in Lackawanna, New York. My mother used to tell me my brother cried all the time, but that I was a great baby and rarely peeped. In retrospect, I think that was more out of shock and dismay than anything else. Frankly, I was stunned. The effects are still wearing off. I give them another 35-50 years to dissipate completely. We lived in a trailer park near Hamburg, NY. It happens. I'm still human, you know. Actually, I was very lucky. Our 55-footer was at the end of a row and had a field on one side and woods on another. Thus began my lifelong fascination with all creatures great and small. Not to mention finding the perfect spot for a picnic. I was an extremely cute little girl, but petrified of men in hats. Consequently, my father and his friends all wore hats. Almost all the time. Another little trauma to be dealt with. When I was five, my dad salvaged a bike for me and biking has become a lifelong hobby, not to mention a great way to get rock-hard calves. Although, to be honest, I'd rather have had a horse and rock-hard thighs, but that's another life, I figure. For some reason, I was one of Cloverbank Elementary School's resident hellion kindergartners. When I felt like it, which was most of the time, I got more attention than the teacher. My report cards bear tear-stained handwritten notes about my many alleged insecurities. Well, I figure if a trained professional teacher can't outgun a five-year-old in the entertainment department, she should seriously consider another career. Sadly, my days as a performer ended when my mother had my hair cut short (supposedly, because it was too hard to brush and I wouldn't take care of it). I suppose I felt emasculated. Not to mention really, really geeky. Sadly, my kindergarten days fortokened my future school life. Teachers either loved me or hated me. Coincidentally, the ones who hated me and humiliated me are virtually all dead. Don't read too much into that. Somewhere along the line, I became an avid reader and read books that were much too adult for me at far too young an age. Blame Charles Dickens for my warped perspectives on life. I also became interested in mysteries and science fiction. Ditto Agatha Christie and Arthur C. Clarke. This is all led, too, to my winning the sixth-grade spelling bee. I began writing as well. When I was 12ish, I wrote sports columns recounting Buffalo Sabres hockey games I'd heard on the radio. I also attempted a Doctor Who screenplay about the Cybermen. It featured the fourth Doctor and the Lalla Ward Romana, as well as a high level of humour. It also featured a disturbing lack of plot and thus died mercifully at only three or four pages. My writing career was aborted when my 10th-grade English teacher fell in love with a short story I'd written about an abused Native American boy and read it aloud to the class. The humiliation and scarring were complete. Some things just weren't meant to be shared. I didn't write for years after that. I performed in several school plays, which were the highlight of my school days. I did come to suspect, however, that I was chosen less for my talent and more for my ability to project my voice sans microphone. And the directors tended to snicker a lot during my auditions. Another highlight was a trip to Erie, PA for the Model United Nations. I represented Oman and gave an impassioned impromptu speech about something or other, eliciting a standing ovation. I also gave a speech on the Equal Rights Amendment to Kenmore High School and won an award for my fiery rabble-rousing. When I came back to my own high school, there was a banner with my name run across the side of the building congratulating me. It was a thing of beauty. Finally, I was a backup member of the "It's Academic" team. "It's Academic" was a local TV show wherein teams of geeks from area high schools competed against one another by answering esoteric questions about the sciences and arts -- a sort of high school Trivial Pursuit. It was the first of a handful of shots of me on TV. I am not photogenic. As for athletics, my one and only true talents were for target shooting -- archery and .22s. Fortunately, I never had the time to devote to perfecting either skill, plus I never wanted to learn how to clean the rifles afterwards. I can tell you that recently I have become handy with the single-action Schofield .45 and a double-barreled 20-gauge coach shotgun, although the shotgun's kick is ever-so-slightly greater than that of a .22. I duly graduated from Frontier Central Senior High School and headed for the University of Chicago, which I'd found by sticking a pin in "top schools" in one of those books -- this after the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service declined me, based primarily on the fact the snooty alumna who interviewed me sensed my trailer park origins. Well, that's my suspicion, anyway. The less said about my college days, the better. I graduated in four years (you ask anyone how easy that is to do at the U of C) with a proportional GPA. With a degree in English language and literature in hand, it suddenly dawned on me -- I didn't have anywhere to go the next Monday morning. I have never been particularly practical, and no one prepared me for this working in the real world thing. After a summer of telemarketing for the old Chicago City Ballet, I began a nearly 15-year career with Coopers & Lybrand L.L.P., now PricewaterhouseCoopers, first as a proofreader/editor, then as a communications consultant. We parted ways on 31 July 1998, and I’m now hard at work seeking a job that utilizes my writing, editing, production, and communications skills without leaving me brain dead -- that, and preparing my case for collecting unemployment until an opportunity comes along. In 1990, I began several years of volunteering at Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago. One of my responsibilities, by choice, is writing for, editing, and laying out The Ark, LPZ’s volunteer newsletter (http://www.lpzoo.com/ark). Even former director Lester E. Fisher, D.V.M., has confessed to liking the darn thing. I never learned to drive, which is probably why I'm still in Chicago. Chicago is flat, dirty, crowded, and loud -- everything I've always wanted in a home. I've been harassed, stalked, followed, burglarised, and groped by strangers in Chicago. I love it here. In fairness, Chicago has a million things to do, including two of my favourites -- the John G. Shedd Aquarium and Oceanarium and the Art Institute of Chicago. Don't miss them, or Lincoln Park Zoo, should you visit. Having had a poem published in the 80s, I wrote another one last year ("You") that was published by Women in the Arts in Spring Fantasy 1997. I think I may finally be getting over writer's block. Now if I could just get my stories published . . . or even finished. to be continued . . . Updated 11 August 1998 Obligatory ad: The above, along with many other of my special brand of raving, can be found at http://www.mindspring.com/~slywy. Visit early; visit often. It is Chicago, after all.