So I'm just getting my act together ahead of speaking about the quakes at this conference in New Orleans in June, and BANG. It strikes. A 5.7 magnitude aftershock wallop loaded with enough aggression, power and surprise to knock a few bowls off the shelves, send the baked bean cans flying in the pantry and scare the life out of the cat. It's taken me months to get to the point where I was able to even look at quake images, or video footage. I was just getting to the point where I was able to think about forming coherent sentences around our professional story, what we've learned and how it's changed everything about our lives and businesses.
Now it feels like square 1 - back to not wanting to look, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to put myself back there. Frankly, not even wanting to get out of bed. And I don't think I'm the only one.
Even Mayor Liane Daziel said had not been proud to admit she screamed when the quake hit. There was something comforting about that. We're both quake-screamers, and I bet there are more out there just like it.
I think Liane is right when she talks about the element of surprise being the biggest blow of all: "I didn't expect to be shocked by an earthquake because I've gotten so used to them. This one came from nowhere. There was no warning, no low rumble...this one was just bang, a very sudden, sudden shock."
Kind of like that classic horror movie thing - cute kittens that turn into monsters and leap out at you when you least expect it.
I'm sure I'll be back to what passes as normal by June. But to lighten the mood in the meantime, please find below a cat video. And for some actually useful content related to communicating in a disaster-prone zone, check out