And then. . .

I am thankful for... 1.  My new dog Faustino who has warmed my heart towards pets again after saying goodbye to my beautiful Drew-b this year.  2. My husband who supports me through every crazy idea I have and won't mind that Faustino the dog came before him on this list.  3. My sister/mom who is/are a pain in the ass and likes to fight with but can't stay mad at me too long.  4. My uncle who texts me every morning to say good-morning even when he knows I'll be sleeping.  5. My lovely small  but close knit group of friends who don't let lapses in time and/or distance change our friendships.  6. My job. I worked very hard. It showed me that patience and my stubbornness paid off. I have felt a little lost this semester because I got so used to having a bone to chew on, but I will learn to have a new goal.  7. I'm thankful for goals.  8. My time off that I will use to brush the cobwebs off my writing brain....

Last night after a long [insert slew of obscenities here] day, I went to yoga. I almost didn't go. The warm comfort of pets, my home, and the couch seductively called to me as I sat in a sea of red lights and traffic. They were both so tempting that I almost escaped the highway three exits sooner, but I stayed strong. I gave myself a pep talk on the benefits of losing myself in my  Utkatasana's, Virabhadrasana II,   and  Savasana's.   As I sat in the car, repeating the benefits of attending, the day kept butting in and replaying itself like a short film on a loop. I spent most it angry and/or frustrated. When I was younger, anger always served as a fuel for me, but not as I've grown older it just drains me to the points of exhaustion. I am a shell of myself even as I smile and make small talk with the people around me. Today, in fact, I am shell. I am a browned husk floating around campus berating myself for losing my temper. At moments like these, I am tha...

I should be grading, but I don't want to. Outside, the sky is varying shades of grey. The clouds are a tightly, knit sewn quilt blanketing the city. This is odd for "The Sun City", but unlike most I enjoy chilly weather, rain, and what the clouds bring. I should be grading, but I keep ignoring the digital stack of papers. The semester is at week 10 and the students who are going to "get" it have already proven themselves. The "not taking this seriously" have disappeared like the mice who inhabited my office for the first month of the semester. I'm still not sure of the "I'm gonna buckle downs". I stay hopeful, but not too much, so it won't hurt as much when they too disappear. I should be grading, but the weekend is calling. Saturday is Halloween. I always love Halloween, but this year I have less zest in my pep. Yesterday, I suggested to my husband we dress up as Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love. We just need blond wigs. He said...

The last two weeks have been filled with weekend warrior type activity. We are remodeling our half bath. It all started with painting. I wanted to change the color to a bright yellow instead of the aged rose I had first painted it. Things happen when I get started on a project. The "things" that happen are, I often get carried away. I start thinking bigger and better and, and, and...I know this about myself. I just get so damned excited that my brain starts working a mile a minute and it wants to go. I get lofty ideas that in the end usually end up being amazing (well, if they didn't, this wouldn't keep happening. now, would it?) but mid-point I question myself. It often takes until the mid-point for this to happen. For the husband, he questions me almost immediately, mostly because he knows he will have to help me. He wants to catch my balloon head with its lofty ideas by the string before I float off too far and suddenly my idea is the size of the Good Year Blim...

Sopita is a really simple food. It can be found in most ethnic food aisles. Small dry pasta shaped like letritas, semillas de melon, and conchitas, When I was younger, I could never cook it correctly. It always came out under cooked or overcooked, salty or flavorless. Now, I can cook it with minimal effort. I throw onions in a pan and saute it until most of the pieces turn a golden brown. While it's browning, I open a short can of tomato sauce, so it's ready to pour in. I learned to do this after burning the small alphabet and onion pieces so dark I had to thrown them away. It had been a long day, and my last bag of sopita. Sopita is a simple food. My husband doesn't like it. The one time I did make it, as a side to a thin sirloin steak topped with chile, tomate, and cebolla, he looked at the plate oddly. I didn't understand. Now, I rarely make it. Usually, I only cook it when I know that we are having separate dinners. My favorite meal is picadillo con sopita. I mix ...

I like lists. I make them to have the satisfaction of crossing things off once I've completed the task. The lists range from simple tasks like "go to grocery store" to "finish story". I write things down, I have an app called Color Note, which has fallen by the wayside for good old paper and pen, and I have specialized lists for things like the grocery store. Lists make my life complete, at least I think. For the past month, on my list there has been "post on blog" and each time I think, "I'll do it right now." In this case a list has not helped me. The sad part about it is, that I've missed my posts. I miss my inner Carrie Bradshaw voice talking and mussing about things. So the questions is, why haven't I made time? 1. I had family in from Colombia for three weeks. 2. I took a vacation to Phoenix. 3. I got new wonderful job I'm elated to have. 4. I've been trying to work on my chapbook a (tiny) moment in time and r...

Last week, I visited a class to speak about some of my writing, the process, and The Danger of a Single Story . I was asked many wonderful questions about my work and also about books I've read that kept in line with the idea of standing up for oneself. The normal thing that always happens when I'm asked this question is my mind goes blank. All the titles of wonderful books I've read disappear as quickly as my dog, Sami, eats her meals. So, below I've put together a list of books I think are important. I will probably stray from the topic, (I apologize in advance, Rich)  but I will give it my best. Brave New World  by Aldous Huxley  I can't remember how old I was when I read this book, but I was definitely in my 20's, (I think) and I was blown away, by not just the writing, but the idea. For a length of time in my life, I was obsessed with Utopian society books. Huxley seemed to capture something not as dark as Orwell's   1984   or Rand's...