And then. . .

I wanted to write this post earlier in the week, but I got caught up in other things. I think perhaps it was better because the feeling I was left with after the two day music extravaganza was a mixed bag. Now that it's simmered and I've had some time to reflect I think I may have the right balance. The right words. I love music. Every part of live music. The anticipation before seeing a band you love. The drive over. The chatter in the car on the way to the venue. Walking over. The buzz in the crowd. Everyone is amped  to see --insert band name here--. Standing in lines for beer. Getting a little pushed and shoved as you try to get a viewpoint of the stage. The heat as people squish together a bit and sing off tune to their favorite song. I love that. I love the live experience of music. There are people who get this and people who don't. If you don't get this at all don't read on. I had all of this on Saturday at Neon Desert. I was amped. I was happy as I wal...

Javier Solis was born September 1, 1931 four months before my grandma. He dropped out of school after the fifth grade. My grandma dropped out of school after the eighth grade. They both held various jobs. Javier—I feel I can call him this because we are intimately acquainted, at least vocally—was a baker, a carpenter’s helper, and a car washer. He even trained to be a boxer but stopped after a few defeats and persuading. My Ita worked as an elevator operator, ticket taker, in a textile fabric factory, and a bartender among other things. His first hit, “ Lloraras ” was a favorite of hers, but she also liked to change the words to the song and sang, “ Choraras, Choraras mi partida… ” when she wanted to be funny. I think she choraras as much as she lloraras in her life. He sang and acted. She watched all of his movies and owned all of his records, then cassettes, and later CD’s. He was considered the last of Los Tres Gallos Mexicanos along with Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete, oth...

I want to lie in bed for a few days and curl into the sheets until they become arms who embrace me as I sleep.  I want to sleep in until 9am, stretch in the sunlight streaming in through my bedroom window, and just stare with blurry vision at imagined dust motes.  I want to read voraciously,  the way I did when I was younger. I'd read through the night and force myself to shut the dog-eared pages when the sky night broke into indigo.  I want to curl into his arms, not because I'm tired, but because I can't help but breathe in the smell of his his hair even when it's ripe with the scent of last night's run.  I want to write until my book is finished, until the pages I've clung to for the last year finish their fight for freedom and I've nothing left but to begin again with something new.  I want to....

In my previous life, I worked for a giant retailer.  While working there I learned words like company culture, we stand for, we do this here, we wear smiles, goals, LY, TY, lead by example, etc. While working for this company many things happened: I became a "we" and not an "I"  I lost sight of what was truly important I didn't know what free times was I didn't see my family, ever I didn't, I didn't , I didn't To this day, and I say over and over, the best decision I ever made was leaving the corporate world. I still remember the flash of when I suddenly snapped out of it and "put down the Kool-Aid" as we commonly used to say about those who suddenly left the company or realized there was more to life. I sat at our monthly rally, a small sea of carefully coiffed, shined, scented, powdered, pressed people surrounded me. There was a slump in the economy and customers weren't so willing to pull out their black American Express ...

I had never heard of the Writing Process Blog Tour until Lacy Mayberry, writer, friend, and fellow BorderSenses member tagged me in it. (She asked first.) I read the post on her blog (check it out here)  The Hurl and Gliding  about a week ago, because I wasn't certain what I was supposed to write. I read about her process and wondered, what the hell is my process? I've never put much thought into my process, so it took me a moment to consider what my habits and quirks were. So, here it goes. What am I working on? Nothing and everything. I'm trying to finish my memoir, Por Un Amor,  which consists of several short stories, poems, and flash fiction about my grandmother. My goal it to finish soon. I keep putting off the finishing date, partly because life keeps getting in the way and partly because the book has become a part of me. I have two to three pieces I want to add then I'm done. Many of the pieces have been published recently, so I think it's time. I like to...

1. Priorities change as you get older. 2. Family is important and although I tell myself not to take them for granted I sometimes still do, but what's important is I try. 3. Make plans, lots of plans all the time to give yourself something to laugh about later. 4. One good drink is better than ten bad ones. 5. Beer can be good. Bud Light is not one of those beers. Ever. 6.  BFF's are the ones that change/grow with you. Not every person who was a BFF will stay one. That's okay too; you were in each others lives when you needed to be. 7. Smart beats hot. Every time. 8. Being around negative people is like licking a sick person's hand. It's contagious. Stay away. 9. Patience. Patience. Patience. (I'm still learning that one). 10. Life can continue without that MarcKheil'sChanelSevenChantelleDior thing. It can. Really. 11. If you can't have a conversation. Take the hint. 12. It's okay to cry. A lot. 13. Music. Music that you love that you fee...

The last few weeks I've been thinking a lot about getting older. This year for some reason I forgot I had a birthday. My mind just skipped over it; kind of like forgetting the milk when you go to the grocery store. But, the last couple weeks several things have happened which have reminded me that I am in fact getting older, and although there is nothing I can do about it, it's been naner- naner haw hawing in my face. (I think age is a bitchy girl who was once pretty and turned into an old hag and wants to make the rest of us miserable.) What's been bogging you down you ask? Well, last week I found a friend from high school passed away. I had not spoken to Javier in a while, but there was a moment my senior year in high school where he and I were part of a happy foursome--with Vanessa and Collete--and we were inseparable. He passed away suddenly, and Facebook and texts were flying trying to figure out what happened. I think many people thought it was just gossip, "O...