And then. . .

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about perfection. I've been thinking about our desire to strive for it, my desire to strive for it, even though I know I'm far from it. I think about the things I have done wrong, (I know it's wrong to dwell in the past) the friends I have hurt, the times I drank too much [insert alcohol here], the times I miss spoke, the times I was rude, lost my temper, yelled.... The list goes on.  But, here's the thing, I know I am not perfect. So, why does my brain strive for 90° angles and coordinating colors? Why does it think of how else to improve the space in my office, the color of the walls in my home, the words in this line... I want to use psychology and blame my mother, but I know the only person who is hard on me is me.  This past weekend, as I sat with my lovely friend Sarah, she said, "I'm not worried about anyone putting pressure on you. I'm worried about you putting pressure on you."  I opened my mouth ...

I had an odd morning today. I went to a translation appointment for a job I forgot I had. In El Paso, most people can get by with a little of either Spanish of English, it's hard not to, those who don't, well, I think they're just lazy, but...I'm drifting. I got a call yesterday to translate what I thought was a doctor's appointment. I didn't want to. I declined forgetting they had my info. "Please!" the woman on the other line pleaded, "There's no one else who can do it". I begrudgingly agreed. Although anyone who knows me, knows my Spanish is hit or miss. Shhh... don't tell them. So, this morning I got up and let GPS lead me to a house in the lower valley off Delta. I was confused. The only other time I had taken an appointment, it had been at a doctor's office. I stayed in my car and called the number provided. I was, in fact, there to help a home insurance adjuster with a roof claim. SHIT!  My mind scrambled to think of...

My great friend and unofficial editor gave me The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr a couple months ago. In reading it, I found a quote I immediately liked and felt as if she was speaking directly to me. “No matter how self-aware you are, memoir wrenches at your insides precisely because it makes you battle without very self—your neat analyses and tidy excuses.”   No truer words have ever been spoken. It’s been three years since I really began to focus on Por Un Amor and each time I think I’m done there are more questions than answers. I think a part of me wants to be done because I’m tired of having my insides wretched, or to be honest, maybe there are aspects that haven’t been wretched enough. In a novel where I want to focus on my Ita, there is a light that inevitably wants to shine on me because I am as much a character as she. I am just as important even though I want to stay backstage and let her bask in the limelight. I have to learn to be in the light and also be the stage hand...

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...