I love Valentines day. I love the hearts and the pink things and all the romance. I tried for a little while to not like it, but it is just a holiday I love. I always hear guys saying, “It’s a Hallmark holiday, blah blah blah.” But why would you not want a designated day that you get to show the one you adore that you love them. Why would you not want to do that collectively? That’s what’s nice about holidays that most of your community celebrates, celebrating together. I’m going to celebrate it this year, just like I have been because it makes me smile. Maybe I’ll even plan an art date with myself for Valentines Day. If I do, I’ll try my best to share my day with you guys.
Playdoh with my daughters was fun tonight. My youngest got playdoh for Christmas. She was excited to play with it. I played with her so we could have some time together and then my oldest joined in. Something about playdoh with the kids that makes me feel like a good mom.
Even with all the extra snuggles, I haven’t been feeling like the best mom since I’ve gotten sick but tonight has been real nice. We listened to music while making playdoh pizzas and cookies sitting at the dinning room table.
We all used our imaginations in our very own worlds together. Together but separate. My natural instinct is to compare us playing with playdoh together, with writing. The only way I can compare the two, is that both require imagination and an invitation to pretend together.
Today I watched a cold case that got solved 27 years later. The technology we have today to identify DNA helped confirm the killer. The killer wrote a book about how he was a changed man and stopped committing crimes. There was no rhyme or reason to why he chose the couple he chose. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. While watching, I was snuggled up with my husband trying to escape from feeling like shit. It worked. Anything to distract from the pains of covid is welcomed in my opinion.
It’s crazy how you never know when your last day will be. But it’s also motivating. Think about your values and honor them while you can. My family is one of my top values so the little bouts of energy that I get, I share with them right now. I’m not saying this to invoke living in fear. I won’t live in fear. I say this because sometimes I need to remember that tomorrow isn’t promised so I can intentionally honor my values, love myself, and love my loved ones.
A memento mori is what they call it.
Today I got a good chunk of editing done. There’s still some scenes that could flow better timewise. And some confusing parts I have to bring order to, but it felt good to have a good editing session. It’s scary writing a novel. It’s an adventure for sure. I’m feeling a little discouraged with the amount of time it has taken to get this thing done and I definitely don’t have the same energy for it as when I first started writing it. But today I had some decent energy for it. And it felt good.
Anie-Ma has reached a point in her mentoring where she has to decide whether to listen to someone else’s idea of what teaching should look like verses what she wants teaching to look like. She doesn’t stick to her own style and has a great deal of regret afterwards.
Maybe I got so much editing done because this part of the book is something I can relate to. Or maybe it’s because I’m finally getting my energy back. Anyways sometimes writing feels really good.
I don’t know what it is about being sick but I’m so emotional lately. I cry watching every movie and documentary. It’s nice to have feelings. It’s nice to not be numb but wowzer. lol
When I first got the covid I was battling some negative thoughts. More like discouraging thoughts like feeling like I’m never going to accomplish anything or make my family proud.
I knew those thoughts weren’t true and it took me some firm words of affirmation to get through it. It is discouraging getting sick. As a mom of a young one, I feel like I’m always sick. And when I’m sick again, I just feel like I lose handle on all the things I need to get done for everything I’m managing. This is where the negative thoughts come from. But I’ve accepted that I need to rest and focus on getting better and taking care of myself. It’s important to me that we allow ourselves as human beings, to be cared for.
So with my emotions running wild and my negative thoughts under control, I want to remind you that you are more than just a buggy meatsack. You are so worthy of all 2022 has to offer you. You are worthy even when you’re so sick you can barely move. Taking care of yourself in a world that works you to the bone is a brave act. Rest like your life depends on it, because it does. 2022 needs all those gifts you have to offer.
I’m going into the new year so sick. There’s a lot of us sick out here so I know I’m not alone, but this is rough. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be feeling better.
Here’s an old poem of mine called Love Song
I admire his persistence
and oh, how his howling soothes
like the thumping inside her womb
those vibrating drums birthed from her mouth
I admire his persistence
how her beats stretch across his howl
The night twinkles
bare, bare, bare, with dull blood
Dance in her womb, crawl on your knees, eyes shut
A mighty hand guides you to the unknown
It’s a new year. So what if it’s going to be the same ole shit, take some time to enjoy yourself a little bit. Whatever that looks like for you. A night off of cleaning, binge your fav show, a glance at the stars, anything.
The new year celebration doesn’t have rules. We can make it up. My household is sick. I’m feeling pretty bad so I’ve spent the day resting and finishing up Handmaid’s Tale.
We have people to live for. I think that’s something worth taking into account during our silly little celebrations.
We all have our spaces where we are most productive. It’s interesting, some people can’t get any work done at home. And others could never imagine getting their work done in a busy coffee shop. We all work best in our own way, doing our own thing.
I prefer to work in coffee shops and libraries. But I need to be able to have a snack and a drink nearby while I type. I’ve heard some others don’t allow themselves a snack until they finish their writing. I personally need more encouragement than that to keep going.
I’m always interested in other writers routines and spaces. I don’t have much of a writing space these days. I write where ever I can find the space because it’s usually a desperate attempt to get it all out before 12am. Getting it done before 12 is my only rule. I mean there’s gotta be some pressure, right? Here’ some other writers and their writing processes.
EB White wrote in his living room and disliked writing with music playing in the background.
Ernest Hemmingway wrote first thing in the morning when it was a cool temperature and appreciated warming up while he wrote.
Maya Angelou got herself hotel rooms and brough cards and crosswords to occupy what she called her little mind so her big mind could work on the deep concepts she wanted to write about.
It’s so wild how we all operate in our own creative spaces.
What is your routine? Do you relate to any of these routines?
We are all in this together. Every single one of us is battling covid, and shut downs and the mass shootings in our own home towns and even more broadcasted on television. It really bothers me but even more so right now, when one human being can belittle another while we are all clearly struggling right now. It’s extremely hard for me not to react.
Where is your grace?
It’s been proven time and time again that humans who are consistently under great amounts of stress are less likely to make the sound choices -the same sound choices they make when they are not burdened. We’ve learned that fear based programming doesn’t teach the individual in an internal manner but more of a programmed manor. Which means they are not acting out of consciousness, they are acting out of fear. We’ve also learned that those in poverty are at higher risk to a multitude of negative circumstances.
Why? Why are those in poverty considered at risk?
Now some people who grew up in poverty, and made their way out, might look down on their peers and wonder, why are they stuck there? I know because I was one of those people. When I got to college, I began to ask myself what was it that propelled me forward. What made me different from those who were willing stay put in that paycheck to paycheck (or less) lifestyle. At the surface there was a quick and easy answer. I was ambitious and so it would be my duty to make them more ambitious so they can be liberated.
But I quickly realized, ambition wasn’t the problem. Being liberated from poverty was never the problem. They did everything they were supposed to be doing as parents and workers and humans who wanted to taste all that life as they knew it, had to offer.
What was I missing then? Why weren’t they liberated and living life to the fullest and making better choices, healthy choices, spiritual choices?
Oppression is a subtle but eroding problem that wore our grand parents and great grandparents down and then they passed it down to our parents. They passed down their lumpy carpets, hushed voices, and respect for the elders who raped them. They passed down their solving emotional problems with a good meal and a drunk night out with friends. They passed down their hunched backs and overworked minds for one more paycheck to keep buying shit the don’t want, use, or need.
We are not taking any of those things. We don’t them and we’re changing our ways so that we can get rid of them. And you know what, we’re working our asses off to not pass down these generational behaviors.
And so when I hear someone trash talk our oppressed communities, I want to scream. I want to bring them through the hell we’ve gone through and our parents went through and our great grandparents. And I want to sit them down and drag them through all the subtle forms of oppression we’ve endured.
But then I realize, that the toxic words, the belittling of the oppressed is exactly what comes from the mouths of oppressed individuals. And they probably have already endured hell. And my best option isn’t to do to them what was done to us. My best option is to focus on my vision, freedom from oppression. Oppressing them is not going to free them from themselves.
It takes me so much work to figure things out but once I get it, I get it After that, I either lose interest or continue to work on the problem. Some problems, I can’t solve over night, those are hard for me but I press on.
So when it comes to writing and getting to the point, the trouble is I have so many points I’m trying to make, and I worry if I don’t include one, I’ll lose a chance to make a difference. Then again, if I include too many then they lose their power. This entire process is choosing which battle I’m willing to accept for now and which one will I accept at a later date.
For most of my work though, I’m battling oppression. For A Triptych, I’m battling the “elders” (though elders are never mentioned). It’s more of a rebuilding of ancient ways. Or maybe just questioning them.
It’s exciting to think about it.