Much to my chagrin.
I’m overdue for at least two reviews, two dream recollections, and 9 blogs. But with limited time, work restrictions(Big Brother watching), and no computer at home, I don’t have many options. There are the public libraries but I don’t want to bare my soul next to the middle school kid next to me. There is my mom’s house but it’s a crowded place these days. Besides, I remember all too clearly all those MySpace induced moments of anxiety, sitting in my childhood bedroom before that monitor. There’s Kinko’s(yet another location I associate with attacks of nerves, butterflies, and nausea) but do I really want to pay to write?
I should get a laptop. Writing is a good outlet. I am pleased to have a growing audience. But there are bills to be paid, hours to maximize, and a tummy ache I can’t ignore.
Monday was never my favorite.
done Thursday night on my way to SF, edited today
Dirty train window. Sad song about fear and love, “Gypsy.” Not as sad as before.
City. Orange fireball. White smoke stretching up like cobras dancing out of basket. Oakland trees. Me all great hair and glossy lips.
Then the song that used to make me sob, “Sara.” About the end of love and hope.
But neither is dead.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Mucho amor to my homie in Northern Europa. My blog link is listed among some greats including Ana Castillo and Luis J. Rodriguez!
I am humbled(and thrilled) to be in such company.
The third time best be the charm. I have tried unsuccessfully to post a blog only to have it disappear into cyberspace twice.
My new toy,my Blackberry,is not ideal for writing. I suppose I should be glad since wasting time online is an urge I have targeted in DBT.
Still it is frustrating as I don’t have the time or technology to write as much as I’d like.
Hola para Mexico. Guten Tag for those in Germany. And everyone else logging on from San Diego, Yuba City, Oklahoma, and anywhere else in the US and Cali. I’m humbled by your visit and hope I can live up to your expectations.
My therapist prompted me to rethink my blog. She asked me if I would consider stopping. She is concerned that it serves as a message in a bottle, another way to reach out(perhaps too desperately) to the world and those in it I wish would embrace me. So I sat and thought. Images of Job sitting shiva, seated in an ash heap, waiting in silence.
I decided to keep writing. Because as the wise old women who speak to Esperanza towards the conclusion of The House on Mango Street, it will keep me free.
In recent weeks, I haven’t blogged. I have kept a tape recorder at my bedside or carried it with me and used that to record dream recollections and other thoughts. Transcriptions of recordings will now be posted and include dates.
I’ll be back soon.
I’m regaining my strength.