ah, there it is

I haven't written in about a month. Well, that's not true. I have written tidbits here and there but nothing with any energy or daimon attached.

As soon as I finished class I picked up a book by Oscar Hijuelos. "A Simple Habana Melody" seemed perfect. The last few weeks I've been listening to couple of hours of latin jazz and classic salsa on Trinity University's radio station. It's actually replaced my church going (in a good way) and reminded me of my consistent love of music and its history and origins. It's good to get back to all this.

But I wondered why I haven't had this incredible desire to write and, to be honest with myself, I'm missing that regular expression of being in community with others and of being with someone. I don't think it's a bad thing that I like to write "in relation" with others - with their energy present even if I wish I was one of those broody writers who are alone for hours and sigh deeply while debating life's future. And they write magnificently (most).

I did find an incredible passage in Hijuelos' book, just as I'd found many that motivated me in "The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love". It spoke to my own lack of desire for creating art:

... there existed within him a numbness to feeling? This disheartened Levis (the central character), for without emotion there would never be music, and without music his life would be a living death.

So it happened that without intending to the composer sank into a deep state of apprehension... he could not imaginethe point of his continuing existence. In those moments, as he went driving through the streets of that splendid city [Havana], he truly believed that he would never compose another piece of music again - not a tango nor a bolero nor a lyric opera nor another zarzuela, not even another simple Habana melody - as he once often did with effortless control.

Israel Levis, returning from the concentration camps during WWII, to his native Habana, could not wake up that part of him that worked to create music.

I'm not being fatalistic (even if it sounds that way) but not being creative is the definition of not living (for me).

I'm working now to wake up that part of me.

sleeping

I have slept all week. I've not slept great but I have slept and I am so thankful for it. Of course, I did not write but you can't have it all!

I especially thankful for the sleep because my work has been increasingly demanding since I'm leaving the department for another. Add to that my child's recent expectant behavior (it is her birthday - that's her reasoning) and a test on Thursday and I had to give in to sleep.

So by 10 or 11 I've been the good girl and gone to bed.

I felt better this week, not just because of sleep but because I was able to tell a number of people what it was I really wanted in my life, what kind of people and how I couldn't feel less than totally free and so I couldn't conform to others ideas or expectations.

call for submissions

Some really great mujeres in the RGV are putting this together. Send your work!

Café Revolución Presents:Voices Against Violence! Zine

Second issue

Deadline: July 1, 2007

Voices Against Violence! Zine is accepting submissions for the second issue. Please send in your essays, poetry, personal accounts, artwork & photography to be included.

What is the Voices Against Violence! Zine? A small publication, chapbook style, with writings from people in the community who have been affected by domestic violence as well as survivors of domestic violence.

We encourage the public to submit because domestic abuse affects the community as a whole. The Voices Against Violence campaign, part of Café Revolución, is a series of events and workshops throughout the Rio Grande Valley that helps break the silence on domestic violence, encourage others to come forward and weave a collective consciousness in our community.

Send submissions & questions to:

noemi.mtz@gmail.com

horticulturelandia@gmail.com

For more information, scope out:

http://www.caferevolucion.org/

http://myspace.com/voicesagainst

La Lupe... a su manera

Every once in a while I come back to this blog with a reminder of La Lupe, that incredible singer who doesn't compare. She's part of the reason I started writing this blog - to remind myself of the powerful women around me, to remember that, like her, I can take in all the world around me and then throw it back out - as an artist, as a woman, as a crazy healer.

Who can forget her song "Que te pedi", a song every incredible breakup should have in its soundtrack:

hoy pides tu las estrellas y el sol
no soy un dios
asi como soy
yo te ofresco mi amor, no tengo mas
[you ask for the stars and the sun - i'm not a god - but as I am I offer my love - I don't have more]

pero que te pedi,
tu lo puedes al mundo decir,
que supieras que no hay en la vida otro amor
como mi amor.
[but what did I ask of you - you can tell the world that there is no love like my love]

Or her "La Tirana", which deconstructed men's views of women:

Segun tu punto de vista

yo soy la mala

vampiresa en tu novela

la gran tirana

[according to your point of view, I'm the wicked/bad one - the vampire in your novel, the great tyrant]

That song has defined my work in destroying expectations of femininity or, better yet, removing masculinist silencing.

PBS' Independent Lens series featured La Lupe recently in a documentary. I missed the only showing because I was in class. And when it was due to air again, my local PBS decided to do a fundraiser instead. I shouted to the tv "I'll give 10 bucks if you put La Lupe on right now!" but they didn't listen to me.

Everyone should check out the website about the show, though. I'm not kidding. La Lupe expresses the pent up rage and passion that so many women carry (or wish they carried) but have trouble releasing. I love La Lupe and, wherever she is right now, she knows it. Bella!

d - r - a - g - o - n days

I've have the song "dragon days" by alicia keys ruminating the last day or two. Probably because I made fast potential friends with this guy and now haven't talked to him. I tend to get people fired up and may have done this here too. Maybe that's why I stay away from some people sometimes. The soul woken up, brightened, is quickly noticeable to others and, as I learned from a curandera years ago, those things call out others. That calling out isn't always positive but can be expressed through jealousy, anger, corruption, mistrust.

I think I have to much fire in me, in my personality. If I was writing more I might process the flame out of me more easily. Instead, I have the lyrics in my head and they won't leave:

Like a desert needs water
I need you alot
So baby
Dragon days, I need to be saved
I'm missin you
In the day you drag on and on
Don't you wanna play?
D-R-A-G-O-N days
Got me D-R-A-G-G-O-N

Got to put my mind on other things.

I am happy to be leaving on time today. My boss didn't show today so the office was all mine. Cliffy's coming by today for dinner. Delhi has her guitar lesson. Tomorrow I'm going back to the Botero exhibit with Terri. My parent's are doing a cuban-style cookout (black beans and barbeque). It's Friday. I have a dry patch of skin on my left upper arm. I got new shoes. Okay.

mea culpa - refusing mimetic expectations of behavior... or, I've been a very bad girl

In my search for obscure texts to stimulate my writing, I came across the philosophy behind generative anthropology.

This ability to make meanings, this mimesis, makes us learn from others in order to remove that source of learning as a threat or to redefine that source. If that's the case, for philosophers working in generative anthropology, Western Culture might be seen as the ultimate example (i.e. "melting pot"), taking ideas from the individuals present, consuming them and regurgitating a new, clean version, sometimes without the persons present.

In some ways, in dealing with an issue with my daughter, I directly think of what my mother did and, adding some of my ideals and the feminist liberal thinking I brainwash into my daughter, inevitably do something near opposite my mother's example.

I love this idea, even if it seems to argue with itself - isn't activism a constant revolution in the mind, where we live in the world of dominance but end up tearing it away? I suppose I could go Audre Lorde here and say we cannot tear down the master's house with his tools, but there is something in Plato's idea that poets don't tell truths, they are guided by madness, inspiration (when we are lucky) - they reorganize mimetic ideas to retell, redefine what is viewed. Well, maybe he just didn't like poets - he did place philosophers as the highest ranking citizens. Hmmm.

I am saying all this, and its in my mind because I've been trying to write about the politics, around food sources, energy sources, individuals, etc - but hate that I always seem to write better when I'm getting laid. How high-minded is that? It's like I can't focus - my mind so busy I need something to just settle me down.

I have been reading the santeria stories of Oya. I'm still working on that play in poem form and came across one where Yemaya (orisha of the ocean, mother) tricked Oya (orisha of the cemetary, warrior, lover) into trading her the ocean for the cemetary. Oya, angry over being tricked, still ended up in charge of the winds, of abrupt change, of fire and earth and renewal.

I like staying in that space. It allows me to trick myself into writing and, if I fail and just get laid instead, it allows me to find the power through that doorway. No guilt here. Guilt implies conflict and, if I am creating, there is no conflict, only joy. Sheer, immense joy at accessing freedom.

blindness

I'm parking at Crossroads Park & Ride lately. The good: I'm saving gas - this is especially good since I recently saw an executive from one of the oil companies excusing every "presumption" the American consumer has about oil production and the reason for increasing gas prices. I was actually convinced for a moment - I was coaxed in by his answers that seemed to make sense. I mean, sure, why not dig deeper, open up Alaska more, for more opportunities? And of course he is for alternative fuel but he makes sense when he says that corn isn't the answer because it's a food source and that can go to people! I just don't feel qualified enough about the history around this but I need to be. It's ridiculous to me that I don't have the information I need to either really agree with him or be able to refute him.

The bad of the park and ride: having to wait for the ONE bus that comes every 1/2 hour of so that goes from UTSA (my current income source) to the park and ride. I'm not a patient woman so I work late to get to the bus stop 2 minutes before the bus is supposed to arrive only to have to wait 10 more minutes. I haven't been doing my yoga or breathing lately, or writing consistently! so, I have been a little ansy.

Another plus side: I've been reading books on the ride up and down to the University. I just finished Blindness by Jose Saramago. It took me a while to get into it, then I was completely engrossed and disgusted, then I didn't want to read any more of it, and then I was glad it was done. What turmoil! I need a light comedy after that book! The story goes that this white blindness takes over a country, leaving everyone without vision while the country stops production, falls into anarchy and its citizens become less and less human. It's a macabre work, almost as emotion producing as when you truly learn of destruction (9/11, Darfur) and see it. I haven't had a book affect me that way in awhile but alternative realities and science fiction have their base in truth and theory, in probable outcomes when looking at the world right now - and that is scary enough.

I think, as a writer, it's curious that the book shows a writer who, with blank paper and a ball point pen, manages to write his and his family's story, despite blindness, and likes ballpoint pens because he can feel where the marks are. It is also sad that he quietly dismisses his own story as not as valuable as that of the main narrator and the group of people she is saving because the narrator is the one person who can still see and, among her group, are those who were the first to be blinded.

More later. I'm still processing.

Freedom from Workplace Discrimination Act

S.A. State Rep files pro-gay bill in Texas House
from QSanAntonio

State Representative Mike Villarreal (D-San Antonio) filed a bill in the Texas Legislature on January 26 that would prohibit a wide range of discriminatory practices based on sexual orientation or gender identity or expression.

House Bill 900, the "Freedom from Workplace Discrimination Act," would ban discrimination based on one's actual or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity or expression. If passed, the law would provide for equal treatment in a variety of areas related to employment and the ability to live in a home or neighborhood of one's choice. The bill also provides a great opportunity to educate the public about the discriminatory environment and actions often faced by the GLBT community.

Villarreal, who represents District 123, has long been considered a friend to San Antonio’s GLBT community. The Stonewall Democrats of San Antonio honored him last September with an award for Political Advocacy. "Rep. Villarreal hopes he can count on the support of the community for this legislation," says Andrew Dupuy who serves on Villarreal’s staff as the liaison for GLBT bills. "This bill will require extensive support from citizens and community organizations to navigate the arduous legislative process. Action alerts and legislative updates sent to your members, and your organization's and members' letters, testimony, and phone calls -- all will make the difference in moving this bill through the legislative process."


Write a letter of thanks for Representative Villarreal at:

Capitol Office
Room CAP GN.10
P.O. Box 2910
Austin, TX 78768

Or, call him with your thanks: (512) 463-0532

Or, fax the letter to: (512) 463-7675

Or send him an email by using the email option on the House of Representatives website: http://www.house.state.tx.us/members/email.php?dist=123&rep=michael.villarreal

No matter how you say it, say thanks!

On a personal note:

I had a really hard time at my last job because of general stupidity regarding gender and sexual orientation issues. But the hard time I had was nothing compared to the experiences of others. It's about time queers in Texas could receive some comfort in their places of work. Far too many of us are working class (especially in Texas) and the idea of leaving a job, despite abuse, is an impossibility. Bills like this one will encourage queers to use their voice, knowing they have full support of the laws.

I remember sitting in front of the executive director and the operations manager and telling them that I felt that I couldn't say anything when a co-worker used anti-gay language in front of me (even if I did indeed tell her something) and the executive director stated that their employee manual offered protections based on sexual orientation. When I asked her to show me because I had reviewed the manual previously, she pointed out all the other protections and looked at sexual harassment then said "oh, well, we mean to offer it, even if it's not listed, we have good intentions here and don't mean to show disrespect." When I told her that Texas doesn't have such a protection, she turned that information to make it the answer I did not want - that she no longer had to deal with this and it was probably just a one-on-one situation - not an issue which would benefit all the staff in having the discussion. Nice.

mind meld

I must be trying to avoid something. I keep finding music to play, even adding a music component to this here blog.

My mind keeps trailing off to MFA programs. I need out of here!

I had a dream last night that the stuff I was writing was coming true. At one point, someone has me write a friend's name and they appear just like someone who is walking up to you.

I had a meeting this morning at the downtown campus - it was good to have a quiet start to the day - I didn't sleep but 2 hours and I am so feeling it. Thankfully too, I'm a big old procrastinator... I had a sweater, a jacket and a full coat in the car (I wonder what made me take out the gloves and scarf?). When I left from home this morning, it was cool, low 70s and a little humid (Exhibit A, my hair). Just as I was putting my keys to the old van after my meeting, this cold air started and the sky was gray and heavy. Thirty minutes later it was so cold I needed the big coat (and those gloves and scarf!).

I had lunch in the staff lounge room and turned on the television. When I realized no one was coming in, I changed it from CNN to Star Trek: Voyager. Gotta love Kate Mulgrew. Oh, and Jeri Ryan. And Roxann Dawson. I think I even had crushes on the men: Robert Beltran and Garrett Wang. Who wouldn't? Damn, I'd forgotten how sexy the cast of Voyager was. How could the show fail?

feeling sorry for myself

I'm still on the "woe is me" kick, but am realizing I'm doing it to myself. I told Cliffy I should be happy and I get scared of commitment so why am I all woeful over the pressure of being single and a parent... I only know that my brain takes me so far. All the rest is in my heart - the fear that there's no one there to really trust with my stuff, the dream of not having to struggle so hard as a single parent, of being supported with time set for my writing and other creative pursuits, of finding like-minded people to hang out with - because if they are artists, they don't get that I have to leave at 8 p.m. to put a little one to bed and because if they are mothers they don't always know the real drive to not just be creative but to produce work that will be viewed in my communities - it all makes me sad.

"Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river that carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire."
- Jorge Luis Borges

avoidance/unavoidance

Lordy, I've done really poorly at connecting with my friends. I'm not doing so well avoiding anyone either.

Work has gone from bad to worse. I remember thinking, after being there one month, that it seemed like each week was another rock thrown at me. Now, 7 months later, and I have a stockpile of rocks!

Dating is fruitless - maybe I'll talk about it later.

And I can't believe how much I'm looking forward to Tigrette going back to school - something about her schedule making me, potentially, write more consistently.

I'm hurting because I'm not writing consistently.

Montoya!

Well, I did it.
My face was flushed and puffy, my hands shaky, and my Word footer function not working. Still, I did it. I thought I'd sleep like a baby last night but I woke up throughout the night.

In some ways, I've really appreciated having this deadline because it let me focus on something besides Cliffy's cowardice and the fact that I still love her. Now, I don't know what my mind won't conceive of without some larger thing to concentrate on.

I have to thank Laura, Love Joy and Spenta for their great insight into my work. A special thanks to Laura for the coffee and lunch. Thanks to Krissy for hearing me. To Carole for her incredible assurances - how you hit the mark, girl! To Gloria for kicking my ass with her loud talking. And to V and L (those who are "Sweetness") for occupying some of my time. Thanks also to my mother for the copies made and for the quick trip to the post office.

a new year

it's been a few weeks since I've written anything.
it's actually been several weeks since I've felt like writing anything.

curiously, I moved into the apartment and ended up with a rash that usually shows up when I am stressed. true enough, work's been hell with changes. not intolerable but it's easily visible that lines are being drawn and friends help friends.

the rash finally gone I realized my writing was at a change and needed some time to come together again. I feel like I'm in the first few months of pregnancy, and am starting to feel the flutter like butterfly wings inside my center now.

this month of quiet has been unique, magic and calming:

tigrette's learning an incredible amount of sign language at school
and she can laugh about looking like a boy sometimes, especially now that her hair is even shorter, and sometimes, the way she looks at me, reminds me of a picture of my great great grandfather, a mulatto french man who moved to Cuba, with wild, kinky hair and intense eyes;
cliffy and I are coming together
and things like grocery shopping aren't chores so much as they are the opportunity to provide some softness to my family;
the apartment is all lived in already but still fresh, a real opportunity to grow;
we have a new hamster, puffy, who has the same boitel attitude all the rest of the family has;
I've strengthened my friendships, in some cases finding friends again, and claimed them as family.

there's a lot more but some moments of growth and change are so subtle, I would have no appropriate word to show the movement they provoked in me.

today is my birthday and cliffy gave me a gift last night that I didn't want to open until this morning. at 1 a.m. I couldn't sleep so I got up for some water and opened the present. you know, I've been accused of holding back on letting people see me. I didn't expect any present at all except a handmade card from Delhi and some great emails from friends.

a gift from cliffy was incredibly sweet and she chose these things that were so exactly right for me. it makes me feel good that she sees me. in particular, she bought me a cute red and purple ceramic heart with the word "create" on it. there I was, all crying, just holding that heart.

cliffy thinks I'm not writing because of work. I can't disagree with her but I do know that my writing is present, is with me - just quietly sleeping, a small group of petals promising an entire landscape.