Talking with myself

Even though I get the numbers, and know people are reading my rants, it's weird because I still feel as if I am talking to myself. But I suppose if I was talking to myself live, and not on the page, people might worry. But I talk to my dog all the time, and even do his voice to answer myself back, so be afraid, be very afraid. 

Saturday was a joy filled day. I did an event at the Upland Library with the band Refrigerator. I can't describe their music well. It's too eclectic and defies genre. But they're frigging rad. I love the lead singer Allen's voice and their lyrics about the Inland Empire intersect nicely with my stories. Plus the rest of the band, Dennis (guitar), Mark (guitar), Daniel (stand up bass) and Chris (drums) just inspire me so. 

I met the band through Mark (of Pelekenesis) and Dennis (of Shrimper Records) who together own Bamboo Dart Press, who published my first book. They're both fabulous writers, and musicians, and they made my book dream true. I can't tell you how indebted to them I am. 

So Saturday defied my expectations. I always kick myself the day of an event. It's a lot at times. A lot of pressure. Why do I make my life hard and stress myself out? Why don't I just take it easy and play Yahtzee all day? I know the answer already, it's not in my nature. So I was there. The band was there. The plan was to have the band play a song, and then another song, then I would read a story, and then a couple more songs, then I would read another story, and so on. 

It was so amazing. The guys' songs were beautiful. They lingered in the air. Then I would read. It was pretty seamless. Then at the end, the band surprised me with a version of one of my social protest/justice poems in song form! I really can't capture it. I was just so overwhelmed with happiness. 

Joy is a hard thing to capture in words. Yet, I can say that when the band sang, I knew every word and sang along in my head. I was singing inside. My whole body was humming along. 

And when they played their song Colton, their words almost made me cry. Because who writes about Colton but us? Who else really and truly writes about and sees us Inland Empire grown up now but once latch key carrying kids from the 1970s and 1980s? 

We do. We write about it. Yes we do. 

"We can paint this town damn gray
We can count the ghosts on parade
We can hold our hands in the dark
Outside of Colton
Outside of Colton
Drunk and forgotten"

From Refrigerator's song Colton

Saying yes

I say yes to a lot of stuff. It's definitely harder for me (being a people pleaser) to say no but I'm learning because sometimes you have to. You have to learn to say no, so that when you do say yes, it's meaningful and intentional. You have to make the opportunities count. 

But saying yes brings the most blessings. It does. It can bring struggles and challenges, but usually the "yes" creates amazing experiences that you will never forget. And the "yes" will lead to more opportunities. Doors will open that you thought were locked. You had knocked on them for so very long. And then, the doors swing open as if by magic.

When I said yes to my vodcast all those years ago, it was on a whim. My friend from childhood, who was a radio show host, was starting a vodcast company and was looking for talent. She thought I might be able to do it. So I said yes. I tried. And guess what? I found a talent I never knew I had for performing and interviewing. Turns out, I'm kind of a theater kid. I was almost 49 when I realized this! How had I not discovered this? I always knew I was a ham, just ask my husband. He says it's my world and we're all just living in it. Truth. 

Then my MFA. It wasn't easy to decide to take it on while working full-time, but I decided to turn down my brick and mortar funded offer (which would require me to quit my job and lose my pension) and I found an online, very part time program at University of New Orleans that worked for me. So I said yes, but only to what was practical for me at the time. I'm a pragmatist at my core. Ask anyone. Even in practicing law, I'm always thinking, how do I get what I want for my client in the most pragmatic way? In theory, and in my writing, I am an idealist but in practice, I'm a realist. 

Then, what about events? I say yes to those too. My friend asked me to perform with his epic band at a library. Yes, it made me anxious. My knees were knocking just to imagine such a scary event where I would be on display and what if I couldn't perform up to the level I needed to? But then, I said frack it! Why not try? And then I prepared and prepared and I consulted and listened to their set list and put my reading list together and thought, okay, this will work!

There's more to talk about, but I think I will leave those thoughts and experiences for a second blog. But for now, I would urge you to say yes!

Desert music daze

Yesterday, we headed out to Joshua Tree to see Gary Numan at Pappy and Harriet's. But before the show, we decided to try out La Copine in Yucca Valley. We had heard people rave. We had read the magazine articles. Plus, I had a hard to get reservation. But first, I made Adrian stop at a vinyl and clothing antique store, where I found a leopard vintage caftan (swoon!) on sale and little copper and silver pot hanging earrings.

We got to La Copine and the first thing I noticed was the asthetic. It had a very cool vibe. And yes, it was very Joshua Tree in the amount of hipsters with multiple tables of boho attired groups of twenty somethings. Sun glass wearing, fringed hair with fringe jackets and cowboy boots (I am being a bit of a hypocrite wearing suede fringe boots myself). A lot of beards. A lot of faux fur (again, I brought a black and white striped faux fur, so I fit in just fine, but I added some edge with black pants and a replacements tee which I got two compliments on). 

The food and service were impeccable. I had a champagne cocktail with bitters and sugar and the steak skewer with papas with green onions. For desert, we shared a fig panna cotta that (for me as a salty perferring person) had the perfect smattering of salt. 

We checked into our hotel, which was next door to Pappy's and Harriet's. It's a little frontier hotel like place that's now hideously expensive, but worth the convenience. Plus, there's no TV, just a backgammon and checkers set and a small fridge. We got the "Annie Oakley" (every room is named after an old time Western star) and brought take out Mexican food to the room while listening to the industrial sounds of the opening band Front Line Assembly. 

We walked over to the concert and Gary Numan went on almost immediately. It was so loud I had to put my fingers in my ears. To save my hearing, I moved from the front of the stage to the back. The energy was infectious and the music was hard and industrial all the way and Gary did not disappoint. I rocked out and sipped a beer. We left before the show ended up and sipped a drink on the porch while the band played the last few songs. 

When I woke up, I listened to the birds chirping outside and grabbed a coffee from the canteen. Then I wrote this blog. 

Something writing this way comes

Today is Friday and I'm on my second espresso waiting for my black dress to dry for court. It's been a hectic work week. Yesterday was super hectic, so much so that I ate the delicious dinner my husband made and went straight to bed when I got home last night.

Tomorrow night, we are seeing Gary Numan perform in Joshua Tree/Pioneertown. It's gonna be cold so I will wear jeans with thermals under and my faux fur coat and gloves!

Life goes by so fast in your fifties. It speeds by like I'm in a race car. I barely have time to catch my breath. What with work, my writing/performing and my podcast and school, I'm always busy with something. Always working or planning. But my goal this weekend is to be present and relax. 

The question is, when I will find time to write my next book? It's there. Percolating. I can feel it. 

Yes, I have a few short chapters but they need to be drawn out. I need time. It's not that I don't write. I write every day.  I write this blog and for class and an essay here and there, but a long form project is different. It requires concerted effort and concentrations of time. It requires just sitting there at your writing desk until it comes. 

So hopefully soon, something writing this way will come. I will ask the universe to help me. To push me and make me push myself into that chair, to sit my butt down and just write.

Mantz girl

I'm rewatching the Gilmore Girls for the umpteenth time. It's relaxing to me. Like eating comfort food, it makes me feel peaceful. I like to listen to it in the background as I do my homework after a long day of work.

Yesterday, I spent my Easter writing an annotated bibliography for my Shakespeare class. I had no idea how much work it was. I had the research, but doing the citations and summarizing the ten articles I had pulled basically took me all day. I also watched Macbeth, directed by Joel Coen starring Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand. It is such a striking film. The witches are part human and part bird and are eerie, creepy creatures portrayed as triplets speaking in a Gollum like voice. The movie is in black and white and the film is stark and the asthetic is bare, but it emotes. It moves. It's powerful. 

The quest for "power" is not something I've ever been interested in. I certainly never contemplated summoning the spirits as Lady Macbeth does. But what really resonated with me is how femininity is portrayed in Macbeth. Why are the soothsaying three weird witch sisters so terrifying? Is it femaleness turned on its head? The idea of a premonition is one that I do believe in. But I also believe that to open those portals is a dangerous thing to engage in. 

Knowing what is to come would be helpful, but it's not needed and can be a curse not a blessing. The beauty of life may be in the unknowing.  

Instead, I tell myself to be patient. I don't need to know the future. All is well. Plus, I just want to be happy and sit here with Chewbacca surrounding myself with light. Tonight, I will burn my white candles and dance and sing and as Joni Mitchell herself warbled, "put some flowers round my room". 

With the Gilmore Girls in the background (of course).

Be still the heart

We just had a huge scare. My shih tzu Chewbacca, who is a spoiled 15 year old fur monster, started not feeling well last week. He has a very severe heart condition so we thought that was the issue. He was shivering and had a fever. I slept with him downstairs on the futon and cuddled him. Chewie whimpered in his sleep. 

After two days, I decided I have to take him in. His vet recently moved his practice to Santa Monica but he is in Glendora on Tuesdays. Because I couldn't reach him, I decided to try the emergency vet. 

Adrian drove me to the emergency. Chewie shivered and cried little yelps the whole way. When we got there, I advised them of his heart condition and they said his breathing was labored and they were going to get the oxygen tent ready. I said okay and put down a hefty deposit. Then they said they needed X-Rays and were going to an IV of Lasix to treat his heart.

The "beginning" estimate was a thousand dollars and they said they were going to keep him there over night and I could come back later. Something told me to leave. I just didn't feel right leaving him there. Plus, Adrian had said he thought it was an infection. Despite their warnings, I went with my gut  and checked Chewie out against their advice. Basically, I ran out of there with Chewie in my arms after paying their hefty exam fee.

The next morning, I took him to see his long time vet. It turns out, Adrian was right. It was an infection, a severe urinary tract one. After taking the liquid antibiotics, Chewbacca apparently perked up immediately. It was as if he had escaped death's door. My vet allowed to do a drop off before work And when I picked him up, I knew he was going to be okay.

So be still my heart, Chewbacca lives on. It's a happy ending to this story my friends. 

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Asleep

Life is poignant. Things are going good and then of course, a hiccup. Chewbacca is struggling health wise again and I am struggling emotionally. Where do I go from here? How do I know when to let him go? I'm selfish I admit. I love him very much.  

But I don't want Chewie to be in pain or watch him suffer. He's fifteen years old. He's been spoiled, snuggled and loved beyond measure his whole life. I'm happy we have had him this long. He adds a lot of joy to my life. When I come home and see his fluffy face and his tongue hanging out, and he runs up to me, it makes me happy no matter how bad my day's been. 

They say dogs teach us how to grieve because their life spans are shorter than ours. Losing Frodo was hard, but I know losing Chewbacca will be unbearably harder. It will be like losing a piece of myself. But I just hope I'm strong enough to make the right decision when it's time. 

I have to take Chewie to the groomer today and should get him up. He looks so peaceful as he snores and I don't want to wake up him yet. So I pat his head, kiss his little brown nose and watch him sleep.