Panorama of San Bernardino

Saturday, April 25, 2020


One of my favorite songs by the Cure, while I love them all, is a song called “Catch”. The lyrics go like this:

Yeah I know who you remind me of
A girl I think I used to know
Yeah I'd see her when the day got colder
On those days when it felt like snow.
You know I even think that she stared like you
She used to just stand there and stare
And roll her eyes right up to heaven
And make like I just wasn't there.”
The words of Robert Smith made me mull on who I was pre-pandemic and who I am now. I have changed inside.

This whole coronavirus crisis has made me realize that at my core, my very core, I am: an artist, an actress, a (bad) singer, a poet and most of all, a writer. 
Life is so precious and so fleeting. We can spend it in a prison of our own making or we can sit the sun. We can lock ourselves in a room. Brood. Complain. Or we can use our imagination and travel to distant places using only our minds.
Luckily for me, my artistic medium of choice requires only the canvas of paper or a computer. I write to be heard. For someone to listen and care. Ultimately, I want to be liked by you all, loved even. That’s why music speaks to me so. All of my favorite singers are desperately romantic: Bowie, Robert Smith, Morrissey and of course, the crooner love song queen, Patsy Cline. 
People think just because one is melancholy that they are also not joyful and loving, but the most dark are also often the most full of light. I want to be that light filled and joyful girl I used to be. The one who thought good times would go on forever and that she was invincible. The one who existed pre father’s death and pre miscarriage and infertility, and pre pandemic.
But maybe, this new me is who I’m supposed to be. Dark, light, happy, sad and not artificial ever. True to herself and a daydream believer. Still an optimist but more realistic, knowing that life is short.
Oh it’s far too short. Too too fleeting. But it’s lovely too.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Dystopian Daze

It’s such a surreal time that it’s almost cliche to say so.

Dystopian is a good way to think of it. I had a conversation with a friend the other day. We were discussing about how one doesn’t really know when things are dystopian because I believe most of us are optimists. We all want things to get better and visualize them getting better to calm our anxiety.

For me, I saw the warning signs right before my San Antonio AWP conference in March. It was the calm before the storm and when I returned from Texas, I did a deep dive into coronavirus and saw the red flags. I spent a week writing an article and then boom, everything went ballistic.

Everyone was out and about and then, all of sudden, the world was on lockdown. My job moved to remote court work and for the next weeks, I worked on bail motions for my clients. Trying desperately to get as many people out that I could.

Now, it’s a bit of a comedown. Still dystopian yes, but I feel adrift. My highlight of today will be working and Skyping and a non-optional vet appointment. I wonder, when will court start in person again? When will my husband’s dental offices be allowed to reopen? And most importantly (I’m being facetious but not...), when can I go to Vegas again?

I’m thinking of my dad on a daily basis, along with praying every morning when I wake up for my mom, my husband and my mom in law, and for my dogs to stay well because they are my solace.

I miss my family. I want to see my sisters, my best friends, and my work colleagues. I want life to go back to normal, even if it’s a new normal.

In return, I pledge to appreciate every minute, and every moment, and to listen to the birds and feel the warmth of the sun. I promise to love my loved ones and be a kind and benevolent force in the world.

Most of all, I vow to use my platform and voice for the greater good and to never be intimidated to say what I feel. To trust my instincts. To get another tattoo.

And to listen to music and dance. Always.

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Wishing on a star

I always loved the Pinocchio cartoon and the idea of wishing on a star. The thought that our dreams and wishes have power is a compelling one to me.

There is so much sadness right now that I can barely write. I’ve been recording old stories on my new podcast. Memorializing my stories in a kind of audio file memorial to myself. See

I am feeling my mortality. Deeply. As our own Starman David Bowie said:

“Planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do.”

So where do I go now? How do I manage my sadness and grief? I have no idea my friends. I’m floundering losing myself in motion work for my incarcerated clients and trying to calm the quell of panic that is bubbling right beneath my surface.

My friend Jane died this week, she was an investigator for our office and had been publicly battling cancer. I wept knowing we can’t even have a funeral for her right now. That sweet soul deserves a funeral and to be celebrated.

But these are our times. Many tired souls will go without the rites and celebration they do deserve.

And, we will all just be here to bear witness.

My wish I suppose is that we all remember these times and when life returns, for surely this is not life right now, or at least not a good life, then we appreciate it and all live it to the fullest.

Life is fragile, especially right now. Stay well. I’m here. Stargazing.