330 again and again

So I'm up. It's 330 am. Again. 

Chewbacca had been doing okay until the fires which have really exacerbated his breathing issues So the last few nights have been very difficult to say the least. 

Yesterday, I had court and a big motion due. Chewbacca had kept me up all night. I slept a couple of hours max and when I left for work, he was doing better and was dozing quietly. As I walked out the door, I looked at him and said, "Now you fall asleep?" He didn't answer except with a snore. 

I made it through the court and work day on a combination of caffeine and determination. I even finished my motion and put it together for filing (my paralegal will file it today) a little after 5 pm. It came out pretty good, on a complex issue, probably because I was just so focused on getting it finished. It was as if whatever gas was left in my tank kicked in and I got it done. 

But I came home from work, a bit after 6 pm due to traffic, and I was bone tired. I was so exhausted that I almost started crying with relief when I crawled into bed snuggling under my Laura Ashley comforter. Okay I did tear up a little. And yes, Chewbacca was whining but I didn't care. I just said, "I'm sorry buddy, but I gotta sleep." 

I slept until 3 am. Now I'm up again with Chewbacca but at least I feel human again. I can do this. It's hard, but he needs me. Right now, as I was writing this, Chewbacca perked his head up and gave me a nuzzle on my cheek. 

I know he can't talk but I can write and I'm sure he knows I'm here for him. Yes, he's just a dog, but damn I love this little caramel colored shih tzu. We will get through the night and the sun will rise. As it always does. He just started snoring so I'm going back to bed on my futon downstairs so I'm here if he needs me. Night. Thanks for listening. 

The muse

Today, I have an event with a Latina writer named Julia Amante. We are talking about writing stories with a cultural Latina perspective. And reading aloud. It's being moderated by a writer/journalist named Minerva Canto who is also president of the Inlandia Institute. 

Lately, I'm moving toward less "reading" and more performance. I will try only to use my notes when I need to. It is stressful to try this out, but I think it's more me. I've always revised my stories when reading them aloud. And I like to challenge myself. 

And tonight I plan on trying to "perform" my story about my sad attempt at making flour tortillas. Last night, I practiced. I stumbled a bit because I've never read the story aloud. It was first performed on a radio show read by a voice actress. So it's not easy. I cut out 5 minutes to get it within time. 

You never know where a story will end up. Some of my stories end up in newspapers or literary journals or anthologies or perhaps, in a future book. Some end up here. But all of my stories start with an idea. A memory. An inkling where I think to myself, I should write about that. That's the beauty of memoir. It's taking your true life and turning it into art.

For some, making tortillas very badly can just be an event they'd rather forget. But for me, it's literary inspiration. It says something about who I am. And who I want to be. So I will continue to write on.