I started a live video weekly podcast. On it, I read a story from this Life of JEM blog (Yes, this very blog!) and then talk about how it relates to today. It's on Rag House Media's FB page streaming live, Wednesdays at 7 pm Pacific time. The ultra cool studio is in Ontario and I love the fact that I am reading my stories near where many of the stories take place.
The process is so creative and fun. The hard part for me are the optics. Being confident in myself and how I look is my burden but I'm trying hard to be confident and it's working. I'm making sure I look good every week. I do my hair, my eyeliner and of course, a red lip.
The talking part is somewhat easy for me.
The other hard part for me is after. Being satisfied with my production is a hard one for me. I have always been very self critical. I'm a perfectionist. Hence why my memoir has taken more than a decade.
I'm trying to take it as a challenge to be the best video podcast I can be. I really want this to morph into something big. Something special.
Every dream starts with a seed, a step and then a process. My first seed was this blog created more than a decade ago. The next big step was recording my podcasts when the pandemic hit. When I put them on audio for the Anchor app, I heard them and immediately knew I was onto something. I worked on them every night obsessively (part of the "process") and practiced my "radio voice".
Next was meeting my producer April Duran of Rag House Media. Kismet, that was easy. She was so supportive, cool, inspiring, and compelling that I decided to jump on the opportunity for a video podcast. Plus, we went to high school together, how cool is that? We are also both wanderers, she lived in Europe and I lived in LA, Texas and San Francisco. We have so much in common. And we've both got big dreams and aspirations.
So here I am. It's a dream come true. The process of the live video podcast is coming along. I'll get the structure worked out. It's not easy. But it's so much damn fun. I'm having the time time of my life.
Truly.
Panorama of San Bernardino
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Saturday, June 13, 2020
New day
I sit outside listening to the birds and the twinkling of my flamingo wind chime and I ruminate on the last three months. Then, I think about about these last weeks. How change happens can sometimes be unpredictable and I am finally seeing what I hope is a seismic shift in criminal justice policies.
For far too long, I have participated as a deputy public defender representing clients in a broken system, one about which I was constantly conflicted. Harm reduction was my goal but now, I have decided to stand up and to speak out. My practice will change. It has to. Now, I will practice my feminism in my work and call for true change. I have always nurtured and protected my clients and urged for salvation rather than incarceration.
As Angela Davis said recently in an interview with Democracy Now:
"And I would say that abolition is not primarily a negative strategy. It’s not primarily about dismantling, getting rid of, but it’s about reenvisioning. It’s about building anew. And I would argue that abolition is a feminist strategy. And one sees in these abolitionist demands that are emerging the pivotal influence of feminist theories and practices."
Reading her words, it is as if a lightbulb went off in my head, and my eyes opened. My views have always aligned with this abolitionist and feminist ideology. I've always known that this criminal so called system of "justice" was anything but just. It's just recently, however, that I have found the synergy in my work and writing to articulate it.
It's also been about reading, because all writing should begin with inspiration from writers who inspire and for me, Angela Davis' words do just that.
If I can urge anything, it's to read books like "Is Prison Obsolete" by Angela Davis and "The New Jim Crow" about the racism behind mass incarceration by Michelle Alexander. The best writers are prophets and see what society cannot until decades later.
Much like how the best musicians are visionaries, these writers saw and said and wrote the truth we are seeing today. Their words will resonate. I promise you that.
For far too long, I have participated as a deputy public defender representing clients in a broken system, one about which I was constantly conflicted. Harm reduction was my goal but now, I have decided to stand up and to speak out. My practice will change. It has to. Now, I will practice my feminism in my work and call for true change. I have always nurtured and protected my clients and urged for salvation rather than incarceration.
As Angela Davis said recently in an interview with Democracy Now:
"And I would say that abolition is not primarily a negative strategy. It’s not primarily about dismantling, getting rid of, but it’s about reenvisioning. It’s about building anew. And I would argue that abolition is a feminist strategy. And one sees in these abolitionist demands that are emerging the pivotal influence of feminist theories and practices."
Reading her words, it is as if a lightbulb went off in my head, and my eyes opened. My views have always aligned with this abolitionist and feminist ideology. I've always known that this criminal so called system of "justice" was anything but just. It's just recently, however, that I have found the synergy in my work and writing to articulate it.
It's also been about reading, because all writing should begin with inspiration from writers who inspire and for me, Angela Davis' words do just that.
If I can urge anything, it's to read books like "Is Prison Obsolete" by Angela Davis and "The New Jim Crow" about the racism behind mass incarceration by Michelle Alexander. The best writers are prophets and see what society cannot until decades later.
Much like how the best musicians are visionaries, these writers saw and said and wrote the truth we are seeing today. Their words will resonate. I promise you that.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Static
Static: Defined as “pertaining to or characterized by a fixed or stationary condition” or “interference due to such (atmospheric) electricity”. (Source: dictionary.com).
Can you hear me?
Screaming in my head
Let my people go
Let me go
Saying let us go
Release everyone
From this system
That hurts us all
I used to think
As a deputy public defender
I could work within it
Now I see it’s broken
Can you hear me?
Screaming in your ear
Listen to me
Please listen, listen!
Let me do what I do
Then let me go
From this misery
Of banging my head
My ears are ringing
From the beat of cuffs
On bars of cells
Across America
Are you there?
Can you hear me?
Screaming your name
It all still remains
Excuse me
Excuse you
Forgive me
Forgive us all
We know not what we do
Or maybe we do
Can you hear me?
Screaming in my head
Let my people go
Let me go
Saying let us go
Release everyone
From this system
That hurts us all
I used to think
As a deputy public defender
I could work within it
Now I see it’s broken
Can you hear me?
Screaming in your ear
Listen to me
Please listen, listen!
Let me do what I do
Then let me go
From this misery
Of banging my head
My ears are ringing
From the beat of cuffs
On bars of cells
Across America
Are you there?
Can you hear me?
Screaming your name
It all still remains
Excuse me
Excuse you
Forgive me
Forgive us all
We know not what we do
Or maybe we do
Monday, June 1, 2020
Testament
I am just here as a witness in these times. When a black man is held down and killed over and over and over. People are angry, frustrated, sad, and hurt that the state and systems have not been accountable and rightly so.
We have let people down. The systems are only as good as the people running them. For far too long, we have allowed others to shape the narrative. People like me, who have seen the inequities and systematic injustices on a daily basis, have not said enough. I feel as if I have not amplified my voice. I haven’t screamed loud enough for people to hear. This is my community dammit.
Because you see, as a deputy public defender, I see it. Every day. I thought it was enough to try to cure injustice one person and one client at a time. But it’s not. Micro change is important yes. And my clients need me desperately. They often have no one else.
But big change is needed. Macro change that makes foundational and structural shifts in how justice is applied. And that requires all of us who work within this system of so called justice to scream out against it. Say it out loud. Say their names. Don’t back down. Be a tireless advocate, yes, but also a political force and voice.
You see, they need us to testify to their pain so others will be able to see what we see.
We’re no longer just lawyers, we’re witnesses.
We have let people down. The systems are only as good as the people running them. For far too long, we have allowed others to shape the narrative. People like me, who have seen the inequities and systematic injustices on a daily basis, have not said enough. I feel as if I have not amplified my voice. I haven’t screamed loud enough for people to hear. This is my community dammit.
Because you see, as a deputy public defender, I see it. Every day. I thought it was enough to try to cure injustice one person and one client at a time. But it’s not. Micro change is important yes. And my clients need me desperately. They often have no one else.
But big change is needed. Macro change that makes foundational and structural shifts in how justice is applied. And that requires all of us who work within this system of so called justice to scream out against it. Say it out loud. Say their names. Don’t back down. Be a tireless advocate, yes, but also a political force and voice.
You see, they need us to testify to their pain so others will be able to see what we see.
We’re no longer just lawyers, we’re witnesses.
Tuesday, May 26, 2020
Fantasy Island
Everything looks nice on TV. Social Media is the same. It’s fantasy, a kind of construct.
I have said before that the image I project on the page is not me. It’s only a version of me. We all contain multitudes (Whitman).
This pandemic has created tiny worlds for us all. We used to run around keeping so busy. We were all worker ants and busy bees. Now that everything has slowed down, ground to a halt may be a more fitting description, we are still and quiet. That stillness can be terrifying.
Being stuck in one’s head is a frightening experience, especially when you’re not moving. The stationary nature of the pandemic, however, can also be an opportunity for growth. For me, I’ve been working on my poetic voice, learning to cook more than just eggs, and we have (well Adrian really) been working on the asthetics of our spaces.
What I have realized is that everyone needs hobbies. And pandemic hobbies may not be the same as your non-pandemic hobbies. For example, right now, it’s very hard for me to work on my memoir, but I find blogging and poetry cathartic and healing.
I’ve also become closer to some friends by talking to them on Zoom or on the telephone (can you imagine?!). I’ve also realized how much I miss my work colleagues who have always accepted my quirkiness. Even when I get annoyed at work, and the sheer overwhelming nature of the broken system I work within, I know how lucky I am.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, go easy on yourself. And realize that the images people project are just that, images, and reach out to those you care about.
When this all passes, and it will I promise, you want to remember these times and have used them to grow and reflect. Most of all, I want to remember these times as when I helped those in need.
But like I said, be easy on yourself and if you want to be a Netflix couch potato that’s OK too. I’m part of that club. I will never apologize for binging a series with my huge bowl of popcorn (topped with real melted butter and lots of salt).
Much love to all of you who read my musings. It means a lot. I will reciprocate and I’m here if anyone needs an ear.
I have said before that the image I project on the page is not me. It’s only a version of me. We all contain multitudes (Whitman).
This pandemic has created tiny worlds for us all. We used to run around keeping so busy. We were all worker ants and busy bees. Now that everything has slowed down, ground to a halt may be a more fitting description, we are still and quiet. That stillness can be terrifying.
Being stuck in one’s head is a frightening experience, especially when you’re not moving. The stationary nature of the pandemic, however, can also be an opportunity for growth. For me, I’ve been working on my poetic voice, learning to cook more than just eggs, and we have (well Adrian really) been working on the asthetics of our spaces.
What I have realized is that everyone needs hobbies. And pandemic hobbies may not be the same as your non-pandemic hobbies. For example, right now, it’s very hard for me to work on my memoir, but I find blogging and poetry cathartic and healing.
I’ve also become closer to some friends by talking to them on Zoom or on the telephone (can you imagine?!). I’ve also realized how much I miss my work colleagues who have always accepted my quirkiness. Even when I get annoyed at work, and the sheer overwhelming nature of the broken system I work within, I know how lucky I am.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, go easy on yourself. And realize that the images people project are just that, images, and reach out to those you care about.
When this all passes, and it will I promise, you want to remember these times and have used them to grow and reflect. Most of all, I want to remember these times as when I helped those in need.
But like I said, be easy on yourself and if you want to be a Netflix couch potato that’s OK too. I’m part of that club. I will never apologize for binging a series with my huge bowl of popcorn (topped with real melted butter and lots of salt).
Much love to all of you who read my musings. It means a lot. I will reciprocate and I’m here if anyone needs an ear.
Sunday, May 24, 2020
On the horizon
Something is brewing up on the horizon. I’ve had this feeling before. When I get this tingle, all the way from my head to my toes, it always means big changes.
There’s something in the air. It’s not just the strangeness of the pandemic. It’s everything. The world, my world, feels as if it’s tilted on its axis. The air feels different.
For the last two months, I’ve been struggling with the pandemic, and with my workload and other’s expectations of me. Then this weekend, I meditated and prayed for it, it being my terror, to go away. For me to be able to let it all go. It worked, that fear, it’s gone. The anxiety I had for weeks in my gut just disappeared as if by magic. In its place is just a calm, a calm like still water.
Maybe it’s because I've come to the realization that I do not care what other people think of me any more. The opinion of others just doesn’t matter to me. I’ve always had a deep desperation for everyone to love me. I wanted to please everyone, at the expense of my own self. Now I’ve decided, I don’t need to be liked. Or needed. Or appreciated.
I’ve made a choice you see. A choice to put me first. It’s not selfishness. It’s self love.
The only thing I care about now is whether I meet my own internal criteria. I ask myself, are you helping people? Are you doing your best? Are you being a good person? Are you meeting your own internal goals? Are you being loving and true?
My whole life I’ve cared so much about what others thought. Their opinion and evaluation of me was everything. This blog post is my way of saying, forget it. It’s my external bulletin board message to the universe saying, I’m me and I’m good. Screw what everyone else thinks because I don’t give a shit.
All I want is to be happy and joyful. I want to sing and dance and be my best self.
Merry. Sunny. Introspective. Outgoing. Those are just a few of my new adjective goals. Wait, add in fearless and honest. Oh and optimistic, courageous, loving, funny and kind.
From now on, I want to put my feet on the ground each morning and meet my life’s purpose.
What is it you ask?
Dear reader, that’s exactly what I am trying to find out.
There’s something in the air. It’s not just the strangeness of the pandemic. It’s everything. The world, my world, feels as if it’s tilted on its axis. The air feels different.
For the last two months, I’ve been struggling with the pandemic, and with my workload and other’s expectations of me. Then this weekend, I meditated and prayed for it, it being my terror, to go away. For me to be able to let it all go. It worked, that fear, it’s gone. The anxiety I had for weeks in my gut just disappeared as if by magic. In its place is just a calm, a calm like still water.
Maybe it’s because I've come to the realization that I do not care what other people think of me any more. The opinion of others just doesn’t matter to me. I’ve always had a deep desperation for everyone to love me. I wanted to please everyone, at the expense of my own self. Now I’ve decided, I don’t need to be liked. Or needed. Or appreciated.
I’ve made a choice you see. A choice to put me first. It’s not selfishness. It’s self love.
The only thing I care about now is whether I meet my own internal criteria. I ask myself, are you helping people? Are you doing your best? Are you being a good person? Are you meeting your own internal goals? Are you being loving and true?
My whole life I’ve cared so much about what others thought. Their opinion and evaluation of me was everything. This blog post is my way of saying, forget it. It’s my external bulletin board message to the universe saying, I’m me and I’m good. Screw what everyone else thinks because I don’t give a shit.
All I want is to be happy and joyful. I want to sing and dance and be my best self.
Merry. Sunny. Introspective. Outgoing. Those are just a few of my new adjective goals. Wait, add in fearless and honest. Oh and optimistic, courageous, loving, funny and kind.
From now on, I want to put my feet on the ground each morning and meet my life’s purpose.
What is it you ask?
Dear reader, that’s exactly what I am trying to find out.
Friday, May 22, 2020
Chirping
The birds are chirping so loud. Or maybe it is just so quiet that they sound loud. It is 630 am in the morning and all I hear are the singing birds and my dogs breathing. It’s beautiful. The birds sing and sing. Maybe I’m just learning to listen.
On my second tiny cup of espresso, I stretch. This is day whatever of the pandemic. There are surprises to be learned during a pandemic. One thing I’ve learned is that my dogs are spoiled rotten and also that I enjoy sanitizing the house every morning, the regimen of it, and doing laundry. Who knew?
My new organized closet makes me happy. It’s also my office so when I’m working, I sometimes take a break and look at my sequined jacket and dresses and imagine myself dancing in them again in Vegas. I remember all the Vegas trips and don’t regret them one bit. My party days may be somewhat behind me but I’ll always have the memories.
I have also found that writing poetry eases my anxiety and writing prose increases it. Why is that? Reading has also vexed me. Until yesterday, I wasn’t able to escape into a book. My mind wouldn’t let go of this anxiety inducing world to let me fall into the literary world. Then yesterday, I started reading a memoir and poof! I fell into it, losing myself for a couple of hours. It was bliss.
It’s Friday and of course, I have more legal work to do before a long weekend. I have telephonic hearings this morning and then a training (a pox on those those who plan a training for a Friday afternoon on a holiday weekend). After that, I plan to spend my weekend reading and floating in the pool. My goal is to disappear into a book and find myself while also finding truth and beauty.
On my second tiny cup of espresso, I stretch. This is day whatever of the pandemic. There are surprises to be learned during a pandemic. One thing I’ve learned is that my dogs are spoiled rotten and also that I enjoy sanitizing the house every morning, the regimen of it, and doing laundry. Who knew?
My new organized closet makes me happy. It’s also my office so when I’m working, I sometimes take a break and look at my sequined jacket and dresses and imagine myself dancing in them again in Vegas. I remember all the Vegas trips and don’t regret them one bit. My party days may be somewhat behind me but I’ll always have the memories.
I have also found that writing poetry eases my anxiety and writing prose increases it. Why is that? Reading has also vexed me. Until yesterday, I wasn’t able to escape into a book. My mind wouldn’t let go of this anxiety inducing world to let me fall into the literary world. Then yesterday, I started reading a memoir and poof! I fell into it, losing myself for a couple of hours. It was bliss.
It’s Friday and of course, I have more legal work to do before a long weekend. I have telephonic hearings this morning and then a training (a pox on those those who plan a training for a Friday afternoon on a holiday weekend). After that, I plan to spend my weekend reading and floating in the pool. My goal is to disappear into a book and find myself while also finding truth and beauty.
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