Where Vivid Narratives Live

Nine Days of Freedom

This spring break is not just a vacation. It’s a reprieve from an externally structured schedule. As a quintessential Virgo, I’ll always operate on a schedule, but for the next nine days, it’ll be of my own design. What a tease! Calling my own shots while pursuing happiness. Funny how there’s no problem getting out of bed in the morning when I can look forward to doing things that validate my existence on my own terms.

I find that my most creative breakthroughs occur around midnight. Another writer once told me that his moments of inspiration also came late at night. He chalked it up to his inner critic falling asleep sooner than he. I believe there’s a lot of merit to that. Physically, I can stretch deeper into a yoga posture when I relax. It stands to reason there’s a mental equivalent.

For the second month in a row, I borrowed part of my costume for today’s Austin Writers Roulette from friends. I also saw they have huge Afro wigs, which I called dibs on for the “Courage” roulette in July. Many creative thoughts for that July show flooded my mind last midnight. Naturally, I wrote it all down in the notebook that’s kept beside my bed.

More than ever, I’m making every day count. I attempt to do that anyway, but with so much of my time structured beyond my control, I cannot drop what I’m doing whenever the spirit moves me. For the next nine days I can. My long term goals will be to extend this freedom beyond scheduled vacations.

I’ve spent enough of my life on some institution’s schedule. Here’s the part where I figure out what I want in life…again.

Detox to Retox

I’ve often said that Austin is a happening city–both a blessing and a curse. Last weekend, I attended yoga four days in a row, Friday through Monday. I’d never done that before, but it was a luxury for both my body and mind, not to mention my bionic left ankle, which is still recovering from surgery.

As the rest of the week unfolded, I had at least two major things to do after school every single day. I normally don’t like to book my activities back to back like that, but occasionally life demands it. I don’t regret protesting for 3-year teaching contracts the doing yoga on Monday; attending a “Genetically Unemployable” meeting on Tuesday; attending EdTech on Wednesday before picking up my costume sword then participating in a webinar about my upcoming Peru trip on Wednesday; watching the African American program at my school then shopping for groceries on Thursday; and going to bikram yoga followed by an art exhibit at the Blanton on Friday.

Which one of those informative, life-enriching activities should I have eliminated from my schedule? I couldn’t think of a single one; so I did them all. As I strolled into the Blanton with a mixed drink that I’d bought before entering, I’d come straight from yoga as relaxed and energized as I could have been. I’d detoxed in order to retox. It’s all about balance.

My Saturday morning routine involved cleaning my apartment and changing my bedsheets. It’s the best time of the week to get such a chore done. During the week, the grime slowly builds up. Yet I don’t freak out about that since the healthy cleanliness of my apartment never dips too low. That’s how I feel about other aspects of my life as well.

Certain writing projects help me clean out the clutter. Otherwise, it would build up and rob me of sleep. I caught up on my rest on Saturday, then went to an art opening. I’d never heard of the artist before, but I will never forget him or his work.

What impressed me the most about Gabe’s work (I feel I can write about him, using his first name because he was just that warm and approachable) was the expressiveness in his subjects hands. Of course, most people are drawn into the Hollywood cinematographic quality of Gabe’s paintings, but I’ve never paid particular attention to an actor’s hands as I did with those paintings. I still struggle with painting hands.

When I finally got an opportunity to talk to the artist himself, I shared with him that I loved how he rendered the hands in all his paintings. He readily told me that a person’s hands tells you so much about them. I need to keep that in mind when I’m painting. I believe most of the hands I’ve painted reveal how uncomfortable I am with that body part. If I had the chance to have a longer conversation with Gabe, I would have told him how much I also liked the way his character’s bodies flowed. There is such movement and depth in his two-dimensional still paintings.

He teased me when I told him about my painting series, representing the main character’s work instead of mine. He quickly picked up on the fact I essentially distanced myself from my own shortcomings as a painter. Again, if I had the chance to talk with him further, I would’ve confessed I needed that distance in order to calm down the perfectionist in me and continue working instead of stalling out.

Gabe formally trained as a painter and has a 15 year career. I, on the other hand, am a writer, dabbling in painting. I was surprised when Gabe stated that he was actually a writer who painted as well. After hearing that, I gave him a business card with all the information about The Austin Writers Roulette, telling him if he was ever in Austin on the second Sunday of the month between 4 to 6, then he should stop by.

Even if I don’t have much confidence in my painting ability, I trust my organization and intrinsic motivation to keep my spoken word and poetry show alive long enough to attract other artists to participate. Everyone started from some point.

Painting Inspiration

The title of this week’s blog is a little misleading. I’ve not received inspiration for a new painting or even improving my latest work in progress. Instead, I’ve been inspired to do something cool with the pictures I’ve taken of my paintings.

The organized teacher in me has been taken pictures at every stage of working on the accompanying paintings that go with The Adventures of Infinity and Negativa. Last night, I attended a gallery opening that had some innovative photography. Yet, the work that mesmerized me was the short video, which incorporated one of the artist’s photographs.

The video played on a loop. I watched several cycles and listened to other audience members debate as to whether it was just one rendition of the video or two different ones on loop. The only thing that I kept thinking was that I could do a far less complicated video for each painting, showing it from start to finish.

I originally wanted to publish the individual stills, but a video seems so much more interesting, especially if each one takes no longer than about 30 seconds. After all is said and done, I’m going to have about 24 of them. That’s going to be a 12 minute commitment of watching the making of the series.

Of course, I’m not daring to attempt this until I have quit one of my three jobs. I certainly know which one that’ll be!

Valentina: Cupid’s Younger Sister

For last week’s Austin Writers Roulette, Valentina hosted the “Love & Passion” show, bringing joy to all who saw her gravity-defying hair full of feathers, a big red bow and a tiny wooden ship.

She opened the show, dancing to the three songs that best described her love life.

The first song was “Got My Mojo Workin'” by Muddy Waters. She explained that 80% of the time when she was attracted to a man, he was immune to her charms.

The second song was “100 Days/100 Nights” by Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. Valentina said that 15% of the time, her charms did work on a man only to discover later on, usually in fewer days than the song implies, he had some questionable personality traits.

Appropriately, the third song was “At Last” by Etta James. Valentina gushed that she reached this blissful state in about 5% of her relationships. And yes, that 5% was totally worth it ’cause she never knew who he would be.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all who dare to believe in true love.

Revamping “Adventures”

I’ve been working on my second novel, The Adventures of Infinity and Negativa for going on four years now. When I finished my first novel, Tribe of One, I optimistically thought that this second novel would take less than seven years to complete. Perhaps seven is my magic number. Or, I could have too much on my plate to dedicate the amount of time truly needed to craft a novel.

Although I began painting a series of storyboards to go along with the opening of each chapter last year, that endeavor has slowed down due to the weather and of course, having a full-time day job. Yet, most warm days on the weekend finds me on the balcony, adding the next layer of oil paint to the latest canvas.

Like most artists, I’m tempted to quit my day job and pursue art full-time. The true dilemma is what else can I do that would bring me joy, along with money and flexible time? The most financially feasible answer for me is technical writing from home.

I’ve been dabbling on a paid writing position since the last week in January. I’ve enjoyed the collaboration process and have managed to stay on track, eking out a couple of modules a week. The unusual frequency of “snow” days have worked in my favor. I have taken advantage of the additional ten hours. Of course that’s not all writing time, but with the sacred resource of time, I invest it as wisely as I can.

Sometimes, an extra hour or two of sleep is what my creativity needs…along with a revamping of my efforts. For two weeks, I went through my WIP and outlined it. Finally! After three years and over 200 pages, I’ve outlined the story, saw the blatant gaps and now I have the painful task of cutting all those cute little lines that truly don’t work in the story. The real stopper is that I don’t know what replaces the cut parts.

What a maddening thing the writing process is. And yet I’m drawn to it mainly because of the creative intellectual challenge. At some point, in a burst of inspiration, I’ll grasp the thread again. Then, I’ll fearlessly slash and type away.

I also feel once I get other things in my life in order, I can stop dividing my attention in so many directions and focus on the matter at hand. I’m still determined to finish this novel in fewer than seven years!

Carnaval: Black Orpheus

The 2014 carnaval theme was Black Orpheus, based on the classic Brazil samba movie done Greek tragedy-style. As usual, my capoeira group were honored to provide security for the samba school. A job that I look forward to doing every year since it gets me into the biggest party in Austin. We all met at our capoeira studio at 7:30, where the backstage wristbands were issued and the capoeiristas who were going to perform warmed up. Our mestre also reviewed the norms for the night.

In the past, I’ve had to contend with drunk women. Yet, this year, I’m happy to report that I didn’t have any drunk person challenge me. I was grateful for that since my ankle was still recovering and I didn’t feel as tough as I normally do. Nonetheless, I had a terrific time. I especially loved that the samba school had a wider variety of music this year. I hope that trend continues.

The Ice Storm Cometh

I have a confession: last Thursday, I told my 7th and 8th period classes to pray for a two-hour late start on Friday so we would not have to make up a cancelled day of school. Since I usually don’t assign homework, I’ll just assume that my students went overboard with the prayers. Lo and behold! Austin experienced an ice storm that shut down the city until midday.

Actually, I’m not the least bit upset about having a second three-day weekend in a row. As a matter of fact, I vaguely remember back in the day there being speculation about four-day work weeks once computers became more available. Of course that never happened since we Americans don’t know how to relax when we have a plethora of time-saving devices, except when it comes to acts of God.

Although I’d awoken a quarter to six on Friday morning, I stayed up once I found out that classes had been cancelled. After all, I was refreshed and ready to start the day. The true gift of any vacation, whether planned or spontaneous, is the extra time outside of one’s scheduled routine. One of the first things I did with my extra time was call my sister to sing happy birthday to her. I would have done that anyway, but our conversation was much longer since I didn’t have to be at work–at least the rigid work schedule I’m normally bound to on a Friday in January. I proudly told my sister that I got her birthday off.

This weekend, I’d only planned to go to the school play, “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown” on Saturday, but when I arrived at the school theatre, I discovered that the weekend performances had been cancelled, which was unfortunate since I cannot make the remaining shows during next week. This being Austin, I had no trouble finding alternative plans for Saturday night.

First, I went to an open mic at a nearby restaurant that had decadent Italian dinner specials. Not willing to choose between the two dinner entrees, I ordered the gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce with spicy grilled shrimp added. As if that wasn’t rich enough, I also ordered hot chocolate with Nutella. That was such a pleasurable meal that my brain exuded endorphins. Once again, money can buy happiness!

I then joined the open mic out in the backyard already in progress. I was not in the mood to read any of the material that I’d brought since a significant number of the audience had heard it already. Plus, none of the other artists were reading pre-prepared material. So, I followed suit and ad libbed. Apparently, my spoken word was coherent enough that one of the other artists asked permission to use my segment in a documentary, which I readily granted.

While at the open mic, I got an email from one of my fellow capoeiristas. He invited everyone to a Brazilian percussion performance later that night. I’d planned to go as soon as the open mic had concluded, but then one of the other poets read my tarot cards. I hadn’t had my cards read in nearly twenty years; so I indulged myself in a reading. Besides, how often would I get the opportunity to have my cards read by someone who professed he regularly used heroine for the medicinal calm effect?

The cards revealed that I was at odds with my present situation, but had the talent, arrogance and motivation to successfully change it profitably. During that positive reading, I’d pulled the “power” card. Of all the cards that I could have pulled, the power card reminded me of who I am, where I’ve been and all the potential I have. As I’ve always known, life is more difficult when I don’t stand up for myself. Also, I can withstand being in a toxic environment much better when I don’t drink the Kool-aid.

I went to the bar where my fellow capoeirista was playing a few minutes before they started. What a brilliant, moving performance! Even though I still babied my recovering ankle, I did the bare minimum of dancing as the rhythm seeped into my bones. I’d needed surgery just to remove the smile from my face. What a joy to see people from capoeira to various Brazilian musical genres.

One guy I’d assumed I’d heard his band before. He came up to me saying that he finally placed where he’d recognized me from–work! Out of context, neither one of us readily identified the other. I just laughed, gave him a hug and talked with him. We both were very thankful for the act of God, giving us more down time to enjoy life. Such a contrast outside of a toxic workplace.

This morning, I felt so energized during bikram yoga class. I fully embrace that the body can heal itself when we live in harmony. If nothing else, this unplanned long weekend has taught me that with happiness, everything else falls into place.

Forgive and Move On

Right off the top, I forgive all the assholes who’ve ever crossed my path. As I understand it, opposites attract and so at some molecular level, they simply could not avoid interfering with my pursuit of happiness. This includes, but is not limited all those people, who upon a few seconds of meeting me, conclude that I’m a one-trick pony and the too-curious people who copped a feel of my dreadlocks without first asking my permission to touch me.

Next, I forgive all the jealous women who ever said catty things to me or did petty things against me because they were not honestly aware that the very things that they hated about me was what they wanted to possess for themselves.

And to be gender balanced, I forgive all the men who wished to control me because they liked me and did not know how to express that feeling without driving me away.

I also forgive all those pheromone-drenched men who drove me nuts once I got a whiff of them, but were not the least bit attracted to me.

I forgive all the horrible bosses who were somehow threatened by the fact that I have a much larger skill set than what they know what to do with. After all, I’ve known for some time that I need to be my own boss in order to have the freedom to use all of my talents.

I forgive all the friends and family who expect me to be the same person who I was years ago or even last week. I’m an adventurous person who would become utterly bored with life if I didn’t try out new things and that has an affect.

I forgive those people who think because I’m a strong person that I don’t have feelings.

Lastly, I forgive myself for:

holding grudges long after an incident has past
causing myself to dwell in toxic situations thinking that I’d somehow “win” if I just managed to be the last one standing or get the last word
being so self-absorbed in my wonderful life that I don’t take two seconds to ask the other person about him or herself
beating myself up when some artistic or professional endeavor falls short the first few times I’ve tried
looking at my reflection and seeing the flaws before seeing the attributes
being consumed with anger and blocking the ideas of reasonable solutions
needlessly worrying about the what ifs and not enjoying more of the have nows.

And I thank God for giving all that I have and my parents for teaching me how to see the humor in life and laugh away the blues.

Psychosomatic Illness?

I spent a blissful two weeks on vacation and got a half day reprieve from professional development in form of a dental appointment on Monday morning. A three year-old had allegedly died after a trip to the dentist recently, which rattled me a bit, going into my own dental appointment. Yet, I’m an avid flosser; so I passed my exam and treatment with flying colors.

As soon as I stepped into the building just in time to have lunch and get some work done in my classroom, I started to feel ill. As much as I enjoy being a full-time artist during vacation, a part of me feels a severe disconnect between my strong creative drive and teaching at my present school. I figured that was affecting my health.

Tuesday was the first day of school for students. At the end of that day, I felt even sicker. I’d learned since Monday that the cedar pollen count had been high and that H1N1 was sweeping the nation at near pandemic levels. I tend to dismiss the alarmist reports of the American media since I’m well aware that they sensationalize facts for ratings. At the same time, I could not deny my constant sneezing, coughing, gathering of clouds behind the eyes, and slight chills.

Whichever combination of pathogens had invaded my system, I was determined to be well by the weekend. I started taking nightly “garlic shots,” which is what my family calls swallowing crushed raw garlic with plenty of water. I also put drops of hydrogen peroxide in my ears and went to bed earlier–a couple of nights, I didn’t even read (gasp!) before turning off the lights.

One thing I would not sacrifice was my bikram yoga practice. I knew staying in the hot room for 90 minutes would help detox my system. Even though the room was at a balmy 105 degrees, I didn’t break out into a pouring sweat like I normally do since I didn’t have the energy to exert myself in two sets of each posture. Even if I did both sets, I didn’t have energy to go to my edge.

Or put another way, my edge was simply staying in the room and moving as much as I could. The real challenge was internal. For two evenings in a row, I went to yoga since I had to get groceries on Thursday and cook Friday. In retrospect, that back to back hot yoga practice, along with garlic shots and more sleep truly kicked those pathogens’ ass! I felt so good on Thursday until about 7:30 and went to bed an hour and a half later. By Friday, I almost felt 100%. Close enough.

I cooked for the potluck that I was going to and managed to have a fabulous time socializing. Just like last month, I brought tupperware to pack up lunch for the following week.

I got even more rest, sleeping in on Saturday morning. I went to capoeira and had to modify nearly everything since my teacher did a lot of jumping moves. At one point, I noticed that my left hip had finally unlocked. This came a week after having a deep tissue massage on my lower back and left leg. I was initially ecstatic until my spine started some uncomfortable popping and a catch settled between my shoulder blades. No amount of gentle spinal twists could alleviate it.

So today, much to my delight, I woke up without the catch and I discovered that my left ankle had recalibrated along with my spine. For the first time since the accident, I did postures my previously gimpy left hip had prevented. My left ankle had become more flexible and could bare more weight. Just the amount of energy gained from the postures truly fueled me on. I’m so happy that my body’s reached another stronger plateau.

What a terrific way to start off the week…I’ll just see what happens when I walk into school tomorrow.

NYE 2013

One of my friends, who is a professional event planner, planned our New Year’s Eve celebration. She used her hotel points to secure our double room downtown. Some of us came from out of town, but those of us who lived in Austin forgot to bring a cooler. Since we had two joining double rooms, we used one shower as a cooler and the other for showering.

I learned the “rule” about taking pictures: raise the camera above the subject so that she appears slimmer.

Even though the other women had referred to me as “skinny,” I appreciated the slimming effect of a higher angle after a week and a half of Dionysian celebration.

With 7 women staying together, we had a good time getting ready and taking pictures. At one point, I wondered if we would leave the hotel to celebrate with other people.

Once we got out of our room, we had to take group pictures. We all sported boot bling and asked a guy to take a picture of our boots. At first, the guy got real excited because he thought we’d asked him to take a picture of our “boobs.” Dream on! He hastily re-aimed the camera for this blurry shot.

We took two cabs to a honky tonk bar. We arrived around 9:30, which was far too early for a good crowd, but since we were a group of 7, we brought the noise. Plus, we got three excellent tables in the middle of two bar areas and the mechanical bull.

The last time I’d ridden a mechanical bull, I was 27 and teaching in South Korea, riding for free since the operator liked the way my flying dreadlocks drew in the crowd. I got another free “ride” this time around as well since the bull wasn’t moving for this action shot. Actually, it tilted down when I mounted it since I started the whole pose-on-the-bull event. As you can see from the background, we were the only people in the club.

Another photo op we took was at the arm wrestling table. Again, since we beat the crowd, we had to entertain ourselves as best we could.

I’m not a “shot” person, but I participated in the first round and took one sip of the subsequent ones, passing the rest off to a friend to finish.

I stuck mostly to mudslides. In this picture, I’m sipping a mudslide and sporting my earplugs since the live band started playing at 11 pm.

One of my friends showed up just before midnight. Thank goodness because with a posse of 7 women, we needed more men to dance with.

One of my goals during the two-week winter break was to complete my eighth “The Adventures of Infinity and Negativa” painting, which happened today. Just in time to face school tomorrow. I knew that my present abilities would not freehand a good outline of Utila Island. So I printed a map of the island, photocopied it on a transparency and projected it onto the canvas to trace.

The biggest challenge for completing this canvas was not my busy schedule, but the cold weather. If the temperature was in the mid 50s, I’d put on a jacket and go out to paint. Anything lower than that stopped me from painting on my balcony, my preferred environment.

At the risk of being my own worst critic, I think the Caribbean water is too green-looking, but I love how the ladies look. Practice does make a difference. I attended an art opening last night and I got some ideas about how to do the eyes and fingers differently.

Here are my 8 “babies.” I’m so proud of them all. I’m about a third of the way done with the series. The two tricks will be to complete the other two-thirds by the end of the year along with the manuscript. Wow, there it is, my year-end goals!