Rededication

It feels like all of my time and energy goes to work, and hardly any time is put back into my writing.  If I were to hit the lottery some day, I would choose to write full time, but I feel like I could be doing more now to do what I love.  I’ve always been like my parents; I work hard, trying to earn my keep, and I put in more time than is probably necessary.  But it’s a part of how I was raised, and it’s a tough habit to break.  How do I reprogram my inner workaholic to prioritize my writing?

I need to get back to what I love.  Writing — in all forms — is what I want to do.  Guess I’d better make time for it then.

Days of Xanga

I first started blogging 11 years ago on Xanga.  I needed an outlet to handle my grief from my sister passing away, and the best way for me to deal with my feelings is to write about it.

One friend in particular has been with me the entire way — she was my first follower, understood what I was going through, and we’ve never lost contact.  Over brunch yesterday, we reminisced to our Xanga days, when we blogged daily and had a consistent following.  How much easier it was then, how blogging made so much sense.  Since then, we’ve both created new blogs, on multiple interfaces, but we’ve continued to follow each other, though our blogging is far less consistent.

The followers that we had weren’t in huge droves, but they were consistent.  They commented, they kept up with our daily lives, and we kept up with theirs.  We had true connections, rather than a bunch of strangers reading random lines and losing interest because there weren’t regular updates.

I want to get back to the Xanga days.  One thing that I can say is that daily blogging, even about random events or feelings, is that I had a sense of clarity.  I slept better.  Even if I didn’t go shouting from the rooftops all of my feelings and frustrations, they were on the page.  I had expressed myself, talked through it.  Maybe someone commented, maybe they didn’t.  Maybe someone could relate.  At the end of the day, it didn’t matter, because I’d dealt with whatever was going on and moved forward.  I slept better because I wasn’t going over the details repeatedly in my head.

I work hard at my job, but I’ve been neglecting my first love: writing.  I put so much time and effort into my work that I am too tired to write.  I use the excuse that I was brought up that way; trained and groomed to work hard and put my best foot forward.  But I think about what I would love to have time to do every day for the rest of my life, and it’s not work – it’s write.  If I want to do what I love to do, I guess I need to make more of an effort.  I can’t publish a book that’s never finished.

Time to renew the motivation, the commitment.  In doing so, my hope is that I’ll restore the connection with my readers (though not huge numbers) that I valued so much.  Time to return to writing.

Reminiscing

A little piece if my heart is still in México…

Bands competing for attention en el Zócalo. Families walking, couples kissing, wrapped in each other’s arms like they’d lose each other if they let go. Little kids toting balloons.

Breeze floating dry leaves. Street performers dancing to whistles and cheers, a drum line marches in.

Everyone is so relaxed. No one is rushing into the streets. Lazily sitting in benched in the shade or under big umbrellas enjoying crepes and churros. Strolling while eating an ice cream cone.

Es Puebla.

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Regresar a Casa

Finally home, after 3 weeks of travel, and I don’t know where to begin. Do I clean, do laundry, or eat some of Zea’s famous Thai style ribs?? Of course, we all know the ribs are going to win this battle, but I have yet to find that semblance of home.

I think the answer really is in finding a balance, but because I’m always in a state of wanting to move, I never put in all of the effort I’d need to really make any place “homey.” I think I actually feel more comfortable living in hotels at this point.

Mexico was incredible. And although “la vengaza de Montezuma” did take over for a few days, the language, the people, the history, and the buildings were just amazing. I’d go back in a heartbeat. I’m inspired.

I want to get back to my Xanga days. Very few followers have made the journey with me from my start on Xanga in 2003, through my blogspot days, to my home on WordPress. Through anonymous spells to completely public, and back to semi-anonymity.

But when I say I want to get back to my Xanga days, I mean that I’m tired of filtering what I have to say. I used to write anything and everything, and the only thing I really hid were the names of those I came into contact with. I just got everything off my chest and avoided the worry of stepping on egg shells.

Maybe Mexico was the start of my journey to the kind of writing I like, or maybe I’m just tired of talking about randomness without tying anything together. I’m a professional, I’m a writer, I’m a cook, a musician, an avid reader, a yogi, a friend, and a wanderer.

This is where the facets intersect.

Racking My Brain

Constantly writing and reading to keep the mind stimulated, but my mind keeps going back to him.  It’s literally been almost a year, but I find the heartstrings playing a familiar tune whenever my mind wanders.  And I don’t want them to, but they just do.  It’s got to stop some time.  The more busy I am, the less my mind will wander… At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

The last several months have been a whirlwind of work, moving to a new apartment, writing, reading, teaching, traveling, editing, and starting new writing projects that get in the way of the old ones.  But it’s a beautiful thing to feel INSPIRED.  It’s so much easier for me to put the proverbial pen to paper, rather than put time toward this blog, but we’re going to find a happy balance.

That’s a promise.