A Girl Named Eve

Marathon Virgin

2011-12-31T09:58:00.000-08:00

I finally completed my first marathon in December 4 at the Las Vegas Rock N Roll Marathon. Much has been said about the event, a lot of it is negative, if you Facebook people's comments. I had a great time. I come from a circle of friends that meet on Sundays to run through forestry hills in Orange County. Among them I was the only one whom hadn't completed a marathon while most had several under their belt. It sort of felt like I was back in high school and everyone's comparing locker room stories and I just shrug my shoulders and try to imagine what it must be like.

Vegas wasn't the first marathon I signed up for. Fourteen years ago, I signed up for the LA Marathon. I wasn't running regularly or didn't consider myself a runner but I've always been a bucket list/challenge/adventure type person and I wanted a new goal after obtaining my degree. Probably less than a few months later, before I actually started to train much, I realized I was pregnant and decided not to do the marathon so I won't strain my body. I know there are athletes that can run while their 7 and even 9 months pregnant but I didn't have their level of fitness so I didn't want to risk it.

We had our first son and two years later we had our second son. We knew right away we would want them to be close in age even if it would be hard at first. We come from big families so we debated having a third. With two boys we were already busy and debated if we would have a third or fourth like we talked about before we became parents. Before you know better, you can just through numbers out there and it really doesn't mean anything... we plan to have four. I hear some newly weds assert. We'll see about that, I think to myself. Still for us two felt like too few. I wasn't getting pregnant. Some months (in the beginning) I felt relieved since my youngest was still a toddler, I figured nature knew what it was doing. But as the months progressed, it turned into sadness. I wondered what was so different this time. I left it up to fate and finally we had our third boy. This time there was a three year difference. Not too long of a wait, especially when you hear other people's stories, but it did have me sweating it.

Anyways, now I see running blogs of mothers who run regularly and I realize how easy it would have been to get a good double jogger and exercise with them in tow. Instead I went for long walks with them on the stroller which was relaxing. Finally this year, with my youngest being 9 and it being the final year before I turn 40, I decided it was time to run my first marathon.

When they announced the Las Vegas Marathon would be at night. I knew it was the marathon for me. I am so not a morning person and usually for these types of events you have to be up extra early. Initially, I was following the training program. Instead of sitting around and waiting for my sons' soccer game to start, I went out for a run, sometimes as much as 6 miles while they warmed up. I went dressed in workout clothes, cap and carried a water bottle. I was back right as the game was about to start. I enjoyed doing something with that space of time that is often spent just waiting and I got familiar with new neighborhoods. I skipped out on the weekday training eventually because it felt like too much with school, dinner, and picking them up from sports. On weekends I ran the longer distances and was still playing soccer.

On race day, I heard a lot of complaining but I was determined to make the most of my first marathon experience and everything I do in life. The first half of the marathon I ran with the 4:15 pace group. It helps psychologically to run with camaraderie. When the course wasn't that scenic because it was in the back roads of an industrial area, I imagined I was rollerblading in Newport Beach pushing my kids on a jogger. I visualized my kids as toddlers, the sun, waves, smell of the ocean. I must have been smiling because I caught the attention of some runners who were complaining about the view. They asked how I was doing. Awesome, I said, I'm rollerblading by the beach.

I'd studied up runners experiences of their first marathon. And I agree, the miles do come quickly, for the first 20 miles at least. I would be surprised to see another water station so quickly. Mile 13 was familiar. I had run half marathons before with little training so I knew I could do that distance. When I hit mile 15 that was more than I had ran before and my knees where still holding up. My long runs were interrupted on weekends because we had a soccer game I played in. The euphoria of that evening was really carrying me through. There are so many runners. I saw a couple of women with Marathon Virgin signs on the back of their shirts. I tired to keep them in view.

We pass a neighborhood and there's a group of kids hanging over the fence yelling go runners! Keep it up! Too cute I think to myself and then think about my kids again.

At mile 18, I was surprised by how great I still felt. Since I hadn't put in all the training, I anticipated I'd run til I couldn't any more then walk but I'd be determined to finish. I was now running with the 4:30 pace team and was elated. Not only would I be close to finishing the marathon but I'd be finishing it in a decent time if I stay at this pace.

Mile 20, I felt like kissing the sign. I had made it to the infamous destination known as the wall, or what's considered to be the real start of the marathon. I shrugged my shoulders. I was still feeling pretty euphoric. I was complementing spectators jackets to their surprise. I focused on different things that evening to help me take my mind off the pain of running the marathon. From another blog, I got the idea to read every sign that a spectator holds up. I found that I appreciate the signs that cheer on runners as a whole as opposed to individual people. (Go runners or go mom, as opposed to go Edgar!) I hadn't ever thought of that before after having been a spectator to so many marathons for my husband. But its a different story when you are fatigued. You can use any ounce of encouragement you can get.

Mile 21, I felt as though I was being pulled toward the finish line almost by an invisible force tied around my waist. I'm having all sorts of flash backs about my kids. I'm feeling grateful for everything/everyone that has ever been a part of my life. I feel I can do this. I'm still excited about my time.

Mile 22, I felt stupefied. Follow the crowds. Follow the crowds. I repeat to myself. I'm now walking because my legs aren't running any more. The 4:30 pace team is long gone and I'm lucky if I finish the race. There's people passing all around me and it feels like at the start of a race where everyone takes off quickly and I'm going so slow it feels like I'm running backwards. I hear some lady behind me tell a race volunteer that she can't continue. And I want to inspire or help her to continue and I close my eyes because I don't want to turn around and look back for fear I might want to cave in too if I stop and lose my momentum. The watered-down Cytomax they were giving out wasn't doing anything for me. I'd gone through my Gu energy gel one too quickly. I figured the rest of my time would be spent walking.

Fortunately, as I walked, I overheard a runner thank a spectator for giving him a small bottle of an Ion sports drink. I asked him for one. I figured I must have been in need if I'm taking drinks from a stranger on the Las Vegas Strip but I know the runner community is filled with supportive good people so I drank down while I continued walking. A few minutes later it's as though my vision had cleared, and my legs felt restored. I thought to myself, why am I walking. And I started running again.

I was hopeful once more. I noticed the hotel strip again and the bands playing. I look other runners and spectators in the eyes as I pass by. It helps with my focus and to pass the time. I'm enjoying my stride.

The thing about running on The Strip was there was tons of spectators. On the good side I got to see a lot of nice coats that the women where wearing since they dressed up a night on the town. On the downside, people were wanting to cross the street in front of runners. Even if someone crosses in front of you a good three feet away, mentally its distracting when you're wore out. Whatever euphoria I had regained I was losing it quickly by having to navigate through runners and walkers who pulled into the left marathon lane for water. Not their fault. There were many issues with the planning of this event and that was one of them. There's drunk spectators in the race corrals holding up a wine bottle. People are walking around in here like it's Mardi Gras. I grow agitated by what I see. The pretty hotels don't do anything for me any more. I keep trying to visualize something nice and get distracted. A half marathoner crosses in front of me and stops for a picture. I'm up against her and can't move. She literally becomes my wall at Mile 22. Please move I say, I can't. She says she's trying but it feels like we are tangled up in pain. I shake it off. And continue by adopting my soccer attitude. I see each person I have to navigate around as someone I have to dribble/weave through to get to the soccer goal. Her, him, that one. I maneuver around a lot of people and each one feels like a victory to me. I'm getting closer to the goal.

At Mile 25, I see my husband and he's got water and snacks for me. I eat and run. I'm quiet. I'm close. I'm going to finish. Every now and then my knee sends a sharp electric pain just to remind me it's fatigued but by far I'm amazed at how well the cartilage in my knees are holding up. Sometimes by mile 9 in half marathons I have to wrap my knee.

Mile 26, I almost trip but I keep going. My legs feel like they want to buckle. Own every mile, own every mile. I had read that in a blog somewhere. Now I chant to myself. I look around trying to take it all in. Its my quads that are hurting me the most. They've never been the ones to complain. We're here! I can see the finish line but it feels far away. I hold hands with my husband as we cross the finish line.

The Benefits of Empty Space

2011-11-22T17:00:00.000-08:00

When my husband and I moved in to our new home over a decade ago. We brought with us one child, our first born son. I quickly filled our three bedroom home with hand me down furniture and clutter without giving it much thought. I know my mom meant well when they gave me the extra bed, night stands and dresser to decorate the spare room we had so it wouldn't be empty. But I realize now, there is a benefit to the emptiness. In the void of clutter, there was a blank slate where ideas and possibilities lie waiting on the white walls. With a full bed and ugly bedspread, I closed the door on the spare bedroom which I quickly labeled a guestroom without giving it much thought.

Years later, the guest bedroom is filled with my other two sons' beds. It didn't occur to me to claim the spare bedroom for my own til I came across a blog contest a while ago. Women submitted pictures of their "mommy caves" for a chance to win a gift card. I love to browse through some of them for ideas on how to make the most of small spaces. And by small I mean there's several examples of women who converted their closet space into an office. http://www.centsationalgirl.com/2010/10/homegoods-mom-cave-contest/

I have since carved out a couple of spaces for myself including my balcony which I have written about before and writers desk which is in the hallway landing of my house. My husband removed the cabinets which I kept clutter in and we made that space into a tiny office. I owe you a picture of my writing desk. Right now its a mess.... so you'll have to wait.

I meant to blog about this probably since last year. There's so much going on right now to write about and I know it seems a little frivolous in this economy. But the message here is to claim the space that you do have. The Mom Caves in the the link range from simple to dreamy but it's good to see women carving out a special space for themselves with the home they share with their families.

Book Giveaway: Café Dulcet By Chiquis Barrón

2011-08-15T08:23:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of reading Chiquis Barrón's latest novel, Café Dulcet. Set in the backdrop of Nogales, Arizona, Café Dulcet is a blend of rich characters, culture, drama, and community.

The novel weaves the life of Nena (Ximena Ferrer), a university researcher whose childhood greatly was influenced by the women in the local coffee shop she would frequent, with the lives of the community around her.

Nena's favorite after school hangout was Dona Pilar's Cafe. It was the heart of the community with people coming and going to pick up a cup of jo and learn some new chisme (gossip) or gather new words of wisdom from Dona Pilar as she talked in metaphor's describing people in relation to their respective coffee blends. Mysteries of an unresolved relationship are woven with the drama/tragedy that unfolds within the neighborhood.

You'll want to grab your favorite cup of your favorite coffee or tea, and sink back into a comfortable chair as you read this intriguing novel with unforgettable characters that will have you reminiscing about the chismosas (gossipers) in your own life.

The following are Chiquis’ responses to our Q/A session:

1) When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

Interestingly, although writing had always been a part of my life and something that I very much enjoyed doing (e.g. journaling; old-fashion, long letters to friends and family; scholastic and academic writing), it wasn't until my early to mid-twenties that I truly started doing it more seriously and in a more disciplined manner. Of course, at that time I had already received my Psychology degree, was actively in the process of applying to medical school, and working in the mental and behavioral health field so writing, even the more formal version of it that I was engaging in at the time, was still only but a parallel passion, second to my primary aspirations of entering the Psychiatry field. As I continued making my way through the oftentimes disheartening world of healthcare, and as I came to terms with who I was and what I ultimately wanted to accomplish in my life, I kept finding myself going back to the writing more and more. Eventually, without my conscious awareness of when it happened exactly, writing became what I felt most committed to. At the end of 2001, after attending my first writing residency at Vermont Studio Center and having successfully obtained a Career Development Grant from the American Association of University Women, I took a year off to hone my writing skills and pursue my writing full time. That was the moment when I knew that, despite all my other ventures and undertakings, writing would always be what I would go back to. It was then that I truly felt a writer.

2) What gets you through writers block?

Fortunately, I have never experienced a true case of writer's block. My biggest barrier to writing has typically been finding the time to do it alongside all my other work and business responsibilities, not a lack of creativity or ideas per se. When I do find the time to write, however, I admit I do go through an initial period of doubt when I begin to worry about whether or not I'll be able to put in words the many ideas and concepts going through my mind, or whether it's even worth doing, whether anyone really cares. And then I stop myself. I take a deep breath. I clear my mind and just begin typing, penciling or penning away. Stream of consciousness writing is what usually gets me past that initial period of fear. And then the joy of it all, the whole reason why I write to begin with, takes over and nothing else matters. Creative energies begin to soar.

A wonderful mantra for me, applicable not only when it comes to my writing but most other areas of my life, is the quote by Martin Luther King, Jr.: "Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step".

3) How do you cope with rejection letters?

Again, not to come off as an overly positive, Pollyanna type, but rejection letters have never been that big of a deal for me. I think I'd read so much about the publishing process and how rejection is an integral part of it that I was, in fact, expecting them and considered it almost normal. Many of the rejection letters that I received were standard, stock letters without any personalized information or feedback. But a few literary agents and small publishers were gracious enough to provide constructive criticism which I was very grateful for and found extremely useful. In the end, rejection letters for me have served as an opportunity to tweak and fine-tune my work and the manner in which I'm presenting it.

4) What did you learn from writing this book in particular?

First of all, I learned about the complex yet wonderful world of coffee: from its history and cultivation; to its processing, roasting, grinding brewing and serving; to the enormous role that it plays and the tremendous impact that it has in world commerce and world culture. As I developed the storyline and the characters, another big lesson was the realization that it truly doesn't matter how foreign people's lives may seem: their language, their experiences, their culture, their place in the world. Ultimately, there is always a point of convergence and coffee (or "el cafecito"), with its global, all-senses-evoking qualities, oftentimes serves as that unifying factor.

5) Do you have any rituals you do before you sit down to write?

Other than the "stop myself, take a deep breath, clear my mind and plunge in" process that I described before, I don't currently follow any set rituals before I write. Sometimes, depending on the mood of the piece that I am working on, I enjoy having a bit of background music. While writing Café Dulcet, different versions of "Moliendo Cafe", the song composed by Hugo Blanco from Venezuela back in 1958, definitely helped set the ideal writing ambience for me. Currently, one of the most uplifting and entrancing versions of "Moliendo Café", performed by Santos Bonacci, a Melbourne-based Flamenco/Latin/Jazz guitarist, is set to greet people upon entering my homepage (www.chiquisbarron.com). Also, a hot, glorious latté as I work never hurts.

6) If you could have dinner with any 5 authors at the same time who would they be?

Assuming these can be both living and non-living authors they would be: Ángeles Mastretta, Isabel Allende, Miguel de Cervantes, Benito Pérez Galdós and Jane Austen. I would sit off to the side at the dinner table and observe, just take it all in :)

Book Give Away

Thanks to Chiquis, I am hosting a book giveaway for a free copy of Café Dulcet. To enter, please share below your favorite place to sit and savor a good cup of coffee or tea. The deadline to enter is August 31, 2011, 11:59 pm EST. The winner will be randomly selected and notified by e-mail. They will have 72 hours to get back to me, or alternates will be chosen. Open to residents 18+ of U.S. and Canada only.

I received a copy of this title for my book review and an additional copy from the author for my book giveaway. All opinions are my own. Best of Luck!

Up Coming Events

2011-04-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

Commit to Pass

2011-04-10T07:17:00.000-07:00

One of the lessons learned from driving to El Paso, Texas, with my younger thirty-something brother, Gabriel was learning how to conquer my fear of driving large automobiles.

The car I drive is mid-sized. Over seven years ago, I hydroplaned in a twelve passenger van and spun into an almost 360 degree turn and stopped at a telephone pole in time to not get thrown back into traffic. This incident was the basis of my hesitation for taking the wheel of my brother's Suburban to help him with the long thirteen hour drive. Gabe was tired and hung over from staying up all night with friends. I contemplated. Would we be any safer with me driving? I've always believed in conquering my fears instead of letting myself become limited by them. However, I had slowly been doing the opposite ever since the spin out. I stopped driving our large family van altogether.

It wouldn't be my first time driving back all the way from Texas. At the age of 19, I drove a Toyota Minivan back from El Paso in the middle of the night while my father drove the older Honda Accord I had had just purchased. My mom prayed the rosary for what seemed most of the time. When I told her how it was lulling me to sleep she blamed it on the Devil trying to interfere our praying and continued. I made it through with countless cups of coffee.

I realized I was at a crossroads on this trip, either I would find an excuse to avoid challenging my fear or I would overcome it and open up more possibilities in my life. I chose the latter.

I took pictures while it was my brother's turn to drive to remind myself of my renewed commitment to pass whatever obstacles may come my way.

On the drive, I thought about Pat Bean, retired journalist and fellow blogger, who travels the world on her 22 foot RV. There's no way I could ever be that fearless if I can't even drive a Suburban cross state. Still, I held tightly to the wheel as I passed rigs on the road. With all my concentrated effort and deep breathing, it felt just like giving birth. My brother woke up in the middle of one of these labors. "You can't hang around them. Once you commit to pass, you gotta go for it." he warned. His words, "Commit to Pass", echoed in my head with each passing mile and truck. It became my mantra for driving and passing. With these words, I was able to relax further into my seat and enjoy the tunes of Shakira, Rob Thomas, U2, Juan Gabriel, and Cypress Hill that played mixed up on Pandora.

As with everything, time and practice makes things get easier. A few rest stops later, as I was climbing back into the Suburban, I thought, who knows, maybe I may just set off somewhere on an RV like Pat Bean after all.

Las Niñas: A Collection of Childhood Memories By Sarah Rafael Garcia

2011-04-07T18:42:00.000-07:00

I finished reading Las Niñas: A Collection of Childhood Memories by Sarah Rafael Garcia the night before heading out on a short trip to El Paso, Texas, where I would visit my father and tias (aunts). Out of all my unfinished books, I'm glad this is the one I chose. It was the perfect read to get me in the mood for visiting family.

In Las Niñas, Sarah recounts touching girlhood memories shared with her family of three sisters (las niñas), their proud parents, and extended family of cousins, aunts, uncles, and an unconventional abuela (grandma). Life wasn't all roses for Sarah, especially after her father passed away when she was only 13. Nevertheless, in her memoir, Sarah focuses on what matters most, the life lessons her parents taught her while growing up, and the simple yet beautiful memories they created as a young Mexican-American family with aspiring dreams. The Garcia family's vision of the future is best summed up in a letter Sarah's father, Rafael, wrote to his daughter, "each generation is given more opportunities, and therefore should make an attempt to accomplish ten times more than the last."

We don't get to see our Mexican culture in books or in the big screen that often. And, when we do, it’s sometimes not very positive or uplifting either (America Me or Maria Full of Grace). You come away from the book feeling inspired to look for more of the good in your own childhood memories.

Sarah’s words were with me when I embraced my tia and smiled after she grumpily remarked, “I thought you were a lot taller!” “Para que vea que somos de la misma raíz.” (So you can see we are from the same root.) I joked back to her. And Sarah’s stories were with me when I asked my tias for more details on a childhood memory I have of my mother’s brothers and sisters singing to my grandmother around the dinner table with their loud beautiful voices. I recall neither the occasion nor the songs, but I remember being awed by the way they threw their bellows and raised their chins to signal to the others to continue with the ranchera (traditional Mexican music) and as they took turns. My grandmother would smile and raise her eyebrows in delight as she sat and watched from her wheelchair. The voice they inherited was a gift from my grandfather. Not having grown up in Texas, I wondered if all their family get togethers were like this. “That is what you remember?” my tia told me after a long pause and serious stare like the kind that is accompanied after a long exhale of a cigarette, as if I had brought up something horrific. I smiled and nodded, “Yes, tia, that is what I choose to remember.”

I would recommend this book to any and every Latina. It is a celebration of girlhood, fathers who love their children, family and culture. It is also a fine example of how we, as parents, should be raising our children to embrace other cultures. Two thumbs way up Sarah Rafael Garcia.

Las Niñas: A Collection of Childhood Memories
By Sarah Rafael Garcia

sarahrafaelgarciawebsite.wordpress.com

Mujeres De Maiz Live Art Show

2011-03-30T23:10:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, March 6, my sister and I attended the 14th Anniversary Mujeres De Maiz Live Art Show: Soldadera de Amor. Mujeres de Maiz is a grassroots women's networking support circle of emerging Xicana and Women of Color artist and activists in Los Angeles who create work concerning women's issues. Throughout the month of March, Mujeres de Maiz puts on various community events honoring International Women's Day and Women's Herstory Month. It was our first time attending one of their events.

We paid a $10 cover and made our way through the artisans' booths at the Paramount hall. There were plenty of booths selling Frida, Cesar Chavez, and Dia De Los Muertos/Day of the Dead handcrafted decorative memorabilia. Other vendors sold natural medicinal herbs, Chicano books, local art, decorative handbags or jewelery. It was the first time I had ever seen washable feminine pads. The material was soft like receiving blanket material and in various colorful patterns like Hello Kitty or roses.

A half hour later, we made our way to the auditorium and were about to take our seats in the back in case we wanted to leave early. Fortunately, a woman let us know they had empty seats up front. I’ve learned to go along with these cosmic interventions as they tend to work out for the better. She took us to the second row where we got to see all the performances up close. And what a night it was. We watched various female groups or solo artists sing, dance, rap, drum, or read poetry or spoken word. The performances were inspiring and passionate, and resonated a spirited message celebrating women from all walks of life and cultures.

Needless to say, we stayed till the very end. We walked out of there proud our our culture, proud to be women and share in this movement of expression. It was an empowering night. Below are just a few of the performances from that evening.

Las Bomberas De La Bahia Performs at Mujeres De Maiz Live Art Show.

Las Bomberas De La Bahia Performs "Tu Eres La Poderosa" at Mujeres De Maiz Live Art Show.

In Lak Ech Performs at Mujeres De Maiz Live Art Show.

La Luchadora

D'Lo Co-MCed the Mujeres De Maiz Live Art Show.

Safari Park Half Marathon

2011-03-29T14:52:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, March 13, my husband and I ran the Inaugural Safari Park Half Marathon. Even though we left with plenty of time to park the car and pick up our race packets, event traffic and road closures caused us to miss the official race start of this sold out event. We had to park a mile away and walk back to the start line. On our way, I took pictures of the runners as they made their way out of the Safari Park parking lot along mile 1. We continued and started the race uneventfully with a handful of runners who were also delayed by traffic. As my husband pointed out, its an inaugural event so they have to iron out the kinks with each successive event.

It was a beautiful race. The course was scenic, hilly and challenging. And the weather was perfect for a run, cool but with clear skies.We passed green farms and saw cows feeding off moist dewy grass. We ran inside the park and saw wild animals. I don't have pictures of any of that. Once on the run, I didn't take any pictures since I was already running late. I decided I'd better concentrate on the run before they remove the road blocks.

Some of these running or cycling events you do once in a lifetime for the experience. And some become your annual must do event. The Safari Park Half Marathon had a good vibe to it. The weather and course were pleasant. Even as I was limping for a mile back to my car after the race, I knew I would do this event next year.

>> Safari Park Half Marathon

Tour De Palm Springs Bike Ride

2011-03-16T19:07:00.000-07:00

Got Quads? That's my unofficial theme for the Tour De Palm Springs. I'm used to running events where elite runners tend to be slender with worn knees. At the Tour De Palm Springs bikers were showcasing their over-sized quads in tight biker shorts.

I went with the advice of a seasoned Tour De Palm Springs cyclist and did the more scenic 55 Mile Course instead of the Century Ride. No regrets. It was an awesome ride and I loved it.

It was a perfect day to ride. The weather was warm with a clear blue sky. A month later, I still need to even out the tan.

You plan and prepare for an event, before you know it, it’s over. I have only my tan, pictures, and memories as reminders of my adventures along the way.

Hand On Wrist

2011-03-07T12:12:00.000-08:00

It feels like lately I'm back in school struggling with long division, essays, projects, and breaking down trinomial equations into binomials with my kid's homework. Consequently, I found I finally put my engineering degree to good use by finding application for the advanced math I once took. It’s hard to believe a few weeks ago, I was making minestrone soup from scratch on a school night with my boys. The new busyness makes me appreciate the evenings we spent playing outside till it got dark. Because of the new soccer season and school project deadlines, I was working with my kids’ homework calling it a day at 7:30-9:30 pm on days when we are out of the house 7 am headed for school. As assignments get turned in and March charges further into the New Year, I can start to see the light at the end of tunnel, and its season is spring.

Read Across America Day

2011-03-03T18:45:00.000-08:00

I volunteered to read at my kids' elementary school for Dr. Seuss's Read across America day. I was still running around in the morning when I asked my youngest son to pick out some books for me to take to read. Turns out they all weren't the books I would have chosen. (My favorites tend to be cutesy and sentimental.) Oh, well, I gathered my kids into the car and we were off. At school, I learned I wouldn't be reading to my sons' classes, another oh well, I couldn't change minutes before the readings. I was hoping my youngest wouldn't be too disappointed.

The first book I read was Julius, the Baby of the World by Kevin Henkes. Normally, when I read picture books to my boys at night, they listen quietly while we're huddled together in bed. To my surprise and delight, the third graders in class hung on every word. By a show of hands only two of them had read the book before. They gasped and commented about how mean Lilly was to her baby brother Julius. Some little girls in the class looked disapprovingly and shook their heads in disbelief as I read the story. But they were all happy with the sweet ending. It was such a roller coaster ride of emotions.

I read Kiss Good Night by Amy Hest and Anita Jeram next. This one is one of my favorites and was also new to most of the students. We all thought it was cute.

The room was full of "Oh my gosh" and shock again when I read A Bad Case of Stripes by David Shannon. They just about screamed or covered their mouths when Camilla blended into the walls of her bedroom, and when she turned into a pill. I chimed in, "I hope that never happens to me." And they responded, "Me too!" From their reactions, you would have thought I told them it was all based on a true story.

I left Julius and A Bad Case of Stripes for the class. They earned it since I had never enjoyed those two books as much as I did that day.

A Bit About the California Weather

2011-02-02T19:38:00.000-08:00

It's windy today. I felt an icy chill on my face in the morning and I buried my hands in my jacket as I walked into work. I live in Southern California so I can't complain about the weather. But I wanted to write about it because it is worth noting that my lover of a state has been moody.

For the last year, the weather in my Inland Empire city has been unpredictable and a lot cooler than normal. I've lived here over a decade and our summer temperatures would used to range from 100-110 degrees Fahrenheit. We hated the summers here. We used to not want to leave our air conditioned house in those hot months to drive anywhere because we would get burned by the car when we try to open the car door and then we'd have to sit on a towel to avoid burning our buns on the car seat heat while we wait for the air conditioner to come on. In 2010 towards the end of summer, we had 5 consecutive days of really hot weather like we used to have. Then it got cloudy and cold all of a sudden as if someone had changed the dial of our weather channel. The weather has been alternating unpredictably from rainy, cold, warm, warmer, cloudy, breezy, beautiful, with an occasional hot day sprinkled here and there. Overall, it's been great weather especially considering everything that is happening around the world. I'm just saying it's not our usual weather.

Somewhere In Between

2011-01-14T20:47:00.000-08:00

Even better than finding my diaries is reading them to my boys. I enjoy hearing them giggle and seeing them learn about my younger self, before I was their mother.

I signed up for an online writing class at UCLA Extension. I fell in love with the variety of nonfiction classes they offered. It looks like they have enough online writing courses to complete the Certificate Program without ever having to visit the campus. I’m excited and hope it goes well.

I had signed up at other extension courses to smaller schools before only to find the class cancelled after months of anticipating and scheduling it in my calendar. Once I didn’t find out about the cancellation till the morning of the class. I made the best of things by doing a write-in with another lady who had shown up. We talked most of the time.

We had an active weekend with a long bike ride, soccer scrimmage, and run. I missed having weekly writing classes for both the camaraderie and inspiration.

Found My Girlhood Diaries

2011-01-06T18:03:00.000-08:00

While putting away our Christmas decorations, my husband lowered my memorabilia containers from the high shelving in our garage. I wanted him to bring down the boxes because one of them contained my childhood diaries.

In the first plastic bin, we found my kid's old baby outfits. They were cute colorful sleepers that brought back memories of chubby cheeks, little hands wrapped around my fingers, and long hours spent nursing and singing them to sleep. I compared the white baby shoes with bells on them to my 13 year old's big shoes as he was lying down reading. We marveled at the changes.

The second box had awards, yearbooks, birthday cards, and the diaries. I wondered if there would be any good to them. Had I written any details I'd since forgotten? And would any of it be worth reading? I raised the silver diary with a red colored rose on it to my nose. That one used to smell like roses. I inhaled. It had lost its scent. I opened the diary and started reading. Streams of tears were sliding past my cheeks to my sweater before I finished the second page. To my surprise and delight, I was a very detailed writer since then. I wrote about how much my dad had spent on groceries $129.89 (for a family of 6 kids, mind you) and how I tried to talk him out of spending so much. I noted what time the kids my mom babysat were picked up and that after they left, I would push my grandmother on her wheelchair to try to help my mother with all her responsibilities. There were details about all my everyday nuances that are so irrelevant and yet so meaningful today.

The following quote was at the bottom of every right hand side page in the diary:

"Without anything special but write it down is better than with something special but never write it down. Sweet and tender memories are also the trace of past time."

Retrieving these diaries after over two decades, was like receiving a gift from my younger self. In that moment with tears in my eyes, it was as if my younger 12 year old self was there handing these journals over to me saying, "Here take them."

A New Year

2011-01-03T18:18:00.000-08:00

One year is out and another quickly fills in. I welcome 2011 with open arms. I blogged 33 out of 52 weeks last year. I plan to continue my goal to blog at least once a week in a effort to check in, feel my pulse, recalibrate if I have to.

I don't have an obsessive list of new years resolutions but I do have goals for the new year. In general, I plan to turn my baby steps into leaps and bounds, to be more fearless, and continue to follow my bliss and enjoy each moment.

2010 was the start of many adventures. I met my Sacred Writing Circle, traveled to Alaska with my family and NYC with my sisters and husband, spent many nights reading poetry or science-fiction with my boys and husband in our nest, took long drives with lots of conversations with my sister on our way to writing groups and classes, did a mini writing retreat with my sister, wrote some travel pieces, joined a soccer league, played and ran with my kids and husband, ran several half marathons, read a lot of good books, attended four very memorable writing workshops from kick-ass women writers, started a blog, did an open mic night, and saw four unforgettable plays. I'd say it was a awesome year.

Kiss My Mistletoe

2010-12-27T16:43:00.000-08:00

I went with my husband to see Josefina's Lopez's latest play Kiss My Mistletoe at CASA 0101. It was as hilarious as it was outrageous. Kiss My Mistletoe pokes fun of issues women face during the holidays. The show was broken up into 12 skits that ranged in themes from nosy family members inquiring about why they aren't married yet, TSA pat downs, to food cravings during the holidays. The scenes were as bold and daring as Josefina herself. I was gasping "Oh my God!" and laughing to a point of tears when Josefina was getting patted down in a skit.

What I loved the most about this experience was the interaction between the audience (made up of mostly women) and the actors on stage. We were shocked and laughing so hard, the actors reacted to our loud roars. It made them chuckle and have to pause before they could continue with their lines. That moment, sitting there in the audience, reminded me of a scene from one of my favorite movies, Cinema Paradiso.

In Cinema Paradiso, a filmmaker goes back to visit his hometown and recalls when he fell in love with movies at his village's theater and formed a close friendship with the theater's projectionist. For several decades, the theater brought the people together and was the heart of the community. There’s a warm scene in the movie where the villagers are at this quaint Sicilian the theatre, enjoying a movie and rolling with laughter. CASA 0101 reminds me of the theater from the movie Cinema Paradiso.

The skits were a reflection of our culture and our times. Hollywood couldn't have produced a movie quick enough to poke fun of TSA pat downs, and our stories are unrepresented on the big screen. That's why local theater houses are so critical. Grassroots theater houses such as Casa 0101 in Boyle Heights, or Breath of Fire Theatre Ensemble in Santa Ana bring the community together to celebrate our culture and share our stories.

CASA 0101
http://www.casa0101.org/

Breath of Fire Latina Theatre Ensemble
http://www.breathoffire.org/

Theme Song from Cinema Paradiso

My Sacred Circle: A Writer's House

2010-12-17T12:13:00.000-08:00

My sister and I met our Sacred Circle (writing group) at one of the writer's house in November. It was everything I imagined a writer's house to look like. I opened the gate of the white picket fence and entered through a white trellis with colorful flowers dangling from the top. Large trees gave the front entry shade, while the colorful flowers and the water fountain added a retreat like feel to the house. Inside artwork hung all around the walls, cultural artwork that made evocative, unapologetic, sexual, sensual statements. And then there were the books, all over the office and throughout the house. I thought I had books. Not! There were more books than I think I'd ever have the time to read. After we shared appetizers, we sat around a large table and a few of them, but not me, shared their work. It was a completely different feel than being at a bookstore patio with the cold wind, a metal seats and table, and noisy nosey passer-bys. Here it was fitting that we were surrounded by books and outspoken art as our only witnesses.

Writing A Monologue

2010-12-16T07:05:00.000-08:00

I'm working a monologue I've been piecing together that came out of an idea from Josefina's Writing Workshop. I have a very rough draft of 6 pages I need to mold into 3. I wrote paragraph by paragraph taking breaks in between. Writing a personal memoir or monologue is a lot more taxing than writing a review or feature piece. They say writing is a solitary job but so far I have come across many writers in my classes, online blog and writing communities, my sister, and my Sacred Writing Circle that it feel fills me, and I feel like I'm not alone but rather on a pilgrimage with them.

Song: Brandon Heath, "I'm Not Who I Was"

storysalon.com

2010-12-11T13:14:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd share with you a site I heard about through kpfk.org: Story Salon. Story Salon is a group of storytellers who get together every Wednesday at the Coffee Fix coffee house in Studio City to share their stories in an open mic experience. Thanks to the wonder of the Internet, you can listen to archived Podcasts through their website www.storysalon.com and at Story Salon YouTube Channel.

In their own words:

"STORY SALON began in a North Hollywood coffee house in 1996. The rules of the show are simple: Five to seven minutes of original material performed by the writer. This open policy, embracing a sort of ’free-range’ writing, results in one of the most eclectic hours of performance available."

Some of the events have a common theme. In the Fall Classic, the storytellers gathered to share their autumn tales. The stories have replaced my routine of listening to music while I’m getting dressed in the mornings. Listening to them is like sipping warm hot chocolate on a cold winter Sunday while sitting bundled with a warm flannel blanket and good book-very rich indeed.

Story Salon @ Coffee Fix
Every Wednesday, 8pm @ Coffee Fix

12508 Moorpark St
Across from Studio City Library,
Studio City
818.762.0181
$4 minimum
www.storysalon.com

Go Your Own Way - Women Travel the World Solo

2010-12-04T10:30:00.000-08:00

I'm devouring the book, Go Your Own Way. It’s a collection of travel essays by a very diverse group of women who travel abroad solo. The stories are as unique as the women and the places themselves. Julianne Balmain in Wolf Pleasures purposefully travels unaccompanied in New York City to follow her own whims in search of a perfect breakfast, while Holly Morris chases wild boars through the jungles of Borneo in Snake Eyes of Borneo.

Traveling abroad alone can be a dream or nightmare. Stephanie Elizondo Griest is reluctantly alone in Abandoned in Uzbekistan when her travel companion takes off and she has to wait for her visa to clear. But Alexia Brue breathes a sigh of relief when her clingy travel buddy decides to join their college friends on the Eurail in French Laundry.

Even though we are by ourselves, we are never really alone thanks to the kindness or insistence of strangers. In Resisting Florence, Lucy McCauley declines an invitation from a kind stranger to go and take a look where a crowd had formed to see the “Perseo”. Traveling alone, Lucy doesn’t let her guard down, not even for a handsome friendly Italian old man. After he leaves, she curiously wanders to take a look and realizes she would have missed out on an opportunity of a lifetime had it not been for the thoughtfulness of a stranger. Katie Krueger befriends a persistent local she was trying to shake off and almost falsely accused of steeling her wallet in Unwelcoming Hospitality. While traveling alone through Mexico, Michele Peterson decides its time to move on when nosey hotel clerks, intent on preserving her honor for her husband, spy on her in Armed and Dangerous.

I’m half way through the book and enjoying each adventure.

Remembering Alaska

2010-11-30T19:37:00.000-08:00

In August my family and I took an unforgettable cruise to Alaska. I took from that vacation several ideas for travel articles and have since written about my adventures in articles such as How to Avoid Overspending While on a Cruise.

One of the most memorable things we did was zipline in Skagway, Alaska. I wrote a travel article about it on AC, Ziplining in Skagway, Alaska. I had been wanting to zipline with my husband and sons for some time and I'm glad we finally got a chance to do it.

The guides were young men from Oregon who took the Alaskan Marine Highway System to spend an adventuresome summer in Alaska. One guide called Smiley seemed to have a smile that emanated from his bones. He looked so blissed out, it was hard to image he'd ever had a parking ticket, or gone through any sort of trauma, or disappointment in life. I expected to find that sort of happiness from a Buddhist Monk not some 18 year old. I made a mental note to encourage my boys to spend the summer in Alaska when they become young adults.

There were many Unforgettable Moments at Sea Aboard the Alaskan Sapphire Princess. One of them was when my boys and fellow passengers played with the wind at the front of the ship. Another was swimming on the pool as the ship sailed. The ships motion made swimming in the pool feel like I was in the ocean.

I followed my curiosity into Dolly's House, the home of Ketchikan's most famous Madam and came out with more questions than when I went in.

When I go through the process of jotting down notes, writing a rough draft, and making corrections, I re-live the experience and enjoy it for a second time. And then whenever I get new comments from readers, I get to enjoy it again and again knowing that my adventures and stories live on.

Detained In The Desert

2010-11-19T17:27:00.000-08:00

I went to see Josefina Lopez’s world premier play, “Detained In The Desert”. Josefina, known for her popular Real Women Have Curves, was vacationing in Arizona when SB 1070 was passed. She was unable to go to protest rallies held that night because of prior family commitments but Josefina had it in her heart to do something. In the five years between 2003 and 2007, there was a 40 percent increase in crimes against Latinos. It’s no wonder considering the proliferation of “hate talk” that spews off the radio, TV, and internet and aims at infuriating the masses. In a climate saturated with negative propaganda, fear mongering, and increasing violence, what one would consider a random act of violence is in reality not so random after all. When we create a society that is so pitted against one another, our chance encounters become unavoidable collisions between unsuspecting individuals caught within the biome of the conflicted society in which we live. It’s like walking into a room with several automatic baseball pitchers going off and getting hit. How is that random? Out of both a need and desire to make things different, Josefina wrote and co-produced “Detained In The Desert”. .

"Detained In The Desert" is a timely thought provoking play that follows the lives of two people at opposite ends of the SB 1070 law. Sandi (Elizabeth Frances) is a brown skin American citizen who defiantly refuses to show her identification when questioned by an Arizona Police Officer, Ken Beavers (Mark Burham) after he discovered her making out in a car pulled over to the side of the road somewhere near the border. The irony is that she is with her Canadian blond haired boyfriend who doesn’t have a Visa and is never questioned. The other was Lou Becker (Carey Fox) , a radio disc jockey for KRZT 1070 in Arizona who was spreading hate talk through his well known radio talk show. Their lives collide after a series of seemingly coincidental incidents.

The theatre, Casa 0101, is small, dark, and intimate. It has a personal feel to it you don't get from a large auditorium. The casting and the actors are unforgettable, and the play settings are simple yet effective. You don't want to miss “Detained In The Desert” last weekend performance.

Detained In The Desert
October 1 - November, 21 2010
Fridays @ Saturday @ 8pm,
Sundays @ 5pm

Casa 0101 Theater
2009 East First Street
Los Angeles, CA 90033
(323) 263 7684
www.casa0101.org

Casa 0101 Writers' Workshop

2010-11-11T22:00:00.000-08:00

I've been attending a Josefina Lopez's writing workshops on Tuesdays in Los Angeles with my sister. It is an unforgetable learning experience. Josefina opens herself up and shares her professional experiences with us so that we can learn and move ahead in our own writing ventures. She clearly wants us to succeed. The classes are three hours long but I'm immersed the whole time so it feels like only twenty minutes. Each class is only $10. The best part is how much real world experience we learn from her. We leave the workshop with a long drive home but excited and contemplating the possibilities. With Josefina it feels like anything is possible if you pursue it. I get home late, wrap my arms around my sleeping husband and fall asleep completely blissed out.

http://www.casa0101.org/

Eat, Pray, Love

2010-10-22T20:27:00.000-07:00

I finally finished Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It was a breathtakingly beautiful book. It reminded me of my own spiritual journey which I have been in for the last couple of years. Spiritual living is not a destination but a way of living. I recommend the book. I hope you are far along enough on your own spiritual journey to capture the depths of this book. I've heard the book gets mixed reviews. Some people just don't get it. Like Eckhart Tolle’s New Earth, you most likely have to have some higher-level of consciousness to grasp the message of the book, and it takes a while to get through the book because you want to stop and reflect. Elizabeth Gilbert takes you on a soul-searching journey with intimate details you would share only with a bestfriend.

My Sacred Circle

2010-10-19T11:27:00.000-07:00

In the middle of school, soccer games, church, family parties... life, my sister and I still made the time to regroup with the women we met at the Memoir Writing Workshop a month ago. Although I liked them immediately and we said we'd meet again to start our own writing group, I wasn't sure if we would actually ever see them again because it wasn't the first time we had said we'd form a writing group, and then lose all communication with the group. And, this one was the furthest away. So when we got the email about the upcoming meet up, we were ecstatic and knew we had to go.

My sister and I once again set out on a 45+ minute commute to pursue our writing passions. Although I had seen my sister at a family party the week before, when we see each other to drive to a writing workshop it's very different. We catch up on what we are reading or writing, we talk about what our latest hopes and plans are. We'll give each other tips on things we've come across. And, we'll even read to each other in the car while the other drives.

We meet the group at the patio of a Borders bookstore. We talked about our goals and what we hope to gain by being in this group. Again, we connect immediately. We are very different in age, personality, background, education, and writing experience. Yet, we share the same Mexican Culture, and our differences complement each other. On my notes I jot down, "I love this women writing group". It was like being on a really good date and you know there is chemistry there because you can feel it. I don't hold back. I tell them how excited I am to be here. They agree. We are well aware of how neat it was to share this space and time, and to be able to share our stories and lives with each other.

There is a published writer amongst us. And by published I mean published by a large publishing house, and her book is well known. I sit by her and ask questions. I want to learn everything. She mentioned how her old writing group had published several named popular works through the years. I was in awe and could feel the words of experience by someone who has put in the work to succeed in this writing business. There was also a social worker among us who shared that her writing muse rears its ugly head when she's with a client and hears their stories, it causes reflection on her own. When I hear this I laugh hysterically almost to tears because I could picture myself tuning out my client as I jot down notes for my memoirs if I was in the same field.

We decided to use the time to critique each other’s work. A couple of the women volunteered to have their piece read out loud by someone else in the group, and then we would critique/edit the piece as a group.

I went home excited. My dog could have gotten run over and it wouldn't have taken away the high I was feeling. I got dressed up for a family birthday party. So I didn't have a chance to write till the next morning after breakfast and after my boys and I had spent time on our nest reading and playing. In the middle of writing my morning pages, another chapter of my life kept consuming my attention. I tried to ignore it at first, but then stopped fighting and wrote about it. And like that I was able to birth another chapter of my memoirs. I finished minutes before it was time to get ready for church. I cut my time in getting ready so I could run back to my journal and add a few lines as they came to me as I put on my makeup.

We're supposed to meet up with the group next month. I'm excited.

On Winning and Losing

2010-10-08T16:13:00.000-07:00

Winning Our First Game of The Season

We finally won our first game of the season in the 30 and over coed soccer league. I wouldn’t say that our victory was sweet because at the end of the game our team looked defeated. It was a frustrating win. We struggled against the team that was ranked the lowest in the league, and they even had fewer players out there than we did for the first half of the game. At one point, they were ahead by two goals. I thought for sure we lose yet another game. But then, one of the midfielders managed to score two consecutive goals; moments later, someone else on our team scored another. We won in the last few minutes of the game. Whereas I felt the team should be celebrating, they were mostly sitting quietly taking off their soccer shoes, exhausted by the heat, and frustrated by how long it took to turn the game around.

That game was won by my teammates. As for myself, I still felt like I was drowning out there. If you have ever come close to drowning in a pool like I have, you know that as your bring your face up to gasp for air as you are trying to stay afloat, you can see all around you. But then you sink back down after having swallowed more water in exhaustion. That’s how I had been feeling out there in the soccer field these last few games. Only I wasn’t swallowing water, I was swallowing fear. After that first game, which felt a lot like the ending to the movie Platoon, where the grenades were just going off and there was no place to run for cover, I was afraid to be out there in the field with those soccer grenades. I would get so nervous before a game. Part of me would start to wonder why I signed up for this. What was I thinking? There was no way I was quitting though. I just couldn’t anchor myself to the field or to the presence of the game. I had no idea what I was doing. When my husband and teammates talked about the game, I couldn’t recall the plays or players they talked about. It was all a blur, no clearer than the sights seen from a scary fast roller coaster.

In the scrimmages I’ve played there are usually only twelve players out there, and the field is much smaller. My team consists of about 6 players and we generally don’t hold our positions since there are so few of us. I hadn’t learned to keep my line and stay on my side of the field, a very basic skill in soccer. I also hadn’t learned how to dribble or control the ball very well, or how to hit the ball hard so that it moves further than my usual five-foot range. What I am good at is chasing after someone who’s got the ball and get in their way, or even managing to steal the ball from them. I even jump in front of the speeding balls and get hit in order to block the goal. I play with heart not skill. I've played well in the scrimmages because I’m relaxed and seize the moment, in the games I didn't even have that.

On A Personal Victory

This last Sunday we played again and it was the first time I felt grounded during a game. I knew my position and where I should be running up and down on the field as an outer mid fielder. I managed to block players and had a better handle of the game. The team captain told me to block this one girl in her early twenties. I stayed with her for the most part and she pushed me when I was challenging her for the ball. I’ve been more relaxed this week, so I took it as a compliment and softly pushed back. She never scored. We lost the game even though we were up by two goals by half time. This time there was more camaraderie after the game, at least we played well for the first half of the game before we ran out of steam. We are getting to know each other as teammates. I was so happy, excited, and very relieved because I had finally played a good game. At last I didn't feel like I was drowning out there. I had contributed to the game and to the team. And, it was even fun. I was grateful I'd signed up after all.

Went to Memoir-Writing Workshop

2010-09-22T18:02:00.000-07:00

I went to a memoir-writing workshop recently. I don't want to be the girl who cries at the slightest thing but, in this case, I was. They asked the question: who told you, you can't write? We had to state our writing demons, and then write out the dialog between this inner critique and our retaliation to their remarks. Ultimately, it is only ourselves that can hold us back from our own dreams. But sometimes we've internalized the voices of others tell us that we can't. I'd done this exercise before privately, in my own bed, in my own room, and in my own journal but never out loud. When we were done, we had to go around the table and read the dialog. I was picked the first to go. Before I could even let out a word, my throat choked up, my face turn red, and my eyes began to water. I read and cried. We all cried. I thought I had left all that hurt hidden away on paper somewhere, and there it was strangling me. I can't begin to describe that whole situation with my demons without writing a book. I'll leave that for my memoirs. I went home that night and did some visualization techniques to let go of the residual pain and send it away. I felt better immediately. The workshop helped to remind me that it's up to me to write and keep going.

Feeling My Pulse

2010-09-15T06:24:00.000-07:00

I have found that blogging is a good way for me to feel my own pulse. I read through my past posts, and it puts me at a time and place in my life. There are so many moments I find blog-worthy. Ironically, I find it hardest to write about things I enjoyed the most. I wanted to write a great review to a play that I saw, or a trip that I took, but I was paralyzed on how to begin. I remember the advice from writing books I’ve read tell me to begin, and I do. I’m currently sitting on a collection of drafts that I’m waiting for a wave of inspiration to roll through me so I can finish them off one evening with a glass of red wine.

Actually, it’s more like I’m waiting for this fatigue to finish wearing off so that when I do write, it can be pretty and clever, instead of tired and spent like I’ve been feeling. I was having one of those weeks were if I was a smoker in remission, I would have picked up a cigarette and had a long drawn out puff that would have shattered my months or even years of being smoke free. And, I wouldn’t even have cared. That’s why I haven’t ever tried to smoke. I know I would be addicted.

I didn't want to blog until I resolved what I was feeling at work. "At least I got a job… in this economy." became my mantra. I was hoping it would make me appreciate my job more. It didn’t. Even my usual Sunday morning run with the kids became stressed when my oldest teased my youngest about being competitive since he took the lead. At the end of the run, I knew I was out of patience so I put myself on time out on the parking lot curb between two cars without saying a word. I knew I had to change my outlook in order for things to really get better. I’m a master at the self-help concepts. I just have to find a hole of space and time to crawl into to do some meditation and visualization techniques without getting interrupted. The thing is people and obligations kept finding me. Even in the parking lot that day, one of the other runners in our group gave me a curious look and came to see what I was doing. I had family visiting, a birthday party to host, beautiful things that are part of life that we take for granted when we get anxious about the wrong things. At most I was able relax for a few moments but the anxiety was always right there underneath the surface.

Then one evening, after my visiting family had left and things had gone back to normal, I went out to my balcony and stared out at the sky from my patio recliner in between reading Eat, Love, Pray. I saw planes pass by overhead that looked liked they were swimming across the sky. Slowly and finally, I began to feel more relaxed. Just like Molly Bang’s Sophie in the children’s book, When Sophie Gets Angry- Really, Really Angry, after seeing the stars and feeling the night’s cool breeze, the "wide world" comforted me. I climbed back down from my balcony to my house that was still a little loud and a little messy, but this time this Sofie wasn’t angry any more.

Soccer Season

2010-09-02T20:23:00.001-07:00

My husband and I signed up for a local, 30 and over, co-ed soccer league that plays on Sunday evenings. We started our own team of soccer misfits, which consisted of soccer newbies, coach potatoes, and former recreational soccer stars. Most of the team had never met until literally minutes before our first game, and some of our key players weren’t able to make it. On the way to the game, my husband warned me that this new league would be harder than the scrimmages I’d played. I couldn’t see how. I was pretty confident in my ability to defend, and I thought, maybe he's just never really seen me play. The Kung Fu Panda in me wants to win the Championships this season, so I was very hopeful.

We ended up losing 0 to 12+. We played against one of the better teams that have been playing for 2 years. Individually, they weren't that fast, but they knew how to play as a team. They kicked the ball long and high, and took shots from afar, which made it feel more like a volleyball game. I played defense and managed to block a player or two, but there were too many. Five of them would push forward every time to try to set up for a goal. My team was scattered, we hadn’t held on to our positions. It often felt like there was more than one ball on the field. Fortunately, they over-kicked most of the time, missing most of their intended goals. I was having a relapse of the game in my dream that night and when I woke-up, I was relieved I’d be going to work. Sounds like fun? It was! I wouldn't change my team. We have a lot of heart and potential. We played our hearts out, well for a little while; then we had to take a breather. Our victory was just getting out there to play.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been schooled in what I don’t know. The last time, was over a decade ago, when I was first getting into the web world. I'd entered a new job and a new coworker made it a point of showing me what I didn't know. A few years later when she was leaving for another job, she said, "Good job in hanging in there, I wouldn't have." I needed a job and I wanted to learn so I held on.

Playing soccer on a warm Sunday evening was very nice. There were families out watching, and it was a great way to wrap up the weekend. I’m looking forward to a season of soccer schooling, and of learning to play with my team. My boys are playing soccer in their age divisions as well, so it's going to get busy, but I'm looking forward to it.

Lessons From A Sunday Morning Run

2010-08-22T13:35:00.000-07:00

I started running with my boys on Sunday mornings at a forestry wilderness park. My husband has been running for years, and I was starting to join him more regularly, so we decided to take the boys out with us to see how they would do. I was hoping they wouldn't slow me down too much to get a good run in. To my surprise, Tony, my seven-year old youngest son, was a lot faster than I imagined. He's got a natural running stride that is light and quick. He ran along side me the whole way, practically running underneath my armpit. Every now and then I get reminded about just how much they have grown up. This was one of them. Running with my sons was a proud moment for me. We passed up bicyclist and hikers who were impressed they could venture out on this rugged six-mile trail at such a young age. I was most content because I knew what an awesome experience this was for all of us to be able to get up on a Sunday morning and run as a family.

The run was a lot tougher for me though. I struggled to keep up. How’s that for ironic! I felt like a brick running with legs. I huffed and puffed and fought to continue on the up hills, and picked up rhythm and energy on the steep down hills. I always feel best after a good downhill. I widen my arms for balance and allow the momentum to carry me forward. All the while, I watch my step since the trails are filled with rocks, mud, dirt, and uneven ground. I was beginning to feel really strong, powerful, and free like the type of runners who finish a marathon in around 3:15 time. All of a sudden I saw an insignificant rock on the ground about the size of my fist. I'd passed up bigger rocks all throughout my run, but this one made me slam my whole body into the ground. I hit my pubic bone, the right side of my chin cracked, and mud flew into my mouth. It's like that in life isn't it. We are extra careful during a big crisis, but get blind-sided and rattled by the far less significant everyday routine annoyances. I gasped lying on the floor. I could see only the shoes and calves of my 7-year who was being to rock from foot to foot. I shot back up. I didn't want him to internalize my fall and become fearful of running in anyway. I was up and running along side my young son, but my thoughts were different. I was still mulling over my fall lamenting and agonizing, "Why is it that whenever I start to feel free and like I'm going somewhere I fall literally flat on my face!" But, before I could even finish the sentence, I felt a greater truth speak to me from my heart. True freedom comes from being able to get yourself back up every time you get knocked down. I've come too far not to know this was true. It's a lesson I've been learning my whole life. "I get up each time I fall." I absorbed that thought, shook off any last sentiments, and continued running in stride breathing in deep and enjoying the freedom that comes with taking each new step.

Tobymac - Get Back Up

Museum of Sex

2010-08-04T07:10:00.000-07:00

On our trip to NYC back in May, my husband and I stopped by the Museum of Sex. We obviously had an interesting time then and afterwards, when we went back to our hotel room. It's definitely not a must do if you are visiting NYC, but if your hotel is a few blocks and you have the downtime--this is something to do.

The first floor exhibit, Action ’Sex And The Moving Image’, had a written narration that chronicled how sex and sexual images have impacted our visual mediums-TV, advertising, the big screen, and the Internet. Along each placard, there was a large or small screen that displayed a video referenced in the narration. In all honesty, my husband read through all the history, I had a hard time concentrating because of the images. I tried reading, but I was just too distracted to make sense of the words. So, I pretended to read just like I did when I was 4. I didn't want to look like the pervert that only looks at the pictures. There was a large flat screen laid out horizontally depicting group sessions. It was a little weird to be standing amongst strangers, male and female, watching porn.

On the second floor, there was an ongoing exhibit about The Sex Lives of Animals. I saw a video of a female bear masturbating. There was a male bear swaying back and forth on his feet nearby looking at her and contemplating when to move in. They looked so human and like something you would see in porn. I had never heard about bears doing "such things" but apparently it's all over Youtube.

There was also a section on fetishes, masochism, condoms, and STDs. Don't worry I won't show you any more videos. I saw disturbing objects and videos in the masochism section-things that would make you cringe and wonder why people would do something like that.

I enjoy going to all sorts of museums and love learning. I'm fascinated about the bizarre or unknown. I thought it was a little pricey at $16.75, but overall I'm glad we checked it out.

http://www.museumofsex.com/

233 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York
Sunday - Thursday: 10am - 8:00pm
Saturday: 10am - 9pm

Wrote First Short Story About My Life

2010-07-31T09:35:00.000-07:00

I wrote the first of a series of short stories about my life this morning. I did it freestyle by hand lying on my bed, while the kids were asleep, and my husband was out running. In this relaxed state, I can hear the words flow out of me and I capture them on paper. The next round is to type it up and edit it. And then share it with others to undergo a series of revisions, revisions, revisions.

I'll decide what to do with them once I have them all or mostly completed. I'm leaning towards self publishing to a book which I could design myself, or posting them on my blog if I get desperate. I'm writing my life in different chapters the way I see it, or saw it at the time, and my reconciliation of the events that happened. I've been haunted by these stories for years if not most of my adult life. It's like they want to be written and they show up all the time clouding my head while I'm cooking, driving, breathing. So far, I've written these stories mostly in my head, when I get an idea or a new phrase comes to me, I add it to my mental memory. For years, I would think but what are people going to think? I hadn't even written about them yet and I'm already in anguish over what the people I know, the ones I call friends and family, would think.

For the last few years, I had been religiously journaling, or what Julia Cameron calls doing my Morning Pages which consists of writing three full pages every morning upon waking. I filled three 1 inch hard bounded journal books. Writing three pages daily about the current on goings of my life helped my memory immensely. I wrote about my anticipation toward events. Then I wrote to remember moments and events. I posted the date and time on each entry so I was no longer completely lost as to what the date was. It gave me the discipline for years to get up every morning at 5 am to write. It was a great source to vent out any frustrations. Fast forward two years later though, and my husband began to ask what I was also beginning to ask myself more often. Where am I going with all of this? I knew I wanted a way to move forward but I didn't know how. I realized that I could spend the rest of my life time pouring my thoughts into those journals with no end or recognition in sight. Shortly, well maybe not time-wise, but definitely event-wise because nothing much had happened since then, I got a blog. Then by the click of one mouse, I learned about an Open Mic Night, and from that, about a coffee house. I went to writing workshops, and Open Mic Nights. I fell in love with the community of writers, poets, and musicians who dare to spill their souls. And then, I opened myself up to my new creative friend, Lisa from work. In the months that I've known her, I've eaten more new types of food, Persian, Indian, Thai.than I have in my life time. We laugh that we are eating our way through the city. She has a contagious zest for food, music, and life and it's rubbing off on me. All this was great momentum to get me started on my first pages towards something I've always wanted to do but never made any attempts.

I've gotten to the point where I don't care (as much) any more.It's harder not to write and to feel like a coward. I hide behind an alias. I know this first piece is still choppy but it has the potential to be at least decent.

Ted.com -- Ideas Worth Sharing

2010-07-24T09:43:00.000-07:00

I like listen to Ted.com (Ideas Worth Spreading) presentations while doing laundry. It has inspiring presentations on just about any subject. It's a great way to learn something new everyday. This talk by Ken Robinson stresses the importance of creativity.

I like to have unscheduled time during the weekends because I get to see my boys come up with all sorts of interesting ways to have fun and entertain themselves. They know already that when they tell me they are bored my usual response will be "Oh good! You're so lucky! That means we haven't over-scheduled ourselves. Now you get to decide what you want to do with your time." And, if they keep moping around the house, I tell them I could find ways to keep them busy by giving them some work to do. So I have seen them jump on boogie boards and slide down the stairs, I've seen spontaneous out burst of battles with swords, and all sorts of running around the house in costumes or not, jars of ants, praying mantis and frogs-things that would make some mothers cringe, and a house harder to keep up with. I move things out of the way, wrap pillows around the staircase posts, and I let them explore their creativity through their imaginations and play. Fortunately, my boys are more mellow than hyperactive, so often time it's more Legos and quiet play than mud or running around. (I'm the mellow one in the family so if it's not genetic, it's definitely social.) Sights of creative play and imagination make me happy because I know my boys are getting what I had, a childhood.

Peeling Back The Layers

2010-07-14T00:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when we hurt it leaves layers of scars much like an onion. When we decide to forgive and really feel it in our hearts, it's as refreshing as a new haircut. Then one day, we come across a part of the scar that is still there. We wonder why it's still there-then we realize this time we have to forgive ourselves for being so stupid or naive. In really deep scars, there's the incident itself. The layer of being angry about why things have to happen in the first place and a longing for a justification of some sort. That layer too must go, if we are to heal.

I do a visualization technique which helps me peel back the layers. I just find that sometimes when I get too busy for an extended period of time, things start to build up-the annoyances, disappointments, and frustrations. When I'm relaxed and centered, I can let things go pretty easily. But, when I've been running on near empty for too long, depleting my own natural resourcefulness, I need to refuel. I imagine sending the people I'm worried or angry with, or even myself up an escalator to God. If it's an incident, I visualize the scenario and throw it in a box, close it quick and send it up the conveyor belt along with the others. It helps! I always had a hard time grasping the concept of forgiveness. It was something you hear, and you know you need it but no one ever really clarifies how you do it with words or actions (at least not to me). And, my thoughts certainly weren't taking me there. So, I found this the easiest way for me to move on, and forgive. I'm very visual so this works for me. If you got really big issues, start with the small ones first. Pick the annoying coworker, and wave as you send him off. I bet next time you see him in the office, if you did it right, you won't feel the usual cringe you used to when you saw him. If you're atheist, you can visually send them off to another galaxy. I mentioned the layers because if something is still sticking after doing this, then you have to look at the incident from the various angles and peel back each one of the layers. Acknowledge them and send them away.

The Versatile Blogger Award

2010-07-07T19:12:00.000-07:00

I received my first blog award from fellow blogger and new friend, Catherine Winn of The Writing Room. It comes with the following five rules.

1. Thank those who loved me enough to bestow this gift. --Done
2. Share seven things about myself. --See below
3. Bestow this honour onto 15 newly discovered or followed bloggers – in no particular order – who are fantastic in some way. --I'll do 5
4. Drop by and let my fifteen new friends know I love them.
5. Any rule may be modified by any recipient for any reason. --I reduced it to 5

2. Seven things about myself:
* I'm the middle child (well of 6)
* My favorite mixed alcoholic drink is Midori Sour (It's a green lemony/sour drink)
* I work part time to spend more time with my kids
* Favorite wine is Lambrusco (sweet well-priced red wine)
* I have a phobia of fire
* Favorite fruit: Watermelon (It's always good, refreshing and I don't get tired of it)
* Would I rather be a photographer or model? That's easy... photographer of course

I'm a big believer in paying it forward. My Versatile Blogger Awards go to:

* Patty Godinez of The Blowing Branches - I learn something new and insightful every time I visit.

* Single and Thirty-Something - I like to drop in and see what single-thirty-something is up to, especially since I'm thirty-something and married.

* Nikki from bottledsky.com for having an a great relationship with awesome parents, and for having a cute and creative blog site which she designed herself.

* Elvia from WritingsBeneathMyTongue for her sultry writing.

* Catherine A. Winn from The Writing Room - For insightful lessons of a writer's life.

Back2TheGrind

2010-06-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

It's been a month exactly since I last posted. Ideally, I would be updating my blog weekly with the progress I've been making. I'm just about finished with a pressing project that was suddenly do at work. Nothing like a little work stress to derail me of my best intentions. With the added stress and web programming at work, the last thing I wanted was to come home and be on the computer again. So, I took my kids to the park in the evenings, came back from a trip to NYC, watched outstanding world soccer games, went to a Wild Womyn Writers Workshop, and an Open Mic Night at Back2TheGrind in downtown Riverside.

Monday Night Open Mic @ Back2TheGrind

It was my first time reading some of my poetry in front of such a large group. There must have been at least 50 people. We filled the basement of the coffee house. I'd been wanting to go for weeks just to check it out, but things kept coming up. Finally, I dragged a close friend along and we drove past our city limits leaving our comfort zones behind. We had every intention to present something that night even though we had written nothing. We got there early, ordered a coffee, and shared one of their yummy sandwiches. We crafted something as we waited in the basement for the crowds to arrive. At night 9pm, we let them know it was our very first time and we signed up. My self doubt crept in several times that night. It was there as I listened to the musicians and poets present, and when I went to the bathroom. "You know if we leave now we don't have to do it" my inner critic persisted, "it's probably filled with clichés". I reminded my inner critic that I sent her off to a Buddhist retreat in the Himalayas, and then reassured myself that I would be fine. I went up there when they called my name and sat on the chair one leg underneath me as I cleared my nervous voice and began to read off what I had written on a napkin. "I have to own this. I have to take my time and do it right", I thought as I started. I had read my work too quickly at the Wild Womyn Writers Workshop. (At the workshop, we talked about owning our words and not rushing through things.) So this time, I took my time. Line by line I undressed the intimacy of my thoughts in my writing. They liked it. They clapped and cheered. Everyone was very welcoming and supportive. Before I began they had reassured me they didn't bite. I did rush getting back to my seat as if I had just completely undressed and clasped my naked clothes in my chest as I left the stage. I had done it though. And I was hooked. As much as it was exhilarating to present, it was even more awesome to be a part of that night and watch others in there element share their craft. I enjoy being inspired by others. Best of all it's free! It's a coffee house so you do want to be respectful and but there is no cover charge. They plan to start at 8:30 pm to accommodate the growing list of presenters.

Riverside Underground Poetry Organization - RUPO Poetry
Mondays 8:30pm-10:30pm in the basement of Back2TheGrind
3575 University Ave
Riverside, CA , 92501

(951) 784-0800
www.back2thegrind.com

Theme Song: Think Tank - "Clarity"

Soccer Mom

2010-05-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

We just ended our fourth season of soccer for our boys. This time it ended in victory with our three boys winning the Championship games in their age divisions. Did I mention my husband was the headcoach for two of the teams, and assisted for the other? We've spent the last few months running in and out of the house as early as 7am on Saturdays to enjoy a full day of three soccer games. Our three boys have natural sweeper defense instincts. They hang in the back and then boot the ball back to the other side of the field when the opposing offenders try to score. They play for a small new community league where we know the other boys in the league because they've played in our son's team seasons ago. We can't help to feel happy for some of those boys who score against our team. We know their story and what it means to them. For the Championship games I made cupcakes to celebrate. Homemade cupcakes and there were no warnings from a National Headquarter office warning us to get flu vaccinations, just kids and families having fun.

I play in a coed soccer team as well. They are casual scrimmages but it's still competitive. Before I ever started playing, I would stare at the players while on my walk. They would invite me to play and I wondered what it would be like. I hadn't played since I was 10. I enjoyed playing. I liked chasing after the ball and players since I was smaller and more agile than the girls who bloomed before I did. I played soccer until they elected me to be goalie and I got kicked in the face with the soccer ball right on my glasses. I never played soccer after that. It wasn't so much because it hurt but rather because I was humiliated. They laughed and poked fun of me wearing glasses. Back then that was all it took to deter me.

So when I finally accepted the invitation to play, I wore regular running shoes and borrowed my oldest son's chin guards. I don't remember much about that first game I played with them but I do remember I liking it. I was hooked. My dabbling at half marathons had given me the confidence that I can hang in there and run. I knew I could at least play defense. Now I like soccer more than running because it provides a fun reason to do the running.

I've learned a lot from soccer. It's taught me how to zone in and focus on the moment. There are times when I am playing and I am in the zone and I'm able to seize the ball from a player or kick it while it's in the air between their running stride. I have no idea how I did it. I just did. I learned that you can't be thinking about what you are trying get your body to do, that you have to get your fumbling mind out of it, and just focus on the ball and let your body do what it wants to do. Knowing that, I don't always play well. In a single game, I am in and out of the moment. If only I could maintain laser like focus throughout my life as well as in soccer. I forget and take my eyes off the ball and I go for the player instead. My misdirection deceives me in life as it does in soccer. Sometimes I don't get to the zone at all. It always helps when I center myself and I ask God, My Creator, to help me focus, have a good game, and keep me safe. I don't feel I'm being selfish asking for help because I believe God is infinite and living in all things at the same time. So when I choose to center myself at a moment, it doesn't take away from that of something else. I'm learning to apply the principals I learned from playing soccer to all areas of my life to get out of my own way, just do it, feel it, and own it.

Theme Song: Sanctus Real - Lead Me

2010-05-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

I came out to the balcony to write. I felt like being a little creative and working on a project. Outside I can feel the breeze and hear the waterfall and birds chirping. The wind rustles the tall palm tree branches and they make a nice soothing symphony.

I've debated what to do with these small pockets of time I come across. They come more often now. I'm not working on a book or movie. I blog, I read, I post slideshows of my pictures. I have time for small projects like that. I like writing feature pieces on places or events that inspire me as a way of sharing with the world something I found and would recommend.

I'm kind of working on moving towards that next step of actually being published in a magazine or as part of a collection of poems or short stories. [There I said it.] I'm just putting it out there in the universe. I thought I would have had to ramble another paragraph or so before I finally came out to say it. You hear all these wonderful stories of things just falling into place when your dreams are in line with your actions and you are moving towards them. So here I go, taking baby step by baby step towards an invisible goal. I someday do want to write a book of my life but for now, maybe I'll just begin with some short stories. While I'm at it... I'm also seeking a writing mentor. I've been surrounded by engineers and teachers most of my life but I have yet to know a professional writer personally. I've been blessed with three young boys. I'm thoroughly enjoying this time of my life with them. My youngest is now 7 and I'm just beginning to ask myself what I'll ever do with this writing. For now, it's a creative outlet.

Theme Music: Britt Nicole Walk On Water (The Lost Get Found)

Poetry From the Streets

2010-05-08T06:46:00.000-07:00

Picture from the Spoken Word Event in Downtown Riverside, CA

I had the most amazing night on Thursday at this Spoken Word event held in downtown Riverside, CA. On a cool and breezy California night, about a dozen male and female artists took their turn at the microphone and serenaded us with their poetry from a second story balcony on the Culver Center of the Arts building. The selection of artists were as varied as their topics, from booty calls, to Arizona laws, to the art of writing. A good size crowd gathered below to watch, listen and be inspired. I felt surrounded by the common element that united each of us in that moment, our love for the written word. I looked around the supportive crowd of young and old, and breathed it all in to channel as a source of creative inspiration for later use. I couldn't have felt more at home.

Verbal Coliseum Spoken Word is part of a countdown series to the Culver Center of the Arts Gala Opening. For the next 5 months, on the first Thursday of the month, poets, rappers, and/or dance artist come out to perform from 7-9pm for this free event.

The May 6 performance featured HBO Def Poets, Joe Hernandez-Kolski (aka Pocho Joe) and Besskepp (Cory Cofer), along with local poets, MCs, soap boxers, and rhyme-sayers. Busdriver Experimental Hip Hop is headlining the June 3 event.

Countdown to Culver
June 3, July 1, August 5, September 2, October 7
7-9 PM FREE
3834 Main Street (Downtown)
Riverside, CA 92507
www.culvercenter.ucr.edu

Art As A Healer of Stumped Emotions

2010-05-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

I've been drawing more Manga Characters since I bought my first art book, Draw Manga by Christopher Hart, back in April. Since then, I have put together a slideshow on Associated Content where I'm building a small community of fans. It's encouraging to receive their feedback. I can tell it's time for me to draw, write, or blog again because I start getting a little cranky or irritable if I haven't been creative in more than a week. I don't know why I didn't realize this sooner. I always blamed my edginess on my busyness but never on my lack of practicing and honoring my creative spirit. I am a creative type. I'm also gifted analytically. I went the analytical route in my most of my career and life. Returning to my art is always a treat, like a fresh piece of fruit after eating a heavy marbled steak. I need my artistic veggies to help me digest what life throws at me sometimes. I liked this Magna character the best because it most accurately captures my spirit. I grew up wearing glasses, usually have my hair gathered, wear bangs, and my eye brows are slightly mismatched due to my own plucking, but with eyes wide open. It's my avatar.

NYC Here I Come

2010-05-04T22:13:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited about my up coming trip to NYC, I can barely sit still. I hope it will be a wonderfully unforgettable experience for us. I'm going with my husband, sisters, and a friend. I'm most excited about visiting Central Park. I plan to jog with my husband to and around Central Park from our hotel. The trip is still weeks away but I'm planning and buying tour tickets now. I'm hoping to dive into the NYC culture and just soak it all up. The street performers, hurried crowds, surrounding sky scrappers, the food, the fashion, the architecture. If NYC is the city that never sleeps, then I'd say I come from the city that takes afternoon naps. Nappy and relaxed just like the lion in the picture.

Theme Song: Sound of Kauai

Hello Lover!!!

2010-04-23T20:01:00.000-07:00

Sex N The City introduced us to a character Carrie Bradshaw who was in love with a big city-NYC. On the other side of the country, along a different coast, there's a lady in love with her whole state, California! "Hello Lover!!!" I breathe as I walk, bike, or jog through one of its many parks. I love to live as a tourist in my own state, and city. Ever since I can remember, I've gone places and took my camera with me photographing everything that caught my eye. I'm just beginning to open up the vault and share my pictures. They've been sitting on my hard drive for years.

I recently read an article in Westways about a women who did a weekend walking vacation with a friend and walked from Hermosa Beach to Malibu. They walked about twelve miles each day and stayed at nice hotels to rest for the night. Every once in a while I come across people, books, or articles that blow my mind with a new idea of what is possible, or a new venture (a subculture) of something I have yet to try. Why didn't I ever think of that! I started brainstorming how I could do this by the end of this summer.

At the time California is in the media a lot for it's fiscal troubles, the hillsides boast the most amazing colors. I'm thoroughly enjoying Spring.

2010-04-21T05:46:00.000-07:00

It's raining again in the Inland Empire. A light rain but still enough to trigger at least one car accident and a road closure. I wrote and submitted this back in March to TextBroker.com back when I was thinking of writing for them. It got a level 3 ranking.

Nestled between hills on all its borders, the Inland Empire, California is an idyllic place in the springtime with it's neighboring hilltops enveloped in thick flourishing carpets of green. It has been a long season of rain and the only good thing to come out of it is the lush hillsides. Some how despite all the rain, the I.E. is still in a drought. The rain may have stopped and car accidents may have dwindled for now, but fortunately, the hills are still green. I'm reminded of that on my way to pick up my kids from school each day, two stops on opposite ends of the city. My kids, the books on tape, Andrea Bocelli CD, and the panoramic green hill sides are what make this daily chore pleasant and enjoyable. In a few weeks these giants of lush will fade revert back into their irrelevant shades of brown. Once again I’ll look beyond those dry desert hills toward the sky in search of something beautiful.

Random Acts of Kindess

2010-04-17T06:21:00.000-07:00

I've recently witnessed some random acts of kindness while out driving around my area. I thought I should mention because they were nice examples of how we can be kind to one another.

I was stopped at a light and witnessed a lady run out of her car towards the car in front of her. I was about to lock my car door when I saw that she screwed on the gas cap and closed the gas door since the owner had been absent-minded enough to drive away like that.

An older couple raced across a street holding hands as they tired to make it before the light turns red. The gentleman looked very chivalrous extending his arm to his partner.

There's a couple of married homeless couples in my city that I'm familiar with. I've seen one of the couples sit on a bench outside a grocery store. They carry a makeshift cart and their dog on it. They don't ask for change. They make their way through the city collecting bottles. I've seen them both poke their fingers into the coin-despensor of the remaining public phone in our area. As I've approached to help them a few times, I see the sort of camaraderie in them as you'd expect to see in couples who live more comfortably. They are happy with each other. On my way to work one morning, I saw the other homeless couple I'm familiar with. I saw the woman struggling to walk, it looked like the shoes were hurting her. Her partner was carrying what seemed to be two heavy bags. She reached the bus stop bench and sat in exhaustion. As he approached her he appeared to be very concerned. I caught a final glimpse of them on the bench together as the light turned green and I drove away.

On Detoxing from Mainstream TV

2010-04-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

I haven't watched TV in at least year and half (probably a lot longer). Occasionally I'll watch a Netflix movie or go out to a movie or drive-in. Even as a kid, I found TV shows to be predictable and I couldn't stand that queued up laughter or commercials. I played outside instead. I listen to KPFK, listener sponsored radio, to stay informed of what's going on in the world. Turns out I'm not missing much considering that nothing of what really matters is being covered by the Mainstream Media/Corporate Media News. I occasionally come across a blaring TV at a pizza place or electronics store and see Tiger Woods on the evening news. I break a smile and think how ridiculous it that Tiger would even make it to the news considering all the international and local news that is being covered at KPFK. At this point, it doesn't make me mad or cynical. I've lost my detachment from a lot of things (like Ekhart Tolle writes about in a New Earth... I am an avid reader) so I just observe. Going to the stores has felt different too. I walk into a store and see the boxes and objects and can no longer recall quirky slogans or gin-gals that have been associated to those objects. There's no pull to those objects or much familiarity to them that I remember they once had. My Ah Moment came when some one asked me what kind of running shoes I was wearing (when I bought the shoes I picked out whatever fit best) but I didn't recognize the logo any more. (It wasn't the Nike Swish but it was another popular brand.) I don't know the names of the latest TV stars and shows but I do feel more centered and I have more time for projects I enjoy. I also don't feel compelled to buy anything or feel like I'm missing something. It's been a wonderful detox and I hardly ever watched in the first place.

We do have a TV at home but it only has the basic channels. My kids grew up without watching much TV (just an hour on the weekends to watch a cartoon movie while I made breakfast--not on a daily basis). When they do watch a movie or even more rarely TV, they themselves quickly turn it off after a show (most of the time, they are still kids you know). I have stepped back to see how long they would watch if I don't say anything, and to my relief they do turn it off themselves after a show.They are active creative boys. I know in today's society we can feel helpless as parents when we see all that is going on in the world. But your home is your home and these are your four walls. I once read an article online that advised taking exquisite control of your home environment as a parent. I would take my boys to the park or leave my house half undone to play with them to keep them busy. I tried not to make stern rules but rather to shift the focus on what we do want. So when I see them getting restless I take them to the park so they don't get bored at home bored and then turn on the tube. It wasn't as hard as one would image to keep the bad influence out... if you fill it with the positive influences instead.When my boys wanted an XBox for their birthdays I ordered the Lego Magazine by mail and when it came in they immediately changed their minds about what they wanted as I knew they would.

The TV is the Matrix, not just for the commercials and the superficial news that they inundate with but the TV shows themselves. The drama, characters, and story lines that reinforce ideas that are everything but the right way to really live. The banner ads online don't have nearly the same effect as TV and when I do get an annoying video ad on the computer I'm sitting right there so I can turn off the volume or visit another website for the same content easily enough.

An example of this is when my kids were younger they freaked out the first time I ever played them the movie E.T. I remembered liking it as a kid so I figured they'd enjoy it too. The thing gave them nightmares because they hadn't been exposed to lunch boxes, collectibles, and trailers of a cute and friendly E.T.a head of time. Instead they saw an alien on TV with huge eyes and long fingers and it just freaked them out. We become conditioned to the images we see on TV and we come to accept them as a way of life

A Road Back To Me

2010-04-12T07:13:00.000-07:00

Sunday Night Family Art Circle

I discovered I still have a long lost talent that I thought I probably no longer had. I went to the art store yesterday and bought paper, watercolor pencils, markers, and art instruction books to do art as a family and also to give my kids something to do on their downtime. I keep hearing how schools are not pushing out the arts and other essential skill and instead teaching for the test so it's more important than ever for kids to get art at home. I brought this Draw Manga Drawing Kit book was able to draw the images rather easily. My boys each picked a character from the book for me to draw for them. It was cute seeing the personality of each one is reflected in the character they selected. I forgot how relaxing it is. I guess my journey right now is a journey back to me... getting back to doing the things I once loved doing and doing them often enough to keep it up and get better at it.

So what's with the title???

2010-04-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

Ebbed on by my sister to get a blog... I find myself on my bed in my room registering for a blog faced with my most challenging decision of day. What should I call it? This A Girl Name Eve idea came to my mind earlier in the day when I was reading through my sister's and her friend's blog. They're the artsy creative type of writers whose words spill like poetry. I'm still trying to break out of my analytical side.

Anyways, this blog is dedicated to our first lady... Eve. Whether you believe in the Big Bang or Garden of Eden idea.... it really doesn't matter. At some point there must have been a female human species that started it all. That did it all her own without a sister to call, or a group of female friends to take a girls night out with. She had no other female to vent with. She was our first mother. First wife, our first lady. This one's for you Eve.

I feel that in a way we are all just like Eve venturing on our own in maybe just that one way where we have found that nobody else quite understands us, or that maybe we still haven't understood about selves. There are times when no matter how great of a support system system of friends, soulmates, and family, we have, there's some journeys we have to initiate on our own. The goal is not to stay there alone, hopefully. But at least by beginning on our own terms we're more likely to have set off on the right journey.