"It takes no compromising to give people their rights. It takes no money to respect the individual. It takes no survey to remove repressions." - Harvey Milk
I'm sad to write that I'm truly disappointed with my country on this day. This day, which started out so promisingly with the announcement that President Obama had selected a liberal Hispanic woman, Judge Sonia Sotomayor, to be the next US Supreme Court Justice was tainted by the damnable decision of the California State Supreme Court to uphold Proposition 8, which defines marriage as the union of a man and a woman and thus denies legal recognition and protection to same sex unions.
I have to admit that I've missed living in a so-called "blue state" for the past couple of years. California, which I used to think was so much more liberal, so much more enlightened than some of the so-called "bible-belt" states has proven itself to be just as ignorant, just as conservative and perhaps even more hypocritical than the red states. The liberal west coast loves gays in the entertainment and fashion industry, just not enough to extend them the same rights as straights.
I found my own identity and consciousness as a bisexual woman around the same age as I found my identity as a Chicana and I've never had to think twice about defending the rights of my gay, lesbian and transgender friends to enjoy the same freedoms and protections I enjoyed. It's sad that even as President Obama makes one giant step forward and leads our country towards a brighter future (yes, I'll admit that I was wrong about him - he makes me proud and happy to eat my own words), narrow minded bigots beholden to the social conservative Neanderthal constituency insist on dragging us two steps backwards.
Shame on you, cowardly Justices of the California State Supreme Court. My fellow Californians, I urge you to take to the streets and let your voices be heard! In the words of Harvey Milk, hope will never be silent!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Belated Mother's Day Post
This snapshot is from one of the old photo albums that my mother saved. I'm guessing this photo was taken in late 1978 or early 1979. Michael Gira (later of Swans and Angels of Light), me and Rick Jaffe/Morrison (BPeople, Catholic Discipline) are sitting on the steps outside my parent's house on Ditman Avenue in East LA. We were all experimenting with new musical styles by this time as early punk was splintering into post punk, dance, noise and hardcore.
The reason I've chosen to post this photo is that it reminds me of my mother, who was always warm and hospitable to my friends when they came to visit and hang out with me. She's probably in the kitchen while we're posing for this photo, whipping up some bean and cheese burritos to feed my hungry friends. She never made anyone feel strange or unwelcome simply because they had crazy colored hair or wore clothing that was considered "weird" at that time.
I'm very grateful to my mother for being so supportive and caring. If I hadn't had her and my father's unconditional love, I'm not sure how my life would have turned out.
Happy Belated Mother's Day to all the loving mothers out there.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Keep On Trekkin'
OK, I'll admit it. I can't wait to see the new Star Trek movie being released tomorrow. I've been a fan of the adventures of the Starship Enterprise since I was a young girl and I've never quite gotten over my childhood crush on Mr. Spock. I mean, what sensitive young female could possibly resist that tormented half-vulcan, half-human psyche hidden behind an (almost) impenetrable mask of stoicism? The infallible use of logic in the midst of chaos, the one eyebrow raised to indicate bafflement or surprise, the pointy ears with the bowl haircut and the (swoon) tapered sideburns?
But the hottest crew member hands down was Lieutenant Uhura, who helped define what it meant to be a strong, sexy woman for young girls like me. She wasn't just a sex kitten; as the ship's communications officer, she was smart and in control and quite possibly one of the first true feminist role models on TV.
It's probably obvious to people of my generation, but Star Trek is arguably one of the most influential cultural touchstones of the past fifty years. Sure, there have been more critically acclaimed plays, books, films and television shows during that time, but I can't think of one that touched on issues of war and peace, racial and gender equality, good and evil, the merits of unbridled technological advancement, the very nature of reality and the universe like Star Trek did. Perhaps Twilight Zone but that series never had the staying power of Kirk and co.
So I'm looking forward to seeing the early stories of some of my favorite fictional characters. I'll take my daughter of course and I'll bet you that she falls in love with Spock by the time we leave the theatre.
Live long and prosper,
Alice
But the hottest crew member hands down was Lieutenant Uhura, who helped define what it meant to be a strong, sexy woman for young girls like me. She wasn't just a sex kitten; as the ship's communications officer, she was smart and in control and quite possibly one of the first true feminist role models on TV.
It's probably obvious to people of my generation, but Star Trek is arguably one of the most influential cultural touchstones of the past fifty years. Sure, there have been more critically acclaimed plays, books, films and television shows during that time, but I can't think of one that touched on issues of war and peace, racial and gender equality, good and evil, the merits of unbridled technological advancement, the very nature of reality and the universe like Star Trek did. Perhaps Twilight Zone but that series never had the staying power of Kirk and co.
So I'm looking forward to seeing the early stories of some of my favorite fictional characters. I'll take my daughter of course and I'll bet you that she falls in love with Spock by the time we leave the theatre.
Live long and prosper,
Alice
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Bring On The Heat
It’s been over a month since I’ve posted anything on my blog and it’s finally time for me to get back into the habit. Six months of almost daily writing while I was working on my Violence Girl stories really took a toll on me and I was very much looking forward to a nice long break upon finishing, so I guess you could say I treated myself to some time off for good behavior. In the meantime, I’ve kept myself busy with lots of baking and cooking, sewing an Elizabethan outfit for my daughter to wear to a school presentation and plenty of daily walks in the increasingly hot mornings and evenings.
It’s the time of year when Phoenix starts to heat up and the reptiles come out of hiding. So far I’ve seen rattlesnakes, a huge white lizard that scared the hell out of me and either a king snake or a coral snake; I was too busy screaming and hopping around to be able to tell the difference. It did have lots of yellow along with the red and black and I vaguely remember something about "Red and yellow, kill a fellow..." but all in all, I would say that I’ve adjusted well to desert life.
I’ve learned that a lot of the plants and animals living in the Sonoran Desert are naturally more dangerous than anything I grew up with in the city; they have to be tough just to survive in this arid environment. A couple of friends from LA, Colin and Jessee came out to scan some of my punk collection for the UCLA archives over the past few days. As we were walking through my neighborhood I told them about the jumping cholla, a type of cactus that is rumored to literally jump onto animals that get too close. They didn't believe me and insisted on seeing it so I walked them over to one, whereupon my friend Jessee went right up to it and called out to the cholla "Put up your dukes!" He bounced around a little like a prize cactus boxer but while he was looking the other way, the cholla bit him in the butt, attaching itself to his denim pants. The plant seemed to have launched two or three little cactus grenades at Jessee who made the mistake of trying to brush them away with his hand. He was visibly in pain.
"See, I told you," I grinned at him. Colin came over from where he'd been inspecting the other side of the cholla.
"Aww...I missed it, do it again!" he told Jessee.
"Fuck you, you try it, you wuss! Go on, you do it now, see if it bites you!" But Colin declined, pronouncing that he was now a firm believer in the legendary jumping cholla. The poor guy walked home with a bloody hand and liitle barbed spines sticking out of the tops of his fingers, pants and shoes. We all walked back to my house with Jessee holding his porcupine hand up like a spiny Edward Scissorhands. The patient required two shots of vodka before allowing us to removed the fish hook-like barbed spines from his fingers and from under his fingernails with a pair of pliers, "Count to three, OK? Just hold it... don't pull it yet!" he pleaded with me and Colin through red, watery eyes. We eventually got the nasty little pricks but we practically had to sit on him to get him to hold still.
Round One went to the cactus but Jessee cursed and promised he'd take revenge by peeing on it the next day. We advised him against it and the thought of a second attack from the Cholla on an even more sensitive part of his body was no doubt a strong deterrent.
The next day my city friends accompanied me on my dog walk again and as we walked on the opposite side of the street from the Jumping Cholla, Colin and I swore we could hear the cactus laughing and calling out to Jessee, "Why you walking on that side today?" So believe me when I say you should never, ever pick a fight with a jumping cholla cactus.
We are still in the process of editing and rewriting my autobiographical series, The True Life Adventures of Violence Girl. Several exciting developments have come out of my writing of Violence Girl but the most exciting and rewarding has been one that was completely unexpected. After almost thirty years of not speaking with my old friend Patricia, we are once again in regular email contact with each other. It took the process of writing about the breakup of the Bags to force me to examine my own motives and actions and to admit my own fault in the messy breakup. That led to our reconciliation, for which I am so very grateful. As difficult as I found the process of writing this book, every second of it was worth it because I have my old friend back.
Realizing that one can still change at age 50, that there is still time to learn from one’s mistakes - that’s the real reward of writing for me and so I’ll continue to blog on my Diary of a Bad Housewife.
It’s the time of year when Phoenix starts to heat up and the reptiles come out of hiding. So far I’ve seen rattlesnakes, a huge white lizard that scared the hell out of me and either a king snake or a coral snake; I was too busy screaming and hopping around to be able to tell the difference. It did have lots of yellow along with the red and black and I vaguely remember something about "Red and yellow, kill a fellow..." but all in all, I would say that I’ve adjusted well to desert life.
I’ve learned that a lot of the plants and animals living in the Sonoran Desert are naturally more dangerous than anything I grew up with in the city; they have to be tough just to survive in this arid environment. A couple of friends from LA, Colin and Jessee came out to scan some of my punk collection for the UCLA archives over the past few days. As we were walking through my neighborhood I told them about the jumping cholla, a type of cactus that is rumored to literally jump onto animals that get too close. They didn't believe me and insisted on seeing it so I walked them over to one, whereupon my friend Jessee went right up to it and called out to the cholla "Put up your dukes!" He bounced around a little like a prize cactus boxer but while he was looking the other way, the cholla bit him in the butt, attaching itself to his denim pants. The plant seemed to have launched two or three little cactus grenades at Jessee who made the mistake of trying to brush them away with his hand. He was visibly in pain.
"See, I told you," I grinned at him. Colin came over from where he'd been inspecting the other side of the cholla.
"Aww...I missed it, do it again!" he told Jessee.
"Fuck you, you try it, you wuss! Go on, you do it now, see if it bites you!" But Colin declined, pronouncing that he was now a firm believer in the legendary jumping cholla. The poor guy walked home with a bloody hand and liitle barbed spines sticking out of the tops of his fingers, pants and shoes. We all walked back to my house with Jessee holding his porcupine hand up like a spiny Edward Scissorhands. The patient required two shots of vodka before allowing us to removed the fish hook-like barbed spines from his fingers and from under his fingernails with a pair of pliers, "Count to three, OK? Just hold it... don't pull it yet!" he pleaded with me and Colin through red, watery eyes. We eventually got the nasty little pricks but we practically had to sit on him to get him to hold still.
Round One went to the cactus but Jessee cursed and promised he'd take revenge by peeing on it the next day. We advised him against it and the thought of a second attack from the Cholla on an even more sensitive part of his body was no doubt a strong deterrent.
The next day my city friends accompanied me on my dog walk again and as we walked on the opposite side of the street from the Jumping Cholla, Colin and I swore we could hear the cactus laughing and calling out to Jessee, "Why you walking on that side today?" So believe me when I say you should never, ever pick a fight with a jumping cholla cactus.
We are still in the process of editing and rewriting my autobiographical series, The True Life Adventures of Violence Girl. Several exciting developments have come out of my writing of Violence Girl but the most exciting and rewarding has been one that was completely unexpected. After almost thirty years of not speaking with my old friend Patricia, we are once again in regular email contact with each other. It took the process of writing about the breakup of the Bags to force me to examine my own motives and actions and to admit my own fault in the messy breakup. That led to our reconciliation, for which I am so very grateful. As difficult as I found the process of writing this book, every second of it was worth it because I have my old friend back.
Realizing that one can still change at age 50, that there is still time to learn from one’s mistakes - that’s the real reward of writing for me and so I’ll continue to blog on my Diary of a Bad Housewife.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Last Entry of Violence Girl
I've posted the final entry of True Life Adventures of Violence Girl, my online autobiography project today at www.chicaviolenta.blogspot.com. We've already taken down the first half of the entries; the second half will come down in a week or so. I will not be reposting any of this work in the foreseeable future, so please check it out now if you are at all curious.
Thanks again and I'll be back to writing on my Diary of a Bad Housewife blog in no time at all!
Alice
Thanks again and I'll be back to writing on my Diary of a Bad Housewife blog in no time at all!
Alice
Monday, March 02, 2009
Coming Into The Home Stretch
Half a year ago, I unwittingly embarked on a journey of self-discovery when I began what I thought would be a fairly straightforward project: writing a storyline for a comic book called Violence Girl, loosely based on my experiences as a punk musician. As with most journeys taken without a road map, I had a vague notion of where I was heading but no idea of how to actually get from Point A to Point B. I just got in the vehicle and naturally headed towards East LA: my birthplace, the place where my mother, father and half-sister are buried and the place I will always consider home.
Six months of almost daily writing have passed and I find myself on the final leg of my journey. Strangely enough, it feels like I’ve been to hell and back when the truth is I haven’t left the familiar surroundings of my home in the desert north of Phoenix. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved that the end is in sight. I’m 50 this year and my story only covers the first two and half decades of my life, a time when I discovered the world, life, love and death. I lived and discovered so much in those years but it took the writing of this book to make the biggest discovery – me. Writing about my childhood forced me to look in the darkest corners of my memory where the monsters were hidden. Writing about my adult relationships made me realize how much I’d been affected by my own parents’ examples. It was as if I was seeing myself clearly for the first time and I didn’t always like what I saw.
As I said before, I’m looking forward to typing the final words on the final page of Violence Girl. It’s my sincere hope that someone out there who is dealing with their own monsters will recognize a bit of themselves in Violence Girl and know that there is a way out of the darkness.
Starting this week, we will be taking down all of my previous posts starting with East LA Bobsleds and working forward. Over the next few weeks, the entire Violence Girl series will come down permanently for more editing and revisions. Thank you to everyone who joined me for the ride.
Six months of almost daily writing have passed and I find myself on the final leg of my journey. Strangely enough, it feels like I’ve been to hell and back when the truth is I haven’t left the familiar surroundings of my home in the desert north of Phoenix. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved that the end is in sight. I’m 50 this year and my story only covers the first two and half decades of my life, a time when I discovered the world, life, love and death. I lived and discovered so much in those years but it took the writing of this book to make the biggest discovery – me. Writing about my childhood forced me to look in the darkest corners of my memory where the monsters were hidden. Writing about my adult relationships made me realize how much I’d been affected by my own parents’ examples. It was as if I was seeing myself clearly for the first time and I didn’t always like what I saw.
As I said before, I’m looking forward to typing the final words on the final page of Violence Girl. It’s my sincere hope that someone out there who is dealing with their own monsters will recognize a bit of themselves in Violence Girl and know that there is a way out of the darkness.
Starting this week, we will be taking down all of my previous posts starting with East LA Bobsleds and working forward. Over the next few weeks, the entire Violence Girl series will come down permanently for more editing and revisions. Thank you to everyone who joined me for the ride.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Ruta 66 Entrevista
I was interviewed at length several months ago by Alberto Lodeiros for the Barcelona-based rock magazine, Ruta 66. The interview was published in their December issue but I only recently received a copy in the mail here in Arizona.
Ruta 66 is a beautiful rock mag, full of great writing and full color photos. It's much more mainstream than the magazines I'm typically featured in. Since I'm not one of the better known punk musicians from my era, I was happy that Alberto took the time to research his subject and send me some very insightful and thought provoking questions. I did find it odd (to say the least) to see my name on the cover alongside Sir Paul McCartney. I showed it to my 14 year old daughter who is a huge Beatles fan because I thought she would be impressed. She smiled faintly and said "oh yeah, that's cool" in a flat voice. Then she went back to the latest M.I.A. remix on her Ipod...
Here are just a few of the questions and answers. Ruta 66 did a great job of translating my English answers to Spanish, but I'm lazy and will let you translate Alberto's questions from Spanish to English. It will give you some idea of what it's like to be a Spanish-only speaking student in an English immersion class.
31.En 1981 decides abandonar todo aquello, coincidiendo con la entrada
de la heroína en la escena Punk. ¿Hasta qué punto crees que las drogas
ayudaron a acelerar la muerte del Punk?
Punk isn't dead, it's just changed. Punk is more than a type of music,
it's an attitude that transcends time and space. The thing that did
end was the Hollywood scene as it had once been. I think drugs
contributed to it but I don't know if that type of situation where
everything was open and welcoming and creative could have lasted
forever. Change is inevitable and necessary.
32.Bandas como las Go Gos salieron del circuito underground y
vendieron miles de discos. ¿Por qué crees que otras bandas muy
superiores a ellas musicalmente no salieron de aquello?
The Go-Go's were marketable in ways that some other bands were not.
Not only were they cute, stylish young girls, they played upbeat
energetic pop. I don't think their music was inferior to anyone
else's. I think music is a matter of taste and if punk was about
anything it was about obliterating the whole idea of musical
superiority. Their music was different and more commercial but the
girls were true to themselves.
33.He visto algún video delirante de Cholita, una de los proyectos en
los que te metiste años más tarde. Os declarabais influenciadas por
Gloria Trevi… ¿Qué buscabas con ese nuevo proyecto?
I wasn't looking for anything. I never look for music, it seems to
look for me. I was at a party when a friend asked me to go see him
perform with a group called the Afro Sisters. He introduced me to
Vaginal Davis who immediately talked me into going on stage with them
that same night. I improvised and it was exhilarating. After that,
Miss Davis drafted me into The Afro Sisters and then into Cholita.
Cholita was performance art, improvisational comedy, social commentary
and music all in rolled into one big fun ball, in some ways similar to
Gloria Trevi. The Cholitas were all Trevi fans.
34.Te has dedicado últimamente a entrevistar a chicas de la escena
Punk. ¿Qué crees que tienen de especial las chicas que formaron parte
de aquello a diferencia de los hombres?
All of us truly believed that we could do anything that the guys did
and we proved it.
35.Voy a hacerte una de las preguntas que tú sueles hacer a tus
entrevistados. ¿qué legado ha dejado el punk en tu vida?
I'm not afraid to fail. If I want to do something I don't let self
doubt or other people's opinions stop me. I figure even if I don't
achieve exactly what I set out to do I am still ahead and better off
for having tried. The only failure is failure to act.
36.Tienes pagina web y myspace. ¿Cómo crees que habría cambiado la
escena Punk de los 70 y 80 de haber todos estos adelantos?
It would have been amazing. I think it would have been a global
creative revolution. Can you imagine the richness and diversity that
the internet would have allowed? We could have cosmopolitan
collaborations! I find most of my favorite bands on the internet. I
rarely listen to the radio anymore. Why bother with radio or record
labels when some of the most creative work is being done online and
independently?
37.¿A qué te dedicas hoy en día?
I'm taking my punk attitude and writing an autobiography. I am not a
writer but it's good therapy for me. I'd like to turn it into a
graphic novel along the lines of Persepolis or Maus. Any willing comic book
artists out there?
Ruta 66 is a beautiful rock mag, full of great writing and full color photos. It's much more mainstream than the magazines I'm typically featured in. Since I'm not one of the better known punk musicians from my era, I was happy that Alberto took the time to research his subject and send me some very insightful and thought provoking questions. I did find it odd (to say the least) to see my name on the cover alongside Sir Paul McCartney. I showed it to my 14 year old daughter who is a huge Beatles fan because I thought she would be impressed. She smiled faintly and said "oh yeah, that's cool" in a flat voice. Then she went back to the latest M.I.A. remix on her Ipod...
Here are just a few of the questions and answers. Ruta 66 did a great job of translating my English answers to Spanish, but I'm lazy and will let you translate Alberto's questions from Spanish to English. It will give you some idea of what it's like to be a Spanish-only speaking student in an English immersion class.
31.En 1981 decides abandonar todo aquello, coincidiendo con la entrada
de la heroína en la escena Punk. ¿Hasta qué punto crees que las drogas
ayudaron a acelerar la muerte del Punk?
Punk isn't dead, it's just changed. Punk is more than a type of music,
it's an attitude that transcends time and space. The thing that did
end was the Hollywood scene as it had once been. I think drugs
contributed to it but I don't know if that type of situation where
everything was open and welcoming and creative could have lasted
forever. Change is inevitable and necessary.
32.Bandas como las Go Gos salieron del circuito underground y
vendieron miles de discos. ¿Por qué crees que otras bandas muy
superiores a ellas musicalmente no salieron de aquello?
The Go-Go's were marketable in ways that some other bands were not.
Not only were they cute, stylish young girls, they played upbeat
energetic pop. I don't think their music was inferior to anyone
else's. I think music is a matter of taste and if punk was about
anything it was about obliterating the whole idea of musical
superiority. Their music was different and more commercial but the
girls were true to themselves.
33.He visto algún video delirante de Cholita, una de los proyectos en
los que te metiste años más tarde. Os declarabais influenciadas por
Gloria Trevi… ¿Qué buscabas con ese nuevo proyecto?
I wasn't looking for anything. I never look for music, it seems to
look for me. I was at a party when a friend asked me to go see him
perform with a group called the Afro Sisters. He introduced me to
Vaginal Davis who immediately talked me into going on stage with them
that same night. I improvised and it was exhilarating. After that,
Miss Davis drafted me into The Afro Sisters and then into Cholita.
Cholita was performance art, improvisational comedy, social commentary
and music all in rolled into one big fun ball, in some ways similar to
Gloria Trevi. The Cholitas were all Trevi fans.
34.Te has dedicado últimamente a entrevistar a chicas de la escena
Punk. ¿Qué crees que tienen de especial las chicas que formaron parte
de aquello a diferencia de los hombres?
All of us truly believed that we could do anything that the guys did
and we proved it.
35.Voy a hacerte una de las preguntas que tú sueles hacer a tus
entrevistados. ¿qué legado ha dejado el punk en tu vida?
I'm not afraid to fail. If I want to do something I don't let self
doubt or other people's opinions stop me. I figure even if I don't
achieve exactly what I set out to do I am still ahead and better off
for having tried. The only failure is failure to act.
36.Tienes pagina web y myspace. ¿Cómo crees que habría cambiado la
escena Punk de los 70 y 80 de haber todos estos adelantos?
It would have been amazing. I think it would have been a global
creative revolution. Can you imagine the richness and diversity that
the internet would have allowed? We could have cosmopolitan
collaborations! I find most of my favorite bands on the internet. I
rarely listen to the radio anymore. Why bother with radio or record
labels when some of the most creative work is being done online and
independently?
37.¿A qué te dedicas hoy en día?
I'm taking my punk attitude and writing an autobiography. I am not a
writer but it's good therapy for me. I'd like to turn it into a
graphic novel along the lines of Persepolis or Maus. Any willing comic book
artists out there?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
NYC Summer of 78
This is a photo of me and my Canterbury roommate Shannon Wilhelm hanging out in NYC with our pals from the west coast, The Nuns. It's the summer of 1978. We're on the roof of The Chelsea hotel. That's me in the lavender t-shirt on the tower and Shannon is under my butt. I'm writing about this trip in my online autobiography, www.chicaviolenta.blogspot.com and I have more photos from this trip than I can possibly fit into the story but I've always liked this one and wanted to post it. Enjoy!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Why Do I Do This To Myself?
Ever try to make yourself do something you're not good at and then struggle through the process until you wonder what the hell made you want to do it in the first place? I took a Pilates class recently that sent me fleeing for the comfort of my old Jane Fonda and Richard Simmons video tapes.
I guess I do the hard new stuff to push myself, which leads to me the next question: is it worth it? Would I be a better human being if I mastered Pilates instead of The Jane Fonda Workout? I don't know.
For the past six months I've been working on a blog project that started off as a comic book idea, turned into a therapeutic exorcism and has recently left me feeling like a passenger in a vehicle driven by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Every weekday I sit down at the computer for at least two hours and force myself to write something, anything. Did I forget to mention that I'm not a writer? I'm not even much of a journalist. If it wasn't for my husband's incessant nagging, telling me "Write something for your blog!" and guilting: "You should be writing instead of wasting your time on Facebook, or MySpace." (Funny how he hadn't listed his marital status on Facebook until I joined.)
I struggle to pull out my story from its age old hiding place where it's been covered with piles and piles of newer and fresher memories, innocuous memories that cover the old ones. But they are like the undead, those old memories and if you poke around they come to life, jump into the driver's seat and beckon, "Hop in!" When an old memory takes me for a ride it always takes unexpected turns; sometimes it's a fun ride, other times the ride is sad and painful.
But I'm getting ahead of myself because there are plenty of times when I feel like a pedestrian trying to hail a cab on a busy city street and I can't find a driver. It's then that the two hours in front of the computer turn into anxious tea and coffee guzzling. I start to type, then delete; start to type, then delete. I have to imagine myself as an old prospector, patiently filling my little tin pan with sandy water, swishing and swishing, hoping for a little gold dust. It's time consuming and not always fruitful but I do it anyway.
I write something every weekday when my kid leaves for school. I've learned that by allowing my memories to drive me instead of trying to remember specific events, what is meaningful and memorable to me eventually comes to the surface but it's not always fun, more often it's work, much like exercising when I'd rather be painting, or sewing, or playing music. I just don’t enjoy the process of writing in the same way I enjoy making music or painting, which are a joy by comparison. It's at those times that a little outside motivation really helps. Seeing that I have blog followers makes me feel like I owe it to them not to cop out. Getting comments from readers is huge. A reader recently wrote that they'd spent four hours reading my Violence Girl blog from the beginning (not an easy task since the blog format forces you to read from the last entry to the first) and the idea that someone who doesn't know me would take that much time out of their busy day to read about my life just floored me.
So I write, grudgingly, with clumsy fingers and awkward phrases and no idea where I'm going with my story, but I write.
I guess I do the hard new stuff to push myself, which leads to me the next question: is it worth it? Would I be a better human being if I mastered Pilates instead of The Jane Fonda Workout? I don't know.
For the past six months I've been working on a blog project that started off as a comic book idea, turned into a therapeutic exorcism and has recently left me feeling like a passenger in a vehicle driven by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Every weekday I sit down at the computer for at least two hours and force myself to write something, anything. Did I forget to mention that I'm not a writer? I'm not even much of a journalist. If it wasn't for my husband's incessant nagging, telling me "Write something for your blog!" and guilting: "You should be writing instead of wasting your time on Facebook, or MySpace." (Funny how he hadn't listed his marital status on Facebook until I joined.)
I struggle to pull out my story from its age old hiding place where it's been covered with piles and piles of newer and fresher memories, innocuous memories that cover the old ones. But they are like the undead, those old memories and if you poke around they come to life, jump into the driver's seat and beckon, "Hop in!" When an old memory takes me for a ride it always takes unexpected turns; sometimes it's a fun ride, other times the ride is sad and painful.
But I'm getting ahead of myself because there are plenty of times when I feel like a pedestrian trying to hail a cab on a busy city street and I can't find a driver. It's then that the two hours in front of the computer turn into anxious tea and coffee guzzling. I start to type, then delete; start to type, then delete. I have to imagine myself as an old prospector, patiently filling my little tin pan with sandy water, swishing and swishing, hoping for a little gold dust. It's time consuming and not always fruitful but I do it anyway.
I write something every weekday when my kid leaves for school. I've learned that by allowing my memories to drive me instead of trying to remember specific events, what is meaningful and memorable to me eventually comes to the surface but it's not always fun, more often it's work, much like exercising when I'd rather be painting, or sewing, or playing music. I just don’t enjoy the process of writing in the same way I enjoy making music or painting, which are a joy by comparison. It's at those times that a little outside motivation really helps. Seeing that I have blog followers makes me feel like I owe it to them not to cop out. Getting comments from readers is huge. A reader recently wrote that they'd spent four hours reading my Violence Girl blog from the beginning (not an easy task since the blog format forces you to read from the last entry to the first) and the idea that someone who doesn't know me would take that much time out of their busy day to read about my life just floored me.
So I write, grudgingly, with clumsy fingers and awkward phrases and no idea where I'm going with my story, but I write.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Holiday Hiatus
As the year draws to a close, I've been struggling with a terrible cold that has left me practically unable to speak and barely able to function. I finally broke down and went to see the doctor, hoping to get something to wipe out this crud. Fortunately, I've been able to communicate using text messages and emails.
One person with whom I've recently been in communication lives far away in England. She's someone who I had practically given up hope of speaking with again because our friendship had fallen apart along with our old punk band the Bags but I am hoping that the expression "time heals all wounds" will hold true and my old friend Patricia and I can pick up where we left off so many years ago.
Maybe it's the season or perhaps it's just the timing of this reconnection, coming as it does during the year of my 50th birthday, but it feels good to be back in touch with one of my dearest friends and someone who was once such an important part of my life. Patricia and I have lots of catching up to do and she has already sent me photos of her gorgeous daughter. It's also a remarkable coincidence that we are trading emails while I am writing about the early days of the LA punk scene and the Bags on my Violence Girl autoblogography. Patricia remembers details that I've forgotten, like why we kicked Geza X and Joe Nanini out of The Bags.
I'll be taking a break to recuperate and enjoy the holidays with my family but will be back with more episodes in the True Life Adventures of Violence Girl in 2009. Thank you all for continuing to read my blogs, your comments and words of support really keep me going. Here's hoping that 2009 will be a much better year and that time really can heal all wounds.
One person with whom I've recently been in communication lives far away in England. She's someone who I had practically given up hope of speaking with again because our friendship had fallen apart along with our old punk band the Bags but I am hoping that the expression "time heals all wounds" will hold true and my old friend Patricia and I can pick up where we left off so many years ago.
Maybe it's the season or perhaps it's just the timing of this reconnection, coming as it does during the year of my 50th birthday, but it feels good to be back in touch with one of my dearest friends and someone who was once such an important part of my life. Patricia and I have lots of catching up to do and she has already sent me photos of her gorgeous daughter. It's also a remarkable coincidence that we are trading emails while I am writing about the early days of the LA punk scene and the Bags on my Violence Girl autoblogography. Patricia remembers details that I've forgotten, like why we kicked Geza X and Joe Nanini out of The Bags.
I'll be taking a break to recuperate and enjoy the holidays with my family but will be back with more episodes in the True Life Adventures of Violence Girl in 2009. Thank you all for continuing to read my blogs, your comments and words of support really keep me going. Here's hoping that 2009 will be a much better year and that time really can heal all wounds.
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