Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Wednesday…that insipid day in the middle of the week.

It’s a bright sunny day in NYC, although a tad chilly for this sickly poet. Sorry, still recovering from a chest cold and that little wind that crosses the avenues chills me down to my bones and freezes up my capacity to breathe.

I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon writing poetry. It did the soul some good to get some phrases out onto the page. I have another three to finish before the end of the week. Yes, writing group meets up on Friday so I’m working on getting new material out to them. Deadlines work for me. Keeps me working and focused. Kind of.

My brain, these days, is a deluge of wandering thoughts. Chattering monkeys galore. I write to calm them down, sedate them down back to a more yielding nature. At the very least my writing puts them to sleep. That is not to say that my writing is boring, or at least I hope that is not what I am writing. I think writing gives me headspace to sort myself out. I get to the point where I am tired of hearing my own complaints and something must be done. Action must be taken on my own account or I will surely drown in this miasma of my own self-pity. It’s just not pretty.

As I write this blog entry (it’s a slow afternoon here at work) I am listening to Tori Amos’s album, From the Choirgirl Hotel. I always forget how much I love this particular album. The rock element makes me want to get up and dance around. Her song, She’s Your Cocaine is blasting on my iTunes and I can barely sit still. So there is head bobbing, foot tapping, and swinging my desk chair from side to side. Like I said, it can’t be helped. Wish I could blast it out as loud as I can in this quiet beige office and dance on top of my desk. Hmmm, I’m not sure it would be appreciated. Hehehe. That thought made me giggle out loud. My neighbor in the cube next to me must think I’m mad when I laugh quietly to my own blog entries.

Yes, so back to the writing life. It’s not easy dedicating lots of time to writing, so I steal bits and pieces and pull them together when I can. 20 minutes here, an hour there, a couple of poems, a couple of brainstorming lines…it all adds up. I do know that I need to set aside more dedicated time to the writing since it keeps me from losing my shit. An afternoon of writing has already straightened me out and has me feeling right as rain again. It’s a small miracle. I don’t use that word lightly because the way I was feeling this morning was short of tragic and after spending three hours putting words down on a page, I am already starting to feel a bit better. Tomorrow, I will put more time in. Perhaps, dare I say it aloud, even get up early before I get ready for work and put in three pages towards my new idea/novel. Be still my rattling lungs. We shall have to see on that front ‘specially since it takes every ounce of self-will to get myself out of bed in the morning. Wish me luck on that front.

Peace~

Lily

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Writing will be interesting in the days to come

It’s Monday morning and I am sitting at a corporate desk trying hard to keep my eyes open. I am terribly tired and could use a personal day to recoup from a night of tossing, turning and coughing. My brain won’t shut off.

So let me talk about the writing. Yes, good safe topic to write about without too much weeping involved (I think). I’ve put my first draft of Indigo to rest. It’s not fully completed since I wasn’t sure how to end the story. I’m going to let it rest for 4 weeks before I make the first pass of rewrites. It took me 4.5 months to get to this point and there is a thorn in my brain about leaving it undone. A part of me wants to go in head first and start making revisions so I can start showing pages to my writing group. The other part of me is very nervous at the prospect of letting anyone see these first wonky pages. Yes, the pages feel awkward and not fully developed, like a baby deer trying to get its legs under her body. It’s all wobbly and shaky and a strong wind will topple it over. Ah can you see the confidence brimming…NOT. Confidence will come with more practice (I hope). Although, everything I’ve read about writer’s lives indicate the opposite.

Now that this piece is resting, I’m moving on to my next piece inspired by the documentary Collapse. I finally finished watching the movie yesterday. When I first put the movie on I was only able to get through the first 45 minutes. My head was going to pop off my shoulders. There was so much information to process and digest but it also gave me an inkling of a new idea. At first, I thought I would jam some of the ideas from Collapse into Indigo but I realized it would become another story if I tried to incorporate them. I’ve opted for a new novel instead. Yesterday, I was going to brainstorm and jot down ideas. What I actually did was putz around my room avoiding the blank page. I’m very good at bobbing and weaving away from the writing. I finished watching the movie and listening to Michael Ruppert speak and then I just didn’t have anything to write. I was inundated with so much data that my brain has been turning over pieces of information ever since. Tonight, I will go home after work and put down some ideas onto the page.

Which reminds me I also have to continue writing up some new poetry. I’m pulling together an application for a grant and I need to revise some pieces started at OAC and pull in some new material as well. It’s a March deadline so my goal is five new poems by this Friday. My stomach is churning, there is much to be done and I seem to be in a holding pattern. I don’t really know what I’m waiting for. It’s certainly NOT inspiration. I work, I write, I drink tea. That’s all I do these days but I get in this headspace of thinking I’m not getting enough done or that I’m waiting for something….what? I am looking out the window of this corporate office; it’s a dark, cloudy day and the rain has been coming down pretty steadily this morning.

It’s difficult to grieve when there is work to be done. Akilah Oliver, a writing mentor, recently passed away. She was an amazing poet and it came as a terrible shock. It has left me out of sorts, pressed down, walking around thin-skinned and barely present. Writing will be interesting in the days to come.
Peace~

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Personal post

**Warning: this particular post may be a bit graphic for some folks.

Tonight, I can't sleep.  I feel overwhelmed and hollowed out by tragic news.  Death seems to be looming close these days to my family and although death is inevitable there are some things that just feels like your looking into the mouth of a dark abyss.  We received news from my family in Mexico that a body found of a 14-year old girl was in fact a cousin.  The DNA results have taken months to come back to confirm this.  The state that her body was found made it impossible for her mother to identify her.  You see, she was beheaded and her body was stabbed and mutilated.  People in the town have an idea of the man who did this to her but the family has been warned not to speak up, not to speak out otherwise her remaining daughters would come to the same end.  So much violence in this world against women.  It makes me angry to the very core of my being.

You see, this man is very well connected and therefore protected.  She was last seen getting into his vehicle before she went missing.  Weeks later they found her body.  Months later her identity confirmed through DNA testing.  Her best friend met the same fate because she went along with my cousin.  How harmless would getting a lift from a guy they knew be?

I haven't used their names to allow my family some level of privacy.  But I wanted to tell folks out there about these two young 14-year old girls whose lives were cut tragically short.  Even as I write these words out I know it's not enough.  May their souls rest in peace. ~


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2011 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.