Plain and rock-hard, no filter, no makeup, in the flat daylight of a Sunday morning at the petting zoo, this is how I look now. Age closer to 38 than anything else, I see the more time goes by the bigger my nose seems to become, and my upper lip thinner. I’m starting to look like my grandmother, who is 98 and still completely alive. Being yourself is not easy, people shrug this sentence off like it were the simplest thing in the world – as if it meant Continue reading
I am a TWAHT mom.
And by TWAHT I mean Trying to Work At Home with Toddler (mom). My line of work is writing and I do it whenever my young offspring is asleep (god bless naps), whenever it’s a weekend and he’s out with his Papa, or in the bath, or at night when I need to write so much that I can’t sleep. Currently, my life mission is to utilize every possible scrap of spare time to slide any of my writing projects forward, even if it’s only by one paragraph. Sometimes, I write even when I’m not writing: under the shower, scrubbing potatoes in the kitchen sink, or chilling on the rug while my son launches his toy train off the couch’s edge.
Writing is my work, but it’s hard to consider it a job. Also, it’s hard to have those around me understand what it means to me, this invisible passion. Writing is my art and my calling and I do not think I need to earn money on my words in order for me to be legit. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t, but as long as I write I am legit. This very moment, this drowsy afternoon while the dishes downstairs are not yet done and I’m trying to type as many sentences as possible before my son calls me from our bedroom, right now, I am as legit as I need to be.
Every Holiday Season is always spiked with hurdles in the form of uncomfortable questions from friends and family and strangers alike. Their inquiries and conversation starters will all be tentative paraphrases of the same thought – What is it exactly that you do? Every one has a clear opinion about what I should be doing instead of writing, and by everyone I mean my mother, my next door neighbor, and helpful strangers on the bus. Continue reading
The weather sucks, real bad. Hard blows of icy wind, micro-raindrops cut like shards of melting glass, sideways, straight into my neck and it gets dark so fast. In a perfect world, all I would want to do when such deep wet autumn sets in, is hide under a blanket and read, sleep, drink steaming cups of mulled wine. But then again, I used to have a life where this kind of schedule was possible and I have done it more than once. Yes, when I was single and working from home, whenever the right kind of helplessness would set in, I could ride a steady wave of pajamas, cigarettes and eating things straight out of their boxes for a whole week at a stretch. Now that I’ve become a responsible adult who cannot even sit for 5 minutes without being harassed by a member of her family, I fantasize about those lost weeks full of nothing. But the truth is, those times were not good. Not good at all, in fact, and I’ve learned it the hard way. Another thing I have learned is that, if I don’t Continue reading
I leave the bedroom quietly, shut the door like I’m not even there. It took me so long to get him to fall asleep, nursing, he must have sucked for almost half an hour. I step into the bathroom, lift my shirt, and estimate the damage. I take the needle from the complimentary hotel sewing kit I keep handy on the shelf, clean it with rubbing alcohol then get down to it. The first time I had to do this I sweated profusely, the needle slipping out of my fingertips and my heart pumping like a traumatized squirrel’s. Continue reading