Slumped back onto Substack
Revived and writing this in a parking lot. Must be Gemini Season
I’m taking a memoir class through UCLA extension and it’s been a catalyst kind of decision for me during a great creative slump this year; I’ve been waiting to get out of my music deal, waiting for my second short film to get into any festival and waiting for the something that would change or confirm the things I’ve been chasing. How will I fulfill my day, my time, my life?
Being in this cutie class, I’ve consequently read about five memoirs in about five weeks and have been writing like a mad woman since I’ve been filled with the reality of all the different lives that are not mine and the reality of the one that is.
In the last year I’ve been planning a wedding with the first person I have ever falling in love with, and merging calendar items that involve forever.
In the past year I have helped my mother bury her husband (my stepdad), then flew her to New Orleans to sing with a full jazz band (something she hasn’t done either since the 70s one time, or EVER).
In the last year I have sunk deeper into myself through the reality that some friends and some family members will break your heart, simple because of what they hold up to be the “word of God.”
This year, I’m stepping deeper into the grief and joy this world has to offer. I’m not sure if it’s the generosity of God or the cleverness that is discernment, but it seems to me, its smart to know God is so good. And that finding love isn’t as powerful as letting love find you. Over and over again. However it all may look like, through whatever empirical evidence one finds her flirty thirties—flirting in the way that gives “faith” some extra attention and in the way that tells your wildest dreams, “maybe later if not now.”
I am here, as usually, publicly presenting now how I am, but more so why. An invitation to self that I hope spills discerningly to any eyes who see it.