Going Mad in a CAFÉ


I’m in a café trying to edit some footage. I had to come out of my little hole in the wall apartment. Going a little crazy being indoors nowadays. My sassy Ecuadorian friend came out with me because she has a French exam this coming Friday. We are both nervous about our deadlines. She’s working away  at her French book, thinking about getting back with her lover in Paris. She dreams about romance, La Seine,  red wine, and the reunion with her studies abroad. She dreams of biology — scrapping out rat brains to find out the effects of epilepsy through certain medications…I may be embellashing what she does, but it’s definitely not what I do. I write, or at least I used to.

Having a dilemma here Blog Land. Having an internal depression about my writing.

I got a letter of rejection from a fellowship I applied to. I was sad, but also glad because great things are happening for me with video work. But now I’m on this fork in the road. Writing? Videography? What’s happening? WHO AM I? WHY IS LIFE SO COMPLICATED? OMERGARSH I’M ALMOST 30!!! You know, the usual internal freak outs people tend to have when drinking coffee in a public place—or laying down on their bed at 3:41pm in the afternoon. The kind of freak out that makes your left eye twitch, yeah, I’m there right now.

I’m working on a few promotional videos. One about dancers, and the other about of engineers, mathematicians, and animators.  Why am I sharing this information? Because I am not writing, I mean…aside from this I suppose.

Blog Land, something is happening to my dream of writing. It’s evolving but in a visual way. I am making stories with video, telling tales with imagery, making gestural and analytical conversations with subjects. I like to call this work video prose…I think I just made that up, but after studying at Berkeley I might have not. Almost everything under the sun has been written about!

I suppose I feel as if I am expanding my writing into video work. It’s great. It’s also extremely frustrating because I haven’t written a lick in a while. But C’est la vie! as my sassy Ecuadorian friend tells me in her South-American Californian accent.

We have to make the best of what we have, I suppose. And right now, I have a lot of work. I have to be grateful for that at least. Right? Right.

So here I am eating a Chicken Caesar Salad, venting online, and seeing my pal on the other end of the vigorously studying for love, for science, for her life after summer. She rubs her eyes in frustration and I pretend to listen to music while I type type type.

I share nothing significant, and therefore this is a vent! A writer’s venting session!


Midnight Post 5

The winds are blowing hard on this small cottage here in Berkeley. Downstairs, the two dogs I live with are enjoying themselves by the fire. Their owners sleep on an inflatable mattress, and I am awake … editing and organizing my thoughts for the next few weeks. It’s November. It’s November…how did that happen?

I realized my body automatically shifted to the holiday spirit when I found myself reaching for the cinnamon burst candle at a store yesterday. I brought it up to my face and said to myself, “It smells like Christmas.”   It’s November! Thanksgiving hasn’t even happened yet and already I’m fantasizing about Christmas.

Lately, I’ve been writing my general thoughts in a journal or jotting down the small details I can remember about my dreams. It’s been a great way to keep track of my thoughts and my imagination, whether they are conscious or unconscious. There’s been a lot going through my mind. There are a lot of changes happening around me too. I am looking for a new place to live in January, and the transition to Berkeley has been…smooth, but at times, overwhelming. Work I thought I’d not find in this community has manifested. Work I actually enjoy and like. I shouldn’t brag, or pat myself on the back too much. It’s still a beginning.

Yet, here I sit. On the bedside wondering if I should read another Cesár Vallejo poem, or if I should just lie down and attempt to fall asleep.

Inspiration can drown out sleep sometimes. Even on nights like these…when I’m so very very tired.