I’m not doing such a great job at maintaining this blog, despite the extra hour and half of child free time in my day. Hell I’m not doing a great job maintaining my political/culture blog. I am going blame the fact that I am trying to play catch up with how far behind I’ve fallen with bills this summer because my income was essentially cut in half. I will also not blame but admit that being in a serious long distance relationship means a different kind of attention and time commitment (insert your comments here for those that have followed/have been involved in past relationships with me). I also just fell out of the habit when self-censorship took effect. Clearly I don’t need to and probably shouldn’t blog about everything (who really wants to read about my sex life—or do you?). I think the distance was/is good in that I was forced to be more introspective, channel thoughts into poetry or my journal, or ::gasp:: have more conversations with people.
But the truth is I am also having less conversations with people (except for my kids, my pareja, and my immediate familia). So I want to come back and find my voice again, find my passion.
I’m trying to get better.
I don’t have the same time I did when I was a single mami to one kid.
What I have been trying to to is jot bloggable thoughts in my notebook so that when I do have time I don’t have to grasp for a fake-ass issue to write about.
It also adds a layer of editing.
A ver como funciona and if I can get back into it.
Since I am working less hours this summer, the least I can do is make the effort to take up,use space and time in other maybe important ways.
I returned to live-journal this morning (yes people still use that)
I will return here as well. Things I want to write about:
1: My long distance relationship
2: monogamy (or not)
3: queer identity (or not)
6: my organizing/activism
In the meantime I also have to work on the rest of my website to promote my readings and other activities.
My vida is a sort of open book again.
It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve stood in front of an audience and spit some poetry and truth me told i have a few new ones rolling around in the space between mi vientre y mu boca pero I don’t think they are ready yet.
I will be reading at bluestockings , Friday September 18th @ 7PM as part of a mama storytelling salon featuring Kerry Cohen, Vikki Law , Jennifer Silverman and me.
Hope to see some of you there.
This new year, I have vowed not to keep secrets. To be shameless in my writing and in order to do that properly I needed to reclaim my space to speak, to write, be poetic, be Mala as I reenter single mami’hood and start fresh pero with old knowledge guiding me.
I sucked it up, faced my fear of tech, and purchased my own hosting space and here is Mamita Mala’s new blog casita.
Originally I was at MamitaMala.com pero I didn’t have control over much of the backend. I created a temporary exile tent city.
Recreate with me. Reinvent. Revolutionize, welcome.
Oh and please be patient as I mess with the sidebars, add links, change headers, etc. I am a poet who blogs, not a blogger who does poetry.
I feel like I’ve been living in borrowed space, borrowed time with borrowed people for a little bit now. It’s been a week or so since I’ve been locked out of my online casita, MamitaMala. It’s funny. I was Mamita Mala before I was a blogger and yet, blogging and the community carved from it, has been unbelievably important, full of impact and implications. So, call me an addict for missing the blog as an outlet, but it really is an extension of myself and my life reaching in and then out.
So the chica, who struggles with the desire for home and homeland, the mujer who fights against borders, outlines and claims another space, an tent city for my exiled words, aqui.
It feels a little silly, the attention paid to the details here. The dark colors reflecting my morning/mourning mood this morning and now the meticulously designed banner courtesy of Xolagrafik , (mil gracias Nezua for capturing) reflecting the Nuyorican poeta/puta. All this for a home that is not permanant, pero rather an in between space.
Pero it makes sense. It reflects my in between heart that knows where it wants to be but has a long way to go to get there.
So si, bienvenida to the neon lit ciudad until it too, burns away.