Saturday, November 08, 2008

Manola Moves On to Sexier Pastures

manola yeah!

The best writing is the kind that comes from the heart. And when that heart is looking for a place of its own, it's best to lay off writing for a while. Sometimes, writing sucks the will to live out of you. Sometimes living sucks the will to write out of you. Sometimes, it's a little of both.

And that's the kind of limbo I find myself in right now.

Someone once said I was worth reading. Am I still? Absolutely. But that's because I live by the following: Live authentically. Write authentically.

I'm not saying Sex and the Beach is closing its doors. I'm just saying that this blog can no longer be about a series of characters who are attached to a particular place or lifestyle. I've changed and the characters I created need to change with me.

And as most of us agreed on November 4: change is indeed a good thing.

And you know what? I’m starting my change now by just telling it like it is.

I spent three years crippled by anxiety disorder and agoraphobia, which is something that I never really talked about on this blog. So while I was stagnating, writing kept me alive. I produced material here for three years that I didn't even know I was capable of …

… Manola was a glimmer of light and laughter in an otherwise dark world. You could say Manola saved my life.

And now that I've started to live again, I need to find that balance between living and writing.

Yeah, I need to come to terms with Manola -- even though she’s smooth as butter and WD40 or axle grease.

Oh yeah … as well … agoraphobia, that lovely thing … it’s embarrassing actually. How can’t you leave your home, whatever home is? Baby, talk to me. I know it. But I can also teach you how your spirit can soar, because I also know what it’s like to be stuck.

Even though this blog has nearly always been semi-fictional, the other side of fictional -- real, lived life -- is what truly inspires me. How can I really be a single woman's guide to chronic living if I'm not living actively like a single woman? Currently, my life is quiet and contemplative; I don't expect it to change dramatically any time soon.

Like many of us, right now, I'm just trying to get by -- chronically living.

Also, I'm not doing that thing people do to get hitched -- dating. And quite frankly, I'm not particularly interested in sex as a principal topic. And even if I were dating, I'd run into the question: should I share my private life with the world? My first instinct is NO. I'm a grown-up and I need to respect the privacy of those who are involved in my life, let alone those who come within a meter of my genitals.

Again: live authentic, write authentic.

And based on that mantra, I'm thinking about ways to evolve this blog so that my writing grows with me and doesn't get stuck on the beach, in the city or in any particular damn place -- least of all my private parts, puhleeaze!

Isn’t that the true meaning of growth: Not getting stuck anywhere? Growing in spite of whatever/wherever it is that wants to get you stuck?

And besides, I never really thought of myself as a blogger, but rather as a writer who just happens to use the blogging tech/platform as a means to publish and share her work.

I don't see a blog as a "thing," a noun, but rather as a "verb," a dynamic energy. The blog format is simply the container of that energy. It's the energy that matters -- that energy that comes from the heart, that comes from the love.

(Not to take away from those tech wizards that make it all happen, believe me!)

But at the end of the day, writing without love isn't writing at all, but just an exercise in emptiness. It’s about that energy. And it's because I love writing so much, because I know that my words can move others to love or compassion and maybe a moment of levity and laughter, because I’m driven by some Darwinian stubborn life purpose to write stupid shit that makes people feel for a moment alive or get excited or depressed or whatever, that I'm respecting the direction where my heart wants to travel.

Writing connects.

And without that, writing is nothing.

So you see where this is going.

Every artist knows intuitively when it's time to evolve and I've come to that point with regards to this blog. This isn't the end of the book -- it's just the end of a particular chapter and the incubation period of a fabulous new manifestation.

I'm going to spend some time literally remodeling the blog, upgrading to the new blogger or switching platforms altogether. As well, I have a great idea for a new section on this blog that will actually be useful to the local community, involving the health, education and culture sectors. We'll see if I implement that at some point.

I'll be back, new and improved. Oh and a little older -- this professional champion spinster proudly turns 41 on Sunday, November 9.

In the meantime, please go do something – vote (too late?) or have sex (ok?) … well if you’re bored with that then please browse the archives on the sidebar ... or listen to a very cool song below about taking things easy ...

... really, at the end of the day, where is the fucking fire?

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Sarah Gonzalez from Hialeah Vaginarick for Vice-President!

Well, what could be more appropriate for the third anniversary of this blog?

Sarah Gonzalez from Hialeah for Vice PresidentBefore you give me any shit, it's a PARODY!
Ugh. I really don't like to get into politics, but honestly, this one I couldn't resist!

"I am a rrrrreal American, ok? Don't tell me you never heard of Hialeah, because you never heard of Wasilla, my freng. My freng! I know you are my freng, OK? Not THAT ONE? OK?"

"Please 2 B follow my train of thought ... I am Cuban-American womenz. Everybody knows Cuban-Americanz have best vagina in the world. Best vagina in the world comes from Cuba! Cuba is only 90 miles from America! Therefore, I should be Vice-President!"

"I am not a MAVERICK! I am a VAGINARICK!"

I'm sure the Hispanics are going to get a good laugh about the womenz and the Juan Seis Paquetes ... and hopefully the gringos will recognize the joke that "balls" means "paquete" (meaning "junk" or "stuff") so that a man aint worth his mettle if he aint got his six-pack plus the two balls that make a man, comprende compadre?

And hopefully we'll recognize that you can't be a freakin' Hockey Mom in Miami because the only ice we have is the kind you snort (well, that's not true, we do have some ice rinks) ...

Anyway, this blog started three years ago with the humble post Wax and Pap ... on the eve of the election, it's good to know that there are several constants in life: death, taxes and vaginal hair removal. On this you can trust. Maybe not the all-seeing eye on the dollar bill, but yeah, there's always going to be people wanting to look like plucked chickens.

Enjoy, live the life you have, be happy. Naysayers are always going to tell us we're going to hell. The smart among us will tell them, hell is overrated and not worth bailing out. Touché.

Is it time to ask ... are the meek inheriting?

Well, regardless ... be well ... looking forward to a year of more shenanigans, MY FRIENDS!

And in the meantime -- for some really good writin' dont cha know gosh darn it as my mom told me you gotta love it -- make sure to check out my freng Bilingual in the Boonies, a lady who can craft some incredible prose.

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