If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?
This is the most terrible prompt on WordPress to be honest. Perhaps this is coming from a place of vanity since the only thing that made me seriously consider the convent was the thought of wearing the same outfit the rest of my life. In fact, here’s a poem I wrote about it.
‘My vice
On a sunny day, I was angry and running and said, “who the fuck needs men” and I thought about joining the convent I could definitely take a vow of celibacy but then I remember their vow of poverty And I can’t become a poor person again Sure God will understand I’m made for starbucks And pretty dresses from amazon And to take a vow of modesty would feel like an atrocity a crime against my humanity I could never tone down my beauty I look too good in a bikini so for now I’ll have to settle for a secular life because being a spoiled and pretty girl is my vice
I couldn’t even wear this banging outfit the rest of my life.
Anyways, WordPress needs to do better with their prompts. 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
As I’m thinking about this answer, two teachers come to mind. One is my 11th Grade English Mrs.Idica and the other is my college professor of creative writing, Dr.Blais.
Who knows what would have happened to these two if it wasn’t for Mrs.Idica 😭😭😭
I took Mrs.Idica’s Asian American Lit and Creative Writing class my junior year of high school. I did really well in my creative writing class but almost flunked the Asian American lit class. I remember not liking her too much at first because she pushed us to do our best and was strict. I think I did well in the creative writing class because I really loved writing poems and little short stories. At the time, I didn’t think it was something I’d ever be passionate about but of course the class did have a great impact on me, here’s a poem I wrote in that class:
Mrs.Idica ended up being my homebound teacher when I was on maternity leave with my first son at the beginning of my senior year. That meant that for 6 weeks, she came to my house to give me my school assignments and helped me with them if I needed help. She would stay and talk to me and always encouraged me to drop out of high school and to continue on. This was important for me to hear as there was pressure from people in my family to drop out and work. She could have easily just dropped off my work and not have these conversations with me but instead she showed up with the compassion and grace I needed during a really dark time in my life. She also had the patience of the saint as I trudge through my school assignments since I was an terrible student. She never gave up on me or told me my life was ruined because I had a child at such a young age. In fact, she was one of the few people who didn’t shame me and reminded me my child was a gift. The encouragement from her and her belief in me really made a difference in my life. I don’t believe I would have put so much effort that last year in high school and graduated on time. I think what made her not just a great but exceptional teacher was that she was caring, had the patience of a saint, and was this light of compassion and encouragement for me when I needed it. This is a poem I wrote about her:
I also want to say that I’m still in touch with her through social media where I share updates about my life and my writing. Even now, she tells me she’s proud of me and that means a lot to me.
Right after taking Dr.Blais class
Another teacher in my life who was exceptional was my creative writing professor Dr. Blais. Like Mrs.Idica, she pushed us to do our best in the class and provided a safe space for us to express ourselves creatively.I also learned to be super disciplined with my writing in her class and the editing process. She was very patient with us and in her class I wrote 3 plays and both of them won 2nd and 3rd place in the college writing competition which meant a lot to me since it was the first time I was writing plays. She also encouraged me to continue writing and even invited me to one of her playwright workshop groups but I couldn’t go due to family obligations. Also, her class was my favorite escape from my busy mom life that included 2 small kids and 3 part time jobs at the time. It was a crazy time in my life where my mental health was a bit touch and go but going to Dr.Blais class helped me cope. Like, Mrs.Idica, Dr.Blais saw potential in me and encouraged me and was incredibly patient in kneading the writer out of me. I think taking her class validated my passion for writing. Especially when the last assignment was making a book which I titled “My Quarter Life Crises” . I felt accomplished in making that little book of my poems and plays. Here’s a link to one of the plays I wrote in her class:
Unfortunately, I lost touch with my Dr.Blais after college and can’t seem to find her anywhere. Last I heard is that she’s had success as a playwright in New York.
I think I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have had two educators show up in my life who made a positive impact on effect. It doesn’t always happen that way (thinking about my super condescending English professor at UGA- but that’s another blog post) . It’s hard to imagine who I would have become without both of them.
july, july, july it’s the month where I lose my mind the heat gets to me and turns up the BSC in me you won’t find me sweet and eager to please in July you won’t find me full of ruffles and flowery phrases in poetry you’ll find me being a ball of immigrant rage and fury you’ll find me a woman who’s had enough of the American dream bullshit and ready to roar and scream out everything wrong with this country
WordPress Prompt: What are you most worried about for the future?
Things I’m currently crashing out about:
Finances-I’m in a financial hole due to loss income and medical debt. I’ve been in denial for such a long time about it but today I didn’t even have enough to cover my rent so I had to ask my other roommates for their share and one of them will move out soon. It’s been keeping up at night but I know I’ll dig myself out as I have done before. It just fucking sucks for now and makes me feel like a complete and utter failure. But there’s no time for me to lament and whine, I need to take action now and I’m doing it. I have to have blind faith that I’ll be fine and there is a light at the end of these really dark economic times.
CPTSD symptoms: Triggered cause of the heat, the stress and this time of the year. I’m managing not to have a total and complete emotional relapse by exercising, drinking my water and minding my business, watching movies with really pretty people in them, and acknowledging what’s happening by talking to close friends and writing. I honestly feel like if someone came up to me and gave me $10000, my CPTSD would completely disappear but that’s not real life. I’m trying to do better because last week I was a complete bitch to one of my friends and she didn’t deserve it. I apologized and owned up to it but damn I still feel bad about it.
And of course, existing while Latina in this country. With all the shit that’s happening I worry about my family members and myself. I try to take it day by day but the anxiety gets at 100 when I see a new headline pop up especially the latest one about stripping citizenship from U.S citizens. I have to laugh because one) I’m too medicated to cry and two) it’s really not worth getting so upset about something out of my control.
I haven’t done a WordPress Prompt in a minute and this one just gnawed and gnawed at me and I was like, hell, maybe I’ll feel better screaming into the void especially now that my nature spot is ruined. R.I.P my special creek. I hope that the next time I answer a WordPress prompt, it’s something where I answer the question and I’m a lot happier. I hope that in three months, I’ll look back on this post and I can see that I’ve made a lot of progress and I feel more balanced and hopeful and I can say, well, I made it and I’m more than okay. IF not, at least I will have written a lot more poems and stories.
denial sits in the pit of my gut but I disguise it with a smile and trips to the zoo act like domestic bliss is heaven when inside I’m trembling with rage
Entre la espada y la pared me encuentro otra vez es tiempo para otra evolución, otro renacimiento pero me siento cómoda donde estoy me siento tranquila aqui donde no tengo que dar explicaciones a nadie pero el universo tiene otros planes para mi pronto vendrá alguien o algo que me moverá el piso y denuevo caeré en el caos sin querer queriendo
as long as there is breath left in me I will try try to be a good mom to my kids try to tell my story try to love everyone the best way i can try to find understanding for what happened to me try to find joy in the most ordinary of moments try to dance my way through my most depressive episodes try find my inner peace and calm
hold onto hope, don’t let go one day you’ll laugh about this one day you’ll be okay hold onto hope, don’t let go Remember all of the times you’ve been strong Remember all of the times you put one foot in front of the other hold onto hope, don’t let go your story is still being written you’re still in time to change your narrative
lately I hate everything I have written Sometimes I get the urge to burn Or delete everything but something tells me this is how I know I’m growing I’m evolving in my craft
I’m used to being a doormat always allowing people’s energy to pollute my life and take up my time it’s the people pleaser in me who needed to fawn be easy to get along with with,always avoiding conflict, become the person they want me to be, always easy to digest and swallow cutting away pieces of my authenticity- never valuing myself or putting myself first It was learned martyrdom from the women in my family Internalized misogyny sold to me at young age dressed up as selfless acts of love but I’m done sacrificing myself for others It’s time to unlearn this toxic way of loving and being I refuse to passed this down to the next generation of woman who come after me I’m here to take up space, roar like a lioness and passed down a new legacy of self love that took me 41 years to learn
I keep trying to manifest the one worthy of me but I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist I swipe and swipe on the dating apps but no one is of interest to me and so I find solace in an unrequited love that will never be more than friendship it’s the best I can do to quell the romantic in me
when I’m happy and calm I wear my stagnation balm I can’t find anything inspiring when my sanity is not hanging by a string it makes me miss the former chaos in my life that inspired me to write, write, write when I was emotionally unstable the words just seemed to fly onto the paper now that my life is boring the muse is not roaring maybe it’s time to try to stop these unproductive sighs I will no longer live the writer block’s lie yes, I can write when I’m sane inspiration doesn’t need to wane inspiration can be found in the mundane
my body feels like a rundown shack that’s crumbling down slowly I can’t get up in the morning without my knee or hip bitching and moaning without me groaning in pain and mumbling to myself “Omg, another stupid day” and cursing my genetics that make me watch everything I eat and again I wonder am I paying a karmic debt for my colonizer ancestors
Life on the BPD 