Welcome Back!

According to the date on my last blog post, it has been almost a full year since I’ve written anything online. Unfortunately, I haven’t done much writing offline either. I may need a few more years in therapy to figure out why it is so hard for me to write, when the words come so easily to me. When my partner asks me why I don’t write more often I tell him it’s because writing is like giving away apart of my self. That may be true but I also think writing, especially writing something on a public forum, leaves me open to rejection and feeling exposed.

Once, at the height of my passion for writing, I decided it was time for me to write my memoirs. I had lived and loved and had so much to say on the matter. I was at the ripe old age of 16. Yeah, I thought I knew it all. I had just broken up with my first and only boyfriend. I was so dramatic and everything happening in my life was epic. You know, like the life of every teenage girl in the world. Yet somehow I felt I was unique in my love and experiences. So I grabbed the nearest spiral notebook and began writing about my love life. I had only written about a paragraph before my mom called me to get ready so we could go grocery shopping. Not sure why I thought taking my notebook with me was necessary but I grabbed it and headed to the living room. I left it on the couch while I went to the bathroom. When I came back I found my mom sitting on the couch waiting for me and reading my notebook. I was horrified! Not just because it held some rated R things my mother did not know about me. Also, I could not believe she or anyone would just violate my privacy so easily. The thought never occurred to me simply because up until that moment I had nothing of my own to keep secret. Of course she immediately asked me what it was. I told her it was a story I was writing. She inquired if any of it was true. I responded with a resounding no. Luckily for me my mother hates confrontations about things that make her uncomfortable and she dropped it and we left for the store.

From that moment on I have had a fear of writing. I have great story ideas that I think up or dream and sometimes I even begin to write them down. I don’t usually get very far. An outsider may think I’m just too lazy or undisciplined but mostly I’m just scared. Scared someone will violate my privacy and read my most personal thoughts. That would lead to the possibility of rejection. If there is anything I am more afraid of then having my mind read, it’s being rejected. I know what you’re thinking, then I’ll never make it as a writer. Well ladies and gents that’s why I am here. I am done daydreaming and waiting for someone to come and save me from my life. I am hear to face my fears, save my self and make my life happen.

You’ll be hearing from me again soon.

Love,

Raquel

P.S. I know I’ve touched on this story in a previous blog, but it’s been so long I had forgotten. However, since I was moved to write about it now I figured it was because it’s still an ongoing issue for me and worth revisiting.

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Shhh…

Growing up my home was often filed with shouts and screams. My step-father was an easily excitable man who got upset at every little thing. My mother would often say that even the things he didn’t eat made him ill (in Spanish of course). My parents fought and yelled at each other a lot. They would yell at me and my sibling too. I think this is what has conditioned me to hate too much noise. People who are loud will send my nerves on edge and until very recently, I would cry when anyone raised their voice at me, even one octave. If I’m out somewhere and there are too many sounds at once, or if someone is listening to the radio and talking at the same time I immediately get frustrated. The conflicting sounds overwhelm me. Nothing annoys me more than a person with no inside voice. I work in a call center environment and have no escape from constant noise and talking. I will often eat lunch in my car because even the break room can be loud. By the end of the day I just want to come home and lock myself in a dark, quiet closet and decompress.

I come from a family of loud people. When my aunts and mother get together they talk and laugh and it can get a bit loud. Or if someone in my family is telling a story about something they are passionate or excited about, they gradually get louder and louder, that by the end it feels like they are practically shouting.

I find it difficult to work on something that requires any bit of concentration with music playing in the background. The perfect background music for me is silence. I think this is also because I am very introverted. I already have so much going on in my mind that the outside noises overstimulate me. I am always thinking about the latest news, that t.v. show I watched last night, the book I am currently reading. analyzing the talk I had with my partner this morning, the song that I heard someone humming that is now stuck in my head, plus what I am physically doing on the outside. For every word I say out loud I hold back five. I think the problem maybe that when people are loud or there is too much noise, it drags me out of my head. The outside world becomes one I cannot drown out. I am the type of person who can spend two hours facing a white wall and not get bored. I love to sit and think and daydream. To just let my mind wonder. Lately I haven’t been able to do much daydreaming because I have so much going on in my life, there is just no time. I think I’ll set aside some time this weekend to revisit my daydreams and just sit alone and think quietly.

Why I Write…

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Once when I was about sixteen I remember I had set out to write that great American novel. I bought a spiral notebook and pick out a new, smooth writing pen. I sat and wrote my first paragraph. It was about the only thing that had happened to be at that point in my life, my first serious boyfriend. It was not a great relationship so it made for good writing. After finishing the first paragraph it was time for me to leave with my mother and brother for our weekly grocery shopping trip. I happened to leave my notebook on the couch while I finished getting ready. Now this story was raw and honest and very personal. But I felt I had something to say and I was ready to say it. As I came back for my notebook I found my mother and brother reading my very personal and inappropriate first paragraph. Naturally I was horrified; especially when my mother asked me if the things I had written were true. Gulp. I of course said no, it’s just a story I am writing. From then one I never felt like I had enough privacy to trust writing anything personal or honest. Thus ended my writing career. I have written plenty since but always from some class assignment or some emotional, yet vague poetry. I’ve never been able to bring myself to write my story, to be completely vulnerable about my thoughts. To write like no one will ever read my work. So that is why I am here. Why I am writing on this very public forum. To not only learn to take constructive criticism and allow it to help me become a better writing but let my guard down and learn to be okay with other people reading my work. To learn to trust my readers and to learn to be honest with them in turn.

Most days I don’t write. I either don’t have the time or energy or space. There is always some excuse for me not to write. I’m always hoping inspiration will strike and even when it does I am unprepared for it. So this is also why I am here. I am writing to build a writing discipline. Inspiration is great but practice is better. It being so public will better hold me accountable on those nights when I’m not feeling inspired a.k.a lazy.

I hope to not only respond to Daily Prompts when I’m low on inspiration but also weave in the story of me so that readers can get a good sense of who I am and why I am. I love reading or rather being read to. I drive 80 miles a day for work so audiobook are have become my escape from the drudgery of traffic. I love to eat and cook so I’ll probably include posts about the places I dine at and the delicious Pinterest recipes I try out. I use to consider myself an amateur photographer so I’d like re-explore my fascination with statues/sculptures I come across. I always enjoyed who they would evoke emotions in me. How I could imagine what they were feeling. My partner and I both share a love for travel and adventure; adventure in the form of theater, concerts, museums, dining so I’d like to share those experiences to. Basically anything that takes place in my real life. After all that is why I write this blog, to share an honest piece of my life, if only for my own theraputic and cathartic expression.

Live to Eat

Some People eat to live. It is a biological necessity. If you want to stay alive, you must eat. However, for me and many others out there, eating is more than just for nourishment. Eating is a passion, an art, an indulgence, a reward and sometimes a punishment.

There has been many times where I am craving say, a burger, but I would never dream of driving to the nearest MCDonald’s and ordering a Big Mac. In fact, in my opinion that would be a misuse of calories. No, when I crave a burger it cannot be from just any old joint, it has to be from the best burger place in town, Rodeo Goat. Sure it’s in the center and more congested part of town, parking is scarce and there is usually a 45 minute wait; but it is totally worth it. The buns are grilled, the mixtures of ingredients are inventive and that juicy, flavorful medium rare patty is orgasmic. In fact I usually start swaying and humming while I savor every bite. The smell of the smokey beef is intoxicating and once my tastes buds are engaged its like seeing the world in technicolor. It releases endorphins in my brain and I go into a state of bliss. This is of course is also why I have a weight problem, tee hee.

Food has always been a source of happiness, comfort and contentment for me as far back as I can remember. As a child I remember being able to fix my own snack at the age of three. My mom was so proud that I was so self-sufficient she would brag about it. “She can work the VCR and microwave all by herself. She made herself nachos the other day”. Being left to my own devices at such an early age left a hole that should have been filled with my parents nurturing and attention that I instead filled with television and you guessed it, food.

My addiction to food was so bad that at age 20 I was having my gallbladder removed due to all the greasy fatty food I ate on  daily basis. Having my gallbladder removed did complicate things a bit. After the surgery I was no longer able to enjoy spicy, fried or greasy foods without painful heart burn or horrible indigestion. Not to worry, I found a way around that. Thus began my taste for better quality and of course more expensive foods. I upgraded from $.99 Jumbo Jack with no pickles and no tomatoes to a $12 grass feed, no hormone, local Rodeo Goat burger. Not only was there a great disparity in the burgers prices but also in their flavor. The more expensive burger wins, no contest.

This of course is also why the majority of my expendable cash goes to my credit card payment. If I ever want to go do something fun, I try a new restaurant. If I’m ever celebrating a birthday or milestone, I go eat somewhere fancy (expensive). If I am meeting up with friends, we chose a place known for their good food. If I am spending time alone and I want to treat myself, I visit one of my favorite restaurants. Most of my happy moments in life center around food. Not just any old food but the places with the best coconut cream pie, the place with the best steak, the restaurant with the best lobster bisque, the spot with the best pizza. If I’m in the mood for a delicious cupcake from J. Rae’s but the only thing in walking distance is the Cupcakery, well then I’ll just pass on a cupcake today.

So to answer the question for is not just for life, it is life, my passion, my love. It is one of my favorite topics and I am always up for discussing it. I love recommending places I’ve been to with amazing dishes or dishes that I whip up at home. And when I partner commends me on a delicious meal I’ve prepared it truly brings me joy. This probably won’t be my last post about food but thank you for letting me share a little bit of my happiness with you

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Live to Eat.” Some people eat to live, while others live to eat. What about you? How far would you travel for the best meal of your life? <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/live-to-eat/”>Live   to Eat</a>