Sovereign

A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.

-Eleanor Roosevelt

Sovereignty lies

in her emerald eyes

sharpened

by seeing in the darkness.

Notes from the Real World: I could not believe my good luck when artist Michelle Kennedy (known in the blogosphere as Sunshine Shelle) agreed to do the artwork for my cover. Her artwork already graces the banner of this blog, and I knew she was the perfect person to capture what I was hoping for in the cover of this book. Shelle's style naturally combines the sweetness and darkness I hope comes across in most of my stories.

Once I decided I wanted Rowena (the main character of "What's A Little Blood to a Mother's Heart?") to be the cover girl, I sent Shelle a copy of the story and gave her some general guidelines. I was blown away by the end product, especially with the tiny details she came up with. The little mementos on the shelf behind her - she totally captured Rowena's love for the natural world with the small plants in water amid different depictions of animals. The lace table cloth (and wow - the brushwork on that) adds to the feeling of gentleness and old-fashioned comfort. But it's the expression on Rowena's face that Shelle captured that impressed me the most... sweet, but somewhat unsettling. And what is that tiny bottle tucked away among all her other things?

Shelle's painting is a story unto itself, surpassing my already high expectations. Go on and head to her Instagram and approach some of her other marvelously expressive pieces  as if they might whisper their secrets to you, so long as you attend patiently to them.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Once Upon a Dream covered by Lana Del Rey 

Sun

Water is the mother of tea, a teapot its father, and fire the teacher. ~ Chinese Proverb

His sunshine is too big

to fit the dimensions others demand

for a pity poster boy.

He'll shred that poster

and burn it up in his flight

to the sky he chooses for himself.

Notes from the Real World: So I am not the only Driks to get published in 2018. My son Max had an article accepted by Public Source (a digital news source based out of Pittsburgh) about his experiences growing up as a person on the Autism spectrum that was published just as the year was taking its final bows.

There was a time when most of the discussion on the internet about children on the spectrum revolved around how hard the parents had it. While Max would be the first one to laugh if I said raising him was a breeze (and probably follow it up with a sheepish, "Sorry, Mom"), to claim it was all weariness and gloom would be a bigger joke. 

Firstly, there are always going to be challenging parts of parenthood. Good gods, even the Brady Bunch had their ups and downs. Secondly, I wouldn't wish away any part of my seriously witty, creative, off-beat kid young man. Raising him has been an honor. Getting to see how fired up he's become about writing (something that would probably come as a shock to some of his middle school teachers) is just a bonus. 

No matter where we come from, it is our own unique life experiences that shape and spark our voices as writers, whether we write fiction or non-fiction. I've been very candid with my son when we talk shop (between sessions of video game playing and political comedy watching) about how my experience as a first generation Latina-American shades a lot of the perspectives that come through in my writing (he was one of my first beta readers for my book and was able to spot the nuances - as well as get a good chuckle when he recognized the inspiration behind the budding storyteller enthralled by kooky hats).

He’s also talked to me about how important it was to him to have his voice as a person on the spectrum heard. On one such occasion, a look of dawning horror crossed over his face as he realized how passionate he was getting while discussing things like writing, representation, and authenticity of voice.

"I think I'm turning into you, Mom", he said.

"Sorry, Son," I replied. 

Song Choice: I could have gone so many ways with this. Baby Mine comes to mind when I remember sitting through IEP meetings with my husband, as we fiercely advocated for schooling that wasn't limited by the expectations people had for kids with a spectrum diagnosis. Dear Theodosia is a good fit because all of the pride I feel. And I have jokingly sang back lines from The Cat's in the Cradle to him when he remarks upon politics or writing ("My boy was just like me").

But there is one song I always associate with Max. Sometimes a song will pop into my head with no warning and it can be almost an omen of sorts. The moment I finished taking the pregnancy test that let me know Max was on his way, REM's The End of the World (As We Know It) popped on, right at the slow/ quiet part of the song (the guitar jam started right up as that blue line came into focus). When I was driving in the car, that song came on soon after Max's text to the family announcing the article's publication. I'll take that as a good omen for the birth of an author.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Neither is Max.

Photo by Ryan Loew/ Public Source

Planning

I am sort of a tea addict. I structure my day by cups of tea.

-S.T. Joshi

Include joy

when making plans

big enough to shift worlds.

Or risk

building a windowless castle

whose stones keep out the air.

Song Choice: Running Down a Dream by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Notes from the Real World: Ah, the day after Christmas, when my thoughts turn to… decorating! Decorating a fresh new planner that is. For the last few years, I’ve been trying to be consistent with keeping up some sort of planning system. I think I’ve finally found one that I love (thank you BenebellWen for creating a kick-ass planner for the metaphysically minded, even if you did take out the “Books Read” page on this year’s model). Though it took watching a planning video by Vlogger Jessi Huntenberg to really crystalize what it was I’ve been after by keeping up this practice.

At its worst, a planner is a glorified to-do list (a to-do list with lots of washi tape, stickers, and gel pen doodles in my case). And that’s not a terrible thing, because it’s harder to lose a planner than a list scribbled on the back of some junk mail (my favored organizational system in my 20’s). But it’s kind of a waste of money if that’s all it is.

It’s a place you thoughtfully figure out what it is that’s really important to you, so you can structure your actions to support that. It’s not just for keeping track of how busy you can be, but for noticing the natural way your days (weeks, months) flow and respecting your limits, especially when you actually can see when you peruse its pages that you are in danger of being overwhelmed or losing yourself in activities that don’t support the goals you set for yourself (you can in fact schedule your down time – and put all the cute stickers you want on the page to make a note of it). Because one of the worst feelings in the world, for me at least, is finding out you’ve been working like a fiend in a way that takes you farther from your goals rather than closer.

Moving ahead with my writing is clearly going to be one of my biggest goals of 2019. As I sit surrounded by ribbons and glitter pens the rest of this week, I’m going to be figuring out what S.M.A.R.T. steps I can take so when I’m sitting down again on Dec 26, 2019 I’ll know where my time went, how I used it to get better, where I missed the mark, and how to fix it.

Also I will be editing one page to make it a “Books Read” page and another for “Teas Tasted”. Because it’s important to make time for the sweet little pleasures. And also because I can. So there.

Because of course I chose the kitsune image for my planner cover.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Stretching

Stretching
towards sunlight
reminds tired muscles
boundaries can be pushed
again.

Song Choice: I'll Make a Man Out of You performed by Jackie Chan


I like tea and yoga, but I don’t do yoga.
-Moby

Notes from the real world:

A couple of months ago, I injured myself in a friendly game of sportsball* during an exercise class at work (I may have been taking out my ire over political events on unsuspecting coworkers). This was completely preventable had I bothered to warm up and then stretch, instead of jumping in like I was possessed by the ghost of Boudica. No more sportsball, no more aerobics or Zumba for me for at least a few weeks. Unable to face the risk of going mad from lack of activity, I grudgingly turned to a yoga DVD my husband had bought years ago.

Funny thing, I forgot how much I really enjoyed yoga. I think I stopped doing it because of misguided ideas about what it meant to challenge myself. But after a few weeks of doing it, and feeling a lot of improvement in my hip and in my overall body strength and flexibility, I realized it'd be really dumb of me move forward with any exercise plan that didn't include yoga, especially if it means I could get better  at the other physical stuff I'm doing. I don't limit myself to just matcha tea, so why should I limit the types of physical activity I do?

I've been giving a lot of thought to what comes next for me in terms of writing. I am coming out of what feels like an editing marathon, so a little down time is in order. But just like I don't like being physically inactive, I don't think could stay away from writing completely. Firstly, I can't, as Magaly has made sure I'm blogging regularly on Wednesdays. But even more than that, I forgot that sharing bits of the real world is both fun and qualifies as a disciplined writing practice. While it may take a couple more weeks for me to settle on The Next Big Goal (and let's be real, even when I pick something, I'll still need to take time to work out a good plan or writing outline) I'm kind of enjoying this. With all due respect to Moby, if you like something, why not do it, especially if it in no way impedes you (or might even help) in doing other things you love? It seems kind of silly not to. 

*Sportsball - What I call pretty much any game played with a ball. I'm really not much of an athlete, I just like to run around fast.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Camouflaged Colors Don't Please My Heart

I wanted to paint with bubbles,
slap new colors over thorns and roses.
But my palette wasn't right.

Artificial bright washing
drains an already weary heart
that needs to make its aching known,
despite attempts to force my mouth
into saying, "This is fine."

Things hide in false light. And they bite
leaving marks bleached away by lack of contrast,
so that we don't know we've been poisoned.

No. I need to reach for the right colors
to tell the truth waiting patiently amid the grays.

Perhaps the mood for brighter hues will return again.
But, when they do, they will be real,
not camouflage for what I don't want to see.



Linked to the Tuesday Platform for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads and Poetry Pantry 342 at Poet's United


Process Notes:  Recently it was my turn to create a prompt for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads. I came up with one I thought I was happy with, but when the day arrived, I found there was no way I could honestly get into the child-like spirit I had envisioned. The final product was more cynical teen than wide-eyed kid.

The truth is that after November 8th, it's not going to be easy for me to be upbeat on demand, even if I'm the one doing the demanding. As a wise friend and I later discussed, putting up a false self makes for lousy art. The only way I'm going to grow as a poet and a writer, is to be willing to work with the truth of who I am and write that.



Song Choice: Paint It Black covered by Ciara

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

The S Word

I pride myself on being a relatively intelligent person, but know I can be a stubborn one as well. For some some time now I've been thinking it might be best to go on a s-s- *cough* schedule. *shudders* (OK one of my friends has been strongly hinting it might be a help and I've finally decided to listen).

I don't know why the idea of a schedule (ugh!) makes me cringe so. It may be a tiny bit of defiance left over from my teen years where I insisted I was clever enough to get everything I needed to get done in time (usually at the last minute) and still get A's. My youthful arrogance got a hard smack of reality once I hit college. Oh I still did well, as long as I kept some sort of system to organize things.

So fast forward to today. I have so many things I want to learn and do in this lifetime and it has become sadly apparent I can't do them all. I need to prioritize (*pouts*) and organize (*cries*). I love writing, but I need to keep "office hours" that stay more or less steady and mesh with my other responsibilities (work, being a mom, being a wife). Organization sounds overly confining and limiting, especially when talking about artistic endeavors, but it also is a pretty good way to make sure I have time to enjoy doing what it is I like doing. 

I started feeling better about this whole organizing business when I put down my writing hours for both prose and poetry (as one of the newest Toads in the Imaginary Garden, I'm stoked to regularly participate there and over in Dash of Sunny as well). I scheduled in some review time for my other interests (shimmy drills, Japanese tea ceremony postures, and doodling all get their quick bursts of review time as a reward for other hard work). While a lot of my daily spiritual practices are reflexive at this point, I set aside some time for some extra development of knowledge bases I was interested in exploring. I even managed to formalize the way I do chores a bit better.

Yay, doodle time! 

So yes, I'm still a little leery about the whole schedule thing, but I've promised myself that I can be flexible and adjust things as time goes on. I also plan on giving myself goof off days once a month just to know there'll be one day I can bum around and do nothing if I want to. I'm cautiously optimistic this will all work out and that far from being rained upon, the passions in my life will march on in an orderly parade, rather than bang into each other like angry moshers. 

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Don't Rain On My Parade

A Thing To Wear

Lately I've been trying to wear full kimono to tea ceremony classes as a way to improve my technique. Some may joke, "How hard can that be? It's just wearing a robe, isn't it?" And I might even laugh back - through decidedly gritted teeth.

There's an art to kimono wearing, and it's a whole lot fussier than it might seem at first glance. A multitude of rules govern the proper wearing of one; there are schools that specialize in teaching people all the smallest details that take months, even years to complete. And if you're woman, the details of proper kimono wearing increase exponentially. Sometimes I look at the guys in my tea ceremony class, wishing I knew the Japanese version of "lucky bastards" so I could mutter it under my breath. They pretty much can stick to the same navy/gray/ brown color scheme year round while I'm scrambling to make sure the motifs in my kimono or it's style don't clash with the theme of the current time of year and coordinate with my obi.

I'm always a little surprised when people can't tell the difference between men's and women's kimono, though then again I've had more exposure to the culture than others have had. When I wrote my first Yuuki story around 10 years ago I played around with the idea of Westerners being somewhat clueless regarding this. I also thought the story was done as it was, until a certain Instigator insisted there was a bigger story in there. I mulled over her input and a.) realized the Instigator was right (stop cackling you!) and b.) while the other characters in the original story could plausibly be ignorant about the differences in kimono, as I expanded out the world it made no sense that no one else knew. 

So I played around with his (yes his) back story a bit, researched some and discovered that while Yuuki generally identifies as male, he's fascinated with onagata of the Edo era, popular male actors skilled at impersonating females. To him, they are sort of kindred spirits, being able to change their appearance if not as easily as a kitsune might, still with a certain level of skill. This draws him to a more colorful and fem aesthetic. That tweaks things only a tiny bit from my original story (which I haven't published here or anywhere as of yet, and as the Instigator suggested might be more novella or even novel length rather than short story length - stop cackling already!) but I'm glad that I took the time to get to understand Yuuki better to give him the story he deserves. It also made me appreciate the prettiness of my kimono more, and I do feel pretty when I wear them. But I still feel exasperated when I have to fold them; there are rules for that too. 

Fan Print #2 (Uchiwa-e) by Toyohara Kunichika (an onigata with a lover)

Song Choice: I Feel Pretty

Les Enfants Miserables

I got very excited when I heard that the musical for one of my children's school was going to be Les Miserable. I loved it as a teen! It would be so much fun to watch the movie version with my kids, as I have done with every play they've gotten involved in. Then I remembered Fushigi Yuugi.

Let me backtrack a bit. Fushigi Yuugi is one of my favorite anime series. I like to re-watch it from time to time and a bit ago, one of the children expressed an interest in watching it along with me. Sure, why not? I should state that this was the more sensitive of the two children and while this isn't the goriest or most violent anime series by a long shot the TV trope "Anyone Can Die" fully applied to this one, as well as "Woobie, Destroyer of Worlds". But we've watched Dr. Who and most of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which is certainly more gory and violent), so this shouldn't be so bad.

Yeah, not so much.

I was pretty surprised by how into it the child was, and how the above tropes and all the other attendant twists and terms of plot affected them. We actually had a version of this famous conversation watching the show. The other child noticed their sibling getting quite involved in the show (though there was No Way In Hell the first child would admit it) and asked to watch too. Now this is my not quite as sensitive child who took the sad parts of Dr. Who and Buffy in stride often going to the next activity merrily while the other one glared at them for not fully giving in to the pathos involved. The first child did not want to watch with the second at all, sure that this would be the case again.

Until it wasn't.

We now refer to Fushigi Yuugi as the series that taught the second child "the feels". Oh yeah, the Princess Bride conversation happened again. As well as the lower lip going, and tissues being grabbed.

And the first child LOVED it. After the first death, the first child insisted on being in the room to witness the other child finally learning fandom feels. And it didn't stop there. My niece and nephew also got to watch the series and while each of them had their moments of "Oh my god - they did not just die, did they?", that set of siblings also got joy knowing the other one (and my kids as well) had an attack of the feels at the exact same spots.

So, back to Les Miserables. I sat the kids down and told them they had the option of watching the movie if they wanted to. "It isn't called Les Happy Peoples", I said. "It's Les Miserables for a reason. I knew of at least one person who went through a dark night of the soul after watching it". Their eyes got wide, but then they looked at each other... and the question is no longer who dies but who will break first.

Kids...amirite?

So sure, we'll probably watch it. And I've invited my niece and nephew along for the viewing (I know at least one of them really likes musicals) and while there will be sad feels, each of them will take comfort in the fact the others feel it too.

Song choice: I was kind of feeling Sad Songs (Say So Much) by Elton John, but let's face it. With those two Schadenfreude from Avenue Q is a better choice.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Update From the Real World

I think this might be my first blog post about real world happenings in a while. I've been really focused on living up to the promise I made to myself to get enough short stories written to have a real *gulp* book ready for publication. I have two stories that need a second run through, a Yuuki story that is ready for another pair of eyes besides mine, a Rina story started and notes/ outlines on a couple more stories, including a Cordelia one. I originally thought I'd have seven in this collection, but that might be too little. I'll have to see what all of them look like once they've been edited at least once before I decide.

In between writing, I've been working on tea and belly dance. I find I can write a bit better if I keep active in between writing sessions. I think I'm finally getting this new tea form, which means they'll be throwing another one at me soon. Also I had the chance to play with my veil fans again on Monday night lesson. I forgot how much I loved working with those props. It makes me want to dust off the routine I choreographed for them awhile back.

I'll be back with a new poem for the blog soon. In the meantime, let me know if you'd like to see more real world updates from me from time to time.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Tea sweets from a recent lesson. The classmate who made them is quite talented!

Song Choice: Here I Am by Sertab (this is the song I choreographed the veil fan routine to)