Aside from being a weird Gen-X former raver, I am a normal person. I’m a mom to a 4 year-old. I talk to my mother almost every day. I forget my passwords on a regular basis.
I have the audacity to think that I can manage a creative life. In the expensive and technology-focused Bay Area. I have the audacity to believe that I can do a lot of different things in my short (120 they are now saying?? But I was a smoker…) time on planet earth.
I was once an art student and briefly, a video artist. I’ve written a book on the transformation of Juba, South Sudan, built a digital archive and storytelling project on the Iranian American diaspora, and directed a short film, “The Sky is the Same Color.” I’m currently in the process of staging a play, Vozarah, with the 51st Street Theater Company.
I’m in the sixth year of writing a novel, and during that time I’ve actually learned how to write, and experienced many methods of abject humiliation in getting it workshopped. I will be the first to tell you that it is not (yet) good, and I see no light at the end of any tunnel as of yet. However. I gave birth to a human being. I wrote a doctoral thesis. I wrote an academic book based on fieldwork in South Sudan, during which I lived in a tent, got malaria AND typhoid. I ran a marathon. Once. In 5 hours and 45 minutes. When I was 25. But still. I have pictures to prove it.
I can do this.
What else? After SIX years of commuting from Oakland to Monterey (5 hours roundtrip), 2-3 days a week, I am resolving to be less sedentary. I’m giving the finger to all the fitbit-wearing people in my midst, and getting up from my chair/couch/bed and either swimming, walking, or cycling for 20 minutes a day. Just writing that makes me feel old, but I’m telling you, a commute will cause rapid deterioration like nothing else.