The season is a strange one, full of highs and lows, winter and spring all in a month. The ground thaws, freezes. The leap day approaches, and tonight, the moon is full. I watched the waves yesterday, renewed my passport, had a fun texting session with a dear friend, and then, hours later, I found myself in tears by noon. The kind of crying that leaves your eyes tired. The whole what am I do with this life before me, and is what I am doing in any way truly fulfilling?
A friend dropped by with a gift of a bright-colored beauty of a scarf. She returned to her studio to paint. I dubbed the scarf Happiness.
Lately I’ve been writing, and publishing, small essays. Some links:
A book review of The Parthenon Enigma by Joan Breton Connelly:
An essay on bullying, menopause, and finding voice on poet Jenna Shwartz’s The Roar Sessions:
A new draft of the novel is done, and handed in. The doubts emerge. I think already of newer revisions. I think of a new book, about a man growing grapes on a wall in the garden. His wife drifts by with shears in her hands.
Friday, the yard smelled like March, that mix of thaw and bloom that made no sense in January. But a few days later, it is February, and March with bulbs and tubers putting out small shoots isn’t far. Of course, some bulbs already sprung, tricked by the weather, only to freeze green overnight. The blizzard came and went.
Meanwhile, my brother went to the White House. He says he actually went to the building next to the West Wing, The Eisenhower, but really, it is the White House.
I was interviewed by Sima Mishra, a writer from Princeton, NJ for the AWP Writer’s Chronicle, which appeared this month. The magazine is usually found in MFA in Fiction dept. offices but I hope it goes on-line. Sima and I spent a long time conversing over many sessions, and we discuss what it means to be South Asian, female, and to write.
Jenna Schwartz invited me to contribute to her online group, The Roar Sessions, and I wrote about, as Jenna rightly says, mean girls and the promise of menopause: