Category: Blog

Blog, Ramblings, Writing

Christmas Eve Thoughts

Alexandra Alessandri

There’s nothing better than spending Christmas Eve with family, except maybe spending it with family you don’t see often, along with those you see every day, in a manner that reminds you of your childhood.

I was blessed to have that kind of Christmas Eve.

We drove the almost-two-hour trek to my cousin’s house where this year’s celebration was being held. Making this Christmas that more special was the fact that family from Colombia and Germany were joining us. Though we were missing some family, this was the largest gathering we’d had in a while! I sat with my cousins, and we started with the “Remember when?” We giggled and laughed, and I swear time shifted and we were teenagers again, at my aunt’s townhouse, when she lived in Miami, sitting in the front steps and talking about boys.

Once everyone was there, we started novena. Colombians partake in novenas, where, for the nine days leading up to the birth of El Nino Dios on Christmas Day, we gather with family, sing villancicos (Christmas songs), and recall the story of the birth of Christ. The last of the novenas is read on Christmas Eve. Our family is no exception, and though I might not hold onto that tradition every day, I do try to make at least a few novenas, especially if there will be a large group. They’re one of my favorite traditions. This year’s Christmas Eve novena, though, was even more special. My uncles took out their guitars, my aunt passed out the maracas, panderetas, and other noise makers, and the signing commenced. We sand Tutaina, Los Peces en el Rio, Antontiruliroliro, A la Nanita Nana. We ate bunuelos, natilla, empanadas and arroz con leche. Then we passed around the book with the novena readings and those of us brave enough to trying out our rusty Spanish read our part. When it all ended, my aunt read some thoughts she’d penned earlier that day, about love, and family, and their mother (my grandmother) celebrating with us in spirit, and about never forgetting the love that was promised with the birth of El Nino Dios. It was beautiful, and most of us cried. Good crying. We were happy and blessed because we were together.

Isn’t that what Christmas is about? About the love that began because God sent his only Son to Earth because he LOVED us?

And so what if Christmas really didn’t happen on December 25. So what if the celebrating straddles the solemn and the festive. It’s a time to rejoice and love!

Yesterday, I was blessed because it was a day spent with family, first my husband’s, then my own. In each of these homes, the promise of family and love was present, and we enjoyed something more precious than any tangible gift can provide: we enjoyed each other and the gift of family, and love.

It’s days (and nights) like yesterday, when family comes together, that I’m reminded family is the thread that holds our past, our present, and our future together. I am grateful and blessed to have such an amazing family, immediate and extended.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

 

Blog, Writing

Writing is desire

Alexandra Alessandri

There are times, when I least expect it, that a barrage of words, characters, and scenes assault my mind and my senses. Sometimes, I welcome them as they happen during my allocated writing times. Other times, however, they come at the worst times, when I’m exhausted or on the brink of sleep or some other human function. They attack, full force, so I can do little but succumb. They fill me to the point that if I don’t sit and write, I implode. It’s desire and want and need and love and hate all rolled into a neat but over-charged rubber-band ball.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Blog, Health

Coming off the steroids!

Alexandra Alessandri

At my last rheumatologist appointment, I received some good news: I can start weaning off the methylprednisolone (which is a corticosteroid to help battle the inflammation and, as a result, ease the pain). It’s meant to be for temporary use, but I’ve been on it for almost the entire semester, much longer than I’d hoped. I’ve been lucky that it’s worked really well for me, and that the worst side effect is on the annoying side: stubborn weight gain. Like many drugs, I can’t stop it suddenly or it can trigger some pretty adverse reactions, including, apparently, a fatal one (especially if taken for a long time, and apparently, four months is considered a long time). So wean I shall.

I’m a little nervous, too, because I’m terrified of withdrawal side effects similar to those I had earlier this year, when I stopped taking the Tramadol. It was awful and I have no desire to go through that again. I’m hoping the tapering works with minimal effects, and soon, I’ll have one less drug I have to take.

I counted the other day. Between prescribed medicines and vitamins and supplements, I’m taking fifteen pills/gummies per day from the following: methylprednisolone, Plaquenil, neurontin, Vimovo, omeprazole, vitamin D, omega-3, Juice Blends Vineyard blend, Culturelle and papaya enzymes. No wonder I have some bad gastritis! I also find it ironic that I have to take medicines to combat side effects from other medicines.

So in about a month, I’ll be down one and I’m hoping to be able to get off a few more by the summer. I hate (really, really hate) taking so may things. But I think I hate the pain even more.

Since I’ve been more stable, I’ve had less pain, more energy, and I’ve been able to not only survive this term, but actually enjoy it. I almost feel normal. I was able to take a class and write 11,500 words of new material for my book. I was able to teach and grade and work on committees (though yes, more limited than in previous terms). I was able to have fun with my family. Now towards the end, some pain is creeping in, telling me, I’m sure, that I need to rest. Slow down. Or, like my doctor reminded me this past Monday, reduce stress. No stress. Stress is bad. Very bad.

The semester ends on a good, hopeful note. I hope it stays that way!

Blog, Writing

Eye-candy or… a snack?

Alexandra Alessandri

The project I’m working on now is YA which, I’ve come to find out as I trudge through writing the scenes, feels quite natural. I think the teenager in me (I’m 32 now) was yearning to be released and is ecstatic at this chance to shine. For my “research” in getting the voice just right, I’ve been tapping into the journals I kept back then, talking to my students, talking to family who is roughly the same age as my characters, and I’ve found that, for the most part, I’m pretty dead on (let’s see if that holds up!)

Every once in a while, though, I get caught up in terminology or phrases that I’m not sure sixteen- or seventeen-year-olds would say today.

Like eye-candy.

One of my characters is a total flirt. She loves boys and loves flirting and, in one of my scenes calls the guys she’s watching “eye-candy.”

In my Novel Writing workshop through UCLA Writers Extension Program (side note: UCLA Writers Extension classes rock! I’ve been so blessed and lucky to have had wonderful instructors who’ve provided much-needed guidance and structure in my otherwise crazy world), one of my classmates commented that “eye-candy” seemed a bit old for sixteen, which baffled me a little since I was almost positive I’d heard that phrase from students and my neighbor’s fourteen-year-old daughter. But for the sake of research, I asked some of my female students what terms they used when talking about cute/hot guys.

I got… a snack. This, according to my students, is what they’re now using to refer to cute boys. A snack. As in, he’s such a snack. What a snack.

Really? Somehow, that seems just as demeaning as…. I don’t know, calling a cute/hot girl something edible. Edible and cuteness factor just don’t seem to mix. Maybe I’m not such a teen after all! (Though, I have NEVER heard the teenagers on the Disney Channel’s shows call cute guys a snack!)

I wonder what other terms exist today that I’m not used to. Please share them if you know of any!

Blog, Health, Ramblings

Fall, Back?

Alexandra Alessandri

The weather in South Florida is finally starting to cool off. The stagnant heat of the summer has gone, and in its place is a cool breeze to offset the warm day, beautiful clear skies, and lower humidity. It’s awesome (though it would be even more awesome if the temperature dropped just a bit more. Our highs are still between 75 and 85 degrees.

But what I really love is that the cooler temperatures mean the start of the holiday season.  We start decorating with fall in mind since September. We bring out pumpkins, scarecrows, cinnamon sticks and our home is decked out in harvest decor. For Halloween, we stick to the “cutesy” decorations– having a four-year-old really makes me want to stay away from any gore and brains and zombies. While I might love my vampires, I don’t plan on exposing my son to these just yet. And I certainly don’t want nightmares and interrupted sleep (from him).

We had the time change two weekends ago, right after Halloween, and while I normally grumble about dusk coming earlier, I’ve actually been enjoying starting the day a bit earlier. It means we’ve been on time to school and work! My son is going to bed slightly earlier, and I’ve had some more quiet time at night. And in the mornings, we’re up by 6:30, which gives us enough time to handle the morning tasks without falling behind.

This semester has gone by faster than previous ones. It’s bittersweet because I have some great students, and I’m going to miss the classroom interactions after the term is over. I always hope students keep in touch because something that makes me love my job as a teacher is seeing them move on, seeing them graduate, get jobs–succeed. It makes me proud.

I’ve also been, in some ways, more stable (health-wise). I think I’ve learned to listen (for the most part) to my body and I rest when I need to. The medicines and extra vitamins have helped, too, and so I’ve been able to get part of my life back. But my body keeps me in check. Just when I start getting too comfortable with a certain routine, it reminds me I need to take it easy. This has been a day-by-day process, but I’m relieved I am feeling better than I was this time last year. The only hiccup now is that I have gallstones (eeek!), which explains some stomach-related issues, so now I wait for my follow-up with the gastroenterologist. Gotta keep things interesting, right?

On the writing front, I’ve been on an adrenaline rush because I’m ecstatic that I’ve been able to keep up. I had my doubts, what with the stress of the semester, but I’m almost done for this term! And I’m going places with my project that I had only hoped. It’s really let me appreciate the creative process when it comes to longer projects. My characters surprise me each day, and the satisfaction I feel when I finish writing the scenes, even if they’re not perfect or I might not keep them, is overwhelming. I am making progress. It’s taking shape. I understand why this process is likened to giving birth: because after you’re done, you feel like you’ve created life, with blood, sweat and tears (clichés, anyone?). You are given the role of creator, and once you’ve created, you follow your characters as their story becomes clear through writing and rewriting. It’s beautiful. And painful. And frustrating (especially when you go from the euphoria of a particularly smooth scene to the agony of trying to write during a block).

I wouldn’t change this for the world.

Blog, Ramblings

Moment in time

Alexandra Alessandri

Though I don’t like working late, I do like that I get to witness how the sky turns pink and violet as the sun sets, and how the black birds fly in bursts, then rest on the power lines. If I lower the windows to the car, I hear the familiar cawing and shrieking; it reminds me so much of my late afternoon walks with my mom, when I was a child, as we passed by the “bird hotel,” like my mom called it, because in those late afternoon hours, the only sounds and sights came from the birds. Those were simple, sweet times, moments in time that I cherish…

Blog, Ramblings

The end of an era

Alexandra Alessandri

There’s not much different about today. I’m sitting at my usual Starbucks, watching the steady stream of people walk in for their morning fix: Americano, cafe late, white chocolate mocha, salted caramel mocha frapuccino, iced (or hot) tea. I see them chatting with the baristas and the manager. I take breaks, too, and talk about classes and books, and then turn back to my computer as the next group comes in.

But there’s a thick scent of sadness that tinges an otherwise beautiful, and crisp, Friday morning. Today’s their last day open.

The news, taped to the door about a month ago, came as a shock to most of us who’ve been faithful customers over the last decade. We shook our heads in disbelief, murmured how such a thing could be– this place was always full. In the mornings and afternoons, when you’d most likely find me here, the line many times passed the door. Their tables were almost alway occupied.

But still, we came. Because of the people that worked in this Starbucks. They are the reason this Starbucks rocked, why we’re sad its closing. I often think of the TV show Cheers, and the theme song plays in the back of my mind:

Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
Wouldn’t you like to get away?
Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
and they’re always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.
You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name.

This is my place. I’m going to miss it. I can get my coffee somewhere else, sure– that’s not what I’m going to miss. I’m going to miss Bo, Victoria, James, Ethan, and all the other friends I’ve made in this place. I’m going to miss talking about books and religion and life. I’m going to miss the smiles and jokes.

It’s the end of an era.

Blog, Ramblings, Writing

Ear-deep in anxiety

Alexandra Alessandri

Nothing like mid-semester to bring on the anxiety. Part of me is wondering what the hell I was thinking… classes, papers, grading, writing, critique groups…. and doctor visits, anxiety attacks, pain and fatigue. Fun stuff.

But another part of me keeps saying I can do this, and I need to do this.

I started writing scenes for my story. I finally moved past the character sketches, past the talk –I’m finally in. And it feels great. So I have to hold onto those moments that push me forward and glide through this term.

Here’s me holding on…

Blog, Ramblings

Another birthday passed, a better year in sight

Alexandra Alessandri

I’m normally a huge birthday hog. I love them. Perhaps it’s my attempt at making up for all the birthdays that passed with just a simple chuckle from my dad. “We didn’t celebrate birthdays in my day,” he’d say, year after year. “Everything was simple. The boys would get new pants. The girls would get a new dress.” That’s it. Of course, this is what I remember from my preteen/teen years. There are pictures that show, when I was a child (anywhere between 1 and 8), I did, indeed, have birthday parties. And my dad was part of them. I don’t actually remember these parties, though. So year after year, I make a big deal of my birthday. I don’t want to celebrate one day; I want a whole birthday month!

But this year, I was content in smaller scale celebration. No big party for me; no drinking, no late night. I didn’t even harp on everyone the way I normally would.

First of all, I can’t (or rather shouldn’t) mix alcohol with my meds, and second of all, I’m just too tired. My birthday was Wednesday, and after working all day, the last thing on my mind was going out to party. No sir. Instead, we went to my mom’s house and had a beautiful dinner with my mom’s signature dish –lasagna– and relaxed, talked, and laughed. It was perfect.

The day was actually one of my most relaxing birthdays, and though I was tired from my son’s recent night wakings, I really enjoyed it. I was surrounded by love. My students, the day before, surprised me with a small cake and sang “Happy Birthday.” My husband and son started my day with gifts, cards, big hugs, and a sweetly sung “Happy Birthday.” Friends and family called and left messages on Facebook. At every moment of the day, I felt loved. And that’s what birthdays are for, to celebrate the life of those we love, and to celebrate a year passed and to hope for a brighter, better year.

So I’m thirty-two now. The last two years have been a fast-moving, nausea-inducing ride. There have been too many unwelcome changes in my health that have hurled me into a third-life crisis. But this birthday brings with it hope for a better year.

Cheers!

Blog, Writing

I Don’t Remember — A writing prompt

Alexandra Alessandri

I recently gave my class this writing assignment: Write what you don’t remember. It’s a nice twist to one of my favorite prompts (I remember). One of my students asked, “Well, if you don’t remember, how can you write it down?” The key to “I don’t remember” is that in naming what you don’t remember, you inadvertently trigger memories. Memory begets memory. It’s beautiful, really.

For example:

I don’t remember living in Queens, New York. I was five and though I get flashes of memories that walk me through that year, mostly, I don’t remember. What I do remember is the feel of the brick building that held my kindergarden class, where I got lost because I couldn’t understand the teacher’s instructions (since Spanish was what I learned at home) and instead of the playground, I was in the dark, cold hallway with my backpack and lunchbox. Alone. I remember being afraid. I must have cried, too. But that I don’t remember.

I also don’t remember where I lived, except that it was on a slope, and it was on an upper floor (third, perhaps?) because I remember the stairs with dark, wooden walls and the musky smell of closed spaces. I remember my Strawberry Shortcake comforter for my twin bed, though mostly because I have a picture of it with me right beside it: short, bobbed hair, black leotard and pink tights. I must have been taking ballet, though I clearly don’t remember that. I remember ballet in Miami, not in New York.

I remember my father’s fear, when he got mugged. I don’t remember how or when or why, except that I vaguely remember a story of him being taken by four men –or was it three?– and driven around, stripped of his wallet, money, and courage, only to be deposited back somewhere near our apartment, alive. He must have prayed, but I don’t remember him saying if he did. If he were alive, I’d ask him, but I don’t know that he’d remember.

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If you’re feeling a need for a writing prompt, try “I don’t remember” — happy writing!