For Halloween this year, I made myself a simple shark costume. I created paper patterns for the shark teeth and eyes, cut the shapes out of felt, and then hand-stitched them to the hood of a gray sweatshirt.
I enjoyed sewing by hand. It was something that I haven’t done in a very long time—literally years. While I meditatively worked with the needle and thread, I thought of my grandmother, Consuelo, who taught me to sew when I was a young girl. It was a skill I had pretty much forgotten that I possessed.
The costume turned out pretty great. It wasn’t perfect, but it was unique and handcrafted—by me.
And I wondered: why don’t I spend more time being creative? More specifically, why don’t I write more often?
I started this blog six years ago when I was on maternity leave. At a time when I had to give my son everything, I wanted one thing that was mine. And I wanted to do writing that was beyond the boundaries of a career in marketing and communications that constantly requires me to adopt somebody else’s voice.
When people ask me, “What do you write about in your blog?” I say that I write about whatever I want. And I do. I write about high-end sushi and gas station food, kale salads, and whether Filipino food is embarrassing.
I want to devote more time to writing, and so I’ve decided to participate in National Blog Posting Month, or NaBloPoMo. I am committing to regularly-scheduled creative time.