#writersrow

Writer: Viveca Malave

Genre: Emotional, Non-Fiction

How long have you been writing?: I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I've always been artistic in every way. I remember my first time writing a poem was in 1st grade. 

Professionally or as Hobby?: Definitely hobby. I remember thinking when I was younger, "**** I shouldn't have taken this job at X, whenever I make a hobby my job, I start hating my hobby. And job." Which means I stop doing what I love. And I don't want to start hating writing.

What inspired the piece?: I came back from grocery shopping. 

Why did you choose to share this one?: I was invited to join this writing movement on tumblr (haha) by a good friend, and I knew the second she asked me to submit a piece, that this was the one that had to be submitted. It wants to be read. 

Viveca Malave shares:

It's not always the pain that makes you cry. It's not always the sharp, piercing, burning fire in your knees, or the relief you feel when you're pain is only a 7 out of 10. It's not the tingling from the tip of your fingers to the top of your shoulders that tells your brain the dull aching is going to start at any time. It's not that the fact that you have to lie to friends and family when they ask “Are you in pain right now?” No, sometimes it's the looks you receive in the supermarket when you're riding in your electric cart. The looks you get in your wheelchair. A few of those glances are a quick moments of pitiful eyes. A few are sympathetic yet encouraging smiles. And believe it or not, an occasional annoyed look . Because when an uptight woman needs a frozen lemonade which happens to be on the shelf above your head, she feels the need to aggressively capture this wild lemonade canister that might run to another freezer at any second. When you and your mobile cart are in the way, things can get nasty.

It's interesting to feel this way at 22. It's also difficult to watch people your age run around in heels and short shorts or skin tight dresses while you're sitting on some rock outside of the mall in your knee braces paired with pants to cover them up, waiting for your husband to drive back in the parking lot to pick you, your cane, and your crippled ass up. It's interesting. Sometimes so interesting that it makes you cry.

And then you have thoughts. Thoughts that take over your brain and make it uncomfortable to be in your own body. Life shouldn't be lived this way, you think. Life should be happier, pain free, especially at these young ages! But it's not. It's not, not even for those people running in those ten inch heels; not even for those people flirting with them. Life isn't lived as a happy, care-free, pain-free experience. Pain hurts no matter who you are. No matter where the pain is coming from. And sometimes it's easy to forget that.

It's not always the pain that makes you cry. It's not always the depression, the anger, the helplessness. No, sometimes it's the moments that you read a story out loud, a story you've written when you come back from a supermarket, or when you get home after a trip to the mall. Sometimes it's when you feel the need to read what you've written out loud to your husband, your therapist, your mother. Or sometimes it's when you read it to yourself.

Hope this post finds everyone in good health and creative spirit. I'm please to share that I've been selected as a reader/performer for Writer's Row celebrating the written art at the vibrant Downtown Los Angeles Art Walk. Your presence is deeply appreciated. Come on out LA Tumblr peeps and show some love. Any tumblr Tshirts for a cool look on stage?