There's a brief magical time
when I lie in bed
cuddling my warm lap top.
The sleeping pill starts its lull-a-bye
pulling me to the soft spot
Where consciousness, sub-consciousness,
and unconsciousness meet.
I write, and post, and chat.
My thumbs dash off misspelled texts,
I blog and my thoughts mingle
With Queen Mab as my editor.
In the morning, I awake.
Cookie boxes, water bottles and socks
Amid books, papers and dreams.
I open my laptop and begin
To retrace my dreams and ego droppings
Left under a URL pillow.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
So Screwed
Co-dependence makes sense.
It came as a shock to me when my therapist told me I was co-dependent. Even after she told me and I skimmed a few books, I didn't get it. I remember asking people, "How is being a good, loyal wife any different than being co-dependent?"
I stick. I put on a smile, take a Xanax, and stick. I try like a saint to fix it and endure...both of my chief ingredients in my formula to a happy marriage. After 10 years of a pleasant marriage, my husband became a gambler and a verbally abusive alcoholic. He had always lied so that wasn't new. For the next 5 years, he ruined us financially, insulted and degraded me, and terrified our children. Finally, I left with my girls after another especially rugged five years of rabbit punches to my sanity. And then, after months of arrests, frauds, and vulgar voice mails, he joins AA and gets better.
Now he wants to make it up to me and make amends. He is better than he has ever been. Kind, thoughtful, loving, reflective, and sober.
However, this one fact is impaled in the back of my mind and I cannot extricate it: He was bad when I was there, and he got better when I was gone.
Oh, yeah, co-dependence is a mother-fucker.
It came as a shock to me when my therapist told me I was co-dependent. Even after she told me and I skimmed a few books, I didn't get it. I remember asking people, "How is being a good, loyal wife any different than being co-dependent?"
I stick. I put on a smile, take a Xanax, and stick. I try like a saint to fix it and endure...both of my chief ingredients in my formula to a happy marriage. After 10 years of a pleasant marriage, my husband became a gambler and a verbally abusive alcoholic. He had always lied so that wasn't new. For the next 5 years, he ruined us financially, insulted and degraded me, and terrified our children. Finally, I left with my girls after another especially rugged five years of rabbit punches to my sanity. And then, after months of arrests, frauds, and vulgar voice mails, he joins AA and gets better.
Now he wants to make it up to me and make amends. He is better than he has ever been. Kind, thoughtful, loving, reflective, and sober.
However, this one fact is impaled in the back of my mind and I cannot extricate it: He was bad when I was there, and he got better when I was gone.
Oh, yeah, co-dependence is a mother-fucker.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Negative Space
Snowflakes drift solidly down landing on endless snowbanks
At first standing out unique but eventually relenting
And becoming part of the mass of absorbed flakes.
Birds light together but separate,
Scattered at first, they come together as a flock
Silently turning, thinking, flying as one.
A winter-bare tree explodes into bud every Spring.
Without a sigh, thousands of vibrant green leaves
Fight their way from tight-fisted coccoons.
An old woman falling a sleep forever,
The electric quiet before the bell,
A drifting petal, the rings on a pond,
A lover's kiss.
These are the sounds that ring in my ear.
At first standing out unique but eventually relenting
And becoming part of the mass of absorbed flakes.
Birds light together but separate,
Scattered at first, they come together as a flock
Silently turning, thinking, flying as one.
A winter-bare tree explodes into bud every Spring.
Without a sigh, thousands of vibrant green leaves
Fight their way from tight-fisted coccoons.
An old woman falling a sleep forever,
The electric quiet before the bell,
A drifting petal, the rings on a pond,
A lover's kiss.
These are the sounds that ring in my ear.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Ambien Ramblings
I "was over served" the other night (that ubiquitous term for being embarrassingly drunk in public). So sitting at the bar I started bragging to my two new best friends about how much I love valium and xanax. I even gave them a couple from my purse, which they snatched up more quickly than dirty bath water goes down the drain. Then they warned me to be careful. I wasn't doing anything illegal. But the bartender came over and told me to change my conversation or I would have to go. I sky rocketed from drunken cockiness to drunken indignation, and trust me there is no indignation like that of an indignant drunk. I left and got driven home.
Flash forward two months. Having a cup of tea in a restaurant bar waiting for my girls' matinee to end. They have Fuel TV on all their big screens. A blindfolded man is unknowingly licking the asshole of another man. This is supposedly hilarious to the panel. At lunch yesterday, at a local Mexican restaurant, Fuel TV is playing on all TVs except one. They are having excerpts on this day from girl on girl sex from the Playboy channel.
Hmmm? Just saying.
Flash forward two months. Having a cup of tea in a restaurant bar waiting for my girls' matinee to end. They have Fuel TV on all their big screens. A blindfolded man is unknowingly licking the asshole of another man. This is supposedly hilarious to the panel. At lunch yesterday, at a local Mexican restaurant, Fuel TV is playing on all TVs except one. They are having excerpts on this day from girl on girl sex from the Playboy channel.
Hmmm? Just saying.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Poem #2
Is there a dress out there for me to buy?
That clings and swirls and makes me young again,
One I will wear to give it one more try
To attract a glance, a smile and a man.
Are there arms out there to hold me softly?
Bringing me close and holding me tight.
Strong arms that make me small but safe to be
There with a man who understands the night.
Are there lips out there to kiss me once more?
To focus the warmth, mingle my breath,
Falling into a cherry sweet embrace,
Whiskers scratching cheeks across and in depth
Is there another man out there for me?
To love and protect me and keep me safe,
Who won't lie and yell and forget to be
A man who will honor me all in good faith.
That clings and swirls and makes me young again,
One I will wear to give it one more try
To attract a glance, a smile and a man.
Are there arms out there to hold me softly?
Bringing me close and holding me tight.
Strong arms that make me small but safe to be
There with a man who understands the night.
Are there lips out there to kiss me once more?
To focus the warmth, mingle my breath,
Falling into a cherry sweet embrace,
Whiskers scratching cheeks across and in depth
Is there another man out there for me?
To love and protect me and keep me safe,
Who won't lie and yell and forget to be
A man who will honor me all in good faith.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Forgiveness
Harry has been sober now for 86 days...85, I guess, since today is just beginning. It is wonderful to see him going back to the man I loved. He is anxious to get me back with all my bells and whistles: daughters, support, intimacy, and friendship...plus I am a damn good cook.
That's not easy. He has lied to me for such a long time. That, more than the verbal abuse and neglect, hurts. And I can't wash away the shame and anger as easily as I should. Or shouldn't I? Many of his new friends guarantee that we will know a greater level of intimacy and love if we come back to one another. They also say that he will be successful once again if he just doesn't drink. I cannot lie: I have a lot of fear.
I stubbornly hold on to my marriage. Why?
"I've looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take and still somehow,
It's love's illusions I recall.
I really don't know love at all."
-Joanie Mitchell
That's not easy. He has lied to me for such a long time. That, more than the verbal abuse and neglect, hurts. And I can't wash away the shame and anger as easily as I should. Or shouldn't I? Many of his new friends guarantee that we will know a greater level of intimacy and love if we come back to one another. They also say that he will be successful once again if he just doesn't drink. I cannot lie: I have a lot of fear.
I stubbornly hold on to my marriage. Why?
"I've looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take and still somehow,
It's love's illusions I recall.
I really don't know love at all."
-Joanie Mitchell
Poem #1
In the morning, I pour my hope for the day
Into a cold cup of fear.
I add cream to mask the bitterness
Until clouds pillow up in my cup changing it
Into a softer, more tolerable brew.
I commune with it for a minute or two,
Until I leave it on a shelf or bureau
And forget about it...
Only to return in the evening to discover it,
Waiting with memories dried to the rim
Where my lips had been.
A mocha star of sapphire winks up at me,
So I hesitate before
I pour my cold, forgotten hope down the drain
And scrub at the ring that doesn't want
To give up it's position stuck orbiting
Halfway to the top.
Into a cold cup of fear.
I add cream to mask the bitterness
Until clouds pillow up in my cup changing it
Into a softer, more tolerable brew.
I commune with it for a minute or two,
Until I leave it on a shelf or bureau
And forget about it...
Only to return in the evening to discover it,
Waiting with memories dried to the rim
Where my lips had been.
A mocha star of sapphire winks up at me,
So I hesitate before
I pour my cold, forgotten hope down the drain
And scrub at the ring that doesn't want
To give up it's position stuck orbiting
Halfway to the top.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Opening scene of my screenplay
SCENE 1: EXT RESORT SKI TOWN. MAIN STREET.
TEXT ON SCREEN READS: CHRISTMAS 2011
Early afternoon on a crisp, clear, winter day. Fresh snow lines the picturesque streets filled with fancy SUVs and luxury sedans carrying skis and snowboards on roof racks. Camera pans the scene and lands on an older model Jeep Wagoneer, with fake wood panels on the side, pulling into a gas station.
On closer look, this car really stands out. License plate rim reads “Mammoth Local.” The back window and well-bumped bumper are covered in ski/snowboard company stickers. No skis on top, but car is packed with boxes, suitcases, toys, etc. Obviously, this car is leaving town.
Driver's side door flies open and we see GRACE, wearing an old parka, ripped sweatpants, hair disheveled. The car door slams into a post in front of the gas pump.
GRACE
(Loudly)
God damn it.
We hear giggling girls, Haven and Finder, from the back seat.
GRACE (CONT’D)
(Sotto)
Remember girls, you can only say that when you're driving.
She gets back in the car, turns it back on, and inches it forward. Opens the door, only to hit the post again, even harder this time.
GRACE (CONT’D)
(Even louder this time)
God damn it.
Girls giggle even louder.
HAVEN & FINDER (O.C.)
God damn it God damn it God damn it!
Gaggles of giggles erupt.
INT WAGONEER, back seat.
Giggling girls Haven and Finder are surrounded by duffles and tote bags, as well as a variety of books and games to keep them occupied on their forthcoming road trip.
Eight-year old Finder wears a quirky knit cap, faux fur vest and skinny jeans. She is happy, adorable, effervescent, and precocious. Her piercing, mischievous eyes are full of life. Haven, just 13, is fresh-faced and beautiful. Her skin has that Noxema-clean glow. (Though she is a real beauty, there is a sadness deep in her eyes.)
Grace moves the car forward again and finally manages to get out of the car. She grabs the gas nozzle only to find it won't reach the gas tank.
GRACE
(Under breath... cold air steams)
Fuck.
We start to see how frazzled Grace is. She suddenly notices the well-dressed, rich tourists giving her dirty looks. She smiles apologetically. She hurriedly moves car back again, as the girls bicker over a DS player.
Grace gets out of car and swipes an ATM card...declined. Swipes credit card, same. Grace's eyes dilate and slightly moisten and hands gently shake. Close up on pump screen reads:
“SEE CASHIER INSIDE”
GRACE (CONT'D)
Fuck me hard.
Grace glares at nearby tourists, then opens the back door of the Wagoneer and sticks her head in.
GRACE (CONT'D)
I'll be right back.
FINDER
Can I come?
GRACE
No.
FINDER
Why not?
GRACE
Stay here!
FINDER
(Whines)
Pulleeezzeee...
GRACE
NO!
FINDER
(Super whiny)
Pretty pulleeeezze?
Whimpers and mocks a damsel in distress, eye-lid-flapping pout.
GRACE
(Resignedly sighs)
Alright.
HAVEN
Can I go?
GRACE
No! (hesitates) Oh, alright!
HAVEN & FINDER
(in unison)
Yay!
Girls triumphantly high-five and giggle....another battle over mom easily won.
Girls exit car head into gas station with Grace. Obviously a long-time local, many locals say hello and Grace puts on her well-worn smiling mask easily, one that she has worn many times in this small town of gossips. They enter gas station. Door jingles as it opens.
SCENE 2: INT GAS STATION.
Grace, Finder, and Haven enter and approach the clerk, MANNY, who is behind the counter. Haven tugs on Grace’s arm.
HAVEN
Just a little snack, Mom?
GRACE
(Whispers to girls while smiling through clenched teeth)
No. We don’t have money for snacks, honey.
Grace smiles at Manny.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Oh, alright. (Hesitates) Nothing with sugar.
Girls run straight for the candy. They start up a serious conversation about which candy to get.
GRACE (CONT'D)
(to Manny)
So, uh, how's Zach? He was always one of my favorite students.
MANNY
Great, great. You know he’s down at Santa Barbara City College -- majoring in English. Following your lead, I suppose. He always asks about you -- said you were the best teacher at Mammoth High.
Manny shifts from familiarity to slightly uncomfortable.
MANNY (CONT'D)
I'm really sorry, Grace. Sorry you lost your job. Big loss for the school.
Grace, equally uncomfortable, forces a huge, plastic smile.
GRACE
You know, fucking budget cuts. (she stops herself, embarrassed) -- Sorry, I never cuss. Sorry. Besides, we kinda need a fresh start. (smiles) Anyway, can I get $60 on number five?
Grace leans towards door to check the actual pump number.
GRACE (CONT’D)
I mean four. Pump four.
She opens her wallet. $36. Beat. Stares into the wallet.
GRACE (CONT'D)
(Still staring into her wallet)
Uh, Haven honey? Hey, you know that birthday money Grandma sent you? I think it was a hundred?
HAVEN
(still by the candy aisle)
Yeah.
GRACE
Umm, go get it for me. I'll pay you back.
Camera captures Haven, juggling her candy selection.
HAVEN
Mom, you already owe me a hundred.
GRACE
Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll pay you back.
(softening her voice)
Please, honey.
Haven gets it. Starts to head out to the car as she's been asked.
HAVEN
Okay, mom. I'll get it.
Haven exits as Grace smiles back at Manny, trying to hide her shame.
TEXT ON SCREEN READS: CHRISTMAS 2011
Early afternoon on a crisp, clear, winter day. Fresh snow lines the picturesque streets filled with fancy SUVs and luxury sedans carrying skis and snowboards on roof racks. Camera pans the scene and lands on an older model Jeep Wagoneer, with fake wood panels on the side, pulling into a gas station.
On closer look, this car really stands out. License plate rim reads “Mammoth Local.” The back window and well-bumped bumper are covered in ski/snowboard company stickers. No skis on top, but car is packed with boxes, suitcases, toys, etc. Obviously, this car is leaving town.
Driver's side door flies open and we see GRACE, wearing an old parka, ripped sweatpants, hair disheveled. The car door slams into a post in front of the gas pump.
GRACE
(Loudly)
God damn it.
We hear giggling girls, Haven and Finder, from the back seat.
GRACE (CONT’D)
(Sotto)
Remember girls, you can only say that when you're driving.
She gets back in the car, turns it back on, and inches it forward. Opens the door, only to hit the post again, even harder this time.
GRACE (CONT’D)
(Even louder this time)
God damn it.
Girls giggle even louder.
HAVEN & FINDER (O.C.)
God damn it God damn it God damn it!
Gaggles of giggles erupt.
INT WAGONEER, back seat.
Giggling girls Haven and Finder are surrounded by duffles and tote bags, as well as a variety of books and games to keep them occupied on their forthcoming road trip.
Eight-year old Finder wears a quirky knit cap, faux fur vest and skinny jeans. She is happy, adorable, effervescent, and precocious. Her piercing, mischievous eyes are full of life. Haven, just 13, is fresh-faced and beautiful. Her skin has that Noxema-clean glow. (Though she is a real beauty, there is a sadness deep in her eyes.)
Grace moves the car forward again and finally manages to get out of the car. She grabs the gas nozzle only to find it won't reach the gas tank.
GRACE
(Under breath... cold air steams)
Fuck.
We start to see how frazzled Grace is. She suddenly notices the well-dressed, rich tourists giving her dirty looks. She smiles apologetically. She hurriedly moves car back again, as the girls bicker over a DS player.
Grace gets out of car and swipes an ATM card...declined. Swipes credit card, same. Grace's eyes dilate and slightly moisten and hands gently shake. Close up on pump screen reads:
“SEE CASHIER INSIDE”
GRACE (CONT'D)
Fuck me hard.
Grace glares at nearby tourists, then opens the back door of the Wagoneer and sticks her head in.
GRACE (CONT'D)
I'll be right back.
FINDER
Can I come?
GRACE
No.
FINDER
Why not?
GRACE
Stay here!
FINDER
(Whines)
Pulleeezzeee...
GRACE
NO!
FINDER
(Super whiny)
Pretty pulleeeezze?
Whimpers and mocks a damsel in distress, eye-lid-flapping pout.
GRACE
(Resignedly sighs)
Alright.
HAVEN
Can I go?
GRACE
No! (hesitates) Oh, alright!
HAVEN & FINDER
(in unison)
Yay!
Girls triumphantly high-five and giggle....another battle over mom easily won.
Girls exit car head into gas station with Grace. Obviously a long-time local, many locals say hello and Grace puts on her well-worn smiling mask easily, one that she has worn many times in this small town of gossips. They enter gas station. Door jingles as it opens.
SCENE 2: INT GAS STATION.
Grace, Finder, and Haven enter and approach the clerk, MANNY, who is behind the counter. Haven tugs on Grace’s arm.
HAVEN
Just a little snack, Mom?
GRACE
(Whispers to girls while smiling through clenched teeth)
No. We don’t have money for snacks, honey.
Grace smiles at Manny.
GRACE (CONT'D)
Oh, alright. (Hesitates) Nothing with sugar.
Girls run straight for the candy. They start up a serious conversation about which candy to get.
GRACE (CONT'D)
(to Manny)
So, uh, how's Zach? He was always one of my favorite students.
MANNY
Great, great. You know he’s down at Santa Barbara City College -- majoring in English. Following your lead, I suppose. He always asks about you -- said you were the best teacher at Mammoth High.
Manny shifts from familiarity to slightly uncomfortable.
MANNY (CONT'D)
I'm really sorry, Grace. Sorry you lost your job. Big loss for the school.
Grace, equally uncomfortable, forces a huge, plastic smile.
GRACE
You know, fucking budget cuts. (she stops herself, embarrassed) -- Sorry, I never cuss. Sorry. Besides, we kinda need a fresh start. (smiles) Anyway, can I get $60 on number five?
Grace leans towards door to check the actual pump number.
GRACE (CONT’D)
I mean four. Pump four.
She opens her wallet. $36. Beat. Stares into the wallet.
GRACE (CONT'D)
(Still staring into her wallet)
Uh, Haven honey? Hey, you know that birthday money Grandma sent you? I think it was a hundred?
HAVEN
(still by the candy aisle)
Yeah.
GRACE
Umm, go get it for me. I'll pay you back.
Camera captures Haven, juggling her candy selection.
HAVEN
Mom, you already owe me a hundred.
GRACE
Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll pay you back.
(softening her voice)
Please, honey.
Haven gets it. Starts to head out to the car as she's been asked.
HAVEN
Okay, mom. I'll get it.
Haven exits as Grace smiles back at Manny, trying to hide her shame.
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