ten truths for today.

1. I grew up on a farm, and, when asked, that's always the first thing I'll tell anyone. 

2. Though I majored in Creative Writing in college, and graduated, I haven't written a thing since college, or done anything with my degree.

3. Speaking of, I work part-time at a restaurant in Times Square. This comes after an unsuccessful stint with AmeriCorps *NCCC (living in Iowa), and a 6 month cross country road trip with an ex lover. 

4. I live in New York City and dream of a house with a backyard with a goat, and driving a pickup.

5. I have a little fat bunnie and a little fat pit bull. Neither were fat when I got them, but they are happy in their snacking, and I've inherited the belief that snacks are better tasting hugs. 

6. I enjoyed showers much more when I was single. I don't know why.

7. It is November, and I am just now working on this year's resolutions.

8. Doing this is one of them. 

9. I believe in the people's right to smoke marijuana. To contradict this, I don't believe in abortion as a form of birth control, and I do wish cigarettes were banned (as they [at $12/pack in NYC] are still more affordable than cold medicine).

9. If I'd never smoked pot, I might be a doctor right now. If not that, I'd at least be at some sort of job. 

10. In writing this, I have disproved #2.

note 6

i could end you with a sentence,
and i'd do it in a minute

note 5

october 6th.
my ex girlfriend was a libra, too.
i'm air, she'd say- and
you're water... don't you understand?

i need to fly.

she said,
and water always finds its level.

note 1

for breakfast today i had leftover pizza and coffee

upstairs, my 50 year old cousin paul is belting alanis's "ironic".

i prefer stephanie to steph. the only people who call me steph are in my family, and i don't think they even know that i don't like it. 

there are a few people in the world with whom i am Utterly fascinated.

i'm a troublemaker.

i am vegetarian.

i have both appreciation and love for proper word usage, punctuation and grammar. my speech has long been inspired by anne from anne of green gables. she evoked my linguistic eccentricities.

that being said, i can talk my way into or out of just about anything.

my sister is the only person in the world who gets away with calling me "stephy". 

one of my favorite phrases is: "look what the cat dragged in". i imagine it being said at perfect moments in history. like when the prodigal son returned... or perhaps when mary was visited by a risen jesus: "well, well, well... look what the cat dragged in!"

i'm writing this over the course of three weeks.

i fall in love. often, unapologetically, and without restraint.

i do most things unapologetically and without restraint.  but, 

i've been told i apologize too much.

i tell stories. this has much to do with two dreams i have: being a stand-up comedian and writing scripts.

not that you wanted to call me this, but i don't like being called "babe".

i don't know the first thing about getting a job or being independent.

i'd love to be a marketing exec but i don't look good in suits.

growing up, my favorite book was matilda... to some degree it still is, and it has played a significant role in my life.

being bruised freaks me out.

i think when i was young i watched tv for the "piped-in" laughter. the "piped-in" laughter is also why my mother always made me turn the television off. [shows with piped-in laughter are "disgusting and trashy"... but i just liked the sound of people laughing.]

i still very much enjoy the sound of people laughing.

i talk to Everything.

in fact, i'm all talk.

for a long time the sunday night line-up in my house was 5 o'clock mass, baywatch, murder she wrote and touched by an angel. i loved every second of it.

i hate cold pizza. hate.

when you're not there, i'm singing.

my new best friend

is also the smartest person i know.

me: kiki, why are you looking in the mirror?

her: because i like myself.

her: where are we?

me: i have to get gas.

her: gassss?

me: i have to put gas in the car so it'll run... like i have to put milk in you so you run!

her: you're silly.

her: do rocks eat?

me: no, they're not alive.

her: haha, silly me.

me: it's ok. if you were a rock, what do you think you'd want to eat?

her: sandwiches.

her: everybody, i have great news.

me: what is it?

her: when i grow up i am going to be a cheerleader.

her mom: kiki, what would you like to listen to... yoyo ma? mozart? piano?

her: womanizer.

my life-

[So Good]

right now.

2009 to-do list

- make paper

- get d.c fellows teaching job

- p-town for memorial day weekend

- make p-town doc with sheena

- get to bonnaroo

- write scripts

- sell a script

- visit kalamazoo

- visit seattle

- plan spain summer of  '10.

there's more.

while you were sleeping [at the wheel]

a,

the town of rye, ny takes things very seriously. idling in your car is illegal, and everything is recycled. you can't get out of the car in the loop in front of the school, nor can one open the trunk. every house is equipped with an evacuation box, and a red bucket that's for your clothing when there is radioactivity (too bad you can't fit your whole self in there, i say. she laughs but i know she isn't listening.) only one parent per household works in the city, just in case. everyone has at least one hybrid car, and nannies are a step up from a designer bag (stephanie has her bachelor's and is helping me before she gets her masters [What??]. oh, that's nice... well, lexi is in her last year of med school and speaks french!) dishwashers are run after 7pm (the electricity rates go down!) and the house is kept 2 degrees cooler when the children are at school.

at catholic youth basketball, amidst a staggered audience of ashed wives whose husbands are still at work, i overhear that "mine's gone for 6 weeks. yah... to see her family. well she hasn't been home in 5 years, so. and she's married, so you know, see her husband. i'm ok, though."

i wonder who i will be when i'm done here.

i'm very sensitive, and i so appreciate kindness. i really do. i suppose kindness is love in its simplest form, to some degree. these children do not say please or thank you, and they tell me what they want at all times. their jackets, bags, hats, shoes, all strewn about-- and it takes as much energy to ask them to do it themselves over and over as to just do it myself. but i ask them anyway, because otherwise i'm not doing any good. i'm just doing.

the first mountain i must conquer is their insatiable dishonesty. i Hate that.

i miss my nephews. my sister has grown the most beautiful and magnificent tiny men. slightly stepford, actually, and such a stark contrast to this madness.

i'm sorry. i'll stop about all of that. although, as one final thought... they broke my heart a little bit today. my first attempt at making lasagna... and while it came out absolutely delicious and amazing, they hated it because it had spinach and zuchinni in it. the mother sat and allowed them to tear it and me apart. then she asked me to heat up frozen sausage patties for them. i wanted to vomit on her.

all they want is frozen meat products.
yet she insists everything be "organic". bullshit.

there was a bright side to today. i made it to manhattanville and met with my professor, jonathon tropper, who is certain my script will sell. he has two producers and his agent to hand it to. he got me excited enough that i wrote the entire story, and will have the script done by end of week. he wants it asap so he can pass it on. i am thrilled not only because of what he said, but because he lit a fire! i was into it today, like i haven't been in so long! it felt great. it felt... natural. so right.

strange, though, walking the halls of a tiny place i called home for 4 years, searching for a familiar face and not finding one. i'd wanted so badly to sit in on writing classes, but duty called and there were frozen chicken nuggets to make.

have you ever investigated meditation? there is something in you that wants to be quelled, i'm sure of it. your body and mind want peace.

you are beautiful when you smile, a... but i wonder what you'll look like when you're truly happy. i suppose i'd have to shield my eyes for fear that nothing would ever equate.

sorry for droning on and on.




i so look forward to seeing you.
-s

and suddenly, i'm a mother of three.

highlights of my first day nannying:

(K= Kiki, 3. J= J.P, 5. G= Grant, 10. S= Suzie, the mother)

* "you can pickle a cucumber but you can't cucumber a pickle." -Me.

* having the 3 year old who it's "always a struggle" to dress, dress herself. will

ingly.

* "you're a really good cook. why don't you become a cook? you could move to new york and open a restaurant and make billions of dollars." -G

* finishing the day with an orange and a cup of tea.

* the amazing electric hybrid car i get to drive.

* "what is that?"

   "it's my blog."

   "so that people like you?"

   "no! just because people want to read about what happens in my life." 

   "so they want to marry you?" -G

   "no!" -Me

* "have you ever gone on one of those perfect match sites?" -G

   "no! (lie) have you?" -Me

* the big pink heart in my room filled with chocolates to "welcome" me.

* "you're nice." -G

* eating the best hummus i've ever had with baby carrots all day.

* "you're huge!" -K

* "we only have salad"

   "can i have gum?"

   "salad!"

   "chicken parm?"

   "salad!"

   "ice cream?" -Me

   "ok, ice cream salad." -K

* "this is the best mac and cheese i've ever had in my life." -K

* this is my shower head:

* "Yes, ma'am." -J

* "what does that say?" -K

* "oh, stephanie is interested in marketing, i bet she could do it!" -S "oh? well how much do you charge?" -Her Friend

* "i'm not being very nice to you." -K

* "ballet des enfants 'fairytale ballet' "

* being quizzed about presidents by a boy covered only in bubbles. few bubbles.

* i have a secret to tell you... please come here?

she gives me her ear

i had a really good time playing with you today-

thanks so much for playing with me all day, i tell her.

i have a secret for you, too! she says.

i really love you,

and i really love your hat!

...and it really is.

the night turned day was rough to rougher. surprising my brother, the last to know i'm home, and then having him not say a word to me until this morning.

so, what's the plan? 

he stood in the door way to the attic room i'd slept in. i don't know yet, courtney, i said-- picking up my things, but as soon as i do, i'll let you know.

well, are you gonna get a job?

yup.

doing what?

i don't know.

i walked downstairs, and he up, to his office. i didn't see him again.

this theme is recurring. it often feels i'm a man who's been thrown a fish so many times, and never been taught what a rod was. i'm hungry, i'm hungry i beg

yet they're pockets are long emptied of fish,

and no one has time or want to bait a hook with me. and they blame me

for my hunger, they blame me

for not knowing how, on my own.

a tired metaphor.

i left with my mother. insisted upon leaving. got in the car and moved her purse to the floor. she got in

excuse me! she said, picking up her purse and setting it between us, 

you can always sit in the backseat if my purse is in your way.

trust me, i said. i know.

and so sat and heaved the quote of the day (displaced to the back of the bus for a purse) until lunch, after i'd spent hours on a project idea and allowed my mind its reeling...

i'm talking too much, and too loud, probably, about the economic crisis and other things, to my mom at a restaurant. the people behind her get up to leave, and the woman stops at our table and says

"excuse me, i'm sorry... it's just, you're a very smart person. i've been listening to what you've been saying-- and you've really got some good things to say. you're going places, i know it!"

i: completely taken aback and surprised

i say i'm sorry i was talking so loud! and she says no, no, i enjoyed it. my mother says:

she needed that, with a smile. and the woman walks away.

wow, i say to carol- eyebrows still raised- my life is So Weird!

i wish i had softer hair.

i cried in the shower, sitting on the floor.

first time since i got here. first time

since i left.

i wish i could dismiss all feelings of regret or thoughts turned second. it's been one week, now... and i've eight less close friends and one less job. one weekend and everyday to fill with this screen. i can't drown out the din of my cousin's t.v upstairs. don't want to cover it with other noise. music/noise. all of it, noise. 

i don't know why he has it so loud, or why the sound comes down the stairs more often than he does. 

 i'm forced to imagine my other life, and the me i unplugged... what i'd be doing right now. who i'd be with. 

why did i go? why did i go? i don't remember.

i have to keep reminding myself that i really wasn't happy.

my problem, always, it seems.

never remembering things quite as they really were.

maybe that's why i devote so much of myself to the past. 

why i seem to live there.

it's deluded. am i?

[she said 

if you had let yourself fall in love with me...]

my dreams are born, and die before they cry.

i can't do this right now. i have wine to drink, again, and dreams to birth and watch turn blue

waiting

waiting

for me to slap them into being.

but i won't.

for now,

i'll crawl back into the shower

and wait til it dries//

make it wet again.