Thursday, November 26, 2009

Thanksgiving with Mike

Christmas Music- check
hair dye- check
nicked ginger from chopping parsley for stuffing-check
coffee with rice milk and sugar-check
a run through prospect park- check
a misunderstanding about "leave me some bacon"- check
gearing up for his parents house- check
good to be here-check

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

mi amiga

Hoy busque a los ninos de mi amiga, vio.
despues del cenamos y los ninos fueron a dormir
vio vino a casa y tuvimos una clase de espanol
pero en nuestras clases, hablamos sobre muchas cosas
ella es buen maestra y un buen amiga
Se que hablo demasiado en ingles
Tratare mucha mejor hablar en espanol
me gusta leer y oir la langue espanol pero tengo miedo hablar a veces
quiero aprender mucho mas, pero tambien me gusta hablar con vio en ingles.
gracias por mi maestra y su ayudar con mi vida!

Sunday, November 15, 2009

my new desk

last week Mike bought be an antique writing desk he found on craigslist.
its from the 1940s and is beatuiful. It is a drop down desk with claws for feet and a dark cherry stain.
last night i finally sat down and wrote at it and two hours flew by and i didn't even notice.
i love my new desk.
thank you!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

red wine

"sometimes its easier to talk to someone you don't really know."
"yeah...i really don't tell people about this," i laugh, "god, i feel so exposed."
"maybe its because i had a couple glasses of wine. or maybe it was because we just we're on that topic."
"more women should talk about it."
"I guess i don't tell people because i don't want pity."
"you seem like that. you don't want anyone to feel sorry for you."
"yeah, you know, i'm over it."
the car merges onto a dangerous section of the road.
"This road is so dangerous. if you ever take it, be careful. there's not a lot of space here," she warns me.
we pass by a three car collision. we both gasp.
"its okay," i tell her. everyone is out of the car."
we sit in silence for two long seconds before she senses my discomfort.
"is that why you left L.A.?" she asks me and suddenly I am struck with another memory of that night.
"you that I think of it, there was this drive that happened that night that i guess is what i think of when i think of L.A. L.A. is very...lonely. And that night after I realized what was happening and ran out of that house i got in my car. it was four or five in the morning and i just started driving around the valley looking for my friends."
where had they gone? why had they left me in that house?
"i drove past other friends' houses. i drove past the 24 hour diner. i drove past the underage drinking bar and i couldn't find anyone. not one person."
it was true. i don't remember even seeing a stranger that night. so i went home and told my dad what had happened to me. and that night i decided to let everyone go as they had done me.
"you know my 10 year high school graduation was two weekends ago and it was very weird. everyone kept facebooking me asking me if i was going to go and even now i just have nothing to say to any of them."
her car gets to my corner.
"i'm really sorry that happened to you," she tells me without sounding too sad because she knows that is the last thing i want.
"i'm not. in a weird way i'm grateful because he had done it twice before and no one ever did anything. i think it had to happen to me because i was the only one who was going to do anything about it. even if i was the one who lost more in the end."
i thank her and awkwardly offer her gas money and she waves it off like the strange offering it is. i take a few steps and look up at my apartment building and see the living room light on.
the night is cool and it reminds me of L.A.

Friday, November 6, 2009

to matter

"i just want my life to matter."
"it does matter!"
"no, but i want it to mean something."
"But it does mean something."
i ponder his responses. perhaps he is right.
"i mean, i'm probably not going to find a cure for cancer but i hope to do something with my life that helps at least one other person. i mean isn't that the point, right?"
"but you do do that and you have done that...and so have i."
sometimes i lose sight, sometimes i judge.
i am reminded of the conversation i had with a work colleague.
"i'm not about advancement," she told me. "i'm fine being someone's assistant and not having a lot responsibility. and one day i will be a mom and will want to be able to spend time with my kids. i'm just not very ambitious."
i had told her that sometimes ambition can be blinding.
and after my conversation with him i wonder if i am blinded right now?
on the college application's statement of purpose they ask me to tell them about myself.
i write that i am curios, brave and too responsible.
am i also too serious?
i also write theat in the same breath i can be extremely confident coupled with crippling self-doubt.
am i also so blinded but what i want that i can't see what i have?
i will not be handing this piece of paper in.
but i will try to r-e-l-a-x a little more.
i tell myself...

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


"i know that i have a problem with...i know i'm a control freak. i first realized that on DEAR AMERICA."
and that was where i also realized how extremely sensitive i am
something i hate to admit and in fact never do.
i see at as weakness and when i start to feel it, i retreat, i push back, i break away
i beat you to the punch.
i tell her that i have been angry, sad, flying off the handle at the slightest comment
and it's going on months now
i tell her that i'm not sure but i think i got hurt. i think i got hurt by my father all over again.
i can't kick this feeling.
we head to the theatre and right before we head inside she brings up our relationship.
had i been upset with her?
i start to sweat. i feel a lump in my throat.
she is much better at this than i and when we sit down and talk she lets herself go a little bit and i try my best.
but sometimes i feel like if i let it come out its all going to come out and i won't know how to end or begin
on the way home i try to think of my personal statement. the same personal statemnet requirements i have been looking at and putting off for a year.
"Write a story about yourself. why you write."
I have always hated this question because the answer is always cliche- "because i have to."
but as i sat on the subway i wrote the word "myself" and wrote a few adjectives i felt describe me write now. then i wrote "why i write" and a few words that came to me under that. and the two columns seemed to almost answer each other.

brave scared

to understand
to find
to let go
to heal
to find my place in the world and who i will be in it
my identity

As far as why i want to write a memoir about my family -another requirement-
i write-"Patterns and the need to break them."

my father once told me to make my decisions with courage and i can't help but think that this grad school pursuit is a decision i am making because i am scared. because i am scared that i have not written a play or a screenplay or a book. i'm scared that i don't really have what it takes-that discipline element, that confidence element- i'm scared that i'm getting older and still have no clear path ahead. and grad school makes sense because at least it gives you a path for two years. but it is november and i still have not found people to do letters of recommendation and the one person i want to ask i am afraid to ask because she knows and i know that i might not be making the right decision. i would say that i wish i could have more time but its not time i need. its my courage.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Trick or treat?

"Man...this is the one night of the year where ladies unleash."
"And they unleash," I say with a wide-eyed all knowing smirk.
He laughs, "That ain't no costume, man."
He glances towards the 20th playboy bunny of the night as she drunkenly girates her hips on the corner. She is with no one but I assume she is putting on a show for the line of festive party-goers across the street.
there was a time where i wanted to be sexy on Halloween because it was the one night i felt i could fully exploit all my feminity without being judged. namely without being judged by myself.
there was a certain excitement in seeing your full potential and then going overboard just to see how far you could push it.
Or perhaps it was the one night where I could say, unabashedly, "Look at me."
My days as a sexy Halloween costume "wearer" were short-lived once I realized I didn't like the type of attention it attracted.
While it is nice to be called "hot," It is never nice to be treated like an object, at least not for me.
But to all those sexy Halloween costume wearers, i truly hope they all had a night where they could really unleash and satisfy whatever need that is that stays tightly tucked away for the other 364 days a year.