The reason why making films could be easy is simply because we are watching one everyday–our lives. Say that you wish to show that a character has a crush on another character but the desire is secret. Simply shoot a frame of a couple lying together on the grass and then cut to the two platonic friends enjoying lunch. See? Without words a picture expresses a thousand of them. Now let’s suppose that you yourself in real life harbor a crush and sure enough in real life you sit down to enjoy a picnic on the lawn and there is the hetero couple from the movie but now actually existing in real life–if you know what I mean. So, after a while your friend, the other film character, decides it’s time for coffee. Off you stroll together to the caffeine bar, she buys her cup of Joe, and the two of you find a different location to sit. Sure enough a few feet away on the lawn a woman, a total stranger, lies down on the grass to enjoy the sun and a stretch. Shortly after another woman joins her and they stretch together parallel and several feet apart. What you hear, though, as you converse platonically with your crush, is increasing soft laughter from the sun stretchers. You turn to view them and they are now close enough to kiss. Shooting this as a film scene would simply require cutting back and forth between the two “couples.” Perhaps this happened to me today in real life. Or perhaps it was all just a movie.
Life Is Just A Movie Anyway
September 30, 2009
Leave a Comment » | 
Life | Tagged: characters, crush, filmmaking, real life | 
Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
The Promise to Parent
September 28, 2009Today I commit to wishing my dream true that I become a mother by October 1, 2010. Just stating the one year goal gives it lift and now I can let go by giving focus to the dream. Somehow, someway I will become a mother within a year. Realistic? Yes. My condo is for sale and in contract, meaning that if all goes as planned I will close escrow by October 30, 2009. That chunk of change will set me free for good. My financial mishaps are over. The fraudulent surrogacy set me back $20,000, but even so my books are balanced and current right now. The new flow of income will clear most all my debt–mostly the emotional debt of yet another failed parenting attempt. Life happens. I own up to my previous behavior and pray for change.
A friend of mine reminded me the other day that a relationship–a healthy one, that is–usually involves speaking and listening. So, if you adopt a spiritual relationship then prayers are a way to speak to an energy bigger than yourself. And in meditation we listen for the answers. Well, perhaps not concrete answers as in how to solve y=mx+b, but, surely, at least intuition. That’s my hope this time around. Simply a quiet listening to the parenting process. My frenzied behavior during the last experience probably accounted for my blindness; I simply refused to see the obvious–the extent of Elimisha Fussell’s intentional scam. I am stronger now, so not only will I listen and speak softly this time around, but I will return to the scene of the original scene of Ms. Fussell’s crime and seek justice. Have my word on that one.
That is the gift of spending time with children–moments that help the two or three or four of you to connect. This is a presence–a joyful still feeling that the moment is all. I remember the time I sat on the sidewalk in Sausalito with the ocean just a few feet away. A man had perched himself on the concrete bench after arranging rocks to stand five feet high–one wobbly rock simply stacked on another. What a fine art. The 4-year-old, who I had helped a friend welcome into this world the morning she was born at 1:52 a.m. and helped raise her for several years, pulled my hand to go, already judging the activity as nerdy. Instead I plopped down on the sidewalk and waved her over. (Perhaps I already told this story on the blog here, but as I inaugurate another attempt to become a mother, the anecdote seems so fitting.) She sat in my lap and I asked the man if he could teach her. This little girl listens well enough and yet has a mighty stubborn streak; I wasn’t sure what would happen. He looked at me to measure if I really meant it. I did. I kneeled completely on my knees as did the stone builder on the other side of a random pile of rocks that he had gathered quickly. The little girl took the space to the left of me on her knees as well.
“Gently place a flatter rock on the bottom,” he instructed her.
She looked into the pile and chose a fine wide rock and placed it on the sidewalk. Then he took a more gangly shaped but still small rock.
“Take both hands on each side of the rock and slowly rock it back and forth over the first rock waiting for a fit,” he said, showing the little girl.
She watched intently. “Now it’s your turn,” he said. I rushed in with my interfering limbs, and I kid you not, the pre-schooler calmly waved me off–guarding her quiet, serene, and complete concentration.
She picked up a rock and imitated his gesture to the tee. The man beamed. “Try another,” he said, challenging her. She had plenty success with the following rocks; by now a small crowd stopped to watch her since all three of us were on our knees hovering over her creation. Up and up she built. As the hyper adult I wanted to shout, “Way to go.” I whispered instead. But I couldn’t control my rapid fire high five to the little girl like we always did. Instead, she kept the stillness around us by gently tapping her hand against mine–a Zen high-five. A few more rocks and the statue was probably three feet high by now. Just the last tippy-tippy rock brought half of the art work to earth. Still, the little girl reluctantly and slowly stepped away from the project. She insisted we buy a postcard the man had made of his own statues.
When this child returned to her bio-mom, she whipped out the postcard and stood there–very still and smiling. What joy those small moments bring. Perhaps parenting reunites the adult with a child-like joyful wonder while engaging a child to discover the world in complex ways. Parent and child are in a reciprocal discovery relationship, perhaps, constantly exploring the world to learn more about themselves as individuals and their relationship together. One that I imagine, at least from this parent’s naive perspective, is ongoing.
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: art, debt, discovery, Parent, pray, reciprocal, rocks, spiritual, still | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
What Is a Relationship?
September 24, 2009I am still so damn curious what goes into a healthy relationship? Tonight a woman who I respect because of her vibrant 13 years in sobriety tells me that the three month relationship she had is over. Huh? They looked so together: the stares, the public kisses, the strong energy. They bought tickets for a trip to Kauai. And now it’s done she says once they quickly spurted out a few harsh sentences to each other. How does that work? Their surface seemed so real. Of course, I recall all the surfaces of my previous relationships and how real those felt at the time from the inside.
How many couples I have observed and wondered about. Those who stay together because to leave would be too lonely. Staying together to simply not be alone seems too isolating while glued to another person. Or those couples who do flow well, but have lost the daily spark. Other couples express unspoken fears by cheating. How about the pair who hardly know each other but have the bling-bling of material connection to cement a bond? Cars, a house, clothes, careers, and perhaps a baby or two–are these enough to truly stay fulfilled? Perhaps time just creates that settling day-to-day bond. Sure, the relationship is not great, but how comfortable to simply see her every day.
I have no idea any more and that feels wonderful. I won’t settle because my life feels too vibrant right now. Finding a woman who can join me in the daily joy would be amazing. Years ago I witnessed a couple who at 50-years-old finally found each other. They were like teenagers. Maybe that’s my ideal–less the age when the relationship happened and more on the texture of the connection. In sobriety we are given the chance to create a sexual ideal. Before I probably would have chosen Brad Pitt for myself. Yes, I am a woman, yet my ideal self gravitates towards male movie figures. Today my ideal is Tom Hanks. On the surface, his persona seems so benign– no there-there. But that’s the point. Through understatement he exudes presence. And he is funny.
Humor is my number one attraction factor. Well, ok, and rapid fire intelligence, too. As I age, my brain seems to sharpen rather than dull. Go figure and who knew? So, I guess my expectation for a relationship would be lots of laughter. And easy commitment. Now that I can finally recognize how well I run away from the obvious chance right in front of me, I feel ready. That is, the less I look, the more I find. Oooops, that’s sounding vague, so what I really mean is that I will stop looking and so then I will probably find her. The woman of my dreams. Problem is I have no idea what she looks like. And that’s the point I suppose. Loaded with no expectations, I stay open to every new experience. Which makes me laugh at the random moment of her appearing and at myself. See? Humor wins every time. Funny stuff, actually, not taking yourself too serious in a healthy self-deprecating way. Here goes nothing.
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: Brad Pitt, humor, intelligence, sexual ideal, sobriety, Tom Hanks | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
Lucky in Life
September 22, 2009True my work as a writing teacher offers me wonderful work. But right now I’m frustrated for more free creative time. Trying to finish projects for the film classes is a struggle. I am in one of those schedules where I seldom feel current–as if I’m swimming against one. My days actually flow well; one event leads smoothly to the next. It is just that I have too many scheduled. Seems ungrateful to even complain after considering how lucky in life I am. And yet even the priviledge whine from time to time. It’s my turn. If only I had a few days completely free. Wait. Starting next Monday I will have that chunk. How I look forward to that. A good night’s sleep might lower the volume on my complaining button. Waking up fresh just might create more of that free time I am craving.
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: complaining, free time, grateful, scheduling | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
Football Is the Great Equalizer
September 21, 2009Probably one of the best ways to offer an olive branch to those you have lied to is to engage in an activity that you don’t like. A little like Mikey from the 70s cereal commercials: “Try it Mike, you might like it. Hey, Mikey likes it!” What a grin on that eight-year-old’s freckled face and hay blonde hair. Growing up I spent countless hours in front of the TV watching the screen and cheering, but wondering if I really liked the activity or just appreciated some time sitting next to family. As an adult I quickly discovered my interest sprang from the latter motivation. And because the more things change, the more they stay the same, today was like the good old days–showing up simply to be close to family. I will say, though, that I had a super good time. Hey, Mikey likes it!
The sun blazed down on us and my sunburn stings right now. Mom brought snacks for a low-key tailgating party. I sipped Diet-Coke and smoked Marlboro Mediums. Yes, we revert to bad habits when around the good-ol DNA family. OK, I’ll convert that into an “I-statement.” I tend to spazz out some around my biology family. Although today we gelled well enough. Sobriety helps me activate a calm gene that absolutely does not come to me naturally or biologically. My DNA programs me to activate drama, drama, and more drama.
Like that lie I wrote about in the previous post. Sure, a few years later I can reflect on why I lied, but right now cleaning up the wreckage from not accepting that my DNA leans towards the hyper and narcissistic will take some time. That’s what addiction does–holds you hostage to the toddler stage, those good old days when the entire world revolves around you. In sobriety we all have the chance to grow up and let go of that me-centered world view. For example, just showing up at an activity that I’m not truly a fan of is my way of showing my family that I am there for them. Presence is everything, really. And we actually had fun!
Before me I have tons of work to clear up the lie. But I’m happily willing to act responsibly this time. Over time perhaps surprising results will happen. Or not. That’s where the serenity kicks in. I simply try to engage in the honest prep-work and then let go of the outcome. For its the journey not the arrival, yes? Guess that last line tells me the hour is way past my bed-time when I start writing like Grasshopper speaks on the Kung Fu television series starring David Carradine. Damn, spending the afternoon with family has me going retro. All in all, though, an awesome day. Yet I wouldn’t go as far as this guy who I heard while standing in line for the restroom: “Damn, dude, besides your wedding this is the best day I’ve had.” Go San Francisco 49′ers!
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: 49'ers, addiction, family, football, Mom, olive branch, prepwork, results, sobriety, tailgating, wreckage | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
Lies
September 17, 2009I tol my parents a big financial lie and then held onto it for nearly four years. Lies are tricky. Why do we execute them? I remember creating the atmosphere around the lie, which was self-protection from a bad decision. Takes courage to step out of that environment. And the days pass so damn quickly that the lie-thing buries itself into everyday behavior. And my parents took this lie so personal as if I intentionally sat down and planned to hurt them. I wish I hadn’t. But I have and so they are not speaking to me right now.
The hardest part is time lost. How long will we dwell in the mistake I made? Can we retrieve a sense of trust? I am not sure this time. Might have fallen too deep. I will see them and my two brothers in a few days. At least small talk and spending some time together will provide a presence together. Maybe that’s all we get. Makes me wonder who I am as a daughter. Yes, I’ve carved out a decent life in a career where I am of service to others every day. And yet that is a distant behavior perhaps a parent can only feel so proud of. More immediate and close is the lie. I have disappointed them as a daughter and perhaps I always will. What I can offer is laughter and the respect I feel for them. Maybe that is enough. Maybe not. Time will tell.
What I know for sure is that I don’t have any more lies in me. At 44-years-old I am all lied out. No more around for me to pull on. No need to run away from pressing stresses of self-created drama. Sobriety provides a daily refreshing chance to make amends–living amends that ideally show others I am countable. People can count on me these days. My brothers find an immediate response whenever they contact me. Staying loyal to family, the DNA and the community kind, feels like everything to me these days. What else do we have?
Leave a Comment » | Life | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
Her Name Is Jewel
September 17, 2009I sat down on her park bench the other day and chatted. She told me that her name is Jewel and she has one brown tooth on the right side and a missing one on the other. She patted Tigger gently and absent mindedly while talking. The other night somebody stole some of her things because so many “crazy” people live on the streets. She repeated the word several times. I asked her if she would mind if I brought her some mac-n-cheese from Trader Joe’s and she said sure. Yet when I returned the next day she said no. Sometimes open one day and then shut the next I suppose is common for a wary soul. When I asked her if she was from San Francisco, I had gone too far because she quickly answered yes and I knew that line of conversation was done. Early in the morning a few days ago, a man sat in his white official car that read “Park Ranger” on the side, waiting for her to gather her carts from inside the park.
She did have a big bottle of lotion near her side on one occasion. And in one of her carts I saw tucked away several glass jars of walnuts, almonds, and raisins. How does she have money? Where is she from? How can she smile so broadly every time I see her?
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: park bench, park ranger, San Francisco, teeth, Tigger, wary soul | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
Such Hard Work
September 8, 2009This afternoon we saw her in the park enjoying a barbecue. Stopped me in my tracks to see her surrounded by people. Her family perhaps, I wondered. One lady disproved that guess. “Dang, nobody paying me for all this food. She can have just a little. Shoot,” the woman said her plate stacked high with a cheeseburger. My homeless woman simply stared a full smile falling to a half one. “I didn’t take any meat,” she said politely. She turned around to a different table and filled her paper plate with food goodies.
She dressed like an ordinary librarian today simply stopping by the park to enjoy a picnic. Wearing a clean purple pullover and a beige skirt she looked like you or I. Her clean fluffy hair blew in the wind. And she spoke so articulately, wearing no glasses at all. I thought of the Ozanam Recovery Center where in the morning a friend went to her first AA meeting, silently crying at the honest people revealing brutally real stories of paths to recovery. Men in the building slept on floor cots everywhere, given the chance to dry out for three days. After they must hit the street. This homeless woman appears sober and not riddled by addiction.
What hard work though for her to establish integrity. This other woman didn’t have to belittle her so. No need, really. But the scene gave me the chance I’ve been hoping for. Staring at her face, a touch weathered, I conjured up a plan to buy her Trader Joe’s lotion when my check comes in this Friday. I can also microwave her some mean mac-n-cheese that TJs also sells. We’ll see how she reacts. By the smile I saw on her face today, she just might accept the gifts. She must be somebody’s grandmother because she looks so huggable.
And she gave herself a treat later in the night by stretching a thick blue plastic tarp over her carts and spreading out her sleeping bag full-length underneath. Tonight feels mild in temperature, so I hope she rests well. I need to find out why she fell so far. What is her story?
On our way back home we saw a tall muscled African American man shake a huge plastic bag, so the recycling would fall further in. A bicycle stood off the sidewalk in the road some 70 feet away from where he worked. A youthful white guy approached, placed his hands on the bars, kicked up the stand and started to move forward. “Is that yours?” I asked. “Maybe,” he said laughing. The recycling guy shouted, “Hey.” He hustled to retrieve his bike. “I was watching it for you,” I said. “Oh, ok, thank you,” he replied.
Hopping on he rode slowly down the street and around the corner he disappeared. But then he came right back enjoying a downhill slope for riding the bicycle and pulling a shopping cart already piled full. He stopped at the bag sitting in the street. A car drove by narrowly missing him. The guy tossed the last bag onto his cart and moved away pushing the bicycle on one side of him and the cart on the other. What hard work. What a labor day on 7 September 2009.
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: bicycle, homeless, integrity, Labor Day, lotion, mac-n-cheese, shopping carts, Trader Joe's | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
Falling in Love
September 7, 2009The other day I fell in love. Actually was probably a year ago. I just saw her randomly in a social context and could not stop talking about her. Simple snippets of description to anyone who would listen. I had no idea why I talked about her so often. A few weeks later, I ran into her for long enough to exchange a few words, but I had some friends waiting for me and I attempted a departure. I tried to take a step back and could not. I kept staring at her. Finally, successfully peeling away a few feet, I kept my eyes on her the whole time and distanced myself slowly. Then for ten days I constantly thought about her and did not pick up the phone. One random Monday afternoon she called me. And I will spoil the ending in the first paragraph. This is modernity; we rarely read the whole story anymore. But I learned a thing or two even though in the end nothing happened.
Probably wasn’t love at all. Maybe a mere hallucination. But this is what the experience felt like; I can vouch for that–the physiological side of this extreme adventure. Or perhaps can only partially vouch, since my behavior felt like an out of body view finder moment. I could easily float above my extremely bizarre behavior and ask what the hell I was doing. But the corporal me continued to act insane. Sure, you happily await lurid voyeuristic detail, yes? As a writer, I am happy to satisfy the customer always.
First, I played hide and seek. She would call and I feigned my absence even though I held the ringing cell phone in my palm. Then I’d call her back in ten minutes. Obviously she did not answer. Bright woman this one. Had me pegged from moment one. Second, I texted like a Bedoiun Arab in search of desert water for his camel (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bedouin) and himself. In short, I was bone thirsty for the adrenalin rush of sending and receiving super crazy texts that she politely responded too. What can I say? She is a really good woman. Finally, we would meet and I would treat her like crap. I caressed the art of saying something cruel. Self-esteem intact, she casually strolled away from these barbs, and gorgeous as she is, looked like she might spit at me with the velocity a camel is well-known for.
I laughed at and cursed myself. Embarrassing as all hell for a 44-year-old woman to still have so much to learn and grow up. One time a complete stranger in one of our shared sobriety circles came right up to me and said, “I wonder how I would be if I fell in love my first year of sobriety.” I looked at her quite flabbergasted and said instinctively, “I have no idea, but I wouldn’t be controlling.” That felt super good to hear coming out of my mouth. Showed real change, actually. Also demonstrated to me this split between how I was behaving in reality and how I hoped to behave.
Because folks who create lives free of addiction–people like me and a few million others around the world–control everything all their lives as a way to not engage with life. Our physiology is especially reactive to chemical substances and by extension also over reactive to life. So, we micromanage. Especially feelings. That is why a substance free life is truly one that focuses on emotional sobriety. To my credit, in my heart and head I could accept that I had gone off the deep end. So, I calmed down. And then I’d see her.
Swear to god one night a group of folks went out to dinner and she joined. By accident she sat across from me. We all ate good food and laughed during fun conversation. Cheerful goodbyes were wished all around. I returned home and happily prepared for bed. Turning off the light, I smiled to myself at what a full day I enjoyed. Then I tossed and turned for five hours. No joke. From 11 p.m. until 4 a.m. random lightning thoughts shot across my brain. Unwittingly, all about her. Physically tossing and turning in bed, I quietly asked God for a break. Over the months my foolish acts became unbearable for both sides and so she finally indicated we would quit for a while. Just now I had not seen her for three months. We met for a random lunch. Same thing with the tossing and turning at night. Albeit for fewer hours–God’s grace does show mercy, I suppose.
I’m insatiably curious about life and simply thrive on engaging in diverse events and with diverse people. With her, though, I feel still and do not want to be anywhere else but right in that moment. I suppose that’s my definition of romantic love, feeling so complete you finally feel at peace inside emotionally.
We didn’t evolve into anything. But I will always be fascinated to arrange a random shared meal. Then wait until night time and see what disturbances happen to my sleep. Falling in love is so damn strange.
True, all my life I’ve been challenged by commitment fears; next time I predict that I am really ready. Anything is possible.
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: commitment, emotions, falling in love, reality, sobriety | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
PMS Empathy
September 6, 2009Today she slept on a Sunday in the park around 2 p.m.as people crowded the well-gardened recreational space. She had a full sleeping bag cocooning her. I was so happy for her. The day was warm and she was completely safe with her carts nearby. I’m still curious why has a big pot? And the broom? And turns out that she does use just the single crutch. She pushes a single cart and then uses the crutch under one arm pit to steady her gait. Probably way too much information, but I’m especially full of empathy because I’m PMSing. Funny how those basic chemical charges arriving in our body as women and men create such radically different behavior waves. Is my estrogen surge putting my maternal instinct into over drive? Probably. Maybe. Who knows. I do wish I could take care of this woman somehow. And that comes from taking care of a lot of stuff as a young girl. Ok, alright, now I’m way too tangential, so I’ll sign off here.
Leave a Comment » | Life | Tagged: empathy, maternal instinct, PMS | Permalink
Posted by karolinawrites
