Tuesday, November 9, 2010

bits and pieces

Not true
It doesn't happen like that. Life is not like that. Remember when you were twelve and you read those teen romance novels. I tried to get into the Sweet Valley High series.

I'm not sure anymore. What do I do? Good for you, you know who you are. I'm sorry the rest of us can't be as comfortable with ourselves

Questions to answer

The first time I was afraid
The last time I felt fear
All the things I say in my head that I can't say out loud about the Indian stuff
"Creative Tremors" - what happens when your identity changes
The need to be indian, who was I before?
What's the vortex? Describe it.
Why did I gravitate toward moon people.
Can she "play the field" by telling people, she was other things.
What is my dramatic question and what are the stories that will lead me thru the arc.
Look at the sadness as part of the story.
What is her sensitivity, does she constantly fight the tears or does she let herself cry.
“Need to change the things we can’t accept”
What's the opposite of the tears?
What does the crying feel like?
What happens after the tears?
What happened during that moment of loss of control with the tears?
More about the character because she says crying is weak.
Is my crying pavlovyene?
What would be the words to each tear, what's their soundtrack?
What does she learn after she cries?
If there's a mystery, what are you trying to solve?
What do you want us to know about her?


I read about the strife of my people and sadness fills my heart. How can this be happening in this day and age? When you read "About 60% of the Elders on Pine Ridge have sole custody of their grandchildren or great-grandchildren so there are often small children in the home, also at risk." how can you not feel sadness and an extreme need to want to reach out. I am filled with constant question about why my people would allow this to happen to themselves, where are the children's parents, why don't they want to take care of their own parent's much less their children.

"While need is everywhere, particularly at this time of crisis, there are no greater needs than those of the Elders, children, disabled, and ill on these reservations. They have the lowest income, the least ability to gain funds, and often suffer from such serious health issues as to be severely impaired by the cold. Even worse, for the most part, they are the least able to travel to get assistance or to get someplace that might be warm. Moreover, according to the last Federal census, about 60% of the Elders on Pine Ridge have sole custody of their grandchildren or great-grandchildren so there are often small children in the home, also at risk."

"FACTS: Average income on the Oglala Lakota Sioux Pine Ridge Reservation is about $3,500.00 per YEAR. Jobs are extremely scarce; unemployment hovers around 85% on this 11,000-square-mile reservation which houses about 40,000 people. The other Lakota Reservations face similar economic conditions."

how to dress/look like an indian

First off, you need something brown-like, you know buckskin looking. It's a simple shift, shor so you can see the indian princecess' legs, a belt, fringe, mocassins, add a few feathers, some silver and turquoise.

The picture of an indian princess, typical turn of the century you know, 19th century. Because what else do indians look like.


The party was in full force by the time she arrived. The moon hiding behind dark clouds made the evening seem a bit off. She stood on the patio overlooking the party, 80s music permeating the night air, white tents dotting the backyard, each holding their own mischief. She scanned the crowd for a familiar face. She enjoyed parties, but never really liked to attend alone. Tonight was different, the venue intrigued her and she was curious to see its inner workings. It did not disappoint. From the moment she walked through the front entrance she was impressed, it was like something from a movie. The large double entry doors gave way to a light pink, darkly veined marble with a crescent shaped staircase, a large crystal chandelier twinkling overhead, party noises echoing throughout the cavernous foyer. Deep breath. As the waiter passed, she snags a tall bubbling flute from his tray and continues on her way. Putting the glass up to her lips, she could feel the soft burst of the sparkling wine on her nose, leaving a slight imprint of her bottom lip on the rim. Her heels clicked as she walked towards the noise. Another deep breath, another sip. Here she stood leaning against the granite railing, the faint light from the moon and outdoor lighting picked up the tiny pieces of sequins that dotted her dress. She looked out into the sea of faces and found him, how could she not. There he stood, the center of attention, dressed in a dark blazer with white button up shirt, that brought out his tan. His long lean legs covered tightly in dark denim. She could not see his feet, but was sure he had his boots on. The thought of this made her smile. Not wanting to call attention to herself, she stood there for the longest time, taking in the slight smell of freshly cut grass, as well as following his every move.

She was thinking of the first time they met, all those years ago. Again it was his height that lured her to him. In a crowded bar, you couldn't help but notice him. He stood above the crowd, his scruffy face and smiling face just made you want to go to him. She was sitting in a booth with the usual suspects, Jo, Jeanette and Melissa, and their tag-a-long Tanya, as well as some of the other sorority sisters. Also in the booth were some guys from TKE and their pledges. This was a usual Thursday night for them, hanging out at the sorority house making the drink of the day, then dancing the night away at the Alpha on college night. Being regulars at the bar, they knew everyone, but the tall stranger was a new face to her, though familiar, she tried to remember where she had seen him before. All of a sudden the familiar boom of their song rang out, and so did a collective screetch from their booth. One last gulp of their drinks as they pushed their way through the crowd between them and the dance floor. Once there, they circled up and sang along with the song, jumping and bumping to the beat. The song came to an end, and the crowd filtered off the dance floor as a slow song started. She looked around and her posse was either dancing or had escaped the geeks. She felt tap on her shoulder and she cringed, afraid to turn around. Ready with an excuse of why she couldn't dance, she turned, and there he was. The handsome face from earlier. Not really saying a word, but merely shrugging his shoulders, she cocked her head to the side and gave her best coquettish smile and reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders. She settled in the lull of the music and placed her head on his chest. She felt his arms pull hold her a little tighter. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek. This made her smile and tiny butterflies in her stomach flutter. The song neared an end and she loosened her grip on him, looking up to thank him for the dance. He looked down at her, not loosening his grip, and asked if she would mind another dance. The music still slow, she gave a nod as she looked into his eyes. So what's your name he asked. Sally, she replied, as she asked his. Huh, she thought to herself, Sally, really? Where did that name come from? If you're going to make up a name, at least think of something cool, not Sally? With all the talk in her head, she missed his name, it started with an M. Mark? Matthew? He joked and kidded with her as he held her in his arms. She laughed, enjoying herself and not even thinking of her boyfriend, who was hundreds of miles away. The beat picked up again, and people flooded onto the dance floor around them as they parted ways. She stood there watching him as his walked away. Jo grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the group as she lost sight of him through the crowd, to once again bounce and dance.
A familiar voice brought her back to the present. "Nadia darling, so glad you could make it" said the voice. She turned to be greeted by a drunk and sloppy kiss on both cheeks from the hostess, skillfully avoiding the merlot that swished from overfilled wine glass. "Well Mia, you do throw the best parties, I'd hate to miss all the gossip tomorrow" she replied. "Well dear, you know the things that happen here are the tales the legend." Nadia just shook her head, only Mia was vain enough to think this way of her parties were all that. "So dear, who do you have your sights on tonight. You did come alone, didn't you, I didn't see your usual minions." She said with a laugh and another swig of merlot. "They are not my minions, they just look up to me and besides, and this was a last minute decision I didn't want to have to wait the hour for Paige to get ready." "Yes, she is a piece of work" Mia said under her breath, "well, I do have a new boy for you to meet, I found him on my latest travels and had him flown in for the party. Jean-Michel, Jean-Michel" she yelled as she snapped her finger, "ici cheri, j'ai quelqu'un que tu dois rencontrer. Monsier Jean-Michel Lachance, voila mon amie, la jolie Nadia." Nadia held out her hand, as the handsome stranger kissed it, "enchanter mademoiselle" and he gave a courtesy, a smile and a wink. Nadia blushed. "You need a drink darling. Mario, drink for my friend here" Mia barked as she snapped her finger again, "I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted, you do speak french right dear? No matter, I have a feeling there won't be much talking..." she finished with a devilish laugh as she walked away.

"Nadia, quelle jolie nom. Alors, dites moi comment vous connaissez Mia?"
"J'ai rencontrer Mia au Vatican, si vous pouvez croire ca? J'etudiais la bas, et mon italien laissais beaucoup a desirer. Je cherchais un sculpture en particulier et j'essayais de demander l'aide a le trouver. Mia m'a sauver et apres ca on etais inseparable." Nadia was lost in her thoughts and memories of her travels throughout Europe with Mia.
"Et vous? Que faites vous, que vous pouvez laisse tout tomber et venir au Etats? Mia ma dis que t'etais en Paris ce matin."
"Ah, oui, quand Mia vous invite a un party, comment pouvez vous resister. J'aurais du demander ou le party etais."


I think I've figured it out. I don't know how to be indian. When I think Indian, I think of buckskin and feathers, riding bareback across the open plains, I think of a shawl wrapping around me, it's edges covered in beads and shells, that make the pretties sound when you dance. At each bounce step you hear the rhythm of the dancer, like a low rush of a river. I can see the turquoise and silver dripping from my neck. A leather headband holds my single feather upright. Beaded bracelets and more turquoise and silver line my arms. Amber and precious stone rings the size of my knuckles cover my fingers. My people Woodland people, my clan the Crane. The men wear huge silver serving platter sized belt buckles, jeans that fit almost like a second skin and a shirt with some weird pattern held together with pearl buttons. On their feet, pointy leather cowboy boots and topping off the ensemble, the biggest 10-gallon hat you've seen, with some type of feathery hat band. When they look to their wrist for time, the hours are surrounded by boulders of red coral and turquoise stone.


After being sick for a week, and not in a happy I'm fabulous mood, Roxanne decided to go to the audition. It was for a soap opera, and she should have put more thought into it, but she didn't. Not quite the soapy star, she dressed in jeans, high heels and some soft scrunchy shirt. Still feeling a little under the weather, she thought of making her hair stick straight, so she could look more indian, but instead she ran a comb through it, put some make up on and headed out the door. As she walked down the street towards the office, she channeled a confident actress she knew and strutted into casting office. Without her glasses, she could berely see the back of the room so she signed in and took a seat near a few fellows she recognized, giving the obligatory "hug". As she took a seat, bopping to the beat of her sad songs, she felt a tap and looked up. There she was her role model, hair tightly curled and the obligatory cleavage top, stopping by for a quick hello. Her seat faced the door and she could see everyone that walked in. It intrigued her to wonder how indian these people were. Yes, it matters, she thought. These


I need motivation and encouragement around me. Do I? really? Where have you gone Wanda? my warrior, when did you give on our fight?
I don't what to do Wanda. If pressed to what my dreams are, I don't know them anymore. If I traveled back to remember my times with Wanda, it would be dreams of singing, dancing and strutting my stuff down the runway or on t.v.. Why does someone want that? Never really concerning yourself cliche until you've overgrown it and all your hopes and dreams have been "booed" out of you. You have to go underground with it all. But not Wanda, she continued on her solemn quest, she wanted to be like the other girls, but how realizes she really wasn't cool. More pathetic than not. Her boyfriend James who lived in Massey was just a kid of a friend of the family, who were thrown together for just that reason. Still my hero. I don't know where my dreams have gone, much less what they were when they left.
How could I let someone take this away from me. My power. My muse. Who exactly this person was, I am not sure. Was it the love of my life who all of a suddenly stopped loving me? No, he probably helped, since after losing him, my love life picked up again and I was back to breaking hearts and couples without even trying. Remember Aaron, Todd's friend an Raina who was pissed at me because we fell asleep talking and watching t.v. I am a cuddler and her apartment was cold, how can you resist a cutie who will let you fall asleep in his arms, I did not break-up him an his girlfriend up. At least I didn't to visit him during Winter Carnival. I would've, had not moved across the country a month earlier.
I have to talk and reminisce about these times because they made me feel special and wanted and above all, pretty.

Here it is! Vic and Wanda

So Vic, tell me about documentaries? You went to film school right? I mean what's the point when you follow your subjects around for a day, then cut that down to grueling hour and a half. I rather not name names, but the title rhymes with "the SCHM-exiles". The program said it was released in 1961 and nothing much came of it's director afterwards, and it was filmed in the mid 50s when he, the director, was still a student. Not that I am a cinefile by any stretch of the imagination, and I can't or don't, wax poetic about a film..."oooh it was beautifully shot...the chemistry between the actors was unbelievable..." I am sure that I should have seen some cinematic greatness in the film, but to me it's just like a really bad home movie.

While watching it I am reminded of the weekend drives to the rez, when I would visit my boyfriend. I couldn't call him to tell him I was coming, because they didn't have a phone. So then I would worry sometimes when the cab dropped me off and drove away, what if no one was home? I'd have to then hope the store was still open, so I could call for a ride back to town. My walk through the snow, on the worn path between the houses was long and cold. I'm not sure why I never got dropped off in front of the house, maybe it was because I didn't want to pay extra or that I didn't want the cab driver to know where I was going, because then my dad might find out, then I'd be grounded again for another month. He didn't grow up on the rez, neither did I, but I did have contact with it and he didn't really like that. Looking back, the secret trips made me sad. My boyfriend was the middle child, 17, and he and his brothers pretty much fended for themselves. His parents worked out of town, and for all the times I'd been there I'd never met them. Their uncle, who was strung out most of the time, was supposed to keep an eye on them, but he usually brought the people over to party. It was sad, there was rarely food in the house, the fridge didn't have food, but a few beer, I always had to bundle up, because the heat was rarely on.