Stacey Moves

Saturday, March 15, 2008

i related to a small bug yesterday. i was sitting outside reading, enjoying one of the rare days of perfect weather in houston, and this tiny insect appeared on the upper corner of the page. "hello," i said, struck by it's harmlessness. she (i'm sure it was a she) was no bigger than a sesame seed, and reddish-black. i think she may have been a baby ladybug. and she waited patiently on the page while i read, descending steadily down the page with my eyes...pausing when i paused to re-read that funny line. clever girl.
then it occurred to me- i am this bug. i appear, harmless and strangely noticeable, and gingerly move about just within the periphery. "is she a ladybug? or just some random insect? feckless and discolored? eh, no matter." that's what plays in my head when i'm in a new setting, with new people, especially male people. i just never used the insect analogy before. but it's perfect.
when it was time to turn the page, i began to lift the paper gently to see if she would catch the hint. she sat there- hard to tell if it was happily or out of fear- but i offered her a gentle nudge; i applied pressure to the paper with my fingernail until she began the trek uphill, up and over to page 54, resting again in the corner, waiting.
i finished the next two pages quickly, engrossed by the images painted by the author's full words. then suddenly, i noticed my bug was gone! my eyes and heart wilted for a breath, and i realized i hadn't said good-bye. all i did was think about myself and my sorrows, instead of really getting to know that little baby lady. oh well. perhaps i'll see her again...crimson and covered in spots, the markings of a true lady.

Monday, February 25, 2008

should i stay, or should i go now?
*disclaimer: anything written/spoken/thought in tucson, az is subject to emotional inflation and can therefore not be used as evidence against the author.
i've asked myself this question before. and unfortunately the luxury of time is not something i possess. at the end of this week i will return to the flurry of life in houston, gas prices, I-10 traffic, a new apartment, and rent on said apartment. i get the strangest feeling an invisible man is sitting on my chest.
the story goes like this: i jumped into the abyss (texas) on the basis that i was maintaining my solidarity and that i could leave if my new reality failed to meet my needs. what did i find, but a magical wonderland of new faces, new ideas, new friends with absolute faith in my abilities and heret0fore hidden talents (hidden to me, i guess). i am invigorated, i am stimulated, i am on a straight and narrow path and i like it! then christmas....the most wonderful time of the year...this time around christmas brings devastatingly tempting gifts of a few days of no responsibility, parties, a birthday- my quarter century!, and sex. oh, the intoxicating effects of it all! i have left my bubble of a life back in texas, and upon returning i see the lone star state not so shiny as before...i feel a sudden sensation of heaviness, like in a moment i've been turned to stone, and then everything around me slows down and i get to see the fissures and flaws ordinarily glossed over by the pace of everyday life. then panic sets in; i'm immobile, statuesque in the least complimentary way, and the ground beneath me is turning to quicksand. somebody, help (mom!) before i'm swallowed up and silenced forever!
i am not so hopeless that i tread heavily through my everyday life; to the contrary, i jump in with both feet, arms up, eyes open. but this scenario is not new and therefore brings added weight due to the ever-growing list of what ifs and shall i/will i/can i's. as the pack mule of my own neuroses, i am the only one to blame for the load. i keep picking up useless baggage and emotional horse flies (boys). the carrot dangling before me is a little snow globe of a scene in london- down back hill in islington, a little place called drama centre. i stand in the cobblestone street before the doors wearing my wellies and wooly hat, camera and scripts in my bag, face beaming. underfoot i notice a very different scene. one 3,000 miles away, savings dwindling and creative output confined to dressing mannequins in athletic wear...they do look very good...but at what cost?
i write this from mom and dad's house (i'm not too proud to know when i need my mom) in the haze of a lunar eclipse, hormonal peaks and valleys, a flurry of engagements and other such rights of passage, and a ben and jerry's hangover (i'm also not too proud to go the ben and jerry's route occasionally). it sure feels safe and warm here- my biggest stress being my mother (she's really a soft cloud on a sunny day compared to the ominous thunderheads of rush hour and financial responsibility); i waver. i am teetering on the precipice of this next phase, the next seven months of 'everyday' life in a less than idyllic reality. and i choose to be here. i recognize that i am in control of my immediate situation- i could choose to quit my job and pack the car and drive home to tucson. OR i can learn to budget, move out on my own, put my head down and focus on that damn carrot! the consequences of the former far outweigh the latter in all areas, financial excepted.
the facts of the situation align perfectly in the universe's plan, but as a capricorn, i am prone to believing i have all the answers, and that sometimes even the universe is mistaken. and to expand on this astrological exposition of myself, i would like to state, in case the reader is unclear, that with a moon in gemini, one 'tends to react to situations with thinking, rather than direct action.' did i mention the 'tendency to be nervous and high-strung'? a wise man once told me, "chill out! sounds like someone needs a joint and a hot bath." i guess even the sages make mistakes, for, oh, the paranoia that marijuana brings. is there no relief?
but i believe there is. in writing. in sharing the absurdity of this mind with the invisible audience. in meditation, which, for obvious reasons can also seem like torture. and in action; in movement and expression...god bless the musicians and the yogis, for without them, we'd all (meaning me) be lost.

Thursday, February 07, 2008

here are some words i thought i'd share....
guess i'm a poet.
i walk down the street comfortable in my own skin
the spark of life
who i am
what i am:
in the inkwell...
a star
the syllables rumble
over and under my tongue like
language and sound were
as inconveniently intertwined as
two star-crossed lovers
they take my life
strip away with violence
the cool slap of talking pretty
and slice, white hot
down the center of my mouth
spilling sounds
i never thought i'd hear again
beyond heaven or earth
sea or sky
shooting deeper into everything
my lips could never speak
how far
"i should and i would if i could"

i know i should stop drinking coffee
but every morning it's the first move i make.
i pour some milk into the mug first-
one of the big glass ones-
and fill it to the brim
with dark, fragrant coffee.
i like watching it mix with the milk,
no stirring necessary,
because i don't like a dirty spoon laying around
leaving a spot on the counter.
i know i should stop drinking coffee
but every morning what would i pour on top of the milk
in my favorite, oversized mug?
and i would miss the satisfaction of mixing milk and coffee
without a spoon.
it would be like a biker without a bandana,
a jogger without a jumpsuit.
i don't make waffles or pancakes
i don't have grapefruit or orange juice.
i know i should stop drinking coffee
but every morning it's the first thought i think
and oh, how i love it...
costa rica, kenya, gold or french roast
in my favorite mug, with a splash of milk.
my morning without coffee would be like
fourth of july with no fireworks
i might not notice the lack of pyrotechnics
or if i did, i could just think, well, i'm in bali...
i know i should stop drinking coffee
so maybe i'll just take a vacation-
costa rica, kenya, gold or french coast...

Monday, January 21, 2008

21 january, 2008.  by twelve midnight tonight i will have been sober for three weeks exactly.  big deal? you say.  but this may be the longest i've gone without a drink since i started drinking in college.  ah, the days of frat parties and drom (for those of you not familiar with drom, that's what theatre geeks at usc call the drama's amazing, and complete debauchery.)  i can't say i miss those days, but i recall them with a smile...and a subtle shaking of the head.  now, however, my life is turning in a vastly different direction.  i've moved from born-and-bred catholic schoolgirl in tucson, to usc sorority girl, then QUICKLY to usc theatre student, to college grad, to angst-ridden actress in LA, to aspiring yogi, to angst-ridden ex-girlfriend, to the twenty-four year old living in mom and dad's house, to the lost and lonely wino,  to sure-i'll-move-to-texas girl, to assistant store manager of lululemon athletica/yoga teacher.  sheesh.  and i continue to forge ahead.  recalling the past, creating the future, and sometimes bringing the two together in surprising ways (if you're out there, you know who you are.)  i have always possessed a pretty keen intuition- sometimes confusing what was actually "stay away/get away from this tool" for "ooh, you're sexy," but c'est la vie.  the point of it all is to constantly refer back to myself as the ONLY gauge for success/happiness/perfection.  the more i refine my sense of self, the more accurate my measurements.  and the more pure my body and mind, the shinier and brighter the Self.  if this keeps up, i may just end up living my wildest dreams.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

my blogging adventure began with my move home. now i revisit my blog after having moved again, once more to a place i never dreamed of going. i live in texas. now to all you texans out there, please do not take offense. i was basing my opinions purely on my distrust of G.W., not because of any cold-hard facts which proved to me that texas was terrible. and, to offer an even bigger olive branch, i happen to be loving texas. the lone-star state sure gets a bad rap out there. i mean, really, have you ever been anywhere that's perfect?? we always make exceptions when we really love a place, but there are idiots everywhere, and gems to be discovered also. i have found a gem in houston, and it's made me a believer in the great state of texas. i am already involved in a beautifully committed yoga and dance community, as well as taking advantage of some amazing museums, venues and cultural events i've seen. minus the fact that there are little to no outdoor activities taking place, or even possible, in houston, i am thrilled to be living here.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

alright, stop, collaborate and listen. stace is back with a brand new edition.

you think you know, but you have no idea.

nor do i, actually. life has a funny way of doing that. pierced, tattooed, short-haired carnivore who teaches yoga and gets drunk sometimes while watching foreign films. did i mention that i'm single?

i can't stop waking up at 6am and i wish that meant i was waking up to do yoga or go for a walk. but, i just wake up instead, head for the coffee pot and watch 'frasier' re-runs while eating cereal.

my life is pleasant, but not exciting; happy, but not joyful; full, but not meaningful. i am smart, but not brainy; fuller, but not zaftig; kind, but not saintly.

i crave music and dancing. i want to be an actress but i don't want to go to hollywood. i love flirting but i don't think i have the talent. or maybe i meant 'acting.' "for in truth, i fear i am terrible at it." does love get you everywhere? certainly not. but nothing is truly possible without love. make sense? i love traveling and i wish i could do it for free.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Dear Dennis,
You don't know me well, but I've been an admirer of yours for some time now. I look for you every time I go shopping, but rarely do I see your tattooed arms and slicked-back hair. The first time we met I was rushing back to work from my lunch break and as I collected my protein bar and bottled water you winked at me, sending my heart all aflutter. After weeks and weeks of looking for you at the Express Check-out line, we met again! You were singing softly under your breath, and when I asked if you were in a band, you replied, "I am." "Do you sing," I asked, kicking myself for stating the obvious, when you answered, "I sing, and I also play the sax and sometimes drums." Just when I had gotten my heart rate down, you got serious with the customer in front of me. What was he saying? Something about the organic goat cheese? I thought I would melt into a warm puddle on the floor when you began discussing organic food and the perils of corporate farming...can we ever be, the two of us? If you would like to meet, I'll be waiting for you between the Australian Shiraz and the Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc next Friday at 1pm- you know the aisle. I have short hair and hazel eyes. That's all you need to know. See you next Friday, my love.

Yours Truly,