the pro-choice morality play, part four

Beth
So, Dick, what do you think? Do you think you can be a better mother, a better woman, that we are? (removes tape or whatever prevented him from speaking)

Dick
I don’t know. I just want my life back.

Laina
The one where you knew the best thing for Jace before even walking through a van door, before you even knew her name, age, family, circumstances, thoughts, dreams, aspirations, and all of those things that culminate in the whole of who she is?

Dick
I … I just want my life back. Please. This is too much. I, I don’t. I…

Beth
Oh don’t cry, dear. Everything will work out. You’ll realize that this child is the baby you never knew you wanted.

Laina
Yeah. Look, we can’t hold you here forever. Once you walk through that door, all we can do is hope that you will make the best choice for you and your child. (releases the Dick restraints)

Beth
I hope you don’t think we were too harsh, but the ends justify the means, right?

Dick
I… Can I go?

Laina
Yes. (opens the door) We wish you well.

Beth
Both of you. (Dick leaves)

SCENE III
Outside of the clinic. The same crowd is still there making the same noise. Dick enters and crosses to the clinic. The security guard stops him.

Dick
I have an appointment.

The security guard lets him by. The crowd mumbles trying to figure out what just happened/how he got in there. Some probably try to enter, repeating the appointment line but are stopped by the guard.

SCENE IV
Inside the clinic. Dick waits in an examination room (complete with stirrups!) Beth enters in white lab coat.

Beth
Dick! What… Hello.

Dick
Wait. I… I can’t be pregnant. I can’t have a baby. I don’t want to do this.

Beth
Hey. It’s okay. Look. Here we are all about options. I’d like you to speak with our social worker. She’s trained to go over all the options including what sort of help is available to you.

Dick
Look. That’s nice and all, but I know what I want. I don’t want to be pregnant. I’m done.

Beth
Okay, but it is part of the process, so just let me get her. (She pokes her head out the door and motions for someone to come in – of course it’s Laina)

Laina
Hi, Dick. How are you?

Dick
I’m not good. I’m just ready to get back to normal.

Laina
I understand. Now, we just want to make sure that you are choosing to terminate your pregnancy on your own. No one is forcing you to do it?

Dick
No… why would…

Beth
It happens more than you would think.

Dick
Really? But why would the clinic care?

Laina
Pro-choice means all choices. We council people on keeping their babies, putting them up for adoption, and terminating their pregnancies. Contrary to some opinions, this is not an abortion mill.

Dick
I didn’t know.

Beth
Very few of those protesters choose to find out. It’s easier to just make assumptions and believe what other people tell them.

Dick
I’m sorry.

Laina
Thank you.

Beth
Dick, we do need to move forward. We need to confirm that you are pregnant before we move forward. Also, I have to show an ultrasound of the fetus as well as make the appointment for the procedure at least 24 hours away.

Dick
We can’t do it all now?

Laina
Unfortunately, we can’t.

Dick
I won’t tell anyone.

Beth
I’m sorry, Dick, but we can’t put the clinic in the crosshairs of legal action.

Laina
Hey! At least you are over 18, so we won’t have to ask your parents!

Dick
This is so stupid! I know what I want. I shouldn’t have to wait.

Beth
That’s the law. Sorry. Your legislators apparently know better than you. Now, can you lay back. We have to do the ultrasound. (knock at the door) Come in. (Jace enters)

Laina
Hi, Jace.

Dick
Oh. Hi. I…

Jace
I think we should tell him now.

Dick
I’m not pregnant, am I?

Beth
No.

Dick
You can’t implant a fetus in a liver, can you?

Laina
We can. Jace decided that she didn’t want to go through with it. It was her choice.

Jace
I wanted them to make you think you were pregnant and see what happened. So. I’m still pregnant. And I’m still trying to make a decision. I have four children. My husband trusts me in this decision. I want to send my children to college. I want so many things for them that a new child will make more difficult to pay for. I love my children. I would love any new child. So, Dick, what do you think I should do?

Dick
I… I think you should… I…

Jace
Well?

Dick
I don’t know. What do you think you should do?

Laina & Beth
Exactly.

I'm not sure if this is the best ending, but it's a start.

Part One; Part Two; Part Three

the pro-choice morality play, part three

Beth
You’re going to have a baby! You’ve got to focus on that. Babies are miracles, and this one even more so.

Dick
But I don’t want it. I have plans and goals that don’t include …

Laina
It’s not about you anymore; it’s about that precious gift living in your body.

Beth
Sharing your every experience.

Laina
Maybe if you saw it, you’d understand what this means.

Beth
Yes! Every mother needs to see his baby. It’ll help develop that strong bond between the two of you. You’ll really know how precious that little life is. (Laina has pulled the ultrasound machine into the space and started it up. I imagine that high pitched whine like when old TVs were turned on.)

Laina
Beth, can you get Dick ready?

Beth
Certainly. (Beth pulls Dick’s shirt and squirts a clear jelly on his belly)

Dick
Stop. You can’t do this. Leave me alone.

Laina
We’re just going to shoot sound waves through your body so you can get a picture of your baby. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Dick
That’s not my baby! I don’t want it. Take it out!

Beth
Dick. If we do that, the child will die. It cannot survive another transplant.

Dick
I don’t care!

Laina
Hush! (silences Dick however it can be done; I imagine something with duct tape) You are just being selfish!

Beth
Now look. (she puts the device over his belly and slowly draws it across; Laina holds his head facing the monitor) There! Do you see that?

Dick
(Shaking his head) Uh uh.

Laina
It’s right… here. I think. That bit of fuzz.

Beth
No. It’s this right here.

Laina
No. That’s not it! It’s right here.

Dick
Mmmph mmmph mmph mmmph mmmph.

Beth
That’s what they all say. Oldest excuse in the book: If we can’t even pick it out, how’re you supposed to feel connected to it? Well, Dick, because you are. You are connected to it.

Dick
Mmmmph mmmph mmmmph mmmph mmmph.

Laina
Heard that one too, but women as the baby carriers is only a technicality now. And frankly, we are tired of having our uteruses held over their heads… so to speak, because they could one day maybe have a chance at hosting a baby for any length of time for any number of reasons.

Beth
We’ve decided that it’s your turn. You can spend nine months being told how to live, eat, be, think; having people think they can touch your belly whenever they want because "really" they are touching the baby.

Laina
As if the baby would say yes to every hand coming its way if it had the option to say no.

Beth
Right. To have doctors dictating how you bring your child into the world and ignoring your requests

Beth & Laina
For the baby.

Laina
To have motherhood used as a punishment.

Beth
Because you are not a human being alone.

Laina
Without a family.

Beth
You might as well be dead.

Laina
You need that husband to help you make decisions.

Beth
You can’t be trusted to make them yourself.

Laina
And god help you if you like women.

Beth
But that’s a discussion for another time.

Laina
We’ve decided since men are the only ones to be trusted, it is time we cut out the middle-women.

I'm really into this counter of "using motherhood as a punishment". I'm sure I've heard it before, but I just can't place where. I am definitely in the part of the process where I need to get as many ideas/anger out, so we'll see how it goes.

Part One; Part Two

the pro-choice morality play, part two

Dick
But but but I can’t be pregnant. I’m a man.

Beth
Oh, come on now. I don’t think being pregnant makes you any less of a man.

Dick
NO! I don’t have the right … equipment.

Beth
It’s called a uterus, and you are right. That’s why we didn’t implant your baby in your uterus. That would have been silly!

Laina
And futile.

Beth
Right. We implanted it in your liver. Now, I know that you are thinking. You’ll miscarry the baby because it’s not the proper environment, but don’t worry. Sometimes a fetus… oops, I mean baby, will implant in a liver when the uterus is absent. Once we figured out how to remove a gestating baby without aborting, we just made a logical leap as to what the next step would be.

Dick
But …

Laina
Yes?

Dick
Why didn’t just put into some other uterus!

Laina
Beth, do you mind if I take this one?

Beth
Be my guest.

Laina
You see, Dick, a uterus isn’t just a waiting compartment for anything that wants to move in.

Beth
It’s not Tupperware!

Laina
Exactly. It has to go through hormonal and physical changes in order to be prepared to maybe accept a fertilized egg, and even then it’s not a guarantee that implantation will occur.

Beth
That potential human could end up in the toilet without anyone ever knowing or doing anything to cause it.

Laina
Um… yes. (to Beth) A little less crass, please. (back to Dick) So you see, if we tried to implant there, our chances of success would be much lower. After a few dozen trials with the liver - which as far as we can tell doesn’t need all of those hormones – our success ratio has reached 90%. Isn’t that wonderful?

Dick
I don’t want to be pregnant.

Beth
You should have thought about that before you walked into a strange van with people you barely knew. Now you’ll just have to own the consequences of your actions. This baby didn’t do anything wrong. Do you think you should punish it?

Dick
Well, I uh. Um, no. But this is not something I’m prepared for. I don’t know the first thing about a baby – born or pre-born.

Laina
Your baby. You need to start thinking of it as your baby.

Dick
I’m not keeping it.

Beth
Well, adoption is an option.

Laina
But I think you’ll have to wait until after it’s born and say you’re the father. If you tell an agency that you are pregnant, they might not believe you.

Dick
I am the father.

Laina
No. You’re the mother. At the very least, you are the surrogate.

Dick
You should have asked me before you did this. You should have told me what you were going to do!

Beth
Oh, I’m sorry.

Laina
We should have given you all of the (medically accurate) information about what was going to happen, but we didn’t think that was in your best interest.

Beth
Yeah. And we probably should have gotten your consent, but everything about you just said yes and so we didn’t think we really needed to ask. (ed. I want to make sure that this part – which like the whole script is still in first draft form – doesn’t exploit the experiences of those who have been assaulted. I don’t feel that I am but if I am, I want to find another way to make this point and if there isn’t a better one, I’m absolutely willing to drop this)

Dick
What am I going to do?

... but wait! there's more!

So this is part two. I should have Part Three up tomorrow. Comments and feedback can be sent to the email address in the sidebar or just leave them in the comments below!

Part One is here.

the pro-choice morality play

SCENE I
Outside of a clinic.
A large group of people are yelling, praying, and/or signing loudly. A girl walks by, the noise gets louder and clearly directed at her. A few people invade her space and follow her until she finally gets inside the clinic doors where a security guard prevents the followers to enter. One man in his 40s or 50s stands out through all of this. He isn’t the leader but has drunk a lion’s share of their Kool-Aid. (ed. Is this stronger if he’s more of a cog, less convinced?) A woman runs over to him and pulls him away.

Dick
Beth, what is it?

Beth
We’ve got one. She was going to go into the clinic… didn’t know… if she was actually pregnant…she is. She’s almost there, Dick! She’s so close to saying “no” to a senseless murder.

Dick
Okay. What do we do?

Beth
We need you. I think a man is what we need. Someone with authority to really get her to get her to keep her baby.

Dick
I’m your Dick! Where’s the van?

Beth
Around the corner. Hurry. She’s nervous. I’m not sure how long Laina can keep her there without force. Come on!

Dick
Guys! I’ll be right back. Looks like all of our hard work is going to pay off. Here. Hold this. (hands sign to protestor, runs off)

Beth
(Looks intently at a particular sign; after dick is off – to herself) That’s not a fetus.


SCENE II
Interior of a large clinic type van. Part of it is curtained off.
Two thirty-fiveish year old women sit in opposite chairs, generally looking out of the window.

Laina
How’re you doing?

Jace
Fine I guess. I’m just not sure if…

Laina
I know. We can’t make you do anything; I just hope you make the right decision.
(knock at the door)
Come in. (Dick enters) Jace, this is Dick. He’s taking time from his day to come and talk to you. Dick, this is Jace. (Laina gets up to allow Dick to sit)

Dick
I was…

Jace
Expecting someone younger?

Dick
Yeah. I’m sorry. I just assumed you’d be sixteen or so and hiding from your parents.

Laina
Jace just found out she’s pregnant with baby number five. Isn’t that a blessing?

Dick
Five? Wow. Well that is … that is just wonderful!

Jace
Really? Because I’m not so sure. I mean we’re doing okay financially sort of, but I just think that a fifth kid is really going to start to strain us.

Dick
But a baby is a joy, no matter the burden. You have to remember that.

Jace
My oldest though, she wants to go to college and

Dick
Your oldest is a girl?

Jace
Yes

Dick
Well, she can help you care for the new baby. Plus you don’t want to teach her any bad moral lessons by killing her brother, do you?

Jace
She’s too busy, and she needs to keep her grades up. I don’t want her worrying about anything but her classwork.

Dick
True, I guess. She could think of it as life homework.

Jace
She doesn’t want to have children.

Dick
Sure she does! Just give her time. Once the new sibling is in the house, she’ll realize how great it is to be a mother. Like playing with dolls.

Jace
Babies aren’t anything like dolls, sir.

Dick
I know, but it’s - (during this time, Laina has watched and then picked up something from around the corner. She jabs a syringe into Dick’s neck – Dexter style – and he looks around surprised for a few seconds before losing consciousness)

Laina
Beth, get in here! (Beth enters) Grab his feet. Jace, would you mind pulling back this curtain? (she does, there is a hospital/vet type examination table. They lay Dick out on it and start prepping both Jace and Dick for a procedure.)

Jace
I’m not sure this is right.

Beth
Of course it’s not right, but talking hasn’t worked, legislation hasn’t worked, so we have to try something new. This isn’t Plan B; it’s plan MRA.

Laina
And thank you for helping us. After we’re done, you are welcome to stay and listen.

Jace
No. I think … Maybe. Can I sit somewhere where I can’t be seen?

Laina
Sure. Now, you are going to feel a little pinch, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

SCENE III
Interior of van
Dick is either still on the table or in one of the chairs – either way he’s tied down somehow. Laina and Beth flick cigarette butts out the window as he comes too.

Dick
What? Where? What happened?

Laina & Beth
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’RE PREGNANT!

Beth
You saved that precious child from certain death. You, sir, are quite the hero.

Laina
I didn’t think any man would step up when the real decisions and sacrifices needed to be made, but you are have proven me wrong. I am happy for the lesson.

Dick
What are you talking about? I … I was outside then there was a girl… no a woman… what the hell happened?!

Beth
Careful. Anger is not good for the baby.

Dick
What baby?

Laina
We’ve transferred to nearly aborted fetus from that woman’s uterus to your liver. You have saved a life! Yes, the pregnancy is a little dangerous, but a baby is a joy, no matter the burden.

...to be continued

I've seen these protestors so many times and just the lack of imagination and insight into other people's lives is astounding. Also, it's seems for some that any means necessary is appropriate as long as they win. There is a definite assumption that all women are the same and that women's want, dreams, desires, situations, or anything are inconsequential. Here, I'm trying to turn the tables. Also, I really really like that episode of The Cosby Show where all of the men are preggers.

angela & marianne

The last summer of absolute freedom sauntered its way toward orange and red days. Weeks of sunshine and no school and no authority in which language changed and relationships morphed and evolved. We were about to go through the fire of high school. We no longer played, we hung out. Secret conversations focused more on events than imagination. Breath changed and seemed for the first time real because of our control of it. How could we know that breath would become real to use a million times over our lifetimes?

Marianne was in a skirt for the first time since her third Easter when Mother presented her with the blushing pink dress complete with lace and ribbon. She was NOT going to wear THAT. I hate pink! Her face bloated to a tomato. It's only a day, an hour really. Just put it on. NO! The skirt tore at waistline, and Marianne was instantly over a knee. Pop! Pop! The noise brought the tears and wailing more than the pain. Now put it on. I don't like it. Well, you don't have to wear it after today, guilt trembling Mother's voice. Marianne sucked the snot back into her nose and wiped the remaining bit on her hand and her hand on her jammies. Promise? Yes, no more pink. Or dresses? We'll see.

She had avoided a skirt for ten years, but Angela had made her swear upon all things holy that she would wear something pretty that first high school day. Marianne had trouble saying No to Ang.

Nearly a year ago, Angela leaned her back against the oak, her sandwich poised for the first destructive bit. Her eyes darted back and forth, frantically taking in the groups of students and noting which ones glanced at her, which pretended they weren't talking about her, which were laughing at her even though she'd done nothing. She folded up her long and ever-growing legs, reached up the treed with her spine and defied them all to mock. down her nose she eyed that sandwich and bit in. A girl without a group positioned herself on the opposite side of the tree and began to chew her salad just loud enough to almost grate on your nerves. I don't know how you can stand to look at them. It's all so beige. Pardon? Them. They all have a kind of blindness to anything new or anything outside of the this ... bubble of a town. I don't like being judged. Please. Most of them probably don't even see you, and those that do only so they confirm their "superiority". So why watch? For information. Okay. The view over here is better though. The tracks? The tracks, the road, the sky, the trees, the birds - wouldn't you rather look at that? Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to go. Sure. I"m Marianne, by the way. Angela. Nice to meet you.

Angela knew this year was going to be different. People were goignt o like her this year. School was new for everyone. The field was level. She had had revelations at church camp this summer. She'd been popular and sought after. The two boys from school had warmed to her finally. She sang to her Awesome God and shared nights whispering about crushes to the girls in her cabin. She never whispered these things to Marianne. She hadn't realized she would even want to. Her mind created boyfriends from her first junior high. Jesus would forgive her these few fibs. The liles were not palatable, but she couldn't spit them out. Then the big chance. Billy had a crush on her. The girls told her to hold his hand, sit next to him at meals, laugh at his jokes, and sneak off when he asked - and he would ask. She did. All of it. And in a little wooded area, she finally had her first kiss.
But Ang, how can it be your first kiss? I've kissed you. It's different. It doesn't mean anything when you kiss me, but when a boy kisses you, it's something. It's a milestone. It feels like you can move forward, like everything will be okay. It feels good to be wanted, to not feel like a freak. Oh. You'll understand when it happens to you. Who's to say it hasn't?
She always knows how to push my buttons.

Ang caught her breath when Marianne got out of the car wearing a hippy skirt. Her heart changed its nervous thundering into some throbbing orb lodged in her throat. Marianne's hips had widened a bit over the summer, and she turned her pole-like frame away and absently touched the cross around her neck.
Why did she turn away? Marianne started feeling even more ridiculous than she had in the morning's mirror. She'd gone all out: skirt, peasant shirt, hair as controlled as the curls would agree to, mascara and lipgloss. She looked good or thought she looked good or maybe she should book it to the bathroom and hide. Ang definitely thought she looked stupid. Fuck. But Marianne made it to the flagpole next to her friend.
Hey. Hey. You look great. yeah, you too. Thanks for wearing the skirt. It looks good on you. You should do it more often. Please, you'd look better in it. Not with these bony hips. Your legs'd make up for it. What lunch do you have? Last. You? Same. Cool. Meet by the... Actually I don't know where... How about here? Yeah, that works. God, I missed you. Angela was in a hug she'd forgotten and that was over far too soon. The bell rang. See ya at lunch! Can't wait.

This story comes from work I did on Measure for Measure. I'm wondering how the dialogue reads, if you have to slow down too much and if it's fairly clear. Also, high school is weird.

scene about a dead friend

1

we used her. To make money. Not the most inconsequential thing in the world, but wouldn’t it be nice if it was?

2

how?

1

what?

2

how did you use her to make money?

1

"Someone’s died! Donate! Make her life mean more! Makes yours mean more in the process!" Not the most original formula.

2

and you split the money?

1

no. donated. To whatever charity was helping to cure her illness.

2

then not really a con.

1

no? Then why weren’t we doing it before? ‘how could we have known? Now we are doing our little part because we know, because we can.’ We could have done something before. Not necessarily that specifically. But we didn’t raise money. Volunteer. Nothing. And after the diagnosis, we did. For one moment in time we pretended to look outside of ourselves, think about someone else. Weren’t we just salving our own pain? I know. It’s not a bad thing to do, but recognition is important: it was never about her. Even when she died – when we found out she had died – we didn’t repeat the altruistic exercise. Once was quite enough to absolve ourselves from a deeper part of hell. Why? Why didn’t we think to do it again? It’s not like it would have been an original thought/idea? But we couldn’t even make that jump. I couldn’t. but then the face stares back at me again and I think it. More more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more. Just something. Just something. Something beyond this nothing. Beyond the forgetfulness. I want to take back the forgetfulness. Slate clean. No. slate was already clean. What do I mean?

2

see her again?

1

no. it’s not that. I mean she didn’t call us either… Maybe her forgiveness? But it’s not that either.



I want to have not just let her go. I want to have fought. Why didn’t I fight for her? Even to just see her one more time? Why did I let her go? Why did I just let her go?

This scene is from the script I was working on about my friend in college that passed away. It's not finished, mostly because I have a hard time finishing things (from Writer ADD rather than block).

DJPMUFA - Part Two

The next mornin’, Brooke’s momma made a full breakfast to celebrate the Twins…Almost’s … uh, triumph? The families gathered around the table and blessed the food to the nourishment of their bodies. Butter melted and flowed over the homemade buttermilk biscuits. Brooke forked a sausage straight from the serving dish to her mouth, causing both mommas to spit all three of her names out. Scrambled eggs were passed around and pancakes with syrup and gravy and Good Lord, this is making me hungry. Once all the items had made the rounds, everyone dug in. After only three bites, Wes’s momma lifted her coffee mug to her lips and sipped thoughtfully.

“Is there a drama club at y’all’s school?”

Wes started to answer.

“Honey, finish chewin’ and swallow before you talk. There’s no need for what you put in your mouth to be shown to everyone at the table.”

While Wes prepared to speak, Brooke’s momma agreed that a drama club was just what these children needed (their daddy's agreed too, but no one was listenin’ to them). It was the absolute perfect venue to channel all that creative energy. The school was well out of earshot of the neighborhood, but of course they didn’t say that.

“I’m not sure, Momma. I’ve never heard anyone mention it, and we read a play version of Peter Pan last year, remember? I read Wendy and Brooke read Nanny?”

“I should have ready Peter but Mrs. Johnson was relivin’ the time she played Peter in a park in Atlanta and had to fly by climbing up and jumping out of trees.”

“That’s right. Well, we need to find out. And if there isn’t one, we’ll just have to find out how y’all can start one.”

The plan was set. Breakfast finished with discussions of the day’s plans. Brooke and Wes were going to rehearse their routine. Their daddy’s were going to see if they could get a tee time or a check out the hardware store or go to the rifle range or hangout at Sears. The Mommas remembered they had a whole day of shopping to take care of and would the Twins…Almost be okay here by themselves?

“ABSOLUTELY!”
“Just … try to keep it down. For the neighbors.”

“We’ll try but we can’t make any promises.”

“When the Spirit moves you…”

“Yes. Well, try.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After everyone had showered, dressed and started their days, the Spirit most definitely visited the children and that Spirit moved and moved and moved them. The local mall had record sales and record amounts of loitering that day. It even beat the holiday rush. If they had known the cause, I’m guessing the two seven years olds could have been gainfully employed until at least their 8th birthdays running people out of their neighborhoods for the day.

So I'm going to keep working on this piece and posting more of the story. The coming parts will be only first or maybe second drafts, but I'll try to edit a whole story together once I have the whole thing out of my head and on to the computer screen.

excerpt from conversations with myself in the form of my mother

1

Maybe I drink so much because I have to force so many things about myself down, hide them. We don't want the neighbors to see. God forbid I'm not perfect. God forbid I'm human.

2

That's right. Of course it's my fault. Couldn't be your fear of looking eye to eye with the mirror. Definitely not. You've never been afraid of being brutally honest with yourself. So obviously it's me.

1

You can't handle me - who I am.

2

And you can't handle that I can't handle it.

1 or 2
(whoever earns it or however best it works for a production)

I can't I need you to be the image of you. I need you to rage against, to push, to love, and to fear losing above all others. If you morph or change or just shift outside of what I see as your path, I'll lose this force and guide and I , what if I don't like you or can't love you? What if I can? I could lose myself in your change. I could lose you. I have no idea if I'm brave enough either way.

2

Button's undone.

1

Dammit. I knew this shirt was too small. Do you have a safety pin?

2

No. I may have a paper clip though. No, just a bobby pin.

1

Think it'll work?

2

Maybe. Let's see. You're wearing an undershirt.

1

Yes.

2

Just unbutton the top and wear it open.

1

I can't do that.

2

Why not?

1

It has a stain on the boob. (pause) I don't like this.

2

Well, I like having you home.

1

I know. It's just so confining.

2

You can relax and not have to worry so much. Take some time and reset or something like that.

1

It feels like failure.

2

It does not.

1

It does.

2

Please. It's not failure, just a respite.

1

It's failure.

2

You are not a failure.

1

Please.

2

You are not a failure.

1

How could you possibly understand?

2

You are not a failure.

1

You have to say that. And why not? What isn't failure about this? does it look like I've accomplished anything? I've run away. Tucked my tail and fled. I let myself be defeated.

2

If you've been defeated, then you are a failure.

1

Jesus. That's helpful.

2

Well. Are you done? Actually totally and completely given up forever more? Are you?

1

I don't know.

2

Everything's in such stark contrast right now. Success, failure. It's not the question. I think you need time to ... I don't know. Heal, maybe? Think? Something. You just need need time without worry and stress. I can give that to you. I can't solve this for you, but I can give you that. So, either decide to take that time or decide to abandon everything and move on.

1

I wish I knew...

If you can't tell, I write a lot when working out the current crazy living in my head. Saves on the therapy bills (sometimes).

the ritual

the ritual
wake up
stretch
resist the snooze button
pee
disrobe
turn on the water
wash hair, face, body
rinse
towel dry curls
robe
drop laundry in basket
brush teeth
inspect face
pluck stray eyebrows
begin make-up application
base, powder, eyes, cheeks, brows, lashes, lips
arrange hair and dry
stretch control top pantyhose up left leg, right leg, torso.
does it roll down?
skip breakfast
get dressed
pencil skirt, blouse, thin belt, three inch heels
earrings, necklace, rings, brooch
check nail polish for chips
twirl in front of full length mirror
grab purse
go meet day

This piece was for a theatre piece I was involved in about feminism. This draft is the first one before adding any actors. The alternate ending was "grab axe/destroy the patriarchy".