transcripts

Transcripts of the voice-over. (more coming soon)

(I'm afraid to waste time. Afraid to leave my pen uncapped. I don't want it to dry out. But it didn't even come with a cap. It's not that kind of a pen. Maybe I need a new planner -- to organize my time. Mostly I just feel anxious. That I'll never do anything with my life. Never reach my potential. Meanwhile, everybody else seems to be reaching theirs. Look at them! I don't even have the nerve to wiggle. Where do you start? Where'd I get the idea that a haircut would make me feel more alive? It's an inside job. But how am I supposed to get in there? Better live to 150. No pesticides. What do we need -- oh no! And I promised to be on time. I'm gonna be late again!)

(Hey I didn't realize I'd have to actually talk with the farmers. Not that good with the small talk. Course the farmers are mostly guys -- which makes it awkward. Feel like I'm walking around naked. I don't want to be rude... Could pretend I'm deaf -- or that I don't speak English. Where'd I ever get the idea that I'm actually Wonder Woman? Maybe if I just keep my eyes on the vegetables. Otherwise it's just...too intimate -- I'm completely threatened. Other women must feel it? So how are they so relaxed? They don't seem to be pretending... Her I thought getting married would protect me from all this. Wait. Am I CAUSING the problem? They're not looking especially at me -- but maybe I'm the only one looking at them! No. I don't buy that. That's like blaming a rape victim. Maybe I should start wearing black underwear. S'posed to protect those chakras. Can't stand to feel like a little deer alone in the forest. Oh no. That's it! Now I'm late.)

Will I ever stop trying to live on the edge? I'm in a Grand Prix car race all day every day. Right in my body. The caffeine doesn't help matters. (Think I'm addicted to the adrenaline rush--) Makes me feel important. And I use the kids schedule to justify it. The thing is, I'm rushing away from myself!

I am sorry. But not sorry enough to change. The thought of having to hold still, to wait. I can't be alone with myself-- forget it! I'd rather live on the verge of a panic attack than stick one toe in the emptiness.

I'm not even gonna think about scones -- or I'll never zip my jeans again. Better stick to this frantic search for the perfect tomato. Keeps me on the straight and narrow: anxious and TENSE. The way I like it.

Yikes I've NEVER been this late to pick up the kids. That principal could have police waiting to ambush me-- to haul me off in handcuffs.

Well I'll just run like there's a pack of wolves behind me. Maybe I can beat the clock. Oh my gosh, is that Calka? Haven't seen him since art school.

He never did like me. And he-- HATED my work.

He really does. He looks 10 years younger.

WHAT. Oh. You can say that cause you;re a real artist.

You tell the truth! And because I'm a little housewife with a manicure-- I don't dare to look at my watch, but I can't just stand here. If I were a real artist, PUNCH him in the face!

Is this proof that I AM a superficial person? Why I never want to read books about the Holocaust?

Are you KIDDING? I'm a mother! I live like an indentured servant.

Right. Germany. Actually I may be spending the night in prison! Meanwhile, the caffeine's wearing off. And now I'm even later. Noooo.

Okay so I've never been this late to pick up the kids. UNLESS...WAIT...The afterschool program... It starts today...I think I'm actually right on time. (laugh) I really do live in my own parallel universe.

Maybe I should lose this hat. I'm cooking my brain. Or am I dehydrated from the caffeine?

That's interesting. When did I stop dressing like an artist?... Was she wearing a SKIRT with those- - Whoa. Better watch where I'm going. I like strappy... And SHE'S very grounded. Confident. I'd love to have that confidence.

Where is everybody? It seems oddly quiet. Oh no. The afterschool program. I bet it starts next week. The door is LOCKED? I 'm gonna give this principal a PIECE of my mind!

AHHH! Scary person! I'm not saying one word.

Okay. I'm obviously in the wrong-- but she's acting like I'm an unfit mother!

Where does this woman get off! I don't like her attitude.

I'm sick of getting no respect. --From ANYBODY. So tired of playing dollhouse and-- and Ninja Turtles in the dollhouse. I've HAD IT!!! I can't breathe. Just cause I don't have a big job! Or any power AT ALL. It's FU*%ed UP-- Motherhood, apparently, breaks down every last shred of ego. Til you become a shell...filled with self-doubt... invisible! WIth no way out. Not even an emergency exit.

And what's a thousand times worse -- compared with most womens' situations-- mine probably looks downright rosy.