A Not-So-Simple Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

to Shannon, he squandered millions. But I think that’s an exaggeration—and probably her way of getting the spotlight off her and all the money she wasted on cocaine. For all I know, that could’ve been millions too.
    Shannon used to blame Dad for her addiction problems, and I suppose that’s partially true since he admitted to me that it was one of his music connections who originally brought cocaine into our home. But the truth of the matter is, Nick Stark has always avoided drugs, even marijuana—a habit Shannon didn’t attempt to hide from anyone. Whether it was in our backyard or the living room, my mom wasn’t afraid to just light up when the mood hit her. “It soothes myshattered nerves,” she would say to anyone who questioned her. As if her lifestyle was so very stressful.
    Of course, this aggravated my dad. His father was also a musician—and a heroin addict, who died young. I believe that put a genuine fear into Dad’s heart, because to this day he abhors all drugs. I guess my only question is, why does he knowingly allow me to remain with a woman who uses and abuses substances like cocaine and amphetamines? But I know the answer, and it’s threefold: (1) there’s a lot of denial going on, (2) my dad does not like to engage in any unnecessary conflict with Shannon, and (3) he’s just too busy.
    Even so, I wonder what Nick Stark’s fans would think if they knew his fifteen-year-old daughter is fending for herself while her mom is out on a three-day drug binge (well, three days so far). Then again, maybe no one would care. After all, this is not a new story. In some ways I can really relate to Nicole Richie. Her story is freakily similar to mine. And yet when Nicole blows it (by anorexic or drunk and disorderly or whatever…) and she makes the front page, it seems as if everyone takes potshots at her. They call her “shallow” and “spoiled” and say she has “entitlement issues.” It’s like no one remembers how she was raised, the things she’s, been through. Why doesn’t anyone care to attribute some of her problems to the fact that she grew up in a very strange family? But then again, maybe it’s really not so strange. Not by my standards anyway.
    Sometimes I wonder if the way I’m living might actually be turning into the norm in this country. Maybe it’s simply my fantasy that there are healthy, happy, well-adjusted families out there. Moms who drive kids to soccer and ballet. Dads who come home for dinner. Perhaps a dog or a cat running around. Food in the fridge. Utility bills that are paid. Am I wrong to assume that people like my cousin Kim and her dad are the norm? What if they’re the anomaly?
    Even so, more and more I find myself wanting what they have. It’s like a desperate craving, a deep, pathetic longing that will never be fulfilled. Because I can never have what Kim and her dad have—what their little family had before Kim’s mom died. It’s completely out of my reach. I’m like the poor little kid with her nose pushed against the toy store window, just wishing. Only it’s not the toys I want. The sad truth is, I’ve actually had more than my fair share of that kind of junk. When I was little, my dad used to bring home all kinds of things to make up for being gone so much. Nanny Jane was always picking things up and complaining that my room looked more like a toy store than a nursery. And later on, after the divorce, when I’d go to visit Dad, he would use the latest video games and electronic gadgets to pay me off. Only it never worked.
    I’ve had all the material things any kid could want. But that doesn’t make up for what I haven’t had, and that doesn’t make me want it less. And writing in this stupid journal onlyseems to make me feel worse! I think Kim was wrong about the therapy thing. Although writing about the earth is kind of therapeutic for me. So here goes.
    Maya’s Green Tip for the Day
    The three basic rules for green living are: reduce,