Wow. I think I have said it before, but I feel the need to say it again. I have the world’s greatest collection of friends. Truly wonderful people. I am no longer allowed to complain that nobody loves me. Because a lot of people do.

I’ve been listening to the ten little songs I recorded on Friday almost obsessively. The weird part is that I don’t mind listening to them. I don’t cringe at the sound of my own voice. I kind of like them. I have harmony tracks figured out in my head for three of the songs. I think I want to find someone who is really good on the harmonica for a couple of them. And I’d still like to find a cellist for one or two. And I should talk to a percussionist at some point. But even as little songs that just consist of me and a guitar, they sound pretty good. Not perfect, but pretty good. So thank you to Chris Gorcek for helping me out with that on Friday. Chances are good I’ll be working with him again.

And another great party on Friday night. Man, those boys can spin. And just like last year, I was overwhelmed by the number of people who will come out to celebrate my birthday. Me. The kid who could barely get eight friends to come to a graduation party. The place was full. The bartender was busy most of the night. Connections were made between people who had never met before. Old friendships were revisited. I think it is safe to say that fun was had by all. Not by most, but by all. It’s not often that one can say that, but in this case, I think it was true. People kept telling me that I throw the best parties and I had to keep telling them that I had nothing to do with the organization of this one. So thank you to the organizers. And thank you to the people who keep thanking me for being born so we have an excuse to party like that. My pleasure.

And now I actually have to do work. Can you believe it? Pretty soon, I won’t have any free time at work to blog. But by then, I’ll have a cute little laptop, so I can blog from home. I’ll have to change the title, then, ‘cuz I will no longer be a very bored girl at work. I’ll come up with something. And now my favorite one of my songs is coming on so I’m gonna go. “Starting over in a new town…”

It really is just another day today. I feel like I should reflect on the past year and see what I learned and stuff, but at the same time, I don’t feel like doing that today. I have things to do. Mundane tasks to accomplish. For years, I have wanted this day to just be another day and for once, it is. That makes me really happy.

I was thinking about it from another perspective, though, and something occurred to me. This day probably means something to other people, too. They might want to celebrate it even if I don’t. Specifically, my parents. This was the first day that they had a daughter. Granted, they were parents already, but every child is special, right? I know my mom likes to celebrate today and I thank her for that. Man, I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes thinking about how much my mom loves me that she wants to celebrate the day I came into her life. Thank you, Mom. I love you, too.

So here we sit on just another summer day, the day that marks the projected end of my “Vegan for One Year” experiment (an experiment whose deadline has been extended indefinitely), and all I really have to say is that I am very lucky. I have wonderful friends and a wonderful family. I am doing okay financially. I am healthy. I am happy. I am looking forward to going into a recording studio tomorrow. I am in a really fun show with a great cast. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel like reflecting upon the last year – it has been a really good one for me. Which is exactly what I wanted it to be. So I think I will just spend today enjoying that. Enjoying today.

And tomorrow, I’ll party like crazy.

I had a dance last night that most people only dream about having someday. Total connection though the whole song. Even when we weren’t in contact with one another, I could feel where he was. And we played off of one another and came up with all of these wonderful moves that can probably never happen again. There was laughter. Even our mistakes turned into cool things. I felt like I was part of one of those couples on the floor that other people can’t help but watch because they are having such an amazing dance, but I was unaware of anyone actually watching us. Meaning I wasn’t self-conscious. It was an amazing dance. One of the best I have ever had. And I want to thank my partner in that dance. I needed that. He’s one of those guys who I will usually dance two or three in a row with because we dance well together and one is usually not enough. But after that dance last night, it’s like we both knew that there was no way we could top that so we should just leave the floor and enjoy the buzz. And somehow saying, “Thank you” to him wasn’t enough. It was incredible.

Which, of course, got me thinking. I had been feeling a little down earlier in the evening because I really am a nobody in the national swing dance scene. Ask any of the top instructors who I am and you’ll get a blank stare. Ask most of the top social dancers who I am and they’ll ask, “Who?” I am only really known in Chicago. Which is okay, but disappointing sometimes, like when I travel to other states and have to prove to all of the top social dancers in the room that I am worth dancing with. I’d like to go to an event and not have to deal with the, “Don’t you know who I am? Why on earth are you asking me to dance?” attitude. Which yes, there are dancers out there with that attitude and it bugs me. Because I have danced with some of them and in my humble opinion, they don’t deserve to have that attitude. But anyway. I was feeling kind of down about my status as a nobody until I had this amazing dance. And I realized that I am a somebody within the Chicago swing scene. The man I was dancing with is considered by many to be the best lead in Chicago. He has been dancing and teaching for years and years and years. And when I said to him, “I need a good dance. Will you dance with me?” he replied, “I need one, too,” and put his arm around my waist and led me out onto the floor.

I know, I shouldn’t need validation like this. But an ego boost every now and again is nice. To know that the best lead in Chicago will come to dance with me when he is looking for a good dance is a great feeling. To know that I can deliver such a dance is an even better feeling. So thank you.

Have you ever had one of those days where your head isn’t really attached to your body? Your mind is racing at a million miles per hour from one subject to the next, though none of the subjects may be of the utmost importance, while your body is just kind of going through the motions of having a normal day? Yeah, that’s kind of how my morning started out. I probably shouldn’t drive when I’m like that. But is that a legitimate excuse to not be at work? “Sorry, I can’t come in today. My brain is hovering about three feet above my head and until it rejoins my body, I don’t feel safe going out in public and operating heavy machinery.” I bet that’s one they’ve never heard before.

I felt like a little kid yesterday. After work and an infuriating phone call with a shipping company with whom I have had problems in the past (the color of their trucks is a big part of their advertising campaign, but the one parallel they never draw is that their trucks are the same color as shit, which is the approximate quality of service you get from them), I walked to my local record store and picked up Liz Phair’s new album and Sea Change by Beck. The instant I was out the door, I was peeling off the outer wrappers and stickers. I had the liner notes for Liz’s disc in my hand before I even walked in the door of my apartment. I popped the disc into my player and stretched out on my bed to just listen to her album -- I don't think I have ever done that before. I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to hear it as an album and really listen to what she was saying. I read the lyrics along with each song to make sure I wouldn’t miss anything. And I think it is safe to say that I approve of her new album.

She has said that this album is more her than any of her previous ones and you can see that. It is a lot more personal. There are two songs on there that really spoke to me – “Little Digger” and “Friend of Mine.” They almost brought me to tears. The thing that I have always loved about her music is the honesty in her lyrics. They are straightforward and they are true to the way that people actually talk. Some critics are lambasting her for toning down her lyrics for this album, but I don’t really see that. There aren’t as many swears and stuff (though they are present and the song “H.W.C.” is one that I can’t play at work), but the honesty of what she is saying still rings true. The description of her son in “Little Digger” is heartbreaking. You can picture this kid confused by the fact that his mommy is with someone other than his daddy. And you’d just have to hear “Friend of Mine” to understand why it speaks to me, but it does. And then she has her fun, hit-‘em-hard songs like “Extraordinary” and “Rock Me” that are in the same vein as “Supernova” from Whip-Smart. Some critics are saying that this album is too “produced” to be a Liz Phair album. I say, “So what? If you had access to that kind of production equipment, you’d use it, too.” Being a musician is about trying things you haven’t tried before. On this disc, Liz Phair sings more than she did before, as in her voice is more melodic. She uses sounds and rhythms that she hasn’t used before. Her lyrics are still honest and true, she just has some different subject matter to talk about. And I like that. It shows that she as a person has grown. Sure, there are a couple of songs that I’m not crazy about (it will take me a while to like “Favorite” and “Take a Look” I’m sure), but that’s true of all of her discs. But all in all, I would say that she should be proud of this disc. I’m glad I own it.

Now I gotta give Sea Change a good, honest listen.

I love baseball. I honestly and truly do. Baseball is a wonderful sport. There is very little more satisfying than the crack of the bat, followed by forty thousand people rising to their feet in anticipation of the ball flying out of the park and erupting in cheers and hoots and hollers when it does. Or the joys of laughing at the other team’s starting pitcher when he is pulled in the first inning because he gave up back to back home runs. Or the thrill of watching your own pitcher hit a homer. The frickin’ pitcher. I used to love baseball as a child – keeping a scorecard, drinking Pepsi and eating hot dogs. Now I eat peanuts and drink beer, but the game itself has not changed. It is fun. Pure unadulterated fun. And it probably helps that I get to go to the greatest ballpark in the world (Wrigley Field, thank you very much) when I go to see a baseball game. I can’t even describe it; you’ll just have to trust me when I say there is something magical about Wrigley Field in the summer. It just makes you feel good. So thank you to my friend who had an extra (free) ticket last night for calling me and letting me go to a baseball game. I love baseball.

So I was reading some interviews with Liz Phair yesterday in anticipation of her new album (which comes out today, by the way, and is already being slammed because it is “too poppy” and “not edgy enough” and crap like that. You know what? Let her make the music that she wants to make. Artists are allowed to grow and change and whatnot. She has been through a lot in the ten years since her first album was released – is it really that much of a surprise that her musical style has changed? Can we please just listen to this record by itself and enjoy it as a record instead of saying, “Well, it’s no Guyville, so it’s not worth anything.” She herself has said that this album is more “her” than any of her others. That in and of itself means it is worthy of a listen in my book. Okay, rant over) and in one of these interviews, she asserted that Chicago is a hard city for artists to live in. She doesn’t feel that Chicago is nurturing to the artistic spirit. I can see where she is coming from with that statement, but I think a lot of it has to do with the artist in question, too.

There is a certain newspaper in Chicago that is considered the “cool” newspaper. All the good concerts, movies, shows, etc. are listed in there and the articles are about more interesting, local topics. For example, you’ll hardly find mention of Osama bin Laden in said newspaper unless some theater company is spoofing him. This newspaper is a great resource. Admittedly, the critics who write for this newspaper are really harsh. They don’t like anything. Often times, they seem to get their jollies out of writing bad reviews more than they do out of giving the underdog a shot. I have been in a couple of plays that were slammed by said newspaper (perhaps rightfully so), so I can see how it might be discouraging for an artist to live in a town where the “hip” newspaper keeps slamming one’s art. Which, when Liz Phair’s first album came out, they did.

And before I go on, I want to say that I am not slamming Liz Phair, nor am I passing judgment on her character. Her feelings about Chicago are hers and therefore true and valid. My feelings are a little different, possibly because I have not been thrust into the spotlight to be crucified as she was. Regardless, I love her music and I look forward to buying her album after work today. I just have a slightly different opinion of Chicago.

I think there is a certain strength that artists need to possess before they share their art with the world. I’m not saying that artists without this strength produce art that isn’t worth sharing. I think all art is worth sharing. But part of that sharing process means opening oneself up to rejection and it takes a certain level of strength or even just an “I don’t care what you think” attitude to be able to handle that rejection. To be prepared for it. For example, when I first started going to auditions back in college, I was devastated every time I didn’t make the callback list. Devastated. I would cry and eat myself silly. I took it very personally, like I had no talent or the director didn’t like me or I screwed up my monologue or whatever. But after a while, I came to realize that a lot more goes into it than that. Maybe I don’t look right for the part. Maybe my schedule is too crazy. And these little rejections started just bouncing off. If I didn’t get a part, oh well. I’d get a different one later on. Yes, I still get nervous about auditions, particularly if they are for shows that I really want to be a part of. But I have developed a thick enough skin to be able to move past the rejections and the bad reviews.

And now is the part where I bring it all together.

I don’t think Chicago is a non-supportive city for artists. There are a million opportunities here for artists, from storefront theaters to recording studios to galleries to dance studios and so on and so on. That is one of the things I love most about Chicago – its variety. And as a result of so much variety, there are critics out there (or out here) who think they know everything about everything and they will state their opinions as loudly as they can. Doesn’t mean they are right. Maybe he or she had a bad day. Maybe he or she only listened to one or two songs on a disc before writing the review in order to meet a deadline. Maybe he or she ate some bad fish before going to the performance and spent the second act in the bathroom. There are a million reasons why a critic might write a not-so-favorable review besides the fact that the piece of art was really horrible. And a lot of people don’t pay attention to the critics anyway. I will bet you a dollar that Liz Phair packs the Metro for both of her shows here in Chicago because the fans love her. Who cares what the critics say? They are the minority. There is a lot of art out there worth enjoying that doesn’t appeal to segments of the population. If one really wants to be an artist, one should listen to the criticisms, but not let them scare one away from producing one’s art. If that makes any sense. I think I’m just rambling now.

My basic point is that I think Chicago is a great place for an artist to live. Maybe not the best in the world, but still a great place to live. And as an artist, I have no intentions to leave any time soon.

I met my honorary nephew yesterday. He is so tiny! But he is beautiful. I can’t believe he is a fully functional being, you know? How can someone with fingers so small be alive and learning and growing? He spent most of the afternoon sleeping – what does he dream about?

I got to talk to his mom a little bit, too. Motherhood is good for her. She looks so natural with her son and you can already see that she loves him more than anything. There were a couple of little mother/son moments that brought a tear to my eye they were so beautiful. But anyway, in talking to her, I had one of two “I’m not normal” moments from this weekend.

One would think that a cute, single, twenty-something female would enjoy going out to bars and drinking with friends and being silly and whatnot, wouldn’t one? Well, if one was talking about an average cute, single, twenty-something female, one would probably be right. But I’m not exactly average, am I? I think it has been demonstrated several times that I’m a little bit off. Not necessarily in a bad way, I’m just not typical. Which is fine with me. But it means that I am not always satisfied with going out to bars and sitting and drinking. I love it that when I go out, there is dancing involved or things for people to do other than sit and drink. Not that talking to one another is bad; it is, in fact, a good thing. But I like my social evenings to be spent doing things. Preferably things that don’t involve putting thongs on the heads of strange men. I don’t know if I am past that stage in my life where that is fun, or if I just never had that phase. I’m guessing I never had it. I don’t get the bar scene. I don’t understand the joys of going out every weekend and making an ass out of oneself. Once in a while, sure. But every weekend? No thanks. I’ll stick with my dancing and theatrical productions for now, thank you very much. Hooray for being a mutant.

There are those who say that time is an illusion. That everything in the history, present, and future of the world is happening simultaneously and it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Which, if you think about it, makes sense in a really weird way. Clocks and watches and schedules are all man-made things. Yes, the sun rises and sets every day, but we are the ones who had to split those days into hours, minutes, and seconds. And it would explain all of those déjà vu type incidents – things seem familiar because everything is happening all at once. But the one thing it doesn’t account for is the fact that certain days last forever while others fly by. Like today for instance. It is only ten thirty in the morning and I’m ready to go home. Not from my usual work-related boredom, I just feel like I have been here long enough today. But it is only ten thirty. How is that possible? Yesterday at this time, it was three in the afternoon. I don’t get it.

So hey, Universe? If all of time really is happening in an instant, could we please just make it be three thirty or so? That’d be great. Thanks.

I need to learn to stop drinking vodka on school nights.

Another Fucknut dream last night. I need to stop having those.

I don't know why I continue to dream about him. I know that nothing between he and I would ever work. I also know that it is not only possible but quite likely that I will never see him again as long as I live and that that is probably a good thing. But I have these dreams wherein he is everything I always wished he could have been, but he is still himself, too, if that makes any sense. He is as I knew him, but he wants me. And in these dreams, I feel happy and safe and comfortable and excited and alive. Like everything is as it should be. And then I wake up alone. With Fucknut 3,000 miles away. And no other person in my daily life who arouses those feelings within me. I know I am tough and strong and independent and I love my life and I love being single. But it is draining to feel so good at night only to wake up to reality. Literally. And to be reminded of what I don't have that I wish I could find again. So I force myself to remember the un-returned phone calls and the other people he dated without telling me and the lies and excuses and bullshit so maybe I won't feel so empty, but it is a poor substitute for the highs I feel in my dreams.

So I apologize if I'm a little slow or out of it today. I wish I was still sleeping.

So I actually have something important to say today. Important and kind of heavy handed and opinionated and it will dig me further into the hole of hippiedom in which I now find myself, but this is something that I believe in and I feel the need to say my piece about, so seeing as this is my blog to do with as I see fit, I am going to talk about it.

Apparently Roe is changing her mind about abortions and they are thinking once again about making abortion illegal in the United States. I think that this is a horrible idea. Now that I have said that, let me say a few more things and maybe you will understand my point of view.

I do believe that life begins at conception. Two living cells coming together to produce more living cells constitutes life in the same way that single-celled organisms are alive. They are alive and anything done to stop that life is killing. That’s it. And yes, it makes me really sad that some women use abortion as a form of birth control because it is not the fault of the child that the parents were careless. I have friends who were adopted and I thank their birth mothers for not aborting because my friends are truly beautiful people.

However, there is always an exception. The twelve year old who is raped by her father or uncle and becomes pregnant. The child with spina bifida who will either be still born or will live in agony for three days before it dies. There is always at least one case wherein abortion is the merciful choice. I’m not saying it is a good choice and it is not an easy choice to make. But there will always be at least on case wherein it is the lesser of many evils. And for that reason, I think it should be legal in the United States. I would hate to see that twelve year old subjected to either a back alley abortion which could kill her or to see her carry the child to term only to die during childbirth, leaving the baby in the care of an abusive grandfather. I would hate to have to see a mother carry a child to term, knowing it will not live more than a day or so and then watch her agony as the child dies in her arms.

I know it is never right to take another life and I know that it is never completely justifiable. But I also know that sometimes choices have to be made and I would prefer that the option of a safe termination be available to those women who really need it than to subject those women and the children they carry to further suffering.

I know, I sound horrible. I wish that I could support a blanket statement that says [fill in the blank] is always wrong. But I can’t. I know that there are exceptions to every rule. I think a lot of these things should have stipulations associated with them (as in one must go through a certain amount of counseling before one can get an abortion), but I can’t say that they are always wrong and bad in every instance. Some really potent drugs (marijuana, morphine) bring peace to a lot of people in a lot of pain. There is always an exception. I wish I could say to the world what my mom said to my brother and I and just leave it at that. “I know you are going to experiment with this, just please be careful when you do it.” Don’t abuse drugs. Think long and hard before terminating a pregnancy and/or take precautions to not get pregnant in the first place. But please keep these options open for the people who really really need them. Because you know they are going to go for them anyway and wouldn’t it be much better to know that they were doing so safely?

Thank you for reading this. It's important to me.

Another "I lead a strange life" moment:

I was on TV this morning. How many people (who aren't regular television personalities) can say that? I woke up at what I believe is called the ass-crack of dawn to go be on television before coming in to work today. It was fun. I made my dance partner laugh. And apparently my dad and stepmother were watching, so that's kind of cool, too. It's just kind of funny that I can say, "Oh, I had to do a television spot before work this morning," and not be lying about it. One day, I won't have to go to work after the television spot because the television spot will be my job. It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.

I would also like to take a moment today to thank a friend of mine. This is the friend who heard Allowed first and came back to me two days later with the name of a friend with a recording studio, telling me that it was a really good song and I should do something with it. Up until that moment, I didn’t think I would ever really get to play my songs for anyone anymore. And I also thought that my songs would only really appeal to women, if they were ever heard by anyone. I certainly wouldn’t have thought that this guy in particular would like to listen to one girl with a guitar singing sad love songs. But he did. And the fact that he did made me reconsider the power of my music. It is kind of overwhelming and really flattering, and I think at least to some extent, it has changed the way I compose music. I’m not exactly sure how, but I know that the stuff I have written since then has been different than the stuff before I wrote Allowed.

So anyway, I was at a party over the weekend and this friend of mine was there. I played Hamburg for him and he said, “Allowed is a good song, but this is, like, five times better.” And I played a bunch more stuff for him (‘cuz I had a couple of drinks in my system and he seemed content to just sit and listen), including one that I wrote in college that I think he is the second person to ever hear. It is a hard song for me to play for people because it is very personal. But I played it and he cried. Well, sniffled. I felt justified, somehow. And I want to thank him for that. I can’t believe that my music can touch people like that, but it does and that means so much to me, I can’t even tell you. So I am looking forward to recording my stuff in a couple of weeks so then even more people can hear it and I can touch more lives. I can think of very little that is more gratifying than inspiring other people. And I want to thank my friend for letting me know that I have that ability because that, in turn, has inspired me to create more. So thanks.

Have I mentioned lately that I hate auditioning and I can’t wait for the day when people call me up to do roles and I don’t have to do a monologue ever again? Consider it mentioned.

I spent all day Saturday auditioning. I hate auditioning. I like my monologues, but I hate having to do them. And I’m pretty sure I won’t get any of the roles I auditioned for because of my schedule right now, but I went and auditioned anyway. Keep my auditioning skills sharp, I guess. I’m auditioning for Much Ado About Nothing on Thursday and I know I’m not going to get it because of my schedule, but I am going to go audition anyway. Why do I do this to myself? To get my name and my face out there, I guess. But the stage fright that I get right before an audition is worse than the stage fright I get before I sing in front of people. Seriously. I get short of breath and shaky and my mouth dries out. It’s horrible. And yet I do it on a fairly regular basis. Here’s hoping it starts to pay off one day.

The thing about dating is this. I want to date someone who knocks my socks off. At this point in my life, I don’t know anyone who really knocks my socks off. Okay, maybe I do, but both of them are completely inaccessible for different reasons, so it’s a moot issue. Nobody who I interact with on a fairly regular basis just blows me away, so I don’t really want to spend the time and energy dating them only to have it end badly when one or the other of us decides that we’re not in love when I could skip all of that and just be good friends with people. Does that make sense? I’ll admit that I have been looking around a lot lately and noticing a lot of physically attractive men, but I know that my feelings for those guys would be rooted in purely physical desired and I know that they are not looking at me like that, so for now, I’m just going to have to start carrying Kleenex with me everywhere to mop up the drool. But the person I really want to date is the guy who I see somewhere and instantly know I have to meet him. And I just haven’t found that guy. Well, not since Fucknut, anyway. And not one who was available. I dunno. Am I asking too much? Is it wrong that I’m not all gung ho about dating really nice people who I feel largely ambivalent about? Is it wrong that I occasionally get drunk and make out with someone who I feel largely ambivalent about? Probably, huh? I should probably work on that. And I should probably take down my online profile. Because in all honesty, there isn’t anyone on there who really blows me away and I am starting to feel for these guys who contact me and I never respond to. To all of you guys out there who have written me and I haven’t responded, thank you and I’m sorry. I’m sure you are wonderful people. I’m just really not looking right now.

I don’t want to be here today. That’s all there really is to it. I don’t want to be in an office wearing nice pants sitting at a computer answering the phone. This is not my life!

I went to see Beck last night, with Black Keys (I thought their name was 88 Keys – my bad) and Dashboard Confessional. The Black Keys were pretty good. Good bluesy type music. You could tell that they haven’t played in front of big audiences much before, but that’s cool. It was good music. Just a guitar and drums, but it sounded really full, if that makes any sense. I hope these guys do well in the future. Dashboard Confessional…well, the lead singer is nice eye candy and the drummer looked like he would be a cool person to hang out with. But I don’t have that whole “teen angst” thing going for me anymore, so I had some trouble connecting to the songs. And it occurred to me last night just how funny it is to have an entire crowd of people singing along to a rock star’s song. I don’t know why it stuck me as funny, it just did. Maybe because I was feeling old to begin with and it just reinforced the fact that I’m not all about angst anymore or something. But for some reason, this music really spoke to a lot of the kids at the concert. Hey, whatever makes them happy.

Beck was amazing. Almost as good as a Moby show. He covers so many genres in his music. And there aren’t many musicians out there who can do a live performance that includes songs done solo (with only a guitar, harmonica, and blue backlighting), songs that have the audience jumping up and down, and a second encore that involves a white suit with tubing on it that glows under a black light. This man’s range is incredible. And he’s so cute. You could see him having those moments of “Oops, I’m taking myself too seriously here” on stage. He’d be rockin’ out and then he’d laugh at himself really quick and get right back to the song. It was great. If you have the means, I highly recommend checking out a Beck show. You will not be disappointed.

So then I overslept this morning. The one morning a week when I have an 8:00 meeting. I just barely made it here in time. And of course, my brain hadn’t quite woken up yet when I got to the meeting so I sat there feeling really ineffectual, wondering if the mascara I applied at a stoplight in my car was running down my face and that’s why people were looking at me funny. I don’t know what I’m doing in those meetings. I seriously don’t. I’m not a business-minded person, particularly when it comes to the medical industry. I’d like to see everything switched over to a system like they have in Canada where the government pays for all of it. Sure, people pay higher taxes or whatever, but they can walk into any hospital, be treated in a timely fashion, and leave without so much as a $10 co-pay. All of the American billing issues and malpractice issues and insurance issues make it really hard for doctors to treat patients. Isn’t the whole point of the Hippocratic Oath that doctors are supposed to do everything that they can to help people in need without causing further trauma? So why is there so much red tape involved in the American health care system? I don’t get it. And it made for a very uncomfortable meeting for me this morning.

I am feeling the need to be creative. I’m going to record a demo CD. I have five auditions coming up. I’m tired of coming into an office every morning between 7:30 and 8:00. I want to experience dendritic growth, be it stimulated by music or drama or dance or law school. I need some sort of outside stimulus right now. Or a Moby concert. A Moby concert would make me insanely happy, too.

I dunno. I’m complaining about all of this stuff that will, tomorrow, seem trivial. I just know that I don’t want to be here today. I want to go live my life, damnit, not this pseudo life that I have put in place for the time being.

Please pardon the fact that my brain just threw up on this blog. I'm sorry about that. Hopefully it's out of my system and I'll be nice and caustic tomorrow.

I’m tired today. Almost painfully so. And I’m not exactly sure why because I did go to bed at a relatively decent hour last night. I hear somewhere once, though, that the optimum amount of sleep for a human being at a stretch is four hours and that after four hours of sleep, the sleep cycle kind of starts over. So if, for instance, one sleeps for five hours, one will feel as if one only slept for one. I don’t know if that is true or not, but it certainly would explain all of the yawning I am doing today.

And tonight I’m going to see Beck. That should be fun. I don’t know a lot of his music, but what I have heard, I like. And from the interviews I have read with him and stuff, he seems like the sort of artist I would like to support. You know, like he’s a cool person. I hope I can stay awake for it, though. I’m sleepy. And I’d like to be awake for the opening bands, too. 88 Keys and Dashboard Confessional. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a rock concert. I’m looking forward to this.

I'm pretty sure I was a bee in a past life. I can't stop smelling the flowers. There are so many of them! They're everywhere and they smell so good! How can people walk past a rose bush and not stop to enjoy the fragrance? It's like perfume without the alcohol. And you get to carry that scent with you for the rest of the day, yet so many people just let these opportunities pass them by. I know people are looking at me funny when I stop to smell the flowers, but I can't help it. I want to smell all of them. Those flowers evolved to have those colors and those scents so that they would be attractive to bugs. The flowers want to be smelled. I'm just doing my part as a former bee. Is that really so odd?

I also just want to say real quick that I really admire my friend who lives in Switzerland. I admire the fact that he can pick up and move and start somewhere new. I find myself tied to Chicago for various reasons, some financial, some emotional, and I wonder what it would take to get me to leave. It’s not that I’m afraid to go somewhere else – I love to travel and I would love to live somewhere else for a while. I guess it is a matter of un-tethering myself. I’d have to get rid of my car and get out of my lease. I’d have to find a home for Owen. I would have to save enough money to live on until I would be able to find work and make more money. I would have to find new doctors and banks and grocery stores. I am such a creature of habit that as much as I might like to pick up and go somewhere else, without a really compelling reason to do so, I am perfectly happy to keep my main residence in Chicago. I love it here. But I do admire my friend who can move so easily. In some ways, it must be really nice to be un-tethered.

Though in other ways, I wonder if it gets lonely.

I wrote a new song last night. At about midnight. I’m sure my neighbors love me. But I couldn’t help it. When the creative juices start flowing, you just have to go with them. And I kind of like this song. It is kind of self-indulgent, but it’s really fun to sing. It is the kind of song you sing to a friend in pain. I like it that I now have one of those. The strange thing about it, though, is that I came up with the chord progression about a week ago and at the time, I thought it was going to be an angry chick song. Yet another one inspired in part by Fucknut. There were going to be lyrics along the lines of “It usually takes two songs to get over it/This is number 84 and you still live in my head.” Or something like that. Not that I’m all about Fucknut because I’m not. It’s just good to draw on experiences with him for my songs because I think we covered just about every emotion known to man. But instead of that song, it turned into this sweet little song that you sing to a friend in pain. I think I’ll call it “Hamburg.” Or if not that, then “Comfort.” But I like “Hamburg” because it goes back to my old tradition of naming songs based on what inspired them, not the lyrics that are actually in the song. So hopefully you all will get to hear it at some point in the future.

I’m going to do it today. I am going to call my friend who said he would help me record a demo. I am going to talk to him about it and ask questions and see what’s what. Even if I could just lay down skeleton tracks so I can figure out what I want to do with them. “Hamburg” has some nice spaces for cool things to happen. Anyway. Here’s me talking like I’m a musician again. I should get back to work.

So I watched the Cubs/Yankees game on Saturday and I have only one thing to say about it. That game is the epitome of what baseball is supposed to be. If you want to go back through the annals of baseball history to find a really good game, you need look no further than the Cubs/Yankees game on Saturday. It was great. And it was that much more fun because the Cubbies won. Yay Cubbies!

The one bad thing about it, though, was it was broadcast on a station that obviously has no idea what the seventh inning stretch is or how important it is because they went to commercial before anyone could get out so much as "A-one, a-two, a-three." Stupidfey TV station.

If I could very selfishly fix just one environmental problem, I would fix the hole in the ozone layer. I would love to be able to go outside and enjoy the bright summer days (and bright winter days, too, for that matter) without worrying about getting sun burnt. I would love to be able to go out and play baseball or fall asleep in the grass or go to an outdoor music festival without bathing in sunscreen. Because sunshine feels good. And there are times when I really wish I could enjoy it without worry.

Though some other fringe benefits that would accompany fixing the ozone layer would be nice, too. Like slowing or halting the whole global warming thing.

I used to fantasize when I was younger about becoming a chemist and working in a laboratory, producing ozone and a special kind of container that would open at a certain altitude. I would sit in my lab, make some ozone, put it in one of these special containers, attach the container to a weather balloon, and release it into the sky. When the balloon was high enough (up where the rest of the ozone hangs out), the container would open, releasing my laboratory produced ozone into the wild to be assimilated into the earth’s protective layer, thus fixing the hole. Then the balloon would deflate, allowing the container to return safely to earth (it would have a parachute mechanism on it so it wouldn’t come plummeting back down to earth, killing birds and stuff on the way), where I could refill it and do the whole thing over again until the ozone layer would be as good as new. Ah, the dreams of youth.

I have to do something really distasteful. I know that it is distasteful and I am apologizing for that in advance, but it is something that must be done. I have to brag. I have to toot my own horn. I know, I know, nobody out there likes to listen to someone tooting their own horn. But in this case, if you would please bear with me, my three faithful readers, I think you will agree with me that in this case, it has to be done.

I picked up my copy of Mix Tape last night. The film that I shot in October of 2000. I finally got to see it for the first (and second) time last night. And I must say, I rock. I play Zoe Siddel, my ex-boyfriend’s name is Dean. The guy who played Dean is now dating the woman who played the woman who works at the coffee shop (I can’t remember her character’s name right now, but I know the actress is named Heather). And I have to say that Dean, Heather and I are the three best things about the film. The woman who played Ramona is pretty good, too. So of course, the four of us are in it the least. Oh well. But we did some damn good work. The story line with Zoe and Dean is the most interesting one in the film and the most dynamic as well. And the funny thing for me was that I didn’t cringe while I was watching it. I guess I am far enough removed from the whole process that it is a novelty to watch it – I am able to differentiate between myself and Zoe. Which is good. Because I have a feeling I am going to see this film a million more times as I show it to all of my friends. I’m proud of this one. It turned out pretty well. So thank you to the director, Jefferson Root, for giving me the opportunity to be in his film. And thank you to the rest of the crew for making it all pretty. And thank you to the rest of the cast (at least the ones I had scenes with) for making my job easy. And if you are in the area and are interested in seeing Mix Tape, let me know. We’ll work something out.

And thus ends this bragging session. Thank you for your patience.

Here is the first song that my Bostonian guy friend and I recorded together. The one we did last weekend. It is called Breathe You. He wrote the music and played the guitar. I wrote the lyrics and sang them. A guy named Alec was kind enough to let us use his studio and be our engineer for the recording process so I'll put a link to his band up here, too, with my most heartfelt thanks. Alec rocks. This is just a rough cut of Breathe You, but I think it's kind of pretty, so I thought I'd post it. Enjoy!

Oh, and the rest of Sammy Sosa's bats came up clean. Admittedly, that makes me happy. Call me naive, but I am perfectly happy to believe that it was human error. Why? Because (contrary to popular opinion) I am human and I make mistakes.

But I called it, too. I know people who are already calculating the odds that it was simple error, based on the number of bats and the number of at-bats and so on and so forth. It's ridiculous. I know it is against the rules to use a corked bat and that people using them should be punished. Okay, suspend him for a few games and call it a day. This goes back to an e-mail someone sent me recently saying things like, "When I grew up, we didn't wear helmets when we rode our bicycles. We would go out with our friends and nobody had a cell phone. We'd be gone all day and our parents had no way to contact us. We would share a soda amongst the four of us and nobody caught any dread diseases," and so on and so forth. The point being that we are all way too paranoid now. So Sammy Sosa fucked up. He confessed, he offered an explanation, he is acting in full cooperation with the authorities; give him his punishment and let him get on with his life. I think going back and examining videotape of past games to see if he was using a corked bat is a little extreme. Even if he was, what would they do about it? Overturn the rulings in those games so that the Cubs lost? Chances are, the Cubs lost those games anyway. Just make him promise never to use a corked bat again and get back to playing baseball. I don't think new rules need to be put into effect or x-ray machines installed in dugouts to check every player's bat before he steps up to the plate or anything like that. Just go play baseball.

But that's just my opinion. And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go run down the hallway with scissors.

It is a really strange feeling to look at yourself in the mirror and think to yourself, “I think I’m getting smaller,” knowing that you have not made a concerted effort to become smaller.

I think by now we all know that I have had issues with my weight for my entire life and also that a lot of those issues went away when I started switching to veganism. Admittedly, I have been tempted recently to weigh myself for comparison sake because it was just about a year ago that I weighed myself for the last time. No, I haven’t done it, mostly out of fear that the number on the scale will once again start to rule my life. But I have been tempted. But I have started to notice, particularly when I look at myself from the side, that there doesn’t seem to be as much of me as there was at one point. And I am really pleased by this. From an aesthetic standpoint, I have a really lovely shape. And it is just kind of odd to notice things like that when you have spent your whole life looking in the mirror and going, “ugh” and walking out to face the word with an “ugh” attitude.

Along the same lines, a friend of mine made a comment to me last week that has kind of been hovering in the back of my mind ever since then. I think by this point we all also know that I have problems calling myself physically attractive, and I have even more problems believing it when other people tell me that I am. I know I was a cute baby. Then I had this awkward or ugly stage that lasted from about first grade through my second year of college. Since then, I have been on a slow and steady incline up to the point where I am now not repulsive. I’d even go so far to say as I am not too hard on the eyes. I shared this general viewpoint with a friend who I have known since I was about eight years old and he said he has to disagree with me on it. According to him, I never had an ugly phase. I had a sort of plain Jane phase, but I was never ugly. And he remarks that now, every time he sees me, he thinks to himself, “Man, she’s hot.” (And before your little minds start spinning in your ever present matchmaker ways, let me just say that this is not stuck in the back of my head because I’m thinking anything could or would happen between this friend and I. It wouldn’t. You just have to trust me on that. Neither of us thinks of the other one in those terms. I’ll admit that he is a very attractive guy. And apparently he thinks I’m hot. But he is more family than a friend, so get rid of those thoughts right now.) The reason his comment has stuck with me is because I can’t help but wonder who I would be today if I hadn’t spent so many years thinking I was ugly. The same way I wonder where my dancing or acting abilities would be today had I started when I was younger. Would I have started taking care of myself sooner? Would that, in turn, have gotten me more acting gigs, or different acting gigs? Would I be a stuck up bitch? Would I be able to maintain a healthy relationship? Who knows.

I don’t believe in regret. I like who I am today and I treasure all of my past experiences for all of the lessons they have taught me. I am proud of the woman I have become and I look forward to a long life of new challenges and learning experiences and greater growth. But sometimes I just can’t help but wonder what my life would have been like if it had been a little different. And it does make me a little bit sad to know that I spent so many years hating myself for no good reason. I hope that I can help my future daughter to not hate herself needlessly.

What would you do if some random person walking down the street stopped you, kissed you, and continued on their way? I'm not talking shoved his/her tongue down your throat. I'm talking some random person stops in front of you, places his/her hands on either side of your face, and gently kisses you on the lips. Then said person smiles, and continues walking down the street in the direction he/she was originally going. Would you be offended? Flattered? Would you continue on the way you were going or would you follow the mad kissing bandit? Would you feel like your privacy had been invaded? Would you feel the need to weep because that connection doesn't exist elsewhere in your life? It's an interesting question. If I was better prepared to be slapped or groped, I think I might have to do some research on this subject.

Sammy Sosa and the Corked Bat. The big question on everyone’s lips this morning is will this change everyone image of Sammy Sosa? I’m sorry, but I have to say yes. Even if they check all of his other bats and find none of the rest of them to be corked, there will always be skeptics out there who think he has been using corked bats all along. How else do you explain his home run numbers? Can one man really be that good?

It is a sad day for baseball when we watch one of our heroes fall like this. Fortunately for him, heroes who fall in the spotlight don’t fall as far as those who were never in the spotlight to begin with.

So I’m driving home from a wonderful night of dancing last night and I find myself becoming unspeakably sad about the things that I don’t have. Like that house. And the fact that I’m not in Switzerland right now with my friends. And enough money to make a good record. And I know I shouldn’t sweat these things. They really aren’t all that important. My apartment is really lovely and homey and very me. I have wonderful friends here in Chicago and I got to dance with three of my favorite dance partners last night and they were all really excellent dances. And I have an offer from a friend of mine to help me record even just a demo CD. And add to all of that the opportunity to go back to school and the new honorary nephew and things are looking really good for me. So why was I so sad driving home last night? It must be “that time.” To any men out there who happen to be reading this, please take a moment and thank your lucky stars that you don’t become a hormonal, emotional wreck every twenty-eight days or so.

I’m wearing these pants today that I bought about a month ago that I really enjoy wearing. Simple, black linen pants. They have a nice, straight line to them and no pleats. But in order to have them accommodate my mongongous hips, I had to buy them a little big. Which means the waist sits low on my hips. Which is fine. But it means I can’t lose any weight or I’ll have to put suspender buttons on my pants and start wearing suspenders. Yay, I’m taking a trip back to the 80’s…

Wow, big weekend. The most important thing I have to say today is that my honorary sister had her baby. A little boy named Alex Ryan. He was born at about noon on May 31st. And I can’t wait to meet him! So welcome to the world, Alex, and congratulations to Mom and Dad!

Okay, so you know I posted a little while ago about a house around the corner from me that I am absolutely in love with and wish I could buy. Well, they had an open house this weekend. So I went. I figured why the fuck not? I walk past there all of the time, I could hit it big tomorrow, and I’d need someplace to live. I love the neighborhood, I love the exterior of the house, I wanted to see the interior, too. And I am now completely in love with this house. You would not believe how beautiful it is. Hardwood floors, four bedrooms, three and a half baths, nice, open kitchen, three stories with a basement and a roof deck, all for the low, low bargain price of three-quarters of a million dollars. Yeah. Way out of my price range. But my absolute dream house. So, does anyone know how I could get about a million dollars in the next month or so?

Blacktop Fields recorded our first tune on Saturday. It’s called “Breathe You” and if I am allowed to say so, it really is a pretty little song. I did the lyrics and my Bostonian guy friend did the music and you will all be pleasantly surprised to hear that the song has a happy ending and doesn’t use the word “ass.” This will not at all influence my solo music, which will continue to be dismal and chock full of nasty words. But yeah, if we get “Breathe You” up on the net somewhere, I’ll post a link so you all can have a listen. It really is a sweet little song.