I'm also thinking about selling my video collection. Or at least the pieces of it that I could replace with DVDs. I know it makes sense to do so, partially for the whole "there's gelatin in film" thing and partially because DVDs take up way less space than my video collection does, but somehow it makes me sad to think about parting with some of these movies. Even the ones I got really cheap when I worked at a video store. They were my friends for a really long time and I will be very sad to see them go. But sometimes, you need to move on from one chapter of your life to another, right?

Last night, I was supposed to go out with a friend from high school who I haven't really talked to since maybe my second year of college. And I went. Sort of. I met up with her and some other people and it took them about two hours to get it together enough to go out, so a couple of us went ahead and said we'd meet up with them later. And it occurred to me that I really didn't want to be there. I'm not into the frat bar scene. I'm not into standing around drinking, knowing that anyone in there who happens to look at me is judging me based on the fact that I'm not dressed like all a trixie. And as much as I would like to be able to say I am still friends with this girl from high school, I don't think that is a true statement. We're just different people with different goals and that is fine. I love her still, but I couldn't subject myself to that even for her sake. I'm sorry. I've worked too hard at being comfortable and confident to thrust myself into situations like that.

I dunno. I'm just kind of out of it and sad today. I'm sorry. I'll be better in a couple of days.

It's starting to feel like fall. Today is one of those days where you just want to stay home and eat soup and cuddle up on the couch with a special someone and watch movies all day. And yes, I mean "watch movies" in the traditional sense, not the high school date with the parents upstairs sense of the phrase. So I ate pizza and watched a movie by myself this afternoon. And now I'm thinking too much.

I've got a couple of things going on right now that I'm not sure I really want to get involved in for various reasons, but none of them seems like a good enough reason to not get involved, if you know what I mean. I was offered a role in an indie film and truth be told, I'm just not getting a good vibe from the whole deal. The script is kind of fun, but it doesn't knock me on my ass. The first time I read it, it looked like it would require some gratuitous nudity on my part and while I am not opposed to nudity on film, I am opposed to gratuitous nudity. But in the more revised version I have read, it looks like most of that has been taken out and what remains could be done by hinting at nudity with camera angles, if you know what I mean. But...I dunno. I'm just not getting a good vibe from it. I haven't signed the contract yet and at this point, I'm almost thinking I should walk away before I do it. Not to mention the time issue with school starting and whatnot.

But then I start to think that it could be fun. I get to kick some ass in the script which could be really fun. I haven't gotten to do real fight scenes in film before. But then again, who knows how good they are going to be? I could come off looking like an ass. But it could be good experience.

This is where I run into problems. Is an experience worth experiencing if you know the outcome is going to be bad? Or not what you were going for? If you know that in the long run, it would probably be better to avoid a situation, but in the short term a lot of fun could come out of it, should you do it? I've always been a subscriber to the avoidance path but I think part of my yuppie crisis that I am going through right now is telling me to take a chance on any crazy thing that that falls in my lap. I should say no. I should walk away. I don't want to regret this later.

"It's been so long since you've been a friend of mine."

I find myself mesmerized and transfixed and speechless. I'll be glad when today is over.

I just saw a very lost-looking rockabilly boy walking across campus. I didn't thing rockabillys woke up before noon. Check me out, learning something new.

So thus far, I have missed out on the whole Mars sighting thing. I feel kind of bad about it, but at the same time, I don’t have a telescope and I live in a big city, and both of those things would seem to hinder my viewing abilities anyway. Maybe I’ll end up somewhere over the weekend where I can see it. It would be a shame to miss it, though it would be a good reason to live another couple hundred years…

I had to explain to my doctor today what veganism is. She squinched up her nose and asked me three times, "So you don't eat any meat?" I love my doctor -- she is absolutely adorable and she always takes the time to talk to me about whatever I want to talk about. But yeah, she was really thrown by the vegan thing. She was like, "So, what do you eat?"

But I'm all checked up on and healthy and stuff. And my arm is killing me because I got a tetanus booster. Rusty nails of the world, come and get me! I'm ready for ya! But if you could please avoid my left shoulder for now, that would be great. Thanks.

On my way in to work this morning, I thought of about sixteen things that I could talk about today and now they have all left me. See this? This is Kitty. See this? This is Kitty when she’s sleep deprived. Sadly, keyboards do not make good pillows.

So many many people are amazed that not only do I not have air conditioning at home, but I don’t even have my window fan this summer. I have survived this summer thus far partially because it hasn’t been ungodly hot, but also almost completely unassisted when it has been hot. I don’t know how I feel about air conditioning in general, though, so I’m okay doing without it for the most part (I still have questions about the environmental effects of air conditioning even though I am assured time and time again that modern air conditioners are “safe”). Besides, my office is air conditioned and my car can be if I push the little button with the snowflake on it and the little green light comes on.

But yeah, air conditioning. I appreciate the fact that it removes humidity from the air because if there is one thing I could do with less of, it’s humidity. Well, suffering, anguish, fear, pain, and then humidity. But it’s still in the top five. Or twenty. Anyway, I’m not a big fan of humidity so it’s nice that air conditioning cuts that. The thing that irritates me is that often times the air conditioner’s temperature control is set so low that I end up freezing my ass off. Summers are supposed to be about being nice and warm. Isn’t that why we all look forward to summer? So we don’t have to bundle up anymore? But I still do, any time I spend time indoors – at work, at the movies, in bars – because the air conditioning is cranked up so high my teeth are chattering. I’m sorry, but there is something wrong with wearing a heavy sweater at work in the summer and still freezing.

So in the meantime, since I can’t mandate that everyone set their air conditioning at 75 degrees Fahrenheit, I will sit in my office with the door closed, my window open, and the air conditioning off and I will sleep with no blankets and very little clothing on. A lot of people spend a lot of time trying to find a reason to get naked. “I’m hot” sounds like a pretty good one to me.

So orientation wasn't quite as groovy as I thought it was going to be. I was all geeked to go into a room full of people eager to learn and I swear, you could have heard a mouse fart in that room it was so quiet. (Dick and fart jokes. You'll never go hungry telling dick and fart jokes.) The people running orientation seemed pretty cool, so at least I respect the important people in the program, which is a good thing. I learn a lot better from people I respect.

There was all kinds of talk about finding jobs and stuff which is really useful information for most of the people in the class, but me...I have a job. They want me to acquire these skills. And I couldn't, in good conscious, complete the program and then go look for a different job. That would be very "not cool" as the kids say these days. But I think I will get a lot out of the actual classes. I'm looking forward to starting them. One more week of freedom, baby.

I went to another open mic last night and it was completely different from the one I had been going to all along. This one was more of a jam session. There were only about six of us there and the format was such that if one guy was playing, someone else might go plug in his bass and start jamming along, or someone might pick up the little bongo drum or orange shaker thingy and add some percussion. My friend who came with me for moral support and I provided background vocals on some of the tunes we knew. It was incredible. If you have never made music with other people, please find a way to do so. Even if all you can do is clap in rhythm, please do so. I think I would be hard pressed to find an activity that brings people together in the way that music does. Which brings me to my other point about the evening.

I felt really out of place walking in there. Until my friend showed up, it was me and four guys who seemed like they all know each other and have been doing this for a while. One guy walks in wearing beat up jeans, a wife-beater, and has tattoos all over his arms and I think to myself, “They are really not going to dig what I have to play.” I need to learn to stop thinking that. That very same guy got up on stage and did Willie Nelson covers and did them beautifully. I got to talk to him for a little while later in the evening (some ego stroking on both sides) and he had a really good point – if you put a bunch of good musicians in a room together, they will appreciate each other’s music, even if it is not their personal genre of choice. These guys really appreciated the fact that I got up there and did some original tunes because a lot of what they did was covers. Granted, I was intimidated as hell trying to follow the guy who covers Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desire and Fur Elise (oh my god can that guy play!), but they liked hearing something new, even if I don’t have the technical guitar skill that they do. It was like each of us were bringing our strengths to the table and everyone else was appreciative of those strengths. It was incredible. I walked out of there feeling like I had four new friends.

So I’m walking across campus this morning convincing myself that yes, I am a good musician. The things that I write speak to people in one way or another, be it through the quality of my voice or my lyrics or whatever. Other people appreciate what I do and I love what I do and that makes me just as capable of calling myself a musician as anyone else. And then I see a woman walking towards me carrying either a penis pump or a vial of plutonium (a la Back to the Future) and I completely lost my train of thought.

Check it out. There’s a plum on my desk with my name on it.

Ah, sunglasses. One of the greatest inventions of all time. Maybe it is because I have light colored eyes, but I am very sensitive to bright light. I’m one of those people who sneezes when exposed to direct sunlight. So sunglasses have been my savior for many a year, saving me from the humiliation of squinting and sneezing in public (don’t even get me started on sneezing – I’ll talk about that another day). But finally, after months and months of being stuffed in my purse, my sunglasses died, probably a month ago. They just wouldn’t sit right on my face anymore. And just as they were dying, I found this promotional thingy in a magazine saying you could get sunglasses and only have to pay the shipping costs for them. Up to four pairs. It is a new brand and they want people to be out and about wearing their glasses, hence the “free” offer. So I figure why not? I’ve never owned sunglasses that cost more than five dollars at the gas station and with this offer, I would be paying approximately that much for some (supposedly) decent specs. So I ordered three pairs. And they just arrived today. Ah, sunglasses. I knew I missed you, but I had no idea how badly until you once again became mine.

Oh, and after I’ve tried these glasses out for a little while, I’ll tell you who made them. I don’t want to advertise on here for something I haven’t really experienced yet. But I'll let you know how they work out.

So I went to an open mic last night. The same one I used to go to, but I haven’t been there in approximately one million years, give or take a few months. I played my two songs that I’m pretty comfortable playing in front of people and I did pretty well. Positive audience reaction, which was really nice. Of course, I didn’t make the top three, but that’s cool. I got a lot of kind words from random people afterwards which was just as good, if not better.

The thing that I noticed, though, is that when I was up there, my songs each felt like they were about an hour long. Which is funny because they sound so short when I listen to them on CD. But yeah, I felt like I was up there forever. Maybe because all I really had to look at was a sea of blank faces. Which makes me appreciate live audiences. Audiences who participate in what they are viewing, be it through laughter or smiles or singing along or whatever. Live audiences. You don’t realize exactly how much they are worth until you don’t have one. And don’t get me wrong, I think it is really nice that the people in the audience at that open mic are respectful of who is playing. It’s just a switch from the kind of concerts I hope I can throw one day.

Though as two of my friends pointed out last night, I only play sad stuff. I know I play sad stuff, but I also play bitter stuff. Which may not be the most appropriate kind of music for bars and whatnot, but it is the kind of music that I play. When I feel like playing something else, I will. For now, I think I just need to find my niche and play there.

Now, I'm not really a techie, but I have noticed an interesting phenomenon. A couple of days ago, my cat got behind my television and knocked the plug out of the socket. So of course, I plugged it back in and now I have better reception than I have had in probably a year. I did not touch the antenna. I did not suddenly get cable. But suddently every one of my eight channels is crystal clear.

Who knew?

Last time I checked, cinnamon doesn't qualify as a "mint."

So the thing that irritates me about sex in the United States today is that it is all or nothing. There is no middle ground. And I’m not just talking about in movies and on TV; I’m talking about in real life, too. You can’t kiss anyone anymore without it turning into a big, “I don’t know if we should do this. Are we ready for this? I want to come upstairs, but we should probably wait” kind of thing. I know, this seems like a really odd complaint, but I’m serious. Get ready for some more of Kitty’s sexual oddities. Ready? Okay, here goes. I don’t want to have sex with every guy I meet. I don’t even want to have sex with every attractive man I meet. No, I am not a prude, but I have figured out a few things about myself and my own sexual preferences and I know that I enjoy myself a LOT MORE if there is more than a physical connection involved with the person I am sleeping with. Which is why I don’t sleep with many people – I don’t often feel that mental/spiritual/emotional/physical connection and unless I have that, I’m just as happy not having sex. Call me crazy. I blame it on the fact that I am female.

But at the same time, there is something really nice about sharing a level of physical intimacy with someone who is just so frickin’ hot you can’t not touch them, you know? You see someone walking down the street and fixate on his lips thinking to yourself, “Your lips the perfect suck me size.” Well, if you’re a Liz Phair fan you might think that. Normal people probably think, “I bet you taste really good,” or something along those lines. Me, I go for the “suck me” line. So anyway, my point is, sometimes I see someone who I’m just curious about and would like to explore that a little. And personally, I don’t think there is anything wrong with that curiosity. The problem occurs when that curiosity is acted upon because what could have been a mostly innocent kiss is now interpreted as an invitation to fuck me. That’s not what I’m going for. There is so much fun to be had without intercourse. Especially with someone new. There is a lot of joy to be derived from finding out how this new person’s body works and reacts to various stimuli. And I’m not talking about five minutes of dirty talk before the deed is done. I’m talking things like finding out how they kiss – are they a top lip or a bottom lip kisser? What is the lip to tongue ratio? What other places on his body respond to being kissed? Yes, there is the obvious answer, but where else? Men have more than one erogenous zone, as do women. And they vary from person to person. And for me, sex is a lot more fun if he knows what gets me (other than the obvious). I don’t want to tell him that. I want him to find it out through experimentation. And I want to find out through experimentation what gets him (other than the obvious).

And, if can step up on my platform shoes for a minute here, a lot of this kind of experimentation can be done with at least some of your clothes still on. Meaning the risk for STDs is significantly reduced and the risk of pregnancy is eliminated.

I dunno. Maybe I am a freak but it makes me sad that, “You want to come inside for a minute?” is synonymous with “You want to shag me silly?” I kind of missed out on those years of just making out with people (like most people do in high school, or maybe its junior high now. Kids are so anxious to grow up these days) and I think they are really valuable experiences. And just in case I ever invite any of you, my faithful readers, into my home, please keep in mind that I am being very literal and unless I specifically invite you ravage me, that’s not what I’m going for.

I think I have a new reader now. Welcome, new reader. Take a look around. Enjoy. And it will all make sense later.

So I think I have decided that when I am a rich and famous rock star, touring all over the world, I am going to have people working on my website whose sole function it is to take care of ticket sales. It will be their job to procure seating charts from the venues and then keep track of what tickets have been sold and what ones have not. There will not be huge service charges (actually, if I am in charge of pricing, I would just set the ticket price at a fair price that would cover operating costs) and I would instruct my ticket sellers to not sell tickets to brokers. I don't really have anything personal against ticket brokers, they just end up cheating people out of their hard earned money. Think about it. When you go to a concert, do you see more executives there than teenage and mid-twenties kids or the other way around? I would make a guess that the majority of concert goers (with a few exceptions like on a Rolling Stones tour or something) are people for whom $20 is a big deal. So ticket brokers swoop in and buy up all of the tickets at face value and turn around and try to sell them to kids who work in grocery stores for five or six times what they are worth. That's, like, a whole week's paycheck now for some kid to get to go see his idol play music. And it isn't the artist who is benefitting from the price hike, it is the broker.

So I guess my point is that if I ever get to the point where people actually want to pay money to see me mess around with my guitar, I would like to make sure that they can get tickets at a reasonable price and that everyone there paid about the same amount to see me (with the possible exception of front section tickets costing more than nose bleed seats). Of course, I would also love it if one day soy ice cream could be as yummy as Ben and Jerry's, so we'll see.

I wanna be a rock star. For real. And I know my wonderful, beautiful Bostonian guy friend is going to tell me that I am a rock star to him and thank you honey, I love you for that and for many, many other reasons, too, but that’s not what I mean this time. I want to be a rock star. I want to get up on stage and play my music for a room full of people, most of whom I have never met, but who are all there because they want to see me play my music (or because their boyfriend/girlfriend dragged them out but hey, it’s not as bad as they thought because this Kitty chick is actually pretty decent. You can tell she really loves to play and she puts on a good show) and I want them to sing along at the top of their lungs as if their lives depended on it and I want them to chant my name when I’m done so I’ll come back and play just one more song. And I want to hang out after my shows and meet some of the people who are so moved by what I do that they absolutely positively had to be at my show and they absolutely positively had to wait around afterwards in the hopes that they might get to meet me and shake my hand. I want to be the reason why some little girl somewhere picks up a musical instrument and starts to mess around with it, regardless of her musical background.

I saw Liz Phair last night. It is so bizarre to see your idol doing what it is that she loves to do and doing what it is that you love her to do. That makes no sense. I love Liz Phair’s music, so to get to watch her play it is almost unreal. Yes, I wish she had played more than she did, but she played so many of my favorites that I can’t really complain. The only things I really would complain about are that the volume on her microphone could have been higher and that she looked kind of silly singing some of the songs that aren’t really hers (i.e. written by the Matrix or someone else). But when she was playing the songs she wrote and that have personal meaning for her…she was beaming half of the time. It was incredible. You can tell that she really loves to just rock out now. And we all know that I love to watch people do what they love to do. I love seeing that joy and freedom inhabit someone’s entire being. It really is amazing to behold.

The opening band was okay. There was one guy in it who reminded me of my dance instructor friend from Switzerland/Germany. I think he will always be my dance instructor friend from Switzerland because that’s where he lived when I first met him. But yeah, this guitar player was kind of built like my friend and I could totally see my friend rocking out the way the guitar player did. The guitar player was really passionate about the music he was playing which is always fun to watch.

And I get to see it all again tonight. I love seeing live music. Good live music. Good live music that has played such a huge role in my life. This is why I need to marry a musician. A musician whose music I really love. Which kind of reminds me that I saw Nosferatu on the train the other day. We didn’t really acknowledge each other which is probably better. Yeah, he’s a good musician, but I don’t know that I could be as passionate about his stuff as I am about Liz Phair or Moby. And now I’m rambling and off the subject. I want to be a rock star. And I have a movie premiere coming up. I will be a rock star one day. I will play at the Metro to a room full of people who are all rocking out to stuff that I wrote. I will touch people’s lives in that wonderful way that mine has been touched by the artists who I love and respect.

I think this means my crisis of faith is over. The strength of its renewal almost makes me want to cry. Which is a good thing because that means it will last for a while.

Okay, I think today would be a good day to write an entry about things that are making me happy right now because there are a couple of people out there who are annoying the piss out of me and I really need to just let go of that. It’s not constructive and I don’t like it that I am so easily irritated by some of these people. Ignorance and laziness are just a couple of things that I have a very low tolerance for and I am finding myself surrounded by both of these things much more than I would like to be lately, so I need to write about things that are making me happy right now.

Adam Brody. He plays Dave on Gilmore Girls and Seth on The OC. Now, while I will stand behind the first of those shows until the day I die, I cannot really in good consciousness recommend the second one. Except for the fact that Adam Brody is in it. He is wonderful. Very fun. Cute in that dorky way. I see big things in his future.

Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. This show just makes me smile. I love Ted Allen, the food and wine guy. And Kyan Douglas, too. And the really nice thing about this show is that since I don’t have cable, one of my co-workers tapes it every week and brings it into the office, so at lunch on Wednesdays, we order out and watch Queer Eye. Makes Wednesdays go by a little quicker.

Liz Phair’s “comeandgetitEP.” I know I talked about it yesterday, but it really is worth mentioning again. These five songs just make me feel good. Right. Like everything is as it should be in the world. Not that they are particularly happy songs, they just feel like home to me.

I’m planning a trip to New York in September, just to hang out and have fun. And not be here for a little while.

They are putting new windows on my apartment today. Truth be told, I am a little nervous about this because I had to leave my door unlocked so they could get in there, plus I’m always nervous about having work people in my house with my stuff there, and my cat. He’s probably going to be pissed at me for closing him in my bedroom again today (I thought they were going to do the windows yesterday), but in the end, I will have pretty new windows on the front of my apartment. Which is a good thing because A) hopefully they will clean the outsides of them before they leave so I’ll have clean windows, too and B) they will be replacing the screen that is kind of messed up from the days when Owen had claws and liked to climb the screens which means I won’t have to replace that or have the cost of replacing it taken out of my security deposit when I move out.

I got to see one of my friend’s new abodes yesterday. I have a lot of friends who either have moved just recently or are getting ready to move in the near future and I got to go visit one of them last night. It was very unstructured time and it is a very cool condo. I think he has some cool ideas for things to do to it, too. You can tell he’s excited to be living there, which is really nice for him. Plus, he is a friend of mine who I haven’t seen in a while, so it was just nice to get to chat with him about nothing and get a hug and stuff.

I’m going to dinner tonight with a friend of mine who just moved back to Chicago from Connecticut. I haven’t seen him in a while, so it will be nice to hang out for a while. Plus, he’s buying.

My cat has become very snuggly. He likes to sleep near my face at night now, which means I can kind of cuddle with him while I’m falling asleep. I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten to fall asleep with a cat, but it really is one of the sweetest things in the world. And even when he tries to wake me up in the morning, it really is cute. I know I gush about him a lot, but I really do love my cat.

I’m going to see Liz Phair on Friday night. That hasn’t really hit me yet, but I should start getting excited for that. Though I’m pretty sure I’m going to be scanning the crowd for Fucknut, I’m also pretty sure I am going to have a great time. And I have a really annoying question to ask her if I get to meet her again now. And more music to thank her for.

I found an understudy for one night of the show I’m in so that I can, instead, go to the premiere of Mix Tape and I think my name is in the promo stuff for the premiere as in, “Director Jefferson Root and actor Kitty Mortland will be present for discussion following the film.” Or something like that. Makes me feel all important and stuff. I gotta figure out something to wear, though.

I’m still annoyed that I don’t have much to do at work today. I’m still annoyed at how few people will step up and take responsibility for things. Though I am kind of happy about my new song “Glue Stick” wherein I take responsibility for things I have done wrong in the past. I’m excited to lay that one down and let my musician friend go nuts with it.

So, theoretically, could I take my guitar with me to Central Park and just sit and play? I wouldn’t be playing for money, like a street performer or anything; I’d just be playing for the joy of making music outside. There is something really wonderful about making music outside. Maybe I’ll just think about that for a while – making music outside on a beautiful afternoon in New York City. That just might become my “happy place.”

Oh, and for the record, I’m kind of giving up on the whole “I need to marry Moby” thing. I have relegated myself to being a fan of him as a person and one who will see every show I can and will buy every album, but I’m convincing myself that an interpersonal relationship will not exist there. A good friend of mine looked kind of sad for me on Monday night when I told him that, but really, I think it is healthier in the long run. And that is something else I can add to my list of things to be happy about right now – becoming healthier in the long run.

And one of these days, I will once again be animated and coherent. Today is just kind of a blah day.

I don’t really want to admit it, but I will admit the fact that Liz Phair and Fucknut are intimately connected in my brain. He introduced me to her music – without him, I would not know any of her stuff, really. I would be missing out on all of this music that hits me in such a personal way that I feel like I should have written some of these songs myself, she just beat me to it. So when she sings, “It’s been so long since you’ve been a friend of mine” or about getting back together after a break up, I can’t help but associate those songs and the motivations behind them with Fucknut. Probably unhealthy, I know, but I do it anyway. I can’t help it.

And I know I have posted in here a billion times that I am over Fucknut and I really am over Fucknut, but I get these little pangs every now and again. “What happened? When did you let go of me?” I wonder. I’m human. I am a human being who never got any sort of closure in what was probably the most influential relationship of her young life so of course I am going to think about it from time to time and of course I am going to wonder about it. I’m good at this whole justification thing, aren’t I?

But I know I shouldn’t wonder. I will never get closure and I have to accept that fact as my closure. So should I stop listening to Liz Phair because she reminds me of him? Do I need to mourn her and purge her from my system as well? ‘Cuz that would be really hard. She is such a big influence on me as an artist – she made it okay for me to not rhyme or to sing too low for myself because she does the same things. I don’t think I could get rid of that. So does that mean I will never be completely Fucknut free? Do I need to be completely Fucknut free? Should I stop thinking about this and go home?

I think that, like schools, many places of business should shut down in the summers. Not restaurants or grocery stores or hospitals or movie theaters or water parks, but corporate type offices. Because seriously, so many people take vacations and whatnot that how much work actually gets done? And the people who do still show up to the office are so not productive it’s really laughable. Because we get stuck inside over-air-conditioned offices on days like today that were supposed to be ungodly hot and sticky but turned out to be absolutely beautiful days and we spend the afternoon staring out the window wishing we were out at a water park or beer garden.

Think about it – it’s a win-win situation for everyone. Water parks and restaurants and touristy type locations would get increased revenues because of all of the corporate schlubs out having fun, meaning they could hire more college kids in the summers, meaning the college kids would have more money to spend during the school year. And the increased revenues that these businesses could bring in over the summer would make them less dependent on holiday revenues and fewer of them would have to declare bankruptcy as a result of the proliferation of online shopping. And if you were a corporate shill who had the entire summer off, think about how relaxed you would be when you went back to work in the fall. I bet the national health level would skyrocket.

Man, with ideas like these, I bet I could win governorship of California. Too bad I’m not old enough to run. Or a citizen of California.

If you are a Liz Phair fan or have ever even heard and enjoyed one Liz Phair song and you have not yet run out and purchased her latest album Liz Phair, I would like to encourage you to do so at your earliest convenience. There is an internet only EP that you need the actual disc to be able to get at and it is really wonderful. It's like finding a friend you haven't seen in years and picking up exactly where you left off. I like the new disc, but the EP is so much better. So please go pick up a copy so you, too, can enjoy these five songs. You will not regret it.

Okay, but here’s something else to think about. I know of at least two married couples who met in law school. So not only am I starting law school in a couple of weeks, but I might be setting myself up to meet the love of my life. How does one prepare for that and exactly how disappointed should I find myself if I don’t meet the love of my life in law school? Because in all truth, I don’t know how happy I would be spending the rest of my life with a lawyer. Unless he had a punk band on the side. That could be cool.

So we all know already that I love Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. I spent a good portion of my evening on Saturday night discussing the merits of the show from a sociological perspective. My whole point (‘cuz I’d had about two martinis on an almost empty stomach by this point, so I couldn’t have multiple points or I would have confused myself) was that the show does not perpetuate stereotypes because of the spectrum of gay men represented on the show. Sure, you’ve got Carson who is over the top, but you’ve also got Kyan and Thom and Ted who are not. Jai is somewhere in the middle. And you have about a ten year age range and many careers covered and stuff, so I find it hard to swallow the assertion that the show is demeaning to gay men because it perpetuates the stereotype that gay men are artistic or whatever. People who say that, in my opinion, are homophobes themselves because they obviously can’t see past the fact that the men on the show are gay and see them for their intelligence, humor, and talent. But I digress.

There is one stereotype about gay men that I would like to point out that is perpetuated on that show and in many other forums (i.e. the CD from Gay.com that I am listening to right now) and that stereotype is that all gay men like dance music. I don’t know if it is true or not, but I certainly see it all over the place. Any gay bar you go into is playing the stuff. And this CD is full of it. And the theme song from Queer Eye and so on and so forth. This is one stereotype that I would like to see broken down if it is not true. Show me some wonderful, fun gay men out there who dig country music or contemporary jazz or classical music or something. Or someone let me know if this is a true stereotype so I can stop worrying about offending my gay friends by giving them mix CDs of dance music.

Physically, this was a rough weekend for me. I don’t like it when my body doesn’t want to work the way I want it to. I don’t like it that when I go to rotate my torso, my lower back starts screaming, “I don’t think so, buddy!” And of course me and my bizarre sense of pride, half of me doesn’t even want to admit that anything is wrong and/or ask anyone for help. I’m sure it’s nothing serious but gosh darn it, it hurts. And that makes me really pissy and cranky and not a very nice person. And I don’t like the idea of having to take pain killers every morning to get through the day. Guess it’s a good thing that I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning, huh? Here’s hoping I don’t forget to ask her about this.

I guess it is equally frustrating after seeing something like Cirque du Solei, too, because those people can do so much with their bodies that I wish I was able to do but this pain in my back is preventing me from doing the few things I know I can do and I know I can do well. I know it is temporary, but it is still frustrating.

How is everyone else feeling this lovely stinkin’ hot Monday morning?

And I want to wish a very happy birthday to two of my very dear friends today. My honorary sister and my music producer friend. Both born same day, same year even. Both hitting a milestone of sorts this year. Both really wonderful people. So happy birthday to the two of them.

So I made up for my cultural miscalcuations yesterday by going to Cirque du Solei today. I still don't know how to spell it, but I know I like it. Holy crap, is that a cool show. And holy crap, there's a lot of stuff I just can't do. Largely because I don't have ropes and things in my apartment or a fifty foot ceiling. But if I did, I'd be all over that shit. It's just so inspriring to see. These people do things with their bodies that are now reserved for CGI characters and they make it look so effortless. And the costumes are the most amazing things. And the sets and lights and music. Yes, the tickets for Cirque du Solei are expensive, but as far as entertainment goes, you're not going to find much better stuff out there. If you've never seen a show, please go see one at your earliest convenience. And if you happen to be my very talented dancer friend in Europe, please go audition for this. You would be incredible as a part of this show.

So I just went and witnessed proof that the Hollywood movie making machine is still very much alive and kicking, no matter how many people would like to think that indie films and films of substance are on the rise. Yes, that is right, I saw the #1 movie in America (as of last week, anyway), S.W.A.T. What? It's hot outside and I wanted to be air conditioned for a little while and the movie starring Audrey Tatou didn't start for another half an hour. So I watched Colin Farrell being pretty for two hours. Can you blame me?

But yeah, it really is amazing the kinds of films that get made these days, and the star power that goes with them. I know you've all seen the ads for this movie where the criminal offers anyone $100,000,000 to get him out of prison. Well, that offer isn't even made until an hour and fifteen minutes into the two hour film. I would say that ninety-five percent of the stuff that came before that was extraneous. Sure, I liked the introduction to Officer Sanchez and some of the training exercises were fun, but I don't think we needed to spend an hour and a half following a really pretty cop through his pseudo fall and rise back up to the S.W.A.T. team. All of that stuff could have been covered in either a thirty second flashback or a one minute monologue somewhere along the way. You know, to maybe fill in some of the time that they would need to replace by taking out Colin Farrell's ex-girlfriend. That was a useless character. But ah, I am forgetting that every movie starring a really hot guy has to have the cute female love interest in it, too, even if only for six seconds.

The stuff after the infamous offer is made is certainly entertaining, but largely predictable. I felt like the screenplay was written by someone who sat at home thinking, "Okay, they could do it this way, but these guys are too smart for that, so let's come up with a plot twist. Ooo! They could do this like they did in that other movie..." and so on and so forth. Every single one of the "plot twists" or "character exposes" has been used in at least three other films and could be spotted a mile away. Check them out! They're using a decoy! Uh oh. They're being betrayed by someone they thought they could trust. Oh dear, they're called in to work on their day off. Please.

I don't have anything against big budget action flicks that require no thought. I really don't. I like some big budget action flicks that rot your brain. And they actually showed a preview for Robert Rodriguez's new film that looks awesome. S.W.A.T. was just a chance for Colin Farrell to look pretty. Which is too bad, because he is a lot more talented than that. Even Samuel L. Jackson and L.L. Cool J (who is now using his real name in the credits, too), both excellent actors, had virtually nothing to work with character-wise. You don't care about any of the characters, you don't care about any of the situations. And you get really confused as to who is shooting who in a lot of cases.

I'm not going to demand my money or those two hours of my life back because honestly, I wasn't expecting much. And it still fell kind of short. Oh well.

You know what I would really have liked to see in this movie that would have made it much better for me? I would have like to see Colin Farrell not doing an American accent. But that could just be because I like Irish accents. Any movie is 100 times better if there is an Irish accent in it.

So yesterday I was asked the strangest question that I have ever been asked in my entire life but I can't tell you what it was and I know it is really distasteful of me to tell you something strange happened but then to not elaborate but please just trust me when I tell you that it was so odd I keep asking myself and the person who asked me if indeed the question was asked and apparently it was and I'm spending way too much time thinking about it but it was just plain weird and I'll stop talking about it soon or not talking about it as the case may be and do you like how I'm trying to hide the fact that something strange happened to me yesterday by doing this entire entry in one long sentence like the beginning of Snake Eyes which really wasn't all that great of a film aside from the opening shot but if you're a movie person you might want to check it out for that reason and that reason alone but keep in mind that if you watch it you watch it at your own risk and I cannot be held accountable for any brain cells that are destroyed as a direct result of watching the movie.

Thank you.

Oh! And a very happy birthday today to my honorary brother. Love ya!

So that was the funniest little dentist office I've ever seen in my life. It's right next to a tobacconist shop, too. I wonder if that helps business. But it was tiny. There weren't even rooms, really, just three dentist chairs separated by little shelving units and things. But I really like my dentist. She was really cool. They didn't clean my teeth; just examined them. But it was still a pretty good experience. And after approximately eight years of not going to the dentist, I only have three minor cavities. I'd say I'm doing pretty well. Though of course I now have to go get those three cavities filled and she wants me to get my retainer removed before she fills them so she can do a really good cleaning job on me. I have this wire glued to the back of my front teeth on the bottom and she wants me to get it removed and replaced with a removable retainer. Yes, I will tell you exactly how dorky I am -- I still have my retainer and I still wear it from time to time. Though if wearing my retainer from time to time means I won't have to have braces again when I'm 50, well, then I'll be a dork. A dork who has to go back to the dentist in a couple of weeks.

I’m going to the dentist today. I’m not going to embarrass myself by telling you when the last time I went to the dentist was, but suffice it to say, it has been a while. And truth be told, I’m kind of excited to go to the dentist. I was never one of those kids who hated going to the dentist. I had pretty good teeth as a kid and even when I had a cavity, I got laughing gas, not Novocain, so I didn’t mind it so much. I actually kind of liked it. And my dentist office as a child had a copy of [I]Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now?[/I], which as we all know is one of the greatest Dr. Seuss books ever written. We didn’t have a copy at home, but I would read it at least three times upon every trip to the dentist. And the other cool thing about my childhood dentist office is that in their backyard, they had this sculpture that looked to be built out of discarded casts, so if you were put in the right room, you had this funky sculpture to look at while they were working on your teeth. Plus, it just feels so nice to have your teeth professionally cleaned. You almost don’t want to eat for three days so you don’t spoil it.

So today I get to go the dentist and have my teeth cleaned and x-rayed. I’m pretty sure the dentist is going to scream in horror when he looks inside my mouth and I will probably have to go back in at some point in the near future and experience the wonders that are Novocain, but tonight my teeth will be clean and fresh feeling. Which makes me happy. Because then maybe I’ll stop having dreams wherein all of my teeth fall out. In dream language, what does it mean when your teeth fall out? I wonder. I think I’ll go look it up.

I like baseball. I really do. I'm going to a baseball game on Thursday, as a matter of fact. Out of all of the professional sports out there, I probably have the greatest affinity for baseball out of all of them. I miss playing baseball. However, there is little that irritates me more than baseball games that bump Gilmore Girls off the air. Grumble, grumble...

I wanna be a rockstar someday. If not literally, then at least figuratively.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to geek out for a minute.

I know a lot of people who enjoy comic books. And truth be told, I am jealous. I like comic books. The ones I have read, anyway. I'm not talking about Peanuts or Hi and Lois (though Peanuts was an excellent strip back in the day), I'm talking about Bone and Sandman and things of that nature. I love Bone. It is brilliant. And Sandman has the content of a novel, but beautiful artwork to go along with it. The comic book or graphic novel is an artform in and of itself and it is one I wish I knew more about. Here is where the jealousy factors in, though. I did not grow up on comic books. I was busy reading non-illustrated books. So there are all of these wonderful series out there that I have not experienced. "So what?" you may ask. "Why not just start reading them now?" Two reasons, the lesser of which being financial in nature. The more important reason is that I have missed the backstory. I have not read volumes 1-694(?) of Spiderman. And if were to go back and try to find those issues, I would either come up empty, or I would have to shell out thousands of dollars for one issue, only to have the purists yell at me for actually wanting to *gasp* READ the comics instead of keeping them in their safe, plastic sleeves in climate controlled vaults. Even some of the lesser known series than the Marvel comics and whatnot -- I don't want to start reading a series in the middle. I want to start at the beginning. And it is getting my hands on the first issues that creates a problem.

So then, the question becomes why not hang out at comic book shops and pick up every first issue of new comics that come out? Because in all honesty, they could suck and then that's $20 down the drain because I won't even be able to sell it on eBay. Indie mags can get expensive.

Maybe I should put that on my list of things that I will do when I am famous. I will read more comic books. Yes, that sounds like a good goal.

My baby is all groweds up. I felt like a proud mom this morning whose child has finally learned to sleep through the night. See, Owen always starts out the night sleeping at the foot of my bed (or sometimes up near my waist), but come about 4:00am, he gets restless and noisy, so I kick him out of my room. Not literally. I put him gently in the other room and I go back to bed. Now, all last week, it was getting to be later and later that he would wake up and get noisy (4:30, 4:45, 4:50, 5:40) which kind of excited me. And then this morning, despite the numerous times my alarm went off (I am notorious for snoozing my alarm for about an hour and a half every morning), Owen stayed at the foot of my bed. He got up when I got up. He didn’t even get too excited when I almost got up a couple of times to try to stretch out the monstrous knot that was forming in my shoulder. He waited until I got up to get up and go about his day. I thought it was the sweetest thing ever. Just to walk to the kitchen with him to get him his breakfast. It’s like he has learned that just because he wakes up at 4:00am doesn’t mean he is going to be fed at 4:00am, so he might as well doze a little while longer. *sigh* I’m such a goon for my cat. But it really was sweet.

So I would like to offer up an idea to the makers of car alarms. Instead of making car alarms that go through a whole array of sounds that make people wonder if it is, in fact, a car alarm or perhaps some type of emergency vehicle trying to get to a stroke victim, why not make car alarms that talk? I know, I know, there are those ones that sound like K.I.T.T. from Knight Rider that say, "You are standing too close to this vehicle" that are about as effective as shouting for help in the middle of an avalanche. It's like when they tell women in self-defense classes not to yell "Help" if they are being attacked because nobody will respond. They tell women to yell either "Fire" or "I don't know you" because that will actually get the attention of strangers and perhaps inspire them to help the woman in trouble. What they need car alarms to say is something along the lines of, "Hey, you're not my owner. You've never sat in this car before. My owner isn't anywhere nearby and I'm sure he/she wouldn't approve of you breaking into me and taking me for a drive. See? You don't even know how to turn off the alarm. That should tell you for sure that you're not supposed to be driving this car." Or something to that effect. That'd get my attention. Moreso than one of those annoying alarms that destroys the wonderous beauty of a thunderstorm.

Just a thought.

One of my friends mentioned to me a couple of days ago when I was in a particular funk that one of the things that people love about me is the fact that I dream and/or that I dream big. I'm still not exactly sure what to do with that. I think what she meant was that people love it that I am passionate about things and that I will take as a compliment. (I know she meant it as a compliment, I'm just over-examining it as I have a tendency to do when I am re-examining things in my life.)

So people like it that I dream. Are they drawn, then, to my hopefulness? If so, that strikes me as particularly funny because of all of the time I spent having no hope. Now I apparently have enough that it rubs off on other people. That's kind of cool.

Or I guess the other way I could take it is that people find my imagination amusing because I am always thinking about things that are more than I can achieve. Maybe other people like to escape to Kittyland, too. It really is nice there.

But I guess the important thing, here, is that if I were to stop dreaming big, I would not only be letting myself down, I would be letting down a bunch of people around me. I do like to feel useful. And I guess if I can provide an escape or some inspiration to those around me to consider bigger things for themselves than what they might have thought in the past, then I am doing a good thing. Even if it hurts sometimes when dreams die. 'Tis better to have dreamt and lost than to have never dreamt at all.

You know, even if I can't marry Moby, I love the way his mind works.

So I suck. I have failed you, my three faithful readers. Here it is, quarter to nine and I am just now updating my blog. You know why? I have absolutely no idea what to say. Should I talk about the fact that I find myself becoming the kind of person who enjoys not wearing socks after years and years of extolling the virtues of almost religious sock-wearing? Do I talk about the fact that I find myself in a position where I feel ready to meet not just any guy, but my guy? Do I talk about my level of frustration with the fact that I just downloaded software updates to my laptop, but apparently, I don't have administrator privileges on my own stinking laptop so I can't actually load the new software? Do I talk about my confused feelings regarding Schwartzenegger's bid for Governor of California? Do I talk about my loathing of cockroaches and the fact that I actually had to kill one last night and when I did, he kind of oozed on my floor? Or do I tell you about the dream I had this morning in between hitting the snooze button wherein Elrond was showing me around Rivendell and brought me to a clearing wherein hundreds of people had been turned into those sculpted trees like you find at Disneyland and this one little boy tree had me in tears, down on my knees, touching what would have been his face and apologizing profusely for something I didn't even do? Or do I talk about how much I love the guy who plays Dave on Gilmore Girls and the fact that I like his character of Seth on The OC? See? I have nothing to say. I have failed you. I will do better in the future.

I had a moment yesterday wherein I wished I had a digital camera with me right there and then. Before the little exchange with the ass guy, I saw a wasp carrying a cicada up a tree. This was an interesting sight in and of itself as the cicada was at least the same size as the wasp, if not bigger. But what made it really cool is that when the wasp got to a certain altitude, he flew off across the street. He lost a bit of altitude to begin with, but then stayed level. It struck me as very intelligent that the wasp knew he had to climb higher than usual to compensate for the extra weight when he finally flew away from the tree.

So you can now see why I was doubly irritated by the ass guy. He disturbed my geekiness with his comments about my hot ass. Rat bastard.

So I’m waiting for this messenger to show up last night after work and this guy walks past behind me and makes some remark about what a great ass I have. Now, while it is nice to know that my ass is nice-looking, this is not the time or place for such a comment. It wasn’t even just a, “Hey, nice ass,” it was more of a, “Oooo, baby, check out that sweet ass you got in that dress there.” Too much. So I ignore him. Which he, of course, takes as an invitation to stop and chat with me for a while. I won’t recount the entire conversation, but let’s just say that he got pretty lewd and I scolded him for being impolite and eventually had to pull out the husband card. He wasn’t very responsive to plain old silence.

Now I ask you, because I am a girl and am unfamiliar with the usual channels for hitting on persons of the opposite sex (or persons of the same sex, for that matter), does that ever work? Does commenting on a woman’s ass and then telling her you’ll lick her [insert synonym for cat here] really work? How many women respond to this by saying, “Yes, please take me out, treat me good, and lick me all over?” I’m guessing not too many. Unless this guy was confused by my ankle-length skirt and frumpy granny sweater and he thought I was a hooker or something. I could see a prostitute going for a line like that. To her, it’s money in the bank.

I really wanted to say to this guy, “Look, most women want an emotional connection, not simply physical gratification. The ones who are looking for simple physical gratification are easily recognizable by the way they dress and the way they throw themselves at any guy within 100 yards. Yes, it is nice that you have noticed my physique, but in doing so, you have reduced me to a mere object of your own unwelcome lust. You might be the most wonderful man on the planet, but you will never have a shot with any woman who doesn’t charge for sex if you keep using that approach.” But I didn’t. Oh well.

So I spent my afternoon at work doing very paralegal type things. Sure, they were tedious and monotonous, but they came with this wonderful sense that I was doing something useful. giving people information that they needed to go out and make a difference in the world. Or squash the little guy, I'm not exactly sure which. But in a strange way, it felt good. And I left work thinking, "I could really enjoy being a paralegal." I had a yuppie moment.

I washed my feet when I got home, don't worry.

Kind of sad today and I know exactly why, but I'm not going to write about it because it is only going to make me more sad. Let's just say that reality woke me up this morning and he didn't have a very nice look on his face. Maybe I should just go for it and become a full-fledged schizophrenic and then I could live in my little fantasy world all of the time and the state would pay for my care. Do they serve vegan food in mental institutions?

On a not quite but almost related note, one of my favorite Chicago leads is moving to San Francisco next week. He dances more like my favorite instructor from Switzerland (now Germany?) than anyone else in Chicago and though I don't dance with him very often, I really love dancing with him and I will miss him a lot. I was getting all misty-eyed during his good-bye dance last night. But then my other favorite Chicago lead asked where the first guy was moving to and I said, "San Francisco. Where all the good ones go," and he replied, "You're still here." Again with the near water-works. But then I had a really great dance with the lead who is not moving and I felt a lot better by the time I went home.

But yeah, I've been kind of sad lately. I think I need a vacation. Some time to focus on me. On getting my life in order and finding that balance between what I want to do and what I have to do to get there. Maybe re-examine some of the elements of my fantasy world and decide whether or not it is time for them to retire. And then take another day to mourn their retirement so I can move on and live like a normal person.

I'm starting to believe that ginger, like corn, is one of those foods that comes out the same way it went in.

Is it wrong that I just like to watch my cat sleep? It still fascinates me that this creature of another species trusts me and loves me as much as he does. He doesn't know what I'm saying when I talk to him, yet he knows that I will feed him and play with him and give him attention when he needs it and he knows that it is safe to sleep when I am around. It amazes me. And so I like to watch him sleep and wonder what he is dreaming about. He is so precious. Thank you to my friends who gave him to me. I love my monkey.

And another day of boredom lies ahead. But at least I'm freezing cold.

Somehow I convinced myself while out walking last night that I should go tonight after work to the open call for the next season of America’s Next Top Model. Maybe it was the desire to do something dumb and uncharacteristic since I have been having a small crisis of faith recently. But I was justifying my application eight million ways to Tuesday and had myself convinced that I should go. But I just went to the website and once of the qualifications is that you must be at least 5’7”. Damn that one inch! Or, that one inch just saved me yet another rejection that could, in my mind, cement the fact that I should go to school and firm up my “base” and turn that into a career and give up the whole artistic thing completely.

I can’t give it up, though. I love acting. I love making music. I’m just sad right now that I can’t do more than I am doing. And I’m sad that the prospects for the next year are going to be kind of bleak and this time it is not for a lack of talent, it is because I am being responsible. My dad would be proud. ‘Cuz if there is one thing we have learned from reading this blog all of the time, it is that all I want in life is to make my dad proud. Sorry, that was mean of me. I need to get out of this funk. Maybe I should go to that stupid audition tonight anyway, just so I can feel superior to the nim-wits who show up with their fake boobs and bleached blonde hair and IQs of sixteen. Or maybe I should go play an open mic so I can feel good about myself without having to put anyone else down. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll go home, work out, and then go play an open mic. And then I’ll have something to whine about tomorrow, too.

I guess the point is that even if it doesn't happen right now, as long as I keep believing that it will, then it will one day. Right?

It's just frustrating to have to put that part of my life kind of on hold for a year so that I can go in a more logical direction. I am looking forward to the challenges that will be presented by going in that logical direction, but then I see a film like Laurel Canyon, and I think, "That's the life I want. Minus the drugs, but that's the life I want." And I see people around me living that life while I am going to school to become a paralegal and I think, "Wait a second, what am I doing? I wanted to go back and get my master's degree in acting and here I am going to school to become a lawyer's assistant. What?"

Never fear, my faithful readers. Just a momentary crisis of faith. It will pass. Because if our faith could not be questioned from time to time, how could it be renewed? How could we then know that it is still there? That it is real?

What if it doesn't happen?

If you have not yet seen Laurel Canyon, please do so.

Thank you.

I like suspenders (braces for our UK friends and some purists who insist that braces are the ones with buttons and suspenders are the ones with the cheesy little clippy things). I really do. I wear big, baggy pants just about every day and the thought has occured to me (as I seem to be getting smaller or my pants seem to be getting bigger or both) that one way to avoid having to hitch up my pants every ten minutes would be to put suspender buttons on all of my pants and wear suspenders all of the time. I like suspenders much better than belts. Belts do strange things to pants and I don't think I am preppy enough to wear belts. But suspenders are classy and unique. And maybe people would start calling me Mork. But the problem with a woman wearing suspenders is the boobage factor. On men, suspenders can lie flat up the chest and over the shoulders, creating a really nice line. On women (or at least on women with breasts, like me), suspenders have to either bend around the boobs or go over top of them, smooshing them. Usually you get the bend around the outside. Bending to the inside created a really hideous 80's look that never be replicated, not even in 80's movies. Point being, the line of suspenders on women isn't as nice as it is on men. Which is why I have not put suspender buttons on my pants. It's kind of shame, though, because I really do like suspenders.

So I've got a rough cut of a new song available online. "Hamburg." It is a rough cut, please keep that in mind as you listen. And the eyes in the picture I posted are a little messed up. I will try to remedy that this weekend. But for those of you who have been suffering along with only one of my tunes (albeit a good one) to listen to, now you can hear another one and tell me if I really am just a hack who wrote one good song and who should quit while she is ahead. Or if you like the song, you can tell me that, too. I like the song. I think I need to work on some of the content of the site, but I like the song.