Place yourself, if you will, in a John Hughes movie, circa 1982. One starring John Cusack doing what John Cusack got famous for -- being a doofy romantic lead, chasing after a woman he could never have. So anyway, as the movie goes along, a connection forms between Mr. Cusack and the woman, but then she does something to screw it up. So badly that Mr. Cusack has to go for a long walk on a winter's night, searching in vain for some sort of answers. And as he rounds one last corner, there stands the woman, remorse in her eyes. With a simple look, they both know what it is that she has to say and a tear wells up in her eye. And Mr. Cusack says, "If you kissed me right now, I wouldn't feel a thing." She kisses him. He retorts, "No, really. My face is frozen. I can't feel anything." She bursts out in laughter, relieved that he has seen fit to forgive her and they kiss again as the camera floats up and away to let us know that they will spend many, many happy years together and the credits begin to roll.

Good ending, huh? I shoulda been a screenwriter twenty years ago.

And it's really hard to say goodbye to someone who doesn't answer the phone.

So I really like my little video for Hamburg. Granted, it was all shot with my little digital camera, so it actually looks better if you watch it small, but I like it. As soon as I find a place to host it, I'll let you know and we can discuss the theory/theme of the video. It really does make me happy and I'd be interested to see what other people see in it.

So I want to know why dreams in movies are always so topical? Is it because the characters are under such extreme pressure that all their minds can focus on is the situation at hand? Because I, personally, find that my dreams get even more bizarre and random when I am stressed. It takes two or three weeks of repetitive motion to infiltrate my dreams.

I watched a bunch of movies yesterday -- 28 Days Later, A Mighty Wind (finally, I know), and Terminator 3. I know I said yesterday was going to be homework day, but it turned into movie day/Hamburg video day. Yes, I have a rough cut of the video for Hamburg done. I kind of dig it. Or at least I did last night. We'll see if I still like it this morning. But anyway, the guy in 28 Days Later has a dream that he is abandoned again. In Terminator 2, Sarah Conner dreams of nuclear holocaust. In Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, he dreams of horrible things happening to his bicycle. And it's not too hard to figure out what their dreams mean in relation to the events going on in their real lives. Is it because the writers are trying to make a point? Do they think that the audience is so dumb that if Pee-Wee were to, say, dream of getting his legs amputated, that we wouldn't realize that it all symbolizes the way he feels about having his bicycle stolen? In my experience, that is how dreams work. They find the root issue and apply it to the most opposite situation they can find and that is what you dream about.

That being said, I had a really really lovely Moby dream last night. There were five or six of us just hanging out, having some food, chatting. I got to talk to Moby for a little while like he was a good friend of mine -- meaning critiquing the Christmas lights he had hanging up around his ceiling. And when it was time to go, I got a big hug from him and he asked if I'd like to record some stuff with him sometime. I did a very good job of remaining calm and offering him a copy of my demo CD so he could see what stuff I've done in the past, all the while doing cartwheels in my heart. And it felt good to just be with Moby, you know? I needed a dream like that. Thanks, brain/heart.

So I've been feeling like shit recently. Really shitty. Mostly because of the whole fucknut situation. I remember why I started calling him fucknut in the first place. I go back and forth between my eyes welling up with tears and thinking to myself, "Fuck it. You're better than this. It's not worth it." Besides, I'm too tired to deal with it today.

So I'm going to talk about something that makes me really happy. Working.

*gasp*

I know. I did just see all of you gasp in horror at my little declaration that I like working, but it's true. I have had things to do for the last couple of days. Lots of things to do. Important things (i.e. not just photocopying). Interesting things. And I like it. I like being busy. That is what has bothered me about this job all along -- in just about every other aspect of my life, I stay busy. Other people's jaws drop when they hear about all of the things that I do, but I know that I function best when I have too much to do. I get a strange sense of calm and focus when I have a huge "to-do" list. If there is only one thing on my list, it'll never get done. So I've really enjoyed being productive for the last couple of days. I hope this is indicative of things to come in my job. Yes, it will mean less crusing the net, but I do too much of that anyway. I'd rather feel like I'm earning my paycheck.

And in addition to enjoying myself at work, I am going to buy myself a couple of little presents today. SOCKS!!!!! HOORAY FOR NEW SOCKS!!!! How stupid is it that I am excited about getting new socks? But I am. And I am going to get rid of the old ones that used to be white but are now gray and look like they are going to fall apart any second. I'm going to buy TWO PACKAGES OF SOCKS!!! I know. I'm going all out. And you know what else I'm going to get? The icing on the cake? I'm going to get Moby's new DVD. I know it will bring a smile to my face. We could all use more of those.

I was watching people at the various train stations today on my way home from class and something occurred to me. Something that I think it is safe to say crosses gender, age, race, and culture lines. Something that can probably be attributed to every person on the planet. Or at the very least, the vast majority of us. We all want to be loved. We all want to be safe. We don't like being lied to or played with. Simple as that. It all comes down to love and trust. That is all anyone wants from anyone else. So why are love and security so hard to come by?

I think that if we all make a pact, right now, to love someone else and to not lie to anybody some really amazing things could happen. If nothing else, we'd all be a lot happier. And who knows what could happen in this world if we were all happy. We could get over all the wars and petty fighting and bullshit and clean up our environment and whatnot.

I'm all for it. I am going to love people. And I'm not going to lie to people or play with their emotions. There. That was easy, wasn't it?

Though I will be the first to admit that I am not perfect, so I might need a kick in the pants every now and again, okay? Thanks.

Oh, a couple other happy tidbits.

Moby's new DVD is now available. I plan on picking up a copy very soon. I suggest you do, too. If for no other reason then because it has the cutest video ever made on it -- the video for "In This World." You will get misty eyed and go, "Awww..." It is that cute.

I looked at the label inside the boots I am wearing today and discovered that they are made from entirely synthetic materials. While this might not sound like anything particularly exciting, it does mean that I do not have to replace my already vegan friendly boots. And it also means I can wear these boots anytime I want to and be completly guilt-free. So I've been spending some time this morning trying to decide which aspect of my personality is more important to me -- the vegan part or the "I'm a girl who never wears heels" part. Because these boots have a little heel on them. They are still kind of ass-kicking boots, but girly ass-kicking boots and if I can get over the "wearing heels" bit, they could become my regular, everyday wearing shoes. I'll have to see how they look with the cords, though. But at least in the meantime, until I replace my other leather shoes with vegan friendly shoes, I can wear these boots and feel good about my life choices.

I have, as of late, been frequenting this semi-fast-food joint near school so that I can get a salad made fresh for me before I go to class. It's hard to sit through three hours of lecture on an empty stomach and as much as I don't want to visit a semi-fast-food joint, it is one of the only places in the area I can go to find something compatible with my eating habits that doesn't cost $67. The thing that amuses me, though, is that when I walk in and order by saying either, "I'll have a veggie salad, please" or "Could I get a salad that is just all of your vegetables?" the clerk invariably asks, "Do you want cheese on that?" Cheese is not a vegetable. Just like cinnamon is not a mint. Don't they teach the food pyramid anymore? How is that people are so confused about what various foods are?

I saw Liz Phair again last night. I hope that one day, I can be even one-tenth as cool as her. And I don't mean that in the derogatory way that people sometimes use that phrase. She is so incredible. She has really gotten comfortable with being on stage and with herself and her music and her music is so vital and poignant. I feel so inadequate.

Somehow last night's show was different for me, though. I'm guessing it is because fucknut was there. He is the one who introduced me to her music in the first place, oh so many years ago and for a very long time, I wished that I could see one of her shows with him. And now I have. Huh. I'm not sure what to do now. It's almost like getting some weird sort of closure with a part of my life, though what part, I'm not sure. The part that wanted to sing all of those songs to him maybe? "You've never been a waste of my time/it's never been a drag." "I can't believe you had a life before me/I can't believe they let you run around free/just putting your body wherever it seemed like a good idea." "And I never met a man I was so crazy about/it kind of has become an obsession to me/I hate him all the time but I still get off/when he knocks me down and he orders me around and it loosens me up and I can't get enough and I'd pay to spend the night with him some more." "It's been so long since you've been a friend to me/seems like I dreamed and now I'm waking up to daylight/what happened? When did you let go of me?/I miss you so badly." Or with the part of my life that remembers all of the discussions we had about her music, dissecting the lyrics, while eating pizza outside on a cold fall day or sitting in his car waiting for it to warm up with his fingers shoved into the vents to thaw them out. I don't know. It was wonderful and it was strange and something ended last night, but I'm not sure what.

I also came to the realization last night that the only way I am going to figure any of this shit out is to talk to fucknut about it. Nobody else knows him the way he does, right? Especially not my friends (the wonderful, beautiful, supportive people that they are). So as nice as it would be to be able to talk this all out with one of my friends who I know loves me and will still love me after I am reduced to a wretched, sobbing puddle of girl, that's not going to rectify the situation. It's time for the Battle Royale. Me versus fucknut. Three rounds. No holds barred. Hearts and souls on the line. Winner takes all. Wish me luck!

(If you're looking for a tip, the Vegas odds makers are giving me 3:1.)

So maybe it doesn't have to be the death of me. Maybe I can just enjoy it while it lasts, not try to make it anything more than it is, and then say goodbye to it when it goes away. Maybe that is exactly what I need. Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse to enjoy myself.

Either way, as my Bostonian guy friend said, I do have you, my faithful readers, to help keep me sane. And for that I thank you.

And the phone rang. And I went. To be done with it once and for all. But it did not end. It picked up right where it left off. It felt good. It felt normal. It felt calm and right and it made my stomach feel better. It is far from over. And when it does finally end, I will be completely destroyed. But there's nothing I can do about that now.

So I come home to a message on my answering machine...

I'm too tired for this shit.

I think one of the most interesting things about writing music and sharing it with people is the things those people pick up on within the song. Which lyrics hit them. I'd always wondered if my songs were quotable and I have learned that in some instances, they are. And it's kind of cool to see which lines are deemed quotable. "Our lives were meant to just barely touch." "You're not the one the Reaper's coming for." That kind of thing.

Yes, I am a dork. I just think it's kind of cool.

I like being vegan. I really do. I had been feeling kind of weird about it for a couple of days there, probably because it was Halloween and I have so many fond memories of the sugar shock that comes with Halloween, plus I didn't really have any fun food in my house so I was living on soy dogs and not-very-crisp apples and stuff and I was looking wistfully at the pizza and things that my friends were eating. But I really do like being vegan.

I followed a link on Bostonian Guy Friend's blog to a PETA flash animation called "The Meatrix." It's a nice little piece of propaganda designed to tell people about the horrors of factory farms. It's not as bad as some of the stuff PETA produces. I have to say that while I really like the theories behind PETA (who can argue with treating animals humanely?), I don't necessarily like all of their methods. Telling people "You're wrong. You're bad. You're evil," will only make those people defensive and unreceptive. But there is a lot of stuff on the PETA website that is very positive, like the recipe choices and whatnot and the vegetarian starter kit. I was reading that stuff this morning and it made me feel pretty good about myself.

One of my friends remarked a couple of weeks ago that she had been describing me to another friend of hers who turned up her nose when she heard I was vegan. My friend stood up in my defense and said that I am not one of those pushy vegans who tries to convert everybody and the other friend was floored. I like being the kind of vegan that I am. Unobtrusive. And truth be told, I think I have gotten more of my friends to try vegan or vegetarian foods than I would have if I sent them all on guilt trips. Hell, even my theater friend who is a hard-core junk food junkie likes vegan chocolate. I think that if PETA or any other organization really wants to convert the entire world to a vegetarian diet, all they really have to do is show everyone how good vegetarian food is in a non-threatening manner.

That being said, I'm still not out on a mission to convert anyone and I will still go with my theater friend through a drive through every now and again so he can get what he likes to eat before I go home and get what I like to eat. But I'm not going to be partaking in any of the drive through food any time soon. I like being vegan.

So, um, how does one rise to the level of department manager without keeping copies of one's own work product? Just curious. I mean, if it is in attempt to switch to a paperless society, then that's fine, but what about all of the work one does then on one's computer? Does one not save anything? Is that a space issue? Because that's what floppy discs and zip discs and CDs and DVDs are for. So one can store large amounts of information in a relatively small amount of space. I dunno. It boggles the mind. Fortunately, I get to work in close contact with a person like this, so I get so experience the inanity first hand and study it.

And now for a list of things that make me happy because I really am sad and hurting today and I need to think about things that make me happy.

Moby -- he has a new DVD coming out next week that I will be able to pick up and enjoy. I just watched the trailer for the DVD online and it already made me smile. What would make me even happier would be a Moby concert, but a DVD will do nicely, too. There's live concert footage on there.

Napping with my cat -- he'll hug my arm sometimes when we nap together and I think it is just about the sweetest thing in the world. He seems a lot happier now that I've mellowed out about the whole "being in the kitchen" thing and that's good.

The sun is shining and it's really windy outside. There is something fun about sunny, blustery days.

It is Wednesday which means I don't have class tomorrow.

I saw the final installment of The Matrix last night and I think I get it.

Even though my hair is kind of unruly right now, it is getting longer. Yay.

Yeah, those are some things that make me happy. Focus on those and I'll be okay.

Day seven: no call.

And I want to ask why. I want to know. Are you afraid? Of what? You don't have anything to lose. You already lost me. What do you want? And why can't you leave me alone? Why can't I let go of you?

So of course when I go to see The Matrix, I'm hyper sensitive to the love stuff in it. "Love is a human emotion." "Love is a word." And then something about the connection that we associate with the word love and the fact that we will do anything for that connection. That's exactly what it was. It was an undescribable connection that I have not found with anyone else and I miss it. I am aware every day of the fact that I don't have that connection in my life. I do love people and I know that I am loved by people. But not like that. And that is a drug -- first one's free, after that you have to pay for it.

I'm sorry. I'm sounding jaded and cynical. Perhaps because I am jaded and cynical. I hoped my phone would ring. I honestly did. If for no other reason because I want to know why. I want to know what's going on. But my phone has not rung and it is not going to. And I have to be okay with that. I have no other choice in the matter. I have done what I can do. The rest is up to fate or whimsy or chance or whatever you want to call it. There is nothing more that I can do except move on. And so I will. Or at least I will try. Fortunately for me, I have enough good in my life that moving on shouldn't be too hard. Shouldn't be.

Day six: no call.

My honorary brother thinks I should stop counting and just forget about it. In my heart of hearts, I know he's right. But in my heart of hearts, I don't know if I can do that. I know I've spent a lot of time talking very logically in a nice even tone about the whole thing and just in general giving everyone the impression that I am mature and intelligent and logical about it. I'm good at doling out advice about just these situations. As a matter of fact, when I was talking with my honorary brother tonight, he was giving me the same exact advice I had been giving him just a few short months ago. But it's not that easy. It was never a logical situation. Hell, if it had been at all logical, there would have been no situation in the first place. It had nothing to do with thinking and everything to do with feeling. Completely unexplanable, except maybe in weepy chick music type songs. Which is probably why I write so many of those -- I can't let people see that I'm really just a stupid weepy puddle of girl, but I can let it out in my songs. I'm not supposed to be this weak. I'm not supposed to be affected like this. But I am. And as logical as I would like to sound about the whole thing, it feels like nothing else ever has. It was everything I ever wanted. Everything. All wrapped up in one fucked up little package. And that was okay. And when it went away, I felt like I was missing an arm or something. Now it's like somebody has showed up at my door and said, "Oh, hello. I've got your arm. Would you like it back? Maybe?" How can I say no? I know that I regrew my arm to some extent, but it just doesn't feel like the old one did. And yes, I know that for whatever it's worth, the old one might not feel like the old one anymore. But I want to know. I want to know that it doesn't fit anymore. I don't want to speculate. I want to mourn it once and for all and be done with it. So I can go back to being logical and doling out useful advice to other people and holding them while they cry (thank you, by the way). It is much easier for me to do that for others than have them do it for me, so wouldn't it be nice if there was no reason why they should have to do that for me?

I'm not making any sense now. I should just forget about it. I should get rid of it. I should get on with my life like I had been doing. But the number one thing I always tell everyone in situations like this is that you can't "should" yourself. You just have to do what feels best. None of this feels good. But the closest I can do right now to actually feeling good is to wait another two days, until the week is up, and then begin my mourning process. I hope I have it in me to mourn this again. For good this time.

And there was a day and it was known as day five and it passed without consequence.

Well, in one respect anyway. In another, my event finished up and I couldn't be happier. It's not that I don't enjoy dancing anymore, it's just not my life. I do other things, too, you know? So I'm glad that I don't have to be thinking about this all of the time any more. And I'm not going to do it again next year. This was it. My last hurrah at planning a lindy exchange. And for the most part, I think it went pretty well. So today, the day is mine and I'm going to go delete a bunch of e-mails. I'll check in again tonight to tell you how day six (today) goes.

Day four: no call.

But at least I have a jar of pickles to call my very own. And apparently I have big breasts. I always thought they were kind of average, but apparently, they are big. Who knew. I'm going to have another pickle.

Day three: No call.

So for the longest time, I have been keeping the door between my kitchen and my living room shut because my cat likes to go into the kitchen and break things. But the fun part about it is that the door doesn't close well by itself, so I have to wedge a folded-up piece of paper in there to get it to stay closed. This is how smart my cat is: he learned that he could knock the piece of paper out of the door, thus opening the door and allowing himself entrance into the kitchen to break stuff. Except he hasn't been breaking stuff. Yes, he knocks the occasional thing off the counter, but he's been much tamer than he had been in the past. And I've decided that even if something gets broken from time to time, so what? It's not worth getting all worked up over. And if there are paw prints on the counter, well, that's why I bought my eco-friendly orange cleanser in the first place, isn't it? So now we're both getting used to leaving the kitchen door open. And my little monkey head has the run of the entire house. I think that makes him happy.

Thank you to Sander Kleinenberg for playing exactly what my soul needed to hear. For a moment there, it didn't matter that none of my friends showed up. It didn't matter that we are now at the conclusion (well, past the conclusion) of day two and I still have not received a phone call. It didn't matter that everyone else in the club thought I was nuts because what girl goes to a place like that by herself and starts dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor? For a moment, I was the Guy in Orange. It didn't matter who was around me. The music was controlling me, moving me, making me feel things I haven't felt in a while. I almost had my cry tonight, just because the music was that good. So many people are so quick to discount techno music for one reason or another. It really is an art form that takes a long time to master. And when it is done well, it can take you on a journey you never imagined music could. You know what struck me about the music tonight? Techno is a universal language. It is all about sounds and rhythms coming together to produce emotions. Sander Kleinenberg is from Holland; I'm from the northwest suburbs of Chicago. We don't even speak the same language. But we both feel it when the music is about to hit, and when it does, we both have to jump. It is a release that is readily available to anyone who is willing to listen for a few minutes. Completely safe. Non-toxic. Semi-addictive. Pretty good exercise.

I know I'm rambling. It's late and I'm tired and yes, I did have a beer earlier, so it really is time for bed. I'll tell you tomorrow about how smart my cat is as a sort of front to keep you occupied while I quietly go nuts over the lack of a phone call in my life right now. But thank you, Sander, for making that all go away for a little while. I needed that very badly. Thank you.

I think a week is perfectly reasonable. And I am perfectly prepared to be a basket case for the next week, especially if it means that after this next week, I can forget about it completely. Get rid of that little thing in the back of my imagination that pictures everything working out okay in the end and substitute it with a different image of what "okay" is. Be strong if I ever get another "sun flare" again. Say no. I'm not saying this week will be easy for me, but it is something I am ready for. I have a lot going on to keep me from just sitting by my phone, so I should be okay. And this could be exactly the kind of closure that I need to put the whole issue on a shelf and never have to revisit it again.

I wish it was next week.

And I'm apologizing right now to all of you for the proliferation of "stupid puddle of girl" blog entries that I have been posting as of late and will probably continue to post for the next week. I know they're not very entertaining to read and I know some of you are even worried about me. I will be fine. I will survive. I always do. I'm just going to be boring for a week. Sorry about that.

Day one: No call.

Are we surprised? No. Are we going to keep a countdown until next Wednesday? Yes. Why? We need to feel like we are doing something, even if it is just venting into the nothingness that is the internet. Because if we don't do that, we'll sit and think and try once again to make ourselves cry and then we'll get frustrated once again with our inability to cry and we'll feel even worse.

Aren't we glad we're posting instead? Yes.

I use a lot of sentence fragments in my blogs. Sorry about that.

Eep. Lots of stuff going on today.

I'm getting this award at work today. A merit award. And to be honest, I'm not sure that I deserve it. Yes, when there is work to be done, I do it and I do it fast and I do it well. But I know how much down time I have and what I do with my down time. Sometimes I feel like I'm just barely squeaking by around here. But they really like me and they like the work I do and I thank my nominator and all of the people who wrote letters of support for my nomination. I think my problem with it is that there is a sizable cash award involved. If it was just a certificate or something, no biggie. But they're giving me money. More money. To sit on my ass half the time and wait for something interesting to happen. But the committee decided that they wanted to give it to me, so who am I to turn it down, right? It means I get to visit my friends in Europe, so that's a good thing.

And I found out today that Moby is releasing a new DVD on November 17 that is jam packed with all kinds of yummy Moby goodness, some of which you can preview online. So I did. And I was reminded once again exactly why I love and respect that man so much. He has a fantastic sense of humor. And then on the same day, he talks about the political state of our country. Not to mention the amazing music that he makes. I really would like to encourage more people to try to experience Moby outside of the context of his albums, be it by watching the funny tidbits on his DVDs or reading his journal entries. He really is a credit to the human race.

And today is d-day. As of today, I can expect a phone call to not happen. And I think that I have decided to give the phone call one week to not happen before I stop waiting for it to not happen. If that makes any sense. It's actually not supposed to make sense to you, but it makes sense to me. I have to keep telling myself that the phone call isn't going to come so I don't get too worked up about it when it doesn't. And one week from today, I will stop thinking about it entirely. Because seriously, what's the point? Why sit and beat myself up over it? I was fine with no phone calls months ago, why should it bother me now if I don't get one? Right? Yeah, I'll just keep telling myself that.

So I'm starting to get geeked for my event this weekend. How can I tell? I have had dreams about it two nights in a row. Not necessarily good dreams, but I've dreamt about my event two nights in a row. Yes, I am a dork.

I'm geeked for Thursday, too. I know I've said it before and I will probably say it again, but Sander Kleinenberg is my favorite techno-ish DJ. And he's spinning on Thursday night. What a perfect kick-off to my weekend! Why is it only Tuesday?

At least my Gilmore Girls are on tonight. That makes me happy.

And I promise I'll be more coherent and exciting soon. I can only really focus on simple, immediate pleasures right now. Thinking too far ahead just gets me into trouble.

It's almost here. My stupid event will be over with and I won't have to think about it anymore. That, in and of itself, is a really great thought. Kind of. I will be thrilled to not have to worry about my event anymore, but it will free up all kinds of time for thinking about other things. And most of you can guess exactly what I will be thinking about. The worst part is the waiting, you know? Something could happen on Wednesday or it could happen next week or next month or next year -- I don't know. And the question becomes, "how long do I wait before I give up entirely?" Though I still suppose there is a slight chance that I won't have to wait at all. Which would make me happy for several reasons. First of all, I hate waiting. Especially for things with no ETA, you know? Secondly, I'll be able to get this whole thing out of the way and not think about it anymore. (Are you also noticing a trend towards me not wanting to think? I have nothing against thinking or thought processes in general; I just have a lot of things on my mind that I wish were off my mind already, if that makes sense.) And third, I'll be able to get past this numbness and apathy that seem to have overtaken my body as a sort of mechanism for dealing with all of the unknowns in this particular situation. It's like I've gone into a state of shock and at this point, anything could happen to me and I'd be ready for it. And by "ready for it" I mean "it would just bounce off me and leave me completely unphased." I'm not in a very phasable state right now. And I like being phased. It's how I know I'm alive. So yeah, keep your fingers crossed for me that it all goes down on Wednesday. Monday at the latest. If I have to wait a whole lot longer than that, I'm going to go nucking futs.

Oh, and fourth, if it happens on Wednesday, you won't have to read any more bitchy, whiny blog entries like this one anymore. So there is something in it for you, too.