I really should get my butt in gear and put up my actual website. Not that I don't like this one, mind you. It's kind of nice and unimposing. But I just spent some time googling persons from my past and a few of them have really cool websites. I'm so proud of some of them for the things they have accomplished. I'm glad to see that some of us who weren't so happy in high school have gone on to make things out of ourselves. High school is not the end all be all of existence. Can you tell I've seen too many episodes of that "High School Reunion" show?

But then I come here to my cute little website. That hasn't even changed formats in probably over a year. Yes, the content changes, but not the format. And there is more content I would like to put up on a website, like groovy photos and perhaps an mp3 or two and info about where and when I'm performing and all that jazz. I have such a website constructed, kind of, I just haven't put it up anywhere yet. I should get on that so that when people google me, they are greeted with pretty pictures and stuff and not just the random dribblings of my brain.

I can't even begin to tell you how frustrated I am today. I just found out that there was a problem with my mid-term that I took online on Saturday and was told on Saturday was fine and now I have to retake the damn thing. By midnight Friday. In between work and school and training and all of the rest of the crap I have to do this week. I know a lot of that is my own fault for taking on a million projects at once, but even if I skip my after work Friday training walk to do this test, I still have a lot of reading to do for the same class, plus big assignments for my other classes to work on, too. Can we say ARGH!?!?!?

But as my classmate said, focus on the good things in life, the important things in life -- cats, music, beer, and getting back to Europe.

I've been learning Dutch phrases online from a couple of different websites and I now talk to my cat in Dutch whenever I can. I figure he's not going to laugh at me and I can get comfortable with how I sound saying those words. Granted, he also won't correct my pronunciation or anything, but at least I can try, yes? I like speaking Dutch to my cat. Mijn zoete aap.

Beer. I could use one. I know it is only nine o'clock in the morning, but how would you feel if you found out that an exam you spent two hours working on and went through the extra effort of e-mailing it to your instructor in addition to submitting answers online to make sure he got all of your answers didn't actually get through to him and now you have to redo the whole thing, or just redo the essay part and he'll make them worth double the points that they would have been worth? Yeah, you'd probably want a beer to calm down, too.

Music. I've learned a couple of new songs on my guitar. And I think on Saturday afternoon, one of my aspiring photographer friends who wants practice shooting people is going to take pictures of me and my guitar. Hopefully arty type stuff. Anything to make me feel more like a musician, you know?

And I am going in to do ADR on Leftover Voices in a couple of weeks. It's almost done. I can almost see it. And you can almost see it. I hope she sends it to every festival in the United States and beyond. Because let's be honest -- I don't want to be a paralegal.

Is it wrong in a public restroom to stand and wait for one particular stall?

I need to work on owning my femininty. How many times have I written something in this journal about me not being a real girl or apologizing for being a stupid puddle of girl or something like that? I need to stop saying things like that. I am female. There are a lot of wonderful things that come with being female. And I'm not even talking the really obvious things like the ability to create life. I'm talking about the ability to hug and kiss my friends when I feel like doing so. The ability to cry in pubic. The ability to wear fun, flowy clothing. The ability to have beautiful hair and do fun things with it. The delicacy and grace of walking around in a female body. The strenght that comes with being a woman. There is a lot to be celebrated there.

So yeah, I'm going to work on that. The same way I am good at owning my faults and I need to work on owning my good qualities, I need to work on owning my feminity. I'm kind of looking forward to working on that one.

You all know I've been kind of down as of late. Frustrated with where things are in my life right now. Which is why last night was so amazing for me. I got helpful, useful advice from an absolute stranger. Yes, I know it sounds odd. And yes, I will explain.

We all know, also, that I have this little voice in the back of my head that has been telling me for the past, I don't know how long, that people keep telling me that they like the music I write because they are my friends and there is the novelty factor of "Hey, my friend wrote a song." I know it is paranoid of me to think that and I have been pretty good for a while now about realizing that it is entirely possible and even probable that my friends like my music because it is good music that speaks to them in one way or another. And the more pseudo-strangers hear it and like it, the more that possibility increases in my mind. But still, I wonder sometimes. Especially when I am frustrated with where my life is or isn't going.

So last night, I went to do karoke. Just to be cheesy and have some fun and do something different with a Thursday night. And it was fun. I got to see a couple of friends who I haven't seen in a really long time and I got to hear one of them sing and I was reminded what an incredible voice he has. Which of course, made me self-conscious because I could hear the nervousness in my own voice. But anyway. It was fun for a while. But once they started slaughtering some really great songs, my friends and I decided it was time to leave and go visit our bartender friend at a bar across the street. I had thought at this point about just going home, but man am I glad I didn't.

There was a live band at this other bar -- two guys, one on guitar, one on keyboards and vocals. They were really good, a lot of fun, and the guy on vocals had an Irish accent. He welcomed us when we walked in the door and had the whole bar cheer for us. It was cheesy. It was fun. But then my bartender friend asks me if I would get up and do a song. I was feeling kind of sassy, so I said sure. And sure enough, they had me go up and play two songs. (For those of you wondering, I played "Hamburg" and "Astoria Park.") First of all, let me say that the guitar the one guy let me borrow was so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommed picking one up. And second, I don't know how much the people in the bar dug my songs, but my friends (including the bartender) were happy to hear me play, so I was happy. And while that may sound like the cool part that has lifted my spirits, it isn't. Yes, it gets better.

I thanked the guitar guy on my way out and got to chat with him for a minute. He complimented my voice and was just very gracious. And then I went to thank the other guy for letting me play and he sort of launched into a discussion about my musical career. I didn't ask for advice, but he started giving it. And it was good. It was useful. It was constructive. Things like I should stick with an acoustic guitar for the sound and dynamic range that it has. Things like I have a really nice voice and people like to hear women sing and I should go rent a practice space for a couple of hours so I get used to working with a mic and an amp. Things like I should learn some songs that I may not necessarily like just to make myself more accessible to a bar-type crowd because those are the gigs that pay. And then I can pepper those sets with my more up-beat original tunes. I know a lot of it was common sense stuff, and a lot of it, I have heard before from other people. But somehow last night, it got through. Here was a working musician talking to me about working in music. He was enthusiastic and honest and complimented my voice, my guitar playing, and "Hamburg," and he had ideas for how I could get out there and start actually playing for people. And it got through.

So I'm happy today, and enthusiastic. And I'll be visiting OLGA a little later today to get some chords for some bar-friendly songs. If I'm going to do this, I should do it, right? He also said that it is a matter of how badly you want it. You can stick with the gigs that don't pay, but where you get to play all of your own stuff, but they never ask you back, or you can go for gigs that pay better, you are asked back, but you have to play a couple of tunes you don't really dig. I think I could handle playing one or two that I'm not crazy about. And hell, this is a good opportunity to learn some Janis or something, like I've wanted to for a long time.

I'm excited and feeling positive. There are things that I can do now to get where I want to be. And I am doing them. En, mijn kat is goed.

Admittedly, I have mixed feelings about all of the news that has been coming out as of late to the effect of Bush and his administration not doing everything they could have to prevent the September 11th terrorist attacks on the United States. On the one hand, I am glad that there is definitive evidence out there, being reported on the nightly news and such, showing that our current President is a liar and a fink. I am glad that this information is reaching more people. I am a little bit disconcerted by it, too. I am afraid that the publication of Clarke's book now will be seen by Republicans and staunch Bush supporters as a Democratic campaigning tool. I am afraid that people will discount Clarke's testimony and whatnot saying he is a disgruntled ex-employee just trying to make Bush look bad so he can feel better about himself or something like that. I know that people will find 1,000,001 reasons to not believe a word Clarke is saying and that makes me nervous. Because those people will find new reasons to stand up for Shrub and those are the people who will go to the polls in November.

I saw one article that said that as far back as the Clinton administration, things could have been done to prevent an attack like that on American soil and truth be told, I was happy to see that in print. So that the next time someone throws the "Yeah, like Clinton was any better" argument at me, I can say, "Maybe not, but that's no excuse to keep Shrub around for another four years and let him keep making things worse. Let's learn from our mistakes and keep Junior to one term." Or something along those lines. That article kind of evened the playing field or something. Like it's not just dirt on the Republican party that is being reported in the news right now -- everybody's got problems. Therefore, hopefully, we can overlook some of the biases in the media and just take the news for what it is.

I'm nervous about the election. I have this sinking feeling it is not going to go well. Which may be why the first phrase I looked up in Dutch is "I love you." If I'm going to move to another country, I don't want to be dragging a whole bunch of negativity with me.

So the next time you see me about to order my third GIANT beer, please remind me that a glass of water will taste just about the same and not make me feel like ass in the morning. Thanks.

I should have stayed home today. I'm useless here. I could have napped with Owen until my head decides to rejoin the universe and then I could have finished up some homework and cleaned my apartment. Perhaps studied for my mid-term this weekend. But instead, I am sitting here at work, trying to motivate myself to do some filing. Yay filing. Yes, I am being sarcastic. I hate filing. But it is my job and I have to make money to live on and buy beer with. But if I only had two giant beers instead of three, perhaps I could eek by with a slightly lower paying job. So really, you'd be doing me a favor if you give me water instead of beer.

How is it only 9:46 am?

I think my cat is suffering from PWS -- Pre-Weather Syndrome. He can feel that the weather is changing and full of turmoil right now, so he's going absolutely bonkers. Really. It's worse than usual. I wish I could comfort him, but really all I can do is stay out of his way when he's running laps.

I also wish I could impress upon people the difference between "warm" and "warmer." For while it was "warmer" out this morning than it has been in a long time, it was not "warm" outside. And therefore, there was no need to open every window in the building all the way. Cracking one or two might have been okay. But just because it has reached 45 degrees Farenheit outside is no reason for it to reach 45 degrees Farenheit inside, too.

Thank you.

As per usual, when I think things are going badly, I get good news. I'm being called in to do ADR on Leftover Voices in the next week or so. They will be finishing up the sound mix the first three weeks of April. This means the film is almost done! Three years later, but it is almost done. I can't wait to see it. I can't wait for other people to see it. Which means (just as a warning to all of you out there) that while I can forgive most of you for not seeing other various films and plays that I have been in, you are required to see this one by whatever means necessary. Yes, I will let you all know where and when it will be playing. Just make a mental note that this is required viewing. If you miss it, you are fired.

Thank you. See? It's never as bad as you think it is.

I think the answer, just like it is in my song, is that no, I am not wasting my time being persistent. In very small degrees, my persistence pays off. My friend who still sings "Allowed" in the shower. The little girl who had to hug me on stage a month or so ago. I always said that if I could touch just one person's life with my art, that I would be happy. And I am happy. I can't believe that my art has been embraced the way that it has, and I need to remember to be thankful for that. Even if it is by just a handful of people. Those handful of people are different now, in some small way, because of me. There is an immense sense of satisfaction in that and I need to remind myself about that fact sometimes. Doesn't mean I am going to stop trying to do more. Doesn't even mean I'm going to stop whining or getting down from time to time. It just means that I have the mechanism in place to stop whining when the whining gets too irritating.

I talked to a friend of mine on the phone briefly last night who was experiencing something very similar to what I am, or what I have in the past. He has seen the behavior of another, and has begun to compare people's reactions to him with their reactions to this other person and he is dissatisfied. So he has begun to question himself, to try to figure out what the difference is and if it is something he can change. We couldn't talk very long because he was on his way to work, but I called him back and left him a voice mail that spoke to me, too. I can either be myself and deal with the social ramifications of that decision, knowing full well that I may be lonely or disappointed at times, but that when I find those with whom I connect, they are really connecting with me. Or I can make myself socially acceptable on a grander scale, be surrounded at all times by people who adore me, but have the sinking suspicion in the back of my mind that none of these people really knows me and that if they did, they would no longer adore me. And that most importantly, I need to not compare myself to others. Nobody is better than me and I am better than noone else. We all have different talents. I need to celebrate my talents and recognize my weaknesses. I'm very good at owning my weaknesses. I need to own my good points, too.

So I'm glad I talked to my friend last night. We didn't talk about anything going on in my life, but it was helpful for me just the same. It sounds like there is a lot of soul searching and self-examination going on around the world right now. I wish you all luck. It's not easy. But hang in there. It will be worth it in the end. Hang in there, Kitty.

I think its just that I'm getting frustrated. For every opportunity in my life right now, there also seems to be an accompanying non-opportunity which wins out every time. Without getting specific, let me share with you a little story. And no, this is not an auto-biographical story, it's purely for illustrative purposes.

Girl goes out to bar. Boy sees girl and decides to make a move. Girl thinks boy is cute. Girl and boy spend entire evening talking and having a really wonderful time. Both give the other own phone number. Waiting the requisite X number of days to call, girl calls boy to thank him for a lovely evening. Girl leaves very non-threatening voice mail message for boy because he doesn't answer his phone. Boy does not call girl back. To avoid looking like a psycho stalker, girl does not continue to call boy. Situation dies.

In the above example, girl left the bar thinking that this could be the start of something. This guy was cute and intelligent and showed interest in her. And she thought she was playing it cool by waiting a couple of days to call. But now the ball is in his court. And unless she wants to come off as crazy (which will end the relationship before it begins), there is nothing she can do to get the ball back. I feel like I am in that position in a lot of ways. I left the proverbial bar with an address book full of phone numbers, all of which I have followed up on, and nobody is biting. If I could get one bite, I'd feel a lot better, be it in my professional life, my artistic life, or my personal life; I don't really care which at this point. It all goes back to the fact that I am extremely impatient and as much as I love to learn new things, I want to learn them all RIGHT NOW. I want to know if he loves me. I want to know if my demo is a piece of shit. I want to be able to converse with someone in Dutch. I want to know how audiences will receive my films. I want to know if I can get into a theater in Europe. I've written a new song kind of in response to my trip to Europe and in it is one of my favorite lines that I think I've written (not to be distastefully boastful) -- "Am I wasting time being persistent?" Most of all, I think I would like to be able to ask that question of a million people in regard to a million things and get real answers. Honest answers. Answers that will help me figure out what my next move is. I've been in a holding pattern for so long. Something needs to change. Soon.

Sadly, I have a lot of stuff on my mind that for once I feel the need to stay quiet about. I wish I could write about it, but it's stuff that I don't want in print yet. I think I need to make some sense out of it first before I publicize it. But I kind of felt the need to say something to explain my sort of extended silence. Sorry about that.

In the meantime, the Cubs won their spring training game today. Just barely. They, in typical Cubs fashion, started out really strong and kind of lost it at the end of the game so that they only won by one run. I wonder if it is a pure stamina thing -- do they need to do more cardio before each game? -- or if it is a confidence thing -- do they get too comfortable with the fact that they are ahead so that they just get sloppy? I would tend to think that, particularly when talking about past clubs, it is more of the former than the latter because even when they are losing from the first inning, they lose it even more at the end of the game. So my proposal is that the Cubs do more cardio and/or weight training as a part of their training regimine. Thank you.

I saw The Passion of the Christ last night and it really screwed me up. In the good way, I think. As in, I have a lot to think about and a lot of questions and I gained some better insight into my problems with organized religion in the first place. But yeah, $7.50 for a good mind fuck. Is that a fair price?

I will say this, though. I know a lot of people are afraid that this film will spark another uprising against Jews or something like that. I'm not saying those fears are completely unfounded as Jews have had to go through a lot in the past. But a lot of these people refuse to see the film for that reason. I can understand not wanting to see it because of the violence. It is certainly cringe-worthy. But to speak to the alleged anti-Semeticism in the film, I have to say I don't think there is any. Pretty much everyone in the film is either Jewish or Roman -- that's who lived there back then. And there are Jews in the film who are horrible to Jesus, but there are also a lot of Jews who show him incredible amounts of compassion. There are Romans in the film who are horrible to Jesus. But there are also Romans in the film who show him compassion. And you can't even really break it up by class or gender because there are people in power who are horrible to him, and people in power who are good to him; people not in power who are horrible to him and people not in power who are good to him; men and women who are good to him and men and women who are horrible to him. I think the film paints a really interesting picture of how it was each person's own choice or own experience with Jesus that dictated how each person behaved in his presence.

But then again, each individual viewer's experience with the film will dictate how he or she behaves afterwards. If nothing else, I hope people get from this film what I consider to be probably the most important line (which you may disagree with me about, but most of the film is dramatic shots of various persons either hating Jesus or feeling sorry for him -- there isn't a whole lot of dialogue). In a flashback, you see Jesus standing on a hill preaching to the masses and he is talking about the importance of loving one's fellow man, regardless if he is friend or foe, and he says something like, "You are taught to love only those who love you...where is the reward in that?" That bit made a lot of sense to me. I hope it makes sense to a lot of other people, too.

I hope everyone had a lovely St. Patrick's Day. I will admit that I partook of two Guinnesses, despite the fact that Guinness is not vegan. I do feel moderately guilty about it, but for the most part, I am a very good vegan. I am as careful as I can be. To the extent that I lived on fresh produce, peanut butter, and baguettes in Paris as opposed to eating out and risking eating something I have chosen not to. And for the record, I would not recommend that anyone else live on carrots, apples, red bell peppers, peanut butter, and baguettes for three days. It is rather unsatisfying.

But on St. Patrick's Day, my Irishness outweighs my veganness and I have to have a Guinness or two. My ethnic background is rather a mess, but I know there is Irish in there and I am proud to be Irish. All the time. I like St. Patrick's Day because it is a day to celebrate the heritage that I am so proud of. It does piss me off, however, that St. Patrick's Day seems to have turned into the new Mardi Gras, with people running around wearing beads and silly hats for the entire week surrounding St. Patrick's Day. It is called St. Patrick's Day for a very specific reason. And people who are really Irish will go out and get hammered on March 17th regardless of what day of the week it is. That's what celebrating Irishness is all about.

Or not. But anyway, I hope you all had a nice, green-filled day. Mine was pretty good. In addition to having a couple of Guinnesses, I got a new cell phone. While it is not as pretty and/or fancy as my last one, it does have much better reception than my old one. So that's an improvement. And I went on a sort of non-date. I went into it thinking it might be a date. I went into it thinking that I would be totally intimidated by the guy and spend the evening thinking, "Why on earth is this guy interested in me?" I think he went into it thinking I would be intimidated and feel inferior as well. I didn't. At all. In fact, I stated to feel a little superior in some cases. Maybe it was the look of "Hey, you actually have a brain in there that can keep up with if not challenge mine" on his face that led to that. Or not, I don't know. But we had some good conversation and ended the night with a hug. At this point, I'm not sure if it was a date or not and I'm okay with it either way. I'm not sure that I want another date. I walked away thinking, "I put on lipstick for that?" It was much more like talking to a friend than a possible love interest. Oh well. At least it wasn't an evening spent getting emotinally invested in someone I can't have. That's a step in a positive direction for me.

The phrase "performing sex acts" always cracks me up. I know it's wrong, but it does. I always get a mental picture of...I dunno. Sex acts. But not in the way you probably think of sex acts. I don't think of a guy getting a blow job or two people having intercourse. I think of one person watching another perform a sex act. Like a circus act, but a sex act instead. Like, if someone said to you, "The hookers would go into this alley behind my house and if you looked out the window, you could see them...performing sex acts," you'd probably think of witnessing a blow job or a hand job or something. I see a guy standing by a dumpster while a woman in hot pants and a fur coat does cartwheels and stuff. She's sexy and performing an act.

Yes, I am a mutant. But it means I probably laugh more than you do and laughter has been proven to lower blood pressure and stress level and lead to a longer life. So there. Yay mutants!

I need to buy a step ladder.

If March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb, it needs to start shaping up and becoming a lot more lamb like. Because so far, I've only really been seeing the lion part. For example:

I awoke this morning, March 16th, over half-way through the month of March, and looked out my window to see a blanket of snow covering everything. Lambs don't snow. Lions are cold and snowy and blustery. Where's the frickin' lamb warm sunny breezy-ness? Where indeed.

So after the Liz Phair show on Friday night, there was a guy standing by the front door outside and he asked if I had a minute to listen to something. I figured what the hell and took a listen. He was just trying to get exposure for his band. I listened to the track he played me and it was okay. Tight sound. The guy band sound that is popular right now. And by "guy band," I mean "a group of guys who got together and made a band." Very different from the manufactured "boy band," which, if I'm not mistaken, seems to be waning in popularity. In favor of the guy band. Anyway, I digress.

After I had listened to his song, he asked me what I thought and it was hard for me to not tell him. I told him it was a tight sound and a fun song. He asked if I wanted to buy a CD and I told him I spent my last couple of dollars on beer in the show, but if he had a website, I would go check it out. He gave me the web address and I went on my way and he accosted other concert goers.

What I wanted to say to him was, "What makes you different from every other band on the radio right now? Why should I listen to your record as opposed to anyone else's?" Which sounds really harsh, but I can't get over the validity of the question. Do the airwaves need to be saturated with one more untrained tenor voice fronting two guitars, a bass, a drum kit, and a synthesizer for "cool effects?" I'm not saying that they don't, but I think it is valid to ask why they do. Are this band's lyrics deep and meaningful? Okay, then I'll listen. Are this band's lyrics political or moving in some way? Okay, then I'll listen. Are this band's members the most dedicated, motivated musicians ever to pick up instruments? Okay, then I'll listen. But I think you get my point. There are so many bands out there who all do the same thing. If one is going to get anywhere in the music business, one has to have something that nobody else does.

Which got me thinking about my own music. Of course. Like you didn't see that coming a mile away. What do I have that no other musician right now has? Do the airwaves need to be saturated with another untraned alto voice fronting a couple of guitars, a bass and some drums? I'd like to say it is my lyrics. They are honest and simple and somehow, they connect with the listeners. I didn't write them to be that way; it just kind of happened. My friend from Rochester who was in town this weekend told me that she still sings "Allowed" in the shower. I'm not saying that nobody else out there who writes their own music has good lyrics. But I think interesting, intelligent lyrics is what I bring to the table.

I'm so ready to make an album. I'm so ready to go into a studio and play something until it sounds exactly the way I want it to, not just long enough to get a good enough backing track. I'm so ready to bring in a drummer and a bassist and a cellist and a floutist and whoever else to fill out my songs and make them what they have the potential to be. And I am so ready to take that record and sell it to someone. To go on tour with it and promote the shit out of it. To play my songs anywhere and everywhere I can. I've gotten much better about playing in front of people -- I really enjoy it now, even without booze. But I'm so ready for this. Keep your fingers crossed that things will start progressing soon.

What makes my music different from everyone elses? I write honest songs that hit people in a very emotional way and I am prepared to play them for each person in the world individually if that is what it takes to find and reach my audience.

God, am I a cornball or what?

And while I'm on the subject of ranting about silly things in our society, I would just like to point out that one raisin does not a cinnamon raisin bagel make.

The thing that I hate about spam e-mails is that they get you all excited only to disappoint you in the end. "I have six new e-mails!" But then you find out that they are all in reference to drugs you can purchase to enhance bits of anatomy you don't have. Stupid spam e-mails.

I found a picture online today. Albeit an old one, it was still a picture. Yes, I was looking for one; I had forgotten what he looked like. And now I remember. And I remember that no matter how many times I looked up at him, he didn't look any less attractive. I remember feeling safe and vulnerable in his embrace. I remember that every day, but I couldn't put a face to him. He was just a feeling. A feeling I've been looking for and not finding for a very long time. But now the feeling has a face again. A face that even from years ago looks wonderful to me. I know where it is and I know I can look at it whenever I want to and I take comfort in that. Because I like that face. I like the person inside that face.

I wish the person inside that face wasn't so far away.

I have to share one other tidbit with you because it was one of those things where when it happened, I was just like, "oh," but then after I realized what was said, I was almost unspeakably happy. Here's how it all went down:

I went out last night and was talking to a friend of mine who I haven't seen in a long time. I told him about my trip to Europe and stuff and he told me that he studied theater in London for six months and I told him that one of my new goals is to spend a summer on stage at the Globe. He replied, "That's quite a goal." And I agreed. And he said, "But not a pipe dream." At the time, I just agreed and shoved my hands in my pockets. But once that sunk in, I realized that it was a friend of mine believing in me. It wasn't the automatic, "Yeah, like that's going to happen" reaction that I get from so many (wonderful people as they are). It was a, "It's going to be hard work, but it's doable." And that made me happy. So thank you to my friend. You made my night.

I forgot what it is like to make someone fall in love with you on the dance floor. To spend three minutes speaking, playing, connecting with another human being. To watch as that person's initial indifference becomes respect, then admiration, then joy, then curiosity. Because if the two of you connect this well on the dance floor...

I wrote in here a long time ago about lindy hook-ups (second cousins to one night stands). Two people meet on the dance floor, fall in love for a weekend, and go back to their normal lives on Monday. I remember the days when that is what I was looking for -- a partner to spend the weekend with at a dance event who I could get excited about going to visit at some later date. And I realize now how that is exactly what I don't want. Or not even what I don't want, it's not what I'm interested in. Those relationships don't last. They are built on nothing more than a mutual understanding of the music and how one's own body works. Off the dance floor, you still have to deal with all of the same crap that you would have to deal with if you were to find a partner through non-dance-floor means -- is he smart enough? Does he make me laugh? Is he a good kisser? Do we want the same things in life? And I'm telling you from experience, nine times out of ten, the answer to all of those questions is no.

I love falling in love on the dance floor, though. Finding that connection that wasn't there before and sharing something incredible with another human being for three minutes. But when that three minutes is over, it is time to say, "Thank you. Save me another dance later?" and go back to the bar to chat with my same good old friends who I have talked to for years.

I'm kind of amazed by the human body sometimes. Mine in particular. Just at how well it works.

It struck me when I was in Europe how often my traveling companions would remark that they were out of shape. I never once felt "out of shape" while I was there. My shoulder might get tired after carrying around my backpack and guitar for several hours, but I didn't feel "out of shape." Granted, I am also younger than either of my traveling companions, but only by a couple of years -- nothing significant enough to make a notable difference. And while I do try to get exercise as often as I can, I am by no means an athlete. I walk around. I dance sometimes. I do workout tapes in my living room when I can get myself motivated to do so. And then it occurred to me -- both of my traveling companions put things into their bodies to keep their bodies going. Most notably caffeine. I'm not talking food here, because food is necessary for any body to survive, even non-human ones. I'm talking about artificial substances. People who have to have coffee in the morning before they are functional. People who need a soda come 3pm.

I'm not trying to sound all self-righteous and stuff here, because I used to be addicted to caffeine, too. Caffeine and sugar. Still sugar to some extent, but I'm getting to the point now where I can feel it when I've had nothing but sugar to eat all day -- my body tells me, "Okay, time for some veggies or some protein." And every time that happens, I am amazed at how well my body works. The fact that it knows things like that. And the fact that if I pay attention to those things, my body functions really well.

So here were my friends pumping themselves full of chemicals so they would be able to get through a day, yet they were tired and sore a lot of the time, and here was me just taking care of myself and going through each day with energy and no pain. Interesting. If we take care of our bodies, they function the way they are supposed to. If we introduce foreign substances into our bodies, they function in ways other than they are supposed to.

I'm also not advocating Christian Science, here. There are times when my body doesn't work the way it is supposed to and I have to give it a little nudge to get back on track. But isn't it amazing how the human body has evolved to work so nicely?

Sorry. I'm being a science geek today.

I'm sorry, but low carb foods are just not satisfying. I don't mean naturally occurring low carb foods like vegetables and things; I'm talking about food products manufactured to be low carb versions of our favorite things. Like low carb snack foods.

I was in the grocery store the other day and right next to my beloved Tings on the shelf was a bag labled "Girlfriends Booty." After I stopped laughing, I picked up a bag to have a look. It is a low carb snack food, vegan friendly, made by the same people who make my beloved Tings. I decided to give them a shot. They are made with soy, so there is plenty of protein in them, too. I should have just stuck with my beloved Tings. Yes, Girlfriends Booty is crunchy. That's about all the positive stuff I can say about it. It has very little flavor and the little residue bits that remain in your mouth when you are almost done chewing get kind of pasty. I feel like in order to fully enjoy this snack food, I would have to be saliva-less. Yeah, they are really not satisfying.

I can't wait for this whole low carb craze to end.

I was going to write about this when it happened, but I didn't, so now I'm writing about it after the fact and if it sucks, well, that's why.

I'm on a kind of a kick to improve my physical appearance. Not so much lose weight and start plucking my eyebows or anything like that, but more to stop dressing like a slouch in public. Or at least cut back on dressing like a slouch in public. On on this front, I bought myself the most wonderful pair of trousers in Amsterdam. They are gray (not a huge departure for me there) low rise trousers with a really wide waistband and legs that get wider from the hip on down so by the time they reach the floor, they cover my shoes perfectly. And they are long enough that even when I wear high-heeled boots, they cover my shoes completely. And the fabric is so soft. I love these trousers. The only drawback with these trousers is that they are not lined. Meaning the panty line shows. Pretty badly. With no panty line, they make my butt look great. With a panty line, they make my butt look horrible. I spent probably five minutes in the store checking out my butt to see if I could get away with these trousers. The sales lady even checked out my butt for me in my efforts to see if I could get away with these trousers. And the verdict is that I can, as long as I wear a *gasp* thong.

So I wore these trousers to work on Monday with a *gasp* thong. Yes, that's right, Miss I Want To Be Comfortable At All Times spent an entire day in ass-floss because not only did I go to work on Monday, but I also had class and then drinks with my classmates after class and no time to change clothes in-between. And, as expected, I spent the entire day wanting to pull the underwear out of my butt. But, my ass looked great in those trousers.

Such a sad day when I feel the need to invest in more *gasp* thong underwear.

One of the nicest things about going away is being missed. Everyone wants to have their lack of presence noticed. And mine was. And I thank my friends and co-workers and family for that. It was, in a lot of ways, hard to come home. I'll try not to harp on that for too long. But to come home and be told by my cast that we had a great show because I was back in it and to be welcomed back by my co-workers with huge smiles and to get great hugs from my family and to get to spend quality time with my cat...it's not SO bad to be back in Chicago.

My mom told me that Owen was quiet when she stopped by to visit him. He's been really vocal since I've been back. I think he missed having me to talk to, too. And that makes me feel good.

So wish me luck on my midterm. And wish me luck on my paper. And wish me luck with finding more acting work and with finding someone to produce a full studio release of my album. Because when I'm happy...wait, didn't we determine that I'm boring when I'm happy? Maybe I should rethink this whole "I'm going to do what I want to do with my life" thing. For your sake. You guys make me feel loved and I wouldn't want to bore you to tears for that. I suffer so that you will have fun things to read.

I'm kidding, of course. I'm feeling okay today. In another week or so, I will see my beloved Chicago once again for the beautiful city that it is.

I have to be really distasteful and complain for a minute. And to most of you, this is going to sound like a whiny spoiled brat wishing for things just because she can't have them. But I'm going to complain for a minute anyway.

The thought of going back to work tomorrow is making me physically sick. The thought of spending eight hours in that little office, staring at a computer, when I could be out learning things and experiencing life is...indescribable. I know that there is more to life than wandering around strange cities looking for new things. I know that one has to make money in one way or another, one has to keep track of one's responsibilities. I just find myself wishing that my responsibilities were other than what they are. I don't want to be in paralegal school. I don't want to be learning how to help people who are just trying to screw the system. I want to be in school to improve my artistic abilities. I want to be learning other languages. I want to be broadening my mind, not to be becoming part of the system. God, I sound cliche. I'm sorry about that.

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday and he was playing devil's advocate to my complaints just because that is what he does. And he said that the majority of the working actors he knows would rather have jobs and act on the side than be working actors because they don't like the roles they are getting and they basically had to sell their souls and artistic integrity in order to get to where they are. He was trying to tell me that I have it good because I have a salaried position with vacation leave and whatnot and am able to do shows on the side. Thing is, when I took this job, I took it to pass the time until "my real life began." But as the time goes flying by, I find myself getting way more ensconced in this job than I ever intended to be and I start wondering if my real life will ever begin, or if I will always have to put it on hold in favor of my responsibilities. I realize that I am being overdramatic, but it is my belief in the fact that my real life will begin at some point that keeps me going and I'm afraid that the day may come when I have to give up that belief and be realistic. Maybe being overdramatic is yet another way of me trying to prove to myself that I'm not realistic yet. I still apologize for it, though. I'm sorry for whining and complaining and seemingly disregarding all of the wonderful things that I have in this temporary life of mine. I am thankful for my family and my friends and the fact that my entire cast missed me so much while I was gone and was so happy to have me back and my home and the fact that I have a job that likes me enough that I was able to take an absolutely amazing trip to Europe for two and a half weeks. I know that I am lucky in so many ways. I just get restless sometimes.

Thanks for reading.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

*sigh*

This one was originally written on Tuesday, March 2, 2004 in Munich.

So I've developed a new talent, though I don't know how proud of it I should be or how much I should run around publicizing it. I can find the seedy area of any city in six seconds flat. I'm in Munich with about three hours to kill and seeing as there really isn't anywhere to sit in the Munich train station, I stash my luggage in a locker and decide to go walkabout. For an hour. Two, tops. So I set out into the snow because yes, it is snowing in Munich and I walk approximately a block and a half before I find a sex shop. I guess it makes sense -- were I a horny businessman with a three hour layover in Munich, I might want to spend that three hours looking at naked women, too. But I'm not, so I don't. Silly me, I'm pricing internet cafes. I'm addicted, I'll admit it. I like being in touch with my family and friends when I am thousands of miles away and the signs don't make any sense at first. I must have stood outside the Thai restaurant for ten minutes before some poor employee took pity on me and came outside to help. All I had really been able to decipher was that "reis" is rice and "Thai-rot-curry" must be red curry. Thank god the guy spoke English. Now I'm having some okay Thai food (vegan) in Munich. It only sounds weird when you say it out loud. And it only looks weird when you see the look of gratitude on my face when I hear someone speaking English. I call it the, "Hi, I'm a dumb American" expression. Will the people who see the "Hi, I'm a dumb American" expression recognize me when I'm famous? Because the thing about speaking another language is that you think in that language. Germans and French aren't thinking "Thank you" and the translating. Yes, they are thinking the sentiment, but that sentiment is expressed as "Danke" or "Merci" automatically -- there is no moment of translation. And the same way a virtual hurricane of words is swirling around in my head, they are experiencing the same exact thing with a completely different set of words. And my words sound just as strange to them as theirs do to me. I wish I could hear myself as they do, talking a bluestreak of jibberish.

But I like Munich. The three blocks of it I have seen. It has a good energy. Or maybe it is the snow, making everything peaceful as snow has a tendency to do. Either way, I should come back here someday.

Things That I Like About Europe
a partial list

I like the Euro. No, they are not particularly pretty (as Moby so aptly pointed out, old stone bridges are not sexy), but I like the one and two Euro coins. There is something nice about paying for things with coins. I can't explain it any better than to say I'm a dork.

I like it that it is not automatically expected that once you step on an escalator, you will proceed to walk to the other end of it. In fact, I like it that most people here just plain ride the escalators. They walk fast, sure, but they will take a brief pause in their journey to ride an escalator. There is something pleasant about that.

I like it that no matter the weather, people will be outside walking around and riding bicycles.

I like it that everything is so close by, rendering automobiles almost completely unnecessary.

I like it that the public transportation systems are clean and have a bazillion maps everywhere to make sure you know where you're going and what the streets are going to look like when you get there.

I like it that you can say thank you to someone in one language and they will say you're welcome in another.

I like it that the little mom and pop type specialty stores have not all been put out of business by megastores. There is a store in Paris that sells mustards. A few related things as well, but it is a mustard store. And people go there with the specific intention of buying mustard. They go elsewhere to get the hot dogs and a third place to get the buns. Sure, it seems cumbersome, but when you realize that all three stores are within a half a block of one another, the quaintness wins out and you start to dig the idea of a store that just sells mustard.

I like it that the tea I have been drinking most of the time has been in loose form.

I'm sure there are more things I should be putting on this list, but they're not coming to mind right now. I have really enjoyed my time in Europe. I will be sad to go home tomorrow, as much as I want to see Owen. And as much as I'm starting to feel like it's time to get back to being "productive." I will miss the energy here. I will miss the little quirky things. And I hope I don't forget how to see the little things all around me for the first time every time I see them.

Originally written on Tuesday, March 2, 2004 while on the train between Paris and Munich.

Man, it feels good to be out of Paris. I can’t even tell you what it was about Paris that I didn’t really like, but it wasn’t my city. I met a couple of really nice people when I went out dancing on Sunday night and I thank them for talking to me and dancing with me. But for the most part, I felt like everyone was looking at me like I’m a dirty American. Which was probably all in my head, but still, that’s not a very fun way to spend three days, afraid to speak your own language because it will give you away as an uncultured snob.

I would like to put in here that I did not encounter anyone who was outwardly rude to me. And when I tried to speak French to them, they were patient with me and when I ran into someone who didn’t speak English, they would usually point me in the direction of someone who did. I don’t have anything against Parisians. I don’t have anything against Paris. It just wasn’t for me.

So now I’m on a train to Munich. I’m sure for most of the people on this train, Munich is the destination and they are all sitting here, looking for ways to pass the time until they get there. For me, I’m loving looking out the windows, watching the landscape scroll by. I decided to take full advantage of my first class Eurail pass and ride first class and it is nice up here. There is a place for me to plug in my laptop so I can listen to music the whole time without worry. The cabin I am in is climate controlled, so I can make it as warm in here as I want. And since the train isn’t that full (at least not up here), I have this whole six-seat cabin to myself. Which means I probably won’t meet any new, interesting, fascinating people while I am on this train, but I kind of like this. I could even pull out my guitar and play for a while if I want. And I don’t have to use my headphones to listen to music. Yeah, other people might join me in this cabin at one of the stops along the way, but for now, I can rest, relax, and recollect myself. Get the Paris out of my system.

Apparently a lot of people move to Europe, are unhappy here, and move back within a year, if that, and they see it as a failure that they couldn’t make it in Europe. They feel unsophisticated or uncultured or something. And had I not had a long discussion with my friend outside Amsterdam about this very topic, I might be inclined to feel the same way about my fantastic failure in Paris. But in all truth, it wasn’t a failure. I didn’t fail. The same way I know I would be unhappy living in Los Angeles or Omaha, I know I would be unhappy living in Paris. The energy just wasn’t for me. Doesn’t mean I don’t like Europe – I quite enjoyed London and ‘s-Hertogenbosch. I’m interested to see what the energy is going to be like in the German cities I’m passing through. I won’t get to really know any of these cities since I’m not staying long (perhaps just long enough to play “Hamburg” in Hamburg), I think I’ll at least get to feel enough of them to know whether or not I want to go back. With someone.

I’m annoyed that my German friend finked out on me. It’s irritating to be invited to someone’s house and then have them not be there. I don’t think I’m asking too much here or being overly sensitive. When I invite someone to come stay with me, I either make sure I will be there or that they have a set of keys so they can come and go as they please. But maybe that’s just me.

I am a little bit curious now to go to Toulouse and dance. I’ve heard wonderful things about the dancing there, and from what I saw of the Toulouse dancers in London, I think I could have fun there.

Maybe that’s why I’m so tired and ready to go home – I already figured out that my life isn’t really worth living if I can’t share it with someone. I did the month in Australia by myself thing. And here I am alone in Europe. But I will get to share at least some of my adventures with my family and friends through pictures and stories and whatnot. So that’s a good thing. But I was fantasizing last night as I was trying to fall asleep that Owen was crawling around on the bed with me. I can’t wait to see him. Admittedly, I can't wait to show people my pictures and tell them my stories. Though I don’t know how many real stories I have to tell. At least not very interesting ones.

I'm going to be posting a couple of tidbits out of order here. This one was originally written on Saturday, February 28, 2004, while I was on the train to Paris.

It’s not really all that different. It is very easy to get caught up in the whole “I’m in a foreign country where everything is different” thing, but it’s really not true. Yes, there are differences between different countries. But just about everywhere you go, you will find people getting a coffee on their way to work. You will find children playing, making snowmen, kicking a ball around. You will find people dressing in such a way as to make themselves attractive to potential partners. You will find people listening to music and making art. So yes, I just spent three days in Holland, not speaking a lick of Dutch, but it’s really not all that hard to figure out. Wherever you go, there will be signs to point you in the correct direction. Hand signals always work. Smiles are always appreciated.

I’m on a train from Amsterdam to Paris. It sounds so exotic, but in all truth, if I didn’t feel so darn relaxed, I could be taking a train to Wisconsin. There are trees and snow and train tracks and power lines and cities and towns. The only real difference is that the graffiti is in another language, and the announcements on the train are first in Dutch, then French, then English. All of the passengers still have their stuff that they hope nobody takes away from them. There are still buildings with smoke stacks and churches and schools and parks. There are still people walking down the street holding the hands of their loved ones. One thing that I really liked in Amsterdam was a small memorial on one of the canals dedicated to everyone who has been persecuted for his or her sexual preferences. I didn’t get a picture of it – it was just a little triangular outcropping into the water, like a mini pier that a lot of people had put flowers on, but I thought it was really nice.

I’m really loving being in Europe. The people are friendly and accommodating. And the little oddities that let me know I’m not in the land of my birth are cute and fun and totally things that I could live with. Like stores closing at 5 or 6 pm. You just learn to work around those things.

I think the next step for me, though, would be to figure out a way to work here temporarily because visiting a place on vacation and actually living there are two totally different things. But the outdoor market in ‘s-Hertogenbosch was great – when was the last time you had farm fresh carrots? Yeah, me too. And the Fuji apples…amazing. The food everywhere has been wonderful. And if I have to make due with Kleenex for a day because I have run out of toilet paper, so be it, you know? I do that at home sometimes anyway, just because I’m too lazy to go to the store.

I just really like it here. Colin Hay’s “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin” has been running through my head almost non-stop since I got here. Almost like I’m headed in the right direction for that to happen. I know it’s still a long way off and I’m still waiting for it, though not completely passively.

Paris observations:

Parisian soy milk is VERY sweet.

Parisian men think I'm hot.

Despite these two things, Paris is not my city. I'm ready to leave here.

I do think it is kind of funny, though, to think about Napoleon living in the Palace du Louvre, mostly because he was so small and angry and it is so big and beautiful. Honestly, if you get the chance to go to Paris for a day, take it and spend that day at the Louvre. Even if you're not all that big on art, go for the architecture inside the palace. I think I spent as much time in there looking at the ceilings as I did looking at the artwork.

But yeah, I'm getting tired and ready to go home. Tomorrow and the next day, I will spend approximately 29 hours on trains "seeing" Germany. I put seeing in quotes because I'm not really sstopping to spend time anywhere -- I'm just taking trains all over the place. Don't want to waste my Eurail pass, after all. And then back to my friend's place outside Amsterdam to relax for a day before I go home. It will be good to see Owen again. It will be good to hug my family and friends. It will be fun to do Floss!. I've had a wonderful little sojourn to the green world and I'm ready to go home now.