Friday, July 30, 2004

I'm a cynic. I think we all know that. But I'm a cynic who still has some blind faith in things around her. And as much as I hate to admit it, Senator Kerry's speech got me last night. Hook, line and sinker. He talked about hope. He talked about help. I only saw the last half of it, but I found it a refreshing change to not be scared stupid by the man talking on the television as I am when Bush makes a speech. If I wasn't already going to vote for Mr. Kerry, I most certainly will now. Even though I know a lot of it is empty campaign promises, at least he is promisng the right things.

My dad gave me a book to read the other day about why the Democrats must be crushed and how to go about doing that. It makes me really sad that such a book exists. But I decided I would read it anyway, just to see what the other side has to say. I've only read the introduction and the first chapter because I was physically ill by the time I had gotten that far into it. How can one align oneself with a party so full of hatred and negativity? This hit me again last night during Kerry's speech -- he didn't spend the whole time Bush bashing. He called upon our current commander in chief to work together with Republicans and Democrats to bring about a brighter future, a unified United States. If for no other reason, I'm drawn to the Democratic party simply because they are not mired in negativity. They are trying to make the world better, not simply pointing out the faults of others. And it makes me sad how many people are not of this viewpoint. People who I love and respect. Why spend your lives hating and cutting down when you could spend them loving and building up? I don't get it.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Time for another list of good things in my life right now. I need a reminder.

I'm playing a show on Sunday. In public.

Waking up with my cat. It has to be my favorite part of the day. We're both still a little bleary and he just lets me pet him for a couple of minutes before we go into the kitchen to get him some breakfast. It really is sweet.

My mom. She rocks.

I got a job as a costume designer on an indie film. It's going to be a lot of work and frustration for very little money, but at least it is time spent doing something creative/something that I love to do.

I got called back for another film, though in all honesty, I'm not holding my breath because most of the characters are in their teens.

I rekindled an old friendship.

I'm part of a theater company. An honest to goodness, recognized by the public and the press theater company.

Stanley's Produce. I just can't sing their praises enough. They keep me in fresh fruits and veggies all for a very reasonable price.

Yeah, that's about all I can think of for right now. I'm about to get insanely busy, so if my posting is a little less frequent for a while, that's why. But it's good, fun stuff that I'm doing and I'm very happy that I get to be doing it. I'm just missing one very important pat on the back right now that is kind of making me feel like crap. Very much making me feel like crap. It's one that has been missing for a long time, or it's been feeling more like a slap on the cheek than a supportive pat on the back, and it's one that I think it is time to do something about, I'm just not sure that I'm strong enough to do it in the best possible manner right now. If I focus on the positive things in my life, I'll feel stronger and more able to confront this little problem, right? So focus on the positives. I have a lot of creative things coming up that I am looking forward to. I have a lot of wonderful people in my life. I am well fed (seriously, I made terriyaki tofu steaks over the weekend with whole wheat couscous and carrots and they were really yummy. Plus the whole cheap organic veggies thing). I have a beautiful, beautiful cat who brings me immense amounts of joy. I have a lot of good in my life. Hopefully the missing piece will start to see that soon, too.

Monday, July 26, 2004

There is one thing I don't understand about rockstardom, and that is the phenomenon of people wanting to have sex with rock stars because of the music they write. Lemme 'splain.

Take a good, long, hard look at Steven Tyler (lead singer of Aerosmith). While I'm sure he is a great person, he is not at all physically attractive to me. Not one bit. He's kind of odd looking. Take a good, long, hard look at a lot of the big rock stars out there, and you'll see that a lot of them are kind of average looking, if not rather dorky. (The exception to this rule is the boy band star or the teen girl idol, but in their cases, people lust after them purely for their looks, not so much for their musical talent as they seldom have enough to fill a shot glass. Anyway.) Regardless, there are still millions of people out there who want to sleep with these average/dorky looking rock stars. I don't get it. Is it the fact that this person has a lot of money? Because if you're just a one night stand with this rock star, you aren't going to see a penny of that (unless you're a hooker/giggolo). Is it because this person is famous? Because again, if you're a (pardon my French) fuckable groupie, you're not going to get in on the fame action. Is is so you can brag to your friends later? Guess what. They aren't going to believe you.

It would seem, then, that the most logical reason why a person would want to sleep with a rock star is because of the music he/she writes. Which is also, in and of itself, kind of fucked up. If you listen to 90% of the music out there, regardless of genre, it is about failed relationships and heartache. Do you really want to sleep with someone with that much baggage that he/she has been able to turn it into a career? Because trust me, you aren't going to be able to save that person, but even if you could, you would then probably have to deal with being the reason why said rock star no longer writes music worth the paper is it written on. For example, Yoko Ono. Blamed to this day for breaking up the Beatles and the music she and John made together...well, it's considered crap by most of the ear-possessing world.

I don't get it. Call me crazy, but I don't. I've been to the websites of various rock stars and there is always a contingent of "I want to have your baby!" or "I want you to have my baby!" type posts. People, we don't know these people. We don't know rock stars in the way you should know someone you are sleeping with. Wouldn't you rather be totally fulfilled than have a wild romp with some guy who won't remember your name or your face the next day, just because he plays a mean guitar? Chances are, by the time you get to him, he's so drunk it won't be any fun for you anyway.

And now we're going to get really weird and egotistical (and I mean that as the royal "we"). Is there anyone out there who has heard my music and wants to sleep with me because of it? Eep. I don't know if that is something I even want to think about. I know artists are attractive, but...I dunno. I'm not always 100% me in my songs. Sometimes I exaggerate. Sometimes, I play a different character. So to have someone take that character that I play and fantasize about it to the point where he/she wants to sleep with me because of's almost as bad as being lusted after purely for looks.

I dunno. I'm rambling now. Blame it on the super crazy dreams I had last night, which I blame on the fact that I finished reading my first Harry Potter book (the fourth in the series -- doing things in order is overrated anyway) right before I went to bed last night. Just tell me to shut up and get back to my mah jongg.
So the universe is still looking out for me. Thanks.

And crap. It's going to be a crazy month.

Friday, July 23, 2004

No more crushes for me.

It occurred to me last night after I finished singing an improptu duet at karoke (I picked the song, but the fact that it became a duet was the impromptu bit) with a really good looking man (we're talking get your drool bucket, ladies) (and gay gents) after I had spent the entire rest of the evening half-watching this other really good looking man who wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to me. How dare he not watch a complete stranger interact with her friends. I know, sad. Anyway, yeah. It occurred to me that these little crushes that I get kind of force me to limit my own options. As I'm crushing on one guy, I miss another who may be even better suited to me. And I put a lot of time and energy into having crushes on cute boys. Seeing as the cute boys never have crushes on me at the same time, it's really a waste of all of that time and energy.

So no more. No more showing up places hoping the object of my crush might be there. No more not looking at cute boys because the object of my crush might be watching. No more acting like a stupid girl when the object of my crush is in the room. I will continue to appreciate the male form in all of it's glory, don't get me wrong. But no more sitting around, waiting, wishing, wanting something to happen with a particular guy. I've always had this weird faith that I will meet the guy I'm supposed to meet someday, and when I do meet him, we'll both know it. These boys who I have crushes on are obviously not on the same page as me. So why waste my time when I could just ignore them (if they are total strangers) or be my usual silly, charming, friendly, anti-social self around them (if they are my friends/aquaintances already) and probably get to know them better in the process?

So if I've told any of you about a crush I'm having, consider it gone (except for the Moby crush. That one ain't goin' anywhere). And if I tell any of you about a cute boy in the future, I'm merely informing you of his aesthetic value. There's no need for the follow up, "So did you give him your number?" question because the answer will be no. I'm just pointing out an attractive man.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

I'm going ask one more time: can anyone name for me one really, honestly, truly good-for-America thing that George W. has done in office? Really. I want to know.

People are quick to say that Kerry and Edwards lack experience. They are quick to judge Kerry for his voting record (not saying that they shouldn't, but they are). They are quick to judge Edwards for being a lawyer. I ask you, though, to look at the alternative. Would you honestly rather have another four years of that? Four more years of budget cuts for everyone except the miltary? Four more years of the rest of the world hating us? Four more years of your friends losing jobs and not being able to find new ones? Four more years of a president with a military agenda, a love for big oil companies, and very little else?

And let's look at what kind of experience George W. had prior to taking office. Sure, he was the Governor of Texas for a while. He plunged that state into debt. Polluted it worse than anyone else. Did terrible things for the state education system. Did terrible things for senior citizens living in Texas. But hey, he has more experience in office, so let's give it to him, right?

I hate being this invested in an election. I hate that I care about this shit. Because really, that's all it is -- shit. One guy calling the other names; the second reacting in a similar manner. But I'm floored by people who would rather endure another four years under our current administration than take a chance on a man who evaluates each situation as it comes, and is willing to reevaluate if the circumstances change. I can't wait to hear Kerry's speech next week. And more than that, I can't wait for Mr. Kerry to be inaugurated in January so we can put an end to all of this shit and I can very happily go back to living in a hole.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

And my fingers smell like barbecue potato chips.
The idea of birthday presents has always been kind of an odd one to me. Or at least, the idea of parents giving their children birthday presents. Parents provide everything for their kids -- food, shelter, clothing, education, affection, etc -- it just seems a little excessive to give them birthday presents, too. If anything, the kids should give the parents presents on the kid's birthday to say thank you for bringing me into this world.

But then it occurred to me that the child is a treasure to the parent. The parent is grateful that the child is in his/her life. Hence the gifts. And it applies to other relationships, too. I'm going to celebrate the day you came into the world because you are my friend and I love you and I'm glad you are a part of the world in general, and my world in particular. Here. Have some socks.

I don't know what got me thinking about this today. My mom sent me the story of the day I was born this year on/around my birthday and it's a good one. I was not a long, drawn out, painful labor. Poof! I was there. Mom was tired. The nurses asked if they could show me off. Of course, my mom tells the story much better than I do. Maybe I'll post her version up here some day. Either way, thanks, Mom and Dad, for bringing me into this world. I'm glad to be here.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Does anyone else have the sneaking suspicion that Ralph Nader is a Republican* or is it just me? Think about it: his platform is exactly the opposite of what Republicans want, right? So how easy would it be for a Republican to come up with that? And he's spent the last four years being kind of blamed for Shrub getting into office -- if Nader hadn't run, then the left would not have been split and the gap between Gore and Bush would have been wide enough that no matter how many of Shrub's daddy's friends are sitting on the Supreme Court, Shrub still could not have been installed into office. And yet this year, he's running again.

Mr. Nader, if indeed you are so liberal as to truly, truly believe in the aims of the Green Party, I applaud you. You stand for a lot of the things I believe in and I thank you for that. However, the political climate of this country is not one that at this time can sustain a three party system and frankly, there is too much important stuff going on right now to try to make a change of that magnitude. Perhaps if America was not hated by so much of the rest of the world. Perhaps if our nation's finances were in a better state. Perhaps then we could try to institute change in this country that would allow for a three party system. But right now, we need everyone who is even slightly left of center to band together to get our current administrator out of office. And frankly, while I applaud your aims, you're not going to get the entire "left of center" contingent to vote for you. You might get 3% of them. While the other "left of center" candidate could get forty- or fifty-some-odd percent of them. If we gave him your 3%, it just might be enough to remove the Shrub.

We can guarantee that none of your goals will be met with Shrub in office for four more years. We can't guarantee that all of them will be met with Kerry in office, but they will at least be heard and addressed, and maybe some of them will be met. So for the good of the majority, would you please step down from the race? I like what you have to say, but more than that, I'd like to have a man in office who didn't fill me with fear and dread every time he opens his mouth and the only way to remove him is to work together.


*I have no basis for this claim; I'm just thinking out loud. Please don't sue me for defamation or anything as I am making no real claims or assertions.

Monday, July 19, 2004

So as near as I can tell, camping is about getting together and enjoying nature by blowing things up and drinking. It is the epitome of guys being guys. And it is a hell of a lot of fun. Or would be, if there were actual bathrooms. Yes, I have now peed in the woods. It was a big step for me, but I've done it. I'd be happy to not do it again. But all in all, I had a great time camping with my honorary brother and company, so thanks, guys, for inviting me. I had a blast.

And, I have a gig on August 1! Yay! Planning, preparation, promotion between now and August 1. Wish me luck!

Saturday, July 17, 2004

I got a line on another gig. And I played an entirely different character in Floss! tonight, which was silly crazy fun. And I'm going camping tomorrow. I haven't camped since I was probably nine and truth be told, I'm nervous. But all in all, I think it will be fun, as long as I can get over the whole bathroom thing. Wish me luck!

Friday, July 16, 2004

Somehow this one didn't actually post. And sadly, I don't remember what I wrote. Sorry.

Thursday, July 15, 2004

Hi, my name is Kitty and I'm a dork.

I'm kind of sort of addicted to online mah jongg solitaire. It appeals to my anal-retentive nature. Cleaning up matching pairs of tiles. Listening to the little "ding" as the tiles vanish. It is very satisfying somehow.

So if I don't post for a little while, it's because I'm playing mah jongg. I'll finish knitting my afghan later.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

On the down side, I let my doctor weigh me yesterday. I haven't stepped on a scale in over a year, I don't think. And I came away from it with mixed feelings.

Good news: I have not gained any weight in the past two years.

Bad news: I have not lost any weight in the past two years.

Amazingly, it didn't depress me. I didn't freak out and get really down on myself or anything. I still went home and had dinner. And while I have the thought in my head that it wouldn't kill me to lose a little, I'm not obsessing about it.

And, if I could, I'd like to throw this out there. First of all, you all know that I love you, right? Okay. Now. Whenever I write about my weight or my self-image, I get this barage of e-mails from everyone offering me diet tips. I thank you for your concern. I'd rather not get your tips. I eat very healthy. I know the basic principles behind just about every kind of diet there is out there. I will admit that I snack more than I should. So if it really starts to bug me, I'll cut back on the snacking and bump up the walking (yes, I'll still go out walking the city streets at night). I'm only mentioning this whole incident at all as a sort of record for myself, not as a cry for help. So I love you, but please don't respond to this entry. It honestly only makes me feel worse about myself.

The doctor has pronounced me A-OKAY. Well, she acknowledges that I am kind of sore, mostly on my right side since that is the side that absorbed most of the impact, and she said I'll probably get increasingly sore for the next couple of days, but she's not really worried about it. She told me to stretch and take Advil if it gets really bad.

So that's it. My "getting hit by a car" story comes to an end. I was hit by a car and I got away with some muscle soreness.

One of my friends sent me a note, though, saying that he knows of several people who obtained super powers after being hit by cars. I'm hoping mine will be something really groovy, like the ability to understand men, or maybe just that extra inch of flexibility I need to be able to put my leg over my head. Because how am I ever going to get onto Stupid Human Tricks if I can't even put my leg over my head?

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

I think I might have to break down and go get checked out. My lower back hurts in a spot that it has never hurt before. A muscle I didn't know I had. And there is still general soreness throughout my right leg. I'm hoping it's nothing major. I know it's nothing major, but I think maybe I should go get checked out just in case. I'm one of the lucky ones who has health insurance, so I might as well use it, right?

And on a completely unrelated note, I played not one, but two open mics last night. One that I used to play a long time ago and one that I've known about for a long time, just never gone to. The first one was okay. I played "Beautiful World" by Colin Hay because more people need to hear that song and I thought it oddly fitting to play that the day after I was hit by a car. Not for the lovey-isn't-the-world-grand reasons -- for the sarcastic ones. And it went alright. Then I went over to this other open mic which is ridiculously close to my house and where they actually know how to set up sound well. Or at least the guy running it last night did. And over there, you get to play three songs. So I played three of mine. And the crowd loved them. I had two or three people who I've never met before make a point of getting up, walking across the room, and telling me how much they enjoyed my set. If you can call it a set. So that felt good. Get back on the wagon, so to speak.

And things are kind of in motion to get me a gig in September. I'll know more tomorrow.

Be well! And don't get hit by any cars.

Monday, July 12, 2004

My right leg is a little bit sore. And there is a baby bruise with a few broken blood vessels under my right knee. And about a square millimeter of skin was scraped off of my left knee. But that's it. To be honest, I feel a little gypped. I got hit by a car. I should have something to show for it beyond a couple broken blood vessels. I was hit by a car, for pete's sake, and I don't really have any marks on me that will get me pity points from the people around me.

Because also, in all honesty, it's a lot scarier today than it was last night. I didn't sleep last night and I don't know if it was the salsa or the fact that I couldn't get the image of the car coming at me and not slowing down out of my head. Which is silly, I know, because it already did hit me and I'm fine. But it is a pretty terrifying image. Mostly because it is a real one. That really happened to me. I got hit by a car while I was out walking.

I was paranoid crossing the street this morning. And I feel like I'm being uber careful around other pedestrians. I'm not sure which frightens me more -- the fact that I could get hit again and it would actually cause damage this time, or that I could hit someone, no matter how careful I try to be. I hit a dog once and that was very traumatic. He jumped into the road right in front of my car and even though I tried to stop or swerve, it was a highway and I was going too fast to stop in time. I can't imagine how horrible I would feel if I hit a person. And part of me hopes that the guy who hit me last night couldn't sleep, either.

I guess it is better to get hit by a car than say, a bus or a Mack truck. At least with the sports car, I was able to sort of sit on the hood and thereby absorb a lot of the shock of being hit, and I didn't have that far to fall once I slid off. With a bus or a truck, that's a flat front vehicle. No give. No shock absorbtion. I guess all I could have hoped to do was hang on and not get pulled under the vehicle. Here's hoping I never have to do that.

But by the same token, part of me wants to go to stunt school now and become a stunt person. Fuck, I got hit by a car and walked three miles home afterwards. Is it because he really wasn't going that fast, or is it because I know how to take a hit and how to fall? Who knows. I could make a lot of money doing stunt work. But I don't think I'd ever sleep again. Is insominia a reasonable price to pay to become a millionaire? Probably not.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

You ready for this? Ready? You're going to think I'm lying, but I have to promise you that I'm not. This is 100% true. You ready? Really ready? Okay, here goes. I got hit by a car tonight. For real. I got hit by a car.

So I had to return a cake pan to a friend of mine who had baked me this really yummy vegan chocolate cake for my birthday and she lives about three miles from me, so I decide I'll walk it back to her house for the sake of getting exercise. I should have worn my other socks. I now have an almost blister on my left foot. Oh well. You'd think I'd know better after the Avon Walk. Anyway, I decide I'll walk the cake pan back to my friend for the sake of getting some exercise and I decide I'll do it not in the middle of the day so I'm not battling heat, sun, and humidity. That was probably my mistake. Anyway, I get to my friend's house, return the pan, chat for a little while, drink some water, and head back out to go home at about 9:25pm. I realize at this point I will not be home in time to see "Coupling," but that's okay. I'd rather be out walking anyway.

I walk out the door and it's raining. Not uber hard, but hard enough that I'm getting wet. But as we all know, I've been in a rather foul mood as of late, so I'm actually enjoying walking in the rain. There's something cleansing about it. I walked past this wine store that had no customers in it, but a really cute guy behind the desk who kind of smiled at me as I walked past. In retrospect, I should have followed my instinct and gone in and said, "I don't even have my wallet with me, so I'm not going to buy anything, but you look really bored. Tell me a story," or something like that. But I didn't. But needless to say, I was starting to feel a little better as I was walking along. And as I'm going, I'm sort of playing the lights, by which I mean I'll cross a street and change my direction if the traffic lights are such that doing that will allow me to keep moving. This is only important when I get to the intersection of Broadway and Addison.

I'm walking north on Broadway, approaching Addison and I see that the light is just about to change, so I decide at the intersection, I'll turn and cross Broadway and start down Addison in a general westerly direction. Brightly lit intersection. I'm in the crosswalk. I not only have the green light, but the little white illuminated man telling me it is okay to cross the street. Yes, it is raining, but not that hard. So I'm almost through the intersection and I see a guy in a red sports car making a left turn who doesn't seem to notice that there is a pedestrian in his way. I yell, "Hey!" and take another step or two. At this point, I realize he is not slowing down. At this point, I realize he is going to hit me. I wasn't scared. I wasn't thinking, "Oh my god, I'm going to die right now and I've never tasted prickly pear!" I was thinking, "This jackass isn't paying attention and he's going to hit me. Crap." At this point, I also decided that me running for the other side of the street was probably a bad idea. Wet pavement means I'd have no footing. Plus, if my timing was just a smidge off, he could have hit just my ankle or something and caused some serious damage. So I braced myself. You know how you get to that point when you're about to fall over where you realize that the damage will be much less if you just let yourself fall? That if you put your hands out to brace yourself, you'll only make it worse? Yeah, it was kind of like that. I realized the best thing I could do was brace myself to be hit and try not to get hurt too badly. I don't know if I jumped a little when he actually hit me or not, but I went up on the hood of his car, kind of on my side (his bumper hit my right leg), I smacked the hood of his car, he slammed on the breaks, I slid off the hood of his car and onto the pavement. The heel of my hand felt a little bit of that "I just whacked into asphalt," but that was about it. My pant leg was soaked and I was suddenly glad that I wear long pants at all times or I would have had a nasty road burn on my thigh. And more than anything else, I was incredulous that this guy hit me. Not angry, not out for revenge, just stunned by his stupidity. So I stood up and he pulled over. The passenger opened his door and asked if I was okay. I asked if they look at where they are driving at all. The driver got out and came over to talk to me and asked if I was okay. I told him that he was very lucky that I was and asked him if he looks at where he's going when he's driving. He tried to blame it on the lights or something. I told him to pay attention when he drives from now on. He apologized in that "You should feel bad for making me feel guilty" kind of a way and I walked away. Another random woman in a random car rolled down her window to ask if I was okay. I replied that I was and took off on home.

I got about a block before I started laughing. I just got hit by a car. Was this my gentle reminder that even though I think things are really crappy right now that they could be a lot worse? Okay, message received. I just got hit by a car. And several things occurred to me in retrospect, probably the most interesting of which is that this accident happened right in front of a police station and narry a cop came out to see what happened. There was some honking involved. Plus the very loud whack of a car hitting a human being, followed by screeching tires. And not a single cop came out to investigate. But then again, what would a cop have done? I wasn't hurt. Can you give a driver a ticket for being a dumbass? Would I have had to press charges in order for the cop to issue a ticket? What would I press charges for? Being a dumbass? Because, like I said, I wasn't hurt. I walked almost three miles home from there. I didn't even have a bruised ego. You know how normally you feel stupid when you fall down? Not when you fall down after being hit by a car. I felt a little dumb when I was run over by a bull, but I think getting hit by a car is a perfectly acceptable reason to fall down. And seeing as it was entirely his fault, I don't even have injured pride. I actually got a really strange sense of invincibility out of the deal. I got hit by a car and walked three miles home afterwards. I even made a little girl laugh on my way home. After getting hit by a car. Am I crazy in thinking that that's not quite normal?

I also started replaying the incident in my head as a Monty Python skit, akin to the dead parrot sketch:

"You just hit me with your car."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes you did. You just hit me with your car."
"No, I didn't. You were lying in the street when I got there."
"I was lying in the street because you hit me with your car."
"It was a love tap."
"You hit me with your car!"

And so on and so forth.

So yes, I got hit by a car. It's one of those life experiences that I have now had and don't have to have again. I was hit by a car and walked three miles home afterwards. I got hit by a car and stood up, brushed myself off, went home, and took a shower. I think, though I could be wrong, that this entitles me to chips and salsa before bedtime. I think. And all those of you who have been wishing me ill for a long time can sleep well tonight with the image in your head of me being hit by a red sports car on a dark and rainy night. But in your version, I won't get up and walk three miles home. And you can stop wishing me ill for a little while, okay? Thanks.

Have a lovely day.

Friday, July 09, 2004

I think I figured out what it is that has been kind of bugging me as of late. As in, the past two months or so. And I'm wondering if it is just me or a cosmic shift or something because I have another friend going through something very similar. But anyway.

I'm kind of between friends right now. Groups of friends, anyway. See, it takes me a long time to get to know people and to feel comfortable in a large groups of people. I always feel the need to figure out my role in any group of people, so I have to sit back and watch everybody else and figure out what is missing and whether or not I can fill that need. Or, if the group is just particularly cool, I'll decide that my mere presence is enough, but that takes me a long time to admit, too. So, for example, with the theater kids in college, I was the smart one. With the swing crowd, I was the token actor. That kind of thing. I knew where I fit and how people perceived me and I was okay with that.

But usually right about the time I find myself getting comfortable with one group of people, the dynamic of that particular group begins to change. The thing that held us all together begins to take a backseat to other interests, be they activities or persons or what have you, and we start to drift and change and, I hate to say it, come apart as a group. If our entire friendship is based on a love of making fudge and then somebody goes on the Atkins diet and no longer eats fudge, well, then, our excuse for getting together is gone and it requires a lot more effort to maintain that friendship. And when we sit back and think about it, maybe there wasn't a whole lot more than fudge to that relationship, anyway. Or, the poultry fascination has taken over and it's something we just can't share, you know?

I think it is a good thing that people grow and change. I think life would be very dull if we didn't. But it makes me sad that a lot of the people I love so intensely just aren't really around anymore. Just as much my fault as theirs -- we just don't have things to talk about anymore.

So right now, I'm kind of between groups. I know my old group is kind of tired of me and it's probably because I also distanced myself from them as I went back to school and decided I really wanted to pursue acting and music. Those are interests most of them don't share. Which is fine. But it makes it hard to connect still. So now I'm hanging out with actors and musicians and I don't know where I fit in. I have yet to figure out why they invite me to parties. And I know this sounds to all of you like I'm being down on myself, but think about how long it took each and every one of you to get to know me. What did you think of me when you first met me? I'm not bouncy and boisterous. I'm not always vying for the spotlight. I sit on the outside, do my own thing, and watch everybody else do theirs. After a while, I might start to talk to someone who seems interesting. Eventually, the word might get around the group that I am not, in fact, a snob and that I am actually really funny and sweet, so people might come up and talk to me then. But it is a long process and a tiring one that involves many many evenings of me feeling completely out of place. Because I don't know my place yet. I will, I just don't right now.

So yeah, I've got the job frustrations, the career frustrations, the lack-of-a-love-life frustrations, and these social frustrations. No wonder I'm feeling out of sorts. No wonder I've been spending so much time with my cat. We've known each other for three years now and he still loves me. And wherever I go, he goes with me. Literally -- he follows me into the bathroom, the kitchen, all over the house. It's really quite endearing.

But please pardon me if I seem a little odd while out in large groups. And please pardon me if I stare. I'm just trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

And poof! Just like that, it's all better. Thanks, Blogger guy!
Something with my cute little site here is messed up -- it doesn't want to publish anymore for me. Which makes me sad because I know you all love my drivel so much. And I could tell you that I got to audition last night for a famous Canadian and I could say that once again, I love Moby because he went to a baseball game (granted it was a Yankees game, but at least the Yankees lost and Moby sat there examining the sociological aspects of the game and the ballpark, kind of like I do) and I could say that it is Thursday today which makes me happy because tomorrow is then Friday and I get to see Colin Hay again and I could tell you that I feel like I'm about seven because half of my nail polish has worn off, but I've been too lazy as of yet to pull out the nail polish remover and be done with it and I could tell you all of my thoughts on visiting my aunt's farm where she raises all kinds of interesting birds, but if my cute little site here won't update, I can't tell you any of that. I can just ramble on and on in run on sentences to myself and I'll be the only one who ever knows about it. How sad is that?

Here's hoping my cute little site here is fixed soon.

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

I've been remiss in my postings as of late. They've been brief and scattered and for that, I apologize. But for a while there, it was showing three of the same post. I've tried to fix that and I've done everything I can about it from my end, so we'll just all have to put our collective faith in the wonderful people at that all will be remedied soon. Or, we could just say that I really, really, really wanted y'all to have a safe Fourth of July.

It makes me happy to go up to Minnesota and see windmills. Big, functional windmills pumping clean, inexpensive power into the power grid. My brother had a good question, though. Sometimes the windmills aren't turning and it is because the demand for power has gone down. He wants to know why, at those times, they don't keep all of the windmills going and burn less coal or something somewhere else. But I guess with our current administration and the amount of jobs involved with other sources of power versus the amount of jobs involved with maintaining wind power, it kind of makes sense.

I think that when I have enough money that I can start really donating large chunks of it to worthy causes, I would like to donate a nice chunk to the development of wind power. Be it for more windmills or more surveys to find the best places to put windmills, or developing even more streamlined, more efficient windmills. Though the ones they have now are pretty sleek. Huge, and sleek. Very futuristic looking. But the nice thing about them is that they are a relatively minor intrusion into the surrounding area. If they are put out in farming fields, you can still farm right up to the base of the thing without worrying about pollution or contamination. They hum, sure, but not in the "We're irradiating you" kind of a way. I wouldn't necessarily advocate putting windmills up in national forests or protected areas or on landmarks or anything, because they do sort of screw up the landscape, but there have to be more places in the country, beyond Lake Benton, Minnesota, that could support wind farms. Or, let's develop smaller, city friendly versions of windmills that you could put on each building that would power that building specifically. Chicago is the windy city after all. How much would it decrease our dependence on polluting fuel sources if every building in Chicago was powered by the wind? These are the questions I hope are answered someday and when I have the money to fund someone who will answer these questions, I will give it gladly.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Because really, can you look a llama straight in the face and not laugh?

Saturday, July 03, 2004

Have a safe and happy Fourth of July, everybody. I'll talk to you when I get back.

Friday, July 02, 2004

Marlon Brando has died.

I have not yet seen a lot of his movies, but it still made me very sad to hear that this morning. Sure, he was 80 and in terrible health, but one of the greats has passed on. That's always a sad thing.

My condolences to his family and friends.

Rest easy, big guy.

Thursday, July 01, 2004

When I was eight or nine years old, I got the best stuffed animal ever for Christmas.

In my family, everybody was really good about hiding each other's Christmas gifts and not peeking or ransacking the house to find out what we were getting before Christmas morning. Come to think of it, we were like that for birthdays, too. We just liked surprises. So anyway, I believe it was Christmas. Might have been my birthday. Anyway. Even though we were really good about keeping things a surprise, we liked to give each other little hints by way of the tags on our gifts. I might give my mom perfume and sign the tag, "Your little stinker" or something like that. Except I don't think I ever gave my mom perfume. Anyway. It was an occasion of gift giving and my mom placed a package in my lap that said, "To: Kitty From: Frank Oz." I could not place the name. What? I was only eight or nine. I knew I should know who Frank Oz was, but I couldn't place it. I sat there for probably five minutes trying to figure out who Frank Oz was and therefore, what would be inside this package. Finally, I ripped it open, knowing that once I knew the contents, I would recognize the man. And sure enough, I did. Inside was a baby Fozzie doll from the Muppet Babies. Do you remember the Muppet Babies? Saturday morning cartoon wherein all of your favorite Muppets were, like, three, and they lived in a nursery and were watched over by Nanny who wore green and white striped socks and we never saw her face? I loved that show. I love the regular Muppets, too, but this must have been during the time span that the Muppet Show wasn't on TV. So this way, I could get my weekly dose of the Muppets. And lo and behold, now I had my very own baby Fozzie. Fozzie being one of my favorite Muppets, right up there with Gonzo. Because Fozzie is funny and self-conscious and Gonzo...well, what the hell is that? I think Gonzo was my first introduction to an interracial relationship. I didn't quite understand the attraction to Camilla, but I was perfectly willing to accept it. I didn't know how they kissed, just that they were happy together.

But my baby Fozzie went everywhere with me. Every vacation. All around the house. I had a friend with a baby Kermit doll, so I'd take Fozzie over to her house so we could play with them together. This one particular afternoon, we were playing with our baby Muppet dolls and having a snack and we decided, of course, that Fozzie and Kermit had to have a snack, too. So we took our Fritos, placed them in the gaping wide mouths of our beloved dolls, and made them "chew" the Fritos until they were so mashed up, we just threw away the crumbs. Fozzie's mouth smelled like Fritos for years after that.

I just remembered that the other day as I was eating some Fritos. Fozzie lives in my closet now. I love him too much to let my cat get at him.
Yay July!

Why yay July?

I have no idea. I just felt like saying that. It's time for me to get happy gosh darn it. I'm tired of being in this funk. Though I'm pretty sure it will last through the weekend. But next week is a four day work week. I'm done with both of my midterms (meaning I am only five weeks away from being a certificated paralegal). I'm winning the war against my cat regarding what time is a decent time to wake up in the morning. Oh, he still tries to wake me up at 4. Sometimes, he succeeds. But I don't cave. I go back to sleep. Eventually, he does, too, and then we get to have some really lovely waking up moments. And I get to kiss him every time I snooze my alarm. Beep! Beep! Beep! Slap. Kiss. Zonk. It's a kind of satisfying routine. And my contacts came in the mail yesterday, so I no longer have to be frumpy glasses girl. Now I can be just plain old frumpy girl. Who can see. You never notice how much you miss being able to see until you can't anymore.

But yeah, happy July everybody. Enjoy the summer. Enjoy the nice weather. Get out and watch a baseball game, even if it is just little league at the park down the street.

Oh, and no word yet about a gig at the one place. But I did compile a list of coffee shops in Chicago that sometimes have live music so I can go pester them, too. Anyone want to do some coffee shop scouting with me?