Do you know that you're breaking my heart? Do you know how much it hurts? Do you know how invested I am in this? Do you know that I cry every time I listen to you? Do you know how loud I scream or how close I come to actually praying? Do you know how many people you are letting down?

Three games left in the season. Three games. And we're a game and a half out. The sad truth of being a Cubs fan is that you always know that there is another year right around the corner. You can't give up on them because you love them too much. But still, a little piece of you dies every time they lose. Yes, I am being overly dramatic. But yes, I love the Chicago Cubs and it kills me to see them this close to the post season and losing such painful games to such awful teams. Our defense has been amazing, but our offense just can't deliver. It is exactly the opposite of the rest of the season and it is so frustrating. So painful. So disappointing.

But there are still three more games to play this year. And we're only a game and a half out...

I'm turning into a morning drink person. I like coming in to work and having my tea. For the tea part, not the coming in to work part. I'm currently enjoying a nice blend of white and green teas that has all of the benefits of green tea, but without that mown grass aftertaste that so many green teas have. It's the addition of the white, which actually has more antioxidants than green tea. So I'm doing something moderately healthy for my body, which makes me feel good. Especially with the schedule I've been keeping as of late. I'm eating all funky and I don't think I've gotten a decent night's sleep in about three weeks, and when I do sleep, I dream of costumes and the problems associated therewith and then I stay at the theater too late or I get a drink afterwards which turns into six and I've not been eating right so the alcohol really fucks me up and I will be so beyond glad when this show is up and running so I don't have to worry about it anymore so I feel good coming in to work and drinking green and white tea in the morning. Give my body a little immuno boost that I am pretty sure it needs. Moreso than usual. Will I keep this up after the show is over? Who knows. But for right now, I am a "tea first thing in the morning" person and I kind of like it.

So I'm contemplating this audition that if I get it, could significantly change my life. Which, of course, means I won't get it. I don't want to talk about it too much, but it is kind of fun to think of my life changing in that way. It's time. And, of course, that means the thought of going to this audition is scaring the crap out of me. But I'm going to go and at the very least try. Then when I'm not cast, at least I know it wasn't for lack of effort. But still, keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?

So in his infinite wisdom, Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger has apparently made it illegal to smoke in prison in California.

Now, let me insert a nice little disclaimer here -- I have never been to prison. I don't know what it is like. I have only seen several dozen prison movies, none of them pornographic in nature, so I am forced to assume that they are an accurate portrayal of prison life. Now back to my rant.

Does this seem like a bad idea to anyone else? No, I am not in favor of smoking. I will, sometimes, hold my breath when I hug a friend who smokes because the smell is repulsive. I have seen plenty of photographs of diseased lungs. I know smoking is bad for you. However, let's consider the social importance of cigarettes in prison society. According to movies, cigarettes are currency. Eliminating cigarettes from prison society would be like saying, "Okay, nobody has any money any more. You are all worth the same amount and none of you has anything with which to barter to get the things you want or need." Yeah, that's not going to cause chaos. Now, imagine saying that to a group of several thousand convicted criminals. No, not all criminals are angry, violent people. But there are enough of them that are (I'm betting) that their reaction to such a proclimation would not be to shed their clothing and start singing "Give Peace a Chance." And now take all of these irritated convicted criminals and tell them that not only are they worth nothing and they have nothing worth anything, but they still have to live in a teeny, tiny box with all of these other irritated convicted criminals. And then, as if things weren't tense enough, deprive them of the nicotine they are so dependent upon. I'm guessing a lot of them in there had been smoking for years, and their nicotine consumption skyrocketed once they were incarcerated because really, what else is there to do? So now, you've got thousands of angry convicted criminals all having nic fits at the same time and no real outlet for their anger and frustration. And what are you going to do to a prisoner if he/she breaks the no-smoking-in-prison law? Put them in jail? Solitary confinement? You want a guy having nic fits sitting in solitary confinement? You know how pissed off he's going to be when he gets out of there?

I know that the whole point of prison is that you are deprived of your everyday rights because you did something society deems unacceptable. I know that smoking is damaging not only to those inhaling the cigarettes, but everyone around them. But considering the possible consequences of removing the one sedative from an already volatile powder keg...I'm torn. It will be interesting to see how this ban pans out.

So I'm anal retentive. So what? Is that really such a bad thing?

The weird thing is that I'm only anal retentive with other people's things. Seriously. You should see my house. I'm not at all obsessive about cleaning, but it's getting to a point where even I am getting disgusted. It's not so much dirty as just messy. My chaos is taking over my apartment and I am almost having problems finding things. Almost. Not quite. I keep telling myself that as soon as this Halloween show goes up, I'll be able to give my apartment a good scrubbing and purge a lot of the useless crap. It needs it.

But this Halloween show. I've been freaking out about the costumes for it for weeks now, running around finding things, pulling things, making things. But I haven't been able to organize them yet because of a lack of rack, hangers, and other organizational tools. But finally, all of that has come together. Well, not so much the hangers, but the rest of it. And I can lay everything out and very easily see which actor is missing which pieces. I feel so much better now. Granted, I still have a lot of work to do, but at least I can see it all coming together. I know better which things I don't have to worry about anymore and which things I do. That makes me happy. Or at least, it lets me sleep at night with only one nightmare about clothing...

I can't help but think about how many world problems would be solved if everyone wore comfortable shoes. All of the time. Not just slippers when you get home from work, but comfortable work shoes. Comfortable going out shoes. All around all of the time comfortable shoes. There really is nothing nicer than sliding on a pair of shoes that hug your feet just right and know that at the end of the day, your feet will feel just as wonderful as they do right now.

I rediscovered this pair of shoes in my closet that I bought in Chinatown in New York City for three dollars and I love them. So comfy. And they make this cute "pat, pat" sound when I walk. And they are fuzzy and blue. I love them. It is making me very happy and peaceful today to be wearing these shoes. Imagine if everyone got to feel like that all of the time.

So here's my little tip for shoe designers -- funky is cool, but comfortable sells to everyone. Or something like that. Just make comfortable shoes, okay? No more eight inch heels with no padding in the ball of the foot. Those just make people cranky.

Some of the most beautiful music in the world is created by a very sweet little man by the name of Colin Hay. His songs are simple, yet masterful in their construction. The words are real and honest and true. The voice is not perfect, but it speaks to your soul in the way your best friend's embrace does. If you do not know of what I speak, please make the time in your day to go out and pick up a record by Colin Hay. Your heart will thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Hay, for sharing your beauty with us.

Ten games left in the regular season. Half a game lead in the wild card race. I am currently knocking on every wooden surface I encounter.

Did you know the last time the Cubs made it to the post season in two consecutive seasons was 1907 and 1908?

Did you know the last time the Cubs had two consecutive above-500 seasons was in the 1950's?

Do you know how badly I want the Cubs to make it to the post-season this year?

Ten games to go. Gotta maintain a half-game lead. My Cubbies can do it.

Knock on wood.

Wow, Cat Stevens was denied entry into the United States because he is on the terror threat list. I think I'm going to cry.

I don't have all of the information, so it may be completely justified to put him on the terror threat list, but it still makes me sad and I'll tell you why.

High school was rough for me. I know that high school is rough for 90% of teenagers out there, but that doesn't mean it was any less rough for me. I was miserable every day for four years. But this one day, my junior year, our teacher showed us Harold and Maude. I don't remember why she showed us the movie, as in what educational value it was supposed to contain, but she showed it to us nonetheless and I fell in love. I fell in love with Bud Cort and Ruth Gordon, and most of all, with the music of Cat Stevens. "If you want to sing out, sing out. If you want to be free, be free. 'Cuz there's a million things to be, you know that there are." In my adolescent mind, no truer words had ever been spoken and I took tremendous comfort in them. My friends and I did our best to compile a Harold and Maude soundtrack since an official one was never released and we couldn't make it through a day without singing something from the film. His songs touched my soul and made it okay to be me and to do what I wanted to do. And if I was having a really rough day, "Trouble" let me know that someone else was having one, too.

In the midst of our obsession, though, we did find out about Mr. Stevens renunciation of all of his musical works when he discovered Islam and changed his name to Yusif Islam. I was heartbroken that he would take back everything that he said, as it meant so much to me. But secretly, I knew that he still meant it. He found himself in Islam and did what he wanted to do, the same as he had been telling me to do (minus the Islam part).

So now to see him denied entry into the United States because he is a perceived threat to the nation...it's like that last little bit of faith I had in Cat Stevens' lyric has been killed. The man who helped me through some very dark days is now thought to be a man who could bring about very dark days for the entire country. I don't know if that makes sense to you, or if it makes any sense why it saddens me, but it does.

I still love Cat Stevens. I will still play his songs and take tremendous comfort in the message therein, because I know he meant it once. And I may have to have a little ceremony to mourn his passing so that I can fully respect Yusif Islam for the person he is. Goodbye, Cat Stevens. And thank you.

Well, you cracked the sky
Scrapers fill the air
Will you keep on building higher
'Til there's no more room up there?
Will you make us laugh?
Will you make us cry?
Will you tell us when to live?
Will you tell us when to die?

I know we've come a long way
We're changing day to day
Tell me where do the children play?

If I was psychic, wouldn't I just know it? Why do I need to respond to some random e-mail to tell me how to figure it out?

I would like to send a giant "Welcome to the world!" out to my new honorary niece, Regan Elizabeth, who was born on Friday. I've only seen pictures of her, but she is beautiful. I hope I get to meet you soon!

And congratulations to Mom, Dad, and big brother Alex. I love you all and am so happy for the whole family.

I'm not exactly sure why, but the world is looking a little brighter to me today. Maybe it is because of the lovely, supportive e-mails I have been getting from my friends as of late. You are all exactly right -- I am only human. Thank you for loving me anyway.

Or maybe it is because I know that I will get my big projects done. I just have this weird faith in that.

Or maybe it is because I am starting to get comfortable with the fact that seemingly no matter how many entries I have in here, the counter thingy still says I have 1,109. And yes, I checked, all of my other posts are still there, too.

Or maybe I'm starting to notice once again how blessed I am. I get to experience things that nobody else does. I'm not going to go into complete and total detail here, but suffice it to say, I lead an interesting life. I've always wanted one and I do have one. No, it is not perfect, and no, it's not quite everything I know it could be, but it is still enough that when I'm talking to people at parties, the things that are mundane and old hat to me are interesting and bizarre to everyone else. I take a strange comfort in that.

Whatever it is, I hope you all have a lovely day. Go out and enjoy the beautiful, fresh, crisp fall air. I love this time of year.

I think the key to big challenges is to break them down into bite sized pieces. They're not so scary that way. And of course, keep breathing.

I also think I broke the Blogger counter thingy because it has said that this blog contains 1,109 posts for about two weeks now. Unless it is deleting my early entries because I have reached capacity or something. That would suck. I like some of those early entries. But anyway, yeah. What it boils down to is that I post too much. Oh well.

I guess one of my biggest problems is that I am a guarded person. I think it comes from years and years of being a good listener and letting other people cry on my shoulder. Which I have loved doing. Honestly. There are times when I think I should be a shrink because I love listening to people and offering what support I can in the way that (hopefully) they need it. I think I've gotten pretty good at figuring out when someone just wants to be heard and when they are seeking advice and that kind of thing. I love doing it. Life happens in your interactions with the people around you and I feel blessed that the people around me will open up and share things and I am honored that I am viewed as the strong one who can help, or at the very least listen.

But after years of being seen as the strong one, it's hard to not be strong. And let's face it, there are times when I just don't feel strong. I'm overwhelmed by life just as easily as the next guy and it would be nice sometimes to just be able to let the flood gates open in the general direction of someone I know will catch me, you know? But it can change a relationship when the strong one is now weak. You see that person differently. You might see that person as more human, or, you might start to question whether or not it was wise to lean on this person in the first place. I don't ever want any of my friends to think they can't turn to me. I love being there for them. Often times, it is all I have to offer. But I'm guessing you can see my problem -- if I want them to know they can always turn to me, I fell like I can't always turn to them.

Please, please, please don't take this as a "Kitty is doubting our friendship" thing. I love you guys. I know you love me. I know you would all bend over backwards to help me if I needed it. I love you for that. This is my own personal hang up about asking for help. I'm not comfortable showing everyone my weaknesses. Hence my comment about me being a guarded person.

Which makes me wonder exactly what it is I am afraid will happen if I show my weaknesses? I know I have them. What is so terrible about letting other people know I have them? Will they think less of me? Is it a power thing? Fuck, if anyone is reading this right now, they're getting a full-frontal view of just how insecure I can be. If I'm not strong, I'm worthless. That's fucked up. I need to work on being okay with having weaknesses. I need to work on being okay with needing help from time to time, and with being able to ask for it. It's a hard thing to figure out, though, who you can be weak around and who you can't.

Perfect time for me to have a crisis of faith, huh? Not like I'm not doing anything else right now...

There's nothing to bring up your spirits like getting smacked around a little bit. Really. Okay, well, maybe not really smacked around, but kind of. Stage combat type stuff. This show I'm in right now, I get beaten up because some guy wants my overcoat. Yeah, silly motivation, but just go with it. So he shoves me into a wall and smacks me and kicks me three times. None of it is stuff that actually hurts me. The thing with being the victim in stage combat is that you are completely in control of it. It looks as bad as you make it look. And I make it look painful. I love it. And honestly, the physicality of it, along with the vocalizations, are a great outlet for stress.

So next time you're feeling uber stressed, sign up for a stage combat class and get beaten up for a couple of minutes. No harm, no foul, and you'll walk away feeling energized, yet relaxed, and ready to face whatever else might be in store.

I know it sounds completely silly, but my cat truly is the love of my life. If you've never had a pet, you probably don't understand that, but if you have had one, you might know what I'm saying. It doesn't matter that this other being doesn't speak the same language that you do, the two of you form this bond. You stop seeing your pet as a pet and you start seeing him or her as another family member or your best friend. Well, my cat is one of my favorite people (even though he drives me crazy sometimes) and I love him immensely. He's so funny.

My cat, while constantly starved for attention, is NOT a lap cat. It wasn't until just recently that he would sit still in my lap if I put him there, and even now, he'll only stay for five minutes or so. He likes to be where I am, but not necessarily maintain contact with me at all times. Which brings me to our sleeping habits. Last night, very specifically.

Owen likes to start out the night a certain distance from my head. He started settling in by my feet last night while I was doing a crossword puzzle. When I turned out the lights, he moved up to about my waist, but was still about eight inches away from me on the bed. By five o'clock this morning, he was one inch from my face. I don't know if it was a warmth thing or a comfort thing or what, but I thought it was absolutely adorable. His subtleties in begging for affection.

Okay, I know I sound like a complete dip. But seriously, go adopt a pet from your local shelter and you'll see what I mean. You will never cease to be amazed at how smart your pet is, and you will never stop being entertained by the adorable things he or she does. Or even go spend time with your friend's pets. If you put in more than three minutes with their pets, you'll get to see that this animal has a complete personality all its own, which will make it that much more amazing when she decides to come over and lick your face. And there's nothing better than unconditional affection from your pet.

So I didn't log on yesterday to wish a happy birthday to Moby. Sorry about that, Mo. Though as I'm 100% positive he doesn't read this, I guess it's not that big a deal.

But I do wish a very happy birthday to Moby as I still think he is a credit to the human race. I was sending happy vibes to you all day yesterday.

And today...today I'm trying to get my life in order. Which is really difficult when the sweetest, cutest cat decided to take a nap on your leg.

I thought this was interesting.

So my theater company's annual fundraiser was last night. Well, "annual" meaning we'll do it again next year. And it also means that I spent about three and a half hours as my crazy Floss! character, Kuku. I had so much fun! But that's beside the point.

Other company members were there in character, too, and throughout the night, they got tired of being in character, so they would change their clothes or just simply drop the character. For which, I can't blame them. It was a big, fun, social night and not all of their characters are big, fun, social people, or are able to function in the "real" world. Plus, it takes a lot of energy to maintain a character for that length of time. To maintain their posture and vocal tendencies and attitudes and whatnot. But I did my best to stay in character for the whole thing and a couple of people remarked that they were impressed that I was able to maintain her for that long. One guy asked me at the end of the night if I was exhausted and truth be told, I wasn't. I was envigorated. Which has gotten me thinking about my energy level all day.

I think that in my basic state, I am an extremely energetic, boisterous person. I'm walking around today and I feel like bursting into dance like Kuku does. But I know that it is not socially acceptable for me to do so, so I don't. And it actually takes more energy to fight those impulses that it does to let them go. Which may sound strange, but I think it's true. And it is also why I function better when I have eight million things going on at the same time. If I have somewhere to put my energy, if I am allowed to explore it, then it is endless. If I have no outlet for my energy, it all stagnates and I get tired and don't feel like doing anything.

I wonder what my life would be like if I could just follow my whims of energy. You know, if I could be five years old again. Sing when I want to. Dance when the spirit moves me. Color or sew until my fingers are raw. What kind of stuff would I create with all of the time in the world and nothing holding me back? Is that the dream of every artist? And where is all of this energy coming from in the first place? And to give this whole entry a kind of downer finish, how sad is it that so much of it is wasted in an office?

Have you ever woken up while you're still asleep? I mean, really. I know it doesn't really count as waking up unless you were already asleep, but every once in a while, even though you are up and moving, you're still fast asleep. Your body is suddenly sixteen times heavier than you remember it being, most of the new weight existing in your eyelids and rhombencephalon. And your conscious brain knows that it is time to get up and take a shower and that maybe some caffeine would be a good idea today, but your body is still far off in dream land and your floor is suddenly covered in beautiful spring grass and the sun is shining and the air smells like tulips and isn't that your boyfriend over there, who for some reason looks like Paul Schaffer? And you decide to stop watching Letterman before you go to bed and how did you get into the kitchen when you were just in a meadow listening to crazy jazz music that was coming out of the buttercups? And you don't really wake up until you turn on the water in the shower only to discover that the hot water heater hasn't kicked in yet this morning and the harsh reality of the fact that you have to be at work in an hour hits you and makes you want to cry. Or at the very least, go back to bed. You'd even date Paul Schaffer if you could just go back to bed.

Yeah, me neither.

Can I get an A?

A!!!

Can I get two Ls?

L!!! L!!!

Can I get an ERGIES?

ERGIES!!!

What does it spell?

Allergies!

What does it spell?

Allergies!!!

I can't hear you!!!

ALLERGIES!!!

WOOOOOOO!!!

Yeah, if only they were that much fun.

And so begins the busy. The so super crazy busy I probably won't have a day to myself until November. Which is maybe a good thing. If I have too many things going on mentally and no projects in which to immerse myself, I'll sit and think and think and think and think and think and think about all of them at the same time until suddenly it all makes perfect sense that I should throw cakes off my roof while in my pajamas crying out, "But if only we all had pogo sticks, none of this would have happened!" And as fun as that is, it's a terrible waste of cakes. And pajama time. Pajama time should not be spent screaming on roof tops. It should be spent eating oatmeal and snuggling with the cat. But it's okay because I have so many projects right now that I need to focus on that I probably won't have a minute to myself until November, at which point all of this swirling crap in my head will have sorted itself out because most of it will have just become a non-issue. I'll go back to loving the fact that my job takes no brain power because I won't have any to spare. The boys who currently want to date me will have given up by then. We'll have a new President. I'll be used to missing my friend.

So I may be incoherent for a while (because what welcomes an insanely busy spell better than a nice night of insomnia, right?), but at the very least, it should be entertaining for you. And I'm warning you right now, in a couple of days, I'll probably post another "Moby is so wonderful" entry because his birthday is coming up. If I can still remember my own name by then...

And creeping like the nasty little buggers that they are, the germs invade my throat and make speaking and swallowing a chore. Well, speaking is often times a chore for me, but now moreso than on a normal day. I'm drinking echinacea and cold care teas, hoping this doesn't make it impossible for me to play on Friday. Wouldn't that be just my luck? I think they have a new manager type guy at that place now, too, and he's never seen me play, so it would make perfect sense if I show up there to play two hours worth of music and I sound like I did at my first gig back in February. Wow. February. I've played a lot since then. Perhaps not as much as I could have or should have, but I've played a lot. I need to be playing more. Mostly just because I like to play. It's good for my soul.

But back on topic. Mother Nature, how are you? You seem a little...off as of late. We had spring through August here in Chicago, and about two days of summer over Labor Day weekend and now it feels a little fall-like. And all of the hurricanes and typhoons that have been happening lately. Are you okay? Do you need to chat with someone? I'm here if you want to talk.

Or maybe our planet is moving further away from the sun. A very slow process, but one that is bound to happen, right? Wait, is the Universe expanding or contracting right now? I think we're just about to hit the peak of expansion, and then we'll start collapsing back in on ourselves. So an orbit that used to take 365.25 days is now taking closer to 367. And with our antiquated calendars, the leap year dealie every four years just isn't making that time up. We should beef up February on a yearly basis and maybe we'd catch up to where Mother Nature wants to be climate-wise. Because 1.75 days every year builds up after a couple hundred years. And then when the Universe begins to collapse again, they can take those days out of the calendar so we stay on schedule. And a million years from now (or a few thousand at least), maybe they'll be down to 28 day months all across the board. Or, maybe by that point, humans will have figured out that an arbitrary system of keeping time is kind of silly and they will have figured out a better method for it all together.

I have to say...I'm a good actor. I should do that more often.

I freaked out at work. I've been all prepared to do one more year there and then get out of there, but today, I was convinced that I'll have to be gone by then end of the month. That's not a good feeling. It throws off all of my plans by several thousand dollars. Needless to say, I got nothing done and I came home feeling like shit. So I'm having a totally self-indulgent evening. I'm wearing my favorite sarong, I've got my hair in pigtails, I bought a bottle of wine, and I'm watching a movie that I'm in. It's making me feel much better about being me. I'm thinking about the show I get to play next Friday. I'm thinking about the fact that everything will be okay because I'm the kind of person for whom things eventually work out. Yes, they will be tough for a while, but I'm not going to die. I'm not going to go hungry. I will always find ways to make art which is what makes me truly happy and if I have to live in less than favorable conditions for a little while, well, that's fodder for new material.

It could be the wine talking, but things will be okay. I don't know if you heard of a television show wherein a particularly unattractive man is trying to convince a family that he is going to marry their daughter. Well, the particularly obnoxious fellow is in this very same film that I am watching right now. If he can do it, I can do it. I am intelligent, I am reliable, I learn fast. I will be okay, regardless of what happens with my job that I don't care about anyway.

I want to apologize for the sort of sad state of my blog entries as of late. There's been a lot of crap going on recently that I have wanted to talk about but kind of sort of can't. But it comes down to these things:

There is a lot of turmoil in my job right now. Well, not necessarily my job per se, but in my workplace. Reorganization and speculation and whatnot and nobody knows what's going on or when we might know what's going on and it's like I've been working in a ghost town for the last month. It's really weird, and hard to come in here every day. Harder than usual. So I've been thinking about not coming in anymore. As in leaving. And I am trying to figure out ways in which that would be financially viable for me, and at the same time, I'm thinking about all of the things I could/should give up in order to make that financially viable for me. It's not a lot of fun to sit around thinking about leaving a home you love and giving up a car you love and selling your books and clothes and movies you haven't watched in forever so that you can leave a job you hate and become a production assistant whore, working night and day for $200 a week. If that. So I've got that going on.

There are a couple of guys out there who want to date me. I don't want to date them. I keep promising myself that I won't date again until I meet someone who just blows me away. I've met two of those guys, maybe three, in my life, so I know I'll meet another one someday. And I know really quickly if a guy is one who blows me away or not. I just do. Call me picky, but I know. So why do I keep disappointing myself and letting myself be wooed by these guys who I'm not really interested in? I feel like a sell out and it makes me miserable. I honestly am happier by myself than I am in a relationship that I don't really care about. Not to say that these guys who want to date me aren't great guys. They are wonderful human beings. I know they're not mine. That's it. And it is hard for me to motivate myself to go out of my way to include them in my life when I know it is just temporary and going to end in heartache on both sides anyway. So I've got that going on.

I'm in limbo on two of the three shows I'm supposed to be working on and I'm largely in the dark on third. There is some stuff I can do on the third show right now, so that's a good thing. But the other two...one starts rehearsals on Tuesday, so that's a good thing. But it's irritating to have these projects dangling in front of me that I know will take a lot of time, effort, and energy and to be completely unable to do anything about them. I can't even start. So I've got that going on.

And then there's the political bullshit. Which is exactly what it is. Bullshit. Our current president is making me so angry I can't even watch him speak. I know that politicians are not known for their honesty, but this guy is ridiculous. He's trying to take credit for doing things right which he has very obviously done wrong. Like running this country. And what infuriates me even more than the fact that he is allowed to leave his house in the morning is the fact that there are millions of people out there who still think he is doing a good job and who plan on voting for him in November. People who are otherwise intelligent, productive citizens would rather vote for a lying hypocrite than stand up for themselves and say, "No, you've done a bad job so you don't get another chance." People who I am related to. I can't tell you how sad that makes me. So I've got that going on.

And add on top of that the old journal entries I wrote that I reread a couple of nights ago. They were really good. And now my blogs are just filled with drivel. I feel like I don't have that creative spark anymore. Which I know isn't true -- look at the body of musical work I have produced. Look at the play I am writing. Look at the characters I create on stage. But I find myself disappointed in the decidely journal-like appearance of this blog, as opposed to the writing experiments appearance of my old journals. I need to start writing fiction again. So I've got that going on.

So I apologize for the sad state of my blogs as of late. I have a lot going on that is difficult to talk about. It will all come to a resolution very soon (I hope). Or maybe I'll just move to Holland and worry about all of it there.

If you put it like this, it all makes perfect sense.

I'd like to toot my own horn for a minute, if that's okay. Actually, it's more of an "I need to toot my own horn for a minute" thing. We all have bouts of self-doubt. Goes with being human. I've been finding little tidbits to pull me out of those bouts recently, and I want to share them so that a year from now, when I come back and read this, I can say, "Oh, yeah. I am pretty cool." So here goes.

I pulled out one of my old journals over the weekend because I wanted to write in the back of it. I'm working on a children's play. But anyway, I, of course, went back and read some of the stuff that was in there and damn, I'm a good writer. I have a great imagination and a wonderful command of the English language. I am a good storyteller.

Which brings me to the children's play. The more people I tell about it, the more excited I am to write it. And the more excited I am to direct it next fall. I think I am going to put on a good children's show.

The more music I listen to by little indie bands or solo artists, the more I realize that yes, I am one of the good ones. I have a nice voice. I can carry a tune. I'm on pitch and on or behind the beat as necessary. I write interesting songs.

I am a good actor. I can create a character from virtually nothing who has her own mind and opinions to the point where I, as Kitty, am often unaware of what's going on until someone tells me about it later. Okay, maybe that's a sign that I'm schitzophrenic, but it makes me a fun performer.

I am an intellient person. I know a lot of things, and I'm always learning more. I am good at expressing my ideas verbally and in writing and I can carry on an interesting conversation with just about anyone I meet.

I am an attractive person. If dating comes in feat and famine cycles, I am in the middle of a feast. Truth be told, I don't want to be as none of the guys really WOW me and I don't really have the time to date anyone right now, but rest assured, dear Kitty, you are attractive and people do like you.

So I have a lot of things going for me. No matter what happens in my life, I know I'll be okay. And I know that very soon, I will get to do only the things that make me happy and I won't have to spend so much time being miserable.

A very dear friend of mine is moving away soon. There is a difference between my friends who are just switching apartments now and this friend who is moving away. It will take five hours in the car to go visit this friend. It doesn't seem like a lot, but that's really far away. And it makes me sad that he's leaving.

I understand completely why he's going. Hell, I wrote a song about it. And I wish him luck in his adventures. It just...makes me sad that he's leaving. We talk semi-sporadically as it is, and I only seem him a couple of times a month, if that. It's just different when your really good friend lives in another state. I know we'll still be friends. I'm not worried about that. And I know that when I do see him, we'll get along just as well as we do now -- like no time has passed. Ours is one of those relationships. It'll just be weird to not have him here.

Good luck to you, my dear friend. I know I'll talk to you soon. I'll miss you terribly when you're gone.