So I don't know that I believe in resolutions as such, but I do have a couple of promises that I want to make to myself that I'm putting in here in the hopes that this will inspire me to keep them, and/or will get you guys on my case to make sure I keep them.

I promise to be nice to myself on a regular basis, even if it costs money, and even if it means staying home on a Friday night when there are a million things I could be out doing, if I feel like staying in. I've kind of lost track of this whole being nice to me thing and as an introvert, as a person, I think it is important. So I promise to be nice to me on a regular basis.

I promise to not let some guy have so much influence over my self esteem and self image. Anyone who would try to belittle or destroy that doesn't deserve to know me. He is most likely intimidated and scared and doesn't know how to handle it other than by making those around him feel small. I need to remember that and remember that it's his problem, not mine. I'm not going to say there is nothing wrong with me because I know there's plenty wrong with me, but I also know that I am an amazing person and I deserve better. I deserve someone who knows that and isn't afraid of it.

I promise to not let my house get so cluttered anymore. It's driving me crazy. I'm thinking of tackling the problem on New Year's day as part of the hangover solution. I'll totally be in the mood to throw things out.

So yeah, that's it. I hope whatever you guys are doing that you have a very happy and safe new year. I want to be able to talk to you all for many years to come, so be safe, okay? Promise? Groovy.

So I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas, whether or not you choose to celebrate it. If you don't, I hope you had a lovely Monday.

After my 27-hour family gatherings galore ordeal, I finally got home last night to (drum roll please) no heat! That's right, the heat went out. Again. So I called. Again. And nobody called me back. Again. And I called this morning. Again. And the heat finally came on at about 6pm this evening. It's not cranking out very hard, either. It was 57 degrees in here before the heat came on and now, six hours of heat later and it's only 66. I'm thinking I may have to tell them that in all of their trying to fix my radiators by adjusting the valves, that they actually broke one of them. And that I'm not paying for any more unheated days in my place. I sent them the letter laying out the Chicago Municipal Code and it's requirements and how they have failed to meet said requirements, as I'm supposed to. Now it's time for me to take advantage of the remedies prescribed in the Code.

I'm so not looking forward to the rest of the winter.

That, and I'm sick. We're talking three or four Kleenexes to blow my nose kind of sick, and we all know how much I hate blowing my nose. So I'm loading up on vitamin C and zinc, hoping that will help me feel not like crap soon. In the meantime, I'm all about lentils and tea and sitting on my couch piled high with blankets.

Whereever you are, I hope you're warm and not sniffly.

Okay, political crap. Which do you think the general American population is more prepared for, a female president or an African American president? See, I'd most likely vote for either Hilary or Barack if they are nominated, but I'm wondering if this is the best time in American history to make history, if you know what I mean. Even if the democratic candidate is WAY more qualified than the republican candidate, will people vote for the democrat if it is a woman? Or an African American man? I don't know. I know a lot of people who are pulling for either candidate to announce candidacy, and I kind of have to include myself in their ranks. I just hope that if either one of them gets the democratic nomination, it doesn't blow up in our faces, you know? Please let people in general be more accepting than I think they probably are.

So I could talk about politics or the weather or how this drop of oil I ingested today seems to be helping the sore throat I was developing, but seeing as it is almost Christmas, I want to talk about Christmas for a minute.

First off, I'm sorry if any of you are offended by Christmas or my discussion thereof. I know a lot of different people celebrate a lot of different holidays this time of year and I hope that whatever one you happen to be celebrating, that is it wonderful and joyous for you and that you feel safe and warm and loved throughout the season.

But for me, Christmas is coming at exactly the wrong time this year. I have too much going on to take a day or two out of all of it and, I dunno, have Christmas. Which is ludicrous because what I really need more than anything is a day or two off. Out of it all. Christmas is not relaxing for me. I don't know that it ever was. Maybe when I was little, but it hasn't been probably since my parents got divorced and I had to start doing the two houses thing. And then when I moved out of my parent's place, it got worse - it turned into a 24-36 hour ordeal. And then when I became vegan, it became a 24-36 hour ordeal with lots of stuff to schlep around. So to be perfectly honest, I don't look forward to Christmas. No matter how thoughtful the gifts I give people might be, I still never think they are enough. No matter how well prepared I think I am, I always forget something. And yet, no matter how much I mess it up, my friends and family continue to love me. How cool is that?

And this year, playing at the sammich shop, I've been getting requests for holiday songs. I play some funny ones and some not funny ones. And I have to say that I think my current favorite Christmas carol is "Little Drummer Boy." No, I've not had good experiences with drummers in the past, but I'm looking past that at the meaning of this song. A little boy has no gift to give Jesus except the gift of music that he himself made. And it is perfect. I dunno. Maybe it's speaking to me because I'm a musician. Maybe it speaks to me because I often feel like what I have to give is not enough, but those around me continue to insist that I give more than they could ever want. Even if all I have to give is me.

Thank you. I love you. And I wish you a very merry Christmas.

Okay, so let's say person A is of one gender and is typically attracted to persons of the same gender that person B happens to be. Let us also say that person B is of one gender and is typically attracted to persons of the same gender that person A happens to be. Now, if person A and person B are both single, is it safe to assume that either person would be very happy and flattered by the other person saying something along the lines of, "Hey. I think you are really neat and quite attractive?" I think that in general, that is a nice thing to hear, if it is coming from a single person of the gender you happen to be attracted to. Even if said person is thousands of miles away.

So why is it still so friggin' hard to say?

Hey. I think you are really neat and quite attractive.

Of course, you don't know who you is, so chances are (and I'm sorry about this) that it's not you. I do love you all, my readers. But that last bit was to a specific you and now that I've said it, I can get past it, and nobody has to feel awkward about anything because you don't know who you is.

Dude, I wasn't even really drinking tonight. One beer. After lots of food, so it had little to no effect on me. Maybe it's the caffeine talking. Or the fact that I got to sing "Me and Bobby McGee" in a piano bar for my friend for her birthday and I rocked it. I was all gravelly and sexy and stuff. Not quite Janis, but pretty darn close. I really do love covering that song. I hope it is public domain so that I won't get sued for singing it in public, because really, I sing it out of respect for Ms. Joplin and a love for the song, and even out of respect for Kris Kristofferson. It's a great tune. And so much fun to sing. If I'm not allowed to sing it in public anymore, find me privately and I'll sing it for you (and this time, I mean any/all of you) because I have to say, I do rock the Bobby McGee.

Okay, going to bed now.

I took a mental day today. I needed a mental day. Besides the fact that I hadn't had a day off since sometime mid-September, I'm thinking, I have to say that it gets stressful to not know what's going on in your life. I have a lot on my plate, between work and band stuff and band stuff and theater stuff and work, but the middle three things on that list haven't set any kinds of schedules yet and frankly, it's getting to me. I want to hang out with my friends, but I can't really make plans more than an hour ahead of time because I don't know if I'm going to be needed elsewhere. It's a little bit annoying.

So I took a mental day today. I didn't leave my house. I made a couple of phone calls, mostly resulting in voice mail messages. I didn't do anything to my hair, besides wash it and put it in a ponytail. I didn't put in my contacts. I didn't put on any make up. I didn't put on my jewelry or a belt, even. I finished reading the sixth Harry Potter book (I'm finally caught up!) which is now six days overdue at the library, but I figured I can give them an extra ten cents and return it tomorrow. I didn't finish my Christmas shopping, but I did (I think) make a decent list of what I still need to get to give to people. But I needed this. I needed my day. I'm an introvert, damn it! I need time spent not talking to people. I need a day wherein I can nap on my couch with my cat on my stomach. And so I took it today. I'm sorry if it inconvenienced anyone, but as an introvert, I needed my recharge day.

All will be better tomorrow.

Or not.

But here's hoping it will be.

OH! And happy birthday to my Bostonian guy friend. You are and always will be one of my absolute favorite people. I just wish you lived closer. I love you, sweetheart, and hope you had a wonderful day.

So I was watching this birthday party at the sammich shop where I work today. It was very obvious who the birthday girl was, and it was glaringly obvious that she is an introvert. There was another little girl at the party who was very obviously an extrovert, and who was obviously the favorite amongst that particular group of friends. There was one other girl in the group with introverted tendencies, and she and the birthday girl ended up sitting next to each other chatting while all of the rest of the girls crowded around the extrovert and made lot of noise.

I want to say happy birthday to the introvert. And I did. I sang happy birthday to her.

I also want to tell her that it gets better. I had that same birthday party a million times, where all of my friends were talking to each other and not to me, even though it was my party. I want to tell her to hang onto her introvert friend because they will go far and be amazing women when they grow up. I want to tell her to not hate the extrovert because honestly, she doesn't know any better.

I want to tell the birthday girl's parents that they did a good job. They took home a little girl who felt like an outsider at her own party. There really isn't anything they could do about that. To not throw a party would make this girl a social pariah. To throw her a party with extroverts makes her an outcast. Six of one, half dozen of the other. I want the birthday girl's parents to know that it's okay. They did a good job with the party and all of the other girls are going to go home and talk about what a great time they had, and they will all think that your daughter has the best parties. It's just going to take her a while to be able to enjoy them in the same way.

I want to tell the extroverted girl that it would be really nice of her if she could make her friend's birthday about her friend and not about herself.

Happy birthday, little introvert. Someday, if you want to, you get to be just like me. And that's a good thing. I promise.

I can't believe Christmas is only about a week away. I feel so non Christmasy this year. Last year, if you'll remember, I was all about it. This year, it's more of an inconvenience than anything. I'm sorry if that's offensive.

And it looks like I'm going to have to change the template for this blog. It served me well for a very long time, but now that there's this new fancy schmancy version of Blogger out there, my old gray blocks template doesn't work anymore. *sigh*

Here's hoping 2007 is better.

We are a culture obsessed with plastic bags and frankly, it kind of makes me sick. If I go into a drug store and buy contact lens solution and a pair of tweezers, I don't need them in separate bags, and I don't need the one bag in which both items are placed to be double bagged. You know why people started making so much stuff out of plastic? Because it's strong! They make cars out of plastic, for crying out loud, and you trust them to protect you from wind and rain and other cars while you're speeding along at 65 miles per hour, but you don't trust one plastic bag to be able to support the weight of an orange? It has to be double bagged in order for you to feel safe? I'm sorry, but that's ludicrous.

I do have to say that I like the stores that now have their own self check out thingys (they're probably refered to as "kiosks," but I'm not a big fan of that word. It smacks of corporate brainwashing) because as I bag my items, I can use as few bags as I want. I can put all twelve cans of cat food in a single bag, and throw a new toothbrush on top, if I so choose.

Seriously. I went to the fabric store the other day to buy some notions and a bit of fabric. The cashier rung up the fabric, put it in a bag, and put the bag to the side, like he was going to put the notions in a completely separate bag. Wait, what? Are you telling me that the plastic bags at this particular store are so flimsy that they can't handle a yard of cotton fabric and two spools of thread? What? So I told him that everything could go in the same bag, that I gave him permission to not be wasteful, and he was shocked. Shocked. Like what a preposterous idea that I only need one bag to carry my four ounces of purchases. Ridiculous.

I guess what I'm saying is that we've all become wusses. They made plastic bags to be strong. Yes, occasionally one will rip if you're carrying a knife point-side down in it. But that doesn't mean each item I buy needs its own bag. Look at what you're buying, people, and conserve. And then, once you get your bags home and empty them, take them back to the store to be recycled. The proliferation of plastic bags is disturbing. They're going to take over the planet someday, and I, for one, don't want to answer to a plastic bag overlord.

Seacrest out.

A friend of mine lost her father yesterday. He had been sick for a long time, so it's kind of one of those "better in the long run" things, and on the positive side, they saw it coming so she was able to be with him a lot towards the end. But I can't imagine losing my father. My heart goes out to my friend and her family.

I'm so sorry for your loss, sweetheart.

There are times when I think that all I want out of life is to be able to eat tomatoes every day.

Hey.

So yeah, I've been a slacker at keeping this up to date. Sorry about that. I'm still trying to figure out the best internet routine now that I'm working pretty much every day of my life. I'm not complaining -- I do like being busy. I could use a day, though, to just clean my house and record songs and stuff. Maybe soon. Or I'll have to bother my neighbors and record stuff late at night.

Let's see, what's been going on? My heat has been on for about a week now. I figured out, though, that even with it on, it gets cold in my place because I just have single-pane glass windows and no storm windows, so I put that plastic stuff over my living room windows, much to my cat's chagrin. He tried to jump up onto the window sill and bounced off the plastic. Sounded like someone beating a drum. I felt bad, but in retrospect, it makes me think that if I could get a microphone in my living room, I could use the window drums in a song or two. Maybe. Just a thought. And no, I wouldn't hit them with my cat -- I'd use a spoon or a chopstick or something.

And I got to hang out with my Texas friend this weekend and I met her husband. It was so lovely. Though it mostly made me wish that they lived closer (or I lived closer to them) because face time is a really wonderful thing with people like them. We talked about anything and everything and had a lot of fun. And I really like being able to hug my friends. People underestimate the value of a good hug, but lemme tell you, there's nothing like it.

And I wrote a new song. Kind of. I'm still tweaking some of the lyrics and I think it's a song that needs a little more as far as production value. Almost Bowie type production value. In other words, it's kind of weird, which is maybe why I want to do something that I never do and name the song after the person about whom it was written. And not with some crazy nickname, but with his actual name. Granted, he went by a crazy nickname, so if I call the song by his birth certificate name, people still won't know who it is. And it's such a common name that it could be any one of a million people, but I can pretty much guarantee that if you think you know who it's about, you're wrong. But I really want to lay it down, even just a scratch track to put up on MySpace 'cuz it's kind of unusual, even for me.

Anyway. I should go. I have an interview to get to (I'm the interviewer). But I do miss you guys and I miss posting and I'll try to be better about keeping up with it. Promise.

Hey.

Lots going on that I really want to tell you about, but I don't think I can yet, so I'm going to keep my mouth shut for the moment.

I do want to say, though, that my heat went out for the FIFTH TIME yesterday. It stopped around noon, I'd say, and didn't come back on until about noon today, after I called and asked them to. It got down to sixty degrees in my place. Which sounds like a lovely spring day, yes. But when in your tenant's handbook, it asks that when you go on vacation, please don't turn your heat down below fifty-five degrees or it could cause damage to the plumbing, you start to think when the thermometer hits sixty that it's time to turn the heat back on. But it is on now. I just want to make sure it was documented that I went ANOTHER 24-hour period of time without heat. On a morning when I woke up and it was NINE DEGREES outside. NINE. Not even double digits. That would seem to warrant heat. Or maybe I'm crazy. I don't know. The really fun part was when I called the Emergency line, the woman who answered stressed "emergency" as if a whole bunch of people had been calling all day saying things like, "My neighbor's dog is too loud," or "My kitchen needs to be painted." When I said, "Yeah, I have no heat," she rather apologetically took my information. And then when the maintenance guy called me back, he, too, sounded like he'd been asked to spend the day fetching errant frisbees off of the roof and when I said, "Yeah, my heat went out yesterday. It didn't come on last night and it didn't come on this morning," he snapped to attention and said he'd get someone out to fix it today. And to his credit, someone did fix it today (though for how long, I don't know). I just thought it was funny that I seemingly had the magic words to make these people do their jobs. I'm thinking if my heat had just shut off after being on for a couple of hours, they would have ignored me. Or if someone broke one of my windows, they would have gotten to it whenever. But since my HEAT went out YESTERDAY, they felt they had to take care of it now.

People are funny.

Okay, I lied. There's more.

I'm wondering, and maybe if there is an architect out there in the audience, maybe you can tell me: do they teach you in architect school that when you're designing the bathroom in a house, that you should put the air vent in the floor right next to the toilet so that using the toilet on cold days is particularly nice? If so, that's a damn fine education you're getting. If not, keep in mind next time you design a bathroom. Your client will love it.

Hi.

Tired.

That's pretty much it.

How are you?

Hey.

The heat came on all by itself today. I was really excited.

I dunno. I think I'm having another attack of the brown eyed monster or something because I'm wondering at what point does one surrender what one loves in favor of what one is good at? Even if one is good at what one loves, at what point does it go on the back burner in favor of one's responsibilities?

I started late. I think that's my problem. I started following my dream when I already had a responsible life built up around me, instead of doing it when I was more amenable to settling for less. And now that I'm trying to follow it, I'm so frickin' far behind everyone else. And it's hard. And it's expensive. And once, just once, I'd really like a break. Something big. Not something that could lead to something somewhere down the road, but something that really IS something. Just for me. She says in her best Ron Howard in The Music Man voice. But I'm serious. Something big for me musically. Something big for me theatrically. Something big for me personally. Any of these arenas would be fine. Just something big that is something big for me. I'm ready for it. I'm waiting for it. I know it's not coming, but I'm hoping and working as hard as I can to make it happen and I'm afraid it's just not enough. So I ask you, at what point does one surrender what one loves in favor of what one is good at? At what point does one surrended what one loves in favor of stability?

I am kind of flattered that my new boss (a very successful businessman, by the way) sees pieces of himself in me. I see pieces of my high school friend who lives in California who I know reads this (hi!) in him, but that's beside the point. The main difference is that at some point, he realized that he gets just as much of a rush putting together a business deal as he did making music. I don't. I get the biggest rush from performing. For me, there is nothing in the world like it. Nothing. I'm okay being sleep deprived and eating funky stuff and being single as long as I'm performing. That's where it is for me. Performing brings me my highest highs and my lowest lows. You can probably tell, I'm in a bit of a low right now. But I know it'll all go away as soon as I'm back on stage. I'm not ready to give that up yet.

I need to stop saying I'm a mediocre guitar player at best. I play pretty well. Not lead, but I'm a pretty good rhythm guitarist. I need to start giving myself credit for that.

And I need something big. Soon.

Or a financier who will pay me to create and perform. That'd be okay, too.

Still cold.

But I forgot one more thing I'm thankful for: I'm thankful that I'm no longer in a relationship with someone who was only with me because I was there and he doesn't know how to be alone. I realize that might seem like a bitter, spiteful thing to say, but it's a big step for me to say that it wasn't my fault. There isn't anything wrong with the way I handled that situation; it was doomed from the get-go because he wasn't really in it.

I'm not saying there's nothing wrong with me that would prevent someone from wanting to date me. There's plenty wrong with me. But in that particular situation, there wasn't anything right with me except proximity. No matter what, I would have been screwed. Oh well.

Hope you're all warm.

Happy Thanksgiving, kids!

How about a nice laundry list?

I am thankful for my family. They are wonderful, loving, generous people and I am lucky to have them.
I am thankful for my friends. You guys keep me going on a daily basis with your love and support.
I am thankful for my cat, even when he's driving me crazy. He's the reason I get up in the morning.
I am thankful for my music. Nothing soothes my soul like picking up a guitar and playing, whether it is to a room full of people or just to my own four walls.
I am thankful for my theater. There is nothing like the rush of performance and the friendships you make working on a show, and knowing that whatever choices you make, they're okay and you're still safe.
I am thankful for my health.
I am thankful for tofurkey.
I am thankful for chocolate and fruits and vegetables and lentils.
I am thankful for my brain.

But right now, I am decidedly NOT thankful for my apartment as this is the FOURTH TIME IN A MONTH that my heat has gone out for more than 24 hours. Granted, it's not as cold as it could be. We're still up into the forties or low fifties during the day. But it's dropping into the twenties and thirties at night and let's just say it -- it gets cold in here. I've called the regular line. I've talked to maintenance. I've talked to the building manager. I've called the emergency line so many times, I'm surprised they haven't blocked my number. I've talked to the maintenance guy. Nobody seems to know why my heat only works for about two days at a time, and nobody seems to care that my heat only works for about two days at a time. So I'm going to have to invoke my tenant's rights and deduct money from my monthly rent payment. I have been without heat for eight of the last 30 days. That's just not acceptable.

So whereever you are, I hope you are having a happy and safe Thanksgiving and that if it is necessary, that your heat is working. Being cold is miserable.

You guys know that I love you, right? I'm not sure if I say it often enough, but I do. Thank you for reading my drivel. Thanks for sending comments on it. Just thanks.

Though I still love my cat more than you. Even when his breath smells like cat food. He's just so friggin' cute!

Sorry.

Do I intimidate you? Seriously. When you first started reading this, were you intimidated? Have you become more or less intimidated as you've continuted to read?

I'm just curious because to me, anyway, there is a big difference between introverted and intimidating and while I see myself as very much the former, it seems that a lot of people see me as very much the latter. Which amuses me almost to no end. So yeah, just wondering.

Gotta go party now. w00t.

Here's how I would have liked the conversation to go:

"Why were you driving on the medium?"
"On the what?"
"The medium."
"Excuse me?"
"The medium."
"What's a medium?"
"The part of the road in between the lanes of traffic going in opposite directions. The medium."
"Oh, the median."
"Right, the medium."
"Median."
"Why were you driving on the medium?"
"I wasn't. I was driving on the median."
"The what?"
"The median. There is no such thing as the medium of the road. The word is median."
"That's what I said, medium."
"No, you're saying 'medium,' as in 'not large or small, but in between.' It's a descriptor, not a noun. A person can't really drive on a descriptor."
"Just tell me why you were driving on the medium."
"I wasn't."
"Yes you were. I saw you."
"I was driving on the median."
"Yes, on the medium."
"Do you also have an uncle named Who?"
"What?"
"No, Who. The man at first base."
"What?"
"No, he's at second."
"Who?"
"First base."
"What?"
"Nevermind. Can I go?"
"..."
"Thank you."

That would have been much funnier.

So I haven't been online at all since Thursday. Largely because I've had a busy weekend. But yeah, not online at all since Thursday. And you know what? I only kind of missed it.

I'm sorry, oh great Interweb! I didn't mean it! I've missed you terribly!

See, the thing is this. My new job, I spend pretty much the whole time with my boss. Which is fine. He's really cool. But me, being an introvert, I get kind of cashed out on people by the time I get home and, well, I mostly want to not talk to people when I get home. I want to play my guitar or spend time with my cat or read or something. So I've not been popping online as much just to cruise around and shoot the shit. And for that, I apologize.

I will tell you that I have a very bizarre bruise on my right thigh, though. It's bizarre in that not only do I have no idea how I got it, but also in that it looks like someone dipped a field mouse's paws in red and purple paint and set him loose in a very small pen on my thigh. Or like I sneezed blood and grape jelly in a very concentrated area on my thigh and now it won't wash off. It doesn't even hurt. It's just an odd, spotty discoloration on my thigh from no known cause. And to make things even more confusing, my left calf muscle has been sore for a couple of days, but has no visible marks on it. Yeah, I'm not put together right.

WANTED: Boy Toy

aka, Cabana Boy

Requirements:
Must have at least three years experience being a companion to women.
Must have body that makes me drool, but doesn't make me feel bad about my own.
Must understand that Cabana Boy duties do not always include sex; sometimes intense make-out sessions are as far as it will go.
Must be able to converse on at least a twelfth grade level.
Must enjoy music and movies.
Must be sightly dumber than I am so I can feel good about the fact that you have the better body but I have the better mind.
Must treat me like a gentleman in public.
Must not treat me like a gentleman in private. Unless that's what I want that day.
Must not get emotionally involved.
Must not expect me to get emotionally involved.
Must be willing to disappear completely in a certain amount of time, to be determined at the interview or shortly thereafter.
Must...

Nevermind. This really doesn't sound like that much fun anymore. Except for the "so hot he makes me drool" bit. But let him have a brain. Let him have his own opinion and his own life and all that crap. And let him be crazy about me. And let me be crazy about him. Is that really too much to ask?

Sadly, I think it is. Sometimes, I really think it is.

It looks like yesterday was a great day for the Democrats. Yay! Which will hopefully mean better years to come for the whole country. And with any luck, another regime change in two years. Yay! And bye-bye, Rummy. You won't really be missed.

Politics aside...I do feel the need to say one thing about the elections yesterday. I didn't vote in them. I didn't have time. I honestly wanted to, even if it was going to be a partisan ballot, I really wanted to vote. It's important to vote, to let your opinions be known. I hope all of you went out and voted, whomever you voted for. I just honestly didn't have time. Left my house in a rush at 8am and didn't get home (or hardly a moment to myself) until after 8pm. Such is the life of a part-time worker and musician.

I still love my job. I do kind of miss not having a day job already, but as far as day jobs go, this is a good one to have. My boss actually listens to his employees. Can you imagine? I've had ideas about stuff that I never should have had ideas about and if I express them, he listens and evaluates and sometimes even takes my suggestions. How cool is that? We went to a seminar today and afterwards, all three of us who went sat and bounced ideas off of each other and talked about ways the seminar did and didn't apply to our work. How often does an employee who has only been with the company for a week get to be in on brainstorming sessions? How often does an employee who has only been with the compay for a week get asked what he/she needs in order to do his/her job more efficiently, and how often are those needs actually addressed? Maybe my experience with the corporate world up to this point hasn't been what it should be or could be or sometimes is, but I'm thinking this stuff isn't typical. And I love it. An atypical day job for an atypical woman. How perfect?

But it's keeping me busy. Very busy. Which means I might get tired of it some day. Not quite yet, though.

Other news...hmmm...I wrote a song that has a very crass verse. I didn't set out to write a crass verse, it just happened. The song itself is about some of the very wrong things people have said to me and how I have to not let that stuff get to me, so the crassness just kind of happened. But it's the kind of crass where even if the rest of the album was about puppy dogs and rainbows, they'd have to put the explicit lyrics sticker on the album and maybe check kids' IDs to see if they are old enough to hear that kind of stuff. I'm a little bit embarrassed about it, but I also kind of love it. Because really crass things have been said to me and I have to remember that that's not what I'm about. Anyway.

Yeah. It's not really fun to give my cat noogies, 'cuz he likes them.

Damn, I'm tired.

It's kind of strange to have gone from working two days a week to working six days a week. And thinking about work even when I'm not there. Don't get me wrong, I still like the new job. It's just strange. It's Saturday night and I'm thinking I should go out drinking because tomorrow is the first day in a very long time that I've had nothing I have to do. Not that that stopped me from drinking before, but you know what I mean. It's nice to spend an evening with your friends and not have to worry about getting home at a certain time to make sure you get enough sleep.

Last night may have been the first time I really felt like a member of the band. Which sounds awful, I know. And a lot of it has to do with the fact that I am an introvert, so I never assume anyone wants me anywhere. I actually assume nobody wants me anywhere unless they specifically invite me. Anyway. Last night I was able to contribute and since I had been practicing, I sounded pretty good. I think. And if nothing else, I actually felt like it was good that I was there. It's nice to feel like a musician, you know? Especially when that's what you're trying to do with your life.

I've been having doubts lately. I'll admit it. Wondering if I'm wasting my time and the time of the people who are, in one way or another, helping me on my journey to rockstardom. It's hard. I'll admit that, too. This is a very difficult career path to follow, especially when you don't have the right connections and when you never assume that anyone wants you anywhere. But I'm sitting here right now listening to four of my songs over and over again. They're really good. Each in it's own way, but they're really good songs. And I do know what I'm doing when I pick up a guitar. And no, I don't have formal vocal training, but I think my voice is coming along nicely. More than anyting, people comment on what a great voice I have. People kept applauding me at the sammich shop today, which was wonderful. And I got a very generous tip from a complete stranger at the sammich shop yesterday. He told me to "keep the faith." Why does it take random advice or praise from a stranger for me to recognize that I have the ability to do this? Maybe because it is ultimately praise from strangers that I'm going to need to make this happen.

My goal to find an eye candy boyfriend until Thanksgiving didn't happen. I doubt it will now, either. Does this mean I have to look for something real? Or can I stop looking all together?

Sorry. I'm weird today.

Hi.

That's really all I got. It's ten o'clock in the morning and I'm already exhausted.

I started my new day job. I know, I know, some of you may be disappointed or disillusioned by the fact that I got one. But if someone like me was going to get a day job without "selling out," this would be the day job to get. My boss is super cool and 100% supportive of my creative endeavors. I get to wear jeans and sneakers to work every day, and there are two dogs in the office with the sweetest faces! I swear, most people take smoke breaks; I take puppy breaks. Just a minute or two to scritch them behind the ears before I regroup and get back to what I was doing. We've already spent some of our working hours in a coffee shop working remotely. And I get to use all of the skills I aquired over my five and a half years at the University, but I'm now using them for good, instead of evil. I feel like I'm actually helping someone do something good, so I'm motivated to work more. And for what was supposed to be a 10-hour a week for a month thing, I think it could be something much more. I may even get to do some teaching down the line. So yeah, I love my new day job and am so glad I found it. But I still have all of my other irons in the fire, too.

Band stuff is...up in the air. Don't really want to get into it right now.

Closed the Halloween show at my theater company and had a blast. I'm going through a bit of withdrawl, though, since I don't have another project lined up immediately. I'm working on it. This second set of headshots is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

And as always, the bright spot in every one of my days is my cat. He's taken to licking the condensation off of the windows again, which I think is adorable. Makes me wish I had cleaned the windows for him first, but oh well.

Hope you all are doing well and staying warm.

Happy Halloween!

I love Halloween. I've always loved Halloween. Maybe that's a small part of why I became an actor; so I could pretend that it's Halloween even when it's not. But Halloween has gotten weird for me in recent years. I'm usually doing a show at Halloween time, so I don't really get to do Halloweeny things. And my theater friends from college do a Haunted House so they throw their Halloween party in September. So in a strange way, I had my Halloween a month ago. Meh.

We've got one more show to do tonight and then a little shin-dig at the theater afterwards. I won't be staying long, though, partially because I feel like crap and partially because I start my new job tomorrow morning. Yes, I got a job. It's a part-time temporary kind of thing, with the potential to turn into more, but I don't feel like I'm selling out or anything by taking this job. Hell, I might even get the opportunity somewhere down the line to teach someone some of the skills I've aquired in my lifetime as part of this job. My boss is totally cool and there are dogs in the office (it's a home office) and it's just a couple hours each morning. Except this afternoon when I'm going in to fill out my paperwork. But I'm excited. I think this job could be a lot of fun and could even make my dendrites grow a little. Yay dendritic growth!

So happy Halloween everybody! Eat lots of junk food and be safe as best you can.

There are days when I wonder if I'm really good at what I do. Really good or just passable good? And who would honestly tell me I wasn't? I know you guys are my friends so you're going to be supportive no matter what and I love you for that. But there are some days when I honestly wish someone would say to me, "You know what? You're good, but in this business you gotta be great." Or something along those lines. Just so I'd know, you know? I'm not saying a comment like that would stop me from doing what I'm doing; on the contrary, it would probably push me to try harder. I dunno. I guess I could just use some honest feedback every now and again. A barometer against which I could judge my own progress.

So if this whole "finding other musicians to play with me" thing doesn't work out, what if I just went DIY and made an album with GarageBand? I can do some pretty cool stuff in there 'cuz it is a pretty amazing program. Not industry standard by any means, but still. I could make some cool stuff. And then send that out to labels and then when they come to sign me, they can hook me up with their studio musicians and stuff.

Just an idea to play around with.

My house smells like tofurkey.

Mmm...tofurkey...

I know I've said it before, but I'm gonna say it again. I really like being vegan. Even if it does kind of alienate me from a certain segment of the population, I really like being vegan. The food is excellent and I can live knowing nothing else had to die to make that possible. Well, plants, but really, who likes plants anyway?

Kidding. I love plants. I'll just stop eating anything. Except tofurkey...with veggies...and the occasional Twizzler...

So financially speaking, I'm just about at the point where I told myself I'd get a day job again. I'm so not looking forward to that. The thought of going back to work in the service industry or worse, corporate America, kind of makes me sick to my stomach.

And then there's the fact that there is so much exciting stuff in the works! If that phone call comes through or that decision is made, I might not need a day job and I can continue to be a working artist. But I don't know when that call will come or if that decision will go the way I want it to. I have no control over those things. So do I throw in the towel, so to speak, and get a day job again, knowing full well that I may have to quit in a matter of months, or do I keep on keepin' on and wait until I'm in serious financial trouble to get a day job? Should I be proactive and safe or have faith and take the chance that something big could happen any day now?

I know it'll happen for me. I just don't know when.

I have heat.

I have a working phone line.

Trader Joe's has lentils again.

Pretty soon, I'm going to start to feel spoiled...

I'm cold.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of being cold. Which is a bad omen since we're only halfway through October...

Sweet jebus, we're halfway through October already. When did that happen?

But yeah. Quick thanks to John at UIC Radio for having me on the show yesterday. That was a lot of fun.

Quick note to say the band I play with has a big show coming up this Saturday night. Go to their website if you want more info.

Quick note to say my theater company's Halloween show opens tomorrow night. It's really funny. Campy, gorey, raunchy and wrong in so many ways, but so much fun. Go to their website for more info if you want it. Or to buy tickets online. We can do the online ticketing thing now. We're turning into a real theater company.

But yeah. Trying to take it easy and rest up today so my headshot shoot goes well tomorrow and I look purdy. I love being a redhead again. I don't like the upkeep of dying one's hair, but I do love having the red hair. Here's hoping this shoot goes well and I get some nice new headshots out of it. Wish me luck!

Mercy to none!

*burp*

Update: The heat came on Saturday night and Sunday morning. Don't think it's been on since then, but it's not as bad in here as it once was. Thank you for all the warm wishes and offers for a place to crash. I love you guys.

Now on to more important things.

You can say "god" on the radio or television, and you can say "damn," but you can't say "god damn." You can say "ass," and you can say "hole," but you can't say "asshole." Discuss.

Day three.

No heat.

FUCKING MISERABLE.

Sorry, let me amend.

Apparently, the heat was on for "a couple of hours" last night, but by the time I got home at 2am after rehearsal, I couldn't really tell. And it didn't come back on this morning at all because apparently, "there are big problems with it." They're working on it, but have no idea when it will come on. Supposedly, the maintenance guy will be calling me this afternoon with an update. I don't know if that will help or not because he mumbles so I could only get about half of what he was saying. He was also completely oblivious to the fact that I was asking questions; he just spat out the little bit of almost completely unhelpful information as quickly as he could. Hopefully so he could get off the phone and get back to work.

I'm sorry to be so bitchy, but I'm so cold in my apartment, I'm getting panicky. My fingers are numb as I'm typing this, it's that cold. And I know I can go out (and I do) to places that are warmer (the reason I'm not bitching about the fact that I was at the theater until 2am), but I've developed this hacking cough and some annoying congestion because I've had to sleep in an unheated apartment for...well, April. Granted, it wasn't so bad over the summer, but it's been 32 degrees Farenheit (0 degrees Celsius) at night for four or five nights in a row now and to not have heat and to not have storm windows even...it's fucking freezing inside, too. And while I can (and do) leave, my cat can't. He has to live here and try to stay warm. I pile blankets on him and hold him as much as I can to get the body heat thing going. But my musical equipment has no body heat and I'm guessing it's not so good for a tube amp to be exposed to this kind of cold, much less an acoustic guitar.

I'd bitch more but I'm shivering and I have to get ready for work. Please send happy vibes that the boilers are fixed soon and we can get some heat in here. I don't know how much longer I can put up with this.

It's snowing outside.

Snowing.

October 12 and it's snowing.

The worst part is that the heat in my building is not on. Has not come on. It's friggin' cold in here.

I like to sew. I like to make things.

Yeah.

And I'm looking forward to my hair appointment on Thursday. It's fun to update the look, you know?

I'm all kinds of busy now with this Halloween show of ours and I love it. I forget sometimes how much I love acting, too. I get so focused on the music. But I really do love doing theater. Hopefully this new haircut and new headshot combo will help me be able to do more of that.

Okay, I'd like to make one thing perfectly clear. Out of the 26 major league baseball teams, not ONE uses the color pink as part of their uniforms. Yes, a couple use purple and the Rockies even had teal for a while there, but NONE of them use pink. So if you're such a fair weather fan of your "favorite team" that you'll only buy their apparel if it comes in pink, just don't even pretend to like sports, okay? You like a team, you wear their colors. No mutilating of the logo just so you can look girly.

(The one possible exception to this is clothing for children under the age of 12. But once you hit 12, either give up the sports or give up the pink. You can't have both. There is no pink in baseball.)

That, and I hate the Cardinals. Cardinals vs. Mets. As a Cubs fan, I've got nobody to cheer for.

My friend gave me a ninja. That kind of looks like a monkey. I think more monkeys should be ninjas.

Now if only I had a coin-operated boy...

I just got a phone call that I'm having a little trouble digesting. It was, in a lot of ways, a really good phone call. But what it all boiled down to is that if I want to get an agent, I have to get new headshots. I just got new headshots. I kind of thought something like this might be what was going on and it's a little discouraging, but I'm glad somebody said something, you know? I appreciate the constructive criticism. Mostly, it's a matter of having to put out more money and having to sit for another heashot photo shoot. I hate headshot photo shoots. I'm not a big fan of having pictures taken of me. If the picture is being taken for a purpose or when I'm in costume or playing a character, I can handle that. But just pictures of me that I'll spend the next year hoping someone likes when I really don't have many parameters to work with as far as what they might like...I'm not a fan of getting headshots done. But it was kind of a "we like your resume and think you have potential...if you got new pictures" phone call. That's encouraging. It's nice to know that I have potential and that my resume is impressive. I know it is and I do, but it's nice to hear that from someone else who, you know, is in the industry and knows. I just really don't like getting headshots taken.

But if this is what I want to do with my life...it's a necessary evil and it's an investment in my future, right? Right. Now if only I could pick up a couple more gigs somewhere to pay for it...

So Dusty is gone. He seemed like a really nice guy, so I'm kind of sad to see him go. But by the same token, I didn't always like his managerial choices, so maybe it's best in the long run. I'm interested to see who they'll get to replace him. I'm also kind of thinking that this means next season will be a good one for our boys. Traditionally, the first season with a new manager is a good one 'cuz he's really busy trying to prove himself. But I guess a lot of that will have to do with who they get to play for him. This should make for an interesting off season.

And in other news, it's been raining a lot lately. Big, icky, scary thunderstorms where you hope your windows hold up. It's kind of exciting in a way, just because any big weather activity is exciting, but it's also kind of a pain in the neck when you're at rehearsal a half mile from home and you're finished rehearsing and you have to walk home and the heavens have opened up and are pouring down the wrath of God in water form. Fortunately, I was able to borrow an umbrella from the theater last night and I wore my shoes that don't have holes in the soles, so I stayed relatively dry.

Anyway, off to enjoy what could be the last nice day of the season. Have a good day!

Happy October!

And just like that, it's over. Six more months until I can watch another Cubs game. I'd been trying not to watch the last week or so, to kind of ween myself off of baseball, but now that the season is officially over for my boys in blue, I'm kind of sad. Really sad, actually. It's nice knowing that there's a game on, even if I can't watch it. And it does make me happy that we won the last game of the season. We're playing 1000 baseball in October!

I'll miss you over the winter, my boys.

So yeah, the president of the Cubs resigned. Here's hoping the new guy does a good job. And we'll find out about Dusty tomorrow. I'm torn on that one. He seems like a nice guy, but I don't necessarily like some of the choices he's made about who to play and when. But I would like to say that through the off season, I hope we keep Lee, Ramirez, Zambrano, Barrett, Pierre, Howry, and maybe Murton. I wish we could get Todd Walker back. Hell, while we're at it, why not bring back Banks and Sandburg and Sutcliff and Dawson and Dunston and Santo? I have the feeling I'll be paying a lot more attention to the off season goings on than I normally do, and I think I'm okay with that.

Oh, and on another note, I had band practice with a bassist and a drummer today. I'm starting to get excited. We'll see how things pan out. Keep your fingers crossed!

So admittedly, I'm getting antsy. I did that television show thing a while ago and yes, I got my DVD copy in the mail, but there is, as of the posting of this blog, no way for any of the rest of you to see it, nor is there any information posted about when you might be able to.

I know that editing and producing a television show is a big deal. I'm not angry or annoyed with the people who haven't aired it yet. I know they are all working really hard to put out a great product.

But I want you all to see my interview and tell me if I look stupid in it. If I come off as a jackass. I know I used a few more "ums" than I normally do; I try to leave them out of interviews entirely because they make the interviewee (me) look less intelliegent than the interviewee (me) is. But I used a couple. And I'm just wondering if the things I said make sense. Do I seem like an idiot or do I come off as an intelligent but very nice person?

So yeah, I'm getting antsy. And cold. And I'm not a big fan of either.

I got a DVD copy of that television show performance I did last month in the mail yesterday and I have to say, it's not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. I'll even go so far as to say, "Damn, I'm cute." I should have looked up more when I played my songs, yes, but in general, I think I did a good job. And damn, I'm cute.

So apparently, the reason why womanizers don't hit on me is because I'm too much work. I guess men like that don't like/want/have time for intelligent women with a good sense of humor. I don't know if that's comforting or not. You know? You always wonder, "He'll sleep with anything else that moves, but he's not at all interested in me. Why is that?" I don't know if it helps to know that I'm too complicated for a guy like that. Smart women like sex, too, you know.

And my other question is this: you go to the movies and buy the jumbo box of Dots and 90% of them are red. You maybe get one yellow, two green, and four orange ones in the whole freakin' box. You go to the grocery store around Halloween and buy the bag full of mini boxes of Dots and 90% of them are orange. You get maybe two red Dots in the whole bag. Why is that? Are there two totally different Dot factories? Did one of them get a lot more orange flavoring and dye than the other? And why does nobody but me like green Dots?

I had this dream last night that I've had before. Like, the exact same dream. I'm visiting this place that I'm told I have to get out of before it gets dark or bad things will happen. I, of course, can't get out by nightfall, and it turns out the bad things that happen involve bugs. Lots and lots of big, icky bugs that will lay their eggs under your top layer of skin or in any small cuts or anything. And in the dream, I finally get all of the bugs off of me, only to discover that some of the roaches have laid eggs in a cut on my leg and then my leg is teeming with baby roaches, trying to get out. Not exactly a pleasant dream. I find that the next morning (in my dream), I spend the whole day trying to disinfect myself before I start hatching things at night. I bet a dream analyst would have a field day with me.

See, the whole point of a three tiered governmental system, the way I learned it anyway, is so that the three parts can keep each other in check. "Checks and Balances," remember? So why is it that our current executive branch is trying to pass a law that would, essentially, exclude itself from the whole Checks and Balances system? Is the executive branch completely unfamiliar with the Constitution?

Oh, wait, look who I'm talking about. Sorry, my bad. I expect too much from them.

All I have to say is this silly provision better not even make it past the committee wherein it was drafted. If it does, I just might be going for an "extended vacation" to my friend's place in the Netherlands.

So just when I'm having a bad month, a day like today comes along and makes me smile.

I got a comment on my MySpace page that said exactly the right thing from a man I'm trying really hard to not have a crush on.

My friends visited me at the sammich shop today and applauded after each song.

A random patron at the sammich shop gave me a best wishes sort of a card because he really likes my voice.

A local newscaster came into the sammich shop because they were shooting part of a story there, and she said I sounded great.

AND, as if all of that wasn't enough, I found out that The Monkees are on in syndication on a channel I can watch!

Okay, thank you to the random patron. That was so sweet and it really made my day. Thank you to my friends and the local newscaster for your support. I appreciate it more than you know.

But I love the Monkees. I've always loved the Monkees. I know, I know, your image of me is now totally blown. I know people rag on them because they didn't play their own instruments and stuff. But I know for a fact that Mike Nesmith, Mickey Dolenz and Davey Jones are accomplished musicians. I'm not sure where Peter Tork came from, but he was so cute and so funny. I grew up watching Monkees reruns. I grew up listening to their music. And let's face it, regardless of whether or not they played the instruments, they made some damn good music. And the show is funny! Great comic timing. Off the wall sarcastic comments. With a bit of Three Stooges slapstick humor thrown in. I honestly love the Monkees and now they are on the tele and I can watch them again.

Twice in my life, I've been two degrees from a Monkee. I'm two degrees from Kevin Bacon, but what really excites me is that I am two degrees away from the Monkees, twice over. The summer I spent in LA, I worked on a short film starrng a man who had a guest starring role on an episode of the Monkees. And last winter when I played in Pennsylvania, the man who booked me and opened for me is Davey Jones' keyboarist. So twice, I've been two degrees from the Monkees. How cool is that?

I hope you're all having a lovely day, too. If not, cheer up, sleepy Jean...

I've got a very busy six weeks coming up. No! Sleep! 'Til November! See, you can tell already that something's not right because I'm mutilating Beastie Boys lyrics and I'm probably the only person in the world who isn't a huge Beastie Boys fan. Anyway. Yeah, very busy six weeks coming up. So what does my body decide to do? Throat plugged. Sinuses wacky. General feeling of lethargy. Now is not the time to get sick, damn it! Yes, it could just be allergies; it is that time of year. Or it could be our good old friend General Ick who is going to take up residence and stay for a while.

I'd like to stay home and drink tea and eat soup and read all day. But I have to go help raise money for Alzheimer's research. I guess that's a good thing. Help people who are sicker than me so they can read and eat soup and drink tea and remember who their children are. I can rest when I'm dead. Right?

In profile, I really don't have a nose.

I'm not sick, but I'm not well...

Really. I don't think I'm actually sick, but I certainly don't feel good. Part of it is because I'm female (I'm leaving that there), but the other part, I'm not sure. My throat is kinda scratchy. Not really sore yet, just scratchy. Like if I tried to sing right now, I'd probably sound kind of Macy Gray-ish. Or Ella Fitzgerald-ish. Not saying either of those is a bad option, but I think you know what I mean. I'm just feeling kind of off.

I went back to my local library yesterday, realizing that just because I check a book out doesn't mean I have to finish it. I mean, if I'm really not enjoying it, why waste the time? Why not borrow books that are engaging instead of books that are a chore? Anyway, I came home with the third Harry Potter book and another one that was in the new fiction section that looked interesting and I got about a hundred and ten pages into the Harry Potter book before I realized that what I really wanted to do was sleep. So I was in bed by about ten o'clock last night. I haven't done that in ages. On the down side, it means I'm up at six thirty today. I already read some more and did some online surfing and whatnot and it's only seven thirty. And I'm still not feeling fantastic. But I'm thinking I should get up and go about my day as best I can. I have some costume stuff to help out with as the costumer for the kids show at my theater company is kind of swamped. As much as I tried to not be involved, here I am. Involved. Gotta make some ghost costumes. I think. Anyway...

Enjoy your day. Don't feel off. Feel good.

So a long whirlwind weekend of being a rockstar. It was fun, but exhausting. And now I have this lovely lump of something in my throat that makes me sound kinda froggy. It's nice when I'm playing "Me and Bobby McGee," though. I sound like I've smoked for years.

The weird thing about being a rockstar (if I'm allowed to call myself that) is that I don't have weekends anymore. I have weekdays. For example, I have nothing that I have to do today or tomorrow. Okay, not really true, but today and tomorrow are the days that I have to catch up on all of the stuff that normal people do on weekends -- clean house, pay bills, grocery shop, etc. Then Wednesday I'm playing an Alzheimer's benefit at the sammich shop where I usually play on Fridays, and there's a preview of my theater company's children's show. Friday and Saturday I work. Thursday and Saturday I have rehearsals. Sunday I have two band practices (mine and hers) and a gig (hers). It's weird. Most people look forward to the weekend as their time to relax and recover from the week. I'm starting to look at Mondays and/or Tuesdays as my days to relax and recover from the weekend. I guess thus is the price of rockstardom. And I guess I'm okay with that.

So if you live in the greater Chicagoland area and have access to a copy of The Reader from this week, go pick one up. There's a picture of me on page 24 of section 2. The picture is a couple years old, but check it out anyway. It's always fun to be in the newspaper.

So the venue we're playing tonight kind of intimidates me. I know it shouldn't; I've been in there before. It's a basement, essentially. But a rather known basement. And after all, we are on first, so it's not like we're headlining there. But anyway, I'm nervous. Also because supposedly a lot of people that I know are coming, including my friend all the way from Boston. He was in town anyway; he didn't come into town to see the band play. Anyway, it will be good to see my friends, and here's hoping I don't screw up too badly.

I French braided my hair today.

In other news, I'm tired. Of lots of things, so we're just going to say I'm tired. I'm going to go see if the Cubs can win their first series since the middle of August.

I miss Mike Barrett.

I miss Todd Walker.

I didn't turn on my computer at all yesterday. It was kind of strange, but kind of nice. I'm realizing it's been about 36 hours since I was on my computer. Weird.

I'm also realizing that I think a lot of the physical weirdness I've been feeling lately is a lack of vegetables. "A lack of vegetables?" you say. "How can a vegan be lacking in vegetables?" Raw vegetables. Vegetables eaten in their purest state. I've been on this protein kick as of late and while I am still technically eating vegetables, overdosing on lentils and eating a nice, fresh, organic garden salad are two totally different things. The salad makes you feel light and happy. The lentils and rice sit in your stomach like a rock, even though they do let you know you just did something fantastic for your body (seriously, do you know how good lentils are for you? Tons of protein. Good carbs. Lots of iron. Lots of B vitamins. They're the new superfood). So I've decided that instead of planning some expensive spa weekend which will leave me feeling more guilty than anything else, I'm going to take a trip today to my favorite produce store -- Stanley's -- and get a bunch of fresh, organic veggies, and I'm going to make myself a giant salad that I can eat for the rest of the week. I've not done that all summer and I miss it. It's high time I got back into veggies.

So tomorrow is Moby's birthday. Happy birthday, Moby. I'm glad you're around.

Tomorrow is also the fifth anniversary of a very bad day. Since then, things seem to have just gotten worse. Kind of makes one want to leave the country.

But, I think I just expanded my musical family, so I can't leave just yet. I'll have more details for you later, but I wanted to pop by and say something.

Something.

Oh, and my cat is the most beautiful thing in the world.

And there's very little nicer than a homemade vegan chocolate chip cookie with a glass of soy milk.

And tonight's season premiere of Family Guy was so wrong in so many ways but I loved it. The new Simpsons was kind of meh (too many dead horses just getting beaten to death. again.), but the new Family Guy was lovely.

Oh, and the puppet show closes tomorrow night. So if you haven't seen it yet and you don't come tomorrow, well, your loss. No puppet goodness for you. So there.

Congratulations, Andy and Ali!

I'm wearing vintage glasses with no lenses and they seem to have a smudge.

I had forgotten what it feels like to have the government take a huge bite out of your paycheck. Ouch.

So what do you do when you feel totally unattractive? How do you get out of it?

What do you do when you feel like you have absolutely nothing to contribute?

You do feel that way from time to time, yes? We all do, yes? So, how do you deal with it?

My very dear friend lost her grandfather last night. It was one of those things that was a long time coming, so it's probably better, but it's still never easy. The problem being, she lives too far away for me to be able to hug her. All I can do is listen when she calls. I wish I could do more. I love you, honey, and my heart goes out to you and your family.

Happy birthday to my little Filipina friend!

And I just found out today that another of my friends is pregnant. You know who you are, and may I once again send you the heartiest congratulations! I know you'll make great parents.

Though I have to say, when did this happen? First, all of my friends started getting married. Now they're all having kids. I have yet to find a boyfriend (or a tryst for that matter). Did I miss something? Anyway.

Sorry, got distracted by my cat being the absolute cutest thing in the world. This is a strange time of year for him. As the weather gets cooler, he has to spend all of the energy he didn't spend all summer when it was too hot to move. But of course, as the weather gets cooler, I sometimes close the windows. So I think he gets a bit of cabin fever. Otherwise known as orneriness. Did I spell that right? He gets ornery. Or obnoxious. However you want to put it. He's figured out how to open my kitchen cabinets, so he does, and he knocks things out of them. He jumps on my computer, or my dresser, or my bookcase that really doesn't have room for him on it. He chews electrical cords. I know, I know, he's just being a cat. I'll be happy when he calms down a bit and gets into winter mode.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Wow. September. Yeah. And as of Monday, we won't be able to wear white shoes anymore. Or white pants. Or dresses. Or anything white, really. You silly silly brides deciding to get married between Labor Day and Memorial Day are SCREWED! Hahahahahahaha!

Sorry. It's been one of those kinds of weeks.

What I really wanted to say is that I sent out headshots and resumes to thirty-eight agencies in the greater Chicagoland area on Tuesday and have already received two rejection letters. One says they just can't offer representation right now. The other says they can't because they either represent a slew of people like me already, or because I need more experience. I hate when they do that -- make it an either/or situation. Just pick one! Give me one good reason why you don't want to represent me at this time. If it's because you already represent 37 people who look like me, that's fine. Don't throw the other one in there just for fun. Because really, it's not fun. And as someone with a B.A. in theater, 15 films, a dozen or so assorted television appearances, and probably over 30 plays (I lost count a long time ago) under her belt, please please PLEASE don't tell me it's because I need more experience. There is virtually nothing theatrical that I haven't experienced, save maybe the casting couch. I've starred, I've supported, I've written, I've directed, I've run box office, I've done costumes, I've done lighting, I've built sets, I've done sound, I've made curtains, I've cleaned like a fiend, I've been dance captain, I've done musicals, I've done straight plays, I've gotten paid, I've gotten not paid, I've played men, I've played women, I've played vegetables, I've done shit, and I've done critically acclaimed stuff. Please please PLEASE don't tell me I don't have enough experience for you to represent me when I still get strange people running into me and saying, "You played that creepy janitor, didn't you?"

Okay, rant over. Sorry. On the up side, if the other thirty six places reject me, too, you'll get more lovely ranty entries like this, which will hopefully make you all chuckle.

If you think the beer shits are annoying, spend a morning drinking nothing but green tea and then come talk to me.

Just like books, movies need editors. Before the shooting even begins, movies need editors.

Is it wrong that even though I've not been in school for years, my date book of choice is still the Chandler's assignment notebook?

I'm supposedly getting new shoes tomorrow. Assuming the Devil's Delivery Service doesn't screw up yet another order. They look like Chucks, but are made humanely by people who get paid a fair wage. And they're made out of hemp. And they're mostly white, but with black toes. I have yet to decide if I can pull that off or not. We'll find out tomorrow, won't we?

Hopefully.

So it's been raining a lot lately. Granted, we're not talking "gather ye two of every animal and build ye an ark" kind of rain, but it has been rainy and icky for the past several days. And it's gotten me thinking: Maybe I should invest in an umbrella.

Well, I did it. I have a talk show appearance under my belt. I'm pretty sure I came off as a jackass, so just keep that in mind as you watch the clip. It should be up on the show's website very soon. What can I say? I was nervous. I was asked questions that I wasn't expecting or really prepared for. And I dropped my pick halfway through my second song. Oh well. I guess part of my charm is that I'm a a normal person who happens to get to do really cool stuff, like be on talk shows and build puppets and things. And that beng the case, this appearance was a perfect showcase of me and who I really am. Man, I don't even remember half the things I said on the show. As I was driving away, I thought to myself, "Did I really say that? Sweet jebus..." So yeah, just keep that in mind as you watch it. And like a good, self-conscious musician, I went out and got nice and squiffy after the show. Mmm...squiffy...

I'm taping a TV show tonight. In front of a (supposedly) large studio audience.

Eep.

So the host of the show kind of requested that I play "Mona Lisa." I love "Mona Lisa." I think it's a really great song, if I'm allowed to say that about my own work. The only problem with it is that it requires that I retune my guitar. So do I go in with it tuned for that, then tune it back to standard for a second song? Or do I do a song or two in standard tuning and then retune for "Mona Lisa?" It would be fun to do either "Hamburg" or "Coming Home" and then "Mona Lisa." Hmmm...

On the up side, I do know what I'm going to wear. So I don't have to worry about that part. Just about what I'm going to play. Wish me luck! And yes, I'll let you know when it airs.

Moby once said something along the lines of, "It would take an unusual individual to see me as any sort of catch."

Amen, brutha man. Amen.

And I blame Grey's Anatomy for making me think there are billions of such individuals. Stupid stupid awesome show with super hot McDreamy. Why oh why must you move to Thursday nights?

It's been decided. I lead a very strange life. I mean seriously, how many people do you know lose a job and get booked to appear on television all in the same day? Well, I know you know at least one. Because that's me. That's the day I had today.

Yup, after my super crazy week last week, I come back to my regularly scheduled programming only to find that Tuesdays are being dropped for budgetary reasons. Which is fine. I kind of saw that one coming. But still.

Then I come home and get a phone call from a gentleman to whom I sent my press kit months and months ago to be on his show asking if I can do his show this coming Friday. So I'll be taping an episode of The Steve Levy Show this Friday, to be aired at a later date (which I will, of course, let you all know as soon as I know when it's going to air). But yeah, it's a late night talk show, with monologue and guests and stuff. And I get to be one of the musical guests. How cool is that?

So should I be upset that I lost the one gig? Maybe, but I'm not really. It opens up other doors for me. Should I be geeked that I get to be on television? Of course! That's always fun. Now I just gotta figure out what I'm going to play...and what I'm going to wear...

There's a spider who lives in my shower. I think her name is Emily. I feel a little bit bad that my daily bathing habits freak her out so much, but she is the one who decided to live in a shower. It was a shower before she got there. And I bathed there daily before she got there. If she doesn't like it so much, she should move.

So hi, Emily. Welcome to my shower. Sorry the water bit freaks you out. Please don't have millions of babies in my shower. That would not be pleasant. For me, anyway. I might have to do something drastic then and nobody wants that. But you're welcome to all of the mosquitos and such that happen to fly into my shower as well. Enjoy them!

Okay, this is going to be long and rambly because I haven't gotten to do a good brain dump in a while. I've not had a good brain movement in days, so I ate some extra fiber and look out! Here it comes!

I have to admit that as of late, I've been feeling like maybe I'm not so good at what I do. There are several things that feed into this, a lot of which I don't really need to get into the nitty gritty of, but let's just say that some of it is a lack of positive reinforcement from my peers and superiors, and some of it is just part of the learning process. When you're learning something new, you're bound to screw up a lot, which I have been doing, and it makes me feel less than good at what I do.

So I go do this PA job all week last week and I'm reminded of the fact that I am really good at that stuff. I am really good at doing what other people tell me to do. Give me a task and I'll get it done fast and I'll get it done right. I'll drive myself crazy doing it, but you'll be very much impressed with the end result. And in some ways, it was really fun to be a PA for a week and to have tasks to do and places to be and so on and so forth. And in some other ways, it reminded me of exactly why I left my day job oh so many months ago. When you're a PA, you're not really a person. At least I don't feel like one. The person you are helping is the one who has needs and opinions and mood swings and outbursts and blah blah blah, but you're not allowed to. You do your job, keep your mouth shut, speak when spoken to (or when there's something really important to say) and you go home and bitch about it later. It was really strange to go for five days without the people around me knowing I'm a musician and an actor. To have that part of my life completely shut off and ignored. Even by me.

On Friday, I got to go play at the sammich shop, though. They asked me if I could work on Friday with not really enough notice to tell the sammich shop I couldn't go, and besides, I wanted to play. I was coming off of a week of playing every day to a week of not even picking up my guitar once, and I wanted to play. And it was the best time I've ever had playing at that sammich shop. A lot of the customers noticed me and made positive comments. A three year old boy played air guitar with me. A frat boy did a goofy little dance while he was waiting for his friends. And I got to sing. And play. And make people happy. This man came in with his father and at first they didn't even notice I was up there. It took them a good ten minutes or so to realize it was an actual person making the music, not piped in stuff. They were blown away. It felt wonderful. It felt so frickin' good to get that kind of positive reinforcement. I needed that little reminder that I am good at what I do. I'm good at what I love.

I know I complain that it's weird to play for people who are largely disinterested. But I have to say that I'm the luckiest person in the world that I get to make music for people on a regular basis, AND I get paid to do it. How cool is that?

Adn then there's the boy front. Or lack thereof. My hot bartender has a girlfriend, so there goes one totally unrealistic crush. I think for the first time in a long time, I have no idea what I want, but I want something. Which is why I'm kind of sticking with my "I want an incredibly hot man" thing. Not just someone who is kind of cute if you look at him the right way. Not someone who becomes attractive because I've gotten to know him. I want a guy who my girlfriends will look at and go "Damn, where did she find him and does he have a brother?" I want strangers walking down the street to look at us and go, "Girlfriend did good." BUT (and it's a really big but) I don't want a purely physical relationship with him. I still want to be able to trust him. I still want loyalty and exclusivity. But I don't know that I want him to be my proverbial soul mate with whom I will spend the rest of my life. I want it easy going and relaxed, but I still want to feel safe and secure in the knowledge that I'm the only one he's spending his romantic energies on. Where does one find such a man? And how does one go about approaching the situation? "Hi. You're the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life. You wanna have a high school-esque relationship with me where we talk about really unimportant stuff, never get into the nitty gritty, have sex on occasion, but spend the majority of our time just making out?" Is it crazy to want that? I take that back. It's okay for me to want whatever I want. But I'm guessing that I'm the only person in the greater Chicagoland area who wants that, so I'll probably remain single/non-dating for a while longer until I'm ready to open my heart up to someone again. That's going to be the tough part.

And yeah. Got a show tonight. I hope it goes better than last week. I should look at my script again. And I gotta start getting ready to send out an agent mailing. Wish me luck with that one. And my musical instrument/equipment collection is growing, so maybe I'll play around with Garageband a bit more and see what I come up with. Never hurts to play around.

I hope you all are doing well and staying cool. Say hi to your respective families for me. Scritch any pets you might have. Unless they're fish. Fish don't usually take well to scritching.

You know, I'd still like to see the Cubs versus the Cardinals in the playoffs. Because chances are, we'd kick their asses. That'd be fun.

I think the hardest part about being a personal assistant is having to pretend you're an extrovert. Granted, I doubt extroverts find this problematic. Inroverts, however, might find it challenging. Having to always shadow your person. Having to talk lots and lots. Though in some ways, introverts make great personal assistants because 1) they listen well and 2) they only spit back out the important information without all sorts of mindless chatter surrounding it. In any case, being someone's personal assistant is taxing. Pays well, but it's exhausting.

I've had a fun week, though. I like being involved in film type stuff. This was the first commercial I've worked on, and essentially, it was like working on a movie, but with the time period significantly condensed. And I impressed all of the right people, which is good. I was quiet when I needed to be and the take-charge type when I needed to be and I got everything done that needed to be done. I impressed the right people to such an extent, actually, that they hired me on for today, too. So five days instead of the three they originally asked about. And they asked if I'd be interested in doing this kind of stuff again. I said I would. So between the music and the acting and my theater and freelance PA work, I'm going to be one busy little bee. Which is a good thing. A very good thing.

Gotta go to work now. I'll chat more later. Love you guys!

I just wanted to say a real quick happy birthday to my honorary sister today. Wow. We're getting old.

Tee hee.

One more day of craziness and then I'll be able to post more and fill y'all in on what's been going on. Hang in there. I know you're dying to know.

But happy birthday, honorary sister!

Hi. Stop.

Crazy busy. Stop.

Enjoying it. Stop.

Super tired. Stop.

Will be glad when I can sleep past 7am again. Stop.

Hope you are well. Stop.

Say hi to the kids for me. Stop.

Stop. Stop.

It feels really good to work hard. So hard that you're exhausted by the time you get home.

On the down side, I have to do it again tonight. In just a couple of hours.

On the up side, I didn't have to do it a third time. That one I got out of.

On the down side, I have to start again at the proverbial butt crack of dawn tomorrow.

On the up side, I'm getting paid really well. And it's only through Thursday.

It feels really good to work hard.

So this character I'm playing in the puppet show is kind of the office ditz/slut. She spends a fair amount of time reading magazines, taking quizzes, and doing crossword puzzles. So as a prop, I went out and purchased a certain women's magazine that is pretty well known. I won't say which one, but I'm sure you can imagine. Anyway, before the show and a little bit onstage, I've been reading this magazine and all I have to say is no wonder women are neurotic! There are a million and one tips on how to make sex better for him. Better for him? Honey, the fact that he's getting any at all means he's doing pretty darn well. Where's the section on how to train him to "hit the right spot" so to speak? Instead, we are given exercises that we can do to increase the strength of our muscles down there to make our orgasms better. We're told that essentially, men want to be able to do as little as possible while making love. And that if we don't make sex exciting enoug for him, he'll dump us. We're told what handbag we absolutely can't live without. We're told where to find those oh-so-affordable $150 jeans that will be popular until maybe November. Sweet Jebus, no wonder our culture is falling apart.

Now, I know people like to busy themselves with the mundane. It makes them feel important. But come on. There is a page in the magazine titled "Man without a shirt" and it's just a picture of some random guy not wearing a shirt, and about three sentences on how he got those amazing abs. Now, as much as I'm in my shallow phase right now, do we really need to be perpetuating this? There's an article saying that big butts are now preferred over big boobs. So thanks to my genes, I'm now in fashion. What about all of those women who spent all kinds of money on boob jobs? Now they're being told they have to get more plastic surgery to get a proper booty, that will go out of style as soon as the newest cellulite cream hits the market.

It honestly makes me sad. And that isn't even talking about the 8,000,000 ads in the magazine full of sexy women wearing next to nothing, highlighting some new nail polish color. It's no wonder women hate each other. Stuff like this encourages us to go into direct competition with each other about everything -- men, clothes, jobs, physicality.

I have to admit that when I was younger, I did read some of these types of magazines on a semi-regular basis. I've not read one (this most recent one being the exception) in probably ten or fifteen years. And I can honestly say, my life is much better, richer and fuller not knowing where to buy gaucho pants and how to use them to get the man of my dreams. Just let me be me and do my own thing, thanks.

I hate to get all esoteric on you, but life is really funny sometimes, you know? We get all stressed out about things that all work out in the end. We feel we never have enough time, yet somehow, all of the important stuff gets done anyway. We feel we never have enough money, but then something strange happens and we get a bonus at work or something. We feel disconnected from other people, and then we find friends we never knew we had in unusual places. And the weirdest part about it is that I seem to have dreams about a lot of this stuff beforehand. I had a dream two nights ago that my bank account was really low and I needed to find a job, and now I'm about to embark on my biggest money-making week since I left my day job. I had that dream oh so long ago about meeting a hot drummer and then I did. So last night I dreamt that I had gone out of the country and on the plane ride home, someone stole the photographs from my driver's license and passport, so I couldn't get back into the United States. What do you think that one means? I shouldn't take a trip abroad? Or if I do, I should just buy a one-way ticket? Meh. We'll see.

It's amazing what a simple "thank you" can do.

It's also amazing what happens when said "thank you" is missing.

I also wonder what the differences in oxytocin levels between introverts and extroverts are. If any.

I wonder what the world record is for number of cucumbers consumed by an individual person in a twenty-four hour period.

I love it when I get to be a part of something really cool. Like when the sammich shop where I work asks if I'll provide the music for their fundraiser to help the music therapy program at Children's Memorial Hospital. Which they did. And I accepted. And I'm so excited that I get to be involved!

This Tuesday, I'll be playing at the Potbelly's in Lincoln Park from about 11am - 3pm (I know, four hours! My fingers are going to hate me) as part of their fundraising efforts. And 100% of the sales from that store on that day go to the music therapy program at Children's. 100%! So if you live near there or work near there or might happen to be walking through that neighborhood, stop in and get a sammich. And maybe some chili. And a shake. And some pretzels. And a bottle of water. Because whatever you spend there on Tuesday will go to help sick kids know the healing power of music. How cool is that?

I'm warning you, it will be packed in there. But they're going to have a lot of staff on hand and things run pretty smoothly with that bunch, so your wait shouldn't be too long. And it's for charity, people. You can spend the rest of your day knowing you did something good for someone other than yourself. And, you'll get to hear me play cover songs. How fun is that? I hope to see you there!

And thank you to Potbelly's for letting me be a part of something really cool.

I slept in my own bed last night. Under the sheets. With my cat sleeping above the sheets on his side of the bed. And I can't even tell you how wonderful it was. Okay, partially because it's a new bed and it's really comfortable, but also because sleeping in the living room on my futon was getting a little bit old. But it was cool enough last night to allow me back in my own room. Yay!

Okay, I'll admit it. The heat wave made me cranky. I apologize for being cranky. You'd be cranky, too, though, if you felt like your brain was melting inside your head.

But then last night and this morning we had the most spectacular thunderstorms. We're talking torrential downpours for six minutes and then drizzle for an hour and then "big ol' fat rain" for a little while, all the time peppered with huge cracks of thunder and stunning bolts of lightning. Does lightning have an e in it? Lightening? I always spell that wrong. It's my weakness. Everybody has one. People can ask me how to spell spectacular and I'll rattle it off no problem, but lightening always screws me up. I do love to look at it. And frightening as some of the thunder can be, I really do enjoy watching lightening and hearing thunder. It makes me feel safe somehow. The world is working as it should be.

AND, it cooled off the outside air temperature by about thirty degrees. Meaning I could sleep last night. I'm wearing my jeans today and socks and I feel so much better. Calmer. More relaxed. My cat is liking this a lot better, too. He was sleeping behind the toilet for most of the day yesterday, just to be near the cool porcelain. Today he's playful and begging for attention again.

So anyway, I'm sorry I've been cranky. And for those of you still being cooked on the east coast, relief is on the way. Maybe only for a day or two, but even a day or two makes a world of difference.

I know it was a move that was better for their own personal careers, but it breaks my heart a little bit to see Maddux and Walker go. Maddux because he should end his career in Chicago. And because now we have yet another hole in our starting rotation. Walker because he was/is a great player. Great fielder, great bat, great pinch hitter. And the best looking man in baseball. I'm kind of miffed that he was traded for one minor league pitcher. I think he is worth more than that.

So long, boys. I hate to see you go. And if it helps at all, when you play against us, I won't hate you. I'll still be happy to see you on the field.

Hi. Stop.

Still hot. Stop.

No, really, stop. I'm very much looking forward to the theoretical impending rain due to cool off the greater Chicagoland area come Tuesday or Wednesday. More for the sake of my cat than anything else. Poor baby is so hot. I'm doing whatever I can tokeep him cool, and he's finding the coolest places in the house to sleep, but he's sluggish. I feel really bad for him.

And of course today, the day they are predicting will break heat records, they decide to work on the plumbing in my building so they shut off the water. Good idea, guys. Granted, most people are at work so it doesn't make that much difference to them. But on the hottest day of the year, let's shut off the water in the building so that if there was someone at home, he/she couldn't drink water, go to the toilet, take a cold shower, etc.

I'm going to a friend's house where it's air conditioned to paint puppets. I might even skip my class and go straight to band practice, just to keep my moving around/physical activity to a minimum. We'll see.

Stay cool everybody.

So just because it's stinkin' hot doesn't mean my cat doesn't still need a lot of attention. It's actually really cute and very sweet. He'll lie down next to me so that he's touching my leg or something. Given a choice, he prefers that I sit on the floor with my legs extended, but he will sometimes still crawl into my lap and suffer the heat and stickiness for a little scritching. It honestly melts me. But in a totally different way than the heat does.

People who have never had a pet don't get how people who do have pets get so attached to them. Animals have so much personality! I have to remind myself every now and again that he's a cat and not another person. And I know I didn't start out on this whole vegan thing for ethical reasons, but they have kind of developed over the years. I'm really glad that my lifestyle doesn't involve another creature being robbed of his/her chance to be scritched behind the ears or to run through a nice grassy field. Animals are awesome and amazing and beautiful and I'm glad that none of them have to die so I can live.

Okay, I'll stop now.

Hi.

It's hot.

Almost oppressively so.

It's been hot for a lot of days now.

It will continue to be hot for a lot more days.

I know at least a half-dozen people who have offered up their air conditioned residences as a place of refuge for me during the hot. For that, I thank them. One even said I could bring Owen with. Thing is, at this point, the thought of packing up everything that would be necessary to make such a move is really daunting. Moving a cat you have to bring food, bowls, toys, litter box, scoopy thing for the litter box, cat in carrier, treats, etc. etc. etc. Not to mention all the crap I would have to bring for me (clothes, toiletries, food, etc. etc. etc.). Don't worry; I am spending a couple of hours every day in air conditioning of some sort. And believe it or not, I am still sleeping okay. It's amazing what a fan on high pointed directly at your face can do. But if I'm a little slow or irratable, it's because the heat is getting to me a bit. Just a bit. I'd still rather this than forty below.

In other news, I was over at my brother's house a few weeks ago and his girlfriend offered me this concoction she has dreamed up. At the time I passed, but I have since tried to replicate it on my own, with a little bit of augmentation, and I have to say, it is one of the most wonderful things ever. So for those of you who are always asking for vegan recipes, get out your pens and recipe cards and give props to my brother's girlfriend when you make this and serve it and people say, "Damn, that's tasty!"

Step one: Go to Trader Joe's. If there is not a Trader Joe's near you, stop and cry for a minute. Then think about other kinds of grocery stores that might have whole grain type healthy grass eater kinds of food and try one of those. But for argument's sake, we're going to pretend that there is a Trader Joe's near you.
Step two: In the produce section, get one pint of cherry, plum or grape tomatoes and one package of pre-cooked steamed lentils.
Step three: In the frozen section, get one box of pre-cooked organic brown rice.
Step four: In that strange nebulous refrigerated section that isn't quite produce but kind of feels like it should be, get one tub of organic black bean and corn salsa. I think it's organic. Maybe not. Either way, get a tub of it.
Step five: Pay for your purchases. This step is very important as it will prevent you from going to jail and being unable to get a decent job in the future.
Step six: Go home.
Step seven: Prepare the steamed lentils per the instructions on the box (which consists of cutting slits in the plastic and microwaving them for about two or three minutes).
Step eight: Prepare one package of brown rice as per the instructions on th box (which consists of cutting a small hole in the bag and microwaving it for about three minutes).
Step eight: Wash the tomatoes and drain the lentils.
Step nine: Pour the lentils, the rice, and the salsa into a large bowl.
Step ten: Mix.
Step eleven: Serve, using the cherry, plum, or grape tomatoes as garnish.

Voila! Amazing! It's got a nice little kick to it from the salsa, tons of protein and iron, and some good whole grain carbohydrates. The tomatoes just add a little bit of cool and wet to counterbalance the spice in the salsa. So good! And seriously, I know I wrote it out as eleven steps, but this is one of the easiest meals you'll ever make. You nuke stuff for about six minutes total and then mix it all together. How easy is that?

So yeah, it's delish. And thanks to my brother's girlfriend for planting the idea in my head. You could always cook your own brown rice and lentils, and make your own salsa if you're feeling ambitious. Or you can give props where they are deserved and just call Trader Joe's the most wonderful store on the planet. Nobody will think you're exaggerating. Promise.

Happy birthday, Dad! I love you.

Hey.

So Blogger wasn't letting me log on for a day or two there, so you missed out on some lovely bits of nothing. Sorry. I had stuff to say, stuff that I'm probably glad now that I didn't say, but it wouldn't let me post. It wouldn't even really let me log on. Seriously, has that whole internet neutrality thing started yet, where if your site is not owned by AT&T you can only pull it up once every six weeks? Or whatever. The thing that makes some websites more equal than others, if you know what I mean. 'Cuz if this is what it's going to be like once that happens, shit. Might as well not even have internet. Anyway.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my connections to people and mostly I'm thinking it's kind of odd that the people I feel closest to are often hundreds if not thousands of miles away. Yet when some random person says hello to me on the street, I pretend he or she isn't there. Why is that? Why is it okay to answer an email from a total stranger, but if some one you don't know is sitting next to you at the bar and says "gesundheit" when you sneeze, you think he/she is a freak show? Or desperate? Or a killer/mugger/rapist?

Part of this has to do with my personal life right now. I knew that if I didn't start dating someone instantly after the run in with The Boy, that I'd lose my interest in dating all together. And I didn't start dating right away. And I've lost my interest in the subject. I've been asked out by four different men in the past week (they actually all happened within about three days of one another) and I've managed to turn them all down or piss them all off. They are all great guys in their own right -- great senses of humor, good taste in movies and music, good conversationalists, etc, etc, etc. But I've lost my interest in dating. I've lost the desire to get to know another human being in that sense and to devote that kind of time to someone, to let someone get to know me that intimately. I think a lot of it might be that it all seems a waste of time.

Clarification: getting to know other people is not a waste of time. Finding a connection with other people is not a waste of time. These things are what life is all about.

But I have friends who I connect with. My best friend lives in Texas and I don't remember what my life was like before I met her. My best guy friend is the sort I can call up on short notice just to go grab a beer or something. And the kicker, a guy I had a thing for for just about as long as I can remember finally came out to me and I think we're better friends for it. So why muck it all up with romantic gestures and physical intimacy? One person says, "let's get coffee" and the other hears "we're dating exclusively" and when the communication misfire is talked through, one party or the other ends up fantastically hurt and angry and the friendship bit is therefore ruined. Or at the very least, put on a very fragile shelf for a while until support beams can be installed. Why not spend time cultivating friendships without all of the societal pressure to pair off?

I dunno. I think that if I were to date someone right now, it would have to be rather surface level. Part of me wants to be really shallow and start dating a male model or an athlete or someone with an amazing body who makes me feel insecure about my own physique, but I intimidate the hell out of him intellectually. And we'd have a really hot romance until, like, November when he takes me home for Thanksgiving and I see all kinds of pictures of him with old girlfriends on the mantel piece and his mother makes snide comments under her breath about the size of my ass (I've never seen a vegetarian with that much junk in her trunk. How does that even happen if she doesn't eat cheese?) and he and I finally realize that all we really have is a mutual love of Kevin Smith films so we end it and are both better people for it.

But I think we all know I'm not that kind of person. I don't know that I'm capable of a surface level relationship of any sort. Hell, I get sick of party small talk after about ten minutes. Though if it came wrapped in a six-pack...I'm kidding! Sheesh, I'm totally kidding. For as much as you guys read this thing, you'd think you'd know me better than that.

Thanks for letting me feel connected to the world somehow. Even if I have problems connecting face to face.