So I got this sample of cat food in the mail the other day. The ingredients listed thereon were chicken and tapioca starch or some such thing -- ingredients that I actually recognized what they were, as opposed to the list of a million strange things that normally appear in cat food. Anyway, I decided to give it to him.

Side note: I know a lot of vegans and vegetarians feed their pets vegetarian cat and dog food. I can't bring myself to do it. For me, veganism is not subjecting animals to human desires, and as near as I can tell, dogs and cats like eating meat. They are, biologically speaking, more carnivorous than humans are. Sure, I watched my cousin's dog go to town on a cucumber last weekend, but he also attacked some meaty treat with the same gusto. Cats and dogs are not supposed to be vegetarian. They're just not. And until such time as my cat can say to me, "Mom, I'd rather not eat fish anymore because I think it is cruel to the fish," I'm still going to give him salmon flavored cat food. He loves the stuff. Anyway, back to my story.

So I give my cat this new cat food which is, essentially, cut up chicken. He has not touched it all day. Not one bite. He looks at it, looks at me, and eats his dry food instead. And then, to make it even stranger, I had some tofurkey for dinner, and he begged for it. My cat will not touch chicken, but begs for tofurkey.

What?

Okay, so maybe my cat is a pescatarian. Who knew?

Hi.

Okay, job update.

I'm no longer working at the place I really didn't enjoy, which is kind of a good thing. Maybe I can get my good employee mojo back now. The down side is that I don't have a job to go to tomorrow. Though I still don't really want to see that as a down side -- I could use a day or two off!

I had three interviews last week, and I have one more tomorrow. Two of the prospects I was really excited about, one moderately so, and one not so much, but it would be fine. One that I was really excited about, I've not heard from at all. I was told by that prospect to call on Friday to see what's what, and I did call, but left a voice mail message and have not heard back. I'm thinking I didn't make it to the second round of interviews. The other one I'm really excited about, I was supposed to do a phone interveiw on Thursday, but it got pushed to Monday. So I can't really speak to that one. The one I was moderately excited about, I interviewed for last week and now I'm excited for it. I think it could be fun and interesting and maybe even (dare I say it) challenging. They are interviewing more people this coming week, so wouldn't have any sort of decision until Friday. And the one that would be fine, but that I'm not doing cartwheels over, made me an offer. I don't know what to do! Ultimately, if I could wait until Friday to make a decision, that would be perfect. The offer that was made was a good offer and I know I'd be fine at the job -- I might even grow to really like it. But on the surface, the other positions are much more "me," and I don't want to give up on them yet, especially since I haven't even interviewed for the one yet. I know they want an answer at the one place sooner as opposed to later. I don't want to flat out turn it down because I don't know that I have another option. But if I have another option, I don't know that I want to accept. And I certainly don't want to accept, only to leave a week later for another job. That is decidedly uncool.

But what it all boils down to is that I will have work again soon. Which is a good thing. So thank you for all of the positive energy and well wishes and stuff. It'll all work out. I'm just not exactly sure how yet.

I inherited an umbrella today. I got onto the train this morning, hoping that the sprinkles wouldn't turn into a torrential downpour before I got where I was going and sat down next to an umbrella that seemed to have lost it's owner. It was sort of tucked under the seat. A pretty little umbrella, I think with a Monet painting on it. So we chatted on the ride in to work and the umbrella adopted me for a little while. I'm pretty sure at some point, I will put it back under the seat on the train so that it can find it's original owner, but for the moment, we're going to hang out and see how it goes.

Hey.

Okay, really quick because I'm almost giddy and that's never fun to read about, right?

First of all, I'm a horrible daughter. I forgot to wish my dad a happy birthday yesterday. I did have dinner with him on Sunday and gave him a card, but I spent the entire day yesterday thinking, "Call Dad," and then forgot to actually do it. So my apologies. And I also want to say that he's a really good Dad. He does everything that he can for his family and that's pretty wonderful. So happy birthday, Dad, a day late.

Second, the Cubs are now two games out of first place, but only a half of a game out of first in the Wild Card race. How crazy is that?

Third, we may have found my high school friend. I say "we," but I mean my other high school friend who actually reads this and with whom I still communicate. Thank you for finding him, if it does turn out to be him. I'm mostly glad to know that he's still alive. Though I do wonder if he still looks like Ethan Hawke.

Fourth, happy birthday today to my bass player (woo hoo!) and a friend of mine from college (w00t!). I hope you both have frabdjalicious days. Whatever that means to you.

Go Cubbies!

My new favorite really horrible thing that people keep saying to me is "What a waste of a brain." See, I've been going on all of these job interviews and whatnot and when I tell people that I was in the smart kids program at school and that I started college with 35 credit hours due to AP courses and whatnot, and that I chose to study theater and pursue artistic interests at college, they invariably reply with something along the lines of "What a waste of a brain." Which, if you think about it, is a really awful thing to say.

Yes, I'm one of the smart ones. No, I've not found a cure for cancer. But you know what? The people who are working on it haven't found it either, so there. And no, I didn't focus my energies on studying the law so that I can help people file frivolous lawsuits that take up lots of tax payer time and money. I chose to study the arts so that I could bring a little bit of joy into the world. So that I could make people feel things they didn't know they could feel. I've been told by many people that one song of mine or another has helped them through a rough patch, or that they still remember laughing so hard it hurt at one of my theatrical performances. I bring people comfort and peace and joy and I pump good energy into the world through my art. How can you say that is a waste of talent or a waste of a brain?

And even if it was a waste of my mathematical abilities, it's still a rude thing to say. You're telling me I made a stupid choice by following my heart and my passions. Sorry, but that doesn't make me want to hang around and talk to you more.

I've not wasted my life. I know this. I hope some of these people in their office jobs figure that out someday, too.

Going back once again to the theory that when it rains, it pours, I have the potential for four job interviews this week. I went on one this morning, I may have one on Wednesday (depending on how a conversation goes tomorrow), I have a phone interview on Thursday, and another interview Friday afternoon. A couple of the jobs, I'm really excited about and think I could enjoy quite a bit. A couple of them, I think would be fine in the absence of anything else. But I'd rather get one of the ones I'm really excited about.

So yeah, thank you for all of the positive energy and I'll keep you posted.

I also have to write a tidbit about the gig I played in Madison over the weekend, but I'll do that when I have more than a minute to spend.

Wow.

So my dad is moving out of the house I grew up in and they're cleaning out the basement, including several boxes of stuff that is mine that has just lived there since I did. I brought a couple of boxes home tonight, one of which contained the six missing yearbooks -- three from junior high school, and three from high school (I had my senior year yearbook here already). Wow. As near as I can tell, I had an awkward stage that lasted from about age seven to age nineteen. I had bad hair, I had bad skin, I had no neck to speak of, no nose worth mentioning (still kind of don't have a nose, but oh well), and absolutely no fashion sense. And I'm not saying that by today's standards I had bad hair and no fashion sense -- I had no fashion sense for back then. It was pretty bad. And it's no wonder the cute boys never liked me back. It's no wonder all of my girlfriends stabbed me in the back. I was a dork who wanted to be a scientist and played clarinet in band. Who wants to be friends with that kid?

One interesting thing, though, was to read the signatures in my yearbook in chronological order because I could see people getting to know me and coming to the realization that maybe I wasn't so bad. Entries go from, "I don't know you that well, but math sucked!" to "It was fun working on that project with you. Have a great summer!" in the course of a year. And I look at the pictures of the people I thought were my friends and they look just as lost as I felt. And I look at the pictures of the kids I hated and they still look like snobs. And I look at the pictures of the kids who had it worse than me and I hope they're doing okay now.

I found some pictures, too, of my friend who I know I've talked about in here before. The one who was always more miserable than I was. He looked like Ethan Hawke, but he hated it when we mentioned that. He was smart and funny and cute and so miserable. I really hope he's doing okay. Actually, I hope he's doing better than okay -- I hope he's happy. I was miserable just about every day of the seven years covered in those yearbooks and I'm okay now. I hope the same is true for him. If any of you know where he might happen to be, please tell him I say hi and give him a hug. I think I owe him at least one good one.

I remember, too, reading the things written in my yearbook by the boys I had crushes on, and how those notes, too, went from "fuck you" to "I hope the weather is nice in the country where you live" over time. Literally. I remember how I used to read those entries over and over and over and over until I could recite them by heart, searching for hidden meaning in the words or between the words. But there really wasn't any. And the poor boy I had a crush on for years was actually pretty messed up. I didn't know it then, but you can tell when you look at his pictures and read the things he wrote (I found our high school literary magazines, too). I hope he's doing okay.

And I look back at the old pictures of me and I want to tell that girl that it's all temporary. I want to tell her to try out for more plays, or to not quit band for academics. I want to tell her to not wear such baggy sweatshirts because they only make her look bigger, and to not wear turtlenecks because they make her neck disappear. I want to help her with her hair, and maybe introduce her to mascara at a slightly younger age (I didn't start wearing make up until I was nineteen). I want to tell her to stop trying to fit in and to just be herself because it is when people get to see the real her that they start to like her and respect her. And I want to tell her that all of the social bullshit that goes along with junior high and high school really doesn't matter. Half of these people who made my life so miserable back then -- I don't even remember them. And I have nothing to do with the other half anymore. I want to tell her that somewhere along the way, she will develop long, graceful arms and long, graceful legs, and a long, graceful neck (on which she'll get a kickass tattoo). I want to tell her that the glasses are temporary and the braces are temporary and that her skin will get better. I want to tell her to just hang in there, that it will all be okay, and that while it is okay to be sad, there really isn't a good reason to be that sad for that long.

But if I were able to go back and tell her all of that, who would I be now? Would I be kind? Would I be humble? Would I be sensitive? Would I have turned into this woman who isn't too hard on the eyes, who is loved by some really quality friends and by an amazing family? Would I rock out on my guitar, or creep people out on stage? I don't know. And I like all of those things about me, so maybe it's better that I was so miserable for so long. It made me who I am.

I just really hope that for all of his misery, my friend turned out wonderfully, too.

Wow. I missed playing out. And playing with other people...it's really hard to top that. Not chocolate, not sex, not the Cubs winning the World Series. Well, maybe the Cubs winning the World Series, but I wouldn't know about that because it hasn't happened in my lifetime. But playing music with other amazing musicians in front of a room full of cheering fans...wow. I missed playing out.

Yes, there were some sound issues. Part of that was us, part of that was the equipment, part of it was the venue. I don't think it's worth pointing fingers and getting annoyed about. It was our first show. If anything, I think it speaks volumes about the music itself that even though it was hard to hear my vocals, people loved the show just the same. Just goes to prove what I've been saying all along -- my band rocks. And it gives us valuable insight into how to make the next show better. How to adjust our settings, what to tell the sound guy, that kind of thing. So it's all good.

For those of you who are interested, our setlist was as follows:

Astoria Park
Coming Home
Insomnia
Raspberry Kisses
Mona Lisa
Less Whole
Skyrocket

And if you're really annoyed about not being able to hear what I was saying, maybe I'll post the lyrics up here later.

So I want to say thank you, first of all, to Flabby Hoffman for having us out as part of his traveling caravan. Without Flabby, there would have been no show, so thank you. Thank you also, to the Underground Lounge and their staff for allowing us to use the venue. It's a fun place. Underground. A little bit lounge-y. Thank you also to Mainstream Minority, The Fighting Scientists, and The Heard for sharing the stage with us. You guys were great. Thank you to Bob the sound guy -- we're a hard band to balance, sorry about that. Thank you for all of your efforts. And finally, thank you to everyone who came out to watch the show. To my friends who made t-shirts, I love you. To the photographers, thank you. We need photos of the whole band up here! And to all of the people who came to see the other bands, but liked us, too, thank you. Please come again.

I missed playing out. I'm going to have to make sure we get to do this more often. And better and better every time we play.

My band debuts as a band tonight. I'm so excited! I think I made a mistake this morning, though, when I put gel in my hair. It's so humid out; I was just try to get it to look decent. But it doesn't feel as nice as it normally does. I should just remember that I'm a girl who likes product-free hair. Regardless, I'm looking forward to the show.

The Cubs are on this insane winning spree, too, which I'm loving. Absolutely loving. Knock on wood, but keep it up, boys!

Now, if only the job thing would straighten itself out...

I know it's distasteful to boast, but it's okay to boast about other people, yes? As in, it's perfectly acceptable for me to say that I am completely in love with my band, yes? Because they're awesome? Really. We have our first gig on Thursday, so we played through our set three times last night at practice (stopping in the middle to work a couple songs that needed some fixing up) and I have to say that I think everyone who comes to the show will be pleasantly surprised. We don't sound like I did when it was just me with a guitar (obviously -- there is another guitar, a bass, and a drum kit there, too), but I think the core of the music is still the same. Good lyrics, interesting melodies, great sounds. My band is subtle when they should be subtle and they'll hit you when you're supposed to be hit. It's great. I have to say, we've got a great set prepared for Thursday night and I hope everyone else likes it as much as I do. But even if they don't, I'm still kind of sort of completely in love with my band. And beyond their musicianship, they're all people I'd like to hang out with. So we got that going for us, too.

Thank you guys!

Ooo boy, lots to talk about today.

First of all, I got demoted. As of this morning, I am a temporary employee at the place I've been working for the last month and a half. Honestly, I think it's better this way. I've been getting increasingly unhappy here and this way, if another job comes up (which I know it will), I can take it without guilt. But I'm still getting a paycheck in the interim. I have my resume out to headhunters and friends who know people and to random jobs I found online and I'm sure something will come through soon. And/Or I'll sign on with another temp agency or two and see what kind of assignments they might have for me.

The really weird thing about it was that it was kind of a relief. When you spend every day thinking, "What's going to happen today that I'm going to get fired for?" and then you do kind of get fired, it's like the pressure is off. I can just do the job I'm here to do and I don't have to try to impress anyone. It is, admittedly, a little uncomfortable being here, but I know it's only temporary. Yay for temporary.

I have thought about looking into getting what I think would be called a peddler's license so I can play my guitar on street corners for money. Stupid movie Once glorifying the life of the busker. Grumble, grumble.

Side note: Once is not a stupid movie. It's a lovely movie with great music that is so what I wish my life was. Go see it if you get the chance. It's lovely. Anyway.

I also went to my future sister-in-law's bridal shower yesterday. It was really nice and it was great of her aunts to throw it for her. They even made special provisions for the two vegans in the crowd, which I thought was really sweet. The gift opening went super fast, too, which was nice. But I'm still thinking that I don't really need a bridal shower if I ever get married. I was told that I'll probably still have one because one of my friends will want to throw one for me, but I don't think I really need one. Or if I do have one, let's all go bowling or something. No need for high heels and saving bows. Let's just get together and do something fun for an afternoon. I'll keep you posted on any ideas I come up with for it.

Side note: the more I see my future sister-in-law, the more I like her. I'm kind of looking forward to getting to know her better over the years as she becomes a part of our family.

And the Cubs. Red hot! Who would have thought? I'm still miffed that we traded Barrett (largely because yes, the new catchers have gone a month without a passed ball, but the highest batting average amongst the three of them is in the low 200's), but man, it's nice to watch them play when they're winning like this. Winning series. Sweeping series. Coming back from behind. Scoring manufactured runs when the homers aren't flying. Making really great defensive plays. I love watching my boys do well!

And finally, I have to talk about the love of my life, my cat, for a moment. I was housesitting last week and as much as I love the cats I was taking care of (they really warmed up to me this time and we spent some quality time playing and napping and brushing and stuff -- it was great), my cat is my cat, you know? When I'm housesitting, I'm taking care of someone else's cats. When I come home from it, I'm hanging out with my best friend. And what was really sweet was that I could tell he missed me, too. I had friends over on Saturday night when I got back to my house and my cat just wanted to spend time with me. He's usually really social, but he wasn't interested in the other guests so much. He just needed some mom time, which just about melted me.

So yeah, things are okay for the moment. Some jitters about my first band show on Thursday, but all will be good. I hope you are all well and enjoying the lovely summer weather.

Okay, I take it back. It was a lot of fun to watch the All-Star game. Both Lee and Soriano not only got to play, but they both did really good things offensively and defensively during the game, so that made me happy. And even though my tape cut off about three pitches before the final out, it was still a good time. And really fun not knowing who was going to win because it kept up the suspense in the bottom of the ninth. As if I was watching it live. So yeah, that was great.

And I do, admittedly, feel a little bit guilty for writing about baseball. There is so much going on politically that I feel I should comment on or something, but the truth is, most of it really just makes me sad. I've started reading the news at BBC.com a lot because somehow, it's nice to get word about our country from outside our country. And it's nice to be able to read about other parts of the world, too. Not to mention the BBC's reputation for being if not unbiased, then one of the least biased news sources out there. But really, most of it makes me sad. Schools set up under trees in South Sudan where the teachers haven't been paid in months, but they keep going to teach the kids anyway because they can't not. Killings and kidnappings all over the world for all sorts of reasons. I did laugh this morning at a story about the UK being blamed for a sudden rise in the number of badgers in certain towns in Iraq, and the fact that the military spokesman had to issue a statement saying that the UK did not release man-eating badgers into the towns. But yeah. It's all so big and I'm so small and I don't really know what to do about any of it. I guess all I can do for the moment is to just be aware that there is a world bigger than me out there, and when I have the means, I'll do more.

I have a confession to make: I'm a baseball junkie. As much as I love the All-Star game (which is, meh, only kinda sorta), I hate the All-Star break because it means no baseball for three or four days, save one game wherein yes, you get to see lots of amazing players play against each other, but chances are, you won't get to see the guys from your home team playing, unless they happen to be the starters, which, let's face it, doesn't happen all that often if you're a Cub. I'm so proud that Soriano and Lee got to go to the game this year, but neither one was a starter. Lee was one of four first basemen on the team. I mean, really.

So I taped the game last night because I had band practice and I have done everything in my power to avoid news channels and the Cubs website and so on and so forth so that I won't find out who won until I get home from work and watch it tonight. So if you know, don't tell me. Because really, all I want to do is watch a baseball game and seeing as there isn't a Cubs game until Friday, the All-Star game will just have to do.

It's an addiction. I know it. Better than being addicted to drugs or alcohol, though.

I saw a movie last night called Once. If you have ever listened to a song and fallen in love with it, you'll love this movie. It is, in a way, an hour and a half long music video, but there is a really sweet story involved, too, and two adorable lead actors with great accents, and it's just...it made me fall in love with all of the singer/songwriters I know. It made me fall in love with 5/4 time. It made me fall in love with being a musician and music in general. And perhaps more than anything, it made me fall in love with my guitar. I'm housesitting this week and didn't bring my guitar over yet, but I'm going to have to after band practice tonight because to be without my guitar for a week...not really something I want to think about right now.

But yeah, go see Once. And then buy the soundtrack because it is beautiful.

I got my very first facial ever yesterday. I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten a facial or not, but it’s kind of an interesting experience. I went in expecting that they would give me a bathrobe, throw some green mud on my face and cucumber slices over my eyes and let me sit for ten minutes. Um, no. That’s not how it works.

First of all, they give me this towel with Velcro on it that I’m supposed to wear as if it’s a tube top. But there is also elastic in the top hem of the towel, so it will barely close small enough for me. I’m not a tiny person by any stretch of the imagination, but that towel made me feel small. Which was kind of nice. So I take off my shoes and my top and put this towel on and the woman comes back in the room and tells me to lie down on this thing that looks like an ergonomically designed massage table. I ask if I’m supposed to get under the blanket and she says no. Apparently, she thought I was asking if I was supposed to lie down under the table because yes, I was supposed to be under the blankets. So we adjust and she pulls the blanket up over my chest (barely) and loosens my Velcroed towel. From this point on, I have a sinking feeling that my right breast was just kind of hanging out, though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. Felt like it could have been.

Anyway, she then asks what my skin concerns are and what kind of cleansers I use and stuff like that. I wasn’t expecting questions. My mom made the appointment (we celebrated our milestone birthdays with a trip to the spa), so I expected the woman to already know what she was going to do to me before I went in there. So I answered as best I could while she took off my eyeliner and took out my ponytail holder (which she then hung up very neatly on the hook on the wall with my top). And then she started. I don’t even know how many different concoctions she put on my face. Some of them were lotions, I think, and some were cleansers. Some felt really slippery and I wanted her to wash them off, but I was in this for the sensory elements so I just went with it. And then she pointed this steam gun at my face, so I’m breathing hot steam for twenty minutes. She buffed my lips a little, and then put some cream on my face that apparently had to sit for a while because then she started massaging my hands and forearms. As she finished working with each hand, she slipped it into a plastic baggie and then into an electric oven mitt, so my hands got to bake in lotion for the remainder of the facial. Or chestal. Or backal. I got a sort of massage out of the deal and she even played with/pulled my hair a little. Which was only kind of annoying because I’m sure she still had all kinds of lotions and stuff on her hands when she was playing with my hair, so now my hair was full of lotion, too.

So then she disappears for a while, leaving me breathing hot steam with little moist towelettes on my eyelids and the electric oven mitts on my hands and I start to think what an odd thing this is to do to a person.

She comes back in the room and begins what she later calls “the pain part.” I can only assume she was using a small pickaxe to clean out each of my pores individually. I do know for certain that my nose has never gotten that much attention before in my life. Honestly. It’s not that big of a nose. After a little while, I just had to laugh, which I think kind of scared the woman with her pickaxe. Fortunately for us both, nothing bad happened.

After “the pain part,” she took what I can only assume was a playing piece from the board game Othello (little round plastic tiles where one side is black and one is white and you flip them over when it’s your turn to try to get more of your color showing on the board than your opponent) that made these whirring and clicking noises and rubbed that all over my face for a little while. I have to say, for as much attention as my nose was getting, my forehead was feeling a little neglected. Anyway, the bug-zapper Othello piece lasted for a few minutes and then it was back to the lotions and stuff. Some of them smelled like peppermint, some were really gunky, and then finally, she put a mask on my face. That was really gunky. And about seventeen inches thick. I found myself hoping it was green or blue, but I found out later it was pink. So she puts this pink stuff all over my face, puts new moist towelettes on my eyelids and once again, leaves the room, this time, for about ten minutes. And really, it was all I could do to keep from laughing. Here I am, an intelligent, artistic, creative, independent woman, lying on my back with little towels on my eyes, pink gunk on my face, and my hands in plastic baggies inside electric oven mitts, possibly with my right breast hanging out, and definitely with a hair stuck between the pink gunk and my nose. And really, all I could do was wait for her to come back and undo me. Set me free. Wipe all of the eighteen layers of lotions off of my hands and face. And perhaps the most bizarre thought that went through my mind was, “Are these mitts going to make me lose the calluses on my fingers? Because I kind of need those ones.”

But she came back and undid me. I was expecting to feel rejuvenated and beautiful and fresh when it was all over, and she handed me a mirror to look at myself and I looked awful. Marks from “the pain part” pore cleanse. And so shiny! When did being shiny come back into fashion? I looked like I was in the middle of a serious work out. And then when I stood up, I felt kind of light headed and discombobulated. I’m guessing that breathing steam for twenty minutes kind of dehydrated me. But they gave me a glass of water and ushered me upstairs to get my pedicure, which was a whole other ballgame of weird, but I’ve had a manicure or two before, so I kind of knew what to expect. It’s just stranger when it happens to your feet. The really odd part about it, though, was that the pedicurist kept trying to get me to pick a color other than the color I picked. She thought it was too dark for summer. I like dark, rich colors, especially on my fish-belly-white toes. But she offered me five or six other colors. Each time, I said, “I like this one,” and went back to the one I originally picked.

So I get my pedicure and they tell me I get complimentary make-up now, so they usher me off to another chair and I have to wait while they get my skin-care regimen suggestions. The make-up artist brings over these products and asks what I use normally. I tell her I use vegan products. She asks if organic products are okay. I say organic products are great as long as they don’t contain animal ingredients and are not tested on animals. So she lets me read the ingredients and I see that the second or third ingredient is propylene glycol, which is one of the ingredients used in antifreeze. There are also laurel and laureth sulfates in these products, which I try to stay away from because they tend to either come from animals, or they will dry out your skin and can actually exacerbate problems like acne and eczema. So I say to the make-up lady that I don’t use products with those ingredients because they’re actually not very good for your skin. She gets all defensive, saying that they are great products that a lot of their clients like and that they’re imported from Italy. I tell her I don’t doubt that her other clients like the products, but that I’m not going to buy them because it is my choice to not put antifreeze on my face. She tells me that there are advantages and disadvantages to everything. She then gets snippy about putting make-up on me and I tell her I’ll just deal with it for one day. She reminds me another time or two that they really are good products and it’s my choice to not use them.

So anyway, after my day at the spa, I walked out feeling shiny and greasy and annoying. Which is too bad because in another way, it was really fun to spend the day with my mom. We had a lovely dinner afterwards and had a great time chatting, but I don’t think I’m much of a spa person. I don’t like feeling greasy and to be honest, I still kind of feel oily today, two showers later. I like feeling my skin, not lots of products on my skin. And I felt like even though they did all of these things to open and clean out my pores, that they did an equal amount of stuff afterwards to plug them back up again. Meaning I’ll probably stick with my Trader Joe’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, and my herbal soap (imported from Germany) for my face. I like being a vegan. I like my vegan products.

I’m sorry this sounds like such a downer. I really enjoyed spending the day with my mom and I really did enjoy the experience of going to a spa. There were all kinds of sensations I hadn’t experienced before that were really a lot of fun, and a lot of curiosities were answered, you know? So in the grand scheme of things, it was a great experience and one that I will look back on fondly for many many years. But in the actual sense of the word, not really a great experience, so I probably won’t go back. Meh. Then again, I could decide one day that I want to be shiny again...

Happy birthday, Mom!

I know I've talked about my mom before and how amazing she is and how lucky I am to have her in my life, but I'm going to do it again today. She hits a milestone today (as did I this year) and I'm hoping it's only the halfway point, if that. She is passionate and intelligent and creative and loving and beautiful in every sense of the word. I wish you all knew her because she brightens the lives of everyone she knows. How did I get so lucky to have such a mother? No idea. But I am thankful every day that she is my mom. And yes, I am very aware of how trite these words sound when compared to how much I love my mom, but they're the best I can do.

So happy birthday, Mom! I love you very much and wish you many more years of creating and exploring and just plain having fun.

So I got my driver's license renewed the other day and on my renewal form, they marked me down as "blond." Kinda bugged me. Fortunately, hair color is not actually printed on the driver's license itself.

Unfortunately, my picture is.

Even though my job title says differently, I feel more like a musician now than I have in a really long time. I'm playing more (practicing at home even on nights when I don't have band practice), I'm thinking about it more, I dunno. I'm just more focused on being a musician right now or something. Which is, I think, kind of cool. And it helps me when I'm walking in to work to think that even though I look like all of the rest of these people going to their office jobs that I am not one of them. I have this whole other life going on. Which then somehow makes me feel justified dancing in Daley Plaza to whatever Bhodi happens to be playing at the moment. I really should start making a list of songs I'm not allowed to listen to in public with Bhodi because I either lip sync along or dance or play air guitar or drum on my legs or something. But seriously, how am I supposed to listen to "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" by the Darkness without playing air guitar? How am I supposed to suppress an idiot-sized grin when "That's When I Reach for My Revolver" by Moby comes on? I just don't have that much will power.

Happy fourth of July, everybody!

I spent the day eating hot dogs, watching baseball, drinking lemonade, and wearing gingham.

Okay, soy dogs, the Cubs lost, limeade, and the gingham is black and white, but still. I'm feeling very American today. And for today, I'm okay with that.

We were talking the other day about online journals and the people who keep them and the fact that they have been, as of late, used against prospective employees in certain situations. Persons will either not be hired because of things they wrote in their online journals or they will get fired for it. And when we were first talking about it, I was a little scared. I'll admit it. Especially considering some of the things I've said in the past month. But then I remembered a few things that I would like to point out to anyone who happens to be reading this, whether you've been reading for years or it's your first visit.

1. These are my opinions. Seeing as I do live in the United States, I am still allowed to have opinions and most of the time, I'm still allowed to voice them. You are allowed to disagree with them, but if you are going to prevent me from making a living because of my opinions...well, first off, you're not the kind of person I want to work for anyway and secondly, I think I could make a pretty good case against you in a court of law. My opinions are not interfering with my ability to do my job, nor are they impacting your business in a negative fashion. Ultimately, not offering me a job or taking a job away from me based on my opinions is censorship and, one could argue, in violation of the First Amendment. I think. I could be wrong. But like I said, the things I write in my journal are my opinions and the last time I checked, I'm still allowed to have them. So I will.

2. Some employers are apparently so disgusted by their employee's behavior outside of work that is detailed in online journals that they will lose their job over it. You know what? Your typical job takes up eight or nine hours a day. That leaves fifteen or sixteen hours in the day that people still have to function. And you know what? Nobody is paying me enough to stop me from living the life I want to live during the other fifteen or sixteen hours of my day. I'm sorry, but they're not. Any day job I take is a temporary day job until one of my artistic endeavors takes off. And by temporary, I could mean six or seven years, so it's not like I'm useless to the company in the meantime. And in the same way that I don't bring my daily life to work with me, I don't bring my work life home with me. Those other fifteen or sixteen hours of the day are mine to do with as I please. And since we all know I'm a musician and actor, is it really that hard to imagine that I might spend some of those fifteen or sixteen hours in bars or clubs or meeting people or doing interesting things that the majority of the population doesn't get to do? And I could get fired for that? I'm sorry, but I'm not getting paid enough to make that worth it.

So what this boils down to is that I am going to continue to keep my online journal. And I am going to continue to live my life. I'm sorry if these things might prevent me from being an asset to some company, but really, it's the company's loss.

No, I've not been fired. Yet. I'm just stating my opinions. As I am wont to do in my online journal.

Happy fourth of July everybody!

I honestly think that female fashion is what has held women back for centuries. It's just not comfortable.

Okay, let's talk men's fashion for a minute. Men have pants that are supposed to hang loosely (unless we're talking skinny jeans, but really, unless you're a drugged up rock star in the 1980's, you really shouldn't be wearing skinny jeans in the first place). They have shirts that have the option of buttoning up to the neck or not. Also, adjustable sleeves. Granted, ties aren't the most comfortable things in the world, but men's shoes are wide enough to accommodate men's feet and they don't force men to walk around on the balls of their feet all day.

Women have pantyhose. Women have thongs. Women have high heels. Women have corsets and girdles and underwires. If you look at women's fashion through the ages, it's like a study in torture devices. Well no wonder we don't make the same as our male counterparts! We're too busy worrying about how badly our feet hurt to do anything productive. You know why ladies used to swoon all of the time? Their corsets were so tight they couldn't breathe. Put that outside on a hot day under sixteen layers of petticoats and of course she's going to faint. And let's not even start on make-up. Here, let's put this cakey stuff on your face so that nobody will be able to tell that you have freckles or age lines (because god forbid, any woman should look older than 26) and it will clog up your pores so that you need to wear more of it tomorrow to hide your blemishes, and it will suffocate your skin on really hot days and when you sweat, it will make you look like you're melting.

Sorry. My shoes are kind of hurty today. And I'm wearing boy short panties so that I don't have a pantyline, but I'm also saved from having to wear butt floss.

Aren't you glad I'm back in the corporate world?

So honestly, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now that I'm not pestering people to vote for me online anymore. I kind of hope I get to the next round just so I'll have emails to send on a daily basis again. And seriously, what a great time-waster that was. We all need something like that from time to time.

Anyway. I hope you all are enjoying your July.

Rabbit, rabbit!

Happy July, everybody!

So we got through round one of the Lollapalooza Last Band Standing contest and finished at number 37. Thirty-seven! That's awesome! And for fans of "Clerks," it's a little bit funny, too.

Honestly, I'm floored. Thank you to everyone who voted. I think there were 800 and some odd bands involved in the contest, so to finish round one at number 37 is a pretty big deal. Especially considering my band just got together this year. So thank you. You are amazing.

They are going to announce the top 20 on July 9 and then there is more online voting, so keep an eye out for that. And in the meantime, all of my energy is going to be focused on making the industry people like my little song enough to put us in the top 20. Keep your fingers crossed! And again, thank you so much.