And I have to say, I have a particularly beautiful cat who is really really wonderful. He makes me happy on a daily basis. That's all. He's just gorgeous. And very sweet. And sleeping in my spot on the bed at the moment, which is really cute somehow.

So we played our first headlining gig last night at a very popular venue in Chicago. Everyone who came out to see us says we sounded great. It sounded completely different on stage, but I'm glad the crowd had fun. And thank you all for coming out to see us play, even though it was a really late night. It means the world to me that you were there.

And now I'm just tired. I slept most of the day today, after playing at the sammich shop, and I'm just kind of wiped out. I'm really glad it's only Saturday so I have a whole other day to not do anything important. Which means I'll do some cleaning and some grocery shopping and put gas in my car and find somewhere to donate all of the clothes I need to get rid of. The thing about putting gas in my car -- I'm finding it increasingly difficult to do so. Fortunately, I don't drive a whole lot anymore -- mostly to band practice and gigs -- so I don't buy gas nearly as often as I used to, but I have a really hard time justifying paying over $3.50 per gallon for it. Especially when oil companies recorded record profits last year. So I'm driving my car until it's pretty much running on fumes and I'm half afraid that when I go to put gas in it tomorrow, it won't start and I'll have to take my little gas can down to the local station and get one gallon to bring back so I can actually get my car to a gas station. Kind of ridiculous, I know.

I'm wearing a shirt today from a show I did in 1988. I think this one was my mom's shirt, though. I'm pretty sure she was involved in the show somehow, and I'm pretty sure that even if I still had a shirt that I wore in 1988 that it wouldn't fit now (I'm taller and have boobs). My line in the show was, "Fun-gi," as in I was correcting someone's grammar who was trying to pluralize "fungus." Very me. I was tempted to wear this particular t-shirt to my gig last night so that someone would take a picture of me in it, playing with my band, and perhaps my old music teacher (who wrote the show the shirt is from) would see the picture and get nostalgic. I guess I could just try mailing him a CD and thanking him for making music class really fun in school.

Sorry. Like I said, I'm really tired. Not just physically, either. Which is probably why it's better that I stayed in tonight as opposed to going to see this band play in the hopes that there would be single, cute, straight boys there. I also think I kind of need to get over my current crush before I try dating someone local, because it really wouldn't be fair of me to be comparing this someone local to the idea I have built up in my mind of who this other person is or could be. It's probably not very fair to the object of the crush, either, to have him built up in my mind like this. Hey, guy who I have a crush on? If you happen to be reading this, could you be a jackass for a minute, just to show me that you can be? Because I think it's fair that if I'm going to like you, I should like you, not my idea of you. And/Or, if you really are a jackass, it'd be nice to know that, too, so I can decide for myself whether or not I want to have a crush on yet another jackass. Thanks!

I think I'm going to go to sleep now.

I think, though, that if I'm going to watch Gilmore Girls every time I need to mourn something, that I need to keep more vegetables and negative calorie foods in my house because there's something about the show that just makes me want to eat. Maybe because they're eating all of the time and my chances of eating with them are much greater than the chances of some dreamy guy showing up to my school and me getting to yell, "Because I love you, you idiot" at him.

That, and I want my long hair back. Remind me next time I say I want to chop it off how much I love the ability to put my hair into a ponytail or a french braid or pigtails or whatever, so I won't chop it all off again.

You know, everyone has their own way of grieving. Some people laugh, some people wallow, some people get drunk and buy hookers. I watch Gilmore Girls.

What? Like you didn't already know I was nuts.

If you haven't gotten a chance to watch or read Obama's speech on race, please take a couple of minutes and do so now.

That is the kind of man I want running the country in which I live.

So sometimes things don't work out the way you planned them. You can go into something with lots of enthusiasm and hope and the best intentions, and you watch it all slowly implode around you until the best option is to just let it go. It's always disappointing, but sometimes it's the best choice.

I'm sorry it got so messed up.

But really, I think this is best. I have more time now to devote to the things that aren't imploding around me, the things that make me happy and (luckily enough) bring joy to other people, too.

And, opening day is less than two weeks away. I'm so excited. I just can't wait to have baseball games to pay attention to every day anymore. I miss that! There were spring training games on TV this weekend that I got to watch at least part of, but I didn't get to see DeRosa play. I miss him. And I'm not sure I'm crazy about Derrek Lee's facial hair, but it was so nice to see my boys out playing again. I already have tickets to one game this summer -- I'll have to find some other dates I can go, too.

Hi.

So I would wish you all a happy St. Patrick's Day, but according to the Catholic Church, there is no St. Patrick's Day this year. Apparently any Saint's Days that fall within Holy Week are canceled so people don't have to worry about which one to celebrate -- Holy Week trumps your everyday regular patron Saints. So technically, there is no St. Patrick's Day this year.

Kind of makes me think of the Grinch stealing Christmas or something, except in this case, it's a guy in a pointy hat telling people they can't drink themselves stupid.

Either way, I still like being Irish. I'm not so Irish that I spent the entire weekend smashed out of my mind wearing twelve shades of green, but I did have my yearly Guinness and man, was it tasty.

I would like to say one thing to the guys I saw running around in kilts over the weekend -- kilts are Scottish. Yes, the Irish kind of adopted them with a different plaid many years later, but most people don't know this. They see a kilt and they think Scotland. Scotland and Ireland don't really get along. So you in your kilt and four leaf clover hat are really just telling people you're horribly confused. Or that you're really too highbrow for the holiday, which is very oddly offset by the giant four leaf clover hat. Make up your mind, dude.

Also, to the bars that put up green, white and orange balloons -- St. Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland, and the colors of the Irish flag are green, white and orange. However, the green side represents the Catholics, the orange the Protestants, and the field of white is kind of a buffer zone between them. Catholics and Protestants don't historically get along, and those persons wishing to show their non-support of St. Patrick (be they Irish or not) typically wear orange. So while I think it's lovely that you're decorating your bar in such a way to be welcoming to all Irish people, St. Patrick's day is really about celebrating Irish Catholics, not Irish Protestants.

But anyway. I hope you were safe and drank lots of green beer.

So I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place and the end result is that I am once again awake at two thirty in the morning.

On the one hand, I'm not a quitter. On the other hand, sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to and you have to be prepared to roll with that.

On the one hand, I have one group of people relying on me and I don't want to let them down. On the other hand, I have another group of people relying on me who are also supposed to be supporting me and they're not really and in the name of weeding the one-way relationships out of my life, I'm really tempted to say tough cookies and be done with it. I'm tired of being used.

On the one hand, I feel really physically crappy and tired and worn out, as usually happens when I work myself too hard. On the other hand, if I give something up for my health, I know I'm just going to get lazy.

On the one hand, I need to go shopping. On the other hand, I need to get rid of a lot of the stuff that I have.

On the one hand, relationships skeeve me out. On the other hand, the quiet support and unconditional acceptance of a life partner would be really nice.

On the one hand, there is a lot that I need to say. On the other hand, I don't know if it would actually be heard if I said it so part of me says why bother?

On the one hand, I'm really tired. On the other hand, I can't sleep.

I hope that wherever you are, you're asleep at two thirty in the morning.

Hey.

So we all know that I'm a big fan of dendritic growth, so I have to say a great big thank you to a friend of mine who tole me about this website. Not only is it fun, not only does it encourage learning and growth, but it's socially conscious, too! Go! Waste time! Huzzah!

Hi.

Okay, so I know that our culture in general has changed a lot in the last, say, fifty to seventy years. Women's rights, civil rights, baby boomers, hippies, generation X, all kinds of crap has converged to make our society very different than it was many years ago. And in some ways, the changes have been really good. For example, women's rights and civil rights and a greatly reduced number of lynchings and whatnot. That's a good thing. And we have a lot more opportunities than we ever did before, which, in some ways, is also a very good thing. But it has also spawned an incredibly selfish generation of people. I might even be one of them; I'm not sure. But there seems to be this culture of, "I'm going to keep looking no matter what I have, just to see if there is something better out there," that frankly, is starting to drive me crazy.

No, I'm not talking about relationships, though it is certainly a relevant attitude there. I don't know if you've ever tried online dating or a dating service or hell, even just dating in general, but people are very afraid to tie themselves down to just one other person at a time, for fear they might miss out on someone better. In my experience, this usually backfires and when the "someone better" is found, he or she is turned off by the non-committal attitude of the other person, and the original significant other is turned off by the wandering eye and you end up with three single people who are all hurting for one reason or another. I, on the other hand, seem to find groovy people with whom things just don't work for one reason or another and I leave for my own sake, not to be with someone else, and the person I left can't wrap his mind around that and ends up really hurting. "You'd rather be with nobody than with me?" Yeah. Go back and watch is it "Some Kind of Wonderful?" "I'd rather be alone for the right reasons than with someone for the wrong ones." It's the one with Eric Stoltz and Leah Thompson and Mary Stuart Masterson. Good 80's movie. Anyway. That's not why we're here today.

I am, more specifically, talking about the theater industry in Chicago and the attitude I'm finding more and more amongst the actors here. That being, "I'm always going to keep looking for a better show." Some of you know that I'm directing a show with my theater company. I will tell you right now, we're a not-for-profit theater and we don't (can't afford to) pay our actors. Ours is the kind of theater where you go to A) gain experience, B) do original works, C) reach audiences beyond the little blue haired ladies who go to matinees (not that there is anything wrong with those audiences, but it's good to mix things up every now and again), D) grow as a performer and E) work with some really great people. We do original shows, meaning if anything ever gets published after the fact, your name is associated with it as being part of the original cast. We encourage performers to grow and experiment and to try things they have never tried before. It is, in a lot of ways, a performer's theater.

I have also done work with some paid theaters in Chicago, both on stage and behind the scenes, and while the draw of getting paid to do what you love is very strong, getting paid to do a show does not always mean it is a better experience. If a theater is paying you, they often times feel like they own you and don't have to treat you nicely. They are far less tolerant and are often times, much more about the business side of things as opposed to the performance/nurturing side of things. I have done shows for which I was paid, and then returned to my theater company to do something for free and realized, "THIS is what theater is supposed to be!"

Granted, there are some good paid theaters in Chicago. But I will bet you that the people auditioning for my show are not getting cast at those theaters. They are most likely taking roles where they will get $10 for a performance and will be treated like crap.

I bring this up because I have offered roles to approximately seven actors who accepted, only to call back a day or so later to decline because they got a paying gig elsewhere. You know what? If you've auditioned for a paying show and are waiting to hear back, don't accept other roles in the meantime. Be the better person and turn down the role you know you aren't going to want. It allows the director time to find another actor, and it allows that other actor time to become familiar with their new role. I know, I know, then if you don't get the paid role you wanted, now you don't have any roles, but you know what? That's how it works. There are a million auditions you can go on and if you weren't so sure about the unpaid role in the first place, maybe it's better you didn't take it. No director wants to work with an actor who doesn't want to be there, nor do any potential cast mates. It really just messes with the whole vibe of the show.

Or, if you accept one role, turn down the next offer that comes in. Honor the commitment that is made when you accept a role. No, you might not be getting paid for it, but there is still a lot that you can get out of playing a part beyond financial gain. They say, "There are no small parts, just small actors." I think it is a true sign of a small actor that he or she would accept one role and then turn it down later in favor of another, regardless of the circumstances.

My favorite was one actor who was a little high maintenance, even through the audition process, but he had a good voice and I thought he could bring something to the show. He printed his script and had it bound (which apparently cost him $15). He continued to ask questions from time he was cast through the first rehearsal of the show, only to quit the show after the first rehearsal because he accepted a paid role elsewhere. Now, in this particular case, we're not talking accept it one day, decline it the next. We're talking a matter of weeks. I don't know when the other role was accepted or how long he knew that he might be considered for it. I don't even know when he went to audition for it. But he sat through an entire rehearsal, knowing he would not be part of the show, before he pseudo-apologetically handed in his script. It was everything I could do to not throw the script at him and tell him to never set foot in my theater again. I hope I don't see him again, and I hope he has a terrible time at the other theater and that the show flops. I don't know that I have ever been witness to such gross unprofessionalism.

So let this be a lesson to you -- while you are out looking for the something better, just be honest. If you haven't found what you're looking for, don't take anything. If you do take something, see it through to it's natural conclusion, and stop looking for a little while. Or at the very least, don't try to make yourself look like a nice person as you are fucking your colleagues up the ass. That's just degrading to everyone.

So March, huh? Groovy.

I went out dancing with my girl friends last night and I have to say, it was really fun. Perhaps the one problem with having a guy best friend is that nine times out of ten, when you go out, you don't get hit on. Which, nine times out of ten, is okay with me. But I also went and watched this documentary about dating (that I'm in and gave a song to) yesterday afternoon and I dunno. I kind of felt like flirting. And seeing as I'm still too chicken to tell the geographically challenged person that I would like to flirt with that I would like to flirt with him, I went out dancing with my girl friends. And it was great.

Several years ago, one of my friends would spin records at this bar that was very much the neighborhood bar that happened to have a room for dancing in the back. Not technically records -- I'm pretty sure he played CDs -- but I just mean that he played songs; he didn't spin techno music where one song blends into the next or anything like that. Anyway, the walls had all of these really strange black light paintings on them and it was just a great place to hang out. You could go there and actually dance; it wasn't your typical meat market dance club. And then sadly, several years ago, the place closed because (I believe) they couldn't afford the rent anymore. Ever since, we've been looking for a new Dodger.

I mention this because the place we went last night was almost a substitution. It is totally not a meat market. They just happen to have dance parties there on Saturdays after midnight, once the live bands are done playing for the evening. There were people all over the place dancing like complete idiots and it was great. Nobody was looking at or judging anyone else's dance style (unless said person was slamming into me, in which case, I'd give the back of their head a very nasty look). And as it just so happened, last night was 50's soul night. There were men with pompadours and women wearing horn-rimmed glasses and two-tone shoes. It was great.

And I flirted. Both with a French guy and a very tall man. The French guy was much more interesting before we tried talking to one another -- we were doing this little mimed dance flirtation thing that was wonderful and entertaining and sweet. And the very tall man...

The very tall man is a player. I've met him before and it has been confirmed by his friends that he is, in fact, a player. And I flirted with him anyway. I did not do anything that I regret -- let's be clear about that -- but I'm not exactly sure how to feel about the situation. On the one hand, I have had guy friends before who were total players, who would hit on anything with boobs, but they never hit on me and I kind of have to take offense to that. Am I not just as female as any other woman? Biologically, yes. But I'm not as girlie. Anyway. So here's this very tall man who is known to hit on all things female and he hit on me, too. Yay. I'm kind of excited that a random very tall man finds me at least as attractive as any other woman he has met in the last five years. But it also kind of made me sad because it was really fun to flirt, but I know it's not going to result in anything. Which may be better since my heart is elsewhere anyway. But then he actually called today and left a voice mail message, letting me know he was calling out of obligation. I don't know about you, but I find it extraordinarily romantic when a guy calls out of obligation. Means the guilt trip I laid on him worked.

I'm kidding.

He did call, and I returned the voice mail, out of obligation. We'll see. Most players seem to know better than to try to date me. Most men, it seems, know better than to try. And I once again find myself in a situation where I don't even have time to date anyone, even if I didn't find it a painful chore of a pasttime. But it was really fun to flirt with someone. If nothing else, I should do that more often.