I got into an argument with one of my classmates last night about the nature of the American legal system. She argues that it is great because pretty much anyone can sue pretty much anyone else for pretty much anything. I think it is terrible for exactly that reason. And it got me to thinking and I have realized exactly why it is that I don't want to be a lawyer or a paralegal.

I'm not vindictive enough.

The guy who hit me with his car. Sure, I could sue him, but what good would that do? I wasn't really hurt. I should sue him to recover my ten dollar copay from my doctor's visit? I should sue him so that he'll learn his lesson? I'm not going to sue somebody over ten dollars and truth be told, any good lawyer would laugh in my face. And as far as teaching him a lesson -- maybe I'm being naive, but I'd like to think that he's sitting at home thinking he's just as lucky as I was. I'm lucky I wasn't killed. He's lucky he didn't kill me. Next time, he could kill somebody. So maybe he'll pay a little more attention so next time won't happen.

Am I crazy for thinking that way? Am I, cynic to rival the best cynics, putting too much faith in human nature by believing that a person's pocketbook does not have to be completely emptied before they will learn something?

I'm not saying that all lawsuits are frivolous. Yes, the people who are injured so badly they can't work for the rest of their lives should be able to recover damages from the careless idiot whose fault it was. Yes, criminals who break the law should be prosecuted. But there are also a lot of lawsuits filed that don't need to be. If one person would just step up and say, "Look. You fucked up. I know you didn't mean to, but you did. Don't let it happen again," and walk away from it, how much more efficient would our court system be? Maybe this is why so many cases settle out of court -- those are the suits that shouldn't have even been filed in the first place and the one side knows it, so they settle just to avoid the hassle. Why couldn't both sides realize that sooner and not file in the first place?

I dunno. I don't understand that vindictive mentality. I don't understand the need to make somebody pay for every bad thing that happens in life. Should I sue all of the kids who teased me at school for mental anguish? No. I'm a stronger, more confident person because I had to learn to deal with that and how to love myself even with all of those flaws that they were so anxious to point out. Should I sue my parents for getting divorced and making me miserable at the time? No. Again, I'm a stronger person because of that experience. Should I sue the guy who ran me over? No. I wasn't injured. Should I sue the guy who stole laundry detergent out of the trunk of my car? No. It's fuckin' laundry detergent.

I guess I'm just saying that people should toughen up and take responsibility. No, I was not responsible for getting hit. But I was responsible for realizing that dragging that man to court would be a waste of my time and energy, his time and energy, our lawyer's time and energy, the court's time and energy, and the time and energy of all of our combined families and friends. And I will happily own that realization.

I'm not saying people who have been truly wronged shouldn't seek retrobution. I'm not trying to deny anyone's right to do so. I'm just saying that just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

Does that make me nuts?

I saw a little bit of the segement with Bill Clinton on Dave Letterman last night and I have to say, I forgot what it was like to have the leader of the free world be literate.

Let me say this right quick: I know very little about Bill Clinton's presidency. I am not saying he was perfect and Shrub sucks because he's not like Clinton. Shrub does plenty of sucking on his own -- no comparisons are necessary. I'm just saying it was nice to hear someone talk about politics who has been there and knows what he's talking about.

That being said, he's a very intelligent man. He wasn't bad-mouthing the current administration, but he did find certain areas that gave him pause and he commented on them. Like the fact that we have so few troops in Afghanistan, which is where the real threat lies. He said something about how it's good that Hussein is no longer in power because nobody likes Hussein, but bin Laden is the real threat and perhaps had we pursued that, this information we are just now decoding that is three years old might have been found a year ago. That kind of thing. I kind of got the impression that he was saying that while some of Shrub's decisions have resulted in sort of good things happening, if he had made other decisions, even more better things could have happened. It was kind of nice to hear that perspective. And from someone who can speak extemperaneously without sounding like a total boob.

I think I'm going to have to do another of my almost-patented "I'm not going to drink for a while" things again. I didn't drink last night and it felt good, but I have noticed that the amount of alcohol I consume each time I go out is rising. It's not just one drink, it's three. And while that's okay every once in a while, I don't need to be doing that all of the time. That's too much. So yeah, maybe until the end of the month or something, no more booze for me.

There is very little stranger than riding an elevator that does not play muzak (or music) and suddenly hearing, very loudly and distinctly, a man's voice saying, "Shut up, George."

I hadn't had anything really strange happen to me in a few days, so that kind of made me happy. Thanks, guy who's pissed at George.

So I played a little show in a coffee shop yesterday and made twelve dollars in tips. Not too shabby for such a little place with such bad sound. The microphone only worked intermittantly, and when the guitar was not plugged into an amp, so I had to ditch a couple of my quieter songs, but I think people had a good time anyway. In retrospect, I didn't play one request, but it was a quiet one, so I don't know how well it would have worked out if I tried it. And people say I sounded good. As in, I was belting stuff out like they've never heard me belt stuff out before. That felt good. I feel like I'm ready to go out and play a million venues and open for whoever. It's almost too bad that I'm going to be so insanely busy until...November.

But thank you to everyone who came out yesterday to see me play. And thank you to those of you who threw a couple bucks in the tip jar. Made me feel like an actual musician. Someday...

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

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

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

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

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

My mom. She rocks.

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

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

I rekindled an old friendship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So the universe is still looking out for me. Thanks.

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

No more crushes for me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And my fingers smell like barbecue potato chips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so on and so forth.

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

Have a lovely day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And poof! Just like that, it's all better. Thanks, Blogger guy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marlon Brando has died.

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

My condolences to his family and friends.

Rest easy, big guy.

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

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

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

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

Yay July!

Why yay July?

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

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

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

I know I've talked about him before, but I just wanted to throw in another little note here about my brother and what a great person he is. We fought a lot when we were little, but I always looked up to him. Which is probably why we fought -- he got sick of me trying to be like him. But he really is a cool person. Funny. Intelligent. Caring. Generous. We don't hang out or talk a lot now, but I always have a good time when we do. So thanks and I love you.

And you single ladies out there -- whoever gets him is one lucky woman! Don't miss your chance!*




*He's going to kill me for that.

The thing that really amuses me about my job is that people always preface projects for me by saying, "When you have a minute..." This isn't even a case of, "For you, Brad? I've got five." This is a case of, "I've been sitting here with my thumb up my ass for three days. Thank you for giving me something to do because otherwise, I was going to start ripping my fingernails off with this toothpick I found on the floor."

Find the humor in it. It keeps me from going totally insane.

I don't want to jinx anything, but I talked to the guy about getting a gig last night and things sound promising. Assuming he doesn't immediately think "fingernails on a chalkboard" when he hears my disc. So keep your fingers crossed for me and keep your calendar open. I'm going to need to pack people in there because if I don't make a good showing the first time around, he won't ask me back. But like I said, things look promising from here. Knock on wood.

Career update: I dropped off a CD on Friday at a venue that might book me. The guy who does the actual booking was not there. I was told he would be there yesterday. He was not. I will stop by again after work today. Because as we all know, it's all about bugging people enough so that they book you just so you'll stop bugging them.

Life update: I have a very low tolerance for bullshit. I think we all know this. I don't want it in my life. I try not to perpetuate it and I try not to put up with it. I don't think this is a bad thing. I think this helps keep me healthy. There are a lot of really bad toxins in bullshit. Unfortunately for one of my friends, he found out about this the hard way. He started to play the bullshit game and I refused to go along with it. Sorry if you're disappointed, dude, but I don't do that anymore. I don't have time for it.

Romance update: None. One of my friends had a date on my birthday. I didn't.

Creative update: I think I have a new song in the works. It is going to be bitter and angry and cathartic. It hasn't quite gelled yet, but I was singing it in my head as I drove home from a concert last night, soaking wet, with my heat cranked up all the way so I wouldn't freeze. I'll try to put it with my guitar soon. I have a feeling this is going to be a good one, though, so I don't want to force it.

Random update: I painted my fingernails because I could. I don't like wearing glasses. I will be happy when it is next week. I'm trying hard to not hold my breath, but I find that if I don't, I suffocate. I'm a much happier person when I eat fresh, raw vegetables every day. I'm a much happier person knowing that I have fresh, raw vegetables waiting for me at home. The Triplets of Belleville is a fantastic film with one of the greatest characters produced in a long time (the grandmother). I get irritated by people who refuse to listen to the other side's point of view. I'm feeling old. I still have nothing to do at work. My cat brings me almost unspeakable joy. As does vegan chocolate cake.

It was a really nice day. I made a salad. I had lunch with my surgeon friend. I did my last performance of Floss! (for the time being, anyway). And I got exactly what I wanted -- to see Colin Hay sing "Waiting for my Real Life to Begin." I was absolute front and center. Close enough to see the sweat on his forehead. And I cried. I got the chance to thank him afterwards, too. Apparently, his birthday is on Tuesday and he'll turn fifty-one. Happy birthday, Mr. Hay. And thank you for your music. For five minutes, you made everything okay. And I got the best gift I could get.

Not to mention my surgeon friend got a signed copy of his CD for me. That was like the icing on the cake. Mmm...cake. I still have some in my fridge. Today is a good day for cake.

So thank you to everyone who wished me well and hung out and was there as I was sobbing my eyes out at the show last night. It's not every day you get exactly what you want and then some. Thank you.

Please go see Farenheit 9/11.

It's not about party lines, it's about the fact that exactly the wrong man was installed into office four years ago and he's been doing a terrible job of running things ever since. He has lied. He has caused the deaths of thousands of innocent people. He is an idiot. Why the fuck should he be allowed to stay in office for four more years? Can someone give me one good, solid reason why he should be allowed to stay in office for four more years? If you throw Clinton at me, I'll hit you. If you say it is because of John Kerry's wavering opinions on a couple of things, fuck that. I'm talking about one good thing that Shrub has done in his four years in office that would merit him getting a chance to have four more. One good thing. One good thing that he has done for our economy. One good thing that he has done to make our country safer against a real threat to our nation. One good thing for our environment. One good thing for our schools. One good thing for our senior citizens. One good thing that he has done for the thousands of kids fighting overseas. Because from where I sit, he's fucked all of that up pretty badly. And yes, there may have been past presidents who did just as badly as him. That fact in and of itself does not justify giving this man another term in office. He has failed miserably as President of the United States and should not be allowed to continue in his post.

If Bush was a Democrat and had fucked things up like this, and there was a Republican candidate up against him, I would vote Republican in that election. It's not about partisan politics. It is about us knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that George W. Bush is not the best man for the job. That's all there is to it.

And the week of great music continues tonight in Milwaukee. Yes, Milwaukee. What? It's another suburb of Chicago. See, that's the thing about living in Chicago -- there is the city and the suburbs. And really, anything that isn't the city is a suburb. Joliet. Peoria. Texas.

I don't have much else exciting to say today. I'm on the brink of another song, but I know this is one I can't force. Which is fine. That means it might actually turn out well. And thank you guys for sending me e-mails with encouraging words in them. I think I'm going to e-mail a label today and see if I can send them a disc.

And I get to have cake today. I think it will be cake. It will be something that I can participate in is all I really know. I'm kind of hoping for cake.

Warning: Profanity is eminent.

God fucking damnit all to hell, I've had enough. I've had enough of my fucking day job. Enough. I need to get back on track and start doing the things that I want to do with my life, the things that make me feel useful. The things that I can't do sitting in an office in front of a computer all day.

Which is where you guys come in. I have in front of me the very daunting task of trying to get absolute strangers to listen to my music. It is not going to be easy and I am looking at a lot of rejection. With acting, I can handle the rejection because...well, that's what the job entails. There are a million reasons to be rejected; it's not personal. With my music...I'm going to take the rejections personally. We all know I have self-esteem issues and confidence issues when it comes to the music I write and how I perform it, not to mention the fact that each of my songs is a little piece of my soul as played by a guitar. It's not easy for me, but it is something that I do because I have to. So it's time for me to go out and try to get other people to listen to it and/or let me play in public.

Let me put a little disclaimer in here: I don't want to go into music to make money. I want to get my music out there to counterbalance the mind-numbing monotony of my day job. I will play free shows in little dinky coffee shops if that is what it takes, just so I feel like I'm doing something. So I feel like I'm on the right road. So I have something to look forward to when I go home from work. I'm not in it for the money. I'm in it for the emotional and creative release.

Which is where you guys come in. If you find yourself bored and wondering what to do with the last five minutes before you leave work, shoot me an e-mail asking what I did to further my career that day. Where I played and how it went. Who I talked to. I'm not saying I'll answer (unless you want me to), but with a little friendly nagging, I might just stay on top of this. It's easy to procrastinate when there isn't an urgent physical need to do something. And it's easy to procrastinate by wallowing in the urgent emotional need to do something. So I'm asking for your help to give me the occasional swift kick in the pants. Or, if you live in the Chicagoland area, you are free to actually give me a swift kick in the pants if you ask what I did to further my career and I say, "Nothing."

So that being said, I have a cover for my album, and labels. But I neglected to put "Allowed" on it. So I gotta go back and rework that. And since I'm not coming in to work on Friday, I'll go try to get myself a gig. Wish me luck!

So a different kind of dancing for me last night. It wasn't entirely unfun. I actually had quite a nice time. But this particular kind of dance...after a while it occurs to you that it's really just a room full of people who wanted to get together and twirl. You walk around in a circle this way for a while, then around that person in a circle for a while, then a half-circle around the other person in the other direction, then back to your original partner to twirl until somebody gets sick. And there is something inherently fun about just twirling. Hanging onto another person for dear life as you spin around as fast as your feet will carry you, hoping to get in just one more revolution before the phrase hits and you have to twirl with somebody else. And the people were really lovely. I don't know if they were so nice to me because I was a newbie or because my mom was the caller or because I am a good dancer (I've done this kind of dancing before, but not for years) or because they really are just a nice, welcoming group of people. I was invited to a picnic tonight. I have a concert to go to, so I probably won't go, but I thought that was very sweet of them.

So yeah, lemme know if you ever just want to twirl for about three hours. I'll tell you where you can get your fix. Its a good time.

So apparently a six-fingered baby (and several other people) from Africa washed up onto a nudist beach in Spain.

Huh.

I haven't posted in a while. Sorry about that. Thing is, I still don't really have anything pithy to say. So here is a list of decidedly unpithy things that I can say today.

A belated happy Father's Day to all of the fathers out there. Woot.

A belated happy birthday to my Grandma (it was yesterday. I called her. We chatted.).

My brother and I need to stop dressing alike. It's really getting sad.

I made a cover for my CD, but then neglected to put "Allowed" on it.

I put filler stuff in the space between my baseboards and my floorboards in the hopes that it will keep bugs out. It really just looks like my baseboards threw up.

There is a lot of good music happening this week that I'm looking forward to.

I get older soon.

I really love my cat, more than just about anything. I wish he was a better communicator, though. I speak Dutch and English and Spanish and Beboian at him, and he only speaks to me in cat. It's like he's not even trying. But he does have the sweetest face in the world, so I guess I'll forgive him.

Only about seven weeks left of school.

My stepmother asked me last night, "Are you eating meat yet?" I didn't have the energy to explain that it's going to be a very long time, and seeing as they had picked up some soy margarine for me, I let it go.

A guy I met in London asked me over the weekend (he was in Chicago at the time and we were dancing) if I had lost a lot of weight. He also remarked that I must have been working on my dancing. I think he thought I was somebody else.

Have a lovely day, everybody. Ik zal spoerig achter zijn.

Okay, I got an idea.

Open every piece of spam you get and write down the address from which it came.

Then, from the very same e-mail address at which you received the spam (so they won't have a new address to add to their lists), compose a message addressed to each and every one of the vendors that sent you spam. Give it a title like, "Rokz in my Pantz!!!!!$^#%" And the body of the message should be the family newsletter your Aunt Phyllis sent out in 1974.

Just for fun.

I'm a convert.

If you have never gotten a Thai massage, go get one. Today. If you live in the greater Chicagoland area and don't know where to go to get a Thai massage, give me a holler and I'll put you in contact with the woman I went to last night. She is amazing. She actually combines Shiatsu (though she won't spell it for you, she will tell you that the English translation is "finger push") with Thai massage, so you get kind of the best of both worlds -- muscle work and stretching. And literally, Thai massage is like someone else doing yoga for you. We did Cobra pose. We did Child's pose. And all I had to do was breathe. It was great. She remarked about three times that it was fun to work on someone so "bendy," which, of course, made me think of the Friends episode where Phoebe is trying to trick Chandler into having sex with her so he'll admit he's dating Monica and he says to her, "I'm very happy we're going to have all the sex," and she replies, "You should be. I'm very bendy," so I chuckled a little every time the massage therapist said "bendy," but else than that, it was amazing. I want more.

I've also never really thought of myself as being bendy. I always thought I had the flexibility of a piece of plywood. But I guess I am bendier than some. Most of the persons this massage therapist has worked on, anyway. She said at one point, "You want to get really pretzelized?" That was a really cool stretch.

So yeah, go get yourself a Thai massage. And if you want a recommendation of where to go, let me know. This woman is very good and has very reasonable rates. I know I'll be going to her again.

Yeah, listening to Moby is helping.

I'm listening to Animal Rights right now. I know that when it first came out, people were angry because it was more rock and less electronic than his other stuff had been. For him, he says it was an album that he always wanted to make. He asks his listeners in the liner notes to listen to the whole thing at least once, all the way through. And I have to agree with him. The album is an emotional journey. It starts out all pissed off and angst-y and then breaks through those tough, external emotions to the heart of the matter -- to the pain and the sorrow underneath. The last few songs on the album are so beautiful. They are the tears of release that follow the temper tantrum. And while it felt really good to yell and scream and get all of that crap out, now the absolute best thing that you can do is cry and mourn whatever it was that you were so angry about in the first place. Now you can let go and start again fresh. It's going to be hard, but you won't be dragging all of that past crap with you anymore. Say goodbye to it and find life again.

I know I get redundant with my admiration of Moby as a person and as a musician. I apologize for that. He speaks to me, is all. And for that, I thank him.

I think I have figured out something that will get me out of this colossal funk I've been in. A Moby concert. Yup. I need to see my favorite little bald alien running and bouncing around on stage as he does what he loves so dearly. That'll make me feel better.

Or at the very least, I should pull out his CDs and listen to them again. I have this jones to listen to 18.

There is some good live music coming up soon, in the form of Rachel Yamagata, Liz Phair, Guster, and Colin Hay (even though I'll only be able to see part of Colin's show). So that should help. Hooray for summertime concerts.

So I'm obsessed with weight loss today.

Not really, but I have another weight loss related blog to share with you.

Okay, we all know about the conservation of energy and the conservation of matter theories, right? That basically state you can't create energy or matter that wasn't there before. Though we also know (thanks, Einstein) that matter and energy are interchangeable. Okay, so you can't create matter or energy where there wasn't matter or energy. And if some matter or energy is destroyed, other matter and/or energy is the result, in the proper amounts. Okay, now we're all on the same page.

When people lose weight, where does it go?

Honestly. It would kind of make sense if some people were gaining weight while others were losing it. In the grand scheme of things, all of the weight (matter) would still balance out. But have you ever been somewhere (family picnic, work gathering, etc) wherein it seemed like everyone around you had lost weight? Where did it all go? It doesn't seem to manifest in the form of energy because everyone is still just sitting around drinking. Is it all now in the form of waste material that has been flushed away? Ew.

So yeah, when people lose weight, where does it go? The world may never know.

I keep seeing ads today for low-carb Coca Cola. It is at this point that I want to grab the collective American population by the shoulders and shake them, all the while screaming, "Wake up!!!"

The answer to American obesity is not cutting out carbs. It is not cutting out fat. It is eating less. Period.

Carbohydrates are not the enemy. But let's say, for the sake of argument, that your body type responds well to an Atkins or South Beach type diet, so you choose to eat fewer carbohydrates. Fine. The thing that pisses me off about products like low-carb Coke is that they are a short-cut way to a short-cut diet. Lemme 'splain.

Millions of people are currently of the mindset that if they eat fewer carbohydrates, they will lose weight. The philosophy behind this diet is that we, as Americans, eat too many carbs, which our bodies then store as fat because we can't burn off the carbs as quickly as we take them in. So by increasing the amount of fat and protein we eat, we will reprogram our bodies to burn off the excess fat that was stored when we ate so many carbs. If you do one of these plans right, you will see that eventualy, you get to bring good-for-you carbs back into your diet. However, most people aren't doing the diet right and just think that if they don't eat carbs, they will lose weight.

Giving up carbohydrates is hard, though. All those foods you've grown to love and respect are now products of the devil -- bread, pasta, fruit, etc. So wouldn't it be great if you could still eat all of the same exact foods, but without the carbs, and still lose weight? The marketing department of every major food manufacturer seems to think so. As is evidenced by the introduction of such products as low-carb Coke.

Now here's what pisses me off. If you are going to try to reprogram your body to burn fat, if you are truly going to try to change the way you eat, you shouldn't be allowed so many cheater options. I know, I know, you're all sitting back and laughing at me eating my soy dogs and chik'n nuggets. It's the same problem that so many people have with fake meat products -- if you want something that tastes like meat, eat meat. If you want something full of carbohydrates, eat something full of carbohydrates. You will never actually change your body chemistry or your mindset or your attitude about food and your weight if you spend your entire life eating cheater products. Eating all of the same things, just without the carbs or without the fat or without the whatever-happens-to-be-the-dieter's-enemy-this-year. If you are going to commit yourself to losing weight with Atkins or South Beach or whatever, commit to it. Eat steak three times a day. Eat your vegetables. Work your way back to being able to enjoy whole grains and things. Don't just switch your brand of pasta to a low carb version. You learn nothing and get nothing out of the experience. You will have to give up some of the foods you love. If you can't handle that, don't do this or any other diet. Until you are ready to sacrifice a few things, you're not going to effectively lose weight, no matter what diet plan you are on.

Okay, I'm done ranting about this for now. It will probably come back later. Just call me Captain Carbohydrate.

Once again, everything I really need to know, I learn from Moby. And check this one out, too, just so you don't hate him.

Thanks, Moby!

Goddamnit, I need to stop feeling so blah all of the time!

Pardon my French.

I'm tired of hating my job. I'm tired of dreading waking up and coming here every morning. I'm tired of going to school to learn things I don't give a shit about. I'm tired of having so little to do here that I spend my days surfing the net, reading bulletin boards where people do nothing but argue about bullshit that doesn't matter. I'm tired of the Cubs losing and playing sloppy baseball. Because let's face it, a lot of the runs that the Cubs have gotten recently have been because of sloppy defense on the part of the other team -- dropped fly balls, passed balls, bad throws, etc. You know what I'm talking about. There's been a lot of sloppy baseball played and while it is nice to see the Cubs win, I'd rather see them win because of their own good defense and their own good offense. This is a good team. Solid players. Even with a bunch of the first string players on the DL, there's still a lot of talent out there on the field; they're just not executing the way I know they can and it gets frustrating.

Sheesh, I had no idea I was so upset about the Cubs.

But I'm serious. I've been in a funk for a while and I need to get out of it. I don't know what to do to jumpstart myself, though. I had planned on seeing a bunch of concerts this summer, but several of them I won't get to see because I have to go to class. And I get to make another trek up to Minnesota this summer. I know I sound like a completely insensitive bitch when I say this, but I said goodbye to my grandmother the last time I was up there. Not that I don't love her. Not that I want her to pass -- I will be very sad to see her go. And not that I don't want to see her again. And not that I don't know and appreciate the fact that she would like to see me again. But it's really hard to go up there. Really hard. Imagine having everything that comprises your net of safety and comfort stripped away, so you're standing there, naked on the tarmack, trying to defend yourself against attacks coming from every angle. Only they're not big, airplane landing attacks. These are the dandelion fuzz attacks that get you when you're not looking by taking up residence in your nose and you can't get rid of them, no matter how hard you try to make yourself sneeze. I love my family in the way I know how. I hate being put under a microscope and judged for days on end with no place I can go to regroup and regain my self-esteem. So I'm going so that I can say goodbye to my grandmother and so she can say goodbye to me. And I'm going to be miserable for three days. I know I sound evil and heartless for saying I'm not looking forward to going, but I'm not. I have to be honest about this -- I'm not looking forward to going.

And...I dunno. I'm just...blah. Ik haat mijn baan. I need to be taking active steps to get away from this job. I'm just not sure what they are at this point. Try to get gigs, I guess. I can't audition right now because of school. I don't have the money to make a good, studio album. So yeah, I guess it's time to go pimp myself out to the greater Chicagoland area coffee shops. Woo hoo. I love this part.

So Ronald Reagan died over the weekend. My condolences to his family.

I have an honest question, though. His presidency came early in my lifetime, before I even knew that I should pay attention to who was running the country, not to mention way before I realized that the person in charge could influence the country in one direction or another. I don't know what he did as president that was really spectacular. George Washington, Abe Lincoln, yes. I know what they did for this country that was spectacular. But Reagan? I know he was a decent actor. And I don't think he did anything horrible to this country (though I could be wrong). I heard rumors that they wanted to put him on the ten dollar bill. In response to which I can only ask why? What did he do to deserve immortalization on United States currency? Honestly, I'd like to know. If there's good support for it, I'll be totally behind it. But it would seem to me that if he did something really amazing, I'd know about it. Did the Cold War end during his presidency because of his actions? Is that it? That still...I dunno. I don't know that that qualifies for currency. I could be wrong, though.

But anyway, my condolences to the Reagan family. I didn't know him personally, but he seemed like a decent man and I'm sure he will be missed. The hundreds of thousands of people turning out to see his coffin is a testament to that.

I am becoming more and more convinced that I am either magnetically charged or I have my own gravitational field. Let me explain.

Say you're walking down the street. Say you see another person, doesn't matter age or gender, walking towards you down the street. Say "Sheboigan" six times and spin around in a circle. That part was just for fun. Anyway, this person is walking towards you and is aware of your presence. He/She/It will tend to walk in a straight line so as to avoid running right smack into you, and you will tend to walk in a straight line so as to avoid running smack into him/her/it, yes? Yes. Even if said other person is distracted by a baseball game or stray dog, he/she/it will maintain a straight path that does not intersect with your own, yes? Not in my case. People walking down the street, whether conscious of it or not, will drift towards me. If they are walking in the opposite direction in a generally straight line, as soon as they are within ten feet of me, that line will skew and send them dangerously close to my own personal comfort bubble. If they are walking in the same direction as I, and I try to go around them (as I have a tendency to walk faster than the average bear), as soon as I make a lateral move, they do as well, running into me and/or cutting me off and/or bumping me off of the sidewalk and into the grass. How do I know they are unaware of this little drift? As I say, "Excuse me," they invariably say, "Oh, I'm sorry," and take two giant steps in the other direction. And this doesn't apply only to total strangers. If I am walking down the street with a friend, he or she will invariably bump into me several times before we reach our destination. I make a conscious effort in such scenarios to walk along the lines of the sidewalk, so I know I am walking in a straight line and am not the offending drifter. And yet, collisions still ensue.

My magneticism/gravitational pull also transfers to my car when I am in it. I can hardly go a day without someone almost changing lanes into me. Or drifting over in his/her/its own lane towards my lane as I pass. Or trying to pull out into traffic exactly where my car is already positioned. I don't get it. My car is dark blue -- it's not invisible and it doesn't blend in with its surroundings. And aren't you impressed with my proper usage of it's and its in that last sentence? I am. But I digress.

So yeah, I'm magnetic. Or I have my own gravitational pull. They talk about people with magnetic personalities, or people who are particularly attractive in a physical sense. I had no idea I was one of those persons and I never knew that "attractive in a physical sense" meant getting run into all the time. Perhaps if I was a more social person who actually liked strange people touching me, it wouldn't matter so much. But I'm not. I'm this close to becoming a hermit, which means it is kind of bothersome to always be bumped and pushed and so on and so forth. Is there any way to get rid of my magneticism? If I worked out really hard and got rid of some of the extra mass that is my behind, would my gravitational pull no longer have an effect on those around me? It's hard to say. In the meantime, I think I'll start working on a wardrobe of bubble wrap.

And now back to the hum drum of my every day life. Get up, go to work, come home, go to sleep. Ah, if only it was that boring. The go to work part is, for sure. As expected, it took me all of five minutes to catch up on two days of missed work this morning. So now I'm sitting here with ice on my knee trying to look busy for the next hour until I can go eat lunch. And then three more hours of biding time until I get to go home to my nice, sweltering apartment.

Originally, I thought this weekend was going to be my last weekend of Floss!. This is not the case. I have three weeks to go. The final performance being on a weekend I had wanted to go to New York. I guess it's better that I'm not going to New York because I am worse than broke right now, but I just found out that Moby is going to be King Neptune in the Mermaid Day Parade in New York. That weekend. That Saturday, to be precise. The day selected to celebrate the fact that the earth has made one more rotation around the sun since I was plopped onto it. I could have seen Moby in a parade that day. Instead, I'll be Floss!ing for the sixty-or-seventy-somethingth time. Oh well. Colin Hay is playing in Chicago that night, so maybe it won't be a total loss.

Yeah, prepare yourself for the post-event boring blogs. There are sure to be dozens of them on the way.

I think the part of the walk that meant the most to me was having my Dad come out to cheer me on. We don't always see eye to eye on things, but I know he loves me in the way he knows how and I think he knows I love him the best way I know how. And I think he knew yesterday, when he saw my stepmother's name on my shirt and the names of several of his other family members, that I was doing the walk just as much for him as I was for everyone else who was on my shirt. Breast cancer is not a disease that stays isolated to just the one person who has it. Breast cancer touches everyone that person knows. No, my dad never had breast cancer, but he had to watch the woman he loved suffer from it. He took care of her. He was with her until the very end. And he had to go on afterwards, going to work, living his life. In many ways, my dad is a breast cancer survivor -- he survived his wife's breast cancer and went on to find a wonderful woman to share his new life with. And as much as I walked for those who have fought and those who are fighting now, I walked for those touched by the disease of others. And I think my dad knew that yesterday when I hugged him on the walk. We connected for a minute -- the way I loved him was the way he needed to be at that moment. Those moments do not come often, so when they do, I treasure them.

I did it!

Miles: 40
Dollars raised: $3,950
Liters of water consumed: 5
Liters of Gatorade consumed: 5
Port-a-potties visited: 20
Blisters: 0
Sunburn: minor
Aches and pains: too many to list
Stories shared: too many to count
Connections made: 6
Total walkers: over 2,300
Total crew: 370
Total dollars raised by Chicago participants: approximately $6.3 million
Regrets: none
Reasons to do this again next year: millions

After getting about two and a half hours of sleep Friday night, Tessa and I showed up at 5:30 am to check in for the Avon Walk. There were already hundreds of people there and hundreds more would show up before the opening ceremony at 7:00 am. We had breakfast and danced to the music pumping out over the loudspeakers. While we were waiting for the ceremony to begin, we made our first friend of the weekend -- a woman who came all the way from Lansing, Michigan to walk in honor of her mother, sisters, and aunts, all in the hopes that her efforts will help keep her from getting breast cancer one day, and help create a world wherein her children will never have to hear the words, "You have cancer." The three of us together had great energy and started off the day with much laughter and enthusiasm.

We set out walking north along the lakefront and everyone commented on what a perfect day it was to be out walking. We passed hundreds of people running, riding bikes, playing volleyball, many of them cheering us along as they went. We sang songs and skipped and the miles flew by.

At about North avenue beach, we met Mary and I walked with her a while. She was walking in honor of herself -- a sixty-two year old woman who has just hit her one-year-survivor point. Her breast cancer is protein based -- the kind not many people die from, so there isn't much research or information about it. Nonetheless, she has been through chemo, was breating hard, and was walking a little slowly. The doctors tell her there is a 50% chance her cancer will come back within a year. She prefers to say that there is a 50% chance that it won't. Thank you, Mary, for sharing your story with me and for your wonderful spirit.

They had rest stops and quick stops set up for us about every two miles and each one had a different theme -- margaritaville, the fishing hole, the zoo, etc. There was food, water, Gatorade, medical services, and dozens of people stretching at every stop. And the crew! Each crew member was cheering for every walker, many of them dressed up in silly outfits to go along with the theme of the rest stop. And if you tried to thank them for their efforts (as many walkers did), they replied, "Thank you for walking." I couldn't help but think those of us walking had the easier deal. So thank you to the incredible crew!

And thank you to the men and women who helped us cross the streets, too. I don't know if they were actual Hell's Angels or some other motorcycle gang, but we had about twenty or so motorcyclists waiting for us at various intersections to make sure each and every walker made it across safely, and to check in and make sure those who needed help got it. My favorite was the man wearing a pink and blue striped hat with big elephant ears attached. He kept cheering on the smiling walkers, but seriously, how could you not smile when you saw him?

Our trio made it to the halfway point at Northeastern Illinois University at about 1:30. We were sore, but our spirits were flying. There was a band at that rest stop -- the Damn Hoovers -- and Tessa and I danced the Bojango (from Floss!) while they played for the walkers. For the rest of the weekend, we were known as "those girls who were dancing," and we were thanked many times for our enthusiastic spirit. All I can say is it was our pleasure.

The afternoon was a little tougher, but we kept on going. More rest stops, more wonderful crew members, more stories from fellow walkers. I was staggered by how many survivors walked. Sure, the crowd thinned out as people got into the sweep vans to be taken to the Wellness Village and as those who opted to do 13 miles each day instead of 26 were taken away to rest up, but still hundreds of women and men walked. And by 6:30, Tessa, our Michigan friend and I crossed into the Wellness Village, sore, tired, and 100% thrilled to be there. There's a real sense of accomplishment in walking 26.2 miles.

After dinner, a shower, and more dancing (with Tom Walsh), Tessa and I were in our tent passed out by 10:00pm. Thank you to the Boy Scouts who came out and put up tents for tired walkers! But someone please remind me to bring an air mattress when I do this next year -- sore hips sleeping on the ground don't heal as nicely as they should.

We woke up with the rest of the camp at about 5:00am. There was some general complaining about the lines for the sinks to brush our teeth, but for the most part, everyone was just excited to be up and walking for the second day. The woman in the tent across from ours was injured -- she twisted her knee or something -- and was told not to walk the second day. She had this look of disappointment or embarrassment as she said she wouldn't be walking, despite the fact she had already logged 26.2 miles. To that woman, I can only say, "Thank you. You did an amazing job and you made a difference in hundreds of lives."

By 7:30, we were back on the trail. Tessa and I both wrapped up our knees in Ace bandages to try to keep them from throbbing as we walked. The walkers were a little quieter this morning as a lot of people felt that today was the day to connect with one another, whereas yesterday was about logging miles. I can't even tell you how many people we talked to, or how many stories we heard. Team Maureen, consisting of twelve walkers, seventeen crew members, and four of the most devoted cheering section participants you've ever seen, all in honor of a deceased aunt/sister/daughter/mother. The two women walking for their deceased friend who passed away after a five year battle with breast cancer. She was diagnosed just two weeks after her son was born. The woman walking for her husband's mother and in the hopes that neither she nor her children will ever have to experience breast cancer first hand, unsure she could make it 13 miles. When I asked her if she would do it again next year, she replied, "Yes," before I could even finish the question. And her kids can't wait until next year so they can volunteer, too (they're too young to walk or they would join their mother). The woman huffing and puffing along, determined to make the 13 mile mark because she had only done 20 the day before. Joe, with his whistle, keeping everyone in high spirits, reminding us all why we were out there.

The day went faster, but was really tough as my body was fighting me the entire way. I lost Tessa and our Michigan friend at about the second rest stop, but decided to plod along at the best pace I could to keep the soreness away. I stretched at every rest stop and re-wrapped my knee a couple of times. Lunch left something to be desired, but I had enough snacks with me to keep going. And at about 1:00 pm, I heard the sweetest words than any walker can hear on a journey like this -- "You have 1.1 miles to go!"

With one half of a mile to go, walking along the lake near Buckingham Fountain, I saw Joe again, limping along, still in great spriits, still cheering on the other walkers. Joe, in turn, spotted a friend of his who just happened to have his bagpipe with him. The man joined Joe for the last half of a mile, playing his bagpipe the whole way. As if I didn't have enough energy and endorphins at that point, the bagpipe sent my spirit flying. My feet were burning, but I didn't care. My knee was telling me to stop, but I told it to shut up. I flew past the Aquarium and the Field Museum and then came the finish line.

Every walker who finished before me, every crew memeber, hundreds of friends and family lined the sidewalk for the last two blocks to cheer on the walkers and welcome everyone back to Soldier Field. They had pom poms and cameras and words of encouragement for each person who passed by. I skipped and danced my way through the tunnel of people, giving high fives on both sides, half laughing, half crying. I couldn't believe I made it. I walked every last inch of the 39.3 miles. And as I flew into camp, Moby was blasting over the loudspeakers. Two songs later was "Extraordinary" by Liz Phair. What a perfect end to the perfect weekend!

So I went back to find my friends. I had the energy, so why not, right? I found our Michigan friend in tears as she was beginning the finishing line tunnel. We hugged and laughed and cried and I walked her down the path into camp. She was so happy to be finished and so proud of her accomplishment as she found her mother. Thank you, our Michigan friend, for sharing your weekend with us. I feel so privileged that I got to walk you across the finishing line, and so honored that I got to participate in your life. Thank you for saying hello to us on Saturday morning, and for your enthusiasm. You are amazing.

And then I went to find Tessa. I walked back along the route for probably a half a mile, cheering on my fellow walkers the whole way. They looked tired and defeated, but completely determined to finish. And as I passed each of them, we would smile at one another, knowing we had done something really amazing, knowing we were all in this fight together.

I found Tessa, limping along with our friend Devon who came out to see us finish. She was sore and walking slow, but so enthusiastic! She really amazed me the whole weekend with her determination and spirit. She asked what I was doing and I told her I had to come back and find her so we could dance again at the finish line. We laughed and sang and danced (as best as we could) for that last half of a mile until we got to walk (once again for me) triumphantly across the finish line. Tessa's sisters were there waiting for her and taking pictures. There were hugs and high fives and cheering all around. And then straight to the medical tent for Tessa to find her mother -- one of the medical staff.

And for me, the weekend ended there. With my friend Devon and thousands of fellow walkers at the finish line. I called my mom to come pick me up and found my luggage. I didn't need to go to the closing ceremony; I needed to go home. I danced the Bojango one more time -- 39.3 and still dancing! -- jumped into my car and headed home.

I am changed because of this walk. Like my mom said, it is incredibly powerful to see thousands of people all pushing themselves to their absolute limits all because we believe in the same thing. It is moving and humbling to know that you are taking part in something that is so much bigger than yourself. It is an honor to know that you are making a difference in the lives of so many people.

I thank you guys for your support in this. You were all with me the whole way. When things were getting tough, I would think of you, and of the names you gave me to write on my t-shirt, and I knew I couldn't let you down. You helped me find energy I didn't know I had and you helped me get through the every last inch of the course. And thanks to you guys, for every mile I walked, we are $100 closer to finding a cure for breast cancer. We are $100 closer to a world wherein noone will have to hear, "You have breast cancer," wherein no five year old boy will only know his mother when she was sick, wherein mastectomies are no longer necessary. You guys were my inspiration and my own personal angels. Thank you for every kind word. Thank you for every donation. Thank you for all of your stories that you shared with me. Thank you to those who came out to cheer me on. I can't thank you enough, though I am sure I will keep trying to over the coming weeks. Thank you.

And I can't wait to do the whole thing again next year!

I need another happy blog, so here goes.

Last night, as I was waiting for the train, I noticed the color of the sky out over Lake Michigan. All I can really say is that it was deep blue, but that doesn't quite get it, either. It was so perfectly deep blue that the buildings looked like cardboard cut outs in front of a backdrop. And it was the kind of blue that lets you know everything is going to be okay. I like that.

I signed up for Netflix the other day and got my first three movies yesterday. I haven't gotten to watch them yet, but I am very much looking forward to always having fresh movies in my house. Movies that I don't have to worry about when to return them type movies. And maybe this will spark me to finally start a blog of movie reviews. Though that could be annoying because it wouldn't be searchable in any real form, so maybe this will spark me to finally put up my own website. I know what domain name I want and I have the framework for my site constructed and such; I just have to do it.

I talked on the phone to a very interesting person last night who is just as bad at talking on the phone as I am and we had a lovely conversation. We're going to go see my friend's opera next week.

While it is a little bit frustrating that GarageBand doesn't quite keep up with the rate at which I want to input data, it is kind of neat to listen to my songs with base lines and percussion and stuff. They are, by no means, complete. But it is fun to pretend that I have a band.

I am taking tomorrow and Monday off for the Avon Walk. I'm doing the Avon Walk this weekend. And I will pass the $3,700 mark as far as fundraising for that. Not too shabby.

Mix Tape is showing at the Gene Siskel Film Center again next week Tuesday. Here's hoping there's a good crowd.

I have a few new favorite Dutch phrases/words: "Ik geef niet." "Omdat." "Ik ben slaperig." And thanks to a wonderful site that I found, I think my pronunciation is improving, too.

I am two weeks into my last twelve weeks of school. Meaning ten more classes and I am out of there.

Yeah, I'm kind of reaching with a couple of those, but I'm doing what I can. The job thing is really getting to me and I can't really do anything about it right now. So I'm trying to hang in by thinking about all of the positive things in my life. There are a lot of them. I just need to remind myself of that on a pretty regular basis.

You know how when you don't want to talk about something, you change the topic by saying, "So...how 'bout them Cubbies?" Or if you don't engage in that practice, you may have noticed that other people do. Occasionally, in other cities, people will refer to other teams, but here in Chicago, we like to say, "So...how 'bout them Cubbies?" The thing with this season is, it's too stressful! Talking about the Cubs is turning into an inherently worse activity than talking about anything else. Almost anything else. There are still a few things I will keep to myself. But I can't mask them by talking about my beloved boys in blue. They're scrapping for every win they get, hanging on by the skin of their teeth. I am that close to forbidding myself to watch or listen to games anymore because I get too worked up about them.

But I can't stop loving my Cubbies. They have been a part of my life since I was old enough to walk. I will love them even if they finish in last place this year. But damn, if I'm not antsy for Prior and Wood to get back in the game so we can get a few wins under our belt. And it does make me happy that we seem to have learned how to score late in the game, and how to score with two outs, so at least we're playing more competitive ball than we have in the past. Doesn't make the games easier to listen to, just more exciting.

I was listening to my CD the other day. All the way through. In order. All 17 songs. And I have to say, I have put together a fairly impressive collection of work. Yes, some of the songs are cheesy and stupid, but even they are fun in their own way. And some of the stuff on there is really nice. Mona Lisa can make me cry.

That's it. Just an observation that I am pleased with my music thus far. And to my dear, sweet, tolerant, overly patient Rochester friend who I still owe a CD, one is on the way. And my deepest, sincerest apologies for the delay.

So it comes down to would I be happy with a roommate in a different part of the city? I love my neighborhood. If I'm not living in Europe, I'm happy living in my neighborhood. Granted, it is entirely possible that I could fall in love with another neighborhood, but I won't know until I try it. Also, I love living by myself. I love having my own space where I can be as self-indulgent as I want to be without having to worry about what people think or that they're seeing the scary side of me or whatever. But, for uber-cheap rent, perhaps I would be stupid to not have a roommate for a while. I could save up money to move to Europe. Or pay studio musicians. Or buy my own place. And I would be much less putting my life on hold than I am by going to school, so even if it was a temporary thing, it could be a good thing. Or it could be a disaster. I don't know. And fortunately, I don't have to think about it too much right now, but it is something I should keep in the back of my mind. "Would you be happy living somewhere else that is far away/With lots of stairs and things for you to climb on?" I don't know.