One relationship sorted out, kind of, and I feel infinitely better. I can't even begin to tell you the weight that lifted off my chest, because this was an important one to me. As much as I don't want to admit it, it is. I like this person quite a bit and the thought of things changing between us...I hardly ate yesterday because I just felt sick about the thought of losing him. Shit. There goes my girl/dork flag. Thank you, Bostonian Guy Friend for the cyber hug -- I'm still going to need a real one when I see you in a couple of weeks, but your timing was perfect. *smooch*

Now to get the rest of them sorted out. Time to get the rest of my life sorted out. Make the decisions that I need to make. Pursue the things I need to pursue. Get my ass in gear and get out there.

I have to share this tidbit -- another Chicago musician found my MySpace Music site and really liked the songs I have posted up there. We chatted a bit. Now he has a gig coming up in December and he asked if I'd open for him. I know it's a small step -- a little thing. But it is so beyond flattering, I can't even tell you. It is at a well respected venue for the kind of music I play, and I'm guessing there will be a pretty good crowd, or at the very least, there will be people there who have never heard me play before who might be receptive to hearing some new stuff. I'll send you all more information once it is all confirmed and stuff. But yeah, I thought that was pretty cool -- to be invited to open for someone who I haven't even met yet. I guess I write some pretty good tunes. Yay me.

First off, YAY RED SOX!!!

Okay, moving on.

Most people think of springtime as a time of cleanising and renewal. The time of year to empty out your closets and shed your winter coats and things. I, however, being the complete and total oddball that I am always feel the need to do a cleansing in the fall. Like, now. Time to clean out my closets. Time to scrub my floors. Time to reexamine where I am in my life and how far away that is from where I want to be and to make some changes to bring myself back on track. Time to look at the relationships in my life and see which ones are beneficial and which ones are detrimental. Honestly, I feel like I'm stuck in several detrimental relationships right now and I need to do something about that. They are never easy conversations to have, but they are always necessary.

And I think above all, I need to devote some time to forgiving myself. I've been neglecting myself quite a bit as of late -- letting feelings go unchecked, pumping out negativity, overlooking the basic things that I need in order to stay functional, like a good, healthy serving of vegetables every day. Tomatoes. I miss my tomatoes. Tomatoes just somehow make everything better and it's been a while since I had one. I bought myself two little shaker thingies to bring to my gig yesterday, thinking that I could say to the audience that if they were so inclined, they could pick one up and add to the music because music is so much better when it is shared. But everyone at the gig was kind of doing their own thing -- I was very much background music, so my shakers were not used. But I bring this up because one of the shakers is a plum and the other is a tomato. When I went into the store, I was thinking, "Please let there still be a tomato shaker" and there was. I think I might have cried if it wasn't there and I had to get a squash instead. But thankfully, the tomato was there and now it is perched atop my bookcase, waiting for it's chance to shine.

But I need to retreat for a day or two. Have a good cry. Look myself dead in the eyes and work through some of this stuff. Bring myself back to my happy, asexual, not caring if everyone just tolerates my existence state. I've been very resentful of the fact that I am female for all of the emotional crap that comes along with having the amazing second X chromosome. I need to stop being resentful. I need to stop hurting the people I care about, including myself. I need a day off.

If I can, I would like to start by apologizing to all of you. I know I've hurt some feelings along the way, whether intentional or no. There have been things said that were misinterpreted or misdirected that have caused rifts in some of our relationships. I'm sorry about that. They were misinterpretations. That's all I can say, really. But I'm sorry. I take responsibility for those things and apologize for them and let's move on now, shall we? Holding onto that crap only makes it worse.

I need a day off.

And once again I'm tired. In so many senses of the word, I can't even begin to explain half of them. I will someday, when it has all died down, but not right now.

And once again, the memo didn't make it all the way around major league baseball. The Cardinals were supposed to lose last night. If I was a Houston fan, I would hate the Cardinals with as much vehemence as I hate the Marlins. Or as I hate the Cardinals. A Boston/St. Louis series? Who wants to see that? I do, but only if Boston takes it in four. I want to see the Cardinals crushed and humiliated. Stupidfey Cardinals. Spoiling everything. Sheesh. Go Red Sox!

So not doing my show for three days really took its toll last night. First of all, we had an audience. Not a great audience, not a good audience, but an audience. As in, a few people showed up, paid, watched, and left. That's about it. Which I guess made me try a little harder to get something out of them. Meaning in the scene where I get beat up, I fell too hard to my knees and then hit my head on the stage when I got kicked in the stomach. I've got a lovely bruise on my left knee now, which was already feeling kind of ooky. And then in the cannibalism scene, or actually right before the cannibalism scene, I whacked my knuckle on something, ripping off several layers of skin and creating a nice bead of blood on the back of my hand. Fortunately for the cannibalism scene, I'm eating a bloody hand then anyway, so I was able to sort of tend to my wound in a really sick and twisted way. But it hurt, gosh darn it.

On the up side, our pace was really good and my one friend (who has never seen me perform before) enjoyed the show, so that's a good thing. Here's hoping my body holds out for the rest of the run.

And the Red Sox won and there was much rejoicing.

Yay.

Congrats to Boston for finally beating the Damn Yankees. You do realize, of course, that this now secures the Cubs rights as the only team allowed to bitch about a dry spell next year.

Bless me, Dusty, for I have sinned. It has been a really long time since my last confession.

I have cheered for the Red Sox. I am not from Boston, though I have visited a couple of times and at least one of my very favorite people in the whole world currently resides in Boston, but my heart has always belonged to and will always belong to the Cubs. Chicago is my home. The Cubs are my team. But lately, despite the fact that the Cubs did not make it to post season play this year, I have found myself getting a little bit excited when I see a Yankee/Red Sox game on television. Even more excited when I see that Boston is winning. Is it possible to split one's affections between two teams if each is from a different city and in a different league?

Hail, Cubbies, full of hope, our dreams are with you
Blessed are you among baseball teams, and blessed are the fruits of your bats
Triumphant Cubbies, beloved of the nation, play for us fans, now and in the post season

I'm going to hell, aren't I?

After I graduated from college, I lived with my mom in this funky little house on the north side of Chicago. It really was an odd little house. The only house on our street, really, it was located between a preschool and a used car/mechanic lot. We had a stop light in our front yard, too. I used to tell my friends that if they were coming down that one street and went straight through the light instead of turning, they'd end up in my front yard because really, driving along, this was the last place you would expect to find a house.

This house was about 100 years old and had just about the worst insulation ever. In the summer, it was hot as hell in there. In the winter, it was cold as...hell. Is hell hot or cold? I've heard both, but I don't think it has ever really been decided which one it is. For me, I bet hell is cold just because there is very little I dislike more than being cold. And it was cold in that house in the winter. You could practically feel the wind ripping through the walls. We'd crank the heat and put that plastic stuff over the windows and it was still freezing in there. And, of course, I'm cold all of the time anyway, so it was particularly miserable for me. Not that it was miserable living with my mother -- I loved living with her. We made great roommates. But it was cold and I hated it.

There was, however, a heating vent right next to the toilet in the bathroom, so when you went to use the toilet, your right leg would get nice and toasty. I loved it. Sometimes, I would spend time in the bathroom, just to be near that vent. I love being toasty.

The radiator in our bathroom here at work is the hardest working radiator I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Our bathroom is not particularly large, but it is beyond toasty. It is almost sauna-like in there, but without the humidity. I love it. My little toaster oven of an office can't hold a candle to the warm joy that is our bathroom. I was just in there and it reminded of my days in that strange little house. It was eventually torn down so they could build a police station. It's weird to drive past there now. But I think I will always have a soft spot for pleasantly toasty bathrooms because of that house. Mmm...toasty...

Admittedly, I did not get to watch the Presidential debates, nor the Vice-Presidential debate. I had other commitments at those times. I am, however, reading the transcripts. It's interesting to read the transcripts when so many people are commenting on pouty faces that were made or the general demeanor of the participants -- I have gotten to experience none of that. I found something, though, that pretty much sums up everything I've been saying all along about Senator Kerry, and I would like to share it here with you:

"DEGENHART: Senator Kerry, suppose you are speaking with a voter who believed abortion is murder and the voter asked for reassurance that his or her tax dollars would not go to support abortion, what would you say to that person?

KERRY: I would say to that person exactly what I will say to you right now.

First of all, I cannot tell you how deeply I respect the belief about life and when it begins. I'm a Catholic, raised a Catholic. I was an altar boy. Religion has been a huge part of my life. It helped lead me through a war, leads me today.

But I can't take what is an article of faith for me and legislate it for someone who doesn't share that article of faith, whether they be agnostic, atheist, Jew, Protestant, whatever. I can't do that.

But I can counsel people. I can talk reasonably about life and about responsibility. I can talk to people, as my wife Teresa does, about making other choices, and about abstinence, and about all these other things that we ought to do as a responsible society.

But as a president, I have to represent all the people in the nation. And I have to make that judgment.

Now, I believe that you can take that position and not be pro- abortion, but you have to afford people their constitutional rights. And that means being smart about allowing people to be fully educated, to know what their options are in life, and making certain that you don't deny a poor person the right to be able to have whatever the constitution affords them if they can't afford it otherwise.

That's why I think it's important. That's why I think it's important for the United States, for instance, not to have this rigid ideological restriction on helping families around the world to be able to make a smart decision about family planning. 

You'll help prevent AIDS. 

You'll help prevent unwanted children, unwanted pregnancies. 

You'll actually do a better job, I think, of passing on the moral responsibility that is expressed in your question. And I truly respect it.

...KERRY: Well, again, the president just said, categorically, my opponent is against this, my opponent is against that. You know, it's just not that simple. No, I'm not. 

I'm against the partial-birth abortion, but you've got to have an exception for the life of the mother and the health of the mother under the strictest test of bodily injury to the mother.

Secondly, with respect to parental notification, I'm not going to require a 16-or 17-year-old kid who's been raped by her father and who's pregnant to have to notify her father. So you got to have a judicial intervention. And because they didn't have a judicial intervention where she could go somewhere and get help, I voted against it. It's never quite as simple as the president wants you to believe."

I'm not putting this here to illustrate Mr. Kerry's stance on abortion and say that it is this issue that is the deciding factor for me as to who I am going to vote for. I am posting this here because it illustrates Mr. Kerry's understanding of what his job will be. He will be a representative of this entire nation. He will be representative of one of the most diverse nations in the world. He will be a representative of all of us, not just of those who think like him. Look at his answers -- he says, "...you've got to have an exception...It's never quite as simple as the president wants you to believe." How many times have I said that exact same thing? I like the idea of having a man in office who tries to look at things from more than one angle. I like the idea of having a man in office who listens to what the American people are saying -- all of them, not just the ones he chooses to golf with. I the idea of having a man in office who will vote down a bill if there is one clause in it that he doesn't agree with. I like the idea of having a man in office who doesn't reduce every issue to a simple black and white, right and wrong, but who will examine the entire issue and act accordingly.

Frankly, from reading the two debates that I have read thus far, I don't really like either candidate. They read much more like infantile pissing contests than presidential debates. But then I found this answer from Mr. Kerry and I have to respect it. And I have to respect him for thinking that way. And given the alternative, I have to vote for him.

I love the fall. The colors, the smells, the crisp, cool air, the holidays (not the winter holidays, the fall ones like Halloween and Columbus Day), the rich foods, the warmth. It is days like today that get me thinking about how blessed I am to live where I live and be able to afford the lifestyle I have, simple as it may be. And it is days like today that get me thinking that if I'm paying this much in rent and heat is included, they should be cranking the heat up to about 70 degrees today. It's cold outside! It's cold in my apartment! It's the end of October, for crying out loud. They turned the heat on for about an hour on Saturday and my apartment was nice and toasty for a little while. It has not been on since and my apartment is getting downright chilly. Same with my office. I'm sitting in front of a space heater today because I don't think it was any warmer in my office this morning than it is outside. Good thing I brought soup for lunch today, or I'd never make it.

I hope that wherever you are, you feel the wonderful fall warmth not only in your heart and soul, but also in the temperature of the room you are occupying.

Baby powder smells really good.

Baby powder tastes really bad.

Baby powder dries out your mouth for days on end.

To sum up, do not eat baby powder.

Thank you.

And now I'm going to talk about food for a minute. That's right, I'm going to be a completely unabashed vegan and sing the praises of the wonderful thing that is a vegan diet.

I went to this restaurant last night with my mother that says in really big letters on the front awning "Healthy Korean Vegan Cuisine." This is my new favorite restaurant. The menu has a sense of humor. The plates that they bring out with the appetizers are heart-shaped. The chopsticks are metal. The chef, Chef Dave, is also the waiter and he is one of the sweetest men I've met. So darling. So friendly. And such an amazing chef! The portion sizes were huge and both my mother and I were more than satisfied with everything we tried. So many flavors and colors and textures. And so many of the vegetables used were vegetables that just make you feel like you did something good for your body. You know what I'm talking about? There are certain foods that you can eat that make you feel like you just gave your innerds a hug. You feel all warm and happy inside, like you can feel the nutrients rushing to your organs and your organs respond by saying, "Sweet!" and then they kick in and work extra hard so your whole body feels alive and like it is functioning exactly as it should be. That's the kind of meal I had last night. And true, part of it might have been that I had fabulous company and conversation that inspired dendritic growth, but I gotta give props to Chef Dave for his amazing creations. I'm almost afraid to tell other people about this place because then it will get overly crowded, but by the same token, they deserve it. What the hell. It's called Amitabul and it's on Milwaukee Avenue near Devon in Chicago. So yummy. So friendly. So good for you. I think I may have to go back and take some cooking classes there.

I have also, just recently, discovered the joy that is chai tea. I'd never had chai tea before, until about a week ago. I had a chai soy latte (sweet Jebus, am I turning into a yuppie?) and fell in love. It's like drinking straight nutmeg. And with the soy milk, I'm getting some of my daily protein, too. I'm having some this morning with rice milk (also a new experiment for me) and it's okay, but I have yet to perfect the skill that is making a chai rice milk latte. Without a cappuchino maker. But still, the nutmeggy flavor...I love fall foods. The heartiness of them. The healing, soothing feeling they create in your stomach as you digest. Hearty soups and fresh breads and warm cookies from the oven. And then to know that the stuff you are eating is good for you and not harmful to anyone or anything else...I love being a vegan.

I've been dreaming about vampires a lot lately. Like I'm Buffy and they are chasing me and I know I have to kill them, but I'd rather just run away from it and not have to kill them because I know I don't know how. In my dream last night, I had this really crappy stake that more than anything was just a splinter-producing wood chip and I was running around after a while hitting everyone I knew with it. Most of them were okay, but a vampire or two did disintegrate from my group.

The sad part is that according to several online dream dictionaries, dreaming about vampires is not necessarily a good thing. It could mean that I feel physically or emotionally drained (which I kind of do), or that I know that deep down inside, someone I am drawn to is bad for me. Given everything that has been going on lately, it could also just be a time of year thing. Because the thought of this person being bad for me makes me really sad. I guess part of me knows it, but part of me wants to see what will happen anyway. And in all truth, this person makes me really happy during my waking hours. Maybe I'm thinking these dreams are indicative of the wrong person. Or maybe I'm putting too much faith in my dreams all together. It's just odd for me to have dreams about the same thing three or four nights in a row. Eh. Now that I have an hour here and an hour there to myself, maybe it's time to do some examining of my relationships and figure out which ones are toxic.

You know, it's not like I've ever found this job interesting or exciting or I've ever really enjoyed being here, but this is ridiculous. No, I don't want to be here. No, I'm not ready to leave today. I wanted to be out of debt first. I wanted to have a contingency plan. I want to at least have a schedule that is sort of clear enough that I can apply for other jobs. And the way the whole thing is being handled -- talk about feeling worthless. Yes, I have felt useless and worthless here for years, but this is worse than normal because nobody will talk to us. Nobody will tell us what is going on. I hope they do fire me so I can tell them exactly what a shitty job they are doing. How do you come into work every day knowing that this could be your last day in your office, or it could not be your last day in your office? It's like fucking Chinese water torture. Is it worth continuing this project? Is it worth starting this one? Is it worth filing everything that's on your desk, or will it just have to be shredded in ten minutes anyway? If they would just fire me, I'd know. I could set out a course of action. To be stuck in limbo is the worst possible place to be and I've been here long enough. Which says I could just up and leave of my own volition. Which also scares the shit out of me. Fuck. This was not handled at all well.

Maybe the whole point of interpersonal relationships is that they are not supposed to make sense or be easy, because if they were, we'd get bored with them and/or take them for granted. Maybe this is my lesson to learn in this life -- that it really doesn't make sense and you just kind of have to go on faith. Or maybe I'm a crackpot who is trying to justify a screwy situation. I dunno. I'd rather think of it in the former sense, as opposed to the latter. Maybe that will be my lesson next time around -- to learn to be a crackpot. Or how to use a crockpot.

I watched Super Size Me today. It's an interesting commentary and I think it is very well done. I would very much recommend seeing it. The strange thing for me, though, was looking at so much McDonald's food. That doesn't even look like food to me anymore. I felt kind of sick when the film was over, almost like I had consumed that much grease. Granted, I'm not perfect in my eating habits -- I probably eat more sugar than I should -- but all that fat and cholesterol? Ugh. It just kind of made me ill.

But yeah, go see this film, or rent it or whatever. It is very interesting to see what that diet did to him, and also interesting how many times the one doctor talks about the effects of a high fat diet. I'd like the Atkins diet followers to get the same blood tests and stuff that the guy in the film did, just for shits and grins, you know? Anyway. Yeah, go see it.

I'm nervous.

I don't know if it is opening night jitters or in anticipation of tomorrow. I'm so tempted to back out just because I'm scared. I'll go, I'll do a great job, and I won't get it and I'll be horribly disappointed. I'm not trying to be self-deprecating here; I'm beng realistic. I've been to auditions like this before and I never get them. I am talented, but so are a million other people, you know? It's nothing personal, it's not a slight against me, it's just the way things go. I don't get these kinds of jobs. But then again, maybe I'm due. I don't know if that is a more frightening prospect or not. Either way, I'm all kinds of nervous. I hope it translates well onto the stage tonight. The nervous energy, that is. And then I hope I can actually get some sleep so I don't suck tomorrow.

You know what? If I don't go, I won't get it. If I do go, I might get it, but probably not. It is that "might" that will make me go. Because either way, I won't get it, but if I don't try, I'll only have myself to blame. Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias, si?

The internet is a really strange thing. Really strange. And I'll tell you why.

There is a website where you can go and listen to four of my songs. It didn't cost me anything to put my four little songs up there, but they're there and anybody who wants to listen to them can. Simple as that. But that's not the weird part. The weird part is that people actually do listen to them. And like them. People who I don't know. People just stumble upon this site, have a listen, and send me a note saying they really like my tunes. I've had requests for CDs, requests for a fan site with pictures and stuff...it's bizarre. It's like a little taste of fame. And the really strange part is, I'm still me. I have a band-aid on my finger because my cuticle ripped yesterday and it hurt. And I get messages from people saying I'm the best and I'm their hero and so on and so forth. And I go home and make a mental note of the fact that I need to clean my bathroom sink. It's so bizarre.

I don't think I'll ever be one of those people who abuses her celebrity, assuming I actually become one. The coffee shop where I play likes to give me free tea. I feel bad taking it. I make them charge me for my beverages. Because the way I see it, I'm a person just like anybody else. They are a business that depends on their customers paying for goods and services. I am requesting a service and some goods, so I should pay for it like anyone else. And the one girl who works there feels bad charging me. I don't get it. I'm fantastically flattered, but I still think it's kind of funny.

So yeah, thanks to the internet, this brilliant invention, I have gotten my music out there to total strangers who like it. Someone even said my music is therapeutic. My music. The simple little songs I wrote in my living room that I didn't think anyone would ever hear have touched absolute strangers, thanks to this marvelous invention called the internet. It is so strange.

And now I have to go home and wash the dishes. I've been neglecting my household duties because I've been so busy lately. And while I'm washing my dishes, someone I've never met will be sitting at home or driving in his/her car listening to music that I wrote and wondering what my life is like. I'm not alone in thinking that is bizarre, am I?

So tonight is preview night and for the first time probably since the beginning of the rehearsal period, I felt good about my performance last night. Not great, but good. Not terrible. And looking at the other scenes, I think they look pretty good. I did a decent job with costumes. Not spectacular, but decent. Everyone is dressed at least. It was frustrating for me to put clothes on 13 people in about ten different short pieces with about three weeks to do it because I couldn't come up with a real design scheme or anything. In most cases, it came down to what fit who. But I looked at it again last night and it looks pretty good. Not spectacular, but pretty good. I'm not proud, but I'm satisfied, if that makes any sense. And now I'm rambling, so I'm going to stop. One of these days, I'll get some sleep and I'll be more coherent.

So I am under so much stress right now, my skin is taking it's cues from Mt. St. Helens. It's really not pretty. I kind of blew up last night and it felt good to get it out there, you know? But still, I have a lot of work to do in the very immediate future and I don't know how much I have in me left to be able to get it done. I will get it done. And then I'll cry afterwards.

But on the up side, I rediscovered this hat that I used to wear in college. It's a green-ish brown-ish gray-ish sort of cabbie hat. Nice and beat up. And with my brown overcoat, it makes me look all cute and hip hop-ish. I dig it. It makes me happy to wear it. So that's good. A little bright spot in my sea of chaos.

I love all of the people running around criticizing Kerry for not having a plan to get our troops out of Iraq and using that as a reason to not vote for him. Guess what? Bush doesn't have a plan to get our troops out of Iraq, nor does he have the faintest idea of what to do while we're over there. How do I know this? I've been listening to the news for the past two years. Our guys (by which I mean men and women in service) are still over there getting killed on a daily basis with no end in sight and the only remedies Bush has been able to come up with involve spending more of our tax dollars over there on what, I don't know. If he had a plan, it didn't work. And he won't fess up to making a mistake. He won't say, "Okay, that didn't work; let's try something else." Kerry looks at Iraq, at what is going on over there and says, "Hey, that isn't working. Let's try to think of something else." That, to me, sounds like a good idea. Call me crazy.

I'd also like to link to this endorsement of John Kerry from a newspaper from George Bush's home town because I think it is well written and brings up a lot of very valid points.

I saw an ad on TV last night for a sort of CD player type thing that plays smells. Like an air freshner that rotates the fragrance every half an hour, and you can buy different discs that have different arrays of smells. Granted, I could have been hallucinating after making five sets of fake breasts, but I think it was a real ad. And the first thing that popped into my head was not, "Wow, what a neat invention," it was, "Wow, they're ripping off Harold and Maude." Such a lovely scene, when she plays her odorifics for him. And now, with the invention of this smell player, Maude is no longer a crackpot working on some insane invention, she is a trailblazer in the world of air perfumery. People fifty years from now will watch Harold and Maude (I hope) and not find that scene at all funny or bizarre. It will be mundane. Normal. Harold will be the odd ball for living in a house that smells the way it smells instead of smelling like a cool, mountain stream.

I hate it when they ruin movies for me.

Well, at least I don't have to worry about them anymore. The season is over. It will be at least 2006 before we can say the Cubs made it to two post seasons in a row again. Since 1908. You know, we should just wait and get to the post season in 2007 and 2008 to make it an even hundred years.

I do still love the Cubs. I am excited to see what they're going to do with the team for next year. I hope they keep Walker and Hollandsworth, and I hope Hollandsworth gets healthy. I'd like to see Alou and Nomar come back, too. Because next year is our year, man. Next year. The cry of the true Cubs fan.

We'll see you in the spring!

Okay, so we're only a game out, not a game and a half. Still.

Also, rabbit, rabbit as it is now October.

And also, most states have voter registration deadlines and most of said deadlines are coming up in the next day or so, so if you are not registered to vote, please do so in the next day or two. This is an important election and we all need to get out there and vote, regardless of who we are voting for. Who knows? Mickey Mouse could actually win it this year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock on wood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I thought this was interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, me neither.

Can I get an A?

A!!!

Can I get two Ls?

L!!! L!!!

Can I get an ERGIES?

ERGIES!!!

What does it spell?

Allergies!

What does it spell?

Allergies!!!

I can't hear you!!!

ALLERGIES!!!

WOOOOOOO!!!

Yeah, if only they were that much fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'd like to believe that there is some sort of karmic balance to the universe. That for every great heartache, there is a great rebound. For every great loss, a great gain. I'd like to believe that every time the Cubs are pounded 15 to 6, they will come back and pound someone else by the same margin. I'd like to believe that for every great love lost, there is a greater love out there to be found.

My friends tell me I'm a lonely person, but only if you get to know me. Maybe that's true. And as near as I can tell, there are two ways to deal with loneliness -- either just deal with it or find someone to make you not lonely anymore. I choose the former. Yes, it is a conscious choice. Yes, I am aware of the ramifications of my choice. But I loved very deeply once and it didn't work out and I hurt very badly for a very long time. So I am waiting for my even greater love to come along. I've seen glimmers of it here and there, but I haven't found it yet. And knowing how wonderful it is to truly love someone, I'm happy to wait for that opportunity to come along again as opposed to finding someone to simply fill the void. I'll fill the void with music. I'll fill the void with dance. I'll fill the void with performance and writing. But I'm not going to subject another human being to being the thing to keep me occupied because I'm afraid of being alone. That's not fair to that other person.

Mine is a hopeful loneliness, not a sad one.

I wore one of my sarongs to work today, as a skirt, because I woke up thinking, "I want to be comfortable today." And truth be told, it does look pretty nice. Not necessarily something I would wear if I had a big meeting today or anything, but I don't look slovenly. And this woman who works upstairs commented that it is a very pretty skirt. She said, "I used to wear stuff like that when I was young." And I thought to myself, "Dear God, please don't let me turn out like that when I get old." She's a nice woman, but she's always walking around in such a hurry. Her shoes make more noise than anybody else's because she walks so hard. And she has this kind of stern demeanor about her. She looks to be the sort who was born wearing horn-rimmed glasses with a very practical haircut, you know? And my question is, what happened? What happens to people when they get older that they forget how to live? They forget the joy of comfortable clothing? They forget the pleasure of walking? Not everyone, mind you, but this woman just admitted to me that she used to wear the kind of clothing I just proclaimed five days ago as solidifying my hippie status, and now she wears suits every day and loud, pointy shoes. What happened to her?

I hope I always wear comfortable shoes. I hope I never forget to stop and smell the flowers. I hope I can always allow myself a solitary movie/pizza night once in a while. Bruce Almighty is actually pretty good, by the way. Much better than I was expecting, anyway. Anyway. I think even more than I would be disappointed in myself for changing my musical style or starring in some bit of tripe like Dude, Where's My Car? I would be disappointed in myself if I turned completely into a corporate schill who wears suits and pointy shoes and scares the crap out of everybody when I walk into the room because they know I mean business, even though the business that I mean is very dull and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. If I ever turn into that person, you are all welcome to call me a sell out.

If there was one baseball game you should have been at, it was last night's Cubs game against the Brewers. Three-run homer for the Cubs in the first inning. Grand slam by Derrik Lee in the second. Solo home run by Aramis Ramirez in the third. Two-run shot by Derrick again in the fourth. They hit for the home run cycle. The only thing missing was an in-the-park home run. It was great. We trounced the Brewers and got to do a lot of yelling.

And I heard probably the best random comment I've ever heard at a ball park. After Aramis' home run in the third, a gentleman sitting a couple of rows behind me and off to the right said, "Cue the fat lady." I got a nice chuckle out of that.

So yeah, yeah Cubbies. I've had so much fun rediscovering baseball over the last year and a half. I've always been a fan, but I kind of fell out of it for a while there. I'm so glad I'm back. Wrigley Field is magical. Baseball is satisfying. The Cubs are the greatest team in baseball, even in years when they can't win to save their lives. Thanks, guys, for bringing so much joy back into my life.

I think this job is making me sick. I never feel good when I'm here.

Eh, motivation to get off my ass and do something creative. Like write a children's show to go up next fall. It's something to think about anyway...

It's official.

Grades have been posted.

I completed the Lawyer's Assistant Program.

With straight H's.

H for "honors."

It's like getting straight A's, but in a non-credit program.

So I got no credit hours for my eight classes, just eight H's.

And I can wear my H's like a badge of honor.

Because H is for honor.

I know that for some people, getting married is still the thing to do. It sounds like a good idea at the time, so they go for it. Fine. Groovy. Best of luck to them. But how does one pull one's friend aside and say, "Dude, you're marrying the wrong person?" The answer is, one doesn't. One just hangs one's head and makes that "tsk, tsk" noise with one's tongue and hopes that five years from now, the divorce isn't too terrible.

The thing about being vegan for me is that I don't view it as a limiting diet. I know that sounds completely insane, but I don't see it that way. Yes, there are a lot of things that I don't eat. But for every thing I gave up, I have found three things to eat that I otherwise would not have and I really like those things. I've gotten much more creative in my diet since I became vegan. No, they aren't monstrous, earth-shattering changes, but they are enough to keep me happy. For instance, I own tumeric. I put grapes in my salad. I cooked teriyaki tofu steaks. I would not have done these things if I did not have cause to and I am so glad I have tried all of these things. They're tasty. And sure, there have been occasions where I have not gone out to eat with a group of people because I knew there wouldn't be anything at the restaurant for me, but the percentage of the time that it is an issue is so minor, it's no worse than when I would just not go because I wasn't feeling social.

So I guess what I'm saying is that veganism is not necessarily about limiting your options. It is about exploring different options. I think that if organizations that want more people to go veggie would present it in that light instead of showing the horrors of slaughterhouses and whatnot, a lot more people would be inclined to try it.

I picked up a couple of sarongs yesterday, because I needed one for Floss! and I have to say I am hooked. They are so comfortable and they are actually flattering on me. The only thing is that I feel like my transformation to complete hippie has taken another major step. I slept late this morning, got up, and put on my sarong and I'm walking around barefoot and eating salad. How much more evidence does one need that I am a hippie? Ah well. Hi, my name is Kitty and I'm a hippie.

So I have this little blog thingy. I've been writing in here for about two and a half years. And over that period of time, the wonderful people at Blogger.com have made updates and revisions to their software to make blogging cleaner, faster, prettier, and more user friendly. However, they have recently done something that is not very pretty. They have added this little search bar at the top of my blog. I'm not diggin' the search bar.

Now, I'm sure that for people with newer templates, the little search bar fits in nicely and doesn't destroy the whole aesthetic of the blog. And in theory, it's a neat idea because you could just type in "Moby" and find all of the entries I've written singing Moby's praises. But I have an older template. One no longer available to new bloggers. And the little search bar does not fit in at all with the aesthetic of my template. In fact, it blocks part of it out. I tried making modifications to my template to allow for the search bar, but they didn't seem to work. I even tried making the search bar silver so it would at least be in the same color family as the rest of my blog. That didn't take.

So my dear, beloved readers, I am aware of the problem. I am trying to remedy it. Of course, if any of the wonderful people at Blogger.com knows how I can simply remove the search bar, or move it to a different location in my blog (as part of the side bar, perhaps?), I would be happy to make those changes as well. But please bear with me in the meantime as my blog looks a little crappy.

And I promise I'll stop saying "blog" soon. It's not a very fun word.

When does one cross over from "good friend" territory into "savior" territory? And how does one know when one has crossed? And how does one prevent oneself from crossing?

I ask because I want to be a good friend to my friends, but I don't want to be responsible for saving anybody. If my friends need to talk to someone, I want to be there to listen to them. If my friends need help getting out of a jam, I want them to know they can turn to me and I'll do what I can. My friends are very important to me and I want them to know that I will always do whatever I can for them. But I know that there are people out there with whom I associate who would very gladly take advantage of that and would use me and abuse me and throw me away, if you know what I'm saying, and I know that I have to steel myself against that happening. I have to know when it is okay to say, "No, I can't directly help you in this case, but here is somewhere else you can turn." That kind of thing. And how does one say that without coming off as a collossal bitch?

I guess what I'm saying is that there is very little I won't do for my friends, but I do need to find some time in there to look out for me, too. I hope you all understand.

I have absolutely nothing to say, so let's see how long I can ramble.

I studied regular Dutch verbs today and how to conjugate them. It is actually kind of interesting. Well, very interesting to me as I really do want to learn how to speak Dutch. I keep watching the Olympics and cheering just as much for the Dutch and the Aussies as I am cheering for the Americans. The men's 200m freestyle was hard on me, as the gold, silver, and bronze went to Australia, Holland, and America, respectively. I kinda wish the Dutch guy had taken the gold, but he took silver so I'm happy. But I really do like the Dutch language. And I think I'm decent at conjugating regular verbs. If only I had someone to practice my conjugations on and someone to help me with my pronunciation. And then there's just the matter of vocabulary. The site I have been using (which is very helpful, by the way) doesn't have a vocabulary section, just grammar rules. It will translate things for you, but I'd still like just a list of vocabulary words that I could practice with. It was kind of nice that in some of the exercises, I recognized a word or two. Ik zal leren.

And it never ceases to amaze me, first of all, that people enjoy listening to my music, but secondly, with how many have heard it and enjoyed it, I still couldn't fill even the smaller concert venues in Chicago. I have a lot of work ahead of me if I want to actually be able to do this for a living. And a lot to do if I want to act for a living. It is all stuff that I can do, there's just a lot of it and it gets daunting sometimes. Which is why I almost wish I was on a t-contract -- so it would kick my ass into gear.

And summer is almost over. Even though it never really got here. I need those two weeks of weather so stinking hot you can't move to offset the Chicago winters. Without my scorching heat, this winter is going to be tough. But I have a lot to look forward to. I'm going back into Floss! as Fluflexakuku Tootrini and so far, I like her very much. Imagine Charlie Chaplin as a flightless bird. Yeah, that's her. She's fun.

Anyway, I have a meeting to get to so I think I'm going to see if I can sneak out a couple of minutes early. Because, as we can all tell, I've been very useful here today at work. Uh huh. And I've got a herd of camels who can do backflips just dying to join your circus if you are interested in purchasing them.

Is "herd of camels" the proper term?

It's just a job, right?

You know how you get to a certain point in your life, relatively often if you're lucky, wherein you have to take stock of what you have and get rid of the junk that you don't need or that is weighing you down? You may do it by cleaning out your closets, or you may examine all of the friendships in your life or whatever. You take stock of what you have and you jettison the junk.

I was talking to my mom about my job last week because I had just been talking to the people at work about my job. I'm not happy here. I've not been happy here for four years. I was content for a while, but now I'm just flat out miserable. I hate having to come here every day and pretend like I have things to do when I get here. It's a waste of my time and a waste of their money. And my mom thought of an option that I had not yet considered -- ask them to fire me. I'm an academic employee, which means I work here on a contractual basis and my contract is renewed yearly. When you fire an academic employee, you put them on a t-contract, which is good for one more year but is non-renewable. So my mom asked what would happen if I asked them to put me on a t-contract. I'd have one more year of steady income, and one year to get my ass in gear and look for the kind of work I actually want to be doing. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, huh? But it scares the living daylights out of me. I have no savings right now. Granted, by the time my year is up, I should have a little bit stashed away. And my monthly expenses will have gone down significantly at that point, too. But the thought of leaving a job with a steady income and great benefits is frightening. Especially with the job market being what it is right now. On the up side, a lot more films and television are being produced in Chicago right now. I could just go bust my ass as a PA for a while. And I'd also have a year to figure all of that stuff out. Because the thought of coming in here everyday for an indefinite amount of time is frightening, too. Ik haat mijn baan.

It's just a job, right?

Good movies always make me think about something. That's why I know they are good movies. If I walk out of the theater wondering what I'm going to have for dinner or if my car got towed, it couldn't have been that good of a movie. If I walk out wanting to cry or reminiscing about a love that never was, I know it was a good movie.

Garden State is a good movie.

I know this because I'm thinking about a love that never was, but at the same time won't die. To the point that I've started to think about someone fifty years from now working on my biography, finding out about this love that never was and writing a stirring, emotional chapter in my biography about how I knew this pure love, but never saw it realized and thus remained single my entire life. And how hundreds of men loved me along the road and did everything they could to make me happy, but none of them could live up to that first love, and isn't that just so romantic? And I'm thinking that relationships are not as easy as they look in the movies. They never work that way. Nobody falls in love in a day and actually acts on it. We're all so fucking paranoid when it comes to relationships that even more frightening than the phrase "You're going to die today" is the phrase "I love you." And how messed up is that? And I'm thinking that if I ever meet Zach Braff, I will have to not only compliment him on his film, but also on his musical tastes -- there's a Colin Hay tune in the movie.

And more than anything, I'm thinking that I want to be an actor when I grow up. And I want to grow up tomorrow.

I have a friend who is currently in Athens a tthe Olympics. Not competing -- he's part of the press that is over there. And I can't even begin to tell you how jealous I am. I think what I love about eh Olympics is that it is a healthy form of competition. It's not about who has the biggest guns or the most money or whatever. The country that sends one athlete is just as much in the games and is just as celebrated as the country that sends 500 athletes. It was really nice to see the American athletes get a nice, warm welcome. And it was equally heartwarming to see the warm welcome for the Iraqi delegation. I would like to see Iraqis and Americans competing in various events, and have them both win alternating events, or have them both loose all of those events. Show everyone that we're all just people, you know? Everyone there is there to play hard and do the best they can. Everyone wants to win. Everyone is playing by the same rules. It's too bad we can't resolve all of our conflicts like that.

Someday, I'd like to see some Olympic games. I'd like to be there for the Opening Ceremonies, to see the glory and the spectacle of all of it. But especially in times like these, I'd like to be in a great big room where everyone is accepting of everyone else, all in the spirit of healthy, athletic competition. I dunno. Maybe I'm nuts, but I have to think that it would be nice to be in a room that electric.

...and done.

Unless something goes horribly wrong, I graduated from paralegal school with honors. Straight honors, as in, honors in all of my classes. It's like graduating with a 4.0. That is, unless something goes horribly wrong. But on the final I took last night and the one I just finished taking online today, I am fairly confident that I got the grades I needed to graduate with all honors.

So now what? Now I'm going to go play my guitar in a coffee shop for tips.

More upcoming gigs! Yay!

Same venue, but still. First of all, it means they liked me enough the first time to bring me back. Good thing. And second, it's a chance to just kind of go and get my feet wet with the whole "gigging" thing. The more you do it, the easier it gets. And this is a pretty low pressure venue, so I don't have to be freaking out about being judged too harshly or anything.

So yay. I'm excited that I get to play out some more. I can really do this, you know? Yay me.

*ring, ring*

"Hello?"

"Hi. Yes, I'm trying to reach Mr. John Doe."

"Well, you're obviously not trying hard enough."

*click*

Tee hee.

I've been meaning to write about this all day and I'm just now getting to it. I know, I suck. Please forgive me.

I went to an open mic last night and had so much fun, I can't even tell you. I was flying. And in case you haven't been keeping up with your Kitty Reading, I've not been flying about much of anything recently, so it felt really good. I went with the intention of playing "Regardless," just to try playing it out, you know? But the place I went usually lets you do three songs. So I walk in the door with my mind pretty much made up that I'll cover a Rachel Yamagata song, too, but that I'll just do the two. That's all I really wanted to do. And when I get there, the guys running it both come over and say hi and ask if I'm going to play and I sign up and whatnot. And while they are playing at the start of the night, they said something along the lines of, "We're going to play one more and then Kitty is going to come up and do a couple. She's a very talented Chicago singer/songwriter, and she's played here and at Uncommon Ground at at the coffee house down the street, Red Eyes?" at which point I nodded, "and we're very lucky to have here here tonight. So she'll be coming up in a minute, and a few other people have signed up so it should be a good night." Or something to that effect. The important bit being: I was plugged! They made a special point of mentioning that I was going to play. These guys only know me from playing out. They only know me as a musician. I only know them as musicians. And without asking for it or saying anything, bam! They gave me a nod in their set. I was floored and tickled pink all at the same time. I started thinking, "Wow. I could really do this. I could really be a musician, running around playing gigs. And people other than my family (though I love you very much) would show up to see it." I felt great.

So I got up to play a little later (turns out another guy signed up to play before me, but it was all good) and by that time I was all kinds of nervous. They had built me up to the audience. What if I sucked? So I said, "Hi. I'm Kitty. Originally, I just wanted to play one song tonight, but it's kind of a downer and I started thinking that might not be the best impression to give a room full of people who've never heard me play before, so I'll play two." At which point, people cheered. "Yeah, so I'll play this one first. It's not mine, but it is by another lovely and talented Chicago singer/songwriter, Rachel Yamagata." More cheers. I start thinking, "Oh, crap, they know the song and they're going to be pissed that I'm slaughtering it." But I said, "It's called 'Worn Me Down.'" And I played it. And damn, I sounded good. I got a little bit of the great throaty thing going near the end of the song when I belted it, too, and the crowd went nuts. As soon as I finished the song, they started yelling, "Do three! Do three!" I told them to get back to me after "Regardless." I've played "Regardless" better at home, but the first time a song appears in front of people is never the best. You have to get used to playing it in front of people. Especially when it's so personal. But when I finished, they all yelled for me to do one more. I didn't know what to play, so I closed with "Hamburg." In retrospect, I should have played "Astoria Park" or "That's What You Get" to really seal the night, but they seemed to enjoy all three songs anyway, so it's all good. And I got a lot of nice comments from people afterwards, too.

I know my entries are boring when I'm just telling a story. But I felt so good last night. So good. The fact that they mentioned me in their set, as a kind of "stick around to see this chick, because she's good" thing felt like...it's like I've been recognized by my peers as a legitimate musician. I think more than being booked at a certain venue, that made me feel like I've made it. I'm not just a paralegal who writes songs in her spare time. I'm not a girl who kind of knows how to play the guitar and has a thing for lyrics. It's not just a hobby. I'm a musician. That feels really good to say that. And somehow even better to have someone else say it. Someone who I also respect as a musician, you know?

I'm sure I just offended somebody by saying that. That wasn't my intent. I love hearing from family and friends and many of you are musicians as well. It was just different somehow. Like the difference between your mom telling you your show was good and getting a good review in the newspaper. If that makes any sense.

I'll stop gloating now. I just wanted to make sure I can come back and remember my first official nod as a Chicago musician. It might not seem like much, but it meant the world to me.

Today's topic: Strip clubs.

Yes, I've been to a few. Truth be told, they're no big deal. I always go with a group of guys and aside from maybe one of them who hasn't gotten any in a long time, they all seem pretty nonplussed about the whole experience, too. Let's examine why.

You have a mainstage upon which a girl will come out in some skimpy dress. She "dances" for a little while, which usually amounts to her walking back and forth between a couple of poles, trying not to fall over in her eighteen-inch platform shoes. She's moving in slow motion, because apparently, that's sexy, even though the music being played is thumping techno or bass-heavy R&B. And by the time the second song starts, that's the time for her to take off the skimpy dress, so now she's walking back and forth in slow motion just wearing a thong, because apparently, that's sexy. And occasionally, she'll lower herself to the floor in some seductive way to let someone shove a dollar bill into her garter belt or shoe. And when her second song is over, she puts her dress back on and walks around the club, offering lap dances to the patrons. If someone purchases one of these lap dances, said girl will gyrate (still in slow motion) in front of said patron for a little while, wearing the skimpy dress, which she will then seductively remove and continue to gyrate in front of said patron for a little while. When said gyrating is done, she puts her dress back on and walks around the club some more.

Now, first of all, the girls aren't really dancing. Sure, it's probably tricky in those shoes, but come on. If you want dollars, work for them. You have to do something other than just being naked. I've talked to enough guys who are of the same opinion to know that this isn't just me. You will get the occasional girl who can do some pretty cool things with a pole, and those girls deserve tips. But a lot of them just look bored and uninterested. That, to me, is decidedly not sexy.

And secondly, why put the dress back on? We've already seen everything you have to offer. Not that the dress leaves much to the imagination, but we've just seen you "dancing" naked on stage. Do you really think we're sitting here thinking, "Gee, I wonder what she looks like without that dress? Maybe if I buy a lap dance from her, I'll get to find out." No. We already know what you look like without a dress. So unless you are going to be uber sexy in how you take the dress off (which most of them aren't because let's face it, it's hard to step out of a knit dress gracefully when you're wearing eighteen-inch spiked heels), just leave it off. All this dressing and undressing just gets tedious.

And finally, the drinks in these places. I would think that it would be in the club's best interest to serve strong drinks. Patrons will get drunker faster and spend more money on more drinks and more dances. The drinks in these places are notoriously weak. Which, I guess one could argue makes patrons buy more drinks in an attempt to get drunk, but after about the second drink, when you still have not noticed a trace of alcohol, you start to feel that you are wasting your time and money and maybe you should just go home. Again, I've heard men voice this same opinion, so I know it's not just me.

So all in all, I find strip clubs to be throughly unimpressive. Or at least the ones I've been to. And I've been to a few. Maybe I'm expecting too much as a fellow woman with different ideas of what is sexy and what is not, but I find strip clubs to be decidely not sexy. They do, in a weird way, make me feel better about myself, though. I know I dance better than that.

I'm kind of in love with my new song. I guess that's normal. I think every artist falls in love with his or her work when it is new and the emotions that fueled the creation are still fresh. I sometimes feel like I'm being egotistical when I walk around with my own song stuck in my head. And I know I must drive my neighbors crazy, playing the same song over and over and over again. But I like this one. And Owen likes this one. And that's really all that matters, isn't it?

And please cross your fingers for me. I e-mailed a record label today to see if I could send them my disc. I'm not banking too much on it, but hey, it's a step, right?

I've been in such a foul mood as of late, I decided to have a hermit night last night. I ordered a pizza, watched some TV, and didn't answer my phone. I apologize to my friend who kept calling -- I did get your message, but I really didn't want to talk to anyone or have to explain why I didn't want to talk to anyone. It's nothing personal.

I did write a new song, though. It's kind of haunting and heart-wrenching. I know, big change for me. But it's kind of spooky. And it's one of those songs that is really about one thing, but sounds like it could be about something else. I'm guessing most people will think it is about the something else, and that's fine. I hope that one day the person I wrote it for gets to hear it and I wonder if that person will think it is about the something else. I still need to tweak the ending a little bit. I'm not totally happy with some of the lyrics. But all in all, I like it. It's been running through my head all morning. Maybe because I woke up early enough that I got to play it before I came in to work. But yeah, I think I'll call it "Regardless." That's a good name.

And now I have to go sleep through a meeting. I mean, take minutes at a meeting.