I like my stupid life just the way it is, and I wouldn't even trade it for a flock of screaming pigs.

Thanks, Mr. Elfman.

My mom gave me this tape that I have yet to listen to that talks about a woman's cycle in more metaphysical terms than maybe we're used to. Some women apparently have greater insights at different times of the month and whatnot. Which, I guess would make sense, as we also get moody and irritable and depressed at other times during the month. Its only fair if it balances out. But even though I haven't listened to the tape, I'm trying to pay attention to my moods throughout the month, to see if I have any greater insights or anything. I haven't really noticed any formal patterns or anything as of yet, but I have noticed that for every day I spend getting miserable and down on myself, I have another day wherein I love my life. And today is an "I love my life" day. I don't even know why. I woke up feeling like crap; I've hardly left my house, but I just feel mentally good. I like my house. I like my neighborhood. I like my friends. I like the fact that I went to two parties this weekend whereat I knew almost noone and I still had a blast. I like it that my inappropriate crush seems to be fading, thanks to my friends. I like it that I can get away with having no hair. I like that I have a theater to belong to, and a local bar where they know my name. I like it that my money woes are evaporating. I like it that I figured out a cover of "Porcelain" that is really pretty (I think). I like it that Moby has a new album coming out. I like drinking tea. I should make a note of this day so I remember that I do have them, and so I can figure out when to expect them during the month.

I'm just kind of off today. Have you ever had one of those days when you were positive that you are not of this world? You're just not supposed to be here right now. Maybe tomorrow, this will again be your place, but for right now, it's just not right. Your head doesn't feel like its attached to your body, but even if it was, it certainly doesn't contain your brain at this point in time. You'd really just be better off sitting outside counting air molecules or something. I'm kind of having one of those days. Its a little difficult to concentrate on the ONE THING that I have to do in my office. If I had thirty-seven things to do, I might be able to get myself to do one of them, but this one thing is just not happening for me today. Or it is, but it is happening very slowly. Kind of like my decision on whether or not I'm hungry and feel like eating today. Like I said, today, I'm just off.

But I keep watching/listening to Moby's "Lift Me Up" video. Like I said, it's not an amazing video or anything, but I am very much enjoying the song. I picture myself in a dark club dancing like the guy in orange to this song. I can't wait for him to go on tour so I can see him play it live and dance with other people who love the song, too. And I'm also very much aware, once again, of exactly how much like Wallace (from Wallace and Gromit) Moby looks. That was grammatically odd. Sorry. Moby looks like Wallace. Very much. And I still maintain that Moby is one of the cutest men I have ever met. I now say "one of" because one of the men in the play I'm currently in is also almost sickeningly cute. Very sweet, very kind, just adorable. Doesn't shave his head, though. There are only three of us in the play who do. But yeah, in a really strange way, it seems funny to me that a song called "Lift Me Up" is making me feel kind of grounded and connected to the rest of the world. Thanks, Moby.

They're moving another one of my co-workers and shang-hai-ing her office. Someone new is moving into her office on Monday. She found out about this about an hour ago. There was no plan made for where to put her. We're not terribly surprised, just fantastically annoyed. I really need to find another job. It occurred to me that I could look for jobs elsewhere, and that if I do, my chances of 1) finding something I want to do and 2) finding something closer to the industry I want to be involved in would be much improved. I do love Chicago, though. Especially at this time of year when I get to watch the sunrise over the Chicago skyline. It really is beautiful. New York and LA can't compete in the skyline department, but they could probably afford me more job opportunities. I don't want to move to LA. New York, maybe. I'd be able to eat at Teany whenever I wanted to...but I'd probably have to get a roommate because New York is expensive. Maybe I should apply for a few jobs out there and see what happens before I start rearranging the rest of my life.

And in sets the ick. I can feel it behind my eyes. They feel like they are trying to make a grand escape from my head, but they just need a little more cash so they know they'll be able to survive on the outside. So they're fighting with my sinus passages, trying to squeeze out just a few more bucks, but the sinus passages are resilliant little fuckers and they're not giving anything up without a boatload of mucus attached to it.

What a terrible time to get sick. Oh well. It's gotta happen sometime. At least I kind of have a weekend this weekend. Not really tomorrow, but maybe Sunday I can rest. That's what Sundays are for, right? Resting?

I'm going to be distastefully giddy for a minute. I finally got the video for Moby's new song "Lift Me Up" to play and I have to say I love it. It's not a fantastically superb video or anything, but I really really really like the song. I'm so geeked for his new album to come out! And, of course, there are worse ways to spend three minutes than looking at Moby and watching him perform. And the fun part is, my hair is the same length as his today. One of my cast mates shaved it for me last night. It's not exactly all even, but he did it with no guard on his clippers, so my hair is kind of sandpapery. And apparently, I'm still sexy. My theater friend said I'm "actually" bald now, as opposed to just having really short hair, and he says it looks good. I'm kind of enjoying being a bald woman. But I'll be happy when I have hair again.

Sorry. I kind of got off the subject there for a minute. Yay Moby's new record! If you can check out this song, I would highly recommend it. It's a great dancing-in-a-club-late-at-night-when-its-smoky-and-there-are-lots-of-lights-flashing-and-you're-sweaty-but-so-is-everyone-else-so-who-cares kind of a song.

So in case you were wondering, it sounds like my cousin and her girlfriend are doing fine. Yay! They are so amazing to me.

And after you take a break today, if I could call on you one more time for happy vibes. I know this guy, a man I used to dance with, who has a brain tumor. Prognosis is not good. Kind of a no-win situation and it breaks my heart. He has a beautiful wife, a two year old daughter, and another child on the way. Who he may not live long enough to ever meet. He is going in for surgery tomorrow, which may prolong his life a bit, or it may turn him into a vegetable. His whole family and support group of friends is very positive and they are all determined to beat this. Their faith is staggering. I kind of feel like a crappy friend because I've not really been there for them. At all. But if I could put out there one more request for help, it would be to send good energy to him tomorrow morning as they work to get rid of the mass in his brain. He is such an incredible, loving, giving man. My thoughts are with you, and will be with you tomorrow.

If I could send out a call for good energy/prayers/happy thoughts today, my cousin is donating one of her kidneys to her girlfriend who has been battling lupis for years. Please send them good energy so that everything goes well. I can't imagine the fear and/or nervousness on both parts, and I am humbled by the display of love and generosity shown by my cousin, in surrendering one of her organs so that her girlfriend can live a happy, healthy life. They are both amazing, wonderful women and I hope all goes well today. I'd like them both to be around for a while.

I love you guys!

Couple of random things:

I've been listening to Oingo Boingo again lately. It's been a long time since I listened to them and I've really been enjoying it. This is good music. Instrumentally challenging. Lyrically interesting. Rhythmically fascinating. So yeah, if you don't know Boingo, go pick up a disc and give it a listen. It's really good stuff.

Today is Fat Tuesday. Yay Fat Tuesday. I guess that means I have to come up with something to give up for Lent, which starts tomorrow, right? Even though I'm not Catholic (or even technically Christian anymore), it's kind of fun to give something up for Lent. Maybe I'll give up my totally inappropriate crush. Which means it is okay to indulge in it today. Which is a good thing because I kind of think I have another one now, in that "Hey, you're really talented and funny and sweet and kind of cute" kind of a way. So for today, I will think about my inappropriate crushes and tomorrow, I will give them up.

And now I think I'll go see if I can find any Boingo guitar tabs. It'd be fun to cover one of their songs in my set. It'd be fun to be in a Boingo cover band. Okay, I'm stopping now.

Warning: I am going to be really distasteful and boastful and infantile.

I won the open mic at Uncommon Ground!

Maybe it is just me, but the open mic at Uncommon Ground is one of the more reknown ones in Chicago. It kind of irks me that it is a competition, but I guess it keeps things interesting. And, it is a way for them to "audition" bands without having to book them or pay them. But the open mic there is the first open mic I went to, and the first night I went, I made it to the final three. I have not been a finalist since then. My theater friend thinks I was one time when he was there, but I don't remember that. So tonight, I sang "Ordinary." I've sung it better, but it wasn't terrible. And I made it to the final three. And then I won. The other guys in the final three were "bands" -- each act consisting of two guys and they had harmonies and multiple instruments. And I know the guy running the thing said that it was completely arbitrary who made it to the final three because everyone was really good tonight, and they were. I would not have put me in the final three. But there I was. And I had enough of a cheering section to win the night. Which means I get to go back in July for their open mic showcase thingy, and I won $22, and I am on their radar -- they know who I am now. Kind of.

So thank you to the guy running the open mic for arbitrarily picking me. Thank you to everyone in the audience for cheering for me. Thank you to my friends (old and new) who were there to support and cheer for me. I love you guys and it means the world to me that you were there and stuck around long enough to see me play. Thank you.

But for the record, I still think it is ridiculous that it is a contest.

I dunno. I felt like a real musician again tonight. I haven't felt that in a long time. I could actually do this. I don't just have to stick to the little rinky-dink venues that let anyone play. My music appeals to people. I have a nice voice. I am a musician. Man, does that feel good to say that.

And now I'm done. I apologize for the distasteful happy boasting post. But I'm distasteful and happy and boasting right now. I'll stop.

So at least it is raining and not snowing. That makes me happy.

The world is kind of gray and dreary right now. Makes you restless. Makes you itch for a little push in one direction or the other. Either get really gray and dreary so we can all stay home and drink hot chocolate, or get a little warmer so the trees and flowers will bloom and we can open our windows and go play outside.

Do you remember when you were little, you would ask your friends if they wanted to play? And then you hit a certain age and "play" became synonomous with "having sex" and suddenly, even though you weren't totally aware of what sex entailed, you would ask your friends to "get together" or "hang out" because asking them to "play" was taboo?

I want to go play. As in go splash in puddles or play tag or roll down a grassy hill. But I think it needs to be a little warmer and less wet for most of that. Except for the puddles bit. I just need to be wearing crappier pants for the puddles bit.

So I don't think it's a big secret anymore (except from the people in my office), but I'm looking for a new job. The environment here has just gotten really toxic. I was always willing to put up with my stupid, boring "in the meantime" job because the people were great and the benefits were great and so on and so forth. But the environment has changed significantly and it is miserable coming in here every day -- moreso than it has ever been before. So I'm looking for something different.

I have my paralegal certificate, but I don't want to be a paralegal.

I've been an administrative assistant for the past five years and I'm damn good at it, but I don't really want to do that anymore, either. Unless it is at a talent agency or something like that -- something that gets me a little closer to my industry of choice.

I keep hearing about friends of mine getting these really cool jobs, like at radio stations or casting agencies or what have you and I don't even really know where to start looking for stuff like that. I want to be in a creative environment. I want a job that will challenge me. I want a job that will not make me physically sick every morning I have to go in there. Most of the listings on the three major online job hunting resources are pretty bland. I have my resume posted on one of them anyway, and I've applied to a couple of jobs from the others, but the pickings are pretty slim, as they say. I'm not in a hurry to leave here and I'm not going to leave unless I find something better. But I'm looking for something better. Actively. And if any of you know of anything that I might be good at, please let me know. I learn fast. I know there is no job out there at which I could not excel; it's just a matter of getting through the interview process, you know? And just because this will be another "in the meantime" job does not mean 1) it has to be something I will hate or 2) that I will not stick around for a while. Hell, my last "in the meantime" job has lasted almost five years...

So yeah, any help y'all might have to offer would be greatly appreciated. Even in other cities. If the job is right, I could be willing to relocate for it.

Thanks! And wish me luck!

I like this article. And hey, it was written by a Republican.

I love watching the behavior of two people who have crushes on one another, but have yet to reveal their feelings. The furtive sideways glances, cut short by direct eye contact. Searching for excuses to touch one another in acceptable ways. Adding physicality to anecdotes, so as to move closer to one another. The proverbial pulling of the pigtails. It is so predictable and so obvious, this mating dance we humans perform. And infuriating when I find myself participating.

Why am I so hard on myself for my attractions to other people? Well, first off, I'm always attracted to the unattainable. That's what is attractive about said person because if said person was attainable, that might mean that he/she could conceivably get to know me and fall in love with me and either he/she would tire of me or I would tire of him/her and we'd both just end up hurt. Yes, I have issues with letting people love me. We all know this. We also all know that it is something I am working on, so we don't need to dwell on that. We're looking at the issue at hand, which is me getting annoyed with my own human reactions to other humans.

Secondly, these persons are unattainable. Meaning nothing will happen except I will end up disappointed and hurt. Why do I allow myself to become emotionally invested in people who I know will only hurt me, whether or not it is intentional?

I watched a taped episode of "House" last night. If you're not hooked on that show yet, might I suggest checking it out. It's really lovely. But in this particular episode, a really amazing trumpet player is paralyzed and then gets pneumonia and he signs a Do Not Resusitate order because he doesn't want to live if he can't play anymore. There is this one scene wherein House is trying to convince the trumpet player to let him figure out what is causing the paralysis and the trumpet player calls House on his obsession of curing diseases. He points out that there are some people who have just one thing -- House has medicine, he has music -- that is so all-consuming that they don't have time for "normal" lives -- spouses, the house in the 'burbs, friends, etc. It got me thinking, "Am I one of those people? Is art my obsession?" I have passed up dating opportunities so I could do a show. I have passed up family functions for shows. I put my creativity above all else in my list of priorities, sometimes sacrificing financial security or my health or my physical appearance for the sake of my art. Is that why I'm so opposed to the possibility of dating? It would get in the way of my creativity? It steals too much focus? Or I subconsciously know that that is not the life for me, that my life is to be spent doing things other than sharing a bowl of popcorn with a loved one on a cold winter's day? And how depressing is that thought?

I would like to find someone with whom I can share my life, and who will share his life with me. It's the "getting there" part that is driving me crazy. And hey, I'm a bald chick -- men aren't supposed to find bald chicks attractive anyway, right?

Tee hee.

It's that time of year when I get to watch the sun rise and the sun set every day. I hate that I have to be awake that early, but I am so excited that I get to watch each new day be born. This morning, the sun looked like it does in every documentary I have ever seen about Africa. You know what I'm talking about -- the giant, fiery orange ball, floating in and out from behind the clouds, turning the sky colors that don't even exist in the 96 crayon box. It was breathtaking. And I feel so lucky that I get to see that.

Now if only that beauty didn't have to begin a day of sitting here, at my desk, in this office. I gotta find a different job.

Okay, I have determined that the real function of sleep is not to rest your body, but to rehydrate your eyes. Think about it -- you're walking around all day, looking at stuff, blinking a lot, probably not crying. Your eyes get dry. So at the end of the day, when your eyes just can't keep up with the gale-force winds created by your two-mile-per-hour gait, you go to sleep. Your eyes tell you when it is time for them to close. And if you don't get enough sleep, how can you tell? Your eyes are red and tired and they hurt. Because they didn't get enough time to produce enough tears to get you through the day. And if you go back to sleep for a little while, all is then right with your eyes. Or if you have yourself a good cry.

Sleep. It's not just about dreaming anymore.

You know, it just doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem like it really happened that Shrub was re-elected. Or, elected. Or, that he is in office still. It doesn't seem real. I don't understand how so many people could have voted for him, and how so few could stand up and say, "These poll results are obviously flawed. Something's wrong here." It just doesn't feel like he's still in office. Maybe because I've been trying to once again, not pay attention to politics. It's disheartening to feel so passionately about something and then have it go exactly the way you didn't want it to. I needed some distance. This morning, I went to read a transcript of last night's State of the Union Address and I couldn't do it. I found a transcript -- that wasn't the problem. I got about five paragraphs into it and had to stop. I don't have the energy to hate him for his lies today. I don't have the energy to scoff. Largely because I was out very late last night because it was opening night and the show went really well and the audience loved us so of course I had to go do karoke with the cast afterwards and I was getting positive attention from a guy I have a completely inappropriate crush on (hey, I made it a month without one of those. That's not too bad for me. And I'll quash this one, soon. Don't worry) and my romantic interest in the play gave me sunflowers which had me thinking about Harold and Maude half of the night and I don't know if anyone has ever given you sunflowers before, but they really brighten your day, but I didn't get home until after two o'clock and I didn't sleep fantastically well so I'm very tired though kind of proud of this run on sentence but what it all boils down to is that I don't have the energy to deal with our Commander in Chief right now. Were he to walk up to me on the street, I'd probably just walk away and leave it at that. I'm sorry. I'll get passionate about my beloved country again soon. I'm just tired today.

I got notes! Yay! New stuff to play with tonight on opening night! Yay!

I'm excited for this show to open. I'm frustrated with my job. I'm tired of the cold weather. Something needs to change soon. Except for this show. I want people to come see it and love it as much as I do. This is a good one.

So I guess I should take it as a good thing that my director(s) have nothing but good notes for me. And at the same time, it connects me to my character that much more because she has forever been on a quest to find someone to push her, to challenge her, to make her think outside of herself. It is kind of a disappointment to not find that person. It is kind of wonderful to know that I can keep up with persons who I admire and respect. And it is wonderful to know that I am putting on a great show. I am good at what I do. I am ready for more people to know that.

Just popping in right quick to say, "goddamn, I'm hot as my character in this play."

Goddamn, I'm hot as my character in this play.

That is all.

Lots of good, interesting, exciting stuff happening, but I can't tell you about a lot of it at this point. Suffice it to say that the next few months are going to be jam packed with yummy, creative goodness. And I'll probably get really stressed out and my skin will break out again. Oh well. Small price to pay, right?

And my show opens on Wednesday! I'm so excited for people to see this one. I can't tell if we just crack ourselves up or if we'll crack other people up, too. I hope it's the latter.

Part of getting healthy includes eliminating toxicity in your life, yes? If you identify something as particularly toxic, do what you can to change it, yes? Yes.

I'd also like to know how exactly it is that "major combat" in Iraq ended a year and a half ago, yet yesterday was the bloodiest day for Americans since military action began over there. That would seem to be pretty major to me.

And what's with Iran? We're going to pre-emptively go in there, too? When will it stop?

Sorry, lots of scattered thoughts today. Focus. Get costume pieces. Get haircut. Get filing done. Get through this week.

I am the only person from my department in the office right now.

I wish I had my W-2 and stuff so I could do my taxes or something.

Man, whether or not I drink, I keep waking up in the morning feeling totally shredded. I don't know if it is the late nights at the theater or the joys of a caffeine addiction or what, but I keep waking up totally wiped out. I get better as the day goes along, but something is just not right.

Okay, I'm going to be a diva for a minute. The artistic director of my theater company watched our rehearsal last night and gave us notes afterwards. He had some very specific things to say for specific characters. For me? He likes what I'm doing. Me and this one other guy are "bringing it," in his opinion, and everyone else needs to bring the energy up to where we are. I talked to the artistic director a bit later on and he said he really doesn't have anything for me until everyone else starts challenging me. He then had one comment about my physicality during this kind of weird part of the play and that I can work with, but that was it.

That's it? That can't be it. I know there is more that I could be doing. Granted, the director of the show has some specific notes for me that he won't give me until tonight (for time's sake) and I'm looking forward to those, but still. This is the artistic director. He should be ripping me to shreds. He should call me on my bullshit. He should have something more to say than, "I like what you're doing." I can't work with that. Push me, pull me, rip me apart. Then I can learn. Then I can grow. Then I can try other things I may not have thought of.

I know, it's distasteful of me to complain about not getting notes, or to complain about getting praise. I should be happy that I'm doing a good job. But I hope the director has more to say to me tonight than, "I like the stuff you've been bringing. Keep it up," or blocking notes or whatever. I can kind of see the artistic director's point -- some of the other cast members are still struggling with lines, so it's hard for them to be where they need to be emotionally at this point in the rehearsal process, and the director is naturally going to focus on them. He's not going to worry so much about the actors who are off book and playing and experimenting with their characters and whatnot. He's going to try to get the whole cast to a place where we can actually perform this show first. I get that. That's fair.

But okay, here's a question. And yes, I feel very egotistical asking it and that makes me feel ooky, but I'm going to ask it anyway. If I am the sort of actor who can "bring it" to a rehearsal, who shows up with her lines memorized, who experiments with physicalities and gets her character's arc and whatnot, how come I'm just doing storefront theater? Don't get me wrong -- I love my theater company. I love the shows I have done there. I love the people there. Every time I pick up a piece of garbage someone left in the house and throw it away, I think to myself, "This is my theater and I love taking care of it." I think we put out a quality product. And while it all looks great on a resume, it's nothing I can make a living at. I go and audition for theaters who would pay me, touring companies, what have you, and I bomb those auditions. But I know that if I had a chance to show them what kind of actor I really am, I would blow them away. I know so many people who can nail auditions, but then just turn into a thorn in the sides of their directors. I'm the opposite. How can I change that? How can I get my foot into one more door? I know I can kick ass once I'm there; it's the getting there that is a problem. Is it a matter of getting casting agents to come see the shows I'm in so they can see how I work? Is it a networking thing? Or am I still hindered by the fact that so many of those movies I did so many years ago are yet to be finished and/or seen by people who weren't in them? At what point does it stop being their fault they're not casting me and become mine? At what point does it stop being my fault and become theirs?

I guess I just have to keep plodding along, taking as much as I can from every production in which I am involved. Keep trying to learn. Keep trying to grow. Keep trying to find someone to challenge me. Someday, it will all pay off. It's just a matter of me not shriveling up in the meantime.

So here's me taking one idea and pushing it to it's absolute, most extreme absurdism. Gay men are responsible for female oppression.

Yeah, I'll give you a minute to laugh at the absurdity of that statement. I was laughing even as the thought was forming in my head on the train on my way in to work this morning, but nevertheless, there it was. I think perhaps I am still bitter about one particular gay man, so that's where part of the leap came from, but part of it came from the book I was reading. I love this book -- it really is wonderful to read about female anatomy and female behavior like this. It is allowing me to forgive myself a lot of the things I have spent years resenting, or at least starting me down that path. But anyway.

The chapter I was reading this morning was on female aggression and how cruel women can be to one another. It also delves into social structures and the fact that humans are the only primate that really uses a patriarchial society -- most other primates are matriarchial. In most other primate families, the females stay in their birth locations, and males go off to join other groups once they hit adolescense. This means that females can bond with each other and help each other and form alliances and whatnot. What this book points out is that human males are the only primate males who learned the value of forming alliances with one another. And through the forming of those alliances, they were able to switch things over so that men stayed in their birth communities and women were uprooted. This left women vulernerable and without their support system of mothers, aunts, and cousins, and therefore open to enslavement. So if you take that to it's most extreme absurdism, you get men bonding together to keep women down -- or gay men being responsible for female oppression. I know it's not true, but this is where my mind goes before it is actually awake and after it has spent a whole night dreaming about zombies.

But I do think there is something to be said about the detrimental effects of uprooting women from their birth locations. If you look at any other primate culture, the females help each other out. If you look at the so-called primative human tribes that still exist, and it is the women who work together to keep the community running. If one woman is nursing, her family and female friends will help care for her other children, thus ensuring the health and well-being of all of the community's offspring. If a woman is extracted from that support network, there is no one to help her, except the man who extracted her, making her fully dependent on him for everything. He doesn't want her to be dependent on him for everything -- that makes her "needy" which is very unattractive -- so he treats her badly. She has no one to turn to, so she turns to him more and the cycle continues.

Granted, again I am speaking in sweeping generalities. It's really not as bad as all that; I'm just painting a picture. But there is something to be said for female friendships. Without them, women are dysfunctional. It's true. I don't feel right if I don't have a girlfriend who I can talk to and commisserate with and whatnot. And this does not make me a lesbian. This makes me a woman. It is a very subtle distinction that very few people understand -- even very few women. When I shot Leftover Voices, one of the things the director and I talked about at length was the importance to my character (Celia) of the other woman in the film. Celia wants this other woman, but not at all in a sexual way. Celia was raised by her grandmother and had this wonderful, strong connection with another woman. With her grandmother's passing, Celia was left alone and is now seeking a sort of replacement for that female-female bond. The director felt it was important to get across the point that Celia was not then by default a lesbian. We both felt that Celia was heterosexual, but that she wasn't really thinking about finding a boyfriend right now. Celia knows the importance, even if just on a subconscious level, of having another female in her life, to the extent that she needs to fill that void before she can focus on any romantic interests. But whenever I tried to explain this to people, to say that the film is about Celia trying to find a female friend, eyebrows would always cock in the, "So do the two of you get it on?" kind of a way. No. We don't. There is no need for that, and it is not even about that. It is about having someone to form an alliance with, having someone to talk to, having someone to laugh with in the way that only two women can. I don't know if I am making sense or not and I don't know if it is something that can make sense to you unless you are a woman and have had such a strong friendship with another woman. But it was nice to read about a lot of that stuff this morning on the train and see it reinforced.

So to reiterate, I have nothing against men, I have nothing against gay men, I have nothing against gay women. I'm just really enjoying the book I am currently reading and would very strongly recommend it to anyone else who wants to read it. It makes you think. For men, it might help you understand women a little better. For women, it will help you understand yourself and maybe even make you feel good about yourself. It is doing wonders for me, even if it does make me think silly thoughts from time to time.

Snow is pretty, but a COLLASSAL pain in the ass when you have to get things done. I had to dig my car out of the space it was in and then dig out a space to put it back somewhere last night. I don't even want to think about it today. I have too much to do.

Food delivery people should have GPS systems and websites where you can track them to estimate when they will arrive at your home or office with your lunch or dinner. Just, ya know, 'cuz ya get hungry sitting around waiting for them. It'd be nice to know when they were going to get there.

Oh, and hotels should, by default, have amazing water pressure. Most people staying in hotels don't want to spend fifteen minutes rinsing shampoo out of their hair under a wimpy shower head. Put in the good stuff that'll rinse ya right off with almost no effort. It should be mandatory for hotels.

And every time you meet someone new, they should give you pie. Because everybody likes pie.

I'm wearing argyle socks and I drove in to work this morning behind a fancy mustard truck.

Okay, I feel much better about myself. I donated money to charity and registered to do the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer again this year. I'm excited to do it all again. That link over on the side to my Avon Walk blog will give you more info about the whole thing as I go along, so I'm not going to gush about it too much over here. But if you want to get a head start on the festivities or make a donation, my Avon Walk donation page is up and running.

I like helping people. I like doing good things. I need to remember that when I'm having a crappy, cranky day. Doing good things always makes me feel better.

Ready? Set? Commence Bitchfest 2005!

Okay, so I totally screwed the pooch at the Boom Chicago audition. Granted, I knew I would this year. This year was going to be my practice year so next year, I can go in and rock their worlds. But I so did not rock yesterday and I'm kind of disappointed in myself for that. Oddly enough, fucknut (still an appropriate name) was helpful and comforting about it. He said that if I really want to get there, I will. It's so weird to have him as a good friend. So weird. Anyway, that's not bitching, so we'll be moving on.

My show on February 12 got cancelled due to licensing issues with the venue. Not just my show, all shows starting with the ones this weekend got cancelled. Suck, huh?

My head hurts today. That one is my own damn fault because I probably shouldn't have had that last beer last night, but I was really enjoying hanging out with the boys, you know? Just a chill evening, listening to music and blah blah blah. It was fun. Thanks for having me over last night. But my head hurts today.

My alarm didn't go off this morning, so I was late to work. About which I feel very guilty. I hate this job. I really do. I hate having to get up in the morning and come in here and fend off phone calls from impatient people who need things done that I can't get done and all I can do about it is pester my boss who seems to be the only busy person in the place. It's frustrating to be completely unable to help him. It's frustrating to not have anything to do because I can't even get enough time with him to find out what I can do to help him. As much as I love surfing the net, I'm fucking sick of it. I'm tired of coming in here every day. I'm tired of having to pretend that this job is okay with me.

I'm also tired of the mudane bits of life. I'm tired of having to eat every day. I'm tired of having to fill my car with gas and go grocery shopping and wear clean clothes and blah blah blah. I've eaten so much food in my lifetime already -- shouldn't that last me for a while?

My costuming budget is lower than I thought it was going to be. And I have much less time than I thought I would to pull everything together, so as much as I would like to participate in the "Not One Red Cent" thing that is going on today (in protest of Shrub's inaugeration, you're not supposed to spend any money today), I think I'm going to have to go to the fabric store so I can get cracking on some of this stuff. Originally, there were going to be two of us splitting the costuming duties, but the prop person backed out and the other costume lady is now the prop lady, so once again, I'm stuck doing the whole thing myself. In addition to performing in this show. I hate doing that because then I can't see the whole stage picture. And because it throws me off in rehearsal to be thinking, "Okay, it's about five minutes until I'm on, I could go through one more bin..."

My hair is long enough now that my hat mushes it down. Yes, it makes me happy that it grows so quickly, but I was kind of enjoying the zero maintenence aspect of it.

I think that's all. I'm just cranky today. There is a lot of good in my life, I'm just cranky today. Today is what is commonly referred to as "not a good day." But that can change, and probably will. Maybe I'll go sign up for the Avon Walk and make myself feel better.

Ready? Set? Commence Bitchfest 2005!

Okay, so I totally screwed the pooch at the Boom Chicago audition. Granted, I knew I would this year. This year was going to be my practice year so next year, I can go in and rock their worlds. But I so did not rock yesterday and I'm kind of disappointed in myself for that. Oddly enough, fucknut (still an appropriate name) was helpful and comforting about it. He said that if I really want to get there, I will. It's so weird to have him as a good friend. So weird. Anyway, that's not bitching, so we'll be moving on.

My show on February 12 got cancelled due to licensing issues with the venue. Not just my show, all shows starting with the ones this weekend got cancelled. Suck, huh?

My head hurts today. That one is my own damn fault because I probably shouldn't have had that last beer last night, but I was really enjoying hanging out with the boys, you know? Just a chill evening, listening to music and blah blah blah. It was fun. Thanks for having me over last night. But my head hurts today.

My alarm didn't go off this morning, so I was late to work. About which I feel very guilty. I hate this job. I really do. I hate having to get up in the morning and come in here and fend off phone calls from impatient people who need things done that I can't get done and all I can do about it is pester my boss who seems to be the only busy person in the place. It's frustrating to be completely unable to help him. It's frustrating to not have anything to do because I can't even get enough time with him to find out what I can do to help him. As much as I love surfing the net, I'm fucking sick of it. I'm tired of coming in here every day. I'm tired of having to pretend that this job is okay with me.

I'm also tired of the mudane bits of life. I'm tired of having to eat every day. I'm tired of having to fill my car with gas and go grocery shopping and wear clean clothes and blah blah blah. I've eaten so much food in my lifetime already -- shouldn't that last me for a while?

My costuming budget is lower than I thought it was going to be. And I have much less time than I thought I would to pull everything together, so as much as I would like to participate in the "Not One Red Cent" thing that is going on today (in protest of Shrub's inaugeration, you're not supposed to spend any money today), I think I'm going to have to go to the fabric store so I can get cracking on some of this stuff. Originally, there were going to be two of us splitting the costuming duties, but the prop person backed out and the other costume lady is now the prop lady, so once again, I'm stuck doing the whole thing myself. In addition to performing in this show. I hate doing that because then I can't see the whole stage picture. And because it throws me off in rehearsal to be thinking, "Okay, it's about five minutes until I'm on, I could go through one more bin..."

My hair is long enough now that my hat mushes it down. Yes, it makes me happy that it grows so quickly, but I was kind of enjoying the zero maintenence aspect of it.

I think that's all. I'm just cranky today. There is a lot of good in my life, I'm just cranky today. Today is what is commonly referred to as "not a good day." But that can change, and probably will. Maybe I'll go sign up for the Avon Walk and make myself feel better.

My god, I'm so nervous, I feel like I'm going to throw up.

It's silly, I know. It's just an audition and the worst case scenario is that I'm not cast. That has bears no reflection on my abilities as an actor. I know I'm good. I've got a list of dozens of directors and fellow actors who will attest to that as well. I know I can bring it when it is time to bring it. It may just be a matter of availability or they don't want a bald chick or any one of a million things. There simply may be somebody better suited for this job than me. Doesn't mean I suck. It just means I get to continue my life in Chicago. Which is not a terrible thing. I love Chicago, I really do. If I do have to move to Amsterdam, I will be very sad to leave Chicago. So it is not the end of the world if I am not cast. I'll just go in there and do the best I can do and let the auditioners decide my fate. It's all I can do.

Wish me luck. And here's hoping I don't actually vomit. That would be bad.

Oh! One other thing -- if you Google me, you'll find a couple of sites that claim they have nude photos of me and wallpapers and so on and so forth. They don't. I've checked. My name is just in a database of actresses or something and they claim they have nude photos of everyone. But they have none of me. I was born with clothes on.

Yeah, I'm chuckling, too.

So I Googled my own name a little while back and I found a reference to myself in the blog of an old college classmate. What? Don't even try to pretent you haven't Googled your own name. We all do it. We all want to see how many hits we get. And frankly, I get a lot. For someone who was completely computer illiterate for so long to have that many hits on the internet...no, the irony is not wasted on me. But anyway, I went back and read this old college classmate's blog wherein he had apparently Googled me (he was going through a list of old friends, trying to see what people were up to -- don't mock. You've done it, too. I know you have) and found this blog and wrote a little something about it. He said he remembered me as being fearless. Which is funny because in college, I was afraid of everything. At least I was going in to college. I got a little better as time went on and I learned that if I didn't speak up for myself or challenge myself or go for the things I wanted, I'd get nowhere because nobody else was going to do it for me. I dunno. I just like to think about his blog entry from time to time when I feel like I need an extra little push.

Like today. Today is audition day. I have to go in there and completely rock their worlds. No self-consciousness. No second-guessing myself. It's improv -- whatever comes to mind, I have to go with it, stick it, and sell the shit out of it. I have to remember to play "yes, and" and to be characters. I have to be positive and upbeat and most of all, I have to just have fun. Whatever happens with this audition, I have to go in there and give it my best. Because this is something I want and nobody is going to just hand it to me. If I give it my everything and they cast someone else, at least it's not my fault, you know?

Wish me luck!

I love the way my hair feels when it is wet.

Where's global warming when you need it? Honestly, this isn't fair. We have a totally mild summer and now an absolutely frigid winter? I thought we were going to get hot, not go into another ice age. If ice age is where we are heading, screw that. I'll off myself. I hate being cold. Hate it. Granted, I probably could dress warmer. But when I'm sitting in my office wearing a shirt and two sweaters, a skirt, pantyhose and socks, with my heat cranked up as high as it will go and still I'm still cold...that's getting ridiculous.

I am so ready for summer.

I'm tired. My eyes are sore and dry from crying for three days. But for the most part, I feel good. I feel like things are changing, mostly for the better. I think the ailing relationships in my life are mending. The strained ones are fading away, leaving room for more productive, and healthy things. Not that those relationships are bad or over or anything like that; they're just being reexamined. And I don't think I'm the only one going through this stuff -- it seems like 2005 is the year of getting healthy for a lot of people. I'm proud of all of my friends who are getting healthy. I'm proud of me for doing it, too.

Good bye, Grandma. I love you.

Moby is shooting a music video on Thursday. Which makes me SO HAPPY I CAN'T EVEN TELL YOU. Because first of all, it means that the single will be released soon. And secondly, because it means there will be more yummy Moby footage out there to watch. And third, it could be taken to imply that a DVD will be released for this album at some point and as we all know, I loved the "Play" and "18" DVDs. Funny stuff, that. The only sad thing is that I will not be in New York on Thursday, so I can't participate in the shoot. If I was in New York, I would take the day off to do it, but I am not, so I can't. Oh well. Some other day.

But yay! More happy yummy Moby goodness on the horizon!

I'm such a dork.

Happy birthday to my Virginia friend, with whom I have been exchanging music for, what, close to a year now, I would think. It has been wonderful getting to know you and I look forward to hearing more of your tunes in the future.

Happy, happy!

I'm watching the film version of Angels in America that they did for HBO last year. It is so weird. I was in this play in college and it was a big deal. It was probably the most controversial play they had done up to that point at my college and it was a big deal. It was a "happening." Everybody was abuzz about it. It was a big deal. And I got to be a part of it. I was part of somthing that rocked the community and made people think. I knew every word of the play, I knew everyone's speech patterns, I knew every sound cue and every light cue. I loved that play. I loved being in that play. I loved going to the theater every night and doing that play. I loved it. And now I'm watching other people say the lines I said. Acting out the scenes my friends worked so hard on. I know every line as it is being said, even after all of these years. I still know every line. I don't even have to pay attention; I know what's coming next. It's so bizarre. It's like my life on the screen, but it's not my life.

It's my favorite scene now. I was thinking the other day about how I would have shot this as a film. They're doing it right, but the acting is a bit off in one particular case.

It's so weird. So weird. I know it doesn't make sense. Just trust me. It's weird.

Okay, I promise that not every blog entry from here on out will be about my hair or lack thereof, but I have to post this one.

I went to do karoke last night because one of my friends was hoping to win the $500 prize. Seeing as it is a contest judged on applause and there were only the two of us there rooting for each other, we didn't really stand a chance, but it was cool. Actually, no, it wasn't. It was a crappy bar full of the kind of people I try to avoid. I hate sounding elitist or prissy or bitchy, but I don't like frat bars. And what's worse than frat bars are the bars where the frat boys hang out after they have graduated from college. If you don't know the kind of bar I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky. It's just not fun to hang out in a place where everyone looks the same and acts the same and thinks the same. Gimmie a little variety, please. Granted, there was one guy there who is in a rock band who looked a little cooler, but the rampant stupidity in the place kind of outshone even him. Anyway. After the first round, both my friend and I were eliminated from the competition, which was fine with me. Meant we could go home. But I had put in a request to sing two songs and they needed a couple of people to fill some time, so I went up to the DJ to ask if I could sing my second song just for shits and grins. He was talking to someone else at the time and while I waited for him, this other random woman who was up there turned and started talking to me. I talked back a little. Just enough to be courteous. And then she pulls out the, "And just for the record, I think you're really beautiful with your hair that short." Just for the record? Where did that come from? And what record? Have your friends been sitting over there all night ripping on the bald girl? Do I look like I'm terribly concerned with that? She went on to say that she'd do it if she had the guts. I had to pull out my, "Yeah, I did it for the play I'm currently in" line. I had to do it. I had to play the, "Hey, check me out. I'm an actual actor and an actual musician, not a karoke wannabe." It was low. It was petty. But she was so fucking condescending. Maybe she thought I was a cancer patient, or a holocaust survivor, or whatever, but what the hell kind of a thing is that to say, even to a cancer patient? I know she meant it as a compliment, but it was so condescending and pitiful. Had I been through chemo, the last thing I would want to hear from some girl with the perfect hair and sixteen tons of lipstick, but liner that has smudged off on one side of her mouth, is that she thinks I'm beautiful, no matter what her friends say. You know what? I think I'm beautiful. No matter what anyone else says, I think I look good. No, I will probably not keep this hair style forever. But I can more than pull it off. I can own this hair style. I don't need permission to do so from a sorority chick.

I'm sorry. I know this was a really ugly post, and very harsh on my part. Not really in line with my "I'm going to try to be a nicer person" thing. Sorry about that. But now that it is out of my system, I can go back to being a nicer person. Cookie, anyone?

So the resounding opinion is that I look good with no hair. Apparently, I have a nicely shaped head. I like it. Though my mental image of myself still includes hair, which is kind of weird. It takes me a second when I look in a mirror to remember that, oh yeah, I don't have hair. But I really do like it. It feels good. It looks good. And I actually do feel more feminine, believe it or not. I dunno. I'm going to stop rambling about it. But suffice it to say, I look good with blonde hair, red hair, brown hair, black hair, and no hair. There is nothing I can't pull off.

Except tooting my own horn. That's just distasteful.

Tee hee.

So, I have joined the ranks of the hairless. And I have to say, I think it's sexy.

Can a person make a conscious decision to die? Assuming said person is in really bad shape and said person's body is just about ready to give out anyway?

More word from my grandmother's neck of the woods -- she's ready to go. Her kids are having a hard time seeing her like this. For a family that will do anything to keep their loved ones going for one more day to admit that watching someone die of a heart attack is easier and better than watching them wither away like my grandmother is...it has to be really awful. Really awful. She says she's ready to go. The doctors say everything will probably just shut down, except for her heart because she has a pacemaker, and she'll just kind of go into a coma. So my question is, could my grandmother just decide to go? She is ready to go. Her quality of life right now is dreadful, she misses her husband, she's just barely hanging on as it is. Could she just decide, "Today is the day" and stop living? Stop holding on? Can one person have that kind of control over his or her own involuntary body functions?

I don't want to lose my grandmother. Nobody wants to see a loved one die. But she doesn't want to be alive anymore and I have to respect that. I think we all have to.

I love you, Grandma, whatever your choice is, however you want to handle this. I love you.

I cleaned the hell out of my bathroom today. Note the usage of the word "hell," as opposed to "shit" or "fuck," neither of which sounds appropriate when used in reference to cleaning a bathroom. But anyway, I cleaned the hell out of it and even though my house now smells strongly of bleach, I feel very good about it. We're talking cleaning away mold and mildew and getting a new shower curtain and washing the walls and everything. I cleaned my living room a bit, too, and I feel good. I always have to be in the right mindset to really clean and I always feel better afterwards. Like I'm not only cleaning my house, but I'm cleaning my life, too. I'm getting healthy and it feels great.

It's just hair. It will grow back. My grows particularly fast and particularly well. So why am I so freaked out about shaving it all off?

I know at least one of you out there reading this is saying, "If you're so worried about it, don't do it." Thank you. I know that is an option. I don't have to shave my head for this show. The director and writer are not opposed to me keeping my hair, though they would both like it if I got rid of it. The writer, especially. I know I could always go to them and say, "Look, guys, I'm more marketable with hair, so let's just put me in a turban, yes?" and they'd probably be agreeable to that. I know this. But you all should know by now that I am not the sort to back away from things that scare me. I seek them out and conquer them to prove that I'm alive. To prove that I'm strong. To prove that there is nothing I can't do. A life lived in fear is a life half-lived, right? Right. So just because this scares me doesn't mean I'm not going to do it. You learn nothing if you don't make mistakes or take chances.

Disclaimer aside, why am I so freaked out about shaving my head? I've been thinking about this a lot and have come up with several reasons. And I'm going to talk about them because my other choice is to tackle the enormous pile of stuff that needs to be filed that is sitting on the table in my office and that's just not fun. I can file later.

First of all, I have really gorgeous hair. It is a beautiful color and a beautiful texture. I have a lot of hair and it's really soft. It seems a shame to get rid of it. I looked into donating it to one of those organizations that makes wigs for cancer patients and whatnot and I don't think it is long enough to donate, which makes me a little sad because it really is beautiful. I think I have one gray hair in the front, too, and even that is beautiful. When the women in my family go gray, they go silver. Imagine my hair, with it's beautiful texture, in a shimmery silver color. I am going to be one foxy grandma, lemme tell you. So I have this really beautiful hair and it makes me sad to part with it. I know it will grow back. But my whole life, I have loved my hair. When I thought I was the ugliest thing on the planet, I took comfort in the fact that I have beautiful hair and pretty hands. So what is going to happen to my self-image when I no longer have one of the things I find most beautiful about my appearance?

Secondly, what if I just look funny with no hair? I think it would probably look better if I was waifish, and maybe this will inspire me to become waifish, but right now, I am not waifish. I can't even pass for a chemo patient. What if I just look silly? Some people can pull off bald and some can't. Same is true for men and women. Granted, I do have several friends who think I'll be able to pull it off. My lawyer friend said I can do it because I have striking eyes. It made me happy that that was her instant reaction, so I thank her for that. But for every friend I have who thinks it will be sexy, there is another who gives me those sad puppy dog eyes, like I'll be mutilating my appearance beyond the point of recognizability or salvagability. Who is right? We won't know until I do it.

And thirdly, there is the femininity aspect of it. I've heard of some women who just in cutting their hair short felt significantly less feminine than they did with longer hair. I don't know if it is because of the short cuts I have had, but I have to admit that I have felt that in the past. But as I'm reading this book right now, it is making it abundantly clear to me that hair has nothing to do with femininity or what makes me a woman. I will still have my breasts. I will still have my reproductive organs. I will still have my personality. I will still have my artistic abilities. I will still have my hands. I will still have my curves. The chapter I read on the train this morning was about breasts and it just kept reiterating how much humans are attracted to curviness and it made me really happy that I have breasts and hips that make me curvy. I have a nice figure and that's not going away with my haircut. I guess it's possible that having no hair might inspire me to dress more girly and I'll rediscover my femininity that way. And continuing to read this book and exploring my female roots from an internal/spiritual perspective will help. Nevertheless, I asked a couple of my guy friends yesterday if they will still love me if I have no hair. Both responded that yes, they will. Thanks, guys. Though you'd be pretty crappy friends if you said no.

On a side note, I think I may have to change a nickname. I think fucknut may have to become sparky or spike because he's really cleaning up his act. For real. After years and years and years of talking about it, he's finally taking action and I am so proud of him for that. He'll call me for no real reason now, or to prevent himself from having a cigarette (he's trying to quit). I'm so glad that he's decided to take care of himself, and I'm thrilled that he knows he can turn to me for help if he needs it. So yeah, fucknut may no longer be the best name for him. I kinda like spike. But he is one of the ones who has promised he'll still be my friend when I'm bald. And for the first time in a long time, I believe him.

But anyway, back to the hair. If you look back a little ways, you'll see that I am very attached to it. If it's not right, I don't feel right. Yes, I can always wear a wig. Probably my orange one. And yes, my hair will grow back. And yes, I have sworn off dating all together and maybe this will help me stick to that. That's a whole other blog, though, so don't worry about that one right now. And who knows? I could love being bald so much that I decide not to grow my hair back out. It is a big middle finger to the societal perceptions of what is beautiful. Spike has said that he'll photograph me once it is shaved and I'm hoping to get at least one, nice, artistic, beautiful, simple picture out of it so I have some visual image of myself as an object of beauty, even when I have been stripped of the things I have used to define myself as beautiful for years. It's like when I was a model for a figure drawing class (clothed, thank you). It did me a lot of good to see my body transformed into art. Something beautiful, despite it's flaws. Or perhaps because of them.

Part of me is really excited. Part of me thinks it will add a delicacy and vulnerability to my appearance and personae. Part of me thinks it will make me invincible. Part of me is looking forward to shedding the shackles of my hair and freeing whatever lies beneath this societally imposed appearance of mine. And part of me is terrified of losing what is familiar. But if we only hold onto things that are familiar, we miss out on a lot of new, exciting experiences and learning opportunities.

It is only hair. It will grow back.

The Chicago subway is significantly quieter than the New York subway. I'm not talking about the trains themselves, but the people on them. In New York, it seems like everyone is traveling in groups and they all talk to each other -- on the platform, in the tunnels, on the trains. In Chicago, everyone seems to be traveling individually so nobody talks to anyone else. In the Washington Street tunnel between the red and blue line trains, the only sound to be hear is the sound of footfalls and the occasional russle of a plastic bag. On the platform, when friends meet accidentally and greet one another, it is in hushed tones. It is rare to find people talking at full volume on the trains, or if they are, they're talking on a cell phone and all of the other passengers secretly hate them for having friends.

I was reading more of that book my mom gave me on the train this morning, about female anatomy. I think that will be my goal for this year -- to embrace my feminity and all of the wonderful and terrible things that come with it. It's about time I did that.

I think the key to writing anything is to just do it. The things to keep in mind are that if you censor yourself, it will suck. If you try to be funny, you won't be. You will have to write about 37 things before you'll write one that you like, but you have to write those 37 crappy ones first before the good one will come out. I think if you can remember those things and not get frustrated by them, you'll be fine.

I say this mostly to myself because if I am called back for Boom Chicago, they will want a writing sample. Just a short scene between two people. So I've kind of made a deal with myself that I have to write a scene a day between now and then so I have a bunch to choose from and maybe one of them will actually be funny. Those of you in my close geographical proximity may be called upon to judge some of these scenes and let me know which ones are funny to people other than me and which ones are just plain crap. But I have to remember: don't censor myself. Don't limit myself. Don't try to be funny. Don't worry if I write crap. Something good will come of it.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Well duh.

Three days into the new year and I'm already bored stupid at work. I really should clean up my office. I really should clean up my house. I really should just go shave my head and get it over with. Get a fresh, clean start to the new year, you know? I'm actually really excited to be losing all of my hair. I think it will be liberating. You know how I'm always going on and on about how bald men are sexy because they are giving a big middle finger to society and what society thinks they should look like. Well, I'll get to be that person. But moreso, because I think the pressure on a woman to have beautiful hair is greater than it is on a man. I will get to walk around confidently with nothing to hide behind. No hair, no excess fat, no nothing. Just me out in the world. I'm kind of looking forward to it.

Sorry, that was really rambly. I'm in kind of a weird mood because I watched the documentary on John Kerry last night and I'm really wishing the election had gone differently. And I'm really wishing I had come into work with something more to do than clean the spam out of my inbox. And I'm really wishing my office was somewhere else because new people have started moving into offices vacated by my former co-workers who are now gone because of the reorganization going on here. Meaning keep your fingers crossed for me that I just so happen to be exactly what Boom Chicago is looking for. It's time for me to get out of here.

I deleted your emails today. Time to get healthy.

Warning: My dork flag is flying pretty high as I post this.

Probably the second best Christmas gift I got this year was a tea kettle. It whistles like a harmonica. And it means I can have tea anytime I want it. Anytime. I can have a cup of chamomile tea before bed. I can have green tea on a Saturday morning for breakfast. I can have tea anytime I want and it makes me so happy I can't even tell you. So thank you to my actual brother for the wonderful, wonderful tea kettle. I love it.

I just signed up to audition for Boom Chicago. I will not be cast. They are only casting one person at this point in time. But the audition sounds like a LOT of fun. So worst case scenario, I'll go and have a blast. Maybe they'll like the bald chick. Either way, keep your fingers crossed for me. How awesome would it be to go live in Amsterdam?

Happy New Year, kids.

So I've been thinking about people and relationships and stuff. I know a lot of people, myself included, who think that they are so messed up in one way or another that nobody will ever love them, or that if they let someone get close enough to really know them, that other person will run screaming in fear. But if you actually talk to those people and find out exactly what it is that they think is so horrific as to label them unlovable, you find that every single thing on that list is either 1) something that can very easily be handled, or 2) something that is on the same list as thirty thousand other people. Honestly. My friends have the same issues that I do. They have the same problems as each other. They have the same problems as the people they want to hook up with. So why is hooking up so difficult? Is it because we don't forgive these things in ourselves, so we can't forgive them in others? Or are we so afraid that someone else might find out what's wrong with us that as soon as the issue is broached (when the other person admits his/her fault) that we freak out and run away? I don't know that I'm making any sense, but this is one thing I've been thinking about recently. The things I am so afraid of people finding out about me are thing that are completely forgivable or understandable. Depression. Bad skin. A penchant for crossword puzzles. Maybe we all just need to walk outside and say, "Hey. My name is Kitty (or whatever your name happens to be). I've battled depression before, which makes me kind of moody," and then we can all get on with our lives and our hooking ups and all that rot. I dunno. Just a thought. And of course, much much much easier said than done.

Hey, kids.

Please promise me that whatever your plans are for the evening, that you will be safe. A safe new year is a happy new year. Or something like that.

I'll reminisce about the past year more later, but for now I'm just going to say that I very much enjoy being in New York, I like the people here, and I am, by choice, 800 miles away from at least some of the people I would most like to spend New Year's Eve with. Don't get me wrong -- I'm with a whole bunch of people I love hanging out with and I'm glad I'm here for New Year's Eve. But I can think of at least one person, 800 miles away who I really wish was here. Oh well.

Have a safe and happy new year!

No matter where you are, no matter what you are doing, there is always a lot more to the world around you than what you see immediately in front of your face.

And the little counter on my blog thingy will still say I have 1,157 entries.

So I'm reading this book about female anatomy and it is completely...entertaining. It's not overly clinical or overly glibb. It's really well written and entertaining. But it is, of course, making me think about my own female body. I wrote a really cheesy song yesterday that includes some bits about my body. I'm growing to love it more and more, but I still have a long way to go. I think the first step in it might be retiring my green corduroy pants. Not because I don't love them anymore -- I do, very much. But because they have so many holes in them it is rather indecent to wear them in public anymore. And as much as I would like to be able to replace them, I'd kind of like to replace them with pants that fit and make me look like a girl. Like the ones I'm wearing today. They are still big on me, thanks to the recent weight loss, but more flattering. More shapely. More...girlish.

I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm working really hard on not resenting being a girl anymore. I don't think that's a good way to go through life. And I'm actually starting to see a little progress in that arena, too. Possibly nothing permanent, but it's a start.

And now I'm off to have lunch at Moby's restaurant with my lawyer friend. Yay!

I love New York. Once again, when I got here, I got this feeling like I was home. It just feels good to be here.

I went to an open mic tonight with my lovely hostess. There were some mic problems because I forgot to bring my pick up, so I did a kind of crappy version of "Allowed." But then, since we each got to do two songs, I played my little acapella pseudo-soul tune and it went over like gangbusters. People really liked it. Including this cute bald guy whose music I really enjoyed. As I was leaving, I went to tell him that I loved his songs, but he beat me to the punch, saying he really enjoyed my second song. I'm glad it was dark or I would have been blushing.

So yeah, I love New York.

But I keep forgetting to tell you about my "I'm a dumbass" moment that I had earlier this week. I've lived in my apartment for four and a half years. For that whole time, the window above my back door has been open. I have tried repeatedly to close it, usually when the infamous Chicago winter sets in. It has never closed for me. I always thought it was because they painted it open -- it's one of those windows that has a long bar on the one side that you push up to close the window, or pull down to open it. I thought it had been painted over so many times in the open position that it was just permanently painted open. Until this past week. I tried once again to push up on the bar to no avail. Until I pinched together these two little metal tabbies, at which point, the window shut as easily as a knife goes through Jell-o. So yeah, I'm a dumbass, but maybe my apartment will stay a little warmer this winter.

Merry Christmas.

By which, I do not mean to offend anyone who does not celebrate Christmas. I mean simply to share a piece of my life with all of you. Whatever holiday you choose to celebrate, I hope it is a happy one for you. I celebrate Christmas, so I am going to wish all of you a merry Christmas.

It was a long day and a half for me. A lot happened, but I don't really want to get into all of it right now. I have to finish my laundry and clean up my house and get ready to go to New York tomorrow, but The Sound of Music is on television right now, so the temptation to just sit and watch it is almost overwhelming. I have about a quarter of a cheesecake to eat, too, so it doesn't sit and rot in my fridge while I'm gone. But probably the most exciting bit is that one of my debts is paid off. I can't tell you the weight lifted from my shoulders. It hasn't fully sunken in yet, and probably won't until I get my next paycheck and have that much more of it to do with as I please, but it still feels pretty darn good.

So I hope you all had a lovely Christmas, whether you celebrate it or not. I gotta go put stuff in the dryer. Merry Christmas.

Two main points to make today, though neither one is of any specific interest.

1) I make DAMN good cookies. Yes, I follow other people's recipes, but they turn out so well. I like baking.

2) I had kind of forgotten how much I love and admire and respect Tim Curry until I saw a picture of him in the Reader last night. He is not, in any way, an attractive looking man. Sorry, hon, but you're not. But this picture was smoking. So sexy. And to know what kind of talent lies beneath...I'm kind of bummed that I have rehearsal the same night that I am going to see him in Spamalot because it means I won't be able to camp outside the theater afterwards and try to meet him. I'd just like to shake his hand and tell him I think he was wonderful in Clue and Kinsey. No, I would not mention Rocky Horror to him because I know he is sick of that. But I'd like to shake his hand and tell him that he is amazing nonetheless. Go pick up a copy of the December 17th Reader (if you can still find one) and take a look at the picture. It's electric.

That's it. I told you it wasn't anything exciting. I'm gearing up for Christmas and my trip to New York. I burned myself four CDs full of music that I am enjoying right now so I can hate all of it by the time I get back. I baked a lot last night and have one more batch of cookies to go. I'm getting nervous about shaving my head and almost think I should just do it now and get it over with. Why is it that people keep saying, "I hope it grows back the same way?" Why wouldn't it? I'm not getting gene therapy; I'm getting a haircut. Anyway. And is there a certain length that hair has to be in order to donate it to the place that makes wigs for cancer patients? Because I do have really beautiful hair...

I'm just rambling now. Happy Thursday, everyone. Be good to each other.

So I'm in full-on panic mode today, about Christmas and about my trip to New York.

What if I didn't get enough presents for people?
What if someone got me a present and I didn't get them one?
What if I don't bring enough warm clothing with me and I spend a week freezing my ass off?
What if I forget to bring something?

I know that these are all, in their own way, minor problems. The gifts that I have for my family are things that I believe they will enjoy and things that I want them to have. If someone got me something and I didn't get them anything...it's not really that big of a deal. It's happened before. And I've given gifts to people with nothing to give me, so it's really not a "thing." Most of the people I know are broke anyway, so we go out and spend time together instead and call it a day. And if I find myself freezing my ass off the whole time I'm in New York...well, I'm pretty sure they have stores there where I could buy another sweater, if need be. And if I forget to bring something...once again, they have stores in New York. I'll get by. I guess I'm most concerned about forgetting to bring enough music or food with me for the drive. But I'll be okay, even if I do forget those things. One thing I have learned from my life is that I will always be okay. I will always get by.

Doesn't mean I won't panic from time to time. I have a lot of baking to do between now and Friday...

In less than a week, I'll be in New York.

One week from tomorrow, I have a lunch date with a friend of mine at Teany.

In just over two weeks, a whole new year will begin.

I'm enjoying watching the sun come up in the morning, although I'm not enjoying waking up in the dark.

I'm enjoying watching the sun set as I drive home.

I've noticed that I have become a very bitter person with a tendency to snap at people and I don't like that. As much as I don't like New Year's resolutions, I think my resolution this year will to be a nicer person. A calmer person. The sort who just kind of lets things bounce off. The sort who doesn't lose her temper because nothing causes her temper to rise. The sort who deals with stress much better.

I'm glad that I have a couple weeks off of Floss! because it means I can paint my nails.

I'm excited to get my new shoes. I hope they get here before I leave for New York.

Fucknut is still alive and doing well. And I should be getting my tattoo designs soon.

My fingers hurt and are all caloused and ugly from playing the guitar so much, but I love to play.

It's only hair. It grows back.

Within the year 2005, I will eliminate one of my debts.

Things are looking up for me. I guess sometimes it takes a little breakdown to be able to see that. Let all of the negative out so there is room for more positive. And I am surrounded by positive.

I can't wait to go to New York next week.

Okay, see that little link over on the side that says "wonderful online vegan store?" Yeah. Go click on that. Buy stuff from them. Even if you're not vegan, buy stuff from them. They are truly a wonderful business. I love the people who work there.

I told you I ordered some shoes from them a while back that were on backorder. Well, it seems that they have finally come in. But since the time I ordered the shoes and now, the credit card I had put them on expired. So I got a very friendly little e-mail asking me to please call them, and it was signed by an actual person. So I called and got to speak to an actual person who was probably the most pleasant person I've ever gotten to deal with in any customer service department anywhere. She was courteous and sweet and knew what she was doing and within minutes, my card was updated, the order processed, and theoretically, my shoes will be sent to me today. Meaning it is entirely possible I will have them in time for my New York trip.

I had a dream last night about my shoes. I was so happy walking around in them.

So hooray for the wonderful online vegan store. I will continue to send them business for years to come, just because I think they know how to actually run a business. I think we should all support places like that.

And I know it's distasteful to boast, but I now have four songs in the top 25 acoustic numbers on 15 Megs of Fame. And "Allowed" moved up 10 places to #55 in the top 100 songs on the whole site.

That site is simultaneously going to be amazing for and completely detrimental to my ego.

I feel like I should talk about the Christmas season and how much it irritates me, but instead, I think I'll talk about the super uber freezing cold weather we're having and how much that irritates me. There is very little that I like less than I like being cold. Being cold sucks. Walking outside and losing your breath because the arctic air steals it from you is not pleasant. I'm ready for summer.

I think that once one comes to terms with the fact that that's how things are, one is much happier than one was when one wanted to fight that fact. They key is the actual "coming to terms" part. It's a lot harder than it sounds.

I used to be really resentful of the fact that I am smart because it made me different from everyone else. In a way, I think that's why I went to college where I did and why I studied what I did. IQ wasn't really a factor hanging out with the theater people. We were all on the same page. We were all artists and everyone's opinion was equally valid. Didn't matter that I graduated from high school with honors and some of them just barely eeked through. I got to be "normal" for a little while.

That has kind of carried over into my current life. I don't walk around with a degree pinned to my shoulder, letting everyone know how many A's I've gotten in my life. I don't spout wisdom, hoping people will take note and look up to me as a great intellect. Okay, well, this blog is excluded from that statement. I'd like to think I'm rather unassuming. It's always fun to tell someone who only knows me in a creative capacity that I am a paralegal during the day. I know they were expecting me to say waitress or something. They never know how to take that.

But part of me thinks it is time to stop being resentful of the fact that I am smart. My brain gets me into and out of a lot of really interesting situations. If I'm handed something unfamiliar, I can figure it out fairly quickly and move it along to the next person who needs to touch it. That's a skill. I'm a smart cookie and I should embrace that. Also because I'm getting tired of feeling dumb when I'm surrounded by people talking about malpractice or insurance or whatnot. The only reason I don't know about those things is because nobody ever taught me. I'm sure if I had a crash course in it, I'd be just as good at it as anyone else. Because I am a smart cookie. That's a good thing.

Oh.

My.

God.

I love this new play I'm in!

First of all, I want to apologize for the distasteful ranting nature of this post. There might be a couple of you out there reading this who really wanted to be in the show, too, but were not cast and for that, I apologize. But I am so so so so so so so so so glad I freed up my schedule so that I could do this show. SO glad. And I'm so perfectly cast, too. I can't wait to jump into this character. To live her. Breathe her. Justify her every thought, her every movement. She's great. The rest of the cast is wonderful, too. We had a really great energy at the read through last night, so I'm really looking forward to working with all of those people. And I'm really looking forward to working with this director. I think this one might actually push me.

This is also going to sound distasteful, but I'm going to talk about it for a minute anyway. I don't know how many of you have ever rehearsed a play before, but usually when you get there, the first few rehearsals deal with blocking (where you enter from, when you move and to where, etc.) and then you start just running scenes. The director might stop you in the middle and ask you to do something else, or he/she may save all comments until the end and give them all to everyone in one fell swoop. One swell poop. The majority of the directors I have worked with don't have notes for me at the end of the night. Nothing positive, nothing negative. Most directors will tell you that they don't dole out praise -- if they don't say anything, it means you're doing a good job. And while I probably should take some comfort in the fact that not getting notes means that the director likes what I'm doing, it also means the director doesn't have any new suggestions for me. Doesn't want me to try anything else. Has no new ideas. Or, worst of all, isn't paying attention to what I'm doing. Granted, I'm often a character actor, meaning "not the focal point." But you would think that in at least one rehearsal, the director would watch the characters and make comments or suggestions. This very seldom happens for me. But I'm hoping (perhaps against hope, but maybe not) that this particular director will have comments and suggestions and criticisms and notes for me. It already sounds like he's going to meet perhaps one on one with each actor to do character stuff. Yay! A challenge! An opportunity to grow and play! An opportunity to play something other than a characture of an existing person! Yay!

So I'm really excited for this show. And all of you should come see it. For real. It's funny and entertaining and will only get better as we actually rehearse it. Opens in February, so keep an eye out.

And I worked for it. And I got it. And I couldn't be happier. YAYAYAYAYAY!!!

I know that the election is over and there is nothing we can do about the outcome, but I would still encourage all of you to see the documentary "Bush's Brain." It's kind of frightening.

Holy crap. I now have three songs in the top 20 acoustic songs on 15 Megs of Fame (the "rate me!" link), and one in the top 100 songs on the site. The top 100 includes all genres. "Allowed" is number 65. Not too shabby. It's also #9 in the top 25 acoustic songs. "Mona Lisa" and "The Simple Answer" are numbers 16 and 19, I think. Holy crap.

You know what I was saying the other day about working for everything I have achieved? I was talking to my mom about that the other day and we're kind of curious to see just how far you can take something like that. I'm gonna go for it. I'm going to see how far I can push this music thing. It may take a while, but if I keep at it, who knows what can happen, right? Holy crap. I have three songs in the top 20. I kind of feel like I need to say thank you to my friend who told me to record "Allowed" in the first place, for waking me up to the fact that people like to listen to my music. Thank you. If it wasn't for that conversation, I'd probably just still be playing for my cat in my living room and nothing else. So thank you.

You know, about ninety five percent of the things I have gotten in my life, or the things that have happened to me, I have worked my ass off to achieve. Everything from graduating with the kind of grades I had to every role I have gotten to scoring gigs at random places. I work really hard to make good things happen in my life. And it is exhausting. Honestly. In "Mona Lisa," I ask, "Am I wasting time being persistent?" I think it's a valid question. To work so hard for little baby steps...it's hard. Really hard. But every once in a while, for something that I really want, I stick a hand out and reach for it and it gets a little closer. And I'm reminded that all of it is worth something. If I didn't work so hard, if I didn't try, I'd never achieve any of the things that are so important to me. I'm not sure where I get the strength or confidence to try, but I'm glad I have it. Because it's not worth having if it's not worth fighting for.

All I really want for Christmas is to go to New York and have fun with my friends. I'm guessing I may have to go to Minnesota to say goodbye to my Grandmother. She's not doing well. She hasn't been doing well for years, but even she says she doesn't think she'll make it to Christmas. She is 92 or 93 years old and her body is just giving out. It's had a good run and she says she's tired, so I guess when she's ready to go, it's okay that she goes. Doesn't mean it won't make me sad.

I wish I knew her better. Part of it is because she lived so far away, so I only got to see her about once a year as a child. And part of it is because that side of the family just doesn't talk about those things, you know? Conversation is kept at a surface level. I remember a couple of years ago, I told my Grandma that I was getting into swing dancing and she said she used to do that when she was younger, too. How I would have loved to hear those stories! But in such a group setting, the conversation was quickly turned to someone else's current career move or something like that. I just got these little glimmers of what my Grandma must have been like as a young woman and of who she really was. It's sad that most of that didn't get out until much later in her life. Speak up, people! Let the world know who you are! Don't wait until you're so old that all you can do is sit in a chair and watch birds all day.

I know you don't read this, Grandma, but I want you to know that I love you very much. The little pieces of you that I got to see over the years are very precious to me. You are a wonderful, beautiful, very loving woman and you will be horribly missed. Say hi to Grandpa for me and tell him I love him, too.

I love you, Grandma.

Over on 15 Megs of Fame (the "rate me!" link over on the left there), "Mona Lisa" is in the top 25 acoustic songs! Granted, it's #25, but it's in the top 25 acoustic songs on the site! Sweet!

Go over there and rate my songs more. Let's see if we can't get another one in there, or bump "Mona Lisa" up on the charts. Says Kitty, the Chart Whore.

Man, I'm flying after my show last night. I don't know why. It was a good show. The crowd was mostly my friends. But I just feel good about it. I feel like I played all songs that I wanted to play, not necessarily songs that other people would want me to play that I was just playing to humor them, you know? And yeah, I screwed up a bunch of times, but it was fine. There was much applause and laughter and mirth. And a ten dollar bill in the tip jar, that I have no idea who it came from. None of my friends, as near as I can tell. And the really weird part is that the venue paid me, too. I wasn't expecting that. When the guy booked me, he said they'd put out a tip jar and that was fine with me. But the woman working there last night called her boss to see what she should pay me. Granted, this was all news to the boss, too, so I felt a little weird taking it, but she insisted. I would have been happy to play either way. Honestly. Sure, it would be nice to get paid to make music, but I just want to play. I just want a venue in which to play. I love the feeling of holding a guitar. I love singing really loud. I love banging out the chords until it feels like the guitar is going to break. I love looking out at my audience and seeing them sing along or smile at their favorite part of a song or tap their feet. I just love to play. Getting paid for it is a bonus and it felt a little weird. But yeah, last night was a good night. And my little R&B-ish song...I love singing that one. I think it's a keeper.

So the general consensus seems to be that yes, I can sing an acapella R&B soul-ish song. And man, did it feel good to sing it in public. I wanna do it again.

And apparently, I have a theme song now...

Truth be told, I'm nervous about my show tonight. Maybe because it's a different venue. Maybe because I'm planning on doing a slightly more mellow set than I have in the past. Maybe because, theoretically, there will be people there who have not seen me play before. Maybe because I don't know how many people are coming and I hope there is space for everyone. Or, conversely, I hope I'm not playing to an empty room. I have not yet decided what I'm going to wear. I have not yet finished my set list. And the worst part is it's rainy and icky out today and I had forgotten what a pain in the ass bangs are when it's rainy and icky outside, so no matter what I wear, I'll probably look like crap.

On the up side, someone who just recently purchased a copy of my demo said it should have a warning label on it that says, "CAUTION: MORE ADDICTIVE THAN CRACK COCAINE AND TWICE AS FUN." That kind of made my day. And I have another online site up to host some of my songs and thus far, the response there has been pretty positive, too. I uploaded "Allowed" yesterday and it has already been downloaded 6 times. So it's going to be a bad hair day today, but hopefully a good music day. I just have to remember to relax and have fun. I like to play. That's the important part. If I'm having fun, other people will enjoy the show. Right?

So after about a week of not really eating, partially because I had nothing good in my house to eat and partially because I had no appetite, I did a lot of cooking last night and stocked my house with yummy vegan treats. Which I will tell you more about in a second, after I post this little disclaimer:

The not eating thing. No, I have not suddenly become anorexic. I have been drinking a lot of green tea (because I like it) and I think it has shrunken my stomach. I just can't eat as much as I used to. And, I'm actually listening to my body when it says, "You're full. You can stop eating now," as opposed to plowing through that to finish everything on my plate like I used to. So yeah, I am, in general, eating less. And then for the last week or so, nothing has sounded good. I haven't wanted to eat. Which is a little disturbing from my perspective because I'm always hungry and/or ready, willing, and able to eat. So to not want to eat anything...it's been weird. I don't think my body likes that very much because my stomach was making all kinds of weird noises last night that they could probably hear across the hall, so it's not something I plan on continuing. And even though nothing has sounded good, I have still been eating at least a little something a couple of times a day. I'm not stupid. I'm not starving myself. But I do think I've lost a little weight. Actually, I know I have because I'm wearing my Holland pants today and they're fitting a little looser than they normally do. The pants I wore yesterday were loose, too. But I just want you all to know that this is a temporary thing. I expect my appetite to come back in full force very soon and when it does, I will be completely at it's mercy. It's not an eating disorder. It's a lack of appetite. No real cause for alarm.

Anyway, so I cooked a lot yesterday. I made one of my world famous giant salads that will keep me in fresh veggies for the next week. I cooked a tofurkey, which, as we all know, is one of the greatest food products ever invented. I promised a slice to one of my cast mates and it will be a challenge for me to keep it for him until Wednesday. And I kind of went overboard with the veggies that I cooked with the tofurkey -- a parsnip, half a red pepper, a yellow squash, red onion, a couple of mushrooms, and some fresh ginger -- but they are so yummy. And to top it all off, I baked a vegan chocolate cake with blackberry filling. Because sometimes it's just nice to have cake in the house. So I'm all stocked up and ready to have a feast. Here's hoping I feel like eating some of it in the near future...

I love rediscovering movies that are awesome that I haven't watched in a million years. I'm watching "Reservior Dogs" right now. I love this film. You can say whatever the fuck you want about Quentin Tarantino, he made a quality film when he made this one. He could not have asked for a better cast. He could not have written a better script about this kind of a situation. He could not have asked for a better soundtrack. This film is brilliant and I don't care what you say. Fuck, just watch Steve Buscemi through the whole thing. Just watch Tim Roth. Just watch Harvey Keitel. This is some beautiful film making. And I haven't watched it in years. Shame on me.

Go back through your you movie colletion. Pull out the first film that you ever bought and watch it. You'll remember why you bought it and you will pat yourself on the back for buying it. It's like visitng an old friend. I love it that movies can do that.

I kind of feel like things are back to some sort of status quo. I'm back to my routines and I'm back to my single, isolated life. It sounds really sad when I say it out loud, but it's really not. I have a lot of wonderful things in my life. And my isolation is a conscious choice. If I try to explain it, I'll sound really sad and pathetic and psychologically screwed up and maybe it is, but it's okay and it keeps me content.

I'm looking forward to things. I'm feeling good about me and my physical appearance. I'm feeling good about my talents. I'm still kind of in denial that it is the holiday season, but that happens every year. And at least I'm not getting depressed. I'm still on the right path to where I need to go and I'll get there some day.

And I will bring unto you good news of great joy that will be to all people. And some that that will be only to me. And that news is:

Moby is releasing another album on March 22.

I am going to New York later this month.

These two things are bringing me so much joy right now that I don't care that I feel like crap or only got two hours of sleep last night. More yummy Moby goodness. Time to spend with wonderful friends who I haven't seen in a long time. What more could a girl want?

One of my other cast mates was asking me about my musical background the other night and thinking about it, it's kind of odd. I have formal training on piano, violin and clarinet and I only marginally remember how to play them. I remember how they work and how to play them and stuff, but if you were to put a violin in my hands, I wouldn't remember how to play a single song on it. It takes me quite a bit of futzing to improvise something on my clarinet (though I still sound better than Ferris Bueller). I have no formal training on the guitar, but I play it all the time. I love it. I love holding a guitar, I love playing random "chords," with no idea of what they are, searching for the sound I want. I have taken my guitar all over the world with me so I can always be playing it.

I just think it's funny that after four years of piano lessons, three years of violin lessons, and four years of playing the clarinet, the instrument that stuck is the guitar.