Got my new oven. Yay!

Got booked for a gig in Pennsylvania and have to put together lots of promo materials to send out that way. Yay!

Have gigs tonight and tomorrow. Yay!

Going to court tomorrow. Not yay.

I mean, it will be good in that justice will be served and whatnot, but I'm really nervous about going. I'm afraid of any sort of attacks they might try to make on my character. I am afraid I'll get flustered and say the wrong thing and look like an ass in front of the judge. I'm afraid the judge will tell me I'm asking for something I have no right to (even though, according to the Chicago Municipal Code, I do). I'm just scared. Equally afraid of winning and losing. If I win, how do I enforce the judgment, or will the court do that? If I lose, how much are the court costs going to be that I have to pay, and how stupid will I look? My boss, the lawyer, thinks I have a pretty solid, straight forward case, so that is comforting. And he's going to talk me through some stuff a little later today, so I can go in there tomorrow feeling a little more prepared. But what if they don't show and default judgment is entered against them; who enforces that? Why the fuck did I decide it would be a good idea to do this in the first place? I'm not a greedy person. I could have just walked away and let the whole thing slide. You know me; I don't like being obtrusive and this, to me, is a very obtrusive move. It is completely outside of my comfort zone and it scares the piss out of me.

Wish me luck tomorrow, kids. I'm going to need it.

And yes, I do feel very selfish asking for good energy when there are so many other people out there who need it so much more than I do. I'm doing my best for them, too, with the benefit concert tomorrow, which I'll be plugging at the show tonight. Forget I asked. Send your good energy to the hurricane victims who need it. And the people all over the world suffering and living in poverty and whatnot who really need a break. I'll get through this court thing. They really need your support. Please send it to them.

Okay, I feel a smidge better now.

I feel for people with nut allergies. I really do. I honestly think one of the most wonderful things in the world is nuts. Peanuts. Almonds. Cashews. Brazil nuts (or "nuts" as they call them in Brazil). Pistachios. Filberts. Walnuts. Maybe I'm just a little iron deficient as of late, but I've really been enjoying nuts and nut butters. For as much as cashew butter is a big nothing, almond butter is amazing. Quite possibly tastier than peanut butter. Would it be too weird to raise my children on almond butter and jelly sandwiches instead of p.b. and j? But seriously, people with nut allergies never get to experience the wonder that is almond butter. Or the joy of throwing some cashews into a stir-fry at the last second, so they're warm, but still crunchy. They will never get to know the joy that is pad thai!

My condolences to those of you out there with nut allergies. For lunch today, I will eat almond butter on your behalf.

I get a new oven tomorrow!

I think I told you, my oven was in pretty sad shape. The burners work fine, but the oven never gets hot when you turn it on. And the surface of the thing is cracked in two places and gets extraordinarily hot to the touch, even when the burners are not on. So I called a couple weeks ago to ask them to come take a look at it, and the guy didn't notice that there was a message in the maintenance voice mail box for about a week, but then he sent someone out the very next day to take a look at it (this was last week Thursday, maybe). And I just got a phone call saying that they are going to deliver a new oven/stove to my house tomorrow, and then they'll send out an installation guy. I'm getting a new oven tomorrow! Hooray! Just in time for tofurkey season! I can bake a cake! I can cook a frozen pizza! I can bake potatoes! I'm so excited, I can't even tell you. And how sad is it that I'm getting so excited about a new oven?

On the slightly more tough guy side, I sent my EPK to six coffee houses between here and New York to see if any of them want to book me for my little east coast tour. Damn, that was nerve wracking. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I hope at least one of them responds. I hope they don't look at my EPK and just start laughing. But if I don't send out these e-mails, I'll never get to play anywhere, right? And the more I send to, the better the chances are that I'll get booked. Wish me luck!

I get a new oven tomorrow!

Two of my very dear friends married each other this weekend. I don't get to see them as often as I would like to anymore, and in a lot of ways, I feel very removed from their lives. But they asked me to be a part of this day with them, and I am so honored that I was able to be there, and stand up while they proclaimed their love for one another. Thank you for letting me be a part of that.

The thing that I found most beautiful, though, was the absolute joy on the groom's face once the wedding was over. Not because the stress of the planning was behind him. Not because of the mountains of gifts yet to open. But because he now gets to be married to the woman he loves. He wants a marriage. To her. Specifically. And now he has it. And he was glowing brighter than I think I've ever seen anyone glow before. I know he'll take care of my friend. And I know she'll take care of him. That, to me, is more beautiful than the giant flower arrangements or the perfect cake. Though the wedding itself was gorgeous, too.

So congratulations to my friends. I love you and am so happy for you. Thank you for letting me be a part of your day. I wish you many more happy days to come.

So I'm playing a benefit concert for the victims and survivors of Hurricane Katrina. It'll be next Friday, September 9 at Java 101 in DeKalb, Illinois. I know a lot of you aren't anywhere near DeKalb, but if you can make it out, that would be great. I'm playing at about 1:00 pm, and they've got music lined up to go all day. They're hoping to raise at least $10,000 to send to those who really need it. Or, if you want to help out, but can't make it to the show, please visit RedCross.org and make a donation. Every little bit helps. My Texas friend is seeing a lot of the people who have been evacuated and she says it's like a third world country down there right now.

I feel good about this show. Like I'll be doing something to make a difference. If you can make it, please do, even if you show up later in the day and see someone else play. There are millions of people who lost their homes and jobs and essentially lives in a matter of hours this week, and they could use a hand.

Thanks.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Happy September.

My friends get married on Saturday. Another has a birthday tomorrow. I play two gigs this month, and have four performances of Bad Seed. Moby's birthday is in a couple of weeks, too. And by the time this month is over, my show will be ready to open. How crazy is that?

I got another gig rejection today. I'm kind of starting to wonder why I have an EPK.

My hair is cute and shaped and everything. I made my stylist's night. I was his last client and he just had a blast messing with my hair. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was going to go home and wash it out instantly. And in all truth, I didn't wash it out instantly; I bought shoes first. Cute little silver shoes to wear in the wedding on Saturday. These shoes are so NOT ME. Little open toed kind of strappy sandle things with clear heels, but they really are cute and they were only five dollars, and I'm starting to think maybe I could become a shoe whore. You know, one of those women who wears more than the same three pairs of shoes every day. I have always said that the shoes make the outfit. Am I going to become one of those women who goes out on dates wearing jeans and really uncomfortable looking but very sexy heels? Wait, that would require me dating. Nevermind.

I got a message from a sort of friend today, recommending an artist to me. He saw her play live, was blown away, and forwarded her info to me. I like her; her stuff is good, and she has a gorgeous voice that actually has something behind it. But I think what made me happiest about it was that this sort of friend of mine thought I might like this music, too. He thought of me. That makes me happy. God, I'm such a dork.

I think a lot of my dissatisfaction with my appearace lately comes from the fact that I don't see myself very much anymore. In my old apartment, my bedroom closet had mirrored doors, so I saw myself all of the time. Clothed, naked, whatever, I saw myself all of the time. Now, I only see myself for ten seconds a day when I check the mirror on my way out the door to make sure nothing is hanging out where it's not supposed to be, and truth be told, it was much better for my self image and acceptance thereof to see myself every day. I think I should invest in another mirror.

There was a very brief moment the other day wherein I thought I had found a way to contact that friend of mine from high school who has totally disappeared, but it was an old e-mail address that now just bounces. I have thought of taking the part in front of the @ and putting every bit I can think of that goes after an @ and just sending out a big, blanket e-mail to see if maybe he just switched providers.

Last night, driving home from work, I passed a gas station selling gas for $2.87/gallon. I stopped at that very same gas station not four hours later, after rehearsal, and the price was $2.99/gallon.

I know Katrina kind of messed up oil production in the south, so they're anticipating gas prices will go up a lot in the next couple of weeks. I think there are bigger things to worry about in relation to Katrina than the price of gasoline, like the fact that previously dry areas are now waist deep in water and millions of people are without power or food or a way to get out of there to a place that has food. And there are a lot of people for whom power and food are no longer an issue, and to the families of those who lost their lives, I am so sorry. My heart is with you.

But here's the thing: I thought this whole skirmish in Iraq was so that we could get cheaper oil. Isn't that why we went into Iraq instead of Afghanistan? Okay, not "instead of," but "in much greater numbers for a much longer period of time with much more fervor and bloodshed." And yet gas prices still rise. And our administration is just sitting there watching it all happen. They're watching the American public get screwed. They're watching thousands of American soldiers and Iraqi civilians die. And they don't seem to be doing a whole hell of a lot about it. So the one bullshit reason we had for going over there and devastating a country and killing thousands of people, the selfish, pseudo-light at the end of the tunnel, isn't working either?

I know, I know. I don't know the whole story. I don't dedicate every spare hour to reading the newspapers. But it seems to me, from what I have heard, that the Iraqis are not happy with the situation over there, we've gotten ourselves into a situation there is no good way to get out of, and more and more Americans are not happy with the situation over there. What the hell are we doing over there?

And then there is Cindy Sheenan. A woman who lost her son in Iraq, asking that very same question -- what the hell are we doing over there? What is this amazing mission that cost me my son? And President Bush won't talk to her. I heard a sound bite on the radio wherein he said, "I've talked to lots of parents of soldiers. She [meaning Cindy] isn't of the same opinion as they are." So it's okay to talk to parents who happily surrendered their children to your bogus cause that isn't working, but you won't sell your line of crap to a woman mourning her son because she doesn't understand? Hell, talk to her and make her understand. Explain it to her. Imagine the public opinion boost if you can turn Cindy Sheenan into a supporter of your cause. Or, at the very least, show some compassion towards a human being in pain. Why won't you talk to her?

And what ever happened with the whole Karl Rove exposing the CIA agent thing? Seriously, what happened there? It just got buried and then forgotten? What?

Sorry. I'm listening to politically charged music right now, and it's getting me fired up. I hate that I care about this shit. I hate that there is so much to get riled up about here. I hate that the cheapest gas in the Chicagoland area is three dollars per gallon. Yes, I am a spoiled American brat. Happy? Doesn't change the fact that the Guy in Charge is doing one hell of a lousy job. I hope history remembers him as the worst President in the history of the United States.

I'm stopping now. Again, I'm sorry.

Oh! And just so you know, I did notice, and I do thank you.

Thank you.

I pulled into the parking garage this morning, next to a totally pimped out black Cadillac with gold trim. The owner was still sitting in the car, listening to music at a volume that was probably disturbing the people performing surgery in the hospital across the street. He was an African American gentleman, wearing some sports jersey (I couldn't really see who) and a lot of gold rings on the one hand I could see. And the music he was listening to?

Genesis.

Yeah.

I broke down and got myself some new cords yesterday. Well, new to me. They cost seventy-five cents at the thrift store. They are grey and really soft and the pockets could be a little more flattering, but they are men's pants, so at the very least, I was happy to find cords without pleats in the front. I actually found two pairs -- the other is dark blue -- but I think I like the grey ones a little better. And boy, did it feel good to wear big pants again. Not that my curvalicious jeans aren't cute, it's just nice to wear pants that you don't have to worry about. Pants that you know nobody is checking you out in because they are SO not girly. I tried; really I did. I made it almost nine months without huge pants. I'm not saying they are going to replace my cute jeans entirely, it's just nice to once again have the option of total comfort, you know? Unselfconscious, unabashed comfort.

I also found this really tacky smiley face lamp at the thrift store that was only ninety cents, so I bought it. It's so cheesy and I love it. I think his name is Mr. George. Not just George, mind you, but Mister George. Mr. George the Smiley Face Lamp. Tee hee.

So there's this street light just outside my apartment window. It's on the other side of the street, but seeing as I'm up on the third floor, it is right at the same height as my living room window. And for the last couple of weeks, it has been blinking on and off about every minute. It's not flickering; it goes on at full blast for about a minute, and then off completely for a minute, then on again. It's really odd. I keep thinking that if it was a more scattered pattern, it would be the Universe sending me a message in Morse Code or something, but I can't make out discernable dots and dashes. As it is, I guess it just a power saver light. Or a movement sensitive light? Though I would think it an incredible waste of energy to go on and off a million times in an evening. Meh. What do I know? I'm not a street light.

I hope everyone in Katrina's path stays safe and relatively dry. Hang in there, kids. Storms don't last forever.

Another mindless day at the office, another day with no product in my hair. I feel like I'm getting boring. I feel like I should be reworking my rehearsal schedule, but that's the kind of thing I just can't (or don't want to try to) focus on at work. And to top it off, there is nobody here today except me and my boss and I think he's leaving momentarily. If he does, I'm going to take off soon, too. I could be doing much better things at home, like sleeping. And reworking my rehearsal schedule. Crap, I don't have any more black ink in my printer. I guess they'll all be getting blue schedules tomorrow. I guess that will help them know which ones are the most current...

I played my guitar in a movie theater lobby last night. I don't think (or at least I hope) I will ever play another venue so not acoustically suited to a guitar and vocalist in my life. It's like playing on an airplane, with that fake, pressurized air. My friend sitting three feet away could barely hear me sing, even though I was belting out as best I could. Oh, did I mention there was no PA system? Yeah. Had there been, it might not have been so bad. But it was rough. I was supposed to play for two hours, but after an hour and a half of disinterested patrons requesting Tyler Hilton songs, unable to hear me while I played the cover songs I do know, I told the guy who booked me that my voice was getting ready to go. Which it was. And my fingers hurt. And that really wasn't my crowd anyway. I played three of my own tunes and the rest cover songs that nobody wanted to hear anyway. That's not true; the magician who was there enjoyed my covers of "Wonderwall" and "Porcelain."

So I'm sorry to the guy who booked me for leaving early. I'm sorry to my friend for dragging him all the way out there to not-quite-hear me play. I thank the guy who booked me for the opportunity. In a really weird way, it was fun to just kind of wander around a movie theater playing my guitar. I think it could make for a really fun music video. Or social experiment. Just take my guitar out places and play randomly. Not for money (thereby hopefully negating the need for a street performer license), just to be out playing music and for the strange looks and sideways smiles people give a girl randomly playing her guitar in public places. And I thank my friend for going with me. I probably would have lost it and bailed a lot earlier if you weren't there, so thank you.

I feel bad for leaving a gig early. I feel bad for wanting to leave because I had no audience, or because the audience that was there was unresponsive. But the sound was dreadful, too, and I did give it a good effort -- an hour and a half is nothing to sneeze at. The Liz Phair show I saw on Wednesday night was an hour and a half long and she gets paid big bucks to do that. I paid out my nose to see that. But just so you know, I do feel bad about it. I'm not the kind of musician who sneezes at a gig because it is beneath her. I am starting to get a feel, though, for what are and aren't my gigs, and I'm okay with not playing gigs that aren't mine. I'm sure if I put in the time and effort to learn all of the pop songs on the radio now, I'd get booked in more bars and the girls who wanted to hear Tyler Hilton would have been thrilled. But I'd rather play music that I like playing. Music that I can feel good about. Songs I think people should be listening to. I like exposing people to new music, or stuff they haven't heard before. Movie theater lobbies aren't necessarily the best place to do that.

Oh well.

You know me, always on the lookout for new, interesting artists I can geek out about, yes? Well, check this one out. He's not exactly new to the music scene, but I liked his music back in the day, and I like his new stuff now, too, and his new video is really cute. Plus, he has an interesting online journal that I can read to pass the time. If you are so inclined, go back to August of 2004 (Or was it September?) and read about his travels in Ethiopia. Very interesting.

Thoughts of the day:

There is no product in my hair today.

What if none of the venues I talk to on the east coast want to book me?

I have to rework my rehearsal schedule and find spaces.

I can't wait for Liz Phair's new album.

I really just want to make music.

I need a new purse.

I'm not going to sleep for the next three days and I'm kind of nervous about that.

I'm thinking I'm stuck in this job for a while longer as I'm not hearing back from the places I submitted resumes to. And they're probably not calling because I end sentences with prepositions and start them with "and," "but," and "so."

No really, I just want to make music.

Good thing I get to play tonight.

I'm experimenting with bangs today.

Honestly, I'm so tired of my hair that the thought of shaving it all off again is becoming more and more appealing. It's not that is isn't pretty hair -- I really do have gorgeous hair and lots of it -- it's just that I have so much friggin' hair that has so much friggin' volume and body that I can't do anything with it but watch it stick straight up in the air. Now, as cool as that might sound to some of you, I am not the mohawk type. Nor the afro type. I like my hair to lie down neatly. If I could have hair like Brad Pitt in Interview With The Vampire, I would be a very happy lady. As it is, it is three and a half inches long and totally has a mind of its own.

I think I'll feel better after I go to my stylist next week. Maybe he can give it some layers or thin it out or something. Give it some shape, so it's not just this random mass of hair sticking out in all directions. This is the part of the growing out process that I was not looking forward to, and I'm really not enjoying it. Some people will argue that I look really cute with short hair. To those people, thank you. But I'm a long hair person. And by long hair, I don't necessarily mean down to my waist long, just long enough that I can put it in a ponytail when it starts driving me crazy. Is that really too much to ask?

So yeah, I'm experimenting with bangs today. I also pulled out my blow dryer for the first time in months in order to make the bangs happen. I guess the one good thing about my hair is that I can always change it. A little water, a little hairspray, maybe a barrette and poof! Entirely different style. But it has been six months since I last shaved my head. In another six, my hair will be twice as long as it is now, making it about chin length? A little shorter? It will be like it was when I went to Europe, and like it was in the picture I use as the cover of The Hamburg Demos. That was kind of cute. I could play with that. Six more months. Just six more months...

I just treated myself to some good music, and it turned out to be less expensive than I thought. See, I had a few bucks sitting in my PayPal account, so I used those to buy this lovely good music that I've been wanting for a long time. So I am fantastically happy now and will be waiting not-so-patiently by my mailbox for said good music to show up.

If you find yourself lacking in the good music department, let me know. I'll send you some suggestions and/or give you a good, swift kick in the pants to get off your bum and find some music that you really connect with. There really is little in life that is better than some really good music.

Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! Ya wanna talk about vegetables for a minute?

I went grocery shopping this weekend for the first time in about a month. I've been really busy, for one thing, and it's been too hot to cook, for another, and I've been poor for a third, and somehow, even when you're poor, it's easier to justify $5 for Thai food than it is to justify going to the grocery store and spending $50 on food that will last you all week. Anyway. Point being, I'd not grocery shopped in a long time and truth be told, I'd been feeling fat and lazy recently. Which is really funny because one of my friends last night asked me how much weight I've lost. She seems to think I keep getting smaller, when I felt like I was blowing up like a balloon. Anyway. It's probably one of those things that only I noticed.

So as part of my grocery shopping, I went to my favorite produce store and kind of went nuts. I bought enough veggies to make a giant salad, I bought fruit, I bought all kinds of good stuff, most of it organic. And I came home and made said giant salad and ate some of it for lunch yesterday and instantly felt like I had lost about 30 pounds. Something about pumping that much good stuff into my body, as opposed to the junk I had been eating on the run. Food not overloaded with salt. Food not infused with preservatives. Just good, old fashioned organic produce -- lettuces, tomatoes, bell peppers, onion, mushrooms, carrots, celery, daikon radish. Good stuff. It felt like it cleared up my skin and flushed out all kinds of fat and toxins that had been building up. So bizarre. And I realize that it probably really did none of those things -- the fat and toxins I was feeling were imagined. But it was just a nice reminder that I function a lot better and feel a lot better when I eat fresh, organic produce every day. Yay veggies!

You know how when you eat a candy cane and then breathe in, the air is so cold it kind of stings, but in a good way? That's what my head feels like today. On the outside. My absolute favorite shampoo ever was discontinued a while ago, and I stocked up as best I could at that point, but I'm down to my last bottle of shampoo and my last bottle of conditioner, so I thought I would save them for a little while and see what else I could find in the meantime. So in the meantime (Sunday), I found this shampoo with sage, geranium, and mint in it and decided I'd give it a shot. I'm already using the body wash by the same people, so why not, right? My hair and skin will all smell the same. I can't really tell about the soft quotient of my hair 'cuz there is hairspray in it, but it seems to work just fine. And, I think it is because of the mint, but my scalp was sting-y-cold this morning when I got out of the shower. Kind of a cool sensation.

Wow. I'm fascinating, aren't I? Shampoo and the effects of mint on your scalp. w00t. Fabulous Monday morning reading. I should be talking about how amazing the first rehearsal of my show went this weekend, or that the show I'm performing in right now won three awards from Gay Chicago Magazine, including Outstanding Performance, meaning they think we were the best show to hit any Chicago stage in the 2004-2005 season. But instead, I talk about shampoo and the effects of mint on your scalp. I need to get out more.

So you know how if you talk about things, they tend to happen. At least moreso than if you don't talk about them at all. Well, here's my latest scheme...

I was planning on going to New York in December, to visit friends and see a couple of concerts. Now I'm thinking, what if I took a week or two, drove out there, stopping in various cities along the way, and turned it into a mini East Coast tour? I could play somewhere in Indiana, maybe Philly, probably near DC (if not in DC), Boston, New York, maybe even Rhode Island. Just for the sake of getting my music heard, you know? Even if only five people come out to each show, I'll be able to put in my press kit that I played in all these different states at all these different venues, you know? How cool would that be?

So in addition to my goal of finding other musicians and a studio and a producer for my EP and then doing an EP in March, I'm going to see if I can put together a mini tour of the East Coast for December. It'll cost a boatload in gas money, but it will be good exposure, and good experience.

So if anyone out there knows of venues between Chicago and New York, and/or up and down the East Coast that I should try to hit, let me know. As if I didn't already have enough going on in my life...but I'm happiest when I'm crazy busy, right? Right.

Every day, at least once a day, I have to let a fly out of my office. I don't know where all of these flies are coming from, or why they all end up in my office, slamming into my window repeatedly, as flies are wont to do, but it is actually starting to get kind of funny. Let one fly out, wait twenty minutes, and there's another one in his place, slamming into the window. Were I more concerned, I'd start searching my office for rotting, maggot infested meat or something, from whence the flies might be coming. But I honestly don't mind standing up and opening my window once a day to let a fly out. Even twice a day. Much better that they be outside where there is actual food for them to eat as opposed to being trapped in my office with naught but paper.

Ah, clean house.

My Bostonian guy friend and his girlfriend are coming to town and crashing at my place for the weekend (or most of it, anyway). I'm excited to see him and nervous to meet her and I hope my apartment has been de-catted enough that his allergies don't drive him crazy. I really cleaned. I mean, really cleaned. Moved all of my furniture and vacuumed underneath it kind of cleaned. Mopped floors. Twice. Scrubbed stuff. Dusted. Did laundry. Not that he cares if my clothes are clean or not, but I washed blankets and things, too, to try to get some of the cat hair off of them. I hope they are comfortable in my new place. I am getting moreso every day. I think it helped make it feel like home to clean it yesterday. I mean, really clean it. There is something about moving into a place and cleaning it for the first time - you're getting rid of the person who used to live there. But the next time you really clean the place, you're cleaning yourself up. You actually live there now. I've cleaned bits and pieces of the apartment since I moved in -- bathroom, straightening up clutter, kitchen, etc. -- but this was one big two or three hour cleaning session, covering all of the rooms, all of the surfaces. And it felt really good. And strange as it sounds, it feels good to walk on carpet that doesn't have cat hair all over it. You wouldn't think it would make that much of a difference, but it does. I'm going to have to invest in a good vacuum cleaner one of these days. Yes, I can borrow one from a friend, but it would be good to just have one. You know, so I can vacuum anytime the cat hair gets to be too much.

I would like to take a moment to wish a very happy birthday to my honorary sister. It was so nice to chat with you last week. I miss you very much and hope you are well. Kiss the kids for me, and have a very happy birthday! *smooch*

As I watch gas prices climb to three dollars per gallon (for the cheap stuff), I can't help but think that our current Commander in Chief is really doing wonderful things to decrease our dependence on foreign oil. That all of the men and women currently fighting in the Middle East are over there for a good reason, and that the work they are doing is making a difference, and that the lives lost have not been in vain. And that if you can't hear the dripping sarcasm in my voice as I post this entry, you should smack yourself in the head with a 2x4.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking politics, as I don't know the whole story. I only know what I hear in little snippets on the radio as I drive in to work in the morning, and what I see going on around me (like ever-climbing gas prices). I know there are poeple who think that climbing gas prices are a good thing because then people will stop driving so much, and aren't we lucky that gas over here is cheaper than the petrol in Europe, so who are we to be complaining anyway? You know what? We're pretty close to what Europe pays now. Honestly, I'm seeing more and more gas stations charging over three dollars a gallon for the mid-grade and premium stuff, and then this morning, I saw one station charging $2.999 for regular. One tenth of one cent shy of being three dollars a gallon for regular unleaded gasoline. At the same time, I heard that two more soldiers died in Iraq in the last day or so. Granted, not as bad as when we lost thirty-some in one day, but still. That's two more soliders who won't come home to their families. Two more mothers to hang out in Texas, wanting to talk for just five minutes to the man responsible for the death of their children, but being denied the opportunity for god only knows what reason. I'm sorry; I don't want to be political. I wanted very much to remove myself from the whole thing after the last election because it's just too much. But he continues to not do a good job. He continues to ignore the people he is supposed to represent in the name of pushing forward his own agenda, which is doing nothing but getting people killed. Maybe there is some greater purpose on the horizon way down the line, but I don't see it. If it's there, please tell me what it is so I can try to understand him. Because right now, I just don't.

And whatever happened with the whole Karl Rove leaking the CIA agent's name thing? Didn't Bush say that anyone who was even involved in her exposure would be fired? And wasn't it proven that Karl Rove was involved, even though whether or not he spoke her actual name is still up for debate? He was involved. Why was he not fired? An entire nation was convinced not to vote for a man who could have done a better job in the White House than the man currently taking a vacation from it because the other guy was too wishy-washy. And now, Mr. I-Stick-To-My-Guns-No-Matter-What wavers on punishing one of his top advisors who is guilty of a federal offense. Pardon my French, but what the fuck?

Okay, I'm stopping now. I know that for the most part, I am uninformed. I'll admit that. I don't spend my free time scanning CNN or the BBC to try to get the real story from both sides. I just don't have that kind of time. All I know is what I hear on the news, and maybe my news does come from more liberal sources. I do think it was convenient, though, that as soon as the whole Karl Rove thing came out, another big scandal kind of overtook it, and his job security (or lack therof) was pushed out of the spotlight to the point where people don't care anymore. It's not on their radar. And I do want to ask, if the fighting in Iraq is for such a noble cause, why won't he talk to a bereaved mother about it?

Okay, for real this time. I'm stopping now.

My hair is almost long enough to tuck behind my ears now. Which means it's time for a trim.

I'm sorry. That's all I really have to say that isn't related to my play and no, I did not intend for that to rhyme. I got most of the actors I wanted. I'm still waiting to hear back from a couple of people, and I'm reading one more woman tonight in case one of those women says no. I should probably check my messages at home and see if either of them called.

But my boss isn't in today -- he's playing catch-up from home for all of the stuff he missed while he was on vacation -- and it's probably a good thing because my brain is just not functioning in "office mode." It's stuck on "creative." I'm going to need to learn how to turn it on and off a little better so I can function here while I'm in rehearsals.

What am I talking about? This job doesn't require brain power. Silly me thinking I make a difference here.

So yeah, it's almost long enough. I miss my hair, I really do. I miss being able to put it in a ponytail. I miss being able to wake up in the morning, run my fingers through it, and have it look acceptable. I miss the days when I didn't have to put product in it to make it presentable. I guess I could start blow-drying it again, but considering the volume my hair has naturally, I'd probably end up with a 'fro. I was thinking the other day that the last time I got my hair cut really short like this, it took about a year to get it back to shoulder-length. So August of next year, I'll be able to put my hair in a ponytail again.

I started taking vitamins again. August is a long time away...

To everyone I have ever auditioned for in the past, particularly those for whom I auditioned at the beginning of my career:

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you sit through shaky-voiced monologues that were so quiet you couldn't hear me, even though you were in the front row. I'm sorry I made you sit through scared, warbly songs that I thought might be passable. I'm sorry I took up your time with pregnant pauses long enough for an elephant to get pregnant and give birth that I thought were dramatic. I'm so sorry I made you sit through all of that. I know now that you all wanted me to be good. You wanted me to succeed. You wanted me to walk in there, belt out a monologue and a song that would just knock you on your ass. You wanted me to walk in there, take charge, and own the stage. That even if I screwed up royally, if I did it with class and confidence, you'd be impressed. You wanted me to push my own limits and show you something you'd never seen before, maybe because I'd never done it before. And I am so sorry to have taken up your time with my fears, my self-consciousness, my general crappiness. I'm so sorry.

I honestly get it now. Having sat behind the table watching other people come in to audition. I know that I don't mind sitting through the bad ones. I'm a new director, but I like trying to get new people involved in theater. I like trying to give people a chance. But by the same token, I want to put on a good show. I want actors who aren't afraid to push the envelope and take chances. So to those of you who were not called back for my show, I want to say thank you for coming in. Thank you for putting yourself out there, for giving it a shot. I was where you are once, too, and I know it's scary. It does get easier, I promise. Thank you for coming somewhere like my theater to start dipping your feet in the pool, somewhere safe to be nervous and jittery. Please don't give up. Please come back again. And next time, blow us away. Let us hear your voice in the back of the house -- it's a really nice voice. Shout out your monologue with the same fire and passion you yelled at your husband with this morning before you left the house because he left the toilet seat up again. Move your body -- that's what it is there for.

So yeah, I learned a lot from this audition process. A lot about being an actor and a lot about being a director. I learned that when a director says at callbacks, "I wish I could cast all of you," he means it, because I do. I learned that when they say a director knows within the first ten seconds of your monologue whether he/she wants to call you back, it's true -- anything longer than that is a waste of everyone's time. I learned that if you don't hit that first note of the song, you better wow them with the second. And you don't have to sing the whole song, just the exciting part. And I learned that the director wants you to be amazing, just as badly as you want to be amazing. Yes, it seems that the director has the power and control in the room, but without good actors, the director is nothing. He or she will go home after the auditions, really excited about a couple of performers, and at that point, the power is back in the hands of the actor. The actor can choose to not come back to the callbacks, or to not take the job, in which case, the director has to go with a second or third choice, who they might not be excited about at all. In other words, the director is just as excited when an actor takes a job as the actor is when the director calls.

I think I'll have some good people in my show. I'm really excited about the men who came in to audition, and the woman I want as my lead female. I still need to find a couple of women (how bizarre is that, that I couldn't find enough amazing women, but I was inundated with great men?), but even if I cast from only the callbacks I had yesterday, I think there is enough potential there to make for a really good show. Some really excellent voices. Some really excellent dancers. Some really fun actors. I hope they say yes. I'm so ready to start working with them.

Two of my very dear friends are marrying each other today. I don't think they ever check my blog thingy here, but I just want to tell them that I love them and wish them all of the happiness in the world. They are one of those couples that you know will last, because you can see the love and respect that they have for one another, and the connection that they share. They are just beautiful people, individually and together.

I love you guys. I so wish I could be at your wedding, even though it is in Atlanta in August, but since I can't be, I just wanted you to know that I am thinking of you and shedding tears of joy on your behalf. You are amazing. I am so happy for you! *smooch* Now go party your asses off!

I like rain. I really do. Even if it delays Cubs games. I still like rain. I also very much enjoy watching the Cubs pound the division leaders 11-4 to break an eight game losing streak. I'm at the point where I'm pretty sure the Cubs are or will be mathematically eliminated from post-season hopes momentarily, but it still feels good to beat the guys who are leading the division. Shows that nobody is indestructable, you know?

Anyway. I like rain.

It is really weird to look at seemingly endless pictures of oneself. My Texas friend took a boatload of pictures of me this weekend because her husband is going to do my website and we needed some material for him to work with, specifically stuff that isn't six years old. And stuff that makes me look like a rockstar. So we took pictures outside and in my apartment and at an open mic and yadda yadda yadda and it is really bizarre for me to look at that many pictures of myself and try to determine which ones I'm okay with having the whole world look at. Granted, I am about a million times more critical of every shot than anyone else is, but wow. Out of the billion pictures she took, there are about three or four that I like the way they are, and maybe another ten that I could deal with if they were cropped or altered in some way. I don't want to be one of those rockstars who has to have every photo altered because her butt is too big or whatever; I still want to look like me in these shots. But if there is a shot of me wherein my guitar masks my giant hips, versus one wherein my hips are about to overthrow several small countries, I'd rather go for the first one. Yes, I do have that piece of vanity in me. I am that shallow that until such time as I can devote my life to exercising away the small planet that is masquerading as my rear end, I'd rather not post pictures of it all over the net, you know? Is that wrong?

I am excited to see what he is going to do with my site. And once it is up and running, I can have a website launch concert somewhere and give out buttons or something. Because when you have a concert for a reason, people are much more likely to show up. Until you are famous, anyway. When you're famous, they'll show up because you're playing. But until then, incentives are a good thing.

So auditions are this weekend and then my life is no longer mine. Not until November. I never wanted to direct. Honestly. I never wanted to be the one in charge of anything like that. I'm a performer, not a director. See, this is what is known as the denial phase. I'll get through it and then will come acceptance and then excitement. But today, I'm petrified. I feel so unprepared, despite all of my best efforts to prepare over the summer. Well, not totally. I have crew on board. The music is almost done, I think. I have lots of ideas, but I also know that everything I already had planned is going to go straight out the window when I get actors in there with their own ideas and then we have to adjust blocking because that's not where the light hits the stage and so on and so forth. And really all I want are giant dancing vegetables on stage. Is that too much to ask for? Why the hell did I ever say I'd do this? For the experience. And because nobody else was stepping up. I really do like my script, though. I'm not so married to it that I couldn't kind of rip it up and write different lines last night to give each character a more distinct voice, so that's a good thing. But I really do like it. I like the story. I like some of the bits I put in there. Last night, I added a mini Homestar Runner tribute that people will only really get if they're paying rapt attention and love Homestar as much as I do.

But yeah, I'm kind of scared about that whole thing. And I'm tired of not having hair. I do have hair; it's over three inches long now, but it's not hair that I can do a whole hell of a lot with. Or at the very least, I can't put it in a ponytail. Today, I'm trying the "structured messy" look and I don't think it's working all that well. But hey, it's just something different. I'm getting tired of the slicked down boy cut look. I really should go to my stylist and have him clean me up. I really should start taking those prenatal vitamins again to make my hair grow faster.

And I feel like I need to write a new song, but it's just not coming. I have this chord progression that I love, but the lyrics just aren't happening, or they're feeling really trite and contrived. I know I should just sit back and let them happen like I usually do, but I'm getting antsy for a new song to happen, you know?

And it rained last night. I love the sound of a thunderstorm while you're trying to sleep. Honestly, I do. There is something very comforting about thunder. And what was really nice about the storm is that it cooled off the outside air enough that Owen came into my room and slept on my bed with me, instead of on the tile floor in the bathroom where it's cooler. If you ever find yourself frustrated that you can't sleep, just wake up in the dark to a sleeping cat and you'll be so peaceful that even if you don't fall back asleep for a couple of hours, it won't matter.

I haven't heard back about that one job yet and it's kind of making me think they found someone else. I'm crossing my fingers for the music conservatory job, anyway. Maybe I should start by crossing my fingers that I get an interview there.

I got another rejection today. I think the worst part about these online rejections is that I can't remove them from my submission box, so they sit there for months after the fact with a large red "Not Selected" next to them, so I can keep track of exactly how many festivals don't want me anywhere near the stage. If I could clean that out so it only showed the "In Review" and "Standby" messages, I think I'd feel a lot better about myself. I'm also thinking more and more that it will make a marked difference in my career to have a clean, sweet smelling EP as opposed to my cute little demos. It'll sound prettier to the festival people and maybe they'll then have me come play.

And now it's time for more tea. And to take care of the last two projects my boss left for me before he went on vacation.

How about a win today, my dear, sweet Cubs? I'm glad Patterson is back in the majors and we were looking so good until the 8th yesterday. Today is the day to snap the losing streak. Time to start a winning streak, boys! Let's get it in gear!

Ode(s) to Tea

Haiku
Green tea, my green tea
Sunshine on a dark morning
When will I wake up?

Hick poem
Green tea, green tea
Oh you are so loverly
You do so mean the world to me
Oh my lovely, sweet green tea

Frank Sinatra tune
T is for the way you taste to me
E is for each morning I drink thee
A is astounding, awesome, and amazing even
Tea is hotter than that guy last summer, name was Steven
Green is one variety that I like
White is better than a brand new bike
Rooibos is spicy, Black is good, but sometimes dicey
Tea has made my day anew

Limerick
There once was a girl who loved tea
"It just tastes so darn good to me"
She drank mug after mug
She brewed some in a jug
And every twelve minutes had to pee

Beat poem
Tea
man
Tee
Eee
Aaay
A capital T starts the day
And it ends with a
lower-case a
Hot!
Fresh!
Bang!
Wow!
Splash!
on the
...tongue
Hit the bloodstream
Pop the brain
Heart racing, fingers flying
Don't re-brew!
Just one more cup, man
Just one more cup...

In my brief tenure on this planet, I've been to many states and I have to say that for the most part, I have enjoyed them. Some moreso than others, but I don't think I've found any that I really detested. Even Ohio (contrary to popular belief) has a few good things to offer, like the fact that I met Moby there. But I do have to say that probably my least favorite state right now is Awake. I get this feeling that I'd be much happier if I wasn't in Awake so much of the time. I wouldn't have to deal with drunk sound guys putting feedback into the middle of my set or making it sound like I have only three strings on my guitar. I wouldn't have to sit in an office full of paper, staring it down in the hopes that it will, one day, file itself. I wouldn't have to deal with sunburned eyeballs. Granted, I go a lot of very strange places and see a lot of really wacky stuff when I am not in Awake, but none of it is real, so no matter how scary it gets, it can't really hurt me.

Or maybe I should just stop going to open mics that go until two o'clock in the morning on school nights...

I'm sunburnt and I hate my job.

That's all I got time for right now. Hopefully I'll be back later.

Another rejection. Hooray.

Not a whole lot else to say about that. It was a very strange experience today; a woman I know who teaches music and voice and whatnot was asking me for career advice. How to make a website, how to get gigs, where to go for a good demo, etc. And then I come home to another festival rejection. It's just weird.

I also did this photo shoot whereat I was background material, and one of the foreground guys had an ego the size of an elephant's ass. And it was so tempting to say, "Yeah? I'm in a Jeff Recommended show." But I didn't. That would have been petty.

And all of this after having my picture taken left and right for my website. Is it all worth it? I dunno. It's just been a really strange weekend for my career and my ego. Good, bad, weird, long, hot, sticky. Sounds like a list of ex-boyfriends, too.

I'm wearing a dress today. Okay, so it's not THAT strange for me to be wearing a dress to work, but this is a dress I've never worn to work. It's a dress I made several years ago to go swing dancing in.

It is red.

Bright red.

With white flowers on it.

And a full skirt.

I can't decide if it makes me feel pretty or tarty or cute, but whatever it is, I kind of like it. For a very long time, I've been feeling disconnected from women who wear dresses and skirts for no particular reason. I am very much a long pants person (or trousers, for our British friends, as pants means something totally different over there). But last night, I ironed this dress so that I could wear it to work, and then tried it on to make sure it still fits (which it basically does, though not quite like a glove), and I turned out the lights in my apartment and played my guitar while wearing my dress. It felt really good. Like I reconnected with my femininity or something. I know, crazy, huh? Just from wearing a dress for no particular reason. When I was a little girl, I used to only wear dresses. I was such a little girl! Pink and frills and the more the skirt would twirl, the better. I actually really liked wearing dresses out swing dancing, too, again with really twirly skirts. Dresses just seem to have become more of a chore as of late. I wear them to work or fancy occasions where I feel out of place anyway, and I think I've started to blame that on the dresses, as in "I can't be comfortable in a dress." But this cute little red dress of mine is making me remember that I can be comfortable in a dress. Very comfortable. And pretty, too. Quite a contrast to Leroy, huh? They're thinking about extending the show again, this time through the beginning of November, at which point we would either have to let it die because the space isn't available anymore, or we would have to find a different space. I'm so torn. In a lot of ways, I'm done with this show. I'm tired of being dirty every Friday night. I'm ready to move on from Leroy. But it's not like it's a huge time commitment. And, selfish as it sounds, he's my part and I don't know that I want to give him up to somebody else. I know I got him because the woman who was originally going to play the part couldn't, and I've felt through the whole run that I have to prove that I'm just as good as she would have been. If I don't do the extension, she probably will, and I'm afraid of hearing things like, "Phew! We finally got the Leroy we wanted." I don't think that would be the case -- as near as I can tell, both directors are extremely proud of and pleased with the work I've done. But there is that little voice in the back of my head. And I know it's not fair of me to keep her role just so that she can't have it. But technically, it is my role. And this is all sounding really distasteful and mean, isn't it? Not at all "pretty girl in a red dress," is it? I'll have to think a little bit more about the extension before I decide to do it or not. I did feel on Friday like I was hitting my stride in the new space. Maybe it will get better from here on out and I'll want to stay with it longer. Who knows? Anyway.

I'm wearing a dress today.

Okay, so he tested positive for steroids and got a 10 game suspension. I think that's fair. What confuses me is his reasoning: he didn't know he was taking steroids. Why did he not know? I'm not doubting he didn't know; that's not what I'm saying. I am perfectly happy to believe the fact that he didn't know what was in those cute little pills his trainer or the guy in the alley or whoever was giving him. My question is, why did he not ask what was in those pills? See, if some random person offered me pills, the conversation would probably go like this:

Me: Man, I'm sore.
Other Person: Here, take a couple of these.
Me: What are they?
OP: They'll make you feel better.
Me: It is Tylenol? Advil? What is it?
OP: Trust me.
Me: Um, no, thanks. I'll be fine if I just stretch out a bit.

Not to be a goodie two shoes, but I don't like to put drugs into my body if I don't know what they are and what they'll do. And even when I do know what they are, I only put them in there if I absolutely have to (like monthly when the little critters wearing spiked shoes do the merengue in my uterus making it impossible for me to stand up). Especially if I was in a profession where I was either tested regularly for drug usage or there was the likelihood that someone might be giving me steroids without my knowledge (i.e. professional baseball player becoming only the fourth person ever to have 3,000 hits and 500 home runs), I'd make doubly sure I knew what was in every pill I put in my body.

But honestly, I know several people like that. For whom the conversation goes something like this:

Person: Man, I'm sore.
Other Person: Here, take this.
Person: Okay. *gulp* Whoa, dude! I feel great!

I don't understand that. Not to climb up onto a high horse or anything, but I don't get it. There are plenty of people out there doctoring drugs so that they can be lethal with one dosage, i.e. a bad hit of ecstasy. I know addiction is a powerful thing, but if you take one bad hit of something, you won't be around to enjoy your addiction anymore. I also know a bunch of people who just don't care; they want to try everything. As much as I would like to live my life to the fullest, there are certain things I just don't feel a need to try. Like chopping off my own arm. And taking some mystery pills offered to me by some random guy/girl who refuses to tell me what is in them.

I don't mean to cast dispersions on people who take recreational drugs. Whatever you want to do to your body is fine with me, as long as you are safe about it (though even that isn't really my call to make. You're allowed to do whatever you want with your body. And I'm allowed to worry about you if you make what I consider to be dangerous choices. I won't stop you from making those choices, but I will worry about you). And taking mystery drugs falls into the category of "not safe," so I'm going to worry about you if you take them.

So yeah, let this be a lesson to all professional athletes out there -- always ask your trainer what the pills are that you are taking. If he/she doesn't know or won't tell you or says something you don't understand, don't take the pills. Sitting out a game to heal a bruise or whatever is preferable to a multi-game suspension because they found something in your pee that wasn't supposed to be there. Just be careful, is all I'm sayin'.

Okay, I'm done now.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Wow, it's August already. When did that happen?

This means my friends get married in less than a month. My other set of friends who are getting married will be married in two weeks.

I get to hang out with my Texas friend in two days. It will also be really fun to have a friend in the audience on Friday night. They say you've made it when you are no longer performing for your friends and family, but there is something to be said for getting support from those around you, too.

Auditions for my play are in two weeks.

I should get a bunch more rejection notices from festivals to which I submitted my music this month.

It means the baseball season is winding down. Congratulations to Ryne Sandberg, by the way, for his Hall of Fame induction over the weekend.

I could be getting a check this month from my old property managment company as I went on Friday to file suit against them. About which I feel kind of icky -- I never thought I would be the sort to file a lawsuit -- but the more I see how my current property managment company handles things, the more I see how badly the old company did stuff. Failure to notify tenants when the water would be shut off for repairs/whatnot. Failure to notify tenants when they moved. Entering my apartment without my permission, with the excuse that they "accidentally showed my unit when it was another unit for rent" and then locking me out because they never gave me one of the keys to my place. That kind of thing. My new property managment company doesn't do that. They over-notified us all when they moved. They posted a sign a week before they were going to shut off the water so they could repair the pipes. They gave me keys to all of the locks associated with my apartment. That kind of thing. So as icky as I feel about filing suit against the old company because I wish it didn't have to come to that, they really were crappy landlords and maybe just need a wake up call that they should read up on what their responsibilities are as landlords. And this is without bringing into it the debacle that was my moving out. Anyway...

I think I get to see an old high school friend tonight, too, which should be fun. If for no other reason then because he gives really good hugs.

I've started dreaming about another musical artist who I really enjoy. Let me rephrase: I like this guy's music and think he is an intelligent person. It's an artistic crush, not a romantic one. And in my dream, I got to see him play live and he gave me his sweater. Yes, I am a dork.

I could have a new job within the month, a prospect that both excites me and scares the crap out of me.

It's been kind of nice to have a quiet-ish kind of month. But it looks like things are really going to be picking up soon and I'm going to get insanely busy. Hooray! Wish me luck that it all turns out. I'm excited to get cracking on my play. I think it's going to turn out really well. Speaking of which, I should go post the audition announcement again so it doesn't disappear completely.

I performed well last night. Really well. Probably better than I have since we moved to the new space. And truth be told, it felt great. I had been getting kind of complacent with my role and my performances, and last night, I just decided to kick it back up a couple of notches. When I got compliments after the show, I felt like I actually deserved them, which was nice.

I guess this should serve as a reminder to me that no matter how comfortable I am in a role, no matter how many times my friends tell me they are going to come see the show and don't, I still have to go out there and give it my all. I can't take anything for granted, and I can't sit back and rest on my laurels. Do I have laurels? Anyway, I still have to go out there and perform. Every audience deserves a great performance and it is my job to make sure they get one.

So little time, so much to say...

If you have a moment and some positive energy to spare, please send it in the general direction of my Virginia friend. His mother will be going in for a biopsy and we're all keeping our fingers crossed that it is not breast cancer, but we could use a few more crossed fingers, if you know what I mean.

Thanks.

The best thing about the bleachers at Wrigley is that you can check out the player's asses, and lemme tell ya, there were some nice ones there last night.

Okay, I'm done now.

As much fun as it is to complain about the heat, I have to say that I love it. I love it that we're having an actual summer in Chicago this year. I love it that it is so sweltering hot outside that air conditioners are breaking and even though you have fans in your windows, you still sweat just sitting there. I'm not big on the greasy face feeling, but I love the hot.

And I love it that I'm going to the Cubs game tonight. Granted, it is supposed to rain today and then get nice and cool tonight, so I'm torn about what I should wear to the ballpark, but I get to go to a Cubs game tonight. My first of the season. How sad is that that I haven't been to a game yet this summer? I'll be sitting in the bleachers with my brother and a bunch of his friends. Here's hoping it's a night full of Cubbie home runs!

So yeah, enjoy the hot, watch the Cubs game tonight, and...um...eat a popsicle or something. Strawberry popsicles and lemonade make a fantastic summertime combination. I'm just sayin'.

And a very happy birthday to my Dad. I love you, Dad.

I know it's really distasteful to laugh at one's own jokes, but I wanted to share this one because it was funny. I played a show on Saturday night to a pretty decent sized crowd. Now, before this show, I had been at my friend's bachelorette party and had two glasses of wine. I drank a lot of water, too, but when I got to the concert venue, I had a glass of soda (my second of the evening) because I wanted to avoid getting any drunker/tipsier. I wasn't very bad to begin with, but still. I wanted to be able to play. And what it all resulted in was I was very caffeinated by the time I got up on stage. Which made me chatty. But in a good way. I have to say, out of all of the shows I've done thus far, my banter at this one was probably the best. It helped that the audience was playing along, too. Anyway. I played "Astoria Park" and then told the audience that I was really caffeinated and "Astoria Park" is supposed to be about 15 minutes long and apologized for speeding through it. I thought it was funny. They thought it was funny. You probably don't think it's funny because you weren't there and here I am recounting a joke of mine on my website that just isn't funny unless you were there to hear it in person. Shame on you for not being there.

Tee hee.

So, the moral of the story is that I should do all of my shows not drunk, but caffeinated. Heavily caffeinated. Which means for two days before any of my shows, I should not ingest any caffeine so that when I have a soda or two before the show, it really hits me.

I'm such a rockstar, drinking soda before I perform.

Ooo! I almost forgot. Funny!

I don't know if any of you have been watching the television show "Hooking Up," about 11 New York women doing online dating, but I have been. It's fun. It's interesting. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only person who goes on bad dates. Anyway. One of the men on the show last night is a guy I went to high school with! I know! Funny. I didn't know him all that well back then, but he went to prom with a dear friend of mine, and as near as I could tell, he was a really cool guy. Even back then, when there was so much pressure to conform and fit in and whatever, he was his own person. I always thought that was a really cool thing about him.

I found myself wishing that I could get a message to the girl that went out with him, to let her know that he is a quality person. Granted, I haven't talked to him in years, but I could tell, just from the little snippets of the show that if anything, he's gotten cooler over the years. I wish I could let her know that he is cool. He is worth knowing. Granted, if I were to tell her that now, it would probably be too late -- it looks like they break up next week. What's really sad about that is that he looks really hurt by it. I hope he's okay.

Who knows? Maybe I should look him up when I'm in New York next. Or, if he goes to our reunion, I'll have something to talk to him about. Anyway, I just thought it was funny that someone I know, someone who was in my prom group, was on a reality television show. I wish I could say hi to him. I wonder if he remembers me at all...

I feel compelled today to revisit my list of things I'd like in a life partner, just to remind myself of what they are, so I can keep them in mind as I go forward in my life. This list was originally compiled in December of 2003, and has had a couple of additions since then, but here goes:

I'd like to be with a guy who shaves his head. Or at the very least has the confidence to do so if he doesn't.
I'd like to be with a guy who looks at me when he's talking to me. Looks me in the eye.
I'd like to be with a guy who is artistic with good cause to be. Someone who can really sing. Or really paint. Or who acts so beautifully it makes me cry.
I'd like to be with a guy who understands that it is the time we spend together that is important, regardless of what we do with that time.
I'd like to be with a guy who is not materialistic, but has one thing that he will splurge on like musical instruments or video games.
I'd like to be with a guy who understands the value of comfortable shoes and clothes and the importance of being comfortable in his own skin.
I'd like to be with a guy who isn't afraid of interpersonal communication, be it positive or negative, happy or sad.
I'd like to be with a guy who will take the time to really ask people how they are and take the time to really listen to the answer.
I'd like to be with a guy who will make an ass out of himself in public.
I'd like to be with a guy who doesn't pass judgment on people who are different from him.
I'd like to be with a guy who has an in insatiable thirst for knowledge.
I'd like to be with a guy who eats vegan food not to humor me but because he likes it.
I'd like to be with a guy who eats.
I'd like to be with a guy who not only understands my need for time by myself but who needs his own time, too, and values it.
I'd like to be with a guy whose touch makes me feel safe.
I'd like to be with a guy who will call me on it when I'm full of shit without making me feel like I'm two inches tall, will talk to me about it, and forgive me for it.
I'd like to be with a guy who will talk to me.
I'd like to be with a guy who will totally geek out about something.
I'd like to be with a guy who instinctively knows when to hold my hand and when to let me do my own thing.
I'd like to be with a guy who does one thing better than anyone else in the world.
I'd like to be with a guy who thinks I do one thing better than anyone else in the world.
I'd like to be with a guy who laughs openly, freely, honestly, and often.
I'd like to be with a guy who has his own friends.
I'd like to be with a guy who knows when to be serious and when to kid around.
I'd like to be with a guy who can keep up with me in a battle of wits and a battle of words.
I'd like to be with a guy with the rhythm, confidence, and creativity to really dance.
I'd like to be with a guy who appreciates the wonder with which a small child views the world because to some extent, he sees the world that way, too.
I'd like to be with a guy who cleans up after himself.
I'd like to be with a guy who calls for no real reason, but not every day.
I'd like to be with a guy who would do drugs if he had the time but he doesn't so he doesn't.
I'd like to be with a guy who believes that in general, people are good.
I'd like to be with a guy who kisses me so that I can feel it in my toes.
I'd like to be with a guy who can just go nuts sometimes.
I'd like to be with a guy who believes in something.
I'd like to be with a guy who is actively trying to make the future brighter.
I'd like to be with a guy who doesn't think that commitment or marriage is a death sentence or a condemnation to a life of misery as it seems to be for so many people around us.
I'd like to be with a guy who believes in himself, believes in me, and believes in us.
I'd like to be with a guy who knows what errogenous zones are and how to use them.
I'd like to be with a guy who has a lot of errogenous zones.
I'd like to be with a guy who is a generous tipper.
I'd like to be with a guy who loves me anyway.
I'd like to be with a guy who will go see a live band he's never heard before.
I'd like to be with a guy who has learned from the experiences in his life.
I'd like to be with a guy who finds beauty in unlikely places.
I'd like to be with a guy who is geographically accessible.
I'd like to be with a guy who loves Owen (and other animals) as much as I do.
I'd like to be with a guy who understands that not all physical contact has to result in intercourse.

I think that's good for now. Keep that in mind, Kitty, and don't settle for less.

And while black pepper cashews are heavenly for the tastebuds, they are hellish for the breath. I better brush my teeth really good before I do any smoochin'.

I wonder if I should be worried about the fact that I'm not really sleeping. Not at night, anyway. The past couple of nights, I've actually been in bed at a decent hour, and it hasn't been ungodly hot in my room, so all things would seem to be a-go for me to get some decent sleep, but it's been eluding me until about 4:30 in the morning. And then, of course, being the cute, energetic kitty that he is, Owen wants me up at 5:30 to play with and feed him. I love him, I really do, and I know that at 5:30 in the morning, it is cool enough in my apartment that he can run around and play like kitties are supposed to, but big Kittys like to be sleeping at 5:30 in the morning, unless they are out at a really raging party and intend to sleep during the day to make up for it.

I don't think the lack of sleep is getting to me too too much. Yes, it would be nice to sleep more, but I don't feel like I'm suffering or lagging or anything. Mostly, it's just frustrating to lie in bed for hours trying to fall asleep while your mind runs through every song you've ever heard, all at the same time, with a couple random conversations you've had (or wish you had) mixed in for good measure. Maybe I need a new bed. The one I'm currently using is...sixteen years old now? Sweet jebus. Okay, I'll do some bed research on the interweb, see what I can find and if it will fit into my budget.

So a different job may actually be on the horizon. It's scary. It's exciting, but scary. When will I find time to post my blogs if my job keeps me busy all of the time? And I do feel bad because I really do like my boss. I dunno. We'll see. I have a preliminary phone interview this afternoon (presuming the doctor for whom I would be working has fifteen minutes to spare) and it is entirely possible that she and I won't click. I don't have to take this other job, either, if it is offered to me. There are any one of a million reasons why I might just stay where I am. But the thought of having a job that doesn't bore me to tears is, well, enticing. I dunno. I'll miss my current boss quite a bit. He's really cool and a lot of fun to work for, and you don't find that often in lawyers. I should stop listening to sappy music when I'm posting this stuff. And I should get back to cleaning up my office so that if I do leave, whoever moves in here won't have to.

So I'm competing in the finals of this open mic tonight and I'll admit it -- I'm nervous. The idea of competition is, well, daunting. And I think it's really difficult to compete with music. Everyone who performs there has his or her own style -- how can you say one is better than the other? Which is why it is all based on audience applause. It is totally subjective, but not totally honest. Everyone who is competing will tell all of their friends and family members to come out and cheer really loud for them so that they will win. So this is, in effect, a competition to see who can bring in the most audience members. Unless your song really really kicks ass and you win over somebody else's friends and family members. It's totally a popularity contest and I've never done well in popularity contests.

I like the song I'm going to play, though. I think it's a really good one, and I think it has the potential to win over a few strangers, if I play it well. I mostly just have to remember to relax. And I'm debating whether or not I should announce that if I win any money, at least some of it is going to go to my friend's Avon Walk effort. She's walking in New York. I'm insanely jealous and would join her, but that walk is the opening weekend of my kid's show. Which I really should be there for. Anyway. Since I can't walk with her, the best way I can think of to support her is to raise awareness and try to help her raise money wherever I can. So I do intend, if I win the open mic tonight, to donate at least some of the winnings to her cause. I'll make a donation regardless, but if I win, it will be a bigger one.

And, if I win, I'll get a microphone. A pretty decent one, from what I can tell. That's the part I'm looking forward to. That's what I really want to win. Get me on the road to being able to record stuff at home.

So wish me luck tonight! I have to remember to keep breathing. If I'm shaking and not breathing, I will not play well. So keep breathing, Kitty, keep breathing.

I watched two television programs last night that I feel need some comment, and seeing as this is the place for me to empty my brain as I see fit, I will comment.

The first was Extreme Makeover. This show makes me incredibly sad and sick to my stomach. It does not bother me to see the surgeries, or what the women look like before the surgery or whatever -- that's not the sickening part. The sickening part is that these women feel like they need surgery in order to be beautiful. There was one woman on the show last night who was adorable, very sweet, very loving, wonderful mother, adored and was adored by her husband, but she's felt ugly her entire life for whatever her physical flaws are/were. She kept saying she wanted her outside to match her insides, so she needed a nose job and a brow lift and liposuction and a tummy tuck and blah blah blah blah blah. That just makes me so sad. It makes me sad that the focus in our society is SO heavily placed on physical appearance that this wonderful, beautiful woman had to alter her appearance to the point where she looked in the mirror and said, "I don't even look like me." How? Why? Why would you do that? Granted, there are those who will tell you that I am not one to talk or cast dispersions on others because I have the cute button nose and the really big eyes and the nice, round, pert boobs. But I had horrible skin when I was younger. I have really big hips and a large ass. I am, in no sense of the word, perfect, and I did spend the vast majority of my life thus far feeling absolutely repulsive. It hasn't been until the last five or six years that I have started to appreciate my physicality and what it has to offer. And now that I've gotten there, the absolute last thing I would ever want to do is surgically alter my body. If I want to lose weight, I'll exercise more and eat better. I have even come to embrace my acne scars as badges of courage and marks of character in my face. I would not let someone cut me up to stretch my skin tight across my face so I look younger. I look forward to getting old and getting wrinkles and getting gray hair. I think I will be even more beautiful when my age really begins to show. So yeah, it makes me sad that people will go to such drastic extremes to look physically beautiful. Physical beauty is such a fleeting thing anyway.

And that show was followed up by one wherein we followed several women through the world of online dating. You all know I read online personal ads -- I've admitted it before and even commented on how people could make their ads better. But it was interesting to see what the experience is like for these other women. How they handle bad dates. Who they will and won't kiss on a first date. How they feel before, during, and after a date. How they avoid a second date. How they feel if the guy doesn't want another date. I'm horrible at dating; I'll admit that. It's one of the big reasons I don't do it very much (that, and the busy factor). But it was kind of nice to see that opening conversations are just as dull for other people on first dates as they have been for me. It's nice to see that I'm not the only one who feels like I'm mentally cheating if I go out on two first dates in close proximity to one another. It's nice to see that I'm not the only one who has bad dates. I dunno. I was almost tempted to go back online and respond to some of the ads I had seen, though I do kind of feel bad for a guy who gets an e-mail saying, "I'm really too busy to date right now, but I just wanted to say that your ad caught my eye and you seem like a really cool person. I hope this whole thing works out for you in one way or another, even though it won't be with me." How weird would that e-mail be to receive? Tee hee.

And I saw it, and it was good. Really good. That little boy is the cutest little boy in film right now. Seriously. And he's so good. Please don't let Hollywood kill him like it does to so many other child actors. But yeah, go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Even if you think you won't like it because you love the original, go see it. This is the kind of movie I wish I had been involved with. So good. So good.

*sigh*

I'm trying really hard to not get too excited, but I'm going to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory tonight, but it's not really working.

I am a fan of the original film with Gene Wilder. Not an uber fanatical fan, but a fan. I just rewatched it last week and rediscovered a bunch of things I had forgotten that are really funny, most of them throw-away lines of Gene Wilder's ("I'm sorry, all questions must be submitted in writing."). But there was always something about the film that made me uncomfortable. I don't know if it is just because Dahl's books often have that effect on me or that the film screams, "I WAS MADE IN THE 1970'S!!!!!!" but something about it always made me feel...ooky, I guess.

So imagine my delight when I find out that my favorite director is remaking the film! Sorry, not "remaking" but "making another version of" the film! Both Burton and Depp have stressed that they are not trying to redo the movie -- it was good as it was. They are just making another version thereof. And who better to do a movie so steeped in visual effects than Tim Burton? Who better to balance the child-like thrill of a chocolate factory with the creepiness of a Dahl story than Tim Burton? I, for one, am really excited. I'm trying hard not to get excited, but I always do when I get to go see a new Burton film.

So after the 12:01am showing (so technically, I'm seeing it tomorrow morning), I'll let you know what I actually think. I hope it's good.

In all truth, I'm not the slightest bit surprised that the American League won the All Star Game. I'm not. They usually do. I don't think it has anything to do with American League players being better players; I think they hit the ball harder. But, and I know I'm going to get lambasted for this, I've always felt that American League baseball isn't real baseball, like it's cheating. For those of you ready to pelt me with bricks, I have two words: designated hitter. This guy does nothing in the game but hit. And maybe run, if he gets a hit. That's it. He's there to hit. He's there because the pitcher isn't a good enough hitter. The simple fact that American League baseball has the designated hitter means that the focus of the game is shifted to place more emphasis on hitting than any other aspect of the game. Whereas in the National League, everyone has to be a good all-around player, pitchers, too. Which is also why I love the Cubs. Maddux, Wood, Prior, Zambrano, and Rusch have all hit home runs in their careers. National League pitchers are all around players. American League pitchers are purely defensive. That bothers me. One of the things I love about baseball is that everyone is offensive and defensive, unlike just about every other sport. To rob American League pitchers of half of their role...it's always seemed like cheating to me.

So anyway, I'm not surprised that the American League took the All Star Game. We'll see which really is the better league come the World Series. Though if the Cardinals get to the World Series again this year, I'm cheering for the American League. Sorry. I just can't cheer for the Cardinals.

Okay, so a little while ago, I posted some tips for people venturing into online dating, to try to make their journey a little more pleasant, a little more successful. Now I feel it is time to offer some words of advice to those still mucking about in the real world.

* Drunkenness may seem to give you courage, but it also robs you of your ability to use spoken language. If you are chatting up a member of the opposite sex who keeps having to ask you to repeat what you are saying, stop. Think. "Are those real words coming out of my mouth? Are they in an order that makes sense? Do my consonants sounds like vowels?" If you answered yes to that last question and no to the first two, it is time to stop drinking, walk away, vomit in the bathroom, and try again with a different person at a different bar in a different state. Because chances are, all of the friends of the person you were chatting up know by now that you're a lush.

* If you profess your love for the person you are chatting up before you know what his/her name is, it is not going to go anywhere. I'm not saying your chances of marriage and a happy life are ruined, I'm saying your chances of leaving the table or section of the bar you are leaning against with said person are ruined. If it was love at first sight, you'd have a much harder time saying so because you would be scared shitless.

* Going in for the kiss: if the other person pulls away, or turns a cheek, or better yet, turns a cheek AND pulls away, don't try again later, unless you are trying with a completely different person who is even drunker than you are because nobody in their right mind wants your sloppy seconds.

* Look at the person you are chatting up. Is the person well dressed? Yes. Is the person sitting with legs or arms crossed? Yes. Is the person paying more attention to the band on stage than you? Yes. Is the person falling down drunk? No. Is the person going to be impressed by you drinking straight out of the pitcher? Let's think about that one for a minute.

* If you are tone deaf, do not attempt to serenade strangers in a bar.

* Honesty and vulnerability are good things in a healthy, adult relationship. Telling an absolute stranger, "I just want someone to love me," is not the way to begin a good, healthy, adult relationship.

I hope these tips have been helpful. Please join us again next week when we examine the proper way to smack the object of your affection upside the head with a tuna.

And poof! Just like that. Gone. Every picture, every short movie saved on my memory card in my digital camera. Gone.

It's not a horrible travesty, but it does make me a little resentful of so much technology. I hadn't downloaded the pictures I took of Moby at Summerfest yet. There were still photos from my Europe trip on there that I liked to look at from time to time when I was away from my computer. And I've had some problems with my computer at home, not being able to find photos that I uploaded a long time ago, so to suddenly have everything go poof! Well, it's a little disappointing.

On the other hand, it is a little bit liberating. I have a whole memory card to fill up now, with whatever I want. A clean slate, if you will. I started last night with a couple of pictures of Owen, sleeping behind my guitar. I think I will call the picture "My Favorite Things," as it is my sweetheart sleeping in my music corner. What more could a girl want?

Speaking of Owens, one of my co-workers is now the proud father of a little boy named Owen. Congratulations to the happy new parents, and welcome to the world, Owen! I think it's really sweet that you named your son after my cat.

Tee hee.

I got myself a Pilates DVD the other day. I should say "another one" because I already had one. So I got myself another Pilates DVD the other day and for the past two days after work, I have gone home and done Pilates before dinner and I think I am finally doing them right. My hips and thighs and butt are sore, but in the good way sore. I'm not stiff, nor is my movement hindered. But I know I did something and it was good. And today, I somehow feel like I'm walking taller or something. Could be because I'm wearing my glasses today because I didn't get home from rehearsal until 1:30 last night and glasses always make the world look different than contact lenses do, or it could be my powerhouse getting stronger and holding me up better. I don't know. I do know that I've really enjoyed doing Pilates for the last couple of days and I hope I keep this up for a while. It's a good way to get some exercise in a hot apartment without dying.

I'm sorry, I feel like a horrible person for saying this, but I can't listen to more news reports about London. I need to stop looking at the pictures online. I need to stop reading story after story. I just can't do it.

Maybe the terrorists have a right to be angry, but the one thing they do not have is the right to deprive others of their lives. There are so many more effective ways to deal with anger than blowing things up and killing people. That only sparks more anger and it becomes a vicious circle. And in the announcement that was posted on the website of the group claiming responsibility, it says that those who warn others of their actions are excused. Am I the only one who thinks that is a load of crap? Especially when the warning is something along the lines of, "If you don't stop that, you'll be sorry." That's not a warning. That's a vague threat. Sure, if someone says to me, "I'm swinging my arms around like this and if you walk into them, you will get hit," then it is my bad for walking into said arms (though by the same token, the swinger of the arms could chose to be the bigger person and stop swinging the arms). But "Something bad might happen one day" is not a warning. That's not going to stop me from doing what I'm doing, unless I stop functioning all together. Yes, it's just semantics, but in the case of the 37 Londoners who don't get to go home to their families ever again, and the hundreds who will never get to hug their friends again, semantics are a big deal.

I also feel like I shouldn't be talking about this at all since I have no first-hand knowledge of either side, really. All my rhetoric is lovely, but not worth a whole hell of a lot when the passenger next to me on the train goes flying up through the roof of the train, thanks to the bomb that was beneath his seat. Or when an uninvolved, uninvited country comes into mine and starts killing people and setting mandates. It's not really my place to pass judgment on either side. I'm sorry for that.

I hope my friends in London are okay.

I hope everyone else's friends in London are okay.

I know London will be okay -- there are so many messages on BBC.com from Londoners thanking one another for their assistance and saying that if London survived World War 2, it will certainly survive this. So I know London will be okay. It just really sucks that it has to go through this anyway.

My heart is with you, London.

My heart goes out to the people of London, and to the families and friends of those who were killed or injured.

Goals. Time to set some goals.

I'm working with a friend in Texas on my website. Yes, an actual, official website where you can download things and read stuff and look at things. Maybe even buy stuff, if I have stuff to sell. Tee hee. I should sell my old crap on there just in case I have any "fans" who want "collectables." "And here we have for sale the green corduroy pants that Kitty wore not only in 'Dancing with Gaia,' but in 95% of the photographs you will find of her between 2001 and 2004. They now have a giant hole in the ass which is why she no longer wants them." Tee hee. But goal-wise...he's kind of busy right now, and I'm kind of busy right now, but let's say by the end of the calendar year, I hope to have a website up and running. That gives us six months to get our act together. I think that should work. So by year's end, actual website.

By October, after my kids show is up and running, I would like to find other musicians to work with to flesh out some of my songs. I have leads on a bassist (who sadly lives very far away, and depending on how much of a pain in the ass it becomes, I might have to find another) and possibly a percussionist (or if not the person I'm thinking of, I know someone else with lots of connections to studio musicians). But in October, I'd like to start really looking for other people to work with. People who are comfortable with being back up musicians who have some creative input. People who can record with me, and possibly play a gig or two here and there. But yeah, in October, I want to start looking around for that. So that by...

March, I'd like to start recording an EP. A slick, smooth, sweet-smelling EP. Only five or six songs, but I want them to be tight. I want this to be something I can sell confidently, with nice artwork, and market to labels, festivals, promoters, clubs, etc. Why March? My car will be paid off by then, and the holiday financial crap should be straightened out, so I should (I hope) have some money that I can actually spend on this by then.

But yeah, that's my plan. Website. Fellow musicians. EP.

Wish me luck!

Hippy pappy bthudsda thudsday to my very wonderful, very beautiful mother. I love you, Mom!

I wonder what Owen would do if I brought home a bunny...

I am now the very proud owner of two cute little tins of silver needle white tea from TeaNY in New York, courtesy of (I believe) my brother. I would like to say thank you to my brother as this is, in fact, the best tea in the world. So light. So smooth. So...pure tasting. So yummy. I'm on my third cup already this morning.

There's just something really nice about waking up with a cup of tea and the memory of seeing your favorite musician the previous two nights in a row. Granted, I think the show in Milwaukee was better than the show last night, but I could still very happily go see him again tonight. I could very happily spend the rest of my life watching him make music. But I know my gushing gets old, so I'll stop. And go back to drinking my tea. My fabulous silver needle white tea. Everything is better with white tea.

Moby concert in Milwaukee last night. Another one in Chicago tonight. I think my heart might just explode with love for the human race.

I've been feeling, well, a little off as of late. There have been some nasty things said about me to my face which on first glance are, well, really nasty. But I've had a chance to think about them, really think about them, and I can see that they aren't really true. Just an attempt to make me feel bad about myself. So I go by myself to this Moby show last night, and I meet two very lovely people who spend their evening talking to me and dancing with me and enjoying fireworks with me and all of that. They could have ignored strange girl sitting by herself, but chose to open themselves up to someone new, and I chose to open myself up to someone new, too, and we all had a lovely evening. No games. No manipulation. Just people enjoying good music. I thank them for that. Thank you!

And damn, was that good music! I almost fell off the bench we were standing on about twenty times, but had I broken my neck at the concert, it would have been totally worth it. If you have never gotten to see someone doing what he or she most loves to do, totally aware of the fact that he or she is completely blessed that he or she gets to do this, you'll have no idea what I'm talking about. But Moby and his whole band just have so much fun on the stage! They love playing music. They love playing music with each other. They love playing music with each other for thousands of screaming fans. And the fans love every second of it, too. Such good energy. It was like taking a spiritual bath and afterwards, I just felt good.

I got to meet him again, too, behind the venue. A bunch of people were waiting for autographs and stuff, and he was very patiently and very diligently trying to get to everyone. I got my "Hotel" cover signed and a bunch of good pictures. He signed this one woman's breasts, but didn't turn it into a lewd thing. I was impressed by that. He's so gentle and unassuming and he even seemed a little overwhelmed by how many people were there who wanted to greet him. He knows he is blessed and is thankful for it, you can tell. And in addition to being intelligent and artistic and non-judgmental and socially aware...I know I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, and I apologize for the redundancy, but he is a credit to the human race.

Thank you, Moby, for everything that you do and for being who you are.

Happy Fourth of July, everybody!

I know in the past year or so, I have said some disparaging things about this country and it's current administration. Truth of the matter is, I love my country, despite it's current administration. I love it that I live in a country where I can say what I want to say on this public journal, I can live in my own space, I can hold whatever job I choose, I can dream as big as I want. And I particuarly love the city in which I live. Chicago is my home. Chicago welcomes you with open arms, great food, wonderful music, all kinds of cultural opportunitites. Yes, it gets hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but it is home to the greatest baseball park in the world, that is home to the team with the greatest heart in all of baseball. Chicago has the greatest skyline. Chicago has wonderful parks and beaches and festivals and theaters and shops and schools and people and on and on and on. I love my home in Chicago and I am thankful every day that I get to live here.

Have a safe and happy Fourth!

I think more people should take voice lessons. And I'm not just talking about voice lessons for singing purposes, I'm talking about for speaking purposes, too. How to open up your wind passages, and bellow things out from the diaphragm, completely unobstructed. Partially because it would be more enjoyable for the listeners if we all had good, strong speaking and singing voices, and partially because it just feels so darn good to speak or sing with your whole body, instead of just with your mouth.

And wouldn't it be cool if in these voice lessons, we could also learn how to say the things that really need to be said? I guess that's called therapy. But if instead of learning how to effectively sing, "La la la la la," you could go to your voice lesson and learn how to powerfully say, "I need a peanut butter sandwich," or "If I don't get to a bathroom quickly, there is going to be an awful mess to deal with." You know. Important stuff.

Tee hee.

So I get to do a last minute gig tonight. One of my fellow Chicago female musicians has this show out in Glen Ellyn and her opening band had to cancel due to some emergency. I am quite flattered that she asked me to fill in. I'm sure she asked others, too, but that she thought of me in that group is amazing. And that I got to her first and ended up with the gig is that much cooler. Yay!

So I'll be skipping out of work early today to trek out to the burbs and play a little set for an entirely new audience. I hope people actually come out for it. I hope I don't get booed off the stage. I hope I remember how to play my songs this time. Wish me luck!

It's all about networking and dependability...