See, in a perfect world, it would have gone something like this:

Danish cartoons published making fun of Mohammed.

Muslim world: Um, hey, would you guys mind not making fun of our God?
Danes: Oh, crap, sorry. Didn't mean to be offensive.
Muslim world: It's all good. Just please don't do that again. We're kind of sensitive about that kind of thing. Especially with everything else that's going on in the world right now.
Danes: Completely understandable. Our bad. Sorry about that.

Rest of Europe publishes cartoons in name of free speech.

Muslim world: Hey now, we asked nicely for you to not make fun of our God.
Europe: But free speech, dude.
Muslim world: Free speech is all well and good, but we asked nicely. We're kind of sensitive about this kind of thing. And in all fairness, we're not making fun of your Gods.
Europe: True. Sorry. We'll stop.
Muslim world: Promise?
Europe: Yeah, we're all good. Sorry about that.
Muslim world: We're all good.

See? Not so hard. And no embassys had to get burnt down. I mean, even if the cartoons were originally intended to be an attack, they've been apologized for. And since when does free speech mean you can't listen to somebody else's point of view? I mean, really. As an American, I'm free to say whatever I want (theoretically). But if someone comes to me and says, "I was really hurt by what you said," I'll apologize for it because more often than not, I didn't know I offended anyone. I don't feel like that means I have to censor myself; it means I have empathy for others. So in the case of these cartoons, I think the "free speech" point has been made. I don't think that not publishing the cartoons again and/or saying "Sorry" to those who were offended will create a huge roadblock on the road to free speech or anything like that. I know it's more complicated than that. But think about it. The Middle Eastern countries who want to wipe other countries off the face of the Earth want to do so because of the way those other countries are treating them and have historically treated them, yes? More or less? So if we continue to antagonize those who don't think others have the right to exist, can we honestly expect them to ever acknowledge anyone else's right to exist? No! It's just going to piss them off more. As is evidenced in the embassy burning and whatnot that's going on now.

Pick your battles, people. A little concession on one side or the other does not mean weakness. It means a willingness to settle things peaceably. And/Or, it gives the one side another bargaining chip. "Well, we did give in on the cartoon issue, so maybe you will let these people live." That kind of thing.

I dunno. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I have no idea what I'm talking about. The whole situation is a lot more complex than one girl living thousands of miles away who is wrapped up in multiple theatrical productions and having a sort of melt down about her impending major life change can comprehend. It just seems like this whole thing is getting a lot bigger and bloodier than it really needs to be.

I'll stop now.

Dork moment: I got mentioned in Moby's journal. He got my username wrong, but that is my post he is refering to.

Those of you who know me will know of what sound I speak when I say I'm making that little "eee" squeal of delight sound right about now.

T-minus eight days and counting.

Eight days left at this job. Eight more stupidly early mornings. Eight more days of free tea. Eight more days of mind-numbing boredom.

I do want to point out that my internet usage will probably diminish significantly once I'm not here anymore. Until I find a good, inexpensive provider that I like and decide what I can afford and stuff, I'll probably have to go to the coffee shop down the street that has free wi-fi with purchase to surf. Not that big a deal -- I like that coffee shop. It just means I won't be sitting online all day waiting for something to happen. My internet usage will have to be much more planned out.

I just wanted to point that out to let you all know that I may post here less. Doesn't mean I don't still love you. I do love you. Very much. And I'll miss posting random things here willy-nilly in the middle of the day. I'll try my damndest to keep doing that. Hell, you all may not even notice. But if I'm not online as much as I used to be, it's because, well, I don't have the kind of access I once did. Sorry about that.

That being said, I'm starting to get excited about not being here anymore. I hope at least one of my contingency plans works out. I should start making some phone calls soon.

Oh! Real quick happy birthday my stepmother. Happy birthday! I'm so glad you are a part of our family.

And another quick happy birthday to the artistic director of my theater company. When I first met him, he scared the crap out of me. But as I've gotten to work with him more and more, I've really grown to love him. He's a wonderful person, an extraordinarily talented artist, and I'm honored to know him. Happy birthday!

I met him and he was perfect. Well, not perfect, but perfect for me. Intelligent. Nice to other people. He was the drummer in a band. He was just a smidge taller than me, and thin, but not skinny. Good shoulders. Good for resting my head on. He had really short hair, not Bic short, but you could tell he used clippers on it every other day or so to keep it short and neat. Black-rimmed glasses. Amazing smile. He was wearing a grey t-shirt and shorts (we'd have to talk about the shorts, but he still looked great). And he knew what he found when he met me. Instantly. He knew I was too good to pass up. He felt that same, wonderful electric thing that I did and he wasn't afraid of it. His touch made me feel safe. But he didn't rush in, either. He didn't blow off his friends or his responsibilities. He let me know he was interested, but he still did what he had to do. And we stole one kiss, one perfect kiss. One that I could feel in my toes. One that left us both wanting for more. He was perfect. He was...

...completely fictional. I dreamt the whole thing.

Oh well.

I think the Allergy Bug crawled into my nose last night to take up residence. He wrapped himself up in a nice, thick blanket of phlegm. I've been doing my best to sneeze him out this morning -- forty or fifty tries, at least -- but he's not going anywhere. Oh well.

And we get six more weeks of winter. Hooray. Thanks a lot, Phil.

Hi, Austria! Sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I kept thinking you were just another German. Sorry about that. You can hit me now.

*smack*

Ow.

It's okay. I deserved that.

But welcome! And please don't let my crappy hosting skills prevent you from coming back. I'm glad that you're here.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Happy February, everybody! You know what this means, don't you? Only eleven more work days for me. Fifteen actual days until I am officially unemployed. Terror alert was down at green until I said that, and then it jumped up to yellow. Breathe. In. Out. Better. Terror alert somewhere between green and yellow.

So I went to a rehearsal last night for the next mainstage show at my theater company, for which I will be in the booth, running sound and lights and projection type things. And sweet Jebus, that is the funniest thing I have seen in a really long time. I was squeaking through about 80% of it. Yes, some sketches are better than others (it's a sketch comedy show about love, sex, and relationships), but some of them are...sweet Jebus. So funny. NOT AT ALL APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN. I honestly almost think we should check IDs at the door to make sure people are 17 or older before they can enter the theater. But if you're into adult humor, oh my goodness, you're going to love this show. And I can say that because up to this point, I've had nothing to do with the show. It was all fresh and new to me last night, so I got to see it like you guys would if you were coming to the theater for the first time. Anyway, very funny. I'm looking forward to working on this one.

And I'm also thinking that once I no longer have this job, my life will have a lot more random dance breaks. Just a thought.

And the State of the Union address -- I haven't read the whole thing yet. After the 87th mention of terrorists, I had to navigate away. I accidentally recorded the whole thing last night (while, at the same time, chopping off the last ten seconds of Gilmore Girls, grumble, grumble), so technically, I could watch the thing if I wanted to. But the President frightens me when he speaks, and mostly just makes me want to cry. I thought reading his speech would make it more palpable. Only two more years, people. Only two more years...

Yeah, random dance breaks. I'll have to look into that.

Sweet Jebus, I missed my theater company!

Not the one in the 'burbs. I'm not a company member out there. But working out there really made me miss what a wonderful thing my theater company in the city is. I love the people. I love the scripts. I love the rehearsals. I went to one rehearsal last night for the next kid's show to go up there (I'm playing the puppet of a mummified cat). These people have been rehearsing for a week or two, so they all know each other and are familiar with the script and whatnot. I've only read the script on my own and for the most part, I didn't know who was playing what and so on and so forth and there were some unfamiliar faces. But I walked in and people chatted with me. And we sang. And we danced. And I got hugs and kisses from the people I do know there. I was allowed to ask questions and make jokes and express opinions. I was even encouraged to jump in on songs I didn't think I was going to have to sing. And they are really fun songs! The authors took "Holla Back Girl" by Gwen Stefani and turned it into "Heiroglyph Girl." No offense to Ms. Stefani, but I never liked "Holla Back Girl." Just not my thing. I LOVE "Heiroglyph Girl." How can you not geek out about a song that lets you get all tough and bitchy about heiroglyphs and papyrus? Come on! That's funny!

I feel good today. See? That is what theater is supposed to do for you. You're supposed to go to rehearsal and have fun and leave counting down the hours until you get to go back and do it again. Theater should not be a chore. Theater is a labor of love, whether or not you're getting paid for it.

So yeah, I missed my theater company. I love my theater company. Yes, we are a rinky-dink not-for-profit theater, but we put on some darn good shows. And we're a darn good group of people. I'm so proud to be a member there and I thank all of the other members of the group for inviting me join. One of the best decisions I have ever made.

Hello, person on a boat in the Atlantic Ocean!

At least I'm guessing that there is a person on a boat in the Atlantic Ocean reading this, because there is a little tic mark on that cute mappy thing that appeared today in the middle of the Atlantic, somewhere off the coast of Ghana or Gibon, depending on which direction you're coming from. Or going to. How odd. Now, not only have people on six continents checked in here, but someone in the ocean did, too.

Sweet.

Hi, and welcome!

So today we've got a terror alert color of orange. And by terror alert color, I mean my own personal terror of leaving my current job and thrusting myself completely unprepared into the world to survive however I can manage.

I know, I know, I'm being overly dramatic. But today is a scared day. Some days I feel great, and some days I'm scared out of my mind. Some days, I'm both.

I do have money saved up, so I'll be fine for a couple of months. And I have projects on the horizon to take me through April at least. And I have plans and contingency plans. And what's more is I have a lot of skills. I have every confidence that I will make the money I need to make in order to survive. To more than survive. It's just scary because it's an unknown. It's a break from the pattern I've developed over the past five and a half years. I mean, everything. I'm having to keep detailed records of all of my incomes and expenditures related to all things business related -- how many miles have I traveled in association with this gig in the 'burbs? How much money am I bringing in in tip jars at gigs? How many CDs do I sell? That kind of thing, so that when it comes time to pay my taxes next year, I can do so correctly. Man, is that going to be a pain in the butt.

What makes me feel good about the whole thing, though, is that I am, for the first time, doing what I want to do. I know a lot of people are envious of my decision to scrap the secure life in favor of following my dreams. It does sound really glamorous, doesn't it? I'm finding more and more people who wish they had taken that kind of chance at one point or another, but now find themselves tied to their families and their jobs and a certain lifestyle that they want to maintain and so on and so forth, so they continue to do what they have to do, instead of what they want to do. I'm not slighting that in any respect -- I've been doing what I have to do instead of what I want to do for a very long time. It takes a lot to be able to do the responsible thing. And yes, taking care of one's family comes first. I guess I'm just lucky that I don't have those responsibilities yet. That sounds funny, doesn't it? Especially considering my current openness to the possibility of a relationship. "I'm lucky I don't have anybody." That's not what I mean. I'm lucky that I can scrap the secure life and go out on a limb, even for a little while. Not everyone gets that opportunity, so I'm going to enjoy it as much as I possibly can.

Doesn't mean I'm not still scared. Thirteen more days in this office. Eep. That's not a lot of time.

I told my friend in Texas, though, that I'm looking forward to not having a job so I can have a career. Here's hoping it all pans out.

And I do want to say thank you to all of you guys for your support. Those of you emailing to suggest I sell t-shirts and stuff, saying you'd buy a Kitty mug to help out. I love you for that, thank you. And once my website is up and running, there will be a merchandise page so you can buy all kinds of fun Kitty items in the name of helping me pay my rent.

Interesting side effect of all of this: I'm losing weight. I will admit that I have started weighing myself again. I know, I know, not necessarily good for the spirit. But so far, it hasn't been too bad. I don't weigh myself every day -- maybe once a week. It's the day to day fluxuations that you can start to obsess over and that will take over your life. But I've been coming down about a pound a week, without really trying (I honestly think it's the crazy schedule I've been keeping). Slow, controlled weight loss like that, I think, is a good thing. It makes it easier to keep it off. And once I'm not working anymore, I can start working out at home on a regular basis. Get myself in really great shape. So how about that? Pushing thirty, following my dreams, in the greatest shape of my life. Sounds good to me.

(Doesn't mean I'm not still scared today.)

So I'm really not girlie. When I was little, I was, but I haven't been girlie since, maybe second grade? I don't wear a lot of make up. I prefer a hairstyle that doesn't require a lot of effort. I wear trousers intead of skirts. But there is one bit of girlieness that has carried over from my childhood. I like having my nails painted. I'm not talking about getting regular manicures; I'm talking about painting my own nails. I just like having them painted. I now have three different colors of vegan nail polish, and I did my nails in this great coffee brown last night. After I cut them all off. I know, I know, a lot of people think it's not worth doing your nails unless they are long and healthy and beautiful. Well, my nails are healthy, but I have to keep them short so I can play the guitar. And truth be told, I like the look of really short nails painted dark. Just look at Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. She looked awesome.

So anyway, yeah. I'm almost girlie because I like having short, painted nails.

And now I have to go switch my laundry. Have a lovely day.

Okay, so I'm thinking I need to stock up on blank video cassettes before the stores stop selling them all together. Or did they already stop? 'Cuz I could use a bunch more.

We already know that television is my friend. I'll admit that. And I would like to sing it's praises for a few minutes, if I may.

Tuesday night has to be the best all-around television night of the week, as far as I'm concerned, followed closely by Sunday. Sadly, I have commitments on both Tuesday nights and Sunday nights for the next couple of months, so I'll have to record stuff if I want to get to see it, hence the need for lots of blank video cassettes. But anyway.

Tuesday nights. Start off with Gilmore Girls. No, it's not as good as it once was, but it's still a darn good show. I like the fast dialogue. I like that mother and daughter keep each other sane. I like the quirky towns people. I like the random pop culture references that I only get half of the time and the random ancient cultural references that I get most of the time and know I'm a dork because I get them. And I love it that they eat nothing but junk food all the time. I love the world of Stars Hollow and will watch Gilmore Girls to the bitter end. Which hopefully won't be bitter.

Then we go over to House. I love House. Hugh Laurie not only deserved to win his Golden Globe, but he had the best acceptance speech ever. I love having a caustic lead character on prime time television. Yet he's still sympathtic and empathetic and he really loves what he does. And let's face it, he's nice to look at. As are his co-workers. But it is an interesting show that has me laughing out loud from time to time, and it makes me think about stuff, too. I like it. And I like it that it's not following typical story lines, like when House shot down the advances of his co-worker, and that he still gives her crap for that. I love it.

And then we have the new Tuesday night gem, Love Monkey. Maybe it's Tom Cavanaugh. Maybe it's the atypical voice over/real dialogue interactions. Maybe it's because it's about indie music and it features some really good indie musicians. Maybe it's just that it's called Love Monkey. I've only seen one episode (there have only been two), but I'm hooked. Really, give it a watch. It's another fast-paced dialogue show with some really talented actors and some really funny bits.

My other weekday indulgence is My Name is Earl on Thursdays. If you've not yet watched this show, cancel your plans for next Thursday night and camp out in front of your television at 8:00 pm CST. Jason Lee is brilliant. Ethan Suplee is brilliant. The writing is brilliant. The acting is brilliant. And the stories are so frickin' funny. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love this show. Just watch it. Find a friend who has Tivoed every episode and watch them one Saturday afternoon as a marathon. You will not regret the time spent watching My Name is Earl. And then go out and find a friend who you can call Crabman. Everyone needs a Crabman in their life.

Which brings us to Sunday. Simpsons. 'Nuff said. Family Guy. 'Nuff said. Grey's Anatomy...okay, I'll admit that I started watching it for Sandra Oh and Patrick Dempsey (Sandra Oh because the only other thing I'd seen her in was "Sideways" and I wanted to see more of her, and Patrick Dempsey because he looks like an ex-boyfriend of mine who was, well, really hot and very talented and very sweet -- Dr. McDreamy is a very appropriate name for his character), but I've stayed watching it because it's another really quality show. Good, three dimensional characters. Real emotions. Great chemistry between Meredith and Shepard. And George is just so darn sweet.

And then on PBS on Sunday nights, they do the BBC thing, so I can watch the original "The Office" (I love Tim) and "Coupling."

So really, with all that excellent programming on the major networks, who really needs cable? I'd never leave my house.

Okay, I'm, um, going to go buy more pleather pants for when I'm a rockstar. And then I'm going to get my groupies together for a raging party and I'm going to get piss drunk and wake up in a dumpster. Yeah.

(Just trying to shake some of the dork off of me. It's not attractive, I know.)

The nice thing about coming home from a long day at midnight is that there is no traffic on Lawrence Avenue.

Good bye, Chris Penn.

You will be horribly missed.

When I was in college, one of my professors (well, actually two of them) left just before my last year and went on to become the head of the acting department at another university that is really well known for it's theater department (well, just one of them went there, the other guy went elsewhere). And after he left, we heard from him and he compared us to his acting students at this really prestigious university. Keep in mind, the theater department where I went to school had a light board from 1973, and a stage floor so full of pits and holes that sometimes high heels would get caught on the stage. We put on some good shows, but we weren't a big, flashy theater. And this former professor's basic comment was that the kids at the prestigious university were able to get by with okay performances because the other elements of the theater were so amazing -- the lights, the sets, the costumes. But we who had so little had to rely on our performances to sell a show. I took that to mean that he had a lot of confidence in us as actors, and felt like he had taught a really strong group of performers when he was at my university.

I think that applies to other areas of life, too. If you're there because you want to be there, regardless of your resources, you will do the best you can with what you have.

Or at least I will.

I blame my education.

And my upbringing.

And chocolate. You'll go very far if you pay people in chocolate.

I'm just warning you, I may post several very random entries today because I think my brain is in official melt-down mode. I've had songs about nuns and old, unpleasant conversations running through my head nonstop for about two weeks now and it kind of wears on the brain, so it's not really working.

I love WXRT because they are the only radio station in the world that will play Dueling Banjos at 8:30 in the morning just because. It starts out as a joke, but they still let the whole song play. They are one of those radio stations that still plays the songs you really only hear in car commercials now. So when the song starts, you expect Mr. Great Radio Voice man to tell you about the super low financing deals they have going on right now, but he doesn't and instead you get to enjoy the song and the memories of your youth that it brings up. I love that about WXRT.

But anyway, the first random (I guess now the third) thing I wanted to say today is I love it when Moby is in New York City for extended periods of time because his journal entries get more and more entertaining. He thinks they get really mundane, but they start to smack of somebody who hasn't left the house for four days and really just needs some outside human contact, so he starts making things up and posting them and really, he has a great sense of humor, so (at least to me), they come out really funny and not at all mundane. I'm not trying to insinuate that he's a shut-in or anti-social or anything like that -- far from it. I'm pretty darn sure he has a healthy, active social life. I just really like it when he starts posting conversations he has with Neil Diamond songs and tidbits about helicopters and things. Those posts make me smile. And it's good to smile. I've not been smiling anywhere near enough lately.

It smells like the SweetTart factory exploded in my hallway.

I guess one of the things I'm going to have to get used to as I lauch myself into the creative world, is that not every gig, not every show, not every person I meet is going to be perfect or nice or well organized. The artistic world just doesn't work that way. Hell, the world just doesn't work that way.

I just heard on the radio that today is, mathematically speaking, the most depressing day of the year. Hang in there, kids. We've only got fifteen hours and twenty minutes until it's over and it's all uphill from there.

Anyway, not everything is going to be peachy. But in the name of making a living, I'm going to have to suck it up. A lot. In the name of a paycheck. How sad is that?

On the other hand, the good thing about most artistic gigs is that they don't last very long. And eight week theatrical run. One night at some venue. So if I run into a raving lunatic or flaming asshole, I only have to put up with said person for a couple of months. Versus the years of unhappiness I've spent at my day job. So it's not all bad.

That being said, I am finding some fun and interesting ways of venting my frustrations with not-so-wonderful people and in turn, a lot of good and fun and laughter is coming out of it. I went to the batting cages. I wrote a really fantastically angry song yesterday that I'm kind of proud of. So it's not all bad. If I put up with these annoyances for a brief time, I get a paycheck, some exercise, and some creative fodder out of it. I guess that's a fair trade.

Hang in there, kids. Today is going to be rough. But tomorrow will be better. And the day after that. And the day after that. I promise.

(I would like to take a brief moment to point out that out of all of the artistic endeavors I've undertaken thus far, the good, friendly, happy, wonderful people far out number the annoying ones, and for that I am thankful. I've met a lot of really cool people who I am so privileged to know and I want to say a quick thank you to them for, you know, being cool. Being real, decent human beings. You make our line of work so much more fun than it already is and you remind me that I really am one of the lucky ones that I get to do this. Thanks for that.)

My whole body hurts. Especially the heels of my hands. We went to the batting cages last night 'cuz I wanted to blow off some steam and because let's face it, I miss baseball. I miss baseball so much, I'm more excited about the day Cubs tickets go on sale than I am about my last day of work. And man, did it feel good to swing a bat. I made some pretty good contact, too. The medium pitch softballs were the best, I think. I tried medium pitch baseballs and they were a little too fast for my blood, and either type of ball done slow pitch just didn't have enough momentum to make it over the plate anywhere near the strike zone, so for those I was more golfing than batting. But the butt of the bat kept hitting the heels of my hands as I would follow through and I'm sore today. My torso is sore, too -- it's not used to the twisting motion. My arms, too. And to some extent my butt, but I'm not sure why on that one. Maybe the squatting for the batting stance? I dunno. Anyway, it felt really good to swing a bat again. *sigh* One month and three days until Cubs tickets go on sale...

Oh! I almost forgot. Yesterday, my last car payment was taken automatically from my bank account, so I now officially own my car and I am not officially out of debt.

Yay!

It was a long road to get here, don't get me wrong. And it took a lot of help from a few people, and I thank them for that lots and lots and lots. But it's done. I'm out of debt.

Yay!

So for the most part, daytime television is really...dull. Or overly dramatic. Like the 8,000,000 paternity test results that they share on certain shows.

I would like to pause a moment here, get up on my high horse, and say that if you have to test 25 guys to find out who the father of your child is, I think there is a deeper problem that has to be dealt with, too. That aside.

There was one guy on today who just about melted me. He was there to find out if if the 11 month old baby he is completely in love with is his or not, and before the results were read, he promised the mother that he would continue to be there for her and for the child, regardless of whether or not the kid was his. As it turned out, he is not the father. He got up and ran backstage, saying, "Just give me a minute." As soon as he was backstage, he asked where the kid was and said, "Can I just hold him for a minute?" They brought the baby out, and both baby and emotional daddy just lit up the room with their smiles. He hugged that kid so tight and kissed him, and insisted that he is the kid's father, regardless of what the test says. I just about melted. You so often see guys on those shows who can't wait to prove they are not the father so they don't have to take responsibilty. Or when they find out they aren't the father of a child they loved so much, they all of a sudden question their own feelings for the kid. But to see this guy still in love with that baby, still wanting to take care of him and raise him and be his father even if there is not a biological tie...that's impressive. And something I'm really glad I got to see today. I needed a little restoration of faith in humanity today.

I think I'm a pretty easy person to figure out. Granted, I may be biased as I know the whole story, but I still think I'm a pretty easy person to figure out for one big reason. I say what I mean and I mean what I say.

I'm going to jump back to the introvert thing for a minute. Introverts think before they speak. Which means that before I say anything, I've thought about it and I choose my words very carefully to make sure that the words I am using are the most appropriate ones I have at my disposal to describe the situation or express my idea/thought/opinion. Which makes me easy to figure out because it means that all you have to do is listen to what I say. The actual words. Not the words you expect to come out of my mouth in a given situation, but the actual words that actually come out of my mouth. Listen to and process those and bam! I'm easy to figure out.

I kind of hate to be so stuck on the introvert thing, because the more people I tell that I am an introvert, the more I'm seeing that look of, "Oh, shit, what am I dealing with now?" on people's faces. I think people still think introverts are shy and depressed and have no self-esteem and hate people and blah blah blah (hell, I did until a couple weeks ago). I kind of want to make it my mission to make sure that people understand what I mean when I use the word introvert. In the simplest terms I can think of, introverts think before they speak whereas extroverts think while they speak. But again, that's over simplifying things and there are nuances and so on and so forth, and of course, you can't really make generalizations about any segment of the population because there will always be an exception. So at the very least, let me set this part straight: I don't hate people. I'm not depressed (currently). I'm not lacking for self-esteem. I'm not shy. And when you see me sitting off to the side of a room, I'm not being snobbish or self-pitying, I'm thinking. I'm observing. I'm actually having quite a good time. Anyway.

The one thing that is really starting to bug me about being an introvert (maybe not "starting to" because it has bothered me for a while, but it's more present just now) is that other people assume I'm just like them. That my mind works the same way. That my thought processes are the same. They're not. I've known that for years -- it goes way back to my whole "my perception of me versus everyone else's perceptions of me" thing. It bothers me that people think I'm something other than I am before they have a chance to get to know me. It bothers me that people think I have some hidden agenda when I speak. It bothers me that people interpret my speech to mean things other than it does. My brain doesn't work the same way. I gave up hiding things a LONG time ago. I don't lie. I don't try to manipulate people into doing things I want them to do. I'm not that kind of person.

I know there are a lot of people out there like that, introverts and extroverts, men and women, old people, young people, people of every race. I would just like to state right here and now that I'm not one of them. You can take my words at face value. I've put a lot of thought into them and I'm willing to stand by them meaning what they mean.

Unless, of course, I'm being sarcastic, but I usually make my sarcasm pretty obvious.

Two gig rejections this year already. w00t. One of them from a group that specifically organizes shows featuring women playing guitars. And I didn't make the cut. How sad is that?

On the up side, there is a particular sandwich shop that features live music and a branch/franchise of this particular sandwich shop is opening up right around the corner from my house. Hopefully I'll be able to play there a time or two.

I'm feeling lately like things are coming together. I don't know if I'm being really naive or stupidly optimistic, or maybe I'm just on the upswing of my monthly emotional cycle, but I'm starting to get the feeling that I'll be okay. I will keep busy. I will make enough money to keep my apartment and keep food on my table.

Knock on wood.

Fritos and hot tea. Not necessarily bad, but not necessarily good.

So yeah, Hugh Laurie had the best acceptance speech EVER at the Golden Globes last night. And that's about all I have to say about that.

Kiwi is kind of an odd fruit with which to make scones. Not bad, mind you, just odd.

Four and a half weeks left at this job. I gotta find an internet provider for my home. Which, if I get a good one, I can do that internet phone thing, right? Which all translates into, "I have some research to do."

I feel really bad about having to take paying gigs instead of fun gigs. My theater company is not one whereat I'm going to earn any money, unless I start the children's tour thing and it takes off. But I love my theater company and I want to be involved with them. But how much time do I pour into artistic endeavors for which I'm not getting paid anymore, when I really do need that time to make money? Be it doing other artistic things or just plain working? I don't like this.

It's still kind of warm outside, at least for January (knock on wood). I'm kind of afraid that it's all going to go away soon and I'll have to drive out to the suburbs in 3 feet of snow. That would suck.

Yeah, that's about all I got. Sorry I'm so disjointed. It'll all be over soon, I promise.

Hey.

So Friday night's gig was kind of an adventure. I don't think anyone in the audience (except my friends, really) knew what was going on, so that's good. But I went home feeling pretty crappy. I did walk away with a little bit of money, and an offer to play the venue again, which I will probably do. But I guess after years of really good gigs going really well, it was about time I had one with some drama backstage.

It's all good, though. And I do want to thank the venue and the owner and the bartender for having me out there, and to the audience members who stayed late enough to see me actually play. I had a lot of fun playing and I think it was a pretty good set. And it's hard to not enjoy a set by Third Wheel. Thank you to all of the other musicians, too. It really was a night of great music.

So yeah, not at work today because it is Dr. Martin Luther Kng, Jr. day. A great man who did amazing things for this country. And in celebration of everything he did for this country, I'm going to sit in my house and work on things for the play I'm doing out in the 'burbs. Makes sense, huh?

And the Golden Globes are on tonight. Some day, I will actually get to go to them. For now, I'm just going to watch them on TV. As much as I hate to admit it, I love big award shows.

Hi.

So I was going to say something about "at least it's not snowing," but it's supposed to snow later. I've been enjoying the warmer weather this January -- it's a nice change from the arctic December we had. But it's been really gloomy. Cloudy. Drizzly. Gray. I'm not one of those people who gets depressed by a lack of sunlight, but seeing the sun once a week might be nice. The sun came up about 7:15 this morning (I think), and you can't really tell.

I have a gig tonight, too. A Friday the thirteenth gig, which is somehow appropriate as Friday the thirteenth used to be a day when wise women would gather and celebrate. So I get to go play music for people. I hope a lot of people show up. I could use a well attended show to get me going again. In other words, don't be scared by the weather! Come see some live music anyway!

Yeah, that's about all I got. I should have brought breakfast to work with me. I'm hungry.

So I've not had an alcoholic drink in almost two weeks. New Years Eve was the last time. And I was thinking of going a year without alcohol to see if I could do it, but I'm thinking this might not be the best year to do so. You know why? My car will be paid off in one week. I have one more payment to make, and it will be made next Thursday. That's cause for celebration. I will be completely out of debt and I will be a car owner. I'll get my title in the mail and I'll be able to use that title to get short term loans with outrageous interest rates if I ever need to. That feels like a champagne moment to me.

Then again, I don't know. It's been kind of nice not drinking. Or maybe I just need to find a middle ground. It is cheaper to not drink, unless you have what's on special. And it's better for one's physique to not drink, but one glass of red wine a day can be good for your heart.

We'll see. For now, I'm not drinking. But I don't think I'll get too angry with myself if I have one this year. I'm not an alcoholic; I'm not trying to beat an addiction. I'm just challenging myself to do something...unusual.

Wow. That was a fascinating entry, wasn't it? Sorry about that. How about this?

I think the next season of Beauty and the Geek should feature really hot really stupid men and really dorky highly intelligent women. And I'd like to audition for that show.

Nevermind. It's back.

Hello, friends! So good to see you.

The little mappy thing seems to be having problems. I don't know exactly what the problems are, but I hope they are fixed soon. I miss being able to look at all the little markers all over the world and saying hi to all of my friends, whether we've met or not.

I danced last night. I've not danced since Labor Day weekend. Not lindy hop, anyway. But somehow, I felt like dancing last night, so I went and oh, it was wonderful. I was afraid I wouldn't know anyone there, but when I walked in, my favorite Chicago dancer walked in right behind me. I got four great dances with him and remembered why I used to do this six nights a week. So much fun! A lot of the time I felt totally lost, but one of the things I love about this particular dancer is that even though he's probably the best Chicago has to offer, he tells me in the middle of dances that he doesn't know what he's doing; he's making it all up. Our last dance ended with a forward dip, which made me shreik. I totally trust him not to drop me; that's not the issue. But he had me in kind of a cradle position and put his foot in front of mine and dipped me forward across his body, so I kind of felt like I was going to face plant into the tables. But I didn't. I shreiked and laughed and had a wonderful time. So thank you to my favorite Chicago dancer for that. I've missed you.

And I missed my bartender friend. And I missed dancing really great songs with newbies who look absolutely petrified. I missed the movement. I missed using my hips. I missed goofing off on the dance floor. All of the political bullshit that used to come with all of that, I did not and do not miss. But I do miss the dancing. I think I might have to start doing that regularly again, if I can.

On a totally unrelated note, I've not been sleeping much lately. I didn't sleep at all on Sunday night, so I stayed home yesterday to try to rest, but that didn't happen. I wrote a sort of funk song instead, that as egotistical as it sounds, I can't stop listening to. How distasteful is that? It's kinda dirty, and I'm not sure that I like what I did with the vocals (effects-wise), but it's fun to have an electric funk song in my catalog. It's totally one that I can see ending concerts with, and having just a bunch of amazing musicians with me jamming out after the song should be done and I introduce who they all are and they take their solos and the crowd goes crazy and we end with one last "chorus" and the crowd erupts and goes home totally satisfied, feeling like they got to see something nobody else has ever seen before. So in addition to great musicians who are okay with playing my songs, I also need to find some who can jam. I'm so not a jam artist, but I just wrote a jam song. How weird is that? I blame Mike Doughty; I've been listening to him too much lately.

Kidding! I love Mike Doughty. He's a wonderful human being (near as I can tell) and a fantastically talented musician. You can never listen to too much Mike Doughty.

Anyway, yeah. No sleep. Lots of dancing. Lots of music. And no desire to do any sort of actual work. Sounds about status quo to me.

So, the question is, do I walk the two miles with my Christmas tree to the recycling place, or do I try (probably unsuccessfully) to attach it to the roof of my car?

And hello and welcome to Russia!

Yes! That's it! I'm an introvert! That's it right on the nose! Thank you to "little, yellow, different" for posting this link in her blog. I, like she (or is it her?), am annoyed that I didn't find this article sooner, but thank you to her for pointing it out.

"I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I like you. But now please shush." I think that's going to become a very useful phrase for me in the future.

Introverts unite! In your own homes, of course.

"'Tis far, far better to have Lou Rawls and not need him than to need Lou Rawls and not have him."

Good bye, Mr. Rawls. You will be sorely missed.

There is something inherently wrong with not only waking up, but getting to work before the sun comes up.

I have a confession to make: I like television. There are specific shows that I particularly love and try to be home so that I can watch them on a weekly basis (Gilmore Girls, My Name is Earl, The Simpsons, House, Grey's Anatomy, Family Guy (wow, that makes it look like I spend a lot of time watching TV. Though it only adds up to four and a half hours a week. Though if there are 168 hours in a week, I only spend about two and a half percent of my time watching television. That still seems like a lot. I do want to point out that if I miss one of these shows, it's not the end of the world. In fact, I'm missing out on all of my weekday television this week because of rehearsals and I forgot to set up my VCR to record Earl today. Oh well)), but I will also admit that I sometimes just have the TV on in the background for noise while I do other things. Sometimes, it's the radio, sometimes the TV. I know, I know, it's a waste of electricity. But I don't turn on my lights very much. I actually like having a dark apartment. And I don't know how many of you live alone, but the sound of an empty apartment can drive you nuts if you go too long without...something. Phone calls, background noise, whatever. Anyway. I know it's not cool anymore to enjoy television and if I was truly the bohemian hippy I like people to believe I am, I wouldn't even own a television. But I do. And it is my friend. And I love it.

Which brings me to today's topic: within the next couple of years, there are no longer going to be free television waves floating through the air like there are now. Well, there will still be free TV, but it will all be broadcast in HD, and if you don't have an HD friendly television set, you'll be screwed. I know they are setting up programs to help provide HD friendly sets to people who wouldn't otherwise be able to afford them, but I somehow doubt that Generation X Starving Artist is on the list of people they intend to help out. I'm guessing most of that assistance will go to nursing homes and such; people who can't do much but watch television, but don't have the $3000 to fork over on a flat screen HD ready set.

So I'm going to rant for a minute, and please pardon me if it sounds particularly neo-luddite, but what's so great about HD anyway? I know, I know, sharper picture. But you know what? The human eye can't really detect the difference between 5 megapixels and 8 megapixels. To me, when you get into the really super-defined images, they start to look fake because they are more defined than the human eye can handle. It's like the printers that can print 8 billion colors, when we can only really register 100,000 (or whatever the numbers are - I think you get my point). Whenever I see, say, a football game on a high definition television, I get lost and dizzy, especially during a running play. There's too much going on that is so over-defined that none of it makes sense to me anymore and it just ends up giving me a headache.

It's like POV video games -- they just make me dizzy.

I know, I know, I'm so low-tech. But you know what? I've done just fine watching television in regular definition for my whole life. Even low definition when there's a storm happening and the reception goes out. Why do I need to see every pore on Hugh Laurie's face? To me, he's just as attractive with mini bug races happening across the screen.

And up until now (and for the next couple of years), it hasn't been an issue. I can be a neo-luddite if I want to be and continue to watch television with rabbit ears. But soon, I won't be able to. And if I want to be able to still check in on my friends on the telly, I'm going to be forced to buy an HD friendly television set. Not to sound overly dramatic, but for a starving artist, it could mean two or three years of saving up to be able to afford one, so technically, it's something I have to start thinking about now. And even then, when I have $3000 saved up, I'm spending it on a Taylor guitar, not a new TV. Girl's gotta have her priorities, you understand.

I dunno. I'm irked by it. I'm irked by the whole situation, forcing me to be technological. I like some technology -- the interweb, my new cell phone, digital cameras -- but I don't like being forced to participate in it. Being forced to purchase something better than what I have. Am I alone in this? Should I just get over it and say, "Hello, 21st Century. How's the wife and kids?"

2006: the year I embrace my fogeyness.

And a very happy anniversary to my Texas friend and her husband.

*smooch*

Hello, Canada! Our neighbors to the north, how I have neglected you. I've not been paying as much to the North Americans who read my site because, well, there's so many of them. I admit, I'm too lazy to list all of the states and/or cities that show up on the United States map, so I hadn't been paying that much attention and I totally missed it when Canada showed up. My apologies. Please forgive me. Welcome. I love it that you're here.

And hello also to Pakistan. How's life looking over there? It's cold and drizzly here. Not as cold as January sometimes gets in Chicago, but still cold enough that you need a coat and can sometimes see your breath when you're walking outside.

So random: I saw a car fire last night. I was driving out to the suburbs to go to rehearsal (and I stopped in the mall for a really big sale that was bigger than I thought in terms of the amount of people who were there but smaller than I thought in terms of the actual savings, so I left empty-handed but with a firm resolve to not go back to a mall anytime soon) and I saw a car on fire on the road just ahead of me. We're talking black billowing smoke filling the sky, flames probably ten feet high kind of fire. I didn't get all that close to it, as my car was running out of gas and there was an exit just before the fire so I got off the expressway. But I did go over the expressway just near the fire. By the time I got there (five minutes later?) it looked like the fire was mostly out, so that's a good thing. But it was really strange. You hear about car fires on the news messing up traffic, but you seldom actually get to see one. It was surreal. I couldn't fathom being in that car. I couldn't fathom trying to put it out. I couldn't fathom being the car just in front of or just behind the one that burst into flame. I couldn't fathom being the car that caused the one to burst into flame. I didn't see the accident, so I don't know what happened. I don't know how many people were injured. I hope the damage didn't extend much farther than the car itself.

So it's really starting to hit me that I only have about six weeks left at this job. I couldn't sleep last night because of it. Yes, I have some money squirreled away. Yes, I have a million ideas of how I can make a living without this job. No, my family will not let me starve. But it's even just the routine of it. When you've been doing something for five and a half years, it's really strange to think of not doing that thing anymore. No more waking up before the sun to come into an office where I have to pretend to be busy for eight hours a day. No more pretending I know what they're talking about in these meetings. No more coming back from a long break to a roach infested office. No more counting down until the sixteenth when my paycheck comes in. It's going to be strange. And to be perfectly honest, I'm scared out of my mind.

I know it was the right decision. I know I'll be fine. But until I am fine, until I am making a living doing something else, it's going to scare me because it is a giant unknown. I'm going to continue to have bad dreams. I'm going to continue to have problems falling asleep at night. I'm going to continue to fret. I hate to say it, but I think it's normal to be afraid of such a huge change in one's life. I know I won't be afraid forever; just until I'm actually done here. So about another six weeks.

I'm also thinking I should start keeping track of how many entries I start with "so."

I love rain.

I cleaned out my apartment today, too. Or "cleaned up" is maybe a better term. I put a lot of things away so I feel less cluttered. It feels good to feel less cluttered.

And hi, Sweden! Venezuela has now been knocked off of the map. There have been 100 people who clicked on my site since Venezuela first appeared. That wasn't that long ago.

I swear I'll stop talking about this soon. It just kind of weirds me out, you know? That so many people visit my little site. I think it's cool as hell, but it's a little strange. Anyway. Please keep visiting. Please keep reading.

Okay, I'm going to stop being so scattered now. I'm going to try to get some other important things done.

Happy New Year, kids.

So last night. Not one of my proudest moments. But hey, I got to kiss a cute boy, so it wasn't a total loss. I think I also left my scarf at the theater. Fortunately, it was my theater, so I can very easily go back and pick it up. I'm pretty sure I know exactly where in the theater it is, too. And a really quick "thank you and I'm sorry" to the cute boy who spent part of the evening sitting with me and my best friend, the garbage can. I'm pretty sure I wasn't much fun at that point, but thank you for sitting with me anyway.

And I know the best way to keep a resolution is to not make one, so I'm not making resolutions, but I am thinking about a few things. Like, could I go a year without drinking alcohol? If I am going to spend some time this year trying to find a significant other, would this be a bad year to try to go without drinking? I think this year might be a good year for me to try getting an agent again. Which may mean new headshots, so it might be a little while before I can do that one, but I'll put it on my list for this year.

So thus far we have:
- No drinking
- Find a boyfriend
- Get an agent

And of course:
- Continue making music
- Keep acting/writing/doing general theater kinds of things
- Drink lots of tea

Speaking of which, I think it's time to make my first cup of tea of the new year. I think it will be my green and white blend. Today is kind of about decadence, but very, I dunno, humble decadence. I stayed in bed until about 2. Read part of the Teany book. Napped with my cat (I just got a new cell phone that can take pictures and thus far, I've only taken pictures of my cat). I think I'll drink some tea and maybe have some tomato soup. And I'm not leaving my house or dressing nicely or even bothering with contact lenses today. Humble decadence, if that makes any sense. I gotta find something better to watch than football, though.

Happy new year, kids.

So I thought about writing a long, blithery entry about all of the things I've done in the last year and how much I've grown and what I want to accomplish in the next year and so on and so forth, but then I thought better of it. If you want to know most of that stuff, you can go back and read the archives. But I will say this:

I like where I am in my life right now. I'm scared about what the next year will bring, mostly from a financial perspective, but I know that things always work themselves out one way or another. I like my apartment. I'm glad I'm still in my little neighborhood. I have some really wonderful friends and a beautiful family that I am beyond grateful for. I have a lot still to do and it's going to be tough, but I'm not the sort to back away from a challenge. So wish me luck!

And I wish you all luck in the new year, too. I wish you happiness and health and cake. No matter what anyone says, cake is good for you. And no matter what you happen to have planned for this evening, please be safe. Nobody has anything that they have to do tomorrow, so if you need to crash somewhere and go ahead and crash. A little embarrassment is much easier to deal with than a potentially fatal car accident.

Happy new year!

Hello, Oman and Egypt (is that you, Mr. Doughty?)! We now officially have Africa, without the Saudi Penninsula location debate, we have Africa. So people on six different continents have stopped by to read the blitherings I put up here on a daily basis. Thanks, guys! I'm a little overwhelmed, but mostly I just think it's really cool that y'all come buy to visit. I hope you enjoy your stay.

And speaking of Mr. Doughty, I'm really wishing I could talk to him for a minute, so I'm going to post this in here. If he ever reads it, I don't know what he'll think. I don't think he'll probably even ever read it, but I'm going to post it anyway.

For those of you who don't know, I'm talking about Mike Doughty who is an amazing musician and from what I can tell, a pretty cool person, too. He used to be the lead singer of Soul Coughing and when they broke up he did the solo thing for a while and then recently signed on to Dave Matthew's label and released "Haughty Melodic," which I voted for in the WXRT listner poll as being one of the best albums of 2005. It really is fantastic and I would very much recommend you go pick up a copy if you don't already have one. There's only one song on the whole album that I'm not crazy in love with. Some of them make you want to dance, some of them have amazing harmonies tha I get to sing along with, and the last song on the album is really sweet and touching. So yeah, if you don't have it yet, please go get it. It really is fantastic.

Mr. Doughty also keeps a journal on his website and I've read it and while not quite Moby calibur (have to keep my obsessions straight, here. tee hee), it is pretty good. He posts a lot of interesting photographs, which is fun. One time, he ganked some concert photos from a guy I did a film with. As in, a guy I made a movie with went to a Mike Doughty concert and took some photos, posted them online, Mr. Doughty found them (or was sent a link) and posted them on his own website, crediting the guy I know, of course. Sort of a cyber two-degrees-of-separation. Man, I'm a dork when I first wake up in the morning. Sorry.

Anyway, there are several entries wherein Mr. Doughty talks about his growing dislike of Soul Coughing music. Like he looks down on fans who come up to him now and tell him how much they loved those tunes. He says when he listens to them, all he can hear is how he should have made them differently. That bothers me quite a bit, so I'm going to get up on my high horse for just a brief moment.

Hi, Mr. Doughty. I have recently become quite a big fan of yours. I think the music you make is amazing and interesting and poignant and fun. I haven't been able to stop listening to your records as of late. I'm so happy for you that you feel like "Haughty Melodic" is the record you have always wanted to make, the record that you have spent your whole career trying to make. That's wonderful that you made that and I agree with you; it is an amazing record. I'm not too keen on "Tremendous Brunettes," but the rest of it is so beautiful.

It saddens me, though, that not only do you not feel a connection with your older works anymore, but you seem to look down on fans who do. I know that when you made those records, you were a different person with different things going on in your life and it is fine to want to distance yourself from that time and place. But at least for me, Soul Coughing songs remind me of my engagment. Crazy as it was, I look back on that whole thing very fondly. And another Soul Coughing song reminds me of my first love and how oddly he danced. I can't help but smile when I hear it. I love that those songs bring back those memories, and because they do, the songs mean just as much to me as the memories do. So it kind of hurts when you talk about how awful "Disseminated" is -- that is probably my favorite. It makes me want to put together a huge lindy/hip hop fusion dance because it has so many layers and so many styles all wrapped up in one song. It's brilliant. But when you say it's awful, that makes me feel dumb for liking it.

It's kind of like when Cat Stevens became Yusif Islam and took back every song he ever wrote, saying he didn't mean any of it. I was heartbroken. We used to sing the songs from Harold and Maude on school bus trips, and they always reminded us that there is some beauty somewhere. They reminded me that as ugly and depressed as I felt, I still had the potential to be something else. "If you want to sing out, sing out." Made it not matter that my brother didn't think I could sing; I was going to sing anyway. These were the anthems that got me through my depression and encouraged me to keep living and then the author comes out and says he didn't mean any of them? Did that mean people really didn't like it when I sang out? That my voice wasn't valid? Sure felt like it.

I came to peace with the Cat Stevens thing. I am determined to believe that when he wrote those songs he meant them, at least a little bit. Or that he knew what kind of music people wanted or needed to hear and he wrote it for them. I know what those songs mean to me and while it still hurts that they don't mean anything to him, I am going to hold on to my love for that music.

Same thing with your older stuff, Mr. Doughty. I'm sorry if it pains you to hear that "Soft Serve" or "Bus to Beelzebub" or "Circles" or "Disseminiated" are amazing songs that mean a lot to me. But they are. I hope that one day, you can at least appreciate the fact that you touched people with those songs, even if the songs weren't what you wanted them to be. I think it is evident in the number of Rockity Roll robot tattoos you've encountered that I'm not the only one who thinks your catalog is great. Please let us continue to enjoy your music, all of it. Because you know we will anyway.

Okay, I'm done now.

Oh, and as long as we're putting things out into the universe in the hopes that they come true, a new Taylor acoustic electric guitar would be fabulous. Or the three thousand dollars to buy one. Either or. I'm not picky.

Thanks!

So even my mother can tell that I'm ready to date someone. Someone amazing. She's picturing Luke from Gilmore Girls. Not that I have anything against Luke, but I'm kind of crushing on Dean right now. Not the actor that plays Dean, mind you, but the character of Dean. Such a prince charming. Calling Rory by her full name, but only when it's sexy. Going to a dance he doesn't want to go to because he knows she wants to. *sigh*

I got this new assistant director position for a show out in the suburbs and already everyone I've met who is involved in the show is married. I know there are great men out there. My mother and I are convinced I'm going to find one someday. I just hope he's not married when I do.

Hi, Germany.

For the record, I am not going to get anything important accomplished over my "winter vacation" (aka, week off of work), because my brother, lovely human being that he is, gave me the first season of Gilmore Girls on DVD. Granted, I asked for it. Literally. But I don't think he knew I would spend entire days camped out in front of my television watching the Gilmores and all of their adventures and such. Watching Gilmore Girls, drinking tea (thanks to my lovely Texas friend -- thank you! It's delicious!), eating cake and Chex Mix (homemade vegan version by my dad) and Russian tea cakes (also vegan, also made by my dad). I'm going to gain 8,000,000 pounds because you can't watch Gilmore Girls without eating something. They eat so much strange stuff on the show that if you don't eat while you're watching it, you feel like you're only getting half of the show. So I'm sitting here, eating and watching Gilmore Girls and gaining 8,000,000 pounds in the process, all thanks to my lovely brother.

Thank you, lovely brother.

Much love,
Your whale of a sister

Hey.

So how was it? Did y'all have fun? Did ya get a lot of good stuff?

I had a lovely holiday. It's nice to not go into the holidays resenting them; it makes getting through the whole thing that much easier, and that much more enjoyable. I really did have fun. And I got some really nice things that I wanted, a couple that I didn't really, and one that was about eight years too late, but all in all, I think it was a good year. My family and friends seemed to like the gifts I got for them, too. So yeah. I may try this "not hating Christmas" thing again next year.

Okay, gotta run. Have a lovely day!

Hi, Portugal and Saudi Arabia! Welcome to the party!

Hi.

So I'm not sure how much time I'm going to be spending on the interweb in the next week or so because I won't be at work. I do have access at home, it's just a matter of how much time am I going to want to spend online versus how much time am I going to want to spend, I dunno, with friends and family and cleaning my house and all that stuff. So in the spirit of being non-technological, I'm going to talk for a minute about Christmas today.

Yup, I said the "c" word. Christmas.

I grew up celebrating Christmas. I still celebrate Christmas, whether or not I buy into the religion that invented the holiday. It is, for the most part, a very nice time of year, and I have so many traditions surrounding the holiday that I just wouldn't feel right not celebrating Christmas. I apologize if that offends anyone. That is not my intent. I'm sure you have your own traditions surrounding Ramadan or Hannukah or the solstice or Kwanzaa or whatever holiday you choose to celebrate, and I hope you have a really nice time participating in those traditions.

One of the things that I really like about Christmas is that it is a time of year to be nice to each other. To put other crap aside and let your family and friends know that you love them. It's kind of sad that we need a yearly reminder to tell our family and friends that we love them, but we do. We get busy with all kinds of other crap and the simple act of being nice to each other escapes us. So I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you. Thank you guys for visiting my site on whatever sort of schedule you do -- whether this is your first visit or your daily check. Thank you especially to those of you who are of a different mind than I about whatever, for continuing to read. Thank you for the occasional notes you send me to let me know I'm not alone in the world. Thank you for your seemingly endless support. In short, thank you for being you. You make my life brighter and I am so honored to be a part of yours.

Whether you choose to light candles next week, or sing around a tree, or go eat Chinese food and see a movie, I hope you have a truly wonderful time with the people you love. Be safe and have a very Merry Christmas.

Is that Malaysia? The borders over there are kind of strange, but I think it's Malaysia, not Thailand. Either way, hello and welcome!

Y'all are going to make my head swell up so big I can't fit in the door. I hope you realize this.

So did everyone have a lovely solstice yesterday? If for no other reason, I think we should all celebrate it because it means the days are going to get longer from here on out. At least until June. And that's good news. More daylight! Yay! Warmer temperatures! Yay! It is actually warmer in Chicago today than it has been for a long time. I left my apartment this morning in balmy 20 degree weather. It felt pretty good, actually.

So yeah. Hooray for longer days. Winter won't last forever...

Hi, Japan! That makes six continents -- North America, South America, Europe, Australia, Africa, Asia. Unless the United Arab Emirates is not Africa, then we're only at five. But still, that's pretty sweet!

And hello, France! I think that's a different person, though, because it is somewhere else in France than it was before. Unless it is the same person who has moved. In which case, welcome to your new home.

So the New York Transit Strike. I feel like I should say something about it, but I'm not exactly sure what to say. I don't live there. I don't work for the MTA or any sort of union. All I know is what I have read about it. It looks like the average TWU Union worker (or whatever their proper name is) earns more money than I do, has a pretty sweet benefits package that they don't pay for, and gets to retire at age 55. Granted, it is more expensive to live in New York than it is to live in Chicago, but that still looks like a pretty sweet deal to me. I can understand that they would be upset about changes to that system. But paying 2% of your own health benefits is not that big of a deal. It's not a huge expense. And bumping the retirement age to 62 for new hires (not for people already in the system) brings the TWU a little closer to the national average. So the changes would really only impact people joining the TWU now or in the future. So the people striking are looking out for fellow employees that they haven't met yet. That's kind of sweet. But wait, they're shutting down a city during the holidays. Making it so that friends can't make it to their friend's holiday parties, or might choose not to so as to avoid big cab fares or long walks in frigid weather. Making it difficult for people to finish their last minute shopping. I know, I know, we shouldn't procrastinate, but we all do. I've heard of unions who wanted to strike before, but out of good faith, to keep the world running at close to normal levels, they will only strike for a day, or they will delay a strike until, say, the end of the school year so that kids can still graduate. It seems kind of malicious to me for the TWU to strike now. I'm guessing that was the point. And that bothers me.

Not to mention the fact that public employees are not allowed to strike in New York. So the very fact that they are striking means they are criminals. Apparently the union got slapped with a one-million-dollar-a-day fine for the duration of the strike that they are appealing. Hey, you illegally shut down a city and expect no consequences? Do you live in the real world?

The individual workers can be fined up to two days pay for each day they stay on strike. That's a lot of money. Money I bet they can't afford at the holiday time. Which makes me think that this has to be about something more. I know some of the picketers were carrying "We move you. Respect us" signs. They must feel really bad about they way they are treated to surrender two days pay for each day they stay on strike, and to organize a strike at this time of year. If I may play devil's advocate for a minute, though, whatever happened to just doing your job? We, as a society do tend to look down on certain professions, yes. Particularly blue collar professions. But there are plenty of blue collar workers who live comfortable lives. They make a good wage (thanks to their unions), they have decent benefits. Hell, there are even homeless people who bring in over $40,000/year panhandling. They know they are panhandlers, though. They don't demand respect. They know they have a tasteless job, but it pays the bills, so they keep doing it. Telemarketers, too. Is it really worth shutting down a city so that people will say "Thank you" from time to time? I don't know. I'm guessing it has to be a LOT more complicated than that, and like I said, I'm not a union member, I don't live in New York, and I don't know first hand what their work conditions are like. I do know that when I was just there, I saw an ad on the subway advertising for maintenance workers for the MTA and it looked like a pretty sweet deal to me. I know I would come home covered in oil, and I'd have to put in strange hours, and I would probably smell like exhaust for the rest of my life, but if that's what I had to do to pay the bills...

I dunno. I don't know what to say about the strike other than I hope it ends soon.

Random things:

Hello to my reader in United Arab Emirates! And in the UK! And in Venezuela! I noticed that the reader map thingy only keeps track of the last 100 people to click on it. So if you've disappeared (France and Australia), click on it again! You've got a bunch of people in the US to compete with. Tee hee. I do have to say that I'm really amazed that that many people visit my blog, and from so many different places. At least four different continents. I have to admit that geographically, I can never remember if the Saudi Penninsula counts as part of Africa or Europe, but if it does qualify as Africa, then five continents. People on five different continents have visited my blog at one point or another. That's pretty darn amazing, if I do say so myself. I'm curious at to how you all found me. But it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, too, so thank you to all of you for stopping by to say hello. You make my day.

I think I'm either allergic to my workplace or to Chicago in general because I've not felt well since I got back. Maybe moving to New York would be good for my health...

If you've never had a pet, might I suggest a visit to your local animal shelter to pick one out. I can't even begin to tell you the joy that my cat brings into my life. He just likes being near me. Or on my lap. He talks to me and tells me about his day. He plays with me. He's got me so trained, it really is sad. But it is so nice to come home to someone who is happy to see me, yet is content to sit on the back of the couch by my head while I eat dinner and vegetate. Both of the friends I visited on the East Coast have cats, and it was lovely to meet and play with their cats, but there is nothing like coming home to your own. We know each other better. We trust each other more. So seriously, if you've never had a pet, I'd suggest going to check one out. Make sure you can take care of it, though. If you're not home a lot, I might suggest a hamster or a cat rather than a dog -- dogs require a lot more time and energy. But get a bunny. Get a tarantula. Get some fish. You will be astounded by how different each one is, and how complex their personalities are. And you will melt when they get to know you well enough to trust you and show affection. Even if that display of affection is sitting between the shower curtain and the liner and meowing until you're finished taking your shower.

Why does every public radio station announcer sound like he or she is stoned? Do they teach you that in public radio station announcer school? Or do they teach people who actually go to school to become radio station announcers how to not make themselves sound stoned, and in all truth, we all sound stoned when talking on the radio unless we make a conscious effort not to? I think public radio would have a much better reputation amongst the pop culture whores if the djs were more engaging.

I know I'm not making a lot of sense. Please bear with me. It's my work allergies. My brain isn't working right.

Have a lovely day everybody!

And a happy belated birthday to my Bostonian guy friend. It's hard to keep up with you now that your site is gone. But I hope you are well, and I hope you had a lovely day yesterday.

And my Filipino friend who is soon to be a dad, happy birthday to you, too. I hope you have a particularly nice day today, even though it is horribly cold outside.

Hey!

So yeah, it's been a while. Sorry about that. I've been busy. Let's see...

Thank you to my surgeon friend and her husband for letting me stay with them outside Philly, and it was an absolute pleasure to meet your son! He is beautiful. This perfect little human being fell asleep in my arms. I was so honored. But yeah, I got to go visit them for about...twelve hours? Maybe? Beautiful house in a rather suburban area, which was kind of odd in and of itself. I'm so out of touch with the suburbs. I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. The suburbs have their advantages. I've just become so much of a city person. It was almost a relief when the baby started screaming at 4am because there was some noise. I can't sleep without my city noises anymore.

I love New York. I hate driving into New York, but I love New York. It is really odd to me that this place I've only visited a handful of times feels so much like home. I dunno. I guess when I tapped into the city's energy four or five years ago (has it only been that long?), I really tapped in. But I understand why New Yorkers don't want to leave. It really is an amazing city and I truly, truly love being there. Someone asked me last week where I plan on being a starving artist and my initial response was, of course, Chicago, but it occurred to me that if I wanted to go somewhere else (i.e. New York), now might be a good time to do it. Aside from the "I have no money" thing. But it's something to think about. Maybe give New York a try in the near future and see if it is as much fun to live there as it is to visit.

The Moby concert was okay. I hate to say it, but it was just okay. I went with a woman I haven't really hung out with much before, and I think we had a lot of fun, so in that respect, it was fun. And I always love watching Moby on stage. But he had a cold, so he seemed a little...slow. Or something. Or maybe it was just that they played most of his stuff really down tempo. Even the slow stuff was slower than usual. I did like the 37 versions of Porcelain as they were fixing one of the amps, and I liked That's When I Reach for My Revolver and Lift Me Up, but yeah. It was a very self-indulgent show because it could be. I wonder what it is like to be up on stage and know that no matter what you do, the entire audience will love it. I'm sure he had fun. I'm sure all of the musicians on stage had fun. I was just hoping they'd rock out a little more. It was fun to see some of the songs that have never been played in public before. And this really tall guy who works for the circus was hitting on me for the first half of the evening, but I think I freaked him out with my enthusiasm for the show. He was decidedly not a dancer. He was there with a couple of his friends who were Moby fans. I think he liked the show, but he wasn't really into it. And he kind of disappeared once the live set was over. This other guy came out and told what was one of the funniest stories I have ever heard while they were switching over for Moby's DJ set. I realized it had been probably weeks since I laughed that hard and I really needed that. Unfortunately, this very talented, very funny story teller was then mobbed by a group of women who seemed to want to make out with him just because he was famous and/or knows famous people and he fell for it. Oh well. With any luck, he'll get more stories out of it. And then Moby came out to DJ. I will say this: I loved his song selections. Granted, a lot of the records he spun were his own, but they were really good. There was some other stuff mixed in there, too, but it was good, dark house, which is exactly what I like. Sadly, he did little to no beat matching/mixing. He'd drop the bass out on one record while the vocal was doing something, and then just start another record at the right time. The guys who spun at my 25th birthday party are SO much better. I have to admit, I was a smidge disappointed. Granted, he's not been DJing in years, but he knew this show was coming up. He could have practiced. Or practiced more. And also on the sad front, there was almost noone there who could really dance to that music. Nothing really inspirational on the dance floor. I found myself thinking I wouldn't have minded so much if I had been drunk, but I wasn't. It got to be tough to really dance 'cuz...I dunno. It just seemed like the crowd wasn't really there. Or if they were, they were too focused on "Oh my god, it's Moby!" to pay attention to the music. I stayed to the end, though, but didn't hang out after to try to meet him again. It was time to go home. I did tell the drummer that it was a good set. He was shorter than I remember him, but still really friggin' hot.

Oh, and while I was in New York, anyway, the transit strike did not happen. About which I was very happy. Subways in New York are awesome, both for their accessibility and the people you see on them. Priceless.

Friday, I had lunch at Teany with one of my New York hosts. He's not the vegetarian sort, but he does like food, so he humored me and I think we had a nice time. Honestly, I go there for the food. The first time I went, I went to support Moby. I go back because it really is just damn good food. I got some to go, too. If I lived in New York, I'd go bankrupt eating at Teany all of the time. Though I started thinking about how to make that stuff at home, and I think I could do it. Some of it anyway. Not the teas. I'd still have to buy those.

And we went to a party that night whereat I got to see most of the rest of my New York friends. It was fun. I could so be a New Yorker.

Thank you to my lovely New York hosts. Your apartment is really cool with the lack of right angles, and your cat is darling, and thank you for letting me take over your living room for a couple of days. Hopefully next time I'll get to stay a bit longer and maybe all three of us can hang out at the same time instead of the sort of time-share thing we had going on this time around.

And then off for my first out of town gig in Williamsport, PA. SO WEIRD! I was freaking out as I was driving into Williamsport, in that "Do one thing every day that scares you" kind of a way. Here I was, driving into this little, very quiet, very deserted-looking town to play music for people who have no idea who I am, and I have no idea if any of my marketing techniques have reached anyone. Turns out, they didn't really. None of the discs I sent to radio stations got played, near as I can tell. The two people who showed up came to see the guy who booked me and was opening for me and they had no idea anyone else was scheduled to play. So it was as I feared. An audience of four, including the guy who opened for me and the barista. In their defense, they were a great crowd, albeit small. I'm always amazed when men like my music, but they were really diggin' it, and made it sound like there were a lot more than three people in the crowd (the barista was doing a lot of cleaning and stuff, so she didn't clap much). And they were really nice people. I ended up getting a drink with two of them after the show and admittedly, the one who wasn't hitting on me was the cooler of the two (probably because he wasn't hitting on me), but it was a fun evening. And, for the second time in my life, I found myself working with someone who has worked with a Monkee. The guy who booked me/opened for me is the keyboard player in Davy Jones' new band. So that was kind of groovy. I like being two degrees from the Monkees. I find that somehow cooler than being two degrees from Kevin Bacon. Everyone has ties to Kevin Bacon. How many people do you know who have ties to the Monkees? I thought so.

And then I got up and drove home yesterday. Pennsylvania is too big. Ohio is too expensive. But Chicago is beautiful. I love coming home to Chicago, and knowing that my cat is waiting for me by the door. As much as I love New York, I think it might break my heart to leave Chicago.

So thank you again to my surgeon friend and her husband, my New York hosts, the Java Juice and Art Cafe and Johnny Blair, the two guys who came to see my show, my friend who went to see Moby with me, and my other New York friends for making this a lovely trip. Next time, I'll stay longer. And hopefully play to bigger crowds.

It's kind of comforting in a really strange way when your doctor laughs at how healthy you are.

On another note, the longer version of Leftover Voices is so much better than the short version! I'm so in love with that movie. And thank you to all of my friends who came out to see it last night -- it meant the world to me to have you there with me. And I'm such a rock star that I took the train home from my movie premiere, ate some Thai food, and went to bed. Party monster! w00t.

Sorry.

On yet another note, I leave for the east coast tomorrow. I'm excited to see my surgeon friend and her husband and new baby. I'm excited to see my New York friends. I'm excited to see a really awesome Moby show and to eat at Teany way more times than one human should in 48 hours. I'm excited and nervous to play in Williamsport. What if nobody shows up? Well, then I'll have an actual rockstar story. "Yeah, my first out of town show was in this cafe in Williamsport, Pennsylvania and it was just after finals so all of the students had gone home and there were three people in the audience, including the guy who opened for me and the barista. But we had a good time and got really caffeinated and I drove home in a blizzard the next day in time for my theater company's holiday party." Every rock star needs such a story, right? Right? Is it okay if I don't have one? Is it okay if a lot of people show up and the gig rocks? Speaking of which, I need to remember to bring CDs.

Anyway. This will be the life of a starving artist. This is the life I am signing up for and I'm excited to see what it is like. And I'm still, as Mike Doughty says, "Feelin' so good that it hurts my skin." Be well and wish me luck!

Holy crap, I have an Australian reader, too! Welcome!

And to all of you across the US, hi!

I'm thinking the only problem with this reader locator thingy is that I don't know who all of you are, necessarily. Well anyway, for whatever reason you found my site, thanks for popping by and reading. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Leftover Voices full-length premiere is tonight. Yay! I'm excited. A little bit nervous, but mostly excited. I'm hoping I can get past my own physicality tonight as I watch it. As in, I hope I don't spend this whole screening thinking, "I had hair. And it was such pretty hair," like I did last time.

And I don't know how many of you out there watch "Grey's Anatomy" (though I'm guessing that out of the 23 people who have clicked on the reader locator thingy, the one person in France probably does not -- sorry, dude), but at the end of last night's episode, in order to feel Christmasy, Izzy, Meredith, George, and the dog ended up lying with their heads under the Christmas tree looking at the lights. So when the show was over, I did just that. I turned off all of the other lights in my apartment, turned on some Christmas music, and laid down on the floor with my head under my Christmas tree, looking up through the needles at the lights and the ornaments. I have to say, it was really nice. Made that much nicer by the fact that my cat came to join me, like it was no big deal to nap under the Christmas tree.

You know, they've done studies that have shown that having a pet is good for your health -- it reduces stress and lowers blood pressure and stuff -- and if you have a pet, you know the love of which I speak when I say I love my cat more than anything. They've also now done studies on pets and found that the touch of a familiar person does the same thing for the pet that it does for the human -- lowers stress, reduces blood pressure, etc. When Owen was little, he was such an attention whore; he didn't care who was giving him attention as long as someone was petting him. But as he is getting older, he is becoming more and more my cat. When company is over, he still comes to me for affection. And it's little things like him napping under the Christmas tree with me that make me think he loves me, too, in his own way. And it's thoughts like that that absolutely melt my heart.

Feliz cumpleanos a mi amigo. Deseo que tienes muchos anos buenos.

(My apologies to any Spanish speakers who I offended by slaughtering your language.)

So a plane skidded off a runway at Midway Airport in Chicago last night during the snowstorm and is still, I believe, parked on Central Avenue near 55th.

When my friend called to tell me to turn on the news last night because of something that happened with a plane, I, of course, gasped in fear. After about a second, though, I realized that it was a weather related thing. The runways weren't de-iced enough or something. Because really, it sounds like the plane did a donut or something -- it just skidded out of control, the same way a car will in these conditions, and the pilot lost control. Not because he was drunk or because he was negligent, but because when a 50 ton aircraft hits a big patch of ice going 50 miles per hour, it's hard to regain control (the 50 tons is an estimate, as is the speed of the plane at the time -- I don't know the exact numbers; I wasn't there).

But I still have to say that my heart goes out to the family of the six year old boy who was killed when the plane hit two cars. Apparently about a dozen people were injured, but I've only heard about the one death. How heartbreaking. I'm truly sorry for your loss.

In my uber-happy state, though, I am thankful that the damage was not worse. I am thankful that it was a simple weather-related accident (I believe) and not some crazy sabotage scheme. I am thankful that the 90 people on the plane got to go home okay. I'm sorry about the little boy, though. I can't imagine how his parents are feeling now.

So let this be a lesson to all of us -- when your plane is delayed because of snowstorms, take some comfort in the fact that it means you'll land later safely in good weather, rather than taking out a couple of cars and going home with bumps and bruises from being tossed around in an out of control plane.

So I'm happy. And it's kind of freaking me out. I've not felt this good in a very long time and I can't identify any sort of trigger for my persistent good mood. Get this:

Yesterday, it snowed in Chicago. A lot. And I had to walk all over campus in the snow collecting signatures. Then I had to drive home and it took me two hours to go the seven miles from my place of business to my home. The roads were slick and there was not a plow in sight. People kept getting out of their cars at stop lights to brush the snow off of their rear windows because we were going so slow that there was a nice accumulation building up there, no matter how hard you blasted your rear defroster. And I ran out of windshield washer fluid even though the oil change place says they filled it up just last week when I was in there. And I was sore from working out. And I came home to a house that smelled funny from the exterminator being there all day. And none of it pissed me off. None of it. I met a mechanic who lives around the corner from me who said he'd help me change out my headlight, and he was helping people get their cars out this morning. I smiled at a random guy using a snow blower to clear the sidewalk. I thanked another neighbor for shoveling her part of the sidewalk. I've been downright cheery for DAYS and I don't get it. I still have same crappy job, I still have no boyfriend nor any prospects for a boyfriend, I'm still facing having no money for a while, and it's winter in Chicago, but I'm stupid happy. Verging on giddy. A good song comes on the radio and I clap my hands. It's nuts.

So yeah, look out. There's no telling what might happen if this cheerfulness persists.

It's weird, though. I now understand why nobody wanted to hang out with me all those years I was depressed. It's hard to be in a good mood and walk into a room with someone who just wants to complain all of the time. Not saying I won't listen -- take note, dear friends, it's still okay to talk to me about not happy things -- but I get it now. When someone is not happy for seven years, it gets taxing to hang around them. I get it, and I apologize for that. I'm happy now, though. Come talk to me.

I think I could get used to this personal trainer thing. I mean really, that was awesome.

We didn't really do any exercises that were horribly unfamiliar to me, and most of it was stuff that I could duplicate at home. But it's different with someone there pushing you to do just three more reps, just two more, just three more, just one more, just two more, okay, and done. And I'm sore today, but not "I can't move" sore. It's a tightness. My muscles know they got a workout.

I'm not sure I dig on the whole gym thing, though. The air in there was really...pressurized or something. Like being on an airplane. And my trainer has a tendency to mumble, so I kept having to ask him to repeat himself. After a while, I just took to smiling and nodding, and/or looking like I was focusing on my workout.

But I kind of like the idea of going to a person and saying, "Make me look like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2" and knowing that I will get there. He will select and/or design exercises to give me those shoulders, those arms, those abs. Of course, that is not the request I made yesterday. But it's kind of cool to think that I could.

Unfortunately, personal training is expensive, so I won't be able to keep it up once my two sessions have been used up. But I think I also understand the "gym buddy" thing now. When you have someone to work out with, you do more and it goes faster. And I would also like to say a really big thank you to my trainer for not laughing at me in my workout pants. He said I had good form when I was working out, and that's good to know, too. Though he kept saying, "I love that shape," which was a little odd. Almost made me wonder if he was diggin' my mongongous ass. Meh. My gay male friends love my ass. I think it's just me that doesn't like it. All the more reason why I should do something about it -- for me. Not for anybody else. Just for me.

But yeah, when I'm rich and famous, I'm going to hire a personal trainer. I liked that.

And happy birthday to my first reader.

I'll give you shit about forgetting my birthday at a later date.

So today is a wholly unremarkable day, save three things:

1) It's Pearl Harbor day. Aside from the really bad movie of the same name, I think Pearl Harbor is something worth remembering. We were attacked on our home soil and a lot of people died, both Americans and Japanese. We should honor those who fell. I kind of feel like I should also say something about the fact that when were attacked that time, we retalliated immediately against the people responsible for the attack, not a neighboring country with better oil reserves, but hey. Let's not get into that just now. Pearl Harbor day.

2) When I woke up, it was SIX degrees outside. By the time I got to work, it was between ZERO AND FOUR degrees, depending on how close you are to the lake. How bizarre is it that I'm looking forward to going to New York in the winter because it will be warmer there?

3) I'm going to a personal trainer after work. I won a couple of sessions with a personal trainer in a silent auction and figure I should use them before they expire. On the phone, when he asked me what my fitness goals were, I told him I want a smaller butt. He asked about weight loss and arms and legs and stuff, and I told him that maybe a general toning would be good, but mostly, I want a smaller butt. And honestly, I'm half-way expecting him to cringe in fear when he sees me in my workout clothes. That's what big t-shirts are for, right?

Honestly, I don't look bad. I'm not fat. If I wanted to be cast on a soap opera, I'd need to lose about thirty pounds. But I am not fat. I'm in pretty good shape. I'm just anticipating this trip to the gym to be hard on my ego. Fortunately I have the "I'm leaving my job" excuse to not sign up for a full membership or continue the training sessions beyond the two that I won. On the down side, if I like being trained...we'll think about that later. I probably wouldn't continue at this gym anyway because it's in the south Loop. I'd rather find one closer to home, if I went to one at all.

Anyway. Yeah. Totally unremarkable day. Enjoy!

See, the thing about meeting people at my age is that you have to automatically assume they are taken -- either married or in a long term relationship with someone. Which is weird, because up until this point, it was usually safe to assume that the people you met were not taken. In junior high and high school, it was a pretty safe bet that most of the people around you were single. Or even if they were in a relationship, if one party or the other was offered just the right incentive, they could very quickly be out of a relationship. No, I never broke anyone up. But I saw it happen all of the time. But now, just about everyone I meet is married, with someone, or gay. And yet, I have all of these single female friends. What gives?

I know I'm going to regret this later, but I've not hidden anything from you guys before, so why should I start now? I think I've even posted things like this before, and it's usually greeted with, "Don't do it! You'll ruin your life!" type enthusiasm. But here goes: I'm feeling the urge to date. Maybe it was brought on by my Texas friend saying I look particularly cute just now. Or maybe it was brought on by my other projects ending, so I actually have/had time to date. Or maybe it's just that I've finally figured out what I want and what I'm willing to sacrifice to get it that I'm ready to start looking and see if it's actually out there. Maybe it's because I've conquered so many of the other challenges in my life that all that's really left is this one. But I feel like giving dating a chance.

I would, however, like to put this disclaimer on it: I have not yet met anyone I would like to date. None of my friends. None of the people at my high school reunion. None of the people I talk to at random on the internet. None of the people I used to party with two shows ago. I've been giving it some serious thought and I need to find someone totally new and unrelated to anything else I have going on and date him.

But I will say this. If you are so inclined, go back through my archives to December of 2004 (I believe). Maybe it was December of 2003, I don't remember exactly. But I made a list of qualities that I would like in a partner. If you happen to run across someone who fits that description, please let me know. Age isn't really important. Height isn't really important. Gender kind of is -- I'd rather be with a man than a woman at this point in my life. But yeah, if you know that guy who I'm describing, please let me know.

Man, do I sound pathetic. I'm not desperate. I'm fine being single. I think, though, that I'd like to give sharing my life with someone a try. You know. Something new.

This sounded much better and more philosophical in my head. Sorry about that. I got distracted on my way here by a cute bald guy. Who has a long-term girlfriend. See what I mean?

Ah.

Things are falling into place for my visit to New York. And Philadelphia. I'm so excited to meet my friend's son. I'm so excited to see a Moby show. I'm so excited to hang out with my New York friends, even just for a day. I'm so excited to eat at Teany. I'm so excited to play a show in Williamsport. It occurred to me as I was looking for a hotel in Williamsport that yes, I do qualify for the business traveller rate. I'm going out there on business, and my business is music. How cool is that?

So yeah, I feel much better now that I know where I'm going, when, and who I'm staying with. Breathing much easier. Yay.

So yeah, I just added this little thing over on the side there that I found on my Texas friend's site. If you click on it, it will keep track of where all of my readers come from.

So click on it! I want to know where y'all are.

Tee hee.

I'm going to New York next week. I'm going to Philadelphia next week. I'm going to play a show in Williamsport, Pennsylvania next week.

Eep.

The problem with feeling Christmasy so early in the season is that I keep feeling the need to wish people a happy holiday when I leave the room. And I stop myself and say, "But the holidays are still three weeks away. They're going to think I'm crazy."

Maybe I am.

Oh well.

Oh! I'm posting this here, too, just in case I don't have your email address and you want to go:

Leftover Voices
Monday, December 12
6:00 pm
1104 S. Wabash, 3rd floor cinema
Chicago, IL
Free!

I'm geeked to see the longer version.

Okay. Happy holidays, kids.

Sign #86 of the coming apocalypse: I'm listening to Christmas music at work and enjoying it. Granted, it's the online WXRT Christmas music station, so it's artists I like doing holiday tunes (and yes, they played Adam Sandler's Hannukah song, too), but still. For years, Christmas music for me has been pretty much exclusively "The Nightmare Before Christmas" soundtrack. But something about the pretty, powdery snow, knowing what I want to give most people for Christmas, the thought of getting a tree this weekend all put me in the mood to listen to Christmas music. And lo and behold, the link to this station showed up in my inbox today. It's pretty good.

So yeah, if there was anything you really wanted to do with your life but haven't yet, do it soon, for the world is surely coming to an end.