One of the big reasons why I'm looking forward to my trip to Vegas this weekend is that it will be warmer there.

I went to my friend's wedding last night. I'm friends with both the bride and the groom, so it was doubly special. And wow...so beautiful. I love all of the traditions involved in a Jewish wedding. And I got to sing "Fly Me To the Moon" for them at the reception which was lovely, even though I screwed up the lyrics. Everyone was pretty drunk, so I don't think they noticed, but when they go back and watch the wedding video, they'll be able to laugh heartily at it.

So thank you to my beautiful, wonderful friends for letting me be a part of your special day. I'm so glad I was there. And thank you for having a vegan meal option. Tee hee.

Happy Mother's Day to the hardest working group of people in the world: moms.

I have a particularly good one. I know I've probably mentioned this before, but she really is amazing. Intelligent, artistic, supportive, loving, beautiful...the list goes on. She is one of my dearest friends and I am thankful every day that she is in my life.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

I smell like sausage. My cat is fascinated by me this evening...

I like spontenayonaise on my sandwich.

You know, when I find something really amazing, I like to hold onto it. I like to experience it as much as I can and learn from it and about it and stuff. I try really hard to not shit on it, because it's really amazing and my life is richer with this really amazing element added in.

Am I crazy? Do other people feel the same way about amazing stuff, or am I the only one? Or are a lot of other people so overcome by the fear of amazing things that they have to shit on the amazing things and run away from them?

I don't get it.

A very dear friend of mine became an uncle for the first time today. Congratulations to his family on their newest member! And welcome to the world, Robert!

I got to see a friend of mine tonight who I haven't seen since he moved very far away and I have to say, it made my night to be able to hug him. He teased me once about seeking out a relationship that would automatically preclude the other party from actually caring about me and I was okay with that because in it's own way, that's a very attractive relationship. I know he meant it to be a sad slight though. That's okay.

It was really nice to see my friend tonight. I've missed him. Though please remind me to not go with him for burritos afterwards again. Not a good idea. Though it sounds like it at the time, I should know I'm going to pay for it later...

I love it that the big oil companies are so pinched for cash that they have to charge over three dollars a gallon for gas here in the States (more than that elsewhere in the world), yet they can afford a nice, new, electronic sign at the gas station to show us all how much the price is continuing to go up, without having to send an employee out to the sign to change the numbers.

Hi, Iran! Welcome to the party. Good timing.

Enough with the being sad. I'm going to learn how to play bass guitar.

(Not bad for my 1700th post in here, huh?)

Okay, I have a suggestion for the fashion industry: why not change the sizing on all women's clothing so it is closer to the sizing on men's clothing? You want us all to be shaped like men, so why not size our clothes that way?

Let me explain. Men's clothing sizes are based on the actual size of the man. When buying trousers, the first measurement is his waist size, the second his inseam. When buying shirts, the first measurement is the girth of his neck, the second the length of his sleeve. And so on and so forth. In women's clothing, you are given a number. A flat out number that is odd if you're buying from the junior's section, or even if you're buying in the women's section. And you know what? They adjusted all of those numbers a few years ago. For example, I'm sure you've all heard that Marilyn Monroe was a size 8. Well, back then, her size 8 was comparable to our size 14. They made all of the numbers smaller to make us all feel thinner. You know what? We're not thinner. On average, we're not. So how about this? Change women's sizes to correspond to their measurements. Yes, all of the size zeros out there would suddenly become 22s, but come on? How many women out there have never tried on a pair of men's jeans? You know what your measurements are anyway. And, this would allow the fashion industry to develop, oh, I don't know, jeans that fit actual women? They could have waist, hip, and length measurements, increasing in one inch increments, just like men's jeans. So those women without hips as well as those of us with enough junk in the trunk to earn the honorary last name of Jenkins could easily find a pair of jeans at the store within minutes of walking in the door. And we're all time-conscious, right? The faster we find a good, comfortable pair of jeans, the more we're likely to buy, right?

And shirts, too. I know a lot of women who are plenty curvy, but have tiny waists, and as a result, they have to buy medium or large shirts to accomodate the bust that then fail to show off the tiny waist. How about gradations of sizes there, too?

And worst of all, dresses. How many of you out there can wear a medium on top, but have to get a triple extra large on the bottom? I know I'm not the only one. I know this for a fact. Or again, the particularly large busted women who have no hips -- you buy a dress that fits in the bust and it has no shape from the waist down. How about a little wiggle room in women's clothing?

I just think it's kind of funny that the ones who aren't supposed to like shopping and buying clothes are the ones who have to remember the most detailed sizing information when they go out. I know a lot of women who buy men's clothing anyway, for one reason or another. Or maybe it's because I'm really really really wishing I was in Europe, because European clothing sizes deal with the actual size (in inches or centimeters) of the clothing. That's how I was able to find my Holland pants so easily. I don't care that the number on the label is really big. They fit like a glove.

Just a thought.

And thanks for the silly pictures of sheep and other random things. I love you guys.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, everybody. Go listen to the Liz Phair song of the same name to celebrate.

So for the last few days...let's just say they've not been particularly good for me. I love you for your concern, but I really don't want to talk about it. It's really strange, but my jaw doesn't want to open wide enough for me to force out sound. It's not a physical ailment; purely psychological. I've not had this before, where I feel like I really don't have a voice. I know in the metaphorical sense I have a voice -- I have this journal and I have my music and my art and whatnot. I feel like I physically don't have a voice anymore. It's really strange.

But I can still sing. Go figure.

But what it all comes down to is I just need to get out of my own head. Honestly, if I could take a vacation from my brain, that would be lovely. Thinking about baseball isn't helping because the Cubs aren't looking so hot right now. I don't know if it's a good thing or not, but I'm involved in another show now, once again doing tech for it. On the up side, it forces me to go out and interact with other people. On the down side, I really wanted a break. So that's not a good distraction either.

Does anyone have a particularly amusing anecdote to share? Or a dirty limerick? Something cerebral to get me out of my own thoughts? (I saw cerebral to reassure you all that I'm not going to resort to chemical options, if you know what I mean.) A funny picture of a sheep? Anyone? Bueller?

Ow.

Happy birthday to my brother!

I think in honor of today, he (and anyone else who wants to celebrate his birthday) should go to Baskin Robbins and get a taste of all thirty-one flavors.

I'm just sayin'.

Happy birthday! I love you.

Have you ever had one of those days where the sound of your own voice is the most horrific thing in the universe? Yeah, for those of us who like to call ourselves "singers," that's what is known as a "bad day."

But thanks to everyone who came out and heard me sing last night anyway. I hope it was better for you than it was for me.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Here's hoping...

Welcome to Non Sequitor Hour, with your host, Miss Kitty.

I saw a bumper sticker that said, "Ordain Women or Stop Dressing Like Them." Made me laugh.

Saw the Cubs get their asses handed to them yesterday. Ouch.

It's just generally been an icky weekend in Chicago. I'm ready for next week.

I need to stop trying to be a part of something and just go back to being a whole me.

I went to a really great house party last night and managed to not do anything stupid. Unless you call camping out by the stereo to listen to The Pogues "Fairytale of New York" stupid. Oh, and I left with a hat that isn't mine. I know whose it is and he didn't seem to mind that I was leaving with it. I have every intention of returning it, don't worry.

Heineken Light tastes almost exactly like regular Heineken. This is a very good thing.

Yeah, that's about it. I think I'm going to go make some ravioli. Someting about icky weather makes me want pasta with red sauce.

I want to be Ed Hamell when I grow up.

The band that opened for him...not so much. They managed to find just about everything I don't like about music and put it into a forty minute set. Yes, they are all very talented with their instruments. I just didn't like the way they chose to use their instruments. And it wasn't helped at all by the bitchy girls who took over my space and stole my stool and were smoking like chimneys while complaining about how smoky it was in there. But I digress...

Ed Hamell. Performs and releases albums under the name Hamell on Trial. Check him out. Fucking amazing. Amazing. I left his show with a headache and no voice it was that good. And the best part? He's one guy with an acoustic guitar. But sweet jebus does he know how to play it! At one point, in his second encore, he bent over forwards and a sheet of water fell off of his head, he was sweating so much. And his songs are political and powerful and sweet and funny as all get out. I've not squeaked that much in a very long time. A VERY. LONG. TIME. Damn, I wish I could play the guitar like him. I hope that one day, my music moves a whole room full of people the way his moved us tonight, both physically and intellectually. He just...

I know I've recommended artists before. But seriously guys, please check this one out. He tours a lot, too, so chances are he's coming to your town at some point in the not too distant future. If you live in the US, that is. If you don't, well, maybe you'll finally have to come visit. His CDs are good, but they're nothing compared to his live show.

And, just to be really petty for a second, the next person who tells me I sing too fast is going to get a nice lesson in the world of Hamell on Trial, okay?

(I have no idea what that means. He sings fast. Really fast. Faster than he plays and when he plays his hand is a blur. So if you think I sing too fast, listen to his records before you listen to mine and I'll sound just fine, thank you very much.)

When I first got glasses, I hated them. HATED them. I was maybe a sophomore in high school and I'd always had great eyes until then. But then I had to get glasses and I felt like a total dork. As Ms. Parker said, "Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses." So as soon as I possibly could, I got contact lenses. It was hellish learning how to put them in and even worse learning how to take them out. But I got used to it and I can handle the contact lens thing now. I like how they stay with my eyes when I look around, so I can sneakily check people out without having to turn my head. That kind of thing.

But every now and again, my eyes just need a break. I got these glasses that I have not about a year ago, just after I shaved my head. And I figured I should get some glasses that accented my face, as I was now missing the number one fashion accessory available to women -- hair. So I got these cute, black rimmed glasses that I can only really classify as sexy librarian glasses. Because they do kind of make me feel like a librarian, but one of those ones who takes off her glasses and takes the bun out of her hair and suddenly there are gale force winds blowing her blouse open as "Foxy Lady" plays in the background.

So today, I decided that the first step in getting out of my funk is to be nice to myself. So I dressed a little nicer today. Maybe even a little sexy (black bra under white button-up shirt). And I wore my glasses. Don't know why my glasses are now making me feel better about myself, but they are. Go figure, huh?

The only drawback with wearing my actual glasses is that I usually only wear sunglasses, which I put on top of my head when I walk into a building. So when I'm wearing my regular glasses, I instinctively put them on my head when I walk into a building and am suddenly startled that everything is fuzzy.

Meh.

I went to the wake for the mother of one of my favorite dance partners yesterday. I never know how to behave at wakes. They would seem to be rather solemn occasions, yet every one I've been to, I end up laughing in the back with the relatives of the recently deceased. I don't know. I guess since wakes take place a couple days after the actual death, and those first couple of days are spent dealing with the death and making arrangements and stuff, maybe by day three, you just need a really good laugh. Maybe that's what wakes are for.

Either way, my sincerest condolences to my friend and his family. I know it was expected, but it's still never easy. I'm here if you need me. And next time I see you, I'll laugh better. Love you.

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm in a funk. I'm not sure what it will take to get me out of this funk. I don't want to dwell in said funk. I'm getting tired of said funk. Maybe I need to listen to some funk. Or better yet, dance to some funk. Or some techno. Yes, a good, raging techno night would be a lot of fun. Or I need to get some really good news on Monday. I don't want to talk about that just yet, but I'm hoping for some extraordinarily good news sometime next week. And the fact that I just wrote that means I won't get the news I'm hoping for. Maybe some related news. But not the news I really want.

Maybe my Vegas trip will help. Yes, I am going to Vegas in a couple of weeks. Do people who actually live in Vegas get annoyed that most of the rest of the world drops the "Las" part of the name of their city? Like we in Illinois get annoyed when people pronounce the name of our state with an S at the end? The S is silent, people!

Okay, here's another one. Whenever you watch a cooking show, they tell you, "This is a really easy recipe that is ready in about fifteen minutes. First, peel and vein thirty jumbo shrimp..." Hello! Peeling and veining thirty shrimp takes about an hour by itself. And then you have the shallots and the garlic to chop and the fresh orange juice to squeeze, and then the shrimp have to marinate for fifteen to thirty minutes. This is not a simple recipe! This will not be ready in fifteen minutes! This will take a good two hours of your life, minimum. I'm sorry. I'm just saying. People on cooking shows, remember. Those of us who live outside of the realm of televisions don't have people to chop our veggies and vein our shrimp for us. We have to do it all ourselves. That takes time. Especially since the vast majority of us never went to cooking school so we're not nearly as skilled with knives as you are.

Wow. I didn't see that coming. Sorry. I guess this is what happens when you go for days with only really talking to people through electronic means. Maybe what I need to get out of this funk is just some good, honest, intellectual stimulation. From other people. *gasp* The queen of the introverts wants to be social!

Nah. Maybe just some ice cream and South Park.

Okay, soy ice cream. Technically, I think it should be called ice soy, because really, there isn't any cream involved. But we call it soy cream. Which sounds like something you should put in your coffee if you happen to be vegan or lactose intolerant. Stupid lactose. Drives me batty.

Tee hee.

Hi, Thailand!

The only problem with that little map locator thingy over on the side there is that I don't get to see who is reading my site until after they've already been here. Is it a fluke that someone in Thailand or Egypt or wherever stumbles upon this site? Do they come back and read it again? In short, when I say hi to whatever new country shows up on the map, does whoever put it there get to see the hello?

I hope so. You guys have no idea the warm fuzzy feeling I get knowing that people all over the world read this. It's a little overwhelming, but I love it. Thank you.

Okay, so as much as I rail on myself for having the world's largest ass, I have to say I don't. It pains me to admit this because it was really fun to hide behind the excuse of having a large behind. But it's really not that bad. Yes, it is on the ginormous side. But if you're looking me head-on, my arms don't stick out to the sides unnaturally or anything, to rest on the sides of my ginormous ass. And if you look at me from the side, I don't appear to be huge or anything. It's really only if you're looking directly at my ass that it appears to be ginormous. I need to remember that. There are a lot of asses much larger than mine out there.

Yes, I am mildly intoxicated as I write this. And yes, I'm listening to old school Liz Phair which is making the music I write seem valid. And yes, I'm having one of those "I don't care if a guy likes me or not" moments. Screw that. My ass is not as big as all get out. There are plenty of asses bigger than mine.

Okay, "Flower" just came on in the mix. I remember hearing this song at parties in college, but it never really registered who it was, even though I remember asking. I think my friends just listened to it because of the dirty language. Though honestly, the language isn't that bad. It's more of a dirty theme. Regardless, I think my friends in college listened to it for the shock value.

I wonder what kind of strange dreams I'll have if I fall asleep listening to Liz Phair. Not like my dreams aren't strange enough to begin with...

Hi, Netherlands! Ik mis je.

So Derrek Lee...ouch.

Get better soon, man. We miss you already.

Okay, so we all know that there is a very strong probability that I am completely insane, yes? As long as we know that, we can proceed with the following blog entry. Though it doesn't necessarily apply to a lot of you. It only really applies to a very small segement of the population. So feel free to read this or not, as you so choose.

The segement of the population I would like to address are: career extras.

I don't know how many of you read the fine arts want ads in your local papers, but you may have seen somewhere along the line some ad promising you $500 a day to be an extra in movies and television. Let me tell you right now, unless you live in LA, that's not going to happen. And even if you do live in LA, it still probably won't happen. Those ads are from extras casting agencies, looking for people to add to their databases. I know for a fact that extras casting agents have between 3,000 and 6,000 people in their databases, depending on the agent and the market. Maybe more. I don't know. Considering the amount of extra work that there is, you do the math and figure out if you think you can make $500 a day every day for a year. I'll give you a hint -- the good extra jobs pay about $100 a day. And that's if you're really lucky.

Now, okay, let's back up for a second. What is an extra? An extra is an actor in a scene in a film or television program who isn't one of the main characters. Essentially, extras are human set dressings. They are bar patrons. They are the other people at the ball game. They are that random guy with a dog walking down the street in the background. Often times, on set, they are called "background." That's what extras are. They are there to make it look like the stars live in a real world that involves more people than just the two about whom this particular film was written.

Career extras are people who most likely have day jobs, but they have signed on with X number of extras casting agencies and they bounce from film project to television project and back again, always in the background, always playing their part. Some of these people hope to be more someday. Some of them don't. If it's work you can get regularly, it's pretty good money for (usually) a minimal amount of effort. And who doesn't want to be able to brag to their friends that they were in a movie with Super Big Movie Star A?

I was an extra on a film tonight, with two big stars. One of them has won an Academy Award. One of them should someday. I have a lot of respect for both of them and they were, at times, no more than a foot away from me. Yes, it's cool.

But as an actor, I have to say that career extras piss me off. I'll even tell you why.

Career extras are all about screen time. "Am I in this shot?" "Can they see my face?" "Maybe if I lean back a little, I'll be more centered in the frame."

When you're an extra, the scene is NOT ABOUT YOU.

One of the first things you learn when you study acting is that there is no such thing as a small part. And the next thing you learn is that theater is a collaborative effort. I may not have any lines, but the fact that I'm standing here twirling in this awesome dress when the curtain goes up means a prettier stage picture. Same thing goes for film, I think. I do truly believe that an extra in a scene should have just as complete a character history as the film's leads. You should know why you're in that bar. You should know why you're driving down that street at that time. You should have a reason to smoke that cigarette just then. Because extras are there to make the scene look more real. To trick the audience into thinking this is an actual moment between actual people. So if extras spend their entire time leaning unnaturally into shots or pantomiming instead of talking without sound, I know I'm probably the only one who is going to notice, but that doesn't make the scene feel more real. It makes it feel that much more planned.

I'm sorry to rant like this, especially when I can't even speak coherently. I somehow, every time I'm an extra, managed to get paired up with someone who I'm ready to talk to as if we're real people carrying on a real conversation over there, and all they want to talk about is whether or not they're going to be seen in this shot. I'm sorry, but that's boring. And in my book, that's not acting. I'm sorry, but it's not. You can belong to whatever unions you can afford the dues to as an extra, but I don't think it's acting when your primary concern is sneaking a photograph of the star.

I knew what my story was tonight. I think it was an interesting one, too. And whether or not I end up on the cutting room floor, it was an exercise for me. A chance to hone my skills.

And the other part of it is the stars. You know what? They're people. Doing a job. So let them do their job, for crying out loud. As extras, you know what? You're actors, too! So what if that one has an Oscar sitting at home. Theater is a collaborative effort. Without you there in the background, the scene wouldn't look right. You're no better or no worse than the star. You're there to do a job. So do you job. And let the stars do their jobs. They're just people, for heaven's sake.

Okay, I think I'm done now. The beer is telling me it's time to sleep.

I apologize to anyone I've offended with this post.

So I went to my mom's chorus concert last night and found some really odd things running through my head.

One of the things I really enjoy about watching an orchestra is watching all of the violin bows moving together.

When they first made harps, did they make the C strings red and the F strings blue? If not, when did that happen?

Singing fills so many different needs for so many different people. It's really wonderful that music can do that.

The poor glockenschpel player only got to play on one song.

I know the bassoonist.

You know, a long time ago, I learned the different motions a conductor is supposed to make to keep the time in various time signatures. I learned 2/4, 3/4, 4/4, and 6/8 times. Unless the conductor last night is so advanced in his conducting skills (and he was quite good, by the way) that he doesn't have to follow the standards anymore, everything performed last night was in 2/4 time.

All in all, it was a lovely concert. And my mom sang beautifully. I swear, there were moments when I could hear her voice over all of the others, if I concentrated hard enough. She says they missed an entrance. I didn't even notice. It was gorgeous.

Well done, Mom! Brava!

Hi, Taiwan! Welcome to my blithering. Enjoy!

I have to say that one of my all-time favorite things in the whole wide world is having my cat take a nap on me. On my lap. With one of his paws draped over my arm. With his feet on mine. Whatever. The fact that this perfect little being loves me and trusts me enough to sleep on me...I melt. Every time. I know, I know, he's just a cat. But if you have or ever have had a pet, you know what I'm talking about.

He turns five this month. I don't know exactly what day he was born, but I know it was sometime in April. We've been together for five years now (almost). And the most frightening thought occurred to me -- his life could be half over. Or one third over. One third of his life is done. I'll never get that time back. I've loved every minute of it, but it's over already. Someday, he won't be around anymore. Which makes it all that much sweeter that he'll take a nap on my lap.

Sorry. I'm listening to "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin" by Colin Hay. One of the greatest, most beautiful songs ever written. It was on this really awful television show tonight, so I had to come sit and listen to it enough times to give it back it's creed as a good song; to listen the bad TV show out of it. But it makes me cry like a baby. I remember two years ago on my birthday, Colin Hay was playing this street festival. I had a performance that night, but we booked it out of there afterwards, and my friends dropped me off so I could see him while they found parking. I got there in time to see his last song. And the encore. "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin." I was in the front row sobbing while he played it. And afterwards, I saw him behind the stage (there really isn't a "backstage" at street festivals) and told him that all I had wanted for my birthday was to see him play that song, and I thanked him for that. He said his birthday was coming up the following week. Very nice man. Personable. Funny. And he writes such amazing music. Doesn't matter that the rest of the evening was spent doing things I didn't really want to do. I got to see him play my song live. Please go find a copy of it and take a listen. It really is quite possibly the most beautiful song ever written.

Speaking of birthdays, my last two have been really crappy (aside from seeing Mr. Hay), and I think I want to change that this year. I want to play a show or something. Or go to a Cubs game. Or both. We'll see. But stay tuned for more details. My birthday will not pass by unnoticed again this year.

Happy Easter, everybody. And Happy Passover. And because I forgot to say it yesterday, happy birthday, Fucknut. I did say it to him, just not on here. Anyway.

I think it's time for another list of Kitty's Likes.

I like that the Cubs are learning how to play small ball. They're not relying solely on home runs to score. Though a few more home runs might be nice.

I like Mike Barrett.

I like Derrek Lee. Now, it took me a full season to grow to like him (two years ago) because he had been a Marlin. Part of the Marlin team that killed the Cubs' dreams of going to the World Series, I believe. But after watching him for a year with the Cubs, I have to say, I couldn't help but love the guy. He plays baseball. It's what he does. He'll take the spotlight if he has to, but he'll hit a sacrifice fly if that's what the game calls for. He is truly a team player. And then with the five year deal he just signed to stay with the Cubs...he wants to be in Chicago when Chicago wins the World Series. He wants to make that happen in Chicago. I just love it that someone who is so completely about baseball is so completely about baseball in Chicago. How can you not love that?

I like Todd Walker. I like Matt Murton.

I like it that for the most part, the Chicago Cubs are a good looking ball club. And they're off to a decent start, too.

I like napping with my cat.

I like that it's getting warmer and sunnier outside.

I like hanging out with my drummer friend.

I like playing music three days a week, minimum.

And here's a big one that I don't like: I don't like it that we've been asked not to perform a specific show again because of copyright issues. The show in question is a parody, so technically, we could claim fair use and probably get away with it. But that would involve a big, long, expensive legal battle and technically, we probably should have gotten the proper permissions beforehand, but the show we did was a parody, not necessarily a derivative work, so technically, we were okay doing it. I think they know that, too, because they didn't ask for retroactive royalties. They just asked us to not perform it again. Which means if the show is accepted into the festival we applied to, we can't go. That's a really big dislike.

I'm going to go back to thinking about the Cubs. That makes me happy.

You know what I would really love? I would really love to perform for 50,000 people. I'm not saying that I don't enjoy winning over the Chicago theater and music scenes 3 people at a time, because I do. I like being able to actually talk to people after shows and whatnot. I like being able to connect with the audience. But I would really really like to experience the buzz that comes from connecting with 50,000 people all at the same time.

Okay, even 50 would do.

Eating shell-on peanuts in the comfort of your own home is, well, not comfortable.

Okay, I know I'm not the coolest or most stylish person in the world, but would someone please tell me when "hat head" became an acceptable hairstyle for men? And why?

So I think today is going to be remembered as the Day the Reds Forgot How to Play Baseball. Seriously, they had about six errors in the first three innings. They pulled it together later in the game, but still. One of the Cubs runs was entirely due to Reds errors -- a throwing error got Pierre to first, another throwing error on a double steal allowed him to get to third, and finally, one more fielding error broght him home. It was nuts.

But it was fun to be at the game. Even moreso 'cuz the Cubs won. And now I can say I've been to a ball game by myself. I don't know if I'd recommend it, though. Or, if you do go by yourself, try not to get a seat next to an eleven year old boy who thinks it's icky to have to sit next to a girl. A girl keeping score, no less. He kinda skunked the vibe of the park for me. But man, was it a beautiful day to be at Wrigley. Perfect weather. And I made sure to get plenty of vitamin D today, too. By which I mean I walked home in the sunshine. Good fun all around.

And now I have to get ready for my show tonight. Ah, the life of a rockstar. I wonder if the eleven year old boy would have been so disgusted by having to sit next to me if he knew I'm going to be famous one day...

They say you've made it when you're no longer performing for your friends and family, but for people you don't know. In that respect, I made it a long time ago.

Still, I kind of miss performing for my friends every now and again.

Oh my goodness it's gorgeous outside!

I just went for a walk and I saw one cat, two dogs (one of which gave me a kiss), a lot of birds, some daffodils (more daffodils than birds), and I got to smell some hyacinths. How awesome is that?

And I also made an executive decision. I'm going to the Cubs game on Wednesday. I don't work on Wednesday, there are tickets available, and it's supposed to be a relatively nice day out. So why not? Granted, I don't have anyone to go with me, but so what? I've done just about everything else by myself that there is to do, so why not a Cubs game? I can get a beer and some peanuts and a scorecard and keep score just like I used to when I was little. It'll be awesome. And, in a way, I think it will be just the kind of kick in the pants I need just now. I've been kind of...in a funk. Sort of. Not a bad one, just kind of restless, you know? But my emancipation from my day job was about things exactly like this -- going to a random Cubs game on a beautiful spring day.

Now I just gotta run down to Wrigley and pick up a ticket...

I think I'm in love with Mike Barrett.

The catcher for the Chicago Cubs. Not this guy, though I do like him, too.

I saw a guy walking down the street today and in a really strange way, he made me fall in love with the human race again. He was one of those guys with a really big beer gut, but really skinny legs. He was wearing all black, with a black leather jacket he had painted things on that probably only mean something to him. Jet black dyed hair. Frankenstein shoes. Walking down the street on a beautiful, sunny, almost warm day. I dunno. Something about his total disregard for the kind of day it is in favor of just being himself -- a guy with a gut who wishes he could have been one of the Ramones.

Yes, I'm a dork. But I like people today, so deal with it.

Hooray for the heat finally coming back on in my apartment!

I've been kind of a whore for frozen corn as of late. I can't figure out why, though, because for the most part, corn comes out the same way it went in, so I don't know what corn has that my body feels it is missing. But given the lack of processing that happens with corn most of the time, I'm guessing my body still isn't getting what it thinks it needs that only corn can offer.

But I think I corned myself out today. Hopefully we'll be moving on to another totally insane craving next. Please no beets...please no beets...please no beets...

Happy Easter$

Hi.

So I have a lot swirling around in my head, but I don't know that any of it is really appropriate to post in a public forum. So, um, yeah. How 'bout them Cubbies? Off to their typical win-the-first-game-of-the-season, lose-the-second start. I wish more of the games were on regular television. And by regular television, I mean not cable. Anyway.

Okay, so I let this guy chat me up last night, knowing full well that I was going to shoot him down. Yes, I am a bitch. Part of it was that he was an interesting person to talk to and I didn't really know anyone else there. Part of it was that it was human interaction, which I'm starting to find is lacking in my life. I was so busy for so long there, and now I'm not. And not having the day job anymore, I'm not forced to talk to people all day every day. Which would seem to be the introvert's dream, yes? Well, one can only sit and be introspective for a certain amount of time before one needs to get out and talk about stupid things like whether or not it is actually possible for a woman to rape a man, not counting anal. But it was nice to talk to someone for a bit last night. And as I was talking to him, I was thinking of eighty-seven reasons why we wouldn't work, not the least of which is the fact that I've kind of been seeing someone recently. So I waited until the end of the night, when he asked for my phone number, to play the boyfriend card.

Granted, in my defense, I did mention the guy I've kind of been seeing a couple of times in the conversation. The rebuttal to that is that I didn't refer to him as my boyfriend because I don't know that that's the best definition for what he is. So was it bitchy of me to let this guy chat me up? Was it unfair to either him or the guy I've kind of been seeing? I don't know. I know I didn't feel good about it. I know I'm sorry. Had he not been trying really hard to mask his disappointment, I would have apologized more profusely to the guy who was chatting me up last night.

Or am I just being totally silly and overdrammatic? I can't quite tell anymore. What few social skills I used to have seem to be atrophying since I've not really been talking to people as of late. And does it sound totally pretentious of me to use the phrase "chatting up?" I'm just trying to make my UK readers feel welcome.

Tee hee. Yeah.

*very large grin*

It always feels good when the Cubs take the opening game of the season by some huge margin, like, say 16-7. I know, I know, it's just the first game of the year. But it's always nice to start the season with a triple and then a double and then some great defensive plays and then finish it with a huge win. And I have to say, I think Matt Murton is my new hero. We like Matt Murton. He has red hair.

Go Cubbies! It's so nice to have you back.

Ooo! And Mexico now, too! Bienvenidos a Mexico!

In regards to that last post, I know a lot of you are thinking the worst. It's not that. So no worries. I've just been feeling a little, I dunno, bored since a lot of my shows and projects have ended and I haven't found new ones to replace them yet. So I needed a reminder of some of the happy things in my life. That's all.

But thanks for your concern. I love ya for it. And many other reasons, too. Did you see that Argentina and Australia came back? That makes me so happy I can't even tell you.

Any time something good comes to an end, there's a mourning period afterwards, and I've found that during that mourning period, it's good to remember the things that make you happy. In other words, here's yet another list of the things that are currently bringing me joy.

It's light outside later and later every day. And there were two days last week wherein I didn't have to wear a jacket when I left the house.

Chocolate.

My cat. Most of the time anyway. We were play fighting the other day and he scratched up my arm pretty good so I look like a suicide attempt survivor. Though in it's own way, that brought me joy, too.

I like that I get to tell people I'm a musician when they ask what I do for a living.

Opening day is tomorrow!

Grey's Anatomy.

I like that my hair is long enough to put into two funny little ponytails that make me look like I'm about twelve years old.

Learning yoga.

I had more things in mind last night, but I've forgotten most of them now. Oh well.

Ah, Cubbies.

I've caught the ends of a couple televised spring training games so far this year, but it's a little strange to watch because I don't join the game until after all the guys I recognize have been taken out. But tonight, I'm watching the beginning of a spring training game and it's like catching up with old friends. My favorite players are out there, along with a few new faces. But to see Mikey and Derek and Todd and A-Ram...*sigh* It's so good to have my boys in blue back. Even if they are losing in the second inning. I didn't realize how much I missed Derek Lee's swing. Or Todd Walker's scruffiness. Or Mike Barrett. *sigh*

Opening day is Monday. I SO can't wait!

Okay, so I picked up a book on yoga last night and tried some of the poses this morning. Wow, did that feel good! I only did five or six poses (don't want to overexert on my first go around), but I figure if I add one or two new poses every day, I should be doing pretty well. And if I institute a yoga in the mornings, walk in the afternoons program, I should get in pretty good shape. I'm getting tired of sitting around my house so much and now that the weather's getting nice, I can walk outside, which is much more fun than walking in circles in my living room.

Though I have also thought about getting an exercise bike so I can ride while I watch/listen to Cubs games. I know, I know, I could use my real bicycle and take my Walkman with me to listen to games but frankly, riding in the city makes me nervous. I know too many people who have gotten injured in one way or another by riding bicycles in the city. Granted, I got hit by a car walking in the city, but sidewalks are generally safer than skimming a line of parked cars at 10-15 mph. But bike riders do have awesome asses and I'm pretty much convinced that if I'm ever going to get mine in any sort of shape besides round, I'm going to have to start riding. So an exercise bike that I can ride while I watch Cubs games -- that's 2-3 hours of riding on game days. I dunno. Just a thought.

I gotta get ready for work.

If you've not yet seen Thank You for Smoking, please go at your earliest convenience. Yes, Katie Holmes is in it. It's still a good movie! Just like Batman Begins. I swear, you don't even really have to pay attention during her scenes. And the rest of the film is just brilliant. Wonderful performances, great writing. Fantastic camera work. And no, it does not condone smoking. It does, kind of, condone free thought and making one's own decisions. *gasp* What a radical idea!

But in all honesty, it's a really fun movie and I would very highly recommend it. Though I think I may have to switch my vote for Most Awkward Sex Scene ever from the Halle Berry/Billy Bob Thorton scene in Monster's Ball to the one in this film. Just. Not. Pretty.

But go see the movie. You'll enjoy it. I promise.

Okay, so when I said I was ready for it to be so stinkin' hot you can't breathe, I didn't mean in my apartment. I meant outside. I want summertime, so I can go outside without a jacket. I would still like it cool enough in my apartment that I can sit motionless and not sweat. Yes, I have the windows open. No, I've not turned off the radiators because I can't find the nob on the one that's still pumping out enough heat for the entire building.

Okay, I'll stop complaining now. I do like being warm. I do like lying on my living room floor, too. Especially when my cat joins me. Have I mentioned lately how much I love him? 'Cuz I do. He's just so friggin' cute.

So that's twice now in two days that I've turned to go down a one-way street to find another car coming towards me. I know I'm going the right way down these streets; I've lived in this neighborhood for six years, and all of the parked cars on both sides of the streets are facing the same way I am. Which means twice in two days, I've encountered some ninny going the wrong way down a one-way street.

Asshats.

So as much as I would like to say that gettng hit by a car had no real negative ramificaitons (other than the odd paranoia that accompanies me every time I cross the street and there is a vehicle waiting to turn), but I might have to take that back. I went for a walk tonight, only about five miles, and my hip started to hurt by about mile four. The hip that took the impact of the collision. Yes, i got checked out by my doctor, but she didn't do any real invasive tests or anything. there could have been muscle bruising or something that she couldn't see and I couldn't feel and whatever. Now I can't walk as far as I used to. Without pain, that is.

At least I hope that's it. I'd hate to have to admit that I'm getting too old for this.

Okay, so clubbing is totally different when you're not trying to pick someone up.

Let me define terms here, real quick.

Clubbing is going out to some random bar where former frat boys and sorority girls go so they can relive their college days by listening to the same crappy music they used to back in the day, drink obscene quantities of beer, and hook up with some random person whose name they won't remember by the time they zip up their pants in the back room of the place.

Going out dancing is going to a club that plays good dance music and dancing there.

I went clubbing tonight. I've been clubbing before. I've never been horribly successful at clubbing because I always want it to be a night of going out dancing. And inevitably, the music sucks. And inevitably, the crowd makes me a little sad. But I will admit, there is usually one guy in the place who is cute. Really cute. In that depressed artist kind of a way, where you just want to take care of him and let him bear his soul and then shag him silly 'cuz you know someone that passionate has to be good. So you dance for him. You try really hard not to look at him, but you can't help it and your heart skips a little every time you catch him looking at you. And you try to look like you're a fun girl. You dance with your girlfriends to show that you'd be open to that kind of thing, but you give him the look that lets him know you're not exclusively into women. And you find the off beat and dance to that. You pull out moves you haven't done in years to show him on the dance floor that you would be amazing off the dance floor. And usually (at least in my experience), he leaves without a word. But for other women (or so I've heard), these across-the-room flirtations often wind up in make out fests on the dance floor that make the other patrons either sick or lonely, or if he's really cute and you're really drunk, you wind up waking up in some strange bed not quite sure where your underwear is, but confident in the fact that you can leave without it as long as you still have your ID and keys.

But tonight, I went out clubbing without the notion that such a flirtation/hook up was the goal. I went out clubbing honestly just to dance. It's been a long time since I either went out dancing or went clubbing and I had forgotten that such a mating ritual still exists. Random people humping one another willy nilly. Half-hour long make out sessions on a dance floor. Guys pimping out their bachelor friends. I completely forgot that the world works that way. And there I was, totally immersed in it and completely uninterested. Dancing for the joy of dancing. Or maybe for a guy who wasn't there. Certainly not for anyone who was. It was weird. Good, but weird.

Anyway. I don't know what I'm talking about anymore. I think I'll have a carob chip cookie and go to sleep.

Enjoy your night!

I like being in a band. And perhaps more importantly, I like being in this band. Which works out well because they like having me there, too.

So Owen and I have kind of gotten into this routine of taking a mid-afternoon nap on my couch together. I promise you, there is very little in this world that is nicer than taking a mid-afternoon nap on the couch with your cat. If you have the means, I highly suggest trying it out.

Mmm...pudding...

Hi, Slovenia! Welcome!

Okay, as Nice Guy Eddie would say, first things mutha fuckin' last.

I love my stylist. I can just go in there (with an appointment, of course, because he's very popular, talented and busy) and say, "Make me pretty" and he always does. He comes up with fun, flirty styles for me that still work for me, you know? And he's very personable and fun to talk to. I think he has fun playing with my hair, too. And he remembers who I am. Not just because he saw my name in the appointment book; he remembers what the last role I was working on was and so on and so forth. He's just...yeah. I never knew the value of a good stylist before and now I do. If you need somebody, let me know and I'll give you his name and number. He just rocks. He could turn me into a salon addict, who goes every month just to make herself feel good.

And I did a singing telegram today. I had so much fun doing it. Putting the whole thing together. Writing the lyrics, recording a CD of it, and then going and performing it today. If you know of anyone who needs a singing telegram, let me know. That could be a whole other side buisness.

And now I'm treating myself to Thai food. Because I really think today will be made much better with the addition of large quantities of rice, vegetables, and tofu. Not that today's a bad day; quite the opposite. But really, what day isn't improved by large quantities of rice, vegetables, and tofu?

Wow! I thought that once the initial craze of clicking on the Google mapy thingy on the side there wore off, that I'd mostly just see myself clicking on my own site in Chicago. And a lot of the more "exotic" places have disappeared off the map. But I'm amazed that some of you are coming back and clicking again! England, Egypt, Argentina, Germany, France, you all came back.

Thanks, guys. That makes me feel really good. Now here's another thing for you to click on if you haven't already...Enjoy!

I hate to say it, but I don't think it's quite fair of the President to keep making the "this is how things have to be in wartime" type excuses when he himself declared the war over three years ago. I saw it. It was a very stilted speech on a very large boat where one guy was obviously given the Cliffs Notes to tell him when to applaud and when to laugh, along with a cattle prod to get the rest of the guys on the boat to laugh or applaud with him.

I'm sorry. I saw part of his press conference this morning and the guy just makes my skin crawl. It's like it's opposite day any time he opens his mouth -- you have to assume that the opposite of what he's saying is true. Dodging questions by picking on reporters. Not answering the question in front of him. And probably worst of all is that he has this speech pattern that makes you feel like he's talking down to you all of the time. I know, I know, I should learn to not take it personally when the President with the lowest IQ of any President in known history talks down to me. My bad. He still gives me the willies.

My new least favorite place to get a bruise is the side of the kneecap.

On a totally unrelated note, I have to say that while I'm loving being an artist for a living, I kind of feel like my head is going to explode from all of the music I've been learning lately. Seriously. I'm kind of on overload, learning harmonies, learning cover tunes, doing a singing telegram. And to top it all off, a new song of my own started playing around in my head last night. I'm not complaining, mind you. But I'm the kind of person who wants to learn things after the first try. But I'm having to play each of these songs twenty, thirty, forty times to get it. I know that what I'm doing is difficult, but I'm feeling like a slow learner, which, of course, doesn't help the learning process. And it makes me feel like my head asplode soon. Anyway.

But for the most part, I'm doing well. Really well. I've had some moments of such intense joy in the last month that I've just had to stop and cry for a minute. And financially, I'm okay, too. So I'll just keep on learning stuff and do the best I can with it. Two of the three shows I was working on have closed now, so I've just got the one left (and understudying in Floss) for now. We'll see what happens with Bad Seed. Anyway. I'm going to go start my day. And try to learn some music...

One of the most frightening things in the world is getting exactly what you wanted.

Fortunately, I've decided to do one thing each day that scares me.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Okay, real quick digression: it bothers me to no end that people celebrate St. Patrick's Day for a week and a half. It bothers me that every non-Irish person in the world puts on some hideous green t-shirt or hat or cheap necklace, gets bombed out of his/her gourd, and stumbles around the streets yelling "Wooooo!" at the top of his/her lungs before falling down. That does bother me, yes. St. Patrick's day is a day to celebrate being Irish. The Irish got a pretty raw deal, both over in Ireland and once they came over here to the States. And yes, the Irish like to drink, so it's only fitting that a celebration of being Irish includes alcohol and bad food. But I don't think it should be a week-long drunk fest for all kinds of idiots who know nothing about Irish history. I'm not an expert by any means, but I know a little. And I do have Irish blood running in my veins. So I drink a Guinness, wear something green, and for one day, I take immense pride in the fact that I'm Irish. (Okay, I take pride in being Irish all year round because I really do like being Irish, but on St. Patrick's day, I think about all of the stereotypes and nasty names Irish people were called and pretend for a minute that being Irish is a bad thing, but I'm going to be proud of it anyway.)

So happy St. Patrick's Day everyone. Drink a Guinness or some Jamesons, kiss somebody, and wear green underwear. And tomorrow, please go back to being your regular Italian, Korean, Philipino, Cuban, Nigerian, etc. selves. Take pride in that.

Okay, random thing that bugs me. Besides the fact that we're halfway through March and they're saying we're going to get two to four inches of snow tomorrow. Mother Nature, why have you forsaken us?

Anyway. The year is written like this: 2006. People insist on pronouncing that "twenty-oh-six." When do you ever pronounce 2006 as "twenty-oh-six?" If someone writes you a check for $2006, do you say they gave you "twenty-oh-six dollars?" No! They gave you two thousand six dollars. Hell, I'd even be happier with two thousand and six, even though that's not technically correct either. This one is starting to irritate me almost as badly as people who "try and" do something instead of "try to" do something. It's just wrong! We don't live in "twenty-oh-six." We live in "two thousand six."

This entry brought to you by the letter zero. As in I am one. A big one. For getting so worked up about how people pronouce numbers.

So for those of you who don't know, we've been having some pretty wacky weather in Illinois for the last 24 hours. Ish. There were dozens of tornados last night, and a possible micro burst or something like that. Crazy stuff. And the winds...yes, this is the Windy City, but the wind is knocking down trees and power lines and ripping off roofs and stuff. It's nuts. Incidentally, is "roofs" the proper pluralization of "roof?" Hoof becomes hooves. Should roof become rooves? Anyway.

As a result of all of this crazy weather (I think), my bedroom light once again turns on. Without flipping the switch 87 million times. Second try and bam! It was on. And, my computer magically connected to a now non-existent wireless network just long enough for me to download the Mac OS X 10.4 upgrade that I've been trying (unsuccessfully) to download over a dial-up connection for the last three weeks. So strange.

Anyway. I have to go to band practice now. Wish me luck!

I just wanted to say a quick congratulations to my cousin and her wife, and thank you for letting me be a part of your day. It was absolutely beautiful and I wish you joy for years and years and years and years to come.

Side note: best wedding ever! They had vegan food. Even a vegan cake. Do you have any idea how nice it is to go to a wedding and have a big, full, savory, excellent, filling meal? Yeah.

So I'm not sure what all I really have to say, but I felt like I should say something. I joined a band. I flubbed yet another singing audition today. Two shows are just about to end. My cousin is getting married tomorrow. I made fake chicken salad today and the proportions in the recipe were weird (again) so it turned out to be a little too horseradishy. And for all those of you who keep asking if I've lost weight, the answer is yes. The scale continues to go down, which is kind of cool. And the weather was really nice today. And I'm kind of in love with my song Skyrocket. And I'm still hanging out with my new friend. Who I'll have to come up with a new name for soon because we're going on a month, and that's not really new anymore, now is it? And it's really hard to play for three hours for people who aren't paying attention. But thank you to all the little kids who just can't help but dance. And I got recognized the other day for my role as Leroy the janitor.

I think that's why I feel weird about my audition today. They have seen me play so many characters, and so many kinds of characters, that I read the character descriptions for the show and I have no idea in what role they would picture me. I think I may have escaped type casting in my theater company. Which is cool, but weird. I probably could play any of the roles. But do they want me to is the question? I dunno. We'll see. If I'm cast, fantastic. I'll have a blast. If I'm not cast, I'm sure I'll find other ways to spend my time.

I gotta take my contacts out. They're killing me.

My website is up and running! KittyMortland.com is up and running! Go check it out! It's really fun!

And a HUGE thank you goes out to the designer/programmer of the whole thing, Daniel Fischer. He has put in so much hard work to make sure the page would run smoothly and to allow me to update it myself so I don't have to pester him for every little thing. I think it's really beautiful and fun and I am SO grateful to him for putting it all together. Thank you, Daniel!

Go explore the site! There is more on the way, but go take a look and have fun!

So if there is an activity more boring than backing up everything one has on one's computer, I haven't found it.

Finally! A good singing audition!

I auditioned to be the background vocalist in this band tonight. I really like them, both as people and as musicians. I think it would be a lot of fun to sing with them, and to be honest, I could see them kind of geeking out at how cool it sounded to have another vocalist, and that felt really good. I didn't choke. I impressed them. If anything, my schedule is going to screw me. I hope it doesn't, though. I hope I at least get to try playing with this band for a little bit. Music alone is wonderful, music shared with others is magical.

Speaking of which, I was futzing around with Garage Band today (the most wonderful program I own), and I recorded "Skyrocket." I'm kind of in love with it. It is totally over produced, but it is so much fun! I am, as we speak, uploading it to my MySpace page so you can have a listen if you want. I keep listening to it over and over and over and over again. I know it's distasteful to be so in love with one's own art, but the fact that I made a song like this...and really, only the drum tracks were taken from Garage Band. And the one little bit of bass. The rest of it I created, with various effects used on my voice and guitar. I like the way it sounds. I think it would be a bitch to play live, especially for the drummer. But until I actually get a band together, I shouldn't worry about that, right? Pop on over. Take a listen. It's a fun song, born from my desire to be in a rock band, and my less than perfect experiences with...a sort of censorship. Let's just leave it at that.

Enjoy!

Okay, the second worst injury you can get that you feel like a jackass complaining about is when you cut your fingernails too short and then throughout the course of your regularly scheduled activities, you do something that makes your finger separate from your fingernail, just a teeny, tiny little bit. I did that last night with both my pointer and middle fingers on my left hand and I felt like a total invalid. The worst injurty you can get that you feel like a jackass complaining about, of course, is a paper cut to the knuckle. NOT FUN.

Anyway, I'm going to toot my own horn for a minute here. I played a show last night with four other bands, all of whom were female. A ladies' night, if you will. And the first band was amazing. The second band...she was obviously a Liz Phair fan as of Liz's self-titled album. I think she has potential, but I really wanted to take her aside and say, "Honey, dirty words do not a good song make." Yes, I use foul language in my songs, but every time I use the word "ass," it means something, you know? And lyrically, substituting "butt" just doesn't fit. That's why I use dirty words. That's why Liz Phair used them, too. It's funny. A lot of people think of "Fuck and Run" as this supremely dirty song, but take an actual listen to it. The only objectionable word is "fuck" and it is said eight times. Other than that, it's a song about the awkwardness of the morning after a one night stand. It's a pretty intense song; people just fixate on the "fuck." So yeah, I wanted to take this artist aside and talk to her about songwriting. Which made me think about my own songs. Again last night, a half dozen men came up to me after the show to say they really liked my tunes. Men. I never in a million years would have thought that men would like my songs. Granted, I thought it would be a stretch for women to like them, too, but I thought women could at least relate. But I guess that's what it is about my music -- it is accessible. It is in a language that people in general can relate to or understand. It is flowery at times, but it's not so flowery that you can't figure out what the song is about. And I think people also appreciate that not all of my songs sound the same. They're not all the same tempo. They're not all the same strum. They're not all the same chords, just played with the capo on a different fret. I think I have managed to put together an interesting, engaging, varied set that has a little something for everyone. Yay me!

So yeah, interesting night last night. Like I said, the first band was amazing. I think she and I turned out to be the highlights of the night. The third and fifth bands were pretty cool, too. But mostly, it felt good to play a full set of all my own songs in a dark bar where people were paying attention, but also enjoying an evening out with their friends. Thanks to the Big Horse Lounge for having me out, and thanks to everyone who came out to listen, especially those who stuck around long enough to hear me.

I like to play.

Oh! And I forgot. Yay for the Cubbies winning their spring training game yesterday. I know, I know, it's just spring training, but it's always nice to see my boys win. Especially when the other Chicago baseball team lost both of their spring training games over the weekend. I know, I know, that's me being bitchy. My new friend though is a big Sox fan, so I have to rub it in his face a little when they do badly, just so he'll stop singing "Defending world champions!" at the top of his lungs. Tee hee.

Hooray for almost baseball season! Less than a month to opening day.

Hey.

Sorry, I've been kind of absent for a few days. Things are getting hectic. I haven't stopped thinking about you, though, and I miss our little chats. Honestly, I do. So here's some random stuff I've been wanting to share with you.

As unappetizing as recycled toilet paper is, it's hard to pass up at twenty-five cents per roll.

I'm tired. So tired my eyes are burning.

I miss being on the computer all day. Kind of. But not really.

My gig on Friday went really well.

I'm nervous about my show tomorrow.

I'm wondering when things will slow down, or if they will ever slow down. I'm wondering if that's a bad thing.

Two of my three plays are almost over -- one I will be sad to see end, the other, not so much. But another one just opened. And I'm auditioning for another one next weekend. So yeah, keeping busy.

Way too much to do and not enough time to do it, so I think I'm going to go sleep next to my cat because I've been missing him lately, too.

But all in all, things are good. Really good. I'm very happy and that kind of scares me. Oh well.

Not to sound pessimistic, but if Dubya didn't get impeached for lying about weapons of mass destruction, do you honestly think he's going to be impeached for lying about what he knew before Katrina hit?

I'd love to think that the tape released by the Associated Press would mean something. I'd love to think that it would be the smoking gun everyone is liking to claim it is. But if we've seen anything in the past six years, we've seen that our current administration is really frickin' good at 1) doling out misinformation to cover their asses and 2) diverting our attention to other, trivial matters until we forget about the really important stuff that is at hand.

Please let this tape help.

Helloooooooooo Argentina! Welcome to the madness! Are you giving up anything for Lent?

Happy March, everybody!

Where the heck has the year gone already, huh? And when is it going to get warm out, for crying out loud? And by warm, I don't mean mid-40's. I mean mid-80's. Yeah, I'm ready for summer. Open my windows, wear tank tops, so hot you can't sleep kind of summer. Bring it!

Sorry.

Happy March, everybody!

Man, I feel guilty now about spending time online. I used to do this all day every day! Now I feel like there are a million other things I need to be doing.

I need to sit back, relax, and enjoy my unemployment for a little while, you know? Not panic about needing to hit it big right away. I have things in the works. I have gears turning. I have enough money for right now. I have enough skills that I can find something productive to do later. I just feel...I dunno. Like I need to be doing more. More than teching two shows, performing in two shows, playing every Friday at lunch time, and gearing up for three gigs in the next six weeks.

I should go practice...

So I believe I have discovered the secret to gourmet cooking: it is all in the naming of the dish. See, I was feeling saucy in my kitchen today, so I cooked up some quinoa (the only grain that contains all the essential amino acids) in vegetable broth with almonds, then stir-fried (lightly) some orange bell pepper, red onion, garlic, mushrooms, and kidney beans in sesame oil. Salt and pepper to taste, of course. And when the quinoa was done, I threw that in with the veggies for a gentle warming over. Plated some up with a couple grape tomatoes for garnish/cool, juicy flavor, and voila! Brand new dish (for me) that was yummy and healthy. Now, if I were to name this dish "Monday Afternoon" because I invented it on a Monday afternoon, it would maybe find a home at a Denny's or other similar restaurant alongside the grits and various scramble plates. If I call it "Organic Quinoa with Spring Vegetables and Almonds," suddenly, it belongs at some fancy schmancy restaurant downtown where they'll charge you an arm and a leg for it even though it only cost me about three dollars. If that. The box of quinoa was about two bucks, but I only used part of it, 'cuz that's a lot of quinoa.

Anyway. If you want to be a gourmet chef, name your foods based on the ingredients therein.

That is all.

So I left my job because I didn't want to spend all day every day in front of a computer. So I now wake up in the morning and log on to my computer...

So I'm exhausted and have a lot going on in my head, but I don't know how much of it I actually want to post here, but in some ways I really feel like writing, so I think I'll talk around some of it for a while. I am going to be vauge, and if you email me asking for more info, you probably won't get it. Just so you know. This entry is more for me.

I keep having these "I have no money" moments. Which isn't exactly true. I'm fine for the next couple of months. But after six years of budgeting oneself down to the cent, knowing how much you can spend each day until your next paycheck, to not have that next paycheck coming in...it's weird. Normally, I'd be doing really good at this point in the month, to still have this kind of money in the bank. But I can't just divide it by twenty five or whatever, because that next big paycheck isn't coming. I will get a small paycheck next Friday for my gig yesterday. That will be nice. And I have a couple more gigs of my own on the books for the next month or so, so that's good. And a couple more shows out in the burbs that I'll get paid for. And I'm still waiting on my vacation pay-out, which apparently they couldn't even process until I took Simon back. Which I did. On Friday. It was really sad to see him go. And I'm wondering if I should go ahead and start looking for some stupid part time work. I'm not going to just yet, but the thought is there.

And I'm wondering what exactly it is I'm doing. And why me? Then again, why not me? But is it just because I happened to be there? Is that still the motivation or is it turning into something else? And why the hell am I even thinking about that now? Because other people seem to be encouraging me to do so. I do one thing out of the ordinary and everybody has to weigh in on it. Maybe it is all a crock; I don't know. But by the same token, isn't it my right to find out? Everybody else gets to do this all of the time. As long as I go in with my eyes open, what right does anyone else have to tell me what I should or shouldn't be doing? I do value other people's opinions, yes. But ultimately, my opinion trumps anyone else's when it comes to how I'm going to live my life. Maybe I am setting myself up for disappointment or hurt. I'm okay with that. I think. I know if that's where it goes, I'll kick myself in the ass for years, because I knew it was coming and I didn't stop it. But who knows? Maybe it is just because I was there. But maybe it is turning into a pleasant surprise that could be a lot of fun for a while. I don't know. I hate second guessing it. I hate getting excited about it. I just like experiencing it for what it is.

And that being said, or not said, as the case may be, I think I'm going to get another beer. See, I'm exhausted because I haven't slept much this week. But you know how sometimes you get so tired you can't fall asleep and then Forrest Gump is on television and seeing as you haven't seen it in years, you feel obliged to watch it and your friend calls and reminds you that alcohol is a depressant and having a beer might help you fall asleep and seeing as your brain isn't functioning properly in the first place because you're so tired you decide to give it a shot and then you have one which reminds you that you should have another? Yeah. It's time for another.

Sleep well, everybody.

Oh! And Cub tickets go on sale today. Hooray!

Hi.

So I played my first gig at the sammich place and let's just say I've played better. When I was missing a string on my guitar and had laryngitis. No, it wasn't really that bad. But it wasn't really that good, either. I dunno. Patrons still smiled at me and stuff. There was one point, when I was playing some Cat Stevens, when these two little girls got up and actually started dancing. I almost melted. And the manager said what he heard sounded good, but he doesn't really get to listen as he's running around taking care of customers and whatnot. And on the up side, they didn't fire me on the spot. But that was a hard gig.

Next week will be better. I'll have a whole other week to build up better calouses, learn more tunes, and to remember to bring sound equipment, because apparently when I heard him say this particular location couldn't handle sound equipment, he meant something else entirely. So yeah. I wasn't fired. Which is good. And I will get paid for it, which is also good. But this is going to be really hard.

And I think I just might have to soothe my aching fingers (and throat) with some Thai food. I think.

So the sad part about this new addition to my family (Chester) is that it means I have to give Simon back. My laptop. So cute. So shiny. He went to Europe with me. I remember when I first brought him home, I logged onto the internet and emailed a friend in England because I figured if I could send an email to England, then it had to really be working. He looks so sad now with all of his files deleted. So empty.

Thank you, Simon, for being such a good friend to me for the past few years. I hope wherever you wind up, you wind up with someone who really loves you and uses you to your fullest potential. You certainly deserve it.

So long, my friend.

Okay, so the new toy I've been talking about? It's my Mac mini. Appropriately enough, his name is Chester. One of my really good friends in high school had a younger brother named Chester, but I don't think that's where my Mac mini got his name, seeing as I haven't talked to that friend in an extraordinarily long time and the last time I did talk to that friend, my Mac mini was not yet born. But yeah, his name is Chester. He still needs a little work to make him all pretty and stuff, but he's pretty cute as he is. And I don't know how much you guys know about Firewire cables, but they ROCK! Or, they ROXORS MY SOXORS as the kids are saying these days. Are the kids still saying that? I don't know. Anyway, Firewire cables are brilliant. I was able to transfer all of my documents and pictures and my entire iTunes library from my laptop to Chester in about an hour and a half with the use of one Firewire cable. Brilliant, that.

Anyway, so yeah, I am now posting to my blog from Chester, for the very first time. I hope he's around for a while. I think we could have some serious fun together.

Hooray for new toys!

So one of my theater company members made my day yesterday. A couple of years ago, she embarked on a diet that resulted in her losing, I think, sixty pounds, and she has kept it off. She looks fabulous. Not that she wasn't beautiful before, but I can tell that she has a lot more confidence and so on and so forth since she dropped the weight. She told me yesterday that when she was losing the weight, she wondered what her body would look like as she got smaller, and she hoped she would look like me. She hoped her body would be the same shape as mine.

I think that's the nicest compliment I've received in a long time.

Hey.

Okay, I'll write more than one sentence today. Sorry about that.

Today is the first day that I feel unemployed. But technically, I'm not. I'm still working on the show out in the suburbs, and on Friday, I was hired to play music at Potbelly's on Fridays at lunchtime. So I do have a job. I need a couple more, but I do have a job. Just not the one I hated for so long. And I have to say, it was really nice to sleep in this morning. Really nice to not have to worry about coming home from the 'burbs and go instantly to bed so I wouldn't be dead at work in the morning. And I have to tell you, it feels really good to be unemployed. I do have a little bit of the money paranoia going on, but it's not horrible yet.

And on that note, I hate to do this, but I have to cut this short and run away to get more accessories for my new toy. I promise I'll tell you more later.

Be well!

I stepped on the scale this morning (as much as I hate to admit it) and the number was smaller than it has been in years. w00t.

It is a very sad day when my cell phone becomes more reliable than my home phone.

So if you've seen Moulin Rouge, you'll know what I intend to sound like when I say, "Everything's going so well!" The fat guy who owns the place. You know who I'm talking about. Anyway. Yeah, it's almost frightening how well things are going. I almost don't want to talk about any of it for fear I might jinx it. But I will tell you this: I got the job playing at a certain sandwich shop chain on Fridays from 11:30-2:30 pm. The starting pay isn't quite what I thought it would be (great hourly wage, but when you only play 3 hours a week, it doesn't add up very fast), but there is potential for raises and so on and so forth. They loved it that I learned some Beatles for this week because someone requested it last week. Anyway. I have at least one gig a week. Yay! I'm an official, paid musician! Now I just have to hit up a few other locations and fill in my other days...

Oh! And if you have any suggestions for songs I should learn, let me know. I need lots of material, people! (I have a lot, but I could use more so I'm not playing the same exact set every week. You understand.)

But yeah. Day two and no regrets about leaving my job.

Hello, my fabulous readers. How are you today? Is it icky outside where you are, too? It's kinda rainy and gloomy here. I, of course, am not really noticing because I have this giant dumbass grin on my face.

I don't have to go to work anymore. Well, not at that job, anyway. Like my Texas friend said, I do still have a job, just a different one. And it's one I'm really looking forward to. And I got a great send off yesterday. Not from the people at work, but from the people I hung out with afterwards. My theater friends. My theater groupie friend. My new drummer friend.

Yeah, I think that's all I'm going to say about that in public. But let's just say day one of no more office job is fantastic. I can't even tell that it's raining.

And we're down to the last day. And I'm SO happy to be leaving this place. I've got my stuff packed up and I'm pretty much ready to go. I don't know if I'll stick around the whole day or not.

There's been a new wrench thrown into my plans, but it will result in me buying a new toy, probably today after work. It's an annoying expense, but a necessary one, and I think it will be a good move. I'll tell you more about that later.

And, here's the exciting part: my website should be ready to launch by week's end. My actual website! A site all about me with pictures and music and a calendar and (of course) my blog and all of that stuff, thanks to the fabulous husband of my beautiful Texas friend. I'll let you all know when it goes live, of course, but keep an eye out 'cuz it's coming up very very soon.

So yeah. I'm leaving here with a lot of bad feelings, but I realized as I was driving into work this morning, that they are not feelings that are worth hanging onto or dwelling upon. I'm leaving. That's the right move. And the way I feel now just reinforces that. I will be fine. Actually, I will be more than fine. I will be happy. I just have a few hours left here and then I get to go buy a toy, do a show, and hang out with some friends. And tomorrow, I get to have lunch with my mom and I have my second audition to set me on my way to become a paid musician. I'm good.

I'm really good.

I'll talk to you all soon.

Love you.

I am SO glad I'm leaving this job.

Happy Valentine's Day, kids!

So once again, I don't have a valentine this year, but you know what? That's okay. I have a lot of friends and a lot of family who I love dearly and who love me dearly. So to all of you, I say happy Valentine's Day, and thank you for being in my life.

Now go tell everyone that you know that you love them. It's something you should do every day, but do it today, too, just because.

I love you!

T-minus three days and counting. Terror alert color: burnt sienna.

I'm not so much afraid anymore about my ability to make money without this job. I know I can do that. The wheels are already in motion to make that happen. I'm more worried about what if I forget something on my computer here? Or what if there is some e-mail that's four years old that they need once I'm gone that they can't get at? That somebody else is going to be the miserable messenger carrying my boss' mail back and forth between his two offices.

Stupid stuff to worry about, I know. But when you've been essentially useless for going on six years, and then you suddenly have to make a list of all of the things you do, you realize that you actually did a lot of stuff and now somebody else is going to have to pick up the slack and I'm not the sort to slough off my responsibilities on someone else and I feel bad about now doing so, especially since my responsibilities are so menial and stupid.

I know I'm better than my job, though. I know I deserve better. I know I'm smarter than this and more talented than this. And these things are no longer my responsibility. I just hope not a lot of heads explode when I'm not here anymore to keep them together.

Speaking of things exploding, sweet jebus, did you see Gray's Anatomy last night? Oh my goodness. I almost cried, like, six times. That's good television, that.

And I finally saw Wallace and Gromit and the Curse of the Were-Rabbit this weekend, too. Oh my god, that was cute! The bunnies! Yeah. I hope it wins the Oscar.

Anyway, where was I? Yeah, three days left. It's kind of surreal. I already have a lot to do, and I'm good at challenging and pushing myself, so I'm pretty sure I'll stay that way. It's just going to be weird. Because it's different. And it's an unknown. It will be good. And parts will be bad. But I only have three more days until I embark upon my new life as an artist. How exciting is that?

So I have to say, Friday was a pretty darn good day.

I got my car title in the mail, confirming the fact that my last payment was received, and I no longer owe any money on my car. I now own my car. Yay.

I had an audition on Friday that went really well. A musical type audition that could lead to music-related income. Yay!

The show went really well Friday night and I hung out with the cast afterwards. I have to say real quick that not everyone likes their stage manager. Often times, the stage manager is kind of a Nazi, keeping time, barking things at the cast, just generally not being friendly as he/she does his/her job. And that's fine. That's what stage managers are supposed to do. I, however, want to walk that line between keeping the cast in line and on time, and being friendly and letting them know I have a sense of humor, too. And I got confirmation on Friday that I'm doing a good job of that. I got to hang out with the cast afterwards and we chatted and it was all fun and good. So that was groovy.

And I think I got asked out on a date on Friday. The date was not on Friday, if it is in fact a date. It will be later this week. And to be honest, I don't know if it is actually a date, or if it is just a couple of friends hanging out. My Texas friend is sure it's a date. I would not be opposed to it being a date. I would not be opposed to it being a couple of friends hanging out. Either way, I'm looking forward to hanging out with this new friend/possible date person.

So yeah, I'm feeling good. I worked out yesterday and today. I have two shows in the 'burbs today, but I only have three days of work left at my current job, so that's good. And my cat is being extra cute today. Anyway. I'm doing well. I'm feeling good. I'm looking forward to a bunch of stuff coming up. Wish me luck!

I got a papercut on that little bit of skin that connects your thumb to the rest of your hand. Hurts like a bitch.

My ass is sore from working out the other day. As is my chest. And my legs.

I'm so tired I can barely see straight.

I feel fantastic.

Because really, what it all boils down to is that I'm good at what I do. And I'm smart. And organized. I can do this. And how much nicer will it be when I don't have to get up at 6:30 in the morning while I'm doing all of this? I will miss WXRT in the mornings, but my goal now should be to get on the show for an interview. Tee hee.

I feel really good today, even though I feel like crap.

You know what I mean.

T-minus five days and counting. Well, five work days. Seven actual days.

I took the day off yesterday, largely because I was desperate to do laundry. I have, essentially, been in tech for three weeks straight. Now, for those of you not in the theater world, tech week for a show is crazy. It is the week before the show opens, leading right up to opening night, and it's crazy. As an actor, it's the first time you get to work with your costumes, and it usually means lots of long hours, sitting around, waiting for the technicians to get all their shit together. As a technician, it's long hours of adjusting sound levels, adjusting the lights, making sure all the cues are written down and marked in the right place in the script, and making sure they are all doable. It is, as Dr. Frankenfurter would say, a mental mind fuck. And between the three shows I'm currently working on, I've been in tech for two of them for the past three weeks straight, culminating in the opening night of "Soft Corn Porn" last night. Which, incidently, went really well. But it is exhausting! By the time the show is over, I'm wiped. Moreso than I would be if I was performing in the show, I'm pretty sure. Also just for reference sake, typically there is a stage manager on a show who tells the light board operator and the sound board operator (two different people) when to hit their cues, and who tells the actors when to take their places and stuff like that. On both shows I'm working on that are currently open, I am the stage manager, light board operator, sound board operator, and other random tech stuff operator. It's a lot of work. A lot of fun, but a lot of work for one person. And it also means that I've had about six hours a day at home, four of which are spent sleeping. So I took the day off yesterday because I was desperate to do laundry.

And it was really nice. It was almost like a sneak preview into what my life will be like starting next week. I woke up, had a small breakfast, worked out (I'm sore and gimpy today), showered, did laundry, cleaned up a bit, set up an audition for tomorrow to set contingency plan #1 into motion, checked my e-mail, watched a couple of movies ("Corpse Bride" and "Rize" both really good films in totally different ways), and got ready to go to the theater for opening night. It was a good day. I was productive (though I think I figured out that I have already spent more on my career this year than I have brought in), yet relaxed. I got stuff done, but didn't feel horribly pressured. I didn't miss coming in to work.

I did miss the human interaction that comes with going to work. But just a little. And once I have other things to do, I'm pretty confident I'll get the interaction I want/need. I don't need much. It is just a little bit weird to go a whole day without speaking to another human being. Though I did talk to a couple of people on the phone. I'm going to have to get better at phone speak. As in, I currently hate talking on the phone. I almost never call people and it's not because I don't like people, it's because I don't like talking on the phone. But I'm going to have to get better at that. Especially if I'm going to be pimping myself all over the place. Anyway.

T-minus five days and counting. I think I'll be okay.

I think the woman down the hall from me took a bath in baby Aspirin at lunch. Oddly enough, the smell of the baby Aspirin is giving me a headache.

One of my directors gave me a Princess Leia digital watch (with hologram, thank you very much) to use while I'm stage managing the show. It's now my Stage Manager Watch. And it's even reversable, so if I don't feel like Princess Leia, I can have the Jabba the Hut side showing. I love it 'cuz it's huge and tacky and makes my wrist look tiny.