I have spent the day today sorting through my stuff, purging the unnecessaries, and putting them up online for sale. I do feel a little silly selling books online for fifty cents, but let's face it, I feel even funnier asking more for them since a couple don't even have covers on them. A lot of my stuff is in really good condition, though, and I could technically see it selling. I hope it does sell. I'd like to see this stuff go to good homes of people who will use it. And of course, if it doesn't sell, I can always donate things to the Salvation army or wherever.

And on the one hand, it feels good to be getting rid of stuff. Even though it's all sitting in boxes in my living room until someone actually bites on the sale. On the other hand, it's annoying to have all of this stuff sitting in boxes in my living room and I do feel a bit...naked. I am a bit embarrassed that I owned some of the books I'm selling off and now everyone will know I had them. And some of the random trinkets and things I'm selling are a bit silly. But I do like getting rid of stuff. I hope it sells.

If you want to take a look at the stuff I've got, it's all here I'll be adding more in the next few weeks, but I think this is a decent start for today. Unless, of course, I need something to keep me awake for the Doctor Who marathon on PBS tonight and I decide to dig even deeper into my closets. I do have a bunch of scrap fabric and crafty supplies I think I'll donate to my mom and/or her friend who uses that stuff in school art projects. Wouldn't hurt to get that straightened out...

Addendum: He walked in the office, sat down, and made a personal phone call.

I'm feeling the need to give myself a bit of a pep talk, so please bear with me as this post may sound like bragging or like I'm really self-involved or something. I don't think I am. I just need to say some nice things about me to remind myself of them.

I think a large part of my need to do this comes from my constant frustration with my job. I don't mean to talk about it here, but I have one co-worker in particular who gets away with everything - literally EVERYTHING - and when he isn't here, I have to cover for him and do his job. Which makes it really difficult to do mine. And they know it's hard for me to do my job when I have to do his, but nobody ever takes him aside and says, "Hey, dude, you gotta step it up. Kitty has other things to do and can't be relied upon to clean up your shit all of the time." As it stands, he's still not in the office this morning. He had a last minute doctor's appointment to deal with a broken foot and thought he'd be in by 10 so he wouldn't have to take a half-day on Friday afternoon to go have it looked at. Here it is 10:30 and no sign of him. I hope they dock him half a day for this morning; I really hope they do. Because even now on the days when he doesn't have an early appointment, he's not here until 9:30. Which is frustrating because I'm here at about 7:30 and it means I have to cover for him until he decides to show up. And nobody ever says anything about it to him. They know it's a problem, but they aren't the confrontational sort, so nothing gets done about it. I just get to sit and wait for him to show up so I can focus on my own tasks that need to get done.

And part of it stems from my doctor telling me I need to lose five pounds. I went in for my annual exam and she was a lot more hands-on than she has been in the past and I don't know if that's because I'm getting older so she feels she needs to pay more attention or what, but they also recently switched over to a computerized record system, so we had to rehash almost my entire medical history and the last time I let them weigh me, I weighed about five pounds less than I do now. Granted, I had lost about fourteen pounds and I have now put just about all of it back on, but I've been stressed. Really stressed. So I've been stress eating. I know this. I can't stop this just now. I try the waiting thing to see if the craving will just go away. I try drinking water first so I won't eat as much. I try eating veggies instead of the chips and salsa I really want. Doesn't work. I just keep eating. Because I'm stressed and unhappy and sometimes, cake is all that will soothe the pain for a little while. I hate to admit that, but it's true. I am 100% aware of the damage I'm doing to my figure as I stress eat, but I just keep stress eating. I don't know what to do about that as long as my stress level remains where it is.

So I need to remind myself of a couple of things so I don't get completely down on myself.

I have beautiful, long, flowing limbs. Really. Very nice elegant arms and legs.

I have a very strong, healthy body. Yes, I am carrying a couple of extra pounds at the moment, but I am still very healthy. I am (for the most part) very active and strong and my muscles work well and all of that stuff. This body has been through a lot, and so far, I think it is doing rather well, regardless of it's current mass.

I am really talented. Really talented. I'm pretty good at just about everything I do and the things I don't know how to do, I learn really fast. I was invited to a "by teacher invite only" acting for film class (that I'm not taking due to scheduling conflicts), but still, I consider that an honor to be invited.

I am the sort of person other people like having around. I am personable and social (when I need to be) and in general, easy to talk to.

I am very much loved.

There are much better things waiting just around the corner for me. I may be unhappy now, I may be frustrated and stressed, but this is not permanent. I will enter a whole new world of frustration and stress, but in the name of better things.

And my co-worker just got here at 10:43, so now I can get to doing my job. Because I'm good at my job, too.

I dreamed an episode of Doctor Who last night that, I believe, doesn't exist.

It started in the TARDIS with the usual exposition and sort of a "Now we're going to be landing on this planet at this time" kind of a thing and then we were down on the planet. I know it was in the future and I know it was a different planet, but I don't know how far in the future or the name of the planet. What I do know is that there was a very nice landing platform for us just outside of a sort of intergalactic marketplace. This landing platform was in an area that reminded me of a social hall kind of place at college, or the green room at college in the theater department, or SA hall in high school - the kind of place where people would just go chill out for a while when they were trying to kill time before they had something else to do. So the Doctor and I (because I was his companion) come out of the TARDIS and suddenly, David Tennant is also there as the Doctor. I don't think he was my Doctor - I think this was a trip that he and Rose took wherein he met his future self (the Matt Smith Doctor), but somehow everyone was okay with that. Anyway, we were just kind of chilling and this issue of Cosmopolitan falls from the ceiling with a nice thwack and we all go over to look at it because, of course, the two Doctors are unfamiliar with Cosmo and are intrigued with the sex articles referenced on the cover. On the cover is also a picture of Katherine Heigl, which was odd, because I think I was Katherine Heigl in my dream because I knew the picture was of me and I was going to get all kinds of crap for appearing on the cover of Cosmo. Anyway, we start looking at the magazine until we hear that there is this nice, noisy marketplace just over there and we decide to go take a look at that instead. Round about this time, Rose Tyler comes bounding in asking what's going on and she joins us as we go into the marketplace.

Somewhere in here, the Matt Smith Doctor just kind of went away. I don't remember him really serving any other function in the dream other than I knew I'd have to go back with him at the end of the whole thing. But I was so fantastically geeked to be working with the David Tennant Doctor that I'm sure I was smiling too much and just in general freaking him out, but I really didn't care. I couldn't stop staring and I was so excited. His face was a bit fatter than it is in real life, but it was fine. He was wearing the brown suit with the thin blue pinstripes and I couldn't stop thinking about how perfect that all was.

Anyway, Rose went off to look around a bit and I was hanging out with the Doctor and then we heard people shouting about this kid who was walking up the railing next to the escalators into the marketplace. You know on really wide staircases, they'll put a railing in the middle that is sort of a steel oval mounted on steel legs, so people on either side can have a railing but it doesn't take up too much walking space? There was a kid who had apparently walked all the way to the bottom on this railing and was now walking all the way back to the top, on tiptoe, as if he was on a tightrope and everyone was frightened that he would fall to his death or something. But he was smiling and sure of himself and looked to be possessed. And then we noticed a whole slew of kids walking up and down this railing, looking possessed, their arms out like airplane wings for balance. And this was the thing that, of course, signaled that something was not right in the marketplace or that something bad was coming. This fog started rolling in, so we tried to herd everyone into the market so we could close the doors, but these crazy sort of wicker people aliens got into the market, too. They were the bad guys, you could just tell. Or at least the minions of the real big bad guy. And I don't mean wicker people as in they looked like wicker chairs, but more along the lines of "He must have been King of the Wicker People" from Batman mixed with the Cyberman dog thing from "The New Doctor" with a sort of African tribal mask flair. They didn't talk, but they moved very fast and very fluidly and were actually very threatening. They were trying to get people into the fog because The Eternals were waiting in the fog to take us away to some unknown doom. If someone got too close to the doors, the fog would creep in under the door (as fog does) and you could see these sort of creepy, long-fingered green hands pull the person down into the fog and out of our world. Of course, the fog would not then recede - it started filling up the marketplace and everyone was scared and we were trying to figure out what to do. And then Rose, gotta love Rose (who might have been me for a second or two - you know how dreams are), started sort of taunting the lead wicker guy to get him to chase her and she ran over in front of one door and started this speech about how she is eternal so the Eternals can't touch her (it was kind of like the speech she gave when she looked into the heart of the TARDIS at the end of season one but without the glowing eyeballs, wind, and tears) and the fog was rolling in around her feet and she was dragged down, but then the camera angle switched to a shot from above where we saw the creepy green hands sort of clawing and pawing at her while she was curled in a ball on the floor and no matter what they did, they couldn't take her away.

I don't remember really what happened after that, but shortly thereafter, my cat woke me up. I know that there would have to be some resolution to the situation if it was a real episode - we'd need to know why the Eternals were attacking the marketplace and how and why they were possessing the children. But I thought it was a pretty sweet episode. Visually stunning. And, I have to say, I was really geeked to be working with David Tennant. I was really happy that he was back to being the Doctor. All I really saw of the Matt Smith Doctor in my dream was that he looked a bit put out that the David Tennant Doctor was there so he was going to go off and pout or something.

Anyway. Maybe I'll actually write it as a script and see if they'd have any interest in shooting it. Tee hee. That's how I'll get into the Doctor Whoniverse - as a script writer.

Rabbit rabbit, happy July.

I can't believe it's July already. Yipes.

So my dreams have been really...violent lately. Not violent as in people getting beaten up or killed or anything like that, but violent in the sense that I'm all riled up when I wake up. I feel unsatisfied, anxious, restless and exhausted. There is usually some element in my dreams of me wanting to do something but not being able to. I think last night, I was getting married and none of it was working out. The night before, I dreamed I was at a dance in the park downtown and I couldn't get any of my guy friends to dance with me - some of them didn't even acknowledge that I was there.

I know some people don't remember their dreams at all and are a bit jealous that I can remember mine. I sometimes get jealous of the people who can sleep through the night and wake up feeling rested instead of feeling like they just lived another really frustrating day. I know that dreams are the mind's way of working through things that weren't addressed during daylight hours and I guess this means I have a lot of pent up stuff going on at the moment which I need to address so I can get some sleep. Either that, or I should get drunk before bed so my brain just shuts off.

In either case, I hope you are sleeping well and happy July to you!

I've been feeling for a couple of days like it's time for me to reflect on the past year and examine what I did and what I didn't do and all of that stuff and kind of take stock. These things happen as you get older.

In the past year, I think I wrote one new song. I didn't play out very much, nor was I in any theatrical productions. I understudied one show, but didn't get to perform. I took a lot of classes, though, and I think I grew a lot as an artist thanks to those classes. I also met and worked with a bunch of people there who I love dearly and hope to work with again in the future.

In the past year, I think I kissed three boys (not counting kisses in my acting class because those don't really count - it's acting class). One of them decided the next day that he would rather not make out with me ever again and seeing as this was the third time he played my emotions like that, I've decided not to talk to him anymore. I don't think he has noticed. Another one was, I think, just a case of bad timing. Good guy, but I don't see it going anywhere, unfortunately. Not now, anyway. The third was just plain silly. The kind of funny thing about this bit is that I went to the doctor yesterday for my annual exam and she asked if I had any "concerns" and I had to laugh, largely at what would be required to make me concerned. Divine intervention or something. Anyway. Sad times on the boy front this year.

In the past year, I went to the emergency room and decided that I never want to have to go to the emergency room again. And I also found out that I don't have tumors on my knees like the one on my head. For whatever that's worth.

In the past year, I fell in love with my brand new niece. She'll be one on Friday and is just about the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life. I wish I got to spend more time with her, but she's going to be around for a while. I can't wait to see her grow up!

In the past year, I worked really hard and finally, finally, finally got about a half-an-ounce of recognition for it. I realize that a lot of people work really hard, but if one's supervisors just say "Thank you" or "Nice job" every now and again to recognize that, it goes a long way. I got a "nice job."

In the past year, I set a plan in motion to begin the next chapter of my life. A lot of you know about it already, and full details are coming, but suffice it to say I'm excited and terrified all at the same time, but I know it's the right thing to do. It feels good to be on this path.

In the past year, I got an iPhone and I love it.

In the past year, I hung out with family and friends. I spent time being a pillow for my cat. I listened to my best friend when she really needed me to. I helped people whenever I could. I became a fan of Scrabble-type games, and I started to learn about futbol.

In the past year, I fell in love with Doctor Who.

The past year was hard for me in a lot of ways. I spent a lot of it being very unhappy. I think some of that is still hanging around because I'm grumpy today. But I know that changes are coming and that's a good thing. My doctor told me I should try to lose about five pounds. In the coming year, I'm going to try to lose five pounds of worry and fear and anger. At least five.

So here's to a brand new year for me. And here's hoping it is happier than the last one. For all of you, too.

So I'm kind of amazed at how easily I can get sucked into sporting events. Maybe I really am a competitive person by nature, or maybe I just like to watch people do things that I don't do, or maybe I was a sports star in a past life, but I find it really easy to get into sporting events. For example, the World Cup. I know virtually nothing about futbol. I sucked at it when we played in gym class - I've always been more of a baseball/softball player. But there is all this super crazy fun happening around the World Cup and I have to say, it is exciting. I went online and read some of the Laws of the Game so I have a bit of a clue now, and now I'm waking up in the morning thinking about who's playing what matches today and who I'd like to cheer for. I'm looking at group standings trying to determine if anyone has been mathematically eliminated or guaranteed a spot in the knock-out stage yet. And I'm trying my best to pay attention to the games as they happen (online updates, that kind of thing) so I can start to get a feel for the game and I have to say, it's exciting. Yes, it is a low-scoring sport, but that doesn't mean there isn't action. And yes, some of the players are whiny drama queens who trip over their own feet and try to blame it on an opponent who was passing by at the time, but still. It's fun.

And when the US won today in stoppage time, well, that was a pretty incredible moment. I am annoyed with the US for having two goals taken away for having a player offsides (seriously, do you not know where you are on the field? And where your opponents are? How can you be that oblivious? I realize spacial relationships are not American strong points, as is evidenced by people stopping in doorways or at the bottom of stairs when there are hundreds of people behind them or people altering their walking paths so that they bump into me on the sidewalk (though that one may be partially due to the gravitational field generated by my rear end), but still. You'd think that practicing futbol however many hundreds of hours would make you aware of where your teammates are at any given time and where your opponents are at any given time. I'm just saying.), and it looked like all was lost, but then bam! With three minutes remaining in stoppage time, score! And with that score, we advance. Without that score, we go home. It's exciting. I'm sorry, but it is.

Anyway. I'm enjoying the World Cup. Particularly since the Cubs are sucking the life out of north side baseball right now. I gotta have somebody to cheer for, right?

(I still love the Cubs, they're just hurting my heart right now.)

So I'm almost wishing I knew more about futbol. Yes, I meant to say futbol. I mean to distinguish it from American Football, which my friend and I contend should be named Tackleball, as they spend WAY more time tackling one another than they spend doing anything with their feet (besides walking around and stuff, but a lot of sports use feet in that respect, so I'm not counting that). By futbol, I mean the sport that the rest of the world calls football, but we here in the US call soccer. Which I'm sure confuses small children when they find out that the world soccer organization's acronym is FIFA and contains no "s" for "soccer." Anyway. That was sort of long and rambling.

I'm almost wishing I knew more about futbol because the World Cup is happening right now in South Africa and I keep seeing all these news article updates about this team upsetting that team and these people getting arrested for wearing that and this guy was so excited he took his shirt off in celebration (which is always what I do when I'm happy) and they got really pissed at him for doing it and that guy scored a goal that left this guy bleeding from the head and in general, the whole thing looks to be a boatload of super crazy fun. It amuses me almost to no end that if you get the live online updates of a game, it tells you if goal kicks and penalty kicks were made right-footed or left-footed. And some of the pictures they show of so-and-so's face as his team scored in extra time (which some people think shouldn't count) to get his country's first ever World Cup goal are just priceless. The absolute jubilation is infectious.

My brother's friend explained to me kind of how it works, with the groups and points and all of that stuff. In a weird way, it makes more sense and seems more fair than March Madness, though I don't know if the groups are selected arbitrarily or what. Anyway. It sounds like super crazy good fun times and I kind of wish I knew enough about the sport to speak intelligently about it. As it stands, I'll just have to cheer for countries that I like, whether their clubs have any history of doing well at the Cup or not. And/or I'm going to cheer for anyone who upsets a heavy favorite because that just makes it all so much more dramatic.

Yay futbol!

A lot of people have a lot of things to celebrate. In the past four or five years, I have been to wedding showers, baby showers, weddings, engagement parties, bachelorette parties, birthday parties, anniversary parties, "I'm leaving town" parties, "I'm back in town" parties, Fourth of July parties, Memorial Day parties, Labor Day parties, New Year's Eve parties, Halloween parties, Christmas and Hanukkah parties, a Passover seder, beer pong tournaments, random "let's drink 'cuz it's hot/cold/pretty/icky outside" parties, housewarming parties, "I felt like having people over because I never have people over" parties, "I'm finally single again" parties, and at least two "proms." That's a lot of celebrating. As humans, I think we like to celebrate. We're always looking for a reason to spread around the good fortune.

And we all know I have a thing about holidays. I don't believe in making them week-long or month-long ordeals. I think St. Patrick's Day should be celebrated on March 17th. I think Flag Day should be observed on June 14th. Granted, I don't get too upset when Labor Day and Labor Day (Observed) don't match up because that one still gets me a Monday off of work, so I can get behind that. But I'm all about celebrating things on the day they are supposed to be celebrated.

Thing is, I haven't celebrated Me in a long time. A friend of mine threw me an awesome blow-out birthday party about eight years ago and since then, it's all been rather low key. I threw a closing night party for a show I was in. My birthdays have been a handful of friends meeting for drinks or dinner or something. I don't have any relationship anniversaries to celebrate. I'm not a mother or father, so I can't get in on those days. I'm not a veteran, so there's two more I don't qualify for. I don't have a kid, so no baby showers or kid's first birthdays or anything. I'm not really an administrative assistant anymore, but even if I was, my company doesn't pay attention to those kinds of things. I haven't survived some dread disease, so I don't have the anniversary of a surgery or anything to celebrate. I haven't won any awards or sweepstakes contests or anything. And I have just a one bedroom apartment with no outdoor space, so the big summer holidays really shouldn't happen at my house. Nor the big winter holidays for that matter. And in my family, we're all scaling back on the big winter holidays anyway. Birthdays have been no big deal in my family for years - it's usually phone calls and maybe a card.

Which is all fine and totally understandable. But I have a lot going on in my life right now that needs to be celebrated. NEEDS to be celebrated. I know I haven't told you about all of it yet, but I'm guessing you already know because the four friends I told about it seem to have each told four friends who told four friends and so on and so on and so on so word has gotten around, but I didn't get the joy of telling some people and seeing the looks on their faces. And when I do finally get to make my big reveal, it's not going to be news anymore and nobody is going to want to celebrate with me. Which sucks. I'm sorry, but it sucks.

I'm going to sound like a three-year-old having a tantrum right now and I apologize in advance for that, but I kind of need to.

I would like to be celebrated. For one day. I would like one day that is full of people saying nice things to me and treating me nicely. I would like one day that isn't hush-hush clinking of glasses under the table with one friend at a time kind of celebrating. I would like, for one day, to be a big deal to everyone I know.

I don't mean to negate the hush-hush clinking of glasses under the table with one friend at a time - some of my fondest memories include celebrating something or another with just one or two friends. And my mother celebrates me all of the time and I love her for that (and many other reasons). But for the past couple of years, I've been feeling a bit lost in the shuffle, or glazed over in larger situations and larger settings. Maybe it is because I used to be a "name" in the swing scene and people used to get excited when they knew I was coming to town and now most people barely know who I am, but I miss the occasional fussing over. I don't want anything crazy. But I know, if I had a significant other in my life, he would buy me something pretty, or make me breakfast in bed, or take me out somewhere special for dinner and just for one day, make a wee bit of a fuss over me. Let me know I am appreciated.

I feel like I work really hard. I feel like (most of the time, anyway) I'm a nice person and a good person. I feel like every now and again, it would be nice to hear people say that.

Thing is, I have plans to go to a charity fundraiser on my birthday this year. I've gone every year for the last three or four, and it is always the weekend right around my birthday and it is supporting a cause that is very important to my best guy friend and his family, so therefore it is supporting a cause that is very important to me. I wouldn't miss it unless it was an emergency. And on the up side, I will get to dress up fancy and go out with my friends on my birthday, but it won't be about me. It shouldn't be about me. This cause is bigger and more important than me and that's a good thing. But it means that the one day each year on which I feel like I have a right to ask people to make a wee bit of a fuss over me, I've been trumped. And I have to wait until next year. Or find another day to ask people to fuss over me, which feels kind of false (see above paragraph on celebrating holidays on the appropriate day). And/or it feels like people have a perfectly legitimate reason to prioritize other things over me if I ask them to celebrate me on a day that isn't actually my birthday. The weekend before my birthday, a bunch of my friends are out of town. The weekend after is the Fourth of July, which kind of trumps everything else. You go too much farther out than that and it's no longer a birthday party, it's a random "hey, let's all hang out" thing.

Anyway. I don't know. I will be doing something later in the summer, for other reasons. And one of these years I'll get to celebrate Me again. And I'm sorry I sound like a petulant child, I just needed to bitch for a minute.

Call me crazy, but I would think that if an employee keeps messing up, and the errors keep growing in severity, I would think that said employee's supervisor should take said employee aside and say, "Hey. Shape up," or something to that effect.

Call me crazy.

A gay couple in Malawi were sentenced to 14 years in prison because they had an engagement ceremony. Fourteen years in prison for "gross indecency and unnatural acts."

Now, I realize that the culture in Malawi is different that the culture in America, but it still makes me sad. It makes me sad on so many levels.

I've been thinking about sexuality a lot lately. I saw some little tidbit tucked away on some website about another country music star coming out and honestly, all I could think was, "So?" And I don't mean that in a "don't ask, don't tell" kind of a way. I mean it in a "it makes absolutely no difference to me who you are sleeping with" kind of a way. If I liked your music before, I'm not going to like it less now that I know you're gay. If I hated your music before, I'm not going to suddenly decide to like it now that I know you're gay. Who you are sleeping with does not influence my opinion of you. AT ALL. I'm sorry, but it doesn't. So why do we all make such a big deal out of who everyone else is screwing?

Right now, I'm not sleeping with anyone, but if I was, do you think I'd be running around all over the place yelling, "I'm sleeping with David Tennant!" Well, okay, if it was David Tennant, I probably would just because, you know, David Tennant. But I think you get my point. Sex is an intimate thing, between two people, and it is nobody else's business. Yes, there are those who prefer it when there are more than two people involved, but for the most part, it's a one-on-one activity, and when the two people involved are in love with one another and committed to one another and are both old enough to know what they are consenting to, I think it's beautiful (and none of my business). I don't think it is any less beautiful (or any more my business) if the two people are of the same gender as one another. If you're lucky enough to find someone with whom you connect on that level, hold onto that! I don't care if that person is a different race than you or different religion than you or different gender than you - it's a rare and beautiful thing and you should allow yourself to experience that. And anyone who tells you it is unnatural or gross or indecent (or their business) should take a look at some of the practices in his or her own life and I'm sure, he or she will find plenty of unnatural indecencies there. Fake tans. Plastic surgery. Banana hammocks. Repression. Spousal abuse. Child abuse. Animal abuse. Religious persecution. War. People do so many things to harm one another, but are able to find justifications why it is okay to act so cruelly. Yet two men who love each other and are committed to loving each other for the rest of their lives are sent to jail for fourteen years, simply for bringing more love into the world. How does that make sense? I don't get it.

It makes me sad, too, that there are still so many people who find homosexuality abhorrent. And I know that if I ask them why they disapprove, most of the answers have a religious tinge to them - "it's against God" or "it's against nature" or "the [insert holy text here] says it's wrong." I wonder if we took all of that out of it and just looked at it as two people, two best friends, who have committed themselves to loving one another, if it would still look so wrong. Because to me, that's what it is. Two people who get to share something wonderful. I cry at gay weddings the same way I cried at my brother's. To me, it makes no difference who your partner is, as long as they are a good, kind, loving person who treats you well.

I dunno. I realize that parts of this post are offensive to some and parts seem heartless to each other. I wish we didn't have to define ourselves by who we are sleeping with. I don't care who you're sleeping with and I don't know why anybody else should care either. Personally, I'd like to subscribe to the 51st Century type of sexuality - travel the stars, meet new life, and dance with it.

Okay, so those of you who know me or at least have been reading for a while know I love my cat. He drives me crazy sometimes, but most of the time, he is the reason I get up in the morning and not just because he's meowing at my bedroom door for me to feed him. It melts my heart when he curls up in my lap to sleep. I love his little voice and how he sits on the bathroom counter while I'm getting ready in the morning like it's time for his eye make-up, too. He's just...I love my cat.

Lately, he has gotten into the habit of lying between my pillow and the edge of the bed at about 4:30 in the morning, right by my face. I don't know if he does this because it is warm there or because he's already thinking about breakfast and knows that him lying there wakes me up, but the end result is that I can put my arm around him and, essentially, spoon with my cat, my face buried in his back. It just may be my absolute favorite thing to do. It's just this really sweet, innocent, loving moment where I get to hug him and he lets me. Of course, he gets a little squirmy and he pushes his head into my face and then has to roll over onto his back so I could scritch his tummy if I was a bit more coherent and since it is 4:30 in the morning, I am still wanting to get some sleep, so inevitably, I kind of psyche him out into getting up and walking to the kitchen and I close my bedroom door and go back to sleep. This morning, he wasn't going to be fooled so easily. When I sat up like I might go feed him, he rolled over onto his side like, "But mom, I'm not done being snuggly yet." So I went back to being snuggly. For about five more minutes until I really needed to get back to sleep at which point I gently carried him out of my room.

But the long and short of it is that I love my cat. He is very sweet and he knows exactly how to get me to do what he wants. And if what he wants is some snuggly time, I'm all for obliging.

So I was thinking not too long ago that I'd like to win something. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of wonderful things in my life and wonderful things do happen to me. But usually, I have to work my butt off for those things and pour in a lot of time and energy and blood and sweat and tears. For example, the children's musical I wrote and directed was well received. But I wrote and directed it. The plays that I have gotten into have been lots of fun, but there's the audition process and the rehearsal process and all of that stuff. When it comes to randomly getting picked for something amazing, that never happens to me. I never win the lottery. I never win the contests I enter that involve randomly picking a name out of a hat. And man, I could use that kind of luck right about now.

Things at work are...weird at the moment. Weird and mind-bogglingly frustrating. I can't go into too much detail but it really is a world of suck at the moment. Which means I would really, really, really, really like to be the person who wins a trip to London, or a million dollars, or a new car or something. A spa retreat. A year's supply of lovely lovely vegan baked goods. A date with David Tennant. Something, you know? Something that I didn't have to work for, but that I can feel like all of the hard work I put in just in general, on a daily basis, is finally being rewarded with just an extra little something. A thank you. A karmic pat on the back. I would, just once, like something really nice to happen that I didn't have to lift a finger for.

A girl can dream, right?

Hi,

Thank you for coming by yesterday to work on my bathtub drain. It kind of drained this morning. The bathtub was, at least, empty by the time I left my apartment this morning. It still collects a lot of water during the course of a shower, though, and I don't take particularly long showers. Anyway. It's better than it was, thank you.

I am a little bit curious, though, regarding why it was necessary to remove my cat's litter box and the bathmat from the bathroom and leave them in the hallway. Was it that you didn't want to step on them? I'm guessing it wasn't a cleanliness thing, judging by the dirty shoe-prints left in the tub and on the floor. I'm just wondering. And also wondering if you couldn't have, I don't know, put them back before you left. Or at least positioned the litter box with the opening facing away from the wall so if my cat needed to use it, he would be able to do so. I know, I know, I'm being nit-picky.

I'm also a little curious regarding what in the drain-clearing process made the backsplash behind the sink chip, crack, and break so that it required new caulking. I'm guessing you moved all of the stuff off of my counter so as to not get cover it in caulk as you were fixing the backsplash, and I appreciate that. I also like how it was all put back exactly where it wasn't before. That was fun.

Anyhow, thank you for fixing my bathtub (sort of) and for motivating me to thoroughly mop the bathroom floor and wash all of my towels. The simple surface cleaning of the whole room, scrubbing of the bathtub, and sweeping/Swiffing of the floor that I did over the weekend just didn't do the trick.

Yours,
Kitty

I'm having one of those days wherein the future cannot come soon enough.

So I'm now three episodes into the new season of Doctor Who and I have to say, I'm not thrilled. I found myself wishing that Martha Jones would make an appearance so that the show would get a little bump of energy. And I have a theory as to what's going on.

Doctor Who has been sort of a cult hit for decades. It was a sort of low budget sci-fi show that certain people knew and loved, and was considered (in some circles) to be dorky. Which is great. But then Russell T. Davies came in and took over and wrote these wonderful scripts and bumped up the design elements and you get this show that now appeals to a much broader audience. Which is also excellent. I have to congratulate them on their successes, and I'm thrilled because their successes make it easier for me to get my hands on the new stuff. But now we have this new production team coming in, riding the high of the Davies era, and it feels like they're going to change everything just because they can. It's like they have money now, so they might as well do all of these nifty things and oh, maybe let's write a script that gives us an excuse to do some nifty things.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so negative. There have been moments in this new season that I have enjoyed and the new companion is growing on me a bit. There was a moment with a star whale that nearly brought a tear to my eye. But the show is not what it was. I know shows are supposed to evolve and that particularly the character of the Doctor is supposed to change with each new actor, but there's something missing and it occurred to me yesterday what it is.

Oomph.

Do you ever watch America's Next Top Model? Tyra Banks will sometimes get on a model for not "bringing it" in her photographs. She'll say something like, "Even when you frown, you have to be fierce. You're giving me this..." and she gets all droopy, "...and what you should be doing is this..." and she makes the frown FIERCE. She gives it oomph. Doctor Who is currently seriously lacking in the oomph department. The Doctor can stand looking over his shoulder at the Daleks while they reveal their plan, or he can STAND LOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER AT THE DALEKS WHILE THEY REVEAL THEIR PLAN, and currently, he's doing the former.

I know that Matt Smith is a young guy. I know Doctor Who is cool now. But the Doctor's coolness doesn't come from the current hipster cool place of ennui. It doesn't come from not caring. The Doctor's coolness comes from exactly how much he does care. About everything! Every situation he is in is the most important situation in the entire universe! You can't just saunter into that. You have to run.

In actor terminology, everybody needs to raise the stakes.

In two episodes so far, the Doctor has said this is the hardest decision he has to make, but I just don't buy it. I don't see him torn apart by the decision. I don't see his anger or his frustration or his pain. I don't see him weighing the options against one another. I see him bummed out. And granted, in real life, we'd all probably be bummed out in those situations, but Doctor Who is not real life. Doctor Who is bigger than real life, so the reactions to certain things need to be bigger than real life. Like Amy Pond's eyes are bigger than real life.

I should go back and watch some of the Davies episodes again, because I found myself even bored with the performances of the extras in this current season's episodes. First of all, it's sad that I'm paying attention to the extras as much as the stars. But I found myself hearing the directorial tidbits to the extras going something like, "When I say action, push the pieces around on the table, but don't move them too far because we'll have to put them back for the next shot." Or, "When the Dalek shoots you, put your arms in the air because it really hurts and then fall to the ground because you're dead." Whereas I get the feeling that the direction from the Davies era for those same extras would have been more like, "You're strategizing your next move and it's okay to move the pieces around to experiment with different layouts. But keep in mind that the next attack is coming in four minutes and you need to be ready to take the hit and you have to have a plan for how to counterattack," and "And then he shoots you! Zap! And it's like being electrocuted with 10,000 volts so you just kind of melt into a puddle that was once a human being." They both get the same point across, but one is infused with energy and urgency, while the other just gives the people something to do physically. I don't know if the lackluster performances by the background are because they used to have better extras or because the director just wasn't paying attention to them.

Which brings me to the scripts themselves. I've already talked about the wasted time on the new Doctor's food preferences, but in general, they're not as clever as they were. They seem more linear, and the big secret thing that you know is going to be important in the season finale (think "bad wolf") is already being shoved down our throats so it will come as no surprise when something happens with it later. Unless they do something shocking with it. But we all know where the shock is coming from.

Anyway. I don't mean to be a negative nelly. I love Doctor Who, and I think it is because I love the franchise of Doctor Who that I feel it necessary to kind of whip it into shape. Actors need to care more and when they don't, the director needs to call them out on it. And just because you can make rainbow colored plastic looking Daleks doesn't mean you should. Though I do like the new eye-stalks. Those look pretty groovy. I'm still not totally sold on the new TARDIS and am realizing they haven't spent much time in it. Maybe they're not sold, either. Anyway. Here's hoping the season picks up. Or, if it doesn't, that I somehow get to work on the show so I can bring the oomph back myself.

Tee hee.

Starting today, I pledge to lose 10% of my current body weight.
Starting today, I promise to take better care of myself.
Starting today, I will create my meals so that they include protein, grains, and vegetables.
Starting today, I will get back to cooking.
Starting today, I will stop beating myself up for my appearance.
Starting today, "I just don't want to" is no longer a good enough reason to skip working out.
Starting today, I will cut back the amount of sugary junk food that I eat.
Starting today, I will strive for the body I want to have instead of the one I feel I'm stuck with.
Starting today, I will know I deserve it.
Starting today, I will start loving myself again.

So the Cubs aren't doing very well. They followed up a four game winning streak with a four game losing streak. Or maybe it's just three games. In any case, they have just about undone all of the good they did last weekend. And it's frustrating. Kind of like me undoing all of the hard dieting work I did not so long ago. I need to get back into that. I've started with the workouts again (somewhat), I just find that I'm always hungry and I don't stop eating until I feel stuffed. I need to adjust that.

I find I'm thinking about a lot of things lately and I'm also having a lot of dreams. I remember two of them from last night. One involved a lovely conversation (which of course, I don't remember now, I just remember really enjoying it) with a man who was a hybrid of the man I have a crush on and a friend from college and then meeting my mom in this tiny quilt shop which, I think, was in Ireland. I wish I remembered some of the projects they were working on in the quilt shop because I remember them as being beautiful. I wish I could recreate them. I think at least one of them had something to do with stained glass, too. Anyway, it was cool. And my other dream from last night involved me selling my car to my brother, but then my brother died and I couldn't get to his wake because I didn't have a car anymore. That dream just left me with an overwhelming sense of irony, or I would have woken up and called my brother to make sure he is okay. I had another dream the night before last that I was sitting in the backyard of the house I grew up in (which doesn't exist anymore), chatting with my sister in law and it was such a nice conversation! Again, I don't remember what we talked about, except I think there was talk of manicures and lilacs. Anyway.

Tomorrow is May. I can't believe it is May already, even though I know that this past February and March were quite possibly the longest months of my life. But the weather is turning nicer and the farmer's markets will start up again and I'll be able to leave my windows open all day. Maybe I'll try to get in the habit of walking to the theater when I have classes, in large part just to remind myself to get outside and enjoy the summer. I have a class starting tomorrow morning that includes two-person scenes and I'm keeping my fingers crossed really tightly that I get to work with one person in particular who I haven't gotten to work with in a very long time. He's going off to grad school in the fall and I'd like to work with him again before he leaves. And he's the sort of actor that will call me out on my crap and not let me get away with half-assing anything, and I like that in a scene partner. I'll enjoy whoever I end up working with, but I really hope it's him. Or another woman who would bring the same sort of energy and passion. She's the only woman I would let smack me upside the head for being dumb and she has. Thrice.

Anyway. Sorry I'm sort of rambly and random. That's kind of where my brain is these days. It'll get more linear soon, I think. Maybe? Or maybe it's a good thing if it doesn't.

Be well.

Oh! And I almost forgot! The new Doctor Who!

Most of you know by now (though some of you may not) that I am in love with Doctor Who. I was flipping through the channels one night and I saw this rather cute man standing in a doorway in outer space next to a woman in a wedding dress and she finds out that he's an alien and I found out that the show was "Doctor Who" (the episode being "The Runaway Bride") and he mentioned a friend he had (Rose) who he lost and I, of course, then had to go back and start watching the show from the beginning (the Russell T. Davies beginning, anyway, starting with Christopher Eccleston as The Doctor) to find out who this Rose person was and what happened to her and well, I found my new favorite TV show. I have seen every episode since the show's resurrection, up to and including the first episode with the Eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith), and I have gone back (I love Netflix) and watched some of the old episodes with Tom Baker, John Pertwee, and William Hartnell as The Doctor. And I have to say, I love this show. I love the character of the Doctor, no matter what actor is playing him. He has this age and wisdom and love for all forms of life that is really...lovely. And just the whole concept is great - a guy traveling through time and space having wacky adventures in a blue police box, usually with a companion or two in tow. But particularly since the show's rebirth in 2005, it's been great. The special effects are top notch and the writing has shown marked improvement. And, Donna was named one of the greatest sci-fi characters of the decade because she didn't fall in love with the Doctor. Brilliant. And her story was so tragic! Anyway.

So David Tennant left the show and regenerated into Matt Smith around Christmas time, and my best friend and I have been chomping at the bit, waiting to see the first episode with the new Doctor (also with a new production staff), and finally, last Saturday night, it happened. We even bought British beer to enjoy while watching the show, such dorks are we.

There will be spoilers here, so if you don't want to know what happened, stop reading now.

I don't like the new sonic screwdriver. Of all the things to redesign, why redesign the screwdriver?

I'm not sure I like the new TARDIS. In the special features for the Ninth Doctor season, they said they redesigned the TARDIS to make it feel more organic that it had been with, say, Tom Baker's Doctor. And I loved the "more organic" TARDIS. This new one for the Eleventh Doctor feels modern and cold. Granted, I didn't get to see it very long, but it feels like all of the organic elements were removed in favor of a sleek, modern-looking machine (with a staircase leading up? What's up with that?). I liked the idea that the TARDIS was a living thing, and I liked being able to see that in the design. The six seconds I saw of the new one didn't feel alive.

Even more than that, though, I really didn't like that the episode started out with him hanging out of the TARDIS, holding on for dear life. The previous episode didn't end that way, and the TARDIS has a protective bubble kind of thing so if you open the door in space, you don't get sucked out into the vacuum. How did he fall out the door? You could argue that the TARDIS was damaged so that's what happened, but still. That bothered me.

I thought they spent WAY too much time trying to figure out the new Doctor's eating habits. Comedy happens in threes, not in fives or sevens or eights. "Three is the number of the counting and the number of the counting shall be three. Five is right out." Thus spake Monty Python, thus is law. So yeah, the food bit was too long. And who didn't know that he was sitting there talking to Amy? We all know his new companion is played buy a cute redhead and he's awful with punctuality. I don't know. It was like "The Girl in the Fireplace," but I like Madame du Pompodour better.

Prisoner Zero was...meh. It was creepy as the woman with two kids, but as a monster it was...meh. I kind of wanted to know what it was hanging onto from above whenever it showed up as the eel-looking thing - how long is the rest of it's body? It felt a bit like an afterthought. "We can get away with only showing it's head. Nobody will care."

The jury is still out for me on the new title sequence/revamped title music. It could just be that I am so used to the old stuff that I just need to give this stuff time.

I'm pretty sure David Tennant's tie didn't have swirlies on it at the end of The End of Time, or at any point in his tenure as the Doctor, so it was unnerving that Matt Smith's tie had swirlies on it for the first forty-five minutes of the episode. The new costume...meh. I'm glad they had an explanation, though, for what kind of cop wears mini-skirts and seamed stockings. Though her shoe choice was a bit of a head scratcher. Practical for running about with the Doctor, not so much for Kiss-O-Gram parties.

I spent Saturday afternoon watching the last three episodes of Season 4 and then the five specials (season 4.5?) and I will admit, it amounted to an afternoon of me crying. I cried a lot. The characters are rich and their situations heartbreaking. Granted, this new episode with the new Doctor is the first of a new season so they're not going to have the Universe collapsing in on itself just yet, but still. I didn't find Amy compelling. I didn't find the new Doctor as charming or charismatic or ancient as he used to be. I didn't cry. I barely laughed. I walked away from it neither loving the episode, nor hating it. There are a couple of episodes that I have seen that I didn't like very much ("Fear Her" and the one with the Wire), and this kind of felt like one of those. Not so horrible that I'm going to stop watching, but it's going to be a little while before I fall in love with the New Doctor.

That being said, I am open to falling in love with the New Doctor. I remember thinking, when David Tennant first appeared at the end of Season 1, "Who is this skinny rat-looking guy and why didn't Christoper stick around a little longer?" But I grew to love David Tennant as the Doctor, just as I had loved Christopher Eccleston. Maybe it will just take some time to love Matt Smith, too. I've heard murmurs about the "new Daleks," though, and that kind of scares me.

I know that every time a new actor comes in to play the Doctor who is younger than the last guy, people get all up in arms about how he's too young to play the part. One thing I liked about David Tennant is that while he looks young, he can also look very old. He was good at carrying the weight of the Universe on his shoulders, and carrying the weight of the Time War and all of the pain he caused his companions and all of the people he lost. Which made it that much lovelier when he would see a new species or a different planet with child-like enthusiasm (i.e. "You are beautiful!" when he sees the werewolf, right before running out of the room to get away from it). I haven't seen that age or weight of the Universe in Matt Smith yet. Granted, it's the first episode so the Universe isn't imploding yet, but even when he was telling off the giant eyeball, he wasn't as threatening as David Tennant used to be. Anyway. I'm picking nits here. I liked the episode. I love the show. I will continue to love the show and I will continue to wish that there really was a Doctor who would show up someday and rescue me from some evil only to invite me to travel with him through the Universe (I'd go in a HEARTBEAT!) and/or I will continue to hope that I get to be on the show someday (I'd make a great first female Doctor - and I'm ginger to boot!). I can see that they need some time to develop and to bring their own whatever to their characters and to the Universe of Doctor Who. And I'm looking forward to watching them do it.

I just really hope they don't make the Doctor/Amy relationship a romantic one. We did that already, just a couple of years ago. Her name was Rose and it was tragic (in the beautiful kind of way). Let's do something else with Amy.

It's been a really long time since I posted. Sorry about that. Thing is, when you're really upset about something and waiting for things to change, you can only write, "I'm really upset and waiting for things to change" so many times before you start to even bore yourself, and I think I was trying to spare both of us, so that's why I was silent for a while there.

Things have changed.

I can't go into too much detail, though some of you already know what I'm talking about. I have a plan again, and a focus and a goal. It's weird, though, because it doesn't quite feel real yet. I'm making progress and taking steps, but I'm still kind of in the blahs, for lack of a better word. And I'm feeling the need to make lists, so here we go with some lists.

I need to cut my fingernails because they are WAY too long for my liking. I remember in high school, I used to try to grow them really long 'cuz I liked the way long nails looked. I still do. They look pretty. But they make playing the guitar really difficult, and even get in the way when doing things like typing. Now my preferred fingernail length is no-white-showing. But every now and again, when my nails have an eighth of an inch of white showing, I look at my hands and think they are really pretty and feminine and I like to just sit in that for a little while before I cut them off again to be practical. Sometimes I'll just file them down a bit so I still feel a bit girlie but I can play. I think it's time to cut them off, though. I have a show in a couple of weeks that I need to get ready for.

Speaking of things to get ready for, classes are going to be starting up again soon. I'm trying to figure out if my long-term plans will allow me to take two classes this session (from a financial standpoint). I think I can. I just need to give myself permission to do so. My mom's partner has this theory about money that it just kind of comes and goes so you shouldn't get too hung up on it. I'm a smart person with many talents; if I need more money in the future, I'm sure I can find a way to get it (legally). In the short term, I'd like to take these two classes. I think they could present some fun challenges.

I have a lot of things I want to do this summer. I want to order pizza from my favorite pizza place. I want to eat at my favorite vegan restaurants again. I want to see the Swell Season at Ravinia. I want to enjoy my favorite beer gardens. I want to go to street fairs. I have tickets for four more Cubs games. I want to get my hair cut. I want to buy another pair of jeans from the store that knows how to make clothing for real-shaped women. I want to play at my favorite music venue again. And I want to lose the weight that I had lost but have recently put back on while I've been hanging out in the blahs. I started running in my living room again last night, and I'm going to do some strength training tonight while I watch the Cubs game. Maybe throw in some time on my exercise bike, too. I'm torn about doing strength training that focuses on my lower body - my lower body is really strong. I have strong thighs and calves and as much as I'd like to shrink my rear end, I don't want to end up building it up more by doing 8,000 squats. Maybe I'll stick with leg lifts and things like that.

I also need to clean some things out this summer, get rid of excess. Figure out what of the stuff I currently have I need to hold on to, and what is ready to move on to its next owner. I'd have a garage sale if I had a garage. Maybe I should talk to someone I know who has a garage and see if I could bring a bunch of my stuff out to them to sell it there. Just a thought.

I have research and planning to do this summer, too. It's going to be a busy one, but I think it will also be good. My niece turns one this summer - I can't believe she's almost a year old already! She is such a sweetheart; she melts me every time I see her.

My plan scares me a little. I think that is what makes it a good plan, but I'm still scared. I hope at some point this summer, the scared goes away for a little while and I can be excited. Because it really is a good thing that could lead to other good things. I think it will help when all of the logistics are sorted out.

So yeah, lots going on. Sorry I'm kind of cryptic - I'll tell you more when I can. In the meantime, lots to do. I hope you are doing well!

Rabbit rabbit! Happy April and all that rot.

See, the thing is this. One of the most important things I've heard in the last couple of months is that if you want to do something, if you want to accomplish something, or if you want to be involved in something, you have to make it happen (or you have to do it yourself). This is something I have found to be true again and again and again and again. And while it makes a lot of sense and can feel very empowering and all of that, it is also IMMENSELY frustrating because if you dream big (like I do), you always get to the point in these grandiose projects where you do need help and input from someone else. For example, if I wanted to start my own theater company right now, I could. But it's not much of a company with just me in it - I'd need other actors and directors and designers and whatnot and I'm sure I could find people interested in joining me for a project, but one show does not a theater company make and I'd have to start probably all over again for the next show, with maybe a carry-over of one or two people and so on and so forth. Or, if I want to launch my acting career, I can go out there and get more headshots and pound on agency doors until I get representation and I can go audition for everything under the sun, but until someone casts me in something, I'm not going to get very far.

I am just about at the point where I think I could make something happen on my own. Just about. I have ideas. I have a couple of scripts percolating. I have a big, silly project idea. And I can get started on them at any time. I think what I need to do, though, is figure out how far I need them to go. If I write a script and it never gets produced, am I okay with that? If I start my silly little project and only a dozen people ever see it, am I okay with that? At what point do I stop looking for help from people who just can't give it and move on to the next thing, or do I keep holding onto one dream forever and ever and ever even if it kills me?

I don't know.

In the meantime, I have a lot of work to do that I don't want to do but that I probably should get on. Because if I am going to launch any of these new plans of attack, I'm going to need some sort of funding for them at some point and being out of a job would really suck. Really.

So I've been feeling for a little while now like I need something good in my life. In large part because I'm currently parked in limbo, waiting to hear back about a few things and I hate sitting in limbo. I like to be able to make plans and move forward, and while I'm waiting to hear how something is going to go, I can't make those plans. And you know how when you hear a word somewhere for the first time, you start to then hear it everywhere? Life is the same way. When you're sitting waiting for something to happen, all you can see are the other things not happening in your life and it starts to get really depressing. So I've been feeling like I need something good in my life for a little while now, but I'm not seeing it.

And I know that's a really unfair statement because I have a lot of good in my life. I have an amazing family and brilliant friends and this wonderful support system. I have enough money. I am physically in good shape. My cat brings me almost unspeakable joy. My apartment (currently) is warm enough (knock on wood). I am smart and talented and not too painful to look at. I have a lot of good in my life. I feel selfish wanting more, but I do. I'm sorry, but I do. The two or three things in my life that make me unhappy are really making me unhappy and I would like to be able to formulate a plan to change them but while I'm stuck in limbo, I can't really do that.

The good news is that limbo will end this month. I don't know if I'll come out on the heaven side or the hell side, but limbo will end this month. Please keep your fingers crossed for me that it comes out on the heaven side. Or if it doesn't, please keep your fingers crossed that I then take that and turn it into something good. Because whether the good thing I'm looking for comes from within me or from elsewhere, I need something good to happen this month and I am determined to make it happen.

Happy March, everybody.

So I'm not in a good head place. I haven't been in a good head place for a couple of weeks now. And I think the worst thing I have done is to try to force myself into a good head place just so I can seem normal or okay or something. Truth is, I'm not okay right now. I put a lot of work into something that may turn out to be all for naught, something I placed a lot of importance on. Something that if it had gone the way I wanted it to had the potential to change the big three annoyances in my life all in one fell swoop. And to have it not go the way I wanted (I think. I still have about six weeks until I know all of the results) feels awful. It means I have to find other ways to deal with the big three. I've thought about some options in the past couple of weeks as part of my "trying to be okay" thing, but none of those options is a very good one - they'll all lead to more annoyance later. They are band-aids on the problems, not curatives.

So I'm not in a good head place. And trying to force myself into one is not at all helpful. I'm getting angrier at myself when I don't stay in my calorie goals or when I take a day off from working out. I bought a different brand of deodorant that doesn't smell as good so I feel stinky all the time. And I played a really difficult scene in class on Monday that proved that I have the ability to do this, but emotionally had me feeling like crap for a couple of days. And then I got angry at myself for feeling like crap. And none of this is productive!

So I'm taking the weekend off. I'm not tracking calories. I'm going to eat what I want when I want until I'm satisfied. I might work out; I might not. I may even splurge and have a beer. I'm not going to try to make myself feel good. I am going to allow myself to be in whatever head place I need to be in for a couple of days. If I just ignore the icky feelings, they'll never really go away. If I sit in them, acknowledge them, and deal with them, they will go away. Or at least become manageable.

And the funny thing is, as soon as I gave myself permission to feel awful for a few days, I started to feel better. I ate pizza and cake for dinner last night and went to bed at 8:30. I lounged around for a bit this morning (because what else is there to do when you wake up at 5:30 on a Saturday morning), did my dishes, and walked to the grocery store. I bought myself the deodorant I like so I smell like me again. I still don't feel great (my sinuses are staging a coup today, too), but I think allowing myself to take a break from trying to be healthy is the healthiest thing I could do right now. So here's to taking the weekend off!

Rabbit, rabbit.

I'm nervous and scared and excited and relieved and I feel like I should be freaking out more than I am but I'm not. I'm ready for this. I've been working on this for about eight months and it's finally here. And part of me really can't believe that it's here and part of me is relieved that the day has finally come. It is the end of the first phase of a project, which means it is the beginning of the second phase which is really exciting. Really exciting. And if phase two goes as planned...

So I'm nervous and scared and excited and relieved and I'm kind of freaking out but kind of not. I need to remember the humor. I need to remember the energy. I need to remember to take my time and make my points. I need to remember my subjects and I need to go in there with David-Tennant-like energy. And most importantly, I can do this. I know what I'm doing. I'm prepared. I'm good at this. I'm likable. I'm flexible. I listen. And they all want me to do well. You all want me to do well. I am blanketed in love and support and positive energy and it makes me want to weep with joy. Which is kind of what this is all about in the first place.

But it's here. Today is finally here. I will be brilliant. I'm so excited for the next stage!

I've needed a little bit of support lately and I've gotten it. Just about every day, I'm getting an email from a family member or friend who I may not have talked to in a long time, just offering kind words of encouragement and support. I can't even begin to tell you how good that feels. It's like my own blanket of fleecy angels descending on me and holding me and keeping me safe and warm and loved.

I feel very blessed right now. Thank you to my wonderful, beautiful family and friends for being there when I need you.

In my ongoing attempts to learn to love my body, I worked out last night in my underwear and a tank top. Granted, they are what the kids call "boy shorts," so they look like I'm wearing hot pants, but still. And don't worry - I worked out in the privacy of my own living room, away from the windows so I'm pretty sure nobody saw me, but it was a big deal for me. I don't normally show that much leg. And it's weird - yesterday was lower body conditioning and I got to watch my muscles work since they were, you know, exposed. I learned a couple of very important things about myself from doing this:

1) I have AMAZING quads. Seriously. My quads are huge. I could probably lift a truck with these puppies. I keep doing squats in the hopes they will help shape my rear end, but I'm really seeing the benefits in my quads. They are something to be proud of.

2) I really like it when my apartment is warm enough for me to just wear underwear and a tank top.

3) If I ever decide to wear shorts again, they should be of the short-short variety because I have great legs and any other length cuts them off funny.

4) If I ever have to play a hooker or an escort or a call girl, they should have me wear boy shorts for any scenes involving lingerie. Boy shorts actually make my butt look cute and pert. I never thought I'd have a pert butt, but in boy shorts, I do.

Please join us again next week for part two in this ongoing series, "What I Learned By Hanging Out in a Belly Shirt For an Afternoon."

I know what my life is supposed to be. It is supposed to be passion and love and fury and anger and fire and tears and laughter so loud it shakes the mountains. It is supposed to be glory and heartache and triumph and turmoil and beauty as far as the eye can see. It is supposed to be magnificent.

But those things don't often happen in the real world. At least not for me. The closest I get is a laugh so loud it disturbs dogs in a three-mile radius. The real world is censored and muted and safe. There's nothing wrong with that. It is censored and muted and safe for a reason - so that we can all function in it and carry on the usual business of being alive. Nobody would be able to do their jobs if they felt the anguish of Hamlet every time someone did them wrong. Nobody would eat if they felt the passion of Juliet as she drank the vial of poison. The world would cease to function if everyone walked around experiencing the world as intensely as characters in books and plays and movies do.

But I want to. I want to feel everything that intensely. I want to live that fully. I want to experience every aspect of the human condition the way they experience it on stage and screen. I don't like to do things halfway. I don't like to be missing out. And in so many ways, I'm missing out already. I'll never marry my high school sweetheart because I didn't have one. I'll never have the four day Vegas marriage because I'm too smart for that now. I'll never even know what it's like to grow up in another country because I only get the one childhood. I'm tired of missing out. I'm tired of capped emotions. I want to live the life that the characters on the screen do.

I know, I sound like a crackpot. I know I can't live that way all of the time. But if I am one of the characters on the stage, I can live that way for a very short time. I can scream and weep and leap for joy boil with rage and love with my whole heart until my body aches. I can experience...everything.

I know what my life is supposed to be. I know what my life is supposed to be and it is not supposed to be this. I know what my life is supposed to be. Please, oh please, oh please let me get there one day.

I know I've probably said it before, but I feel the need to say it again. I love cooking. I really love cooking. I love having warm, healthy, nurturing food in my house. I love working with different textures and spices and flavors and styles. It's fun. I wish I had someone to cook for more often, though, because as much fun as it is to make a big batch of chili, it would probably be more fun if I wasn't the only one eating it for a week and a half.

Today, I made Chile sin Carne al Mole (or something like that - it's chili that uses molasses, cocoa powder, seitan, and pinto beans) from "Vegan with a Vengeance" and I made braised curried tofu with peas from an iPhone app cookbook I found. So tasty. SO tasty. It was the first time I cooked with coconut milk (the curried tofu) and the first time I cooked with seitan (the chili). And my house smells good and things are warm and it's just the kind of food that makes you feel like you're doing your body a favor by eating it.

I also feel the need to give a little shout-out to my sister-in-law. She is an amazing cook, and she cooks with no fear. It doesn't matter how complicated the recipe is, or what kinds of things are in it, she'll give it a shot if it sounds tasty. And it always turns out beautifully. I think, in a strange way, I started cooking more interesting things because of her. And, she and my brother have been instrumental in my cultivation of the cooking habit because they have supplied me with many a lovely gadget to make things easier, and one of the greatest cookbooks ever written (the Veganomicon). So thank you for inspiring me to cook and giving me the confidence to make things like braised curried tofu with peas. I don't think I would have even looked at the recipe twice a few years ago, but now - it's super crazy easy, super crazy tasty, and probably something I would make again. So thanks for that.

Yay good food!

So I'm doing this exercise boot camp thing through this website and on paper, it doesn't sound that hard. There is a workout video every day that is ten minutes long - maximum - and you're supposed to get 30 minutes of cardio exercise in five days a week. So far, I have kept up with all of the exercising. The eating bit has kind of gone down the tubes, in large part because I haven't shopped in a long time. But the exercising is surprisingly kicking my ass. Then again, I'm also doing the 100 push-up, 200 sit-up and 200 squats challenges. And I can see my "saddlebags" going away. My butt is actually taking on a really nice shape. It's still larger than your average starlet, but it's taking on a nice shape. And my arms - I'm getting some nice arm definition. I'm not saying I'm turning into a gym monkey or a female body builder or anything, but I'm starting to get a really nice body. I've got really solid legs, too.

But right now, after biking for 30 minutes at 14 miles per hour, and doing the 5-minute upper body video twice, I'm exhausted. I'm sore and tired and really thirsty, so I should probably put the computer down and go get some water. Being in good shape takes a lot of work.

Three days into 2010 and my heat isn't working properly. Woo hoo!

I feel like I should look back on the last decade and take stock and make resolutions and all that kind of stuff like so many people are doing, but I also have a feeling it would make me sad. I wanted something major to happen in the aughts so that I could say, "We got married in aught-six and had our first child in aught-eight," or something like that. But I didn't get married and I didn't have a child. I did buy a car. I moved into an apartment by myself. I got (was given) a cat who I fell completely in love with (over time). I fell completely in love with my niece. I made two friends that I don't know what I would do without them. I changed jobs. I became a musician and then became not a musician. I joined and left a theater company. I shaved my head. I became vegan. I cried a lot. I laughed a lot. I was an extra in two major motion pictures. I went to Europe.

I was thinking last night that I'm ready to start really living. REALLY living. And I don't think that sitting behind a desk all day, five days a week, is really living. I hope that some of the events of the coming year will start to push me along the path to really living. That is my resolution for 2010 - to start really living every day the best I can, even if it means turning off the phone and the computer and doing what I want to do for an entire day. I did a lot of things in the last decade, but I also missed out on a lot of things. I want to make sure that in this next decade, I take every opportunity I can get my hands on, even if it means taking chances that might just be me making a fool of myself.

I also want to grow a bit of an ego this year, just in respect to my performance abilities. I tend to think that I'm decent. I want to get to a place where I think I'm great.

But first things first. I need to eat breakfast and clean my house and do laundry and start on day one of my January bootcamp. Simple, easy attainable goals. It's the best way to get things done.

Happy New Year, everybody!

I find myself getting very angry and very annoyed about the stupidest things lately. This is stuff that should just roll off my back because in the grand scheme of things, it's really not that big of a deal. I just get angry, though, and want to fight. Like I get angry with having to consistently clean up messes at work that aren't mine. I get angry that there are only two of us in the office who empty the dishwasher with any sort of regularity even though everybody uses it. I get angry that my old cell phone company billed me for a month of service they didn't provide and when I called to straighten it out, they bounced me around to five different people and hung up on me once before I got somebody who could kind of understand the situation, but she said I owe money for one day of service. And then (let's just double check our math, here) she informed me that one day of service equals nine dollars and change. When a whole month of service is $73.44. On what planet is nine dollars one-thirtieth of $73.44? And I'm pissed about it! I shouldn't be pissed about it. I shouldn't say nasty things to the accounting person at the cell phone company, but I did. I know it wasn't nice and I'm sorry for that, but she couldn't see how ridiculous it was to charge me nine dollars for their mistake instead of just taking the whole charge off of my bill. Especially considering that I canceled my service with them at about noon, so technically, I should be billed for 12 hours of service. Hey, if they're going to quibble about days, I'm going to quibble about hours.

When did I become the person who quibbles about hours and says nasty things to customer service representatives? I don't want to be the person who quibbles about hours and says nasty things to customer service representatives. I'm really a nice person. I'm a good person. I'm a helpful person. I think I'm just tired of being taken advantage of so I'm starting to lash out at anyone who has less clout than me. I can't tell the president of my company that it is his turn to empty the dishwasher, so I get angry at guy who made some big catastrophe that has been going on for a week and a half my problem all of a sudden. I'm misplacing my anger and I'm sorry about that. I really am. Cell phone accounting lady, I'm sorry I yelled at you. In my defense, you guys screwed up first and your math skills are atrocious, but I shouldn't have yelled at you. I apologize for that.

I don't want to be an angry person who gets annoyed at the drop of a hat. Maybe that's what I should work on as my new year's resolution - I need to lighten up again. I think I know what will lighten me up and I'm working on it, but I can't really talk about it yet. Not here, anyway. Just know that it is potentially amazing and keep your fingers crossed for me!

I had to come in to work today to help out with a training. Yay. Be at work at 7:30am on a Saturday. I think things are going well so far, though. Running smoothly and a bit ahead of schedule, which is okay by me. Smile, nod, be polite and accommodating and then leave to go to class at about noon.

I've also had a house guest for a couple of days and it has been really nice. In part because she is a really lovely house guest. She's flexible and easy going and independent, so it's kind of like having a temporary roommate whose company you actually enjoy. Perhaps, if I did find a partner who I liked and who liked me, living with him might not be so bad. It is kind of nice to have someone to ask, "So how was your day?" when you get home and to have them ask a similar thing of you. It's very...friendly and warm. I dig that.

Anyway. Other than having to come into work on a Saturday, things are going pretty well. Just have to make it to noon...

I'm going to sound like a crackpot in this entry. Just so you know. I assure you, I'm fine.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you can feel your ribcage open up and all of the light that lives inside you just comes flooding out and fills the whole room? That was the Swell Season concert for me the other night. Amazing. Just...amazing. I found myself thinking, "That's my life happening up there, but I'm really happy that they got it." Which I know makes no sense. My life is supposed to be art and performance and joy and making other people feel wonderful things, and I do get jealous of some people who get to live that life who I don't think necessarily deserve it (i.e. the Britney Spears type), but the Swell Season deserves it. The guys have been playing for over 20 years and Marketa is adorable and talented and humbled and completely appreciative of every single moment of her life. They deserve it. They love it. I'm so glad they get to do this, and it made me so happy at the show I wanted to cry. I actually did cry when he played "Say It To Me Now" partially because of the story he told beforehand about a woman in a blue coat, and partially because he came to the front of the stage and played it with no amplification or microphone and he filled that space as completely as the opera singers fill the Lyric. That's amazing and brilliant and beautiful and all I could do was cry. Which also made me really happy because I was freely following my impulses, public forum be damned, you know? Anyway.

I sometimes feel like my body is a shell, housing this brilliant yellow/gold light. And I have to be careful when this light gets to shine because not everyone can handle it. I don't want to overwhelm anyone or blind anyone, so sometimes I have to keep it under wraps, so to speak. But every once in a while, I can open my heart completely and let the light just shoot out and I can't even begin to tell you how good that feels. I was thinking about that after the concert and I realized that I want to do that in a relationship. I'm looking for a guy who can handle it and who deserves to be bathed in it. I think there are a lot of men out there who can see it - when I think back on things, as much as I would like to try to convince myself that I'm not the sort of woman men are attracted to in that way, that's just not true. There have been a lot of men who can see this light inside me and they want to be near it. I haven't always trusted them with it, though, or trusted that they can handle it because it's really bright. Really bright. And a lot to take in. And I think it needs to shine on someone who has his own really bright light, too, because if it shines one someone who has no light (or a weak-ish light), I'm going to be completely drained and that's not really fair to me, now is it? But if it's a mutual light exchange...that could be brilliant.

I know that sounds crazy. You can swap out "light" for "love" if you want and it sounds a little more sane.

I had a dream about Christian Bale last night. For some reason, he was in the house I grew up in - I think they were filming something there - and my room was his dressing room. I had to get something out of there at one point and he and I started talking and kind of became friends. There was nothing romantic about it - we talked about his wife and his work and my artistic aspirations and stuff. I think at one point, I even tried to sell him on Doctor Who and told him that David Tennant was really cute because of his accent (maybe I was trying to get Christan Bale to speak in his real voice?). We ended up going to one of those sort of kitchy stores where they sell cheese and processed meats and kitchen accessories shaped like barnyard animals and stuff like that and I bought this giant slice of coffee cake with blueberry crumble on top of it (think about three feet square giant) to bring back home to I don't even know who (the film crew maybe?). It was a really nice dream and he came off as much more normal than he is painted in the media (what with the outburst on the Terminator set and whatnot) and even somewhat unsure. It was nice.

Anyway. I warned you I was going to sound like a crackpot. I've been meaning to blog for two days (since the concert) and now since I just woke up, it's all coming out in a mush. Sorry about that. Hope you are well.

I've gotten a lot done this weekend. I have to wait until January 1 for the next part, but I still got a lot done this weekend.

I put the plastic up on my windows. This year I thought ahead and measured my windows and got the super jumbo size stuff so it was a lot easier than it has been in the past. And I used an extension cord with my hair dryer that was long enough that I was able to effectively shrink-wrap the windows in a decent amount of time. Now I just have to wait for the heat to come back on so my apartment actually gets a little warmer. I think they have you use a blow dryer so you start out with a blast of warm air in the room, but I could use more than a blast. It's not icy (yet), but it is teetering on the 66-67 degree mark which is just shy of what the temperature is legally supposed to be. I'm hoping with the plastic, I might get those extra two degrees, and maybe a bonus two degrees or so.

But I'm feeling good. I got a lot done. Movement. Progress. And believe it or not, it's only Saturday. I get one more entire day after this to do even more. Maybe cook. Maybe clean. Maybe take the day off, sit on my butt, and watch TV all day. Who knows. But it feels good to have gotten a lot done.

And the medical bills just keep coming in. I got another bill today for the pregnancy test they performed on me when I was in the emergency room that I had no idea they performed and did not give them my permission to perform, along with a bunch of other lab work that I can only assume was necessary, though whether or not it was is open for debate. However, I do remember telling them several times that there would have to be Divine Intervention in order for me to be pregnant, so the fact that they are now billing me for a test they didn't have to do, when they already billed me for x-rays on my knees that they didn't have to do...I'm pissed.

I called my insurance too, because I got another explanation of benefits saying I owe money for surgery performed on me by some doctor I never met. They don't have a record of a doctor with a name I recognize performing any procedures on me. But surgery? If my lumbar puncture is/was to be coded as "surgery," I should have gotten more than a Band-Aid out of the deal. And I certainly don't think it is right for this doctor who did not perform the procedure to be able to bill me for it. That's fucked up. Pardon my language, but that's fucked up. According to my insurance company, it happens all the time. It is "the norm" for random doctors who you never meet to bill you for things they didn't do. If that is the case, I think it should be "the norm" to not pay for shit that didn't happen. And my insurance company couldn't tell me when it's going to end. It sounds like I could just keep getting bills for some indefinite period of time, as long as Doctor Whatsit didn't make his numbers and decides that the fact that he was standing near the nurse who sat on his ass for three hours while I had needles in both arms waiting for results that weren't coming, he should be able to bill me for a lobotomy. Because that's obviously what they did to me if they think I'm going to pay for doctors I never met to perform procedures that they didn't do.

Healthcare in this country is fucked. Pardon the language, but I can't think of a better term to describe the state of things. Healthcare in this country is fucked up.

I'm thankful for a lot. I'm thankful for my family and my friends and my cat and my health and the fact that I have a job and an apartment and several guitars and I'm thankful for all of the amazing things that my brain and body allow me to do. I'm thankful for the 15-ish pounds that I have lost and the fact that I now feel closer to living in the body I'm supposed to be in. I'm thankful that I got to spend time with my niece today because honestly, that kid melts me like nothing else ever has. I'm thankful that I wasn't the only vegan at my family gathering today. I'm thankful that relatives came today that haven't been to this family gathering in years and that I got to spend some quality time talking to them - maybe more than I ever have before. And I'm thankful that at least so far, I'm entering the holiday season in a positive mood. I think it made a world of difference, at least for me, that I felt friendly and talkative and happy at the gathering today instead of dreading the prospect of having to talk to people. It allowed me to have some really lovely conversations.

So yeah, most things are going pretty well at the moment. And I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for you.

I'm feeling the need to write about some happy things today.

Warm water. I'm really a big fan of warm water. Warm showers are particularly nice, but even just washing your hands in warm water (after, say, using the restroom) can feel really indulgent from time to time. I've even taking to drinking hot water when I'm at work and I've already had my tea. It helps make sure I'm drinking enough water, and it helps keep me warm. I'm sure people think I'm silly drinking cups of hot water, but that's okay. People think I'm silly for lots of reasons and I kind of like it.

I've lost fifteen pounds since July and I finally bought myself a pair of trousers that fit. It makes me feel really odd to wear the ones that are way too big, now that I know just how big they are, and it makes me feel good to wear the ones that actually fit. I also like that I can see muscle definition in my arms and my legs. I have some pretty great legs, I must say.

Class has started again. I didn't have a great exercise last night, but it wasn't awful and I didn't die, so it's all good. It was great to see my friends again and I love that feeling of trying something new and giving it a shot and, I dunno, just seeing what happens. I like to try new stuff and I got to try new stuff last night.

I may have found someone else to help me in a spot I hadn't even thought to look.

It's Thursday. Which is almost Friday. And it's only a three day work week next week. I think I'm at a place in my major work projects where I need to wait for stuff (need to wait for product to arrive, etc), which means today shouldn't be as crazy as the rest of the week was, which is good. I could use a sort of mellow day.

I dunno. I'm just feeling kind of good today. I still hate certain things about my life and my station therein, but I feel kind of good today. Like things are coming together and like maybe I'll make it through the holidays without a major meltdown. Here's to Thursday.

I'm grumpy.

I got the explanation of benefits for my emergency room visit today, in addition to the first bill from the radiology people. All told, it is going to cost over $3,100 for me to waste nine hours of my life finding out there was nothing wrong with me and being made to feel worse in the process. And that's with insurance. That's with the deductible met on my insurance. Thirty-one hundred dollars. I don't know about you, but I don't have that lying around to hand over at the moment. Even paying it off over time, if I pay it off over a year, that's still $258 a month. That's a car payment. But I'm not getting a car out of it. I got holes in my arms and my spine and I got treated like I really didn't matter. Yay.

And I went dancing tonight and got a parking ticket. I got there about 9:30pm and left by eleven, and somehow, at 10:22pm, I got a parking ticket for an expired meter/overstay. I hadn't even been there an hour - how could it be an overstay? And what meters in the city require that you pay after 9pm? Really? And why didn't any of the other surrounding cars have tickets on them? What the hell is it with cops and ticketing my car? Don't they know I just got slapped with $3,100 worth of medical bills?

I'm tempted to call my doctor and ask her to pay for it. Or call the hospital and make them pay at the very least for the completely unnecessary knee x-rays. I shudder to think what additional charges they would have slapped me with had they actually given me some sort of medication for the headaches that I went in for in the first place.

And I'm hungry. I've been hungry all day. I went over my calorie limit and was then kind of bored at the dance tonight so I didn't get as much exercise as I was hoping for and I really want a snack now but it's almost midnight and I really should just go to bed and I've already had too much to eat today but I'm hungry. This is not good.

And I haven't gotten any sort of confirmation that my class is starting on Wednesday. I like to know these things more than an hour in advance. Especially since I'm going to be stuck in a meeting at work all day Wednesday that I'd rather not be in because I have enough other things going on at the moment.

So I'm grumpy. I think I have a right to be grumpy. I know it will go away, but right now, I'm grumpy.

I can feel my shoulder muscles. When I cross my arms, I can feel where my shoulder muscle stops and my tricep starts. I think it is because of the working out I've been doing, and the weight loss - I think my body fat percentage has changed and that I have built up some muscle mass to the point where I can feel my shoulder muscles. It's weird. It's really weird. All of a sudden, I'm finding myself occupying the body I've always wanted to occupy. I'm small. I haven't totally embraced the size of my ass, but I don't feel like there is this giant eyesore following me around anymore. When I try to puff out my stomach to look pregnant, I look only four or five months at best. And I'm using this new shampoo that has given me exactly the hair I've wanted for years - it's soft and straight and just friggin' gorgeous. And this new facial cream...I've always had bad skin, but it looks so nice now. And now I can feel my shoulder muscles. How strange it is to not want to complain about the way I look anymore. To be truly content in my own skin. I'm really diggin' this.

And despite all of that, today, I'm really scared. I have a big project to tackle at work tomorrow, the sort of thing that could make me or break me, and I'm terrified that it's going to break me. That I'm going to forget something or it's all going to go wrong or I won't have enough time. And I keep telling myself that normally, when people do this, they have help. At least one other person to help. But I'm doing it almost completely by myself. All of the organization, all of the execution, all of the clean up is going to be my responsibility and my responsibility alone. If I can pull this off, there is literally nothing I can't do. But I'm afraid I won't be able to pull it off. And the one little glimmer that my boss doesn't think I'm a waste of space will go away. (I know he doesn't think I'm a waste of space, but he's not real good with the whole pat-on-the-back thing.) I know I should try to get some sleep because I have a lot to do tomorrow, but my brain is going too fast for me to be able to fall asleep yet. Hence the disjointed blog entry.

So I'll watch another episode of Doctor Who. I'm all caught up, except for a couple of the most recent specials. I've seen all of the last four years - the most recent incarnation(s) of the Doctor, and I have to say, I love the Doctor. And, out of all of the characters on the show, I think I relate to him the most. A man to whom it never occurs that he might fall in love. A man who travels all over having these amazing adventures. A man surrounded by absolutely brilliant friends who would do anything for him, yet who is tragic and whose heart aches and who is perpetually alone. He has these moments of humanity that are absolutely heartbreaking, and as much as he tries not to feel for his companions, he falls in love with each and every one of them in a heartbeat. He is open and guarded at the same time, curious and vulnerable, wonderful and horrible and terrifying and comforting and brilliant. And in all of the madness going on in my life right now, a little open guarded curious vulnerable wonderful horrible terrifying comforting brilliance is really nice. Plus, they have accents.

So yeah. I'm scared and stressed and wishing I was a time lord. How are you?