I'm starting school on Wednesday. Kind of. Two classes at this acting school in Chicago - Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings. I'm excited and terrified all at the same time, which I think means it's going to be a good school experience. And I think it is going to be the kick in the pants that I need. I hope it encourages me to start taking care of myself again. Yes, I'm doing push ups and crunches every day, but I need to get active again and involved. And I need to move on from this completely unrealistic crush that I have had for about five years. Yes, he's smart, but he's just not that into me. Yes, he's funny, but he's just not that into me. Yes, he's intelligent and cultured and talented, but he's just not that into me. And if there is one thing I need to focus on right now, it is things that are good and healthy for me. So fare thee well, dear crush. You are a brilliant, wonderful, beautiful man, but I'm looking for someone who is into me as much as I am into him.

I'm starting school on Wednesday. Please please please let it not suck.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

Welcome to the world, Miss Alexandra June.

I worked on a documentary a while ago about dating and break ups, and it was invited to play for a week at a very cool, indie-type movie theater downtown for a week. Pretty big honor, if you ask me. So anyway, I went to see it last night (I've seen it before, but it changes a little each time I watch it), and it once again got me thinking about relationships.

I think I'm getting better at them. I look back at the "relationships" I've had (even just the people I've dated for a brief period of time) and I think I'm learning from each one and not making the same mistakes over and over, so that's good. I think my biggest problem is that I try to work on various aspects of being in a relationship with a guy who really isn't into trying that particular thing. For example, I go for honesty with the guy who thinks everyone has a hidden agenda, or I hold off on the physical side until I'm comfortable with the guy who just wants to get some. That kind of thing. I end up single, but at least I walk away feeling like I was true to me. And they always say that you have to love yourself before you can be in any sort of healthy relationship, right?

Someone in the movie last night, though, says that he believes we're all only half of a person and we're looking for our other half. I hate that statement. I am irritated almost to no end by statements like that because I find the thought that as amazing as I am, I'm only half of a person truly depressing. I don't know what more anyone could expect me to be. I feel like I am a whole person on my own. And when it comes right down to it, given my druthers, I would like to find a partner who is also a whole person on his own. Imagine what two whole people can do together, versus two half-people. That, to me, is an exciting prospect. I think the problems with looking for another whole person, though, are that a) a lot of people are walking around thinking they're missing their better half and b) whole people tend to be very busy and preoccupied with things other than looking for other whole people to spend their lives with. I do it. I'll find just about anything else to do so I don't have to "look" for that special someone. Looking is boring. Accidentally running into is fun.

Which brings me to my last realization about relationships. I need to stop dating men just because they want to date me, and I also need to stop holding out for men who don't want to date me. If I've learned anything from my dating experiences, it is that this is not the only guy in the world who finds me attractive and interesting. If I don't find him attractive and interesting, I don't have to spend time with him. That sounds really bitchy, but the alternative is to date him for a while as he gets emotionally invested and I spend the entire time trying to figure out a way to get out of this which is really not fun, fair, or nice either. But I also need a mechanism for "getting over it" when I find myself attracted to a man who is either otherwise engaged or just plain doesn't find me attractive and interesting. Because there will be other men who strike my fancy. And one of the big things I should be looking for in a man (beyond intelligence and sense of humor and values and whatnot) is whether or not he wants to be with me. Because I don't want to be on the other end of that relationship where I get emotionally invested and he spends the entire time trying to figure out a way out of this.

That being said, I'm working on getting over my crush. And I'm going to start taking some classes, which I am very much looking forward to. And I'm going to try to figure out a way to go see some Cubs/Cards games now that DeRosa is a Cardinal. That just hurts, man. It just hurts.

Mark DeRosa is a Cardinal. Really. Sometimes I think the universe hates me.

Okay, so...

1. No note from "that" special someone, but I did get a bunch of other notes from other special someones that really made today sweet and wonderful. There was a time when I knew people all over the country and I kind of wanted my birthday to be about how many people sent me happy wishes. This year - not many. But I heard from every member of my immediate family. I heard from my oldest, dearest friends. I heard from the people who are closest to me and really, that is the important part. So in that respect, today was wonderful.
2. Mark DeRosa is still not a Cub, and we still have Milton Bradley and Kevin Gregg. On the other hand, Bradley was ejected today for being a jackass, and the Cubs won. So in that respect, today was wonderful.
3. I don't have a band again. But I did get booked for a gig next week, and I talked to my drummer about doing a couple DIY recordings once all of her wedding craziness dies down and she is totally up for it. So in that respect, today was wonderful.
4. I dont' know if the little man across the courtyard was yankin' his wank today or not because I left my shades closed. So in that respect, today was wonderful.

And I got to spend the day shooting video for work instead of sitting behind a desk. And I got to enjoy an amazing raw food meal (though the non-cheese cheesecake might have been a bit much). And I got to spend time with my really good friends. So all in all, a really good day. Thank you for the notes and for investing some time in me. I couldn't ask for more than that, and yet, I got it.

Thank you.

I didn't know Michael Jackson. I can't say if he did the things they said he did or not. I can say that he was a brilliant performer and the world will miss him terribly.

I really don't know what to think about his passing. He was fifty. Fifty. That's too young. On the other hand, he lived a brilliant, tortured, wonderful, tragic life and that has to take it's toll.

I really don't know how to feel about his passing. I didn't know him. I liked some of his music. I remember when my brother got "Thriller" for Christmas - we wouldn't play the title track when my parents were home because it had the word "hell" in it. I remember the videos coming out one at a time, each one more amazing than the last. I remember doing the "Thriller" dance in the mall when we built a haunted house there to drum up business and entertain the crowds. It makes me sad that a whole generation of children will grow up without those cultural landmarks. It makes me sad that he didn't get to do his last tour. I feel for his family. I feel for his fans who wanted to see him just one more time. It kind of creeps me out a little that ABC and NBC (and probably CBS, too, but I don't get CBS anymore since TV went digital) put together hour-long specials about him and his life and his death within two hours of hearing the news. He made popping and locking popular. He changed music and dance and culture forever and I don't know that there will ever be another Michael Jackson. His passing is a fantastic loss, and he will be very much missed.

And then there is part of me that thinks it's a hoax. An attempt to get people to finally leave him alone. A publicity stunt for his upcoming tour. And because of that little voice, I'm having a hard time being really sad about his passing. It will sink in later. Probably the next time I hear one of his songs out at a bar or a club.

Rest in peace, King of Pop. Rest in peace.

Tuesday night observations:

My cat likes it when I hold his foot while he sleeps. I think he likes knowing that I'm there and his foot is the least offensive, least warm part of his body that he can have up against mine. Whatever the reason why he likes it, it melts me that he likes to sleep with me holding his foot.

Micah Hoffpauir is kind of a cutie.

Kevin Gregg should not be the Cubs closer. Let's trade him to get DeRosa back.

There is an acting school in Chicago that teaches kind of exactly what I want to study more of, and you have to interview before you can sign up for classes, and I interviewed last week and I got in. Yay! It's evenings and weekends kind of classes, but still. How much fun would it be for me to take some acting classes again? To do something that interests me?

So this morning, on the train into work, I was reading one of my old acting text books and getting really excited about the prospect of getting to do this stuff again. I know not everybody is into Meisner. Some people think it is a waste of time. I think it is a really good way to train yourself to live truthfully, which is what we are supposed to be doing as actors (and technically as people, too, but nobody really does). I'm looking forward to doing the repetition exercise with other people who get it, or at the very least, want to get to a place where they get it. I'm looking forward to doing the activity exercise again. I'm looking forward to "doing," not "acting" or "being."

Now I just have to wait until payday to register...

There are two bits of wisdom that I wish I could impart to the general population.

1 - Slowing down a song does not automatically make it better. There is a Dr. Pepper commercial right now that is doing it's best to perpetuate this myth, but I think it is time we all admit that it's not true. From time to time, slowing a song down is a good thing. It worked for Eric Clapton and the Foo Fighters when they did Unplugged. However, "God Bless America" was actually written as a march. As was the Star Spangled Banner. Yes, it is lovely that you get to sing them in front of a baseball game but let's be honest - the fans are not there to hear you sing. We all want to see the game. The more you slow down those songs, the longer it is before baseball starts and that can make certain people irritable. I think it is safe to say that irritable is not good, so by the transitive property, slowing down songs is not always good. Q.E.D.

2 - There is nothing wrong with being single, or with enjoying being single. I dated a guy once a very long time ago for about a month. And by "I dated this guy for a month," I mean, "We went out twice in the same month." It ended because let's face it, that's not a relationship. But he said to me that he believed there is someone out there for everyone, and that you will find that person. So if you spend the time between now and then dating or not dating, it really doesn't matter because you will eventually end up with who you are supposed to be with anyway. In a way, you're doing yourself a disservice by casually dating people who you aren't supposed to end up with because if you're with one of them when you meet your person, you could miss it. In a strange way, I liked that. I don't know that I'm a fatalist - I don't know that I believe that there is someone out there for everyone. I think I was just kind of drawn to the justification that it was okay for me to not be dating.

The thing is, our society is set up to encourage people to pair off. For example, I had a gig last week and as I sat there waiting to play, some random guy came over and asked me to play pool. Within the first two minutes of the conversation, he asked a question about my husband or boyfriend. I don't care what else he might have said the rest of the night; the fact that he needed to know that bit of information meant he was hitting on me. Random guy sees random girl sitting at the bar by herself and assumes that she wants company, that she wants to be hit on, that she wants to flirt. I wanted to play my songs and go home - it took me over three hours to get to the venue and I was tired.

And of course, as I examine my life and try to figure out what I can do to change things so I can be happy again, I start to think about some of the relationships I have had. Not always, but I often find myself dating men who want to date me instead of dating the men I want to date. I've tried to date the men I want to date a time or two, but they're usually not interested in me, or they turn out to be kind of nuts and not in the good way, so I know what the situation feels like on both sides. And to go back to the guy I dated once for about a month, why spend my time dating men I don't really want to date? Why not hold out for someone who interests me? Because there aren't many of those who aren't gay or already spoken for. Which brings me back to being single and enjoying being single. To be in a relationship that you don't want to be in is exhausting. There is pressure and there are expectations, and without the motivation to live up to those expectations, it's all just going through the motions which takes a lot of energy. But I have these friendships that I want to invest in and try for and those aren't exhausting, so I know I could do it. It's just a matter of finding the right guy to do it with. And in lieu of finding him, spending my time doing other things that make me happy. What is so strange about that?

So to sum up: slower is not always better, and there is nothing wrong with being single. There is, however, something wrong with a life that does not include ice cream (even non-dairy ice cream), so if you have some handy, might I suggest you go enjoy some?

Happy Father's Day to all of the dads out there. Especially mine.

Hi.

I know I've been remiss in my posting as of late and truth is, I have a lot to say. But most of it is either extraordinarily dull or stuff that I can't post about just yet. I should use this time, though, to keep my writing skills up, whether or not I'm writing about what's on my mind at the moment.

What I think I really need to do is list a few things that I either like about myself or that are making me happy at the moment. So here goes:

I really am a good musician. I'm not the most skilled guitarist in the world, but I write some really good music.
I really am a good actor. Yes, I could always learn more, but for the most part, I know what I'm doing.
I really am a nice person. Deep down inside, I really am nice. I've just been grumpy lately.
I really am smart. Mensa. 'Nuff said.
I really have great hair. I just got all of the dead, fried stuff cut off so my hair feels like hair again and it's really really wonderful. My mom used to say I have one of the all-time great heads of hair and sometimes, I am inclined to agree with her.
I really have an amazing body. Not amazing in the "wins wet t-shirt contests all the time" way, but in the "able to do amazing things" way. It dances and heals itself and is pretty flexible. For as much as I beat myself up about wishing I looked differently than I do, I have a pretty amazing body.

Which brings me to something really odd. Most of this time that I have been grumpy, I look in the mirror and I see "pretty." The face looking back at me is pretty. The collarbone and hair and shoulders and whatnot that I see in my bathroom mirror are really pretty. I've not experienced that before. Usually, I look in the mirror and go, "meh," and go on about my day. But recently, I've been able to appreciate my own physical beauty. It's strange and it makes me feel egotistical. Or it would if I was in a place to feel good about myself at the moment. It makes me wonder what it is like to feel good about myself in general, at the same time that I'm feeling pretty. I think my head might explode if that ever happens.

I love my cat. I love my family. I love my friends. I take secret pleasure in knowing that nothing is permanent. I love it that I get a niece for my birthday this year and I can't wait to meet her. I like that I'm starting to do things again - I need to be doing things. I still have a lot of work to do, but I feel like I'm at least on the road to getting there, and that's good.

Hope you all are well.

I feel like I have a plan, now, which is good. If I have a plan, particularly a long-term plan, I can then break it up into little increments that I can keep an eye out for on a daily basis so that it always feels like I am doing something.

I am going to make a conscious effort to be able to answer the daily question, "What did I do today to further my plan?" with something other than "Nothing."

So last night, I made a sign and hung it on my mirror so I will be reminded daily of my plan and the various things it will take to get me there. As well as a few words of encouragement. I phrased it all as positive stuff so that if I'm ever feeling down when I look at the sign, it won't shame me into doing something, but will hopefully inspire me. And I made a conscious decision to take better care of my body. Simple things. Not skipping out on brushing my teeth before bed, even if I'm really, really tired. Flossing more. Cutting back on the ice cream consumption from "daily" to "maybe once a week." I'm not "dieting," per se, and I'm not going to become a fitness buff. I'm just going to start asking myself before I do things, "Is this good for me? Will this honestly make me feel better about myself, or is it just a band-aid 'cuz I'm grumpy?" That kind of thing. So maybe while I'm watching TV, I stretch instead of just sitting on the couch. Not too strenuous, but still, it's something.

I know this sounds like I've reverted to a simpleton with no complex thoughts or anything, and in some ways, it feels like that. But in some ways, I think I need to slow my thought process down and focus on what's right in front of me if I'm going to get out of this funk. And the easy way to do that is to make a plan, set goals, and stick to them.

Wish me luck!

I'm also having a little bit of trouble believing it is June already. I still don't think the weather has caught up with the fact that summer officially starts in about two and a half weeks, meaning it doesn't feel like June. This means also that technically, I could become an aunt just about any day now. Hopefully not for another month, but if I did become an aunt, say, tomorrow, it wouldn't be nearly as scary as if it had happened last month, you know?

June. Means the year is almost half over. I don't think I've really done anything good with this year yet, so it's a little sad that it's half over already. I did go to San Francisco to see a friend play. And I did my first trade show. And got a promotion. And spent some time with my honorary sister and her family. And cleaned my carpets. Okay, maybe I have done a couple of useful things so far this year. I just gotta pick it up a little so I can finish out the year strong.

So I have been admittedly remiss in my cooking duties as of late. Which means I have nothing fun to bring to work with me for lunch, so I end up bring something really sad and then deciding, come lunchtime, that I should go get a sammich instead. Which translates into, "I'm turning into a Subway sandwich." Now, I'm sure that the twiggy girl in front of me in line would encourage me to order a salad once in a while instead of the same sandwich every day, I would like to say that I am a very big fan of bread and of the 37,000 sandwich shops within a two block radius of where I work, Subway is the only one that has bread I can eat. So I keep going there for lunch. Largely, at this point, I think because I like the mustard. Dijon mustard. What does it say about my eating habits/general well-being when I find myself craving foods not only packed with vinegar, but also horseradish? No wonder I'm single!

Kidding.

But this also means that come dinnertime last night, I didn't have anything fun in my house to eat, so I just had to throw together whatever I had and I came to a very important realization - regular pasta is very dull. White pasta has no taste. Maybe I've just gotten spoiled eating whole wheat pasta for the last few years. I used to love pasta. I would have spaghetti two or three times a week. But last night, even coated in my favorite jarred pasta sauce, a nice bowl of elbows just left me feeling empty and unsatisfied. I miss the nuttiness of whole wheat pasta. It adds a whole other level of flavor to your dish. And today, on my way back from the sammich shop, I saw a guy picking at a lunch of white pasta in some rather generic looking red sauce and my heart went out to him. Food does not have to be dull and lifeless! But I figured that would sound funny coming from the girl with a Subway sammich in her hand, so I just kept walking.

It's time for Bitch Fest 2009. I am apologizing in advance as none of this is intended to hurt anyone's feelings, though I am very aware of the fact that someone may find something in this post with which they don't agree and take umbrage. I apologize for that, and ask that you please remember I don't intend to offend anyone.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of being grumpy.
I'm tired of not wanting to hang out with my friends.
I'm tired of not having the motivation to do anything to stop being grumpy.
I'm tired of trying to figure out ways to stop being grumpy.
I'm tired of feeling like I can't get a break.
I'm tired of having no vacation time.
I'm tired of not being allowed to have opinions in certain settings.
I'm tired of being cut off when I try to speak.
I'm tired of taking everyone else's happiness as a personal slight because I'm not happy.
I'm tired of not being happy.
I'm tired of feeling like I'm not good enough, no matter how hard I try.
I'm tired of trying to prove I'm good enough when it should be glaringly obvious by now that I am.
I'm tired of looking for silver linings.
I'm tired of icky, gloomy weather.
I'm tired of it being cold all the time.
I'm tired of the Cubs losing.
I'm tired of not having Mark DeRosa around when our team is falling apart and really needs a good utility guy who can fill in for all the guys who seem to have caught the flu formerly known as Swine Flu.
I'm tired of being tired.
I'm tired of working twice as hard as most of the people around me, or at least feeling like I do.
I'm tired of being hated for some unknown reason - at least tell me why you hate me so I can have some respect for you.
I'm tired of liking boys who don't like me back.
I'm tired of being liked by the wrong boys.
I'm tired of people not following through.
I'm tired of being told I'm wonderful and missed only so I can be ignored and forgotten for extended periods of time.
I'm tired of looking in the mirror and seeing pretty but empty.
I'm tired of fighting so hard for everything I do.

I'm sorry. I really am. I love my friends and I love my family and there are a lot of things about my life that are really good. I have a good apartment with clean carpets now. I have friends who put up with me when I fall into year-long funks like this. I have a brilliant, supportive, loving family. I have a job that pays me enough so that for the first time probably ever, I don't have to worry about money. I have four guitars and a bass in my living room. I have this fantastic brain and this body that, while not perfect, functions really well and can do a lot of amazing things. I like having this plan, but at the same time, it's a longer-term plan so any movement on that front is very slow and there are certain parties who aren't participating in my plan and it's kind of essential that they do or there is no plan (trust me, it's not you - I love it that so many people have sent a little "you can do it" note. Thank you for that). I'm just...frustrated. And feeling stuck. And you know how when you're frustrated and feeling stuck it can be hard to see the good things. You stop noticing that you have lovely hands and you focus on the paper cuts you got moving furniture and cleaning carpets or the fact that your one finger just kind of hurts all of the time but you don't know why.

Side note:
They're = they are
There = a location
Their indicates possession
Study this. Learn this. Use these three words correctly in business correspondence with me and the chances of me throwing a stapler at your head are much lessened. I mean, really. A person without a firm grasp of the English language is left to do his/her job the best way he/she knows how and I find myself wondering where the best place to get a degree in micromanagement is.

I know that complaining like this is very unattractive, but it kind of had to be done. It's been building up for a while (in case you couldn't tell). I will get out of this. I have to get out of this. I think I'm kind of hoping at this point that when the day comes that I do get out of this grump-fest, I will still have one or two friends left, even if they are my cell mates in the loony bin. Or that perhaps, when viewed in the right light with the proper amount of wine in one's system, that my frustration and stuck-ed-ness might be found entertaining. There is beauty in pain, my friend. Or should I say "Their."

I realize that one thing I have gotten very bad at recently is keeping in touch. It will take me a couple of days to respond to an email or return a phone call. I know this. I would like to apologize for this now, even though I'm not sure it's going to get any better in the near future.

The main reason I would like to apologize for it is because I know how annoying it is when you send someone an email or a text message and they just don't respond. I'm very good at finding the people who just don't respond and it is rather frustrating. I know it's frustrating and I'm sorry that my slow responses frustrate other people so chalk this one up as me being a hypocrite for complaining about people not responding, but it's annoying. In a professional setting, there really is no excuse for not responding. In a personal setting, it just makes the non-responded-to person feel worthless.

So anyway. I'm sorry I've been bad at keeping in touch.

The plastic bag.
So thin.
So handy.
Your beautiful handles make things easy to carry.
Your bright graphic prints remind me where I just shopped.

Okay, enough of that. This isn't about poetry; this is about plastic bags and the stores that still use them. Primarily grocery stores.

Now, it is my understanding that 95% of the world is made out of plastic because plastic is durable, cheap, and it lasts forever. I remember when grocery stores originally switched from paper bags to plastic bags - the big selling points were that plastic bags have handles (which at the time, paper grocery bags did not) and that they were stronger than the paper bags which would dissolve if your frozen foods start to thaw on the way home. What I don't remember is the momentous event that convinced an entire population that plastic bags are flimsy and unreliable and that therefore, putting more than one box of tissues into a double-bagged plastic bag would cause catastrophe on the way from the store to one's car, or from one's car to one's home.

What amuses me almost to no end (I have to sleep sometimes) is that while most major grocery chains are making marked steps to "green" their stores, their baggers are still using a minimum of four plastic bags for each customer. If a customer asks for paper bags, half of the contents of the paper bags get wrapped in plastic first so they don't leak on the paper. Or, the paper bag will be placed in a plastic bags so that the customer can take advantage of the oh so useful handles provided by the plastic bag.

My other personal favorite has to do with stores that have paper bags with handles on them and their need to double bag those bags, usually because the handles break. You would think that someone would design a paper bag with relatively durable handles so that for the first time in thirty years, a person buying orange juice and tomato soup at the store could leave with only one bag. This cultural obsession we have with bags is ludicrous. When I ask the person at the checkout counter to either put it all in one bag, or let them know that I don't need a bag at all for the pack of gum I just purchased, they look at me as if I have suddenly sprouted several new limbs that are about to begin beating the checkout worker about the head and neck.

Which is why, whenever I can, I use the self-checkout lane. I have, in the relatively recent past, fit a carton of orange juice, three cans of soup, assorted fruits and vegetables, and a box of crackers all into one standard grocery store plastic bag and walked a half-mile home with said bag and ZERO incidents. And when I got home, I felt a mixture of pride for using plastic in the manner it was intended to be used, and guilt for having to use a plastic bag in the first place because I forgot my reusable bags at home. Oh well.

In general, the human body is pretty great. The simplest things, like how a paper cut heals, are really simply amazing when you think about how much time and effort and energy is involved. And then you sit back and think of all of the other amazing things it can do, and how well it adapts when one particular function isn't functioning. Pretty cool, yes?

I would also like to mention that I am a fan of the human form from the aesthetic perspective as well. Women with their lovely curves. Men with their shoulders and abs and forearms. Odd as it sounds, find me a man with great forearms and I kind of melt. But eyes are beautiful and smiles are beautiful and hands and hearts and calves and noses -- the human form is, in general, attractive. And I'll even admit that when my own personal anatomy comes into close contact with someone else's personal anatomy, the end result can be pretty great (depending largely on who he is and how we feel about one another).

I would also like to point out that whatever a person decides to do to his or her own anatomy should really be up to them - pierce it, draw on it, poke it, prod it, stroke it, rub it, tickle it, flick it, lick it, shave it, flaunt it, hide it, dye it, bleach it, wax it, trim it, oil it, cut it, bind it, put weird things in it, use it, abuse it, whatever. As long as it isn't hurting anyone else, I believe that a person should be able to do to his or her own anatomy whatever he or she chooses (and I reserve the right to amend this statement if and when I ever have to apply it to my own children).

That being said, keeping in mind that I like the human form, keeping in mind that I like the male human form in particular, and keeping in mind that I believe in the freedom to do what you want in the privacy of your own home, I really very strongly suggest that if you must stand naked in your living room and masturbate at all hours of the day that you please close your blinds. I understand that it feels good. Believe me, I'm a fan of masturbation. I understand that doing it in front of an open window may even be exciting for the possibility that someone else might see you doing it. I very humbly ask, however, that I not have to be that person. Unless you happen to be my lover at the time (and even then it's iffy), I don't want to have to see that. You have every right to do it, and I applaud the little seventy-year-old man across the courtyard who is physically able to still do that, but honestly, it kind of creeps me out and makes me uncomfortable in my own house, particularly because your window looks right into my bedroom window which kind of makes me wonder what it is you're thinking about while you are playing with yourself in your living room at 5pm on a Thursday. Or 10pm on a Tuesday. Or noon on a Sunday. Really. Do you do anything else? I've seen you entering and exiting the building, and I'm pretty sure you occasionally put pieces of paper up in your window because you know I can (and don't want to be able to) see what you're doing which makes one or the other of us holding the door for the other one a little, well, awkward, so I know you must do something, sometimes. Is it just groceries that you leave the building for? Go grab some food to keep the stamina up for the next round? You're so fully clothed when you're out - why can't you do that more at home? Or could we maybe work something out so that I know I need to close my blinds by 9pm because that's when the games begin, but I'm allowed to open them again at 8am with the assurance that you won't be standing there, pistol in hand, so to speak? Yes, you have the right to do what you want in your home, but so do I, and I would really like to not have to see that with such alarming frequency. Please?

I'm just sayin'.

Let's be honest - I've been very not okay for a very long time now. And truth be told, I'm sick of it. I'm sure my friends and family are sick of it, too. I've been a pill. I barely leave my house and I'm not very much fun when I do. I'm grumpy all of the time and have a very short temper.

I would like, if I may, to apologize for all of that right now. I'm not saying that I'm done with it, but I just want you to know that I am aware of it and I'm sorry for it.

So how do we fix it? I need to get back in touch with how to be me. It's funny - I started climbing the corporate ladder, and I thought I'd try the persona on for a little while, and it took me all of two months to realize that it's really not me and I really don't like it. I don't like having the purse that you carry over one shoulder instead of the messenger type bag you wear slung across your chest. I don't like the long hours with no lunch break. I don't like the fighting to try to keep my head above water. And I really really really really REALLY don't like not having a creative output or a creative community. I don't like putting all of that on hold for the sake of my day job. I don't like being tired all of the time. I don't like being grumpy. I don't like being a pill.

So we've identified what I don't like, we need to look at what I do like. I do like creating things. I do like knowing that there is more to my life than my day job. I do like knowing that I'm a more unique individual than the girl with the giant shoulder-slung purse clocking in at 7:45am and leaving at 5:00pm.

I have some ideas for how to get back there. It's not going to be easy and it's not going to be pretty and it may be a fantastic failure, but even the thought of trying feels wonderful. Like I'm on my way back to being me again. I know I've been a pill and I probably don't have the right to ask, but if you have a little spare positivity lying around, I could use a "You can do it."

Thanks.