I really have nothing exciting to say today, so I'm just going to ramble for a while and see what happens.

It's really nice outside. Makes me wish the Cubs were in town. Makes me wish I had tickets to see the Cubs play. Yeah, they lost yesterday, but they were knocking each other in again, scoring runs, running bases, that kind of thing. I think this team has a lot of potential. If only one of our pitchers would win a game so my fantasy baseball team would be doing better.

We learned choreography for the opening number in this next show I'm in last night and while I still think it is going to look good, all of the really cool stuff I got to do at the beginning of rehearsal was scrapped by the end of rehearsal. Oh well. It's probably better as I think I strained my back in rehearsal a couple of nights ago. I'm going to try to get a massage this weekend. Now that my weekends are clearing up a little bit.

I'm excited to direct my show in the fall. I talked to another company member who had some really good suggestions for me on how I could improve the script and I like what she had to say. There are a lot of songs in it. I hope I get some really good actors to work with who can really hit it, you know? And I'm excited to work with them movement-wise and so on and so forth. I think this could be a really good show.

I feel a little bit bad about not raising as much money for the Avon Walk as I did last year, for not putting together as many events. I've been busy, though. And it sounds like I might get to play another gig between now and the Walk, so I can hopefully sell another disc or two, or collect tips or something and donate those to the Walk. This other gig makes me happy because it is through the same people who I booked my benefit, but a different venue, and they asked if I wanted to come in and play. Meaning they liked how Saturday night turned out. Yay!

I'm going to help my theater friend with a film in the next couple of weeks. And I'll have purple eyes in it. I'm looking forward to that part. But it makes me think that I should go to the eye doctor sooner as opposed to later so I could order actual prescription color contacts that I could then just have for fun. Fucknut once told me I should get cat eye contact lenses and I'm like, "Hi, my name is KITTY." He said, "I hadn't even thought of it like that." Uh huh. I have always wanted yellow contacts so I could walk around with sunglasses and if someone got in my way, I could tip the glasses and ask them to move and watch them freak out. Yes, I'm odd like that.

And I think that's about all the rambling I have in me for right now. It's time to get more tea.

So good to see my boys in blue out on the field again. I resurrected my walkman from 1984 (?) so I could use the radio to listen to the end of the game while I was at rehearsal last night. Yes, I'm turning into one of those. I can't help it. Chicago Cubs baseball makes me happy. And what made me really happy is that out of the Cubs 16 runs last night, there were only two home runs -- a three-run shot and a solo shot, I think. Meaning that the majority of the runs scored were scored through teamwork and base hits. That is what has been lacking in the Cubs offense for the past couple of years. We've been way too dependent on our long ball hitters and when they are having an off-day, we lose. But if we can/have turned that around so that we can still score runs without knocking the ball out of the park, I think we could pick up a lot of the games we might otherwise have lost. "Losing" Sammy and Alou might have actually been good for the team.

Regardless, it was just the first game of the season, so it may be too early to speculate. Zambrano was nervous and got pulled way early, and then ejected. Relax, man, relax. But I really enjoyed watching and listening to the game yesterday. Chicago feels like home again, now that the Cubbies are back in action. Hooray for summer!

It's Opening Day!

Go Cubs Go
Go Cubs Go
Hey, Chicago, what do you say?
The Cubs are going to win today!

Yay! My beloved boys in blue are back! I can listen to all of their games on the radio. I can watch games live, or on TV. I can keep a running tally of how many games they've won and how many they've lost. And I can rub it in the faces of all of those naysayers out there when the Cubs have a great year, despite no longer having Alou and Sosa. We've got a good team this year. A strong team. And I think we'll make a good showing.

Now the only question is, how am I going to last until four o'clock this afternoon when the game starts?

It is honestly the simplest things in life that make me happiest. I love it when my cat eats. I love it when my cat talks to me. I love making music. I love eating fresh vegetables. I love it when I can open my windows. I love tea. When all of those things happen in the same day, it's a really good day.

Yesterday was an amazing day. The show went really well -- quick thank you list: the Heartland Cafe, Phil Circle, Jeremy Babcock, Devon Ford, Jenna Murfin, Richard Milne, and everyone who came out to see the show. You guys are amazing and we raised over $350 for the Avon Walk. Not too shabby.

I think most of all, though, I really had fun playing last night. I just relaxed into it, did my thing, and had fun. People told me after the show that I just put on a good live show. It kind of amazes me that I am now able to go put on a show like this, considering how afraid I used to be of singing. That makes me happiest of all.

If the green-eyed monster is the jealousy monster, what color eyes does the self-doubt monster have? I can't quite see them. I'm busy burying my own head in the sand.

This happens every time, so I should be used to it by now. But I'm sitting here, burning a bunch of CDs ("Extra-Ordinary") to bring to the show tomorrow night and to mail to people who have said they want one, and the little voice appears in the back of my head -- "What am I going to do with all of the extras? What if nobody wants one? Sure, a handful of out of towners want me to mail them one, but I'm making a bunch. What the hell am I going to do with all of these CDs?"

I can't blame people for not wanting to buy a disc. I can't force them to buy a disc. Sure, the proceeds go to a good cause, but some people would rather just donate money than take a disc they don't want. What if all of this time and effort and energy is wasted? Or, worse, what if people buy the disc and feel gypped because they were made in my house with a color printer and a CD burner? They're not top-notch, you know. They're homemade. Is that crappy? Will they think that's crappy?

I should give my friends and family more credit. It's not about the packaging, it's about the musical contents, and the musical contents of this disc are really good. I'm amazed, still, at the work and thought and effort and talent that went into these remixes. Hell, the one is now going to be played in a bar on a regular basis. And it is all for charity.

Someday, I'll have a full band and I'll make a beautiful, shiny, sweet-smelling CD that gets printed somewhere far away and has pretty, slick, shiny liner notes full of juicy tidbits that are easy to digest. I've produced two CDs. I've been on two radio stations. I've played live in I don't even know how many venues. I guess my next goal should be a studio album, huh? Start saving the pennies!

After the Avon Walk.

The only problem with it is I can't see it.

I'm nervous excited for the show tomorrow night. I'm listening to my WLUW radio appearance right now (thank you to my friend who recorded and emailed it to me!) and I'm praying that between this appearance, the two plays on WXRT (both times it was the same thing and "Hamburg" was played) that people actually show up. I have done all I can do to get the word out there about this show; I just hope people show up.

This interview is pretty cute. Thank you again to Jenna for having me on air!

I love thunderstorms. Big, nasty, icky ones where the sky is green and yellow and gray and the sound of the rain against your windows drowns out all other noises in your abode and every once in a while, the whole sky lights up for a split second like it is daytime on a sunny afternoon. I love thunderstorms. We had a nice one last night. So nice, in fact, that I turned off the tele and took a nap on my couch, so that I could enjoy the raindrops on my window the way they should be enjoyed. Hooray for spring finally coming!

It's yellow outside.

Wow, since the last time I posted, I've been on the radio twice. How weird is that?

Last night, they played "Hamburg" on WXRT and mentioned all of the important information about the show on Saturday. I can't even tell you what it felt like to hear my own voice, my own song on the radio, on my favorite station, nonetheless. Every muscle in my body had the energy of an atomic bomb, all wanting to explode all at the same time, but I was at rehearsal, so I couldn't really. Fucknut swung by and we jumped around outside like idiots for about five minutes. I think that's what I like best about my relationship with him right now -- we've both seen each other at our worst, so there's no reason to hold anything back. If there is somebody I could go apeshit in front of, without worrying about being distasteful, it's fucknut. Strange how things change like that. But anyway, I'm so glad he was there to go nuts with me. In retrospect, it was like something out of a movie -- I was that stupid and jumpy and screachy -- but I couldn't help it. There is nothing like hearing yourself on the radio. Nothing.

And then today, I did the interview on WLUW, which, of course, I couldn't hear, but I will be getting a copy of it on Saturday. I think it went well. My mom says it sounded good. I was a little nervous playing -- I should have stood up instead of sitting -- but I played "Mona Lisa" which is okay if my voice is a little trepidacious at times. But more than anything, it was fun. It was fun to go into the studio and talk about music and the benefit for a few minutes and play a tune. And I got into my car afterwards and drove away and realized that not a single person out there would know that I was just on the radio. Even if they were listening to the show, they wouldn't know that was me. I kind of like that. I get to do these amazing things that other people, for the most part, don't, and then I get to go about my life like a normal person.

So yeah, I get to hear myself on the radio again tomorrow night. I don't know that I can handle the excitement. If my life was like this all the time, I'd have nothing to complain about and what fun would that be?

Tee hee.

I always said that the one thing I don't want to do is direct. But now I'm staring down two directorial opportunities and I'm looking forward to them. I am not frightened. I am not turned off. I am not wishing I could perform instead. I'm looking forward to putting together a whole vision and working with actors and crew to make that vision happen. How weird is that?

I am, however, getting nervous for the show on Saturday. I'm hoping all of the radio time this week will get more people there. I hope my friends will show up. You can only send out so many reminders, you know? And even sending out reminders doesn't guarantee that people will remember to show up. I guess I need to get to the place where I just say, "I've done what I can; the rest is up to fate," and let it go. Enjoy the show. Enjoy putting the discs together. Enjoy the other guy's sets. Enjoy playing out. I'd say I've got some pretty good media coverage for this -- we're listed in papers and we'll be mentioned on air. I probably could have put out a few more flyers, but with my schedule...I'm hoping the other guys put out a few. I guess what will be will be. And even if only ten people show up, that's $70 to the Avon Walk, and like I keep saying, every dollar counts. Every dollar helps.

Ugh. I'll have more interesting things to talk about next week when this is all over. But in the meantime, don't forget to listen to me on the radio, tonight on XRT at 8:45, tomorrow afternoon on WLUW at 2:30, and Thursday night on WXRT at 10:45. And don't forget to come to the show! It will be fun, I promise.

I feel like I'm being really distasteful when I talk about my music and the fact that this is going to be a good week for me. I don't ever want to lose this feeling of "Holy shit, people actually like my art!" That's half the fun of it. I love sharing my art with people and getting feedback, be it positive or negative. I love the amazement that comes with positive feedback. I love the motivation that comes from negative feedback. I don't ever want to get blase about it and walk around saying, "Oh, yeah, I'm a musician. Don't you recognize me?" or anything like that. I like geeking out about the fact that I'm going to be on XRT and WLUW this week. Radio play is a pretty major thing in the life of a musician, and here I am getting it this week. I don't want that to ever get old.

I guess what I am trying to say is that with me, the humility thing is not an act. I thank each and every one of you who has come to a show or listened to my songs online or bought a CD. You have no idea what you mean to me. Yes, I would still be making music if you weren't there, but it is so much more fun for me to get to share it with people. And for that, I thank you, from the very bottom of my heart. Thank you.

I am a musician. A real musician. Not only am I doing a radio interview on Wednesday, but one of my songs (the version my theater friend remixed) was played in a bar last night and people actually danced to it, and I believe I will be getting radio play on WXRT (my favorite Chciago radio station) on Tuesday and Thursday of this week. I sent in my disc about a month ago to the guy who does the program called Local Anesthetic -- it features Chicago artists -- with a poster for my show on Saturday and said if he could play a tune and mention the gig, that would be fantastic. I got an email today that says he'll play it Tuesday at 8:45 pm and Thursday at 10:45 pm. I don't know what song he's going to play, but talk about great press for the show! And, I'll be on two radio stations in one week. I can't wait to hear it! And hear what the DJ says. Yes, I'm a dork, and I probably shouldn't be posting this where people can actually read it, but I'm excited. I'm going to play live on the radio, my disc will be played on the radio, my song was played in a bar last night, and I get to do a show on Saturday. This is a very good week for me, musically speaking.

I am a musician. A real musician.

Today is a religious holiday for many many people. In some people's estimations, today is one of the three high holy days in the Christian religion. I know a lot of people don't have to work today. I do. Of course. But I thought I'd talk about religion for a bit.

The name "Good Friday" always struck me as kind of odd, considering what happened on this day. If you've seen "Passion of the Christ," you know it really wasn't a very good day for anyone involved. Probably the best part of the day was when he actually died because that meant he wasn't suffering anymore.

But I remember as a kid being very confused by Good Friday for several reasons. First off being the name, like I said. But also because here it is March (or sometimes April) and we are celebrating Jesus' death and rebirth. And three months ago (not even), we were celebrating Jesus' birth. Um. If he was just born three months ago, how is it that he is now thirty-something years old? How come we don't hear much about the interim thirty years? Sure, during the rest of the year we learn bits and pieces, about him teaching the disciples and apostles and so on and so forth. And even the bits we do hear about his actual life are all from the time he was, like, in his late twenties on. How come we don't hear stories about Jesus as a toddler? Or a teenager? What happened to his formative years? But as a small child, I just kept wondering how he grew up so fast. Is that what was so magical and wonderful about Jesus? He lived and entire lifetime in three months?

I know, I know, stupid assumption. But keep in mind, I was very young and when you are very young, you don't really pay attention to the teachings and sermons in church -- you just don't have the attention span for it. In Sunday school, though, every year, you hear the same stories for Easter and Christmas at the same time of the year, so those ones kind of stick with you. And you probably do fun projects in Sunday school for those holidays, too. Whereas the rest of the year is devoted to covering the entire rest of the Bible. It gets muddled. You get confused. But you know that he was born in December and he died in March. (Or April. How come we have the exact date of his birth, but the date he died changes every year?) If nothing else, you know he was born in December and died in March. (Or April.) Am I the only one who was confused by this? Probably. That's okay. Religion is confusing.

So yeah, Happy Good Friday to those of you who celebrate it. I'm sorry that a man who was interested in teaching us all to love each other was treated so horribly on this day so many years ago. I'm not sure how to celebrate that, other than to maybe let the people around me know that I love them. You know, so his death will mean something or whatever. Sweet jebus, did I just become Christian? I hope not. Happy Good Friday, everyone. I love you.

So my friend who had back surgery on Tuesday is supposedly coming home today. I talked to her fiance last night and he said she was doing well. In pain, but that's to be expected after surgery. But for the most part, doing well. In good spirits. That kind of thing.

But, while he was taking care of her, he asked me to run a rehearsal of Floss!. It was kind of cool to go in there in a sort of directorial capacity. Granted, I had to deflect most of the questions to the actual directors upon their return because I don't want to be messing with their vision of the show, but it was interesting to get a taste of what it is like to be in charge. Which is good, because I'll need to know that stuff when I direct my kids show in the fall. And while I have never in the past wanted to direct, I'm getting kind of excited about this show. I like my script. I think it could be a really fun, entertaining show for the kids. And I think I will enjoy directing it. Shaping it into what I want it to look like on stage. I'm probably being overly optimistic. But it's good when a director enters into a project with an excess of positive energy and faith in the project. It tends to rub off on everyone else. And, I think I have a pretty good jump on things, so hopefully it won't all be a giant crunch the week before we open. Yeah, I laughed as I said that last bit, too.

I'm not going to go into too much detail, but I just want to say that it pisses me off when people who make six or seven figures need incentives to do their jobs well. I know it is the American way to ask, "Well, what do I get out of it?" whenever one is asked to do something. But when that "something" is YOUR JOB and the "what you get out of it" is respect, credibility, greater input into how things are run, a learning experience, and the chance of advancement in the future, people should be ready, willing, and able to take on that "something." You shouldn't have to pay them, too. Especially when they are already making more money than most people will see in their entire lives.

Sorry. Corporate greed pisses me off.

So in addition to purchasing Moby's new disc, I got a lot accomplished yesterday. I figured while I was at Target, I might as well get some storage containers so I can start filling up my storage space. I got through the closet in my kitchen enough that I can actually put things in there that should go in there, like my coats and my ironing board. I know Owen is upset that the ironing board is not just "out" anymore (he liked to sit on it), but I really like having a kitchen that I can walk through again. And I may get a table one of these days that he can jump on all he likes.

But yeah, it felt good to sort through that closet. I got rid of a lot of scrap fabric that was too small to make anything out of anymore. I sorted through my old make up and got rid of the non-vegan stuff, and a bunch of dead hair bands and the like. I swept my bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom floors, and did three loads of laundry. I cleaned off my desk, too. I always feel better about myself when my desk isn't so cluttered. I even cleaned out one of the drawers, so it makes a little more sense.

Next, I'm going to tackle my bedroom closet. I know there is a lot of stuff in there that could go down into storage, like my hat collection and my luggage and whatnot. An uncluttered life is a happy life. As is a life filled with Moby music. I'm really digging this new CD. It is very "Animal Rights," in that it starts out all hyper and rock and roll and ends a little more chill. It takes you on an emotional journey, and I think it is a journey of lonliness. I can't wait to see these songs performed live. *sigh* I love Moby.

I'm going to be on the radio!

The other night after playing the open mic at the Grafton, I met the lovely Jenna Murfin who has her own radio show. She asked if I would like to come on her show to talk about the Benefit Concert and to play a tune and I, of course, jumped at the chance. My first radio appearance! Made that much more exciting and important by the fact that I'm doing it in the name of the Avon Walk.

So next Wednesday, March 30, tune your radio to 88.7 FM, or if you can't get a signal there, you can listen to it streaming online at WLUW.org. Her show is from 2-4pm (Central Time), and I should be on there somewhere in the neighborhood of 2:30. I'm so excited! Now I just have to figure out what song to play...

One of my dear friends is having back surgery today. It is minimally invasive and she should be fine, but still, it's back surgery. So if you can, please send happy thoughts to my friend so that everything goes smoothly and she recovers quickly.

Thanks!

I love music. I just do. Growing up, I would never have considered myself a "music person." I was a "movie person." I knew all about movies, I knew movies that other people had never heard of, blah, blah, blah. I don't buy many CDs and I don't know many artists and I have a hard time calling myself a "music person" because of that. But I kind of decided this morning that I am a music person. I love making music. I love listening to music. I love the power contained in music to move others, either to dance or weep or think or whatever. Music is truly amazing and I am so blessed that I have musical talent. One musician whom I really respect called me "A white girl who can sing like that," which doesn't sound like much when taken out of context, but I took it as a huge compliment. After playing an open mic last night, I met a couple of people who are interested in buying my disc, and one woman with a radio show who asked me to be on it. (Though until that is confirmed, I'm not going to give out details, so shhh!) And with the wonders of the internet, I get messages from people all over the country who like my music, or other musicians who want to do shows with me or so on and so forth. It's amazing. It's astounding. I get to do something that I love, and other people enjoy it, too. How did I get so lucky?

Moby's new album comes out today. Today is a good day.

In all truth, my hair is growing back pretty fast. I am still not opposed to doing things to make it grow faster, though. My pre-natal vitamins shipped today. I should have them by the end of the week, assuming the rat bastard shipping company that I hate more than most children hate lima beans delivers it properly. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

I've also been thinking recently about looking into white hair dye. I have one gray hair. Just one, hanging out all by itself. I think that when my hair goes gray, it will be silvery, like that of my great aunts. And honestly, with the texture of my hair, if it is silvery, it will be gorgeous. So I've thought about giving it a spin. But I don't think they make white hair dye. C'est la vie. La vie.

You know, I never would have thought of white underwear as being sexy, but I have to say that I feel particularly sexy in by new white underwear today. I don't know if it is the cut of the bra, or the fact that there is a little flower on the panties (I know, we all hate that word), but this is cute white underwear.

Too much information, I know. Here's the thing:

I wear very boring clothing. I don't like to draw attention to myself with bright colors and whatnot. I also think that if my clothes are somewhat bland, people are more apt to pay attention to who I am and what I am about, instead of making some snap judgment about what "type" I am. I could be wrong -- people could be making the snap judgment that I am a bland person. But anyway, that's why I wear boring clothes.

BUT

I like fun underwear. At least slightly more fun than my ordinary clothes. It is where my personality manifests. Which is why when I wear my purple sequined bra, I sometimes like to show it off. What fun is underwear like that if nobody gets to see it? Granted, I don't walk around randomly flashing people just for the sake of flashing people. But I like to know, at the very least, that I have interesting underwear on. Yes, I try to have it match. If it matches my outfit, even better. Or if can compliment my outfit, that works, too, like a black bra under a white shirt. I think you get the idea -- I like to have fun with the bits that people don't get to see.

Which kind of brings me around to the fact that people don't see these bits. Not even one particularly lucky guy. I really don't want a relationship right now. I really, honestly, adamantly don't want one. I had a crush on someone for a while there, and I might still -- I'm not sure. But even the thought of entering into a relationship with him is off-putting. I like being single. I like not looking for a partner. Is that wrong? Is there something wrong with me that I don't crave that bond like so many other people do?

I think I have some ideas as to why I don't crave that, and they go back to baggage in my life that I may have dealt with badly, or that I may not have dealt with at all. We'll not delve into all of that. But the result is that I'm not interested. Does that make me unhealthy? I don't know. I honestly don't. If I am okay with and happy with my decision to not be romantically involved with anyone, regardless of the events in my life which have brought me to that decision, does that mean that decision is an unhealthy one? Does that make me damaged? Can a person be healthy on their own? I would tend to think that most people would say no. Society certainly seems to think that people should pair off -- couples talk free with certain cell phone plans, they sell biscuits in two-packs now, etc. Is there honestly something wrong with me that I don't want to be paired off?

Which, of course, means I'll meet the perfect guy for me tomorrow. Probably while I'm buying Moby's disc. Stupidfey Fate and her twisted sense of humor.

Mission accomplished! I purchased jeans and underwear and it took me under an hour.

m00t.

How many random thoughts can one girl smash into one blog entry? Let's find out.

I only have one performance of Floss! left. I've been in this show for two years and now it is coming to an end. Not the show, just my stint in it. I have no idea what I am going to do with my Saturday nights now. And even though it has not been as fun as of late as it was when I first joined the cast, I'm going to miss it. Two years is a lot of time to invest in a project.

Monkey SARS is really annoying. I think I even have swollen glands. I'm thinking maybe I should go see my doctor because I don't want a repeat of last year's benefit concert wherein I couldn't sing.

I have a friend going in for back surgery on Tuesday. Please think happy thoughts for her.

I can't stop listening to the Melville Mix of Ordinary. I know it was entirely someone else who produced this version of the song, but it was inspired by my little song. And to have something so amazing created out of something I created...I feel like a real musician or something. This song is beautiful.

Moby's new disc comes out on Tuesday, too. The wait will finally be over!

I'm going to do some shopping today, for clothes. *gasp* I'm going to see if I can find a new pair of jeans and some new underwear. It is so weird to have money so that I don't have to feel completely strange about purchasing things that I need. So bizarre.

So the idea has been planted in the back of my mind that maybe I'd like to move to New York sometime soon. Like December or January. I'd go sooner, but the kids show I'm directing will run through November at least and I don't want to have to leave the show in someone else's hands, you know? That's not very fair to them.

My hair is growing pretty fast. I'm excited to have hair again.

I think that's about it for now. I'm going to eat a tomato and go shopping before the kids show today. m00t.

I got an email this morning from a RAT cast member, saying how much he missed us and missed doing the show. It made me cry. Honestly. Why is it so hard to get over this show?

I'm wearing Simone's earrings today.

I'm toying with the idea of taking vitamin E so that my hair will grow faster. It grows pretty fast as it is. This morning, when I got out of the shower, I had little wet clumps of hair on my head. When your hair is uber short, it isn't long enough to stick together when it is wet. My hair is just about long enough to stick together when wet. m00t. Oh, yeah, since I love the word moot so much, but I keep saying w00t all of the time, I've decided to combine them into m00t. See how long it takes for people to catch on to the fact that I'm saying m00t instead of w00t.

Yes, the Monkey SARS has altered my brain chemistry.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled morning. Reminder: at 2:00 today, there is a Cubs game on. And on Tuesday, Moby's CD will be available for purchase. That is all.

Ugh. Monkey SARS is getting old. I want it to go away. I want to feel human again!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everybody.

I have to say that it irritates me that St. Patrick's Day has become the ordeal that it has become. It is a day to celebrate your Irish Catholic heritage. Not being Catholic, I have always seen it as a day to celebrate my Irish heritage. As a person who only knows bits and pieces of her ethnic background, I was always proud of the fact that I am Irish. Yes, the Irish have a reputation for being drunken louts. But ask anyone who has been to Ireland and they will tell you that the Irish are beautiful, welcoming, friendly people. We've just had a rough go of things and found that lubricating our troubles with a nice stout whiskey or beer or both makes life that much easier to swallow. But think about it: my family came over here many many moons ago because there was no food in Ireland and they were hoping for a better life. When they got here, they had to work pissant jobs to eek out enough money to feed their ever-growing families. But they did it. They did what they had to do. And because of them, I am who I am. I am where I am. I have a decent (though infuriating) job, I have rights, I have a good education behind me. No, the Irish were not brought over as slaves, but we did struggle and suffer a lot when we got here. The Irish were used as cheap labor, laughed at, and beaten. And one day a year, I like to celebrate the fact that they overcame that. I like to celebrate my ancestors, what I know of them anyway.

So I apologize if I find it irksome that everyone and their grandmother decides to be Irish for the most convenient weekend near St. Patrick's Day so they can go out with their friends, get piss drunk, and fake bad Irish accents. There is more to it than that, and until you go into a real Irish pub and hear the locals singing some beautiful tune about love and loss and longing, I don't think you'll get it. Which is fine. Just please forgive me if I don't take part in your drunken revelry. I will choose to drink a Guinness (despite it's non-vegan nature) on March 17th in honor of those who went before me. I think it's only proper.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, kids.

I'm more and more excited about this new show I'm working on every time I listen to the song I get to sing. I like it. The guy who is doing the choreography for the song said its very Danny Elfman, which I guess it is and may explain why I like it so much. But yeah, this could be a really fun show. I hope that it will be. And it has much more crass humor in it than the last one (though not as much as some I've done in the last year), so maybe people will actually come to see it. Who knows.

So the job I was totally geeked about interviewing for turned out to be a sort of pyramid scheme with a lot of fancy terminology. Fuck. I feel stupid for sticking around for the whole day. I'm annoyed that I didn't go home as soon as my feet started screaming. I'm irritated that I took two days off of work to try to pursue this job.

So I'm still employed at my old job, but I'm still suffering from monkey SARS. I'm hoping none of the rest of you have monkey SARS. It's really not fun.

On the upside, I got a lot of exercise yesterday. And I went to my first rehearsal for the new show I'm doing at Corn and I actually think I like the song I get to sing better than the song I was fighting so hard to sing before. Though here's the kicker -- the guy cast in the part I wanted dropped out. So they're still looking for someone to play the part I wanted. Oh well. They should have cast me. Oh, wait. They did. In another role. I don't know what I'm talking about. I have monkey SARS. Leave me alone.

One week from today = Moby's new album. w00t.

Pretty much everyone at my theater is or was recently sick, most of us with the same thing. We're calling it Monkey SARS. It is very much not fun. The marked symptom is a completely unproductive cough. I can feel the phlegm in my throat, waiting to loosen up and come out of whatever orifice it can manage, but no matter how hard I cough, it just does not want to come. Great day to have a full-day job interview, huh?

Wherever you are, I hope you don't have Monkey SARS.

Oh! And if you live anywhere but the United States, go out and buy Moby's "Hotel" today. Those of us in the States have to wait until next Tuesday. But if you can go get it today, go get it today. It is good. From what I have heard thus far. I'm excited for next Tuesday.

Sweet jebus, I'm going to sound like a ninny in this post and I apologize for that. I miss my show. It's like I just broke up with someone. I know it won't really hit me until Wednesday, when I don't have a show to do, or maybe it will hit me tomorrow when I show up at rehearsal for another show, but I'm sad about it right now. I haven't been this emotionally invested in a show in a really long time. I'm trying to figure out why I'm so attached to this show. It's not like it had some deep, meaningful message that would change the world. And it's not like I'll never see these people again. I don't know. I just miss this show. I think I need to have a little funeral for Simone (my character) or something, to put the whole thing behind me.

Sorry. I'll be better soon.

Mmm...Chicago Cubs baseball...

And done.

I cried on stage last night and got misty during the curtain call. Last night was our best performance, and our biggest audience. What a joy to go out on such a high note.

And those of you who don't live hundreds of miles away who didn't come to see this show -- you're fired.

So I have to remind myself constantly that nothing in life is permanent. I was sad yesterday. Today, I woke up and had spaghetti for breakfast, watched some Kung Fu ("Hero" which is amazing, by the way, and I'm not normally a Kung Fu movie fan), and I have a job interview to go to in a couple of hours. Oh. And even though I didn't get the part that I wanted, the director called me and we chatted for a little while and he really wants me in the show in another role, that I hadn't even considered. It's a bigger role, but I told him it was never about stage time; it was about the depth of the character. He feels that this other role he offered me is just as complex and layered and textured and he thinks I could do wonderful things with it. How could I turn that down? No, I don't eat butter anymore, but I'm not immune to it. So I'm in the show.

So I go from being sad about my job to having an interview that I am excited about. I go from being sad that I wasn't cast to having one of the four leads. I go from being sad that there are only two performances of RAT left to being even sadder that there is only one, but I know that this cast will continue to work together. We all want that. All of us.

Remember, Kitty. Nothing is permanent. Things always change. Sometimes for the better; sometimes for the worse. But they always change. Take comfort in that.

I'm sad today. I'm not going to be working at Wrigley this summer because I can't make it to training. I didn't get the part because I'm not a boy. I'm still here at my job where I can't even talk to my boss because he's so busy. And we only have two performances of "Real Aural Talent" left. Which makes me sad because it's almost over, but also makes me sad because of how few of my friends came to see it. I know they say the first mark of "making it" is when you are no longer doing shows for your family and friends. But this is an important part of my life that I would like to be able to share with my friends, you know? And its just a damn entertaining bit of theater. It makes me sad that people who were so happy to support me years ago when I was doing shit theater (literally, I was covered in "shit") can't or won't come see me do something good. I don't know what that says about me or them or our relationships as they now stand, but from none of those perspectives does it strike me as being a good thing. And that makes me sad.

So I'm sad today. I'll feel better later, I'm sure. But for now, I'm sad.

I'm wearing my purple sequined bra today to prove to the people in my show that I have one. This bra makes my boobs a force to be reckoned with.

This tea I bought yesterday is really good. And when you're done drinking it, you have leaves. Actual, full leaves. Not shrived, semi-expanded bits of something that looks like bark. Nothing powdery. Actual leaves. Like someone just skinned a branch of a tree and put it in a pot of water. I don't know why I am impressed by this, but I am.

Thus spake the Queen of the Non-Sequitor.

So if you were to ask me right now, I would tell you that I did not get the part. I honestly don't think I got it. And I don't think it was because of my reading -- I would like to say that I got a nice mix of drunk-trying-to-maintain with losing control with sad-about-her-dead-kid going on. Other people at the audition remarked that they were impressed with my reading. It might have been a smidge too similar to the character in the film, but it was markedly different from the other guy they wanted to read for the part. But if anything, I am going to say it was my singing that screwed me. Singing with the rest of the group, I was fine. I actually sounded quite good. The three lines I had to sing by myself, were higher than I would have liked them to be, so I sounded, well, crappy. And honestly, I would tell the director to cast an amazing singer in this role because the acting can be worked on easier. And the other guy they had read for the part had a much stronger voice than I did. More nasal, but a lot stronger. I dunno. I don't think I got it. Which is fine. It will be nice to have some time off. To not spend every night of my life at that same theater. I could audition for other stuff, or start working out again. Get some training in for the Walk. That kind of thing.

On a completely unrelated note, I went shopping for a dress yesterday. w00t. Yeah. We all know how much I love shopping. I didn't find anything I really liked, and I went to the stores that I really enjoy now. But all of the dresses they have right now are these clingy knit dresses that show off every bulge, every ounce of fat that is where it shouldn't be. There was one that I found that was kind of fun, but it was a little hoochie mama for me. Maybe if I had slut-able hair it would have worked, but I think my hair is a whopping 3/8 of an inch long right now. If that. So I didn't get anything. I bought tea instead, because I found a tea shop on Belmont. One of my friends kind of mentioned that there was one there, but I had forgotten about it. Very cute little place. Helpful staff. Great selection, except in the white tea arena. They only had four white teas. About a million blacks and greens, but only four whites. So I got one. Pai Mu Tan. It's not bad. I think I need to brew it a little stronger next cup, but it's pretty good. I'm satisfied.

Oh, and I bought this new lotion the other day because I had run out and it smells like peaches. So here I sit in my office, hating my job as much as ever, but drinking yummy white tea and smelling of peaches. I guess it could be worse. I won't even think about the fact that tonight begins the final three shows of "Real Aural Talent." That will only make me sad.

So no matter how much work I've done over the past however many years to get comfortable singing in front of people, no matter how good it feels to be on stage with my guitar singing my songs, no matter how many open mics I go to whereat I play "Ordinary," I still am 100% completely uncomfortable doing an acapella singing audition. I blew last night! Really blew. Oh well. I was kind of hoping for a break anyway because I've been going non-stop at the theater since January. But I really love this one song in the next show and I know I could sing the hell out of it if I had the opportunity to do so. Meh. I'll go to callbacks tonight and do the best I can and if I am not cast in that role, I just might skip the show entirely. I hate to be a diva about it, but it would be hard to be backstage listening to someone else sing the song that I wanted to and then to have to go out and perform something I wasn't so passionate about. Meh. We'll see. We all know I'm crazy enough that I might just take a bit part in the show for shits and grins. Meh. We'll see.

Ugh.

Okay, so we had a fire drill this morning at work. w00t.

It was fifty degrees and sunny yesterday. And it is supposed to snow tonight. Not w00t.

I don't know exactly when "w00t" became my thing and it kind of bothers me that it has. I wanted to integrate "fancy" into my daily lexicon, but "w00t" seems to have won out. Though I use it for totally different things.

I only have three performances left of "Real Aural Talent." That makes me sad.

I only have two performances left of "Floss!" That makes me happy, though I have no idea what I am going to do with my Saturday nights, apart from my concert and the Moby concert.

I can't decide if I should fight for the role I want in the next Corn show, or if I should just step back and take a break now. To be perfectly honest, either would be fine with me.

I need to take a day or two off and clean my house. I mean really clean it. Now that I have a storage space, I can clean things out of there and reorganize and whatnot. But seeing as I have no weekends now because of the kids show, I need to take a couple of days off to do it. Drat.

Sorry. I'm kind of blah today. I don't really have anything to do at work, so I'm just trying to pass the time. w00t. Though tonight is the first night in probably a month and a half that I have not had to go to the theater. But I might go anyway because fucknut is auditioning and I might just go with him for fun. And, if I decide to audition, I could probably just jump in then.

Meh. I'll be more entertaining later, I promise. Right now, I think I need more tea.

I just bought my Moby tickets. I just bought my Moby tickets. I get to see Moby in concert. I get to see Moby in concert.

Imagine, if you will, me. Jumping twenty feet in the air, arms outstretched, mouth open so wide in a barbaric yawp of excitment that I resemble an anime character, hooting and hollering loud enough for them to hear me on the lower east side of Manhattan. That is what I feel like right now. I cannot wait for this show. I bought enough tickets that other people can go with me if they want, but if I have to get rid of them on eBay and I go by myself, that's fine, too. I just can't frickin' wait for this show!!!

I just bought my Moby tickets. I just bought my Moby tickets. I get to see Moby in concert. I get to see Moby in concert.

This time, I honestly mean it when I say w00t.

w00t!

How sad is it that I have become a tea snob? As in, I can honestly say I prefer white tea to green tea. And I have a favorite brand of tea. And so on and so forth. Sweet bippy, I'm pathetic.

But I really do love my white tea. I almost think I have to treat myself today and order some of the silver needle white tea from Teany. Yes, it is expensive, but it's so good. How nice would it be to start my day off with a cup of that? Or come home to a cup of that after a long night at the theater? I'm actually doing okay financially now. Getting out of debt was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. And seeing as I have not heard back from either Wrigley Field or the other place I interviewed, I probably won't be leaving my current job very soon. Meaning if I want to splurge and buy myself the most amazing tea I have ever had, I should be able to, right? Right. I've spent the past, I dunno, fourteen years? (ever since I got my first job) scrimping and saving and counting every penny and making every cent count. Right now, I'm doing okay. And if I want to splurge on tea, I think I deserve it.

I'm good at this justification thing, huh?

The managing director of my theater company had her baby this morning! A little girl -- Beverly Gwendolyn. Congratulations to the Hay family!

I look forward to meeting you, Beverly. Happy birthday, and welcome to Chicago.

The best thing and the worst thing about theater is that it is temporary. I love it because every show is different, every performance is different, every director and script and cast is different and that allows a lot of opportunity for growth and change and experimentation and education. But it's terrible because every few weeks, you lose your friends. Sure, everyone says, "Let's stay in touch!" but it very seldom actually happens.

I love my current cast. We only have two weeks left of the show. Six more performances, and then these people will scatter to the winds. They might stay on my e-mail list. I might see them at a party in the future, completely accidentally. But I will not see them three times a week anymore. They will not be ever present in my life. Which makes me unspeakably sad. I'll try to say in touch and they might, too, but I'm guessing it just won't happen. It will be like all other shows in that respect.

Which means I have to savor these last six performances. Savor the time I get to spend working with these people. And I thank all of them for making this a wonderful theatrical experience for me. Thank you.

Rabbit rabbit.

The managing director of my theater company went into labor last night. I don't know if she's had the baby yet or not, but how exciting is that? She and her husband have been trying to have a baby for as long as I've known them, probably longer. And now they are going to have a little screaming, kicking, crying, cooing, loving bundle of joy. This child is going to be so loved. I can't wait to meet him/her!

Oh! I almost forgot! My happy tidbit! I got a storage space! After almost five years in my apartment, patiently waiting for one of the six storage spaces to open up, one of them finally did and I snagged it. Assuming someone didn't go down there last night and empty it again. See, the locking mechanism isn't very reliable. There is only half of it on there -- the little gate part that goes over the ring through which you put a padlock is there, but there is no little ring. So I have to stop at a hardware store on my way home and pick one up. But I put my padlock on the little gate part, and put some boxes (either empty or unimportant) in there to make it look claimed. So now, I can really go through my stuff and sort things out and make some space in my apartment. Make the closets usable. Maybe even get a table for my kitchen.

Right before I might have to move out for financial reasons.

I've gone on two (kind of three) job interviews now. I interviewed twice at Wrigley and if anything, my schedule is going to screw me out of that job. I don't think I'll be able to find an understudy for the days I would have to go to training, so I'll probably have to turn the job down. Though I might ask when/if they call me if they could pass my application along to the vendor department or the in-game presentation assistant people. But either way, that job makes no money, so I'd have to keep this one while I worked there. And the other job interview I went on yesterday had me totally nonplussed about working there. The interviewer was belching and yawning the whole time -- he "didn't get enough sleep the night before." He asked me about six times why they should hire me, what is impressive about me. I should have said, "I showed up for a 9:30 am interview on a Sunday without a hangover. That should impress you enough to give me the job." But even so, again, we're talking about a job that makes no money, is farther away from home than my current job, and that I'm pretty sure I would get tired of very quickly. While I would not be opposed to learning how to drive a bus, I'm okay with not knowing how to drive a bus, too. Meh. We'll see.

I guess this is the good thing about looking for a job while I still have one -- I can be picky. It all just depends on how badly I want to get away from here/how much I'm willing to put up with. But seeing as I just got a storage space, I'm kind of inclined to take a job that will allow me to stay in the apartment I am currently in. I love it there, I really do. And now that I can actually save some money, I can turn it into a really nice home.

We'll see. The future is not set. Okay -- that's the other thing that pissed me off about the Oscars. Since when is the "Terminator 2" theme song the Oscar theme song? Granted, me and Brad Fidel (the composer) are probably the only people who noticed, but what the hell? Anyway, I just have to remember that things always change and I always have options. Hell, I might end up going to Iowa to reprise my role in "Real Aural Talent," which will, by then, be called "Natural Talent," and contain the word "bippy" a lot more than it already does. We'll see. Nothing is set in stone. But for the time being, I'm still at my desk, geeking about the fact that I now have a storage space. Life looks so much rosier when you don't have so much clutter.

Thoroughly unimpressed by the Oscars this year. It did, of course, make me want to be an actor. But by the same token, I wasn't really impressed by anyone's speeches, Chris Rock's jokes were sad at best. After the Bush jokes, it was all downhill from there. And why did we have Beyonce sing three songs? Most importantly, why did we have Beyonce sing a song that the Phantom was supposed to sing. Why not have that Josh kid sing that one, seeing as he is a classically trained opera singer. And male.

I dunno. Meh. I want to be an actor, but we all already know that. Time for me to take some action. Dun dun dun!

"I'm not going to bash Bush," says Chris Rock. And then he continues with his monologue. Sweet jebus. He said what I've been saying all along. "Imagine you worked at the GAP and your register came up 70 trillion dollars short." Brilliant.

The rest of the monologue, meh. Eh. I'll talk more about the Oscars later. I just had to mention that.

I know they're just trying to be fair in the sale of Cubs tickets, but I've been in the virtual waiting room for an hour and a half now. Cubs are like crack -- I need a fix! If I can just get tickets today to the one, maybe two games that I'd really like to go to, I'll come back next week and buy more. I just want the one game! Please? Pretty please? What if I promise to flash someone while I'm there? Or if I promise to not propose to my New York guy friend? What if I promise to play strike out make out with whoever I take to the game, unless it happens to be my brother 'cuz that's just icky. Pretty please? I have money to give you, Cubbies. Why won't you take it?

Can it please be March 22 today? Please? Moby put out a free sampling of all of the songs on "Hotel" on iTunes and it is wonderful. I am so looking forward to this album. I have one friend who says he doesn't normally like Moby very much because he's not into techno type stuff, but he likes the single "Beautiful." This friend will love this album. Its not so much techno as it is rock and roll. Not hard rock. Not metal. Not quite pop. Sure it uses synthesizers and has a couple of purely instrumental tracks, but it also uses guitars and drums and bass and all that wonderful stuff. No samples. From the samples put out, it sounds like a sort of grown up "Animal Rights." He was so angry on "Animal Rights," but as you listen to that album, you can hear the peak of his anger and then the reaction to it. The breakdown. The moment when he starts to cry at the hopelessness of it all. "Hotel" sounds to me so far like it came from the same musical place as "Animal Rights," but with different subject matter.

I dunno. I could be totally wrong. But I SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO cannot wait for this album. I cannot wait. I want to hear the whole thing right now. It also sounds like there could be a bunch of singles on here, so maybe he'll pop back into the spotlight. Who knows. Either way, I cannot wait for this album. I cannot wait for this tour.

Though in the meantime, I can get excited about the fact that Cubs tickets go on sale at 10:00 am today. At which time, I will be shutting my door and playing online for a while. Maybe one game a month? Try to, anyway. Buy the tickets now before I become totally broke.

So this review came out in Gay Chicago Magazine yesterday about the show I'm currently in, and I thought I would share it with you, and then maybe speak to a couple of semi-relavent points made therein:

"REAL AURAL TALENT"

- reviewed by Venus Zarris

One of the wonderful things about the vast plethora of small theatre companies in Chicago is that you have the opportunity to discover amazing organic treasures of brilliant, undiscovered talent. The downside is that you have to occasionally wade through raw sewage. Had I known ahead of time about "Real Aural Talent," I would have worn disposable rubber boots before viewing this indiscernible tripe. As it is, I'll have to throw out the shoes I wore to the show, because they are now covered with crap.

The biggest question that seeing a show that is this lame proposes is, "Does anyone read the script before agreeing to produce it?" How can the time, money and resources, meager as they may be in some cases, be devoted to such infantile stupidity? At some point, very early on with a script this bad, someone has to have the foresight to realize that this is not worth the effort. It is neither fun nor funny and is so problematic that is elicits more groans as a reaction than anything else. The Cornservatory is a BYOB theatre, and there were a few people who showed up with cases of beer. Perhaps that might help the viewing a bit, but I would think that this bad of a play would only waste the buzz.

A company that produces books on tape wants to set up one of its production directors to fail. It gives him the task of recording a horrible book with substandard actors. This sounded like it could be funny as a sketch, but I was suspicious about it sustaining itself for a full-length play. But who knows? Stranger topics have been attempted with excellent results, so I went in with an open mind and hopes of being entertained. But the writing is so bad that even as a five or 10-minute sketch, this would have fallen on its face.

As it is, it is two acts of ridiculous babbling and nonsensical garbage. It opens with a performance art piece that is a parody of a totally pretentious performer. The satire is adequately pompous and self-aggrandizing, and the idea is cute with good delivery, but it is simply not funny. Then there is a five to 10 minute lull before the show continues. This confusing and laughless opening does not bode well for the rest of the show.

There is a committee of company executives in hoods and robes that move around during a silly nonsensical choreographed meeting. They cryptically discuss the demise of Jeffery Banner, the book-on-tape director who they conspire to terminate. My friend asked, "Why is the Klan in this scene?" as their costumes are ludicrous. Then we move to the studio where Jeffery and his assistant, Steve, a guy with a Mohawk haircut and British accent (this is funny why?), set off to record the doomed project. It seems as if Steve's accent was thrown in just because he could do it. I can hear the rehearsal where this decision was made. Actor: "Hey! I know! I can do a real good British accent!" Director: "Cool!"

Five different people attempt to record the book, but all fail. Jeffery comments after one try, "Sweet bippy, that was awful!" Not as awful as that stupid line. "Sweet bippy?" What?

There is childish poop humor when two of the characters have to use the bathroom at the same time so they race to make it to the toilet. Ironically, they are all actually taking a shit at the same time by just being in this show.

Sadly, there is evidence of some talent in the cast, but nothing can save this atrocious script, which is all over the map bad. Unless you have a masochistic taste for exceptionally horrendous theatre, do yourself a favor and spend your evening with a real book on tape. (Zero stars)

("Real Aural Talent" runs through March 11 at Cornservatory, 4210 N. Lincoln. 312-409-6435.)

I'll let you digest for a minute.

Good?

Okay, let's start in paragraph 2. She calls the show "problematic." Okay. Where are the problems? What are the problems? Other than it being "neither fun nor funny." Okay, that's kind of subjective, don't you think? And I'm not sure what night she was there, but I do sit backstage every night and listen to the crowd and I hear WAY more laughs than groans. I discussed this with my cast mates last night, and they, too, were much more aware of laughs than groans. We're not even sure what in the show is groan-worthy. Its not a "punny" show, if you know what I mean. Except for the one night this guy threw in a "your mom" joke, but I think I was the only one who heard it because he said it kind of under his breath. Anyway. Ms. Zarris, if you'd like to point out what the eggregious problems are with the script, maybe then we could discuss them. I, for one, am kind of at a loss.

How can one go into a production suspicious of its ability to sustain a full length play, but yet with an open mind? Hmmm...

Paragraph four is about me. I am the "adequately pompous and self-aggrandizing" performance artist. I'm glad she found my idea cute and well delivered. Thank you for that. I feel I must explain what that was, though. That piece was sort of a pre-show thing. A trailer for another show, if you will. It was not part of "Real Aural Talent." It was from another show entirely, that Simone Muran performed in another venue at another time. It was intended to be a piece speaking to the death of the English language as a result of rampant computer speak. It was not intended to be funny. It was intended to make a statement. Some people find the piece funny because of how ludicrous it is that Simone can take herself seriously performing that stuff, but it was not supposed to be funny. So I guess I'm glad you didn't find it funny? Wait, I'm confused now. I don't know how to feel about paragraph four...

Just a side note: the Klan does not wear black. Nor neckties.

I have a question for you, Ms. Zarris: are British accents inherently funny? Is the only reason for having a British character in a play to make the audience laugh? Is the only reason for doing any accent in a play to make the audience laugh? Because if so, why were you not offended by the pop star's manager's southern drawl? Or at the very least, why was it not mentioned? Why is it okay to have a person with a drawl in a show, but not a person with a British accent? Do you not like the Brits for some reason? Just wondering.

And I, for one, like the phrase "sweet bippy." I would like to commend the author for finding more varied cries of disgust than, "Well shit," or "Oh, fuck." I think it adds flavor and character to the show. Not everyone has to have a potty mouth, you know.

Speaking of potties, I love how a throw-away conversation became the focal point of this review. See, in the scene, they take a break from the reading and two characters leave the stage to use the rest room. It is all of, what, three lines? Whereas there is an ENTIRE SCENE devoted to a man with flatulence problems. If you're going to focus on the potty humor in the show, how can you completely neglect that scene?

I would like to say that I am not upset by this review. Honestly. I think it is really funny and no, that is not a defense mechanism. I find the review very poorly written and "all over the map bad." I would give it negative stars if I could. I just posted it here to show how apparently off my taste in theater is.

I don't think I'm alone in my theatrical tastes, though. Every night, I hear our audiences, small as they may be sometimes, laughing heartily throughout the show. I think I told you about the guy who said, "Huh, that's funny," when I collapse on stage. And as small as our audiences have been, we've had repeat viewers. So I guess I wanted to point out this review as an example of why you should not read reviews. The reviewer is most likely looking for things other than what you are. Just because someone with a newspaper column likes a show, it doesn't mean you will, and vice versa. See the theater you want to see. Listen to the music you want to listen to. Go the movies you think look like fun. And formulate your own opinions. And if any of you out there happen to come see my show and think you can honestly give it a worse review than this one, please let me know. I'd love to read it.

So I finished writing a first draft of a children's play today and I must say, its cute. I don't know that it is jam packed with hysterical lines and gags and stuff, but I think it is something the whole family can enjoy. It has fun music and a couple of parties and broccoli and an Oingo Boingo parody that I hope would not offend Danny Elfman. My intent is not to offend Danny Elfman, or Steve Bartek or any of the other members of Oingo Boingo, but rather to pay homage to their wonderful musical abilities by (hopefully) introducing them to a new audience. Because years from now, when the kids who see this show are older, they will think back on that song and wonder where it came from, and they will learn that it was a take-off on Oingo Boingo's "Weird Science" and hopefully they will seek out "Weird Science" and other Boingo tunes and learn of the joy that is Oingo Boingo music. I want to work out a Boingo cover, too, that I can play out. Maybe "Not My Slave."

But yeah, so I have a first draft of a children's play that needs input. I'm kind of afraid to show it to my company's artistic director right away, though. Maybe I'll ask some other company members first. Then spruce it up. Then give it to the artistic director for a final review and approval.

Sounds like a plan.

So how long after a job is posted do people actually respond to it? Like, how long before the committee gets together, reviews the resumes, and starts calling people in for interviews? I know, I know, it's different for every company and every position. But usually, when I go on an audition, if I don't hear from them within a week, I assume I didn't get the position. How long do I wait before I give up thinking, "I applied for that company that sounded like it could be cool?"

I hate waiting.

So in the meantime, I'm going in for my second interview today at Wrigley Field to be part of the crowd control team this summer. I think I'd rather be a vendor. Or the scoreboard typist. But I'm going to go anyway. It would be fun to spend a summer at Wrigley.

Change is a very frightening thing. Now that the possibility of leaving my current job is staring me in the face, I'm terrified. I've finally gotten to a place where I have enough money, and I'm looking at the prospect of throwing myself into complete and total financial uncertainty. I know I'll be fine. I know there are things that I can go without and things that I can do to make my life more economical. But its scary to not know. Its scary to potentially not know where my next paycheck will come from, or how big or small it will be. Its scary. But I have to remember that one of the greatest compliments I ever received was an old classmate calling me fearless. Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias, si? Ja.

Theater Ettiquette 101:

If a theatrical performance says it will begin at 8:00 pm, do not show up to the theater at 8:30 pm and expect to be seated and/or not glared at.

Thank you.

I know it is fashionable to be late places. It is not fashionable to be late to the theater. It is rude to the actors and the rest of the audience to show up late. It pulls everyone out of the fantasy world that is the production happening on the stage. A movie, fine. You'll just piss off the other people around you. And if you don't see the first half an hour of Romantic Comedy X, chances are, you really didn't miss much. You will miss a lot of important exposition if you miss the first half hour of a play. You will piss off the other people around you, the actors, the box office staff, any involved ushers. It's really not that hard to get somewhere on time. Or, if you know you are going to get there an hour late, don't go. Suck it up and try again some other night. If you're really that concerned about wasting the money spent on the ticket, show up on time in the first place. It was important enough to you to spend $300 on Avenue Q tickets, it should be important enough to get there on time. That's all I'm sayin'.

Thank you.

So I think I'm going to call my new little song "Trite" because honestly, I think that is what music critics would call it. They would find the subject matter trite and simple. And I already have a song called "The Simple Answer," so I have to come up with something different. "Contrived" doesn't quite fit the song, and the other title option, "Someday," is even more trite than calling it "Trite." So "Trite" it is.

I want to make it clear, however, that I do not think the song is trite. The bridge is not my best bridge ever, and I'm still playing with the ending, but there was something in me that wanted to write this song, so I wrote it. And like I tell everyone who asks me for advice on writing music (which, by the way, amuses me to no end -- the girl who has never taken an actual guitar or songwriting class is being asked how to write music. I don't know what I'm doing, I'm just trying to make things sound good. Most of my songs just happen anyway. The semi-decent ones, anyway.), you have to write the crap down so it can get out of the way so good stuff can come out later, so never censor yourself. "Trite" is a song that wanted to be written, so I wrote it. I'm not saying it's excellent; I'm not saying its crap. Right now, it fills a purpose in my life and I enjoy playing it.

So what is this trite subject matter, you may ask? Well, it is about the point you get to when you are mourning a relationship where you want to carve said person out of your life, like in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (which is an excellent film, by the way) because everything about that person is just painful, even the sweet gifts and kind words that were exchanged. And you really just need to hate that person for a little while. So you pick up the box of stuff you collected over the course of the relationship, and you set out to burn it, but then you see a picture, or a note, or a teddy bear, and you remember, "Yeah, we had fun, too. We laughed. There was some real tenderness," and you realize that even though it hurts now, you want to remember that tenderness still. When you are a grandparent, you are still going to want that teddy bear that he won for you at the carnival on your first date. You are still going to want the ticket stub from the Broadway show you saw together because damn it, that was a good show and a wonderful night. You know that eventually, the pain will subside and you will be able to look back on the relationship with calm and a sweet sadness, instead of the bitterness you now feel. So you put the things back in the box and stuff the box back under your bed where you don't have to look at it for a long time. Not until you are at peace with the loss. That is what "Trite" is about. And I like it.

Is it wrong that the one person I really want to see every day, who makes me happier than anyone else, is a cat?

I don't know if you can understand the bond between a human and a pet unless you've ever had a pet, but its really something amazing. This creature of another species, who doesn't speak English or Spanish or Dutch, communicates with me. He trusts me. He knows I will feed him every day. He knows how to get me to play with him. There have been studies done that show that the touch of a familiar human can lower the blood pressure of an animal, relaxing him/her. Meaning I'm just as good for Owen as he is for me. I love it that he meets me at the door when I get home. I love it that he sleeps next to me at night. I love it that he stands on my pillow in the morning and waits for kisses before I carry him into the kitchen to get some breakfast. I love it that as of late, he gets antsy when I'm in the shower and he'll stick his head inbetween the shower curtain and the liner and meow at me like the world is about to end.

I know, I know, these cute, gushy entries are no fun. But I love my cat. Thank you to my friends who brought him into my life. We got off to a rough start, there, but I wouldn't trade him for the world.

So I put together this little benefit concert for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer and I am so excited about it, I think I'm going to vomit. And I'm so nervous about it, I think I'm going to vomit. Either way, something is going to come back out that shouldn't.

I got these two other amazing Chicago musicians to play with me, Phil Circle and Jeremy Babcock. I am so amazed at their enthusiasm and generosity! They are both really excited to be playing, and I love their music, and they are just really nice people. I can't believe all I had to do was ask and they agreed to participate. Thank you guys! I owe you big time.

And the people at the Heartland Cafe for letting me put together my own event, just giving me a date to work with. I did a play in their theater space a while ago, so I can vouch for the venue and say that it is really nice and has great food, much of which is vegetarian/vegan friendly. And the best hot chocolate in the WORLD. Though I don't know that people will want to be drinking hot chocolate in April, but take my word for it -- it is amazing.

And it seems like everything is in order. Now it is just up to my own little promotions department to get the word out there. Phil and Jeremy are helping with that, too, getting the word out to all of their fans. I hope people show up. I hope people have fun. I hope I don't vomit. I hope nothing explodes or implodes or completely falls apart, making me look like a completely incompetent ass. I know I'm excited for the show. I think it will be great. I guess if I just keep the positive attitude about the whole thing, and promote the hell out of it, well, that's the best I can do, right? Keep your fingers crossed for me just in case, though. Thanks.

Happy Valentine's Day, kids.

I'm in the middle of writing another semi-depressing love song. Started it last night. I'm not sure if I like it yet or not, but I think it has potential, so I'll keep plugging away at it. And hey, if it turns out sucking, only Owen and I ever have to know about it.

I'm also not quite sure what to make of the outcome of the Iraqi elections. I know it was a Shiite who won, but I don't know enough about the different groups to be able to say that's a good thing or a bad thing. I hope its a good thing.

I think that's about all I have for today. Yesterday was a "feelin' groovy" kind of a day and today just isn't. Probably because I had a Moby dream last night that was really fun and really not at the same time. He and I were just kind of hanging out and I was going to see his concert later that night, but somehow, I knew he wasn't going to be there -- they were just going to pipe in his music from elsewhere. And not knowing what his actual plans for the evening were, I knew he was probably thinking about that instead of enjoying hanging out with me and that made me feel really awkward. We had a good time in my dream -- we drank tea and watched some fish and talked and stuff (no, not that kind of stuff, you sickos) -- but I knew he wanted to be elsewhere. Never a fun situation. But then again, not really one I have to deal with because it was just a dream.

I'm going to shut up and drink my tea now. The rest of you: go tell your friends and family that you love them. Its a good day for that. To my friends and family, I love you very much.

Why are there no average or ugly women in movies or on TV? You'll see a TV couple consisting of a very average, sometimes downright unattractive man with a really hot wife. Does that really happen? And what about the really average looking women in the world with really hot husbands? Why don't we see those relationships on the screen? Just wondering. You know, since the pressure on women to look a certain way in our society is as great as it is. I think it might help if we saw more average looking women in movies, in lead roles -- not just as the fat friend, you know? Because whenever they need an unattractive woman in a movie, they take a knock-out and put her in make up. Like in "Monster" or "Being John Malcovich." Why not just cast someone unattractive to begin with? Like when they want someone with a certain accent, so they cast a person from said place, rather than hire a dialect coach.

I'm just wondering. And now I'm going to drink my sleepy time tea. Good night.

I like my stupid life just the way it is, and I wouldn't even trade it for a flock of screaming pigs.

Thanks, Mr. Elfman.

My mom gave me this tape that I have yet to listen to that talks about a woman's cycle in more metaphysical terms than maybe we're used to. Some women apparently have greater insights at different times of the month and whatnot. Which, I guess would make sense, as we also get moody and irritable and depressed at other times during the month. Its only fair if it balances out. But even though I haven't listened to the tape, I'm trying to pay attention to my moods throughout the month, to see if I have any greater insights or anything. I haven't really noticed any formal patterns or anything as of yet, but I have noticed that for every day I spend getting miserable and down on myself, I have another day wherein I love my life. And today is an "I love my life" day. I don't even know why. I woke up feeling like crap; I've hardly left my house, but I just feel mentally good. I like my house. I like my neighborhood. I like my friends. I like the fact that I went to two parties this weekend whereat I knew almost noone and I still had a blast. I like it that my inappropriate crush seems to be fading, thanks to my friends. I like it that I can get away with having no hair. I like that I have a theater to belong to, and a local bar where they know my name. I like it that my money woes are evaporating. I like it that I figured out a cover of "Porcelain" that is really pretty (I think). I like it that Moby has a new album coming out. I like drinking tea. I should make a note of this day so I remember that I do have them, and so I can figure out when to expect them during the month.

I'm just kind of off today. Have you ever had one of those days when you were positive that you are not of this world? You're just not supposed to be here right now. Maybe tomorrow, this will again be your place, but for right now, it's just not right. Your head doesn't feel like its attached to your body, but even if it was, it certainly doesn't contain your brain at this point in time. You'd really just be better off sitting outside counting air molecules or something. I'm kind of having one of those days. Its a little difficult to concentrate on the ONE THING that I have to do in my office. If I had thirty-seven things to do, I might be able to get myself to do one of them, but this one thing is just not happening for me today. Or it is, but it is happening very slowly. Kind of like my decision on whether or not I'm hungry and feel like eating today. Like I said, today, I'm just off.

But I keep watching/listening to Moby's "Lift Me Up" video. Like I said, it's not an amazing video or anything, but I am very much enjoying the song. I picture myself in a dark club dancing like the guy in orange to this song. I can't wait for him to go on tour so I can see him play it live and dance with other people who love the song, too. And I'm also very much aware, once again, of exactly how much like Wallace (from Wallace and Gromit) Moby looks. That was grammatically odd. Sorry. Moby looks like Wallace. Very much. And I still maintain that Moby is one of the cutest men I have ever met. I now say "one of" because one of the men in the play I'm currently in is also almost sickeningly cute. Very sweet, very kind, just adorable. Doesn't shave his head, though. There are only three of us in the play who do. But yeah, in a really strange way, it seems funny to me that a song called "Lift Me Up" is making me feel kind of grounded and connected to the rest of the world. Thanks, Moby.

They're moving another one of my co-workers and shang-hai-ing her office. Someone new is moving into her office on Monday. She found out about this about an hour ago. There was no plan made for where to put her. We're not terribly surprised, just fantastically annoyed. I really need to find another job. It occurred to me that I could look for jobs elsewhere, and that if I do, my chances of 1) finding something I want to do and 2) finding something closer to the industry I want to be involved in would be much improved. I do love Chicago, though. Especially at this time of year when I get to watch the sunrise over the Chicago skyline. It really is beautiful. New York and LA can't compete in the skyline department, but they could probably afford me more job opportunities. I don't want to move to LA. New York, maybe. I'd be able to eat at Teany whenever I wanted to...but I'd probably have to get a roommate because New York is expensive. Maybe I should apply for a few jobs out there and see what happens before I start rearranging the rest of my life.

And in sets the ick. I can feel it behind my eyes. They feel like they are trying to make a grand escape from my head, but they just need a little more cash so they know they'll be able to survive on the outside. So they're fighting with my sinus passages, trying to squeeze out just a few more bucks, but the sinus passages are resilliant little fuckers and they're not giving anything up without a boatload of mucus attached to it.

What a terrible time to get sick. Oh well. It's gotta happen sometime. At least I kind of have a weekend this weekend. Not really tomorrow, but maybe Sunday I can rest. That's what Sundays are for, right? Resting?

I'm going to be distastefully giddy for a minute. I finally got the video for Moby's new song "Lift Me Up" to play and I have to say I love it. It's not a fantastically superb video or anything, but I really really really like the song. I'm so geeked for his new album to come out! And, of course, there are worse ways to spend three minutes than looking at Moby and watching him perform. And the fun part is, my hair is the same length as his today. One of my cast mates shaved it for me last night. It's not exactly all even, but he did it with no guard on his clippers, so my hair is kind of sandpapery. And apparently, I'm still sexy. My theater friend said I'm "actually" bald now, as opposed to just having really short hair, and he says it looks good. I'm kind of enjoying being a bald woman. But I'll be happy when I have hair again.

Sorry. I kind of got off the subject there for a minute. Yay Moby's new record! If you can check out this song, I would highly recommend it. It's a great dancing-in-a-club-late-at-night-when-its-smoky-and-there-are-lots-of-lights-flashing-and-you're-sweaty-but-so-is-everyone-else-so-who-cares kind of a song.

So in case you were wondering, it sounds like my cousin and her girlfriend are doing fine. Yay! They are so amazing to me.

And after you take a break today, if I could call on you one more time for happy vibes. I know this guy, a man I used to dance with, who has a brain tumor. Prognosis is not good. Kind of a no-win situation and it breaks my heart. He has a beautiful wife, a two year old daughter, and another child on the way. Who he may not live long enough to ever meet. He is going in for surgery tomorrow, which may prolong his life a bit, or it may turn him into a vegetable. His whole family and support group of friends is very positive and they are all determined to beat this. Their faith is staggering. I kind of feel like a crappy friend because I've not really been there for them. At all. But if I could put out there one more request for help, it would be to send good energy to him tomorrow morning as they work to get rid of the mass in his brain. He is such an incredible, loving, giving man. My thoughts are with you, and will be with you tomorrow.

If I could send out a call for good energy/prayers/happy thoughts today, my cousin is donating one of her kidneys to her girlfriend who has been battling lupis for years. Please send them good energy so that everything goes well. I can't imagine the fear and/or nervousness on both parts, and I am humbled by the display of love and generosity shown by my cousin, in surrendering one of her organs so that her girlfriend can live a happy, healthy life. They are both amazing, wonderful women and I hope all goes well today. I'd like them both to be around for a while.

I love you guys!

Couple of random things:

I've been listening to Oingo Boingo again lately. It's been a long time since I listened to them and I've really been enjoying it. This is good music. Instrumentally challenging. Lyrically interesting. Rhythmically fascinating. So yeah, if you don't know Boingo, go pick up a disc and give it a listen. It's really good stuff.

Today is Fat Tuesday. Yay Fat Tuesday. I guess that means I have to come up with something to give up for Lent, which starts tomorrow, right? Even though I'm not Catholic (or even technically Christian anymore), it's kind of fun to give something up for Lent. Maybe I'll give up my totally inappropriate crush. Which means it is okay to indulge in it today. Which is a good thing because I kind of think I have another one now, in that "Hey, you're really talented and funny and sweet and kind of cute" kind of a way. So for today, I will think about my inappropriate crushes and tomorrow, I will give them up.

And now I think I'll go see if I can find any Boingo guitar tabs. It'd be fun to cover one of their songs in my set. It'd be fun to be in a Boingo cover band. Okay, I'm stopping now.

Warning: I am going to be really distasteful and boastful and infantile.

I won the open mic at Uncommon Ground!

Maybe it is just me, but the open mic at Uncommon Ground is one of the more reknown ones in Chicago. It kind of irks me that it is a competition, but I guess it keeps things interesting. And, it is a way for them to "audition" bands without having to book them or pay them. But the open mic there is the first open mic I went to, and the first night I went, I made it to the final three. I have not been a finalist since then. My theater friend thinks I was one time when he was there, but I don't remember that. So tonight, I sang "Ordinary." I've sung it better, but it wasn't terrible. And I made it to the final three. And then I won. The other guys in the final three were "bands" -- each act consisting of two guys and they had harmonies and multiple instruments. And I know the guy running the thing said that it was completely arbitrary who made it to the final three because everyone was really good tonight, and they were. I would not have put me in the final three. But there I was. And I had enough of a cheering section to win the night. Which means I get to go back in July for their open mic showcase thingy, and I won $22, and I am on their radar -- they know who I am now. Kind of.

So thank you to the guy running the open mic for arbitrarily picking me. Thank you to everyone in the audience for cheering for me. Thank you to my friends (old and new) who were there to support and cheer for me. I love you guys and it means the world to me that you were there and stuck around long enough to see me play. Thank you.

But for the record, I still think it is ridiculous that it is a contest.

I dunno. I felt like a real musician again tonight. I haven't felt that in a long time. I could actually do this. I don't just have to stick to the little rinky-dink venues that let anyone play. My music appeals to people. I have a nice voice. I am a musician. Man, does that feel good to say that.

And now I'm done. I apologize for the distasteful happy boasting post. But I'm distasteful and happy and boasting right now. I'll stop.

So at least it is raining and not snowing. That makes me happy.

The world is kind of gray and dreary right now. Makes you restless. Makes you itch for a little push in one direction or the other. Either get really gray and dreary so we can all stay home and drink hot chocolate, or get a little warmer so the trees and flowers will bloom and we can open our windows and go play outside.

Do you remember when you were little, you would ask your friends if they wanted to play? And then you hit a certain age and "play" became synonomous with "having sex" and suddenly, even though you weren't totally aware of what sex entailed, you would ask your friends to "get together" or "hang out" because asking them to "play" was taboo?

I want to go play. As in go splash in puddles or play tag or roll down a grassy hill. But I think it needs to be a little warmer and less wet for most of that. Except for the puddles bit. I just need to be wearing crappier pants for the puddles bit.

So I don't think it's a big secret anymore (except from the people in my office), but I'm looking for a new job. The environment here has just gotten really toxic. I was always willing to put up with my stupid, boring "in the meantime" job because the people were great and the benefits were great and so on and so forth. But the environment has changed significantly and it is miserable coming in here every day -- moreso than it has ever been before. So I'm looking for something different.

I have my paralegal certificate, but I don't want to be a paralegal.

I've been an administrative assistant for the past five years and I'm damn good at it, but I don't really want to do that anymore, either. Unless it is at a talent agency or something like that -- something that gets me a little closer to my industry of choice.

I keep hearing about friends of mine getting these really cool jobs, like at radio stations or casting agencies or what have you and I don't even really know where to start looking for stuff like that. I want to be in a creative environment. I want a job that will challenge me. I want a job that will not make me physically sick every morning I have to go in there. Most of the listings on the three major online job hunting resources are pretty bland. I have my resume posted on one of them anyway, and I've applied to a couple of jobs from the others, but the pickings are pretty slim, as they say. I'm not in a hurry to leave here and I'm not going to leave unless I find something better. But I'm looking for something better. Actively. And if any of you know of anything that I might be good at, please let me know. I learn fast. I know there is no job out there at which I could not excel; it's just a matter of getting through the interview process, you know? And just because this will be another "in the meantime" job does not mean 1) it has to be something I will hate or 2) that I will not stick around for a while. Hell, my last "in the meantime" job has lasted almost five years...

So yeah, any help y'all might have to offer would be greatly appreciated. Even in other cities. If the job is right, I could be willing to relocate for it.

Thanks! And wish me luck!

I like this article. And hey, it was written by a Republican.

I love watching the behavior of two people who have crushes on one another, but have yet to reveal their feelings. The furtive sideways glances, cut short by direct eye contact. Searching for excuses to touch one another in acceptable ways. Adding physicality to anecdotes, so as to move closer to one another. The proverbial pulling of the pigtails. It is so predictable and so obvious, this mating dance we humans perform. And infuriating when I find myself participating.

Why am I so hard on myself for my attractions to other people? Well, first off, I'm always attracted to the unattainable. That's what is attractive about said person because if said person was attainable, that might mean that he/she could conceivably get to know me and fall in love with me and either he/she would tire of me or I would tire of him/her and we'd both just end up hurt. Yes, I have issues with letting people love me. We all know this. We also all know that it is something I am working on, so we don't need to dwell on that. We're looking at the issue at hand, which is me getting annoyed with my own human reactions to other humans.

Secondly, these persons are unattainable. Meaning nothing will happen except I will end up disappointed and hurt. Why do I allow myself to become emotionally invested in people who I know will only hurt me, whether or not it is intentional?

I watched a taped episode of "House" last night. If you're not hooked on that show yet, might I suggest checking it out. It's really lovely. But in this particular episode, a really amazing trumpet player is paralyzed and then gets pneumonia and he signs a Do Not Resusitate order because he doesn't want to live if he can't play anymore. There is this one scene wherein House is trying to convince the trumpet player to let him figure out what is causing the paralysis and the trumpet player calls House on his obsession of curing diseases. He points out that there are some people who have just one thing -- House has medicine, he has music -- that is so all-consuming that they don't have time for "normal" lives -- spouses, the house in the 'burbs, friends, etc. It got me thinking, "Am I one of those people? Is art my obsession?" I have passed up dating opportunities so I could do a show. I have passed up family functions for shows. I put my creativity above all else in my list of priorities, sometimes sacrificing financial security or my health or my physical appearance for the sake of my art. Is that why I'm so opposed to the possibility of dating? It would get in the way of my creativity? It steals too much focus? Or I subconsciously know that that is not the life for me, that my life is to be spent doing things other than sharing a bowl of popcorn with a loved one on a cold winter's day? And how depressing is that thought?

I would like to find someone with whom I can share my life, and who will share his life with me. It's the "getting there" part that is driving me crazy. And hey, I'm a bald chick -- men aren't supposed to find bald chicks attractive anyway, right?

Tee hee.

It's that time of year when I get to watch the sun rise and the sun set every day. I hate that I have to be awake that early, but I am so excited that I get to watch each new day be born. This morning, the sun looked like it does in every documentary I have ever seen about Africa. You know what I'm talking about -- the giant, fiery orange ball, floating in and out from behind the clouds, turning the sky colors that don't even exist in the 96 crayon box. It was breathtaking. And I feel so lucky that I get to see that.

Now if only that beauty didn't have to begin a day of sitting here, at my desk, in this office. I gotta find a different job.

Okay, I have determined that the real function of sleep is not to rest your body, but to rehydrate your eyes. Think about it -- you're walking around all day, looking at stuff, blinking a lot, probably not crying. Your eyes get dry. So at the end of the day, when your eyes just can't keep up with the gale-force winds created by your two-mile-per-hour gait, you go to sleep. Your eyes tell you when it is time for them to close. And if you don't get enough sleep, how can you tell? Your eyes are red and tired and they hurt. Because they didn't get enough time to produce enough tears to get you through the day. And if you go back to sleep for a little while, all is then right with your eyes. Or if you have yourself a good cry.

Sleep. It's not just about dreaming anymore.

You know, it just doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem like it really happened that Shrub was re-elected. Or, elected. Or, that he is in office still. It doesn't seem real. I don't understand how so many people could have voted for him, and how so few could stand up and say, "These poll results are obviously flawed. Something's wrong here." It just doesn't feel like he's still in office. Maybe because I've been trying to once again, not pay attention to politics. It's disheartening to feel so passionately about something and then have it go exactly the way you didn't want it to. I needed some distance. This morning, I went to read a transcript of last night's State of the Union Address and I couldn't do it. I found a transcript -- that wasn't the problem. I got about five paragraphs into it and had to stop. I don't have the energy to hate him for his lies today. I don't have the energy to scoff. Largely because I was out very late last night because it was opening night and the show went really well and the audience loved us so of course I had to go do karoke with the cast afterwards and I was getting positive attention from a guy I have a completely inappropriate crush on (hey, I made it a month without one of those. That's not too bad for me. And I'll quash this one, soon. Don't worry) and my romantic interest in the play gave me sunflowers which had me thinking about Harold and Maude half of the night and I don't know if anyone has ever given you sunflowers before, but they really brighten your day, but I didn't get home until after two o'clock and I didn't sleep fantastically well so I'm very tired though kind of proud of this run on sentence but what it all boils down to is that I don't have the energy to deal with our Commander in Chief right now. Were he to walk up to me on the street, I'd probably just walk away and leave it at that. I'm sorry. I'll get passionate about my beloved country again soon. I'm just tired today.

I got notes! Yay! New stuff to play with tonight on opening night! Yay!

I'm excited for this show to open. I'm frustrated with my job. I'm tired of the cold weather. Something needs to change soon. Except for this show. I want people to come see it and love it as much as I do. This is a good one.

So I guess I should take it as a good thing that my director(s) have nothing but good notes for me. And at the same time, it connects me to my character that much more because she has forever been on a quest to find someone to push her, to challenge her, to make her think outside of herself. It is kind of a disappointment to not find that person. It is kind of wonderful to know that I can keep up with persons who I admire and respect. And it is wonderful to know that I am putting on a great show. I am good at what I do. I am ready for more people to know that.