So I started my tour of the Chicago City Park System today, right down the street from my house. I figured why not? It is absolutely gorgeous outside and there is no reason why I can't play outside in Chicago, too. So I went. It was fun. The people were supremely indifferent to my presence, but I had a good time anyway. I think it's good for me to play in public places like that. Helps me get over the playing in front of people thing. Gets me used to the absolute knowledge than people can hear me play. And nobody threw tomatoes at me, so I'm assuming I wasn't too horrible. And yes, there were a couple of picnics happening, so tomatoes were a very real possibility.

I consider it a good day when I get to use the word "moot" in regular conversation.

And one more random tidbit because it is painfully quiet here at work today and I need to keep my mind occupied somehow as I sit here at the front desk, for those of you in Chicago, WXRT's featured Friday artist today is David Bowie. So if you're sitting in your office and can turn on a radio, might I recommend WXRT. You're guaranteed to get some good tunes today.

So apparently, I am the kind of person who inspires people. It’s not something I would ever admit to, even if it was something I was readily aware of, but I guess in retrospect, it kind of makes sense. I remember a guy in college who dreamed of making movies, but declared business (or some such thing) as his major because it was safe and he would be able to make money at it. He eventually switched his major to film to pursue what he had always wanted to do and he told me on several occasions that he did it because of me. He saw the blind faith I had in myself to pursue theater even though I had no real background in theater (i.e. I wasn’t in any plays in high school) and was therefore inspired to a similar faith in himself. I always thought that was a really incredible compliment. And I have a couple of friends now who say they want to learn things or do things because they are things that I know or do and that look like so much fun. I don’t know how much follow through will happen on those things, but it is a really amazing feeling to have someone say to your face, “You have inspired me to do this.” I don’t know if anyone has ever said that to you or not, so you may just have to trust me. It is incredible.

So then one of my friends who has recently been inspired by me asked me in a kind of roundabout way who I am inspired by. I’ve been thinking about that for a couple of days and I think I have come to the conclusion that everybody, but not very many people inspire me. I know. That doesn’t make any sense. Yes it does. If you live in my head. Which fortunately for me, I do. Lemme ‘splain. No, there is too much. Lemme sum up. Buttercup is marry Humperdink in little less a half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the princess, and make our 'scape. After I kill Count Rugen. Sorry. I love that part. Anyway.

I am inspired by everyone who I meet in one way or another. The way they hold their coffee cup, the way they walk, the way they view life and the world around them, all of these things are fascinating to me. They make me reexamine the way I walk and the way I hold a coffee cup and the way I view life and the world around me. I am fascinated by the minutiae of human existence. I think it is all worth experiencing and knowing. Yes, it makes me sound like a crackpot sometimes because I notice things like my senior year chemistry teacher has the same hands as my mom or my one friend smokes like John Travolta or this one woman who dances in Chicago keeps her heart aimed above her partner’s head and I am assuming she must be difficult to lead because of that. I don’t know if other people notice these things, but I do and I’m glad that I do. They give me the ability to look at things from a million different perspectives and formulate educated opinions. I think.

But when it comes to people who make me want to learn a new skill or push myself beyond the limits of what I thought I could be, there are only a handful of those and as much as I’ve been trying to think of who they are, I can only come up with one who I know personally. Maybe two, but in my mind there is a difference between the two. One is a kind of learning partner; the other could almost be qualified as a muse. The others are artists of one sort or another of whom I only have peripheral or third party knowledge. Is that sad? Is that bad? Should I be inspired in that way by more people who I know personally, because I know a lot of really wonderful, incredible people? Will all of the people I know now be offended when they read this? Should I be actively seeking out more sources of inspiration? And probably the saddest of all the thoughts circulating through my head right now, is it worth pursuing relationships with people who don’t inspire me in this way? I think that is the only question I have an answer to right now – yes, it is worth it. There is always something to be learned from interpersonal relationships. But the rest of it…when I get stimulated, it’s almost frightening the stuff that comes out. Maybe it’s better for the sake of the rest of the world that my creative capacities are somewhat stunted.

Sweet jebus, I think I just saw my own head grow three sizes. I think I’m going to go read some comics now to kill off a few brain cells and feel normal again.

And thank you to those of you who have been inspired by me. I can’t think of a better compliment. I only hope that I can continue to live up to your expectations of me and I will do my best to do so.

Maybe the knowledge that I have that effect on people is what inspires me. Huh. Something to explore.

I'm going to be in a parade, too.

So I’m going to go to Europe. For real. I won this award at work that comes with a cash prize, so I’m feeling kind of rich right now and seeing as flying to Europe right now is dirt cheap, I’m going to go. I haven’t been in ten years, so I’m going to go. I’m going to see places I haven’t seen before. I’m going to stay with my dancer friend (who at least used to be) from Switzerland for a few days (but now he lives in Germany. That’s cool. I’d like to see Germany). I’m going to dance in England for a few days. I’m thinking about day/overnight trips to Paris and/or Dublin. My mind is awhirl with possibilities and I’m so excited about it, I can hardly see straight. It has been a long time since I have taken an extended vacation. It has been a long time since I have been able to monetarily splurge on something like this. And you know what? I deserve it. I have worked hard. No, I am not out of debt yet, but I am in good with my creditors and the end is in sight. I haven’t purchased anything besides necessities in a very very very long time and it is going to feel good to treat myself to some wonderful experiences.

Of course, I’ll come home wanting to move to Europe, but hey, some sacrifices have to be made. And yes, I will take my laptop with me so I can keep in touch with all of you while I am there. ‘Cuz I know I’m going to want to blog while I’m there. The trick will be balancing blog time with living time.

So then last night is kind of overkill. Verging on distasteful. Twelve to three? I mean, come one. Yes, it was fun to see the Cubbies come back and whoop the Marlins’ asses, but save some of the good stuff for later games when you’re really going to need it, huh, guys? I am glad they won, though. I feel much better than I did yesterday. And that one catch by I think it was Alou that turned into a double play – that’s the kind of thing that I like to see.

So here’s another thing that makes the Cubbies cooler than any other team. Most sports team names end with an “s.” I think there are only five or six professional sports teams that don’t have names ending in “s.” So whenever you write a sports team name, you have to do the apostrophe after the “s” to make it a possessive. Marlins’. Braves’. Astros’. And while grammatically this is all well and good, not everybody out there knows this rule of creating the possessive form of words that end in “s” and you get a lot of, “The Cubs kicked the Marlin’s asses.” Which irritates me to no end. Almost as much as people who “try and do” things. “I’m going to try and make it there, but if I don’t, please try and get me the handouts so I can try and keep up with the homework.” It’s “try to", goddamn it! “I’m going to try to make it there, but if I don’t, please try to get me the handouts so I can try to keep up with the homework.” Saying “try and” is repetitive. You can eliminate it from the sentence and it still makes perfect sense. “I’m going to make it there, but if I don’t please get me the handouts so I can keep up with the homework.” Granted, either form can be removed from the sentence, but to “try and do” something means you will do it. To “try to do” something means you will try. “And” and “to” are not synonyms. But I digress. With the Cubs, you can very easily differentiate between the plural and the possessive by switching to the familiar – Cubbies. Or maybe I’m just smoking crack. What? I’m happy that the Cubs are doing well. And it’s early. And I’m tired. And I really just wanted to bitch about the “and” vs. “to” thing for a little while. Lemme lone.

I think I’m going to be one of those people like Bono who always wears sunglasses. Daytime, nighttime, inside, outside, I’m always going to wear sunglasses. Why? Because these frigging contact lenses I have dry out my eyes something fierce and make it almost painful to be anywhere where air moves around my eyes. So I would not be wearing the sunglasses to be cool, I would be wearing them to act as a windshield. With fewer bug splatters.

You know, I respect the fact that everyone in our country (supposedly) has the right to his or her own opinion and has the ability to voice said opinion. I respect the fact that we get to elect our officials into office (the most recent Presidential election excepted). I do not respect anyone who voted for the Terminator in the California governor's race. Sure, I like him as an actor and I will continue to enjoy his action flicks for the rest of my life. Governing the state of California is nothing like making an action movie. Two completely different skill sets. And I'm sorry, but he's never even played a public official.

I guess the only comfort that can be taken in this whole situation is that they voted for him so now they have to live with their own decision. And when they start whining and complaining about the crap hole California has become, well, then the rest of us can just sit back with our popcorn and enjoy the show. I'm guessing it's going to be even more fantastical than Total Recall.

For a while there, I was feeling all groovy and urban about the fact that I now take the train to work two days a week. I’m saving gas, I’m saving money, I’m saving the environment, I’m losing twenty minutes of sleep and two hours of commute time every time I take the train.

I know, I should be proud of the fact that I am taking advantage of the wonderful public transportation system we have here in Chicago. But when it means I have to get up a half an hour earlier than usual (which turns into twenty minutes and I usually miss the train I really should be on and have to catch the next one) to stand on an el platform on a chilly October morning when it is supposed to get up into the mid-eighties by the middle of the day so I’m wearing a skirt with no pantyhose and debated with myself all morning about whether or not I should bring a jacket and I didn’t but as I’m standing there on the platform, I start to doubt that I made the wisest choice in the matter, I start to bargain with myself about whether or not I can spare the eight dollars to park downtown at school, environment be damned. Of course, I always opt for keeping my eight dollars, but the debate exists. Good thing this whole “school” thing is only for a year.

To be a Cubs fan is to relegate oneself to a life of disappointments. Every year, they get our hopes up and every year, they let us down. But we still love them more than we love our own mothers. Why is that? What is it about the Cubs that attracts the most loyal of fans? Do we love them because we are losers or are we losers because we love them?

It really is a bizarre phenomenon. Wrigley Field is always packed, no matter how badly the Cubs are doing. And even if we are second to last in the pennant race, we still have hope that we'll get there this year. What makes Chicago northsiders so optimistic?

We lost tonight in eleven innings. It was a nailbiter of a game. Literally. I don't bite my nails, but I was chewing on them from the top of the eighth until I got in my car to go home. And yes, I almost cried. Why? This is only the first game of a seven game series. We could still win it. Prior is pitching tomorrow, and Wood the day after. It could happen. But I was devastated tonight. It's stupid. It is dumb to get so worked up over a baseball game, but I do. I've been a Cubs fan since before I could walk and I have been waiting for them to get to the World Series that whole time. I don't know which is worse -- to have a season well under 500 or to get to the playoffs and not the World Series. This is pretty heartbreaking.

I know its dumb. There are so many more important things going on in the world than baseball. But for right now, my team, my Cubbies, the boys I grew up with and who I have loved dearly my entire life are doing well. I want them to continue to do well. We, as Cub fans, need to win the 100th World Series to prove that we aren't completely hopeless. We'll happily go another 100 years without making it to the post season if we could just have this one. For us, it is a once in a lifetime opportunity. And for us, it means a lifetime of disappointments. Why do we do this to ourselves? Because Wrigley has ivy.

Okay, so fake meat products.

I know a lot of people who have problems with fake meat products and they cite this as a reason why vegetarians and vegans are crazy. “If you want something that looks and tastes like meat, eat meat,” they say. And to a certain extent, I agree with them. If you want to eat chicken nuggets, eat chicken nuggets. Chik’n is kind of strange and takes a while to get used to. Anyway.

I went to this one wonderful vegetarian Chinese restaurant in New York that served things like General Tso’s chicken, but it’s not chicken, it’s a soy substitute. That kind of thing. I tried of piece of this fake chicken and it was almost identical to the piece of fake calamari I tried a few minutes before. In this particular case, the substitute for calamari was a better substitute, I think, because calamari is supposed to be kind of smooth and rubbery. Chicken is not. But I digress.

With a few notable exceptions, fake meat products are weird. I love Gimmie Lean. I like Yves fake turkey slices. And in some cases, TVP in sloppy joes or chili is really yummy, but TVP isn’t really trying to be meat. But a lot of other fake meat products are just strange. The texture is off. Which got me thinking. Here was an entire restaurant making a business out of selling fake meat products to people. Almost every vegetarian or vegan restaurant I have been to sells fake meat products to people. Perhaps in an attempt to make omnivores feel comfortable there? Or to give their patrons the ability to say to their omnivorous friends, “Yeah, well, I had a burger for dinner tonight, too, with coleslaw and mashed potatoes?” I kind of want to say, you know what? You’re vegetarian. Celebrate the fact that you are vegetarian by not eating fake meat products. Make for yourself nutritionally balanced meals that don’t involve fake meat products. Or better yet, open a vegetarian restaurant that serves nutritionally sound meals that do not involve fake meat products, to show people how much variety and how much fun stuff vegetarians and vegans can eat without having to resort to pretending to be omnivorous. Isn’t that kind of the point of being vegetarian in the first place? Getting your nutrients from sources other than animal sources? So why do we like to pretend we’re eating animals? Why not do interesting things with grains, legumes, fruits, and vegetables that don’t involve pressing them into patties and adding artificial smoke flavor so you think you’re eating a grilled hamburger?

I know, I know, for a long time people though that all vegans and vegetarians ate was red beans, rice, and salad. I’m not advocating that we only eat red beans, rice, and salad. Because, as we all know, you don't win friends with salad. But for instance, my brother gave me a Mediterranean vegan cookbook for Christmas last year that has a million dishes in it that are completely vegan and don’t require fake meat products. Really yummy things, nutritionally balanced. If we look to ethnic foods, we will find a lot more vegetarian and vegan options that already exist there without having to put forth the extra effort. Why not explore that more?

I don’t know that I really have a point here except to say that I understand people who make fun of veggies eating fake meat products. I’d like to see more non-fake meat product options in veggie restaurants.

This rant brought to you by the letter E, the number 7, and the fact that I made some really yummy risotto last night.

So I may have to be a pescatarian for a week. But I'll only eat Marlins.

The train was eerily empty this morning. I’m not sure if it is because of Yom Kippur or if it is because too many people were out partying last night celebrating the greatest thing to happen to Cubs fans in ninety-five years (in case you live in a cave, the Cubs beat the Braves last night and took the series, three games to two, marking the first time since 1908 that the Cubs have won a post-season series), but there was nobody on the train. I kept having to ask myself, “Is it really Monday today, or could I have stayed in bed a few more hours to sleep off that third beer?” But sadly, it is Monday. I’m not a big fan of Mondays. I used to kind of like Mondays because some really great dancing happens on Mondays in Chicago, but now I really don’t like them. Why? Because I have class on Monday nights which cuts into my dancing time. Granted, class is over before dancing actually begins, but what with travel time and so on and so forth, on Mondays I leave my house before 7:00 in the morning and don’t get home until after 10:00 at night. That makes for a long day and I am usually tired by the time I get home and I have problems motivating myself to go out and dance. Which sucks because I miss dancing. But on days like today when I only got about three hours of sleep the night before (though I wouldn’t have traded going out last night for the world. It was really incredible to be a part of the mob in the intersection of Clark and Addison and then to go into the bars in Wrigleyville and sing “Go, Cubs, Go” a million times and drink with other Cubs fans and whatnot. Some random guy bought shots for half the bar, just to celebrate the win (yes, I was a benefactor of his generosity). And everybody was smiling at everybody else. Everyone was everyone else’s friend in Wrigleyville last night. It was really amazing), it’s a little bit hard to wake up and face a long, slow day at work (because it is Yom Kippur so a lot of people are not on campus today) in a nice, warm office and then a long slow night in class and then think about going out dancing afterwards. Call me a wus. Maybe I’m just getting old. But I’ll still poke you in the eye if you tell me I have a case of the Mondays.

I think I have officially run out of interesting things to say, so I'll just give you a random smattering of thoughts for today.

It is really nice to see the Cubs in the playoffs. I wish that Harry Carey was still around to see it, though. And whether or not they win today, they made it to the playoffs and they have played a season of really good baseball this year. They should be proud of that.

I like being a hippie. But I still don't feel like cooking.

I want to be a rockstar.

I love seeing old friends and knowing that they are doing well. I don't like seeing old friends and knowing that they are not doing well. It makes me sad to know that there are some destructive patterns that people fall into that they can't or choose not to get out of.

I hope I will get to talk to him again. I disagree with my one friend who says he still likes me, but I hope that I will get to see him and talk to him again. He's a good person.

I'm tired of wearing contacts that dry my eyes out so badly.

If you eat a superior salsa on an inferior chip, does it lessen the worth of the salsa? If you eat an inferior salsa on a superior chip, does it lessen the worth of the chip?

I think pickles need to take a more active role in the daily lives of American citizens. Citizens of the world, as a matter of fact.

I hope Arnold Schwartzenegger is not elected governor of California. I can't really support that emotion, I just have a gut feeling that he is not the best man for the job. I'd rather see him make more action movies than run a state.

Weekends when I have class aren't really weekends and they always make me want to call in sick on Monday so I get my two days off like the rest of the world does. I could use two days off. Maybe if I had two days off in a row, I would feel like cooking.

Thank you. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

I had dinner with my mom last night and as we were talking, I remembered a kind of interesting moment I had when I was in New York.

First of all, I know I’ve said it before, but I think it merits repetition – I love my mom. I am thankful every day for the relationship I have with her. She is one of the most wonderful people I know. It was really lovely to just sit with her for a few hours and talk and drink cherry wine and eat fried rice. Not many people that I know get to do things like that with their moms, so I feel really lucky that I do.

But we got talking about body image and eating issues and whatnot – she did the Atkins diet thing for a while and of course, I’m a vegan. For a while there, we couldn’t eat out together. But it reminded me that while I was in New York was the first time in a long time that I have felt really heavy. Maybe because I was staying with a tall, slender hostess, but I felt heavier than I have in a long time. So many of my eating issues and body image issues have simply left me in the past year. I eat when I’m hungry and I eat until I’m full. I don’t waste hours upon hours counting calories anymore. I don’t obsess about a pound or two. I’ve actually gotten to a point where I can look at myself in the mirror as I am getting dressed in the morning and think that I have a really nice shape. I look like a woman is supposed to. I have breasts. I have hips. I am not now, nor will I ever be a size two and that is okay with me. I have gotten to the point where I like the way I look. I’m not going to just let myself go now – I’m still going to work out and eat right and stuff, but because it makes me feel good, not because I think I need to lose weight.

But the strangeness in New York happened when two of my friends (on separate occasions) made comments about what they had already eaten that day and how much they were “allowed” to eat later because of it. Like they were counting calories or fat grams or protein/carbohydrate grams or something. And it struck me that that is not a part of my life anymore. I wasted years counting calories and it never did me any good. I wasted a lot of paper writing down everything that I ate and all it did was make me miserable and give me something else to hate myself for. And I’m done with it now.

No, I am not a scrawny vegan. I don’t know that I ever will be. But I have been released from the obsessive/compulsive battle with my weight that so many women (and men, too, for that matter) are still fighting. I feel for them because I have been there and I know how all consuming it can be. I’m just tired of it. I want to wear pants that are comfortable and if that means they have a bigger number on the tag, then so be it. I would rather be comfortable in my clothes (and therefore comfortable being myself) than spend twenty minutes trying to zip up my jeans in the morning and the entire day sucking in my stomach. It’s just not worth it.

So my question is why is Novocain not an illegal narcotic? My jaw was pumped full of the stuff about two and a half hours ago and I still can't feel half of my face. Granted, she gave me a lot of it because I had three cavities filled (check out my shiny, silvery mouth!), but seriously. I can't feel half of my face. From my cheekbone to my neckline, nose to ear. It's kind of cool in a way. I have to make a conscious effort to not bite my own tongue, though. And I'm kind of getting to that "okay, that's enough of that, thank you" stage of drug usage. But I can see a bunch of young kids shooting themselves in various body parts with Novocain just to see what it's like and then doing crazy things like, I don't know, branding each other and stuff. "Did that hurt?" "No, man, I couldn't feel a thing. They had to rush me to the hospital once we started to smell burning flesh, but it didn't hurt a bit. And then at the hospital, they gave me morphine. Score."

Anyway, I like my dentist, pusher of should-be-illegal drugs or no. She's cool and she does good work. I look forward to going back to see her again in six months.

I can hardly think of a lovlier sound to wake up to than the sound of one's radiators turning on. And despite my penchant for sarcasm, I am not being sarcastic in this case. I literally smiled and said, "Hi, radiators," this morning when I heard them turn on. Because for once, this means I won't have to hastle my landlords to turn on the heat. For once, I will be cozy in my little apartment when it's all nippy outside and stuff. Yay radiators.

And I have all of this food in my house to make things with (soup, risotto, etc.) and I have absolutely no desire to cook today. Drat it all.

I had one of those moments last night where I found myself thinking, "If I was a rock star, this would be my life." I didn't go to work yesterday and I didn't go today. I'm still kind of recovering. Mentally. So yesterday was a day of shopping and practicing my guitar (new song is called "Astoria Park" and it went over pretty well. It's short, but it's really fun and it makes people laugh) and just kind of taking it easy. And then I called up a bunch of friends and said, "Hey, you wanna go out?" and they all did. So we went out to what we thought was going to be an open mic, but turned into a night of watching the Cubs kick the Braves' behinds (Yay Cubbies!) followed by the five of us sitting in a corner of the bar jamming on our guitars and singing. It was fun. Nice and low key. I wasn't at all nervous about playing. And this random guy came over with a harmonica and started jamming with us when he could. And I thought to myself, "What a rockstar moment. To be sitting here with some friends, enjoying a beverage, playing my guitar in a bar. If I really was famous, this is the kind of thing my fans would kill to see and the media would be all over. But I'm not famous. Yet. So this is really nice."

So thank you to my friends who came out last night and made me feel like a rockstar. I'll see if I can comp you all in to my first big Chicago show.