I've been dreaming about vampires a lot lately. Like I'm Buffy and they are chasing me and I know I have to kill them, but I'd rather just run away from it and not have to kill them because I know I don't know how. In my dream last night, I had this really crappy stake that more than anything was just a splinter-producing wood chip and I was running around after a while hitting everyone I knew with it. Most of them were okay, but a vampire or two did disintegrate from my group.

The sad part is that according to several online dream dictionaries, dreaming about vampires is not necessarily a good thing. It could mean that I feel physically or emotionally drained (which I kind of do), or that I know that deep down inside, someone I am drawn to is bad for me. Given everything that has been going on lately, it could also just be a time of year thing. Because the thought of this person being bad for me makes me really sad. I guess part of me knows it, but part of me wants to see what will happen anyway. And in all truth, this person makes me really happy during my waking hours. Maybe I'm thinking these dreams are indicative of the wrong person. Or maybe I'm putting too much faith in my dreams all together. It's just odd for me to have dreams about the same thing three or four nights in a row. Eh. Now that I have an hour here and an hour there to myself, maybe it's time to do some examining of my relationships and figure out which ones are toxic.

You know, it's not like I've ever found this job interesting or exciting or I've ever really enjoyed being here, but this is ridiculous. No, I don't want to be here. No, I'm not ready to leave today. I wanted to be out of debt first. I wanted to have a contingency plan. I want to at least have a schedule that is sort of clear enough that I can apply for other jobs. And the way the whole thing is being handled -- talk about feeling worthless. Yes, I have felt useless and worthless here for years, but this is worse than normal because nobody will talk to us. Nobody will tell us what is going on. I hope they do fire me so I can tell them exactly what a shitty job they are doing. How do you come into work every day knowing that this could be your last day in your office, or it could not be your last day in your office? It's like fucking Chinese water torture. Is it worth continuing this project? Is it worth starting this one? Is it worth filing everything that's on your desk, or will it just have to be shredded in ten minutes anyway? If they would just fire me, I'd know. I could set out a course of action. To be stuck in limbo is the worst possible place to be and I've been here long enough. Which says I could just up and leave of my own volition. Which also scares the shit out of me. Fuck. This was not handled at all well.

Maybe the whole point of interpersonal relationships is that they are not supposed to make sense or be easy, because if they were, we'd get bored with them and/or take them for granted. Maybe this is my lesson to learn in this life -- that it really doesn't make sense and you just kind of have to go on faith. Or maybe I'm a crackpot who is trying to justify a screwy situation. I dunno. I'd rather think of it in the former sense, as opposed to the latter. Maybe that will be my lesson next time around -- to learn to be a crackpot. Or how to use a crockpot.

I watched Super Size Me today. It's an interesting commentary and I think it is very well done. I would very much recommend seeing it. The strange thing for me, though, was looking at so much McDonald's food. That doesn't even look like food to me anymore. I felt kind of sick when the film was over, almost like I had consumed that much grease. Granted, I'm not perfect in my eating habits -- I probably eat more sugar than I should -- but all that fat and cholesterol? Ugh. It just kind of made me ill.

But yeah, go see this film, or rent it or whatever. It is very interesting to see what that diet did to him, and also interesting how many times the one doctor talks about the effects of a high fat diet. I'd like the Atkins diet followers to get the same blood tests and stuff that the guy in the film did, just for shits and grins, you know? Anyway. Yeah, go see it.

I'm nervous.

I don't know if it is opening night jitters or in anticipation of tomorrow. I'm so tempted to back out just because I'm scared. I'll go, I'll do a great job, and I won't get it and I'll be horribly disappointed. I'm not trying to be self-deprecating here; I'm beng realistic. I've been to auditions like this before and I never get them. I am talented, but so are a million other people, you know? It's nothing personal, it's not a slight against me, it's just the way things go. I don't get these kinds of jobs. But then again, maybe I'm due. I don't know if that is a more frightening prospect or not. Either way, I'm all kinds of nervous. I hope it translates well onto the stage tonight. The nervous energy, that is. And then I hope I can actually get some sleep so I don't suck tomorrow.

You know what? If I don't go, I won't get it. If I do go, I might get it, but probably not. It is that "might" that will make me go. Because either way, I won't get it, but if I don't try, I'll only have myself to blame. Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias, si?

The internet is a really strange thing. Really strange. And I'll tell you why.

There is a website where you can go and listen to four of my songs. It didn't cost me anything to put my four little songs up there, but they're there and anybody who wants to listen to them can. Simple as that. But that's not the weird part. The weird part is that people actually do listen to them. And like them. People who I don't know. People just stumble upon this site, have a listen, and send me a note saying they really like my tunes. I've had requests for CDs, requests for a fan site with pictures and stuff...it's bizarre. It's like a little taste of fame. And the really strange part is, I'm still me. I have a band-aid on my finger because my cuticle ripped yesterday and it hurt. And I get messages from people saying I'm the best and I'm their hero and so on and so forth. And I go home and make a mental note of the fact that I need to clean my bathroom sink. It's so bizarre.

I don't think I'll ever be one of those people who abuses her celebrity, assuming I actually become one. The coffee shop where I play likes to give me free tea. I feel bad taking it. I make them charge me for my beverages. Because the way I see it, I'm a person just like anybody else. They are a business that depends on their customers paying for goods and services. I am requesting a service and some goods, so I should pay for it like anyone else. And the one girl who works there feels bad charging me. I don't get it. I'm fantastically flattered, but I still think it's kind of funny.

So yeah, thanks to the internet, this brilliant invention, I have gotten my music out there to total strangers who like it. Someone even said my music is therapeutic. My music. The simple little songs I wrote in my living room that I didn't think anyone would ever hear have touched absolute strangers, thanks to this marvelous invention called the internet. It is so strange.

And now I have to go home and wash the dishes. I've been neglecting my household duties because I've been so busy lately. And while I'm washing my dishes, someone I've never met will be sitting at home or driving in his/her car listening to music that I wrote and wondering what my life is like. I'm not alone in thinking that is bizarre, am I?

So tonight is preview night and for the first time probably since the beginning of the rehearsal period, I felt good about my performance last night. Not great, but good. Not terrible. And looking at the other scenes, I think they look pretty good. I did a decent job with costumes. Not spectacular, but decent. Everyone is dressed at least. It was frustrating for me to put clothes on 13 people in about ten different short pieces with about three weeks to do it because I couldn't come up with a real design scheme or anything. In most cases, it came down to what fit who. But I looked at it again last night and it looks pretty good. Not spectacular, but pretty good. I'm not proud, but I'm satisfied, if that makes any sense. And now I'm rambling, so I'm going to stop. One of these days, I'll get some sleep and I'll be more coherent.

So I am under so much stress right now, my skin is taking it's cues from Mt. St. Helens. It's really not pretty. I kind of blew up last night and it felt good to get it out there, you know? But still, I have a lot of work to do in the very immediate future and I don't know how much I have in me left to be able to get it done. I will get it done. And then I'll cry afterwards.

But on the up side, I rediscovered this hat that I used to wear in college. It's a green-ish brown-ish gray-ish sort of cabbie hat. Nice and beat up. And with my brown overcoat, it makes me look all cute and hip hop-ish. I dig it. It makes me happy to wear it. So that's good. A little bright spot in my sea of chaos.

I love all of the people running around criticizing Kerry for not having a plan to get our troops out of Iraq and using that as a reason to not vote for him. Guess what? Bush doesn't have a plan to get our troops out of Iraq, nor does he have the faintest idea of what to do while we're over there. How do I know this? I've been listening to the news for the past two years. Our guys (by which I mean men and women in service) are still over there getting killed on a daily basis with no end in sight and the only remedies Bush has been able to come up with involve spending more of our tax dollars over there on what, I don't know. If he had a plan, it didn't work. And he won't fess up to making a mistake. He won't say, "Okay, that didn't work; let's try something else." Kerry looks at Iraq, at what is going on over there and says, "Hey, that isn't working. Let's try to think of something else." That, to me, sounds like a good idea. Call me crazy.

I'd also like to link to this endorsement of John Kerry from a newspaper from George Bush's home town because I think it is well written and brings up a lot of very valid points.

I saw an ad on TV last night for a sort of CD player type thing that plays smells. Like an air freshner that rotates the fragrance every half an hour, and you can buy different discs that have different arrays of smells. Granted, I could have been hallucinating after making five sets of fake breasts, but I think it was a real ad. And the first thing that popped into my head was not, "Wow, what a neat invention," it was, "Wow, they're ripping off Harold and Maude." Such a lovely scene, when she plays her odorifics for him. And now, with the invention of this smell player, Maude is no longer a crackpot working on some insane invention, she is a trailblazer in the world of air perfumery. People fifty years from now will watch Harold and Maude (I hope) and not find that scene at all funny or bizarre. It will be mundane. Normal. Harold will be the odd ball for living in a house that smells the way it smells instead of smelling like a cool, mountain stream.

I hate it when they ruin movies for me.

Well, at least I don't have to worry about them anymore. The season is over. It will be at least 2006 before we can say the Cubs made it to two post seasons in a row again. Since 1908. You know, we should just wait and get to the post season in 2007 and 2008 to make it an even hundred years.

I do still love the Cubs. I am excited to see what they're going to do with the team for next year. I hope they keep Walker and Hollandsworth, and I hope Hollandsworth gets healthy. I'd like to see Alou and Nomar come back, too. Because next year is our year, man. Next year. The cry of the true Cubs fan.

We'll see you in the spring!

Okay, so we're only a game out, not a game and a half. Still.

Also, rabbit, rabbit as it is now October.

And also, most states have voter registration deadlines and most of said deadlines are coming up in the next day or so, so if you are not registered to vote, please do so in the next day or two. This is an important election and we all need to get out there and vote, regardless of who we are voting for. Who knows? Mickey Mouse could actually win it this year.

Do you know that you're breaking my heart? Do you know how much it hurts? Do you know how invested I am in this? Do you know that I cry every time I listen to you? Do you know how loud I scream or how close I come to actually praying? Do you know how many people you are letting down?

Three games left in the season. Three games. And we're a game and a half out. The sad truth of being a Cubs fan is that you always know that there is another year right around the corner. You can't give up on them because you love them too much. But still, a little piece of you dies every time they lose. Yes, I am being overly dramatic. But yes, I love the Chicago Cubs and it kills me to see them this close to the post season and losing such painful games to such awful teams. Our defense has been amazing, but our offense just can't deliver. It is exactly the opposite of the rest of the season and it is so frustrating. So painful. So disappointing.

But there are still three more games to play this year. And we're only a game and a half out...

I'm turning into a morning drink person. I like coming in to work and having my tea. For the tea part, not the coming in to work part. I'm currently enjoying a nice blend of white and green teas that has all of the benefits of green tea, but without that mown grass aftertaste that so many green teas have. It's the addition of the white, which actually has more antioxidants than green tea. So I'm doing something moderately healthy for my body, which makes me feel good. Especially with the schedule I've been keeping as of late. I'm eating all funky and I don't think I've gotten a decent night's sleep in about three weeks, and when I do sleep, I dream of costumes and the problems associated therewith and then I stay at the theater too late or I get a drink afterwards which turns into six and I've not been eating right so the alcohol really fucks me up and I will be so beyond glad when this show is up and running so I don't have to worry about it anymore so I feel good coming in to work and drinking green and white tea in the morning. Give my body a little immuno boost that I am pretty sure it needs. Moreso than usual. Will I keep this up after the show is over? Who knows. But for right now, I am a "tea first thing in the morning" person and I kind of like it.

So I'm contemplating this audition that if I get it, could significantly change my life. Which, of course, means I won't get it. I don't want to talk about it too much, but it is kind of fun to think of my life changing in that way. It's time. And, of course, that means the thought of going to this audition is scaring the crap out of me. But I'm going to go and at the very least try. Then when I'm not cast, at least I know it wasn't for lack of effort. But still, keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?

So in his infinite wisdom, Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger has apparently made it illegal to smoke in prison in California.

Now, let me insert a nice little disclaimer here -- I have never been to prison. I don't know what it is like. I have only seen several dozen prison movies, none of them pornographic in nature, so I am forced to assume that they are an accurate portrayal of prison life. Now back to my rant.

Does this seem like a bad idea to anyone else? No, I am not in favor of smoking. I will, sometimes, hold my breath when I hug a friend who smokes because the smell is repulsive. I have seen plenty of photographs of diseased lungs. I know smoking is bad for you. However, let's consider the social importance of cigarettes in prison society. According to movies, cigarettes are currency. Eliminating cigarettes from prison society would be like saying, "Okay, nobody has any money any more. You are all worth the same amount and none of you has anything with which to barter to get the things you want or need." Yeah, that's not going to cause chaos. Now, imagine saying that to a group of several thousand convicted criminals. No, not all criminals are angry, violent people. But there are enough of them that are (I'm betting) that their reaction to such a proclimation would not be to shed their clothing and start singing "Give Peace a Chance." And now take all of these irritated convicted criminals and tell them that not only are they worth nothing and they have nothing worth anything, but they still have to live in a teeny, tiny box with all of these other irritated convicted criminals. And then, as if things weren't tense enough, deprive them of the nicotine they are so dependent upon. I'm guessing a lot of them in there had been smoking for years, and their nicotine consumption skyrocketed once they were incarcerated because really, what else is there to do? So now, you've got thousands of angry convicted criminals all having nic fits at the same time and no real outlet for their anger and frustration. And what are you going to do to a prisoner if he/she breaks the no-smoking-in-prison law? Put them in jail? Solitary confinement? You want a guy having nic fits sitting in solitary confinement? You know how pissed off he's going to be when he gets out of there?

I know that the whole point of prison is that you are deprived of your everyday rights because you did something society deems unacceptable. I know that smoking is damaging not only to those inhaling the cigarettes, but everyone around them. But considering the possible consequences of removing the one sedative from an already volatile powder keg...I'm torn. It will be interesting to see how this ban pans out.

So I'm anal retentive. So what? Is that really such a bad thing?

The weird thing is that I'm only anal retentive with other people's things. Seriously. You should see my house. I'm not at all obsessive about cleaning, but it's getting to a point where even I am getting disgusted. It's not so much dirty as just messy. My chaos is taking over my apartment and I am almost having problems finding things. Almost. Not quite. I keep telling myself that as soon as this Halloween show goes up, I'll be able to give my apartment a good scrubbing and purge a lot of the useless crap. It needs it.

But this Halloween show. I've been freaking out about the costumes for it for weeks now, running around finding things, pulling things, making things. But I haven't been able to organize them yet because of a lack of rack, hangers, and other organizational tools. But finally, all of that has come together. Well, not so much the hangers, but the rest of it. And I can lay everything out and very easily see which actor is missing which pieces. I feel so much better now. Granted, I still have a lot of work to do, but at least I can see it all coming together. I know better which things I don't have to worry about anymore and which things I do. That makes me happy. Or at least, it lets me sleep at night with only one nightmare about clothing...

I can't help but think about how many world problems would be solved if everyone wore comfortable shoes. All of the time. Not just slippers when you get home from work, but comfortable work shoes. Comfortable going out shoes. All around all of the time comfortable shoes. There really is nothing nicer than sliding on a pair of shoes that hug your feet just right and know that at the end of the day, your feet will feel just as wonderful as they do right now.

I rediscovered this pair of shoes in my closet that I bought in Chinatown in New York City for three dollars and I love them. So comfy. And they make this cute "pat, pat" sound when I walk. And they are fuzzy and blue. I love them. It is making me very happy and peaceful today to be wearing these shoes. Imagine if everyone got to feel like that all of the time.

So here's my little tip for shoe designers -- funky is cool, but comfortable sells to everyone. Or something like that. Just make comfortable shoes, okay? No more eight inch heels with no padding in the ball of the foot. Those just make people cranky.

Some of the most beautiful music in the world is created by a very sweet little man by the name of Colin Hay. His songs are simple, yet masterful in their construction. The words are real and honest and true. The voice is not perfect, but it speaks to your soul in the way your best friend's embrace does. If you do not know of what I speak, please make the time in your day to go out and pick up a record by Colin Hay. Your heart will thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Hay, for sharing your beauty with us.

Ten games left in the regular season. Half a game lead in the wild card race. I am currently knocking on every wooden surface I encounter.

Did you know the last time the Cubs made it to the post season in two consecutive seasons was 1907 and 1908?

Did you know the last time the Cubs had two consecutive above-500 seasons was in the 1950's?

Do you know how badly I want the Cubs to make it to the post-season this year?

Ten games to go. Gotta maintain a half-game lead. My Cubbies can do it.

Knock on wood.