Any of my science geek friends will get a kick out of this. I know I did. "Simply place your microscopic black hole on the surface of the earth and wait." Charming. Simply charming.

My 2000th journal entry will be about how odd I am. Appropriate, don't you think?

So yeah, my sleeping patterns are completely off. As are my eating patterns. And house-taking-care-of patterns. If it wasn't for the money, I couldn't do the whole 9-5 day job thing. My ideal day would start with me waking up around 9am, having a shower and breakfast, playing with my cat for a while, then going about my day with the things that need to get done -- errands as necessary, various bits of correspondence, etc. Maybe have lunch around two and work on music or art or something. Spend my evening at the theater or at a club doing a show. Come home and have a snack. Go to bed around 3am. Wake up again at 9. Or something like that. But this whole day job thing, with the waking up at 6 so I can be there by 8...I get home at 6pm and want to take a nap. On nights when I can, I sleep from about 7 to 10. And then I'm up until 3. Like tonight. I managed to get some exercise in around midnight. Fortunately, my exercise bike doesn't make much noise, or I'm sure my downstairs neighbors would hate me. Maybe that's where I went wrong, because now my mind is racing all over the place and I can't get to sleep. Which is why I'm blogging at quarter to three in the morning. I'm fantasizing about things I wish I could say but know I shouldn't, and trying to schedule a reading of my play, and thinking about my gig tonight, worrying that there won't be enough bands or that nobody will show up to be in the audience, and thinking about my show in December, and trying to plan out my produciton and rehearsal schedules for the show I'm directing in the spring, and getting mesmerized by how beautiful my cat is, and wishing that the heat would come on in my apartment because while it isn't exactly cold in here yet, it is getting a bit chilly and I'd really like to be warm. That was the nice part about being sick -- I had a fever so I was warm enough. That, and I had no appetite for a few days, so I think I lost a couple of pounds. And I'm thinking about the fact that I'm getting older and my metabolism is going to be slowing down so if I want to maintain the weight I'm at now or lose weight, I'm going to have to start paying a lot more attention to not only what I'm eating, but how much of it, and I'm going to have to make a conscious effort to get exercise, no matter how much I'd rather take a nap with my cat on my lap. And I really should have done laundry today because I have no idea what I'm going to wear to my gig tonight and it's much better to make those decisions when I have all clean clothes because then the options are limitless, as opposed to now when I'm just going to have to go with what is clean, and I didn't wash my costume, either, for Wednesday, which either means I get to wear a grubby costume for another week (which isn't technically the end of the world) or I'll have to figure out some way to do laundry tomorrow around my show. And one of the sammich shops at which I play had to let me go for budgetary reasons and it kind of made me feel like doing cartwheels. It means I get my Sundays back, and that place was a little annoying to play, too, because of sound issues and the fact that I was sitting in the window so when the sun is shining, I'm baking, and when it's cold out, I'm freezing. But I got my Sundays back and that's good. My friends had a baby this week, too. A little boy. Welcome to the world, Samuel! I have to finish up his "welcome to the world" gift. Hopefully in November. Hopefully in November I'll get some semblance of a life back. Hopefully in November, I'll be able to get on some sort of work out routine. Hopefully in November I'll get to hang out with my friends again. Hopefully in November, I'll get some sleep.

Hey.

So I'm feeling a little better. I can breathe through my nose again, which is nice. Though I probably should not have been singing for three hours today. I kind of blew out my voice on "Me and Bobby McGee." But that's okay.

I honestly don't have anything interesting to comment on today. How dull. I'm sorry. I'll try to do something stupid and irrational tonight so I'll have a good story for you later. In the meantime, enjoy the nice weather!

Wow. I've not been this sick in a long time. My skull hurts. My sinuses are plugged, but not enough so that I can actually blow my nose. My body aches everywhere. I feel like a zombie 'cuz I'm just sitting around breathing through my mouth. I have no appetite, but I do have (drum roll please) a fever! And this is after I've taken drugs which are supposed to make me feel better -- the fever only came down by about .2 degrees. I can't remember the last time I had a fever. And of course, this is just about the worst possible time for me to be sick. I stayed home from work today and I'm trying to not have to do my show tonight, but my director (who would really be the only plausible understudy) has the stomach flu.

Wherever you are, I hope you're feeling better than me. Drink orange juice to make sure you don't catch this.

In general, I love October. I'm not sure why, but I've always had a special affinity towards October. Maybe it's because of Halloween. Maybe it is because October air is completely different from the air the rest of the year. The wind blows a little stronger to knock the brilliant leaves off of the trees. The light is vivid and crisp. And you shift to warm, comfortable things like soup and thick sweaters that you haven't worn in months and are still new enough to make you love them (as opposed to in January when you've been wearing the same, shapeless sweaters for months and can't wait to shed them and get some fresh air on your skin). October is just magical to me, somehow.

Unfortunately, my body doesn't feel the same way my heart does about October. My sinuses are staging a coup at the moment, trying to free my esophagus from the clutches of my too-tight throat. The mucous warriors in my nasal passages are trying to fight their way down to help my esophagus whatever way they can get there -- internally or externally -- and I think they just might be victorious. And in the midst of all of this, my brain has decided to play the conscientious objector card and has moved to Fiji for a brief respite. So if I seem a little off for the next couple of days, that's why.

I really do love October, though.

I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but I have to say that I think I'm just a little bit in love with the show Pushing Daisies. And I'm only just a little bit in love with it because it is only two episodes old, but they have been really wonderful episodes. "...and Digby thought about how much he loved salt..." It's just charming. The actors are adorable, the writing wonderful, the art direction is beautiful, and it makes me smile every time the narrator speaks because I believe it is the same guy who narrated the most recent version of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which as we all know, I loved very much. And it's one of those shows with a premise that is just unique enough to be able to sustain for a while, you know? The only thing I can see maybe getting old is how they get around the lovers not being able to touch, but so far, they've been pretty inventive. I dunno. I think it's just lovely television. In the way that makes me want to buy a new TV set because mine is really on its last legs.

So yeah, Pushing Daisies. Check it out. It'll make you smile.

Oh! And I hope the Rockies sweep the Diamondbacks. Rockies/Red Sox, I say. And then Rockies win the Series. It's about time the National League won. (Yes, I know the Cardinals won last year, but there are some teams we just don't like to think about in terms of them doing really well.)

Congratulations, Mr. Gore!

Actually, congratulations are in order for all of the Nobel prize winners announced this week. It just struck me as particularly fun that Al Gore and the people fighting to raise awareness of global climate change won the peace prize. Mostly because it means we could have had a Nobel prize winner in the White House, as opposed to a man who dragged our country into a disastrously expensive war under false pretenses.

Congratulations, Mr. Gore!

Hey.

I'm not even really sure what I wanted to write about today. I'm a little unfocused. We had a show last night that was in some ways not so great and in other ways really wonderful. It was not so great because there wasn't a huge crowd and we all messed up a time or two in playing the songs. It was really wonderful in that there wasn't a huge crowd, so I actually got to talk to some of the audience members. And the sound guys thought we were great. And I think my drummer's boyfriend got some good pictures of us, unobstructed by random concert-goers. And let's face it, every band has to have the stories about playing random gigs for three people. There were more than three people there, but you know what I mean. It was fun and I think it will contribute to keeping us real.

So tonight, we're going to look at a recording studio. And I need to call another guy about another studio. When did I become this person? It's kind of odd. I used to play in my living room for my cat and now I'm going to be calling a guy who has recorded a lot of bands who I have heard of and respect to see if he'll record me, too. These little songs I played in my living room for my cat. That other people have started playing with me for strangers who dance around like crazy and smash their hands together when we finish. It's just a really odd transformation. And it's that much stranger to think that in the midst of all of that, I come in to work every day and sit at a desk and answer the phone and troubleshoot problems and things like that. Or is it that in the midst of my day job, I do the music thing? I'm not sure which one is predominant. I know which one I would like to be predominant, which is why I'm doing what I'm doing. It's just weird that I'm doing it. Who, in a million years, that knew me growing up, would have ever imagined I'd be a rock star? I guess I've just lost that fear of asking questions. You ask enough questions and get enough answers, you start to find that these formerly daunting things are really quite doable. I wanted to put a band together, so I talked to people. I wanted to play shows, so I wrote to venues and booking agents. You do enough of that stuff, and something is bound to come through, right? Right. You want to get recorded, you talk to people, and bam! You're touring studios. It sounds strange, right? But this is my life. This is what I do. So it's not really that weird to me. I'm amazed and thankful that I get to do this and I recognize that it's out of the norm, but a lot of things that once seemed unattainable are starting to look somewhat plausible. It's just a weird place to be. Amazingly cool, but weird.

And totally random -- I got a bug bite on my rear end that is placed exactly wrong to make a desk job fun. I'm just saying.

So this year wasn't our year. How heartbreaking was it to get swept by Arizona? And as much as I hate to say it, I now have three teams that I have to hate with a burning passion. Plus one that I just really don't like.

But I think what is saddest for me is not that it will be at least 100 years between World Series wins for the Cubs, or that we played so hard and did so well for so long only to be crushed, or that the curse has not been broken. It is that I won't get to watch the Cubs play baseball for six months. I won't get to listen to Pat and Ron on the radio. They're done for the season, and all I can do is wait until next season. I would plan a trip to Arizona for spring training, but I'll be directing a show then and probably shouldn't take a vacation in the middle of that. And to watch these guys play...it's like hanging out with my friends. I have come to realize over the years that one of my absolute favorite things in the world is to see people doing what they love to do. Which is why I get choked up at concerts or while watching awards ceremonies and whatnot. Here are a bunch of people who get to do what they truly love and are really good at for a living; how lucky are they? So to watch the Cubs play -- this team has more heart and soul than any other team in baseball. Those guys want to win it so badly, largely because they haven't for so long. I think everyone wants to be on the team that finally breaks the curse, you know? Everyone wants to be part of the team that finally brings another World Series championship to Chicago, for the first team to do it two years in a row, for one of the oldest teams in the league, in the greatest ballpark in the world. How can you not love to watch those guys play? Yes, it hurts when they lose, and yes, it's hard to see them not living up to their full potential. But every day, they are back out there on the field, playing as hard as they can. It's the ultimate test of faith and hope, to be a Cub, and to be a Cubs fan. And for the next six months, all I can do is wait. Read up on off-season trades and aquisitions. Write a letter to Hendry offering to break the curse by bringing my cat to opening day. Honestly, though, I think Owen would hate it. But I would do it if it meant possibly bringing a pennant to Chicago.

Thank you for an amazing season, guys. I loved watching you play, even when things weren't going so well. And I'll miss you for the next six months, until I get to see Derrek Lee up at the plate again, and Theriot making a fantastic, mid-air throw to first, and Zambrano chugging around the bases like he's running through quicksand. And DeRosa...I thought DeRosa was our most valuable player this season and I'm excited to see him in the old pinstripes again next year.

To next year!

Lots of randomness today.

I'm getting the crap kicked out of me by this show I'm in, and not in the good way. I like it when a director busts my chops and pushes me to do things I never thought I could have. But that is not what I'm talking about on this show. This show is the splinter in the finger that won't come out and almost looks like it could get infected. I don't think it is, but I did cut it open this morning with my nail clippers and some nice lovely puss came out. But the splinter did not. Which is annoying because I have a tendency to clap when the Cubs do good things (which they didn't do a lot of last night), and I had to clap like an idiot so as to avoid slamming my splinter in between my hands. I may give it another go after work. But in addition to the splinter, there's the guillotine blade whacking me in the forehead (which it doesn't do anymore because we changed things up, but still, getting whacked in the forehead with a guillotine blade is not something I would recommend), this lovely cut on my wrist that I don't even know how it happened (which I now have a band-aid on with Neosporin because it was hurting like a mo fo this morning, too, and now I get to look like an Owen Wilson copy-cat), and the seventeen bruises on my shins and calves from climbing top of the coffin and moving the guillotine around. Granted, I bruise easily. But this goes back to something I said months ago about no matter how old I get, I will always look like I'm twelve when I wear skirts because my legs are so beaten up. So yeah, this show is kicking the crap out of me.

Oh, my Cubbies. It's just game one. There were some beautiful defensive plays last night, on both sides, sometimes with the results I was hoping for, sometimes not. I am kind of wondering about the line-up from last night, not so much for who was in it, but literally for the batting order. I know we used about 130 different line-ups throughout the season, but the ones we were using at the end there were pretty good and last night's line up wasn't like those ones. Soriano, Theriot, Lee, Ramirez, Floyd, DeRosa, Jones, Soto, and the pitcher. I think. Give or take Floyd and Jones. But Joes was in the number two slot and Theriot was number eight or something? Didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. But it's only game one. We'll win tonight.

I have to say that one random nice thing about the Cubs being in the playoffs is that I'm talking to my brother a little more. Yes, it's text messages about the Cubs, but every good relationship has to start somewhere, right? In case I haven't mentioned it, my brother is a really wonderful person. I should start calling to just say hi every now and again. I'm really bad at that.

And I think I've also decided that sometime before I die, I'd kind of like to date a guy who drives a motorcycle with a sidecar on it. Just so I can ride in the sidecar. I think that would be fun. Show up to some big premiere or the Oscars or something in a sidecar. Which has me wanting to revisit my list of things I want in a potential partner. Like I really don't want to be with a smoker. Or someone who sees me as a project that needs to be figured out and solved or fixed. Or someone who puts all of the responsibility for his happiness on me. Or someone who needs to be fixed. And silly as it sounds, I'd really rather be with a vegetarian. Someone who is artistic and who would never think of putting his art on hold in favor of other things. Someone who really is an optimist, even if a jaded one. Someone who listens to the things I say and knows that the words I choose are the words I intend to use, not masks hiding some other hidden meaning or agenda. Someone who ohlds me so that I still feel it three days later. That kind of thing. I know there are more things on my list, and I know that the more things I add to my list, the smaller my chances are that I'll actually meet said life partner. But I'm okay with that. I'd rather be alone for the right reasons than with someone for the wrong ones. I think that's how that goes. Anyway.

I should do some work now. Enjoy your day and go Cubbies!

I have a new injury to add to the list of the most obnoxious injuries you can get, right up there with a papercut to the knuckle. A splinter on the inside of the knuckle, right at the joint where your finger bends, so that any time you try to bend your finger, the splinter gets pushed in a little farther, and any time you pick something up or open a door, it gets pushed in a little further and all you can do is wince. Because it's on your own hand, the inside of your hand, so you can't get a good grip on it with the tweasers and you can't bend the knuckle backwards enough to make the skin taught enough to get in there with a needle. It's just a pain in the ass. And people say it will get absrobed with time, so really all you can do is spend a few days wincing and washing your hair very gingerly until this scrap of plywood becomes part of your blood stream.

Nine o'clock tonight, baby. Nine o'clock.

When most people say they have wanted something their whole life, they mean for the last ten years or so. I don't think most people have that vivid of a memory beyond about ten years ago. People say, "I've wanted to make partner in this firm for my whole life," and really, they mean, "Since I got a job here, I've wanted to make partner," because really, what two year old knows what law firm he or she wants to be partner at?

I will admit that there is a little bit of exaggeration when I say this, but not that much. I have wanted the Cubs to win the World Series for my whole life. Granted, I should perhaps say, "I have wanted the Cubs to win the World Series for as long as I can remember" because although I swear I was born a Cubs fan, I probably wasn't very aware of them until I was about two. I don't remember watching my first game on TV, I just remember Cubs games being on a lot. I remmeber loving Harry Carey and switching over to the radio so I could still hear him during innings 4, 5, and 6. I remember my first game at Wrigley was a doubleheader when I was maybe 8, and we got there in the second inning of the first game and left in about the seventh inning of the second game and I have always felt gypped that my first trip to Wrigley, I didn't get to see a complete game. I remember having a Cubs shirt on which the arm holes were a little tight for my liking, but I was going to wear it anyway because it was a Cubs shirt. I remember Jody Davis and Rick Sutcliffe and Larry Bowa and Shawon Dunston and Andre Dawson and Keith Moreland and Ryne Sandberg and Lee Smith. I remember game 7 in 2003 and how my brother didn't breathe after the fifth inning, and the deathly silence that fell over the crowd as we lost. I remember cheering my heart out for the Cubs to come out for one last bow, to thank them for a great season, but they didn't, or couldn't, come back onto the field. I remember going to a standing room only game with my brother and having a blast. I remember going solo. I remember going in April when it was freezing, and in July when we were all just melting in the stands. I remember sitting up close and way far away, but still knowing that even when I was just cheering at home, that the Cubs could hear me screaming for them. I remember Hawkins' first appearance at Wrigley after he was traded. I remember Maddux's 300th win. I remember heartbreak after heartbreak as the Cubs lost time and time again. And I remember learning to hold onto that faint glimmer of hope every time the Cubs won that maybe, just maybe, they could get back in it. I know there are a few years there when I kind of tuned out, but it was always in the back of my mind to keep an eye on how the Cubs were doing. And now they are one of the major bright spots in my life. Even when they are losing, there is always baseball. And the Cubs play with more heart and soul than any other baseball team out there.

I will not be in attendance at the rally downtown today because I have to work. But I am cheering for the Cubs with everything I have. The thought crossed my mind to drop out of the play I'm in (that opens on Friday) so that I can camp out at my local bar for the month of October and watch the games. I would never actually do that, but the thought crossed my mind. And you know I'm going to bring my walkman to the theater so I can listen to the game before the show and tune in as soon as curtain call is over.

Eleven more wins. I know we have it in us. We just have to make sure that they come in a nice, orderly fashion -- we can't lose the first three and win the last eleven; it won't work that way. We have to make sure wins come first. Just keep hitting, guys. And keep up the pitching. And know that you have an entire city behind you. More than a city -- there are people all over the country and all over the world pulling for you. Because we all want this. And we've all wanted it our whole lives. Let's make history this year!

Go Cubbies!

We're singin'
Go Cubs Go
Go Cubs Go
Hey, Chicago, what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna win today!
Go Cubs Go
Go Cubs Go
Hey, Chicago, what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna win today!

I know, I know, I've been remiss in posting about the show Tuesday night. I've been trying to find the words to describe it.

All day Tuesday, I was nervous. Not that we wouldn't have enough audience there, but because of who some of the audience members were going to be. I was going to have at least two ex-boyfriends in the crowd, a friend from high school I hadn't seen in ten years, my entire immediate family, and my friend from Boston all there at the same time. I wanted to make sure they would all have fun and I wanted to be able to say hello to everyone and what if they didn't like my music? Then what? And I know that all of that is stuff that is out of my control, but it was making me nervous all day anyway.

So when I got to the venue, I was feeling a little bit better about my performance abilities and whatnot, but I started to freak out when by 9:00pm, we had seven audience members. That's not enough to be invited back to play again. And let's face it -- people tend to fink out on Tuesday night shows. People have to work the next day, or they're tired from work that day, or whatever. It's hard to get people to go out on a Tuesday. Which is kind of the point. At this venue, and many others, if you can bring a good crowd at a bad time, they figure you have to be able to bring an even better crowd at a good time. It's kind of an audition.

But then people started streaming in. A guy in whose wedding I stood up. My Boston friend. My brother and sister-in-law had about eight of their friends in tow. My high school friend. The drummer from the band I used to be in. And a whole bunch more people I hadn't expected to show up at all. It was incredible! Almost like a reunion of sorts. I was doing my best to talk to everyone, knowing full well that meant I wasn't really talking to anybody, but I did, at the very least, get to say hi to everyone, which was nice. And I got to hug my friends who I hadn't seen in a very long time, which was also wonderful. And then it was time to play.

Oh.

My.

God.

I don't think we've ever sounded that good, even taking into account the song wherein I spaced out and started singing again too soon. We recovered from that, and my little technical malfunction, to put on an amazing show. Amazing. People were singing along to songs they had never heard before. People were dancing. And after every song, the crowd was so loud I got that ringing thing going on in my ears. They started chanting for an encore when we were done, and the sound guy said we could do it, so we did it. And again, the audience erupted in cheers. It was insane. Best crowd ever. Best sound we've had so far. Great bartenders and door guy. It was all around just...exactly what I needed to feel like a rockstar. A real musician with the potential to make a career out of this.

I know not everyone who hears my music will like it. But so far, a lot of people are getting a lot of enjoyment out of the songs I write and that feels so amazing I can't even tell you. I'm realizing more and more lately how much I've given up to be able to do the things I do, so it's really nice to know that my efforts haven't been wasted. I'm accomplishing exactly what I want to accomplish. How many people get to say that? And how lucky am I that I'm one that does?

I didn't want to go home after the show. I wanted to just play again. Just keep on playing all night while people danced and talked and drank. But eventually, I did have to leave. And I carried all of my equipment out by myself and drove home to curl up with my cat and a crossword puzzle before going to sleep. And I went in to work the next day with none of my co-workers being the wiser as to my stardom from the night before. I kind of like that. I'm a normal person who does normal things. I'm just super crazy lucky that I get to play music for a room full of cheering fans every now and again, too.

So thank you to the Elbo Room for letting us play -- we'll be back soon, I can almost promise you that (working on logistics as we speak). Thank you to the sound guy for making us sound amazing. Thank you to the bartenders for keeping the crowd lubricated. Thank you from me specifically to my bandmates for making my songs sound so much better than I ever could have on my own. And most of all, thank you to everyone who came out on Tuesday night to hear some music, spend time with friends, cheer, dance and drink. You guys made this gig one I will never forget.

Thank you! And keep an eye out for future gigs because we're only gonna get better.

So we're getting down to the wire. The magic number is four, with only six games left to play. We have to take four out of six games. Or pray that the Brewers do worse than we do. And I have one question:

Where is the city-wide buzz about the Cubs?

Two years ago when the other baseball team in Chicago was doing well, the whole city was alive with energy. Reports of their daily games topped the sports segement of every newscast. Pictures of the team in victory covered the newspapers. Even former Cub Ryne Sandberg encouraged Cubs fans to get behind the other team, partially because when it's the Cubs' turn, fans from the other team will get behind us.

Baloney.

Tackleball season has started (aka American football) and the horrendous performances of the Bears seems to be topping every newscast. Sports commentators can't stop talking about how horrible our quarterback is. And then they talk about how sad it is that the other baseball team, who won the World Series two years ago, is in last place in the AL Central this year. And then they mention, in the last thirty seconds of their broadcast, that the Cubs won again and are now three games up on the Brewers in the NL Central. What the hell? Where is the excitement? Isn't it good for our city that the Cubs, who started out the season with just about the worst record in the league, have come back to sit alone atop the National League Central Division? I mean, come on! Reporters live for this kind of thing. In the off season, we fired the old manager, hired a new one, spent obscene amounts of money on some new, key players. We've had brawls this year and injuries and trades and rumors and there's the whole speculation thing about what's going to happen to the Cubs next year with the selling of the Tribune Company. And despite all of this (or perhaps because of it), the Cubs are leading the National League Central Division. This has been one hell of a season to be a Cubs fan. So why are they last on the bill on both television and radio sportscasts?

I'm wondering if it has anything to do with a sort of knock-on-wood mentality -- if we get too excited before the division is ours, then it won't happen. Or if it's because the NL Central is the worst division in the league (or the best, depending on how you look at it -- if you have that many teams all playing each other more than anyone else, and so many of them are right around the .500 mark, wouldn't that imply that everyone is just about equally good?). The Cubs aren't going to win 100 games this year. Not even 90. But the Cardinals won the World Series last year with only 83 wins on the season and I'll bet you dollars to donuts that St. Louis was all in a hubbub over it. Or if it's just that too many times, the Cubs have gotten only so far in the post-season that the mass media no longer believes that we can actually win the whole thing? With the other baseball team, there was no goat curse to stand in their way. We still have that to deal with. But we also have DeRosa and Soriano and Lee and Ramirez and Theriot and Lilly and Zambrano and hell, even Fuld and Soto. And we want this worse than any other team in baseball, I can promise you that.

So on behalf of the relatively quiet Chicago media, GO CUBBIES! I have hope. I have faith. And you know I'll have my radio with me for every game, no matter where I am.

It's just about that time of year again when I get up before the sun and don't get home from work until after sunset. It is kind of cool to get to see the sun do it's thing on both ends, and I have to say that in general, I really like my new job. The work so far has been stuff that at least makes me feel like I'm doing something or accomplishing something. No, it's not earth-shattering, change-the-world kind of work, but I stay occupied. And I really like the people here. We're starting to get used to each other and more and more bits of personality are starting to show. It's fun. And I do like that I get to listen to Lin Brahmer in the mornings again. I missed that. But it is kind of sad to not see the sun much anymore. Or to only see it through the window. Oh well. At least it's still warm out so I can wear skirts to work and don't have to pull out the sweaters and (gasp!) pantyhose yet.

You know, it's amazing what getting rid of anger and grudges will do for you. I was very badly hurt by an ex-boyfriend a while ago and I guess, looking back on it, I never quite got back to myself, you know? He somehow had managed to make me doubt myself and feel worthless as a human being. Which is funny because I know (as do most of the people around me) that one of the last things I am is worthless. I'm quite the useful sort. But to be involved with someone in that sense who makes you feel less of a person...it's hard to recover from that. I dated after him, a great guy who told me every day how wonderful I am, but I still didn't feel it about me, you know? I looked in the mirror and saw adequate, not amazing.

But I recently was able to make peace with said ex-boyfriend. I was able to say my piece and I think he actually heard it, so I was able to get to this lovely place of indifference towards him. And ever since then, I look in the mirror and see extraordinary. I see attractive. I see useful and competent and intelligent. All because I let go of my anger.

You should try it. Forgive the people who have hurt you and move on with your life. You'll be amazed what is still out there for you. (And I mean that as the royal "you," as in anyone who might be angry or holding a grudge about something, not directed at any one specific person.)

Okay, there are those would would argue that I am smarter than the average bear. There are probably those who would disagree with that statement, but for the duration of this entry, let's just pretend that I am smarter than the average bear. (No, not literally, Dwight.)

What the hell? Seriously.

I know it's hard work to be a postal carrier. Especially on icky rainy or snowy days. And I know that it's easy to zone out for a minute or two and get distracted and that sometimes this means the mail goes to the wrong place. But when mail is put back in the mailbox with the address blacked out and the words "Not at this address" written on it in large bold letters, do you take it back to the same place that just said that it was delivered incorrectly? I think even the average bear would say no. And yet, this happens on almost a daily basis here. Sometimes, I'll get the same piece of mis-delivered mail three or four times before it finally goes back to the sender. I admire the tenacity, but really. The US Postal Service has such a bad rep for poor delivery service anyway; it would make sense to follow the instructions printed on the envelope in large bold letters to "Return to Sender" because the addressee is "Not at This Address." I mean, really.

And, as luck would have it, my paycheck got lost in cyberspace over the weekend. Hooray for direct deposit! The payroll people sent it and got a confirmation that it went, but my bank had no record of it ever showing up. Until they decided to check all accounts and for some reason, it was waiting to go into a non-existent savings account, which is why it didn't show up in my checking account. So then they put it into my checking account. Twice. Plus one thousand extra dollars, just for fun. They took the thousand dollars back within hours, but the second paycheck...well, here's hoping they still leave one in there when they "fix" everything.

And finally, my bathtub. It doesn't drain anymore. At all. I cleaned the hair trap, I stuck my fingers in the drain to get anything that had made it through, I poked around with a piece of floral wire, and I spent a good half an hour plunging, but nothing. I had to empty the tub into my toilet with a bucket in order to be able to bathe this morning. So I try to call my landlord to let them know that there is a problem and the phone just rings and rings and rings and rings...literally, I cooked my lunch (two minutes in the microwave) and they still didn't answer. Really? Not even voice mail or some automated system? Not even voice mail or some automated system. Four times I tried calling, each time letting it ring upwards of 20 times before hanging up and dialing again. I even tried calling directory assistance to see if perchance they had moved and got three new numbers, none of which went anywhere. So I tried the original number again and bam! Someone picked up on the first ring. Seriously? Seriously.

Now, back to me being smarter than the average bear. How do things like this happen? Deliver the mail to the right place. Pick up the phone when it answers. Put electronic funds transfers where they are supposed to be. Okay, maybe the last one is a little tricky, but how about just transfering the right amount of money once it has been determined that money should be transferred? Is it really that difficult?

Sorry. Had to rant for a minute there. Back to your reguarly scheduled programming. You were watching COPS, weren't you? Good grief...

I think it's interesting that ever since the show Floss! ended, I've been flossing more. I don't know if it's because I suddenly decided that I should take better care of my teeth, or if it's because I miss Floss!ing so much that I'll take it in whatever form I can get it. But yeah, I'm flossing now. Kind of regularly. If not daily, then at least weekly. That's better than yearly, right?

And I know that one certain reader is going to lambast me for this because, well, that's what this reader likes to do (I do think it's kind of cool that I'm popular enough to get hate mail), but I also think it's kind of interesting that I'm the kind of person that people miss. I spent so much of my childhood feeling invisible and honestly walking around completely unnoticed, that it's just interesting to me that on several occasions now, people who I thought were long gone from my life have reappeared to say that they miss me. I'm not saying it's a good thing or a bad thing -- each situation is different -- I just find it interesting.

Oh, and I want my Jim. From The Office. I'd even settle for a Tim from the British version, but yeah, he's such a great character. *sigh*