My current migraine messes with my head, and leads me to think illogically.

The logical thing to do would be to go to bed and sleep it off. But if I were thinking logically, I wouldn't be having this headache, and thus, be having the need to sleep it off. Anyway to sleep now, so early and so hot in the evening is unthinkable. Instead, my illogical ways of thinking have led me to

1)Paint 10 toenails
2)Eat one (1) fudgcicle
3)Skim through a book
4)Play 3 songs on my guitar
5)Consider practicing for the concert
6)Not return some necessary phone calls
7)Re-consider the consideration for practicing due to head pounding
8)Begin a blog entry

And after all that including continuous head pounding, its still not late enough to go to bed.

So tomorrow's the big night: Concert night. It seems as though alot of people may show up. Even Sheila and Harley, my neighbors that always talk to me forever about cats and JFK might show up. It's gonna be one jammin party...if people don't fall asleep. I'm a little nervous since I do feel unprepared. But it's all for fun anyways right?

Sometimes I wish I were a comedy writer. Then I'd get more traffic to my blog. And I'd be writing for fabulous shows like Sex and the City (which is coming this Fall to the WB by the way...hooray!). But maybe...just maybe, I can write for my own show.

It would be called: Bikes and the Valley. Not as glamourous, but just as fabulous. I can be the topic of my own show, and write about a writer who Blogs about writing shows. Intead of Carrie Bradshaw's shoes and Mr. Big as her weakness, a nice pair of pants and a good cup of coffee will be my vice. (Speaking of pants, Emily had on a fantastic pair of jeans on today. Fantastic.)

Oh boy. This is going to be a good show. I can feel it. Oh yea, and I'm calling dibs on the title of Bikes and the Valley, trademarks and copyrights and whatnot, so I better not see this show on TV in the future! (Unless I'm co-writing it of course. And the role of myself is played by Sandra Oh. Even though she's korean and I'm chinese...no, that won't do... I wonder if Ellen plays a good chinese. They do wonders with makeup these days. She's a comedian, the show would practically write itself then. Plus I can use all the help from her soaring ratings on her own show. PLUS! her show tapes in Burbank, she can just dance her way down the street to my apartment, we'd go over ideas for the next installment of Bikes in the Valley, and she can have me as a guest on her show to promote my own show! This is going to work out fan-tabulously.)

This will be great. Oh yes.

# of falls within the past two weeks:
SH: 2
The World: 0

Ha. Take that world!

*********

It's too hot and I can't sleep. So I've decided to blog instead.

May I just say how much I love Wallace and Grommit. We're working on the movie's website at work, and I get to see bits from the movie, which looks hilarious. Sexual innuendos up the wazoo! They're everywhere. Robert doesn't believe me, but oh, they're in there. It comes out Oct 7th. Who's with me?

I like the fact that I keep a blog. I can go back and read about events that I may have forgotten about, like things from college. But with it being so public, sometimes I can't write about the more private issues. Which I guess is where a journal comes in. But really, who writes manually anymore?

I can't continue this entry anymore. It's getting to that point where I'm just writing for the sake of writing. Plus my knee is killing me. So I guess I'll go to bed. I wish it wasn't so hot.

Yesterday I spent half an hour just staring out my window spying on my neighbor's cat. He was doing backflips on the walkway. Left...and then right, and then back left again...and then...wait...wait...back to the right! He could've just been trying to scratch his back, who knows. But it was fascinating.

This reminds me of the days back in Apt 15 when we'd used to watch Monty in his tank. Especially when finals and papers and midterms came around. During those times, he was especially fascinating to watch. He'd climb up on his rock, and then jump off of it, letting the water safely float him down. It was as if he knew that we had to study and write papers, and so would seduce us even more by giving us quite the show. Who knew crayfish could be such the tease?

I'm not a huge fan of cats seeing how I'm allergic to them, but there have been a few that have caught my eye. If I wasn't so allergic, I would definitely have a cat. In fact, I'd probably steal my neighbor's cat. There are about 10 altogether in our complex, but only this one I was watching would I steal. He's just adorable. I think he can sense that I like him. If I leave my door open, he'll have the audacity to open the screen door with one paw, walk in, and sit on my couch. He's done it several times. And sometimes I'll catch him lounging on my doormat when I come home from work. Sometimes cats are just like little kids. They're just as cute, but don't talk back or ask endless questions.

I think I will give myself the title of "The NON-CAT cat lady."

I even have a large brimmed hat.

J'aime practiquer mon francais. C'est une langue tres belle. Quelquefois, j'aime faire semblant que je suis Jean Seberg, de la film, A bout de souffle. J'ai des cheveux courts, comme elle. Mais, elle est plus jolie avec ses cheveux courts. Et, je n'ai pas une robe fantastique de Dior. Bouf.

Mais, j'aime faire semblant que je suis une etudiant de New York, et j'aide une homme qui a tuer la police, et qui je ne sais pas si j'aime.

Et quand je veux, je marche dans les rues de Paris pour vendre des copies de le Harold Tribune. (Sans une robe de Dior.)

For some reason, I'm really fond of trees.

I was in my car stopped at a stoplight the other day, turned my head to look out my window, and what did I see? A perfect tree in all its beauty. It was just standing there, so perfectly tree-like. Yea, there were some other trees next to it, but they weren't as perfect as this one. If only I could collect trees. I've seen some really nice ones that I've wished I could keep. But I guess their beauty, is not just for me, it's for all to see.


I'm also fond of a good pair of pants.

Couple things to blog about before I leave tonight:

1. DO NOT go see Broken Flowers. Just got back from the movie, and it's not worth it. Even if you think you love Bill Murray.

2. Monday, January 10th, 2005. Upon re-reading this entry I realized that I've done it. I'm no longer Winona Ryder. I can no longer say "I don't know" because I'm doing what I know. Or at least, "going through the necessary steps to get there." Have I put myself in a corner by giving a definite answer? Well, I have. Literally. (No really, I sit in the corner now. :-) Apparently, guys don't get the "nobody puts baby in the corner" line. I tried using that on the boys, and not one of them got the joke, or knew what I was talking about. And suddenly, Emily walks in, I tell her I'm sitting in the corner, and automatically she says, "Nobody puts baby in the corner!" I guess it's a girl thing.) I feel good about my decision so far, but still a little awkward and out of place. I'm sure as with everything, adjusting takes time.

C. I did it. I'm now on myspace, with picture and all. Well...okay ok, so I couldn't actually sit through the entire process of filling out my profile, but at least I've half assed it. Half ass is better than no ass, right? So there.

I didn't mean to offend anyone with the last blog, all I meant to say was that I've succumbed to the idea of an internet community. After this post, I'm going straight to create my Myspace Profile. (And let's face it, I can promote this blog, and my concert coming up. Who knows, I may become the next Myspace whore.)

Okay okay okay.

What is up with this myspace business? I can't rag on it too much because several of you who read this actually log on quite regularly. Yea, you know who you are.

Oh, but if you weren't reading this, the nasty things I would say about myspace. And the whole idea of things like myspace. I was on friendster back when it was still around (is it still around?). I vowed not to join until I got inundated with emails from people wanting me to join as their friend. Now, I don't have many friends mind you, so to be inundated with emails rather intrigued me. Back then I didn't want to join, but still they broke me down.

Even now, I still don't want to join. But I hear it everywhere. Myspace this, myspace that. Sivie is always showing me something on HERspace. Apparently, Ms. Parker blogs on hers. I think I signed up a while ago and forgot about it, and never used it to its full potential. I guess myspace is the place to be.

So, once again, I'm succumbing to the many evils of the internet:

*Junkmail/Spam
*Forwarding emails withing 10 minutes of receiving it if I didn't want to die
*Popup ads
*Friendster.com
*"Register now for your free (fill in the blank)"
*Musical birthday ecards
*The email that screams if you stare at it too long (pure evil...)
*Ticketmaster.com
and finally,
*Myspace.com

See you all on the dark side. May the force be with me.

I can't remember what I came to blog about. It was going to be something good...

In any case, I finally found the nerve to speak up and talk to my favorite oboe guy. Leonid, to be exact. Actually, we never introduced each other, we just talked about whether or not we got our notices in the mail yet from the other orchestra. Neither one of us have. But, I finally got to say what I've been wanting to say to him for the longest time: I love your playing, it always sounds beautiful. It feels good to get that out. I just felt like he had to know. I think he appreciated it.

So I lost my rehearsal space at work. We have this great sound room at work that I've been practicing in, but it recently got rented out, so I'm out of a space. Today I was practicing in my office when suddenly I hear the main door open and shut. I figure, if they want to, they'll come poke their head in to say hello. So I keep practicing. And who of all people pokes their head through the door? None other than THE BIG BOSS. Boy, was I embarrased. Why, you ask? I'm not really sure, but I was just embarrassed. I'm sure the owner of the company wasn't expecting anyone at work, much less, anyone practicing in one of his offices. Oh well. C'est la vie.

Oh yes, I just remembered what I came to blog about: Dreams. Isn't it strange how you can have such strong feelings and emotions in dreams? I can still remember how I felt in a dream from 5 years ago. I was about to die from driving off a freeway on ramp.

It's just so odd to me that our bodies can be lying perfect still in one world, yet our brain can be experiencing all sorts of things in another world. Last night I shot someone in the head and I saw part of their bloody caved-in head. Even now, typing out that sentence, I can still feel this sense of horror and guilt at having shot this person, and knowing that she was going to die. However, last night I also met Save Ferris in person, and in that world, they were supposedly my favorite band of all time (which is weird because I haven't listened to a Save Ferris song in how long??). I was ecstatic to be meeting them.

These are just words: horror, guilt, ecstatic. But what I felt from last night's dream was way beyond what language is capable of describing. How is it possible for us to have these emotions in our dreams if we've never experienced these emotions in real life?

I don't know what it's like to shoot someone, but I sure did last night. How does my brain know how to feel if it's not really happening? Are dreams some sort of loophole in the matrix of things? How do I know that I'm not dreaming right now, and in fact, I really shot someone in real life last night? Or maybe dreams are when we unplug out of the matrix? I've gotta watch that movie again...

I just read this from a fellow blogger and had to share it with the rest of you...

"I came home one day last week and I wanted a cookie. And not just any kind of cookie. A Keebler Fudge Shoppe Grasshopper. For the uninformed, a Grasshopper is a mint cookie dipped in chocolate and 'made with the generous help of Elfin Magic.' And if Grasshopper cookies are any indication of the general benevolence of elves, then I must make it a point to meet more elves: invite elves over for dinner, pay for a classified add that reads, 'SWM seeks elf,' or maybe open up my own elf recreation center. Whatever it takes, I must find a way to bring more elves into my life. Because Grasshoppers are delicious, maybe even the most appetizing thing baked in a tree."

Geez.

Had to endure yet another phone call from my mother who thinks I have no life. (But I had some Al Green on in the background so it wasn't as bad...he was backing me up with his sexiness.) She seems to know more about the online dating scene than I do. So I go to the site and just cringe at the sheer annoyance I get from reading people's bios.

Adrian from SF says he is "financially stable, mentally mature, energetic, cute..." etc etc and blah blah shit.

Everything is relative, isn't it? What's the standard he's comparing himself to? Just because he thinks he's mentally mature doesn't mean I don't think he's mentally retarded just by reading his retarded bio. I mean, good for him that he has enough self esteem to think he's cute, but how does him thinking he's cute sell me on wanting to contact this dood? I'm sure I'm just as retarded by blogging about it, but boy, I hate these online things.

Excuse my slower than usual typing not that you can see me typing but I am currently typing with one hand as the other is holding a popsicle which my mouth is eating. Ok, done.

So the cemetary music is going just swell. I wish regular orchestra could be like summer orchestra! And plus, my favorite oboe guy just showed up this week! He's this small older gent with a cute European accent, and his oboe playing is just some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. He always hits his notes right on, and his sound is just so sweet, listening to it is like drowning in sugar. He is that good.

I've actually been practicing (not as much as I should be, as always) and I'm getting a little better. I always feel really good after rehearsal, like I've accomplished some great feat. In fact, I wish I could be practicing right now, but it's late.

Goodnite blogworld.