What to do??

Ok, i'm posting this to the internet void in hopes that my readers (those who are left) can help me. I have this neighbor, you see. This upstair neighbor. Who...just walks extremely loud. Granted, we all have wood floors. That probably doesn't help much. But still, he walks as though he is 300 pounds. I've never seen him, so maybe he does weigh 300 pounds. But most likely not. Once in a while he drops heavy thing or two or three, and that makes a loud thump. And the thing that annoys me the most...he seems to like to walk over to the part of the floors that creak the most, and enjoy being able to sway back and forth over the creaky floor area.

Ok, no. I'm sure that's not what he's doing, but that's what my imagination is telling my brain. I'm about 70% annoyed, yet 30% curious in what exactly he is doing when I hear these noises. I like to make up things in my head when I don't know the facts.

I've been living with this for months, but haven't exactly been able to get myself to knock on his door. I just can't do it! Help me people! What do i say to this guy? "Hey, stop walking around your apt?" What if he yells at me? What if he retaliates back by walking louder? What if he turns his TV up louder now after midnight? Oy vey. The joy of upstairs neighbors.

Last week, I did something HUGE! I gave blood for the first time ever. I've just always been scared to death of doing it, the needle, the blood (ohhh the blood), the questions...everything. But our building was having a blood drive and I finally decided it was time. And you know what? It was NBD. I was nervous walking in, but by the time I left, I was feeling good, and even got some cookies (and a coupon for a pint of ice cream! Pint for a pint, they call it. Though...apparently 12oz is a pint in California..?). I did feel a bit woozy and tired for the rest of the day, but I think next time I do it, I'll do it towards the end of the day. I didn't cry, I didn't scream, I just looked away and squirmed a little, but here I am, still alive, and probably saved someone's life too. Hooray beer. Hooray ME!

Somehow, watching a movie set in nyc just makes everything better again. Especially when they're about a cute girl realizing she's a lesbian, and then coming out, which is first triggered by kissing her brother's wife on their wedding night.

I should never write movie reviews. "Y'know, the one with that guy from that movie who saves that girl from that show who starred in the movie with her ex-husband's wife." The End.


Today was a crappy day. I can admit it. Crappy crap crap. Nothing in particular or out of the ordinary happened. It was just one of those days. It was beyond one of those days. It was one of those "I need to take a breather and hide in the bathroom for just a sec before I lose it all over ..."nothing." But, it's ok. I've had my dose of nyc, pretty girls in pretty outfits and ballroom dancing, and now, off to bed. Tomorrow is another day.

Upper Dryer Instructions:
1. Make sure there are no small children, pets, or foreign objects in dryer.

Good thing I read instructions...not like those damn kids from jumanji.

Why aren't pretty girls ever happy?

I just passed by this girl on the way out of the laundry room, and smiled at her, tried to be polite and say hello. Beautiful, gorgeous girl, and she just glared. Well ok, she barely looked at me. But she didn't look like she was very happy. And the fact that the likes of me in my laundry gear was even passing by her seemed to piss her off even more. If I looked like I belonged on Dawson's Creek, first of all, I'd be wondering why I wasn't on The Hills instead, but second of all, I'd be happy all the time!

Ok, fine. I'm exaggerating a bit. Her anger probably had nothing to do with me, and I would never want to be on The HIlls. But really, why are all the pretty ones always wearing a scowl with their gucci? Are happy smiley faces soooo last season? Maybe they're not eating enough. If i wasn't eating I'd be angry like them too.

But if I have any power in this world, I'm declaring smiles a thing of the future! It'll be the next IT item. It'll be on every "gotta have it" section in the magazines. By golly, it will be required on every pretty girl in the world!

Oh to play my violin again! All that silent counting in my head. All those flats and sharps. The thrill of playing a measure correctly. Vonnie laughing at my blank stare when everyone else laughed at the conductor's joke. (Tell me you didn't know what he was talking about either vonne, TELL ME!!!) It's all so thrilling. I may even practice before our next rehearsal, that's how pumped I am. I wish I had a button that said "I Heart Orchestra." I wouldn't wear it, but I'd be happy that I have one.


And, WTF is all this with JJ Abram's secret project??? I need to know! I love JJ! Too bad the only time we met, I just happened to be wearing that ugly page uniform. What a waste of a good meet.

Question: What does SH and Al Pacino have in common?

Answer: A love for TARGET.


Possibly? Is it possible that I shop at the same Target as Al Pacino??? Sunday when I was there, I happened to pass by a lady who, with a knowing smirk on her face, ask this very hairy man, "Are you who I think you are?" She said it in a tone as if they were old friends who happened to pass by each other at the grocery store. So upon hearing this, I quickly turned around to see who she was talking to. The man smiled a guilty smile, but didn't say much. At least I don't think so, or couldn't hear it. So I went about my line, looking back every now and then wondering, is it him? Is it him? I think it was.

You'd think Al would have assistants. But it was a Sunday so maybe the assistant had the day off. OR! Maybe Al just runs his own errands? After all, he is human, and humans shop at Target. Not knowing very much about him, he SEEMS like the low maintenance type....the type to run their own errands. But, I can also see him having someone do his errands for him, to avoid crowd commotions and whatnot. I mean, can you imagine? If one day at the bank the man in front of you who turns around to borrow your pen turns out to be Al Pacino? Boy, that'd be awesome.

So, who knows. Who knows if it was really him. It could've been a look alike who loves that type of attention so he dresses more like Al, and lets his hair and facial hair grow out like Al. Or, maybe it was really AL. I guess we'll never know.



Hair update: 5 inches!!! Halfway there!! Ok, maybe 4 if I want to avoid a boy-bob. But...there is progress.

So, after dropping Fern off after a great night of salsa, I passed by the Burbank Kwik E Mart to see if i can get a peek. After all, it was 1:30 in the morning, and who would be there right? WRONG. So wrong. There was a line out the door and around the corner! To get into the Kwik E Mart! Geesh. I guess everyone had the same idea I did. It's too late to have any duff beer right now anyways.

And...I feel silly for saying this.........................but I kinda want to go to the Justin Timberlake concert. Is that wrong?

The gym is what happens when you breakup with the chiropractor. Breakups really shouldn't be this hard.

So I very very very recently joined a gym. Today, I decided to go for the first time, and took a class. Boy, was it an hour of comedy. Forget Everyone Loves Raymod. A full hour of watching me in this class would've been enough laughs for 2 full episodes of that show. But..at least I can admit that right? I feel like i get myself in these situations A LOT. Situations where I'm not completely comfortable, look incredibly dorky while being uncomfortable, and feel like I'm 30 years older than my real age, while standing next to a blonde bubbly younger Tiffany with very...incredibly pliable legs. Ugh. Seriously. Maybe her name was Jane, who knows, but she was very blonde, (the cute curly kind...OF COURSE!) and was doing very well in class. How is it that these girls can keep their hair down when they know they're going to be working up a sweat!
At least I was moving...(so I keep telling myself).

AND! Only in the Wood can men look 50 times better doing what I can barely do. We had to break off into men and women groups, and OMG, all the guys were so incredible. Will I take this class again? Most likely. But I think I need to work up to it first. Though, I don't think I can ever get up to the level of these boys. Neh-vahhh...

AND! Walking through the gym was like a treasure trove of blogs. Every corner I turned, every man or woman that walked by me, was a blog waiting to be written. So, yes, I was a little bit (ok, ALOT bit) intimidated today in the gym. But I'll make this blog my motivator. If ever I'm low on blogs, I'll tell myself that posts upon posts are waiting for me at the gym, and that I MUST go to the gym, no excuses, as I cannot let down my readers. Yes. That's it! Bada bing!

Food and I have not been on friendly terms lately. For some reason, I get this odd feeling that food wants to....wants to kill me? I can't imagine food doing such a thing, as we have been lifetime buddies. It's been with me through the good times, and the bad. And when bad times do roll, with food around, its really not that bad! But in the past 2 or 3 weeks, we've had a falling out, and I can't imagine what I did to make food angry with me. It makes me very sad. I miss food. I miss lots of food. I hope we kiss and make up soon. Hopefully over a good hearty meal.

As for being tagged, well, I feel as though I've been tagged before. In fact, I know I have. In fact fact, I don't even think i fulfilled my last tag...as I couldn't think of a last thing. But I think this one is a bit different, so once again, here they are, 8 things you don't know about me (and hopefully they're not repeats of the last tag!):

1. I've never broken a bone. Knock on wood. I just did.
2. I think carrots are evil. You laugh, but they are.
3. I'm afraid of butterflies. (But i think everyone knows that by now.)
4. I can sing the greek alphabet fowards, and say the latin alphabet backwards, up to M, and then it kinda slows down to a halt.
5. I mistakenly put a North Carolina quarter in the South Carolina hole on my quarter map, and now I can't get it out.
6. I wouldn't be able to tell you where all 50 states are if given a blank map. (...thus my quarter map)
7. Ok, I just lied, I have a quarter map because I just like to collect those nifty state quarters. I STILL wouldn't be able to tell you where the states are.
8. I once went to a John Tesh concert, and then shook his hand.

The End.

Tagging....(gosh, who still reads this blog?)
Miss Parker? The Warrens? Pen and M? E? Jenn? Missy? (oh missy, you're such a tease.)

The Lake House is actually a pretty good movie. I know I made fun of it in a previous post, and I even thought about that as I watched it. Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm not saying you're great, but I'm saying you were, hey, not bad. Things didn't quite make sense, but hey, I went along with the whole thing, and it was actually pretty good.

Summer is here, where did the time go?

Missy...!!! You don't even know how happy i am to hear from you! And then to read a new post! Holy cow, that was a real treat. Its funny, because I've been thinking about you lately, and what you're up to and how you're doing. You know the poster you got for me in spain? The old moulin rouge one with the couple dancing? I got a frame for it at ikea a while ago, and it fit perfectly. (I guess they have standards for these things, but i'm always amazed when things fit perfectly.) It's in my room and I see it every day. And i always think, what a perfect poster missy got me. It is so me. I love it SO MUCH.

Get this: At my last apartment i was in for 2 years, that was the only thing i hung on the wall. So much wall space...just one framed poster. And now, in my new apartment...hm...ok, so I have 1 other thing up in the living room, my painting from college, and your poster sitting in its perfect ikea frame sitting on my dresser in my bedroom. I actually just finished decorating my bedroom this weekend. It was my mission to decorate this time around, and so far I've only been able to complete the bedroom. A friend came over before I decided to decorate, and apparently, he said I lack a woman's touch. I know! Whack, right? Right. But really, I'm like a man when it comes to decorating. Which means, not at all. Actually that's not true. I think most guys can decorate better than I can.

So congratulations on your adulthood. I hope to be joining you sometime...in the near future? Eh...just the future.

I'm glad to see you're back on the blog wagon. And for those of you who thought I have fallen off...I know i keep saying i'll come back, but dang, they sure make it hard! Everytime i try to sign on i have to reset my password. What a pain. But whatevs. I can't use that as an excuse forever now can I? INBD.

Miss, my email's still the same...holla back.

Utter disgust and horror.

So from time to time, I've been giving my readers an update on my boy Milo. In recent days, I was abhorred to find that he is now the male lead in Fergie's latest music video. After I finished retching in my mouth, I tried to compose myself enough to finish watching the rest of the video. They're on the bed making out, nearly naked. Really Milo, really? He's got ugly tats all over himself. Necessary Milo? Really? The lyrics to the song is horrible. What were you thinking Milo, and who is your agent? Cuz Imma gone kick his ass. "And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket"? Seriously Milo? More like, I'm gonna miss you like I miss you in Gilmore Girls. Or, I'm gonna miss you like I miss Beverly Hills 90210, the highschool years.

And ok, somebody's gotta tell him, the bad boy image is getting OLD. Really, isn't it the goal of an actor to get as many diverse roles as possible? Wouldn't that make one TRULY a great actor, being able to chameleon yourself into different personae? Rather than always playing the same old boy with teen angst. Really milo, you're not a teenager anymore...

If you're reading this Milo, I still love you. I just wish you would make better choices. Heroes? That was a great move (though i've yet to see you on that show, i hope when the dvds come out you don't disappoint me like you did in this video). Gilmore Girls? That was a good stepping stone for you. A music video with FERGIE? Nuh-uh. Back up. Back waaaaaay up, and re-evaluate.

I've cringed so many times watching this video that I'm devloping premature wrinkles. You know how many times I deal with this video a day at work? Ugh, you don't want to know.

I hope you read this. You can do so much better. I know you can. Do it for me.

Thanks.

I don't know where i've been lately. Out in la-la land I suppose. And since i now live in la-la land, it makes sense, no? I can't really say i've gone on hiatus to do some deep soul searching, or self help, though there have been some of that in the past months. I guess i'll just say i left on hiatus, and leave it at that.

Only a few weeks left before the Sound of Music sing along! Going with the fam this year, and i just can't wait. The last time i went, it was such a magical experience that i thought i'd take the fam this time. For those of you who haven't been, its fantastic, and I highly recommend it. If you love the movie Sound of Music, if you love singing outloud in the shower, car, or public, if you love talking to movies as though the characters can actually hear you if you yell at them enough, if you love the whole experience of Rocky Horror Picture Show, then you will love this. That's my 30 second ad. Go to hollywoodbowl.com to learn more.

Friends. I miss my friends that moved away. It's good to hear they're doing well though. Today I read this:
"When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absense, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain."

So true...so true. But then again, the reasons I loved them was clear before they even moved away...so what of that? Who knows.


On to more significant matters: my hair.

ha.

my hair, oh my hair. I don't know if it will last to 10+ inches. But it must! But it won't. But it must! Oh, i'm torn. I need motivation. Like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Something that will stop me from randomly cutting it on a hot summers day in august, like a drunk dialing his ex at 3am in the morning...because inevitably, I will wake up with regret's nasty morning breath in my face. sigh. 3 inches down...7 more to go. Ok, who am i kidding, its really only at 2 right now. Damn. Damn that lady who even repeated my request: "just a trim, right?" A trim my ass. I could be on my way to 6 right now...instead i'm back at 8. 8 more to go. LE SIGH.

Tuesday night- note to self: I will not be Prufrock. I will be better than HE.

So it's true what they say about asparagus and pee.

Ok ok ok.

I know I've been absent. If this blog was my job I'd be very unemployed by now. But professors can take a hiatus, so why can't I, right? Granted, I'm not off vacationing in the tropics or writing an important paper that would change lives...I've just been busy. With stuff.

Between being sick alot, moving to the city, going to Vegas, taxes, rock and rolling with the band, car troubles, birthdays, and of course, work, I haven't had much time or energy to stop and write it all down. Hopefully I'll be able to get back into the swing of things very soon.

Stay tuned though, for the next post: Life after Burbank; A tale of the big city.

Fantasy #24

Magritte and I are great friends. How we became friends in the first place is a bit unclear to both of us, since we are of completely different social circles. Him being an artist would never think twice to hang out with the likes of me. But he finds in me: a connection, an understanding of his ideas. I find in him: pure brillance. Thus, our friendship.

We are in Paris, sipping on our caffés. He normally doesn't like to come to Paris, he finds the city too bougie. But at my insistence, he agrees. He rings me at my flat which overlooks the city, and wonders to himself how I could ever live in such a city. He shakes his head in pity.

As we sit and sip, he tells me about his latest painting. I tell him he's used the umbrella too many times, though the apple looked delicious enough to eat. He smiles, taking in my criticism, and I smile in return, knowing he will do what he wants. We spend the next hour discussing different possibilities on the perfect title for another painting. I tell him about the latest song I am writing, and he gives me suggestions for lyrics. All the while, a gentle breeze blows across a perfect spring afternoon. Before we know it, the day is over, and it is time for us to part, with promises of meeting up again real soon.

The End.

Tonight I said goodbye to a dear dear friend of mine that is moving away. He is moving up first to start a new job while she stays and looks for a job, sell their home, etc. So there was no finality. No grand goodbyes. He'll be back soon to move them both up, a party will be had, and so on and so forth. It's not really the end End. Unless we keep telling each other that to make ourselves feel better...

So we went and had dinner, went back to their place, then I said goodbye as I do everytime I'm at their home, and when I left, it almost felt like a typical night out with them. Until a few steps later, when it hit me again, and tears welled up as I quickly walked to my car. Sure I'll see him again. And she'll still be here for a while. And they won't be TOO far away. But I just know it won't be the same. My dear friends, my married couple of fun, strength, love and friendship, will soon be gone, and our relationship - though it will still be there, won't be the same. I guess proximity does really bring people together. These are the changes I don't look forward to. 3 Extra weeks of daylight savings time? Yes. Good friends moving away? No.

I want to be a LION, but most times I am a mouse. And I don't even like cheese. I want to be strong, ferocious, fearless, QUEEN of the jungle....instead, I fret and eat my pointless cheese. Today I realized I fret too much. Ok, that's a lie. I KNOW I fret too much. I've known. I'm what they call a worrywart, whoever they are. I hate them.

Today I almost signed myself up for a year of who knows what. I was <-> that close to putting money down for an apt. But at the last minute...more like half hour ago, I backed out. It just didn't feel right, as much as I wanted it. I went back and forth all day about whether my hesitation was due to fear of change. Though it makes me uncomfortable, I am welcoming change right now, I'm open to being open. So if it wasn't that stopping me, and since I couldn't quite point my finger on what was, I opted out. The whole day I fretted back and forth. Yes or no. No then yes. Yes and no. Now I feel better. Plus, it was as if my yahoo horoscope knew what I was going through! It said not to rush into a decision today. Of all days I could've gotten that message. But it was delivered today. What would I do without yahoo horoscopes to tell me how to live my life??

Changes are coming. People moving hither and thither. The weather. The daylight. Lots more to come, I feel it.

Hello Friends!

No, I have not disappeared. I've just been tag teaming 2 jobs for the last week or so. But I'm back. Slowly but surely.

So I'm not an Oprah fan. I know shes done great things, and has come really far, and is a powerful woman and so on and so forth. Everyone knows that. I just never knew why people in her audiences...all these middle aged women, LOVE her SO MUCH. She's not really funny. Not that she's NOT funny, she's just not particularly funny, like say, an Ellen Degenerous. She's seems really into herself..she's always checking to see how she looks in the monitors. She cuts off her guests...sometimes kind of rudely. And she made her live studio audience (and anyone who tuned in to this particular episode - of which I am particularly guilty of) endure a 20 min segment on her getting her ears pierced. Now just having gotten my ears pierced for the first time myself recently, I know it can be pretty exciting. But dozens of millions of women have gotten their ears pierced, its nothing new. It's not like she was building the Atom bomb or baking a secret recipe chocolate cake from scratch. NO, she was just having her ears pierced. Big whoop.

Anyways, I"m getting off track. Like I said. I'm no Oprah fan. But tonight I caught her one hour prime time special on that all girls school she built in Africa, and suddenly, I have this new found respect for her. Sure, the special was a bit self promoting. But if one woman who builds a school in a third world country that helps hundreds of little girls in said country wants to promote herself and how great she is, ON TOP OF what an awesome thing she did for those girls, then go ahead, Oprah. Be my guest!

I'm sure there's lots of negative controversy surrounding this school that I don't know about, and I still have to think more about what the repercussions and consequences- good or bad- are, but on the surface, it seems like an awesome thing that she did. And she genuinely (and genuine is the keyword here, often times I really don't find her to be genuine) sounds like building this school has been an incredible dream come true for her. I mean, wouldn't it be for anyone? To have that much power to change so many lives, for the better? One can only dream to have such a dream.

I was on the verge of tears watching this special. These girls have gone through so much, and here I am, living in LA, working in entertainment, complaining about my commute. I'm so lucky I have it so good. And I really do try not to forget that.

Sometimes I wonder if I should move away somewhere and help little children, or the very poor. But in reality, I wouldn't be able to hack it. I'm too spoiled in my life with running water and flushing toilets.

But enough complaining. I know what I've done and what I have yet to do to further myself, my neighbors, my planet. Are you able to say the same for yourself?

V day is almost upon us, and I simply refuse to even acknowledge its existence, other than in the form of 2 v-day cupcakes that the lady at starbucks forced me to pre-order by smiling politely and telling me that both flavors are yummy. But i figure, pretty cupcakes are sustenance for the body, and I simply can't get through the non existent holiday without sustenance, thus, picking up these vday related cupcakes do not in any way reflect my acknowledgement of the day, I simply need it for survival purposes.

Now that we've gotten that straightened out...

Ok ok, i realize my readers don't like it when i make large generalizations when they clearly know i'm implying a specific story that I'd rather not share. But you have to understand...sometimes i simply cannot share. "Then don't blog about it!" you say? But but...blogging is my one way of venting to the internet void, so please let me have just that, and for a few posts every couple weeks or so, just live in ambiguity whilst you read my blog? Pretty please? Only after I vent can I then get on with more random and pointless stories, as so many people tell me my stories are.

So now, a story for you, in the form of a letter to the culprit who left me very disgruntled this weekend:

Hey JERK!!!

To the bastard who stole my wallet out of my purse saturday night, have you no decency? You could've easily taken just the cash, bought yourself a nice drink and some smokes, but no, you had to take everything out of the wallet. I hope this hangs in your conscious for the rest of your life, but seeing how you could even go into a girl's purse in the first place and steal her wallet just shows that maybe you have no conscious at all. If you're reading this, congratulations for even knowing how to use the computer, next time use your head and think about what you're doing. Yea, I'm also stupid for leaving my stuff unattended, so thanks but no thanks for teaching me a lesson. But still, that was a shitty thing to do to someone who was just looking to have a good time, SAME REASON why you were there that night. I hope you're reading this because I have one word for you: KARMA.

Randomness

My oh my. My readers are getting testy...that is troubling. Do you want that I put a cork in it? Or do want that I offer my readers some metaphorical dope? Please be less vague next time, I am at a loss for how to proceed. And what's with all the commentators with no real names?

In any case, I feel like I haven't mentioned my boy Milo in a while. Just because I don't talk about him doesn't mean I don't think about him. Yes, yes, I realize he's on a hit show now. A hit show that I have not been able to catch...perhaps in DVD form somewhere down the line. But I am so very happy for him. It must get frustrating for him to be on show after cancelled show, so I'm glad he's found a permanent home now. At least for a few seasons more right? Keep up the good work Milo V.

I went to catch a show in silverlake on Tuesday night and realized that, if ever I decide to move there, I'd need to have lots of hair to fit in. More than I have now. I mean lots. In the form of a full on beard. Like the kind that connects to my Dylan McKay sideburns. Or I'd need to be half my size and wear skinny jeans all the time. That seems like too much work, so I'm gonna have to go with the full on beard- I wouldn't have to do anything to it except let it be. Hipsters are always trying to be cool by being anti-cool, so if I'm anti-hipsters, does that make me anti-anti-cool, therefore, making me cool by being myself? Awesome. Actually, I love you hipsters, I really do. I'm just jealous I can't look like you.

Speaking of skinny jeans...who the heck came up with them? Don't they know that only a certain type of girl (and boy) can wear them, thereby leaving out the other 90% that can't? Really now. This is something that John Stossel would be outraged about. At least, he should be. For the sake of us, the 90%.

In conclusion, NPR and PBS are in trouble. You can do your share and save them HERE.

Thank yee kindlee.

Despite my very best efforts to be the smart, sophisticated, modern, PC, cosmopolitan girl of the 21st century, I still fall short sometimes. Everyone does, I'm sure. But I don't want to be like everyone. Most of the time I know better NOT to do something, but I do it anyways, thinking that it won't affect me, but it usually does. Why do we go against our better judgement? Because it's enticing, that's why. Oh...the joys of being human, and not a robot.

I bet if I was a robot, I'd do a killer lock n' pop. Being merely human, I won't even attempt it.

Thanksgiving

Tonight I am feeling extremely thankful for everything I have in my life. Yes, we should all be thankful everyday, yes yes. But we're not. Sometimes I complain about this. Other times I bitch about that. Sometimes I'm jealous that people have what I want. Other times I'm filled with an overwhelming need to just...want.

Tonight I ask for nothing.

Tonight I went over to the drugstore to buy soap. I was thankful to have money to buy the soap. And a big drugstore to buy the soap. A drugstore!! With enough drugs to keep a whole town painfree. And then I drove home. In a car!! In a vehicle that actually takes me places, and takes my friends places. A vehicle that gives me freedom. And then I came home to my apt...a roof over my head. A head which, is full of hair! I should be so lucky to have so much hair, while people are losing handfuls of it by the minute, whether it be cancer patients, balding men, or even balding women! I have gas to cook food and keep me warm, a fridge full of food. A TV! A computer!! I have a computer to blog with. I have a full time job to wake up for. With people that I like. People that I look forward to seeing. I work with music videos all day for crying out loud. How many people get to do that??? I have my family, my dear dear friends, and my health. (ok that last one is a bit shaky, but for the most part it's there) I'm thankful to be of normal height, to have a functional brain (though some may argue otherwise, but for the most part, its functional), to have all my extremeties available to me. I'm lucky that this week, I have no annoying little papercuts on my hands. I mean really, I can go on and on.

Tonight, I am overcome with a sense of gratitude and appreciation. Most people know who to ultimately thank in situations like these. But alas, I am not tight with God, or God Jr. Allah does not come over for tea. The last time Buddha and I had a heart to heart was probably in my past life, if I had one. For me, I do not know who is responsible for my great fortune, except possibly myself. But all this seems to be bigger than I, and way beyond me and my magical powers. So I will send it out to the great internet void who, with all its spam and viral video capabilities, will surely find whoever or whatever is responsible, and let them know that I'm grateful, I'm thankful, I'm appreciative, for everything I have tonight.

Am running out of DVDs to watch while I camp on the couch.

Interesting fact: did you guys know that Dr. Callie Torres, before working at the Seattle Grace Hospital, was actually THE grocery checker Rose "what-a-beautiful-name-Rose" in you've got mail? It's always nice to see people move their way up. I mean really, from the grocery checker to surgeon? That is quite the jump.

I've always thought I had a good solid DVD collection. I only stock it up with movies I know I will watch over and over, in case of rainy days, sick days, or an emergency broadcast system type of lock-yourself-in-your-house days. And of course, the collection has its share of chick flicks, which I always thought were solid well made chick flicks until I recently re-watched some of them.

Take The Wedding Singer, for instance. Instantly, you think: classic, right? It's got the funny, it's got the silly, it's got the romance, its got the Billy Idol, a rapping granny with meatballs...what more can you ask for? But after watching it again recently, I think I fell out of love with it. This last time, it struck me that Drew Barrymore's character must have been written by a man. And you know what? I just imdb'd it, and surprise surprise, I'm right. I'll save you some time, and not get into my "closet feminist" tirade, but just watch the movie, you'll know what I mean.

And then there's You've Got Mail, my absolute favorite chick flick of all. I still think its wonderfully written and executed and all that, but the ending always leaves me a little perturbed. So Kathleen Kelly finally realizes that the man she's been exchanging emails with is actually her business nemesis turned friend turned possible love connection Joe Fox. And what does she say in this moment of realization? "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." Which, yknow, is kinda sweet in the moment since we know that her relationship has blossomed with Joe Fox. But seriously, does she not see that he's been manipulating her throughout their whole relationship? He pretty much tricked her into liking him.

Someday I'd like to see the "After Ending," the story that doesn't get told as the credits roll. If I ever run into Nora Ephron, which I hope I will someday, I will have to grill her about this ending.

Until then, the balcony is closed.

Yesterday I decided to have some hot water and honey, and as soon as I had my first sip, I was reminded of New Jersey. Other things that remind me of new jersey? Raisin bran, and cheesy doritos. Funny thing how these memories work.

Yesterday I sneezed in the morning and I swear, it felt like a bomb went off in my head. I had to take several seconds to gather myself and my composure. I vowed then never to sneeze again.

8 hours later, I forgot my vow, and sneezed again. Another bomb off in my head, and another few seconds to regroup, plus another few more seconds to reprimand myself for breaking the vow.

Sneezing is the worst when you're trying to drive. Do you realize that you always sneeze with your eyes closed? And now that I've said that, you're going to try to sneeze with your eye open, just to prove me wrong. Well don't, they'll pop out. Just take my word for it. Whenever I sneeze in the car I feel like I'm going to get in an accident. For that few seconds I am in the dark...unable to see the baby in the street, or the car merging into my lane, or that sudden red light. Imagine if everyone in their cars sneezed at the same time. There would be pure chaos. Pandemonium. Someone should make that into a movie...

I'm not a smoker, so I'm not the most knowledgeable about these sorts of things, but,

I was just at the gas station, behind a guy who bought 6 packs of cigarettes from the attendant, stacked them up, and then went on his merry way. And while I was watching him stack the packs, it suddenly dawned on me: why would they sell such thing as cigarettes at a place loaded with fuel where anyone can just light up and possibly blow themselves - as well as others -up into little bitty pieces? Grocery stores, yes. 7-11s, yes. But gas stations?? I guess its not like anyone would light up at the gas station, but still, it boggles my mind.

So while people are quickly going down one at a time around me in this sick season, I thought I was untouchable, with some sort of super immunity system. I wash my hands, I take the nasty zinc pills, I remain in a positive mental state of non-sickness.
Well, turns out that I'm just slow...as with everything else. Joke's on me - haha.

Ok.

I just realized something: I've lost my inner dialogue.

No. I mean, its still there. I hear it all the time. I just lost the ability to blog my inner dialogue, and I think i know what happened. I used to blog alot more when I was living sex and the city (as in, living vicariously through dvds). I'd picture myself as carrie bradshaw, posing big questions, wondering why people do this or that, narrating my own life, my friends lives, the lives of people next to me in line at the grocery store. I didn't have a snazzy laptop like she did, but I had my thoughts, and I'd blog inside my head all the time, and thus the plentiful posts.

So what happened, you ask?

An American Girl In Paris, that's what. Big season 6 finale, mr big vs petrovsky, and of course, of course, Paris. And then that was it! The girls were just like that, *poof* gone from my life. Suddenly, my inner thoughts to myself transferred into words and sentences and paragraphs into this box with wires and googles and mice suddenly seemed completely ridiculous. It's because I didn't have carrie's inner dialogue anymore alongside mine, to justify my own inner dialogue so i don't seem all THAT crazy. And slowly, slowly, i stopped watching TV.

And I know what you're thinking. The fact that I'm even bringing up sex and the city is really ALL THAT CRAZY. But can it be? This crazy invention that we call television has become my muse?

No, it can't be. Because the things I blogged about were still drawn from life experiences, it wasn't all TV related.

So what really happened?

I don't know. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out. But for now, this is what I've got.

Knuckles: cracked.
Body: ergonomically seated.
Fingers: on keyboard...typing this word...now this word.

Saddam is dead. Now I am not one to be politically savvy about such things, but this is a big deal. In my head I know it's a big deal, but I don't quite have the capacity to discuss how or why without sounding totally politically ignorant. To kill one who has killed others...that's such a big topic that I don't even know where to start.

So the new year is merely days away. I keep having an urge for something new. Usually new clothes solves this itch. You put on some new threads, you feel like a new person, right? Well, not this year. I'm impatient this year. I want new clothes so I go to the mall. I walk into a store, do a quick 360, and I'm out in less than 5 minutes, with nothing in my hands. So maybe some makeup? Again, as soon as I'm inside I want to be outside. Went in for a trim on ye olde hair thinking a trim will be refreshing, instead I walked out defeated, trying to hold my botched hair and the too-short bangs up high. It'll grow out. I start doing some (very) minimal exercises, thinking I can get a jump start on the resolutions thing. Two days into it, I'm sick and my body aches, and those minimal exercises are already out the door. Seems as though my attempts at new-ness for the new year have all been thwarted.

At least in the new year, my commute won't be as bad. We've moved, and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to Larry or Bennie.

In any case, I'm hoping the new year will bring new adventures. I feel as though I've had my share this year, have accomplished alot, but I really want to out do what I did this year. I mean, don't we all?

And hopefully in the new year I'll write better blogs.

Happy First Day of Winter....


Um...I guess. I can't believe its only the first day, I feel like I've been freezing my ass off for the past month, and its only the first freakin day of winter? Good grief. I don't know how I'll survive.

Um.

That's all I've got.

Yup.

This past Saturday as I ate a late lunch, I decided to see what was on the tele. Knowing it was a Saturday afternoon, I was predicting either golf or some sort of Battlestar Galactica show or probably both simultaneously on multiple channels...maybe? Well, I was right. But then I came across something spectacular!!

Soooooooooooooouuuuuuuuullllllllll Trrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiinnnnnnnn

Now, knowing how much we despise the horrid horrid memories of this show as former pages, something caught my attention that made me watch. Actually, I changed the channel, then returned...semi intrigued. Don Cornelius was actually hosting the show, and he looked much younger. Turns out this was a "Best of ST" episode from 1971!! It was so awesome I couldn't believe it. Barry White was a performer, and all the dancers were crowded around him and his piano, while Don took questions. Then after the questions, Barry sang. And boy, Barry was even sexier back then! Well, his voice was...not so much the slick hair....not so much.

So the dancers danced while he sang, they danced while other groups sang, and then they danced to the old ST theme song. And I was watching them dance and just noticed how much fun they looked like they were having. They were dancing mostly coupled up, several guys had the plaid bell bottoms, almost everyone had an afro whether they were black or white, boy or girl. The women had clothing that looked stylish, yet respectable. Everyone was just having fun and dancing to the music.

There was none of that slutty girl ass or breast zoom in zoom out dissolve to hoochie mama tight spandex high heeled movements. That's the thing, the girls on the show don't dance anymore, they just move about and feel themselves up and down as the cameras go by. On this episode, no one looked like they belong in porn, no one looked directly at me through the camera as though they were about to do me. Everyone was just dancing and having a good time. It was CLEARLY about the music. And that's probably what made the show so popular to begin with. I can see how it has lasted so long. But the way the show has turned...I don't know...it just makes me sad. And it makes me want to live in the 70s, with those cool hep kats and their big hair. Too bad my hair is so straight.

I want to go back to a time when it really was about peace, love, and sooooooouuuuuuulllll. That is hard to find these days. I think I would've enjoyed it.

6 Weird Things About Me...

...that you may or may not already know.

1. I think my left leg is longer than my right leg because I have a tendency to veer towards the right when I walk so that I always eventually bump into whoever is on my right side leaving them to think I'm trying to get closer to them, when in fact, I'm just veering.

2. I'm deathly afraid of butterflies. I had a dream once where one landed on my hand and left some white poisonous powder on my hand so that meant that I was going to die. I think they're evil in disguise.

3. You know in About a Boy (book or movie, doesn't matter), the boy hums outloud without knowing it? I was relieved to read about this, because I involuntarily do the same, usually after stressful or embarrassing situations, thus making the situation more embarrassing and stressing me out even more.

4. Action movies really stress me out to the point where I really don't care to watch them anymore because they blow up so many buildings and cars and all I can think about is, "Now who is going to clean up that mess?" and we have just added a ton of unnecessary garbage to our world. The same stress comes from going to Costco, supermarkets, anything in mass quantities. If you multiply an average of two grocery stores within a one mile radius by millions of miles around the world by millions of yogurt cups manufactured....oy, just thinking about it stresses me out.

5. I can sleep for 2 hours (or more) with my head underneath a heavy comforter. I don't know where I get the oxygen to breathe. Maybe I just don't. That would explain alot.

6. This will be a To Be Continued, because I can't think of another one.

And now, I tag Mel, Jyvonne, Sara, Ephraim, and Jen to do the same.

This weird thing has been happening to me alot lately. It's pretty embarrassing, so I'll refrain from saying what it is. But its been happening alot. The first few times I've shrugged it off, but then it happened again today. And it happened in such an odd way that I just felt like something was up. As if I'm a part of some conspiracy theory or some hidden camera show. Except, in hidden camera shows, the joke usually takes place within a few minutes, not a few weeks, like it has for me. Unless Ashton Kutcher is working on his comeback and has picked me to be his lucky victim. But that is as possible as [insert something impossible here].

And then it hit me: the universe is trying to tell me something. But the universe is sneaky. It doesn't tell me directly, it tells me in encrypted messages like these odd occurences lately. I just wish I knew what it was trying to tell me. On one hand, I hear loud and clear what the universe "seems" to be telling me, but on the other hand, I just feel like there's gotta be more to it. So until I can encrypt this message, I'll be on the lookout, and proceeding with caution.

Today I felt an urge. An overwhelming urge. The urge to DO. PLAY. MAKE. CREATE. LOVE. exercise? Yes, even the urge to get off my butt. I don't know where it came from. Probably from being stagnant for so long. Stagnant at work, in traffic, in my mind, body and soul. I don't think it matters. I just know that the urge is there, and I have to do something about it.

It's time for new beginnings.

And how convenient that I have to switch to a new version of blogger at such a time. It helps me get started.

Even just sitting here typing this right now, I have this overwhelming urge to jump out of the chair. Not just get up, but literally jump out of my chair and go do something life changing. But alas, it is midnight, and I'm still waiting for the washer to finish up its cycle. I know, excuses, excuses. Excuses kill the flow of energy. But at least I'm blogging. Even to the most minute extent, that's doing. Right?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm being sucked into LA. If I've become superficial and fake, and everything else I dreaded about living in LA before I moved here. Ok, so technically I live in The Valley, but I'm surrounded by LA all the time. There's been so many times when I'll be having a meal by myself, and can hear the people at a close by table talking about this audition or that script, or directing this and editing that. It's unavoidable, I know, but sometimes I feel sufficated by it. I'm using terms like "the industry" and name dropping the celebrities i see at the grocery store, and buying expensive burgers that still don't taste quite as good as the less than $5 deal at In N Out. I read the trades as homework, I feel guilty for not watching more TV than I do now as "research", and I was really truly sincerely happy when Paris and Nicole made up.

I can't tell if I wasn't working in this industry, whether I'd react to celebrities and LA in this way, or if it's because I really care about these things that I ended up in LA. I guess we'll never know.

All I can say for sure is this: At least my breasts and lips are real. Even my haircolor, along with that one strand of white sticking out that I just can't get rid of is real. But for how long?

Today was not the greatest day that I've ever known, but it wasn't so bad either.

Today I was honked at constantly in the parking lot by the impatient car behind me and I had visions of putting my car in reverse and stepping on the gas.

Today I bought a too expensive burger with curly fries, then was determined to finish it.

Today, while eating said burger, we realized Don Cheadle was eating lunch next to us. He is a beautiful man, even in person.

Today, I regretted eating the expensive burger too late into the process. I am still nauseous from meat overdose.

Today is one more day closer to 4 days off, but also 2 days of no income.

Today, the security guard paid me an unexpected compliment, to which I said thank you.

Today I learned of awful news from a dear friend, which is still on my mind.

Today I am channeling my energies into a new experiment that may very likely fail than not.

Today I am contemplating going to bed early, though there is still much work to do and 4 episodes of LOST to be watched.

Tomorrow is another today.

Tonight I have nothing to blog about.

Nothing eventful other than having lunch with Bennie Affleck.

And...zoom in, cue the Dun Dun Duns!!

(Dramatic pause)

Ok. Alright. So we didn't exactly carry on a conversation with each other during lunch. Let's just say he sat at his table, and I and coworker at ours, 10 ft apart, my face blocked from his line of vision by his back and some thick shrubs. But still. We were all in the same vicinity, and we were all having lunch.

In all reality, this was not as exciting as I'm making it out to be. Me and said co-worker didn't even know he was at the other table until 3rd co-worker pointed it out to us. And even after that, we were more intrigued by the two fatty but extremely cute boxer dogs who decided to waddle over to us (seriously, they waddled), and then peed right next to us. Really, fat dogs that can barely walk are fascinating. I could've watched them for hours and hours.

Once in a while, I think my brain short circuits for a brief second, like just now when I got a little dizzy, and then, snap, it's gone, and I'm back in action. It's as if I'm a machine or something.

Today, I finally ran into Larry D. Well, I technically wasn't running, and we didn't physically bump into each other. Ok, so we only walked by each other. I flashed him an "ooooh pick me pick me as a guest star to be in the next episode" smile, but apparently he didn't pick up on it, and just kept right on walking. Sigh. Next time, I'll break out the "I just want to be an extra" smile. Maybe "aloof" is key?

The show last night at the Knitting Factory was great, in case you were wondering. I bought a pickup mic last week from a guy on craigslist (I heart you craig and ken), and it worked just as planned, with minor setbacks, but who's counting. People enjoyed the show, and I played/sang my heart out, while on my tippy toes.

I've realized that it's not about the product, its really about the process of making the product. At least for me. And you can say the two are the same, ie, the product IS the process, but I think they're just very closely related. Sure it was great having familiar faces in the crowd acknowledge your presence on stage, hearing people clap at the end of every song in approval. All that is truly appreciated. But it's not the core of the high. The high comes from making the music, as cheeseball as it sounds...pass me the crackers, please! On a very very minute level, it comes from hearing the different frequencies of the invisible audio waves from each instrument and voice interact with one another to create harmonies, and melodies, and at times out of tune dissonance, but eventually finding its way back to harmonies that resonate together again... Yea yea, a bunch of hippie mumbo jumbo I guess. But to me, and I'm sure to alot of people, that's really what it is.

But it's also so much more than what I can put into words right now. For now I'll just say that we rocked loud, we rocked hard, we rocked.

Finally. It seems as though the heated days of summer that somehow escaped its way out of September has been caught and put back in its rightful place. Real LA Fall seems to be upon us, though with LA weather, you can never tell whether those heated days will make another escape perhaps say, the day before Christmas, to bestow us with yet another perfectly warm LA Christmas.

I've been visited lately by Melancholy, which usually brings along connotations of negativity and sadness, though I often believe there is room in that big suitcase for optimism and well being. Though listening to wonderfully depressing music, even turned up loudly, doesn't contribute much to making the guest want to leave. I have gotten used to these visits, as like with all things, I know it will come and go, so instead embrace it like the rays of the sun through my car windshield on the 405: unwanted, but also unstoppable. On late nights I offer to make margaritas for us, which Mel usually refuses, because I have no ice, and because I have no margarita mix. So then we just BE.

So after a period of dry spells, I've suddenly become inundated with celebrity sightings. Ok, maybe inundated is the wrong word, but the dry spell is definitely over. I currently work in a building that houses Ben Affleck, Larry David, and Emilio Estevez. All three of whom I have seen. Ben by the bathrooms, Larry in his office, and Emilio in the parking lot. It always amazes me (although it shouldn't) that Ben's car is always there and parked in its spot by the time I get to work. If Ben can get to work on time, I should too, or so I think, but it never happens. I'll blame that on traffic.

Today I ran into a man who was trying to ask me for some directions. Midway through my explanation, I realized that the woman he was with was Emily Watson. She didn't speak much, but she sho was purty.

And that concludes this portion of DB's Celebrity Sightings.

Ok, ok. So I've been a bit busy lately. Here are the current state of affairs:

Apartment: in shambles
Laundry: Clean!
Violin: tuned.
Stomach: hungry.
Pink chucks: none.
Shows: 2 down, 1 to go.
Hair: getting long.
Ears: Recently pierced, not infected.
Car: side mirror mysteriously broken, needs oil change, and a good wash.

Ladies and gents, thanks for being patient, as I've been held up by this or that in the past few hours/days/weeks/months/years?
Shit. Years? No no, we'll stop at months.

Most recent exciting news: no longer going on tour, but played two shows with The Little Heroes this weekend. More of which will come in the next blog, as my bed is calling my name, even though my stomach has other plans. On second thought, perhaps I will postpone talking about playing with the band until after our last show, as to not jinx it all.

Come one, come all, to the greatest show on earth!
(no, not the circus)
The Little Heroes
11/13 8pm
Knitting Factory, Hollywood.

And to all a good night.

OMG. I just realized that Ugly Betty wore those Traveling Pants. Why did it take me that long to make the connection?

Whoa...sounds like a storm is a brewin outside. Those crazy santa anas.

Lorelai and Christopher. I can't believe the writers actually went through with it. They wrote Luke off so quickly, he never had a chance! Oy...I just don't know about this show anymore.

Speaking of shows, I had a chance to catch up on some real cable on the plane, thanks to Jet Blue and DirectTV! Project runway seems pretty interesting, as everyone says. I also came across...(dun dun dun!!!!)...Laguna Beach. I just had to see what everyone was talking about. And all I have to say is this:

Dear Laguna Beach,

Are you FOR REAL?? Because I really can't tell. Everything about you is so overly dramatic, and your conversations are so, like, perfectly, like, set up that its just like, a little unbelievable. All your characters are just all so pretty, what's with that? Your girls look older than I'll look in 5 years! (granted, I do have a 5 year handicap) And the boobs. Can't exclude them boobs. They're like a character with their own plot line, and seriously, you have enough characters already, I can't keep up. And your boys. They're just the biggest pussies I've ever seen. At least I know that is for real. I highly doubt that boys meet up at the park under the guise of skateboarding in order to "really" discuss whether they're leading on their girlfriends, or whether they should break up. My god. Have I totally lost touch with the real world? Are you just the cousin of Sweet Sixteen? Either way, you're both evil.

But yea, call me sometime, let's hang out! Maybe on the next Jetblue flight?

L?ve,
your BFF!!!

Sigh.

New haircuts. They're really a no-win situation. You can't get away without someone noticing a new hair-did, that is of course, unless you wear a hat to cover it up. And let's face it people, I'm no hat person. Perhaps I should try putting a bag over my head...but even that draws too much attention.

I generally hate my haircuts. There have been a handful of them that I was actually excited about, but the rest I have not been too pleased with. But its ok, because hair grows out, and actually- once it grows a little, they're generally not TOO bad. But because I usually don't like my haircuts, I'm stuck in a "hairy" situation. Obvious comments such as "oh, you got a haircut!" generally evolves into, "looks great!" And I'm either stuck lying about how much I love my new "did" (or, "don't and wish I never had" if you will), or saying the truth- that I hate it, which invariably makes me look like I'm just fishing around for compliments like, "no way, it looks faaabulous." Because really, when was the last time someone said to your face, "Eeeek...what happened to your head?"

This time around, I've learned my lesson, which is to just smile, nod, and acknowledge as I tousle my shorter tresses, and quickly move on. However, the kitchen, where everyone convenes for coffee and the mild banters of weekend activities and whatnot is hard to avoid. Got to have the coffee to go with the new "DOn't." It's my only salvation.

The haircut this time is not God-awful, where I'm embarrassed to be seen. But its not fan-tabulous either. I've become too lazy to fret over it, except for that minute immediately following the moment I wake up, where I remember I've just had a haircut, which is only made worse by the inevitable aftermath of sweet sweet sleep. But then I wash, dry, and do the did, then just move on. Rinse Lather and Repeat for several days. In a short month, it'll be old news. In the mean time, I'm grateful for rubberbands, bobby pins, and maybe the occasional hat.

Ok, seriously folks.

How ecstatic am I to hear that Paris and Nicole have gotten back together? And with a slumber party! Seriously. I know the two of them are way way way overhyped in the media for their own good. And yes, they're people just like us. Except with alot more money...ALOT more. I know this is a very LA thing to say, but in all earnestness, if lame-ass people like Paris and Nicole can get back together and make up, that gives me hope for all the hate in the rest of the world. I truly am happy that they're friends again. They worked so well together, even when scripted.

So, I leave LA for a couple of days and this is what happens? Maybe I need to leave more. Imagine what I can accomplish if I left LA for a month!! I could come back to Brad and Jen again and find out that the whole Angelina thing was just a bad MOW (or, MOY: Movie of the YEAR). Perhaps with kids? Triplets!!

Maybe if I moved out of LA for good, Tom would still be with Nicole, and not crazy with Katie.

Ok, ok, who am I kidding. Tom's always been crazy. I'll change that last one to: Tom would still be with Nicole, and his old publicist.

It's a sad day when the people bringing you hope are people like Paris and Nicole. I hope they won't let me down.

Wow. An assignment from a dear reader. That is a first. I'll give it a go.

Introspective Retrospective: A Reflection

Looking back on these last 5 years of blogging, I don't regret ever starting a blog in the first place, in fact, I highly commend myself for doing so, and any others that do the same. The idea for the blog came after my first website went up in sophomore year of college. It was summer, I was at summer school in San Diego, and not many friends were around, so blogging became a way for me to easily update any news to my website, as well as an outlet for me to stop talking to myself so much since no one was around...yea...sad but true.

When I started, I never really thought the relationship would last this long. After all, my first, second, and third website have since died...yet this blog lives. And when I refer to my blog as a relationship, you might think its funny, but it truly has been a relationship for me. Not in the traditional physical tangible relationship way. But the same way you share a day's events with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or catch up with a friend you haven't seen in a while, I do through this blog. In sharing things about me on this blog, I'm able to share myself with the masses through a cloak of invisibility. And a relationship is all about sharing right? And commitment. 5 years is a long time. Alot happens in 5 years. And, granted, I haven't blogged on a daily basis since the inception of Daily Banterings, I haven't completely given up on it either.

I get different things out of my blog at different times. Right now, what I feel like I'm getting the most out of blogging is a RECORD. I'm starting to realize that I tend to have an awful memory, and by blogging about things, no matter how little and insignificant they may be, the entries serve as my brain, part of my past, history. I enjoy going back and reading the things I've forgotten about. And the idea of that is probably total anti-buddhist...but then again, I'm not a buddhist, and its my blog, so I can do anything I want. But I think (if I have it correctly), Buddhism teaches about living in the present. Being aware of the present. Not having any possessions, which also equates to not holding on to the past. But, its not like I'm holding on to the past by recording it in my blog, I just enjoy visiting the past from time to time. Maybe that's why it's called FOND memories, and not awful horrific memories.

Other times, I just need an audience, a soapbox. If I have something to bitch about, I want to do it for an audience, not just for myself, otherwise, I don't think it'd be bitching, it'd be just mental thoughts. I think I have a set core audience of 3-5 readers, which is enough for me, but the idea of the internet reaching the south pole is quite intriguing to me. The possibility of strangers landing on this blog is a scary, yet exciting thought. I often wonder about my audience. Whether I should keep certain things under wraps for fear that someone is going to find this blog and be able to read all about me. But it's not really for others. I don't blog for other people, I like to think that I blog for my own benefit, and the audience is just an added value feature.

I also blog to try to keep my mental juices flowing. I wouldn't say that blogging is a creative outlet for me...it's more of just thoughts pouring out of my head. I think once in a blue moon I'll try to get creative with my blog, but, I'm not writing the great american novel here. My fingers are just taking dictation from my brain.

As fun as it can be though, I'm often paralyzed by blogging. I don't know what it is. Perhaps fear. Fear of people knowing more about me than I really want. Fear of becoming mundane and trite....and of becoming the type who uses the words "mundane" and "trite" together in one sentence. Laziness. Lack of vocabulary and eloquence to say everything that I'm thinking or feeling. People are made real by words, yknow? You could be feeling sad or ecstatic on the inside, but that existence of being sad or ecstatic doesn't come into being until you put it into words. I guess you can look at someone crying and know that they're sad without them having to say so. But once they do, that makes it even more real. Once it's put into words, it becomes real, there is no room for doubt as to whether that person is sad or not, because they have just said or written that they are. It's like...ok, here comes another one of my analogies. It's like when you're being beamed on the starship. Yes, ala Startrek. (Insert nerd joke here.) So everyone is walking around and existing as a glittery half-there hologram with all their thoughts and feelings that they think and feel UNTIL you put a feeling or thought into words. That's when you're completely beamed over to the otherside...when you materialize. Words materialize people. It validates the intangible...

I don't know, you could probably argue with that point. I'm open to any other views.

Yarrrrr...A happy TLAP Day to thee....

Sometimes I wonder if I should take up smoking.

Ok, no, of course not. First of all, all my money is already going to the coffee addiction, not nicotine, though I've heard the combination is a great one.

Second of all, people who smoke are way cool, and I'm only semi cool, and that semi part only exists in my head some of the time, but that's all that matters right? And I know there's some of you out there going, no way, smoking isn't cool. It's so gross and digusting. Ugh. But you're wrong. Despite what your parents, D.A.R.E officers, and PSAs have told you, smoking is kick ass cool. Probably not as cool as a healthy liver, but really...have you ever met a smoker that wasn't cool? I mean, they could be the meanest, rudest, or sweetest people ever, but they have something that non smokers don't have: an air of coolness.

Y'know that episode of Friends (yes, Friends) where Rachel takes up smoking in order to get promoted? Well...the writers totally had that right on the nose. Smokers have excuses to take breaks. They can all instantly bond because they share a love for a magical white stick. It's like they're all in this special club together that non smokers would never understand. And by the way, we do understand, we just choose not to. You can hit on someone taking a smoke outside a bar, because you know they're not going to complain about you smoking. You can share something intimate with your boss over a drag and be in line for promotion the next day. You can meet random strangers and hot chics and hot guys that would never talk to you outside the smoking circle, but since you're a member of the club, they'll give you that one chance, and vice versa. All this over a pinch of dead turf rolled up with some paper. It's amazing, it really is.

If only there was a way to get into the club without adhering to the beliefs and practices of said club. And forget about those candy cigarettes...not enough flavor, not enough bubble.

If only there was a way to make coffee drinking as cool...but I think Starbucks ruined that chance for all of us...damn Starbucks....(no, I don't really mean that, I love you).

Arrrr......

I missed the first orchestra rehearsal. And it really bums me out to know that I'll miss all the other orchestra rehearsals. I really feel like playing, but alas, there is no where for me to practice. What a bummer. Hopefully by next year I can get back in the swing of things again.

It seems as though I'm running into people from the past everywhere! This past saturday, I ran into a friend from Highschool. Had not seen him in years, and suddenly, BAM! we were standing there chatting, directly in front of a possible stampede path of death by a red elephant. He remembered me, and the elephant did not charge. I am thankful for both.

And then last weekend, while at the grove with the relatives, I ran into a friend from college. My film partner in crime. He definitely recognized me, but sadly did not seem to recall my name. Totally understandable...I did pretty much sneak up on him without warning. But still.

Now what does this mean? All these people from my past, now emerging out of nowhere? Ok ok, granted, it was only 2 people, and I wouldn't be surprised if I don't hear from them again until the next random run in, but 2 in two weeks seems like something of significance...doesn't it? Or maybe I'm just looking too much into things. OR! Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe it wants me to go back in time by bringing people from my past into my now to slowly adjust myself to something, of which I will find out exactly what when it happens. First a college friend. Then a highschool friend. What's next, someone from elementary school? Ok, if that happens, that'll definitely be a sign. Until then, I'm just gonna keep cool...and flip my collars up for effect.

I recently rewatched In the Mood For Love. And while I was watching, I remembered that the first time I saw the movie was back in highschool with my parents...still just a kid. I remember that I totally lost interest in the movie, and never finished it. Probably partly because I couldn't understand what they were saying, and the chinese subtitles were going too fast for me to read.

Fast forward to now, rewatching the movie for the 5th or 6th time...just thinking that it's brilliant. The subtleties, the concept, the acting, the music...all of it combined together, it's all just brilliant, and I get it, and understand it (partly because now I have the version with ENGLISH subtitles) on a much deeper level. It's really one of my favorites.

But rewind back to me in highschool, I remember thinking, man, this is one of those artsy fartsy movies that rich people sit around to watch and say is brilliant just so they can seem smarter than they really are. This movie is a bunch of nonsense.

So doing all this thinking about the movie led me to wonder: would my kid self approve of my adult self? And I even hesitate to say adult, because I really don't feel like one yet. I guess more mature would be better. If I, as a 16 year old, could see myself now, as a 25 year old, would I be proud? Or would I be disappointed? And if I, as a 25 year old right now, could see myself as a 40 year old, what would I think of her?

When I was in highschool, I wanted to be a musician. A professional musician. I wanted to play in the philharmonic, or for broadway shows, or cirque du soleil (I got introduced to it in highscool...) And now, looking back, it really wouldn't have worked for many many reasons. But if I were to tell my younger self what I'm doing now, before I knew what I know now, would my younger self be pissed at me now?

Ok ok. Let's just cut to the chase. I haven't been blogging. And I can't give you the reasons why without sounding like a total flake, so I won't.

Well, ok. One of the reasons is just that I feel like my creative blogging juices are slowly draining away from me. And all that's left is the crappy pulp stuff...which they say is good for you, but without the juice, is really just dry crap if you ask me. But wait, don't pull out your violins yet...I'm willing to work on it and keep blogging.

I've realized that aside from entertaining audiences with my banter, blogging is also a good way for me keep a record of things that are going on in my life. So let's get started, eh?

I saw boobies. Well, "a" (singular) boob.

Let's backtrack yea?

Couple weeks ago I took my parents to the Hollywood Bowl, since they've never been. We had a nice time, and as we got back to the Hollywood and Highland complex, we decided to stop at the restrooms before heading for our car. So while I was waiting for both my parents to come out, these group of girls came out. These...I can't even call them girls...they're more than teens, but less than women. I guess they are women, but they were just all so....so giggly. Oy. Not that there's anything wrong with giggly, but there were loud, obnoxious giggly, and wearing skirts that looked like they were painted on.

I watched them with disgusted amusement. Was I jealous of these girls with their low cut shirts and big boobs and perfect hair walking sexily in their high HIGH heels? These sorority sisters about to begin their night of drunken who knows what with god knows who, while I was ending my night with...the parents. I think I can honestly say no, I wasn't jealous. To be honest, watching them in action took alot of energy out of me, and frankly, I just don't have that kind of pep in me.

But still....I watched them from afar, wondering what life would be like under all that makeup and tight clothes and "like, ohmigod!" coming out of my mouth with ease. I never did that in college. Maybe I should've...just to be able to say I did that. But really...unless you're a cheerleader by nature, who can DO THAT? I see myself as Eeyore by nature...and Eeyore will never be Tigger.

But I digress...

So this girl with the huge boobs...she's laughing and chatting with her girls, and fixing and retying her low cut halter when suddenly, her bare boob falls out for...not even a split second...it was much longer than that, yet she didn't seem to notice. What seemed like a minute later...she finally looked down and said, oops! And covered it back up. Even though I was in plain sight, I didn't bother looking away. I just stared. It's always interesting to see someone elses' boob.

All in all, it was a fruitful night: John Williams, movie music, and a Boob. Not too shabby.

That's it for tonight. Join me next time for...well, you'll just have to come back and find out.

While in a store this morning, I overheard this kid talking to his mom while she shopped, and he followed. This kid was pretty young, maybe 7 or 8, but he seemed very smart to me. There was some piano music playing throughout the store, and he said, "Do you know what that is? That's a harp." (Ok, so it was really the piano, but at least he knows about the harp!)

"The harp?" his mom replied, not really paying attention as she kept on shopping.
"Yea, its like the violin." (Again, not REALLY, but he knows about the violin, so its close enough.)
"And you know how you play it? You use your hands and go like this." (I couldn't see, but I assume at this point he was air plucking his invisible harp. This kid is a genius!)

"Or, you can use an arrow."

Hahahaha. I thought that last comment was hilarious, as I walked off chuckling to myself. Kids are so funny sometimes. Maybe he watched a little too much Robin Hood...the animated one.

And then yesterday, I was standing in a long line at the bank. There was this older lady, probably 60 or 70, in front of me. She turned around, and just out of nowhere, complimented me on my tshirt. "I like your shirt!" she says, with much enthusiasm. "Are you a musician?" I told her I play a little, not wanting to get TOO into why I was wearing that particular shirt yesterday. "I used to play the piano," she says. And then we engaged in minor chit chat about the bank, before we went back to waiting in line. Then, her husband showed up with a box of cornflakes in his basket, and said, "I can't think of what else I'm suppose to get." The lady said, "Well, we need bread, but you don't know what kind. And we need fruit, and you don't know what kind either, so just stand there." Well, I found this to be pretty funny as well, and started chuckling to myself, and then he turns to me and says, "She always tells me what to do. She's been telling me what to do for 62 years."

62 years!! Geez. I can't remember what else he said to me, but he teased her in jest as if she couldn't hear him, and she shrugged it off as though she didn't want to hear him. Their whole interaction with each other was so cute, that I almost wanted to hang around them a little bit more. But alas, she went to cash her check, as I went to deposit mine, and since I finished before her, I said my goodbyes to her, and then to her husband as I walked by him. And he said to me jokingly, "She can't even cash a $40 check! And do me a favor will ya?" Sure, I replied. "Don't lose that smile," he said.

Aw....what a cute couple! It's always couples like these that I find adoringly cute. The ones that have been together for 50+ years and still seem to genuinely enjoy each others company. The ones that have been untouched by the internet and reality tv, even though they have lived through it. It's people like them that I'm envious of.

So the moral of this blog? Kids and old people are cool. Everyone in between....mmm....not so much.

I just got home from work and thought about spending some detox time going through the NEW Ikea catalog, imagining what life would be like with uncomfortable yet stylish furniture. (All I could come up with was that it would most likely be: uncomfortable, yet stylish...)

However, seeing how I have not blogged in a while, I decided to suspend the catalog perusal until further notice. Instead I am here, loving you loving me...at least enough to read through this.

I just wrote about two paragraphs full of nothing of importance, and decided to delete it instead. And then I just spent another five minutes sitting here, wondering what I can write about.


Nothing.


There's everything, and then there's nothing. Right now I've got nothing.

Wow, its been so long since I last blogged that the site didn't even remember me!! I actually had to type in my username and password to blog!! The nerve...

Been pretty busy lately with everything, and when I get a spare moment, I will sit down and blog about something important, something substantial, something blog-worthy. But right now all I've got is this:

My boy JT is bringing sexy back. To tell you the truth, I didn't know it was gone to begin with, but if anyone can bring sexy back, it would be JT.

Speaking of sexy, the Pussycat Dolls are looking for another member. That McGee is brilliant. Finally, I can go pull my hoochie mama outfits out of storage and put them to use.

It took me 2 hours to get home last night. That's right. 2 hours. I've been telling EVERYONE. Thought I should tell you too.

I missed our 5th year anniversary...I'm so sorry. It was thoughtless and careless of me. Please don't be mad. I'll make it up, I promise.

Aarg...how annoying.

Katie Melua is only in town for one night, (tonight!) and I totally missed her. Funny thing is, I drove a different way home tonight, to drop something off at a friend's house, and just happened to pass by the Troubador where I just happened to look up to their sign to see what shows were coming up, and it just so happened to say Katie Melua, and I just so happened to gasp in excitement until I looked around the sign further to find that that her show is/was TONIGHT! And there I was, sitting in traffic on Santa Monica Blvd, wondering if I should turn around and just buy tickets for a show starring this girl that I'm in love with. Really, she is awesome. But, the me that I am, it was just too late and I just had too many things to do tonight (like blog about missing a really awesome show? hm...) Hopefully she'll be back in town again soon...though I doubt it. Wah.

What does one do when one turns 25?

1. Have ice cream for breakfast.
2. Leave car so dirty that stranger leaves 3 carwash coupons on windshield.
3. Have 3 girly drinks and a beer. A BEER!

I'm growing up so fast...

2 1/2 blondes, a guy, and his car...

Almost forgot what I came here for! Music videos!!

Ok, two words: Paris Hilton. You might've seen the music video, or even the new version. But how surprised are you at how well she sang? Ok, the word "well" is used relatively. I mean, when I first heard that Paris was even singing, I almost choked on a cackle. For real. I don't know what I expected. I guess I was expecting William Hung? I mean, given the way that she talks, and the voice that she uses, I really wasn't expecting much. The song itself? Pure crap. But, her voice was better than I thought it would be! I know, I know, studio magic and all. But still...

For those of you with a tomato in your hands, I guess now's the time to throw it at me.

Moving on to our second blonde:
Brooke Hogan. Yes- THE Hogan. I didn't even know she had a singing career, but apparently, BAM, here it is. She's all very cute and sexy and all in her video, you know, the usual sexy dance and hair flips. She even has a whole boxing workout bit, doing some jump roping, some girl-kick-ass stuff. It's all nice and visually stimulating and all, very generic music video stuff. And then you come to the lyrics. Oh god, the lyrics.

"I'm just trying to live but your all up in my grill." No, for real. She sings this.
"Everybody's just fronting its what they do."

Yup, it's what we do. We front. I front. I'm fronting. Front front front. (Haha, the word probably just lost all meaning for you just now huh? eh?)

Here's this blonde daddy's girl chic, singing You're All Up In My Grill????? Is she for real? Are you kidding me? "Up in my grill?" Not only am I up in her grill, I'm ALL UP in her grill. Where does she get this stuff from?

Oh right, her daddy probably.

Can I get a Good Grief Charlie Brown? Amen.

Next up, our half blonde, the always lovely and foxy sexy Beyonce!! Ok, how hot is her new video, DejaVu? It's like a girl's wet dream. Seriously. She goes through like 10 different outfit changes throughout this video. I started counting at first, concentrating really hard, but then I just got sucked in to the whole video and lost count. I'm pretty sure its around 10. Ten incredible outfits that she looks great in. Well, there was one that didn't look so hot, but the others were awesome. And then there's all that running through the grass...beautiful, just beautiful. Oh yea, and Jay-Z looks nice too and yadda yadda blah blah blah. But man, Beyonce looks fantastic. And all that dancing she does...whew. I'm tired just thinking about it. I could just sit and watch that video all day...

Last up, a guy and his car. I can't say too much about it, all I's can do is direct you to this link, and bid you goodnight.

Oy yoy yoy.

I came to blog about music videos, instead, I'm blogging about people moving away.

What's up with that? My brother's moving to Ireland, Christine moved to NYC (!), Nick's moving to Boston, Angel might be moving to Virginia, Lee's going to Paris (!!!!), Son's in NY, Jamie's in NY...It seems as though everywhere but LA is the place to be.

Ok, I may be exaggerating. LA is great. There's great people here, and really good korean food. I shouldn't complain. BUT I AM! I want to move away. I want a job, or school to take me away to some foreign land, be it New Mexico or Paris, where I have to fend for myself, and grow up a little. Where I actually have to socialize and meet people (although I do enjoy talking to myself. Haha, kidding....a little).

For now, I am here. And probably will be for a while. Other than not enough closet and shoe space in my apt (but then again, what girl does?)...I really don't have much to complain about.

Shorts are sooo in season this summer. So why am I still wearing jeans today, in 96 degree weather? Who knows. I just know I haven't worn shorts outside in public in a looooooong time. Skirts, capris, dresses, sure sure. But shorts? No no. Must find some shorts to wear.

Oh, and chocolate milk is delicious.

I always start the day wanting to blog about this or that, always reminding myself to write it down, to make mental notes - I even log these thoughts into my imaginary recording device that I keep in my imaginary breast pocket - but no luck. By the end of the day, as I sit at my computer, I've got nothing.

And now, even as I sit here, staring at my monitor.....yup, nothing.

I could go on a rant about TRAFFIC. The horrible awful thing in LA that makes people hate this place so much, when there really is so much prettiness here. But not on the 134. Nor the 101 nor the 10. Don't even get me started on the 405. Ok, end of that topic.

So, as I drive in to work I always pass by these parking spots reserved for some very important people. The other day I noticed the sign that said, Reserved For Emilio Estevez. I asked a coworker about this particular sign, and she confirmed. Yes, he does work at this building, he's very nice. Wow. Just imagine. The real Emilio Estevez. I work in the vincinity of the man who single handedly led The Ducks to win three major championships simply by quacking. (Well, with the help of charlie, I GUESS, but we all know who the real coach was.) I wonder if I'll ever run into him. That would be AWESOME.

The other day I went down to Korea town with my beloved Angel and I stocked up on Korean food. And now I have tupperwares full of food in my freezer, conveniently ready to go at a moment's notice. I LOVE korean food. Love love love.

Speaking of love, I'm in LOVE. Yes, again. He's Belgian (yup, just like those yummy waffles) and his name is Django. Isn't that a lovely name? Django Reinhardt. I don't know where he's been all my life (well, other than dead), but all that matters now is that I've found him. And that's all that matters.

The End.

Today, I was just about to walk into work when this nice guy was kind enough to tell me that I still had my tag on my shirt. Ooooh..that would've been sooo embarrassing. Well, it was already with this one guy, but just imagine all that embarrassment multiplied by 30. Zut alors!

Thanks for your kindness, mysterious man #1.

I never understood why life is just a bowl of cherries. Why not watermelon? A bowl of watermelon is delicious, especially right now, with the heat. I mean, cherries are nice and all, but watermelon is so sweet and juicy and cold and cruchy and delicious. Although, I can see how "Life is just a bowl of watermelon" would not fit into the song so well. Too many syllables.

Why, Christina, why?

Christina got implants. Why she decided to do so I'm not sure. She was large and in charge already without them. Now they just jiggle and wiggle and pop out of places they shouldn't. What was she thinking??

Ozwald Boateng!

That's the gorgeous man's name. It came to me in my sleep...Isn't that a great name? Too bad he only does men's fashion..

It's late and I must get up early tomorrow (yes, even on Saturday), but it's too hot to sleep. Damn Burbank and it's heat. Damn valley.

However, I do have a couple things I'd like to talk about.

1. The Lake House. Came out today. And yes, I'm sure we've all wondered how Sandra and Keanu can keep a relationship when they're living two years apart. (I mean, other than calling each other up on the tele/mobile phone once they do find out they're two years apart...but hey, I'm no scriptwriter. What do I know, I just blog.) I have enough of a hard time keeping up with people on the other side of the hill, let alone two whole years! The mystery of it all kept me interested, but hearing all the reviews today tells me it's a waste of time. (Yes, Keanu alone should've told me it was a waste of time. But c'mon! Two years! How do they do it? Actually, it's a magic mailbox. That's right. A magic mailbox.) However, after hearing all the reviews, I'm really interested in the original Korean version now...

2. The Standard is a sham. Full of pretty people and cute boys and big boobs by the pool, but really, the hotel itself is just...well...standard.

3. Sometimes I really do long for cable. Today I watched the end of an episode of Queer Eye. I also saw commercials for The Simple Life. Yes, it's scripted reality, but Nicole is so funny sometimes. Someone tell me this: how are they doing a show together when they publicly declared their breakup long ago? Faux friendship for money? Perhaps, but that just seems so....oh right...Hollywood. Oh oh! And then I saw a commercial for a new show starring this man with such a great name that I can't remember right now. Doing a reality show on, of all things, high fashion! He was such a gorgeous man too, I can't believe I can't remember his name...Anyways. Sometimes I miss cable.

4. Birthdays are popping up everywhere. Seems like there's tons of June birthdays!

5. Goodnight.

How the HECK! did Garfield get a second movie? How???

I just tried to upload a bunch of pictures, and then ended up deleting all of them. Lately I've had an influx of pictures I've been wanting to share, with the new baby, my NYC pictures, Mr. A's b/w NYC pics, Moon in new cute poses, the list goes on. But then at the last minute thought against it. I made up my mind long ago to make this a picture free site, so that's how it will stay.

I need to start making my own website so I can post all these pictures up.


Nothing else new to report. Picked up some more books this weekend, have fresh material to keep me company. Also tried to venture out into the world today with Mr. D. We went next door to Silverlake to catch the street fair and to look at all the pretty people. I was only out for a mere 2 hours, and was already feeling shitty by the time I got back. Looks like that long bike ride I had planned for tomorrow is out of the question...?



Ok, I changed my mind. I'm putting up this picture to make up for the lackluster post. Mr. Hatter was simply irresistable.

As my few readers will know from an embarrassing error sent out to all paramount pages, not eating makes me angry. It also makes me easily annoyed and short tempered. I have since realized that this is probably due to low blood sugar. Mmm...sugar...

Dr. Martin Luther King once had a dream. I too have a dream...

I have a dream, that someday my appetite will return, and that I will eat all that is before me.
I have a dream, that when that someday is here, I will eat with all my power and all my might, and probably skip chewing.
I have a dream, that one day, nothing will sound just "meh" or "alright" and that everything will make my mouth water.

I hold this truth to be self evident: That all food is delicious, and waiting for me to eat it. I have a dream today.

Today-
Argentina: 2
The World: 24
SH: 0

I just can't win. I am a defeated woman.

Current friends: Kathleen Kelly, Joe Fox, and Strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats (yes, they are delicious).

Mmm...Life cereal...the only solace I have in this uphill battle.

Holy mothaf*cker.

It's 4 in the AM and I cannot fall asleep. To make matters even worse, I just found a spider in my bed. THAT'S RIGHT! A spider in my motherf*cking uncomfortable bed. Maybe it wasn't coincidence that I couldn't sleep the same night I find a spider in my bed? Maybe...

And maybe it wasn't coincidence that I was lying on my stomach reading, during this encounter with said spider, instead of lying against my pillow reading, or even worse, lying asleep in bed! Shock shock horror horror shock shock horror! Instead of spider in my bed, it would've been spider in my mouth, and down my throat into my stomach! I never thought those statistics were real....wait, did I just beat a statistic? HA! Take that, STATISTIC! Instead of the annual 8 a year, I will have only swallowed an average of 7 spiders this year. And seeing how I don't believe I have swallowed any at all this year, and it being June already, things are looking on the up and up.

Damn Burbank and their damn spiders!

I still cannot sleep. That cup of chammomile tea at 10pm was a bad idea, now that I think back. I feel like the whole world is conspiring against me. I've been reading for the past two hours. And lying in bed the hour before that. Perhaps the spider was waiting for me to fall asleep before making its attack, and after three hours or so, couldn't hold his bladder in anymore, so he tried to escape past my detective eyes by diverting my attention on my book (which it was already on...smooth one spider...smooth). But his daddy long legs weren't fast enough for my eyes, they're like spider death rays. Once again:

Szu-Hua: 576
The World: 2
Spiders: 0

Motherfuckers.

It is 1:16am on June 7, 2006.

I have survived 6/6/06, and since you're reading this, you have too.

Congratulations to us all.

It's 5pm, and I've done nothing today. My head is fuzzy, my face is warm, and my body aches. I've laid on the bed and the couch, and thought about doing work, but all that thinking just made my head hurt even more, so I settled on my collection of chick flicks. Not that there's no thinking involved with chick flicks, don't get the wrong idea. Many a chick flicks are filled with complicated drama and serious issues that makes a person ponder about the intricacies of the world. Except I just know my chick flicks so well and have watched them so many times that I don't have to think about them. Though, I just spent and hour with Sally and Harry and all that talking talking talking back and forth and back again started to make my head hurt. So here I am, back in the quietness of my head, transferring all that is swirling up in it through my hands and on to this post.

It's almost time for me to go to work. I hope I make it through tonight. Where did the day go?

Isn't Madras just another word for Plaid? Old Navy is trying to "make summer Madras" when in fact, I think they're trying to make us look like lumberjacks. Well, cute lumberjacks, of course.

Tonight on the radio I heard someone explain the difference between American and French wine by comparing it to having dinner with Dolly Parton and Catherine DeNeuve. After that I really wanted some French wine...I still do actually.

Summer orchestra has started. But alas, this time, I'm not able to make it to rehearsals due to the work schedule. At first I figured, whatever, it's just a summer orchestra, I can always join back with the Valley orchestra again in the fall. But now, I really miss it. I miss playing my violin...its already been a month since I last played. It's probably not very happy with me right now. And if that's the case, Kilroy must HATE me...I've been neglecting him, and he's just collecting dust in the corner. Tomorrow I will dust him off and give him a good tuning or two.

Apparently! There are electric violins that hook up straight into headphones so that one can practice in silence. I mean, I was aware of the existence of electric violins, but never thought to put it to this use. However, I need to investigate this further, it seems too good to be true. There's gotta be a catch somewhere.

Stay Tuned!

I used to love living so close to work. My commute was 2 minutes, give or take, depending on whether I walked or biked that day. I could come home for lunch and take a nap if I so desired. Save money on gas and get some exercise at the same time. Lots of benefits, I tell ya.

I don't love it so much any more. It's not "MY" work anymore, its merely a past tense now. Living so close to your previous place of employment has its ups and downs. Mostly ups though. I still run into co-workers every now and again at the grocery store or crossing the street, or even randomly at Corner Bakery. I worked with a bunch of amazing, great people, which is why I love to run in to them when I do. And especially since I don't have much human encounter during my days anymore, seeing a familiar face is always exciting. But afterwards, it always reminds me of how I'm no longer there, part of that group. So the initial "Hey! How are ya! It's so good to see ya!" in the beginning is a great high until we both go our separate ways, and I realize that I'm not going to see them again in 5 minutes back at the office. It's quite a downer really. Especially when I come home and find myself in mid-conversation with the cat...that's trouble.

And running into management is always AWKWARD. The other day I found myself on the opposite side of the street just as the owner, Mr. X, happened to be walking towards my direction. My heart raced, my palms sweated. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't possibly turn and run away, that would've been too obvious. Yet there was no large hole in front of me to fall into. What was I to do? Afterall, this was the man who is essentially responsible for my unemployment. Probably not directly, but he had to ok the deal. So you can see how a large hole in the ground would've come in handy at this moment in time. And all I could think to do was smile and wave to him across the street, and quickly continue on my way. To this day I still can't think of another thing I could've done, though I wish I could.

It's time to move. Especially with this heat...