Crashing

For the first time ever, I was in a car wreck while I was behind the wheel. Crazy. I have been driving for 13 years and have received one speeding ticket (that was richly overdue) and have only been the passenger in at least 3 wrecks that involved other vehicles. The amount of adrenaline that pulsed through my body reminded me of being on ecstacy. It also reminded me of how dangerous cars are in general and you only have to have a license to drive. Nowhere does it state you need any common sense or good judgement. (photo above is not my accident- I just like the pic for effect!)

Good Mix for your tummy

Happy post Thanksgiving to all. It was indeed a day to be thankful. The morning was spent with two super folks in addition to a church hosting a Thanksgiving meal free of charge for those who feel so inclined. It was a glorious mix of good and hungry folks. These types of circumstances always get my heart hurting and my ducts a-workin'. For that day, I did pretty good by keeping busy and channeling the good thru a smile as opposed to tears. Sometimes volunteer situations bring on stress and discomfort, but the folk's at St. Benedict's were just as jolly as Old St Nick may have been. Seriously, most of them had rosy cheeks whether they were Irish, cookin', or helpin' about. Interestingly enough, as in many situations, people would come to me to ask for direction, "Where do the pies go?, Where can I get coffee? Do we have plastic bags? Who's in charge?", etc. Ironically enough, I knew most of the answers or some how found out before being asked. Not only was it happening, but one of my friends noticed and made note of how people seem to look to me as a possible authority figure just by the way I was standing there. Little did most of those people know that I was pretty much guarding the reserve bread and keeping out of the way, but ready to do something else if asked or if another person was needed. There were a few ladies trying to ease into my spot, but I held strong until they clearly wanted my post. Fine, I yielded and was granted a spot on the serving line anyway. It was indeed a good time. Later I joined some other friends that hosted some cousins and couple of us orphans. It was nice and mostly traditional. I miss fungos, though. Fungos: what slightly overweight or lazy men do as their form of baseball -where one guy hits a ball into to the outfield, but there is no base running. I never said I played, I was a girl and what the fuck would a girl know about baseball of any other sport.

Hope you enjoy a little Gary Larson.

I was thankful to spend at least a day with other people since the rest of the weekend was spent by myself and that's ok until I fell. I fucking fell flat on my keister with a head hittin' the refrigerator. It has left several marks. I knew it was gonna happen because Chubbs (the kitty) had a little vomit action that I had cleaned up and while I cleaned it up I made a note to myself that the spot would be slippery, and sure enough. It was kind of scary because no one called until today. I don't talk to anyone on a regular basis anymore and I was just thinking how thankful I was for not hurting myself or for not falling on Thurs and hurting myself and no one would know until Mon when I wouldn't show for work. Is menopause setting in or is it the weed talking?

careful what you wish for

At one point I said, "G-d, I wish people would stop calling me." And it is so. If I didn't work with the phone all the time, I might want to talk on the phone, but few and far between. I went the whole week end without one call or even return call from a friend. I feel good about myself


Babysitting for an allergy prone child (or an over protective single mother) brought on feelings of being left out and I used to be like, "I wanna have allergies. That would be fun to go to the doctor every other week for the next 5 years to see what, if any and all, things I am allergic to. I've not been allergic to anything per se, but have always had skin problems. Now I have a rash on my neck and other odd places (not my crotch) and am donning two patches on my back to see if I am allergic to any of the 24 "scratches". That's right, I get my allergy tests, but I bet the needles were more fun.

For some reason, I always thought about bringing on hardship to myself. I used to constantly think about 'what would happen if I stubbed my toe on that..." knowing full well it would be painful, butstill visioned the blood and the desired the pain with blood. WTF?

Boo

Happens every time. Over analyzing. Smothering the thought instead of enjoying the idea. Anticipating every possible angle until nothing ever happens now because it is jinxed. I honestly feel as though I jinx every possible boyfriend situation and even though I can see it happening, I can't stop myself. Yeeeesh. It ends the same way, just a fade out. Few and far between phone calls suddenly just stop or the text messages don't get returned and I am fine with it more than not. I am a lover not a fighter and I have yet to meet the man I am willing to fight for. I went so far as to research some of his state's history.

It is a strange feeling to want to know something about a person so much, that you would try to find things out by the littlelist clues because you didn't have much to go on. -make sense?

My Kermit

Have you ever received a phone call from someone that has a whole lotta friends, lives thousands of miles away, and is wicked busy? You wonder, 'Man, you have so many friends and yet you have consistantly made an effort to keep in touch with me. Why me?' He is one of the people that keep me alive. There has been a dip in my positive movement forward in the last couple weeks and the phone call last night has helped lift it up just a bit. This person, in my opinion is the coolest person I have ever met. However; I am terribly awkward around him in our continued and more intimate, at times, friendship. An intense inferiority complex fueled by insecurities about myself as a human, let alone as an artist (with what ever art I continue), keep me awkward around such greatness. Why I give him that much worship is still a total mystery to me, but I think I have made my decision on how I feel about him. I still get entirely too wound up when he calls. I am not talking romantically or sexually, but something else that makes me crazy. I visited him out west not too long ago and I just was completely overwhelmed. A most creative and meditative environment. I have been dealt a variety of positive and negative things over the years. Mostly negative and dissappointment is no stranger, so it's almost expected for everything now. When something is genuinely good, all I want to do is cry because I can't handle it; I'm not used to it. I cried a few times during the trip and when I got home I felt so much better spiritually because of the place I visited physically and mentally. I have given the move out west more consideration and even went so far as to begin the actual route. Moving west is almost a crap shoot for me, but there is something creatively drawing me out there, so it seems only appropriate to check it out. My Kermit is out there, too. He's my real life Kermit the Frog and I just want him to stay in my pocket and keep me company. He sings pretty good, too. Bonus.

1/3 retraction

OK. I take back a third of the nasties I spewed earlier today about the half sister thing, but I'm only giving a third back because you guys were obviously bitchin' about the gays so much that you almost forgot to vote to get yer baby back from that Iraq.

I also would like to say "Thank You" to America for finally understanding just how fucked up everything in our country and somewhat abroad is because of our government of yesterday. Literally. Let's hope these majors shifts help to better things.

Thank you for voting. (Hugs and hugs)

SUCK IT VIRGINIA

You and your conservative, ignorant. hillbilly, white people need to go back to the hole where you and your sister make babies. Honestly. Do you know what you just did? You made that cave where you and your toothless half sister live in nasty, gross, dirty sin into a home to go to after you can legally git married. You dumb, redneck, cromagnons. I hope you are happy with your decision. Now, much like those that partake in the occasional dooobage, the unions that are built on love no matter the sex, race, or domestic partner situation will be termed criminals and you incestuous ignoramuses will continue to roam free procreating with your family members and bottom-of-the-barrel-genes. Good one.

Cock Block

Take what you do not have and give virtually nothing to anyone, but yourself and ye shall find enjoyment. You are a cock block. Every time I was supposed to hang out with someone new you would text or call to see if I got some black cock and to my dismay, the black cock in question would not call or text that night. It happened 3 X's and now I haven't heard from him in over a week. Fine, it's done and I don't care, but I believe you are the constant reminder of the karma that I have damaged. In trying to be a better person all around, I have had nothing, but shit happen and a good portion of that shit I believe comes from my indiscretion with you. You sent a text yesterday announcing your next visit and I didn't respond, but I did, twice and erased them both because the more I thought about your text, the angrier I became at the whole fucking thing. And I mean, the fucking thing. It's almost as though you believe that I will always be available to you because I am weak and insecure. True to an extent. I consider you a friend (and I shouldn't) and in trying to block you out, I get more frustrated because you cut me off and now you want back in. well...FUCK YOU! You are a shit. Not once have you even thought that maybe a gesture of thanks or even a flower for my services was deserved. You and the other phone guy wouldn't even think that I might be a woman who deserved respect and possibly some care when I've spent the last 3 almost 4 years catering to what you needed. At the very least, the other guy ate me more than once and made sure that I indeed shared the same release that I gave to him. You are so caught up in the bad deed that you are doing that it has always been about you. Granted sure, you would make sure that I had my finish and in some pleasant times, we shared that together on the phone, but I will say it again, you get to love someone after you fuck me. I get nothing except the continuously whorish feeling that I've been used yet again with no thanks. And the black cock that you cock blocked? He didn't respect me either and I have one more option as it is and if that doesn't work out, we will be making our way back to celebacy lane. So let me THANK YOU for doing me the service of stopping all enjoyment because I am dying inside and now I will have to focus on my life's work instead of my next lay.

Roids and ru

Turning 30 has brought with it some wondrous and some most annoying things ever. The experience of the 30 has been overall more enjoyable than not, but what else it has brought on is a whole new monster that is both exasperating and distracting. Just a little over a month ago I got this wicked nasty rash on my neck. Now, I am not a fan of things touching my neck and this includes necklaces and the winter turtleneck, but not men (and hadn't had one on my neck in a while) so for a rash to break out there presents some concern as I hadn't changed any eating, washing, or any other habits for that matter. I am a scratcher. Make it bleed and the itch will stop. As a child I had no nails so anything I could stab through that mosquito bite the better. Wait, better yet, let's rug burn it so that the entire surface area around it is so raw that it burns to the touch. Now add alcohol. Great! So long as it doesn't itch anymore. I have scars across my body from picking, scratching, nicking, or whatever and I can handle it. I am still a scratcher and the one thing that I've gained over the years other than maturity to know that scratching the shit out of something only makes it more susceptible to germs and diseases is the fact that I now have nails. For this reason I am most concerned because I am unable to stop myself from scratching in my sleep. I will take that scratch down to the end of the itch. I don't do meds, so while on a trip to NYC with my ailing mother a few weeks ago, we picked up three different types of cream/ointment/sprays and none of them worked the way I needed. One night, I woke up and found myself just scratching the living shit out of my feet. Even with open flesh wounds the spray Benadryl burned only slightly, but went right back to itching. My mother awoke and suggested that I pour some gin on the problem areas. Surprisingly, the gin (poured for my homeys, my feet) worked like magic. I was able to sleep. The problem though is that I can't be pouring gin on my feet or any other itching area every time it needs the relief, so I had to break down and ask my doctor for help (after returning to Chicago a week and 1/2 later). She was stumped so she put me on Prednizone and up until two days ago, I didn't know it was indeed a steroid. I felt great! All my skin problems cleared up and my skin was the clearest and smoothest it has been on record. Every skin problem I had seemed to clear up and I even stopped sneezing (which started when I quit smoking). About two weeks ago I woke up feeling like a bus hit me. I just attributed it to the road trip. Yesterday, I had blurred vision, major bones aching, muscle tension, nausea, and heartburn. WTF? I finally called my doctor to see WTF? and she said it was the withdrawal from the steroid. Not doing meds is almost the equivalent to not doing doctors and even though I had just read the side effects for the prednizone, I called my doc to verify because I actually trust her opinion. She has now referred me to an allergist. Great, another fucking doctor. I've never been so much as asked to be allergy tested and just assumed that I was not allergic to anything until I quit smoking and turned 30. Where are the doctors like this one that care? Why do I sound like I'm living off Social Security? Happy Halloween.

No disrespect

The previous post is a thought, not an attack. It is increasingly upsetting to me that the moment I decide to become more of a vegetarian borderline vegan, my produce is threatened. Spinach is my favorite veggie. I'm sad. I love that we have food that comes from the earth that needs no processing and now it's in danger. The hippie is emerging. Next I will have to evaluate my showering. Water conservation is so important, but I am so OCD that I can not go a day without a shower or without washing my hands at least 15 xs a day. I at least wanted to start with the veggies. Come on veggies! Don't let me down.

Immigration Salmonella

Did it ever occur to you that just when all this immigration and fencing hooplah has come about, the produce is becoming contaminated? A retaliation is happening and duly so. You take away our right to illegally cross your border and we wave the responsibility of growing your produce properly. huh? huh?

It's a thought.

Lifted

From the decision made several months ago to stop a habit has grown forth a field of goodness. I had no idea that it would have this kind of effect on me and for it to be so tremendously positive. For the past 17 months I have been telling my stories (real stories of my life) to a woman who didn't know me from some other loony and she has helped me become a better person by believing in me. Above anything else, I needed a stranger to give me their honest, objective opinion about someone they will meet with, every other week, for the next year or two. She has been quite a helper. She hasn't made me do anything, she has just reinforced the feelings I had and helped me realize what I knew all along. So, in all this goo, I have found more confidence in myself. I haven't had this kind of confidence since my senior year in high school. Without sounding like an arrogant hooker, I have to say that most people I come into contact with find me a genuinely decent person. Granted, in the line of work I day job it in, I know I piss people off and sometimes it's almost unacceptable (the manner in which I piss them off), but it happens and I'm learning to be ok with that and yet, I am realizing how to still do a good job and handle the people that came to me at the wrong time. It's the main reason I could not work in the food industry. I don't hide it very well.

A few days ago I posted my first personal ad. I have answered a total of two and been denied both times so I decided that I'd post my own and turn things around. Well, I can't say for sure that I will find the man of my dreams this way, but it sure didn't hurt to have an extra large slice of ego boost courtesy of the post. I expected there to be a few more wacky dudes, but most of them were pretty genuine it seemed. A couple cock shots, and a couple that commented negatively on my annoyingly lost post. Those were deleted with no response. When I posted it I was sober and balls to the wall. If anything, I just needed to shout my best qualities out there so that I could get on with it and see what the men had to say about it. Pretty freaking positive. So positive I felt it necessary to pull my ad. I started to feel stressed out that I needed to respond to everyone so that I wouldn't be a bitch. I wanted the guys I rejected felt like I was being good to them and I tried to give a positive reason for the turn down. It's a bit uncomfortable. I don't care for that much attention because I honestly don't know how to handle it. I never have (please don't take this is as arrogant- if anything, self doubting until now). The whole idea of putting up a post, scanning the crowd to see and hear who may be a good match or interesting to chill with brings some new perspectives on life. The concept seems a bit like crabbing. Ever been in the Chesapeake Bay with your pants rolled up and throwing and pulling in crab pots and baskets? It's stinky, but it's pertinent to the story. Raw and uninhibited is something that I long to be, but still remain attached to some ever steady 50's mentality. It's an edge of normalcy on the brink of destruction. The more energetic and alive I become with the new lifestyle, the crazier I feel. The need to launch my teeth into something makes me feel almost like a vampire. The wave of desperation is so strong, but the denial makes it neutralize and still have that insane amount of energy that I didn't know existed within this 30 yr old mortal coil.

This overall feeling first happened back in March when I booked my flight to San Diego for $7.50. Never having been further west of the Mississippi than Illinois, I had only dreamt of the things I would not only fly over, but experience once I landed. It makes me cry a little to think of how happy I was those 4 days. When the plans were finalized there was this honestly organic orgasm that shot around my body for about 10 mins. Beats paying $30 for a pill of ecstasy. This buries the emotional distress my body goes through while watching award shows. Even if they are the lamest of the lame fucking award shows I am still crying and carrying on. I was in NYC recently and they had a rally for the Mets to go to the ALCS. I am walking with my mom and I just start crying. I think of how I felt with the Sox rally and then the ticker tape parade the city of Chicago gave them upon winning the World Series in 2005. 88 years it had been since their last win. So much emotion. You could feel pulse under the city for a good month. Even people that didn't really care about either the Cubs or the Sox were eager and excited to talk about the Southside Hitmen. Glory be the days for Chicago Southsiders post 2005 World Series title as Bridgeport will never be the same. Elevation. Everyone needs it and has their own way of reaching the level of intensity they wish to achieve. For the time after CA, I had to remind myself to go back to the place I felt there on that beautiful avocado farm. I bet it looks different now. The trees were pruned to promote more nutrient filled avocados. I now have new places to go and to draw from so that this nutrient filled new lifestyle can continue the bettering. word.

ROAD THOUGHTS

You might think I'm crazy, for driving all night long. You might think I'm foolish to keep the moon as my guide. You might think it's hysterical to drive with all these wheels, but all I want is peace. It is the most peaceful thing to drive through the night with the moon at my back lighting the clear highway. Every day you meet people that complain or exclaim how something is fucked up. "It's freezing!" or "You're insane!" are two in each category that comes to mind. Sure, I am technically having "affairs" (harmless? who knows. are they affairs? what else would you call them?) with two gents and most of the people that know about it have an opinion, good or bad, but try not to pass judgement on me at least. To a housewife, hearing this information could possibly make her that much more uncomfortable about her husband working long hours or traveling a lot and to her I apologize. To others I apologize, too, but not so specifically because there are so many variations and I won't apologize to all woman because I hate most in so many ways. For the ladies like myself, commitment has not been the best friend we never had, in fact, it has been quite damaging to me in a lot of ways and only recently have I wanted to open up that part of my life again. Until about 2 years ago, I used to commit to just about everything or everyone, so I thought, but I have been continuously disappointed and hurt, by my self. My therapist is constantly telling me to not be so hard on my self, but I can't help it. My sister said it just the other day, "It's hard to be a perfectionist when you can't focus". Ah, indeed. This road trip has allowed excellent family time and major self reflection pre and post vacation. I love flying, but it is restrictive to have people have to pick you up and renting cars is expensive on top of the flight, so driving is commitment able. Willingly I stayed with my sister, her husband, and their three children longer than I had anticipated and it proved useful and delightful. Child rearing is something so familiar and so not something I want to handle or watch. Luckily, my mother doesn't surround herself with friends or relatives that would constantly ask how my love life is going and (in a Long Island accent) 'why haven't cha married yet?' And to my surprise most of my friends seem to want to ask, but know well enough, if it is happening, I will most certainly talk about it. I got a super serenade on my voice mail when I came home yesterday. The day I left to go to Virginia and NYC, MC Raz left a little Rainbow Connection with he and Mr. Paul Williams. How spectacularly sweet and too thoughtful for words. Sometimes I don't know what to do with myself when it comes to that kid and his giving, his talents, his super sensitive side and his great laugh. He is my favorite person ever. He is my Kermit the Frog in the flesh not Muppet. What's even more interesting, I think of him an awful lot because he is such a force in my life, but this trip, I didn't listen to a lot of his stuff as I normally would and it was just kind of interesting that he would do that the day I drove out to Va. Ah, timing. The radio got the music bid for the trip out. I must say the top three stations consistantly through the trip were country, Rap/Hip Hop/new R&B, and the evangelist/Jesus people. That was the first Chicago to Va road trip without cigs. Turning the dial helped with the fidgety behavior. Road trips rule.

WEST HO!

Every once in a while I get these extraordinary epiphanies that make me feel incredibly small. The more I think about venturing out west, the more I feel it's just for me and not a career path move. Call me selfish, but I'm almost sick of hearing other people's stories (tornado victims, myspace heroes, joe schmoe bloggers, etc) and it's making me not want to put my shit out there even though I have two blogs and am continuing to think about stand up. I definitely want to move west and it may be sooner than April if things work out, but the more I delve in my head about the subject of "the business" in any capacity, I'd rather be around real people than people of the industries. Don't get me wrong, I love show bidness, but to immerse myself in it to do the same thing that millions of other people are doing brings hives to my neck. I can't get over the competition aspect of performing. It all becomes a test and I am a horrific test taker. I remember in elementary school my best friend Danny and I were put in the principal's office or something to take a "smart" test. Fuck if I knew what it was because I couldn't pay attention long enough to grasp the concept. Apparently, I wasn't a gifted child and I have long since accepted that, but in all honesty, the lack of competition and self confidence was never present. Something happened and I stopped feeling confident enough to grab the bull by the horns and go after the things that I want. Whatever everybody else wants to do is fine as long as we're all going and having a good time. Now it's just me. I'm fine with that because it sure does cost less, but for the most part, I am the only single of my close friends. I've been waiting for this to start happening and the circle around me just got tighter. There are several positives along with the usual negatives and I have been doing a tremendous job with not feeling like a third wheel. The benefits include, but not limited to are some free meals, good company, and a change of scenery. One of the uncomfortable aspects of this is the unintentional pity. Believe you me, I'd love to have a significant man in my life, but at this point that might be the only thing that is a major force in my ability to travel with no strings. I was just stag at a wedding two weeks ago and I have another with the same accompaniment in just about a week. I've never been asked to go a wedding with a man except a roommate situation, nor have I been asked to dance at a wedding other than by friends. Ohhhh whoa is me. This sounds so cliche, awesome. The bottom line is that these occurrences are fun, exciting, and super helpful to put happy times and super people in my head. It was helpful to visit with some of the most amazing friends in NYC a week ago. I am truly blessed (yes, it is a blessing to have wonderful friends, family, and health) to have these people in my life and though it can't always be full of visits like it was this year, it has been awesome.

NOTE: This has been sitting as a draft for a few weeks adding a few points today and it sure is apparent that I continue to have the same junk swimming in my head. Clarity is approaching, I can feel it.

Veg - it

When I become a vegetarian, I reserve the right to have special occasions. I'll say it now, yes indeed, I know the stomach problems that will ensue once my body becomes acclimated to the true herbivore lifestyle. The reason I allow it is to see if indeed, Dr Allen Carr knows what he's talking about in his book The EASYWEIGH to Lose Weight. This book requires more than the single week The EASYWAY to Stop Smoking took because there isn't just one thing I'm letting go of right away. Right now the best piece of meat I've ever devoured was a piece of Fillet Mignon from Morton's in No VA. The most delectable piece of beef I've ever had and there are not many meals that I can pinpoint favorites per se. Granted the Chipotle steak bowl with no beans will now have to be beans with no steak. Legumes. I spent part of yesterday repeating that word as if to get used to it in my vocab. Legumes. <produces repeated chuckles> It occurred to me that eating meat has always sicked me out somehow, but I just thought it was normal and focused on the end taste as opposed to the process of the presentation. It makes no good sense to have meat cooked, seasoned, and presented in such a way and now to be told that it's all false and incredibly hard to digest. Mind you, I judge not and I love meat, but I have had such a change of heart about meat and yes, I'm reading a book on weight loss after reading a book on how to stop smoking (9 wks and counting) with no regrets. To each his own for sure and yet, I totally agree with this man in all aspects of his teachings. More people who don't know these instructions should read his works. I can not believe that I stopped smoking and feel so far detached from being a smoker that I almost forget that I was one. I hope the same for meat. It is going to be a process. It is going to be interesting, too, as eventually I will weed out dairy. If it works, let it be for the best. I shared a wonderful feast with two good friends the other evening and they prepared scrumptious vegetarian dishes to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. It is dedication to cook vegetarian and though I missed most of the cooking and prep process, knowing them and knowing how much they love to cook leads me to believe that it is worth the process for them. If you don't like or don't know the first thing about cooking, get a cookbook and start learning. Today was the last home game for the White Sox and I had got a seat in the bleachers. The day was perfect. Perfect for baseball, perfect for last game, and perfect for multiple tiny reasons. First off, to be able to drive to the game is awesome and know where to park in non-permit zones is great. Not minding the walk from that parking spot, even better, and getting to the game early. Some bumps, but things that certainly didn't damper anything. First bump was that I forgot to put deodorant on, but the weather turned out cooler and I kept my arms slammed against my sides while I walked. The seat was wet and I had meant to bring a Sox towel with me, but I didn't so it was good that I had picked up extra napkins. I had told myself that I would be getting a bratwurst to celebrate the end of eating meat with the Sox and I subconsciously bought a veggie burger and a pretzel. Crazy. I had already made the decision and my body and mind are almost in sync.

Magless

It has been said that everyone is different, yet, we all, in one way or another, buy into the same stuff. I say I hate Tom Cruise and could give two poops about his kid, but as soon as I saw her, I wanted to buy the fucking magazine (so I looked at every web page that had the tiny pic to find out she's too cute to be his kid). Buying magazines used to be my purpose in life among other useless talents. I collect, therefore I am a pack rat. Man. Everything from 16 to Teen Beat and Rolling Stone to Vanity Fair (which ended the month before Suri) has kept me way caught up on the most useless of all information. It makes no difference that I have the 16 mag from 1989 with The Monkees on it. I don't really, but did however; I wouldn't buy it a second time. Even when constructing the Russell Crowe montage, I bought two of every mag, and some of those were international, more than $3 a piece. Crazy. Pointless. I only read a small percentage of the mags an even smaller percentage of actually reading the whole thing. In fact, off hand, nowadays Rolling Stone and Radar are the only mags I remember reading for more than just what cute dudes were featured. Too bad Radar only lasted 3 (?) issues. It was pretty cool. Not cool however to give them $40 for two years of mags. That is the #1 reason I have not renewed any subscriptions. I am fathomed by the amount of money I spent on mags as a child let alone as an adult. Not candy; fucking magazines. Mostly to cut up and put on my wall. Of course I could give a shit about Kurt Cameron or Becca's boyfriend from Life Goes On. Gimme more Ralph Macchio and of course NKOTB. I still keep the montage of Russell on the wall and only as of late have I thought of selling it. What we sell when we need the money because the things we are selling are what caused us to need more money. I sure wish I could ebay that dang Monkees' 16 mag. That might could bring in some dizzzzough.

Selfish Cliches

What happened is fitting, really. I've been trying to better myself emotionally and physically without becoming self absorbed or overly selfish. It's a tough call sometimes. Now, I totally understand people who have kids and they have virtually no time outside the kids let alone time with their spouse or themselves. I have so much time to myself that I don't know what to do so I get stoned. Well, now that we have removed one vice the third less active vice gets to step up (#1 food, #2 pot, #3 sex). The cig vice removal has led way to a new confidence and more productive side to me that I thought lay dormant. I can be quite productive. This new level is allowing me to forget important dates even though I was thinking about it every day until 3 days before because some fucking friend had issues that distracted me. No excuses. I can't fucking believe I forgot my brother's 40th birthday. I am a terrible sibling, but we're all terrible. We rarely talk on the phone. The brother that turned 40, Matt, and I get along really well. We talk more than either of us talk to our other sister and brother. I feel terrible and to add insult, I ordered him Allen Carr's Easy Way to get him going on the next course of his life. It didn't seem righteous sending him the book then, but now it seems just a touch on the preachy side. Oh well, he can throw the book at me later. I hope he takes it as good intent and not me soapboxing out on him. In light of the change in my attitude, lifestyle, and healing process, I was able to handle something that would have probably been a blow not too long ago. The last 3 years has been witness to a long distance affair. I wish it had been a little more romantic, but that may have complicated it even more. The cost stars were his girlfriend and my low self esteem. My bad for continuing from my end as I made it clear that what was happening was morally unacceptable, but it didn't seem that much of a concern for him at the time. Well, this week, it matters. As strangely dissappointed I am about the rejection, and pissed off about the one sided sexual acts (and I worked pretty hard for him), I'm proud of him and hope that I find a man who has reached the morality level that he may have since experiencing this change. It was very selfish of him to take advantage of me, but I let him do it. I should have ended it a long time ago, but I felt like at least I had him wanting me. So sad to feel that way about someone who has been more selfish about it all along. Oh, he made sure that I climaxed, if I could participate, I made sure that I wouldn't fake it, because that is something else I won't do and of course I tried to get him off as well (sometimes even when I couldn't participate). Fitting because I forgot my brother's fn 40th birthday and I got fucked and "dumped" (quotes because it really wasn't a dumping, but then again it was a 3 year affair- even though it's only a girlfriend) in a rather selfish manner. I know it, he knows it, and now you know it. Damn, I worked the shit out of his cock! I'm still thinking about it, want to get off on it, and it reminds me that I'm mad about it. You fucking douchebag! Holy crap. For this, I am curling up and watching a Leave it to Beaver marathon with my newly arrived 1st season DVD.

EASY WAY

As it were, I stopped smoking cigarettes just over 5 weeks ago. I don't specifically know why I haven't mentioned it here until now since it has been on my mind constantly. Constantly in a way that makes me want to share and preach the word of Allen Carr and his method that has cured/helped/inspired millions of people worldwide on the struggles of us smokers and now non-smokers alike. Stopping has changed my life. I used to think it was only the other smoke that put me in the lowest place I could go: sloth. It was not the THC, but the nicotine. Now, I'm not saying that the smoke smoke don't slow me down a bit cuz it do, but what I let cigarettes do to me is what brought on the inner sloth. It was agreed that once I started smoking in this apartment, I'd only smoke in the front room. Then as prices went up I decided that when I smoke a cigarette, I'd smoke the cig and only smoke the cig. I wouldn't do anything while I smoked it so that I could enjoy it since it would be about an hour before I'd let myself have another. The next phase of this sloth brought me into the time of avoiding all things that kept me from smoking except my day job and I barely smoked during the 9-5 slot. It was the nighttime. The time when I could get away from my job and let my thoughts go numb by the TV and drift into Whatamigonnabewhenigrowland. I had made a promise to myself that when I turned 30 that I'd be done with cigarettes. I couldn't do it. I thought about it constantly, but I just said that I would deal with it the next day and so on until I turned 30 and was smoking at the ballpark still not ready to give it up. I finally got to a point 5 weeks ago that led me to realize I couldn't afford it now nor afford it in the next couple months. I bit the bullet, bought the book, and I can't tell you just how awesome I feel in so many different ways. I've had to deal with a few blows this week and I haven't once thought about needing or even wanting a cigarette. I still support smokers because we all are entitled to choices no matter what they be.

Out of Season

Virtually nothing about my day job is fulfilling, positive, or challenging (other than headache challenging). There are few things other than a handful of people that put a smile on my face in that cube. One of the other things that brings smiles is music, specifically, Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride. Last Christmas, my father gave his children a compilation of his favorite Xmas tunes and that is the only holiday music I have on the work media player. It is a delight to hear, say, ACDC then all of a sudden you hear those trumpets. Bah booodala doo doo, bah boodaladoo, etc. I can't help, but shake it out with a big ol' smile.

I'm currently creating a list of all the songs I want men to dedicate to me. I think they will appreciate my excellent taste in music and it will increase their desire to dedicate more songs to me. Almost like a challenge, like 'here's one you haven't thought of' and I'm fine with that. In fact, it's actually helping me to gain respect for myself and for future men that know what an incredibly awesome lady I would be for them and in general. Here's to my slow returning self confidence and tomorrow's softball games!

It lasted for 30 mins. At 8:59 it began, or at least that's when I noticed the steady banging. At first it may have been them getting busy in the living room and it kept stopping like they realized they were making noise, but the inconsistant banging continued for 30 mins. After changing rooms, still able to hear it, and waiting 30 mins, my balls dropped and I marched right upstairs and knocked on their door. No one responded, but they were talking and at one point I heard her giggle so I knocked again only louder and she answered. She has the nicest smile and it's so big that I feel terrible telling them to shut the fuck up. Here, for months I've been cussing them out, I will avoid them at all costs so that I don't say anything mean or stupid or even start to like them. I almost enjoy the hatred and being the elusive neighbor. I ran into them the other day as they were coming back from running. We had a nice little chat. Seeing them I'm pretty sure one would think they had been running since they had no equipment and they were wicked sweaty, but still maybe I shouldn't blurt out their activities so that they know I was watching them jog away. If they weren't so loud I wouldn't care, but when they leave, I want to see if they look like they'll be a while so I can get some quality quiet instead of false alarm 1/2 block away and right back again bs. So tonight, they were both really sweet again and damnit, that pisses me off. I can't believe I went up there, but it was perfect since he really was hammering as he was putting their new dresser together. Did I mention how cute they both are? Just precious. Damnit. It just makes it so hard to tell them they are being loud and now I feel bad when I'm angry and annoyed about the noise. The most frustrating part about it is that it almost seems like they had no clue how loud he was being. She had mentioned once that she was deaf, but seems to speak pretty well, so I dunno. At least I said something and they've been relatively quiet since. Hopefully, I looked stressed out and not like I was about to punch them both in the face at the same time. I was nice, but I showed genuine distress as though it was really hard for me to tell them to shut the fuck up. So nice to stop. I even told them that I just needed a ballpark so that I could work around them since I actually had a writing assignment to complete. The only night this week I'm home and work has been busy and annoying. But I accomplished two big things confidence wise tonight: confronting and commiting. I confronted a problem that I was having and it worked out without them throwing back any problems they have with me. He was putting together a dresser and volunteered to stop for the night which was super cool of him. I also completed a task for a deadline and though not my finest work, I think I did pretty ok.

Jewbaleeeee Softball

Super duper. Tonight was the first night I announced for the all men softball teams. I had no idea it would be all men. I'm so OK with that, in fact, so OK with it, that I wish it were more than one day a week. I'm the only girl in a sea of mostly beautiful Jewish men in their upper 20s. Even if I have no chance with any of them, my eye candy fulfillment has just hit the jackpot. SO nice. It's was so fun. I'm not the swiftest when it comes to scoring, announcing (Jewlicious) names and ad libbing on the first try. I'll admit, I'm a little on the awkward side, but once I can get a grasp on a rhythm and muscle memory, I should do just fine and make some friends in the process. As the first names were given to me, all I could think of was, 'Oh, shit, I'm gonna botch the snot out their names.' I even went so far during the last game to say, 'I'm gonna need to brush on my Jew names' forgetting that Kevin may not be cool with the new girl throwin' the 'Jew' detail out there, but then he supported my initial thought in saying that about 80% of the dudes playing are Jewish. uhm, score. Not that I'm yearning to be a shiksa, but some of the absolute nicest boys and least superficial gents that I have ever met have been Jewish. That's nice. You may hear more about this weekly. What an absolute treat this has brought to my boring life. Even if I don't meet anyone significant, I'm already having a blast.

SOY

Shame on you. Shame on you for not responding. Shame on you for not responding after you saw my picture. Shame on me for feeling super confident after we conversed emailily (new word) and not having thick enough skin to deal with the rejection. You fucking douchebag. And to think, I was gonna put my mouth on your cock. Huh. I can't believe I was so naive (again) to think that answering an ad out of the blue would once again be uncomfortable. I don't like the 'answering ads' or 'posting personals' on the internet or even in the newspaper for that matter. Not that I think there's anything wrong with it and I think it's great that people find the connections there and some that really work and survive. I believe I become more attractive the better you know me, but when it comes to these personals, I just can't get a hit. I even offered up my best services because he was upfront enough to ask for it in a non-pornographic way. Not saying that pornography is bad, but for me, that's something to bring up later after you know each other a bit. Up front right away for me signals that it's more important than a relationship. This guy asked for a decent BJ. Since recently getting out of a long term relationship and wanted a good blow, I was like 'Hell, I've been told I have a gift' and almost felt like it was a little destined that I happen to look at the misc personals on craigs for only the 2nd time in all the time I've perused. Well, as it is, third time is hoping to be the charm. I will post my own ad somewhere probably craigs cuz I ain't payin' for no datin' service. I have already decided what I will be saying, but I'm going to wait until I have another affair next week. It's not really an affair as he is not married, but indeed, they have a commitment and he is obviously needing something else. I would be the desperate fool in this tormented act of carnal secrecy. He likes keeping me a secret. I have not kept it a secret because I have a big fat mouth which is why I'm great at BJs (douchebag!) This will only be the 2nd time for our actually physically doing the deed as opposed to phone calls, somewhat obsessive on his side, but I kinda like it and he'll keep calling since I won't answer. A few times I let him go for so long that he almost gave up or at least that's what he said on the message, so I'd call him back. Got to keep him hanging he's all I got left. That's not how I really feel, but it seems kind of weird that I'm still hanging on to him and he to me. He calls too often for it to be casual. We don't just have phone sex, we actually talk about what's going on in each other's lives. He actually calmed me down on the way back from CA in April. He knows me really only by phone and some class time (old instructor), but was able to settle me down when I was freaking out about my flight being canceled. I grow concerned because he is in LA and when I make my way out there, I just wonder what will become of us. Comfortably I could go either way. I don't know that we could just remain friends because he so used to talking to me about certain things and sometimes in a certain way, so I leave it up the gods. In the meantime, I shall place a personal ad on craigs and it will be confident and honest and hopefully three will bring the charm. Cheers to all the non-douches!

Honkity HOnk honk

As it were, I am awkward, insecure, and uncomfortable with myself. Clearly I don't need any additional agents to increase the general problems I burden on myself. Driving is my stress reliever and my rage engager. Coming from my usual bi-monthly Saturday night jaunt to Trader Joe's, there was a douchebag who clearly forgot he was driving and just stopped. In response I blew my horn and (safely) drove around him. As I kept driving I wondered, 'Who's honking?' as there was no one behind me or even next to me for that matter. The horn continued for a block and a half before I realized, indeed, it was my horn. I began pressing the steering wheel where the horn is located, but nothing, so I started punching it and that only worked for a second. I even pulled over to turn the car off hoping it would help, but no. As I pulled over I could hear people telling my car to shut up. I even yelled back at a girl to tell her it was a short and that I was sorry. And the dude that pulled over for me because I must have been honking at him because clearly I was in a hurry and would continue to honk unless he moved. You can't explain a short in your horn, they only assume you're a douche. Any hand and/or arm gestures can only be some sort of mafia "whattyagonnadoaboutmehonkin'" gesture. It stopped on my block. I unloaded the groceries out of the car and shut the door which made the horn start right back up. Once again, I punched the steering wheel to get it to stop and it did. It started up about 20 mins later and I had to go back outside to deal with it. How does one handle this? Is it considered an emergency? Can roadside assistance disengage your horn? Is this one of those occurrences when AAA comes to your aid or do you risk your car getting egged over night?

In Reference to SVIH

It has been a most trying time since dealing with the neighbor upstairs. I am thankful or at least try to be thankful every day for being in a better place in my head to deal with such annoyances regularly. It is a daily basis that I am consitantly annoyed, jolted, and disregarded by my neighbor SVIH. Today, however, in an effort to relieve this emotion in a way that only passive aggressive folks can, I wrote something as close to a poem that I have written since '89 (about NKOTB). I have repeatedly told myself that I'd march up there and either scream at them after listening to it for a few hours or try to diplomatically confront them before the noise begins for the evening. I have since done nothing except yell and ask rhetorical questions to the ceiling. The main reason I won't confront is because my paranoia has set in and I think that they can smell the doobage smoke that escapes my apartment and wouldn't want them to throw that in my face if, in fact, they have a problem with it let alone actually smelling it. I am given about 15 mins a day to have complete (city apt living) silence. That silence is 10 mins between them leaving for work and me leaving for work in the am and 5 for when I get home before they do. Hardly time to do anything, but maybe take a shit and a half. I will now do my best to draw on the frustration and the behavior that I have towards this annoyance so I may establish an inspiration for creativity. This blogging has ignited a different writing flame that I needed before. Just today, I've had 2 inspirations that should have been realized long ago. I only hope that it is not in vain. I like writing more now than I did before and I used to write every day, but didn't take it as seriously as I should've been from the beginning. I am reading a lot more as well and I would like to share an article from the NY Times that made my hairy ass very excited for fashion since bell bottoms made comeback. ~~ However, the link is not publishing. whatever. The article is on the comeback of bushy eyebrows.

SVIH

She vacuums in heels. She vacuums in heels on a hardwood floor above her neighbor. She vacuums on hardwood floors above her neighbor while her boyfriend moves to a different room once she is ready for the room he has moved to, apparently. She didn't get to the kitchen until last on purpose to play a game with her boyfriend and he likes the game so he isn't even remotely annoyed unlike the poor neighbor who sits and listens to their noise long enough to decipher the activities and emotions that are being displayed on the other side of her ceiling.

Inevitable

I realized the second thing that I had been resisting is the next step in the relearning of myself. I am a feminist. Not a Neo-Nazi one, but a genuine woman that believes that woman can do great things and don't necessarily need their man to pay for it. So I guess that's the socio-feminist that I keep hearing about, but can't find a straight up definition. A wonderful friend of mine has recently published her long awaited novel (Three Fallen Women by Amy Guth http://www.guthagogo.com/) She has introduced me to the socio-femist type of women's greatness. Truly inspiring. Her journey has made me think about things a little more heavily. It would be nice, but at this point, no man wants to take me to dinner regularly. I am now getting angry. I'm not just hurt, continuously, but I am jerked around. I understand this is normal for the most part and SOOOOO many woman go thru this and it is constantly complained about and ranted and screamed about, but damnit, I'm a good chick. I give great head, I would rather go to a baseball game than get jewelry and I like to have a good laugh. It makes me so crazy that this dude that I had relations with a few months back says to me that I don't call, well, when you say you're gonna call me, I agree to wait for you to call. By you saying, 'I'll give you a call' I feel you mean, 'Don't call me, I'll call you' type of thing and leave it at that. The other day we spoke for a bit for the first time in a while. He was giving me shit about not calling him then two male co-workers walked up and both extended a greeting to me and I returned it and the dude's reaction screamed 'jealous boyfriend'. 'Who are they?', he said so accusingly. Fuck you, tiny dick guy! Just because I say hello to two dudes has nothing to do with you and I and what we did several months ago and even if I did lay them both (which is not the case), who the fuck are you to judge me?! I don't ask if you've been with a white woman, nor do I ask if you're fucking women every night since last we did. I can't care. You're not my boyfriend even though I've put it out there that it's ok if you want to be my boyfriend, but after you dissed me today to speak to other chicks, you get none of my good piece. Guess who gets my good piece? The dude I've been having phone sex with for three years who lives in LA, but he'll be visiting in a couple weeks. I am becoming bitter, superficial, and really anti-men and women right now. I bet my neighbor is sweet as pie, but because I live below her and hear her every blessed move above me, I hate her and won't even attempt to get to know her out of spite. I heard her laugh again today and just wanted to run up the stairs, push her boyfriend out of the way and punch her right in the face. Then I want to take her fucking heels and shove them so far up her ass that she will only be able to walk on the balls of her feet. I hate girls. I really fucking hate girls. Not the girls who hate girls (and you know who you are), but the ever giggling, hookerlike dressed, bitch that needs her man to go shopping at Nordstroms with her when clearly he is bored out of his mind. Why would you make your mate do something so retarded? That proves that you are a bitch and you give not two shits about what they want to do, but what you want them to do with you even if it means boring the living snot out of them. I don't want to be bitter, but I am feeling a little uneasy about becoming the woman who never married and kept getting cats to keep her company. I don't want the marriage or the kids right now, but I sure could use a dude asking me out for a walk or even meeting for the free movies in the park. I don't want to die bitter and angry at the male race, but it's becoming more inevitable that I, too, will be donning some military fatique capri pants and a matching green wife beater.

You be the judge of CNN

Keeping up with the headlines is something that I've been more concious of since 9/11 let alone being a comedian. CNN seemed to me as the most trusted source in overall news. I have been more shocked and embarrassed as of late due to the so called headlines that they so blatantly display, i.e. Paris getting bit by her illegal pet kingkadinkadumbasswhatever and this new Britney video. what the FUCK???!!!!! This girl has more free time and money than any of us paycheck to paycheckers will see in a lifetime and I am subjected to hearing her sorry ass belch and talk a load of nonesense instead of hearing about why the Public School system continues to hire people because they go to church with so and so. I believe it is time for Britney to get sentenced to public service. And BTW, Paris has no idea what the absolute meaning of celebacy is and she and Brit should get together on that topic to maybe put their own version of the term in Wikipedia.

I understand the slow news day and that fillers need to be added for such times, but then maybe add some not-so-Iraq or Hezbollah news to the mix. How about a countdown to when Bush will no longer be our president.

Pops

(NOTE:::::: I LOVE MY FATHER FOR WHO HE IS NO MATTER HOW MEAN THIS BLOG!!!!!!!!!)After a long day of touristing, baseballing with my dad, and the three martinis he downed when we got home at 11:30pm, I told my dad that he didn't believe in me (among some other things). He had just announced that he was going to hit the hay and we started arguing over something I don't remember at this time since I partook in some doobage not caring if he smelled it coming out of my room. And it's not like he doesn't know. Whatever. This is why I broke into hives this week. I knew I was going to have to have a talk with him about his behavior in public i.e. unintentional racial slurs. He doesn't mean to be a racist, but his comedy can be so not tactful. Last year we were getting out of the train station on the Southide of Chicago at Sox/35th and there was a break in the crowd when a larger African American gentleman walked across our path about 30 ft in front of us. What does pops do? Says kinda under his breath, but not really because he's losing his hearing, "Hey, hey, hey!" I just walked away from him because at that point that was third in a series of the inappropriate speaking. What was good about that talk is that it came up on it's own after he said something stupid and I started in on him (on the train picking him up from O'Hare!) and he quickly retaliated with almost an apology, but more like 'he knows', type of thing and that he'll be better about those. Since I've lived here, he has visited three times and it's usually pleasant, filled with baseball, and feeling like a 12 yr old kid. Now that may seem fine to some, but part of the reason for starting therapy again is why I feel like a 12 yr old now and whenever I spend time with my dad. I've been pretty blatant in my opinions on certain things ie the Catholic Church and the hemp/doobage this visit. This visit has been good since he is listening to me a little more. He'll make a judgement on someone and I would correct him in saying that people are people and so forth and though he still interrupts my sentences with jokes, one liners, or the need to finish up my babbling, he has become a better listener. He made a reference to everyone having to believe in the Christian God and I quickly insisted he know that not everyone believes in God the way he or any Catholic does and that I have fallen away from the church. He'll yield because he doesn't want to pay attention long enough to hear the point so he can make a joke. Oy. We started talking about The Da Vinci Code and how he won't read it. Why? Because he's a devout Catholic and has no interest in reading something so scandalous or as he said, "It's based on some fact and fiction. ???!!!! He'll never remarry and possibly thinks my mother to be a sinner for marrying someone else. He believes if divorced, which is heinous (not like surfer heinous) in itself, one won't remarry. I don't understand the concept, but after observing his behavior over the last 11 yrs and reanalyzing his behavior before that, it might be best for him not to remarry. He's content on his own, but did vocalize the dislike of being the third wheel which struck a cord with me and I think I had actually brought it up. I'm dealing with that little issue much better as of late. I realized it's my own insecurities and the stupid fratdicks aboooooooooooot. My father, on the other hand, just thinks it plain old sucks. SOOO many things I get from him and it almost makes me mad that now, I have to deal with all his goofy DNA. I'm uncovering a whole lot of stuff now in therapy. He is indeed an alcoholic (much like Mom), not a "bad" one (meaning abusive), but indeed one just the same. He went all day without so much as a beer at the ballgame (all four games) and when we got back he slammed down three martinis in about 20 mins so in no time he was beligerant and swaying. I have virtually nothing against drinking accept the beligerance and the drinking and driving. It's just not appealing to me on a daily basis and it costs too much when I can buy a bag of dope for $80 and it'll last at least 3 weeks. I wish I could remember what we were arguing about, but it doesn't matter because I couldn't get into the "you don't believe in me" remark while he was drunk so I sent him on to bed and we haven't spoken of it since. He leaves tomorrow and we've had a good time going to the baseball games and such. I feel a little bad because I've snapped at him a few times and I'm a total bitch for those times, but that's me and I've been dealing with him and his pissing down the front of my toilet bowl. Ugh. whatever. Point being I've been dealing with a little more OCD junk while he's been here and it makes me a little more nervous of WTF am I gonna do when I get married (if I get married). I can't even go into this as apparently I am premenstrual - awesome. Now all two of you who read this will know my menstrual cycle.

And back again

This delay reminds me of what I used to do with my journals. I got to a point where only bad things were happening, so I stopped writing in my journal until good things happened and there were weeks and months between entries. Needlesstosay, what I thought was bad times were not really that bad as life will hand you more unpleasantness as we move forward. Most of my journal entries pre college were clearly about boys. That's probably why I stopped because boys are the bane of my existence. I recently stopped smoking cigarettes and in doing so, I have found a little more self confidence and a little more drive to be out in public. As it were, (almost) each public appearance I have made has brought me back to junior high feeling insecure, fat, and unattractive. I know it's all the same as Susie the fat girl's story from beyond, but I should be at a point in my adult life where this shit doesn't hurt me. Yet, it continuously hurts my feelings and makes me not want to leave my home. These occurrences, mind you, may have been all conjured up in my head, but for what it's worth, I'm not retarded, I know code words, hand gestures, and the change in someone's volume and or pitch while conversing and/or joking with their fellow fratdick. In the next few months, I will be making a major change in my life i.e. moving to LA. With my many body issues, I have been warned that LA may not be the best place for me to deal with my insecurities and my disdain for the people who are "on" all the time may be in full force, but this can not stop me. Again, I should be over all this shit and I should be able to embrace the gifts that I have been given. The problem being is the lack of knowledge I have to distinguish what exactly those gifts are and how to use them in a career advantageous way. For this reason, I am still where I am and knew I'd need a little more time to get myself closer to a place that I feel will help me move forward instead of thinking I could just get over it and move to LA right them when the opportunity hit. I am moving into a bit of doubt because I didn't take the chance right then, but people have spent money on reservations and banked on seeing me here in Chicago, so I stayed. Somedays I wish I had just gone cuz it's just dragging on and though I've made progress, I feel that the frat boys will continuously make chubby, unattractive girls feel so useless and unwanted that I may be wanted for murder before I get a chance to share my gifts.