Jason Reitman, BE MY FRIEND!!!

*sigh*

I'm a little keyed up this morning. But in a fun and exuberant way.
I'm flying out tomorrow, leaving the state for the first time since this time last year, have 4 cups of coffee in me, nothing to do at my office job and I've checked both of my emails an obscene number of times. I'm beyond stoked about the impending DK 4.0 (name pending) as it's going to be chaos and calamity of the highest and most entertaining order. And then while on MySpace, aimlessly trolling, I saw that one of my very favorite directors, Jason Reitman, was in the Featured Film-Makers section. I looked at his page and... he totally uses that thing, and after hearing him talk at the Juno screening through Creative Screenwriting Magazine (yay Jeff!), I decided I liked him even more. Not just as a wonderful writer/director, but because he seems like a freaking cool guy. Then I read his blog and seems to have mentioned, while he was on the road, going to some local shows.

Hence, this is my new request.

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, I want Jason Reitman to be my friend. And I want him to come see DK 4.0 (name pending) and I want him to bring Diablo Cody. Then I want her to be my friend. Then I want all my friends to get to be in their movies. Then we'll all be friends and dance around in a big happy circle of creativity and laughter.

And an agent. And a new cellphone too. That would be pretty sweet.

But mostly, I want Jason Reitman to be my friend.

Love sincerely,
Dana DeRuyck

PS: I also want a pony.

That's me, getting into the spirit of the holidays.
For now, I'll settle for being MySpace friends.

Dreams dashed before I dared to dream

(OK, so maybe THAT's a bit melodramatic.)

So I went to see Hollywood Trash play at the Los Angeles Derby Dolls championship gam last night. They sounded great, another band (Jessie Deluxe) also rocked out, and the match was thrilling from start to finish.

While watching those bad-ass chicks whipping around the rink as I thought up potential Derby Doll names for myself (Dana-mite? Carol Burn It? Skate Crime? <= Matt's), I thought "Man, I wanna do that! If only I were tougher and better at skating." Then, the announcer rattled off something about how they allow prospective new chicks come in and try their hand at the Derby life during the week. I was ecstatic. Right when I got home, I looked up the Derby Dolls page for more info.
This is what I found

I am missing a crucial element, apparently.

Nevermind that I can be a bit of a cupcake.
Nevermind that I'm not a great skater.

Health insurance.
Bane of my existence.

It makes sense though. I mean, it's a violent fucking sport and they don't have the funds to cover anyone. Plus, it's pretty damn likely that you or someone else is going to get hurt. They don't want anyone to get into trouble, including them, so it's a totally valid policy.

Still bums me out though.
Ah well. Better go find something else in the apartment to paint.

SPICE NUTS

*to the Batman theme*

duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Spice nuts!
duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Spice nuts!
Spice nuts!
SPICE NUTS!

...
I'm sitting at work, bored and caffinated, eating the Casablanca Trek Mix from Trader Joe's which I am now referring to as... well, you know...

Duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
Spice nuts!!!!!

"I'm so-oo-o tired, my mind is on the brink..."

I've been achy for the last couple days too. Part of it, I'm blaming on sitting hunched over the new throw pillows I made (which are truly superfuckinsweet). However this is too much achiness. I keep sleeping funny too. Grrr.

I am, in truth, all kinds of busy these days. I have a play opening in (goddammit) 12 days, a showcase in a few weeks, the Best of DK show upcoming, one of my jobs just offered me another regular day (which I accepted), another job I've been having to stave off booking shifts, my parents are coming to town at the end of the month and, oh yeah, I'm moving. PS Matt and Greg. Looked at my planner yesterday and realized, Oh yeah, I need to get on that. Yikes.

Looking at my schedule... I thought I was going to have all kinds of time this month. Now it turns out that I, well, DON'T.

And I have to paint my pretty room. *sigh* That honestly just breaks my heart.

One of those days

Not the bad type!

No, it's one of those days where I really wish I could hang out outside. Today it's about 60 degrees and cloudy south of the hill and right now, I wish I could grab a cup of coffee, a light sweater and go hang out on the beach. THIS is my idea of a good beach day. When there is wind splashing the water around and you get a good sea breeze blowing straight into your face. The kind of day where you feel like you're on a boat in the middle of the ocean with all the security of being on land.

Nope. I'm at work. *fart noise*

Near crisis in my Material World

This is so stupid I had to tell someone.

So last Tuesday I left a pair of earrings at Matt and Greg's that I had taken off because I was hula-hooping. (Note to self: get a hula-hoop.) I picked them up the next time I was over there and put them into the little inner pocket of my purse. You know the one: the one where anything you don't want readily available to the first person you ask to grab your keys. Tampons, condoms, anything vagina related, oftentimes cold medicine, band-aids, etc. The point is, that's where I put my earrings.

Let me say right now that I have a bad habit of losing earrings. I don't lose both of them, I only ever lose one. And it's usually from a pair I really like and wear all the time. So since I love that stupid earring, I can't get rid of it and it goes into my craft bag/single-earring-graveyard until I can find a way to keep it with me.

The earrings I put into my purse were, without a doubt, my very favorites. Big blue circles of shell, kind of shiny and sparkly but never over the top. I get compliments on them nearly every time I wear them. These are my go-to earrings in a pinch. So of course, when I went to fish them out about half an hour ago and I found ONE... I was displeased.

I refused to believe it. Not a-fucking-gain.
Even though I was at work, I pulled all my unmentionables out into my lap, praying that the moving guys carting the piano upstairs would not come in to ask me anything right at this moment.
But it wasn't there.
Shit. Shit shit shit.

Now here's something you need to know about my purse: it eats things. No, really. It wasn't until I couldn't find my wallet but felt it in my enourmous bag that I discovered the giant hole in the lining. I pulled out the hair pomade I thought I lost, about $2 in change and pens that I kept accusing people of stealing. This was the first place I went to looking for the earring.
Nope.
FUCK.
I pulled everything out of my purse. My purse is the size of some people's backpacks, so that's a lot of stuff.
Nowhere.
It was about this point that I actually began to panic. These weren't anything that I could replace. I got them at some store in Canada that I was probably never going to see again. I'd already cursed the day that I didn't buy every color they had of these earrings. More than that, I really liked them. I started getting way too worked up about the earrings. In a fit of refusal to let them go, I made a huge sweep in the underlining of my purse, feeling around every square inch of available space.
And there it was. A little worse for wear, stuck underneath the bottom-most interior of my bag. But there.

I need to keep better track of my earrings.
And maybe, just maybe, I need a smaller purse.

Gettin' that old "consumer" feeling all over again.

Maybe I can pin this on Greg. He keeps talking about new clothes and stuff and it's making me go, "Awwwwwwwww, I want new clothes too!" But it doesn't stop there, mostly because I won't allow myself to go shopping in this condition (heaven forbid I come home with a full new outfit). I browsed around online at stuff, gradually scaling down to the "sale" category items. That was when things took a whole new turn. Apartment goods.

With the possibility of an impending move lurking in my head, I can't help but a) take inventory of what I have and b) figure out what I need to get while c) discovering many things I don't need, could use but can't afford. Ah, the most depressing category. But at least with these there's no real danger of me buying them.

Alas, then I begin to plot out cheap items that I need (good Dana) in addition to things that are of no real consequence but don't cost much either (back on track, cowgirl!). This category is why IKEA is so damn dangerous. If you don't go in there with a list on a search and destroy mission, you are coming out with a set of Fler candles and holders ($4.99) or the Slatthult wall decals ($15.99), nay, or both!

But this sets me on maybe the most dangerous track of all: trying to make my apartment look cool without having to pay too much. Which will inevitably end up costing more than I expect and taking up large tracts of time as I sew pillows out of some damn Swedish fabric inexplicably named Belinda, affordably priced at $3.99 a yard.

I better just buy those fucking $10 shoes and get it over with.

You know, just in case.

Been reading a few issues of Entertainment Weekly that I've been neglecting and you know, they're making me think.

Oh, no, not in a relevatory, life-changing, "what am I doing with my life/career?" type of way. No no no. EW, as much as I love it, doesn't generate that kind of thought. Except that Chris Nashawaty article on Jackie Earle Haley. Seriously.

Anyhow, I was reading all these articles where celebrities are like, "Oh I'm really into this right now and this book/author is absolutely tops and I can't live without this food and this is my favorite album ever."
And it got me thinking.
Well, first it got me thinking "Oooh, what would I say if I were famous and being asked about my favorite things?" And I was eating these Trader Joe's Everything-flavor Pretzel Slims. This was how my thought process was going...

"I'd definitely say these pretzel things. Trader Joe's in general. Food in more general. Food. Wine." (looking around) "There's that Anthony Bourdain book. Not crazy about this one, but Anthony Bourdain could be on the list. Oh, there's my planner. Day planners. Yeah. Can't live without them. And post-its. I really like the color of my planner. That shade of blue; that's going on the list. Hmmmmmm..." (looking more) "Those cheap, semi-disposable Glad-Ware containers. Can't live without those. Food. Already have that. Alright, music. Ummmm, what's in my CD player? What was the last song I listened to? Yeah. THAT's going on the list..."

And on and on.

This could go on forever. I would hate to be the person who interviewed me and asked about my favorite things. They'd have to devote an entire issue to me. Plus, most of them would be things that were immediately in front of me or fresh in my mind. By the time the issue came out, I might not even like half of them anymore. It would be about as useful as the damn In/Out/Five Minutes Ago "Shaw Report".

Latest EW issue says...
In: Plumcots.
Out: Tangelos.
Five minutes Ago: Tomaccos.

*sigh*

I've just exahusted myself.
I need some coffee.
Coffee is definitely on the list.

That was close... too close...

So, upon heading out to my car this morning, I saw something on my windshield.

I went closer. It was a piece of paper.
Shit.
A little closer. Too large to be a ticket.
Whew!
I grab the paper.
It reads, "Can you please call me; you hit my front bumper. My number is blah blah blah, Thanks, Erick."

Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.

So I go home, get myself ready for work and head out, the whole time worrying about this note. I have to call him. Chances are if he wrote out a full note on blank computer paper, he got my license plate. Not calling would make everything worse. What if he's an extortionist? What if he saw the dent in my back bumper and decided he was going to try and milk some money out of me (not knowing that this cow is pretty dry)? What if I did hit him and cause damage? Should I just pay the guy what he wants? I can't pay to cosmetically fix my own car, let alone his! Should I just go to my insurance company, let them handle it and then charge me out the wazoo? I can't afford to lose my "good driver" status!

So I called him.
Just a little paint scratch. One of many for him. He was planning on repainting the bumper anyway. This has just been happening to him a lot since he moved to LA a year ago. He was very understanding and doesn't want anything from me. He just wanted me to know and to be more careful.
And I'm grateful.
And hugely relieved.
But at the same time, I can't help thinking,
"Welcome to LA, buddy. If this is the worst that happens to you, count yourself lucky."

But still... WHEW!

This is how I know Greg is bored.

When Greg is bored, he reads my blog. If the last posting is really old, he'll bug me to put up a new one. This is cannot fault him for because, frankly, I do the same thing to him. Ha ha.

Well, frankly, I'm kind of bored too. Not in a "dear god please kill me" kind of way but more in a "the day has just begun and I'm idle" way.

Thoughts for the day:

Weak coffee with Irish Cream Coffeemate will always make me think of high-school and the music hallway.

Most jobs that I bitch and moan about, when I think about it, aren't really that bad. And I don't really mind them that much.

I am a wimp. Anytime I do something remotely physical, I hurt the next day. However, I highly doubt this will lead me to exercise.

I have no idea why most peanut butters have so much damn sugar.

I wonder if a peanutbutter-peach pie would be any good. Someone asked me about htis combination the other day. I think it could work.

I think my shoe is going to break. I figure I'll wear it until it does... but it's really going to suck when I'm out somewhere for the day with a broken shoe.

I am really glad that Dynamite Kablammo is still together.

Meh, that's all for now.

I think I've been ignoring computers.

Not consciously. Not actively. Not even really ignoring as I'm fine about checking my email. I guess I just started to ignore blogging because A) I had less boredom time around computers and B) nobody really reads this and it is mainly for me to be less bored at work. I haven't made an entry since well before I quit my last job. Now I have a whole new office job.

"A new fantastic point of view! No one to tell us no or where to--"

Alright, enough of that. But it's funny because, even though this job is just another office job, it's SO low key! It's just me. In an office. There is a coffee machine and refrigerator in the office. I have full internet access. The phone barely rings. The few times it did ring today, 8 out of 10 times, it was a fax machine. The other two were looking for the other girl who works here and didn't even want to leave a message. And sure it's boring and sure there isn't much to do. So what? This is like having off-time that gives me a few random tasks and keeps me away from the TV. I can read, I can keep up on my audition notices and I can get things done that I've been putting off, like logging my new recipes before I lose them.

This is good. This is all good. Now if I could get a few hours at my other job, I'd be really really happy.

Holy crap! I have a life!

It's an astonishing realization for me, having held the impression that I am a wholly boring individual with nothing going on for the past couple of months. All of a sudden, I'm feeling a backlash. A backlash of stuff.
I HAVE THINGS TO DO.

Once I got bored, I started creating ideas of things to do once _________(insert thing I've been putting off) happens. And then I got bored and took care of those things, like my heretofore dormant computer (thanks for the kick in the pants, Matt!). Now that my computer's up and running, I've got all these projects I want to do ASAP. I have programs I want to play with. I completely forgot how much time I can kill just playing around on a computer without internet.

Then there's other things: that class I decided to take is now overlapping with the play I got into and the movie social club Matt and I are putting together. The short DK's been plotting is finally coming up. A few more auditions I set up are on the plate. I worked on a game show for extra cash (and fun, of course). I'm applying for new jobs, even having to turn down jobs that don't fit my needs (because I DO have things going on!). I'm reading audiobooks for the blind in my spare time because it's something different and the other volunteers are a blast. And around all that is the stuff that other friends of mine have going on that I like to take part in (music, plays, movies, etc). I'm getting out on my bike and getting exercise.

When did I get busy again? Wow!


Maybe thoughts really DO become things... well, at least things to do.

Return of the "old voice"

Faithful readers of my MySpace blog (ok, one or two people) may recall an insanely hot day last summer when I kept hearing commentary in my head as done by an old person. I was looking at sandals and I kept thinking, in a cartoonish old person voice, "Gonna get yourself some flim-flams? How about some flim-flams? You kids and your flim-flams..." and so forth.

It came back today.

I was having a particularly mind-numbing day at work in the mailroom, where the radio was woefully tuned to KISS FM. Lame to begin with. I heard that "nobody wanna see us together" song by Akon at least 7 times. But the last few times, the old person voice kicked in.

"Who's this 'Acorn' fella? What kind of a name is Acorn? The kids these days sure seem to like that Acorn."

This can't be good.
Some part of my brain is clearly aging at mach speed.

Patience. Serenity. A Dana craves not these things.

SO I've finally decided to actively search for a new job. And because I don't have the balls or the financial cushion to quit and give myself over to the universe, I'm waiting until I have something lined up before I leave. Which only serves to make each day here... not more unbearable, just more disposable. Apparently, it IS possible for me to care less.

Someone just made popcorn. Dammit. I'm going to smell that for the rest of my shift.

What is it about the smell of popcorn that, in addition to sparking unbearable cravings, travels like nobody's business. And lingers! Oh, the lingering!

Anyhow, now comes the point in a job search when I apply for stuff and maybe never hear from them again, all the while fixating on how great it would be to get that job until the moment I finally decide to give up hope and obsess over another potential job. If I could only adopt the same mentality that I have with casting notices and auditions: just go in, do my best and forget I was ever there. The thing is that I go on more auditions and send out WAY more acting resumes than job interviews so one seems more natural to me than the other.

One of my big problems lies in the fact that I will oftentimes find a handful of great opportunities at once. I think to myself, "These would be great! Hold out for one of these!" And then they fall through. Then it's a while before another handful comes along. In truth, it's been a while since I actively pursued one of these clumps of luck, so this could work out better. All I know now is that I'd REALLY like to hear back from somebody.

Wish me luck, universe.

My least favorite flower

Lilies.



They smell gross.
They smell like church and death.
They are sitting on the desk right in front of me.
And sure, they're kind of pretty.
But they
smell
gross.

It's like... say you meet someone really attractive. Almost on the flashy and extravagant side, but very attractive. The problem is that they have really bad BO. Either that or they wear way too much cologne. Regardless, you meet them at the same time as another very attractive person, one a little more tasteful and much nicer, more subtle smelling.

Would you not prefer the one who smelled better and was just as good-looking?
Is my nose too sensitive?
WHY ARE LILIES SO DAMNED POPULAR??

Voluntary time off

What does this mean to me? Well, for starters, it means weekdays that I typically spend working that I have elected to spend making no money at all, not counting days spent going out of town because others want me in another state. This week, however, it includes time that I have elected to spend working on some film student's short instead of earning income.

Now personally, I would rather take "voluntary time off" to relax and reward myself for all the hard work I do, spend the day working on furthering my career or cleaning my apartment. Alas, it is not to be. I had plotted out a concept of taking off one day a month designated as a "career day". Unfortunately, as soon as I implemented this, I got a summons for jury duty. Lame. Then I booked the student film (less lame), so it looks like "me" time during the hours of 8:30 and 5:30 Monday-Friday is not to be. For now at least.

But I musn't think of it that way! I chose to take these days off. I chose this over that. I can't bemoan the fact that I'm not making money because it was my decision.

Next week on jury duty, however, is a whole different story.

Begin the bemoan.

Everything's coming up Dana!

So I was kind of scared about today. Not only did I have a dentist appointment scheduled (haven't in about 4 years) to squeak in over my lunch hour, I also have a musical audition this afternoon (which I haven't done in about 3 years).

Now, I'm not one of those people who gets scared of the dentist's pointy implements and propensity to poke me in the gums with them. No no no. I'm scared of dentists the same way I'm scared of mechanics. I don't want them to find something "dire" that I can't afford to fix. Something they'll charge me out the wazoo for. Something that doesn't really need to be done, but they say it does. Especially since this was the first time I've had a dentist who wasn't the father of one of my friends.

This said, it went great. I mean, the x-ray tech's personality left a bit to be desired but the dentist himself and the hygenist were super sweet. And I had no cavities and they didn't pressure me to set another appointment right away. All in all, it was a totally pleasant trip to the dentist.

This seems to be par for the course for the last few days. Things just seem to be going my way. I got cast in a short film, I got my tax return back in time to sign up for the UCB class I wanted to take, I set up a couple of auditions, figured out a program that was giving me crap, have been cooking well, am going to karaoke tonight, rollerskating on Saturday, a few things up in the air and I might get a bike this weekend.

In the immortal words of Mr. Robert Quinn, "Hell yeah!"

*15 minutes later*

Would you believe that someone just handed me the most delicious peanut butter cookie I've ever had along with a bag of baked goods for my department FOR FREE??

I don't what's gotten into the universe today, but I like it.

Gotta quit while I'm ahead... and by "ahead" I mean "alive".

I feel like my job is giving me indigestion, acid reflux and raising my heart rate in an unhealthy way. Not like, through exercise, but through the fact that when the phone starts ringing like it does, I start to feel anxious. Sometimes I get twinges of pain in my chest (like now). Sometimes it gives me that knots-in-my-stomach feeling. Sometimes I feel like I can't draw a full breath and I just feel deflated.

Now considering that I answer phones for a living, that's fucking pathetic.
I need out.

And I'm looking.

*Addendum: half an hour later*

Can I just state for the record that no matter how bad the universe craps on me, I'm not giving in and giving up on what I want. So the prospect of getting a weekend run for J&G in Palm Springs has flaked out. Oh well! So we won't be doing anything with DK for a while. I can wait! So I got called up for jury duty at the beginning of the month. Annoying, but not terminal. So I can't file my taxes until I find a form that I'm not sure I have. Whoopee! So the callback I went on got me oh-so-close, but they "made other choices". Add that one to the list! I've got things on the horizon, I just don't fucking know what they are yet! I'm running low on money and I'm sure will be lower still at some point in the near future, but it's not going to kill me. I'm not broke, I'm not going broke. I'll be fine. I might be bored and frustrated and financially strapped, but I'll be fine I tell you! They don't want me? I don't want them! Clearly it's not in the cards. But something, something has to be.

Right?

Really? REALLY??

*sigh*

I know the subject of my frustration with my office's blocking of webistes that I want to access, mainly MySpace, has come up before. I've learned to accept that. I'm coping.

Now they got a new firewall system. And this one also blocks Craigslist, which I have been using as of late to troll for jobs.

DOUCHEBAGS!

It's not like I'm slacking on my job. I just don't have much of a job to do to begin with. I answer phones, sort the occasional fax and stuff mail. I have a lot of downtime.

This place sucks.
At least I can still get here.
For now.

I am a Power Ranger! (What?)

I don't know. Ignore that.

What I'm trying to say is that I've been on Power mode lately. As in "I've got shit going on so get the fuck out of my way 'cause I'll knock you over with my Power" mode. Or something. Look at that, I can't even be confident in my confidence.

NO! I've been on a big kick to get my shit together, not be afraid of failure, put together a reel, go on as many auditions as I can worm my way into, meet people who can help me, not get comfortable in the life I'm in as it is not the life I ultimately want and... you know... stuff.

I keep getting ideas. Ideas of things I want to do, want to try, want to stop. I want to get a bike. I want to get outside more. I want to see more of the pretty parts of California and not just the San Fernando Valley. I want to try making bagels. I want to learn to cook tofu properly. I want to become an good cook, not just a pretty good cook. I want to be able to properly execute complex dishes without them coming out tasting fine but looking like crap. I want to eat and live healthier. I want to be able to keep plants alive, more than 1 at a time. I want to hang up my star lanterns on my porch. I want to make my apartment nice looking in a way that indicates that the person who lives in the place has their shit together. I want to get a new couch. I want to get a new job. I want to be able to go through a work day without a phone ringing 200 times in my ear.

Altight. Enough of that. I'm gonna go figure out how to make one of these things happen.

To the "question" people:

I know the world is a big, strange, wonderful place. I know that there are so many things to know and learn about. I know that we can only grow and expand our minds by seeking knowledge from unexpected places.

This said, I am not that place.

I might look like a font of information, especially with my glasses on. I'm a smart girl. I read a lot. I've been here awhile and have picked up a few things along the way. I'm happy to tell you the things you should know.

Not 10 times in rapid succession.
Not for a straight 8 hours.
And I really have no interest in walking you through what you "might" do in a hypothetical situation. Don't make up questions just so I can answer them! I don't want to!

FURTHERMORE, do not ask me random questions about what you see on my computer screen! If it's something I want to discuss with you, trust me, I will.

And please don't ask what it's like to "keep plugging away" at an acting career. It's depressing. Thinking about it depresses me. In fact in order to keep at it, I need to block out how much like running headlong into walls it truly is. Don't remind me. Don't tell me about a scene you saw in the movie "A Star Is Born" where the lead girl tries to get a job only to be told she's got about a one in 10-million shot but she sticks her plucky little chin out and says something vapid like, "I'm going to be that one!" and then marches herself out of the studio and DON'T TELL ME THAT! I know that! I know how many people there are trying to do the same thing I am! I'm ignoring them. Thinking about them scares me and if there's one thing I don't need, it's fear. And while I'm not one for blind optimism, fear's not my thing either.

I'm not as angry as I sound right now. I'm just frustrated.

Question people...

Snap out of it!

It's no secret that I am, how do you say, susceptible to bad moods and negativity. If it's around me, it hits. If it hits, it sticks. I recognized the extent to which I do this about midway through last year and resolved to change. I keep resolving to change, but it's a work in progress. There are always going to be days when something pisses me off. And when something pisses me off, I want to tell someone about it to get it out of my system. And while that makes me feel better, I need to realize that this only perpetuates the negativity and passes my bad vibes to them, bringing them down. This isn't fair. I need to find a way to make myself feel better and purge myself of the negativity without spreading it to others.

However at the same time, if it's a person I spend a lot of time around, I feel compelled to tell them what happened during my day. It's what I do. I talk, a lot, and I have a tendency to pull conversation topics from things that happened to me in the very recent past. Sometimes they are good, sometimes they are not.

So... what do I do?
Do I only talk about the good things that happen to me during the day? Because that sounds boring. And phony. At the same time, I don't want to drive people I care about away by having a bad attitude. Moreover, after having brought up the crappier points of my day, the realization that I am bringing others down completely depresses me.
I don't want to be that person.
I don't want to be that other person either.

Well, fuck, this has gotten more depressing than I intended. This was not my initial point at all. I got sidetracked. Bad Dana. My point was that I am trying to be more positive.

Now I was having a conversation with this woman I just met this morning who was brimming over, bursting to talk about this movie she saw (3 times yesterday, in fact) called "The Secret". I know very little about the film other than Greg watched it and seemed to have a similar response, and that Oprah is now promoting it. Ah, the bond between Oprah and Greg! (That's not fair, I can't make fun of him while he's in the desert.)

Anyhow, she was talking about how in order to get what you want, you have to "ask for it". By this, I took it to mean that you have to really want it, accept that it is what you want from your life. Which I can accept as a reason why I have yet to succeed at acting, seeing as I have trouble even admitting aloud that to be a successful actress is what I ultimately want. Therefore until I can admit that I want to act professionally, I won't.

So that's why I'm saying this:
I want to be an actress. A real one. I want to get paid for it and I want it to be my job. I don't want to have to work at a crappy office answering phones. I want to be an actress.

Take that, universe.

A man, a woman, a death wish.

What kind of moron says to a woman, any woman, "Have you gained weight?"
A man who hates his balls?

SERIOUSLY!

(Thanks, Leroy.)

Oh god, what have I done?

So you know that stretch of big fun I was talking about? It's panning out to be exhausting. After this weekend, I needed another weekend. Sunday night was not enough re-coop time (however Matt and I made some serious sweet and sour chicken). Then after dragging myself through the Monday workday, I went rollerskating with the gang for Greg's birthday. I was stoked. I was psyched. I was ready.

I was wrong.
Oh my god, I completely forgot how exhausting rollerskating is. And it doesn't really feel like it at the time (unless your knee starts hurting because the DJ won't freaking switch directions) but it will wear your ass down. Upon getting back to Matt's, I was down for good. Then I didn't sleep well because my stomach was acting up (stupid roller-rink corn dog!). So I was still exhausted. Then I burned up all my adrenaline going to an audition this morning, so now I'm super tired. And I have a show tonight. One I have to understudy for. And I have to go straight there after work.

I want a nap!
Was that an earthquake?
What a weird day...

The wheels of progress will eventually tape you to its spokes.

That is the lesson I have learned today.
After a good long time of resisting the "change over to new Google Blogger", I was held up and forced to convert. Dammit. I refused to change over when Yahoo Mail tried their beta thing, which ultimately didn't work out because it was slow as fuck (and not in a good way) and it went away. Apparently this is catching on and functioning because I have been strong-armed into change.

This better pan out.
Just a warning.

Oh man, I'm so bluffing. I couldn't be pissed off today if I tried. (This is not a challenge!) I had an okay morning, a totally pleasant lunch and the workday is scooting right along without leaving little poopy trails behind it. Then I have a show tonight, which is always fun. It's Friday. That's good too. Then I have 2 shows tomorrow which, while it won't be relaxing, will be a whole lot of fun. DK closes tomorrow... for now. Then I make my J&G debut as Rivkah when I understudy on Sunday, which I'm dreading less today than I did yesterday. I just might have my shit together. Oy vay. I'm planning to chill the hell out on Sunday night and get all my relaxation in before I start up again on Monday. Which will STILL be fun because Monday is the beginning of Greg's birthday celebrations! A-rollerskating we will go! Then Tuesday I have a special weekday show which should bring in a fun crowd. And then Wednesday is Valentine's Day... for what that's worth. I think the last time I got really excited about a Valentine's day was 6th grade because a friend was going to be having a party. Then I got the stomach flu and bronchitis at the same time. It's lowered my expectations ever since. But anyway... the point is that I have a big fat stretch of fun ahead of me and I am fucking psyched for it.

WHOO!

I've been so much more positive lately. Thank you, Tom Robbins.
NOT TONY ROBBINS, Tom Robbins.
Everybody should read his stuff. So fun.

On a side note, I just got a very random, very abrupt and very intense craving for Andes Mint Chocolates. Not just anything minty and chocolatey will do. I need the cool smoothness of Andes on my tongue. I need the firm yet creamy texture squishing between my teeth. I need... to think about something else. This fixation will only make me crazy.

Man, I'm thirsty.
Water bottle! Where are you?

Eat my sequins, Rachael Ray!

I forgot to mention this. I was so distracted by the end result of the Superbowl (ie. depression, nausea and the desire to see Rex Grossman's head on a stick), I forgot to bring up the wild success of the day: my chili. I don't know how, but it's already almost gone. Which is amazing because I had my crock pot filled literally to the brim.

I don't have the full recipe in front of me, but it was a 3-bean Chipotle Turkey Chili con Corn. And I've made some chilis before, but this is my finest formula. I'll put up the actual recipe once I get home. Maybe.

All my beautiful evil! Oh, what a world!

Maybe that's a bit melodramatic.
(Typical.)

The sequins are falling off of my fabulous shoes.
If you're unfamiliar, I have a pair of cute little ballet flat style shoes absolutely decked, nay, FESTOONED with sequins of all colors. After about a year or more of relentless wear, the sequins are falling off. Now I should be thrilled they stayed on as long as they have, especially considering that I am not exactly gentle on my garments. But they are detaching at an alarming rate and I don't quite know what to do about it aside from "wear them less". I've been finding sequin shrapnel around my apartment and the floor by my desk at work twinkles far more than it should.

I got the shoes from Target sometime last year (I think). I had been eyeing them for about a week and when I finally went back and got them, my roommate Adam asked what the hell I was going to wear them with.
"Everything," I grinned.
And so I have. And it's taking its toll. This isn't a premature eulogy but merely an expression of my dismay that my shoes are on the downswing.

*sigh*

If you're looking for something insightful, keep looking.

No revelations to be had here.
Not now anyway.
I have to pee too badly.

This is the crappy thing about my cubiclemate being sick. Usually if one of us has to use the restroom, we can cover for eachother. If I'm alone, I basically get my allotted breaks every few hours and that's it unless I feel like hollering over the walls and begging someone to cover the phones for me. Which I hate. I'd rather suffer for the next hour and risk the kidney failure. If it gets too bad, I'll give in. But not likely.

My throat and tongue are getting dry.
Can't drink water though.
D'ohhhhhh!

*sigh*

If I eat something salty, do you think the diuretic effects will reach my bladder? Or is it too late? Do I just have to suck it up and go to the bathroom?

Because it feels like quitting! It feels like giving in, like I can't control myself and now I need an additional bathroom break.

45 minutes. I can wait 45 minutes. I'm sitting. I have my legs crossed. I'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

*Update!*

I have 10 minutes left to go. Salty snacking proved effective as a distraction as did reading a couple of Joel Stein's articles on LAtimes.com. However, doing my job seems to do NOTHING to distract me. It takes no thought and/or concentration as I can do it while reading, eating or writing a whiny blog about my soon-to-rupture bladder.

I might die soon.
If I do... I'm sure I cared about you very deeply and I'm sure you'll miss me a lot.

Dammit, I can't even relax when I'm relaxing!

So as this is a lovely free evening of mine with nothing to do and the run of the place to myself, I decide to take a bath. My shoulder/neck has been acting up again (send painkillers!) so i figure this will help my muscles to relax. I get the bathroom all set up, pour far too much bubble-solution into the water (which doesn't matter because it's cheap shit that stays bubbly for about 5 minutes), set up a few CD's I might want to listen to and attempt to enter the tub.

I say "attempt" because it took about 5 minutes of me dipping my feet in and out of the water before they could be submerged for good. Every time I tried, it felt like they were being boiled. I put my hand in to test it. No problem! My feet? No way! I rubbed my feet, attempting to get some blood to flow to the are so that I could get in sometime before the bubbles ran out. Finally worked.

So I'm in the tub. Soaking. Shoulder's feeling good. Soothing music playing. Happy times.

I'm bored.

So I scrub my feet and other dry rough patches.
Resume soaking.

Still bored.
Man, it's hot.
Really hot.
I can't get comfortable.
It's hot.
My neck hurts.
I'm bored.

So I got out.
And now my rough patches are still rough, my shoulder/neck still hurts and I reek of cheap vanilla bubblebath like I've been soaking in the heart-shaped hot tub at some cheesy trash romantic getaway hotel.

24 starts in 5.
Something to look forward to.
Sweet.

Schadenfreude

I guess that's what it is. I can't think of any other reason for me to find ice-cold Californians so frickin funny.

But GOD! How entertaining is it to see people bundled up and bemoaning the weather when it's 50 degrees and sunny! Wearing heavy winter coats reserved for temperatures under the freezing point. Coming in as if they had just been on an artic expedition, blowing on their hands and wailing about how it's never been this cold EVER in the existence of everything.

Schadenfreude and hyperbole. Put together? SO FUNNY.

You know I'm working again when...

Yes, that's right. I post when I'm bored at work. Now that you have this mystery figured out, you can go on with being pleased with yourself.

I'm gonna bring things down for a second.
(Go, little raincloud, go!)
All my friends are posting messages of hope for the new year. Tidings of optimism for what bounty 2007 holds for them.

It makes me want to do the opposite.
No offense, guys! I have nothing but respect for you and your positive outlooks! It's just in my nature to go against the grain. However, this is the very thing I've been trying so hard not to do. To stop mistaking pessimism for realism and optimism for idealism. And how bad is "idealism" anyway? A little naive if that's how you think things will actually go, but if it's more of a goal, then why not?

Here's my take.

I hope...
... that 2007 will be a font of success for myself and everyone I care about...
... that I will learn to grow as a human being and accept myself and my strengths (I have no problem accepting my faults) and all that crap...
... that I will be able to stop working at jobs that continually try to suck out my soul...
... that peace, joy, love, goodwill, harmony, delirious happiness and bunnies that give hugs will prevail over the world...

... but I will understand if none of this happens.

Take it or leave it.