WAIT! One more thing!

I totally forgot this, until 48 seconds ago!! I had another apocalyptic dream last night, and I was convinced that I was going to wake up to a smoldering Earth. A lot of it's hazy, but I remember a "Dante's Peak"-esque scene where the road was turning into a fiery inferno and there was a bus full of screaming children that I ran past. I was trying to get to my family, and I had some friends that were going to the top of a ski resort to get drunk - the altitude makes it fast and cheap - and they were razzing me about wasting my last moments being scared in the loving arms of my loved ones. Oooh. I didn't like that. Then, upon waking up, for the first moments, such as when I was on the phone with the job hunter, I was thinking that I only had 4 years to live life to its fullest potential. Yeah. Whoa. 4 years, why 4?! Well, duh. Everyone knows that 2012 is the year of death for all, December 21... very scary. I don't actually believe it, when I'm not dreaming... why must people always predict doom. Y'know Nostradamus was drunk when he wrote his prophecies and was probably thinking, what can really scare people in the future? Oh, I know, I'll give them a specific year in which the world will end. That'll be crazy for them, and I'll be really vague so my "prophecies" can be put into any context, and people will believe every word I write!!! AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!


Okay, real quick, and then I really need to go. I totally feel like Marsha Brady right now, doing this whole match.dom thing, and talking to lotsa guys all at the same time. Apparently, I'm a great phone conversationalist, not awkward at all. So that's good to know. Okay. I need to put on clothes and leave my home - I've been blogging without pants this whole time. Too much information for you? I'm so sorry. Deal with it, baby!

You Don't Know What It's Like

I had my first "first date" with a match "dot" commer last night. Oh boy. He was late, by 15 minutes. I thought I was being stood up, it was an awful feeling, and I drank 2 beers in the time I waited... first beer averaged 4.32 minutes, and the second lasted up to 11 minutes. I finished and I was just about ready to get up and go, and he walked in the door, wiping the sweat from his brow. We shook hands (I didn't know what to do! ha) and he explained that he parked 7 blocks away, thinking the place we were meeting was somewhere else... hmmm. Likely story, sir. Anyway, it was interesting. He was handsome and I was slightly distracted/staring most of the evening. Oops! He's 26, smart, seemingly has everything together. We had some pretty good conversations throughout the evening. Talking about livin' life, family, the "good" hipsters vs. the "bad" hipsters, books, music, crazy things that happen in cities... like cougars in Roscoe Village

--sidenote: on Sunday, in Lincoln Park's park, two guys that were playing frisbee with one of my friends came over to talk to us (they couldn't resist the ladies) and we discussed the cougar with them, as well. At first we were wondering, why would anyone own a cougar. And, if they did, and they realized it was gone, they probably thought, Oh shit! But then, the one guy in the black shirt was saying that the cougar traveled all the way from North Dakota, and we joked that he was on a revenge trip. Picked up a scent of someone who camped on the cougar's turf and traveled onward to Roscoe Village, Chicago, where he was maliciously gunned down. 18 bullets!! Wicki-wicki-what?! Black shirt made a joke that Rookie Mike needed some shooting practice - good times. --

and other things of social importance. Anyway, we had a few beers, laughed, and spun on the swivel chairs. Then, he started getting yawny around 11, and I made fun of him for having a "real job." We left the bar, he was walking that way to his car, and I said, "Hey. My bike's right here." There were a buncha people outside, and it was a real awkward good-bye, I didn't know whether to shake his hand or hug him... we did the polite thing and said we enjoyed each other's company. Which I did. I wasn't lying, he's a beautiful and interesting guy, but a little too serious for me - he was really well spoken, too. Which isn't a bad thing at all, but then I would talk about some book I'm reading, say "The Idiot" by Dostoevsky and I would fumble over all my words, sprinklin' "like"s and "um"s all over the place. If my step mother were there (that would be weird, number 1) she would've had a conniption and I would've rolled my eyes at her. Rolling eyes, weird. I just did it, and it kind of hurt, my left eye closed a little with the roll, too. I don't think I'll be doing that again - rolling eyes, not dates... I've got more of those lined up, which is really stressful to tell you the truth.

Whoa, I just had a lightbulb! What if I end up getting into a relationship with one of these guys that I'm talking smack on, and one day we happen to talk about the fact that I have a blog and he checks it out and gets offended. Let me just say, "Hey, baby. I didn't know then that I would love you soooooo much now. I'm glad we're where we are now. Let the past stay where it is... in the past." Smile.

I had a pretty wonderful day today. I slept in, well, I tried, but then I woke up to my phone. Groggily I answered, feigning alertness, and it was someone from some place asking if I was interesting in a sales position job... making 500-700 calls a week. "Um, no thanks." Then, I played some guitar, gchatted for a bit, hopped on my bike, rode to the lake, ran for a bit, hopped back on my back and rode home. Then, I putzed around my apartment for a bit. ANNNNND THEN!! I got a call from this temping agency that I applied with yesterday(!) for an interview on Tuesday - the position would involve writing blurbs for businesses on some search site, or something - sounds like fun, and it's a temp. foot in the door in the "real world" of jobs. Also, I have a phone interview for an admin assistant in Lincolnwood, but I forgot what the company is... important thing to know, and I'll find out tomorrow. So, fun things all around.

Now, I must go and get ready for a concert. I need to drink some coffee or something, I'm feeling a tad sleepy. WAKE UP! Alright, kids.

Peace.

In-a-pro-priate!!!!

Which is almost like "in a pro pirate"... doesn't that sound sexy? I don't know what it could mean, but it's damn sure sexy. Speaking of sexy, this post will totally be un-sexy. Just a forewarning to you horny readers out there... you may never feel sexual again. Ever. Never ever, like Peter Pan, you'll be stuck in a land of make and dis-belief.

The following is copied/pasted and slightly edited to protect the few, sad souls who had to experience my roommate's bi-polarity (perhaps) with me.

The email subject line was, "An electric green dildo, with HUGE balls." Or maybe it was "big", whatever, they were large and frightening...

That's right, ladies. I said it, and God help me do I need to vent!!I'm about a centimeter and a mile past the point of shaving off my eyebrows!! Can you bear with me for a little disturbing verbal account of what raped my eyes earlier this afternoon? If not, skip the following paragraph until you see me begin rambling about match.com, mmkay?! Wow. Okay, I don't know where to begin, as some of you have already heard my bitching and moaning about my living situation - and, for the record, it is completely justified. Let's see. Craigslist totally set me (and my other roommate- b/c she's normal) up with the craziest, most unstable person, ever! EVER, EVER, EVER!!!! I am soooooo angry!!! (And I don't know what music to listen to right now to egg on my mood-- Pandora's Daniel Johnston station just might do the trick....)

Okay, so number one, he's filthy. Like beyond all reason, beyond anything I've ever encountered before. He's disrespectful in the aspect that he never cleans up after himself, and if he's cooking, he doesn't wipe the goop off his hands before he smears them all over the cabinets. So, in the morning, when I reach for the silverware drawer to retrieve a spoon (for oatmeal, not cereal, b/c cereal costs over $4 in this city. Note to future visitors, bring me some cereal if you plan on staying with me) I close a fist on god only knows what, but it's slimy, or sometimes crusty and flakes into my palm... umm, I thank whatever deity you choose, that I don't have to share a bathroom with him. He's still hocking his loogies, but it's not as frequent now that the weather's turning warm. URRRRRRRRGH!! He never gets the mail/takes out the trash/locks the door when he comes home (so we'll only be raped/robbed/murdered by our building neighbors, b/c there's an outside door, too, and that automatically locks... if it's closed). He took the living area TV into his room one drunken night, right before my DVR setting for Chris Walken's appearance on SNL - so I REALLY did not, NOT appreciate that! And you all heard about the night, a couple Wednesdays ago, when I came home from work and he stumbled out of his room, musing too see if I would accompany him in a drink. Old Style, ew. No thanks. But the point is, he was drinking (drunkenly) all by himself, and he had all these awful notes about himself tacked to theoutside(!) of his door (hello, cry for help!) "Life is one big circle jerk" ok... "His name, you suck. You're a waste of a soul" "You don't deserve to live" schizo. "Failure" "Obsolete" on and on and on...okay, I know he's going through some rough times, but there are other ways to deal with things, brother! Oh wait, so he was "celebrating" the fact that he hadn't touched a woman in 15 months, saying he was disgusting, who would touch him (I agree, but I didn't tell him that) and that if he had some courage he would swallow a bullet. Stop! Right now! I yelled at him, saying I never wanted to hear him say that again, b/c really? Are you serious? What's that going to solve? Then, he said he wishes he could be gay... I'm pretty sure gay men have higher standards than women, so that's probably not going to work out so well for him. This story recounting has become more bitter since the actual incident because I despise this man - that's right folks,this shit head is 24, almost 25, and I'm surprisingly more mature than him. He slept (before his mother, bat shit crazy, too, came into town and bought him a big nice bed that's going to be a bitch to move out) on a un-sheeted mattress on the floor, stained most likely with his piss and vomit... there are smears/punches in his walls, a broken window. Hey! You might say to yourself right now, Hey, Kate! Tell your landlord, take some pictures as proof! Yeah, I've done those things, the landlord is afraid he could be sued... I'm kind of afraid I might be murdered. So thanks, sir. Thank you. Where was I in my rant? Oh yeah, and there is pizza, and milk, and dirty dishes, and broken bottles, all over the floor. Our house smells because of his room, and it's a really nice house!! And he makes it suck! Most recently, he drinks lady roomie's beers, my milk - without refilling either, he kept uncapped milk in the fridge which I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally wanted to throw on him, and then punch him repeatedly. I'm not an angry person guys, I was, but I'm trying to get past that point in my life, that point called adolescence and being a grounded teenager who couldn't goto the "drinking parties" in high school, as my mother so eloquently called them.

New paragraph, cause that one is big.... deep breath. Oh, and shoes in the freezer! FREEZER! SHOES! Yeah, you read that right. It's okay to laugh. I did, too. Granted it was a maniacal laugh as if I were going insane, and I feel like I am. I don't feel like I should have to move,#1 b/c I'm not the crazy one in this situation, #2 b/c moving's a bitch, and #3, I have a really sweet set-up and an orgasmic view of the city!! Orgasmic. I go outside and stand on my balcony when I'm lonely. He needs to live alone, or go back home. He has to be bi-polar, or something... he's on all sorts of meds, and he just needs help!! Then, today. Icing, man. Icing. I shouldn't have gone in his room, but there was a blanket in the living room that's been there for too long, and it was on my chair, and I thought it was his b/c his mom used it the other week. So, I went in his room to put it back. Then, I saw my grinder (which I let him borrow a month ago, when I stopped smoking, that's rightf olks... well, Saturday night was a party people exception, but other than that it's been... 3, 4 weeks? I'm losing count that's how long!!) on his bookshelf, and I went to get it, but I was stopped in my tracks, frozen with fear, when I noticed (besides all the food, drinks, dirty plates, and crumbs in his bed that he sleeps with -- and he rarely showers!! Maybe once a week, twice if he has to work, and then he doesn't always towel dry, but wears his clothes while dripping wet -I've seen it, and it was scary) a BIG BALLED, ELECTRIC GREEN, RUBBER DILDO AMONGST THE FILTH!!! Okay, y'know. I don't think I was bothered so much by the fact that he had a dildo (I don't want to know about it!). I've never known a straight man that has, well, maybe I know those men, but I've never seen them... b/c usually people keep them, oh say, in a drawer, under their pillow, or something, but it was there, staring at me. In the grime of his life, EW! EW!! EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! I wanted to puke and die, and even if it's a joke from a friend (if he has them) that vision is burned, BURNED sooooo deeply into my brain, that I, no matter how many sleeping pills I take, and wine I drink, it will not be removed. I'm at a loss. Lady and I decided that we're having a roomie meeting Sunday afternoon (he doesn't have to work) to tell him to "shape up, or ship out" but now, I'm convinced that he won't shape up, and he has to ship out. Also, another thing the landlord said, (as I explainedthe severity of the situation, he said Ray paid rent and he can't kick him out...) is that we tell Ray he can either move out on his own, or we're going to have the whole apartment sublet... so basically he has to leave on his own, or will be forced... but the bogus thing, is we will too... I'm bummed. I hope he man's up and leaves, but I don't think he has a heart or a conscience, so that won't work. Damn. WOW! Lot's of ranting, eh? Hey, it's good writing material. I could probably say a lot more, maybe I'll write a play, or a book about how to deal in these horrific times... hmm.

SIDE NOTE! DAMNIT! Lady just got a really great job offer in San Fran, and has an interview at the end of this month... I'm so gonna, maybe have to move. FUCK A DUCK!!

If only I could have this kind of success that I'm experiencing at match.com in my professional searchings. I will work for Oprah, even if her website doesn't want me to, "Server Error" uh huh, whatever. So, either tomorrow or Friday, I'm going to march over to Harpo Productions and hand my resume to her, myself. And it will be magic, or it might take magic for that to happen, in which case I will have to send for Megadeath man.

So, all in all. Chicago is wonderful. I've got a lot highs and lows happening, so it's like a really crazy acid trip, pretty much... every second of my life. And, I could be giving myself stomach bleeding b/c I take Advil PM almost every night, probably should switch to Simply Sleep, or get "Dr." Jose to write me a prescription for Lunesta, or Ambien. Alright, lovers. Keep on doing like you do, and drop me a line all about you! Or call, cause that's fun, too!

Peaches and ice cream topped with love (but not for lunch, a couplehours before a run - bad combo for the digestive tract)....

NEWS FLASH... got really drunk last night, called my mom, told her about living situation, and she got upset, told me to call our lawyer friend in the city... cause, it's just a bad situation. Oh, and Filthy just came home... knocked on my door, coming by all friendly, "Hey. How you doin'?" and I'm being all sour and short to him in return... he makes me feel crazy when he's feelin' good about his life, and I asked him about the shoes in the FREEZER and he said it kills the bacteria, and I said, "Oh" and he says, "Do you not want me to do that?" And I said, "No! No, I don't want you to do that." And he says, "Done. All you have to do is ask. Anything else?" And it took every inch of me not to shake him and yell, "Just stop being gross, and stop living here! And stop eating my food and drinking drinks that aren't yours!! And act like a man, not a little baby with mental issues." Instead I said, "No. Not right now. I'm busy, writing an email." But I lied, b/c I'm doing this. Telling the world about his home life.... well, I guess that's all for now. Oh yeah, and I'm putting Oprah off until Monday, really get my stuff together, dress up my "hire me" documents to impress the hell outta her. Alright, I'm going to maybe go do something productive. AHHHHHH! HE JUST HOCKED ANOTHER LOOGIEEEE!!! I'm going to lose my mind. Oh wait, yeah, and even if we decide to move out, it's going to cost a month's rent for them to sublet for us, I believe their reasoning was that they're tired of doing paperwork. Really guys, really? Because I thought that was your job. Oh, and... no. I'm going to stop now, because I might lose it if I continue on this stream of thought.

Seriously, Scion?

Yeah, okay, number one I got home a while ago and I was thinking about going to my computer, and I thought I needed to twirl my long hair to one side so it wouldn't get in way of the computer. But then, wait. I cut all my hair off. And it's gone. And it'll take me a million and three years to grow out again, and by the time it does I'll probably be sick of long hair again, but it might be nice to brush it and french braid it. Y'know, I'm listening to Party Favs on the Music Channel, and the first song was RHCP "Give It Away," and I was so happy I was listening to my own music, and now it's "Blinded Me W/Science" by... hold on, it's poetry in motion, Thomas Dolby, and in 1982 he played keyboards for Def Leoppard and shit -- Foreigner. Rock on, rocker!

I am in no state to be blogging right now. Only on to apparently solidify my creepy internet behavior, such as #1) opening and following through with my own blog, which the 1s and 0s of the cyber-abyss judge, and #2) paying for a profile on match.com... wow. Really? The last ridiculous drunken purchase was seasons 1-3 of Taxi (not even the whole series) one of my first nights out in Chicago this past summer, my cabbie had never heard of the sitcom, what since he was from an eastern African country and all. I have to admit, I was disappointed that I couldn't recollect and enjoy the comedic stylings of Andy Kauf(f)man(n) and Danny Devito with someone else... so I got home and click-ee-dee-clacked on amazon.com Used&More Used and zipp-ity-zap, I'm watching Tony Danza's tight ass (as Tony Banta) in some bell-bottoms... and Jeff Conway, man. That guy's had it rough. To think he and Travolta used to be the best of buds, and now Dr. Drew's telling him "No" J.C.... whoa. He's J.C. Where was this all going?

Yes. "Funky town." Speaking of. Has anyone ever heard of this, putting sneakers in the freezer? Seriously?! Seriously. Craigslist, what did you get me into in my roommate situation? I almost hate my house... action will be taken tomorrow? I was going to give him a day, I thought it was getting better. His mother came. And then the sneakers, the donut he ate, the beers he drank, the joy he stole out of my glorious apartment... I just don't want it to be the straw, breaking the back of the craziest, most aggrevating camel, ever, most flithy, and destructive was the word I was looking for.

Inappropriate. My apologies. This more than enough and then some. You keep it real. 10010 01011 01011010 101001001111100!!! 01010! 010111000! 11000?!? 10100011!!!

1-0111011

Hot dog!!

Alright, alright, alright. I've got marathon numero dos under my belt - mmm! how about that?! Oh yeah! I was overzealous in wanting to get under 4 hours. Let's see. I started out, 6:56am, jogging in place in the middle of the large crowd, behind the 9:10 pacing group. A woman behind me was talking about how she needed to retie her shoes so she wouldn't have to stop once she started running. Oh! Good idea. So, I bend down, 6:57, unlace the strings on my left shoe - one in each hand - and the crowd starts moving. My heart starts racing, and I'm moving 20 paces on my knees, in the middle of 1,000s of people, fearing that I'm going to be trampled!! Run a pace, try to tie, run, try to stand, can't let go of the strings or I'm going to trip. Wow. It was scary. Then, it just stopped - like magic. Magic! I tied my shoe. Popped up, and some jackass behind me said, "Ha ha ha! I thought you were going to have to run the whole race on your knees." Yeah, you're real funny sir. No.

Oh, it was a beautiful morning - couldn't have asked for better weather. The race started down market street, under this giant American flag billowing in the wind, towards the Arch. What a sight, and a mass of moving people. The first 10 were amazing, running with the pacing group, we did anywhere from 8:30 to 9:20 minute miles, then the half marathoners turned around and the badasses remained. There was this new sense of camaraderie in the air, runners cheering/motivating each other. People telling their running stories. I have to admit, I didn't feel as into it as last year, something seemed missing. I kept up with 'em until after 13, then I fell behind a little bit, then a little more. I only allowed myself to walk through the water stations, and after mile 20 at the mile markers. My knees started getting sore, then my hips. No bueno. I think I started too fast. When I run long distances I tend to go slower - I expended too much, too soon. So, I was a little disappointed in myself, just because I was really hoping for that sub-4. It was hard to get past that, especially when the 4:10 group passed me. Bummer man, missing my last year's time. But, I have to remind myself that I ran a marathon, some people can't do that. Also, I trained longer than last year, did an 18 the Sunday before the race, which could've had some affect on my performance. Some crazy lady I ran with for a bit was talking about how she ran a marathon the Sunday before - that's pure insanity. Why? What would ever possess you? Then, when we were talking about that, some lady fell. Straight up fell, hands/knees scraped, but she got right back up, kept moving - hardcore. Wow. I totally sprinted like a mad woman at the end, just wanted to be done. Today I was reading my Runner's World and it said something about that, and how I didn't push myself hard enough during the race if I was able to step it up so much. I shouldn't beat myself up about all this stuff, but rather learn from it for the next race. Chicago Marathon, October '08!! I'm stoked. Flat land, thank goodness! So, serious training for that will begin at the end of May. Yes! I can't wait for summer in the city! Cool cat looking for a kitty. Meow!

Exciting news! I chopped my hair off today - I really did it!! 12 inches, adios, farewell, they're gone and in a bag in my purse. I mail it off to Locks of Love, tomorrow. So, I need to stop writing and start preparing all the shit I need to get done before I go into work. And, this is a bummer, I feel something ichy in my throat. No! I will not get sick! Damnit!! I took some Airbourne, and I like E-mer-genC way better. What else. Oh, my friend Erin and I went to Neo-Futurists tonight, and we saw this show "Unitards" (about HS retards wanting to wrestle) and it was hilarious, reminded me of "Strangers with Candy" in the sense of being an after school special, it was raunchy and wrong on so many levels, so duh! I loved it. Okay, seriously. Later, gator. Peace, love and sexual healing.

Speaking of, I'm - wow, I can't even believe I did it... I signed up and made a profile on match.com. Yeah, I know. I don't know, I'm going to give it a try. I'm lonely, and maybe I'll find someone... it could be fun. I was just playing around with it at first, and then I came home last night, slightly intoxicated and feeling sad, so I wrote a belligerent biography and put up some silly photos. So far, I've had some serial-killerish/lame ass guys message me, but there are some attractive ones... I don't know how to go about introducing myself to delicious men, and then if I ever would, they're either married, dating or gay... maybe even not interested, but what? Why? I'm pretty fucking phenomenal, I think. I hope. I'm witty and clever, and I have impeccable tastes. Tell your single sexy man friends living in the Chicagoland area.

I'm a little disturbed...

My, my, my. I don't even know where to start. I've been feeling lonely lately, in the romantic sense. Seeing as how it's been since the beginning of October, since anything, anything has happened. Oh, wait. Excuse me. There was one night, maybe in January... where a 19 year-old was hitting on me at the Blue Fugue, in CoMO, but I'm pretty sure he was shwasted, he got my number and tried to "walk" me home, but I had a bike, and that resulted in him running along side/chasing me for a while, until I pulled over and said, "Hey, seriously. Stop." after jokingly saying, "Oh no, no, no, no." And then he text messaged me about dinner, ooooooh. No. Oh yeah, and I gave him a bird peck kiss, cause he asked... sometimes I do stupid things because I don't want to hurt people's feelings, but that was dumb. Anyway, what I was getting at - the loneliness. Tonight, in my cab, on the way home from work, I was just thinking how nice it would be to go to sleep with a guy next to me, instead of cradling my teddy bear, "Pandy" (he's a panda, I was an original child), and to have someone to love and hug all the time, and do things with, like take walks and hold hands... And thinking all these thoughts made me get a frowny face, and I tried to tell myself that I'm fabulous and I'm doing all these wonderful things with my life, things that I might not've done if I had a boyfriend right now... like moving to Chicago, and being a fabulous single city girl. Whatever! I don't know where I was going with that, but it also made me think about how no guy has ever asked me out, ever! Ever! Never. Ever. And that made me sad. I've always asked guys out on dates. Always me, never them. And that fact blows my balls (if I had them, which I don't, and if I did, that would explain them not asking me out). My mom always says, "The boys are intimidated by your beauty." And I say, "Stop being a lying liar, Mom. You're just saying that because you're my mom." And she is. The only guys that hit on me are homeless men, and they just want my money; old men, and they just want my youth; or drunk men, and they don't know what's going on. If anything, the boys are intimidated by my outrageous awkwardness, or something... I don't know.

But anyway, I don't mean to be a whiny baby. I've decided to wait maybe a couple more days, weeks, months... and then, I'm going to start buying cats, and more cats, and then maybe some dogs, that way something will love me - and I'll turn into the crazy spinster lady on the block, kids running by my house, screaming. It might be fun. Wait. No, I didn't even plan on blogging tonight. Blogging. What is that? What's the point of this. It's like a journal, but it's not, because I'm saying, "Hey. Everybody come read my personal thoughts." Blogging's kinda sexy/voyeuristic in that sense. Hot!

Okay, so I come home, through the front door (as usual, duh), and as I'm passing through the living area, towards the kitchen, and further beyond, my room, my roommate, Filthy pops out of his room. Oh. Man. He's drunk, hits against the door jam, and slurs, "Hey! You wanna drink?" Which I reply, "Sure!" and then he slurs, "Yeah, let's drink!" And he stumbles into his mess of a room, and gets me a Milwaukee's Best (yum! - sarcasm). I don't enter his room, A) b/c it's filthy, and 2) because on the outside of his door, he's tacked all these awful things about himself, like, "Filthy, you're a waste of a soul" and "Life is one big circle jerk" and "Failure" and "Obsolete" and a picture of a pretty girl, and an arrow to it that says, "You'll never have this, don't even try" and all the horrible things, and I can't help but feel bad for him. What's happened to this man? He ruefully says he's celebrating. "Celebrating what, Filthy?" I say. "The fact that I haven't touched a woman in 15 months." And I thought I was lonely! And he goes on to say awful things about himself, and I contradict him, telling him he's a great guy, and smart and funny, because he is. He's a genuine person, and despite the fact that he got our heat shut off for the 5 coldest days in March, he is. I took all the notes off his door, and then he asked me not to leave, but I went to throw the paper in the trash, and then he mumbled more bad things about himself and closed his door. So, I poured myself a glass of Jerry Garcia Merlot (b/c the label is a pretty volcano watercolor) and said, "Hey, Filthy! You want some ice cream. Ice cream always makes me feel better." And that's probably another reason why I don't have a boyfriend, because occasionally, to daily, I eat my feelings. But anyway, he said no. So, I took my glass of wine, and my pint of ice cream (no. I'm not going to eat it all. I'm not high, right now) and came into blog.

We're all lonely. We're always going to be living month to month, stuck in this rat race. These are more things he said. And I said, "We're not here for a long time, Filthy. We're here for a good time." I read that somewhere. I won't take credit. But I do believe it. Life's hard. Life has always been hard. Life will always be hard. If it's not one thing, it's something else. And you've just got to try the best you can, make it what you can. And I try. I get sad and mad, but I try not to stay sad and mad because it just makes things harder. And I wish I wasn't so lonely, so sometimes when I get lonely I try to do something that will make me happy, like phone a friend, or run, or smile a lot, or sing a song, or something else that will make me feel great, like watching funny things on youtube. I'm rambling now, so this - writing is another thing that makes me happy.

I haven't written any scripts in a while. I've got some ideas floating around in my head, and I think that's okay, because I had a playwriting professor who knows Edward Albee (one of my heroes), personally, and he said that Ed said that he walks around with characters inside his head for years, sometimes, before he can write them out. He walks with them, talks with them, so he can understand them, and convey their thoughts and emotions truthfully. This is getting way off topic. That's my one big problem as a writer, I would say. That, and my grammar. Fuck grammar. I write like I talk. I do what I want. My problem, I'm tangentical. Is that a word? I want to change the world. I want to do improv. I want to act. I've always wanted to, but I'm scared. I'm afraid of rejection - but who isn't?! I wish I wasn't such a baby. Throw me a pacifier and a blanket. Wah, wah! Someday, maybe I'll get sick of wishing and starting doing. YEAH!

Alright, you keep it real, cyber abyss. And I'll keep writing to the nothingness to soothe my loneliness. And maybe I'll write Filthy a note of something my mom said my Great-grandpa Fonz ("Fonce") used to say, "From the time that you're born, 'til you ride in a hearse, there's nothing so bad, that it couldn't be worse." He fought in one (or both) World Wars (what a horrible thing, war, but that's another blog post all together), PTSD. Once at a campfire, when the fire popped, he jumped behind a log, or something, and shook like a baby. Could you imagine? How awful? Oh, I'm getting angry about... no, I won't dive in that pond tonight, but human cruelty is the thing that makes me the angriest. Life is hard, you know it, I know it. Why purposely make it worse, when you don't have to? Communication is key. Anyway. I've strayed waaaaaaaaay far away from what I meant to say, and I keep writing for no particular reason other than the fact that I impress myself with my super-fast typing ability and the sound of my fingers smoothly striking the keys. Stop! Okay, I will. Peace and love. Lateeeeer.