I Want...

Every time I go to a play, I want to be an actor. Every time I go to a concert, or turn on the radio for that matter, I want to be a singer. Every time I read a book I want to write one. When I make a really good meal, I want to feed the masses. Every time I go to the grocery store, I ... buy too many snacks. My mom reminded me tonight that she knew a man once who was a mail carrier so that he had time to dedicate to his true love, the study of philosophy. Maybe I'm asking to much of work?
I have abandoned my sleeping loft and rigged up a system where most of me lies on the loveseat, while my legs are propped up on the coffee table which is piled high with a folded duvet. I slept better there last night than I have in weeks. I had been having dreams that left me feeling sad and hopeless in the morning, but last night I met my good friend Gregers in my dreams! He threw his arms around me and lifted me up in a huge twirly hug. That feeling of mutual dearness, holding on to someone I am so overjoyed to be near, that doesn't happen to me a lot in the life I live right now! In other worlds I have been surrounded by huggers, leaners, snugglers and the like. I want more of those!

Stop the ride, I wanna get off!

I'm going to become an activist. My cause is not as grand as feeding hungry kids or creating new energy sources or even getting people to fix their free roaming dogs and cats. I think they need to inform movie-goers if the film they are about to see has been shot with a single camera! Somebody once told me that this is the technique which gives the picture that boat-on-a-choppy-sea feeling. Too many times I have innocently purchased tickets to see an acclaimed film only to leave the theater at the end of it sick from simulated motion! I'm a sensitive one; pretty much anywhere but the driver's seat of a car is bound to make me queasy. Oddly enough I'm fine on boats!
Anyway, back to my cause. The first time I encountered this edgy yet nauseating film trick was in Breaking the Waves. I saw it in Paris. As the film wore on I felt progressively sicker and I began to wonder what I might have eaten that was so disagreeable to my stomach. I only figured it out when I had left the theater and walked home in the fresh air; it was exactly like a nice walk after a long ride in the back of a car!
Since then I have been trapped again and again and like a sucker I sit there and take it! Culprits include Pieces of April, The Bourne Supremacy, and Happy Endings. (The latter was compounded by the fact that it was a sold out Philly Film Fest showing and the only seats left were extra chairs added in front of the regular seating, about a foot from the screen. The only benefit to this front row situation was that there was no one in front of me to be yacked upon. It was a great movie, and I was able to just get through it only by standing at the back of the theater.)
Tonight was the first time I took a step for mankind, left the movie (which was also mind numbingly dull and depressing) and asked the manager for a refund. Oh I got the free pass to another movie all right, but as the manager it to me, his look seemed to say "I know you're lying but I don't care enough to argue with you"... and he called me girl! He was my age!
Screw the explicit lyric advisory! We need warnings on single camera films!
Caution! This film may cause motion sickness. Sensitive patrons are advised to medicate, or stay the hell out of the theater!

Unnamed Craving

At dinner tonight, I had trouble deciding what to order. I drank water because I couldn't describe the drink I wanted, and yet I could taste it! After class I stopped at Whole Foods for some groceries, excited because it had been a while since anything new entered my fridge. They were closing in five minutes and I desperately darted up and down the aisles and ended up with water, yogurt and a quesadilla for my lunch tomorrow. Not as exciting as what I'd pictured. I've been checking in with all my favorite blogs and online journals, looking to read something that will make me say "Yes! That is the truth!" but everybody seems so damn cheerful while the truth for me is that I don't feel whole! I can't legitimately complain about anything, but I'm unfed in an inexplicable way. There's nothing to do for such an affliction but wait and listen. Eventually the truth will appear.

Swimmers, take your marks!

It's very sad, but I've become busy and boring! I'm teaching a summer drama camp for 3 weeks and it is sucking up my life! I am enjoying it well enough, the kids are sweet, I like directing a play, but I was so ready to let go of being a responsible example and here I am doing it 7 hours a day, 5 days a week!
This morning I got a lead on a house sitting possibility in San Diego and I'm trying not to be desperate, but THIS WOULD SAVE MY LIFE! It's at the right time, in the right place and would help so many other things fall nicely into place! Fingers crossed!
During various summers of my life I have made commitments to swimming laps. Swimming is about the only exercise that doesn't leave me depressed by my own inabilities. I used to put up a chart on the wall of my grandmothers bath house to record my accomplishments. The biggest challenge for me is getting into cold water! So I said that little starting rhyme: "one for the money, two for the show, three for" and at this point I would insert a wish (which during my teenage years was usually for some boy to notice me) and if I didn't jump right in the pool on "and four to go" it would not come true.
Right now I feel like I'm standing on the edge of the pool and I've got to get the hell out of Philadelphia on four, or my wish will not come true. But before I jump I've got to finish camp and move out of this crummy apartment. Oh, the call of the open road is deafening!

Save TIme and Money!

I have had a truly brilliant original idea and I would like to document it here so I can have credit when it becomes famous. Well, I'm sure others may have thought of it simultaneously, but I still think it's brill!
When I park my car in a spot with a time limit or a meter, I set the alarm on my cell phone to go off in enough time for me to move the car or slug the meter and avoid a ticket! It's so simple and yet so genius!
Update on my writing class: I feel badly for maligning the class. Many of my classmates are quite good and I have plenty to learn from them. And I actually wrote something that they liked, so I'm feeling more generous!
Although apparently my posts have gone to crap!

Messages from the Universe or Even Steven

Yesterday was my last day of school, possibly ever. It was a beautiful day, filled with hugs and presents. It lacked nothing, but I kept having this panicked feeling that this was my last chance; to do what, I don't know. After school I went for mani/pedis with Nicole, Ilene, Bella, Sage and Leah. We were all out of cash, so we went to Wawa...where I realized I'd left my wallet at home. This began an unsettling, something's missing feeling that persisted until just moments ago and will doubtless resurface. Ilene spotted me nail money, but we were going out to dinner later and then I was driving out to green pastures, and, oh god, I had no gas in the car, whose check engine light had been on for a week! You see how it was. So while pampering and Mexican food were lovely, the day was permeated with panic from Wawa on.
After a good night's sleep I was sure all would be well. I had a leisurely, late morning, sat down to pay a few bills before walking across town to meet Lise and Diego for a matinee of Godspell. AGH! When I opened my credit card bill, I saw that the minimum payment had doubled since last month! I gotta lose Bank of America people, they are suckin' me dry! Whatever, I wrote the check and dropped it in the mailbox on the way to the theater. Lise had gotten the tickets through her friend in the show and I stopped at the handy Wawa to get money to pay her back. WTF? The ATM could not "process" my card. It's like the universe was testing my resolve. "Do you really have what it takes to drive across the country by yourself and start a new life on absolutely nothing? Are you sure you wouldn't rather move into your parents' basement and get an office job?" When I found Lise in front of the theater, I was flustered and peevish. She said don't sweat the $10 ticket and we went in to the show.
They had totally redone it! The songs had new arrangements and there were a few subtle political statements, but underneath it was the same old biblical wisdom. At the line "Don't worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will take care of itself", Lise looked over at me and I remembered that that was true. We walked back through town afterwards in the bright sun and strong breeze, and said goodbye at their parking lot. They go to Italy on Tuesday and by the time they get home, I'll be gone. We've known each other since we were 4 and we've weathered bigger separations, but this just brings my eventual departure one step closer to home.
When I arrived home I had a pile of mail! By the outsides of the envelopes I knew, money coming, money going, more ways to manage the money you owe. Given my recent money karma, I gritted my teeth as I opened each envelope. A check, not bad! Dentist bill, $17 after insurance! PECO, it doesn't take much to power a shoebox! Last but not least, the IRS. This can't be money because when I filed I had owed them. But, low and behold, it was a letter saying that, after correcting an error on my form, they owed me $480! Now let's hope that covers whatever made the check engine light come on in the car!

Walking Too Far In Someone Else's Shoes Will Give You Blisters

I have not done a lick of writing homework and am generally bemoaning the feeling that I am unfit for any kind of work, gainful or no. It is very easy for me to wallow in self pity, and even easier because there is nobody here to say "snap out of it", and the self pity is enforced by the fact that all signs point to me being ridiculous and selfish for giving up a job I was perfectly good at and heading into the unknown at the ripe age of soon-to-be 32. There are not many places that one can look for reassurance in my situation! But in my late-night internet ramblings I came across SARK's website. No not Julian Sark, the super hottie from Alias. Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, the author of many books on inspiration and creativity. All the situations I have been aspiring to are looking for "energetic","physically fit" helpers and it all makes me feel like a lazy pool of slime. SARK advocates frequent naps and caters to procrastinators and introverts, describing herself as one too. This is a wagon I can leap onto! There is a place for every one of us in the world without our needing to be remodeled! It is just so hard to know who we are if we have spent a lifetime trying to be what we thought was expected!

After Midnight

Mice are my homies, but I still don't like being woken up in the middle of the night hearing one scritch-scratching two feet from my head! Have I written before of my fear that they will bite off my hair for their nest? Talk about odd phobias!

I have been trying out a 'spring cleanse' diet. It's very specific: 2 glasses of water upon rising, breakfast=1 piece of room-temperature fruit and a bowl of plain, cooked whole grains (separated by half an hour), a glass of water saved from the steaming of vegetables at 11 and 3, a bowl of steamed veggies for lunch and dinner, and lots of water and herb tea throughout the day. It's supposed to clean out all your hibernating toxins and give your liver a break. Monday morning I was committed to a week of it, by noon I thought three days was sufficient, and around 5:30pm I was ready for a hamburger. The real test will be getting through the ice cream party I'm giving my choristers tomo...today. I'm doing it not just for my liver, but because I refuse to buy any more pants, and I was down to only 2 pairs that fit me.

I'm supposed to go hear this singer/songwriter dude from MySpace in Manayunk tonight, anybody want to go?

I think we could make insomniac ramblings into its own genre.

Sports Therapy

This afternoon I played volleyball for an hour and a half.
WHAT?
I'm sure that's how anyone who knows me would react to my opening statement. I usually hate sports because I am not terribly gifted athletically and someone is always yelling at me for letting the team down. Or at least the were when I was a kid and the yelling usually persists in my head. But I was playing with my students. I am my best self around them because they see nothing but the best in me.
We played boys against girls. There were so freakin' many girls that it was a wonder there was any ground left uncovered on our side of the net for the ball to hit. And yet time and time again, the ball found the grass and the boys scored a point. What was so great was that absolutely nobody cared. When we did get the ball back over the net to score a point, every one of my teammates threw their hands in the air and let out the girliest scream they had in them! Some of the boys thought the screaming was fun so they started doing it too. The boys may have been kicking our butts in volleyball, but we had the screaming thing down!
My feet are cold and muddy and I'm worn out from playing outside. It's like being a kid again with no unpleasant yelling!

On A Low Note

I was very conscienciously doing my daily writing work for my class this past week and, as I feared, had nothing left for ASVL.
I had not thought to fear that this more disciplined kind of writing would yield such crap! We were supposed to work on projects we already had going, so I tried to flesh out Home Sweet Hole, one of my favorite posts. At first I just stared at the screen. It had seemed so complete, how could I keep going with it? But eventually I got started, and came back to it for a couple of days. I was proud of myself for doing what was assigned, a practice I wasn't too into in college. After I thought I had improved it, I dabbled with a couple of other story ideas I'd had, but nothing came out feeling terribly finished.
So, last night at class a) I was late because I thought it was smart to drive and I couldn't find a parking spot. I had to walk 6 blocks anyway, when I probably only live ten blocks away, in the stinky, sticky Philly heat. I was tired and cranky and just wanted to be elsewhere, but I was going to class because I paid for it, godammit! And b) the first half of the class was spent reading samples of what we'd worked on which turned out to be largely around the themes of September 11 (2001, people!) and cruel childhoods. I have for the most part recovered from 9/11, largely due to the amount of other possibly more terrible things that have happened in the world since then. I did not by any stretch of the imagination have a cruel childhood. I had an ugly carpet in my apartment, that was my big conflict. When my turn came, I read the reworked post and it was excruciating! Between the reading and saying the words I knew them to be wrong. I wanted to stop reading and make up an excuse about bodysnatchers or something, but I hoped against hope that, once having been able to write pretty well, it would eventually resurface. It didn't. Crickets. The room was painfully unresponsive. The teacher suggested I might want to have something actually happen in the piece.
I'm a little discouraged, the city reeks, and my apartment is the temperature of one of the more serious levels of hell.