so it's back...

I've put my blog back on blogger, because I can't update on iWeb enough...and I'm working on a new site. Stay tuned for details

big blog is moving...

For this blog - there is a new address, in case my three readers care to visit. Click on the title of the post for linkage. Other blogs here will stay here. If anyone is curious - there's BarbieDreamHouse, which describes my absolute domestic fantasy.

I wish...

If wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets.

I'd cast my net in the deep blue waters of the pacific, kelp beds and reefs brimming with rainbow fish. I'd even settle for a giant lily pad in the middle of a koi pond. A black sand beach to soak up all the tropical heat. A drink with umbrellas and sliced sugarcane. A brightly printed red and purple sarong. A gallon of sunscreen. A ridiculous hat and giant sunglasses. Fish tacos. Ahi tuna. Sashimi. Curry. Tabasco. Learning to Hula. No Poi. A new tattoo. Platanos and cumin and basil. Feeling blessed heat seep through my skin and through my chilled bones. Swimming in bathwater temperature calm seas. Turning into a mermaid.

serendipity!

I have found a ready source of all of the retro humor I can possibly want. I'm not telling. I am, however, going to use them, not for personal gain, but for personal enjoyment.

This particular one appeals to me at the particular moment - when there's been SO much sinning.

just spitting...

Not only the rain, but spitting mad. I've already ranted last month about ridiculous imcompetence, but now I'm just furious. Not only had the audition notice gone out for the show that I was all but PROMISED a lead in - or at least a legitimate shot at consideration, but it's gone out with an AEA tag on it. WHERE THE HELL are they going to get the money to pay scale. Not to mention that any AEA actor would demand a lead for her/himself. ^%@#$@%&^%^$#!!!!!!.

AEA is Actor's Equity (something). Actor's union. Hardcore. Freakin' incompetent imbeciles. Nice.

driving blind...

Rain. I like rain. Usually. Today I don't like rain. There's a special condition that tends to result from heavy drizzle+low sun+spray from cars going entirely too fast, that resembles pea soup fog. The little dots that indicate which lane you're in dissappear. The knuckles become white. You start to pray for your exit. I did, however, manage not to freak out, because it was yet another late night. I think I was too tired to freak, fortunately.

I'm tired. Tuckered. Last regular appointment and I got all weird and emotional last night. It certainly doesn't help that she's the only Grinberg practitioner in the entire Western US. I feel reft and bereft and abandoned. I've made giant leaps in the last month, and I don't know if I'll be able to maintain them without help. Driving blind indeed. Only this time in the metaphorical sense. I have very few people to answer to now for my actions. and no one whom I really trust with all the ickyness of the past.

On to the Trader Joe's Mixed Berry Nonfat Yogurt. And Carrots. And Bran Snacks. at least I can conquer the diet demons of the past...

two of many...

Someone likes me today. Even though it's spitting and raining and miserable, I went out to get lunch, and everyone was really really REALLY friendly. I got major teriaki chicken over rice, and the kid behind the counter apparently need to talk, about anything. They ended up giving me a HUGE portion, because the large lady making it probably thinks I need some meat on my bones. And there's a guy here who's sort of flirting with me, according to one of my co-workers. and the guy in question is just my type - big an bearlike.... uh oh.

Now if I don't have a lapse in energy around 3 ppm, it'll be a very good day indeed.

one of many...

Posts today. In fact I'm feeling the overwhelming urge to write - lots. Not only am I still thinking about the novel (I never really stop thinking about the novel - even when I'm freaking out about random acts of blind dating) - but I've met at least two new people who are simply fascinating. Amazingly enough - they are fascinating not because of their physical atractiveness or their potential as lifelong mates (I don't think I believe in that anymore), but as people. Actual straight male people. How long does it really take to wake up and grow up and see the members of the opposite sex as other than either a collection of intoxicating, or annoying, traits?

I assuage my mortification with the fact that most women don't wake up at all. I've been through the heights of anxiety and the deeps of dissappointment in just three short days (drama queen much?) and have come out somewhat unscathed. I managed to acquire some really funky sugar and creamer sets (2 to be exact) and four dessert plates, along with assorted candy dishes, which, in true fashion, I am using as soapdishes and pen holders. I met a terribly interesting and fairly grumpy (to be fair, he was hung over in a very green way) writer/PR person this weekend. I also met a perishingly interesting and horribly attractive musician. And I'm not freaking out. Much.

Growing up sucks, most of the time, but then sometimes it helps you get the hell out of your confining cocoon.

stage fright...

... can be sort of explained on Wikipedia's entry on Glossophobia - meaning the fear of speaking in front of people. To those who suffer from stage fright - it extends to performing of any kind. Situations that can and have previously inspired this particular feeling include: recitals, opening nights, proms, first read- or sing- throughs, first dress rehearsals, auditions, either singing or cold read, going to a new place for the first time, and first dates, especially blind dates.

Symptoms can include such things as butterflies, loss of hearing, disctractedness, nausea, gastro-intestinal distress, heart flutterings, catches in the breath, small instances of euphoria, numbness in the hands, gas, and soreness of the abdominal muslces due to holding one's breath.

Other symptoms can also result in the application of far too much makeup and hairspray, which is bad for the pores and the hair. Not to mention the wearing of shorter skirts than usual, higher heels, and the sinking suspicion that none of this is helping anyhow. And then it could result in the feeling that one is wasting one's time anyhow, because one is as ugly as a post after all, and no amount of paint will disguise an ugly post. And then one may just drink too much, and do things she won't be able to tell her friends later.

The best way to counterract some of the more negative effects of stage fright are to; drink before going out, and thereby stave off nerves, apply more makeup and change the clothes a half dozen times, and then go back to the original outfit that you feel comfortable in all day anyhow, take another shower, re-do the hair and curse at the fact that it's STILL raining. Or take a nap and miss the whole thing altogether.

One thinks in fragments:

More lipstick?
Redder Lipstick?
OW!
Goddamn door handle/table edge, oven door, any sharp thing that can be run in to!
Curlers or Iron?
Have I touched up my toes yet?
Crap! Nail polish on carpet!
I need to eat.
I'm going to throw up any minute.
I wish I had done my roots two weeks ahead of time.
GAH! Spray nozzle on fave perfume stick open!
I don't have time to shower again!
I'll just call and say I'm late.
I'll just call and say I'm dead.
I don't have his number!
I need to eat.
I'm going to throw up any minute.
Coffee!
Great, now I'm completely wired.
Goddamn rain!
Maybe if I listen to Bonnie Tyler a hundred times, it'll make the time go faster.
Maybe if I hide he won't notice this giant blemish.
More mascara!
Ow! My eyes!
Crap - contact fell out! Into pot of bright red lipstick! No cleaning solution!
I look like an idiot in my glasses.
I can't see out of my glasses.
I want to cry.
I'll just call and say I'm late.
I'll just call and say I'm dead.
Wait, have I eaten today?
What day is today?
I need to eat.
I'm going to throw up any minute.
Am I really this ugly?
I've got a headache.
I need tea.
I need a cigarette.
I need valium.

I'm so nervous.

delirium...

...has set in and is putting up curtains. I got about 3.5 hours of sleep, and I haven't quite started hallucinating, but I'm getting damn close. and so I'm resting my addled brain a little (or even a lot) and reading Wikipedia - which is way better than any old stuffy Encyclopedia Britannica, thanks - and I found that one article on flirting from Psychology Today. (click the headerline of this post to be magically transported)

I love this sentence:
"The moment of attraction, in fact, mimics a kind of brain damage."
and this:
"In attraction, we don't stop and think, we react, operating on a "gut" feeling, with butterflies, giddiness, sweaty palms and flushed faces brought on by the reactivity of the emotional brain. We suspend intellect at least long enough to propel us to the next step in the mating game-flirtation."

I do believe that I've posted about this article, because I fixated on the "ideal waist-to-hip ratio" thing. Now, I really don't care. I suppose its a direct result of the fact that I'm exhausted, and going out again tonight. Ah, the life of the free-wheeling blonde. I forgot how much sleep I don't get when I'm single.