Real Life? Yikes.

"If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. Do what you love and fuck the rest."

When I was about 5 years old, my mom got me purple cowboy boots. I guess they were really cowgirl boots, since they were purple and suede, and made to fit a little girl, but either way, I wore them with everything, and I wore them everywhere. Then I stumbled upon the book Chesters Way by Kevin Henkes, followed by Lillys Purple Plastic Purse, where one of the characters, Lilly, always wore red cowboy boots. With the exception that Lilly was clearly a mouse, this character was me. Lilly was a carefree soul, who jumped and danced and sang as she strode through life, one simple day at a time, swinging her purple (though, I think it may have been violet?) pleather-synthetic purse through the air.

The other day I was sorting through books at work, and Chesters Way emerged through the pile, staring me straight in the face. I sat down and read the book. Followed by Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse. For those brief moments, I felt five and simple and wonderful.

It's getting hard to see through the fog of money and necessity. I'm starting to see how people so easily lose their hopes and dreams the day a diploma is placed into their hand - and it frightens me to think that I could so efforlessly do the same. It's so easy to get comfortable and settle, because money makes life a little bit easier, and things like food and electricity are pretty much essential to living.

My dad and I have had numerous arguments and fights about this very topic, and my school loan payments start in just a few days. I'm starting to see the things I want get further and further from my grasp, and the dullness of the everyday is now becoming the ordinary. How can you save for a life and a future if you are constantly stuck paying for your past?

A few weeks ago I bought a new pair of boots. They're not quite cowboy, and they're not quite purple - but it's certainly a start. Right? Post-college life is not the ideal dream I had hoped it would be. I'm not living in my own apartment on the Upper East Side. But I'm getting closer.

When I Discovered YouTube, I Didn't Work For Five Days

I literally just spent the past 30 minutes google-ing my name, followed by google-ing my friends' names. It's weird seeing other people out there with the exact same name as you, doing things like cinematography, or working in corporate America.


I highly suggest that you google people you either don't like, or have beef with as well - some very interesting facts emerge. More on that to come, for shizzle.


This is my last weekend of The Rocky Horror Show! I'm so upset, I LOVE this show, and this cast, and everyone involved (for the most part?). More on that as well, when it's not 2:30am and I don't have work in 6 hours.

Inspector Gadget

Much has happened in the past 3 weeks! And so much more is ahead! Whoa!

Two weeks ago, on October 20th, I had emergency gall bladder surgery. What?! Yes. No way! It's true. At 23 years old, I had over 100 gallstones floating around in the nasty little non-vital organ, which caused over 8 hours of pain, an ambulance ride, 4 days in the hospital, surgery, and lots of morphine - and now I'm good! Sore, but healing. I didn't have much time to recoperate, with Rocky Horror opening this past weekend. I'm so happy to have made it back, because it's probably the best production I've done at Kelsey to date, and our Midnight show on Halloween practically sold out with crazies. Love it. I just wish I was able to dance 100 percent. I'm probably at 85. And that does not float my boat.

In high school, someone read my palm, and said that my palms life-line had a split in it, and that some sort of health problem might come along and put me out of commission for a split second, but then I'd be back. If I decide that I do, in fact, believe that, then let this have been my split second please! I'm crazy.

One more weekend of Rocky Horror (but I love this cast, could it last forever please?), then two weeks of The King and I, and then I start one of my two new choreography jobs that I am so excited about! I'm going to be choreographing the winter musical for The Pennington School, and then The Wiz at Kelsey! Plus I want to audition. For other shows, not those. And work. Which, if they don't start giving me more hours, I need to find a new job. Awesome.

See? I'm completely scattered. I would freelance forever if I could. Except as of now, I'm broke. Like, I literally don't have a dollar to my name. And I just got pulled over for the first time last night for NOT running a red light. Cops are jerks! I'll fight! And I'll win. Because I'm pretty. And wear a green skull bra in Rocky.

Go-go Gadget scatterbrain!

Ewwwww

The largest centipede I have ever seen just ran across my living room floor. I wasn't wearing any shoes to step on it with, so I grabbed the first thing I could find to throw at it, which happened to be a box of tissues. Failure. Then I grabbed the next thing on the table, a newspaper - but it was only the first page. Strike two. Then I grabbed the giant yellow phone book, and smashed it like, 5 times. I was so grossed out I just left it there under the phone book (hopefully dead, I'm too freaked out to check), and now I feel like I have a thousand legged creatures crawling all over me. I think my life just flashed before my eyes. I have to go vomit now.

Iced Tea and Milano Cookies, Please?

Today at work, Meredith, one of the Cafe girls, said I was cool.

I've been getting a lot of 7am shifts, which, suprisingly, I am really enjoying. I have in no way gotten used to the whole getting-up-at-6am-and-being-awake deal, or the going-to-bed-at-a-decent-time-so-I-get-more-than-4-hours-of-sleep shebang, HOWever, I love being in the store for two hours prior to being open. There is an actual peacefulness and quaint vibe that circulates through the dust covered bays and endcaps that omits a sort-of relaxed aura. That, mixed with the smell of freshly ground coffee and slightly burnt oatmeal-raisin cookies, really sets you off on a good start for the day. At least for the first two hours, before the customers come in.

This is also about the time when I secretly sneak over to our cafe and order my new liquid crack: a grande soy hot chocolate with a squirt of pumpkin syrup. We're not actually allowed to be served when we're on the clock, but I don't care. I'd shoot that pumpkin syrup through my veins.

This morning, as I slid behind the New Fiction Release Bay to obtain my drug-of-choice, Matt jokingly whispered "Excuse me Ma'am, but we don't serve working employees". I simply tilted my eyes upwards and to the left, as I pulled on my nametag, releasing it from my neck (thanks strangle-free lanyards!), and then smiled sweetly without saying a word. This then prompted Meredith to reply with "Ha, she is so cool!" .

Now lets be real - any of you that know me know for a fact that "cool", is no where near a word that would describe me. Slightly quirky, maybe. Randomly spastic and clumsy? Perhaps. Cool? No. Yet hearing her say that to me made me feel just the slightest bit, shall we say, cool. Even if only for a quick moment, before dropping my nametag at my feet, then having to crouch down and accidentally crack my ankles on the way to pick it up.

I guess it's just nice to know that there is always someone, somewhere, that thinks you're cool. And I just like that picture. It makes me feel even cooler. Jealous?

Tina Fey deserves An Oscar. For Awesome.

Saturday Night Live has become, well...terrible. It's awful. With the exceptions, of course, of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler (Wet Hot and UCB fame!), the show has literally fallen down a well without a rope. However. Watching the VP Debate SNL style proved to be far more entertaining than the actual one. Since the NBC link is all kinds of messed up, I leave you with this oddly disturbing skit you can't help but laugh at. Maybe because it makes you so uncomfortable?

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

I always tend to pull this blog up right as I'm about to head to sleep, and then get distracted and write. I'm still playing with this. A strictly factual blog? A whatever-is-on-my-mind blog? I usually set out on these ventures with some sort of idea of where it's heading. This one is blind and can't find it's glasses.

I turned 23 yesterday. It was rather uneventful, and slightly disappointing. I don't know what it is I expect - I'm 23 years old, not 8. Birthday's aren't big deals, right? Yet, somehow, I expected something different. Something special. From someone special, maybe? I tend to find myself repeatedly...disenchanted, perhaps. I can't seem to place it. I think that's always been a slight problem of mine - I have extremely high expectations of almost everything I do and everyone I meet - but shouldn't I? Is it not important to set high standards for yourself? I have friends that have told me they set their expectations low - that way, they are never disappointed and consistently impressed. I don't agree with this at all, and I don't care if that makes me a snob (which, now that I think about, may be the exact definition of such a trait?). In high school, my mom used to say I was a cultural snob because I was always going to museums and galleries and shows. I take it as a compliment. I'm cultured!

The occasional feeling of disillusionment has never sat well with me, and I don't intend to keep it around. It's literally that little cartoon dark cloud following me wherever I go. I feel guilty and culpable and almost constantly anxious, all view points I don't agree. Gloomy! That's what it is. I feel gloomy. Maybe it's the rain we had last week. Maybe it's my birthday, which now seems to come along with a slight depression. Maybe it's a who.

I'll call. I *love* the fall.