Happy New Year!

May you be well and truly kissed tonight. Always an auspicious start to a new year.

I will do my part to make sure as many people get kissed as possible. It's the least I can do.



I'm piggybacking on your wireless wave.

The holidays, the holidays. My eyes are so big and round right now. So caught in the headlights of boxing week sales. The never ending line up of people, all with questions, and in a hurry, and returns and exchanges and post over indulgence impatience and snappishness. It does take it out of a girl, though I maintained my good humour right up until the end of today. Where I just got tired. I snapped at my baby brother. Not without good reason, mind you, but without good timing. It did not take long to get unmad, though. It's just not good for the two of us to be angry at each other. We're each others' favorites. I'm excited to get a full night's sleep tonight.

I had the sweetest birthday. Oh, did I. In case you were wondering how it went, after all that mentioning. My dear friend PJ took me to the Canucks/Oilers game, and though we lost it was so so fun. I drank draft beer through a straw, and bounced around in my jersey, (purchased at a playoff game during the Canucks/Leafs series in '94..you, know, the good year), and yelled and made friends with everyone around us. And a lovely looking man in front of me made friends with me, and then called me the next day for a date. So that was nice, though should be mentioned not useful in any long term sense. Then we went and drank like fishes and more and more friends came, and Chris claims I got screechy, but I say boisterous. Anyway, it was delicious, that's for sure. Much birthday satisfaction.

Christmas was much the same, in terms of being satisfying. Though for different reasons. We went for Chinese food with some friends and family and another nice Jewish family we know also happened to be at the same Chinese restaurant. I love Jews on Christmas. Eatin' Chinese and waking up late and getting the day off but without stress. Also was the first night of Chanukah, which I am quietly celebrating by myself in my new little pad, with the menorah my stepfather gave me the year we were alone together in Los Angeles. The menorah itself it a bit worse for wear, not to mention the many moves it's been through since leaving stateside, and the candles are dollar store birthday candles, silver and fast burning. Chanukah lasts about three minutes. They are covered in this weird silver paint and sputter and crackle in a fire hazard kind of way, but I am very comforted by the entire moment. I have a nice photo of both my dads together, years ago, and I have it near the menorah. My guys.

I had an epiphany two nights ago. Maybe three. Yes, Christmas eve I had it. I was trying to figure out why I've been feeling so good and happy lately. It's because I'm not mad anymore. At anyone. I'm just free of anger. I mean, cut me off in traffic or be rude to me at the till and you could still make the little hairs on the back of my neck get prickly, followed by tone also getting prickly. I mean, no stale anger. Nothing leftover, carried over, strung through. Like, I'm over whatever came before, and it's ok now. I want to talk about this more, about how I think it's due almost entirely for the change in my relationship with my bio dad. It just feels very, very good, and I feel remarkably healed, and so very loving of him. And loved by him. So...I like the way things are.

By the way, if you ARE my bio dad, call me, because I'm not somewhere with a landline anymore and my cell phone is really expensive long distance and I don't have the internet at home so my email is going back to erratic.

If you are NOT my bio dad...um...you can call me, too, I guess, but I don't mean it the same way. For him it's, like, call me now, for you it's, like, call me whenever. Right?



Getting all fidgety.

Oooooooo....I'm so excited....it's my birthday! I love my birthday. Oooooooooo....I wonder what's gonna happen!

I'm going to solicit happy birthday greetings from every person I see. At least everyone I help at Banana Republic.

God, I love my birthday. I love that you can tell anyone it's your birthday and they will cheerfully and sincerely say, "Oh! Happy birthday!" What a day!


Dr. Rock and the Millenium Cats

I remember when I used to think that you couldn't really start living until you had figured life out. That you could not proceed forward until you had all the questions answered. Where on earth did I get that idea? Anyway, I'm happy to realize that the whole life thing is like this and that getting used to it and enjoying as much as you can along the way is probably going to behoove you.

I got away from myself in my head during that sentence, but hopefully my awkward little jumble of words conveyed my thoughts a little.

Just thinkin' on things.



I almost didn't write anything. I've been contemplating writing something every night for many nights. Then I log in, then I log out. Some weird thing about thinking I have nothing to say. Which may, indeed, be true. But it may not be. I may find I have something to say if I just keep punching. And, if only for my darling friend Graham Clark, (you may remember his name from an earlier post's title...), who has just begun to read my blog, and wants to know how often I write...I was tempted to say never, but it seems like I should try for at least once a week. Maybe more. Maybe if I write more, I'll have more to say. That's usually how it works. Keeps the muscles limber. The writing muscles. As opposed to other muscles, which do not get limber from writing, but rather stiff from sitting or sore from typing. But we all have our crosses to bear. (Ah, me.)

Banana Republic has turned out to be awfully pleasant. I actually enjoy my work day. I know that's a good thing, but it's very strange. Especially in light of the fact that the last go round with them, 2001, was such misery. I am different now, but they are, too. Nobody bothers me, which I like. That's the thing about joe jobs that generally gets me down. People bothering me. I like to know what my job is, then do it. If you let me do that, then I am a hardworking little drone. I spent a lot of time singing along to the Banana CD today, which ought to say something about my enjoyment level. It also says something about knowing all the words due to listening to the same CD over and over and over and over and over and over and over all day every day. For a month at a time. A premade Gap, Inc. CD. You will hear the very same CD playing right now in any Banana Republic in the world. Weird.

It does sort of sicken me to be an active part of the consumerist machine, a cog, if you will. It disturbs me and makes me need to stop listening to the part of my brain devoted to my values for several hours each day. On the other hand, sometimes in the course of my day I make people very happy, so that's nice. I do look forward, though, to the time when I can be part of something that makes a difference in the world. I wonder sometimes if comedy does that. I mean, I know that making people laugh is really important. It's so healthy for people to laugh, especially at themselves, so hopefully that's where my work can take people. But does my work have a social conscience? I'd like it to, or, at the very least, to be able to use it to further causes in which I believe.

Hm. I like the idea of my comedy making people laugh at themselves. I wonder how I can work a joke about vagina fat into socially conscious material. Vagina fat is the new funniest thing I have come up with. I mean, I didn't invent vagina fat, for crying out loud, but I do have it, and I think the phrase is hysterical. It sure produces hysterical laughter when you bring it up at a dinner table. I'm having t-shirts made. On the back they say "ask me about my...", and on the front they say, "...vagina fat", and there's an arrow pointing towards...drum roll...my vagina!! My mother will hate them, but I will laugh my ass off all day every day when I wear it. Plus, I'm going to put it on a tshirt that looks good on me. That way I'll wear it. Maybe just a shirt. Not a tshirt per se. (I love using "per se". Why? I sound like I have thought through what I am saying, or something. Plus, I don't think I, or anyone for that matter, ever use it quite right.)

Okay, Graham, this one's for you. Kiss kiss.

I'm happy.



Especially for Anonymous, (But you can read it, too.)

I got this fortune in a cookie today:

"You are capable, creative, energetic and generous. Prove it."

I think that pretty much says it all, don't you?



Tiny, melting snowmen - a Vancouver winter

It snows, it snows. For some reason it seems out of place to me, unexpected. I don't know what I thought the winter would be like, but probably I was thinking there wasn't even going to be a winter. Working out the logistics of working somewhere well heated where looking nice is paramount, and commuting trying to avoid the chill, the mud soaked pantlegs, hat hair, frizz.

Got a bus pass today, feel like royalty. Love not looking for change all the time, know that at least for this month, I can get up and go anytime. Finding the pace of commuting rather pleasant, if not the early mornings. Like the time on the bus, listening to my ipod, breathing deep to maintain patience. Trying to get a better bead on the timing of things, as have found that if I'm not running late, then it is much easier to keep a level head and a self satisfied smirk.

Am I making sense? I don't feel like I'm making too much sense lately.

Need to get this move over and done with, have taken my sweet ass time, though for good reasons.

Have been thinking a lot about the trip to Toronto. I think as much as it ignited something, it scared me, too. Siobhan said it best when she quoted Ross Geller (David Schwimmer, in real life) and said, "Nobody likes change". It's kind of true. I mean, it's kind of how I feel about flying. I like being at another destination, but I don't like getting there. I like the other side of change, the growth, the lesson, whatever form it takes, but I find the actual changing to be quite upleasant. Committing full time to standup scares me. I love it so much, what if I never get anywhere with it?

I am having a bit of an artist's think, it seems. Wondering if I can do all the things I want without compromising any of them. What compromises am I willing to make? Mostly, where do I want being a standup comic to lead? I love the Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls, (we had the most amazing trip to Bellingham this past weekend, by the way.), I don't want to give that up, but where is it taking me? Where do I want it to take me? Anywhere? Can it just be what it is and can I keep it and love it for that? If I do that, what bites does is take out of my standup?

Honestly, it just occurred to me that it feels quite luxurious to be contemplating these questions. Very first world issues.

What if I never leave Vancouver for the rest of my life? What if I leave and never come back? If my brother moves to Toronto, can it be far behind for me? I hate being apart from my brother. He took a short job in Toronto and so won't be back until late December. I'm keeping my fingers crossed he makes it home for my birthday, Dec. 21st. That's all I really want for my birthday. My brother around.



At your service.

Yes, yes, I still exist.

I have been back from Toronto for 5 days...and I'm surprisingly happy about it. This idea to move there...well...I am going to put it in my pondering cap and weigh some things out. Anyway, I have to hunker down here for the winter and write the damn show. Have had lots of offers of dramaturgy from good and talented people, so I better have something for them to dramaturg.

Was very tired when I got back, and kind of mistook it for malaise, but, in fact, am feeling quite pleased. Have sucked it up and am working in retail for the holidays. Back to the depths of hell I go, but, oh, so cheerfully. (La, la, la, can't wait to hear the same xmas music every day, all day, and be part of the chain of rampant consumerism. Hooray!) But a girl's gotta make her way.

Had lots of things in Toronto, comedy, family, art, music. Walked everywhere, my thighs are like steel pillars right now. Very satisfying.

Saw my bio dad for the first time in three and a half years. It was totally wonderful. For a while when we first saw each other I just sat next to him on the couch, his arm around me, having a little snuggle. I can't tell you how nice that was. How much I've been wishing for some real fatherly affection. It has gone a long way towards soothing me. Anyway, it can't be so long between visits again, it's too fraught with blame and misinformation. I don't think he even knew I was funny, even though I always have been. I guess me being funny hasn't really been part of our relationship, which is weird. I don't think I have ever been totally myself with either of my fathers. Gak. No energy for the hiding anymore.

Have received some nice accolades for my work since I got back to Vancouver, having developed a new character in Toronto who is very inspiring to me right now. Feeling a bit up in the air about where to focus myself. Do I quit improv and other things to focus solely on standup? I don't know. It would probably serve my standup, but I'm not sure I could do without the balance that theatre provides. Standup is such a hard edged community, and the theatre has lots of loveyness, which reminds me of the relaxed nature of my friends, and keeps me from turning into a complete asshole, which standup can encourage me to do.

Oof. I am nappy. I'm going to nap. I'll keep with the updates. Don't get all despondant and start phoning me with whiny requests to update my blog. Nonsense! Sometimes a girl just doesn't have anything to say. (Actually, in my case that's rarely true, but sometimes I don't want to write it as much as I want to shout it.)



I'll have that hero without cheese.

Mm, mm, mm. Just had a great set at the Fox and Fiddle here in Toronto. Very good, indeed. Last week I had a fucking terrible set at the Living Well, oh, so bad. But it was nice to talk to some other comics tonight who had also done sets there and have them say what a terrible room it was, so that was heartening.

Anyway, tonight I tried a bunch of new stuff and it totally worked, which made me giddy, because it's stuff I've been kind of afraid to try in Vancouver, and now I feel like I can go back there having moved forward some. The new stuff is just much more me, which, as you know if you read my blog with any sort of regularity, is what I have been aiming for. There is a comic here in Toronto, his name is Aaron Berg, and I have found him to be very inspiring. He's just truthful and raunchy and himself, and represents to me so much of where I'm trying to go. I'm grateful just for his existence, frankly, and now feel this trip has been totally worth it, even if it goes down hill over the next week. Which I do not actually expect to happen.

Lots of family time coming up in the next couple of days. My bio dad, Ralph, has come to town for a couple of days from Montreal, which is great, because I wanted to be able to make it out there, but there's just not going to be any time. His girlfriend's daughter lives here, too, so they get a double daughter whammy. I haven't seen him in 3 and a half years, so that's sort of weird. Separate ends of the country, both of us poor, etc. He and my mom and a bunch of other family were planning to come see my show tonight, but they were all kind enough to bow out when I asked them to. It was causing me no end of anxiety. I think on the heels of last week's show I was all bent out of shape and I really needed to have a decent set before my parents started showing up. I don't know, people I know are way more pressure than strangers. I don't give a shit what strangers think of me, but what if people I know hate my work? That's just awkward for everyone. I'm sure they would be gracious and everything, but tonight I just couldn't take it. Anyway, they'll come to my Yuk Yuk's show on Tuesday and it will all be fine.

Still seriously convinced I want to move here. It's midnight on a Sunday night and restaurants are still open, people are out on the street, it still feels like a city. Vancouver is so quiet at night, I like the hustle here. Since I'm a night person, it feels like it's catering to me more. I get all antsy and restless in Van. Yes, yes, I will work this into my plan, I think. We'll see how things go when I get home and start doing more shows there. Maybe that will root me for a little while longer. Certainly going to write my solo show before I pick up and go. God, I'm so excited to finally do that. I have developed a lovely French Girl character while I've been here and I can't wait to try some stuff out with her. She's the perfect alter ego for me. (Makes me wonder about Altar Egos...priests with God complexes?)

Saw the most amazing art show yesterday. Was on my way home, just walking and walking, I do so much walking here, and came across this huge show. It's called Toronto Alternative Art Festival, TAAF, and it's in two old hotels here. The Drake and The Gladstone. They are beautiful spaces. Each hotel has turned the second floor rooms into either installations or little gallery spaces. If you've ever been to Artropolis in Vancouver it's like that, but good. I got a bit weepy, in fact, just that it existed. I spent a long time making sure I saw everything. I was so happy that when I left and found it had started to pour with rain I didn't care. I practically skipped home. I was drenched when I got home, and chilly, especially around the boobs. My boobs always get the most soaked and cold if I get caught in the rain, because they stick out so much. Cold boobies, me no likey. But I got in my jammies and had a hot bath, not in that order, and everything was much better. Then I stayed home and watched tv and had a nice, quiet evening. Lovely after all the shenanigans this week. And oh, have I been shenaniganizing. It's hard not to, with so many opportunities for fun and bad behaviour just staring me in the face at every turn. God, this place suits me.

Ok, sleep now, since I have to actually get out of bed tomorrow at a reasonable hour. You know, before noon.

Good night, wind. (It's shaking the house, it's so windy). Good night, streetcars. Good night, subway, (my hero). Huh, that was funny because a subway is an underground railroad, but Subway is a sandwich shop, (which I believe has been discussed here in the recent past), but to follow it up accidentally by saying my hero...that's funny. Because a hero is a person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life, but a hero is also a kind of sandwich. See, I'm makin' jokes even when I don't know I'm makin' jokes.



Not afraid of streetcars anymore.

It was like summer here today. I swear, I have packed entirely poorly for this trip. Here I thought I'd be in the deep throes of autumn, nearing winter, that the wind would be bitter and set my teeth on edge. Instead it has been balmy and sweet, as though beckoning me. Well, sweet except for the wafting smell of sewage. Occasionally have had a wee gag at that.

My thighs are becoming rock hard from all the walking here. I want to pack the subway and streetcars in my suitcase and bring them all back to transit challenged Vancouver.

I hardly seem to need sleep, everything here is moving moving moving. I want to submerge myself in the urban hum, let the rhythm of city in motion carry me with it. Now, in that two year plan of mine, is there room for a move to Toronto? I am considering it. As is my brother. As, it seems, are so many people I know. Unless they are already here and considering a move to Vancouver. You know, for the weather. And "it's so pretty there". Ich. I'm tired of pretty. Everything in Toronto feels solid. Rooted. Built to last. The brick houses give an air of elegance, or age, or both. I have not spent this kind of time here before. I have always stayed with my grandparents, both of whom are now dead, so staying with them would require some existential trickery of the highest order. So this trip has a new quality for me, about discovering the Toronto I can make my own. Keeping my own hours and travelling in my own circles.

Today is the anniversary of our dad dying. It has passed easily, more easily than expected. Perhaps easily is not the right word. Softly. Yes, that's it. It has been a soft day. I am surprised as I expected something more dramatic. I don't know what, exactly, but perhaps because I was so worried about this particular milestone for so long, I waded through the angst of it pre-happening. Anyway, things here are so great, it's hard to want to wade into despair. I am surprised at my own lack of anxiety in any capacity. Although, having said that, I think my entire family, (what's left of it), is coming to my show on Sunday. Yikesies. Oh, well, I hope they can handle it. I'm not exactly a family show. I suppose they know me well enough, though. They're going to have to get used to my raunch at some point. Actually, I think I am much raunchier and edgier in person than I am on stage, which, of course, is where I think my comedy is falling down. Bridge that gap, girl.

I have met a comic who inspires me to do just that. I watch him and think if I was a man, that's what I would be doing. Then I think, what the fuck, why don't I do it anyway? He literally told at least three jokes I have written but not tried on stage out of some kind of worry. And they were funny. So I have to start trusting my instincts more, if I think it's funny, it's probably going to make somebody laugh.

Oof, just got sleepy. Have sweet dreams, ya'll. I will dream of eastern air coursing through my lungs in a more permanent way.


I hate animals, I love fur.

Riel, Toronto
Toronto, Riel.

"Oh, hello, good to meet you", says Riel, "thanks for having me."
"Welcome," says Toronto, looking Riel right in the eye, "welcome. Please, feel free to look around, stay as long as you like, make yourself at home."
"Oh, thank you," whispers Riel, "thank you."
"It is my pleasure", says Toronto with a sly grin.
Toronto sure is a flirt, thinks Riel, and she likes it. She is happy.
"One more thing", says Toronto.
"Yes?" Riel listens attentively.
Toronto raises a cautionary eyebrow and leans in, "Use your time here wisely."
"Oh," Riel breathes in hard. "Oh, yes." Determination settles on her face. "Yes, I will."

I am booking tons of shows, I made Preston Manning laugh, I have seen bluegrass and latin music, I have stood up and made jokes in front of no audience, I have worn a pink fur coat, (real fur), and nothing else for hours on end, I have taken the town by the tail and swung it around. I love Toronto, I know you might think it's too soon, but you know that's how I operate.



Our Lord, my year, and man I'm a good writer.

I had a funny little moment last night. I was, um, well, I was googling things...yes, yes, my own name, etc...anyway, I googled "infidelia" just to see what came up, a few things. One of the things that came up was a comment posted on a blog I recognized, so I looked at it. The comment was so well written that I didn't believe it was me who had written it and actually went as far as to click the link of the person who had written it, named infidelia and even that didn't make me believe, and indeed it took me to my own blog. I went back and read it over, there were two comments I had posted, actually, and still, had no memory of writing them, but the signatures were mine, for sure. So odd, for me to come across a little bit of my own writing and to be impressed by it. It spurs me on.

I'm going out now to sell some electronics, and maybe my bike, and some books, and see where that gets me. My relationship to material goods has become one of finding them burdensome.

I have begun the conversation with my family about a present free Christmas early this year, I hope it takes. We can ramp it up again one day when my brother or I have children, but hopefully not even then. Now birthdays, that's a whole different ballgame. I like to give on birthdays, but Jesus isn't even around, and what would he want anyway? An X-box? A Hudson's Bay blanket? A handmade sweater one arm longer than the other? I think not. Just the company of loved ones. And you know, if it's good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for me.



The tides the tides

Late late late and sleepless still. Every night lately has been like this, a struggle to sleep. A fight with anxiety and the desire to walk the darkened streets for hours and hours. A fight, always a fight.

I went to see The Weatherman with Nick Cage and Michael Caine tonight. It was not at all what I expected and I liked it very much. But it tore at me, there is so much about fathers and daughters and fathers and sons and fathers and dying....it got right to part of me that stings the most when you touch it. There were tears.

I sucked it up, though, to do a set at the El Cocal. It went fairly well, a nice comic told me he thinks I'm the funniest lady in town. I didn't mind hearing that. I did a couple of new jokes, one worked, one needs work.

Then I came home, (home? where is that lately?), and had tuna and a moment with my roommate in the kitchen where we discussed money and my owing and my not having and his expecting more than I thought, and all the parts of me that were already twitching with the threat of an emotional fall began to conspire to make me cry, which I did not. Which I want to now, but can't seem to.

I just lie here, thinking of my father, and how angry I am. I still need him and he is not here and it just creeps right up sometimes. I am swimming in it right now. I want to sleep, I want to run, I want my heart to stop pounding like I had injected amphetamines right into it. The mood swings are hard to contend with, since they just swing of their own accord.

My friend who broke up with me this weekend sent me another email today, apologizing for the rudeness and namecalling in the last email. But also saying that it doesn't change things. For some reason it undid me a little. As have things been undoing me all day.

And the boy who has been ignoring me threw me a proverbial bone. I had just finished a conversation with my stepmother where she reminded me that much of the emotion I am feeling has not to do with him but with the multitude of real dramas in which I am embroiled. So I relaxed and thought, I deserve better, I give it up to the Gods. He emailed me not minutes later and it was just enough to keep me dangling yet not enough to satisfy.

I am already out of this house and in Toronto in my head. How to keep here and keep plugging at the packing? How indeed. It is too easy to say yes I can see you today, yes I have time. I have no time. And now I have promised myself to two things tomorrow. Foolish, foolish girl.

Where is the person who will just hold me and hold me without asking why they have to? Just to hold me, so I know I'm not alone in it. Words are okay, but I need the calming of touch. I feel like I am in the middle of the desert, the sun directly above me, nothing on the horizon but blue sky in all directions, and all directions are the same direction, no way to tell where to go. I know the sun will begin to descend, and if I just have patience I will move in my desired path, but just this minute, I feel lost.

So said me.



Truth...hurts...don't it.

My best friend broke up with me today. I want to tell you the story, because I want you to know how I feel, but I don’t want to make her sound like a terrible person, because she’s not. She is a beautiful, kind, sweet, funny, goofy, sexy woman, a good friend and a loving and conscientious mother. She had the baby a few months ago and is now suffering a rather bad bout of post partum depression. Unfortunately she is using it as an excuse to revive some old and self-destructive patterns of behaviour.

I need to pause here and just say how irritating it is when you are typing and there is a major lag time between the time you press the key and the time the letters appear on the screen. It has been seriously hindering my flow of thoughts. Just needed to complain about that for a second.

On Friday night the aforementioned friend pulled some shit, putting several other people, including myself, in very awkward positions, having to run some major interference in order to keep her from destroying this beautiful life she has created for herself, her husband and their new baby. The life, I might add, she has always wanted. Let me just say this here. If she was pulling this shit and it was so crazy and out of character and shocking, I could totally buy the post partum excuse and would be coddling her to her very heart’s content. But the shit has been going on for years and years, and now she has a convenient little reason for it. The girl is going to bring it all crashing down around her ears and it is heartbreaking to watch. So I don’t want to watch it, and I don’t want to tell her it’s okay when it is not okay.

So I told her the truth yesterday. That I was angry and that I think she’s on a very bad path. At first she was grateful that I told her the truth, because I’m the only one of her friends that will, but then I guess she slept on it and woke up with a fresh batch of self righteous anger and fear, because the vicious emails came flying at me today. She is incredibly adept at lashing out when she has experienced something hurtful. So today I got to hear about every mistake I’ve made in our thirteen year friendship. I was hoping not to have the conversation over email, purposely had avoided it the day before, but when I got such an attack, well, I responded. I laid it out very clearly, and I’m certain that it came out sounding quite harsh. I always want to communicate my thoughts and feelings as clearly as I can, and I know that I can only do that if I stay calm and level headed. As soon as my temper enters into it I am capable of quite nasty things. I’m sure she felt I was being nasty, but I was careful to address only the current situation, and not respond to all of the cruel things she said to me.

For Chrisssakes, nobody knows better than I do the mistakes I have made in my life, and the flaws I carry with me. And any time she wants to address things about me that bother her, I am ready to listen. I’m not saying I always want to hear the truth, quite the opposite. Wait. What I mean is, I always WANT to hear the truth, but right when I’m hearing it I don’t always want to hear it, if you get my drift. I get mad and defensive, too, but I take it with me and think about it and am grateful that people care enough to tell it to me straight. I want to fix what’s wrong with me, though I suspect even a lifetime of effort will still leave me with unwanted traits. Having said that, you gotta talk about one thing at a time, and just because I’ve made mistakes doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to notice when someone else is fucking up.

We have, me and her, long been on this pendulum in our friendship, where I swing madly from hero to villain in her mind, and little in between.

Sufficed to say, her response to my response was LOONY TUNES. She tore me a new asshole for DARING to speak to her in such a manner, and what the hell do I know about post pardom [sic], (I nearly wrote a vitriolic email back to her telling her I may not know how it feels to have post partum but at least I know how to spell it, but I didn’t. But I am secretly vindictively happy to have said it here. Because I am actually quite hurt and sad and a tiny bit of lashing out is hard to avoid), and how dare I call her out on anything because she is a MOTHER now and can do whatever she wants. Then she ordered me out of her life.

So I sat with that, and I thought to myself that I was willing to risk the fallout if I thought maybe it would serve her in the end. And I thought, one day she will want this back, and I will be here. And I thought, I won’t write her in response to this, because it will be too tempting to be cruel, and I could cut so deeply. Instead I called a mutual good friend of ours and asked him to please call her and be sweet and kind to her, because I thought she was probably hurting very badly and might need him. I told him to let her say whatever she wanted about me and I didn’t mind. Then I called her husband and said I was sorry to leave him with the fallout, but that maybe when he got home from work he could be extra tender with her and that I wanted him to know that everything I said came from a place of love and concern. He’s a straight shooter and a good man, and I wanted him to know I was pulling for her in the end.

I went about my day, knowing that I was probably going to start feeling sad about it at some point, but actually feeling pretty calm.

Then came the next email. Remember, I didn’t respond to the one before. This one said she had forgotten to say a few things and while the BABY was sleeping she just had a minute, before the BABY woke up and she had to tend to the BABY again. (I may be feeling a bit bitter about the use of the BABY to raise her above everyone, like she’s the first one to ever have a BABY and to ever feel scared and unprepared and lonely and questioning of her decision). In this email the things she forgot to say were that I had never been there for her in our thirteen year friendship and it has always been all about me and she is tired of straining for my approval and she is lonely for me and too angry and sad to want to repair and salvage it. The idea that I haven’t been there for her in the last thirteen years is ludicrous, and I’m sure she knows is.

What is happening there is that I haven’t been there for her much in the last three months, admittedly, which I think I wrote about a couple of times in earlier entries. But the BABY is not my baby, and I have had quite a year my own self without having to take responsibility for her life, too. I’m actually still a bit confused about my feelings about all of that. Trying to figure out what is my job, my obligation, what isn’t. Did I desert her in her hour of need? Maybe. But did I do it glibly, and sit in my hammock, filing my nails drinking margaritas and laughing at her? No. I fell into a dark and troubling depression, and got busy up to my ass and had little energy left over to do what I felt was being asked of me. I hope that in the future we are friends again and we can figure that one out together.

Anyway, I thought that would be the last of it, but then I guess her husband came home from work and mentioned I had called, so tonight I got an all capital letters email, and I want to quote it verbatim, “DON"T EVER CALL [MY HUSBAND} AGAIN AND TRY TO OFFER YOUR "LOVE" TO ME THROUGH HIM! YOU MANIPULATIVE BITCH STAY OUT OF MY LIFE!!”

Before I even got this one I was starting to feel my heart splintering. I don’t want to be without her, but I can’t support the self destruction, and I can’t have relationships I can’t be truthful in. I have spent a long time trying to say things to her as tenderly as possible, and when it gets hard I get an incredible amount of viciousness thrown my way. It’s a bit untenable. Let’s clarify one thing. I wasn’t offering my love to her through him, I was asking him to be loving to her because I knew she would need it, and to apologize to him for the wake I was leaving for him to negotiate. Name-calling is just so unnecessary.

Thank you for listening to this, and for not asking for more details about what exactly the bad behaviour is, because I don’t think that part is necessary here. But it makes me feel better to get it out, and to get a couple of possibly inappropriate jabs in, you know, so my inner child is satisfied….but mostly I was just lying here, trying to sleep, and I felt this chasm in my core, widening, pushing all my insides towards the outsides, making it hard to breathe and making me feel unsure and anxious and lonely, and I needed someone, but it’s late, so in lieu of someone, I choose this, and it helps.

Two more things, completely unrelated to this thing. I am being clearly ignored by a boy, a lover who has been in my life in that capacity for a year and some, and who is moving away while I am in Toronto, a boy who just last week spoke so tenderly and sweetly to me, and drew me a bath and then got in with me, and then told me I was beautiful and made me laugh…a boy who I know has felt strongly for me. He is not returning emails and phone calls and it is beginning to chafe. I am annoyed with myself for not being cool enough to be ignoring him, too, but I would rather we could have some sweet time together before we part. It bothers me and it bothers me that it bothers me.

That is the first of the last two things. The last of the last two things is that my friend Lee walked me all the way home tonight after a very fun evening of improv comedy and team scrabble. He had already walked from Commercial Drive to Main and 8th tonight, then walked me from Main and 8th all the way to my house near Venables and Victoria, a good hour, I think, THEN he had to walk all the way back to his house, back near Main street. That Lee, he is a sweet man. We had a very good talk and I have decided to keep him. Lee is my new friend.

I hope everyone makes a new friend.



On a clear day you can see....

Leaving for Toronto next week, have booked some shows, looks like I will be booking more. I am very sleepy right now, is very late and have been staring at screen for hours, just wanted to say how very happy I am at this moment. I have a two year plan starting to gel in my mind, and that is satisfying. I was going over the rough sketch of it tonight with Georgia and realized I'm totally highly functioning and making excellent progress in my career. I'm chuffed. Now, I just need that grant...or line of credit. I'm working on it.

Here is the rough sketch:

Do many standup shows, as many as possible
Do many shows with Rascalls, as many as possible
Possible weekly show with Rascalls beginning in spring, right after possible west coast gigs with Rascalls - Bellingham, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco.
Fringe show with Rascalls.
Solo show at Fringe. Yikes.
Massage school, in order to finally have mobile, barterable trade.
Take self, standup and mobile barterable trade to NYC by two years from now, do many shows there, live in rat infested dive, hired as writer for the Daily Show.

I'm going to bed now.

I shall dream of New York men.



This is the theme to Garry's show....

I had my first stage manager nightmare last night. I dreamed we moved theatres, and had a bigger band, and there was no booth for me to be in, so I had to be on the stage, and I kept getting in the way, then all my lighting and sound cues kept disappearing from my prompt script, and then the script just fell apart and went all out of order, then I realized I had no control over Penelope's mic because it was backstage, then all the breakers blew on the lights, and I was kneeling on the side of the stage in the dark trying like a maniac to come up with a light that worked while John screamed from backstage, "The circuits are overloaded, the board's on fire!", which made me panic even more, and the audience got really uncomfortable and I think I cried. I am hoping this is not what happens tonight.

Okay, I'm getting up now.


A confession.

Just so you know, I didn't do anything today except the show. Well, I mean, I showered, and I ate breakfast, and I read and played scrabble, but I did nothing of consequence. And right after the show I came right home. I am glad I am going back to work on Monday, I am starting to get restless.

I feel slightly neglectful of you all. I have to admit something. I....I...I have another blog. I know!! I just couldn't help myself! It's not you, it's me. I just needed more. Oh, god, that was probably the wrong thing to say. I needed something truly anonymous. And it is. Oh, it is lovely. I thought I would write about everything in it, all the things not diplomatic enough to write here, but so far it is completely concerned with sex. Well, and love, to a degree. I am actually quite proud of it. Partly because it is rather explicit, but the prose is also quite good, if I do say so myself. I wish I could share it with you all, but, well, that would be, odd. It's the anonymity that makes one bold, obviously.

There you have it.



There goes Tuesday.

My mummy was in town this weekend and it was lovely and calming to see her. She brought all kinds of yummy organic food from the okanagan. Lamb, potatoes, carrots, garlic, squash, spinach, apples. So delicious that I had to run right out and do some grocery shopping so I wouldn't let these beautiful things go to waste.

I am feeling better. I say this carefully, since we all know that my moods have been swingy at best this year. But I certainly feel like the worst of the fog of the last couple of months has lifted. I have some potential living arrangements coming down the pike, and I feel like it'll all be ok. You know? Like, it will ALL be ok.

It has been very good for me to have the last week or so mostly to myself. I mean, I've been working on this show, but my days have largely been my own. I'm going back to the flower shop on Monday, but this rest has been sorely needed. And I do feel somewhat rested.

I have a date this week. I don't know what it all means, but then, I never do. It makes me hyperventilate slightly to think about committing to one person. So I guess a slow burn would ease me into it. I was thinking that my love life was sort of free and clear these days, but how could it be? I keep myself knee deep in boys, and sometimes girls, you know, cause of how much I like them. So someone showed up in town again, and it's all sweet, but then there's this date.....let the chips fall where they may, I say. (Yeah, that's just what I say, all the time.)

Pleased to report that it's not raining today and so I will ride my bicycle to the show tonight. It leaves me a bit torn, because en bicyclette means not dressing all pretty, but the ass muscles get nice, and the bus is 2.25, each way. Let's do right by the ass muscles, shall we? All this dating, maybe I wanna make those a little rounder and higher.

It's weird to think about dating. As I told my cousin yesterday, I never know where things are going because I always kind of assume they are hanging out with me as a charitable gesture. Weird, eh? I mean, I know I'm hot, but I can never figure out why they come back, since I think I'm kind of dark and difficult. Maybe being funny helps. Probably. It's a strange thing to think so highly and so lowly of oneself at the same time. But, never let it be said that I didn't overcomplicate things.

Ok, so I'm still thinking of a move, but now I'm thinking, why stop in Toronto? Why not just make a plan to get to New York? So I'm leaning that way. Obviously, to me, anyway, it's a longer term plan. Because I'm certainly not moving to NYC to be poor there, so I gotta be smart about it. Also thinking of going back to school to get myself a barterable trade that can travel with me. I have not got the will, desire or patience to go back to University. The academic life, she is not for me. But, massage school would satisfy me on many levels. I am already a naturally gifted masseuse, and have always had the desire to practice some form of healing art, plus it's barterable and mobile. And, can do that kind of schooling and still do comedy. Anyway, it's a thought.

Hm...comedy. For some reason not booking shows, even though I keep claiming I want to. Pretty afraid of overextending myself. Will try to keep everything balanced. I don't want to get so tired and depressed again, at least not right away.

Recently someone told me that they thought that I should mention a particular person in my blog more often, that I don't mention that person enough, that it might make that person feel good, or something. Listen, this is MY blog. To write about what I want, what I'm feeling. If you are not mentioned on here as often as you would like, tough beans. Just suck it up. Because this is only a portion of what I'm thinking and feeling. Besides, you should be careful what you wish for, because what if what I want to write about you isn't what you want to hear? Hey? Didja think about that? I didn't think so. Now, back to work, people, we're not here for our health!!




If I tell you all of my secrets and you still love me, then I guess I'm doing pretty well. That is what I've come to today. That is why I started this blog, I think, so I could lay it all out there and hopefully still have a few buddies left at the end of it. You are all sticking with me pretty sweetly. I think I may be kind of an extremist. (I see one eyebrow going up knowingly on almost everyone's faces).

Well, anyway, there are still some things I haven't told. And lots of love still. I am a lucky girl.

In the context of an already slightly raunchy conversation today, dot dot dot, someone told me that someone told him that I give great blow jobs. This, my friends, made my day. This is a skill I am very proud of, so, you know, to have it come back to you that you are living up to your own expectations, well, that's a good feeling.

I have conceived of an entirely knew standup set that I am very excited about. I think it may start to turn into my solo show. I'm feeling a bit inspired of late. Maybe I'll call that rich old Italian man I met who wants me to move in with him. Dominic. Time for a sugar daddy?



Fine, I'll write something.

Have been dreaming about my father again. Dreamed he came back from the dead. Well, actually, that he had never died, but we thought he did, and then he was perfectly healthy and everything. In the dream I was confused about how to feel. I kept thinking, "How do I tell everyone? How do I suddenly not be grieving?" It was weird. I dreamed about him again last night, he was just around, not even a whisper that he had ever been ill, everything was just normal.

Having said that, I also dreamed I did a half hour stand up set in front of a huge audience, like a few thousand people, in a great big beautiful theatre, and that they LOVED it. It was elating, I'll tell you what.

So I'm still here, muddling through. Trying to ease my schedule a bit, get myself back up outta the dumps. This depression has hit me very hard. I feel a bit...crumpled. And panicky. I was playing online scrabble with my brother today, chatting with him on messenger, when he disappeared. Didn't take his turn, didn't answer my messages, didn't answer his phone....I freaked out. My roommate laughed at me so hard, my brother called me back and got annoyed with me. But I couldn't help it. I don't usually go to worst case scenario panic mode, but I completely imagined him dead on his floor for some reason. It was weird and I didn't like it. I think I better start meditating or something. I gotta calm down.

Ok, going to work now. I think I should start taking jobs that pay me.



So that's what my ceiling looks like.

Okay. I'm doing this because it's been a few days...but not because I think I have anything terribly interesting to say. Sometimes I think I do have terribly interesting things to say, but lately those things seem to be deposited in emails instead of on my blog. Yes, yes, I have a full and rich emailing life.

Right this very minute I would kill for a quiet place to be. I mean, really, truly quiet. Have I said this before? I believe I have. As soon as I am done this I am questing all over this damn house for some headache medicine that works.

I have been sicky for the last few days. I thought I felt it coming on during the run of Spice of Life Part 3, (you monkeys that missed it....I was REALLY funny in it), but thought I fought it off. Then, bammo, Wednesday I got slammed. I was supposed to go to Victoria for a couple of days to do an improv show and have a wee visit with some chums, but to no avail. Have laid here in my beddy bye since Wednesday afternoon. Today, Saturday, I did manage to drag myself to rehearsal, (for Spice of Life part 4, at the Fringe, ahem), but had to leave early due to frequent coughing fits and much dizziness. There is nothing about a crowded Skytrain that makes me feel better. Not the screaming babies, not the throngs of new english speakers snapping photos of Science World and BC Place as we whiz past. Yeauh, those'r gonna be grrreat pix.

Here's a nice thing about today, though. As I walked up Commercial Drive to the Skytrain I ran into several people that I was really happy to run into. Same on my way home. Including a woman from high school that I haven't seen in...good grief...15 years? More?! I also stopped at La Grotto deli and had one of their deeelicious $4 sandwiches. Mmmmm...so yummy. I would actually be feeling pretty good and perky and sociable, I think, if not for the sickness. Like, emotionally I am on a better footing than the last few weeks. I don't think I've been writing much about the last while as it has been a most confusing time. My therapist reminded me that there is still grieving to be done, and that it will still take me off guard. So I calmed down a bit when, after I told her everything that I was experiencing and how confusing and upsetting it's been and I wondered if she could fix me, she told me I seemed find and not broken. That I sounded sad, angry, confused, frustrated and messy, and that these sounded like grief to her.

For the first time since he died, I think it's the first time, something about it really felt like a first, I had a thought process about my dad that really hit me sideways. I was driving somewhere and I heard something or thought something or came to some conclusion, I really have no memory what it was in regards to. All I know is that my very next thought was, "I better remember that next time I have dinner with him." Then it hit me...no more dinners with him, I'll never be able to tell him that I had that thought. Oh, fuck, did it hit me. I know people say all the time how this happens, but it confounds me a bit. Ah, crap. I'm starting to cry now. And the house is full of people. Anyway, it set me off, for sure. In fact, I think it was right on my way to my therapy appointment. Convenient.

Does anyone have any particular advice on balance in one's life? Time management? Why does everything happen at once? Is there a way to get structure in an artist's life? I kind of can't wait until the Fringe is over and I can just work and do standup. (Yeah, I'm so sure that's all I'll do...). But, for serious, as much as I have enjoyed performing in these shows, I miss standup so bad. It has been an important lesson in not diverting myself from my chosen path.

So, I'm thinking about moving to Toronto. I'm thinking about the Spring. I'm thinking I gotta get outta here for a while so that I don't stay here for the rest of my damned life. It's just time. I want to go to NYC, but I think that'll come after Toronto. I think. The next couple of months will help to shed a lot of light on this. Once I'm back doing crazy amounts of standup shows I'll have a better idea of what my next move should be. Also, it may depend on what it looks like in terms of me getting an agent. Which is the next thing after the Fringe that I need to focus on. How long have I been saying that for? It's just that it's really, really time. I so much don't want to earn a living at anything but writing and performing any more. Why did it take me so long to come to that conclusion? As we've established, I'm a slow learner. (Math, no problem. Get it right away. Life skills...uh...longer.)

If you get a chance to eat at Chambar...do it. Oh, my, GOD. My darling Georgia just celebrated her 30th, (and what a year, darling...new baby, marriage proposal from father of said baby), and we had a fancy dinner at Chambar. Yum, yum, and again, yum. Plus, the service was outstanding. Our server was Robbie. I basically asked Robbie to take care of me all night, like, I asked him what drink I should have to start, and he brought me something lovely. Some kind of martini with blueberries in it. Then we had mussels. Mussels I will never forget. Some time when you want a light meal and a good drink, go there and get mussels. Get some bread for soaking up the sauce. Don't leave any sauce behind. Then I asked Robbie for direction on the entree and he brought me the lamb shank. Well, I nearly wept it melted in my mouth so. I asked him to bring a glass of wine to compliment it and he came through with flying colours. A bite of lamb, a sip of wine, a taste sensation like no other. And the port he brought, well, Robbie, here's to ya.

By the way, I have never, never, seen my girl Georgia look more radiantly beautiful than she did that night. Altogether lately, she has been looking incredible. This motherhood thing, it seems to do wonders for my women friends. Right until they go back to work. Hm. Mat leave, eh?

Also, I saw the 40 Year Old Virgin. So funny. So so so so funny. Oh, so funny.

Hm, me hungy.



Two funny things.

Two funny things happened today that reaffirmed my faith in Comedy as almighty. The first one was that a guy fell asleep during our show tonight. He was sitting in the front row, had his arms crossed and his head was nodding. I had time to look closely because there's a part in the show where I sit in the dark, very still, for quite a while. So I watched him sleeping. I couldn't believe it. I was trying to figure out how to mention it subtly in my next scene. I couldn't figure out how to mention it subtly. I could only think of doing a puppet show with my hands where one hand is asleep in the audience and the other hand smacks him awake. Actually, that might have been funny. The thing that almost made me lose my shit and crack up in the dark on stage, was when there was a music cue at the end of a scene and it startled him awake. He jumped and for a second clearly could not tell where he was. Oh, man, it was aaawesome.

The second thing that happened was that this evening after the show I pulled up to my house in my broken old car and saw a group of teenagers coming towards me carrying a full sized, round trampoline. There were about six of them and they were trying not to hit the cars with the metal frame. I recognized the trampoline at belonging to my friends, and now neighbours, Steve and Aresh and Steve's son Liam. They recently moved across the street from me and they have a trampoline in the back yard. I followed the teenagers back to the house and Steve and Aresh were outside, waiting for them. Apparently the kids had stolen the trampoline and taken it to the nearby park to entertain themselves. They being East Van teens in the summertime. No money, what to do? But they were bringing it back. One of the kids claimed this was the third time they had stolen it and brought it back but they hadn't been caught before. I hope this is true. I love to think of teenagers on a summer night, stealing a trampoline, playing all night, and then putting it back. It has such a sweetness to it.

The really funny part to me is that that was not the first time I've seen a group of people carrying a trampoline down a street. Not even the same trampoline. I laughed when I realized how familiar the whole scene looked.

In between those two funny events I had sushi with my friend Dana. We ended up at a place called Yuji's on 4th Avenue. Big hungry after the show was done. Lucky us, this is some of the best sushi I've ever eaten. Oh, my God, so good. Tuna that melted like maple sugar in your mouth. Mmm mmmm.

Plus in between the first funny thing and the sushi there was a whole show in which I was really funny tonight. The review in the Province said a nice thing about me yesterday, and while I think it's probably better not to get too excited about things like that or else when they start saying bad stuff it'll suck. But. I can't help it. It was a nice little whisper in my ear.

So today was a good day. Broken car and all. I borrowed my friend Jy's car today for work and figured out all by myself how to turn off the sub woofer. Big stereo. I listened to the Beastie Boys all day. Also good.

I'm going to sleep before something goes horribly awry.



Profundity unmasked.

I'll tell ya this much. This is the last damned time I feel like dealing with the f***ing car breaking down. &%$/#!! If you see what I'm saying. I gotta get a job that doesn't require I have a car. This is retarded. I can't work if the car is broken, but I can't pay for the car to get fixed if I can't work. Etc. Same old story.

Huh, I just got off the phone with my friend Jy, who also happens to deliver flowers on the days when I don't, and he very kindly offered me his car for tomorrow so I don't have to miss a day of work. That was very nice and helpful and makes me feel not so much like I have too much on my plate to deal with all on my own with my tiny brain and neurotic heart.

So I gotta figure out a job that doesn't require the car so much. Maybe something close by me, over here on Commercial Drive. A coffee shop, I don't know. Ich, the very idea makes my skin crawl. There has to be something not customer service oriented. I don't have the chops for the servitude any more. Three days a week in the flower shop? I'll talk to them tomorrow. Plus the car insurance is up next month, and it didn't pass air care last time, so if it doesn't pass this time, I don't know if I can just get the temp insurance again.

Ramble ramble.

So I'm in this show. It's pretty funny, my part is definitely funny, and it has been useful to me at least to learn that I get waaaaaaay more out of performing standup than I do out of performing in a silly wee show that I have no personal stake in. Of course I can be funny. I know I'm funny. It makes me remember that the challenge to me is really the writing. The crafting of the material. That's a good thing to be reminded of.

Next time I fall in love it's going to be with someone available. This is my sworn oath. Last emotionally unavailable stop has past, we're into bucolic splendour on the train trip of love. Ha. Fall in love again. As if.

I'm calling my therapist now. I need some serious couch time of the helpful sort. Actually, I could use some serious couch time of the lounging sort, as well. Well, more beach time than couch time.

Hm, I'm going to try to eat something that isn't chocolate now. Not cake, not truffles, not brownies, not gelato, not a slurpee, whatever. A sandwich, or something. Good luck to me, I guess.



Me funny.

I am sorry you lot missed the show I did last night. Very very good set. Complete with a grouchy heckler that I totally dealt with. Very proud moment there. Interesting setting for a comedy show. We were in an elementary school in New Westminster. There was also a death metal band. They were good for flirting with during my set. Seems we raised some money for breast cancer research, so I feel good about that, too. Was giddy.

Hm. That's all for now. Off to rehearse these crazy plays. I love my character, she is so dumb and so funny. You should come see these shows. They are fluffy, but fun. Like, this isn't how I'm going to change the world, but it makes me happy, which makes it more likely that I will continue my efforts to change the world.

I like things right now. I like working in theatre. I like comedy. I like improv. I like that someone text messaged me to tell me that they saw me on tv last night. I had no idea I was on tv last night. I think it must have been highlights from the Under the Volcano festival last week. I was emceeing and, if I recall, there were cameras there the whole time.

Argh...just getting going but am going to be late. More soon, I promise. Promises promises.




I would just like to take a moment and say that I'm sorry if I am not writing much lately. I have been very interested in just being in my experiences. I think I needed time to refill the well. To just take a lot in. And some time without being funny. Plus, the weather has been amazing and one has to take advantage of such things. So I have. I went to visit my friend who lives in the Pemberton Valley for two nights. I forgot how much I like to go on long drives in the country, to get somewhere pretty and quiet. He lives in a quiet spot in the mountains with several lakes in the immediate vicinity. On Thursday we went to TWO lakes. It was lovely and refreshing and I spent hours in the water. I feel oddly like I had a whole summer vacation in one day. We went to a beautiful farm near Mt. Currie called North Arm Farm. They sell all manner of farmy goods, fruit, veggies, meat, eggs, berries, flowers, honey, jams, pies....you get the idea. It was a magical spot, to be sure. I walked in the U-pick flower garden and was filled with the quiet and the beauty. I was in a field of flowers, in the beating sunshine, in the breeze, ringed by mountains. This is a moment I will hold in my heart. For the sheer peacefulness of it. It is a struggle sometimes for me to find enough peaceful moments. So they are precious.

I came home Saturday afternoon and some friends were here from Seattle, so we napped and ate and walked around. They watched the fireworks, which I cannot stand due to the crowds, so I came home and waited for them. It's not the sitting watching crowds that get to me so much, but the leaving crowds. I can't stand walking so slowly because I am hemmed in. I get trapped and angry, so it's better if I just avoid the situation altogether. I am starting to think that the way to deal with neuroses is just to accept them and do what you can to avoid triggering anxiety and upsetness. So I'll keep the large crowds in my life where they belong. In chairs facing the stage I'm on. Give me an orchestra pit between us and I can handle any number of people. Especially if I can exit the back way.

Speaking of crowds and me, I spent all day yesterday emceeing the Under the Volcano festival at Cates Park in North Vancouver. It was a lovely day, and a great festival. I set up my blanket in the shade of a giant tree behind the mainstage, and read my book and wandered out front for a couple of the bands, and every hour or so got up on stage and introduced another act, and made lost child and illegally parked car announcements. It was great. I kept the chatter to a minimum but managed to get a couple of laughs. I liked it a lot. Plus paid me. I still get giddy about getting paid for gigs.

I'm going to learn my lines now, as I am supposed to be off book tonight. I'm very excited about these shows, my part is hilarious. I love being in a show where I get to be funny. Have I mentioned before how much I love being funny?

On top of the other good things, time at the lake, doing shows, I am staying at my stepmother's for a few days while she is away. It is also like a mini vacation because the house is so beautiful and quiet and the bed is so comfortable, and oddly comforting even though it is the bed where my dad died. I feel so tucked in in that room. And peaceful. My little brother is around, too, because his apartment is such a cave and he feels better when he gets to stay somewhere where there is light. Not to mention a nice car he can use. I'm sure that staying here does many things for both of us, including make us sad, but also make us calm. We like to be around each other, and it is good to be around our dad's things. Though they are slowly, slowly morphing into something else. Into a different life, a different chapter. It is an interesting evolution, the evolution of grief. I don't entirely know where I am in the process, so I think I'll see my therapist again a few times when the Fringe Festival is over. I think I need a tune up.

Okay, you lovelies. I hope everyone is getting their lake time.



Swish, swish.

I have had two very lovely and relaxing days in a row. I am in a very contented mood. I just wanted you to know that before I went to sleep. I have stayed up much too late tonight....much too late. And for very adolescent reasons. Mmmm, I like summer.

I was in such a good mood last night walking home down Commercial Drive from the skytrain, (yes, I rode transit all day yesterday, it was sooooo much better than being in my car plus I could have beer), that no less than three guys, total strangers, tried to pick me up. Like, tried really hard. Turned around and started walking the wrong way just to walk with me. Toothless drunks, mostly, but still. Why do toothless drunks love me so much?

Maybe it's because I look them right in the eye and smile. I am everybody's friend when I am happy. Plus, I think I swagger like nobody's business. I feel like it's been a while since I had such a sashay in my walk. I am feeling hot hot hot.

Lookit this:


And this:


You, as usual, will have to cut and paste. One of these days those bastards at Blogger are going to answer my damn questions about making the links live. Bastards!! Anonymous knows a lot about everything, maybe Anonymous can help solve this problem.



Living in a surrealist painting

I was out for dinner with some friends tonight, at Havana. Lovely summer evening, good spot on the patio, lots of people out. Sweet air. Then...then. There was a naked man at the restaurant. Well, just outside the restaurant. He didn't start out naked, he started out doing an interpretive dance in the middle of the street, then having an intimate experience with the doorway of a building. I was happy to be on the other side of the patio. Because then he couldn't stand his clothes anymore. Naked! Dancing around, and the table full of people right next to him had his wee teeny penis waving right over their plates. He proudly had a Canadian flag tattoo on his shoulder. I don't know why that made it even more interesting, but it did. Some police came eventually and then an ambulance, lots of people stopped to watch him dancing naked in the street, stopping traffic. He had such a small penis, and was pretty round, a fleshy bum, but he was so unconcious of himself. It was pretty fascinating, it made for a lot of chatter at the restaurant.



Well, here I am in the country...still....was only supposed to be here for two days, but the day I got here my darling mummy had a very bad fall and broke one of her wrists and sprained the other one. I had to postpone my flight home until this coming Tuesday as she is, well, without hands. Her sprain is getting better, which makes me feel a little better about leaving, and she didn't have to have surgery on her broken wrist, which was very good news indeed.

I have to say, I'm not sad to have a reason to be up here for longer. Though I occasionally hit my patience wall with my mum, she has a hard time letting me take care of her and wants to do more than she is able, it has been lovely to spend so much time with her. There has been some pretty good visiting with friends, as well, a couple of bitchin' parties at the Caravan. Plus there's a cabaret tomorrow night on my mum's property. It's called "The Horse Cabaret" and is outdoors from the evening into the night. Many different acts celebrating people's life with horses. This is major horse country, after all. Anyway, even more friends and family are coming and staying here, so it will be quite an evening. I have to spend all day tomorrow cleaning up my mum's studio, which is an epic task. She paints, is a silversmith and designs sets for the theatre, so there's a lot of stuff, tools, materials, books...stuff...stuff...but she needs to get it done and now really can't do it herself. I cleaned her room and did her laundry already, so that's done.

It was weird when she fell, outwardly I took care of her and was good in the emergency, but it really flipped me out. I think I'm a little nervous about my parents' health now. I had to be reminded that she wasn't sick or dying, she just broke her wrist. But she was so shocked when she fell, and it was pretty spectacular, so she was crying and crying and really embarassed and I held her in my arms until she calmed down and it was like cradling a five year old child. But now she's pretty chipper for the most part and really wants to lift heavy things. I keep having to get stern with her.

I'll be home Tuesday afternoon and back on high speed, this dial up business is nonsense.



Pucker Up

Soooo...I'm in a Fringe show. Auditioned, got a part on the spot. Very satisfying. Also got a call from a comic friend of mine today, he wants me on a show he's organizing, a charity event. Very sweet to be asked to do shows. I know I've mentioned it before, but it surprises me when it happens. I think it's only been a few times.

I'll be rehearsing and then performing this show quite a bit, so standup might be a bit slow for a while. One or two shows a week. I'll see how the rehearsal schedule shakes down, man.

Okay, I have grown impatient with the helper elves at Blogger. I'm just turning the commenting back on. In conversation tonight I determined it was my own reaction to the comments that bothered me more than the comments. So. Back to normal. Whew. (Shakes fist at bees).

Sweet dreams, darlings. May you, each and every one of you, be kissed tomorrow.



Steady as she goes!

Darlings, just so you know, I am currently in discussions with the helper elves on this site to ascertain whether there is a way of you all becoming members without me having to invite you. If there is not, I will turn regular commenting back on and delete any annoying anonymous ones. Ha! At first I felt like deleting comments was cheating, but I am now over that.

Yesterday I walked up Commercial Drive and it was most definitely SUMMER. I saw an old man, maybe late 70's, saying goodbye to a much taller, pretty young woman. As they hugged he grabbed her ass, but the kind of grab where I swear I saw a couple of fingers go crotchways. It was slightly obscene and terribly amusing. I was wearing a summer dress, finally hot enough, and the Portuguese men were all very appreciative. Vocally appreciative. It was all around a very chatty and social day.

I had a scrabble date and won both the games we played. I swear it's all this online scrabble I've been playing. I'm super smart!

All day long, today, as I was sweatily delivering flowers, I was thinking in very clever prose. And the thoughts were profound. In fact, this has been going on a lot the last few days. The writing in my head is amazing. Somehow, when I get to here, it sort of peters out. Or, rather, I have spent myself on thinking and now have little left to offer. I think I'll start taking my little digital recorder with me in the car, that way I can make sure to record my brilliance for posterity.

On Saturday the flower shop had to floralize FIVE weddings. It was the most insane day. Pandemonium, actually, is the best way to describe it. Utter mayhem. I had no idea there were so many kinds of floral emergencies. All in all the whole day was not organized the way I would have organized it. My boss seems to try to keep all the information for everything in her head, without really disseminating it in any kind of useful way. So if she forgets something, no one can help her to remember. It becomes an emergency later. So. Here's the thing. In two weeks we have TEN weddings on ONE DAY. We, I believe, are going to need some help. People should get in touch with me via email if they would like to be part of the rusty old machine of ours and make some mothers of the brides happy little campers. It's crazy, but it's flowers. Strapping young men with good work ethics and a big smile. Oh, yes, I want my day to be more pleasant, too...so, you know, hence the request for strapping young men. Ladies also welcome. Be ready to lift a lot of things.

I'm off in a few minutes to audtition for a Fringe show. I would LOVE to do a Fringe show this year. It's been a couple of years. I have such a good time being around the festival, so much flirting and the like, you may remember from my descriptions last year. But I like it sooooooo much better when I'm in a show. My presence feels legitimized.

Generally feeling calmer than I have been the last few weeks. Let's all applaud the Gods of pleasantry. I think their names are Seth, Riley and Bowen, (these are the names of my stepmother,s* gardeners).

*NB: Um, please excuse the punctuation error - my apostrophe and slash keys are now french ees. Like this - è or É. I have no idea how this happened. I am stumped and without four precious punctuation marks.

What else....oh yes. I'm going here for the next few days:

Also, if you look back in the blog, there's a picture of the view from my mummy's place, very spectacular. I was bucking for three days of rest in the country, but now I've been hired by my mother to clean her studio. She is swamped getting the Caravan show opened and has an "Art Studio Tour" coming through her place shortly after, so she needs a little help. Oh, well. Working my ass off in the 37 degree heat, no problem, right? Oh, man. I'm gonna come back all emaciated. What will happen to my beautiful breasts!!!

My plan upon my return, other than flowers for TEN weddings, is to get back on stage. It has been very good to take a little time off, but it's back to it next week. So keep your peepers peeled for show updates. And keep reading, because I think I'm going to start writing fiction and stuff here. Actually, I have an idea to start another blog, actually anonymously, even you guys wouldn't know about it, that is erotica. A journal of a love affair. A fictional love affair, (says me). I'm toying with it. I think it would be fun.

So, I don't know if I'll be posting from up there, just because of how much time I'll need to be in the lake when I'm not working, so hear from me next weekish. If you're very, very well behaved while I'm gone, I'll come back with good stories.

I kiss you on both cheeks.



Just a bunch of yakkin'.

I was working at Granville Island today, at the flower shop, and, as usual, was working outside so tourists were asking many questions all day long. And mostly not about plants or flowers. Mostly asking for directions to washrooms, restaurants and other and sundry sights. Except for these two American ladies who came to me, (me?), to let me, (me?), know that there was a backpack left all alone around the corner of our shop. They felt compelled to inform someone and were obviously too afraid to touch it. My heart went out to those dear ladies, who spend the majority of their time in a country paralyzed by THE FEAR instilled in them every single day by their very own government and media. Tsk tsk. I went and got the backpack and looked inside. Sneakers and a bicycle helmet. Took it to lost and found. Poor, poor Americans. Then someone, a Canadian, for Chrissakes, said that they were very afraid of backpacks now. Sigh. Can we just get on with things, people? Either something will happen or it won't, but we aren't serving ourselves or each other by living with pervasive low grade fear. Concentrate on being kind and aware and taking care of yourself and your loved ones.

Now I'm home and I have to say, I'm not enjoying my home anymore. Doesn't really seem like MY home. Feels cramped, claustrophobic and like there's nowhere to be unless I want to be sleeping or watching TV. And if I'm watching TV, it's never anything I want, so that's pretty much out. These days it's the Tour de Franced, all the time. As many times a day as it's broadcast, that's how much it's on our TV. And I just couldn't care less.

Any day now Paul is getting out of here, and it can't come a second too soon. No space anywhere. For moving or thinking or anything. I keep walking into furniture and tripping over things, it's like there's little pathways everywhere just to get around. I need a home where I can lie down on the floor sometimes. I love lying around on the floor. Reading the paper all spread out, stretching, whatever. I love it even more when I'm where my dog is. She lives with my mum in the country, and always when I visit there I immediately get down on the floor with her and snuggle up. She's huge, a great pyrenees/golden retriever cross we think. She likes it when she's lying on her side for me to lie on my back with my head on her tummy. Or cross legged next to her giving her a good brushing. Which inevitably leads to bagloads of dog hair. She is the furriest creature ever. I'm going up there on Tuesday so I'll get some cuddle time in with her soon. Hooray!

Yesterday one of the guys who runs a comedy night in town called and asked me to be on his show. I had to turn it down because I'll be out of town, but I like this business of people asking me to be on shows. Itsa nicea.

My baby brother has gone back out on tour as Ben Harper's videographer. It's only for three weeks, but I miss the hell out of him. I can't believe how blessed I am to have a brother like him and for us to be so close. I think I'm closer to him than to anyone else. I totally adore him. I don't like the idea of living in different cities, so we're kind of talking about moving back east together sometime in the next couple of years. It would serve both of our careers, I think, and a change would do both of us a world of good. It'd be hard, though, as well, to be so far away from our sainted mother. I'm not sure what our stepmum would do, she's not sure how much is in Vancouver for her if we're not here, but I'll warrant that in a couple of years she'll have found her own groove here.

Anyway, Ben Harper played here on Tuesday night, good show. Really good show. He and the band came into town on Monday so my brother and I got to spend a really laid back day with Ben on Tuesday. It was totally lovely. We had lunch and took Ben to look at bicycles and wandered around. We yakked and yakked about family and comedy and love and children and performing. About the three of us needing to keep the family ties tied. It was interesting to talk about performing with Ben, because we are on such different scales, but have so many of the same feelings about it. Neato.

I just got out of the shower and now I'm itchy as hell. What do you think that's about? I think I'll go walk around.

So, I kind of miss you guys commenting, so I'm thinking I'll turn the feature back on, but with the membership filter. You'd have to join to comment, and I guess I probably have to approve your membership. In fact, I think I'll go do that right now.

Also, I'm thinking of giving up my Friendster membership. I never, ever look at it. Ever. Unless I get an email saying someone wants to be my friend. It seems misleading to stay on there. Plus, I can't have so many email addresses, and a blog, and friendster, and flickr and whatever else I'm supposed to join and keep up with. I think it's different if you are in front of your computer more of the time, like all day at your desk, but, for me, and, I suspect, others like me, it's a bit too much time consumption just keeping up with everyone's activity. I'm thinking of going back to one email address, a landline with an old school answering machine, and that's it. Thinking of it. Juuuuuust thinking.



Anonymous Shmanonymous

Okay, my lovelies. No more comments. I'm shuttin' down the option. May bring it back, but it's getting kind of creepy. I'm happy if people I don't know read the thing, but if you think I'm a "bore and a trial", then quit reading. I had to have a little think about why I was writing this thing, and, to be perfectly honest, it's for me, not you. I don't need strangers making assumptions about what kind of person I am after reading only this. Well, I don't need them telling me what their guesses are, anyways. Read it, don't read it, complain to your friends, whatever. If you know me, send me emails. If you know me and can't tell me something without it being anonymous, then we are not close. Because if you were close to me, in which case your opinion would carry weight with me, you would know that these are the kinds of comments I can brook from people that love me, and you should have the balls to talk to me in person.

Of course I don't have a relationship because I'm too self involved, it's completely a choice at this point in my life to be self involved. I have spent an enormous amount of time and energy in my life trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be and in order to pursue what I love, I have had to pull back a bit. My generous heart still beats, but I no longer give a shit whether random people like me, so I can focus on what I need.

God, it's so weird that I feel I have to defend myself against the ideas of strangers. I feel oddly paranoid wondering who wrote the "Anonymous" comment, who is so proud that they stirred up my anger bees. (As if they needed stirring. As if I am not in constant self examination mode, prioritizing and reprioritizing which of my flaws needs to be addressed.) It's made me try to figure out who it was, trying to imagine who I know who has perfect spelling and grammar, who writes like that. Then I feel sick, because it has made me question people I love. And this, in itself, was enough to make me decide I no longer want the comments.

My mother says I am too sensitive for this planet, which is probably true. I hear, see, feel everything, roll every sensation and thought and experience around in my body and my brain until I have examined every aspect, wondered what the lesson is, studying the lesson, trying to learn the lesson. There is hardly a moment when my brain isn't working, working, churning.

Of course, the stupid comments have made me think about myself, wonder if I know myself at all, and I hate that, because I have spent so long getting to the meat of me, and I think I know some pretty important things about myself. The thing is, if I'm going to have even a slightly public life, I'm going to have to get used to people thinking they know things about me even when they don't. People making assumptions about my whole self with only a sliver of the information.

You know, the two most important reasons I started this thing were so that I would write consistently without feeling the pressure of writing that I place on myself, and so people would know where my shows were happening. I'm feeling that to feel as free as I have to write what I want, I gotta do it in a bit of a bubble. It was never meant to be a conversation about me, I have enough of those, because, of course, being as self involved as I am, I love to talk about me. Which is a new trait. So, in order to keep nurturing the safety I was feeling in making my insides come out, again, no commenty. (In case you missed it the first three times I said it.)

God, this whole thing got under my skin. I need to go for a good long walk. I am so annoyed with myself for devoting any time and energy to this.

Okay, loved ones, it's less convenient to email, but have at 'er. If anyone I don't know feels compelled to comment, they can start their own blog, or forum, or whatever.

Big love,


I wonder...can you be a "bore and a trial" and "flawed, interesting and engaging"? I guess so, since apparently that's what one person thinks of me. You know, after reading the blog. (Why on earth you would keep reading when you found someone whiny, or a bore, or a trial...I have no idea).


The eddy of engaging

Is Anonymous the only one who thinks I've been a bit whiny lately? (You have to read the comment on the last post, plus my reply.) My roommates probably agree with Anonymous. I wonder if Anonymous is a Scientologist...has that kind of pull up your socks psychiatry is bullshit kind of tone. Those in the know know full well I am full up to my eyeballs of personality flaws. Perhaps I should say thank you more often for putting up with me. I'm certain it's not because you don't get anything out of being my friend. That's kind of the nice thing about getting older...realizing what you have to offer. I know who I am, but I don't always know who I WILL be...and therein lies the questioning. Constant questioning. Which leads to knowledge, which is why I know so much. Which I do. Which is why everyone I know is always calling me to ask things instead of looking in the phone book or on the internet. Because I am a font of random information. With the occasional foray into actual insight.

Surprised an anonymous commenter could get under my skin. Perhaps because I am always worrying about whining too much.

Make no mistake, I am well aware the past few weeks have been dark, and perhaps people only want to read funny here? Hm. Too bad. I'm dying to know if Anonymous is someone I know. Probably not, not well, anyhow. Perhaps a fellow comic? Could be. I challenge Anonymous to come work for one day at the flower shop and then tell me I don't exercise.

I am at once chastened, angered and petulant. Obviously Anon has struck a chord. Perhaps have been feeling sorry for myself of late. Possibly thinking it might be nice to let myself wallow for once. As usually am impatient for myself to slough off any first world problems and stay sparkling. Perhaps Anonymous doesn't know how much energy is spent giving good outward face in this world? The need for a safe spot to whine and let the bile one normally chokes back to exit? It's like a cleanse for the soul. That's what the blog is. A cleanse. So that I might go about my daily interactions free of the nagging whines. This is a place for my asshole chorus to have a voice. Well, hell, let's face it. It's a place I can say whatever I like and you all be damned!

Anyway, a bad back's a bad back. And love is love. Etc.


ps - Also, I'd like to add, that I just reread that last entry, and I don't think that one was that whiny. I'm dying to give Anonymous a good kick in the shins.

Chasing the Love Carrot.

You know what it is about Steve Martin? It's the way he's so incredibly goofy and completely intellectual at the same time. I was just watching "The Lonely Guy". Paul was watching with me and couldn't quite get over the weirdness of it, but I think that's where it's charm is. It's like an external rendering of the internal experience of how weird it is to be human. If you get my drift. Each experience of each of his characters has layers. There is the worldly truth of it, what an eyewitness would describe. But then there is how you feel inside the experience. When he is embarassed to be dining alone and to illustrate it so painfully the other diners stop talking and a spotlight is shone on him while he is shown to his table and the extraneous place settings are cleared away. I think he's my very favorite. I like his tendency towards the fantastic. Kind of magic realism. Think "LA Story" and "Picasso at the Lapin Agile".

Anyways, I was just thinking about that. I have been thinking and thinking and thinking lately and now my back has gone out. Obviously, related. Taking a weird break from doing shows. Had to cancel tonight due to back pain...standing and walking bad times. Haven't done a set since last Saturday. And haven't booked anything...well, anything, really. Think, think, think.

Less time doing comedy, more time to brood. That seems to be the equation. Harumph. Oh, well. Haven't had a really purposeful brood lately. Might as well sink my teeth into it. Perhaps if the sun came out.

When the love carrot is dangled in front of you, do you chase it? There must be a less futile way. Oh, you know, things linger. Just having some thinks about love. Who I have loved, why...who I haven't, why not. Sometimes it seems circular, but every once in a while I'll realize something I haven't before, or see something in a different way. Those are good moments. Every time a penny drops I think, "Now, see? That was worth sticking around for." Same when I think of a good joke. I have some good new jokes.

Hey, that's right. I have new jokes I want to try!! Dammit!! I was really looking forward to the show I had to cancel tonight. Too bad. The host was very kind, though, and not angry, which I guess it would be silly to be since I'm on my back and there's no real getting around that. Perhaps if I was 20 I would put myself through the agony, but not today, my friends, not today.

Where was I going with that? Oh, yes. That's right. I have some new things I want to try and therefore ought to book some shows. Huh. See right there, a little penny drop happened and I realized how much I want to do a show, not put it off for more weeks. Yay, doing shows!

That felt nice.




Conehead the Barbarian

Hi. I think I've had a lot to write about lately, but can't seem to get to it. First of all, let's welcome Kylan Morley MacArthur to the world, born to Georgia Morley and Tim MacArthur on Sunday, July 3rd at 4:15pm, weighing in at a wee 6.5 pounds and measuring a mere 23 inches in length. Very sweet little man. I am Auntie Riel, yet again. All are healthy and happy and learning things each and every minute of each and every day.

So. Why do I not feel unbound joy as I thought I would? I feel guilty that my whole life hasn't stopped to revolve around this baby, though, having said that, it's not MY baby...but...I feel like a neglectful auntie, that I shouldn't be worried about my petty problems. But fuck it. I am. I am so anxiety ridden. I suppose that could be contributing heavily to my exhaustion. I don't know. I'm not very happy right now, but that's ok, right? I'm just going to let this be.

My cell phone is back on, for those of you who were starting to think it might never be. I gotta figure out a new plan, though, because this is too much money. I haven't been talking during the day, so maybe I can figure a way to continue that. It's so bloody tempting when I'm driving around all the time to chit chat the day away. On that note, I gotta stop driving for a living. It's starting to be too stressful. I'm working in the flower shop more often, which I like, except for the part where you start at 8am. That's a bit early for me. I'll just putter along and see how it goes.

I wonder what would perk me up? A lover. That'd go a long way. When would I find the time? Paul moving out of my basement, that would REALLY go a long way. I hope he says thank you or cleans the bathroom when he leaves, because I can draw a direct line from the time he moved in to my anxiety levels skyrocketing. I need my space back. And a full night's sleep. This morning again, his alarm at 6am, and he slept through not only the alarm, but my yelling at him to turn it off, forcing me to get out of my bed hours before I planned and smack him about to wake him up. Then I was too anxious and annoyed to get any good sleep after that. I may go mad with undersleptness. I think he's going in the next two days...oh, that'll be nice. I feel very claustrophobic. I don't like sharing my bathroom. I wonder if my next place I need to live alone again. Huh. I'm going to look into that. Maybe a sweet little bachelor with a garden. Nah, I'll miss having a proper kitchen and a place to entertain. Maybe.

I seem to be a bit directionless this week. Strange, though actually a relief, to be taking the week off from comedy. Just a nice break. Haven't gone to any shows, haven't booked any. Trying to learn to cut myself a little slack. Am going to try to get an agent, have to make a resume. Hate this part. Want to earn a living acting and writing. No more jobby jobs. One of these days.

I'm going to weed something.



Oh, Canada. True, Strong, Free, Gay.

I went to see the Rodin show at the VAG yesterday. Wow. I have seen most of the sculptures before, as many of them have a permanent home at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I was once there for a Gustave Caillebotte show, (my favourite of the impressionists, look him up), and they were renovating or something, and there was this room upstairs where all the Rodin sculptures were just kind of lying around. It seemed like we had stumbled into a room that was supposed to be storing things or something, nothing was really properly on exhibit, but there were all the Rodins...it was amazing. This show at the VAG also very wonderful. I have been very, very tired this week, or else would have stayed for many hours contemplating all the pieces. They are very moving and each one could make me very happy if it was in my home. It was quite difficult not to touch them. They begged to be stroked, and some even looked like you should curl up with them. So much motion in every figure, and evocative as hell. Worth your time. I think I'll go back.

So very tired and long day ahead tomorrow, so I'll sleep now. Will keep you up to date on my rollercoaster life.

By the way, there's a Fatburger in Vancouver now, on Denman, so you should have one, if you like burgers. They were my dad's favourite. I almost liked them the best when I lived in LA, but always went with In N' Out burgers, mostly because they were only two blocks from my house. But Fatburger, yum. Me and Ian got some and ate them at the beach at English Bay.

Happy Birthday Canada. May you become an adult soon.

Oh, yeah. This is funny. I talked to my mum tonight for a long time. She's designing a show right now, or, rather they are into the building stage, so she's finished designing which means she's not occupied by it when she's driving, so she thinks about other things. Today she found herself wondering what it would be like if Karla Homolka moved to her town. This is the kind of brain I was raised by, people. She said she wondered what she would do if she went into the coffee place in town and saw Homolka there - would she walk out? Can you joke around with a serial killer? I told her that no, you can't joke around with a serial killer, everyone else would be very angry with you. God, can you imagine? How creepy would that be if Homolka moved near you. Ich.

By the way, if I ever liked Tom Cruise even one iota, I am over it over it over it. What a psycho freak. I hope he gets ostracized by the other Scientologist celebrities for making them look bad.

Yes, I have thought about this.




Seem to be having a slight hiatus this month. But keep checking, you know how I get restless.



Ten minute misconduct.

I think the worst has passed. I seem to have stopped sobbing, so that's good. I went upstairs to make tea, which I was avoiding because I didn't want to sick myself in this state on my darling roomies. Anyway, they both came in the kitchen and hugged me while I cried. Oh oh. I may start again just writing about it. Had some peppermint tea and watched the Chappelle show and the Daily Show. I enjoyed those. Jon Stewart suspiciously left Bush alone tonight. Weird.

So here's the thing. I thought I should be alone in order to keep my shit off everyone's "to worry about" list. But alone, while usually in such short supply and so desperately desired by me, is maybe not the best thing right now. I was much calmer with Chris and Katrin in the room. I felt normalized. At least, I didn't feel like I'd do myself or someone else a harm. Now I'm back in my room, alone, and I feel the whole thing creeping up on me again.

I am trying not to be a whiny little crybaby, but I am feeling serious stress lately. I know I'm not living where it's war torn, or plagued by famine, disease or disastrous weather...but I'm all wound up anyway.

Did you see Tom Cruise on the Today show lipping off about how there's no such thing as a chemical imbalance and how psychiatry is a pseudo science that he doesn't believe in? I think he's imbalanced. It's not good for people to live so far removed from reality for so long that they think they know everything about everything because their movies make a lot of money. He's becoming a dangerous man. Run, Katie, run!

I'm hoping the worst of the self loathing is over. I'm hesitant to say "all better", because, you know, the stressors are all still in place. Firmly. But I think I'll make it through the night without wanting to evaporate. Uch. I'm puffy in the eye area and now having a crazy sneezing fit. I'm probably allergic to crying, or self pity.

God, I feel like crap. I can't wait to have enough money to pay my rent. Barf. That was me barfing from anxiety. I hate when I can't eat. Uh oh. I have five new emails. I bet they're from you guys, being nice. Thanks.