Letting Go

I've never been good at it. White knuckles baby. White knuckles.

So today, I set out to let go of a year and a half of self doubt, self loathing, and self effacing bullshit.
I sat across from him at the Starbucks by my house. And it was easy to talk together. That made me sad. But I was on a mission, so I kept talking and began telling him about how I'd been feeling for the last year and a half. And then he told me what he was thinking while we were together. And I think now I can believe that it wasn't about me or what I was lacking or any of that.
It didn't make me any less sad for the end of the relationship though.
But, at least that's all I'm sad about now. That I think I can get over.
It will be hard to see his brother every day though...at least for a while.
But I hope now I can move forward with confidence that I am an amazing woman.
I'm an amazing woman who is still pretty sad though.

And before anyone gets all up in arms about how much of a dick he was to me and how I'm better off,
I know. But love is love. And there's been a lot of crap that's been in the way of me mourning the end of it.
So. Here we are.

OK So, Apparently the Entire Universe Pissed in EVERYONE'S Cornflakes Every Morning This Week.

Seriously. What the fucking fuck? It's one thing for ME to be surly, as it's part of my dang uniform. But I'm not kidding when I say that every single person in my life has had the shittiest week ever. In-fighting, Out-fighting, fighting with mythical creatures... it's retarded.

I have been dealing with some pretty xanaxy awesomeness myself this week. My Ex's (the Douche for those still playing along) brother just started working at my office this week! In my buidling! On my floor! 2 Doors from my boss's office. There are over 1200 people in this company spanning 2 buildings. What the hell are the odds? Needless to say, seeing someone who looks a hell of a lot like your ex every goddamned day stirs up some issues.

Hey, people? Pro-Tip. Emails are a shitty, shitty way to tell someone you no longer want to see them romantically.
At the very fucking least a phone call is in order.
Grow a set and have some goddamned respect.

But then, I rather do this to myself, don't I?

Maybe I'm Just Mean

But if I'm wearing headphones...please don't talk to me.
And if I take my earphones out to answer your question and then put them back in...
DO NOT CONTINUE TALKING TO ME!
Jesus.

most.approachable.girl.ever.

There's a Reason Norah Jones Is My Hero

"Not Too Late"

Tell me how you've been,
Tell what you've seen,
Tell me that you'd like to see me too.

'cause my heart is full of no blood,
My cup is full of no love,
Couldn't take another sip even if I wanted.

But it's not too late,
Not too late for love.

My lungs are out of air,
Yours are holding smoke,
And it's been like that for so long.

I've seen people try to change,
And I know it isn't easy,
But nothin' worth the time ever is.

And it's not too late,
It's not too late for love,
For love,
For love,
For love.

So um...

Yeah.

Thats...

yeah.

Damn You WGN

There is qute possibly the WORST John Lennon impersonater (tribute artist) butchering "Imagine" right now.
He sounds absolutely NOTHING like him, and they are saying he's on of the best tribute artists out there.
I call bullshit.
BULLSHIT I SAY!

So Apparently No One Will Be SPEAKING Anymore

Ok, I'm ALL about technology. I love the internet, email, cellphones, I'm a texting fiend...
But I've just gotten wind of some NEW technology.
"Sick of those rambling voicemails that you jsut don't have time to sort through?"
cue VM:
"Hey, it's me...had a pretty good day today um..."
Fade out
"Well now, you can get your voice mails emailed to you in text format."

Great. As if we've cut down on the amount of time we hear a human voice much less see a human face enough.

Lookit, I'm no saint. As I said, I love all things communication.
But I think from now on I'm going to take advantage of phones (emphasis on PHONIC) before humans evolve into creatures with no ears.

DUMB BOYSCOUT UPDATE!

He was homesick.
He. Was. Homesick.

OK, normally, I'm a hell of a lot more sympathetic towards children. But I've had a particularly bad bout with my best friend PMS, so I'm a little light in the compassion department.

HOMESICK? You're homesick, so you take your Pringles and try to go home?
HHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!!!!

Ok, sorry.
Sadly, here's what I think really happened. I think this kid has been a walking playground beating and the scouts decided to bring a little playground to the forest. Kid cries, he says "THAT'S ENOUGH" and takes off.
I feel bad for him, I really do.
And I sincerely hope that they talk to the rest of the troop to see what the hell set this kid off.

Live in the Moment, Live in the Now and Dumb Boyscouts.

Easier goddamned said than done, but we came to that phrase in the therapy today, so that's my new thing for the rest of Lent. Let's see if I can go until Easter without seriously neurosising every little goddamned thing in my life. Most notably, boys.
I'm just gonna finish out the Lenten season taking my clothes off on Fridays (For the SHOW), and not worrying about what I could be doing differently in the realm of dating.

Because here's the thing. There is absolutely nothing I can fundamentally do that will really change anyone's opinion about me or their feelings for me.

That was my mistake with the last go-round. Doing all that change while not admitting that unless he was ok with me the way I was, that we would never last.

In other news, that boyscout was found. What a dumbass. I'm sorry. He's a frickin' boyscout for cryin' upstairs. He ate lunch with the troupe, was seen eating a fucking pack of pringles..and the next thing anyone knows, the little bastard is GONE. What the fuck? What the fuck was he thinking going off into the woods by himself? What the fuck were the other scouts doing upon seeing him start to walk away from the camp? Isn't there a buddy system in place? And don't tell me maybe he just said he was headed to go take a leak or do what bears do in the woods. Cuz I'd have to say to you:
"Ew. What the fuck was he doing eating on his way to the can?"

I got nothin.

He's Just Not that Into Me...

I had an a-ha moment this past weekend. I learned over the years to stop asking people to come to my shows because well, people say "yeah, I'll totally be there!" and then they flake out. My family is totally included in this list. Everyone wonders "Why don't you ever tell us about your shows?" Gee...I wonder. Which isn't to say this applies to everyone. Just a few. A few people who do it ALL THE TIME. This is why I have adopted the "non-committal" response: "I'll try."

In another note to self: When a guy is leaving the country and doesn't respond to a "have a great trip" text message, he probably isn't all that into you. Similarly, if he doesn't respond to innocent gestures of affection, ie, a hand on a knee, he probably isn't all that into you. Similarly still, if it's been over 2 weeks since he last asked you on an actual date but still wants to make out...all together now: He probably isn't all that into you.

UCK. This last push out of winter into spring is always really difficult. I get so stir crazy and clausterphobic. I fucking hate socks. I hate long sleeves. I fucking hate coats.

And then there's the looming birthday. 32. And no closer to the house, the fence, the dog, the kid, the husband. And yes, in that order. I tell people that marriage is dead to me. And in a lot of ways it is. And there's an even bigger part of me that is so glad that I'm single so that I don't have to deal with the bullshit up there in that second paragraph. But there's still that teenager living in 1956 who's really hoping to get asked to the dance where hopefully I'll get pinned. Tee fucking hee.

Yeah, I gotta get back on my meds here soon.

The Big Gig

Ok, here we are. The Ides. And the day of my show, y'all.
I'm excited, nervous, petrified, nauseous...etc.

I gotta say. Growing up there were a couple things I always wanted to do. I always wanted to be an actor and I always wanted to be a rock star.
I've played the Double Door.
I will always have that. For the rest of my life.
I've recorded an album.
I will always have that. For the rest of my life. (and beyond)
I've heard my voice on one of the best radio stations in the country. 3 times.
I will always have that. For the rest of my life.

I suppose, the moral of THIS story...pay attention to these accomplishments. We all have them. It's crazy how much credit we don't give ourselves. It's crazy how much we don't celebrate.
So, celebrate this stuff.
I am.
For serious.

And if you're in Chicago come out to The Hideout tonight. We go on at 9. Cover is 8 bux.

\m/

"Boyfriend Season is Around the Corner..."

...Touts an online banner ad on myspace. True.com I believe is the vendor.

Everytime I see it, I want to burn things. Boyfriend season. Hurry, Girls!! It's BOYFRIEND SEASON. Don't be the only one left this season without one!
I mean, a good relationship is like a pair of UGS. Everyone whose anyone has them!! Like, wow.

And HOW do you get one??

Get skinny! Get your hair done. Keep your nails manicured and pedicured!
God Forbid he actually find out that you are, in fact, a human being!


Also, UGS are about the ugliest fucking shoe I've ever seen. I don't give a flying fuck of a rats ass if that's why they're cleverly called "UGS". No one should be wearing them much less paying the money they do for them.

Moral of the story:
Boyfriends are over-rated.
If you're single, be happy. By yourself.
For serious.

Today is National Get Over It Day.

So, um, yeah.

Get over it.

Changes

There is some change coming.
There was a total lunar eclipse this past weekened. They usually herald beginnings and endings.
I can feel something.
Wonder which way it'll go.

People Who Just Need to Stop It.

Rosie O'Donnell.
Please, just shut your everloving fucking cakehole. You narcissistic piece of shit. STOP IT.

Tyra Banks.

Jennifer Hudson. You won. It's over. Go away.

Mayor Daley. I swear to god. If the Olympics come here, I'm moving. But not before I totally egg your house.

Anyone else?

Dear John Irving:

Your last book "Until I Find You" is quite possibly one of the, if not THE, worst book I have ever read. Ever.
820 pages of garbage.
I am not connected with Hollywood in any way. Why in the holy hell would you subject me to the treatments of 5 films you clearly have cooking. Also horrible stories.
You hacked together all your books. Complete with the ear bit from HNH. What the hell is the matter with you???

I am now forced to go back and read the Hotel New Hampshire to redeem you as a favorite author.

But right now?
I hate you so bad.

To All the Men I've Loved Before...and Will Love...

Please, unless you are 100% sure you are going to do something for me, with me, about me, to me...don't tell me about it.
Ever.

And people wonder why I don't count on men anymore.

If I'm not hearing about how much of a hardship it is to do me a favor...or do your job as a fucking boyfriend, I'm hearing excuses as to why the thing wasn't accomplished at all...or won't be accomplished.

LC's Pavlovian response to promises from boys:
A mental/emotional turning away and efforts to take care of it myself.

huh. Well, that answers some questions...

Plate Tectonics

You know something has shifted when you find yourself saying
"I'm way more comfortable being single."

I'm really used to it. I like my freedom. I like liking myself. I enjoy long stretches without anxiety.

Damn, good thing I already have a cat.

And a rocking chair.

And the knitting thing taken care of.

Opening Night

Well, here we are, another opening night.

("What happens to Annie now??"
"Well, she puts on her street clothes, and she goes home.")

I still can't believe sometimes that I'm actually doing what I said I wanted to do when I was six years old.
Albeit, I don't think I imagined that I'd be pastie-clad in a burlesque show, but hell, I am having a great fucking time.