If you know me at all, you know that I’m quite the songstress.

I’m not implying that I have any sort of musical talent whatsover, In fact- I’m a downright horrible singer. But I don’t tend to let that stop me. And why would I? For what I lack in talent I make up for in passion.

As I said yesterday, the last few months have been getting progressively better for me. It’s a hard thing to measure, my level of happiness. Some days are better than others, and I will always be the type of person that gets down every now and then… It’s good for your soul. Overall though, I can tell that I’m a happier person because I’ve been singing more and more lately… Especially the last few days.  And I’m no expert on life, but based on my experience- unless you’re a lunatic, Thom Yorke, or stuck in prison, you usually don’t just go around singing out of sadness.

OK I take that back. I just spent the last 10 minutes thinking of all the people who have made a living singing out of sadness: Morrisey, George Jones, Sam Beam, Ben Gibbard…. but for the point of this post, I MYSELF, don’t usually walk around singing when my heart is full of melancholy… unless it’s for the purpose of making myself more miserable… which I often love to do. It’s therapeutic!

I’ve noticed lately that people don’t always take kindly to my public outbursts of singing, which is disheartening. Sure, it may be a little weird to hear someone bust out in random song and dance in the middle of Bath and Body Works, but there’s no need for rude looks. People need to lighten up a bit. Even children seem to have lost the will to sing.

This weekend, while my sister and I were Christmas shopping- I subconsciously started singing the soundtrack to Doctor Horrible’s Sing Along Blog, which I’m currently in the midst of choreographing .  Just at the moment I realized I was singing out loud, I noticed a young girl- probably around the age of 10- glaring at me. With the rudest face I had ever seen. I laughed, expecting her to laugh back, but she continued glaring. I’m not sure why, but that moment was the most fury I’ve felt in a while.

Life should be more fun. I always feel better when I let loose, and I hate to think that there are children who think people singing is dumb. That little bitch.

A little harsh? Perhaps. But regardless, she ruined my mood.. and I can’t stand when someone puts a damper on chipperness.

A few minutes later I decided to sing again just to annoy her. And you know what? I was happy again.

I’ve been trying to figure out what has caused this sudden rise of “music in my heart.” Perhaps it’s because I recently quit taking Zoloft… which was extremely helpful for a while-but it recently dawned on me that I was tired of not feeling anything. Maybe it’s the holiday season. It could be that I’ve found myself surrounded by awesomeness in the form of mortal human beings… which for a while there- I did my best to remove myself from. Or maybe it’s just because I finally got my ipod back.

I know this is probably the dumbest post I’ve ever written, but I have an extremely cheesy point I would like to make here.

That over cliche saying asking you to “sing like noone can hear you?” It has a point. It feels good. Don’t let yourself get to the point where every little thing annoys you, like I did. Blast that music and sing along. Step outside on your front porch and sing “Oh Holy Night” at the top of your lungs. Sing along to the Muzak version of Celine Dion in the grocery store.

And if someone gives you a mean look? Just sing louder.

Unless you’re incredibly wasted and the person glaring at you is a cop. Then you should probably shut the fuck up.

I know, I know… it’s been a kazillion bajillion years since the last time I uploaded this ole’ blog. For a while there, life got so busy that I completely forgot about it. Then one day I googled myself to try to find an article I had published once upon a time… and my blog was gone. I’m not gonna lie. It freaked me out a bit. I may not have the time to come here very often anymore, but I spent way too much time sharing my deepest darkest thoughts on this site to just let it fade away. Plus I have a horrible memory and I like to have a timeline for this particular time in my life.

And thus, I’ve decided to make yet another effort to keep this site going. I’m sure I’ve long been erased from every rss feed… I’m not sure people even use rss feeds anymore. The internet seems to have changed so much in the last year. WordPress is foreign to me. I had to search through years of emails just to find my password. Words are even different. I no longer understand internet speak. The people of the internet seem to have forgotten how to spell simple words… either that, or I may have gotten old.

One things for sure. 2011 has been the craziest year of my life.

When it started I was in an extremely dark place.  I’ve always considered myself a pretty happy person. Sure, I’m emotional as hell… but I had never before  really felt depression. Long story short, I spent the better part of 6 months working on how to get a grip on my life through various forms of therapy, meditation and yoga. I had fallen back into disordered eating, had anxiety about the things I used to love, and for a while I was convinced I had lost my fire.

Then I lost my job and had to get out of town for the weekend. I took a free improv workshop at the Institution theater here  in Austin, and decided not to leave. I signed up for classes, found a part time job, and found a couple of roommates on Craigslist. That was in May. I still haven’t made it back to Dallas.

I miss my friends. A lot. But to be honest, there is a part of me that doesn’t want to look back, at least not yet. It scares me to think about where I was 6 months ago. I know I’ve grown a lot this last year, and there is no way I’ll fall again that deep… but it still scares me. Plus I’m busy as hell here and I love it.

The last few months have been amazing. I’ve met so many wonderful people in this city and I thank all of you for your encouragement. People are good. I look around and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have so many inspirational people in my life. I could have never adjusted so quickly in a new city if it weren’t for my sister, the Austin Improv Community, and the kind listeners who have reached out to me.

And that being said, I owe a long over due thank you to over a hundred of you friends and readers who wrote  recommendation letters to help me land my dream job. I fully intended to write each of you to thank you, but time got away from me and for that, I apologize. Your letters and made me laugh and cry. I still can’t believe how many of you came through for me.

Moreover, I owe this new found happiness to those of you who supported me through my tough times. I know I haven’t been the best at staying in touch, but there are A LOT of you in the blogging community and old friends who put up with a lot of complaining, venting, and whining from me over the last year. You lifted me up and encouraged me to go for my dreams. I appreciate you. And I’m glad to be back in the living. I LOVE YOU!!!

I don’t know about you, but the last few years as my thirties have been looming over me, I’ve had to face a few harsh realizations. I’ll never learn to do my “nine” times tables without using my fingers, my left knee will always forecast the weather better than Al Roker, and unfortunately; I’ll either have to work out until I’m 65 and don’t care anymore- or I’ll end up working in Vegas as a Rosie O’Donnell impersonator.

I’m weird about working out. I do it in spurts. For months at a time I’ll get on a kick where I’ll be getting physical more than Olivia Newton John- and then I’ll get burnt out and my hard core workouts will slowly trickle into slow walks around the block. Or mosies, as I like to call them.

For years, I hated going to gym more than I hated doing algebra. You couldn’t pay me to enter a building where people wore tight clothing and made faces like they were having sex as they lugged huge pieces of metal and ran on a machine with no destination and when no scary person was chasing them with a gun. A gym used to be nothing to me but a sweat sauna. I thought that I would walk in and everyone would stare at me and judge me for my rolls of fat and for not being enthusiastic about doing sit-ups. I hated that there was a place that encouraged people to do sit-ups. A gym, in short- was my version of hell.

Now I see things a bit different.

Don’t get me wrong, I still despise going to the gym. If given the choice, I’d rather sit on the couch and watch a Hannah Montana marathon, but as I said before- I don’t really have that choice at this point in my life. I can still complain about it until my face turns blue- and I could will throw tomatoes at Tony’s stupid face on the TV screen if you make me do P90X, but that doesn’t change the fact that it has to be done. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy it. I will say that I still enjoy dancing and I love the way yoga makes me feel, but everything else? Is for the birds. If someone says that they truly love spin class, their pants are either on fire or they are freak-flying over the cuckoo’s nest.

I will say this though, as much as I hate going to the gym- I have learned how to thoroughly enjoy myself once I get there. And since I love you all so much, I’ve decided to let you in on my secrets.

1. Be better than someone.

Whether you are a newbs at the gym, or a novice at pumping iron- I can promise you this: there is always someone there that you can beat at something. My gym is full of older people and women who use the gym as social hour…there is always someone I can beat at working out. It may sound a little mean, but let me tell you- you get on a treadmill next to someone who is about the same level of in-shape as you, and keep a close eye on their treadmill to make sure that you are going a tiny bit faster and burning a few more calories- and it’s no longer a workout- it’s a competition. Within a few minutes you’ll want to break out in a full-on run just to prove that you can.

That’s kind of why I like going to aerobics classes. The minute that I want to keel over and die, I simply look around for someone who is half-assing it more than I am, and then turn it up just a tad bit. It doesn’t mean you have to work a whole lot harder. Just enough to feel good about yourself that you can do more sit-ups than an 80 year old man. Win. And it’s always fun to win.

2. Pretend that it is all a performance.

This may sound a little weird, but if you change your frame of mind a little bit- it’s a guaranteed good time. Rather than thinking of my work-out as simply a time to burn calories and firm up my jelly, I prefer to play a character. This will probably be a little easier for those of you with a flare for the dramatic, but if you can get there- I promise it will change your life forever.

As I mentioned before, I have always loved to dance. More than that- I love to be on stage and role-play. I do it in all other facets of my life, so why not at the gym? If I’m in spin class, I pretend that I’m actually a biker on get-away race. If I’m swimming laps, in my brain I’m actually in the movie Jaws, trying my damndest to out-swim old sharp tooth. When I’m in aerobics class, I am performing in an aerobics video. When it looks to you that I’m lifting weights, in my head I’m actually starring in a sports movie-montage. The music you choose to listen to plays a key role in the tone and mood of your performance. It’s your soundtrack, so choose wisely. Bob Dylan is grand- but he doesn’t make well for a well- played character, unless you want to go all Clint Eastwood in the gym. Not only does role-playing take your mind away from what your actually doing, but it also helps you to achieve a damn good work-out. You don’t think Natalie Portman lost 20 pounds by just sitting on her ass, do you?

3. Make it all a performance.

Sometimes, playing a role in your head just isn’t enough. In fact, once your in character- often times, you can’t help but letting it out a little bit- and it feels good. It might be a little daunting at first, but a lot of people do it. Just look around. Those dudes don’t HAVE to make the grunting sound when they’re lifting dumb-bells. No. They are letting they’re inner Sylvester Stallone show through- and you should too.

It doesn’t have to be overly obvious; you can just take it as far as you feel comfortable. For instance, when your walking on the treadmill and listening to a Hilary Duff song on your ipod that you don’t know the words to, mouth them anyway. Nod your head. Don’t be afraid to dance a little. This is the only time in your life when people won’t know that you don’t actually know the words that you’re faking. Even sing a word out loud now and then. People around you will feel jealous that you are having so much fun, which once again- makes your workout a win.

If you happen to be in a Palates class, don’t be afraid to stare at yourself seductively in the mirror. If you’re in weight aerobics, add in the hip shakes and shoulder bounces when you feel so inclined. Focus on yourself in the mirror, and just know that everyone else in there is focusing on themselves as well. If you’re running on a track, stop and do a silly dance. If you’re lifting weights and Bohemian Rhapsody comes on your ipod, stop and use the weight as a microphone for a moment. Stop caring what anyone else thinks. Working out doesn’t benefit anyone but you, so you should only worry about yourself while doing it.

4. Point and Laugh.

This is going to sound completely hypocritical after all that I’ve said before about feeling self conscious at the gym and how everyone focuses on their selves while working out; but your just going to have to accept the fact that I am, actually a bit of a hypocrite. But I would be even more so if I said that I didn’t enjoy making fun of people in my head a little bit. And believe me, if you follow my advice about roll-playing and making your work-out a performance, I can promise you that people will be making fun of you in their heads too, so just think of it as pay-back. And payback is always a bitch.

Besides, other than Six Flags, there is no better place in the world to people watch than the gym. There are all kinds of interesting people who have to work out just like we do. People wear weird things to the gym. They make weird faces. They talk to their friends about interesting personal matters. They do weird things with their mouths when they think no one is watching. They wear gray pants so it looks like they have peed when they get crotch sweat. So watch…. and laugh quietly to yourself as you do your own weird things. It makes time go by so fast, and it will get your mind off of thinking you are going to pass out.

5. Mix it up a bit.

Everyone always says to mix up your workouts so that you won’t get bored. That is not what I mean at all. Although I do have to say that that works too.

What I’m talking about though, is something entirely different. As much as you might mix your actual workout up, it’s still a workout. So to make things interesting and entertaining- you have to really think outside the box and change the other factors that play into your workout.

Try listening to something out of the ordinary on your ipod. I use my exercise time as music exploration time. Yesterday, I listened to nothing but jazz. Last week, I listened to history podcasts. When I do choose to listen to my same old mix, I have to keep myself on my toes somehow, so I decided a while back to put Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You up” in my work out mix several times, only I went into my itunes and changed the title and artist as another band that I put on my mix so that I will effectively rickroll myself at least once a workout. It never fails to make me laugh.

I also decided that since the girls who wear sports bras and other ridiculous work out attire, are so entertaining to me- that I would join them in making my outfit enjoyable to others. I try to always wear ridiculous t-shirts to the gym. I even cut the arm-pits out of an old NSYNC shirt, because it makes me laugh.

If your really brave, try wearing an early 90′s thong leotard paired with lycra leggings and an exercise belt. Then you’ll really be able to role-play flash dance! Perhaps the next time your in aerobics and your teacher decides to put on techno-music, you should get up and flick the lights on and off to make it like a gay-bar. Why the hell not? Your paying for it. What are they going to do, kick you out?

Well maybe…. But regardless, working out sucks balls- but I hope that I could be of at least a little assistance in making it more fun for you.

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

Ahhh.. “Highhhhh Hopes, yes he had- highhhhh hopes. That song makes me happy. My mom used to sing it to me when I was a kid. I’m trying to remember that ant. Right now.

Last week everything seemed possible. I had some majorly high hopes that I could get back into a strong routine of writing and working out and being healthy and all that nonsense… Then, somewhere around mid-week, life sped up. It’s not all bad, it’s just hard to keep control with so much happening right now. I was shocked, I’m telling you SHOCKED when I realized that Thanksgiving is THIS WEEK.

I’m happy about it, because of course it means I have an excuse to see my family, take a few days off, and eat some well deserved pecan pies pie. On the other hand, I have to face the fact that this break is going to be very short lived and reality is going to hit me smack in the face again in about 4 days.

I’m working two jobs right now, which is great, on the one hand; but on the other I’m a little bit stressed. When I’m not working I’m trying to meet some other obligation that I’ve set for myself. I’m trying to maintain friendships, get to know new people, and see every live show and movie that I come across on a very limited budget. There are also vacations I want to take, books I want to read, and stories that I want to get down on computer- stat.

Have I mentioned I’m moving again next week? Again? Yeah it seems like I just moved.

Oh, probably because I did just move, like 6 months ago.

Not only am I moving again, but my best friend in the world/roommate has decided to leave me forever and take off for the far-away and foreign land of New Yawk.

That bitch.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for her. I know she’s doing what’s best for her right now. But I’m also jealous of her, and super angry that she’s leaving me all alone.

Which brings me around to Day 4 of my 30 Days of Truth. (I’m taking this super slow, shut your stupid face.)

Something I have to forgive somone else for.

It may seem a little contrived that I’m using my best friend moving as the one thing that I have to forgive, but right now it’s a huge thing for me. There are other people that I probably should make a movement to forgive, but the bitch in me just isn’t ready yet.

LA and I met the first day of sorority rush before my freshman year of college. Her first impression of me was seeing me trip and fall, then subsequently laugh loudly and introduce myself. She told me later that she didn’t want to join a sorority if everyone was as fake as I seemed. She quickly learned that my gregarious nature wasn’t an act… for the most part I am an overly friendly person. Sometimes annoyingly friendly.

Shortly after that first introduction we became fast friends. We’re opposites in nearly every way, but we’re alike in the ways that make a friendship work. From the very beginning we had something strong. I’ve never had someone in my life that wasn’t family, that I knew I would love unconditionally. We are partners in crime. Cohorts in catastrophie. Acclomplices in adventure.

A lot of people probably think our friendship is a little bit unconventional. We argue about everything, but that is something I truly appreciate about her. There aren’t many people in my life who I can express myself to without worrying that I’ll hurt their feelings. LA knows my deepest darkest secrets without me even having to tell her. We’ve gone through some really tough times, but have shared our happiest moments of the last decade together as well. She’s one of the only people who I can sit with for hours without anything, and still be completely entertained. We live together now, but don’t rely on each other to live the way some other friendships do. That’s kind of a lie, because I rely on her A LOT. She keeps me in check when I’m down. Tells me there’s no sense in worrying when I’m upset, and tells me everything is going to be OK when I insist that it isn’t. And somehow I believe her. Sometimes, even now, we go days without talking but I know that she’ll be there in a heartbeat if I really need her, and I hope she knows I’d do the same for her.

She’s taught me a lot about myself and has helped me grow. She’s taught me how to be strong, assertive and confident. Even in her weakest moments, I look up to the way that she handles situations. I know that I’m an independent person, and that she’s helped me a lot in that department, but it scares me to think that in a few months she’s not going to be just a short drive away to help me regain my sanity when I start losing it.

Blargh. LA- just so you know. I’m crying right now with glass of wine in one hand and your laptop in my lap. If you were here right now you’d tell me to be careful not to spill my wine on your computer. At least I know I still have your voice of reason in your absense. I can’t express how sad I am at the thought of you moving. Alas, I am happy for you. I’m here for you if you’re ever feeling lonely. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve ruined your shoes and lost your jewlery. I hope you can forgive me for that. In return, I won’t hate you forever for leaving me to fulfill your dreams. Love your BFF, Carissa. DON”T FORGET IT. AND P.S. IF YOU FIND A NEW BEST FRIEND IN A FEW MONTHS THEN SHE BETTER BE COOLER THAN ME. (Though I know that won’t happen.)

The truth is, things haven’t been all gloom and doom around here. It’s not like I’m sitting around in last week’s underwear listening to the Smiths on repeat while downing hot chocolate after hot chocolate. Not at all. Nope. I did laundry last weekend, am currently listening to the new Girl Talk album, and I  haven’t had a sip of hot chocolate in over 3 hours Yay me!

In other news I’m been geeking out in a major way the last few weeks. I haven’t spent a lot of time on the internets, but I have been spending a lot of time indulging in other things that make me oh so happy.

For instance, this weekend I was lucky enough to have some great girls join me on a wonderful musical adventure. I wasn’t sure it would be possible to have a night compare to the last time I went to see Joshua Radin, but -despite not making out with his drummer this time around (he had a new one who made weird sex faces when he played) it was pretty much the best night I’d had in a while.

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

Per usual, Mr. Radin’s angel voice nearly made me faint.  I know I  wasn’t the only one by the way the crowd simultaneously sighed everytime he belted out a note. His new album is a little more rock-ish than I’m used to, but I actually dig it A LOT.

The real surprise of the night was his opener, Kelley James. I probably wouldn’t have been a huge fan of his music had I not seen him live but on top of having a knack for writing clever pop-culture related songs, the dude can really pump out some quality free-style- which is pretty much my favorite thing in the world. Seriously. I believe he shares a manager with Lil Jon, which basically makes us rapper cousins.

Well not really, but I did once challenge Lil Jon to a rap off at a nice Dallas eatery. After a few cocktails, I just couldn’t help myself. It didn’t actually happen… I’m pretty sure he thought I was joking, but I’m pretty sure I could have at least battled it out for 20 or 30 seconds before he Oh Yeahhhhed me outta tha’ place.

Here is Kelley James. I think we can all relate to this song a little. In fact, while he was doing the intro, my friends and I (all avid twitter and googlers) were ironically in the audience google stalking and tweeting at him like there was no tomorrow. Enjoy.

[There is a video that cannot be displayed in this feed. Visit the blog entry to see the video.]

In other non-related news, something huge has happened with my mouth.

You may recall the long time love affair that I’ve always had with ketchup? Well I’ve decided to have a serendipitous affair. With ketchup’s father.

Yeah I know, it seems a little bit gross. I always thought tomatoes were nasticular myself. I’ve spent hours upon hours of my life picking every single ketchup morsel out of pre-made salads. I’ve tossed many a tomato out the window after Wendy’s soggied up spicy chicken sandwich by ignoring my “hold the tomatoes” request. I’ve even grossed quite a few people out by spitting bites of chewed up tomato bits into my napkin.

Not only that, but I’ve always had a bit of an issue with the word “tomato.” I can never remember how it’s spelled. I always want to put an “e” on the end, making it “tomatoe.” Is that how the British people do it? Is that correct in some language? I don’t know. I do know that I also have gotten annoyed the way people say “tomato, tomahto,” and even more when people from my home state of Texas say tomater. Which is weird because I’m perfectly fine when people say potater. I don’t know, but I think it’s just because I always hated the food so much.

But now I say, “What the heck was I thinking?” Tomatoes are delicious, delicious I tell you! How did I go so long without them on my sandwiches, in my salads, plain with some pepper on top!???

I’m sorry ketchup, but you may not be as tasty as your father. I’m still up for a threesome though if you’d like.

Yummy tomato, get in my mouth!

I know, if your an internet person you’ve probably known about this thing for months, bust since I’ve been the worst blog reader in the history of blog readers (and that’s like 13 years people), I’m only just finding out about it.

At first I thought it was interesting, but since I typically prefer not to participate in MEMEs, I decided against doing it.I figured that I would never really be able to write truthfully about myself. Hell, I’m not sure if I even know the truth about myself.

Whenever I have tried to figure myself out in the past, all I’ve ever been able to come up with are conundrums.

I love potatoes… a lot. French fries, baked potaters, sweet potaters, mashed tators, tots, hash browns… you name it. I love potatoes, but you couldn’t pay me to eat any of those items if I didn’t smother them in ketchup.

I love John Cusack. I mean hell, I pretend he’s my boyfriend in my head sometimes. But I wouldn’t want to meet him. I would find out that he’s not really Lloyd Dobler and then I’d be really sad.

I believe in God and I believe that I am ultimately a Christian, but I don’t necessarily believe that Jesus was literally God’s son, or that the  Bible is much more than a book on moral guidance.

I am a huge fan of Michael Jackson, and I have so much respect for that man and what he did for music- but listening to him sometimes hurts my earballs.

I could go on with these for days, but basically what I’m trying to say is that I’m one, bit, fat, conundrum. I have a hard time nailing down what I truly believe to be fact about myself.

Which is exactly why I’ve decided to participate in this MEME, that started- who knows where. I’ve been on a bit of a mission of self-discovery lately, and I figure this is as good as a way as any to make some progress on me.

So. I’m not sure how I plan to go about this, whether or not I’ll go in order, or if  I’ll stick to the MEME daily for the rest of NaBloPoMo, but I’m going to attempt to finish all thirty in a timely matter.  I’m not sure how interesting any of it’s going to be, so even if you’ve stuck around this long – I won’t blame you if you bow out now.

In case you have been under the same rock as me, here is the list:

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Feel free to join in, and please let me know if you do. Happy Truthing!

Since November is apparently the month of ambition and rash decisions, I’ve decided to add another one to my plate.
Yesterday I mentioned the phenomenon of NABLOPOMO, and laughed at the concept of trying to participate. Well since publishing my last blog, ( which by the way was actually published on November 1st but I can’t figure out how to set the military style time on WordPress so it always publishes to the day before,) I’ve decided that I will, in fact participate.
I can’t promise that I’ll write anything worth reading, or that the words will even be readable, or even in English for that matter- but I can promise that I am going to try my absolute damndest to write a little something every day in November. At first I was going to try to write on my other blog, but I’m not sure I’m up to facing that subject matter just yet. Right now I’m focused on trying to clear my mind and move on in life. So bear with me.

Also, since my blogs have been a little down in the dumpsters lately, I’m going to attempt to lighten up.

So… here I am. Ready to start. On day two of blogging about happy things every day for 30 days.

Hmmm..

Oh… well before I get started on happy things, I guess I should start with saying a few things about my dog BB Jellybean, who died last Friday.

BB Jellybean, You will be missed.

We got BB when I was in the 9th grade. My little sister decided that she wanted a toy poodle, so that’s what we got. BB didn’t often look like a poodle though. We loved the hell out of that puppy, but my parent’s always preferred the afro-look to the well groomed poodle look. I wince to think that I got my own personal grooming habits from my parent’s dog-grooming habits.

BB was never the typical pet. She didn’t like to go on walks. She didn’t like to chase after balls. She hated water, and she preferred to sleep on a purple velvet pillow. BB went everywhere with us, and she went there in our arms. She was never happier than when she was perched in my little sister’s lap. She belonged to all of us, but she was really my sister’s best friend. I remember when my sister was in the 5th grade and her best friend moved away, that she spent an entire day cuddled up with our little BB – stating over and over that BB was her best friend.

I feel awful that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. The last time I went home, which was only a few weeks ago, BB wasn’t doing well but I didn’t think she would be going just yet. She lost her eyesight a few months back, and I noticed that her hearing must have been going too, because she didn’t greet me at the door when I arrived. I let her sleep in my bed that night, and when I woke up she had left me a couple little presents, but I really didn’t mind. I just chalked it up to her not wanting to wake me up to let her out. BB was always really respectful like that.

About two weeks ago BB quit eating. She would barely even touch the scrambled eggs, cheese and ice cream sandwiches that my parent’s attempted to feed her by hand. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her, but said that it was probably something digestive. They gave her some antibiotics, but she still wouldn’t eat.

I have been so busy the last few weeks, that I hadn’t really been able to digest BB’s passing until tonight. I’m not sure what I believe about the human after life, but I’m 1 thousand-million percent sure that BB is in a happy place now. She’s eating popcorn and fish- crackers and she’s listening to the Little Mermaid with my late parrot Billy and my rat Bogart.

As much as “Pet Cemetary” scares the bejeezus out of me, I’m pretty sure that I would reserruct BB if I had the chance. Zombie BB might be a little bit evil, but I loved her that much.  

I miss you BB, wherever you are!

What the hell 2010? Where did you go? Last time I checked it was spring and I was getting ready for a long summer boat rides and camping trips…

Seriously though, I think I’m OK with the fact that my life has literally flown by before my eyes. At least October is over. October was a little bitch this year. Actually, looking back it was a bitch last year and the year before too. I think next year I’m just going to ignore October all together.

November though, now that’s a month I can deal with. There are so many things happening. So many things to take in. So many things I need to get done before the years over.

November, I hereby pronounce you my bitch. I’ll treat you well and in return you will keep me happy and busy and sane. OK? OK.

I really wanted to try to do that #NABLOHOMO thing, or whatever those letters are that you ambitious people  use to state that you are writing a novel in November. However, since October was an ungracious assholio that left me withering and crying on the floor begging to be hand-fed Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I’ve decided that I’m going to start with just trying to write a little something everyday. OK not EVERYday, but most days… either here or on the other place that I write. I’m also going to try to start reading blogs again. I know… this is all completely out of left field and seemingly drastic given my recent track record, but I’m going to at least try.

On top of trying to write and read like the scholarly person that I am, (HAHAHA) I’ve decided to set some other lofty goals for myself this November.

Movember: It’s a special time of year… A time that I love, not only because of the cause that’s behind the “mouvment,” but also because I really have an affinity for the mustache. Don’t get me wrong, they can be really creepy, but mostly they can be hot. Even when they do happen to be creepilicious, they give me something to laugh about, so basically the mustache is a win/win.

Creepy/Funny/Hopefully ironic mustache.

Good Mustache

(Huge thank you and a giant chest- bump to @Hipstercrite for reminding me that the above image of Burt exists, and so many other awesome things as well. I haven’t been able to comment much lately on anyone’s blog, but this lady’s blog has kept me very entertained the last few weeks.)

Anyway, I could go on about the mustache for days, and I probably will in an upcoming post, but this one is supposed to be about me.

As manly and handsome as they may be, I’ve got my own plans this Movember. Yes it’s true, I’ve decided that this month I will try my damndest NOT to grow a mustache. I know it will be hard, but it can be done. It’s no secret that I’ve been in a bit of a slump these last few months, but it’s time to pull myself together. It’s time I start brushing my hair, make a dentist appointment, and pull out my old friend Nair. It won’t be fun; it will be painful… but it CAN be achieved. If you want to donate money to me for every day that I maintain a womanly, un-ape-like appearance, I’ll gladly give a percentage of it to prostate cancer. Otherwise, I’ll just be doing it for the sake of woman-kind.

A Do-Run Run Run, A Do Run Run: My grandmommy always told me that “hate” is a strong word, so I reallydo  try to refrain from using it. However, I not only like to use the word “hate” when I’m talking about running, but I like to use it often, and usually in the sentence “I effing hate running.”  In fact, not only do I hate running, but I really detest it, and I’m pretty sure detest is a stronger synonym for the word “hate,” which makes the fact that I’ve decided to become a runner all the more Twilight Zone-ish.

I don’t actually know what has come over but I figure it’s time I set a fitness goal for myself. I keep saying that I want to get back to working out every day, but I can’t seem to find the ambition to do so. I figured that if I pick something completely ridiculous, like run a half marathon in three months, and announce that I’m doing it to the internet, that I will at least make an effort not to fail.

I started training for the run tonight. I’m afraid I didn’t get off to the best start.  I put on my running shoes, stuck my ear buds in, and took off down the block. I only got about fifteen yards before I realized I had forgotten to put on a sports bra, which you ladies know is a rookie mistake. I decided not to turn back, but instead turned up the volume on Paul Simon’s “Graceland,” and dance-walked my ass off. I swear, that Paul Simon makes my bootie shake somethin’ else.

So tomorrow I start running, for reals.

Not Drink:

…….

……….

*Crickets*

…….

Oh come on. Yeah right.

Well kinda.

Basically, I have decided to refrain from drinking during the week. It’s already been over a month.. woohoo! I made a little deal with myself. Rather than spend money on bottles of wine, I’ve decided that for every week that I go without drinking, I get to buy 3 (or 4) albums on itunes. For now, I’m sticking with the classic rock genre. I’ve decided that there are too many bands out there that I appreciate well enough, meaning I’ve collected all of their “Greatest Hits” and “Essentials,” but I’ve never really taken the time to delve into their albums.

This week (so far) I’ve been pleasuring my earballs with the aformentioned “Graceland,” and George Harrison’s “All Things Must Pass.” If you have any suggestions of “must-have” albums, please let me know.

Alright, I’m spent. Thinking about all these things I’m supposed to do this month has made me really tired.

I miss your faces and am excited about rejoining the land of the living. (I’m also excited about watching “The Walking Dead,” again next week because that show is badass!)

When I was a kid, those were my 3 favorite words in the world… but the rest of the sentence was really what was important. Whatever came out of my mouth following “Let’s pretend that…” would become my universe for the next three hours.

“Lets pretend that we’re mermaids. My mermaid name is Christina, what’s yours?… OK you’re Cynthia. Behind the barstools , that’s the lagoon where we live. The shark lives in the hot tub, so we only go in there when we have to. We have to meet Squish, the nice jellyfish, in 3 minutes for lunch. Come on!”

After that, the real world would cease to exist. I actually became Christina; I was her. It didn’t matter that I was once a 9 year old girl in a Tye-dyed one piece that kept riding up my left butt cheek. Once the three magic words were spoken, I became an 18 year old princess mermaid with perky boobs held up with a clam-shell bra. I would spend the afternoon fighting noodle-sharks and strangling pool-pump-eels. I made friends with thebubble-minnows that hung out near the drain. I lived by the law that if I stayed on land for more than five minutes, my fin would shrivel up and I would become a human for eternity. When the humans were on shore, they expected a show- so I would perform diving and flip shows where I would prove that I could do 15 or more somersaults without taking a breath.

It wasn’t always mermaids though. Sometimes I would pretend that I was a lion tamer who lived  in the jungle. I had a destiny to fulfill, and that was to ride the evil old Copper Spaniel lion that lived in the deepest depths of the trees. Other times I would be a mom who actually liked to cook.  Or if I was forced to clean, I would become a 19th century maid, mimicking the mannerisms of Cinderella. When I said I wanted to “draw,” what I actually wanted was to pretend I was a secretary. I would set up a nice little area with a stapler and a roll of tape, and I would imagine that I was completing highly important tasks. Every once in a while I would put down my number 2 pencil to answer an imaginary phone.

I continued playing pretend long after the other kids had given it up for spin the bottle and Girl Talk. Don’t get me wrong, I played those too… but when I was alone I would play out scenes with boys in front of the mirror.  I fantasized about being discovered and cast in Party of Five as the long lost Salinger sibling. I gave press talks and interviews about my rise to fame.

I know a lot of people have these sort of day dreams, but looking back, it feels like I took them to a ridiculous level. 

I realize now, that even when Idid finally grew out of 3-D fantasizing 24/7, I started to merge “pretending” into the real aspects of my life. In high school, I had several different groups of friends who were all very different. I had my dance friends, my theater friends, my cheerleader friends, and well… boys. It’s not that I was never myself around any of them, but I did learn how to pretend to be just the way they needed me to be. I don’t think this was really a bad thing though. I think I was just taking the idea of “fake it til ya make it”  and applying it to more practical aspects of my life.

For a while I thought that I was over pretending. After a college I went through a complete, life-changing transformation and for a long while I believed that I had finally found myself. I had taken up improv, which allowed me to fullfill the craving I had to “pretend;” and in my real life I was able to focus on who I really was.  I started finding music that I understood; I pursued interests that were mine, and mine alone; I lived alone and I ate what I enjoyed eating.

Somewhere over the last couple years I feel like I’ve let some of that “self discovery” disappear. I still know my passions, but I’ve found out that I’m still quite susceptible to slipping into pretend mode. I don’t do it on purpose, and Idont even realize I’m doing it, but I think I am.

Lately I find myself silently telling myself to “Let’s pretend that,” which is most often followed with “every-thing’s OK.” Whether it’s when I’m dealing with my family, my friends, or relationships- I feel like I’ve somehow trained myself  (as improvisers say) to “yes and” every situation that I’m in, until I establish what I’m dealing with. Once I know what role I’m supposed to play, I’m nice and ready  to take part in the newest “long form” improvised segment of my life.

I realize that everyone does this to an extent, after-all; we’re innately designed to adapt to our current situations. I just think that sometimes I need to completely remove myself from the stage so that I can reevaluate my real life.

I’ve found that over the last few years, I’ve started developing a habit of agreeing with peoplewhen I don’t really believe what they are saying to be true. Sometimes when I’m with certain people who expect me to be “on,” I put on a schtick because I know it will make them happy.

I still don’t think there is necessarily anything wrong with this. I’m a people pleaser. I’m a person of many faces. I enjoy being both ofthose things. The problem with my pretending is that at some point, if I ever want to keep moving forward in my starring role, I have to really establish my own character. I need to figure out the details of what makes me. I need to take note of what I love. Just as if I were performing in an improv scene, I have to ask myself these questions.

 If I’m going to go to the store to buy a bottle of wine, what wine would I  really want to drink ? If I’m going to spend $23.99 on an itunes audio book, what book would really make me happy? If I walk into a crowded coffee shop, where would I most likely sit, in a corner by myself, or would I sit down with a group of people?

Playing myself is a weird concept when I really start to think about it. I’ve started keeping a notebook with me again. This time, instead of jotting down ideas for sketches or blogs, I’ve just been writing down things that I like and things that I don’t like. I’ve already collected 20 pages that are now filled with phrases like “I could replace wine with grapes and be happy forever.”  Or “I really don’t like short shorts on men.” It’s been interesting really- recording facts about myself that I’ve never verbally admitted in the past.

I’m not sure what I’m planning on doing with my “Glossary of myself,” or my  ”Glossarme” as I’ve started to call it, but I guess I’m hoping that it will help me to move on. There are so many choices, so many options in this life- and I just have to gather up all the information I know about my character, and keep developing new scenes until I find myself in one organically progresses.

NOTE: *I’ve been in major self-reflection mode the last few weeks, so bare with me while I work some of this out on paper. I’ve decided that I’m not going to forwarn you or apologize anytime I feel inspired to go a bit sappy, it’s just where I am right now. And so is your face. So there.