Hipsters love to dance

Okay, so maybe I'm the last person on earth who wasn't familiar with "The Go Team", but I saw them last night at 9:30 Club and I must say, they had some catchy, danceable music. I actually preferred the DJ's set before and after they performed, but it was very fun. Seeing so many hipsters was quite entertaining. But those people in the band are complete stoners. HAHAHA! Crazy Brits.

Also, Jimmy Eat World was SO good live and amazing. My God, is my life even real anymore? It just keeps getting better. :)

I know I'm being very vague right now and seeing these two bands doesn't automatically equal a happy existence, but I'm really quite happy right now.

I started a new part-time job and it's kind of boring, but it's everything I was looking for. It pays well, it's laid-back and flexible. Everything seems to be working out.

I wish I could go to the gym more. I haven't had the time in the past few days and I'm really missing it. There's always tomorrow, right?

2 questions you ask strangers . . .

"What do you do for fun?"
"What do you do for a living?"

Should these two questions not have synonymous answers?

The Universe

I think it's laughable when people try to tell me there's "nothing" after you die. How can you prove there's nothing? You have faith in there being nothing just like I have faith in they're being SOMETHING because neither of us have died yet. What is the purpose of life, then? Don't come at me with some scientific bullshit because, although I believe in biology and what not to explain most things, I don't believe you can use science to talk about what happens after you die.

Maybe I'm off topic here. This has little to do with death and more to do with being alive. Maybe I have angels looking out for me, in the Judeo-Christian concept, or maybe, and which is more pragmatic for me today, the Universe simply gives you what you ask for. Time and time again things happen to me that I cannot simply brush of as coincidence. I want something, specifically, and I get it. My intuition, something that everyone has, tells me something and it turns out to be true. Go ahead and laugh and think I'm crazy, I don't really care. I know some people might think I'm crazy, and that's totally fine. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not . . .

This is my reality. This is my dream. I cannot control everything in this, but I can think positive to attract good. I can help others and I can be a good person.

It's really hard to keep this frame of mind amid everything and everyone else, but if our true goal in life is to just "be happy," as the Dali Lama states, then that's what I'm going to do. And when you follow the path of true happiness, I believe things come easier and, like Santiago experienced in "The Alchemist", the Universe conspires to get you there.

Of course, there will be obstacles that erupt outside of your control or that are, more often than not, self-inflicted, but ultimately, if you keep your goal in mind, it'll happen.

You see, I'm an optimist at heart, although I can be a moody, sarcastic, dark person when it comes to some matters (particularly in love), I just have this odd "feeling" that everything will work out in the end.

So thank you, Universe, from the bottom of my heart.

Edit: This also brings to mind a conversation I had with one of my friends about the idea of autonomy and self-fulfilling prophecies for people in Third World countries and America who are economically disadvantaged. These people don't have the knowledge and economic tools, realistically, to be as positive about life as a privileged American of the educated middle-class. I don't know if I necessarily agree with this, but I know I cannot validate my "luck" or privilege. I was not born in the slums of Peru or raised in poverty in Ethiopia. I have never even been to a Third World country. I can only speak from where I'm from and from my experience. What good would it be for me to be so depressed about extreme poverty that I even couldn't see what I've been given in my own life? Maybe one day I will help those people who need it, but I think it would be unwise for me to dwell on their circumstances and ignore my own. My life isn't perfect either. I am definitely blessed, but I feel as though I should not have to feel guilty as a result of being so.

I'm a Dating Whore

I have a late lunch/early dinner date today with a co-worker of mine at The 9:30 Club. I know he's into me and he's made it quite clear. I am not that interested in him, although he is SUCH a nice guy and I reeeeeeally enjoy spending time with him. I just love going on dates and I really like to get to know people. I almost NEVER decline an invitation to a date. I'm what you might call a "dating whore."

Usually these "dates" do not end up with a kiss. I always go into these situations thinking they are platonic, even though part of me knows that no one really dates "platonically." (I also know that this particular guy wants something more.) Some people might think I am leading these poor guys on, but to me, I could become interested in them romantically, right? But I rarely do.

I just really enjoy the actual act of dating . . .particularly if it's low-stress. I've dated a lot of guys, some of which only consisted of one date, but some lasted for several. I prefer to date around and learn as many guys as I can. I love going to different restaurants and trying new things. I'm also a "new experience whore."

If things get too serious or if the guy start expecting some physical action, then the less-than-fun part of "the talk" comes and I have to explain the "just friends" part and often that translates to, in the boy's mind, "Let's just keep it physical. No emotions!" Once I say "no" to that, his attitude becomes: "Fuck you, bitch. You're a waste of my time!"

It happens time and time again. I'd rather the guy be angry with me than hurt because when I hurt them, it makes me feel awful. Then I might give them a pity make-out session to make them happy again.

I'm really not as cold and manipulative as it may seem. It's all rather innocent. I just thoroughly enjoy hanging out with new boys. What's so wrong with that?

Lessons at 9:30: All Access Pass

I started working at Nightclub 9:30 (more commonly known as "The 9:30 Club") in September. I'm going to do a continuing series of posts about things I've learned about music, life, myself, people, and more from this amazing opportunity. . .

I've gotten to know a lot about bands/musicians by the way they treat their fans, the staff at the club, and even by the way they hold up their backstage pass (if at all).

Some talent (what we call the musicians) hold up their all access passes whenever they pass us before going backstage. A few flash their pass really quick without even looking at us. Some just merely walk by without even a jester to find their pass.

I find it interesting that often the backup singers/dancers/musicians in the OPENING ACT are INSULTED if you ask to see their pass. Once some guys who were trumpet players or something for The Roots said to me: "Didn't you just SEE me on stage?" Dude, there were like 50 other people on stage, too! I don't just sit there and look at the stage the whole time because my job isn't to sit there and watch the stage and remember all the people on it. Stuff like that really annoys me. It's pretentious and inconsiderate to not recognize that we're merely doing our jobs.

When the talent or tour managers or whoever actually takes the time out to talk to us and show us their backstage pass EACH TIME, it gives us the illusion that they are humble. It shows they know that we're just doing our jobs and that it's nothing personal, no matter how big they are or how small I am. Those are the people that I respect and have kind feelings toward. Even a half smile or eye contact while walking by me shows me that you're a nice person, or at least, you care if people think you're nice. You can't ask too much from people with huge egos, can you?

One of my favorite bands is Incubus. My friend worked at a show that they performed at and said Brandon Boyd (the lead singer) showed his backstage pass to her EACH TIME he walked by. That really shows his respectful nature and kindness as a person. As if I needed another reason to find him delicious . . .

I'm very interested in the humanity of rock stars. I'm interested in humanity as a whole, but I really enjoy hearing stories and observing first hand the positive habits and attitudes of rock stars. That is what is inspiring to me.

Reggae (10/22)

he doesn't gamble, he says
it's not his thing
"God is bigger than Christianity"
spirituality at it’s finest

listening to Bob Marley on the way home
a rare, exclusive burn of his early, early stuff
some ultra-cool and aware medic/everything has remembered
and delivered
which is rare and reassuring
i need to remember people’s names

everyone loves Portishead
"wandering star"
"i am," i say
"don’t wander," he says
"forever"
forever

Dumb + Dumber

Tyra Banks as an undercover fat woman. I missed that episode!

I feel as though I keep getting dumber and dumber each day.

When I go back and read previous entires, I realize my grammar sucks. I would like to go back and edit the entires and what not, but that seems too daunting a task. It sort of makes me want to give up. I have gotten used to poor grammar from text messaging, IMing and e-mailing. Sometimes I even forget how to capitalilize stuff . . .and doesn't it look cooler in all lower case?

And watching The Tyra Banks Show makes you dumber. She appeals to the lowest common denominator and, often, she reverts the conversation back to herself. Well, it's her show afterall, right? And although I definitely know I should finish reading at least 1 of 5 books on my bedside table right now and shut the fucking television off, I just can't stop watching.

I am a smart girl. I can analyze the hell of out of things and present my views intelligently with words on a screen, but somehow, I'm finding it hard to do so. I am not focusing. I have lots of ideas I would like to focus on for my blog, but I'm just not doing it. I think I'm going to unplug my television for a week to see if I can get my intellectual fires burning once again.

I will start tomorrow perhaps. But then again, Lance Bass is going to be on The Tyra Show talking about his homosexuality and if he's ever "had SSSSEXXXXXXXXX with a girl."

This blog used to be more organized and I feel like people liked reading it more when it was more organized. With a daily topic, I was forced to write more. Should I go back to the way it was?

The farce that is Suri Cruise

Oh, really?

This morning I did my daily (or hourly, depending on the day) check of "Oh No They Didn't!" and was delighted to see a post featuring my favorite celebrity baby (aside from Zahara Jolie-Pitt), Suri Cruise! I happen to think that Suri is the most adorable Scientology robot baby I've ever seen. When I fawn over her (and feel my biological clock start ticking) upon seeing a picture of her, immense skepticism and fear start to creep in because, less I forget, this is Tom Cruise's "child." I am pretty sure there is some Scientology curse on her that makes everyone who lays eyes on her think she's the "cutest baby ever," which is just part of Ron L. Hubbard's plan to make everyone love innocent Suri, which leads to loving Tom Cruise and, eventually, we will all become Scientologists.

Are we really supposed to believe this baby is the age we are led to believe? I have heard a lot of rumors about Tom Cruise, specifically that he's very gay, but I have not actually seen a penis in his ass, so I can't really say for sure. Why didn't he ever have a biological baby with Nicole Kidman? Recently, Nicole Kidman has admitted to having a miscarriage during her marriage to Tom Cruise. But his first wife, Mimi Rogers, has started publicly that Tom Cruise is infertile. So what's up with that?

If all this is true and Tom really can't father any children, where'd Suri get half of her DNA? I believe that Suri is Katie Holme's child because she looks like her and I believe Katie was actually pregnant, but who is Suri's biological father? Suri kind of looks like Tom, but I heard a rumor that his brother helped out and fathered the child. Also, I heard that Katie was already pregnant when she met Tom Cruise and that Chris Klein is the father. I think this seems probable. If you can remember back to the spring of 2006 when the whole world was on TomKat baby watch, Katie's belly got bigger and smaller everyday. Could it have been a prosthetic belly towards the end because she already had the baby? That could also explain the delay of the pictures and public sightings of the child until she was well over 5 or 6 months. That could have been done so we couldn't tell she was older than she was. And Suri sometimes resembles Chris Klein as well. But she always looks like Tom? I don't know. This is just a hypothesis.

There is no way that this baby is only 16 months. Before she was one she had long hair and she was photographed running and laughing about. Shiloh Jolie Pitt, who is just one month younger than Suri, still looked like an infant at the same time. I have been around a lot of babies and Suri Cruise looks and acts much older than her age.

I could be wrong. Suri could actually be their natural (haha) born baby. TomKat could have conceived her the natural way. Katie might NOT be brainwashed. Who the hell knows. All I know is that Suri Cruise is a cute little Sim baby and she sure as hell is older than they claim.

Now let's put this all in prespective, shall we? Does any of this really matter? Do I really care? Absolutely not. In the grand scheme of my life, these people will not play any signifant roles . . .but it sure is fun to think about how fucked up these rich, pampered celebrities lives are compared to my boring one.

The not-so-great job search . . .

When do we go from thinking that we can do everything to thinking we can't do anything? Maybe I should be asking myself this question because maybe I'm the only person who is fighting against this mentality . . .

I have bills that won't pay themselves. I can't ask my parents to help out with them and honestly, do I really want them to? I totally know that I should be self-sufficient and shouldn't take advantage of my parent's generosity. Aside from that, who's to say that they can help me? So I need to get another part time job, in addition, because as much as I love The 9:30 Club, it doesn't pay very well. But every single job I come across, I hate.

I'm miserable letting money be my deciding factor or motivation for anything. I am not on of those lucky(?) people who can just "have a job" for the sake of having one. I tried it for almost nine months and I wanted to claw my eyes out everyday. It was THAT bad. I felt like I was living a lie and I felt STUCK.

Am I just being a big baby? I have no idea.

Hunting for a job, something you spend a significant amount of time at, is just so hard for me. I made a vow that I wouldn't work in a boring office job again because I literally can't do it. I've proven that to myself time and time again. Somehow, they are just easy to find and everyone else just does it . . .but I'm not like everyone else. Obviously.

I need to tap into my creativity a little more and really just GO for whatever it is that I truly want. I really want to be in the entertainment industry, but it's so hard to break into for so many different reasons. For me, the complicating factor is that I don't know WHAT I want to do in the industry. The touring life seems lonely and kinda crappy to me now, after witnessing more of it firsthand. I would really like to perform, but sadly, my voice isn't what it used to be. Acting? I've taken acting classes before. It's fun, but is it a passion? Not really.

Writing is something I thoroughly enjoy. I would love to make money just writing about my thoughts and feelings . . .sort of what I do in this blog. I am going to try my best to figure out how to make this a reality.

So I'm trying to make my life resemble me. In doing that, there's bound to be loads of stress and dirty looks, but for me, this is the only option.

Maybe I need to get my ass to NYC or LA, but right now, I can't afford it. I'm not ready to make the big move yet because right now I need to continue on this change in my life.

Now I'm about to get all metaphysical up in this piece. God (or whoever is in charge up there) is making it clear to me that I need to follow bliss. I need to follow passion because to be completely honest, I'm not good at much else. Maybe this motivating factor isn't a Superior Being and maybe it's just my own Inner Voice, or my Inner Confidence, that is letting me know I'm on the right track. It seems as though listening to this voice and following my True Calling makes perfect sense.

So I have to be strong. Money makes people weak. Not keeping an eye on the prize makes people falter. I've fallen off track before and it's so much harder than just going for what I truly want. Ironic, isn't it?

And you know what, thinking too much is one of my numerous downfalls. So, I think I'm going to stop analyzing my life so much. It's giving me a headache.

"EAT FAT"

I'm reading this book by an author named Richard Klein called "Eat Fat" or "Fat Fat" . . . the interpretation of the title is up to the reader. It's a postmodern "diet" book, but really, it's not a diet at all. It's about America's preoccupation with fat connoting something negative rather than just seeing it for what it is- a fat cell. It illustrates the myths we have about fat and society's perceptions that are constantly shoved down our throats. I've just started it, so I will have to continue reading to really get a grasp for his arguments.

My body image has ALWAYS been an issue. I was a chubby kid and teased relentlessly for it. I hated being fat. I didn't think I was beautiful and I felt like I was the ugliest thing ever to walk this dearth. Now, did I really, truly feel this from inside my being or was I just manifesting in my own brain what everyone else thought about me? It's definitely the latter. I think without the input of everyone around me (the kids, mainly) telling me how fat I was and making fun of me for it, I would have been okay. I would have noticed I was different but, perhaps, I wouldn't have actually cared.

The same could be said for when I realized I was black. I never actually thought about it until everyone else started telling me about it. I wasn't brought up being über conscious of my race. It was just something I was, like being tall or having dark brown hair and eyes. The adjective "fat" could have been lumped with it, too, but somehow FAT became it's own monster. It ate up all the rest of me.

Now when I look at my body, I think I'm beautiful. Sure, I could lose a few more pounds, but I've loved every single bite that it took to get to where I am today. Sure, I agonize over eating fries or taking a few extra bites at dinner (never about eating dessert though), but I'm working on that. This path to enlightenment that I'm on doesn't have time for me to take a break counting calories. I just know there is far more to life. I'm not "accepting" my body or "excusing" my shape. That implies that I need to make an extra effort and that I'm not wonderful the way I am.

It saddens me when girls don't eat in order to be skinny. It annoys me when people think thin equals beautiful. This anorexic mentality is what makes girls think they're not good enough. But not good enough for who? Why would you want to be good enough for someone, or a society, that lessens you to numbers on a scale? I sure as hell don't. How I feel inside is good enough for me. Being healthy is good enough for me. I happen to love and appreciate curves on my body and on others. It means that we're happy and that we've indulged in good food with good friends. It means we're alive.

One day I will have a daughter and I pray to God that she'll be confident, happy and will not even need to write a blog about her body image because the whole concept of not being proud of what she looks like will be foreign to her. One day I'll have babies that will sleep on my full breasts. I'll rest them on my wide hips. I'll have a husband that loves my thick thighs. And then, maybe, I'll forget every negative thing anyone else has had the nerve to say about my body.
.
Man, I could really go for some pumpkin pie . . .

The great job search . . .

Well, to say I've been less than passionate about most of my jobs I've had since I've graduated college is an understatement. The only one I've truly loved and enjoyed is working at The 9:30 Club, but unfortunately, I am being paid next to nothing. I'm going to try to put in more hours there (as detrimental to my sleep as it is), while looking for another PT job. It's very stressful, but at this point, I need to do it because I have many bills to pay. BLEH!

I am not really into any job I come across. I think sometimes I have the answers and other times, I don't.

I need to focus.

I'm also thinking about another change to my blog. Stay tuned. :)

It's me . . .

I'm needy. And one guy called me so in a passive-aggressive way, but only, I didn't really "need" him. I just felt sorry and guilty for rejecting him, so I started putting extra effort in our friendship. Then he acted all weird.

But, cut to this morning, I'm hung-over and went to bed sort of angry and alone last night and woke up wondering why the hell I was so affected by last night. I'll say it again: I'm needy. I become even more so after being tipsy.

I can't even go into the whole story or how I thought things were going and why they stopped, but I will say this: I'm utterly and completely sick of needing the unavailable and immature BOYS who do not seem to get it. And by "get it," I don't necessarily only mean me, I mean life.

I don't care if you're 30 years old, you're still a boy. I may "only" be 23, but I'm a woman.

I thought going after an older guy would be easier, because they know what the want, right? Wrong. Boys are boys, no matter their age. A man is a man, no matter his age.

I like challenges. I like winning the prize. It's a lonely habit I have because the "prize" is almost never worth the effort.

And also, one person can't do it on their own. Be a man about it. I've decided I want a man now. That's it. No more boys. I'll leave them for the girls. I'm not going to run away from the good MEN anymore. I've done it before because it's more exciting to have drama, but you know what? DRAMA IS FUCKING BORING NOW.

Going to work is going to be a little less exciting after these developments, but I'll survive.

Ugh. Sometimes I think my love life and experiences with men is just one big joke for "God," or whoever it is that runs this place, to laugh at. Well hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahaha.

Cool Stuff

Pandora: radio from the Music Genome Project

I read in a magazine about this Internet radio website that uses scientific formulas to guess your musical tastes and suggest music you might like based on those tastes. I tried it by entering various bands I like and seeing the music the suggested. Then I entered various songs I like as well. I think the specific song option works far better than entering a band, since bands evolve and change. It's a pretty neat concept.

One thing I don't like about it, and where I think it fails in it's task, is that lyrics aren't added as a factor. Lyrics are a big point for me, being a writer, so I just can't connect to good music without good lyrics. Like, what is the music saying? I feel like often times lyrics are the heart and soul of a song. You can't always determine the mood of the songs by the key, tempo or any other musical characteristic. Minor does not always equal sad and major does not always equal happy. It's more complicated than that.

So maybe they don't have the scientific technology to detect the lyrical stylings of songs. Imagine that, science not being able to process the complications of soul and emotion . . .


Happy Friday, y'all! :)

Music + Me

It's 4:45am and due to coffee and pumpkin pie late tonight with a friend, I am having trouble sleeping. Lucky you, I have decided to write because that's what I do when I can't sleep.

So, I've always wished I could stick to an instrument. I took keyboarding lessons and was actually pretty good at keyboards/piano, but I got bored and quit. Couldn't stick with it and am ashamed to call myself a pianist.

My dad tried to teach me guitar at age 12 and I feel in love with the idea of being an awesome guitarist, but I never felt the connection to the guitar. I took lessons professionally at age 22 and still couldn't connect with it. I gave up after a couple of months.

I studied music for a year at Drexel and liked it, but thought it was pointless. I have kept in loose contact with some of my friends that graduated and most of them are still not working in the music business, despite paying $160,000 on their education and for that, I have no regrets about not staying there.

When I talk to people about being a musician, I have to laugh because I don't identify with it and don't think I am. I feel fraudulent and awkward telling people that I play piano or guitar, because truthfully, I don't. I own a keyboard and borrowed a guitar from my dad, but I don't play either of them well or frequent enough to claim ownership . . .and I've never had the inclination to do so.

I DID participate in choir ever since I was allowed to. It goes back to being in second grade, finding out that my elementary school's chorus was going to sing with Michael Jackson at President Clinton's inauguration and that I was too young to do so because you had to be in third grade to be in chorus. From that day on, I swore I'd ALWAYS be in chorus and sing. I did lots of choirs, had solos, loved performing. I took private voice lessons in college. I WAS really good at voice, but in the past few years, I've pretty much abandoned that, which is something that I have grown to regret.

Now I'm finally, at age 23, trying to actively accomplish my lifelong goal of being in a band. I've always wanted to do it, but the opportunity never presented itself. Even being around a bunch of musicians at Drexel, we never formed a band. How pathetic. I just love performing and being on stage. I feel most comfortable there.

I love being around music at my night job all the time right now. I've learned so much just being in the environment. I've learned there is nothing romantic or exciting about touring or being backstage at a show. I've learned that some rock stars are douche bags. I've learned some are really awesome. I've learned the crew and tour guys are horny. I just love being around people who are going for what the truly want. I'm hoping some of it will wear off on me.

Letter from the Editor

Hi everyone,

I have been a terrible blogger as of late. I am working on it though. I think I'm going to have to go back to some sort of schedule for topics each day because if I don't have anything to write about, I usually don't write. That simply doesn't work for a blog, does it? I will have to modify my topics.

Today I'm painting a bathroom for my mom. I'm being given free reign to redecorate it as I wish. That lady is so trusting. I'm also still looking for another part time job to supplement my working at The 9:30 Club. I need to get health insurance and I also need to defer some student loans while I'm not making anything. Bleh bleh bleh. I knew all of this was bound to happen once I quit my full-time, well-paying gig, but peace of mind is, well, priceless.

Oh and I still am thinking about moving to NYC, but I don't know if now is the right time. I think I'm going to try to visit soon though. Maybe I need to be in the environment once more to motivate me again. I am seriously losing motivation.

Today I got to download the new Radiohead album "In Rainbows." I have yet to listen to it, but plan on doing so today. I only paid $1.00 for it! AMAZING!

Well, now it's off to do these things I say I need to do. Plan this blog, pain the bathroom, get a PT job, health insurance and defer student loans, move to NYC, listen to the new Radiohead album. My work is never done . . .

Have a great day and I'll see you tomorrow.

♥,
A

FYI

I AM: changing, evolving, and optimistic
I WANT: clarity and happiness
I WISH: i had it all figured out
I HATE: meanness, negativity
I MISS: oblivion, blind innocence and freedom
I FEAR: depression, not living life to it's fullest
I HEAR: music and my inner voice
I WONDER: about life
I REGRET: forgetting my gift and purpose
I AM NOT: alone or weak
I DANCE: when I want
I SING: because I can
I CRY: when I'm overwhelmed
I AM NOT ALWAYS: happy
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: food? knots when i tie my shoe . . .everything? i don't know.
I WRITE: like I breathe
I CONFUSE: myself and others
I NEED: love
I START: now
I FINISH: then
I LOVE: you and all
I REMEMBER: your hands on my hips
I TAG: everyone

Britney's New Video

In short, she just dances on a stripper pole throughout the whole song. I guess she looks okay (well, like a relatively pretty stripper), but the video doesn't make sense. There is no story line and the video is boring as hell. It's just so disappointing. I was really rooting for her, but she's just a hopeless mess and it seems like she doesn't care anymore . . .so why should the public? Seriously, we need to boycott this chick.

Someone I Admire. . .

Hi everyone,

Okay, time to lighten this up and focus on someone other than myself! Here is my dear friend and ex co-worker, Katie. She's probably the only reason I lasted at my first job as long as I did. She is such a strong and amazing person. I'm so lucky to have gotten the chance to get to know her . . .


Love this picture! HAHA!

Name: Katie Saltzman

Age: 22

Where's your favorite place to be? Home on the Eastern Shore with family playing by the Bay :)

What do you think is beautiful? Triumph, in any form.

Are you living your dream? If so, how? If not, what are you doing to reach it?
--> I have many dreams.... I am learning who I am, and finding what I love, so I am on my way to my dreams. My dream for my 22 year old self is to just be happy with what I have, and I'm definitely making the most of it.

If money weren't an issue, how would you live your life?
--> I would move back to the Eastern Shore, live on the water, and write for my local newspaper. Simplicity=happy.

Describe your favorite outfit?
--> Jeans, a random teeee shirt, and my old dirty chucks that I've had since 8th grade. Super hot yes I know.

What's your favorite word?
-->Shit-ton.

What makes you unique?
--> I'm totally a comedian. but besides that fact, I am loyal to a fault, and that is hard to find these days...

What's your drink of choice?
--> Tom Collins.

What are your three favorite albums?
--> ohhhhhhhh man. Hardest question EVER. 1. Nirvana -- Incesticide; 2. Regina Spektor -- a mixture of 11:11, Songs and Soviet Kitsch ( I could NEVER pick just one...). 3. The Clash -- London Calling.

If you could give the 13-year-old you any advice whatsoever, what would it be?
-->YOU DON'T HAVE TO TRY TO FIX EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEMS. Even if you love them, it doesn't have to be your battle.


Stay beautiful. ♥

Back

So last night as I sat in the Backbar nursing the familiar sting of my vodka tonic, I engaged in a heavy debate with a male co-worker over an assessment of my virtually non-existent relationship history. Sure, I’ve dated around and met many, many men that I’ve entertained the idea of starting a real relationship with, but really that’s all it ever was- entertainment. But sometimes I think about who is it that’s really being entertained anymore? I’m bored with all the predictability of men all being assholes in disguise, or more often than not, flamboyantly determined to “just” sleeping with me. (Since when did being a free spirit and having commitment issues mean that I’m a slut?)

I diverted my attention from my heated exchange to say goodbye to another guy I work with, who I’ve been inexplicably drawn to since day one. He was in earshot of our discussion, but he wasn’t talking with us. He was reading. He’s a friendly introverted guy who, over the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to get to know. (Perhaps break him out of his shell by breaking out of mine?)

As he walked out of the back door of the Backbar, he threw up his hands into two peace signs while he, oh-so descriptively, said “Peace!” I unintentionally pouted.

“You’re leaving?”
He smiled, said “yes” and that was the end.

I got so sad inside, feeling the familiar sting of inapproachability and regret. I continued my conversation with my intrigued and “concerned” co-worker about my commitment issues.

Suddenly, it all hit me. Now, I’m quite well-versed and well-aware of my psychological shortcomings, but this was such a blatant revelation that I experienced watching the dark mysterious man’s back as he walked away from me fill me with such longing and dread. It just all felt too familiar.

I would describe the guys I’m more often than not attracted to as possessing the following qualities:

-smart
-quiet
-general pleasant disposition
-mysterious
-troubled
-dark
-slightly moody
-unavailable
-emotionally blocked

In other words, I’d describe them as my father. My dad, although I love him to death and have grown to be more of a friend to him as I have gotten older, has major, major, attachment (detachment?) issues. He’s always just beyond my reach. He’s completely emotionally unavailable, thus why I find myself drawn to these men because however frustrated I am by them and seemingly unable to relate- I get them. They’re comfortable.

And I want it to stop. I don’t want these types of self-destructive relationships. It’s self-protective, I know, but I am sick of not letting any of them in all the way or claiming that they won't let me in and then blaming them for being the way they are. It’s me who needs to change and I get it. It’s understood. I just don’t know how to go about this transformation.

I have met some really sweet, kind guys that I’ve turned away for one reason or another, but mostly because they were easy and . . .uncomfortable. I’ve heard about this problem I have from a lot of people, but I have been unwilling to listen and change, but now I’m ready. I’m sick of my bi-polar comfort zone. I know it’s not supposed to be like this.

But I’ll always wish he’d come back. I just know it.

My Single Step . . .

Right now, it's 10:40am and I'm in bed. I just spent the last hour or so checking up on celebrity blogs (Britney lost custody of her kids!), looking for part-time jobs on Craigslist (Meh . . .) and reading about Radiohead's decision to release their next album on their website for "free." ( Radiohead Says: Pay What You Want) Smart boys! It's true, the need for a record label for more established acts is pretty much extinct nowadays. Up and coming artists are the only ones who may need record labels to finance, market and help with their distribution until they establish themselves, but once they have all that, as Radiohead have obviously done, do they need labels? I think not.

So this is my life without a full-time job. I have to go to work tonight, but today . . .nothing. I have some vague plans to go return some jeans at Express that I've been putting off for weeks. I also need to get a new planner . . .but that's it. I knew quitting my job might be boring and a bit lonely, but I was prepared for it. It's just kind of hard finding stuff to do to fill the hours I spent behind a desk doing work I couldn't have cared less about.

On Friday, my supervisor planned a "going away" lunch for me. It was a little bizarre to be celebrating my quitting my first "real" job. I was careful to not be too excited, but also very appreciative. It was nice to know people cared about me . . .however awkward I felt. I really didn't want to make a big issue of me leaving the company, partly because I have no idea what I'm doing. I have to keep reminding myself that everything will be okay, but in all seriousness, I'm scared. I have chosen to take the "not-so-safe" route and it was a conscious decision, but it doesn't mean I'm not freaked out by it. I know you only live once, I know you're only young once and I knew that I didn't want to spend my early 20s- the time I'm ALLOWED to make mistakes and be young and stupid - not making mistakes and being young and stupid. I'm too young not to follow my dreams and go for what I truly want. I have time to settle later. Now is not the time.

I remember visiting my brother in West Virginia earlier this year where he was a weekend sports newscaster with an NBC affiliate. It was in a boring, small, run-down town and he was broke . . .but he seemed happy. He was moving toward his dream of being on ESPN. Just being around him and his young co-workers, who were all having fun, even though they might hate WHERE they were . . .it made me realize that I was missing out and that I couldn't just float through a job for the money. I had to have purpose, passion and persistence.

So what am I working towards? Well, right now I'm blogging in bed, but eventually . . .

The truth is, I'm not entirely sure where this is all going. When I tell people that I am working at 9:30 Club, it undoubtedly freaks them out. They think, "What the hell are you doing?" I'm getting paid basically nothing and working until the wee hours in the morning in a shady part of Washington, DC, but guess what? I'm happy and it feels right.

Although I don't know where I'm going exactly, I know I'm getting there one step at a time. And as my favorite ancient Chinese proverb says:

"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step."

Now, excuse me, I have to go kill some brain cells by seeing who is going to be on "The View" today . . .

State of the Blog

Hey guys,

It’s been a few days since I’ve posted because I’ve been busy as hell going through the process of quitting my day job, trying to prove myself at my night job and attempting to sleep on my downtime. I suck at sleeping during the day and am admittedly a “morning person,” so I’ve been trying my hardest to become accustomed to this nocturnal rock star lifestyle, which isn’t going too well. It must be said that although I say that I’m a “morning person,” there are many stipulations on the claim . . .such as I have to wake up ON MY OWN without an alarm clock at 9am or later, have coffee, read perezhilton.com and go to the gym. If I don’t accomplish all or at least two of these morning rituals, my morning is not complete. I’m so low maintenance.

Now on to the state of the blog . . .

As much as I love blogging about my “faves” and weird things I find on the Internet, it just isn’t working for me. I end up doing some posts half-assed just to put something up to meet the deadline. I once read that posting everyday is a secret success for bloggers, but I just don’t think it's possible for me to post something good every single day. Like many things in my life, I feel like if there isn’t any passion behind it, there’s no point. Accordingly, I think I’m going to stay true to myself and make this blog more personal, more random and, hopefully, more entertaining. Originally I didn’t think people wanted to read about my personal thoughts and feelings, so I tried to make this more of a magazine-type thing, but I now feel otherwise.

I’m definitely paying attention to the feedback everyone’s given me thus far. Oh yeah, don’t be shy . . . leave comments at the end of my blog. I DO read them and appreciate them lots. ☺

So to hell with the stupid daily post titles! Goodbye “Faves”, “WTF?” and “Trés Belle Girl of the Week”. I will still be featuring people I admire on my blog, but it’s definitely going to be less structured.

Now I’m off to reorient myself to a life without a full-time job. Oh yeah, as of today I don’t have health insurance. This is the first day of my entire life that I technically don’t have a doctor. Scary stuff . . .it’s really scary not having the security of benefits and a steady paycheck that fulltime jobs afford, but at the same time, it’s freeing. More about that later . . .

L♥ve.
A