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You ever feel like you went to bed drunk and woke up hung over when in reality the closest you got to drinking was a lemon lime soda?

Woke up with a feeling of pure awful.

Headachy. Don't want to face the world. What the hell? Granted I was swimming in negativity and neurosis when I went to bed and I just went back and privatized my negative entry. Taking part in writing down that shit kind of makes me feel queasy in retrospect. That's a first. I have a blogging hangover.

Today's gonna be a better day. I know. I believe. I can feel it.

Cheers kids.
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Okay, suddenly I have "I'm just a bill" from Schoolhouse Rock stuck in my head. And I really seriously don't know why.
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And while we're on the subject of pink hair, I also have this overwhelming desire to get a frivolous tattoo that means absolutely nothing and work in a pancake house.
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I had something really funny to say, but now I don't. Sorry.
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When the going's been tough, and the city's on fire... Well... The firey tough go shopping. I stopped hoarding the cash and made myself go out and be frivolous. A froofy layered dress, checkered canvas sneakers, black plastic beaded jewelry, lavender incense, a self-help book, a movie, a cd and dinner at Mako, where $5 will get you a soda, miso soup, and 16 little vegetable sushi rolls, a cheap and tasty little restaurant I found thanks to a little book S.K. sent me. Mmmmm.... And I got to pet a big fat orange cat at the bookstore. Afterward I went cruising for a gas station where the air/water thingy wasn't out of order which led me all the way into Hollywood. As I approached the glaring neon epitome of "ghetto fabulous" on the beginnings of a Friday night flipping channels on the radio, Marilyn Manson's "Beautiful People" happens at just the right moment and today....

We feel good.

Especially since the Hollywood sign didn't burn down. I really didn't want to have to deal with that. I like seeing it every morning. It's the little things that make you happy sometimes.
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My bell rings, I answer the door. It's a guy panting and trying to catch his breath from walking up the hill. He says, "Hi... *pant pant* I'm from the college. *pant pant* We're doing a study on cancer. *wheeze* We're looking for Latino women between the ages of 45 and 60. *gasp*. Does anyone *pant* like that live here?"

I pause, blinking for a moment. I look at the back of my pale white hand, grab a lock of my pale yellow hair, calculate that I am under 45 and caucasion. I shake my head. "Um... no."

He sighs dejectedly, pants some more and says, "Do you if there are any Latino women living up further on the hill?"

"Um... no idea."

He looks around me, almost desperately, as if to find the 50 year old Latino woman I must surely be hiding in the laundry room...

"Okay. Thanks."

He looks up the hill, as if he's about to cry, pulls himself together, and trudges away.

And as I write this, I hear the telltale squealing tires of yet another unfortunate soul that had to stop in the middle. Must be a clutch. They keep trying. Dammit. I was gonna go out for sushi...
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In other news....

L.A. appears to be on fire.

This message brought to you by the view outside my window and KCAL9 news.

I'm not sure quite what to think about this.

Carry on.
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Okay. 15 minutes in and Work Related Email has already got me throwing stuff. Fuck this, I'm going out for lunch.
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-I found a new outlet for my anger. It's called, "Yelling at Work Related Email". I know that maybe 7:30 am is not the most awake time for people, but that's no excuse for being a fucking idiot. And since you can't hear me, I will yell at you. And it will be fun.

-I seem to be sleeping from 8pm to 4am lately. That's annoying. But does guarantee daylight hours.

-Confession of the day: I like to listen to cheesy love songs while doing dishes and gazing out my kitchen window at the Hollywood sign. I swear after last night's windstorm, the H is askew, but it could just be my imagination.

Back to work


Mar. 27th, 2007 05:31 am
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There's quite the wind blowing and a storm a brewing in Los Angeles. How appropriate could this possibly be? I opened the window just to let the storm blow through and clear everything out. The curtains demonstrate just how serious nature is. I hate this shit in Seattle. Here? It's a breath of fresh air... Especially when the Beastie Boys come on satellite radio...


Mar. 19th, 2007 08:18 pm
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Craigslist adult employment ad )

Is it wrong to snicker at that?
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Oh the lord's gonna buy me a mercedes benz...

Because I am the lord.

Wow. Life gets more amazing every day.
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Apparently it is my birthday.

I was not aware of this until sometime into my 2nd margarita at a Mexican restaurant in Lakewood, a gaggle of restaurant employees came out singing in spanish with a flaming plate of flan.

My first thought was, "Oh great... someone's having a birthday... lovely..."

But then they came closer.



Why are they coming at me with a flaming plate of flan???

I look across the table and my friend's cracking up. Apparently when he excused himself to go to the restroom mid meal, he decided to fuck with me and talked to management.

I was laughing so hard it took me a while to catch my breath long enough to make a wish and blow out the candle.

Especially when the female half of the couple sitting next to us leaned over and touched my shoulder and said, "happy birthday dear..."

So my question is, am I 29 again or did I just turn 30?

At any rate, it doesn't matter. February 22nd is now my birthday fuckers, I'm an honorary pisces and I want drinks!
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Fuck drugs and prostitution. If you really want to live on the edge, go get a pap smear in south central L.A.
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I just did my first ever stand up comedy set at an open mike and I didn't bomb. People laughed and I am in shock. It's not like I had 'em rolling in the aisles. I didn't "kill" but no one booed me off the stage or heckled me. Why do I feel so freaked out now? I thought the first time was supposed to hurt. Of course, it only lasted a few minutes, ended suddenly and I had this hollow feeling of "was that it?" Before I could even ask if it was in yet, I was on stage. Trying not to shake. Somehow skipping over half my material and then there was applause. Meanwhile internally I'm shaking and thinking, "fuck, no one likes me. Everyone hates me. Theyr'e all not going to laugh at you. All 7 people in this shit hole are not going to laugh at you. They're laughing at me. Or are they laughing with me? Okay... I'm not laughing. I'm feeling like puking. Why did I have that cup of coffee. Oh my god. My notes are illegible... Where was I going with that joke about wanting to fuck Simon Cowell? No where. Shit I skipped over the bit about how I like being codependent because it makes you happy...

Well, I popped my cherry.

Good enough.

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I wish I could just import my friends family and animals from Seattle here, because I really don't miss another goddamn thing. I don't miss the rain. I don't miss the chronic overcast. I don't miss Capitol Hill, First Hill, The U District, Fremont, any of it right now. The difference in mood and feeling I feel here, now that I finally said to myself "I have moved. This is my home now." is 100%. There are projects in the works. Creative collaborations galore. And it's crazy, but since there was a problem with work during the last two weeks owing to my car breaking down 3! times and being in the shop and the corporate phone pimp job blew me off the schedule, I looked for work. I made phone calls. Not just sex industry jobs, but other jobs and you know what? Everyone I talked to wants to hire me. I've never had an easier time finding a job. Ever. No resume? Fresh in town? No problem. Think about it. Call us and tell us if you want the job. This has simply been an unheard of experience for me in Seattle. For the first time in my life, I have the luxury of mulling over everywhere I interviewed this week and just deciding where I want to work. Nothing's changed on my applications. But something's obviously changed about me.

Either that or it's just plain easy to get a job in L.A. Whatever. I don't care. I literally have six job offers on the table. I'm having anxiety over picking the best one. No desperation. No having to take a job because I can't find anything else. Wow.

Of course, I feel a renewed sense of energy. Strength. And... what is that odd feeling that seems so unfamiliar because I haven't felt it so much in so long... Is that... CONFIDENCE?

Is it?

Sometimes I melt down in a pile of tears and anxiety wondering what the fuck am I doing? Where the hell am I? I'm lost and I'm obsessing over the Thomas Guide. I'm tired from driving so much. I'm hungry, I'm stressed. I don't know what to do. I'm wailing, stuck, scared that this big city is going to eat me alive but I have to keep my hands on the wheel. And I pull off at the next semi-familiar exit. I find a place to park and just freak out and cry and sob. Maybe call someone. And then I hang up. And replaced with the self talk I used to have, the "you stupid fuck, what the hell are you doing? You can't do this. You are a failure." is a new voice that says, "Okay. Calm down. Go ahead and cry. Freak the fuck out. It's okay. It feels good. Breathe. No. You don't know where you are or what you're doing. But, you are taking steps in creating the kind of life you dreamed of living. You are done with the cycles. This is new. This is you being strong. This is you fighting back when you feel like falling down. This is you cutting yourself a break because you're doing things differently, and you might not always get it right. But if you keep trying, you will. You're alive and you're living and you're taking initiative. You're taking risks. You're throwing yourself out there, even when you're absolutely terrified. You're strong. You're beautiful. You are making the best fucking lemonade out of life's lemons ever."

Where did this come from? I don't know. I don't care. If my biggest problem right now is a roommate that hates my guts? A temporary halt in cash flow? (Which is obviously in the process of being resolved.) Okay. I need a new place to live. Obviously I need to move closer to the center of things because that's where I need to be and mandatory long drives are a colossal stressful bitch. They suck, my car seats are uncomfortable, and my bitch really doesn't like to do much more than 65mph, which sucks in the land of 80 miles an hour, so I stick to the slow lane. I will love it as long as I need to. Then I will move on.

I panic in the face of change. I've panicked a lot in the last few months. I panic when I find myself inland, on a long ass stretch of highway. I panic because I'm in a strange new world. And this really is a strange new world. I'm acutely aware of the stark differences between Los Angeles and Seattle. The blocks you shouldn't be on. The sections of people. The little sections or towns or whatever that make up this huge county. The massive difference between the mansions in the Hollywood hills and the shitty run down neighborhoods just spitting difference away. Hopes and dreams and luxury balanced out with violence and despair and poverty. Everyone going fast, living fast, driving fast. Disjointed. Incohesive. Weird. Surreal. It's sink or swim. Everyone for yourself. Harsh. The heartbeat of the city seems to whisper, "Do what you can. Life is short. Love yourself or die." No better place for someone terrified of living to put their foot down and say, "This is where I've landed. This is where I'm going to live. This is where I find out what I'm made of. I will either make it here, or I will be destroyed. I have a clean slate and I now take responsibility for the new memories I will create. Some things will be beyond my control. This I accept. Sometimes things will be hard and I will feel like giving up. I will allow myself to feel this way and persevere. When I am scared, I will call someone I trust and tell them how I feel. I will make it through. I will get up and keep going."

I've found nothing more beautiful lately, than when people tell me they belive in me. It's brought tears to my eyes on more than one occasion. It's come in times when I've needed it the most. And maybe some people have been saying it all along, but I'm finally able to hear it. And I don't know if I can ever truly express how much it means to me sometimes.

I don't know what's happening next. I could be on the cusp of greatness or disaster. It's kind of up to me at this point. But although I am truly fucking scared, I can finally say that I am no longer ruled by fear.

And I am definitely interested to find out what happens next.
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Anyone remember being a teenager and having a hickey and someone telling you to say, "It's a curling iron burn?"

I used to think, a curling iron burn and a hickey could never ever look alike.

Until I got one of those super duper professional grade marcel irons.

And dropped it.

It fell straight down onto the side of my neck, right where the neck and shoulders come together, before sliding off and hitting the bathroom counter.

And sure enough?

Looks like a damned hickey.
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It all crystalized and became a lot clearer and easier to deal with, when a frustrated friend on the other side of the phone spit out, "California is your HOME now! You're HOME NOW. So just relax and ENJOY IT."

Sunshine and deserts and beaches and stages galore to stand upon. Work and opportunites and classes and no seasonal depression. Clean slates and no pre-existing pain.

Yeah, okay... I'll go with that.
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