Just wrote the worst blog of my life about traffic, coffee and OCD. Thank you computer inventors for the delete button.

Being that there are only three or four people who know about this blog a thought occurred to me. I really could just send a group email about what I did all day. of course, then it wouldn't be a blog would it?

My life is so rough...

I have the day off. It's wednesday. It's beautiful outside. I started my day with a little walk to get coffee and tea. During which I surveyed the neighborhood damage from last night/yesterdays windstorm. It really wasn't that bad. A couple of downed branches on the sidewalks but that was it. A lot of folks lost power. CBS lost power, but that was after I left so it didn't really affect me. It was a lovely walk. the cold stung my cheeks, which made me smile, such a rarity round these parts. After the walk it was off to yoga. Private yoga lessons in a beautiful studio with my friend and girlfriend.I was dreading it. Somewhere in my life I developed a fear of yoga. I can't place it, I even remember absolutely loving it as a kid and in my early teens. I sucked it up and went anyway. It was amazing. really tough but amazing. I hate to admit it but afterwords I really did feel stronger and more grounded. It just goes to show I guess. Lunch was delivered shortly thereafter. A mexican salad with grilled tofu. Yum!

A little relaxing and doggie cuddling commenced as soon as I got home and now it's off to the gym.

Now that I've written this i have no idea what the point was, if I even ever had one to begin with...

It's been one of those days. I got out of the house just the other
side of late. Not so much as to panic but enough to hurry. I arrived
fifteen minutes after my call. Not the end of the world, but, as I
hadn't been emailed a shooting schedule, I had no idea if I had any
padding or not. Oh boy did I have padding. Let me just run through
what I've done so far. Hair and make up. Duh. Two episodes of law and
order. And about an hour of YouTube watching and blog reading broken
up by one attempt at a smoke break thwarted by massive diet coke
blowing over winds. Blocking is at 2:30 and I find myself loitering
around. Blogging on foot just because.
I feel a sense of responsibility in a way. I rather enjoy other
peoples blogs. Especially the ones that read like a narrative of the
day or weekend. It's silly really because while I love music I don't
feel a responsibility to start a band. But I digress. So in the
interest of something to do and giving other people something to do
I'm getting back on the blog horse. Hi ho silver!

I would like to call someone a cunt bag today. Not for any reason, I would just like to do it.

There is a line in "What's Love Got to do with It", some chick says to tina, "You can't hide black eyes." all meaningful and whatnot ad for most of my teenage years I thought she meant that black people can't lie to other black people. I have no idea why.

It's a rough road in here. No reason to be sad, no reason to be finicky. I'm taking it out on one loved one in particular for no good reason. The pros outweigh the cons by a ton, yet still I sit  here besieged by my thoughts and an inability to move. I'm living in limbo, which is no way to be. i should be celebrating my freedom, walking in the sunshine and shit, not sitting here smoking in the apartment I don't smoke in and picking my nose feeling sorry for myself. I want someone to tell me to suck it up and knock it off but would it really help? Would it really make me smile? 

"Get me out of here. Take me away. Hold my hand in some foreign place miles away from me. "

Write. Write anything, just write. I am spewing it and spilling it on the page but it never makes it out of the book. I remember when I wrote for fun, I wrote because people read it. I liked knowing that my words were being read in japan and hong kong and germany and texas. Now, that safety is gone. I hate knowing that anyone could read what I have to say. I hate knowing that people will cut and paste it and use it as evidence for my life. I know it;s only a few people, but it's enough to freak me out. They have torn apart someone who has done nothing to deserve it. Someone who is just existing and while I have lost respect and don't like her very much, I still feel bad knowing that she's seen it and feels bad about it. I would rather they had written that she was a narcissistic, dishonest, negative human being. That I could get behind but her looks, her style? Not fair. 

I am standing at a fork in the road. On one side is a small hill, easily crossed with an attendant standing to help me if I trip, on the other is a mountain, treacherous and frightening that I must climb all on my own. I can invite people to cheer me on but that's abut it. I stand at the fork and i start to follow my gut up the steepest part of the mountain when my head and my hunger take over and lead me to the hill. I take the first step, knowing that I can turn back. It's light up here and easy but I keep looking over at the mountain, wishing I was there. i take a step back. I just back off the hill. I'm back at the fork. I walk to the base of the mountain and I'm happy. I;m hungry and I;m dirty but I'm happy. I look at the hill now as safety. The guide comes and takes my hand and leads me off the mountain. He walks me briskly up the hill telling me not to look back. He reminds me that on my way up the mountain I could slip and fall. He reminds me that I don't know what's on the other side or how long, if ever, it will take me to get there. I start crying. Tears falling. i want the mountain. He shakes his head, it's too late. I am on the conveyor belt and there's nowhere to go but forward. I think, "I'd rather have died trying to climb the mountain." And then I'm distracted by the guilded lilies he throws in my face.

I can't pretend anymore. I hate my neighborhood. This feeling has been around for a while but I've just been walking by, pretending that if I don't look it will go away, but it just won't. This morning on my way to get coffee it was almost as though it jumped out at me, grabbed my face and said, "Look at me! Look around you!" So I did and I didn't like what I saw. It's not the hipster thing, nor is it the soccer mom thing, it's just... well... everything. It hasn't been the neighborhood I feel in love with for a few years but I kept swearing up and down that I would never leave and I loved it. The truth is, when I walk around these days, I feel like I might as well move to santa monica, or even toluca fucking lake. The homogeny is gross. maybe I'm just not feeling it anymore. Maybe I'm getting old, but I'm over it. 

so I'm sitting here and  not writing. I've been feeling stuck for a while now and part of me has been blaming it on not smoking inside. The other part of me knows the truth, which is that I am lazy and unfocused and afraid to commit to anything. Even just one idea that could maybe get me going. blah!