They Like Me? Huh?

I only took the damn class because Eliza made me, and frankly, she can be quite persuasive when she wants to be. Of course I knew why...it was the motivational kick in the ass I had been needing for quite some time....but improv comedy? Me? I'm not funny! I don't have any funny ideas! I can't think quickly on my feet! I'm an actor, not a comedian!

I fucking loved it.

I loved it so much I decided to take the level 2 class. I loved it so much I now genuflect at Eliza's feet every time I see her and defer to her for any and all major decisions in life. (Okay, maybe I don't genuflect, but I do respect the hell out of her opinion)

But I still get nervous and still can get caught up in the whole vicious circle of being afraid thus not going with my instincts thus making crappy choices thus being afraid kind of thing. I still think I'm not any good at it, but I definitely see the huge value in these classes, both in regards to my acting career, and in my life in general. In fact, Eliza said that the reason she had me take the first class was so thaht I could learn and see that my ideas are as valid and interesting as anyone else's. She fet I was giving the city too much credit, and needed to reclaim a little for myself. Yeah, I know, my friends are fucking phenomenal, huh?

Last night I went to my level 2 improv class with a little anxiety and trepidation packed into my already overstuffed purse; I had missed class the week before and just felt out of sorts, and stupid, and not at all creative...you know, like Jabba the Hut trying to do stand up or something. (I guess I also felt slimy and fat?) And the first half of the class, for me, kind of reflected that, I think. So on the break, instead of spending the whole time kicking myself, as I would normally do, I walked briskly around the block to pump my energy up, and returned with renewed comittment to just fucking jump out there and take a risk. I also asked to play "Big Booty" to up the energy of the class....don't ask, its really not as saucy as it sounds, but it is fun.

I suppose I did bounce back, because at the end of the night I did these two scenes that even I was pleased with and which had everyone laughing. I even heard someone telling their boyfriend about it on the phone. But best of all...my teacher said I was a very talented actor! Not a talented improv-er, but a talented actor, and that could really work for me in improv. It was just really nice to get a little recognition for what I do best, but sometimes forget I do amidst the hustle and bustle of just even trying to live in this city.

And I felt realy good about myself when I left the classroom. I felt like my ideas maybe are valid, and that maybe I am giving this city too much credit.

It was also really cool that while hanging out for a few beers afterwards, many members of our small but very tight knit class came up and said how much they missed me last week. Wow! They like me! They really like me!

My Blissful Boar

Sorry to leave you hanging so long in neurosesville, but I have been swept off my feet, leaving me no equilibrium with which to write. Yes, neurotic freakazoid girl still pops her head out every so often, but on the whole I've begun to relax into this fantastic journey of getting to know (and tame?) the Wild Boar.

I also spent the entire weekend in bed...mmmmhmmm, that's right oh yee of the gutter minded, you are correct, in that way. But not because I wanted to figure out if I liked him or not (by that time I knew that I did), or because I felt like we should...because it felt right in the moment and I was ready to. What a weird simple little concept that I've somehow never ever done before.

Ummm, wow! No really, WOW!

I'm talking mind boggling.

Maybe I've dated way too many older men, but I've never ever had sex like this before. I'm talking 'bout this extraordinary ability that I've dubbed "the bounceback". I'm talking an obscene number of times in 48 hours. No exaggerration.

I'm also talking fine tuned g-spot radar...need I say more?

Couple that with wonderful cuddling and talking afterwards and this caring and closeness that kind of snuck up on me when I wasn't looking so it was already there before I could block it, and you've got a winning ticket....at least this week.

We finish eachother's sentences and spontaneously quote 80's lyrics in unison. We stayed up all night Sunday night laughing non-stop until we couldn't breathe and being completely dorkified goofy silly. He has the same favorite sushi and the same favorite Tom Waits album as me. I can talk about anything with him and laugh about everything, and we even share a few of the dark spots of personal history that we've both been through. Last night he went with me to a fundraising trailer screening of a documentary that My Little Vidipookikins is making, and met SL2000 and her boyfriend, and when we got home he took me into his arms and said "Thank you." And I, of course, replied "For what?" and He said "For letting me in...letting me into your world, letting me into your home, and letting me into you. Its an honor." And he was totally fucking sincere!

And at this very moment, he is out buying a shirt just so that he can spend the night with me, because I have pms and am having a very overemotional sad day and just wanted him to come over and hold me. And he knew that. Without me needing to spell it out for him.

I'm waiting to find his fatal fucked-upedness flaw...you know, like he's a serial killer or something, because this seems to good to be true. Its like having that best friend who totally gets you and you don't even need to explain yourself fused with a lover...and an excellent one at that.

He says his fatal flaw is probably his snoring....and I think he may be right.



(He's also buying snore strips so I can sleep)

Insecure Freakazoid Battles Wild Boar...Tonight at 11

Okay, it was a date. I, who made hollow vows of dating celibacy, broke those self same vows. I am guilty as charged. I have nothing to say in my defense, except HELP!!

You guessed it, its the return of the frighteningly neurotic mess, in all her insecure glory. However, the incarnation du jour is this ridiculous waffler who can't figure out what she wants and if she really likes this guy or is making it all up in her head.

It makes her write in the dreaded 3rd person for chrissake!! Noooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!

I literally go from Equator at noon in the summer to Siberia at 3am in February. Not that I've ever actually been to either of those places and have any inkling whatsoever what they are like...I'm just that off kilter that even my metaphors are suffering.

Here, let me try to impose at least a smidgen of the linear in here; its a long shot but I'm trying for clarity. I will call him WB or the Wild Boar, because unfortunately that is what he sounds like at 4am when he is snoring. Really. I assure you that you have never ever heard anything like this in your life, and this is coming from a woman long used to being ridiculed and almost detested at many a caving gathering for her father's infamous snoring, which incidentally sounds like a lullabye when compared with the Wild Boar's.

And for the record, though I know I owe no explanations, I have actually not slept with him yet. I bring this up out of pride, not defensiveness, as I'm usually naked before the appetizers have a chance to get cold. Abstaining for several dates is rather shocking behavior on my part (as I think my frustrated hormones will attest to at this point).

I met WB at the sdj...another bizarroid fact, and what's more while he is absolutely passionate about art, literature, and music, he is not an artist (or so he claims). While I admit to having a very hard time with both of those facts, I'm pushing through and actually giving the guy a chance. I must be getting soft in my old age. The truth is that he's fun and funny and really nice and he pays attention to little details, and pretty much gets me, calling me on my mini-bullshits in a friendly just-keeping-you-honest way. Of course on the other hand, these things scare the shit out of me and sometimes I worry that he's boring because he's lacking an edge. The question is, in my book does edge translate to is a freak who treats you like shit? Because past evidence seems to kind of point not-so-subtlely in that direction. The truth is he's quite an interesting person, even if some of it gets lost in translation (he just moved here fairly recently from Puerto Rico, and while he's completely fluent and highly educated, I get the feeling that some things just don't translate all that well); we definitely share some interests and he's open to others. He's as obsessed with travelling as I am! Maybe the boring also stems from lack of drama (of the overblown soap opera genre I have found myself accustomed to)? Maybe I'm a neurotic freakazoid who needs to shut the fuck up and just keep getting to know this guy?

He's completely aware that I am a serial freaker-outer (a term which he finds charming...for now at least, when its a seemingly innocuous word) and seems to be quite adept at handling that, I must say. He makes me laugh, he gets what I mean even when I sometimes don't, and he is an extraordinary kisser. He is very sensitive and terrifies me in that pee-in-your-pants on the wooden roller coaster kind of way because he wants intimacy...like the real kind, not just the physical kind! I'm not sure I even know what that is! I'm writing in a panicked tone of clicking here, ya just can't hear it folks!

When he spent the night (because he lives upstate a little ways right now and it was a schoolnight and all) I, of course, clumsily blurted out in my not-so-tactful voice "I'm not sleeping with you, you know!" To which he replied, "Well good because I have no intention of sleeping with you." Excuse me? What? So I said rather defensively "Well why not?" (I am so predictable) and his reply was "Because there are many different layers and levels to you, and if I sleep with you tonight, I don't ever get to see those, do I?"

Damn. He got my number.

And today, when I was in the world's pissiest mood (though nothing compared to the terror that is me on pms) because Doc Harley took the box of my crap I had left at his apartment and dropped it off at a restaurant for me or someone else to pick up which I strangely enough happen to find quite shitty, he made me laugh all day, diluting the vinegar whether I wanted him to or not. I actually said "Excuse me but I'm trying to stay in my pissy mood, could you please stop making me laugh?" I actually was pushing for him to come over tonight and stay the night, despite the fact that he didnt have anything with him for work tomorrow and was really disappointed that he didn't. Then I inexplicably freaked out and did a 180 and started with the questioning again. What the fuck is that about?

It seems to be that when I am actually with him, I have a wonderful time. Sometimes on the phone too, but considering I hate the phone and cell phones and accents do not mix well, considerably less. The freaking out seems to mostly occur when I am not at all with him, and can't seem to remember to relax and just enjoy the process. I create reasons why I shouldn't date him, or I convince myself that I made up the entire attraction in my mind. My objections seem to be purely made up in my head and don't always make sense, but just because something looks good on paper doesn't mean your gut always agrees. The question is whose voice am I hearing - gut or fear? Because the guy definitely wants to ultimately head to relationship land and I can't figure out if I want that or not. He teases me about my fear of being boxed in, and he's right. Well, at least he's aware of that little hurdle. He also has told me to remember that I don't owe him anything - which seems like a "well duh!" thing to say, but really kind of reflects a lot of past behavioral patterns and decisions in my life when I sit down and think about it.

I know this sounds weird and crass, but I feel like while the waiting and getting to know eachother thing is great, I really need to sleep with him and make sure he's good in bed before I invest any more into it - make sure we're sexually compatible. I know sex isn't everything and shouldn't be the foundation of a relationship, but it is an incredibly important part of one and pretty heavily weighed in my book. With Doc Harley, there were issues like differences in appetite (mine is evidently voracious) which made things really strained and difficult and ultimately made me kind of unhappy. Plus we weren't really all that compatible, except for the whole tie me up tie me down thing, and that's just not enough in the long run. I want to make sure the sex is hot before I progress any further, whether or not Lady Charon thinks that I need to learn how to develop a relationship where there is true intimacy and not just sex.

Plus if I get laid, I just may be a tad less neurotic.

Maybe?



(That's if I can survive the horrible mating call of the Wild Boar in his sleep - the most dreaded of sounds akin to nails on a chalkboard)

Revenge of the Loft Bed

I sleep in a loft bed in my uber cluttered apartment, to create the illusion of more space and allow for a tiny one person 1/2 futon that I sometimes can call a couch...if I'm really drunk or something. So being the tiny cluttered apartment that it is, the side bars which I climb up and down to get into and out of bed are about two feet from a shelving unit thingy (that's the catalogue term, I think), which I sometimes brace against to get up and down with more ease. For some unknown reason, when I woke up at 7:45am this morning, having to pee desperately, in my half sleep exhausted state (I hadn't slept well at all), I for some reason decided it was a fabulous idea to climb down the shelves instead. Or I couldn't tell the difference...who knows. The point is that both the contents of the shelving thingy and my oh so graceful person went crashing to the ground cutting a gigantic though not too horrendously deep gash in the ball of my left foot right under the big toe. Needless to say, this is not a practical place to have a large chunk of flesh dangling half off, as its REALLY FUCKING PAINFUL!!!! I am probably being a whiny baby, but it hurts to walk, stand, and even just sit here with it propped up...and we all know New York is such a great place to be when experiencing any discomfort walking or standing.

What a stupid way to injure yourself....almost as stupid as telling everyone exactly how it happened.

Did I mention this FUCKING HURTS?? AHHHHH!!!!

Hawaii Part I - The Big Island

I have had a very hard time re-adjusting since getting back from my long trip - between the agressive assaulting feeling of the city after the laid back slow going of Hawaii and extreme jet lag, I've been thoroughly exhausted and quite overemotional. In my attempt to re-acclimate, I haven't felt much like writing (or doing anything else for that matter), hence the almost week long silence. I still don't feel much like writing, so I decided to show a few of the 600 photos I took on my trip and let the pictures speak for me. Plus I'm secretly hoping for photographic accolades (subtle aren't I?) to boost my ego which is in constant photographic competition (war) with my father.So without further ado...the Big Island, Hawaii.

Bird of Paradise...on paradise. One of my favorite photos of the trip because the light even gave the "bird" an eye. I am such a dork.

Speed limit sign on the old Chain of Craters road in Volcanoes National Park buried in a lava flow that covered the road in 2003.

Holeil Sea Arch formed by waves continually pounding against the volcanic rock with steam plume caused by lava flowing into the ocean, hitting the cold water.

Steam plume caused by lava flowing from the current eruption on Mauna Loa at the Pu'u O'o crater as the hot lava meets the cold ocean water. Creation in the making.

Two very adorable explorers trekking through the rainforest. Aren't they cute?
I think I'll keep 'em.

Detail of a pool of water flowing in a series of waterfalls at Pe'epe'e Falls, which I'm almost certain I misspelled.

Pe'epe'e Falls shot from above, and misspelled yet again.

Rainbow Falls, near Hilo. Yup, there really are tons and tons of waterfalls in Hawaii...if you only knew how many waterfall pictures I'm not posting....

On the edge of a stem vent in Kiluea Iki crater, Volcanoes National Park. Yes, it was very hot, but the hike, which began winding through lush rainforest and then abruptly went through the desolate crater floor was incredible!

This would be super hiker in lush rainforest. It was much lusher than the photo makes it appear.

The big crater at Kiluea Volcano with a long name starting with a U that I can't even begin to remember and couldn't pronounce at the time. This is said to be the home of Pele, the volcano goddess, and this is where people leave offerrings for Pele. I left her some Japanese rice cracker snacks. I hope she likes seaweed and wasabi.

At Southpoint, the southernmost point in the U.S., its so barren and windy that the tradewinds have taken their toll on the few trees thaht manage to survive.

The old boat hoists right by Southpoint, looking north toward the rest of the island. No, Dad did not jump in.

Pu`uhonua o Honaunau National Historical Park detail of a statue.

Hawai'i's version of litter; a papaya discarded in the rocks at Kealakekua Bay.

My friend the sea turtle, sunning himself at Pu`uhonua o Honaunau. Mom and I seriously bonded with a pair of sea turtles who we swam with for about an hour while snorkeling off the Kona coast. I am completely in love with sea turtles, and hanging out with them for so long was one of the highlights of the trip.

The house (I should say mansion - it was fucking HUGE and amazing!) where we stayed in Kona, which belongs to a client of my father's, and was sort of the impetus for thw whole trip to begin with.

This is my Japanese artistic shot. I am a pretentious photographer indeed.

Dramatic photo of the cliffs of the Waipi'o Valley taken from the very northern tip of the island. This was also me proving that changing the F-stop, even on a digital can help you create the photo you want. Take that, Dad! Hah! Who's the better photographer now? (not that I'm competetive or anything...)

Okay, this one was taken by Dad on my camera, I confess. A lucky moment with lighting, where I was too busy sulking about something or other to take a pitcure and he grabbed my camera. Damn my moodiness!

While consistently cloudy skies and frequent showers (it rained almost the entire vacation) are not what you imagine when you think of an ideal tropical vacation, it can be absolutely stunning in its own way.

The front yard and view at the house we stayed at in Kona.

Hawaiian petroglyph. This one is a man..that third leg, well...its a...ummm.... third leg.

While that is an awkward place to end, I must go shower and get ready for what may or may not be a date, I'm just not sure at all. Don't ask.