Um. Hi.

It has been a long time since I've posted here.

Quite frankly, I don't know why I haven't deleted this blog other than I am too lazy to comb through and save the bits I've written here that I'd actually like to keep and reference again. A lot has happened since I left Ugly Fish Hat. I've had another kid. I've gained some good friends, drifted away from others and lost some important people in my life. I think I've made some minor career changes a few times, too. I don't know what has possessed me to write here again, other than my writing is skewing toward the personal instead of the professional. I guess I've missed ranting and raving a bit.

Well, Favored Son Number 1 is reading over my shoulder right now when he should be in bed. So I suppose I will shuffle off to Buffalo, if ya know what I mean. All the best.

Good Bye, Old Paint. I'm Leavin' Cheyenne

Thanks to everyone for reading me this past year and some months. It is time for me to shove off to, well, different pastures. I'll let you know if they're green or not.

I have started another blog that will deal exclusively with artistic process. I posted my first today. If you're interested in following me on my adventures you will find me at Quiet! Work in Progress.

I hope to see you there.

Avoiding Work- Again

Maybe it is time for me to give up the ol' blog. I'm starting to get back into life and all and maybe its purpose has played out. I mean, I just spent the last forty-five minutes browsing stupid quizzes as if they would bring me enlightenment. Really, I am just avoiding my life's work.

I know that sounds terribly dramatic, and it is. I'll fully admit it, I am a drama queen, but it is high time I put that drama where it belongs- on stage.

My play is so close to being finished. There are just some inconsistencies that need to be rooted out and replaced with, you know, with something brilliant. Oh yeah, I can pull that right out of my ass.

I've been writing since I could hold a pen. I've been performing since the first time I realized my goo-goos and ga-gas made people smile. In the technnique class I am taking I am realizing just how flexible and responsive my system is to this work. I am built for it. My brain is wired for it. At 12 I knew I would be a writer. At 15 I knew I would be an actor. At 26 I gave birth using all the techniques I had spent the previous 10 years learning. It is a part of my being and every second I am NOT doing it, I am denying my soul its purpose.

Blogging has been integral in getting me back to where I need to be. It has kept me writing when I wasn't writing. It kept me in contact with others when I had no one. Where can I take it from here? The context is so limited, I just don't know if there is anything I, personally, can do with it beyond continuing with this evasive, self-indulgent exercise. If I want to get my thoughts, and more importantly my questions, "out there" then I need to be using the medium to which I claim to have dedicated half of my life.

I'm not sure if I can use this blog as a tool in my upcoming journey. Maybe I can. But I don't want to hold on to it for simply sentimental reasons. Those who want to stay in touch won't need this blog to find me. If I continue, it will be with purpose.

So, yeah. I think I'm taking a blogging break and I think I've decided that just now. Just this moment. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I will check in every now and again. I am going to read all of my friends, because they both infuriate and inspire me, but I don't really know when I will be back. To the right you will find a link "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?". If you want, drop me a line and we'll talk.

Otherwise ummm... see ya.

This Is Getting Obnoxious

Your EQ is 160

50 or less: Thanks for answering honestly. Now get yourself a shrink, quick! 51-70: When it comes to understanding human emotions, you'd have better luck understanding Chinese. 71-90: You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely. 91-110: You're average. It's easy to predict how you'll react to things. But anyone could have guessed that. 111-130: You usually have it going on emotionally, but roadblocks tend to land you on your butt. 131-150: You are remarkable when it comes to relating with others. Only the biggest losers get under your skin. 150+: Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

Is this actually telling me that Dr. Phil has a high EQ? Or were they groping for someone famous with whom I could be compared?

There's no comparison. I'm not a a big bald Texan. But I should totally have my own judgemental, self righteous talk show, don't you think? I mean, if Tyra can do it...

In Case You Needed To Know Just How Evil I Am

You Are 44% Evil

You are evil, but you haven't yet mastered the dark side. Fear not though - you are on your way to world domination.

How Evil Are You?

Awkward

It really is a terrible thing when you find someone you really, really like only to discover that their taste in, well, just about everything sucks.

How is that humanly possible?

Baby Bumps

Knock it off.

You know, a woman can get a little pooch because she's retaining water, she has a bad posture day, or maybe because she ate a burrito. I know I'd be mortified if people were taking pictures of my gut everyday and speculating about the causes of my bumps and ripples. It's just mean spirited and it is a losing proposition for the poor woman. On one end of the spectrum she's lazy and letting herself go on the other end she's some baby crazed sex fiend that is controlled only by her out-of-control biological urges.

Now, I'm not one to ever stand up for JLo or Angelina or any of their ilk. Mostly because I don't care what they do. It's none of my business regardless of how beautiful they are. They are free to do as they please within the limits of the law. (That's a whole other topic and I won't get into it) I'm certainly not going to avoid their films because I don't approve of their behavior in their private lives. I'm going to avoid their films because their films suck.

Mostly, the baby bump watch is a disservice to Mexican food. Don't deprive celebrities of the cheesey tomato and refried bean goodness. I believe everyone is entitled to that much in life. We should all be able to bloat without it being front page news.

And you! You out there at the check out line! Put that thing down! You'll only encourage them and when you get your own 15 minutes of fame you will pay for it! Think about the enchiladas! Won't somebody PLEASE think about the enchiladas?

I've Been Many Places And Seen Many Things

Each Dunkin Donuts in the city has it's own personality. There are three that I run into on any given day and I definitely do have a preference for one over the other two.

First there's my Arab and Hispanic Dunkin Donuts. This is by far my favorite. They always give me a munchkin on a toothpick to bring to my donut loving boy, even when he's not with me. They're always polite and always get my order right. Everyone who works there (on the day shift, anyway) has a habit of remembering their regulars and remembering their preferences. Even if they have seasonal preferences, like yours truly. This morning I was asked if it was cold enough outside for me to have a hot cap. I smiled and said I wouldn't be switching to hot drinks until mid-October. Now THAT'S service!

Then there's the Frat Boy Dunkin Donuts. I hate this place, even though they have a patio which is a big draw when you've got a kid. The short and meaty fellows who staff the counter never get my order right and they are always busy smacking each other around instead of smiling at me and making me feel like I'm the cutest customer they've ever seen. They don't even notice my boy, even when he pays for our order. They just don't give a damn. I hate that.

Then there's the Ghetto Dunkin Donuts. It's just a couple of blocks out of the projects and is primarily staffed with Blacks and Asians. They're consciencious and always get my order right, but it isn't a very warm place. They don't smile, but they always speak politely. They don't "pop", which is how my friend Prov describes people who have "it". They don't seem to enjoy themselves but they give good service and keep the place spotless.

Taking all that into consideration, I prefer to go to the Arab and Hispanic Dunkin Donuts. I don't mind doing Ghetto Dunkin Donuts. But I see no reason to ever go to Frat Boy Dunkin Donuts when I could go two doors down to Georgia's to get a coffee and a stale bagel from biker mama who will call me "hon" or "sugar". Dude, that's just pricelss.

Then there's my favorite bakery on 9th Street that is now running a "Ramadan Special"- discounted pastry after 6pm.

I love this town.

Where I Do NOT Belong

I spent the latter part of my evening hanging out with guys who wear "urban couture" and greet each other with loud slapping handshakes that serve as a prelude to the hug and pat down. These are guys who, at the tender age of 26, use canes, have serious swagger, and names that somehow feature the letters Z, X or Q. Oh yes, there was breakdancing.

The closest I've ever gotten to hip hop is Stephen Colbert's HipHopketball, A Jazzabration.

Logic would say that I should not have been there and that, once there, I should not have stayed. I stuck out like a big, cornfed, Ginger Kid thumb. I'm not a real stranger to being out of place, but THIS, my friends, was a horse of a different color. And yet...my gut keeps telling me that this is good. It is good for me to be out of my comfort zone. It is good for me to be with people who are profoundly different from myself. It is good for me to partake in the revelry and the joyous exchange of glossy business cards and the liberal use of the word, "baby".

Baby, can I call you Bree Z?

I'd be offended if you didn't...baby.

Kiss Me On The Bus

Haven't heard that song in years. All it took was a momentary listening in a bar on Saturday night and it has been stuck in my head ever since. I don't know why, but it always makes me think of Molly Ringwald and cheese doodles.

Oh, and peach schnapps.

Yuck. I swear parents buy that shit and put it in the front of the liquor cabinet so that kids grab that and they leave the good booze alone. Well, not my parents. My parents only kept warm cans of Old Milwaukee and a few bottles of Canadian Windsor. Man, that stuff is like ass. Not just any ass, but hairy, 90 degrees in the shade and wearing polyester underwear ass.

Kiss me, on...the...BUS...

Moving forward.