Other people wish they were me

It is kind of funny because I know how many people wish they were me, but lately I just keep wishing I could enjoy the things I enjoy without the pressure of being me.

So many people want something from me and I just want some real friendship. I've got such a privacy wall up that I know I'm definitely part of the problem, but I'm really gun shy about opening up after the legion of people who have taken what they could from me and then turned on me. And I don't mean that in a Los Angeles way at all. I expect Los Angeles entertainment people to be like that, so it doesn't get in my way at all. But my subcultural identifications are getting really battered. I understand why people move to Los Angeles and their hair gets sleek and their torn clothing gets boxed up and their hearts break.

I know I've got all sorts of cool stuff going on, but I really need a vacation from being me before I forget the phone number and email address for who the core of me really is.

In the middle of shooting, so I suppose now is not the time to be in my journal. Just had to express myself.

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Back from afterparty. Smell like cigarettes. Must bathe.

For someone who was as spazzed out about leaving the house as I was tonight, I sure did a lot of socializing. Was pretty awesome all around too.

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Psychosomatic Yeast Infection

Doing laundry right now. Really need some clean underwear. Probably going to an adult webmaster party thing tonight. Feel kind of nauseous just thinking about going. It is a big to-do with a lot of chi-chi-ness. And I didn't get a proper RSVP, although Forrest did, so hopefully there will be no door weirdness, if I do get my ass over there. I guess I can always leave and he can party for both of us. New clothes, freshly cut hair, no PMS to blame it on, but I'm pretty sure going to this thing involves leaving the house and being around other people and away from my computer. Open bar. Decent food. At least three people present who I like and at least two I will recognize. Lots of people I know from online. This should be fun. I feel like I'm getting a yeast infection or urinary tract infection or something, but I know it is probably just psychosomatic, so I won't have to go. I took Monistat and cranberry juice pills last night, so I wouldn't have the excuse anyway. I know how I'll try to get out of stuff and I'm trying to be two steps ahead of myself.

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RUBBERDOLLIES.COM BANNER CONTEST





RUBBERDOLLIES.COM BANNER CONTEST
http://www.rubberdollies.com/contest/
Blue Blood's RubberDollies.com is brand new and now you can be a banner designer for the site!

First Prize $250 + a year membership in another Blue Blood site if the best banner is made by a Rubber Dollies site member, $250 only for a nonmember

Second Prize $100 + a six month membership in another Blue Blood site if the best banner is made by a Rubber Dollies site member, $100 only for a nonmember

Third Prize $50 + a one month membership in another Blue Blood site if the best banner is made by a Rubber Dollies site member, $50 only for a nonmember

RULES: The competition starts now and runs through Halloween. Design the best banner you can in one of the following sizes: 468x60 or 120x60 or 88x31. Format should be jpeg or gif and not too big a file. If you are not a member of the site, you may only use the images in the zip file from the page at http://www.rubberdollies.com/contest/ to make banners. If you are a member of the site, you may use any image in the Features area of the site only. You may enter as many times as you like. Banners are permitted to contain nudity, but there is no requirement that they do. Just think about what you think people will click on, although of course banners may not indicate content which is not on Rubber Dollies. All banners become property of Blue Blood. You may submit your banners at any time to rdbanners@gothicsluts.com with the subject heading "RubberDollies.com Banner Contest". It is preferred that you not zip your attachments. You may email multiple submissions at different times. Upon passing the initial judging process, finalist banners will be put into rotation across the Blue Blood network as they are approved. Winners will be picked from the finalists by a combination of how many people click on your specific banner and what percentage of the time your banner is clicked on when it shows. Statistics will be gathered through Halloween. Winners will be announced November 3.

What am I gonna do with my life?

A forum I frequent was just asking people what they did before doing websites. My answer:

Before this I did pretty much the same thing in print.

Have also been a stagehand, store manager, and about a billion other things.

Worst day job ever: A friend of mine and I took these helium balloons and tank and drove to a spot designated on a map. Then we had to make sure the balloons stayed aloft . . . so the airplanes dispensing pesticide would know where to spray. For some reason, although we both got really sick and couldn't finish the number of weeks in the contract, we were able to negotiate so that they paid us for the whole thing anyway.

************

Thinking about this reminds me of when I finished university and didn't know what to do next. I was so the girl most-likely-to-succeed. Career planning told me to be an entrepreneur. My parents told me mostly nothing and occasionally circled low-end mindless jobs with no room for advancement in the newspaper. Admin Assist this. I told my father that I wanted a career that would truly consume me, that I could be passionate about, that I need passion, intensity, rock and roll in my life, a job I would want to take home with me. My father repeated this for years after as I said, "I just wanna rock" which is fucking retarded and not something anyone who knows me could ever imagine me saying. A sometime boyfriend of mine offered to get me a job as a junior management consultant. Unfortunately, he described it as me being sort of his secretary but more important, so I told him to keep his sexual fantasies to himself.

I guess I have a bunch of different jobs now. I don't really know what to say I do when people ask, it feels so complicated, but I guess it works out.

A friend of mine from school just wrote to me and when I told him what I was up to, I said I apparently take photos of naked people and party with rock stars. It is not 100% fullfilling, but it is more or less what I set out to do.

I don't know what I really want to be doing. Feeling kind of low on the fullfillment meter today. Don't think I'm still hungover.

Went to see a friend's band play tonight. Supposed to be at an afterparty now but can't bring myself to leave the house again. Got food poisoning the night before last and didn't eat anything but half a smoothie yesterday. Went drinking with a webmaster I know mostly from online. Man, note to self, do not attempt to match drinks with an adult webmaster because some of those guys can really drink. And there was that whole empty stomach thing too. I think I had a conversation about music with my drinking bud which was so good and real and un-LA that I lost track of time. Either that or I blacked out for a few. I practically never drink and I've gotten actually drunk, really drunk, twice this week. Can't tell if this means something or is just an odd confluence of factors. Once was to get a big radio interview and once to attempt to make human contact in person and make a new friend. I didn't used to be too freaked out to leave the house, but more and more, I find the whole leaving my cave thing to be a tense and unsatisfying practice.

Went to get my hair cut today. Contemplated suicide to avoid getting up this afternoon when my alarm went off. Got up anyway. My hairdresser felt so bad for me as he pulled on my hair to get the cut right. I told him not to worry because I was tough and could take it and deserved it. In a weird way it actually helped clear my head. Driving to OC to go to the only guy I trust did not help my head, but it had to be done. In a minute, I am going to watch this week's OC on TiVo, eat some leftover pulled pork, and hopefully get to sleep. I still have not figured out what I find so compelling about that show. It is the sort of thing I would not normally be into. Been feeling a bit not myself lately.

After my haircut, I wanted to wait out rush hour and Saks was having this bizarre thing where the Ritz-Carlton was catering. Had a couple of teensy snack things and a bunch of Pelligrino courtesy of the Ritz. Bought some clothes which I actually need as my wardrobe is getting kinda thin. Whole thing was really surreal. They had a guest plastic surgeon as one of the speakers for the event. I live in Southern Cali indeed. Very surreal.

Here is a late night self-portrait of my new haircut after a night on the town . . . drinking bottled water:

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Saturday

Just finished doing a radio interview about GothicSluts.com with a station in my old stomping grounds in DC and I'm REALLY plastered. I didn't think I was drinking that much, but I was nervous and I had the Moet already ...

It went really well and was a lot of fun.

Then dingopariah returned the message I left on his cell phone to confirm that it was a real radio show. We complained about politicians for a while and the way of the world. We are not old yet, but we are trying.

I should go wash the purple dye out of my hair.

I should do another site update for http://www.gothicsluts.com/

When the universe is against ya

This photo was supposedly taken during a forest fire in Oregon last week and was published by Clear Channel. What does it look like to you?

As my current thoughts don't seem to be what I want to write down, here is a re-run. How did my life get from there to here?

I once purchased and attempted to cook squid during the first month I was living in a new group house. Normally, I enjoy squid sliced, coated with breadcrumbs or seasoned flour, and deep fried. In this instance, however, I had purchased the squid whole as that is how it was packaged at the supermarket where calamari was on special super sale. I purchased my own oil as we had agreed as a house that communal ownership of such items would only lead to abuses. When I got home, I realized that (1) my good frying pan was being used to store someone else's food in the refrigerator, (2) the remaining frying pan was losing its cooking surface in an endless torrent of brown, nonstick dandruff, (3) we had no knives sharp enough to cut raw squid, and (4) I had forgotten to get flour anyway.

So I tried to broil an entire squid body. This made the house smell kind of funny. The scent of whole broiled squid is not as pleasing as that of properly prepared and fried calamari slices. I think maybe there are like innards or something which need to be removed before heating.

So my housemates bitched and moaned. So I did the considerate thing and menaced them with the remaining raw squid, while I waited for my meal to finish cooking. I finally put one of the raw squid on one of my housemates' bare back. Now this was a guy who collected guns and put fishhooks through his body parts in public for fun. So naturally he ran through the living room, shrieking, "Get it off! Get it off me!" The offending crustacean (What phylum do squids belong to anyway?) eventually slipped off his back and fell on the floor and believe me, even that early on in our occupancy, there was no way I was going to eat anything which had been on a group house carpet. It turned out that broiled squid was pretty inedible, at least the way I had prepared it, so I accepted a lease-long ban on squid in the house.

I could cook both before and after my residence in this group house, but there was something about that kitchen which caused cooking disasters. I would find myself looking through the bottom of a melted pot or offering a date a semi-burned grilled cheese sandwich and commenting, "Looks don't last; cookin' do." Just by reheating something garlic-y in the microwave, one of my housemates once made one of two drunk guys who were making out on top of our stove vomit all over the kitchen floor. When they continued to make out on top of the stove afterwards, he threatened to turn on the burners. I don't think he meant it in a homophobic way; it was just kitchen cursing us.

I tried to switch to eating things like cheap flank steak purchased in econo-packs, but the guy I put the squid on kept eating all my beef and claiming he mistook it for his own and excusing his theft my pointing out that he had let me taste it and he was a decent cook. Come to think of it, I think I was the one reheating something garlic-y in the microwave (although not the one threatening to cook the couple.) Maybe the kitchen spirits were just commenting on my taste in food no housemate would want to lift.

Mission Accomplished

Now in possession of Moet and sushi. I think I will watch The O.C. on TiVo before getting back to work. Yeah, The O.C. Anyone else watching this show?

I really need to scour my brainpan and just think about work.

I'm never going to make these next three deadlines.

Moet
Going to go to the grocery store before they close and buy a couple bottles.

I fucking hate people
Some cunt I never heard of just spammed some heavy metal fest happening in October in Forrest's thread about losing his father. If it were someone I thought he knew and she was suggesting he go to something say tomorrow night because it might be fun or uplifting or something, that would be cool or at least okay, depending on the suggestion. But just posting a press release in response to something that personal and awful . . . grrr.

Motivation
Ugh, having some trouble feeling like doing anything. Having a good helping of existential angst.

Hugs to Forrest

Getting out of town. Totally frazzled. Extra frazzled trying to get ready. So many things I wanted to get done before leaving. Ah well. Hope to come back both accomplished and refreshed . . .