As many of you know, I'm a pretty big fan of HBO's hit show "Big Love". For those who've never seen it, it's about a polygamist family living in modern day Salt Lake City. The characters are all kind of caught between two worlds, and live in a permanent state of non-acceptance; they've been isolated from their family who still lives on the compound because of their more modern ways, and shunned by the Salt Lake City Mormon church--which no longer condones polygamy. They're also forced to hide their non-traditional family from neighbours and co-workers, both out of fear of being outed and losing their social status, and out of fear of being arrested.

The newest season of the show features the lead character deciding his life's calling is to become a Senator, despite the fact that he has these many deep, dark secrets and is living a double life that is likely to anger and upset many when exposed. He's both arrogant and idealistic, and thinks his plan to get himself elected as a conservative family man and then reveal the truth about his family is a good way to expose the prejudice and bigotry against them for what it is.

It got me thinking about our society, and how we're all just addicted to "scandal", which is really a polite way of saying we all love to judge other people. The whole world tunes into 20/20 and Dateline to watch the latest disgraced politician or fallen athlete try vainly to apologise and redeem himself. Shows like Entertainment Tonight and TMZ are huge; we all want to hear the sordid details of the lives of people who are clearly crazier than ourselves. Reality TV, "talk" shows, the 2 million incarnations of Judge Judy-type dramas; our entertainment so often revolves around the judgments we pass on other people.

What would life be like if we just lived in a world where dirty little secrets weren't so dirty? What if politicians and athletes and other public figures were not only encouraged, but embraced, by not the perception of living a "dirty little secret"-free life (which, let's face it, is an elaborate lie for almost all of us) but by their straightforwardness and honesty? What if nobody really cared what drugs Mrs. Smith had in her secret stash, or that Mr. Jones cheated on his wife, or that the head of the PTA had a criminal record? What if nobody was shocked, or entertained, or even interested in learning that other people, even famous, wealthy, accomplished people, had skeletons in their closets fairly similar to the ones most of us have?

Sure, everyone has different secrets, but almost all of us have them. Wouldn't it be a different kind of world if we were not so routinely fascinated by the secrets of others, by judging a person based upon one action or set of choices in his life? (really? Does Tiger Woods suddenly suck at golf because he likes to sleep with white girls he's not married to? If not, why do we care? His job is to be good at golf.) What if we all were forced to become more open about ourselves, and consequently, more accepting of others?

Well, there'd be a lot less TV, and people who made their livings from merely being as scandalous as possible, or "asking the tough questions" to try to unearth scandal from other people's lives...perhaps destroying them in the process, but certainly gaining a lot of media attention...would have to find new jobs. People would get their news from other sources besides the National Enquirer and Perez Hilton, and political pundits would actually have to use their power of snarkiness to deal with the issues. We'd all have to save our shock and outrage and "Oh, my God, that person is such a bad person" for things that might really deserve it. Just turn on the 5 o'clock news and see how many rapes, murders, kidnappings, and the like are going on in your neighborhood, and see if you still maintain that John Edwards is the worst guy on the face of the planet. Trust me, he's not.

On top of that, we might start being real about ourselves, and seeing that most of the secrets we keep aren't worth all the effort we go to in order to keep them. Why? To avoid public shame, or personal humiliation, or to avoid judgment by a group of people who almost all have secrets as shocking as yours? We might decide it's not worth putting someone down or ostracizing them because we've learned they like to have a drink at 3 PM, have a shoplifting habit, cheat on their spouse, dress in trashy lingerie, grow pot in their closet, or have a secret webcam site on the Internet.

I personally don't care if Bill Clinton inhaled, if Hillary is a lesbian, if Tiger can't keep it in his pants, if half of baseball's Hall Of Fame was on steroids, if my local politician likes to pick up strangers in airport bathrooms or S & M clubs, if Angelina is a crazy homewrecker, if Britney is bipolar, or if half of the contestants on my favourite reality show have rap sheets and naked photos out there. I don't care because I don't know these people, and also because I think there are better ways to make judgments on others than looking at how much "scandal" lurks in their lives. I'm not saying I'm perfectly open-minded, that I never judge, but in the grand scheme of things...who really gives a crap?

The world just might be a better place if we all realised how much energy we put into condemning other people, and how that could be re-directed and used positively.

I'd vote for a guy with three wives. I wouldn't vote for the guy who was told to be so ashamed of his three wives that he had to put so much time and energy into hiding and denying some of the most important and meaningful aspects of his life. But, that's on our society. Society tells us it's OK to tolerate just about anything shocking or taboo or unconventional, as long as it's kept sufficiently hidden. Our society encourages us all to value the outward appearance kept up by the second guy, and not the candour of the first...and when the second guy's secrets are unearthed, he's often crucified by the media, and by the public.

When did our priorities get so amazingly screwed up?

Nope, this isn't a rant about some girl I can't stand, and there's no drama here. It's just a book review. :)

It's taken me three weeks--two weeks longer than expected--but I finally managed to finish reading a book that's been on my to-read list for literally years, Elizabeth Wurtzel's feminist manifesto "Bitch".

For those of you who aren't familiar, Elizabeth Wurtzel is an author I quite like. Despite the fact that she's been a prolific writer, most notably for the New York Times, she's most well-known for her autobiographical "Prozac Nation", which kind of reached cult-status amongst disenchanted and disenfranchised Gen X-ers in the 1990's (it was made into a movie starring the permanently suicidal-looking Christina Ricci).

"Prozac Nation" is really quite a good book, though for every good review it got, it received three negative ones asking why a 30-year-old nobody had ever heard of would take it upon herself to write an autobiography, much less one that is literally a catalogue of how hard it was to be depressed before Prozac came around, much less before we lived in an era when every third person was on it. This, of course, was before everyone plugged in and started a blog and got themselves on reality TV, and we all came to think of ourselves as the most interesting people in the world. Back then, Wurtzel's presumption that anyone cared was a big deal. But, of course, tons of people did care.

I remember loving "Prozac Nation" at 20; it was easy for me to identify with her, even though I wasn't manic depressive, or on Prozac. It made me feel free to accept all the other broken, in-need-of-therapy aspects of myself, as if everyone was fucked-up and this was status quo in the world. A decade later, I can see the self-indulgence; while Wurtzel had a particularly difficult path to recovery, much of it was of her own design, a creative person carrying a big sign that said "Pay attention to me!". I can also see the generation gap a bit more reading the more intellectually-minded "Bitch"; Wurtzel is 12 years older than I am, and it turns out that Gen X-ers and Gen Y-ers see things a little differently.

I knew going into it that "Bitch" was going to be...well, a bitch, to tackle. Wurtzel admits she'd written the book between alternating fits of mania and severe depression, and the book reads this way. Some chapters are brilliantly insightful and full of clarity, but seem to just go on and on and on. (I'd recommend reading the book, but just skip the 60 pages on Delilah as relates to feminism. I think it took me 4 days to get through that section.) Others are interesting, but interspersed with the author's own views---the chapter on tragically creative and iconic women is a great read, if it weren't almost pro-suicide.

The best part of the book is the chapter that crucifies Hillary Clinton as feminist model. Wurtzel does a good job, making her case that a woman leaving behind an ambition-filled path in the Northeast to live in Arkansas with a man, supporting his career, having children, and standing by his indiscretions is not the path most would equate with "independent career woman". However, after making her case, she mentions that Hillary might have been something in her own right; Supreme Court justice, or attorney general, or maybe even with the state department---but, alas, that opportunity had passed Ms. Clinton by.

I'm hoping Hillary has a copy of this book in her bookcase in the Secretary Of State's office.

All that aside, much of the book really is very thought-provoking,if controversial. The very girl-power-and-all-that Wurtzel defends the idea that abused women don't leave because they're attracted and enamoured by the abuse cycle, that most people romanticise rape fantasies and domestic violence, that Elizabeth Dole is more feminist-oriented than Hillary Clinton, and that Courtney Love is smart. Even more surprising is how persuasive some of her bizarre perspectives are. This is a book that is less in defense of women than in explanation of.

I'm glad I read "Bitch", and I'm planning to pass it on to the people I know who'd really enjoy the intellectual stimulation and fodder for argument it provides. It also taught me that depressed people may be more creatively inclined, but they also need more editors. This is a 300 page book that should have been a 60-page collection of essays, and the critics may have taken Elizabeth Wurtzel a bit more seriously.

I'm way behind on my 100-book-a-year reading goal, and as a result, I have 6 books stacked up and waiting in the "to-read" pile. I blame this book. Oh, and Blockbuster.

Last week ended up being a decidedly lost week. I'm not sure why, but I was hit pretty hard by a serious case of the blues; you know, the kind where it seems everything is wrong and your life completely sucks, and you have no energy to do anything, and wish you could just curl up in bed until the world is a nicer place to be?

Those weeks are not fun, and they make me more sympathetic to my many,many friends who suffer with clinical depression. Fortunately for me, I've always been the resilient sort of bad-mood person; the negative energy sticks around for a day or two, sometimes just even a few hours. I cry, I throw things, I curl up in the bed and sleep...but the source of the gloom usually cures itself, or the side effects seem much more manageable, and I'm back to my usual self.

But this past week, no matter what I did, nothing could cheer me up. It was oddly unexpected, because ever since leaving for the Northeast over December holidays, I'd been filled with energy and in a generally positive mood. January inspired a sort of uber-productiveness that left me feeling better about myself and my life; you know, that I was actually *doing* something with my time and talents other than watching life go by in a haze of boredom. I was following through on my resolutions for the new year; to eat better, to spend time doing creative things, to try to find a source of income that is stable but doesn't drive me insane. All in all, I was feeling better about life and working towards improvement of it, and then, a giant rain cloud fell on me.

All of the things that went wrong were relatively minor; my mouse broke, leaving me computer-less for two days, my dog spilled a cup of fruit punch everywhere, including on my laptop,my new chair, and new comforter. All my attempts at freelance writing were summarily rejected, without a bit of feedback. I wasn't sleeping well, and going back to having nightmares and chasing dreams. The hard-to-book venue at which I'd planned my weekend event was giving me grief. The Guy I Am Currently Dating was not so interested in chatting about my thoughts and feelings because he seemed rather down and frustrated about personality conflicts in his Meetup group that seemed to derail all of his positive efforts and the group's accomplishments. None of these things seem large enough to set off an entire week of crying at a moment's notice and sleeping 10 hours a night and generally feeling exhausted by life, but somehow, they were.

Then, on Thursday, I realised I physically didn't feel well...and by the end of my event on Friday night, I decided to go home early because I was feeling so out of sorts. By Saturday, at a friend's wedding reception, both I and The Guy I Am Currently Dating were feeling like crap, and how we managed to make it through the day, I have no idea. Turns out, I was sad and exhausted last week not because life was suddenly so awful, but because I was fighting some evil germ, and didn't have any energy left over for inconvenient things like feelings, and stuff randomly breaking/going wrong.

Today, after a full 11 hours of sleep (I usually sleep about 6 hours a night, so all this sleep is crazy to me!), I felt a little better, and was able to be cheerful and productive.

Really? All this angst and sadness for an entire week because I was catching a COLD? It's actually kind of funny, in retrospect, but it certainly wasn't at the time. Not to mention, I feel way behind on EVERYTHING....for someone who feels like they don't actually do anything because they don't actually make decent money at most of the things they do, I actually do quite a bit. Between all my freelancing projects, I work 40-50 hours a week, which is a full-time job for most people. (Sadly, I think I'd make more money and work less hours waiting tables or mixing drinks. Sigh.). I run a pretty large and active Meetup, and help out with a few others. I play trivia once, sometimes twice a week. I have a dog, a wonderful boyfriend, and an extended network of friends...all of which I love, but require time and energy to keep up with. I have plenty of hobbies and interests. Turns out, when I give it some thought, I do a number of things. It's just that they don't necessarily seem significant because they are not financially rewarding...but in other respects, all of the various things I spend my time on are very significant to me, and I think I'd be sad to not have the time or energy available to devote to them.

Maybe I'm too lazy or self-centred for capitalism, or perhaps I'm just a product of my slacker generation... but I wish there were a way I could do all the things I love, keep up with all those important to me, and still feel I was doing something rewarding/productive on the career front. I don't want to have to give up things that matter to me or make me feel more fulfilled as a person in order to not have to be concerned with money, but, the lack of money has more detrimental effects on the quality of life than the lack of personal fulfillment.

How can you do what you love, be financially secure, and still have time for friends, family, and relationships? Does anyone else out there have it figured out, or are most people just as lost and unfulfilled in one respect or another as I am?

Well, my blog has certainly been missing in action for a little while!! Like many of you, I spent the holidays travelling around to see family and friends, so internet time ended up being fairly limited. After two weeks of vacation, gaining five pounds from cookies, candy, and Starbucks, and hearing "There's No Place Like Home For The Holidays" 75,000 times, I am back in Atlanta and ready to start the new year.

The New Year, and in this case, the new decade, always means setting new goals. Every year, I make some resolutions, like just about everyone in America, only to find the willpower to work on them doesn't last nearly as long as I need it to in order to actually accomplish anything. Nevertheless, here are the things I'd like to work on...and thinking about them, it surprised me that there are only a few. Perhaps that means I'm much happier in aspects of my life than I ever really think I am. Despite the obstacles in my life I sometimes see as huge and unconquerable, I realise that I really am a lucky person who has things to be thankful for. I have a great network of friends to lean on, to do things with, and to be a part of my world... and family that's supportive (from a distance) of most things I might want to do in my life. I've been dating a great guy for a year and a half, and while I'm not always sure where that relationship is heading, it's a hugely important part of feeling happy and secure in my life. I have a roommate who is a friend, even if we don't always see eye to eye, and genuinely cares about me...and a dog who is always there with hugs and love and company. I have a roof over my head, even if it isn't where I ideally want to call home, and interesting things to do, most of the time. I have interests and talents and hobbies, even if I don't always have the time and energy for them. There are a lot of great things in my life. Of course, there are also some not-so-great ones, so here's what I'd like to fix.:

1)Lose weight: Like many,many Americans, I'm not always happy what I see when I look in the mirror. There's a reason this is the top New Year's resolution in the U.S., almost every year: Something that seems pretty simple (exercise, control stress, and don't eat crap.) is in reality, extremely difficult. It all comes down to self-discipline (well, for most of us, anyway), whether you want to lose 5 pounds or 50. Part of the reason this is such an issue for me is not just vanity; I know that while I'm not as skinny as I'd like to be, I'm not a cow, either...but the fact that I don't seem to have the self-discipline to conquer this particular goal. Unlike other things in my life, which may be influenced by outside forces, this is one thing I can't blame on anyone but me. (though I do blame Moe's, Chick-Fil-A, and Reese's a little bit.) I really like junk food, I hate to exercise, and come from a gene pool that's full of generations of women who are short and round. I don't want to be short and round. But I also don't want to have to give up cheesy bread. It's a huge dilemma.

2)Take control of my financial situation: Yes, I know, this is another very popular one. For me, it might have a number of different sub-categories: "Work extra-hard to pay the bills and clear up debt", "Find a job that might lead to an actual career", "Figure out what I want to be when I grow up", "Find a way to turn my talents into something that makes money"...but thinking about all those different things leaves me feeling kind of defeated and as if it's all so impossible. So for now, I'm simply going to focus on the short term goals; paying the bills, saving money to move into a new place, etc. I'm fortunate in that, unlike many of my friends, I'm not burdened with much debt. Unfortunately, I'm also not burdened with a steady income source, and I'm no closer to figuring out what I might actually enjoy doing in the world, other than acting, blogging, throwing parties, reading novels, watching reality TV, and playing trivia...none of which pay terribly well!

3)Bring more art and culture into my life: One of the things I miss about my bohemian artist days is that nothing seemed more important than creative things and creative people. Life was filled with shows and rehearsals, meeting interesting artists, going to museums and perfomances and indie films, seeing unsigned bands in basement bars. Between living in Atlanta, where making money and spending money and eating out at the newest restaurants and dancing at the hot new clubs are the favourite past-times of most, and trying to become more stable and focused on practical things, I haven't made that much time for the things I really love. I really love art, music, performance, books, in many different forms, both creating and appreciating what others do. I feel sad that I've made less of a place for it in my life than I should.

4)Focus on me: For most of my life, I've had a tendency to focus on other people, on my friendships and relationships, on pleasing others, on being liked. And, it's always consequently been very hard for me to accept when I often displease others, and find out I am NOT liked, often just on the basis of being authentically me. I'm the girl who's lost jobs because the upsetting fight with her boyfriend was more important than showing up to work, and stayed in bed for a week when the entire world hated her. I think it's time to work on shifting that focus and that energy to me, to improving my life. Relationships and family and friendships and one's social circle are important, and should be focused on...but not to the exclusion of what you want, what makes you happy. It may be selfish, but I'm going to spend more time with me this year.

5)Take time to appreciate the small things: I admittedly fail miserably at this, and when I was home for the holidays, spending time with my mother taught me I come by it naturally. 10 small, positive things that happened during my day can easily be overshadowed by one negative things. 10 nice things that others said or did can be forgotten in the face of one harsh criticism or rude action. It's easy for me to think things are only enjoyable if they're big, loud, fancy, or on a grandiose scale. I'm not sure why I'm wired this way, but I've always been. And yet, various things in my life have taught me that when everything is taken away, it's the small things that matter most, that you miss the most. This year, I'm going to remind myself that small pleasures and enjoyable moments in life are worth being happy about, even if there might be a big problem or stress-causing thing looming in the background.

Oh, and I'm also going to do the 100-book challenge, which I do every year...and most years, I complete. I currently have a stack of 9 books to be read, a mixture of fiction, intellectually challenging non-fiction, and those trashy chick lit books I love even if I suspect I lose IQ points every time I read them. I'm going to make an effort to check some of the un-read classics off of the "Best Books Of All-Time" list, which I'll post in a later post.

So, what about you? What are your New Year's resolutions, or goals for 2010?

A good way to cure silly "depressed" feelings is to just have something happen that scares the hell out of you.

This morning, around 5 AM, I woke up from a dream by a loud scary noise. At first, I thought I dreamed it; but, no, there was a shooting in front of my apartment building.

Police were here for nearly 5 hours, and we're not really sure what happened, only that someone was killed.

For the past few weeks, the police have repeatedly been called out to one of our neighbours' apartments. One night, we heard an altercation between two men that ended with a car driving off and a noise that I really believed was a gunshot...even though when we looked outside, there was nothing askew, or any evidence there might have been a gunshot.

Today, though...definitely gunshots. I'm kind of freaked out...I've lived in 5 major cities in my life, and this is the first time I've actually witnessed/been this close to gunfire before. It was really,really scary.

All I can say is that I should trust my intuition...I said almost immediately upon moving in here that this is the only place I've ever lived that I didn't feel safe in, despite it being in the suburbs.

I'd say I should live in a safer part of the city, but I don't know where that is. Last night, there was a shooting at a Midtown club, less than two blocks from the condo I lived in for years. A week ago, there was another shooting in that neighbourhood, which is considered "upscale", if urban. Even though I lived near GA Tech for a few years, in both nice and not-so-nice places, it always felt pretty safe. Now, there's been literally dozens of break-ins, robberies at gunpoint, and most recently, a knife attack..all on students. Every time I turn on the news, there are 5 stories about shootings, or bodies being discovered. I don't know what's happening in the city, but it's turning into NY, without the advantages.

When I first moved here, I remember commenting that nothing ever happened, that the news lacked all the drama I was used to in other cities. I don't feel nearly as safe here anymore.

For the past few weeks...well, since Thanksgiving, really...I've been battling with myself. I've been feeling very negative, very down in the dumps, and oddly, I'm not even sure why. Even when I'm not feeling sad or angry or another negative emotion, it's as if my normal spark for life has simply gone away. The things I normally love don't excite me as much anymore. Everything is just sort of blah, and boring, and nothing makes me happy. I hate it.

I suppose it could be a lot of things. It could be that I have a birthday coming up soon, and I generally feel as if my youth is over, and rather than accomplish anything with the gifts I once had, I chose to do absolutely nothing and make my life as difficult as possible. Now I have endless obstacle after obstacle, and don't feel as if I've done anything in my life. If I were not here tomorrow, very few people would take notice, much less miss me. Some would celebrate.
My life is nothing like I imagined it might be a decade ago, and that in itself is depressing enough.

It could be that I feel like everyone in my life is moving on, and leaving me behind. I have so many friends that are "conditional"; ones who call me whenever nothing else is going on, but don't contact me for weeks, months, when their life is good; ones who'd love to see me when I pass through town, but don't offer me a place to stay, or follow through on their offers; ones whom I thought were sincere, for-better-or-worse friends, but cut me out of their lives completely when they fall in love. I know this is how the world works, but it always wounds me somewhere deep inside. I am not like this. I don't offer my friendship to everyone, and I'm not terribly trusting of others, but when I finally do consider someone a friend, it is not temporary or conditional. Fair-weather friendships are not a concept I understand all that well.

And even those friends in my life who do a great job of keeping in touch and being there...well, it seems everyone's lives are changing now, at least those who are close to my age. Perhaps it's just the life transition that's supposed to be happening at a certain point in life...everyone pairs up, gets engaged, has babies, moves to the suburbs...and those who don't, don't because they are focused on their careers, or still in an academic/intellectual world. I am happy for everyone in all their growing and transitioning and newfound happiness. But now, more than ever, I feel acutely that I simply don't belong...anywhere. I don't want to get married, have children, live in the suburbs. I don't want to sell my soul to corporate America or be afraid to live my life on my terms because I could get fired, or make enemies, or ruffle feathers. I don't want to be a starving artist, which at my age, largely means a crowd of undiscovered adults lamenting not being able to compete with fresh-faced 18 year olds, most of whom smoke too much pot and live in crappy apartments while working at Starbucks. I actually have absolutely no clue *what* I want to do, but I see what everyone else is doing, and, well...it's not that. On top of it, my financial situation and other personal issues limit my choices, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I feel trapped, and not only am I frustrated by feeling trapped, I am frustrated by the knowledge that I am the man in Plato's cave. If I were to find the obstacles removed, I'd feel trapped by not having any direction, any idea which way to go.

And so I do nothing, and go nowhere. It should not be the case that a person feels their life has dead-ended at 30. It's just sad; I've become two things that my personality does not quietly accept being: lost and boring. I don't know which way to go in life, but I know the not choosing, or the inability to choose, is likely behind my feelings of depression. I am happiest when I am *living* life, not simply observing or contemplating it. For whatever reason, I've become so much more guarded in my life, so much more attached to routine, so much more afraid of failure. I seek security in whatever little fragments I can find, but strangely enough, it never seems to bring me happiness. It used to be that for me, happiness was defined as the absence of chaos: if I wasn't in the middle of an emotionally destructive relationship, or so behind on my rent that I might get evicted, or in the middle of some sort of personal drama or scandal, I could feel happy. I *treasured* those few days of happiness, the way some people look forward to a weekend, knowing they'll have days and days of drudgery after that. Now life is more normal, less dramatic, less self-destructive...but happiness isn't what it used to be. Happiness is not simply the absence of chaos anymore, as it has been for likely most of my adolescent and adult life. Now it is this thing I have to re-define for myself, and I am not sure I know how. I have this friend, an artist who is manic depressive, and often chooses not to take his medication because feeling "balanced" is, to him, like feeling numb. He misses the highs and lows, and doesn't know how to be himself, how to love life, without the craziness. Perhaps I am a little like that..only in my case, it is not medication that's been causing the changes, but adulthood, responsibility, even a little bit of security. Sometimes, when you begin to find the things that have always been lacking in your life, you don't always know how to feel like yourself. You don't immediately feel safe and happy and whole in the way you'd imagine. Letting go of the damaged pieces and moving on in life is good...but nobody ever lets you know that confronting them is more challenging than you might think, and leaving them behind leaves a sort of emptiness. I suppose it's like learning to redefine yourself as something other than your jagged, broken pieces.

I rather expected that I'd go through some sort of angst over getting older, or maybe I didn't. I guess I'd always thought that age is a state of mind, and you don't have to change just because you're chronologically entering a different life phase, or because everyone else is. I suppose I expected that it might not affect me; after all, I'm not the type to lie in bed crying because I'm 30 and not married yet, and I don't have anything resembling a biological clock (if I do, it's certainly not ticking.) For most of my 20's, I didn't feel any different as the years passed. But what I didn't expect was that at some point, I'd start to feel differently about myself, about the world, about my life. I didn't expect that I'd want different things, or suddenly feel like time was running out and it was more important for me to find out what things I *do* want. But, over the course of the past two years, that's been what's happened. It was likely a slow, gradual change...but it seems that over the past few months, it's hit me all at once.

And it isn't comforting, this shifting of perspective, even though I see certain things with different eyes, maybe even more clarity. It's scary and isolating and confusing. It isn't that I don't know who I am anymore; it's that I know so much *more* about who I am, and who I am not, and a result of that is needing to come to terms with myself, my choices, my mistakes, the things I missed out on. It's a much more difficult period in my life than I ever would have imagined...and I wonder if anyone else ever feels the same way. If they do, nobody ever talks about it. Everyone I know seems so certain, so confident about all their huge life changes. But, on some deep-down kind of level, I'm really scared by all the uncertainty.

I'd like some of my old recklessness, spontaneity, and impulsiveness back, sometimes. I think it might be way better than simply being scared.

I seem to have gotten myself on a nocturnal schedule once again. I blame this largely on the fact that I've been sick with the World's Most Stubborn Cold for the past two weeks. No matter what I do, it just doesn't seem to want to go away and leave me alone. Of course, one of the side effects is that I've not been getting as much sleep as I need on a regular basis, which probably contributes to the germs hanging around. I am not a very good sleeper to begin with...on a good day, I sleep 5.5-6 hours, if I am not waking up or disturbed by bad dreams. I toss and turn, I talk in my sleep, I have vivid dreams that are very similar to watching a movie inside my mind, I'm disturbed by every little noise, and if I wake up in the middle of the night, it can take me forever to go back to sleep. Throughout my life, I've suffered from periods of almost manic insomnia (there were stretches of college where I only slept once every 3-4 days and was the most energetic person around) and very difficult, vivid nightmares. I've been on prescription medication to help me get normal sleep, only to learn that the side effects are way worse than not being able to go to sleep. Thankfully, as I've gotten older, sleep has become more friendly to me, and while I still stay up far later and sleep less than most people I know, on some days, I actually look forward to it. Benadryl, which is non-addictive and knocks me out even on half the adult dose, is largely responsible for me learning to let zzzzzzz's into my life.

However, sleeping while sick is a lost cause. It doesn't matter how much medicine I take or how tired I am, if I have to cough or my nose is clogged, I'm up. Last night was the first time I slept a night through without waking up...and I felt so good about it, instead of staying up when the alarm woke me at 9:30, I laid back in the bed, and dozed off again. Next time I looked, it was 1 PM!

So, 3:30 AM, and I'm up blogging. As any of you who know me are aware (and if you're reading this, I can assume you know me fairly well), for a long time, I've maintained that I have psychic dreams. Not all my dreams are of that variety, mind you; I often have dreams about things in the past, or nonsensical dreams combining elements of my life...but, then, there are the psychic dreams. They always have a different feel to them. As a teenager, I dreamt about a car crashing into the side of a building on a particular street near my school. Two hours later, at school, there was an announcement that classmates were in the hospital because their car hit a tree, at nearly the same location of my dream. I've dreamt about an earthquake, got up, had breakfast, and switched on the news to see a huge earthquake in California as breaking news. I had recurring dreams about a guy I was living with, seeing him in the future with a specific woman...one I'd never met, or seen before, but who was always the same in the dreams. Two years later, after we broke up, he e-mailed me to tell me it was the strangest thing, but his new girlfriend looked exactly like the woman I'd described. The list goes on and on. Most recently, I had a dream that my old roommate, who was two months pregnant at the time, came to visit me with her one year old daughter. I saw the little girl in amazing detail; I could draw a sketch of this non-existent child. Two weeks ago, the tests confirmed they were having a girl.

I share this because a few nights ago, I had a dream that disturbed me. I was looking through a bunch of mail in an apartment that is not where I live now, nor where I've ever lived...and I apparently was returning from a trip or something, because there was a lot of it. I saw a flyer with a photo on it, saying that this person had been shot and they were looking for her attacker. I remember being shocked, and saying to a friend who was in the room with me, that I knew that woman. I wondered if she'd survived, so I went to my computer, and looked up her name on a social networking site. I saw a message telling me her blog had been removed because of her attack, and that she'd been in the hospital, but didn't make it. I remember reading very clearly that this happened in December, 2009.

What was so frightening about the dream is that it was about a real person..even though the photograph was different, the name was a person I know in my real life. The thing that was even more odd was that I saw her name pop up as being online that next morning, on my GChat, and I've not seen her there in ages. I was so relieved to see her green dot pop up that day, but the whole thing left me feeling very freaked out.

On one level, I know there's no such thing as "psychic dreams". Most dreams are expressions of a person's subconscious, or reflections of intuitive observations. I tend to be an especially introspective,perceptive, intuitive person..so it seems natural that my dreams would often be very real and detailed. On the other hand, I've so often had dreams about things that had not yet happened, but later did, it's hard to ignore.

I'm pretty sure it's not a psychic dream of any sort, and I certainly will never mention it to the person it was about....but the vivid real-ness of this future-dated dream left me feeling very shaken all day.

My mother would tell me to stop drinking Coke before bedtime.

And, on that note, I'm off to a hopefully-empty Dreamland!! *laughs*

This weekend, with no pre-planned activities or mandatory fun on the schedule, The Guy I Am Currently Dating and I ended up at the cheap movie theatre again. I seem to have phases where I'll see every movie in the cheap movie theatre, followed by not wanting to go to the movies for three months. (for those who don't know, in ATL, we have one movie theatre that shows second-run films for $1.25, or 75 cents on Tuesdays. It is a fun and inexpensive night out.) Last weekend, we saw "The Invention Of Lying", which was a cute and funny movie. It was actually fairly witty in the parallels it drew to how things like religion developed (though I could see it offending some people because of that.), and Jennifer Garner managed to be the least annoying version of herself possible by playing a character that was largely un-likeable through much of the film. Ricky Gervaise is quite funny, in a somewhat self-deprecating, witty fashion.

This weekend, we saw "Julie And Julia", which I wouldn't have recommended enough for people to go see in the theatres, but is worth a DVD rental. Meryl Streep, as always, is fabulous and believable as a frumpy-but-spirited Julia Child, and I almost always enjoy Amy Adams, who is very likeable and endearing. It was interesting to me, as someone who has been blogging for a long, long time, that the story was based upon a real-life blogger who took up the challenge of spending a year working through Julia Child's "The Art Of French Cooking", and found a writing career as a result. Blogging has now become so mainstream, such a part of our culture that it can open all sorts of doors for people, and I think that's amazing. I remember back in 1999 trying to explain to someone about this new idea called "Blogger", and the blank looks I got back in response.

I haven't been to see "New Moon" yet, which of course I want to, but I think movies are generally more fun when not packed with 16-year-olds. Also, I've heard it's a good film, but not exceptional, which is how I felt about the first Twilight film...so I am willing to wait. I'd also like to see "The Blind Side", which has gotten wonderful reviews, and looks like a really inspirational story.

I've checked out a few new restaurants in the area lately, too (another weekend hobby, in addition to movies!:P) . A few weeks ago I hosted a small dinner at a new restaurant called Park's Edge, in Inman Park. It has a cute ambiance, almost a loft-like space, that reminds me of New York, and there is private, non-valet parking, which is a rare gem ITP nowadays. The food is a bit on the expensive side for the portion size, and they don't have many options for vegetarians; however, everything my table ordered got rave reviews, and the cocktails were *wonderful*. One of my dining companions even made reservations to go back the next day for brunch. If you're in the Atlanta area, I'd strongly recommend checking it out.

One weekend in November, it occurred to me that The Guy I Am Currently Dating and I had again gotten into that routine where we were either busy doing things or so happy to have time to not do anything, that we hadn't had the opportunity to do anything "romantic" in a while. I'm a pretty traditional girl that way, I guess; I like to go to nice, intimate restaurants with candlelight and flowers, or piano bars or jazz clubs, as much as I like to go out to a club, or stay in and watch a movie. Romantic stuff is important, and I think one of the reasons I've always been great at dating but bad at "relationships" is that, after a certain amount of time, "relationships" tend to leave that romantic stuff behind, unless you work at making a point to do those things.

Anyhow, we ended up at Altobeli's, an old-fashioned Italian restaurant with a piano bar. The owner had contacted me almost a year ago about getting my Meetup group in for an event, but it took me that long to check out the place, as it's fairly out of the way in Alpharetta. I can't say enough about how I loved this place; the atmosphere is both romantic and has that old-fashioned Italian family feeling. The singers and the pianist were all quite good, performing mostly jazz and cabaret standards. The food was amazing, the martinis were well mixed, and the portions were large enough for two meals (the food, that is,not the martinis.) It is not the place to bring a large group, but a romantic night out, a special family gathering, or a small dinner party would definitely be at home here.

Thanksgiving was pretty much a non-event for me...my roommate ended up going out of town, and my former roommate, with whom I've celebrated Turkey Day the past few years, was on vacation with her fiancee and left her 2 dogs with me for the weekend. I figured this would not be an issue, as I'd lived with one of the dogs for almost 2 years, and the other came with a cage. She was also going to be watching Trixie so I could travel home for Christmas and not need to put her in the PetSmart Pet Hotel...so it seemed like a fair deal.

Unfortunately,the second dog is an extremely hyper puppy...a lab/pit bull mix who does a lot of jumping, and at 80-85 pounds, that kind of hurts. Within 24 hours of being here, he'd drawn the attention of angry neighbours who threatened to call the cops, he went on the carpet repeatedly, and when left alone for an hour so I could do some work, he ate my couch. Literally. I have a bag of pieces that used to be part of the couch, and now are not. Somehow during the entire experience, I caught a cold, so I'm feeling pretty run-down and didn't get even half as much work done as I wanted to, and until last night, slept maybe 12 hours in 4 days.

Thanksgiving was not one of the best holidays ever,but at least I was too tired and aggravated to notice that nobody else was here. I killed my diet this weekend...which I'd been doing pretty well on for a week or so...by eating at Cracker Barrel and having chocolate cheesecake. I guess that was my version of Thanksgiving dinner, only not on Thanksgiving. I was also reminded about something I know about myself, but it's good to check on now and again,in case I change my mind: I never want to live in a house with puppies or children. I'm not cut out for the staying at home and taking care of things routine. I don't have the patience, or the energy, and I end up wanting to leave the house and never come back. *laughs* I have no idea how other people do it, chasing after things that always want and need things from you, all day long. I'd spend a lot of time hiding in the closet.

Time to stop blogging, and get back to work!! If I actually get anything accomplished in the next two days, I'm going to take time out and watch "Grey Gardens", which is waiting for me on the DVR. :)

I watched an interesting interview with Barbara Walters and Sarah Palin this evening.

As much as I don't like Sarah Palin, her views, her attitudes, her ideas, or some of her choices, I do sort of admire the fact that at least she realises she was being used by the McCain camp, and touted as a strong female voice of America while at the same time being told to shut up, play the part, and tow the party line. At least she realises she was turned into a punchline, not taken seriously by anyone, and not defended even by her own people.

Interestingly enough, now that she's not campaigning, her "folksy" accent and figures of speech that made her sound dumb rather than unpretentious seem to have decreased by about 80%. Also, when she's speaking naturally and not attempting to make a good impression in an interview, she doesn't stutter, give nonsensical answers, or appear stupid. I don't think she's sincere when I see her in interviews, or if she is, it's difficult to tell when she's being honest and when she's bullshitting and defending hereself...but it's good to see that she is an intelligent and spirited person of some substance, even if not a person I'd ever agree with or want to represent my country, or my voice as a young, independent female. It's almost as if when she isn't playing a role or pushing an agenda, her IQ goes up 30 points (even though she still did use the phrase "backasswards" in an interview with Barbara Walters. *laughs*)

I'd actually be interested to read her book; however, I don't want to give her any money. Maybe I'll find a Republican friend or relative who has it floating around.

I still think the Democrats should add Tina Fey to the 2012 ticket. You know, before the world ends and everything. ;)

Though this is fairly old news, for those who don't know, last Friday, my apartment building caught on fire. NO, it was not my apartment on fire, and NO, I am not the one who started the fire (even though I'm no Martha Stewart, I've never burned down the kitchen.) But, nevertheless, it was a pretty scary experience.

I was really pretty oblivious to the entire thing. I'd been working on the computer, and even though I knew I needed to shower and get dressed for Friday evening out, I was pretty lazy and unmotivated...so at 5 PM, when I heard sirens, I didn't pay much attention. I hear a LOT of sirens around here.

On my way to the shower, I got curious, and looked out of my bedroom window...and lo and behold, there were 3 fire trucks and a lot of people standing out there. I was a little alarmed, and a little curious, so I opened the front door. BOOOOM, a big cloud of awful-smelling black smoke. Me not being the most logical person ever, I stood out in the smoke long enough to yell down to the firemen and ask if we should leave the apartment (a more practical person would have just grabbed some important stuff and stood outside with everyone else, but it did occur to me that there might be danger in going down the stairs. ). One of them seemed to nonchalantly indicate no, don't worry about it, so I went back in the apartment. There was no smoke inside the apartment, which was kind of amazing to me considering the amount *outside*.

5 minutes later, while I am texting/Facebooking/emailing people about the fire, a firefighter comes to the door, complete in fire garb and mask, telling me to grab my dog because we need to evacuate. I grabbed my phone, my sweatshirt, and Trixie (for future reference, money/wallet/purse is an important item to grab in case of potential emergency.). By that time, the smoke was twice as bad, and Trixie refused to go down the stairs because it required walking through the smoke. I had to drag my 75-80 lb. dog down a flight of stairs in a cloud of black smoke, and all in all, that was pretty scary.

It turned out to be OK; one of the apartments on the first floor had a kitchen fire. What alarmed me was that due to the terrible maintenance of my ghetto apartment complex, we don't have fire alarms in our bedrooms (we're supposed to), the one in the hallway does not work, and there's one fire extinguisher for the entire building. If I were alone in my apartment and had a kitchen fire, I'd have to leave the fire, walk down a flight of stairs to retrieve the extinguisher, get it out of the box, and go back to an undoubtedly much larger fire. I'm sure the time it took to get the hallway extinguisher contributed to how quickly their little kitchen fire was able to spread and evacuate a few buildings.

During my lifetime, I've survived 3 major surgeries, including a burst appendix. I've been through 3 serious car accidents that either killed or injured other people with barely a scratch, I've dislocated my knee, been a victim of violent crime, broken toes and fingers and been stitched, stapled, and clamped back together on various occasions. All of these things have resulted in a few irrational phobias; among them, the fact that I don't know how to drive a car, and also, that for the past 15 years, I've had a firm belief that I would not make it past 30. I've joked about surviving some of my reckless and wild choices in life, only to be mowed down by a Mack Truck at 30. Now that the clock is sort of running out on that, the irrational fear in the back of my mind has gotten a little louder.

So, as you can imagine, when I opened the door to see my building on fire, my initial thought was, "Oh my God, that fear was absolutely true!". I really felt like I was inside, minding my own business, and still, the Mack Truck knew where to find me.

I'd like to say I've changed my attitude a lot in the past few years, and I like to think I'm a survivor of some things rather than an intended victim. Rather than seeing the various things that have occurred in my life as a sign that someone somewhere is out to get me, I'd like to think that maybe there's a guardian angel on my shoulder that's helped me get through some dangerous situations in one piece. But, still, sometimes it scares the hell out of me...and the "curse" (which was initially self-imposed) of not living past 30 is one of those things I hope does not come true because years of me saying this pushed it into my reality. Back then, there were times I didn't much care if I made it past 30, or not. Now I do care, and it scares me that I may have created a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I might want to spend the next few months in a bubble, just in case.

I kind of miss my blogging days, sometimes.

It's odd..in the past near-decade, I've gone from sharing my life with strangers back when "blog" was still a relatively phenomenon to being stopped on the subway by someone who recognised me *from* my blog to realising that sharing your life with everyone you know can have some dramatic consequences to accepting that emotional exhibitionism might not be the healthiest habit, and a person such as myself might be better off not putting too much out there on a blog, or trying to appear on reality TV. Sometimes, you find yourself more exposed than you'd like to be.

But I still have difficulty writing in my journal on a regular basis, knowing it's for "just me". Yes, there's a freedom in that, knowing you can write what you really think and feel, you can talk about others, you can say the things that you'd *never* say aloud, not even to your best friend. But it's also uninspiring, in a way, knowing I will not get feedback or dialogue or empathy or criticism. Sometimes, when I write in my paper journals, I find myself wondering if I am, in fact, writing for an invisible audience. Maybe someday, when I am long gone, someone will be reading my thoughts, my life...but knowing that inhibits me more than inspires, I'm afraid.

At one point last month, I even considered reviving Uninhibited, spent some time looking into web hosting and Word Press and mentally designing new layouts. I know it's something I won't ever do again; after incidents with stalkers, haters, people I thought were friends printing out my journals to use against me, angry friends who disliked being referenced and boyfriends who don't want to be recurring characters in Alayna's blogosphere, I know the negatives outweigh the positives. But as a creative outlet, I do miss it. I often find myself writing stories to share, in blog form, only to realise the handful of close friends who have access to this blog already *know* the stories. :)

Most of my old friends from the good ole' blogging days have also moved on; everyone's Twittering and YouTubing and Facebooking too much to maintain personal weblogs of any depth, or they're too busy, or too afraid the wrong person will one day find what they've written. But for me, I miss the insight into other people that the medium offers. I've made some amazing friends through the blog-world, and I think it's because people allow themselves to be more open, more vulnerable. In life, that's scary...but it is also real, and endearing.

I'm not sure what this blog is about, really; perhaps just thoughts on an idle observation. I don't love Twitter or MySpace or maybe even Facebook as much as I love blogging, even though nowadays, I do those things far more.

If someone asked me what my ideal job were, one of the things on the list would have to be writing a daily blog or newspaper column. I'd probably have some issues with staying on topic and the space parameters, but, regardless, it would be awesome to get paid to share your thoughts with the world.

If Khloe Kardashian can have a radio show, anything is possible.....;)

OK, I admit it. In addition to my really bad TV addiction, the truth is, I also like some really *bad* TV. It's one thing to confess that you like Grey's Anatomy, Project Runway, and Survivor...and entirely another thing when you've seen every episode of Bravo's "The Real Housewives Of Atlanta".

I don't know why, exactly, I like that show, or if I would like it if I didn't live in Atlanta. I started watching it just for the novelty of seeing where they were going to eat,drink,and dance around town...and then, before I knew it, I just got sucked in. Compared to some of the other "Real Housewives" series, the storylines are fairly lame and the personalities aren't all that interesting...but it's easy to watch just for the ridiculous amount of interpersonal drama and sheer displays of egotism.

This morning, I was watching the reunion show, where they have chit-chat with all the cast members and ask questions designed to start fights..but I was particularly annoyed by the show, and here's why.

On the show, the women are always using their money to try to *do* things: build businesses, write books, design clothes and plan fashion shows, record songs, etc. And, frankly, most of them aren't incredibly great at any of the things they're attempting to do, and the main reason the projects work out is because they have the money to hire professionals in that industry to make it work. (With the exception of Kandi Burress, who appears to have made all her money in the music industry, and is a very accomplished and independent musician.) But that's not what's irksome; in fact, I think it's awesome that these people have the courage and the resources to put it all out there and try.

The annoying thing is, every single time one of these ladies is launching a project, the others either sit there and smirk, laugh, and criticise, or can't be bothered to show up at all. They're forever talking behind each other's backs about how untalented and what a joke so-and-so is, rather than showing any support whatsoever. Even when asked a direct question, very rarely do any of them have a sincerely nice remark to offer about their colleagues' endeavours. It's as if anyone else attempting to succeed might upstage their own efforts, so they're almost *looking* to their friends to fail and whispering about how terrible and inferior anything anyone else does happens to be.

I suppose I'm bothered by this because I've experienced a LOT of this while living in Atlanta, and I wonder if it's something about this city, or it's something to do with how people are in general. Before ending up in Atlanta, I was always more brave about attempting to do things, putting myself out there, and believing in at least trying to do the things I loved, if the worst thing that would happen was it would make you look silly. I suppose it comes out of having a performance background, where you are encouraged on a daily basis to try, to make mistakes, to explore new things, and to not be insecure or prideful enough to be humiliated and hide under your bed if what you produced sucked. I spent a lot of time in a world where art was more about creation and less about judgment....and it hurt me terribly after a few years in Atlanta, where I didn't have that around me. Even though I wasn't even *creating* art, I found I was always being judged, picked apart, criticised; for the good things I tried to do, for the bad things, for just being me. And most of it was done behind my back by people I considered "friends". I've even dated a few people who, every time I shared an idea, thought, plan, or dream, would only ever respond with something negative.

It's made me more inhibited, more fearful, more insecure. It's made me factor "What will other people say/think?" into the equation before I do anything, and that leads me to edit myself more, to let other people into my life less, and to fear being myself because that might lead to being laughed at, talked about, or put down.

It makes me angry to see these women, who have many things going for them and none of whom are exceptionally and uniquely gifted in any way, fight to overcome their insecurities by not being able to appreciate or support anyone else's endeavours. It makes me wonder if that's what we all do to one another in this world, and why that type of unkindness is tolerated.

We're all fragile, and we're all insecure. Putting others down and cheering for them to fail can cause greater damage than people realise. It makes me very sad, Real Housewives Of Atlanta.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will start this off by apologising to anyone who may be offended by my views. If you find positive things in whatever you've found in your life to make you feel like a better and stronger person, that's great, and I am not belittling it. I am just sharing some of the thoughts and doubts I personally have, and sharing why it doesn't work for *me*. Your experience may vary. :)

I am really wondering what our society's preoccupation with positivity is.

Really, it seems fake, hypocritical, and a host of other adjectives that you can insert here to get the point that I just don't like it. It's kind of like how Americans are so hung up on weight, our celebrities are airbrushed, starved, and liposuctioned, we show pictures of models in our advertisements that are so altered even the models don't look that way and tell our children that's how they're supposed to look if they want to be happy, and we've turned "fat" into a dirty word. Nevertheless, 80% of Americans are either overweight or obsese. It's ludicrous.

I look at the "positivity" trend in the same way. I've had some strong disagreements with people over "The Secret", and other books/lectures that espouse the idea that you can have all you've ever wanted if you have a positive attitude. I must feel strongly about it, or have views that are offensive, because I've lost friends/acquaintances due to my opinions on the subject. But, somehow, I think they're not entirely wrong (my opinions, that is.).

My personal skepticism towards this type of thinking has nothing to do with disliking positivity. Looking at things from a glass-half-full perspective can help keep a person *in* perspective. Remembering you're not the only person on earth and other people face challenges far more difficult than yours on a daily basis is good for people; otherwise, we'd probably all behave like self-absorbed jerks all the time. Not to mention, it's been proven that a positive attitude helps people suffering from terminal illnesses to have a longer, better quality of life. Yes, I'm actually an advocate of looking at the positive side of things.

I'm also an advocate of realism. Are you really going to tell someone going through an immense grief in their life to "cheer up and look at the positive side of things?". Would you tell someone who was mugged, beaten, raped,spit on, discriminated against, or a victim of any number of the unfair things that happen to people in life that they invited that into their life by not putting out enough positive energy? It seems, more often than not, the "you get what you put out in the world" way of thinking often leads to that "blame the victim" scenario. ("I don't feel sorry for that homeless guy, he wasn't even *trying* to get a job!") No, I know that's not what those books are espousing...but they don't attempt to address the fundamental truth about life (most religions have the same problem, as it's an inconvenient truth that no amount of faith or positive thinking or liking of oneself will overcome:

It doesn't matter how much you smile, or pray, or put good energy out in the world...life is not fair, is not always just, and bad things happen to good people.

Sure, having faith and praying, or smiling and trying to look on the bright side can help you get through bad times. Believing in and liking yourself and holding fast to the idea that if you do good things, good karma will come back to you, those things help you become a better and more resilient person.

But if all we had to do to be happy was think happy thoughts, children wouldn't get killed in drive-by shootings. If all we had to do to be rich was really,really want it, most of us would be Bill Gates right now. This "positive thinking" phenomenon sets people up with the expectation that if you're the best person you can be, good stuff will fall into your lap. And that may be true *sometimes*. It is also true that you'll get crap that's unfair and you DON'T have to smile about it, and really, is smiling about the negative things that are a part of everyone's human experience going to make you that much happier?

I'm on Facebook, and have around 1000 "friends" (i.e. acquaintances and a few real friends). The other week, someone wrote in response to a "Having a good day" status message, something to the effect of "Will wonders never cease! You finally have a positive message here!". This is not the first time this has happened. I've gotten sarcastic messages, I've gotten de-friended..all for the crime of not being consistently positive.

I went back and took a look at myself, and thought, "Self, maybe these people have a point.". But after reading over a month or so worth of status messages, I realised, only 25% of them were positive. Then again, only 25% of them were negative. 50% of the messages were either not expressing an emotion, factual in nature, or mentioning one "good" and one "bad" thing.

And, yet, I keep getting messages (always from people who don't know me, funnily enough) telling me to count my blessings, keep things in perspective, or stop whining. Actually, I'd say I *am* the one in perspective. Whether it's in FB and Twitter nowadays, or on blogs and AIMs back in the day, I've always kind of lived my life online. I've never felt the need to apologise for showing all aspects of the human experience, good or bad, or to edit my feelings to make myself appear more likeable. I'd like to think I'm kind of an artist in that way, and also, insecure and uncertain as I may be, a very authentic person.

What I can't understand is this: Why is the world so challenged by negativity? There are emotions and experiences that happen to almost all of us that are not positive, that are not fair, that are not easy, and shouldn't people share those things every bit as much as the good things, if not more? After all, people don't need so much emotional support when they're happy.

It's almost as if it's threatening that I would share the parts of my life or the feelings that aren't pretty, or people are not supposed to talk about. What exactly would be the point of years and years of putting myself out there and sharing my life if I only shared every good, happy, positive, life-affirming, grateful-to-be-alive feeling or moment in my life? I do have plenty, and I do share them. But I also share the other parts of the rainbow when it comes to thoughts and feelings. Isn't it all part of the human experience? And doesn't it send a pretty sad message that my "friends" would not be interested in my journey through the human experience, but instead, would only like to hear the parts that make them feel better?

Back in the years I maintained Uninhibited, I put a *lot* of myself out there to people I didn't know. Perhaps it was because it was therapeutic to me, perhaps it was just because I was doing it when not many people were, when "reality TV" and "blogs" and "camgirls" were all kind of new to the scene, and there was something about that kind of raw expression/voyeurism that really appealed to me. I didn't edit all that much about my life, and I suppose, looking back, it was a little reckless, young, and stupid. I wasn't prepared to open up my e-mail and read judgments from strangers, hate mail, and other stuff that came with the territory. But I also wasn't prepared to get e-mails from strangers who'd lost their loved ones, gone through breakups, survived abuse, struggled with eating disorders and self-esteem issues, tried to conquer depression and self-destructive behaviours, and a host of other things...strangers that said "I think it's courageous to be so open in front of everyone, and it made me feel better to see a stranger I don't know is feeling some of the same things."

Sharing negativity and pain works the same way as sharing positivity, growth, and excitement. It makes people think about themselves, about others, and that when it comes down to it, despite our differences, human beings are all mostly the same. I don't think a person should dwell in negativity or self-pity, but I do think there's validity in acknowledging and sharing all kinds of feelings and experiences.

If we're all happy and positive and secure when we try to focus on feeling those things and sharing them with others, and part of that is that we never admit to or discuss the bad, sad, angry, depressed, hurt, self-loathing pieces, are any of us really growing, or just learning to repress more? Maybe a lot of people would feel better about themselves if they knew they weren't the only ones who didn't love life all the time, or had a dark secret, or didn't know how to be happy. And if this "be happy, and good stuff will happen, and then you'll be happy for real!" idea really works, isn't it kind of like telling people to "Fake it until you make it" rather than being real?

If only focusing on and sharing the happy parts of life is what helps make everyone so happy, why are we a society of repressed, depressed, discontent people buying books on the secret to being happy?

I think there's enough unrealistic expectations out there. Don't add to it by giving people the burden of thinking they should feel positive and happy and grateful and confident all the time, and if they don't, something is wrong with them. Life is often difficult, but also often very rewarding. Sometimes we get what we want, and other times we don't. Sometimes, bad things happen to us and we don't deserve them. Other times, good things happen and we don't deserve them either. And most importantly, no matter what we're going through, we're not alone or unique in that feeling or experience or challenge...and people need to hear that, rather than feeling guilty for not being happy enough, not healing well enough, not liking themselves enough.

In my view of the world, that's the real "secret".

One of the many quirks of being me is the firmly important place that music holds in my life. Beyond liking music, or always hearing songs in my head, there's actually a soundtrack to my life. I forget about that sometimes, and then, when I find myself in a strange mood, I spend some time with my Ipod.

Just about every person who's ever been anyone meaningful in my life, at any point, has a song. I might not think about that person for literally years, but if I hear the song, a thousand memories of that person will instantly come back. Even if that person is someone I don't think of too fondly, or is not a part of my life anymore, the memories attached to the song will almost always have a positive feeling to them, even the sad ones. (There are a few people for whom I am not ready for this phenomenon to apply to, and their songs are avoided as much as possible. *laughs*)

It's the same with events. Hearing a song I've attached to a certain moment from my life will bring back that moment in vivid detail, even from my childhood. It's amazing the evocative power music has in our lives.

Tonight, I was feeling a little down, so I spent some quality "me" time...reading the last book in the Twilight series and listening to my Ipod. I happened to turn on Coldplay, and instantly, my brain played a montage of scenes from my life (or at least the past 10 years), kind of like you'd see in a movie. They were, of course, all memories of moments I was listening to that song, which brought back memories of who and where I was at that particular point.

After that, I ended up purposely listening to songs that reminded me of different people and places in my life...and instead of feeling sad (as some of those memories were not the happiest), I somehow felt less alone. I was reminded that, despite some of the crazy, hurtful "down" times, I've really lived an amazing life. Not amazing to anyone but me, of course, as it's just a perfectly ordinary life...but one that's been filled with an abundance of life, and love, and adventure, and friendship, and family. Of course, it's also been filled with the negatives attached to all of those things; but sometimes, in my overall reflection process, I'm sure it's all been worth it. And rather than feeling sad or remembering the things I've lost or the sacrifices and challenges that may have left scars, I feel really blessed.

If the past almost-three-decades are any indication, when I die, I'm not going to be one of those people who feel they missed out on the chance to live. Sometimes, I'm strangely reminded of what a gift that is...and that not everyone can say that.

This all seems appropriate because a strange phenomenon has been happening in my life lately. While I've been concentrating on moving forward in my life (and not always feeling so optimistic about the path or the future), the past has seemed to want to pop up in the oddest places. In the past month, I've been contacted by two old friends I was once rather close with, but fell out of communication over the years. An ex-boyfriend and my old roommate both announced their engagements. And another old friend/roommate/whatever, who randomly popped up in my life and helped initiate some really positive changes for me years ago, suddenly announced he's moved back to Atlanta. And because in my world view, most things happen for a reason, I can't help but wonder what it is that is bringing all these unrelated people from my past into my conscious present, at the same time.

It seems somehow important that it's happened at the same time I've been having difficulties in my relationship with The Guy I Am Currently Dating, mostly due to thinking/talking about the future and whether or not we're heading in the same direction...and that I've also been going through a crisis of sorts, realising I'm no longer a young person and feeling like I'm running out of time to accomplish all the things I might want to; to find a purpose, a career, to be loved, to travel, to make a mark on the world that will help me be remembered positively when I am no longer here.

In my mind, I am not thinking about freaking out over being 30, but picturing me at 50,60,80. It isn't the first time I've contemplated aging and mortality, and that I might die one day. In fact, I've been pretty convinced for many,many years that I would not live past 30. But I've been freaking out because this is the first time I'm contemplating the alternative; that I am going to be here, that I am going to grow old, and ordinary, just like everyone else...and I am not prepared for that, I never saw that happening to me, and what am I supposed to do with the next 50 years of my life? I remember a time when the plan seemed to be to live life as thoroughly and carelessly as possible, try to create something memorable, meet a lot of people who saw my wonderful qualities and made me feel loved, and to die while I was still young, energetic, attractive, and unconcerned about the future or practicalities of life.

There was never a plan for what happened when that phase of life was over. There was never a plan for what happened after I stopped trying to "find myself" and the myself I was stuck with actually had to live an independent, adult, meaningful life.

I think that's been freaking me out a lot lately. So, I think it's pretty great of the Universe to remind me of how many life-changing experiences, things, and people have passed through my life along the way so far....and how many might be yet to come.

I wonder if eventually, I'll run out of cool songs for all of them.

Since moving into my new apartment, I've been experiencing some major motivational problems. In fact, I've just become flat-out lazy.

I blame some of this on the fact that people *are* influenced by their surroundings, and my roommate is probably the laziest person I've ever met. Though he often complains about how much he works, he hasn't worked more than 35 hours a week since we've moved in here. On the days he doesn't work, he sleeps 12 hours and plays poker in his PJ's the other 12. Sometimes he'll be in a vegetative state on the couch, or actually leave the house to play poker...but he doesn't do chores without being asked, and the things it is his responsibility to handle, I usually have to ask/remind him 4 times before he does it.

He's improved since the last time we lived together----he didn't even get out of bed to help us on the day I moved out--- but I do not know a person who wastes more time doing relatively nothing.

I'm usually not like this. I try to have a lot of energy, and sleep maybe 6 hours a night. I make a "to-do" list about all the things I'd like to do during my day. I'm happiest when I work all day and then have events to attend at night. At any given time, I have about 5 unfinished projects I'm working on. The most slothful thing about me is that I'm addicted to TV.

Since moving in here, though, some days, I wear my PJ's all day, or get up at noon on a weekday. I'm not sure why, other than I can, and nobody cares. At first, it seemed reasonable...I started working late at night, until 3 or 4 in the morning, so it was OK to sleep a little later. But, now, I stay up until 4 watching DVDs from Blockbuster, and still sleep until noon. When I'm up, I never feel like taking the dog out in the morning. I haven't been reading, writing, drawing, studying up on my trivia, listening to new music, blogging, or any of my other many hobbies. My Meetup box is about 3 weeks behind. I gave up on cleaning/organizing my new apartment when I realised it would always look ghetto and disgusting. I only eat food that takes 10 minutes or less in the microwave. And I'm not going out as much, either...I routinely turn down invites to clubs, dinners, poker, whatever, if it happens during the week. I started doing that so I would not be spending money, but now, I think it's just laziness.

As a result, I've become fat,boring, and lethargic. I'm not sure what happened, or why. It's just too easy to stay in the apartment all the time when even leaving the complex requires a mile walk. Why go out in the cold when you don't have to? As a result, my body shivers and feels pain when it's 55 out.

I don't like this new me, and I don't like where I live. I used to be excited to get up and go out into the world every day, to have a list of things to accomplish, to be on top of chores around the house or spend time out with my friends. It's like every time I live in a place I don't really like, that's difficult for me to get around, with this particular roommate, my spirit goes missing for awhile. :( I don't know why. Maybe it's just frustration; this realisation that even though I am always doing a lot of things, everyone thinks I'm lazy and not willing to fix my own problems, and that's why I'm stuck with the same ones. All the things I do never get me anywhere, so why not be like other people who feel the same way,and just stay home and watch TV?

It's like I'm not really excited by anything anymore. I'm not getting to live life the way I'd like to, so I'm giving up and not participating at all. It's kind of like house arrest, only nobody's telling me to stay inside my little bubble.

I can only imagine what December's going to be like, if I am here by myself, and don't go home for the holidays. *shakes head* I need to get a job that requires going out of the house every day, and live in a place that not only requires I walk/take the train to get around, but isn't a 2-3 mile prospect that exhausts me to think about. This suburban thing just isn't working for me.
'

I am not an organised person.

For most of my life, I've suffered with a brain that is chaotic and tangential in how it operates. And, for as long as I can remember, I've always felt a little overwhelmed and stressed by the fact that my brain consists of millions of random pieces of information all swimming around in a random fashion. Especially when I have a lot to do...I know I have a lot to do, and keeping a mental catalogue of those things ends up with me feeling anxious and overwhelmed. ("I'm going to forget something", "I'm not going to get all this done", "This is never going to all work out.)

I know this is not a new thing in my life. My childhood and adolescence were marked by notes from teachers that said, "Alayna is a bright and creative student who is well-liked by her peers. However, we are very concerned with her lack of organisational skills." I was the person who was 15 minutes late for everything, and when you opened my locker or backpack or closet, you'd wish you didn't. At one point, in my college years, my advisor even mentioned that I might have some form of ADD, between the overactive thought processes, the disorganisation, and the fact that conversations with me sometimes go a million MPH, and change topics very frequently. (I doubt ADD is to blame, as I also have the tendency to sit and focus obsessively on one thing, often for 8-12 hours at a time, and will be annoyed at any interruption that breaks my train of thought.)

Throughout my life, I've received calendars,planners, watches, file folders, and anything and everything that might help me organise my life. Most of these devices either got lost, or I just never wrote anything in.

Then, about 3 years ago, I found comfort in a very un-Alayna-like solution: lists. It's interesting, but lists somehow make my life more manageable, and calm down feelings of chaos and anxiety when there are too many things to do. The grocery store, which I've never liked going to, and would always end up forgetting why I went there in the first place after spending $60 on things I didn't think I needed, suddenly became less daunting with lists.

Even if my brain still goes a million MPH, writing things down and crossing them off makes me feel productive, and like I don't need to stress as much. My lists are often far from organised...just collections of things on the back of envelopes or index cards...but whenever I notice myself feeling really stressed and overwhelmed by life, making them really helps.

It's funny, because people always compliment me on being organised and on top of things, and have even said they'd want to hire me as a personal assistant. In reality, though, this has been a lifelong struggle for me, and whenever I'm in a situation where there is a time constraint, too many things to do, or need to find solutions for problems quickly, I get very stressed, anxious, and impatient with others. It's as if this kind of thing puts me in a crisis mode, where everything will fall apart if not handled properly. If others ever perceive me as being "on top of things", it's only because being that way keeps me from crying and yelling at people. I like to feel in control of my life as much as possible, because I really don't most of the time. But who'd have thought that making a list of everything around the house that's empty would help me feel that way? Interesting.

I suppose "paramedic" should be crossed off my list of potential career paths. *laughs*

I had planned for today's blog to be about laziness, and my recently-discovered addiction to a silly Facebook game. Instead, that entry has been pre-empted due to me feeling very upset and conflicted over a situation that just occurred.

Lately, I've been having some serious doubts/sad feelings regarding my relationship with The Guy I Am Currently Dating. We've been together for some time now, and I guess we've reached that point where things aren't quite as new and special, and as a result...as so often happens in my relationships...I've begun to feel neglected, and a little emotionally taken for granted.

It is lousy timing, because in general,I've felt very isolated and alone lately. I've noticed that my phone doesn't ring as often, and people I thought were my friends don't bother sending an e-mail or making a phone call once they don't need me anymore, because they've moved away, or gotten a girlfriend.I've noticed that if *I* don't initiate planning events, very rarely does anyone get in touch just to see what I'm doing. I've started to feel isolated and unpopular, and between that, and spending so much time alone every day now that I *actually* work from home and I have a roommate who sometimes goes two or three days without interacting with me, I've become really depressed/melancholy. I know it's not the case, but I feel like even though I know a zillion people, those who really care are few and far between.

The Guy I Am Currently Dating says he's been stressed out, but I've told him a few times I feel like things have been different between us lately. He used to text me 50 times a day, send e-mails and FB messages, and call in the middle of the day. Now, we exchange e-mails that often consist of: "Good morning", "Going to lunch", "In a meeting", "Going to dinner", and calling me to say good night. I don't feel like talking to me is such a priority for him anymore, and when we do talk, we don't always "connect". He's assured me nothing is wrong, that I am important to him, that he's always thinking of me...but I don't know how to explain how alone I feel, and that part of that is because I don't feel like connecting and sharing with me is so important to him anymore.

I was looking forward to dinner tomorrow night with him. I've been doing this Buckhead Life Gift Card thing...every month, you get a $30 gift certificate to eat at an upscale restaurant...and you have to go to every restaurant, in order to receive the next month's. This month was Chops Lobster Bar, a fairly pricey steak and seafood place, and after consulting they had AlaynaCompatible food, I was excited to go. Even though we celebrated his birthday last Friday, it was still "special occasion" enough for us to go to this nice restaurant on his actual birthday.

At 1 AM on Friday morning, he calls to tell me "Remember how you said if we didn't hang out one day this weekend so I could celebrate my b-day with my mom, that was OK? Well, I figured we wouldn't hang out tomorrow. Sorry for the late notice."

I was really upset because what I had said, last weekend, was perhaps he could do that on SATURDAY, as I was invited to a girls' night thing, and Friday could be our night. I even recall telling him about the restaurant. I also said for him to let me know, and when time went by and he didn't, I assumed we still had plans.

He said he was sorry, he didn't know we had firm plans, and there was confusion about his mom wanting to do something. Why couldn't he just tell her, "Sorry, but Alayna and I already made plans that day?" It's clear that he prefers to spend his birthday with his mom and is OK with leaving me alone to do that. And, if that's the case, I can only assume that's the case with Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, and every other holiday...and I think, as much as I like him, if that's the way it is, it is a deal breaker for me. I already dated one guy who left me alone and miserable every holiday because he was with his family, and his family made it clear I was not welcome. The whole time, for years, something said, "If this guy really cared about me, it wouldn't be like this".

I'm older and wiser now, and I know it *shouldn't* be like that. If it is, I need to know now, because I can't continue the relationship.

On top of it all, I told him I had tickets to Star 94's Little Black Dress Party next Thursday, and it was the kind of thing that girls either brought their best friend or their date to, so I asked him to go with me. He indicated he didn't want to, because it was on a Thursday...and it just made me think. How many days am I going to have to be alone if I stay in a relationship with this guy? Nobody knows what the future holds, but I anticipate in my life, there will probably be a lot of parties, a lot of dinners, a lot of events...especially if I find a career path in the entertainment/hospitality world. Will I always need to have a backup date? And, if so, why doesn't the person I'm dating like me enough to always want to attend things with me?:(

I guess this is one of the things that I feared in entering a monogamous relationship...that there wasn't any one person who would always want to do things/go places/ be with me. When you are openly dating more than one person, you're free to say, "Since you're busy and can't go, I'm going to take this person as my date to this thing". I had hoped maybe my fears would be unfounded, and even though I know we don't always have the same interests, The Guy I Am Currently Dating and I would just always go to each other's events.

I'm not really an alone kind of girl. I firmly admit to being co-dependent. I don't *like* being alone, even though I can manage just fine. But I always feel life is better in the non-singular form. I don't want our relationship to end. But I also don't want to sit at home with a frozen TV dinner, alone, every time there is a holiday or special occasion he *has* to celebrate with his mother. I don't even want to spend those days with other friends...not because I don't know how to be independent, but because I think relationships are about spending those special days TOGETHER. I want to be with someone who is unobligated and free to be with *me*. And that may be selfish, but my whole life, I've had relationships with people who were "unavailable"....living across the country, obligated to a family who didn't welcome or accept me, married or had kids, always on the road for work,not willing to committ to a "relationship"... and it left me alone many holidays, far from my family and friends, with a TV dinner, movie, and a box of tissues. I've gotten to the point where I'm far more familiar with feeling sad because I am missing someone than I am actually being with them. I so often dread holidays, because they're synonymous with me feeling alone and unloved.

It means a lot to me in my life to find a relationship with someone where it doesn't have to be like that, someone who really just wants to spend those days with *me*, because that's part of what life should be about.

I guess I want the kind of relationship I've never really found in my life, with someone who is not only a best friend, but like family...the kind of family that doesn't leave you alone with TV dinners. Maybe that's very idealistic, and many people never find that, but for me, it's worth believing in and waiting for. (like a zillion other idealistic and perhaps unattainable views I have on life.) There are some fundamental ideals in my world I just don't feel right in compromising, because part of me isn't sure I should have to. This is one of them.

I don't know if I can make it work with yet another person who needs to leave me at home alone while he spends holidays with his real family. I'm willing to make a lot of compromises and let a lot of things go to make relationships work, but this is one thing I just can't. And I honestly don't know if I see this working out any other way. :(

I just got through reading a thoroughly enjoyable book called "The Overachievers: Secret Lives Of Driven Kids", by Alexandra Robbins. Robbins is an investigative journalist and author, and now that I've read all her stuff, I'm rather disappointed she hasn't written more.

I read her most well known novel, "Pledged", where she went undercover to write about the realities of sorority/Greek life, back in 2005, and she immediately became one of my favourite authors. Outside of Elizabeth Wurtzel, there's no author who so honestly relates the everyday struggles of overachieving, self-doubting, discontent, overstressed Generation Y-ers in America today. She's managed to make a number of enemies (she was also the reporter who broke the story in the media that G.W. Bush had mediocre SAT scores.), but it's largely because she writes about the truths so much of our society just doesn't talk about.

Many of my friends are very intelligent, very driven, very creative, very competitive overachievers who never seem to feel truly comfortable with who they are, what they have, or where they are going. I also have a number of friends who are equally intelligent, creative, and driven to succeed...and yet somewhere along the line, made the choice to rebel, to define "success" as something different from what others told them it should be.

I've spent my whole life vacillating between the two groups. I learned to read at the age of two, and took the SAT's for the first time when I was 11. I can sing, dance, play a few instruments, speak a few languages, and still managed to cultivate fairly decent social skills. I did the debate club, cheerleading, colour guard, choirs, orchestras, student councils, etc., etc., etc, and began working in professional theatre pretty early on.

What I didn't do was studying. I wrote papers the hour before they were due, didn't read any of the assigned books that looked boring, and copied my friends' math homework IN math class. I was an honour student through high school and college. But I didn't care about most of what I was required to learn because it seemed pointless, like busy work. It was more interesting to me to "experience" than to "achieve".

It isn't that I don't like learning. I've always read just about anything I could get my hands on, and if something interested me, I simply found a way to teach myself about it. During my summers as a child, I always took a few weeks out to go to "genius camp" (my nickname for the Center For Talented Youth, a program that let 12-16 year olds take courses for college credit), to Governor's School, to drama camp, and other things that helped me discover myself and learn that, yes, I could do things. I am an innately curious person who likes to see and think and discover and experience as much as possible.

I just never understood how I could do that through "competing", and so I didn't. I was always sent home with notes and called into the principal's office to discuss why I didn't apply myself, why I didn't push myself to succeed. I always felt like if I could get an 89 on something I didn't care about without trying, why should I work to get a 99, and miss out on *life* in the process?

And yet, many of my friends who did apply themselves and did follow the pre-programmed path, are much more successful...in certain ways. Certainly, they are making more money, feel more confident in their abilities, and still believe in sticking to the upwardly mobile pre-programmed track. I'm envious of that in many ways; they worked harder than I did, and didn't make the mistakes I did. And, yet, in other ways, I feel ways in which they tell me themselves they feel limited, stifled, not completely aware of who they are or if they're able to choose what they really want. In the recent economic downturn, many of them have had to deal with the fact that they aren't being rewarded for sticking to the plan, for making sacrifices and working hard and overachieving, in quite the way they'd hoped.

Sometimes, I'm annoyed, because not following the path means you can't hop back on it when an interesting opportunity catches your attention. Many times I've seen a job and thought, "I could do wonderfully at this", and I could...but nobody will ever know, because I don't have the right credentials, the right connections, the right experience, the right facts on paper. I firmly believe I can learn, or teach myself, to do well at almost anything, as long as I care about it enough to want to do well...which has always been the tricky part.

I think I was about 9 when I decided the Path Of Overachievement wasn't for me. We had to write reports on basic information about the States, and I simply decided not to. It wasn't an act of rebellion; I just didn't care. I knew all the information, I could recite all the important facts, and I could write well. I just didn't understand why I should waste my time on busy work when I could be exploring things I really was curious about. I got a D in elementary school Geography. Somehow, things never changed. I barely passed a basic college math requirement, even though my numerical average was near 100. (I'd figured if I knew the material, there was no point in going to a required 8 AM class. Unfortunately, it was one of those that docked you 5 points every time you *didn't* go to class. Ooops.)

In some ways, I suppose I just always wanted freedom. I wanted to be an individual, to succeed only if I was really good at something, not because I pushed myself to feel compelled to be good at everything. I wanted to do things that made me a happy person,that let me be authentic and find myself, that I actually cared about. I didn't want to sit around crying every day of my life that I wasn't as good as someone thought I should be.

It didn't work. There are still days I don't want to go to a social event because I'm not as pretty or as well-liked as other people. I still hide my art in the closet and my poems under the bed. There are still things I am good at that I don't do at all because I learned I'm not as good as other people, or even as I'd like to be. I still have problems in relationships because I can't understand why someone would choose to love *me* when there are better options out there. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up,or even if I'm good enough at *anything* to be *anything*, much less what makes me happy. I don't apply for jobs because I know my resume doesn't make me look as capable as I know I am. I feel the same doubts and insecurities as most of my friends in hyper-competitive corporate jobs, I just have far less money and far more free time. I am a perfectionist who decided I did not want to be, and yet, 20 years later, I am often ashamed of who I am because it's not as good as I thought it would be. Ironically I am not ashamed of my mistakes, my unconventional choices, the things others might tell me to be ashamed of. I am simply insecure and ashamed in moments when I realise I'm not as special, not as extraordinary as I always thought I should be.

I've travelled, I've led an interesting life, and despite the mistakes and regrets, I think I like that it hasn't been boring. I think I almost even like knowing that if and when I do find what makes me happy, and accomplish it, it will have to be on a path of my own making. Once, someone told me I created obstacles for myself because I didn't care about doing anything unless there was some obstacle to fight against. I have always been my own greatest obstacle. I didn't write my Geography reports, or go to an Ivy League school, or get married and have a few overachieving kids. I didn't thrive in corporate America, or consider myself academic enough for a graduate degree, or believe in myself enough to see if I could become a famous actor. Instead, I am still looking...and at the end of my 20's, I'm starting to feel I've run out of places to find myself, things I might be good at.

It would be interesting to see Alexandra Robbins revisit the teenagers in the book in 10 years, see if they ever "found" who they are or where they fit in, or came to the conclusion that there were worse things in the world than being average. Because I'd certainly imagined I'd have things figured out by now, if you asked me 10 years ago!

In the past few years, I've met a few acquaintances....some with degrees from pretty prestigious schools, or impressive resumes...who've echoed many of these sentiments. It reassured me, in a way, to meet people who've said they don't want to compete, want to work for personal fulfillment rather than towards goals or money or acclaim, want to reclaim a sense of individualism and creativity they didn't even know they had. Harvard, especially, seems to be a breeding ground for this sort of 'overachiever rebellion'.

The problem is, if you're not a worker bee, you don't get to live in the hive. And though you may have more freedom to fly wherever you want to, it's a little more scary and lonely and uncertain. You miss knowing you're not alone, or the security of travelling in a pack. It's far easier to lose your way when there's no one to ask if you're really lost, or just exploring.

Sometimes, I wish I had a hive to belong to. :/

This past weekend was a surprise b-day dinner for The Guy I Am Currently Dating. I'd originally wanted to plan a gathering at a restaurant, because he knows different people from different groups, and getting most of them together is tricky. However, he mentioned he didn't want to do anything that was a big deal, because he was uncomfortable with all the attention, so I'd settled on the idea of a small dinner for closer friends.

I mentioned this to my friend V, who then offered to host a small dinner at her place, which is very well suited for entertaining and seemed like the perfect solution. V is a wonderful event planner who runs another Meetup here in Atlanta, and who has been a great friend to me over the past two years. Like me, she spent time working in the cruise entertainment field, has travelled a great deal, and can be either very charming or extremely highly strung, depending on what day you catch her. One of the things I've noticed about her is that if you have a project/event idea, she will offer to help...and that is absolutely the last you will see of your project. The dinner she hosted for The Guy I Am Currently dating was really a lovely experience and I think he liked it a lot, but it saddened me because *I* wanted to put in the effort for doing something nice for him, and in the end, I wasn't really allowed to do much. :(

There were, of course, a few complications. I should have known this would be the case when the party was rescheduled for Sept. 11th! *laughs* I'd been keeping the "surprise" dinner a secret for weeks, only to have him call me two days beforehand and say, "I've been sick this week. Maybe we shouldn't go over to V's house on Friday". ARRRRRGH! So, neeedless to say, the surprise was a little less surprising than it should have been. Also, two hours beforehand there was some drama with a very good friend who called to say, "I'm not feeling well, so I don't think I'm coming, but maybe I'll stop by for a drink." I was mildly annoyed by this, because it was two hours before the party, and he was cancelling on a 5-course dinner prepared for a specific number of people. I did appreciate that it was important to him to stop in and wish Happy Birthday to The Guy I Am Currently Dating, but felt less empathy when I learned his not feeling well was due to staying out late drinking the previous evening. ((1) If you're making a committment to do something, be responsible enough to not get so drunk/hungover the previous day that you can't keep your committments. (2) If you know this is a problem, it's probably better to let people know at the beginning of the day, not two hours in advance. I'd heard this friend called other people to say "I'm thinking of not going..." before he called us, which seemed pretty inconsiderate.) Anyhow, needless to say, I was annoyed, and knew V would be extremely pissed despite any apologies or explanations, so I told this friend to call her.

He did, and the hour before and first hour of the party were filled with phone calls and text messages from both of them, telling me how inconsiderate and self-centred the other person was. (In the past, these two friends have had falling-outs that have resulted in not speaking to each other for weeks.) Fortunately, they somehow patched things up, and this friend ended up coming to the party, albeit an hour late. All in all, I wasn't in the festive party mood I should have been. I've noticed a theme when I plan events, in that I get all of the grief but very little of the credit. If things don't work out well, though, that is almost always my fault, and I get e-mails and comments on the website for two weeks. It makes me think that despite being fairly good at it, I could never be an event planner. I simply don't have enough of the people-pleasing, team-player oriented personality.

Next weekend, which is The Guy I Am Currently Dating's *actual* birthday, I'm planning for us to go to dinner at a nice restaurant. That's the kind of low-stress celebration I like. *laughs*

Saturday night ended up being a fun night. An acquaintance of mine had been working on raising money for a cancer-related charity, and threw a party at East Andrews, featuring an Alice In Chains cover band and a Nirvana cover band. Both bands were fairly good, and the martinis were strong, and enough people showed up to make it a fun night! (though, when the 40-year-old couple sitting in our booth...who were apparently not a couple, but met an hour previously at another bar...were practically dry humping each other in the booth, I kind of wanted to be somewhere else.)

A decade or so later, Nirvana has this strange infectious energy...despite being rather depressing...that always appealed to me (and many,many other people) when I was younger. It was funny to watch a room full of drunken 30-year-olds jumping up in the air, chest bumping, and head-banging to "Smells Like Teen Spirit".

I wonder whatever happened to Teen Spirit. It just sort of disappeared. Take notice, annoying-but-trendy Axe Deodorant. :)

September has proven to be a very busy month, and I don't know how it is possible that it's flying by as quickly as it is. It just seems like it was the end of August, and now we're almost halfway through September. I still have e-mails I've not responded to from the beginning of August; I told myself "As soon as I have unlimited internet access again, I'll catch up on that." Well, I do, and it seems I'm always on my computer, and yet the e-mails have not answered themselves.

DragonCon was really an experience. There's no better way to describe it. Things I didn't like include: Waiting in incredibly long lines for seemingly everything (I leave Starbucks, Chick-Fil-A and clothing sales if the lines are too long. I hate DisneyAnything and amusement parks, and much of this is because of the lines. I don't eat anywhere that they tell me the wait is over 15 minutes.I am a largely impatient person.), standing/walking for hours on end (there was never any place to sit, and 5 times a day someone would say "You can't sit/stand here.". I wore flats and my feet were swollen and blistered,and by Sunday night, my bad knee had become very painful.), the Food Court (eating every meal in a hot,overcrowded place where you had to fight for table space and you couldn't get food the way you wanted it and they yelled out order numbers to a crowd of 100 people...getting food was like winning the lottery...was just not for me.), the people who didn't see the need to shower or Febreze their costumes, and the 29 minute wait for the MARTA train every night.

Things I did like included: Many of the panels (even though I'm not into almost all of the shows/movies we went to panels for, the actors seemed very personable and told fun stories. Some made me *want* to see the show.), the Dr. Horrible/Buffy sing-a-long (how can you not like musicals acted out at the same time it is on the big screen, and 2000 other people singing along?), Trader Vic's, the costumes, the people watching, the art gallery, and spending lots of time with The Guy I Am Currently Dating.

I didn't really make any new best friends, or even feel "at home" the way some other folks seem to. Oddly enough, DragonCon is a place where people...sometimes for the only time during the year...are free to be themselves, whatever that means, without judgment or ridicule. I think that's great,and yet, I felt *less* myself than I normally do. I suppose I am fortunate in that most aspects of my life just let me be me, and if it's a weird, or crazy,or high-maintenance part of me, it's usually accepted and understood. I have a really diverse social circle, very creative and driven friends, and don't work in Corporate America...so I suppose I'm fairly lucky. I'm pretty comfortable being me most of the time, and while my inner-rock-star might think dressing up as Cookie Monster is the most awesome thing in the world, I don't know I'd ever be as excited about it as some of the DragonCon peeps. I do admire the creativity and work and dedication...and time and money...that goes into the DragonCon experience, though.

I'd totally do it again next year, though with some modifications. No lines, staying in one of the hotels, taking naps, and finding non-food-court places to eat (or at least taking the food outside) would make a huge improvement in the experience for me, as things are more fun when I am not cranky. Many of my non-sci-fi-fan friends said they'd be into going next year (only a few said "What's wrong with you?" or "I feel so bad for you, having to spend a whole weekend at DragonCon!"), so I'd like to have a group plan to go. :)

I need to work on my energy level,though...I had no idea DragonCon would kick my butt, as I'm usually pretty energetic! Turns out, though, I'm not 21 anymore. Sigh. :P