The Ballad of Mélodie Simond -  A French girl in L.A.

 

Week of 20 July

20 July

So, I'm minding my own business (read: playing online games) when some dude dressed up as Severus Snape walks by.  I turn my head to see if I wasn't hallucinating and yep, he's got the full get-up, hairstyle and all.  He turns to me with intense eyes and waves his wand at me and then walks away.  Um?  I love working in this industry.  Yep.

What else is happening?  Well, my lower back aches.  I was so exhausted yesterday that my body and mind tuned out at 10pm.  Deep sleep.  I feel fidgety again today which sucks.  I want to get up and walk around, but I've got no reason to do so.  The boss lady has already left for the day.  Not even noon yet.

I'm sucking on two Mickey Mints.  I don't know why two.  I usually only eat one at a time.  I need something to do, something to fill my mind with activity.  When it's boring like this, I'm spending my time waiting to catch a glimpse of him as he walks by.  Terribly stupid waste of time really.  Everyone around me is bustling with activity.  One of the shows got a greenlight and people have been staying late to finish deadlines. 

I'm not going to name names, but one person is filling my heart with hate every time they have something to say.  Can't wait until a certain project is over.  I need distance from this person, before I chew their head off.  Damn self-centered assface fucker.

Just Donkey Kick it.

21 July

Sooo tired.  Last night, sat through traffice trying to get to Santa Monica to see "Inland Empire" at the Aero.  What a crazy film.  If I hadn't heard David Lynch speak so eloquently just weeks ago, I'd venture he might be off his rocker.  I don't know how I feel about his use of video.  Anywho, spent the day at the Hollywood Collectors Show.  We sold six posters totalling $1035.  Not bad at all.  Yesterday a "Titanic" poster signed by Leo and Kate was sold for $750.  Oh to have that kind of money to waste on paper and ink.  Anywho, had dinner, then went to see "Ratatouille" at the TV Academy.  Good film.  The place was packed to my surprise.  I saw someone's name in the credits that I talk to every single day on the phone.  It was nice to find out what he actually does at Pixar.  For some reason, there's no Pixar directory, and I have no clue who these people are that I talk to.  I mean really, what nonsense.  Anywho, now I'm home, tired, not wanting to type, but feeling bad if I don't at least record something of my life, lest I forget.  Sometimes, when I read earlier entries, I feel as if I were recalling a film I once viewed.  Complicated life.

22 July

Well, we saw "Ratatouille" last night and it was awesome.  Lots of fun, good story, none of that stupid pop music/film jokes for adults bull shit like DreamWorks Animation dishes out in all their movies.  The film promotes the pleasure of making and eating good food.  There's an appreciation that as humans we do more than just survive.  I really really liked the message that came through.  It's not the best rated film of the year for nothing.  And tonight we saw the new Harry Potter.  Worst one yet.  No plot.  I don't read the damn books, but Rick does.  I kept on pointing out obvious scenes that were missing to make this into a story and he'd say that was in the book.  I say boo to the director and screenwriter on this one.  What a shame.  I mean how can you misuse Helena Bonham Carter and Ralph Fiennes?  Lame.

Anywho...  What else.  Finished "Rant".  Lame.  Seriously, Chuck P's weakest novel to date.  I'm never thrilled by his stuff in general, but this was just disappointing.  I really did not enjoy the writing style of an oral biography used for a fictional character.  I don't know, it just didn't seem like it enhanced the story (if you can call it that).

Gonna watch the 30-min. "Harvey Birdman" in 15 min.  I liked the latest FOTC.  I totally think Jemaine Clement is hot again.  Fickle superficial emotions.

Pfff...  When you have something to look forward to, time flies too fast.  Also, it's good to have some things to regret never knowing.  Being certain all the time is just sad.  Do I really want to know?  Or wouldn't I prefer enjoying the ride instead?  I'm thinkin' the latter at this point. 

23 July

I spent most of yesterday sleeping and dreaming.  I woke up aching all over due to Saturday's Hollywood Collectors Show.  Loading, unloading, reloading and re-unloading nearly 200 posters, each in its cardboard and plastic sleeve, not to mention the wooden boxes to display them and a slew of other poster selling paraphernalia.  Point is, it was heavy lifting and using of muscles, something I don't do on a regular basis.  So I fell asleep Saturday evening quite early.  Basically fell into a night coma.  So, Sunday soreness overcame me.  I managed to get up, take two Advils and fall right back into dreamland for another hour.  Then I took a shower and went to the market in search of my precious groseilles.  I waded through the sea of people and finally found the stand where I had seen a box of them two weeks ago.  Except the price was now $5 instead of $4.50.  I mean really, why?  I dish out a $20, get my change and steal away with my precious cargo.  Oh they were beautiful.  Red and full of sunshine, as if each little currant had its own star inside it. 

Then we went to Target.  Ugh.  Target on a fucking Sunday.  Why?  WHY?  Whatever, apparently we need oil for the car.  So we go all the way to the aisle with the oil and of course, Rick forgot to check and doesn't what kind he needs.  So he runs back down to the parking lot while I wander the store fully knowing there was only one item I wanted.  Rick had previously broken the ceramic spoon that is used to rest wooden spoons upon the stove top.  I had browsed through the Disney store on the lot and was tempted by one resembling Mickey's hand, but it was $8.  Eff that.  Anywho, I find it, it happens to be reduced to $2.  Yippee.  Still waiting, I call Bruce to inform him about the time for Harry Potter that night.  But he was on the phone with someone else and said he'd call back later.  Sigh...  What to do...  Ah yes, I finished my book, might as well go to the "book" section, who knows, maybe a gem got lost in the shit.  But it was not to be.  It didn't matter how hard I stared at those fucking shitty books, they didn't turn into literature.  Just disgusting.  Seriously.  Fucking masses.  So I waltzed away, annoyed and discouraged.  I was tempted to just leave the store and go get a mocha or something at this point.  But Rick comes back and of course, now that he knows what type, there isn't enough of the right kind.  He also wanted a Sunday newspaper, they had none.  And this weirdo hookscrew, again, none.  So we bought the spoon and I was overcharged, but didn't verify that fact until this morning.  Whatever.  Frankly, it was only by 44 cents. 

Then we went home.  Rick read his precious Harry Potter book that I "lovingly" pre-ordered to shut him up about it.  I ate the currants slowly.  Every bite was a flashback.  I could smell the wet grass and the groseilles bushes.  I could feel the tiny plastic chair that I used to sit on when I picked them.  It was a hell of a trip.  It felt so good to have that taste in my mouth.  Rick refused to eat one.  Refused.  I couldn't even trick him. 

Not wanting to watch the telly, but having nothing else to do, I fell asleep.  Afternoon naps full of crazy dreams.  I must have slept something like two and a half hours.  Eventually I came out of my torpor and we went to the TV Academy for Harry Potter.  The great thing is it's a free screening, the bad thing is that the TV Academy members who attend these Film Group screenings tend to be the old folks.  Imagine if you will, a 400-seat theater filled up with old people watching the latest Harry Potter film.  It smelled like creeping death and the powder they use to cover up odd odors.  I felt uneasy the entire time.  After the film, we went to the bank, I deposited a check, then it was off to the apartment again. 

On the way, we figured we'd stop at a grocery store and get some food.  I made some croque-monsieur and they were delicious.  I focused all my attention on the bechamel sauce and had Rick prep nearly everything else.  That sauce was perfect, just beautiful.  It's not a hard sauce to make, but it's one you have to pay attention to make well, otherwise it can easily burn and get weird.  The trick is to stir for the 10+ minutes it takes to make.  Sure, it sucks, but the results are worth it, besides it's kind of nice to space out while stirring.  My eyes became unfocused as I faced the blue Illinois license plate hanging over the stove top.  My arm mechanically making the spoon go in an eight figure.  I could feel the sauce slowly thickening by my hand.  We watched "Entourage" while the sandwiches were in the stove and "Flight of the Conchords" while we ate.  My brain felt at ease and everything seemed real nice.  The shows were funny, the food was great.  I finished the rest of the currants.

I waited around to watch the last "Harvey Birdman", but it was only okay.  Adult Swim then mentioned something about Tim & Eric being at 1:30am next Sunday.  That pisses me off.  Way too late for a Sunday night.  I can't stay up that late for 11 minutes of awesomeness.  Sorry.  Not cool.  And so, I went to bed.  With all that sleep, I wondered whether I'd fall into it at all, but I did.  Deep sleep, troubled dreams, annoyed dreams.  Dreams of a my grandmother and things I've since shrugged away and forgotten.  I put on a pair of Rick's jeans to wear to work.  And now I'm here, bored.  Staring at him walking away, a blur of green and blue.  I can no longer smile or sustain any kind of eye contact.  The silliness of it all is suffocating.  The weakness is destructive.  I don't have a plan to overcome the nervousness and so, I sit at a loss. 

Did I mention the spiders?  I have been seeing a lot of spiders around this building lately.  I killed one big white one who decided to weave its web at an arcade game.  I'm like dude, I want to play there, not cool.  So I found a magazine and threw it at it.  Then I couldn't see it anymore.  It was lost in the carpet pattern.  And suddenly it moved, I dropped the magazine on it and stomped it.  It did not die a noble death.  And then, it was the wrong arcade game.  Stupid Asteroids not Space Invaders.  All this death for nothing.  I did not feel good about it.  I usually see the spiders on the other side of the window paned doors.  Banging against the glass because of the wind.  They can easily get in, the cracks are huge.  And this morning, a small spider started crawling on my desk.  Not finding anything I could sacrifice to use as a weapon, I went into the boss lady's empty office and grabbed a Hollywood Reporter.  I showed that tiny spider who was boss.  Actually, I have no idea if I successfully killed it.  I'm sitting here, slightly stressed out, imagining it's going to crawl up these jeans and bite my leg, like I deserve.  Damned eight-legged jerks.  I'll show you to be useful pest killers!

I dug through my extensive collection of Amélie Nothomb books.  I had a feeling that they weren't all there.  The one I wanted wasn't there.  It's a story about a nurse who comes to this island to take care of a young deformed girl that an old man keeps fed and lodged out of pity.  He removes all reflective surfaces so that she can't see how horribly ugly she is.  But the truth is...  Well, forget it, I'm not telling, read it yourself.  It's a good book.  Instead, I grabbed "Antéchrista".  Good fun until I buy more books.  I think I'll get some more John Fante books.  I am Arturo Bandini!

24 July

I am lost, confused, anxious, guilty without crime.  What is this life I lead?  The lie I live?  In a time of freedom, I feel bonded and I don't know how to get out.  In a time where it's easier than ever to walk out, I'm incapable of moving a muscle.  There's nothing there anymore, perhaps a friendship, but really nothing more.  No attraction whatsoever. 

Of which, my own image is repulsive.  When I look into a mirror, I find no love.  Although not as bad as before, it's still far from being anywhere near acceptable.  I hate the way I look, my hair, the clothes I have on right now.  I think I'm going to have to wear something really hot tomorrow, something to make up for this deficient feeling of inferiority.  Inferior to what?  I don't even know.

I am down, so down and low.  The last strings are snapping.  Nothing and no one to fall back on.  No pillar to hold me up, none to inspire myself to stand straight.  I feel like shit.

Every day is passing by and I am feeling lonelier than before.  Where has the logic and reason gone?  I shucked the structure last year and it is wearing me down.  I am no Atlas.  I need to be a part of something that I can believe in.  Right now, I'm nowhere, going nowhere, not knowing where to go if I even had a choice.

I think I know what I ultimately want my films to do, but I have no idea how to achieve, let alone approach it.  I feel like I'm waiting, but I don't know for what.  This is filling me with an incredible fear.  What if what I may have been waiting for has already come and gone?  What am I doing then?  Stilted.  Bored.  Annoyed.  And more and more anxious.  None of these really suit me.

I feel as though I've been on the verge of tears for weeks, but unable to cry.  I spent the better part of yesterday completely nauseated because of a youtube video, which only intensified the sunken feeling in my heart.

25 July

My left eye is bloodshot and itchy.  I am trying my hardest not to rub it.  I hope I don't have an infection under my eyelid.  That would suck.  Especially when one doesn't have health insurance.  Just sayin...

Well, in my misery yesterday, I came home and was in a foul mood.  I heated up the rhubarb pie from IKEA and ate two slices.  The rhubarb taste was so intense, it too brought me right back to my summers in France in my grandmother's garden.  She would cut a piece and I'd chew on it until all the juice was gone.  That flavor was so intense and the memory so vivid that I started crying.  Tears just flooding out.  I just wanted to be there so badly, breathe in the cool mountain air, wherever my eyes lay pure beauty.

Sigh...  I am wearing a red skirt and a black shirt with the cute shoes from Urban Outfitters.  I'm seriously considering getting my hair cut tonight.  I don't know.  I'd get it cut like Maggie Gyllenhaal sports hers in "The Great New Wonderful".  We'll see.

I can smell Asian food, mushrooms.  Ugh.  Just disgusting to my olfactory sense.  I just want to leave. 

Now in addition to my left eye being messed up, my left nostril is dripping.  Great.  They're most likely related, maybe I'm coming down with something.  My stomach aches as well, because of the machine made mocha I got earlier as an excuse to walk through that part of the building.  Lame and fruitless attempt to show off my outfit.

My legs are so white.  Personally, I like it, but I know it must be jarring to others.  They bounce back light.  You could white balance your camera with them.  I like being pale.  I really don't think I look like the sickly pale that some Brits have, but more of a milky white.  Skin that would've been praised over a century ago. 

I wonder if I'm in the wrong era sometimes or just caught in between two that I don't understand.

Integration, fitting in, only as much as necessary to achieve my ends really.  Keeping a close distance from being full either way.  I want acceptance, but also be recognized as different.  Unfortunately, it's not really possible to have both simultaneously.  So I settle for neither, skirting The building is starting to empty out.  Many, oh so many animators are off to Comic-Con.  We'll be in San Diego this Saturday.  Oh boy.

Last night, I watched "Fur" from the director of "Secretary", a film which I had enjoyed.  Of course it's easy to love any film that prominently features James Spader creepily staring at things. 

Boring day.  Not much to do.  Barely ate anything.  Actually I've only eaten a yoghurt.  I had a hot chocolate as well which I had to wait in line to order for like ten minutes.  Better than sitting at the computer. 

My left eye feels a little better.  Both eyes are glazed over though.

I'm wondering how short I'm going to get my hair cut tonight.  Maybe a lot, maybe nothing.  I definitely don't like the way it's looking, but I want to the top layer to grow out, so...

It's funny to witness myself being so cowardly.  Another day of opportunities wasted.  Should I talk to HR and make a point of wanting to work here?  Seems like it'll be wasted breath.

I'll be here for NO REASON tomorrow.  The boss lady will be up in Emeryville.  I really need to focus on writing.  I tried, I opened up my treatment, skimmed over it, changed a word, and then got distracted.  Lame lame lame.

26 July

Well, I got it cut short.  I don't think the hair stylist liked what he did with it too, cause he charged me less than his original estimate.  It looks alright methinks.  I know the limitations of my hair.  It's too fine, what can I do? 

Ugh, my stomach aches this morning.  My increasingly irregular eating habits are wreaking havoc on my system.  Yet, I cannot cease.  I heard on the radio that a new study shows that our friends greatly influence our weight gain/loss, moreso than family or neighbors.  Social connections.  Most of the people I know are thin and work out.  What does that say about me?

Seriously, my stomach feels terrible.  Right now, it's not withstanding pressure well at all.  But I can't feel any solution.  It's a feeling of false hunger.  Ugh...
If someone can explain to me exactly what the fuck Superball 8 is, I'd greatly appreciate it.  What I've pieced together is that it's some sort of art-based fundraising party dealy...  Not very clear.  It occurred last Saturday night at the Laurel Canyon Stages and apparently the Flight of the Conchords guys were in attendance, as well as some Channel101 peeps.  Peachy.  Looked fun from the flicker album I randomly viewed from which I learned about all this stuff.  Effin' weird.

Ha, he just saw me.  I feared he had gone to Comic-Con, cause I hadn't seen him walk by until now.  I was on the phone and he walked by and I looked up mechanically, not expecting him and he smiled seeing my hair cut.  I thought that was rather cute.  The hair cut is so short.  I hadn't felt like the stylist cut that much off, but he did. 

What else is happening, well, I've been rereading Neil Gaiman's "Smoke and Mirrors".  I had forgotten about some of the short stories, even though I'm pretty sure I've read this book at least three times through already.  Anywho, it's still good.

The interns went to Disneyland yesterday.  I was wondering where they had disappeared to.  They look exhausted.  The girl intern introduced me to this French dude.  Apparently he's been interning here for a month.  We talked for a long while.  It was tough speaking French although he claims I didn't sound like I was struggling at all.  He was a cool guy, I told him that if he wanted to do something before he left in ten days to give me a call.  I could tell he was relieved to speak French.  It's tough being immersed in a language you don't master, very tiring.  He was telling me it was the first time he was in the US.  He attends an animation school in Paris.  He had issued with getting the visa to come here.  Surprise surprise.  It's so hard to get into this country.

Earlier I went to get cereal, filled my bowl with Lucky Charms, opened the fridge and NO MILK! Somebody then walked by and yelled out "No Milk! Sorry!"  What a distressing time! I munched on some of the tiny marshmallows, but it's really not the same.  So I've got a full bowl of cereal staring at me. 

It's so quiet today.  Half the building has disappeared.  Comic-Con, of course.  In fact, the interns are going there tomorrow, sponsored by Disney.  Lucky bastards.  I will be here alone, bored out of my wits, wishing I were working on one of the shows.  Sigh...   San Diego on Saturday though, that will be fun.

The boss lady is at Pixar and inaccessible via phone.  I love it.  The week that the person I'm filling in for returns, she'll be on vacation.  Which is good for the girl, cause then she has time to get re-acquainted with all the current files.  In fact, she wants me to come in that Monday to get her up to speed.  Ha ha ha.  So very pointless, but I won't refuse if it comes to be.

I'm feeling rather superficial right now.  I love this fortress of plastic encasing the old offices that they're turning into story rooms.  I just want to in there and hide.  The first morning it was up, I didn't even notice this dude working on some wires behind the veil of plastic.  He was like a blurred form only betrayed by his movement.

This weird blonde is standing near my desk staring at nothing, it's kinda freaking me out.  I don't know who she is.  Very unnerving.  Okay, someone joined her and they walked away.  Creepy.

Anywho...

27 July

Ugh.  I don't like how easily my happiness is being controlled by irrational thoughts today.  Yesterday I left work nearly depressed at the thought that the boy would be at Comic-Con today.  And you cannot imagine how high my heart soared when I saw a glimpse of him.  At this point, I'm pretty sure he's lost all and any interest in me.  And so, I become entranced over an illusion.  Sounds about right.  Second completely fantastic thought is when I eventually made the connection and now have high hopes that the FOTC guys might come to the Channel101 screening on Sunday.  Unbelievable.  Why torture myself with this kind of hope?  Also, how stupid it all is.  And what if they do show up?  Will I go up to them and hold a natural conversation?  I think not.  So really, it's all daft.  Yet, I hold on to these hopes and roller coaster emotions as if I'd drown if they'd cease existing.

My desk is covered in dust from the construction.  I called and asked for a tarp so that I can cover it up at night.  Also, a bunch of stuff on the desk had been moved around.  And the trash bin looks like it was raped.  Speaking of which, I saw "Monster" last night.  Charlize Theron does her homework. 

This is Bowie back to Bowie. 
I'm pretty far out.
That's pretty far out, man.

My hair cut can easily look terrible.  It only takes a few hairs going the wrong direction and I look like Jan Skyler.  Oh boy.  I think I may have to start using some sort of hair product.  Shuddering.

Jonathan Rhys Meyers is 30 years old today, in case anyone cared.

Week of 12 July

12 July

Oh the agony! The Ketchup Thief strikes again.  I thought I was going to have a fucking heart attack after swiping that second bottle.  Wanna know what's funny?  I had sushi and a yoghurt for lunch.  Nothing requiring ketchup.  I think some people noticed that it was odd that I brought it to my table.  Whatever.  I'm the paranoid type, resigned and waiting for security to drag me out of here because of a bottle of ketchup.

The day is full of emotions fortes.  For one, every time he walks by and looks in my direction, I freak out and stare at something else.  Anybody else and I'm all smiles and hellos.  After my heart slows down, my brain is like whatever, next time, I'm going to be totally cool and say hello.  Ha.  The next time and same nonsense.  I swear this is just ridiculous.  Last night, I was running a few minutes late at the day's end and thought I had seen him already leave.  He usually takes the stairs, I the elevator.  But when I got to them, he was right there, waiting.  He saw me and his face beamed, he smiled.  We both got into the elevator.  Oh my! Alone! I have to say something.  I just have to! And just as I started formulating a sentence, two fucking people walked in.  I think both our hearts sinked.

I am LOVING this distraction.  But then I remind myself, this is outrageous.  Even if I did muster the courage to talk to him, I can't go through with anything.  I can't really flirt.  And I'm not one to bring someone's hopes up for nothing.  That's cruel.  I am not one of those people, despite the fact that I have done that many times over.  With so much shame.  Why?  I think I like the attention.  You know, from someone that's acceptable.  My shirt may have been a tad low and I think my cleavage seemed more pronounced than ever.  Fucking big breasts, so annoying.  Two older men stopped by my desk and introduced themselves.  I was like, um, ew.  Dude, you're like 50 and balding.  Maybe because I'm not particularly pretty, I give off a desperate or will accept whatever comes my way kind of vibe.  I don't know.  I'm no dumbass but I'm afraid that my bosom may make me seem that way.

Sometimes I like to wear really frumpy clothes and look horrible.  I like being unapproachable.  At fucking peace.  Not today.  I decided to show off my legs and wear a skirt.  Besides, it was a good excuse to wear those Urban Outfitter shoes I bought for $20 a few weeks back.  I wanted to test them out, see if they were painful.  Red skirt, black shoes, black v-neck top.  I parted my hair the other way.  I'm at a point where my hair looks bad at its current length.  I want to let it grow out, but it looks so awful that I just want to get it cut short as well.  Rick thinks it looks good short.  Sure, it does.  But I want to see if it'll straighten when longer, like it was a few years ago.  Why the hell is my hair curly all of a sudden?  Weird shit.

God damn, he walked by again.  Looked straight at me and I looked down.  Placed my hand over my mouth, as an unconscious excuse as to why I'm not smiling.  I'm starting to feel pressured.  God damn this is stupid.  Earlier, he pulled up his pants, re-adjusting the waist.  He wears boxers.  It reminded me of when people flirt and they "innocently" talk about taking showers, but really it's to implant the image of themselves naked into the flirtee's mind.

I've been listening to the "Icky Thump" album all day, over and over again.  I'm lovin' "Conquest".  Then again, who wouldn't.  I also adore "Rag & Bone".  Great stuff.  Oh and "I'm Slowly Turning Into You".  Great lyrics.

I thought of a great title for one of those stupid, stupid bestseller books written by women about the power of shopping and girl time, or whatever nonsense.  The kind that Cosmo would praise.  "Shoes & Booze".  Who's going to write it?  I'm opening the floor.  Or I'll just Google it and find out that many people use this phrase.  So what.  The title seems to be available.  Do it.

I had to add a little something about Peter, Bjorn & John's "Young Folks" that I played on the computer yesterday.  There are several bits of whistling in the song.  I've always noticed that whether whistling is coming from speakers or from someone in the room, it sounds the same.  So, every time I played the song, I could hear people whistling in the halls and in the floor below.  I'm not sure they could hear the rest of the song, but they definitely caught on to the whistling.  Hilarious.

14 July

Well, well, well...  The shoot is over.  And now that I'm no longer stressed out, I've been passing in and out of consciousness all day.  Slept on the couch and bed.  Finished reading John Fante's "Ask the Dust".  Regretting leaving the other book at work.  Typical Saturday morning, went to the bank, returned crap at Home Depot and went to Target.  Oddly enough, parking spaces were easy to find and there were no lines! I was prepared to be standing around for at least a half hour at Home Depot.  But nope.  Good times. 

Aux armes, citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons!
Marchons, marchons,
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!

The shoot wrapped an hour earlier.  About 8 shots each.  Rick edited them both.  One's nearly 100% complete, the other about 80.  TOOOOOOO EASY!!!

Ugh.  It's hot.  And muggy.  And not raining.  LA weather.  Fuck it. God, the heat is becoming unbearable.  I'd rather take up the challenge of "dealing" with it than turn the A/C on.  I don't know why.  I think I want to suffer a little.  A few years ago, whenever I felt terrible which was pretty often, I'd go to the bathroom look in the mirror and insult myself.  And I'd cry and cry with a red face, explaining to myself that I was stupid and ugly.  And then one day, I couldn't cry anymore.  I just laughed and laughed.  Because the truth of it is I'm neither ugly nor stupid.  I just like exacerbate my pain, so that I could feel it better.  What's my current pain?  Fuck, who knows, who cares.  Unhappy really.  Not living in fantasy enough.  Maybe that's why I'm always having a minor crush or other.  Passing the time.  It's just dumb. 

Ha.  I've been trying to instinctly figure out his footsteps when he walks by my desk, but I can't really figure it out that well, so I look up every time someone walks by.  I wonder if it disconcerts anybody.  They always look into my desk area, because it's SO open.  Damn annoying, but amusing too.

It's slowly getting darker.  John Fante is right, if the night never came, it'd always be one long day in this city.  Changeless, seasonless, yet time weighs heavily.  I never know what time of the year it is.  Not new, but it's becoming more baffling.  I feel like I'm losing control over general reality and replacing with one that I'm creating.  Not one that I'm enjoying either, just something to pass the time.  I hate that feeling.  I'm literally wasting this life.  And it's fucking scary.  It just goes on and on and although more is being created, nothing's moving.  Like a puddle of stagnant water that's just growing and growing without rhyme or reason. 

We never signed a new lease, they never asked.  Since June, we've just been paying month to month, hoping they wouldn't notice or up the rent.  Well, the dream is over.  Starting September, the rent is going to be $50 higher.  All this without us ever signing anything.  Something's not right.

Fuck, always a fucking monologue.  Seriously, it's damaged my nerves.  I can't fucking stand it.  What does it feel like again?  What is it like to be in front of someone and share ideas and thoughts?  What the fuck am I doing? 

The less grasp I have, the more nonsense I create.  It's all confusion, but to what purpose?  My guess is none.  Add all this up and it comes out to zero. 

Please, someone, show me the fucking escape pod.  I'm tied down by comfort and security, losing my mind.  I don't want something to replace this, I just want my fucking peace and quiet.  Every day, there's something wrong.  And I hate how I've become, snippy and pissy and just all around bitchy.  Mostly edgy though.  Ready to crack over nearly nothing.  The vase is tipping over.

I see all around me, I see the other life choices I could go towards, and nothing looks appealing to me.  Maybe I'm following my gut which is saying, just stay put, wait a little longer, something's coming, I promise.  Yeah, well, I'm beyond getting fed up.  I can't even vomit at this point.

I'm tired of doing so much for someone who isn't me.  I'm starting to get that feeling again.  The one where I'm getting real tired of paying the rent and bills for two people.  I'm getting resentful again.  It only takes six weeks.  Please note.  After six weeks, I start getting annoyed about this.  I'm not getting enough in return.  Only a lot of fighting and annoyance.  So, does this justify wanting to seriously flirt with someone else?  No, it doesn't.  It's still not right, but damn does it fucking feel good. 

When I was a teen, I could not imagine how anyone could cheat on someone.  This, even though my mother is quite the cheater, but somehow I was completely blind to this at the time.  Now, I'm starting to get it.  It's actually way too easy to fall into that trap.  Passons.

L'ennui est une chose, mais maintenant c'est CHIANT.  Je me fais CHIER.

16 July

And just like that it ended.  I knew his name.  An extra day went by without seeing him.  And as though the two were inter-connected, even Jemaine Clement didn't seem as attractive, despite the nudity of last night's episode.  I'm disappointed.  So soon, the distraction is gone, disappeared.  My heart doesn't even skip a beat, let alone beat wildly at the sight of him.  It's tough sustaining a crush when there's someone to come home to.  Maybe now I'll have the courage to speak?

Started reading the new Chuck Palahnuik.  The few pages I've read, I like.  They moved the space chairs to the third floor.  My little concentrated universes are now closer.  Although the view isn't as interesting, it's a nice vantage point people-watching-wise.  Today has been busy, between random DHL packages that needed to be copied and sent, random AC lists that needed reformatting, and the Development Dept's project, I feel a little frazzled.  My attention has been constantly divided.  He's wearing a green shirt.

I bought a few weeks worth of yoghurt and four days worth of DanActive drinkable dealies.  I already feel better, stomach-wise.  I can feel it working too which I suppose is kind of gross. 

To celebrate Bastille Day, Saturday night we went to Café Marly's and had very good French food.  I've been there probably over five times by now, I think they recognize me.  They speak French to me without hesitating.  Anywho, I'm an easy person when ordering, whatever the Chef thinks is best.  I think they liked that, because they brought out extra food and made the dessert in a very particular manner.  It was a creme caramel, no big whoop, but they made the caramel right there and added Haitian vanilla, the waiter was in near ecstasy explaining how especially delicious it was.  Of course, I'm pretending we didn't spend $80 we don't actually have on this meal.  It was damn delicious though.  And necessary for me, emotionally.  I hate summer, I spend the entire season wishing I were in France having fun with the extended family.  Fucking depressing.

Anywho, I'll be alone for a week in August, right after this assignment finally comes to an end.  I saw the boss lady waltzing into the commissary at lunch, so I turned on my heels and took the bridge to the lot.  There I ordered pretty decent Chicken Chimichangas with Cuban rice and black beans.  I think that's pretty balanced. 

Yesterday I was at the Egyptian Theater all day.  Around high noon, under the burning sun, I was going up palm trees hanging banners for this stupid, stupid Mods & Rockers Festival.  Damn if I don't abhorr anything that Martin Lewis is involved in.  That man is a menace.  And the people setting up the stage were incredible assholes.  I was about to walk out, but then we all had a diplomatic meeting.  I mean COME ON.  I was there as a fuckin' favor and to forgo a guilt trip.  The whole day was just ridiculous.  Free concert, never a good idea, I mean unless you're the audience.  Otherwise, it sucks.  I got a bit burnt.  Meh.

I cannot wait until this assignment ends.  I'm so fucking sick of this position.  I'll definitely miss the building and the other people, but this?  A co-worker's wife had her baby on Friday, so he's gone for the next three weeks.  I hear it was a difficult birth, but that they're all fine.  A girl.  I wonder what they named her. 

What else...  I don't know.  Weird dreams.  Annoying people. 

Ha.  Despite being "over" my crush, I still can't look him in the eye for more than a split second.  Maybe these emotions will resurrect themselves.

19 July

What can I say?  I've actually been busy.  I was given several projects and they were all meticulous and annoying, but I felt productive.  That's all that matters really.

Fine, I'm going to talk about what's really on my mind.  That boy.  Ugh.  Why?  Adrenaline surged to my brain when I looked up earlier and he was there.  He looks over every time he walks by.  Sure, he's not the only one who does, but he's the only one who doesn't say anything.  So many people have stopped and had a short conversation with me.  At this point, it would feel ludicrous for either of us to utter a word.  I thought to myself, Tuesday, that's the day.  I'll force myself to say something.  I've got to.  End this madness.  Tuesday rolls around and he's wearing that damned black "Venture Bros." t-shirt.  Perfect.  I've been provided with a reason.  "I noticed you wear that shirt often, who's your favorite character in the show?"  Two opportunities presented themselves.  And each time, just as I quickly gathered courage and steam, someone came up and took one of us away.  Argh.  And so, no conversation.  No verbal exchanges were made. 

Sometimes I think about the time I was laying on this couch on the third floor reading and he went to one of the arcade games and looked in my direction and nodded.  That moment has somehow become transfixed in my brain.  All this prior to noticing squat and it was wasted then as time is wasted now.  Can you believe it?  Even if I were truly single, I wouldn't even be able to approach him.  Someone who is totally within my range and I wouldn't be able to pick him up.  Nada.  I am WEAK. 

When Rick came to France with me, nobody could say his name correctly.  In France, they don't abbreviate names like they do here, but since he doesn't go by Richard, I kept on presenting him as Rick, which sounds like reek.  And everyone would say, Eric?  No, REEK.  What kind of a name is that.  It's short for Richard.  What?  Names...

I got a hot chocolate from the second-floor Caffeine Patch.  Forgot that it was cash only and I have none, so I'll have to go on the lot to use the ATM.  Ugh.  I need liquid anyway.  This Sunday without fail I will buy some groseilles.  I keep on forgetting.  I need them, so badly.  They are summer to me.  They are every summer of my childhood.  I need them like I need to be in France right now.

My father's going to turn 50 in January.  If I buy a ticket right now, I can get a non-stop from LA for $700 which is just phenomenal.  Fucking 13-hour flight. 

I'm starting to feel sleepy all of a sudden.  I had a granny smith apple earlier.  I forgot how good they could be.  They're the only type of apple I like.  Everything else leaves a bad taste in my mouth or has a strange texture.

Been reading "Rant".  It's definitely interesting.  I feel like I'm reading a documentary transcription though.  Had to get used to it.  Ha, the Pussy Psychic.

Week of 4 July

4 july

Yesterday, we got let out of work early.  So after Rick picked me up, we wandered over to the Burbank Kwik-E-Mart.  The line was long and it was over 100 degrees, so we said fuck it.  I'm not waiting in line to get into a 7-eleven like it's a ride.  I can't imagine that they've THAT many Simpsons products that it's worth it.  Then again, I suppose the logic is that they may run out.  Who knows.  I get it, it's not good publicity for a PG-13 rated film to make Duff Beer.  But dammit, I want to taste some Duff.  I watch the Simpsons at least once a day.  We own the first nine seasons.  I've seen them all.  It's a sickness that I contracted in the Midwest.  Everyone I knew watched it three times a day.  I got into it and that was that.  Addictive.  This film is going to make so much money.  The show is broadcast all over the world, so I can't imagine that worldwide box office would be that bad.  Domestic is going to be through the roof for sure.  People have been waiting for YEARS for this to happen.

Anywho, we went home, defeated.  I watched three films, "Stay" (beautiful cinematography, amazing visual transitions, but ultimately pointless build-up to a non-story), "Tristan & Isolde" (gag, BORING, failure on a grand scale), "Jet Lag" (weird French romantic film between Juliette Binoche and Jean Reno, no sex scenes oddly enough, but I'm sure as hell not complaining, ew).  Then we went back to the Kwik-E-Mart.  It was night time, almost 10pm.  The line was even longer.  We're like FUCK THAT.  Besides going at like 3am, I think there's going to be a line for at least the rest of the week.  I don't even want to imagine how today is going to be.  So, we wandered around looking for a sushi restaurant, which isn't a difficult task.  The one we went into, we got completely ignored by the staff, so after five minutes of standing around pointlessly, we were like FUCK THIS TOO and left. 

Lame.

I slept until noon today.  Took a looooooong shower.  We're planning on going to this public pool by a dam in the valley.  It's going to be hot hot hot.  I'm going to wear a t-shirt over my swimsuit like a nerd.  Whatever, the aloe vera has been really healing my sun burns, I don't really want to make them worse.

5 July

Holy shit.  Last night, we went to the roof to watch the fireworks and some neighbors were having a little party.  I joined in, brought PBR, tequila, rum and absinthe.  Each bottle was about a third full and we finished them all.  I got majorly trashed.  I blacked out.  I don't remember coming back to the apartment, but I do recall vomiting naked in the bath tub.  It wasn't the good kind of vomiting.  Apparently I puked all over the bathroom.  I opened the cabinet this morning to get a new bar of soap and there was vomit.  Ugh.  Gross.  So, as expected I'm not really feeling too well this morning.  I'm incredibly tired and weak (like after one donates blood).  I'm nauseous.  And although I'm exhausted, closing my eyes makes me ill.  And of course, this morning, I am asked to actually do some work.  I don't know how I'm managing to speak coherently on the phone.  Perhaps I'm just imagining that I'm coherent. 

I'm munching on Milano raspberry cookies trying to fill up my stomach, so that I can take some advil.  And I'm drinking iced black tea, Tejava brand which is actually pretty damn delicious.  Smooth flavor.  I likes it a lot.  Well, I always drink too much about twice a year.  I haven't been this trashed since New Year's.  I think.  Man, I can't even express the pain I was in last night when projectile vomiting.  I felt like I couldn't get the pain out.  I think I started dry heaving in the end.  And then my body temperature dropped and I started shivering.  Mild alcohol poisoning?  Maybe. 

My glasses smelled a bit funky, so I wore my only other prescription glasses which are my sunglasses.  Yeah, I didn't look like I've got a hangover when I walked in.  So of course, today, I feel like shit, my pants are unzipped, because the pressure on the digestive track isn't helping.  I was walking towards my desk when I spot this guy that works here that I think is kind of cute.  And after weeks of sneaking peeks at him and being ignored when I try to say hello, this morning, he looks at me and acknowledges my existence.  Not only that, but I think he might have a little crush on me.  I think he blushed.  He walked by a little later and gave me a nod.  I'm thinking, hello, what's all this then?  I feel like I'm in high school and I've got a crush on the shy artsy guy.  Anything to distract the mind from this numbing non-job is a-okay with me.

By the by, this is the guy that I feel I need to know for some reason.  Since this is a friendly work place, people say hello to each other even if they don't really know one another.  So, I've been innocently smiling at him for the past few weeks.  I wish I knew his name, but I don't want to ask anyone as it might seem odd.

6 July

So, yesterday was a bit of a roller coaster.  I'd feel better, then I'd feel much worse.  By the time I went to lunch I was freezing cold.  I trembled as I ate, trying to regain some heat.  Despite the fact that it was supposed to be over 100 degrees in the valley, there was a cold wind.  Nothing could make me warm.  I just sat there shivering.  I came back into the Feature Animation building and sat in those chairs that I love so.  I had programmed an alarm on my cell, in case I'd fall asleep.  When I went back upstairs, I remembered that the girl for whom I'm temping has a blanket.  I wrapped myself in it and forgot that I had my sunglasses on.  I may have looked a bit odd to people when they walked by.

Slowly I felt warmer and subsequently better.  I drank lots of Tejava.  The fact that there was no sugar, yet still wasn't tasteless like water was the perfect balance that I needed.  I wasn't the only one looking like crap.  I caught a few people sleeping on couches.  4th of July in the middle of the week is no good.  My digestive system isn't quite at a 100% and my abs ache, but overall I feel alright.  I FINALLY watched "Midnight Cowboy" last night.  Good stuff. 

Apparently a bunch of couples are getting married in Vegas tomorrow (7/7/07) as if that'll bring any more luck to the marriage.  Meh.

This morning I was walking with another temp and I crossed that guy.  He looked at me and seemed annoyed.  I continued talking to the other person and stole a glance, only to see that he was STILL looking at me.  I'm like, hello hello, Dr. Watson, I think we may have a case.  But really, what would anyone want with a bloated whale like me?  Tuesday night, I had a bit of a fit and felt just awful.  Even this morning, I put on a skirt that at one time I had been so thin, it had fallen off! Repulsive.  I hate feeling so down about how I look, it's just so fucking lame. 

Oh well...  Maybe I've just reached a breaking point.  I'm really sick of this perma-belly.  It has got to go.  It's got to.  Also, I don't know what to do with my hair.  I want it short, but I also want to let it grow out.  Conflicting.  Right now it looks terrible.   It's at a very "meh" stage, sorta curly, but not.  I don't know why my hair is getting curly either.  A lifetime of straight hair and suddenly it's decided to alter itself.

I'm really blathering on about nonsense.  Pay no mind, please.

7 july

You know what really makes a gal feel extra special?  It's when Casey asks you to be his myspace friend.

Woke up this beautiful Saturday morning majorly stressing out about next Friday.  So much needs to be done.  I've go to make some lists.  I got up early because I couldn't sleep and sat at the desk.  The phone suddenly rang, twas my father.  He had tried calling earlier in the week and I told him I'd call tomorrow, but whatever.  Good distraction.  I talked to him, my little bro Axel (who was playing some computer game and wasn't paying attention at all, but refused to not to talk to me, effin 9 year olds), and my stepmother.  Actually, it's terrible but I barely listened to what she was saying.  I didn't even notice that I wasn't paying attention.  Suddely I realized I was mechanically saying yes or oh no depending on her tone of voice.  I really have no clue what she was talking about.  Oh well.

What else...  I'm listening to Queen's "One Year of Love" (from Highlander) which cracks me up.  I should be taking a shower, but there's a bucket of bleach in the tub and I don't feel like moving it.  I'll be at the Egyptian all day today.  We'll be doing lots of poster work, sellin' and whatnot.

Oh shit, frivolous lawsuit?  Woman suing McD's because she can't eat their food with her feet! $4 million compensation?  Seriously?  I mean come on.  Sucks to be you lady, but that's just fucking stupid.

Well, I best be on my way.

9 july

He's not here! I was fully expecting to run into the dude who may or may not have the hots for moi when I came into the office.  And I didn't.  No sign of him, so he perhaps isn't here today.  Sigh...

Well, I may be here until August 3rd.  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I love this 4-week assignment which is turning into a very long engagement.  Except there's not hot guy with amnesia at the end of it.  Or maybe there will be... 

I feel fucking stupid today.  My apologies.  Saturday night, I stayed up until 3am watching "The Devil Wears Prada".  What a brilliant premise turned into formulaic shit.  It's so painful to see that kind of crap.  And come on, Anna Hathaway as a plain girl who's a size 6?  What the hell is the public smoking if they believe an ounce of that?  Can I have what they're having, please?  Because obviously that's what you need to be on to make it in this town.  Disgusting.

So, I slept until 11:30am on Sunday.  I woke up feeling rather weak.  Later I fell to incredible stomach pain.  I still feel weak.  I'm unable to think clearly either.  Not good.  And to top it off, I was able to fall asleep at 11:30pm, after only twelve hours of being awake.  Something's not right. 

Saturday, I was at the Egyptian Tiki dealy at the poster vendor table.  We only had the expensive signed posters out.  We actually sold one.  I was impressed.  We catalogued 125 of them.  And now I'm making special sheets for each with the price and names of people who signed.  It took a long time to figure out some of those signatures.  Thank goodness for IMDB.  People, if you're going to be famous, please please please sign big and legible.  Seriously, it helps everyone involved, from the seller of signed items to the collector.  This goes for all items including books. 

My favorite signed book is by Neil Gaiman.  He was doing a reading of "Coraline" in Chicago and I had him sign my copy of "Smoke and Mirrors" which is a collection of his short stories.  To be honest those are his strongest works.  Really good stuff, I highly recommend it.

Got rid of Showtime.  I'm not paying $15/mo. for a channel that I don't watch.  I also contacted Amazon.  I never got one of my orders.  It's ten days overdue shipping-wise.  The tracking claims that they attempted to deliver it two Fridays ago at midnight.  I doubt they tried at all.  No slip, no other attempt?  Something's not right, I tell ya.  I WANT MY FUCKING BOOKS!

I'm bookless at the moment, it's driving me nuts.  I really need something to distract my mind from the damn stress.  I can't wait until this week is over.

10 July

I'm so tired right now.  It took me all of 15 min. to get and eat lunch.  I had the ABC commisary's spicy tuna rolls and this cake thing.  I saw that piece of cake and it looked SO good.  And to my surprise, it surpassed my expectations in terms of flavor.  So fucking good.  I'm not much of a dessert person, but it was callin' to me.  Man, good stuff.  Since I had another 45 minutes to waste, I went to my favorite chair and fell asleep.  Someone else was in the chair next to mine.  Luckily their cell phone alarm woke me up, cause I had set mine for AM instead of PM.  Wah wah.  Not that it really matters, no one's up here.

Yesterday afternoon, she gave me a bunch of filing to do.  I finished most of it, except for this one extremely annoying one.  I started feeling woozy so decided to let it go for a while.  Clearances.  Insanity.  Oh and suddenly that boy was around.  I saw him sketching in the lounge when I left for the day.  It's funny, now that I sense more's afoot, I've lost all ability to say hello or even smile.  I'm seriously scared out of my mind.  Damn you! For example this morning I needed to cut this sheet of paper, so I went to the area where the paper cutters are.  It was temporarily hidden by these giant boards and I thought how funny it would be if he were right there.  And he was! And it freaked me out.  I muttered an excuse to get by and stared as hard as I could on my paper cutting which really wasn't done very well.  Unbelievable.

The funny thing is he doesn't talk to me either.  He doesn't say hi or anything.  Ew...  I just saw a big flash of cellulite.  This girl should not wear such revealing skirts, that was just nasty.  Oh man, I'm freezing.  I've got the blanket on.  So, yesterday, thinking he wasn't here, I asked this woman if she knew his name.  I thought he worked in her department.  She thought I was talking about someone else.  She had no idea who he was.  And to top it off she made me promise her to point him out to her next time I see her.  Yeah, right.  I think not. 

I can't think straight right now.  When I woke up in that super comfortable chair, I looked out the window.  I saw the strangest thing.  There was a small bird chasing a much, much larger one and attacking it.  The big bird couldn't seem to get away.  It was really weird.  I wonder what the Romans would've made of this omen.  Yawn!!! I can't stop yawning.  My eyes are glazed over.  Ugh.  So much to do, must focus...  We had a 3 hour meeting last night about the Friday shoot.  I feel relieved.  We solved some issues and addressed many, many concerns of mine.  Tomorrow night, Ikea trip.

11 July

I haven't been sleeping and I'm waking up dehydrated and exhausted.  I'm blaming the fan.  I hate that fan.  At least it was cleaned and doesn't smell like piss anymore.  But damned if I didn't wish I had my own bedroom.  Anywho, one of the summer interns got crushed by some boards this morning.  She severely sprained her wrist.  They took her to the hospital to see if it's broken.  That sucks.  I heard the crash, but didn't think anything of it.  I really hope there's more pain than actual damage.

I feel so completely ashamed.  I stole a glass bottle of Heinz ketchup from a diner last night.  I can't even express the horror I feel.  I don't care to rationalize it either.  I understand, it's just ketchup, but I would've rather paid for it.  I have stolen before, but usually at places where I've worked, because I was severely underpaid and ill-treated.  It was a form of revenge.  I'm not saying it justifies shit, but I wasn't stealing from an innocent diner.  Seriously, I feel really bad.  Yes, yes, it's for "art".  Ha.

Still waiting for the Arclight to sell tickets for "The Simpsons Movie".  Man, it's gonna be awesome!

I watched a terrible film last night, "Tongan Ninja" co-starring and co-written by Jemaine Clement.  Who is really skinny in this film.  Also, he doesn't wear his glasses or use his normal voice.  It's supposed to be a kung-fu parody, but it's just shite.  The only funny thing was that everybody kept on saying ninjer.  Ha ha ha, silly NZ accent.  Thankfully, it was only 82 minutes long.   Later, we looked for Bret McKenzie in LOTR.  Ha ha ha.  He looks even worse as an elf.  Hilarious.  I think it's really funny that his brief moments in LOTR caused a sub-fandom in the internet world.  I still don't see how so many, many people thought Orlando Bloom as Legolas was hot.  Maybe I'm just not elf freak. 

So, I'm nearly 100% positive that my boss-lady is in the midst of a divorce.  That sucks.  Might explain part of the weirdness, but it definitely doesn't excuse all of it.

Sigh...  Can't wait until Awesomecon! Yay!

So so so...  Been working.  Trying to get this lawyer to commit to a 15 min. phone call.  His assistant sucks.  Keeps on giving us the runaround.  Unbelievable.  Meh.  What else...  I think my lack of smiling has weakened the guy's confidence.  I still notice him giving me looks and glances.  Fun times. 

Week of 26 June

26 June

About 20 pages left to read of "Hollywood".  When I think about my involvement in the film industry, I feel as though I've managed to put my feet in the water and am waiting for people to move out of the way so that I can dive in head first.  I hope it won't be much longer.  This is just silly.  I'm aching to SWIM!

Anywho, I can't remember last night.  Nothing must have happened.  Let's see...  Went to the Egyptian, saw Bruce, signed a couple of cards, dropped off some signed posters.  I was starving.  I had not eaten anything all day.  I got home, made some pasta and a sauce with chopped tomatoes, red wine, a sundried tomato pesto, some pepper, oregano and one too many shakes of tabasco.  It was really good and it doesn't seem like it's really that unhealthy.  There was no butter or oil involved.  And then I'm pretty sure I wasted away the evening with television.  I did storyboard a one page script, maybe I should do another right now.

This morning was spent going up and down three flights of stairs.  Good exercise really.  I was prepping and sending off DHL packages.  Various contracts for various projects.  Good fun.  And then I created some labels.  Wow.  Yesterday evening, I spoke with a couple of the interns here.  Nice people.  One dude I had talked to before and shown some of my projects online.  This other girl introduced herself.  I had seen her around, petite, cute as a button, always nicely stylish in an unpretentious manner.  I had liked this one pair of boots she wore last week, but didn't get the opportunity to tell her.  She commented on the razor blade belt.  That belt always gets compliments.  I had worn it atop the red skirt and long black shirt.  The buckle looks like a razor blade.  It was purchased at an H&M off a mannequin.  It was for men, but fit me just fine.  Any time either I or Rick wear it, people come up to us compelled to say something about it.  Is that a razor blade?  Yes, I believe so.  Wow, nice belt.  Yep, it's cool. 

And that's how I met that girl intern.  She said she felt sorry for me.  She saw that I played online games all day, wasting away.  I told her that when I'm forced to be unproductive, I can't muster the energy to write like I should be.  It's better when I'm under pressure and working on various projects.  Ideas flow then.  Oh well.  I told her I'd rather be cutting paper or moving giants story boards like they do, then waste away in front of these monitors.

I need to add more CD's to this computer's iTunes.  It's starting to feel limited.

27 June

Yesterday afternoon, an intern came by and asked me what game I was playing.  I couldn't even explain it.  Then I realized that I wasn't even interested in playing the game.  I felt really stupid for wasting so much time.  So I created a basic story board page and made some copies and went down to work.  I drew all the shots for one of the Heinz ads which were then modified later that night. 

The new hard drive came in yesterday as well.  It's bigger, heavier and faster than the previous one which corrupted.  So now we just need to redigitize a bunch of stuff and get back on track.  The Coco Ono Show is suffering...  I really want to get it done, but it's been a battle.

Anywho, it's too early to really have anything to write about.  I've finished "Hollywood" and now am faced with nothing to read.  I looked over the books I hadn't read yet.  There were like eight poetry books, ick, and James Joyce's "Ulysses".  I cannot seem to be able to read that book.  After page five I want to burn it in my burn bucket.  But since I've got nothing else to read until my Amazon order comes in, I'm kinda stuck with it.  That or reread French/Belgian comic books, but I'm not really into them right now.

I think I know who that dude who came up to my desk and recommended a book to me.  He's one of the composers.  I hear him mixing music all the time.  Well, I think that's him...  My inability to remember faces kinda hinders any certainty.

28 June

The night before last I dreamt of Scarlett and buying stuff at a thrift store.  So yesterday when I was in front of a detestable Urban Outfitters, I felt inspired to go in.  I tried a bunch of clothes on, but nothing looked right.  I did get a pair of shoes for which I was prepared to pay $40, but it turned out all the stuff on sale was 50% off.  So, woot woot, they only cost $20.  I don't feel so bad spending money and the shoes are awesome.  They would've been perfect for working behind-the-scenes at the Emmys.  Low heel, but stays steady on your foot, and they look great.  I buy a pair of shoes about once a year, so don't label me as a shoe freak.  I'm just shocked to have found something I liked.  My rule is to not buy unless I really like it.  Every time I buy something that I'm like meh about, I never wear it.  I usually end up giving it away to an aunt or cousin who adores it. 

Rick and I ate at Caioti.  It was really good.  I vaguely remember someone having eaten there for lunch and bringing me back some pizza from there.  And it had been delicious.  We were not disappointed.  We shared the buffalo pizza which touts ground bison beef and a special hot sauce.  Damn delicious.  The meat tasted smoother and yet stronger than beef.  I forgot what it was like to taste something new.  We also shared this crazy salad made with a goat cheese, tomato and bacon confit.  Really good, but so heavy.  We couldn't finish any of it.  The homemade lemonade was tasty too.  I have a penchant for citrus and I was not disappointed.

I'm really sleepy.  I kept on being awakened throughout the night.  I wish I had my own bed and bedroom.  I also wish I had a cat.  But then sometimes I think about how if I had a cat, my life would be changed and this thing would always be there.  Then I start feeling panicky.  I'm not too could with life changes.

I had a terrible realization last night.  I know the brutal difference between a director and a filmmaker.  Honestly, it's depressing.

Oh man...

29 June
Last night, I went to a free pre-screening of "Hot Rod".  Wow that was disappointing.  Very uneven film, in terms of acting, pacing, editing, and non sequiturs.  Too bad.  Since it didn't start until 8:30pm, we went home first.  I watched "Supertroopers" which was on IFC.  Wait, I need to backtrack even more.  Around 3:30pm we got an email at work that there was going to be a barbecue picnic type happy hour on the second level.  A film got greenlit and they were celebrating.  Since I hadn't eaten lunch, I was pretty glad about the whole thing.  I ate two hot dogs, corn on the cob and some chips, and downed two beers and a lemonade mojito.  Good times.  So I got home and was feeling good, so to continue the fun feeling, I drank another beer while watching "Supertroopers".  That movie is so funny.  I love it so. 

Then we get to the John Ford Amphitheater.  A huge chunk of the seats were reserved for Paramount people.  I'm like uh-oh, this is an industry screening.  It was part of the LA Film Festival for some reason.  I'm not really sure why they showed it.  So as we walk in, we bump into half of Broken Lizard.  Now, when you're a little tipsy and you see people that you just watched on tv, it's like the most extraordinary thing in the world.  I was like, that's wild.  A few minutes ago they were on a screen and now they're live right in front of me.  What are the odds?  Oh right, I live in LA.  In fact, here's a list of comedy people I saw waltzing in: Bob Odenkirk, Chris Tallman, Chester Tam, Bill Hader, Todd Bishop, Jonah Hill, and many others that I can't seem recall at the moment.  The Broken Lizard dudes that I saw were Erik Stolhanske, Kevin Heffernan, and Steve Lemme.

And then I noticed that one of the LA Film Festival volunteers that was directing people to the reserved seats was none other than the person I detest the most from Columbia College Chicago.  I won't name names, but while waiting for the film to begin, I was pretending to squish her head with my fingers.  What a fucking cunt.  That girl is a menace.  Republican, carries a gun, mean-spirited, fucking lunatic.  I still have her business card in my wallet.  I hadn't seen that bitch in three years and all the hatred came rushing back.  She uses people.  Ugh.  Despicable being, barely even human.  I had hoped she had high-tailed it back to Chicago after being fired from a production company that she had told everyone she'd be running in a year.  Ha ha ha ha.  Lamewad.

Finally, after waiting FOREVER, Akiva Schaffer (the director) and Andy Samberg came onstage and gave a little speech.  Something about the sound not being completely mixed and the color correction not done.  Also, there were no credits at the end, only a title card that said "End Credits Here" which I thought was better than having to sit through any more of that shit.  I don't mean to completely trash the film.  There were some really funny moments, but overall it was weak and poorly made.

The "theater" was an open air one and they served alcohol.  So people thought they had the right to fucking talk throughout the film.  I can't think of anything more annoying.  And nearby there was a girl who would sigh throughout the whole film.  I hadn't heard one of those in years.  Fucking sighers.  Makes no sense.  If I had my way, I'd be watching the film alone in a giant theater like the Dome.  But of course, I can't afford to buy out a theater for myself yet.  One day...

Prediction for today: the person I'm assisting will leave for the afternoon.  Today was supposed to be my last day.  Ha.  Ha ha ha.  Aw...  It looks like two more weeks.  I can't do more than that anyway.  I's got some shootin' to do, y'all.   Yeppers.  If not the Heinz dealies, then the CC dealy.  Oh boy.

1 July

Just a quick blog.  It's Sunday, the neighbors are having a BBQ.  It sounds like there are more dogs than people, and it's not sounding very friendly.  And so, I took a shower and am going to walk to the farmer's market on Ivar.  I have no money, so my plan is to eat the free fruit samples.  Yep.

Yesterday was spent attempting to set up a short shoot for the Converse thing.  Since it was randomly windy, the green screen acted as a sail.  It repeatedly fell over the car, so we had to take it down and try again another time.  This is all very annoyiing as I've been waiting for months to get this shot.  Apparently, the convertible lost battery power and we had to move it ourselves to set up the green screen.  I think I may have sprained something in my right hand.  It hurts a lot.

We haven't used the convertible since the beginning of the year.  The local cats use it as a hang-out.  The thing is covered in paw prints which is just ridiculously cute.  Since it's covered in dust, sometimes they like to jump over to the other car and smear it with dusty paw prints too.  It's still cute, but makes it harder to drive.  I went around and didn't see any cat activity on any other car.  I don't know why they like ours.  Also, both cars are covered in cat hair which I think is just hilarious, because Rick is allergic.

Last night, we emptied the fridge of old stuff, like salads and pasta sauces that had been opened and used once six months ago.  It became very clear that we had no food despite the fact that we had just gone to effin' Trader Joe's last week.  So off to Pavilions we went.  I had stumbled upon an odd French recipe which called for ground beef.  It was this sort of tart.  You lay a pie crust down on a pie pan, put the raw ground beef (about half a pounf) that has been mixed with four egg yolks on the bottom, top it with cut tomatoes and onions that have been slightly fried on a pan, top that off with a couple of handfuls of grated swiss cheese, and place in the oven for about 20-25 min. on 375 degrees.  Kind of odd, but pretty good.  If I ever made it again, I'd spice the meat up with oregano or something like that.

I bought one of those tomatoes that look black on the inside.  I'm excited.  Last time I had eaten one, it was delicious.  I have high hopes for this one.  We'll see, or rather taste.  Oh shit, June is OVER.  Happy July 1st...  Time sucks.

2 July

My college roommate got married this weekend.  I'm really happy for her.  Good stuff.

Sunday, I indeed walked to the Farmer's Market, ate a bunch of fruit samples and waltzed on over to The Juice Fountain on Hollywood/Vine and shared a delicious juice.  Their stuff is so good.  It's a small, dingy-looking mom-and-pop juice place.  None of that Pinkberry or Jamba Juice nonsense atmosphere.  I hate those places.  Then I walked through the market again.  I noticed someone selling my favorite berries in the world, groseilles.  Rare in this country, however I had no cash on me.  With some luck, next week, that stand will have some again.  I have got to get my summer groseilles fix.

My grandmother has a bunch of groseilles bushes in her garden.  My cousines and I spent our summers picking those berries.  We'd eat them like that or make tarts or this crazy syrup.  Oh man, they defined my summers in France. 

Anywho, after getting home, we chilled for a while, then went to Ikea in Burbank.  There we stopped off at Macy's (ugh) where Rick FINALLY found some sunglasses.  It's been over six months since he lost his last pair which I always thought looked dumb anyhow.  They're Fossil brand with polarized black lenses and a silver frame.  And to his pride, they were on sale, 25% off! Whatever.  Good for him.  So we bought somewhat unnecessary things at Ikea (got some Xmas shopping done though).  And when we left, I suddenly realized that I had gotten majorly sun burnt.  My shoulders, upper back and upper chest region is red.  Oddly enough my arms were not affected and my face is barely red.  This sucks.  So, it's been an Aloe Vera couple of days. 

What else...  Watched Entourage and Flight of the Conchords.  The former was actually hilarious with the whole rim job dealy.  The latter was better than the last, but still not as great as the first episode.   They really need to come up with new songs, instead of rehashing the stuff they had already created prior to the show.  It feels like they're trying to piece together storylines around those old songs, instead of the other way around.  All in all though, it's still fun to watch.  By the by, when the hell are we going to get some new Tim & Eric?

Monday Monday Monday.  What can I say?  I was given a small project to do by another department which I wrapped up in an hour's time.  There's more to it, but they don't want to do anything until Thursday, or possible Friday.  Lame.  Of course, the woman I'm assisting left for the afternoon.  What a shocker.  And so, I've been sitting here, bored.  Waiting.

I'm also waiting on an email.  An important email to let us know whether we'll be shooting something the week of July 16 or not.  If we are, then we have to reschedule another series of shoots.  I have a feeling that I won't get anything resolved until late tomorrow at the earliest.  It's pretty annoying really.  This is something we've been waiting to get shot since November.  And if we get the okay, then I've got to buy a plane ticket for our DP.  We're flying him in from Chi-town.  He's the awesomest to work with.  He'll be eventually moving to LA, hopefully before the end of the year.

I think my hormones are acting up.  Earlier today I felt incredibly happy like I had a secret, but it was so well kept that even I didn't know about it.  And then I felt depressed.  All this without reason, nothing crept into my mind to make me feel one way or the other.  I often hate having the body of a female.  So much nonsense goes on in there that I can't control.  It sucks.  For some reason that reminded me that I watched "Audition" over the weekend.  I'm still in shock at some of those scenes.  But I have to say, it was good.  And what a satisfying ending.  It could've easily petered out into nonsense, but nope, it was solid.  Good times

Week of 18 June 2007

18 June

This is odd.  It says I've posted a blog today when I haven't and nothing seems out of the ordinary.  Spam, perhaps?  Meh.  Let me know if you see something dated today that I don't.

Anywho, yesterday I walked to Starbucks on the lot.  It's a bit of a maze to get to the bridge through the ABC building.  I wasn't expecting that.  From the bridge, the traffic is incredibly loud.  You can see the graveyard in the distance too.

Ever since meeting celebrities that I never thought I would meet, I've developed the strange feeling that it's okay to now have a crush on one.  Because I'm oddly enough part of that world.  These people have become approachable.  I don't actually have a crush on a celebrity, but it doesn't seem like something completely futile now.

Anywho, still undecided on which Bukowski book to read, so I'm continuing to reread Hesse's fairy tales.  I like "The Dwarf", it's unexpected.

So bored...  How many weeks are left?  Um...  Three including this one.  I hate it when I want time to go by quickly.  It means that I'm wasting it.

Can't think of anything productive to do.  And I know that as soon as I go home, I'll think of a million things I could be doing here.  For example, I need to research some Santa Monica stuff, so I can write an article for a Santa Monica paper, so that I can get a valid press pass and get into Comic-Con for free in July.  I know, what a scam.  It's either that or volunteer at the event and that's a four-day commitment.  I'm not sure I can afford a four-day stay in San Diego. 

It's not until recently that I wished I had longer fingers.  My hands are the size of a ten-year old child's.  It's definitely not noticeably freaky or anything.  In fact, many people have small hands, it's just I wish I had long, graceful fingers.  You know, the kind for piano-playing.  I knew a girl with small hands who was a piano prodigy.  She played so intensely and was so lost in it, she'd lose since of time.  She's stop only when her hands would cramp to the point that she couldn't move her fingers.  Hearing her play was incredible though.  In Philly, I volunteered at a thrift-for-aids shop and one time they got a piano to sell.  The girl went to it and played in the window.  All sorts of people started coming in.

Music is strange the way it puts you in whatever mood it dictates to you.  There is some music that gives me a sort of vague a l'ame that I never feel otherwise.  Having emotions that I would never have is just such a sickening, yet exhilarating experience.  All of Debussy's music gives me this creepy feeling that I can escape, like a deer caught in the headlights, feeling impending doom, but unable to move.  Afternoon of a Faun is the topper.  That music stirs something frightening in me, something that just isn't right.

Earlier I had written a very long blog detailing one of my recent fantasies to elucidate what I mean by fantasy at all.  It was very honest and I felt as though I were revealing certain secrets.  And then, everything disappeared.  I should've been angry.  Instead I felt like I had suffered a great loss, something important.  In a way though, I was relieved, because as I was writing it all out, I realized how my fantasies tend to peter out.  Also, they're very oddly shaped, usually because I don't have enough information at hand about the person I fantasize.  I have imagine conversations and actions and after a while, I get lazy.  I just don't know where to take it next and am glad for a distraction to get me out of this thought process. 

Another thing I wrote about was why I was attracted to a certain someone.  It's a really weird reason.  They have a physical likeness to someone I admire and love.  Someone who is like a soul sibling whose intelligence and emotion are akin to mine.  When we're together, our ideas and ideals merge and become greater than just the two combined.  What we lack is any kind of physical attraction.  First off, I've never found him attractive, and secondly, he's gay.  So, I find it odd that these physical traits that I find unattractive in my friend is what is attracting me to this guy.  The traits remind me of my friend and so I project a certain idealism to this person.  In truth, if he did embody even half of what my friend is, he would be like "the one" for me.  Of course, it's all idealism and fantasy.  In reality, I'm sure I'd be greatly disappointed.  And so, should I continue to nurture this little crush or just squash it to save some time?  I do rather enjoy slipping into this other reality and imagine insanities, even if they do peter out into stupid, incomprehensible nothings.  Sigh...

20 June

Well well well.  Another day of utter uselessness is upon me.  It took a while for me to get into the shower this morning.  I kept staring at nothing and thinking of random bits of fiction.  And so, for the first time at this job, I got to work five minutes late.  Since the woman I assist (ha ha ha) comes in at 8:30am, I thought she might notice, and it got me a little worried.  So, at 9:05am I waltz to my desk and notice her door closed and no light was coming through.  I figure she might be coming in a little later.  It happens.  I turn on the computers, listen to see if there's any voicemail messages.  There were none, as usual, there are rarely any calls.  And I check the emails.  There's one from her.  She's on vacation today.  She won't be taking any calls from her cell.  She asks me to print out this excel sheet movie game that she plays with people every summer in the industry.  I was looking at the emails listed, pretty impressive group, from Paramount to DreamWorks to Newline to Pixar to Sony to NBC Universal and even the Weinstein Co.  Hilarious.  Nearly one hundred people, mostly lawyers from what I can tell. 

Anywho, today my job sums up into one function, be an answering machine, because of course, the actual voice mails can't do the job.  Well, they'll have to when I go to lunch.  Fuck it, do I really need to even be here?  I could probably go home and no one would notice.  This is sick.  I'm going to go drown my sorrows in cereal.

But first, let me talk about Cheesy Potatoes.  Rick made that dish last night.  It's a recipe that his mother got off some magazine years ago.  It is delicious, but will kill anyone's stomach for days to come.  It is made of frozen hash browns baked with a pound of velveeta cheese, 8 oz. of sour cream, a can of cream of chicken soup, 8 oz. of melted butter, and topped with fried onions.  It's so fucking full of animal fat that it even grosses me out.  I eat it anyway though.  It's sick.  And now I feel sick.  My digestive system feels very delicate right now.  And all I want to do is assault it with a bitter mocha and some cereal.  Goddamn ridiculous.  I'm wondering if I'm not trying to make myself feel worse just to distract from my incredible boredom.

I picked "Women" out of the two Bukowski books I was considering.  So far it's good.  He doesn't disappoint though.  I even like his poetry and I'm not a poetry fan in general.  I don't know why.  Poetry and I never really hit it off.  I read it, but can't really visualize it.  And I've tried, I took poetry classes, read and compared tons of poems, but I still can't get into them.  What can I say, I like things written in prose better. 

21 June

I'm about halfway through Bukowski's "Women".  It's good.  Really good.  I love how he writes sex, definitely a turn on.

Well, at "work".  The "boss" isn't in, of course.  I think she's at a doctor's appt. until noon.  And then I'm sure it'll be lunch time, you know... 

Yesterday, I was persuaded that it was Thursday.  I was so disappointed when I got home and realized that it was Wednesday.  Last night, I watched the first half of "Howl's Moving Castle".  I should take it off my Netflix.  Lots of shit on my Netflix queue comes up on cable.  Speaking of which, I need to get rid of Showtime.  We rarely watch it and it's costing too much.  The only two good things on there are "Penn & Teller's Bullshit" which is funny most of the time, although not always correct, and Ira Glass' "This American Life" which is quite excellent.  HBO has the better films.  And I never watched "The Tudors".  I can't believe it.  What kind of JRM fan am I?  I just don't care about that era.  I can't get into that time period.  I don't know why.

Alright, I'm going to listen to some random Weezer and space out for a while.
Someone came up to my desk and asked if I were the one they saw reading "Women".  I picked up the book and said "Yes, it was I!"  The man, for it was a man in his late 30s/early 40s, then proceeded to recommend another author, John Fante, and that I should start by reading "Ask the Dust".  And so, I thanked him, hopped onto Amazon and bought it.  Good times. 

I always think it's strange when people recognize me.  I have a common face, one that can be easily confused for someone else's.  I don't know why.  It bugs me, but at the same time, it gives me the illusion that I'm not recognizable.  Apparently, that's not true.  I like the idea of anonymity.  It's a form of freedom.

Rick told me that he wanted to read Kafka's "The Trial".  I remember reading that book a few years ago.  Pfft...  Maybe at least six years ago.  My father still had this house in Chamonix right by a bridge.  People who walked by could see into the living room.  When I stayed there for the summer, the room under the roof was mine.  It was small and hot and sloping, meaning that unless you were in the center of it, you could not stand up straight.  Very constricting, but I liked that.  And it was in those conditions that I read that book.  It seemed right.  I told Rick that one had to prepared to read that kind of book.  It was so tense and it played on my fears perfectly.  My greatest fear being trapped, stripped of freedom, and realizing that there is no escape possible at all.  But then I realized, that's my fear.  I asked Rick what his was.  At first he said being alone.  Really?  Then he said failure.  Ah.  I wonder.

I think I would rather be miserable, but free, than comfortable and dependent.  Fuck that.

It's funny reading "Women".  I understand that world better than my own.  It makes more sense to me.

I've been thinking about crushes.  My first crush was in Cambodia, I was ten years old.  His name was Frederic.  Up until then, I thought boys to be ridiculously stupid and wanted nothing to do with them.  And then, for a moment I thought he might like me.  I can't even recall the incident.  Maybe he said something defending me.  I couldn't get that out of my head and I slowly began to get intrigued.  What could this mean?  I saw him in a different light.  Who was he really?  Knowing nothing about how to approach someone, I started to try to get closer to him in small ways.  At the time, we both attended this French school.  We were nine kids total in our class that combined two grades, fourth and fifth.  I was the smartest, as usual.  Ho hum.  So, I helped him with his homework, and got his help during sports.  His father managed the impressive Hotel Cambodiana.  It was a huge luxury hotel with a beautiful pool.  Our teacher, Monsieur Porchet, worked out a deal where every Wednesday morning, we'd go there for swimming lessons for two hours.  Because Frederic had access to that pool all the time, he swam better than anyone else.  I was in awe.  Sometimes I'd be mean to him to get his attention.  I think it was also out of fear.  When you don't know what the hell you're doing, you tend to end up doing really stupid things.  I think he liked me too, but we never really did anything about it.  He was afraid too. 

I had a dream, in fact this may be what started things off, dreams usually do that for me.  I dreamt that the class was on this jungle island and we had to swim to another island.  No one really wanted to swim, because it looked like a really long distance.  Frederic went and I followed.  When we got there, he was waiting for me.  He led me to a secluded area where there was a flat rock.  It was really beautiful the way the sun shone through the thick canopy.  We sat next to each other and he kissed me.  And then he left.  I ran, but could not find him.  I saw that he was halfway back to the first island.  The water had become very choppy and I was afraid to swim through it.  But he wouldn't come back to help.  And then I woke up.  From then on, I had fantasies where a little more happened than just kissing, but my imagination of such things was limited at the time.

The school year ended, we left Cambodia.  He was in my mind for the entire summer months, but when I started school in LA at LILA, I was to be consumed by this incredible love I had for another boy, Nicolas.  That was a sickness that lasted years.  In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it still subconsciously clouds my judgement about guys to this day.  What can I say?  Nicolas was the ultimate guy; athletic, intelligent, arrogant, the funniest kid in school, respected, a beautiful face, and he liked me.  And I didn't believe him.  Not one bit.  There was no way the perfect guy liked me, I mean hello, did he not see what I looked like?  Afraid of being made a fool, I eternally rejected him, but secretly wanted him more than I could even put in words.  One time, he, his best friend, this girl and I played truth or dare during lunch.  He asked and afraid I'd have to admit anything, I chose dare.  He dared me to kiss him on the lips.  I refused and after much debate, I ended up compromising by kneeling down and kissing his shoe.  I think that sums up nicely my insanity.  In fact, I wasn't to really kiss a boy until past 18. 

What torture those two years were.  And then the years afterwards, where I refused all and any advances, because in my heart I belonged to Nicolas, even though I was on the opposite coast.  Ridiculous.  To think, I could've had a senior as a boyfriend freshman year of high school...  A very intelligent guy, maybe not the most attractive, but definitely not ugly.  I think also the fact that he was three years older than me kind of freaked me out.  When we first met, he thought I was a junior who had transferred into the school.  Ha.  It's not that I look older, I just behave that way.  Even now.  I wonder how old people think I am. 
 
You know, after Nicolas, everyone has paled in comparison.  It's disgusting.  Tainted perception.  To think, the idealistic memory of a twelve year old boy still haunts me today.  I'm sure though, if I met him today, he'd be just some asshole who's too good-looking for his own good.

Hot guys, what does that even mean anymore?  In 2002, I was completely infatuated with this really hot waiter from a local restaurant.  He was a white guy with dreadlocks and sported them well, unlike most white guys with dreadlocks.  I would have never permitted myself to even think of him in an amorous manner had he not flirted with me first.  After that I was hooked.  I wasted away to less than 120 lbs.  I drank heavily.  I was posessed.  He looked like a god among men.  The closer I tried to get to him, the further he'd get away.  So I'd stop trying and suddenly he'd flirt with me again.  Fucking torture.  He was so beautiful.  After three months of this ridiculous give-and-take, I stopped going to that restaurant altogether.  I was so heart-broken that I swore off beautiful men.  All the experiences I had up until then with really good looking guys had ended with incredible heartache.  I couldn't take it anymore.

In fact, it was all heartache.  I always felt like I had crushes on impossible dreams.  And so caught up was I in this false idealistic world that I rarely saw those who did want me.  I was blinded by my own chase.  Those poor boys whom I rudely rejected, they were few, but I'm sorry anyways.  And those I didn't even know about, I'm sorry too, but you should've been more forthcoming.  I never assume that people notice me or even want to know me.  I do assume that everyone thinks I'm probably a bitch to be avoided.  People have to be really obvious for me to notice.  It sucks, but it's true.

I'm sorry for the wasted years.  I'm sorry for not having been in a relationship until past 18.  I'm sorry for rejecting a certain boy, because another girl had a crush on him and I didn't want to deal with the inevitable drama.  Plus, I was scared, because I hadn't had a boyfriend and didn't want to embarrass myself.  I'm sorry that now that I've been with someone for nearly five years, I'm still not able to admit I have a boyfriend.  He deserves better and I deserve nothing.  I'm a terrible person to be with, cruel and demeaning.  I'm demanding and unfair, but I can also be giving, resourceful, serviable and overly generous.  I flip-flop all the time in everything, my opinions, what I decide to remember, how I treat that person.  Sigh...

I think I might enjoy living in my dreams better.  Maybe I should stick with that.  Ideally, I'd have my own place and people could come and go as they pleased in my life.  But people want a lot more from me and I am forced to give in a bit, even though it kills me inside.  Re-sigh...

22 June

I heard that the budget on "Evan Almighty" was $175 million.  Has Universal Pictures gone retarded?  That is not the kind of film that you place your bets on.  I mean come on...  It looks terrible and particularly stupid.  It barely has more appeal than "Norbit".  And frankly what the hell did they spend on?  Those gawdy special effects?  Ick.  Sorry, I don't mean to shit all over this film that I haven't even seen yet, but come on, $175 million?  Does anyone remember "Titanic" and how unbelievable the then budget of $200 million was?  But then you could see