The heat was intense here in Chi-town today. It was great to be really hot--I kind of like it when the weather is like that (as long as I can get some respite), but it was so hot walking maybe 20 blocks total in lots of short sections interrupted by air conditioning. It was so hot that the life was sucked from me very rapidly. Rough, I tell ya.
I'm really still alive and about to go on vacation back home for a family reunion.
Also, I moved and my new apartment is really cute, in a way better hood and has central air and heat. This is particularly important because we are in the middle of a heat wave which means the weather icon on my computer has left the little sun behind in favor of a flaming thermometer for tomorrow's forecast. That's right, a flamiing thermometer.
Ummm, sadly nothing exciting happened to me in the last two weeks, but I endeavor to remedy that on said vacation trip home.
That is what I am doing. Also I am avoiding packing to move. Anyway, I may go hang out with Emily or spend the day at home, packing, not packing, and prepping for an audition. It is with the company that I am nuts about, and when I read the description of the audition it was so scary it made my stomach hurt. This makes me think I should do it. Three minutes total, it should be a heightened language classical piece as well as a commentary on that audition by a comic librarian character. The second part should be of my own devising and connect to the actual piece itself in some way making them a seamless piece. Yeah, cool and scary.
On a completely unrelated bent, I feel like I have spent a lot of time lately either freaking out about the future or dwelling on the past. These things have pretty much swallowed up my present lately. Everyone once in a while I get drug into the present as someone invites me to do something with them (a concert or dinner or whatever), but when I am not out or with my friends I am buried in this light form of grief about the future that may or may not be or a strange examination of the past and how it will reflect into that future. This seems like an awful waste of time to me. Well, last night when it occurred to me it kind of pissed me off. Anyway, I don't know. I have decided to go out of my house and do things whenever this whatever strikes me. Just get my ass to the zoo or the library or a park. Just live life and see what happens. I am still young, and I live in an amazing place, so why not enjoy it and quit dwelling on uninspiring fantasy or things that can't be changed anyway.
Whoa, scotch is hard to spell/type when you are the kind of drunk where your arms are floppy. Why, you ask am I drunk on a Sunday night? Good question. You see, I went out for Mexican food with Holly Harper, and I met a margarita who was very large and on the rocks and chock full of tequila, and now my arms are floppy and my lips are buzzy, and I can't spell well.
And I want one. A superman for my very own, and could he please look just like the one in the movie? I really loved the movie. It didn't feel like a 2+hour movie, and Parker Posey rules! Holy shit did she just tear it up, and in scenes she shared with Kevin Spacey. She was all like, "Yeah, that was nice Kevin, the way you just chewed the scenery there, but watch what I do next because it is going to be way better and with way less effort and work because I go skills." Not to say that I thought Kevin Spacey was in anyway bad; he was a great Lex Luthor, but Parker Posey was so good she is in fact the greatest thing since sliced bread. Also, the blondy chic from Win a Date With Tad Hamilton should always be a brunette. She looks way better and could be taken seriously with this look.
Umm, more later because I am sleepy, but I liked it a lot.
I did. Last night I went to a rock show at the Metro here in Chicago--a rather storied venue which is also a really fabulous place for rock shows. Intimate without being tiny, plus I kind of know some of the security guys which always makes you feel cooler.
The bands we saw were all pop-punk sort of bands starting with Army of Freshmen followed by Punchline and Chicago's very own Lucky boys Confusion and ending with Bowling for Soup, and I liked all of the bands who played. My roommates to be are friends with at least some of the guys from Punchline, so they were staying at my house to be that night. My roomies and I then went to the Smartbar right after the show where the drummer caught up with us, and we hung out. Also hanging out at the Smart bar were most of Lucky Boys Confusion and the guitarist (?--because it could have been a base that he was playing and I know jack shit about music) of Bowling for Soup and their various friends and hangers on (this is the part where I felt swanky).
Best story of the night--the men's room door at the smartbar did not fully shut, and where I was sitting looked right in on the first urinal in the restroom. One of my roomies pointed this out, and I thought it was hilarious that I may be seeing someone pee (hilarious and a little weird). Who is the next man to pee? The lead singer of Lucky Boys Confusion is. I saw him pee--only really I saw his back in front of the urinal and I assume he was doing his business.
Anyway, then we went back to our apartment and watched Dazed and Confused with 1/2 of the band Punchline and got into a discussion about the fact that fuck fails to shock as a bad word anymore. Unless you are really sheltered or young, fuck is not exciting, so the new shocking curse word is the c-word (as in C yoU Next Tuesday). It pretty much seldom fails to shock and cause discomfort, so C is the new F. And then I spent the night in a papasan chair.
What I don't understand about this is why? I mean I kind of get why she would design other things then women's clothing--like stemware or something--but mattresses? Does a mattress need a designer? I understand an engineer to make it super soft or sturdy or firm in just the right way, but why a designer? Does it really matter if the fabric it is wrapped in is designer? Wouldn't you think that people who could afford 'designer' mattresses could also afford fancy (or even non-fancy) designer sheets to swath them in. Doesn't everyone puts sheets on their mattresses at which point there is no way to tell if the mattress is designer, generic, or even creepy and bloodstained. Why a Vera Wang mattress? Why?
Seriously, I am tired like sleep was just invented and is the coolest thing ever. Not like exhausted from working hard or anything, just tired and sleepy. Like I never really wake up for anything. There is like maybe an hour or two a day when I am fully awake.
Sidebar. . .I was watching "The Cutting Edge" last night and it occurred to me today that their characters in that movie are way younger then I am right now and that the actors who play them were (then) way younger then me now. Oh my god I am old. I mean not really old, old, but I am old-ish. I am far, far away from my teens. I am really and truly a grown-up and there is no going back. Real life is not just a bad dream that will pass. It will not pass. It is my life now.