So I forgot about the shoplifter

Apparently, last Friday a shoplifter was arrested in our neighborhood who had stole from us too. I get on to work just as a CPD officer has him in his car outside our store, and manages to get our manager to file a complaint, so that the perp could go to jail. They took some polaroids and asked around if people remembered him, but I had just gotten there so no. However, my coworker Shavahn remembered him, and she had gotten him to sign up for a our catalogs. That's right the criminal mastermind gave us his address and contact info. Wonderful.

Random Street Sighting

Yesterday, of the ex-boyfriend. It was hilarious. We were driving down the street (my roommates and I) on our way to a wedding (Congratulations Mr. & Mrs. Kristy and Mike Hayden), looking all fabulous, when Renee sees him come out of a building. Her immediate (and out loud response) is, "Oh my God!" which of course prompts Janna to say, "What!?". Since Renee couldn't come up with appropriately believable misdirection, she copped to seeing Patrick.

This is where it gets good. He is walking with ex-girlfriend/new girlfriend, and his parents or somebody's older people. I am sitting in the backseat as we creep down the street (due to traffic instead of curiosity) while they walk the same direction that we are going, and I am trying not to look or stare so there can be discomfort avoided if perchance he notices us in the car (except of course I take a good look at what she looks like). Janna and Renee are openly staring, and there response goes something like this, "Oh, she is not okay!" in reference to the girlfriend. Hilarious!!! I am laughing, they are gawking. Two guys walking down the street behind ex-boyfriend and entourage are noticing our staring and gawking. Very funny.

Then we went to the wedding and ate (some amazing fried chicken!) and drank a little and talked with friends and had wedding good timey-ness. But, I won't ever forget, "Oh, she is not okay." That one is tucked securely in the self-esteem bank. I love my roommates.

A blog in two parts

Part one: I saw a sneak peek of Borat yesterday--the whole movie for free. Cohen and I don't really hang out in the same comedy, he is either too gross-out for me or way, way too edgy (I am hopelessly uncool) and that movie has both. If you like his comedy, you'll love it (oh my God does he complete the jokes Al), but I just wasn't completely with it. I am glad I saw it right around the build up of the hype, but I am also so glad I didn't pay for it.

Then I snuck into The Departed which fucking ruled. That movie was great! One of the best things I have seen in theatres for a long time. It was an hour+ longer then Borat and felt shorter. Loved Leo and Matt Damon (well hated Matt Damon, but was supposed to--loved getting to hate him), loved Vera Farmiga, loved x 1,000 Alec Baldwin and Marky Mark, and adored Martin Sheen. This movie was brutally violent and hilarious within breaths. So much audience laughter from tension relief! Was so angry at one point I was trembling and tearing up with rage. I think you should all go immediately to your nearest theatre and see it. I am going to probably see it again, since Scorcese should have my money for it. Go see it.

Part Two: I went on a field trip to a pumpkin patch with my roomate (Janna, the teacher) and her class of 1-3 grade special ed kids. Our other roomate (Renee) and I were the chaperones, and it was great. According to the kids Renee is really cool, and Janna and I have red hair like the little mermaid. Also on the trip a group of Preschoolers. Little kids were amazed that we all wore Chuck Taylors (they wore black, I green). They kept telling us all day. It was hilarious. Actually, little kids are hilarious. It was a good day, and I got to color and take a nap on my desk. Hopefully next month I will get to go to the circus.

My weekend got better

I went to a bachelorette party at a drag show in downtown Chicago. Well, it started at my friend's house (the bachelorette) and we ate some good food and drank some good drink. Then we saw a drag show with some phenomenal looking queens, and an overwhelmingly female audience. It was very strange. Fun, but strange. Then we went dancing in another neighborhood in Chicago (it was a drinking on the 'el kind of a party), and danced and danced so much I am sore from dancing. It was great! Then I walked home in the rain. Weekends rule!

Also, I have an idea for an actual book to write. Will be working on that--not a novel.

I am in sinus fucking hell

My brain feels like it is full of sludge that is sitting on a ledge immediately behind my eyebrows and dripping slowly down behind my nose. Plus there is weird pressure on the back of my head too. Yea! I took my allergy meds, and now I think I must sleep and hope that fixes it.

Not a whole lot

Going on. I go to the pumpkin patch next week, and in November I may get to go to the circus as a chaperone. That would be awesome--especially if Jesse Highley is still a clown with Ringling.

Must go, Grey's may continue this later.

This is the continuing bit. Anyway, not so much with the excitement in my life lately, but I guess that is good since there is plenty of bad excitement that could be making my life awful (hypothetically, not actually).

The big post from a few days ago (Being a grown-up) is in a series of essay/column style writing that I have been at lately. No idea what I am going to do with it, but I seem to be full of it. (Alan stop laughing at me). Thinking about some sort of spoken word performance something, but not really sure what that would even look like except me standing there telling my stories--however there is obvious danger there with an entire evening of me performing and never actually finishing a single story. There you go.

Good Grey's though. Sad that Callie had to be mean to George, even sadder that he needed it. Too bad McSteamy and she didn't keep it going--not that I thought there was a snowball's chance in hell that they would.

I am a sad, sad little nerd

I read this blog called A List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago, and I occasionally post in the comments section. Well, Shonda Rhimes (the creator/showrunner of Grey's Anatomy) reads and contributes to it as well, and in a thread bemoaning the loss of opening credits and theme songs to title cards I mentioned that Grey's may just have been running long this season and title-carded it in order to give them 30 more seconds of more show. Then Shonda posted right after me saying that was why. Then I ruined it by being a nerd and saying how awesome it was that shonda commented on something I said. Yeah, that kind of made my day. Click here and read the thread entitled Now Sit Right Back and You'll Hear a Tale--don't forget to check the comments. I have gone with the incredibly clever handle of Heather.

Being a Grown up

I guess that that's what I am, or it is becoming more and more apparent that even if I have a Hello Kitty wallet, the ID inside it says I am 27. Face it, my high school 10-year reunion is this summer, and it has made me reflect upon several things.

Like the fact that it is unlikely that I will be married before I am 30. That is two and a half years away, and I have no marriage prospects--no matter how the current fantasy of me, Henry Rollins, and an Elvis impersonater in a chapel in Las Vegas plays out (still a fantasy and NOT reality).

The thing is, I don't feel like I am missing anything in my life. I don't feel like my single status makes me less of a person or even that it defines me in any sort of negative way. I like being just me. I like that I never have to consider other people when I make my plans. When I watch a movie, I never have to think will Joe-bob (or other hypothetical significant other's name here) be upset that I saw "The Departed" without him? I can just go out on the spur of the moment and meet friends and never have to worry that I am interfering with someone else's plans for 'our' night. My life is entirely my own, and I like it that way, and I like my life.

But I have no context with which to discuss my life with my family. I don't have a career. I have a job which I keep saying I will change but I never do anything to change. I am not even pursuing my "passion" (in quotes since I have not felt very passionate about it in a while); I don't even go see theatre anymore. I don't have a boyfriend, and I don't have dates, and I am not doing anything about that since I mostly don't care. (Note, I say mostly don't care because 95% of the time the only thing I really miss about not being in a relationship is the fact that when you are in a relationship you can generally count on getting laid on a very regular basis--when single much more work is involved in getting laid each individual time). My family understands pursuing careers and husbands and children, but they don't understand just hanging out or living life. They can forgive it for a few years because I am the artistic, eccentric one, but they still ask me if I am seeing someone or when I am going to get a serious job (although they generally phrase that one something like, "Wouldn't you like a more regular job that maybe paid a little better?"). My answers baffle them. They can't understand why I don't look for a man or a career or both, and it often makes me feel like I should be looking for those things or like there is something wrong with me for not being interested in those things.

Is there something wrong with me? I don't think that there is. But if I had told 16-year-old me that there was no way I would be married at 30, 16-year-old me would've been appalled. How could I never have met someone by 30? What the hell happened to me?

Nothing happened to me. Or nothing bad, I guess lots happened to me. I have met several someones. Many of them very nice, but none of them for me or not for me forever. Even the love of my life (so far) wasn't someone I could see myself marrying. Yes, for a while, I did see myself ending up with Patrick, but I think that was part 16-year-old me seizing her last chance to nest and part me being high on falling for someone and coming out of a depression all at once (so the run of the mill falling for someone new felt more significant in contrast to the feeling like crap while I was depressed). I still think I am a perfectly nice person. I am intelligent, pretty, funny, quirky, and obviously not humble in any way.

I am a catch, but I don't think I am for everyone. I recognize that I tend to freak people (men) out. I am a little more then most of them bargain for, and I would rather be alone then with someone I have to gentle my image up for. That's why I probably won't be married at 30 and may not be married ever. But that isn't cause for alarm. I like my solitary life, and I wouldn't trade it for an unsatisfactory partner or even a satisfactory partner. I am a special case, and I want someone special. If a good man is hard to find, I imagine a special one may never be found, but that is okay. I can be just me forever. I know I like it. Unless Henry Rollins wants to give me a call. He seems like a special case.

No comments about ninjas?

Really? But it was real. We have ninjas at pier 1. I was a little loopy today at work due ot an exhausintg truck and a sub driver who was much younger and flirtier then our usual driver (who was with wife visiting the grand kids). He pretty much flirted shamelessly with Laura and I the whole time, although he was kind of a tool.

Also, work is less fun then it used to be unless our head boss is there. This is weird because it used to be more fun without here, and now she keeps the annoying new management types at bay. The old management types are still great, but the new ones have issues when left completely in charge. Mostly annoyingness issues and issues treating us like very tiny children who speak no english. Like they forget that our pier one does not in fact employ high schoolers but older types who have it as their main job and have college degrees.

Had the strange thought that I think I would like working towards an MBA if pier one would pay for it. Probably will pass with the rain. Wouldn't that be strange. Boy would my parents be relieved.

"Excuse me, I need room for me and my ninjas."

My friend Kristy said this to me at work today in all seriousness. There was no joking because he had boxes of these crazy decorative ninja statues that pier 1 is selling right now. It was pretty awesome. Who else had legitimate ninja conversations today? That is what I thought.

I am totally suffering from some weird insomnia. Plus two things have happened lately to make me feel really old and kind of unfulfilled or unfinished. One, I keep getting my space messages looking for my info for my 10 year reunion next summer. I feel like I should be thinner or more successful for it, but I guess there is some time to fix that between now and then, assuming that I go (not sure about that just yet). Second, a little girl I used to babysit (and is now a college freshman) has been posting songs she has written onto her my space music page, and they are kind of amazing. So amazing that one is now my profile song and also in heavy rotation on the new ipod of so many earlier posts. There she is learning guitar and writing songs, and here I am sitting on my ass watching dvds of the west wing and lots of mindless TV (I watched NCIS in real time yesterday).

I feel like I am a creative person--obviously with the acting, but also with the sewing and lately I seem to have found a latent talent for table setting and floral arrangements. I have been trying a hand at being a memoirist, and I want to write a play that me and my friends here in Chi-town could put on here and be fucking brilliant in. However, I don't get around to doing much--except when people ask for place settings and floral arrangements at work (where I help bitchy mavens of Lincoln Park dress up a room or a table on the cheap). I just want to get motivated to stick with something, anything, enough to follow through to a first draft or mock up and then even further to a final project, but I just don't care enough to get past hard. I just don't. I think that I used to. One time I did care about things enough to devote all my time to them. Now, I am obsessed with watching my favorite TV shows and reading my favorite blogs. Not so much an achievement. Where's my freaking fire?

Sidebar: why can't spell checker on a blog recognize the word blog or its plural?

Couldn't sleep and watched west wing

I just could not go to sleep to save my soul last night. I couldn't do it. Just lie there and lie there. It totally sucked. Anyway, then I went to the zoo today, and it was better. There were baby piggies and baby meerkats, and it was awesome. The meerkats (adult and baby) were being fed and they were scampering all over the place and one even tugged on the pant leg of the zookeeper looking for food. Meerkats are awesome.

I have one

An ipod. I have a nano, and it has songs on it and a podcast, and it makes me happy. Margaret, I tend to agree with you; something makes me want to put it in my mouth. I have not put it in my mouth, but I have thought about it. I plan to curl up with it tongiht in bed and let it sing me to sleep.

Ipod soon

I should maybe get a nano in the mail tomorrow. A black one. I am way excited. That is all I know, and really care about for the time being.

Comment jibberish

I have my blog set so that people who comment must pass the prove they are human and not spam test. However, I find it weird that I have to pass it to comment on my own blog. I understand why I would have to sign in, but I don't get why I would have to pass the human test. It is me. It is my blog. Of course I am human. The info is alredy connected to them through my computer. Seriously? All right whatever. Need to be productive today. Probably going to apply to teach some theatre to kiddies today. We'll see how that goes.

Feel free to mock me

Two things. First, I get to vote at Powell's Bookstore--that is my polling place. Unfortunately Pacific Northwesters, it is a little imposter faker store and not the grand glorious Powell's Books of Portland fame.

Second, I think I am more then a little in love with Henry Rollins. He is smart and funny and passionate about his views, kind of a big nerd, and a little crazy--plus totally hot. Because of these sentiments, my roommates think I am insane. It is the topic of mocking Heather in the apartment right now. They can't get over it. It just makes them laugh and laugh and laugh. Feel free to join them in mocking me, or better yet agree with me, that would be cool too.

PS I realize I hve no chance at all with Henry Rollins no matter how well read I am. Fantasy, reality, not at all the same things.

Please leave feedback

Whoa, so I haven't posted in almost a week, and I have no good reason why. I journaled a little bit (on actual paper with an actual pen using *gasp* penmanship) because it was stuff that might make my blog too confessional--I know, probably too late for that, but I am trying to normal it up, or something. Nothing big, just thoughts and stuff. Nothing significant that I haven't shared with you all out in cyberspace, and I totally love that my dear Courtney has been reading this. Awesome!!

Here is the stuff to discuss and leave feedback on. I just finished James Frey's A Million Little Pieces and in it he talks about how he doesn't believe men can be friends with a woman they find attractive (i.e. would want or want to sleep with or the like) and vice versa, not because it was impossible but because it would be too much torture. Therefore only a sadist or someone seriously delusional could/would do that. What do you all think?

I think that I agree. Speaking just of myself, when I have been friends with men I wanted to be more then friends with, I could do it only when they were like married or completely taken in that kind of relationship. If their was any kind of availability with them (even if they were taken), the friendship fizzled out before it got serious because it wasn't fun enough for me to keep up--it was vaguely awful to be just a little close to them and no where near close enough. I haven't been able to stay friends with someone I dated who I still wanted after the break-up, probably because that same awfulness. Again, I open this for discussion in the comment section.