And I skipped down the halls of Northwestern Memorial...

Guys, this is it.
My voice is gonna ring throughout the land...

Yesterday, I met with Dr. Amazing. Apparently, he's the guru I should have been seeing this whole time. But I don't even care about all the questions and consults and goose chases anymore. All I care about is that yesterday, it took him about 5 minutes to tell me with total confidence that surgery a) is the absolute best option and b) will make me so. much. better.
My nose is as crowded as a room on hoarders, and Dr. Amazing is going to make me an open air play room. He says he can make big space, and big space = big improvement.
And Dr. Architect will be there, too. He's a perfectionist. And he has great dimples (which is not at all a qualification but is pretty darn endearing).
I've been waiting so long. And you know, I trust both of them. I really, really do.

In just a few more weeks, I will sound like me--not this strange me of the last year, but me...

I really did skip, by the way. : )

Cheat your own adventure...

The other night, I told Badass--
(Gosh, I feel like I should change his name. I'm struck so much more by his kindness than his coolness... I'm aware this is on the list of things you shouldn't say about men--sorry friend. Lucky for him, Sweetass sounds wildly inappropriate, so until I think of something better, Badass will have to do.)
Anyway, I told Badass about how lately, I've been wishing I could press pause, try out a few paths, etc. He said, "Like a choose your own adventure?" I said, "Yes!"
But somewhere on the Red Line ride home, I thought, 'Not like a choose your own adventure.' Because the premise of a choose your own adventure is to choose a path and follow it to an end. Life is already a choose your own adventure. What I want is a cheat code. I want to pause everything, try each of the paths before me, play them through long enough to find out where they'll send me, then come right back to this point with that knowledge, and press play, ready to choose a path based on its result.
This is totally cheating. And it's totally not the way life is supposed to go. We're supposed to just enjoy the journey. But what do we do when we place the pros and cons and gut feelings on a scale, and they never stop teetering? When did I miss the lesson about making blind life choices?
And another thing--if you hate the way a choose your own adventure book ends, you can laugh it off and pick up a new one. Or you can try again. But we're talking about life path importance here...
I believe that one of the great joys in life is the element of surprise that results from not controlling everything. Another is that we have the free will to make our life what we'd like it to be. So when there are too many means to countless endings, and the goal is simply happiness, don't you ever want the cheat code?

At least I feel a song coming on... : )

hammering it out...

First off, hello there T-Cat, follower #6. : )

So... it's been an eventful week.
1) Monday, the awful woman who bought the building (let's call her Building Bitch) put up signs claiming she bought the alley where we park and that renters can only park in the whopping six or so spaces in front of the building. I'm going to look into whether or not it's actually possible to claim a Chicago alley as private property. Meanwhile, she's screwed us over once again. (This story will come into play later--trust me.)
2) And then there was Tuesday. I had a coaching scheduled in the middle of the afternoon. Some of you know I'm chronically early, so I left with plenty of time to get there. I got off the highway and practiced some patience through construction. And then, while cruising through the middle lane headed toward a green light and a clear path in front of me, SMACK. My side mirror slammed into my window, and I realized I'd been hit by a big, white van. Apparently the left turn lane wasn't doing it for him, and blind spot checking is for wimps, so he just plowed right on over. I've never actually been in an accident like this behind the wheel. Last year, I got rear ended while stopped at a red light, and when the light turned green a few seconds later, the driver sped away. So this was my first 'get out and swap info and actually speak to the other party' accident. Anyway, I was fine other than a case of the super adrenaline jitters. The big, white van had a scrape on the bumper. And my poor, two year old baby looks like a giant karate chopped the doors. The Van Man was polite, though he's convinced that the lanes were just so confusing that it's a no fault case. (B.S.) And though I will fight for things to play out in my favor, I was my polite self. I didn't ream him out. I kept my cool and went on my way to a much more positive rest of the day.
3) This brings us to today in the Whole Foods parking lot. I turn down a lane to park, and almost immediately, the driver in the car next to me honks at me to roll down my window. This guy, Mr. Fix It, tells me he works in the Honda body shop by Midway, and he wants me to hire him to fix my car on the side for way less than anyone else will. He gives me an estimate and promises me he can have the car looking like new after 20 minutes of work in the lot. I tell him I need to wait to go through the proper insurance steps so that I know how much Van Man is covering, but when I do have it fixed, I'll be happy to call him first. And I'll call him. And the first thing I'll need to see are his credentials.


And then these three events collided in some deep thinking space of mine...
First of all, the accident... is just weird. This isn't a shocking, new concept or anything. But it always blows my mind how if I didn't leave so early, if I didn't take a different exit than I usually do, if I had merged one car sooner or later, it wouldn't have happened. When it's something positive, we usually work these things out as "meant to be." But am I supposed to assume the same here? So I try to at least learn something from the event. And what I keep focusing on is me afterward. I felt so aware and so shut off at the same time. I'm a lawyer's daughter, taught to say as little as possible in these situations. I know I need information from this guy. I need to hear what he's saying. I need to get all of his information. I need to check it to make sure it looks accurate. I need to keep my cool because this is a man I do not know. I went into full on survival mode. I was still able to check things off the "I know" list, but I was somewhere else. I left some overly polite person to handle the business and left myself processing the reality somewhere else. And you know, Van Man and I were both so polite, I hope I didn't get screwed somewhere in that ordeal. That was my concern today. I don't know Mr. Fix It. And because I don't know him, I have to create some way of assessing whether or not he's trying to scam me or whether he's just a nice guy who saw a mutually beneficial situation. If I trust him, I'm naive, and if I don't, I'm jaded. And that's what I realized today.
I realized that as a nice person, I have to constantly, constantly assess the intentions of every person I meet. I feel completely trampled by Building Bitch on Monday, so Wednesday, I am quick to assume the worst. And I find this fact of my life right now to be really... icky.
I have an aunt who made a choice to stay away from big cities and only live in small towns--communities. And after years of not being able to imagine being so cut off, I got it. She only lives where you know your neighbors, and you know their intentions match yours. She doesn't have to think constantly about whether she is talking to another good human being or one who is trying to take her on a ride toward some sinister plan.
So, a question from this squishy optimist... How do I spot the good ones? As a squishy, I wish I could assume the best in everyone, but I feel like I'm supposed to assume that I should protect myself until they prove themselves innocent. That sounds responsible, and in my business, I think it's somewhat necessary. But it also sounds really... sad... like a really judgmental, pessimistic way to live...
The only solution I've come up with is to use my instincts--I figure most of the time, they should be right. That's the scientific answer for us all, right? What I do know is that I cannot be constantly reminded of how much darkness there is. The answer that I find will have to reconcile responsibility and positivity.
What do you think?

Maybe it's what gets us out of bed each morning...

I was so optimistic this morning... and things just never got rolling the way I thought they would.
It got me thinking about early optimism. In the morning, anything is possible. The day could turn out to be the best of your life. But try as you might, until the hours unravel a bit, you can't know in which direction the day may wander.
Isn't this the same as any relationship?
(If you're an optimist,) When you first meet someone, they've never given you any reason to think they are anything other than the greatest person on the planet. You know there must be a real human in there somewhere, but depending on how guarded the individual may be, you may not see it for a while. You like them without any conflicting feelings. And that time, that time when there is no wrong between two people, it is so special. Because it is so rare.
Some of our greatest relationships revolve around love "in spite of." Our friends flake, our families fight, and we love them more than anything. We love them because we know who they are from top to bottom, and the good stuff far outweighs the other stuff.
I can't say either of these stages is "better" than the other. But I find myself wondering how things may be different for us humans if that "perfect idealist vision" stage lasted longer into every relationship. Or what if that phase didn't exist at all? What if we all met each other, had a first fight, and dove into the real world? Do we need to see that pure goodness first in order to love someone?
And another thing--when you catch that first glimpse of reality, the let down can be a big one, a sigh of relief, or all kinds of in between. Maybe it matters how long that first phase went on. Or maybe it all depends on the people, the actions, the reactions, and all of those other things that try as we might, we can't control.
So, what function does that magical morning optimism serve?
Maybe it's just what gets us out of bed each morning...

Well, that was easy...

Today, in one last ditch effort to alleviate my sinus symptoms before scheduling surgery, I ventured to the burbs to try acupuncture. I drove out to see this Dr. who is trained in both Eastern and Western medicine, giving him a more balanced opinion of how to address an issue. Let's call him The Medicine Man (MM for short).
The Medicine Man is a man of a heavy accent and few words. Shortly after I arrived, he led me to a room and asked me to lie down on the exam bed dealy. After asking me several questions about my history, symptoms, etc. and taking my pulse a few times, he held up a container of needles--it was go time. Now, I've been giving myself my allergy shots for about five years, so I have no problem with needles. But not knowing what to expect, I admit I was a little anxious. So I held my breath as he tapped the first one in. It kind of seemed like he was lining up a blow dart, then tapping a needle into place. The first 'dart' was inserted on the right side of my nose. I could barely feel it. MM proceeded with eight more needles--four more on my face and two on each forearm. They were all placed symmetrically, with the extra one in the middle of my forehead. Some were a little bit uncomfortable, but most of all, there was just the sensation of something "being there." MM centered some kind of heater over my stomach and hands. He worked quietly, and I only knew he was done placing everything because he finally said, "Ok, now you relax for 30-40 minutes."
Um... ok...
So I listened to the plunky guitar music and tried very hard to find relaxation. This was... difficult at first.
The next thing I noticed was that I could see one of the needles in my peripheral vision. MM had placed a needle on each side of my face between my upper lip and nose, where my smile lines live. I could see the left one of of the corner of my eye as if it were a whisker. But the weird part was that it was pulsing with my heartbeat. I could feel it in my chest as I watched it wiggle on my face. I watched that for a while, somewhere between creeped out and fascinated.
I finally started to drift in and out of rest, finding the calm but wanting to stay awake and aware. I let my mind wander, and for a while, I was pretty deep in relaxation.
Then I was wide awake again, wondering how much time had passed. I couldn't see a clock from where I was, and I certainly wasn't going to start moving my head around. So I lay there, wondering if someone would come in soon or if they'd forget and just leave me there all day, later laughing at the needle face girl who didn't know it had been three hours. Oh, my imagination. Some minor keyed, still plunky version of "Green Sleeves" entertained me a bit longer until MM opened the door. He pulled out my whiskers and the other needles--a sensation like someone pulling a thread out of your skin--and asked me how I felt.
Lying on my back in the middle of the day usually makes my head feel like it's going to explode. But honestly, I could breath pretty clearly. I maintained the heavy, 'someone threw a towel into the guitar that is my head' feeling, but the air was passing in and out of my nose better than usual.
MM asked me a few more questions about how I felt, and then the man of few words said the last thing I ever thought he would say.
"I would have the surgery."
My East meets West Medicine Man didn't tell me to take herbs or to see him eight more times before assessing. He told me that my problem can only be cured by "cutting." Of course, he wants me to come back next week with my new CT scan so that he can help me through the rest of the month. And I'll do it. Probably. Because it can't hurt. And right now, I'm already back to Stuffy McStuffertonville.
But I was absolutely not expecting MM to provide such a clear cut answer. Not only do I appreciate his honesty, but I finally feel that I have exhausted every alternative option from around the world. With this puzzle piece, I can be confident that I'm not rushing into a solution, and I'm not choosing the riskier option. I'm choosing the very best one.
So tomorrow, I will have my scan, ask my final questions, and if all goes smoothly, I will pick my date. And that will be exciting.
Thank you, Medicine Man.

I know you're out there...

Hello, friends.
Lately, it has come to light that quite a few of you are reading, whether occasionally or regularly. Some of you tell me outright that you're reading, some of you ask me questions about a post, some of you I try to tell a story, but you confess you already know the punchline.
But according to my page, I have 5 followers, one of which is me. Now, I love the facebook stalk as much as anyone. Anonymity is hard to come by these days.
But when I'm not sure if I should sit down to write sometimes, it's really, really motivating to know that people are checking. It makes a difference. It tips the scale.
So I'm not going to go all, "click the follow button! click it!! click the button!" on you. I'd never do that. But if you don't mind me knowing, and you don't mind the world knowing, it would be fun to see your names pop up on my sidebar so that I can have "you" specifically with me while I'm writing.
And while I'm on the subject, whether my number of followers is 5 or 500, thanks for reading. You are all wonderful for caring, or even just being a little curious.

I had a lovely day with family today, and there's nothing else to write about tonight.
Tomorrow, I may have my first acupuncture experience, in which case I'm sure there will be much to tell.
Good night all you secret and not secret people. I'm wishing you all sweet dreams.

Pupperoni...

I think actors look at time differently than other people. We go through long stretches where we can't see the people we want to see. And then we're free, but we've been so out of touch, we need to reconnect. I started dealing with all this in elementary school. We'd come downtown for opera three times a week, go late to school the next day, have to make up work over the weekend, etc. A 10 year old can only hear, "Sorry, I'm too busy this week" so many times before they move on to making other friends.
Don't get me wrong; I loved growing up the way I did. It just clarified for me what my friends mean to me--especially the ones that aren't theatre people but stand by me just the same. I'm so lucky to have people who stand by me through the painfully busy and the painfully free.
Because of all this, I still savor my weekends. And because of all this, I've never been particularly good about following things like the 3 day rule. To this day, if I have no show and free time, and I think of you, you're getting a phone call (while you still can).
But more than rule breaking, this whole actor warped sense of time thing has made me very aware of "normal" time expectations and "rules."

On a related note (wait for it), I have this theory about one reason people, particularly women, love to have dogs.
Friends, significant others, partners, coworkers, spouses, families--nobody wants to spend all of their time with the same person. I know the concept of marriage is supposed to at least involve seeing each other almost every day. But I find that men especially need their alone time.
But my dog--my dog doesn't even like it when I leave him to go to the bathroom. He follows me everywhere as if there's nothing more he'd rather do than be a part of my day. He hates when I leave him, and he's happy every time I walk through the door or even just in his direction.
So, friends, is it possible we enjoy having dogs so much because there is another being that cares as much about our daily lives as we do? If dogs give us something that humans are incapable of, how much does this factor in to our choice to keep them around as companions? I know there are plenty of reasons dogs make wonderful companions. It just seems to me that when you compare dog/human companionship to human/human companionship, there's a big difference we often skip over.
I'm waiting for someone to jump down my throat with feminism now. And I probably would have done the same before I had Blitz. Honestly, I just think it's funny if you think about it. There are all these male/female dynamics, all these time rules we're supposed to abide by. People come on too strong or leave too suddenly, and to some people, those things can have a profound effect on a relationship. But a dog and human only have to be there for each other as much as possible for their relationship to flourish forever.
If humans tried it, I wonder if it would be an utter disaster or the key we've been missing to ending game play. (I bet we'd be hard pressed to even find volunteers, though.)
Just a few thoughts for before bed. And now, I better go. My puppy is about to come in from his bed time walk, and he's going to want to snuggle.

Blitz and I are listening to the rain...

We're home alone... again. My brain stages an imaginary face-off--briefcases vs. voices. (JPL, that was another Stage Kiss reference--don't hurt yourself trying to decode it. : ))
Anyway, I've been using my time alone to sit in front of my computer listening to live Adele performances. This speaks to the kind of week it's been--if you know her work and if you know that only certain mindsets/emotions allow me to get lost in time without any worry of my to do list. Come to think of it, Adele sings of losing ones self in time thinking about another person. We all know it takes pretty strong feelings, personal or otherwise, to lose yourself that way. So I've loved that time today. It means I'm feeling. And that means I'm writing.
Blitz gets restless when it's just the two of us at night. He paces and pants and doesn't understand. We've fetched and pulled and walked and done the stairs. There's nothing else I can do...
There are two other things I wanted to write about tonight, but I find that right now there's too much on my mind to focus into sentences...
What I will say is this: there is nothing like a sister. Thank you, JPL, for today. I needed that reassurance. I do have eyes. And I do have you. And now that I've explained what it means to me, you were some kind of pork product. And not in the ironic, forbidden kind of way. But in the fulfilling kind of way. Thank you.
And now to prepare, for tomorrow we dance!

Laughs like bacon...

Tonight, I wish being a human was as easy as being a writer. I wish I could write and rewrite and try a few plot lines out for size and happiness before opening night. 
There is a scene toward the end of Stage Kiss that involves the story of a woman who lives one life while the ghost of her lives another. I'm a ghost right now, and I don't know which is the best road to living.
And then there is bacon... constantly. Stage and screen make it look so easy to maneuver. My moral compass has always found fault with that fact. But the characters I relate to are changing.
If only I could write it... then I could try an action, see it through, and if it bombed, I could craft the response of each character. Like tonight, someone would make it all better before the closing number. No risk of utter destruction. We could literally all be on the same page...
Maybe that makes me a control freak, which is not how we're supposed to live. Right? But right now I feel like I may as well flip a coin.
The truth is, I'm starving. I am. I admitted it tonight. And for a few hours, I wasn't even hungry.
See, I'm figuring out what keeps me full. But right now I'm just more aware of the hunger when it returns.
I need a solution. So far, I've decided that every day should be a feast. Or a potential feast (I can be realistic). Now I just have to figure out how on earth to get what I want...
Do I hear a breakfast bell?

Not the zombie apocalypse you were hoping for, but definitely some social media...

I should be audition prepping, but I feel like I have to write this now, while I'm still feeling it.
So, last night, the friends were over and packing up to leave when ACSpells got a text to turn on CNN. We did, and it was actually tense for a few minutes. We couldn't imagine what kind of announcement Obama would be making about national security that had to be kept a secret till his announcement. To keep things light, someone suggested it may be aliens or the zombie apocalypse (my friends are really cool and not at all geeky). We started reviewing the Zombieland rules, etc. And then we waited. For an hour. In front of a confused looking Wolf Blitzer. And finally we knew what we were going to hear. The tone in our room didn't change much. Maybe we were a bit relieved it wasn't about our country in crisis. We were certainly interested to hear what had happened. We smiled a bit that something the government has been attempting for so long had been accomplished. But we waited.
Actually, that's a lie. One of the first things I did was go to get the iPad. I set it on the coffee table, and I opened the facebook news feed, ready to watch it explode. It was no surprise that soon there would be a flood of responses. And I read every single one. See, that moment, last night, is why I think facebook can be awesome. Humans have very few massively shared experiences, and when something happens that impacts the whole world, facebook is now one of the primary ways we can participate in that shared moment. It was cool and weird, and weirdest of all, I witnessed the result of several people finding out about the event via facebook and twitter. Social media as a news source... it probably reaches more people than TV and news at this point. Anyway, some of the comments were witty, some serious. But I got to see that so many acquaintances were sharing our experiences, and sometimes our same thoughts. Something big was happening.
Obama began his speech. No, first was the walk. Ok, I think Obama's strong strut is kind of sexy... or at least it definitely makes him look really cool as a president. I'm glad they set things up so you can watch him walk to and from his speeches. But back on track, I loved the speech. I loved it because it was factual and celebrated the pursuit of peace, and Obama looked right in the camera and said that if people attempt to retaliate, we'll keep kicking ass. It was a great address to our country and an invitation to further unite the peace-seeking world. I thought the tone was just right--accomplished, but respectful. And despite the fact that the event was acknowledged as an important and necessary success, Obama did not make it sound like an event to be celebrated.
Which brings me back to facebook...
Now, I don't remember who posted which status, so this is not targeted at anyone. This is a "this is my blog" moment, so I'm just going to roll with it. When I checked facebook before bed, I felt sick. Disgusted. I saw so, so many posts celebrating death. Here's my question: When a horrible human being dies, no matter how we feel, is there appropriate behavior? I think there absolutely is. I struggle with the USA a lot. See, I love our country, what it stands for, and for the first time in a long time, the man in charge. But the people. Oh, half of the people--entitled, simple, and cruel. (I'm not aiming this at my fb friends who posted--this is how I feel in general about other people.)
Look, if we advertise to the world that we are the best, the country to follow, then we have a responsibility to act accordingly. If we want to be the parent of the world, we should set a good example. And like a lot of parents in our country, we're failing horribly. You know on (pick any sitcom) when awful Uncle Albert dies, and (pick a leading man) has to make a speech about him and doesn't know what to say? But he finds a way to be diplomatic? No way do we need to praise a terrorist, but our country wasn't diplomatic as a whole last night--we were ruthless. I think Obama set a wonderful example, and the country didn't follow. There was something patriotic about people standing outside the White House awaiting the news. And it's touching to remember lives lost and soldiers fighting. But what does sloppy celebration footage say to the world? Does it say anything about justice or rest or finality? No. It says we're partying it up over revenge. And even if I'm so glad he's not here anymore, it's disgusting to make light of such an important moment by taking the focus from the 9/11 victims, the amazing intelligence found in the compound, etc. and putting it all on the killing part.
Today, I've noticed many facebookers posting MLK quotes and reflecting on this very subject. I think facebook (along with the TV footage) has brought to light the debate over how and how much to act out in moments like this. I find this to be another amazing facebook moment--calling out our peers, voicing our opinions, respecting each others' opinions, standing firm in our beliefs, all over the same subject. On facebook and off, I sincerely hope that the consensus will be that as citizens of the world, we will make the priority to unite in progress but remain respectful and remember that death. is. never. "winning."

As always, your comments/opinions are welcome...