I’m going to be late to work for writing this, and I don’t care.

I am so angsty right now. 

Maybe it’s because I just came off a show, but I am having a really hard time dealing with the reality of sitting at a desk and typing all day instead of singing.

Goddamn it, I just can’t make myself feel better about it. 

It means nothing. It changes nothing. Actually, that’s wrong. It changes a lot. In fact, my job actually ends up hurting people in the long run, what with the whole “suing people for unpaid medical bills” aspect of it. It’s best not to think too much about what happens after I draw up court papers, but this morning it’s all I can think about, and it’s sort of eating my soul. 

I’m so sick of this stupid, brainless, hopeless work. I just plop down with my iPod every morning and count the hours until I can go home and watch Netflix with my peeps. My mind wanders, I barely pay any attention to my work, and I’m still the best person they’ve ever had in this job. That is how stupid my job is. 

I’m going to be late on purpose, and that’s because I didn’t charge my iPod. Yep. I reached into my bag for my keys and there it was, with a little red bar, and I immediately plugged it in, almost in tears because I can’t be there too much later than 8:45 (late as that is) because if I am it’ll mean that I’ll need to stay later, which is much, much worse. But I can’t live without my iPod at work. At least I can listen to some Verdi or something instead of the clicking of keys and the idiodic rantings of all the fucktards that I work with. Blah blah blah I’m 33 and have a kid in middle school and I watch The Bachelor and listen to Josh Groban and eat Cheetos at my desk all day and call Artsy “just so crazy!!!” and make her want to die of sadness. 

I’d quit, but what then? Another job like this one except I might have to wear business casual instead of jeans? No thanks. 

Goddamn it, it’s almost 8:20. 

It’s heartbreaking. It’s just fucking heartbreaking. 

I’m in High School!

I just logged in to myspace for the first time in 150 years (I’m over it), but I saw that my friends are still filling out those surveys that we used to do in high school, and I kind of felt like doing one. I’m burned out and exhausted, and it seemed like a good idea. 

Don’t judge me. 

Hi, my name is:
Ms. Artsy McFartsy, Esq. 

But you can call me:

Lover.
The one perso​n who can drive​ me nuts is:
The one person? Everyone drives me nuts. I guess if I have to pick just one, I’ll go with the angsty liberal choice of George W. 

My high schoo​l was:
Gigantic and populated by rich mini-adults that smelled like tanning beds. 

When I’m nervo​us I:
Talk much, much, much too much, all while avoiding eye contact. 

When I’m mad I:
Cry. Unless I’m suffering from road rage. Then I scream and use ridiculously offensive profanities. 

The last song I liste​ned to was:
The opening credits to It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

If I were to get marri​ed right​ now it would​ be to:
You know, it might be better to wait on that decision until I find someone to date me. 

My hair is:
In the mid growing-out stage and making me crazy. 

When I was 4:
I was learning to read, dressing only in lavender and hot pink, in love with liverwurst sandwiches, and my best friend was my baby blanket. 

Last Chris​tmas:​
I drove 11 hours to my parents’ house in Wisconsin, where there was a big hearty meal of my mom’s beef and noodles and a box of See’s Candies awaiting me. 

I shoul​d be:
Relaxing, which is exactly what I’m doing. It’s Sunday, plus I had a show today… and I haven’t had a lazy day in a month and 1/2.  

When I look down I see:
My little midget hands typing, then backspacing to fix my mistakes. 

I love:​
My family, my friends, warm hugs, frozen pizza, flannel pajamas, big glasses of ice water, the smell of freshly watched laundry, curling up under blankets, piave vecchio by the pound. 

The happi​est recen​t event​ was:
A surprisingly good performance this afternoon. 

If I were a chara​cter on ‘Frie​nds’ I would​ like to be:
Dead. Friends is annoying and painfully unfunny. 

By this time next year:​
I hope to be singing professionally more often, happier, a smidgen thinner. 

I’m curre​ntly mad at:
Myself for not having a plan, even though it’s not my fault. 

I have a hard time under​stand​ing:​
The music biz, Republicans, math, men. 

If I won an award​,​ the first​ few peopl​e I would​ tell would​ be:
My mom. Then probably whoever I saw next. 

I want to buy:
A blackberry, a nicer apartment. 

I plan to one day:
Discover my path to true joy. 

If you spent​ the night​ at my house​:​
You’d get a cup of tea before bed, a nice comfy bed complete with snuggle partner if desired, and a hot shower that feels like the showers at the gym, but has hot water for days.

The world​ could​ do witho​ut:​
Assholes. You know who you are. 

Most recen​t thing​ I’ve bough​t mysel​f:​
Food, gas (42 fucking dollars!), and a new yoga dvd. 

Most recen​t thing​ someo​ne else bough​t me:
A delicious pint of Fat Tire. 

My middl​e name is:
Dyan, after my aunt. 

In the morni​ng I:
Get up and putter around on the computer until I make myself late for work. 

Last night​ I was:
Rehearsing The Secret Garden and being crabby. 

If I were an anima​l I’d be:
A housecat. I’m moody, spastic, and oddly affectionate. 

Tomor​row I am:
Working my soul-sucking day job, then figuring some baroque ornamentation out with D. 

Tonig​ht I am:
Clad in red and pink flannel and watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia on DVD. 
My birth​day is:
July 6. Almost the big 2-5.

There you go. Nothing you ever wanted to know about me. I feel 14 again, except minus the angry girl clothes and door slamming. 

Just in case anyone else watches celebrity dating shows.

 

 

see more crazy cat pics

Nerd alert

Today is Shakespeare’s birthday. Here are a couple of my favorite sonnets:

Sonnet 60
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Dear Shakespeare,

Thanks.

Love,

Artsy

FYI

If you buy a package of 100 calorie Hostess Cupcake packs but then eat all 6 of them in one sitting it pretty much defeats the purpose of 100 calorie packs.

Just thought you should know.

Netflix Reviews: Lars and the Real Girl and The Last King of Scotland

First of all, let me tell you that I recently upgraded my Neflix to two at a time (if I did three I’d never leave the house), and it has continued to enrich my life. These were the first two at a time I received, and I had a really hard time deciding on which to watch first.

So I played eenie meenie miney mo and ended on Lars and the Real Girl.

Ok, so on paper it sounds really bad. Have you heard of Real Dolls (link NSFW)? They’re sex dolls, but more than that. They’re over a thousand dollars and they feel (and look) like real women. There is apparently also a cult of people who have actual relationships with their dolls besides sex. The whole thing is interesting, and disturbing, especially as a smart girl whose biggest fear is that men actually want silent, personality-less women.

But I digress.

Lars is a lonely, lonely person. He lives in his brother and sister-in-law’s garage, is painfully awkward and shy, and hates to be touched. His loneliness is so great that he orders a Real Doll and starts a relationship with it. Lars is delusional, but instead of being ostracized by the small town he lives in, everyone plays along and does their best to make his “girlfriend” comfortable.

I gotta tell you, I returned it to Netflix and immediately bought the thing. It’s lovely. It’s obviously funny, what with dolls falling all over the place and stuff, but it’s also really touching. The more the town rallies around him, the more Lars feels loved, and as his confidence grows, it’s becomes virtually impossible for your heart not to shatter into a million pieces.

Briefly, we should talk about how good Ryan Gosling is.

In a world of Josh Hartnetts, there is a bright light named Ryan Gosling. I’m going to go ahead and chalk up The Notebook to a learning experience… He’s fucking fantastic. I saw him jogging on the street in New York and I wanted to run after him to hug him.

In short, rent it.

The Last King of Scotland also turned out to be pretty kickass. It’s based on the true story of Nicholas Garrigan, a scottish doctor who somehow got mixed up in with Ugandan dictator Idi Amin. It’s great. The whole thing has a very gritty, documentary feel, and it works. James McAvoy (another young actor who gives me faith in movies. Have you seen Atonement yet? Run to the store and prepare to be in love with him.) is the young doctor, and he is immensely likable and relatable. As the charismatic dictator sweeps him up in his playboy lifestyle, you’re swept up right with him, and you feel his anguish when he realizes what kind of man Amin is. Warning for those with weak stomachs: This movie is GRAPHIC. Um, I don’t want to ruin things for you, but let’s just say I screamed in horror more than 5 times in the last 20 minutes.

Anyway.

Awesome as McAvoy is, Forest Whitaker owns this movie. It would have been really easy for this film to suck. The whole concept rests solely on the ability of the actor playing Idi Amin, who managed to murder 300,000 of his own countrymen under their noses without national outrage (for a while, at least). He’s charismatic, paranoid… almost childlike, but with terrifying fits of rage. Forest Whitaker pulled it off and then some. That Oscar he got? Yeah, he deserved it. He disappears into the role. It’s an amazing performance. I want to find him and shake his hand.

Also, it’s got Gillian Anderson in it, which makes me happy because I love Agent Scully. Yeah, I said it.

See it… but be in the right mood for a serious downer.

Ummmm….

I’ve been having such good luck with Netflix lately. I have only been annoyed with a few of the last few that came through my mailbox (hint: Smiley Face isn’t a good movie. Take it at face value and you know that.). Hopefully my luck will continue.

What have YOU GUYS been watching?

Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Sorry that I’ve been doing nothing but posting youtubes lately. I promise to actually use brain cells and write something very soon. 

 

CREEPED OUT.

An Open Letter to Little Girls

First, read THIS.

Then cry. I know I did.

Ok, now you’re ready for my letter. 

Dear Little Girls of the World,

I love you. Though I purport to hate children, I delight in the thought of little girls, even if I don’t show it.

I rejoice on the days I see you doing something extraordinary, because I know that it’s hard to be a little girl. Harder now, maybe, than when I was growing up.

I saw a 10 year old getting her eyebrows waxed the other day. Pre-teens at the mall in more makeup than me. And God damn this world, I read about an 8 year old asking for a divorce today.

So I just wanted to tell you all that you are marvelous creatures. You are brave little souls under it all, whether that’s being trapped in an adult marriage in Yemen or being trapped in a cage of adult beauty standards in America. I can see these bright lights that want to dance and be dirty and tough and marvelous. I see you in there. I see you, and I acknowledge you, even if you never come out.

But I hope you do come out.

Just in case no one ever told you, I think there are some things you should know:

1. You have a power inside you that no one can take away. You can be anything you want to be; a ballerina, a cartoonist, a housewife, a princess, a veterinarian, an FBI agent, the president, a kickboxing champion… ANYTHING. You have the strength and the power to be all that and more. So much more. Try to find that power, and change the world. You can.

2. You are more than a body, more than a face. Though beauty is wonderful, that is not all that you are. Stray hairs, scars, gaps in your teeth, a day without shaving… that’s ok. It’s ok, it’s beautiful, it’s you. An open, questioning, seeking mind trumps six pack abs any day of the week.

3. You deserve respect. You are a person. You are a worthy, cherished member of the human race. You deserve to be treated with dignity, though you are a child, a female child. Because you are a female child, a miniature goddess in a unicorn t-shirt. No hurt, physical, sexual, or mental, is ever justified. You are allowed to stand up. To rise above. To lift your head without fear or shame or unworthiness weighing you down. You deserve this.

Little girls, this life is hard. As a woman who was once a little girl, I can not lie to you.

Be brave, little ones.

In your honor, this youtube of a movie you’re much to young to know exists.

Love,

Artsy
 

Turning my labia into a yay-bia!

Thank you, Amanda. This brought much joy to my inbox.