Pathetic

I was on my way out the door to the gym, but now I'm writing a post instead. here's why:

Last night I spent the night at my good friend Sheila's house. We watched the Oscars and ate the latest incarnation of my spinach and artichoke dip and drank wine. We laughed, we cried, I was particularly inspired by the folks who won best song, and their call to "make art!"

I came home this morning with the intention of heading straight back out to work off all the dairy I've been eating (as though it were crack, and i an addict). Sometimes cutting something out of your diet can turn it into a tempting vice...

But when I came home, Mister came down and presented me with yet ANOTHER battle wound, this one the sickest yet. It took me three rinsings to get all the blood off of his fur to see the wound for what it was, and expose it enough to put his extra strength ointment into it. All of his other wounds had finally healed and I thought we were in the clear. Not so, not so. This one is relatively superficial, it still isn't as bad as that one time with the raccoon and the huge open hole that I had to stick back together with this weird super glue fake skin stuff. I do have faith in my nursing ability at this point in our relationship, it's mister's ability to heal in his old age that has me worried.

(By the way, according to Jon Stewart's method of figuring out your stripper name, one of my many options is "Mister Pleasant"...)

So now, I've decided that it is more important for me to hang out in my room with meow than to get to the gym. I'll do it later. I mean it. I'll go tonight after work.

Speaking of my room, I must tell you how exceptionally clean and zen-like it is. I've re-arranged it yet again, and now the focal point has become my beautiful valentine's day orchid. It is living happily in front of the window, and every day it seems to grow new blooms. I was very nervous at first, but it seems so happy now that I feel more confident that i won't kill it.

I had another show with my band, Dig A Pony. It was raining again. The sound system at this little cafe is truly horrendous, it sounded like I was singing through a blanket, and not in a good way. I probably shouldn't have used the mic, the place is small enough. But at the time I didn't really care. I was really focused on what the songs are all about. Most of them I wrote about my journey out here, what I was chasing and what and who I left behind. It's been a year, and I'm feeling pensive. I have changed a lot, and my vision of my life has changed. I think that I have become simpler. Stupider, maybe, but I think it's okay to be stupid for a year. Just not much longer than that or it has more of a chance at becoming a permanent state, instead of a rest.

Right now, I am desperately anxious to see my family next month when we convene in London. I miss them all a little too much, it hurts. MUST MOVE CLOSER. Patience, my child. A virtue I think on every day... when does patience become pathetic? When is it time to pick up and make something happen? Looking forward to some Wall Sister Magic. You'd think that in Southern California I'd be surrounded by Glitz and Glamour, but I have yet to see anything that really compares to what occurs when the three of us get together. My sisters are the epitome of Glamour, and how it translates to everyday living. Emmy looks like a movie star in Carrharts and cow manure, and Soe looks like a supermodel in a flour-encrusted apron. It's all about the attitude and being yourself. Now, my challenge is how to be famously intriguing whilst cleaning my cat's pussing neck... He is so grounded.