Welp. Hmmmmm. These last twelve months...I don't even know what to say. Which is really kinda sad, cause I think I was making that very same statement this very moment last year. And if I had known what was yet (and, who knows, may still be) in store for me, I may have felt differently about the whole thing.

But last year, I probably would have sobbed. And screamed. And railed against...well, whatever you rail against in times like these.

And I don't feel like doing that. Not right now, anyway. I mean, I feel queasy. I feel really, really weird. But there really isn't anger.

And the thing of it is, some really awesome things have happened, too. Like having a couple of amazing awesome life changing adventures and meeting fabulous new awesome people that I hope to know for a very, very long time to come. I don't know that it COMPLETELY makes up for the awfulness, but I can't just dismiss this life I've led for twelve months. I have been blessed with fantastic opportunities and experiences. Just because they don't end up the way I thought they would, or wanted them to, doesn't invalidate them.

And I think I've learned a lot about myself. Hopefully these lessons will carry me into wonderful things to come. Maybe I will learn to appreciate the good that might be in hand right now and not worry about the awfulness to come. Maybe I'll just have learned to go through the awfulness with more grace and dignity than I've shown before. I'll take either, but between you and me, I'm really pulling for some more wonderful.

So. What to do now? Put on my big girl panties. Reevaluate. Learn. Be better. These are the goals, anyway. I have an amazing family, and network of friends. I have this support system most people would envy.

And U2 therapy. Lots and lots of U2. And if someone wants to send me copies of the albums I don't have, I would love you forever and probably write a poem in your honor. Cause like I told a good friend of mine, on Facebook of all places, it's really impossible to be the sheperd while making major life decisions to Hole.

Yup, I'm back. There were parts of the net I didn't miss (Facebook, Twitter), and parts I did. This journal I missed. When I have more time 'll post a proper entry. Until then...xoxo...








*Yes, I quoted Eminem. DON'T JUDGE ME.

So. Made the abrupt decision to deactivate all my social media. Twitter and one other are already gone, Fb & myspace will be once I've gotten all my pics. I'll still chat/email/skype/text/talk to people; not becoming a hermit. Couldn't if I tried. But...yeah. Tried it. Met and got back in touch with MAGNIFICENT people. Don't ever wanna give any of my Beautiful Bitches up. It's been a grand experiment. Hell, I might be back in a week. But you know how I know I rely on it too much? I was NERVOUS deleting Twitter. Like, actually stomach flipping nervous. So...yeah.

So. I wonder how many people will actually stay in touch, will engage with me when it's one-on-one, and not just in short, breezy social media bits? Unrealistic to want EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM? Perhaps. But that's what I want.

So. At the moment, a little nervous, but feeling pretty good. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.

And yes, I've quoted George Michael twice in one day. DON'T JUDGE ME.

So. Made the abrupt decision to deactivate all my social media. Twitter and one other are already gone, Fb & myspace will be once I've gotten all my pics. I'll still chat/email/skype/text/talk to people; not becoming a hermit. Couldn't if I tried. But...yeah. Tried it. Met and got back in touch with MAGNIFICENT people. Don't ever wanna give any of my Beautiful Bitches up. It's been a grand experiment. Hell, I might be back in a week. But you know how I know I rely on it too much? I was NERVOUS deleting Twitter. Like, actually stomack flipping nervous. So...yeah.

So. I wonder how many people will actually stay in touch, will engage with me when it's one-on-one, and not just in short, breezy social media bits? Unrealistic to want EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM? Perhaps. But that's what I want.

So. At the moment, a little nervous, but feeling pretty good. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.

And yes, I've quoted George Michael twice in one day. DON'T JUDGE ME.

Started my FB/Twitter exile early. It's going better than expected. Someone asked me if it was also a ban on LJ. I hadn't thought about it; I always double post my blogs to FB. But I guess it doesn't. Apply, that is. So. A little experiment. I'll blog here for August, w/o double posting. See if anyone is paying attention. If not, I'll just be screaming into the wind, the crazy lady on her soap box in the middle of a crowd of a million disinterested people. And for some reason, that's perfectly ok, too.

Well, here we are again, my Beautiful Bitches. I was prepared to write this long, lengthy note, but all the energy for such a thing has seeped out of me. But here I am, trying anyway. Cause ya'all deserve more than just a pop in every couple of months. We shall see...

This year, these last 12 months--I ain't gonna lie--have sucked. Absolutely sucked.

BUT.

But so much has changed. And I'm dealing with it. And at first all this new shit was just scary and weird. Now it's scary and weird and kind of exciting. I am learning A LOT about myself. I am making stupid mistakes daily. Really, incredible, stupid, awkward, hot mess mistakes. But I think I'm to a point where I'm learning from them, instead of being pissed and flabbergasted. And that's progress.

As many of you noticed, I completely changed my look. It wasn't what we were expecting, but we dealt with it. And now I see it as my first real step. Of looking at uncertainty and making that fucking bitch mine. That night I decided that I didn't want to be the person I had woken up to any longer. And boy, howdy, did I accomplish that goal.

Yeah, it sounds shallow, but it's kind of an actor--or writer, for that matter--thing. Find what the character looks like, find the character. Huh. Doesn't sound any less shallow, does it? Ah well, fuck it. We all know I ain't the deepest sea.

August and February are traditionally the worst months of the year for me, but this year I am determined to own August, and not the other way around. So. So I have decided for the month of August to give up things I feel I can't live without. Because if that's the case, they own me, and I ain't property. So. What I'm giving up:

1. Coffee

2. Alcohol (not that I even drink that much, usually. But here lately I've had a drink about 2-3 times a week. And for me, that's too much)

3. Sweets (an exception to be made for weddings. Cause really, it's just rude to not have a piece of wedding cake)

4. Purchasing anything new for myself that's nonessential

5. Facebook/Twitter

Yes, this year has been hard.



BUT.

But right at this very moment, I am feeling pretty damn fine. Had an AMAZING decadent, spiritual, rejuvinating weekend. I was going to describe it, but I'm finding I can't; it's just too personal. But everything that happened was everything I needed. And now I think I'm ready to tackle my life. I will still make dumb, awkward, hot mess mistakes everyday. Hopefully they will be less. I have an amazing network of family and friends to see me through. I'm also meeting fantastic new people. Things are scary, but I'm gonna try to ride the excitement.

Okay, because I am tech stupid and don't know how to embed, here's a piece of awesomeness from this weekend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnwJLXAfjok

http://www.myspace.com/easter_lane/blog/542792173

On a mix I made this summer (Which really should be titled THE MOST DEPRESSING MIX EVAH) I wanted to include Marrianne Faithful's "As Tears Go By." itunes presented me with an interesting choice: the original, which was recorded when she was twentysomething, or one that was recorded in, like, the last 15 years. I choose the latter. I prefer her voice now--cracked, edgy, mannered, ful of life and stories that the lyrics only hint at. In fact, I find her much more beautiful now. Jennifer Saunders knew what she was doing when she cast Faithful as God in an episode of AbFab. But I find most women more interesting, more beautiful, as they age. When I was younger, my movie idols were all women my mother's age or 10 years younger than her/10 years older than me; Michelle Pfieffer, Jody Foster, Kim Basinger, Sherilyn Fenn. In college I added Emma Thompson and Gillian Anderson. In the last few years it's been Helen Mirren, Helena Bohnam Carter, Gong Li, Cate Blanchette, Tilda Swenton, and Julianne Moore. I'm still in love with Emma Thompson and Gillian Anderson. These women are aging so, well, beautifully (NOT gracefully. I hate that term. As if aging were something to be ashamed of, to be handled, to be dealt with). They haven't given up their sexuality or their individuality. They haven't surrendered to the needle or the knife. They don't apologize for no longer being young. And I think they're so much more interesting, more desirable, for it. The only younger actress I really have any interest in is Gemma Arterton. Most of the rest seem so...cookie cutter. They have the same long hair and the same neutral make up and the same size 00 body and wear the same safe designer dresses their overpayed stylists tell them to wear.

I can't imagine actually paying someone to tell me what to wear or how to do my hair.

I've always liked older men. Most of the older men I was into in high school I still dig. Oddly, I've begun being really interested in young men. I think it's because right now, there's this new interest in the Byronic Hero--all these tall, thin, pale, brooding, dark boys. When I was younger the template was different; jockier. Tom Cruise. Keanu Reaves, Brad Pitt. I enjoy watching them, but they ain't ever been my thing. I've never been a jock kinda gal.

Society is so focused on perfection. Always has been, but I think all the new tech, the constant stream of images and advertising and information, cause it to feel overwhelming. God forbid someone has a pimple. Or stretch marks, or a wrinkle, or an ugly dress, or silver hair. Or a belly. Or frizzy hair. Show no genuine emotion--you might get labled uncool. It's not cool to care, to break the cool facade. God forbid we get a scuff on our tennis shoes, or a scratch on our cars. Our products, our images are owning us.

Accept me for the wonderful individual snowflake I am--but you be beautiful and available, without fault or dishonorable deed.

Is there anything more glorious than the climax of "Under Pressure", the David Bowie/Queen duet?

Recieved much love on my birthday, which I think, ironically, led to more anxiety. I mean, I recieved a lot of attention, which I adore, cause we all know I'm a huge attention whore, but then I started to panic. I think I've finally figured it out. I'm afraid of losing the love, once I have it. I'm afraid I'll say something or do something, or that the love was cheaply given and easily taken back. I was recently bitching to a fairly newly made, rather close friend of mine, about things that don't particularly cast me in the best light. When I apologized she said it didn't matter; even if she disagrees with me she still adores me. And no, she's definitely not the type to say so lightly. And yet. And yet...

It's so interesting, how all the things we do to hold on to people are the very things most likely to drive them away.

I've been reading blogs lately from literary agents, and they've all had the same advice to beginning authors: start blogging. Write about things you care about but don't make it too personal. Push the product. Sell the image. And I'm thinking, what the hell? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of this particular medium, and of writing in general? I mean, I can't imagine divulging anything here that's more personal than my fiction. My fiction is simply coded. In fact, it's so incredibly personal I'm terribly embarrassed when people who know me well--who posses the Rosetta Stone to decipher my code--read it. Much more so than this blog. And besides, who wants an endless stream of word counts and release dates and articles on how to format your manuscript? I quickly stop following an author when I realize that's all an author has to share.

Push the product. Sell the image.

Coffee high. Sugar crash. Love high. Life crash. Same difference.

...tyring to adjust. Trying to take that next step in growing the hell up. It's not such a bad place to end up, all things concidered.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvbYMFo1HHo

Scattered tonight. Head ALL over the freaking place, but felt the need to give a quick update.

Things are better. Nothing's really solved, as it were, but I at least feel better about things. Took a week to be a complete brat. Whinned on the blog. Bitched to Elaina. Vented to Giddy. Almost cried to Hannah. Complained to Michelle. Blubbered to J (Mom, I woulda called, but I just didn't have time for a phone call. Sorry!). And after all of that, I think I have my white girl problems in perspective.

Here goes my 30,000 reboot. Wish me luck.

But hell, there is SO MUCH to get done!