Runnin' Down a Dream

I'm still running down a dream. Coincidentally, that's another of the songs on my running mix that really gets me going. So far this week I've clocked about ten miles.

A long 4.5 on monday, impressive considering the shoddy start to my week. I logged these miles on the treadmill at the gym, because it was rainy out. It was boring and all of the numbers on the machine really weren't good for my neurotic tendencies. Running on the treadmill has several drawbacks. First, I really get a sense of how slow I actually am. Second, it's surrounded by mirrors, which I can't ignore (and it's not like I look good). Third, I immediately feel as though I must compete with the pace/time/calorie count/ of the runners on either side of me. Fourth, I'm not getting anywhere. Fifth, my excessive sweating is on brightly-lit display.

Of course there are benefits as well. I run faster on the treadmill. If I feel like running a ten-minute-mile, all I have to do is bump the thing up to six mph and hang in there. I can see how many calories i'm burning, which isn't actually that important to me, but at least when i'm running nowhere I can derive some sort of satisfaction from knowing that I just eliminated a hefty chunk of the day's caloric intake. Other than that...I guess it's easier on my joints than the esplanade is. Mmmm, esplanade.

I took tuesday off, and made wednesday a really easy short run (because I was pressed for time), compensating by climing up and down the six flights at home at least ten times for the sake of the laundry.

Wednesday night I went to the screening of The Savages, and afterward listened to three incredible actors and a magnificent director talk about their craft in a way that made me so joyful I cried. The words and phrases the used, and the passion with which they expressed themselves was so akin to the way that I feel and articulate that it took my breath away. And then I said to myself "I can't keep working this bread job". I can't keep doing something that keeps me from doing the something I came here to do. Do you follow? Then I went to P.J. Clarkes and ate a delicious sit-like-a-stone-in-my-belly bacon cheeseburger. Effectively negating at least a week of training.

Tonight was another good jag at the esplanade. Did I just say jag? Who does that? Jesus. My blood sugar must be low. Anyway, 4 miles or so today, and not quite as cold as my last long run outside. OH! And my new baby ipod is here! It was MUCH better to run with. I'm still enjoying my new mix, interspersed with lots of Christmas music (Run DMC's "Christmas in Hollis" really gets me going).

This leads me to my desperate plea. Dear friends, please oh please, send me music to run to. I don't care how you do it - a cd, a playlist, a comment with "hey, put [insert track here] on your running mix", anything. I find that once my body realizes that it can keep moving, it's really the songs that keep me from stopping. So, help a sister out. Send me some love, via Sly and the Family Stone, or whatever it is that works for you.

Please? Thank you.

Let the games begin...

Today was Halloween. Halloween was once my favorite holiday. This was the most depressing halloween of my life. I didn't dress up, for the first time ever. I didn't get ridiculously drunk and parade about in a skimpy outfit. I didn't do anything. I avoided the playhouse halloween party because I didn't want to deal with any kind of awkward situation with the boy or the other girl. Mostly the other girl. I don't have any problem interacting with the boy, and if I had been there, I could have easily kept that under control. There's just something about being in the same physical space as that girl that makes me so uncomfortable I become physically ill. Panic sets in. I can't even step foot in the playhouse unless I've verified that I won't be running into her. It's absurd.


It's depressing for more than just the obvious reasons. Last night, while on yet another marathon phone-call with the boy (yep, we're back to that stage), we got around to the subject of the holidays. And, for the first time ever, I'm dreading them. Let's get something straight, here. I'm jolly. I love Thanksgiving, and Christmas. I love the decorations, and the music and the family and the food, and just...all of it. Maybe that makes me a huge tool. The boy finds it comical, because he is grinchy. But, as we started talking about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and our respective families routines for these holidays, and I began to cry, he softened up about it. You see, it has become increasingly difficult for me to fight off tears at the thought of the approaching holiday season. The reason is very simple. I'm not going to be able to go home this year, unless some sort of a financial miracle occurs. Every single time I think of the fact that I won't be back in Arkansas with my family on Christmas morning, I want to jump off a bridge. Really. That's the kind of hurt that it creates.
I just don't think it's in the cards.

Thanksgiving will hopefully be ok. I haven't actually been home for that one in the last three years. This will be the fourth. So far, I'm planning on trying my hand at Thanksgiving dinner for the first time.

It's something.

The new job is soul-sucking. Seriously. I am already becoming resentful of the effects I can see it having on my artistic career, and of it's role in my holiday demise.

Boo. Happy Halloween.

Workin' Girl

Today I got not one, but two jobs. One I interviewed for this morning, and was offered on the spot. One I interviewed for almost a month ago, was offered the same day, and then revoked as the person I was to be replacing decided not to leave. Right after I got the offer from today's interview, the older offer called me back, and literally BEGGED me to come work for them. The one I got today was a part-time retail gig, that paid ten bucks an hour. The one from a month ago was a full-time bridal consulting job, that pays upwards of forty grand a year.

Guess which one I took.

I have this phobia about job interviews. Not because I'm afraid I won't get the job. On the contrary, I've gotten every job I've ever interviewed for (excluding acting, of course). I'm actually afraid of getting a job I really don't want. I feel like my track record is such that if I interview, I'll get it, and then I'll be stuck in some shit job that I have no desire to do. Today's double offers are just an example of that. I must say, selling out and putting dreams on hold aside, this certainly is a load off my mind. I'm looking forward to being single, being self sufficient, and living my life on my terms. (read: getting shit paid the eff off.) Thank you, employment gods. You have certainly smiled upon me. Stay tuned for details as the working begins...

I'm wine drunk, and a little stoned, and this might just be a tad incoherent. My apologies.