How do you feel, Alathariel?

ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
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ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
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ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
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ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
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ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim
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ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim

i love him.

Mini Me

I had a dream that I had a baby girl. My cousins and I were taking pictures of her, "ooh she's so cute!" ing her, saying how much she looked like me. Well, she was me. It was weird. I know what I looked like when I was a baby, so naturally that's what a dream baby of mine would look like. She was adorable. In my dream she was nearly two. (When people become parents, they count the baby's months until the kid is 4 years old. It's annoying.)

Dreams have huge impacts on our lives. I want a baby. I did before, but seeing this wonderful little mini me made me want one more.

But ...psychologists might say that I want my childhood back. And I do. I want to be new again (to quote Adaptation).

But... also, I just want a baby. I want my little girl. I think Isabella. Or Isabelle. Izzie, either way. And I want my little boy who is nameless at the moment but he will be a mini EG. Who wouldn't want a mini EG? My little gentlman and little lady. Life will certainly be so good. It's so good now, but babies would give me something more. Being a nanny all the time shows me how wonderful it is to have kids. Once, the mom in Switzerland, who seemed pretty stressed about the day to day mundane-ness that is work, was playing with her baby and she suddenly said: "Oh, have kids, Alathariel, it's the best thing that will ever happen to you."

I want the best thing that will ever happen to me!

If You Try Sometimes

You just might find you get what you need?

The operative words here being "sometimes" and "might."

I know someone who is a lucky, lucky girl.

I love her very much. She's my best friend, I've always wanted to be like her. She's a wonderful human being, full of light and energy and together we are going to take the world by storm!

She doesn't need anything. Well, that's not true, she needed a boy. A Nice Boy. And she's found one.

Once she found him, she didn't need anything. She owns a place, she has no debt, she has a job she's good at and parents to fall back on if anything goes wrong. She has great friends who love her, she has the coolest clothes in the world and she is full of good times. In need of nothing.

But she's getting EVERYTHING. Everything she's ever wanted. No, actually, she's getting everything I ever wanted. How is that fair? She doesn't want a house and a marriage and babies! But she's getting them! She didn't need financial stability! But she's getting it.

I don't begrudge her these things, I'm happy for her! I want her to be happy. But why can't I have them, too?

Karma must be real. Hers is amazing and mine is shot. I guess I'll work on it and see what happens. I'll try sometimes and get what I need.

Limbo

I am in a sickening rut. When I'm with a friend, or anyone really, I feel good. I'm on, I'm happy, I'm me. When I'm talking to EG, I feel good, I'm on, I'm happy, I'm me. When I'm alone...I'm lost. I'm stuck. I can't sit down, that's too lazy. I can't stand up, I don't know what to do. I feel completely overwhelmed with responsibility and loneliness.

I can't get myself out. I need people. I need people to kick my ass, but everyone I love is so fucking understanding!

Sleepless

Can someone stop me from thinking EG is sleeping with someone else just because I don't hear from him at night?

Except what I really need is someone to stop me from caring that he is.

The Rain in Spain Stays Mainly in the Plain

This is going to be a good blog. Not because of the writing. Because of the content.

I told EG about the Die Vampire, Die! song because he wasn't sure if he was an artist, and that's a vampire. And I said we'd kill all the vampires in our way. And he loved the idea, and he said he loved killing vampires. He wants to go to Spain for the summer to learn Spanish and he asked what I thought about that. I said it would be killing lots of vampires to do so and that I liked the idea! ...but that I like all of his ideas more when they involve me. So the next message said:  "Princesse Alathariel, there's no one like you. Would you like to live in Spain with me for the Summer?"

So...guess what I'm doing this summer?

The I'm -copying-everyone-else New Year's Post!

New Years and stuff...hmm.

Well, last year, I wanted the stuff from the Wizard of Oz:  Brains, Heart, Courage and Home.

I think I'm a little smarter.

I definitely use my heart the way I'd like to.

I don't know about courage...hmm...Have I been brave lately? I think so. I could always be braver.

I don't feel at home yet. In Toronto, in my apartment, in my own skin.

I miss my lovah. More than anything. All I can do is achieve my new new years resolutions (we made them together right before midnight on Dec 31st, at the lodge where we went skiing!):

1. Get out of debt. This is the most important thing in my life right now. How depressing is that? How boring! Oh well, it's necessary.

2. Get an agent.  yup, I'm on my way.

3. Get three paying gigs. Must get agent first.

4. Put on 3 Bottom's Dream (my theatre company) shows. One's booked for March, 2 are being written.

5. Get in shape. Again, boring. But it doesn't have to be. I just want to be skinny and healthy and glowing all the time. And I want to be able to take the stairs without losing my breath. 

Now I want all these things for myself...but is it bad that my main motivation is EG? I want him to love me and want to see me all the time. I feel like accomplishing these things quickly and spectacularly will result in us being together forever.

How I miss him. 

But I'm trying to stay positive. I keep telling myself I'm amazing and I will accomplish everything I need to and then I'll be so happy and happy people get what they want. Or is it people who get what they want become happy? Oh well, I think it's cyclical and I'm doing it.  I'm fucking spectacular and therefore I will get what I want.

I should probably get back to work now.

Office Musings

None of the blog circle read my most recent post.

But EG did. And he freaked out. Because I'm a psychopath.

And I learned something again.

He's always right.

I also learned that I love him more than I thought I did.

It really did sound like I'm not happy, like I want more.

I don't want more for now. I'm happy for now. But I managed to make him understand that the fear kicks in because I know the exact date when I won't be happy anymore.

I wrote all that because a) I wanted to get it out, and indeed, I didn't really think of it since I wrote it, and b) I'm trying not to give all the marvelous details. I'm trying to add a little mystique to this experience. I can't tell you all what the sex is like. I just can't, it's too good. I can't tell you what sleeping with him or waking with him is like. It's too amazing. I can't tell you how fucking fantastic it feels every time he kisses me in thanks for a meal, or holds my hand, or laughs at my accent, or makes me laugh like a child, or shows me his dissertation, or looks at me.

It's too perfect to discuss. I'm just living it.

Well, not now, now I'm at work, wishing I was at home with him. I hope I can leave early, his smell is starting to leave my senses and I want it back in there. I want to immerse myself in all things English Gentleman until the second he has to leave me. 

I will not think about that moment until that moment.

I will not break down until then.

Just a Girl

Just as I predicted. I'm in heaven.

Pure bliss.

Interrupted occasionally with near tear experiences triggered by sudden fear of never seeing this perfect man ever again, or the terrifying fact that he says I'm "the best," something my ex insisted on saying in lieu of "I love you."

I've had friends explain why I neeeeeed to hear the words. I've had friends say it's unimportant, and I've had friends look immediately bewildered, angry and worried upon learning he hasn't said it yet.

I want not to neeeeeed him to say it. But I want him to say it. Will it solve all my problems if he simply says it? If I hear him say it, will it make me believe he'll want to see me again? That he'll try to see me again? That he'll want to move here? That he'll continue to keep me wet all day long and fuck me mercilessly all my life? That he'll support me forever and keep me warm and safe in his big arms for as long as we both shall live?

I don't think so. I would not expect all those things if he told me he loved me. So why does he feel all the pressure? Is that the problem? That he feels pressure? I'm pretty pushy about this, I guess. I scared the last one. But this one's different. He doesn't scare so easily.

So what's the problem? Does he not love me? Has he met me? What's not to love?

Does he just not say it? To anyone, ever? If we get to be together forever, I wouldn't mind if he never said it.

So someone remind me why I neeeeed to hear it? He's HERE. It was hell to get him here, on my side and on his. He's happy here. Happy with me.

Qu'est-ce que fuck is my problem?????

But also, qu'est-ce que fuck is his problem? Why won't he just say it????? This is agony! Looking up into his perfect light marble blue eyes and watching him kiss my hand with the softest deep pink plush lips in the world, hearing his views on anything, the fact that he makes football seem like an art, the fact that he worships my voice, tells me never to let anyone make me feel bad because I'm an "amazing woman," reading his brilliant paper, his arrogance, his wonky tooth, his accent, his manners, his mannerisms, his long body, his nakedness, his dick, his nose, his gifts, his surprises, his sharpness, his softness, his oohs, his kisses.

The best kind of agony, but agony nonetheless.

That makes it sound like not heaven, not bliss. It is heaven, it is bliss.

I'm just a girl.

A Little More Action

Sex sex sex. That's what's on my mind. The sex part of EG's Great Canadian Food Sex and Football Christmas Adventure is exciting me to no end. I have been looking up games online, positions in books, thinking of my own fun mystery objects, treats and activities!

If any of you are feeling particularly sexual, wanna give me some ideas? Tips? Games? Positions? Anything is welcome and just waiting to be tried!

I can't wait to have sex with EG! A million times a day please. If he's not eating or watching football, he should be fucking me. That's the rule of this trip.

I really am going to be sore by the end of this...

Drunken Texts, Censorship and Body Odour

 I just wrote a lot only to delete it all realising I haven't blogged certain details that might be crucial to this rant.

So about two weeks ago, I saw Enchanted (best movie ever!) and instantly felt like a lovely, innocent, naive princess who believes whole heartedly in true, true love who suddenly finds herself in the "real world" where there are no happy endings. I didn't want to make EG suffer my insanity, so I decided to get really drunk and text my ex, yelling at him for saying he was "still very much in love" with me. I thought I had a good reason! I was scared that it was going to be like that with all boys! That they would freak out when I said the dreaded word, and then when I had enough of their fear and reluctance, they would suddenly realise that they loved me more than life itself. That's a horrible fate! So I thought if I could yell at my ex, I'd purge myself of that fear and be able to believe in true, true love without doubt, no matter how little the object of my desire says. He is a big strong man after all, I don't want a pansy. 

Follow? I wouldn't blame you if you said no.

So I start texting him and he texts back all offended and REASONABLE! What the hell right does he have to be rational and logical and reasonable when I want a fight?!? Anyway, he made some really good points, but I still think I'm right. He said he thinks it's right that we're not together but he's still in love with me. I say, that's not love. He said I had no right to claim I'm the only one who knows what love is, and that there are different kinds of love. Okay, but isn't it pretty straight forward at least on one point: If you love someone, you want to be with them! He doesn't love me, not in any big way, or else he'd fight for me. I'm right here! If you love me, then you want to be with me! If you don't want to be with me, then you don't love me! Jeez. 

Anyway, at around 3am our time, 8am England time, I get a call from EG! I was so excited "EG!" I cried, "You called me when you woke up! How lovely!" and he said, in his beautiful English Accent: "I just got this text. It says 'Because I'm drunk and it's true. And I want to deal with this with you so I don't have to deal with it with EG.' What does that mean?" INSTANT TEARS. I explained everything and he was very upset but the conversation ended with him making me giggle and we're fine now. Better than fine! He's coming soon!  I'm so excited! Anyway, I kept getting more texts from my ex and I finally sent back "forget it, I'm done." 

Bitch, I know.

He said "okay, I hope everything works out for you and if you want to try again to be friends someday, just let me know."

Asshole, right?

So! The other day, I got an email from my ex saying he was in Montreal doing his LSATs and he was feeling lonely so he checked my facebook (big mistake) and it made him sad, and then he read ALL my blogs since we broke up. WTF! The crazy thing is that he said it made him feel better! He understands now! He understands everything! He said he gets what I wanted and how he couldn't give it to me and he hopes he can find what I found one day! What a weirdo. But what a relief! Anyway, I definitely have to send him a HUGE apology for being such a bitch.

What I wanted to discuss was censorship. We're about due for another censorship discussion, right?

Is blogging when you don't want someone to read your blog just as bad as talking behind someone's back? But it's not like gossip because it's about me! How I feel about someone! But knowing he's could very possibly read this, is it wrong to post something that will surely offend him? I like getting my feelings out this way, via blog. It makes little passing thoughts into momentous events preserved forever on the world wide web. It's as close as I'm going to get to immortality, and I want a little piece of that. I'd rather keep a scrapbook containing millions of little things or big things or medium things than forget it all. I'd rather keep memoirs in blog form than keep these thoughts to myself. I need to clean out my head and read what was in there in a pretty purple font on a pink page followed by funny or helpful comments from those whose opinions I value.

So I'm gonna go with No, it's not wrong. I'm easily swayed to the argument that lets me do what I want. 

Here's what I wanted to say.

I work with my ex's brother. I don't know if this is possible, but they are EXACTLY the same person. Is it possible? It can't be. Each calls the other "weird" but I have not observed ONE difference in personality, mannerisms, voice, smell, idiosyncrasies. It's insane. 

Now, here's the funny thing. 

About a month ago, said brother's smell made me feel a little sad and nostalgic. The smell of his sweater, really. My ex's laundry was always the best. Perfect boyfriend sweaters, the kind you just want to steal. The brother's body odor (gross as it sounds) used to make me feel sad and nostalgic too. Like a fond sigh remembering good times. 

Now, everything he says and does and smells like makes me want to scream! Okay, not that extreme, but bro just walked by and his smell made me nauseous. How is that possible? How did I become so disgusted by something that used to make me excited, happy, wet, comfortable, sad and nostalgic? 

I don't understand it. I just wanted to fill the world in on what walking by can do to a person. We are powerful!

what do you want from me?/is that so much to ask?

What do you want from me? My last post was super serious! I feel like I have nothing just because I don't have any money! For people who have it, or who are getting by, it may not seem like anything, it may seem funny that I'm counting pennies to take the subway, that I'm avoiding my roommates, some friends, the bank, the creditors and my own poor mother, that I'm going into banks and begging for loans that they shouldn't give me, that I'm lying to EVERYONE about anything to do with money and hurting people who don't deserve it in the process. But it's not funny at all. It's devastating.

I really feel like I've hit rock bottom, but the worst part is, there's far lower to go! I could get myself and my roommates evicted and have to live with my mom who has no room for me. And she doesn't really have to take me in because I, for lack of a more fitting word, steal from her. Consistently. And she can't afford me anyway. So there is lower to go and I'm afraid that there's some ridiculous Karma rule that I have to end up as low as I can go before I'm allowed to get better again. Not better, not again, I've never been good. I mean I have to hit the bottom before I can rise up a little for the first time. I know what to do now, really. I'm a law clerk! I make money! But I can't catch up! I don't know what to do to get myself to the point where I can do what I know to do. You know?

I talk a lot about winning the lottery, being a trophy wife, a gazillionaire. Oh the things I could do! I could own a private jet and see EG whenever I wanted! I could take my best friends on shopping sprees around the world! I could start a theatre, a warrior princesse TV show, a movie production company, a children's book store, a music label, a campaign against directors who only cast skinny people! I could get a personal trainer, a nutritionist, a personal chef, a stylist, a tailor! I could have a castle that comes to life with the wave of a wand and choice latin words spoken only in my voice. I could have a condo in Toronto, London, New York, a cottage in BC, on the Isle of Wight, somewhere in New Zealand...

I could have all those things, but I'm not asking for them. I just want to start fresh. I just want to be at zero.

Is that so much to ask?

Ain't Got No/I Got Life

ain't got no cash,
ain't got no shoes,
ain't got no bus pass,
ain't got no bread,
ain't got no work clothes,
ain't got no computer,
ain't got no ipod,
ain't got no umbrella,
ain't got no rent checks,
ain't got no skype,
ain't got no medicine,
ain't got no contacts,
ain't got no conditioner,
ain't got no milk,
ain't got no socks,
ain't got no razors,
ain't got no underwear,
ain't got no birth control pill,
ain't got no eyes on me (that means respect from the kids I teach)
ain't got no dentist
ain't got no christmas gifts
ain't got no winter boots
ain't got no bike
ain't got no lingerie
ain't got no long distance plan
ain't got no 20-20 vision


I got my head
I got my hands
I got my mind
I got my feet
I got my tits
I got my mouth
I got my hair
I got my sense of humour
I got my shimmy
I got my blog
I got my friends
I got my room
I got my hat
I got my ears
I got my EG
I got my songs
I got my books
I got my vibrator
I got my script
I got my voice
I got my memories
I got my ass
I got my plans
I got my tea
I got my mom
I got my dreams

I got life
life
life
life
LIFE!

Nothing but Sex/Christmastime is Here!

I suck for not blogging. I know this. And I'm ashamed to say, there's not much to say. I love my English Gentleman. Do you think it's easy to be far away from him? The answer is no, it is not easy. Do I talk about him all the time? Yes. Do I think about him all the time? Yes. Have I become a slightly one dimensional character because of this? Yes, I think so. Would I give any of it up for anything? No.

Do I still hate money? Yes. Do I still need it? Yes.

Do I love performing? Yes. And getting better at it all the time? Yes.

Do I like flirting with my girlfriends? Yes. Wait, I think this is new. Well, I have this thing where I flirt with my girlfriends. And by girlfriends, I mean just one friend. It's hot. Because she is. (giggle giggle!!)

Can I wait until EG gets here? NO!!!

Enough with the question answer thing Alathariel.

I'm planning a HUGE surprise for my man. Involving Food Sex and Football. It's called My English Gentleman's Great Canadian Food Sex and Football Christmas Adventure. I start with a song, then I show him the introduction booklet, then I give him the packages by section. Starting with food. I show him the menus for Chez Alathariel which includes about 30 dishes I now can make. There are also take out menus, and a list of cool restaurants we can go to whenever he wants. And there will be a list of pubs that show his games. Which brings us to football! I will have a schedule of all the games he can watch as well as the list of pubs where he can watch them and I will also wake up to print out all the sports updates from skysportsnews.com or something. Which brings us to the funnest of all! SEX! There will be Kama Sutra books, a book called Yoga for Lovers (because he started doing Yoga with his housemate, cutest thing ever!), and a wide arrangement of necessary supplies. And here's the best of the best. EG likes surprises, so I'm putting together a mystery sex bag! Inside will be handcuffs, a blindfold, coupons, position ideas, roleplaying ideas, costumes, a whip, a vibrator, and anything else amazing I can think of. I'M SO EXCITED!

***

My new roommates are HILARIOUS. They're ninjas. This is the ninja house. But don't tell them that, it's so ninja, they don't even know it's called that.

In the Ninja House, it's already Christmastime. We put up the tree today because there won't be time later! I was so happy!!! Christmas can't come quick enough.

An Adult Now

I don't believe it myself.

I'm using jargon.

I'm using the word jargon.

I'm speaking to doctors and requesting information.

I'm contacting the purolator people to quabble about cheques.

I'm printing cheques.

I'm a witness.

I'm wearing a pencil skirt and tights and I have make up on.

I'm faxing.

I'm wanting to kill the printer.

I know what a civil litigator is.

I'm using letterheads.

I have office voice mail and a work email address.

I'm typing cover letters.

I have a coffee mug.

I gossip with the receptionist.

I say things like "I'm gonna skip lunch and head out early."

I call important people and say "Hello, this is Alathariel calling from Mr Lawyer Boss's office, I'm wondering if it's possible to reschedule your meeting with Mr Lawyer Boss from November second to anytime after the 7th? On the 12th? Preferably in the morning? That's fine, thank you!"

I'm in an office, at a desk, on a giant mac!

I'm blogging while at work.

yup. I'm an adult now.

Englishtastic

Seriously. I mean, people make jokes that I only love EG because of his accent (and height and gorgeousity) and I brush them off because it's not true. I love him for his ideas, his voice, his eyes, his passion, his creativity, his appreciation of me, his appreciation of all things amazing, he love of sex, his love of football, his penis in my vagina, his need to travel and learn, his need to be a Buddhist monk but with me there so we can "break the rules together." Everything about him, I love. Everything. Well, not where he is when where he is is not where I am, but aside from geography, everything.

Though...he is English. And holy motherfucker is that sexy. Everything he says to me is heightened because of the accent. Like sweet things are a gazillion times sweeter when he says them and cool things are a gazillion times cooler and sexy things... oh man, just bend me over and fuck me mercilessly when EG starts to talk dirty. I can't take it.

I was just in a girly discussion about dirty discussion. A friend tells me that she loves the dirty talk. And I mean filthy. And not just the talk but stuff too. Filthy stuff. Aaaaand, it turns out the conversation itself was turning me on, so I thought I'd better talk about it with my man. So I did. I said a friend gave me courage to ask him to do stuff that I'd like to try. And the second he said "like what?" I got nervous. Well, I was at a bus stop so I really couldn't say stuff. But I hinted until he got really impatient and then I hinted a little more strongly until he guessed some of the things. And then there was silence. And then he said "I could do that." And just as I was getting worried he was turned off by my wanting that, he said "I love that you want that. That is so sexy." And then, and this is my favourite part, he said "you're in big trouble."

And I think I died. He kept trying to tell me he was serious and that I should live my last few months without him as if they were the last in my life because I was going to "get it" when he gets here. hee hee!!! I'm so excited.

part 2

I just saw Across the Universe and am now in love with Jude. Fucking sexy. Singing with a Liverpool accent is sex on a stick.

There's something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover.

Big Blonde and Beautiful

I want to be black. Now. Someone make it happen.

I love being called "a truly amazing woman." By a man. By an English man. By an English man who I love and think is also a truly amazing woman. But not woman. Man. English man. You get it.

Slice off a piece of that hog head cheese
Then take a look inside my book of recipes
Now, don't you sniff around for something fluffy and light
I need a man who brings a man-size appetite!

Singing and dancing and loving fat women and black women alike makes me feel wonderful.

Isn't it funny that wrists gross me out but touching my own eyeball doesn't make me flinch in the least?

Why doesn't everyone have a massage chair.

I am thankful for being home. And I am thankful for having met EG. And I am thankful for theatre. And I am thankful for my friends. And I am thankful for Spaghetti Bolognaise. And I am thankful for Hairspray. And I am thankful for teenage hearthrob Zac Efron.

Suddenly, after turkey tonight, I'm in the mood for green chicken curry coconut soup.

I hope my new room will be sufficiantly purple. Like the apartment I imagine Neenia and I living in.

If I didn't have to play a poor drug addict, I would be so incredibly proud of my body right now.

I offer big love with no apology
How can I deny the world the most of me?

Pukey

Skinny Rabbit wants me to move to England. Is that because he doesn't want me near him? Or because he believes in Love?

I believe in a thing called love. Though, not so much in that song, it got old fast. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love.

Are you throwing up yet?

The other day I said something lovely (as usual) on the phone to EG and he said "Oh, Alathariel, why do you love me so?" (Really, this is how he talks.) And I said "I don't know," but then I listed all the reasons that I frequently give all of you. He loves that I love him. He has a big ego that needs to be massaged a lot. I like being the one to massage it. I like making him happy.

You know what makes me happy? When he says my name. I used to think it sounded funny because my real name has an "r" sound at the end and those Englishmen like to not pronounce those kinds of things. But now, I love love love it when he says my name. I was in a cab once talking to him and he said it and I said "I love that, say it again." And when he did, I giggled, of course. So he said it again. And I giggled again. And then he wouldn't stop saying it and man did I ever get excited. It's embarrassing to get that horny in a cab. As if the driver could see me blushing or hear my heart pounding in the crouded nighttime traffic jam.

***

I need to lose weight.

I need to eat.

The solution?

Working out?

Throwing up?

Both?

I try not to eat after 6pm and then my new ninja roommate serves me saussages and cheese at midnight. I now love him.

I try to walk everywhere only to learn that that burns nothing and I cannot lose weight, I just get blisters. At least I'm not polluting.

I try to eat often but small portions. But you can't make small portions of spaghetti. Ooh...I have leftover spaghetti at home...

I try to eat three solid meals a day. Big breakfast, medium lunch, small or no dinner. Who the fuck can wake up at 6am and cook a huge breakfast and stomach it? Not moi!

I try to eat well and get outside and be active. I've been doing that for...a week now. And I want results! Where are my results!

I need instant gratification, por favor! I need to fit into hot things now! I need to start purging everything I binge! It can't be that bad for you! I need to spend all my money on some form of drug that makes me feel full, taste things like cheese and chocolate and steak, lose weight and be fit.

OR

I need a personal...person. If I had a personal person to tell me what to do all the time and help me do it (i.e. eat 5 small meals and then make me the meals) then I'd do it! And I'd have someone to talk to all the time. I get strangely lonely when I'm alone. Even for a short amount of time. I think being alone under willow trees for a year took a lot out of me. Anyway, someone send me a personal person to make me do stuff. Then my body will drive you wild with desire.

As if it doesn't now...

Untitled

My heart hurts with lack of English Gentleman. It's a disease. It must be cured. It will be on December the 14th, so I have to stay strong until then. There are a few treatments until then. The first is theatre and I'm about to sink my teeth into the best role I could ever get in musical theatre. The second is chocolate and I will keep a large supply of the dark stuff for emergencies (it'll be gone by next week). The third is friends and they've already kept me happy and sane. God I love them.

In other news, it seems as though my life is coming together in a way I've been hoping it would for a while. I'm going to be an assistant in a very cool lawyer's office, I'll be babysitting a couple days a week which actually pays a fortune, and I'll be teaching 4 ish classes a week. "Ish" because I think I'll only be assisting in 2 of them. I'm rehearsing for a musical, like I said the best part ever, and I'm co-putting on a burlesque show. I'm doing a kids birthday party this weekend (Anne of Green Gables themed) which will get me started in the department of doing kids birthday parties.

Hmm. Maybe it doesn't sound like much considering I want to be a movie star. I think I'm on my way though.

In the meantime, I have to fix this ache in my heart. Heartache I think it's called. It's hurting me and rendering me incapable of happiness when I'm alone. I hate being alone. I think I've grown allergic to it. I'm so done with it now. I'm so glad I have good company most of the time. I think I can't babysit every day as it's very lonely, even when the baby's awake and giggling. It just leaves me to my heartachy thoughts. And I have a lot of those. I don't think of much else when I'm alone. I hum to myself (to the tune of "Once Upon a Dream" from Sleeping Beauty) and think "EG is hot, EG is great, I love EG. The next time he comes here he will fuck me in this or that position and then I'll cook him breakfast. And I'm going to wear purple flowers in my hair at our wedding and our babies will be named Sebastian and Isabella.."

Should I move to England? I believe I have him wrapped around my little finger, so I think we'll end up here, but before that...before he's finished school, like next spring...should I move to England? Get a role in the West End while he becomes a sports psychologist? We could have a flat in London. Just the two of us. Ruling London town. Then we go to Toronto together, I get my theatre up and running and my TV show gets picked up and he can play for the Toronto FC.

"Are you an idiot?"
"No sir, I'm a dreamer."

The Life of the Party

I have to copy the Prince a little here. Needs vs Wants and so on...

"The Life of the Party" is...I think opposite of me.

Who needs money?
Not me.
Who needs fortune or fame?
I don't need a new career,
A sympathetic ear,
A name.

Okay, I do. I need all of those things. To survive? No, of course, I don't need any of those things.
But who's living just to survive? Can I meet those people and pinch them? I need those things to do what I want to do, to be where I want to be!

All I need is time to play,
Only want the game.

Listen, Kate from The Wild Party the Off-Broadway version, you can have all the time in the world to play, but how are you going to survive? I know you're not living just for survival, neither am I, don't lecture me. But survival is still an integral part of life. If you want to live you have to survive.

Point me to the mic
I know what I like!

Okay, that rhymes, that's why that's in there. But I do like the mic. So the song isn't my opposite. But mostly.

Who needs lovers?
Not I.
Who needs heaven above?
Don't have time for things unsaid,
For baking bread,
For love.

Okay, I'm starting to realise that, yeah, this Kate character is the life of the party, but I guess the play is trying to show that she's shallow. I hope anyway. I hope nobody expects me to not need lovers and heaven and mysteries and bread and love.

Love, bread, things unsaid, heaven, lovers--those things are the life of the party!

A name, a sympathetic ear, a new career, fame, fortune, money--icing, I guess? Well, I like icing, and I need it on my birthday cake.