My new dating plan is...well, it's not really a plan, it's more of a philosophy. Basically, it's a plan to not date. Dating is weird (to me), anyway. It's like another job...and more pressure (and I have enough jobs and pressure). So, the deal is this...I meet a guy who I might consider having children with and then....(drum roll) I become his friend. I know! Very revolutionary. While the drawbacks are that he might be dating someone else or engaged or married (I hope that would be evident)...the benefit is that IF he's single and let's say...retarded, hates women, can't get over his ex, has commitment issues (unlike myself) or retarded (not to disparage people with mental disabilities, but a friend of mine once told me of another friend who thought she was dating someone who actually was retarded...), I will (hopefully) come to see that before "getting involved" (my favorite euphemism for sex) and able to disengage without any weird "I just don't think we're a match" conversations.

It's brilliant, really. I mean, it might be obvious to some, but this is a total revolution in my life.

Just for today, I have a dating plan.

I took my mom to my super hard-core Power Yoga class (which is dedicated to making people spiritually connected AND ripped). And while I tried to focus on the toe nail six inches in front of me during our second Warrior III, I have to say I was constantly worried that my mom was at risk of getting some power yoga injury. But it turns out, she loved it. Very weird.

Just for today, I can do yoga with my mom.

I have a Shakespeare anthology that I love because my mother used it in college and then, when I went to college, I used it as well. It has both of our notes in it and I love it because I love Shakespeare and I love my mother and it represents a passion that we both share. The other night I busted it out in acting class to find the monologue that a fellow thespian was about to perform on stage. However, just at the place where my fellow thespain began her monologue was a giant black hole in my book.

"What's that?" asked my other fellow thespian who was reading over my shoulder.

I was embarrassed to tell her the story, so that is why I will share it in the broad daylight of the Internet. A few years ago a momentary infatuation brought me flowers and in a fit of insanity, I stuck a flower (because sometimes when I'm in relationship to a male, my normally highly functioning brain seems to switch to the OFF button) in my favorite Shakespeare anthology and, thus, ruined a true passion for one that proved false (insert appropriate Shakespeare quote here). The flattened flower, which I removed in a moment of disgust, left a big moldy black hole in a bunch of pages (VERY STUPID, I KNOW!). Which brings me to the moral of the story which is a) never press flowers in a book you like b) never - under any circumstances - press flowers given to you by a guy (even if he's your husband) and c) don't choose Cleopatra's "I dreamt there was an Empereror Antony..." monolouge cuz it's kinda Tiger Beat (if you know what I mean...if you don't, don't worry, it's not important)....

The point is this: few relationships will outlast Madres and Shakespeare.

Was that not a humbling story to tell?

Just for today, I can humble myself on the Internet.

It's been a crazy time for me, what with having a job to go to every day and all...(what's up with this five day work week...have people gone INSANE?!). So, here I am, supporting myself by working for The Man while I race on the hamster wheel of my own making (I haven't actually made a hamster wheel for myself - yet - it's more a figure of speech). But amidst filing my taxes, applying for writing grants, and ALMOST becoming a certified member of the local yoga cult (I know how the chanting goes, I just don't always feel like doing it), I have learned one thing....and that is...Fedex/Kinko's is evil. Yes, Satan is alive and well, and you or someone you know may be consorting with Him (Hey, if God's a man then so is Satan, you just can't have it both ways). Why? Two words. $.49 a COPY (actually that's three words, if you count money as a word) if you print out from their computers!!! Not to mention the $.25 a minute to use a computer.

I don't mean to get my flaming liberal on, but somebody is making $$ and it sure isn't "Robert" at the front counter.

Just for today, I'm not to busy to be annoyed.

Move over Tony, Christopher's takin' the helm (for those of you not blessed with HBO, some dramatic events ocurred last night that I will try to relay, but that you'll probably figure out by reading this blog).

Prediction: Forever changed by his proximity to death, Tony will have a spiritual crisis that will gradually lead him out of his life as a mobster and towards the dual life as informant to the FBI. Christopher will spiral out of control as the new leader and eventually be on the hunt for Tony (both to avenge the murder of Adriana and to be just plain mean...). Carmella will sell all her material goods and move to Denver where she'll open a boutique catering to rich old ladies, and Dr. Melfi will realize her deep, unconscious, passion for Tony in a fiery love scene that takes place on a kitchen counter (ala The Postman Always Rings Twice).

Or maybe not. But something along those lines.

Just for today, I can make predictions.

I'm not a big TV person, but I have been waiting since August for this night...God bless David Chase.

I know this may not be shocking to some (many), but I'm amazed I made it to (BORING) 34(?!) without getting hit by a bus. I guess it's the last dying breath of my rock star fantasy that I would die and leave behind a legacy of unedited half-baked blogs that would immortalize me to a generation of people who are bored at work...(I guess it's not the same thing as "Bobby McGee" - well, that and Janis Joplin died at 26). ANYWAY, I guess NOW I'd better think of something to do with my life!

My mother made her traditional birthday phone call to me this morning to which she added, "Remember, you're SPECIAL!" I can't help but think that this is somehow meant to console me for...? I don't know, a life lacking in, say, KIDS, SUBSTANTIAL SAVINGS ACCOUNT, HUSBAND, ACCOLADES...(just some thoughts).

I do appreciate being special. I'll let this thought cuddle up next to me and keep me warm at night while I watch Sex and the City (LOVE THAT SHOW!) re-runs on chanel 5 (my evening ritual). Maybe I'll let it give me a back rub and make me breakfast in the morning.

Before I end the first day of my 35th year (what?!) I would just like to say to my mother that I LOVE YOU AND THANKS FOR THINKING I'M SPECIAL (THOUGH, ISN'T THAT WHAT MOM'S ARE FOR?)!

Just for today, I can turn 34.

If I could learn to blog when I'm not bleary eyed with sleepiness, I might someday write something relevant. Maybe I would even write some incisive quip about how dull the Academy Awards were...alas, I'm so tired of them, I can't even hate them. I'm going to sleep so I can be alive on my birthday.

Just for today, on the eve of my solar birthday, I am barely coherent.