I just don't understand why there hasn't been any media about what an ass Obama looks like trying to declare victory every other day. If the Madonna of politics is such a hysterical, delusional, irrelevant opponent why is she still in the race and why hasn't he won? And why does she keep winning? (Puerto Rico...). There's something to be said - though, nobody seems to be saying it - for this silent population of working class Americans who don't really pay the media heed.

Just for today, I'm so over the American media.

Things are looking up again...

...and it's not just because Sex and the City (LOVE THAT SHOW! EXPECT TO LOVE THE MOVIE!) is coming out tomorrow. And it's not just because the vitriol against Hilary Clinton has reached such a point of hysteria as to render it (at least to me) as a kind of disturbingly comical Jerry Springer-style face-slap fest (if that makes any sense...it sounds right). And, it's not because I just bought an ice blended coffee drink (although, the amount of money I've spend on coffee in the past three years could surely afford me some prime California real estate...especially now) and am experiencing the benefits of a caffeine and sugar fix. And it's not just because my current corporant gig is almost over...

...it's because...well...I'm sorry, but it is because my current corporate gig is almost over and, now that I've revisited the oppression (that I will likely visit again in the near future) I'm ready to go back and be a writer...

Just for today, I can see a hair strand sized ray of hope.

I didn't mean to offend anybody with the state of my life, the world, and the chilly vibe of Corporate America. I mean just because I don't value the freedom Capitalism offers me to buy $4.00 earrings from Forever 21, and gas for the same price, doesn't mean that it's all bad. And just because The Man's main priorities is to make dollars and not warm fuzzies doesn't mean that he has no soul or moral compass. No, he has a soul, it's just drunk from expensive vodka that comes in a bottle shaped like cologne, and his brain is fried from his bluetooth ear piece and too many free bagels.

Or maybe I just like to whine...?

Ok, so if I'm going to look at My Part, I may as well admit that responsibility + deadline is not a cocktail that sits well with me, which is odd for someone who spent a whole night in the yearbook office in order to publish that Bible of 90's angst.

Big, giant sigh.

Anyway, I guess there's a reason why I don't have kids or even a pet gerbil. I mean give me a couple websites to manage for a few days and I act like every decision I make is inches away from creating a nuclear reaction. What if I actually had real power? Or, real kids to screw up?

I wonder what a good gold fish goes for these days...

Just for today, I can reflect on my dramatic nature.

I'm feeling cynical these days....and it's not just because I went back to work for The Man (although, that's part of it).

While I forage for dollars (that are steadily decreasing in value) in the wild jungles of Corporate America, I'm getting sent Internet dating site emails that think I'm a man (don't even remember signing up), losing the last shred of faith in the democratic process (and am pretty sure I'm done with the Democratic Party...I'm currently shopping for a 3rd party to join...anyone?), and acknowledging the depths of my attachment to Forever 21 (the store, that is).

And I'm one of the lucky ones. I just keep thinking of all the families who still can't pay their electric bills, let alone the gas needed to get to work, as they struggle to buy groceries. Forget about health care.

Everyplace I have worked in the private sphere people work ten hour days and any unwillingness to sacrifice evenings and weekends for the sake of The Project and The Client is considered disloyal at best and a sign of a faltering work ethic at worst.

I often look in my closet and wonder if there's blood on my hands for this kind of cuteness (I try to buy made in U.S.A.). Not to mention, what I will have to answer to my children (or people who could be my children) regarding the wars fought during the last 15 years.

This is the problem with healthy sobriety...it's just too much reality.

Just for today, I feel depressed about the state of the world.

Work is hard (hence, the name).

Especially, the kind that I do. It makes me want to do things like drink white wine and buy shoes. It's a Sex and the City type job. Writing, on the other hand, makes me want to sleep, watch movies, and wear jeans and Ug boots every day.

Giant sigh.

Just for today, I can be tired from work.

They go with my slutty dress. I'm a little worried that the Over Thirty-Five Fashion Police might come after me, but I'll deal with them (in their high collar Talbot's outfits) when I have to. I mean, really, if I can't wear fun clothes from here on out I may as well keel over. So, I'll just be judged a little. It hasn't hurt Madonna. I'll just hang out with the inappropriate crowd at cocktail parties. That's the nice thing about being weird, you can do whatever you want.

I heard someone say once, "Money comes and goes, but I"ll never be (insert age number) years again."

Just for today, I can wear gold tights with my slutty dress.

I started a new job today, and I've been so nervous about it that I had a dream last night that I didn't get to work (today) till 3:00 pm. And, then, when I got there, I told my boss that I thought that's what time work started. Since when does the working day in Corporate America begin at 3:00 pm? In my dreams.

Anyway, the CEO of a company I worked for ten years ago was, as it turns out, the CEO of this company, and he claimed that he had lost respect for me.

In real life, I arrived at the appointed hour of 10:00 am.

Just for today, I can start a new job.

Between, yet, more news about cyclones, earthquakes, a collapsing Democratic party, not to mention the prospect of going back to work (yes, I got a job) combined with the effects of caffeine over-saturation (to make up a redundant grammatically degenerative word), today I decided to forsake my compulsive American work ethic and take my tired ass out on an Artist Date at the Getty.

What I like about the Getty is that it's on a hill, and it allows me to look over Los Angeles and, thus, put all the petty little problems sprawled out below into better perspective. I also like the tram. Oh, and the art is ok, too...

After wandering around the impressionist, and the depressing California Video exhibit (why is video art always dark and cryptic?), I thought, "Fuck it! Who needs art when it's 90 degrees out and I'm surrounded by fountains?" And so I sprawled out next to the southernmost fountain and decided to work on my tan while I closed my eyes and imagined that I was at a spa next to an infiniti pool. The blindingly white slabs made the sun extra strong and helped create the resort effect. Not bad for $8.

Afterwards, I went to the garden. This is my tribute to Georgia O'Keefe.

Just for today, I can get out of my funk at the Getty.

If I see any more images of a body part under some rubble, or read about any more people who lost children and/or a dozen relatives in Myanmar, or swallow any more of the thinly veiled contempt for the only candidate with an actual thought-out, well-developed health care plan, I'm going to need some meds.

Being well-informed is simply not good for my emotional health.

Just for today, I can practice abstinence from my news addiction.

I was having coffee with Avant Garde Artist Friend on Sunday and talking about dating, when I disclosed the number of emails in my inbox from old boyfriends and other confusions from recent history.

"I don't know what's going on. It's like I'm recycling," I said.

"That's so green of you."

I hadn't thought of it that way, but, really, it makes sense. Why waste valuable time spent on past relationships that take days, months, years to decompose?! Why not recycle old boyfriends and keep this world free of toxic relationship waste...(is this thing on?)?!

Because they didn't go anywhere to begin with?

Oh, yeah.

Well, whose to say I'm not going to end up buying the same outfit with a different brand?

It gets to a point where the confusion overwhelms rational thought. However, truth be told, getting to know new people is simply a lot of effort and I'm just plain lazy.

Just for today, I can consider the benefits of recycling.

Last night, Strange Creepy Salsa Man made a comment about my long, finger-like toes. Many years ago I was forced to accept the fact that my feet are not my best feature. Whenever I get a pedicure, I fear that the Vietnamese ladies are discussing where my feet rank among those also hit with the ugly stick between. Yes, they support me in dancing night after night, but no, they (my feet) aren't cute and dainty. But, then again, what role has girly-ness played in any woman's success and happiness? Over time, I have come to see that the women I admire and, in many ways, seek to emulate, don't really play up cute and dainty.

I remember when I was a teenager in the 80's and Madonna was on the rise. Or, rather, had been on the rise, but was on her way to becoming the monolithic powerhouse that she still manages to be. At the time, she was on the Blond Ambition Tour and critics were shredding her not-so-demure masturbation scene, and disparaging her whole shameless bad girl schtick. I remember seeing one commentator, an older man, state that he believed that there was something wrong with her, and that soon she would start showing signs of emotional instability and, possibly, suicidal tendencies. I remember wondering, at 14, if such was the fate of any woman bold enough to express herself, her sexuality, and make, well, lots of cash in the process.

Well...flash forward twenty years and Madonna may be a lot of things, but suicidal does not seem to be one of them. Great body, a ten+ year marriage, kids, and more money than God. If that's the product of emotional instability, then it's time to quit seeing my shrink...

Many have some negative reactions Hilary Clinton, too (in case the media hasn't made that clear), and in the past few days (for those who live in a wireless cave) have all but called her a delusional hysterical psycho-bitch who should hide her face in shame for daring to follow the democratic process. The tone of a lot of these articles reminds me of the commentator guy who said that Madonna would probably soon try to kill herself in 1986. Something tells me that the chances of Hilary disappearing from the political sphere are as likely as Madonna ever offing herself or my toes shrinking and my feet getting cute. Not everyone likes it, but certain things aren't changing.

There used to be some doubt, but I'm starting to think that the rancor and hostility directed at women that I admire, (would someone tell Ted Kennedy to go fuck himself?) is not the result of objectivity. And, I think some of that got projected onto my feet last night by Strange Creepy Salsa Man (fucker).

Just for today, I can love my ugly feet.

I used to think that bad research skills was a personal problem, but I think it's become an American issue...

The democratic nomination has never been a foregone conclusion this early in the race, EXCEPT IN THE LAST TWO ELECTIONS! And how well did that work out?! Otherwise, it's always been decided in June...

The vitriol with which the media has crucified Hilary for refusing to play nice is really worth some serious examination. To employ an overused juxtaposition, were she a man and still committed to WINNING, would she be quite so lambasted...?!

I'm extremely annoyed (in case you haven't noticed).

Just for today, I'm not drinking Obama flavored Kool-Aid.

My mom came to visit and we went out to dinner on Sunday night. Lately, it seems that whenever I'm out with my mom, guys approach me more. It seems that my mom is a Guy Magnet for me. Like, what babies are to men.

Anyway, my mom is never thrilled by the reception I give any guy who shows some degree of interest. Sure, it's easy for her, she doesn't have to live with him. She's consumed with visions of grandchildren. It's kind of a different story from my end. All I see is the ball and chain that will keep me from salsa dancing. Yes, I plan to keep talking about it in therapy.

Aside our talk about how I'm not "open minded enough" (in regards to men) we had a good visit and I ate lots of good food (my refrigerator is stocked).

Just for today, I can visit with mom.

I was sitting here at Peete's, drinking my crack, getting my democratic primary information fix, when it dawned on me that today's the five year anniversary of the very first time I posted Stella's Blog!

In some ways, this anniversary seems more significant than my stupid natal birthday (especially, now that I'm 36).

Despite it's many imperfections, the discovery of "blogging" way back in 2003 was an epiphany and a seminal moment in my very controlled boring life. Yes, this blog has many flaws: inconsistencies in posting schedule (there isn't one), a few, grammatical, and speling errrs, a sporadic flow of rational thought (cute guy just walked in), downright inappropriate personal content (expecting my period any day now), poor revenue source (I've earned about $100 so far), apparent permanent obscurity in this blog drenched world, and a low (yet, FABULOUS) readership...

...BUT WHO CARES?! Not me. Because I love my blog and it has helped me, countless times, put back the pieces of my sanity. And, what a coincidence that the name of this blog just happens to be STELLA'S SEARCH FOR SANITY!

Well, in a world where women pay money to inject toxins into their faces, and health insurance companies make huge profits off of cancer and other incurable diseases, and young men and women die for twisted political agendas, it's safe to say that there are far worse things than writing a self-absorbed blog.

Just for today, I can celebrate 5 years of blogging.

Whether or not Hilary Clinton becomes the presidential nominee, her campaign has changed me in deep and profound ways that I have never before experienced in American politics during my lifetime. Because of how I've seen Hilary Clinton persevere, I can't help but think of her whenever I am tempted to do the following:

1) Let other people tell me that I'm losing.
2) Believe that it's too late.
3) Trust the media (actually, didn't totally need her to figure that one out...).
4) Believe that changing my strategy is a sign of weakness.
5) Run away from a challenge.
6) Buy into the idea that ambition is unfeminine.
7) Give up...(wether it be on a marriage, goal, or dream).

I don't think most people understand the magnitude of Hilary's run for the democratic nomination. And I'm not referring to her desire to attain it. There's a reason why any single person can withstand the kind of onslaught she has endured over the years and, especially, the last nine months. And that's because said person, like Hilary, believes that what she's doing today - whether or not she "wins" - has a long lasting and important impact on other people.

I know she wants to win (and I want her to win), but that's really beside the point. The real triumph is that she's thriving on the battlefield of gender politics and whatever happens she's transforming the way Americans look at women in power. Whatever you feel about her, you have to admit this sister's got CAJONES!

Really, if it wasn't met with every force of resistance, it wouldn't be a revolution.

The fact that John McCain is even discussing health insurance is, in my book, another win for Hilary (who introduced it into the political sphere in 1992). Because what's really important is that we cease to rely on companies like Blue Shield (did I mention how they $#*& me?)!!

Inspiration for this blog was acquired from Robin Morgan's recent essay.

Just for today, I am inspired by Hilary Clinton.