I want to wear this shirt every day.

Just for today, I have Bitch Power.

Giant sigh. Frozen waffles with honey. Disillusionment. (Beware: Self-pity blog approaching).

In the past three years, I went from young hopeful, aspiring writer, to bitter, jaded, I Don't Know What Anymore. Screenwriting and acting didn't do me in...I can live with a world that doesn't want to see "Angry Young Women," (my late twenties tribute to my relationship with my father) in celluloid (not to be confused with my cellulite, which the world also doesn't want to see). And I can live with the realization that I will never have a loud, emotional breakdown on stage because it feels creepy and weird and that that is a good reason not to pursue work in the thea-ta. However, of all the dysfunctional, People Who Need Therapy-ridden industries, it's the world of book publishing that turned the knife in my heart into a screwdriver, and sucked the young hope out of me with one of those dentist office suction machines. (More mixed metaphors...)

There's a reason I live in California. You can't argue with money, fame and Botox. They aren't personal, they don't judge or criticize, simply stand around to be admired. And you can't argue with computers and technology simply because most people don't know how ("You call that software?! I'll show you some code"). But no amount of Time Magazine covers will convince snooty book-reading people that your 700 page opus isn't merely a good way to make the step stool ladder a little higher. When you have a brain, and can articulate things, and a cultural education you can be caddy and cruel in a way that could never resonate when talking about Jennifer Aniston's personal life or Meg Ryan's plastic surgery.

I used to write movie reviews, but always felt that they merely reflected my own self-loathing. Now I blog, so it's all out in the open.

Another giant sigh!

Just for today, I am disillusioned.

Today, I saw Arnold walk out of an Italian restaurant in Brentwood, amid a flock of men in black suits with curly wires coming out of their ears...I later learned that he was on his way to meet Obama at a different restaurant. Why didn't they just dine together? Guess someone didn't want to budge (Arnold), and miss out on his favorite calamari (I totally get it). So, they must've planned on having an afternoon Cappuccino...which all begs the inevitable question: What did these men talk about?

Obama: Don't know about you, but I could really use a "me" day...
Arnold: No kidding, I was really hoping to catch a showing of Eat, Pray, Love.
Obama: Isn't it inspiring when white financially privileged American women take extended trips abroad to find themselves?
Arnold: Oh, I get it...the minute I lose an election, I'm booking my month stay at an Ashram. Actually, today my morning meditation brought up a some intense childhood feelings of helplessness...in fact, I almost started to cry, but then I jumped in my Hummer and ran over the neighbor's yard. I felt instantly better.
Obama: I thought they didn't make those anymore...
Arnold: Uh, hello? I'm the Governor!...I mean, the Terminator...
Obama: Do you think they have any gluten free cobbler here?
Arnold: Are you kidding?! It's West LA!
Obama: That's no joke! I haven't seen a Black man since LAX...
Arnold: If you think this is white, you should've seen my father's Christmas parties.
Obama: Hey, man, I don't want to hear any apologies about that Nazi stuff...not right now. We got work to do.
Arnold: Oh, darn! I left my agenda at the Italian restaurant...can I borrow yours for a minute?
Obama: Ok, but just this one time. I'm not going to enable your disorganization.
Arnold: Got it. High five?
Obama: Listen, old man, just smile for the camera, and shake my hand.
Arnold: Old man?!

Just for today, I can have a star siting.

Are you wanting children but afraid that if you wait any longer you'll end up having parent/teacher conferences in the geriatric ward? Do you wonder if conventional notions of families are keeping you from the joys of child-rearing? Do you ever ask yourself, "Why am I spending all my time and money on couples counseling, when my true biological purpose is to procreate?!" Well, rest assured you're not alone...

Educated, (usually) self-supporting, creative, yogafied woman in her late 30's seeks financially stable, responsible male from strong gene pool, with stellar recommendations and an overall high degree of shit-together-ness. Must commit to parenting and child rearing till end of life. However, desire for long-term relationship is NOT required. Take parenting into the new milenium with this new model for procreation!

However, you must be ready for this life-changing responsibility! No active drug users, smokers, or people with furtive secrets need apply. Social drinking is OK.

Please note: ability to "connect" with me is required! I have to like you, otherwise...why would I want to have your baby? What constitutes a "connection?" Shared sense of humor, values, interests and sexual attraction. Well, then, if that's the case, you ask, why don't we just date? Because time is of the essence! I've got to get the show on the road! I don't have years to "work out a relationship." If something happens down the line, sure, I'm open to "falling in love." But please understand, the No. 1 goal is to produce 1 healthy child and get him/her through college. Understand?

But don't take it the wrong way...it's not that I won't "like" you...I'm just very goal oriented...

Potential applicants can meet me for coffee at Peete's.

Just for today, I am open to meeting the father of my unborn child.

Between the Crackberry, the FaceCrack, and my innate tendency toward self-obsession, whatever was left of my attention span has gone the way of Pantene's old formula. Now my hair is frizzy, some CEO just got a bonus, and I can't turn on the computer without suddenly finding myself staring at the wedding album of some white, educated, hippy looking people I've never met (the cousin of the wife of a guy I went to high school with...?) All I know is that they had a lovely ceremony in some wooded forest (Yosemite?) and served what looked like some pretty kick ass organic carrot cake. Meanwhile, my life goes by...enough with the voyeuristic lurking into other people's wooded forest weddings.

Just for today, I need to stay focused on...

I had been feeling isolated as a writer, which isn't hard to come by when you spend hours alone staring at a computer and waiting for the genius to pour through your fingertips (and then hating yourself when it doesn't come). I tried connecting with some writers and writer blogs, but inevitably got turned off and annoyed...everyone I met seemed too much like me without any of my imagined charming attributes. The Writer Personality, as far as I'm concerned, is a condition in need of a 12-step program.

So, last night, I reconnected with an old friend from my other life as a stand-up comic about writing, plays, dysfunctional families, and all that other stuff that goes with not drinking yourself into a coma. Afterwards, I felt better, and wondered why I hadn't thought to call him earlier. Later, I wondered if I've made all the important connections in my life. Sure, I'm always open to meeting new people, but am I done looking for friends?

In my 38 years of being terminally singe, artsy, and challenged in the area of intimacy, I have met a butt-load of people. Did I say butt-load? I meant boat-load. (Who wants to meet a butt-load of people? That's gross.) I may not be able to talk about my feelings with people (blog audiences excluded), but I have a talent for meeting new ones. It might be different for someone who has been married and raising a family, but since I spent so much of my youth, and not-so-youth mingling with the world, I have met quite a few soul mates. I guess when I was younger, I took these connections for granted, thinking that the world was one big therapy session. Sorry, my mistake. Actually, my life is one big therapy session.

I have met some great people, and made good friends. The ones who stick, really stick. Not on me, per se, like a leech, but more like a piece of furniture that has found it's home in the corner of the room. I may not sit on it, but it's position creates a flow of feng-shui that gives me peace of mind. (Stickers, leeches, an armoir, chair...could my metaphors get any more disorganized?! Ok, 'll try to stay within a category).

It's not that I don't want to meet new people, it's just that if I haven't met you, yet, there's gotta be a good reason, like, you haven't been born, yet, or you have been living in a cave (in which case, get out of your cave!).

I'm grateful for my peeps.

Just for today, I love my friends.