I'm working on energy management and manifesting great things in my life; like a new salad bowl, new sheets and maybe even a knife set. According to this new book I'm reading called "Excuse Me, Your Life is Waiting" all I have to do is feel something that I want and it will happen. The author refers mostly to money and relatioships, but I keep wondering, if I got really good...could I manifest another apendage? How about permanent world peace (created solely by me)? Or the ability to fly? I guess I should start off simply and focus on the sald bowl. I'll leave the advanced stuff for when I get really good.

I ran into my friend Sally today. Since I last saw her she has written a book on diet, started going to Agape, and begun channeling spirits. Not exactly in that order. Ever since I started listening to Esther Hicks-Abraham, it's not really THAT weird to hear about someone else channeling. But it's a little weird.

After speaking to me for about five minutes she suddenly held her hand out like she was stopping traffic and closed her eyes, as if something pained her. I asked if something was wrong and she said, "they have a message for you." I was pleasantly surprised. I rarely have other human beings paying that much attention to me, let alone non-physical entities. Anyway, she went on to tell me that their message for me was to stop eating sugar. I was a little irritated to hear that that was it. But since these were non-human entities, I decided not to argue.

"It's your drug, you know," she went on. Sugar is my drug? It seemed to me a slightly excessive analogy. Would eating too many Hot Tamales lead to me losing my job and becoming homeless? Still, my higher power had placed Sally as a channeler for these other guys to give me a message.

I was considering giving up my morning Thai Iced Coffees until Sally chimed in that it was all useless unless I gave up all fruit. "Natural sugar counts to." Gosh! Fruit and Hot Tamales?! If only because this strikes me as insane, I think I am a sugar addict. Thank God for higher power. Just for today, I can ask God to restore me to sanity and to let me know if bannanas still count as fruit.

If I hear one more person talk about "God's Will" vs. "My Will" in a meeting, I think I'm going to lose it. What kind of God wants us to have a completely different life than the one we want for ourselves? That doesn't sound like God, but a sadistic parent. I think a lot of people like to torment themselves or make themselves feel better by pretending that they don't really want a great life, a great love relationship, lots of money and a fabulous career. Life is so much easier when we don't try to go after the things we want. Except for the nagging voice of our inner child crying for release, we're really fine with whatever crap life brings us. No thanks! I'm through with any God who wants me to have a mediocre life. Just for today, I'm tired of God's Will.

Not to take away from the magnitude of any particular addict's story, but do I really have to wake up face down on the floor of a half-way house, in a pool of (OK, this is a GIANT cliche) vomit to experience spiritual enlightenment? It just seems like a long way to go. What about all the lost souls, like myself, who never met with any newsworthy drama in their disconnected Godless state. Never puked at SkyBar or got high with Keanu, but just got kind of depressed, let people walk all over them, and dated unavailable guys. It's no big Hollywood "28 Days," dramatic story, just your standard uninspired life. Do we get some milder spiritual awakening? Are we disqualified from writing a memoir or starting a new age self-help cult?

I guess it's far more interesting to read about the spiritual awakening of a supermodel who kicked her heroine habit and began a second career as a Yoga guru. Or maybe that's the People Magazine version.

Just for today, it's OK to have a mediocre story of enlightenment (if I even have it yet).

I could say "I am willing to give and receive love" twenty million times before I go to bed at night (along with the arm motion), or do my third inventory on my sex and love life (which is really fun to read to someone), or sign up for five Internet dating sites and meet guys tell me how "different" I look from my picture (yeah, and what's up with the shoe-horn nose piercing?! I didn't see that in YOUR picture), or give the creepy guy at the Christmas party a chance (before I realized that my undergarment wasn't doing its proper job...whoops, no wonder so many guys around) or flirt with the cable guy...but the truth is, I'm really sick and tired of doing anything about being single.

Forty-something guys I've kissed (I had insomnia one night and, yes, that's including all the 7th grade Truth or Dare/Spin the Bottle games), ten emotional entanglements (won't even get into the sex), two relationships that qualify for the "serious" category, and one burned out single lady. Ok, there are a lot of things I haven't done and a lot of places I haven't been. But at least I know that I don't need to try everything (because I have instincts for a reason). The point is, I'm done with the drama. I don't know if bitterness is the right word, because I'm not really angry with anyone. It's more a state of exhausted surrender, a sort of "I'm done," I've taken that exam, completed that obstacle course, climbed that mountain, fallen off that cliff, did that whole self-pity thing, did that whole "I'm fabulous" thing...who cares anymore!

Just for today, I surrender my love life.

Dear God,

What the fud? What is the deal here? I think I have a bad connection or something. I'm looking for some direction here and not to make a big snafu out of it, but I have tried everything; quiet meditations with burning candles, Buddhist temples, 12-step programs, and still...I get nothin'. If I did something to offend you, please let me know...because sometimes I let my mouth run. But, if you're speaking to me, you're going to have to get a little louder, bolder, flashier colors and so on. I'm looking for a billboard sign, possibly neon, with maps and clear directions.

Thanks!

Stella

My friend Margaret says that when things are easy and flow that means that the door is open and the universe supports our actions. When things aren't working it means that there is another path that is better suited for us, the proverbial door is closed. I'm not really sure how I feel about this philosophy. What if the gates of hell open up for me? Just because it's easy, does that mean I should waltz right in? Heaven might require a little bit of struggle and clamoring, but at least I'm trying to get into the right place.

Today I walked by Victoria's Secret right when they were having the annual bra sale and (being in a place where I'm working on owning sexier bras) I walked in, picked up a few heavily padded lace creations, and waltzed right into the dressing room. One of the bras made me look like I'd had a boob job operated by a balloon clown and the second one just...let's just say it didn't fit. I left my room (because there was a big line of angry bra-hunters waiting to use it) to go on my own hunt for some better (i.e., ones that fit) bras. Now, this took work. In the end, I waited in line for the dressing room, and I waited in line to pay for a black bra (wanting to be sexy is not a crime, wearing bras that make you look like you've disfigured your body for what you think might be sexy, is).

Did the universe intend for me to buy a bra today? Who the hell cares, except for what this says about the rest of my life. Exactly, how much work am I supposed to put into finding my soul mate (preferably none) and my dream job (again...preferably none). I hear my friends tell me about how their soul mate just "came" to them, or how they just "fell" into a fulfilling career. Truth is, parking tickets and unavailable men seem to magnetize towards me like a magnet to a refrigerator, and I've "fallen" into more than my share of temp jobs. I know, I know...I have to be what I want to attract.

Just for today, I'll keep knocking on some doors (preferably the ones that lead to Heaven), and walk through the ones that are already open and lead to good places.

People swear by it, some even say it changed their life. I don't think that daydreaming in front of a candle for fifteen minutes can possibly do me any harm, but if it's changing my life...I just don't know. Here's a little sample of my "meditative" state.

(Light candle. Sit on floor. Look serene.)

"Hmmm, OK, God, or whatever, let's give me some direction here...what do you want me to do with my life?...gee, I wonder if I have any more of that Trader Joe's caramel popcorn left. So many cute guys work at TJ's...too young for me...maybe I can get a job there...shoot, I forgot to call my aunt and thank her for the scarf...ingrate that I am...ok, let's get spiritual...what am I supposed to think about while I sit here?...rivers?...trees?...but I hate nature...so many bad memories...horrifying camping experiences...spider bites...didn't my eye swell up and then my Kindergarten teacher sent me home because she said I needed to go to the hospital?...nice parenting...too many hot toddies, dad! Ok, now I'm angry...let's see maybe if I play with the candle wax, I'll think of something else....damn!...now it's all over the carpet...this is not good....how long has it been?...fifteen minutes?...renewed resentment and wax on carpet...can I go to bed now?"

Just for today, I will continue with my meditation practice, despite present difficulties.

(Light candle. Sit on floor. Look somber)
"God?...hey, what's up...just checking in here...Question: why do I feel a gnawing (sp?) pain in my heart?...maybe I should wear my black turtle neck tonight....do I really expect to meet a guy in a bar?...too bad the vibrator's not working for me...it's like inserting a pager in your vagina...they should offer a class at the Learning Annex...wish I could still have casual sex...fun (sort of) followed by heartbreak (definitely)...no, thank you, those days are over...don't show that part on Sex and the City...except Miranda rocks, she's got the wise bitterness going on...do love that show...women friendships are the best...why are relationships with men so hard?...maybe I need to try being more dysfunctional....definitely more possibilities...lower my standards...no, that's not right, that's what I've always done..."don't be so picky" is what my father would say...thanks dad...so complicated...do believe in falling in love, unfortunately...when my soul mate gets here, I'll be too exhausted from waiting to have kids...he can be a house husband, I'll go earn the money....who needs kids right now...I just need a mate...have I reached nirvana yet?...."

Just for today, it's OK to think about love and sex while meditating.

Today I discovered that my integrity (i.e., propensity to lie) is easily challenged if start seeing dollar signs. I'm not sure this is a bad thing. Basically, wearing make-up is lying, but I feel more confident. Dying my hair is lying, but hell if I'm going to be gray (which some people can do far better than others). I watch movies that have characters and events that compromise my beliefs, I go to a church where I don't believe in the main religious symbol (has anyone heard of Jesus?). Maybe I'm just a liar and never knew this about myself. Does the universe really care? I somehow don't think so. I think people who police integrity are just miserable deprivation addicts. Still, I would NEVER do a beer commercial...I think.

Just for today, I accept that my integrity has some holes in it.

My Inner Being knows exactly who I am and accepts me as perfect. My Outer Being is forever trying to conform to the psychotic standards of American culture.

My Inner Being knows that I have the attention span of a Pop Rock and is cool with that. My Outer Being feigns rapt attention when I have absolutely know idea what someone is talking about.

My Inner Being trusts that I have been truly loved by the men in my life. My Outer Being thinks that they are the posers my father claimed them to be.

My Inner Being wants to sing Karaoke all day and night, my Outer Being wants to torture myself with "work" and "earning" money.

My Inner Being knows that it's OK to spend the day reading the profile of the 563,231 people in my network on Friendster. My Outer Being sends me into a shame spiral for surfing the Internet.

My Inner Being wants to break out in the song everytime anyone asks me a question about Dreamweaver software ("Ooh dream weaver, I believe you can get me through the night.") My Outer Being feels that I am not equipped to function in an office environment.

Tonight, I'm going to fill the hole in my soul with a pedicure. I'll try not to feel guilty that someone is dealing with my feet (more on that later) or think that any time the pedicurist laughs at something her co-worker says (I should really brush up on my Vietnamese) that she's really laughing at my feet ( I know they see feet all day, so why would I think mine are so hilarious? Because I am self-obsessed.) Anyway, the point is that filling my soul with God never helped me look more attractive in open toed shoes.

Despite my best efforts to seem "evolved," the name "God" has always referred to a hologram of an older white man in the clouds who moves people and events around like chess pieces with the logic and gamesmanship of John Ashcroft. Anyway, maybe I'm becoming more holisitic, (even while I take advantage of the struggle of Vietnamese immigrants so that I can sell out to LA's labor intensive beauty standard), or more conservative, like John Wayne, but my higher power doesn't extend beyond the molecules of my body anymore.

The point is that sometimes stupid things like pedicures and silly movies like "The Day After Tomorrow" do have a far more positive effect on me than sitting in a forced coma for twenty minutes waiting for the hologram guy in the cloud to make a bush explode.

Just for today, I will listen to my new (more materialistic) higher power.

Today is the day I'm going to try and find God (for lack of a better word...I actually associate words like "God" and "Freedom" with a deceitful, media-spinning, miliatary state, and body bags, but I don't really have time to make up new corny words for so we'll just pretend that "God" sits well with me)...

ANYWAY!...as you can see, I'm off to a pretty sad start. Finding God...hmmmm, small project really, after I sweep my hallway and stare at the bags under my eyes that emerged from a house guest who snored so loud it sent freight trucks through my REM (not the band, the state of mind that keeps me sane)...Anyway, now I'm sleep deprived, depressed, and I'm going to find God, so that I can leave my apartment.

So far, the only thing that I have found that resemble a "higher power" in my life (I'm going for corny and broke) are my good decisions; to exercise, put away my shoes and books, eat veges, say "please," and "thank-you." But that's not divine, that's like the common sense I was taught in Kindergarten. Maybe my Kindergarten teacher was secretly God?

It's getting kind of desperate now. The cynicism I am experiencing towards my life, my president, country, and building manager is wiping away the last vestiges of childhood faith like the tsunami. I'm worried that my common sense might drive me to ex-patriation (is that even a word?) or to lead a revolution. Shop or revolt? Find God or work on my photo album? As you can see, I'm really in a pinch and it's affecting everything. Because besides non-violence, kindness, respect and the right to say "no," I'm really feeling like an atheist.

Just for today, I appreciate anyone who hung in there with me... (thank you ;-)

After weeks of staring at my dwindling bank-account and doing my best to be grateful for things like the sun, gravity, and a healthy bladder, I have been presented with a sudden flurry of income producing opportunities (Halleluah!). Not that I'm no longer grateful for the sun, but it's nice to feel like a normal (i.e., gainfully employed) person again. In the past four months since I left my painfully secure (i.e., stagnating) job, I've 1) lived like a recent college grad (someone who stares into restaurants and thinks "who are those people?" 2) nearly completed my screenplay of "Stella's Search for Sanity" 3) contemplated left-overs in the refrigerator for unusually long periods of time 4) lost five pounds 5) cried like a five-year-old in front of my computer.

What I've come to realize is this: 1) living like a recent college-grad at 33 is humbling AND youthenizing (I'm making up words here...see how young I feel) 2) I don't care what anyone says, writing and working-full time DO NOT make for high-volume production 3) left-overs are scary to look at and sometimes to eat, too 4) earning good money is officially more important than lookin' sexy (if you're going to organize your life around shallow principles, you may as well be clear about your priorities...and when I say "you" I mean "I"), and 5) just because I feel like a 5-year-old sometimes doesn't mean I have to earn like one.

In the last four months I have had many wonderful people support me through some very challenging times. People who reminded me that "It will all work out because it always does" and who helped me feel much more than a job or a bank account. In a society where people are identified and labeled by what they do, I'm so grateful to have these people in my life.

Just for today, I'm grateful for the sun, the people in my life, and how far I've come.

I'm grateful today because...

1) My bladder infection is on hiatus. I'm hoping it's permanent and so am drinking asparagus tea as if I'm in the throws of self-care mode. However, yesterday I did break down and buy myself a chai tea latte [you know you're getting old (i.e., boring) when buying one caffinated drink a month sends you into a world-wind of vice-ridden shame...(I love brackets...)]
2) I just pulled my new jeans out of the dryer and was able to peel them on (after a semi-vigorous struggle). The guy at the store swore that if I could fit into them AT ALL, I should buy them because they would definitely stretch. OK, told him. Just know, if I die from lack of blood circulation, it's your name I'm going to whisper out with my last breathe ('cept I forgot his name).
3) After weeks of agonizing on the Los Angeles traffic web site and after spending forty minutes in line, the state of California has graced me with the opportunity to pay my traffic violation. Why it's so difficult to pay traffic tickets in Santa Monica, is beyond me! However, I'm just grateful I didn't get whiplashed with late fees by the efficient (fascist) traffic division of state governemnt (why can't those people work in education?).
4) I'm grateful that the cop who gave me the ticket didn't nail me for not wearing a seat belt (I usually get off easily...one benefit for being scared and female).
5) Southern California has now started to feel like Southern California.

Just for today, I am grateful.

So, what is up with this rain?! I moved to Los Angeles to enjoy sunny weather 24/7. I haven't even had a chance to put away my collection of tank tops, and I'm having to pull out my one sweater. Not to mention, that a tropical rain storm in September (in Los Angeles) is just plain creepy.

So, what's up? Would you like a cup of coffee (I myself am abstaining one sorry day at at time)? No? Ok, let's get down to business. I liked your work in "Bruce Almighty," not so good in New Orleans. I know, I know. You didn't build a city sea below sea level without proper protection, and you didn't elect George Bush (I take responsibility for not doing more to prevent that unnatural disaster). But come on! Not to be gossipy or anything, but people talk about you all the time, and some people are starting to say that maybe you're not ALL THAT.

The truth is, I've never really been able to embrace the idea of a God/Higher Power or even a "the universe." These days, I'm starting to wonder if maybe you're just a source us mortals need to turn to, like a river stream, or even Target. A place to go and buy the goods. Only, instead of tampons, those goods are love, faith, and trust. Because if you can love an orchid or a giraffe or even algae (which, is technically, living), then surely you can love me. And anyone who can put that much attention to detail into making a baboon's butt has surely got some time on his/her hands!

I hope you've enjoyed this little chat. I gotta go to yoga, but let's talk later.

Just for today, I can talk to God.

I was having coffee with a friend when a friend of hers walked in and joined us. This woman just happens to be a tarot card reader so we were able to talk astrology for a while. However, when she asked me about my moon sign I couldn't answer her. It was very embarrassing. I spent the rest of the day asking myself, "where's my moon?" And I thought I was just a Pisces. She was, however, very sympathetic to the plight of Pisceans. She said that we're the garbage dumpster of the zodiac. While that doesn't quite sound like a compliment, I can relate to the challenge I experience in social situations when I want to peel out of the fifth conversation about relationships gone bad...

Just for today, I can accept my sun sign.

Dear God, please bless my family and guide them to health and happiness.

And please, because I like watching TV before I fall asleep, let there be some kind of cheeze-ball 80's movie on HBO right now (except don't let it be "Dirty Dancing" because that was on last week) and let it be half-way over so I'm not up all night because I'm dying to see the "Nobody puts Baby in the corner!" scene (or it's equivalent in any other movie...of course, there is no equivalent to this scene, but you know what I mean).

And keep up the nice weather up! Thanks!

Just for today, I can pray before I go to bed.

Some days (who are we kidding?...every day) I wish that some benevolent female Godess spirit figure (Cate Blanchette in "Lord of the Rings" would do just fine) would come down from the heavens and put up a billboard in my apartment with an agenda starting with the bullet point "Next Steps" (this is how I've been trained to end all meetings at work...). It all started when I got bored with college in my sophomore year and realized that I could no longer look to anybody to help me figure out what the next move in life would be. Since then it's been a perpetual struggle between The Program that the "normies" got (go to grad school, meet husband/wife, travel the world in Euro Disney fashion, buy house, have children...you know the drill...) and weird artist people who wander around cities like Los Angeles and New York (and maybe some in that stuff in between). Forget about making a living and having relationships, nothing prepared me for the sheer anxiety and confusion that groping around in the dark of life's choices would bring. If only someone had sat me down and told me the truth, "You're going to be alive for a period of time and unless you're willing to commit to some type of addiction, it's going to be really #$%&* confusing...so just deal with it." Trust me, that would have been much better preparation than Catechism, SAT Prep, and Drivers Ed all rolled up in one...

Just for today, life is confusing.

I recently saw a celebrated Spiritual Guru in Los Angeles speak on the topic of forgiveness. Throughout her talk, I couldn't help but wonder how much of the donations to the service would go towards her Botox treatments. I know there isn't a law that says a Spiritual Guru needs to look like a bald eunuch whose been fasting for three months, but it's comforting to have the General in the trenches with you (not that I've ever been in trench warfare, or fasted, but I have been practicing aging for a few years) So when a 60-year-old woman who looks 35 talks about letting go without moving a brow muscle, I don't think it's unreasonable to agree with the idea that we teach what we need to learn.

I haven't done any Botox (yet), so maybe my cavalier attitude at 39 is bout to change (bring that shit one!). However, I do have some thoughts on forgiveness. I think in order to forgive someone who has hurt you, one (me) must first remove oneself from the relationship/situation. Forgiving while being bludgeoned may have worked for Christ, but shoot, his dad is God! It's like Meadow Soprano getting dumped by her boyfriend, she might be hurting but he's going to hurt a lot more.

Just for today, I can ponder forgiveness.

Now that I'm no longer having my soul suctioned out on a daily basis by working for The Man or the MadMen or the Madvertising Industry, I'm realizing the cost of ignoring my integrity. I feel cleaner, like I don't need to shower everyday. My current gig is in-house at a mostly Latino-run company. I guess, technically, I'm still working for The Man, but he's got more women and brown skinned people running the show, and less douchey slime balls. (Should I hold back?)

That said, I was up till 4:00 am last night with the awakeness of a double espresso shot of jet fuel. And I don't think it's because I watched an entire marathon season of "The Walking Dead," (ok, maybe a little). Rather, with the advent of integrity, comes more getting-super-real-with-yourself moments and realizing that Denial is starting to overstay his (yes, it's a man) welcome.

The purpose of denial is self-preservation. If we saw reality clearly every day, we would surely never get out of bed. Let's face it, denial and fun have a lot of overlap. I love to blanket the harsh edges of life with shopping trips and wine and flakey men who don't burden you with anything so unromantic as Reality..

But at a certain point in life (like right before you turn 40), integrity starts to less messy.

Ok, so back to the The Walking Dead this weekend. Zombies are really fucking scary. Vampires? Meh. Kind of cheezy. Werewolves. Take them to the dog park. But zombies...they have no brain. They don't think. They just consume.

Zombies also don't come back to their humanity. And that's what's really scary.

Just for today, I want to walk amongst the living.