It's been suggested for years now by every shrink I've ever had that I have some form of Seasonal Affective problem in the summer. Unfortunately, none of them really know how to treat it, since it's relatively rare compared to the more common version, seen with the waning light of the winter. I was speaking with a psychiatrist friend of mine today and as she's going to be consulting with Master P on a few issues ( like my weight, fatigue, hormones- her specialty is women's psych- and running a whole slew of blood tests) I was telling her about my weird aversion to hot weather, the sun, and sometime deepening depression when it gets hella hot like it is now. She was able to confirm the aformenttioned ideas about SAD, but other than getting a pool, there isn't much to do.

Why can't I have any EASY diseases? Or at least, access to a pool?

Needless to say, I've been moping around like it's the Day After Prom for a solid week and a half now. The heat wave really hit about then, and that's when I saw a significant dive in my mood again. Then there's the fact that Cherie decided she needed more of a housekeeper than an assistant ( it's true, actually) and now I'm out of work yet AGAIN. We remain friends, and I'm not angry at her about it. She helped as much as she could, and it did tide me over. I'm just really depressed that I can't keep a job right now, because I NEED to. It would be great if I could just sit around and eat ice-cream and sit in the air conditioning, but I have to make a living.

And so much for marrying a millionaire: just got word from Famous Writer that yes, My Beloved News Journalist is, in fact, in the closet. First Keith and now THIS? Makes me wanna give up the ghost on men altogether and get about 10 more cats. Never mind that I don't even KNOW the man ( a minor glitch, to be sure, right?). It's just emblematic ( now there's a good word you don't see much of anymore) of my Life Situation right now in That Area as well as the Poverty issue. One or the other, that's what I say. Poor, and getting laid, or having an income and not; not things I would like to have to be divisive about, certainly. But if it's going to have to BE like this in my life, couldn't I just be dealing with ONE huge emotionally strangling problem at a time, and not BOTH? I mean, come ON.

In the good news, Cherie did pass along that she thought I was a fine employee, and there was nothing wrong with me. Even more heartening, Dee called me this week and wanted to know if I'd help her do some personal filing and bookeeping. I had a conversation with her about my work habits, and she said she also thought I was a fine employee, a very hard worker, and a meticulous assistant, "otherwise, I wouldn't have asked you to do this for me. I trust you. " And since Cherie is a decent person, and while Dee is a little delusional about stuff, she's a decent person too, so I know it isn't really like they're crazy or terrible bosses. That's reassuring, because Cherie is a good contact to have in this business, and so is Dee. Between them both, they know just about where all the bodies are buried ( figuratively) in this town....

On the flip side, again, though, I have to shake my fist to the heavens and ask- in light of these revalations- "WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!?!?!?" Is my life so askew that I am doomed to be living on spaghetti and salad untill I get it right? What am I supposed to be getting right? Is it karma? If so, do none of my good deeds in this life count for ANYTHING other than sopping up the overflow from what must have been a true bloodbath of a former life? I mean really, now, what the FUCK is up with the Universe that I cannot get a job in this town and keep it longer than a month or two?

Seriously, I want to know. If it's supposed to be getting me ready for some great reward ( whoa- 80's flashback- Depeche Mode) later, then I suggest we hurry up the timeline on this little drama. As Dennis Miller used to say ( another 80's flashback- what was in that salad dressing? Sheez!): "I gotta life to live, cha cha!"

Four in the morning. Am I in bed asleep? Of course not, or else I wouldn't be writing here. Why am I not asleep? Because it's hot. It's been hot for days, but now it's humid. Why? Fuck if I know. I moved 2000 miles to get away from summers like this and damned if we're in the middle of an 80% humidity heatwave.

Humidity makes me want to sleep and sleep and sleep. I always say I have a backward hibernation system, or some twisted form of SAD. I love winter, I love rain, I love all the cold weather. This kind of weather always makes me want to not leave the house, eat carbs and sleep like a bear. It always makes me grumpy and down. The September comes and cool winds blow in and I'm a normal person again. Maybe I should move to Seattle.

I need a pool. Or access to a pool. Could I get a prescription for that ? ( Note to self: ask shrink.) And a boyfriend ( who will bring me sandwiches and give me a GOOD use of sweat versus just sitting around and sweating, and sleep with me on cool sheets.). Pretty sure I can't get the latter there on prescription. Wonder how to acquire? ( Note to self: do NOT call up old boyfriends out of desperation. Besides, when did they ever bring you sandwiches?) .

Save me. Anybody.

.....And back to the regualry scheduled program of sanity ( *snort*), or at least a report on what's up in MY life:

Been working for Cherie for a week now, things are going nicely. I do my work, I get paid, I go home. Suspiciously normal. BUT ( and I know this will come as a let-down to some of you), I had to sign a Non-Disclosure/Non-Compete Clause with her this week, which means a.) I can't try to steal her clients ( no worries there) and b.) I can't talk publicly about any of her clients ( which are alot of people in the biz). So I suppose that means the end of my celebrity gossipping on this blog, although I did get the go-ahead from her to say things like "Very Famous Singer" or "Well-Known Actor". I probably won't though. That's just boring, and hey, I'd like to keep my job. Alas. *SIGH*.....I'll survive.

In other news, no word from the Autry. WHY? I have no f-ing clue. I'm going to call them on Monday, and see what their problem is. Seriously. I worked my ass off in my undergrad to get a job like that and I move here and it's like they won't touch me with a ten-foot pole. And may I remind you, THEY called ME! Did I present so poorly in person and didn't know it? Or are they caught up in some sort of bureaucratic nonsense? I WANT TO KNOW!!!

And, I'd like to pay off my credit cards this summer.....

Still, the excitement never ends: you'll never guess who called me this Wed. Dee! She was all in a tither about Jeannie and where had her ebaying gone? I was flabbergasted, because when I was getting the nasty emails from Vee in lieu of Dee, so was Jeannie, only Vee was threatening Jeannie with legal action. No legal action was neccessary, but well, you know.... anyway, Jeannie wrote back that she was taking her seller's name off the lot, and turning it over to them, and essentially, they still owed her money for posting, etc., etc., and they could effectively kiss her ass. It was then Dee's turn to be flabbergasted. She'd had NO IDEA ( of course. Of course. How she allowed this girl so much power in her life, I'll never get it, but it's not for me to judge), and when she expressed that, I said, "Dee, I don't work for you anymore, so I'll say this without impunity: that girl is RUINING your business. You should consider letting her go."

Dee responded, "I DID, Jessica, I did. And it was the messiest thing. You can't even imagine. I'm uncovering crap she'e been doing for weeks. I'm a mess, emotionally. I can't even think straight. I'm just in shock. I thought I knew her, she's been working for me for 6 months, she used to come to my house crying over her boyfriend and now THIS." Turns out that in addition to all the nonsense Vee pulled with Jeannie and me, she was throwing attitude around Dee's salon like it was going out of style. Like showing up a half an hour late for work. Like walking out in the middle of a work day saying, "I just gotta get out of here." Like throwing a fit when Dee suggested they hire a second colorist assistant to help Vee out. Finally, after all the stuff with me came to light, Dee had had enough, and the next time Vee was scheduled to work, she wrote her a check and said, " you need to get your things. I'm letting you go."

Only Vee wouldn't have any of it. She put on her apron, crossed her arms and said, "You can't fire me. I'm not leaving!!!" Dee said, "Vee, I mean it now, come on. This is not working out. You aren't happy, and your attitude has become intolerable. You're fired!" Vee leaned into Dee and said, " You're FAT. You're UGLY. And your kids HATE you!!!!!". And that's when Dee snapped, pushed her out of the way, and said to the salon owner's sister, "Rose, call 911." Vee went into a rage, then, ranting and raving, and generally acting insane, so Dee took her by the back of her hair and her apron and PUSHED her out the front door. Vee kicked and hit her so hard that Dee ended up with bruises all over her body. But that's not ALL!

Vee still wouldn't leave! ( My silent question: who doesn't leave when they get fired? How crazy is that??) And pretty soon, the police, the fire department, and the paramedics were on the scene for a FOUR HOUR extravaganza of She Said/She Did. The result: since Dee had pushed her first, she had to go to jail. And she did. For 4 more hours. It's crazy, but that's the law in L.A.: it doesn't matter how much you're being harassed. If you lose it and get physical first, then you're to blame.
What's more, Dee said, when she managed to get herself together enough to go to the bank later in the week, she discovered that her checking account had been completely cleaned out. Empty. $5100 missing. Turns out Vee absconded with it, although we have yet to discover how.

Well. WELL. And my thoughts on this insanity?

It wasn't ME. I didn't lose that job because it was ME. Even if it was part me, it was mostly THEM, and likely Vee. Dee says she doesn't know WHO to trust anymore, and is afraid of hiring anyone. I can see why...
...but I'll have you know that she offered Jeannie some $$ to still sell her stuff on ebay, which Jeannie promptly did. And she asked if I would come to her house and do some bookkeeping and filing for her. I agreed. Do I feel bad for Dee? Of course. No one should have to go through that with a lunatic of that porportions. But I'll tell ya, I feel uber-extra-justified now. How funny things turn out. Sometimes, it takes you a bit to discover where your true loyalties should lie, doesn't it? Both Jeannie and I could have just laughed, turned her down flat, and gone on with our lives. We didn't, because we both like Dee and know that inside, she's a good person, and you just don't walk over someone like that, if they're willing to be contrite and offer amends. I wouldn't, anyway.
I'm not stupid. I'd NEVER go back to work for her all the time....she's still a bit off, and frankly, I'm glad to be rid of the drama. But she's a good lady, and good hearted, and even if she did fire me unjustly, I think she's essentially fair minded when all the facts become clear ( she's a Leo- fair-minded and generous, despite their temper and egocentricsism). It's an opportunity for me to have a positive bridge rebuilt, for Dee does have her connections, and is an excellent hairdresser I didn't want to lose ( girls, I know you understand how important that is)! And it's a little money on the side whenever she needs the help.

Speaking of Leos, by the way, I got a note from Leo via email responding ( a MONTH later??) to my decision to stop the 'round-and-'round between us. I wrote a month ago or so in this blog that I was tired of arguing with someone who wasn't there, and who would then pop up out of nowhere when I had gotten sick of his absence ( either as a matter of course with his work or a tactic to avoid and dismiss) and written him off emotionally. I just decided to let it go. Sometimes the best way to "win" an argument is to not fight at all- there wasn't going to be a winner anyway. It was just going to cycle around, untill I lost my head.
At first I was pretty rude about it. Then I realized that THAT only kept me connected through anger versus the option of letting go peacefully. So I wrote this ( and I post it here with his permission, given to me long before, saying that "if any of these emails would ever help anyone to have read them on your blog, I don't mind your posting them, as long as they're anonymous."):

Dear Leo,

Please disregard my last email. I was attempting to set a boundary with you in a very poor way and I apologize for any harshness or cruel overtone.

That said, I DO think I am going to bow out here. As I've tried to express to you on numerous occasions, the after math of your visit has left me pretty upset. I know things seemed fine when you left, and even a short while after that. However, in retrospect and with some perspective, feelings often tend to gain clarity and the emotional climate and conditions then change.

Clearly, when you came to town, I was hoping for more of a relationship than you ended up being prepared to offer. I take responsibility for my part in that: I should have never had such high expectations or the set of assumptions I had developed, of a man who had just been left by his finacee. That is my issue and I do apologize. However, not sleeping with woman is not the only preventative in leading her to believe there could be something more. Other actions, sentiments expressed, and words exchanged count as well.

It is because of this scenario much hurt persists between us.

Unfortunately, though, our communications in attempting to resolve all this is not working for whatever reasons; I have my suspicions why and I'm sure you have your own. The bottom line is, healing is not taking place as it should. That makes me sad and frustrated, and at a dead end as to how to proceed further.

So, what I feel is best for us, as friends, is to not be in each others' lives right now. Perhaps some time and distance will assist in whatever way, ( as yet unknown), is neccessary.

I'm sure the Universe will throw you and me back into each others' paths again when the time is right for that ( it always seems to). Perhaps then our friendship will be renewed. Know that I look forward to catching you on the flipside of this space in our lives and that I still think of you fondly and care for you deeply. Take excellent care of your special Tigger self and rest assured that I will take good care of my special Diamond ( in the Rough of LA) self, too. (And you can always check my blog to see that I am...).
Don't forget to sing a few bars of "Jackson" just for me.

I wish you nothing but the best and hope many blessings come your way.
With affection and respect,
Jessica


To which he responded:

I absolutely feel the same, Jessica. Do take good care of yourself and be sure to let your light shine unto the world. I think about you often, and when I sing Jackson. Thank you for being in my life. We will reconnect when the time is right...whenever that will be.

-Leo

To clarify, he exceprted only the last paragraph of the email to comment on, so I am assuming that is all he wished to address. That's fine. Doing anything else would have kept things stuck, anyway. And it's enough; I hadn't expected a response at all. Getting a kind one is a perk, something that helps me soften toward forgiveness ( which, even if I never choose to trust him again, is essential for me to let go and be at peace). Beyond that, I assume nothing further about his motives. Will I see him again? Don't know. Is this what he wanted as his endgame anyway, and stayed slithery so I would go away on my own, versus his having to say 'get out' ? Don't know. Is he now shaking his head, glad to be rid of that "crazy" girl he so mistakenly visited? Don't know. Know this, though: doesn't matter. I'll be moving forward from here, and I'll just take the good from it, hope this truly is a kindness, and take this as a peaceful handshake. Besides, harboring any more toxic crappy feelings would just keep me in the game, or give me cancer later, defeating the purpose entirely, you know? Yeah.

Oh, and the reference to "Jackson"? That turned out to be quite prophetic. He'd called me one night from Florida, on his way back home from a gig ( he plays guitar when he's not Super CEO Man). We were chatting about the Johnny Cash movie, etc. etc., how we were both big fans, etc. etc. He said, "I've been looking for a girl to sing 'Jackson' with. No one will do it, though!" I was agog. I replied, "Get out of town! I've been DYING to sing that song! I'd sing it with you!" And we did. Perfectly. It was some weird kismet thing, I thought at the time, and now I know why:

We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout
We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out
I'm goin' to Jackson
And that's a fact
I'm goin' to Jackson
Ain't never comin' back...
(- Johnny Cash and June Carter, 1960)


It sorta sums up the whole deal, doesn't it? Fast and hot and then lots of arguing, and then....well, poof. "Goodbye, that's all she wrote," as June sang.

Sometimes I think life isn't such a mystery if you're paying attention. But only sometimes. The future is always an adventure waiting to be taken, I think. I suppose we can only look toward that with a measure of hope for the best and preparation for the worst. And as Lou Reed once said, "a busload of faith to get by." For sure, for sure.

....AND FURTHERMORE.... ( I swear this is my last comment on this topic, I promise!)....I was watching E! News Weekend about Said Betrothal's details and it's like the whole world has got it all back-assward. They were going on and on and ON about all the hullaballo Down Under, fine, fine, when at the end they tack this deal about a prenup Nicole had drawn up. Apparently, she's worth like $150 mil or something ( certainly believable, I would say) and should she and Keith split, he'll get $600,000 a year for every year they'd been married. Okay. Sounds reasonable, right? Sure. But then Ryan "Meterosexual" Seacreast adds that to GET the $600,000, "Urban, a former drug addict, will have had to been clean the whole time."

And THAT was when I threw my shoe at the T.V. ( it was actually a slipper, so it didn't break anything).

FIRST of all, doesn't ANYONE do their fucking research? Apparently not. Because they clearly have no clue who he is, or anything about him, re: his own money! Hello, his last three albums went multi-platinum. He's got a Grammy, an American Music Award and countless others. I know he still dresses like he's been shopping in the thrift store, but the only people in Nashville who make more money than he does are Kenny Chensey and The Tim McGraw/Faith Hill Corp. I'm certain Nicole has far more bank, but it's not like if they ever split he'd have to go work at fucking Starbucks, okay? How stupid ARE the people at E! ? (Don't answer that.).

SECONDLY, the man has been sober for 7 YEARS now. I know,- from first hand experience, I might add- that you can never say you're "over" it. And I haven't been holding his hand for all that time, so I cannot comment directly on how the issue has or has not been gripping him. But for all intents and purposes, he's pretty open about all that. I've never heard him try and pretend he thinks he's "cured" when it comes up, and in fact credits his faith in a Higher Power for keeping him sober today. That's a good sign, about as good as you can get, as far as a Certain Number of Steps are concerned. He seems like a fairly stand-up guy in this area, or at least he's making the effort, and that's pretty damned good. Again, I happen to know this on a personal level!
But of course the implication was that this Keith Urban guy has this sordid, terrible history and ooooh! He's gotta stay clean if he's gonna keep Nicole! Can't you see the tabloids now? "Keith Slips and Nicole Is Crying!!" Arghhh! What about her crazy-assed, nutjob ex-husband marrying a woman half his age after knocking her up and belonging to a religion that asserts we're somehow connected to space aliens???? I assure you, Keith's gonna be the LEAST of this woman's problems, okay???

Sheesh. People are so stupid. And as promised, I have said what I have intended to say on the matter further. That is all.

And then this impending event has me nine kinds of twitterpated. Oh, I know, I said I'm happy for them. Yes, at the time I meant it. That was when it was all still speculative ( I know, I know: ring. And I know I know: confirmation of an engagement. Still time to back the fuck out, though. ) Now that it's real, I just want to throw up. And I'll bet you think you know why. But you'd be wrong, wrong, wrong.

I'll bet you, Dear Reader, are sitting there thinking, "ah, she's just jealous. Ruined her fantasy life, which was never going to happen anyway." Yeah, there's that, but frankly, I'm not 17, and I am not delusional. I have a life of my own, cha cha. My fantasy life isn't the only thing I've got going!

Or, you're thinking, "well, it could have been ANY GIRL, and she'd be all bitter." Yeah, along with all the rest of his female fans, any girl betrothed to our Guy would have been suspect, and possibly a good candidate for throwing under a bus. But being a rational person ( shut up!) , I would have gotten over it. Again, life of my own, yadda yadda, not delusional, yadda yadda, and really like his music anyway.

No, what's got me all pissed off is that it's THIS girl. This girl in particular, who, while a decent competent actress, a true star in every sense of the word and by all reports, a very nice, down-to-earth gal, just fits that stereotype profile of The Impossibly Beautiful and Famous In Her Own Right, But Fairly Submissive Woman. That Musicians Always Marry. It's distressing. It's disheartening. It's disappointing.

Why?

Because every musician I have ever known ends up playing out this cultural script, whether they ever get famous or not: "I'm the creative stud in this relationship, and while you've Got Your Own Thing Going, I need someone who isn't going to be too demanding on my time, be too needy or clingy, and who will Be There when I need to come home to kids and a house. Oh, and hopefully, Hot, Hot, Hot, baby." I SWEAR it. Seen it, watched it, fled from it myself. It's a dynamic that I find offensive to my little feminist self, and ridiculously adolescent, to say the least. And it's truly disappointing to see someone you respect so much walk into the role with such enthusiasm.

Clearly,I admit, I'm making a few assumptions here. Firstly about Nicole, who might very well be holding Keith's balls in her hot little fist in this partnership, for all I know. Still, I doubt it. She was married to TOM CRUISE for 10 years, remember? Do you really think that control freak would have handed over anything to her in terms of personal power in a realtionship? After all, her career practically disappeared when she was married to him, sadly. And didn't she think everything was fine and dandy untill the day she got served papers? WHAT KIND OF WOMAN a.) gets involved with THAT, and b.) doesn't see the lawyers circling overhead??? A woman who, I assert, doesn't mind being fairly submissive and a little overly-maternal in her intimate relationships, and a woman who isn't neccessarily in touch with anything other than her fantasy projection of what's going on in them. Someone who may be instinctive and bright, but not really hitting all the balls outta the park in Setting Boundaries and Making Her Needs Equal departments. That's all I'm saying. It doesn't make her a good person or a bad person. It just makes her an Excellent Candidate for the Aforementioned Dynamic.

Secondly, I'm assuming a few things about him, too: that he doesn't want more than that, contrary to everything he's ever said or sung. He may very well want that Girl Who Is 100% His Peer and Keeps Things In Balance. But again I argue: look who he picked!!! The One Woman Every Guy Wants To Have ( Hot, Hot, Hot, baby!!). What a coup, huh? Maybe he sees all that 100% Partner in her- the True Love- I suspect he has at least convinced himself that he has. I just don't know if I buy it totally. Again, not a good or a bad person, it just reeks of that Stereotype I'm asserting as the thesis here.

Additionally, and unfortunately, I am also assuming so more ugly things about the both of them:

For Keith, I ponder if part of this choice comes from his being constantly guilty in his head about being an addict and having a womanizing past. A theory: he thinks by choosing The Most Beautiful Girl in The World Who's Going To Give Him Everything and Yet Is Moral and A Tad Icy By Imperative ( she's a devout Catholic, say no more; not to mention I've yet to see the woman radiate anything other than Unattainable and Untouchable in any love scene EVER) he'll be good to go, safe, and in control. Again, not a good person or a bad person; everyone has issues. Still, I'd be lying if I didn't find it a bit fucked-up and upsetting.

For Miss K, let's face it: she might be nice. And talented, and blah dee blah blah blah. She certainly handled that public divorce with dignity and class and for that alone she deserves a medal! I won't even say she's undeserving of happiness, because isn't everyone? Of course. It's just that she appears to be the kind of person who trades on her looks a great deal. I don't know if she's fully conscious of it; in this business, things like that get a little shady, so I doubt if she wants to even deal with that idea (who would?). But those looks get her ALOT of attention, not to mention that $5mil contract with Chanel. It must be very tempting to use those looks to get a man's attention and subsequent adoration in a manipulative way, a childish, giggling girlish way. To use them to get EXACTLY what you want, in a passive-aggressive way, which to me, very much fits her persona. I find that kind of thing annoying at best, but men seem to find it irresisitable ( I've seen versions of this in my personal experience). Why, I have no clue. I have no problems with women using their feminine wiles, mind you. If you've got it, well, shake it, sister! What I have a problem with is certain women using those in a competative, I'm-The-Prettiest-Girl-In-The-Room,-Bitch, kind of way. I'm equally appalled at men so stupid to fall for that, even if she is, indeed, the Prettiest Girl. Ugh. If he's THAT man, well, even worse. That's shallow. On both of their parts.

I could be wrong about it all. What do I know? I'm a keen observer of human behavior and an ardent watcher of celebrities ( my guilty sin in this life). And don't misunderstand: I'm not doubting the love or the feelings involved in this particular relationship or any of the ones I've actually witnessed. They are usually quite sincere and fairly ardent, at least at the outset. Nope; they look happy. I'm sure they are happy. Maybe they'll be luckier than most people and get to stay that way, despite any harbingers of doom.

And I admit it: some of this is just plain old Sour Grapes ( happy I admit to at least a tad of that?). In the end, I admire Keith and really thought him to be a man of much meaning, on so many levels. Simoultanously, I have been bothered by Nicole's ridiculous double-play of "Look at me! Look at me!"/"I'm so demure and unaffected" for awhile, on so many levels. So with this wedding happening, I think, OF ALL THE PEOPLE, you two had to end up together??? . Of course! So I get to watch the Guy I Thought Was Admirable and Hot marry The Actress I Cannot Cope With. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh!

Not fair? In my estimation, you bet it's not! That still doesn't mean anybody needs to thrown under a bus ( that would be super bad karma, anyway). I suppose I just need to keep holding out for my own Cowboy to show up, anyway.

But I think I'll avoid the tabloids for any photo spreads of the Happy Couple for awhile, just for my stomach's sake.

Another reason I hate to watch the news ( re-discovered by me, this evening, while trying to watch Anderson Cooper's show on CNN- he was interviewing Angelina Jolie about World Refugee Day, which I have some minor interest in- which seemed like a safer bet than most news shows): punditry. I mean, how LOOOOOOONG can these people discuss the same issue over and over and over and over and over with different alleged "experts" and politicians and whom-ever-the-stupid-fuck they can get to sit still long enough to slap a mic on? I care just as much about when the hell we're getting out of Iraq as they do; trust me, I do. I'm opinionated about damned near anything ( except sports , raking leaves , and yet another possible R.E.M album except to say, unilaterally: I don't care. Period.). Sometimes my friends even joke with me and say, "No, Jessica! Tell us how you REALLY feel!" because I'm so vocal. But even I have to pause aand ask: why is there this compulsive need to hash and re-hash something untill it's, well, hash? Democrats are saying we need to have a "phased deployment". Republicans are saying we need to "finish what we came to do." Okay, sounds clear to me. Depending on whose side you're on, I think you know where you stand.

But NOOOOOOO, we've got to ask every schmo in Washington, including the guy who sells hot dogs outside the White House fence what they think, feel, intuit , suspect, or downright don't know about the situation. And we have to give every one of them airtime, even if it's clear that all they're doing is pushing their own agenda ( cough cough Carl Rove cough cough)/current book (cough Ann Coulter cough) / film ( cough Al Gore coughcougcough)l /bid for party support in the next election (Gore again, coughcoughchoughchough). Occasionally you get someone interesting on there like Al Franken or Rush Limbaugh to just say the most outrageous things possible, but let's face it: after awhile it's like listening to Charlie Brown's teacher: mwah mwah mwah, mwahmwah, mwah, mwah mwah. And that's not because they lose me somewhere in betweeen when they open their mouths and when they take a breath for air, either. I can follow along, jargon and all. It's just after awhile, it's all the same bullshit; it all sounds the same no matter WHO'S saying it. Or it just serves NO purpose whatsoever to actually illuminate the topic, like sports commentary, another thing I can't stand ( along WITH the sports, but who knows how much more tolerable it might be without those assholes? All that endless yammering in the backgrouund of a simple game saying crap like, "Well, Mike, it looks like he might be going to throw to Player X downfield. " "I do agree, Jim. You know if the Team wins this one, they'll be well-set to go to the Big Game." "True, but only if Joe Coach keeps them sharp...." AAAARGH! Makes me want to hurt somebody!)
Even the ever-sharp dressed and sharp-minded Anderson getting in there and throwing down with his emo-journalist self does not keep it going for me. And if I can't get a man that good-looking to make the news tolerable for me, then that's one sorry fuckin' state of affairs, I'd say.

10 minutes. That's all I could take today of yet another discussion going nowhere, talking about a deeply important issue that everyone cares about, as though they were dispassionately ordering lunch at Burger King, and with about that much veracity in any of their statements. At least when you order lunch, and things are a little more REAL. You actually get food. You know, substance? Not speculation? Ain't nothin' speculative about a Whopper, my friend. Nothing! It's there or it's not, just like those troops are there or they are not, and we have a plan to get them out with a solid timeline or NOT.

With my PoMo street cred to protect, I'm sure some folks ( like Leo, like some other scientists I know, like a few fundamentalists I've run into over the years) would have a piss-their-pants laughing fest at me right now, sitting around saying that something is there or it's not and being so ( gasp) hardcore John Locke about politics. But I never SAID that ideas just exist in a vacuum, although that's what most people against Postmodernism would argue. I say, first of all, you haven't done your research ( because while they're just kinda skatey on what you might call "The World", they ARE quick to call you on your cultural biases, in the interests of making sure everyone gets a voice). Secondly, while I never really argue for the teleological view on things ( ditched that Grand Narrative awhile back, thank you, Karl), I do think that in a Marxist sorta way, ideas DO affect how people respond to things, and therefore, they're important ( even if they seem a little indulgent and appear to exist in the Ivory Tower of Academe). If it's not applicable, it's interesting, sure. But what are you going to DO with it? And I've held THAT idea from the start. Remember I got my start in Religion, where we like to sit around and talk about ethics. Ethics are nothing if not applicable. They exist to be applied, n'est pas ( just had to get a little French there, nodding to those damned Gauls for starting this in the first place)? Okay?

So there.

Suffice it to say, I think I've had enough with CNN for now. Unless Anderson decides to change his tie ( swear he's been wearing the same tie for a week, but who can tell? They all look the same!) and then I'm sure I'll be all a-twitter about that. Love ya, babe. Not watching your show. Sorry.

Which is why I decided to watch "America's Next Top Model" reruns instead. So shoot me. I suppose it makes me a bad American. But I'll bet I'm one of the few "ANTM" watchers who can tell you what an IED is. At least I can say that. Can you?

More celebrity hullaballo, although technically, this is just me being gratutious (or self-interested. Or possibly mastubatory. Your pick.):

Anderson Cooper is on the West Coast all this week . That link with his name is in case you've been hiding under a rock and don't know who he is. Although I didn't til I saw his
book excerpted in "Vanity Fair", and it was so good I went out and bought it. What can I say? I don't watch the news! Why? Well, two reasons:

1.) I can't take all the graphic imagery. Reading the news is one thing, and I don't mind doing that. But I cannot deal with footage of carnage, et al, over and over and over again. One might argue that THAT in and of itself is a reason to watch, to understand all that loss and horror. I get that, I do. But do I need to see it over and over? On 9/11, I saw it when it happened, and then I turned the tv off for the next 24 hours. I KNEW all the stations would be doing would be running the same terrible footage ad nauseum, "nauseum" being the key word. I can't take that. Primarily because I'm very empathic and it makes me very upset and agitated, but also because I have this weird thing where I get way overstimulated with visual information after awhile, especially if it is emotionally loaded. My brain just shuts down, and everything sounds and looks like mush, or I throw up. (You do not want to know the list of just MOVIES I have thrown up at, even knowing they're not real. I mean it. Seriously).
Which brings me to ....

2.) If I'm paralyzed thusly, I can't do anything to help. What can you do to change the world if you can't get moving? If you're stuck in despair or cynicism, you can't make a difference, which is, to me, one of the functions of news in the first place. Right? Right.

It's not that I don't want to know what's going on- and I feel like I try to keep up as much as I can- I do. It's just that tv news, in a word, blows. Period. I'd rather read about it, which usually gives you a bigger scope of things anyway.

But back to my topic.....
The last two days he's been in L.A. ( shilling said book? Possibly). I adore him, because he's so brilliant and good-looking ( still, a shock for me, because a hot newscaster? Isn't that an oxymoron? Please recall that "hot" for me includes the factors of "interesting" and "edgy" and "slightly off-kilter, possibly mentally". Not things you usually see in a talking head. It was the book,- which is all those things- I tell you! The BOOK!) . For a brief moment, I considered stalking the CNN building, but quickly dissuaded myself from the idea. Why? Because I don't know where the hell it is, for one, and although that wouldn't be hard to figure out, I don't wanna waste gas at $3.35 a gallon ( yes, I know I keep mentioning that. It really pisses me off. REALLY really pisses me off). Next, it was HOT today. And while the idea of possibly catching him sweating while he swans around in a Prada suit was compelling, it wasn't enough to get me off the couch and out in the heat. Besides, who dates their stalkers? I mean really? Come on. Those kinds of things never work out as idealistically ( or delusionally) as they may begin ( especially if they begin with security hauling you to the pokey).

And then there's this issue , which is really more of a question floating around out there, but in my experience, if it's even a question, then, well, pack your bags, sister. You need to move on to a different ballplayer, one on your own team perhaps. I do have a request in to a friend in the possible know, though. I won't divulge her identity with even an alias ( I'll explain why in a minute), but she happens to be in a torrid email affair with A Very Well-Known New York Writer ( reason #1), because she's helping him with a book he's writing on Anthony Pellicano ( oh, come on, don't make me link this too! Don't you people even READ the news? Even a little?), the thug-for-hire-of-choice for The Special People in Hollywood who's currently behind bars. She has the authority to do so because she was assaulted by the man ( along with another friend of mine) years ago when Someone Important wanted her silenced (reason #2). Its a long terrible, sad story, and I don't have her permission to discuss it here, so I shan't.
Anyhowwwwwww, I said to her, "hey, if you're so in with Writer, see if he knows if...." and posed my question. She was pretty confident that he would know for certain. I'm DYING to find out, but she's hedging, saying that "if I ask anything of him, I get to go first! I want to meet Bill Clinton! " That might take forever, but he ( Writer) is supposed to be out here shortly to work on the book, so maybe I can ask him myself. That is, if I can pry them off each other long enough to get them to go to lunch. I wonder if it would be terrifically gauche to ask a lauded New York journalist- who writes for a magazine I read regularly and whose work I respect tremendously- such a question.

And if I do just carpe diem it and ask anyway, should I do so over salad, or wait til the entree? Such dillemmas I've never known before! That's what you get when you rub shoulders with the elite, I suppose (*snort* as if!). As I said to Lynnie the other day when I was relating this set of circumstances to her, " ...and yet here I sit with my front door wide open, hoping to catch a breeze because my air conditioner has blown a fuse. One minute you're in the mix, the next minute, you're on your porch, sweating in your underwear ( don't worry, I have a walled-in brick fence.). " Her response, "welcome to LA!"

No doubt.

Recent random celeb sightings:

1.) I think Chad Smith from the Red Hot Chili Peppers lives in my neighborhood. Why he would live in Burbank, I have no clue, but I keep seeing a guy who looks an awful lot like him around. And in LA, the general rule is: if you look at someone and say, "hmm, that guy looks like___", then it probably IS ____.
I first saw him on the bike path near my house. Then yesterday I saw him at Albertson's ( grocery store). It's not like I'm a big RHCP fan anymore, or particularly want to meet him, I just am perpetually perplexed as to WHAT THE F he'd be doing this far into the Valley. He's a rock star, right? The general LA rule about rock stars is that they live in Hollywood Hills. (That means nothing to you without a map, of course. One of these days, I'm going to have to doodle one out. For now, you have to suffice with my lame descriptions).
The Hollywood Hills, kids, are the hills that seperate the Valley from the Rest of LA, waaaaaaay up these windy-roads ( including the ever-famous Mullholland Drive, a death trap if there ever was one) and on which the Hollywood sign sits facing south ( hence the name). Big giant mansions up there, where it's hard to get arrested for serious partying. The farthest anyone comes into the Valley from there is Ventura Boulevard, where all the trendy trendies hang. SOMETIMES you might find them as far as Sherman Oaks or Studio City, but only if they're shopping. In Burbank, you see actors off and on, because of the Bermuda Triangle of Studios ( WB, NBC, ABC/Disney, and Dreamworks) that exists here. It's extraordinarily rare to see musicians. There's a few hidey-hole music studios around, for sure, but unless they're getting arrested for drugs on the way home from a session ( hey,Scott Weiland! Give up the needle and spoon already! We're tired of looking at your scrawny-junked-out ass speeding down our street!), the chances of catching them is next to zero.
So is it Chad Smith shopping for lettuce in my grocery store, or some doppelganger? The world may never know. Unless I ask him. But that would require Effort, and frankly, I'm saving it up for someone I really care to meet.

2.) Sydney Pollack, whom I thought was dead ( I have a real problem keeping track of who's still alive in this business sometimes. Sad, but true. My friend B and I invented this terrible, sick game called "Dead? Not Dead?" where we throw out a celebrity's name and try and guess. Yeah, I know. I'm going to hell.), He cut me off in traffic. In Sherman Oaks ( see above). Nice car, but he needs to pay more attention to where he's going. If he's NOT dead, then how old IS he? Should he even be driving????

3.) Adam Corolla, in my Sav-On. I didn't actually spot him, Dani did. I was too busy yelling at the self-checkout machine ( stupid fucking thing couldn't scan a simple candy bar! I swear, those things are worse than standing in line). Apparently, he was grousing on his cell phone in that nasally voice he has, which is what gave him away. Dani said, "is that Adam Corolla?" Me: "You goddamn piece of shit! Gimme my candy bar! Um, what? " ( swivelling head around, seeing dark-haired irritated-looking man). Her: "THAT guy in the baseball cap with the annoying voice." Me: "Probably. Dr. Drew lives in Pasadena ( not far from Burbank, and near the mental hospital Las Encinas, where he works). He might be here to tape a show or something. ( turning back to check-out machine). I just GAVE you a dollar!!!"
Clearly, that encounter didn't change my life either. But I did get my candy bar.

Ah, the glamour. Some days, it's just too much to take in.

And now..... silence.

I had a job interview today at the Autry Museum of Western History . I had sent them a resume for an Educator's position and never heard back, so I woefully gave up on any hope. Then their Director of Visitors Services called me and said HER boss forwarded my resume for a position with their department. I thought when she called that I wouldn't really want to take the job- even though it IS in the museum world, which I do miss terribly and would great on my resume- because it sounded so bleh. And frankly, I don't know squat about Western history ( as in The West of America, not the Western World, thank you!)- at least not enough to be excited about it, and frankly, thought the museum would be pretty crappy.

I was tremendously wrong. First of all, it's one of the nicest museums of its kind that I've seen- very well curated with excellent education and a beautiful facility. They have a whole seperate building devoted to the Southwest Native Americans, and typically, the top floor in the main building is devoted to current Native American artisits, which is very very hip of them, I must say. Downstairs is their permanent collection, which is very comprehensive- including a whole wing about the "Western" concept in popular culture- movies, radio programs, etc. I was really impressed with the scope of it all. And apparently, they just got a giant grant to do more work, so it's going to grow, and Visitors Services isn't just like it is at some other museums cough cough The Getty cough cough where they are just glorifed ushers/umbrella holders. They've been ranked in the 90th percentile in a national survey concerning such services, and they take it seriously. There's room to move up, so I could end up in education ( which is what I really want- althought it would *exaggerated sigh* mean learning something new. Yeah, because I just hate that.) eventually. And it's PART TIME, and it PAYS! By the time I left there, I was like, (whiny voice), "I wanna work heeeeeeeeere!!"
I gave a good interview, and I think they really liked me, and I got the impression that they just needed to run it by HR and get the go ahead. God, I hope so.


In other job prospects, my new friend Cherie, a publicist, needs an assistant. Well, sorta. I emailed her early this week asking if she knew any publicists who needed assisstants, or if she could give some advice. I find PR fascinating. Taxing ( because how long can you really schmooze it up before your eyes glaze over?), but endlessly entertaining. I have a bunch of non-official experience in it ( in the museum world, the music industry and not-for-profits, no less) and have spent more than my fair share of hours checking press releases and gladhanding. I figured, jeez, Jessica, why not try for a job you can actually DO and that might actually benefit your career somehow? Anyway, turns out Cherie was willing to give me some paid time to organize her office, answer her phones, etc. Same pay as the museum, it turns out. I accepted her offer, but haven't heard back. I'm hoping that's because she's been out of her office all day, not because she's changed her mind.

When it rains it pours, right? What to do?

I thought it over, and I've come to an executive decision ( not that there's anyone else around here to run it past, but whatever) that I would take BOTH jobs. With Cherie, it's likely that I could work a flex-time deal out and at the museum, they kept emphasizing weekends , which is fine. Taking both opportunities would give me a chance to get my ass out of debt for the first time in three and half fucking years, and frankly, that would do a lot for my mental health. I know it's a little taxing to think of me, the Depressive working like that, but I USED to do it for stints at a time for similar reasons. I've just been avoiding getting a "full-time job" for awhile now, because, like most actors in Hollywood, the thinking is this:

A.) I moved here to audition as an actor
B.) If I got a full time job, I wouldn't have time to audition
Therefore,
C.) Why live in this hellpit if I can't audition? I could move home and get a full time job.

Unfortunately, this logic does not include Well-Known But Rarely Admitted Collary D, which is:

D.) I can't afford to buy headshots/pay for postage/go to acting class on part-time wages.

Or, the more Openly Discussed Collary E:

E.) It costs so much to live here sometimes I have to choose between driving and eating, and I still never get called in to audition.

It's a terrible situation to be in. I'm luckier than most because I have 1.) healthcare; 2.) a state check that covers my rent; 3.) extremely generous and tolerant friends who don't balk when I ask if I can borrow money. And still, I find a quandry in making it work. So this is my new plan- two part time jobs, one of which will be flexible enough if I need to audition, the other of which will keep me moving in a positive direction toward Other Goals. And with the combined income, I can afford new headshots. I can afford an acting class or two. I can afford to pay off my credit cards. I can be a fucking grown-up. Imagine it. It might cut into my moping time, but I'm actually excited for the first time in awhile about the prospects of my life. Imagine that.

But for now....silence. And I wait. Tap, tap, tap.

Mood: self-righteous and justified. Why? Well, well, well, folks, the Day Has Finally Come. Dee called me this afternoon and said, " I didn't know that I owed you money for actual work days. You know I don't read my own emails. I'm really sorry." It seems that Vee, her Little Minion, has been reading her email and answering it FOR her. Knowing that indeed, Dee does not, in fact, read her own mail ( she can't even open it), as I often read it TO her and then asked what she would like to say in response, I know that she is telling the truth. I didn't press for details, but apparently, Vee and her sister have been handling all of those duties and giving her misinformation about what I've been writing. However, she took my statement that "as things have seem to become inexplicably vindictive on your end, if I do not receive a check by 6/10, I will pursue this matter in small claims court" seriously and Dee got really, really upset at Vee. Hence the phone call, hence the forthcoming check, hence her offering to do my hair "whenever, Jessica, and you don't have to pay", and some serious embarassment on her part. I wonder if she regrets giving Vee so much say-so and kicking me to the curb QUITE so quickly.

So, ha HA. Ha HA!

Of course, Small Check will only cover Small Payments to Gas and Power, but as I just paid Phone, I am back online at home ( thank you Jesus!), and hopefully, I'll find a job before the end of the month. Plus, Griffin got some financial aid through the wonderful agency Actors and Others For Animals, and I took him to the vet for $20, and got him set up for receiving subQ fluids at home for roughly the same. He's been eating regularly now and while I know he doesn't feel good, he's a fair bit perkier altogether and somewhat more comfortable.

In the meantime, I am sick. Again. Running a fever two days ago and sleeping 14 hours a day. Why? Possible UTI, possible WhoKnowsWhat. I wonder sometimes if living in this place doesn't do a number on my immune system, because I'm sick all the time these days. I DO have Interstitial Cystitis , which is thought to be an immune system disease, and it's true that since I was diagnosed ( 10 years ago) I haven't been too tough since. I got THAT after a bout with Epstein-Barr, which I shook off, but I guess it settled in to my system in a whole other way, really. Good times. I only mention it because after a vitriolic-filled conversation with Jeannie today about how I'm Just Not Reliable , Therefore, I Suck As A Friend and Possible Employee, I got to thinking. Do I Really Suck, or is there More? I think there's More ( and a few areas where I Do Suck, and am Working On). I think it's always more complicated than it seems, especially in this particular situation.

I also think maybe I should move to London, that Anderson Cooper should marry me, and that whomever told Bruce Springsteen he could sing was wrong. So what do I know? Apparently not much because a.) I don't even have a passport, b.) it's pretty likely that THAT beautiful man with a beautiful mind isn't even playing on my team , as it were, and c.) Bruce is the one collecting the big checks, not me. Then again, I am at least collecting the small ones, so it's hard to say....these days, it could all go either way. It really could.

Babysitting Joannie for Jeannie, who has a new job this week ( go Jeannie!). Joannie, normally an even-tempered, well-behaved child by nature, has decided that in reaction to this new change, she's going to turn into Uber-Brat. Additionally, she's apparently going through some "Terrible Threes" phase, as apposed to Terrible Twos", which didn't happen. Everything- and I mean EVERYTHING is a struggle. "Joannie, put on your shoes. " "NO!" ( flings self on ground, writhing around). "Joannie, get up. Get up NOW." "NO!" ( starts crying like I've poked her with a hot stick). "Joannie, if you don't stop that, you're going to get spanked ( I'm not a spanker, but Jeannie and Irv swat occasionally, usually after giving her a count of three to stop whatever she's doing, so actual "spanking" is rare and very tame when it occurs. Of course it's the end of the world when it does, with wailing and gnashing of teeth.) I count to three. She gets up. Seconds later, the next altercation is over whether or not I will let her drink out of my water glass ( I won't, but offer to get her one of her own). She begins crying like I'm witholding the Hope Diamond or something equally as precious, and again, throws herself on floor. This goes on for a good twenty minutes while I try to ignore her tantrum. Finally I pick her up and put her in bed, telling her, "Joannie, if you're going to act like this, maybe we need a nap." This, of course, intensifies the screaming. I put on a video. Some peace is restored.

Only temporarily. When I ask her to please go to the potty, she refuses. I start counting to three. I make it to three this time with no compliance and have to concede to a swat. Screaming commences, and continues til she's practically choking. I urge her to calm down and pick her up, offering water. She goes limp, wailing and kicking. Finally I take her back to bed and that's where she is now, watching Sponge Bob and refusing to nap.

It's only been 2 hours.

I've never seen this out of her in her entire LIFE. Even as a baby she was a sweetie, and she *usually* likes hanging out with me. Normally, I love hanging out with her. Right now, I want to put my own eye out with a kiddie straw. I would never make it as a stay-at-home mom, I'll tell you that, so props to all of SAHMs who do it without committing murder.

23 minutes remaining...

Yes, still woefully unemployed, and my mood sinking lower by the minute. Why, why, WHY? I am not asking for the world, nor am I asking for a Perfect Situation. I just want a job, a simple job, that I can go to and not hate or hate myself for doing for about 5 hours a day.

On top of all this, Dee has decided to withhold my last paycheck. No, not kidding. It's $100- not a lot of cash for her, but for me, it means the difference between my power and/or gas being turned off. She says that she feels we're "even" since she, when she was closing her shop was giving away anything that wasn't nailed down, and I got a tv. Oh, and since Jeannie, my "fucked up friend" cost her "hundreds of dollars" in storage fees because her salon equipment didnt sell on ebay right away.

I have a few problems with her characterization of events ( can events be characterized? They're not people...hmm...). FIRST, Jeannie TOLD her that as soon as her items were sold the storage fees would be figured into the buyer's cost and she would recoup the money. Dee said, "I don't care, just get it out of here." NOW she's bitching because she has to pay in the interim? What do you think this is, lady? Groan.

Secondly, I was not informed that accepting any gifts from this wackjob would perclude my getting paid my regular hourly wage. Since I was only one of four employees getting the swag leftover from her old place, and I can readily assume that THEY were still paid their hourly wage, then why should I expect otherwise? I was not informed the gifts were to be in leiu of my paycheck when I WAS her employee; therefore, she still owes me . And don't think I won't take this bitch to small claims court, because if I win ( and I WILL), she will have to pay all my filing fees as well. She thinks she can just scare me a little and I'll go away, because for WHATEVER reason, she's feeling vindictive? No. NO DEAL. Wrong girl, lady!

Oh, but what I wouldn't give to have her out of my life and be past this and on to something better, something new.

12 minutes remaining. It's like some kid of weird Jungian signpost; like a soundtrack for my life, lately. Ugh.