I'm Starting to Feel Like a Person Again

which is, you know, a plus. For a bit there I was feeling a little picassoed. New word! New word! Instead of abstract... Picassoed! Well I think it is exciting.

I'm currently at the Coffeehouse in DOWNTOWN (any normalites will know why I put that in caps--"uptown" my ass) Normal, eating their vegan "coffeehouse hash." It's actually rather scrumptious. I love this place. It's so quaint, but in every good aspect. Not quaint like ignorant and negatively homespun... oh my. I think I just ate a rotten piece of watermelon. Well, phooey, Coffeehouse. (That's not in my hash, it's in my fruit cup.) Also, they're apparently *not* hiring, so my dreams of working at both the coolest place in Peoria and the coolest place in Normal have been violently dashed. On the upside, I'm serving at One World now, which has proven to be rather fulfilling, exhausting, and exciting. Hopefully it will also prove to be lucrative. I have a feeling there will definitely be days when I hate it, and I'm starting to fully understand how hard it is to NOT feel personally affronted when people either leave poor tips or stiff you COMPLETELY. For instance.

(Disclaimer: this is hardly a server horror story, it's benign. But it was my first head-on collision with bitter resentment and insult, so I'm sharing it.)

Three rather snooty girls came in, and they sat in my section. I was still in training, but they needed another server that day, so they just put me on as a server... cool, right? It was the small bar section (one worldians will understand) so it wasn't terribly stressful... and it was a Sunday night, so, I handled everything pretty damn well, I feel. It was slow. We'll see how I do this weekend when it's, you know, not. ANYWAY.
These three girls came in, and yes, it was my first table by myself, but I didn't do anything wrong. Really--I was friendly but not overbearing, their food came out on time, I got their drinks out etc, etc, etc. Two out of three girls tipped me 2 dollars each on their 17 dollar meals (that's not really that bad, not great, but whatever, I didn't care about that) but the other girl completely STIFFED me on a 23 dollar bill. What? What I hate the most is when people draw a line in the tip section on the bill, as if to say "Don't even think about it." Which of course, makes me do just that. You find yourself racking your brain, trying to discover what you could possibly have messed up, when in fact, you know (as does everyone else who works in food service) that it 99% chance was not you, and was in fact, her being a snotty cheap ass yuppie with too many facial piercings. (I'm all for piercings, but it didn't fit her look. And picking on her makes me feel better about myself, of course.)

So, the above PLUS the fact that Friday night I had an actual "server nightmare" where I couldn't seem to handle anything, my section was GINORMOUS, and all I could do was get drinks and even that didn't really happen (it was sort of funny. I couldn't even put the orders in for food. I kept mixing up my little pads of paper in my book, and people got really really angry with me. So at one point, I made all of my tables stand together near the back wall and I made an announcement to all of them. I said "LISTEN UP. I'm. In. TRAINING. That means I'M GOING TO SUCK." And that helped a little bit.) so when I woke up I thought... huh.

I think I'm officially initiated into being a server now. Being stiffed + a server nightmare (oh yeah I almost forgot!) + a lady who I SWEAR was on valium or something telling me how awesome I was in really slow druggie sounding speech.

So I'm back home. This is actually the FIRST summer I've lived at home entirelyl since... um, 7th grade. And I can't lie, I'm weirded. Picassoed. Topsy tipsy turvy. Not tipsy tipsy. I'm sober. Topsy sober turvy... eh, forget it.

It's good to be home for many reasons, but I feel like an air balloon just dropped me off dead center memory lane--but this memory lane is rather dark and cobwebby--it just feels like forever since I've even thought about this or that memory, this or that belonging, picture, etc. It's jolting. And it's a little lonely... but I'm not afraid to be lonely. I actually think that's my problem.

Am I some sort of anti-social freak? Don't answer that. I don't know if I actually want to answer it myself. I think I idealize solitude, singleness, the go it alone mentality. I always identify with those neurotic career driven women in television shows who are too busy and too used to isolation to let anyone in romantically, and then of course by the end of such and such they've fallen for so and so and ta dah! But I usually like them when they're edgy and lonely and sort of in love with their own bitterness.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I sort of love being jaded and bitter in a really twisted way. That's probably at least partially true. I guess I'm just trying to figure out why I graduated college without ever having a sustained functional romantic relationship. I know, I know, it's "peoria." I get that.

But maybe it's... me.

These are the thoughts...

On a brighter note. I biked today. I biked to the coffeehouse. And I am here to tell you THAT I AM OUT OF SHAPE. I was huffing and puffing like hurrican katrina. (too soon? I'm terrible.) But really, I looked ridiculous. Also, I wore a skirt because apparently I thought that was an appropriate thing to wear while biking.

It's not.

So that's was amusing. I also hit a curb at one point and a part of the handlebars jabbed my abdominen. Good thing I never actually wanted to have children.

Well this is getting kind of long. People don't read these anyway... Benassi, how do you get so many readers? Besides being amazing, I mean.

I remember my Xanga days, I was queen of the comments... okay, getting pathetic and embarrassing myself. Gotta go.

On the Paradox of Sleep

When I don't get enough sleep, or too much sleep, I feel like crap. I become increasingly negative about myself, my life, and those around me. I feel heavy, self-conscious, and cranky. I feel unhealthy, and make unhealthy food choices and then feel guilty about them. I get zero accomplished, and I feel guilty about that, too. I usually get a headache, feel sluggish, and am much more likely to cry or have any form of breakdown or emotional outburst. I get sullen and quite. And I usually stay up much too late repeatedly, instead of going to sleep early and breaking the cycle.

I am currently experiencing the above.

Packing

would be a whole lot easier if I had less belongings. I know! Maybe I should have a... sale!

Oh wait.

My sale was very successful, but as far as "getting rid of everything"? Nope. I've still got a good chunk of things de every.

There was a guy who drove by the day of the sale (of the beer drinking buddy high fiving most likely frat boy --sorry--variety) who hollered, "Everything must go, eh? I'll give you... 100 bucks for the lot of it!" as his homeboys snickered in the seat next to him. Thinking back, I should have taken him up on that. It's not my problem he would have been stuck with a bunch of old (albeit awesome!) stuffed animals, paper back books written for a female audience, a bubble machine, some hippie clothes, Nearly A bras and women's size 6 shoes. Yep. I have small feet. And you know what that means. I have a small penis. Sigh.

I bet big truck guy could fit those shoes though, if you get my drift. I mean, come on, big truck? Overcompensate much? Not an original joke, but still, chuckle worthy. If you're confused, date a guy with a big SUV, you'll see...

Why am I talking about penises?

They are my least favorite thing, and I have no experience in that field, knock (oh brother) wood.

This entry has taken a bizarre turn.

Mom and Dad, don't read this one.

love love love

way up north i took my day
all in all was a pretty nice day
and i put the hood
right back where
you could taste heaven
perfectly
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and i, i don't
didn't think
we'd end up like
like this
--tori amos

***
all in all,it was a pretty nice day. great friends, great food, great family... it was a lonely day because of the sort of afterthought quality of my birthday... but those who cared, cared :) and also, I was trained as a server, and it went very well, if I do say so myself. So ta-dah!

I spent my first day as a 22 year old with people I cared about and then learned how to make more money.

And I ended it laying on Elizabeth's floor giggling like two nine year olds about everything and anything.

It's good to know that when and where it counts, I'll never grow up.

Night.

How To: My To Do List for Now and Next Week

• Clean House


• Pack


• Finish Sixth Season


• Finish 2nd and 3rd season of Buffy w/ Kyla


• Freeze that turkey. Steel resolve. Ready go.


• Get a job in Bloomington.


• Clean my festering kitchen.


• Actively avoid feeling sad about graduation by investing sadness in something much more trivial. Or at least, tell yourself it's trivial.


• Fail at the last part of the above. Succeed at the first half.


• Feel like a moron for not being able to control your feelings.


• Miss Asha and Ben and not be able to process it, so ignore those feelings for now.


• Attempt to rent the movie "Waiting."


• Fail at the above.


• Return wedding invitations. Muse about the idea of love and relationships and how deep down you really think you won't end up with someone for long term.


• Wonder what that says about you.


• Look for that car every time you walk down main street.


• Berate yourself for the above.


• Attempt to stop yourself.


• Fail.


• Miss your teachers, but not really? Feel guilty about ambiguity.


• Listen to Barenaked Ladies "Break Your Heart," "The Old Apartment" and "I Can I Will I Do" and a bunch of Ani Difranco and The Weepies. Also, that one song by Bjork.


• Write overly obvious cryptic blog posts.


• Remind yourself at least you have an interesting life, which is a plus. Secretly fear becoming a townie somewhere and *not* having an interesting life.


• Remember that you're scared shitless of dying young, and briefly get anxious when this thought crosses your path.
• Remind yourself that 99% of what you worry about never happens.
• Purposefully worry about dying young in order to employ the above logic.


• Wonder if you'll ever be a sensation, or a legend, or part of history. Feel pangs about the possibility "no." Feel shame for caring about fame.


• Regret never "going to the circus" with Ben.


• Feel the urge to punch his ex in the face.
• Wonder about theatre.
• Think about New Zealand.
• Think you're crazy.
• Be secretly proud of yourself for being so awesome and gutsy. Smirk to yourself, thinking how cool and nuts and quirky you are. Then laugh, tell yourself out loud in your empty house that you're a narcisstic bastard. Feel pleased regardless.
• Wish all of your friends weren't so spread far away.


• Wonder if you really are going to exist in a pattern, unrequited feelings throughout your life, never falling for what's right in front of you but always the unattainable.


• Try and comfort yourself and say, "no, that won't happen, you're just human, you'll find someone."


• Fail at the above.
• Make a lot more of this list and then have your internet crap out and lose all of it.
• Debate rewriting it, including feelings of missing friends, self-confidence, etc, etc.
• Eat some dark chocolate Kyla gave you.
• Decide the list is pretty much done anyway.
• Finish blog.

I graduated from Bradley University today.

I don't feel much about it. I feel pleased and content, because I've been waiting for graduation for a long time. I feel sort of sad, not about graduation, but about specific water under the proverbial certain bridge. I feel sort of pulled, but that's because I know I should make good use of my time today by packing and the like, even though I'd rather just lay (lie? frick) around all day. Even though I should really fill out job applications and clean my festering kitchen. And I need to sell that desk! That futon! And I feel tired, but that's simply because I just ate a huge meal at flat top grill and now I'm sleepy.

Asha says the graduating seniors before us said it didn't hit them until winter of the following year... so I guess I'll wait till then, and perhaps I'll have more of an appropriate reaction. I will miss a handful of people, yes. And I will miss the lifestyle of college, my friends, my work friends, and my apartment, and Elizabeth, and certain professors and buildings... but the overall feeling I have right now isn't sadness, or nostalgia, or anything in between.

Instead, I just find myself with a big, wide smile on my face, (albeit with sleepy eyes.)

My First Time... At Stand Up Comedy

I'm sure you are all curious.

I KILLED.

Which means, in "comic slang" that I did incredibly, incredibly well. By the time it was my turn to go, I wasn't even nervous--(the bananas, perhaps?)--I just got on the stage, dealt with the douchebag MC (story later in blog--sorry Trey, I know he's your friend and all, but yikes) and did my set. The audience, though small, really liked it. I felt confident--not nervous at all! How weird is that? And I even thought of a few quips on the spot that went over really well. For instance--my opening line was:

"How many closeted homosexuals do we have in the audience tonight?" And if anyone makes a noise, I simply say "Liar." But before it was time for my set, I had gone to the bathroom and observed some really interesting bathroom stall graffiti--"I Love You" and "My husband has a horse dick." So I started my set saying that I had a secret admirer, because the bathroom stall told me so. And then I mentioned the husband comment, and said: "... centaur?"

It was a small audience, but good--it was great to have both Kyla and Trey there--good job Trey! :) They served RC products there, not coke or pepsi. How 90s, right? I loved it.

So, the MC was a bit of a homophobe. I have a joke or two that elude to me being a lesbian (because I refuse to hide who I am, stand-up comedy is about sharing your life perspective and being yourself honestly, so I'm not going to pretend) and after I finished my set, he told me that I did a nice job and that it's important to find my voice, and that he thinks my voice would be better "with a cock in my mouth."

Yeah.... he also had LOTS of "faggot" jokes in his act, and he also rubbed the mic on his crotch before giving it to me for my set. I have my theories as to why he treated me as he did (involving feeling threatened by a confident funny attractive young lesbian woman) but regardless, I won't be performing there again--sorry Trey! I loved performing and I think you're great, but it's not worth it for me to deal with those kind of remarks. Nope :) Oh well, though. I can't really take ignorance personally--I don't really feel terribly offended, just sort of put-off. And, seriously, other than that blatant homophobia masked in comedy, I felt amazing about my performance, I feel in love with the whole act of stand-up comedy, and I can't wait to do it again. I better go refine my act and create some new material...

I should be competing in a stand-up contest in early June--I'll keep you posted. Because to be honest, since I'm taking some time off of theatre, I'm going to really pursue this. I better look up stand-up clubs in New Zealand! And Bloomington, for that matter.

The next performance I give, you're all invited!

Off to go eat some snacks and watch le Buffy. I really am walking on Cloud Nine--I feel so capable right now. The feeling of making people laugh drowns out ALL other emotions and cancels out the slander I encountered entirely.

A toast to Stand-Up and my new journey!