Sleepless in New York.

My mind is running heavy, slow, lagging like a computer with too many viruses. The people mill around me, city mentality. Running, running women in track suits and sculpted bodies. I wish they could run my body, run it far better than I do. I don't sleep, I don't sleep well and I crack at the fissures of the lines in my face. Worn weary, wrinkled, I pray for sleep. One, two, three o' clock roll around and I have nothing to show for it but frustration and balled fists. Digging my nails into my palm, railing and reeling against my urge to jump and kick and scream. At least anger is a form of release.

The world outside my window is too big to ignore and I am swallowed, engulfed in the pace of a New York minute.

Vignettes of the city

When I look out the window, I see Broadway. When I walk out my front door, I walk into Central Park. When I step onto the street, I feel alive and buzzy with possibility. I am a city woman. Or, well. I'd like to be. It's tough to be kind and to live in the city. I smile at people on the sidewalk and they look at me like I've asked them to marry me.

She had wide eyes and wild, frizzy hair. I have seen babies with more teeth. Childish, innocent, batty- she came at me expectantly. Gleefully she eyed my ice cream cone and held out her arms. She reached, I dodged and smiled at her. Sorry, lady. Not today. Part of me wishes I had just given her the ice cream and bought another one.

The rustle of books, the musty smell of paper reaches my nostrils and wraps me in a familiar warmth of contentment. 18 miles of literature, 18 miles of pure joy. It's no secret to me that most of my friends will never have anything new to say to me, their words immortal on the page. In my world of change and transition, their staunch sameness is kind to my psyche. This is my church, and language is my religion.

Security

All right, kiddos. I hate to break it to you, but my big whole plan about keeping you all updated about where I am and what I'm doing isn't going to come through. There's this little thing called a Confidentiality Agreement and that means that I'm going to keep stalkers away from the family. Which means I need to be sneaky and covert.

Aunt Linda, who is Melissa's best friend, is a TV writer (who worked on That 70's Show and just created Nurse Jackie) and she and I have been talking a lot about writing. She challenged me to come up with a way to update everyone and keep people informed without divulging too much information. So, I'm going to write about my summer like I'm writing a short story about a girl plucked from the Midwest and sent out into the big, bad world of rock 'n' roll. Names and details will all be changed, but I hope that you enjoy my interpretation of my life. I'll most likely get into it more on the road, but for now, I'm just chilling at Casa Melissa and life is great. Not a whole lot to update, to be honest, except that I love everyone and everyone is so incredibly nice to me. Also, they have a kick-ass pool with a water slide. And I'm hella tan.

More to come, for sure. I miss home, but I'm so happy to be here.

Nakedness

Tears escape from my unwilling eyes onto the great expanse of my bare, white legs. The weight of anguish and frustration in those salty droplets sting like bruises on my doughy thighs. For all my strength and determination to succeed, I am plagued by doubt and fear and very close to totally despairing. My intelligence rails against me for allowing something so silly, so superficial to burrow under my carefully crafted confidence.

Today, it didn't matter that I am a talented, successful, brilliant, motivated, charming, kind, or graceful woman. Today, the weight of my body was so heavy it was all I could do not to sink.

Things I have done today

A short update before I pass out.

• Met Melissa Etheridge
• Held both a Grammy and an Oscar statuette
• Seen Bailey again (finally)
• Took a long, glorious shower
• Met the people I'll be spending the summer with
• Got over any fear of said people
• Met Bailey's aunt and friends
• Experienced my first traffic jam on the 101
• Watched my girl sing on stage :)
• Casually hung out with celebrities

And now I'm in bed, exhausted after a long day. G'night.

An open letter to the Government

Dear Government,

I feel you have failed me. I feel like, as a citizen of the world, I am due more respect than you allow me. In a country where money-grubbing corporations hold the majority of power, the best interests of human beings are not being considered. The amount of injustice being perpetrated in the name of profit is unconscionable and, frankly, nauseating. As long as the powers that be purport lies about the opposition, true change can never occur. If we strip the Socialist spin from the health care bill, maybe people will realize that it's basic human goodness. We have libraries, post offices, and firemen- if we can provide free books, mail delivery, and fire-fighting services, why the fuck can't we provide free health care? Why would anyone CHOOSE to sit through the red-tape of insurance, bills, payments, etc. when we could live in a country where health care is provided for us. Both Canada and Britain have nation-wide health care and they haven't collapsed in upon themselves. I am CONFIDENT that this country would improve by leaps and bounds if we could simply wipe the blinding shield of ignorance from our eyes and see things plainly: things are not working the way they are. Our systems do not need to have money thrown at them or "reworked." No. These systems are failing. The travesty that is the Gulf oil spill situation is just one example of corporate irresponsibility. These situations are NOT acceptable and should not occur. This brings me to my next point: DAMMIT, PRESIDENT OBAMA.

I am sick and tired of moderate action. Simply sick of it. You are sitting back, twiddling your thumbs while the nation crumbles beneath you. While McCain would have run this country into the ground in the first 5 minutes, you promised us so much more than this. Man up and take charge of your country! The time for moderate action is well behind us, and we need to radically change this quagmire of national crisis. The health care reform is a joke, put up simply for the sake of progress. There is a breakdown in legislature caused by the stubbornness of the Congress and the futility of red tape. The economy is stagnant and joblessness is still a huge issue. This situation is just getting worse and we need you to be the President we voted for and make the change. Change this corrupt and corporate nation into a more peaceful, just, and honest place to live.

Sincerely,

A passionate American humanitarian

An unexpected afternoon

I can hear the tweeting birds and rushing leaves and signs of life, life outside my window. The world is warm and like a womb, encloses you in softness and comfort. But my work remains inside, my thoughts remain contained by painted purple fingers clacking heavily on the keys. The world outside the window calls my name, and I click ignore. My brother sits beside me, coffee cup is evidence of early morning actions. A sip, a sigh, we slip into quiet contentment. He in his white Mac world of Web and I in my black PC, we surf the same waves but rarely meet. The world beyond our fingertips is that large, that we can both be submerged in the same maze of movies and entertainment, social networking, business workings, funny links and freaky kinks; this world is a large one to hold such dichotomy. He calls my attention to his fishing line to online. "Look, I think I can make a sign." He's a handyman, helluva guy who works with his hands in the hot sun. He calls out jargon that makes no sense to me, where I am in my world. "Marmoleum: natural linoleum."

Crickets.

But still, I like that we sit comfortably and converse with each other and offer our thoughts. "Marmoleum is a floor you can walk on without your feet getting cold." It might as well be in Mandarin, but at least he's talking to me.

Pause, interruption, a sign of destruction of plans. I try my damnedest to offer a meager solution, knocked cold by the absolute impossibility of flexibility.

Ah, well, I won't let this ruin my morning of poetry and slam beats and inspiration and enjoyment. I have much, much work to get done and I've been organizing for hours and I'm taking a break, and I deserve a break? But I can't take a two-hour break if I want to make my date. And I do want to make my date because I only have a week left, a week left to spend with the man who makes my spine tingle. And I do not apologize for that, especially when he was 3 long hours away while we were merely minutes. I love you, and will always, but I need you to realize that I matter too. And this is something I need to do because I do love you and I need to be healthy to love you.

Break time is over, have to get back to my work and my packing and getting my life sorted into cardboard boxes of finality. There is much to do in preparation for my life and I am clearing my mind of my worries and working as diligently as I can.