I've been pretty bad at blogging lately. There's been a lot going on, certainly some legitimately interesting things (or so I think), but I've been too insane/manic/depressive/hungry/tired/anything else you can think of to sit down and do it.

Now is the time!

Going way back, Thanksgiving (my GOD) was a lot of fun. It was great to be home-- I had been really looking forward to it and was so happy to be in my house, in my old room, with Slinky, with a real kitchen, with a bathroom that doesn't make me into a rageaholic every time I try to take a shower. Most of the extended family was there and I was so happy to see them. Fun things included eating way too much, eating some more, verging on barfing a million times, antagonizing the Guba's dog, eating still MORE, and playing Balderdash with a combination of people who didn't understand the rules, people who understood but had no regard for the rules, very Christian people, drunk people, and people who didn't want to be playing.

A highlight was going, the day after T-giving, to The Newest Lunch in Schenec and 'secretly' 'flirting' with all the guys who work there. This has been going on for approximately six years. They must know. There are a lot of them; Ange is my main crush. When he says "Hey, how you been?" twice a year, my heart goes pitter-pat. My family makes fun; but my crush on the hotdog man is all real. Some day! I'll tell him my love. Until then....I'll take one with everything.

After Thanksgiving, my insanity incread 450% because time started to run out before MY READING. Which happened two days ago. In the week leading up to Tgiving, I spent a minimum of four hours at Cafe Grumpy in Greenpoint, scraping together change to buy cups of coffee, ripping my hair out and doing a lot of agonizing over the three words I'd manage to write. I didn't do a lick of work over Thanksgiving. When I got back to New York, I realized that the new draft still didn't have an ending and that I was in big trouble. However-- I put one together, the folks at La Mama assembled a cast, and we made it through the to day of the rehearsal. I had only a few nervous breakdowns along the way.

And then it was Tuesday, my birthday, and the day of the reading. It's easy to guilt people into coming to a reading that they wouldn't necessarily come to when it's ALSO your birthday, I have to say. My parents were there, as well a many, many of my wonderful friends from all different places-- work, school, shows, etc. I can't imagine having another birthday when I might have so many people that I like in one place. The reading went as well as I could have hoped it to go. I was pleased. And a wreck. I wrang my hands, bit my nails, and compulsively took off and put on my sweater during it. I was flushed and my heart was beating out of my chest. I haven't been so worked up in a long, long time. It felt good. At the end, I was brought onstage while people sang happy birthday, which embarassed me to no end, and which made me turn even redder. Then there was a short, relatively painless talkback in which I attempted to walk the line between charmingly self-deprecating and impressively cool. Uh, I think we can all guess which one I veered more towards. Talkbacks are the devil. The only good part was the lights glinting off my sweet kicks. I liked that.

Some folks went out for drinks afterwards, and I had a great, great time laughing and drinking and eating cookies (my mom made some shaped like Lincoln-- do you see where I get it?). My parents gave me too many presents, including a pair of saddle shoes. They are fucking awesome. (I had a fit last night at the pizza place by my apartment when Nitz and I spotted a hipster girl at the next table wearing a pair. I was like 'NO! This was going to be MY style! How dare the hipsters co-opt it already?!)

So, now I'm 23, have cool shoes, and know that I have a lot of really awesome friends. That's good.

I think I'm slowly crashing from the nervousness/excitement of the past few weeks. The proof? I slept about 12 hours last night and spent today in bed, watching Arrested Development. Indeed. Painting my nails was my biggest accomplishment.

I don't know what's next for me. I know now for sure, though I've known it before, that though it makes me insane, I'm definitely WAY better off when I'm working really hard on something. I should do something new.

We'll see.

Christmas is coming up soon, which I can't believe. Despite attempts not to, I'm falling into the trap and getting stressed out about it.

In the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger in one of his finest roles, I need to "CHILL."

Finally: We've gotten two letters to Santa here at work. The first one was from a girl who was writing on behalf of herself and her two younger siblings. The second on is from a 2-year old (a likely story!!) who asks for clothing and toys and ends her letter this way:

'Please Santa make my wish come true. I will really apprecaite it. This will be the best gift ever for Christmas and for my birthday that's in December 11th and I'm turn 3. Thank you so much. I love you Santa. I wish you a merry, merry, merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.'

I'm not sure how these people confused a beat off-off Broadway theatre with the North Pole-- perhaps it's the red facade?-- but these letters are too cute to be true.

Rain! Go away!