Time for some dancing in the privacy of my own living room.

A friend reminded me of this song today...

I Am... A Channel. Tune In.

I have found myself starting blog posts and getting lost in what the heck my point was supposed to be and then not finishing them. Maybe also because a lot of the time, I'm writing this at work when I should be working or I am working and I get distracted by what I'm actually getting paid for. This small detail aside, I have thought several times in the past few months about shutting this blog down. I actually had a externally-tearful internal battle about it a little less than a month ago: staring down the behind-the-scenes interface like an ex-lover with whom I had a fat fucking dinosaur femur to pick. But here we are, still, and I'm still unsure I'm ready to deprive my three readers deeper insights into my psyche than my inevitable changeover to Twitter would provide. (By the way, I was on Twitter before all y'all - early 2007 when my friend Al introduced me to it. And then I deleted my account last summer, then re-joined as brashlionroars. And I've updated exactly 30 times in like 4 months. Over it.)

As per usual, I'm experiencing a lil' bit of an existential non-crisis and coming to love myself for the unfocused renaissance woman I am. Instead of beating myself with the question, "Why aren't you famous yet?" or "Why aren't you making money as a performer?", etc, etc, etc, I'm quieting down and enjoying each day as it comes. In reading the latest New Yorker, in an article about the late David Foster Wallace, the sentence about his perception that people with lower intelligence are happier, having the attitude of "one day at a time," jumped out at me. Because this is the attitude that I have been cultivating within the past few years: day by day, moment by moment. There is no future, there is no past. It is only right now. We are all waiting for Godot.

Now, I'm not as smart as some people and I'm a lot smarter than a lot more people, but I'm not going to debate the stupidity of someone that decides to relinquish a great deal of control and settle upon the fact that, hey, the past is gone. I did it, it's done, and all I can do is learn from my mistakes. And maybe I'll make the same mistakes over again. But one day - I'll get it right. And as for the future, it is unwritten. What I am living is the NOW and that is the only place wherein I can institute change.

That said, and since it's taken me over two hours to write this freakin' post (see beginning of post), I don't know how this will correlate, but I have been thinking and re-thinking a lot about what my destiny in life is. I have, for as long as I can remember, wanted to perform. I am good - no - fabulous at it. I have been blessed with a captivating stage presence. I don't think this is bragging; I have been told this by many, many people. And no one has ever had the balls to tell me I sucked, so either I surround myself with gutless scaredy-cats or I just don't suck. Even when "Super Glossy!" was lightly panned as an uninteresting script, each reviewer commented on my ability to sell it through a stunning performance.

I have tried many different paths to the stage, there has been something about every single path that hasn't totally clicked for me. I don't like the auditioning part of acting (and to be fair, I have never fully given it a shot; there is just so much fear around it for me that I have successfully talked myself into hating it), I don't like the memorization of good story-telling, and I don't like the pressure of coming up with new material that stand-up comedy demands (among many other things I hate about stand-up). However, with the radio show this weekend, something... just... clicked.

Now, I understand, I am a total amateur. And this makes me think of when my grandfather commended a youthful teen-aged me on my ability to move on to something new when something current wasn't working for me. I interpreted this to mean (I don't think my grandfather intended it like this) that I never let things ripen. I get discouraged and because I am lucky enough to have the talent to do a lot of different things, I just keep moving to the next thing that I think will hold me. The incoming of accolades and encouragement I have received from Sunday night's show (again, no one has had the balls to tell me I sucked, but would it matter anyway? I'm freaking high from what I believe I can do now) have me thinking that the life I've been meant to live is now right in front of me, if not shrouded by inexperience and the uncertainty of How.

I took the Myers' Briggs personality test a couple of weeks ago and discovered I am an ENFP. Now, one might take this to be a fancier kind of Zodiac, but it was all the sign I needed - I am the Inspirer. Ever since Mr. Moore's sociology class in high school when I drew what I wanted engraved on my tombstone, and I paraphrase, "An Influential Voice For All," I have known that I want to touch the hearts and minds of everyone I meet. Doing the show on Sunday rekindled my joy for listening to other people's endeavors and knowing that the world is a better place with their puzzle piece in it. And it made me realize that I just want to talk to people about how they're living their dreams and I want to do it in a public forum so that everyone can hear how simple it truly is. You just have to tune in, past all the stimuli we're inundated with; listen to your soul and jump.

So here I go. I discovered this past week (here's Providence working for you - BTW, my belief in a "higher power," has unexpectedly taken a handle on me... weird. 13-year-old Courtney would have not talked to me) that I have a couple of unrelated connections to the same local radio station. I have connections from the radio station I used to work at in San Diego. All of these people believe in my ability to do this. I believe in my ability to do this because it's just there. And - I get to do everything I'm good at: use my stage presence (which of course will be all vocal, but that's there), be funny off-the-cuff, talk to others, and inspire others. And go to work in a T-shirt and jeans.

This might be my new-fangled crazy idea, but I'm ready to go for it. Who's with me??

Stay tuned.

Remember this?

So cheesy, but sometimes the most poignant stuff is:

Carly +1

Now Doreen is coming out for Saturday night? What? This is going to be my favorite weekend ever.

This might be what it will look like:



This just in: No Doreen this weekend. It was turning out to be too good to be true. Doreen, we will raise a glass or NINE in your honor!!

Gimme a Wild Turkey on the rocks... in memoriam.

On Saturday night, I was writing this entry in my head about my breakup with Trevor that happened that morning. I was going to write about fundamentals versus circumstances and isn't everything just a result of circumstance? On Sunday afternoon, I drove over to Allegra's for some BSG after spending the morning moving from couch to bed to couch (unable to decide whether to continue sleeping or crying). I had been told it would take a while for my Spicy Chicken Sandwich at the Wendy's drive through, so could I please just park my car by the sign and we'll bring it out to you in a minute? Sure. My phone rang. It was Debbie, a friend I hadn't heard from in a while. Happy to see her name on my phone, I picked up with a jubliant "Hey!"

She told me James had died.

James was Jenny's boyfriend, but above that, he was a dear friend to everyone in Jenny's life. Once Jenny and James met, we all knew that Jenny had found her match. This boisterous, ambitious, loud-mouthed, but extremely loving and generous tattooed teddy bear who would never let you say no to an invite out, always insisted you have another drink, and before you could protest, it was sitting in front of you, taken care of. And James would be smiling at you with a smirk you couldn't refuse, his glass held high for you to clink your own against. A Wild Turkey on the rocks. James is the guy who got me to appreciate bourbon/whiskey/scotch (though I'm still a novice) and tried his best to get me to say YES to life. Because that's how he lived: YES to friends, to late nights out, to glorious food, to things that one should probably say no to, but James said yes because, as his myspace quote goes, "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry for tomorrow we may all be dead!" He said YES to life. And his was cut short by a heart attack at 37 years old.

James was the chef at Delmonicos Steak House in NYC and had several other high profile restaurants under his belt. Time Out NY even featured him in an article about Ginger, the healthy Chinese cuisine restaurant he helped launch in East Harlem. Here's a video of him talking about it. He had a passion for food and it showed every time Jenny had a party and James would create a spread that would spin your head. He treated me, Trevor, the Jacksons, and our other friends to fabulous multi-course meals at Delmonicos on several occasions and he always took so much pride in the delicious meal he served his friends.

I didn't always get along with James. Whether it was because of my possessiveness over Jenny, who is one of my best friends, and the rocky road their relationship took in the beginning or whether it was because James and I are both strong, hotheaded, opinionated personalities, I didn't always appreciate him. But he worked hard to win me over and talked to me a handful of times about how much he loved Jenny and wanted to take care of her and thanking me for accepting him in my and her life. It became quickly apparent that James was one of the best guys for Jenny in many ways. I have seen few couples that laughed and loved as hard and as loud as they did.

I just talked to Jenny a couple of hours ago, only the second time I have done so since I moved. I'm sorry that she and I have not been in better contact and that we've allowed our lives to get so busy that this is the circumstance under which we express our love for each other. She expressed her gratitude that James died knowing she loved him and that was his wish.

I will, like Rob, getting myself some bourbon tonight and drinking to James Marshall's awesome life in which I am so lucky to have been a part. And to any of James' friends that are reading, bless all of you and much love and healing to you. I am working on getting out to the funeral in NY this Friday.

R.I.P., James.



photo by Rob Boudon

We Are Family

Yesterday was my friend Catherine's 30th birthday. Catherine and I have known each other since we were 6 and 7 years old, respectively, she being a grade lower than I. So, knowing that she is back in California and turning 30 is just a slightly weird feeling. It's as if your own 30th birthday (even though I have nooooo idea how that feels and won't for another 12 years) isn't enough to remind you how time is flying by. When a lifelong friend who is 6 months younger than you (again, this is hypothetical) rounds such a milestone, it's as if it really hits home.

Yesterday was also my grandfather's 82nd birthday. I spoke with him and my step-Gramma, Dorothy, and as we talked, I sunk deeper into another one of my descending waves. (I was explaining to my mother a half-hour later that my moods are up and down these days, and though the difference between them isn't like mania/depression, I definitely have good days and bad. Though the good days these days exist below the ideal line of happiness. I would deduce this means I'm simply depressed and not bipolar, which is quite a relief. Although I'm also not a doctor. I'll take what I can get I suppose). I love talking with my grandfather because he is a gruff, funny, and yet tender man and I know he loves and admires me very much. I can't help but feel like the loser in my family. Now that my brother, my cousin Eric, and I are all grown up (I'm the oldest), I'm the one that has the least amount of "adult credits" to my name. My brother has been married for four years, is about to start school again to become an electrical engineer (this is what Grandpa tells me), and is making a pretty good living anyway working on boats. And my cousin just had a baby and works a respectable corporate job. Growing up, I had always felt like the star grandchild, the one with the most promise in life. Now, especially as the oldest, I feel like the loser: single, financially unstable, and still chasing after her childhood dream and not selling her soul for money, stability, and a family. I'm not accusing my dear brother and cousin of doing this, I just know that my soul calls me elsewhere and I know it's not the beaten path and I also know this makes me appear to be a loser who can't get her shit together. And granted, when I say "know," I know this means how I perceive the situation. And whether there actually is a situation. I suppose I just am feeling a lack of that admiration I received as the over-achieving oldest grandchild and now that my brother and cousin are growing up to be the men we always knew they could be, I'm left out because I've slowed down in my progression.

Although I really haven't.

I don't know why my grandfather's opinion matters as much as it does and it's not like he's really given it to me the way I see it. I'm clearly projecting my own insecurities about the life I've chosen upon myself in the form of his supposed disapproval. We ended the phone call with "I Love Yous" and it was admittedly not as harrowing a call on my self-esteem as I might paint it, but the interactions throughout the past few years have just been getting decreasingly "I'm proud of you," and increasingly "look at what your brother and cousin have." And the residue builds in my memories. At least my grandmother died knowing I was going somewhere.

Clearly, I'm looking down the tunnel of self-doubt and not taking into account the birthday & Christmas cards & donations for my work with notes that say "We're so proud of you." I say this with absolutely no irony and a genuine sense of "duh."

I lay on my bed with tears falling down my face after the phone call. I called Catherine next after I breathed myself off the edge and had a light-hearted chat for a minute. Upon hanging up with her, I knew my next step was to call someone to get a little breath of hope. And the only person I could think to talk to was my mother, although as most mother/daughter relationships go, I was scared that I would not find the solace I needed. Thank goodness I was wrong.

I talked to my mother for the shortest hour ever and she totally lifted my spirits and made me feel like the winner I am. It's amazing to experience my parents' spiritual awakenings as I experience my own. I realize this is no coincidence, again just a matter of my perspective. I am so lucky, no matter how much dysfunction or screaming or resentment exists, I have grown up within the home of two still-happily married people who continue to support me through their faith in my dreams. It's never been perfect and I don't expect it to be, but the words my mother imparted to me last night were exactly what I needed to hear. She is herself living through a time of little work and trying to find things to keep her occupied (like relearning the piano! Awesome!) and reminding herself that in this downtime is to be found peace and rejuvenation. This is congruous to my life here in the Tundra, where I am sitting at a desk all day then sitting in front of the TV or on my bed all night. There's a lot to do here, but lack of funds at this moment prohibits me from doing much... at least according to my limited research. Mom reminded me that I'm going through a tough time right now: a new home in a new city, a new angle on a relatively new relationship, a new climate, a new way of life. I have to allow myself a period of adjustment. My argument was that I'm wasting time. That every minute I'm not doing something to further my career, be it writing, acting, playing banjo, making contacts, seeing a show, performing an open mic, getting out there... but she assured me that I'm where I need to be and I have all the time in the world. I tell myself this frequently, but sometimes I need to hear it from someone else, especially someone older and wiser. I hung up the phone with a renewed sense of direction and purpose.

And not to discount my father's phone call to me this week acknowledging my tough times and bestowing his normal feel-good stories about the people in his life and making me feel really happy that he's enjoying his life so much right now.

My parents rule. I love you, Mom and Dad. (And Grandpa & Dorothy too. Everyone.)

Lil' Miss Consolidation

Scroll down a little here and you can see I've added the nifty new feature of "labels," or as I like it, "The Crap I Talk About." Obviously, I need to be a little more general with my tags or else I'm going to have more labels than a supermarket or the mall. OH! I'm so clever.

Addendum: Though I've only been labeling for a couple of weeks here, I am happy to report the label with the most entry associations is... "love."

Maybe I'm not so bitter and angry after all. :)

Why you gotta make me like Valentine's Day?

Since I've been creaming over design all day today:

Lookit these awesome Valentine's Day cards that were posted on Boing Boing today!!


Send one to your boo.

File Under: But why do I care?

Does anybody else wonder why The Millionaire Matchmaker is only matching male millionaires?

I'm sure there are some rich-a$$ ladies out there that would love to find Mr. Right.

Just What I Needed To Hear

Sure, Courtney, you can always find prettier, handsomer, skinnier, wiser, richer, younger, or zippier. But more often than not, one might learn the most, laugh the loudest, and smile the widest with those they've already found, especially when they stop looking elsewhere.

Tallyho,
The Universe

Why I Moved

There are many reasons, just barely more than the reasons to stay, but one of them was love.



Trevor packed me a lunch today. I told him I forgot my lunch at home and it bummed me out because money is tight and contrary to popular belief, Minneapolis is not that much cheaper than New York when it comes to everyday expenditures. He had just bought a truckload of groceries and was gracious enough to share them with me. Add to that, he got up at the ungodly hour of 7:45am to do so (he usually gets up around 11amish). He made me a tuna salad sandwich (meaning he mixed the Miracle Whip and tuna this morning too), put some pineapple in a container, potato chips in a ziplock, a little Vitamin Water, and a fun size 3 Muskateers and Reese's Peanut Butter cup for dessert.

The little things go a long way. Whenever I get caught up in my head about why I moved and how life was much easier when I was single I just remember all the wonderful tokens of love I experience each day, whether from Trevor, my kitty, a friend, or the city.

It was the best tasting tuna sandwich ever.

Happy Anniversary

Today is Brett & Emily Jackson's fifth wedding anniversary! They are two of my best friends in the whole wide world. I wish them many more years of awesome happiness with each other and of the awesome happiness the two of them as a team bring to others.



They've been together for a total of about 13 years. Wow! I told Brett today how he and Emily are one of my "model couples" - a great example of working with the awesome and the not-so-much (I've seen them on both ends) and still remaining a super-power partnership.