I quick note before I turn in for the night:

I got home tonight from a wonderful night at Cobb's, for which none of the people I invited showed -- fuck 'em, to find that I had a box from Amazon.com in my mail box. I had ordered a couple of books on Social Workers and Counseling so I wasn't surprised. I got inside and after a few minutes of putzing about, giving the cats new toys and whatnot, I opened the package.

The books were gift wrapped. "What the..." I thought, "I better not get charged for this." I looked at one card, and it was blank, I opened the second one, expecting it to be blank as well, the simple, sweet note read, "Chase your dreams, girl." It wasn't signed. I looked inside the envelope that held the invoice and saw that it was sent by Ms Tara.

I started to cry. Half an hour later, I'm still a little weepy.

Such kindness, such perfection, I don't know what to do except cry. And thank the Great Whoever for leading such wonderful people into my life. I only hope I can be as good a friend when the need arises.

I'm reading a book on how to be a counselor. It's been a long time since I read something in order to learn. I've had to re-read several paragraphs several times. Sometimes out loud. I wonder if the cats will pick it up before I do.

I really want a book by Lewis Robinson called Offficer Friendly. He's an author from Maine and I want to support him but I can't justify it. I have no money coming in, I can't buy books that are for fun. So if anyone wants to buy me a book, that's the one I want.

Diane and I are going out tonight to scope out a few gay bars with Charles and maybe his boyfriend, Michael. Ms Tara is coming to town and we are doing recon for a good place to hang.

Then tomorrow is RICK! Yay, Rick! It's been too long since I've seen that man. He inspires me.

Let's see, what's new...

I have a meeting on Friday with the PBX Director, HR Director, and my union rep about getting my job back.

I don't think it's going to happen. In a way, I don't want it to happen. Everytime I think about what happened I get angry, everytime I picture the office, or the employee entrance, or the cafe, I get angry. I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, I am saying that there are others, who still have their jobs, that have done worse and management have bent over backwards to let them keep their jobs.

I'm not expecting anyone to bend over backwards for me, I just want a chance to prove myself.

(As I was typing that last sentence, I accidently wrote, "probe myself." Perhaps my brain is trying to take advantage of me. Who knew that my brain was a predator.)

Good news!

Rick is going to be in town this weekend, and I need one of those Rick Bear Hugs. He gives the warmest, most encompassing, loving hugs in the world. And he's one of the smartest people I know, if not the smartest, and I'm going to pick his brain as to what I should do next. I get the feeling he's going to tell me to do something on stage. That would not be a bad thing to hear right now. I could use that feeling of worth right about now.

I lost my job today.

Well, I didn't lose it, I know where it is, but when I go there, there's another guy doing it.

(This is a Bobcat joke. Sadly, it is also true.)

I have been informed, by certain parties, (Di) on behalf of other certain parties (Tara Lee) that I don't update my blog often enough.

I didn't know anyone was reading it. Now I'm going to have to think of stuff. Damn.

Let's see.

I'm writing again. I managed to write one sketch and two monologues before I was feld by the flu. There are ideas in my head again. There haven't been any in a long time, bad sleep, bad moods, and lack of self worth have kept me from doing what I love. What I think I'm good at. What I hope to make my living at one day.

I'm going to get back to my novel. More notes. More story lines. It might be a long process, but I'm looking forward to it. Now if someone would perform my skits, I'd be very happy.

The theme song for the American verson of Queer as Folks is like being tapped on the skull by a perfectly tuned ballpeen hammer.

I saw Mark Linn-Baker on the street today.

I shook his hand and told him that I loved him.

He laughed. Then I told him that My Favorite Year is one of my favorite movies.

Why did I have to tell him that I loved the very first thing he was in, and that is over 25 years old.

Sigh!