A Year Later...

A year ago today, I was sitting in a hospital bed in Beverly Hills, CA, fresh out of surgery and completely unaware of how far into a pit of misery I had fallen. I was broken, but not just in the physical sense (although I was very much broken in the physical sense- I broke 3 bones in my ankle and dislocated the darn thing running a Spartan race). It took a lot of moaning (and not the good kind), groaning, whining, complaining, crying and pain to get me to where I am today. Not to mention compassion, forgiveness, perseverance, rehabilitation and a whole lotta love. When I left California on January 6th to come home to recuperate in NH I NEVER thought that

A. I would stay

B. I would be so much happier here than there

C. I could learn to love again- myself and others

I was in a really bad place. Even if you took away the crutches and pink cast and ugly scars, there was still the shell of the person I used to be- I was supremely overweight, unhappy, in a relationship that was going nowhere, I had been working at two jobs that made me absolutely miserable and I wasn't writing and singing. I wasn't doing any of the things that make me happy.

Fast forward a year. I am still far from a perfect specimen. I have days when I look in the mirror and I'm not-so-silently cursing the MOON-sized pimple that had to show up at the MOST i opportune time or those ten pounds that, if lost, could REALLY help out my silhouette. Or the little voice in my head telling me I need to be doing more or that I'm not good enough. And I too have crap days when everything sucks. I still have many things I need to work on. BUT-  MOST DAYS?!

I feel like Superwoman. I go to the gym and I'm the only one smiling like an idiot on the treadmill because I just ran two miles on a slightly bionic ankle. I'm really good at my jobs and I'm appreciated for the work I do. I surround myself with caring, loving people who wish the best for me and I for them.  I take pride in my talents and show them off in as humble a way possible. I work on my art and it moves me. I am aware that I must take care of myself first before taking care of others. I love my body- flaws and all. My family and I like each other again.  I'm dating again. And I don't hate it. I'm learning to be better with my money (it's an ongoing process). I'm learning to work smarter, not harder. I'm learning to embrace those around me who are different from me but love them the same way- with a full heart. I'm learning to have fun and not set expectations to a sky-high level while keeping my standards intact. I'm learning to love myself for exactly who I am while acknowledging that there are things I'd like to tweak.

So, thank you to anyone who has helped me find my wings again on this last year's journey from Hell and back- it's been a prickly ride and I'm sure there are times when I didn't deserve your love and kindness and friendship. But I want you to know that it hasn't gone unnoticed and that I would have never been able to be standing here today feeling like this if it weren't for all of you who share little pieces of my heart. So- thank you :) I'm grateful for this moment

Coming Clean...And Starting Over

This may be a long one... but it's a necessary one.

As some of you may know, I recently moved back to New Hampshire from Los Angeles. I broke my ankle in December and came back to recuperate. I didn't know I was going to stay. I didn't know what I really needed most in the world was to be surrounded by family. I didn't know how much of myself I had lost out in California and just how miserable I had become. But the thing about family is, well....they tell it like it is. And for a while I didn't want to hear it. They think they brainwashed me, but I know the truth. I came to terms with my life as it was- the lies I had been feeding myself for a long time- and I allowed myself to see a future in which I was happy. And it included very few things that were currently in my life at the time I moved home.

Before I begin, I'd like to add a disclaimer:
I will not use any party's names within my blog.
I do not wish to make anyone's lives more difficult or make anyone feel as though I'm bashing him/her.
But these things need to be said. Because they are my truth, and it is time to come clean.


My relationship with the person that for a while I really thought I would end up with has ended. It's still rather fresh, but it was coming for so long that in some ways it feels like its been over forever. In the beginning, it was wonderful. He was wonderful. We were great together. Maybe there were some warning signs right off the bat but I didn't see them. Almost half of the 3 years we spent together was spent in some sort of turmoil. I'm pretty easy to please. I don't ask for much. What do I want in a relationship? Someone who loves me. Someone who is caring, compassionate, sexy, driven. Someone who wants the same things I do. (Wanna check out my other blog about re-entering the dating world? Just started it but it should provide some laughs! thesamethinglp.tumblr.com

Anyway, I don't think the above qualities (and maybe a few more) are asking too much of anyone. I don't need expensive things. I don't need to be driven around in nice cars. I like cheap dates. Sometimes I even like to pay. I know who I am and I know I make a pretty good girlfriend. I'm easy to love. However, at some point throughout the relationship I became more and more convinced that I wasn't so easy to love. That I always had to do more and that whatever I was doing was not enough.  I ask myself now why at any point within that last year and half I couldn't just break it off right then and there. Because I was not being treated well. I was made to feel that if I left, I was unloveable. It wasn't said in so many words but I was so beat down on a consistent basis that my self-confidence took a nosedive. I truly feel (and though he would vehemently disagree) that I was in an emotionally abusive relationship. I've never been in a physically abusive relationship (thank gosh) but the manipulation I dealt with (and didn't quite even realize at the time) was absolutely too much. I don't wish the way I felt on my worst enemies. Granted during the last year and a half of our relationship I was working at two jobs that made me miserable. But he was doing very little to try and turn my outlook around and increase my happiness. When everything else sucks, the people you love and come home to at the end of the day should bring you up, not push you down. This was not the case. It took months of therapy and a kiss from someone new to be able to really recognize what was happening and how much I needed to let go of what I thought I wanted.

I was told not to wear certain colors, patterns and textures of clothes. Anytime I brought up putting my nose ring back in I got the cold shoulder. When I brought up how I was feeling, I was called crazy and emotional. I was told that it seemed like I was always on my period. I was made to feel that my past sexual experiences were dirty and bad and I constantly had to explain my past choices. Three consecutive birthdays were almost ruined. I resented my family. I was pulled away from things I loved. I was made to feel like an ignorant, non-educated woman. I was always being told the best way to do things in the most condescending way. I was made to question who I am to the very core of my being.

I went from living with my boyfriend, to being broken up with on the way to the airport before a much-needed vacation (but not being able to truly let go, because I was told "If you stop speaking to me, we'll have no chance of ever getting back together again"), doing long-distance while technically not together, being told that my normal feelings were not justified, and essentially being told that when we were back in the same city that he probably wouldn't have much time to see me. I had to ask him to tell me he loved me. At one point I was on suicide watch from 1000+ miles away.

The entire second half of our relationship, my family tried to tell me just how much shit I was in. I either didn't see it or didn't want to see it. Probably a combination of the two. He hated my family. He pushed me away from them, in the sense that he continued to treat me with less than I deserved and my family knew all along it just wasn't right. And I was trying so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt and see past the bullshit that I would just get upset when they tried to show me what was really happening. I didn't realize just how bad everything had gotten. I had gained A LOT of weight and I looked terrible. I couldn't fit into 97% of the clothes in my closet and I rotated between a few choice outfits. I've always hid my weight well, but there was no hiding it anymore. And I was so lost that I don't even think I realized just HOW bad it had gotten.

While I was in LA, I got into debt. Several credit cards worth of debt. It started innocently, a nail polish here and a dinner out there. And then it got bad very fast and I couldn't pull myself out of it. It was this thing, always hanging over my head. And for what? So I could have some "things?" I guess I thought I needed things to make me happy since I wasn't finding happiness anywhere else. I wasn't playing music. I was too miserable. I was lying so much to myself I didn't even know where to start when I would write. And then if I did write something, I would cry. Listening to music in the car. Any sad songs and I would cry. And I never knew why. I didn't tell my mom about the debt, but I was working like a crazy person and didn't even have a day off. She decided to help me out for several months, sending me some money with the notion that it would be for basic necessary expenses and that it would enable me to have time to really pursue my music. What did I do? I used the money for the credit cards. And I didn't even do a good job, because you know I kept using the card. Maybe not as much as I had been, but my head was so f'ed up with everything and I was so miserable and down so low, in so deep that I was drowning and I didn't even know it. It took many long nights and knock-down drag-out fights between me and my family for me to even start earning back their trust. It took them a while to bring me into the fold again. I screwed up. Majorly. And it's honestly a miracle that things ended up the way they did, and that I am sitting here early on a Saturday morning writing this to you, in the state that I'm in.

I've made a boatload of mistakes. I'm 26-years-old and I feel like I've already lived a full life. But I also feel like I have such an exciting life ahead of me. I still have so many things to figure out but I really feel like I'm on the right path. I've lost over 35 pounds since I've been home. I still have some work to do, and I need to get back to strength training (Michelle Obama arms, here I come!) but I feel and look so much better. I feel sexy again. I feel like me again! I'm busy, working three jobs to pay for the moving expenses of getting my things back from LA, but I'm happy again. I'd love to be dating and I need to be playing and writing more but I've come leaps and bounds from where I was. I think Boston is in my future. I've written so many great new songs since coming home (I played a little solo show for my mom and made her cry- like sobbing cry!) and I'm actually at the point where I can say that something I've written is good and that when people ask me if I'm a good singer, I can say yes in a way that's confident but humble at the same time. I have new friends from three great jobs and I'm re-learning about me. I'm not settling for anything less than I deserve in all areas of my life. And I'm willing to work hard and be patient until what I deserve comes along. I'm falling in love with myself, and for right now that's enough for me.

Pimples

I tried to get creative with the title for today's post, people, but I figured I'd just get right down to business. What IS it about those pesky little pus-filled things that just makes me feel so irritated and usually just downright UGLY?!

But seriously. Maybe writing about pimples is stupid, but I feel like the issue is really bigger than that. For whatever reason, when I get a pimple I feel like the ugliest person that ever lived. I've been taking crap for my face ever since I was in high school and I've had my share of bad face days but I really thought the worst of it was behind me. Now mind you, I've never had bad acne. But I did, for a period of time, have pimples that would not relent and would come with lots of friends at a time. But I had a pretty long period of time where I'd get the occasional pimple but it was nothing to write home about. NOW for whatever reason, my freaking stress hormones have decided to wreak havoc on my poor little face. My chin is a battlefield and the rest of my face really isn't safe either. In the big scheme of things, acne isn't a big deal. It's a surface thing. It might seem shallow of me to even be discussing it. But when I get several pimples at once, it's all I can see when I look in the mirror. I don't see my big brown eyes, my usually pretty complexion, my nice smile or anything else. It's like someone took a picture and all the little pimples are in focus and everything else fades into the background. For some reason, when I break out, my self-confidence ends up in the toilet, and there's nothing I can do except wait out the war that's being waged on my face and hope to come out unscathed. So although my family roles their eyes when I ask if they would like to take up residence with the (bear with me, I'm exaggerating here) 1,000 pimples that live currently on my chin, they roll their eyes and start to get frustrated with me. But when I look in the mirror and all I can see are pimples, it takes me back to high school and feeling very unattractive. I get so in my head about it that when I feel that someone is admiring me I almost get embarrassed for them- like there's nothing about me that deserves a second look.

For the most part, I feel very blessed with the hands I've been dealt physically and mentally/emotionally/personality-wise. But there are always going to be those pressure points with me- pimples, legs that haven't been shaved, and frizzy/bad hair. Oh, and did I mention that my haircut makes me look kind of like a triangle-headed muppet? So that paired with the pimples and the fact that my ever-swollen healing ankle is now growing courser hair than usual is enough to make this girl crazy! Maybe you don't have these same pressure points but I'm sure there are things that get you going too.

I was trying on clothes today in the dressing room of Marshall's as part of my birthday present (I'm learning to stay on a budget...my mission was to find 3 tops and 2 pairs of pants for $100). I found a few things that were brightly colored (the snow and winter gloom are KILLING me right now and all I have here are black and drab colors right now!) and tried them on- for the first time in a lot of years I actually felt good about the way these things were fitting on my body. I still have a long way to go to get to my ultimate weight loss goal, but I've lost about 20 pounds and gained some muscle back and I was so excited that these brightly colored confections looked good on my frame. HOWEVER, only one of the tops was actually reasonably priced so I had to put back a Juicy Couture blouse, Michael Kors zipper tee and a pair of Lucky Brand jeans. Because even though it's Marshall's....it STILL wasnt' going to be below $100. So I had to put back the items that looked so good. Was I a little sad upon leaving the store? Of course. But I was also happy that I enjoyed putting clothes on my body again and I hope that continues. I had a moment, though (here's the tie-in) that I looked in the mirror, full-body and full-face and thought wow! Pimples and all, I look really pretty today. And that was a really great moment for me.

So I'll try to be not so hard on myself for each stupid little pimple that makes its way to the surface of my face (but could we be done now, please? All the stress from the last job and all the dirt from the Spartan race should be gone now, so if I could go back to normal, that would be awesome!) but with my crazy anxiety issues that I'm dealing with, it could be difficult. I'm working on those, too, but it's difficult. I have to make sure I do things that scare me a little every day so that the big things won't feel so scary and so I'll be making strides to combat my anxiety. I made myself a schedule today to cross some things off my music to-do list and although the anxiety still looms, I feel better that I've accomplished some things.

I apologize if this has felt like a big, rambling waste of time. But sometimes we all have to look inside and realize that a pimple doesn't have to crumble our entire sense of self. So here's to looking in the mirror and loving what we see, even if it isn't perfect...or even our version of perfect!

Lizz

What's Worse? A Broken Heart or a Broken Ankle?

Okay, so I'm officially the worst blogger in the world. Can you really say that you have a blog if you only write, say....once a year? I don't think so. I enjoy doing this, and even though probably only two people read it, I'd like to utilize this outlet more often than I have in the past. Want some updates? Here goes nothing...

SPOILER ALERT! So I'm currently in NH dealing with a broken ankle. My boyfriend thought it would be a good idea sometime this past year to sign us up for the Spartan Sprint in Malibu. I don't know if any of you have done triathalons, mud runs, 5Ks, what have you, but this thing looked challenging but like a good milestone to have. The idea was to do this "towards the end of our weight loss journeys." Uh huh. Yeah, right. Of course, when it came right down to it, my boyfriend was out of town. There was the first problem. This obstacle course race was SO far out of my comfort zone I couldn't really imagine doing it by myself...yet I had already paid my $65 to do it and on the video there's a dude with no legs doing it...so with that in mind and my aunt's convincing I decided to say f*ck it and do it anyway. I had a few work friends who told me they'd do it, but you know how that always goes... if I've learned anything since becoming a real life adult, at the end of the day you can't truly count on anyone but yourself. So my hope was growing slim as the days were counting down to the race but one of my best friends, Sarah, decided to do it with me not even a week out! I was beyond excited. Now, at least I'd have someone laughing WITH me instead of AT me when I fell on my ass a bunch of times...or maybe still "AT" me anyway...

So Sarah and I get to Calabasas, CA at what felt like the ass crack of dawn (probably around 7) on Sunday, December 8th. It's freezing cold...like I seriously felt like I was in NH. Not cool, California, not cool. I was wearing a t-shirt and capri workout pants and Sarah wore short shorts. I knew we were at least going to have to tussle with some mud and I think Sarah regretted the shorts as soon as we left the car. We then got on a shuttle bus to get to the race in Malibu (about 20 minutes away), which was located right by the Biggest Loser Resort. We got our timing chips and bracelets and all that good stuff and signed some stupid waiver that said something along the lines of "THERE IS A VERY GOOD CHANCE YOU MAY DIE TODAY," which really should have been a sign right at the beginning. There was a small fire pit that Sarah and I huddled around along with a bunch of other freezing cold Californians until it was just about 9:00 AM, which was when our heat began. Of course we missed our heat but we waited in line for the 9:15 AM heat. Before you even START the race, there's a tall-ish wall you have to jump over. My heart leapt into my throat.  The little voice in my head was saying "Elizabeth, what the f*ck were you thinking? You're so NOT in shape enough for this, and you can't even jump over the stupid wall before the starting line of this godforsaken race!" However, I saw a woman put her foot on a piece of wood that attached the wall to the ground about halfway up and thought "Ahhh...well maybe I can do that too!" And I was successfully  able to get over the wall. The first part of the race is running uphill. If you aren't aware of how out of shape you are, you'll realize it once you are out of breath after, oh, not even a minute? Ha. And I thought the running would be the easy part (and perhaps it was). The first obstacle is a very large netting attached to the ground by metal. You go hand over hand, foot over foot and the hardest/scariest part is getting yourself over the top, especially if you're afraid of heights (like Sarah). There are a mixture of obstacles throughout the race, and if you can't do something you're supposed to do 30 burpees. If you don't know what a burpee is, then...maybe keep it that way. They were basically invented by the devil himself.

Anyway, so we were actually able to do most of the obstacles, even though we definitely needed some help from a few strong men (and one woman!) along the way. The most difficult obstacles (in my mind, anyway) were the monkey bars (very little upper arm strength coupled with a large body to haul). However, the strong woman I mentioned hoisted my fat ass up to the top of the monkey bars so I could place my legs over the top and use my hands and knees to propel me to the other side (NOT EASY. I NEEDED THIS WONDERFUL LADY'S CONSTANT ENCOURAGEMENT AND ALSO MY OWN MIND OVER MATTER TO MAKE IT TO THE OTHER SIDE). Once I was finished with that obstacle, I felt SO accomplished. Granted, I did help, yet I was able to succeed. I was very proud of myself. Some of the more difficult obstacles included a wall with tiny blocks for your feet (caked with mud) which were so slippery I couldn't stay up. Also the most painful obstacle (Obviously except for the one I'm getting to where my injury happened) was the barbed wire crawl. Okay so crawling in mud isn't bad right? It's soft. It's cushiony. People use it for face masks. Great. But this sh*t wasn't just mud....it was muddy rocks. Under low barbed wire. For what felt like a mile. It was awful and I don't think one person left without scabby knees that day. Some even left missing some of the hair they started the day with. Blame the barbed wire. And the muddy rocks.

So as we're getting to the end, there's the part where you have to life a heavy rock-type object up with a rope and bring it down without splashing water. Of course we started with the men's weight one which was NOT happening. So we did the women's one, and even though you were supposed to do it as an individual, we did it together. So we bent the rules a few times. Who's going to be able to do 30 burpees several times and all the hard crap and not be crawling to the finish line? Not this girl! We did 5 burpees and called it a day when we couldn't do an obstacle, like the one where you pull yourself up a rope from a chest-deep pool of water and ring the bell at the top. Not strong enough for that yet. Then there was the spear-throwing. I'm sorry-I can catch a ball but I can't throw a spear. Nope. Not happening. Even if I WERE in tip top shape I'm STILL not sure I could throw a spear and have it stick in a bale of hay. Then the next obstacle we did was basically a few walls that you swim under and some water that you have to swim in. So once you get out of the water you're COMPLETELY drenched, muddy, dirty, slippery. The very last obstacle before the fire pit and the guys who hit you with large padded mallets is a tilted, slippery, muddy wall that you pull yourself up with a rope and then climb over the top. I pulled myself up almost to the top but wasn't strong enough to vault myself over. So I slid down. And I tried again (BIG MISTAKE- KNOW YOUR LIMITS, PEOPLE). Got myself almost to the top for a second time and held myself there, waiting for someone to help pull me over. Some dude finally was trying to help me but the two of us weren't strong enough to pull me over. So I slid down again, this time fast and furious and BLAM! Something cracked. And my leg went all wonky. And I made some sort of gutteral, animal moan-cry and that's when it was all over. I could SEE the finish line. It was probably not even 100 feet away. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A few medics lifted me to the side and two dudes helped me hobble over the finish line. At one point, I forgot my leg didnt work and I put some weight on it- don't know if I further injured myself then or not but not a good idea. They took me (DIRTY, HUNGRY, THIRSTY, FREEZING COLD) into the medic tent and my friend Sarah went to go get the car as they tried to "set" my ankle and put some ice on it. Sarah had to wait for the shuttle (10 mins) take the shuttle (20 mins) drive back (20 mins) and then we drove the 40 mins back to LA to go to Cedar's Sinai because I figured it would be closer to where I was staying. And I didn't want to take an ambulance, because I could already see the near future hospital bills adding up in my head.

So we get to the hospital, and thank god it probably didn't take even an hour for them to get me to a bed and give me some strong ass pain meds. While in the waiting room, my foot/ankle was starting to swell and the shock was starting wear off (PAIN, HERE WE COME!) so it was a good thing they were able to see me probably 10 minutes from when the pain started getting worse. The nurses and doctors and staff at Cedar's were all lovely...minus one nurse who came in to my room early in the morning, said nothing and started unbuttoning my gown to place sensors underneath and around my chest (EKG?). I sort of felt like I was in a bad movie. I mean, I left my modesty at the race, people...they cut off my shoes, I changed in the tent around other people...but not announcing yourself and what you're doing at a hospital? Weird. So I knew very shortly after seeing the ER doctor that I was going to need surgery...I had broken 3 bones in my ankle and dislocated it. I was hoping it was a sprain but had a feeling the sound it made when I fell was something else... I was joking with the staff and trying to keep the mood light. I sort of felt like...well, if this is what's happening, let's just do it and deal with what we have to deal with...there's no going back and "un-breaking" my ankle. So I stayed in the hospital for three days, had my surgery, peed in a bedpan (Nothing makes you feel 85 like wetting the bed while using a bedpan and using a walker), learned to use crutches, etc. Oh and one of the nurses had told me to take my "knickers" off pre-surgery so I did. When the surgical team went to flip me over to do my surgery (face down) the WHOLE room saw my bare ass. Thanks, nurse whatever-your-name-is. Everyone got a good laugh from that one.

My boyfriend was coming to spend the holidays with me later in the month, and he was able to change his ticket to come several weeks early and help me out while I was recuperating. He was a godsend, seriously. Because the truth is that anyone could have been paid to help me, but I wouldn't have trusted anyone else or felt as safe with anyone else helping me out. No girlfriend wants their boyfriend to have to help them wash their hair in the sink, or take a sponge bath or all the little things you normally do yourself when you AREN'T broken. But it was sort of out of my hands and he was so wonderful for helping me with everything. We wanted to have this nice break and instead he had to babysit me the whole time but I so appreciate him being there and changing his plans in a hearbeat for me.

I decided I'd go back to NH for the duration of my recuperation (That sounds like it could be a song from the 70s from Supertramp or something). Let me say that even though it's freaking cold here I think I've been needing some help for a while (besides the ankle) and I'm not sure I would have sought it out had I not needed to come home for further care. First of all, thank GOD for insurance because I would never, ever, ever have been able to pay the hospital bills myself. And I'm very glad my mom has agreed to help me with this process- not just the ankle rehab but I haven't been in a very good place for probably the last year plus. I've had a few jobs that have taken it all out of me and made me not a very nice person to be around. I've been pretty miserable and depressed for the last year and I apologize to anyone who got caught in the crossfire. I'm making changes in my life and learning to love myself again, which includes getting healthy, knowing when to get myself out of bad situations, regaining my self-esteem and self-worth, and doing the things I know are good for me. My mom's taken so many self-help books out of the library that I literally can't read them fast enough. I'm just learning what I can and taking small steps to reclaim my life. Breaking my ankle may have been the catalyst to all my issues coming to light, but many of them have been festering for a while and it was high time to take care of them. So even though I'd rather have NOT broken my ankle, I'm glad I have this time to un-break my heart, soul and mind. This is very difficult for me, but I need to find my way back to the person I was before I became angry at the world, depressed, unmotivated, etc.  I don't like change, but I'm learning to accept what I cannot change and deal with what I can and will change. Let the transformation begin!

xoxo

Lizz

ROCKIN' DOWN THE HIGHWAY

      Okay, LA people. What the heck is up with none of y'all being able to drive? Like, SERIOUSLY!

     On Wednesday, I was out running some errands around town and LITERALLY every boneheaded driving move that can be made WAS MADE BY THE DRIVERS AROUND ME! It's like, come on people, I understand that sometimes you make a mistake or you have poor judgment. But this was INSANITY. I literally was yelling at them in my car. Like...

-Homegirl is supposed to stop at her stop sign. I'm there first. She goes basically right through it, so good thing I'm a defensive driver.

-Dude finds a parking spot, but instead of slowing down and using his turn signal he just stops and then just starts turning into the spot. But, like let me in on this secret. What do LA people have against turn signals? What did a turn signal ever do to you?

-Man in a very large truck (most likely with a very small penis) is on my ass at every stop sign. Like, is it necessary for you to make me feel guilty about making more of a complete stop than most other people do? I'm not gonna sit there for 5 minutes, but let me at least show the stop sign some respect and slow down for it.

-Some idiot in a teeny tiny car is driving so fast, that when I make a right turn into his lane, he decides he can't wait two seconds for me to speed up and then weaves in and out of both lanes until he gets to the lights- which, may I add, I'm right behind him for all them.

-Amigo on the freeway decides he is going to change lanes a bit after I do, but he isn't paying attention and almost side-swipes me. No WONDER the freeways here freak me out! Blind spots and 5 lanes and people not paying attention!! I used my turn signal, you dumbass!

     At any moment in time, if you listened to a recording of me in the car by myself, I'd either be harmonizing along to the radio or calling some lady a dumb bitch for doing something stupid. I'll usually be like, "Oh, okay, honey, well if you don't want to stop, then you should just go right ahead then. Please." Oh and one more thing. Pedestrians? I don't care if you are homeless, 100 years old, on a bike, or walking in stilettos but GET THE EFF OUT OF THE ROAD IF YOU DON'T SEE THE LITTLE WHITE PERSON. Why you gotta make me miss my ENTIRE green light because you walk really slow and decided you'd just make a go for it whenever your little heart desired. Guess what? You got a little brain too. And it's not working for me. I'll give you the right of way most times. But I expect a little courtesy and respect too. You watch out for me, I'll watch out for you.

 I'm sorry, but this all just had to come out. I can't handle all the crazy sometimes! Especially with the crazy I deal with at my job! I'm in the market for a second job...I'm on the lookout for something like an administrative assistant position at a music company. Because I can't have the restaurant be my only source of income anymore...I'm not making as much money and I just can't remain the friendly, nice, caring person I know I am when these hoes are bringing me down on a constant basis.

L

IT'S BEEN A WHILE...

Oh, hello there lost blog readers. If you're still out there, that is. 

    To give an update, I'm still at the same old job, still getting treated like the rug under peoples' dirty shoes, and still not making the money I could/should be making. Look, I get it. At the end of the day, its a job. But I'm kind of over it. I'd love to work at a music company, so I'm looking into that for January. In the meantime, I'm discovering ways to jump-start my career however odd or improbable they may seem. Gotta do something because living month to month was just NOT what I signed up for.

  Thank goodness for all the wonderful, fun and kind people in my life, because you keep me going. I've written a few new songs lately, which will be added to the list of "possibilities for the next record." The BF and I are seeing Toto tomorrow, which I'm SUPER pumped about. I thought they weren't touring anymore so when I heard on the radio they were going to be on Jack FM's "7th Show" I looked around online and found they were performing at a SoCal casino! I probably will be the youngest person in the room, but who cares? Getting to see your favorite bands is the coolest thing ever. Who knows if/when they will ever tour again? Steely Dan was so worth the $125. Toto will be awesome. Michael McDonald, Boz Scaggs, Mat Kearney, Maroon 5, Sia, etc. I hate spending money on concerts, because usually they aren't pre-planned into my budgets, but I LOVE going to concerts. There's nothing like live music...unless you have to stand all night and then I usually wish I were lying in bed listening to the recording. I'm sorry, but I just can't enjoy a concert standing up like I can enjoy one sitting down. You're able to relax and just let the music surround you.

  I recently read this book called "White Girl Problems" which wasn't what I was expecting but was an enjoyable fluff read all the same. My sister always says that I have "rich white girl problems" which of course is a problem in itself seeing as though I am not rich. At this juncture, actually, very far from it. I've been doing alright budgeting my money and whatnot, its just that I always want for things, which I guess is okay, but in this town it seems like everyone is all about instant gratification, and everyone just calls Dad and Grampy-pants for money and its all gravy. Look, I get it. That's awesome that you have some cushion there. And I know if something terrible were to happen, of course my family would help me out financially. But apart from bomb-ass birthday gifts, I don't want handouts. Yeah, it would be difficult for me to afford my contact lenses and health insurance at this point. But I wouldn't want to be so lax about my income/job/financial situation that I get fired left and right and always think/hope my family is going to pick up the pieces of MY mistakes. When do we start holding ourselves accountable for our own successes and our own failures?

  I've been participating in a monthly book club, which is really fun. Its a group of girls of varying tastes and intellect, which is cool. Each month is sort of a gossipfest/book club/potluck sort of deal, and I've been trying out new recipes each month which has been really fun. This month I made a Devil's Food Cake with Hazelnut Crunch from Bon Appetit. It was really good, although I would make some modifications if I decided to make it again. I think next month I'm going to make something savory. Our next book is Angela's Ashes. I've heard of it, but it was never something I particularly wanted to read. We'll see how it is!

   I've also gotten sick of gaining weight and not being able to fit into all the lovely things in my closet that I spent good money on. I've decided on Sundays, I'm going to make a meal plan for the week, and then I'll shop and prep stuff on Mondays, which I usually have off from work. So far, I've made Italian Wedding Soup with whole wheat orzo which is one of my fave soups, and i froze 4 little containers for the next week or so. I made Cilantro-Lime Chicken the other night and OH GEEZ. I don't even really LOVE chicken, but this was OH SO GOOD. Trying to eat more veggies, snack on healthier things, and not eat out/get fast food as much. Like almost never. I'd like to maybe do one night out to a decent restaurant a month, and then other than that, just make meals in. I didn't realize how much money I was spending on food outside the kitchen until last month, and it was crazy. Not only is it not good for my body, its not good for my bank account. So no more of that.

   Looking forward to taking my trips home for Turkey Day and then to the BF's home in December. Vacations are always nice, but I think these will be much needed and really good for us. 

   Definitely going to start blogging more again (its so therapeutic!) but in the meantime, keep an eye on my twitter and youtube to see what I'm to! Big shout-out to all of you who believe in me! Love you!

xL

twitter.com/lizzpotter
youtube.com/user/lizzpotter

THIS, THAT AND THE NEXT THING

I don't even know where to start. It has certainly been a while since I last tried to put some thoughts down.

Watching a certain singing show got me to thinking. I won't name any names or anything, but I may go off right now. TAKE COVER!

First off, like I just posted on twitter..."People. Weird and different are not always synonyms for good. Talent is talent. Weird and different are just weird and different." Not that weird and different aren't good sometimes, but come ON. Just because you sound like nobody else does not NECESSARILY mean that you are talented. EMOTION, PEOPLE. Emotion is a big deal. And actually being able to sing the notes in your song helps too. Look, I get it. If you are cute, people listen and pay attention. That's great. But ya gotta be able to look beyond that. Our industry needs some POWER. And that means REAL artists who can perform well but also sing their asses off. Also, just because you can run all over town and scream does not necessarily mean you are talented. Thank you, the few people in this world who tell it like it is.

ANYWAY onto other things. BF and I moved into a new apartment in February and although its not perfect, its what we need for the time being. Meanwhile, I'm still at a job that I'm not enthralled with. Some days, it takes everything I have not to have a freak-out. I have been booking gigs and preparing for my next career move. I'm getting off my ass and starting to make things happen for myself. I made a goal list starting with my end-game and moving backwards. I'm tackling the little things, and I'll work my way up to the big things. I've got a solo gig at Lola's on Wed. April 11 (Gotta figure out my set list- depends on what I feel comfortable playing myself!!) and a gig with my friends and co-worker Paul Haasch at Genghis Cohen on April 23 (AHHHH again gotta get a set list going and touch base with my musicians!) But I'm excited because I'm going to be performing again and working towards my goals. I've been eating healthier, will be eating even more healthier and I'm establishing a firmer gym schedule. I figure getting on a better schedule, eating healthy, going to the gym and making music will make me feel better and hate my current daily grind a little less.

Okay, more later. !!

Lizz

WE GOTTA WORK IT OUT

What's up, party people?

It has been a WHILE. Sorry for the delay. Y'all know how much I like being on here! Anyway, an update. Still working at my job where I work my bum off for foreigners to leave me crap tips all day. Yay.

In other news, I have recently been given some information about possibly furthering my career, so I'm utilizing it and trying some new things. There are so many of my peers out there doing the things I WANT to be doing so I'm not going to hold back-I'm just going to do it!

Do you ever wish there were more hours in a day? I do, like, all the time. I mean, you wake up, you do the ish you gotta do and then you sleep. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Try and fit some fun things in. Make some money. Enjoy your life. Surround yourself with people you love. I am trying to save money but also trying to save sanity and therefore trying to work only 5 days a week if possible. I try to take an hour here to watch Rookie Blue (guilty pleasure, sorry) or an hour there to read Cosmo and find out about some stupid sex move that you KNOW they've printed in the last seven months' issues as well, but they move a few words around and all of a sudden missionary position just sounds SO newfangled and exciting!! Trying to make time for everything can be so exhausting. I've got a list in front of me right now and exactly none of the many cells in my body are moving to cross anything off. You ever add stuff to your list that you've already done just so you can cross it off and FEEL accomplished? It's okay, me too.

BF and I just started this ten week bootcamp Wednesday. We meet at 7:15 in a park in LA and basically don't stop moving for an hour. We do circuit training, a bunch of cardio bursts and different muscle workouts. Phew! Two days in and I'm exhausted but also feel like a creaky 80-year-old every time I try to stand. (Note to self:maybe try stretching for more than say, twenty seconds). She makes us do push-ups in the soggy ground. (BF goes to me: "You've got dirt all over you." Me:"No shit! I just spent a minute practically making love to this soggy ground!) We do a bunch of stuff, including racing each other in teams. (C'mon, just 'cuz I can still wear my high school cross country t-shirt doesn't mean I've been running marathons, people). We love us some walking lunges and did this thing yesterday called "fire quads." (We thought she said fire crotch; I was expecting something a little more interesting). Basically, you and your partner have a resistance band and one of you runs up the hill backward while the other pulls you by the resistance band. About as much fun as having a piece of chocolate cake taken away from you just as you got to take a bite. Actually, no worse. It's a good workout; better than I thought. I may or may not go to the gym after some days. We'll see. Maybe at night if I work a day shift. I would like to take the yoga and dance classes they offer, get some use out of the $50 I spend a month. I'm changing gyms in January and getting a total deal. No, I am. Because if you can't give me $30 a month or cheaper, I'll bring my slightly smaller ass somewhere else. I know working out in LA is like breathing, but jeez! We're all struggling actors/musicians/etc! Give us all a break! Also, a word to the wise:Don't join Gold's Gym unless they give you the price and amenities that you want. I pay $50, which is basically for all the classes even though they do have a bunch of equipment. No pool, no sauna, no steam room. They try and get you to buy personal training sessions while you're telling them you're paying off a credit card. They stare you down until you feel you can't leave without buying sessions. They give you all this crap about supplements when the fact of the matter is, you don't need 'em. Eat healthy and work out and you'll be good to go. You don't wanna be super jacked, right? Okay, then you don't need that shit. I WILL say that the manager at the gym I go to is super nice and is looking to rectify situations in which her employees maybe crossed a line, which is good. But apart from her and the guy that I signed up with, I think they're a bunch of a-holes looking to get you to spend all your money. So just don't.

Well, I'm going to attempt to cross a few things off my list. TTFN and Imma try to make this a regular thing! It's like therapy but cheaper.

-Lizz xoxo

FOLLOWING THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

Hey, y'all...

I know it's been a while, and it is due in part to the fact that I am a fickle friend. To real people and to this internet blog. I always say I'll call; that I'll set up a date and then oops! Six weeks later, and I'm still nowhere closer to winning that friend of the year award. So first off, to all of you that I've neglected these last few months, know that it isn't personal. I'm trying to find balance in my life among financial struggles, trying to survive and falling in love.

AAAnd while we're on the topic, let's get something straight. Some people would say it's not wise to discuss one's personal life on a supposed work-centric forum. And if I were Katy Perry, I might agree with them. But, at least for now, I'm NOT her, and there are certainly no paparazzi banging on my door for the latest scandal involving me and my lovah. Plus, for me, my music life and my personal life have always been very much intertwined, so I may as well speak on the both of them.

Without going into too much detail, my boyfriend is wonderful and I am very much enjoying spending time with him and getting to know all the little things that make him who he is. I give credit to him, partially, for getting me out of my writing slump and helping me to see that there are certainly many things to live for. I had a period of bleak uncertainty after my father passed when I questioned everything and everyone and my writing was going nowhere. Being with my boyfriend offered me a new outlook on life and happiness. Also, getting back into the gym, meeting new people at work and learning to find the positive in each negative experience has helped goad me back into happy territory. I think since I've moved to LA I've learned a lot more about myself too, and I'm learning to be a grown-up. I certainly won't win an adult-of-the-year trophy either, but I'm getting there. It's all a learning process, which leads me to...

My new song. It's about my boyfriend, a major duh! if you couldn't figure THAT one out. So far, I'm getting great feedback. (Leave some of your own! It's called "...With You" and it's on my youtube channel). This song has been in the works for about a month, usually a bit longer than it takes me to get a song that I like where I want it to be. As an artist, it can be hard figuring out whether something you've created sounds good or great, and whether it will have appeal to anyone besides you. Sometimes you feel you can't quite find the right words, or capture the right emotions (or sometimes it takes six songs to get down everything you feel). Putting your creations out there is one of the most terrifying feelings in the world, REGARDLESS of whether you're Katy Perry and everyone knows who you are and is waiting for you to fail. Getting great positive feedback on this newest creation has lifted my confidence and enabled me to fear getting back out on the scene a lot less. I'm starting to plan writing sessions into my days, and I'm trying some different approaches. Whatever way it comes out, my followers and fans can always expect consistency from me: I tell it like it is. I don't smooth over the rough, and I don't dampen the joy at all.

So to anybody paying attention, watch out. Big things are coming for me, little by little, just you wait. Let's all try and find the happiness in each day and put it forward into the world.

Love you all!

Lizz

PUTTING THE HO IN HOLIDAYS

People are either at their worst or their best during then holiday season. There's just no middle ground whatsoever. I should know; for the last couple of weeks I've been surrounded by evil stressed-out mommies, last minute shoppers and 'roided-out foreign men. For me, these people have been putting the "HO" in holidays and making them horrible for me. And as if the days leading up to Christmas weren't enough, people feel the need to abuse this ho-ey attitude up to and through New Year's. Valentine's Day DOESN'T count as a real holiday, people!! Let's be done with the overt rudeness and crappy attitudes by Dec. 31, okay?? All your resolutions should be to act nicer to the all the people in the service industry that help you out on a daily basis.

Some examples of the chaos I've been dealing with lately:

A woman is talking loudly on her cell phone in Spanish and asking me to help her out in Spanglish, all the while I can't get her attention and I can't really tell if she's talking to me or the person on the other line. She expects me to help her while she's on her phone.

A man answers to the name Nathalie, party of 4 while on the phone but once I've brought him and his girlfriend over to their table, I asked, "So, you're expecting two more?" And of course they say no. I ask, "You're not Nathalie party of 4?" And so the girlfriend rolls her eyes at the idiot guy and says, "Baby, why did you answer to Nathalie? I'm so sorry. Put the phone down!" See? If women ran the world...

It starts to get really windy outside, and of course no one wants to sit outside. I take a man, his pregnant wife, and their small daughter out to the terrace, and they say they want to sit inside. I tell them, like I've been coached, that it will be at least 15 minutes for a table inside. They sit down at a random table inside and I tell them that unfortunately we're saving that particular table, and that I need them to follow me back to the front desk. They start bitching at me, getting seriously pissed off, saying, "But we have a small daughter! I'm pregnant!" As if those are two things I wouldn't have noticed. If she'd said "But I have a small mole on my foot! I've got turberculosis!" Those may have been two things I would NOT have noticed right away. Thanks, Captain Obvious. So I tell them I'll grab a manager to explain the situation, apologizing profusely the whole time and trying very hard not to scream and wring this woman's neck. SO then I talk to my manager and he tells me it's not worth fighting with them, so I should just leave them there. So now I look like a HUGE ASSHOLE not only for arguing with a pregnant woman but also for telling them no and then my boss telling them yes.

Several ladies come in on Christmas Eve Day, and ask for 3 dozen vegan cupcakes, and are more than a little offput by the fact that it takes an additional 5 MINTUES to frost that number for them. They didn't call ahead or anything, they just came in and expected us to have that number of VEGAN cupcakes.

I seat this man and woman at a (I'll admit, rather small) table and they immediately start bitching at me that they want a booth (a commodity they did NOT ask for when they put their name in). So I tell them it may be at least 15 minutes, and that they will need to follow me back up to the front desk, because we need the table they are at for another party. So they don't really tell me what they want, but continue to sit there. They decide to just take the next booth that opens up, even though we never told them they could and they never told us that they indeed wanted to move. We have to tell them that unfortunately, they can't just take any table they damn well please. It would be a freaking mess if that's the way we ran things. Duh.

A man and a woman are led outside to a table, but they wish to sit inside. I tell them to follow me back up to the front desk so I can get them a table inside. The man decides to sit at a high top table, which are self-seating. Ten minutes later, the woman is still sitting outside, and the man is at the high top table. Both have ordered drinks and have no fucking clue that the other is at a different table. Talk about bad communication.

And I could literally go on for days and days but I don't have the physical capacity to re-live all these events. So go ahead, yuck it up, and just be glad if you haven't suffered through HALF of these experiences.

xoxo

MOM'S ROCK

Okay, so this is what I saw emblazoned across the front of a T-shirt for sale at the Children's Place today. I read it to myself, and instantly rolled my eyes. If there's one thing I do well, it is look into store windows. Actually, usually I actually go in and buy things and only have buyer's remorse later when the credit card bills come rolling in, but I digress...So yes, here it is, on a table with other shirts just like it, the "Mom's Rock" shirt. It was folded but I'm assuming there was not a graphic of a big diamond ring that this so-called "Mom" would have worn on her finger. Plus, what child is bragging about "Mom's Rock?" 5-year-olds could give a shit about color, clarity and carats. So, we are led to believe that this national children's store chain has used improper grammar on a T-shirt they sell to consumers in their stores. This is pretty un-fucking believable to me. Number one, what company doesn't get someone to edit their graphics before printing them on thousands of products? Number two, this shirt is now going into the hands of dumb adults and impressionable children, and this will lead them to incorrectly overuse the dreaded apostrophe. Some may think I'm taking this a little too seriously, but don't you think it shows the depth of how far idiocy spans here in the U.S.? We're already overspending and obese, we can't really afford to add all-around dumbass to that list. No wonder every other country despises us. Well. Enough about that, but seriously, if you are writing anything for the public eye you should watch your spelling and your grammar. If you can't spell and your shit's all over the place, even if you are the greatest writer in the world or are selling the world's greatest product, people WILL think less of you. So go back to sixth grade and pay attention this time. It's not too hard. "Mom's Rock" is referring to the rock that belongs to Mom. "Moms Rock" is telling mothers everywhere how awesome they are. See?? Two VERY VERY different meaning.

On a completely unrelated note, today one of my coworkers was talking about how he was going home for a few days but that it wouldn't really be a vacation. I asked him why, and he said, "You know, because I have to perform for my family and all." To which I replied, " Really? My family sees me at my absolute worst..." And this started me thinking. How nice is it to have a family that tells it like it is but isn't pointing out all your flaws or inability to be thrillingly successful? My family doesn't judge me, but takes me at face value: when I'm sad, when I'm angry, when I'm hurt, when I'm elated. I never have to lie to my family, or gloss over the bad parts of my life. I never feel like I have to pretend to be someone I'm not. They support me 100% in what I do, and never inquire as to why I'm still single, or why I don't weigh 125 pounds, or why my hair is usually a hotmess. They take me for me, and let me know that they love me just the way I am. Everyone should have such a family that knows and has known so much love that they always feel at home when they are with each other. My father always instilled in us the fact that it was important to be kind to and love your siblings. I'm SO glad that this was such an important thing for him to share with us, because look at us now! I live 3000 plus miles away but I keep in touch with my family on a very consistent basis. I love them all so so much and I am so happy to have them all in my life.

So I leave you with this. This holiday season, tell your family and friends and all the people you love just how much they mean to you. They may know it, but sometimes saying it out loud can reaffirm the feeling for someone when they really need it. We only get one go 'round at this thing called life, so we might as well surround ourselves with wonderful people who make US better people. Live long, and prosper!! And love with all your little hearts.

Happy Holidays and talk to you all in the New Year!!

xoxo

Lizz

REALLY??!!!

So, a man walks into a cupcake shop with no intention of buying anything. He asks the cashier in barely understable, mumbled English, "How much?" and the girl proceeds to tell him the prices of the various items. He launches into some diatribe about how having the prices listed on a framed piece of paper above the treats may not be the best option, as some people may be shy and won't ask what things are if they don't know, and if they don't know the price then maybe they won't buy. The girl said to him, "Well, I know all the prices, sir, so if you have a specific question I will be happy to help you out." The man asked a series of questions while looking at the cashier but appearing to be having a conversation with himself. The girl answered the questions like a well-trained Miss America contestant: she took what she thought she heard, mixed with frequently asked questions, and answered with a cheery smile. Then the man left without buying anything, off to terrorize the next shop on the block. The girl sat down with a dramatic eye roll and sigh, and resumed putting together boxes.

Let's just say a little poetic license was used in this story, but that the actual events did happen. To me. This is just a small sample of the shit I have to deal with on a daily basis. It's getting to the point where it doesn't even phase me anymore, because it is simply material for a book I'm writing on what NOT to do. I mean, it is really surprising to me that with all the heinous, ignorant, rude idiots in the world that I've managed (for the most part) to surround myself with some of the most lovely, understanding, intelligent and talented people. Thank goodness, because if I only had dipshits to tell me what to do, I too would be a dipshit. This is why any of the friends I ever had that were dipshits in disguise are no longer my friends and also no longer in disguise: they are full-blown, no questions asked fucking idiots.

So, all you lovely people, let's take a minute to celebrate all the things that make us wonderful. I may not be perfect, but I would NEVER walk IN FRONT of a hostess trying to seat me at a table. I would never steal someone's parking spot. I would never be so ignorant as to think I knew everything about something. I would never push around a stroller the size of a small car through a crowded lobby. (Seriously?? Just leave your kids at home with a babysitter. They will appreciate Kraft mac and cheese just as much as (or maybe more than) anything you could buy them in a restaurant. Plus, it will cost you so much less, you can afford to go get ice cream or catch a movie after.) I would NEVER hear someone call Faisal party of 6 and follow a hostess to a table if my name was Joseph and I had a party of 3.

Okay, enough. The first job of the day is coming to close and it is time for my daily nap in my car. I'll talk later, and hopefully you all will go out in search of non-dipshits worldwide.

I JUST MADE YOU SAY UNDERWEAR...

First of all, something funky happened with my computer the other night (like, last week) and this post was never published. Enjoy!!

So I put my underwear on inside out this morning as I was rushing to get dressed and leave the house WAY after I intended. It would be okay if it were the first time this has happened, but, unfortunately I can't say that. It has happened on several other occasions, and I'm not really sure how I do it in the first place! (And, I should mention, I didn't even notice it until about my third time in the restroom today...) It's not as if my vagina really gives a shit about which way my panties lie, but I sure do. I felt like such an idot* today when I looked down and realized why they weren't 100% comfortable when I had put them on earlier. Um, duh!!

...But you have to give me points for at least WEARING underwear in the first place, right? I mean, I could have forgotten like that time in kindergarten when I was still VERY shy, and I didn't notice until I got to school that oops! I didn't have any underwear on... And of course my Dad had to get to the hospital and my mom was working, and oh the horror; I, of course, was wearing a dress. Everyone was asking, "Elizabeth, what's wrong?", Since I recall standing very still in one place and I'm sure I nervously looked around and had cheeks the color of September Red Delicious apples (especially since I'm KNOWN to get WICKED BAD hives when I'm nervous). Anyway, my mom came to save me and of course my teacher asked, "Why didn't you say anything?", I wasn't really sure THEY should be teaching or monitoring ANYTHING, let alone impressionable, human children, since COME ON! MATTERS DEALING WITH UNDERWEAR OR THE LACK THEREOF ARE VERY PERSONAL!!

And that is why I am sharing these stories here, with you.

Long stor(ies) not so short, underwear holds a very special place in my heart. I don't know that I've ever gone commando in my life (NO thank you, dreaded jeans against vag chafing--I already have enough thigh to thigh chafing as it is thanks to my healthy appetite and as-of-late-not-so-hearty workout routines), but I know some that do. I happen to actually really enjoy underwear, and previous years' credit card statements will echo this sentiment. I love lace, frills, colors, matching, comfortable and made-for-show. It doesn't matter if I'm the only one who sees it; I love putting on something pretty underneath my clothes. It just adds to the package that I see, and helps me feel sexy. It goes along with doing my hair and makeup; if I FEEL good, then I am much more confident and I am more poised, and I enjoy myself more. Who would have thought underwear would have had such a profound impact on my life??

This post wasn't meant to be all about unmentionables, but I couldn't help but run my mouth about all the pantilicious things that came to mind when I saw my silly mistake today. On another note, I got a legitimate bed and a computer desk from a friend who was heading out of town and back home-for $100, which I figured was awesome since #1, no more sleeping on the air mattress, #2 he helped me move it and #3 it cost me approximately $900 less than BUYING a new bed would have. And although I may still invest in a canopy bed frame somewhere down the line (let's face it, I am and always will be a princess), I'm much more content for the time being and I consider the $100 money well spent. And I think I will sleep much better. And I need to what with going from job to job and being out of the house from 9:30 AM to 10:30 PM!! But seriously, I am getting to love my new coworkers at both jobs and a little espresso in the AM helps me get through the day without crying and I never have "that 2:30 feeling." If anything, it's a 7:30 feeling. AND of course I love that I'm making money. I set myself up a budget that I truly feel I can stick to, plus it has a little wiggle room each month. It also allows me to pay my mom back for the blue car, put a decent sum of money in a long-term and short-term savings account, AND have a little sum to put in a "ladies' nice things" account for a rainy day purchase of, say, leopard print shooties or something equally as fun and unnecessary.

I am finishing up my dinner of raspberries, as I found I wasn't even really hungry for a full dinner. I have a little Keith Jarrett/Charlie Haden playing in the background, and I may just light a few candles and read a few chapters of this Jennifer Weiner book I took out from the library.

*idot= a word that was created when my sister and I were passing angry notes to each other and her idiot morphed into idot. Thus, idot has become a nicer way of calling someone an idiot, not unlike the gaming term, "n00b."

I SWEAR, I WILL TASE YOU...!!!!

First off, let me say that I could SO cut a bitch right now. I'm trying very hard to calm down, but it seems like today just ISN'T my day. (Also, as a side note, is TASE a verb, or do you say TASER, as in "She tasered me..." or she tased me?")

These are the events of the day. I got in bed fairly early last night and finished "Eat, Pray, Love" which I found to be a great read and an intriguing story. I shut off my light after a little solitaire action on my iPod and I proceeded to fall into a deep luxurious slumber...and then...

DUMDINGDADUMBABADABADUMWHNISDFHN:SDGIHSD;GOIHSGLOIDFGB;FLGIJN;DFGLJN;KGBIJDSG;K

...And I though I was having a nightmare. But no, it was coming from the floor below me. It was as if someone had decided to play friggin' Guns and Roses at 2:45 AM INTO my cochlea. If music could be administered intravenously, this was what it would feel like. But in a bad way. I tried to ignore it, but, alas, I could not. I got pissed when I looked at the clock and saw I only had 3 more hours to sleep until I had to get up and get ready for training at 8 at one of my newly acquired jobs. I went outside and determined that it was, in fact, coming from the floor below me, and interestingly enough, you could hardly hear it from outside. Yet, in my room, it was like a personal concert. So I thought about banging on the door but between the ear crackling noise and knock-proof grate screen door, I was pretty much out of luck. So I begrudgingly got up at 6:30 (after cursing at my cell phone and at my unknown neighbor/evil villain) and showered and got ready. Oh, but you bet your ass that while I wolfed down my cereal I composed a note both forceful and kind and taped it to my neighbor's door. It went something along the lines of this (what can I say, I have a way with words...)

To whom it may concern,

I was awoken early this morning around 3 AM to the sounds of extremely loud hard rock music coming from your apartment. I attempted to use ear plugs and move into a different room, but the music was so loud that I couldn't sleep. Is there any way that, in the future you could refrain from playing loud music at night and keep these habits to the daylight and waking hours? I understand wanting to absorb as much music as possible, whenever you can, as I am both a musician and a music lover myself. However, I think it is a little inconsiderate to play music so loud and so early. Thanks so much, I appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Your tired upstairs neighbor

I was really very nice about the whole thing, I think. So you BET if this happens again I WILL bang on the door and file a noise complaint with both the POPO and the landlord. Because it's just not cool. I'm sure they wouldn't like it if I started blasting Justin Bieber at 3 AM. Actually....that's not a bad way to get back at them if this happens again. I feel like Justin Bieber is a weapon to be used sparingly because it can have great power. And that power can have grave consequences if it falls into the wrong hands (Evil cackle).

Anyhow, so I get up and go to this job and they tell me that I was scheduled for 5 PM which was ENTIRELY inaccurate as I LITERALLY copied down 8-2 as the STORE MANAGER told me when to come in Monday. So there were 4 of us training, and somehow 2 of the people got to come in at 8:30 and the rest of them ALL got to leave an hour before me...WTF??? SERIOUSLY, UNIVERSE? If I hadn't HATED the training and the way I was being spoken to/treated MAYBE staying an extra hour wouldn't have been so bad. But it was. At the end of the day, I decided that if I'm GOING to have a third retail job at a clothing store, it's going to be at Express since I like the company, know the product and I'm great at the job. So I leave, and have to pay $14 for parking. Woo frickin' hoo. Of course then I have to get gas, and I'm watching the money drain from my accounts.

So I get home, and know I have a few hours to do laundry before I go see my friend Althea perform at the Viper Room. Oh, so I take all my stuff down to the laundry room but forget my sheets. So I grab them. I shove all my darks in the washing machine and put in detergent and put in my quarters and GUESS WHHAT? YUP. THE WASHING MACHINE ISN'T WORKING. AND YOU BET YOUR ASS I PRIED MY QUARTERS OUT OF THERE BECAUSE I'M TOO BROKE TO WASTE A DOLLAR.

So by then I'm beyond pissed. When I get angry like that, angry enough to punch the next person who even so much as LOOKS at me, it is better to just sympathize with me and hate the world together than try to rationalize everything because then I will just want to punch YOU in the face. So I decided to find a laundromat nearby after little help, and realized that was all fine and good but that I wouldn't have any reading material and I'd be BORED. So what's happening is I'm going to the library before the show, the show and then the laundromat because the show is at 8 and the laundromat closes at 11.

I got all dolled up, because usually lots of makeup and a cute outfit make me feel a LITTLE better. And I can't really say that it's working, but I'm going to take a few deep breaths and maybe do some sun salutations. Did I mention I spilled black eyeshadow ALL over my floor while trying to do my makeup? Let's see if I can make it through the rest of the night SANS another mini catastrophe. Oh me oh my. Alright, I'm going to get going.

Hopefully tomorrow will bring a less stressful, more enjoyable day!!!

GAH!!

P.S. I forgot to add that the strap to my laundry bag broke as I was carrying it back up to my apartment. And, on the way to the show it took me 40 minutes to find street parking that wasn't 2 miles away.

BUT... Althea sang beautifully and the show was great. AND Elissa treated me and Eric to pizza afterwards which was basically the best ending to an awful day. And now I am having a single serve ice cream, and then literally going to bed after I wash this garish makeup off. Tomorrow AM, I'm driving to the laundromat early and while my laundry is going, I'm going to run. Then, I'm going to go home and shower, stop by the library and go to work! Tomorrow is going to be stellar.

WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA

Did you know that there legitimately IS a Hotel California here in LA? It is actually in Santa Monica; I drove by it the other day after my interview at this new French Bistro where I'm hoping that I will be working by Monday (please, please, PLEASE call tomorrow and tell me I got the job....I NEED to start making $$ hardcore!)

Right now I am eating dinner at 11:00 PM, even though I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach due to earlier Kit Kat bingeing. (At this point, I think if I even LOOK at a Kit Kat wrapper, I'll be praying to the porcelain god in no time). However, my sandwich is providing me with various nutrients that I didn't quite get with the chocolate and wafers earlier. I've taken several naps today, due to the fact that I (no lie) was up tossing and turning last night because I could NOT for the life of me quiet my mind. I was thinking about getting a job and possible cat names for cats that I don't even know if I will adopt. REALLY, LIZZ?? Do you think Anastacia and Princess Pignatelli are dumb cat names? I mean, yeah, they're a little dumb but I also think they are kinda cute. I wanted to go with Mary, Queen of Scots or something for one of the cats, but I feel like if I named a cat that I would have to deal with the fact that the cat would hate me as if it were a human and its name was Ijus Peed Myself or something along those lines. Or Steven Stevenson.

Regardless, I have been told that if I DO decide to adopt kittens, I will not only become a crazy cat lady but that I won't get a man because I'll just stay at home with the cats all the time and not want to meet any actual people. I don't know what I think about this. Part of me wants to say it isn't true, but maybe part of me IS really lonely, and I certainly don't want to limit my chances of finding great friends and relationships because hanging out with my cats is easier.

I hung out with two Berklee friends today at the La Brea Tar Pits....it is so weird. The tar literally bubbles up from under the Earth and archaeologists find tons of prehistoric fossils in them!! How cool?! My friends were joking with me about how they thought I was a lesbian since I didn't date very much in college. They were just kidding, but here's the thing: Yes, okay, duh I haven't dated that much in my short life so far. It's not that I'm not open to it, because of course I am. However, I've dated a mix of guys in the past, or TRIED to date a mix of guys in the past, and it is either one thing or another: I'm not really that attracted to them (Come ON, we've all had desperate moments every now and then), they are still in love with someone else, they are unavailable(emotionally or otherwise), they run away screaming in the other direction (still can't figure this one out and it bothers me) etc etc etc. Now I'm proud to say that for the first time in my life, since about six or so months ago, I'm okay being alone. I don't NEED to be chasing someone to feel okay about myself or feel that I have a purpose. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE to have someone to crush on, but I'm finally actually okay being single. I don't think there's something wrong with me anymore because I've never had a legitimate boyfriend. The right person just hasn't come along. I've got high standards, sure, but I'm also very easy to please. In no way am I a diva or a golddigger. Sure, I'm a little high maintenance, but I can also be very low maintenance and at least I REALIZE that I'm not perfect, okay?? Sometimes I think I just see myself in this wholly unflattering light where I think no one could possibly love me between the fact that I have baggage and that I'm not the perfect supermodel specimen.

I have to start reminding myself that it is okay not to be perfect, and that I am very desirable despite my flaws, or maybe even BECAUSE of them. I've learned grace in times of tragedy and loss. I am TRYING to keep healthy despite not being able to afford a gym membership at this juncture and bingeing on Kit Kat bars (Seriously I don't know if I'll be eating chocolate for a while). Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I'm surprised at the girl I see there. She looks intelligent, attractive, poised, content and charming and I'm not always sure who she is and she got there. Why is it that we can take compliments from others but when we tell ourselves how wonderful we are we never listen?? I'm starting a new period of self-realization and strong self-worth. Fist pump, ladies, here's our new mantra... "I AM STRONG. I AM BEAUTIFUL. I AM INTELLIGENT. I HAVE THE POWER IN MY HANDS. NO ONE CAN MAKE ME FEEL INFERIOR WITHOUT MY CONSENT."

And that is our lesson for today. The letter was "S" for self-confidence and the number was 1, because let's face it, we all should be #1 in our own eyes.

AND SO IT GOES...

Being a perfectionist has never been easy. You know how they say, "Don't sweat the small stuff?" I've always sweated the small stuff so hard that if I WERE actually sweating, I would liken the perspiration to that which comes from a Bikram Yoga class, or sitting on a camel in the desert in 115+ degree heat. The good thing, though, is that as much as I believe in the quest for perfection, or rather, ultimate happiness, I also believe in perseverance, a word that I learned how to spell and define in third grade.

This is my process, and, you know, all artists have a process. I go after what I want, shyly at first, taking care not to step on any toes in the way. Then I get burned, even if ever so slightly. I cry a little, have a bitty "woe is me" pity party and then I 'pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again...' The next cycle of the process I attack what I want with increased ferocity, etc etc until I either get what I want or exhaust all possibilities trying. If I don't get what I want after all that I will usually need a grieving period to go through my stages which include listening to angry, bass-booming songs that give me enough adrenaline to be the next Million Dollar Baby, eating pizza and ice cream and crying a lot. And writing some songs. Okay, maybe "some" is an understatement. But regardless, I am usually able to revert back to my normal self after this process. I've done it with boys, jobs, opportunities, broken friendships and deaths. The whole death thing is the worst because it creeps up on you when you least expect it and, at least in my case, hits you hard for unexpected periods of time and you can't do crap except feel all the feelings and come to terms with your current situation.

What I'm trying to say is two things, I guess. Number one, even though my ballsy move-across-the-country life change is going a little differently than I had envisioned, I KNOW that SOMEHOW I will be okay. I'll find a more permanent living situation, a job that pays, and I will get to work on my craft, however it may transpire. Number two, dealing with my father's death is THE HARDEST thing I've ever done (and I imagine the hardest thing I'll ever have to do) and it has me feeling like a scarred, wounded, broken soul. I ask myself, as I lie in bed, deliciously spent and ready for sleep yet kept awake by thoughts of my father and how his death has affected every aspect of my life, will I ever be okay? I can't imagine someone wanting to love someone who will never be completely whole again. All I have to give is everything I have, but everything I have isn't what I had a year ago. (How's THAT for a tongue twister?)

Sometimes, I try to con my mind into believing that what I know to be the truth is a lie. I sit in the shower, eyes shut, telling myself that I'm somewhere else, and that my father is still alive. I know better, though, because even if I give in to my temporary illusion, the reality isn't far behind. I think often about how my life has changed since January and how few true friends I have left after the aftershock of my father's death among other things. I try to continue living my life as close to the same as possible, keeping my father's spirit in mind with the choices I make. I was JUST able this week to remove the picture of my mom, dad, brother and sister from my profile on facebook and replace it with me and a few friends. I still have his number in my phone, and even though the number is disconnected, I still can't bring myself to delete it. Whenever I watch Grey's Anatomy I always end up crying because somehow Patrick Dempsey reminds me of my dad and my heart wrenches a little bit whenever I see him on screen. This isn't meant to make anyone feel bad, or make anyone's heart hurt anymore. These are just words I needed to get out, good or bad.

There are a lot of things I am unsure of. For instance, why do I get an abundance of new pimples when I am trying out my low-maintenance/no-makeup phase? Is this a cruel joke? Why do I always seem to have an increased admiration for SNL's Jason Sudeikis when I'm not crushing on anyone? (Actually, I know that answer. It's because A) I am a creepy stalker and B) because I need SOMEONE to set my sights on, ya know?) Why do I leave New England for LA and EVERY DAY is overcast and rainy so far? Why did the real Matthew McConaughey and Ashton Kutcher just add me as a friend on Myspace (SO random, I know)? Why does it take me FOREVER to become motivated enough to get up and exercise in the morning when I KNOW it is good for me and it feels SO GOOD when I'm doing it?

Like I said, silly or not, there are many things which I am unsure of. My father's death and the events and circumstances surrounding it, of course. I questions many of my choices every day, but I'm just glad to know that at the end of the day, even though my emotions might get the better of me, I am comfortable with who I am. My moral compass is pointed in (mostly) the right direction, and I never worry that I'm going to end up blackout drunk in a ditch somewhere with some guy's name tattooed on my ass. Well, let's hope not, anyway.

Long story short, I have faith in myself. If I want something bad enough, I will make it happen. It may not be the way YOU would do it, and it might make you CRAZY that I do what I do the way I do it, but that's why it's me doing it and not you. I'm going to find an apartment, and a job, and I'm going to get my music thang up and running. To everyone that is looking out for me, thank you for all your support! I so appreciate it even though I might not tell you all the time.

By the way, a rap about Karen is still on the way...I just want to wait until I get my keyboard out again so the juices will start flowing! And believe me....it will be stellar.

OKAY, SO WHERE WERE WE...?

So the last time we checked in I believe we were at the end of our day in Denver, CO. Exhausted from driving and shopping and Karen's constant sluttiness, we fell asleep early and slept well. We woke up at 4:15 on Saturday morning to begin our drive into Vegas, baby!! We knew it would be a long day but we made pretty decent time. Here are some highlights...

Heather was a crazypants head case at the beginning of the drive as we were driving at a high elevation at a steep grade in the pitch black between mountains in Colorado that morning. We drove through Vail, Aspen, and various other cities. It was crazy how cold it was in Colorado when we stopped for gas and coffee-I almost wished I had brought a winter jacket!! I'm sure I looked a hot mess that day anyway since my outfit consisted of a pink bandana headband, jeans, zipper-flower tank, black cardigan and Heather's green army-style jacket. I drove the second leg, which brought us through Utah-which, actually, was a beautiful state. Miles and miles and miles of the same surroundings in a car would drive anyone crazy, but the view was beautiful. There was such a stretch of no real towns that we sort of just drove at whatever speed we wanted however we wanted...I don't think my car enjoyed driving 85/90...but I sure did! No police officer in his/her right mind would EVER sit out there waiting for someone to speed...it could be DAYS before anyone came through!! For sure, the best part of Utah was the town called Beaver. Yes, Beaver, Utah, which the sign proclaimed was "MOUNTAINS OF FUN," and had "THE BEST TASTING WATER IN THE U.S.," and had "I LOVE BEAVER" T-shirts in the gift shop. I was actually surprised that Heather was the ONLY one doubled over laughing on the ground when she saw that. I guess Utahans love Beaver so much that not only do they have a town in honor of it, but there is a separate county as well. So much Beaver and so little time.

After leaving Beaver, we were hoping for an Ass, Utah, but alas that was not the case. We had stopped at a Subway for a quick lunch and, unfortunately, we all ended up with intense SHEETZ. Kristi said she noticed the kid who was making our sandwiches had wet hair at the nape of his neck an she told herself he was freshly showered. She said, "It's bad enough he was a ginger!!" I said they were probably checking him anally with a thermometer every hour because his fever had to have been about 104. Regardless, those sandwiches did NOT sit well and of course I had to be a glutton and order a footlong when a simple 6" would have sufficed. Instead, we had stomach daggers for a few hours while the bad sandwiches passed. Needless to say we will NOT be ordering 6"ers or footlongs for a VERY LONG TIME. At least not the sandwich kind.

We passed Salt Lake City and some other towns before crossing into Arizona for about fifteen minutes before entering Nevada! Arizona appeared to look a lot like Utah but was very picturesque as well. We finally got to Vegas around 5:30 PM, and went to go meet my aunt and cousins to say hi and get a key for my other aunt's place we were staying at. We rested for a bit, did some much needed laundry and took showers before having a FANTASTIC dinner at Bouchon in the Venetian, courtesy of Minder. It was SO GOOD. They literally treated us like kings; bringing over WICKED GOOD champagne and SHOTS OF TEQUILA. Kristi made me drink hers. Oh my. We had garnet yam puree soup which was the best soup any of us had ever had. They brought over a Bibb salad, a beet salad, a calamari salad and a beef carpaccio appetizer. There were steaks, fish, and chicken for dinner and I LITERALLY took three bites of my steak and it was awesome but I was so stuffed to the gills I couldn't handle it. And as much as we wanted to, none of us could order any dessert.

We then met up with some of Minder's friends who had gotten us a table at the night club Tao at the Venetian. Let's just put some stuff on the table here. Normally, at Tao, you have to wait in line before they let you in. Then, if you want a table, you have to have reserved it, and get this: a table means you pay for a bottle (of booze) which is $425. Yes, you heard me. A normal bottle of something like Ketel One might retail for between 30 and 50 bucks and these crazypants people pay over $400. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM??? Especially since the club is cool, don't get me wrong, but no normal person should have to pay $425 to get laid. It's just wrong. But they do it! And they do it with a smile on their faces! More than once a week! If I were going to spend $425 on something foolish, it would have to have a red bottom and be sold at Barney's in the shoe department. If I want to get drunk and sleep with a loser, I can just hit up a liquor store and stand on a street corner. There was so much beaver we saw that Kristi decided instead of "The City of Sin," Vegas should be "The City Where Beaver Is Boss." I kinda have to agree. Some 50-year-old lady in the bathroom was wearing a dress so short that when she raised her arms around her head to proclaim that she wasn't wearing any panties because she peed on them, her beaver was out for the world to see. There were beavers being grabbed all over the club, and beavers coming out of their dams because I guess wearing underwear is simply a suggestion, not an obligation. One of Minder's friends left me with this random guy because she wanted him to buy us (her) drinks but then didn't want to stay and talk to him, and some random guy came over and was talking to me. Oh, and quite possibly the best part? Some guy asked Kristi whether she wanted him to sneeze in her mouth. I mean, of all the weird fetishes to have....REALLY?!?!? The highlight of the night was surely Bouchon, and I DID win $30 at a stupid slot machine. Put in $20, won $50. I play the idiot games because there's no thinking involved and it's an easy win and an easy loss. Plus, it's a workout for my fingers to press the buttons.

We got home at 3:00 AM. My aunt was SUCH a trooper, as were Heather and Kristi. I'M not even out til 3:00 hardly EVER. I am SUCH a homebody. I can't do the club scene that often- it just exhausts me and usually makes me feel like shit because I'm just not one of those girls who likes to rub herself all over someone just to get my rocks off. Thanks, but I'd rather just dance. We got between 3 and 5 hours of sleep before we got up at 8 to leave for LA. We had heard that traffic between the two cities was sometimes brutal on Sundays, especially on holiday weekends, so we wanted to get a head start. It took us only about 4.5 hours to get there, and we spent some extra time driving Pacific Coast Highway from Santa Monica until we got to Kristi's sister's house in Westlake Village. Traffic wasn't too bad, actually, and we hung out by the pool for a little bit because we were SO OVER driving and ready for some R&R. We took naps, and later Heather and I got BBQ at Baby Blues BBQ in Hollywood but not before Karen took us down an alley to get to our destination and we saw a dead/passed out man in the street in front of a truck. Lovely. And, as we were walking to dinner, a black man called out to me, calling me a Jewish American Princess and (I'm sure) talking about my bootyliciousness. Heather of course freaked out, but I had to explain to her that in Boston, that sort of thing was a weekly occurence. I can't help it that I've got junk in my trunk! Or maybe I can...but at least for right now this ass isn't getting any smaller...

Heather didn't feel well so we took our food to go. It was actually good BBQ but we weren't very impressed with the cornbread. I slept a full eight hours and let me tell you, it felt SO GOOD. Today, we went to see the stars on the sidewalk by the Chinese Theatre and we walked around Venice Beach. We came back and Kristi and Heather re-concocted a few previous supper club recipes including the corn with the feta cheese which I LOVED the first time and it was really good this time too. They have to be at the airport early tomorrow and I'm driving, so I'm going to try and get a good night's sleep again tonight to be well rested for some apartment hunting tomorrow! I'm going to keep the blog going about my trials and tribulations here in LA past the road trip, so be sure to check back now and then to keep up with what's going on with me! Thanks for reading!