First thing on my list, lose some weight and stop looking like I am from Indiana. I mean I love my home state, but expectations go up just a little the closer I get to the Big Apple. This afternoon, I savored my last morsel of Indiana indulgence (good cookbook name, yea?), frying up some leftover roast beef for a mock Philly Cheesesteak with pepper jack cheese, rye bread, and green onions. Guiltily, I even heated up a piece of fat and ate whole damn thing: soft, salty, and beefy, melting in my mouth. And that was a lite meal. Let's just consider mashed potatoes for a moment. I could eat them for hours. But then, what am I putting into my mouth? Carbs and fat. White potatoes smashed up with cream, salt, pepper, and butter (why planes don't serve this delicious side dish still escapes me). Nothing green, no skins, no protein, no fiber, just flabby thighs. I wonder if you can add whey protein powder to mashed potatoes. Or at least fiber powder. I bet you there is some sick fuck out there who has! I just started reading The Help and like a chameleon, I will probably be writing and talking like a big Black lady for the next week. If I start going to meetin', cooking collards, or complaining about my big feet hurting, someone please feel free to smack me and tell me to take a good long look in the mirror. On second thought, please do that regardless of the circumstance. For some odd reason, I have the tricky habit of mimicking whatever I am reading or watching at the time. Having just finished Kathy Griffin's memoir before dinner last night, I held court like a pro and swore more than the rest of the Wantzs did the entire year. Sorry mother, but after a shot and a margarita, the guns are out. Don't worry, I would never fire them at you. Oh yes, back to this weight I am going to lose. As much as I'd like to imagine a six pack earned from sugar-free Redbull and Parliaments, I think I am going to have to buckle down and do it the old fashioned way through diet and exercise. Chinese takeout, you won't be hearing from me, Falafel truck I am running from you as far as my chubby tummy will allow me. And these are just the beginning of my ever growing list of splurges. Just don't take my vodka. Not yet.
Second, I am going to write in this fucking blog so help me God! Even if all that comes to mind is my grocery list or a scramble of Katy Perry/Ke$ha lyrics, I will publish something. Now looking at the coming weeks, my unlimited month of tanning is over, so I will have a little more time for typing instead of baking. I like writing. It's good for me, it helps me feel not so crazy, or at least my certain brand of craziness is fairly harmless and marginally humorous (how the fuck do you spell humorous, damn it!). If you haven't noticed, I am in the airport/on a plane, which means I am drinking, not too much, just enough to keep myself from panicking or crying. Keep those emotions nice and cool with a crisp vodka soda. And during the holidays, make it a double, you deserve it!
Thirdly, (who's still counting anyways?) I am done being depressed. Done. Done sitting in my room alone, done feeling sorry for myself, being bitter (well . . .), alienating myself from my friends, going on Benders, and giving myself excuses for being lazy or lacking ambition. According to Facebook, my sister's last thoughts were "Lovin' Life," and you know what, as she was sliding down that snowy hill I bet she was. Unafraid, balls out. That was my sister. So, it's time to take a page out of her too-short book and get off my butt and get over myself. Easier said than done, but done it will be. While I certainly could have chosen an easier career path, sleeping in instead of going to auditions doesn't help. Having a bad attitude on set doesn't help. Being afraid doesn't help. So, here goes. Round Two. I just hope I don't have to do a play with a rat number in it again. And that I can pay my rent. Paying rent is a very good thing. As I look into 2011 and my future in general, I don't know what it will look like exactly. But I hope it will see me happier and healthier. I hope it will see me in love, or patient enough to wait. Putting myself out there, being brave, falling down and getting myself right up. In the next few months I am looking to find better employment and housing, to gain some financial security and grow my roots down deeper into New York's soil. Oh, and I just learned while I was home that I might be going back on my dad's insurance. Score! I will be sure to share the details of that first physical as soon as they are at my disposal. All in all, I am feeling good, conscious of the immense work ahead of me, but ready to get my hands dirty. I count myself very fortunate that I got to go home for this extended vacation. Home always centers me, reminds me of where I've been, and where I come from. Surrounded by the safety of 400 South, I am able to come out of my shell, lower the well-built New York walls, and tap into myself once more. Plus, the drinks and smokes are a lot cheaper in Indiana. This is a very good thing. So, like this plane, I am a bit up in the air at the moment, but ready to land and continue the journey laid out before me.
Currently Reading: The Help, Official Book Club Selection, The Swimming Pool
Currently Listening to: "Upside Down" Diana Ross (don't ask), Court Yard Hounds (that's the Dixie Chicks minus big mouthed Natalie - well like her or not you can't deny she has a big one!)
Currently Watching: True Grit, Mother and Child, Little Fockers, The A-List New York (guilty pleasure/guilty dreams)