"When I get money, I'll get funny again"

I'll return to one of my original themes of this blog: my debt. These last few months have been especially difficult for me financially. Like, retired dad bailout bad. Of course, I'm not alone, with the country being in a recession and all, but having company in my misery doesn't really make me want to do a jig. Financial life sucks for pretty much everyone. I get it. This is just what I have to say about it.

I've been writing down everything I spend like a crazy person for months. Months. I have an Excel spreadsheet where I record all of it from a coffee at Starbucks to my student loan payments. Its truly exhausting to keep such an extensive record of my cash flow. I come home each night with my receipts and type away in those little judgmental cells, until I see what a douche I was and curse myself for allowing myself a $5 footlong from Subway that was actually my lunch and dinner. I tend to send myself into a tailspin when I forget to add in the 75 cents I spent on peanut M&Ms from the office vending machine. And then, suddenly, I'm $20 short for my cable bill and I feel like a complete failure as an adult.

Could I move to a less expensive city and get a job and live happily ever after? Probably. I often wonder why I'm still here when in a more normal place (read: median rent for a one-bedroom apartment less than $2K a month) I could be on my way to owning something. People I know are buying houses. My stepbrother, four years my junior, is house-hunting.

Yesterday my father asked me about the will I was supposed to have made out months ago. I asked him if he thought he should get my laptop, my Oscar de la Renta coat, my book collection or my unfinished novel. Because, sadly, I have nothing else. ("I'll take the novel," he joked.) If I had to moved to, say, Philadelphia, a five years ago instead of the if-I-can-make-it-here... capital of the world, I'd probably at least be able to will my dad a car or something. But I live in (and, unfortunately, still kind of love) New York. And, the city is only partially responsible for my debt problem. A love of eating out (why would I try to cook my own pad thai when someone who knows something about it can?) and an obsession with beauty products did play a small part, too. Having said that pad thai and lipstick are more expensive here than most other places, so, really, F you, New York. City that I love to hate, but won't leave.

The stress of living on a to-the-dollar budget has manifested itself in the form of near-constant pain in my left shoulder. I wish the government was giving bailouts that included free massages.

OMG! It's Xanderrrr!

OMG, I'm in love. Nicholas Brendon has an AUDIOBLOG! I'll be taking bets on how many hours I can waste...

It's (really) the economy, stupid!

I hate banks, creditors, George W. Bush, the Treasury Department... F them all.

Because I still believe in love

Like so many others, I personally think that it is tragic that Prop 8 was passed in California. And that Arizona has passed a constitutional ban on gay couples adopting children. And still after such a momentous Election Day, it amazes me that Americans vote to keep rights away from other Americans. It makes me sad and angry.

It's not about what people do in their bedroom. It's about love, compassion, respect and commitment. Things that everyone deserves to have in their lives. But take a good look at the message that we're sending -- that not all love is important. That, because two people are of the same sex, they should not fall in love with one another and make a commitment to exist together. Or, what's more painful to me personally, is that two people in a committed relationship cannot adopt a child together because they are of the same sex. A child that otherwise may not have a chance at a family's love. By denying some love, we're actually denying it all.

Everyone wants to be loved. Humans are biologically programmed to crave other people. Connection is crucial to survival. No one is meant to be alone.

A Brand New Day (Several Days Late)

I cried like a little girl when the state of Pennsylvania was called for Obama. And then teared up again when the Democrats surpassed 51 Senate seats. And then really lost any composure that remained when the final projections were in and CNN announced to me and a room packed with Obama supporters that he was to be our next president.


I watched us make history on the big screen.


As many others have said in the days since, I think that by electing Obama, Americans were rejecting fear. Fear of things that have plagued the country since September 2001 -- fear of terrorism, fear of an economy that has shattered beneath us, fear of the unknown. In a time when there is so much to want to hide from, we didn't make the same choices out of fear of change. We started on the path to real change.

I grew up in a family that was, and still is, split politically. My father, a veteran of three wars, is a staunch Republican. My mother, a teacher for more than 25 years, is a passive Democrat. But it was my father that first sparked my interest in politics. He cared about local elections as well as national. He regarded his representation highly, and remains in regular touch with several of his local politicians. He subscribes to the theory that if you don't vote, your right to complain about the outcome is diminished.

As someone who has always been interested in politics, it was remarkable to see so many people -- members of my family, friends, coworkers -- take an active interest in this presidential election. It's a renewed interest for the country that I hope doesn't end before November comes to a close. It's crucial that people remain interested, inspired and ready to embrace change over the next four (and heaven willing, 8) years. I'm incredibly proud that we've taken the first step, but now the work really begins.

As I watched the Democratic Senate seats climb on Tuesday night (I was maybe one of four people who was), I shouted another thing that we could accomplish with each seat secured. Green energy and energy independence. Healthcare for those who need it (mine and so many other uteruses are cheering!). Better education for those that want it. Things I really care about can happen.

Uterus? Check. Now, who to vote for?

Just in case anyone with a uterus was still on the fence about who to cast their vote for on Tuesday, please read this. It's right in line with McCain's "concerns" about "women's health" he raised at the final debate.

Now get your uteruses (uteri?) out there and vote.

Zydrate comes in a little glass vial...

Once a year, I actually get to work on something cool.



Check it out in select theatres on November 7th. Cool music, Giles and Joan Jett all in one movie!

And I Don't Think I'll Ever Sleep Again 'til Morning

One of the biggest problems with a major relationship change -- i.e. a gigantic break-up -- is the sleeping thing. You sleep next to someone for a long time and then you don't. And not just like you went on a short trip and then you're going to come back to your old life. You don't sleep next to that person anymore. Ever. That's weird. And about a hundred other descriptive words.

It takes some getting used to. Yeah, yeah, time heals all wounds. Blah. But coping in the now is difficult. You tell yourself that you may never sleep again! You know that's not true, but maybe you're a little dramatic sometimes. Whatever.

When I was a freshman in college, a friend of a friend of mine had one of these major break-ups. I vividly remember standing with her in the Brockway Dining Hall, talking about how she was doing with it. She mentioned the sleeping thing. She said, more than anything, she missed his ankle intertwined with hers during sleep. She said that some nights she'd wake up, not feeling his ankle, and scream (her roommate vouched for the middle of the night screaming). At the time, because I had never really been in a relationship that I deemed so intense (let alone having spent regular nights with a boy in bed!), I didn't get it. The ankle arrangement didn't sound very conducive to pleasant, restful sleeping anyway.

Well, its been eight years since that encounter in Brockway, and I'm sure she's fine now. Sleeping and such.

My solution to the sleeping thing after my relationship ended, thankfully, came with some comic relief (otherwise I probably wouldn't be sharing, right?). It was The Simpsons. Why? Well, it's two-fold. One, I happen to own multiple seasons of The Simpsons on DVD, so I wasn't locked into getting over the sleeping thing with a series that only went on for two or three seasons. Longevity was on my side. Two, Homer Simpson reminds me a little of my ex-boyfriend. Told you it was comedic. He knows this, so it's no surprise. No, he's not borderline moronic or an alcoholic. It's Homer's endearing qualities that they share. Oh, and Homer sings "la la la la" in his head while Marge talks, too. So the character was oddly comforting without beating me over the head. Not like listening to Elvis Costello's "Still" or Mates of States' "Drop and Anchor" was. (Oh, I'm a girl, of course I purposely tortured myself with sad music and ice cream...)

So I started watching The Simpsons every night to fall asleep. Every night. And it took a week or two, but it started working. I'd sleep alone. It was probably my first little victory, courtesy of Homer, Marge, Chief Wiggum and Comic Book Guy.

Now, though, it's a Pavlovian response. Simpsons - grow tired - sleep. Makes it a little more difficult to stay awake for new episodes on Sunday evening now, but it's certainly been productive for me.

And it's kinda funny that I started to get over my break-up because of Homer Simpson.