writing notes

ADD and OCD with a twist of lime

I’m writing a note in class. How tenth grade. I love it.

The show is coming up. It’s starting to come together. I’m glad to see everyone excited about getting it off the ground. There’s only three weeks left until BS4.

I have a hard time sitting through these classes. Right now we are reviewing what we learned yesterday. I learned yesterday that you just can’t pick right back up into Tae Bo after a week off. But back to the class– I sit still as it is all day at work, but sitting still without independent thought is maddening. I’m in this class to learn the info in one chapter, but I have to sit through three days of lecture to get there.

It’s interesting to see what people do to act like they are paying attention in the class. Some stare at the instructor while they play solitaire. Some pretend to be deep in thought on their machines– deep into some “problem” they are working on– with their faces all askew while they really just play solitaire. Some pretend to be fascinated by what their partner is doing on his machine– but he’s really just watching someone play solitaire.

I had a dream last night that I was in Aspen with Eric and I wanted to watch David Cross’ show (and he was supposed to be younger in the show– somehow we could watch back in time) but the only way we could get in was if I made out with this guy from HBO. Eric seemed to be loving the David Cross show (which was about him being a homeless person who became a Roman God), so I just kept lightly kissing the HBO guy with my eyes on the stage.

I’m not really sure what that means– I guess I’m feeling a bit whorish after all of my failed attempts to get backstage during the Janeane Garafalo/ David Cross show.

[scripty]
MAN IN UNIFORM
Can I help you?

PAMIE
Oh. I thought this was the bathroom.
to the left she sees Kathy Griffin on stage
I guess I’m lost.

MAN
You think?
[/scripty]

And part of me wanted to just bust past this guy wearing tassels off his shoulders like the Surgeon General of the Village People and say something like, “I’m supposed to be doing this–” And then I’d be in. I’d be backstage. But the rest of me kept thinking, “What am I doing? Why can’t I just be cool? I don’t know these people. They don’t know me. Why do I feel the desire to meet them so much? Why do I feel like I’ve failed? Why didn’t they notice me? Do I not look funny?”

And what would have happened if I had met them? Chatting with Andy Dick didn’t change my life. Ask him about me today– I’m sure he has no idea who I am. I was constantly three seconds away from going Chris Farley on these people: “Hey, Steven! Remember when you said you had a map of the United States its actual size? That was AWESOME!”

Because then I went to the festival to star gaze, and not to be a peer. A colleague. A fellow funny gal. And that’s not the look I’m going for.

Cool. Calm.. Collected… remember?

Instead I’d give Matt a karate chop shouting, “Martin Short!” starting a wave of people whispering his name. Instead I was bummed that I wasn’t with Ray when he saw Penny Marshall, because I ‘d like to tell her how she always reminds me of my mother. Instead I wished that I was there when James L. Brooks walked outside of the bar in front of Matt and shouted, “Taxi!”

Give it ten seconds, then you get it. Don’t feel bad. It takes everyone a couple of seconds. Now, if he had been sitting in front of me at a movie theatre and turned around and went, “Shh!” and someone cut in with a piano playing “King of Wishful Thinking”, then you’d instantly get it. but the “Taxi!” thing really happened…

I went from being in Aspen to being in this class. I’ve yet to catch up on my sleep. This weekend I have so much writing to do (script editing, another show to write, three articles for magazine submission) and so many shows and rehearsals plus sxsw– it looks like I won’t be catching up on sleep until June.

Have I mentioned Eric’s mom is here in two weeks?

It’s been a regular invasion here in 1999. I’m excited she’s coming. It’s just so close to my show(s) I’m worried she’s going to see a crazy person. I’m just going to be running around mumbling– maybe she’ll want to do Tae Bo with me instead of just watching. From now on I’m charging admission to watch. I’m serious. My kicks are improving. A girl” gotta make some cash. You guys don’t buy enough books that I recommend.

That’s something I’m missing– time to read. I hope this summer brings some leisure time. I’ve got a few books stacked up and I just keep looking at them and sighing.

That and I told myself I can’t go to my list of fun books until I finish The Good Earth. I don’t hate it or anything, I just wish I wasn’t reading about strife right now.

Do you know how I know how long it is until Eric’s mom is here? How I know that my next break is in June?

Because of my new obsession.

My new obsession is my big fat day planner. I’ve been craving one for about a month, coveting everyone else’s. I’d say irrational things like, “Look at your day planner! See, that’s what I want, but I can’t find one anywhere.”

And the day planner owner would say, “Oh, really? Where did you look?”

“Old Navy.”

But I found one. At Eckerd’s. It’s great. It has a calendar, both a week and a month in a glance. It has an address book, metric conversions, a scratch pad, time zones, coupon pockets, shopping lists, a section for your budget, a calorie counter, a section for birthdays and anniversaries and pockets for stamps and emergency cash. I think emergency cash is the coolest.

“Oh, there’s a garage sale. I wish I could get that dress. Wait– I have some emergency cash.”

It sounds so responsible.

I think responsibility is sexy.

I’ve been feverishly updating in my day planner since I got it two weeks ago. I’m adding birthdays and rehearsals and pay days and vacation times–

Oh! I just remembered another one to add… trip… to… Baltimore…

And I can see that I’m busy until June. I’m important to someone until at least June. There are things that I need to do until at least June. I get to say the sentence, “I need to be somewhere, so I gotta go…” until at least June.

It is a justification for my life. It is the ability to make my goals and duties tangible.

And chances are I’ll put all this work into making my day planner complete and I’ll lose it… but that’s okay. I’m responsible there too. Page one has my name, phone number, and address, my cell phone number, my work number, my three e-mail addresses– four if you count girliestyle… But I won’t. I know when I’m going too far.

I can plot out how much money I’m going to spend in a month and then see where I went over budget and how– sitting back in my rolly chair like Dr. Evil petting Taylor and saying, “Yes. Perhaps I purchased too much bruschetta this month!”

It’s important to spot your weaknesses.

I love the way the day planner snaps shut after I’ve added an event. “SNAP!” It announces my importance and seals the event in time. “SNAP!” Something has been recorded. “SNAP!” I have something to do.

It’s like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder without all that hand washing.

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