How Therapy Is Going

First Session.
Weather: Pouring rain.
Environment: Sitting on decidedly un-vegan leather couch.
Equipment: Hot peppermint tea.

Dr. X: So, it just seems like your confidence level is dependent on other people's approval.

Laura: Um, yes. All signs point to yes.

Dr. X: And that has always been the case?

Laura: No, not at all! I just always tried to bring home perfect straight-A report cards and always go to church. Well, no. I couldn't JUST go to church, I went to church and youth group and sang in the choir and went on retreats and stuff. And of course I always wanted everyone to like me, everyone, all the time, to the point of badgering people. Hm. And then there was college, I think there was a point when I attempted 26 credits in one semester, you know, so I could prove that I belonged there and was doing a good job and...

Dr. X: (staring at me intently)

Laura: Um. Well. I'm guessing yes, that has always been the case.

Dr. X: Hmm.

Laura: So, how do I build self-confidence that is not dependent on the approval of others?

Dr. X: You take risks. You challenge yourself. You do things you are too scared to do.

Laura: Okay.

*pause*

Laura: I'm moving to Africa.

Dr. X: That's...not entirely necessary.

Laura: Oh.

Session 2, a week later.
Weather: Pouring rain outside AGAIN.
Equipment: Iced Soy Latte, Tissues, Panicky Attitude.

Dr. X: And what about that makes you uncomfortable?

Laura: (exploding, clutching handful of tissues, obviously distraught) EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE.

Dr. X: Because...

Laura: Because that's not how it is SUPPOSED TO GO! It is supposed to be like this and this and this and this because I SAY SO. And when it doesn't DO that, I freak out! Because I need order! I need security! I need to know what's going on! I need money! For a house! And babies before I'm 38 because, you know Down's Syndrome! Just, BECAUSE! BECAUSE I NEED IT TO BE THAT WAY.

Dr. X: Well. It's not that way.

Laura: (sniffles pathetically) I know.

Dr. X: And so, what will happen if it doesn't go the way you want it to? If THINGS don't go the way you plan them?

Laura: I will die alone in a house full of cats.

Dr. X: I...

*pause*

Dr. X: (continuing) I am going to say something and I don't want it to sound demeaning. You understand that?

Laura: Yes.

Dr. X: I don't want you to think that it's demeaning because I'm just...I'm just feeding what you're giving me back to you. You understand that?

Laura: Yes?

Dr. X: It's just that...the way you think...well...the way you lay things out in your mind...it's very...interesting.

Laura: *blows nose* Thank you. I feel like I've had a lot to say.

Dr. X: Recently?

Laura: No, just for, like, twenty years.

Session 3.
Weather: Drizzling rain for the THIRD WEEK IN A ROW.
Equipment: Iced soy latte, tissues, plus peppermint candies out of Dr. X's candy bowl.

Laura and Dr. X talk about psychological issues for about thirty minutes. And then the conversation takes a turn.

Dr. X: So, you have an audition today?

Laura: Yes.

Dr. X: What are you going to sing?

Laura: A very special song.

Dr. X: That sounds wonderful.

Laura: I'm REALLY right for this part.

Dr. X: That's great!

Laura: Well, yeah. Great until I get there and they say I'm too tall.

Dr. X: *staring intently, probably waiting for me to say something incredibly revealing. As usual, he is correct.*

Laura: Do you know that in the past month, I've been denied an audition appointment and/or been denied a callback for a show or a ROLE in a show that I am perfect for in EVERY SINGLE WAY except height, on at least FIVE SEPARATE OCCASIONS?

Dr. X: How tall ARE you?

Laura: 5'5.

Dr. X: That's not that tall.

Laura: That's what my mom says. But I have long limbs and it makes me look taller. Anyway. Apparently the cut-off for every single thing right now is about 5'4.

Dr. X: And this upsets you.

Laura: Yes.

Dr. X: Because.

Laura: Because I'm frustrated and disappointed and I feel like I am never going to book a show ever again in my entire life because my dad gave me long legs that extend my figure and so when I dress up in a dress and heels, I look about 6'5 and it's all thanks to my dad and I'm not angry at my dad, no because I LOVE HIM AND OH LORD I DON'T WANT HIM TO DIE.

Dr. X: He's dying?

Laura: No. He's pretty healthy actually. He likes wearing a Math-a-thon t-shirts and sipping an algae vitamin concoction twice a day.

Dr. X: Hmm.

Laura: THE POINT IS: it is very disheartening and I want to stop feeling sorry for myself and DO something about it. Take action. Take risks.

Dr. X: Good idea.

Laura: Yes.

*pause*

Laura: Well. Not right now.

Dr. X: No?

Laura: No. Today I want to feel sorry for myself and go find the other girls that are shorter than me and break their legs.

Dr. X: We're...just about out of time for this week.

Laura: Do you ever mind sitting in that chair and listening to people ramble?

Dr. X: No. Everyone's different.

Laura: And am I still interesting?

Dr. X: Yes.

Laura: Good. That is all I needed to know.

*pause*

Laura: I'm seeking approval again, aren't I?

Dr. X: I'll see you at the same time next week.

I Almost Forgot...

I went to my cousin Bethany's wedding last weekend up in Massachusetts. Click on the picture below to link to the flickr set. As you can tell, it was a rollicking good time. And, as evidenced by aforementioned picture, it is obvious that I have a deep, sensitive love for my younger siblings.

For the record, I don't expect anyone but family to be able to tell which family members are which and who is related to who. I understand that it's confusing since we are so...how you say? fertile? On the other hand, I don't really expect anyone but family to click the link and actually browse wedding pictures. But hey! Sometimes at an office job, you might get bored and you might need to see a picture of a wedding cake or people that procreate like nobody's business and HEY that's what I'm here for! HEY YO!

Lookin' For Fun and Feelin' Groovy

I suggest y'all run, not walk, to Michael Moore's new film "Sicko."

I always feel special when I see a trailer on the television announce a movie's opening date and then an added, "Opens Friday in Select Theatres". New York City is always home to a "Select Theatre". This is why I pay lots of money for rent and lots of money for pretty much everything. Because I get to see movies first. Ha. I win.

Seriously go.

Also, if you haven't been reading my last post's comments: If you sent me an email in the past ten years and think that maybe, just maybe I saved you into my Address Book and know your e-mail by heart because I love you...you are wrong. I probably have NO IDEA what your e-mail address is so send me an e-mail! Now! Because in case you missed it, some idiot deleted all me data and let's not go there again because oh, how upsetting it still is!

On a better note, Michael Moore rocks my socks and I'm now brainstorming ways to help this country get some universal healthcare. Any ideas? I think first and foremost, I'm moving to France. Pass the wine and hey, can you make vegan crepes?

The Day I Lost My Faith In Humanity

My headphones have been giving me problems. I would be running or whatever and all of a sudden, music would only come through the left headphone instead of the right. So I would go to Radioshack and tell them that their Sony headphones sucked at life and I would then proceed to buy the SAME EXACT PAIR. After the third time returning the broken headphones, I even paid extra for a 2 year warranty in case anything happened to the headphones. OF COURSE something was going to happen to the headphones! I can't hear music out of the right headphone! EVER! Sony! You should announce a recall!

And then? I went to a wedding this weekend and asked my sister to borrow HER headphones because duh! My headphones! They were doing that thing again! And surprise! I put on her headphones and pressed play and thought, "OH MY GOD! My sister's headphones are broken too!!! No sound out of the right headphone except when I jiggle the cord in just the right way...oh.....wait...." And then I realized, 8,000 pairs of headphones too late that maybe, MAYBE it was the iPod! And not the headphones! WHO KNEW!? I DIDN'T.

I trekked into the Apple Store today and realized that I have a crush on every single boy that works there. Except the ugly ones. But more importantly, I puttered around for awhile on a sample MacBook, checked my email a few times, browsed some websites and then oh! They called my name and I went up to the Genius Bar, a little hesitantly I might add, since I've had some previous Bad Luck at the so-called Genius Bar.

But lo and behold, the Genius Mac Man came through for me this time and handed over a BRAND NEW IPOD and promised that would happen for the next year too as long as I bought AppleCare for $63. $63? So I can extend my warranty another year and watch you just HAND ME OVER A BRAND SPANKIN' NEW IPOD FOR FREE? Heck yes. I can't believe I spent all that money on headphones. I am a little...slow.

Anyway, I left the store and there was quite a commotion happening right on 59th Street. Why are there crowds of people hanging out around the Apple Store? What are those video cameras doing there? Why do I recognize that booming voice screaming country music into a microphone? Oh. Yeah. Because it's Toby Keith. Just...playing some music for CBS. Outside. I took a picture with my camera phone because sometimes I am touristy like that. You shall never see it because I haven't yet figured out how to get pictures OFF my phone and onto my computer. Come on. Relax. I only just figured out that it wasn't the damn headphones, you really expect me to extract pictures off my CELLPHONE!? Get real.

I walked to the subway in a great mood, having one of those moments. You know. Those moments. The moments when I realize that even after living outside the hub for 22 years and living inside the hub for 2 years, there are these moments when I see freaking Toby Keith rocking out next to Central Park and I whip out my camera phone and click and then squeal like a girl and want to yell I LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY! I LIVE HERE! IN NEW YORK! WEEEEEEEEEE! Random country music stars and beautiful Genius people who give me new iPods for almost free and NOTHING IS BETTER THAN THIS RIGHT NOW.

Well.

I went home and blinked for awhile and then blinked some more and then stroked my new iPod and then I checked my email. Now, I have three different email accounts. The oldest one is almost 10 years old and people who have known me the longest email me at that address. I want to get rid of it since it's my old AIM screen name and it's a pain in the ass to spell and also, I get a TON of spam there (do you know how much spam you get if your email address has been around for almost a decade? TONS. OF SPAM.) But if you have been reading this blog since it's conception, you probably email me there and hey! I love emailing you! The other email address is a little bit newer and is used primarily for NEW friends. Namely, people that don't have time to listen to an explanation of a screenname I made up when I was 15. The third email address is for business. Whatever.

BACK TO THE STORY AT HAND: I went home and checked my email and logged into my old AIM-name yahoo account first, where I was greeted with one message. Just one. And wait...where are the rest of the emails? Waaaaaaaait. A little confused, I opened up the lone email, assuming it was spam as the subject title was "I DELETE ALL YOU DATA".

And the following message is there:

HI! I DELETE ALL YOU DATA JUST FUR FUN!

IT`S YOUR FAULT. WHY DID YOU CLOSE YOUR MAIL WITHOUT
SIGN OUT?

SO I DELETE YOUR INBOX,SENT MESSAGES, DRAFT
MESSAGES,YOUR FOLDERS,YOUR TRASH, I DELETE EVERYTHING
JUST FOR FUN!

HAVE A GERAT DAY!

...

....

And I wish I could say that it was a lie. But it wasn't. It's true. Whoever it is, spam or more likely, some asshole at the Apple Store who doesn't speak English very well, they really did it. They deleted emails from 1998. They deleted emails from last week. Everything in between is gone too. They deleted saved documents with all my passwords for various websites. They deleted emails that my mother sent me, reminding me of how much she loves me. They deleted birthday wishes, congratulations on booking a show, merry Christmases from college classmates. They deleted love letters from ex-boyfriends, significant emails I kept because sometimes I re-read them and am reminded of how I felt loved and appreciated. When in the mood, I can rummage through my inbox and go back almost 10 years, and find things that make me laugh and things that make me sob. It's kind of like going through my closet, except electronically.

And someone took that away from me. In a matter of minutes. I don't know what else to say because no words can acutely describe my lividity. I am incensed beyond all reasoning and also incredulous that someone would actually DO THAT, would go out of their way to delete things that were very precious to me and THEN have the balls to email me and tell me that they did it and that it was my fault. Pardon me, asshole, but at least I know how to type "great day". And I WAS having a great day until I mistakenly left my email open at the Apple Store and now I'm having another moment, the flipside of that I LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY moment I just described. This new moment is I LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY AND WHY ARE PEOPLE HERE SO RIDICULOUSLY GHETTO AND MALICIOUS THAT THEY WOULD DO THIS TO ME?!!!!! Also, WHY DON'T THEY HAVE A GRASP OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!? I ASK YOU!

I do not understand deliberately mean people. I never have. And so I'm left here angry at myself because all jokes aside about headphones and being a little slow on the uptake, when things like this happen, I feel stupid. I actually feel that I'm as dumb as I seem sometimes. I know that this isn't the truth but now I will just beat myself up over and over again wondering why I didn't sign out of my mailbox at a public computer in the middle of Manhattan. Who does that? Who is honestly that clueless?

I am.

I'm angry at myself and at the same time, I am angry at people who make me feel this way about myself. I'm angry at people who reduce me to someone who feels ashamed and insecure and foolish. Whoever you are, jerkface snotnose asshat who deleted my entire digital life, I hope you walked out of the Apple Store and got hit by a bus. And then after his free concert was over, I hope Toby Keith crossed the street and stepped on your guts and as you lay there on the pavement, with broken legs and a few cracked ribs, you looked up and realized that everyone hates you, including country music superstars.

The Week Ends, The Week Begins

Do you know the 24-hour Eckerd plays "Ants Marching" by Dave Matthews Band at 3:12 in the morning?

NEITHER DID I.

The following conversation took place around 7:30 pm at a delicious Italian restaurant on 9th Avenue.

Laura: Speaking of which, I've been running to the bathroom all day! I can't stop peeing!

Alayna: Do you think it's an infection?

Laura: No. I know what that feels like. It hurts. This doesn't. This is just...all the time!

Alayna: It's an infection.

Laura: No! It's not! I pee all the time anyway. Today was just...more than usual.

Alayna: It's an infection.

Laura: No! No way! Couldn't be! Maybe I'm diabetic.

Alayna: Um.

Fast forward to 3:00 this morning.

The frequent urination is still occurring. So frequent in fact that I have to pee about 3 seconds after I flush the toilet, as in, I'm walking back to bed from the bathroom and before I even lay down, I HAVE TO GO AGAIN. This leads me to the very intelligent conclusion that I do indeed have an infection, a urinary tract infection to be precise. The frequent urination is a clue. Oh and also? Now, when I pee, it feels like I'm peeing fire. Wait. No. Flames. Yes. Flames that contain rusty nails.

So a little while ago, I jumped in the car and drove down the street to Eckerd. I wouldn't normally drive to the drugstore five blocks away but you know, my urethra's on fire and it's early in the morning and I don't know, it could be unsafe. But you know what? Oddly enough, the people who frequent the 24-hour Eckerd are totally sane. They included a police officer and a guy buying a Score bar. I LOVE SCORE BARS! And also, peeing that doesn't cause me to double over in agony.

I went straight to the chick section of the store in search of some over the counter UTI medication. And by "straight to", I mean first, I stopped in the dental aisle and deliberated for about five minutes over which brand of floss to buy. I was fighting back tears and also fighting the urge to urinate in a public place and yet all I could think about was, floss! I ran out of floss! If I don't get floss, then I won't floss tomorrow morning and I may get a cavity and then all my teeth will fall out and I will die alone in a house with many cats. And this, my friends, is why I have a therapist.

UTI's are, unfortunately, not new to me. Inexplicably, at some point during my sophomore year of college, I got one off and on for about three months. And then, they disappeared, never to be seen again. In fact, one of my best stories involves leaving an acting class due to a particularly wretched UTI. No, I can't tell you that story because my mother is already burying her face in her hands and muttering REALLY? You told the internet about PEE? SERIOUSLY?

Yes. But only because it is almost four in the morning now and I can't sleep because I'm waiting for this medication to kick in. So I'm going to take the experts advice and write about what I know and right now, I know about urinary tract infections. I just do. So I will sit here and write about it and eat cold leftover whole wheat linguine, which reminds me of Alayna, hello! YES! It was an infection! You were right! Who knew!?

Sigh.

Dudes, this hurts. For real. Also, for some reason, I have a sudden burst of energy. I was surprised at how eagerly I jumped at the chance to go hang out in the drugstore at 3 am. Granted, it was probably my survival instinct kicking in, telling me to get in the car or risk dying in my very own bed from agonizing pain, but whatever! I feel hip and cool, awake so late/early. It makes me want to do something crazy and fun. Like, vacuum. Or read Glamour magazine.

Actually, I may just finish up my pasta and go sit in bed and continue reading Harry Potter. I've decided to reread only books 5 and 6 in preparation for the final installment which comes out in just about a month now. It's funny what happens when I pick up those books. For one, I've only read #'s 5 and 6 once through so I completely forget what even HAPPENS because I'm stupid. But also, I realize I've forgotten how much I love Harry Potter. Not the boy himself, I mean, duh, of course, big super girly crush! but just J.K. Rowling and her storytelling and the idea of it all. It takes me back to the first summer I found him and how I plowed through the first three at lightning speed.

It's too bad that reading Harry Potter makes people satan worshippers. SIGH.

I can't wait to see how it ends. Also, I can't wait to see my pee turn orange which is a startling yet fascinating side effect of the medication I ingested about twenty-five minutes ago. I'll let you know how it turns out. I know you're on the edge of your seat in anticipation. And also, that I may have pushed my mother off the deep end with this very too personal entry. But I suppose, with this blog, you get me, the neurotic girl who buys dental products just in the very moment when she is absolutely sure that she is near imminent death, very very positive in fact that in just a few seconds, her bladder is going to ignite in a burst of molten lava and that's where she will be found the next morning, splayed across Aisle Four, clutching a container of Easy Glide Floss.

You Thought I Was Kidding, Perhaps?

This is a follow up to my previous post and hopefully this entry will be part of a series. We can call the series "Stuff I Found In My Closet" or "Scary Stuff I Found In My Closet" or perhaps, "Proof That I Have Always Been Mentally Unstable". You choose. Or pick a new one. We'll vote on the most appropriate. Anyway. I haven't yet come across any of the major suicidal poems, so you'll have to deal with this other stuff for now.

I suppose technically my last post was Part One in this series, thanks to the picture of my "RENT" collage. Part Two will now commence--it is a compilation of writing from my youth. Please. Enjoy. Spelling and grammar have NOT been corrected but surprisingly, there aren't many errors. Well. No. Not surprisingly. There are tons of fragments. Still. Like. Um. This blog? I guess I still don't have any writing skills...either that or I have always been RIDICULOUSLY SMART. (AND CRAZY!)

Excerpt from an essay entitled "My Cousins", dated 4/26/1996:

"My two cousins and I do a lot of things together. I know all of their likes and dislikes and their personalities. You can learn very much about people who you see often. Thomas is really funny and loud. Actually the loudest person I know. It is so hysterical when he sings and performs because he dances around while he sings and performs these really weird hand motions. I think it is great that he likes acting because it lets him display his talents. Christine is loud too but is always yelling at Thomas to shut up."

Ah. Family. Laura, you are so eloquent. I particularly love the run-on sentence about Thomas performing and singing and performing. Beautiful. Moving on.

Excerpt from a packet of information labeled "BODIES AND BOUNDARIES: A Young Woman's Conference on Sexuality - June 18-19, 1999." I did not write this but thought that it was a crime to hide such vital information from you all:

"THE MAIN REASON TEENS BEGIN HAVING SEX IS PEER PRESSURE. THE BIGGEST NIGHT FOR OTHERWISE CELIBATE YOUNG PEOPLE TO BEGIN HAVING SEX IS PROM NIGHT. Statistics show that more young people lose their virginity on prom night than on any other night of the year.

Factoids:
1. Germs are not on vacation on prom night
2. There are no force fields around eggs on prom night. Sperm are not immobile on prom night.
3. Alcohol does not kill germs or render sperm harmless on prom night or any other night.
4. Excitement or nerves does not make impregnation impossible on prom night."

Um. I think this is very important information, don't you? My favorite part about it is the use of the term "germs". I'm assuming that these people are talking about STD's, that makes sense. But the phrasing throws the whole thing off. When they use the word "germs" when talking about sex, it kind of feels like they're warning you that should you have premarital sex, PARTICULARLY ON PROM NIGHT, you will get something bad, very bad and dangerous...like strep throat. Which, I mean, is totally possible.

Sidenote: In this packet, there is also a sheet of paper entitled "The Ten Commandments of Dating" as well as a Pledge to Purity, which I was supposed to sign in order to ensure that I would stay physically pure before marriage. For some reason, I NEVER SIGNED THE PLEDGE TO PURITY. Seriously! It's blank! Apparently, even in 1999, I was a slut. But you know, come to think of it, I wasn't. At all. I had just begin to date in 1999 because I was a total loser. Either way, I never signed a Pledge to Purity which means I am totally off the hook for tongue kissing all these years. Now, I'm sure we know, we can get germs on prom night and we can DEFINITELY get germs from tongue kissing but I DO IT ANYWAY. HA! Blasphemer!

From my 9th grade English portfolio Introduction Page entitled "Me, Myself And I":

"I consider myself to be an independent individual striving to stay alive in the tortured world of adolescence."

and then,

"I love spaghetti, rain, Will Chase, singing and "Mary Poppins".

Ah, Laura. You sound so very tortured. Such a hard world it is in which you live, the world where you gaily twirl spaghetti around on a fork, watch the rain and have crushes on Broadway understudies. 'Tis a very tortured, tortured world.

From a 9th grade poem entitled "Frozen Heat". Apparently, I just sat around with my Thesaurus and tried to find different words for hot and cold:

"It feels so hot today that I am cold.
Freezing with heat and shivering with warmth.
It is snowing fire.
The icicles burst into flames."

Had enough? No? You like this poem? Apparently, so did I. Let's keep going! I really bring it home for the final stanza:

"I am scorched with a memory I shall always remember.
Nightmare after nightmare, I am blistered with frostbite.
The torment will never end, misery such as I suffer with.
The night where the heat froze and the cold burned."

I think we can all give this poem a collective grade of WTF?

In closing, I'm going to do something daring: actually admit that I wrote the following poem. As in, the words came out of my very own mind, onto a piece of paper. I'm already burning with embarrassment but come on, this is my blog, it is up to me to find ways to amuse you by humiliating myself. I leave you this poem, in full. It is from the mind of a tortured 7th grader who obviously had many issues with our legal system. My rhymes? ARE AMAZING.

"Him" by Laura, September 13, 1995

In a noisy, noisy courtroom
Sits a lonely, lonely man.
He is tired, oh so tired.
So that he can barely stand.

Does no one give him pity?
Does no one feel his shame?
But him, the accused,
Seems like the only one to blame.

But killed with the dagger,
Her blood oh so brightly red.
But what is going on
Inside HIS lonely head?

Does no one grieve for him?
Him who looks so old.
No, we grieve, not for him
But for the dead, Nicole.

But oh! Don't cry.
Her blood still red as crimson.
Does no one feel sorrow
For poor, poor OJ Simpson?