Not Just A Punto
Cleaning Up The Spilt Milk

I Really Overpacked For A Long Weekend In London

(I'm writing this on the plane back to Los Angeles and will post it later when I get home.)

When I get home.

Jesus, this is just surreal.  

I had rearranged my brain and heart and soul (and hair) to prepare for this job, for being away, for leaving home and Kurt and LA and Bunny.  We had plans, important income related plans, life plans.  I sold my car.  I sold my old computer.  I got rid of a lot of things.  I bought a lot of things in prep for this.  

(By the way, I'm listening to Alanis Morisette singing "Jagged Little PIll" by coincidence.)

Just about everyone I have spoken to in the last 4 days have said "Well, there must be something better coming for you."  COME ON!  It doesn't get much better than what this was going to be!  Great movie, great director, great actor, great production team, get paid to live and work in London for five months, save lots of money.  Oy.  It's just surreal.  I am a bit thrown off.  Even being on the plane right now is still not real.  I'll be standing in my house in a few hours and holding Bunny and feeling really unclear on life.  

As if I need more of that these days.

I've been thinking of Jen a lot these last couple of days, thinking about how funny our iChats would have been over the weekend and yesterday, lots of "!!!!"s  and "1111"s and "I KNOW!!!!"s (we would imitate Monica from Friends.)  She hated to fly and traveling is something we haven't done together since we were little kids and flew from Honolulu to Kona in the summers and Christmas.  We were very different that way.  But she seemed to always like to hear about what I was doing and where I was going.  I knew I could always call and find her at home, or turn on my iChat and find here there to say whatever, even if it ended up being "JESUS! MY JOB JUST GOT CANCELLED AND I JUST GOT HERE!"  

"It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife."  (I haven't listened to this album in so many years.)

The guy next to me on the plane spent Sunday in Paris watching the last day of the Tour De France and took a zillion photos.  We talked about it for a bit and I was watching as he scrolled through and edited some of his photos.  I could have gone to Paris to see it as well, but I didn't.   Now I'm sort of mad at myself for not going.  (Brian, I had a great time in Oxford and Marlow, I really did.)  Everything is just upside down again and I don't know what to do.

Again, I need time to get righted and figure out what I'm doing.  

Frak me.  

What is the "great thing coming along" ??  I really need some answers.  

How much more can a good gal take?

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