Nostalgia and that pit at the bottom of your stomach

I've always snickered at people reminiscing "remember when..."

Typically these 2 words were the beginning of a long recollection of high school or college events. I have no fondness for my high school or college days. I felt forced to go to both. Looked at both as merely something to get out of the way to please my government and my mother.

But when I finally graduated, I was free, finally 100% free to do what I wanted with my life. And I soared.

I adopted a 10-wk kitten, all black, he was "this close" to be euthanized at the humane society. The staff lined up and cheered as he was carried from his cage to my lap. I named him Mikhail, called him Misha, and only spoke Russian to him.

I got myself a scholarship to a dance studio on the north side of Chicago. For the first time in my life....in 13 years of desperately wanting to study dance...I was free to study dance 9am-6pm Monday-Friday. All I had to do in exchange was sweep floors, wash mirrors, and be good. And write a paper here and there on dance legends. I learned about Katherine Dunham at that studio. And how she discovered a new genre of dance while working on her PhD in Anthropology at the University of Chicago. I decided if the dancing didnt' work out, I'd get my PhD in Anthropology from the University of Chicago. Maybe discover a new genre of dance. Maybe not.

I danced all day every day. Then on the weekends I danced more in rehearsals for shows. Late night drinks with fellow dancers. Home to my wee black kitten for fetch and mousies and Russian.

I got myself an apartment-- top floor of a 3-flat-- on Sheffield just north of Belmont. How convenient... My favorite hobby was dancing until 3am at the Avalon on Belmont. Just 2 doors East of Sheffield.

Rent was $230/month. I had a closet-less room in a 2 1/2 bedroom (I had the 1/2). I was able to move myself in 3 car trips.

Oh yea, this was after I landed an apprenticeship with a world class Graham company-- Joseph Holmes Dance Chicago. I still danced all day, rehearsed all day, swept floors, pulled pubic hairs out of shower drains, took out the garbage. Lived on bananas, peanut butter, yogurt, pasta. Cheap but filling for an athlete. Dream life for a dancer forbidden to dance until she finished college.

Then an audition for one of the best dance companies in the world- and the artistic director pointing me out the entire time. And him coming up to me a week later to gush about how beautiful a dancer I am. And how the only reason he didn't hire me was he needed to get a mature redhead and I was too young at 23. I immediately dyed my hair red and started booking dance jobs left/right.

Meeting Gwen Verdon. and Twyla Tharp. Playing with Lou's dog and impressing him with my knowledge of vet medicine.

And the owner of Avalon introduced me to the owner of The Vic. So I had myself an amazing bartending job where I made oodles of cash in 5 hr shifts. 1 block from home. Partied with legends of rock. Was set up with a famous comedian. Only to learn- as he asked me to go to Glee Club with him the following night- that he's gay. oopsie!

Members of Jesus and the Mary Chain making cocktails for me backstage at their Metro Show for which they gave me all-access passes. "You served us, so now we'll serve you!" How fun to watch beautiful Ken get to flirt with Hope Sandoval. He had such an adorable crush-

Dancing in a sun costume while my dear sweet friend, Ben, told the 6th graders in that south-side school all about the solar system. Laughing at the vast difference between the response of the rich white kids vs. the poor black kids. And how the poor black kids were definitely the more enjoyable audience.

Getting smashed at Market Days...Frank Orrall getting ready to spin on the corner of Halsted and Roscoe-- but the sky breaks open rain thrashes down upon us as we defy nature and continue to dance. And Frank defies electrocution and continues to spin. And everyone is wet and everyone is sweaty and everyone is drunk and everyone is giggling. and smiling. and happy. And it gets so dangerous with the lightening striking the small DJ stage, the music has to stop. But the dancing continues. and the bars are bursting. and the crowd is laughing. and wet. and sweaty. and smiling. and Halsted Street, from Belmont up to Addison thumps thumps until 4am as we continue to dance and sweat and drink and laugh and flirt and giggle.

And I sit here today in a generic coffee shop on Montana Avenue. 6 blocks from the Pacific Ocean. 2 blocks from home. A infinite distance from the laughing the dancing the sweating the smiling the giggling the drinking the flirting the spinning the music. The happy.

The eternal nights that last until we stumble to Nookies for a 6am breakfast before going home and to bed.

The cozy Saturday nights in January all bundled up with the kitties and some movies and the radiator banging heat into my wee historic landmark studio off Lake Michigan. The 11pm call from Heather "what are you doing?! I wanna get out! Meet me at Delilah's at midnight baby" I jump in the shower, put on my favorite dance clothes and grab a taxi in front of my building. 40 degrees below zero but I dont' need a coat. The Bailey's I put in my coffee while getting ready has deadened my skin's ability to read cold. Heather's sitting on a barstool dragging another puff from her Virginia Slim Ultra Slim Menthol Light. Rolling her eyes at the yuppies making fun of her tattoos and scars and combat boots. But we sit down and drink our martini's because the owner is a friend and it's sometimes more fun to be surrounded by yuppies tearing us down vs. hipsters supporting us.

And I scour the photos on Facebook. All the black and white images from Avalon, China Club, Shelter, Metro, Smart Bar...What happened to Augenblick? Henry? He's Liz Phair's favorite bartender...maybe she knows. I miss Henry and his late night after hours and his surprise order "the owner insists you drink these shots NOW!". I miss the snow. I miss struggling and fighting and laughing trying to get to the taxi in my wornout combat boots despite the 2 inch thick layer of ice and the winds so strong they literally blow me into the intersection.

And my heart hurts missing that happiness. And the success. and the hope. and the arrogance. and the spite. and the fire. and the rebellion. The hot coffee with baileys in a basement coffee shop on Dearborn. The soap-soaked skin in a club on Halsted. The random meetings with long lost friends both of us drunk at 2am and confessing we've loved each other since we were 13.

Don't bother mentioning high school or college. I'm so glad to put those behind me and forget them. But the 8 years between college and moving to LA. Those were the most glorious. Sometimes the most painful. But overall the most beautiful. It was the sunbeams that break through after a lifetime of rain. Rainbow years. I do wish I had a time machine to go back. Just for a week. Just so I can feel happiness.

To be reminded what it is to be happy.

YOU are the change you've been waiting for

Response to Shawn to emailed me: Great job! Like Barack said--YOU made the difference!! :D

we all did :-)

I firmly believe many laws have passed and elections lost due to too many people thinking their vote or voice didn't count enough to be missed. This year millions of Americans FINALLY realized their opinion CAN make a difference and thus made bloody certain they spoke up, lined up, and voted. Honestly the hundreds of people (all sorts of people- not the usual political junkies and activist hippies) who showed up every weekend to my phone bank here in Santa Monica begging "how can I help?! Give me those phone numbers to call!" coupled with news footage of long lines waiting up to 4 hours to vote.......THAT's what made me cry in relief and pride for my country.

Can Obama make the changes he promised? who knows. Hopefully yes.

One thing he's ALREADY changed is all of us. Somehow there's something about him which inspired millions of non-voters to get to the polls this year. I spoked with a 31yr man in Las Vegas who told me this is the first time he's ever been excited to vote. I attended a 2-day training, Camp Obama, where several hundred people buzzed with the new confidence that each and every one of them (us) CAN be a leader and CAN improve our country. One person CAN make a difference- we're ALL leaders inside if we focus our passion and make the effort. This room included trust-fund waspy ivy leaguers and african-american welfare moms.

I'm crying as I type this- I'm looking forward to the future again, aren't you? :-)

URS Returns from its hiatus

So my favorite pop girl crush sensation returns to the scene of the crime - but minus Sarah Silverman's asinine comments. As she returns from hiding, we return to equally cheering her on and wondering if she'll provide more fodder for our cattiness. Either way it's something to wait for, to see live vs. Tivo, and to discuss on our blogs our facebooks our twitters as soon as she walks off the stage at Paramount this Sunday evening.

Still crying over Hillary

In case you missed it, here's the tribute video that aired at the Democratic Convention. I realized how sad I still am she won't be running our country. Barak Obama is magical, but it would have been ideal if he could have led us with her - not instead of her.

Blues at the Farmers' Market

When I find myself in times of unemployment, I make a promise to myself to do all the things I never have the time for when I'm employed. This:

a. keeps me from complete anxiety paralysis worried about how the hell I'm going to buy food and rent
b. avoids the eventual self-loathing that will happen when I'm working again and still have to muddle through the clutter in my spare room or look at the damage still on the walls from my last roommate.

It also fills the soul.

I do fail at this promise to myself, however...I know I know...shocker.

oooo the blues singer wearing the dirty White Sox cap is singing a song I loved when I was a kid - "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out" yes. I was a strange kid. Not many friends. Just me, my mom's long pink scarf, and the albums in my mom & sister's rooms. Barbara Streisand sings this on her "My Name is Barbara....Two" album. I used to lip-synch and dance/perform the entire album in our living room as if I were performing for my live telecast special. "Nobody Knows You...." is belted in a grovelly bluesy manner unlike the rest of the tracks...then segues back into 2nd Hand Rose in a rousing conclusion to one of the best albums EVER.

ok back to failure and the universe taking care of us despite ourselves. I spent the past 2 days locked in my apartment not accomplishing much more than self-pity and high anxiety. I stared at my computer hitting refresh on FaceBook for about 4 hours I believe. Today Time Warner Cable is having troubles so I was forced out into the world. I have to fill out my unemployment form and all my job apps are online in my email history. I had to get to the Farmers' Market to discuss my temple CSA with the farmer as he's impossible to reach via phone or email. So life (or Time Warner & Sinai Temple) forced me out for a couple hours.

The farmer didn't come down with his crew today, but I have my laptop and Santa Monica offers free Wi-Fi if you're downtown. So I sit here listening to a brilliant blues artist camped out on the promenade next to the farmers' market. Toddlers barely able to stand are wiggling and bouncing to his sliding guitar strings and emotional southern vocals. The air is lightly puffing through my hair cooling the temp from the hot sun to make this office a perfect temperature. As I focus on my self-indulgent storytelling the singer's performance is mixed with footsteps and random snippets of lunchtime conversations. Pigeons make a stop by me now and then to grab a quick bite before continuing their food search.

It's appalling Jessican Simpson and Britney Spears are millionaires while this brilliant musician is making pennies playing for pigeons. Then again they do Pop and he does Blues so it's all fitting, no?

oo! the Chabad has arrived bringing Mitvah's on Wheels and is now wrapping tefillin on the croc kiosk workers' arms.

A young dad wearing camouflage and dreadlocks helps his daughter travel the promenade without stepping on cracks.

As much as the air and sun and footsteps and birds and babies and blues are lifting my spirits, I still have responsibilities. yes, it's true. Even the unemployed slackers of this world have commitments by golly. Time to get back home to take the girls on a walk thanking them for letting me play for a couple hours.

Feel the tingle return

My body tingles

cold shaky full warm sweaty throbbing tingly

I feel again

Nic Harcourt began his show this morning with an oldy but goody from Garbage . I sat in my office thinking "hmm this is good, is it a cover or an original?" Stepping towards my little radio propped on the back of my yard-sale chair, I continued to place the music. After pressing the volume button forcing the singer's voice to fill my living room, my body began to move.

Slowly, painfully, emotionally...my body moves again. Unlike it has in years. I'm returned to my late nights/early mornings stomping alone on the dancefloor at Avalon.

The room is dark and smoky with a faint scent of spilled beer, Jack Daniels, and sass. I'm alone in a room crowded with nightcrawlers. The sex the want the pain the glee the arrogance the hate the youth the insecurity the dread the hope the lust.

It breaks through the walls of age and defeat and fills my veins again.

I'm alive again.

Daily Kabbalah Tune Up

From the Kabbalah Centre of Los Angeles

There is a joke about these two shoe salesmen who travel to a third world country in search of new business opportunities.

One man calls his wife the moment he lands, telling her, "Honey, I'm coming back home. There's no hope here. Nobody here is wearing shoes, so there's no one to sell to." He boards the next flight home.

The second man calls his wife and says, "Honey, you wouldn't believe what I found here. There is so much opportunity. No one here is wearing shoes. I can sell to the whole country!"

There's opportunity everywhere. When we have a consciousness of expecting the magic to happen, it will happen. We'll find the right people, we'll move in the right circles, we'll 'bump' into the right solutions. It all starts with that opening in the mind.

Open up today. Open wide!