On Thursday I put my best friend on a plane to Boston.  Well, actually, I chucked her out in the parking garage across from the American terminal at LAX because we accidentally entered the structure and couldn't figure how to get out without her missing her plane.  Oh the irony - but that's a different story.  She visited me for almost a week, and we had a lovely time.  I have many friends.  Many good friends, many close friends, many people in my various circles that I know and like well.  But there are few people with whom I can really let go and be myself.

This is overexplanatory emotional tripe.  I'm trying to tell you about how I took my cat to the vet because he has a gnarly wound, and how I broke down while he was there because I was really worried about him and really lonely and felt like there was no one I could call.  I wanted to tell you a funny, self-deprecating story about how my cat is an extension of myself, and my horoscope this week said, (I'm paraphrasing here) "You're on a giant universal lathe right now, that is spinning you around and around, transforming you into something more beautiful and useful.  This is a painful process, it's worth it though."  I think this is funny because according to the vet, my cat seems to have pierced his side on something very like a lathe (my analogy, not hers).  And when I was showing people on myself where his wound is, it's basically the same place as my tattoo.  Coincidence?  I think not.  I felt so alone while Zaphod was at the vet yesterday.  I felt like, "That cat is my lifeline.  Without him I will be truly alone in LA."  I missed my family desperately.  I wanted to be able to hang out at someone's house where I don't have to try, I don't have to look good, I don't have to be entertaining or helpful or explain the background of my thoughts.  Coming from a week of BFF bliss (BFFB!) this aloneness and family-missingness was even harder to swallow.

Tonight I returned to my acting class after a six week hiatus.  It was good to be there, but also kind of tough.  Right before going to class I got some other news that really called some things into question.  The funny thing is, this other news isn't my news.  It's someone else's news (so I won't share it with you).  News that I should be happy about!  That I am happy about, if I stop to think.  But like so many things in life, when I heard this happy fare I immediately made it about me.  I hate that that's my reaction, but that's what it was.  And then, I came home.  We have a tradition of going to drinks after class, and certainly tonight, after my absence, should have been a night to celebrate.  Except I guess I didn't feel like celebrating.  Instead I came home to lick my wounds.  I wanted to check on my poor drugged out cat, stumbling into things with his cone, rolling around on his shaved belly with tubes sticking out (it's pretty freaky looking).

Sometimes I think, "Chatty Cathy really doesn't have to hang it out so much."  I had a guy tell me recently that he read my whole blog, and I wondered if that meant there was too much information here.  I don't know if these rambling musings are interesting or self-indulgent.  And I am making an effort to express more through art than through what is basically an embarrassing live journal.  But here it is anyway.