I have so much to say

And if I do then you will see how hard it is inside my head. I just want to stay up and drink this beer, smoke cigarettes, so I'll try.

I think I made a big decision. I think I will ask for a sabbatical from my job. I hope they don't laugh at me. But I want two months off and I want to go to acting workshops (especially movement!) at night and write in the day and then come back to my job when I freak out about money. There's no reason why not. Even if they won't take me back, I should be able to get back into the workforce. There're jobs aren't there?

I saw a play tonight.

Last week, at this time, I was having all eye-looking-into sex with the guy from work. The next day, I sent him some photos of the wedding weekend I'd gone to a weekend before. I haven't heard from him since then. But today I got to see him cuz I was working front desk ("got to" is sarcastic). I ignored him and he ignored me right back. Professional I suppose, polite.

I put that here begging you to think I'm saying that I want a sabbatical because I'm strung out over the guy and can't stand it.

Actually I want a sabbatical from thinking of my life in these terms as they've been for an age now.

I want to make up a character - I want to make up two and put them in a situation together. But my mind's both cluttered and closed, with my routine, and the narrow prescription I've put on being able to get liberated from it.

KFR may write me that I'm way off -- in a looney state.

I think I'm not, but I'm really scared to ask for the leave.

I have been reading the advice column of a cartoon cat for the last two days.

I think I should take a month or two off for a workshop. Have a reward.

I think I will not write a play now if I continue working there.

Tonight my friend brought me a bag within which were $4000 worth of amazing shoes. She's been working for a shoe advertising company since she graduated college a year ago. I am the new owner of a wardrobe of the most fantastic shoes I now desire a wardrobe of clothes to accompany.

Not for nothing the work guy, don't get me wrong. (I want him to see some of these shoes on me - with sex comes the absolutely most unuseful kind of thinking!)

He would ask me about my writing when he did re-organize his plans enough to see me. Shortly after asking he encouraged me to take the LSAT. It seemed he couldn't understand how I was so smart. When I told him that for early grammar school I atteneded PS 158, he said I was joking. I couldn't understand. I said "Why would I joke about that? What's the joke?" He told me stuff like theater and writing makes a better hobby and I told him, "Yes, I'm well aware."

It is this or law school. There is no way I'm going to law school without a boyfriend, hot and supportive. Sorry dudes, I don't know what wave of feminism that is - no wave I think, but that's where it's at on this cruise ship. (I'm a little high)

I am absolutly exhausted with thinking about myself to this degree and that's why I think the break from work is necessary, not frivolous. I also think I deserve it. Deserving is a funny thing. I don't deserve it more than Iraqi civilians with their lives torn apart or my cabbie just now who has only been in the country for one year and a half and had absolutely no idea how to get to my house. We spoke a little French.

But if I can possibly have it, I may as well to stop thinking about starting a family when the why and the how have yet to appear. And I can do it - somehow I am not from Algeria driving a cab, and dear god I know I'm not a genius. I actually insulted the playwright tonight when I met him, I think, telling him that I understood how he did the timeline so the character was actually alive when that character was dead - he said so immediately. I don't care. I just want to be creative since it's at all feasible, rather than be dressing up at work for the sake of nothing, well, like everything else for the sake of expression but it's pointless to express with your shoes to the financial whizzes who don't understand why people need to be different or, yeah, are addicted to cigarettes.

So sure, the boy has something to do with it. But only that, well mostly that, fuck his improv. Do you know how I understand theater? Do you know how you use it for a hobby? (ha ha -- I'm just pissed. Still all props to people who at least know they need to express themselves somehow. Just not this guy who's dissing me.)

And oh the theater people make me crazy. Truly - how they think you can just not have a job!!! But I just want a couple months. Please.

So that is my plea to get out of myself. I'm not making it twice, right?

love you
Alexis