Things are about to take a pretty swift turn for the better…but it’s all top secret as that energy of gushing about things that haven’t been done isn’t really so much my style anymore. But, in the news:

I got a cd in the mail yesterday with my name as song #3, yes, deanna ++++++, printed glossy on the back cover. Paul is one of my long lost bus rides gone good who rocks the universe with the best spirit and energy. And it’s good good good.

I get to walk 3 miles to the train terminal near the manhattan bridge if there is a strike tomorrow since my friends in spa catalog sales are too good to drive down the street for 5 minutes to pick me and my work buddy up.

My voice lessons are going along so well…so far. It’s something I refuse to give up because it would be a lovely realization, words to beats, melody and harmonized for the general public’s ears.

Francine is coming for kissmas dinner as is fetus and possibly e, and b, the crown prince of homosexuality, I hope. I wish you could come CD, but since your girlfriend is still an obsessed psycho stalking my journal and not knowing that we hang out it’s something that can’t happen and certainly won’t. It’s pretty awesome since I have to boycott your birthday parties and any other gangly events others might be attending. Oh well.

When Kate came to town it was all excitement and rockstardom. We ran all over creation, and for once I did feel as if I was on vacation as well. On Sunday especially: we saw the “bodies” exhibit down at the south street sea port and peered at all of our inside parts in real life as opposed to out of a book. It was pretty awesome, and a view that couldn’t really be enjoyed by regular human eyes unless you were a doctor in surgery. The artist, er doctor that did it removed all water from the cadavers and replaced it with plasticine which keeps the stuff fresh like any good plastic wrap or tupper ware container would. My favorite was of course the room with vessels, where they had plasticized just the capillaries and veins and major blood vessels of the upper torsos, legs, and head. Then we ran to central park to skate (where everyone else seemed to be as well), decided against that, walked over to check Bergdorf Goodman’s windows (good god, that is artwork in itself), ran in and saw all the shit I will never be able to afford. Walked to some cheesy ass bar to drink, came back and met Eddie for dinner at Du Mont, which is so overthetop delicious we eat there every week. Came home, drunk and sticky, and she left the next day. The best thing was Eddie is so stellar with my friends it’s actually cool to not have to worry about mismatched chemicals and reactions. And to his credit, even when my friends have hurt me, he has been nothing but supportive of my emotions and never shit talked anyone around me, even if they really deserve it.

I need Kate to visit more often, because hanging out with my old school non-issued girls is something I miss: it’s like millions of tiny shreds of light to do that, and life rocks the casbah when you hang out with normal people. Apparently she will be moving here within the next year (so she wants to anyways) and it would be a nice addition, ms kate palmer, to my small menagerie of friends. This chick cristina from work is also cool like that, and we get to hang out this evening in preparation for our hellish walk in the mornin.

Transit strike, they say? I honestly cannot really empathize with people who make at the very bottom ranks $20.89 an hour. When they are inconveniencing and fucking over people who make so much less than that…and in the midst of a holiday season when people are working their asses off for the kids no less. Yeah, how about we all get paid $20 an hour and then maybe we can understand. The only bargaining power these kids should have is in not having their health insurance fucked with, and their retirement age should not be increased. But I find it difficult to really feel badly for people who make almost 4 times the minimum wage when the people affected by the strike are the ones without cars and who do not make a living wage. I’m all for getting what you need, but a lot of this is about want with little attention paid to the people who actually pay for these people to make ridiculous amounts of money. It actually makes me rethink my career path, since I could get paid $20.89 to clean up garbage from the platform. I compare this to my actual skill set and I realize I should be making like $50 an hour since I can do all of that and so much more.

hahah.

I have to work a party on saturday for my cracked out roommate who is ADD with OCD all while running a business.

Then it’s beauties and yummies in prep for my lovely kissmas break. Francine will be around from like the eve to the 4th…and you won’t see me complain.

oh…and I forgot. someone better send me a card. or i will cry.