It is a belief.

I fear life. I live in a state of fear. I long for the days when I was not so scared. I try to snap out of it. I tell myself mind over matter. That is exactly the problem.

My mind opened up to a world of fear the first day I ever had a panic attack. I never had depression or anxiety before I got in my accident. I cannot think of a time when I was fearful. I lived. I never had to think about my exit. I came and went as I pleased.

Today, I live to feel at ease. I will not go out at night if I have to drive home at night alone. I know that I can do it. I understand that nothing will happen to me. My mind comprehends the silliness of what it is doing, but I worry all the time.

It affects whether or not I will enjoy and evening. If the circumstances are not just so, I will think about the drive home or how late is until I start to feel anxious and ultimately cause myself to have an attack.

I have decided that avoiding the scary works best for me. I am comfortable in my bubble. I go to and from work and will drive to places I am comfortable driving during the day. I know it is a terrible way to live. I am happy and young and can be fun when I want to be. I am letting something control me because I am scared of the fact that I might not be able to control it.

I don't know why things have been worse lately. I honestly do not. Maybe my life is starting to fall together, so instead of worrying my mind with goals and the future, I have more time to worry about my real worry. I should probably try to analyze myself less. That might be step one.

So, I used to blog a long time ago....

A long long time ago, I used to blog. I reconnected with an old friend and she mentioned how she has been doing a lot of blogging. She has an amazing and intricate blog, by the way, if you want to check it out... www.createliveblog.com

It started me thinking about how I used to blog. I realize that my blogs were all ridiculous and all Idina-centric... thus, the name of the blog, but it was really just my way of talking about things I care about in a way that makes sense to me. I never cared about grammar or spelling, I just wrote. I have this idea that I will write a book one day, but a Chelsea Handler type book, not a Twilight/Harry Potter one. The memoir books that I find to be most successful are the ones written as if the person is telling you the stories themselves. They are much more relate-able.

Back to Idina, I got a wee bit peeved with the woman after my nightmare cupcake journey to Atlanta. Yes, she brought it on stage, but no... I did not get to have my moment with her. I ask too much of my fake friends.

I have started rehearsing my Wicked role again. I am sure the part has been cast, but it doesn't hurt to know my stuff. I really do need to get those vocal lessons.

Brief catch-up: 9 to 5 in insurance, tired, home, saving, bakery, music, distance, and the moral of the story is... not much has changed. The characters and the back drop are different, but the story is still the same. Trying to stay positive and still having delusions of grandeur. I am here to say that those two life choices don't quite work together cohesively.

I think Idina secretly missed my blog. Whoops, and there I go again.

Today.

Today is a day to blog if there ever was a day to blog. Did you see Oprah today? Wow, the most amazing thing in the entire world. Epic. I can only imagine Idina at home watching this with the little one.

All of that The Way We Were and nothing about the deleted and most important scenes? That movie inspires me in so many ways.

I need that design book for when I get money. I should probably give it ti Idina for the Festival of Lights that is approaching, oh, along with that green girls are hot coozy I got from the coke factory. Ha. Still funny. Streisand and I just connect. She just makes sense. Amazing. I give myself too much credit, alas, I am insane. Do we need to mention the lengths I go to for good stories?

Life lessons.

If I have learned anything in my life, it is that the most unfortunate and tragic of cases get the farthest during celebrity interactions. Last week included.

Cut to me at Davis-Kidd booksellers, waiting patiently for my turn to meet Paula Dean. Moments in I realize how screwed I am. The child in front of me has a broken arm and, well, happens to have cancer. When it is my turn, let's just say I was brushed aside and pushed along to my exist. I am glad that child got her butter necklace, truly, no hard feelings girlfriend. But when is it my turn to get a decent picture and a butter necklace?

Do I have to chop off a limb to get any attention. Some direct eye contact would be a great success any more. I am moderatley attractive and look like I have my shit together so I get shit on instead. Well, I do not have my shit together and I am just as needy as the next red head with braces. Sigh.

I might only be crazy in my head, but my fanaticism should still count. I have feelings too celebrity world.

Just venting. Idina was as nice as she could be. Let's be honest, I look pretty sane. How was she supposed to know that I infiltrated security with a posse and tried to deliver her some her-themed cupcakes? She'll never know. Oh, I did harass her stage manager on facebook though. That's pretty crazy, right? That restraining order just might be coming my way after all.

The things I do for my blog. You are welcome my six loyal readers. Adieu.

Down.

I am here to announce that Atlanta has made me a thousand types of depressed. I think I need to check my blog, maybe this has something to do with my cycle. Honestly, after a day of walking around Atlanta and having fun with friends and eating good food, I top it off with Idina. We wait outside for an autograph (and hopefully a picture, but don't get me started on those UGA ladies) and it happened all quick-like and whatever. Sounds great, right?

Well, I was super down after that. I started realizing that my life is crap. I don't have the slightest idea what I want to do with it (other than be Elphaba in the movie version of Wicked) and I am just getting older and nothing practical comes to mind.

I think this all resonated so hard in ATL because Wicked is the musical that changed it all for me. Yes, I have always loved music and musicals. It has been my life since the day my mother forced me to fake sick from elementary school so we could watch Shirley Temple all day, since every Thanksgiving when Mariah Carey's Christmas blasted through the house way too early. I knew it was my life, but it never struck me as a lifestyle.

Until that fateful day, December 5, 2003, that is. We had walked through a blizzard in Central Park. Our class had been up since 5 in the morning doing hell knows what and we were all exhausted. We warmed up in FAO Schwartz and later took in some theater. For most of my class, it was a warm place and they ended up dozing off. (I would like to say NOT because of the musical, but because of the exhaustion, but who really knows.) I sat on the edge of my seat the entire time. We were as far away as you could possibly be, but I was in awe nonetheless. From that moment on, I knew that nothing else would really matter to me. Nothing else has.

It is all that I want, but all that I know I won't put myself in front of to do. For that, seeing Idina at the ripe old age of 23, well, it hurt this time. She knows who she is. She can laugh at her insecurities and admit they are there. She knows that nothing matters (career-wise) other than music and she never thought twice about it being a lofty dream. She made it happen. I just see no way of doing that for myself.

I don't have her talent, of course, so maybe that makes a difference. Who knows? It was just one of those days that made me realize how strange and confusing this world is. How someone becomes famous and how much of a burden they hold, without even realizing the magnitude to which it exists. It is strange.

Ever since my accident, I've lost a big part of myself. I used to know something great would happen to me. It was never a question. Now, I just laugh at that notion, that child who had that notion. I laugh, and I forget that she used to be me. I miss her some days.

Soooo... Currently heading back from Atlanta. No luck with the cupcakes. Pictures and further spy stories to come. Got her autograph but the picture went awry. She told me she would get a picture with me and these two college gals ( who I am sure k ow her only from Glee, which is fine. Whatever. Im not bitter. ) totally bogarted my shot. I did crazily have my had on her back for too long. Whoops. Too quick and I just went blank and couldn't say anything I wanted to say. Depressing. Maybe we will be besties next year. Ha. Did meet me a cute boy toy prospect at a second city party before Idina's convert. Long story. He wanted me.

New plan. Going to start filming myself singing songs from Wicked. I will put said videos on youtube and you followers will make those popular. My plan is to be Elphaba in the movie version. I think my story from rags to riches will be much better than if they just put Lea Michele in there. Sigh. I really just want to sing.

Pictures from the trip soon. Videos of me singing, most likely in my car, also soon.

Music.

Singing along to Idina whilst working out on the treadmill is not a good idea, but singing to Idina whilst doing chocolate work was a great idea. I was having so much trouble, but I turned on my Idina on shuffle and it made me feel at ease...

For a few minutes anyway! Then, the pressure was on! I am terrible at chocolate. I am so rusty. Hopefully tomorrow will prove a better day. Who knows if she will even see the cupcakes, but they are going to be so good! My part has to be semi-decent.

Ahhhh... three days! I cannot wait to go! Only four days until the concert! I cannot wait to see Idina in person again. Yay!