Keep The Change You Filthy Animal

I've said it once and I'll say it again, times they are a changin'. Change is good, right? The reason I ask is because my life, in particular, is about to change in a major way. No, I am not "with child", nor am I going on a summer tour with my indie-goth band The Tampon's Revenge (although we will be playing at a feminist poetry reading at the local coffeehouse). I am currently in preparation to leave the only place, the only home, that I have ever known or loved. Are you happy now?

I have always belonged to the school of thought that change is imminent and therefore necessary. So tell me, why am I freaked out about something as simple as moving an hour & 45 minutes away? If proverbial wisdom is to be believed, then the saying "If we do not change our direction, we are likely to end up where we are headed" might provide me with solace during this confusing time in my life. However, I choose to seek comfort through other ingenious forms of enlightenment such as Nirvana Songs: "I feel stupid and contagious, here we are now, entertain us, a mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido, yeah."; The sweet Jewish man that always eats lunch at my favorite sandwich shop: "Quit staring at me and pass the sauerkraut you beady-eyed bitch"; and even commercial ditties: (singing)"At Shumaker Homes, we don't build houses, we build homes." It is these things along with a steady flow of bourbon & Newport Lights that is helping me through this difficult period. Okay, so it hasn't been that bad. I'm being dramatic as usual, but if I don't make a big deal about uprooting my life, then who will? Certainly not sweet, sauerkraut loving Mr. Morgenstein. I will be living in a town that is new, with a job that is new, a roommate that is new, making friends that are new, and crying boo-hoo, while sitting on a pew, listening to a cat go mew, wearing a pink tu-tu, while a dog takes a doo, chillin' with my crew, mad cows going moo .... oh sorry, what was I talking about? I got caught up in the rhyme. Anyway, these are the facts. Not to mention I haven't lived with a roommate in two years. I imagine the transition from living solo to waking up to another person every day isn't an easy one. Will it annoy her that I don't like to speak to people before 9:00 a.m.? Or that I sing really loud in the shower? Will she get upset when my My Little Pony dolls get cold and scared at night and want to come sleep in her bed? Or when the "ghost" comes and eats all of her Jel-lo Pudding Packs and Hot Pockets? These are questions that will inevitably be answered upon my arrival. But there is this thought in the back of my mind that maybe I shouldn't move at all. Maybe I should stay where I am and keep things the way they are. Maybe I secretly don't want change. And all of these questions lead up to the ultimate question, am I doing the right thing?

I have always been so independent. Never one to shy away from doing something on my own. Never one to lean on another. Always insisting on doing everything by myself, mainly as a matter of pride. I was the girl in college when you had the group project that did all the work. Remember her? You thought she was a control freak but you made nice so the stupid bitch would get the shit done. It wasn't because I liked doing the work, or even that I was responsible at the time, but it was because I didn't like the way anyone else did the work. Even if it involved me getting drunk, accidentally puking on the project, fixing it later and turning it in the day after it was due because I was too hungover to come to class, it would be done my way or the highway. Over the years I have slowly but surely learned how to let others help, but I am still a work in progress. So why all of the self-doubt about taking off on my own to a new city? It's just another project that I have to complete. However, on a scale of empowering pop-singers, I should feel like a Cher but I'm totally a Hilary Duff right now. Maybe it's because I still have two weeks left and it hasn't hit me? Or maybe because I'm really not as independent as I thought? Or maybe it's because I keep asking myself so many damn questions? Maybe what I should really be asking myself is, are you ready to say goodbye? I don't know the answer. I fear leaving and I fear staying. Regardless of my fears, I will miss the life I have known for the past 24 years. I will miss my family. I will miss my funny, irreplaceable friends. I will miss this shitty but loveable town that I live in, and the filthy dives that I return to every weekend. I will miss going home on Sundays for dinner, and hot sweltering summers which will be replaced by even hotter ones. I will miss the familiar faces that will soon be substituted by the faces of strangers. Strangers who will eventually become friends. Most of all, I will miss every single memory of this place. Every single one. No matter how treasured or terrible they may have been, it is the priceless memories that I will miss the most. This brings to mind a proverb I once heard: "In memory's telephoto lens, far objects are magnified......."

.........It also brings to mind something that sweet Mr. Morgenstein always says, "I swear to God if I find another piece of hair in my fucking Reuben I'm never coming to this fucking piece of shit sandwich shop again, you hear me?"

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Yes, things will certainly be different for me once I have a roommate. The carefree days of solidarity are over, my friend. The following are things that I did when I lived alone that I won't be able to do anymore:

- Bite my toenails, watch Oprah, and talk to Megan simultaneously.

- Hang my animal corpses in the closet to dry out.

- Proudly display my collection of Golden Girls memorabilia

- Listen to my Ray Stevens album collection on full blast

- Continue my illicit affair with Timothy the lawn guy

- Host my own American Idol: We're down to the final three, my washing machine, my hair dryer & my tea kettle. Maytag stole the show with her rendition of Patti Labelle's "On My Own" last night. Will she be voted off? America, only you can decide.

- Put on my doo-rag, sag my pants, use tin foil to make grillz, and have a rap-off with the Crepe Myrtle in the backyard:

"You nuttin' but a piece of wood - tryin' to act like you from da' hood - squirrels makin' babies on ya leaves - You rap so bad I call you Feder-Tree - Birds peckin' all up on ya, don't it hurt? - homey you need to get yo ass back in tha dirt... Awww yeee-ahhhh......"

- Pee in my kitchen sink

- Invite my support group over to the house, and cheer (and cry) whenever a member has had a "breakthrough"

- Do dramatic reenactments of US Magazine paparazzi shots

- Pay a neighborhood kid to come to my window at night and yell out, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

- Check out the message boards at www.barrymanilow.com. Yup, I'm a Fanilow

- Stare out of my peephole and pretend that I am the captain of a mighty submarine

- Photoshop myself into celebrity pics & hang them on the fridge. When visitors come over talk very matter-of-fact about them: “Oh yeah, Reese and I were like, trying to shop at Versace, but we were like, so totally bummed out by the paparazzi following us everywhere, and then Reese like, totally screamed at them, she can really be a bitch sometimes. So..... enough about me, how is grad school going?”

- Continue to keep Rodriguez, my Chilean man-slave/personal trainer/nutritionist, chained up in the basement.

- Hang the nude portrait of myself above the dining room table

- Lather myself in Tabasco and do my ritual "hot sauce mating dance"

- Scream bloody murder to see if anyone would have come had I really been beaten, bound, tortured, cannibalized & fed my own flesh

- Roll myself up in an area rug to create the "Human Burrito"

- Watch the neighbors have sex through my binoculars

- Yell at the neighbors for putting a restraining order on me for watching them have sex through my binoculars

- Pretend that I am shipwrecked on my coffee table and there is no escape in sight except for a piece of driftwood (a sock)

- Work on my autobiography: "The Toilet Affair: My Life With an Overactive Bladder"

- Buy a Seventeen magazine and read it with pride

- Feed my nail clippings to squirrels in the backyard

- Hurl my body down the stairs in an attempt to create grounds for a lawsuit, but fail desperately

- Work like I don't need money, love like I've never been hurt, and dance like no one's watching. This is what I do at home alone, but you might know it better as “The Gayest Quote Ever”

- Suck my fumb and cwy out for my mommy after a scawy dweam

- Shoot the school-children with my bb gun in the morning as they wait for the school bus, targeting the extremely dorky/ugly kids

- Crawl out my window and slide down the drainpipe to see if it really does work like in the movies

- Spend my days & nights in online chatrooms:

vaginagoddess245: hi there. i'm all alone
wangchungtonite: what r u wearing?
vaginagoddess245: the new nightie I just bought at Cato Fashion
wangchungtonite: come over and bring Scattergories, i'm feeling lucky

- Invite Annie the Trannie, a.k.a. my neighbor Greg, over for lasagna and girl talk

- Record songs onto a cassette tape using just my jam box and a Casio keyboard. In case you're wondering, my new album drops June 15th

- Practice what I would say to my baby-daddy should he ever leave me

- Hump my life sized teddy bear

- Create a shrine to my deceased Shi Tzu, Coco, complete with photos, a lock of her hair, recordings of her barking, her collar, her favorite chew toy, and a dried up turd

- Reenact Jack & Rose's final scene from Titanic in my living room. In this evening's performance, my couch will serve as the wooden door upon which Rose, played by me, lays cold and desperate in the icy Atlantic waters. Jack will be portrayed by my favorite Pier 1 throw pillow ... and cut to scene.... "I'll never let go Jack, I'll never let go"


What do you do when left to your own devices? Ever been home alone? If you did something more exciting than thwarting Joe Pesci's efforts to enter your home, tell me about it.