I just wanted to eat my cookie.

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A Homeless Man at My Audition

At least I think he was homeless. He sure seemed like he was, but how assuming of me. Because he had lots of clothes on and strange thick glasses over beady eyes and wild thinning black hair, I think he's homeless? OK, maybe not homeless, but surely crazy. He sat on a bench inside the building and stared at people, stared at me, for extremely long periods of time, periodically roaming around the room, sitting back down, staring, smiling his vacant half-smile. He was odd. But then, most actors are odd, so I first gave him the benefit of the doubt. Guess he thought there might be a part for him in "Marcy in the Galaxy," the musical. I had no idea what "Marcy in the Galaxy" was all about, save for what the casting call described. Maybe there was a crazy beady-eyed character in "Marcy in the Galaxy."

That's what I thought until I sat behind him in the audition line. It was his time to go into the room. He had given a headshot to the monitor. That's the only way he got on the line. The person before him had gone in, had sung, and had come out. She was finished, and it was his turn. But he didn't go in. He just sat there next to me as I looked at him. He looked straight ahead with his vacant expression. No book of music. He held nothing. Finally I spoke up. "I think you can go in, sir."

"Oh. Yeah."

So he went in, with no music for the accompanist to play. He shuffled in and closed the door and I waited. We all waited. We all listened.

Ten quiet seconds passed before us. We stared at the door. We heard nothing. Ten seconds, and the door opened. Beady eyes shuffled back out of the room and wandered off. Off to where, who knows?

It was my turn. I walked into the audition room and over to a stunned accompanist and a bewildered casting director. We looked at each other wide-eyed. I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't help it. I laughed. They laughed.

"I don't know what that was all about," I said.

The casting director shook his head. "I thought I was being punked or something."

I sat my music on the piano in front of the accompanist. "Well, whatever you do," she said, "it'll be better than that."

I wouldn't mind a crazy homeless man showing up at auditions more often.

Caution: Proactive Provides Damaging Solutions

This is the stuff I use to wash my face. As you can very well see, Jessica Simpson uses it, too. At least she says she does. At least she makes bazookoos of money saying she does. But, I'm wondering...does it bleach Jessica's eyebrows, too?

A curious phenomenom is occurring on my face. The very top of my eyebrows (usually brown, naturally to match my hair) are turning bleach blond. But it's just the top of my eyebrows. So right now my eyebrows are somewhat two-toned.

I first noticed this about two months ago when talking to Seth. As he pretended to listen to me ramble on about whatever, his focus kept shifting from my eyes to my eyebrows. I finally stopped to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

Seth furrowed his own brow, ultimately perplexed. "Your eyebrows are changing colors."

"My eyebrows are changing colors?"

He studied my eyebrows intensely. "Yeah, just the top."

"What?" I reached for the mirror in my bag. "Oh, weird. Yeah, they're changing colors. Maybe's its the way the sun hits them in New York when I have my sunglasses on." (Hey, it was the best I could come up with.)

I resumed telling my story, but not without intermittent pauses as I waited while Seth sat distracted by my eyebrows.

Then, as I talked to my mom on a recent visit to Oklahoma, she stopped me mid-sentence and moved closer to examine my face.

"Amber, did you know your eyebrows are changing colors?" she asked, quite concerned. Then she laughed.

"OK. This is ridiculous. Yes, I know my eyebrows are changing colors. Is it that bad?"

Later my mom called. She had an idea. What if my facewash that I've been using for the past...oh...6 years or so has been accidentally getting into my eyebrows all this time, and now the effects are showing. And sure enough, as I washed my face that night, I saw that my facewash has been dripping into the top of my eyebrows...for 6 years!

So I'm wondering if Jessica has this problem, too, and what she's doing to remedy it. I don't want to change my facewash. I like it. It works. But I can't go walking around with two-toned eyebrows. Jessica, you're the only one who can help. Save me. What do I do?

Can't Sleep

Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep.

Can't sleep.

I'm trying a new cure for insomnia. Type the same words over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

I think it might be working. I'm getting sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired

It's an alternative to counting sheep. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Except that I'm sitting up at the computer so I won't be able to just fall asleep.

Sleep is a funny thing. I mean, isn't it weird that we just have to shut down for hours at a time. That we're still alive but our whole body is unconscious. Shut down to such a degree that I don't even hear things or remember things, except for dreams of course. And those are weird too. That my whole being is barely conscious but my subconcious is creating something in my mind. Crazy. What if right now I were sleep-typing instead of sleep walking or something? No, I'm not. I promise. Just can't sleep.

I've been having insomnia for about a week now. I hate it. At least I usually get to sleep pretty late in the morning. Which always makes me feel like a lazy ass, but I've reconciled that by now. I'm a musician and that's just how it goes. Musicians get sleep late passes. It's just how it goes. Has anyone ever heard that Ben Folds song, "Not Tired." That is one rad song. He played it at the John Floofyhair concert, but I also heard him play it with the Houston symphony and that was friggin amazing.

OK, so I'm gonna try to go to sleep again. G'night.