‘It’s time we all reach out for something new …’

May 2nd, 2016, 9:15 AM by Goddess

I posted a video of Evanescence covering “Purple Rain” over at Faceypages. Go watch.

It’s public, so you don’t have to be my friend. Unless I’ve blocked you. In which case, sucks to be you.

That cover/song is my everything.

It’s not that Prince was my all-time favorite artist. But he was a constant for the ’60s- and ’70s-born set. No party was complete without him. Every heartbreak could find solace in his songs. He was just THERE for all of it.

“I never wanted to be your weekend lover.
I only wanted to be some kind of friend.
Baby I could never steal you from another.
It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.”

I don’t even need to look up those lyrics. I’ve sung that song a million times to a half-dozen different people. In my mind, anyway.

I got to thinking about someone as I listened and recorded and tried not to bawl. Because, holy shit Amy Lee is A-MA-ZING.

Maybe it was the culmination of someones and my brain was putting together its own video reel as I listened and tried not to collapse from the hundred-degree heat and the thousand-degree fire inside my heart.

But it always seems like I find relationship-oriented people. Just not when it comes to me.

It’s OK. I’m less of a relationship type than any of them. Maybe they figured that out about me long before I did.

Doesn’t stop the occasional moment of “what if” from punching me in the face, though.

Luckily I’m only black-and-blue on the inside. And you’ll never know I’m missing you so much right now, I can’t even breathe.

And “you” is a surprising mix of three people I never, ever thought I’d think that about. Independently or all at once.



Why I love Sunfest

May 2nd, 2016, 6:00 AM by Goddess

Well other than getting to see Evanescence rock the house last night …


Last Sunfest, we had just parted ways with some folks at work. Projects that took 45 hours a week, on top of my regular duties, were suddenly gone. 

It was a weekend of celebration then. And now. 

I wrapped up four projects, the worst of which I wrapped up on Friday. And one of those projects used to mean I had to wake up at 5 am on Mondays.  No more. 

Granted my body woke me up anyway today. But it’s ok. Coffee and WW Connect filled that space. 

And damn, guess who walked 20 miles this weekend at the festival? This girl!!!!



Psychological socialist

May 1st, 2016, 10:16 AM by Goddess

There’s this Connect feature on the Weight Watchers app. I love it because it’s a positive version of Facebook. Instead of people dumping on you because you like Hillary Clinton or you think the idea behind “Me-ternity leave” is a fair one, everyone cheers you on through good and bad.

Unfortunately there is an abundance of sad and negative posts. I mean, I get it. People feel alone and want to binge — or DO binge — and need/deserve encouragement. I don’t post those things but it is nice to see that I’m not the only one who drank ALL THE WINE last night.

I’ve noticed a trending hashtag, #keepconnectpositive. People posting pics with their dogs, or scenery they saw on their hike or screenshots of hitting their 10,000 daily steps on Fitbit.

In other words, keep yo shit to yo-self. Maintain the community.

People are talking about losing jobs, losing houses, losing family members — losing anything but weight.

It’s hard to look at. And as some cunt said to me about thinking the “Me-ternity leave” idea is something that I personally wouldn’t mind hearing more about, “You don’t HAVE to buy baby gifts.” Mother of the year, that one. Compassion much for a gal who has OTHER things to deal with that aren’t baby-related and therefore not as high a priority to others?

Anyway.

This is one of those “do I keep mah shit to mah-self” moments — where I only talk about how much fun I had watching Salt & Pepa and Rick Springfield at Sunfest yesterday — or I say what’s really on my mind?

Here’s what happened for anyone who feels like reading on …

I was driving to Sunfest and I saw an animal in the street that was clearly hurt. I think its back legs had been run over. It was tiny — I thought it might have been a rat but in hindsight it could have been a gray kitten.

As I approached (probably at 40 mph. I drive my age), I could see terror in its eyes and it tried to move but couldn’t.

I was lucky enough to swerve and miss her completely. But what about the cars coming after me?

I wanted so badly to pull over and pull that creature to safety. Get it help or let it die in peace.

And I thought, oh my god. This is how it happens. Some Good Samaritan dives into traffic to save a wounded animal and the hoomin gets kilt.

If you’ve seen all the crackheads in jalopies around here, you’d get my fears.

I didn’t “turn that car around.” (Oh yeah I did see OAR too since ZZ Top dropped out. Rockville REPRESENT.

And I have felt like SHIT since.

What if that was my kitty? That IS my momma. Nobody fucking cares but me about her and I am helpless there too.

But it brings up a bigger regret I have in life.

I used to help everyone, to the point there was nothing left for me. Not so much anymore. Going out of my way ain’t my thing these days.

Don’t get me wrong. I pray for anyone and everyone. I forgive my enemies. I love the people I meet from afar. I want a world filled with fortune and happiness for anyone who wants it. Call me a psychological socialist, if you will.

But that kitty, man. She was everyone and everything I maybe COULD have helped and didn’t. She was Maddie, Gram, Grampy, Old Gram, Aunt Lenna and my mom. She was Russell and every homeless person I had to walk or drive past. She was me after every misfortune with money and career and love.

She was helpless and just needed someone to give a shit. And I wanted to be that person. But not enough to do it.

I think most of you would say I did the right thing. That someone would have probably killed her within two minutes and put her out of her misery. That my momma needs me and I can’t afford to be hurt or dead or paralyzed for life or bitten by a frightened creature.

That some wild or runaway animal wasn’t worth my time or tears.

Well. Thanks. But that won’t stop me from remembering her terror or crying oceans because I didn’t do anything to stop it.

There were 12 brand-new baby duckies at my place. I think they all got killed while I was in Lake Buena Vista last week. I can’t find any of them. And I feel like maybe I attracted danger to them by feeding them. They trusted humans, which is never a good idea here. So, I’m not feeling the winning there either even though I tried to help.

One other thing while I’m not keeping things positive.

I was walking across the railroad tracks on my way to get some wine last night. And I thought, maybe I have seen enough of this life. I don’t mean I am going to lie down on the tracks or anything. I just had the sense that maybe if I’m not going to do anything great in this life, maybe I’ve already served my purpose.

I don’t know. I do have a band and fireworks to look forward to tonight. But I also have more urgent landlord issues and healthcare issues. (I tried to get mom coverage and I have threats every day for the past two months from the feds, the insurer and the underwriter for whatever forms I turned in or didn’t turn in and she needs help and did I mention FUCK OBAMACARE?)

Anyway. I do love this life. But there ain’t enough sleep you can get when your soul is what’s bone-tired.



Beautiful stranger 

April 27th, 2016, 7:44 PM by Goddess

Maybe it’s the wine talking. But I feel like I just met a potential soulmate. 

To be clear, I don’t believe in one true love. If I’m being honest, I don’t know where I stand on love at all. 

But I was walking behind two pinheads in ill-fitting suits who didn’t bother holding the door for me at the stairwell of our parking garage. 

I grabbed the door, and saw a good-looking guy standing there. I waved him out and he said me first. (Gentleman!) 

I felt like he saw my soul when he looked at me. And I felt in that moment that I had traversed oceans to meet this man.

We smiled and went about our separate journeys. But I felt forever changed after that moment. 

I often feel that my path is to work all day and return to my mother every night and weekend of my life. Then work some more to pay for that life. 

So to have a moment of magic, wow. 

Magic is still meant for me. I had forgotten what it felt like.  I’d forgotten that it’s something I had always believed was meant for me before she moved in nine years ago. That my destiny isn’t to just be worker/daughter/worrier-in-chief. 

Thank you, handsome stranger. 



Cascading disasters

April 26th, 2016, 9:54 PM by Goddess

A friend up in PA used that phrase today to describe her day. I am shamelessly stealing it to describe mine. 

It’s been a long time since I stormed down to the “far” Starbucks. A year to the week, in fact. 

I found myself wishing that I could pop a Plan B pill and it could change most of my life decisions that led me to this point. 

While I was at the “not the closest” Starbucks, I read a great blog post from my favorite psychic, Erin Pavlina. She had a dream where one of her guides showed her what the outcomes would have been had she made different choices. It was riveting. 

The takeaway was that there were happier outcomes and sadder ones. But the one life she might have loved most was the one where she followed her happiness with each choice.

They struck me. That HAUNTS me.

It reminded me of somehimg I read the other day. I can’t recall what it was but I’m sure I bookmarked it somewhere. 

Basically it said that even if you make OK choices, life gets you anyway by crushing you under the weight of others’ life choices. Like if you’re responsible for, or otherwise affected by substance abuse or suicide or parents who just never took care of themselves and can’t anymore. (*Cough*)

When things get stressful at home, I tell myself it’s a choice. The universe isn’t forcing me to do this. I choose my life. 

And usually it’s a good choice. It distracts me from what feels like a never-ending toll, paying for the sins of the fathers. And especially the mothers. 

But then you have a set of cascading disasters … and you realize you could very well hang yourself with your “happiness thread” … and you recognize that don’t want the wrong things to change.

I was reading something about how you have to figure out what you’re willing to sacrifice for happiness. Want to travel and enjoy your life? Good for you. But do you want to be great in business? Then give up those nights and weekends with a smile. Want to be a mom? Learn to enjoy vomit on your clothes. 

I thought of that this weekend. Do I want to lose 125 vacation days every five years? No. But do I want an Amex and the ability to pay off my trip within a week? Hell yes. 

So, what’s a little fury that can be walked off by taking the long walk to Starbucks so you can take that extra 10 minutes to cool off?

I also got to thinking about a choice I wish I could undo. Michael Strahan interviewed for and accepted a position without telling his friend/boss Kelly Ripa. She’s understandably furious about how the news was delivered (in a meeting). 

People say well, the job market is improving. No one needs to tell their boss shit anymore.

Here’s the thing. I wish, when I finally want to search, that I could be honest. I didn’t just leave jobs or bosses. I left TEAMS. And no amount of notice changes the fact that you are breaking the dynamic. 

And I wish this were a world where people felt safe saying they are stuck or burned out or up for a challenge they can’t find. 

Back in the day, people would help you find your way. I see it from time to time with the Solitaires and Soccer Balls to the Skull of the world. They generate enough pity or sympathy that everyone realizes you can’t throw these bear cubs into the wild because they wouldn’t survive. So you clean their cages till they finally fall over even though they died 15 years ago. 

I don’t want to be them. My thread is tugging me away from that.  I just don’t know if I would deserve grace when I’m so unwilling to give it sometimes.  

Unlike the Betnie Bros, I know the world don’t owe me shit. He can attack soulless corporations all he wants … and the employees of those big bad companies can say their companies gave up on them … and they might all be right. 

But at some point people give up right back. Some people. Soccer Ball to the Skull people. And pretty soon you’re all just a salary and overhead rather than someone who is kicking the ball. 

Or maybe you become Michael Strahan and float out on a yacht while the bridges are burning behind you. Even if you didn’t start the fire, someone else always has to put it out. 

I wonder if my happiness thread got singed along the way. And how I’m going to meet the people who can help me weave it back together again.