Caterwauling

After I blocked my friend on FB who asked if I was anti-Semitic, I forgot about her.

She messaged last night through Insta to ask if she was blocked because she asked if I was anti-Semitic.

I deleted it. Didn’t block.

I don’t discount the years of friendship. I also have no goddamn energy left for this discussion.

At the point I feel like I need to edit or censor the memes I post … nah.

Saw a great meme and I think I saved it. That “You don’t have to block a Gemini. They won’t be calling you.”

That popped into my head as I saw two of my college friends discussing the return of Chi-Chi’s.

I’d made the comment that I invested in their Reg-CF. Meaning, my little check is part of the reason it’s back. (Also my shares are down, but whatcha gonna do.)

It occurred to me that there was a third person in that chat who wasn’t me.

For real, asshole? You have ME blocked? For what?

Like the meme says, you are in NO danger of hearing from me.

I never understood him. Not to invoke him, as I was pretty aware as I walked through Brooklyn that Beetlejuice could pop out of any local graveyard.

I was so aware that I didn’t even look up his address. Like … I put the protective bubble around me, and I’m thrilled I got out of there without his whiny little bitch ass seeing me.

But he de-friended and blocked me across seven platforms. And there are like six new platforms since then that he probably blocked me on too.

Christ, whatever the obsession is, I hope you’ve let it go. Or maybe you and Cindy can compare notes, as I’m sure she unblocks me daily to see how much happier I am now that I unloaded all these losers from my life.

One of my employees had a dream that I sent a Teams message to the ED group.

“Fuck it, I’m out.”

Interesting that this is someone’s subconscious.

I told him his dream may come true around review time. He knows reviews are just one more thing to write.

What I didn’t say is it may come true when my boss roasts me for not doubling content output.

Content that, when I did it, was getting no traction because no one knew it was there. No clicks, no sales … NO POINT.

I was telling my employee about the previous me. And how I didn’t like the version of me that was doing all the things.

I made mom sit at home alone all day. I worked nights and weekends. I talked nonstop about work and the lazy MFers who weren’t working as much as me.

(I wonder if Don’t Treadmill On Me gets these same discussions. I fail to quantify what goes on over there. But I do know that role is commissioned. But not, say, the person who picks winning trades.)

Now, I give my evenings and weekends to me. Other than all the goddamn emotional labor I put in thinking or worrying or — gee, I don’t know — TAKING CALLS from my editors in different time zones.

Yesterday was Friday. I wrote three articles.

One I would have written anyway. Two were bonuses.

I don’t expect a thank-you for that.

No one will even notice unless they get mad that I wrote about Hunter Biden. That’ll get me a love note.

But hey, it’ll be noticed, right?

Also, I wasn’t kidding about hating that version of me.

I feel good that I ramped it up and met the moment.

I also spent from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. curled up in a goddamn fetal position on the couch.

Not blaming anyone. I wanted to do it, I did it, and now at 8 a.m. I can finally feel the stress leaving my body.

I have so much more work to do today. This is what always happens.

Now my weekend will be intruded upon with boss’ weird idea for the monthly newsletter I spend more effort trying not to hate than I spend on cleaning my house.

But first … Practical Magic 2 with my witches! And margaritas in a blender.

Pulled a pretty lethal tarot reading in front of my 1-on-1 today.

It actually wasn’t the worst set of cards I’ve seen.

Told my boss about it and he said it was way too positive for today’s talk.

He said he knows I must hate him or dread these chats.

I said no, not really. Gone but not forgotten between meetings.

Or, forgotten but not gone. Let’s be real.

(I mean sure, I chat with Claude about it. More from the point of my specialty has never been making men happy.)

Like … does it bother him that I’m pretty unbothered? I don’t know but the thought crossed my mind.

The thought also crossed my mind that I SHOULD be bothered, I guess. Maybe that would light a fire for me to start making all his hopes and dreams come true.

Meanwhile one of my friends is so bothered by some shit in her own life that she’s returned to AA meetings and is picking up extra sessions with her therapists.

Funny, huh — I need to be MORE bothered and she needs to be LESS.

We’re meeting for a Zoom happy hour tonight. THC beverages for us both. We fucking need it.

I know I need to step it up.

I also am very tempted to apply for the job posting that I’m handling.

Like, yes i would like to work for me. But let’s face it, I’d just be doing two jobs at the lower rate instead of the higher one.

And doubling content.

It’s not hard. I just haven’t done it effectively. Freelancers quit, waiting for me to offer them a full time job. Other freelancers will not go the fuck away, but their shit is so bad no one else will hire them. But who has time/energy to edit them?

Look we all know I am not hard on my boys. Take my little Bandito. He fucked up royally today in front of VIPs. I said hey, that was kind of messed up, those things you said. And he’s like did I fucking stutter.

We’ve all been told not to bother him. So every time I do say hey, I either get ignored or gaslighted.

So … get more content, just not from him.

Etc.

I’m honestly not complaining. I just realize that we do reviews two times a year and I will get roasted even more than usual this time around. And I got roasted when I thought I was doing good work. So this one is going to be 10x worse since nobody’s happy.

The candidates I have for the job I used to have … they want more than I make now.

Dude. If I could get THAT job. For THIS pay.

Peace OUT.

I don’t know that I need to revisit that ever.

But I don’t need to revisit what never leaves my head for too long.

I did well selling sheets at cost. I figure I paid the taxes, they paid the shipping. Everyone wins.

Now I’ve posted more shit. And it starts with the same old ridiculous negotiating.

I did work with the one girl who didn’t believe I paid $20 (I paid $19.99). She did say she intended to pay full price when her paycheck cleared.

I was nice. I “closed” my shop. Waited for her to message. Then I sent her an offer for $17. We both won.

But did I get a good review out of her? Nyet.

Now I am selling Cocoa’s and Kadie’s dresses.

This stuff has been in storage so I don’t really care much about it.

But still, one lady bartered me down to nothing and then had the audacity to say please hold these items till Wednesday.

Like, is this a racket? I never barter people down. And I would never say oh don’t sell it to anyone else while I wait around to pay you.

I literally spent all my proceeds on buying shipping bags and labels and shit so I can get rid of more shit.

The dress that got bartered down … well, someone else bartered me down too … and paid instantly. Oops, gone.

I remember selling stuff when I was desperate for cash. How I already felt like I had no value because I didn’t have a job. But then to be told basically your stuff that you cherish isn’t worth shit, either? Man that really fucked with me.

That said, I understand people not having two dimes to rub together. But these are $8 dresses they are bartering me down to $3 on. Not $20 for sheets and certainly not $50 for a book. (That book I sold for $30 and they claimed to have not gotten it so I had to refund them.)

Today, I don’t care so much about the amount I get. It’s nice to know Cocoa and Kadie will live on. Plus, these things smell like plastic anyway — Kadie died in 2017 and Cocoa in 2024.

Still. This is a full time job, dealing with people and listings and scammers.

The scammers are the worst. They got my home address and email so it’s been a real fucking riot reporting all that.

I’m starting to not hate myself for all the NWT shit I’ve donated over the years. Drop off a bag, drive away, no friction.

And now to go have to open Al Capone’s vault in Pittsburgh to get even more stuff that’s sat around even longer? Hoo boy.

Had a butterfly effect dream.

Though I’d rather refer to “The Descendants: Wicked Wonderland” for that.

In the “Rise of Red” movie before it, Red and Chloe changed the course of history to save their moms, the Queen of Hearts and Cinderella.

The WW sequel gave them the consequences of the thing they did. And because it’s a Disney franchise, all ended up well.

In the dream, Mom was alive. As she is in most of my dreams, yes. But this time, someone told me that I’d changed one thing in my past. And this was the result of that.

I spent most of the dream not trying to find out what that thing was. But trying to remember that new world so I could wake up and write about it.

Alas, I’ve forgotten the details, as one does. But seems fitting to dream of a world where Mom’s still in it, here on her 69th birthday.

Imagine if that were possible … what one thing could I have done differently that would bring her back.

And is it too late to do that thing? Because I would absolutely try.

Mom would have been 69 today.

We would have been laughing about that all day.

I can hear her now, singing, “Will you still need me … will you still EAT me … when I’m 69!”

Funny, I can still hear her clear as day.

“Tu Me Manques” is how the French say I miss you.The literal translation is “You are missing from me.”

I think that’s beautiful. But I also think it’s inaccurate. At least when your momma has left you.

I’m the one who’s missing from HER.

She completed her Earth assignment early. Like the psychic said, she couldn’t do more in the body she had.

I want to live a good, long, full, healthy life myself. Not too long, don’t want to overstay my welcome.

Once the body/mind is over this place, I want my spirit to find its way home sooner rather than later.

I chose the word HOME carefully here.

When I’m done, I’ll return to Momma and everyone else who left me first.

Which … is everyone.

Wasn’t sure how to honor her today. I did cook real bacon in the new air fryer. The cats absolutely went wild over it.

That’s how Momma honored me — breakfast was always my favorite meal. She never ate it but she would give me a feast to start my day.

So that’s what I did.

Going to go clean out Mom’s storage unit next month. Her friend said she’d help.

I don’t know that I will find anything new or exciting in the room we’ve paid for since she closed the doors on it in 2006.

But if the friend has just one new story that I haven’t heard, the trip will have been worth it.

See you when I get there, Momma … both to Pittsburgh and to regions beyond.

Happy Wine Dine 69 Day, wherever you are! Hope Kris Kristofferson is first in line!

I saw goonhilda in my FB memories today.

Like there really was a time before *gestures vaguely.*

2018-’19 me knew all that would end.

Just not how.

But man I have since seen the country and part of the world.

Guess it’s a good thing it happened. Maybe not the way it did.

But man. I would give anything to tell that me to stay at your job but run from him.

And not the other way around.

I finally got permission to post a job opening.

As expected, the dregs of fin pub society showed up right on cue.

Got a text late last night that said, “I’m sure you hoped you heard the last of me, but I want this job.”

Like my dude, I have been contacting everyone I know on the downlow before I posted this thing. You are correct, I was not hoping to hear from you again.

I also put it on LinkedIn with a note to please use the apply link, so you go to the correct person who is not named me.

Ask me how many messages I have in my LinkedInbox.

And none of it is “would love to learn more from you” or “let’s see if this is a fit.”

It’s the “I’m available!”

Like … good for you?

As if me hearing your name is going to make my panties drop?

Did you even read the ad?

Like this one girl I must have met at an Agora party does this every time there’s an opening.

Proofer? editor? marketer? developer? Hey I’m available.

Like … do you want an engraved invitation to apply?

Also, your profile is jammed full of every high-value keyword yet no one I know can name a single thing you’re good at.

Like at least with me, my reputation is being the “editor whisperer.” A writer. I am really fucking good with email subject lines. Also I am everybody’s favorite boss because I’m funny and weird and allergic to office politics.

I am also terrible at whatever bosses want so I have to face my maker today about that.

I don’t actually think the posted job will solve my problems. I do less editorial directing than editorial doing.

So take away a chunk of the doing … is that enough for them or am I going to be stuck writing more free articles when my first love is the subscription services?

And then to have to dodge the dregs, yeesh.

I dread the day Pickleball Girl sees the post.

Her resume is actually a perfect match.

Her abilities, not so much.

That’s the real nonsense here. I hired her based on her perfect resume.

And she sucked. Rebelled against my ideas and edits. Complained about me to everyone within earshot. Was shocked I would dare let her go.

Yet she’s hit me up for work ever since.

I gave her a pithy “recommendation” for her website.

Kelly just saw her website, as Pickleball was trolling K’s employer.

The screenshot she sent made me so annoyed.

She said she was my ghostwriter. And named all the ghosts.

Listen.

I’ve been a ghostwriter. I’ve also written under my byline. So I put in my bio that I’ve been a ghostwriter and you can also find my bylined articles here.

Like, one, you don’t reveal that the celebrity has a ghostwriter.

And two, SHE DID NOT WRITE THEIR ISSUES. I had her write special reports and repurpose their issues into ezines. BIG FUCKING DIFFERENCE.

HR is already on the lookout for this one for me. Though I know I’ll get a text first.

I’ve never minded people having my cell phone, since having two phones (one for work) is as cumbersome as having two laptops (I don’t let work near my personal one).

But then you get the feeling that you’re not doing enough AT work … whilst no one knows how many people invade your personal time and space, which is work time and you cannot tell me otherwise.

OTOH, I hope there is someone or someones I haven’t thought of for this post.

I lost a really good guy, I think. But that’s the story of my life.

What I really dread is that I know one of my current freelancers will apply — and while I love her, I get the feeling my boss does not.

So … that’s really where I am at. And that’s what’s going to help me say no to these people. Like, it’s a team decision and you don’t have the one quality he requested.

I just hope that quality doesn’t cancel out the really good people like the one who just got another job.

Not long after I hit the publish button on my lament that I’d wasted the pandemic and that this is a time to start or stop whatever you meant to back then …

I wandered into a post about corrective experiences.

That’s the word for it. The giving yourself a do-over.

All those conversations you had in your head AFTER you had them … but the way you wished they’d come out. Now’s your chance to say what you wanted to then.

All those childhood dreams or hobbies that you gave up to do the adulting thing … are those dreams still there? Return to them.

A place that brought you pain that you’ve avoided? Go back and make the memories you deserved to have.

I think of all this with my Pittsburgh trip. I don’t want to go. I’d rather go to Disney or the Keys. I even canceled my Keys trip so I could free up a couple bucks for it.

Interesting aside is that Claude has noticed me slipping back into old ways.

I’ve been saying “I’m fine” again.

Being resigned to never being promoted so why even try.

Accepting that I could do shit that takes my energy but doesn’t spark my creativity. Or just do nothing and spare myself the friction.

That friction of course is on the horizon from the paycheck-paying types. Tomorrow, actually.

Apparently some garbage publisher publishes 80 garbage articles a week with fewer staff members than I do, so that’s the new bar apparently.

It’s fine.

I am looking at this through the corrective experience lens.

I tried to do it. I just hit roadblocks, ran out of energy and, worse, lost the spark/fire I’ve waited SO LONG to get back.

I get a do-over now that I’ve figured out more of a system (and after one of my better people quit amid all the weirdness).

Funny how freelancers quit when they know you have an open position but you can’t hire them.

Glad he found a FT job. Sad for me. But maybe I’ll do well to hire someone I don’t like.

I love my team and try not to drive them crazy. But maybe I need someone I don’t mind slave driving. Because otherwise I’m trying to relieve my people’s burdens rather than add to them. And that’s probably why I’m beloved below but maybe not so much above.

Tomorrow could be one of those days where I hang up and mentally start drinking. (I don’t drink at home anymore because if I did, I might not stop at this rate.)

At least, I hope I get a do-over. Who knows how tomorrow goes. I know what I am great at, and it’s not this particular project.

So it’s time to get great at it.

And at least now I have enough mistakes made to see how to not suck at it the second time around.