Caterwauling

Too busy to post. Or, for that matter, to form a thought. But doing better (mentally) overall, so put that one in the “plus” column.

Anyway, this is the latest song in heavy rotation. Enjoy!

Catie Curtis, “Troubled Mind”

I am glad the Olympics are over, as “Medium” is on tonight again. Yay!

However, I am bummed that it’s not an “American Idol” night. Because EVERY night should be an “Idol” one. I am just jonesing to see Chris Daughtry (who sang “Wanted Dead or Alive” last week. *drool*). Sure, maybe I was just hot for him because I am stuck in the ’80s hot for Jon Bon Jovi, but the boy’s a cutie. I mean, last week, I was throwing my underwear at the TV when he was on. Problem was, I was still in them!

Reader Poll Monday:

1. What is your absolute favorite website?
Grey Matter, the official “Grey’s Anatomy” blog

2. What would you do if all of the sudden, that website were blocked by the government?
I’d still have the TV show, although I’d twitch from withdrawal during the week between episodes!

3. Do you regularly wear perfume/cologne?
Angel by Thierry Mugler and Euphoria by Calvin Klein are my two in heavy rotation these days

4. How many hours of sleep do you usually get each night?
Not a lot. I fall asleep right away but somehow kick off all my covers and notice it around 3 or 4 a.m. I’d say I can get a good four hours on average.

5. When is the last time you made whoopee?
Whoopee! Hah! Is it terrible that I can’t remember when?!?! I just know that I’d had better and sort of got turned against the thought of it after that particular odyssey. Like, Meredith-and-George (on last night’s “Grey’s”) bad. (Good lord, didn’t that hurt to watch?)

6. If forced to choose, would you rather have a tattoo covering most of your face or have blue skin?
Blue skin would probably hurt a lot less to acquire. And I could always cover up with tan in a can.

7. Do you like pickles?
LOVE pickles

8. Are you comfortable in social situations where you don’t know anyone?
Those are the only social situations I’m ever in, and quite honestly, I love interacting with strangers. Good mix of intimacy (as in, I don’t care what they think of me) and distance (because the interaction time is finite). I’ve done a lot of years in sales and don’t think I’m too terrible at it.

9. Coke or Pepsi?
Diet Coke, but real Pepsi.

10. Ask me something.
Funniest online dating adventure?

Da BurghOriginally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

In the past 60-odd days, I’ve been in Nevada, Colorado, Minnesota, New York, Maryland, Virginia, D.C. and Pennsylvania, not to mention that I traveled through Jersey and Delaware.

But by far, the most aesthetically pleasing place is Pittsburgh. Here’s the first thing you see when you emerge from the Fort Pitt Tunnels. (*aaah*)

I feel nostalgic for the city, even though it’s not my home anymore and hasn’t been for some time now. I guess I really don’t feel like I belong anywhere at this time and place in my life, and home will be wherever I make it.

I shot up to town to see my grandfather to surprise him on his 80th birthday on Friday. I sat down next to him in a restaurant and scared the shit out of him — only Mom knew I was coming.

It was good seeing the family. To say I’m lonely and disconnected from humanity where I am right now in my life and location is an understatement. It’s good to be reminded that while my journey seems to be like a solitary one for now, I always have somewhere to go to remind myself of who I am.

While I might never live in Pittsburgh again, to me it’s the place that would take me back in a heartbeat should I ever change my mind. Luckily, a simple whirlwind visit holds healing powers enough to tide me over, so I’m glad to have a reason to return occasionally … and to leave again when I’m ready.

MarquisElevator

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

The elevators in the Marriott Marquis made me overcome my fear of escalators in a huge hurry because the elevator bank had its own rush hour every day — trying to pop into your room on the 27th floor required a good 25 to 40 minutes of combined wait time in each direction. I swear, if I could’ve taken a cab upstairs, I would have!

Speaking of cabs, we had a great dinner at Shula’s, just up the street. As we didn’t have an hour to grab coats, we cabbed it the whole block and a half. LOL. On the way back, we were brave and decided to run through the COLDEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR without any winter coverings. I myself was in a skirt, tank top and a blazer, so when the wind chill was -7 degrees, you can bet I was a Dawnsicle. *Brr*

Anyway, I have a story. (I always do!) I was ripping past The New York Times building and trying to fly across the street onto Broadway when I almost fell over this woman in a wheelchair who was trying to go the opposite direction. Now, on a normal day, I would step back and let her go first. But that night? Holy Christmas no. I almost went ass over teakettle over her chair (as I didn’t see her!), so I literally leaped ahead and did the world’s most half-assed apology ever spoken: “Sorry, but you have a coat!”

I’d say I’m going to burn in hell, but that’s OK. At least it’s warm there!

Back in the day, I used to love to blog about “American Idol” and the triumphs and seeming injustices of it all, but the bottom line was that I was in love with the “characters.” From Simon to Randy to all of the contestants, I identified “my” winners early on and cheered them on till the end.

That said, I am lovin’ me some Mandisa this season. Unless she does a horrible performance (and I highly doubt it), she’s got my text-message vote till the end of time.

Simon had been a dick about her after her audition. And when she made it to the finals, she had an opportunity to confront him about it. She did so with grace, poise, dignity and CLASS. I fell more in love with her than ever before.

She rocked SOCKS the other night when she performed. In fact, I only managed to stay awake to watch her and Kellie Pickler, as I was exhausted from travel and actually BORED by everyone else who followed them that night.

I was talking to my best friend about her today. We were raving about her inner calm and her outer showmanship. And we expressed a lot of envy about her confidence. The whole thing about Simon insulting her was based solely on her size, and she doesn’t let that matter to her. She went to him and said she FORGAVE him for what he said. She admitted that she’d felt very hurt by his words but that she could move on from it. And that totally won his respect … and my admiration.

She reminds me very much of me — an earlier version of me, though. She dresses how she wants, she emanates passion and excitement and originality, and she isn’t afraid to be herself. I try to be that way even now, but there’s such a layer of trepidation anymore that I’m having a hard time shaking off.

My friend and I were talking about how we are always overflowing with ideas and motivation and that we want people to sit up and take notice of us — to see us as well as listen to us. But the years have corroded our respective self-images so much that we’ve sort of become afraid of being seen. I think there’ve been so many instances of us being seen and not being taken seriously that we just keep our brilliance and magnitude to ourselves. And maybe no one would expect any just by looking at us. Boy, are they wrong if that’s true.

If you look at ‘Idol’ contestants, you’ve got the butterfaces with good voices, the pretty people with OK voices and then the so-called “underdogs” who don’t supposedly look like traditional pop stars but who can, as an old boss of mine used to say, “SANG!” But really, those in the last category are gorgeous on the inside, and with the right training and encouragement, it comes to the forefront and transforms said budding star into an actual star.

It’s always been my belief that there is beauty in everyone and everything. Even though I’ve (of late) stopped including myself in that general statement. I’ve sort of lapsed into an oblivion of feeling small and insignificant and maybe even not worthy of notice, and while I’m not exactly OK with it, it is what it is and I’ve figured it’s just a phase.

The thing is, after you’ve heard enough voices tearing you apart, you learn to anticipate what they’re going to say and you end up with those evil little voices chanting within you — preparing you for the worst. Problem is, you rehearse them so often that they can become all that you hear above the quiet yet strong voice beneath it that would lift you up to where your spirits should be.

But you can’t keep me down for very long. Rather recently, my mind somehow rewired itself and made me really, truly want — I don’t know — *something.* And maybe what’s popped into my head is what I want and maybe it’s what I’ll get, but god, just to have some kind of dream to hold on to, however unrealistic and/or unattainable it might be right now — it’s like my psyche threw me a life preserver.

Sometimes I get scared to dream. Like, what if I get my hopes up? Can I stand to be shattered again? Should I just lapse into a fog and not really want anything so I won’t have yet another disappointment to overcome?

And then, I mentally kick myself and think about my novels that would go unwritten, the poetry that would never evolve into a verse, the potential creativity and love and contributions to this world that would go unrealized. I have to sometimes force myself to stop saying, “It’ll never happen” and reprogram myself to say, “It hasn’t happened YET.”

I always say, “Speak it into existence.” Want something? Go after it. Picture it. Envision what you’ll be wearing, what you’ll say, what sensory influences will mark the moment when you finally achieve your milestone. Don’t be afraid to dream … instead, be afraid of all the great things you’d miss out on by squelching your wildest thoughts.

Achievement begets greater achievements. And if we’re so dead-set against others holding us back, why do we hold OURSELVES back?

So, until I finish gathering the irreverent strength that I know is hiding within me somewhere (as I’ve seen it before and need to dust it off), I will be cheering on Mandisa as she takes advantage of her chance to set the world on fire in any way she can.

My turn is coming next, I can feel it in my soul and my bones. I might not be on a nationally televised stage, but hey, you never know what can happen. The first step is re-emerging from my self-inflicted shell. The second step can be as far of a leap as I’m ready to make. …

Via Tiff, a treasure trove of earthly delights — the “Grey’s Anatomy” blog!

Some insights from Shonda Rhimes about the recent two-part episode with the patient with the bomb in his chest and Meredith was holding the bomb to keep it from exploding and blowing up half the hospital:

The last thing I want to say about this episode has to do with Meredith. Because all she really wants is some kind of reason to live. I’ve heard a lot of talk about Meredith being whiny but the truth is, she’s got a mom with Alzheimer’s, no other family to speak of, and the man she loves is married. She’s pretty freaking lonely, people. She’s got a right to get her whine on. So, when she falters, when she doesn’t want to pull her hand out of Mr. Carlson, it’s partly because she’s got nothing to hang on to. As she says in the first episode, she needs a reason to go on, she needs some hope. Which is why she has to picture Derek to get through it. And at the end, when he shows up at her house (and he shows up just to see for himself that she is alive), she has to ask. She has to ask him about their last kiss because if she’s ever going to get out of that bed again and keep going, she needs a reason. She needs to know there’s someone out there for her. She needs some hope. And Derek (can Patrick Dempsey be any more amazing?) describes that last kiss, the last kiss they had as a happy couple, in such perfect detail that Meredith knows she’ll be okay. Because he wouldn’t remember that kiss so well if he didn’t love her. He couldn’t. It’s her sign.

Jesus Christ, it’s like she described MY life. … (*sob*)

TimesSquare

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

Just a quickie shot of Times Square from the ol’ camera phone.

D.C. so totally sucks as a city in comparison to Manhattan. I like having the ability to be alone but not lonely in NYC — there’s always someplace to go and always with companionable coexisting on the bustling city streets.

We had some terrific food while we were there, but the most memorable was Benito’s II in Little Italy, where one member of our party has been going for upward of two decades, so we were treated like family and stuffed to the gills with a seven-course meal containing the likes of veal parmigiana, manicotti and tiramisu — not to mention the many glasses of Amarone.

Like one esteemed colleague commented, it’s nice to enjoy wonderful meals with the company, because when we return to D.C., we go back to ordering dinner from the clown’s mouth.