Caterwauling

Lachlan did a lovely post awhile back on “What I’ll Remember.” And the reason why I fell in love with it was because it was neither about the bad stuff nor about the milestone events that are supposed to be significant.

For her, the things that made her into the beautiful, strong woman she is today can be attributed to the moments that take up residence in the memory — random, ordinary, seemingly insignificant moments — and those are the ones that a lifetime of “other” events cannot corrode the impact of.

And at a time when I need to hang on to all the hope I can, I wanted to share some of mine. But even if I can’t share the details that make these the moments I cannot erase from my mind, know that I’m smiling to myself as I type.

In no particular order, separated by song lyric:

“We ran off to the corn field
Just outside the county fair
There were butterflies in my stomach
And fireflies in the air.”

– Sarah Buxton, “Innocence”

I’d gone to happy hour with some colleagues, several jobs ago, and had left with my non-work friend to go elsewhere. But I had left my phone behind and the colleagues had changed bars.

I called the phone only to find out the guy I had a mad, mad crush on was in possession of it. He told me where to meet him. I walked to him — it was one of those “walking across a crowded room” scenarios where there was no one else in my line of vision.

We didn’t exchange a word — he handed me the phone, our fingers grazed, our eyes locked and I left. And yes, he came over to my place several hours later.

“And there you are on the fence
With those lips I could spend a day with.”

– Amy Millan, “Skinny Boy”

Long ago and far away, I can’t get the look in his eyes out of my mind. And I will never know what it really meant or how I was supposed to respond.

It reminds me of Patrick Dempsey’s “Dr. McDreamy,” especially how Chandra Wilson’s “Miranda Bailey” described him in a nutshell: “Lots of hair, too many women, likes elevators and long walks on the beach.”

Oh, to go back and do things over again. But was there really a “right” thing to do?

Cryptic much?

“Well, for all the miles between us
And for all the time that’s passed
You would think I haven’t gotten very far
And I hope my hasty heart
Will forgive me just this once
If I stop to wonder how on earth you are.”

– Trisha Yearwood, “The Song Remembers When”

Another work thing, although we remained friends long after we exited that horrible place. He went on to get married and have two beautiful children, and yet both of us sort of committed to wondering for the rest of our lives if we weren’t leaving something special behind.

I remember I was having a birthday party at my place, and he and my two friends Kristin and Steve were the last ones standing. Kristin and Steve were awesome, awesome people. They decided to leave so I could be alone with my friend.

We were thrilled to have that time alone. We went in to kiss each other and *bam.* Holy shit, we cracked skulls and probably chipped some teeth. It was awful!

So we gave up on that pretty quickly and sat around chatting. We eventually migrated outside to sit on my front steps, just holding on to each other for what seemed like five minutes but had to be hours.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kristin’s car. And the bushes next to it (we had to parallel-park on my street) were moving.

Hmm.

Anyway, the boy and I said goodbye, and when he drove away, out popped Kristin and Steve from behind the damn bushes! They were walking bowlegged as they ran to me to hug me — they had gone for a drink across the street and were walking back to her car when they saw us. And they didn’t want me to see them pulling away lest I think they were spying. So they sat in my neighbor’s hedges for however long we were outside. Ha!

I never did see the boy again. We e-mailed and talked here or there, but that night was the end of an era.

“There’s things I remember and things I forget
I miss you I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away
But what would you change if you could?”

– Counting Crows, “Raining in Baltimore”

I have lots of memories, but the details are fuzzy. But when I try to think about times when I was happy, I must admit that there were usually people around.

Don’t get me wrong — if I had to say where I was happiest, it would be by myself, taking photos near a body of water somewhere. Of getting in the car, driving till I found “something,” whatever that might have been, and pulling over to enjoy it.

But when I was with my friends — as I was lucky to find some good ones in my day — you know what I remember most? Smiling till my cheeks hurt. I couldn’t quote you a single conversation (as I was, oh, shitfaced for most of them), but I remember feeling good … at least, until I woke up the next afternoon!

I always had a knack for pulling the right combinations of people together. I was quite the consummate hostess back in my day. Yes, I had time to plan and cook for parties. The mind boggles at the very prospect. Of course, back then I was always looking for a reason to celebrate.

Maybe what I remember most was how the person I enjoyed the most was, well, me.

“Feel your hand close beside me
Hear the highway behind me
All by ourselves
We made love under
The sleeping moonless night
All by ourselves, we would run
Remember, baby?”

– Black Lab, “Time Ago”

I’ve gotta go cryptic here. But anyone who knows me would nod in agreement. I am a terrible flirt. I mean, I can go over-the-top with just about anyone I meet and make comments ranging anywhere from the suggestive to the salacious.

There’s nothing more electric than the moment when someone starts looking at you in a different way. And I cherish my collection of those times, because there are a handful of, “Oh my God, are they really looking at me like that?” And then there’s that moment of considering it and maybe even acting on it.

But if there’s one thing I kick myself over, it’s the fact that I cannot flirt with the people I most want to attract. It’s so weird. It’s the only time in my life that I get shy. I kick myself repeatedly over having the “right” thing to say on the tip of my tongue to really add some zip to a conversation, but never being able to let it out. Because, you know, what if it isn’t as well-received as you want it to be?

But here’s to the rare times that I had the right thing to say, that incited the right reactions. And here’s to hoping that I can either break the ice or flirt back the next time instead of being downright paralyzed between what I “should” (or shouldn’t) say as opposed to what I really *want* to convey.

I want to find me a carnival
Outside of town
A tilt-a-whirl set up
With a merry-go-round
Cotton candy fingers
And a snow cone mouth
I want to roll you in sawdust
Till they run us both out.

– Melissa Etheridge, “All the Way to Heaven”

I have to end it on a funny note, because this has been a running joke for years.

My best friend and I used to go out drinking every Friday and Saturday night at Bennigan’s, which was next to the pit of brimstone and hellfire where we worked. We were regulars there, and one of the memories I will always have is how men would just FLOCK to us, and we were too busy talking to give them the time of day. That was OUR time, damn it. Not that we weren’t aware of them, but they were digging us because we weren’t stalking them like some of the other female regulars.

But the best day was the first day we went out. We closed the bar (which would become our tradition) and once outside, my friend realized she really needed to pee. Now, we probably lived within three blocks of the place. But in our uber-inebriated state, that just seemed WAY too far away.

So, we drove next-door to our workplace, and she pulled down her pants and peed in the bushes. I laughed so hard I probably wet myself, too. It just seemed like a fitting first outing for us — and a totally appropriate end to the evening. I knew we were going to be friends for life.

And fuck that stupid workplace — they deserved to be crapped on in the same way they did to us during the next couple of years. I’m just glad my friend made her pre-emptive strike!

Despite the plethora o’ shit I have to deal with, today I want to complain about the, well, lack thereof in other parts, if ya catch mah drift.

I’ve been on this medication for four months now. It is doing nothing to improve the condition it was intended for. However, all of the side effects have shown up to the party and it’s irritating because all the bad stuff is here but the good stuff isn’t happening.

I wasn’t worried when the label said the pills may cause fatigue, bloatedness, irritability, blurred vision and constipation. Fuck, I enjoy most of that without paying $20 a bottle. But I figured it was a small price to pay to get better.

Hah. Meanwhile I have two refills left on this thing and realize now that I have to take other pills to combat all the damn side effects. No wonder people get hooked on medications — it’s not that you WANT to ingest a veritable pharmacy of meds, but you HAVE to.

I still get mad at people who poop at work, though. I don’t care if an urge does come at an inappropriate time — that doesn’t mean you should indulge it!

There are no fans in the ladies room, for one, and two, how do you bounce out of a stall with the pooh aroma in every fiber of your hair and clothes and still manage to say hello to the people who are holding their breath whilst washing their hands because your booty stank?

Well, what is there to talk about? Heath Ledger died. Suzanne Pleshette died. Who’s No. 3?

I mean, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan did themselves in. But when it’s someone young, (appears to be) stable and who has several Oscar-worthy performances left in them, it’s a real bummer. (My favorite Heath film, however, will always be “10 Things I Hate About You.”)

It also makes one feel OLD when the person who died (a la Heath, of an apparent prescription overdose) is a few years younger. Further — you wanna try a life that drives you to distraction, come walk around in my shoes for a day, eh? Not saying mine is any worse on an apples-to-apples basis, but man, if these celebrities have nothing to live for, why the fuck am I still here?

What a shitty day yesterday. The Fed cut interest rates, the market tanked, the market staged a pseudo-recovery, Apple came out with great earnings and lost $30 in the aftermarket because its forward guidance wasn’t good enough, and two stars’ lights went out. In any event, blah and rest in peace. Here’s to hoping today brings better things.

I spent some time last night drafting a post on some of the happier moments in my life. But then I had a cat howling all goddamned night and another cat shit right next to my bed — on my newly received voter registration card. Aaaargh! There isn’t enough time to get a new one before the primaries. I *think* I’m supposed to vote at the nearby elementary school. Shit.

Top that off with a command to drive to Pittsburgh and back in a one-day span — a place I’ve declared I’m never going to again — because I don’t have enough goddamned stress in my life already. Gawd forbid I get the house to myself for the day instead. You know who the person is that I really miss hanging out with? Me. At this point, I wouldn’t even recognize her on the street even if we ran straight into each other.

I wrote this epic post from work today, where several of us escaped to get some peace of mind even though it is a holiday. It wasn’t always a company holiday, though — I started on MLK day three years ago.

I was such a scared little rabbit back then, having been unemployed for five months and having a whole $35 in my pocket from selling books on Amazon.com. It’s funny — years later, I am pretty much over all that fear and frustration and exhaustion, and yet I still somehow will always wonder what would have happened to me had I not been hired when/where I was. I’d rather not think about it.

I remember seeing some dollar bills on my boss’ desk. I think it was three or four bucks — change from buying lunch. I remember not being envious that he had food (which I had done without for a long time — too bad I didn’t lose any weight from not eating); I was just thinking how far I could make those few dollars stretch if I had them. A gallon of gas. Thirty packs of ramen noodles. Three items from the McDollar menu. All of those were such a dream and a treat back then.

Pathetic, eh?

Today I had a wee bit of a panic attack at work. And since I’ve been having a handful of those lately, I was starting to think maybe they were work-related. But alas, the pattern has emerged that I flip out only when my mother contacts me, no matter where I am. So even though I’m under a lot of pressure at the office, it’s still pressure that I can manage. It’s everything else, however, that’s pushing me over the edge.

I mean, to the point where my colleagues are not necessarily encouraging me to try Adult Friend Finder, but that if I were already contemplating it, then maybe it isn’t THAT bad of an idea, I get the message loud and clear that I do just need to get laid already.

It’s just too bad most of the “good” ones are married, gay or are serial-killers-in-training! And the others, hell if I know how to read them. *sigh*

But anyway, I thought I did a good job of hiding my downright insanity in the early days of my job. I kept to myself and kept my problems to myself. And these days, I feel like I can’t hide anything. I mean, I was $35 away from being homeless back then! I found my faith during that period, since some of you have been asking. I kind of said, “All right, God. If you want me to make it, this is my last opportunity.”

I wonder if I can say that the next time I’m dating someone. Not that I care much about attracting the opposite sex anymore, at this point. I was out with one of my guy friends recently and he was feeling sorry for me because I can’t bring anyone home anymore. Lord. I think my cherry has grown back. And it’s vacuum-sealed!

In any event, I’m aware that my mindset will determine my direction. I guess I’m just scared to dream right now, because that’s all that’s holding me together at this point. And I couldn’t bear to learn that any of these dreams can’t come true, because the visions are crumbling under the weight of reality and I’ve got nothing to replace them with right now.

I’ll be OK. It’s definitely not the “No Bullshit ‘08″ year I envisioned. But I am looking very much forward to getting to Christmas, looking back and wondering why I was so tweaked out with stress in the first place.

My recent crisis of faith is pretty much averted. I went to church and even enjoyed it. But I will admit to spending our prayer time giving copious amounts of praise that the pastors I don’t enjoy weren’t the ones delivering the message today. Hey, all they told me to do was talk to God — nobody defined what I should have said!

I stayed after for this social thing for new members and folks who lead the various prayer groups. It was awful at first. I mean, everyone’s so nice, and that’s the bad part — I was claustrophobic in our tiny space and wanted to run screaming. But it was good — I’d say it was worth showing up for. The morning/early afternoon gave me some much-needed peace, and it only an hour and a half after leaving there to lose all my patience and then some — a record!

We had an exercise in church today, to turn to the person next to us and declare, “You need me.” And shortly thereafter, we were to turn to them and say, “I need you.”

It was meant to be a powerful moment, and for some it was. I guess I just wish it were one of those weeks where I was sitting with someone good, for it to really mean something. But the guy next to me was asleep for most of the sermon, so I wasn’t feeling his enthusiasm for me.

I think I’m going to try to get into this small-group stuff that they keep beating me over the head with. The pastor’s wife said she was shocked to see me thinking about getting involved. (Heathen child holds her crown.)

I told her that I am overwrought and I’m in no condition to be in a prayer group/bible study/volunteer group when I am probably more in need of help than the people I’m supposed to be helping. I added that I am so accustomed to being a leader in every domain of my life, that I really don’t know how to be a follower in general but in association with a church in particular.

Faith is an area that I am shaky at best, and religion mystifies me to no end, and she suggested that maybe I supplement the group thing by finding a friend with faith and learning how to walk in faith alongside them.

We’ll see. I don’t have time to see my drinking buddies, so making time for friends of faith is going to be a challenge to prioritize. Hanging out with Christian friends who drink, however, would be like two birds with one stone, so let’s multi-task together!

Part of today’s lesson was to be able to accept help when it is offered. I don’t ask for help because it’ll never come, for one. And secondly, I have had too many instances of helping people and then never seeing them again, especially when it was my turn to be in need. So whether or not it’s a pride thing in not accepting help, I don’t know.

The pastor had said that we weren’t meant to walk alone, that we shouldn’t be sitting alone in a hospital waiting room, or reading a coroner’s report by ourselves, or spending the night after a death/divorce/breakup all alone. Ding ding ding — I’ve done all of the above, all by myself … because even though there may have been someone I *could* have called, there was no one I felt I *should* have bothered.

I’ve let my work take over my life. Or maybe it’s an excuse I’ve used to keep people as far away from me as I possibly could. I’ve always been “fine” — but it’s admittedly been precarious at best. I keep to myself because I’ve had too many people exploit my vulnerability to cause me even more pain. And even though I do know some very strong, trustworthy folk, they have their own problems/friends/priorities.

I figure that if I don’t have anything to add to the relationship bank account, I have no business trying to make a withdrawal. And that’s sad because I met someone awesome recently, who can turn out to be a really good friend if only I return a damn call/e-mail once in awhile.

But shit, like I keep trying to tell my mother, I have absolutely nothing left to give. I can’t say no to anyone anymore, even as much as I want to. So I say no to things and people that would make me happy because I cannot jam another thing into my life. And how said is it to take a pass on juggling in some joy but there’s still plenty of time for the things I wish I never had to deal with?

In any event, today’s church fiesta pulled me back an inch or two from the ledge I’ve been about to go over. I don’t know how to take a full step back, not until the pressure eases up at work and home. And that’s the killer — there are no signs of a reprieve anywhere. It’s not a case of “Keep up this pace for the next six weeks or six months and you’ll get a break.” Au contraire.

And that’s why I’m nuts. Give me a goal date that I can take a breath, one that doesn’t entail, “Great, now you get even more pressure!” I am starting to understand the people who have challenged me (and not in a good way) the most — they work in spurts for a reason. The more they achieve, the more is demanded of them. Similarly, the less they achieve, the less they get bothered.

It’s not in my nature to give up on anyone, but when they’ve given up on themselves, I don’t know that I have it in me to rescue them. Not anymore, anyway. And my patience is gone — you can’t expect me to continually regenerate a fresh supply when I’m the only one exerting any effort on the see-saw.

But this brings me back to today’s sermon, that your expectations of people are directly defined by the types you’ve allowed into your life. And some of my key players have been nothing but lead weights, soldered to our ankles with no other purpose than to hold us back and drag us down. Even if that wasn’t their intention, it’s what happened.

So anyway, I am grateful that, of the friends in my (woefully neglected) circle, each one is an upstanding citizen. I don’t define a person’s worth by their faith — I’ve met holy rollers who use Jesus to justify their uselessness, and I know pagans who are the poster children for what an amazing, loving and caring citizen we all should be — but I do seek out those who are people I want to be LIKE and be WITH.

The way I figure, back in the Bible days, everyone was hearing voices and being drawn to make miracles. These days, if you hear a voice and admit to it, you get institutionalized. But even if we don’t hear voices per se, we do have gut instincts. And they can be positive ones that lead to goodness or they can be demonic ones that lead to hellacious results.

I’m exhausted with the latter. I want my affiliates to be the type of person I’m trying to become, because they give me faith that this person can actually exist. But it’s hard right now — I’m not anywhere close to the person I want to be. I think I was getting there, but I’ve been pulled off-course.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been so ambivalent toward the church’s stance on community involvement and neglectful toward the real relationships I did manage to form on my own. How can I be a role model to anyone? How can I expose how screwed-up I’ve become? How can I give up yet another moment for someone else without getting some peace for ME in there somewhere?

But then again, maybe if I’d been involved when all was well (or well enough), then maybe these folks would be there for me now while I’d glady jump off a building if I could find one that was more than three stories tall. …