Caterwauling

I only look sweet and innocent

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

OK, I am hacking into my neighbor’s wireless network to type this.

So, Kadie is very afraid of our balcony, as she’s not quite used to being on the seventh floor. Anytime I go out for a smoke, she stays very close to whichever sliding-glass door I’ve opened. (I have three.)

Last night, she got brave and walked around the perimeter of the balcony. It’s pretty big — probably 50 feet wide by 25 feet deep. Big selling point for me taking this place, actually.

I’ve feared that she will jump off the balcony like she did three apartments ago. But I also didn’t think her furry little ass would fit through the rails.

So, tonight she pulled a fast one and ran onto the neighboring balcony. Problems there are:

1. Nobody lives there.
2. There are six units on our side of the building, so she could theoretically have ripped across them all.
3. The railing is fucking impossible to climb. No footholds, kinda flimsy, etc.

So she decided she really liked her spot next door, and would not come to me for a good 20 minutes.

So, my air-conditioning unit is out there. I put down my phone, emptied my pockets, tossed aside my shoes … and hopped up on it and went flying onto the next balcony.

Whereupon Kadie decided to run back onto ours and go back in the house.

Brat.

So there I was on the other side of the railing for I have no idea how long. I could not for the life of me lift my pudgy pork roast butt over the railing. (Oh, how I tried.)

The unfortunate part is that there is no air-conditioning unit on the other side of the railing. Which means, nowhere to gain a foothold.

And there was my phone, five feet away on my own balcony. …

So after a while, I managed to throw myself over the fucking railing, nearly plummeting seven stories to my death in the process.

Goddamned cat. I REALLY needed a cigarette after that!

Somewhere over the ocean

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I could tell you how the movers came two hours late, and ran three hours over budget. And I could say how I wasn’t sure I was getting the keys to mom’s place until after we had brought the truck to my new place.

And I could flip the fuck out that the price we’d discussed for her place isn’t “exactly’ what I had in mind. For that matter, nor was the moving cost.

I could also tell you about the torrential downpour that thwarted the move. And how the electricity kept flickering off as we jammed boxes and furniture into the too-tiny elevators.

I could mention that my couch didn’t fit in the elevators and my movers had to drag it up seven very-narrow flights of stairs. I could also mention that another person was moving in at the same time I was, and I got hit on by their movers.

I could also tell you that I parted with my phone number and he’s already called, but you already know what a shameless hussy I am.

But what I WILL tell you is that after my bank account got drained, my soul got deflated and my will got broken, Mom and I stood on my balcony after the rain and saw this GORGEOUS double rainbow.

I thought of my little Maddie, whose ashes I had in the front seat as I drove here and whose happy purr has been the only thing I’ve lived for, for the past 13 years. And I thought of the Rainbow Bridge, where our pets are supposedly waiting for us to join them once again.

And it’s going to be so very hard to do all of this, and handle everything in my life that I have to handle. But whether this was Maddie’s way or God’s way or the universe’s way of telling me that I’m meant to be here and that I’m going to turn out OK, I finally got the feeling that, sure, it’s gonna be so hard. But that maybe, just maybe, I’ve got something new to keep living and working for. …

You know I’m in a state when I’m busting out the Jesus music.

“In my heart, in my soul, Lord I give you control
Consume me from the inside out Lord
Let justice and praise become my embrace
To love You from the inside out”

– Hillsong, “From the Inside Out”

The fine folks from Hillsong are actually coming all the way from Australia to my church this weekend. The church I have attended all of six times in the past three months. I hope to have recovered from my move (Saturday!) enough to attend.

I called Comcast to confirm that they were installing my Internet on my moving day. Of course there’s no record of my two orders (basic cable for Mom, too) so not only did I have to go through THAT song and dance again, but they can’t come out for another week.

I’m splitting my workweek between home and Fort Lauderdale for the rest of this week and all of next. No Internet is ever-so-convenient. *headslam*

In other headlines, I found my beloved Pittsburgh tradition of Primanti’s in Lauderdale today. Goodbye, non-meat-eating … if I’m gonna continue fucking up the non-diet that I’ve been neglecting since June, gotta get the pastrami, yo. Mmmmm, so good. … ;9

The bad news? I was nomming on a yummy french fry when A TOOTH CAME OUT.

Isn’t 35 a little too old (young) to be losing teeth?

Genius here didn’t get a crown put on a root canal, so the packing plus the post holding it up came out. Because that’s just my luck. The remaining real tooth broke around it, so that was one delicious delicacy today. The taste of blood: not so hot. Blah.

House is still not fully packed. I’ll stay up all night tomorrow to get it together. I hadn’t unpacked much in the first place, so it’s last-minute kitchen stuff and glass tables and stuff I have to pad. I’m thinking my entertainment center won’t survive this move, so that eliminates a ton of glass right there. Woo.

I still haven’t signed Mom’s lease. I have to be present or have it notarized. Because I have copious amounts of time with which to do that. Looks like I’ll be signing it and moving in at the same time. She could stay here, which is paid for, for another month. But then that means paying for another round of movers.

And that’s time and effort I just don’t have. My mental capital is running lower than my financial capital.

I’m just spewing all the crap here so I can get it out of my system and forget about it. Which I probably won’t forget about it, but I’m at capacity for crap right now. Would that be crapacity?

Tuesday has been so very full of FAIL.

I had a great job opportunity for the OEH. My vet is hiring. So I sent her with money to go buy some Capstar in hopes she could strike up a conversation and ask about the three open positions they list on their Web site. Whereupon they treated her like shit, refused to sell it to her and otherwise acted like assholes.

Now, I deserve when they treat me like an asshole. My kitty was sicker than I ever realized. I didn’t recognize it soon enough and I didn’t take care of it. And I admit that somewhere in my line of thinking, it was hard for me to give my cats health care when my mother’s gone 50 years without it. Even if all my friends had pounded it into my head that she chose to never get a job/get health care/do anything but rely on others to come through and they never did. I chose to have pets. They needed me to make good choices for them. I signed up to take care of them. And in Maddie’s case — my best friend, the light of my life — I failed so very miserably.

Needless to say, no job for OEH.

I promised myself I’d take a break from the burgeoning workload and do some writing for myself tonight. I did treat the colleagues to my unhinged ramblings in an e-mail chain last night. To which I got some surprisingly good feedback, that they wanted to hear more of what runs through my mind.

It was a marketing brainstorming e-mail that particularly lit my fire. I know my audience so well because I AM my own audience. I am that person who works too hard and doesn’t see the light of day enough and can’t tell a Saturday or a Sunday from any other day of the week. Believe me, I CAN sell ice to Eskimos because I wear the parka and look just as stupid in it.

And it’s so hypocritical to write about making your dreams come true when I don’t take the resources at my fingertips and do the same damn thing for myself.

Christ, I could be our best testimonial. And yet, I never take those steps because I can’t figure out how/when/where to start.

I was joking (but in a serious way) that bigger you get (and not just in ass size, but age), the smaller your dreams can become. That I’m just about done waiting for Prince Charming to get his aging ass off that bound-for-the-glue-factory horse of his and take me to his castle that’s in foreclosure. That you go from dreaming of all the homes you’ll own all over the world to having to charge a pack of cigarettes to your credit card. That the more uncertain things become in the world, the more tightly we rein in our aspirations because we feel we must prepare for disappointment.

I could go on but I can’t share all my intellectual property. Since it’s the ONLY thing I own, yo.

I will say that the collective “we” (read: I) somehow let the universe chop my dreams in half. I had grand designs of saving money and traveling and seeing my friends even more than I did when I lived down the street from them. And yet I have one coming to my area but I can’t spare a square time to make a meeting happen.

I’m more disturbed at my “Enh” reaction to it. I don’t know when a “next time” will be. The last time I tried to see her, I actually bought the plane ticket and lost all the money because I was too busy. I remember that was a pivotal moment in my psyche. I’m not saying that in a good way.

I’m starting to get nervous over my move. (Saturday morning, baybee.) Now, I’m a big fan of a little fear before a big adventure. Fear is good. Fear keeps reality in check. Fear can be motivating and even enthralling when you face it.

But I am hyper-aware of the difference between fear and your gut telling you that you’re doing something stupid. And I think I’m squarely on the “fear of the unknown” side and not the “you’re about to regret this” side. But I figure, I’m exchanging money for sanity. A lot of money for hopefully a commensurate amount of sanity. But a shred of sanity nonetheless.

It’s times like this when I wonder how the universe decided I’m so damn trustworthy to handle so much, you know? It’s one thing when shit just “happens” to you. It’s quite another when you have your eyes wide open and go barreling into something headlong.

I’ve found that most of my decisions turn out to be good ones. Even if it takes forever for me to find my groove and admit that I did the right thing.

I keep telling myself that things will turn around. Good things are coming soon enough. Sacrifices are the name of the game and they will be rewarded.

I refuse to let myself think the OEH will be dependent forever. Although it’s certainly feeling that way.

I’ve had a lot of death and dying in the past month. Between losing my beloved Maddie, to the one-year anniversary of losing a friend, to a scare about losing another friend, I’m abundantly familiar with how transient life is and how permanent loss is.

I guess right now I’m really thinking about, wow, if I didn’t have to pay to house the OEH in D.C., I would have had money for Maddie’s care. She would still be here today. Maybe. It’s a burden I will carry for a long time to come.

And even though I’m downright gleeful at parting with (*mumble*) to put the OEH in an apartment in which I don’t live, I’m also exiling the only person I really talk to. Not that I share much. And that I’m not annoyed at never having a moment alone. But my bathroom isn’t going to clean itself anymore.

In my ramblings last night, I uncovered that my American dream is simply to be obligated to no one. It could have a variety of interpretations. One interpretation is to be free of “owing” something to someone. Another would be to be dependent on someone. Another could mean that I don’t have anyone depending on me.

In a way, I really don’t believe the world owes me shit. I do my best and I fuck up religiously. So yeah, if life sucks, maybe I did something to deserve it.

On the other hand, I really DO try my best and continually feel like I’m falling short.

The Law of Attraction states that basically you have to envision it before it will come. And at times like this when everyone in the world is “just grateful to have ____,” you wonder what happened to all the dreamers in the world. Sure, we’re grateful. But is there some amount of guilt that comes with wanting more?

Like, I have a secure job and will soon have a pretty apartment. Is it selfish to want a companion, too? A social life? A meager savings that isn’t being drained to get someone else out of your hair?

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something. Either a breakthrough or a breakdown. Too early to tell which.

I know what I need is to see the fruits of my labor. Hey, I’m an American in the Internet generation — I’m all about the instant gratification, yo. But I’ve spent the last few years, particularly that the OEH has been in my house, working hard and coming home and not being done with my work feeling like I’ve worked for anything. Apartments where I’m not overjoyed. No time or energy to see friends. Not really enough money to do anything spectacular. No way to put down the daily grind and go frolic somewhere for a couple of days.

If I can’t have it all, then I need to at least have some of it.

So all in all, I’ve been reasoning out this whole apartment debacle for months. And while it hurts writing out check after check after check, I’m hoping that being able to come home and stare at water on both sides of my balcony will do wonders for my well-being.

Sure, in the long run it’s not enough. But it’s more than I’ve got now.

And maybe I just need for one dream to come true for my being to be receptive to more. It is my sincerest hope that bigger things follow, and in abundance. For both myself and the OEH. I think we’ve suffered long enough.

Bright spot

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

It was a blazing hot day and a rainy-ass night.

I hauled ass packing my place today — my mom saw all the shit packed in the late afternoon and was impressed with my progress, but what she didn’t realize was that I had done all of that in the morning and was working in the afternoon.

I keep trying not to take life too seriously, but today wasn’t a good day on that front.

I hauled one carload of crap to the new apartment, and all I did was look in the mirror, searching for Maddie. During the last move, she roamed the car and climbed in and out of boxes.

God, I miss that puss.

I was feeling guilty because she had tried so hard to sit in the front seat with me, and I kept preventing her from getting past the armrest. I had all my papers and shit that I didn’t want her to mess up.

Now, that all seems so trivial. I wish I had the memory of her sitting in the front seat next to me. But the memories of her nuzzling my elbows with her head are plenty to keep me both happy and sad, all at the same time.

“She’s been here too few years
To feel this old.”

– Matchbox 20, “Hang”

I often stop and wonder with this epic move whether I done lost my mind. I mean, paying for two apartments? Am I high?

But the cost of my sanity and freedom really knows no price tag. It’s just money. Really. This is the first thing I’ve ever done for me. If I don’t have a bright spot in my world, I’m never going to make it.

The move is Saturday, which was why it was imperative to get everything packed today. I’m lucky I’m a pro at this moving thing. I still have a lot of loose ends to tie up, glass to wrap, surfaces to scrub.

I don’t think all of my furniture is going to fit in our tiny elevators. And I don’t know that I am really that interested in having the movers drag it up seven floors of steps. I have so precious little that it would suck to lose the one or two “good” pieces I have.

But maybe it’s just another mark of starting over — get rid of all the memories and maybe I’ll be compelled to make some new ones.

My heart is so heavy tonight. But I keep trying to thank God for everything I have, and everywhere I’m going. This is just a tough phase. In another six weeks, a whole lot of pressure will be alleviated, financial and otherwise.

But seeing the sun set on the Intracoastal tonight? Reminded me of why I’m here on this earth or, at least, it made my heart leap a little bit at just the beauty I’ll be able to behold every single day when I’m in my new place.

I keep thinking in terms of “the year I lived in the penthouse,” like I’m planning my autobiography. But I don’t just want it to be a year — I want it to be for a decade. I want mom to get a job already so she can pay for her own place. I want to not think in terms of how hard it’s going to be but how pleasant it will be instead.

And fun. It’s got to be fun. Sure, it’s in the middle of fucking nowhere, but that’s OK. That’s what I need right now. My space. My peace. The sound of my own voice in my head not being drowned out by absolutely everything else.

I can’t wait to hear what I have to say.