Caterwauling

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. 

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.  

I was afraid to come back from vacation. I mean, I was afraid I *wouldn’t* be able to.

But I was up at 5, editing what I hope is the last 5 a.m. Monday thing for good. 

But the really crazy part of the day? Is that I’m happy to be back. 

Also something to be happy about?

Lost a pound or 15 between Vero Beach and Lake Buena Vista …

Mom asked if she could send my boss a thank-you card. 

She doesn’t understand the concept of vacation days. That how few I’ve taken. But now she sees how much fun we could have had with all that lost time every year. 

She is sincere with the thank-you. She really enjoyed having some relaxing days. She didn’t even mind being cooped up in the hotel the one day I did work. 

She’s sickly but pushed herself beyond her limits to walk Disney Springs, Epcot and various stores and restaurants and attractions. 

I wanted to stay one more night. Grace Potter was playing at the HOB yesterday. But alas, we’d done and spent enough. 

Of course, if this is her last trip — which she’s said more than once that she fears — I should have given it to her. 

But like most things in life, we decided to get out while the getting was still good. 

And save our pennies to return at Christmas. 

Just a few of many good memories we sure wouldn’t have had without two vacation days and one work-from-hotel day. ….

One of my friends mentioned on a conf call this morning that I’ll be out the next two days.

Another friend IM’d to say how happy it made them to hear those words. That I am finally taking a day for myself.

I’ve been feeling kind of weird about it. I mean, the only days I’ve been out of town (six workdays in four years), I worked during all or at least half of them.

I’ve not done the “Seeya, wouldn’t wanna be ya” thing in a good 5.5 years. And even then it was just a day or two at a time.

My one friend reminded me that I’m not like Soccer Ball to the Head #1, #2 and #3, though. They leave town with things unfinished. Half the time they don’t even tell you they are leaving and/or that the thing you need is unfinished.

I mean I am still waiting for something from one of their Christmas breaks. I did it myself, mind you. Spent three hours teaching myself how to do it, and 10 minutes actually doing it.

I heard Soccer Ball to the Head #1 lamenting the fact that they actually put thought into the project I needed (that they were all too happy to jet the fuck out of town before completing). Waah boo hoo.

Alas, I hope that I am benchmarked against those types in my review and not against the Goddess of the Last Three Years who should have given up her apartment, because she worked so much.

I don’t know what my goals are for the next year, beyond finding my compass and taking the remaining 26 vacation days and not actually pelting people with soccer balls. I’m just happy for the opportunity to keep on keepin’ on, and seeing the light of day more than usual but just a little tiny bit less than most.

That’s balance. And I’m more than OK with that.

Flowers from one of my boys today … 

Buckle up. ‘Cause we are going all the fuck over the board today.

Yucko McFucko

In case you’ve forgotten him, and lord how I’ve tried, I got some gossip yesterday about him. Nasty-ass motherfucker. Ugh. My psychic mom always told me to give him a chance. But he got a little bit too forceful with me once and she gave up the crusade.

I was NEVER a fan and figured he’d be a Stage 5 Clinger. Which, if you know Gemini girls, we prefer to be alone than wish we were.

Well what I learned yesterday would have made potential abuser/clinger seem like fucking heaven in comparison. Fleas … threesomes … hitting on barely legal people … paying for apartments for girls while married to someone else … toenail clipping collection … ugh.

Like my friend CK used to say, he’s the kind who’s fine with two tits, a hole and a heartbeat. And as I want to add here, heartbeat optional.

I need several hot showers. And I didn’t even let him touch me.

Mercury retrograde

We are in the shadow period of a three-planet retrograde cycle starting at month-end. This one is set to bring all things old into light. But not the “bad” old things. Just unfinished business.

And who has more unfinished business than me, the goddess of all things but especially relationships and other general procrastination?

I have a FB message from one of my lost loves. He was looking for my new address. I never gave it. (It’s been six months — I finally read the message this week.)

It could have been so he could send me a Christmas card. Maybe it was for something way more special.

Somehow I prefer not knowing. That way I can leave it in my imagination. Where it belongs.

Vacation, all I ever wanted

You read that right. After four years of giving up 28 vacation days, I am taking two next week. Wednesday and Thursday.

I will work from a hotel on Friday. Which isn’t fun but I also don’t want to screw over my favorite helper by being AWOL on the most-insane day of the week.

Mom, who’s sick and can’t walk 20 paces without being in pain, suggested going to Epcot for a day. I mean, I have to drop her off at store entrances and she’s winded by the time I find the one item I can afford inside Whole Foods. So, this will be interesting.

My favorite ride Soarin’ is closed for repairs and the Food & Wine Festival isn’t happening till the fall. But still.

I don’t know if this is a good sign or a last hurrah. But count me in.

Friends

I found out one of my friends has been battling breast cancer. But I’ve got so much going on that no one wanted to burden me with it.

Memo to friends: I’d rather hear from you than the users and abusers who think my job is to listen to them whine. Help a girl keep her priorities straight, please.

Today would be the 40th birthday of one of my college friends. Who died from breast cancer many years ago. What I wouldn’t give to have known so I could have told her I loved her.

Also — talk about good friends. A bunch of us met up yesterday and we were talking about all of us heading north where they live. But unknown to me, they all asked each other, “Is Goddess still driving her grandfather’s car? Let’s pick a place close to her so she doesn’t have to be on the road very long.”

I don’t know whether to be touched or embarrassed. I’m going with touched. Who else would think that way, other than my friends?

Even though I said that was unnecessary and I’d go to the ends of the earth to meet them, well, I appreciated it more than they could ever know.

Two pennies

When we all parted ways, I stayed behind for a little while longer. Had to find mom some dinner since I was away all day and she won’t feed herself. Took a long walk around Downtown and ended up on a little wooden bridge over a little wishing well type thing.

I had two pennies on me. I tossed one in and did my usual wish for mom’s health to improve. It’s every waking thought in my head. (Other than the ones where I let myself wonder what life will be like when this is no longer an issue. Upon which I want to kill myself for going there.)

My second penny was going to be the same.

But then the most adorable little girl walked past me. Tiny and cute. She actually said “excuse me” and waved at me once she got across the bridge.

Kids don’t do that around here. They are usually spoiled little assholes who are driving brand-new Beamers and Audis by their 16th birthdays.

And it got me to thinking — after our conversations earlier in the day — how much I miss love.

Three out of the four of us were dating/married to someone at work. Each of us lived through a layoff or firing of some sort. Each total bullshit when you think of the Soccer Ball to the Skull types who hang in there.

Two of the three of us had the relationships outlast the decisions that were made for us.

I was not in the majority.

Sure, we kept it going. For a while. But he was a gentleman who wanted to pay for things so the get-togethers got fewer. There were other issues, like the fact that I sort of had a foot out the door already. But, details.

Anyway, I used my second penny to say I’m ready for my next shot at love.

Funny how no one ever knew about that. Or another. Or still another. I don’t talk about them. I had two friends in town recently and they were blown away when I said I was with someone else for X amount of time and that it was over.

They were all like, does a relationship even exist if it’s not on Facebook?

For me, it’s been the only way. But my wish is to have one I feel like I CAN share with the world.

This retrograde cycle is supposed to involve Venus and love. And old hearts and flames. And, I’m hoping, new ones. Many, many new ones …

I came across that word in my travels this week. It gave me that magical, tingly, giddy feeling I always used to get when I found the perfect word for a very specific usage.

Understand, I was once a walking thesaurus. Then I met my mortal enemy, Flesch-Kincaid. And I hate that motherfucker.

So now in addition to being a grammar queen and figuring out where the point in the story is and making sure it’s at the top of the page and a great conclusion is at the bottom and then that there’s a super-awesome P.S. after the signature because everyone KNOWS that most orders come from people scrolling through the heart of the story just to get to the epilogue …

I have to take beautiful prose and julienne that shit so that even a fifth grader (or in this case, an eighth grader. Maybe 10th if there are a lot of numbers) can read it.

Funny how a gal who sought a career in wordsmithing would come to loathe sentences (rather, phrases used in place of sentences) so much.

Today I don’t care. I am insouciant. And the word rolls off my tongue. Monday, I will be indifferent or nonchalant or, here’s a thought, no one cares how you feel and I won’t be anything at all.

Also from the Department of Bad Decisions …

Waited all night for someone who shall we say borrowed an article from another site to rewrite it. It just arrived before 11 pm. I already have Plan B laid out and ready to test. But I’m so pissed I wasted over an hour on Plan A that I’m tempted to salvage Plan A with rewrite B. Bad hiring decision there. 

Waited till the last minute to buy a suit for a two-day circus next week. But this has a happy ending. Circus canceled. And I’m taking the days off. First days off since 2011. I just hope next week everyone Googles like I did today. Because, copyright. 

Accidentally got someone in trouble today. Didn’t mean or want to. And it wasn’t Soccer Ball to the Skull, who deserves it. I hate when it’s one of the overly competent ones. One stupid oversight and no real harm done. But, telephone game. Damn it. 

And as for what makes me the executive director of the Bad Decisions department, I am so insanely jealous of walkable-city denizens. Like to the point of wanting to join them and being crazy jealous of dopey wives who get to live in them because of their husbands. Maybe wanting to marry for love is just a pipe dream. Kudos to those who can tolerate someone so they can be taken care of. 

Welp. Shot out of bed at 5:30 am to work. It’s 11:30 pm. Time to remake the donuts. 

From the Department of Bad Decisions, I saved two projects for today that I should have finished a week ago. 

No creativity is coming to me like it normally does. Things are broken that shouldn’t be. I can’t skate by today. Sigh. 

I was thinking how we do things because we can. Not good things. I’m talking delays. I’m talking picking on weaker people. I’m talking head banging to the heavy metal drummer in our head instead of marching in formation. 

Even when we know better. And especially when know better. 

I’ll save the day somehow. But I am really not happy that I put it in danger in the first place. 

Having one of those moments where I want to wish someone well, but hoping they know it without me having to say it. 

Part of me is envious. But you know when someone worked hard for something. It’s not my path; it’s theirs. 

And somehow reaching out, I feel, would suck me back in. At least on the periphery. 

I’ll always be rooting for them. And I expect the same in return. The universe hears prayers. Sometimes I feel like the prayers of others for you are louder, just like I feel like my good wishes for others seem to come to fruition sooner. 

At least I hope that’s the case. If so, we should all lift each other up a whole lot more.