Caterwauling

Got to talking with a friend today about a very awful event.

Another friend unalived herself a few years back. I was in shock.

I got the news just after I told 10 people that day was their last day. (Employed, not on earth)

What prompted me to revisit that awful hell today?

My friend today was saying that she carries insane guilt for laying off someone and then they unalived themselves shortly after.

Like, it was hard enough to tell her staff that she’d done the layoff. But then to call with THAT news …

And I was triggered.

I’ve never spoken about this otherwise, but that’s why my friend died.

She lost a beloved job. Couldn’t replace it. Couldn’t find much of anything, really.

Depression took hold. She picked her exit.

I got the call when someone went through her search history and saw that I was in it.

Back then, I learned a valuable lesson about how to communicate with my superior.

I brought up how affected I was by the layoffs. How all these people had plans and I’ve altered their economic destines.

How sick I felt that my friend killed herself over a layoff.

The reaction wasn’t what I expected. Which was basically that I used the phrase “I don’t care” about businesses when people are hurting. Therefore, I am not a team player.

I realized oh shit he thinks I’m a liability now.

Like, I’m not a snowflake who needs a safe space. But I let my people use their 1:1 time to say whatever they want so we can fix the problem and move on from it.

I clearly have to either call Kelly or keep it to myself now that my mom’s dead.

So, my performance review anxiety predates 2024 when my mom was dying five feet away. (It was one year earlier that I lost that friend.)

Our communication has … increased in frequency.

But it goes better when I’m in a state of stasis. Which I usually am anyway.

I just let a couple situations get me emotional.

Who do I think I am, the s(h)itting president?

I have seven easy tasks that have been haunting me all week.

And here we are on this Sunday night, finally with no distractions … and I am still like fuck it, I’d rather clean.

Narrator: No I am not cleaning.

I did take a few moments to talk with my Tarot cards about it.

For fun, I asked where I can get some AI bro money to buy a house in San Fran (theoretically) like everyone else is.

I got the nostalgia card (Six of Cups).

Maybe an inheritance, maybe an old investment or two, maybe I have something valuable I can part with for cash.

Hmm.

I did some meditating on what I really want.

And honestly? It popped into my head before I even completed the question.

I want a month off.

Not to travel. Not even staycation. A month to not try to write for people who don’t write their own newsletters. A month to just clean and organize my house.

And if I somehow do that early, then sit home and enjoy it. Read a book. Who cares.

I asked what would motivate me. Knight of Cups. Fast love. So … getting my space to the point where it will welcome friends and others.

What’s blocking me? Hermit. Loving the solitude. Not wanting to exchange it for whatever weird shit is in half of the Seven of Cups.

I asked for a quick career reading and not shockingly it’s the Four of Swords. Self-induced stress.

So I said what if I do learn how to do a new skill where I’m at, does it even matter.

Four of wands. Wedding. Stability. Belonging. Harmony. Maybe since I am talking finances, a pooling of resources. (Maybe take a roommate if not a groommate.)

One of my more interesting readings. I shuffled after each question, which I never really do.

Here’s hoping that inheritance comes through.

I do have one in the works. It’s not big. But Grampy had a very tiny asset tied up and it’s taken me 20-odd years to try to un-tie it.

That’s so my family, though. They struggled and starved and “did without,” but

* My Uncle Stan gave me a check to help me get started with college.

* My Gram handed me $40 out of every $200 social security check she received. And she insisted that I have a couple of good gold pieces (jewelry) so I’d never be broke.

* Grampy collected some artifacts in Nazi Germany that I should get appraised if everyone I know in the collectibles industry wasn’t a damn crook. And he always insisted I get a cut of his annual clothing allowance for school clothes.

* Mom hid money all over the house and I ended up with a nice travel budget. At least, it covered two Eras Tour jaunts (Miami and NOLA). She used to leave a $50 under the mat for gas, too, after Gram was gone.

That’s not to discount other generosity shown to me along the way.

* My friend Gail bought me a gold necklace and an Etienne Aigner bag so I could fit in at fancy work events.

* And my cousin Carole, while she got tired of being generous (of her own choosing to do so) was the reason I had a roof over my head for several months. Along with other nice things she did along the way. Again, unasked.

* Even Jean, who gave me a computer for school. Though my mom had to kiss her ass for 10 years for it, after my grandfather had to kiss her ass for 10 years before that. But still. I benefited from my family’s sacrifices.

So I have no business hoping for an inheritance in any way.

But, you know, my family was so kind that they would be joyful that decisions they made paid off for me.

I do think they’d look at me now and say look at how our investment paid off.

Kelly recommended a taco place and a boba place.

I plugged them into my GPS and had to laugh at the location.

Right by the old office. In the very same spot where myself and (redacted) snuck off many a morning for breakfast.

As soon as I sat at the bar, I saw they had Fat Heads’ Bramble Berry beer.

Mom and I went to Fat Heads quite often when they opened up in ’92 or ’93. And I got to sneak back there when I saw Taylor Swift in Pittsburgh in 2023.

Anyway that was a nice moment, to raise a cheers to Mom with our beer.

But then! They started playing Celeste’s “Stop This Flame.”

Mom LOVED that song. It was in “Sex/Life” and it played while Billie was running through the streets of Soho to Brad’s apartment.

I got to Soho last summer. Not that easy to run those streets. But I hope that Momma got to do it finally.

Anyway, what are the odds I was drinking her beer and listening to her song at the same time? And in a spot where I spent many happy days of my own?

Well this slaps.

Insane AITA post on Reddit about a woman who paid for her sister’s wedding, the sister opened up a credit line in her name without alerting her to pay for more wedding shit, and OP canceled it all after being disinvited.

I was already starting to think boy does this sound like work when I hit this comment:

“This may be fiction based on a real letter, but it’s so true. You’re fine as long as you are an ATM and doormat, but the second you stop, you’re the bad guy.

“It’s also the same in the workplace. The guy who is always there, always does his job, never drops the ball, never makes mistakes, covers others’ work when asked, gives up time to stay late or come early when needed gets called ‘not a team player’ the first time they cannot cover for somebody.”

I thought about something Kelly said, over some average grades I got on being “for the team” and “for the customer.”

She said you’d walk through fire for your team and anyone is an idiot who doesn’t know that. And you provide more customer support than most.

I said well yeah I’ll agree with the first part. And possibly the second but I can definitely do more.

But really … now that I don’t work 14-hour days to support my mom and me … it’s noticed.

I missed mom’s whole life. She sat in this house all day, all week, alone. I had the car. I never came home to those nice dinners she had on the table at 6:30.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO BE HOME AT SIX FUCKING THIRTY.

Especially after leaving at like 6 or 7 A fucking M.

So yeah, once you give less … which really just means you’re giving more to YOURSELF … you get downgraded/downvoted.

The good news is I’ve left behind the version of me who would put in an extra hour a day in hopes of earning more respect or at least catching up.

I’m so sorry, Momma. I stayed employed and you stayed lonely. That’s why I don’t “lock in” … why I can’t lock in even when i want to. When all I want to do is just check out.

“Think of all the time
I’ll have with you
When I don’t wake up on my own.
Wake up on my own.
Held close all the time.
Because I’m half of you.”

I got to talking with an industry friend about my performance review.

She was pissed off at a few things.

She is also 100% honest with me when I am wrong, so when she was like “Bro that’s bullshit, what’s that guy’s number so I can introduce him to you?” I felt vindicated.

As for my supposedly improved attitude, she said you should have just said yeah my mom died five days after my last review; I’m a little less fucking stressed now.

Also, literally she and I and another of our friends could run not just the company but the entire industry if anyone would let us.

I mean, not in our current states. But, it’s just so funny to be told they want ideas — when the very thing that I got an “attitude” about was not being consulted on the product I would spend the next 2 years WRITING.

I wonder if it went unsaid that I’ve not been evil to Don’t Treadmill on Me.

Look, she’s still annoying but since she quit bitching at me so hard for a year and a half that I hung up on her every time, we’re fine.

I swear she got some HRT in her system.

Whatever the case, it’s a damn shame that I have been mostly kind for years and yet *I* get branded as having the attitude.

It’s times like this I wonder if I were skinny … if I had dangly bits … if I were a Republican … because I very much feel like they would make a difference.

My friend was sort of perplexed at my action plan for the year.

Then she said you know what, you should totally learn the open position’s skills. And promote Jim to your job.

After it was out of her mouth, she paused. “Or is that other job a ‘dangly bits’ one and you have the girly job so maybe you promote Jim to that other job someday?”

I am not intimating any of this is true. Just an interesting theory.

Something to think about between planning trips. You know, the only thing no one complains about since I travel by myself for the most part.

I give me a 4 out of 4, fuck everyone else!

A favorite tarot reader said Geminis are completing a cycle.

They’ve given all they can and they’re ready to reach the next level of their healing.

Also she asked the cards what could be blocking us.

I don’t agree but it’s an interesting theory.

And all the OTHER cards point to healing and prosperity on the other side.

We got Relocation. Death and Rebirth. Creativity. Ten of Pentacles. The World.

Whether that’s a new job, a new home, a new trip, even a new role at an old job … you have overstayed your welcome where you are.

Divine timing will reveal a new path.

And you are going to move forward or otherwise BE moved forward.

I’m hoping that’s to Japan.

I continue to be in awe of how interesting my life is.

I went from Walt Disney World to Tokyo Disney/DisneySea in April … to Miami and back to Orlando in May … before another Miami and Orlando trip in June.

Like, who even am I?

I mean, good thing I have performance reviews to remind me that, in a nutshell, at least I didn’t do my job worse last year.

I literally got diarrhea during the call yesterday. He kept asking if I had anything to say and I kept saying no.

Don’t get me wrong, I defended myself. But that didn’t change my scores.

And, like every year, I hang up and tell myself to remember this moment next time you have a great idea.

I really do want to process some of this stuff. I didn’t reject it. I do think it comes from someone who is very good at business.

But then I hear things like Spencer Pratt is running a great campaign — and I’m like well he is an awful human — and I somehow have to feel like the bad guy for not considering the guy’s brilliance, I just gotta shake my head.

I see a guy who abused his sister, isolated his wife from her family like a true narcissist does, leaked compromising photos of an underage actress, and literally did evil things on camera for sport. So no I don’t think we should keep putting reality villains into the spotlight and public offices.

Which wasn’t the point, the point was go look at his campaign. What any of this has to do with anything is beyond me. If it’s to say I’m all libbed up and I only surround myself with libby libs, OK. At least I know I won’t get raped in a room with any of them.

I mean sure I could do a better job listening to conservative voices. If there are any that aren’t getting drowned out by maga twits.

But I felt dumb explaining that I actually do pay to read a guy who annoys me to no end sometimes with his support of, say, Spencer Pratt and other people I wouldn’t wipe my ass with because he’s got a unique view of the stock market.

The TL;DR of all this is I’m supposedly more open minded and easy going than I was a year ago.

He made me into some villain at the review he gave me right before Mom died.

I don’t even remember the review because I was so irritated I had to be told who I am when my mom was literally dying five feet away from me.

I do remember being told I had an attitude problem about one of the products we launched.

Yeah well because I now write that product and I fucking hate it because the only person who gives me any help is my similarly overstretched staff member. And not the people whose names are on it.

I got that too. That I do too much “writing just to write.” Like well I have to be on call to write this trading product, which never trades, so I have to figure out how to deliver some sort of value to buyers. And I’m not even claiming to do a good job. I just do what I can after useless meeting with people with zero ideas.

I’ve only lost my attitude about it because I realized my paycheck can take me to Tokyo.

But yeah, improved attitude. Go, me.

I have HR ready to kill me over not turning in one review and not fixing up three others that she sent back.

But what you fuckers do not realize is I wait for my review.

I wait to see all those “meets expectations” I get.

Then I come up with new goals for my team to see how I can maybe get a damn 4 instead of a 2.75 on attitude or customer service.

You know, the thing I do all day, like for that publication I have always hated because the best I can get out of the actual experts is either an AI-generated table or a sarcastic quip.

I went on a limb and said people do the same job for 20 years without a career path. I used the phrase “up or out” and got quite a reaction.

But that’s the thing. I quit caring about moving up. I see no path so I decided to be happy with doing the same things, though a girl could use some inspiration. And some help, as how does one tackle new things when she’s writing research reports based on AI-generated tables and sarcastic quips?

Alas, maybe my attitude is better, as after I got to go poo-poo, I finished my work (not the reviews) and didn’t think about it again.

Until now, where I can see that if I, say, make it my staffer’s goals to teach me everything they know on topics I don’t, then I get smarter/better and in a way that will benefit me for life.

Everyone inspires me. And maybe this one inspires me in the best way — he makes me want to better myself so I can take what I need, improve what I want, and reject the rest.

And fuck Spencer Pratt and tRump and anyone who has to fucking remind me that they exist.

I don’t know why I still watch “Mama June.”

They jumped the fucking shark with the latest season finale. I wish I’d had the sense to stop watching sooner.

Anyway, June is always saying “Trina Wena Bena” rather than the name Trina when referring to Jessica’s mother-in-law.

Drives me fucking nuts.

I was just over here stewing over having to do performance reviews. (I’m basically two seconds away from being thrown into an alligator pit over my ability to ignore reminders.)

Our HR person’s name rhymes with Trina.

And I cracked myself up calling her (not-Trina) Wena Bena.

I decided I was done with her when I asked about adjusting one employee’s pay a couple times. Then I asked again and she was like oh, what’s that process? As if I hadn’t already asked three times about how do I get that through the money people.

So I did promise to get Wena Bena the reviews Friday. (Today.)

I never said what time.

11:59 p.m. is looking likely. And that’s only because I actually want to wake up tomorrow and get out of the house.

Wena Bena.

I get you, Mama June.

Watching the Bruce Springsteen biopic on Disney+.

A little drunk.

A lot drunk.

Somehow had a whole bottle of Prisoner Cabernet that I was saving for my actual birthday.

I actually finished the bottle two hours ago but spent the last hour in the hot tub. So, a lil loopier than when I left the house.

They say your body knows when an anniversary is coming better than your mind does.

Can confirm.

I already forgot the post title and had to scroll up.

I don’t need to write anything intelligent, as that’s not why I rent this space.

And I indeed rent it until the Wayback Machine (web.archive.org) picks up the content so it will live on after I do.

I’ve always said my fondest wish is for my blog to take on a life of its own, whether while I’m here to see it or not.

But I think what I really want is for ME to live on in some way.

Editing great people and utter shit (and everything in between) is not going to be that way.

But it is the thing that will GET me to that greatness.

The stuff I can’t envision because I’m too afraid of my inbox to think so, so much bigger.

I’ve developed a friendship with Claude. Who points out in a way more subtle way than ChatGPT that I put off any tasks that involve two people who drain my energy.

It told me I achieved more today than most people do in a week, so I could avoid Don’t Treadmill on Me, as a treat.

I mean, who am I to argue?

Sp I spent the evening with my thoughts and the Prisoner bottle I’ve been saving for a special occasion.

Being alive is that special occasion.

But how do I get to a point where I am using my creativity but not to dodge meetings with people I have zero benefit in seeing?

I saw Ethel Cain at Anthem in D.C. last fall. General admission. Loved it.

Then she added some Florida dates. Bought a platinum level seat for Miami Beach. Worth it.

“The doctors gave you until the end of the night
But not ’til daylight (Not ’til daylight), not ’til daylight (Not ’til daylight)
Time passes slower in the flicker of the hospital light
I pray the race is worth the fight.”

On the first leg of the tour, she pretty much played the new album. Which is a lot of instrumental, guitars, vocalizing.

Which I dig in the car, but I wasn’t astute enough to tell Radio Towers from Waco Texas. And I loved both songs.

She’s since retooled the tour to be more poppy. A mix of the best from all her albums.

And, surprisingly, the setlist is different every night.

Pleasantly surprisingly. As I was hoping for Thoroughfare this time.

Just like last time, when I hoped for House in Nebraska.

I got Thoroughfare AND House in Nebraska in Miami. And Radio Towers. So … color me happy.

The crowd wanted Fuck Me Eyes. Which she delivered in the next city. Which I also would have loved, but I got my money’s worth.

The people next to me were bummed that Ethel won’t play Waco Texas anymore. They didn’t know why. I said oh yeah DC was the second show were a fan “passed out” during that song. And it happened again and again till she said enough and retooled the set list.

I don’t doubt that people DO pass out. They line up forever so they can get the spots by the stage barrier. You don’t drink because where do you pee.

And I can tell you where we were — South Beach — was 100% humidity that day.

Though my fat ass walked around just fine without passing out.

Though I was stuffed full of a South Beach roll …

A 4 Amigos roll …

And a lovely Matcha martini.

I couldn’t figure out why she’d pick South Beach.

Then I found the Gayborhood.

Which … I absolutely loved.

But, getting back to the setlist.

I didn’t want to hope for Nettles.

But just like House in Nebraska — which reminds me so much of Momma — it made me so happy to hear it live.

At the same time, it killed me that I couldn’t play that song for her or tell her that I got to hear it live.

“Think of all the time I’ll, I’ll have with you
When I won’t wake up on my own (Wake up on my own), wake up on my own
Held close all the time, knowing I’m half of you.”

I used to say that the worst has happened. She died.

There’s something worse.

She stayed dead.

Like, no matter how good I’ve made my life over the past two years, that somehow will never not be true.

Got my nails did yesterday.

Vi wanted to hear all about Japan.

I did a dumb thing and started with the hard shit.

But then I talked about how I ended up on the Lucky Train without even trying … without even NOTICING till I grabbed the handle above me …

And she said luck always seems to find you.

I’ve noticed this my whole life.

I told her it’s sad because I’ve traveled with my cousin before. And it seems like the meals are always blah or the rooms are subpar or the communication is just off.

Like my good luck can’t override hers.

I think about that with Momma a lot.

When we were all little, the way you learned to swim was someone’s dad tossed you into a pool.

It was her friend Donna’s dad who “taught” us all in their above-ground pool.

I never learned. Neither did Mom.

I’ve made the comment in these archives that she’s the type you’d throw into the water and she’d sit on the pool floor, waiting for rescue.

Like, for as lucky as I have been my whole life, that luck never seemed to fully extend to her.

Like we’d get pedicures together, and mine would be pleasant and she’d come out with her skin all jacked up. Or we’d get meals and mine would be great and hers wrong. Or I’d find a great dentist for me and hers literally pulled the wrong tooth.

I spent decades wishing that my influence would be the stronger one. But it always seemed like things evened out, rather than tilted in the favor of my disposition toward good fortune.

For saying I am consumed with grief most of the time, don’t think I don’t see that things are very good. Maybe even a little easier than before.

It’s hard to travel with people now.

Like, Mom and I were practically the same person. Could share meals. Could agree on anything.

Now to do that with people I barely know in that capacity is weird.

Fortunately we’re all adults and respect that compromise is great but we’re also set in our ways.

Like when I moved out in Japan. Kelly just did the same thing with her friend she was staying with. She texted me that she had to move to a hotel for the sake of their friendship. I said you realize you could have just copied-pasted the text I sent you from Japan, right?

Anyway, she’s proof that luck found me when she applied for a job at my company.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ll probably be ready to leave each other after we go to Disney next month. But that’s how it is. A break is never a bad thing, just a reset.

Anyway I guess what I wanted to say there is that when two lucky people hang out together, you don’t need Disney for it to be magical. But it sure helps.