Caterwauling

It was so good
Letting you want me
So good
To make promises, promises.

Well this one hit a little too close to home.

I was thinking, I could dedicate this song to someone. Based on that line above.

But fuck that.

They can dedicate it to me.

(He) was pink clouding from the thrill of it
Skydiving as (he) wrapped (his) arms around my body
Gray rocking where the arrow hit
Years later, (he) still wonder(s) how to tell (me) sorry
(He) didn’t wanna let (me) down
So (he) left (me) up there on a pink cloud.

I don’t know that I ever even got a real apology.

A half assed one, basically thrown at me before “stop posting those vague things you say that send her spiraling.”

I could post that there was a damn rainbow in the sky, and she’d make 40 posts about MY post.

In any event, it all makes my head hurt to even remember all that.

But that’s how I use the song. As the apology I never got.

I finally made my own half assed apology awhile back. Just a simple, “I’m sorry, I was incapable of being an adult back then.”

Which is as good an apology as I’ve ever given. Take it or leave it; it isn’t getting any better.

That was more than I ever wanted to give but it tumbled out and we all know I can’t stop my words if I tried.

I just figure, they downgraded and got it worse. And I neither upgraded nor downgraded and have it so much better. I can be kind.

I was talking to one of my boys today.

He really deserves better than who he ended up with.

Sadly, he didn’t deserve someone as good as me.

What a revelation.

My name is NO.

My number is NO.

My sign is NO.

You need to let it go.

You need to let it go.

There’s this guy in the industry who annoys me.

He REALLY annoys Kelly.

He’s asked me two or three times about open positions at my job.

Look, I’m sour on the place right now. But when I get over it — and I always do — I don’t need another H to avoid.

Last time he messaged, I asked K, “We don’t like him, right?” And she’d said, “If you like dead weight, he’s your guys.”

Well, he asked today if I thought he’d be a good candidate for VP of marketing.

I fell out of my chair laughing.

“I think it’s so cute and I think it’s so sweet
How you let your friends encourage you to try and talk to me
But let me stop you there, oh, before you speak
Nah to the ah to the, no, no, no.”

Fortunately/unfortunately we hired someone over the weekend.

Fortunately because we need that role. Unfortunately because that means my boss is gonna be ALL up in my grill now since he’ll be less busy.

Which … BRING IT.

In any event, I’d rather have my tiny team of awesome people than some mediocre white man who thinks he’s VP material apply for — and get — that job.

Buddy, I’ve had the same title for 15 years. They bring YOU in above me … I’m out.

So, here’s assuming they hired far better.

It would actually be nice to have a real peer over there. It’s been too long since Eric left. I miss his weird but very talented ass.

Clod — nee Claude — gave me an intriguing insight.

He said do you notice you are always worried about work around the clock … and maybe that takes away from your actual productivity during actual work hours?

I mean, yeah I noticed. For 25 years.

But he’s not wrong. If I were just full force productive for 8-10 hours a day, I wouldn’t be worried about it all the time.

Like, I just sat down to work on this holy sunday night/mtv music awards evening.

Read a bunch of emails, some work related and others mostly catching up on news and politics.

And I realize my eyes are burning because I haven’t slept right in a (decade) week.

How does one read and write when their windows into the world are burning?

Look, I tend to shift the blame onto myself, since everyone else will anyway.

But really, one should not have to cut vacations short or work during them and then still be woefully behind.

OTOH I can’t forget when boss said who can you give this document to, to edit?

Like I was gray rocking rather than saying any of the 14 people I’ve laid off in the last few years.

But really … if I knew of anyone who could edit their way out of a paper bag …

It’d be worth my while to just pay them to make this go away so I can focus on this week’s product launch.

Unfortunately the only person who can edit just got another job … though he also applied to my open position … so either the new job isn’t working out or he’s sending a message.

And for real tho — it’s either the universe telling me here’s a second chance, don’t screw it up …

Or it’s the universe saying, hey, maybe there’s someone better out there … if you’d just pick up your PERSONAL CELL PHONE and talk to people.

I had good intentions on working today.

But I laid in bed, ate great food from the unimart kombini that opened yesterday in Mills 50, and rescheduled my entire pittsburgh trip.

I had plans to Brightline down to SoBe, stay at the Citizen M, and see my friend DJ at Do Not Sit.

The idea was to cab it over to MIA the next morning.

That was back when I just worried about work all the time. Now that I’m apoplectic about it all, fuck it.

Cut out the SoBe of it all. Changed flight to PDO International, home of the chief child trafficker. Made sure to make it on a Friday night so I don’t inconvenience anyone.

Not that I can get a hotel room in Pittsburgh under $500 on a Friday night when my flight arrives at 1 a.m. But also the car rental place closes at midnight, which is swell.

And the Saturday morning flights are absolute shite.

It was either that or go work from ATL or LGA or JFK for three hours mid-Friday. Which … I was planning to do but god forbid. God. For. Bid.

In any event, I probably spent an extra $300 on a shitty flight out of a shitty airport. But whatever money I save, I can apply toward shipping shit home to not deal with instead of paying to not deal with it up there.

I did allow myself one full day at the beginning and at the end for enjoying my city. The other days, out in the burbs for storage and working.

I figure one full day to really rip the place apart, and five days to work and agonize. Which … are synonyms?

I spent half my drive home from Orlando yesterday voice texting Mom.

It occurred to me for the millionth time that having her to talk to, at least gave me the strength to go back and deal with Brad and Brad Jr.

I don’t really have that anymore.

So I either have to maintain my grey rock that I show him/them …

Or else I have to find a way to not have to bottle up my feelings to the point of wanting to fling myself off my fifth-floor balcony 17 times a day.

It’s 5 p.m., where is your AI slop assignment for the night?

To be called not productive, man. I spent last Sunday night editing a 30 page dossier that was well researched and for someone I love dearly.

Wanting to get up and away from my cats and my football to do something for someone who will just complain on my review that I don’t work on his newsletter … not as motivating as y’all want to think it is.

Just woke up at 3:17 a.m. with night terrors. Again.

Soothed myself by canceling my 1-on-1 series with Brad Jr.

I wasn’t even supposed to be home on this Saturday night (now Sunday morning).

I had driven to Orland on Wednesday morning to spend the day at Epcot with my cousins. (The littlest one turned 3 yesterday!)

I had such a rotten Tuesday that I didn’t get moving on time Wednesday. So the day was half gone by the time I got there.

Didn’t see them at all Thursday.

Friday, I finally gave up on work and got to see them for an hour for dinner.

I realized in a big way that Brad used “you aren’t a good enough performer” to terrorize/motivate me.

I realized in a big way that Brad Jr. is doing the same goddamned thing.

It hit me around 4 a.m. today that I felt like shit for all those Brad years while I did his job and mine.

It hit me around 4:13 a.m. that Brad Jr. has spoken to my team once in five years and is threatening to “pull the records” to prove our productivity sucks.

I am so goddamned tired of running my mental health into the ground trying to prove people wrong whose opinion I would never consider otherwise.

Why am I home on Saturday instead of Sunday?

Because he handed me 4,000 words of un fact checked AI and told me to “find someone to edit it.”

Who are all these mythical people? The same ones who are supposed to be helping me produce 80 extra articles a week?

Can’t wait to ruin yet another Sunday working.

Just to be told I’m not productive. Again.

I wanted to say this blessing for me but honestly it’s good for anyone who needs it.

May your day run as easily as water.

And like Kelly says, don’t be someone’s cup of tea when you can be their laxative. Move that shit.

I spent way too much time being angry the past few weeks.

I guess it’s good to feel alive again?

Don’t tell anyone or else they’ll take the credit for it.

Someone told me their belief is that the family you build here on earth, is the family you’ll have in heaven.

That’s a Mormon thing. Bound for eternity.

They said that to me when mom passed. I think it was their way of offering comfort.

And even then, I wasn’t so sure.

On another occasion, I told him about this great love that never worked out. And we had agreed, “Next life.” As this one was not meant to be.

I don’t know that this person is open to ideas. It doesn’t matter. As long as WE aren’t bound for eternity.

I suppose we both believe in a soul circle.

But I had asked a psychic long ago, what if I don’t want someone in my circle anymore?

The psychic had explained that we all vibrate at different frequencies. So when we all go, if our vibrations aren’t a match, we won’t cross paths in the hereafter.

I couldn’t get much reassurance on future lives — like, can I please avoid Psycho and Beetlejuice and the Treadmill Lady.

But that would assume we’d all choose to incarnate again … or do so at the same time.

In any event, I got to thinking about the owner of the company. How lovable he is. Don’t get me wrong, likable isn’t always easy. but lovable, yes.

Him, I would work for again. Not any single one of the people he hired above me.

Like, I hired a little soul circle. I’m crazy about them. We can all meet up again.

Of course, I meant to write about the ethereal soul circle, but it’s back to being all about work.

Mom’s dying wish was for me to do good/be good/eat good.

Her LIVING wish was for me to find something else to do with my life.

We had a stressful company meeting this week. The nice thing I’ll say about it is my boss had the respect for me to prepare me for it.

A friend called me after and said wow I didn’t realize how unimpressive (list of names) were.

I said yeah try sitting in a Tuesday meeting with all of them, talking about nothing. But somehow I am the reason why the company isn’t living up to Joseph Smith’s First Vision.

It kind of clicked for me that I have shown bosses greatness. And any performance that’s less than greatness gets a low score and earns me stress that I’m not performing enough.

That same person who called, we had an emergency this week. I said to them oh I’m sorry, I have to write all these articles nobody is going to read. I don’t have bandwidth for emergencies anymore.

It was sarcastic. And I learned about the situation and realized there was nothing I could do about it anyway. But cue Paris Paloma, “YOU MAKE ME DO SO MUCH LABOR.”

Emotional labor.

In any event, my ethereal soul circle is probably sick of me.

I haven’t asked them for any help lately, though.

Ain’t that the way. The more fucked up life gets, the less I reach out to my ancestors.

Don’t get me wrong. I know THEY know.

I need to work today (Sunday). But I need to clean and feed my altar.

Well-fed ancestors protect you from thirsty bitches.

In any event, my unimpressed friend is so glad to be on my team.

I refuse to accept hearing the word “lazy.” If having bandwidth is lazy … OK.

Wait till the zine writers revolt over the new mandatory daily meeting before the market opens.

I can’t believe how much money I am about to spend to stay outside Pittsburgh for two weeks, to be working every day but the day I fly in.

Firstname. Lastname.

A city in Texas. And a color.

The name of an ’80s movie and an off-Broadway musical. And the name of a RHOBH character who lives on the main road.

Remember, people don’t quit workplaces.

They quit bosses.

Amend that to add, they quit when they have to have 37 meetings a week and can’t get out of the meeting with the dipshit on the treadmill.

Get ’em, ancestors.

After I blocked my friend on FB who asked if I was anti-Semitic, I forgot about her.

She messaged last night through Insta to ask if she was blocked because she asked if I was anti-Semitic.

I deleted it. Didn’t block.

I don’t discount the years of friendship. I also have no goddamn energy left for this discussion.

At the point I feel like I need to edit or censor the memes I post … nah.

Saw a great meme and I think I saved it. That “You don’t have to block a Gemini. They won’t be calling you.”

That popped into my head as I saw two of my college friends discussing the return of Chi-Chi’s.

I’d made the comment that I invested in their Reg-CF. Meaning, my little check is part of the reason it’s back. (Also my shares are down, but whatcha gonna do.)

It occurred to me that there was a third person in that chat who wasn’t me.

For real, asshole? You have ME blocked? For what?

Like the meme says, you are in NO danger of hearing from me.

I never understood him. Not to invoke him, as I was pretty aware as I walked through Brooklyn that Beetlejuice could pop out of any local graveyard.

I was so aware that I didn’t even look up his address. Like … I put the protective bubble around me, and I’m thrilled I got out of there without his whiny little bitch ass seeing me.

But he de-friended and blocked me across seven platforms. And there are like six new platforms since then that he probably blocked me on too.

Christ, whatever the obsession is, I hope you’ve let it go. Or maybe you and Cindy can compare notes, as I’m sure she unblocks me daily to see how much happier I am now that I unloaded all these losers from my life.