Caterwauling

How is it only Wednesday? How?!?!

It’s been a good week. Markedly improved over last. I’m more focused, although I HAVE to be. Deadlines and such, y’know?

I think I have two very strong candidates for the two open positions for which I’m hiring. One’s going to bring a few sticky problems with getting a work visa. And I know unemployment blows in this country, and believe me, it hurts my heart that the talent pool is about fingertip-deep. But I have such specialized needs that I can’t just hire any idiot and hope for the best. We’ve tried that already. Which is why we’re trying another way!

The problem is, I had some really good interviews. And those people are stalking me. And I would have taken a chance on any of them in a heartbeat. But I also don’t have the final say. So, in a decision-by-committee situation, I’ve gone the route of believing in Santa Claus. I have three requirements for these positions. And the two “winners” (can I call the race so soon?) let me believe in Santa, the Tooth Fairy AND the Easter Bunny.

What’s funny about the whole hiring process is the wide array of applicants. I have everything from fresh-out-of-college kids asking for six figures, to laid-off vice presidents at the (formerly) Big Banks who are STALKING me and only asking for $30K/year.

And don’t get me wrong — the JPMorgan guy and the Morgan Stanley dude would do JUST fine with little training. But … they’d also hit the bricks the moment the economy turns around.

I kind of hate having people’s fate in my hands like that. I don’t want them to think I’m violating any EEOC rules and not considering them because of their, ah, extensive experience. I just know not to waste my time (or, too much of it, as some of these stalkers are trying to bully me into interviewing them. Which is a tactic I’ve used myself. Successfully, at that. Surprisingly enough).

But what said stalkers must understand is that I’m wearing several capes right now, and having extraneous conversations goes to the bottom of the to-do list that’s about as long as a James Michener novel. And if my inability to call you right back at your convenience offends you, just WAIT till you get a dose of the CrankyPants on the phone!

But I’ve been there. God, I’ve been there. And a LOT of people wasted MY time, too. Between impossible editing tests and six rounds of interviews that didn’t so much as garner me a courtesy call to say they hired someone else, I know. Between living hand-to-mouth and not having next month’s rent or, hell, that week’s electric bill, I know. Not having a single soul to rely on if I get kicked out on the streets .. trust me, I KNOW.

I am looking forward to the “Glenda the Good Witch” moment when I can make two offers. Because this is my chance to build my team with MY people. I inherited a gaggle of great people, overall. Quirky as fuck, most of them, but in a generally lovable way. And at a time when the houseguest is like a bad employee who keeps getting fired but keeps showing up (and getting paid for nothing), and at a time when I’d go crazy if I actually TRIED to attack my whole to-do list, bringing in people who worship the very ground I fall on will be a nice change of pace.

Florida has been good for me. As I interviewed someone today who has had a very abbreviated version of my career path, I was proud to say that the person she met briefly a few years back is different now. Sure, I CAN work 14 hours a day again. And some times, I will have to. But I’ve found a bit of a balance that I never would have dreamed of allowing myself back in D.C. I HAD to overachieve. I HAD to haul ass. I was green in my field and I was hell-bent on learning everything I could. Now I can kind of chill. I know my shit. No one can pull the knowledge out of my head, or the experience out of my pocket. It is worth waiting for. I promise!

What I loved about my interviewees is that they’re still hungry. You get a lot of laid-back people in Florida. They don’t have the drive that we did in the Big City. We dress differently at the beach. We move a little more slowly. We know we deserve sunshine and time to enjoy our nice weather. We know things will get done and everything will be all right.

Or maybe the rest of the world was always like that, but I’ve only just now discovered how much BETTER life can be if only you choose to live it and not put it on hold indefinitely.

But, I still have some of my city-inspired expectations. Like, the lack of hunger for more responsibility, or to impress one’s elders, frustrates the FUCK out of me.

I was thinking about one in particular today — “toying” with the thought, if you will — how at that age/position/experience I would have been crafting projects for myself to impress my superiors — to get them to notice me. Hell, to ensure that I would still have a job the next day.

I appreciate when people ask how they can help, but when I’m changing from my Wonder Woman cape to my Bat Girl getup, I need people to play nice by themselves.

And I would CERTAINLY make the time to read a well-thought-out marketing plan on how to revamp the Web sites or how to monetize social media (and thus to make the case for utilizing it), if anyone thought TAKING THE INITIATIVE to hand me one might be a good idea.

Don’t get me wrong — I like lazy time. I believe that downtime is a great creativity enhancer. But if you’re gonna show up at work, grab a spare cape and figure out how to fly, because THAT is where I’m going to see you and think about taking you with me on the journey!

What a weird week. Mostly in a good way, though.

Several of my beloveds from “up north” are in town.

I spent Wednesday and Thursday with one, eating oysters and foie gras and the most-amazing peanut-butter pie over expensive red wines on Atlantic Avenue. And I spent last night with my beloved Goddess Sabre and her family, in from D.C. for her son’s graduation.

The diet? Is blown, by the way. Pudge muffin. Yaar. And I don’t suppose heading out of the country for the next seven days is going to do any favors to my waistline!

I had two major battles to resolve before Friday. (Hence, the drinking. En masse.) And despite numerous odds stacked against each deal, I prayed for miracles to prevail. I had half of Facebook praying along with me, after I did everything I could and the rest, as they say, was in God’s hands.

The result? Not so good on one account, but progress on the other.

One of my Twitterfriends posted a link to a commencement speech from 2005. And I’m bored and actually sitting upright from the three-day boozefest that just concluded. (Fat. Ass.)

I HIGHLY recommend you read that speech. It was the reality check I didn’t get until I’d been out of college for six months.

I can quote a passage from it, to give some perspective on what went down this week in Goddess’ world, mostly because I know the person who NEEDS to read it is READING THIS RIGHT NOW.

“Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.”

I’m just mad because there are too many people who wear their diagnoses like a decorated soldier. Once you discover exactly how fucked up you are, you’re supposed to work on it, right? Let me clarify: You work on FIXING it, not PERFECTING the psychosis.

And from where I stand now, they just seem so small and petty and insignificant. Sound and fury, signifying nothing. The very large butt of a very big joke. The one whose epitaph will read nothing more than a name, whose final resting ground has grass that’s dry and brown and dead from everyone in THIS generation who pissed on it, the way everything in which they believed was pissed upon.

In any event, I’m just mad that Lilith Fair has a sucky lineup in West Palm (and I spent a lot of money on tickets), but it looks fabulous for Washington, D.C. I mean, throw a girl some Missy Higgins here, pretty please?

(Hello, no transition between subjects!)

I invited one of my up-north friends to come down here for the concert. I’d rather go up north and see it there instead, truth be told. (I’m happy to see Sarah McLachlan and Sia here. But Indigo Girls! Missy Higgins! Sara Bareilles! Are in my homeland but NOT HERE. GAH.)

In any case, that invitation was made in one of my liquid-courage moments.

But what’s so funny is that it’s perfectly the norm to ask someone to fly somewhere for an event. Just like I have plane tickets booked for the rest of the year for one-day meetings and weekend events. I love that this is my new normal.

This year, I’ve decided to simply hop on a plane and just DO shit, when opportunity arises. Life’s too short to sit on a pile of “somedays,” especially after too many YEARS have been robbed of me otherwise.

“I’ve been running all my life
I ran away, I ran away from good
Yeah I’ve been waiting all my life
You’re not a day, you’re not a day too soon.”

– Sia, “Day Too Soon”

Even if I only get two hours of face time with a long-distance friend here and there, it’s two hours I didn’t have otherwise.

So, M, I’ll see you in Sonoma; C, I’ll see you in Philly; V, I’ll see you in West Palm; B, I’ll catch up with you in Baltimore; L — Key West, here we come; and to whomever is in my life then, we have a hot date in Mexico at the end of summer.

And all these thoughts will keep me warm when I’m freezing my Florida-girl ASS off in Canada on Monday!

City Sky from CityPlace

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I feel like I need to blog. I don’t know why. There’s nothing I can type aloud. And yet, here I am.

My trip to Baltimore/D.C. has resulted in a lot of lingering thoughts. Far from closing any doors (which was never my intention anyway), it opened so many more.

I would never claim to be settled in my career, but I’m happy. Well, like a friend pointed out, anything seems better in comparison to a Thai brothel, so there you have it. I’m trying hard not to get to the overworked state with which I am altogether too familiar. Because it’s too damn easy to get there.

So, I keep my energy and my hours in check, and while I stress out that some shit should have been done a long time ago, I acknowledge that I have the same hours in the day as everyone else. And if it ain’t life-or-death, don’t treat it as though it were.

I remember hauling ass and working seven days a week for five months. No church or Weight Watchers meetings. Nothing for me. And I did it, you know? These days, I look back and wonder FOR WHAT? (Think “tree falling in the forest.”)

I killed myself trying to be perfect and productive for someone who could give a shit less about my well-being. I got criticized at every available opportunity. For nothing and by nobody. And my commitment was rewarded with distrust and disregard.

To quote a wonderful Lucy Woodward song, “Something like this only happens to dumb girls.”

Relationships, well, were never my weakness nor my strong point. Another friend once said that witnessing my career has been like watching me pick one loser after another.

I always figured I’d be divorced by now; I can certainly say that leaving a certain job was pretty much the equivalent of dissolving a partnership and having nothing … not even anger or hatred … left. We should have lived together before we got married. The end. Take back the ring — it was probably cubic zirconia anyway.

But yeah, onto matters of the heart, there were some doors opened up north. Maybe even re-opened.

I had Tweeted something along the lines of spending an evening with someone I loved with all my heart, a long time ago, and then having an encounter with someone with whom I could very well spend the rest of my life.

I’ve since been in contact with both. Both are heading my way at some point in the next couple of months.

Nature will take its course here. It always does. It’s impossible to meet people near my age in South Florida, so if my fate is to be entangled with people from Maryland, so be it!

Speaking of city folk, I got my new iPad on Friday. It’s the 3G, so that was when it shipped. (i’ve had this thing on pre-order for what feels like FOREVER.) I haven’t gotten the 3G service yet, but it’s good to have the option.

Anyway, when I got my first iPhone, I’d say five out of six of my friends had one. Technology was nothing new among our group of friends. I was the oldest and yet the poorest, but my money (what little was left over) was earmarked for technology.

Down here in Florida, I have better luck with AT&T (fewer dropped calls. Note I said ‘fewer’, not ‘never’). That’s because nobody down here has a clue about technology. Hence, I’m the only iPad owner in Palm Beach County. And, quite possibly, Martin and Broward counties.

No big deal, really. I just took my iPad to Sunfest (the accompanying photo is from the closing fireworks display) and the girl who was searching my bag lost her shit and was thrilled to be able to touch ‘one of those iPad thingies.’

I enjoyed the attention, but marveled at how different things are in the city, where I was keeping up with the Joneses. And now, I AM the Joneses! Or Jones. Or what the hell ever.

Exhaustion is kicking in. I have some work to finish up tonight, but I’m not even going to bother. It’s nothing personal toward the job; I just don’t have any more productive hours left in me today.

I look forward to falling asleep and, perchance, of dreaming of the possibilities that not only lie ahead, but might be enough to make me backtrack … both in time and perhaps in geography.

I was going to type that the inmates are running the asylum today, but:

A) I’m no longer in prison.
B) Come to think of it, I’ve been promoted to warden!

I was brave last night and had dinner at the “bad” end of town, as I like to call it. I figured there was no chance of running into anyone I didn’t want to see. Which, luckily, I didn’t. *whew*

But it reminded me of the last time I went to said restaurant. It was a particularly long day, and an even-longer night was ahead.

Someone had made a very odd comment to me in the midst of it all. That wasn’t unusual. And even the comment itself, while mind-boggling in and of itself, was pretty normal (given the source). I believe the term “backhanded” comes into play here.

So I decided to go grab some food from said restaurant. How do I put this cryptically — perhaps I can say that the comment was totally negated during the walk. Yeah, I’ll leave it at that. I wasn’t surprised in the least, but I was used to things taking a little longer than half an hour to unravel.

It was the last time I ate at that place, and the memory nearly tainted my yummy french fries last night.

A thought occurred to me at some point, about how we choose to spend our time. How we feel obligated to stay in one place for whatever the reason — we need to give it more time. We need to be patient and understanding. We “owe” somebody something.

Need, need, need.

Damn it, the only thing we NEED to do is to exercise free will.

Thank God I did.

Thank God, indeed.

‘Cause nobody owes us SHIT, and that’s exactly what they’ll give us for as long as we let them.

Shit has an expiration date, kids. Don’t keep it any longer than you need to.

And that’s my public service message for today.

I realize that this blog is dead and should have gone away a long time ago. But now, it’s almost become something sentimental. Sure, I have one reader (*waves at Vitamin D*), but even I don’t read it anymore for errors!

Anywho, I got to thinking yesterday as I was having breakfast with a wonderful contact from Nu Yawk, what the hell am I doing? Moreover, what am I NOT?

I feel like I work in an industry where anybody can be a famous expert. And I AM an expert … just not a famous one.

It used to be that age and experience were what qualified you to become a household name. But now, people who were born in the ’80s are considered to be more-wise than ME. And hey, more power to them.

But when it boils right down to it, my knowledge and experience is no less valuable. Plus, I have the benefit of having learned from many masters.

The bulk of people seem to have popped right out of the womb college and, boom, here’s your shot — don’t blow it. *sigh* And it’s a toss-up whether they want to learn from someone more-seasoned or whether they already know everything at 22.

I mean, shit, *I* knew everything at 22. And look how well THAT turned out. Pfft.

So, with the benefit of dozens of years and thousands of miles behind me, what the hell is stopping me from greatness in my own right?

Hmm. Not bloody much, eh?

“She went away, she cut me like a knife
Hello beautiful thing, maybe you could save my life
In just a glance, down here on magic street
Loves a fool’s dance
And I ain’t got much sense, but I still got my feet.”

Bruce Springsteen, “Girls in Their Summer Clothes”