Paris and mountains

February 17th, 2018, 11:18 AM by Goddess

Had dinner with my old boss last night. Not any of the crazy-useless men; this is the 29-year-old female who starts her new job on Tuesday. The one I never dreamed I would like and respect so much. The one who helped me to get to where I am today.

We had beer and fries, as we do when we are together. We also share a birthday — and it’s strange to believe there’s a 15-year age gap, because we are so alike.

Even if this brief friendship ends here, it already gave us so much more than a lifetime of knowing another person could.

She was proud of me that I hooked up my would-be boss with a gal who used to report to me. I said I really had her spirit in my heart when that all came together. We girls have to look out for each other, and do.

I also got to make a job offer to another girl who used to work for both of us. At a real salary this time. All she has to do is accept it.

We fist-bumped and ordered another round. To JT. To MC. To DE., who couldn’t make it because she bought a last-second plane ticket to see her daughter at college before her own new job starts Tuesday.

To us. To wherever life takes us next.

“Sometimes, sometimes we can see beyond our history
The last place you hope to find
The one that´s been there all the time.

Sometimes, sometimes we can swim beyond the scenery
And the first place that’s on your mind
The first place you´d find each time.”

— Beth Orton, “Paris Train”

The card I gave her had mountains on the front — something she never saw in person till last week. It said the journey of a thousand steps isn’t the hard part; it’s the first one that’s a real doozy. We laughed over that.

We both got what we wanted. Control for me, freedom for her. A complete switch from this time last week.

I should say, we both got what we wanted NEXT. After that, she’s in search of more mountains. As for me, I said Paris is what I want.

I opened up about Sia. How her mom had houses in Paris and Germany; how she was going to show me Europe. But alas, our workaholic ways kept us apart. And one day, she went to step on a plane out of Vancouver and her heart gave out.

In a way, mine did too. I stopped dreaming about Paris because I didn’t have anyone to go with, anymore.

My friend said save your money, and get your ass to Paris. If that’s what you get out of your new job, it will be worth it.

We hugged tightly and parted ways. Maybe forever, maybe for a few weeks. She’s moving to my old stomping grounds and I’m planning to move to hers. But we’ll always have Ireland — well, rather, the Irish bar right-smack at the halfway point that we love so much.

What an awesome/awful year behind us both. And what a wonderful/ridiculous one ahead. If we can just stay focused on where we want to be at the end of it, we will turn out OK once again.



Being Viola

February 15th, 2018, 8:43 AM by Goddess

“You wanted to be where you are
But it looked much better from afar
A hillside in shadow between the people and the stars

Twelfth night, we go
After something everyone should know
Somewhere in the distance out of sight.”

— Gin Blossoms, “Pieces of the Night”

I feel like Viola, the heroine of “Twelfth Night.” To recall the “Shakespeare in Love” movie ending that set up the coming of that play, I feel like her as she married her rich king and sailed off to America with him … while leaving her beloved poet behind.

The torture she felt. The knowing she would love this man until she left this mortal coil. The sadness at how she didn’t feel anywhere near the same way about the man with whom she was about to start a new life.

And her grace at being able to say goodbye … to remind Will to redirect his sorrow into magnificent prose … to steel herself for the journey ahead, and whatever joy and sadness it would bring.

I will always miss my “Will.” And though my “king” is a great man, it hurt to matchmake T. with someone else.

It’s over now. It was the moment I drove to his office to withdraw my acceptance of his offer.

Time to stop looking back, and to start looking ahead at my chosen path.

And now, I sail on.



Girl power and other things swirling around in my squash

February 14th, 2018, 6:51 AM by Goddess

My life is a Joni Mitchell album.

When I was interviewing with T., he kept talking about profit-sharing. Like, stick with me and you’ll own part of this empire.

I heard that from LVP, and I said so. We all know what a world-class liar LVP is.

T said well yeah. But LVP didn’t even own the biz. Not his place to promise you jack. I however do have that power. Mission 1: Serve the customers great stuff you can be proud of. Mission 2: Share in the profits and keep the team small to keep the profits bigger.

I told him that it all sounded like a Joni Mitchell song. Cue up some “Cactus Tree”:

“He has seen her at the office
With her name on all his papers
Through the sharing of the profits
He will find it hard to shake her
From his memory
And she’s so busy being free.”

I meant that in the best way possible.

Here in post-breakup/stayed with the guy you finally got brave enough to leave land, cue “A Case of You”:

“Go to him
Stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed.
Oh but you are in my blood
You’re my holy wine
You’re so bitter
Bitter and so sweet.”

Monday night, I was up with a never-ending series of panic attacks.

But Tuesday was OK. Calm. The only thing that annoyed me was getting into a fight with someone about why I don’t want to move my computer into my new office RIGHT THIS SECOND. And then telling her fine, I will pick out some whiteboards. Where do I want them? I dunno, I guess here. Then being told I was making a bad choice and she would put them THERE. Oh and I should have more furniture — look how bare it is in here. And what make you face the desk to the window like that — you moved that yourself?!

NO NO NO.

I’ve had plenty enough with men putting doubt in my head. Two men saying don’t go to the other. Men historically underpaying me and telling me to be grateful. Men basically forbidding me from having a break or a life but not missing a moment of theirs. Don’t you start any kind of “mean girl” crap with me because I have enough swirling around in my squash.

Speaking of mean girls …

I really thought my recent boss was going to be a mean girl. We got off to a rocky start. I get why now. She loved my sarcasm but didn’t want it to affect her girls. Girls she took care of and helped and promoted and really gave a fighting chance to.

Girls who won’t return her calls or agree to go to a happy hour in her honor that I am trying to pull together.

Bitches. Good to see what I’m REALLY up against.

My boss is a total girl’s girl. She prepared me for the fight of my life. Her friendship was genuine and her advice was spot-on. I got the result I wanted. I’m pretty sure it was the result SHE wanted.

You know who’s coming to that happy hour? MY friends. My two amazing friends who got nothing from her but who love and respect her because she is a good person who was good to ME.

Moral to this story — I wanted to leave with my friends. I loved us all quitting on the same day. But we will still all be friends for at least a short, and hopefully a long, time to come.

This place brought us together. It didn’t turn out the way any of us thought it would. I mean, I joined first and I’m watching them go and I’m staying to run the place.

It’s mind-boggling. Just in November, I had joked that, when I was being laid off, I’d stay and keep working without the paycheck like Milton in “Office Space.”

Shit, my new office is our old Storage Room B that they cleared out because they realized a woman needs a room of her own. Who says you don’t speak your own fate into existence?

In any event, behind every man — great or otherwise — is a group of girlfriends like us. And which man doesn’t matter. It’s honoring those who helped us and then helping the next generation that will be what defines our success.



Two tits, a hole and a heartbeat. Heartbeat optional

December 31st, 2017, 8:52 AM by Goddess

This before-and-after set of pics is probably three years in the making. Probably 40 pounds’ difference between the two.

Minus my post-Christmas binge — because they brought fresh donuts into work on the big Layoff Day, and a girl can only handle so much. But I wish I had feasted on unique Christmas treats rather than Dunkin and then whatever else I found in the house that night — I probably ended the year 10 pounds lighter.

As for 2018, this is the first year I haven’t listed “losing weight” as one of my resolutions.

“Getting my shit together, for realz this time” is my goal.

I know I have plenty more pounds to shed. But I am the same economically insecure girl who blows all her money at Ross Dress for Less and buys her mom all the decorations and sugary treats she wants because who knows if *this* is going to be her last birthday/holiday/summer/etc. so let’s spoil her while we have her.

And I wouldn’t say I’m lonely. But I mean, I had three social invites this weekend and I turned them ALL down because I knew it would cause tension at home. Even after I said no to everything, she still said I get an attitude and that “well you can do whatever you want.” Well yeah, I *can* but at what cost?

In fact, the people at the Christmas party I attended liked me so much, the neighbors — who are hosting the New Year’s party — asked me to come. I could have an instant “friend family” if I wanted.

And I wanted. But … I really don’t mind my quiet little life. And at least I don’t have to worry about Mom being all alone. (She was invited to every event, by the way. THAT is how nice these people are.)

I love the idea of having great neighbors and having your kids and pets grow up together. Everyone takes turns hosting the parties. Everyone brings side dishes and silverware and presents and wine and extra plates and spare chairs.

The people having the New Year’s party even brought a Christmas present for me. So, it’s heartwarming to know there are still amazing people out there. Wish they were *my* neighbors.

I am somewhat bummed another year has gone by with no one special to speak of. The past bunch of guys I’ve met are pretty much looking for *anyone* rather than for *me.*

Two tits, a hole and a heartbeat.

Heartbeat probably optional.

And to be fair, I’ve sort of felt the same way. Not that I want just anyone. But that, sure, any one of them could very well be the one. Or not.

And I’d be just fine either way.

I always have it on my New Year’s resolution list to:

“Get a good-looking man with sharp financial sense who likes to travel and eat healthy and gives me just as much space as I need to keep me interested. Owns a condo or house with a water view and modern amentiies. Has a nice extended or adopted family to spend the occasional holiday with. Makes me feel adored and turns me on with just his very existence.”

(I’m not particular or anything!)

Maybe this is part of the “getting my shit together” year. Hopefully there’s a man out there getting HIS shit together and the universe says OK, time to meet.

Or not. Whichever. I know I’ll still be fine either way.

(But really, I do need to get my shit together. For realz this time.)



You were you, and he was him … and that was that

December 30th, 2017, 1:02 PM by Goddess

I wrote a post this morning (unpublished, to protect the famous and, really, the infamous) with the title “You were you, and he was him … and that was that.” That one was about a job interview that went horribly.

But I like the title. And since I’m not going to publish it anytime soon, I want to use it on another topic.

It’s funny how relationships, as they were, flame out at warp speed these days. I mean, they never did last for me even before Teh Intarwebz. But now, man …

1. Boy sends friend request.

2. Girl accepts.

3. Boy sees all the cat photos and wine photos and things posted by her mother, and runs screaming at the thought of coupling with the crazy drunk cat lady with the crazier mother.

4. The end.

I mean, jeez. At least let me get into the relationship for a minute and a half before you uncover all the crazy.

But that leaves the heroine of our “See Spot Run Screaming” book with a conundrum …

Do you say:

1. Fuck it, this is who I am — no apologies? … or

2. Fuck it, social media isn’t worth it — they can’t learn anything about you if it isn’t “out there”?

I don’t know. What I do know is that a date would have been nice.