Caterwauling

Every day I say my little mantras as I drive to work. Thank you, God, for keeping me safe from these Floridian death angels on the road. Thank you, God, for giving me a job to go to. Thank you, God, for the good day I’m about to have or, at least, for the paycheck I’ll get either way.

I don’t have bad days, though. I have days that have parts I’d like to light on fire, but I don’t let one or two (or five) crazy things taint the day.

Today started off with me not really dressing up as I tend to. I felt really blah and I certainly look it. The one thing I asked God for today was, “I know I ask to run into a certain person. Today, I’d be really happy if we didn’t cross paths.”

And God laughed heartily.

I was feeling and looking like hell. And I was exhausted and couldn’t even talk. I explained, “No verbal ability at this hour!” and that was that. He showed me his venti Starbucks and nodded knowingly.

Then I made the mother of all boo-boos on a subject line that was only seen by about a quarter-million people. I let the right people know about it — I put a word in that didn’t belong; it was an easy fix on the Web site but DAMN this was an amateur mistake. GAH.

I’ve been trying to unload one of my freelance gigs. By rights I should unload both, but I feel very insecure right now and like knowing I have the ability to pay rent next month. But the third gig, I’ve been begging for them to replace me. It’s easy work and they pay well enough. But I realized that it’s not work that’s sharpening my skills at all. It’s not adding to my enjoyment of life or giving me a feeling of achievement. Ergo, in this case time is worth more than money.

They finally heeded my pleas to let me go … under the condition that I find my replacement. *headslam* Because I don’t have enough time to DO the work, I have to hire a replacement too?!?!

They love me. They really do. They tell me they can’t replace me, so the next-best thing is me naming a replacement. I don’t have people like that, falling all over me and telling me how fabulous I am. That’s because I’m not DOING anything fabulous. I get a panic attack when I take on an ounce more work — like, hey, I’m prone to fucking up right now … you sure you want to give me that, too?

I think about all of my friends with kids and wonder how they do it — how do you work all day, do other stuff at night, spend time with your family, lose sleep and then get up and do it all again? Toss in all the other worries (financial, vehicular, familial, etc. — and all at once, I might add) and how do you put in a productive eight hours at the place that pays you to be your best?

I can’t be the only one who’s this nuts, right? Other people have managed, yes? This too shall pass and wonderful things will happen when everything starts to “come together.” But how do you keep from falling apart, day after day, in the meantime?

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Kadie loves clean sheets

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Sometimes life goes by too quickly; other times it can’t go quickly enough.

Still waiting for resolution on the princes. The faraway prince basically said he knows what ring he’d buy and he’s prepared to do a whirlwind wedding upon an enchanted meeting. The nearby prince didn’t call yesterday. I’m losing my mind in the meantime.

I explained the situation to my faraway prince. That I want to make the right choice. But that certain freelance decisions I’ve made have taken away the luxury for me to make a well-thought-out choice now.

I was so certain I wanted the nearby prince. But then when I woke up this morning, I thought, hmm, I really like that faraway one.

Here’s my dilemma. I could see myself becoming fast and easy friends with everyone in his kingdom. And that is something that’s very important to me.

But … let me tell you a little something about working with/for friends. DON’T DO IT. I think certain friends of mine are counting on me always being nice, never putting up a fuss, always acquiescing when it comes time to fighting for what’s owed to me.

Speaking of which, I could tell you the story about when I got an e-mail that sent me straight over the edge. (I remember it like it was yesterday. Probably because it was.)

But the moral to the story is this: Suddenly, the nearby prince became more attractive in that nobody knows thing one about me. I can reinvent myself here.

Not that I’d give up being patient or understanding or even nice. I’m not changing my character at age 37 here. But I have the chance to remove the “sucker” tattoo from my forehead and start anew.

I want the faraway prince. But I think I need the nearby one.

Head or heart — who wins?

I often curse the day I left D.C. I KNEW Florida was going to be a disaster. I mean, I hoped otherwise. But in my gut, I didn’t have a good feeling. Yet I embarked on the journey anyway.

And as I was telling one of my bestest friends in the world yesterday, I needed to come here to meet my new best friends. I wouldn’t have known them if I hadn’t taken the chance on something entirely new.

And maybe I am thinking out this decision as much as it needs to be, and I simply just don’t have an answer. Either one is a leap of faith. It comes down to which one gets me out of the house (I already bought some new dresses — these people dress up, yo) and which one gets me working with friends who pay.

I figured yesterday would bring resolution. Maybe today it will. I need to pull it together in the meantime; but I’ve had enough uncertainty and I want to just know what’s next. There’s plenty of time to regret whatever the decision is later.

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My lovely bride friend

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I stayed away from the computer and my imaginary princes and went to a true fairytale wedding this weekend.

My beautiful bride friend has had me tagging along with her since the beginning — from picking the place all the way through to the cake tasting. The hotel staff treated me as a guest of honor even though all I did was go along for the ride.

But may I just say, I’ve lost a lot of faith in love and hope and humanity through the years, and just this one night gave it all back to me … and then some. I never dreamed all this existed. Or that it could happen for me, too. And I really want it to.

Seeing two people who are truly made for each other, with the perfect wedding day despite the torrential downpours that canceled out their beachside ceremony, taught me that the sun shines if you let it. As one of my brilliant companions said to me, “The sun is shining wherever she is,” about our lovely, beaming bride.

At the reception, I had the opportunity to connect with some people I loved and, by my own choosing, lost. Silly, I know. But the environment in which I had left them was treacherous. Cutting ties was, I figured, for their benefit. But in the end, what happened was we lost a year and a half of friendship. And that shit ends here.

And a couple of those friends placed me right back on my pedestal, which made me woozy after being knocked down so much and for so long. I forgot how nice the view was … how special people really thought I was. All I do anymore is doubt myself and, unfortunately, screw up accordingly in support of my poor mental mapping.

What can I say? I am my own crown of thorns. (Hat-tip to Sandra Bullock in “Hope Floats” there.)

My update on my three princes is such that I still have the first one on bended knee, but not for long. The carriage turns back into a pumpkin today unless I say otherwise.

The faraway prince asked me to stall the ready prince for two weeks. He ain’t proposing till he’s ready.

The third prince whom I dearly love is hoping to hit the lottery in the meantime.

I know it’s the next (big) step in my career. But when it all comes down to it, isn’t it just a job? I can’t quite figure it out. This means everything to me right now. I have to pick right. I also have to pick soon. Can our princess get everything she wants?

To complicate matters, wouldn’t you know it that our princess has been offered three dates in the meantime?

I seriously don’t get polygamy on the relationship front, and I don’t know how the hell to handle it professionally. But I do hope to get married and keep one or two boytoys on the side. Professionally, of course. Shit, I can’t even get one good man, let alone find three at once! Not that that will stop me from looking. …

Today will bring resolution one way or another. I just need one more piece of information before I can knock over the first domino. And then, there ain’t no undoing it. You’d think I’d be grateful for the time of rest (er, unrest), but I’m ready to let go, let God, and get out of the way.

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So … say our heroine had three suitors. And had to choose one of them without having enough information about all of them to feel truly good about her decision.

Perhaps the best metaphor here is that our princess goddess has some wedding proposals to consider and, yet, she hasn’t slept with any of them. (Suspension of disbelief is integral to this exercise!)

Put yourself in her glass slippers for a moment…

Do you pick the nice guy who lives really far away … the guy who reminds you of someone else (both good and bad) who is at least within driving distance … or wait till the awesome guy can afford a ring (and assume he won’t propose without one and you’ll be waiting till the end of time)?

If this were fiction and money weren’t an issue, I’d wait for the prince behind Door No. 3. But money is an issue and one prince is on bended knee and I need to figure out whether the faraway prince can get to that point, um, today.

Either way, I will stay in touch with the third prince … maybe a second marriage is in store. Or, at least, an affair.

Of course, this is what worries me. I have had enough damn divorces. I want to have kids with the next one. (Oh wait, I hate kids. Let me rephrase that.) I want a happily ever after the next time around.

So which of the first two princes can provide me that? And can the first one remain on bended knee till the carrier pigeon gets to the other one, or will I be in danger of becoming a spinster if they all move on without me?

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Toes

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Whenever I question whether living in Florida is right for me, a sign comes along … this time in the form of a reminder that sand is an integral part of our dress code.

Reminds you that everything else is so much less important!

Was just reading an article in the NYT about “decision fatigue.” Not that this is a new concept, by any means. (How many of us stare at stock charts all day and DON’T walk away with “analysis paralysis”? Same thing.)

I giggled at the line toward the end that you shouldn’t restructure your company at 4 p.m. (A subtle reminder to those who did exactly that, at a frequency of every two months.)

But really, what spoke to me the most was how it affects us po’ folk, especially those of us who SHOULDN’T be dancing on the poverty line because we are fine decision-makers when it comes to other people’s business … but not when it comes to our own.

The concept of trade-offs fascinated me. I mean, I argue with myself at every hour of every day about something. Usually about food. And by the time the end of the day hits, I am so sick of substitutions for what I really want, and bartering at great length (whether with myself or others) about every possible outcome of every damn decision I have to make, that the array of choices, simply, kills me.

Yesterday was a great example. Took the UEOEH from outer space to her favorite bakery, whereupon she gleefully spent my Groupon (and then some). I was good — I ate healthily all day. But come 9 p.m., I was so tired of resisting the big-ass box of treats that I went straight for the chocolate-peanut-butter cupcake. I had half of it, but even that portion was big as my thigh.

Anyway, I’ve been feeling bad that I have some colleagues who work at night and send me e-mails then. But I can’t do it. My ass is off the computer at a reasonable hour. I’m up early and will give everything I’ve got when I’m around. But I know at the end of the night I am all about the, “Fuck it, do whatever you want” response. (Then they get e-mails in the morning with, “Hey, that question you asked? This is what I want.”) Why not skip the middle conversation and reply once?

Same with bowing out of a freelance assignment. God I have argued myself exhausted over whether that was the latest in a string of stupid decisions. My gut says it’s fine. My heart is willing to go along with it. But tell that to my brain.

But that’s the idea behind the article. That rich people don’t make as many trade-offs as the rest of us do. That they can start businesses and have them fail and just ride their little trust funds or ask the parents for the rent this month. Everything is life-or-death for the rest of us. One bad decision means a thousand other things to fix. One bad food choice today can lead to a lifetime of poor eating habits if that’s always the thing that goes to the bottom of the list in importance.

Blame it on the glucose if you must, but it’s good to realize there actually is a biological reason why the most mentally exhausted among us, who are responsible for everyone and everything around us, completely fall down on the job when it comes to our own health and happiness.

Just goes to show that life is all about self-preservation. It’s OK to make a decision simply by NOT making one. That big-ass box of cupcakes in my fridge may ruin my chances of fitting back into my favorite jeans, but if it keeps my mind awake and my mood somewhere above “suicidal,” then Michelle Obama had better add room on her “Food Plate” for frosting.

Of course, with that attitude, how am I going to fit in the dress I bought for this “toes in the sand” event? I already went a size smaller than I should have. Damn it, why can’t a racing mind burn calories the same way a racing body does?

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