Caterwauling

If I owned a share of Apple for every time I started off a post with “I’ve finally figured out what my problem is,” well, I would have as many as I do now. (Four because that shit is expensive. Thanks to Warren Buffett for bringing me back to breakeven.)

Unfortunately, I had an urgent project arrive after I typed that first graf. And I totally forget my grand revelation. 

But I bet it had something to do with transitioning to civilian life. Reading the newspaper. Taking lunches. Going to Starbucks. Putting the key in the ignition during daylight hours — morning and evening. 

I’m caught between feeling like a slacker being like everyone else … and HATING being like everyone else. 

Which I’m not. I know that. I’ll never be like everyone else. But it still feels icky to feel like I might get grouped with the riff-raff. 

I get it though. I do hide. Never have I had a review that praises my communication skills. And I am a Mercury child too — the communicator!

It just always bites me when I communicate. I get comfortable and don’t filter. I get criticized for whatever comes out. So I go the opposite route and say nothing. Or blow my bangs and roll my eyes. 

Growing up, whoever had the best insult won the fight. So I got really good at identifying weakness and coming up with that one quip that would destroy someone. That’s power. 

Granted, my fork-dropping comments are usually funny or at least meant to be. But sometimes I can stab with that fork and you never know when that will happen. So, silence is good. 

Like, I really really want to crack a joke about someone a friend is dating. They may take it in good fun. If it comes out that way, that is. At this point I have to keep my distance. And it’s a shame because I can crack myself up about it. But, you know. Am lady. 

I still don’t recall what was wrong with me. But I do realize I’m growing. Maybe not by others’ standards but I am more aware –more wary. More reserved. Less concerned with dumb shit. 

But I’m also not where I want to be. Whatever or wherever it is. But why do I feel like it isn’t where I am … 

And is it even necessary if others who need to aspire to where I already am, never will?

The definition of insanity is of course doing the same things again and again, in anticipation of a different result. 

Retrograde, and especially this cycle, brings up old and and resolved issues for you to face them head-on. You know, instead of leaving them in the past where they belong. 

In other words, insanity. 

I’ve been having landlord issues again. The resolution is that it’s time to go. I mean it this time. 

Consider that a week ago, my mover butt-dialed me. Which I wasn’t aware one could do with smartphones. But I knew it was a sign.

The next day, two toilets broke and I got in another fight with Scumby the Holy Rolling Handyman. I ended up hiring a pro and instead of biting the cost like my lease says I should, I deducted it from the rent. Hell and warfare ensued. 

I knew the mover calling was a sign.  So for yuks, I found a place in Boca I like. My realtor is seeing if it’s still available. 

What else? Snow White’s Band of Married Men is a good place to start. Especially now that some of them aren’t anymore. Not gonna worry about that until I see a white horse waiting outside this dump. But that would require me giving out my address. Which, fat chance because I’m moving!

Some old work issues have resurfaced too. This retrograde cycle hasn’t been bad; it’s just like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Old issues, new faces. And old issues and old faces too. Another day, another incredibly shrinking paycheck.

The more things change …

Sigh.

One of my old colleagues died.

And lest you think “old” and “long life lived,” let me correct that mindset.

She was young and beautiful and blonde and full of life and always always ALWAYS had a sweet smile and comment for everyone.

We haven’t seen each other in years. But she liked a lot of my Facebook photos and left thoughtful and kind comments when the mood struck. Which, given how beautiful and kind and popular and world-traveler-y as she was, was surprisingly often.

I am super-sad I didn’t get to know her as well as I could.

BUT …

There were a whole bunch of shitheads who were turned off by her beauty. Granted, she didn’t exactly dress in traditional office-wear. She always looked like she was one clothing item away from stripping and going to the beach.

I loved that about her.

She didn’t see her beauty. I mean, maybe she did. But she seemed to love life and it loved her right on back.

Her sister had a baby a few years back. And the baby’s father died very young. So my friend packed up everything and went to be with them. That’s how good a person she is.

I heard she was coming back to town not just a week ago. She checked in from someplace in northern Florida. I figured she was on her way.

She never made it. And, from what I’m gathering, that was her own choice.

I. Am. NOT. OK.

I reached out to the friend who introduced us. I said I can’t picture this crazy world without her helping to make it turn.

Maybe he’ll tell me more. Or confirm what I hope I don’t really know.

Either way.

Lauren, sending you SO MUCH LOVE from our old office in Delray Beach.

Too little too late. But it was always there.

Everyone else, “love the one you’re with” if you must. But maybe just maybe grow a set and love the one you REALLY love — and let them know it and FEEL IT.

You’d be real surprised to know they might have been hoping you’d say just that all along.

Being sick sucks. But I have to say, it happened during a relatively calm week. Blessings, I’m counting ’em. 

You might as well watch a “Real Housewives” marathon instead is trying to work because your computer freezes every time you touch it. Gotta love when you can’t reply to an email because your screen has been white for 10 minutes after trying to open said email. 

It was a snow moon last night. As usual, my phone fails to capture its magnificence. But here was my rooftop view, with the ocean serving as a hidden horizon.

My good friend just lost her mom. My soul is aching and all I want to do is curl up under my desk with the lost pumpkin seeds and dried-up kale chips and just cry for the next eight hours.

Which, you know. Like usual.

A slow hurt.. and it breaks us..
And so down,
Down, down and so plain
So down
When you play some more it seems so
And my friends are past this game
Of breakdowns
And our friends that are lost at sea..
Throw down
And I’ll break the wasted space

— Glen Hansard, “The Moon”

It was much the same situation. No healthcare … then a terrible diagnosis … then a bureaucratic boondoggle that prevented her last days from being productive (or at least pain-controlled) … then, today.

In other words, something I face each and every day. That I’ve endured with countless relatives who came before us too.

And fuck everyone who comes up with their shitty “in a better place” refrain and “the pain ended.”

No, the pain DOESN’T end.

The pain lives as long as we do. Maybe even longer, since I am convinced it attaches itself to the walls and floors and ceilings. It stays with articles of clothing and jewelry.

Once I bought a ring from a lady who looked down on her luck. Gave her a $20 for a sterling band with a big sparkly red Austrian crystal heart.

I swear, I never had a good day as long as I owned it.

I didn’t even have to wear it — it sat in my desk drawer and work was an absolute nightmare that year. The day I threw out the ring, and all the sadness it seemed to carry, things improved.

So, yeah. I take with me this woman I never met, but whom I seemed to know like my own mom.

I take her yearning for travel and her longing for the love of her life who preceded her to the other side.

I think of her frame wasting away and I think of how many millions of times I have begged, prayed and pleaded with the universe to help me make my body smaller.

Her illness/descent reminds me of everyone I was ever related to who was sick for a long time, but the moment they sought treatment, things came to an abrupt end.

So is there relief in that? Maybe. To the extent that your life was “only” uprooted for X number of days/weeks/months while they were hanging on. But then to go back to a world that COMPLETELY CHANGED … how do you do that?

There’s a line in the movie “Anywhere But Here” where Natalie Portman’s character says of her mom Susan Sarandon that the world will be flat without her. I say that to my mom all the time. But I’ve since revised it to tease her about the dent in my couch where she sits when she has her dizzy spells.

Now I say the world won’t be flat. It will always have her little dent in it. And in that, I think we both find some humor if not comfort. But I know it won’t be enough when the day comes that it’s all I have left.

I’m sorry, to my beautiful friend, that your world caved in today.

My mechanic always tells me, don’t make an appointment — just show up super-early and we’ll take care of you.

I got there super-early today, and they said they were too busy. Perhaps make an appointment?

And guess who scratched her car getting out of the too-tight parking lot that she was planning to leave on foot when she parked in the last spot.

It shocked me that people can actually tell you, nope. Too busy. Can’t help ya.

You can DO that?!!! SIGN ME UP.

I decided not to go back. Ever. It’s like I was telling a friend yesterday — take resistance as a sign. Do something else. Go someplace else. Listen to the universe.

My friend has a different outlook. He said resistance is just the universe’s way of testing you. It wants you to try again till you bust down that silly roadblock.

Roadblocks ain’t shit, to paraphrase him. We are stronger than those any day.

He’s probably right. Especially when I seem to encounter resistance just about everywhere.

But I also feel I’m doing a disservice to my gut and my spirit guides when I’m too stubborn (or otherwise stuck in the mud) to follow their signs.

And let me tell you, if the burning I’ve had in the back of my throat for the past year every minute of every day (and night. Especially at night) isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is.

It doesn’t feel like Christmas. But that won’t stop me from decorating with festive pierogies. 

  
Or ornaments from both my hometowns. 

  
Or seashells. 

  
The tree is a work in progress. I liked it better when it overlooked the Intracoastal Waterway. This corner next to my couch makes me sad. 

I’ve dreamed of Pittsburgh every night for the past two weeks. I have another Pittsburgh ornament coming in the mail, and a glittery Steelers shirt too. Yay Etsy and eBay for the only presents I will get. 

Except for the wine coming from California of course. That I will actually receive this year because it isn’t going to my house. So there’s that. 

I got a nice note from one of my former boys. So there’s that too. 

I just don’t feel like my higher power and I are on the best of terms right now. I mean I haven’t done anything stupid or evil or anything. But I haven’t attempted anything awesome either. So how can I witness a miracle when I’m not out looking for one? 

And do I even believe in them anymore?

Last year I was out of town for Winterfest. Not that I was out seeing the sights where I was, something that bugs me to this day. 

But in any event, I wanted to make it up to mom for last year being a fizzle. 

It was even more of a fizzle this year. 

I have a usual spot to park in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea. We either watch from atop one bridge or below another. No walking. Easy peasy. 

This year I discovered Lauderdale cops are almost as bad as Boynton ones. Minus the thirst for rape and assault and murder. But still. Jagoffs one and all. 

The cops turned away thousands of people. Young and old, wheelchairs and strollers. 

The problem with the treasure coast is that everything along the water, whether the Intracoastal or ocean, is privately owned. 

Benihana was happy to charge you $145 to sit on a cheap folding chair for two hours. 

As for the rest of us who are used to standing on the bridge, this year we were told to go home. 

So we all wandered around to parking lots and other nooks and crannies, only to be told to leave. 

I found s little spot where we could sort of see the boats. I was just happy to be there. But mom said she loves big boats and screw everyone since she can’t see them. 

We left. I mean it really was pointless that we got there hours early for nothing. 

She’s afraid this could be her last one. And she missed it.  If that’s true, it like many things will haunt me for life. 

I started looking at apartments that face the parade route. Since that’s the only way civilians can see it. If work won’t let me move to the west coast then I’ll just settle for a ridiculous commute. 

So yesterday was a waste and now all errands get crammed into today. Yay. 

The only lights we saw. 

I like to think I deserve grace, or luck or at the very least a long intermission from life’s shitshow. And I did have some grace shown to me today. 

I was in the car, literally thanking my lucky stars for the small kindness extended to me when I needed (and I believe deserved) it. I mean I did everything right. Not my fault the universe tried and failed to screw me. 

But apparently the universe doesn’t like you thinking that you earned that tiny victory. (And believe me, it is tiny. But I was still happy.)

I was stopped at a stop sign for a good solid five-count. Because, two cop cars 100 yards away.  And I almost got T-boned by the clown who stopped about four seconds after I did. 

Perhaps the real grace was not getting kilt. But I swerved hard into oncoming traffic that was mercifully not moving, and it’s only because of my actions that I am fine right now. 

Who the fuck put me in charge of safety on the roads? Why do I seem like the only one who has to pay attention and why do I get punished for doing nothing wrong?

Anyway, I thought the universe wanted gratitude. Needy universe. 🙂  But what more do I need to say or do to not have to feel grateful things aren’t worse?