Caterwauling

Happy cat

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Florida? Is weird.

So, we all know it’s the recovery capital of America. I’d say the sobriety capital, but that doesn’t mean much, especially when you have people like me keeping Total Wine in business.

I broke my two whole days without a cigarette streak when I ducked into Walgreens today to enjoy the air conditioning and, oh what the hell, Marlboros are on sale for $5.21. Whee!

So, I was standing in line — and mind you, this place is next to a church where all those “Anonymous” meetings are held — and the guy in front of me said, “Guess what?”

Now, you can take the girl out of D.C. but you can’t quite take it out of her. I assumed he would want me to know that Congress passed the budget. And BOY am I ready to talk about THAT clusterfuck. 🙂

I asked what, and he said, “Jesus loves you!”

I laughed, said thank you, and told him that made my day. Because it did.

It just goes to show how different things are down here. Everyone’s loving Jesus and working their steps and perfecting their tan. If I still lived up there, I can guarantee I would have been at the office today. If I still had one, of course. 😉

I say all of this to report that I got the day off from babysitting today. Woo hoo! I drove all over creation and entertained myself with shopping, beach time and the eternal quest for the perfect Chicago hot dog.

The houseguest from outer space (I kind of like the combination of terms!) is always on the quest for the perfect BBQ, and I’ve driven all over hell’s half acre to hit every BBQ truck within a 50-mile radius. So on my way to hot dog land, I saw a truck in front of a market I’ve always wanted to stop at.

So, the “market” is really a dinky restaurant run by the nicest bunch of, well, idiots I’ve ever met.

The truck comes courtesy of one of the local sober houses, and employs people in recovery.

I should have run away. But I stayed. And ordered something I thought mom would like. And reiterated my order four times. She repeated it back each time and then asked what I ordered again. Oy.

Then they couldn’t get my credit card to work. That took four people and a half hour of my time. They forgot that someone cannot be using the phone while they run the number. Oof. How do these places stay in business?

Of course, the order was wrong. So, very, wrong. I want to support my local recovery community, but I’ll skip that place for the rest of my life.

Anyway, it kind of made me grateful for the problems I have. Or, at least, happy for the ones I DON’T have.

That’s where I kind of get into it with the houseguest sometimes. That every time she gets mad at me for not being Super Daughter, she could have done worse. I always tell her to go move in with Jenelle from “Teen Mom 2” and see how life is THEN. That usually ends it. For the time being. 😉

I’ve decided I want a puppy for my birthday. Kadie’s pretty happy as an only child, but she could stand to lose a few pounds and, frankly, so can I. A dog would get me out of the castle in the sky much more often. And as I learned today, being let off the leash makes for a happy Goddess, too.

Where mah treats go!?!?!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Because this place is heavily mirrored, if you look closely, you can see my pudgy pork roast butt crouching to get this photo. Yay. 🙂

I took a long psychological journey last night thanks to some Argentinean cabernet and some Oregon pinot gris and a very attentive audience of one. (Thank you!)

I know we recently jumped into the wayback machine (circa 1991-’92) to look at how high school fucked me up. But let’s cruise back one more time to about 1988-’90 and run the bastard out of gas once and for all.

So, yeah, I would never say I was popular. I don’t know that I wanted to be. I stayed far away from Student Council and preferred my newspaper crew and my Honor Society peeps. (I was president, which still baffles me to this day.)

There was this really motley crew of people who, I don’t know if I’d call them popular, but I would say they were downright toxic. People tried to befriend them so that they wouldn’t get picked on. They had some loud-ass mouths on them but nothing in the way of brains to back it up.

I, of course, have no interest in loudmouths now and I sure as hell didn’t back then, either.

Now, they tried to befriend ME. That’s the funny part. Not because I was beautiful or popular or overly snarky, but because I was smart. They would notice when teachers gave us back our tests and their glaring red Fs paled in comparison to my glittery and gorgeous A-plus-plus-pluses that rolled in again and again.

Well, at first they tried to befriend me under the guise of helping to improve their grades. I wasn’t interested in tutoring anybody, but I said I could help them study.

But that’s not what they wanted. They simply wanted to copy my homework and tests.

I wasn’t an idiot here. I knew that I was being offered a rare chance of not being a target, in exchange for looking the other way when it came to sharing answers.

But I knew my family was poor and the only way I was getting to college was on a scholarship. And there was no way I was letting these dumbasses raise their GPAs unfairly at my expense.

So I said, “No thanks.”

Test time came around and the bitch next to me basically commanded that I quit shielding my paper. I shook my head. So then she asked the answer to question 3. I ignored her. Then 5, then 10, and so on. I glared at her; you weren’t going to catch me talking during a test!

What a goody-goody I was. 😉

That moment in the early throes of ninth grade was the end of peace of mind as we know it.

It started with gum in the hair. Proceeded with relentless taunts when the teachers were out of the room. Always comments on the clothes, the pudgy pork roast butt, the hair, whatever.

This didn’t happen in my A.P. classes, of course. But you can’t take all A.P. classes in a day. There are study halls and gym classes and electives where you cannot hide.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I talked to my teachers. I got seated in the backs of classes, where possible. Or in the front where I was in the teachers’ eyeline. I realized my only true friends were the ones at the chalkboard.

And it made even my friends with higher IQs mad that I was so “in” with the instructors. But I worked my ass off for my grades. There was no favoritism when it came to academics. But I will not apologize for being a favorite or, at least, a protected entity. I asked for help and I got it; I even got some mentorship and, dare I say, friendship out of it.

I win, bitches.

Anyway, I could go into further depth, although the bullshit ended when I took summer gym classes with the other smart kids who wanted out of the traditional class. I also did it to make way for more advanced classes — give me five A.P. classes and a free period to work on the newspaper, please. The idiocy abated and my junior year was the best year ever.

I say all of this to say that Facebook has made me start to like some of the people I avoided. Not all of them, mind you. Stacy M. can still go die in a fucking ditch that’s caught fire. 🙂

But there were people who I know sold their souls to be part of her group. And while I don’t have any evidence of them being cruel to me (and I recall the occasional friendly moment or two with some of the others), I disliked them simply by association.

One of those “didn’t hate/didn’t love” people has a child with developmental disabilities. And while I would never, ever wish that on anyone, nor would I take anything resembling joy at anyone’s hardships, it gives me pause for a moment.

She talks openly of her struggles to provide a typical life for her child, often at the expense of her other child who doesn’t get as much attention. She notices the stares and whispers and taunts of other children. Her heart breaks that anyone else would look at her child with anything less than love and respect and amazement.

My, what a difference 20 years makes.

I wonder whether she or her former posse — or anyone like them who got their kicks by verbal assault and physical kicks and tricks — ever stops to think, “Wow, I was a real asshole to people!”

That’s all I want, really. For them to look at me and think, hey, she has a pretty cool life and turned out well, and hey, maybe I was a dick to her in school and I’m kind of ashamed of myself.

I don’t want an apology or an acknowledgment. Frankly, I’d be disappointed if I talked to any of them and found out they were still the scared sheeple following the loudmouth’s lead.

I will say a prayer for her and her son, that they stay strong and show the world what he can do. And I will be grateful to God that one of the “bad ones” turned out all right, after all.

Unfortunately, not everyone can change. But it does my heart good to be able to witness and celebrate it when it does happen. Mazel tov, friends.

It’s a boat! It’s a plane!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Working from home is, I’m sorry to say, a bitch.

Look at this photo. It is the view from my desk while I’m writing/editing/hostage negotiating/etc. It’s gorgeous. It’s inspirational.

It’s … distracting.

To the point where I am thinking about buying one of those stand-up desks so I’m not tempted to daydream in my chair as much as I do.

I just accepted yet another freelance offer. I said I’ll start Monday. Which means working weekend on other stuff! Whee!

I have a tradition around here that I like to call Fuck-Off Friday. That’s for all those years of my friends going out to happy hour while I was still in the office till 9, 10, 11, 12 or whatever time. In other words, I don’t do a damn thing and I LOVE it.

I had to shift it back to yesterday, unfortunately, so today is going to be one of those other kinds of days. I had even anticipated giving up one of my jobs, but I’m going to give it one more month and see if things improve.

The thing is, I got all of my jobs on reputation alone. Everybody knew me and/or worked with me in a past life. So I guess a part of me just doesn’t want to disappoint, lest I tarnish that pristine (or close to it) reputation.

In non-work news, one of my favorite comedians will be here on my birthday. One of my beloveds said we should get the girls together and have a night out. I LOVE it.

I realize I had a phenomenal group of colleagues, two jobs ago. While I will always hold up Ye Olde Employment Establishment as the best functioning team ever, I could say the same of other jobs if you take out the people with the six-figure salaries.

I’d never say we were aligned against the upper-level people, although I know every last one of them was paranoid that we were. Instead, it was more that we could band together, share our collective knowledge, and cover our collective asses from unnecessary kickings.

What leaders fail to understand is that alliances in the workplace are a GOOD thing. We’re not aiming for anarchy. We just want HARMONY.

If we’re going “behind their backs,” so to speak, it’s to get on everyone’s good side. To build loyalty for that day when you need a favor and you want to make sure they drop everything for you when you need it most. To perhaps commiserate, yes, but in hopes of getting some insight into a problem rather than just a pure kvetching session.

When I was the communications director of a charity, I was told everyone is my enemy and to treat them that way. And that’s how I was treated by people on my level. You were simply the equivalent of a speedbump for a bus whose brakes have been busted — it wouldn’t stop the CEO from yelling at you, but you could be used to distract the CEO from yelling at THEM.

Anyway, it’s good to have friends across all departments and throughout the pay spectrum. Because at the end of the day, no one can judge your individual performance without looking at who helped you get there, and who you brought along the way with you.

For me, I may get to my goals more slowly than the rest, but my bus is filled with everyone I stopped to help along the way. Amazing things happen when everyone is in sync and has access to relatively the same amount of information — at least, the info they need to do their jobs better and advance in their careers.

But hey, when you turn over your staff by 50% in a year, don’t be surprised when you’re not only right where you started, but further behind. Train people right, treat them better and push the business ahead on their collective knowledge and ability. Anything less breeds indifference, even in those with the best of intentions.

Oh, yeah, that brings me to one last thing about working from home. No meetings! Sure, WebEx and Skype and conference calling keeps me busy. But no losing three hours at a time, three times a day anymore — and not with people I see six times a day anyway because we’re in the same room!

I truly don’t know what to do with all this free time … other than to work or stare longingly at the beach and daydream away…

My fur-child

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Working from home this week has been joyous. And by joyous, I mean “has sucked rancid butthole.”

Monday, I went without electricity for at least half the workday. And when it would return and I’d reboot, *bam* down it went again.

Wednesday was fire-alarm testing … for four hours. Which freaked the fuck out of the fur-child. Poor kid was attached to my side for the day with hurty ears.

I’m just glad the idiots didn’t activate the alarms by setting the building on fire. Because, that’s about the level of intelligence we’re dealing with here.

Otherwise, I’ve been hauling ass on an awesome project with an awesome team. Out of habit (of anticipating shit), I sent a progress update yesterday and made PDFs of the multimedia files I was working on, to show my progress.

My two contacts on the project asked what the update was all about. I said, you know, to show you what I’ve done and to give you opportunity to weigh in on the direction I’m taking this in.

Both said, “Yeah, hey. We trust you. You bring a level of experience and expertise that we don’t have. Knock yourself out with however you want to approach it.”

Never fails to amaze me when I hear that stuff. Well, I know I am bathed in awesomesauce, but it’s such a vote of confidence when people say we know what you’ve done and now show us what you can do next.

Anyway, I say this to share with my friends in impossible work situations (which seems to be about 95% of you these days) that eventually God gives you a break — a good one!

Actually, I’m not hurting for opportunity at all these days. However, time and energy are at critical shortages. I know I took on too much, but after two months without working, wouldn’t YOU have said yes to six offers? I just hope I dazzle the right ones and don’t piss off the wrong ones!

Local duct tape shortage explained

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, I was up to no good last night … I had an interview at midnight. (What did you think I was doing? lol)

I have this cadre of freelance jobs and I like everyone I work with and everything I’m doing. But there’s this wicked witch type at one who has declared war by saying I’m an “un-creative writer” who “lacks original thought.”

There’s another writer on the project, and my stuff is so much more robust than his that I’ve felt bad for him, having to have his stuff compared to mine. Wicked witch-type loves his stuff. It’s fluffy and formulaic while I’m doing copious amounts of research and otherwise finding new approaches to get people to spend their money.

Mind you, there were no constructive suggestions or else I would have taken them. But it makes my to-do list scary if I’m going to invest a lot of time on stuff that she’s going to hate.

My contact says to keep working on my project list, but I stopped. I remember when they brought the witch onto the project, they asked if I would have a problem working with her. And I was all sweetness and light — hey, I look forward to it! I will bet we will create some awesome stuff together!

Yeah, Kyle’s mom is a bitch. She’s the biggest bitch in the whole wide world. She’s a stupid bitch, if there ever was a bitch. She’s a bitch to all the boys and girls!

*jiggety jig*

Anyway, the other gig pays 75% less to start, is probably going to be a lot more chaotic, and I may go crazy in the process. But the great thing about them is that they are idea people. I’m the writer. Go in your corner and write. Don’t come out till you’re done and we are sure it will be FABULOUS.

Which is how the other gig *was* till Kyle’s mom showed up. The assaults are downright personal. Funny for someone who doesn’t even know you.

After she bragged about how awesome the other writer is, she slammed a line I had written in one of my things. I told my contact, “Really? I got that line from the other writer, when I had to explain to him what the fuck we were promoting because I’m the only one who researched the project. He told me to use it.”

And you wonder whether the line would have gotten her so fired up if she knew it came from the other guy.

I figure, I have two choices here. Quit and go elsewhere, or take her to lunch and declare a truce in a war I’m not even fighting. I think we know what the right thing to do is … to work on another project and avoid the issue!

Palm Beach sunset

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I love that little mobile. I picked it up for two bucks in Key West. Makes a lovely sound when the winds are fierce, like they have been the past few days.

It hasn’t felt like it’s been 91 degrees (which it has), thanks to the gale-force winds. Seriously, can a house drop on an evil witch and give me something to smile about, please?

An old colleague had a baby last night. I didn’t even know she was pregnant, although we did commiserate via Twitter a few months back how the moments after peeing on a stick are the longest of your life. I just didn’t have any idea that, while mine was negative, hers wasn’t. 😉

I give her credit, too, because I think she’s doing this on her own. (Her daughter? So friggin’ kyoot!) For all my, ah, promiscuity of years past and rebellion against family and tradition, I have to say that I probably would have had some spawn by now, were I in a functional relationship.

Lord — ME, traditional? *faints*

But yeah, when I inadvertently found myself in the “family” way almost exactly a decade ago, I thought about doing it on my own. For a minute. But really, even though I wasn’t ready to get married, I would have been willing if it were a two-person tag-team operation.

Unfortunately, the only person stepping up to the challenge was my mother, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be around every minute of every day. (Hah. Sometimes I wonder whether my current living situation is my eternal punishment for that.)

Alas, here we are a decade later. And I would be lying if I said I weren’t jealous of my friend. I am happy for her and happier still that I am not the one with the diaper and burp-cloth budget. But I would also be lying if I claimed I didn’t want the whole “happy family” thing. You know, with an awesome dude and a toddler-sized kid rather than a 53-year-old one.

I was thinking back to the years I was in social work, how I hated the fact that we were putting kids in kinship care … throwing them right into the fucked-up family lives that ruined their birthparents in the first place. Now, I’m eye-witness to the fact that parents who screwed up actually make for excellent grandparents. But I really resented being forced to seek funding for parenting classes for incarcerated birth moms when I was far more worried that the children were going to turn out like their parents thanks instead to their grandparents.

I’m not saying my mom is bad. But the same family situation that I FLED in 1992 is what I live daily now. Minus three other generations crammed into a rowhouse a fraction the size of my apartment, but still. Close quarters with people sharing your air doesn’t breed much beyond resentment.

But in thinking a bit about my grandmother, I remember more of the good things. She adored Elizabeth Taylor. ADORED. She owned her Passion perfume set. (I never liked it.) But then when Dame Elizabeth released her White Diamonds, my grandmother immediately bought me a bottle … which I LOVED.

I’ve since become a perfume connoisseur like my grandmother, because of that. And in my grandmother’s memory, I donated to the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation today.

Anyway, I don’t know where the hell this entry is going. First from babies, to families, to grandparents, to perfume and to fatal illnesses. Hm. Looks like a typical five minutes inside my brain. 🙂

I guess I’m telling the universe, in no uncertain terms, that I want more. A good man. Another residence for the extra-terrestrial being from outer space. A loving home. A cute dog. Money enough for classy perfumes. Non-batshit paycheck providers. And serene sunsets that precede peaceful evenings and even-prettier sunrises to which I can look forward.

Plus, happiness enough that if any of the above is missing, I won’t even notice.

Gaylord Palms

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

The quote in the title was one of many soundbites from the World Money Show. Now that I’m no longer with an exhibitor company (or any company, for that matter), those shows are so much more enjoyable!

My secret is to hang out with people who are way more attractive than me. I hung out with my beloved Empress E, and when the guys who flock to her realize that I’m the easier one of the two, things get interesting. 🙂

No worries — I left the show with my chastity intact. You definitely meet lots of rich guys at these events. Although most of them have reputation for being players, or else they have NO game whatsoever, and it’s fairly easy to escape unscathed … if not still drunk 24 hours after you started your adult-beverage consumption.

It’s always a joy to see the “family” and sad to see them go. But I got a nice dose of my “Vitamin D,” and that’s the real reason I hopped into the car and drove three hours each way. Everything else was just gravy.

Mmmm, gravy.

It was good to be out and about among the land of the living again. This staying-at-home crap is really depressing the shit out of me. And while it’s sad to say that certain readers are dancing for joy to read about my depression and disgust with life right now, well, fuck it. I’m owning it. I’d rather be disappointed and have income than bummed without it. Although I did enjoy talking to someone who was in my boat not too long ago about a “no talented people” rule. *muahahaaaa*

Anyway, one thing I did take with me is that life will go on eventually. My travel buddy left Florida, my income ground to a halt and I’m now captive 24/7 with my mom and a smelly cat. Yay.

But … there are travels ahead when I can afford them again. Paris. London. Coastal North Carolina. Virginia Beach. Seattle. Long Island. New Orleans. Memphis. Nashville. Maybe I won’t get to most or even any of them this year. But I didn’t die or anything. Just the last version of Goddess is gone. But the next one is always under construction.

I ran into some people I met in the past year, and was pleasantly surprised that not only did they remember my name, but they actually really liked me. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I’m not with the company anymore. But since a few offered to stay in touch, hey, I’m not going to turn that down.

I told Empress E how shocked I was that I was remembered so fondly. And she said, um, duh. My inroads into this field was always the relationships I developed. I just happen to have a couple of functioning brain cells, too, but it’s more than that. People leave me feeling good. Well, most people. 😉 But that’s my ticket back to success — being remembered fondly, so that when I call them, they are hopefully happy to hear from me.

It’s been such a long, emotional journey. I still struggle with “why” — why all I have is my work/reputation, why the only family I have is a mother in questionable health, why another Valentine’s Day approaches with not a single iota of celebration in sight, why every cat I own has a poop fetish, why I have professional admirers and no professional contentment, and why every day is a struggle to get out of bed whether or not alcohol was involved the night before.

Alas, I still don’t have the answers. I just keep getting up, putting on my best face, throwing a pack of smokes in my purse and plodding along.

The secret to writing an article, a novel or even the story of life’s success is knowing the ending in advance. And I struggle like hell with this “middle part” when the outcome becomes fuzzy. Is it worth it to be loved now when you could be homeless in three months? Not only is it easier to get hired when you have a job, but it’s easier to do everything when you’re not sleeping on the beach. Sigh.

I know it won’t come to that, but that’s my motivation to keep getting up, getting dressed, putting on makeup and trying again. This isn’t the life I wanted, nor is it going to be in the short term. But I feel like I’m running out of fight. I used to think I could do anything. I’m not so sure anymore.

Some people get by on their looks, but even those fade. What if drive and creativity runs out, too? What if that’s what’s happening to me?

Of course, then you look around and see plenty of “successful” people who don’t have anything but sheer luck to go on. God bless them the day that runs out.

And I’ll be ready to help them because that’s who I am and what I do. Even if I shouldn’t. Especially if I shouldn’t.

That’s what makes someone a true success, I think. Having the ability to either kick someone while they’re down, or raise them up higher than they ever thought possible, and choosing the latter.

Maybe that’s why people like me and (say they) want to help me.

Team Good Guys is going to win this one. We just have to go into extra innings. But there will be a victory dance. I promise you that.

Be my valentine

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Oh, what a night.

So, mah Stillers didn’t win the Super Bowl. It was a great game and really close. But the Fudge Packers won and I’m sure Ben Roethlisberger’s karma had something to do with it. Of course, he is but one cog in a mighty team, so let’s just say it was Green Bay’s turn to win the championship.

Yeah, whatever. Damn it! Damn it all to hell!

Last time the Steelers played (and won!) in the Super Bowl, I think I made out with half the single men in Washington, D.C. I even ended up becoming friends with one of them. Ah, those were the days.

Anyway, JUST as I was lamenting my lack of male attention tonight, voila! One appeared.

See, smoking is not only hazardous to your physical health. When you step outside for a smoke, men can and will prey upon you and threaten your mental health, too. Yay, me.

He seemed fairly normal. Perhaps a little old for me, but you know what they say about beggars and choosers. He works in my field and it was nice to have a reasonably intelligent conversation about shit I know while our favorite team fought to make its comeback in the fourth quarter.

I left to go back to my friend — incidentally, a gal and I who haven’t seen each other since high school connected, which was a lot of fun — and I tried to slip out another exit because he was waiting for me. Aha, he’s a smart one. I had tried to go the long way around to my car, but DAMN IT, I walked right past his. I swear, he had to have radar on me because I thought I was being all sly and shit.

I’d had a nice buzz, but of course I had to sober my ass up right-quick so I could keep myself out of trouble and/or danger.

It was … weird. He had used the word, and when I left, I said thanks for a very weird conversation. He took offense to it, and I pointed out, “Your word, not mine.” (Thank you, instant sobriety.)

I’ll skip the details, but suffice it to say that it’s usually always this way. Someone seems normal enough, and then the red flag shoots up and all I want to do is run for the hills.

The problem was, I had given him my number when he seemed reasonably sane and nearly interesting. That time period was, unfortunately, finite. DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT!!!!!

I had met someone in Key West last time I was there. More like he beelined to my side and NEVER LEFT. And since Mom was intent on cock-blocking, I had to miraculously vanish from there too. But he wasn’t such a wily one. That was an easy escape. Thank God. 🙂

This one tonight kept paying me compliments. I thanked him for nearly all of them, but I rolled my eyes at the last half-dozen. He asked if I were just one of those women who thinks they’re not worth anything.

I said hardly — I pointed out that I am quite secure in myself and really don’t need external validation. I know that I rule. 😉

Mentally, though, I was calculating how I should react to a man with, oh, a job. Like when I was in Key West, right after my ass had just been introduced to the door, I figured here was a guy with a job and a condo in New York. What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

Alas, I have to put myself back into my pre-job-loss shoes. Would I date him if I were at 100%-confidence levels? Probably not. Would I sleep with him? Nope. Not a spark in sight. Not even close.

I meant what I said, that I am the opposite of insecure. I fall into conversation easily. I know I am a catch. Maybe I don’t feel like much of one right now, what with my life so out-of-sorts. But this, too, shall pass. And I’ve settled for far too much in my life — I ain’t settling when it comes to a man. That’s for damn sure.

Perhaps he’s not as weird and creepy as he ultimately came across. I doubt it, though. My instincts are usually right the second time around.

In any case, whee there’s another number I get to ignore!

Adopt me!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I made the mistake of going to the animal shelter yesterday. I am on a very casual quest for a canine companion. But the dog selection was sparse and I was drawn to the “Cattery,” as they call it.

OMG, I almost came home with six new pets.

There’s one in particular that I can’t get out of my mind. She’s a 2-year-old Calico — just like my beloved Maddie. I have photos of every pet I loved, and a dozen of her alone. (Pictured: A very lovable kitty who was desperate to be adopted. He was a little too energetic for me but I loved him, too.)

I have a cousin who is nervous that I went to the shelter to look into dropping Kadie off if I don’t get a job soon. So I guess it would be stupid to bring home a new pet when many of the dozens there were dropped off by owners who could no longer afford to keep them.

Sigh. What a horrible world.

More horrible still is that this is one of those places that kills pets that are there too long. There was a section for feral cats — each one cuter than the next — with a big “Not for Adoption” sign.

That’s the green mile for kitties, I guess. And since I inadvertently ushered a kitty to his sad little grave by sending him there, I wouldn’t mind saving another from certain death.

I’m so sad that I can’t save them all. That I’m really not in a position to save *any* of them. And that I’ll be lucky to keep the one I already have.

I’m not down in the dumps, per se, over the sad state of my life. I always try to stay positive because good attracts good. As soon as someone says something full of doom and gloom, it materializes. So I say things like I’m fine, it’ll get better and we won’t be living on the beach because the rent’s too high.

And I really try not to think about how much cheaper life would be if I weren’t supporting two humans. Because, really, aren’t we all in some sort of relationship that we didn’t ask for?

How many men got some poor girl knocked up … or some dumb girl got stuck with a man who seemed OK till she got knocked up by him … or someone sold their soul to their employer for the pension and not the spiritual fulfillment? How many couples have kids and parents to take care of … even long after the kids are in their 20s?

I figure, I never had kids or a deadbeat (ex) husband. Most of my family is dead. I have no in-laws to complain about. Shit, I have no bosses to complain about either. 😉 It’s like I hit the karmic lottery!

But, alas, the universe has to find innovative ways to torture me, to make sure I have my share. And when a job is the only thing it can take away from you, well apparently that’s what it does. And not even a job — no job is THAT great — it’s the INCOME loss that blows.

But that’s “all” it is, if I can be so brazen. It’s “security,” whatever the fuck THAT is. No one can take away my pride, my dreams, my integrity, my ethics. Christ, no. My temporary sanity, yes. And my apartment, maybe. But that’s it. I won’t surrender anything else.

But not to be “Miss Brightside” here, but the universe (and those who are currently in position to be masters of it) can also take away your stress. I’m not saying I don’t have my share. But by taking away my security, my stress also decreased. It’s hard as hell to make other people’s dreams come true. Sometimes, you just can’t. Even if you thought you could and actually WANTED to at some point.

Anyway, I guess I can see how people become “crazy cat ladies.” There’s no love out there in the world. But inside an animal shelter in the center of Florida, there are cages upon cages full of quirky little personalities — ready to love anyone who gives them the time of day.

My little Calico friend, my God. She was licking me and petting me through her cage. She kept touching her nose to mine and looking for me every time I visited another kitty. Every time I came back to her, she looked so joyful.

She cried when I left. I cried a little more than she did as I drove home.

Everyone keeps telling me to not get another cat, because I wanted a dog. And to not get a dog until I have an income again. But trying to get to sleep at night knowing that these loving and healthy cats are waiting for their owners — or, at least, their NEW owners — to come for them and that they’re going to go to kitty heaven otherwise, well, breaks my little heart.

Same goes with perfectly wonderful discarded workers. We just want a home. One that feeds us would be nice. Hell, we’ll just take a roof over our heads. Although it’s sad to say that euthanasia would be kinder than ending up on the streets. Hmmm. Wonder if I can schedule an appointment at the vet if I don’t get a job soon. …

Key West sunset 17

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So on Jan. 1, I sat on a blanket at Smathers Beach and did nothing but snap photos of the sunset for 20 minutes. There’s a reason they call Key West the “Home of the Sunset.” Spectacular.

I’m aimless these days. Working is overrated. So is pretty much everything else. I just want to curl up and sleep for a week or two. Or keep watching “Ghost Whisperer” marathons, interrupted by the occasional Oprah episode where she hosts Bon Jovi or reveals her secret sibling.

My purpose is out there. Hell, it’s right in front of me. And I can’t stare it straight in the face. I can’t bear to be disappointed again. Not that I have much choice, mind you. None of us does.

I just never thought I’d be this tired at 36.