Caterwauling

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Honky Tonk Heroes

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I just so happened to have a free movie ticket that expires Friday, so I went to see “Country Strong” today.

I’m SO moving to Nashville!

The movie was shot there, and when Lady L and I were there back in November (we went to the Grand Ole Opry. *swoon*), she said she’d never seen me so at-home.

And while I couldn’t survive in a land-locked state, I am definitely a fan of taking an extended vacation in the birthplace of bluegrass.

Anyway, the movie. Love and swoon. I was never Team Gwyneth, but I daresay she’s a better singer than actress. Perhaps marrying a musician was a good thing for her. I haven’t been able to stand Coldplay since “Yellow” was Beaten. To. Death. on mainstream radio. But clearly it’s benefiting her career, so good for her.

Since my own chances of marrying a musician and becoming a country singer are zero, I’m happy just being a Honky-Tonk Woman with a guitar that I can’t begin to figure out how to play. 🙂

My takeaway from the movie wasn’t anything the characters said or did. It’s the fact that I could have written that movie. OK, not that PARTICULAR one. But Lord, I have so many stories and chapters and wannabe screenplays sitting in boxes in my living room. That damn song “Give in to Me” is just a remix of a song I wrote when I was 16 called “Come to Me.”

It irks the fuck out of me that I’ve been busting my ass in the workforce since age 16 when all I had to do was sell a stupid song to a stupid studio to end up in a stupid movie and it would make me stupid-rich. 🙂

I don’t fully believe that you can follow your dreams. I think you can chase them, sure. But if you find me someone who does what they absolutely love, you’ll also be showing me someone who probably had to give up something like money or relationships or rearing a child. And while I don’t want to sell my soul for money, well, the landlady doesn’t give a shit that I’m quite happy scribbling in a sketchbook.

I guess I just wish I could sell one of my book ideas (and, oh, write the damn thing) and buy myself some more time to coast … to only take on project work … to go on tour to promote my book and see various cities and countries … and get inspired to write the next one. You know, whenever the mood hits.

I had one of those soul-selling interviews yesterday. One where I’d rather pull off my toenails with a set of pliers than say yes to that deal with the devil. And it pains me to think that it *has* to be that way, where I am mentally writing the resignation letter before the thank-you card for the conversation!

Of course, I had a better conversation with someone else today and I am feeling much better about the universe. But yeah, I took a risk and decided I didn’t want to be boxed into a cookie-cutter role. And said so. In no uncertain terms. And I would do the Snoopy dance if they end up taking me seriously.

Because while no role is perfect straight out of the box, why can’t I craft my perfect job? How do you expect anyone to think outside the proverbial box if you try to stuff them into one before they’re even on the payroll?

I’m actually kind of excited about the possibilities. It sure beats panicking, I guess. And maybe, just maybe, I can spend a little less time spinning my wheels and instead go from zero to 60 in point-five seconds like I’m more-than-capable of doing if I’m not falling in a pothole before I drive out of the lot for the very first time.

Failing that, I’ll head to Nashville and try to peddle my songs to washed-up artists and help them to stage their comeback. Maybe it will lead to mine. …

Coffee: do more stupid things, faster

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

The phrase “dysfunctional dynamic” keeps playing through my head. It’s probably a chapter title in a book I need to stop talking about and start writing. But I will say that it’s something I witnessed a lot throughout my life and do not miss.

I’m thinking that this forced hiatus from the workplace is rather fortuitous in its timing. My mom is not doing well. And while I know I should be pounding the pavement to secure my next paycheck, I also know that I need to take advantage of this time and get her health taken care of. Before it’s too late. Which, it’s looking like it could already be.

And when it all comes down to it, no matter how much I’ve complained (and I’ve done a lot of that) about the over-extended extra-terrestrial being from outer space blah blah blah, she’s been my No. 1 fan for 36 years. Can’t say the same about anyone else. And I need my champion to be around when things start going right again and I can get back on track with achieving my life’s goals.

That’s another thing that irks me, moving on to life goals here. That there are people who can keep us from them. Like, I really do want to adopt. And right now I have to budget my Paris fund (yep, that’s all I’ve got, folks) on getting myself, my mom and my cat through this unexpected phase of no money coming in.

And while that’s nobody’s responsibility but mine, it kills me that I was lulled into a sense of security … that I felt like I could travel and eat nice meals and, for once, LIVE A LITTLE … but it was all a mirage.

And in sniffing around for my next opportunity, I have to get excited over being told that I have to leave Florida to take this job. Or to take a $30,000 pay cut for that job. Since when did moving up in the world mean having to apologize for being worth what you’re paid and working from where you want to live?!?!

The mind, it boggles.

I mentioned to mom about the ridiculous pay cuts in store if I take this or that. And she said that’s a load of crap because that means compromising my own goals. How will I get to Paris on X per year now? How will I adopt that adorable brother/sister pair (ages 4 and 6 — I can see it now) who are waiting for me to get my shit together?

I’m not saying I was in love with the way things were just one month ago. I just wanted to figure out how to make things right. It took me nine months to learn the business. I was finally starting to understand who the players are and what they’re capable of.

And while my own role was nothing but a big question mark to me, I figured that if I could leverage my own strengths with everyone else’s, we’d rock the house. And in a way, I’m angry that my chance was cut short. But in another way, I know they won’t get where I was going to take them without a “me.”

Alas, as much as I wanted my mom to find her own way without me, it never happened. So I hope that it isn’t too late to help her … and something tells me this will be the hardest job of them all. But it will be the only one that’s still there for me at the end of the day. And in that, I feel like I’ve finally gotten my priorities straight.

(*Remember when blogging got me fired? It’s refreshing to be fired and THEN start blogging!)

Respect it, yo

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Seeing as though I’ve been unemployed for a full week now, I’ve had nothing but time on my hands to think. Which is dangerous.

I wish my bleeding-heart Socialist ways would pay off already and let me relax a little bit about my next career move. “Eat, Pray, Love” had it right — the Europeans know not to revolve their lives around a career, so that all is not lost if it disappears. Imagine, living to LIVE, and not working to live. Impossible!

I’m not saying I don’t want a job — I really do! — but I’m not going to find the right one TODAY. There are plenty of openings out there. Lots of freelance opportunities, too. (Thank God.) I’m so afraid to say “yes” right now when I may want to say “yes, please!” the moment I commit to something. But I guess it’s better than waiting and having nothing at all.

Sigh. Decisions, decisions. My gut says to wait. I don’t know. I keep ripping apart my resume and finding reasons to delay sending it to the people who requested it. Bad Goddess, I know.

And it irks me that I have to pass off a resume with nine months at a job and still try to have a straight face when I have to talk about what an awesome leader I am. How can I quantify that when all I have to show for it is the door hitting my ample ass?

I took a nice walk around the island this afternoon. Got a little bit of sun. It felt wonderful. I had to get out of the house before I killed one of us. And there are a thousand things I need to do — cleaning, unpacking (yeah, still) and getting mom health care. I guess God forced me to take this break so I could attend to these matters now, since I’ve so happily ignored them for a very long time.

Speaking of things I’ve happily ignored: the U.S. stock markets. I’ve been focused so much on offshore opportunities that I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write about domestic assets. And that’s what I’ve been missing for so long — but is it possible that I’ve acquired financial amnesia in a timespan the length of the average pregnancy? Feels like it.

I’ve been working on my new year’s resolutions, speaking of pregnancy. (Er, NOT getting knocked up, thanks.) I think that’s my next post. Just like my achievements on my resume, I’m trying to make my goals quantifiable this time around. Anything to make sure that this year doesn’t end up as screwily as the last. …

Jokes for beer

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Had a great weekend in Key West. As if it’s possible to have a terrible time there.

Coming back sucks. Well, it sucks on a normal occasion because that means leaving paradise behind. But it’s got an extra layer of suck this time since I got unceremoniously shitcanned last week and the job hunt must begin in earnest this week.

*too tired to scream, but thinking about it*

I got a wonderful note from my old pastor, because of course she was one of the first people I consulted about the screwy situation I find myself in. And as I suspected, she knew exactly what to say, mostly since she could tell that forgiveness isn’t going to come easily for me on this one.

She said, and I quote loosely, “Most managers are not equipped to lead people like you — people of influence, people who are highly experienced, people who are big-hearted.”

And holy shit, while I will not say I’m healed — not till I get another job, damn it — that was the perspective I just could not find last week.

Few people can lead people like me.

I’ll save the, “Well, I have a few pointers” schpiel. Because I’m saving it for my book. 😉 But I am very much accustomed to working with highly creative, independent and connected people. I am also very used to managing/leading the highly innovative and equally highly difficult people. (Although I think I am FAR from difficult to lead — at least, I’m easy when where you’re telling me to go makes sense to me.)

I succeeded at that, though. I couldn’t figure out why I was such a star at Ye Olde Employment Establishment and an utter failure (in others’ eyes — NOT mine) at the Den of Inquity and the Ghost of Employment Past. But I know now … I was made a star by the Chief Star-Maker. And, in turn, I ruled my own constellation.

I have given people the same advice through generations of jobs — mind your managers, but really make sure you are close to the stars. The authors and TV stars are a way better reference than the person who is locked in meetings all day and night.

I didn’t take my own advice this time around. I was the asshole locked in meetings morning, noon and night. I didn’t have time for my stars. And then it got to a point when working with my stars was suddenly “not my job.”

And that’s why I sucked — I wasn’t managing talent anymore.

I have to get back to that. The talent drove me crazy in my glory days, sure. But NOT working with the superstars meant that I wasn’t a superstar myself.

Boo. Screw that crap.

Anyway, perhaps I’ve spent too many days drinking frozen mango mojitos and dancing to too many steel-drum ballads in the sun. But perspective found me in paradise. And I hope that my dream job is out there. Because that’s when I’ll be a star again myself … and no wonder I couldn’t thrive in a role where no one could see me when they looked up on anything but the organizational chart.

Ahoy, matey!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Oh. My. God.

So, if Eleanor Roosevelt was right that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent, at some point today I signed the damn permission slip.

Silly Goddess.

“I was listening to the radio
I heard a song reminded me of long ago
Back then I thought that things were never gonna change
It used to be that I never had to feel the pain
I know that things will never be the same now.”

— Eddie Money, “I Wanna Go Back”

I was thinking about my old Easter Seals colleagues today. I remember how we celebrated when each of us left that horrible place … how we’d have special happy hours (in addition to the “regular” ones) to say goodbye and good luck.

Inevitably, one by one, we each got one shitty job after the next. No one came back, but most of us didn’t last a year in our new gigs.

I remember that making me so angry … that we got out of a job that paid nothing — from a place that was depressing at best — and we were all such GOOD PEOPLE who had such CRAP LUCK with jobs.

Every one of us had a “rebound job.” The one I had after that pretty much sucked mightily too. I don’t know what happened to everyone after that — those were the “dark years” when Facebook hadn’t yet been invented. But I haven’t heard of any of us setting the world on fire. Which, for all the heart and soul we gave to our vocations, it’s a damn shame we didn’t.

Back then, though, at least we had each other. And that counted for a lot. While I love being a manager, I miss everyone being on the same level and therefore able to relate and share without a conflict of interest.

I stay in touch with a couple of my friends from that time. They’ve all had kids since I saw them last. I don’t know that any of them found their dream job. I think they’ve learned to find joy in their beautiful families.

I’ve probably had five dream jobs since then. (Wes Craven dreams, but dreams nonetheless.) I wish we could get the old gang back together. I wonder what we’d tell our 20-odd-something selves. Probably not to get married, not to have kids, not to wrap yourself up in your career, and not to trust anyone else the way we trusted each other back then.

I feel like I was wiser then. I was a smartass. But I was a damn good game-player. The older I get, though, the more-real I am. I say things that offend people. I do things that piss them off. I disengage when I’m tired. I avoid what isn’t enjoyable. And I don’t understand why I haven’t yet achieved martyr status from some of the more-miserable years.

I love my people now. But damn, I miss that group from ES. It’s been so long since the mid-’90s when we were all together. I hope they’ve landed their dream jobs or, even better, their dream lives.

More likely, we all still drink just a little bit too much, think a little bit too much about that person we didn’t end up with, and still hold on to the hope that we chose right and that we’ll get it right in the next life, if we run out of chances in this one.

Baltimore’s Washington Monument at Daybreak

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, I hopped back on my Paxil today. I feel extraordinarily better.

In fact, I was having a grand old day for the most part. Talked to my contact at the CME, talked to a potential new editor, got taken to lunch by a potential J.V. partner, talked to Lady L, and talked to my girl T.

All in all, a fucking fabulous day.

Except …

Yeah. There’s always something.

The notes I made in my personal journal were brief. Three sentences, tops. Damn near fictional in nature, if you didn’t know me.

The drugs will help me to remain calm during the shitstorm. But I don’t think my spunk is going away just yet.

As a matter of fact, minus the weather watch for fan-splattering poo, I was feeling pretty damn good about everything.

I’m not giving up hope that it’s possible to feel good permanently. Or at least for more than, oh, one consecutive day. I just realize that in order to have it, I have to claim it.

And I’m pissing a fucking circle around it when I get it.

M&T Stadium and Camden Yards

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, we all know how much I abhor meetings. Especially ones I have to run. Because, well, they suck.

For one, either I should just attend meetings all day and just delegate the projects … or else I should have NO meetings and just do the damn work and not have to beg forgiveness when I don’t have shit done because I’m in (or preparing for) … you guessed it — meetings!

I felt like it went well today. But I also got violently sick afterward. Probably from all the planning and anticipating and remembering the pile of failure that they told me my last meeting was.

Anyway, I was kind of proud of myself for taking myself off the mind meds. And today, I think part of the violent sickness is the fact that said medicine is out of my body. Oof.

I’m really pissed off about this. I LOVE the ideas and creativity that have started to once again course through my little brain. The passion is back. I’m ready to pull off the gloves and deck the next person who looks at me funny, instead of saying a prayer that their life gets better and something good happens to them so they can be nice for one goddamned day already.

But …

OMG, the tears. I found myself sobbing before work today. I did that before leaving for the Den of Iniquity. (About the time I decided I HAD to be put on drugs.) I did that before Ye Olde Workplace Establishment, during those final months when they destroyed my beloved department and stuck me with a supervisor who loved to have weekly “Kumbaya”-singing meetings while I still had a SHITPILE of work to do.

I had to decide whether today’s tears were related to my current job, my health or both.

I haven’t decided yet. 😉

And I have this lovely person in my life who is cursing me with an unintended pregnancy, just because I predicted he’d get a parking ticket AND HE DID. Although … he was a doll and said recently that he hopes I DON’T find myself in that condition. I’ll take a compliment wherever I can get it!

So in all my weird emotional havoc today, paranoia set in. Do my boobs hurt? Well, one was kind of itchy. Does my back hurt? Well yeah I sit on a crappy chair all day. I ate a shit-ton of food today … uh, should I be concerned about this?

I actually left work early. If you can call 4:30 p.m. “early.” I felt like ass. I was starting to fall asleep at my desk. Another symptom? Egads!

I do realize that it’s the lack of transition between “happy pill land!” and “absolutely no drugs in my body other than birth control!” that’s got me all kerfuffled.

I still need to find a happy medium between “drugged” and “clear-minded and inspired.” I swear those drugs are the reason I haven’t decked anyone who truly deserved it. And it’s been kind of nice not crying. My friend told me a sad story at lunch and of course I welled up. I haven’t done that in forever. It felt good. At least I may deaden the pain, but I’m not totally dead inside.

Oh, mental state. Why are you so fragile?

I’m definitely going to get back on the drugs before Tuesday, the meeting that is going to be the death of me if I don’t wash down a bottle of Paxil with a bottle of Patron!

View from Duval House, Key West

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I was sitting in BWI on Sunday, after a lovely 18 hours with a dear friend who trekked south to see me, waiting for a flight (of course).

I got to the airport early. And of course the plane was delayed repeatedly due to the weather.

As everyone knows, to say I’m a frequent flier is an understatement. I’m more at-home in hotels and terminals than I am in my Palm Beach penthouse. (Although I do adore that, too.)

I was sitting by the California Tortilla, enjoying a cuppa joe from Mayorga (how I miss Maryland!), when a pilot from Southwest asked if he could borrow a corner of my table for a moment.

I said sure and we struck up a conversation. He was feeling kind of bummed because of the weather (increasingly heavy rains) and the pile of delays that were making his customers (and himself) more than just a little bit antsy.

I shared that I fly about three times a month. And that there’s no way I could do what he does out there; nor would I ever be so bold as to claim that they could do their jobs any better.

I said, look. I really appreciate how dedicated you are … how you want to get this show on the road and get your passengers to their next destination. And frankly, I don’t really care about the delays so much — I’m just glad that you get me home safely and securely.

If an extra hour or two means you have a better “drive” and you put me on the ground at home as uneventfully as possible, well then, know that I’m silently applauding you from my seat in the back of the aircraft.

He suddenly smiled — beamed, I tell you — and said, “You have just turned my whole day around. Thank you!”

I smiled and wished him safe travels. He waved and walked away.

I tell you this story not because I did anything wonderful or even out-of-the-ordinary — at least, not out-of-the-ordinary for me, anyway. I don’t pay compliments out of my ass, but I do my best to make everyone’s day easier and, if possible, a little brighter.

And I get a lot of crap for that.

In any case, at a time when evil bitchiness is permeating far too many areas of my life … at a time when I am really trying to get the hell away from it because the negativity impacts me far too much … I am reminded that I may get shit on as a “nice girl” — hell, people downright use your hair to wipe their ass, if you let them — I will have made a difference in the world when all is said and done.

I might not have made billions of dollars for my company or millions of dollars for myself and my associates, by the end of my life. But if I have done something each day to take someone to a new level, or improved their day by one little degree, then I’m OK with that.

And to hell with anyone who wants to make me feel that my identity is flawed or isn’t enough. Because I may not be able to live with anyone else, but I am quite content living with myself.

Check-out time from the hotel was at 11 a.m. today. I passed out hard when I got home from the prom somewhere in the wee hours. I was fully awake at 7:45 a.m. But I didn’t move till, oh, 10:20 a.m. At which time I did the fastest butt-scrubbing in the history of butt-scrubbing.

Forty minutes later, I was settled into another hotel. I’ve been wandering around the Inner Harbor. Got a lovely spicy mocha from Caribou, too. I miss cities — being on foot, even in this ridiculous cold, is welcome exercise.

Last night really was the best of times and worst of times. I felt like a princess in my prom dress. I flitted about like the social butterfly I am, basically getting wine from all seven of the booze stations at the Maryland Club. I schmoozed, I socialized, I rocked my little corner of the universe. What really kind of surprised me was how many people introduced themselves to me — “Oh, Goddess! So glad you flew up for the prom — I was hoping to meet you!”

Huh?

I spend every day drowning in the specter of incompetence and inadequacy … inventorying what I have to offer and what is needed from me … and not seeing enough overlap. And wondering whether I should just flush the mind meds down the toilet because I haven’t had one goddamned creative idea since this time last year when I first got on them.

I got some weird news while I was getting dressed. It didn’t surprise me. Nothing does anymore, really. And my fight-or-flight response — which is always programmed to “flight” — got powered on to “fight.”

I don’t mean fight as in “fighting for” something. Rather, to fight against it.

And I did.

More to come on that.

Needless to type, I got drunk as an everlovin’ skunk off of Chardonnay. Way to impress the colleagues, Goddess!

Everyone said I seemed sober. Well, everyone except K., who practically carried me home. 🙂 We walked in heels and bitter cold, and she locked arms with me and kept me upright and moving forward. I was pretty loopy. I promised myself I wouldn’t get too far gone. But at some point when I ran into one of my “boys” and had a wonderful conversation, I was exhilarated. And ready to party!

Speaking of my boys, I just learned that I’m going to get some out-of-town company this evening. So I’m going to get some rest and wait for my gentleman friend to arrive. I love, love, love my travels. And I love them even more when it means I can share parts of them and see people I otherwise wouldn’t.

I wish I could somehow combine the culture and excitement of Baltimore with the heat and beauty of South Florida. I mean, I guess I do, with the office being split between the two places. But I’m wondering whether it’s time to tell them that I need another change of scenery. My “kids” have begged me to figure out a way to get transferred to the Baltimore office. And truthfully, I think I need them as much as they need me right now.

As always, we will see. It’s in God’s hands. And God, if you’ve got the million-dollar idea that’s going to justify my existence and employment, I’d like that first. Because that will determine my direction. And I want, for once, for it to be absolutely right.