Caterwauling

Sabre wrote something a long time ago, when she was scaling her mountain of shit, that when all the drama and hassle was over, she wanted someone to explain to her in very small words why everything had to happen the way it did.

I find myself posing the same request to the universe.

But to look at her today, you’d never know that life put her through the wringer. She’s happy, she’s confident, she’s got her shit together. And if she can do it, why the hell can’t I? 😉

I didn’t sleep much — I never really do — and I dreamed of an apartment building whose management never called me back. The place was on the upper end of my budget, very small, completely nondescript from the outside. But it’s newly remodeled and located in the heart of everything that matters to me.

I’m going to drop by today. I’m sure they don’t have a unit available for, oh, NEXT WEEK, but on the off-chance that this is the one stone left unturned, I’m going to take a look. And if not, I proceed with the place that’s waiting for me.

I’m usually so impulsive, and lately I’ve been very cautious. I think I have one of those addictive personality disorders — it’s all-or-nothing with me. I can stop smoking for two years or I can blow through a pack in two days. I don’t touch a drink for months and then I get stumbling drunk seven nights in a row. I throw myself headfirst into relationships and then go months without thinking about having a social life. So when it came to this moving bullshit, I decided to explore all (50 of) my options. And you know what? Having more choices just makes this even harder to deal with!

I’m used to making decisions on my own. Not a one of them did I wait for someone else’s input. So now that I’m starting to make decisions for someone other than myself (i.e., Mom), I sort of don’t know what to do with myself, at times. I have no problem living with my choices for me. I want experiences and, damn it, I make them. But I’m the only one who suffers when they blow up in my face.

I was thinking about the major life decisions we face, and how life in the Big City sort of precludes getting input from others. Like when you’re a teenager and you have to bring home your dates so your family can determine that the boy isn’t going to be a serial killer or — worse! — a horny lad who feels you up at the end of the night. 😉

I feel like that familial aspect is missing from not just my life, but this area. No one sees your apartment before you rent it. I don’t think anyone I know has met the last few people I’ve dated. Hell, my mom hates it that she can’t even put a face on most of the friends and colleagues about whom I tell stories. So when it comes to the things that matter most to me, well, I’m on my own.

It’s not that I want anyone to make my decisions for me. I guess I just am always looking for, if not a nod of approval, an acknowlegement that I’m smart and strong and that anything I do will turn out fine. And everyone does say that to me … over the phone. But you really miss the physical cues.

For instance, Mom used to tell me how I lit up around certain people. How she knew there was magic when she saw me with someone because my behavior changed — subtly, of course — but because she knew me so well, she knew I was happy. I don’t get that feedback anymore. How do I know I’m happy when I can’t see that for myself? Do you know how many people have tried to thwart any level of peace I’ve achieved — do you think they’d just see the happy and let me have it already?

Snarling Marmot, a lovely gal who I miss terribly since she’s left for the Wild Wild (Mid)West, was the one who even got me thinking about that. As she wrote recently, “I have a much wider circle of friends in this ‘burg than I did in the vast expanse of Northern Virginia. And I find that somehow sad. In the giant metropolis, we were programmed not to get close, to keep our distance, keep our anonymity. It was some sort of weird preservation mode. Only your tight circle of friends was okay, no strangers allowed.”

I think I have good friends. Not an abudance, but I don’t really need that many. I’d rather have quality over quantity any day, and that has made a lot of people from my past think I was asocial, iconoclastic and just plain weird. But life ain’t a popularity contest, kids. I’d rather have a handful of people who know me well, than 100 who wouldn’t pick up the phone in the middle of the night if I needed them.

Then again, when have I ever called anyone when I needed something? Point taken. 🙂 But then again, when I do ask, nobody says no because hey, I’m low maintenance!

God, I ramble at 6 a.m. on a Saturday, don’t I?

At moments like this (and at hours like this) I really do wish I could just pick up the phone and rant. But that’s why God invented the blogiverse, eh? And it’s probably good that no one can see me right now, in last night’s makeup and having ice cream and coffee for breakfast, so maybe I should just be careful what I wish for, after all. … 😉

It’s 3 p.m. I need to cancel my dinner plans, as there is no way in HELL that I will be able to be in Arlington for 6 p.m.

And yet, I don’t want to treat this as yet another “no big deal.” I already don’t know when the hell I’m going to find the time to pack up my house and move, and if I can’t even free up a fucking night for dinner, well. When I start whining about my life, you have the right to point me toward this blog entry.

I’m gettin’ real tired of my relationships not working out because everybody’s too busy to put any time/effort into them.

It’s amazing, the follow-up questions I get to my cryptic blog posts, especially of late. 😉 Oh, if you only knew. … I assure you, the “real” stories are a lot more interesting than the existentially dramatic way I present them! But I’m sure, years down the road, I’ll laugh at how melodramatic I made things seem. I hope, anyway.

My friend D. looked at me today and said she can tell I’m sad, but luckily it’s just through my writing and not through my presentation. And that made me even sadder, like I’m crying out and screaming for help and not a soul would think that I was anything much less than fine.

But I don’t want to cry over the current bag of flaming cat crap that life has become. I mean, come on already — don’t I have better things to do? Looking at my ever-growing to-do list at work and at home, there’s no time to break down. And I consider that a good thing.

Rather than boo-hoo over things that have moved beyond my control (even if I did have some power over them at some point before), when the good things that keep eluding me finally come my way, I want everyone to say, “Damn, it’s about time!” instead of, “Why does she deserve all that glory and bounty and uber-fabulousness that is raining upon her?”

Like my mom says, don’t ever look back. Or, at least, don’t ever let anyone catch you, if you do.

I guess there’s a reason why there are billions of sad songs written and performed and probably only a million or so happy ones. Kind of helps to know when you’re feeling like the loneliest person who ever walked the earth.

I feel like, these days, I’m always trying to overcome something. And I guess that’s what life is, just getting through sometimes. It’s OK, though. It just seems like everywhere I turn, of late, it’s just the foundation of another chapter in my autobiography. At least, that’s how I manage to get through these adventures.

Eventually, I’ll emerge on the other side of all this — and triumphant, at that — but damn, it seems like whenever I reach the end of my rope, the universe just throws me more.

I’m also a bit disconcerted because my psychic vibes are SO off. I mean, it’s like someone came into my head and reprogrammed the switchboard. It’s like all the wishes I sent out into the universe have ended up in the dead-letter office. And a part of me wants to stop caring if anyone hears my pleas.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been coming from a place of loss, trying to find hope anywhere it can possibly spring. Perhaps I plunged headfirst into Denial, and I’m drowning in that river in Egypt. Because I swam for shore, and honest to Christ, I just want to jump back in and stop paddling sometimes — it’s like I keep going without any direction and hoping to just end up somewhere better. And the further I go, the farther I feel from anything that’s real.

But I don’t. Warped visions or not, I want to see what comes next. I want to see if all this bullshit is worth it. And I think it is — I never turn down an opportunity to become smarter, stronger, more callused from life’s little wounds … even if they’re self-inflicted sometimes. And damn it, despite myself, I’m a bleeder.

I booked a vacation with my little bonus. Nothing exotic, and nowhere I haven’t been before. But it’s like it’s not far enough away — I don’t know if anywhere is, really, though. What pisses me off is that now that I’ve got the tickets and the reservations, I found out Bon Jovi is playing there a week after I leave. DAMN IT!!!

And I kept thinking about my interviews today. It occurs to me that I am always looking for someone special, whether to work with, to befriend or to date. I know that anyone I choose, in any realm, is a reflection of me. And if they’re not immediately recognizable as special, well then, I won’t be special either.

I know that’s not true. I know I am Goddess, hear me roar. Etc., etc. And I know that a lot of people attach themselves to me to prove that they, in fact, are special too. Or that maybe being around me makes them special. I dig that, because I have the ability to make anyone shine. Everyone I’ve ever believed in really DID have that “certain something,” at least in my eyes. Even if I had to let them go because our paths diverged.

I feel lost without my spot-on psychic visions. That means I have to take a lot on faith. This is something I have always struggled with, as faith doesn’t come easily. I know in my heart that I have to trust where the universe has me, and in what it throws at me being essential to my personal evolution. But damn, it’s hard letting go of things I’ve believed to be true, and in trusting that they’ll either come around again or that I’ve freed myself up for something even bigger and better.

Lord, give me strength. I can’t seem to find any of my own right now. I don’t want to seem uncomfortable in my own skin, though, because I’m happy with who and where I am. But what I wouldn’t give to crawl out from under it sometimes and feel new again.

“‘Cause I’m broken when I’m open
And I don’t feel like I am strong enough
‘Cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away.”

— Seether, “Broken”

So last week, Mom decided she didn’t want to move in with me and be a burden to me (her words, not mine). So I got another apartment, a 1BR/den. And today? She asked if it was too late to go back to the original plan. Sure, whatever. I’m cool. But then, I went to make it happen, and that brought another day full of adventures.

The place I wanted, well, they decided a surprise $1,500 security deposit sounded reasonable to them. So I said fuck it and went back one more time to my landlady, who had Four. Perfect. Units. Available. I toured them all and would take any one of them, quite honestly, but I had issues with the two biggest ones, which I’d prefer for the price. (At this point, what’s another $50/month?) I slapped down the standard $400 deposit (flat, no extras), and went back to the other place to tell them I’d take that original amount and slap it on a vacation for Mom and me.

But at the other place? They are SO nice to me. They have been rolling out the red carpet — well, I assume they would, if they had one. 😉 They all know me when I walk in and the one guy calls me “Smiles” and always hugs me when he sees me. (Before you ask, very cute and VERY married. Damn.) But he and the other girl refused to give me back my holding fee — they said they’d ask the manager about waiving the extra $1,100. I said forget it, they’d lost me, and they asked me if they could at least try.

*headslam*

(Is it any wonder why I drink more than Lindsay Lohan?)

IF IF IF they can waive it, it’s a fair fight. Still more expensive there, but I do love that washer and dryer. But my place has finally hopped to it and is doing its damndest to keep me. I mean, anything I want them to do to the available units (new carpet, new windows, whatever — I asked, and I shall receive), they said they’d do. That’s a powerful bargaining chip over here in Never Never Land.

I don’t know what to do. I figured the decision would just make itself, and that effed-up security deposit based on my effed-up credit was enough to do it for me.

Quite honestly, I was pissed. Sure, my IQ is higher than my credit score, but come on already — just because I *can* pay that deposit doesn’t mean I WANT to. I mean, $1,100 can buy a COUCH or, hell, that cruise to Cozumel that I’d been eyeing for Mom and me because we really do need to get the fuck away from it all and really, truly, make a fresh start at some point. Or, hell, maybe I can pay off one of those credit cards I blew off when I wasn’t working. Jeez!

I was just in my car, blathering on to my best friend for a solid two hours about destiny and how it’s like we do our best to go against it, but it always presents itself in the end. Que sera sera and all that bullshit. And it’s more than the housing issue — god, it’s dating, it’s friends, it’s everything. How it’s the second you give up on something you wanted, that it runs to you and attaches itself to your side.

I was talking to another friend yesterday, and I said you know, work trusts me so much to make huge decisions that can either make us a million dollars or sink us in an instant, just based on whatever my intuition happens to be on any particular issue, various times a day. And I can’t even get my fucking shit together elsewhere — how am I supposed to make the important things work when I can’t get the “other” important things secured? How am I supposed to make good choices for the people who pay me when I can’t even find some peace outside of there?

There’s something to be said for making your own miracles, but when they’re contingent upon so many extraneous factors, what’s a girl to do when she truly doesn’t know whether to shit or go sailing at any given moment? I think a lot of other people just wait for others to make their decisions for them, so that if everything blows up, there’s always someone or something else to blame.

But that’s not me — there are things I wish would just decide for themselves, but when they do, damn. I’m the asshole who’s been drinking for a solid week, trying to overcome a relationship decision that is probably the right one, but how do you let a dream just go and die? Even when you know it’s time to start shoveling dirt on it, how do you give up when it’s the one thing that’s been getting you out of bed every day because it was something to look forward to? What do you do with the now-vacant real estate in your thoughts? Or was it all too hasty and needs to be revisited?

Everything on this blog seems like it’s a metaphor for something else. And I know that once I resolve my housing situation, other things will fall into place in lockstep. But to be at this point, where everything leads to a big, fat question mark, is exhausting.

But still, I’d rather have choices (right now, anyway) than resolutions. Answers aren’t final ones, but they do feel like it when they’re not what you were hoping for.

And sometimes, I feel like I’m staring my destiny in the face, and it’s daring me to move. But all at the same moment, it’s like it renders me immobile. Because I have no problem running away from things, but running toward them? I don’t want to fall and have nothing to catch me. And this whole walking-the-tightrope shit is hard to do when you’re afraid that you’ll reach the other side and then there’s nothing there, if you had actually thought there would be.

I don’t know. At this point, I’m just going to let everything resolve itself, and choose if I can among what remains. And, of course, I’ll always hope for a dark-horse candidate to enter the race at the last-possible minute, as that’s what always seems to happen. And when it wins, destiny will be on course once again. …

Brr

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

After running around like a psychopath for the past two weeks, Mother Nature forced me to run errands early in the day before grounding me. I watched episodes of “Grey’s Anatomy” that I’d missed this season, I napped, I hugged my cats and I cooked, like, real food and stuff.

Viva le snow day!

“There’s no one in town I know
You gave us someplace to go.
I never said thank you for that.
I thought I might get one more chance.”

— Jimmy Eat World, “Hear You Me”

Today would have been my grandfather’s birthday. It’s his first one away from us. I’m fine now but I anticipate going slightly berserk later in the day because, well, I do that every day when I start to miss him, anyway.

I would no doubt have driven up to Pennsylvania to see him. I probably would have done it unannounced, pretending I was busy down here but then meeting him and Mom at a restaurant. Last year, I sat down beside him in a booth and scared the hell out of him. But he was thrilled. He always hugged me so hard, he called it “squeezing the stuffing” out of me.

I miss those hugs.

“What would you think of me now,
So lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that,
Now I’ll never have a chance.”

Mom and I always feel like we stopped missing my grandmother as much, once my grandfather was gone. His loss is fresher, and he was it, you know? Everything that resembled our life died with him. Everything has changed — nothing feels sacred or even right anymore.

But when I was in New York last weekend, I was telling my mom about going to Junior’s, which I did every day of my trip (incidentally, I watched the Food Network tape an episode of “Good Eats” there on Tuesday), and I was swooning over chocolate and vanilla egg creams. I’d never had one in my life and I didn’t even look for it on the menu, but I asked for it on a whim and absolutely loved it.

Mom told me that it astounds her sometimes, how much my grandmother comes through me. That was one of her favorite things in the world when she was younger, and I guess she used to get them in all kinds of flavors. Anyway, I cried a whole bunch after Mom told me that — it made me happy to have some connection to my grandmother, and sad that all we have left are these little, random moments and memories that we cobble together.

“And if you were with me tonight,
I’d sing to you just one more time.
A song for a heart so big,
God wouldn’t let it live.”

I know I’m just an ordinary girl who’s facing the same losses that the rest of the world does, too, but other people get to grieve and move on with their lives. And we can’t seem to master that last part.

Maybe I’m selfish, but I’m always looking for signs that he’s crossed over successfully, that he’s OK where he is. But my psychic vibes fail me now when I need them most. Mom still thinks he’s going to come back to us — not just as a spirit, but that time is going to rewind itself and this is all going to be such a huge mistake that can be undone. God, how I wish.

In going through his things, Mom found a note he had written her, in case anything happened to him — we’re not sure when it was from, but given that those incompetents at the VA Hospital have been screwing him over for 50 years, I guess he was being realistic.

The letter was addressed to her and said, very simply, “You and (Goddess) need to go on to have a good life. Show ’em all how it’s done.” We just wish he was able to have a good life of his own.

OK, what I said about going berserk later on? That time has now come. *sob*

Happy Birthday, Grampy. Love you bunches.

This year’s Super Bowl is rather anticlimactic for me — my boys (da Stillers) won last year, so really, what’s there to get excited about? In my house, the game’s on but nobody’s home (mentally). It’s just another game in my world.

Personally I was rooting for the Baltimore Ravens to become a contender for XLI, as they kicked Pittsburgh’s ass (and others’) hard enough to show that they had what it took to get to this year’s big game. And let’s face it, if you’re going to root for a D.C.-area team, it ain’t gonna be the Redskins!

Anyway, big social weekend here. Good times. I spent most of the weekend in Virginia, in Arlington/Alexandria. There was apartment-hunting involved, but not the focus. One foray was for a date (*faints*) and another trip was a different type of date, so to speak.

Yes, there is speed-dating to help you find friends, kids. And I had the most lovely lunch today at the Cheesecake Factory with three gals, and I just loved it. It was just the right balance of socializing and networking and consuming tiramisu cheesecake to make it a great day in my world. It was even worth paying the $8 to park at Market Common!

It’s interesting, talking to other women my age who have similar lines of work and interests. I feel so at-home with people “like me,” and yet I (now) feel so separated from them because my life is changing so much. We’re sitting around making plans and talking about taking shopping/theater trips to Manhattan and I’m trying not to think about my disposable income, well, being disposed of and not being able to really be able to treat myself anymore after this month.

I went into the Apple store and “visited” what was going to be my tax refund — the black MacBook pro. And I thought, well, maybe I should pick up an iPod instead as a small treat until I can get the computer. And even with that, it’s like, “With what? Is that new security deposit going to pay itself? Will movers show up for free?”

This is now my inner dialogue — in fact, I needed a new coffeepot and found one I just LOVED, but instead I picked up one on clearance. I know it’s smart, but it feels sucky. I wish I weren’t too old to sell my eggs .. lord knows I ain’t using them! 🙂

I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to realize what a HUGE thing it is that I’m undertaking, and I’m starting to get scared. And it’s not just the money. I know that life isn’t supposed to be easy, but must it always be such a challenge? God, I want to do good work for you, but I don’t know if I’m as strong as you think I am.

OK, so Prince is performing at halftime right now. And seriously, who the hell is doing the closed-captioning on this thing? Clearly it’s a kid who wasn’t even born when these songs were popular. Gah. I can understand if they don’t know “All Along the Watchtower,” but come on, “Let’s Go Crazy” — how hard is it? (All right, I guess it IS difficult if you weren’t someone who donned jelly bracelets for a reason and not as part of a Halloween costume. …)

Eek, “Purple Rain” is on — I still get a damn nipple hard-on when I hear him sing that song. ‘Scuse me while I go fire up my lighter and sway. … 😉

I had a terrific opportunity to rant, bitch and complain this evening. An invitation, even. And out of nowhere, I realized that I was perfectly fine.

Weird.

Funny how peace can be so unsettling sometimes. But maybe the so-called comfort so many of us find in chaos is just an oasis, because as long as everything’s a clusterfuck, at least it’s “business as usual.”

It was good to be OK. And not “OK, for a change,” like I usually default to saying.

Options, possibilities and the inner peace to get through, with or without them — that’s all a girl really needs.

That and sleep, so g’nite y’all! 😉

“Everything that I said I’d do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on.”

— The Weepies, “World Spins Madly On”

Today’s my two-year anniversary at my job. I call it my job, and not my work, and in my world? That’s what’s called progress.

Things have changed so much since that cold, rainy, scary day in 2005. I hadn’t had an official job in months, I was wondering whether this job would turn out as fucked-up as the prior five, and I was so very terrified that I was going to do something to screw this opportunity up.

It was literally my life preserver — I couldn’t do anything but cling for dear life until I got my sea legs back. And I did well, all told. I learned a profession in which I’d only had fairly limited exposure. I gave it my best, and their best was given back.

I had a few choices presented to me at once — a dearth turned into somewhat of a bounty, as I had some bad offers and then I had this one. It was the team that enticed me more so than the work, at the time. I’ve always taken jobs for the workload, not for the people whom I’d serve. Big mistake, then. Because a great team makes up for a lot of long, hard days. Trust me on this.

And in time, the work caught up with my expectations. I am better-trained than most, and definitely best-mentored. My success has not been serendipitous. My network is wide, encompassing people who’ve “been there” and who want to see me get to where they are.

The team is somewhat different. Bigger, with one player gone and a bunch more added. The absence of the one is felt every day, but it’s been replaced by stronger ties to the other original players. We’d worked so closely together, and the office in which I’d spent so much time is now a place I don’t have occasion to visit anymore. The structure has changed somewhat, and so has the vibe. Not in a bad way, just different.

I spend time in my old office, as I’ve sort of taken the new occupant under my wing. I see something, someone special there — not only someone who is an asset to the group and who will, in time, become even more of an asset to me, but also someone who’s got that “special” spark. I don’t know what it is — it’s just one of those times when you just know you have the chance to give someone the opportunities that were withheld from you at that age. I hope I do well with this one and others to come. I am able to build my own team, but for the most part, I’m ridiculously happy with the one that has taken care of me.

And of course my personal life has gone through the wringer in all that time. My family went from sacrificing everything to save my ass while I wasn’t working to, now, me being the one to take care of everything for the indefinite future.

Today’s Horoscope: You may be rather uncomfortable with the level of emotional intensity that is likely to seep into every aspect of your day, Goddess. … Your detachment can be a great asset, but on a day like this it may be your biggest enemy.

The horoscope doesn’t begin to cover my emotional scope today. Today I feel passion — good and bad and every level in between. I have spent the last couple of years trying to be cool, controlled, almost unnoticeable — anything to keep from rocking the proverbial boat. But I am not in the mood to fade into the background today. I want to be seen, heard, touched, felt.

The Weepies have a great song that I’m listening to right now, and the lyric is a very simple, “You turn me into somebody loved.”

So many people have done that for me. Some have come and gone, and some linger. Do I make them feel loved in return? I turn into such a sixth-grader when it comes to showing I care about someone. I do it, but then wonder whether I should have kept it to myself or whether I should have been more overt about it, because there’s the possibility that they don’t know how much they rock and they NEED TO KNOW. And I need to be the one to convey it!

I’ve spent a lifetime holding everyone at arm’s length. I’m not promising to throw my arms around everyone now and hold them close, but this year, if I can just bend my elbow a bit and not hold them so far away, it’s a good start for me.

But if I do reach out — and not with my palm out — I will do so with the expectation that I won’t be rejected. That’s been my biggest fear and possibly the reason why I turn away first. I’ve lost too many good people this way, and I don’t intend to further the habit. Even if it means reaching back to the ones I’ve walked past, I’m going to do it.

And if I touch you, know it’s just as much to comfort me as it is for you.

Although I quoted The Weepies today (because they are my new favorite band), the real song in my head as I close this entry is Don Henley’s “Everything is Different Now.”

“Yeah, I miss the old crowd sometimes
And the wild, wild nights of running
You know, a starving soul cant live like that for long
You go around in circles that just keep getting smaller
You wake up one morning and half your life is gone
I got so tired of that; I got so lonely
I dropped down and I called out to heaven
send me someone to love.
And heaven shot back, you get the love that you allow.
And everything is different now.”

— Don Henley, “Everything is Different Now”

So, is life better or worse than it was two years ago? I don’t know. If I still had my grandfather on this earth, it would be better, no question. Ultimately, I guess it’s overall one for the “win” column, but I say that with the expectation that it’s going to get even better as time goes on.

It has to. I will accept no less.