Caterwauling

Because I’d rather play on my website than, oh, pack up my kitchen.

Trying to share music the “legal” (*cough*) way …

I keep finding notes to myself that I wrote when I was supervising the Incoherent Twit from hell. You know, there are more days than not that I miss being in management — I think I did OK with teambuilding and getting folks out of the office for one-on-one, not-just-a-cog-in-wheel time. But other days, we remember the ones who gave us all our hard knocks … at once.

Written circa late 2001:

Give honest, ongoing, consistent feedback about their skill sets. Figure out how their ambitions can possibly be integrated into the department’s overall function/mission to keep them engaged.

Dude, she’s got to be good at SOMETHING other than going AWOL or simply existing to annoy the shit out of me. She knows which buttons to press with me but I need to counter that with buttons to press with her that will make her productive. Clearly she’s not interested in what she was hired for — that’s fine because she is terrible at it and I’ve spent half a year cleaning up her messes and trying to show the superiors what I really do with my time.

I asked her what she wants to do. Write. Network with the community leaders. Build up a good clipfile. OK, so on top of my 16-hour-a-day job, now I am going to have to help her to bring her writing ability up to the third-grade level and ALSO take her along to my meetings with potential donors (who are CEOs and VPs in the community!) where she will promptly talk about her boyfriend in jail and the bathing suit she bought at Spiegel.com ON WORK TIME?!?! Good lord, give me something to work with here!

Don’t try to change the way you work; you will fail.

Then again, I’m failing already — if I can’t fire the problem child based on bloodline (despite a well-documented file of behavioral issues), my only adjustment is to work more hours. Yeah, that’s a GREAT solution. Almost as good as trying to help others to change the way THEY work.

Ask people up-front what we need to know about their strengths, values, etc.

I like that — I wish someone would ask ME. I need help, but when I ask for it I’m told to use the people I have at my disposal, when I wouldn’t trust my main person to carry my trash to the curb. My values are to have a strong team, a respectful one — one that wants to pitch in and do well — we might get praised individually, but we sure as hell fail together.

What are my values, though? Think about this one. Because I have a funny feeling that I’m continually going against them. At least, that would explain the rock in my stomach all the time.

Recognize that there are chiefs and Indians; it’s OK to not be in command.

I liken that to there being visionaries and cleanup crews. I like being a visionary; I just wouldn’t pay even immigrant labor rates to most of my Indians. My vision is constantly blurred by my exhaustion from being my own best Indian sometimes.

I love finding this stuff. Because I moved on from that job and had the dream staff. And now I’m back to being an Indian. (I have such a strange career path!) I think my life might have taken me back down this path again so that I can become an even greater chief someday — one that actually has the power to choose who stays on the reservation and who gets voted off.

I already have the name of my management book that I want to write — someday I guess I have to string all these crazy meanderings together and make it happen.

I wonder whatever happened to the idiot I wrote about. I would rather hammer my own toes than give her a good reference. Last I heard, she quit that job to go on welfare because she was tired of working. Proof positive that I ain’t makin’ any of this shit up!

Dear Week,

Dawn

Oh, and one more:

Dear Elevator,

Dawn

“Jenny’s got a job, a cat named Jake,
31 candles on her birthday cake.”

— LeeAnn Rimes, “Something’s Gotta Give”

Call it senioritis, spring fever or just plain attention-defecit hyperactivity disorder — I am so ready for the weekend. I swear somebody snuck a few extra days into this week already, because it cannot possibly only be Wednesday!

I was kind of sitting here just now, ruminating over how I’m feeling like Goldilocks trying to find the right speed of life. It’s always either too slow or it’s too fast, never “just right.” Half the time, it feels like I’m just floating along and trying not to shift into reverse; other times, I wish I could be burning calories in tandem with how quickly my mind is moving.

I have about eight billion things to do, but I’m having a hard time concentrating because it’s like I am afflicted with mental constipation, better known as writer’s block. The only reason I’m blogging is because I don’t want the word Monday (from Reader Poll Monday) being the top entry as we’re rolling into Thursday. 🙂

“She’s drawn a line that she won’t cross
Her and time are facing off
She says something’s gotta give.”

I hate when I neglect the blog because it’s the one “mandatory fun” part of my life. I insist on doing the daily thoughtdump here. I don’t care if it gets read — I just care that I’ve forced myself to do something that makes me happy every single day. Because, yes, I have to remind myself sometimes. And it’s a measurable output, so I have to hold myself accountable when I break a promise to, well, myself.

I don’t have a lot to say. I have a house to pack and time is ticking away more quickly than I’d care to acknowledge. More and more tourons are in D.C. and even though I drive to/from work during odd hours, I still have to deal with tour buses and just dumbasses who don’t know that the 55 mph speed limit signs are just suggestions and are to be exceeded as much as possible until you hit the Maryland state line, at which point you’d be wise to ride your brake on the interstates. And I found out my security deposit is, in fact, refundable — a little too late because I’ve been pretty much trashing the damn place since the walls are gonna be knocked out anyway. *sigh*

“Something’s gotta give me butterflies
Something’s gotta make me feel alive
Something’s gotta give me dreams at night
Something’s gotta make me feel alright
I don’t know where it is
But something’s gotta give.”

I found myself thinking about my move today and not dreading it. For once. I know it’ll be awesome to not play vehicular Tetris for 30 miles each way every day, but on the flipside, I’m having such a hard time getting excited. I am one of those people who never gets my hopes up. Ever. That’s why I didn’t start packing until I had approval from the new apartment complex — I didn’t want to jinx the process. Now, I’m left with a million last-minute details. Hooray.

I found some paperwork from two jobs ago, how my boss really just wanted me to prepare better for deadlines. (It’s a moot point where I am now, where the last minute is our friend and 10 minutes past the last minute is certainly no stranger. I’ve finally found my fit in the world! yay!) I’m in my element at deadline-time. I may whine and whimper and cuss, but I’d undoubtedly pass if someone actually did pull out a tranquilizer gun to calm me down.

Anyway, the point (which I’ve lost, I know) is that I thrive on/under pressure. Unless it’s my own pressure, because I will usually always negotitate with myself or ignore the little voices because I can. But what I do in saving things till they can’t be ignored is that I in effect give myself some sort of challenge.

I don’t like to do things the easy way, nor do I really like to do easy things. By saving them till the 11th hour, that’s what makes them something to overcome. Like in your 20s, you really don’t worry about how your life is going to turn out because you’re too busy living it. But enter your 30s and beyond and suddenly you’re painfully aware of all the milestones you haven’t achieved. Even those you still aren’t sure you WANT to.

“She thought by now she’d have a man
Two car seats and a minivan
But it still ain’t here.”

I don’t know. I guess while others are looking to believe in me, I’m looking for someone or something other than myself to believe in. Even though I doubt myself all the time and wonder why I feel certain ways and don’t feel other ways in different situations (versus what I think I might be “supposed” to feel), in the end I know that I was made this way for a reason and that the world needs contrarians even though you’ve got to nod along sometimes when all you want to do is be remembered for doing anything but.

80sTapes.JPG

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

As y’all know, I’m moving. And I finally accepted the fact that I haven’t looked at my cassette collection in at least 15 years (and my audio and video cassettes have been in at least that many apartments), so here’s one last glance at a few of my favorite titles (from then, of course).

I so totally, however, kept my Winger videotapes. You can take the girl out of the ’80s, but no amount of cleansing can remove the AquaNet running through her veins. …

I’m going to tell you why I hate moving. It’s because I’m compelled to dump the thousand pounds of paperwork that I’ve hauled everywhere. Not only that, but also because I take the time to read it.

And I just shouldn’t.

I just threw away my entire fundraising career. Believe me, I have no plans to return to nonprofit management/development. But I also got rid of the cell phone and credit card numbers of some of Pittsburgh’s most prolific donors. Why I kept that info is beyond me, but I have notebooks upon notebooks of telephone conversation notes, contact information, budgets, timelines and whatnot. It’s amazing, really, what I have accomplished in my lifetime. It’s a good reminder that I set out to be special and I didn’t let myself get in the way of that goal too often.

And then, in the process of digging, we unearth the personal writings. The stuff written in margins and at the back of those reporter’s steno books that I adore so much. And it makes a girl realize how far she’s come, yet how grown-up she was when she didn’t feel like it at the time.

But my observations and such are so timeless, like I knew I was going to want to write a book about it someday. Which I will, I promise. The world hasn’t met me yet, but I always knew I’d want to introduce myself someday, somehow.

Anyway, I wrote this when I was 25:

Read the rest of this entry »

I got “the” call from the apartment complex I’ve targeted. The holdup? My current and immediate past property management have not returned multiple calls to confirm my residence. Seriously. They said everything else is peachy keen, jellybean, and once they confirm that I have in fact paid multiple thousands of dollars to these places during the last four years, I’m good to go. In any event, they expect to give me a yes at the end of the week, so it’s a tentative yes right now. One wonders if this isn’t a sign from some higher power, but I am tired of fighting City Hall. I need to get on with my life here.

In other existential drama queen news, I spent my drive this morning thinking about someone I had the very good fortune to meet during one of my recent trips out of town. I suspected this person always existed and I was thrilled to make their acquaintance. I’ve seen/heard neither hide nor hair of said mythical creature since, which I sort of expected, but I was still awed to be in the presence of greatness. I only hope that my judgment was right about this one and I wasn’t just seeing a mirage. Time will tell, I suppose. But I miss them anyway.

I don’t sleep very well in general. I spend a lot of time at war with myself in my head, and sometime I take prisoner my ability to just breathe in and out regularly. Lately, I’ve been taking the sleeping-pill route, just to get a few moments’ peace.

It’s a big-girl world now.
Full of big-girl things.
And every day, I wish I were small.
— Kendall Payne, “Scratch”

When you’ve got a dilemma in your life, I’m sure you’ve heard people to tell you give it up to God or to sleep on it. Me? I’ve always told people to dream on it. Whether you’re awake or asleep, you’ve got to go wherever your imagination takes you.

That said, I’ve been having second, third and 80th thoughts about my new (potential) apartment.

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Not only am I a drama queen, but I am an EXISTENTIAL drama queen.  The joy of it all.

Do you ever just, for once in your stupid life, want someone to ASK you what’s wrong? Like, sincerely just want to know what you’re holding back? And then in the second that said moment arises, you tell yourself that your thoughts aren’t even worth mentioning and then you spend the rest of your life digesting yourself for missing an opportunity to unburden yourself once and for all?

Then again, maybe it’s a sign to grow up and get over it already. Maybe it’s your conscience’s way of slamming your mouth shut before a foot or two wanders into the gaping abyss.  I don’t know. I just wish I didn’t spend so much time wondering.

I found myself with an unexpected free evening last night, so I decided to spend time with my favorite person on earth … moi!

Whenever I lived in Pittsburgh and got into a bit of a directionless funk, I made it a point to wander down to Point State Park, where the famed “three rivers” converge. There was something about hanging out at the fountain (here’s a great photo of where I liked to sit) with my journal, staring off into the distance and watching the water.

I am a water person. Now, I can’t swim and I sure as HELL don’t get a tan (the Irish roots overtook the Italian ones, unfortunately, in that realm), but when I think about “escape,” I immediately think of oceans and lakes and, if we’re talking immediate access to infinity, then rivers. I’ve grown up around rivers and I’ve mananged to stay near one.

Thus, around midnight last night, I ended up in Old Town Alexandria (which sits right on the Potomac River) — sitting on the rocks at the edge of the water and watching airplanes flying up from the south to land at National Airport. The planes are so low that you can tell which airline they belong to just from the colors, and you can tell the size by the location and structure of the wings.

You could even say I’m an outdoors-type person, although I’m not athletic in the least. I have my windows/curtains open constantly and I wither without sunlight. I mean, suffocatingly so. And when well-meaning people tell me to buy a fucking sunlight lamp, I want to ram one up their asses because a $99 lamp isn’t going to give me that feeling of smallness, of marveling at Mother Nature, of gazing (with shades, of course) into infinity. My greatest creativity is generated by warmth and without boundaries. Because there’s always the chance of seeing something *different,* you know? Of finding inspiration unscheduled and unexpectedly. Of just not forcing it and not being disappointed if it doesn’t come at all, because witnessing simple beauty is enough to motivate me to seek it again, and maybe the words and images will come next time.

Anyway, I’ve digressed. Per the usual. So, back to the river. …

I went there sans coat but with MP3 player and had what might possibly classify as the best night I’ve had in a long time. Sure, I wanted to toss all the couples molesting each other into the fishy depths of the Potomac (it’s a park at midnight. Go figure), but I had a rare opportunity to commune with nature as well as with myself.

I went there looking for some sort of revelation. Well, maybe that wasn’t my initial goal, but it was up there. I know I’m going to be moving out of this area soon (and at some point, I might acutally pack a box or call an apartment complex, as time is a-dwindlin’), and I just wanted to savor some time in my current stomping grounds.

I ask a lot of the universe sometimes. I have conversations (in my head, of course) with it and ask for guidance and assurance that I’m going in the right direction. The way I figure, the universe has (to date) overlooked me in a lot of ways, even though I feel like I’ve practically been standing on my head and jumping up and down, begging it to (allow me to channel “Meredith Grey” here for a second) “Pick me! Choose me! Love ME!” And every time, it laughs at me and looks at me like, “Why would I?” And I never seem to have an answer.

Anyway, while I don’t get everything (or much of what, for that matter) I want, I do get my little messages answered here and there. And if that means I have the wherewithal to keep going another day or year if that means I’m closer to *something,* whatever it might be, then that’s what I will take and I will savor it for now.

So I was looking for some Big Revelation from the universe as I sat on the rocks and stared down at the ripples of water seemingly rolling toward me personally, I got it. Now, it’s not earth-shattering, but for me, it was what I’d gone fishing for and I would say it was a successful expedition.

So I asked the Goddess (and not me as the Goddess, but rather the superhuman one) whether I were going to turn out OK. I threw that question into the water and waited. And waited. And out of the blue, a song popped up on my MP3 player — one that I heard on the very worst day of my life and I haven’t heard since — that has the line, “Everything’s gonna be all right.” (Shawn Mullins, “Lullaby”)

And I understood, I’ve GOT to be OK. I have no CHOICE in the matter. I’m going to have all the intangibles I’ve needed, and hopefully maybe some of the tangibles. (Mmm, MacBook Pro. Someday!)

So, I didn’t just jump in the water and be done with it. (Again, not my intention, but the visual was there and I was depressed to realize no one knew where I was and that I’d probably be missing for months before anyone even noticed.) But in the water I saw a published novel, I saw a tropical vacation, I saw family and friends and champagne glasses and music and celebration. I saw the anvil that seems to weigh on my heart and my thoughts being lifted. I saw a future I want.

More importantly, I got the feeling that it isn’t as far away as it has always seemed.

Maybe what I talked about in yesterday’s entry is what I’ve been doing all along — working on flourishing in the end. Trying to make the best decisions I can and be the best person possible and attempting to suck it up and get through the here and now with nothing but my character intact in the hopes that in the end (or, rather, in the next stage of my existence), all the good things will be resting on a solid and carefully built foundation and that those won’t crumble and evaporate because I’ve done the hard labor to ensure the great things will flourish from there for a long time to come. …