Caterwauling

Am clearly not so good at the daily blogging part of National Blog Posting Month. Oh well. I’m sure I’ll have 30 posts by the end of the month, just concentrated in four days!

I was on a Top-Super-Seekrit Mission this week that mercifully ended last night. I was asked to moderate a panel at a convention and it would also be webcast. I wasn’t really nervous about it until yesterday when I realized I hadn’t prepared a thing for it.

So I did write down some remarks that were mostly boring but at least they served the purpose. And I was fine as I sat on the dais in front of about 300 people (and who knows how many viewers at home). But when the dude doing the recording in the back signaled to me that it was “go” time, I damn near had to stave off a full-fledged panic attack.

I’m one who gets nervous about nothing, mind you (other than wondering whether I’ll ever get my happily ever after. Everything else, I presume, will work itself out).

I figured with the very, ah, strong personalities and love of talking that my panelists possessed would save me. I mean, for all intents and purposes, it was just a televised staff meeting. And they did great. Really, really great. I mean, to be considered “good enough” to be seen in public with this crew is not a small feat.

But when I heard the sound of my own voice … in the microphone … and people waiting for the pearls of wisdom I would share and bring out of my guests … the only thing that ran through my head was, “Don’t say fuck. Don’t say fuck. OMG, don’t say FUCK!”

I didn’t say fuck. Clearly, it was the only thing ON MY MIND, but it didn’t come out. And, in that, success!

Everyone assured me that I did fine. (Could they not HEAR the terror that overtook my voice? Which went away when the session ran longer than expected and the cameras got shut off?) I even got higher compliments than that, actually.

The highest compliment of all came simply from being nominated me to do this, as some Very Important People actually thought I would do well and not publicly embarrass the company. And really, everyone was happy with me as the choice. I don’t know why. Do I NOT come across as a blithering, blathering dipshit? Because, I do have more of those moments than cohesive, articulate ones. In case you haven’t gleaned that from reading this page.

Anyway, it’s over. Yay. I treated myself to a $15 glass of pinot noir and a bowl of pumpkin soup to celebrate. (I didn’t know the pinot cost as much as a BOTTLE elsewhere.) I figured I’d be served the house label and not the Estancia.

But you know what? That wine was da bomb. Truly worth driving the ol’ checking account deeper negative numbers. Hey, I earned it!

To top off a great night, I heard from my out-of-town connection, and I find myself actually starting to get a little antsy. Like, OK, I like being a few hundred miles apart because I don’t have the time to devote to anything other than my career and preserving my sanity.

But yesterday was the first time I hung up the phone and held it to my heart for a few moments, not quite sure what I was feeling but knowing that this is fine but maybe it’s not enough. I’m very cool with things unfolding as they may, if at all, and if it’s nothing, then that’s quite OK too. But at some point, a girl’s gotta find out.

In either case, as I swirled my wine in the glass, sniffed it like the pro I’ve become and nodded at all the people who looked my way, I smiled. A real, genuine, from-the-depths-of-my soul smile. It’s not that I was proud of anything I said or did last night, or that I was happy to not have embarrassed myself or my organization, but that I felt like I was going to turn out OK after all.

Here’s to hoping that wasn’t just the wine talking.

Main Entry: buzz·kill

Pronunciation: \ˈbəz-ˌkil\

Function: noun

Definition: When you’re in the middle of, ah, “me” time and your mommy knocks. And you KNOW she ain’t gonna wait for you to answer the door so you’ve got some, ah, hiding to do!

Related Words: “God, why are you tormenting me?”

Oh, I did promise to write something every day this month, right? Bleagh.

OK, so I was headed toward Alexandria for what would be a lovely brunch at Overwood with Tiff and Tom when I decided to get my newly lit “check engine” light, well, checked at my old mechanic in that area. Five hours later — yes, they picked me up, took me out and returned me safely — I got my car out of the automotive pokey. And lo, I ain’t singing yet, ’cause this drama is far from over.

First they had to order a part from another mechanic. It came at some point. And it came WRONG. So they had to order it from another place. And had to go pick it up. Oh and BY the way, did I know that two of my tires have holes in them?

I’m like, fine, ring me up some new tires.

“Oh, we don’t sell tires,” they said.

“Of course you don’t,” I said, somewhat cheerfully, somewhat maniacally.

We’ve moved the nearly deflated tires to the rear of the car since the power and, more importantly, the BRAKES are in the front.

While I was waiting for this blessed event to come to a merciful end, I got a call from someone saying that he probably wasn’t going to be able to make it to something I’d invited him to.

Of course. See, there’s a reason I’ve stopped getting my hopes up. And this was it. But I admit to letting myself wonder about it from time to time, when I REALLY needed to picture something going right. Oh well. Another time, right?

This all came after my computer — both the monitor AND the hard drive — climaxed together and committed suicide by asphyxiation this morning, too. Yay.

And I remembered why I stopped using my laptop, as plugging the cable Internet cord into it never did work. I had asked a ton of people how to make it go, but other than an “Uh, did you disable the firewall?” and a corresponding ass scratch, that was pretty much where I quit pushing the issue.

Anyway, I was so glad I was done with having a car payment (on my own vehicle, anyway) but between today’s repair and the tires I have to find the fucking time to buy this week, well, I didn’t REALLY want to be saving up for a new ‘puter, did I?

Speaking of, this thing’s about to fizzle yet again. …

I figured I should start going to meditation class. No time like the present, right? I figure, I’ve got so much on my mind these days, I could use a little bit of “me” time in my own little sacred space.

I didn’t want to judge it, as I need the techniques that these people know. But the class stressed me out more than I already was.

I think it helped, in the end, as it served to ease some of the tension that I carry in my neck and upper back. I was way mellow as I drove home, so not only was that a first, I guess we can call it a plus. So yeah, I guess I’ll be going back.

In the interim, here are the top 10 thoughts that ran through my head as the leader guided us through a meditation in which we were to imagine our various body parts smiling. Yes, you read that right.

1. If you can make my ass smile, then this class will have been worth the cost of entry.

2. Does thinking of somebody else’s smile qualify as envisioning the curve of a smile in my heart? Because my heart ain’t whistling Dixie here.

3. With my eyes closed this long, my eyeliner is definitely smudging. Damn it. I need to buy waterproof liner for next time.

4. Envisioning someone else’s smile is awesome. Wonder what that person is doing right now. Wait, am I smiling? Oh yay!

5. Wonder WHO that person is doing right now. Is homicide justifiable?

6. My ass is DEFINITELY not smiling. Nor is any other body part. Humph.

7. My legs are asleep. And my ass hurts from sitting on the floor. Screw this happy, tree-hugging granola shit.

8. What’s the point of relaxing, anyway? I just have to go home afterward.

9. What the hell is Dionne Warwick’s “I’ll Never Love This Way Again” doing in my head? Holy repressed memory coming through.

10. I should probably turn this shirt inside-out when I go to wash it.

Yes, relaxation and I are two ships passing in the night. …

There was a time when my friends and I blogged every single day. Multiple times, if we could swing it. But then days and even a week or so can go by, and none of us update.

It’s sad, really, because we are all so busy that tossing up a blog posting was our way of saying to the world that we’re still alive, and it was kind of our connection to each other. Especially for someone like me — who’s changed addresses, e-mails, jobs and phone numbers, not to mention that folks who use to know me probably wouldn’t recognize me if they passed me on the street — I understand that the blog is kind of my “still breathing” signal.

I had asked one friend whose blogging abated long before mine did, why she didn’t update anymore. She just kind of shrugged and said, “Don’t really need to.”

I don’t think it’s that I don’t need to use this space to record my life; maybe it’s that I’ve stopped wanting to. Or simply having time to.

I’ve been on this super-secret mission for quite some time now. Nobody really knows what I’m up to and it’s weird, not touching base with everyone to say, “OMG, you wouldn’t believe the ridiculously awesome things that happened last night.” Because although yesterday does not rank in the top 10 days of my life to date, the after-work hours (since the workday was what they call a “big fat fucking waste”) were just so, so surprising. And pleasant.

And maybe I want to keep a little of that to myself for now.

I remember with one of my relationships that I was just so SURE was going to turn out to be something, I blabbed. Not here. Well, OK, yeah I did. But in another place where I post, I was just all hopes and smiles and “OMG, I deserve this and I can’t wait to see where it goes.”

You know what that’s called? Jinxing yourself. Seriously. What a holy fucking fizzle that was.

So I’ve sort of trained myself to get my hopes up a little — just a teeny, tiny bit — but the less I share with the people around me, oftentimes the better it turns out.

It’s strange that way. And somewhat disappointing, because I really do love to document my journey. I dunno, I guess I just want to give others hope, that if I can make miracles work, so can they.

I also suppose I want to be able to see where I went wrong … and where I went right. I know that when you finally reach a goal, you can forget a lot of the details that got you there or the ones you could have eliminated to get you there sooner.

In any case, the important thing is that, even though I can’t really say what I’m up to, I’m still up to some things. And maybe it’s a blessing that I not get caught up in all the details till I can have time to reflect on them and make sense of them in a completely different context.

It’s weird not talking it out. But it’ll be OK because I’ll just have more stories to tell from the other side.