Caterwauling

Christmas at DCA

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I went to see “Four Christmases” yesterday and pretty much loved it. Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn’s characters are living exactly the life I want — surrounding themselves with expensive things, taking exotic vacations and avoiding all things family-related. Ah, to dream. …

Without spoiling it, the question does arise whether that’s all there is to life. And my answer would be “That’s fine by me!” but nobody’s asking what I think.

I’m making a conscious effort to not go all manic-depressive this holiday season, but this one is testing me more than most. (Minus the one four years ago. Just, don’t ask.)

I just want to know what a good holiday season feels like. One that’s not reminding me how financially fucked I am or how significant-other-challenged I always seem to be at this time of year. And now that I’ve got a built-in roommate (whoever said it’s cheaper to keep her, needs to get smashed over the skull with a brick fireplace) who is either clueless to, or simply ignores, my absolute discomfort at the situation, well, what’s the point of surviving the holidays when nothing looks to be getting better?

I skipped church today — I tend to do that when I need it most. But the bathroom was occupied when I woke up to start getting ready, so I rolled over and went back to sleep. That and, hey, it’s raining. I hope the baby Jesus will understand.

My recent vacation was my Christmas present to myself. I didn’t do nothin’ but shop, eat, drink and lounge in the tub. No cat fur, no intrusions, no sharing my oxygen.

And no answering the phone or looking at the e-mail, during the latter part of the trip. I’ve been so caught up in the details of making other people’s dreams come true, I’ve forgotten how to contribute my vision to the executing of others’.

I’m at this weird place in life where I could continue the career I have — I can get really good at it and do this forever. Or … maybe I’m at the point where I’ve learned enough and maybe it’s time to learn/do something new — preferably something that’s more immune to the recession at hand, if such a thing exists.

I dunno. I’ve always been happy to let my fate find me, whether it’s job, career, friends, family (or urban tribe), pets, boys, etc. I don’t actively seek anything.

And what I seek now — to have my house to myself again, to not be worried to death about losing employment in this tough economic conditions, to enjoy a healthy and functional relationship — seems downright impossible at this moment. I know everything’s within my power to obtain/achieve, but at what point are you just too beaten-down to pursue anything other than the occasional scrap of peace and quiet to simply exist?

Anyway, I don’t wanna just exist. I don’t want to “get through” the holidays, the next fiscal quarter, the next year of the lease.

I don’t want to keep putting off a computer purchase till my meager savings is dwindled down to nothing to pay all the bills.

I don’t want to be where I was four years ago, missing a job I hated with all my heart because I needed the (pathetic amount of) money it provided.

I don’t want to look back on this time where I alternated between anger and passivity when I could have been nicer to people who are rubbing my nerves like a fluffy cloud of steel wool.

I don’t want to believe that this is as good as it gets.

I don’t want to find reassurance in that there are plenty of others who have it way worse than me.

I don’t want to feel like my best days are anywhere but in front of me.

I want to see how great others have it and continue being happy for them. And I also want to feel that I can achieve that level of joy and love and accomplishment and completeness for myself.

I spend a lot of time in denial, of avoiding the things and people that stress me out. I guess I just want them to know how miserable they make me, that I have to pretend they don’t exist in order to get through a day/week/whatever. I also use that exhaustion as an excuse for not keeping up with the people with whom I very much want to share my time and love.

But now that I’ve had a week to myself, I’ve had a chance to chill out and look at the big picture again, instead of being mired in all the details that mean so much to seemingly everyone else but me. And I feel like I can continue in this path and rise to the top of it. But what’s going to motivate me in the meantime, other than fear and obligation?

I know I’m going to end up where I’m supposed to end up. But how am I going to recognize/fulfill my own dreams when I’m so busy tending to everyone else’s?

I had the first restful weekend in a year, and it’s totally shot. *SCREAM*

Am investing in a litterbox for under my desk for days like today when peeing! eating! not-doing-fewer-than-67-things simultaneously and on (past?) deadline! wasn’t feasible until 4-the-fuck-o’clock.

more animals

I have a friend who escapes life’s hell by spending weeks at a time volunteering in impoverished countries. Yes, in a world where THAT qualifies as relaxation, there but by the grace of God go I.

I’ve also lost more vacation days than I’ve used this year. NAWT KEWL.

Seems like we’ve got to launch a new product every time I want to take a day off. And on the next day I was planning to take off (seeing as though someone who was supposed to meet me somewhere now cannot. Vague much?) to go see said person in their world, I have another f’in product launch that day.

Seriously universe, please to stop screwing with me. Kthxbai!

I don’t know WHAT it is about me that’s just PISSING everyone off today, but let’s consider it as me returning the favor, mmmkay?

I’m in a delightful mood, independent of anyone else who lives, breathes or even so much as blinks within a 35-mile radius of me.

And I really don’t mean to be offensive. I think my litany of questions (regarding things like, oh, the status quo and the injustice of it all) are wearing people out. If all were hunky-dory, perhaps I wouldn’t be asking the questions that I’m asking, innocuous as they were intended to be, anyway.

Am rooting for a Steeler win tonight, not just because they’re mah boyz, but also because if the Redskins win, we get another four years of a Republican administration. Yay. Barf. NOT. I’m cheering extra-hard for the Steelers, since a Redskins’ opponent victory on Election Eve means Barack Obama will become President Obama.

I commend some of my friends who are writing in Hillary Clinton. Believe me, if we had a snowball’s chance of electing her that way, I’d be on board. But I’m aware that our system, flawed though it may be, is a two-party one at present. And a vote for anybody else is NOT a vote for Obama. And I can’t handle the burden if he does not become President-Elect.

Don’t get me wrong — my wounds are still fresh from the media basically telling people to stay home and not vote for Hillary back when she was running against Barack. And I know from past election experience that more people will be discouraged from visiting the polls, that votes recorded will somehow magically not be counted, that computers will go down and fairness may be lost in the ether. I ain’t tempting fate. My vote is going to be lost among a sea of blue here in the Democratic Republic of Washington, D.C., and that’s OK by me.

Until then, back to packing up my cubicle. I once said that the better my title gets, the smaller my office gets. I’m going from the Cadillac of cubicles — er, sorry, “workstations” — and going into one with an eighth of a window and one wall separating me from someone else I am sure I will come to piss off. Because if nothing else, I am an equal-opportunity offender.

I have a blog post brewing about topics I should never say out loud. Which means there had BETTER be a former-department happy hour in the works SOON. …

I’m sure you, like the rest of the world who would rather amputate their left ass cheek than vote for John McCain, got the e-mail to take off Election Day for Barack Obama.

And I just wanted to reply, honey, I am not able to take off for God Himself. Further, if I was taking the day off for a man who’s not hard to look at, canvassing wouldn’t exactly be the way I’d spend it!

One of my Twitterfriends tweeted last night that if we vote now, can we stop hearing political ads? I think that’s a grand idea, especially considering that I have no idea when I’ll be able to vote on Nov. 4. Why aren’t the polls open at 10 p.m. when our shifts are finally over?

Actually, I did make a voluntary promise to my boss that I would neither take a vacation day, use a sick day nor, well, die anytime in the next few months. But I never said ANYTHING about not quitting.

Just kidding. I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. I love lamp. I love … somebody hand me some wine, OK? So what if it’s only 6 a.m.?

I may not have anybody up my cooch, as of this typing, but I sure have an army up my ass these days.

I admit, I’m a little irritated that I missed a ticketed event last night thanks to that thing that both pays the bills and takes more years off my life than a thousand cartons of Marlboro Lights.

Sure, I could have gone late. Yes, I’m the one who ultimately decided that I didn’t feel like changing into semi-formal clothes, doing my makeup, hopping on the Metro and forcing myself to be social after the day I had.

It’s my own damn fault that I missed out on the awesome swag (cosmetics and such) because of my own homicidal tendencies. But damn, can’t a girl even get a half-hour in which to simply pull herself together and not always have to be rushing from one thing to the next?

I actually woke up this morning and thought it was Saturday. That there could not POSSIBLY be one more workday left in this week. Hah. WRONG.

Well, before I get forced at gunpoint back into the hamster wheel, a moment of levity. You’ve got to love a male doctor who puts you in stirrups and compliments you on the fact that your toenail polish matches them! (They were purple.)

A friend asked me whether I get freaked out at the hoo-ha doc since you’ve got your ass hanging out and such. I said no — perhaps too many people saw it in my 20s, so I think it should be housed in the Smithsonian with other property that belongs to the public.

I’m more vulnerable when it’s my soul on display. Which, luckily I guess, I don’t have the time of day to do, so at least something is being preserved during this ridiculous era of my life. ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t my sanity or the will to keep up this pace for much longer. …