Caterwauling

Cuban Coffee Queen

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, I guess it’s fair to say I have a lot of proverbial irons in the proverbial fire right now. Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing is close to perfect. Even if everything comes through, the pros equally balance the cons across the board.

I fear what happens should nothing come through. I like this phase, filled with hope and opportunity. Something HAS to work out, you know? It’s statistically impossible for not a blessed thing to work out. (Of course, now that I’ve said that, I’ve made God laugh. Didn’t I?)

I escaped to the Keys this weekend to clear my addled brain. It helped. Although I think I left my brain there. Perhaps I should go back and get it?

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I asked my mom a question the other day, whether it’s that I’m too smart or too dumb to succeed. I’m not quite sure what the answer is. All I know is that there ain’t a lot of success going on right now.

Even though I cut my workload in half to be commensurate with the pay I am bringing in, I still find myself working a lot. Yeah, the Internet is always slow (or out) and I want to scream at how long it takes to do the least-complex tasks. But I wonder whether I’m also dragging out the small amount of work to fill these very long days.

Tonight I have to research a topic I don’t support at all, and write three articles on it. Ask me how much fucking fun I’m having at the extra work for my silly flat fee.

But tonight I went out with mom and we did our little charity project together. That’s fun. It’s a small distraction from Everything Else. It’s nice to make a tiny difference where I can, and anonymously at that.

I’ve been grappling a little bit with grace and karma today. On our way out the door, an elderly gentleman here accosted me to get me to sign a petition to reinstate the Evil Landlady, who got fired two weeks ago.

*hahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa*

I know he had the hots for her so I can see why he would want the bitch back. I, on the other hand, have suffered undue amounts because of her negligence and nastiness, so HELL NO I don’t want her back.

Case in point, I got a package today from one of my author friends who sent me a signed book. Normally, I would never have gotten the package because I didn’t know it was coming. Only if I visited three times, prayed to the moon, danced a jig and produced a delivery confirmation, I MIGHT have gotten the package within the month.

But today, I got a note under my door announcing the package. (Which, they could have KNOCKED and HANDED IT TO ME.)

I went to see the kid in the rental office, and thanked him for letting me know a package had come. He said, and I quote, “Well, since old what’s-her-name took all the resident e-mail addresses, it was the only way I could think of to tell you that something had come for you.”

Old what’s-her-name. *snort*

I glanced at the old guy’s petition. It looked like he had signed a bunch of different names in different ink colors. They were all in the same large, slanted script. I’m guessing his petition hasn’t gotten a lot of support.

I was honest with him. I said that I’ve lived in places where the manager went above and beyond to help me. And here, simple courtesies or expected maintenance was laughed at repeatedly. So, thanks, but no I really don’t want to put my name on a cause that I don’t believe in.

He went OFF on me. YELLING OVER ME. That nothing was her fault and she did her best. I tried to interject that I agree — who the hell would WANT to run this albatross? Isn’t she happier without being responsible for Amityville anymore?

Blah blah more screaming. Mercifully, two other residents came in and I beat it out of there. I did tell him I would consider his request. That’s the best I could do.

Now, we all know I don’t intend to sign it. But as I thought about it, I was tossed out on my ass myself not too long ago. However, I imagine that someone, somewhere may have thought it was a shame … that I at least tried to be helpful and good and take care of people. And I just can’t say the same of her.

Nobody saved me, so there you have it. But then there’s that damn little voice asking me, “Well, maybe you have a chance to make sure someone else doesn’t get as screwed as you did.”

This “being a good person” thing is hard. She deserves nothing from me. I mentally said my goodbyes and wished her well. Can’t it end there? Or is God calling me to be a better person by forgiving her for all the hell and horror she inflicted on us?

Of course, you can’t buy grace. Doing a good deed against my bloody will isn’t going to get me an income I can rely on. It’s not going to heal my mom. It’s not going to write these ridiculous articles that I am appalled I have to lose sleep over.

I don’t want to carry a grudge. If they WOULD consider rehiring old what’s-her-name, I would hate to be complicit in that. That’s like your kidnapper letting you go and you turning back. Hell to the naw.

What would have happened had my job asked me back? Yay salary. (God I miss that part.) But would you really want to go back and always be walking on eggshells?

I don’t know why this bothers me so much. I guess being the windshield while the birds circle you is an altogether too familiar feeling. As a human, I would want to spare another human from that feeling. But as Goddess thinking about how treacherous Evil Landlady has always been, I’m going to have to work on my grace and forgiveness skills.

And frankly, I’ve watched the bitch treat the elderly gentleman who’s fighting for her terribly. Men are so freaking dumb sometimes. All she had to do was toss around her greasy blonde hair and he was hooked all over again. Pity. I’ll bet he thinks this heroic effort on his part will woo her.

And with that, I realize my life feels pretty cruddy right now, sure. But at least maybe it is that I’m smart enough not to succeed, rather than dumb enough. I don’t know. I guess I only have enough left in me to help those who deserve it, and I hope that somewhere someone feels like I deserve their help as well.

So, yeah, no more Evil Landlady. The place doesn’t run any worse without her. And I’m thinking most of the other residents feel the same way. But it does make me realize that even the next person won’t be on my side, either. So, it’s just about my time to go. Ergo, I am thanking God for my exit plan, whatever that may be, because I have to believe it’s on its way.

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011 Goddess AdrasteiaSome Rights Reserved

Bubble

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Ah, take me away, photo of the waters above the Coral Reef due east of Key Largo…

My brain is dead. My work is not done. I am back right where I was three years ago when I didn’t know where my house was because I worked so many hours. Now that I work at home, I don’t know where outside is.

It’s OK. Can’t complain, really. I don’t work the hours I used to, although the magnitude of each project is starting to consume me just a tad.

I almost fell over when I checked my e-mail today and got a note from another company that would like me to do some freelance for them. I was shocked that they approached me — it was one of those places that I make it my business NOT to, well, do business with.

I remember every company that ever screwed a friend over. I’m loyal to an extent. I mean, hell yeah I will take a paycheck as long as I am worshiped as the goddess I am. But it does get a little icky when there’s a backstory that I’m not supposed to know.

And I ALWAYS know.

This field is already small enough without eliminating opportunities based on past (and future, no doubt) dick moves. Shit, I am pretty sure I’ve already run out of places to work and/or people to work for, if I adhere to the “no buttheads” rule.

This was a hard week. Not excruciating but DEFINITELY frustrating. Either I’m going to get used to it again or I’m going to fling myself off the next glass-bottom boat I’m on and onto the nearest living coral reef. (If I’m doing myself in, I’m doing it in such a way that it hits at least the local papers.)

We’re doing another Keys weekend next weekend. (Fuckin’ YAY.) And I do have some plans this weekend. (Drunken pedicure? Hell yeah.) But my hottest date is with the ‘puter.

There’s SO much to do. SO VERY MUCH. These are the days we are going to look back on, as the cusp before absolute and utter greatness. Either that or the days I remember fondly as I gnaw on the restraints as I whack my head along the wall of my padded room. Whichever.

Glad I have wine. Lots and lots of wine. Because “adult fruit juice” is about the only thing that’s going to keep me healthy enough to keep at it till there’s something to show for it all…

Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2011 Goddess AdrasteiaSome Rights Reserved

End of an era

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, happy birthday, Goddess. Since 36 basically fucked goats, I’m declaring a do-over and NOT aging another year but, instead, trying to get it right this time.

I’ve been rather grumpy lately with my freelance life. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I love the freedom and the flexibility and the ability to disappear if you’re just not in the mood today.

But it doesn’t pay, it’s hard and you still have to deal with what passes for personalities sometimes. Just because you did the work, doesn’t mean a check will come … whether because the company doesn’t HAVE the money or else they’re exerting some kind of fucked-up “control” over you and choosing not to pay. I hate that shit.

And then there are the Twuntzilla types out there who promise to leave you alone on your birthday but who, alas, do NOT give you that lovely gift and continue to haunt you with incoherence and bossiness all at once. Maybe I could follow a directive if I UNDERSTOOD IT. Not that it pays for more than a week of rent anyway, but still.

I’ve been kind of “meh” the past couple weeks anyway over work and birthday. I hate birthdays in general because it reminds me how, I dunno, USELESS everyone and everything is. You think of all the people you’ve basically celebrated, helped or otherwise did shit for during the past year, and then you note their absence on your so-called special day. Or you get words.

I don’t need words. Well, I guess I do because I love Facebook on my high holy holiday. But then everybody retreats back into their hole and you’re left to your own devices once again.

Imma gonna quit while I’m ahead here, yo.

But I’ve got to DO something about this career of mine. I sincerely love working with one group, but I don’t know how “big” the job or money is going to get. (Not big enough for right now, I don’t think. But maybe someday.)

With another, I am capable of so much more than what I’m doing. I’m expensive because I’m GREAT. And I can be dicking around with dumb shit or I could be running the company. And we all know which I’d RATHER be doing. But fine, keep the brains in your operation hidden. Wouldn’t be the first time.

And with still another, it doesn’t pay enough. And that’s saying something, given the eau de desperation I’ve dabbed on these past couple of weeks. Talking to the person makes me want to die of boredom, and for pennies per word, without a guaranteed minimum words, I’m not inclined to open my e-mails in a timely manner. Another job I can do without the point of contact.

A few friends and I have a “mastermind” session planned for tomorrow. I think we’re going to come up with the million-dollar idea within 10 minutes of convening. I really do.

I just hope I don’t have to go back to a proper job in the meantime. But it’s looking that way. And that is NOT the way to earn what I want, or what I’m worth. But maybe I have to sell my soul once more to buy me the time I need to make “Project Next,” whatever that may be, profitable.

I’m gonna own your ass, World. And I’m gonna do it by the THIRD time I turn 36, I promise you!

Cream Cheese and Coconut French Toast at Benny’s

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I read a great quote recently, that it’s hard to live the life you want if it’s already killed you.

Hmmm.

Not much else to say after a statement like that, yes?

Not saying life has stolen my thunder. Not by far. I’m lucky that every day brings a new chance to get it right. But I wouldn’t mind going to sleep for three months and letting other people deal with everything I’m dealing with. Or, hell, dealing with what THEY should be dealing with THEMSELVES anyway.

I hear one of my distant cousins is threatening to call me this weekend for not taking proper care of my mother. I let everybody else go into voicemail; she’s going to be no exception.

My cousin takes care of everyone, so I guess she expects everyone will want to step out in front of moving buses just like she does. It’s only in TV and movies that people can say, “I give up,” and let people go off on their merry way. In real life, they either never move out or they continue to stalk you via the Internet. Lucky me.

Even to those my cousin hates, like her crazy sister, she grudgingly sends loving care packages. I used to think my cousin was a saint. But we can’t all be saints, you know? I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but under “occupation,” “saint” ain’t an option.

But there are genuinely good people out there who aren’t searching for bragging rights. My next-door neighbor moved back to New York today; he’s one of those “snowbirds” who lives in Florida during the winter. He’s a celebrity hairstylist who can afford two residences, apparently. Good on him.

He brought over a dozen plants yesterday, and left three orchids on my doorstep this morning. Yesterday he called me over to benefit from the cleaning-of-the-fridge ritual. I have lots of Pellegrino and German beers and shrimp and hummus and all kinds of delightful gourmet goodies in my formerly empty fridge now. What a treat!

It was nice of him to pick me to be the beneficiary. He says I’ve been a delightful neighbor — quiet, polite, friendly — and wanted to say thanks.

I will never get the proper respect or treatment from the people who, frankly, owe or owed it to me. But it’s nice to be the beneficiary of a stranger’s kindness “just because.” Sad how we really have to depend on others just to keep going sometimes, especially when we can’t expect it from those to whom we’ve shown it. …