Caterwauling

DSCN2092

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I took a bunch of sunset photos tonight. I never really use my zoom lens but damn, it was worth it.

I can’t figure out what the objects are that are blocking the sun. I imagine they’re either billboards or the standard dueling signs that point you toward 95 north or south. Miami or West Palm Beach? Either way, the roads are filled with old people and foreigners, but there’s always room for you.

I’ve been super-emotional today. (Every sentence in this entry starts with “I.” Deal with it.) Perhaps it’s because I’ve forgotten my meds for a few days. Or else it must be *that* time of the month, which I don’t even calendar anymore because I got hit with four cycles at once, then nothing for two months, and now who the fuck knows.

I’ve had a weird week. It’s been busy but it hasn’t *felt* busy. The past two weeks were exhausting and aggravating, to say the least. But this week has downright flown. As a dear friend reminded me, I’m a hard worker at heart, and it’s not really work when you’re not clock-watching every 10 minutes on the nose. (Thank you for that reminder. I needed it!)

The freelance job I love is trying to budget to bring me on full-time. God willing, that will happen. I don’t know that I’ll let the other stuff go, or let it go right away, but it’s the first time in a long time that I didn’t accept a job offer and go throw up and ask God to, please for the love of You, let me have chosen right.

The extra-terrestrial being told me, yet again, how MEAN I am today. She said, five minutes ago, “Can we go get a roll of paper towels?” And I said, simply, “No.”

Now, her car works just fine and I know I have a dollar in my wallet if she wants it. But I just wasn’t in the mood for a field trip at 7:55 p.m. Especially since I still haven’t gotten to Apple for my software upgrade. And that’s a good half-hour drive away. And did I mention I look like the Wreck of the Hesperus?

Yeah. Just because *someone* curled her hair and put on makeup 10 hours ago, as she does every day, in hopes that I would offer to take her for a ride doesn’t mean everyone else has anything more than a scrubbed butt. (And we’re under a water-conservation warning. The Intracoastal Waterway that you see in the photo? I could WALK across and barely get my calves wet.)

Anyhoodle, showering is about all I manage to do these days. I have a tan, my hair is almost pure blonde, and I really don’t much care about anything else. Where is there to go when you’re conserving money?

While I was out trying to take photos, of course the local poltergeist came out to haunt me. She has all damn day to sit on the balcony, but of course she waits till the two times I run out for fresh air. (I’m out of smokes, so fresh air it is.)

I got called “mean” outside when she told me to zoom in my camera on the man she’s declared to be my “husband” as he was at the communal grill. I said Jesus H, woman. I never want to be around anyone I date 24/7, 4 weeks a month, 12 months a year and five years and counting like I am around her. Who the hell would want to be near me when they have to have her surgically attached to my other hip? Christ, I don’t want to spend this much time with people I LIKE, you know?

She declared she’s pleasant, unlike me. I informed her she’s unbearable, incorrigible and passive-aggressive.

I am at that point where, if someone put a gun and one single bullet in my hand, it would be a HARD decision whether to use it on her, find my ex-boss’ evil sidekick (I’d say that’s the brains of the operation but it’s more like the least-useful opinion with the loudest voice), or aim at my own temple. Really, it’s a toss-up.

What brings me joy, though, is the fact that the cat refuses to clean her ass and insists on scooching her filthy crack all over the houseguest’s white sheets. (Which overjoys me, until the houseguest whines as she did just now, “You hate me that much? You’re mean!”)

In any event, with my beloved cat’s shitty (ahem) hygiene, it shows God really does love me after all. So maybe I’ll put down the hypothetical gun and just get my little kicks on Florida State Road 806. (Where the hell is that, anyway?)

Ah, well. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I’ve got lots of work to do this weekend, and I’m marching in the local gay parade. (Hoo-RAY, Sweetie!)

Christ, if that’s what it takes to get me out of the house, I will take it. Sign me up for every damn event parading through this one-whore town!

Two small victories yesterday:

1. A guy at Irish Fest walked up to me and gave me his number and asked me to call. I didn’t. I swear he couldn’t be any older than 22. I’m not old enough to be a cougar, but does this make me a bobcat? Either way, since you’re asking yourself, no he wasn’t drunk.

2. I am working on a project with a former boss. God bless him, I remember why I love him. He came up with the name of our project, and after I thought about it, I came up with a better name. On a conference call Saturday morning, he told everyone the new name and gave me the credit for it. Credit! For my idea! And not being told it sucked at first and then hearing that same person pass it off as their own. WOW! Thank you, Lord, for renewing my faith.

In what is an appropriate transition in my mind, tomorrow would have been my one-year anniversary with my last job. I should have known it would end the way it did by the cluster that day one turned out to be. I was scheduled to start on a Tuesday but then an all-staff memo went out that I was starting Monday. So, to make a good impression and cover up the innocent mistake, I went in Monday. The guy who hired me disappeared for the afternoon, when I assumed we would have at least had a welcome lunch. I spent the next week taking all of my junior staff members out to lunch on my own dime. I also took most other new employees out to lunch as they joined the company, if someone else wasn’t doing it already. As far as I know, they’re all still there. Clearly, getting off on the right foot makes all the difference.

In not-so-victorious (yet) times, though, I’m already behind in my freelance work. It’s a combination of confidence and laziness. I know I took on too much. But I also know I can do it. So the challenge is going to be the standard “beat the clock” until we get into the more-creative endeavors.

I just don’t want to muck this up. I seriously cannot go back to the rat race. I know I’ll come through on everything. It’s just hard to get motivated again. Like with my eating habits — I know I’m unhealthy. I know that in the past 12 months I’ve packed on 30 pounds. I know I am capable of losing it and that I need to lose it. But the urgency hasn’t been there.

But alas, it’s Lent, and I’ve monitored everything that’s gone in my mouth. I’m also watching what’s coming out of it, as I’ve been trying to curb my cussing, too. Baby steps, yo. I have to learn how to come out from under the “urgency” veil and just work at a pace a normal person can handle. But when have I ever been normal, and how am I going to start now?

When I started attending church a few years ago, I couldn’t wait to return to my blog and contemplate what I had just learned.

It’s not that I agreed with most — or any — of what I had heard. But I needed to process and reflect. Because while I don’t have a lot of strong opinions in life, the ones I possess are always informed.

John Maxwell is pastoring today at my church. He shared a quote to the effect of what I just typed — “Learn to pause or nothing worthwhile will catch up to you.” (Doug King)

And in the busyness of life, I’m grateful for the opportunity to pause. And this phase of the blog will pass, too. I look forward to recording fun things again. But for right now, I have to let the past catch up with me so that I can take only the best into my future.

John said that, for him, 2011 is a time of planting and not of harvesting. I think I can safely say the same here. The past year was my harvest. I was growing weed (metaphorically!) but it was nice to be high on life (pun intended) for the brief period I was allowed.

For me, there’s a lot of re-planting going on. Of looking at the crops I once successfully grew and choosing which of those would bring me the best bounty and the most joy. And of surveying the crops I always wanted to try my hand at. No time like the present to learn, eh?

John analyzes each calendar year and comes up with what he learned. And for 2010, he said he learned that:

1. Reflection turns experience into insights.
2. Adversity allows for intimacy.

I’m grateful for the mental catalog I’ve put together over the years. And while it seems I’ve spent more years planting (‘ho-ing?) than harvesting, it keeps up my spirits that next year will yield the products of whatever I plant now.

And going into his second point, I do get more intimate when the fan is spinning shit all around the room. I was reading my blog last night and trying to do so from the perspective of all the new readers I keep seeing on my IP tracker. (Welcome! *waves*)

No doubt, my personal writings are just giving folks more fodder for whatever opinion they already had of me, whether good or bad. And a part of me wants to take everything down and pretend everything is just peachy. But another part of me is defensive about my experiences and the way they’ve impacted me. Or, in some ways, how they haven’t.

In other words, I’m perfectly fine. I am spiritually healthy. I would not BE that way if I didn’t reflect at (sometimes exhaustive) length.

I realize I lost sight of one of my goals in the past year, which was weight loss. I remember going back to Weight Watchers and telling someone that I had lost three pounds my first week. Their reaction was essentially, “Well, things are about to get nuts, so prepare to forget about that.”

And I regret to say that I did put healthy eating on the back burner. I was OK with it at the time — there was new and exciting stuff coming up. But what the hell was wrong with me that I couldn’t handle both? That should never have been planted in my head, that one could not exist without the other. Rather, I never should have been OK with that suggestion in the first place. I should have fought to have it all.

Oh well. Hindsight. Visiting the past is pretty pointless when it truly has nothing new to offer.

In any case, here I am *not* reaping the rewards of seeds I lost passion about planting. Silly Goddess. It astounds me how much I know at this age and yet how little I implement any of it.

My friend Lady L gave me a bunch of lush plants when she headed north a few months ago. They are all looking very sad without their Momma. Looking back at this journal entry makes me want to head to Home Depot so I can replant them. What worked in her apartment clearly isn’t in mine.

Similarly, even if I don’t replant myself in another part of the country, a change of soil will do me good. No sense planting all these new seeds in a fallow field. I don’t know what this will mean, exactly, but I’m sure I will share it in intimate detail when I figure it out!

Just another tequila sunrise

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Just like China is kicking off its next Five-Year Plan (look it up) this year, I think it’s time to do my own five-year plan. Because the failure of not meeting my resolutions in 12 calendar months is too much of a pisser.

Ergo, between January 2011 and December 2015, I will:

1. Move to Key West.

I am done with cities and crazy people. I can walk to the damn airport there. I can drink all day and night and trade in my car for a moped. Sure, it’s about the same cost of living as West Palm Beach. But as the gal I met from Boca who now works in a clothing store on Duval Street, why pay the same to live in Palm Beach County when you could instead live out your days in the Keys?

2. Freelance, baby. All the way.

As I said in my last post, I think I want to do everything. And on my own time. I’m productive at night — therefore, I should not be slaving away during hours when I’m not the slightest bit awake. And let’s not forget that cafe/wine bar — my business, my hours, my dream. Not someone else’s.

I want to make six figures (goal: $125,000 a year to start) and I want to work five hours a day. Tops. Guess that means I have to write a book. A really good one. The universe keeps giving me the ideas — just need to put ‘em on paper!

3. Get married.

This is a non-negotiable. I want the bling. Nobody loves rings more than I do. I’d prefer an emerald (my birthstone) but I *suppose* I can settle for a princess-cut diamond in white gold. Platinum preferred. It would be the only “good” thing I’ve ever owned in my life.

But alas, it’s not about the sparkle. Not of the jewels, anyway. It’s not that I’ve had it with dating. But, you know, it’s time to find a permanent travel partner. And having another income would make these unceremonious shitcannings more bearable, both financially AND emotionally. Can anyone support my mom if I get tossed onto the streets? Exactly. Point made.

4. Adopt.

Yep. You read it right. I am NOT biological-mother material. Translation: Cabernet flows through my veins, and it’s what I use to wash down the pills. Don’t expect me to subsist on pre-natal vitamins and hormones. You’d get the next serial killer in a hurry that way.

But … if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s lead/manage people. And I call my people my “kids.” But now that my kids have been taken away from me (for now), I realize I need one of my own to permanently screw up. Er, I mean, to make into a lovable liberal citizen like myself.

I used to think I wanted a boy. I have mad respect for mothers of (good) sons. I know I can do it. But there’s something about pigtails and tea parties and frilly pink things that catches my attention once in a while, too.

In any case, my years of working in the foster-care system showed me that there are plenty of kids who need someone to love them back. Give me one or two who are out of diapers, and I think I would be very happy.

5. Lose ** pounds.

OMG, I stepped on the scale today and it mooed at me. I’ve slapped on 32 pounds since arriving in this town two years ago. Please shoot me. Please.

Now, I need to lose more than 32, so let’s just use the number ** and call it a day here. I just canceled my Weight Watchers membership (due to disuse and, oh yeah, NO JOB). And I’m eating everything in sight with all the stress. But I’m hoping that once I figure out my next move, the next move after THAT will be to Sweet Tomatoes for a celebratory salad.

I hope all of this happens on the earlier end of the five-year span. But I won’t cut off my ponytail and hang myself with it if, at this time next year, I haven’t checked off all (or any) of these items.

“I’ve got nothing on my mind: Nothing to remember,
Nothing to forget. And I’ve got nothing to regret,
But I’m all tied up on the inside,
No one knows quite what I’ve got;
And I know that on the outside
What I used to be, I’m not anymore.”

– Don McLean, “Crossroads”

I went from a wonderful weekend to one of the most frustrating weeks of my life. It’s almost too embarrassing to explain, but it’ll be in my book someday.

Mark my words.

Till then, I’ve let it go, and look forward to a better today without the burden of trying to change the world. “Operation: $@#%@!” is stalled and I am crying uncle for the moment.

I’ll get right back on that tomorrow, though.

“You know I’ve heard about people like me,
But I never made the connection.
They walk one road to set them free
And find they’ve gone the wrong direction.

But there’s no need for turning back
`Cause all roads lead to where I stand.
And I believe I’ll walk them all
No matter what I may have planned.”