Goddess, get your gun

February 28th, 2018, 10:18 PM by Goddess

Mom keeps having dreams that I’m involved with my 10-years-younger hot mechanic. (OK, he did ask me out but I wasn’t sure what to make of it.)

I dreamed of someone I don’t think about. Who flares up ‘roid-like to project their own weaknesses onto me. But it was an educational dream, as others in said dream could explain something to me I didn’t realize on my own all these years.

I don’t think I have intimacy issues. Just haven’t met a man who’s spent 40 years working on himself and becoming a better person the way I’ve sure tried to do.

Secondarily, I do see all the deadbeats mom wasted her time with. And relatedly, having mom move in wasn’t the best thing for my social life. Her choices, and their effects, shape my life — and change my choices — even now.

But the dream showed I do have intimacy battle scars. I don’t want anyone in my space who can turn on me and try repeatedly to ruin me. I got that souvenir T-Shirt in quite a few colors, thanks.

It all makes sense as I try to fit the Parkland shooting into my head somehow.

Now, I look around the office, movie theaters, stores and open spaces — wondering who’s the likeliest to be packing and, more importantly, whose light they’d snuff out first.

And I don’t want to die or have my career at risk again because someone feels they are entitled to taking something away from me. To punish me for doing well or protecting myself or just being lucky.

I don’t know that I’m as strong as my Stoneman Douglas neighbors. Not anymore. But I’ll take lucky. May that luck continue to outlast and overpower any darkness that dares entertain heading this way.

You can’t miss if you don’t swing (and that’s a good thing)

December 14th, 2017, 6:01 AM by Goddess

I have a friend I quote here from time to time. Because she’s brilliant.

Her latest is stuck in my head:

“Life will throw you curveballs. But you don’t always have to swing at them.”

We’ve always been told the opposite. Wayne Gretzky said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” And that man sure scored a lot of points for my beloved Penguins. Other than every Wayne I’ve ever known being a compete douche (and one more follow-up douche moment for the books), wouldn’t you want to be like this particular Wayne?

I don’t have anything profound to say after another night of listening to the neighbors gallop across my ceiling and then the cat yanking me out of bed to feed her hungry belly.

But yeah. Lots of curveballs here.

I’ve felt pretty helpless, swinging at them till my arms hurt. Today I’m going to stand still and let a few whiz by. Let someone else swing. Let someone else endure the injury today. I’m too old for this shit. And so is the screwball lobbing all these blunt objects at my head.

When I grow up

November 27th, 2017, 6:41 AM by Goddess

Now that the unemployment line is staring me in the face, everyone either responds with:

A) OMG what are you going to do?!!?!?!?! #panic

B) Great. You were too smart for that place / it was killing you anyway. Now you can do what you really want to do. Dream big!

I’m not sure which reaction bugs me more. Probably the first one, as it forces ME into a role of trying to comfort THEM and assure them no, I’m not going to drive Stewie into the Intracoastal and meet a watery end. Don’t make me reassure you when I’m the one who’s spinning out. Give ME some hope that the job market really isn’t abysmal, eh?

A friend who used to work with me a lonnnngggg time ago reached out on one of the social media thingies and said she always wondered why I stayed. Too smart for all that, she said. I laughed. I said I stayed because we had amazing people like you hidden in the ranks. It was easy to be a leader when you had people who actually cared about your, and the company’s, success.

I can’t find a job like mine anywhere on the planet. The company that’s supposed to be hiring all of us, well, isn’t. And that was my best bet.

I don’t want to be unemployed. But I don’t want to lose my title or pay, either. That’s why I stayed. Seniority, yo. You get really good at your craft in a niche industry. What happens when you have such specialized skills that they just don’t translate directly anywhere else?

Basically I achieved my dream. So when folks tell me to dream big, well. I set that bar and I met it already.

Look, I’ve been worried about losing this job for six years. I figured it would be my longest-running boss to toss me. He never seemed to “take” to me. And I wasn’t planning to stay anyway. Just wanted to leave for the right thing.

God knows I’ve had offers. Just didn’t hear the right one over the years. Now I’m left to wonder do I go crawling back … or do I dream something up that is completely different — and could completely suck in its own special way?

How do you dream when that’s your mindset? (A little help here, please …)

What the everloving fuck?

November 9th, 2017, 7:40 PM by Goddess

I worked 80-plus hours a week for five years.

Trump still has a job and I don’t.

Whose pussy do I have to grab to get a fair shake in this stupid world?

The hits just keep on coming

October 22nd, 2017, 12:17 PM by Goddess

Sia’s name came up this week.

Well not by name, per se. But I heard the name of the editor who boarded the flight out of Vancouver just moments before she collapsed. The guy who assumed she made the flight … who got a call from their publisher in the connecting city to ask where she was … who assured him that she HAD to have made the flight because she was RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Who inadvertently provided temporary relief that didn’t last long at all.

His name coming up rattled me to the core. I said editing him probably contributed to the sudden cardiac event that took her from us. And another person in the room confirmed that his raw copy was truly a sight to behold, as it somehow went live in his new gig and it was … let’s just say breathtaking.

An opportunity to work with this guy is on the table. I had to ask who his editor will be. Since, you know, I would like to survive this all somehow.

Anyway, I got to thinking about Sia. Whether we’d still even be friends. She had an opportunity to move back to Baltimore. An opportunity that they mercilessly botched and, from what I’m told, resulted in her having a lesser title and pay after they’d raised both.

If you know my industry, you don’t have any surprise left in you. A world of hurt for the good people affected, yes. But it’s been a long time since my jaw dropped about anything.

But after “Lisa VanderPump” left, I would have called her. Call her like I hadn’t been calling her because she worked for LVP’s BFF.

I didn’t want LVP to catch wind how very much I’d had it and wanted an escape route. So I didn’t tell *MY* BFF, who maybe could have helped me or at least talked me off the damn ledge when I needed it.

Just like she hid the bullshit demotion from me and I had to hear about it at her memorial.

How’s that for how fucked-up things were?

Now I can run for any hills I want. Of course, without her up in B’more, I really don’t have any incentive to make our collective dream come true of working together again. There’s no dream left to fulfill.

I’d say “funny how things turn out.” But I’m not laughing.

You’d think I’d be accustomed to missing my friend by now. Since I’ve been doing it for probably two years before she died anyway.