Caterwauling

I saw a post that made me think.

Loitering is illegal in the U.S.

Nowhere else.

What is loitering? It’s a broad definition so bozos like DeSantis can decide you are trespassing and have you shot on sight.

It doesn’t just infringe on our right to peacefully assemble, though you see what they do to us when we do that. (Pretti/Good/et al)

But in Europe and everywhere else, people hang out in town squares, church steps, you name it.

They have community. They know each other. The destination, as it were, is simply “out of the house.”

I was looking at my budget. It’s … a mess.

That’s because I schedule outings. Like today. I have to throw some gutchies into a bag because I got in an accident the last time I came home from this place.

Because I was so tired and it’s not like you can pull over on the side of 95 or in a goddamned parking lot to rest your eyes.

I am not saying anything original. It’s that you have to pay to be anywhere. To park. To consume. To prove your right to exist in that space.

As the post explained right up front, we’ve outlawed the right to just exist.

So we’re always on the move when we’re not at home. But where are we even going?

As my family would snark when someone asked where we were going, “Nowhere fast.”

In other words, we’re going nowhere and we’re doing it in a hurry.

Like when you’d ask my grandfather the time? “A quart of milk.”

A guy at work asked where I get my sense of humor. How do I even explain these people I am descended from.

I’m so grateful for them, though, for giving me the words to express my outrage and the space to do just that.

Anyway I’ve spent the last two (five) years monetizing, optimizing or otherwise killing time indoors so I don’t have to explain my existence to anyone outside.

But today’s journey is pretty light on an agenda.

I’m going to meet my favorite president’s wife.

I’m going to go to the garden outside my mom’s hospital window to sit on my fat ass and watch the butterflies.

And maybe I’ll try to get a visitor’s pass to go to the cafeteria, as I really miss the nights we’d “split a sandwich” — or the cauliflower pizza or the sticky wings — and try not to be disappointed that I probably won’t even get past security.

It’s OK. The sushi place inside the hospital exists down the street from it as well.

I have a few other cheap ideas. But honestly, the lower the key, the happier Goddess will be.

I read that if you doomscrolling’s 3-4 hours a day after work, that’s comparable to smoking taking 10 years off your life.

So if I’ve spent 10 years doomscrolling, theoretically I could have just canceled the internet and smoked instead.

I remember when I was a smoker, I joked that I would rather have taken the 10 years off my life in the middle. Like, skip the 30s and add it at the end.

Seems we’re all doing just that.

I’m thrilled to say my readership is now near zero.

Thank Christ my superfans seem to have moved on.

Here’s hoping I have my safe space back.

Which is what I’m struggling with right now.

My friend who thought I was an anti-Semite over some stupid meme I don’t even remember is back.

I’ve never been de-friended and sent that person a friend request.

But she, after I de-friended her, just sent me a friend request.

My engagement is down on socials, too, since Zuck and Elon promote Nazis and squelch the rest of us.

But, I have “lost” 600-some friends since the fat fascist’s first term. I’m good.

Also, of late all she really did was write “fuck trump” under all my posts. A sentiment near and dear to my heart, of course. But not exactly intellectual discourse.

Honestly, she reminded me of my mom’s friends who used to post comments on all my content. (And ignore mom’s posts completely.)

Mom would get SO mad at their illiterate shit. She told me to block her friends, and I did.

Now, I sit here staring at this new friend request.

Like, I never had a problem with her. I just needed her to quit posting on all my content when I wasn’t done being annoyed.

It’s not like I can tell her what’s going on at the company. Which is still my primary source of entertainment.

Anyway, I know I’ve made five molehills out of a molehill.

I just know that I’m not fascinating enough for all this attention.

And yes I need friends. But … I dunno … maybe new ones?

As I lay awake through four hours of fire alarms last night, I watched “Big Hero 6” (I love Baymax!) and got to thinking.

For me being an editor since I was 16, I am quite unedited.

Like, I polish up every piece of content that comes my way. I like to think I help the writers present their best selves to the world.

But when it has come to me, I’ve always just vomited out my thoughts, as I’ve had them.

Which, as I’ve said in these pages, has gotten me into trouble during meetings. It’s gotten me into trouble as recently as yesterday, as I just do me and ask forgiveness later.

But I also think about the stuff I just “don’t wanna” do. And the lengths I go to, to avoid it.

I truly will clean my house before I write performance reviews or work on a newsletter that goes out in my boss’ name.

I would rather clean up cat vomit than do my taxes or return a shitty online purchase.

And I have no ability to pretend otherwise.

Like, I think of how mom always said I needed to learn to flirt to catch a man. Or how HR directors have wanted me to maybe just not talk about my politics or whatever.

Then I have MAGA types coming to me with their MAGA shit. And I DO edit myself to some extent. Like that’s cute, did you want my actual opinion or is that y’alls thing, to remind us that you’re in power?

Like the whole Spencer Pratt thing.

The fact that I have to think about that weird ass crystal collecting former liberal reality star turned MAGA which got him an endorsement from the King of the Pedophiles.

The fact that this asshole was so mad that his (uninsured) house burned down so he had to force Heidi’s music on us (uh, no) and now he’s foisted HIMSELF on us with a mayoral campaign. For what, money?

Trust fund baby has been living just fine. But he’s using rivers of AI to create ads, whilst complaining there was no water to put out the fire at his house.

Like do you people even hear yourselves?

The only joy I take is that he campaigned in Beverly Hills and other places outside LA, and then all these maga morons show up to vote without knowing they can’t vote in LA.

Yet that stupid fucking party says it’s MY party that’s finding ways to vote illegally.

Bitch, if I COULD vote on behalf of my dead mother and myself in LA, I’d vote YET AGAIN for the overqualified black woman (Karen Bass) …

And not the narcissistic abusive ex-liberal who figured out that the world’s stupidest people will vote for him if he goes up against her.

This is why I’ve been in my “hermit year” for five years.

You really want my unedited opinions? I think I am doing a service to everyone by trying to keep them to myself over here.

And honestly while I have more peace when I am not sharing my unedited thoughts, fuck it — if I gotta hear all y’alls, maybe y’all should hear … really hear … mine too.

In any event, when I watched Handmaid’s Tale, I always identified with June’s mom. The one sent off to the nuclear waste pits to die for being mouthy.

Like, they’re going to crucify us for having — and stating — our opinion.

“What if I roll the stone away?
They’re gonna crucify me anyway”

It’s just wild that they’re all out there like oh liberals think we’re dumb … while they judge us for using logic and reason to come up with conclusions that run counter to theirs.

Anyway, I should probably edit this or myself a lot more, I guess. I just figure we only get so many years on this planet. We follow laws and rules and obey signs. We spend our days working when we should be out in the sun but can’t afford to do that.

So let us have our thoughts and the way we want to express them. It’s literally the only thing that’s ours.

God knows our healthcare choices aren’t ours, nor access to said healthcare in many cases, thanks to reality stars-turned-politicians going back to Republican Jesus Ronnie.

I’d rather do my taxes than see sucky Spencer’s AI videos to prove I’m open-minded to someone who will crucify me anyway for being a “libturd.”

I spent the entire day on the phone yesterday giving performance reviews.

Even those who aren’t required to have one due to contract status.

Overall, I think I gave fair grades. My one staffer even wanted to frame something I wrote. (It was rather hilariously true.)

I’m just glad that my people don’t need to go take a break until their eyes can focus again.

They all hung up knowing their biggest fan is always going to be their boss.

Five stars to me, is all I gotta say, for achieving that.

Like I told one of them, for our customers, you have become the advocate you needed five years ago. I recognize that as someone who had to become my own advocate so I could advocate for my people.

She beamed.

I got to thinking about how I don’t have my mom here to remind me how awesome her baby is.

How she could override even the sharpest, and occasionally even accurate, criticism.

And how lucky I am to STILL have her voice in my head.

And since my people are going to have MY voice in THEIR heads …

I want them to hear the words — and yes, the tough ones too — with the love that I intended.

Even the tough stuff gets received. Another said, “You could bark at me and it would be completely understandable. You don’t. But even if you did, I would be like yeah I get it.”

I think that’s where I am with everything. I know where I fell short. But if the short grade is applied somewhere else, I’m not going to argue.

Like I got an average customer service score. Fine. I can always do better.

But someone reminded me of the customer avatars I drew up — with actual photos from an event — and how she loved that.

Which I forgot about because a louder voice in my head hated it.

So maybe that got me a 3 but someone else would have given me a 4.

And honestly, I’m OK with that.

Now, I warned my people the danger with 4s is they can only go down or stay the same. So, with great marks comes great responsibility.

No one knows better than me, is what I left unsaid, what happens when you go from working 14 hour days to giving what you can, when you can.

And it’s been nice not having that pressure personally for the past two years.

My friend who reminded me “Whose” I am said he thinks I’ve got great things in store this year and he can’t wait to see what I do when I find my passion again.

Same, brother. Same.

Got to talking with a friend today about a very awful event.

Another friend unalived herself a few years back. I was in shock.

I got the news just after I told 10 people that day was their last day. (Employed, not on earth)

What prompted me to revisit that awful hell today?

My friend today was saying that she carries insane guilt for laying off someone and then they unalived themselves shortly after.

Like, it was hard enough to tell her staff that she’d done the layoff. But then to call with THAT news …

And I was triggered.

I’ve never spoken about this otherwise, but that’s why my friend died.

She lost a beloved job. Couldn’t replace it. Couldn’t find much of anything, really.

Depression took hold. She picked her exit.

I got the call when someone went through her search history and saw that I was in it.

Back then, I learned a valuable lesson about how to communicate with my superior.

I brought up how affected I was by the layoffs. How all these people had plans and I’ve altered their economic destines.

How sick I felt that my friend killed herself over a layoff.

The reaction wasn’t what I expected. Which was basically that I used the phrase “I don’t care” about businesses when people are hurting. Therefore, I am not a team player.

I realized oh shit he thinks I’m a liability now.

Like, I’m not a snowflake who needs a safe space. But I let my people use their 1:1 time to say whatever they want so we can fix the problem and move on from it.

I clearly have to either call Kelly or keep it to myself now that my mom’s dead.

So, my performance review anxiety predates 2024 when my mom was dying five feet away. (It was one year earlier that I lost that friend.)

Our communication has … increased in frequency.

But it goes better when I’m in a state of stasis. Which I usually am anyway.

I just let a couple situations get me emotional.

Who do I think I am, the s(h)itting president?

I have seven easy tasks that have been haunting me all week.

And here we are on this Sunday night, finally with no distractions … and I am still like fuck it, I’d rather clean.

Narrator: No I am not cleaning.

I did take a few moments to talk with my Tarot cards about it.

For fun, I asked where I can get some AI bro money to buy a house in San Fran (theoretically) like everyone else is.

I got the nostalgia card (Six of Cups).

Maybe an inheritance, maybe an old investment or two, maybe I have something valuable I can part with for cash.

Hmm.

I did some meditating on what I really want.

And honestly? It popped into my head before I even completed the question.

I want a month off.

Not to travel. Not even staycation. A month to not try to write for people who don’t write their own newsletters. A month to just clean and organize my house.

And if I somehow do that early, then sit home and enjoy it. Read a book. Who cares.

I asked what would motivate me. Knight of Cups. Fast love. So … getting my space to the point where it will welcome friends and others.

What’s blocking me? Hermit. Loving the solitude. Not wanting to exchange it for whatever weird shit is in half of the Seven of Cups.

I asked for a quick career reading and not shockingly it’s the Four of Swords. Self-induced stress.

So I said what if I do learn how to do a new skill where I’m at, does it even matter.

Four of wands. Wedding. Stability. Belonging. Harmony. Maybe since I am talking finances, a pooling of resources. (Maybe take a roommate if not a groommate.)

One of my more interesting readings. I shuffled after each question, which I never really do.

Here’s hoping that inheritance comes through.

I do have one in the works. It’s not big. But Grampy had a very tiny asset tied up and it’s taken me 20-odd years to try to un-tie it.

That’s so my family, though. They struggled and starved and “did without,” but

* My Uncle Stan gave me a check to help me get started with college.

* My Gram handed me $40 out of every $200 social security check she received. And she insisted that I have a couple of good gold pieces (jewelry) so I’d never be broke.

* Grampy collected some artifacts in Nazi Germany that I should get appraised if everyone I know in the collectibles industry wasn’t a damn crook. And he always insisted I get a cut of his annual clothing allowance for school clothes.

* Mom hid money all over the house and I ended up with a nice travel budget. At least, it covered two Eras Tour jaunts (Miami and NOLA). She used to leave a $50 under the mat for gas, too, after Gram was gone.

That’s not to discount other generosity shown to me along the way.

* My friend Gail bought me a gold necklace and an Etienne Aigner bag so I could fit in at fancy work events.

* And my cousin Carole, while she got tired of being generous (of her own choosing to do so) was the reason I had a roof over my head for several months. Along with other nice things she did along the way. Again, unasked.

* Even Jean, who gave me a computer for school. Though my mom had to kiss her ass for 10 years for it, after my grandfather had to kiss her ass for 10 years before that. But still. I benefited from my family’s sacrifices.

So I have no business hoping for an inheritance in any way.

But, you know, my family was so kind that they would be joyful that decisions they made paid off for me.

I do think they’d look at me now and say look at how our investment paid off.

Kelly recommended a taco place and a boba place.

I plugged them into my GPS and had to laugh at the location.

Right by the old office. In the very same spot where myself and (redacted) snuck off many a morning for breakfast.

As soon as I sat at the bar, I saw they had Fat Heads’ Bramble Berry beer.

Mom and I went to Fat Heads quite often when they opened up in ’92 or ’93. And I got to sneak back there when I saw Taylor Swift in Pittsburgh in 2023.

Anyway that was a nice moment, to raise a cheers to Mom with our beer.

But then! They started playing Celeste’s “Stop This Flame.”

Mom LOVED that song. It was in “Sex/Life” and it played while Billie was running through the streets of Soho to Brad’s apartment.

I got to Soho last summer. Not that easy to run those streets. But I hope that Momma got to do it finally.

Anyway, what are the odds I was drinking her beer and listening to her song at the same time? And in a spot where I spent many happy days of my own?

Well this slaps.

Insane AITA post on Reddit about a woman who paid for her sister’s wedding, the sister opened up a credit line in her name without alerting her to pay for more wedding shit, and OP canceled it all after being disinvited.

I was already starting to think boy does this sound like work when I hit this comment:

“This may be fiction based on a real letter, but it’s so true. You’re fine as long as you are an ATM and doormat, but the second you stop, you’re the bad guy.

“It’s also the same in the workplace. The guy who is always there, always does his job, never drops the ball, never makes mistakes, covers others’ work when asked, gives up time to stay late or come early when needed gets called ‘not a team player’ the first time they cannot cover for somebody.”

I thought about something Kelly said, over some average grades I got on being “for the team” and “for the customer.”

She said you’d walk through fire for your team and anyone is an idiot who doesn’t know that. And you provide more customer support than most.

I said well yeah I’ll agree with the first part. And possibly the second but I can definitely do more.

But really … now that I don’t work 14-hour days to support my mom and me … it’s noticed.

I missed mom’s whole life. She sat in this house all day, all week, alone. I had the car. I never came home to those nice dinners she had on the table at 6:30.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO BE HOME AT SIX FUCKING THIRTY.

Especially after leaving at like 6 or 7 A fucking M.

So yeah, once you give less … which really just means you’re giving more to YOURSELF … you get downgraded/downvoted.

The good news is I’ve left behind the version of me who would put in an extra hour a day in hopes of earning more respect or at least catching up.

I’m so sorry, Momma. I stayed employed and you stayed lonely. That’s why I don’t “lock in” … why I can’t lock in even when i want to. When all I want to do is just check out.

“Think of all the time
I’ll have with you
When I don’t wake up on my own.
Wake up on my own.
Held close all the time.
Because I’m half of you.”

I got to talking with an industry friend about my performance review.

She was pissed off at a few things.

She is also 100% honest with me when I am wrong, so when she was like “Bro that’s bullshit, what’s that guy’s number so I can introduce him to you?” I felt vindicated.

As for my supposedly improved attitude, she said you should have just said yeah my mom died five days after my last review; I’m a little less fucking stressed now.

Also, literally she and I and another of our friends could run not just the company but the entire industry if anyone would let us.

I mean, not in our current states. But, it’s just so funny to be told they want ideas — when the very thing that I got an “attitude” about was not being consulted on the product I would spend the next 2 years WRITING.

I wonder if it went unsaid that I’ve not been evil to Don’t Treadmill on Me.

Look, she’s still annoying but since she quit bitching at me so hard for a year and a half that I hung up on her every time, we’re fine.

I swear she got some HRT in her system.

Whatever the case, it’s a damn shame that I have been mostly kind for years and yet *I* get branded as having the attitude.

It’s times like this I wonder if I were skinny … if I had dangly bits … if I were a Republican … because I very much feel like they would make a difference.

My friend was sort of perplexed at my action plan for the year.

Then she said you know what, you should totally learn the open position’s skills. And promote Jim to your job.

After it was out of her mouth, she paused. “Or is that other job a ‘dangly bits’ one and you have the girly job so maybe you promote Jim to that other job someday?”

I am not intimating any of this is true. Just an interesting theory.

Something to think about between planning trips. You know, the only thing no one complains about since I travel by myself for the most part.

I give me a 4 out of 4, fuck everyone else!

A favorite tarot reader said Geminis are completing a cycle.

They’ve given all they can and they’re ready to reach the next level of their healing.

Also she asked the cards what could be blocking us.

I don’t agree but it’s an interesting theory.

And all the OTHER cards point to healing and prosperity on the other side.

We got Relocation. Death and Rebirth. Creativity. Ten of Pentacles. The World.

Whether that’s a new job, a new home, a new trip, even a new role at an old job … you have overstayed your welcome where you are.

Divine timing will reveal a new path.

And you are going to move forward or otherwise BE moved forward.

I’m hoping that’s to Japan.