Caterwauling

Pilfered from the incredible GrooveBunny:

1. Song that sounds like happy feels:
That’s a tough one. I might rephrase it to note that my “functional” songs (e.g., the songs I can listen to and turn my thought process around) are “Maybe it was Memphis” by Pam Tillis and “Elsewhere” by Sarah McLachlan.

I know a happy song (for me). “Let Go” by Frou Frou (from the “Garden State” soundtrack).

2. Earliest memory:
I remember listening to the Steve Miller band when I was a wee lass. My mom and evil stepfather and I were coming back from a trip to Virginia Beach (I might’ve been 5 or 6), and I was rocking out in the backseat to “The Joker.”

3. Last CD you bought:
Lindsay Lohan (*ducks*)

4. Reminds you of school:

Elementary School
Oh good lord. Between the entire “Grease 2” soundtrack that my friends and I would sit on the playground and sing at the top of our lungs, I had the pleasure of listening to what is now called classic rock (which I still love) and country/R&B. Sing it with me: “You can eat crackers in my bed anytime, baby!” (Barbara Mandrell. Oh the shame of it all. And I still love it!)

I took dance classes then, and we always danced to Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer” album. My first albums were Prince’s “Purple Rain” and whatever Blondie released that year. Heh. And was Pat Benatar big back then? I totally dug “Love is a Battlefield” and “We Belong.”

I still listen to “The Rainbow Connection” by my pal Kermit the Frog — I sing that song to my friend’s little girl all the time.

Middle School
Ah, the birth of hair metal. BON JOVI, BABY!!!! And Motley Crue and a whole slew of others. This phase carried on into high school. Middle school also brought Madonna — I think the defining song of my middle school experience was probably “Borderline.”

High School
More hair metal. But, alas, I did discover Ani DiFranco, k.d. lang, Indigo Girls and Melissa Etheridge. I remember “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover” by Sophie B. Hawkins being one of my all-time favorites — it had seemed so scandalous and sexy at the time.

College
I seem to remember playing on a loop “Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad” by Def Leppard. (Remember that, J? The entire 18th floor of Point Park College hated me!) Alas, the alternative rock movement broke out and hair metal died during my first semester. Although I clung tightly to Bon Jovi CDs (having traded in my cassettes for CDs), I did eventually buy into alternative rock (grudgingly) and still love it today.

This is going to sound weird, but Paul Simon’s “Slip Sliding Away” reminds me of college. I met a guy at a bar one night, and we made out in his car to that song. Heh. I miss those days!

I also have to bring the Indigo Girls back into this one — my friend Lisa and I used to sit up for days at a time, drinking tea and listening to the “Rites of Passage” CD.

And, although I try to forget it, the early- to mid-’90s dance revolution still makes me nostalgic. “Plastic Dreams” by Jaydee, anyone? 🙂

5. Total music files on your computer:
My beloved Mac has loads of memory, and upward of 10 gigs are sound files. This comes after I’ve deleted a shitload, too!

6. For listening to repeatedly when depressed:
John Mellencamp and Bon Jovi — I love that blue-collar “every day is a struggle” kind of vibe. When I’m really depressed, I also go for Milk Inc. and A Girl Named Eddy. And Tara MacLean wins this round, hands down — my favorite is “Jericho.”

7. Sounds british, but isn’t:
NOT a fan of Brit rock. Would Madonna be an honorary mention? 😀

8. Tune you love, band you hate:
Dave Matthews Band makes me cringe. I swear he sounds like he’s gurgling a turd. But, alas, when I hear “Crash Into Me” or “Crush” or “The Space Between,” I often have to change my underwear, I love it so.

9. A favorite from the past that took ages to track down:
I recently tracked down a lot of songs from my youth for my mom. But for me, I was killing myself to get a copy of Melissa Etheridge’s cover of “The Weakness in Me.” I had the Joan Armatrading version (who didn’t?) but Melissa’s was limited-edition and I looked for it for two years. I finally got it a couple of months ago and listen to it religiously.

I also had to get “Freak Me” by Silk and “Let’s Get it On Tonight” by Montell Jordan. Sex-ay!

10. Bought the album for one good song:
Oh, I always do that. First one of about 10,000 that comes to mind is “Bother” from Stone Sour’s album. I ripped “Bother” to iTunes and shelved the CD, where it has collected dust for at least the last year and a half.

11. Worst Song to Get Stuck in your Head:
Ugh. Sheryl Crow, “All I Wanna Do.” GAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

On iTunes: Martina McBride, “Whatever You Say”

Treated myself to a showing of “The Wedding Date” this afternoon. Loved it. OMG, I want to see it about four thousand more times, but alas, I’ve blown the entertainment budget for the month. 😉

OK, when did Dermot Mulroney get so freaking hot? And I don’t know if that was, in fact, his backside that we gals in the packed audience were happily admiring or if it belonged to a stand-in, but whatever. Yum!

Anyway, I want to append to my earlier post on “what a girl wants.” This couple in front of me at the concession stand irritated the hell out of me because they were mauling each other (look, I’m a fan of PDA, but fucking pay for your shit so that the other 200 of us in line can have a chance of making it to our movie on time, mmmkay?). The guy bought one small drink and one hot dog for the two of them to share. And maybe she’s one of those girls who won’t eat in front of a date, but You. Cheap. Bastard. The movie rule is to get at least a large drink if you’re going to force her to share with you — after all, it’s only another 50 cents! And for cripes’ sake, buy her her own fucking hot dog. Judging from the fact that your tight pants revealed a camel toe (this on a guy!), give the girl a little bit of meat in any way you can, even if that means springing for the $5 hot dog. Sheesh. Once the new-boyfriend shine wears off (and, in your case, I suspect that will happen pretty quickly), she’s going to find somebody who can fill her up … in both ways. 😀

On iTunes: Three Doors Down, “Let Me Go”

What I need right now to liven up this lackluster existence of mine is a good, old-fashioned date. The type where you actually want to put on a cute outfit and take extra care with your cosmetics because you will be taken somewhere that has neither a bed nor a keg within its walls.

I want someone to pick me up in a nice, clean car where I don’t have to maneuver my sitting position to accommodate three weeks’ worth of junk mail and fast-food remnants and pray that my nice outfit doesn’t get some kind of random stain on it from the chaos upon which I am forced to sit. I want someone to open the car door for me and be genuinely excited to see me. And, even more importantly, I want someone to treat me to dinner … treat being the important word here.

Look, I’m no gold-digger, but I’ve been on enough miserable dates where I had to pay for my share or, in the case of some cheap bastards, the whole bill. Until there truly is lame-date insurance, and until I am back on my feet financially (seeing as though the much-anticipated first paycheck has been divvied among as many creditors as I could manage), having someone truly want to treat me to a decent meal would show me that they care. Really, guys, it doesn’t take much. If we have subsequent dates, I will be happy to go Dutch, but if you don’t invest in a freaking salad for me at the outset, well, then you really don’t want fellatio when the time comes. Plain and simple. Got it?

Anyway, back to my simple wish. I want to have a tasty meal that neither involves ramen nor whatever I managed to scrape from the back of the cupboards. I want conversation and light flirtation. I don’t want to go home right away, because I have seen plenty of those walls to last me a lifetime. I’d love a movie or anything that involves just being near someone.

What I don’t want is the “How is this date going to end?” dread. I want touching and kissing and whatever other fun stuff feels right at the time, but I only need enough to help me get started in building my confidence back. I am too fragile right now to do a walk of shame — or, worse, have someone do one away from me — which, sadly, is always what it ends up being.

I’m going to give you guys a secret. Know how you’re always whining that we girls are never in the mood? It’s because we feel ashamed of something about ourselves — or, more likely, we’re ashamed about everything. We know you’re not as conscious of our bodies as we are, but we can’t get out of our own heads. And, trust me, we’re in the mood. We always are, and many times we’re more revved up than you. But between our own issues and fearing that you’re going to be jackhammering away without even realizing that we’re there, well, does a lot to kill our moods. Another point to remember: we know that guys fall in love before sex and girls fall in love afterward. We want to make sure you might actually give a crap about us before we let you inside (literally). And I’ll give you a personal secret: I used to be so displeased with myself that I’d “do” it just to prove to myself that I could get over myself. I remember being called the “One Night Stand Queen” on more than one occasion — it’s like I had a carnal crusade going on, trying to prove to myself and others that I wasn’t hung up on myself. And you know what that got me? Nothing. No relationships, no subsequent dates (in many cases) and, especially, no pride in my actions.

I don’t want that. I want to be dropped off at home with tingling lips (of both varieties, with any luck!) before I snuggle into bed, knowing that sweet dreams … and, maybe, even the promise of something even more … await.

I so very much want a date for Valentine’s Day weekend. I was never this ridiculously girly before — I’ve never cared either way about this particular greeting card holiday. But, this year, I want to be the center of someone’s attention and have it, for a few hours, not be an illusion. I need something to which I can look forward. So, do you know anybody who would be willing to — or, can — put up with me for an evening? 😉

On iTunes: Switchfoot, “Meant to Live”

To hijack a phrase from the lovely Amalah, who, in fact, has reasons to squee!

Anyway, after four days of fucking it up, I figured out the 8B exit off 395 this morning. Squee! Heh. Yesterday I ended up in Rosslyn. Today I actually ran out of other options and just HAD to go the right way.

I amused myself by raising my Dave & Buster’s travel coffee mug and clinking it in the rearview mirror. At which time I laughed and laughed at myself, so hard that I snarfed coffee out my nose and all over the steering wheel. Hah. Unbridled joy is a blessed thing, although perhaps as you are merging into traffic on the GW, it’s not appropriate to have emotional outbursts. I hope I remember the route again on Monday!

I left just before 8 a.m. and still got here at a reasonable time. Sure beats leaving the house by 7:14 a.m. and sitting in traffic. Admittedly, traffic was mildly stopped up, but it was the kind that could be rectified with a cup of coffee as opposed to the usual backup that requires a Fleet enema to flush out the unwanted cars.

In any event, I did find an outfit (mostly dressy) but opted for a white vinyl bracelet with gromets and black lace. A remnant of my blink-and-you’ve-missed-it goth phase, it at least livens me up a bit. Ugh. I’ve become a suit! I’m one of them! Gah! Heh. At least I didn’t succumb to the clutches of becoming a vegetable. 😉

On iTunes: Jimmy Eat World, “Serious”

I’m running sooooo freaking late. Why? It’s casual Friday. How does that differ from the rest of the week? Not at all, in my book. But I have been in my walk-in closet (tripping over about seven tubs of clothes sitting outside the closet) and realize that I. Have. Nothing. To. Wear. Maybe it means I can go braless? Because that would be fun. It would take away some of the pain of wearing pantyhose and heels!

Oh, how I long to put on a blazer and a pair of jeans. *swoon* Life was so easy in that respect, once upon a time. …

On iTunes: Crossfade, “So Far Away”

I am pleased to say it was a Shrub-free evening in the Goddess Dawn hacienda last evening. I did chat with my grandfather, though, and while sometimes you wonder where his mind is, other times you know it’s right where it’s supposed to be. He wondered why on earth we are reserving billions of dollars for Iraq when there are uninsured, unemployed and destitute people right here in America that the government continually thumbs its nose at. And, for that matter, we couldn’t understand why we have a foundation that’s raking in money for tsunami aid but, again, we will step over our fellow Americans’ lifeless bodies as they lay starving and with their maladies untreated without so much as a backward glance.

On iTunes: Breaking Benjamin, “Broken Soul”

Warning: this one’s gonna be all over the damn place. Peruse at your own risk!

SOTU
The Shrub of the Union is on every channel tonight. I think those of us without cable who have no shows we WANT to watch, particularly if we voted for the better candidate (i.e., Kerry), should get a free movie ticket instead (I’ll take one for the “Wedding Date,” thanks!). Luckily, “Jack & Bobby” has moved to Wednesday, and it will be on in the same time slot. It’s a viable option, of course, because tonight’s theme is fictional presidential rhetoric and all. 😉

‘Coffee Talk’
The I-270 Spur — is it a spur or is it a thorn? Because I root for thorn … as in, thorn in my ass, which I sit on way too much. However, my backside is sufficiently padded, which does come in handy when you sit on the spur for an hour like I did last night. We’re talking a mile-long stretch of road, BTW. In any event, I had a spectacularly good commute tonight, as Cool Boss booted me out early and I sailed home in less than 40 minutes.

But this 8B exit off 395-N, now that’s priceless. Twice I’ve accidentally gone across Memorial Bridge into D.C., and I’ve gone the wrong way on the GW once. Yet, despite the perennial screw-ups, I’ve never gotten to my destination faster! Perhaps tomorrow I will not fuck up. But, then again, this is me we’re discussing, y’know?

Swan dive
Do you ever get nuts by association? I mean, commute-wise. We kind of hit a small snarl on the GW under the Key Bridge tonight because we were all rubbernecking. On the other side (closest to the river), there were cop cars and ambulances and a big fire truck because someone had gone up and over the embankment and a red four-door car was teetering toward the river. The hood was up and looked crunched, and I wondered if they had hit someone into going over into the frigid Potomac. *shudder* I know I way exceed the 40- to 50-mph speed limit, flying around those dangerous bends like I don’t notice the thousand-foot drops, and it creeped me the fuck out enough that I stayed below 70 mph and rubbed my crystal (my worry stone of choice) for the rest of the drive home. Ugh.

Nuts in general
My perfectionist ways are probably going to be the death of me, if my poor driving doesn’t beat it to the punch. 😉 I am a walking dichotomy, though, of “things must be just so” versus “how do these thoughts come out of my head unfiltered?” I promised myself that, at the Dream Job (to borrow a phrase from the lovely Helen, I’d not reveal too much of myself so as not to let the masses know that I can be a raving lunatic sometimes. But, alas, I am so comfortable and snug and happy in my long-deserved phenomenal environment that I just find the oddest things popping out at the most random moments. For instance, I overheard myself saying out loud yesterday that I’d lost my faith in myself. YOU DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT, DAWN! People tend to realize you’re psycho and not give you promotions and good assignments and stuff like that. Must learn to zip lip, although I understand I was hired just as much on “organizational fit” (e.g., personality) as experience and capability. Oh, the thoughts that run through my head when I’m overly caffeinated. 🙂

Fear
On the other hand, I’ve earned my right to lose my faith in myself. Not that I enjoy operating at a deficiency, but it is what has been wrong with me for a long time, truth be told. I was telling someone that I’ve lost my spark — I’ve stopped putting myself “out there.” I quit wanting to be noticed, in exchange for rationing my energy to just keep me hanging on, albeit barely. I forget what it’s like to light up a room or to feel like I’ve mattered. I miss being able to shine. I know I wasn’t meant to crawl in a corner and go unnoticed, but it’s going to take some time before I have my confidence back.

Because I was dangerously close to the “end of the world” — my world, anyway — any movement that is not in the opposite direction seems like a setback.

I know I’m going to screw up again and again till my life is right (and, considering that it never really was, I have no point of comparison). But, when one area of your life is uncertain, you need to have other areas that are going well or, at least, bearably. And, when you’re feeling scared because you’re not fluent in the one domain that you have, well, it’s difficult to feel like your footing is secure and that a stiff breeze won’t knock you straight back to that edge and, this time, blow you over it.

Fear on top of fear
Thanks to those of you who have been asking about my grandfather. The diagnoses have been one after the other. Suffice it to say, Veteran’s Hospitals in Pittsburgh SUCK and it took him finally going to a real hospital to find out that, on top of everything else, it looks like he’s got cancer, too. It’s surreal right now for all of us, especially since he told my mom not to tell me, so I can’t even ask him any questions. He told mom that I’ve had way too many burdens recently, so please don’t bother me with his condition.

I know, people get old and get sickly and such. But when you have two members in your family and that’s it, well, you tend to want them around as much as possible. And, you try to forget the guilt that sweeps you up into its greedy arms when you remember how far away you live from them and how infrequently you see them. 🙁 There’s no way the doctors will treat him at his age (79 this month). But this is a result of negligence — he asked for these tests for the past 15 years and the VA told him he was fine without even looking at him. I hope his PCP rots in hell.

Cuffed
On a lighter note, I awakened in the middle of the night to find myself handcuffed. No, I wasn’t fortunate enough to have someone sneak in and chain me to the headboard (not for lack of dreaming about it!). But, I had bracelets on each wrist, and I sleep face-down with my hands under the pillows. Somehow, my cuff bracelet on my right wrist latched onto the continuous bracelet on my left, and I woke up because I couldn’t move. Damn. And here I was hoping I’d attracted a kinky burglar or something! 😀

In any event
I know I promised myself I’d never A)blog at work or B)blog about work, but I am going to break resolution B long enough to say that I’d felt *right* since the first phone interview and continue to believe I’m in the path where I belong. I keep beating myself up because I am just not really grasping the content as quickly as I would like, but I have to remember that I bring my own unique and finely honed set of skills into the picture, and that’s a hell of a solid foundation upon which to build. And, the added bonus is that I am actually getting trained. Yes, trained! Imagine — getting coaching and encouragement. I’m pretty pleased. I still can’t figure out why the universe spent the latter half of 2004 torturing me, but alas, the life jacket has arrived and has the potential to carry me pretty far. w00t!

So long from the Inner Bitch
In closing, I wanted to leave you with an Inner Bitch story. OK, so last night, I was freaking out because I so very much wanted to get on the Beltway — I could see it but just traffic was just not moving. I started swearing and screaming and flailing my arms, and let it be known that it’s not like I have kids to pick up or soccer events to attend or, hell, sausages to hide or anything else that requires me being somewhere at a particular time. Anyway, a guy in a black truck next to me for practically the whole hour had a good old time laughing at me and watching me lose my shit (heh — he should’ve seen me when I got on 395-S and that bitch was backed up, too!). In any event, it’s not like the Inner Bitch did anything other than provide a fireworks show right where 270 dumps onto 495, but I think she got the vitriol out of her system, because I’ve been rather pleasant to be around ever since!

On iTunes: Green Day, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”

As I typed that headline, I heard Axl Rose wailing within my head. Oh, the agony.

I don’t have much in this world, but something I am desperately trying to acquire is a wee bit more patience. OK, a wee bit minus the more part … I don’t have an iota of patience when it comes to waiting for anything. And that inner bitch of mine? Oh, the rage she exhibits when she has to wait for anything. She does know, though, that waiting for stupid people to trip over the cluestick and get bonked in the head by it, however, is the longest wait of all. …

Last week was a terrible week for commuting (though I did have a splendid commute both coming and going today, thankyouverymuch … minus accidentally ending up on Constitution Avenue, but even that worked out quite peachily because anything beats sitting on 395 North so long that you have a birthday before you make it to work, but I digress).

*takes a breath*

Anywho, after a spectacularly shitty eternity living in traffic last week, I spent practically the whole of Saturday morning waiting in line at the post office. Oh. My. God. The agony, the torture, the cruelty of it all! To spend the whole week wearing out the poor brakes on your vehicle, then to spend hours waiting to mail out some packages via media mail because you’re selling your soul (or, at least, your books) to make ends meet.

In any event, I was 437th in line behind some loony woman. As soon as I got there, four people lined up behind me. Loony Tunes tells me she needs to duck out of line for a moment and asks me to hold her place. I stared at her in stony silence, perturbed but not quite enough to just outright slug her. After she left, I heard myself say, “Well, what the fuck else do I have to do in the meantime?” Whoops.

So she comes back in line a few minutes later. I’d assumed she’d had to grab a form or an envelope, but nada. So we inch up a few times, and she tells me to hold her place again. I said, “Seriously?” but she had gone *poof* before I had the full word out of my mouth. Now, people are really starting to send me evil vibes. But my evil vibes are stronger because my Inner Bitch had had her vitamin that morning and nobody was going to out-bitch her that day.

Loony Tunes comes back and gets in line in front of me again. I had basically been flat-out ignoring her as she came and went because I was in no fucking mood for conversation and I certainly wasn’t in the mood for her shit. I mean, I didn’t want to be standing in line either, you know? I am claustrophobic and agoraphobic and, all-in-all, just ridiculously pissed off to be spending my life waiting.

And, wouldn’t ya know it, Loony has to get out of line again! At this point, her death is imminent. Would you dare ask anyone to hold your place in a line … and three times, to boot?

When she comes back into line, I launch into full assault mode. “Lady, go home and don’t come back till you get your fucking shit together!” At that same moment, she breathes that she has asthma and needed air.

Damn it.

Trumped me.

Fuck.

Anyway, she didn’t dare get out of line again. But she practically crawled up the ass of the person in line in front of her, so either she didn’t need air that badly or she didn’t want to be burned by the fire I was breathing in her direction. 😉

But, alas, apparently my patience is improving, because six months ago, my head would have spun 360 degrees from the pain. Apparently, I am growing, and there may be hope for me acquiring a shred of patience — or, at least, not plotting homicide — one of these days. 😀

On iTunes: The Killers, “Somebody Told Me”

One of the things I miss is having one or more traditions to which to look forward. Or, in this case, I need to adapt an old one so that I can still have it in some form or another.

Last year at this time, I had this great phone network ready for when “American Idol” voting was in progress. On Tuesdays, it involved calls conferring over who was the best and for whom we would be sending text messages en masse to FOX. On Wednesdays, when the results were announced and someone was kicked off, the calls were usually to bemoan the tastes of the idiot teen-agers who voted for whomever they thought was cute instead of the singers with the real talent.

I had two phones, and I’d often have someone on each line, at each ear. There were three people in my phone network. The prior year, it was two. In any event, “AI” season was the one tradition I really had — I would bust out the heated foot bath/spa every Tuesday and paint my toenails afterward. Those were two hours that I was parked on my ass and shutting out the rest of the world to focus on me.

This year, it’s season four of “AI,” and everything is different. One of my phone buddies is now on the West Coast and doesn’t see the show when I do (although we’ve had some midnight calls to discuss other shows, but that means I can’t call and give any spoilers. Rats!). Another — well, we aren’t on each other’s speed dial lists anymore. And the third, well, I’m sure we will be on the horn, even though circumstances have dictated that I pull away for awhile because I don’t socialize when I’m in a funk. But, alas, said funk shall dissipate to allow for bitching about “Idol” contestants. 🙂 Now, to just figure out where I shoved the foot bath, because I am due for a pedicure!

But, it shows how everything changes so quickly. I was thinking about some other people I know. One gets together with a friend and ensures that they see every Oscar-nominated film before the awards ceremony. Another gets together with her girlfriends to wax poetic over the “Miss America” pageant — their dream is to actually attend the event, but for now, they have a spa night and giggle like schoolgirls, dreaming together about what they would do for the talent competition and how they would discuss their plans for achieving world peace. I love that!

Living in D.C. means that you have to be OK with the transience of it all — people come and go; most move away because it’s too expensive, and others fall out of each other’s respective circles for whatever reasons. Perhaps the one longstanding tradition I’ve participated in during the nearly three years that I’ve lived here is to not count on doing the same thing at this time next year with the same people, if at all. Not to say we won’t all catch up on the phone at some point and get caught up on the gossip eventually, but there was something magical about sharing moments that we could always refer to in future conversations and not have to give the whole background for the other person to understand what you were trying to say.

In any event, I hope this year to, among many other things, develop some new traditions with some new people. But, I’ll never forget the joy of spending the old traditions with people who made those traditions worth remembering. 🙂

On iTunes: Howie Day, “Come Lay Down”