Caterwauling

OK, so one of my female friends and I were talking. Just in roundabouts — you know, about men we know in common. More specifically, we were speculating on their, uh, potential prowess. Or wondering about a lack thereof.

Which results in me Never. Being. Able. To. Think. Of. Them. The. Same. Way. Again.

Or, for that matter, looking at them directly. 🙂

So, tell me — I know you have people in your life whom you’ve had *thoughts* about — even if it the passing inkling gave you a terminal case of the heebs. So, tell me (in the comments) who catches your eye and who makes you want to stab your eyes with a pencil.

Your secret’s safe with me (and the blogiverse). C’mon, sidle up and whisper a little somethin’ somethin’ to your favorite confidante. …

On iTunes: Vanessa Daou, “The Long Tunnel of Wanting You”

The stress puppy rides again. 🙂

I wanted to audioblog from the road (read: TWO-HOUR COMMUTE) yesterday morning, but thank your lucky stars that the damned thing hasn’t been working.

Commutes suck worst on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday mornings for me. Seriously, those are the days when your colleagues want to call you and ask if you are aware that it is, in fact, a workday.

Actually, I’ve got to give a hand to Dream Job and many other Washington-area employers — they are wonderfully understanding that it’s not that we want to be living in traffic, but it’s a necessary evil sometimes.

My beef yesterday was with truck drivers and cops. I mean, these truck drivers are the kids in high school you remember who couldn’t find their asses with both hands, yet they are supposed to be keeping these huge semis in their respective lanes. Ugh. I cannot tell you how many times they have drifted over, forcing me in my tiny Matchbox car to swerve and almost kill the person next to me. Good times.

In an even more auspicious start to a normal day, I almost got pulled over yesterday. I get really angry when the cops have pulled someone over and are busy doing their ceremony and Everybody. Slows. Down. Seriously, is the cop going to abandon the poor sap they are harassing and decide to go after you? Heh. Ludicrous!

Well, here’s the deal. They might not abandon said person, but if they’re just about done, they will come after your ass.

Case in point:

I saw someone pulled over on the other side of the GW which, as you know, has a grassy medial strip that we cannot cross. That doesn’t mean the cops can’t. I figured, fuck it, I had been sitting for an hour and a half — this was my chance to go 70 and possibly make it to work, oh, while it was still Tuesday.

That damn cop did a big fat U-Turn and caught up with me. Stayed two cars behind me for the remainder of my time on that road. Son of a bitch. I figured I deserved a ticket and wasn’t too nervous, although I’d much rather pay the phone bill than a federal moving violation fine.

I didn’t get nailed. *whew* But I wanted to pitch a bitch (surprise) about pulling people over during rush hour. We all sit. And sit. And sit some more. I was ready to fling my CD like a frisbee into the Potomac, I was so fucking sick of it by the time I reached my destination. So of course we’re going to take advantage of the time when traffic breaks to haul ass. Particularly with the GW, I’ve experienced additional traffic jams when a cop pulls someone over in the right-hand lane of a two-lane road. Yeah, the treat that is this little bottleneck is beyond compare.

So today, I will remember to have breakfast and to bring coffee. But I’m still hoping for a Prozac dispenser to come standard alongside satellite radio services on the next model year of my car. 🙂

On iTunes: Jewel, “Grey Matter”

Reader Poll Monday, Dawn Standard Time.

During a sporadically rainy-yet-sunshiney drive home tonight, I had the war of the words in my head. Yes, I typed that right — words, not worlds. 🙂

Don’t worry — you don’t need to call me Sybil or anything. I was just concurrently doing about three mental blog posts, although not a blessed one of them is going live. *whew*

But what I will tell you is that I love thunderstorms. Sure, I’m sitting here hoping my computer won’t be struck by lightning and that I won’t lose power (particularly the a/c). But on a more fundamental level, beyond the fact that the smell of rain makes me happy, I know that the storms will wash away the layer of grime on the world and everything will look new, hopeful, clean in the morning.

I’m finding that there is no such thing as a random occurrence anymore. Really. Everything — and I mean everything — is imprinted somewhere, ordained to occur — perhaps conceived in advance in someone’s mind and witnessed/experienced by them or someone close to them.

I have this little hot-pink Post-It Note on my bulletin board at work — I wrote, “Whatever can be intellectualized can be realized.” I don’t know if anybody other than me said it … all I know is that I was wandering around inside my head and realized that my dreams are as good as anybody else’s and that I wanted to externalize them.

I asked someone just a run-of-the-mill question recently — I just wanted to know how they were or what they were up to. The question was almost rhetorical, reflexive in nature. And the other party knew it and asked why I keep asking all the time when I know the answer. And I’d said that I was wondering if the answer might be different that day.

Again, a random, seemingly meaningless conversation — certainly not a memorable one … or was it? I mean, it stuck in my head. I’ve since pondered how I’m always asking questions inside my head — who am I, what am I supposed to be, how can I do my best, how can I sparkle, what am I bringing to this conversation/webpage/existence/relationship.

More importantly, I’ve realized that the answers don’t always have to remain the same. No matter how tough the question.

We get annoyed with little kids when they won’t accept a simple statement of fact or a command. The sky is blue. Do your homework. Girls wear dresses. Boys play with trucks. Stop pulling the cat’s tail. Don’t say bad words. (I heard that last one quite often myself!) And what do kids do? Ask why. Like, repeatedly. “Go to bed.” Why? “Because it’s past your bedtime.” Why? “Because I said so.” Why?

Moral to the story: We can’t always come up with a good enough reason to convince somebody that they can’t have what they want. Yet we so easily write off the things that we truly find ourselves desiring. Instead of asking why we CAN’T have or do something, we justify why we don’t even want to think about it in the first place. How many times have you just wanted to defy all logic and run-not-walk after something you thought might make you happy? What if you KNEW it would make you happy but you saw so many obstacles in your way? Did that deter you? Did you find about 10 justifications to not even let your mind “go there”?

But can you ever really close the door on something you wanted?

In short, does the answer always have to be “no”?

I guess what I’m saying is the thing I need to blog about most is the elephant sitting on the kitchen sink — I am trying very hard to not say it, not think it and not even have it dangling as a possibility. Mama taught me not to want things, so I wouldn’t be disappointed when they didn’t come. But I’d rather have my heart broken than to not even know if there’s anything inside of it.

But this is where I struggle. Sometimes, I have the patience of a saint. If good things come to those who wait, then damn it, I’m a-waitin’. There’s something thrilling about getting little jolts of electicity coursing through your body here and there — for lack of “big” things happening, a series of little inspirations and pleasant meanderings sure do wonders to keep a girl going until something, anything happens.

Other times, don’t even try going 75 mph in front of me on the highway when I want to go 82 — I will loudly inform you where to find your gas pedal and where you might find my foot if you don’t locate it in a timely manner. When my heart is set on something, it’s mine — everyone and everything else be damned. It’s rare that I need to have something “my way,” so when I’m hell-bent on having it, it’s not necessarily a request but, rather, a demand.

I think I’ve mastered the balance between the two mindsets, although it’s usually balancing one extreme with the next rather than exhibiting “just enough” patience, balanced with the “right amount” of aggressiveness. I am patient because it’s unladylike to go full velocity toward things I want when what I really want is for them to come to me. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t start willing them to happen the way I want, either — course of nature be damned.

Not to say that the course of nature isn’t happening as I type, speak, live and breathe. And maybe, the capital “NO” might soften a bit … maybe so far as to become an “OK.” Not now, but someday. Maybe I’m not all I can be and don’t have all that I would really like to have right now, and maybe everything seems ridiculously far out of reach. But I’ve got to keep believing that my “same-old, same-old” answer will become my “worth-the-wait, kept-the-faith” story that I can’t wait to tell again and again to inspire everyone like me who was ever brave enough to dream. …

On iTunes: Melissa Ferrick, “For Once in My Life”

Knick knack paddle whack indeed.

JOKES — WITHOUT THE HUMOR
I was lying in bed this morning, trying to think of something humorous to post — anything to lighten up the mood around here. And while PLENTY of things came to mind, I don’t think you need to hear my take on how size DOES matter and how a spring roll won’t satisfy your appetite when you need a burrito or a king-size candy bar. 😉

Or, the conversation Dave and I had yesterday (before we ate burritos, incidentally) about the consistency of the tapioca in our bubble tea and …

Bah, can’t finish that thought either. 😉

Ahem. Moving on. …

WAS THE UNIVERSE READING OVER MY SHOULDER?
Anywho, I went to my favorite park last night. I’d wanted to go meet some friends at a bar (in Adams Morgan — ugh — PARKING NIGHTMARE), but I’m broke because my two weeks of “Happy Birthday, Dawn” (i.e., with a dearth of presents to open on my so-called special day, I bought my own. A LOT of them. Yay bargain-hunting for the plethora-o-shit I now own!).

So, I hit the park around 8 p.m., soft fleecy gray blanket and long-forgotten pink-and-black diary in-hand. Somewhere around 9:30 p.m., I came up for air because a kind stranger had stopped to talk.

And I didn’t mind it one bit. For once. (I usually get weird people asking me out at this park — I’ve been gone from it for two months for that very reason. But this one was sweet. Articulate. Pleasant.)

And I can have a date out of it, if I’m brave enough to call.

We’ll see.

But I’m thinking about it.*

*(More on this later.)

‘YOU HAVE THE HANDWRITIN’ OF A SERIAL KILLER’
I noticed how my handwriting changed after that. I usually write in upright cursive — I like to pack my journals full, so I keep the messy writing compact. But it didn’t occur to me that it was all in cursive. Why is that, do you think? And when I did return to finish my thought, I kept the same writing style. But then I went off on another subject, and I printed. Neat, upright printing. (I like to print on a slant, usually — in tribute to the calligraphy my grandmother had taught me so many years ago.) I think I do the slanted writing because it’s easier on the page — when I was doing my block printing, I was practically ripping through the page, I was so passionate about the thoughts I was capturing.

I print when I’m passionate. Looking back over the journal, I wrote about not wanting others to feel as bad as I have on some occasions. I also touched upon how I have — or can — let others know that they mean something to this world … to me. I talked about how so few people go above-and-beyond what is asked of them — how they simply show up for dinner at the table of life and go snooze in front of the TV until something else is asked of them.

And I am terrified of ever having anyone make that kind of observation about me although, lately, it’s been true.

IN THE PRESENCE OF GREATNESS
I think a lot of us give 100 percent. We just don’t always give 150%. And, sure, let’s hear the argument that you simply can’t give more than your all. Fine. But let’s assume everyone is giving their full effort to everything (instead of astutely observing that so many people do everything half-assed that we’re already beating them by doing all we think we can).

How do we stand out when we’re in the presence of greatness already? I don’t have the answer. I just know that I always figure out a way.

I think too many of us are initially intimidated by brilliance, but what we need to know is that we were chosen to sit at the same table — that we have just as much right as anyone to learn from the best and to walk beside them and, eventually, take the torch from them and go even further with it.

And so, I had a conversation with the stars last night (no, I wasn’t smoking any herb, thank you!). I know that I can’t replace who and what came before me, and that’s OK. But I can take what they’ve given me and ensure that the lessons aren’t lost forever — I have the ability and the drive to keep moving forward … to keep bettering myself and others and, maybe, the next generation, if that should be in the cards.

Maybe that’s the ever-elusive meaning of life that we’ve all been seeking for millenia — to perpetuate greatness. 42, friends. 42.

FOLLOW-UP, AS PROMISED
from the asterisked (*) section above

No, I haven’t called. But it hasn’t left my mind that I might want to. But it reminds me of something I wrote last night, how I have this picture in my mind of what my future will be and who/what will be in it. And I am apt to turn people down for dumb reasons like, “Well, I don’t think he’s ‘The One.'”

So what?

Seriously, so-the-fuck-what?!?!

I don’t need “The One.” I need some pre-show entertainment, for cripes’ sake. I don’t have to stay for the whole movie — I have never been a long-haul type of girl anyway.

There are so many things I know/hope will happen in due time. I think we all have those gut feelings, but in the meantime we all squander opportunities, assuming we’ll get more. What am I doing during this supposed “interim”? Sitting around waiting for what might or might not ever be? What am I doing to better myself, to expand my mindset, to prepare myself for what is coming whether I am ready for it or not?

I’ll tell you why Tracy’s death hit me so hard. She lived, she loved, she illuminated the world of the people she touched and even the lives of those of us on the periphery whom she will never know. She left behind a legacy. Could the same be said of me, were I to leave this world at this point in time? I don’t believe so.

So, it’s time to change that. It’s time to outline exactly what I’ve been procrastinating about and to conquer it. I want to start taking care of my health. I want to start undoing the pile of damage I’ve done to my finances. I want to know what it feels like to love and be loved so that when “The One” reveals himself, I will know what to expect so that I don’t settle for an ounce less than I deserve. And I want to know that I am 150 percent present and ready to be all he ever wanted, too.

There’s never an official moment when adulthood is conferred, as Tiff says, but if you’re listening closely, sometimes you can hear your heart slam the door on all the bad stuff of the past to let you focus your energies forward. That time has come again for me — and this time, I’m not going to squander any more opportunities. I know what I want, but I’m not going to just survive until it comes — I want to earn it … and, ultimately, enjoy it and feel worthy of it.

SIT UP, WORLD
It’s time you felt my presence. Even if I have to kick you in the head to take notice of me and pay attention, you’re going to feel it. And if you’re not going to help, then pull out the pom-poms and shake your ass and cheer me on. …

On iTunes: Vanessa Daou, “Make You Love”

Not three days ago, a window opened. Funny, that — it’s the universe not only balancing itself out but, moreover, bracing us for the blow it was going to deal this morning.

On Tuesday, we said hello to new friends. This morning, we say goodbye to the one who brought us together.

While I’m not the sentimental type, I’m crushed. I ache for this girl and that precious little boy (here’s the link again — go see that photo!). I ache for Lachlan. I shake my fist at the universe and wonder why.

But then, the “version 2.0 Dawn” takes over and thanks the stars for all that is good. For the fact that I have been able to rebound. For the people, places and things I’ve been fortunate enough to experience, however briefly. For the people, places and things that remain. And for those that haven’t arrived — or that I haven’t fully come to appreciate — yet.

More importantly, I am grateful for the signs along the way and for the gifts that are left behind for me to open and cherish in my own time.

So, while I am sobbing like a sissy behind my office door profoundly impacted by the fact that Tracy left this world early this morning, I will take a wise man’s advice to Lachlan and apply it here — live for those whom we’ve lost … and in that, we remember to live for ourselves.

Lach, thanks for entering our world, and Tracy, thanks for bringing her here. This one’s for you:

On iTunes: Beth Nielsen Chapman, “Sand and Water”

UPDATE — Thanks Ted, for helping me to see and to believe. 🙂

… for Earworm.

(Yes, I’m going to cop out of writing a “real” post in favor of opening a Pandora’s box of tunes. This is what’s on in the car these days.)

I know some of you are looking for my birthday CD (with all my *favorite* favorites) — which would happen but I keep finding good songs that represent how I feel on (the second anniversary of) my 29th birthday.

Drop me your address at goddessdawn AT gmail DOT com if you haven’t already, and maybe it will be a Christmas CD instead of a birthday one. 😉

Till then. …

Vanessa Daou, “For Anything”

Everything But the Girl, “Downtown Train”

Chantal Kreviazuk, “These Days”

Dresden Dolls, “Coin-Operated Boy”*

* First one to tease me about “battery-operated boys” get a spanking!

Dear Tracy,

We’ve never met, and sadly, in this life we never will. Your story breaks my heart again and again — we are the same age, and while I sometimes piss and moan about my fate, you will be a lifelong reminder (for me, as yours is being taken away so cruelly in so short a time) to live and love and get all I can out of the time I’ve been given.

And what I want you to know is that I am grateful to you — you brought some special people into my circle who, sure, I might have run into somewhere along the line. But I’m glad to have met them now. You brought Lachlan here to D.C. all the way from Seattle. And the earthly St. Liv (at least, that’s what I am calling her!) literally and kindly brought Lachlan (and her own fabulous self!) to Dave and me.

People like to tease me that I have “imaginary” friends — people I’ve “met” from reading their blogs. But I’ll tell you, I *know* some of these people better than others that I’ve known in person for a decade (and they actually head over here and read this drivel, too — astounding). And it’s lovely when you can sit down to dinner and hang out afterward like you’ve known each other all your lives. To, let’s face it, be in the presence of people you never dreamed you’d be able to meet and, even better, to find out that they’re as smart, funny and downright fantastic in “real life” as they are on their blogs.

In any event, while the reason behind this impromptu visit was a sad one, you’ve given this whole group a gift simply because you ended up in this area and because you are such a special lady that your old friend from thousands of miles away wanted to be at your side to say goodbye. So, thank you for being the impetus behind our convergence (and consumption of Belgian beer — yay Delirium Nocturne!).

And so, a toast — to old friends, and to new.

(Photo whored hijacked from Dave’s place.)

On iTunes: Budgie, “Breadfan”

OK, here’s a brain-buster.

I got onto I-395 northbound at Exit 5 today. I traveled to Exit 8, a distance of two miles MAYBE. Between those three exits, eight songs played on the CD player (and I played Song 8 three times, for a total of 10 songs altogether).

No, silly, I’m not going to ask you how long it took me to travel two miles. But I AM going to ask you exactly how much Xanax it could possibly take to ease the throbbing vein in my forehead.

That, and how do I un-dent my forehead after banging it against the steering wheel 300 times between Alexandria and Arlington?

On iTunes: Garbage, “It’s All Over But the Crying”

… thanks to Sherri and Reader Poll Monday!

1. What is your favorite street/fair/festival food?
I used to love the Three Rivers Arts Festival, which has been pared down from three weeks of rotating, breathtaking displays of artistry (I was always mystified by the glassworks) to a weekend of fingerpaintings done by kindergartners. In any event, I used to get crepes filled with bananas and a sauce that was based on Captain Morgan’s. I have never seen that anywhere else.

2. Have you ever gone to a single-food-specific event (such as a tomato festival or a pumpkin festival)?
Again, going back to Pittsburgh, you could always find me at Italian events (trying to find a date, no doubt!). And there was this rinky-dink festival in my rinky-dink hometown — the International Village Festival. (I. Hate. McKeesport. HATE.) But the Village was cool because all the various nationalities in the area could showcase their cuisine. I have had better latkes, of course, but the honey balls (Greek) were worth the aggravation of running into classmates I hated during my summer vacation!

3. What was the highlight of your weekend?
Talking to Lachlan. The highlight of my week will be meeting her!

4. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you recently?
I don’t embarrass easily. Really. Try me!

5. You have 3 weeks to travel cross-country. Where do you go and how do you get there?
I travel by plane. I like speed — I swear, if I could put jet fuel in my Sunfire (although, some may argue that I already do. …), I’d be a happier person!

I could go just about anywhere. Ship my ass off to the West Coast and let me live at half-speed for awhile — I’d be happy! Although it’s rough to go from the lazy days on the Left Coast to the utter insanity that comes with being an East Coaster. 🙁

6. Which PEANUTS character are you most like?
Lucy.

7. Would you rather have poison ivy or a blistery sunburn?
Sunburn, I guess. I’m kind of accustomed to frying after 30 seconds of sun exposure!

8. When you travel, are you a light packer or do you take everything but the kitchen sink?
I went away for three weeks last fall, and not only did I NOT repeat an outfit, I had about 10 outfits I didn’t even TOUCH! And don’t get me started on the shoes and belts I forgot about. …

9. Are you planning to attend any concerts this summer? Which ones?
The “American Idol” tour. Heh. Just kidding. No plans — I might catch a B-rate act at Wolftrap, though, if anything seems interesting.

10. Ask me a question. 🙂
How’s that new iSight workin’ out for ya?

On iTunes: Alana Grace, “Black Roses Red”