Caterwauling

I have had one of those weeks in which I have been busy and definitely put in some looong hours, but I don’t feel like I have a friggin’ thing to show for it. *pfft*

WHY YES, I DO GET ‘SLIPPERY WHEN WET’

Bon Jovi is in town this week. On a freaking work night. *sigh*

There is seriously nothing that makes me happier than Bon Jovi music. I mean, I am psychotically addicted to it. And I have never missed a show of theirs — whenever they come to town, I’m so there. I missed their Dec. 17 show at the MCI Center because I was in Vegas, but I figured I’d catch this show. But then money crises came one after the other and are still in progress, and blah blah blah whineycakes, I never got a ticket.

So today, I said fuck the phone bill — I need a Jon Bon Jovi fix. I’m depressed, damn it!

Alas, I debated about spending the $98 a seat, plus $12.50 Ticketmaster fee PLUS the $4 fee to have my ticket e-mailed to me, and I thought about the best-case scenario of rushing out at what other folks would call “on time” and then what traffic would be like at that time and whether I could go home and park at my local Metro station and take the Metro to MCI center and still actually *see* the concert.

But alas, lest I get called a whiny, sniveling bitch again on my own website, I’ll do the rest of my whining behind the “more” tab.

COUNTDOWN TO OPERATION:MOVEOUT IS ON!

I think I found a few places I really like insofar as moving. I honest to Christ am so through with my shitty commute to work, and it very much impacts my productivity. Being pissed off and exhausted and stressed by the time I cross the state line forces me to hide in my office for an hour, where I am literally there in physical form only. I’m on-call, but I refuse to be seen or, for that matter, I’m unable to be overly useful.

My fear in moving near the job has mostly revolved being stuck in BFE if things should happen to not work out. Because moving to Maryland and, say, possibly ending up with another job in Virginia someday (where I already live) would mean doing the reverse commute and I really couldn’t handle kicking myself more than I have in my life. My ass is numb from it being kicked so damned much.

But I think I can safely say I’ve just been stubborn and unreasonable about this. Mom the Psychic sees me there for a few more years, and she thinks I’ll be more willing to jump in with both feet if I’m not spending two hours a day commuting and having to figure out how to keep my energy spread evenly throughout the day.

Don’t get me wrong — I give it my all. I am very good at what I do and enjoy it quite well. But I give no more, no less than 100%. And that ain’t like me. I used to kill myself to get ahead. Now I kill myself just to keep up. I need to get back into overachiever mode, and I think shaving the commute will be a magnificent time-management tool for me.

DOES THAT MEAN BECOMING A MARYLAND DRIVER?

(*twitch*)

Driving within the D.C. Beltway will DO YOU IN insofar as the gumption to get behind a wheel because you never know if you’re going to need the jaws of life to carve your ass out.

Apparently stop signs with white borders are optional, and solid lines painted on the road are merely suggestions. And how can you speed up to merge into the left lane when idiots are hitting their brakes in front of you? And tailgaiting? Jesus Christ — it’s not considered to be “reckless driving.”

Case in point — I was booking to work the other day. I wasn’t late for work — I just could not stand the snarl I was in nor the fucktard who was practically chained to my bumper, going 65 in a 40. (I was probably going 66.) I finally punched it to the floor to get the hell away, and guess which one of us got pulled over? Albeit with a warning, but still — self-defense just isn’t a plea here in D.C.

And before I give up on self-defense and go straight for the insanity plea, I think it’s a blessing that the eviction notice came when it did. And I really don’t care if I’m just going with the clothes on my ass and the cats on my back (heh), I’m going. And that’s all that matters.

STRAIGHT UP, YET WITH A TWIST

I’ve made no secret of the fact that my best friend left town two years ago and is on the West Coast and that I’ve literally been dying inside without having her here. Sure, I’ve got a handful of local friends, but I’ve become a loner. My weekdays are long and challenging. I stay up late to blog/pay bills/write/feel like I have a sufficient work/life balance.

I don’t turn on Instant Messenger and I don’t pick up the phone. I usually hit my quota of being “on” and, even come the weekend, I’d rather drop out of sight. I like to think I’m a hermit. Others might think I’m asocial. But it’s not like I’m returning their correspondence/communications to hear what they think.

Lord, I digress.

In any event, it’s a LONG shot, but my friend’s husband got a call to interview for a Very Good Job back here in D.C. It’s a long process and one that could go really well or not so well, but they could move back here within a year, if he aces his exams and interviews. Which, he’s a charmer. He’ll do just fine. I mean, they went looking for HIM!

Which means, I could have my friend back. My friend who loves Alexandria, Va., and ultimately, would want to come back here — to the city that I’m leaving. Granted, it would be great just to have her in the same TIME ZONE, so I’m not complaining, but oh how I wish I could afford a bigger place so they could stay with me until they would get settled around here.

It’s kind of funny — I’d planned to go visit her this spring. Instead, I’ll dump all my money into a move, and if the universe is feeling cooperative, she’ll come to me.

Like they say, a door closes, but a window opens. And in my case, the doors get slammed shut so hard sometimes that they break off their hinges, but then a window or two gets blown out with the gusts of opportunity that have been dying to get in and sweep away the bad things.

MORE EXISTENTIAL MEANDERING

I believe it’s an Eastern belief that cutting one’s hair is symbolic of killing off the dead ends and getting a fresh start.

Maybe that’s why I cut people out of my life and throw things away and, yes, hack a few inches off the ol’ moptop occasionally — anything to get a fresh start wherever possible.

Mom and I have discussed me leaving most of my shit behind when I move. I bought expensive stuff, but that was 13 years and 10 moves ago. We don’t want me to have an empty apartment, but on the other hand, I don’t have the strength to move it nor the money to pay to move it.

My friends say so what, take it and deal with it later. But it’s sort of invigorating, really, the prospect of taking a few furniture items, two cats and about 27 storage tubs filled with clothes.

Better still? I like it when certain people don’t know where to find me. My mom recently moved, got a private number and told no one, and Life is Good.

Many great philosophers say you need to bring closure to events and relationships. I love me some Joel Osteen (on the rare Sunday I am awake to see his broadcast on Fox), but how he says to make amends with those who’ve hurt you? I respectfully disagree.

Everyone and I mean EVERYONE has been forgiven, but the thing I’ve found with second chances is that everybody puts on a fake face until the real colors show through. Some people DO change — I know I’ve changed in many ways and all of them for the better — and thus second chances aren’t a horrible thing sometimes, but once folks start asking for their THIRD chance, well, there’s a problem. Bye, go away, have a nice day.

My cousin asked me this weekend if I shouldn’t just take this opportunity to move and go back to Pittsburgh. And if there was ever a doubt that I like my job, well, this refuted it. I asked her how I could do my job from Pittsburgh. (Which I could, but my immediate reaction to say oh god NO to Pittsburgh was a sign.) I want to move forward, not backward.

Going back there is conceding defeat. That I couldn’t make it in the big city. That all the dreams I’ve developed will never come true because I’d be leaving behind the things that inspire the dreams in the first place.

I just wish it weren’t such a lonely journey.

Which, if my friend and her family come back to town, it’ll be like having a family nearby again.

So, going back to why I hate the thought of making amends with selfish shitheads who screwed me over time and again — they take time away from the people who count. And my time is precious.

Which is why I’m actually kind of excited about the change of scenery. Time to leave behind the heartache and tears to make room for new, happier memories that will be much lighter to transport.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 29th, 2006 at 8:01 PM and is filed under Existential Meanderings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.