Caterwauling

The definition of insanity is of course doing the same things again and again, in anticipation of a different result. 

Retrograde, and especially this cycle, brings up old and and resolved issues for you to face them head-on. You know, instead of leaving them in the past where they belong. 

In other words, insanity. 

I’ve been having landlord issues again. The resolution is that it’s time to go. I mean it this time. 

Consider that a week ago, my mover butt-dialed me. Which I wasn’t aware one could do with smartphones. But I knew it was a sign.

The next day, two toilets broke and I got in another fight with Scumby the Holy Rolling Handyman. I ended up hiring a pro and instead of biting the cost like my lease says I should, I deducted it from the rent. Hell and warfare ensued. 

I knew the mover calling was a sign.  So for yuks, I found a place in Boca I like. My realtor is seeing if it’s still available. 

What else? Snow White’s Band of Married Men is a good place to start. Especially now that some of them aren’t anymore. Not gonna worry about that until I see a white horse waiting outside this dump. But that would require me giving out my address. Which, fat chance because I’m moving!

Some old work issues have resurfaced too. This retrograde cycle hasn’t been bad; it’s just like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Old issues, new faces. And old issues and old faces too. Another day, another incredibly shrinking paycheck.

The more things change …

Was out walking the ‘hood last night after a bottle or three of wine with friends down the street. 

Dump 2.0 is great at night when the asshole dogs and the assholier dog owners are nowhere to be found. 

Then you get home at 2 am and the jagoff upstairs is rolling oil drums at 3 and building metal aircraft at 5 and jazzercizing at 6:30. And the case is once again made to burn the morhetfucker to the ground. 

I’m still mad at the world over Lauren. I mean, if someone so beautiful and kind and smart doesn’t feel like she deserves to live, I mean what the fuck are the rest doing here?

I was pontificating that when I got my answer.

Lauren left the world … and Summer was born.

Just like when Alyson died … Fiona arrived.

Just like when my friend’s mom passed, her cousin had a baby just minutes later.

I don’t mean to say there’s a finite number of souls available. It’s just that the void they leave behind always closes quickly.

I mean, after Leanne died, her would-be fiancé went on to marry a nice girl and have three babies.

But it’s the other things that happen afterward — that might have happened anyway if you hadn’t lost someone — the things maybe that you NOTICE that can define entire days.

I’ll give you another set of random coincidences.

Another busy day. I didn’t have time, but I ran to the post office. There, I had full intentions on running next door to play the lottery. And yet when I came out, I totally blanked and just walked toward my favorite lunch place.

The place I had told one of my BFFs about just yesterday.

I hadn’t seen her in a while. But when I walked in, THERE SHE WAS.

We talked for a good half-hour. It was divine.

Sure I came back to the ever-mounting pile. But it’s OK. I have a lot more pep in my heavy-hearted step than I did an hour earlier. And that will help me to hopefully sail through the things I’ve got to somehow get done by day’s end.

At least, in enough time to get back and buy my chance to win those millions.

In glancing back at those blog posts, I always do or want to do something big to commemorate the light that went out. Leanne inspired my move to Florida. Alyson inspired me to take care of my health (down 30 pounds total. WHAT).

As for Lauren’s legacy in my life, I don’t know yet. I want to move to Orlando. Or at least out of Braddock Beach.

I want love. The real, throw you up against a wall and make you feel every pore in your body tingle kind. I know most boys (and all of MY boys) want the girl who won’t leave them — the one who will be home waiting because she can’t or won’t try to do any better. They don’t want the one with her soul on fire who they have to work hard to keep.

I don’t know that there IS anyone out there who COULD work that hard for me. Or would. God knows I’ve been wondering when one of these guys would show up at PBI with the sense somehow knocked into them.

In any event. I want the happiest place on earth to be wherever I’m at.

Lauren, I owe you that.

And I’ll try to find the peace you pretended to have but could never really find.

Sigh.

One of my old colleagues died.

And lest you think “old” and “long life lived,” let me correct that mindset.

She was young and beautiful and blonde and full of life and always always ALWAYS had a sweet smile and comment for everyone.

We haven’t seen each other in years. But she liked a lot of my Facebook photos and left thoughtful and kind comments when the mood struck. Which, given how beautiful and kind and popular and world-traveler-y as she was, was surprisingly often.

I am super-sad I didn’t get to know her as well as I could.

BUT …

There were a whole bunch of shitheads who were turned off by her beauty. Granted, she didn’t exactly dress in traditional office-wear. She always looked like she was one clothing item away from stripping and going to the beach.

I loved that about her.

She didn’t see her beauty. I mean, maybe she did. But she seemed to love life and it loved her right on back.

Her sister had a baby a few years back. And the baby’s father died very young. So my friend packed up everything and went to be with them. That’s how good a person she is.

I heard she was coming back to town not just a week ago. She checked in from someplace in northern Florida. I figured she was on her way.

She never made it. And, from what I’m gathering, that was her own choice.

I. Am. NOT. OK.

I reached out to the friend who introduced us. I said I can’t picture this crazy world without her helping to make it turn.

Maybe he’ll tell me more. Or confirm what I hope I don’t really know.

Either way.

Lauren, sending you SO MUCH LOVE from our old office in Delray Beach.

Too little too late. But it was always there.

Everyone else, “love the one you’re with” if you must. But maybe just maybe grow a set and love the one you REALLY love — and let them know it and FEEL IT.

You’d be real surprised to know they might have been hoping you’d say just that all along.

So mom and I watch “Southern Charm.” On last night’s episode, Landon claimed that she invited Evil Kathryn to Shep’s birthday party. But then everyone (who HATES Kathryn) called her to ask why she wasn’t there. And the jig was up — Landon didn’t want to invite drama.

Shep was pissed because he’s all about inclusion. But I’m Team Landon on this one.

I say it because I’m lucky enough to be on an invite list for an event this week. And I noticed the absence of my own Kathryn. Now … do I stay in Landon character, or be the better (Shep) person and open my mouth?

Honestly this person usually forwards all my notes to someone else to handle them. So perhaps if they forwarded the invite too, it would be a win-win all around. Although, I’ve never quite met anyone who loves lunch as much as our Kathryn …

I grew up a couple miles south of Pittsburgh. I moved to the city for college and claim it as my hometown. Because, seriously, who the hell has heard of White Oak, Pa.?

However, I was born in the projects. West Mifflin, specifically. And I was very familiar with other bad areas like Rankin, Wilkinsburg, East Liberty (worked there) and Braddock. Spent lots of time passing through each.

We didn’t have money for much of anything, let alone vacations. My grandfather would joke that we’d go to “Braddock Beach” on holiday. Braddock had no beach. Just the giardiasis-infested waters of the Monongahela River.

I find myself in Boynton Beach, Fla., these days. I hate it. Absolutely abhor it. With rare exception, the people and apartments and cops are something I cannot WAIT to leave behind.

I call it Braddock Beach. Because, we do have a beach but we also have Braddock right on it.

I have stories to tell but it’s one of my busiest work weeks in a while. But I wanted to post this here because now you know where to find me. And where NEVER TO MOVE EVER EVEN IF YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT.

I posted a video of Evanescence covering “Purple Rain” over at Faceypages. Go watch.

It’s public, so you don’t have to be my friend. Unless I’ve blocked you. In which case, sucks to be you.

That cover/song is my everything.

It’s not that Prince was my all-time favorite artist. But he was a constant for the ’60s- and ’70s-born set. No party was complete without him. Every heartbreak could find solace in his songs. He was just THERE for all of it.

“I never wanted to be your weekend lover.
I only wanted to be some kind of friend.
Baby I could never steal you from another.
It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.”

I don’t even need to look up those lyrics. I’ve sung that song a million times to a half-dozen different people. In my mind, anyway.

I got to thinking about someone as I listened and recorded and tried not to bawl. Because, holy shit Amy Lee is A-MA-ZING.

Maybe it was the culmination of someones and my brain was putting together its own video reel as I listened and tried not to collapse from the hundred-degree heat and the thousand-degree fire inside my heart.

But it always seems like I find relationship-oriented people. Just not when it comes to me.

It’s OK. I’m less of a relationship type than any of them. Maybe they figured that out about me long before I did.

Doesn’t stop the occasional moment of “what if” from punching me in the face, though.

Luckily I’m only black-and-blue on the inside. And you’ll never know I’m missing you so much right now, I can’t even breathe.

And “you” is a surprising mix of three people I never, ever thought I’d think that about. Independently or all at once.

Well other than getting to see Evanescence rock the house last night …

Last Sunfest, we had just parted ways with some folks at work. Projects that took 45 hours a week, on top of my regular duties, were suddenly gone. 

It was a weekend of celebration then. And now. 

I wrapped up four projects, the worst of which I wrapped up on Friday. And one of those projects used to mean I had to wake up at 5 am on Mondays.  No more. 

Granted my body woke me up anyway today. But it’s ok. Coffee and WW Connect filled that space. 

And damn, guess who walked 20 miles this weekend at the festival? This girl!!!!

There’s this Connect feature on the Weight Watchers app. I love it because it’s a positive version of Facebook. Instead of people dumping on you because you like Hillary Clinton or you think the idea behind “Me-ternity leave” is a fair one, everyone cheers you on through good and bad.

Unfortunately there is an abundance of sad and negative posts. I mean, I get it. People feel alone and want to binge — or DO binge — and need/deserve encouragement. I don’t post those things but it is nice to see that I’m not the only one who drank ALL THE WINE last night.

I’ve noticed a trending hashtag, #keepconnectpositive. People posting pics with their dogs, or scenery they saw on their hike or screenshots of hitting their 10,000 daily steps on Fitbit.

In other words, keep yo shit to yo-self. Maintain the community.

People are talking about losing jobs, losing houses, losing family members — losing anything but weight.

It’s hard to look at. And as some cunt said to me about thinking the “Me-ternity leave” idea is something that I personally wouldn’t mind hearing more about, “You don’t HAVE to buy baby gifts.” Mother of the year, that one. Compassion much for a gal who has OTHER things to deal with that aren’t baby-related and therefore not as high a priority to others?

Anyway.

This is one of those “do I keep mah shit to mah-self” moments — where I only talk about how much fun I had watching Salt & Pepa and Rick Springfield at Sunfest yesterday — or I say what’s really on my mind?

Here’s what happened for anyone who feels like reading on …

I was driving to Sunfest and I saw an animal in the street that was clearly hurt. I think its back legs had been run over. It was tiny — I thought it might have been a rat but in hindsight it could have been a gray kitten.

As I approached (probably at 40 mph. I drive my age), I could see terror in its eyes and it tried to move but couldn’t.

I was lucky enough to swerve and miss her completely. But what about the cars coming after me?

I wanted so badly to pull over and pull that creature to safety. Get it help or let it die in peace.

And I thought, oh my god. This is how it happens. Some Good Samaritan dives into traffic to save a wounded animal and the hoomin gets kilt.

If you’ve seen all the crackheads in jalopies around here, you’d get my fears.

I didn’t “turn that car around.” (Oh yeah I did see OAR too since ZZ Top dropped out. Rockville REPRESENT.

And I have felt like SHIT since.

What if that was my kitty? That IS my momma. Nobody fucking cares but me about her and I am helpless there too.

But it brings up a bigger regret I have in life.

I used to help everyone, to the point there was nothing left for me. Not so much anymore. Going out of my way ain’t my thing these days.

Don’t get me wrong. I pray for anyone and everyone. I forgive my enemies. I love the people I meet from afar. I want a world filled with fortune and happiness for anyone who wants it. Call me a psychological socialist, if you will.

But that kitty, man. She was everyone and everything I maybe COULD have helped and didn’t. She was Maddie, Gram, Grampy, Old Gram, Aunt Lenna and my mom. She was Russell and every homeless person I had to walk or drive past. She was me after every misfortune with money and career and love.

She was helpless and just needed someone to give a shit. And I wanted to be that person. But not enough to do it.

I think most of you would say I did the right thing. That someone would have probably killed her within two minutes and put her out of her misery. That my momma needs me and I can’t afford to be hurt or dead or paralyzed for life or bitten by a frightened creature.

That some wild or runaway animal wasn’t worth my time or tears.

Well. Thanks. But that won’t stop me from remembering her terror or crying oceans because I didn’t do anything to stop it.

There were 12 brand-new baby duckies at my place. I think they all got killed while I was in Lake Buena Vista last week. I can’t find any of them. And I feel like maybe I attracted danger to them by feeding them. They trusted humans, which is never a good idea here. So, I’m not feeling the winning there either even though I tried to help.

One other thing while I’m not keeping things positive.

I was walking across the railroad tracks on my way to get some wine last night. And I thought, maybe I have seen enough of this life. I don’t mean I am going to lie down on the tracks or anything. I just had the sense that maybe if I’m not going to do anything great in this life, maybe I’ve already served my purpose.

I don’t know. I do have a band and fireworks to look forward to tonight. But I also have more urgent landlord issues and healthcare issues. (I tried to get mom coverage and I have threats every day for the past two months from the feds, the insurer and the underwriter for whatever forms I turned in or didn’t turn in and she needs help and did I mention FUCK OBAMACARE?)

Anyway. I do love this life. But there ain’t enough sleep you can get when your soul is what’s bone-tired.

Maybe it’s the wine talking. But I feel like I just met a potential soulmate. 

To be clear, I don’t believe in one true love. If I’m being honest, I don’t know where I stand on love at all. 

But I was walking behind two pinheads in ill-fitting suits who didn’t bother holding the door for me at the stairwell of our parking garage. 

I grabbed the door, and saw a good-looking guy standing there. I waved him out and he said me first. (Gentleman!) 

I felt like he saw my soul when he looked at me. And I felt in that moment that I had traversed oceans to meet this man.

We smiled and went about our separate journeys. But I felt forever changed after that moment. 

I often feel that my path is to work all day and return to my mother every night and weekend of my life. Then work some more to pay for that life. 

So to have a moment of magic, wow. 

Magic is still meant for me. I had forgotten what it felt like.  I’d forgotten that it’s something I had always believed was meant for me before she moved in nine years ago. That my destiny isn’t to just be worker/daughter/worrier-in-chief. 

Thank you, handsome stranger.