Caterwauling

No, I’m not referring to the Ben Affleck meme where he’s zoning out to the Simon & Garfunkel hit. 

I’m talking about when I get to the point where I don’t have anything to say that will do a situation any favors. 

I thought of a friend who would appreciate the story I can’t talk about right now. And then I figured that it would just turn into a mutual masturbation of complaining. And my capacity for compassion for anyone but myself right now is at about a negative 2 on the sliding scale. 

The madder I get, the quieter I get. And the kinder I get. Which may sound weird but when you’ve been hurt for the thousandth time while you’ve done nothing but sacrifice time, pride and privacy for the greater good, well. I could implode or I could show kindness to humans and animals who have been shown even less. 

Every thing moves us to our next levels. I intend to level up. And I suspect it will be pretty lonely up there. Which is pretty much exactly how I want it right now. 

It’s one thing to discover people aren’t who you think they are. 

I can deal with that.  

And have. 

And am. 

It’s just the confirming of who you suspected they were all along … when you were praying to be proven wrong … that’s far from pleasant. 

And the trying to pretend that you didn’t arrive at that particular epiphany is the real pisser. 

How I’m down two pounds this week is a miracle. Starved myself four out of seven days, yes. But enjoyed wine, Rita’s frozen custard, Bud’s Fish and Chicken  (specifically the fries. Zomg), and way too many Party Tizer Dippin Chips. 

Anyway. If I’ve been a little cranky lately, it’s because I’ve been HUNGRY. 

When something shady happens, and the Weakest Link is the lone connection to the shady event, it makes you wonder. Since god knows they didn’t work on any of your shit that you needed help on. But the thought of them doing anything “extra” is too ludicrous to even comprehend. And you could ask but they’re on vacation day 32 so far in 2016. Just like they were the last time something shady happened that connected these two parties. 

I’m so bummed.

I had a friend in my work building back in 2009. We started here at the same time.

We both left and both returned at the same time in 2014.

Today he told me Idiot Landlord shit-canned him. His last day is Thursday.

Reminds me of the joyful people who shit-canned me the day after Christmas so many years ago. Way to celebrate Good Friday/Easter weekend.

These fools want to raise the rent 20%. But losing my buddy will make it suck 20% more. I should think that alone would justify a discount.

I’m trying very hard not to think about the Weakest Link on Team Awesome. How the guy who manages my building and removes my trash is more cooperative, thoughtful, hard-working, eager to complete a project and think a few steps ahead, make someone’s life easier, or basically just be pleasant and valuable in general that that toadstool who makes it a point to tell me that “they are to be told if they are needed past a certain hour” (cough cough FIVE P.M.) but that shit don’t come out when they are cc’ing the higher-paid set.

In any event. It makes me sad when people love their jobs and try very hard to do excellent work get let go, while others who aren’t worth much more than dog shit on a shoe will “stick” around forever and stink up the place.

The office landlord paid a visit today. He had prospective tenants in tow. 

That was fun. I guess we are moving. 

I hadn’t thought about not being there in that building. It was seven years ago on March 24 that I started working across the hall. 

I got to thinking of the weight I was at back then. At least 10 pounds lighter. Maybe closer to 12 or 15. 

I want to get back there before we go. Hell, before my birthday would be even better. 

That would be a good, full round circle. 

I hope we can stay in town. It’s festival season and I would miss walking out and seeing things like this (from today’s Savor the Avenue celebration) …

I know a couple of people who vent about their spouses. Personal things. Things an outsider should never hear.  Things I need to scrub from my memory when I see these perfectly lovely people on social media or IRL. 

I also know other people who would rather walk on their lips than say a bad word about their better half. There’s one couple in particular that’s splitting up and honest to God, they are each other’s No. 1 reference. They want only the best for each other.

I am usually in the latter category. Don’t get me wrong. I can throw more shade than a beach umbrella. But generally I do want everyone to find their happiness. Oftentimes I’m just over the moon that the pressure is off of me to provide it. 

But I genuinely, honestly pray that the asshole who lives above me dies a violent, horrible, long, slow and extremely painful death. 

I’m also so exhausted by worrying about my mom constantly and not being able to make her OCD and in chronic pain self happy, that I really think my limits have found their limits. 

I normally don’t have much to say on either topic. I just thank God I’m alive and ok and that things are better than I probably deserve. 

But damn. Between upstairs and across the hall, I got no energy to deal with everyone and everyone else that was put on this earth to sap the best of me dry. 

So. I don’t want to be one of “those people” who can’t keep their trap shut about the choices they made. But I also need a minute off from the things I’ve chosen (it’s a better perspective than feeling like it’s not a choice) because I didn’t choose to feel like crap. 

I’m just so afraid to tell the universe I want a change because it might be a bad one. But I’m even more afraid of what will happen if shit stays exactly the same. What’s going to change is me and I’m terrified it won’t be for the better. And I won’t be able to get what I lost back. Even if I didn’t want it anymore while I still had it. 

“Take a long hard look at my face

Take away the things I can’t replace 

Take my heart, go on take it away

I’ve got nothing to say.”

— Grace Potter, “Things I Never Needed”

I’m getting Stewie a bath today. Seventy-five bucks. I figure I wash him once a year. Last year’s trip led to a $300 repair after the guy broke my wiper transmission.  But I figured that was the universe getting me back for not being able to tip the guy the year before. 

I was debating handing cash to the guy I think I stiffed. But hell if I would know if it’s the same one. I remember the guy who broke the car though. He isn’t here. 

I was telling mom about it. She said the same thing after i told her how terrible I felt after Maddie got sick and I didn’t even notice. She said you just do better the next time. 

So the guy today will get a good tip. And Kadie goes to the vet tomorrow. She’s lost some weight and is starting to pull out her own fur. Just like her momma. 

Well. I’m not literally yanking out my hair. Just metaphorically over all that’s going on and my utter inability to deal with it. Maybe it’s good that Dish Network is losing Bravo and CNBC. I can’t hide in reality tv and work anymore. 

But I did lose another pound this week. Go, me. 

This is me doing better this time. 

I got out of work at an OK time on Tuesday. Got a good parking spot at the convention center where the results party was taking place. Sailed through Secret Servive going through my bag and monitoring my passage through the metal detectors. 

While I was standing in line, I got to talking with one of Hillary Clinton’s staff members. Asked him if he’s having a good day and whether things were going his way so far. (This was a good hour-plus before the polls closed.) He was sweet and kind and grateful for a relaxed moment. 

I got upstairs to the event area and found a decent spot in the half-full already room. I could see the room-sized CNN broadcast and the actual CNN cameras (and every other network) that were pointed right at us. 

Pano …  

 Awhile later, the house was packed. And someone tapped me and asked if I wanted to move up to the front. It was the gentleman I’d talked to downstairs! I said thank you and went to stand to the front-left of the podium. 

Sweet. 

  
I got a bird’s eye view of the first poll results of the night.   
What I wish I could have photographed? The energy in the room. The cheers as our candidate won three states and took the lead in the other two.  The boos over Donald Trump’s mysterious victories. 

Wish I videoed the couple thousand of us singing “Na Na Na Na. Hey hey hey. Goodbye!” when Marco Rubio ended his candidacy. That was a moment in time to remember. 

I mean. He was probably better than Ted Cruz. But still. It’s entertaining to watch the GOP cannibalize itself. As long as that circus ends in November. 

In any event, I had so much fun. I loved that night. Talking to like-minded people who watch the news and read books and think about the consequences of today’s words and actions in the generations to come. 

We heard Trunp was going to speak at 9 p.m. from just a few miles away. We speculated we’d see our girl at 8:55. 

We called it. 

  
She was bold and full of light and life and fire. Oh the fire. Every photo I have is of her driving it home now serious this all is. To us. To her. 

That’s what I needed to see. That it isn’t just a campaign. Now it feels like a cause. 

The news would later say she should have smiled. You know. Instead of listening. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. 

I don’t post much on Facebook. I’m not up for a fight. I’m not taking the bait left for me by people I don’t call friends. (Although I expect and love the tough love from my boys.)

 I ain’t her and I’m not her apologist. I’ve spent enough time apologizing for my candidates and not enough demanding the same from everyone else’s. 

 
And no. Nobody’s done anything for me. But I’m having fun. 

I mean. I got to stand 20 feet from a former First Lady. And the presumptive Democratic nominee. And maybe, just maybe, the next U.S. President. 

Why would I have a bad word to say about anybody or anything when I choose to be a part of an important process … and my presence is welcomed?

Afterward, I stopped at Mellow Mushroom for a glass of wine. Met three other attendees I fell in love with. I should have flirted with the guy next to me. We talked rapid-fire about books and foreign policy and trade with China until my Thai Dye pizza to go arrived. We wished each other a wonderful night and life and a Trump-free Nov. 10. And I’m not going to wish I’d stayed longer. Even though, well, I do. 

A pretty good night, all told. The kind of night that restores your faith in the world and your place in it. 

Florida is the most diverse state in the union.  I’ve never seen more skin colors or heard so many different languages spoken. 

So you can understand my surprise that this is the first “I Voted” sticker that’s written entirely in English that I’ve ever gotten. 

Gratuitous boob shot. But I’m more fascinated that I have a waist!

  
So naturally I voted for Hillary. I don’t think I’d have a problem with Bernie winning the nomination. But I sure would have a problem with any of the current GOP nominees taking the nation’s top job. So, I vote accordingly. 

And if you turn your nose up at my vote, that’s your right. I read more than most people. My vote is an educated one. I’m not going to shout talking points from the rooftops. You go do you. Imma do me.

I feel a weird kinship with Hillary. Maybe because I stood with her at the National Building Museum eight years ago, listening to her concede the nomination to Barack Obama. 

A part of me died that day. I knew I worked harder than any man I ever knew. I knew I earned less. I felt like if this bright and capable and competent woman could succeed, so could I.  And it crushed me when she couldn’t. 

If there’s one thing I remember from 2008, and I remember it all, it’s this. She gave us hope. She said she would come back. She said we would succeed next time. That together we made 18 million cracks in the previously unshattered glass ceiling. 

I held her to that promise. She came back. 

That’s why I did too. 

At 7 a.m. at my old church, no less. 

Look. I’m not fooled into thinking I made a difference. Or that whomever is in office gives a damn about me. Or that the system is able to be repaired. 

But I’ve seen a lot of good things happen. And I want to believe what my sticker says, that “I made freedom count.” 

I might not count any other day. But today, I do.

Hillary is in town tonight. I’m going to go see her. Because, we need to have a victory together and I’m hoping that’s what we have in store tonight. 

I think we both deserve it. It’s time. It’s OUR time.