Caterwauling

Busiest day of the week and I have lunch and drinking plans. Which, normal people get to do. Not Goddesses. Not without paying for it in some way.

I got to thinking this morning about the butterfly effect. Now, I’m not a believer in going back to a moment that could have changed everything because that means all the good that has happened since that moment never would have happened.

But … every now and again when you’re juggling 82 projects but have a rare moment of stillness when each is out of your hands because you’ve done all you could … you think about what other happy moments you might have enjoyed instead IF ONLY (fill in the blank).

And while I will never, ever, never ever EVER let my mind get too far out of my incessant control … and I’m certainly living in the now and not the what-was-and-what-wasn’t … I wonder if I would have been squirming for daylight (as is my way) or would I have been happy (and I would never have developed “my way” in the first place).

Imagine, a Goddess without a restless soul. Of course, I don’t think that could ever happen. So, I’ll take the butterflies in my belly whenever I can get them and let others have the “what ifs.”

I’d rather keep defining my existence by “Hey, let’s try this next.” It’s a lonely life, but generally never a boring one.

Having a rare moment of peace, realizing:

1. I like my job.
2. I like the things that are developing at my job.
3. I have the best mom on the planet.
4. I enjoy Florida so much.
5. Driving along the beach road and smelling the salt air every morning with the sunroof open is amazing.
6. My social life is picking up.
7. I can buy a hotel room or plane ticket to anywhere, whenever I want.
7.a. And do.
8. It feels good to feel wanted.

Sure, there are about 40 layers of complication to each. But I’d like to bask in this moment where everything not only seems OK … but it actually is.

Ah, Election Day. The big draw here is that I vote at the fire station across the street that’s on the ocean. Because, hot firemen.

This year I have zero passion about it. I always vote. Always. This year, meh. *shrug* *coin flip* Charlie Crist or Rick Scott? Tweedledum or Tweedle-Hates-Women? Oh wait …

I used to be as blue or yellow or whatever dog a Democrat as it gets. And I would never say I’m a Republican or, worse, a Libertarian these days.

But while my leanings aren’t changing, I do feel the ground upon which I so firmly planted my feet shifting.

It’s kind of like when you get into your occasional sexuality struggle. It’s like, let’s face it, women are hot and they know how to please. But then you realize you crave cock too much and even the battery-operated kind just won’t do it.

Oh, wait, not everybody goes through that every couple of years? Never mind then. 😉

It keeps wandering off …

“In the morning when you wake up
I like to believe you are thinking of me
And when the sun comes through your window
I like to believe you’ve been dreaming of me

Dreaming mmm mmm

I know
’cause I’d spend half this morning
Thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in

I should know
’cause I’d spend all the whole day
Listening to your message I’m keeping
And never deleting.”

— Birdy, “Tee Shirt”

“Prince of Tides” time. I don’t even have to look up the quote to nail the closing monologue word for word …

We spent our last hours together at the Rainbow Room, dancing a slow dance, just like in my dream.

I held her in my arms, as I told her that it was her doing that I could go back. Six weeks before I was ready to leave my wife, my kids.

I wanted out of everything, but she changed that. She changed me.

For the first time I felt like I had something to give back to the women in my life. They deserved that. So I returned to my southern home and my southern life, and it is in the presence of my woman and children that I acknowledge my life, my destiny.

I am a teacher, a coach, and a well-loved man. And it is more than enough.

In New York, I learned that I needed to love my mother and father in all their flawed, outrageous humanity. And in families there are no crimes beyond forgiveness.

But it is the mystery of life that sustains me now. And I look to the North and I wish again that there were two lives apportioned to every man and every woman.

At the end of every day I drive through the city of Charleston, and as I cross the bridge that will take me home I feel the words building inside me.

I can’t stop them or tell you why I say them, but as I reach the top of the bridge, these words come to me in a whisper.

I say them as prayer, as regret, as praise.

I say, “Lowenstein… Lowenstein…”

I think I’ve mentioned Mom’s psychic-ness. And she dragged out a name from my five-years-ago past out of the blue this week.

Later that day, I heard from him.

How does she DO that?

She said she thinks I broke his heart. I had to give that one some thought since all I did was protect mine.

The whole mention is timely because my self-defense mechanism is in high gear. Not *as* high, mind you. There are some chinks in the armor after years of use. And, I didn’t think there were any real stakes back then.

I wonder if Mom was right about that after all. Of course, she’s right about everything.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was up for anything. After a fight, I became willing to be wooed. I was 100% ready to do whatever he wanted. And when it came time to head for the door, I almost forgot my coat on the way out, literally — that’s how quickly I sprinted.

If anything made him miss me, it had to be that. That I wanted nothing from him. That I didn’t give a damn about his money or the power or the life that went with it.

I wanted to see inside and know the person no one else did, and I was OK leaving with those secrets.

It’s still my secret. And if you guess, I will deny it.

In any case, I never romanticized it or him. I just wonder now whether that’s a blueprint to use again and again, or whether doing the arm’s length thing with an iron fist hurt me instead.

I didn’t give him a chance to hurt me. But I wonder if I also didn’t give him a real chance to please me if that might have been what he wanted to do.

I guess we’ll never know, although the universe has a funny, funny way of making sure you tie up those loose ends.

And if it does so by creating more, well, I’m going to make a big bow out of them and hope for the best.

I was just having a Halloween cocktail and thinking about the boy I met last week at Respects. One of them. The last one.

Not that I’ve generally met any quality guys there, to my knowledge. But he was a particularly skilled kisser. Not just out for sex. He seemed to crave a connection.

I could be wrong. I usually am. I like fun more than any girl. Much more. But I want so very much more and I don’t know why I can’t seem to have it.

I’m almost sorry I didn’t keep his number. Like to the point of wondering whether I should have shown up last night, just in case he came looking for me.

There’s a part of me that thinks he was there. I won’t fool myself for a minute that I broke his heart. But I wonder.

What’s the best part of the day so far …

1. Remote access not working so I couldn’t work from home
2. Dragging my unshowered ass to work so I could diagnose the problem
3. The problems being even bigger than the fixes I was able to make on my own
4. Noticing that another department didn’t give me a fill price on something
5. Which made us realize they didn’t get the e-mail in the first place
6. Upon further investigation it was a Fifty First Dates error
7. Hoping I don’t get charged for the multi-person investigation
8. Meanwhile missing IMs/e-mails from people who pay me that I can’t jump on
9. And my computer is still borked.

Happy fuckin’ Halloween, bitches.

If I had to pick just one …

Desperately needing some help and deciding I would rather stuff myself in a toilet and flush myself to China than contact the person I need to contact.

It ain’t MY fault people think I’m a slut because some random guy grabbed ME and kissed ME in a public place.

And by the way — it’s whore, thank you. Sluts don’t back it up.

(You didn’t see the other three who did the same damn thing.)

As usual, I will solve my own damn problem. Since apparently I create so many.

“This love is good
This love is bad
This love is a life back from the dead
These hands had to let it go free
And this love came back to me.”

— Taylor Swift, “This Love”

Free on iTunes today. Just another in about a thousand random coincidences.

I don’t know what I’m doing. But it works right now. And that’s enough.