Caterwauling

Drove Momma over to Sanibel/Captiva yesterday for her birthday. The trip was only the duration of an average workday, so around 15 hours all told.

I realize I dramatically prefer the West Coast of Florida over the East. The people are nicer, the pace is more-orderly, the world just seems to make more sense over there.

We passed through Fort Myers on the way and Mom’s spidey senses kicked in and she asked me to keep going straight for a while instead of making my turn. And we ended up running into a Famous Dave’s, which we haven’t seen since we lived in Maryland, having her birthday lunch there.

ZOMFG burnt ends, yo. And toes in the Gulf of Mexico.

Speaking of spidey senses, I’ve had two horrid work dreams the past two nights. One, I dreamed one of my superiors and one of our corporate partners moved in with me and I was part of/privy to all their discussions. And I don’t know if, as the child of a psychic, my vivid dreams are prophetic or what, but they were Up to Something and it was … Interesting.

Then last night, I dreamed that a guy on my team was conspiring with the boss to get me out. They called me late one night after I’d left late and said I needed to go back to the office and I said, hey, I work so hard … this is going to wait till morning. And the guy said, “No, you don’t work hard enough. And that’s what I told (boss).”

And dumbass me, who worked 40 hours between Tuesday and Thursday of this week, got dressed and ready to drive back to the prairie where the office resides.

Anyway, my odyssey yesterday made work feel like it was a thousand miles away, but it always comes back. But while it couldn’t afford enough funds to stay over so I didn’t have to do an exhausting driving marathon, it did afford us a couple tanks of gas and a nice lunch. Days like yesterday almost make it all worth it.

I finally blocked the bitch. FREEDOM!

Of course, I admit that anytime I get pee-shy, I picture filling up her wrinkles in the toilet and it WORKS EVERY TIME.

Guess it’s time to find a new target. …

“Running with the rats through the city
Makes you feel like you’re a partner in crime
Girl, once you were young and pretty
Now won’t you stop to watch that little girl die …

I know you want to curse
This place
There’s only one thing
That’s stopping us now is

Fear, fear, fear
Of a new thing
Fear, fear, fear
Of the brass ring.”

— Bon Jovi, “Fear”

I saw one of my friends who had to work today posting their lack of enjoyment of it. I worked a bit too, from home. I’ve got to let a lot of dogs use this hydrant and I’m woefully behind.

I had one of those mini-revelations this weekend. I’m thinking that I don’t like the publishing world anymore. I’m sick of being beholden to constant deadlines. Daily deadlines.

I mean, I usually thrive with them. But I’d give my life to take a week off to meditate (or medicate) and then come back full-force without the entire world having changed without me.

Maybe I need to move fully into marketing. Or management. Or copywriting. I think a combination of each. Even though I love love love editorial more than everything else combined. I just … need to do a job switch for a little while.

Or a life switch. Whichever.

I’ve given up everything in my life to have a great career. I’ve lost hundreds of friends, thousands of hours with people I love, opportunities to go on dates and maybe even get coupled-up, the chance to have a kid … maybe the chance to have kids entirely, and trips and vacations and all kinds of other stuff that could have changed the course of my life.

But it’s OK … I’ve given my heart to my career. I’m now at the point of “What if it wasn’t worth it” or “Maybe I’ve had my priorities fucked up” or “If I just keep going, just push as hard as I can for as long as I can, it’ll all pay off, right?”

The still, small voice in my head said to me today, “You’re afraid of losing all you’ve achieved so far.” And it was right.

I fear that my life, uninspiring though it may be right now, could crumble. And I couldn’t handle waking up to anything less-thrilling than the way things are now.

I guess I just want to know that everything I gave up, everything I continue to GIVE up, isn’t being done in vain. That there will be a nice retirement, a travel fund, good health, and people to love me at the end of all this.

I know there are no guarantees. And I don’t know whether to risk what I’ve got on the shot of getting more, or just keep chugging and hoping that by staying in one place, luck will finally know where to find me.

What would you do, if you didn’t know what to do?

At my last real job (pre-freelance), my mantra was, “Thank God I have a job, even if it’s this one.”

At the one I’m at now, I’ve gotten a little wiser when it comes to God. These days I say, “Thank you for THIS job.”

Last week, someone on “the other side” asked me if I’d ever edited a certain guy in our industry. Since I have edited EVERYBODY in this industry, that was affirmative.

This person said, “There are no words to describe his writing.”

I said, “Sure there are. He writes long and repetitively and talks in circles till he drops you at the end like you just fell out of a house in a hurricane.”

My friend said, “So apparently there ARE words to describe it.”

Some wounds, you just can’t forget. Even if they’re the ones you inflicted on yourself with the express purpose of trying to go all “eternal sunshine” on yourself.

So, my favorite thing about my WeightWatchers app — and the program in general — is that when you log in every day, your sins of the past have been erased and you start with a clean slate.

Your points record from the previous day is gone. You ares shown all the points you’re allowed to eat today, and a blank tracking form to chart them as you consume them.

It’s liberating. It’s a new day, in every sense of the word. I can’t express how appreciative I am to have a visual reminder that I get to start over fresh, every single day.

I wish life had that ability to show us that we can leave yesterday’s problems right where we found them.

***

On the clean-slate theme, something I wrote yesterday bugged me. And probably not the thing that close-attention-payers would think.

I always refer to Whorothy as ugly. And when I speak in my broad terms, like I tend to do, I generalize people who are “uglier” than me.

I feel like I need to erase that. But since I don’t do a lot of erasing around here, I want to explain and even berate myself.

First of all, I ain’t no beauty queen behind this keyboard. I struggle with my weight, extraordinarily poor hair and an absolute inability to confront the right people or control my absolute disappointment or disgust around the wrong ones. First-place prize, I am not.

But I try to be gentle with those who need it. I try to be a cheerleader to those who need some inspiration, those whose chosen ones walk over them with shit-kickers. I really think what I lack in the ability to respond quickly is more than made up for in my ability to pinpoint the best course of action. I work super-hard. And I care. Anything you can say negative about me, you have to also say, “Well, she follows her heart and busts her ass.”

So when I rage against Whorothy, realize A) she inspires absolute lunacy and B) she’s a proxy for all that is unfair in my world.

And so when I say it crushes my soul that men choose those who are uglier than me, I mean inside and out. I watch her absolutely zing a nice person online. Decimate him. And insulting people on their own Facebook page for all their friends to see is unfair. Like, how do you pass off that piece of shit as your girlfriend when everyone is looking at her going, wow, what a cunt?

What my real intention in cleaning my sins today, however, is to point out that I’ve been dumped for many beautiful women in my day. Inside and out. And I am still friends with all my boys and I don’t want a single one of them to think I’m insulting their queens.

I’ve always been the girl to approve their betrotheds. Even if they would have still shacked up with/married them anyway, they always felt better when I said, “You did good.” And they did. They all did.

I think it was easier back then for me, because I was a big believer in not forcing a “meant to be” and that my own meant-to-be was yet to come. Now that they’ve all been married for 10 years, my faith is a little shaken.

And if I’m real honest with myself, maybe some people take up more time than they should in my mind because I wonder if it’s just that I’m not GOOD at separating friends from something more.

In any case, you’ll probably notice that I haven’t talked about Topo Gigio (who hearts Whorothy) for months. That’s because he’s long gone and I have new problems I’m not blogging about. I just continue to wonder why on earth anybody could love her (and not me). IF she were sweet or beautiful or kind or treated him well or was anything but what I perceive her to be, I would be short about three dozen blog entries.

Anyway, to all my guys: Your ladies are beautiful. Because they love you.

Any additional personalities or looks are only icing on the cake.

Alas, my clean slate involves worrying about ME, not worrying about other (good) people’s choices. It’s hard to separate myself when I think I’m being helpful, but I’m not. People need to come to their own conclusions. And if ever he does realize I’m right, I don’t think I’d be the first one he calls.

Maybe he would if I’d reacted differently all along. *shrug* I’m not going to apologize for wanting the best for people. I just have to get better at accepting when I don’t fit their definition of “best.”

Source: https://medium.com/writers-on-writing/94ec1b9f5741

The feeling of not being in one’s home country. Hmm. I know I was born in these United States but, yes, I do feel like a part of my heart currently resides in parts unknown. Like Tuscany or the French Riviera.

So, another weigh-in, another failure to revel in.

I’ve been gaining and losing the same 0.4 pound for the past month. This week it was a gain. Le sigh.

I haven’t eaten anything but meats and vegetables and dairy since the beginning of this summer. No cake. No ice cream. I cut out the bagels. I really don’t have a lot else I can cut out.

My best losses come when I use my extra 49 points to drink alcohol. Honestly. It’s annoying, really.

This week I even got exercise! Three days of staying home equaled not only needing just one tank of gas instead of two, but it also meant a walk on the beach every night. Shouldn’t exercise help matters?

In other words, I was mentally more healthy this week. Of course, Friday was a mess. Drama and stress. Funny, I did weigh less on Thursday than I did today. That says something, doesn’t it?

The harder I work, the less-fair everything seems to be. The harder I, well, not diet per se but try to take care of my body, the pudgier I become.

I always say that things can’t change till you set them in motion. Every move is progress. I am probably one of the healthiest pudgy people I know. I just stalled after I lost 10 pounds and frankly the wind is so out of my sails that I just don’t even care right now.

I did go to my meeting today and was just deflated after I heard it wasn’t a loss. Like, how? Seriously, how?

The leader said something interesting, and that’s why I go. She said some of us did the program before and had smashing success, and now we’re struggling. OMG it’s like she heard my thoughts! And she said, look, you’re in a different place now. There’s no formula. All you can do is keep working at it.

Which, she’s right. But every time I give up something I really wanted … every time other people get promoted or complimented or favored over me … every time someone sends us a group nastygram after THEY did something wrong to shine a spotlight on things they want to say we did wrong … every time my heart gets broken because a boy would rather date someone uglier/skinner/married-er than me … I lose a little more of my mind.

And the remaining portion of my widdle brain just isn’t regenerating.

And to further test me, Whorothy changed her profile photo. Do you know how much it is KILLING me not to comment? 😉 I am committed to being a better person. Not sure why because I always seem to be the one who gets the door slammed in my face. (Thank you cunt in apartment 617 for shutting the front door and the elevator door in my face on purpose while LOOKING RIGHT IN MY FACE WHILE YOU DID IT.)

I feel like a stranger not only in my own land, but also in my own body. And I’m not sure whether it’s worth continuing to fight to take control of my destiny when shit seems determined to keep happening the way it wants to.

Far Niente is one of my favorite wines, for those of you who are looking for the perfect gift for every occasion. But it’s more.

If you saw “Eat Pray Love,” you’ll know that “dolce far niente” is the sweetness of doing nothing. It was used in the Italy portion of the movie, in the context of how Americans work their asses off and we carry our stress every day of our miserable lives because we have no idea how to just stop and enjoy.

We just can’t, you know? I was just flipping a coin over whether I want to work my 12 hours at home or add two hours in the car in commuting time to it. When I thought, Jesus, Goddess. NO COMMUTE. ENOUGH STRESS ALREADY.

Besides, I won’t get this “week off” (hah) again. Sure, squinting at the laptop is making me nuts. But it’s as close to “far niente” as my life currently allows.

God I need to move to Europe.

When someone tells you that they’re “not happy” about the lack of completion on some random detail project you’ve had on your to-do list for weeks and which stays at the bottom because it isn’t something that is going to change lives, make money or cost anything if it isn’t done, is the wrong response to tell them to “get happy”?

Worked from home today. It was everything I dreamed it could be. And so much more.

Got an unexpected visitor today. Who put together the desk I just bought from IKEA while I worked. Now if only I didn’t have to return the chair I bought that is wonky. Right now I have a desk with a too-small yoga ball for a seat. *shrug*

I would have put them together eventually. Maybe. Of course, my dining-room set waited two months for assembly till one of my boys came here from Pennsylvania and did it on his vacation time. (And that’s currently my desk!)

So, the other memorable part of my day: I had a mini yam fit. It was a weird one. Like, I’ve never had tears shooting horizontally off my face before.

I’m going to take a wild guess that I won’t be seeing this particular visitor ever again, as he witnessed it! lol

It’s funny because I’ve never really taken vacation from work. I’ve lost most of my vacation days in my life and that was OK because I didn’t feel like I needed them. Oh, how I need them now. Especially as they’re expiring and I’m actually telling people to PLEASE don’t give me any new projects right now because I am too burned out to give them the fabulous Goddess treatment that they’d normally get if I had two thoughts to rub together.

I’ve never said no to more work. It is normally my lifeblood. Now, it’s like, great. I can’t take a vacation with the same old workload. How am I ever going to escape with MORE to walk away from?

That was only part of the yam fit. The thing is, I have this grand plan to buy a car (hah) and drive to D.C., then to Pittsburgh, and back again. I’d be happy to work during some of those days. But I don’t know how to leave Mom for more than a week or so because she doesn’t function without me. And then there’s the buying a car bit.

Everyone at work is telling me to lease a car. And that would be fine if I didn’t put 35K on Mom’s car just in the past year using it as my commuting vehicle. She put 35K on the car from 2004 through last year. I doubled the mileage in one year working out in West Egypt.

That’s why working from home is such a gem. Not only do I not have to deal with idiot drivers for the usual hour and a half, but it’s as close to a vacation day as I can get right now.

I don’t mean to complain. I love what I do. I really do. I just … need to not do it for a week or two. Without fear.

One reason I don’t like working from home is I remember not having a job … or working and not getting paid. I remember standing on my balcony BEGGING my now-ex-friend to please for the love God PAY ME. I was working around the clock for her and not getting a dime … and blowing all my cell phone minutes out of the water because we had to TALK ON THE PHONE all the fucking time.

And now I have a lot of conference calls and it makes me NUTS A) to not be able to work and B) because I remember yap, yap, yapping and sharing ideas that those assholes are using now that they didn’t compensate me for.

Meanwhile I’m always feeling like an ass that I’m tired all the time and while I give my best, I notice that my best was better when I had a little more spunk in me.

So anyway, yams.

I’m debating whether to head to the office tomorrow or just hang out here in my happy place. That was my IM status today: Happy Place. One of my friends messaged me and said it made her day seeing that status. The last time I worked from home, another friend messaged me to say good for me; it’s about time I practiced a little self-preservation for a change. I love that. I love that people care about me. Now, to figure out how to spend a little more time caring for myself so I can keep giving my all to all of them. …

I loved my last post. I felt so wise, so free.

That afternoon, I was out having lunch at a local park and I saw a diving journal that had been left behind. I found a phone number and called the guy. He lives far away, so I offered to mail it to him. You’d think that would be worthy of a “thank you.” You’d be wrong.

He told me to instead drop it off at a local business and he’d come back for it. Considering that he had a bunch of licenses and certifications in there that might be useful since he’s a diving instructor, you’d think he would have been less cold and gruff and unappreciative.

Meh.

I got to said local business and waited forever for someone to acknowledge me. I found out that the owner of the journal had called to say I was coming. So why they were all hiding in the back corner of the store and not answering as I tried to get their attention?

In true “no good deed goes unpunished” fashion, the big bird called the universe spreads its ass cheeks and takes a dump on my life. Usually it takes a day or two for misfortune to find its way to me. But this time, my punishment was instant. Because when I was inside, my car got keyed. Sigh.

I didn’t need a parade or a thank-you or anything, but jeebus, why does my reward always have to be a kick in the ass?