Caterwauling

“I know you’ve heard it all before,
So I don’t say it anymore,
I just stand by and let you fight your secret war.
And though I used to wonder why,
I used to cry till I was dry,
Still sometimes I get a strange pain inside.
Oh, Joey, if you’re hurtin’, so am I.”

— Concrete Blonde, “Joey”

This CD literally dropped out of the sky in my room amid a crapalanche while I was looking for a favorite shirt. What a wonderful tune.

I loved it when it came out because for three months I lived with a guy named Joe who was my heart, my adventure buddy, my cross to bear, a scar on my soul that I really don’t notice anymore.

I found myself poking at a different old wound the other day and this song still fits. It might be 20 years later and the aches and pains aren’t just on the inside anymore, but it’s funny how you still find yourself in the same situations.

I ran into Joe several years back. We were with new people and yet we beelined to each other for the world’s biggest, best hug.

I find that to be true even now. Put aside all the weird goings-on and you strip it down to two great people who will always love the absolute shit out of each other in our fucked-up little ways.

I have somebody I worry about. He says all the right things and acts perfectly fine around me. And at face value, for the sake of conversation, these days I’m willing to accept that.

I used to challenge him. I wanted him to see the world differently. And at some point I realized he sees it his way for a reason. And it’s not right for me to take away that unique coping mechanism when I have a million and five of my own.

But I always get so upset inside when it comes to him. Further proving that certain things just aren’t meant to be, and not the way they were/are. Mom said something interesting to me, that she’s never seen me get so nuts over somebody. Like, somebody-medicate-me nuts.

This whole having-one’s-heart-invested thing was foreign. And unprecedented. And I certainly don’t expect a repeat performance. I’m back to “live and let live.” It’s easier for all of us. And frankly, it just works.

Today I resolve to let go of Whorothy. I mean, I will continue stalking the shit out of her, I’m sure. 🙂 But I don’t have enough mental real estate to house her anymore. I never did.

This also means no more jokes or zingers (even though I just thought of a whole bunch of ’em). That’s because that isn’t me. Anger and frustration and HURT more than anything was the basis of my demented sense of humor toward her.

I was happier before I knew of her existence and I think letting go of wanting to mow her over with a moving vehicle might help me get back to that point.

I want to be the person I think I am … the one so many people seem to think I am … the one that I see in others that I feel like, of late, I can’t measure up to. And that means sending as much love out into the world as I possibly can. Perhaps this time it won’t get lost in the mail and I can finally, finally make this world a better place like I always planned.

I had a friend up in D.C. from the Ye Olde Employment Establishment days whose work I went to see in the artsy community a few weekends. One weekend I met her family and I made some sort of comment about her husband’s anti-Democrat political views. (She and I are Blue Dog, baby.)

She warned me to never, ever, never ever NEVER marry someone with opposing political views because it’s a stress you may THINK you can live with but the truth is it really makes life worse.

They’re divorced now.

I tell you this story to admit that I found ol’ Whorothy’s Twitter account recently. How in all my exhaustive stalking did I miss this? Oh my God. Everything I imagined and so much less!

I was on my kick of, “Well maybe she’s not so bad.” So I was trying to find something attractive about her photos. Or maybe find something she wrote somewhere that perhaps I might have agreed with.

And all altruism flew out the window with my discovery of (more) vitriolic nonsensical political bullshit. Fine, you don’t like my party or my president. But to be so rabid about it while using your real (and business) name?

I’m trying out “pity” as a reaction instead of disgust. Perhaps I should tell her No. 1 fan about my friend who warned me against the opposing-views thing. Or, just blog it and forget it. Yeah, let’s go with that.

It’s one of those no-good-very-bad days about which I shouldn’t write. Mostly because it’s also one of those “outside looking in” days and I’m feeling like my tolerance for those has ended.

It got me to thinking about ol’ Whorothy. Which caused immediate indigestion. But which enlightened me to so many things.

I am awesome. Nah, I am fucking magical. And I am sick to death of trying to keep convincing people of it. Especially when they seem to think others are more magical.

I rage so much against ol’ whorebag because I can’t rage where I really want to. And while I don’t care so much about people’s opinions of me because I know I am the epitome of awesomeness, it gets pretty damn wearying to continually have Baby being put into a corner. Baby belongs in a corner office with a corporate car, a black AmEx and an unlimited travel budget.

And when you’re on the outs enough times, you really genuinely lose your drive to ever want to be on the inside again. And the sad thing is when nobody seems to miss you.

Sadder still when you realize it doesn’t even matter to you anymore, either. Of course, I’m still waiting for that day.

I’m going to start with the good news because that’s all that counts, right?

I got asked out yesterday by someone 10 years younger than me. He’s cute and sweet. I polled some folks to ask whether it’s time to unleash the inner cougar and it’s a resounding YES all around.

So, um, squee!

On the other side of matters, [redacted]*.

* Yeah, let’s just focus on the positive, shall we? Maybe it will bring more positive things.

So, I admit, I expected one or both of the gals to be completely different than they were. Which shouldn’t have surprised me. My friend is so damn nice that it only makes sense that he’d know cool people.

Of course, he’s always told me I remind him of the one girl. So I figured she had to be an angry asshole, too. 🙂

So, this all begs the question … you all KNOW there’s one person I talk about on this site upon whom I’d inflict physical harm if I could get away with it. What if … she isn’t as much of an asshole as I imagine her to be?

Nah. Hating her is my last acceptable vice. Not quite ready to let go of it. Because accepting her is pretty much admitting defeat. It’s been a long, hard road to accept that everyone else but a certain guy seems to find me magical. To put her in the “tolerable” category would be the equivalent of saying she’s magical, too, in her strange way.

Of course, I could offer that black magic is about the only way I could understand certain turns of events …

Saw the Steve Jobs movie yesterday. My friend and I had a lot to talk about when it let out.

It was an OK film. Intriguing in places and lacking in others. I never knew about Lisa as anything other than a computer — didn’t realize it was his daughter and definitely didn’t realize what a dick he was to her mother.

My friend said he wished the film would have focused more on the Bill Gates/Steve Jobs relationship. It was only covered in one heated, one-sided phone call.

I appreciated the focus on the shareholders through a very tough board of directors that tried to shepherd the very stubborn company founder. It makes sense that they could spend a lot of time developing an ingenious product back in the day, but now it’s all about rushing it to market before your rival does. Because, well, you snooze you lose in this world.

I have the Jobs autobiography but I’m sad to say I haven’t read much of it. It took my friend explaining to me that the big drop in Apple’s share price toward the end of the movie, thanks to a “big buyer” dumping more than $1 million shares, was Steve himself preparing for his return to the company.

Anyway, that’s all fine and good but what I wanted to learn more about was developing the Apple dynamic.

I saw him recruit brilliant and hardworking people in the beginning. I saw him reward some (not all) of them for their loyalty.

I saw the boring years between the IIe’s success and the Lisa’s failure. I saw the cool new Macintosh team shaking things up and, unfortunately, letting down the bigwigs initially.

What got my heart was toward the end when the industrial-design director came up with the sketch for the first iMac … the little gumdrop that I used to own. How he felt that working at AAPL meant something. That he knew, like Woz and all the other early guys, that they were about to make some tectonic shift in an entire industry happen.

I was saying to my friend that I’m on the ground floor of something like that. But that I’ve exhausted myself so much during the “salad days” that I don’t know how much heart I have left to give everybody as we keep having to meet financial goal after financial goal. That I hope it’s the Apple of my industry’s eye but that I’m running out of steam and wondering what will become of me if A) that happens or if, B) the company runs out of steam (or cash) first.

My friend said it’s as simple as having a visionary at the helm. Sure Jobs was an absolute pain in the ass. But if you don’t have vision at the top, something big to work toward every day, motivating you to get out of your funk, then you have nothing.

I think we have plenty of vision. I guess I just need to go recharge somewhere for a while. I see a lot more that I can’t write here. I guess what I’m saying is that revolution is, indeed, in the air. I just hope we all get to see it … and celebrate it … at the same time together.

A.Ma.Zing weekend.

Killers concert last night with my lovely fellow Goddess of the Greek variety.

Today, yes, I went to brunch with the boy and the girls. And I have to say …

They. Were. Fabulous.

They were as nervous to meet me as I was them. They said he speaks so highly of me that they wondered what I’d be thinking about them. (Heh, let’s erase some blog entries, shall we?)

The girls were about 45 minutes late because they got lost. Which, I can’t figure out U.S. 1 to save my life down here either so it’s totally understandable. He and I got to catch up and connect, and I told them both it was fine because I had some time with him. They were visibly relieved and said it was so nice of me to include them (lol).

The one gal mentioned something about his quirkiness to me — something she said, “Oh I KNOW he’s inflicted that on you.” lol. It was generous of her to say what she said. Again, since this is The Short Version, I will leave it at that, but it really was good to hear that I’m not crazy, basically.

The girls invited us back to their place to hang by the pool. But he and I went in search of a few more rounds of drinks, then to a movie, and then out for a nightcap. But it sounds like I have an open invitation to hang out anytime. The one said, “That he introduced you to me, that means you have to be pretty extraordinary.” I will take that as a compliment. 🙂

I couldn’t have had a better weekend. Maybe the short version of it is all we really need. But it’s good to have friends … old AND new. 🙂

The theory of “lousy Friday, lousy weigh-in on Saturday” holds true. Up a half-pound. Seriously, I barely eat. And I barely get off my ass. The way I figure, I don’t consume enough calories to have to be active!

This week’s theme in my life is “accommodating others at the expense of yourself.” Oh wait that’s every week.

This week I am reminded that relationships are a pain in the ass — your own AND others’. I long for people to do things with, and then when I do, it’s all about their schedules and their wants and their quirks. I’m exhausted.

I had occasion to text my friend I’m supposed to see on Sunday. He replied back with a heads-up that brunch for two is now for FIVE humans. (No mention of the dogs.)

Apparently the plot continues to thicken. The girls are bringing another guy.

You know, maybe I should just bow out. After all, this was me taking him out for his birthday. If it’s a family reunion of friends, what is the point of my being there?

On the other hand, my appetite for drama (and blog fodder) is too potent to ignore.

I have yet to reply …

“She looks good
But her boyfriend says she’s a mess
She’s a mess
She’s a mess
Now the girl is stressed.”

— Lady GaGa, “Dance in the Dark”

I had a weird thought today. Like, what if you’re really NOT supposed to be miserable … and that I’ve wasted my entire adult life so far?

We know I like what I do and all the FABULOUS people there blah blah blah CYA-cakes. LOL. But really, I know violent unhappiness. I know disgust and the near-inability to show even so much as tolerance.

I’ve never known indifference. But my absence of visceral hatred occurred to me recently. It ain’t happiness but I think it’s the closest I’ve come to it. Anyway, let’s hope it lasts.

I was thinking, I wish they’d pay me my vacation time. I’d go buy a car with it. Or move. Or something. Pay someone to take care of Mom, anyway. Instead of worrying that I’m going to lose that time, lose that money, lose everything that was probably promised to me to compensate for other things I deserve that I’m not getting.

On the other hand, I wonder if 21 days away wouldn’t be the big fat dose of magic that would help me to transform my department, my career, even my life even outside of the ranch.

I read somewhere today that you have to motivate all your staff differently. Some want money. Some want status. Some want praise. Some want more work. Some want work/life balance. So we should cater to each individual.

But … what do you do for the one who wants it all … and who is running out of steam working for it?