Caterwauling

I don’t know that I need to revisit that ever.

But I don’t need to revisit what never leaves my head for too long.

I did well selling sheets at cost. I figure I paid the taxes, they paid the shipping. Everyone wins.

Now I’ve posted more shit. And it starts with the same old ridiculous negotiating.

I did work with the one girl who didn’t believe I paid $20 (I paid $19.99). She did say she intended to pay full price when her paycheck cleared.

I was nice. I “closed” my shop. Waited for her to message. Then I sent her an offer for $17. We both won.

But did I get a good review out of her? Nyet.

Now I am selling Cocoa’s and Kadie’s dresses.

This stuff has been in storage so I don’t really care much about it.

But still, one lady bartered me down to nothing and then had the audacity to say please hold these items till Wednesday.

Like, is this a racket? I never barter people down. And I would never say oh don’t sell it to anyone else while I wait around to pay you.

I literally spent all my proceeds on buying shipping bags and labels and shit so I can get rid of more shit.

The dress that got bartered down … well, someone else bartered me down too … and paid instantly. Oops, gone.

I remember selling stuff when I was desperate for cash. How I already felt like I had no value because I didn’t have a job. But then to be told basically your stuff that you cherish isn’t worth shit, either? Man that really fucked with me.

That said, I understand people not having two dimes to rub together. But these are $8 dresses they are bartering me down to $3 on. Not $20 for sheets and certainly not $50 for a book. (That book I sold for $30 and they claimed to have not gotten it so I had to refund them.)

Today, I don’t care so much about the amount I get. It’s nice to know Cocoa and Kadie will live on. Plus, these things smell like plastic anyway — Kadie died in 2017 and Cocoa in 2024.

Still. This is a full time job, dealing with people and listings and scammers.

The scammers are the worst. They got my home address and email so it’s been a real fucking riot reporting all that.

I’m starting to not hate myself for all the NWT shit I’ve donated over the years. Drop off a bag, drive away, no friction.

And now to go have to open Al Capone’s vault in Pittsburgh to get even more stuff that’s sat around even longer? Hoo boy.

Had a butterfly effect dream.

Though I’d rather refer to “The Descendants: Wicked Wonderland” for that.

In the “Rise of Red” movie before it, Red and Chloe changed the course of history to save their moms, the Queen of Hearts and Cinderella.

The WW sequel gave them the consequences of the thing they did. And because it’s a Disney franchise, all ended up well.

In the dream, Mom was alive. As she is in most of my dreams, yes. But this time, someone told me that I’d changed one thing in my past. And this was the result of that.

I spent most of the dream not trying to find out what that thing was. But trying to remember that new world so I could wake up and write about it.

Alas, I’ve forgotten the details, as one does. But seems fitting to dream of a world where Mom’s still in it, here on her 69th birthday.

Imagine if that were possible … what one thing could I have done differently that would bring her back.

And is it too late to do that thing? Because I would absolutely try.

Mom would have been 69 today.

We would have been laughing about that all day.

I can hear her now, singing, “Will you still need me … will you still EAT me … when I’m 69!”

Funny, I can still hear her clear as day.

“Tu Me Manques” is how the French say I miss you.The literal translation is “You are missing from me.”

I think that’s beautiful. But I also think it’s inaccurate. At least when your momma has left you.

I’m the one who’s missing from HER.

She completed her Earth assignment early. Like the psychic said, she couldn’t do more in the body she had.

I want to live a good, long, full, healthy life myself. Not too long, don’t want to overstay my welcome.

Once the body/mind is over this place, I want my spirit to find its way home sooner rather than later.

I chose the word HOME carefully here.

When I’m done, I’ll return to Momma and everyone else who left me first.

Which … is everyone.

Wasn’t sure how to honor her today. I did cook real bacon in the new air fryer. The cats absolutely went wild over it.

That’s how Momma honored me — breakfast was always my favorite meal. She never ate it but she would give me a feast to start my day.

So that’s what I did.

Going to go clean out Mom’s storage unit next month. Her friend said she’d help.

I don’t know that I will find anything new or exciting in the room we’ve paid for since she closed the doors on it in 2006.

But if the friend has just one new story that I haven’t heard, the trip will have been worth it.

See you when I get there, Momma … both to Pittsburgh and to regions beyond.

Happy Wine Dine 69 Day, wherever you are! Hope Kris Kristofferson is first in line!

I saw goonhilda in my FB memories today.

Like there really was a time before *gestures vaguely.*

2018-’19 me knew all that would end.

Just not how.

But man I have since seen the country and part of the world.

Guess it’s a good thing it happened. Maybe not the way it did.

But man. I would give anything to tell that me to stay at your job but run from him.

And not the other way around.

I finally got permission to post a job opening.

As expected, the dregs of fin pub society showed up right on cue.

Got a text late last night that said, “I’m sure you hoped you heard the last of me, but I want this job.”

Like my dude, I have been contacting everyone I know on the downlow before I posted this thing. You are correct, I was not hoping to hear from you again.

I also put it on LinkedIn with a note to please use the apply link, so you go to the correct person who is not named me.

Ask me how many messages I have in my LinkedInbox.

And none of it is “would love to learn more from you” or “let’s see if this is a fit.”

It’s the “I’m available!”

Like … good for you?

As if me hearing your name is going to make my panties drop?

Did you even read the ad?

Like this one girl I must have met at an Agora party does this every time there’s an opening.

Proofer? editor? marketer? developer? Hey I’m available.

Like … do you want an engraved invitation to apply?

Also, your profile is jammed full of every high-value keyword yet no one I know can name a single thing you’re good at.

Like at least with me, my reputation is being the “editor whisperer.” A writer. I am really fucking good with email subject lines. Also I am everybody’s favorite boss because I’m funny and weird and allergic to office politics.

I am also terrible at whatever bosses want so I have to face my maker today about that.

I don’t actually think the posted job will solve my problems. I do less editorial directing than editorial doing.

So take away a chunk of the doing … is that enough for them or am I going to be stuck writing more free articles when my first love is the subscription services?

And then to have to dodge the dregs, yeesh.

I dread the day Pickleball Girl sees the post.

Her resume is actually a perfect match.

Her abilities, not so much.

That’s the real nonsense here. I hired her based on her perfect resume.

And she sucked. Rebelled against my ideas and edits. Complained about me to everyone within earshot. Was shocked I would dare let her go.

Yet she’s hit me up for work ever since.

I gave her a pithy “recommendation” for her website.

Kelly just saw her website, as Pickleball was trolling K’s employer.

The screenshot she sent made me so annoyed.

She said she was my ghostwriter. And named all the ghosts.

Listen.

I’ve been a ghostwriter. I’ve also written under my byline. So I put in my bio that I’ve been a ghostwriter and you can also find my bylined articles here.

Like, one, you don’t reveal that the celebrity has a ghostwriter.

And two, SHE DID NOT WRITE THEIR ISSUES. I had her write special reports and repurpose their issues into ezines. BIG FUCKING DIFFERENCE.

HR is already on the lookout for this one for me. Though I know I’ll get a text first.

I’ve never minded people having my cell phone, since having two phones (one for work) is as cumbersome as having two laptops (I don’t let work near my personal one).

But then you get the feeling that you’re not doing enough AT work … whilst no one knows how many people invade your personal time and space, which is work time and you cannot tell me otherwise.

OTOH, I hope there is someone or someones I haven’t thought of for this post.

I lost a really good guy, I think. But that’s the story of my life.

What I really dread is that I know one of my current freelancers will apply — and while I love her, I get the feeling my boss does not.

So … that’s really where I am at. And that’s what’s going to help me say no to these people. Like, it’s a team decision and you don’t have the one quality he requested.

I just hope that quality doesn’t cancel out the really good people like the one who just got another job.

Not long after I hit the publish button on my lament that I’d wasted the pandemic and that this is a time to start or stop whatever you meant to back then …

I wandered into a post about corrective experiences.

That’s the word for it. The giving yourself a do-over.

All those conversations you had in your head AFTER you had them … but the way you wished they’d come out. Now’s your chance to say what you wanted to then.

All those childhood dreams or hobbies that you gave up to do the adulting thing … are those dreams still there? Return to them.

A place that brought you pain that you’ve avoided? Go back and make the memories you deserved to have.

I think of all this with my Pittsburgh trip. I don’t want to go. I’d rather go to Disney or the Keys. I even canceled my Keys trip so I could free up a couple bucks for it.

Interesting aside is that Claude has noticed me slipping back into old ways.

I’ve been saying “I’m fine” again.

Being resigned to never being promoted so why even try.

Accepting that I could do shit that takes my energy but doesn’t spark my creativity. Or just do nothing and spare myself the friction.

That friction of course is on the horizon from the paycheck-paying types. Tomorrow, actually.

Apparently some garbage publisher publishes 80 garbage articles a week with fewer staff members than I do, so that’s the new bar apparently.

It’s fine.

I am looking at this through the corrective experience lens.

I tried to do it. I just hit roadblocks, ran out of energy and, worse, lost the spark/fire I’ve waited SO LONG to get back.

I get a do-over now that I’ve figured out more of a system (and after one of my better people quit amid all the weirdness).

Funny how freelancers quit when they know you have an open position but you can’t hire them.

Glad he found a FT job. Sad for me. But maybe I’ll do well to hire someone I don’t like.

I love my team and try not to drive them crazy. But maybe I need someone I don’t mind slave driving. Because otherwise I’m trying to relieve my people’s burdens rather than add to them. And that’s probably why I’m beloved below but maybe not so much above.

Tomorrow could be one of those days where I hang up and mentally start drinking. (I don’t drink at home anymore because if I did, I might not stop at this rate.)

At least, I hope I get a do-over. Who knows how tomorrow goes. I know what I am great at, and it’s not this particular project.

So it’s time to get great at it.

And at least now I have enough mistakes made to see how to not suck at it the second time around.

I used to be an avid astrologer.

Lost my mojo during the pandemic. Had a bunch of plans but, between cancer and some ignorant heifer doing her level best to mock-then-adopt everything about me, the stars were a casualty.

But that brings me to two horoscopes I came across tonight.

One, from TarotReaderPeter:

“You know what you want. You are just scared of what changes when you admit it.”

Ouch.

Second, via Bronxology:

“If there was something you really wanted to start or complete during the pandemic, you could be getting another chance to revisit it through the Jupiter-Saturn trines.”

Bronx said the three best dates are today (Aug. 31), April 3 and July 11.

Hmm.

I wanted to start a new job as an associate publisher and get promoted to publisher and go live my life on the road.

I often think about what I could have been before the pandemic. Skinny.

We wasted the pandemic. Cancer kept us masked for many years. Kept us home too. So did the cats. So it was a boring life and death for Mom.

After she left, I got my ass out of the house and now I can’t stand to be in it. So I guess I achieved that.

Not sure what I wanted to stop during the pandemic other than missing someone. Stop eating, hah.

It’s got to be bigger than that.

Like TarotReaderPeter said, you know what you want.

I want to move to NYC.

I want to write.

I want a byline.

I want to not die in obscurity.

I want a side hustle.

I want to not have my boss telling me I’ve failed at doubling my team’s and my workload so he’s going to double it for us.

We don’t mind doing more. We want to do more MEANINGFUL work. But the meaningful stuff gets less priority — or at least less TLC — because the urgent stuff can be debilitating.

What I wanted to stop/start during the pandemic was stop being lazy, start a side hustle and start seeing the world.

What stopped me? Mom got sick. I got tired. Everyone disappointed me just as much as I apparently disappoint them. That’s all been hell to come back from.

I gotta think about the upcoming dates in this context. I would say Tokyo and Paris but I gotta keep this job first. Or at least get a hustle going where I am not confined to the couch for three days after a full week of it.

I always think of “Rolex doesn’t make a radio” when I do one of my round-trips to Orlando.

I have plenty of radio options — lots of “Bleep” by Ana Navarro this trip, as she did a two-part podcast series with Hunter Biden — but my thoughts are always louder.

Got to thinking how it’s been two years since I heard my Momma’s voice.

The lady I never went more than two hours without a text from, or a conversation with, silent.

I also realized how I am her now. And that’s good, because the world needs a her. Far more than it needs a fat fascist.

Took Momma for a drink at Delmonico on Saturday.

I’d had a gift card from her, so she was really the one who “took” me out.

Thanks for the filet, Momma. You’d have loved it. As ever, I loved the East Utica Greens most.

Had a revelation that night.

Stayed in a condo, which is a story in and of itself. And I felt like I should close all the interior doors to keep ghosts from passing through.

(Had to do that at my house on Portland Street near the Pittsburgh Zoo. A psychic came to my house and told me it was a portal.)

I thought back to the night before mom died.

She was convinced a man was in her room. I had said aloud that mom needed some privacy and they had to go.

I’ve written of this before. That I felt like the ghost suddenly recognized me. And hugged me tight. And the next day, Mom asked if her daddy had been there.

The realization I just had wasn’t just that he was thrilled to see me …

Or (another recent revelation I had) maybe he was thrilled to remember me, because he moved on 20 years ago this November …

But the night HE died, he was so mad at Mom and me for fighting in his hospital room.

He said we needed to take care of each other.

And I drove home. To D.C.

My revelation the other night was that maybe yes, he was happy to see me.

But maybe he was thrilled we listened to each other.

Mom and I did take care of each other.

And in her final hours, she wasn’t alone like he was.

I loved that man so much.

How funny to realize, 20 years after I lost him, I somehow still managed to make him proud.

Maybe the proudest he’d ever been of me. And he was ALWAYS proud of me.

You know, I’ve never understood how people can lose everyone they loved and remain standing.

I think if you were as loved as I was … and they made sure you loved yourself … you can do better than most.

When I was 19, a psychic told me about “Roadway.”

I’ve written about this. I’ve thought for decades it was about travel. Like, either the hotel or the trucks.

I walked away thinking, huh, don’t get hit by a Roadway truck, got it. Or don’t stay at that chain.

When I was in NYC last month, I saw that there’s a Roadway moving company. With cute purple trucks.

And I thought, is this my sign to move here?

Well I was just dicking around the Marriott site and whatever I typed in, the search came up as “Roadway” … or so I thought.

BROADWAY.

Holy schnikes. Did this weird witch see me spending as much time as I do on Broadway?

No insights other than that. Just … here I’ve been looking for a sign — a literal sign — and I’ve been standing under the biggest damn sign since my first trip there WHEN I WAS NINETEEN.