Caterwauling

Well I keep getting billed for this site. Might as well use it.

I think the last we all spoke was when I was between two job offers. I had taken a Faceypages poll amongst the non-tRump voters (because I only wanted folks whose judgment I trust) whether to stay or go.

Overwhelmingly, everyone said RUN LIKE YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE.

One random voice I hadn’t even expected to pipe up said stay. I owe her a thank-you. BIG TIME.

I had presented all this to my boss at the time, for all of the five minutes that I reported to her before SHE left.

And she’s like, ya know. Maybe that lone voice has a point.

I woke up the day I was supposed to confirm I was leaving. I said OK, I’ll stay. I cried the WHOLE DAMN DAY.

But … the crying stopped. It really did turn out OK.

And even if it hadn’t, I’m still better off.

My second suitor just had a layoff.

Read: I would be OUT ON THE STREETS AGAIN had I gone there.

I would love to know whether he feels terrible that I would have given up what turned out to be a pretty great gig, only to be fookayayed up one side and down the other without a trace of lube in sight, had I accepted (and taken him up on) his offer.

This has messed me up seven ways to Sunday.

I mean, I am SO LUCKY and I know it. SO lucky.

But honestly, if not for my friend/neighbor-type Kim planting that wee seed of doubt, I would have frolicked right the fuck into a horrible situation.

And really, if not for my then-boss pounding my worth into their heads where I’m at, I wouldn’t have had the choice in the first place.

Thank God. Just, thank God and the angels and my spirit guides and my ancestors and whoever guided my hand when I sent the email where I said yes to the dress and no to the rest.

Girl power, man.

And Hillary voters.

We know what to do. 🙂

No I didn’t lose weight. But my friend count is down by five. YEAH! Love it when the trash takes itself out. Now if those who blame Obama and Hillary for the orange asshole’s policies would realize that it’s spelled T-R-U-M-P, I might regain a little faith in humanity. Or, at least, in spell check.

Editor’s note: I wrote this 2018/05/13. Not sure if it will retain that date when I hit publish. My webhost is asking me to migrate my data and suggested putting up a new post. So I am putting up a new “old” post that’s been in draft mode since I think it’s OK to acknowledge this very cool thing that’s happening.

Ah, Taylor Swift. Never stop writing about your life at the exact same time it applies to mine.

Has it been a month already since I blogged behind the curtain? I write blogs in my head almost every day. I miss the actual blogging that I haven’t done since March.

But then I think of the one who analyzes every word — and misinterprets every last one of them to fit his own twisted narrative. What is sad that there is actually more than one. And none can leave well enough alone.

Maybe I’ll slip and hit publish. Or not. Honestly, having exactly zero connection to him … and to a whole bunch of others … has been sort of heavenly.

I have plenty of friends who have noticed their lost connection to me here. But it seems there are plenty more who get their gossip this way. And every goddamned one of them thinks that any vague statement I make is about them personally, rather than as a collective.

Yeah, maybe I WON’T hit that publish button after all.

In any event, the quiet has been good for me. Met a nice boy and figured if he hit the Google online jackpot, he’d land here and I REALLY didn’t want to have any recent posts up here. I might or might not have Googled him and learned a whole lot too. But to be fair, I did stop when I learned enough.

It was mostly good stuff, though. Interviews he’s done, articles he’s published, a book (!) he’s shopping around. I found me a literate one!

I did stop the Googling, though, because it’s not like that. It’s cool. It’s fun. It’s light. It could turn into something or it couldn’t. And I know it will be fine either way.

That’s a little different for me. There are people I’ve never written a syllable about here because I was SO HOPING they were everything I’d been waiting (a very long time) for.

Now, enh. That tick-tock of the biological clock is abating. I’m turning 44 (!) next week. It would be a medical marvel if I not only could physically bear a child, but imagine myself wanting one even now.

I know he has other entanglements. As do I. But I don’t think enough to trip either of us up.

He’s pretty. God, I do find some pretty ones. Likes a good sexy car too. Liberal. Voted for Hillary. So basically, “my type.”

I don’t know that it goes any deeper than that. But to quote the immortal — and newly inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame — Jon Bon Jovi, “Don’t bore us; get to the chorus”:

“Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you’re in my head?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate (delicate)
Is it cool that I said all that
Is it too soon to do this yet?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate
Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it?
Delicate.”

“Write the ache,” my playwright friend says.

I went six weeks without writing here. Perhaps due to lack of ache. More likely, due to not wanting one.

Today I turn the age that coincides with the number of the last legitimate president this country had.

It’s been a week of celebrations and sugar skull themed gifts from my beloveds.

A week of royal wedding themed treats and new restaurants and a well earned (half) day off.

A week of wine and the world’s best cake and key lime pie.

The only thing that would make today better would be an indictment from the Mueller camp.

I’d love to say I want to write more, but I really don’t. I was inspired at a young age by the Transcendentalists, that the unexamined life isn’t worth living. But you know what? Spending less time examining and more time enjoying it ain’t so bad.

Seeya on the flipside. Maybe.

There’s a reason why I quit folks cold turkey. So they get the hint quickly.

Most don’t. Some never will. But anytime I start to feel bad about it, I am reminded of why I didn’t want them around anymore.

Wish they’d all just see how lovely the distance is.

“I used to be a writer,” I said to my fellow director. “Before all this.”

To be fair, I did some writing today. It was fun.

It’s all good, really.

I realized that I hadn’t written anything here in two weeks. Not for lack of anything to say. It’s just that I’ve been … fine.

I got to talking with a gal who’s leaving the company tomorrow. I opted to take over the most-important part of her job. It’s huge and too much to train me on in just a few days.

But really, there’s no one else … and certainly no one else I’d trust as much to handle what is, in effect, the life blood of what it is we do.

She and I got to talking about how, for both of us, everything is fine. Which generally means, oh shit.

Nothing is wrong? Really, nothing AT ALL is wrong?

Time to panic!

Well, panic later. Enjoy now.

I really am enjoying the peace. And trying really hard to just be grateful for how good things are, and not wonder when it’s all going to change. Maybe this time, it will stay fine for a good, long while …

Mom keeps having dreams that I’m involved with my 10-years-younger hot mechanic. (OK, he did ask me out but I wasn’t sure what to make of it.)

I dreamed of someone I don’t think about. Who flares up ‘roid-like to project their own weaknesses onto me. But it was an educational dream, as others in said dream could explain something to me I didn’t realize on my own all these years.

I don’t think I have intimacy issues. Just haven’t met a man who’s spent 40 years working on himself and becoming a better person the way I’ve sure tried to do.

Secondarily, I do see all the deadbeats mom wasted her time with. And relatedly, having mom move in wasn’t the best thing for my social life. Her choices, and their effects, shape my life — and change my choices — even now.

But the dream showed I do have intimacy battle scars. I don’t want anyone in my space who can turn on me and try repeatedly to ruin me. I got that souvenir T-Shirt in quite a few colors, thanks.

It all makes sense as I try to fit the Parkland shooting into my head somehow.

Now, I look around the office, movie theaters, stores and open spaces — wondering who’s the likeliest to be packing and, more importantly, whose light they’d snuff out first.

And I don’t want to die or have my career at risk again because someone feels they are entitled to taking something away from me. To punish me for doing well or protecting myself or just being lucky.

I don’t know that I’m as strong as my Stoneman Douglas neighbors. Not anymore. But I’ll take lucky. May that luck continue to outlast and overpower any darkness that dares entertain heading this way.

I dreamed of Sia last night. Kadie got out of the house again. (Seriously, her tiny ass always bolts down the hallway when I come home. I once had a neighbor return her because I didn’t even see her leave.)

There was a knock at the door in the dream, and there was Sia — petting Kates and making her purr. I was so relieved. Said thank God you were the one who found her. Stay as long as you like.

Katie woke me up from that dream at 4 a.m. Late for her, as she gravitates to 3:30 a.m. I never go back to sleep. But, story for another day there.

In any event, funny that I’d dream of Sia (finally, after a year and a half) on Grampy’s 92nd birthday.

He used to play in a band. But Mom mentioned today something I never knew. That he and his buddies would play at retirement homes on their off-nights, when they didn’t have a paying gig.

I didn’t think it was possible to love him more. But yeah, I do.

Sending my love to heaven. Today, and always.

When I was told in November that my job was eliminated, I joked that I’d still keep showing up to work — either at the current place or the company that was buying our assets — in hopes that eventually they’d start paying me.

Me and my little red stapler down in Storage Room B.

So it’s only fitting that I moved into a new office on Tuesday. An office that used to be our storage room.

It’s official. Forget being Viola. I am Milton Waddams.

To be fair, the office had already been cleared out a week earlier for the owner. It’s pretty nice, actually. Spacious and with a wall of windows.

He decided I should have it.

Yesterday he came looking for me. He was so pleased to see me in there. Said he loved how I arranged it. Said I deserved it.

He also thanked me for a project I rushed through earlier in the day. I said no problem; you made it easy. He said, well, you make everything easy.

It was a nice moment. And in that moment, I was happy I decided to stay.

I’m done debating and going 10 rounds on my latest Major Life Decision. But I have one last thing to say on the topic …

When we sold my company to another company, they interviewed each of us and came up with a shortlist of who would be hired. Out of 50 people eligible, they only took five.

I learned this week that there was actually a sixth name on every iteration of that list.

Mine.

I was wondering. I used to work there. My interviews went well. There was really no reason why they wouldn’t scoop me up. I knew which division I wanted to go to (back to D.C., if you can believe it) and there was really no reason why they didn’t make me a formal offer.

I figured it was because LVP was badmouthing me. But I got it on good authority that getting a good reference from that one might have been more harmful than a bad one.

Then it dawned on me that the other company’s rejection came at the same time I was invited to stay where I am.

Coincidence? Not a chance.

My boss had the power to set everyone’s start dates at the new gig. I’m sure he had the power to make sure I never got offered one at all.

Pretty tricky. I like it.

Look, I’ll never stop having a lot to say about all the decision-making I’ve felt the brunt of, this past year. But I am going to stop saying it, starting today. This is it.

Yesterday would have been my last day there. I consider Tuesday to be my start date. Which, technically, it is.

I wouldn’t say everything changes. But I’m officially a big boss now. And I have a whole lot of people looking toward me for inspiration. Not the least of which is the big boss himself.

There’s a rumor going around that I never had another opportunity — that this was all some sort of stunt. Whether it was on his part to sell me as a leader, or on my part to get power. No one knows. But they sure do like to talk.

My guess is the boss never believed I would walk. And maybe the others with an opinion are jealous. But as a fellow director said to me, thank God you stayed. You care. They figure only good can come from that.

Now I start my new career and life. I celebrated with a new iPhone for me and a new Samsung for Mom. And I’ll celebrate further by moving us away from the ignorant cunt upstairs. And, if I can hang around long enough, look out Paris — I’m coming for you.

I hope it will all be worth it. At the very least, I am finally at peace with it.