Caterwauling

I have this very clear memory of being about 5 years old, at our little rowhouse in the ghetto (*deep sigh*), planting apple seeds in hopes of growing an apple tree from them.

I very distinctly recall an invisible being — a spirit guide, if you will — coming up to me and hovering around my left side as I dug in the dirt. (Something I wasn’t allowed to do, but oh well.) He asked me a question that to this day manages to disturb me when I think about it.

The spirit wanted to know that, if I had my choice and had to hurt, would I rather it be physical or emotional?

Maybe I was older than five, or maybe he used words I would have understood at the time, since that’s a loaded question at my current age. But I must have recently gotten a gash or a bruise, because I remember saying, “In my mind, so nobody sees it!”

(My family did not like me doing anything that would result in me being less than perfect. I’m guessing that’s where THAT shit stems from.)

The spirit said OK and left me. I forgot about it till a few years ago. And I often wonder not only why I had to choose, but did I choose correctly?

I think I did. I like having functioning limbs, although the diminished mental capacity from the clusterfuck that is my life hasn’t exactly done wonders for my well-being. I’m tired of being hurt, exhausted, unhappy, frustrated and always longing for something that’s … I dunno … NOT THIS.

I’ve had plenty of interactions with the spirit world since then. No psychic revelations, unfortunately — I’d be too happy to get those. (Dear Higher Self, when am I going to get a job? Please I will give anything to get out of this HELL that we call freelancing. Oh my GOD please make the pain and non-paying clients just STOP already.)

Worth a shot, eh?

I probably made the whole thing up in my head, but I remember everything about the scene. And for what it’s worth, I don’t have it so bad. But it needs to get better from here. I can’t accept any alternatives to that. Spirit guides, let’s go easy on the questions next time and go a little heavier on telling me what I SHOULD be doing, OK?

Two nights ago, I had the best dream. I had sat down in a restaurant, looked to my left, and saw my grandfather waving at me. I had enough sense in my head to jump up and hug him and tell him how much I love him.

I awoke shortly afterward. I said a little prayer, thanking God for the dream and for being present in it enough to hug him. I haven’t dreamed of him since he left us five years ago. This was good. I was happy. I also thanked God for taking care of him, my grandmother (it was her birthday, oddly enough), my great-grandma and my kitty.

Today when my alarm went off (at 5 a.m. I’ve been working for 12 hours and have a couple more to go), it was a different story today. I was startled, scared and sick. I had a premonition that I immediately told my mom about when she woke up.

The premonition came true just a couple hours later.

I was just typing the other day about hideous, evil, awful people that “You don’t deserve what you have, but you’ll deserve what you get.” Well, I must be burning off a firey fuckball of bad karma, because today should have been victorious, but it all went *poof* in seconds.

I know life isn’t fair. But allow me a few minutes of pity party here. I try SO HARD. I am as good a person as I can be, and certainly better than most. And it really chaps mah coochie when everybody else is at least appearing to be doing so much better.

I wrote an blog awhile back on trade-offs. Like, I really want to go murder the Evil Landlady for all the repairs she gleefully ignores. But I can’t be kicked out because I don’t have a job to go get a new place. Or any money to pay for it, for that matter. *arches eyebrow*

I cried most of today. And I just finally canceled my Weight Watchers membership. I thanked them for the success and the couple good years they gave me. But oh well. Maybe some other time I’ll get to take care of me again. Load up the Waaaaahhhhmbulance.

Right now I’m in the rut of “college and working hard really DOESN’T mean success, but thanks though!”

God, I know You pick people like me to test us. And I know Your kingdom will be way nicer than this rathole that I’m grateful to have because a leaky roof is better than NONE AT ALL. It’s just … I felt like I had my joy, that no one or nothing could take it away. And today, I can’t seem to find it where I left it last.

I know I pride myself on not asking much of the universe. But maybe if I did, it wouldn’t hurt so much when I get shortchanged.

#SadPanda

Yesterday was not a bad day. Today, however, will be because I was so exhausted/frustrated I didn’t have any energy for my other jobs.

Yeah, my new project? Is going to be the death of me. My half-time “job” — which kept me busy about a quarter of the time, at best — is going to be a near-full-time excursion.

Can haz razor blades?

I gave up around 4 p.m. yesterday — had to get the car out of the shop anyway. And stayed far from the computer afterward.

Oh, the car. It actually sounded really bad as the mechanic was running it. I didn’t want to part with the beaucoup bucks I was quoted over the phone. But he did well and explained why it still sounds like a rattling deathtrap. And I have to say, driving it was almost like having a brand-new car. The violent shaking is gone. Whee!

He had told me he was terrified, driving my car on the road test. I would have called him a pussy had I not seen the crucifix hanging over the door. 😉 But he was impressed that it still has all its original parts … and even that some of them still work!

Anyway, yesterday was not a total fail, but I had a migraine from hell and pretty much retreated to my “couch-and-iPad” happy place for the duration.

Today I hope to have time for my side project that makes me happy, since that was where Tuesdays USED to go. But I did get a message about the new project that it would also consume my day today. I almost cried.

It’s funny — over the years I’ve had every combination of either liking the people, liking the work, both or neither. This time, I dig the people but the work is not what dreams are made of. Too bad for all those jobs where the people were assholes when I liked what I was doing. Maybe I would have done it better had I been treated with a modicum of respect. Of course, what can you expect from a workplace? Not much. Not much at all…

Oh well. If I go ballistic and quit and have to end up living in my car, at least I know it will safely get me to the Keys…

I would never make Steve Jobs run for president. I like him too much. I respect his innovations. And if the man needs to take a sick leave, let him do it. Lord knows our president probably hasn’t slept since he started campaigning for his crazy job. Brilliance requires rest.

Now that said, the esteemed Mr. Jobs needs to head up a finance committee in the legislative arm of his choice, seeing as though Apple ($AAPL) has more cash than the U.S. government.

Now, he’s a smart one, that Steve. Apple isn’t doing much differently from its early days. It just employs a lot more people in a lot more places. But the “think tank” that keeps cranking out the “Oh my God I’ve GOT to have it!” products (says she who is contemplating whether having the new MacBook is more important than rent. Just assure me that it will ship with Lion, and that answer is YES!) is still strategically issuing its brilliance at full price to a growing cult of worshipers.

It gives me pause to say the stock is still a steal here at $400, since you won’t catch me being able to buy much more than a call contract or two. I don’t think this name is the next Berkshire Hathaway, but I do think it’s going to hold its own in this range for the intermediate term.

Everyone wonders whether AAPL is going to issue a dividend, what with all that cash in the bank. And all I have to say is, “Yeah, right!”

What Jobs gets right, that our legislators never will, is spending money on the right things and letting the rest go. Everyone who’s crying (not-so-subtle Boehner reference) that the space program has been abandoned, or that the couple million that goes to a bunch of social programs should be eliminated before, say, Steve Jobs himself pays a cent more in taxes, ought to look at Apple’s business model before drafting up the next round of spending cuts.

At Apple, you don’t have customers — you have fanatics. You don’t have buyers — you have people who camp out all night just to be the first to pay full retail price. You don’t have investors — you have people who need this stock even if they still cling to their tattered-after-two-years PCs.

You have to spend money to make money, but paying a dividend isn’t necessary to bring in more money. Steve Job pays the top minds in technology to keep him on top. Congress pays a nice salary to a bunch of mildly qualified people (in addition to the truly brilliant legislators, who are unfortunately far outnumbered) and sure doesn’t cut THEIR health care even as they threaten to take away yours. Let’s weed out the waste, starting with our Congress critters themselves, and treat America as the high-quality product it is. And that includes taxing its highest-paid citizens at the same rate as the rest of us. Apple doesn’t give away its products, and nobody’s holding their breath waiting for them to go on sale. Nor should our country be on sale, either.

Maybe if we put Jobs in charge of one of the finance committees, that would finally convince Obama to get rid of his damn BlackBerry already?

Cotton candy colored clouds and ocean

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Because I’d like to write something more intelligent than “argh,” “ack,” “pfft,” “bleargh” or “waaa-waaaaaah!” (i.e., Debbie Downer music), here’s life in a nutshell.

Note that I stole quite a few of these lines from somewhere else. Because, hey, if they said it better, who the hell am I to change perfection?

Aimed at no one in particular, since most of them won’t see this anyway.

1. I listen to every song you post on your wall. And download the very few I don’t already own.

2. “Every time you walk in the room
I could never be sure of a smile
You were never the same way twice
I’m falling in love, night after night
And it’s crazy.” — Blue Rodeo, “Try”

3.a. “Tomorrow you’ll realize what I’m worth. And I’ll be with the guy who realized it yesterday.” My favorite Twitterfeed, The Notebook

3.b. Same source: “Don’t wait for the right person to come into your life. Be the right person to come into someone else’s life.”

3.c. And again: “The only 3 things a guy should wanna change about his girl is her last name, her address and her viewpoint on men.”

3.d. One more time, with feeling: “I’m currently making some changes in my life. If you don’t hear from me anymore, you’re probably one of them.”

4. “If God meant the day to be perfect, then he wouldn’t have invented tomorrow.” — Girlfriend Facts feed

5. “If you see me out on the town
And it looks like I’m burning it down
You won’t ask and I won’t say
But in my heart I’m always somewhere with you.” – Kenny Chesney, “Somewhere With You”

6. Do people really believe their own B.S.? I promise, if you say something enough times, it still doesn’t make it true.

7. I’m changing all my passwords to “incorrect” — so that I when I can’t remember, my computer tells me “your password is incorrect.” (Can’t take credit for this but can’t remember where I got it!)

8. “Imagine a cool mountain stream. The air is crisp and the water is so clean you can clearly see the face of the person who is annoying you below the surface.” — The illustrious, incredible Silver Blue

9. My soul’s value ain’t on clearance, and my heart ain’t gonna be waiting at the store for you when you come back. Pay up or step off.

10. Hey Prince Charming, I know Google Maps sucks, you’re lost and you’re too proud to ask for directions. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come rescue YOU.

Any other words to live by to offer a girl?

Simone Hemingway

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

This is my six-toed (on each paw) buddy Simone, who I met at the Hemingway House in Key West. She reminds me of my Maddie, and I wanted to stick her in my bag and bring her home.

So it’s been a month since the “It’s not you, it’s me — oh, wait, it’s you” speech. I’ve spent a lot of time searching my soul for what went wrong and how not to find myself in the same situation next time around. Somehow, I think giving me time to reflect is the worst punishment of all. 🙂

And punishment for what, exactly? My mom is one of those people who assumes she deserves whatever poop on a platter the universe is serving up. Yet I’ve never met a nicer person than her, you know? Like, why would anyone feel that ordering a gyro and getting a shit sandwich instead feel like there must be a reason for that? Oh hell no — it is our birthright to be happy. So, send that bitch back and bring me what I ordered!

The last time I found myself job-free, as the months turned into MANY months, I started to feel that way, though. That damn, I must be a real asshole for the universe to keep punishing me with the prospect of losing what little I had. And I don’t want to ever succumb to that feeling again.

That said, while I wouldn’t say I deserve anything bad, I finally have insight into how things came to be.

I was watching Joel Osteen last night. It blows to be home on a Friday but, hey, a girl’s gotta conserve her resources. And while I was just looking for a fuzzy-wuzzy feel-good message, I got knocked off the couch with something he said.

He was speaking specifically about the workplace, and gave the example of having a crazy supervisor who makes your life difficult. But if you don’t hang in there and let that experience change you, then you will go to another job with TWO crazy people, not just one.

And I snickered at that. Because I see the truth in it. You think you’re running away but then you get a heaping dose.

But that was something I struggled with when I left the Den of Iniquity. At what point do you dig in your heels and wait for God to show you why He put you there, and when do you cry “Uncle!” and run away from the disturbed uncle who keeps psychologically molesting you?

For me, I fell silent at the Den for my final months there. After I dared to question Elvis on why he did something so incredibly stupid that he did, and I got roared at (and lied to) for five solid hours, I stopped asking questions. I slipped out quietly and started my new life.

At my “new life,” I didn’t want to be silent anymore. I was quiet, sure, but based on past experience, I only wanted to be part of battles that I had a chance of winning.

It occurred to me last night when the battle lines got drawn. I can pinpoint that very moment. What I thought was full disclosure turned out to be a choice I couldn’t undo. What others cheered me for, was my undoing.

I don’t blame anybody for that. I can’t. I just wish that I would have spoken up more, if this was how it was going to turn out. I am not sure exactly what God wanted me to learn, but I always felt that I was there to help change others. I guess I failed Him there, too.

Anyway, with all this time to think, my worries are all over the place. I worry about money, sure. Who doesn’t? But moreover, I fear that whatever unresolved baggage I’m left with from the last time around will haunt me next time, the way I never expected the last luggage set to appear at my doorstep once I moved on.

I guess what’s different this time around is that I’ve at least had a chance to analyze, and compartmentalize, so that when I stick this suitcase on the shelf once and for all, I’ll travel light to my next destination.

Home

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Just chugging some coffee so I’m awake for the drive to Key West today.

Palm Beach ain’t so bad, though. I’ve been looking at apartments in various cities, and I realize I’m quite in love with where I am, thank you very much. Screw anyone who tries to take that away.

It’s the losing of the health insurance that has me nuts now. That everyone else can keep buying haircuts and handbags while I am begging CVS to let me fill my prescriptions now and not on Jan. 10 when they’re due again. (No luck. Boo.)

Oh well. I’m going to run away to the Keys and maybe never come back. My idea of a coffeehouse/wine bar/Italian pastry shop may come true yet. Just give me a shack on the beach, and I can make it work from there.

Mom said I should go by myself, since I cannot stand being around her every second of every day. But I wouldn’t have spent the (way too much) money on this trip if it wasn’t a Christmas present for her. I told her, look, I’m used to running away from home at every opportunity. Now we are breathing the same air 24/7 and it’s Day 3 together and I’m ready to blow out my brains. But we are going to have to work together to get through this, so if you can just (for once) respect my space while I’m at home, then that’s the only way this will work. But don’t martyr yourself over a damn vacation.

I’ve decided that the only thing that will make me feel better is to fuck someone else’s husband. I have a very short list. To quote the beautiful Nicole Kidman in “Practical Magic,” “Hang on to your husbands, ladies! I’m back!”

LOL. Not that I want to compromise my karma. But I am allowing myself an evil thought or three to get me through the night. 😉

This truly was the best year of my life. It was also the worst. Next year isn’t starting off the way I wanted it to. But it sure as hell isn’t going to end like this one, either. And that right there is something to toast when the drag queen drops onto Duval Street tonight. …

So, today I:

1. Got my site migrated AND un-fucked up from a recent hacking, thanks to the AMAZING team at Blog Wranglers. Did I mention it was quick and painless and they are the nicest guys around? You should have Blog Wranglers migrate your site. Seriously. They rock. True Web geniuses, I tell you!

2. Updated my resume. And reaffirmed the fact that I managed to achieve a lot in a very short time frame. Or, tried like hell to. 🙂

3. Realized that I have some absolutely amazing friends and mentors who will always have my back. God was extra-good to me in this regard, and I thank Him profusely for it.

4. Got some cool stuff in the mail that I was afraid I would never receive.

5. Do not have a job to go to anymore.

Hmm.

Yeah.

Not sure what else to say about that.

I’d love to say “it’s all good” and believe that I will indeed be thankful someday. (Today is not that day, however.)

But really, when you look at the (very abbreviated) list of what happened today (and that ain’t even the half of it), you see that four out of five items are blessings. And maybe so will the fifth, one day.

All I have to say is that karma pays it back to some people, and pays it forward to others.

And I guess my karma has been pretty pristine, because at a time when I could be freaking the fuck out, I’m OK. The universe has my back. I can not only feel it, but I can see it plain as day.

Better days are coming. Don’t count me out just yet. My success story is still a work in progress. But maybe everyone is right and that this is the kick in the ass I needed to get back on the right track.

Maybe it’s time to write that book. Since I have quite a lot to say. And it deserves the proper forum. Look out, Patrick Lencioni. Your biggest fan is ready to record her own story!

Right after I go to Key West for the New Year, of course. Damn non-refundable trip that I didn’t purchase the “job loss” insurance for. *facepalm* Oh well. Nothing like ringing in the new year from my happy place to ensure that I bring in 2011 with nothing but joy and anticipation.

(I’m hoping this all doesn’t fuck up my Paris trip.)

But mark my words, Lady L and I will be toasting with champagne at this time next year in New Orleans. And laughing at how silly 2010 was and thank God we never have to feel again the way we felt during that crazy year we spent in Florida.

I just spent the past 12 hours with my favoritest person on earth. We shopped. We ate cheese. We drank mojitos, margaritas, wine and coffee. I got a book on Paris. And we had beignets.

The only thing that could ruin the day is, you guessed it, a call from the UEOEH.

I do feel bad for the woman. She left a VM saying she didn’t know where I was (!), and asking me to pick up Motrin. She sounded like she was in a type of pain that said pills would probably barely touch.

That was, hmm, eight or nine hours ago. I had left her $20 and there’s a store across the bridge. Walking distance, I say.

Naturally she scares the hell out of me, per usual, by appearing as I’m in the kitchen. With a small voice and the most-pathetic face ever, she asked if I brought her Motrin. I explained that I was nowhere near a “real” store (first it was mall-a-palooza; then it was chilling in an apartment). And I asked, rhetorically of course, “You mean you’ve been in pain all day and didn’t do anything about it?”

So she went to her room.

This is pretty typical of the passive-aggressiveness in this house. It’s all MY fault that she spent the day in pain. Because she was too ill to go out. Or she couldn’t pull it together long enough to hit Walgreens. And I’m mean and nasty because I didn’t accommodate.

Or, let’s put this into context, shall we … she doesn’t get her driver’s license, thus providing her proof of residency in Florida, so she can get HEALTH COVERAGE. Because even though I’ve given her money for the driver’s license a million times, she doesn’t feel well and really, let’s face it, I’d bet my next paycheck that it will take me taking her to the DMV to get that damn license for her.

Look, I’m not a heinous individual. I do have sympathy.

But I was also the asshole whose gangrene-infested appendix burst when I lived alone in Virginia and I drove my own damn self to the hospital and my family NEVER visited me. I had my wisdom teeth yanked and I was the bleeding, shivering mess in the CVS, waiting for my antibiotics. I was the one with the carving knife and no turkey on Thanksgiving, with the unending hopelessness of being broke/unemployed for months (and no one left to save me), and I somehow scraped my rock-bottom, suicidal ass off the floor and fought my way back to the land of the living and working.

In other words, don’t tell ME about having problems.

And this is why she expects me to not just help, but downright BABY her. Because, as she says, I’m strong and resourceful and incorrigible. That she needs someone to fight for her.

But who the fuck fought for me? I mean, really. I’m not saying anybody owed me anything; I’m just saying that it was my drive, my ambition and, quite honestly, the friends/connections I made who got me where I am. And as I’ve been telling her for years, show me some damn spunk already. She hasn’t shown spunk since 1974 when she had me.

Get your own Motrin. Get your damn license and I’ll help you fill out the paperwork for healthcare. Get a fucking job and I’ll help you move out. Get out of my personal space and I’ll invite you into it once in a while.

What scares me is that whatever’s wrong with her is fixable. And that I’ll lose her to it, only to learn that had she only done X, she would have lived a happy and healthy life.

But she’s like the hypochondriacal woman in Key West whose epitaph reads, “I told you I was sick.” Not, “I tried everything to save myself” but, instead, “It’s everyone else’s fault.” SMH.

Anyway, as usual, way to ruin another wonderful day, lady.

A friend’s little girl started kindergarten today, and it reminded me of my first day of school back in, oh, 1979.

I was so thrilled to get away from my crazy family, you couldn’t hold me back. I took the schoolbus (a long one, thanks!) and was on my merry little way. LOVED it.

I learned later that my mom and grandfather had trailed the bus, parked at the school and hid behind another parked car so that they could watch me.

They were shocked that I didn’t even look around. My whole life, I’m pretty convinced that they just could not believe the fact that I didn’t really NEED them. And that day was the first of thousands just like it — I just strutted straight up to the building and went to Miss Ashenbaugh’s room (Room 1 — I’ll never forget that) like I owned the damn place.

Other kids were clinging to their parents, who dropped them off. I had opted NOT to be dropped off. I seriously must have just been ready to get the fuck away from those people. Truly. I was so deprived of social contact as a wee one that ANY chance for escape was to be seized immediately, if not sooner.

Even today, I am a good 1,500 miles away from where I grew up, and I’m STILL trying to outrun the last of them! Why the hell doesn’t my mother GET it that the more you chase me, the faster I run away?