Caterwauling

Mr. Dorsey sent one of his roundup emails this morning.

I was tempted to react.

Instead, I’m gonna beam some love today.

Nothing else has worked. And frankly it helps me as much as the recipient.

Actually, more.

A lot more.

Spirit’s Messenger dreamed she threw a punch and said, “You can’t troll with swollen eyes.”

She’s still love and light.

She can be more than one way.

She’s a Gemini, after all.

I unfollowed a friend on social media whose significant other rubs me the wrong way. 

Not sure if it’s the psychic in me or what, but I violently distrust the guy. I had a vision of him leaving my friend to die and inheriting a very nice fortune. 

Alas, my friend is happy. And with nothing more than a really bad feeling to go on, I had to mute what appears to my third eye as a one-sided sham. 

Then there’s another friend. I still follow him but his chickie annoys me on every  level. 

It hits me that I’ve been feeling bad for my friend. And the reality is, I’m disappointed. Not in him. Just in some events. 

I thought my friend was perfect all these years. And fine, he’s fallible. I forgive that, because he’s an upstanding dude the other 99% of the time. 

But it feels like a series of decisions — which I know are none of my business — that just leaves me sad. 

For the longest time, I’ve felt my friend is wearing some scarlet “A” and bearing this crazy cross unnecessarily.

After everything,  I still want to say he deserves better. Or maybe he feels that’s all he deserves. 

And who the hell am I, honestly, to be viewing this with a decade-old lens? We all change. 

Kind of presumptuous to will someone to return to senses that may have changed over the years. 

I guess that’s because I’m not a lot different myself. Sure, I’ve evolved in many ways … and devolved in a few others. 

But I still see 21-year-old Goddess in the mirror. Maybe that’s because my eyes are shot from editing since 1990. 🙂

In any event, I want 100% for my friends to be happy. I just don’t get why my gut tells me to help them get their potential bunny-boilers out of their lives before it’s too late. 

The way I figure, these folks don’t like the things I post with possible dating types. I have a whole slew of boys who avoid liking or admitting they saw any hint of a pic or status update (as rarely as I allow them) with a new boy. 

So, I can do passive-aggressive too. Exhibit A: Caterwauling.com. 

I hope not to offend. I guess I’m still holding out for my happiness. Real happiness. And I guess I’m getting a wee bit judgy of those who maybe could benefit from some of my patience on that front. 

I want to tell you how awesome my mom is.

You know I have lead-footed psychos upstairs who are either kung-fu fighting or dancing the jungle boogie all day, every day, any time of day.

It’s easy to hate them, as you can tell. I gave up on my “maybe they are just young parents who fight a lot and don’t mean to destroy the peace” mantra about two weeks into my current five-month stay.

In any event, it’s Mom’s birthday weekend, and I got us a cake. We were enjoying it immensely when we heard the Baby Who Cries Like Daddy stomping around in the hallway.

Mom’s psychic senses kicked in. And she says, “Those kids have never had a piece of cake in their miserable little lives.”

I said really. And she said yes. None. Nothing special. Nothing fun or celebratory.

She said think about what life must be like to be surrounded by fighting and body-slamming and constant chaos. No wonder she cries all the time. She feels unsafe, unsure and unloved.

That doesn’t give us any sympathy for the shitheads she calls parents who can’t control themselves, let alone the kids. But to go through your miserable little life with no cake?

Now THAT is tragic, and probably a fine reason to call DCF and have them put in a house with cake.

Not our house. It already sounds like they are in there. And no, mom isn’t sharing her cake. But isn’t it nice that she can look past the absolute shitshow our apartment is to feel empathy for people who deserve it least?

Do you ever see a friend gushing over his betrothed online and want to say omg you are so getting played and I can look at that person with my third eye and know what a gold-digger they are and to run not walk away before you can’t?!?!

I take no responsibility for this post after tonight. But man, I think you picked wrong. I can see in their eyes that they are going to fuck you over. 

And they aren’t as cute as you think, either. Sorry. There, I said it. 

I know they won’t see this. And I’m not trying to shit-stir. I just can’t bear to see another person think they found their happiness when even Stevie Wonder can see through the desperation of people who don’t want to be alone anymore. 

I only hope that if I decide to settle, my real friends will stand up and say something. Or maybe they will be like me right now and understand the need to “couple” at a time when it seems like the one thing otherwise-smart people just can’t seem to master. 

Throughout my life, when things were at their most-stressful, I would dream of the guy I dated/BFF from high school. I always took his presence in my dreams to mean that everything would turn out OK.

And somehow, it always did.

I haven’t dreamed of him in some time. Whether that means I wasn’t too stressed or else everything isn’t going to turn out OK, I don’t want to know. 😉

But last night I dreamed of the one I always think of as the one who got away. I used to call him the love of my life. The one I haven’t seen since just before the towers fell and the world changed.

I hesitated a second before referring to him as the love of my life. For a few reasons. Not the least of which is that he’s there and I’m here. But I also paused for a moment to consider Those Who Have Come Since.

I’m sure there’s a pun in there, but I’m going to be serious for a change today. 🙂

In any event, I don’t know how to categorize people other than those who have become Part of My Story. Even if I didn’t “love them” love them, they occupy cardiac real estate.

I’m going to divert for a second and admit that I consulted my psychic oracle — i.e., Mom — who kindly does not inflict her vibes on me when I’m going through things that I need to figure out for myself.

Anyway, she said of He Who Has Come Recently (ahem), “You know he wasn’t 100% honest, right?”

And naturally I said “Damn it woman, butt out of my business!”

You know, like any 40-year-old teenager would.

I wasn’t mad because of the buttinskis. I was shaken because some stuff that never quite added up, stuff I decided I was better off NOT adding up, must have been apparent to her spirit guides too.

In any event, there are things my own guides have told me that, again, I decided weren’t important enough to call people out on.

Because, in the grand scheme of things, I did everything for a chance at love.

Like I said, it’s Part of My Story. I had to try. I will never regret that.

And I’m willing to let it go. Not the good, but the “not quite right but that which does not directly concern me anyway.”

I got a great friend out of the deal. And the chance to find the next Part of My Story.

In any event, we all know how we feel when we “discover” things that could scar us if we let them, right?

So yeah, I was feeling that way this weekend.

And that’s where the dream came in.

I saw the guy I don’t think much about anymore. He was wearing a Hard Rock Hotel shirt from Orlando. Which is funny because I JUST BOUGHT a shirt from there. I remember seeing “his” shirt there.

He came over to me and gathered me into his arms. And he held me until I fell asleep in the dream. And when I awakened in the dream, he was still holding me.

My dream self thanked him for getting me through the night, and for caring about me.

My real self awakened next. I don’t know what it all means. I don’t even care. I’m just grateful that perhaps I have a new signpost that everything will turn out OK.

After all, when I get those signs, everything really does turn out OK.

Went to meditation last night at a place that pumps salt through the air. My skin was perfectly flawless and my sinuses were clear … till I got home and my body went to hell like usual from the “construction” fumes. (By construction, I mean “one guy and a bag of concrete to repair a neglected 100-unit building by the sea.” Hah.)

My teacher always asks us to set an intention at the start of the session and then to revisit it before we close.

Last time I asked for peace. This time I asked for joy.

And maybe it was the salt haze but I had a very interesting discussion with my Higher Self about that joy.

As a nice finishing touch to each session, my teacher drops an Earth Oracle card at our feet before we “awaken.” This time mine was Fire.

Which, whoa.

I always struggle with my career. I mean, struggle to the point of “I don’t want to work anymore” struggle. Like, find a way to make baskets on the beach with palm leaves rather than put on another pair of pantyhose and have another rambling meeting ever again. I am so burned out on everything that I don’t want to do anything. Ever. Again. Anymore. Ever. Never. Ever. Never.

The irony here was that my Higher Self told me to shut up already and find whatever sparks some passion in me again. And that if I’m not going to find it in an office, go get a side job in something that makes me use my brain again.

Find your fire again, my Higher Self said. No one else will give you back your joy.

So to awaken with the Fire / Passion Earth Magic Oracle card at my feet, well, whoa.

Awaken, indeed.

I had a very “Sovereign” week last week. A few of you will understand that this translates to “stabby.”

In any event, I always thought that if you worked around the clock and produced a lot, you would be immune from criticism. Yet, at every job I have ever held, this has never actually been true.

The only glimmer of hope in the week, as I was hearing about it for 45 solid minutes that I haven’t produced any viable candidates for my open position, was when my boss said, “You need to hire someone so you can do what you want to do.”

I perked up.

What I want to do?

Really?

That’s possible?

I mean it, I have been in a funk where I’ve been terrified of hiring my replacement (that’s how I view it, even though I am assured that’s not the case) yet it’s not a role I really want anymore anyway.

I outgrew this role 10 years ago. But in this field, it’s what I “do” and I can’t ever seem to break out of it.

You mean I don’t have to do “this” anymore once I hand it off to someone? *squee*

God, I don’t even know what I want to do. This field has made me hate writing, hate editing, hate managing people and basically just hate being alive, for the most part.

A close colleague was saying how she has plans at 7 p.m. Tuesday in a town that’s a good hour’s drive from the office. And I was so bitterly jealous. Because I probably won’t wrap up my work till 8 p.m. and I’ll still have things left undone.

I went to meditation class yesterday and just cried the whole time. I asked my higher self for peace. And it said, “Is that all?” And gave it to me.

As I released the rage of a thousand little disappointments, my higher self said, “It’s not a matter of getting your life back but, rather, getting your nights back.”

See, here’s the thing. I am at the point where I’ve been in my last nine jobs, where I’m fighting to hold on to something frankly I no longer want.

But whereas I would generally be reading the want ads, right now there’s that possibility that I could find whatever it is I want, right here, instead of taking the same unfulfilling role in another unfulfilling company.

Hmm.

I don’t know whether to be terrified or relieved. But I am motivated.

I don’t know exactly what I want, but I’m open to the possibilities. Wouldn’t it be nice to try everything and see what makes me happy AND makes money for the company? AMAZING.

“You stole my sanity
Now you are the enemy
Are you sure you wanna play this game?
Are you sure you wanna play it?”

— Daughtry, “Traitor”

Saw Daughtry last night at SunFest. I showed up for The Bangles’ set at 2 p.m. (fucking fantastic) and stayed the whole time till he took the stage at 9 p.m. And OMG, fabulous.

Anyway, the lyric above stuck in my head in a way it hasn’t in my casual listening to his newest album.

I realized someone declared war on me a long time ago, and only now did I realize, hey, how many times do you really think you can dick around me with me and I’m just going to keep squirting lube in my ass to make it more-bearable?

It sucks when friends become the enemy. But it sucks far less that I spied it with my third eye a long time ago and, really, it was just a matter of time.

It’s been a while since I declared, “Fuck me and I will FUCK YOU BACK.”

It kind of feels good actually.

Even though I have no idea how to win at this juncture …

Best Valentine’s Day ever.

Now, those of you in the loop were aware that I had plans. Plans that I was suspicious of, at best, and scared of, at worst.

Yet for all the whining I do about my job, it saved me. And this came a day after I got a bonus.

I’d say, I totally won this week.

Fridays are always nuts with weekend setups. Then the company is closed Monday, so I had to work yet another day ahead on projects that require other personnel who AREN’T going to work during the weekend like I sometimes do.

And then my sidekick had a family emergency.

A trifecta that meant I didn’t even get to shower, let alone brush my teeth and leave the house in the morning, and which kept me at my laptop well into the dimming of the day.

I told you Mother Nature finds ways to intervene when I say yes.

Thank you, Mother Nature.

I did hear from him around the end of his workday just to ask where I was. I said I was at home. Swamped. Crazy day.

I could tell he was annoyed. I’m not sure WHAT the plans were supposed to be, but I guarantee they were to be north of where I live.

By the fact that I didn’t drive to West Bumfuck, I was probably twice as far away from whatever the meeting place was to actually get there at a reasonable hour.

Now, a small part of me was thinking, I should make the effort. It’s not like I want to spend V-Day alone. I wouldn’t mind being among the living for a change.

But … the feeling that I got in the pit of my stomach when he texted wasn’t one of wild anticipation.

And wild anticipation is a big deal to me. Even if it’s just a friend, I don’t hold my breath and wait to read the text till I’m good and ready.

But the conversation ended there and I finished my work and I took my momma to the full-moon party and bonfire down the block.

I know I have to face him eventually. He’ll stew for three days and then resurface. I know the routine. He’ll ask what I ended up doing Friday. He’ll ask what else is new. He’ll suggest we should get together some other time.

And somewhere in there, he’ll pepper in a comment about me. That I should answer my phone. That I should be courteous and return a call sometime. That I “should” (insert whatever I “should” do).

I almost texted Jupiter to say happy V.D. Mom did, actually. They talk more than I do. He’s hiding in his little turtle shell. I was just thinking of Jupiter for the fact that he managed to dodge every major holiday, birthday, milestone or, fuck, weekend during the time we were whatever we weren’t.

Only once did I really confront Jupiter about his actions (or lack thereof) toward me. I said, “Can you honestly tell me that you don’t enjoy my company or make you feel good about yourself or bring some laughter and light into your life?” He nodded yes, his eyes never leaving mine.

Well, that told me.

Even if it was total horseshit.

I’ve tried the, “It’s not you; it’s me.” I’ve tried the, “I’m busy.” I’ve tried the, “Sure, let’s get a group together — oh wait, everyone else canceled? Maybe I will too.” And I’ve most often done the, “Oops, busy. Because, work.” And I have also used the, “Well, Mom wants …”

The thing with my intuition development, I just don’t feel right here. Even as friends. I spy with my third eye someone with a terrible ex who might take it out on the next.

And before I start to feel too bad, I realize the universe is just showing me how Jupiter might have felt. To give me the perspective he couldn’t.

But a psychic both Jupiter and I love posted something this morning that I can’t get out of my head.

His message said: “Allow yourself to be open to love, and to believe in the love that you see in your fantasy. It does exist — just don’t give your heart away too soon!”

I used to bug Jupiter, why can’t we just hang out as friends (since I was turned off toward him romantically) till we find something better? Why not have companionship while we kill time on this earth? And he could never answer me straight.

I see why now.

No muss, no fuss.

And he’s allowed me to keep my heart till I can get a return on my investment in the right security.

And boy, am I glad for that.