Caterwauling

Mom’s been getting sicker and weaker (and yet we just got turned down for Medicaid for her again this week. I’m about ready to say her name is Consuela on our next application and see what happens).

So I’ve been picking up some slack around this glorious dump. This after working an awful lot. And after spending Good Friday and Easter working instead of hanging out with her.

Which, I hated to do, because when it has come to my family over the years, you never know which holiday is going to be their last.

The other day, she said, “You work so hard for us.”

And she cried.

She feels so bad that everything falls on me. I count my blessings that I still have most of my health and about half of my spirit left.

And I have my momma. For which I thank God multiple times a day.

I know all the preachers say we can’t tell God what to do, nor beg Him to help us. But rather to be grateful for what we have and especially grateful for what we cannot see.

Doesn’t stop me from arguing with God about my momma’s health and the lack of means to get it fixed. And even when I try the “Thank You for the miracles you’re working in my momma,” I don’t really get any results that way either.

I know you’re supposed to detach yourself from all outcomes, but I can’t. I have to work like a mule to keep the financial ship (there and here) afloat. I just really and truly hope that all this butt-busting and not, say, spending time with my mom can pay off for us.

She understands. I’m glad somebody does. Because I will wrestle with it till my dying day, no doubt.

I remember at my early jobs (since I always had to work two to three at a time to make ends meet the way the zippers on my pants two sizes down get into the neighborhood of connecting), I used to get exhausted by 40 hours a week.

Don’t get me wrong, all told I’d still do 80 hours. But there was one job that was an 8-to-4:30 and boy did I want to die by 4:31 when I sprinted for the stairwell.

I had a hard 40 hours last week. The additional hours at the same job weren’t cake either. 😉

This week is a holiday week, which means Even Moar Cramming 10 pounds of poop into a five-pound bag. I thought, I can make it. I will pace myself.

Then I got an impossible request on an all-staff call today and I had to mute myself. Because my reply would have been fairly lethal.

It’s an impossible request because I gave away a Big Project to someone last week only to have it come running back to me today. So in addition to my Crammed Holiday Week, I have this Big Project.

So hearing about an Impossible Project — which really isn’t but I’m pretty much seething at this point being due like RIGHT NOW — not to mention a few residual cleanup items from the last two launches and starting the NEXT TWO launches, well, yams.

Truth be told, I’d rather have the project. I just wanted to have a normal crazy week instead of another batshit one. Silly Goddess.

So, in “This is Me Not Bitching” status, I will say this. There is a group of three of us. It’s always been the three of us. It’s a carryover from our last job where we worked together in ridiculous conditions. We just kind of banded together here and it’s always, always The Three of Us. No matter how many people come and go.

Anyway, I think we all drive each other crazy. But I think our loyalty is unparalleled. We can always count on each other for a few laughs. We never really bitch because we’re in the “grateful to have an income” category.

But honestly, even when I want to throw things at them on occasion, I just want to hug them afterward.

I have a funny feeling that, if this company lasts 50 more years and we are still there, the three of us will still be standing together. Or drunk at a bar together. Yes, that sounds more like it.

Anyway, I received an amazing, amazing gift from one of my boys today. Between him and my two colleagues, I can get up and do this every day.

It’s tougher some days than others, generally when I’m being held accountable for 1,000 things to everybody else’s 250. But, you know, I do it for myself and the people who need me to do it for them.

Those three are as grateful as can be. And that counts for a whole hell of a lot.

I read a tip in Self magazine that one should try a week without bitching. Which meant mentally slapping my hand every time I fired up my blog dashboard. Because, what are these things for, if not to kvetch on?

It was a hard week. Workwise and otherwise.

I do want to clarify that I’ve really come to enjoy my mom. Sure she drives me crazy, what with living with me for seven-ish years now.

But if I’d instead spent this time married or otherwise shacking up with some possessive or, worse, boring windbag who couldn’t cook/clean or who gave me shit about my work schedule, well, I totally won this last near-decade.

Mom’s health is really at the point of “if a miracle doesn’t happen soon …” We’ve kind of said our goodbyes already. That’s where we’re at.

Don’t worry. I’ll keep working and driving a lot and not missing a beat or any new project, to keep a roof over our heads. Wouldn’t want anyone to worry that I’ll dip into my two months’ vacation or anything like that.

Hell, I canceled one of my doctor’s appointments this week. Not looking for applause or a parade or anything. Just, I wish my dumbass friends would stop posting shit on Facebook like they’re having a boring day or week or that they have plans after work and date nights and shit. Not interested.

Mom commented to me the other day that my Facebook life is everyone’s fantasy, including my own. Check-ins from bars. Photos of beaches. Comments about whatever wine I’m trying this weekend.

All those moments are fleeting. I take the photo and leave for work. Or fire up the computer and work on a friend’s resume or cover letter. Or go worry about something I didn’t have time to do in the 70-something hours I DID devote to my projects.

I found myself shouldering some blame unnecessarily these past two weeks. And to be honest, I’ve done it at my past two jobs, too. Things I had no control over. Things I asked for and didn’t receive. Things that were committed for delivery by a certain date, and me not receiving them meant a slight delay on my end.

I don’t throw people under the bus. I see us all as a team — hell, a FAMILY — and our job is to support each other. Unless someone’s being overtly malicious (and we’ve got one of those, too), I feel it’s best to just not torch a bridge I need to traverse a few thousand more times in my lifetime.

Because, I really really really appreciate it when they have my back, too. And most of them do.

And sometimes I admit I take it upon myself to own it. Not that I want, need or deserve blame. Blame shouldn’t even be in these conversations. But it’s implied sometimes.

I saw myself get ousted from my last job for doing the same thing. Of course, that nutty bitch just fired someone during her first week because the girl wasn’t a fan of the commute. So, using that asylum as a yardstick for what should or shouldn’t work is like telling men that four inches is really 12.

Anyway, so if I bitched last week, the rants would have been along these lines.

So instead I just want to reiterate that while having my mom be 100% dependent on me, and me failing a dozen ways to Sunday to get her health care and the other things she really needed, we’ve had so much fun.

We were at a restaurant yesterday, and a server who wasn’t ours said, “I love walking by your table. You’ve never stopped laughing. You two seem like such pleasant people.”

We were probably laughing AT someone in our lives. But she’s right. We have fun.

And I pray maybe this is the turning point I’ve needed to arrive at, for things to start going our way. That things aren’t easy and not the way I pictured them to be. But they’ve been really good — better than good, in most cases.

So, good for all of you who have your families covered by healthcare, and good for all of you who are working on expanding your families and taking international trips and attending classes and finding time with friends while I am enslaved to *something* (whatever it is).

Like Mom always tells me, everyone is going on with their lives but me.

But this season of stress is going to resolve itself one way or another. Either she gets the help she needs (preferred solution) or she can’t take the pain anymore and I have to let her go (obviously, not the right answer).

But I have to stop being afraid that things AREN’T going to change at all, and to be ready for where my journey leads next.

Because, being terrified all the time and killing myself to hold on to “the way things are” really doesn’t seem like much of a solution, either, when you think about it.

The bigger message for me is to enjoy it while we have it. And that, I promise you, is something I’ve finally, finally learned how to do.

I’ve noticed that when I dwell on negative things, more seem to suddenly appear. Or maybe they were always there, but they become more prominent.

So today I want to focus on something wonderful that happened last week, at a time I needed it most.

What my current crop of colleagues doesn’t realize is how well-connected I am in the field. People’s names they drop, I could tell stories about. Good stories. Which I try to share if asked.

I used to work in business development as my “side job” to editorial, so I know a lot. But these days I work in “work we really need minions to do” as my “side job” at work, and others are starting to meet my old connections.

If I had my way in this universe, I would introduce people to each other. I really would love that. I miss Biz Dev and I hope to get back to it someday. It might have to be in a few years or maybe in another lifetime, but in a moment you’ll see why it has to become a part of my life again.

I was having a Bad Day and a colleague says to me, oh hey I just got to talk to a gal you may know.

She says the name. I smile. Yes, I have good memories of that relationship.

My friend says, “The girl knows you work here now. She said, ‘Oh, you work with Goddess? LOVE HER!'”

My friend goes on to list the compliments the gal paid me.

Most notably, my friend said, “I was on the phone with her, and I could hear her grinning from ear-to-ear as we talked about you.”

My heart swelled. To have someone I respect so much, telling someone else I respect very much, that I rock? Wow.

Just, wow.

Now a part of me shouldn’t be surprised because I try very hard to rock. 🙂

But to have my name out there in the universe — in such a wonderful way — really, really made me happy.

As I said, it was a Bad Day. And this reminded me that I was Somebody before this adventure and I will continue to be Somebody after it, no matter what was said to me that day that broke my spirit.

The moral to the story? Your good deeds will follow you, and catch up with you at just the right time. So keep doing them, even when the easy choice is NOT to do them.

Thank you to the gal who honored me with her praise, and to the gal who shared it with me. Both of you are high atop my gratitude list today.

Remember I said I had to guess what my boss would wear today?

Well, my day went to hell before 6 a.m. and I was stuck in the editing position until about 9-ish … i.e., I didn’t have time to leave the house and do my hideous 45-minute commute. (Darn …)

So my boss called me about something and I said, hey, weird question. What color are you wearing?

And … my prediction was spot-on.

I should have published it here. But I have it in my notebook, dated. So I’m good.

I’d picked blue at first. Mostly because, I’ve seen him in different shades and patterns of blue. Then the still, small voice said green shirt and brown pants. So I wrote green/brown.

I didn’t tell him what I’d written. So when he said green shirt and brown pants, I told him he has a psychic on his staff.

As he said, he owns about 300 blue shirts and 3 green, so the odds were pretty much against him picking what I saw.

So now, this makes me wonder about all those work dreams I have where things are being kept from me. I often dream that he and another colleague are hanging out without telling me.

Which is fine, I guess, because couples do “couple things” and women are generally threatened by single women even when we are looking elsewhere for our kicks. (Like, toward SINGLE MEN.)

But I wonder if this simple color validation confirms the reason why I feel left out in general, and NOT the favorite on other days, which is what always spurs those dreams.

But alas, I don’t believe in playing favorites unless I’m the favorite, so I try to not let it bother me. Because, I love me and that’s all that matters. And bully for everyone else who just isn’t as evolved.

And damn I love this whole “trusting my intuition and it being right” thing. It opens up a scary new world, but it also reveals a power that sets me apart even more.

If I’m right, I’m going to turn out OK after all … And that was what the my psychic reading revealed to me in the end.

My friend gave me some weird messages but in answer to my question, “What steps do I need to take to be fully happy?” she said, “You’re almost there.”

Almost there. Can’t ask for much more than that. And thank you, God, for that.

I always figured I’m an empath, or clairsentient as the psychic circle seems to know it, and I had an opportunity to tap into it yesterday at a class run by a brand-new friend.

Holy hell.

We took turns being the “Sender” and “Receiver” of information. I found that no one could read me. There could be a variety of reasons for that — we are all novices, I have a lot of competing thoughts, and I’m “hearing” what the person 10 feet away is thinking.

But I did really, really well reading others.

One exercise, the sender was to think of a fruit. I looked at the girl and guessed “red grapefruit.” She said, “red grape.” So, not 100% accurate, but pretty damn close, eh?

Another exercise is to picture what color your boss will wear Monday. I wrote it down. Now to make sure to run into him on Monday to find out!

I did my best reading sitting next to a gal instead of sitting opposite her. That’s the empath in me — I don’t need to see their faces to know what’s in their heart.

That’s where my spidey senses begin and end. The heart. I spend too much time in my head and I have to listen with my heart instead of my actual and metaphorical ears. So, that’s my homework — to see with my third eye and quit thinking so much.

I also received a reading from the professional running the class. Which, I’m still processing. I didn’t hear what I wanted, but I got what I needed.

I’ll post more when I make sense of it all. But I will say this. I cleared my mind and was open to any message. And it’s pretty interesting what Spirit had to say …

“They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody is loving you.”

— Lana Del Rey, “Video Games”

Went to a party last Saturday night.

No I didn’t get laid but I didn’t get in a fight either, Lita Ford.

I went alone. As I always do. And the first question everyone asks, if they bother to talk is, “Who are you here with?” Because they’re all coupled off, as happens in my age group.

I did invite a friend to go along. Story for another day. Useless.

I also had a birthday gift for a friend I thought would be there, whom I didn’t know moved out-of-state two weeks ago.

So, yeah. Anybody else have any surprises for me?

I realize that for all my extroversion at work, I have developed a bit of social anxiety, methinks. I have zero desire to initiate a conversation. I cannot STAND small talk and refuse to generate any. And honestly I was happy sitting outside in the freezing cold by the bonfire by myself.

I mean, I joined a bunch of conversations. But nothing really took off. For saying I’m a damn journalist and can ask great questions, I just … don’t always ask ones that generate much follow-up.

Polite but detached. Eye on the door. Ready to defect. That’s me since I moved to Florida.

The thing is, I have nothing to talk about but work and mom. I have unparalleled expertise in both. I don’t have time to read the damn headlines or have a hobby. What on earth can I say that people will relate to?

My boss and his wife were the only people I knew outside the party hosts. We’re cool and I’m happy to socialize but if there’s one thing I know about couples, it’s to not go near them too much. Because, women.

Besides, I occupied my time making all the other coupled-off women cringe when their significant others shook my hand and said hi.

Meanwhile, I was contemplating my escape (did I mention I stayed sober till about 2 a.m.?) around midnight when a nice gal struck up a conversation with me. And she and her boyfriend were just awesome.

She was terrific at the small talk. And it quickly became Big Talk.

I cannot tell you how grateful I was for her. She asked me to friend her on Facebook while we were talking, and her boyfriend friended me today.

It was as though God Himself wanted us to connect. It’s like, all the Swiss cheese holes in my heart, she had answers for. She’s beautiful and brilliant and telling ME I’m beautiful and brilliant.

I admit, I go to these parties hoping that they will help me become the social butterfly I once was. And that maybe going to parties with cool people means I’ll meet a cool person to add to my circle.

I also admit I wouldn’t mind meeting a guy at one of these things, especially since the hosts just have the world’s nicest group of friends ever. But coming out of it, making a genuine connection for the first time in a long time? Even better, I think.

I’m at my destination and having a blast.

It kills me that it took me till the last weekend of December to have a damn vacation day. But I love it and now I want to find a rich man so I don’t have to work 70 hours a week like it was what I was put on earth to do.

I am hanging out with my adopted family and I think they love me more than one of their daughters with the same name. And I am happy to take her place. 🙂

Everyone felt bad that I couldn’t make it up here earlier this month for the annual pilgrimage to Carmine’s. So the suggestion is out there that I should come up here for my 40th birthday in May and they will take me to dinner there.

Which, Awesome! Except the part about turning 40. Since, I’ll be doing that a few dozen times. But the first time should be special, right?

I was just stalking Whorothy because her name is always in the air when I’m hanging out with this friend I’m visiting. She has been posting some photos that, well, look exactly like her. Which is a shame. But anyway.

So one gal in the photo was making a comment about looking unattractive. (She really isn’t.) Whorothy comments to say, “Everyone thinks you and I look alike!”

I almost threw up my yummy sushi dinner and cannoli carrot cake I had for dessert. I imagine the other girl did too.

Honey, it is NOT a compliment to tell someone she looks like you. I’ll bet we hear of some suburban mom driving her minivan off a cliff tomorrow. You mark my words.

I was telling my friend about another of my boys who needs to be filed under the “Hint, Cannot Take” label. Here’s the deal. If you have to annoy me with, “You need to learn how to communicate/write back/call back/etc.” then I have two replies:

1. Consider that if you have to bully me into replying, well, you shouldn’t.

2. Do you think it makes you boyfriend material? Like, I will just fall head the fuck over heels with someone who feels the need to order me around or make snide passive-aggressive comments now? What the fuck would you be like later?

I met a nice guy here. Seems perfectly lovely. But A) I’m not in the mood for love and B) he doesn’t meet any of my “dream guy” criteria.

That’s right boys. I have a checklist. Always have, always will. And I’m not apologizing for it.

You want someone with Barbie proportions and an insatiable appetite for sucking cock, then it’s A-OK that I have my “I’m not wasting time with douchebags and dumbasses” fortress around my wish list.

My friend’s husband is one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I know my friend has done a hell of a job training him. 😉 But he’s also fairly awesome without any assistance. So when I DO find someone, he’s coming up here for boot camp to have my friends refine any edges he may still have.

This is what life should be like. Filled with fun and family and love and support and laughs. Don’t get me wrong — they have their “stuff.” And I know I am bringing some comic relief at a time it is needed most.

But I see people who work hard, play hard and love hard, and that’s what I want. That’s what life should be like. Mine is OK but this … this is what I’ve never seen before to know to emulate.

And I love being part of it.

Can’t wait to celebrate my birthday with this crew! I just wish my mom could be part of it.

“Now I’m off to the races, laces
Leather on my waist is tight and I am fallin’ down
I can see your face is shameless, Cipriani’s basement
Love you but I’m going down
God I’m so crazy, baby, I’m sorry that I’m misbehaving
I’m your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island
Raising hell all over town
Sorry ’bout it.”

— Lana Del Rey, “Off to the Races”

I’m obsessed with Lana Del Rey right now, and this song in particular. As if I needed a new theme song.

I got to thinking on the long drive home about “50 Shades of Grey.” Or as Mom says my book will be, “50 Shades of Rage.”

Anyway, I haven’t read the trilogy. I want to. I guess. It’s just that I was writing this shit when I was a teenager and I hate it that someone else is getting rich off of my storylines.

My deal was that I put the books down so I could get some life experience. And I wish I were getting more.

Anyway, on the drive, I realized I had a Christian Grey of sorts. Not Chris Hemsworth hot. But, you know, someone who got to me.

I find that I have the most fun when I’m not emotionally involved. Detachment apparently makes me more desirable. And I think that absolute lack of pressure helps me to enjoy a heightened sense of pleasure from every moment.

So I got to thinking about this wild affair, sneaking all over town and hooking up in theaters and museums and all kinds of other exhilarating (for me) places. Which, he was no dummy. He planned that shit. He knew what would do it for me.

What ended it was the usual — me running away. Not that I had reasons to stay, really. But I just couldn’t do what he was asking.

No, not those kinds of things. I’m pretty … ah, agreeable. I mean, like really raw, vulnerable, intimate things. Everyday things. Things you do effortlessly without people watching.

I’m not so good with that. I … just can’t even talk about it.

Recently I let one of my boys actually touch my hair. Twice. It was maddening, in a way, because I don’t let anybody near my hair. The trust it took, he’ll never actually know.

Even though it was a friend and we were just talking, I was hyper-aware that anything resembling having someone in my space without a cocktail or an agenda is relatively unchartered territory.

Anyway, Christian Grey. Maybe I need to look into this “reading something other than the Wall Street Journal” thing. All work and no play has made Goddess a bit of a dullard, even if she has an emerging market that needs to be tapped.

Hmm. New headline for my Match profile? 😉

My line of work is good for those of us who don’t have extended family or friends. That’s because, in my particular role, you’re den mother/warden/cat wrangler/therapist/fluffer/bodyguard to the anchor creatures on your own personal Island of Misfit Toys.

In other words, “Other Duties as Assigned” IS my job description.

I learned from a dear friend and one of my top 3 favorite colleagues of all time that one of our boys passed away this week. And given that he’s probably only about 10 or so years older than me, it’s made me sadder than usual when these sorts of things happen.

Everyone always says that I do well with the weird ones … the stranger they are, the more I understand them and can get the best out of them. I like to think it’s a compliment but I never can tell with the people I meet these days.

I figure, we’re all broken and recovering from something. We all find our ways to cope. Or we embrace our inner goofball and make a character or a career out of it. I don’t care. If I find a good heart beneath all of it, then I commit to enjoying the experience.

Anyway, RIP J.L. You were such a life force, and you seemed like you enjoyed the stuffing out of every day you were here.

You were difficult and defiant and you wanted everything your way. So the fact that you trusted me and helped me to help you means that I must have gotten through to you on a deeper level, too.

I know we haven’t talked in a while but you were always someone special to me. I hope there’s good coffee and a wall of trading screens in heaven waiting for you. Those overnight markets aren’t going to trade themselves, you know. Now you’ll have sunshine all the time. Cheers, old friend.