Learning to dream again

Tuesday has been so very full of FAIL.

I had a great job opportunity for the OEH. My vet is hiring. So I sent her with money to go buy some Capstar in hopes she could strike up a conversation and ask about the three open positions they list on their Web site. Whereupon they treated her like shit, refused to sell it to her and otherwise acted like assholes.

Now, I deserve when they treat me like an asshole. My kitty was sicker than I ever realized. I didn’t recognize it soon enough and I didn’t take care of it. And I admit that somewhere in my line of thinking, it was hard for me to give my cats health care when my mother’s gone 50 years without it. Even if all my friends had pounded it into my head that she chose to never get a job/get health care/do anything but rely on others to come through and they never did. I chose to have pets. They needed me to make good choices for them. I signed up to take care of them. And in Maddie’s case — my best friend, the light of my life — I failed so very miserably.

Needless to say, no job for OEH.

I promised myself I’d take a break from the burgeoning workload and do some writing for myself tonight. I did treat the colleagues to my unhinged ramblings in an e-mail chain last night. To which I got some surprisingly good feedback, that they wanted to hear more of what runs through my mind.

It was a marketing brainstorming e-mail that particularly lit my fire. I know my audience so well because I AM my own audience. I am that person who works too hard and doesn’t see the light of day enough and can’t tell a Saturday or a Sunday from any other day of the week. Believe me, I CAN sell ice to Eskimos because I wear the parka and look just as stupid in it.

And it’s so hypocritical to write about making your dreams come true when I don’t take the resources at my fingertips and do the same damn thing for myself.

Christ, I could be our best testimonial. And yet, I never take those steps because I can’t figure out how/when/where to start.

I was joking (but in a serious way) that bigger you get (and not just in ass size, but age), the smaller your dreams can become. That I’m just about done waiting for Prince Charming to get his aging ass off that bound-for-the-glue-factory horse of his and take me to his castle that’s in foreclosure. That you go from dreaming of all the homes you’ll own all over the world to having to charge a pack of cigarettes to your credit card. That the more uncertain things become in the world, the more tightly we rein in our aspirations because we feel we must prepare for disappointment.

I could go on but I can’t share all my intellectual property. Since it’s the ONLY thing I own, yo. 😉

I will say that the collective “we” (read: I) somehow let the universe chop my dreams in half. I had grand designs of saving money and traveling and seeing my friends even more than I did when I lived down the street from them. And yet I have one coming to my area but I can’t spare a square time to make a meeting happen.

I’m more disturbed at my “Enh” reaction to it. I don’t know when a “next time” will be. The last time I tried to see her, I actually bought the plane ticket and lost all the money because I was too busy. I remember that was a pivotal moment in my psyche. I’m not saying that in a good way.

I’m starting to get nervous over my move. (Saturday morning, baybee.) Now, I’m a big fan of a little fear before a big adventure. Fear is good. Fear keeps reality in check. Fear can be motivating and even enthralling when you face it.

But I am hyper-aware of the difference between fear and your gut telling you that you’re doing something stupid. And I think I’m squarely on the “fear of the unknown” side and not the “you’re about to regret this” side. But I figure, I’m exchanging money for sanity. A lot of money for hopefully a commensurate amount of sanity. But a shred of sanity nonetheless.

It’s times like this when I wonder how the universe decided I’m so damn trustworthy to handle so much, you know? It’s one thing when shit just “happens” to you. It’s quite another when you have your eyes wide open and go barreling into something headlong.

I’ve found that most of my decisions turn out to be good ones. Even if it takes forever for me to find my groove and admit that I did the right thing.

I keep telling myself that things will turn around. Good things are coming soon enough. Sacrifices are the name of the game and they will be rewarded.

I refuse to let myself think the OEH will be dependent forever. Although it’s certainly feeling that way.

I’ve had a lot of death and dying in the past month. Between losing my beloved Maddie, to the one-year anniversary of losing a friend, to a scare about losing another friend, I’m abundantly familiar with how transient life is and how permanent loss is.

I guess right now I’m really thinking about, wow, if I didn’t have to pay to house the OEH in D.C., I would have had money for Maddie’s care. She would still be here today. Maybe. It’s a burden I will carry for a long time to come.

And even though I’m downright gleeful at parting with (*mumble*) to put the OEH in an apartment in which I don’t live, I’m also exiling the only person I really talk to. Not that I share much. And that I’m not annoyed at never having a moment alone. But my bathroom isn’t going to clean itself anymore. 😉

In my ramblings last night, I uncovered that my American dream is simply to be obligated to no one. It could have a variety of interpretations. One interpretation is to be free of “owing” something to someone. Another would be to be dependent on someone. Another could mean that I don’t have anyone depending on me.

In a way, I really don’t believe the world owes me shit. I do my best and I fuck up religiously. So yeah, if life sucks, maybe I did something to deserve it.

On the other hand, I really DO try my best and continually feel like I’m falling short.

The Law of Attraction states that basically you have to envision it before it will come. And at times like this when everyone in the world is “just grateful to have ____,” you wonder what happened to all the dreamers in the world. Sure, we’re grateful. But is there some amount of guilt that comes with wanting more?

Like, I have a secure job and will soon have a pretty apartment. Is it selfish to want a companion, too? A social life? A meager savings that isn’t being drained to get someone else out of your hair?

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something. Either a breakthrough or a breakdown. Too early to tell which. 😉

I know what I need is to see the fruits of my labor. Hey, I’m an American in the Internet generation — I’m all about the instant gratification, yo. But I’ve spent the last few years, particularly that the OEH has been in my house, working hard and coming home and not being done with my work feeling like I’ve worked for anything. Apartments where I’m not overjoyed. No time or energy to see friends. Not really enough money to do anything spectacular. No way to put down the daily grind and go frolic somewhere for a couple of days.

If I can’t have it all, then I need to at least have some of it.

So all in all, I’ve been reasoning out this whole apartment debacle for months. And while it hurts writing out check after check after check, I’m hoping that being able to come home and stare at water on both sides of my balcony will do wonders for my well-being.

Sure, in the long run it’s not enough. But it’s more than I’ve got now.

And maybe I just need for one dream to come true for my being to be receptive to more. It is my sincerest hope that bigger things follow, and in abundance. For both myself and the OEH. I think we’ve suffered long enough.

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