Caterwauling

Stories aren’t in horrible shape anymore, although they still need a good bit of work, but I’ve done what I can with the information I had. Now I’m all over the Internet, getting more factual info to drop in. First thing tomorrow, I am e-mailing my shitty drafts to the powers-that-be, and I will settle about doing the real editing shortly after. Tonight, I want all my thoughts on paper (okay, in a Microsoft 2001 Word document), and I refuse to feel bad that I blew the deadline. Hell, even Kumquat didn’t get me his column (whatta shocker), but I prepared Demure for that monthly stoppage of flow. The good news is that I am pretty much rid of everyone in power at the Veggie Patch this week, although Demure DID say that she would accompany me to the publisher on Friday. Egads! I think I talked her out of it — told her I’ve done it a number of times and have it (the whole half-hour of work that I will put in) under control. After all the extra hours I put in this month, she is NOT taking that picnic day away from me. She said she’s curious about the publishing process. EEEEEKKKK!!!!! Oh god, save me if she does decide to join me. …

I like what I do for a living. I like interviewing people and writing stories. I like editing submissions and building relations with people. What I am realizing is that I lack the passion to make it a cohesive process. I’m not sure why — I will be pondering this one forever. I have a personal work ethic that makes me want to produce the best possible product, but it’s like my heart isn’t completely involved. One can only wonder, like Shan’s dad told us, if we produce brilliant work when we’re only doing it halfheartedly, just imagine what we could accomplish if we were personally fulfilled by our chosen vocations. …

I’m still so damned behind. Shit. Back to work!

Maddie took a fat furry flying leap today and bellyflopped straight onto my ass this morning as I was dead asleep. My head and my ass shot up involuntarily, making me arch my back like a duck. Now my back hurts, and she’s looking at me like, “Oh, good. You’re awake. Feed me!”

Had a bizarre dream about JP (of Dec. 2001-Feb. 2002 fame). He was wearing a gorgeous suit (and I know for a fact he doesn’t even own one, much less the designer one I saw) and heard I was in town (in Pgh) and he wanted to take me out. So I said OK. He took me to some theatrical production but was too cheap to buy tickets (and I couldn’t afford tickets for both of us), so he made us stand outside the door and look in to the theater. Grrr. Typical.

So I wanted to leave, as I had wasted enough time with him, and as we walked back to my hotel, we were talking. He told me he was gay. Heh. In real life, I know he’s as straight as can be, although arguably, I would imagine that any hole would do for him. 🙂 But in the dream, he was very upset because his new boyfriend had cheated on him. Again in real life, I questioned his faithfulness to me — I couldn’t prove anything, but that damn intuition was there, telling me to get rid of him. And I think I might’ve been the first woman to run, not walk, away from him, because he sure called me for a few months afterward. But I’d told him flat-out that my health was more important than wondering where he was all the time.

Some days I wonder if I have the right to be picky and demanding, and other days, I want to slap myself for thinking that way. Sure, I’m no supermodel (I like digesting my food, thank you), but that doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve not only the Cinderella fairytale, as well as the hard work and the ultimate (I hope) satisfaction of all that hard work that we invest.

Good grief. What a weird thought process this dream invoked. I need coffee. …