Caterwauling

Guys, I was so traumatized by my performance review that I forgot to share some highlights:

1. The reviewer wore white pants with a little brown stain in a very bad place.

2. The reviewer noted that she caught me trying to hide from her in the library (it was 8 p.m. and I was cranky and headed to Shan’s desk; the reviewer was just leaving Shan’s desk). I didn’t feel like dealing with her (it’s called overkill), so I hid in the stacks. She caught me and it made it to my evaluation.

3. It’s really hard to take a reviewer’s critiques seriously after you’ve noticed what I mentioned in Item Number Two No. 1.

This situation gets a 1 — Needs an Improvement Plan. No shit. 🙂

Shawn and I were having a discussion about the whole myth that “sex is like pizza,” and we concluded that, in fact, you can have bad pizza and bad sex and they can both leave you gagging.

Last night’s “Sex and the City” showed some anti-climactic (ahem) scenes between Carrie and Berger. Oh, the agony. The thing is, first-time sex with someone is, by definition, supposed to be bad. I think, anyway. I mean, there’s a person from my past whom I couldn’t wait to strip naked and tie to the bed. But like with Carrie and Berger, it was quiet and well, just strange. I mean, you start off in this mood where you want to rip their zippers with your teeth, but when you finally DO start dancing the horizontal mambo, it’s like something in your brain stops you and says, “Whoa. This is really happening!” And that’s when we deflate and it seems to become an effort — whether to impress the person, or to just come already. Girls are lucky in that we can fake it, just to get it overwith, but guys can’t. And maybe they’re too tired, too drunk, too emotional to complete the act. So they get frustrated and may even drop off the planet, so as not to face you again.

Perhaps, like Carrie wondered, we should all be drunk when we take a tumble through the sheets. Most of the best sex of my life was had when there were a few pitchers and some shots involved. I was stone sober during the worst moments. Maybe it’s not that I like sex as much as I think I do, but rather, it’s the drunken sex. The sex when you’re not as concerned about the other party noticing your flaws — the sex when you moan as loudly as you want to, when you’re not thinking about whether or not one of you will walk or run out when it’s done.

At any rate, Carrie and Berger did hit the jackpot on the third try, and good for them. But it left me wondering whether guys, on average, come back and try, try again … or if they just figure that the magic’s not there and they go find somebody else. I commend Berger for figuring out that it was just performance anxiety on both of their parts.

I found myself feeling incredibly horny today. Seriously, today is one of those straddle-anything-that-moves days. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a lively piece of plastic, but still — it was something. 🙂 Something about this heat brings out the sex-starved, raving lunatic in me. A part of me just wants to go out to a club and find something with a heartbeat, just to amuse me.

That’s something that has changed about my life in the past year (well, six months). I became accustomed to going to bars and randomly playing tongue twister with someone. I’d barely get a first name out of them, but I’d just kind of be attached at the lip with them until it was time to go home. I called it safe sex — no contraceptives necessary. I even had a person or two with whom I could do that regularly, with no strings attached. Ah, I’m missing my youth today. …

“Alex & Emma” was fabulous. I loved every minute of it.

Broke down and bought the new memory card for my camera. I’m glad I did it, even though we all know I’m going to find the lost one now that I’ve taken the card out of the package. 🙂

I realized that the place where guys can meet chicks is at the movie theatre during any Sunday afternoon. Goodness gracious, there were single women crawling the place! Some came in pairs, but the majority of us were silenly sipping our Diet Cokes (no ice, thanks) and enjoying our small butters with extra popcorn. 🙂 I saw some guys sitting on the benches outside of the restrooms, and I realized that if they weren’t waiting for women, they could have had their choice of about 100 women on the top floor of the AMC alone!

Granted, I was probably the only one who thought to apply cosmetics and wear something other than sweat shorts and a T-Shirt, but hey, if you’re looking for a natural girl, there’s your day to find her. And for those of us who do put together an outfit for a date with ourselves, you see who really gives a shit about her appearance, even if no one is looking.

< / public service announcement >

I ordered my ticket online so that I would have to make it to the show on time. It was kind of neat, actually, to schedule this much-needed time with myself. That I actually made a reservation showed that I took the date seriously … I didn’t do my usual, “Oh, screw it. Things to do and people to see. No time for me.” Oh hell no. Maybe this is what I need to do with my writing — to block out X amount of time on whatever the days and bar any unnecessary distractions. And although this weekend was one where I was continuously on-call for work, I still managed to give myself some TLC and undivided attention. That’s why I get my nails done every two weeks, too — not just because I like having pretty-looking hands so I can show off my abundance of jewelry, but because it’s two hours out of the month where I am being absolutely pampered. I can’t answer the phone, I can’t run out the door to solve a crisis. I have to sit and be attended to. When you look at it that way, it’s a wonder that “self time” isn’t mandatory for more women. 🙂

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for “Sex and the City” and a warm foot bath!

I am in a great mood. I really am. It took awhile for it to happen, but a good hair day, coupled with a cute outfit day and a splash of my Ralph Lauren’s Romance perfume, can work wonders for a girl’s soul. My digital camera is working again, and I took some self-portraits for my personal ads.

We put some photos on Shawn’s website. I’m hosting them over here, so as long as my site is up, his photos are available. I s’pose I was inspired to put more of my own photos up — maybe that certain special someone is out there reading my site and wants to see a current photo of me. 🙂 Yeah, I’m dreaming, but right now, dreams are all I have, and they provide a great escape while I’m sitting around playing with myself, waiting for The Next One to slither into my life. LOL. I’m going to go out and buy a new memory card, seeing as I lost my good one. Damn it. I’m sure I’ll find it when I move.

My boss said I’m looking happier lately. She figured it was the excitement of finishing the paper (which crept into my night last night with a 7 p.m. call from the print shop. Gaah! I can’t escape!) as well as my impending move. I guess she was right on both counts — another paper down, the prospect of hiring someone to help me come Aug. 1, the prospect of using the salary we’re not paying that person to finance three extra freelance articles (Scott, are you listening?), and the joy of having a change of scenery are doing wonders for my ability to smile.

Oh, and Michelle Branch’s new album is pretty good. I can’t get past Song #2, “Are You Happy Now?” but I assume the rest of it will be good ear candy for me this summer as well.

On that note, I’ve gotta run if I’m going to make it to the movie I want to see this afternoon. Later gators!

As much as I’ve wanted to get rid of Showtime, I can’t because they are really coming up with some great original series ideas. We all know I’m in love with “Out of Order,” and now, we can add “Dead Like Me” to the rotation.

I only saw the last half of the premiere episode this week, but what I learned sparked a great conversation with Shawn over Italian food in Georgetown yesterday. (As an aside, go visit Shawn and leave some comments in his brand-spanking new comment box! Come out and be a Bond Girl!)

The main character in the show was pissed off because, in her first offical role as a grim reaper, she had to take the soul of a beautiful little girl on a train. So when the train crashed, she chose to protect the girl instead of taking her away. She met up with the king of the grim reapers (forgive me, I didn’t learn any of their names), who said that souls expire, and if the soul isn’t taken at the moment of expiration, that person will go on to lead a sad or bitter existence. It’s best to take the soul before it goes bad.

Of course, Shawn and I wonder why the hell nobody has taken OUR souls yet, ’cause we’re as bitter as they come, but I digress. 😉

But this is quite the fascinating insight on why the good supposedly die young. This could be why we all sign DNRs so that, if we’re really on our way out, nobody prolongs our lives unnecessarily.

Eventually, she did take the little girl’s soul, and suddenly, a mystical carnival appeared in the woods where they waited. The little girl ran toward the carnival, and once she reached it, everything evaporated into a pile of stars and fairy dust. The main character tried to run after the girl, but the guy told her no, this is not for her to know. I guess that’s their way of telling us that everyone goes to their own idea of heaven, where their spirits will be happy and fulfilled. It was riveting.

Personally, y’all know I’m not too keen on heaven or hell or afterlives. So that told me that I need to find and make my own heaven here. As do we all.

The former stigma of online dating is going away, according to this article.

Gone are the days when you could hope for your friends fixing you up. Instead, we can just hop online and find anyone, anywhere.

I’ve been doing the online dating thing for about four years now. I’m not thrilled with it. I find myself wishing that some of my guy friends COULD hook me up with some of their buddies — at least, that would be an honest testimonial that someone who knows both parties put some thought into said hook-up. But, in fairness and gratitude to my male buddies, most of them have refrained from hooking me up with their friends whom even THEY thought were pigs.

I learned a lesson today about personal ads. I just got a response from a 19-year-old. Here I’ve been, so busy trying to make myself sound fun and exciting and attractive, but I neglected to truly define what it is that I want. And while I don’t believe in restricting my search too much, I had to put in some paramaters.

I got a response from another one of my ads this week, only to find that I have to pay the site a big fee to return the e-mail, and it’s a recurring monthly charge if I’m not on-the-ball enough to suspend my membership. Forget that shit — I am not paying to meet people. I keep trying to remove the ad, but the site crashes every time I try.

At any rate, I prefer to pick up a vibe from somebody. I want to walk up to them and feel that they are people I would feel comfortable spending time with, instead of hoping against hope that they aren’t going to miss a date with their parole officer to meet me in a public place. The beauty of the online persona is that you can truly make yourself out to be whatever it is that you want people to perceive you as. And that beauty can become a dark reality when what you see is not, in fact, what you get.

With my recent (first) 29th birthday, I am finding that I really crave a serious relationship. I think I have the right to wonder whether or not my dates will go somewhere — I’m not dreaming of marriage, by any means, but I would like to sincerely invest a significant amount of time with someone I’d like to have in my life for awhile. I would love to have somebody to hang out with, to take to events and to call up whenever I need companionship. And yes, I have wonderful friends for that, but increasingly, they all are finding other people to do things with and to go to events with. I don’t begrudge them this — I want all of us to be happy. But I also believe that it’s my turn to have this as well.

Yes, I did awaken on the wrong side of the bed today (after 14 hours of sleep!). I had a bizarre dream about all of this. The usual cast of characters appeared during my sleep, and I started picking fights with everyone around me.

And, in a generalist statement, I understand that the precariousness of friendships is what keeps me from really picking fights or from voicing whatever concern is on my mind. I watch Shan and John, who will be married in a week, and while they sometimes spat like they were in a boxing ring and I’m the “ring girl” parading in short shorts and a sign announcing the latest “TKO,” I realize that I want what they have. They can fight and make up. They can be absolutely up-front with each other without worrying that the other is going to get pissed off and move out because they disagree about something. They can be real together, and they love each other, no matter which side of the personality feels like emerging on a particular day. 🙂

Sure, when you’re first in a relationship, you do walk on eggshells so that you can appear to walk on water. 🙂 But what I long for is the realness — the ability to say, “Get out of my face — you’re annoying me” or “Clean up your mess” or “Are you smoking crack? Did you honestly think I’d find that insult adorable?” or “Shove that performance review where it fits” and not worry that this will be the last discussion the two of you will ever have.

I promised Shan and John that I will give the toast on their 20th wedding anniversary. I will steal a bit of it from Michele, from when her sister recently got married — the part where she wanted to say, “They have been to hell and back together, and sometimes, they’ve taken us with them.” I love it that they can, in fact, board the Dante’s Inferno Express but make a round trip right back to blissfulness, once the air is cleared. They’re never second-guessing each other. They know each other well, and they know that sitting around and wondering instead of asking is counter-productive.

At any rate, I’ve had too many counter-productive moments of my own lately, and I’m through. I want the dream relationship, and I want the reality that comes along with it. But until then, I am going to treat myself to a matinee of “Alex & Emma.” And like those characters, until I find the dream I want to live, I guess I’ll just remain here, writing about it. 🙂

This one’s gonna be short and choppy .. I have a headache.

* Got a call from the print shop with a minor crisis around 7:30 tonight. Fixed it.

* Just got another call (9:45 p.m.) — I let it hit voice mail. My workdays should not start at 9 a.m. and go till infinity.

* Digested my review. Something tells me that Demure was projecting a whole lot of shit onto me that really has little to do with me. I got a bunch of good comments in there, like about having to socialize more: “I feel comfortable asking any of my colleagues for assistance. They are approachable. They find me approachable. When I see people ‘socializing’ in the hallways, I think they’re lazy and don’t have enough work to do. I do not want to be perceived as such.”

* Got an e-mail from one of my old friends, forwarded from an old friend who’s looking for me. I’m not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, it’s nice to know that people still care about me, long after we’ve fallen out of touch. On the other hand, this friend knows how to get in touch with me and hasn’t used the information in a few months. I’ve grown accustomed to people suddenly wanting to get in touch with people because they need something. I have a hard time keeping up with my friends as it is … I don’t know how to keep up with even MORE people. That we fell out of touch in the first place is probably an indicator that, even if we started communicating again, we’d go right back into nothingness soon after.

* I feel terrible about missing Susan’s graduation (she’s getting her MBA!) tomorrow, but work is obviously demanding me to be running around like a nutcase this weekend. And not to mention, I am drained. Officially fucking wasted.

* The diet has gone to hell on the short bus. 🙂 Grabbed a huge container of mint M&Ms ice cream tonight and just enjoyed a whole bunch of it. I figure, I’ve been living on salads and meat and cheese, and not a damn thing has been happening. Fuck it, I’m cranky and ice cream is my only cure.

* A friend of mine is moving this weekend, and she’s beyond broke till payday on July 7, so Shan and I decided to put together a basket of foodstuffs for her. While I was getting my ice cream, I bought a gift certificate to Safeway for her, to add to the basket. She is moving into the complex I will be inhabiting come August, and there is a Safeway within walking distance of our abodes. Shan and I know altogether too well what it’s like to be poor and have empty cupboards, so we know she will enjoy having this little housewarming gift from us. 🙂 There are some people in life who really need a helping hand and who will never ask. Those same people appreciate any gesture you can make, and while even we can’t do all that much, we just want to let her know that we are here for her. She is a lovely woman who works really hard and doesn’t get much in return, so we’re going to change that.

* My instincts have been sharper than ever lately. I am going to start putting my faith into them more. They’ve rarely failed me. For the fact that I feel kind of good (minus the kickass migraine), I know I must be on the right path to something … only I just don’t know what that something is, but I intend to find out.

* I need to start freelancing to make some cash and to get some satisfaction from work. I’m a writer who suddenly hates writing. I need to change this — I need to fall in love with my work again.

I’m going to bed. All this thinking has hurt my brain even more!

… and apparently, every employer I’ve ever had thinks I have an attitude.

This is no surprise.

I took the review with a grain of salt (and a shot of tequila). I just don’t understand how I get a “meets expectations” when I go above and beyond the call of duty every month, yet a handful of others produce no results whatsoever and still get the same rating I do.

Things were contradictory — that I am verbal about my thoughts, but I have poor communication skills. That I need to socialize with other staff more but I have a lot of last-minute crises when called away from my work to attend meetings and luncheons.That I get angry and annoyed by the meetings and administrative tasks but that I offer too many suggestions for improving the association when I should be prioritizing the production of the paper. That I get defensive and supposedly offer excuses when criticized, but I don’t share information when asked questions.

I defended everything (yeah, there I go being defensive again) and decided that if my style of work is more important than the outcomes I produce, I am as usual in the wrong job and should be working for myself.

I can’t win, but at least I got my raise. And I hope to not be around for next year’s review, so in the end, this too will be a faded memory.

1. How are you planning to spend the summer [winter]?

Moving. Like, it seems, I spend every summer doing. Can it be any hotter? And as far as winter, I expect I will be poor and sitting around playing with myself.

2. What was your first summer job?

I believe it was a blow job. 🙂 And I was a camp counselor when I was 15.

3. If you could go anywhere this summer [winter], where would you go?

Aruba. Might as well dream big!

4. What was your worst vacation ever?

I don’t take vacations. Unless you count the horrendously hot drive to Pittsburgh that I make on a quarterly basis. I prefer when someone else is driving. And my so-called escapes usually involve me running the wheels off of my car, trying to see everyone I promised to see. I look forward to taking a vacation that actually involves me being on vacation!

5. What was your best vacation ever?

The trips I take into my mind are usually the most productive. 🙂

A blind woman with an infant cradled in her arms was filled with sage advice for me, advice I neither requested nor desired.

“Even a blind person can perceive that your heart and your mind are way ahead of your feet,” she said, patting her child on the head and turning and walking away from me.

All of this came to me in a dream.