Caterwauling

This arrives to me from Shan with a caption, “Picture’s worth 1,000 words … I’ve trained her well!”

No arguments here. 🙂

Well, it’s just one way.

There is this person running for president of our organization, and she’s a real treat. She’s all about reducing what little power I have (and threatened the CEO, “This discussion isn’t over,” when he tried to support me). This woman also wants me to print the paper in Spanish, too. Because, you know, money grows on trees.

So I told my boss today, “If (bitch on rag) gets elected president, you will have my resignation.” My boss almost fainted — I may not be her favorite employee, but she knows she can count on me.

I did take it back, somewhat, to say that I do still have cats to feed, so I will just accept it but not be happy about it. But the look of horror on her face showed me, for perhaps the first time, that I am a valued employee. Heh. If that’s what it takes. …

1. Using one adjective, describe your current living space.

Ideal. It’s mine, mine, mine!!!!

2. Using two adjectives, describe your current employer.

I need words that have a myriad of definitions. “Special” comes to mind. And so does “challenging.” You pick out which line in Webster’s should apply. 🙂

3. Using three adjectives, describe your favorite hobby/pasttime.

Throbbing, pulsating and sticky. And by that, I mean masturbation.

4. Using four adjectives, describe your typical day.

I suppose “competing in special olympics” doesn’t fit the bill for four adjectives, does it now? I have to say, my typical day runs the gamut between fulfilling, frustrating, confounding and pleasing. And usually, in that order. 🙂

5. Using five adjectives, describe your ideal life.

My ideal life would alternate between being lascivious, concupiscent, tranquil, requited and salacious.

Eight days till payday, and I’m broke. Perfect time to receive a $6,200 bill for my recent hospital stay. *sigh* Crappy insurance plan — even crack whores can get low-income health insurance that covers more than this. Fucking HMOs.

We were paroled early yesterday from work, as the power went out around 11 a.m. (of course, we didn’t get out till after 1 p.m., when a committee of the elder statesmen determined that, even if the power came on, it would probably go right back off. Blame it on the winds that were strong enough to carry Dorothy and Toto into Kansas. 🙂

This month, I’ve officially lost five working days. There were two days last week when we lacked Internet service (and I rely heavily upon e-mail), then we had the furlough day and Veteran’s day earlier this week. Then yesterday was a complete wash. I had power, for the most part, at home, but I can’t access the files on our work server from here, so I came home, got in my jammies and got a movie from On Demand.

So, I will work like a madwoman today. Hurrah. My editorial deadline is Tuesday, and my budget is due on the same day. Guess who has to work this weekend. *sigh* Why can’t the cats go out and make a living to support their mother?

I never slept so well as I did last night (of course, I had Shorty B., the hellion cat, caged, so that helped!).

During the past couple of days, I’ve been exchanging e-mails with someone from my past. I wish I could share the e-mails, and maybe someday I will post some excerpts. But the short version is that we’ve had this secret hanging over our heads for years, and it was like the proverbial elephant sitting on the kitchen sink — everybody knew it was there, and everone tiptoed around it and pretended not to notice.

I chose never to bring it up. I chose instead to drop off the radar with him, much like he did when that elephant moved in. And I don’t know what happened, but he chose now to talk about it, chose now to try to make amends with me.

I took the apology. I listened to the stories. I don’t do that for everyone, but I’m glad I did for him.

More often than not, people in my position never get that apology. Even though it sucks, we just learn to accept that when the going gets tough, some people head for the hills and leave the mess behind. And for the rest of us who can’t stand a mess, we take care of business, no matter how hard it is. But I’ve had friends go decades with no word that the trauma ever registered on the other person. And now I have the gift of knowing that I’m not the only one who hurt, that I’m not the only one whose life is interrupted by reminders, usually at the worst possible times.

It’s not necessarily that he needed my permission to move on, but I did offer my blessing to deal with it and not be too haunted. And in doing so, I feel better that I meant enough to him for him to want to finally know what went on, and what will always go on, inside my head.

I left a lot of bad memories behind when I left Pittsburgh nearly two years ago. But last night, I was truly able to close that chapter and hopefully to save a friendship that got mangled in the current that swept me away.

And today is a new day in all senses. The poison is out of my system, and I am truly free to move on. The ability to forgive is empowering.

Shan is back to work. Even though a lightbulb burned out in my office, I got an eviction notice (for being late a lousy $100 on the rent, and I even warned them about it!), traffic sucked and the rain was wretched this morning, I swear it all faded when I saw her. It’s like a higher power finally threw me a lifeline. 🙂

And no mention of Shan on this blog is complete without a glimpse of Miss Alex, especially ’cause she looks cute in the lil denim outfit I bought way before she was ever born:

This completes the trifecta of posts about the person from my past and the decisions we made that forever connect us.

Tonight, I received the apology I hadn’t realized how much I’ve needed. But moreover, I learned that I’m not the only one battling demons, not that I would wish pain of this proportion on any human. Granted, I faced my biggest obstacles head-on, and long ago. And his dragons are taking longer to be slain. I say this not with any emotion other than understanding.

This reminds me of when my grandmother died. I battled with my grief immediately. Mom popped Valium to get through the tragedy, but when the pills ran out, the pain came rushing through the door, knocking the wind out of her. The mind can be a dark lair sometimes, and seeking refuge and answers there, in the aftermath of avoidance, usually creates more long-term damage.

I had a distinct memory tonight, one long forgotten, of when I offered for him to start his life over with me. That maybe we shouldn’t give up — that maybe, just maybe, we could make the situation work. All it would have taken from him would have been one word, a simple affirmative, and life would have been so different. I’m not implying that different would have equalled better, though.

When I was in the hospital recently, I was asked about this a dozen times. As much as I’ve put this behind me, there will always be a reason to dredge it up. My medical history will always have a mark on it, much like my heart.

But tonight, my heart is doing a lot better than it has been for the past two and a half years. And it will be fine until Valentine’s Day, when I will inadvertently realize that I might have been celebrating a second birthday, were a question answered in another way. But then I wouldn’t be where or who I am today, either, and maybe the end of one opportunity precipitated the accomplishment of others … and the dream of many more.

How you frustrate me, you blank Word document, silently taunting me for my inability to just choose a coherent starting point for my madness. I have thousands upon thousands of thoughts and images and shapes and patterns in my head, and do you THINK I can string them together into something resembling anything?

I have hundreds of typed pages of notes, and hundreds more that are handwritten. My book series is begging to be written. All it needs is the first fucking paragraph of the first book, and the rest, as they say, shall follow.

As a newswriter by trade, I know that once the lead graf is written, everything else will systematically follow. When you don’t have a strong lead, the story never feels quite right. And I need a strong lead, because if I don’t hook readers during the first book, nobody’s going to want to read the remaining six in the series.

I did make some good notes today. But then I learned that my blog has fallen into enemy hands (of the Veggie sort), and that pretty much killed my inspiration for the day.

But I have enjoyed my four-day weekend. I needed this. 🙂

So I was ranting about somebody from my past just two days ago, and wouldn’t you know, out of the bloody blue, I just got an e-mail from him this morning.

I don’t think he reads the website, so it was just eerie to get the note. It was sweet and endearing and well-crafted — just an attempt to say hello. *sigh* It’s a good thing I don’t want to be mad at him, because I could never be.

I’ll definitely write back, just not right now. I’m sure he’ll understand. I was the one who let the friendship drop into oblivion, and I admit to missing the old banter. It seems like he’s trying to rebuild that bridge in some way. Because, you know, I rock and everybody should want to have me in their lives. 😉

Sometimes, we grow up and realize what we *should* or *could* have done differently. And sometimes, we realize that, no matter what course of action we had chosen, things probably would have turned out the same way. It’s what happens after we pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off that counts — and I’m famous for getting through tough situations and just crumbling afterward. But this time, I didn’t. I made something of myself. I’ve gone on to love and lose, hope and hurt, succeed and screw up — and do it all over again.

I suddenly feel inspired to revisit my book series. I’m going to take a bloggy break and go focus on that today. I haven’t touched it in years, but today is the day I remember what it was I wanted to do before the whirlwind of life picked me up and forgot to put me down. 🙂

I know, I’m not being paid today, but I checked my e-mail at work to see what’s up.

I just got a letter to the editor, copied (of course) to every elected and appointed leader within the organization, calling for me to step down as editor. He’s enraged that I did an interview with a former child molester who is also a member of our collective profession.

Just a clue: I work for bleeding-heart, tree-hugging fuzzy-wuzzy types. And I did not tell everyone to love the guy I interviewed; I just did a story about how hard it is to commit a crime and move on with one’s life, how society imprisons you forever, even after you’ve done your time.

As far as I’m concerned, that reader only served to underscore my point about the HYPOCRISY that exists within our collective profession.