Caterwauling

I decided I needed some retail therapy today, but after all is said and done, I have few purchases yet a great need for SOME kind of therapy!!!

Because the car missed its inspection by about five months, I got that and its emissions test today. Hooray. Got gas and paid the insurance and monthly payment today (the latter is an absurd amount, but I digress), too. Debated about getting a wash, but after unloading upward of $700 on the car this month, I figured it was enough. Gotta leave some money for ramen and mac ‘n cheese!

To clear my mind (Don’t ask why. Just don’t — it’s far from bad, but it’s hard to see where anything good will come of where my mind wandered when it was unsupervised!), I went to Springfield Mall, which was a nightmare, although no less of a nightmare than when I’d gone to the Tar-zhay at Potomac Yard last weekend. At Chez Potomac, I’d found the last available parking spot in the lot (at the Waaaaaayyyyy back of it), had the blinker on and waited for the occupant to pull out. What happened but some crazy bitch swooped in and took the spot I’d claimed! Oh, I was furious. I parked it right behind her and waited for her ass to get out so I could kill her. But, alas, I waited at least five minutes and she was stupid enough to take the spot but not stupid enough to get out when I was in a frothy fit. Grrr. Kill. …

Anyway, Springfield. *sigh* Parking was an atrocity, but the wait in line at a clothing store damn near killed me. I know I shouldn’t be spending money on anything right now, but I’d promised myself to buy one outfit for work every month. I didn’t get an outfit, but I saw a shirt on a sale rack that was sort of cute. A little slutty for the office, but this is me we’re talking about — most of my clothes fall under the headings “whorish,” “sleazy,” “casual” or “denim.” In any event, I didn’t want to try on the shirt because I had to pee, so I jumped in line and hoped for the best.

Forty-fucking-five minutes later, I got waited on. Was I in the back of the line, you ask? NO!!! I was THIRD — behind two girls who were buying like $500 worth of shit EACH. And they had coupons and sensor tags and shit to deal with. There I stood with my $15 shirt (which rang up for $20, but I was jaundiced and really couldn’t care what the price was), as everyone in line BEHIND me put their shit back and stomped out.

In any event, that’s all I spent on myself. Hooray. But what I did do was renew my vehicle registration and get a personalized plate. w00t! It will say “I-BLOG,” after Pratt’s brilliant suggestion. So there went another $50 on the car today, but it was for me, because I have HATED my plate because the letters remind me of the name of one of the thousands of people in my life who are better left forgotten.

Related, as my beloved Samantha got her innards examined, I was reading the new Cosmopolitan, particularly the part where men say they really get annoyed by all the peripheral relationships to which women cling. I found that interesting — I pretty much can figure out what a straight male thinks, but I didn’t know that one. Per the article: “Women retain draining relationships … out of some twisted sense of obligation. … Bottom line, Life is too short to spend a Saturday night dining with the girl who occcupied the mat next to you in yoga three years ago.”

That struck me pretty hard. I tend to feel guilty when I don’t do my part to upkeep relationships with old colleagues and friends, but that little blurb made me breathe a huge sigh of relief. I attempted to send an e-card to an old friend this week for her birthday, but it bounced back because the address is no longer valid. And I felt awful for not knowing how to reach her after we’d been such good friends for such a long time. But maybe growing apart was the universe’s way of letting us end on a good note and, more importantly, make room for people who would have a bigger impact on our present and future. Wow. This was a BIG revelation for me!

Now, of course, good friendships take work and both parties need to be working equally hard at it. But some people treat the end of a friendship (or romantic entanglement, for that matter) as the end of the world. Which is the furthest thing from the truth. There are people I will miss to death — people whose names I will be screeching in the old-folks’ home, after a lifetime of wondering where they were. But there are the people who will be at my side long before that day comes and — if I’m lucky — when in fact that day does arrive. And, sure, I wish I did have more time to talk to those whom I wish to keep close, but like my beloved Shan says, true friends know that the other will always be a phone call away, no matter how busy they are (we do it, and we’re three time zones apart!). And when life gets crazy, a true friend understands that sometimes you’re going to be buried under an avalanche; these friends will be there waiting for you when you’re reaching for daylight again (after they’ve reached in to help you out of it, of course — none of this cowtowing to the assholes who left you to flounder and suddenly remember you when you’re doing better. But I digress). And if they’re lying in wait in hopes of ambushing you, then you need to call your magistrate ’cause they’re stalkers. 😉

People who were once true to you will leave you in peace, if peace is what you couldn’t find when they were around. The rest who poke at you with a stick are better left to seek others who might be able to love them in the way you just couldn’t anymore without jeopardizing your sanity. And, accordingly, we ourselves will find others who will love us more and who will find ways to keep from losing us to the ravages of time.

On iTunes: Faith Evans, “Kissing You”

We interrupt this otherwise perfectly boring existence to ask, because inquiring minds want to know:

Did you ever have a deliciously lascivious thought pop up out of nowhere (typically at the worst possible time), last only a moment but yet serve to disturb your entire center of gravity for an extended period of time?

Yeah, neither have I. 😉 Nor have I ever been so downright discombobulated by it that I couldn’t stop thinking about it. 😀

I need to go to the bathroom now. Carry on. …

On iTunes: Jeff Buckley, “Everybody Here Wants You”

On iTunes: Crossfade, “Cold”

I’m going all “Bridget Jones” after being inspired by an uninspiring report by NBC4 on how singles get the sucky end of the deal sometimes. I wanted to rise above the whining that the people in the report did and, well, do some whining of my own. 😉

(Disclaimer: I am not talking about any place in particular — I’m just sharing some errant thoughts and observations from friends’ lives and from my “wild” past.)

Folks in the report brought up that they feel like, as singletons, their lives aren’t viewed as being as “important” as their colleagues’. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never felt that kind of discrimination in the workplace, although I did take it upon myself in many instances throughout the years to put in extra time because I knew others couldn’t. I figured, I needed the experience or, if I were lucky, the overtime. But as I get older and — let’s face it — wearier, I find that time is valuable. I love to work — don’t get me wrong. I love to just be doing something, even if it isn’t curing cancer or saving the world, just so long as I am making a difference in somebody’s world.

To that, I say that’s our own damn fault. Really. I don’t blame the married or otherwise coupled folks for the way I choose to spend my time. Sure, I’d rather be relaxing somewhere, but when you love what you do, there’s no harm in giving it your heart — especially if you don’t exactly have another human to whom to give that heart.

But I do feel strongly that singles don’t have it so good. I mean, I would be willing to shack up with somebody so that I can pay less rent money and actually have a few bucks left over from my expenses to actually enjoy a dinner out or spoil myself with something that I’ve always wanted. On the downside, there is often bathroom-sharing, doubled electricity bills and bigger supermarket totals, but to have a regular fuck buddy wouldn’t be such a bad tradeoff. 😉 Hell, I don’t even need a ring — unless it is of another variety. 😉

One thing they said in the news broadcast was about health care — how employers contribute more money on behalf of their employees with spouses and offspring. To that, I say that employers should, then, write us a check for what we didn’t get that our breeder friends did. Of course, one could argue that dragging pint-sized humans to the doctor with their snotty noses every two weeks deserves some kind of bonus, but until my day comes, I’d be happy to have that money dumped into my future privatized Social Security account (yeah, like that’ll ever happen, cowboy).

On the other hand, I can say that friends and I have been treated as second-class citizens because we haven’t shat out a kid or 10. I remember I was at a job when I was 27 and everyone treated me like a spinster because I hadn’t had kids yet (oh, the story that I didn’t choose to tell them …). By my age, most had had at least one and I can name several colleagues who had shat out three by that “old” age. And it irked the living hell out of me when there was no school and they’d bring in their brats to run rampant through the halls. Something that bothered me, but to a much lesser extent, was married folks who could get away with making personal calls because the calls were going to their spouses. Even if they were talking about grocery shopping or what color the sky was that afternoon, it was deemed acceptable because they were Married.

God forbid a single gal chat with her boyfriend or even her best gal pal about barhopping and have someone overhear it. In this case, I get where the whiners on the newscast felt that their lives were less important — what is important to the single person is often frowned upon by those who are settled and/or those who are charged with holding up decorum. Sure, some former “wild children” listen wistfully to your oh-god-my-underwear-was-hanging-off-the-chandelier stories as they wipe baby goo from their blazers, but let’s face it, the debate between scandalous thongs versus sweet boycut shorts has no business being discussed the same way women gather and talk about the size of their engagement rings.

And in an example of equality in life suckage regardless of committed status, I guess that neither one will ever get ahead in the rat race. One doesn’t get it based on not being taken seriously as a singleton; the other doesn’t get it based on the fact that she’s saddled with grown-up responsibilities. Related, I called two interviewers about why I didn’t get jobs with them (not that I cared — I got what I wanted. But I wanted to see what I could have done to improve my presentation). Simply put, I was told I was overqualified, and I was livid that others deemed that I wouldn’t commit to the long haul because of that. And it kind of burned my ass that people sit around judging you about your capabilities or your long-range plans when they don’t know anything about you. What would they have said if I had a munchkin at home? Would they have viewed me as responsible, or would they have turned me down based on, “Oh, she won’t be available round-the-clock, so no thanks”?

Let’s face it, I agree that being single sucks. My closing argument is that your primary role in life is as a worker as opposed to a lover. Not to say that we don’t have various secondary roles as children, siblings, friends, etc., but those aren’t always top-tier commitments. And when you’re broke and hungry, there ain’t nobody to take your miserable ass out to dinner. Also, when you’re feeling hideous and crappy, there ain’t nobody required by law to fuck your funky ass. On the other hand, we always have the possibility that things will change down the line for us and that, someday, we will be the ones who are the envy of everyone else. Let’s hope so, anyway! 😉

P.S. Oh, and if I do have kids, I cannot WAIT to force people to buy cases of Girl Scout cookies and other shit like others’ brats are selling for school/youth groups/churches/etc.! I have bought more unnecessary shit because more unnecessary progeny wanted an iron-on patch for a sash, I swear!

On iTunes: Tori Amos, “Taxi Ride”

The more attention I pay to my life, the more I notice a pattern of things happening in twos.

The proverbial “they” say that things happen in threes. Insofar as deaths, I’ve experienced that phenomenon. But when it comes to good luck, perhaps I’m underachieving, but I notice that things in my life happen in twos.

Speaking in vagueries, I ask you to think about it. Safeway always offers 2-for-1 deals. Shoe stores have you buy one and get the other half-off. Job seekers spend a great deal of time digesting themselves because they are unemployed but often get two offers at the same time. Singles find themselves lonely for months but then suddenly get two offers FOR THE SAME NIGHT!

I think it’s the universe’s way of apologizing to us — like, it’s trying to say, “I suck. I know. After (X amount of time of complete and utter barrenness), I will give you the joy of making a CHOICE!”

I’m not complaining — I have tended to take advantage of all of the above situations, typically shuffling the schedule around a bit to accommodate everything. A part of me thinks it’s being greedy to not say no to things, but the part of me who seems to still feel like she’s weathered the Great Depression and desperately fears another season devoid of any sprig of hope, I almost believe I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t take advantage of every single opportunity that presented itself. And, there’s another very humbled part of me that wonders if I deserve such fortune to have a bounty before me from which to choose. The opposite part of me remembers what it has been like to go hungry (without nutritional nourishment) and not even have spiritual nourishment to keep me alive. That opposite part also watches people feasting at the expense of others and continually tempting karma with their “the world revolves around me” ways.

As a Gemini, I deal with duality all the time — some things come in pairs, while others are diametrically opposed. As such, I have a very hard time making choices, always wondering if the other option not chosen would have been more fulfilling. On the other hand (there goes that dichotomy again!), I believe intuition always steers us toward the right course and that we don’t ever really need to consciously make a choice. I guess I just wish we had more time while we are young enough to sample all that life offers us. And, because I have a mad addiction to lines from “The Prince of Tides,” I submit to you the following: “And I wished again that there were two lives apportioned to every man … and every woman.”

*sigh* The reasons behind this blog entry are properly hidden between the lines. But, suffice it to say, my intuition is pointing me toward a crossroads once more, perhaps in apology for inadvertently dropping me in the desert for the past few months. I have not reached said crossroads, but I know what it is going to look like. It’s going to be a match between what might not theoretically look right at first glance but will definitely feel right, versus what works on paper but perhaps not so much in implementation. And the thing is, I’ve made so many wrong choices in my life that I look forward to moving toward the right ones without external forces trying to blow dust in my eyes — and, perhaps I might have been the worst offender in that department.

In any event, not to sound as self-entitled as some of my peers, but I do believe the universe owes me a favor or two right now, particularly in compensation for all the jagoffs and fucked-up situations I’ve endured while just trying to be the better person or to make up for something I thought I’d done wrong. I had this vision as I was driving this morning — I felt like I was going to be OK, and I felt like my salvation was coming soon enough. Armed with that belief, I know that whatever I do is going to be divined in some way to happen as it should. I also know that I will appreciate having the choice between a life preserver and a life boat. I just hope that there are some good-looking crew members on that boat, because I want to be saved in style. 😉

On iTunes: Evanescence, “Solitude”

I had the utmost pleasure of going to Petsmart and being buried in an avalanche of litter boxes. *sigh* An otherwise good day gone to shit, if you ask me. 😉 And I broke two nails in the explosion-o-plastic and nearly missed a concussion from an errant box of jumbo liners designed for plus-sized cat asses. (I bought those, too, BTW.)

Even though this was my Valentines Day treat for the girls, I hate that litterboxes are so overpriced. I mean, they are containers that are full of shit, and you (er, your puddy tats) supply the shit!

In any event, I had a hard time finding one that had an opening big enough for Maddie’s fat ass, but I ended up with this one, and she loves it already. Thank god, ’cause she poops outside the box so often that I needed to find something that she would WANT to haul her ass INTO.

Leave it to my cat to try to take a nap in the ‘box. I don’t care what she does in it, just as long as she hits it once in awhile:

Oh, and that’s Kadi trying to cramp her style. Kadi never misses a chance to aggravate her big sister!

I was talking to a few other women in the pet store, and one said I was lucky to just have one who shits on the floor because she couldn’t fit in the old litterbox (I’ve had to keep the lid off, and even then she doesn’t always go in. Hurrah). One gal said her cat just shits in the bed. Maddie only wipes her ass on the bed, so apparently I am the more fortunate human!

Oh, and Tidy Cats may start paying me royalties for advertising their product now!

On iTunes: Zero 7, “In the Waiting Line”

I love Virginia because there are dozens of license plate designs and unlimited options for cutesy saying on your plate. I’ve been wanting to get a personalized plate for awhile, but I’m also thinking about whether or not I want to move across state or District lines, so I don’t want to make the investment if in fact I should be fucking insane enough to want to pack my shit and pay people to, like, move it and stuff.

I’ve gotten accustomed to the drive — I’ve found that spacing out and not noticing how fucking NUTS everyone else is makes for a way more pleasant twice-a-day commute. When I do feel like focusing my eyes, I am often entertained by the license plates of the people I almost hit when they cut me off. My favorite is I-H8-495 and its counterpart, I-H8-395 (I travel both of those highways every day — priceless!)

In any event, check out some rejected license plates in the metro area. I decided I want to apply for “SMRT-S” (smartass) because it’s the only thing that will fit on a plate that doesn’t involve “Get off my ass, you psychotic fuck.” And as far as not issuing some plates of questionable taste, I think we should give the plate to anyone who applies for “Asshole” or “Dumbass” or the like because, well, the first step is admitting it. Most people who are Oxygen Thieves tend to fail to realize it, but the rest of us don’t need to see their vanity plate to know that abortion isn’t just a choice — it’s a necessity sometimes.

On iTunes: Arthur Loves Plastic, “Persona Non Grata”

Said after I’d mumbled something through a mouthful of orgasmic French toast with Grand Mariner whipped cream:

Tiff: He has a 12-inch what????

Me: P … owerbook.

😀

Filed under: Things that sound dirty but totally aren’t. 😉

In any event, Happy Heart-on Day!

On iTunes: Minnie Driver, “Invisible Girl”

I didn’t give up anything material for Lent — last year I gave up carbs and loved it. But I don’t have the means to do South Beach right now, so I looked for something easier to live without.

During typical Lenten seasons, usually, I give up dating (oh, the stories I could tell as to why. …), but this year, I’d like to give up celibacy, if I can! 😉

After a long talk with my dearest friend Shan last night — and laughing more deliriously than I have in months, BTW — I have decided to part with the following … permanently:

Self-doubt
Ain’t nobody gonna believe in me if I don’t. I always figured I don’t have the life or the love that I’ve wanted because, even though I know I have a lot to give, I also have a lot to hide. I tend to forget that I earned my scars and, while there is no reason to flaunt them, there’s also no reason to pretend that the road wasn’t long and weary. I had one of those revelations this morning in which I realized that I pretend nothing is wrong when everything seems to be — and maybe I need to have a little more faith because I know how to make better things happen to make bad things pass. One good action generates an instance of good luck, and these green Irish eyes are way prettier when they are smiling!

Self-deprecation
I always figured that if I insulted myself first, then I’d beat everyone else to the punch. (Years of having my spirit stomped on are talking here.) Unfortunately, during my weak moments, I fall susceptible to believing my own bullshit. And, quite honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck what people do or don’t think of me — I have better things to worry about. Say what you will about me and get over yourself, because most of the nasty comments I’ve heard have veiled a touch of jealousy. Yes, I am capable and smart and sometimes even witty about it — I’m not full of myself and I don’t have to prove to anybody anymore that I am just average. I’m not. And never will be. Nor do I have to disguise my abilities and feelings and insights because others aren’t comfortable with someone who’s so in-tune with the universe. And, I will change the world someday. That time hasn’t come yet. In the meantime, I will be gathering my strength and not wasting it on pretending I am nothing.

Self-imposed limitations
I can do anything, and I know it. And, some things, I can do a thousand percent better than many others. I guess, as a girl, I’ve learned to not do things to the best of my ability because girls aren’t supposed to show off. God, that sounds archaic, but it happens sometimes. There is a part of me that is very content to fly under the radar in certain situations, and that’s fine. But that’s no reason to fade into oblivion in other areas. And, while I’m never afraid to try as many new things as possible, I sometimes put up a mental block and can’t excel at certain things because of it. Why do we do that? Am I really that afraid of erasing the cache of Bon Jovi lyrics in my head to make room for new, more useful knowledge?

Self-righteousness
I don’t think I’m full of myself — if anything, my faith in everything around me has been sufficiently shaken, of late. But, among my many recent revelations was that things are not going to happen the way I planned them to be, and this is opening me up to so many more possibilities. There will be a lot of risk involved, but something tells me the reward will be so much sweeter. It’s amazing, opening one’s mind up so much that the heart can’t help but follow. I guess I’ve never had anything in my life that made me happy, and I figured that if I could surround myself with people and things that were “just so,” then I’d find that long-elusive bliss. But, the picture shifts over time — the clarity you had in your youth was just your limited worldview in action. Eventually, you start to dream in color and sway to different rhythms … ones you never knew existed until you opened yourself up to acknowledging — and, ultimately, appreciating them.

Grudges
Hoo boy, can I hold a grudge. And, I’m tired. It mentally and even physically exhausts you when you can’t forgive someone. But, as of this moment, I forgive anyone who has ever pissed me off and I acknowledge that they might have been pissed off by something I said or did. This is not to say that I want rainbows and roses and reunions and such. I just want for everyone who is holding onto something destructive to let it slide. The memory has a funny way of lessening the pain of what really hurt you and letting the better memories shine through. Take it from me, you can’t go back to a situation that caused you stress, but you can hope that everyone else saw it as a teachable moment, the way you have. And, often, that’s the best you can do. Every relationship has its time in the sun. Don’t let the clouds of unhappiness keep you from getting a tan (or, in my case, freckles) again. Sometimes, you just can’t go back. But, you can always move past it.

Unrelated, the quote of the night (and no, I will NOT qualify it!): “Aww, Alex will get her Aunt Dawn laid yet!” 😀

On iTunes: Bloodhound Gang, “Fire Water Burn”

I have been thinking about going incognito again, and I think I found the perfect domain name. On the other hand, having a blog attached to my real name does serve to keep me in check (well, sort of!). Just keep that in mind if you ever come here and I’m AWOL … it will just mean that I am somewhere else.

Why I say this today is because, well, I’m feeling a bit … um, distracted. I spent five months worrying about money. And not to say that I still don’t lose sleep over the lack thereof, well, I’m starting to breathe again and can fit other things into my head, too. And today, well, it’s Friday night and I’m all dressed up with no one to do nowhere to go. And for some reason, it’s affecting me and the imagination has kind of gone on an open-ended field trip.

And THAT, my friends, is all the detail I will be giving out tonight!

See why I need to move the damn blog? 😉

On iTunes: Janet Jackson, “Throb”