Caterwauling

Ah, morning of all mornings.

• Today I was looking for my khaki skirt but could not find it. So I saw my backup one (yes, my shopping compulsion pays off wonderfully) and decided to iron it.
• While the iron heated, I figured I’d blow-dry my hair; the hair dryer is on my desk next to the window.
• The window overlooks the parking lot, and I happened to be parked right beneath my window.
• My trunk was open. In broad daylight, of course. And had been all night, as I’d meant to take something out of the trunk yet somehow in the split second after hitting the lever to release it, I forgot all about it.
• So I dashed outside with wet hair and in flip-flops and closed the damn trunk.
• When I dashed, I bumped the ironing board and knocked down the hot iron — onto the shirt I was planning to wear today.
• I ran back upstairs from the car, shocked that everything was intact, closed the door and sniffed. The iron! The cotton! The mess!

But it’s cool — the little shitfest of bad luck helped me greatly, as I sailed the highways at warp speed and passed 12 cop traps that had ensnared other unfortunate saps who hadn’t been so lucky. So, thanks for taking the hit so I could fly! 🙂

In other news, after a bit of a rough night, I have a weird sense of calm today. I don’t know if that’s calm-before-the-storm complacency or just a rare moment of peace.

My brain has sort of been a misery-fest, and the next person to tell me I might benefit from therapy or maybe I need a sunlight lamp has a cordial invitation to remove my foot from their ass. But I digress.

I found some joy in riding with the sunroof/windows open (it’s HOT in D.C. today), blasting my weird medley of Carrie Underwood, Usher and Madonna remixes. I had one of these weird little revelations in that I don’t emphasize the value of my time. All those times I worked soul-sucking jobs and put up with energy-siphoning “friends” — for what?

For what. Seriously.

Anyway, I sit around and feel sorry for myself from time to time that I’m sooo busy and I have nothing to show for it. And that’s just not true. There was a great article today on defining happiness by how much you flourish. That those of us who are struggling to define happiness on a moment-by-moment basis rather than a taking-our-knocks and winning-in-the-end basis, then we’re probably under the illusion that we’re happy but we’re not always flourishing by stopping by Old Navy after work and buying a new pair of jeans (like I did yesterday. *blush*).

I oftentimes have little pity parties (party of one), feeling all sorry and shit for myself because I’m lonely. But I’m not lonely, really. Just alone. Definitely a difference. So I treat myself to little things here and there, knowing how I used to spoil certain others who, in retrospect, didn’t deserve it and trying to give myself little reasons to keep going. And I don’t want to give that up — really, I don’t. But maybe I’ve got to hone my big-picture-thinking abilities and fight for what I want/need now and work my ass off to get the bigger things … not work my ass off to get the little, insignificant awards that I will forget as soon as I’ve put them down and stopped admiring them for the moment that they’d captured my attention.

I was reading an article in Cosmo this morning about how women seek praise/acceptance/warm fuzzies while men seek monetary gain. That we all have a price for what we do, but women are satiated so much more with the intangibles while men have better bank accounts.

In that case, if you’ve exhausted my resources physically, emotionally and/or in any other way, I am SO sending your ass a bill. 🙂 I know someone in particular who’d better be ready to cough up a million or 12! I think professional therapists have it right — sure I’ll put up with your stupid ass … for a price. Yay free enterprise!

I wonder if sanity can be retroactive, too.

Anyway.

The things I think about while I’m driving. …

The “American Idol” elimination round that cuts the group of performers down to the final 12 is where you know you’re hooked. If I’m getting all sniffly and stupid watching performers I didn’t even enjoy that much, it shows me to be a compassionate sap. *drat*

I called two of the four eliminations right — Kinnick and Will. I’d thought Melissa would go too, but apparently she had the third-lowest number of votes (and not the second). We waved goodbye to Ayla instead, and man did I get tears in my eyes for her. She wanted this so badly — I’m sure they all do, but she let it show. Not that she was fabulous (she was next on my to-go list anyway) but you could tell this was her first disappointment in life.

Get used to it, honey. This might be the biggest thing to break her heart in life, but the pain dulls with each and every boo-boo. At least, that’s what I’m still hoping for personally, anyway.

I was unable to even take a guess at the fourth person to be eliminated. I knew it had to be a guy, but honestly, if we could have had three girls go and one guy, now THAT would have been a fair setup. But alas, Gedeon was the final one to go.

I was shocked. It was down to him and Bucky, and I was like, seriously? They put Kevin through? They put Melissa through and not Gedeon? It’s stupefying, really.

When the rejectees do their final performance, you can usually watch them and go, “Enh. I see why they’re going home.” Like when that Becky chick was booted off the first night, I was glad the public realized that pretty does not always equal talented.  When Ayla sobbed through her performance, I figured yeah, she needs some work. Fine.

But then Gedeon rocked the fucking house, and I realized my jaw must have hit Kadi in the head (as she was sitting on my lap, putting holes in my brand-new pantyhose with her claws. *sigh*). He was amazing. Absolutely, breathtakingly awesome. America fucked this one up big-time.

Oh well. I’m going to tune out from this mess and go watch “The Office.” Because on that show, everybody’s a loser, and we love them all for it. 😉

As I could not bear the thought of yet ANOTHER day of soup for lunch, I said fuck it and ate half a box of Samoas. Next time I whine about the size of my ass, I will be ashamed of this post. And likely, I will also long for more Samoas. … 😉

Dear Conservative Party,

I appreciate your invitation for me to give you money to attend an event, where I am to spend MORE money that will also go into your burgeoning wallets. Really, I am overwhelmed at your offer to not have any respite once the slackjawed imbecile in chief is gracefully and FINALLY evicted from the Oval Office.

In case I haven’t made myself clear? DREAM ON.

Love,

Dawn

P.S. In the meantime, props to Sabre for sending me The. Funniest. Thing. I have seen today: Our Dear Leader’s Daily Thought. Magnificient!

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Otherwise known as my favorite time of year, it’s “Idol” season.

I like Simon. Some of his facial expressions remind me of my grandmother. She wasn’t impressed by anybody either — you had to be pretty freaking special to register on her radar. I think those two could have been good friends, otherwise she would have made a hell of a judge on this odyssey!

Here’s my take on this week’s contestants:

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I wrote this in my novel the other night, and I really really liked it for some reason. Not that it’s brilliant prose, but it signifies a real turning point for my protagonist:

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I’ve noticed that the metro D.C. area seems to have more than its fair share of short buses. Like, I pass tons of them any given morning. TONS. All of them heading north into D.C. proper, to boot. Are the buses carrying the chief bumblefuck and his hapless cronies to the Oval Office?

Reader Poll Monday:

1. If you watched the Oscars last night, what did you think of Jon Stewart?
I *~*heart*~* Jon Stewart. He rocked socks. Hollywood needed to lighten up a little bit. I think he’ll be asked to host again. I mean, the Bjork dress/Dick Cheney joke alone was priceless!

2. What was the highlight of your weekend?
I worked on my novel (as it is National Novel Editing Month and all). I’m trying to stretch my imagination to really torture them creatively, and I’ve introduced the antagonist from hell and named that person after someone who once treated me like shit. It’s quite therapeutic.

3. Do you regularly buy lottery tickets?
Nope

4. What was the last thing you did that really gave you a sense of accomplishment?
Hitting the 50,000-word mark for National Novel Writing Month just shy of midnight on Nov. 30.

5. Do you consider yourself a good speller?
I won a spelling bee 100 years ago. And I am an editorial goddess by profession, so you could say I’ve picked up a dictionary or two in my day.

6. If forced to choose, would you rather drink a quart of a stranger’s urine or be completely covered in a stranger’s poop for an hour?
Sherri, the hell? 😉 If it’s asparagus pee, I’d have to go with the latter.

7. If you could spy, undetected, on another person for a 24 hour period, who would you choose to spy on?
Hehehe. I definitely have that person in mind, but you’re gonna have to ask me offlist!

8. What’s the greatest thing about living in your town/city?
The magnitude of it all. I don’t love Washington, D.C., but it’s really impossible to hate it. In one day, I see the Lincoln Memorial, Arlington Cemetery, the Pentagon, the Capitol, Kennedy Center and the famous “George Bush Center for Intelligence”. Sign cracks me up every single time. And yes, I’m aware I’m 12 years old!

9. Is your stove/oven electric or gas?
Gas. Absolutely love it.

10. Ask me something.
Will you and Erica try out for “TAR” again? Or will the producers realize how woefully boring/whiny the current cast is and remember your remarkable audition and call you in for next season?

Amazing the random series of thoughts that plague you when you’re sitting with a notebook all day, writing them down as they occur to you. …

DOMESTICITY

It is only now that we are being evicted that my neighbors and I talk to each other. And other than the B.O./cologne bandit bunch, I’ve been coexisting with some really good people. Although I am jealous that most of them are buying property to move to. And I also never realized how HOT Eddie in 103 is. *rowr*

I think I might have to hire movers. Because if it’s me and the two who offered to help, I am going to end up throwing away a lot more than I already planned to.

No, I still haven’t found a place. I haven’t even bought any boxes, let alone packed them. I keep hoping for a miracle to fall into my lap and I’ll find my dream place and it’ll be just the right price and I’ll walk out of the house with the clothes on my back and a cat under each arm and start all over from scratch.

I’m looking to move pretty quickly. I need to be out at the end of May but I understand lots of people are away from work that month and I get the idea that it would be appreciated if I did the life-upheaval thing sooner rather than later (read: April). It’s a money issue at this point, although I’d prostitute myself to not have to sit in traffic again anytime soon!

I think my blood pressure will go down quite measurably when my commute evaporates. I mean, that’s two hours a day, on average, that I’m in the car when I’ve got laundry/cleaning/going out/other fun stuff that I could be doing otherwise.

EXISTENTIALISM

I’ve been a big fat ball of suck lately. Stressed out, worried, exhausted, unhappy. Because I am the type of person who pretends everything is shiny and happy and fine until the point comes when I’m ready to erupt (usually over something dumb). I’ve in effect pushed everyone away from me and when I need to process my thoughts aloud the most, I don’t feel right dumping it on anybody. So I don’t.

The thing about that? My theory on friendships is like the bank account — both make deposits, both can withdraw. I’ve been the friend who kept adding to the account while others were only siphoning and there was nothing left for me in the end. And now, I’ve become the one who hasn’t been adding anything and I feel I have no right to even ask for an advance.

You know what worries me more than anything? When my hunches and visions and deja vu dissipate. I fare well when I get a glimpse of the future — even if it’s simply a future that I want (i.e., a daydream) rather than something that might actually be coming (i.e., a premonition).

I had a heart-to-heart talk with myself today, and it came to me that I can see the NEXT part of my life clearly — I just can’t see how I will GET there from here. But identifying the problem is probably half of the solution. I’ve been busy picking at scabs when I should be slathering them with Neosporin.

I have a question to answer for my performance review regarding where I’d like to see my career in 12 months. I am thinking about applying that one to my life (not to turn in to be kept in my personnel file, mind you) — where do I want to be in 12 months? Lately I feel like I’ve been swimming against the current, like I’ve sort of been trying to fight against things that are probably naturally ordained to happen. Let’s chalk this one up to “Needs Improvement” and not ask someone with my (current) self-image to try to rate herself when she’s feeling like a 3 out of 10 in just about every life domain at present.

It’s been a crappy couple of weeks for me. Just a random series of suckitude coupled with feeling like shit on a shoe. There’s a line from one of my favorite songs that says, “How do you dream when you can’t fall asleep?” And I haven’t been sleeping. Nor have I been dreaming. It’s been sort of voluntary, though — like I’ve thrown the wrench into the works in this odd experiment in which I tried to discover if I’d be happier if I didn’t dream at all because you can’t miss what you never wanted.

IN SUM

Believe it or not, I’m in a healthier mindset than I’ve been in a long time. I’ve just been struggling because there are so many things I’ve wanted to do — things I’ve wanted to love and cherish — and I’m just not feeling it. At least, maybe not in their current incarnations. And Miss Passive-Aggressive takes it out on herself for not being able to be Suzy Sunshine even on the small scale — for coming apart at the seams when she tries to stuff her true self away. For searching relentlessly for peace and for seemingly missing it at every turn. For knowing what I want and not going after it, well, just because.

I’m not as perfect as I thought I was 10 years ago. Not even close. But I’m starting to see that instead of getting mad at myself for not being as self-sufficient as I claimed I’d always be, I need to channel that energy into cultivating an environment where someone else might not be afraid to step in and help. Because right now, there’s barbed wire surrounding an electric fence, in which I have ensnared myself. And maybe instead of keeping the doors closed so that no one can see the mess inside, it’ll be a relief to let someone else in long enough for them to say, “It’s not so bad. Really.”

Because I’ll bet it really isn’t. All I need is the fresh perspective — one I will believe in — to see that.