Caterwauling

Well, what is there to talk about? Heath Ledger died. Suzanne Pleshette died. Who’s No. 3?

I mean, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan did themselves in. But when it’s someone young, (appears to be) stable and who has several Oscar-worthy performances left in them, it’s a real bummer. (My favorite Heath film, however, will always be “10 Things I Hate About You.”)

It also makes one feel OLD when the person who died (a la Heath, of an apparent prescription overdose) is a few years younger. Further — you wanna try a life that drives you to distraction, come walk around in my shoes for a day, eh? Not saying mine is any worse on an apples-to-apples basis, but man, if these celebrities have nothing to live for, why the fuck am I still here?

What a shitty day yesterday. The Fed cut interest rates, the market tanked, the market staged a pseudo-recovery, Apple came out with great earnings and lost $30 in the aftermarket because its forward guidance wasn’t good enough, and two stars’ lights went out. In any event, blah and rest in peace. Here’s to hoping today brings better things.

I spent some time last night drafting a post on some of the happier moments in my life. But then I had a cat howling all goddamned night and another cat shit right next to my bed — on my newly received voter registration card. Aaaargh! There isn’t enough time to get a new one before the primaries. I *think* I’m supposed to vote at the nearby elementary school. Shit.

Top that off with a command to drive to Pittsburgh and back in a one-day span — a place I’ve declared I’m never going to again — because I don’t have enough goddamned stress in my life already. Gawd forbid I get the house to myself for the day instead. You know who the person is that I really miss hanging out with? Me. At this point, I wouldn’t even recognize her on the street even if we ran straight into each other.

I wrote this epic post from work today, where several of us escaped to get some peace of mind even though it is a holiday. It wasn’t always a company holiday, though — I started on MLK day three years ago.

I was such a scared little rabbit back then, having been unemployed for five months and having a whole $35 in my pocket from selling books on Amazon.com. It’s funny — years later, I am pretty much over all that fear and frustration and exhaustion, and yet I still somehow will always wonder what would have happened to me had I not been hired when/where I was. I’d rather not think about it.

I remember seeing some dollar bills on my boss’ desk. I think it was three or four bucks — change from buying lunch. I remember not being envious that he had food (which I had done without for a long time — too bad I didn’t lose any weight from not eating); I was just thinking how far I could make those few dollars stretch if I had them. A gallon of gas. Thirty packs of ramen noodles. Three items from the McDollar menu. All of those were such a dream and a treat back then.

Pathetic, eh?

Today I had a wee bit of a panic attack at work. And since I’ve been having a handful of those lately, I was starting to think maybe they were work-related. But alas, the pattern has emerged that I flip out only when my mother contacts me, no matter where I am. So even though I’m under a lot of pressure at the office, it’s still pressure that I can manage. It’s everything else, however, that’s pushing me over the edge.

I mean, to the point where my colleagues are not necessarily encouraging me to try Adult Friend Finder, but that if I were already contemplating it, then maybe it isn’t THAT bad of an idea, I get the message loud and clear that I do just need to get laid already.

It’s just too bad most of the “good” ones are married, gay or are serial-killers-in-training! And the others, hell if I know how to read them. *sigh*

But anyway, I thought I did a good job of hiding my downright insanity in the early days of my job. I kept to myself and kept my problems to myself. And these days, I feel like I can’t hide anything. I mean, I was $35 away from being homeless back then! I found my faith during that period, since some of you have been asking. I kind of said, “All right, God. If you want me to make it, this is my last opportunity.”

I wonder if I can say that the next time I’m dating someone. Not that I care much about attracting the opposite sex anymore, at this point. I was out with one of my guy friends recently and he was feeling sorry for me because I can’t bring anyone home anymore. Lord. I think my cherry has grown back. And it’s vacuum-sealed!

In any event, I’m aware that my mindset will determine my direction. I guess I’m just scared to dream right now, because that’s all that’s holding me together at this point. And I couldn’t bear to learn that any of these dreams can’t come true, because the visions are crumbling under the weight of reality and I’ve got nothing to replace them with right now.

I’ll be OK. It’s definitely not the “No Bullshit ’08” year I envisioned. But I am looking very much forward to getting to Christmas, looking back and wondering why I was so tweaked out with stress in the first place.

My recent crisis of faith is pretty much averted. I went to church and even enjoyed it. But I will admit to spending our prayer time giving copious amounts of praise that the pastors I don’t enjoy weren’t the ones delivering the message today. Hey, all they told me to do was talk to God — nobody defined what I should have said! 😉

I stayed after for this social thing for new members and folks who lead the various prayer groups. It was awful at first. I mean, everyone’s so nice, and that’s the bad part — I was claustrophobic in our tiny space and wanted to run screaming. But it was good — I’d say it was worth showing up for. The morning/early afternoon gave me some much-needed peace, and it only an hour and a half after leaving there to lose all my patience and then some — a record!

We had an exercise in church today, to turn to the person next to us and declare, “You need me.” And shortly thereafter, we were to turn to them and say, “I need you.”

It was meant to be a powerful moment, and for some it was. I guess I just wish it were one of those weeks where I was sitting with someone good, for it to really mean something. But the guy next to me was asleep for most of the sermon, so I wasn’t feeling his enthusiasm for me. 😉

I think I’m going to try to get into this small-group stuff that they keep beating me over the head with. The pastor’s wife said she was shocked to see me thinking about getting involved. (Heathen child holds her crown.)

I told her that I am overwrought and I’m in no condition to be in a prayer group/bible study/volunteer group when I am probably more in need of help than the people I’m supposed to be helping. I added that I am so accustomed to being a leader in every domain of my life, that I really don’t know how to be a follower in general but in association with a church in particular.

Faith is an area that I am shaky at best, and religion mystifies me to no end, and she suggested that maybe I supplement the group thing by finding a friend with faith and learning how to walk in faith alongside them.

We’ll see. I don’t have time to see my drinking buddies, so making time for friends of faith is going to be a challenge to prioritize. Hanging out with Christian friends who drink, however, would be like two birds with one stone, so let’s multi-task together!

Part of today’s lesson was to be able to accept help when it is offered. I don’t ask for help because it’ll never come, for one. And secondly, I have had too many instances of helping people and then never seeing them again, especially when it was my turn to be in need. So whether or not it’s a pride thing in not accepting help, I don’t know.

The pastor had said that we weren’t meant to walk alone, that we shouldn’t be sitting alone in a hospital waiting room, or reading a coroner’s report by ourselves, or spending the night after a death/divorce/breakup all alone. Ding ding ding — I’ve done all of the above, all by myself … because even though there may have been someone I *could* have called, there was no one I felt I *should* have bothered.

I’ve let my work take over my life. Or maybe it’s an excuse I’ve used to keep people as far away from me as I possibly could. I’ve always been “fine” — but it’s admittedly been precarious at best. I keep to myself because I’ve had too many people exploit my vulnerability to cause me even more pain. And even though I do know some very strong, trustworthy folk, they have their own problems/friends/priorities.

I figure that if I don’t have anything to add to the relationship bank account, I have no business trying to make a withdrawal. And that’s sad because I met someone awesome recently, who can turn out to be a really good friend if only I return a damn call/e-mail once in awhile.

But shit, like I keep trying to tell my mother, I have absolutely nothing left to give. I can’t say no to anyone anymore, even as much as I want to. So I say no to things and people that would make me happy because I cannot jam another thing into my life. And how said is it to take a pass on juggling in some joy but there’s still plenty of time for the things I wish I never had to deal with?

In any event, today’s church fiesta pulled me back an inch or two from the ledge I’ve been about to go over. I don’t know how to take a full step back, not until the pressure eases up at work and home. And that’s the killer — there are no signs of a reprieve anywhere. It’s not a case of “Keep up this pace for the next six weeks or six months and you’ll get a break.” Au contraire.

And that’s why I’m nuts. Give me a goal date that I can take a breath, one that doesn’t entail, “Great, now you get even more pressure!” I am starting to understand the people who have challenged me (and not in a good way) the most — they work in spurts for a reason. The more they achieve, the more is demanded of them. Similarly, the less they achieve, the less they get bothered.

It’s not in my nature to give up on anyone, but when they’ve given up on themselves, I don’t know that I have it in me to rescue them. Not anymore, anyway. And my patience is gone — you can’t expect me to continually regenerate a fresh supply when I’m the only one exerting any effort on the see-saw.

But this brings me back to today’s sermon, that your expectations of people are directly defined by the types you’ve allowed into your life. And some of my key players have been nothing but lead weights, soldered to our ankles with no other purpose than to hold us back and drag us down. Even if that wasn’t their intention, it’s what happened.

So anyway, I am grateful that, of the friends in my (woefully neglected) circle, each one is an upstanding citizen. I don’t define a person’s worth by their faith — I’ve met holy rollers who use Jesus to justify their uselessness, and I know pagans who are the poster children for what an amazing, loving and caring citizen we all should be — but I do seek out those who are people I want to be LIKE and be WITH.

The way I figure, back in the Bible days, everyone was hearing voices and being drawn to make miracles. These days, if you hear a voice and admit to it, you get institutionalized. But even if we don’t hear voices per se, we do have gut instincts. And they can be positive ones that lead to goodness or they can be demonic ones that lead to hellacious results.

I’m exhausted with the latter. I want my affiliates to be the type of person I’m trying to become, because they give me faith that this person can actually exist. But it’s hard right now — I’m not anywhere close to the person I want to be. I think I was getting there, but I’ve been pulled off-course.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been so ambivalent toward the church’s stance on community involvement and neglectful toward the real relationships I did manage to form on my own. How can I be a role model to anyone? How can I expose how screwed-up I’ve become? How can I give up yet another moment for someone else without getting some peace for ME in there somewhere?

But then again, maybe if I’d been involved when all was well (or well enough), then maybe these folks would be there for me now while I’d glady jump off a building if I could find one that was more than three stories tall. …

Productive day. Well, it is if you call seeing “27 Dresses”, laughing and sobbing heartily, and then leaving and having an awesome panic attack a shining example of productivity.

The movie was delightful. But it’s not your movie … oh, no — it was written, produced and filmed for ME and no one else. Katherine Heigl’s “Jane” was so busy attending to everyone else’s every need that she neglected to realize that she had any needs of her own.

Everyone took advantage of her generosity and grace — they came to depend on it and take it for granted. (Hmm, does that sound like anyone we know and love who, say, authors this blog?) And being forced to organize the wedding of the love of her life — a wedding that was NOT to her — well, *gasp* and *sigh.*

I’m going to can it right here and now, lest I write my own movie in this blog post, although one can argue that the movie WAS written with me in mind. 😉 But it makes you wonder whether — if you find you might be able to be with the person about whom you’ve dreamed — the magic that you expect will be there, well, WILL actually be there.

In any case, I’d told my friends that I had three things planned for the weekend: eating, seeing this movie, and dying. The order in which those happened, however, was optional. And now that I’ve knocked out two of three, the last can come at any moment now.

Actually, the last moment almost came when some fuckhead in a big, ugly truck changed lanes and almost killed me. I was laying on the horn and high-beaming but I couldn’t slow down because everyone has to live up your ASS on the highway, so I practically got run off the road.

I ended up jamming on the brakes as fuckwit came over into my lane and actually went over one more so he could turn left. Motherfucker. (There was a great scene in the movie where “Jane” went outside to scream “Motherfucker!” to release some steam, and she ended up realizing she had stepped into someone’s 50th anniversary party. Hah. Perfect. That’s something I would do/have done!)

Anyway, when I got cut off, I screamed my usual, “DIE! IN A FIRE!!!”

And I realize I need to stop saying that. Someone pointed out to me yesterday that I am under so much stress lately that the perhaps-not-so-major things are fair game for my rare-but-colorful, full-on conniption fits. OK, so maybe it wasn’t fair of me to suggest at a very loud volume that someone deserved to be anally prodded with prehistoric artifacts and then beaten with them. But in my mind, the reaction was an equal and appropriate response to the undue duress caused to me.

Almost everyone I know is falling apart, healthwise. We’re in our 30s and comparing maladies and meds. Moreover, we’re all coming out of the doctor with the same advice from them: “Reduce your stress levels.” I’ve been on medication for a (physical, thank you very much) condition for over three months and guess what? THE PILLS AREN’T WORKING. The doctor’s assessment: “It’s a stress-related condition. And losing weight wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Um. Stress = stress eating. Stress eating = ass fat = more stress. Ergo, more stress eating.

In other news, I renewed my lease today. Thank you, bastards for the $75/mo. increase. It sounded nicer when they said it would be a 5% increase. Hah.

But yeah, when I turned in my lease extension, my grumbling to myself was, “Here’s to another year of total bullshit.” The home I have grown to hate because it offers me absolutely nothing in the way of comfort, privacy or peace, I’ve just agreed to pay more for, and for another 14 months. How FUCKING special.

No wonder I had a panic attack in the middle of 355. I am accustomed to moronic drivers. Fuck, this car has cost me so much money, go ahead and dent it or steal it. Shit, I had it at the mechanic’s this morning — unlocked with the keys in the ignition for the two hours it took them to get to my 9 a.m. appointment (at 11 a.m. Shit).

The panic wasn’t that I was going to die. The panic was that I have to suffer through another year, fiscal quarter, month, week, day, hour, MINUTE with this sandbag that’s standing in for a heart. That all my problems are happy to sit on their asses and make themselves at home for the long haul while I’m suffocating at not having a moment without something that feels like wrenching your asshole down a double-dong that’s void of Astroglide.

There are days when my faith comes easily. There are others in which it comes eventually. Tomorrow, I am going back to church after my one-week hiatus. Mostly because someone wrote to me and asked me specifically about meeting up afterward. I had written back that I was a little concerned from the prior week, that if I can’t spare the time to volunteer for the church, then maybe I’m not the type of member they’re looking for.

So help me, I cannot take on another commitment. I mean, I FELL ASLEEP IN A MEETING on Friday. Awesome. Nothing says “polished professional” like FALLING THE FUCK ASLEEP at a conference table.

So, we’ll see how tomorrow goes. But I’m telling you right now, it’s like Amway and they’re no doubt looking to get me involved. And right now, they’re not on my “If I Could Murder 10 People and Get Away With It” wish list, because the top spots are quite secure, but I could very well change that “10” to an “11” (or “50”) without a second thought. …

That’s my latest idea for a title for my autobiography. But, alas, I’m too busy to write it, so I’ll just keep on pretending my newly restarted smoking habit wasn’t only limited to Marlboro Lights. …

Any of you who see me on Instant Messenger may recognize today’s post title from my status bar. Because it’s Thursday night and I’m now past 40 hours into the workweek, and what have I achieved? NOT FUCKING MUCH.

I’m still working on restoring world order from last week. I’ve had it with e-mail chains and cc: lines and one cook to fuck up a meal but 17 cooks to tell you how they think you really meant to tell them how to fix it. AAARRRGGGHHHH.

I don’t know the secret handshake and I don’t want to know it. I want to stop having to fix everybody else’s issues so I can work on some of my own because after I’ve played nice in the sandbox all day, I have to go to my people and tell them how my real work isn’t getting done.

I got a grand suggestion from someone today and I’m going to take it. Next week, I’m on vacation — figuratively, of course. Everyone else can deal with the regular business, the crapfest stuff goes to the wayside and I work on the project that needed to be launched this week but is actually delayed for a month because I don’t have any time to do it. And in fixing others’ costly mistakes, I’ve got advertisers with no place to advertise and boy isn’t THAT great for business?!?!

We had a training this morning in which we were talking about “How to Say It” — coming up with how to appropriately address problem employees and employee problems. There was this one case scenario that my group got, that an employee is overworked and putting in tons of hours and has tons of Styrofoam food boxes in their office because they’re practically living there.

One person in my group said, “I don’t understand the problem with that.” Another said, “Perhaps it’s a recycling issue?” And I said, “Give ’em a pat on the back.”

And boy, if that isn’t telling of what kind of manager I am becoming. Sheesh. So they work late — so what? My thought was to ask what kind of food they were eating and whether they’d recommend it, although I didn’t say that out loud. 😉

The correct answer, of course, was to talk to the employee about the workload and see about redistributing some tasks among other team members or easing up on expectations. Ha. Of the 50 people in my training session, we were all bleary-eyed from being at work late and up early to do tasks so we could afford to be in a 2 1/2 hour training session. This isn’t a group that’s sympathetic to giving up personal time to work on projects! How can someone be expected to address burnout issues when they themselves are actively perpetuating them?

Tiff Twittered that there’s something awesome going on, on Friday night. Which, heh. Me? Free on a Friday night? But you know, I think I need to do that “on vacation” thing, which may mean leaving the office at 7 instead of 9 and not technically being able to claim vacay time on the timesheet. Lord knows I haven’t accomplished shit else this week — why not knock off “early” and NOT have another moment in which I’m not pissed off about the fact that I am no further ahead on my to-do list than I was on Monday morning?!!?

You’d think that, after working a good 26 or so hours in the past two days alone, I’d be crabby. But quite the contrary — life’s been fairly amusing lately, to the point that I’m just grateful that the hours were worked over two days and not solely in one!

I think my brain went on vacation and left the rest of me here since sometime late last week. I don’t even know how to describe it. Maybe it’s like a dream or something. I don’t know. I hate being at home, but both work and social commitments have kept me far away from it, so I’m always thrilled about that. 🙂

I guess I’m just trying to cultivate the mental equivalent of Club Med in my head. I’m collecting all those moments in which I was happy, and I’m splicing them together into a “greatest hits” DVD that I’m playing on a loop to get me through.

“Alarm clock rings, it’s 6:45,
Must have hit that snooze button least three times,
I’m wishing this morning,
Was still last night,
On any other day,
I just might want to die.”

— Bon Jovi, “On Any Other Day”

It’s funny how your memories/fantasies change throughout the years. I remember having such good moments that I didn’t want to think about them too much, lest they lose their “fail-safe happy place” sheen. And guess what — I’ve forgotten them all. Occasionally I’ll have a dream or a flashback and have to remind myself that it was a real moment long since buried. And it’s comforting to know that I had some happiness somewhere along the line.

Then I have the moments that I’ve played to death. And even most of them, I don’t remember all that well — at least, not the details, the ones I probably obsessed over at some point.

I guess, despite everything, I’ve been feeling more like myself lately. Working a lot, sure, but being a social butterfly again. I’d retracted my wings for a long while because of money, and I find myself being forced to do it again. (Mom asked if “we” could afford to put $50 in somebody’s birthday card. Guess who “we” is in this equation. Barf. Do “we” really need that expensive cell phone plan, then?)

Anyway, I’ve just been hanging out socially with people who are good to me, who compliment me and laugh at my jokes and tell me they enjoy me and hug me with all the sincerity in the world. Like, my being on this planet makes a difference to them. They demand nothing of me and appreciate any energy I can afford them.

“On any other day I’d be blue *green* eyes crying,
I could tell the world that at least I’m trying,
The clouds are breaking the sun is shining new …
Maybe luck and love, will pull us through.”

I realize how little it takes for me to light up and sparkle — a conversation with handsome young men, a safe environment, a happy memory tucked safely in my mind to bring a smile to my face randomly. Everyone says it, and it’s true — happiness attracts happiness.

When I’m out in the world, positive vibes come my way when I’m feeling good. When a friend “gets” me or puts me on a pedestal for a moment, I carry that with me. You have no idea how I cherish it. And you might never know what transpired in the moments that “made” me, but you’ll see it for days to come. People see that and want to be around that. It rubs off on those who are receptive to it.

Anyway, so much more than meets the eye is going on here at Chez Caterwauling, per usual. So many secrets, so much effort behind appearing to be clueless and pretense behind being guileless.

I don’t mean to be crabby and upset and standoffish when I am. It’s just my way of demanding my space, and there are the (rare) people who respect that. Then there are those who could give a flying fuck and push their way into my face anyway. And, best of all, there are those who respect it but edge in carefully to distract me and make me enjoy a moment, sometimes even despite myself.

I just hope the high can last a little while longer, and maybe it will attract even more good. Or, at least, maybe it will keep the bad from hurting so much.

Via my favorite Boston Creme sweetie.

You Are a Caramel Crunch Donut

You’re a complex creature, and you’re guilty of complicating things for fun. You’ve been known to sit around pondering the meaning of life… Or at times, pondering the meaning of your doughnut. To frost or not to frost? To fill or not to fill? These are your eternal questions.

Somethin’ Chocolate indeed, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

Had a lovely dinner with an attractive gentleman from out-of-town this evening. (Yes, we know each other and no, it wasn’t anything skeevy or questionable. Unfortunately!)

We hung out at the Red Rock Canyon Grill, and while my date was certainly photogenic, I instead captured the dessert, a lil somethin’ called “Somethin’ Chocolate.” Because every girl likes a lil’ chocolate. Well, more like a big, heaving heaping serving of it!

This included two brownies that tasted like they had some amaretto in them, surrounding vanilla ice cream, and topped with real whipped cream and cinnamon. Died —> went to heaven. Nom nom nom. …