Caterwauling

Skipped church today. I am sort of bummed about that because it usually means I’ve gotten up early, scrubbed mah butt and gotten some religion before noon. Meanwhile, it’s close to 3 p.m. and I’ve finally done the daily butt-scrubbing, although I’m not exactly “going out” ready just yet.

I did, however, get to watch “The Soup” and the preview of “Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant,” not to mention finally catching up on “Celebrity Rehab,” so I do think it’s fair to say this has been my most-productive Sunday yet.

Spent last night in Kensington, Md., for a full evening of Dave & Buster’s for drinks and games, dinner at Bertucci’s and dessert at The Cheesecake Factory. White Flint blows for shopping, but as an eating destination? It’s a freaking dream. 😉

I made friends at D&B. I always do when I go out. It was mostly because we were contemplating the drink menu (my appetizer was a “tall” Guinness, which would have been enough to flood a small country) and I was spouting entirely too much knowledge of drink combinations and pop culture references. So we ended up befriending a couple who were listening to me babble and we started talking about the ’80s.

Which, if I may say, the female half of the couple? Wasn’t even on this planet for the first portion of the 1980s. And her date was older than me. I chuckle at these guys who pick up girls who are 20 years younger than them. Hey, no offense — more power to them. But he was telling me about his kids and I’m thinking, uh, they are probably your date’s age. 😉

In any case, my friend ordered a Sno-Cone drink, and it really did have a pretty gradient of colors, from pink at the bottom to purple in the middle to blue at the top. It tasted like a Now and Later (and of course the younger girl was all, “What’s a Now and Later?” and my friend and I had to walk away before the (gray) hairs stood up on our heads!

So I got the “Scooby Snack” drink this time around. I was sort of surprised when they handed it to me, because it wasn’t what I expected. It had coconut rum and banana liqueur in it, with a dash of Blue Curacao for color. The menu had said it would have whipped cream, but it didn’t, but oh well. As long as they don’t forget the booze, right? It was all good.

Anyway, the drink was delicious. But just as I was finishing it, my server found me and handed me another drink. I probably sounded like Scooby tee-heeing at getting two drinks for the price of one, as she said they made it “right” this time (she was out of whipped cream earlier).

You know what? The drink sucked with the whipped cream. I might have liked it had I not tasted the other version first, but meh. Now I know how to order it next time!

At dinner, my friend ordered a tiramisu martini at Bertucci’s, but wasn’t pleased with it. But before the server could take it back, I tried it and decided I was in love with it. It really does taste like tiramisu and if ever you should find yourself on a liquid diet, it would be divine. Next time, though, I’m sticking with “real” tiramisu, but in a pinch, the drink would definitely do.

I was thinking wow, I don’t remember much else about last night, but after all that booze, is it any wonder why?!?! 😉

because I don’t live in a real state that does emissions at the time of inspection, my plate/tags got suspended. In 2006. So on top of my $140 ticket. I have to pay the state several hundred dollars in fees before they run the $100 test.

I handed them my AmEx to just get this shit overwith, only to be told that they only take visa. Hahaaa — I had $35 in my account. So I left and emptied my bank account — a fund I named “Paris” because that is where I dream of visiting.

Am back in line again and wondering WTF the universe is telling me. I know we all have our problems, but come on already. I an grateful to be able to cover this adventure, but my safety net is gone. Everyone in my life is looking toward me to supprt and save them and ain’t no one looking out for my peace of mind.

Not that I expect help from anyone. I just wish the universe would quit separating mr from my money because, even though it isn’t much, it is what buys the little distractions I have come to need so much.

I just hope I have enough money left over to go out tonight. I already had to cancel my lunch date. I also hope to afford the gym membership — at least it gets me out of work and keeps me away from home. And if that isn’t the most pathetic saving grace on earth, I don’t know what is.

So I spent three days restoring world order, and have otherwise been living the life of a goddamned saint for several months. Cracking was inevitable, although it was less a volcanic eruption than a steady slice through a carefully crafted glass veneer.

I was recently discussing my theory of “I’d rather be alone than wish I were,” and my friend had said he fluctuates between feeling the very same way and also not wanting to be alone at all. And I surprised myself by saying, very firmly, “I don’t.” Meaning, if I can’t be in the company I want, then I don’t want any.

I’ve spent a lot of time alone and wasn’t the slightest bit lonely. And now I find myself not alone and, yet, lonelier than I ever was. It’s disquieting, to say the least.

I was parting ways with this same friend not too long ago, where we said goodbye and hugged. And I probably deflated his lungs, I squeezed him so hard. I couldn’t help it. I’ve been fighting so hard to remain standing, to keep from exploding or even imploding, and to do it without having anything steady to hold on to.

And for that fraction of a second, I felt myself relaxing — that I was actually, finally, leaning on someone stronger than me. Like, I could almost breathe because the precarious balance of the world wasn’t going to collapse if I took a moment’s break from holding it together.

And my friend is another one who takes on the weight of the world. I suppose people like us recognize that in each other. Perhaps only the strongest people can support each other, because we’re used to protecting weakness but otherwise repelling it when it’s our turn to be in need.

“The broken locks were a warning
You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I’m an open book instead.”

— Lifehouse, “Broken”

My friend noted that I’m different lately. I forget the adjective used, but I found myself not certain whether to feel disappointed in myself that my stress is so apparent to someone other than me or awestruck that someone noticed and maybe even cared that I’m feeling so overly, utterly captive to whatever is plaguing me.

I don’t want my stress to be apparent. Not that I wanted all these stressors in the first place, but I was rather happy, thinking everyone thought I was so adept at privately dealing with everything and hiding it from the world. Oh well. I do like to revel in my illusions.

My friend told me to envision the good things coming my way. I said quite honestly that I keep trying to believe in them, and that I see them so very clearly. Yet, I find myself watching them pass me by.

I’m not kidding when I say I’ve got a very strong vision of what I want. I can tell you down to the detail of how my nails will be manicured in this amazing dream that keeps me going. But, as I said, “Apparently, it’s not my turn yet.”

In any case, I thank the universe profusely for sending me this small glimmer of understanding that I’ve been needing for a very long time. I know it was just a moment, a feeling, an “a-ha” moment that I’m really not alone, but I hope to pay it back someday.

As a matter of fact, I don’t know how I’m holding it all together. But I think I can hang in there just a little while longer.

I’ll keep waiting my turn for those good things I know have to be on their way. I just feel like I’m holding No. 78 and the celestial deli is now serving No. 14.

But at least I know exactly what I want when my time to order comes up. I’ll know that I will have deserved the best service possible as my reward. And I won’t lose faith that this day is coming … eventually.

“The broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time.”

“How am I supposed to tell you how I feel?
I need oxygen.”

— Colbie Caillat, “Oxygen”

I’ve spent the past three days fixing a very expensive screw-up. (Luckily, I didn’t make it; I just care enough to rectify it.) I just got past the halfway point in the battle; the rest is contingent upon everyone I talked to, actually having listened to me.

It’s been the week of crisis, chaos and conundrums. And even if no one appreciates how much heartache has been caused/expended, I know I did my best to drag this ever-growing pile of bricks from points A to B.

That said, I have a happy place in my mind. I haven’t let myself go there in a long time. And I don’t know if I got new information in my mind that allowed me to go back there, or whether I just said damn it, I need my security blanket, but I’ve been retreating to a place that’s safe, warm, fuzzy and full of hope.

It’s amazing how good one can manage to feel just by breathing in some untainted air, even if it is probably just an illusion.

Subtitle: The ‘But Wait, There’s More … And Still More’ Entry

No, I didn’t buy a membership — I got PULLED OVER in the two blocks between my apartment and the fucking health club.

Apparently my plate or something has been suspended because I never got my emissions done. Huh? It took me hundreds of dollars to get the inspection/emissions done and they DIDN’T DO THE EMISSIONS?

I miss living in Virginia and Pennsylvania, where they were done together. Oh, but NO … I have to drive out to East Bumfuck to get them done. On a workday.

This cost will be ON TOP OF the $140 ticket.

I would REALLY like to know why other people’s screw-ups become my responsibility, and then my own screw-ups come to bite me on the other ass cheek. Seriously.

Here’s the real fun in all this — I had arrived at the gym around 8:30 p.m. Got a parking spot in the lot tonight and didn’t have to leave this precious EXPENSIVE vehicle in the delicious, delicious McDonald’s lot. Got down to the club and realized I was severely lacking in, um, WORKOUT WEAR.

So, I had to run home to get it. And I changed while I was here. Whatever. No big deal.

I went to grab my wallet and, oh yeah, here’s the kicker — I CHOSE not to take my driver’s license. Like I told the cop, after I got a lecture for not having it, “I figured I couldn’t POSSIBLY get pulled over during a two-block drive.”

head —> desk

This is my third ticket in this goddamned neighborhood in fewer than six weeks. GAH. I’d like to know why I’m always hemorrhaging money and not commensurately bringing it in. Universe, got any answers on that one?!?!

Oh, heh, one last thing. Got a letter in the mail today from the rental office. Rent’s going up $75 a month. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it? And why on earth would I be surprised that the letter would arrive TODAY?!?!

Subtitle: Today’s pain brought to you by the letter “E”

Sub-subtitle: Don’t ask about the subtitle

I went and worked out tonight. I’m hurting, but having a lovely, calorie-filled blackened-chicken quesadilla from California Tortilla made working out necessary and, thus, inevitable.

I haven’t been to a gym in about three years. Taking care of myself is a blog entry or 20 for another day because I’ve sort of been taking the “I want to be alone” phase to new extremes. (Read: Leave me alone with a pint of ice cream.) I have severe relationship issues and try to avoid them at all costs, including costs to my health. But again, story for another day.

Anyway, I had fun. Really. The club is kind of sketchy, and in a somewhat-sketchy area, as the parking situation is just scary and you have to go down about a billion steps (that always seem to be wet) to get to the club. I’m thinking a good rain/snow comes along and I will never want to make the journey. But anyway, that’s why I’m doing the free trial — to see if I like it enough to stick with it or whether I should be looking elsewhere.

The inside of the locker room was kind of stinky, in a dry-roasted ass kind of way. There is a dry sauna and a wet sauna, but as all my flip-flops are sparkly and have no traction, I didn’t enter either. Besides, I didn’t want to smoke out the iPhone with steam and I didn’t bring a lock with me to claim a locker.

I wore myself out tonight, trying to overcome some severe aggression from a major conundrum that was brought on somewhere around 4 p.m. I know I need to work on problem areas, but tonight was all about machines that let me run/climb/pant/wheeze/gasp in place while watching the New Hampshire primaries on one screen and CNBC on another. (Go Hillary! Boo Dow Industrials!)

I’d give the club a three out of five. Folks were good about cleaning their machines with all the antibacterial wipes provided, and everyone kept to themselves and seemed courteous enough. There were people of all shapes and sizes, which was nice to see. I just wonder how many of us will be there next week or even next month.

I guess I’ve just been to enough fitness rooms in four- and five-star hotels, so admittedly I was turning up my nose because I was finally in a place that I could afford. 😉 And it really sucks being poor! Fuck, if I were rich, I’d pay someone to exercise for me.

I realized I am in dire need of good workout wear. My “tennis” shoes were no match for all the stairmastery shit. Motherfuckin’ ow. I wore my one decent sport bra, but either I have to wash it daily or I have to resort to the pile of others I have with less-than-adequate support. That’s all I’d need to do — put an eye out while I’m working out.

Oh well; I had better do it now before I think about signing a contract, because if I like this place and my days keep going the way they are, the gym will be seeing a lot more of me!

I want so badly to post this video on my online profile, but my, uh, DIRECTNESS over there has stirred up enough controversy for one day, so we’ll just stick to editorializing solely in THIS spacefor a little while longer. 😉

Like all the good stuff, this was totally stolen from Sabre.

Sweet everlovin’ Jesus, what a day.

The car that didn’t get washed yesterday? I went to the car wash and told them how disappointed I was. They said that if I had upgraded to the $49 car wash (huh? $20 wasn’t enough?!?!), they would have done the interior. I said I’ve gotten the car done there before and was happy with it — yesterday’s “work” was an embarrassment. So they re-cleaned the car. Yay! I can actually stand driving around in it now.

I also got a call about someone wanting to interview me for some work. I apparently made a good impression on someone, somewhere. Just goes to show, being on your best behavior at all times will take you places.

I had to go home and change clothes today. Oy vey. Don’t ask. Someone doesn’t have the good sense to look at a calendar. At least this explains the hateful backache I’ve had for two days. And now perhaps people can see why when I buy a pair of pants, I buy an extra one in the same color. That way, you come back to work “technically” wearing the same thing!

I could have changed into the workout clothes that I lug everywhere and don’t use, but I don’t think the Steelers shirt and yoga pants would have gone over very well at la oficina.

No complaints, though — it’s 70 degrees in D.C. I got to drive around topless … AND with the sunroof open. 😉

Am going to regale myself to hell for the remainder of the afternoon to a pesky little task called promotion codes. Gah. Gouge my eyes out with a letter opener. And THEN I’ll focus on the Monday project from hell. (As opposed to the Tuesday one, the Wednesday one, etc.)

The good news is, I booked a twee mini-vacation for February. All I can really afford is the hotel stay and can’t afford to actually DO much of anything in my destination city. So, I made sure to get a really good room at nice, discounted winter rates. 😉 Always nice to have something to look forward to!

I had three goals for this weekend: Wash car, get oil change, join/work out at gym.

Meatloaf needs to write the song for “one out of three ain’t bad.”

Car wash: Pseudo-check. However, I don’t know how I paid $18 before the tip and I left with the car only slightly less dirty than it was when I drove it there.

The outside was mostly clean, although nobody cleaned the crud out of the tire rims. And the inside was vacuumed but the windows were smeared. Not to mention, but someone left a big muddy footprint just inside the passenger-side door. The hell? Britney Spears could have snorted a few lines of coke and done a more-thorough job.

And what kills me is how the three guys who cleaned the car stood there beaming. It’s said frequently around these parts that Mexicans are lazy. And I don’t want to believe that. In the case of the guys who made my car dirty in different ways than it was when it came to the car wash, I think they had a misguided sense of doing an excellent job. In any case, I feel like I got screwed out of a hell of a lot of money for no reason whatsoever.

Oil change: No check. Not so much. I had plans to do that but, alas, I’d been screwed over enough for one day. My last oil change resulted in more problems than it fixed.

Joining the gym: Sort-of check. I activated a temporary membership at 5 p.m. while the gym closed at 6. I did bring my yoga bag with workout clothes; however, Miss Genius took her LAPTOP bag into the gym and not the WORKOUT bag. *sigh*

Sure, I could’ve gone back to the car, but damn, the parking garage is FAR away from the gym. Damn it, I got exercise walking to and from the club — no need to work out IN it!!!!

I think I need a break from church.

I was in fairly good spirits when I arrived, having forgotten my wallet and driving back home to get it so, in fact, I made two trips to church and STILL made it on time. I even got a compliment on my purse.

Hell, I even SANG ALONG in church. For the first time! Last week I sat in the front for the very first time, but this week I was back in my comfort zone in the back corner. I don’t want to intimate that I sang loudly or even well. I just had heard the song before and recognized parts of it.

And then the guilt trips began from today’s pastor. I’m sure he’s a lovely man, but sweet Jesus, his message was lost amid all the, “If you’re not volunteering your time to help this church out, you’re not as worthy of heaven as you think you are.”

Note on that: The interpretation is fully mine.

The point is, I left there feeling absolutely and utterly aggravated. I jetted out a full five minutes before I usually do. I was going to make a nice donation this week because of a special project that is going on next week, but I said fuck it and wrote out a $10 check, which was still more than I felt like giving.

Guess what, if I want a guilt trip, I can talk to the person who gave birth to me. She is ADEPT at making me feel like absolute dog shit because apparently I just don’t do enough to meet her supposedly (in her head) meager needs. Because paying her rent AND mine isn’t enough, I have to be nice, too. And I can’t manage both right now.

So anyways, I would have thought that the pastor would have encouraged us that, OK, so you can’t go on mission trips or be in prayer groups or whatever — so what. Just as long as you’re being a loving, faithful person in life in general and basically being a blessing wherever you go would be enough. Right? Or so I thought.

Nope, if you’re only coming to church and not helping it, well, if there was a holy way of saying “Eat me,” I am certain that is what we would have heard.

And then, today of all days, we had to fill out a survey about what we’re getting out of going to that particular church. Oh, honey, WRONG DAY TO ASK. Today when my head/neck/back/shoulders hurt just to think about, let alone touch, because that’s where I carry all my stress. Today when I was taking a sip of my coffee (that the church provides) and the pastor says, well, those of you who drink coffee here, what are you doing to give back. Today when I just want — no, NEED — my weekly confirmation that there is a God out there and that he’s a loving one who isn’t out to punish the good people and reward the assholes.

Grr.

I adore my church. I really like the people. I would follow the lead pastor anywhere. And I understand that the other pastors are doing their best, but at the point of alienating their congregation, perhaps they may want to rethink the “We know you don’t mean to suck, but by not volunteering, you do in fact suck” lectures.

And, yes, I will be honest. I am angry because I DO have that guilt in my heart, that I could be doing more to help the greater good. I am WELL AWARE that messages like I heard today were aimed squarely at people like me, who are so consumed with their jobs and trying not to kill everyone around her, and who don’t make time for the community. But damn, people, I can’t even get a moment to MYSELF without getting a fucking guilt complex over it.

My friend keeps reminding me of airlines, how in the event of a decrease in cabin pressure, you’re supposed to don your safety mask first BEFORE helping others with theirs.

And I can’t breathe right now. How am I supposed to save someone else when I am, in fact, suffocating?

A part of me thinks that I can save everyone and myself at the same time. That by doing for others and putting them first, I will feel satisfied and rewarded. But you know what? I am wondering when the day will come when someone else will put me first or at least on par with themselves. And at the rate I’m going, I don’t know if there will be an empathetic bone left in my body to appreciate that day if ever it comes.