Caterwauling

Church was interesting today, but I’m still digesting it. I took a lot of notes, though, in hopes of assembling a coherent blog post about following one’s destiny … and finding it first, of course.

Anyway, I just downloaded “Bleeding Love,” the new Leona Lewis single. I am very much digging it and looking forward to hearing more from her. She’s like the second coming of Lara Fabian with heart-wrenching (yet catchy) pop.

I woke up in the middle of the night and saw the video on VH1 — I think I was dancing around to it in a dream or something. (Click here to view it — embedding has been disabled by the person who posted the video. Meh.)

In any event, speaking of going crazy, I am wondering whether to renew my gym membership or the dating site membership — I can budget for one. But which will get me “some” faster? 😉 The only screwin’ I get lately is a dry hump from looming deadlines, not to mention that the learning curve? Has burrs.

Gah — maybe the deadlines can use some flavored lube for a change for a lil saucy surprise?

Went to work early this morning, cut out for five hours to go shopping, and just came back. I’m usually at my best past 7 p.m., but I’m having a hell of a time getting started again. But it just goes to show — the only day I can take a lunch break is on a Saturday!

At a time when I’m really starting to see that people cross our paths at certain times for a reason — and that we exit each others’ lives for a reason, too, because God’s comic timing is apparently impeccable — I thought I was put in someone’s path yesterday to be a blessing. But I’m scratching my head over what her purpose was in my life.

I went home last night (past 8 p.m.) and found a woman who had been locked out of her unit. She wasn’t wearing a coat and looked panicked. She asked if I knew the emergency number at our complex, and I said I did. I pulled out my phone and asked if she had a phone or if she wanted to use mine.

She had a fanny pack (!), which she was riffling through and ended up dumping out all over the sidewalk. I figured she really didn’t have a phone and didn’t want to say it, so I dialed the main office and told her to listen to the recording and choose the right option.

She listened for a minute and it occurred to me that she might have been drunk or just plain loopy, because she said it was an advertisement and there were no options to get lockout assistance.

Now, I’ve called the number enough times to know that yes, it says where we’re located, but it also says to press 2 for emergencies. So, I called back, pressed 2 and handed it to her.

She left some bizarre message for them and handed the phone to me. I hung up and asked if there was anything I could do.

I was thinking of offering a blanket or a sweater; I was already planning on letting her into the building to wait since she was in a T-shirt. But she said, “Got a smoke?”

And since it’s been a rather challenging couple of weeks at work — not to mention that Sabre and I have professional meetings over a cigarette because she’s bustin’ her butt for me right now — I had a pack in my pocket. (I’m only smoking one or two a day. I promise to quit again after this BIG FREAKING PROJECT dies already.)

I thought it was a little presumptive to ask for one, but when I handed it to her, guess what? She said, “Can I have two?”

You know, when I’ve been locked out of my place, I NEVER asked anybody for anything. The one time I had to borrow someone’s phone, I went back outside and waited till help came. I didn’t ask to have a smoke or anything because I had assumed I had intruded enough.

I walked away, scratching my head. She wanted to stay outside so she could smoke. I asked if she had a light, because I have “doormat” stamped to my forehead apparently, and she mumbled that she could find one. I was wondering how, since she was locked out of her place and, I assume, her car. But I was doing a “last chance to go inside” and she wasn’t biting.

Now maybe it says something about who I am, but I actually thought of taking her a coat so she could stay outside. But I thought, fuck that noise. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was go to bed. I told her what my apartment number was so she could buzz me when she needed to get in. I didn’t hear back and I hope maintenance got there quickly.

I don’t know why I’m telling the story. Lack of anything interesting to say, really, since I canceled both my brunch plans today AND my dinner plans, so I’m pretty much all out of stories. (Not like I post my social activities, anyway. But still.) I guess I’m just glad that I can always manage to be nice and helpful and patient when people are in need, even if they don’t have the wherewithal to, oh, SAY THANK YOU.

I’m trying hard not to lose my faith in people, but it’s times like this when I am reminded that others are lucky to have/find me — I have this pesky tendency to CARE. It’s not an expectation I have of people, but it’s one that’s OK to have of me.

Maybe that’s my lesson — that I can always walk away from a situation and know that I did what I could. Or maybe it’s just what comes around, goes around. It was in that very same parking lot that another neighbor gave me a jump so I could drive to the mechanic.

It’s funny. I live in a cold city where no one even acknowledges that someone is standing next to them. But where I live, where everyone steals each other’s parking spots and would step over their cold, lifeless bodies, we all really do get out heads out of our butts when it’s needed. So, hopefully the bizarre woman I helped will get her head out of her fanny (pack) and do something useful for someone else next time around.

“I close my eyes and wish you fine
(I’m always closing my eyes
And wishing I’m fine)
Even though I know you’re not this time
(Even though I’m not this time).”

— Indigo Girls, “Love Will Come to You“

Well, my work peeps were my valentines. We had a nice catered lunch and everyone got a heart full of candy.

I, of course, left my little heart on my hot little laptop during a meeting, and it resulted in one big gooey melted fiesta of fillings. It seemed an appropriate metaphor for the holiday.

And today, our heroine returns to being as fine as she can be.

Next year will be better. And, all told, this one wasn’t too bad, either. But it would be nice to not feel like the day has to be salvaged somehow.

I guess we’re all wondering whether we’ll turn out OK. It’s hard to believe in it if there’s seemingly no hope in sight. But maybe we just have to look harder sometimes. Or, as the song says:

“… Learn to pretend there’s more than love that matters.”

I was just about to post on how nice it would be if people on social networking sites would think before they type, but if I’m going to waste my wishes on things that will never come true, I have way better fantasies to entertain.

Anywhoo, today’s Gemini whore-o-scope, courtesy of Astrocenter:

“With today’s planetary configuration, you will be asked to take a risk and let your intellect take a back seat to your emotions. You might be surprised by what you discover.”

Anyway, the whore-o-scope made me think of a line from “Practical Magic” — where Jilly says, “What wouldn’t I do … for the right guy?”

Indeed.

Putting my wants/needs/emotions first isn’t my style, but they sure do influence my output. I mean, I was torturing myself the past couple of days, unnecessarily, and holy sourpuss, Batman. Can we say missed opportunities, boys and girls? I’ll bet we can!

(I also miss the days when it was difficult to stalk people. Now all you have to do is load Twitter or Facebook or something. Pfft.)

I can see why people turn to God or religion or whatever on days like I’ve been having. When all you want/need is a shred of *something* to keep plugging along, sometimes that’s all there is.

It’s been hard to stay upbeat lately. But I’m going to give it a go today and if it doesn’t kill me, I might try it again tomorrow.

So, happy V.D. to all. Valentine’s Day (or Vibrator Day — otherwise known as a day that ends in “y”) and all that jazz.

And a reminder to those of us celebrating the latter, there may be a lid for every pot, but many of those matching sets are empty, scratched, cracked and otherwise not attractive or useful. So be careful about what you might be envious of!

Thanks to the lovely Shawn of Everything and Nothing for Twittering about this song. I downloaded the album and I’m finally sort of enjoying this terminal case of the blues.

“Milk is spoiled
Clothes need washing
the baby’s crying down the hall

supper was ruined
dishes still need doing
Ain’t a damn thing on TV at all

I got chains
Around my ankles
And I got chains
Around my heart
I see my dreams
Flying out that window
Catching a fast freight train
Rolling through the dark
And I’m standing still
Unfulfilled

Tired of tasting sulfur
Damn this river water
Lately no he ain’t been
Too much help, no
He wasn’t always this lazy
I guess he’s just gone crazy
He’s probably feeling
The same way I feel myself

I got chains
Around my ankles
And I got chains
Around my heart
I see my dreams
Flying out that window
Catching a fast freight train
Rolling through the dark
And I’m unfulfilled
Can’t you see me
Unfulfilled
That’s right
Unfulfilled

Lace is faded
Another day gets wasted
And I’m wondering if my mom and daddy
Done it this way
Such a comfortable situation
But it hides a quiet desperation
And I reckon that’s the reason
Why I stay

‘Cause I got chains
Around my ankles
I got chains
Around my heart
And I see my dreams
Just flying out that window
Catching a fast freight train
Rolling through the dark
And I’m unfulfilled

Unfulfilled, and I’m standing still.”

— Jessi Alexander, “Unfulfilled“

The title of my last post says it all today: Maybe things DON’T happen for a reason.

I’m currently throwing stuff at the TV over the Virginia and D.C. election results. The Maryland polls close in 20 minutes, and I’m going to keep aerodynamic objects handy for what seems to be the inevitable.

I’ve felt this pressure to defend my voting for Hillary. I could give a hoot — it didn’t change my vote. But it seems like there was some sort of stigma associated with voting for the woman candidate. Like, I always made sure to say I was voting for her based on both her record and her potential.

But yeah, I think it’s time for a woman to be the leader of the free world. We all tell our daughters and nieces and younger women in our lives that they can grow up to be anything they want — they can be president. All right, then. Let’s SHOW THEM that they can!

If she were a lesser politician, I’d be the first to say no, vote for the other guy. But in a world where women still earn less money, where they are treated as second-class citizens (and their fathers and brothers and husbands think it’s OK to de-humanize them based on culture or just plain stupidity), and where our voices may be as loud as our male counterparts but yet they’re heard less, I truly feel it’s time to show the boys that it’s time to stop being the strong woman behind the man.

I just feel like the coverage was not balanced well. Articles surfaced in the last week with tones like, “If Obama wins, what will it mean for Clinton?” and not the reverse. Everyone is asking stupid questions about whether Bill can keep it in his pants if they get to move back into the White House.

So she’s not a media darling. Jesus Christ, so what? Like in every other realm of a female’s life, the woman deserves all the credit in the world for overcoming the obstacles that ANY candidate would endure, PLUS the extra heaping doses of scrutiny and criticism that don’t have thing one to do with the race, IMHO.

If Hillary weren’t running, I’d back Barack Obama. Really. And if he ends up with the Democratic nomination, I retract my statement that I’ll vote for Jon McCain. But knowing that McCain is likely to get the Republican nomination, I am not overly sure that Obama could win over him. But I think Hillary would be a more-formidable opponent in the general election.

I’m not certain why I’m taking this election so personally. I’m not a sore loser — God, I’ve lost more battles in my life than I can count. I’m sitting here with my heart in a thousand pieces, trying to figure out where to start re-assembling the jigsaw puzzle or whether to just keep carrying around this jumbled bag of glass because I no sooner start to heal than fall apart again.

I guess I’m sick of picking wrong, if that’s in fact what I do. Because I’m no dummy — I do nothing in vain. And maybe if my candidate wins or my choice works out, I’ll get my faith back in everything else.

I’m certain that even if Hills doesn’t win — and I really hope she DOES get every last delegate on her side — she will still go on to greater things. And, by proxy, so will I. But like these presidential hopefuls, do you keep the faith in your dream or do you find others to take their place? And how do you move on when all you’ve ever wanted slips through your hands like sand through a sieve?

I decided to give up boys for Lent. “They” say that when you stop looking, the perfect person finds you; so fine, I’m actively not looking. (HALP! PLEASE FIND ME!)

They said something at church Sunday that set me into a tailspin because THEY ARE CLEARLY READING MY MIND — that isn’t the moment amazing when you like someone and find out that they like you back? And isn’t it even better if they approach you instead of you being the one to risk putting yourself “out there”?

At a time when everything in my life is, um, total shit, I don’t know how much more my heart can possibly take. You would think that calling up a boy and asking him out to dinner would be nothing compared to the burdens I shoulder.

But for a girl who couldn’t give a flying Farvegnugen what people think of her, for the most part, her widdle heart might shatter into a Milky Way of hopes and dreams if the wrong — er, “right” — person said no thanks.

Is it better to live in silence with the hope of a “someday” or is it far better to have your heart trampled so that you know that day will never come? Or is God in the business of granting wishes once in a while, to catch us off-guard and keep us believing in miracles?

And will our heroine risk giving up the dream of a reality worth living for, well, the potential of a reality worth living?

I just read a friend’s blog post and am oddly comforted that I’m not the only one feeling the way I do.

Mountain Lions, Snakes, Women and Other Dangerous Creatures

“I guess I feel safe here, in my brightly painted cave with all its man-toys. What keeps me in here talking to pictures, rather than out there talking to faces? People, beautiful, crazy, funny, messed up, delightful people, that is what I really want. That is what my mind is waiting for, and my body too! Well, female people anyway. It is so easy for me to go out in the woods, desert, mountains, rain forests, jungles, even really ‘dangerous’ places without hesitation. It is not so easy to go to a coffee shop and say hi to someone. I have been perfectly comfortable all alone on a 10,000 foot mountain in the Rockies with a cougar circling my campsite, melting snow to make tea, and saying hello to a forty-something single girl makes me sweat.”

*sigh*

After one of my dating entanglements ended, I wrote on a private blog, “So I go back to being the freak of nature who has never known love and, at this rate, never will.”

I go back to that thought a lot. I guess when I hear people tell me that things happen for a reason, I try to rationalize that things also DON’T happen for a reason, too — that something is out there so special and wonderful, I need to be free and ready for it when the time is right.

I just need to work on feeling whole in the meantime. Because I refuse to accept that this is as good as life gets.

The Potomac Primary is tomorrow, so I’m begging everyone with a brain in their head in the tri-state (let’s pretend D.C. is a state) area to vote for Hillary Clinton.

I was at dinner recently with a woman who said, “I’m not going to talk politics with you because I’m certain that the person YOU would vote for would be the person I WOULD NEVER want to see in the White House.”

So I said, OK, what’s wrong with her? And she said, “Women should not be in charge of the country. They’re too emotional. They would make decisions without completely factoring out their emotions.”

And I said, “Um, yeah, well, GOD FORBID someone make a decision in this country based on anything other than throwing darts at a board. God forbid a candidate who promises ‘change’ in their campaign is actually COMMITTED to change. Maybe what we need around here is someone who CARES how their actions will affect the nation.”

*slap*

I’m not voting for Hillary based *entirely* on the fact that she’s a strong woman. I’m voting for her based on the fact that she’s a strong political figure with a proven track record. And that she’s a female with more balls than the swinging dicks in charge, well, bonus!

You know, it burns my ass that all these First Ladies are committed to causes like pets and plants and knitting and shit. Hillary was running her own little presidency when she was First Lady, working on wee little projects like, oh, HEALTH CARE.

Someone needs to come into this presidency and clean up after the monkey who’s been flinging poo around the White House, and she’s the only one I think can do it. Let’s treat Bush’s eight years as the anomaly and abomination they were, and let’s restore world order as quickly as possible. And SO WHAT if she brings emotion into her reign? It’s better than nominating yet another swinging dick who can’t live up to his platform.

I’m so flippin’ worked up right now, I want to be able to vote 40 times. If Obama gets the Democratic nomination, I’m voting for Jon McCain. At least then I KNOW we’re in for another four years of the “same old, same old” and I don’t have to waste my time getting my hopes up for what I fear will be nothing.

I haven’t been to church in two weeks, and maybe I’ve just missed but today it was good. I talked with people I like, a book was discussed that I own (not that I’ve read it) and I cried pretty much the whole goddamned time.

And every time a wave of tears would come, I would unthinkingly utter, “Oh, Christ.” Because, you know, that’s how I roll when I’m doing a U-turn from heaven to hell.

We talked about how the greatest love is not necessarily loving thyself, but the love that is given to God and, by proxy, to others because that’s God-like. And especially lately, this is something at which I am failing miserably.

I always try to love myself because when no one else seems to, at least I do. And I do hold my own opinion in very high regard, so if I love me, well, then I’ve got to be pretty damned special, then. 😉

But I haven’t been so quick to give any love away. In fact, I’m very stingy with it and have been for a very long time. And it was only sometime yesterday that I came to the conclusion that I would probably give anything for a touch from someone I could love. It’s an abstract “someone” of course. Don’t get me wrong — a face could always be assigned, but I am careful not to get my hopes up anymore.

I didn’t realize my withholding of love was so hurtful, but I have been told as recently as today that I can reduce someone to nothing with just the look on my face. I don’t know. I guess I just can’t fake it unless I’m paid to. But what I always forget until after the fact is that I missed an opportunity to let someone know that their presence in this world matters.

And what reminded me of that is that the people from whom I could really use some affirmation or some level of understanding, well, they either don’t know that I need it or walk away from me anyway when I need it most.

And that’s what made me cry. That it’s a sad cycle — I deny someone what they need, others don’t realize/want to give what I need. Perhaps they, too, are looking to get it from somewhere else or have an idea of where they’d rather channel their energies.

I often think of Maya Angelou’s character in “How to Make an American Quilt,” where she decrees that while it was the love of a man that she sought, it was the love of a child that would make her complete. And it’s the love of a man that I seek, to the point that everything else is just a distraction from what I really want.

Yet, is my life lesson to learn where to get/give love doesn’t matter, just so long as I am continually doing it? That I need to focus less on finding someone to love me, just as long as I love everyone else?

Been there, done that and bought the T-shirt, key chain, souvenir mug and some postcards. I’m looking for a more-immediate return on my investments these days. Plus, I figure if folks — the ones whose help and/or approval I so desperately seek — can walk away from me so easily, why can’t I do it to others?

Do you really get saved if you spend your time saving others? What if you don’t want to? What if it’s all you can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other … why is it during our own weakest moments that others demand the most from us?

We had an exercise today, with a Post-It Note heart. On one side, we were to write a word or phrase to describe our relationship with God. On the other side, we had to list the person (mortal) we need to be connecting with/helping because we can. Anyone who knows me can probably fill in those two blanks.

But what if you’re doing all you can to help someone and they dig in their heels at every turn? And does anyone regard me in the same way?

And if I can give whatever it is that people need from me, will I ever be on the list to get what I’m yearning for, too?

You know, I don’t mind it as much when it’s my paying customers who cough, barf and snarf all over me, but when it’s the a-holes who think we are put on the planet for them to entertain, molest and/or listen to their life stories over and OVER again who do it whilst coughing all over me, I get a twee bit testy.

Otherwise, the meetings went great. It serves as a reminder of what our customers want and need, and it’s one of those times when all the corporate divisions mix and mingle, so everyone’s put their agendas down and we pull together as a team and bond as well as cooperate. It’s a glorious thing, one that I always hope will continue when we go back to the digital salt mines.

Anyway, clearly I’m home, I’ve got a bit of a cold and my feet are still swelled, with the left one still looking like something out of a Foo Fighters video. I had to buy Crocs in a size 10 to fit over it — my feet are an 8 1/2 on a good day — and they’re still tight. Le sigh.

I rolled in late Friday night to see my mom waiting at the door. I walked past her and went straight to my room for the next 24 hours. She was so excited to see me. And I burst straight into tears that this is my life, and welcome back to it. Last year, I admit I hoped for someone to come along to love me. I guess I should have been a lot more specific because this is SO not what I had in mind.

But I’ve always said 34 is going to be “my year.” And here I am, three months away from that so-called magical era, and I am not giving up on that dream. I spent a lot of time with myself this past week, and the thing is, I like the “me” who has gone into hibernation. I’m not overly fond of the current incarnation, though.

I mean, you can always break up with someone who isn’t meeting your needs or if you just don’t love them anymore, but how do you disassociate with family and self if they’re driving you bugshit nuts?

I know, there’s some lesson I need to learn in all of this. But why does every moment of life have to be some sort of teachable moment? Why can’t I go away and chaos not erupt, and why can’t I come back and not feel like I’m stepping into a bear trap and that I’m going to be dangling upside-down over an alligator pond with my foot ensconced in the metal jaws until I can figure out how to gnaw my way back to freedom?

In any event, I suppose it’s Lent. I’d like to give up on all the offers I’m getting from ProFlowers and Hallmark and 1-800-Flowers.com. Any girl who claims she isn’t into flowers is lying. I personally hate the smell of them because they remind me of funeral homes, but honestly? I abhor their absence even more. All this holiday does is serve to remind me that I’m not “there” yet and to stoke the fear that I may never be.

Funny, that. The girl who just wants some goddamned personal space really wouldn’t mind sharing it with someone after all. But how many more tests do I have to go through with situations I DO NOT WANT before I get to the ones I would possibly like very much?