Caterwauling

I iz professional, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

My damn bra strap popped off today. No big deal — it’s a convertible five-way bra (heh, sounds way kinkier than it is) so it can function as a strapless.

Since both “girls” are high and dry, I forgot that I was missing a strap. So of course it took me getting a visitor in my cube — er, “workstation” — to make me realize, whoops, that’s part of my bra on the desk over there.

I guess it would be even more inappropriate to ask someone to help me get it hooked up in the back again. I know me — it’ll still be here when I return to the office next week. Time to break out the one-armed shirts of the ’80s!

I’m so freaking bored. I mean, I have no reason to be — my to-do list will totally kick your to-do list’s ass. 😉 But I can’t get no (intellectual) satisfaction these days. Of course, I’m glad to take satisfaction in any way I can get it!

Actually, that’s not true. I feel like the universe is dangling a very juicy carrot in front of me. I see it. I want it. I’m salivating over it. But I’m not scampering after it. I’m dubious. Is it real? Ahem — is it for real this time? I know I don’t deserve it. I know there are some things I have to resolve before I can get my reward. I am ready to take the steps that will get me to my reward. I just wish I could step over my problems in the interim and not have to face them square-on.

I think I’m dealing with cognitive dissonance with some recent life changes. I had one of those revelations this morning as I seem to be finding I have a real bitchy streak. It’s only aimed at one or two targets, though — and not even obvious ones.

Not that I’m all sweetness and light otherwise — oh lord no — but man, the bitch filter has been off and even I’m surprised by the foaming rabies behind my bark.

Someone asked me recently if I’ve ever really grieved losing my grandfather. That answer is an easy no. He was here, now he’s gone, it’s back to business for me and OH HAI shotgun-wedding simulation; you didn’t think the hard part was over, did you?

Anyway, I find that as the days grow longer and my exposure to light a little more frequent, I’m more-inclined to want to go out and BE in that sunshine. I had one of those career epiphanies yesterday in which I was told I was getting Big Humongous Project by someone, well, not qualified to tell me that. (It beats the others who do not know/care/impact what I do and assign me deadlines in their imaginations and then stalk me when I “miss” them.)

But I was this person’s first choice, which was sort of cool and an honor, even though I don’t have the time/mental acuity to see the project through to completion. (And I don’t have to, which is a mixed blessing, oddly enough.) But I conveyed to the big boys that if I could do that project and this other project (which is also MASSIVE. And also very NEGLECTED) exclusively, I’d totally have my dream job. More or less, anyway.

As I enter into my *~*gulp*~* 34th year this weekend, I am doing way too much thinking. Which is par for the course for me when it comes to birthdays in general but especially now as I had put the charm on this year as my “BEST YEAR EVER.” Because I won’t accept otherwise. And it’s hard to believe that all the bullshit that’s trailing me into this glorious era is either going to be solved or at least WAY less-overwhelming at this time next year.

Great, NOW I have to deal with the fact that I’m going to be 35. AWESOME — if THAT doesn’t contribute to my current identity crisis, I’m not sure WHAT will!

I Hate the World Today…, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

I have a friend who worked for a very prestigious law firm in D.C. And one woman handed in her resignation one day, whereupon she worked out the remainder of her sentence — er, tenure — and even worked late on her final day there.

The next day, when her colleagues came in for the morning, they learned that she had crapped in the kitchen sink.

She’s my hero. 😉

Today was one of those days in which I was scouting out locations on my desk whereupon I could possibly leave my own parting words.

Oh, what do I mean was one of those days? This bitch ain’t over yet. Far from it. Thanks for that paltry stimulus check — the liquor store is pleased with how I’m spending it.

Entry title courtesy of the movie “Half-Baked,” and for my girl E. for reminding me of it. … 😉 Calgon, take me away!!!!

I share a wall with three people.

ALL OF THEM are on the phone.

Two of them with each other.

And another one across the room is adding their 2 cents the old-fashioned way.

*headslam*

I decided to work from home in the early hours of the morning, breaking my new tradition of being coiffed and dressed at the ass-crack of moi and being planted in my little cubby before the masses arrive. (A girl’s gotta get some peace at some point in her day.)

So I did my thing in my quiet room (with a door! Next time I’m job-hunting, I’m NOT going to go for the cube environment. No way in hell), and I was just about to leave when I yawned. It was a Technicolor yawn, unfortunately, as the Skittles I’d nommed on for breakfast decided they didn’t want to be digested after all. I can has sick day? Oh noes, too short-staffed! *barf*

Anyway, I was slightly riveted by “Grey’s Anatomy” last night. I wish I could just identify with one character instead of all of them. Maybe I’d feel less damn depressed at 10 p.m. Eastern on Thursday nights when the show goes off and I switch to Comedy Central for the duration of the evening.

I think, if I had to pick, I’d have been Cristina this week. (It’s a lovely name, so why not?) After the fruits of her labor have yielded a prestigious award for her lackluster ex, and the new boss doesn’t have the time of day for her, no wonder she’s disengaged. She passed up the opportunity to be part of a historic surgery on the founder of some awesome technique they all use, instead choosing to stick paper clips on a Dixie cup.

And what’s sad is I was thinking, hey that Dixie-cup-stabbing kind of looks fun!

I think I’ve fallen into a patch of quicksand insofar as why I was put on this planet. I’m developing mad (and marketable) skillz and I’m really growing on a personal level, too. But while I know the point of existence is to become who we’re meant to be, well, who exactly is that person? I’m sure she’s going to be downright divine, but what’s wrong with me as-is? And why do I have to be a different person to get where I’m going?

The other storyline that caught my eye last night was the gal with the brain tumor who spun a Cinderella-like story of her man Andre, whom she wanted to see before she went into experimental neurosurgery that could (and would) kill her. Nobody believed her, that she had this man in her life — there were no photos, no eyewitnesses, no way that anyone could imagine that she could meet Prince Charming.

I was angry about that — pudgy girls need love too, people. I’ve said it before on this blog and I’ll say it again, non-skinny girls give the best head because we’re HUNGRY. 😉

Anyway, the patient’s sister convinced Meredith that there could not POSSIBLY be a man, which Mer of course used to attempt to convince Derek that Andre was the byproduct of brain-tumor-induced hallucinations.

What I loved about Derek was that he was willing to entertain the hallucinations. I don’t know that even he believed this man was real, but he was willing to wait until his (supposed) 3 p.m. arrival time.

What I loved more was that, in surgery as everything was going wrong, Mer perked up and announced — by intuition alone — “Andre’s here.”

So here I am at a character crossroads myself, between the disenchanted and directionless Cristina and the wants-so-badly-to-believe-it’s-real brain-tumor patient and even the now-crazy Ava who really seems to have believed she was pregnant but it was all a product of her own hallucinations. (No comments about me spontaneously exhaling my breakfast today!)

I’m rooting for hope to win out. I’m just starting to see that there’s so much more to life than what I’ve allowed into it so far. But I’ve always believed that it will take one small miracle to set off a domino effect of dreams coming true — even dreams I didn’t know I had. And maybe the key is to let others know that you have ’em because maybe, just maybe, they would be happy to help further them along. …

Just finished up 30-odd (i.e., 40) hours of rush-rush-rush, urgent-is-an-understatement work. And even though the remaining/ongoing project pile is plenty high, I’m bursting with nervous energy and want to do something with it other than waste it on the digital equivalent of pushing papers around. But what?

I’m pumped up from a, uh, heated discussion this a.m. about something I did yesterday that I could totally justify. I’m not saying I made the right decision — I just made the right one at the time.

Throughout the years, I’ve gotten pretty bad at seizing moments. I’ve passed up windows of opportunity and cried behind the doors I encountered next.

I’ve missed as many chances to tell people I care about them as I have opportunities to tell others to go fuck themselves.

Today, I did a little of both. And it was exhilarating.

At my age, I think people are struggling to find themselves. Me, I’m struggling to rediscover that person. I would probably have loved to be a part of some sort of social revolution. Hell, I wonder whether I can create one. Lord knows there’s still all sorts of injustice in the world. Lord also knows that while I love being paid to work at a desk, it’s SO not my life’s ambition.

As I posted on Twitter yesterday, “‘The Pessimist complains about the wind, the Optimist expects it to change and the REALIST adjusts his sails.’ Me, I’m holding my skirt down.”

And that’s the rediscovery part of this program — what did I WANT to do before I realized what I HAD to do? And if I don’t remember, do I still have it in me to dream up something else?

I’m hellbent on maintaining my good mood, so let this crab blow off some steam and she’ll go ease herself into a vat of butter, and we’ll call that my happy place. 🙂

I got an e-mail from someone I haven’t yet met in my new surroundings, asking me if I “wanted” to work on a project that includes who-only-knows-what. I loioked at the project overview and said I wasn’t certain it was as urgent as they conveyed and that if they could wait till later this summer, I’d be all over that hot mess. I explained that my time was stretched at this juncture and that, from the looks of it, nothing had really changed and I was quite confident that it was OK to keep using as-is for another two months.

So I get this e-mail back basically telling me that it wasn’t a question — it was a directive. And that it was due this week.

OH HELL NO, Homey don’t play that.

I harnessed the magical power of the delete key because the reply was altogether too tempting to make. And I know this ain’t over, but honestly, there are ways to talk to people. I’ve gotten too old and set in my ways. If you approach me to say that this is WHY this project needs priority status (and I happen to agree with that logic), I will work with my team to ensure that my priority duties get taken care of so that I can handle another project. But at this time, I’m short-staffed and, quite honestly, short-tempered when it comes to people absolutely disrespecting my time and devaluing the contributions I am making without any added “you must do this now” bullshit.

Besides, why ask if I wanted to do it when I was nominated or, worse, ordained? Not to mention, I’m in absolute crisis mode. I’ve got one on vacation, one on bereavement, one on sabbatical and a couple who are on the road. Yes, it takes the secret handshake at this point to get me NOT to bop an unruly brat upside the head.

But I’m not letting this bother me. I am not a fan of games but I assure you, I don’t lose them when I do play.

Speaking of “Generation Whine,” as I like to call the “Y”-ers, I was always the youngest person on my teams, even if I was the supervisor. Now I find myself, at 33 years, 11 months and a handful of days, in the “middle-age” category. Yikes. When the hell did that happen?

I remember when there were a billion news articles on dealing with the arrival of Gen X. Here we are, not necessarily as disenfranchised with reality as y’all thought we would be and certainly more-committed to excellence than those who are thisclose to retirement. But man, I’m scratching my butt over “these kids today.”

Gen X is too busy spinning plates and simultaneously juggling an entire set of cutlery — these whiners (er, Y-ers) seem to expect that you will tap dance for them, too. If their parents never told them no, they aren’t receptive to so much as a “maybe” — much less a “no” from anyone who didn’t birth them.

Don’t get me wrong — my immediate team is Teh Awesome. I don’t know where these folks came from (heaven, apparently) but I demand and receive excellence, and they’ve proven that it can be done.

Since I’ve become sort of an old fogey, can’t I just spank some of these kids and send them to bed without dinner when they disrespect mah authoritah? O HAI reality! *thwap*

All right, I’ve had to finish out the workday at Corner Bakery, after this morning’s emergency run to Panera. Time to go buy some fewd and justify the hours of chilling out for free at this hotspot. What an expensive day this has turned out to be, but it sure beat staring at my half-walls. … 😉

Internet went all epic FAIL on me today, so I actually used my silly noggin and hauled my laptop to Panera to meet a deadline. Well, I didn’t meet it — it got blown by a good half-hour (or so). You should’ve seen me driving on the freeway to get here — who says you can’t traverse 2 miles in 90 seconds?

speaking of little things, my 4 1/2-year-old niece and 2 1/2-year-old nephew went to see Barack Obama at a Springfield, Ore., rally. The boy was sitting on my friend’s shoulders and, when there was a silent moment in the rally, he waved and yelled, “O HAI BARACK OBAMA!”

And the Democratic candidate DID look over at him and wave, while the crowd cracked the hell up.

My niece, however — not to be outdone — took that opportunity to yell, “I GOTTA GO POTTY!” at that very moment.

My friend keeps telling me that she’s saving their baby clothes for me. Maybe if she’d stopped the story before the potty comment, I might be more amenable to the “shitting out rugrats” thing! 😉

Nummy!, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

We got a catered breakfast at work today, compliments of the building management because we are such expensive awesome tenants.

The creme brulee French toast on the right is superb. I may have to try to make that on my own. It would be the perfect item for a breakfast in bed, especially on a cruddy, rainy day like today in which you need Noah to navigate your little ship around the Beltway.

Mmm, warm breakfast on a cold day. ..

What a dreary day in D.C. that this is turning out to be. Something about a tornado watch and flood watch and blah, blah, blah, at least my car is getting washed by the rain. Whee.

I was in a great mood till I watched “Grey’s Anatomy” last night, and I always know it’s an amazing episode when I feel like total crap afterward. Between Preston Burke’s undeserved reward (and Cristina’s lack of acknowledgment as the REASON he “earned” that honor), the soldier who died alone with the (same-sex) love of his life being forced into the next room, Erica’s super-secret (OK, not really) crush on Callie, and Meredith trying so desperately to let Derek move on (who clearly does not WANT to move on), my heart just hurts.

I’ve always been a Mer/Der fan. When you find two people who are so alike that they are all wrong for anyone else who crosses their path, it seems like everything that happens when they’re apart is the universe poking a hot, sharp finger at them, telling them, “Why are you surprised when NOTHING ELSE works out when you two are apart. Do you not REALIZE that you won’t feel whole until you are together?”

Or maybe it’s just me, feeling the universe jabbing me straight in the sunburn. I dunno. I hear you, oh weary head and heart, try as I might to plug my ears and pretend I’m not listening. (*la la la*)

Maybe I just have something stuck in my craw because I went to the old office last night to pick up the TV they said I could take (and my name was on it). Oh yeah, and someone TOOK IT ALREADY. *bitchslap*

That’s the second TV that was stolen out from under me in eight months. Why is the universe keeping me from my televisions? Is it a sign to treat myself to a super-awesome one as a reward?

At least I feel cute today. That’s about the only thing this day has going for it. And as a beloved male friend reminded me, I’ve got a great rack, too. (Thanks!) So there, two positive things I can say about today! 😉