Caterwauling

Balcony view…aaah

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I took the day off yesterday to go look at a new apartment. Sure, I’ve only been in this one for a little over three months and it would cost a fortune to break the lease. But when my friend said I had to see the view, day-um she wasn’t kidding!

The rent is $200 more a month for a more-prestigious ZIP code. AND a wraparound balcony.

The downside is having to bring the over-extended houseguest along … I can’t believe I’d have to drag her ass with me to a THIRD apartment. (*suppressing murderous rage*) Plus I’d have to give her the master bedroom and its GORGEOUS Roman tub because princess won’t take showers. (There’s a small shower in the guest room.)

The benefit of the guest room is that it’s floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, as it’s on the corner of the unit. (Hence the wraparound porch.) I couldn’t fit shit for furniture in there but seriously, me + bed + small TV = waking up to sunshine and Intracoastal Waterway views plus a beach view if I walk outside? WIN.

I haven’t made a decision yet about this move. Lord knows I don’t have enough free time to duck into a restroom before scratching my butt in public, so packing and whatnot? After relocating only in March? Is SO not appealing right now.

Less appealing, again, is dragging the OEH along. I was actually looking at getting matching studio apartments, but why should I live in a $900 closet just to get away from her? (I’m not saying it wouldn’t be worth it — I just wouldn’t have this view!)

We hung out at the pool all day yesterday and surprisingly, I only acquired some freckles. God bless SPF 70, is all I’m saying. Well, also bless red wine, HUGE oysters (and dozens of them), ceviche and the company of new friends.

It’s just been so long since I’ve had anybody to talk to, I feel like I bitched my friend’s ear off. She gave me the advice I didn’t want to hear — take some time and get the OEH a job because she’ll be living with me for the next 20 years if I don’t get off my ass and do it myself. (I almost did a swan-dive off the fourth-floor balcony into the Intracoastal after she said that.)

She’s right, though. I can ignore the pest till the exterminators come to take her away, but she ain’t goin’ NOWHERE on her own. And clearly she doesn’t care that I’ve been at the end of my mental tightrope since a month after she moved in (although it can be argued I’ve been at my wits’ end since about 2001).

Speaking of wits’ end, I had to make an emergency Tar-zhay run today. Like, “Oh shit, gotta run NOW,” and I went out in my unshowered, stank-ass glory. Whereupon I got a text message immediately, “Would it have KILLED you to invite me?” from the OEH.

The REAL reason why I don’t want to take this gorgeous new condo on the water? Because with an ugly view, the OEH doesn’t leave the house on her own now. If all we saw for miles was beauty, she’d have even less incentive to go out on her own. (If that were at all possible.) And I just can’t have that, yo.

I love my apartment itself but I won’t love anywhere that isn’t MINE … ALL MINE.

The unit next-door to my friend was available when I agreed to see it but the manager said that someone just put money on it. Assuming they’re approved, I’d have to wait in line for the next similar unit to open up.

So my deal with myself is this: If and when a comparable unit opens up, I will re-evaluate. Meaning, I don’t want any other unit than the one with this view. So I won’t be making any sudden moves.

And if something else opens up in my price range, closer to my lease expiration, even better. And please God PLEASE let the OEH get a job before my next abode is the state penitentiary. …

Saw this at Ian’s. It’s been a long time since I cracked a genuine smile about anything…

DSCN4064

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So I’ve been thinking it’s time I came to terms with the fact that my latest bad mood isn’t going to go away on its own. Further, if I were to be really honest about it, it’s pretty much the extended dance remix of an unresolved sadness I encountered about a month ago.

I worked in the mental health field long enough to know that everybody’s crazy, and that I don’t need therapy because everyone ELSE is fucking nuts. On the other hand, I’m not above paying someone to let them hear me bitch up a blue streak! 😉

My typical response to stress and the unfairness of life has always been to drink excessively and enjoy the company of inappropriate men. These days, I do both in moderation. I need an outlet, yo.

I’ve never been one to pick up the phone and vent. I had my circle in D.C., though, who knew me well enough to know when to approach and know when to let me slay my demons on my own. The common denominator (other than me being a mild basket case) was that my many someones always knew that something was brewing. They might not have known whether it was a tropical storm or a full-out Cat-5 hurricane, but they just knew.

And these days, I feel like a mime. Like, how many times to I have to claw at the invisible box around me before someone realizes this isn’t normal behavior, even for me?

I hit my limit this morning when I was researching local therapists and the Over-Extended Houseguest — who finished off my soy-wasabi peanuts AND found my secret stash of soft chocolate-chip cookies (and ATE THEM) — burst into my room to inform me that someone ran over a frog in the parking lot.

*headslam*

OK, God, I’ll quit asking you for that sign that I need therapy now!

I keep trying to leave my “pity, party of one” but it’s the Hotel California of pity parties this week. But it’s the only party I’m able to attend this weekend, so I’ll have a drink for everyone!

I made the mistake of waking up on Monday and declaring it would be an amazing day. And it WAS awe-inspiring in that I basically went ass-over-teakettle and now look like I’ve undergone a skin graft and a marriage counseling session with Mike Tyson.

Didn’t make that mistake yesterday, and it was nice and uneventful. Today I ventured a,, “I hope today doesn’t suck.” That was before the universe shoved the nozzle of a Dirt Devil up my ass and set it to “blow.”

Today I had full intentions of booking a flight to D.C. (I didn’t.) I’d been planning to sneak up there this weekend for my friend’s birthday party. Almost bought the ticket, too. Twice. But alas, I’d have to take pressing projects with me. And that’s no fun.

Originally I wasn’t going to do it because of the $1,200 oil change. But meh, it’s only money, right?

My plan was simple: Fly in early, rent a car, hijack free Wi-Fi at my favorite coffee place for a virtual conference, visit old friends at old job, crash at birthday girl’s house, spend next day/evening birthday-partying at the National Harbor with that group of friends, go to old church, catch afternoon flight, do daily project, go to bed.

Good thing my imagination’s still intact — I’ve been worried about it! 😉

This is the same group of friends whom I was unable to join in New Orleans last month. (I had planned to go. …) One has since moved to South Carolina. Life needs to stop changing so fast — I’m missing EVERYTHING, it seems.

Today, I did buy a Washington Nationals T-shirt and teddy bear instead. Had to do SOMETHING today to feel closer to D.C. I consider it having something to wear on my next (er, first?) visit.

I read this great article in Early to Rise about “Overdosing on Loneliness.” And it’s about the only thing that prevented another crying jag out of me as I pitied my poor widdle self. (I swear, I heard Paris Jackson speak yesterday, and I started crying and never managed to stop.)

“In the final analysis, perhaps all of us simply expect too much from life, thus setting ourselves up for disappointment when it fails to deliver the endless happiness we envisioned when we were young.”

I need to go home to connect, and also to disconnect in a way. To see that not only is the grass not greener, but also that there really wasn’t that much foliage at all, come to think of it. Or maybe there was and I was just too busy to see it. …

I’m declaring this day fired as of 8:32 a.m. Eastern.

Went to my favorite bagel place and remembered why I don’t eat the egg-whites-and-cheese-on-multigrain — because the egg slipped out and onto my white shirt. American cheese stain not FTW. I’m leaving it for now because it will look worse if I treat it.

I’d gotten coffee, which is usually all I get on my daily run. (Not a fan of the coffee at work.) Well, the parking garage is filthy on a good day, and it was apparently a great day. I was trudging up the steps with my coffee when *BAM*, I went ass over teakettle on the stairs.

The coffee splattered on my beige pants, but oddly, it was only four or five drops. I kept that cup and its contents intact, god damn it.

I wish I could say the same for my pants and, worse, my skin. My left knee is torn up and my right tibia/fibula/whatthefuckevah is gonna bruise more colofully than the Fourth of July sky.

If I go home mysteriously around noon, it will be because I realized I should return to bed and that I never really should have gotten out of it in the first place.

Isolation

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. For that matter, I don’t really recall the last proper day off — one without e-mail checking AND without piled-up errands.

When I snuck down to the beach last night, it may sound bizarre, but I felt closer to God than I have been in a while. Maybe if ever. I know I’m feeling guilty over not having been to church since (*gulp*) early May, and it really affects me when I feel like the divine connection is weak.

Not that I pass for anything remotely resembling a good Christian. But when I feel like my creativity is in the toilet and my heart is circling the drain, that I’m going against the very reason I’ve been put here. When I’m unable/afraid to connect with God is when I need Him most of all.

In my small moments of self-rediscovery this weekend, including some reading on making dreams come true, it occurs to me that one must define the dreams before they can be put on the official “to-do” list. When you do what I do — getting out of bed, check — not ending up in federal prison, check — every day, no wonder greatness never comes my way. I don’t put myself in a position to receive it.

Life hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would. And I found myself briefly thinking, “And it never will,” and it made me sick. But where did all the dreams go? I always figured I’d end up in the right place at the right time. I never wanted to force traditional life milestones on myself. I always figured I had to pay my dues and the payback would come in time.

And that small voice pipes up and asks sometimes, “What will be left of you when it does?”

Usually I give that voice a nice dose of Pinot Noir till it passes out. 🙂

I found myself wondering the other day about the road more-traveled, and why I always have to pick the unchartered one. And how not a one of them has led me to my life of leisure, writing trashy romance novels based on my salacious exploits.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some exploits. Not enough to write about. 😉 And the only really creative thought was that I should throw out my thousands of pages of notes for my fiction series and start over. Maybe use Wall Street as a setting. With names changed to protect the innocent and all. 😉

I guess what I’m looking for is that guarantee that my happy ending is in store, before I quit believing in fairy tales altogether.

I took this photo as my “skinny jeans” for the soul. Let’s not talk about the 10 pounds I’ve gained since I quit going to church. (OK, God, I HEAR YOU NOW.)

But just like I always keep a pair of jeans handy that are a size smaller for inspiration, this beach chair is my mental equivalent, for when I can take more than an hour or day or week or even a month to park my pudgy pork roast ass on it and everyone/everything else BE DAMNED.

Leave a message, ’cause Goddess is dreaming right now.

And just like in the old Corona commercials that inspired this shot, I may toss that first-gen iPhone into the ocean to stop it from ringing. (Also because I want the 3GS.)

Well, I’m going to bed tonight with about six hours’ of work left undone. No big deal — I like the project but it’s just dragging. I just wish weekends were for getting AHEAD and not trying to CATCH UP, whether it’s work or home or personal or whatever.

Maybe I’ll throw that phone into the ocean after all so I can stop feeling guilty for not using it for what I bought it for. …

Not a ‘Capitol Fourth’

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I decided to wander down to my podunk beach town’s Fourth of July celebration last night.

Now, I’m used to seeing eleventy billion food/activity booths and then just as many people cramming themselves into a space meant for half as many people to watch the pyrotechnics. In other words, there’s shit to do.

Not here. Two burger/dog tents, two booze tents and a band on the beach. That had an unnecessary apostrophe. (A “blue’s band.” Sigh.)

The smaller celebration was a welcome change, though, given that it only took me 10 minutes to drive home. 🙂

I was working most of the day yesterday, and when I got ready to go out, I was ready to go out. The OEH had been hovering, hoping I’d take her somewhere. I overheard her on her phone telling people, “Well, she SAYS she’s working, but I don’t know.”

So I was ready to roll around 3 and, it killed me, but I asked if she wanted to go with. She said no. I hung out for a bit because I know her — she has to be begged.

But a half-hour later, as she was curling her hair for the third time that day, I asked if she was getting ready to go out. She said no, that’s OK, I’m fine. You go ahead.

You don’t gotta tell me twice! *poof*

I was three streets away when she called to say she changed her mind. I was all, WTF? Of course, she blamed it on her phone not working right that the call didn’t come through sooner.

I remembered what one of my boys told me yesterday, to think of my “independance” — that it’s a dance and I have to take the lead to get my freedom.

So I said I wasn’t coming back. And that she could take a cab if she wanted. (‘Cause I’m “MEAN”!)

She didn’t.

As for me, at this point I had five hours to kill before fireworks. (Yes, I could have gone back home. But I didn’t WANT to. I don’t know how to make it any more obvious that I am SO OVER HER SHIT.) I ducked into all the little boutique shops and enjoyed glasses of Blue Moon and pina coladas out on the A1A, which was closed to traffic.

I had a bathing suit in the trunk of my car but opted to leave it there. Instead I just sat on the beach for hours and people-watched.

By the time the fireworks started at 9 p.m., I was practically sitting in the ocean, as I had the best seat on the beach except for the clown who decided to stand in the water, blocking my view and getting in the way of the only good photo I got (this one!).

I have to say, as a former city girl, I was skeptical that the fireworks display would be anything amazing. But TD Bank employees were milling around, handing out 3-D glasses. I scoffed at it, but tried it. OMG, it was AWESOME. I have some photos where I put the glasses over the lens and they turned out so trippy.

Who knew — these small-town folks know how to throw a shindig after all! The way I figure, I will probably have moved by this time next year, so I should enjoy where I am, while I’m here. And yes, for a few hours, I stopped hating Florida. Win!

Trippy

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I was just thinking about my favorite Fourth of July. It was in D.C. (of course). But I spent it at home.

It was 2006, just three months before my grandfather died. This time of year is pretty crummy for me anyway — it was my great-uncle Stan’s birthday on the 2nd, my beloved great-grandmother was born on July 3 (she would have been 101 this year), and my grandmother passed away on the 4th. (She’s been gone 10 years this year, and I’m still broken.) Uncle Stan died on the 5th.

Anyway, I was in a great new apartment in 2006 — I would be in it less than a year, as my pending inheritance of Mommy precluded me from keeping my pretty little 1BR because I KNEW she wouldn’t get off her ass and find a job and keep her place in Pittsburgh.

I wasn’t even resentful about it at the time. I am now. But back then, you just did what you had to. I often wonder whether I would have been in less of a “help the needy” frame of mind had I been a registered Republican. 😉

Anyway, I usually went to Five Guys on “cookout” holidays. Always got a little cheeseburger and a cheese dog. That July Fourth was no different. (I had leftover sushi today. Goodbye tradition yet again.)

I remember sitting in my cute apartment, snug and happy as I watched the Capitol Fourth special on the local PBS channel and occasionally popped out to my balcony to see a very tiny corner of the live fireworks.

i remember typing back and forth with some dude who lived on U Street. He wanted so badly to meet me but I wasn’t ready for that. My life was great but my sexuality was a little down in the dumps around that time.

All in all, it was just a carefree time. I think it was a Sunday, which was why I didn’t brave the crowds and join the festivities. I guess I always thought I would have another chance.

Not so much.

Anyway, here I sit, three apartments later, wondering when my own Independence Day will arrive. And here’s a toast that I don’t explode into a red, white and blue blaze of glory in the meantime.

“Well, she lit up the sky that Fourth of July
By the time that the firemen come
They just put out the flames and took down some names
And sent me to the county home
Now I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, or it’s wrong
But maybe it’s the only way
Talk about your revolution
It’s Independence Day..”

— Martina McBride, “Independence Day”

So I asked the over-extended houseguest if she had any plans today. She looked at me like I had three heads and wondered why on earth I would think she was doing anything today.

Um because normal people might hop in the car and do something on a holiday, independent of the person they will be living with until the end of time?

She said she thought we could do something together.

Um because that happens when?

As for me, I saved a very arduous project for the weekend — transcribing two hours of video. Which would be fine if it hasn’t taken me over an hour to knock out nine minutes of film. This is looking like a 12-hour project and I wish, wish, wish I’d had the motivation during the week to do this.

It’s the first beautiful day here in weeks and there are fireworks on the beach later. My deal with myself is to try to knock out the first hour of this video and then go see what’s happening on the ocean. I guess I’ll have a tagalong, and unfortunately not the cookie variety!

Storm’s brewing

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, a girl finally gets a day off and how does she spend it? Eight hours went straight down the toilet today at the mechanic’s. We’ll just call it the “$1,200 oil change.”

I knew my brakes were shot — it rains like a mofo down here in SoFla (not quite SoBe where I am) and I knew when some asshole cut me off and the water was up to my door handle and I BARELY stopped in time, I figured I might just have a problem.

I suppose when one’s foot goes through the floor a la Fred Flinstone, it’s a wonderful moment of brake FAIL. (Which is a recurring theme — airplanes, cars, whatev.)

I was almost done after seven hours in the shop until they took the car off the risers and the thing burst into a cloud of heavy smoke when they hit the gas pedal. That was fun. I saw it firsthand. Apparently some important wire was missing, oh, the MIDDLE OF IT. Synapses firing, blah blah blah. I don’t remember what the guy said. All I heard was, “Another $50 and another 45 minutes.” *thunk*

But don’t get me started on why the a/c suddenly sounds like a faulty jet plane. Because, you know, a girl can only take so much in one day. I should have spent the day working but, hmm, why would a place where people are captive for hours at a time have Wi-Fi?

Silly me, thinking I’d get anything done. Of course, I had also planned on seeing a movie today. And having lunch. Yeah, not so much on either front when you don’t have a CAR available. How I wished I had someone to pick me up and drop me off … who I’d want to spend time with, of course. 😉

In other failure news, I ordered a Fail Whale shirt from Zazzle. Nothing like truth in advertising. And BOY was it appropriate to wear today.

I knew the shirt cost about a million times more to buy than to make. And my assumption was proven true when I walked around for a while with my purse on my shoulder and, when I put it down, I saw the fabric on the shoulder had bunched up and soldered itself together. I tried to give it a fast tug and, oops, it created a huge hole in the fabric.

Not only shirt FAIL, but also FailWhale FAIL!