Caterwauling

Sabre turned me on to an amazing blog last night and, in particular, a series on Terrible Bargains.

I want so desperately to digest it and come up with a coherent post of my own. And I’m sure I will post about it eventually, although I wouldn’t go out on a limb and promise it’ll be coherent. 🙂

The terrible bargains we make every day in the name of keeping the peace — but in accepting it when others demean us as individuals or as a group considered to be lower-class because we are of a particular gender, body size, color, belief system, etc. (even if you claim we personally are the exception to whatever rule you’ve come up with) — are what corrode our sense of identity. It’s an amazing read and I encourage you to visit the links provided.

This hits home for me because I’ve found myself being on the snarky end of comment-making lately. I try so hard to be a good steward and stand up for what I believe in. And yet, when I see another woman absolutely disgracing what the rest of us have worked so hard for, I get good and frothy mad.

I’m aware that I’ve been generating some bad karma because of this anger and disappointment. And I realize that at least I’m human that I recognize and regret the way I react, but most others probably wouldn’t.

And the reason why I never try to pick on someone who might be calling that kind of attention to themselves so as to attract buzz, well, is because I’ve been the butt of one too many jokes — whether I was in the room to hear them or not — and it pisses me right the fuck off how people feel the need to raise themselves up by putting down someone else.

There was a great line in the first blog post I linked to, “Swallow shit, or ruin the entire afternoon?”

In other words, stand up and call someone out on their narrow-minded meanness, or suck it up and not make waves? Have an uncomfortable series of moments in silence, or risk turning it into a useless battle and — in my estimation — painting the target on your back for future bullshit?

I found myself in this situation when somebody I thought better of made an absolutely ignorant, racist comment. I asked if I’d heard it right. And then I declared I was so very done with that person. Loudly.

Even though I was completely in the right, I find myself feeling sorry for that person. And in a way, almost trying to excuse their stupidity as them not knowing any better.

And speaking up, which I am absolutely fine with because I’m happy to school people when they need it, made for a lot of discomfort on my part in having to deal with that person again. Like, wondering if they were mad at me and how that would impact me.

And that’s such a small example. I get into less trouble when I focus my ponderings on myself, so I’ll take the “swallow shit” thing back and tell you it tastes like ass. How many times we should say something and don’t. How many times we just need to get out of the line of sight of someone looking to pick a fight. How often we just need for a discussion to just end already before we lose the composure we fight so hard to maintain.

How often we just want to pop someone in the jaw because they so very righteously deserve it but we’re the ones who’d get into trouble for “over-reacting” to “an innocent observation.”

The comments on those posts are fascinating, too. The amount of anger and self-defensiveness on the part of those whose iddy biddy widdle feelings are hurt because they’ve been called out pretty much says it all. My friends and I have always been in agreement that those who are paranoid and defensive (and offensive) are those who are aware that they’re being shady and that’s why they are always ready to attack — anything to weaken the enemy even before they are established as an enemy.

We’re not the enemy, people. You making us into the enemy DOES NOT make us the enemy. And then when our own reaction is mistrust until proven otherwise, we’re written off as deserving of whatever you say about us.

Oh, I don’t have a personal stake in this discussion. Not at all. 😉

More to come, I’m sure. …

As I was driving home, I had a choice between buying smokes or buying dinner for Mommy.

Mommy got fed. And I’m climbing the walls.

It’s not that I like smoking. I hate everything about it. But I do it as a measure of control — normally on nights like tonight when I find myself feeling so bitter, I could just die.

I was mostly irritated that I got an e-mail from Mom, asking if I could buy her a lamp, when I’ve dumped well-upward of a grand on her rent and bills this month (not including food) and I’m down to nothing and I couldn’t take care of all of MY bills this month.

I am doing far too well on paper to be stretched this thin. It’s really fucking irritating. I deserve a new car or a trip to France. But I had to have my freedom. It’s my own fault. It’s always my fault.

Anyway, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” is on, and it’s the only thing making me happy. Except … I find myself feeling like Sally — hanging around waiting for that stupid Linus to get a clue.

I often pine for D.C. It’s a daily thing. I thought I was so happy there. But even if I wasn’t, I had reached a level of peace about it.

But apparently the premonition I had a month ago came true.

And while I’ve been entangled with enough unavailable men in my day to not believe everything I hear, I wonder if I’d still be sitting in that same stupid pumpkin patch — just like Sally — for absolutely nothing, had I stayed.

I’m sad to say, because of that mini-revelation, I’ve never been so happy to be in Florida.

And if that’s what it had to take, then so be it.

Sally, don’t stay in the pumpkin patch all night. You’re not getting any younger.

If Linus doesn’t love you the way you love him, let him settle for waiting for the Great Pumpkin, instead of the other way around. …

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Today didn’t suck. *squee!*

Well, OK, maybe it almost did when I was driving home a half-hour ago and accidentally ran a red light and a turning truck almost made mincemeat out of me; that would definitely have sucked.

The bright side?

Good thing I didn’t spend three grand on fixing the car (yay for not having it!), only to put it in harm’s way. THAT would be my luck.

What is it with me and that car? Seriously! And I’d just downed a whole ton of Starbucks and Diet Mountain Dew to keep me awake during some worky stuff tonight.

Caffeine FAIL, but Jesus loving and protecting me WIN.

This weekend, I entered a contest to win a new car. God willing, may I get it. Lord knows with my credit score, my payment would be about eleventy billion a month if I bought it new.

I’ve never wanted/hoped for anything contest-related in my life. I mean, sure, I want the winning lottery ticket. But that would mean having to, you know, BUY ONE and all.

So I thought I’d join another Meetup group, after the failure that my one foray into Meetup in South Florida turned out to be. (Who knew that plastic surgery qualifies you into admission for a singles group aimed at 35-year-olds? You’re still NOT 35!!!)

Anyway, I remember some asshole at that event not paying the tip on our shared tab. I remember him because when I joined the new group (which promised to be a younger demographic. Hah), he sent me an e-mail to REMIND ME who he was and to say he’d hoped to invite me to something else but I’d vanished and was never heard from again.

Until now.

FUCK! I hate small towns.

Escape

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

We have a saying in my world, that we need to take time to get “back to neutral.” That time is usually no longer than a few minutes or hours, but you take it when you can get it, and you maximize it.

I spent an hour at the beach today, and it was lovely. I spent an hour by the pool yesterday, and it was almost as good. At the pool, there was a very large bearded dragon lounging next to me. Kind of freaky, but he was harmless. I guess he crawled out of the Intracoastal and wanted to get a tan. He was the only one there and he didn’t talk, so he was welcome in my space.

I’ve been crabby of the highest drown-me-in-drawn-butter caliber the past few days. Mostly about money and all the bills I have to pay, particularly those that aren’t mine. I’m mad that because I didn’t make time to see my mother all week, she didn’t eat. There is always something in my fridge, even if it’s just cereal and yogurt, so this self-punishment by starvation shit bores me to tears.

She said something to me after church today, when I wanted to go have someone pray for me and she refused to come along (and I decided to say fuck it and leave because the only person who needs a prayer more than I do is her), she said she wasn’t going to come to church with me anymore. OMG, drama. But she did say something interesting, which is that she’s no good for me. Which is pretty true right now; I ain’t arguing. It’s hard to keep it together for two of us.

And this is why I need church. To remind me to stop thinking about all the money I’m not saving, to forget about all the free time I don’t have, and think bigger. To remember that this life is all I have and I can either worry it away or find the good things and hold on tightly. That there are people SO much worse-off than me and I need to be doing something to help them. That my impact on this world has yet to be begun and I’m not leaving this place without rocking the globe off its axis in one way or another.

It’s funny how just an hour and a half of amazing worship can tilt me back into the right direction. Imagine if I made time for Sunday night worship or other school-night events like feeding the homeless and other projects my church does.

I hold myself back from committing to anything because I don’t want to be a no-show. But I really feel like my calling is to volunteer in my community through my church. I’ve also held back because it’s kind of clique-ish. At my old church, you could not get through the door without all the pastors zeroing on the fresh blood. I’ve been going to the new church for months, and not a soul has noticed my presence. But that just means I have to make myself stand out and, unlike at my old church, here I am ready to do so.

And in that, I feel I won’t get too far from neutral, or at least I’ll have more than just a prayer of snapping back to it much-more often. And maybe I won’t leave that state once I feel like I’m doing the right thing, whatever that might be.

I’ve been trying to “live as if,” as some of the spiritual leader-types call it, although if they were grammatically correct about it, it would be “living as though.”

Anyway, they say that when you’re trying to attract a soulmate, you’ve got to do a whole bunch of rituals and shit like that, but you also must change your life and live “as if” someone special were already in it.

This means having space in your closet for him (he can have the guest-room closet, thanks), and turning that Lean-Cuisine-for-one dinner into a candlelit place setting for two.

I tried all that stuff years ago, and guess who I got? My mother. The universe can kindly go fuck itself now, gracias.

I just deep-sixed a post about my expensive automotive adventures today (I walked away with mind-blowing estimates and not a damn thing fixed) that led into “well I could have gotten some of them fixed if I didn’t have a pile of her rent and bills to pay today.”

I don’t want to get bitter. I really don’t. But if this were a romantic relationship, I would have awakened today and broken up with the guy — kicked his ass out of bed and informed him that breakfast will be at McDonald’s and kindly keep on going. And then I’d be able to stop hiding my (albeit small) purchases like the occasional shirt or cupcake or something because I didn’t buy two of them.

But by virtue of her giving me the gift of so-called life, it’s pretty hard to live as though my obligation to her will ever allow room in my heart (or wallet) for much else.

I will transcend this period of my life. I’ll talk to my soulmate as though he were here. I’ll look at my bank account as though it were five times its size. I’ll treat my rattling deathtrap of a car as though it were a brand-new BMW. And I will thank God for the soulmate that Mom meets who will be a millionaire who takes care of her and allows me the strength to manage and enjoy my own life.

*deep breaths* I am happy. I am happy. I am happy. …

The universe hasn’t done a whole lot to kick my ass this week. There’s your gratitude journal entry of the year. Yay!

Other than one ongoing annoyance (OK, two), I’ll call this week a success. There are more pluses to outweigh the negatives, although it’s not hard to find two (OK, three) good things over the span of seven days!

I awoke today with an odd sense of familiarity — a shocker since I’ve still not unpacked and I’m living on bare essentials. Like, I don’t know, maybe I’m not going to move in another four months and it’s OK to feel comfortable where I am right now.

The morning was uneventful till I got a call from Maddie’s groomer — I’d called them to see if they could get the fleas out of her fur. They were unavailable at the time but I’d told them to call me in a couple of months, as I’d make sure to get her shaved regularly.

She died two days after I’d made that call, so hearing from them today threw me for a fucking loop. I walked to Starbucks to get a soy pumpkin spice latte, but I would much rather have preferred making a beer run had it not been 10 a.m. and the lunch places hadn’t yet opened.

“It was almost fine
You were almost mine
And from town to town
We chased it down
On a broken white line.

“Looking in your eyes
Was just like staring at the sun
Always thought that I’d go blind
Or end up all undone

“And in the end I turned my face away
From where you shone so bright
Now I wake in all this darkness
Crying for a little of your light.”

— Kris Delmhorst, “Broken White Line”

Other than the two reasons why I start to wonder just how fat I’d look in the orange jumpsuit I’d have to wear for the rest of my life if I acted on my impulses, I’ve been able to retreat back into my head to times when I was loved.

I thank four of my guys for that, for being good people and being good to me then and now, when I can barely strangle out a hello.

It’s not that I remember them so much as I remember me. And I’m not even going to insult them or you, for that matter, by claiming that I had my shit together when I knew any of them, either. But it puts a certain spring in a certain girl’s step to know that once her flaws were loved as quirks, her strengths were noticed and lauded, and that she even looked beautiful when they made her feel that way.

And even if that beauty was transient or even imagined, it comes back when she sees that she was important to them. Not that she defines her worth by others, but maybe that’s the problem — that her worth is no longer lauded or visible, and her beauty is hidden and diminishing behind a very heavy cloak — and it’s so good to have those who have seen her soul to force her to remember its value and, hell, its existence.

“It’s been four years and now I find
I’ve been living all this time
I built myself a little world
Of rhythm and of rhyme

“But sometimes I take your picture
And I turn it to the wall
Because you are still a cliff
And baby, I still know how to fall.”

I didn’t mean for this to get so existential. It just boggles my mind — those days when I felt I was half a person — that certain special people saw me as whole. Maybe I wasn’t in such sorry shape as I’d thought.

And now when I do feel whole, yet it feels challenged from every angle and I begin to doubt myself sometimes, I realize I just need my cheering section. And I’m glad they stepped up and realized it before I even did.

Thanks, boys. Love you all. Wish you were here. And I really do mean that.

I’ve often found that people who share a name are often similar in temperament. I won’t name names, but I’m sure you’ve never met a ____ you didn’t like, or a ____ whom you DID.

I’ve finally met the ___ who broke the winning streak of about 15 of his predecessors. Hunh. I’m shocked and, admittedly, disappointed. I have to rename the lead character in my novel series now — I had FINALLY settled on a name I figured I’d never grow to abhor!

But speaking of that name, and one who made me love it, thanks for your note. I remember you fondly as well. And while I prided myself on not playing the “if only” game after our time had passed, I woke up to hearing my iPod randomly blasting about six of “our” songs today. In a row.

And it sounds romantic and hopeless, but I stared at the ocean from my bed and transcended years of cobwebs in a heartbeat to remember you.

OK, I’ll allow myself one round of “if only”: If only I could just switch you with the one who tries to hurt me at every opportunity, life would be as close to perfect as it could ever be. …

I was hastily scribbling something in my gratitude journal today and it occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t be doing my braindump publicly while saying all my nice things offline. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Today I give thanks to everyone who ever gave me a nurturing environment in which to be myself and to cast fear aside in order to be myself and grow to my fullest potential. You know who you are/were. Thank you for never being abysmally disappointed in me (and for never showing it if you were), and for trusting me with big things to create even-greater things.

I’ve also started organizing my mental clutter a bit, and I realize it’s now or never when it comes to creating a space in my mind and heart (and schedule) for “someone else,” whomever he may be.

I bought a bible this weekend. I got “The Message” Bible — it’s pink because part of the proceeds go toward breast-cancer awareness — and this one is promising because I’ve never done well trying to read the traditional tome. Amazing, a book written for modern times, in a font size that my old-ass eyes can comprehend!

I’ve got nothing else tonight. Well, I DO, but its “fit for print” status remains to be seen. Glass houses and stones and shit like that, yo. As long as God loves me, I can pity everyone else who isn’t quite that smart!

Surreal

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Yesterday I spent hours waiting for FedEx to arrive with my new check card.

And unbeknownst to me, my mom was actually sitting in the lobby for three hours, watching for FedEx to arrive.

And unbeknownst to both of us, my landlady had intercepted the delivery of said check card on THURSDAY and never mentioned it. And had we not seen her in the lobby yesterday around 2 p.m., I still wouldn’t have the blasted thing.

I’ve been cigarette-free for over a week and if I can get through this crap without lighting up, I’m pretty certain I can get through anything at this point.

I just feel bad about calling my bank and screaming at them for not being able to give me tracking info on my package. I was going to dispute the rush charge because it sure as hell didn’t get to me in a rush. But it did get to my building in a rush, so I’m going to retreat now. 🙂

I take back everything bad I said about them and, officer, if someone burns down the Fallsgrove branch in Rockville, Md., it wasn’t me or any of my disciples — I promise!

I found myself with a free night last night. I done wore Mommy out so much during the day with my spending spree (we hadn’t had a proper meal in a week so I had to remedy that, followed by frolicking through Costco and other assorted stores) that I had the whole night to myself.

I actually went to a bookstore and met a nice guy. (He didn’t ask for my number, and I didn’t offer. But I would have provided it upon request.) I figure he was probably a serial killer and, upon realizing that I wouldn’t put up a fight, he decided to move on to someone who would provide more of a challenge. 😉

However, I was a moron and was running around in a sundress all day. We’re having a “cold front” here in South Florida. It was only 80 degrees all day. People were out in sweaters and shit. I laughed.

Then I was in my strappy little dress last night and it dropped to 67 degrees. After I got a permanent case of goose bumps, I stopped laughing.

I admit, I’ve spent the last six months mentally comparing how Florida blows in comparison to D.C. Not intentionally, of course. My most-recent thought was that D.C. at least has free activities (museums, fairs, etc.) and I would have at least had something to do when I was penniless these past few days.

But I also remember traipsing around the National Mall in the rain, slush and snow. And while I remember occasionally doing so with someone to keep me warm, I have to admit that knowing the temperature won’t dip much below 70 degrees for the rest of the year is a BIG PLUS to Florida living.

I guess I’m home. Not only is it time to unpack, but definitely to unpack my fall sweaters, ’cause my blood thinned out right quick and I’m COLD, damn it!