Caterwauling

Idyllic

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Boy have I been in a mental state for the past few days.

Money is the root of all evil, I’m just saying it now.

Money is the reason why my mother spent the last two years living with me. (Clarification: because of the lack thereof.) Money is the reason why she has her own place now because I have more than I did.

Money is the reason I harbor a world of resentment because instead of banking my money or using it for things that would make my life more enjoyable, I’ve now got two full sets of bills to pay.

Yet, my space would not be possible without money.

It’s such a Catch-22.

Five-ish years ago when I had no job, money was my curse because I was able and willing to work but couldn’t get hired to save my life and, thus, couldn’t earn any money to stay afloat. In this fucked-up economy, money is still elusive because what you have today can go up in flames in an instant.

I had a rough night last night. I realized that Mom was right and that my financial problems (the latest round) all started when I decided I HAD to get my own apartment again. That I HAD to get some shred of sanity in order to keep having a reason to continue my journey through this world.

Ergo, the conclusion is: Goddess is not meant to be happy in this world, and will be punished severely for even trying.

I don’t believe that to be true. But the little demons in my head that refuse to be quieted when I’m stressed out really made their case on that front.

But I’m no Mother Theresa. Sure I make sacrifices all the time. But if I don’t squeak in something for me in there once in a while, there will be nothing left of me.

Last night I went to the beach for an hour or two. I paid for my access and the check luckily cleared five days before my bank hijinks ensued (yay!).

God, it was good. Really.

I took my iPod and got soaked by renegade waves.

I sat on a lounge chair and watched planes prepare to land in Fort Lauderdale.

I texted with one of the best friends a girl could have. And I tried very hard not to lament the fact that I have no friends within a 1,000-mile radius and that all my favorite people are no less than a two-hour plane ride away.

I did come back when Mommy tried calling me because she was in my apartment to feed the cat and my shit was there and I wasn’t.

Sigh.

And even though I had sand between my toes, I lied about my whereabouts when I invited her back for us to eat the last two Lean Cuisines I have in the freezer because I haven’t been able to get us food.

I’m very much in a position of mental weakness right now, and I believe wholeheartedly that this is why bad thing after bad thing keeps happening to me.

I just want something good to happen, you know? ANYTHING. Anything that will give me a sign that it will get better.

Because otherwise, you end up with nights like I had last night where I was up NOT even worrying about my own tidal wave of suck, but how to ALSO find the strength to shoulder my mother’s as well.

I totally understand the midlife crisis now. I mean, really. I get it.

When you’re earning enough that you SHOULD be living all right, and when you’ve got the whole world strapped to your back and you simply cannot get out from under it … when the one thing you own (i.e., my car) — the thing that always took you far and fast away from everyone and everything that sucked — is nothing but a pile of junk …when nothing is really yours and you’re just tired of sharing your toys because you have to … when you have to put on a happy face (or at least one that doesn’t convey how fucked-up things really are) and keep pushing forward … I can TOTALLY see why someone goes out and buys a “penis car” or divorces their lifemate and goes in search of someone half their age. ANYTHING to recapture what it was like to have hope again.

I realize I probably sound like a nutjob on this blog. But it’s my only friend right now. Probably has been my only friend for a long time. At least, the only friend I confide in.

I often think I’m getting too old to blog. Especially with this existential horseshit that’s better left unacknowledged. Maybe the blog is my solution to MY midlife crisis.

I dunno. I guess I’m looking around right now and seeing no chance of retiring, no chance of Mom NOT being dependent on me, and no real reason to think that things will ever change.

But I also know that, the second my damn check card arrives, my whole outlook will change and I will be dancing on the ceiling with absolute and utter joy.

As I said, money is the root of all evil. But it does buy peace, as fleeting as it may be. And I’m not one to pass up peace anywhere I can get it.

Think about how much money I would save by not paying for Mommy to live elsewhere. And while I may not be able to sustain it for more than a year, I know to enjoy it while I have it. Because what’s left of my mental health? Is worth any price tag you can put on it. …

They say a fool is easily parted with his money. What am I, the goddamned village idiot? When is life going to stop treating me as its chew toy?

“I got a chip on my shoulder
About the size of a mental block
I’ve got someone on the telephone
Trying to sell me a future in stock

Maybe I work too hard to be happy
And I should practice letting go
But it’s hard not to rock the boat
When you’re sailing against the undertow.”

— Indigo Girls, “Make it Easier”

It’s been a horrible couple of months. I’m trying to figure out just when this run of bad luck started (Mom says it was around the time I signed my new lease) or whether it has been a lifelong streak and it’s just more intense now than usual.

I don’t remember feeling this defeated before. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m Charlie Brown always trying to kick the football and falling on my ass. I know that. But at what point is the bad news going to stop coming and let me mentally get myself back together?

I have a bill from my ex-apartment complex for carpet replacement, on top of everything else. They can sit and spin. I lived there four months and there was one stinky, messy Maddie stain. But they lie when they say they have to replace the carpet in the whole house.

I’m still twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my new debit card. I had to cancel my car appointment. The thing is not only dented to death, but it isn’t running right either. How convenient is it to turn on the A/C and then the brakes don’t work? Good times.

That’s what pisses me off the most about some asshole cleaning out my account. Not only can I not exactly spare it, but I don’t exactly have anyone who can rescue my miserable ass. And I’m getting pretty fucking sick of being everyone’s savior but when it comes my turn, I honestly don’t have a prayer.

(This is not to discount one lovely friend who keeps insisting on helping me. I just figure that if someone tries to send money through the mail, that will be the day that the postman’s brakes go and he drives into the Intracoastal Waterway … anything to keep aid from coming to me personally!)

I also understand that I’m in for a fight with the electric company. My twee 1,000-square-foot condo, where I keep the A/C on 83 degrees at all times, somehow costs $450 to power per month. Uhhh, right. They’re being bitches at the electric company as I am demanding they come out and figure that shit out.

My landlady said that a condo opened up across the way with a south view. I’m north-facing, which is lovely, but the south view is the bomb-diggity, yo. Here’s the deal. It’s a 3BR and costs $500 less than Mom’s apartment and mine combined.

I so very DO NOT WANT her to move back in with me. But I am also lying to myself if I think she will ever be able to pay her own bills. I really truly think that she will be with me for the rest of her life. I also suspect that probably won’t be very long because she’s not well and I have a death wish.

I think saving $500 a month is a good enough reason to take the other apartment. But … I have nothing here. Nothing. Nothing to make me happy. No one to love, no one to love me, no friends, absolutely not a goddamned thing to keep me going anymore.

I’m hemorrhaging money on absolutely dumb shit and I cannot for the life of me manage to get out of bed without spending any less than an hour of coaxing myself that today MIGHT be better than yesterday. ALL I HAVE is my space. Even if my mom is often in it, I can reclaim it at any time.

I just wonder if this run of horrific luck is trying to tell me something. But … what?

It’s pretty bad that I live within walking distance of a bridge. Because on a night like tonight, it’s pretty tempting to go heave my pudgy pork-roast ass over the railing.

Let’s see, the fraudulent charges that were “pending” yesterday (when I alerted my useless POS bank) went through today. So they told me to call said vendors and ask for a refund. Which, they don’t do.

The real icing on the cake was when the bank told me to inform said vendors, “Your charge caused seven instances of overdraft. Will you claim responsibility for those charges?”

*bwahahahaa*

No credit on the charges (45 to 90 days estimated for that) but I canceled my debit card. Another will be here in three days. I had to pay extra for that; otherwise it’s five days. Which, if you’re charging me $25 to “rush” it, wouldn’t that cover the overnight charge?

Not to mention, they can’t send it to work. You know, where I AM when Fedex is on duty.

I had to call the police to file an incident report. I am altogether too familiar with calling the police for other reasons, so it was rather refreshing to talk about stolen money for a change and not giving descriptions and names of crazy people. 🙂 Of course, not only was my account overdrawn by a couple hundred bucks, but I was also late for work. Whee!

So anyway, I logged into my account later to find all kinds of “miscellaneous charges.” I called the bank again and said WTF, my card’s been canceled. The hell? Oh, those were overdraft fees. You know, the ones they wanted the vendors to pay. All $200 worth of them.

*headslam*

So now I’m $400 in the hole and trying to get that crap reversed, too.

Even more good news — I just got a bill tonight from my former apartment complex. I can’t handle it. I know it’s got a comma in it but I got sick just holding the envelope.

I’m down to not a god damned penny here. The only bright spot is that I had given Mom an allowance over the weekend and she hadn’t spent it. I asked her to hit the dollar store for some kitty food, which she did. She also left me a sammich on my stove, which I just scarfed down until …

I saw all the ANTS CRAWLING ALL OVER MAH SAMMICH!

God, seriously?

My gratitude journal is starting to look like the makings of a stand-up comedy routine.

Today I am grateful that I was ALMOST dirt-ass po’ so that when some yahoo stole my checking account information and went on a spending spree — sending my account into negative numbers with just one transaction — I was glad the fucker couldn’t have bought more. 🙂

I mean, really. To buy a freaking PC? On my debit card? Did the bank not notice the eleventy billion dollars I’ve spent at the Apple Store this year? Of course the PC purchase wasn’t mine!

The sad part about this whole charade is that not only could I NOT afford a cup of coffee this morning, but I’m also out of kitty food and Kadie is none too pleased.

The bank told me to call back tomorrow since the transactions were only “pending” and they will likely be rejected overnight anyway. Which, terrific. I’m not mad at that. It’s just this “in the meantime” bullshit. I don’t have much money, but I’m a little panicky about not having access to ANYTHING. I mean, I’m sure Mom had nothing to eat tonight. It’s my responsibility to make sure we get fed around these parts, yo.

Oh well. In the meantime till this gets cleared up, I have some gas in the tank, I haven’t hit any cars (*knock on wood*) lately and I’ve got wine and half a cupcake in the fridge. What more does a girl need?

Perfect

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I’m hellbent on having a good weekend. I went to a food-and-wine festival Friday night, spent the day at the beach yesterday (my coloring could be best described as “crustacean,” fresh outta the pot), and went out last night.

Back to work after church today, but it’s all good. It’s more downtime than I’ve had in months.

I’m amazed at the things that shake loose from my head when I’m not uptight and worried about whatever I just fucked up or probably will fuck up. I’m amazed at all the fun there is to be had that I am continually missing out on.

I saw a great quote on Friday: “If you’re happy where you are, stay in the moment. If not, MOVE ON.”

Sage advice, indeed.

I saw another great quote on the PostSecret site this morning, which was that “I am allowed to be happy.”

Happy is a word I don’t use much, unless I am debating its existence. Or I use it ironically.

Maybe someday I’ll wake up and realize that the strange emotion overcoming me is that ever-elusive happiness. And that will be a moment I will want to stay in and will cling to it for dear life.

I’m probably at my healthiest right now. Not because I quit smoking yesterday (grrrr) but because I almost feel like I have a tiny amount of control over my life right now.

I know, it’s ephemeral. And an absolute illusion.

But bear with me here.

I’m going to beat the stray-cat drum one last time to say that meeting that little guy and spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of hours, was the most-important thing I’ve done while here in South Florida.

I’m not kidding.

Usually I’m at work, or working at home. And that work is important to me. I don’t half-ass things, I don’t work as quickly as others, and I’m still planted firmly on the learning curve.

I don’t love being in “on” mode every minute of every day, but if it means I will know my shit and eventually get a mental break once I’ve mastered what I need to master, that’s the way it goes until that “rest for the wicked” can kick in.

But holding that sick, sad kitty who needed a human to care for him and love him? It occurred to me on a variety of levels that I don’t treasure the humans and felines in my life enough. That there’s always work to be done and it’s a convenient excuse to be gruff or just plain absent.

It’s not even so much an excuse. There’s just nothing left of me to give, and there hasn’t been for years.

But holding a sick, sad kitty contributed SO much more to the world than staring at my computer. Even if it was just his world.

And it wasn’t just his. Being present with him did my own heart a world of good.

I usually wake up every morning in a snit. Usually still tired from the night before, usually before the sun comes up, usually my mind reverts back to WTF I was thinking when I took on the expense of two apartments, two sets of bills, feeding two people, not having anything resembling “me” time and freedom and money in the bank, etc.

But when I woke up after meeting that cat, it was different. I felt like, yeah, the “me” I used to be may be squelched far down, protecting herself and maybe even trying to be invisible for a while, but she’s still there. She’s made a lot of stupid fucking decisions in 2009, and a whole lot of people and things have failed her, but her heart remains intact.

So, while I try to look for the greater meaning in why this loving little cat came into my life (and out of it so abruptly), I think it was to remind me to guard my time, guard my space, guard my heart. People will take it from me and I’m dumb enough to hand it over without a fight.

Gotta save pieces of it for the experiences I need to have, that I want to have. And maybe even when I think there’s nothing left, I can always find something to give when it counts the most.

I just wish, in Lucky’s case, I could have done more. But just like when Maddie died, I’m left with the feeling that this is all telling me to take care of myself, or else end up dying of something that could have been cured, if only I was smart enough to slow down to notice it in the first place.

RIP, sweet little warrior

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

God never closes a door without leaving me wanting to jump out a window.

Isn’t that how the saying goes?

So, about that amazing little cat I met last night. … I called those evil bastards at Animal “Care” and Control this morning, after a colleague and I looked for him on their Web site. When he wasn’t there, I should have been prepared for that call.

They could verify what he looked like, who took him there, what time he got there, and that’s about it. They euthanized him last night.

I of course was not happy. There was supposed to be a note on my file that I’d be calling. I wanted this cat. Of course, calling Animal Control to take him wasn’t the smartest thing in that case, but you know, I didn’t have any better ideas at the time.

I pleaded with the “officer” (WTF is up with all these 21-year-olds calling themselves “officer”?) to tell me what tests they ran, what they did to help him. Did they give him fluids? Anything that resembled a test or a workup?

Nope.

I know he was sick. I wouldn’t have been able to keep him or care for him. Like the “officer” last night, this one noted how dirty he was. Like one of God’s creatures being dirty and in need of help automatically disqualifies them from getting it.

I’m very sad right now. Anger is bubbling up, too. Mostly at myself because I know better than to trust medical personnel of any kind.

I was driving home tonight, sobbing of course, and luckily not hitting anyone or anything. And I remembered how I was struggling to conjure up his name, like a cat whisperer or something.

It occurred to me tonight that he might never have had a name.

It also occurred to me that my photos might have been the only ones ever taken of him.

And that my mom and I were possibly the only ones to ever hug him and love him.

I thank all my friends who were praying for him last night. We were probably the only ones who ever loved and rooted for this wonderful little guy.

Mom called me this morning to say she had come up with his name.

“Lucky,” she said.

“Lucky?” I asked, thinking that cat had anything BUT luck, and this was before we knew the fuckers at the shelter eradicated his existence with nary an examination.

“He’s lucky that he found you,” she said.

I wouldn’t go that far. God knows I’m cursing my luck more than usual tonight.

But I’m lucky I got to meet him, and give him the love that he’d probably never known.

I’m the lucky one, indeed.

Goodbye, little guy. Tell Maddie that her Mommy misses her more than ever right now. And I hope to meet you both when I get to where you are.

I always call my mother “Snow White,” as she always adopts the neighborhood strays and feeds them and gives as much love as she can to these feral animals.

Last night I was working in my apartment around 9 p.m. and she called to say there was a sick kitty down by our pool. (The pool I haven’t set foot near in the two months I’ve lived here due to lack of time.) I was like, mmhmm, OK. Fine. Whatever. Can I get back to work now?

She called back later to ask if I’d bring down some food. For once, I didn’t even argue, since I had been thinking about that kitty for an hour.

He was very sweet, very docile and very sick. Reminded me of Maddie in her final days. Very weak, very loving, very wobbly. I’d guess kidney failure for him, too. Gorgeous black cat with white paws and the sweetest face you can possibly imagine.

I held him for an hour or so before calling the county animal control. It took the guy another hour to get to me. I continued to try to get the kitty to eat and basically just tried to keep him warm with the towel I’d brought down to cloak his bony body.

It hurt to part with him — it was like handing Maddie over to the vet techs, all over again. I cried for a good hour. I’m still very sad now.

I always stop and wonder “why” — why did this cat cross our paths? Was this a chance for me to do something good or heroic or make up for Maddie’s miserable end?

I lined the kitty’s cage with my towel. I guess I just wanted him to remember that, as he was whisked away, he was loved … even if only for a few hours.

I asked if I could get an update on him and they said I could call the office today. The guy also said, “Well, we DO have plenty of OTHER pets waiting to be adopted.” *kick*

What I find funny is that it’s easier to find immediate shelter and care for a cat than it is for a human. Actually, it’s not funny. It pisses me off.

But I’m sure, like Maddie and my grandfather and my grandmother before that, the medical staff will give up on them before they even get there. Too old, too ragged, too sick.

And I feel bad, too. If I didn’t see a Maddie-sized vet bill for a cat I had just met, I probably would have taken him to the emergency vet myself.

I’m saying a prayer for my little four-pawed warrior and hoping that he’s comfortable. And I’m saying a prayer to thank God that I could fall in love so easily with another cat, so soon after losing my own. I never thought it would happen.

I didn’t dent any cars today, so that alone qualifies today as a victory.

I started a “gratitude journal” today. I figure, when I’m feeling cursed, it’s the ultimate irony.

My entries are heavily sarcastic, like “I haven’t totaled my car (yet)” and “My rap sheet is homicide-free (so far).”

Hey, those count as blessings!

I got an unexpected bit of hope today in an unexpected phone call. Nothing to hang my hat on, mind you, but a reminder that I was special once. And maybe that I still am, deep down in there somewhere.

Actually, I got another unexpected bit of hope. I was checking in on Lachlan’s blog (wow, between a quick phone call and blog-reading, I almost seem like I have free time!), and someone anonymously sent her mom a nice sum of money to pay her bills.

My comment, although misspelled (gah) was to thank this anonymous angel for giving me the faith in humanity I so desperately needed to hear about today.

Miracles really do happen. I was starting to not believe in them anymore. So, thank you, anonymous friend. I don’t even need to be the direct beneficiary of a miracle; being part of one or simply knowing that nice things DO happen to great people is just as good. 🙂

You know, as if it weren’t bad that I dented my car twice in the same week — just less than a month ago — I of course put another big fat fucking dent in the car again tonight.

Gah.

I need to just give up on having a vehicle and move somewhere with great mass transportation. (D.C., anyone?) Seriously, I cannot be this preoccupied all the goddamned time and expect to survive. I was just SO TIRED and not paying attention as usual. My poor car.

Really, it’s indicative of bigger issues. Is my eyesight going? Or am I just such a pudgy little ball of stress that I am absolutely incapable of driving correctly anymore?

I used to be so careful. I used to care so much about my car. Now, it’s all just so secondary to whatever I feel like I SHOULD be doing instead of wasting time in the car. *sigh*

I’m fine. I guess. I just wish I could lock myself in the house for a few days, catch up on my sleep and just get my head back into the game already.

But seeing as though that ain’t gonna happen, perhaps someone could chauffeur me around for a few weeks? Pretty please?