Caterwauling

Gemini horoscope: “If you close your mind, you will inevitably shut out some people who could enrich your life in ways you don’t yet understand.”

This provided a bit of a wake-up call today. Because while I’ve been sitting around aspiring to the job of God so I can freely judge (some) people, I realize I can very easily lose someone else in the process.

I have so many snarky comments to make about something. Not about the person I care about. I am very protective of that person. I just want to show said individual that they are worthy of so much more … that someone who causes them pain now will cause them nothing but grief for as long as they allow it … that they can have it easy if only they’d just let things happen the way they should.

I struggle between “letting things happen as they should” and what I believe is “doing the right thing” because I just can’t stand idly by and watch people actively prevent their own happiness because they think it will make for absolutely awesome conditions, the more they deprive themselves now.

And then a morning like this comes along, and it hits me — I’ve said enough. I’ve worried enough. I’ve cried and pontificated and stressed and prayed and loved my friend enough. My work here is pretty much done, especially if said friend decides that I’ve said too much.

The bigger realization I’ve come to today is that I’ve been distracted for far too long. I remember telling this friend that “if it’s hard or it hurts, it’s wrong.”

Well, people choose their own pain. And this is how I’ve chosen mine.

I need to learn from myself, don’t I?

I’ve lost a lot of time wondering and worrying and wishing. I don’t want to let go — I’ll never let go. But it’s high time to worry about what I’m doing more than what my friend is.

As they say, it’ll be all right in the end. And if it’s not all right yet, then it’s not the end.

And I don’t want it to end because my way of showing that I care has mostly been to curse the “sundown,” as it were. Since I am the sunrise and all and I am a beam of awesomeness that can eradicate the shadows and bring the light to life.

Anyway.

I offer my light and my life and my love and everything a friend could want and need. But I need to keep in mind to only do it when asked or when otherwise appropriate.

And let’s face it, I’ve forgotten everything *I* want out of life in the process. The distraction — nay, the obsession — has made me dead inside, made me cry, made me question everything and, worst of all, made me stop focusing on not just becoming better at my vocation, but at even doing it at a capacity that reflects my abilities.

Basically, I have put myself in a position that having my say in one area could cost me everything else.

Silly sunshine girl. Focus, my dear, on what you CAN control. And in the immortal words of the artist Travis, “Love will come through — it’s just waiting for you.”

“There was somethin’ in the way
You looked at me that day
Like someone far away that you once knew
I saw it too, whoa oh oh whoa oh oh
I’m startin’ over
So here we go. here we go.”

— Joshua Radin, “Here We Go”

The universe granted me a wish. Granted me several, actually. I just wish I’d been more specific about the outcomes.

I miss the way he used to look at me. …

“I sold my guitar and my piano
I thought that it was these that kept me low
I thought if only I could try and change
That all my pain would be in yesterday.”

— Michelle Featherstone, “Coffee and Cigarettes”

Yeah, I’m back on the cigarettes. Never left the coffee. I was wondering whether not blogging made me a happier person, since the really intense emotions have started taking over again that I never dreamed I’d feel again. But I can sell my pens and notebooks and my domain, and it wouldn’t change the fact that things aren’t perfect. But talking/typing about them, however, seems to amplify that fact, rather than helping me to process, as it has done in the past.

I think the thing about finding love-or-something-like-it is that you don’t know how incomplete you can feel until that day comes (or, rather, GOES).

I can look at him now, when I do see him, and not feel bad anymore. I am thrilled for the dreams I had because my imagination was pretty dead during my year of freelance between jobs. Not so thrilled that I think we frittered away a veritable fuckload of potential. It’s one thing if it just didn’t work. It’s another, the way it did unfold.

And I ask the universe, what gives? Did you forget about me? Do you not love me? Why do some people have it all (theirs AND others’) and the rest of us are left with nothing?

Now of course, God either has something better in mind, or He realizes we both have a LOT of work to do on ourselves, or both. But I wish there were some way to erase the whole past and start over. Not that I would have done *much* differently — I yam who I yam and no amount of hindsight will change that.

But I guess we always wonder whether we’d changed just one variable, how it would have altered the outcome.

Of course, this ain’t square on my shoulders. I could be a better person but it still wouldn’t change what needs to change most.

I just wish I could stop dwelling. But I have two months’ worth of tirades to work through. So, you know, deal with it. 😉

I just hate that the friendship is so tenuous at best. Because if that’s where we’re better off, and I am MORE THAN OK WITH THAT, it’s not a full friendship anymore and THAT is what bothers me.

Will we ever get to normal when we never actually were … although we were pretty damn close … closer than I’ve ever been with anyone?

Goddess, Paris. Find a hot Frenchman and forget about all these American boys whose worldviews are as expansive as the small town you all live in now. ..

Klonopin that’s been in the freezer for two years is better than no Klonopin at all.

If this isn’t a day for the record books, I don’t know what is.

And I don’t know why I give a single flying fuck about my personal life when I have plenty of other shit to occupy my waking hours.

I want to be a star. But even those are dead, burned-out pieces of nothingness. And by that definition, apparently my mission is accomplished.

Somebunny needs a new goal …

I was spiffing up my personal ad last night and realized what I want is him, but a version that wants me. How do you put that into words?

“The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for.” — Maureen Dowd

It astounds me what people will settle for in a personal “relationship.” Blows my mind even further what great things they give up to hold on to so very little.

I’d say I’m the “great things” to which I refer, but since my heart really did turn into a paperweight at some point, my give-a-fuck-o-meter refuses to actually turn over and feel any amount of joy at this fact.

Dear men, we know everything on your mind … everything you’re up to … everything you’re even THINKING of doing before you ever do it.

But what makes it feel a little better, assuming we still felt the way we did, is seeing that you just didn’t manage to upgrade. 😀

God, I would have killed myself if she were beautiful or brilliant or classy or a combination thereof. I wouldn’t be this OK if it were any other way.

But if I lift the paperweight, I find that I really wish he’d find someone better. Not better than ME, mind you. Just … if you could see this through my eyes, you’d understand why I’m so friggin’ astounded.

Even if it isn’t me. I’m OK with that. I just know he can do so much better and it kills me to see him being happy with absolutely nothing. (At least, as far as I can tell from a copious amount of Facebook stalking. And, hell, knowing what I know.)

Maybe he sees something I don’t. Or maybe it’s time to take someone to the eye doctor. 😉

When I said yesterday about the car that no one will love it like I would have, but it’s time to let someone else try, I wasn’t talking about the car. And I certainly wasn’t talking about her. …

Another day, another set of fruitless negotiations with the car dealer.

Someone explain to me how paying $269 a month over six years with $3,000 down is a deal on an $18,000 car. Seriously.

Also explain how my Blue Book value is $2,100 and they say $500 is the best they can do.

Well, I get it. I’ve been arguing nonstop with this dealer for now three days. I’ve got a great insight into the car biz.

At this point, I could go either way on the car. Yes I know I’m getting ripped off. But as someone pointed out to me, the light went out in my eyes recently. Not that they had seen it since I was about 18. And this stupid car was the only thing that made me kind of happy. Not sparkling like I was, but kind of excited about something for a change.

I can’t keep working this hard and tolerating this much disappointment in the life and love department without SOME amount of reward in sight. This would do the trick.

However, being leveraged to the eyeballs wouldn’t exactly do wonders for my peace of mind either. Between monthly IRS payments and a few brand-new expenses that I can’t help (I assure you, NOTHING benefits me these days), this ain’t car-payment time.

This time next year, when I’ve moved and settled into a less-expensive (and, please God, more-spacious) place, I can pick up a payment again. The IRS problem will have been solved. I’ll have hopefully been promoted again. 😀

But this adorable little car in the custom color will also be long gone.

Nobody would love that car the way I do. Not sure why they won’t make me a deal I can’t refuse.

Of course, I say the same about the men in my life.

And frankly if a boy isn’t putting a sparkle in my eye, something has to, and the car is the closest thing I’ve got today.

Not only do I already have her name picked out but I just bought a new iPhone case in the same color as the car. So that way, I’ve satiated my need to make a purchase.

And even if the car isn’t meant to be mine, I’ll always remember that brief, shining moment when it was.

Have I done enough moving on this year … is it time to take a leap of faith again and maybe fly this time? Or is this a year for moving on and better things being worth the (damn near soul-crushing) wait?

I can’t prove it. I’m thinking there’s a sin of omission on the information-provision front. But I’ve had a very ugly feeling that an evil presence was going to show up on my sands this week. And for all that has been going, well, NOT RIGHT, I think my guess is spot-on.

I just wish Elphaba would hop the fuck back on her broom and un-taint my peaceful and serene part of the world. (And it is MINE, not YOURS. Know this.)

This was supposed to be a great week and I am convinced the dark cloud above me is the presence of — well, maybe not evil, but someone I would definitely NOT be friends with.

Of course, if I could just get (and keep) my head on straight, I wouldn’t care. It’s the “keeping” part that’s a continual challenge.

I can’t explain it just yet. One day when I write my autobiography, I will. Till then, I’ll be burning a white candle for protection. …

Back in college, we all used to tell each other, “Have a day!” before going off to classes and work-study jobs and other adventures. It quickly morphed into, “Have a shitty day,” because that’s usually what happened.

But the original sentiment is ingenious. Have a day. That, you will achieve. No failure there. See — that really DOES start you off on a positive note!

I debated whether to announce to old friends/Facebook/loyal readers that I’m back. But I almost feel like I’d be doing everyone a disservice. I mean, I didn’t blog during the happiest few months of my life — and I pick NOW to come back? Lord. Don’t I at least owe you people some joy and sage words about life, work and love?

(Stop laughing!)

So the big thing happening right now is car-shopping. Something not done since the days post-9/11 when I decided that relying on public transportation (which had shut down while I was at work in a terrible part of town) was no longer an option. I went to the nearest dealer, pointed and took home my car.

And here I am over a decade later (and older), doing it again.

I found my car. I LOVE THIS FUCKING CAR. So it doesn’t have a sunroof. The guy said he’d kick one in for free. I said knock the price down by the $1,500 that it would cost and we’ll talk.

No dice. It’s impossible to get a good deal on a used car in this economy … even one as tricked-out and shiny and colorful as this one. Le sigh. Everybody wants a used car. It’s a seller’s market, even though consumer confidence is crap as far as I can tell.

They are however trying to get me into a 2013. That I like less. Way less. Oh and it costs five grand more. Of course. They said they didn’t want to take a loss on the car. Um, I was the only person in the dealership for the FIVE HOURS they kept me there. Lose three grand off the sticker or let me walk away from a $20K car. Hmmm. OK.

I’ve just dumped so much money into my little Samantha Jones (clearly you can tell what I was watching on TV when I bought it), especially recently, that I cannot bear to take care of the pending repair bill. I could have put a down payment on a friggin’ house, after what I spent this past fiscal quarter. So do I do the next set of repairs and pray that THIS TIME IT’S FINALLY IT, since I truly have now replaced EVERYTHING on her … or do I say fuck it and GIMME MAH DREAM CAR, YO?

I’ve spent too much time un- or under-employed to trust that life will be happily hunky-dory from now into the hereafter. I try really hard. I work a lot. I mean well. But my industry has been a disaster. I think my company is the only one that’s actually going to make it. But I see what other companies (including several ex-employers) are doing to “make it,” and it ain’t pretty.

I thank God every day for the good job and the resources to do it and the paycheck that lets me live on the ocean. And I know God wants us to stretch our faith. I think He does want me to have my cute little car, too.

I’ve prayed on it and talked to Him about it. (I could swear I heard Him tell me to fund a Roth IRA with the downpayment amount instead, but that could have been a hallucination. I have enough psychic flashes to qualify me as crazy and that might have been one of them.)

Anyway, for logical purposes, I need the car. Rather, “A” car. I’ve been running the wheels off of Mom’s, which has been nice since I pay the insurance on it and I’m finally getting my money’s worth. But I want a car that, when I take her on the Miami Expressway, she actually ACCELERATES and doesn’t get me damn near killed.

And my new little would-be car accelerates by mind control, yo. Practically, anyway.

Some girls go to the mall when they’re depressed — I go to the auto mall!

Alas, I think common sense will win out. It always does. Eventually.

The rent’s a bitch and the home sitch is status quo. I’m also afraid that I’d be buying the car because I have control over NOT A DAMN THING ELSE and this would be my way of telling the world, well, a girl’s gotta get her way once in a while.

Just once, I want to know I can do something without it biting me in my ample butt. What to do, what to do …

So anyway, yeah. Had a day. Had a few days. Had a couple of weeks. And I’m wondering whether having this cute little new car would make the smiles come a little more easily again, like they did back when the world looked a little rosier through my eyes.