Caterwauling

I’ve been blogging about affairs of the heart in an effort to avoid my favorite subject: work.

Not that I’d ever do anything to get positioned to get Dooced again. Had enough of that, thanks.

We’ve been SO busy. I mean, I work till 8 and have to drive almost an hour to get home. Last night I wolfed down some dinner, turned on Rachel Maddow, and was in bed during the 9 p.m. hour.

I realize that I have completely lost my 30s. Waiting for this or that guy. Waiting for this or that project or promotion. Waiting for all the annoying stuff to just stop already and the good part to begin.

Met a nice guy who is staying at my neighbor’s apartment. Don’t get any ideas — he’s in his 60s and probably gay. 🙂 But his health was frail and he was just downsized from his job, so my neighbor who lives in New York for most of the year (who just had a heart attack and is stuck there for now) let him stay at the Florida condo for a week and hired him to do some work around the house. (What a nice guy.)

And I realized, as I often do, that wishing away this time … waiting for better times … doesn’t necessarily result in better times. Time gets shorter, health gets more-fragile, opportunities don’t come around as much as they used to.

I can’t fix people. And if I can’t fix myself, then I need to enjoy this adventure a little more because the merry-go-round is spinning faster and I don’t have it in me to jump on if it throws me off again.

Something big has to happen. I hear of some new projects coming about. I really, really want to be a part of them. I just hope that when the ride slows down, I can easily hop onto the next one without falling in between them and busting my kneecaps.

Moreover, I hope it’s not like last time when I gave my heart and my ideas and got thrown off without the ride even losing momentum.

Trust is the trickiest currency of all.

John had the best FB status update today:

“Today, I found a penny. It reminded me of you. Worthless, and it’s been in EVERYONE’S pants.”

Can’t say it reminded me of (m)any of my exes. But it sure reminded me of Little Whore on the Prairie.

Yet even though I borrowed the status update, it killed me but I refrained from doing a long-distance dedication to a red state. Because, as I decided long ago, the biggest whore on earth has it all. Million-dollar house, Stepford family (my god, the kids look just like her and they’re all fucking dead behind the eyes), hot guy who actually thinks her useless ass is worth something. Like I can blame her, really.

I find it cute that he thinks waiting for her ugly ass is aspiring to something. Aspiring to nothing, maybe. Ergo, I need to stop giving her my energy because she’s got QUITE enough coming from this land.

I tend to gravitate toward pity for the boy from my LONG ago past. Because if that’s his definition of perfection — and that’s somehow more-desirable than me — he’s clearly got self-esteem or mental issues.

And considering my own very low tolerance for, well, everybody, what makes me have that soft spot in my hardened little heart? Sympathy? That if he’d just see the light, he’d see that he’s worth so much more? That if someone showed him love and kindness, he’d raise his standards?

Well, we see how well THAT worked out.

I was thinking — if I were someone who were friends with, or was otherwise a casual observer of, myself — what would I think of me?

Pity comes to mind. Disappointment. Befuddlement. Like, where’s the Goddess we know and love?

I mean, yes, this Goddess has a big heart and loves everyone who needs love, even and especially if they don’t feel worthy of embracing it. But damn, girl. On the surface, yes, I’m lukewarm at best. Distance really does make the boys’ hearts grow fonder. But inside? Boiling cauldron of everything that is opposite of sugar and spice and everything nice.

But would I daresay our heroine is aspiring to nothing the way our former perceived hero was and still is?

Not if it would ruin the potential of a “someday, somewhere, if ever the time might be right in another time and place,” I wouldn’t.

Posting this for no other reason than that it moved me. And lately, it takes a mountain to move me, so there you have it.

“I was trying to make you see me
Like the way you did before
So I took off my clothes and I opened a bottle
And told you I’d do whatever you wanted
Naked on the floor, crying I’m too beautiful
Oh my poor, poor, pauvre coeur
Beats no more.”

— Jillette Johnson, “Pauvre Coeur”

Mercury is retrograding. Which, for a Gemini, is like pulling the Tower card in tarot. In other words, shit’s getting real.

Problem is, you don’t know WHAT is going to change, but it’s going to be big when it happens. Somebody hold my earrings!

Apparently my house of relationships is affected. Which, if the love of my life is hovering around somewhere, he will present himself.

God willing and the creek don’t rise.

All my astroscopes keep telling me that someone from the past is hanging around and maybe things will get resolved. But all the instructions I’m reading about handling retrograde as a child of Mercury is to NOT say everything that is on my mind because it’s going to be misinterpreted.

Um, have you MET me? When I decide to be clear, I am QUITE clear. Which is why I’m letting the person from the past hang around and enjoy my sparkling wit instead of me hauling off and saying EVERY DAMN THING that pops into my head. Because, I don’t want to sugarcoat it when it comes out.

Of course, that’s when he will realize what an asshole I can be. I can be classy and sweet and nice 97% of the time. But when it comes to matters of the heart, I LOSE it.

Evidence: this blog. 🙂

And I keep reminding myself to rise above … to say what I need to say either in riddles or in soft tones and polished words that don’t wound as much as I might possibly want them to. Because when he comes back around (and they all do, let’s face it), I want to be able to know that I was a class act. Even and especially when I felt like being EVERYTHING but.

My 2 cents on the whole thing: I think he loved me. More than he expected to. And it scared the hell out of him.

I always thought I wanted him more. But I can’t shake the wonder if that weren’t the other way around.

I guess we will see what Mercury has to say about it before it turns direct again, eh?

It’s amazing how you can spend time with someone … and it’s just so easy. Everything just seems to fall into place.

And yet, it’s just so damn hard otherwise and you just don’t understand it.

You say mostly the right things. (Because, really, you never know what’s going to either scare or not sit right with someone. But if you walk away feeling OK, then you did OK and the rest is HIS problem.)

You hug him goodbye and wonder if the fire you unexpectedly feel (again) inside is just the synapses in your body waking up after being shot dead so long ago. Or whether the heat was from his skin (most likely) or maybe you’re picking up on something inside of him he pretends isn’t still there.

And then you’re messed up all over again.

That is, until you remind yourself that life will unfold the way it will. That you really have no control over anything but your own thoughts and actions. That if he wants you, he knows where to find you.

You can’t allow yourself to die all over again in the meantime. After all, it’s his loss. He let go first.

“Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
Cos love comes slow and it goes so fast

Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
Cos you loved her too much and you dived too deep

Well you only need the light when its burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go.”

“Let Her Go” — Passenger

And maybe someday you’ll understand why he let you go.

But for now, you just can’t ask because there’s no answer he can give you that’s good enough …

Especially if you don’t think HE THINKS he made the right decision. …