Caterwauling

So a potential hot date turned into a “not” date on Friday. After all, when you know you can’t show up for an event that starts at 6 p.m. even if it’s only five miles away, you tend not to commit yourself to anything.

Alas, this time I could have made it late but I hit a massive snag in the final process of the day. But I called someone from another team at home and everything got fixed.

The person I was supposed to meet said he was proud of me, that I check everything and feel so strongly about getting things right (and could have made it someone else’s problem if I chose to overlook it) that I bugged someone else to help me get it right.

Someone who was happy to help me. Who has saved my ass on multiple occasions. Who truly deserves a medal and has earned my respect in a tremendous way.

I always find amazing people in my life. Everybody important to me came to me through one job or another. Mostly as friends but the occasional date or even relationship-type-thing.

Speaking of dates, there’s this other guy I’ve been talking to online. In his latest message, he asked what I want in a man.

He hasn’t responded to my reply. It’s been DAYS. lol

Mom said something to me today, that I’ve waited a lifetime for love and I’d better never even dream of settling for anything less than what I want.

I won’t.

Here’s the short version of what I told Online Guy:

Just having someone who can take the reins every once in a while — someone who says, “Hey, I’ll take this from here,” whether it’s doing the driving or bringing me a bottle (forget the glass) of wine or basically just knowing when I need something even when I might not realize I need it — that’s the dream.

I didn’t want to scare him away with my full list. But he’s from Europe and just moved to the Lauderdale area. Which knocks off two of my “must haves” right there — worldliness and accessibility.

Seems sweet enough, too. Not in a “could turn out to be a serial killer” kind of way, but who knows. And frankly, my retirement plan involves suicide, so would it REALLY be so bad to be put out of my misery in my prime?

This was a big deal for me. Normally I come up with something clever and cute that I live to serve, whether it’s a job interview or a date interview. But you know what? I’ve held it together for too many decades. I’m running out of time, patience, energy and drive. I need someone who lights that fire, and who can diffuse me when I get fired up by the wrong people for the wrong reasons.

I want the guy who takes me out of my routine. Who gives me a reason to be late for work. Reasons to leave on time without feeling guilty because there’s a pile of work that still hasn’t been tackled. Motivation to go to industry conferences (even if on my own dime. Sigh). A kick in the ass to find the energy to update my core competencies. Inspiration to put more healthy stuff in my mouth and maybe even break a sweat (and not just after walking up stairs after a cigarette). To go to church. To put on a cute nautical outfit and step out on a speedboat and sail far away from here … so that I really do get the distance I need to regenerate my energy, enthusiasm, interest and ideas.

I have always said that the million-dollar idea could be found at any level of the company. I think it’s within me. I really do. But I’ve got my foot stuck in the hamster wheel and I’m just spinning around and around and around and when I stop I’ll probably be in a damn coma because the motion sickness has become as much a character in my story as the cast of human characters.

So, what do I want in a man? What I want from everyone — adoration, respect, love, space when I need it, wine at every opportunity, freedom, closeness, ability to grow, encouragement to be my best because something’s in it for me and not just them, making sure something’s in it for me, something good to look at, someone who worships the sinkhole I walk on and, as Mom said, “someone who eats a mean pussy. Don’t forget that!”

The rest isn’t really so important when you’ve got all that.

You know what’s fun? Leaving the office at 9, being on the freeway at 9:30 and a big honkin’ piece of … what, ceiling tile, floor tile, a square of something? … comes hurtling toward you and HITS YOUR CAR.

I didn’t see any damage. Of course, when you’re getting out of your car at 9:45 and there are no lights in your parking lot, that isn’t much of a surprise.

I had my glass o’ wine like I often do (sometimes it’s a shot of rum) and passed out shortly thereafter. That’s the good thing about me … I’m not an expensive drunk. And I really don’t need the liquor but it certainly helps.

I don’t know whether it was the Oyster Bay pinot or what, but I dreamed about Whorothy.

And … I didn’t hate her.

Don’t get me wrong; she was actually telling me some negative things about TG and said she wasn’t that into him.

In the dream she remarked to me, “Oh you’re feminine,” and I’m all, “Huh?” And she said from her stalking of me (heh) that I came across as all business, no bullshit — tough like a man’s supposed to be.

Hm. I know I try to write like a man by keeping things simple, but I think she was also fishing for some girl-on-girl action. Heh. Never in a million years … with her anyway. 🙂

Anyway, it got me to thinking about one of many bosses who loved to preach loyalty. In a non-specific way, of course, so it made you wonder whether they heard you sent your resume somewhere else or someone reported back a moment or three when you blew off steam because it was all you could do.

What nobody gets is that blowing off steam IS loyalty because grabbing the car keys and never looking back is the alternative — it’s calming down, staying and being eager to fight another day that’s loyal.

And if the issue was ever something bigger, well, nobody ever told me about it and I refused to think too hard about it because I’ve had others play the paranoia game with me and there isn’t enough pay in the world to make that a productive time pursuit.

It all got me to thinking about TG, about how his most-loyal (one would hope) person would tell me all kinds of crazy shit like she was waiting her whole life to do so. How she swore me to secrecy.

I don’t do that in my steam-blowing, by the way. If I say it, I say it. But what I would like is that if people feel the need to repeat shit, to do so with a high level of accuracy.

Someone said to me twice last week, “Oh, yeah, like you said …” And I’m like, well that was very clever, yes, but NO those were not my words and, in one case, not even my sentiment.

Anyway, I was saddened that Whorothy was so disloyal to TG with me, because what is she telling her friends?

And now I realize, hmmm, I imagine anyone with a brain would think I’m disloyal to him with this blog. Yet not only have I never felt so deeply about someone, but I like to feel like I have more loyalty to him than she ever could.

The blog is the steam-blower for me — where I make sense of all the weird little misshapen pieces that don’t even belong to the same puzzle. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he read a single word of this page and decided never to talk to me again.

It would kill me. But I’d get it.

Anyway, loyalty. I’ve heard the word enough in my life to make me twitch at the very sound of it. In the end, it’s being there and that’s that. How you get there is a different path for/with everyone. The only truly important factor is feeling like it’s worth hanging in there till the end, because we’ve all been loyal to someone or something and still got burned.

Either way, I did and do my best, by everyone and everything. And if they’re not hearing me, as I mentioned in the last post, I have to figure out how to make that happen … or at least rationalize it to death so that I don’t carry around these concerns/problems/grudges/injustices, perceived or otherwise, for absolute ever.

A friend said to me the other day, very wisely:

“You do realize you are KILLING YOURSELF to essentially spend half your take-home pay on rent, yes?”

Well, when you put it THAT way, no wonder I’m stressed!

I got to thinking about my time at the Crack Den. I never understood why the co-founders put up with all the shit they did, for as long as they did. But I realize now that they had partnership deals. That is, there would be a financial payoff for the terror and torture. Golden handcuffs, if you will.

I’m back at a startup now, and I was thinking, I work just as hard as someone who would be in line for an ownership stake. Harder, when you think about it. Because that’s just me.

I’m wondering how I can get an ownership stake. Either that or ease up on the pressure and go make time for hobbies and simple pleasures.

I’m willing to work my ass off to get rich. But I haven’t ever seen the get-rich part and I’m beginning to think I never will. So maybe it’s time to think about less stress, more pleasure instead of more stress, more money (someday) as my plan.

Every once in a while, I post about where I’ve gone wrong in life. Which, considering that I’ve gone wrong in every aspect, these have been frequent posts.

Here’s another one.

The good friend I mentioned yesterday texted me some golden advice. And it kills me how smart he is and how NOT in power anywhere he is. Meanwhile people who (insert great insult that I’m too much of a lady to type) are seeing all kinds of fortune and favor in life.

Baffling, really.

Anyway, the advice I’ll keep to myself. But it leads me to two key things I consistently do wrong:

1. Looking out too much for others. I had my ass handed to me by a Boob Twin because I saw good hires being treated poorly, and I would do what I could to mentor them if I saw they were worth saving. (Or at least make a good effort to get them engaged before firing or recommending their termination.)

I did this because some really amazing people treated me incredibly and helped me both professionally and personally. People who didn’t need to go “above and beyond” but who did anyway. I felt it was the right thing to do to help people to their next level. It was just ridiculous that it ended up being at my expense.

2. Aligning with the “wrong” people. This is an offshoot of the first one. Boob Twin 1 saw me as being AGAINST her when I was really trying to help HER employees become more productive. Isn’t that better than firing someone, then going through the hiring/training process, and dealing with the terminated employee’s unemployment? I mean, if you saw something special in them, it’s in your best interest to bring it out of them.

Of course, I also admit to picking friends here and there and confiding in them. It keeps me sane. It also bites me square in my pudgy pork roast ass sometimes. Sometimes I use it to build trust, other times I use it as a tool in …

3. Making myself heard. Ergo why I got tossed out of the Veggie Patch after hundreds of vitriolic blogs. I thought they were funny and really, they were a creative outlet for my annoyance.

The blog has toned down in recent years but after a few really good years here and there in my life, the crazies are back full-force and I just want someone, anyone to not only hear them but to DO SOMETHING ABOUT THEM.

This blog is as public as it gets. But I know my Facebook messages can get a little terse sometimes and I forget that I have friends everywhere who not only read it, but READ INTO it.

That, and I just say what I think in person. All the time. I mean, I do use the filter, believe it or not. And I don’t say anything I wouldn’t repeat, even if sheepishly, if anyone called me out on it.

I don’t know. I guess it goes back to if someone just knew what was bugging me, they’d do something about it. If the people who CAN do something about it, don’t, that’s when I really start to find ways to overshare and often with the wrong audiences.

So, now that I know what’s wrong with me … what keeps me in the same goddamned place in life no matter how much I scrape and claw and move around and try and try and try again … what am I gonna do to fix it?

*looks around for help*

And so, the cycle repeats itself.

I thought I was getting fired today, but really I just got more work. Rather, more steps in my processes.

I got to thinking about my good friend who got laid off in January. I was much calmer when he was here. Granted things were very different pre-January. But still.

Maybe I just wanted to be seen as cool and calm and gracious and charming and all that bullshit. But really, having lunch with him as close to daily as I could really had a soothing effect on me.

Now I scarf down pretty much everything but the TV at my desk and totally raid the chocolate supply I find in my friend’s office down the hall. Dinner, yo.

We still talk often. But it’s not the same. And if ever there were a time I could use a calming influence, it’s now. I suppose a well-timed text conversation, with the only person who understands AND the only one who won’t repeat a word I say, will have to do.

*Disclaimer: I don’t have kids and don’t see any in the immediate future. This is purely conjecture meant to make myself feel better.

I found myself yesterday at the final street fair of the winter, the last gasp of “snowbird” season. It’s the biggest and best in my humble opinion. It’s also special to me because it was going on when I moved down here four years ago. So, yay me — four years in Florida and I hope many more.

Anyway, you don’t see a lot of kids down here. If you see a stroller, there’s usually a dog or two in it. If they aren’t in a purse. And the few that ARE on leashes are in dresses with tiny anchors or ladybugs or sunflowers on them.

It’s appalling. And yet, I seriously want a just-above-teacup-sized pup that I can put into obnoxiously adorable outfits.

Anyway, the rare kid I saw (parked in strollers outside the over-21 area where people like me were gulping our salvation) pretty much had a vocabulary of two words: No or OK.

And I realize, that’s kind of my world too. But it’s time to reverse it.

I’ve spent a lifetime saying yes to every work request. But when it comes to personal relationships, save for the whole TG saga and maybe a few others that didn’t invade my soul quite so terribly, I tend to say no. No time, no energy, no effort, no way I can fit that in because other things take priority.

Time to reverse it.

Time to say YES to dates and flirts and texts and calls. Yes even more often to friends! Within reason of course — I’m still pretty fucking tired and, judging by the amount of money I spend at Total Wine, drunk. But more NOs to everyone who gets a wild hair.

Sure, little kids who say no end up getting cajoled or forced into doing what doesn’t appeal to them. But for that glorious moment of FEELING in control, I’d sell my soul.

There’s a stupendous deal at Disney right now for Florida residents. $129 for a four-day pass.

I just paid $97, I think, to drink my way through Epcot for one day. Before the alcohol, of course. Consider THAT price to be doubled. 😉

But when will I get four days off without quitting or being fired?

Hmm. …

I find myself waxing poetic about Ye Olde Workplace Establishment. To anyone who will listen, really. Often.

And hell, yesterday I found myself missing the Boob Twins and the Crack Den. Not in the sense that I’d want to go back. More along the lines of, wow did those places suck but I thought my days of wanting to die ended when I left.

Speaking of wanting to die, I spent the whole day Friday with a migraine and a stomachache. Which masked the anxiety nicely till the stomachache went away. Four Advil and three Klonopin later, I OWNED THAT SHIT. As usual. Even near death, I rock.

Meanwhile Evil Landlady II is just as bad as the first. We’re arguing over everything — the rent increase (which I REFUSE to pay), the problems at this Brokedown Palace (which she REFUSES to believe), her new war on my hair product (God forbid we fix the sparking plugs or the washer that makes the house smell like dry-roasted ass; the paint I use to cover up my hair problem dirtied up the top of the bathroom door and I MUST BE EVICTED FOR IT.)

Oh what else, the cars still suck. One needs brakes and the serpentine belt (and six other things) are about to go on the one I do drive.

And don’t ask about Mom. Hate to say, she’s stressing me out THE LEAST.

God, I know so many people have it worse. But why oh why does my life never actually change for the better as I get older?

I can’t shake the feeling that Hagar the Whore-ible was in town recently.

I used to feel sorry that the good guy thought that mess was all he deserved.

After all, I date very classy men, who like to have fun, classy broads like me on their arm.

Men typically don’t settle the way women often do.

Puzzling, really.

And so it makes one wonder if everyone gets exactly what they deserve or, at least, whatever they aspire to.

I wanted to send a Faceypages message to one of my dearest friends of yestercity. So I typed her name into the search box and was shocked to see Whorothy (who I’m not even friends with!) pop up in the list before my friend with the same name.

Heh. Somebunny must have done a lot of stalking in her day!

*hangs head shamefully*

I was drawn to do a quick stalk. For old times’ sake.

Funny when you go dead inside, the snark doesn’t come as easily as it used to. I mean, the best I can say is that when you’re that old, you really should think twice about posting drunk photos. I almost messaged HER to say, “Oh honey, if you want to keep a classy guy or build some semblance of a new career, think a little.”

Of course, I reverted to self for a moment to wonder, “Holy shit, what if that’s NOT a drunk picture?”

And then I thought, wow, I hope nobody thinks I’m drunk in any of MY photos.

*scans photo library fearfully*

Seriously. Hobby. Need one that doesn’t involve Teh Intarwebz.