Caterwauling

No, I don’t mean I found myself. Christ, Goddess without an existential crisis would be like Santa without a hard-on for elves. Sheesh.

I mean, I wandered into a store today and HOLY SHIT it was Goddess, circa age 22. Pudgy, pretty, hair all done up and makeup was GORGEOUS and dressed cute.

She was bouncy, just like I was. Greeted me and started a conversation. The light in her eyes could have powered Palm Beach County for a year.

I got an instant headache. I mean, where the hell did my sparkle go? Did she get it from me? GIVE IT BACK YOU HAPPY PLUS-SIZE LOVELY GIRL YOU.

I’m always happier when I’m trying to lose weight because there’s some element of being in control of ONE aspect of my life. But … I feel like I was happier when I just didn’t give a shit.

It was when I started noticing my size that it all went to pot. When I dared to think I was FABULOUS, fuck everyone else’s perception, I would actually be just fine.

And even now, I DO think I’m fabulous. I think most people want to be me. I am confident that people would kill to spend a day being me. It would floor me if they didn’t.

But then I was having a sad moment today and I thought, what if they really are sad for me? Or worse, what if they don’t feel bad for me at all but instead they think I am a piteous mess?

It was the fact that I couldn’t argue with the “piteous mess” part — i.e., well, aren’t I? — that killed me inside today.

I say this after I bought yet another party dress for a party that never seems to materialize.

This whole “living as if” shit that Law of Attraction disciples preach kills me. Clear out your closets for when your imaginary significant other materializes and moves in with you. Buy the size you want to be. Make a vision board of what you want your life to look like.

Dress and furnish and dream for the job/man/life you want.

HUMBUG.

Another party dress, another year gone by with nowhere to wear it.

And yes it’s in my current size. I aspire to have a reason to party this year, thanks.

I do have a party to attend tonight (not quite so formal as to suit this dress), but as always Prunella the Houseguest managed to make me feel like shit for having plans. She tells me I’m a martyr when I say fine, I’ll cancel like I always do. (Because I always do and it’s never because I don’t want to go.)

Prunella and Wal-Mart should not be kept apart if it’s one of the rare moments she’s feeling good enough to run errands.

Boundaries, can has?

Tell me how to live “as if” I were alive, and maybe you’ll meet the truly fabulous Young Goddess who really was something special.

I wish you’d all gotten to know her. Maybe you will someday. Maybe I just have to go suck that beautiful soul out of that lovely girl I met today and I’ll get her back …

When you try to throw yourself in front of an oncoming shopping-mall train, you know it’s Christmas. And you’re at a mall. And you’re depressed.

My life isn’t bad. It’s just a colossal disappointment compared to what I had dreamed it would be.

I’m tired of saying, “At least it isn’t worse.” Nay, I want to say, “It’s so good, it couldn’t possibly get any better.”

I found myself starting the downward spiral in my meeting this morning. Which, weight loss yay but I haven’t parked my pudgy butt on a scale since before Thanksgiving, so hell yeah I should have had a nice loss.

I was bummed though because somebody’s been baking all week here. And somebody’s been consuming it without concern. And said someone who can’t stop eating could have had not only a nicer loss but also could have hit her 10% goal. But lo, brownies prevailed.

My leader always says try not to binge-eat because it’s a holiDAY. It’s not holiWEEK or holiMONTH. You’ll live to see another holiday. It’s OK. Put the pie down, Tubbo Wubbo.

OK so I paraphrased. 😉

What I wanted to say but didn’t, was that you spend the whole year being good. And come Christmas, you loosen up your death grip on your cash and go to places like malls that you avoid the other 11 months of the year.

You see people and go places and eat things that don’t cross your path normally. You see LIMITED EDITION everything and, lo, you must eat ALL THE LIMITED EDITION THINGS.

Because, you’ve been good all year. You deserve it. And no, Meeting Leader, you might not see your next holiday. Well, you personally probably will, but for the rest of us in a multiyear crisis of faith it’s hard to think past the next credit card billing cycle, for various reasons.

I’ve got my mind on my money and my money on my mind. That, and my freedom. Which, again, I have to be happy for what I have, right?

So maybe I want to enjoy these days. And all the sights and sounds and tastes they offer. Because if we’re sentenced to a lifetime of avoiding the little things that make us happy, especially in absence of bigger things to make us happy, well who the hell wants to live THAT life, anyway?

“Why you waiting, so sick and fuckin’ tired of waiting
I don’t wanna see nothing, just curl up and die.”

— Holly McNarland, “After I’m Gone”

Interesting day. Had the chance to go to lunch (in civilization!) with someone special. It was nice. Wish I could do that sort of thing more often.

It was supposed to be a dinner date but something came up and he asked if we could do drinks around five. Which, please. Seven is the earliest I see the light of night. Deadlines and all. But I was able to sneak out midday.

I felt alive for a moment. Like, maybe I’m not completely imprisoned to this existence.

I feel like I died about a decade ago, after I forfeited a trip to see my BFF in Oregon because I was literally working around the clock. Like, I lost airfare, man. Fuck that shit.

Shortly afterward, my grandfather died and mom moved in. And my life mostly ceased to be my own ever since.

The only reason I didn’t leave the job is because it was there for me in my time of need. Even when Psycho tried to use that opportunity to get me fired, they not only kept me but my people took care of me. And let’s face it, being a workaholic got me out of the house, which I needed at the time.

I guess now I’m the undead. Every once in a while the corpse gets warmed up and shown there’s more to life than going from graveyard to graveyard.

I got to thinking about Pittsburgh, how I used to go to the Point, where the three rivers met, for inspiration. You would always find me with a diary there, dreaming.

I don’t dream anymore. I wonder if I’ll ever get the ability back.

“Are you listening, no you’re never listening
I just wanna feel something, I just don’t feel alive.”

Please forgive the pity party. My heart should be lighter than usual. But that’s usually when it hurts the most, when I get that glimmer of hope … the one that the universe has a funny way of taking away when I start to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, the next dream will come true if only I dare to entertain it.

That is, if I remember how …

I don’t mind working hard or long hours. I figure, it’s keeping me occupied till I figure out what it is I’m supposed to do for joy in this life. And maybe I do derive some joy from Making Shit Happen.

(Today? We MADE SHIT HAPPEN. It’s a good day, Tater.)

There’s this new Albatross Project on my plate and yes my plate is full. I was handed off from an external company’s owner to some nitwit he hired. Nitwit totally turned me against this project even though I WANTED this project to work. It is a PITA now but will be useful.

So basically we hit a crossroads and I got back up to the owner again. Who called a meeting with me. Which, hooray. Now he says he’s stepping out and I’m back in Nitwit’s hands.

AAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Seriously. NOT HAPPY.

Will try to focus instead on the cute boy honking and waving at me on the highway today. Otherwise WILL MELT DOWN.

I was standing next to a grandfatherly guy at Tarzhay today when his phone rang.

He exclaimed joyfully, hung up, turned to his friend and said, “We have to GO! Her water broke! We’re gonna have a BABY!”

I burst into tears and wandered away.

Happy tears, for the baby, to have that guy for a grandpa.

Happy tears, for his daughter, to have probably everything she ever wanted.

And maybe a bitter tear in there, for good measure, that the only joyful life events I am ever a part of are the ones I overhear or otherwise witness from afar.

I tried not to wonder when something wonderful is going to happen for me, too, or whether I’m destined to just be happy for everyone else for the rest of my life.

I keep wondering whether I have plans tomorrow night. Keep wondering if I should confirm or just not say anything.

I always do the “just not say anything.” And I find myself alone a lot for that.

I guess I just have a genetic defect that stops me from showing I care and WANT to hang out and spend time with people.

Well, let it be said. I do care. I care very much. I just have a hell of a time showing it because too many people have enjoyed making me sad. So, sad doesn’t exist anymore.

Disappointment, however, never really goes away.

Best moment of yesterday:

My boy: “Whatever they pay you here, it just isn’t enough.”
Me: “It’s fine. And they pay me in love to make up for the rest.”
My boy: “They should pay you in bullion. That’s way more useful.”

Second-best moment of yesterday:

Friend: “Are you allergic to texting people back?”
Me: “I hate small talk and try not to engage in it, so yes.”
Friend: “I wasn’t asking you about the meaning of life. I was just saying hello.”
Me: “The meaning of life isn’t all that interesting either. It’s ‘to die.'”
Friend: “Well, what do you do before then?”
Me: “Pray for death?”

Some old friends are in town for some big event on the other side of the company.

My boys. They are all “my boys.” It’s always me and the men who come to depend on me.

And it’s nice that even though there’s now a “fault line” (in many ways) between our departments, they all reach out across it to hug me tightly.

And I love how they see me and light up and shower me with love and affection and compliments and worship. God I miss some of these guys.

My guys haven’t been as worshipful as they should be. And let’s face it, maybe I haven’t really cared enough to actively seek it out like I once did. I’m just trying to pace myself since Goddess doesn’t spring back into shape and health and spirit like she used to.

It’s just nice to be treated awesomely right now with no effort, although let’s face it … I killed myself to earn it, and they all know it. And that’s why this reunion is so sweet — they’ve lived without me for a year now and they miss our good old days.

And if that isn’t a blessing to count over and over (and over) again, frankly I don’t know what is.

Last entry didn’t quite squeeze out all my rage. Which manifested in getting the World’s Biggest Traffic Ticket the next morning.

I totally got set up and that’s exactly what I told the cop. Fuckers paid some jagoff in a BMW to drive 10 mph down A1A. I followed this fuckhead for 5.5 miles (oh yes I clocked it) before the Mercedes in front of me passed him in a no-passing zone in a known cop trap.

I had three hours’ worth of driving ahead of me, including a mom and a cat in the car whom I had already threatened with ejection if they violated the Quiet Game. And lo, though I knew better, after the Mercedes passed the BMW, I followed.

*siren*

Fat Fuck Copper Man says to me, “Boy did YOU pick the wrong place to do that.” I said, “Well maybe if you pulled over the MERCEDES with the Jersey plate, I wouldn’t think this was a big old setup.”

(Cops in my area are known to leave alone the Lambos, the Lexii, the Bentleys and the high-priced cars/drivers. They only pull over people in jalopies. Which, DAMN IT.)

His eyes widened. Clearly he didn’t expect a smart driver. Or a smartass. Also …

*cue the tripling of the ticket price*

Like the escape to the eastern coast of the state wasn’t expensive enough without the ticket.

See, I get pulled over on holidays. I know I did something wrong and I’m willing to pay up for that. But don’t act like you weren’t out to get your quota … don’t act like you weren’t trying to find an innocent citizen who’s frazzled and just trying to make it to her destination to enjoy some food and happy times.

Most of all, don’t PRETEND that I didn’t see the BMW driver full-on stop and look over at you for a nod of approval. Seriously, it was either pass this simpleton or cause about three grand worth of damage to my front end for RAMMING YOU INTO THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.

Let’s call it a holiday discount, when you look at it that way!

You know, everyone’s got a lot on their mind. Everyone’s THISCLOSE to their breaking point at every day of every year. I know others have it worse and I know others have it better. It’s just the Unfairness of it All that ate up a big chunk of my holiday.

Other than that, the vacation was fine. Especially when I found a specialty wine store and bought eight bottles.

All told, I ate too much, drank too much, spent too much and didn’t check enough off my to-do list. But I avoided Black Friday like the Black Plague and consumed vast amounts of coconut-blackberry wine slushes on the beach and deep-fried pickles and catfish.

Didn’t get an ounce of sun and mostly froze my ass off thanks to this southern cold snap.

But, you know. Two paid days off and a weekend in Fort Myers/Sanibel/Captiva/Bonita Beach/Lovers Key equals “I can tone down my road rage until year-end when I fly north to see my friend R and our Uncle B.”

Yep, all my money went to cars and travel this month. I haven’t paid rent and I hope these assholes can wait till my Thursday paycheck, because I actually spent this paycheck recovering from the past year.

Now that’s a Thanksgiving I can get behind. And for that, I am so very deeply grateful.