Caterwauling

I published my New Year’s resolutions on Facebook awhile back. And I’m … yeah. About that. Not so much.

But I have a few I didn’t write down. And, well, about those.

I didn’t write them down because I didn’t think of them till recently. There are only two so far:

1. Wear yoga pants for more than just sleeping and working from home.

2. Must. Control. Rage. Am calm, cool, collected goddess. Must always behave as one.

Perfect example today. I was at Wal-Mart, on foot, when an older couple stopped to ask me directions. I was able to help them easily.

They asked me one more question, which I was about to answer when the assholes in the car behind them, another older couple, started blowing the horn and showing me the Italian “fuck you” hand gestures.

I looked over and said, “For real? FOR REAL?”

They really started gesticulating and telling me to stop TALKING TALKING TALKING.

Oh HELL no.

I double-barrel saluted.

They did it back. Both of them. Yelling all the while.

Class acts, all of us.

I answered the nice folks’ question and said good luck and please be careful — we have crazy people here! They laughed and were on their way.

I took a photo of the assholes’ license plate, as they tried to run over my foot instead of letting me cross the street safely.

When I left, I felt terrible that the classy people had seen me lose my shit for a second there.

I’ve been doing that a lot lately. And by lately, I mean since about June 2001.

I REALLY need to shut the hell up. It is Florida, after all. Where people pull out a gun and shoot you dead for playing your music too loud … for being a teenager in a neighborhood with George Zimmerman in it … for texting your babysitter in a movie theater … and so on.

We also let the murderers skip away scot-free every time.

Mom always tells me to shut it when I’m in traffic or otherwise set off — that people are crazy and looking for a fight.

Truth is, *I* feel like I’m looking for a fight sometimes. Like, oh yeah, you wanna go crazy? LET ME OUT-CRAZY YOU. Dare me. Just … dare me.

Of course, I’m unarmed and plan to keep it that way. So, I need to go to meditation class more often and chill the fuck out.

I guess the older I get, the less tolerance I have. I love people. Honest I do. But for every kind soul, I seem to encounter 30 who should have been swallowed. And when they ruin my good moment, I feel the need to TELL THEM SO.

Alas, I want to be the girl who nods coolly … who keeps a bemused smile about her lips … who looks more-saintly with every inch off the deep end other people throw themselves.

At least today I didn’t out-crazy anyone. But I certainly didn’t out-class anyone, either. And that’s what bothers me the most.

Maybe this explains all my failures with men. I am *me* at all times. I swear and make sexy jokes and dominate every conversation. I don’t know how to dial back the evil twin. I really don’t.

I met the nicest guy recently and I am convinced I scared the hell out of him by just being me. I said that the next day, too — I was worried I had corrupted him.

I tried to say I’m not as “interesting” as I can convey, but I don’t think he bought it. Yes, I can be all talk sometimes. But there’s an awful lot of world experience behind all that talk, too, so it’s a fine line I haven’t quite managed to do anything but straddle. (heh)

I want to be a lady. I want to be the light in the room. I want to out-class everyone and make everyone wish that either they *were* me or that they were the one taking me home.

I guess I’ve been walked on, bullied, overlooked, neglected and otherwise been put into the position of psychological pawn enough times. I don’t take anybody’s shit anymore. If you need schooled, then sit your ass down because I’m going to educate it.

And … that’s an exhausting way to live. I think I’d rather graciously lose a few more battles than get shot at Wal-Mart for being sassy for being interrupted while I’m trying to do a good deed.

Proving once again that while no good deed goes unpunished, that won’t stop me from doing them. Next time I won’t let a moment of weakness cancel out the “good” part of it.

And that’s a resolution worth writing down, remembering, and practicing for all of my days …

3. Keep the “good” in all my good deeds.

Best Valentine’s Day ever.

Now, those of you in the loop were aware that I had plans. Plans that I was suspicious of, at best, and scared of, at worst.

Yet for all the whining I do about my job, it saved me. And this came a day after I got a bonus.

I’d say, I totally won this week.

Fridays are always nuts with weekend setups. Then the company is closed Monday, so I had to work yet another day ahead on projects that require other personnel who AREN’T going to work during the weekend like I sometimes do.

And then my sidekick had a family emergency.

A trifecta that meant I didn’t even get to shower, let alone brush my teeth and leave the house in the morning, and which kept me at my laptop well into the dimming of the day.

I told you Mother Nature finds ways to intervene when I say yes.

Thank you, Mother Nature.

I did hear from him around the end of his workday just to ask where I was. I said I was at home. Swamped. Crazy day.

I could tell he was annoyed. I’m not sure WHAT the plans were supposed to be, but I guarantee they were to be north of where I live.

By the fact that I didn’t drive to West Bumfuck, I was probably twice as far away from whatever the meeting place was to actually get there at a reasonable hour.

Now, a small part of me was thinking, I should make the effort. It’s not like I want to spend V-Day alone. I wouldn’t mind being among the living for a change.

But … the feeling that I got in the pit of my stomach when he texted wasn’t one of wild anticipation.

And wild anticipation is a big deal to me. Even if it’s just a friend, I don’t hold my breath and wait to read the text till I’m good and ready.

But the conversation ended there and I finished my work and I took my momma to the full-moon party and bonfire down the block.

I know I have to face him eventually. He’ll stew for three days and then resurface. I know the routine. He’ll ask what I ended up doing Friday. He’ll ask what else is new. He’ll suggest we should get together some other time.

And somewhere in there, he’ll pepper in a comment about me. That I should answer my phone. That I should be courteous and return a call sometime. That I “should” (insert whatever I “should” do).

I almost texted Jupiter to say happy V.D. Mom did, actually. They talk more than I do. He’s hiding in his little turtle shell. I was just thinking of Jupiter for the fact that he managed to dodge every major holiday, birthday, milestone or, fuck, weekend during the time we were whatever we weren’t.

Only once did I really confront Jupiter about his actions (or lack thereof) toward me. I said, “Can you honestly tell me that you don’t enjoy my company or make you feel good about yourself or bring some laughter and light into your life?” He nodded yes, his eyes never leaving mine.

Well, that told me.

Even if it was total horseshit.

I’ve tried the, “It’s not you; it’s me.” I’ve tried the, “I’m busy.” I’ve tried the, “Sure, let’s get a group together — oh wait, everyone else canceled? Maybe I will too.” And I’ve most often done the, “Oops, busy. Because, work.” And I have also used the, “Well, Mom wants …”

The thing with my intuition development, I just don’t feel right here. Even as friends. I spy with my third eye someone with a terrible ex who might take it out on the next.

And before I start to feel too bad, I realize the universe is just showing me how Jupiter might have felt. To give me the perspective he couldn’t.

But a psychic both Jupiter and I love posted something this morning that I can’t get out of my head.

His message said: “Allow yourself to be open to love, and to believe in the love that you see in your fantasy. It does exist — just don’t give your heart away too soon!”

I used to bug Jupiter, why can’t we just hang out as friends (since I was turned off toward him romantically) till we find something better? Why not have companionship while we kill time on this earth? And he could never answer me straight.

I see why now.

No muss, no fuss.

And he’s allowed me to keep my heart till I can get a return on my investment in the right security.

And boy, am I glad for that.

I might have done a bad thing today.

Because of someone delaying something at work for six months, it contributed to me losing my vacation.

So today I was in HR because my bonus got screwed up (they gave me too much and I had to write them a check. Even though I said, hey, can we consider it payment for that vacation I never got? *cue the Vinny Barbarino “Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah.”) and I mentioned that, oh yeah, one of your buddies was a big reason for why my first vacay day of 2013 was DECEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH.

I was wondering if she might say something to said person. It wasn’t a formal complaint but I wasn’t screwing around, either. Of course, their friendship may be why she is good to me. *Shrug*

Can’t win. Why try?

I had made a joke about the overpaid bonus. I said, “What, are you going to give it to (Boss’ favorite whom I’m convinced gets more money, a better title and a bigger bonus than me)?”

She said no.

So later Boss’ favorite (who I really like too. I see why.) comes over and says, hey, her bonus was underpaid … by the exact amount mine was overpaid.

Fucking psychic vibes. Seriously. I should have just written her the damn check and not the company.

Remember, I know nothing and I’m just trying out my intuition here. I will never know and I don’t want to know. I am just grateful I got *Something* and I would pretty much just die if the perceived inequality were proven actual.

That’s OK. HR encouraged me to stop it with the working nights, weekends and holidays. And I am totally following that advice. I even went out tonight! I have gone out once a week for the past four weeks!

Anyway, I am grateful that I had a good year in 2013. Damn near killed me, but I have a couple bucks to spend at IKEA … or more likely, to spend on healthcare for mom.

My psychic friend said she saw me taking a trip in the first half of this year. She said it was going to become somewhat of a spiritual retreat for me, and I would come back transformed.

The good news is, she said I wouldn’t have to travel far if I didn’t want to. Hmm. IKEA?

“Please take down the misletoe
Cause I don’t wanna think about that right now
Cause everything I want is miles away
In a snow covered little town.”

— Taylor Swift, “Christmases When You Were Mine”

The song title is a misnomer because it would imply that what’s inside a snow-covered little town was actually mine.

But maybe someday.

As for the specific town? Looks like Mother Nature is sending her white fury upon the United States yet again, so I hope all my friends are warm and safe, wherever they are. In all reaches of her wrathful path. And maybe one little corner in particular.

I got to thinking today about one of my boys I’ve talked about from time to time on this page. But for lack of desire to figure out which nickname(s) I did or didn’t use, I’ll call him Jupiter. Because, planets. And proximity.

I mentioned that I have UF on my case, cornering me and chasing me and trying to wear me down. And I see him SO EXCITED that I fell into the trap of going out Friday. (Ugh, I thought it was a normal day.)

And it both annoys the absolute fuck out of me and yet it hurts my heart that I could be so dead toward someone who actually seems to give a shit out about me.

Reminds me of Jupiter. And I want so badly to write a letter to him, pounding my fists against his metaphorical chest, asking him why he was so against me feeling I could mean anything to anyone in this world … yet calling me up several times a week to talk or hang BUT JUST NOT TOO CLOSE OKAY THERE DOE-EYED GIRL?

I do not seek out UF. I mean, he just said I can’t outrun him. Because there’s no hiding when someone is STALKING YOU.

Maybe I haven’t been firm enough with the fuck-off vibe. I would think making out in a bar with someone four months ago and never managing to call or text him back EVER (including on Christmas Day when he left a nice voice message) would send a hint the size of the two holes in my leg yesterday’s skin biopsy left.

Oh, and *sigh* there. Am I really at the age where I can say “biopsy” like it’s a goddamned eyebrow plucking?

I don’t want to hurt this guy. But Jesus Christ dude, stop putting me in a position where that’s what’s going to happen.

And maybe that’s what happened with Jupiter. He invited me out. He wined and dined me. He said and did all the right things that made me think he was trying to win ME over.

Not just any girl. But things that made ME swoon. Because, he asked lots of questions and didn’t forget a thing. I mean, he read my horoscope every day. WHO DOES THAT?

Yet, fine, maybe I fell a little too hard. That the 40-year-old “love” virgin here finally had her emotional cherry popped.

With a sledgehammer.

Fine. I knew when to walk away and knew when to run.

Why doesn’t this one?

And I know, I know. First-world problems. Having someone to love and want you. For a change. A nice change. Yet …

“If you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with” ain’t my gig, man.

I have a mild crush on someone in this world, who is not UF or Jupiter. But God, please oh my loving and wonderful God, don’t turn me into the female equivalent of UF. Help me to let the guy know he has a shot if he wants it, but don’t let me turn into Crazy Town, please?

I just want to tell Jupiter, I think I get it. If he really did want to throw himself under a train at the thought of spending time with me (even if I don’t think that’s ENTIRELY true …), I understand reaching THAT PLACE.

I want him to know I’m in “his” shoes now. And that if I did anything to make his skin crawl off his body, I’m sorry he felt that way toward me.

I think UF thinks he’s going to get a girlfriend out of this. And I want a boyfriend, too. But … I want to be available when the right one comes along.

Nothing wrong with dating, yes. And I’m happy to do that. But … not with someone I’m going to have to hurt.

Maybe that was the thing with Jupiter after all. I think his problems were bigger than having a goddess at his side. I don’t think he could handle the divinity plus whatever was going on in his head/world.

It’s not that we were doomed; it’s that HE doomed it.

And maybe I’m dooming the UF thing. But isn’t that my right, to remember that I’d rather be alone than wish I were and know, here, I’d wish I were alone so why not just avoid stepping in anything that’s going to leave a stain and a funny smell in its aftermath?

There’s this guy who has asked me out anywhere between weekly and monthly for the past two years.

Ugh.

I generally fake my death/make excuses/say yes and pray for natural disasters. And I’ve been pretty lucky because Mother Nature has saved my ass pretty much every time.

So he gets me today and says, “No running from me anymore.”

I say, “Shit.”

Now, clearly he knows I’m not into him. He adds, “You can’t hide.”

“Apparently,” I say.

So he says we should go out Friday. Way too quickly, I say, “OK.” After all, the weather is about to get bad. *Crossing Fingers*

It’s only an hour later when I am complaining about “UF” (my girlfriend’s and my nickname for him. And it ain’t “University of Florida”) when she says, “Dude, you know Friday is Valentine’s Day, right?”

Fuck me up the ass with a chainsaw.

I was thinking, go out with him. Be myself. Drive him away like I do with guys I adore and would actually like to hang out with.

Now that he knows I’m free on V.D., he knows I’m not spoken for. (Never mind that someone else has a loose grip on my heart. Because, well, I save that shit for my written diary that nobody gets to read.)

Someone whose hands I still feel on the small of my back even though I won’t be feeling them this Friday …

Someone who knows this blog exists but hasn’t found it yet. But I hope he’s trying. Because, for some strange reason, I want to tell him absolutely everything and then some because it would please me to no end to make him laugh and make a funny joke about it all …

Funny how UF thinks he can wear me down and make me love him. And it’s not that my heart can’t be gotten. I’m just not willing to give it away unless I’m a thousand percent OK with its new home. For now, it’s happier right in my chest where it belongs.

Remember I said I had to guess what my boss would wear today?

Well, my day went to hell before 6 a.m. and I was stuck in the editing position until about 9-ish … i.e., I didn’t have time to leave the house and do my hideous 45-minute commute. (Darn …)

So my boss called me about something and I said, hey, weird question. What color are you wearing?

And … my prediction was spot-on.

I should have published it here. But I have it in my notebook, dated. So I’m good.

I’d picked blue at first. Mostly because, I’ve seen him in different shades and patterns of blue. Then the still, small voice said green shirt and brown pants. So I wrote green/brown.

I didn’t tell him what I’d written. So when he said green shirt and brown pants, I told him he has a psychic on his staff.

As he said, he owns about 300 blue shirts and 3 green, so the odds were pretty much against him picking what I saw.

So now, this makes me wonder about all those work dreams I have where things are being kept from me. I often dream that he and another colleague are hanging out without telling me.

Which is fine, I guess, because couples do “couple things” and women are generally threatened by single women even when we are looking elsewhere for our kicks. (Like, toward SINGLE MEN.)

But I wonder if this simple color validation confirms the reason why I feel left out in general, and NOT the favorite on other days, which is what always spurs those dreams.

But alas, I don’t believe in playing favorites unless I’m the favorite, so I try to not let it bother me. Because, I love me and that’s all that matters. And bully for everyone else who just isn’t as evolved.

And damn I love this whole “trusting my intuition and it being right” thing. It opens up a scary new world, but it also reveals a power that sets me apart even more.

If I’m right, I’m going to turn out OK after all … And that was what the my psychic reading revealed to me in the end.

My friend gave me some weird messages but in answer to my question, “What steps do I need to take to be fully happy?” she said, “You’re almost there.”

Almost there. Can’t ask for much more than that. And thank you, God, for that.

I always figured I’m an empath, or clairsentient as the psychic circle seems to know it, and I had an opportunity to tap into it yesterday at a class run by a brand-new friend.

Holy hell.

We took turns being the “Sender” and “Receiver” of information. I found that no one could read me. There could be a variety of reasons for that — we are all novices, I have a lot of competing thoughts, and I’m “hearing” what the person 10 feet away is thinking.

But I did really, really well reading others.

One exercise, the sender was to think of a fruit. I looked at the girl and guessed “red grapefruit.” She said, “red grape.” So, not 100% accurate, but pretty damn close, eh?

Another exercise is to picture what color your boss will wear Monday. I wrote it down. Now to make sure to run into him on Monday to find out!

I did my best reading sitting next to a gal instead of sitting opposite her. That’s the empath in me — I don’t need to see their faces to know what’s in their heart.

That’s where my spidey senses begin and end. The heart. I spend too much time in my head and I have to listen with my heart instead of my actual and metaphorical ears. So, that’s my homework — to see with my third eye and quit thinking so much.

I also received a reading from the professional running the class. Which, I’m still processing. I didn’t hear what I wanted, but I got what I needed.

I’ll post more when I make sense of it all. But I will say this. I cleared my mind and was open to any message. And it’s pretty interesting what Spirit had to say …

Every once in a while, your heart gets ahead of itself.

“They” say there’s no easier way to make a decision than to flip a coin. Suddenly you know what your heart wants.

Then there are times when you didn’t even KNOW you wanted something till it dawned on you that you can’t have it. Not right now, anyway. Maybe not ever.

I didn’t know I wanted you. Not till it occurred to me that, once again, what I want seems to be of absolutely no consequence to the universe.

I’m so tired of forcing myself to live without hope to avoid moments like these. Good thing I was smart enough not to bother coming alive this time around. Even though I was planning to figure out how I could.

We had the quarterly company-wide Meeting of Deception, as I like to call it. The one where they allude to X under ideal circumstances and then ideal circumstances DON’T happen, and you kick yourself for having a ray of hope about X.

Usually it’s about bonuses or other stuff that you learn to steel your spine and prepare for the inevitable, “Remember we said IF?”

Well, yesterday brought a pleasant surprise that, yes, there will be a couple extra bucks left over. So, hooray! Deception averted.

But now there’s the “moving offices” thing they’ve been talking about for years. Last meeting, we heard “by June, we will move away from the cows and chickens and alligators and pigs and bring you closer to civilization since EVERYBODY HAS AN HOUR-LONG COMMUTE NOW.”

Now June has morphed into “October.”

My lease is up next month. I haven’t given notice yet. I’ve been looking at apartments about 15 miles south of here. And it’s one thing to commute for 45 miles each way for two months. It’s another to do it for the rest of the year.

Ergo, I’m going to stick with my 30 and the broken-down building … where the maintenance man not only steals my packages, but he’s now stealing air conditioners and refrigerators and selling THOSE off the back of his taco truck.

I guess deception may not be the right word. But I don’t know a better word for the audible crack in one’s heart as another “thing” doesn’t work out the way you dared to hope it might.

Spent the weekend in Orlando. I went to a conference I used to work at every year. Now I drive instead of fly, I stay at offsite hotels instead of at the resort, I wear flip-flops instead of heels but the rest is the same — I show up to talk to customers and presenters and get the reminder that what I do actually matters.

I’ve spent the last year killing myself in a job I like but I don’t always love … doing things that don’t exactly build my resume but do keep the company in business … and sometimes feeling either like the most-special person on earth or else like the cleaning lady while other people seem to get the glory.

Everyone makes fun of me for still giving a crap about this conference. But everyone’s also very interested in what I learned and who I met.

I know the conference neither takes hard work nor offers the debauchery of yesteryear to offset it. But it still means something to me. I walked away with some great knowledge and a really good contact. I also walked away remembering that people really do read every word I write and it matters, what I have to say. (Even if it’s mostly written under others’ names.)

More importantly, I recognized that my talent has always been not just editing, but making connections … putting the right people in touch with each other, being able to sense the quality people/content from the b.s., and basically knowing and doing what’s right for the subscriber.

So right now I’m in a role where I have influence but I don’t make the decisions. And it’s a role I am comfortable in. It’s not a stopping point, by any means, especially not since I was once a decision-maker and I want to be one again.

But, you know. It’s just another reminder that I can either grow where I am, or find someplace else to grow. But whichever I pick (or is picked for me. Gulp.), the fact is, I’m not happy unless I’m growing. And I’m happy to be reminded of when I used to shine, because that’s my ticket to shining again.