When you’re sitting at a Melissa Etheridge concert and talking to all the other patrons — who were thrilled and stunned that I’m a “Melissa virgin” (heh) — and realizing you are with your people.
And props to mom, who I dragged to three Lilith Fairs in the late 1990s, who accompanied me here, too.
So far, my vacation started with an hour-long conference call, a pile of emails and an article yet to edit.
But being at home, in my jammies and not having to speak on that conference call? PRICELESS.
I can actually get things done when people think I’m not around. I like it.
I returned my computer.
World is going to end with Trump in charge, I know. Might as well spend all my money now.
But I couldn’t migrate all the shit on my Time Capsule to the new MacBook. Not enough room.
And after crazy Odysseys to the Apple Store and Best Buy, I gave up. Dropped off my old G4 for recycling, the last remnant of the Veggie Patch era. Then offloaded the Mac after a BB salesman tried to get me to part with an extra grand. No thanks.
Oh well. Maybe next year I’ll feel more secure. Doubt it though.
I’ve waited my whole life for a MacBook.
I won’t tell you that I cried. Big wet tears of joy. But you can imagine.
All my friends in DC had MacBooks over a decade ago. They were all younger than me, getting paid better and working fewer hours in many cases. I always felt so inferior.
This day means everything to me.
My plan was to get a new phone. But I got a discount on this and couldn’t resist.
It isn’t a thousand-inch TV. But it’s all I wanted. And that I can get rid of that stupid desk in the photo too? Even more priceless.
Sitting here with two dead computers, two dying phones and a really old car.
And, as usual, panicking over maybe taking advantage of a Black Friday sale to remedy one of the problems.
I think of all the people who tell me to buy a MacBook or a Mercedes like it ain’t no thing. And the ones who fret whether they should buy the tesla or the lambo. And I’m like wow, who has that kind of security?
I keep this affirmation nearby. And it’s served me well, for the most part …
But does our heroine upgrade one lousy thing, or keep telling herself the paid-off stuff really isn’t that bad?
And does she unpack anything at home or at work … or does that mean jinxing the way things are?
Ok. So, I found out today that a lot of my neighbors are really nice.
Not jackass upstairs, who went apeshit at 1:30 am and again at 8:42 am. But mom and I took a walk tonight and people were wishing us a happy thanksgiving out their car windows. And several people stopped to talk.
They must be new here. Or moved by the spirit. But either way, I like it here. And that means the giant meteor is circling.
I am also going to Key West next week. It was six years ago I booked a December trip there and got shitcanned. I’ve already canceled two trips there this year and have that same terror of having history repeating itself.
I got to talking with one of my favorite people in my field. Exchanging ideas and really dreaming big. Both of us really jazzed and energized afterward. And I felt like I’ll be ok.
Not sure what ok looks like. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that being ok is a foregone conclusion when it comes to me. Even if I have to list myself as Mexican to get my ass deported there, so be it.
I was driving merrily along on Braddock Beach Boulevard, with nary a car behind me for miles …
When suddenly a big truck covered in Trump/Pence stickers practically hitches itself to my back bumper.
Meanwhile I have a string of cars in front of me, going nice and slow. But I need to turn right within a half-mile, so I am staying calm and put.
Well, as calm as I could with Crazy behind me. She was purposely gunning it and pretending to nudge around me and GLARING at me in my mirror.
When the turning lane appeared, I hopped over and looked to see her on my left. Pointing at my “Love Trumps Hate” sticker and shooting me the finger.
Classy.
I drive my half-terrified/half-raging ass to Starbucks. Where I meet a wonderful elderly fraud lawyer from Ohio who says business is booming because “There are more scumbags per square foot in Florida than anywhere else.”
You don’t say …
Interesting how I want to burn down the world and then get my faith in it restored within a timespan of 20 minutes.
Well between Nazis invading my beloved Friendship Heights Maggiano’s and my Hillary app bidding me a sad farewell, I’m ready to jump.
I figure Iron Maiden is a nice break from Metallica in my post titles. But given that Vince Neil was invited to play at inauguration, it appears the America the Angry Yam wants to return us to is circa 1983. (The “Theater of Pain” era. How quaint.)
It was in 1984 when I wrote to then-President Reagan to complain that he took away the steelworker jobs in Pittsburgh and my family broke up because of it.
And how all the people I grew up with vote Republican now is BEYOND ME.
Of course, how my candidate won the popular vote by more than 1.7 million and we’re stuck with this Cheeto-colored turd is even more BEYOND ME.
But anyway.
No rage here. None at all.
I forget what I even came here to blog about now.
Also, fuck Trump.
Been gaining and losing the same two pounds for two months.
Could be any number of reasons why.
I eat my losses — live on salads, then binge when I go to sneak just a bite of something sweet.
And I get lazy when people tell me I look good. I mean, I know what they’re saying is I look better than before. But I can rationalize that to mean that I look less horrific now so just don’t get back to that old weight.
Seriously. I live on salads. Boring! Now Mom started baking again and it’s been so long and it may never happen again. So goddamn right, I’m eating that banana bread. All of it! I earned it after all those shitty salads!!!
Lots of change at work too. Moved offices. Which was traumatic in so many ways. I also feel like we should have saved the money because it’s like spending a salary when we could’ve worked from home. And then I lost my ability to work from home. Only me. No one else. Which I have to keep reminding myself at least I have a job. But yeah. Traumatic.
I also don’t walk as much as I did before. Sure I try to park far away most days. But it isn’t that far and I’m back to working late again. And we get some unsavory characters floating around. Just easier/safer to park five feet from the door.
Anyway. Off the rails. My weight is still the lowest it’s been since maybe right Post-college. And it’s ok because I have a lot of cute clothes that work right now.
But I dream of better days and maybe getting treated better in life if I looked better. Sadly, I guess that means wanting to impress the unimpressive. And I have a hard time reconciling that one.
Fat = invisible, and that ain’t always a bad thing. But maybe it’s not time to stand out but rather stand UP.
Maybe ending the journey is the real reward. To start a new one, of course.