I didn’t mean to suggest I skipped a meeting. Just had it later at a time more convenient to the people who attend it. I would give anything to move it or do it daily when it makes sense. But whatever. Hooray for getting out not terribly late after doing my day mostly my way. And for having a phone to my head while editing without any calamities.
Just don’t ask me about that turd who’s hired whom I have to interview. Yes in that order. Was a dick to me by email. This should go well.
When you give up a 20-minute meeting you benefit from to get ahead to compensate for the two-hour meeting you don’t have anything to say during, and when you finally say you’re too busy and someone who never missed a meal/event/date night has to step in to fulfill a problem of their own making instead of you giving up your nights/weekend to figure it out, it’s a good day, Tater.
My date with my 45-year-old-self was prescient. But it wasn’t surprising given the day before.
My to-do list was (is) packed. To the freaking gills.
But I wanted to go to the bonfire that night. They happen every other Friday in winter. The bands usually suck but this time they had a great group I last saw a year ago up in Vero Beach.
My sidekick had the day off. Every time she’s off, I’m stuck there till all hours. I missed the PostSecret event in part because A) too much to do and B) she was out.
(Yes I am still butthurting about that. I’ll get over it after I get over President Shit for Brains.)
In any event, I put “Bonfire” as the seventh item on my to-do list. I did get things done that were on the list after it. But I was determined to go home, grab my Momma, and get us to the beach.
We were late, but we got there.
And so the dream makes sense in that context — no one else was missing their Friday night plans. Why should I?
I made up for it last night, getting done what HAD to get done for this morning. Would have liked to have spent some time calling Little Marco Rubio and asking why the fuck he didn’t stand up to President Snowflake and his Chief Nazi Bannon back when he had the chance. But thank God for the ACLU and the record donations it received to fight these fools’ idiotic decisions.
I have zero doubt this is 100% Bannon, puppeteering the dottering old fool. I’m going to call him president from now on because he’s the real scourge we need to exterminate.
In any event, we’re all gonna die. Go to the damn bonfire. That’s all I’m saying here. And let anyone who worked longer/harder (and can prove it) cast the first stone.
Gotta get some professional protesting shoes if shit’s gonna be permanently whack.
I called upon my higher self this week. Asked to speak to 45-year-old me. Give or take three years from now.
I asked her what I can do now to ensure she’s healthy and sane and alive to vote in 2020. What does she need?
I did connect with her. She gave me a dream. In that dream I saw a woman too cha-cha for words. She wore a feather boa and glitter top hat and a cute dress. It almost distracted from the clumps of missing hair and sad lines near her eyes.
She was interviewing for a job. Even though her personality was massive, she calmly said thank you when they gave it to her.
I asked her why no big gushing fuss, like we always have to do when someone we don’t like gives us what we need.
She said darling, they are giving me less money than I’m worth … .
To do work they are too lazy to do or to keep their schedule wide open to screw their mistresses
And they WANT me to kiss their ass for the privilege of working nights and weekends and missing all the joy that life wants to give ME …
So darling, next time you work yourself into a pit of exhaustion every day …
And then lie awake all night with anxiety that you answer to people who can take away your paycheck just because they have and can and might because they won’t take their place under the bus …
Remember me and how I am struggling to overcome the health problems and broken soul you handed me.
You can change, darling, yes. But will you?
525,600 minutes between these photos. And 36 pounds’ difference.
My secret? Veggies. Walking. Hair falling out in clumps from anxiety. Not that I had it to spare.
I should be back to birth weight by this time next year.
Had a bad dream. That mom was gone and I was working around the clock and I stopped to realize that I was too busy to miss her.
I’m assuming that’s a weird side effect of it being sia’s birthday yesterday, her first not on this earth. But it scared me.
I thought of mom in heaven, seeing me not thinking about her because I had a phone stuck to my head all morning and then staying late to catch up.
It killed me because that’s how it is while she’s here. Although I think of her plenty.
Another day like the one I just outlined ahead. So sad about Sia that I could just die myself. Please God, let folks give me space today. And every day but especially today.
Today would have been Sia’s 32nd birthday.
She’s been on my mind all day. She’s never far from my mind, really.
Facebook Memories has her thanking me profusely for whatever I did for this birthday many years ago. In a way, it’s like she never really left. But then when you go to call …
I’ve reached out to her mom and sister. They don’t reach back. I figure I was close with her while they weren’t, and vice versa. We could fill in some blanks for each other.
But that’s how it works. Blanks don’t get filled. You don’t get to say goodbye and doors get slammed in your face, if you even get a door in the first place. (Which most don’t.)
I like to think the universe hates a void and works to fill it. A pet dies, you get another. A job ends, someone else who was dying to hire you finally gets the chance. A relationship ends, something better comes along. Right?
Not in my experience. You can be single for 40 years. No one to step in for friends who died or voted for Trump. (Same thing, really.) There’s no replacing a parent or a sibling who’s gone. And judging by how many people are sleeping on the streets because who the fuck can afford two grand for a studio down here, jobs don’t magically appear because you want one.
I tried to think of the best way to honor Sia today, since she’s gone and I’ve never had a friend like that before or since. And perhaps never will again.
Working 24 hours straight sounds about right.
But I went the other direction and left right before 6. Pile of unfinished work be damned.
This after an IM at 4:30:
White-on-white: I can’t finish that today. Almost quitting time.
Me: (I worked all weekend and only had yesterday off and I’m STILL behind and you won’t stay 15 extra minutes?)
Sia would have had a few choice words for the situation. I don’t care either way, honestly. I’ll regret leaving on-time-for-me tomorrow. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll be white-on-white and be perfectly fine feeding my mom at a reasonable hour and watching “This is Us” together like we love to do on Tuesdays.
Miss you, Sia. You were the only one out there just like me. With the disease to please. It took you. And I want to beat its ass for that.
Love you, girl. So, so much love, today and forever. Knock Trump’s wig off for me, OK? I’ll know it’s you …
