Caterwauling

Wasted an entire hour in a useless meeting.

I predicted useless meeting leader would brag about what an original idea they had to have this discussion that’s been had 300 times already with an overpriced consultant.

I was not wrong.

The good news, if you can call it that (and I’ll count anything other than abject failure as a victory these days), was that they were put into their place.

I mean, they didn’t see it that way. But I did.

I mean, who sits around talking about how to spend more money on more useless stuff when we’re all watching half the industry lose their jobs.

Or maybe I’m just sensitive because I run the biggest cost center and there are some decisions I have to make … and some very hard conversations I have to have … before I go on vacation.

Oh along with all the work I need to finish before Q4 ends. Which I got called out for, for not doing a project from July. Which I was the one who said hey I didn’t ever do this project.

Eff Why Eye.

In light of the busy-ness of it all, don’t think I haven’t asked if I can make cuts to OTHER departments.

I’d go back to bed but I can sit around and want to die over all this shit anywhere. And probably where I’m going, too.

“To be a witch is not only to refuse the yoke, it’s to collaborate in burning down the barn that imprisons us all.” — Amanda Yates Garcia

What was I saying recently, that inspiration is literally everywhere? I just sat down to collect some thoughts, and this jumped out at me.

AYG tells the story of her grandmother, who measured a woman’s entire worth on her ability to keep a man.

I mean, there are some good men out there worth keeping. Even if you don’t love them and just pretend for the world to see. Tra la la.

Most haven’t been, in my experience. At least, not romantically.

Professionally, however …

Yesterday I found myself vacillating between “oh shit, I’ve succumbed to colonial patriotism” and “I choose this because I like money.”

It’s a bigger metaphor for the literal being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Which I’d love to write about but, again, I like money.

Anyway, my knee-jerk reaction to it all was to go visit the want ads. Not because I want to leave, but because I haven’t really stood up for myself as much as I could have.

Like, what if that goes absolutely terribly in the face of the new regime that, understandably because we are all entrenched in capitalism, the answer to “what have you done for me lately” is “not enough” or “not what we were hoping”?

A friend said I need to know my worth. I’m like I know it just fine. I just don’t know that I’ve communicated it enough under the assumption that it has been understood.

But that got me to thinking (cue Carrie Bradshaw), no, they really don’t know my worth. Other than my momma, no one does.

I don’t even think I know it as well as my momma does.

My contribution has always been to try to provide what everyone wants. If I get my way in the process, even better.

What my friend pointed out is that the hot seat shouldn’t be mine to sit on. XYZ failed to do their part, so don’t look at me to fix it.

I think it’s bigger than knowing one’s (or others’) worth.

As AYG points out, it’s knowing one’s WILL.

Are we doing what’s right, best or enjoyable … or are we doing it for accolades, money, the Joneses?

I wrote about free will recently. Or at least I think I did. Maybe I didn’t publish it. Who knows.

But how many of us use our free will to decide to conform, contort or compromise for the sake of peace?

I value my peace above all. So I like to think THAT is me exercising free will.

I’m also feeling and getting older. 30-ish ain’t what it used to be, hoo boy. It’s too late to make waves.

Or is it?

I just worry that being one’s authentic self results in living under the bridge downtown. If you had a downtown, or one that had a bridge. I guess we have a lot of drawbridges, so who wants to live on a broken-down dock for the sake of what we all perceive to be freedom?

Anyway, it’s so cliche to say “stay wild, moon child.” It’s the watered-down witchy equivalent of “live, laugh, love.”

My niece has a poster in her virtual game room that says “kill, laugh, love.” I think she’s got it right.

Anyway, maybe I’ve spent enough time with my shadow for now. Or maybe it’s that I’ve spent enough time with OTHERS’ shadows … or IN them … for a good, long time.

Time for some shadowboxing, clearly.

I dreamed for just a few moments that I was able to connect with Source.

I call it Source because I’m not sure it’s God. Certainly I’m open to returning to Source and finding it’s God. But for now, I really hope that I’m not returning to the patriarchy.

When I pray or, more likely, ask for things, I try to address God, Goddess, ancestors, spirit guides, angels and any entity that’s helping me.

Collectively, I consider that Source, as I suppose it’s not a tangible place but rather a celestial fun house of characters that rotates.

In any event, about a year and a half ago, I decided it’s pointless to hate how one looks. (Self, of course. Others ain’t my business.) There are throngs of people who wish they had your healthy body, even if something about it causes you consternation.

Early this morning, as my fur children found something new to destroy, I found myself apologizing to Source.

I really don’t hate this life, I said. I rather enjoy it. I just SAY it all the time because it feels like somebody or something is always pissing me off or treating me in a way that is less than I deserve.

Imagine my surprise when I was scrolling through the Faceypage Memory Hole and saw this from five years ago …

Right now, I’m back to being afraid to be happy. Afraid to make doc appts. Afraid to skip town. Afraid to breathe wrong lest yet another decision backfires in a big way.

And I thought, if I just kill myself, I don’t have to deal with this.

Calm your tits if you’re rejoicing. Pissing off the fuckers in my feed is reason enough to live.

I wondered if I had that short, hazy dream with Source to prepare me for this. That it’s a fine life. Don’t let sucky situations distract you from that.

After all, what will Source say when we finally arrive?

* You had X number of years on that blue marble, and all you wanted to do was get off?

* You had free will and lamented not having it?

* Sure, you didn’t have money when you had time. Then you didn’t have time when you had money. Then you spent all your money to make the existential angst go away. How’d that work out for you.

* What are you going to miss doing from your human-suit days? What did you never do that you’ll never get the chance to do now?

Basically, what on earth must my guides, ancestors, angels and interested celestial parties think of me now … and what would they say if they hang around long enough to meet me when I cross back into their land?

More important, what are they saying now that can help me strut over to them someday to say, “Thanks for helping me have such a good life that I hate to leave it/am so happy to be leaving it because I had it all”?

I heard this phrase in “White Lotus.” The fabulous, murdering gays spoke of Tanya blooming late in life.

I don’t know that Tanya ever bloomed. She really only wised up for 10 minutes out of two seasons.

Then she hit her head off a tender and her philandering husband inherited her half-billion-dollar fortune. Which partially went toward paying off the palazzo where she had one wild, coke-fueled night.

Isn’t that life, though? I spent all season pondering and researching all the symbolism, only to lose the plot when the heroine died a stupid, preventable death.

SPOILER: She literally foiled her own murder plot … and murdered the murderers … and fucking HIT HER HEAD as she left the boat.

I mean, not the dumbest bitch I’ve ever seen. But definitely in the top three.

Got me to thinking about how one stupid move can end you.

I have this creature I’ll call Barkley. Barkley was bark, bark, barking all day.

I speak bitch fluently, after four years of having my socials stalked and critted by one. So I can bark, bark, bark right on back.

My hope is that they will go find a dog house that’s not within my line of sight.

But they get rewarded with treats and rides in the car and free run of the house. So I don’t see Barkley getting re-homed.

Despite the pampering, Barkley runs half the other pups out of the house and chases the rest into the corner.

The medium and little dogs who haven’t been euthanized don’t like playing with Barkley. But they know it will get bored and go bully another pup soon enough.

This medium pup wonders if I’m going to get rabies by trying to play with this big dog. Or disembowled.

If I rub Barkley’s nose in its own poop, maybe it will stop lifting its leg on my porch. Or maybe it will lick enough poo-poo off its face that it will decide not to do that anymore.

It took me 30-ish years, but I’m finally sick enough of cleaning poo-poo that I’m going to throw it back.

There’s probably more power, and certainly less danger, in letting these dogs choke themselves on their chains.

But damn it feels good to give them a little yank.

The clientele was quite attractive at my favorite haunt, pre-2019.

It’s gone downhill since. Haven’t we all, tho.

The food is still amazing, though. And the decor remains gorgeous.

No, not Amen. I ain’t takin nobody to church here.

Although, this gets me to thinking about all the snowflakes who are out there saying “Merry Christmas” like they’re speaking against injustice or something.

When I worked retail in the ’90s, we were told to say WHATEVER WE CELEBRATE.

I celebrated Christmas, so it was fine for me to say Merry Christmas.

I mean, in hindsight, maybe it was just those of us who celebrated the pagan-christian holiday who were allowed to say what we celebrate.

But what my PC ass took out of it was if you are Jewish, you say Happy Hanukkah. Or whatever floats your boat, you know?

This year, my attitude is “We say Happy Solstice.” I mean, I won’t say it in my newsletter, which goes to Fox News devotees. But, you get the idea.

Blessed Yule, baybee!

In any event, I came across the word awen in one of the witchy newsletters I read.

Awen, in essence, is tangible inspiration.

And when you are inspired by the art or beauty or music or other magic that awed you, then you are awenydd.

The point of the post that I was reading was that awen is everywhere. You cannot live an uninspired life … you cannot CREATE when you are uninspired.

Great news … inspiration (awen) is everywhere. Go get some and see how your output gets elevated.

“My life is but a short and precious seed
Like three seasons of life in a leaf on a tree
And when I cascade to the ground I will not be done
I will mingle with the earth and give life
To the roots again
Can somebody say Amen?”

— Paula Cole

The full moon this week was the Gemini moon.

As ever, this moon kicked my ass.

Of course, maybe it was just an intense work week after two weeks of PTO.

I mean, Monday started with the extraction of my final wisdom tooth. Then I got called into a meeting at 10 to be told about two launches set for this coming Tuesday. Spent so much time on the phone that my mouth bled for three days.

Oh and one of those launches got thwarted yesterday at noon, after I’d spent nights and mornings working on it.

I already announced that I’m taking another week off to recover from this one.

(Hey, we get three weeks’ vacation. No one ever told me I couldn’t take them ALL TOGETHER.)

In any event, I imagine this moon that most makes us have to deal with our shadow selves certainly didn’t help matters.

“To light a candle is to cast a shadow.” — Ursula K. Le Guin

I take some comfort in this quote. You want to shine, great. Use your power for good, awesome.

Just be prepared to deal with the darkness that any action or other move forward brings with it.

I got to thinking during my time off. How I want to ascend and make more money, which means WORKING even more. But … this pace isn’t sustainable for much longer. Thursday alone had me on the phone at 6 a.m. and editing long past 6 p.m.

Also, I’ve always been fine with the title/financial cap. If you make too much, they fire you. Not just here. Everywhere. (See: Previous job.)

Two of my friends just got shitcanned. A week of severance each after working 20 years.

If I get fired for saying that, well. I’m tired of hiding my authentic self.

When you have a bad seed with a hypnotic hold, you end up killing the plant all the way down to the root. These were the roots with a lot of institutional history who served others very well. Like me and my team. BELOVED characters.

Bad seed is blah. Not an ounce of personality or compassion or even an inch of depth to them. Just barks orders and ghosts you. Makes shit up. Complains the numbers are wrong and then uses the wrong numbers to justify termination.

Reads one paragraph of an eight-page newsletter and sends a missive to me to blame me for going against their orders when no one did anything wrong.

In any event, this is a clear example of someone’s shadow side being in charge. The shadow is a terrible force.

OTOH, shadow is depth. The talking self (ego) appears to always be in charge in this scenario.

As a witch, my nature is to go head-to-head with these beasts. I go against it in the name of peace and paychecks.

On a good day, I try to turn these beasts into (professional) besties.

On a bad day, I go up against these beasts. The last time I did it, I lost my seat at the grown-up table. Like the one where the terminations were determined.

I wonder if this particular beast IS my shadow.

Like, if the shadow I have to sit down and have a drink with is an actual, physical, invisible-horned being that I can’t shake till I slay it.

What’s interesting is that this demon has the same tribal marking as the previous demon. It must be a portal to hell or something.

I used to scream “Brad’s balls!” every time I needed to open a jar or tighten a screw or do something hard that required mustering all my might. Lately I’ve inserted this name and characteristic.

Let me tell you, I just used it to open a jar of hot bacon jelly. And boy was it worth it because that shit was gooooooood.

Anyway, it seems like I need to exorcise this demon. For the greater good of the entire village.

It’s going to take more than one full moon cycle to send this werewolf to go howl with Herschel Walker.

But to banish this thing back to the underworld with the rest is gonna feel fuckin great.

Gonna go get me some more of that jelly.

Since the tarot advent calendar is five years old, I checked my December tarot scope for inspiration.

And I found plenty.

“A horoscope that tells you to expect a happy ending without doing any work to get there is a silly thing to read right now. You are so much smarter than that.

“Lately, any happiness you’ve enjoyed has been hard-won. A dash of grief glimmers in all the joy you experience — that’s how you know it’s real.

“This month, dream up the happiest ending for the year you can muster. Then, do all that you can, within your ability, to get there. Let the rest go as best as you can.”

Dream up the happiest ending for the year you can muster.

TBH, finishing four projects would be ideal. Alas, I got smacked in the face with six more when I returned to work on Monday.

I’ll have to think on that one, since I should have started working an hour ago.

On the seventh day of December, the tarot advent calendar said to me …

Imagine, or draw, a little map of your travels and the ground you’ve gained (this year). Because you have, you know.

I see that this series was written in 2017. One of my favorite seers had posted it like it was something new. So maybe I’ll do my own tarot advent calendar. One day.

Anyway, The Chariot is the card of the day. And the action is to think about how far you’ve come this year.

I was just in the shower thinking about how work totally thwarts the concept of free will.

Like, I have two vats of Oxy. Not that I would ever take an opioid. But, you know, I’m in pain from some recent surgery.

Although I have the choice to take it, I can’t. I am already moving in slow motion after two weeks away. How could I impair myself further?

Same with just realizing I need something from a store. I mean, I could go but then I’d be stuck working late and still not being caught up. And getting more emails about shit I owed HR back in April, sigh.

What I was really thinking about when I got the Chariot is how I feel like I will always be a well-paid worker bee. I have opportunities to show leadership and do some serious project management. But then I slide into editing projects and accommodating the marketing geniuses.

How have I moved forward, then? By brute force.

That’s not the Chariot. You can liken the Chariot to being on a people mover. Depending on the deck, the sphinxes (or other animal) in the front are chill. They aren’t galloping. They’re cruising. And so is the dude in the little Pope-mobile behind them.

In other words, wherever you are going, you’re going to get there whether you panic or not.

That’s how I drive 95. I’ve had many colleagues pass me on the highway and say how slow they think I drive.

But then a funny thing happens … I arrive at the same time as them. No lane-changing. No flooring it then slamming on the brakes.

TL;DR – They’re stressed and I’m happily thinking about what I learned on the podcast that I was listening to.

Let your mind wander to the places you wish to go in (2023), the people you want to get closer to, the new/reconnections you’d like to forge.

Whoever they are, I don’t know them yet. I look at these Zoom screens every day and really wonder why I feel inconsequential to a couple of them.

Like, dude, I am a freaking GODDESS. Magic runs through my veins. Everything I emit from my mind and mouth is pure sunshine. Y’all should be clamoring for MY favor.

I need more magic in my life. More magical people. More magical things and experiences.

They’ve noticed I gravitate to the magical people and projects in our orbit. It has been mentioned to me that this has not gone unnoticed.

I guess that was a message to spend more time on the lesser ones. But I have never been shy about wanting to hang with the stars.

It’s because I am a star.

And it’s high time I remembered how to fucking act like it.

On the sixth day of December, the tarot advent calendar said to me …

Luck is on your side today. The Universe is looking to see how serious you really are about something.

I have an uneasy peace with the Wheel of Fortune. It’s generally a good card.

Laymen take it as a sign that changes are coming; the Ferris wheel of life is always turning, so take heart if you’re in a rut.

I’ve always taken it the opposite way. That things are going well and that flow could turn into an ebb real fast.

I guess that’s because that’s what’s always happened when I pulled this card.

The last couple times I had a question about health or career stability, I pulled this bitch and sure enough got a diagnosis and a pink slip.

Hard pass, Grimace.

But when I zoom out to 30,000 feet, I see that wheels have been good to me. The mysteries got removed. The things that weren’t meant to be mine went away.

Even though the losses were profound, there was a lightness that came with leaving behind a load that wasn’t mine to carry.

The last time I got the wheel, I got shitcanned and, shortly after, got the offer to return to my old job. Which I took.

The people who had lured me to my previous job put me down for returning to the job before that.

That’s right, people who did nothing to help me keep said job were somehow angry that I went running back to the old-old job when asked.

This proved a theory I had had all along — that they did their level best to lure me away for some sinister reason.

I mean, it’s no secret that my boss and I were buddies and these others didn’t like or appreciate him or his ways.

I know they loved screwing him by stealing me and then someone after me.

And I know they wished I found something new rather than running back.

I wasn’t ready, you know? I was missing him/that place anyway. I also had a fresh diagnosis and, um, NO INCOME STREAM.

But now I’m in a different mindset. I can maybe look for something new if I wanted to.

What I really want, I feel, is where I am.

I think of my friend Kim G. No not that Kim G. The previous one. She was part-time at Phillips even though she worked full-time.

When I asked her why she settled for 34 hours of pay, it was because she could leave at any time after those 34 (well, at least 40 for her) hours.

In other words, she had her priorities and once she knocked them out, gotta go and sorry I can’t help you with that pile of stress you just accepted because you’re not paid by the hour.

Mine is not a job that can be done part-time. Of course, when you think about it, it can’t be done by one full-timer either. But … what if I figured out how to make it a 40-hour gig … and did something else on the side that has more of a spiritual reward at the end rather than financial?

What if I already knew what it was … that I’ve always known what it was … and could just never do it because I’ve never made the time?

What if the Wheel is saying get out of this Ferris wheel car and climb into a different one for a while?