Like Billy Corgan, I’m ‘Still just a rat in a cage’
Had the weirdest dream last night.
The last official ex-employer hired me back, totally on the downlow, just for one day. She approached me and said, look, nobody knew what was going on better than you did. And I want you to scope out the place for a day and tell me all of your recommendations on how to move the business forward.
Hmm. Well, finances being what they are, my dream self knew better than to say no to what would be a cakewalk.
So, I get there, and I remembered what my days once felt like. But pride also being what it is, I figured hey, it’s only a day.
No kidding, I was put into this GIANT labrynth and had to find my paycheck. Which was fine. I knew I had to solve some riddles along the way. It’s all good. I can tap-dance like a good soldier when there’s cash involved. Or cheese. Whichever.
I finished the maze in two hours. But I was committed to doing a full day’s work, so I sought out the old boss to answer some questions so that I might achieve even more.
At the end of my day, I gave my assessment of the state of the union. I unfurled a scroll (what the hell century was this?!?!) full of recommendations. And got blown the hell off every single time I opened my mouth.
I don’t mean disregarded. I mean being so submerged in double-talk that I had to fall silent so I could keep listening and not be talking over her and miss anything.
And my trademark stubbornness being what it is, I handed back the envelope containing my pay, unopened. I don’t know what the job was worth, and I didn’t care.
I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like I stood for any principles. I just felt like I could have done something else with my day.
It’s not one of the psychic dreams I was hoping for, but it provided some retroactive insight that I really didn’t want or need, but thanks anyway.
In my waking life, I started making a list today, of what I *really* want to do with my life. It doesn’t look a whole hell of a lot like the past 20 years of my life have looked. I’m grateful for it all, but I want the next 20 years to be VERY different.
I spent Sunday afternoon with a 90-ish woman. And that’s how it all ends up, you know? In a hospital bed where nobody takes care of you and nobody really misses you.
And MAN was she awesome. I don’t have my own grandmother anymore, so I appreciated having the next best thing.
When I left, she grabbed my hand and told me to marry a good man. “You deserve it, honey. Don’t settle for what’s out there. Hold out for the real thing, and I hope you have the best time of your life with him.”
That caught me so off-guard. I don’t know what I was expecting. Nothing, really. Certainly not the wisdom of the ages.
I’m surrounding myself with love these days. I’m succumbing to the whole royal wedding production. I’m looking at wedding dresses. Lingering over platinum and diamond rings. Debating the personals. That sort of thing.
And normally, when people say things to me about love and relationships and marriage, I scoff. “Not for me,” is usually my response. But when she asked my age and I choked on, “I’m turning 37,” I felt the cold air gush through that tiny little hole in my heart that I’ve stuffed full of disbelief and sarcasm.
This is the year for love. I’ve all but given up on the career. And weight loss. 😉 Might as well ask the universe for something that actually has a shot at lasting — something I want to be a part of, unlike the workforce or the non-pudgy-pork-roast-assed set.
(What fun is that? Let’s hear it for the fat girls! I was born overweight — why fight fate?)
It’s all good. It just has to get better. I might be lying about my age going forward, but being honest with myself about what I really want out of life might mean I actually GET it. Gasp! Who knew?