Eye Opening

Heya.

It's been long time 'twixt posts. Which, of course, makes me think of Twix. Which makes me think of YUM.

I've been on the road a lot. And, granted, some of this was nominally "for fun" but much of it was for work. And due to current emotional/mental climates, none of it really did me any good.

I got to see GoodBuddy. And this was good. And Bad. I'm not in the best place emotionally and clearly neither is he. (He'd argue that, but fuck you). So, yes, there were the best of times and there were the worst of times. I still truly believe that this move is not in his best interest, but I understand why he needs to give it his all and how many positive things can come from it.

I am also feeling - shocking enough - like I might be rounding a corner in my own well being. Yes, I'm still finding it hard to get up in the monings, much less get out to work, pressed and dressed, and actually care about what I'm doing. But, I can remember what it was like to care and I am experiencing the desire to go back there, so that is good.

I'm reading Mary Forsberg's Fall to Pieces (link at later date) and finding it very compelling. Even laughable how fucking similar our situations can be - her an LA model marroied to an international movie star, me a nobody from nowhere - but still....

I need to get some rest tonight because part of my new years resolution was to make the most of my mental health efforts. And I get to see Awesome Therapist tomorrow. In a few weeks I will visit London and that will no doubt do me a world of good.

I will try to update soon with more. Sorry I've been so MIA.

So, You Thought You Could Decorate

I now have a new and deep insight into some of the neurosis that is my psyche. I enter the following into evidence:

I realize that driving around, taking in the holiday decorations and ooohing and awwwing is an American tradition. And, sure, we all have our own opinions on whether or not we like this or that display. I, personally, enjoy the more traditional looking homes but I also appreciate inventiveness and creativity. My brother, on the other hand, likes it loud, bright, gaudy and glittering. Think Clark W. Griswold in Christmas Vacation.

This year, my family was making our way to the annual trip to The Nutcracker. We see it every year, at the same theatre, performed by the same company, and eat a pre-theatre meal at the same restaurant. Because my family is NOTHING if not a slave to tradition. And, on our way from restaurant to theatre, we take the back roads.

Here's a snippet of the conversation during said drive through beautiful, picturesque neighborhoods.

Scene: Large house on a hill, lit by white candles and twinkly white lights.
Mom: "Isn't that lovely!"
Dad: "Big houses. Must cost a fortune."

Scene: Two story home, outlined in colored lights
Mom: I really don't like when people just line their houses like that. It seems so tacky.
Dad: Well, they have no imagination. It's low-effort decorating. Just a few strings of lights, some staples and you're done.

Scene: Trees in front of home draped in multi-colored lights in large, looping arcs.
Dad: Ugh. I hate that. It seems so willy-nilly.
Mom: It's almost like they just toss the strings up over the branches and who cares where they land. Really, they could put SOME effort into it.

Scene: Old oaks in front of a house wrapped, root to tips, in tiny white lights.
Dad: I really don't like that look.
Mom: I don't either. Why would you want to outline a bare tree? They probably leave the lights up all year anyway.

If you've been through even half the therapy I've been through (and here's hoping you haven't had to be!) you would also sit back and observe all of this with wonder and awe appropriate for this holiday season.

I could wax on with psychobabble and therapy language here, but that would just be overkill.

Randomosity

Out of the blue, about two years ago, GB popped up on my AOL messenger. A few hours later, we were sharing stories over a Bud Light and Jack Daniels in a bar. He's now probably the most important person in my life. A reality that should and must change, given all that is going on.

In a completely unrelated happenstance, I spent many hours a few nights ago exchanging stories with a long lost friend. Now, our last interaction wasn't exactly the most positive. And, to be frank, he's not re-finding me on my best footing. But, still, re-find each other we did.

So, here's where this gets complicated. Long lost friend (let's call him JeepBoy) used to live in Florida. And has friends down there. So, I said, hey, fly down and meet me down there while I spend NYE with GoodBuddy.

Then GoodBuddy tells me a friend of his might actually be there as well. And I get upset.

OK - here's the back story. Last night, GB passed out and didn't answer any of the gazillion phonecalls I put in to him. I called a mutual friend and told him, "I invited a friend down to FL to meet up. And now GB isn't answering my call. Is he passed out or is he pissed?" And mutual friend said, "Look, maybe he was really looking forward to spending time with you. Alone. Quality time." And I liked that. I hung onto that.

So, when I got upset that GB mentioned our time together might be shared, I was totally and utterly hippo critical. I have absolutely no right to be upset. Still, I can't help but be a little disappointed.

Because, the stark and nekkid reality is, I miss our long talks, our honest reality-bites discussions. And we're probably not going to get to have any of those now. And, while I'm glad he will have a lot of his friends surrounding him during the holiday, the part of me that wanted to be his one and only "special" friend is really, very sad.

Burnout (Or a trip to the drycleaners)

So, yes, I am officially and totally burned out. Two weeks' vacation cannot come soon enough. I cannot stress this adequately.

I made the executive decision to Fuck It and work from home today. Here's why.

When I started w/ this jobby job, I was informed that I would be the "super user" of our new CRM database system, which was just in the process of being spec'd out. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I'm not what one would call analytically minded. Still, turns out my key contact is a wicked nice guy from MN, complete w/ the Fargo lilt and talking to him often doesn't suck.

So, okay, fast forward to now. We're trying to roll out enhancements to our system which, in his words, "give a whole new definition to scope creep." And indeed it does.

CBL has been completely hands off on this project, to the point where, when I bring it up, she rolls her eyes and I can practically hear her thinking "just deal with it, will you?" She doesn't seem to understand that every little whim she wants to indulge or change she wants to make means a chunk of my time laying it out and an even huger chunk of MN's time getting it done. It's a matter of respect. And then, of course, when she doesn't understand or like one of the changes, she goes into her "flurry mode." So, I really do need her sign off beforehand.

Yesterday, I made it quite clear that I needed to talk to her and if we were going to get these changes out, we needed to sign off TODAY. Response? "After my conference calls, I need to head into the FedEx dropoff and the drycleaners. We can talk after."

At 3, I got an email. "On the bus now. Do you need anything? A coffee? Snack?" Reply: "Don't need anything but the chance to discuss CRMSystem with you." Could I be any more clear?

When the shit hits the fan and she's getting yelled at by Prez (and then she turns around and yells at me) because the updates aren't made, know what I'm going to say?

"You know what? I'd love to talk, but I've gotta get to my drycleaners."

The importance of being Jack

Occasionally, GB and I like to play this social experiment. We go to a bar. Sit down. The bartender comes over for our order and he says, "Bud Light in a bottle and a Jack Daniels." Then we wait to see which drink the barkeep puts down in front of which person.

Yes, folks, I'm a woman. I drink Jack. Sometimes w/ a mixer. Sometimes w/ a chaser. In some extreme circumstances, straight out of the bottle with only a bit of a shiver at the finish.

This may seem hardcore. And, in truth, it's certainly not the best of vices. But, I have to say this, it wins me a LOT of friends on the road.

Of note: At dinner with ChirpBoy in SanFran, when the very cute bartender found out the Jack was my drink, she put my pour on the house. On the plane on the way home (eight hour flight!) when the flight attendant heard that I asked for a JD to help me sleep, she told her co-worker to "put it on my tab." Tonight, on the train, I made a joke about the 14 hour day with my boss. The female conducter leaned over and whispered, "what are you drinking?" Next trip I made to the cafe car, a nip was quietly deposited into my snack box.

The reality is, women appreciate in one another a sense of strength, a sense of identity, a sense of ownership. Maybe it's about time those of us who DON'T watch Sex In the City began reclaiming ourselves. I don't know. But whatever it is, I'm psyched about it. Because it's led me to talk to people I might never have had the nerve or incentive to approach.

A round of whatever you're drinking on me!