Hellcat Heart

If I was fancy, I’d add a song here to capture the feeling of being up at 4:30am, Spotify blasting a sleepy-sounding love song, hot coffee, and soft snores creeping out from under the bedroom door.

I’m so tired lately. Physically and mentally. This is providing an intense conundrum for my spirit because she…she is NOT tired. My spirit is ready to GO GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOO! She wants to pack boxes and decorate and plan mini-vacations and take up new exercise routines and join some local groups and go to more strip-tease classes and learn to knit and write music and bake exotic breads and paint the entire inside of this house.

She lives in the upstairs of the most energetic part of my mind where everything can be accomplished and everything is possible. Her grumpy downstairs neighbor is my physical self and that particular neighbor is having NONE of this. Grumpy downstairs neighbor is a body that wakes up in pain a lot of days, not enough sleep, and long hot baths where she escapes the crunchy joints for up to 2 hours at a time.

They say it’s “probably rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia.” Great. Thanks for that “probably going to affect you for the rest of your life” pep talk there, doc. I sound grumpier about that than I actually am because it’s more of a truthful annoyance than a “ZOMG…I’m going to be one of those people who are constantly in pain!” Because we’re all in pain on some level, right? And body pain can be managed. It’s pain in the heart or the mind that I cringe to think about. Thank Goddess my mind and heart are living in a nice duplex on “We’re doin’ alright” street at the moment.

My job takes a lot out of me. I work with a couple of people who are energy vampires and you know how darkness loves its sunshine. When I think about the fact that I’ve been at the company for 9 months now, I do realize I am getting better at shielding myself from the vacuum of people who really, REALLY need some hobbies. Or friends. Or therapy. But I do love my job for the most part. They pay me well and I’m comfortable. I will retire there, I think. Only 25-ish years to go.

We are house-hunting. Meeting with our realtor and our money man and a stack of newly-listed houses in a nice community here in Atlanta.

My house wishlist is as follows:

• 4 bedrooms/ 2.5 or 3 bathrooms
• 2 car garage
• a nice, big kitchen with lots of counter space
• big closets
• a small-ish fenced yard for the dogs
• a quiet neighborhood with mature trees and beautiful streets

I’ve come across a perfect little witchy house but there is too much work to be done so keeping our eyes out for something a little more move-in ready.

In a perfect world, the house would have built-ins, no stairs, a sunroom, a soaker tub, and a giant screened-in porch where I could camp out late at night with my hot tea, book, blankets, and snoring dogs. JD would be beside me in a hammock built for two and we’d read to one another, nap, and feel the breezes of being happy rock us to sleep.

See, even in all my tired days and nights…I still dream.

That’s how you know you are alive. <3

I feel the need to make a list of what’s on my mind, things I want to try, maybe what is pretty to me right now…

As they say at the ice cream parlour: LET IT SWIRL, BAYBEE.

1. I need a really meaty story. Something fiction. Preferably extremely well-written. I just finished “Where the Crawdads Sing” and it was a nice story, well done, but had a softer landing than I would have liked. Still, very entertained for the 3 days it took me to get through it.
2. I’m about to say a big fat “NO” with a period to a side hustle that I’ve been doing for the last 6 months. It’s only bringing in about $250 extra dollars per month but it’s way more stress than it’s worth and I don’t get any joy out of it. Sure, I hustle from my iMac at home but I want it to be things that I actually look forward to doing. Thinking about not doing this hustle anymore? SUPREME JOY.
3. I think I’m about to get my hair cut. Maybe short. Maybe really sassy. Maybe more of a punk style than is “appropriate” for my age but hell, it’s hair…if I hate it, it will grow back.
4. I’m all about the dark victorian goth feeling lately: black roses, apothecary jars with old labels, raven skulls adorned with crystals, the color of aubergine in a dusty corner, rose madder, the smell of something dark and sweet and faintly ominous wafting around in the form of a divine incense.
5. People are fucking MESSY. Why does this give me joy? Because I am thankful that I am NOT stuck in that stage of life where I am desperately filling my time with bullshit people, bullshit things, and bullshit bandaids for my self esteem. I see way too many people on the internet desperate for attention, something to fill their time, or just flat out lying about who they are while sadly thinking that nobody knows their truth. My gratitude to have lived and learned those lessons at the age of 20, and not 40 or 50 or 60.
6. Music I’m obsessed with lately: Dua Lipa, Lizzo (still), Lay Low, Billie Eilish, really old Fiona Apple, HER, and witchy sounding shit that doesnt even have words.
7. I’d like to try yoga again. And pole dancing. And maybe something else involving moving my body in sensual, sweaty ways.
8. JD and I have a LOT of “during the week” sex and I kinda love it.
9. I’m about to start work on getting another certification. Yikes and Wee.
10. I’m about to purge again. I can feel it coming. Friends lists, closets, habits. Bring it on.

Listening to: “Bottom of the River” by Delta Rae

“Hold my hand…Oooh baby…It’s a long way down to the bottom of the river…”

So she says.

I’ve been re-evaluating so many things: How I spend my time. What makes me smile. Who I lean on when shit gets real. How I can be more present. The years I gave to a few family members who didn’t deserve it. Finding my true love at the age of 40. The changes happening to my body. My mind. My heart.

I generally wake up every single day happy to be alive. I have so many ideas bursting forth from my brain that I have to comb through what is viable in the immediate so that I don’t get overwhelmed with “set yourself on fire and drive 150 mph to make it all happen”.

When the pot has burned dry on the stove of my mind and there are nothing left but little white flecks of God-knows-what jumping around in the scorching pan, when it is all empty and on the verge of burning my entire house down, my most supreme truth is that I want what matters.

I want beauty. Not necessarily on my face but around me. In my world. Pretty things to look at, to touch, to smell. Serenity and joy and a warm bed of a job well done.

I want to spend less “bullshit” time on social media. I love knowing what everyone is up to, what is happening politically, all the latest memes making me smile, random articles on medieval torture or the latest recipe on Chicken Picatta, Facebook, Instagram, all of it. I love all of that but when I think of how I spent my day sometimes, there are too many things that don’t matter and a fair amount of those things come from what so-and-so is doing, who is catfishing with 15 year old photos, what bullshit Trump has pulled in his latest bid to destroy the world, or random diatribes from mouth-breathing trogs who I actually care not a single fuck about. I do like pretty pictures and poetry and beautiful videos and things that make me feel joy so…more of those kinds of things and less of the things and people who really are just simple and shallow and vapid as fuck.

Finally, I want to paint again or create…anything…with my hands. Not necessarily another website or another social sphere or another storefront or anything digital. Maybe jewelry or artwork or runes or cards or just…anything from my marrow.

So mote it be.

All of it.

And especially the gushy parts.

April (and it seems like May will be too) was a whirlwind of travel, activities, work obligations, and busy busy bee bee buzz buzz BUZZZ stuff.

I made good progress finding a doc to address some shit I’ve been ignoring and feel like I’m on track to make it work. Took a little trip to Portland to see some beloved friends who I haven’t seen in forever and who fill my tanks with such delight and nonsense and validation that I can’t even breathe it all out just yet. Made good progress at work with some huge projects and feel slightly less soul-sucked every day by the cadence of my career.

In true “me” fashion, I still have a looooong list of things that need doing for my home and side-hustles and personal obligations but I’m filling my tanks first with travel and parties and time with JD because re-prioritizing the important stuff has made all the difference.

Someone emailed wanting to buy the Planet. I repeated my well-rehearsed spill about how it was not for sale and would never be for sale since it is a community resource. They upped their price. I declined again. Charma used to ask me “why don’t you just sell the damned thing?”, especially if there was a lot of chaos or behind the scenes work going on, but even she knew I’ll hang on to it with my last dying breath.

During my divorce, attempts were made to shut it down. An “emergency” injunction floated over to my attorney’s office which we summarily had thrown out of court based on…well, it being absolute bullshit. I didn’t talk about it to the folks in the space because it was just too much stress to add to the pile and besides, what good does it do to make people feel like their space might disappear on the whims of an evil, petty, vindictive, junky-ass child masquerading as an adult. (Yes, I still have feelings around that b.s.) But alas, it’s mine. Forever. And hence, it will belong to the community forever. Or until I’m too old to do it and then I hope I’ll be able to turn it over to someone who cares about the space. We shall see.

I had to cut a friend loose recently for having unnatural expectations, shitty boundaries, and unacceptable behavior in my orbit. Disappointment always sucks but I was pretty proud of the work I’ve done around certain hard limits I have set when it comes to friendships and/or relationships of any kind. I’ve let folks close to me know, if you clown on me in certain ways or try to bully me into doing what you want? It’s a hard limit and you get no second chances. I love people and generally meet them where they are but I also value my mental space and ability to recognize folks who have work left to do that cannot include me.

May is about joy and flying through it. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up on some freelance work and another freelance contract brewing that might cover our upcoming vacation. Fingers crossed.

Also? I bought a couple more antique creepy babies in Portland and have set about rebuilding my menagerie of the macabre. Onward, weirdos, ONWARD!

I always want to make a list called “things I would do if I had more time” but I always seem to forget to do it since my schedule is packed full most of the time. On the rare occasion I have “down time”, it’s spent in bed luxuriating with my hunk and reading delicious books. Sometimes it’s the tub with bubbles and wine and candles and all the slippery things.

I have more side-hustles than I can handle right now and a full-time job that takes 50 hours a week and I love it most of the time. One of my friends recently said I was one of the busiest people he knew and asked why I have so many side projects when my main job more than sustains my lifestyle.

Simple: Creative outlet + love of stability = side hustle.

I grew up poor and even though my Mom had *amazing* work ethic, she still never made very much money. Between me and my Brother, she struggled to keep us in decent clothes and day care. I watched her create her own side-hustles beginning when I was maybe 8 or 9 when she discovered her love and aptitude for creating beautiful floral arrangements and crafty tchotkes. I watched her make and sell ribbons, hair bows, t-shirts, vase arrangements, and all manner of “early 80’s craftathon” while holding down her main job, a household, and driving 2 hours round trip every day to make it all work.

I’m not crafty like my Mom, not even in the same ballpark. I paint, yes, but not so often anymore. My focus has always been on the digital world of website building, buying and selling domain names, hosting, graphic design, and squeezing dollars from the world of niche social media markets. And I’m good at it.

At the end of the day, I love to create. Spaces, communities, marketing plans, etc. I love seeing it all come together. I love watching my little sparkly idea turn into a biggo hurricane of glitter and wind, sweeping people up and creating joy in the process.

It doesn’t bring in enough cash that I would ever quit my full-time because I’m ALLLLLLL about having my steady check every other Friday but I do love the extra chunk of change coming in every month. I send it directly to my savings account and watch that little egg grow and grow.

Pitter patter. Beat beat. My heart runs on creative flow and finish lines made of “what’s next?!”

 I’ve been here for about a month now. In the last month I have been killing it at my new job, moved a fair amount of clutter out of the house, and found a wonderful spa to take care of all of my facial routines.

 I have also found my permanent nail place, two fancy grocery stores where I can get pretty much anything I want, a couple of thrift stores if I want to make donations or get used books, a vast array of make up counters, clothing stores, shoe stores, and metaphysical shops in which to get my favorite incense.

I have failed miserably at balancing my 10- mhour workdays with being “the perfect housewife” but JD doesn’t seem to mind eating chili or pizza for dinner.  This, of course, has not been friendly to my waistline but that will be the next thing to get in order.

We put so many crazy Christmas lights in the front yard and decorated our tiny little tree and it really does feel tacky and magical in the best way.

Bella loves having a backyard and Killer loves that I feed him chicken and sweet potatoes every night.

I’m really happy. Happy and glittery and safe and feeling creative again. I can’t think of anything better than all of this.

I got my dream job in Atlanta. For an incredible salary. With bomb-ass bennies.

And I’m moving on Friday.

So here I am procrastinating the tornado of packing by posting on my blog.

Ok. Bye.

ETA: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHHHHHHYYYYYYYY DO I HAVE SO MANY FUCKING SPICES AND BOXES OF TEAAAAAAAAAAA?????

Well,  after three solid years of insanity my divorce drama and house sale is finally complete with a period on the end of the sentence.

The house was sold. I got my settlement and paid everything I owed and am now debt-free with my eyes on the horizon.

I am still being harassed. Still being targeted. Still being hovered over. I was telling  JD that people with nothing going on in their lives have nothing but time and that, while I wish the negativity would stop, I sleep well at night knowing I’m just over here living my best life.

Next order of business is getting the job in Atlanta locked down, getting moved, and getting back into law school. Oh, and eating a fair amount of pumpkin pie in the process.

I can’t described this feeling. I thought it would be exhilerating….and it is on a lot of levels…but it’s just peaceful and quiet and level and maybe that’s exactly what it was supposed to be all along. <3

I watched the awful testimony of the human shitpile that is Brett Kavanaugh. He’s worse than I thought. A veritable Baby Trump. Even talks like him.

That poor woman, Dr. Ford. Having to even sit under the same roof with that motherfucker.

I felt so powerless watching it. And trauma, boy was there trauma. And anger. Rage, even.

I have to do something. The system is so fucked.

Tomorrow I will call UGA and see what needs to happen to get my LSAT scheduled and see about getting into law school next year. I want to help people. And I want to see rapists pay for their crimes.

So mote it be.