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2006-01-25 @ 11:52 p.m.
under the clutter laid a life waiting to happen

Note to self: January 25, 2006. 10:56 p.m. Try to make your life better. Don’t forget now. Ok. Good.

I think the epiphany came today after I had tripped over my snowboots, for like the 450th time and I thought goddammit witty, why don’t you just move the damn things, and then you won’t trip over them everytime you run to answer the phone. I live in a small apartment. Its the kind of living space where everything has to be in its exact place otherwise it looks cluttered. The route I take? Artistic chaos. I tend to fling things asunder when I come in. Boots come off at the kitchen door. Mail is piled really high on a tiny jut out kitchen counter. And to be honest its starting to look like one of those apartments, crazy guys get evicted from because they have magazines from 1962 piled to the ceiling.

But it gets better, because beyond that is my piano on the right and my kitchen table on the left. My piano is overflowing with photos, bells from India, useless gew gads, a large Kandisky poster and two large baskets full of every Broadway musical scores ever written. My kitchen table on the right is merely a trinket. Its not a real kitchen table. I’ve never actually eaten on it. Oh no. There’s too much crap underneath it. All my painting canvases and sketchbooks and matboards. Oh, and my very stunning collection of 1950’s and1960’s records: The Beatles (lots of them), Aretha Franklin, The Supremes, the Shirelles, the Isley Brothers, Ray Charles, Billie Holliday, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, all my Broadway-geek records (Cabaret, Oklahoma, Chorus Line, Porgy and Bess, George M, Fiddler on the Roof, Evita), movie soundtracks like “Goldfinger”. I even have comedy records like “Pardon my Bloopers” by Kermit Schafer and the original “Laugh-In” television show record. Yay me! Think how excited someone would be to find that! Whee!

I used to sell all this crap on E-Bay. I remember finding an unopened Monty Python record for 50 cents at a local garage sale 2 summers ago and selling it for almost $30 to some guy who worked for the BBC in London. Its unbelieveable that he couldn’t find a single unopened copy of a Monty Python comedy record in all of England and yet I managed to find one at some yuppie garage sale across the street from Sno-Top ice cream place. Suckah!

But I don’t do that stuff anymore. I’m too lazy and besides I’m afraid I’ll ruin my 100% satisfaction rating. Its literally the only place where I’ve supplied 100% wonder and goodness to everyone everywhere and its been officially documented. One customer even said I was “the nicest girl on E-Bay”. Oy, if she only knew. (coughmoody, grouchy bipolar).

And then there’s the chair behind my computer chair that is usually draped with clothing. Nice going, witty! Who says you need closet space, when there’s the to throw your stuff on. Guardcat has claimed this living room chair, behind my computer desk as one of her many cat bedrooms throughout my apartment.

And then there’s my desk with its various useless things like artwork, stuffed velvet sequinned frogs and window hardware. I would like to put up some mini-blinds, and I have all the hardware, but I just can’t do it alone, so all the screws and boltie things are lying helter skelter all over my desk. And keeping them company is my big old 1990’s type computer, which I think is starting to fail, because its taking like 10 minutes to open up my buddies list on d’land. And I clean and de-frag that damn thing more than Angelina Jolie burps Maddox for chrissakes. But it is 8 years old and that’s like a dinosaur eons in computerland.

So I’ve been compressing things and dumping tons of old e-mails to and from Married Guy (oh, I’m so romantic, I had saved every last one of them...even the assholey ones like when he told me I “was using him as an excuse not to have a life”, which is rather ironic since he did all the “I love you” proclamations during our relationship). There are still a few things of his I can’t won’t delete, like our old newspaper we did together and photos of him and I, like the one I had smashed to smithereens and threw into a garbage can during in a session with “A” last January. It was cathartic to be sure, but I do have a copy of it in my damn computer. I’ve also been transferring all my photos and artwork to a account, so in case my computer croaks or my apartment burns down, I’ll have a record of my life somewhere.

And actually, by time you get to my bedroom, things finally start thinning out. The floors are actually accessible. I don’t have large teetering stacks of bills or medicare notices threatening to fall over and crush Guardcat as she goes chasing after phantom mice through my bedroom. Its not that I’m messy either. I’m not. Its just don’t have enough room or the proper storage for my stuff. What I really need is a mansion to live in...plain and simple. I’d settle for a third closet though. Anyone know if the Transameric@ building in San Francisco is available?

What got me all riled up, I guess, had to do with going to the gym yesterday. I had had a fairly intense session with “A”. I’m a victim of the mid-winter blues and I also have some unhappy things going on at work. My latest client, whose company I really enjoyed, called my voice mail yesterday and basically relieved me of my services. She’s gay and she thinks I have a problem associating with lesbians. I was flabbergasted. Its true I have one gay coworker, who I don’t like but its because of her personality, not because of who she chooses to sleep with. My best friend in the world is gay man, and his gayness has never been an issue in our friendship. Ever. I adore “G”. I even had a really close friend in California for 3 years who was a lesbian. It never had any bearing on our friendship. So I have no clue what vibe she was supposedly picking up. She did flirt with me a lot. And I didn’t respond because 1). She is a client and this is a work relationship. 2). I’m not gay, therefore I’m not interested. 3) My company is not a dating service. 4) I am not a paid escort. Lord knows, I would certainly make a lot more money if I were.

And the last time I saw her was during my group with “J” at work, and he was certainly in fine fiddle. We were talking about sex (neener, neener, I get to go to work and talk about sex and you don’t) and “J” who is married, just does this sudden proclamation “I want a girlfriend” out of nowhere. Huh? What’s that have to do with what we’re talking about? Oh. Sex. I talked to “A” about it and he thinks “J” is throwing down the gauntlet to me. Like, I got you a gift, I’ve made snide remarks about married life, now I’m telling everyone “I want a girlfriend”. See the supposed logical progression here? I guess he’s never done a “girlfriend on the side thang” before, because you don’t announce it to a group of people and then turn and look at a single coworker.

There’s a lot more to the story, which I won’t put here, but I was rather annoyed with him and with men in general on Monday. I guess I’m just getting tired of all the sexual innuendo at my office, from both men and even from my lesbian client and I’m going to start putting my foot down. I make alot of jokes about sex here, but having men (and women) saying and doing inappropriate stuff in person makes me really uncomfortable. I feel re-victimized when people sexualize me and my self esteem has really taken a plunge the last couple of weeks. I guess its because I let people do things to me and I don’t protest.

So what was the epiphany? Well, it really wasn’t a huge epiphany. It was more like a comma in the 9/11 Report kind of epiphany. I went to the gym after seeing “A” on Tuesday. I wanted to work out some of my angst on the treadmill. I’m not sure why I went. I haven’t been feeling well since last Saturday. I think I’m getting a sinus infection and have been tired and headachy. I had set the treadmill for a pretty good clip with hills. I wanted to hit more than a mile in a half hour, but then suddenly I felt a sharp jab in my thigh. I had pulled a muscle. But did I stop? Hell no. I just kept going. I wanted to hit one.mile.five.

I was also watching all the TV screens overhead. I had forgotten my headphones so I was just looking at the screens. One TV had a hunky man straddling a girl in a bed and they were having some hot monkey afternoon TV sex. Very passionate. Normally, I would be watching that, if for nothing else, than to see some writhing bodies and wishing it was me and Johnny Depp. But then on the TV next to it was a messy NY couple who were having their small apartment professionally organized. It showed the organizer trying to convince the woman to throw out catalogs from 1999 and she was very resistant. The guy was a little better about throwing things out and actually found a big box of his clothing he had “lost” when he combined households 3 year ago.

So what’s the point? Instead of watching the hot monkey afternoon TV sex with Barbie and Ken, I was miraculously spellbound by a woman putting color coordinated magazines into a color coordinated bin next to the color coordinated rug. Am I getting old? Or was I just in need of some useful information for my overstuffed apartment?

I did call in sick today. First time ever. It was snowing heavily and I still feel kind of headachy and tired and my leg was sore, so I just laid around and watched a couple of DVDs (“Hedwig and the Angry Inch” and “American Splendor”). I also started re-arranging all the stuff under my kitchen table. I want to be able to do some painting and artwork at home and my kitchen table is the only place I can do it and that was accomplished. I can now get my legs under the table without stomping on any of my canvases or knocking over records.

Next on the agenda? Slaying a few dragons at work.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty