desolatejoy

Today was not the best day I've ever had. Nothing terrible really happened. Work was busy, but I managed to get everything done, against all odds. It's warm out, but a normal summer warm, not the broiler heat we've been subjected to lately.

No reason, really, to feel so unhappy. But I do.

I just feel so far from everyone. Out of touch with those I don't see, and out of sync with those I do. Even my brother and sister-in-law, my two closest family members, and wonderful friends. Even that relationship feels wonky.

Dude. It's a little lonely.

But I think it's within me, the way I'm feeling lately. I just talked to two of my friends today, and they were both behaving normally. And it was so great to speak with them. So the issue really is my issue. I am a lovely mix of social awkwardness, neediness and insecurity. I just can't win with that combo. And neither can anyone around me.

But how to fight it off? I come by it honestly, from my father. Of all things to inherit, right? Why couldn't I have inherited his skinny gene, so I could actually fit into skinny jeans?

Maybe it will go away with time. Maybe this is one more manifestation of losing a parent - going out of my gourd.

I know no one will see this - but I'm posting to test a theory. I'm going to treat this post like a piece of paper that I will burn - maybe if I put it out here, it will leave me. I'm crossing all my crossables that it works.

I'm having one of those days.

It's not particularly busy, or annoying. Work is moving at a reasonable pace, and the stupids are laying low today. I'm not annoyed or angry or frustrated.  What I AM, though, is suffering from a bad case of wanderlust. Really bad. This is one of those days when I wish I was somewhere else. Somebody else. In a different land, walking different roads and talking to different people. Seeing new things and worrying about different troubles.

Where the hell does it come from? It's not just a wimpy wish for a Get Out of Jail card. Really. If that was the case, wouldn't it happen on my worst days, when work and home and friends and family are as dissatisfying as they can be? It's almost as if there's somewhere I need to be. Maybe even several somewheres. Strange places pop into my head, locales so vibrant that I'm sure I've been there, even as the realist in me knows differently. And the longing almost chokes me.

Wet, hard-packed sand firm under my feet as I walk a long strand on the west coast of Ireland. I can feel the ground under my feet. I know how a handful of the fine mud will feel in my hand.

A field of wheat just barely stirring, its size so gargantuan that I can't wrap my mind around it, and yet somehow I know how large it is. I've seen the grey clouds rolling across that landscape before, a different storm at an earlier date.

Vast forests surround me as I stand at the open peak of a mountain, face thrust forward into the screaming wind scaling the crest of the rocks, boulders secure under me. I tip my head back and let the wind stream over me, and fight the urge to yell into it. I've been here. I belong here.

I could assume that these are all places I've seen in a book, or online. I'm a big surfer of both types of media. But how to explain the painful squeeze of my heart when these places burst into my head? Is it just a thirst for locations that are wild and open? Maybe. I live in an urban setting, so the thought of open spaces is very appealing.

But is that really all it is? I'm not sure. What I am sure of, though, is that the desire to be there never really goes away. Maybe it's the anonimity I crave. No one to see you; no one to see. An unimportant speck, making no impression; passing through but never on.

So I sigh for the four-hundred thirty-seventh time today, and wait for something. If I was a brave person I would get up from my desk, walk out to my truck and drive away. And keep going. But I'm not. I have family and friends I love dearly, and responsibilities that I will not abandon. So I wait. But the something I wait for is not the courage to take that first step. It's the moment when the feeling ebbs that I wait for. That feeling will go, as it has many times before. But it will come back, as it has many times before. Until then, I will happily put-put along in my life and let the intensity fade until it's as if it never happened.

Until the next time.

I thought I was going to get my Dorothy moment in the afternoon - it started getting dark, so I fired up the radar and took a gander. Not so good. I then checked the watches and warnings in the state - there was a tornado warning about three counties north of us, and we were under a severe thunderstorm warning. A little extra kick with this storm, though - sixty mph winds, nickel-sized hail, and the weather service was reporting weak rotation within the storm. Not so good at all. Rotation = possible tornado.

So now I trotted (okay, shuffled - I'm fat, what can I say?) over to the window. Black as pitch. Great. Things are getting better and better. As it starts to pour I start to watch the mid-size trees  around the parking lot. Everything's normal - or as normal as a kick-ass storm like this can be - until, all of a sudden, the trees bend over at a 45 degree angle. Steady - no gusts. And the rain is flying dead sideways. Now, I don't live in the midwest, but I love watching weather. This is the inflow of the rotation. Like rotation trying to become a tornado. And now I'm ready to get in the stairwell. It's the strongest area in our office building, as it's solid metal. I peer in the direction the wind is going to see if there is anything there, but nothing is visible from this side of the building.

Meanwhile, it's still raining. So much so that the water is bursting up through the manhole grate with enough force that it looks like a fountain. Yeah. This is ark weather. Finally, the wind stops acting sick and wrong and starts acting normal again, and the sky lightens. Phew. Back to work. Close call, that.

Little did I know that I hadn't yet had my close call for the day.

A couple of hours later I'm on my way home and it's storming again. Bad - AGAIN. While driving on the Parkway I'm blinded several times by intense, close, cloud-to-ground lightning. I swear my retinas are seared, it's so bright. And the rain is torrential. I make my way safely the the traffic light leading into my neighborhood. And my vision turns completely blue from a insane flash. When I can see again I realize that the traffic light isn't working. Damn.

I carefully make a right onto the highway and pull right into the shopping center parking lot while calling 911. Parking in the corner, I watch the light quickly go from dead to flashing to working, and I'm in mid-sentence with the 911 operator when a chick in an SUV pulls out onto the intersection and it happens. She gets HAMMERED by a guy flying down the highway. Spins her right around so she's facing the direction from which she'd just come. The other guy flies diagonally through the intersection and off the road. Calmly, I relate the new development to the operator (Being a PD dispatcher for 6 years pretty much gave me nerves of steel) and try not to curse at him when he asks if anyone is inujured. (I know they have to ask, but DUH!) I think I said something along the lines of:

"Dude - no one is getting out of their cars - this lightning is ferocious right now. I think it's safe to say they're hurt. Oh, and you'll need a flatbed - that SUV isn't driving anywhere."

They really did need a flatbed, too. The front of the SUV was completely gone, in about fifty pieces all across the intersection.  After about 3-4 minutes (I'm sure they were swamped with other calls, that storm was a bitch), the cops came flying in from every direction, full blast. What did I use to call it? Oh yeah. Blinky blinky woo woos. Heh.

Anyhoo, after making sure they didn't need me, I wound a circuitous route home, trying not to think about the fact that the girl in the SUV got to that intersection only 60 seconds after I did. I feel like a cat, today. And I think I'll stay in - I seem to be a disaster magnet today. Hopefully none of the people were hurt too badly - I know at least one went to the hospital.

Yep - gonna stay in tonight.

Found a couple of particularly touching photos, listening to Jackson 5 this morning.

 

Sweet little boy.

 

Rockin’ the threads.

 

This one’s a little eerie…

 If there's a heaven, I like to think that THIS is the MJ that's up there. Before all the self-mutilation and eccentric behavior and isolation.

Gonna miss the little tyke.

I, lucky girl that I am, just received a brandie-new attic fan, installed for me by my brother (the hippie), who is a carpenter extraordinaire. It will help cool my house, and since I refuse to pay a monstrous electric bill and thus have no air conditioning, the fan was a necessity. Very excited about this!

Well, except for the fact that it's really, really loud. So loud that it sounds like some ancient prop plane made an emergency stop on my roof. What the hell?

My parent's fan is almost noiseless, as is my brother's. Why is mine so loud? Big bro has some ideas, chief among them balancing the blade so that there is no wobbling. If that doesn't work, he and I and his wife will go back to the local Mega-lo-Hardware behemoth and try to exchange for a better fan. My sis-in-law is particularly good at that kind of thing. Kind of a bloodless kill, when she goes to work returning something. We bought the fan a year ago? No problem. No receipt? Don't worry about it. She'll have them eating out of her hand in fifteen minutes. General Patton had nothing on her.

If only I'd known that it was going to be so loud, I would have insisted that the fan be put in on the side of the house facing the Trashleys. The opportunity to drive them nuts is nearly overwhelming. However, the Trashleys are a story for another day. And boy is it a story...

I know the fan'll be fixed soon, I'm just hoping it'll be before the real doggie summer days hit us. Sweat and I haven't spoken in quite some time, and I'd prefer to keep it that way!

So. I have to go to work tomorrow, July 3. No one else does, just me. I'm vacillating between annoyance at this fact and a sense of zen about the whole thing. I mean, it sucks, of course, but I'll be alone, no pressure, I can get work done without the stupid interruptions from stupid people about stupid issues. I don't have to talk to anybody, which, heh, let's be honest, is a dream come true for my inner hermit. Also, I get to blast the radio at phenomenally loud levels, which is always a big draw for me. You haven't lived until you've composed a clearance letter with Bob Marley blasting in the background. Ya, mon.

Ah, the memories.

That makes me wonder about the people at work, and the music they choose to listen to while they work. Co-worker A is a diehard Broadway fan, and that's all he ever listens to at work. Co-worker B is hardcore easy listening.

Just shoot me in the head right now.

It's not that I hate either of those genres. I don't. I love all music. Yes, that includes death metal and classical. To listen to only one type of music, day in and day out? Can't do it. Can't make me do it.

I need the furious rantings of Rage Against the Machine when everyone I talk to is screwing with me, cool classic jazz when I'm so inundated with files that the top of my skull is lifting straight off of my head. Nikka Costa sees me through the happier times, her funky soul vibe just trippy enough to match my giddy mood. Lisa Gerrard when I'm feeling thoughtful and introspective, and the office is a bit quiet. Susan Tedeschi is perfect when the phones are turned off at the end of the day and I can crank the volume just to hear her wail.

Tell me I can only listen to one type of music, and you might as well tell me I can only eat one type of food. I won't thank you for that, either.

You know what they say about variety, spice of life, yadda yadda...well, monotony is it's novocaine, then. How can you possibly know if there's anything else out there you'd like if you never listen to anything else? Even more important, how do you listen to the same type of music ad infinitum without wanting to fling yourself through the office window? Moods change, and the music you listen to should change as well. Even if you don't discover anything new, at least you can wake your brain up a little bit.

Having said that, if I don't get some sleep my brain will be mush. I should get something done at work tomorrow - ah, today, that is. Crud.

Guess today will be a Led Zeppelin day. Got some serious led/lead to get out of my system. And there's nothing like Robert howling about Valhalla to get the blood stirring.