Every bad thing that’s happened to me had been previously thought of by me and wished on someone else.  I don’t believe that my wishing was the cause of the “bad things” exactly, but it is a phenomenon I’ve decided to experiment with.  I’m going to wish good things for people who get on my nerves or who I don’t like.  This will be a long-term project, at least a year.  If the past is a pattern, I should win the lottery or be successful or happy beyond all imagined happiness by the end of the year.

Most of my past wishes haven’t been horrible.  My most frequent wish wasn’t even conscious.  I had a vague desire for those around me to stay in a holding pattern, to not make any changes in their lives, while I soar.  When I see these people, friends and family, they tell me about the normal things in their lives.  They ask me what I’ve been doing and I say “Nothing.”  And it’s the truth.  I’m stagnant.  I had a burst of activity in the past year, but even that seems to be peetering out.  Besides wishing good for others, I think I should stop wishing anything for myself.  I should focus on doing.

Michelle Shocked’s song “Come a Long Way” has a line that talks about stopping by a gallery and getting a cup of coffee.  When I got to that part this weekend, I was totally blown away.  Imagine!  Buying a cup of coffee!  At an art gallery, no less.  That would set a person back five dollars at least.  I would have to plan ahead a couple of weeks for such an expenditure. 

Yes, I’m horribly poor. 

I should be comforted by the fact that the woman in the song is trying to outrun a repo man after her motorcycle.  I have neither cool bike nor java.  Nor credit good enough to buy either. 

Here’s what I’ve been listening to: 

Fashionably Uninvited   Mellowdrone               

Lazy Eye                      SilverSun Pickups

Deep Red Bells            Neko Case

Dream All Day             Posies

All That I Know           Screaming Trees

Spit on a Stranger         Pavement  

I’ve been very sad recently and I blame it on the first song on my list; “Fashionably Uninvited.”  It reminds me of being single and wanting love and wanting someone to sing a song like that about me.  Or for me to sing it about someone else.  Feeling like this again after 13 years of marriage is disheartening. 

Goin’ Against Your Mind               Build to Spill

Scotty’s Lament                             Connells

Everlong                                        Foo Fighters

We’ve had some talks, and he knows I’m not happy.  We’re close, very close.  I wish we could have a sibling relationship and stop trying to be a couple.  He’s not going to love me like that again.  He’d still save my life, but he’d complain about it afterwards. 

Second choice job was going ok when first choice job finally, finally called and that’s where I am now.  I’m so happy to be here!  2nd place was across the street from my old job from many years ago and I was terrified of running into former coworkers.  I imagined them gathering around me like sharks, but it’s more likely I would have been ignored or vaguely remembered. 

My first obsession with the past took place when I was 21.  I used to agonize over life right out of high school and the things I did and people I knew.  At 21!  The time I now remember as being the best time ever!  I started obsessing about those early 90’s times after I had a kid.  They really were the best.  I regret not relishing them, but I thought they would last forever.  I thought I had finally gotten comfortable in my skin and figured out the world.  I pined over them for years. 

Over the past couple of years, I’ve pined over those years.  The boring years.  The steady job, husband, house, kid years.  I whined and tried to find myself and spent money.  Everyday I spent money on things that are extravagant to me  now like magazine and lattes.  I ate out every single day.  I miss that.  I miss always have a couple of twenties to blow when the opportunity came up. 

Things would have to be really bad for me to later miss the right-now.  I’ll have to be paralyzed or imprisoned.  Things are better now than they had been (I miss Knoxville, but am glad to be out) and I feel I’m on the right track.  I’m excited about the future now and not thinking of the past much at all. 

Tina Fey is the coolest person in the world.  I wish she lived near me and we could be buddies and hang out.  We wouldn’t do much.  We’d make big plans to go out and paint the town.  Then we’d decide it was too hard and we’d order a pizza and stay in to watch tv.  We’d shop together and go to movies.  We’d complain about pop culture while soaking it up.  There’d be a lot of IMing. 

She’s so cute, in her glasses and layered tops on 30 Rock.  I haven’t figured out how we’d meet.  Maybe we could be sequestered together for jury duty.  With no one else to talk to, eventually she’d like me.  She’d see we have a lot in common and we’d stay friends for life. 

BTW, todays my last day at work.  There’s food and gifts.  Monday starts the new life.

My parents have the cutest furry animal ever.  It’s a baby pygmy goat, raised on a bottle.  It’s colored like a tabby cat and is the size of a puppy.  We’ve named it Sprite.  It likes to jump in your lap and snuggle.  I have a picture of it, but it’s not digital so I can’t upload it.

 Anyway, this is my last week at work and my manager has decided I no longer exist.  She’s giving my work to the girl who is taking my place, but I am not allowed to help this girl (Leigh Anne).  She wants me to answer phones (Leigh Anne’s job) while Leigh Anne researches textbook orders (my job).  I’m so pissed!  I want to walk out, quit early. 

I had been looking forward to training Leigh Anne.  I had made notes of the tricky parts of the job and of shortcuts I’ve come up with.  Traditionally the person leaving this job trains the next in line.  But Shirley (evilly stupid manager) has usurped that role. 

I can’t do anything about my predicament (other than be obstinate and cause little problems here and there).  All I can do is look at the picture of Baby Sprite.  It calms me down.  Ah, precious baby goat. 

I’m not in a work mood today.  I’m on the clock and at my desk, but haven’t done anything job related in about an hour.  It’ll be harder to get away with shit like this at my next job.  I have to take advantage of it while I can. 

On the radio there’s a song that sounds like Robin Hitchcock, but it’s not.  Some group called Tulleycraft.  Hmmm.  Maybe I will work a while.  Until I can think of something worth writing about.

 Nope, nothing comes to mind.  Going to meet with my professor in a bit to talk about the final touches for my story.  I’m excited about it.  I think I’ll be able to make something with it. 

I will not be moving to Chattanooga at the end of December, I’ll be moving at the end of November.  Before my class is officially done, before my going away party, before.  I haven’t told my boss I’m leaving yet.  The 2nd choice job called and made an offer and I accepted.  I’m still hoping the 1st choice job will call, but that probably won’t happen.  Someone who works for 1st Choice was in earlier (because it’s the same system, different location).  She was wearing a black hippy-dippy fairy dress and a turquoise blazer.  It looked much worse than it sounds.  All I could think was, “She’s acceptable and I’m not?”  

 Marilyn Kallet has a poem where she compares making a transition to a photograph of Niagara Falls.  She asks a question and feels that she is in the moment of the picture with the mighty water paralyzed.  The answer brings it back to life and she’s drowned in the deluge.  That’s where I am now.  Wanting to stay in a single moment and never go forward.   This isn’t what I planned on writing about at all.  Fuck.

Because I’m moving back to Chattanooga, I’ve been thinking about some of the people I used to know and wondering what they’ve been up to.  It’s been pretty easy to find blogs and message boards where these people participate.  I read them and they make me feel like a ghost, watching the world going by without participating.  Sometimes I want to reach out and make contact, but so far I haven’t.  A couple of years ago, I stumbled on a very personal blog belonging to someone I had once been close to.  I sent him a very heartfelt email.  Not only did he not respond, but he took down the personal comments.  

 I was pretty awful before I left.  I’m torn between wanting people to see me as I am now, a functional, vibrant person and wanting to start over with new people and a new life.  I’m a little afraid of slipping back into my bad old habits. 

 The dream scenario would be like the end of Pan’s Labyrinth.  I would enter a room full of people who saw me at my worst and they would be applauding the new me.  Then I would wave dramatically and go on into the light.