Detective work

I'm reading the archives of Nina's blog, both to catch up on what I missed, and to try to track back exactly when I gave up on the blogs that used to be both a voice and a community for me. It looks like I stopped commenting, so probably also stopped reading, in July 2009. Which coincides quite nicely with when Nina stopped posting as frequently, so there's that.

But I also notice that I only posted 15 times in all of 2009, and only four times since April of that year. What happened then to cause the decline? I didn't get on Fakebook until summer of 2010, so that didn't replace the blog in my affections.

Could it be when the Billionaire broke my heart, that decimated my writerly efforts? Or was it just that everyone stopped blogging fora while there? Were there other significant shifts or losses to my personality, my identity, around that time?

More study is needed.

Radio Free Maggie

These song lyrics used to make me weep every time I heard them:

Cath, she stands with a well intentioned-man
But she can’t relax with his hand on the small of her back
And as the flashbulbs burst she holds a smile
Like someone would hold a crying child

And soon everybody will ask what became of you
When your heart was dying fast and you didn’t know what to do

Cath, it seems that you live in someone else’s dream
In a hand-me-down wedding dress with the things that could've been all repressed
But you said your vows and you closed the door
On so many men who would’ve loved you more

And soon everybody will ask what became of you
When your heart was dying fast and you didn’t know what to do
The whispers that it won’t last roll up and down the pews
But if their hearts were dying that fast they’d have done the same as you
And I’ve done the same as you

But I heard it recently on the radio, and not a single tear. I was actually able to enjoy the song!

It made me realize just how miserable I was when I was dating B. I was so terrified that the above would be my fate -- to marry someone I didn't love enough, just because it was expected and I thought I didn't have any better options. And now I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

Can PTSD be a good thing? I'm definitely having weird feelings and reactions as I sort out what had been happening, but I don't think they are bad reactions or feelings. It's sort of like being Rolfed, or untying a big tangled knot.

So for any of you beloved folks who have wanted to hate him on my behalf, please don't. He did me a huge favor, and got me out of a bad situation that I refused to leave on my own. (Though I love you dearly for having my back, of course!)

Shades of Bridget Jones

On Saturday, I felt a bit like dear Bridget when the neighborhood women and I gathered to ooh and ahh over the newest baby on the street. Cameron's mom got married in her late 30s after a marathon of internet dating, and then needed fertility intervention to have her two kids. The other women, moms all, got married very young and had less than no trouble getting pregnant (more like trouble preventing their pregnancies).

The Young Moms swooned over the baby. Then they started joking about how their ovaries hurt, and speculating on the baby boom that Cameron's arrival would trigger in the neighborhood. Because, you see, everyone can have babies, right? Why, certainly, no one in that very room has had trouble getting pregnant, right? Definitely not half the women in the room at that very moment, RIGHT?!?!

On the verge of tears, I got up to leave. Cameron's mom saw the look on my face and quickly tried to change the subject to something more encouraging and less... insensitive.

"Maggie, I meant to tell you! Remember my friend Camille, the one who had her son by insemination? She's engaged!"

Apparently this friend of hers, who had a child on her own three years ago when she was 39, has been swept up in a whirlwind romance with a 35-year-old she met through work. He loves her, he loves her son, the son is already calling him "Dad," and they're getting married in May.

At which point the traditionally more cluelessly insulting (truly, I don't think she means to be hurtful, I think she's just an idiot) Young Mom chimed in:
"Ooh, it's like some urban myth from Sex and the City; you always hear about women who get married in their 30s but you know they don't really exist. But now you actually know one, so maybe there is hope after all!"

I left. Cam's mom left with me, and let me have a good cry on the sidewalk before I went home. Seriously, it's like a scene from Bridget Jones, where the Smug Marrieds treat us like a different species or something.

Maybe I need more "Sex and the City" after all, and less Bridget. Certainly New York Magazine thinks this is a fine time for Singletons in New York.

Hmm, and George wants to see a movie tonight, how interesting....

(Also, the Captain checked in on me last night, but that has nothing whatsoever to do with marriage and babies, in any order.)

Raptors on Hoverboards

Oh, yeah, that's my hometown, baybee. I don't get the reference, but it just seems to make sense anyway.

I know a lot of you have been worried about me because there's been radio silence on this here board for several weeks. And I won't lie to you, it's been a shitty time. My ex turned out to be a Jekyll and Hyde asshole, who had been lying to me for the better part of 2008. And G doesn't exactly want to marry me quite as much as I do him. Happy Holidays, indeed.

But in rough times, your true friends are there for you, being awesome. And I have to say, I've been blessed with some very very supportive folks who have taken excellent care of me -- lending an ear as I go on and on, taking me out to entertain and distract me, giving me a port in the storm to escape to, or just rocking out. Big hugs and love to Jay, Trilby, Lynn, Tussy, Andrew, Jane, Denise, Josh, Jess, Jonathan, Margaret, Michael, Jason, Kendra, Ellie, Rodger, Isabel, Amanda, Brian, Ian, Zanne, Ron, Carlos, Pierrette, David, Simona, and my folks. I don't know how I would have kept my head above water without you all. But I do know that would never even be something to worry about, because I'll always have you close to my heart.

I'm off to New Haven this week, to ring in a well-deserved new year with old friends, in fine fashion and with many bubbles. I wish you all the best, and I look forward to catching up more soon.

quantum of silence

I kind of really want to fill you all in on what's happening, but I promised to keep it to myself until Thanksgiving. And since blogging publicly would be the antithesis of keeping my word, I'm trying to stay on the high road.

I can tell you this. Tuesday was a momentous, historic day. I'm still walking on air over how well the election went (aside from Prop 8 in Cali, of course). Tuesday was also my 38th birthday, and the morning was one solid outpouring of well-wishing and love. It was amazing, really.

In the evening, however, a few disappointments marred the memory. First, someone who I've always tried to treat with respect, fairness and consideration lashed out at me with complete disregard, selfishness, disdain and disrespect. Rationally, I know that he's just trying get a reaction from me. But I expected better, and I'm disappointed and sad at his behavior.

Much later, when the full force of what happened earlier struck me and I didn't really want to be alone, I called a couple of friends who I figured would still be awake, told them something bad had happened and asked if I could stop by. They both said no. On my birthday, when I was hurting. I don't like to have to beg for attention, but I think I need to be more clear about when I need help, instead of pridefully acting like everything is fine.

So now I'm telling you all. I will be fine, in general all is well and the future looks good. But right now, no, I am not fine. I'm let down, and sad for lost hope and faith, right in the middle of this beautiful rosy time when I should be exuberant. So please take it under advisement.

And I promise to fill you in with the details when I can, once it's acceptable to do so.

Not all boys are evil

Of course, you knew that. I'm just being a little inflammatory for fun.

Last night, George and I went to the WFNX Heaven or Hell/1988 Prom/Halloween party at the Harp. Total blast, of course. But we're old, so eventually we had to take a break from dancing and sit down.

Separated in the crowd, I sat at a table in the corner and waited for him to find me. From there I could see him come into the back room, look around, not see me ... and then start talking to a young, cute, petite blonde. Officially I'm "not the jealous type" (at least that's what it says on my driver's license), so I watched for a few minutes, but then I got tired of waiting for him and walked over.

As soon as I approached, his face lit up and he put his arm around me as he introduced me to the promo girl handing out leather-bound thumbdrives. They were pretty big and clunky, and the 500 MGs wasn't nearly enough space to make it worth carrying one around. But he'd felt bad because no one would stop for her pitch at a party where everyone wanted Bacardi light-up devil horns.

I know there's been radio silence for a while. And you may have questions about the cast of characters. I'm sorry about that. But I'm trying to keep mum for another month or so, just until things sort themselves out. Until then, just rest assured that everything is fine (if incredibly busy), and that I'm very happy.

The Great Boston Lobster Bake

Forget about the Boston Tea Party -- there are tons of steamed lobsters right outside my office at this very moment. Where are the vats of drawn butter?

The most excellent Hook family owners vow to rebuild after blaze destroys landmark seafood business. And I believe they will, and quickly. Better, stronger than before even. Behold, the next-generation bionic lobster company!

What particularly saddens me at the moment is that something "devoured 60,000 pounds of lobster...", and it wasn't me.

I'm guessing arson. That lobster pound sat smack in the middle of some prime waterfront real estate, in the hottest development area in town. And the Hooks have fought to stay there before.

There's another possibility, though, one too terrible to believe. Could it be my fault? Could this be another one of my mystical powers?

You see, I recently gave up lobster. (Yes, I know that report says I can have it as often as three times a month, but considering the massive quantities I've eaten in my lifetime, I figure I'm probably already way over my personal quota. I mean, it's not like the mercury ever leaves your system.)

So, I give up lobster, and then my fave lobster place burns to the ground. This would be merely a coincidence, if it weren't for the Raven bar in New York. I used to celebrate my birthday at the Raven every year, and there were many other messy celebrations. But right after I accepted the job in Boston and prepared to move, the Raven burned down and was shuttered.

Honestly, what kind of superpower is this? Nothing I love can live on after I leave it? (wait, don't ask any of my ex-boyfriends about that one...)

Well if the Raven has hopes to rebuild, then maybe we can still hold out hope that the Hook family will persevere. In the meantime, any intrepid souls with scuba gear in the mood for some smoky lobster bisque?

More female trouble

A bit of stream of consciousness about something that's been making me feel creepy all day. Summarized from an IM with my darling bf:

Last St. Patrick's day, we were all at the bar, and the Lumberjack was there with his new undergrad girlfriend, who he'd met at a party in January. And I was sad, cried later, because it was the nail in the coffin that nothing was ever going to happen with us.

But it wasn't just that. There was something else that night that made me sad.
The Storm.

Storm had been friends with the Usual Suspects before I'd moved back home and met all these hooligans. Also, the Lumberjack used to cheat on his last girlfriend with her, but as far as I ever heard, they'd never actually dated for real. Since then, there had been some kind of falling out between Storm and the U.S., but she was still friends with 'Jack. But because of the circumstances, everything was hazy and unspoken by the time I started meeting these people.

I met Storm because 'Jack started bringing her to PubNight. Again, no one was talking, really, neither 'Jack nor the U.S., but as I understood it, 'Jack wasn't taking part in the falling out/shunning, so he brought his friend out, with no apologies nor explanations.

Now,
1. I liked her, she made a good first impression
2. I like 'Jack, and as such wanted to be friends with his friends, and know what's going on in his life. So I talked to her, we hit it off. And I want to make my own judgment about this new person I've met.

But she lives far away, and only seems to come to the area with him. So I'm beginning to notice that indeed, she is a little fucked up; the U.S aren't totally off-base. But still, I want to judge on my own.

Turns out Storm is still hung up on the Lumberjack. But she also has this boyfriend up where she lives. So she's been sublimating her romantic feelings into a friendship, like you do.

ANYway...
St. Pat's day, at the bar. Most of the Usual Suspects are there, as are 'Jack and his undergrad, and Storm and her guy, and me. The Undergrad is stuck to 'Jack like glue, and taking every opportunity to point out that he is HERS. While 'Jack pulls her aside to tell her to Chill, Storm asks me who the hell that is. I explain that she's 'Jack's new teeniebopper girlfriend, and Storm FLIPS OUT.

This is a woman with a boyfriend.

So part of the reason I was so sad after St. Paddy's was that I looked at Storm, who was the "other woman" for this guy with no honest and public relationship coming of it, and who now had a boyfriend and was still hung up on him. And I said to myself, "I do not want to be this woman. I tried, it didn't work, I need to move on. I deserve better."

And I mourned a little, but I did move on.

I also found out that night that Storm was moving back to the area -- in fact, right around the corner from me! So we'd exchanged phone numbers, and said we were going to hang out. She was supposed to move April 1.

The first week in April, she calls me, says "sorry I haven't checked in yet, turns out I'm moving April 15, everything's a mess."
I'm all, that's cool; let me know when you're settled in.
And then, she starts grilling me on 'Jack and the undergrad.
She's bullshit; starts in all -- APPARENTLY he's not her friend anymore, APPARENTLY he doesn't value her, if he's keeping these secrets from her. She says she HAS a boyfriend, she doesn't NEED 'Jack, et cetera.

I try to calm her, try to dissociate, get off the phone. She says she'll call me after she moves and settles in, and I don't here from her ever again.
That was almost exactly a year ago.

Since then, Storm always comes up when I run the Friend Finder on Facebook, but I never friend her, because she's not my friend. Today, when I ran it, though, something caught my eye.

Storm's new profile pic is a picture of her in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown...
with last year's boyfriend next to her....
and she's holding a newborn.

Yup, they had a baby a month ago.

So basically, she gave up on the Lumberjack, and got knocked up in short order.

Way to move on!

Honestly, this is great for her, she looks happy, and moving on was clearly the right thing to do. And she's engaged to the baby's father.

But I can't help it, the timing of it just makes me go ew ew ew.

Am I right? B says that's a fucked up story, full of fucked up people and fucked up decisions and fucked up emotions, and yes, ew.

I've been creeped out all day, so just wanted to share. (though I know this is not the breeding story I have been promising you, sorry...)

Hell is for children, not me!

And who would have ever thought it, hmmm? Good thing my dear Reader Nina clued me in to this fun test...

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!

Your fate has been decided....
You are one of the lucky ones! Because of your virtue and beliefs, you have escaped eternal punishment. You are sent to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!

First Level of Hell - Limbo

Charon ushers you across the river Acheron, and you find yourself upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. You are in Limbo, a place of sorrow without torment. You encounter a seven-walled castle, and within those walls you find rolling fresh meadows illuminated by the light of reason, whereabout many shades dwell. These are the virtuous pagans, the great philosophers and authors, unbaptised children, and others unfit to enter the kingdom of heaven. You share company with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle. There is no punishment here, and the atmosphere is peaceful, yet sad.


Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

Breastfeeding: The Latest Refuge of Scoundrels - from The Huffington Post

Can you imagine if an employer did not allow employees to go to the bathroom? If they said, if you want to pee, then you should stay home?

Breastfeeding is a natural and vitally important function of our bodies. It's a testament to how well we are designed. And you know what else? Childbirth is nothing short of a miracle. I'm amazed almost every day that mothers are not treated like gods walking on earth.

In short, breastfeeding breaks, decent childcare at the office, and decent maternity leave. NOW, please.

(Also, no, I'm still not pregnant, if you were wondering. And I don't really want to talk about it yet. Soon.)

OMG, Verizon, WTF?!?!

If you're wondering how I scored that sweet simian phone number -- Verizon totally owed me, and they were trying to make good.

With the boyfriend almost 3,000 miles away, clocking double-digit hours on the phone each week, the cell wasn't cutting it anymore. So in early August, after five years of wireless-only, I decided to get a land line again. I went to the Verizon website, they have an order wizard, I crossed all the Ts and dotted the Is, and I was told that I would have service set up by August 13. As part of the process, they even gave me a selection of five (totally ordinary, non-primate-themed) numbers to choose from.

The 13th came and went -- no dial tone. As my phone was about a dozen years old, I figured that was the problem, and borrowed one that my folks weren't using. No dial tone. I ordered a new one from Amazon... no dial tone! So on the 17th, I call for service, and I'm told that my line was turned on, as scheduled, on the 13th, and they'd closed the order. But they can't get through to me; when the woman in the service department calls, she gets a recording that my number is not in service. So she files a repair ticket, and assures me that the line will be working by Monday the 20th.

No dial tone. And when I call again for service, I can't access my account! After about an hour on the phone and many transfers to multiple departments, I discover that they'd changed the phone number on my account, which is why I couldn't access it anymore. They wouldn't even tell me the new number until I got escalated to a manager.

It took three weeks, a service visit to the house, a bucket truck, and several more phone calls to Verizon before I actually got a working dial tone. However, they had no problem sending me a bill, a full two weeks before my phone was actually working. After all that grief, they gave me a free month of service, and the phone number of my choice, to make up for the fiasco. Good work, I say, apology accepted.

And then...

The broken dial tone reminded me that I had no idea how to access my voice mail. It had been weeks since they'd set up my account, they sent me a bill right on schedule, but I have yet to receive some sort of welcome pack with critical info such as what number to dial to pick up my messages.

So I call AGAIN, they apologize AGAIN, and give me the set-up info. This morning, I dial in, I have one message. This message:

Good afternoon, this is Verizon with good news about your recent home voice mail order. You can begin using your home voice mail as soon as you set up your voice mailbox. You'll need your access number, which is [silence, NOT redacted, they just didn't say it]. At your earliest convenience, please call Verizon for important information about how to set up your home voicemail. The toll-free number to call, anytime day or night, is XXX-XXX-XXXX, and at the main menu, press 6.

It is Verizon's goal to provide you with outstanding service. If we can improve our service to you in any way, please call Verizon toll-free during normal business hours [note they don't say when their business ours are] at XXX-XXX-XXXX, where a representative will be happy to help you.

OMG, Verizon, WTF?!?!

Okay, I get that the recording was meant for a person who actually answered the phone, which I had not.

But they're VERIZON, the phone company. You would thing that they could have set up their automated message system to not leave a message on voice mail when calling about setting up voice mail, and instead trigger a command to either:
a. call back later,
or
b. call my alternate (cell phone) number, which they have asked me for multiple times and should have on record with my account.

Regardless, they have given me the best phone number ever, so I guess I'll forgive them this one more time. Sigh.

but on the plus side...

(I keep thinking of really clever titles, but then as soon as I set down to type up a post -- whoosh, they're gone, and you're left with cliches...)

As I was saying, the good side of heartbreak keeps showing up:
1. Feeling something is good.
2. Although it would seem to be too soon for the nausea to be having any effect, my pants are way looser this morning.
3. Started working on a long-dormant screenplay again today, and also have a book idea to work on with my intern. We are going to be such a cute, charming and telegenic pair that everyone will want us on their talk shows. And you know that talk-show circuit = Green room hanging = meeting cute with My Husband backstage.
4. I feel gorgeous. And it's not just me who thinks so -- I've been complimented on both my hair and my teeth today, by two people. And the teeth got lots of attention yesterday too! Heartbreak is the latest whitening advance; someone tell Crest!

To stick with the theme, I was At the Good Pain for lunch today.

Tears of a Clown

Woke up nauseated. And hot-faced.
Cried in the shower again. Hoping I won't do that at work.
For now, the interns are taking care of me, giving me pep talks and letting me figuratively cry on their shouldners over IM.

But as miserable as I am, it's good to know that I still have a heart to break. I've had my share of crushes over the years, but I can't remember the last time I acutally cried over losing a guy. In a strange way, it feels good to be hurting like this.

Beware the fucking Ides of March

I have an ancestor who was a general in Julius Caesar's army. It must be his blood; I always have trouble on the Ides.

And the day is living up to the terrible expectations:

• After a crappy date (he didn't even know what the Ides of March is), I fell asleep on the couch, as Siena needed some cuddling. Woke up at 6:45 this morning
  
• Went to bed because I feel it's important to spend some time in my bed each night. Overslept.
  
• Went straight to the paper, as I didn't have time to stop by my office first. Parked in front as
  
  
  1. I don't work there and I am allowed to use that guest parking
     
  2. I was only going to be there for 20 minutes.
  
  Regardless, I got yelled at by the front desk guy, who threatened to have me towed because I didn't park in back.
  
• Calendar staff got mad at me because their work is STILL not exporting correctly into the website. Like I'm not already miserable about this and have been trying to get it fixed for months-- now they're yelling at me too?
  
• Late for meeting with traffic folks, my car got ticketed, and I was cranky during the meeting. But I pulled it together, and was charming enough that they want to give me a helicoptor ride.
  
• New seating chart has me sitting next to the guy who makes the wierd bird noises. I am appealing it to HR.
  
• The mammogram department has been trying to reach me for two days; they finaly caught me just now. They found a cyst and need me to go back and make sure everything's normal. Which it will be, I'm not worried, just annoyed. More of my time getting used up. At least they're very nice.
  
• I want the Captain, tonight (he claims to owe me a spanking; how nice to not have to be the one in charge). But haven't heard anything from him today, and he hasn't flirted since last week. Considering how things have been going today, I'd say it's not the day for a bold move on my part.

That said, I am surprisingly chipper. And so looking forward to Chez Henri tonight!