Hello three day weekend.
I earned it.
Even with it being a short week at work, it was crazy.
Cookie monster crazy.
The littlest guy turns four this weekend and I was the cookie making queen.
I made cookies for the birthday part, I’m not sure how many dozens, but it was a lot.
“You have such self-will,” the mom said, in awe as I slid the hot cookies off the spatula onto the lined counters to cool off.
I’m not so sure about that.
I think that’s called self-will run riot.
I have no self-control.
Hence just give me fucking more.
More attention, more sex, more money, more attention, wait, I already said that, more please.
Are you thinking about me?
Why aren’t you thinking about me?
I don’t think you’re thinking about me enough.
Fuck my mother.
My brain is the lotus of the crazy, but fortunately, I know I’m crazy.
“You got to watch for the ones who don’t think they’re insane,” a person once told me.
I know I’m crazy.
And I’m completely cool with it.
I’m exactly the person I’m suppose to be and I have a solution for the crazy.
Some folks do different things than I do and that’s cool too, I just do what works for me, eleven and a half years in, it seems to be doing just fine.
I don’t have to be perfect.
Thank fucking God.
And I have no will power, the choice was just taken from me and I’m fine with that too, if I thought I had some control over things I would still be out there trying to figure it out.
Figure it out works for shit.
I can still fall into it.
I fell into a little today.
I called my person and confirmed that we were meeting this weekend, I get to see two of my people this weekend, because this crazy takes a village, and I’m super psyched for that.
I also have a coffee date with a friend of mine from school on Sunday at Trouble.
Because who doesn’t want to get into a little Trouble now and then.
I know I do.
Saturday and Sunday I got plans.
Monday not so much.
One commitment in the evening.
I’m debating a few things.
I may go to the new MOMA.
I have heard such good things about the new space and I have missed not being able to go to it for the last few years that it has been closed for renovation.
I’m also debating getting a membership.
I have had one a number of times.
I can get into the Guggenheim, the LACMA, the New Whitney, the MOCA, and the MOMA in New York with the membership.
Not that I have any more travel plans right now, but who knows what the year will bring.
I didn’t make it to the Guggenheim this past trip.
With the membership at the MOMA I can get another person in with me free.
The last time I was at the MOMA, I just realized was on my seven year anniversary.
I went and got this little chip with a friend at a spot in the Mission, the she and I went to the MOMA and walked through the exhibits.
That was four years ago.
Crazy so much has happened in that time.
The year or so I worked at the bicycle shop.
The six months I lived in Paris.
The not knowing what I was doing and just continuing to put one foot in front of the other.
The high school twentieth reunion.
The amends to my grandmother, my mother, my father, my sister.
All the traveling.
All the Burning Man.
All the life I have lived.
The uncertainties and the fears and showing up with bravery.
Walking through the fear and discovering yet more untapped sources of courage.
“Men of faith have courage,” it says somewhere, I don’t remember where, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
I have great faith.
I have walked through so much fear.
Graduate school anyone?
The almost was but never was unrequited romantic love.
“Who’s he,” the oldest boy asked.
“A friend,” I said, slightly wistful, but my, so nice to not have the sadness and the stabbing ache that I used to have when I looked at those photographs of our Paris trip.
The day of the week where I actually set my alarm a little early to go to yoga in the morning before I meet up with my person at Tart to Tart.
I have my alarm set.
I’ll making the commitment to myself to go to the 9 a.m. class.
Then the doing the deal and maybe hitting up a spot at 7th and Irving.
And then, well the day will be mine.
No plans for tomorrow afternoon either.
“How’s the head,” he asked, after I had calmly rattled off the things happening at work.
I laughed, “oh it’s crazy, but really it just comes down to not getting what I want in the time frame that I want it, that’s all.”
I’d like to wrap that all up in one neat package.
But the fact is, again I come back to it, I don’t need a person to complete me, although a compliment is nice, it’s just that thing I can get focused on when I feel uncomfortable with the idea of having down time.
I can get myself all booked up and busy and make busy and make like I don’t have feelings or a great big bloody heart on my sleeve.
It’s not bloody at all.
My heart tattoo has healed up quite nicely.
Today I’m not beating my heart against anything.
My life, perfectly imperfect, my heart beat, a hot flush of rose fire, beats just fine.
There is nothing wrong.
There are no problems.
Only opportunities to learn.
To love a little more.
That’s the only thing that I really need more of.