Archive for September, 2011


September 29, 2011

I finished the book!  I did all the exercises!  I did the bonuses!

Where’s the One?

Mother fucker.

Bah.  I knew that this would not work.

Who does this author think she is anyhow with all her hippie dippie love shit, anyhow?

Have you figured out, I’m pulling your leg yet?

I met the One already, remember, the One is me.  I am the One.  The One is me.  I am the love of my life, or to quote Oscar Wilde, as I oft do, “the romance of a lifetime is with one’s self”.

That’s right, Oscar.  Bring it on.

So, in my moments of self-love today I ate really yummy food.  I bought nice fruit and veggies at the Farmer’s Market today.  First really good apples of the season–Johnagold’s, simply scrumptious.  And the last of the black berries.  I just ate a bowl of the two mixed together with cinnamon and nutmeg and ginger powder and pumpkin pie spice and yogurt.  Oh, happiness in a bowl.

I also slept well, went to bed at a reasonable hour last night.  I took a shower when I got home from work because it was hot today!  I put sunblock on myself.  I drank plenty of water.  I treated myself to an iced coffee this afternoon on my walk with the girls.  I loved on the girls, who loved on me back.

I got a letter of reference from my good friend Arin for Aveda and put it with my application materials.  I did not worry about finances today.  I did cross-reference the internet bill I got for my services and found some incongruities with the service I set up, so instead of rolling over and just paying the bill, I looked at it and realized I need to call them tomorrow and nicely straighten it out.

I also ascertained how much money I have left for the month before rent and balanced my check book.

I of course, did my three pages of writing, took myself out to do the deal, and read the last lesson on Calling In The One, wrote out the exercise and did the bonus in action exercise.

Basically the last lesson was to write out a sexual ideal, to paraphrase; my list of the ideal qualities that I would look for in a mate.  I have had experience doing this before, so not much of a surprise.  I also now that the idea behind doing an ideal is to not make some sort of wish list, but to strive to become all those things upon that list to actually attract the person to you.

Fact is, I often felt as though this entire book has been one long sexual ideal exercise.  And I’m down with that.  I have done lots of work on my finances, and made lots of strides, only seems right that I do the same with romance.

I am the type of person that struggles with the two notions, finance and romance.  I used to be miffed about that, but now I just see it as countless opportunities to further grow and expand, that I will probably always get to have something to work on.

I mean, even if the One were to knock on my door right now, I would still have things in my life to strive for–getting published, establishing right relations with my nuclear family, I owe my mom a card, I can feel that, more traveling, school, deepening my spiritual practise.

I have loads of stuff yet to do.  Now, I just know that I also need a partner, at this point I feel as though I have gone as far as I can go on my own.  If that makes sense.  I feel that I need a partner to help me pursue that which is next on my journey.  I look forward to doing things with another person and for all the adventures and mis-adventures that will bring.

The last part of the suggestion for the list was to go back through what you wrote and circle the five that meant the most to you–sober, non-smoker, compassionate, loving, and spiritually connected to a loving higher power.

Who is this woman and who slipped her the granola?

I am loath to admit that the most important part was the last item.  I need someone who believes in God.  I won’t date you if you don’t.  I won’t date an atheist.  I won’t date a smoker.  No more ashtray breath kisses.  I won’t date some one that drinks, no more rotting margarita mouth breath on my face.  I will only date men who are kind, gentle, compassionate and loving.

I know they exist.  They have just been waiting for me to get with the program.

I also will not date “potential”.  The, he-would-be-such-a-great-guy-to-date-if-only-he-changed-these-fifteen-things-about-himself guy.

I have done the work.  I have worked my fucking ass off.  I will continue to do the work.  I will continue with the writing. I will continue to keep myself open and vulnerable to intimacy.  I will continue calling in the One until he has crossed the threshold.  I will do the work.

Which means I deserve some one that has done the work as well.  I am healthy, I am sober, I am loved.

You have to be too.  I make no apologies for that.  I know that narrows the pool.  But that’s the way it goes.  I also know this, God did not get me here to this place to drop me on my ass.  He’s coming and man, is he going to be thrilled–he doesn’t have to fix me!

Nor I him.  We will compliment each other, not complete each other.  No one can complete me, but me.

For today I open my heart to receive love and I believe that my Beloved is on his way to me now.

That’s right.  And I wrote that shit out ten times long hand today, so there.

Post Script

September 28, 2011

Well, that wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought.  I just went to the post box and sent out my query to Lynn Nesbit at Janklow and Nesbit Associates in New York.


Who do I think I am?  This woman publishes names, Anne Rice anyone.

But fuck it, it’s a risk, right, what’s the point of playing it safe?  The idea behind today’s exercise was to make a ridiculous request, one which we were about 100% sure we would get shot down for.  I don’t think I’ll even get back the SASE I included.

I am also pretty sure that Ms. Nesbit will be putting my query in the circular file, but I did the exercise, I can say, I have now done every one of them for the Calling in the One book, except for tomorrow’s, which will come tomorrow.

In case you are curious here’s the query:

September 27th, 2011

Dear Ms. Nesbit–

There was a moment when I thought, writing this query, that perhaps I overreach.  Perhaps it would be wiser to contact some one less professional,  less discerning, less accomplished, less well known for their work in the publishing field.


Yet, then I believe I would be selling myself and my memoir quite short.  Baby Girl is the story of myself running away from Wisconsin when I was nineteen to follow my true love to Florida; where I end up homeless on an abandoned air force base, seduced by an older man, and addicted to crack cocaine.  The story arc occurs within four months of that year and chronicles my misadventures as I attempt to get back home.

Thus, I send this request, to read my book, represent me.  I believe we could do well by each other.  I would be quite interested in sending you the opening salvo of my work, in hopes of gaining your readership and guidance.

I thank you, mostly just for having read all the way to the end of my query, and when you read further, for the time spent doing so.

Yours with highest regards,

Carmen Martines


That, I believe, constitutes a risk.

Second To Last Day

September 28, 2011

For Calling In The One.

That’s right, I have actually read, every day, the reading and I have also done the exercises every day and often times I have done the “bonus” practise in action.

Who just said I was a perfectionist?

Shut up.

Yeah, so, it’s true.  I am.  There has only really been one day where I have not done the exercise.

Today.  I read the reading, I wrote out the answers to the question, but they did not feel relevant or pertinent.  The bonus was to do something really outside of your zone, to take a risk, even if you know that you won’t get what you are asking for, to push yourself.

I did not really have the opportunity to do that today.  The other part of the assignment was to say yes to everything.  Funny thing is, I haven’t had anyone ask me to do anything, nor have I had any interactions with people who are outside the normal.  I had my job to go to, the girls to take care of, my commitment to meet, and my ride home.

Full day, for sure, but a risky day?  Not that I can think of.

So, how can I take risks right here right now at my desk, in the safety of my home, in front of my computer?  What can I say yes to that I haven’t been saying yes to?

Well, I can say yes to going bowling with Jackie, I just realized I haven’t responded to her invitation for a birthday bowling bash at Pacifica Bowl.  I’m a horrid bowler, you would think being from the land of the MidWest and the deep fat fried cheese curd, that bowling would run in my blood.  Alas, it does not.  I will risk looking the fool when I go bowl.

Ok.  I can do that.

What else?

Jesus, nothing is coming to mind.  I feel like I need to divulge some secret crush, or let out some hush-hush agenda items that I have been keeping close to the chest.

Oh, I watched television for the first time at work today.  Not with the girls, they were napping.  I had finished my writing, done the reading, sussed over what I could say yes to, had about the same response as I am currently having, and realized that I did not need a nap.  Turned on the television and sat on the couch and watched an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

Junk television that I like to watch, an admittance, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy, True Blood, Dexter, America’s Next Top Model, Top Chef, Breaking Bad, Weeds.

I do watch television, even though I don’t have one.  I watch downloads on my computer.  Which means there are no commercials, which is how I like it.

Come on, there has got to be something that I need to say yes to.

I say yes to the following: being sexy as fuck, getting asked out by men I would not normally date, making more money, moving to Paris, going to school at Aveda, being sober, being abstinent, Calling In the One, singing out loud to the girls when I am on walks with them.

Ooooh.  Total side bar–for the first time, K. did not want to go to mom when she got home.  Usually she just about heaves herself out my lap or away from whatever we are doing when mom comes home.  Not tonight.  In fact, she snubbed her.  It was crazy.  I put her down on the floor to go say hi to her mom, she looked at her, turned back to me and said, “up?”

Oh no you didn’t.

Mom reacted better than I was expecting.  I did not pick her back up and I ran down the day’s food intake, naps, beverages, poops, and activities as fast as I could as I had to be somewhere right quick.

What else?

Where can I take some risks?  I’m not going to go streak around my building.  Boring.  I’d do it any way.

Hey, I know, I invite you, dear reader, to throw some suggestions my way.  I am pretty game for anything.

Anybody got any ideas?

I will also add, that I did acknowledge some fear around taking a risk with Baby Girl.

Gah, there it is.  That’s what I have been dancing around.

Fuck a duck.

I wrote a query letter to an agent a few days ago, right before the wedding and I have not sent it out.  There’s my risk.

My brain, using the old smoke screen of, I should ask out a boy, there’s a risk.  But actually it’s not, the risk is sitting still and believing that I will get asked out and that I don’t have to do the asking.  The risk of asking some one out I have experienced quite a few times.  It is no longer a risk.

Oh, alright, I will send out the query.

Excuse me, I have some leaping off a bridge to go do.

God Damn

September 26, 2011

I am tired.

I am going to sleep walk through this posting, that is the hazard of writing a post every day, some days I will be writing jag’ed out posts, posts where I am so tired I could just fall asleep at the wheel, er laptop.

I drove back from Santa Cruz today.  I got up after a quite solid nights sleep and woke up to the green smelling redwoods and the sun filtering the long way down through the leaves.  It was beautiful.  Had myself a little breakfast, had a spot of coffee, and did my writing sitting at a picnic table overlooking the lawn from the community center’s lodge area.

People were up and moving far earlier than I thought they would be, but many folks had to catch planes and or drive back long distances, LA anyone?

I got my writing done, did the exercises and the reading for Calling In The One, and took a long walk through the redwoods before returning back to the dining area to check in one last time with new friends and family.  I rather felt like family after yesterday.  I had some really nice interactions with both Shannon and Alex’s family, from cousins to godparents, to friends, it was nice to be a part of.

And I also stand within my own autonomy and do what I could do to help, but not over commit to helping.  I knew it was going to be a day of planes, trains, and automobiles for me.  Or rather, rental cars, taxis trains, and BART.  I took a lot of different forms of transportation to get about this weekend.  I think I’m exhausted from just all the traveling I did in such a short bit of time.

The drive back from Santa Cruz was so smooth I decided I had time to run to Rainbow and basically do a bulk run.  I really did not need to buy groceries, per se, but man, when you got a vehicle, you use it.  Or at least I do.  Unfortunately, this lady did not realize that it was Folsom Street Fair.

Ah, fuck.

I spent more time stuck in SF traffic then I did in traffic coming back from the wedding.  And I realized it was my first time in years not going.  I’m rather over the fair.  Not that there’s anything wrong with it, go get  your naked butt on, will ya?  Just that the sex part of my life right now is rather on hold.  I am on the lets build some intimacy part.

I haven’t had sex in a little while.  Not an awful long period of time, but it’s beginning to look like it may be a little bit.  Even if I met the One, still wondering a little about Mister D.C. it was good to see him this morning, I have to say, this weekend, it would take some time to develop the kind of relationship where I am going to get naked with a person.

I have once again asserted my right and privilege to keep myself completely sex free until the right man comes into my life.  I have made this vow before and gave it up when I went to years with no sexy sexy.  Good that sucked.

However, I wasn’t at the place in my life than that I am now, that was about four and a half years ago.  I have had my share of flings, poly-amourous play, flirtations, sexting, multiple partners (christ, you know I’m tired when I don’t give a fuck what I’m writing about, though truth be told if anyone sincerely asked me I would share all this information with them, it’s not like I am hiding anything, least of all shame, I have gotten to have these experiences to find out what I do want).

None of them worked.

I realized the last poly-amourous relationship I was in that I was actually having sex with the guy to get to the pillow talk.


This is not a good way to cultivate a sexual relationship.  Even if the sex was wholly hot, I wanted the intimacy at the end, the conversation, the mutual language we found in our lives.

I think this is why I was a bit smitten, intrigued, by Mister D.C. last night, the level of conversation was fantastic.  I now have a bar to set my dates by.  I was thinking about dropping into a spot tonight to see if a guy I had been on a date with a few weeks back was going to be there and maybe he would ask me out again.

Nice try brain.  1. He’s not interested, there was no call back for date number two.  2. YOU AREN’T INTERESTED.  Which is much more important, our conversation was awkward as all fuck and we kept bringing it back to his dog–which if you know his dog is not terribly hard to do, she is absolutely adorable.  And to be honest, the man is a dear as well, we just didn’t have any real connection and it felt like a stretch to talk for the forty-five minutes we sat over tea.

Now, I know what I want the conversation to look like.  And from that I can build into the rest of the relationship, intimacy, mental, emotional, dare I say it, spiritual, must come before physical.

I usually go about it from the opposite end.

No pun intended.

Well, this may conclude my tired ass, sorry little posting today.  Suffice to say that I was in Santa Cruz, drove home, went to Rainbow, bought groceries, drove to the apartment, unloaded, unpacked, had lunch, took a bunch of clothes to Buffalo X-change and sold them, gassed the rental car back up, drove back to SFO, dropped off the car, got on an Airtrain, then onto BART, stopped at Sephora on Powell and bought mascara, and just missed the bus, had a case of I’m too tired for this, and flagged a cab for a ride I could have walked, but I may have fallen asleep some where in the Tenderloin and that would have been no good.

Glad to be home, glad I got my post written, glad I’ve got a down load of Weeds to watch.

Glad I get to pursue romantic intimacy at this stage in my life.

Really, glad.

Hugs to Shannon and Alex for helping set the bar so high. Congratulations on the beginning of your lives together, my friends, it was a distinct pleasure and a blessing to get to be there for you both.



September 25, 2011

So much to write about, and not sure exactly where to start.

I suppose that I should just start at the crack of dawn, the ass crack, the it’s not really even daylight, crack of dawn, when I got up to go to the bathroom and knew I was up.  It was 6 a.m.  How do I know?

It wasn’t from my alarm clock going off, although my bladder is really quite reliable if I don’t have an alarm clock; it was the cable car line starting up, the faint whir and click.  I get so used to hearing it that when it is silent I know that it is between 1 a.m. and 5:55a.m. It had just started up and the bladder had made itself known and I knew I needed to get up and get my ass moving.

Tossed myself through the shower, side bar I am totally eavesdropping on a conversation that is being had in my vicinity and I am distracted.

I am distracted because I had an awesome conversation, an unexpectedly awesome conversation with some one at the wedding who is a writer and it really lit a fire under my ass.

That and I am attracted to him.

Alas, he lives in Washington DC.


I meet some one at a fucking wedding, who is smart and cute and a writer and single and he lives on the other side of the country.  Yeah, thanks, God, what the fuck?

Ack.  I’m being a snot.  It was just an awesome conversation and I am a little amazed at the fact that I was just myself.  Unapologetically so.  Just Carmen.  Nobody else.

I was having a talk with a friend of mine recently about Kettle Korn Man, and how I had realized I was affecting an accent.  I was being extraordinarily not myself.  Granted, I did enjoy the date, but he was not a good fit and the conversation was stilted, and this conversation flowed so well.  I forgot I was in shoes that hurt my feet, I forgot that I was cold, I forgot that I was on my way to the photo booth to take pictures with the bride (which did happen and they are freaking hysterical).  I got swirled up into a conversation with a man who was unlike anything I have ever experienced.  I don’t believe I have ever had this experience before.

I was exuberant and me.

I actually don’t care that he lives in D.C.  Should he be the One, it won’t matter.  Should he not be the One, it won’t matter.  I allowed myself to be myself.  I felt myself blossoming without even realizing that I have been with holding all the interesting things about myself.

Damn, my life has been pretty interesting when I actually let myself acknowledge it.  I am stupendous.  I am redemption, look it up in the dictionary and you’ll see my picture.

Ok, well, maybe not, but, to quote Mister D.C., everybody loves a redemption story.

I am at the best place I have ever, ever, ever been in my life.  The surprising thing about it is that I have absolutely no idea where I am going, where this writing is going, where my life is going, but man, it is going.

I got to drive up, down, excuse me, Santa Cruz is down, to the South, but you know I am directionally dyslexic–which ever way I am facing is North.  Seriously.  You should have seen me wandering around the wedding site trying to figure out where I was, where the reception would be and where I was to join up with the bride posse–because guess who did make up for the bride!

Not expecting to do that.

And such nice compliments that I got.  The best being that from the groom, who was a little worried about how she would look, a little Tammy Faye Baker perhaps, but nope, she is such a gorgeous creature I had to do so little to make her up–it was just highlighting the beauty already there.

And I did make up on two other ladies.  Who the hell knew?  I would have brought the Kaboodle!

None the less, I had myself and am having myself a really good time, unexpected.  Not that I don’t love and adore the bride and groom, excuse me, the newlyweds, the husband and wife!  I just don’t know a lot of the people here at the wedding.  I do now.  It is tough to go to a wedding in general, I think, or that could just be my own experiences, not having been to an awful lot of weddings.

I was having moments of, I’m single, I’m not close friends with anyone here, I don’t know anyone, I’m an imposter, can you hear the small violin playing in the background?  It’s underneath a redwood in the grove.  I don’t have family like this, who would come to my wedding, like there’s going to be one.

Whoa! Hey.  Shut up head.  Who said you could come along?

I found a little stack of postcards on the table next to a window, I have a penchant for sending myself postcards, I always know my address!  I took it back to my room and addressed it to myself and wrote a little note.  Be Present. Be in the moment.  Be love.  Be of Service.

Doing the make up for the bride and two of the bridesmaids gave me a sense of purpose and I got connected to people in the wedding party.

And my tattoos, which I don’t think much of, being from San Francisco and sort of anesthetized to them, were quite the topic of conversation.  A good way to segue into getting to know people.  I forget that I have them, really, I do.  Sometimes I will remember or catch a glimpse and then, I too am surprised, who’s that? What’s on her arm?

The most popular question is always, “did it hurt”?

Yup.  But the pain is different from any I can explain.

And how does one explain how it is almost meditative?  You get, I get, into a space, a place, where I have a prayer on a loop in my head and it is astounding how deep into that space I can go.  It’s actually quite spiritual.

Wow.  I am tired.  I am rambling.  I am staring at Mister D.C.  and thinking I may have to tuck myself away to bed, I am not available for unrequited love.

Nope.  Not at all.

You want it, come and get it, I’m too busy living my amazing life.


Emotional Hang Over

September 20, 2011

Well, not quite, but a little.  I had just a rather mundane day today.  After all the excitement of the tour at Aveda and the serendipity of hanging out with Jackie and the joy of spreading it around, today was sort of difficult to get into.

I had moments of being sucked back into the fear as I tried to access my FAFSA from my phone.  I got an e-mail that I my request had been processed. Of course, I was thinking it was an award amount and it wasn’t.  I spent a lot of today wondering vaguely what I was going to get, would it be enough, and how was I going to pay for it all.

Then I would catch myself thinking and just breathe in deeply and let it go and focus on what was in front of me–K. it was just her and I today.  S. was out with a cold.  I don’t think she’s actually sick and it sounded like neither did her parents, but K’s mom was very adamant about her not coming in if there was any suspicion of illness.

This woman is going to have a rude awakening when she puts her daughter in day care.

She asked me to not take K. out anywhere.


Did you see how nice it was today?  Do you see the sunshine?  Please, it has been the foggiest ever, ever.  Just let me out of the box, lady.  Fortunately I was given permission to walk and take her outside. I took her on two walks.  One for two hours and another in the late afternoon after nap time for another hour.  I got me some sunshine!

Pausing to be grateful for three hours in which I got to be outside today while at work.  I know a lot of people that probably did not get that much paid time at work to be outside.

Thank you jesus.

But no parks.

What ever.

Six more weeks of this, then I am out.  I am still in the hallway, still not quite seeing how it is all going to work out and the realization hit–Carmen, get comfortable with being uncomfortable.  I got a hit of relief when I realized I was on the path, doing school, that the way was laid and my feet were moving down it.

Then it curved and I could not see where it was going and I got nervous.  I suppose that will just continue to happen.  When I was calculating my rent costs for the next couple of months and seeing how many weeks were in September and October and how much I had coming in.  I began to feel a bit frantic; I just stopped.  Closed my eyes.  Paused.  Breathed.

My rent is paid right now.

My rent is paid right now.

There is nothing wrong.  There is nothing I need to fix.  All my bills are paid.  I don’t have any un-opened mail staring me in the face.  I have $500 in savings.

That ain’t much, but it is something.  I have food in my belly.  So do the cats.  I can buy groceries.  I have $400 in checking.  The next two pay checks will cover October rent and there will be a little left over.

School will happen with or without me getting anxiety over it.  In fact, the anxiety does me little good, except to make my brow furrow, and really, that’s just not necessary–no need to look my age now!

Thank you God, I have more than enough money.

I could also just be feeling a little off kilter still from staying up until 5a.m. Saturday night!  Although, I let myself be vulnerable, at least it felt like I was being vulnerable, and I took my quilt, a pillow, a Vogue, a cup of tea and went to Huntington Square Park yesterday late afternoon and actually fell asleep in the sunshine.  It was glorious. I napped in the grass.

I think I have been talking about taking a pillow and the quilt and a cup of tea to the park for aeons.  I have lived in this neighborhood now for two years, come October 15th, and it took me that long to do such a small little indulgence.  I will be repeating and it will not be two years in the making.

Other financial insecurity crapola–I told Wendy I will go to Hallowell for Christmas and I told my Uncle Boy that I will go to San Diego for Thankgsiving.  Of course, my brain is telling me I won’t have enough to do so.

But I am going to believe that I am.  In fact, after my rent is paid for October I will be purchasing tickets for both places in the first week of that month.  I will find out about the school’s schedule and buy the tickets to coincide with the holidays offered.

I have to also send S’s folks an e-mail letting them now that I am going to be going to school and what days I will be available.

I am just going to keep taking the actions indicated.  I have copies of my transcripts for the application.  I have filled out the FAFSA and the results have been sent to the school.  I have requested two letters of reference and received affirmative response from both parties asked.  I just need to write my letter of intent and I will be done with the application.

This is the other anxiety inducing thing.  School is three days a week for ten hours.  I am about to sign on to working three days a week and doing school three days a week.  Basically giving myself a six-day work week.  I am not excited by this.  Thus, the brain kicks into overdrive again, can I do two days a week with S. ? Can I find other work?  Should I drop being a nanny completely and just get some barista job somewhere.  I found myself looking at job boards last night for writing work.  I have never done any freelance writing.  Is now the time to start?

When can I squeeze more time into my schedule to do this?

Ugh. Stop.

Makes the head hurt and I can feel furrowing.

Which leads me back to here, right now.  The present.  Where there again is nothing wrong.  Not with me, not with my job, not with school, not with money.

Not with the One.  Where ever he is.  There is nothing wrong in this moment and all avenues of possibility are open.  I am at the nexus of the Universe.

Ok, that sounded like I’m in Dune.

I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

There, that’s the attitude!

Remember, Carmen, the consequences of your actions are not going to be negative.

Accept that, move forward.  Take next action.

Go pee and wash your dishes.

I can do that!

Things I Did This Weekend

September 19, 2011

I Finally Get The Nightstand

Calling In The One

Ah, like, went to bed last night/this morning at 5 a.m.  Holy crow, batman, I don’t remember the last time I stayed up until 5 am on the weekend.  It has surely been a long time.

I had a crazy, cool, out of fucking hand day yesterday, that just kept morphing into the next cool thing.  Did it all happen?


The morning was my usual Saturday morning m.o.  Get up do my morning practice, make a little breakfast (hot oatmeal with an organic banana, cinnamon, pumpkin pie spice, ginger, nutmeg, sea salt, and unsweetened vanilla almond milk.  Oh my god who is this masked woman and what the fuck is she eating?) and a pot of organic Italian Roast french press coffee.  Then I did me some writing.

I did my morning pages, three, and I did the exercises out of Calling in the One.

PS.  If you are sick of hearing about this book, tough, this blog is going to be screaming with it, so get over it now or go read something else.  Like my book.


So, yesterday’s reading was around the ‘boogeymen’, you know those things that we allow ourselves to tremble before, despair of, and be in fear (F.alse E.vidence A.ppearing R.eal) of.  Like the this one: what the hell am I doing even thinking about applying to school for something I may really enjoy doing as a career, don’t you know that there’s not enough money and you are a fool and you are going to wind up getting evicted out of your apartment and you will be pushing a shopping cart in front of the Aveda institute with too much rouge on your withered cheeks.

Yeah, that’s where my head goes.  Uh, thanks for that.  That was really pleasant.

The exercise for this reading was to write yourself a letter specifically addressed from this fear.  Let the fear have its say.  Now, I thought, here is the stupid exercise that is not going to work.  I have contempt.  I know this fear, blah, blah, blah.

Hmmm, seems like some one is balking doesn’t it?

I write the letter addressed to myself from the fear of financial insecurity (ie the ain’t-never-gonna-be-enough fear) and boy howdy, did I get pissed.  By the time I was done with it, I had said “fuck you” out loud really loudly.  Poor cats, they thought I was hollering at them.

Here’s the “letter” from my fear-

Dear Carmen-

You’re never going to make it, you’re going to be poor forever, you’re going to get evicted, you going to wander the streets homeless and abandoned with a shopping card.  You will be unloved and always abandoned, you don’t deserve love, you’re unlovable and you don’t deserve financial success either, because you’re a piece of shit.

Baha- Your Fears Committee

I really did say “fuck you” quite loudly, then adding, “who the hell are you and what are you doing in my head?”

Flipping the page to the book, which is designed just so that you don’t see that next part of the exercise until you are about to do it.  The directions following said, I read to now write back to the fear and address it the way you would a young child.

Bingo.  I have the memory.

I was five, four, probably.  It was the middle of the night, somewhere in some city in the Bay Area or San Jose area.  Mom was flinging stuff into her boyfriend Chucks car and my sister is sleeping next to me in the back of the Volkswagen Beetle.  I am terrified, but keeping it pretty stifled.  We are moving again.  We are fleeing before they evict us.  I am woken out of a hard sleep to be shoved in the car with a bunch of boxes and garbage sacks of clothes.  My mom is sneaking around the car trying to be as quiet as possible so the neighbors don’t wake up.  The porch light is off and I watch from just below the door jamb on the Bug, I am crying and sniffling.  I had liked it here.  There was a tangerine tree in the back that I liked to eat from and I liked the kids in the neighborhood.  I don’t want to go.

Hence, with some new perspective, I write back my fear–

Dear Fear of Financial Insecurity

Thanks for the insight, but I am really being taken care of quite well, I’m not a little girl running away in the middle of the night skipping out of the rent like my mother and her abusive boyfriend.  I am loved and I am allowed to succeed.  And I am never alone.  I have an amazing God that loves and provides for me (yeah, I said GOD, get over it bitches).  Further I get to be happy and successful, they are my dues after all the hard work I have done.  I know that you are scared for me, that you are just trying to protect me so that I won’t get hurt.  But it’s time I flew without you, I promise God won’t let me crash.  You can let me go now.

Thanks for your concern, in loving kindness–Carmen

Then I left the house.  Saying as I left, if I lose this apartment because I am going to go to “beauty school” so be it.  I accept the consequences.

Now remember, the consequences don’t have to be bad!  What if, as John Ater suggested, the consequences are that I get a better place?  Am I ready to accept that?


I got a message from Beth on the phone about meeting up, so we hooked up in the Mission and then had us a great girls lunch at SunFlower.  Man, I love me some tofu salad.  It is just screamin’.  And nothing accompanies it better than a good bouquet of girlfriend.

Then I head downtown on BART to the institute.

It is perfect.

Can I just say it again, perfect.  Yeah, I got nerves, yeah, I had me some doubts, again, what am I doing?

Yet, every time I turned around something else was declaring hey, Carmen, this is it.  First, it smelled delicious.  I am such a fan of all things that smell nice.  I always have Pacifica candles burning in the house, maybe it’s vertiver,or blood orange, or my favorite Mexican cocoa.  I drench myself in coconut body lotion and make it a habit to always have my signature perfume, Egoiste, by Chanel, on my body.  I am a scent person.  And the school smelled good, so good.

So much better than poopy diapers, let me tell you.

The woman who I interviewed with, Jocelyn, and I got along smashingly.  Ridiculously. I thought, why we could be best friends her in about three days.  And how Paris came up (thought I’d forgotten Paris had you, think again!), how, not sure, but she’s going there soon for a vacation and the next thing you know I am asking, is there an Aveda in Paris?




Why, yes, Carmen, there is.


Then we are talking about the CIDESCO program and how it would mean not only California licensing to practice esthiology, but also throughout the United States and 30 other countries.  France being one of them.  Paris being where the Aveda institute is located.

Why, how handy is that?  I had been keeping it in my heart, but now, I share.  I don’t want to be a nanny in Paris either.  I want to do skin care work and I want to do make up art and I want to work the fashion shows.  I want to go to London on the tube.  I want to go to Milan.  I want to be booked to work the shows in Paris.

Hey fear of financial insecurity do you hear me knocking down your door?

I pay the deposit.  We go over the financials.  I breathe and say I don’t have to know where the money is coming from.  It’s just coming.  The tuition will get paid.  I will get to do this.  I also run into an old friend whom I had not seen in years, turns out she’s their new director.  Well, fuck me, how cool is this?

And I will be starting November 8th.  The very week after K. starts pre-school.

Handy, no?  Could the timing possibly be better?

I leave Aveda on wings.  I drift home up the hill.  Have I mentioned the school is located down the hill from my house.  I can walk there in fifteen minutes.

I meet with Jackie.  She picks me up and we head over to Oakland to see Thievery Corporation at the Fox theater.

More fantasticness.

We catch up in the car and bang, Kismet.

Guess who else has been doing Calling in the One?

Guess who has called in the one?

She did the web seminar.  And met the one.  I got to meet him too.  Spontaneity took hold of me while we were having dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant on Telegraph and I said, sure, I’ll go to this work party function in some crazy fancy high-rise condo in San Jose after the show to meet your guy.

And I did.  And it was awesome.  It was so affirming to see how it was working for her.  We shared a lot, we talked a lot, we compared our experiences.  She bolstered me up and assured me that I was on the right track.

It was though the Universe, was saying “hey, kid, I swear it’s happening, just hang in there, here’s a little proof to show you”.

As Joan likes to say, “Amazeballs”.

Amaze balls indeed.

I came home this morning too wired from the night and the party and meeting Jackie’s beau and drinking a lot of coffee, to go right to bed.  I got online, filled out the FAFSA, financial aid paper work for student loans, and made a promise.  Today I would get my nightstand for the other side of the bed, as I was directed to do weeks ago.  No more balking.

And guess what?

I did.

Guess who is calling in the ONE now?

Yeah, that’s right I am.  Here he comes, walking right straight for me.  I think he’s going to like the nightstand.  I got him a kick ass lamp to read by as well.  He likes to read.

Before you know it, there’s going to be an extra toothbrush in the bathroom as well.

Now excuse me while I go kick some more fears out into the hallway, I ain’t got room for them no more.


September 16, 2011

Little light bulb popped off in my head in discussing body image tonight with a fellow.  I like you if I think you like the way I look.  I don’t take into consideration, if I like you in general.

Are we a good fit, do we like similar things, do we have compatible schedules, do we live in the same city, are you healthy and taking care of yourself, are you in a good place with your finances (no, you don’t have to be wealthy or well off, I think there’s some confusion when I say financially successful–I mean are you capable of paying your rent and utilities and food without having to borrow money from your parents to tide you through til your next check or pay period.  Or are you taking strides to get healthy with your money?  Like pursuing a new career or education.)

No, I like you if you think I’m pretty.

Ok, maybe it’s not quite so basic as that.  But I have noticed that I only notice men who make it really apparent that they find me sexy or hot or fuckable.

I want to be likable.  I want to be noticed for my generosity of spirit and my ability to love.  Not just whether I pulled together a cute outfit from the closet this morning or have on a pair of sexy tights.  Although, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a cute outfit and sexy tights, I’m all down for it.

But we have to have more than just that initial attraction.  For instance, I like to read books and write.  Perhaps you do too.  Or you have a creative outlet, it does not necessarily have to be books and writing.  I would like to carry on a conversation that does not revolve around an episode of Two and a Half Men.  Not that I could pull that off anyhow, I’ve never seen the show.

Just random thoughts that have been a swirl in my head tonight.  The Calling In the One book is about 3/4s done.  I have not met with Sarah again to discuss where we are at with the various exercises, but I have been religiously doing the reading and the practises.

Yesterday, for example, I sat in one place for fifteen minutes and just was.  I did not feel lonely or alone.  I registered what I was feeling.  Some guilt and shame around Jeremiah, then forgiveness for myself and gratitude that I did not let it go further.  Yes, it is really amazing to have some one find you attractive and my god is it a balm to the ego to hear it, but I realized that we did not have a whole lot else going for us, no mutual friends or hobbies, aside from alcoholic dads (can that be considered a hobby?).  A relationship for me must be built upon more than just physical attraction.  I also noticed that I felt held, taken care of, and on the right path.  It was nice to acknowledge these feelings instead of checking out with one of my employers Cosmo’s.

I am too old for any thing else.  Although I was pegged as a “young person” tonight and was very flattered to actually say I did not fit the criteria for what that person was looking for, nice as it was to be though of as under 30, I am very proud of my 38 years.  I have done quite a bit with them.

Oh, I also recently picked up a few more things for the house.  I still have to get a nightstand for the other side of the bed.  I will accomplish that this weekend.

And I received a little box of joy today in the mail, in a plain brown box.  No, it was not from Good Vibrations.

It was from AT&T.  I got a modem and they will be here Saturday (between, I love this, 8am. and 8pm, to install it) to hook me up with internet.  I will be officially paying my own way come Saturday.  No more coasting off of Gayle’s Guest Network or Linkys or Belkin54g.  I will stop having my internet dropped and I will have a faster connection.  I actually spend a lot of time waiting for pages to load and I am so over it.  I am quite happy to be stepping up my adult life here.

And that means that I will be doing my blogging from my desk in the other room rather than here on the love seat in my bedroom. I am, (this is scary!) making my room into a boudoir.  Only sleeping and sex and intimacy will be going on in this room.  No more working on my computer from the bedroom.  The love seat will go back to being a love seat, meant to be reclined on with my one.

I also noticed things trying to creep back into the spaces I have created and I moved stuff back out redefining space that is meant for him.  It’s weird, I will admit it, I can almost feel him being here.  Nerve racking and wonderful all at the same time.

I really don’t have any idea who it is and I don’t care (ok, a little, I still care a little), but I know it will be different.  No more Jeremiah’s or Grants or Mister Sexy’s.  No more not available men, T. from Burning Man  who I ran into on the street last Friday and has not called, I’m not holding space in my brain for you, because the FaceBook invite to an event you are hosting is not a date.

That’s what my brain tells me, for real, my brain is not my friend.  Yeah, it’s a date, asshole brain, that he invited 1100 other people too.  I’m sure he’ll have lots of time to hang with you!

No more fantasy relationships.  I am ready for reality.

Which just means being present for the awesome woman I am.

I am awesome, you know, and damn sexy, and I will be wearing some hot ass tights tomorrow.  Just so you know.

It’s Friday after all.

And you can comment on those tights and you can ask those tights out on a date, just be prepared to carry on a conversation with the rest of the woman there.


Pack it In!

September 12, 2011


Just another day in San Francisco.

Up early, well, not that early, I did get to bed later than I would have considering I did not  post up a blog until almost 1 a.m.  However, I was up a half hour before my alarm went off; thus, up officially in my mind early, at 9 a.m.

Did my morning routine, made some breakfast, stripped the bed, did some laundry, wrote the morning pages, and did the exercise out of Calling In The One, for today, packed lunch and headed out to Muddy Waters.

I splurged on a cab, I was actually running behind, even though I had gotten up prior to the alarm as I made the executive decision to not pick up my bike from Lombardi’s until after I had done the deal with the ladies today.  I had thought I could scoot over to the bike repair place, but the details of getting me out the door took slightly longer.

I could have gone done to the Mission and did my writing at Four Barrel, but I had this feeling in my gut that I would not get the writing kicked out, and I need to focus on my writing and the structure I have set up to do so.

Especially as I ran into Robert this weekend and we set up a time to collaborate on the digital book cover for Baby Girl.  I was inspired by an old photo he took of my eye in which you can see the reflection of the camera in my eye and in the mirror of my sunglasses.

We are going to take pictures of my eye with a haze of smoke, crack smoke, although no crack will be used, thank you very much–cigarette smoke will suffice I believe, and further it will not be coming out of my mouth–layered over the top of it.  Robert also informed me that he wants to take some film of my mouth talking.

Turns out that there will be a MUSIC VIDEO made of While You Were Sleeping!  And the videographer wants to use a luscious pair of lips to frame the narrative of the song where in the objects that the poem speaks of pass from said mouth.  Robert told me that he informed the director that “the poet” (god, I loved hearing him say that, the poet) had just the perfect mouth for the project.

Oh. My. God.  So not only is my poem being featured by one of my favorite djs of all time, but my mouth gets to be a part of the video.  I am going to be in a music video!  Good lord, what is this world coming to?

Thus, I have felt compelled to make sure that I am grounded in my morning pages.  And really, I am realizing I am going to have to put aside some time here soon to polish up Baby Girl.  Putting together the digital cover is the next part of the journey to e-publishing and that’s going to get started next Friday.

Oh joy!

Splurging on a cab to the Mission was also a nice reprieve.  My freaking left thigh is still damn sore.  I must have bruised it much worse than I thought, the muscle is pretty stressed.  I ended up walking my bike up part of California Street coming home tonight; although, I also had my new messenger bag loaded to the brim with groceries.

Taking a cab to the Mission as well, allowed me the freedom to run by Aunt Bill’s Stuff on Valencia and peruse the store.  I have been on a mission of sorts to get the remainder of the things for the house to make it my little home.  I got three pillows yesterday and a folding shabby chic white-painted tray table at Left Overs on Van ness yesterday.  And today I found the perfect country chair in a softly faded moss-green for my desk.

The living room is done.  All that I have left to hunter gather is a nightstand for the other side of my bed and a lamp for that table.  I am taking all the suggestions from Calling in the One and doubling up on things is part of the feng shui I am supposed to be doing.  As well as holding space for the One to be in my apartment.

I have successfully stopped trying to put things in the spaces I have created.  When I see myself trying to re-negotiate the space I have freed up for whatever thing of mine I want in the space, I say to myself, nope, that’s for him to put his things in.

Some times this is scary.  Some times this is an awe-inspiring thing, it makes it so much more real.

Side bar, a couple of very nice texts from J.  in regards to last nights date.  And although he has not asked me out again, it is coming.  He told me point-blank he likes me, he’s not interested in a fling, and he wants to take it slow, and he reiterated what a great time he had with me, that another date was definitely in the making.

Good man!

I concur.  Oh, and my toilet works now.


Once I secured the farm chair from Aunt Bill’s Stuff, I flagged another cab and headed back to my side of town.  Where I rapidly changed over the laundry, made my bed (with the extra sexy new pillows I got), chugged some water, swapped out my shoes for my bike shoes and hot footed it out the door to Lombardi’s to get my bike.

I got myself a new set of bike tires and a new Kyptonite lock and cable.  I kept having this gut feeling over Thursday and Friday that my lock needed to be replaced.  I did not feel like letting that piece of intuition slide.

Then off to Rainbow to do grocery shopping for the week.  I did not get a chance to cook today as I was at a dinner part at the lovely and adorable Mrs. Fishkin’s.  She and hubby hosted a simple and amazing dinner party for the Burning Man camp family unit.  We had the most divine corn and red potato chowder with a chiffonade of basil and a scrumptious mushroom gratin and a delectable baby cucumber and spinach salad with dill–it reminded me of my grandmother’s cucumber salad and sang in my mouth of the last days of summer.

I excused my self a little earlier than I would have liked.  I knew I still had to get home, unpack the bag of groceries from Rainbow and get myself situated for the week.   A nice hot shower, a cup of tea and a Gravenstein apple later, my blog.

And if I can sneak it in, and you know I’m going to, last week’s down load of True Blood which I have not had the time to fit into my return from the burn post I don’t want to be a nanny anymore week I had the last week.


And should you be wondering, I am still on the no more nanny track.  Even after getting to see my Junebug tonight at dinner and little Miss Eve, who is not so little anymore–how fast did six happen!?

I confirmed it out loud today to more people, the nanny is done.  The relationship to a new career is starting.  Actions are being taken.

Although, right now the only action I got left in my busy day is to heat up a little more water, have another cup of tea and crawl my happy ass into bed.

Really, a delightful weekend.


Contempt Prior to Investigation

September 11, 2011

My god has a funny sense of humor.

I know I had this conversation rather recently with some one either pre-Burning Man or at Burning Man.  Was it Mrs. Fishkin?  Was it Sarah?  I don’t know.  There’s event the distinct possibility that I wrote about this recently, maybe three or four blogs back.

The joke being this–that because I have always expected to meet the “One” at Burning Man I would not meet the “One” at Burning Man.  That, because my God has a sense of humor I would most likely meet the “One” at Fisherman’s Wharf.  And who the hell knows when that would happen, as I never, underscore never, go there.

Guess who had a date tonight at Pier 39?

Guess what had a really amazing date tonight at Joe’s Crab Shack in, drum roll please, Fisherman’s Wharf.

Guess who had a date with someone, no, you will not believe this, who has never heard, yes I’m serious, never heard of Burning Man?

Guessed yet?

Good God.  I actually came this close, picture thumb and forefinger a scant centimeter apart, from cancelling on Jeremiah, the kettle corn man, and I had an absolutely phenomenal time.

I had to drop my “cool” attitude.  I had to let down my guard.  I had to deign to go to the Wharf on a first date.  And guess who had a ridiculously good time?


Well, that would be me.  I still cannot believe it.  How in the world?  I have never had more fun on a date then I did tonight.  I have also never worn a bib on a date.  I believe we broke a lot of the cardinal rules of dating, not that I was ever really good at following a bunch of rules.

Cardinal rule number one of what is probably a dozen–don’t take your date some where they are going to have to wear a bib and get messy.  Cardinal rule number two–don’t take your date to a restaurant that sings happy birthday to it’s clientele or dances through the dining room every half hour or wear’s shirts that say “Got Crabs?”

I cannot tell you how many times I had to suspend my belief, to use a cinema term, and just let myself enjoy what was happening.  I did not get snarky, I did not get hipper than thou, I just let myself enjoy what was happening.

Jeremiah picked me up at 8p.m. on the dot.  We small talked and made our way down to the Wharf.  I have not been to the Wharf at night since the first time I visited San Francisco 11 years ago.  My God, has it been that long?  That must be right.  I came to visit Brian who was living in Berkeley with his girlfriend.  We had a day where we went all over the place and at some point I think we took a cable car to the Wharf and went to Pier 39 to see the sea lions.  I remember we drank overly sweetened hot cocoa and split a large sugar cookie with sprinkles.

This date was much better.  First, because it was a date.  Second, because it was with some one who is not in a relationship. Third, because it was with someone who was really excited to be on a date with me.  I don’t know that I have ever had so many nice things said about me to me by a date as I did tonight.

None of them slimy or sexist or pushy.  All of them said with sweetness and genuine regard.  This man really likes me and was not afraid to say it.  He complimented my dress, my hair (he noticed that I had it colored), my smile.  He said I was gorgeous and he could not believe that he was actually on a date with me.  AW! He told me about the first time when he noticed me and that it took seeing me four more times before he had the courage to say something to me.

I remember it well, he told me that I had a beautiful smile and he called me “darlin'”.  Then that it took him another four weeks to ask me out. I find this really endearing.  He made me laugh and I can’t recall a time that I felt this at ease with some one.

At one point he made me laugh so hard I snorted.  He did the maniac dance from Flash Dance.

Good lord, I laughed so hard I thought I might wet my pants.

I even told him my family nick name–Bubba.

I don’t tell anyone that for heaven’s sake.

I might be a little unexpectedly smitten here, folks.  He gave me his coat to wear when we left the restaurant, held out his arm to walk with me and opened the car door.  Paid for over priced parking in a garage next to the restaurant so that I would not have to walk far in my heels, and paid for the meal without batting an eye.  And asked me on another date.  He also drove an hour to see me after having worked a sixteen hour day.  Turns out he is working his ass off to go back to school.  Huge respect.  Huge.

And what do you know, the food at Joe’s Crab Shack was good.  Really good.  I had a bunch of steamed crab and clams and peel and eat shrimp and a piece of Andouille sausage that was delicious.  Yes, I wore a bib.  Yes, the server sat down next to me in the booth and wrote her name on a piece of paper towel.  Yes, I licked my fingers–it was fucking tasty and the only way to eat was to use your fingers.  Yes, cheesy music played.  Yes, the servers sang to a table of ten and danced around the dining room to YMCA.  And yes, I had a really, really, really good time.

I was going to cancel this date.  I was not going to go.  I was about to have contempt prior to investigation.  I told you, my best thinking is shit.

This pretty much proves it.

My God has a very funny sense of humor.  And the best part?  I could not invite him in because my toilet broke and was backed up.  He had to pee.  I knew he had to pee when he walked me to my door.  We had been looking to grab a late night cup of coffee but couldn’t find parking anywhere, so he brought me back to my house.  Parked, and walked me to the door.  He asked if he could use my bathroom.

And I had to say no, not because I did not want him to come in, because I would have happily had him in, but because my damn toilet was backed up and I don’t have a plunger.

God is chuckling right now.

Hell, I’m kind of laughing too.  I did not explain why I could not invite him in.  I just said no, he could not use the facilities.  He completely understood, he did not push and then he kissed me.

Oh my.

Such a kiss.

God damn good thing I don’t have a plunger.

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