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.


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