Getting Legit

This was the topic of conversation that I had with Tami as we walked through the throngs of shoppers and tourists running amok around Union Square this afternoon.

We were on our way to Optical Underground to get me some new glasses.

And can I just say, THANK YOU, to the people who so wisely suggested it to me.  Wow.  It truly rocks, it rocks so hard, I am about to stop blogging and go YELP it.  Not really, but I think you get my point.  It was pretty freaking awesome.  I got a fabulous pair of frames for less than the hideousness I had picked out at Kaiser.

The glasses officially seal the deal on my hipsterishness, however.  That and the job working at a boutique (my moniker) bicycle shop in the Mission.  The tattoo sleeves on my arms and the nose ring are just incidentals.

Bahaha.

Although, it does not apparently matter that I have lived in San Francisco for nine years, I still have a Midwestern twang that comes out in awkward spots–like at work in front of the ridiculously cool tech marketing guy (who actually was wearing the genuine item just so distressed leather boat shoes with no socks, an item that I don’t care how fucking cool it is, I will not where boat shoes.  Well, unless they’re the pair of turquoise blue platform ones I saw in the most recent issue of Nylon, those are hella hot)–who glanced up at me and said, “yah, der hey, where bouts you hailin’ from”.  Oh, gonna sink below the floor boards and die.

Ugh, you can tattoo me, you can hipsterize me, you can dunk me in Burning Man, and it still leaks out, damn you Wisconsin, I can’t ever fully escape.  No matter how much I may insist that I really laud from Silicon Valley, Palo Alto was where I was born, Stanford anyone?  Or is it Santa Clara county?  Fuck if I know, I haven’t been back since I was four and a half.

Nevertheless, back to the conversation before I segued into hipsterville.  Tami walked me through a semi-panic attack as I again confronted the I cannot afford to live where I live nor, I am seeing clearly now, live in the room I am supposedly going to look at tomorrow.  I won’t be looking.  It’s too expensive.  I cannot deny it.  Every which way I look at it, it’s just too much.

And while I believe that it is only a momentary glitch in the Universe that I am making $15/hour, I don’t know when that will change and I am not willing to not, oh, I don’t know, not eat, because I have to pay my half of the utilities bill.  Yeah, that thing–you know, cable, internet, PG&E, etc, that I did not negotiate into the cost of the $900 a month room.  It would appear that I was whistling in the dark.

I am used to paying about $14-$18 a month for PG&E.  That was what I was thinking in the back of my head would continue. Ah, nope, silly rabbit, houses cost more to live in than that.  When the full picture came clear to me today how much it would really be to live there, I lost it.  Albeit not at first, it sort of crept in and co-mingled around my ankles for a while, then suddenly leapt up and smacked me in the face.

Oh hey, you there, I was trying to not pay attention to you, go away.

Tami made some suggestions and gave me a lot, and I do mean, a lot of perspective.  First, she re-iterated that I was ahead of the curve for seeing that my time had come to an end for the nannying, that there really was nowhere else for me to go with it.  Second, that after four and a half years of being basically under the table, I was getting legit.  Getting legit, paying taxes, doing it the good old-fashioned American way.

That and starting in on the ground floor somewhere and working my way up.  Whether that means staying with the bike shop or parlaying the experience upwards and outwards.  I just don’t know, but the whole going legit thing, sounded pretty spot on.  In more than one manner of speaking I have gotten my feet underneath me and I am constantly learning and growing.  And exploring new skill sets.

It may “feel” at times that I am running in place or going backwards, but that is not the case.  I am moving forward, just not always at the pace I want to be.

Forgetful, I am, the journey’s the point, not the destination.

I mean, how satisfying will it feel to just magically have that house with those floors and that view and the fire pit and those windows just dropped in my lap.  Versus, the joy of struggling and striving and finding my way to it, the satisfaction will be much richer and warmer on long arduous road.  Sort of like getting a cup of instant cocoa made with luke warm water in a styrofoam cup versus the pre-heated china bowl of  slowly simmered, gently stirred hot milk nestled up around artisanal chocolate infused with vanilla bean pods and adorned with home-made just slightly toasted marshmallows with fresh ground organically sourced nutmeg.

I want the latter, fyi.

At least hypothetically, I am not going anywhere near a bowl of sugar any time soon.  But the image is nice, no?

So along those lines, I have found myself in the humble space of yet again crashing at the family’s house in Potrero.  I got to see the divine Miss Junebug tonight and Charlie REno!  Such exquisiteness.  The two most delicious creatures, who talked about feeding me stinky feet and poop pizza for the first twenty minutes I was there, but you know, there’s some lovableness mixed in that recipe, despite the utter grossness of it.  They really are pure sunshine (Juni’s dad is employed by the sun, dontcha know–I was informed of this when she asked me what she tasted like and I said, “sunshine” and she said, “that’s because my daddy works for the sun”.  Dying.  Dad works in solar).

Reno’s folks asked after my transition change from nanny to bike shop as Reno and Juni ran laps around us and how it was going and I told them, it’s great, it’s a huge uptick in satisfaction and interaction with the human, adult, race, and a dramatic down tick in money.  I let them know I was moving out of my apartment in Nob Hill and once again in that weirdo limbo land of not yet knowing where I am going to land–on little cat feet–I am keeping the cats.

I just can’t stand the idea of giving the fuckers up, even though it makes it such a challenge to find a place to live.  Seriously the one time I was really thinking, I could let them go, Uni comes and hops in my lap, nestles down, sans claws, and starts licking my hands and purring.

Manipulative little beastie.

Ugh.

Saddled with cats is worse than being saddled with a crack head room-mate as far as getting a place is concerned.

Then, Reno’s folks said, stay with us.

Oh god.  I had nothing to say.  I was a little blown away.  I should know better, Juni and Charlie’s folks have always, always, always, taken care of me, yet, to be so considered is still overwhelming and makes me get choked up and humble, oh yeah, humble, big big humble.

When you leave a nanny gig with starry eyes all a glow about how you’re going to be the next Dave Eggers or what’s the dude’s name, Running with Scissors, grr, late night blog post, can’t remember, or Henry Miller (you know he was just writing about his life in Paris, eating and drinking and having sex and hanging with his friends) only to be back in the same boat two years later not knowing where you and your silly cats are going to live–oh, hey, what about in the attic room at your old employers home, I can say there’s room on my plate for some humble pie.  With a good dollop of abashed to spice it up.

But I am not stupid.  I may be humbled, I have had some ego levelling, that’s for sure, but I am not going to look a gift horse, or a room in the mouth.

Between staying there and staying at Robyn’s I will have a rent free December.  One in which I can cozy up a little financial breathing space (as long as my direct deposit goes the fuck through) and maybe even a little respite from the stress of having to find a place.  I will make money while the sun shines too.

I am taking Mrs. Fishkin’s advice–this nanny is now open for the holiday season.  You got a holiday party you want to go to, call me up.  I’ll do it.  I need to supplement the $15/hour income while the getting is hot.  Then, who knows, January is going to come up roses.  There is money on the horizon there is prosperity around the bend, and its legit.

And the best thing?

Really, truly, the best thing, I will be successful, despite the Neanderthal brain stomping around the feargrounds in my brain, I will.  Because I will pass on these gifts so freely given me.

I cannot wait to play the largess forward–the glasses, the rooms, the open arms of my community, I am an investment, and I promise you from the midst of the side-walk sale in my apartment–I will play it forward.  I will give it all back and more.

Legitimately and with interest.

A lot of interest.

I Heart My Friends

I do, I really, really do.

Mostly because I can show up a wreck, like I did tonight and sit between two dear women and cry and not run away.  Tami put it to me so well, it’s Friday, you’re in a safe place, you can decompress from your week.

Decompress?  What the fuck is that?

Need glasses, going to move next weekend, new job, two weeks down! Don’t have a place to live yet, although I probably do, it’s just twice what I want to pay. No money in the bank.  Which is sort of true, but not really.  I have money, it’s just not accessible.  Direct deposit never went through today.

ARGH.

Not how I like to live.  I suppose I will get used to it and I will learn how to manage my money when it comes in.  But dude, it’s fucking Friday and that means no money until Monday from work.  That really is not what I wanted to hear.  I took the “news” better than I thought I would.  I opened up my computer this morning, went online, and looked at my bank balance.

And lo and behold, it is the same as it was yesterday when my debit card got declined at the optometry office.  I breathed in nice and deep and said, look what you have right in front of you.  You just ate breakfast, a nice hot, tasty breakfast, and it was organic to boot.  You have a cup of coconut chai steaming and dusted with cocoa powder by your paw waiting to be imbibed.  You are sitting in an apartment that is paid for.  Your bills are all current.  You have food for today and for tomorrow.

Then I did my morning pages and went online again after to see if “magically” the money had been deposited to my account.

Nope.

So, I went into my ING Direct savings account and emptied it.

Well, that’s not true.  I left $1.39 in it.  I took out a thousand.  I transferred it to my checking account.  It will arrive in my checking account on Tuesday.  If I get this room on Sunday, that will be my rent for December, rent and utilities.  Then I can set aside what ever comes in from work whenever it comes in, toward rent for the following month.

That may seem like I’m getting ahead of myself, but if the direct deposit is not dependable, which it does not seem to be according to all employees I spoke with about it (not that you don’t get paid, or paid correctly, you just don’t really know when it will land in your account) I will need to make sure I set aside money earlier in the month than I normally would to make sure that my rent costs get covered.

There are two things I don’t fuck around with when it comes to my money–rent and my phone.  Those are my necessities.  I have always paid rent and my phone no matter what.  I pay them when they are due and not a minute later.

So, with some trepidations, but no other choice, I took the money out of my savings.  The money I will get back from my deposit will go straight back into being the money for my new deposit.  And then that’s all she wrote.

It seems complicated, but I have money, I just can’t touch it right now.  Sort of feels like a kid who is sitting on a trust fund waiting to turn eighteen to get access to it.

On the bright side, I got a nanny gig with my favorite little girl in the whole world tomorrow night.  So, I will get awesome hugs and snuggles and play time and adventure and a little cash to carry me through the weekend.  I can deal with that.

I will also be getting some money from selling my cruiser bike.  I got a buyer!  Not that I did not think I wouldn’t, the thing is priced to move, but I got a buyer that I adore, who I know will love riding it and I can already see her perched upon the black velvet corduroy seat with a cute pair of boots and a hat.  Yay!

I feel like I showed up well today at work.  I did not get indignant with my boss about there not being money, I did not throw a tantrum.  I kept my opinion to myself about how we should get paid in a prompt manner and just did the work in front of me.  I got a lot accomplished, two weeks in it is starting to make more sense, I am beginning to get the feel of it.

But I have to say by the end of the day, I had my fill for the day and my fill for the week and there was no money in the account, and it was confirmed, no money until Monday and I could feel myself getting irritated.  Then I talked with Arin and David who were working in the building on all things cool and designer, and told the story of getting my card declined last night at the optical department at Kaiser.

Which, I am beginning to see is a blessing.  David mentioned Optical Underground, as did my dear friend Sarah last night, they both gave it huge thumbs up.  Arin pointed out, see, this is better, now you won’t be wearing cheap glasses that you just randomly picked out after five minutes.  I can go to Optical Underground and get something funky and sexy and cool and the cost will probably be either the same or cheaper.

Rock on.

I called Kaiser back, told the man who assisted me last night that my deposit had not gone into my bank account, rip up the impression he took of my card.  And thank you for your help, you were really nice about it.

Tomorrow Tami and I are going to meet up in the Mission, do the deal, then meander over to the store and check it out.  She’s gifting me a pair of frames.

I burst into tears when she said that, and debated whether I wanted to write about it either.  But, I write about me, my life, my experiences, and accepting a gift from a friend, is a hard thing for me to do.  I just about had a panic attack.

I wanted to protest, no, no, no, I have the money, it’ll be there (mind you, my house looks like a side-walk sale as I gather everything and anything I can sell, but no pride wants me to turn down the gift).  I sat there and shook and let the tears run down my face.

Then a big breath, and I said, “this is where I say thank you.  Thank you”.

God damn that was hard.

How come that is so hard?

Especially since I know I would do the same for a friend and not let them turn it down.  Yet, for me, nope, no gifts, please don’t.

Such bullshit.  It doesn’t allow for me to be human, I don’t have to have all the answers and I know, without a doubt in my mind, when it is my turn to help out, I will.  That is how it works.  When you have it, you give it away to some one who needs it.

My life is blessed, my friends love me, even when I try to say I am not worth it.

Fact is, I am.

As are you.

Mama Needs A New Pair of Glasses

I just got home from my Kaiser optometry appointment.  I need glasses.

ARGH.

Never say never by the way, as in, “I’ll never wear glasses again!”  Because, guess what, yes, you will.

Joan just assured me that glasses were sexy.

I am going to take her word for it.

I did not see sexy peering back at me from the mirror.  I saw myself, age 12 with the hideous huge plastic frames that hid all of my eyebrows and were clear, except where speckled with bits of pink and iridescent green flecks of embedded “glitter” in the frames.  They truly must have been the ugliest things I have ever seen.  They certainly were cheap.  They were one of six pairs that I got to choose from.

What choice is there when they all look like ass?  Not much in my opinion.

Tonight, truthfully, did not feel much different.  When asked what style I was interested in, what popped out?

Cheap.

And guess what?

It did not matter that they were cheap, my card was still declined.

Direct deposit sucks.  I don’t like not having cash on hand.  I do not, Sam I am.

Fuck me man.

This week has just been kicking me around.

I did not cry, although I sort of wilted.  I wanted, very earnestly to put my head down on the table and just lay there for a while.  I then explained to the person assisting me that I had just started a new job and the direct deposit took between two and three days.  It was put “in” on the fifteenth, so there should be money in my account tomorrow.  The guy was very sweet and took an impression of my card and I am to call him in the morning after verifying there being money in my account.

I had noticed, about a month ago that there is a slight disconnect in my depth perception when I have been writing in the morning.  I have also noticed it every once in a while when glancing down on my bike.  It is eery and disconcerting.  I ignored it for a while, then I got a bunch of headaches last week.

Stress?  Weird eye crap?  What?

Astigmatism.

Sigh.

I had laser surgery done ten years ago and apparently not all of my astigmatism was addressed at that time.  Fifteen years ago they did not even have the technology to address it at all.  Of course, my eye doctor tonight told me, I may not have even had it at that time.  But that as I was near-sighted it may have just developed over the years and it’s just now that I’m noticing it.

Plus, I have been working at a computer for a few weeks now.  You need sharp eyes to be a nanny, but it’s a different kind of sight than what I have been using since I started working at the bike shop.

The nice thing about the visit was that the doctor’s visit was actually covered by my insurance.  Although the glasses part was not. At least I did not have to pay a co-pay to add insult to injury.  My eye doc also wants me to come back in and get my eyes dilated so that he can just check a few other things.  I was honest and let him know my insurance coverage ends December 1st.

I got an appointment for November 30th.

I will have to take a half day at work.  I won’t be able to look at a computer screen for about six hours.   Which negated my idea of taking the first possible appointment in the morning and going directly to work there after.  So, I have a three pm appointment for the 30th.  I hope they don’t find anything else funky going on, I won’t be going back.

Time to investigate Healthy San Francisco.

I have cancelled my health insurance.  I called PG & E today and shut off the service to the apartment today.  I opened the doors to the humility restaurant and asked if they had reservations for one for the rest of my life.

Sigh.

I know there’s a reason for all this and I am just going to keep going.  I had this moment today when I was riding my bike to work and bitching in my head about how hard I work and when am I going to get a break and yada yada yada, and it sort of hit me from out of the blue, I don’t have any one else to take care of.  Really, nobody but me.

I don’t have a partner, I don’t have children.  Yeah, I have some cats, but if worst came to worst they go to the SPCA and some body else takes care of them.  It would not be fun to say good-bye, but ultimately, I am the only thing I am responsible to.  I asked myself what the problem was?

Ah, I have ideas about where I should be at this point in my life.  I ‘should’ have a career, a car, a partner, a house, a fill in the blank.

What I have got–health, humor, self-reliance, amazing friends, community, fellowship, and gobs and gobs and heaps of love.  I know I am loved.

Like flat-out, I know that.  I have a job because I am loved.  I was taken out to a scrumptious meal yesterday because I am loved.  I am hugged every day.

EVERY DAY.

How many people get that?

I have a really awesome and fulfilling life.  I get to write, daily, twice daily, soon to be three times daily and maybe sooner rather than never, I’ll get to write all the time.

That may be a wish I regret making later, but the idea of being able to write all the time, that is sexy.  I get to write.  I get to fill my heart and my soul every day with something that I adore, that defines me, delineates me, and fulfills me.  I don’t have to be wildly successful, I do it for me when the day is done, it is always for me (although, you know, I love it that you are reading this, and I think about you fondly while I write, yes, I do, don’t get bashful!).

How many people live lives like that?  I have made time in my life to allow for this fulfillment.  I get up earlier than I need to before I go to work to write.  And it’s what I do every night before I go to bed.  I write.  That is success, no matter whether my bank card gets declined or I get to wear new glasses, that is success.

I am happy.

I am joyous.

I am free.

And Joan is right, glasses are sexy.

I am sexy as fuck.

Too Much Eye Makeup?

Bursting into tears while reading an e-mail will fix that!

Last night, after talking with John Ater about my living situation, I came home and made a phone call.  I know some one who has a room available.  Some one that I like, I could imagine living quite comfortably with, and I respect.  A place that would take my cats and give me a day or two to turn around my damage deposit from my old place.

The catch?

The cost.

When I was first made aware of the room I did not think it would be a good fit.  I said thanks, but no thanks.  Then I found out how much the rent was and said, nope, really, too much for me to deal with.  I am just not making that kind of money.

I let it go.

Another friend offered a place to chill while she was on vacation in Australia, but I would need to cover the first week of December, and the original offer was still standing–in regards to, here’s a place to crash if you need.  I said, yeah, you know what, I do need a place for the first week of the month, I will take you up on it.

But not on the room itself, I can’t afford it.

Then some one mentioned the room to me again last night, another outside party that is aware that I am looking.  He said, hey, how’s the search going, what about _________.  And I said, ha, too funny, I am actually going to crash there for a week.  And he chuckled, thought you weren’t planning on living there, maybe some one’s got better plans than you do.

And instead of saying, fuck you, I sagely nodded my head, and said, I hear you, you may be right.

Then I sat with the information for an hour.  What would it look like to not have to move all my shit into storage?  What would it look like to leap and believe that even if I can’t afford it right now, I will grow into affording it, what if something can be worked out?

I talked with John after that hour and he said he did not see anything wrong with the situation.  I got on my bike came home and called the person up.  We made plans for me to come over and see her house (it’s a house, I would not be moving into an apartment, it is a house with wood floors and sunshine, the room gets direct sun, it has built-in book cases, there are one and a half baths, a back yard, a garage, a basement, laundry on site, it has cable and internet all set up, its outer Mission/Excelsior, I could have my cats) this Sunday.

Alright!

This was feeling good.  I sent off an e-mail with specific questions about rent, deposit, utilities, etc.  When could I move in?  Could I move in Thanksgiving weekend?  And went to bed feeling a little more settled, a little more ok with what has been happening in my world.

I got up this morning, did my normal routine, made bed, etc, made breakfast, made coffee, and sat down to write.  I got a text message saying there was an e-mail with all the details.  I opened it up and it said, “rent is $900 plus utilities”.

I burst into tears.

I got super hot and then broke out in a cold sweat.

I can’t afford that!  My entire body screamed at me, what are you going to do now?  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I turned off my computer without responding.  THIS IS STUPID I CAN’T DO THIS, WHAT AM I THINKING, THERE WILL NEVER BE ANYWHERE I CAN AFFORD WITH TWO CATS.

Continue in this vein for about five minutes while sobbing.  I wrote fuck a lot in my morning pages.  Then I got up opened the window in the bedroom and felt the fresh air soothe me down.  I went to the bathroom and laughed out loud, I had so much eye makeup running down my face it was hysterical.  I thought I had applied a little too much this morning, well, what do you know, I got to wash half of it off.

I cleaned my face, fixed my make up and went back out to my desk to finish my morning pages.

And by the time I got to the end of my three pages I was filled with faith instead of fear and had written out all the crap I was afraid of and realized that I am sitting just fine.

Number one: the deposit is $500 plus last months rent–$1400–I will be getting back $1495 from my rental agency–so the deposit will be covered.  And she said that I would be able to go a few days without getting it to her.  Most of the time you have to pay off the deposit before you move in, without having gotten back the deposit yet from the old place.

Number two: there may be some wiggle room on the rent as she has a child and we may be able to negotiate down the rent a little if I provide some child care.  Hmmm, I used to be a nanny, long, long, long ago (eleven days.  Eleven days!  It feels like an eternity), in a galaxy far, far, away–China Basin–I may have a skill I can trade here.

Number three-I have December rent in my savings account.  I have one thousand in savings, almost exactly, I can pay December rent even without having really any true income coming in for November.

Number four–where is it written that I will be making $15/hour for the rest of my life?  This number is temporary.  I will be making more money.  I know I will.  And if I won’t, well, I have the expenses covered to at least be living somewhere for the next few months.  Some where safe and clean with some one I know and trust.  That is pretty huge.

And I like her kid, she’s adorable.  So that’s not really a hard ship.

I sat with the calculator at one point today and figured out that before taxes are taken out I would make rent and utilities with half my income.  Of course, that is before taxes are taken out.  So, I will be paying half of my income to rent.

Not what I want to do.  Not the quality of life I want to live.  I don’t have paid time off with this job, benefits, holidays, or sick leave.  Not the quality of job I want to have.

And yet, here they are, two situations that I want nothing to do with because I don’t understand how they could possibly work out and it happens to be what I am being directed to do.  I keep showing up at work and the job seems to be getting easier and I am getting faster and more proficient on the computer.  This job will not likely be the last job I ever work either.

Things change, they always do.

I can choose to let the eye make up run all over my face, or I can suck it up, have some fucking faith and walk the fuck through the fear.  If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t, but I am going to get the hell out of my own way and just show up Sunday and see what it feels like.  I know this much, I trust my gut, if it feels right I will know, and that will mean the regardless of my brain, my sick, diseased brain, telling me I can’t do it, so better not try, I will say, shut up.

I did exactly that, turned my computer back on and wrote a reply.  Thanks for the information, I look forward to seeing the room on Sunday.

 

 

Today’s A Nice Day to Commit Suicide

Or have a cup of cocoa.

All depends on your perspective.

I love the fall.  There is the crispness in the air, the smell of leaves mulching, the slant of the sunlight as it meanders across a different meridian.  But it is also a time of melancholy.

I swung between oddly placid moments of complete serenity to the verge of dark depression and then back again, without trying to at all.

Guess what I got as a result?

A head ache.

Gah.

My doctor, who is still my doctor for two more weeks, sent me a reference to her webpage via Kaiser and had me diagnose my head aches.  Classic tension head aches brought on by, c’mon, guess, you go it!  STRESS.

What stress?

An unexpected day off.  This sound antithetical, unexpected days off should be fun and wildly stress free.  Not for this lady.  I feel compelled to make things happen, get a head of the game, use my down time to move and shake and do.

I managed to start off the day pretty mellow.  I got up without my alarm, albeit I did get a phone call that woke me up, so it was sort of like an alarm, but I did not feel compelled to get out of bed any earlier because of it.  I just lay and snuggled with the cats for a few minutes.  And what do you know?  It was actually earlier than I would have gotten up with an alarm!

I did my normal routine, took some quiet time, then made breakfast (organic oatmeal with a persimmon, a banana, sea salt, raw cocoa, pumpkin pie spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and almond milk) and a French pressed pot of coffee.  I switched it up on the coffee today and had some Ritual.  It was on sale at Rainbow the last time I went and it was such a steal for Ritual that I bought it.  And I am glad I did, it was not a roast I would normally get either, and it turned out to make a fine French press.

Then I wrote three pages long hand.  I outlined my day off.  I would go to Rainbow and the MOMA and I would go check out Sight Glass, finally, and then I would swing by Whole Foods and pick up a roast to make beef vegetable soup with.  I did no such thing.

I got a call from Sarah just as I was putting the finishing touches on my make up and she was in the neighborhood and had read my blog from last night and knew I had the day off.  I was scooped up and got some nice girl catch up time and a coffee with her at Four Barrel.  Awesomeness!

Then off to Rainbow and some grocery shopping.  Being in a frugal mood, I decided to go home and make lunch instead of eating out.  I caught the Folsom 12 back to Nob Hill and made myself up a little lunch.  While I was doing this I also started setting aside things that I am going to sell at my sidewalk sale.

I have decide to have a “garage” sale next weekend.  I don’t know where I am going to live (maybe, there may be some developments here, I am loath to say anything yet, but something’s afoot) and I don’t want to worry about packing and moving a bunch of stuff around.  A sidewalk sale seems like a good way to make a few bucks and get rid of things that I don’t need.  I won’t be living on my own where ever I go, so I am going to get rid of the majority of my kitchen stuff.

I have to tell you, you may want to make your way over to my hood next weekend, there’s going to be some good stuff.  And I will let you know right now that I am putting up my cruiser bike on craigslist.  If you are a friend or family you can have it for $100, otherwise I’m selling it on craigslist for $150.  Or at the side-walk sale.  I can’t imagine I’m going to have room for two bikes when I move and my road bike is non-negotiable, it is my car.  So the cruiser goes.

Also, my Italian stove top espresso maker and my French milk frother will be going out there.  I don’t drink lattes anymore so I don’t froth milk anymore.  Almond milk doesn’t really froth.  And that’s what goes in my coffee these days.  Also, I’ve got the French press, thanks Jennifer!  And I don’t make espresso anymore.  They will truly be bargains.

It is sort of funny when I look at things I have and get to let them go, how much I invested in them or what they meant to me.  What is really important for me to move is my bed.  My computer and my printer.  My notebooks and my writing implements.  A few books (I sold off the ones today that I did not want to move to Dog Eared.  I got nowhere near what I spent on them, but I also knew I had absolutely no desire to carry them around after hauling them from Nob Hill to the Mission) that are irreplaceable to me, books my friends have given me like my Compact Oxford English Dictionary and my Pelican Shakespeare, my TS Eliot complete works, and the Langston Hughes reader Alexander Rhodeen gave me as well as a book of Sam Shepard plays and another Alex book, Travels with Charlie by John Steinbeck that he gave me when I moved cross-country.

I also sold my cds today.  That was surreal.  They all sold.  I knew they would and I was tempted to not sell them, but the fact is I have them on my Ipod and my Iphone and on my MAC.  I don’t need them on cd.  And I cannot remember the last time I pulled one of them from a sleeve to play, so off they went.  Less weight to move around as well.

After I had sold the cds I got a little overwhelmed and although I had the cash to grocery shop my heart’s content out at Whole Foods, I found that I had neither the appetite nor the desire to do so.  I just got a few staples and walked up California Street.  This was when I was hit with the fall melancholia, the just kill me now God, what is happening to me?

Then I went home and made myself a nice dinner.  I did not cook.  I did not make soup.  But I did make a nice cup of tea and I ate toast and avocado and shrimp and a really nice organic Johnagold apple.  Avocado’s and shrimp are splurges for sure and I deserved a little treat, if I do say so myself.

After wards I gathered my books and got them ready to go to Dog Eared on Valencia and 20th.  I was going to need to be in that neighborhood at 6pm, so it worked out just so.  And nope, I did not get what I wanted.  But I got something better.  I got humility and perspective.

I ran into Suzie Q who was buying books and I had a surreal deja vu moment with her when she gave me this big hug and said I would be alright and taken care of.  I had told her that when she was pretty much in the same place as I a little while back.  No job, no apartment, no money.  And look at her, lovely and doe eyed in her gloriously tall splendour (nothing says sexy like being 6 foot and wearing heels without giving a fuck about it either), doing the deal and it all worked out.

Then I heard what I needed to, funny how that happens.  I heard tonight that when we let go of things we make space for something better.

Of fuck me.

I know this.

And it has totally happened just like that before.  I just let go of a whole lot of stuff today to make way for something better.  And I have a pile of stuff accumulating in a corner (where my cafe table and chairs used to live) to let go of as well.

Making room for something better.

Why?

Because Nature abhors a vacuum.

I Want To Hide Under The Covers

And not come out.

I am feeling overwhelmed.  Today I realized that next weekend is Thanksgiving weekend, the last weekend in the month.  I also got a phone call from the rental agency asking me if I had any questions about checking out.

Yes, yes, as a matter of fact I do.

1. Where am I going to live?

2. When am I going to know where I am going to live?

3. How the hell am I going to move my stuff?

4. Where is my stuff going to go?

5. Am I going to find a place that will take cats?

6. How much will my future rent be?

Sigh.

I dislike the unknown.  I dislike change, hell even when it’s good change, change equals discomfort.  I am a creature of comfort.  I like routine, I like knowing what is going to happen next.  I don’t have any clue what is going to happen.  All I can envision is what will go in the suit case I will be living out of for the month of December and what will go in my toilette bag.

That’s it.  I don’t know where anything else is going to go or be.  Well, the cats will also be with me.

Ha.

I just had a mental picture of the cats with wee little suitcases in their paws and tiny bowler hats on their heads getting ready to go out into the world (and little vests and canes, like they’re on a walking tour.  Where the hell did that come from?).  Poor babies.  They are going to hate me.  They are already sensing that something is up.  The table and chairs I used for my dining area are gone as is a little side table that was by my rocking chair.  Out the door and down the hill and over to Beth and Kevin’s they went.  The cats can always sense when things are up, stuff moves out of the environment instead of into it.

I did find out today that next week I will have Thursday and Friday off.  Four day weekend!  That is cool.  That will be a help.  I can get a lot done and get rid of a lot of things.  I am thinking I may have a sidewalk sale.  I keep looking around and pricing things in my head.  I keep looking around and wishing that I had listened to Cass when she said that I did not need to do a lot of nesting in my apartment.  I don’t have a ton of superfluous stuff, but I have bought things for the apartment that I absolutely would not have if I had known that I would be moving again so soon.

Of course, who thinks about moving after they have just signed a year lease?  I certainly did not.  I just assumed I would continue to live up here in Nob Hill for years.  My thighs would stay hard and my butt high from all the bicycling up and down the hills and I would always fall asleep to the hum of the cable car lines running.

No more Christmas lights in Huntington Square Park for me.  No more tourists going by on the cable cars.  No more panoramic views of the down town sky line.

I will, I am hoping, have better light in my new place.  Being on the interior of an apartment building is darker than I thought.  Although not a basement apartment in any sense of the word, my place does have a bit of a subterranean feel to it as it does not get a lot of natural light.  I could use a sunnier place, for sure.  I say this to myself to dance back away from the edge of self-pity that is beginning to creep into this blog.

Things will work out, they always do.

This is my mantra.

Things will work out, they always do.

In the meantime it has been suggested to me to get into the change ups in my schedule.  To enjoy going different places.  And this has been ok.  Not great, but ok.  My routine is wonky, but I have been exploring other parts of the city as my schedule allows and have run into some folks I haven’t seen in a while.  That is nice.  And a good reminder that I know people all over the city.  That I have a fellowship of support.  I must remember this.

I am not alone.

I also have the day off tomorrow.

My general manager did not realize that I had worked six days in a row.  So we talked about it today and he said, take tomorrow off.  Ok.  I can do that.  Now what am I going to do?

Probably try to pack a little.  Maybe get rid of a few things.  Do a little grocery shopping.  Maybe I’ll go to a matinée.  I haven’t been to an afternoon movie in a long time.  That could be fun.  I could go to the MOMA.  I have not been there in a long time.  I kind of like how that sounds.  An afternoon movie and a meander around the MOMA.  Then I go over to Rainbow and pick up some groceries.  I need to make another batch of soup up too.

I’m feeling like something hearty.  Maybe beef vegetable with barley.  I haven’t made a beef vegetable soup in a long time.  That sounds good to me.  Yah.  All autumnal and seasonal.  Get lots of root vegetables, parsnips, turnips, carrots, potatoes, onions, and garlic.  Christ, I’m making myself hungry and I just had a snack.  I think it’s that I haven’t cooked meat in a while.  A long while. Soup is the ticket.

I don’t know.  I don’t have to know, I suppose.  I could just let tomorrow be a surprise.  Not set the alarm and wake up when my body says get up and do my morning writing and go from there.

Oh, and I also need to submit Baby Girl to another agency.  I must continue to submit. I found a place in Berkeley that I like the sounds of, Soft Skull, they specialize, in amongst other things, memoirs.  And they seem to have a fairly easy submittal process.  I looked them up over the weekend.

They also have an intern program.  I have been tossing around the idea that maybe that could be something interesting to do.  Not sure they are the right fit for that, I don’t think I have 20-30 hours a week available to do that, but I’m going to check it out and look at a few other places in the city and see if there may be something.

It could be interesting to do.

And probably a better idea than hiding under the covers and not coming out at all tomorrow.  I don’t have to accomplish a lot on a day off, but I feel that a little something in a forward direction is a good idea.  I keep sending out e-mails on rooms as well, never know when the right place is going to happen.

Anywho, that’s my ramble for today.

Now off to watch Dexter.

 

Hot Bath and a Cup of Jazz

Yeah, I know what I wrote.

I am thouroughly enjoying my Iphone as it is in my Ihome player shuffling my jazz collection off my computer.  I downloaded all my, well not all, but a good portion of my music onto my phone and I just recently remembered that.  It is completely different then the music I have on my Ipod.

I always listen to jazz on Sundays.  It’s my routine.  It’s my ritual, it means it is Sunday.

I don’t always take a hot bath on Sundays.  In fact, I almost never take a hot bath.  I was “complaining” to John Ater earlier that I haven’t been asked out on a date in a while and what’s up with that?  And he replied, I have a suggestion, why don’t you take yourself on a date.

Well, I do that all the time.  Then he further suggested that I make a date with a friend.  Now that is a great idea, take the focus off me getting asked out and all that “jazz”.  I will be calling some girl friends up, Beth, maybe Margo, to go see the new Twilight movie.  Shhh.  I said it.

Crossing my fingers that my special some one out there does not read my blogs and suddenly change his mind about asking me out. Ew, she’s into the Twilight movies.  Yup.  I am.

I can listen to jazz and like Twilight.  I am allowed.  But in the time being, there will be no going to the movies tonight, I have drawn a bath.  Right now, there is a hot bath in my house.

I’m not in it yet because it is too hot.  That’s why I have taken this opportunity to write my blog a little earlier than I normally would, because my bath is chilling off enough for me to get into it.  I was explaining to Beth earlier that my bathroom is located directly over the hot water heater for the entire building, thus the cats like to hang out in there and will oft-times literally sleep in the bathtub or directly underneath it.  It’s a claw foot, there’s space for a kitty to get cozy up under there.

Which means, that my water is hot, hot, hot.  I ran my tub full, with bubbles, thank you very much, with the cold water tap open full force and the hot water half-open and it’s still too hot to get into.  I could have just ran the cold water, but I wanted enough water power to make some bubbles.  It’s just that much more satisfying to get into.  But that means letting it cool down enough.  Man, my problems sure are harsh.

The other reason I’m running a bath is that I have a head ache.  It’s the same head ache I often get–focused right between my eyes and there’s this weird little ridge of muscle that gets tight and swells up.  I am fairly certain this is a tension head ache.  But I am not for certain.  I haven’t gone to the doctor around it in some time and now, since I’ve cancelled my health insurance and only have two weeks left on it, only now, have I thought, maybe I ought to do something about this.

I also have been, as long as I’m getting honest, this very odd floating sensation when I look down, especially when I’m writing long hand in my journal in the morning.  It’s not so bad when I’m writing on the computer, although it does happen.  But it’s really disconcerting when I’m writing long hand and it’s been happening now for about two and a half, maybe three weeks.

I just acknowledged it, to myself about three days ago as it’s gotten to the point when I’m writing that I can’t ignore it.  I have been forcing myself to do my writing and just power through and then I forget about it until I am up again the next morning writing.

I have been getting these head aches for so long that I don’t think much of them.  They are obnoxious and they don’t feel good.  Literally, but I just put up with the pain.

I am thinking that perhaps this is not the best idea.  And as I was canoodling around trying to figure out how I should spend my Sunday evening in, the thought crossed my mind of, maybe you should go see your doctor about this and maybe you should see a opthamologist about this.  Maybe.  I thought, I could go on Kaiser’s website and see if they have any openings.  I should do that.

Yeah, should.

That’s great, how about I just do it?

I have some fears, I will admit, I am afraid of wearing glasses again.  I had laser surgery done about ten years ago now and I’m afraid that there’s something wrong with my eyes, thus the headaches, but I don’t want there to be anything wrong with my eyes, so I’ve been ignoring it.

I am having breakfast with John Ater in the morning before I go into work.  I already know I have to tell him and I can already here his response, so maybe what I should do is just get on the fucking stick and go see my doctor while I still have a doctor I can see.

I mean, I watch a lot of Grey’s Anatomy, right, I’m a brain surgeon, right?

Sigh, not a doctor, not a doctor, not a doctor.  Just because I think I know what’s best for me, does not mean that it is.  In fact, it probably means the exact opposite.  I will finish up this blog, take some ibuprofen, see I know it’s bad when I do that, I never take anything for it and this will be the second time this week I’ve taken ibuprofen.  It’s gotten bad.

I know it may also be from stress.

What stress?

Oh, I don’t know, Martines.  New job.

Lease ending in apartment, no new home to go to.  Just keep whistling in the dark, nothing’s wrong here.  I know I’m taken care of, but I believe my head does not.  And I am prone to stress migraines.  Something else I don’t admit to anyone and something that for the last six and a half years I have refused to address.  I get head aches all the time.  I don’t address it.  Them.  Them.  It means one, them means many.

Before I moved to San Francisco I did once go in and see a doctor about the migraines.  He said, you are not telling me classic migraine symptoms, then spotting a future alcoholic, he asked me some really interesting, relevant (although I did not understand them at the time) questions about my habits and my family.  He said that my cigarette smoking was a sign of a poor way I was handling the stress.  I was 23 at the time.  Fifteen years later, maybe it’s time to see another doctor.

Why I find this interesting now is that after having a very frank and open talk with this man I never saw again, he said, well, as long as you’re here, let’s just check you out.  And what do you know, it turns out that there were broken blood vessels in the backs of my eyes–a sign that I was actually having migraines.  Albeit migraines that don’t show classic tells.

And head aches that I just put up with and don’t tell anyone I have.  The doctor said they were stress migraines.

Thus, the bath.  Taking a hot bath is supposed to reduce stress.  And jazz.  And maybe, making an appointment to be seen might be helpful too.

Sigh.

Signing off my blog.

Signing into Kaiser.

Then getting into the bathtub, the water should be just about right.

And So It Begins

The dismantling of my home.

Sigh.  I just got it all together.  It just looks so nice.  Oh well, so it goes.  It’s just stuff right?  Stuff that I got to have for a little while and now some one else gets to have it for a while.

Tomorrow Beth and Kevin are coming over to take my cafe table and chairs away to their place.  I am really happy I get to be of service and it is one little thing that I won’t have to worry about moving out with the rest of my stuff.

When it gets right down to it, I can and have moved very lightly.  I took an entire household of stuff and got rid of it in one weekend in Madison before moving into a temporary room situation with three other housemates for the summer.  Then I lived in a two bedroom apartment and re-established only to it dismantle again a year later.

I moved across county nine years ago with all my personal belongings in a two door Honda Accord.  I moved into a sublet on 20th and York.  The sublet last two months.  Then one of the room mates went crazy (stole an ambulance at the airport–can anyone say meth induced psychosis?  I can.).  I stayed in that room for a couple of months, then the owner sold the house out from underneath us.  I found a place a few blocks away on 22nd and Alabama.  I lived there for less than a year before moving over to a two bedroom on 25th and Potrero.

After being there for less than a year I re-located to lower Bernal and lived in a weird little subterranean basement room in a kind of dank basement level in-law situation off of Mission and 30th with a crazy Jesuit who told me that my “activities” were disturbing his living environment.  He was celibate.  CELIBATE.  Not only did he not have sex with others he did not have sexy sex with himself.  For 16 years.

He was under the impression that having gotten recently sober that I was also celibate.  As that’s how he did it–he stopped drinking and gave himself to Jeebus.

Holy mother of God.  Where in the bible does it say give up alcohol means giving up sex?  Oh, and if it does say it, don’t bother telling me, I don’t want to know.  I mean I may not be in the market for casual sex, I will have myself in a relationship before I get to the intimacy of having sex with someone, but I cannot fathom the idea of giving it up completely.

I informed him that was fortunately not a staple of my recovery.  I moved out abruptly upon finding out that he had broken his celibacy (in my room, using my goody bag.  YUCK, YUCK, YUCK, AND DOUBLE FUCKING YUCK.  I promptly threw away my things–boiling will not take away the mental taint–and gave notice).

Then I moved to Kansas and 25th and lived with two crazy lesbians.  Crazy.  Call the fucking cops crazy.  I am not kidding you.  One of them I fell in love with, she was just a doll and had the best pit bull, a blue named Lola that would just smother you with great big kisses (she was trained to greet people with stuffed toys, so if she liked you, she would root out her favorite toys to give to you.  And if she really liked you, all three of them at once, which was really crazy and funny to see, Lola was also fond of my cat Uni and would try to snuggle with her.  Uni did not always take to this, but put up with it in a very queenly way).  I once got a phone call at work from my favorite room-mate telling me that her now ex had moved out but was crazy pants stalking her and had gotten violent and maybe I did not want to come home yet, like go chill in a coffee shop until I call you, as she’s frothy at the mouth and the cops are on the way.

Alrighty then.  Time to once again move.

I then moved out to Bayview–Palou just off of third street.  My friend Kevin would occasionally drop me off there and he joked that it was like taking a time warp from San Francisco and suddenly being in Compton.

What?  They were only three drive by shootings the month I moved in.  Come on now.

After that I moved back to the Mission 23rd and Capp St.  I lived there for two years before branching out on my own and finding my little studio up here in Nob Hill.  My first place by myself in San Francisco.  My first real lease in San Francisco.  Only took seven years to make that happen.  A year and seven months later I signed another lease and voila, I’m in a one bedroom.

Then I had to go and do Calling in the One, realize I was madly unhappy in my career choice, do a bunch of spiritual work out in the desert, come back inform my employers that I had a change of heart regarding working as a nanny and was going to go to school.

Oops.  That did not happen.

But the Universe continued rolling on anyhow.  And they found child care and I found that it did not matter that I was taking a pay cut when I would be getting a happiness increase.  And said, fuck school anyhow, I don’t need me no more school, or at least I don’t apparently need any more student loans at this time.  But I do need to move again.

Again.

I am moving again.

Where?  Don’t know.  But  I do know this.  I am going to be alright.  I had a few moments of panic today and I may have a few moments again, oh hell, you know I will, but for right now, I can look around, be grateful for the time I got here and know that it may be uncomfortable for a while, couch surfing through December, but that it will get better.  It has always gotten better, despite the bullshit machine in my brain spouting the fear propaganda.

I may cry a little, or a lot, please, I know myself, and I may struggle with asking for help.  I am going to need help moving, I already know that, but I will get to grow through it and I will be taken care of.

When, I ask, have I not?

I Need A New Raincoat

I could fit another person inside my current rain coat.  It is, shall we say, a little bit too big.

I was demonstrating this to Beth tonight.  When I got this rain coat I was desperate, the rainy season had begun and I had already been bike commuting to work in the rain for a solid week.  I was wet all the time.  This is no fun in San Francisco with its chilly winds and drafty houses.

I was waiting for Friday to roll around so that I could get paid and hustle over to Sports Basement and get me a nice raincoat.  I was going to splurge on a good one, I was tired of cheap rain gear and had become an official bicycle commuter by that point.  I had graduated from my hybrid city bike to a one speed free wheel and was definitely cruising about town feeling fine, except when it rained, then life sucked buckets.

I got to Sports Basement, saw the coat I wanted and immediately despaired.  It was too small.  And it was an extra-large.  They did not have any other coats in stock that were larger either.  This was it.  OR I could wear a rain poncho.

No fucking way.

I sucked in my tummy and zipped that puppy up.  I could make it work, I would make it work, this was going to work, damn it.

I made it work.  I wasn’t happy riding around in my too tight x-large North Face rain jacket, but I was dry.  I wasn’t warm, because I could not layer a sweatshirt or sweater underneath it, but I was dry, and that’s what counted.

Besides, the rain was fast falling and I was sick to death of riding around sodden.  I sighed and checked out paying around $85 for the jacket.  I thought, well, it’s worth the investment, I will have it for a while.

And yup, it has stood me well through two rainy seasons.  But as the beginning of this one has me pulling out the rain coat from the closet, I realized, holy shit, batman, this coat does not fit at all.  I remember thinking that last year, hmmm, seems a bit big, but it did not really register.  Now, it’s crazy big.  It’s so big on me that it is a little hard for me to fathom that this was the same jacket that I bought nearly three years ago, It’s stupid big.

And I distinctly remember looking at myself in the mirror at Sports Basement thinking, well, I look like a sausage, but it’ll have to work.  I was sad and I was resigned.

Frankly, I can’t wait to get a new jacket.  All my clothes are mediums.  MEDIUM.  I am average.  I fucking love that.

And technically I’m “below” average.  As the current average American woman wears a size 14.  I am currently a size 10.

Want to know when I was a size 10 before?

Never.

I have never been a size 10.  Not as an adult, not since before the age of twelve, thirteen maybe?  Can’t remember.  I just went straight to big girl land.  I have been a size ten now for about six, seven months.  I think the weight has stabilized.  As much as I would love to drop another  25 lbs.

I have this idea of a perfect weight.  Which is total bull, but I have the thought.  Just putting it out there.

When my friend Arin saw me earlier this week she looked askance at me and said, “you’re not losing any more weight are you?”

And I told her no, the weight loss has seemed to leveled off, but I want to lose 25 more pounds.

She shook her head at me and said, no, no, no, or something akin to that.  I was skinny enough.

Oh, say it again, Mrs. Fishkin.  I like hearing that I am skinny.

What is funny is that I still tend to think I’m the sausage girl trying to squeeze into something that I’m really hoping will fit in an x-large.  I have moved on from gravitating toward the large sizes at the store, but I still will catch something out of the corner of my eye and think, no, that would look silly on me, I’m too fat.

For instance, I have three cute belts.  None of which I wear in public.  Last time I wore one of them I was a size twelve and everyone was exclaiming over how good I looked.  But I was uncomfortable wearing my shirt tucked into my pants.  Sigh.  I still am.  I am actually a size smaller than when I last wore that belt and every time I have put it on, I still think, nope that just doesn’t look right, maybe when I’m a size 8.

Christ, I know where that one goes.

Frankly, I’m doing great.  I am doing better than great.  I am in the best shape of my life, I’m in a  new job that is going somewhere, I am healthy and gorgeous.  I won’t be better or happier or saner if I am a size 8.  I know my weasel brain, it will then cook up some bullshit idea about how life would actually begin at size 6 and then I’ll get the boyfriend, the better place to live, the fill in the blank.

Yeah, because a smaller pants size will score me a boyfriend.  Fact is I was in long-term relationships at my heaviest weights.  The reverse has happened–I am at my lowest weight and single.  Now, I will be the first to admit that they were not healthy relationships, I was just in them.  But my sneak of a brain will whisper, you were dating.

Yes, true, but I was not happy.  Repeat, I was miserable.

Now I am in the healthiest relationship of all, with little old me, pun intended.  I am gorgeous, I am healthy, and I need a new rain coat, pretty awesome my problems are.

Brain Break

Sadly enough, my best time at work today was when I was mindlessly feeding in spoke cards into the laminating machine.  My poor little brain got a much-needed break.

If I were to do that task very often I think I would crack from boredom, but it was the perfect task to help me close out my day.  My general manager even noted it, that it’s sometimes nice to have a little noodling kind of task to let the brain rest and recharge.

He also re-iterated that I was exactly where I was supposed to be in regards to learning that job and that even he, having been with the company for two years, still gets overwhelmed with everything.  The business is growing that rapidly and apparently everyone is struggling to keep up.  That was nice to hear.

I know for fact that I had more than a few instances where I must have looked like a deer in the head lights.  I also made one trip to the bathroom in tears.  Although I am fairly certain that no one noticed that.  At least I’m hoping not.  I was able to get it under control and go back to the tasks at hand.

And unfortunately “ass man” was not in the building today so I had no one cute to flirt with.  A few customers that were worth looking at, but I had my head down for so much of the day, I don’t think I even registered anything other than what was in front of me.  A few times I just looked down at my feet and said, ok, the next thing you do here is walk down stairs; then you are going to put this box down and pick up that box, then you can worry about not knowing how to do that program in the computer.

I am definitely having a crash course in how to manoeuver around on a MAC.  This is a good thing as I have a MAC.  I think the most I currently do with my computer is write my blog and check my e-mails.  I also down load movies and tv shows to watch after I finish writing my blog.  On tonight’s viewing menu–Grey’s Anatomy, Top Chef, and yes, get your hater on, Americas Next Top Model.  I don’t know why I like the show, but I do.  There is some guilty pleasure to it.  Maybe it’s that the outlandish drama of it makes my life seem normal.  Who knows, but it’s currently ready for me to get my blog done so that I may recline with my laptop and watch some stupidity (it’s not reality tv, stupidity tv seems like a better moniker).

There was a little while there when I first got my computer that all I used it for was to watch movies I rented from Lost Weekend Video.  I was basically using it like it was a VCR.  I have slowly, oh so slowly begun using other aspects of it.  I have Ipages where Baby Girl lives, Iphoto where all my photos live and Itunes–my music library.  I know there are lots and lots of other things I can do with the computer and I am beginning to learn them.

God, I remember when I was excited to get the Columbia House package in the mail with my cassette tapes.  Remember those?  Madonna, INXS, and The Police where some of my first purchases.  I had an old fashioned, huge, boom box and I would crank it up and dance around my room.  That was technology for me.  Or my Walkman, I remember getting that and just being astounded by the ingenuity of it, my first cassette tape?  Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

Yup.

So, when I think about it, I have come a really long way with my computer skills.  In fact I was telling some one about how the guy that I went on one date with keeps googling the blog that I wrote about that date, I know this because I can read the track backs on the blog and see the search engine terms that were employed to find it (his name and “a date with”).  She looked at me in wonder and said, “you are so tech savvy”.

I just about fell over.  I do not feel tech savvy whatsoever.  I am however learning and I keep telling myself to be grateful for this experience.  I know, know without a doubt in my mind that once I get down all the systems at work that I am going to be a rock star there.  I can see it.

It reminds me of when I first started working at the Angelic Brewing Company and they used touch screens with the Aloha system. I could not keep up  I had been used to being the General Manager of a restaurant that was still using paper tickets and the absurd little receipt paper rolls (I just learned yesterday how to use the Squared App from Apple which allows you to run sales applications on your Ipad or Iphone–I’ll be using it at the SF Bike Expo, it is amazing.) that constantly needed replacing.  Before long I was whipping through the touch screens so fast my fingers were just a blur.

That is what will happen here.  I repeat, that is what will happen for me now.

Fortunately, I remembered this and I did not talk myself out of my job today.  I have had a few moments where I think that’s it, I am a fraud, they need to just hire some one else.  Then something will click and I get it and I’m e-mailing and doing and sending out packages and in-putting into Quick Books.  I just have to keep practising patience with myself and keep showing up and doing my best to be of service.

Sometimes that’s just acknowledging a customer or smiling.  It does not all have to be accounting and computer.  Sometimes it will be feeding spoke cards into the laminating machine and staring dumbly at them as they slowly pop out the other side of the machine, warm to the touch and ready to slide into the spokes of some one’s new bicycle.

And God, let’s not forget the bicycle.  They are beautiful.  They really are.  And I do want one, I really do.  I will wait however, until I know where I am living.  Ah, yeah, that.  Three weeks.  I move into my temporary housing in three weeks.  I still cannot quite fathom that.  I’ll probably put off thinking about it for another week or so and then it will raise its little head and holler at me to pay it some attention.

For right now the only thing that is about to get my attention is some Tyra Banks.