No News Bears

by

Nothing new here.  No new epiphany.  No new place to live.  No new man in my life.  No book publishing contract coming down the pike.  Nothing of interest to report.

Rather makes for a boring blog.  I have absolutely no idea what I am going to write about.  I am just going to write.  Random thoughts from the archives.

Work is working itself out.  I am gradually taking on more responsibilities and getting to know the lay of the land better and better.  I feel more competent and I am liking my job more and more.  This is nice.  I was worried for a moment there that I would be stuck working a job I don’t like and making very little at it.

While still making small beans, I am at least enjoying being there and starting to stretch my wings a little and make myself not quite so small and take on a few projects here and there.  I am being useful and that is nice.  I like being useful.  I like be of service.

I did not sell a bike today, but I did get my picture taken with a customer.  They were on vacation from Chicago and just happened to pop into the store.  I gave them the low down on what we do and then we just struck up a conversation about the locals and the coffee houses and where would be a good place to walk around and they’re vegans did I have any recommendations for food.

There are vegans in Chicago?

We chatted about Gratitude and Herbivore and Ritual versus Four Barrel (Four Barrel hands down).  I gave them a little map of the area and it was a nice little friendly Midwestern style chatty chat.  They liked me so much the husband, Roger, asked me to take a picture with the wife, Beth.  So I did.

I felt like one of those ambassadors you see on Market street and Powell directing the ravaging packs of tourist on how to get to Macy’s in Union Square.  Except I was giving them the lowdown on the best stuff in the Mission.  As well as doing my level best to explain why the Tenderloin is what it is and why the city has not done something more with the situation.

I don’t know that I was the best ambassador to the Tenderloin, but I was pretty on the mark.  I was actually surprised that they were staying in a hotel in that neighborhood. They must be in the TenderNob.  I can’t imagine this couple being in the true ‘Loin.  They could probably hold their own, vegans are pretty tough, and if you’re making it as a vegan in the Midwest, you got some cajones.  But none the less, I would not want my vacation to San Francisco to be anywhere near the Tenderloin.

Although, I do like grit.  And I do like being in neighborhoods that are neighborhoods when I travel.  I like flavor.  The last time I was in Paris I was in a outerlying neighborhood.  And it reminded me often of the Mission.  Then again, Paris and San Francisco often seem like sister cities to me.  Something about the kind of light here and there, the quality of sunsets and the clarity of air.

Granted, right about now I would love to be in Paris.  Couch surfing in Paris sounds so much more glamorous then couch surfing in San Francisco.  Of course, let’s be really  up front, couch surfing in San Francisco is probably the best couch surfing there is in the US.  Although I did just get a picture of couch surfing in Hawaii.  That would be hot.

Maybe I’ll just couch surf the rest of my life.  Now wouldn’t that be interesting?

It was suggested to me last night that perhaps I write down everything that I want in my perfect space.  Visualize it.

My perfect space has hard wood floors, big bay windows with window seat or nook.  It is in a Victorian.  It is with people who don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs.  It is clean and sunny, sunny, sunny.  It is in the Mission, my favorite place in the city.  Sorry Nob Hill, you’ve been nice to me and I like you quite a bit, but now that I am working in the Mission, I want back pretty badly.

I would be able to have my cats.  There would be laundry on site.  I would have enough room for my bed and a desk and a cozy place to read a book.  I would be able to have guests over to the home and if I ever have a boyfriend again he would be welcome.  There would be good water pressure in the shower and hot water that did not run out.  There would be built in book cases and high ceilings.  It would cost me $450 a month.

That number is not arbitrary, by the way.  It was a suggestion to me made a long time ago that I not pay more than 1/4 of my salary to rent.

Have you figured out what I make yet?

I will sit and visualize this.

The question is also, what actions could be taken around this?  Oh, fuck, there I go, figuring it out again.  Sigh.  I seem incapable of not trying to figure it out.  I really do have some fucked thinking.  I am doing it wrong, I am not taking the right direction, I am stuck trying load the post-it note dispenser and I just want to throw the damn thing at the wall.

SERENITY NOW

Hollering doesn’t seem to work either.

Things that do.  Staying present.  Being grateful for my friend whose couch I am sitting on right now.  Being honest with the fact that I am struggling.  Letting go of my ideas. Surrender.  Letting myself flounder.  Taking action, any action, even if it feels silly, see above visualization.  Letting go of the results and trying some thing, anything every day.  Staying positive.

Believe that the place is there.  The sunny room is there.  The one with big windows.  I can feel the sun on my shoulders as I sit with a book and breathe in deep.  I am rested. I am rejuvenated. I am in a good place.

I am in a good place right now.

“Nothing” may be happening right now, but that’s great.

Because nothing’s wrong.

I do not need to be fixed.

I am exactly who, what, and where I am supposed to be.

Comfy on the couch.

 

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