Well, Well, Well

by

What do you know?

I have had an eye-opening day today.  And I got to go shake my booty at the Elbow Room tonight with Beth, Nicole, and Radha.  I love being able to go out and get in good dance then split before it gets crazy.

We were there from 10:30 pm til midnight.  Perfect.  I would have like it if the music got going a little sooner and was maybe a touch more upbeat, but I got a nice groove on and I can feel a little burn in the thighs, so I got my exercise.

I also got hit on by babies.

Babies.

I have had tattoos longer than some of them have had facial hair.

Shit this one wee one could not have even been of age, his face was smoother than the bottom of a newborn.  Maybe he had a mom thing going on.   I’m  a MILF now?  Although, I have no kids, so a cougar?  Or, what did Mister West Oakland call me?

A puma.

Yeah.

Glad I stayed in the city for my dancing.  Instead of hauling over to Oakland.  Although, I do like the People’s Party.  And I would like to make another one of them.  Just not this weekend.

What has actually blown me away about this evening is a small chain of events that started last week and has been dominating its way through my ego over the last few days.  The further acknowledgement of my dyslexia.

I told John Ater about it last night.  He looked at me, “girl”.  And just shook his head.  I can keep some secrets pretty damn well.  I have been working with John for over four years.  And he never knew.

And he told me that it was time I took care of myself.  And oh, wait, that’s right, to stop punishing myself.

Jesus, did he and Carolyn get together behind my back when I was not looking?

Apparently this weeks theme is stop being mean to yourself.  Ok.  I hear you, you may be right.

I took good care of myself today.  I slept in.  I actually got up and was going to stay up and then, I peed, well, that’s what I did, shut up, and I went back to bed.  I slept in.  9:45a.m.  Damn Gina.

Then I had lovely hot breakfast.  Went to Valencia Gardens and saw lovely people.  Then had coffee with Stephanie at Four Barrel.  After a good check in I headed to Rainbow and I got myself sexy food.

I got the perfect mango, an avocado, bib lettuce, a tangelo, a pound of Stump Town Holler Mountain, garlic and black pepper tofu, Pink Lady Apples, a Roma tomato.  I just let my eyes feed me, what ever looked pretty or smelled good, I bought.

Homeward bound late afternoon I dropped the groceries off at the house, then slipped on the flip-flops and padded over to my ghetto fabulous nail salon and got my nails did.  And my eyebrows waxed.  And caught up on the latest W.  Which reminds me, I never got my Nylon subscription, my Vogue subscription, or my W subscription forwarded.

Damn you USPS.

Back to the house for dinner.  And then up to Noe Valley to meet Radha for tea.  I swung into Ambiance and got the cutest little grey and black striped mini dress and a faux antique pair of cameo earrings.  For under $50.

Yes.

Drum roll now please.  The epiphany.  The letting go.  The giving my shit up.  Being vulnerable.  Saying the dirty word out loud.

I shared tonight that I have dyslexia.  It was hard and yes, that’s right, I cried.  What else is fucking new?

But I got some relief.  And that was what John was talking about.  And I got some unexpected help.  Out of nowhere I am approached by a woman I have known for five years but not very well.  It turns out she has dyslexia too.

Not the kind with letters either.  The kind with numbers!  And she’s a book-keeper!

Holy shit batman.

What?

She knows Quick Books like the back of her hand.  She told me that I have nothing to worry about.  That once I learn it and have a system in place I will blow everyone else out of the water, because I know that I have a difficulty seeing sequential numbers I will do what I have done before.

I will create systems of safeguards.  I will double, triple, quadruple check my work.  In other words, I am a businesses wet dream.  Because I know I will install safeguards.

She told me that she also knows that her mind can only take three maybe four hours and then she has to stop looking at the computer.  She has to move onto another task. That is my experience exactly.  I related to her what happened this past Tuesday when I was doing inventory at the shop and she was not surprised at all, I had pushed myself past the point.

I had exhausted my brain.

It is rather like I have an off switch.  I can do so much then I need to stop.  But the up side is this–I will do it better and faster and with more attention to detail than anyone else.  I will make the perfect book-keeper.

Hell, I may even look into doing accounting.

Who the fuck knew that having admitted this would open up a new career path?

What?

Excuse me?

I was just telling Carolyn on Thursday that I did not know what I wanted to do.  That I had no clue.  I mean, I want to write, which is what I am doing now, and I want to continue writing, and I want to get published.  But until that happens, as I just got another rejection in the mail, I need a career.  I need something where in I can make some money, honey.

Greta, the woman who talked to me tonight, told me that a book-keeper who knows Quick Books will earn $20-$25 an hour.  Bring it on.  Further, an accountant will earn at least $100 an hour.  Bring it on.

The irony of being told by a woman who has the same dysfunctional brain that I do, who can’t tell right from left, over from under, or do fractions, is a book-keeper and that I can become one too, is mind-boggling.

A paradox.

A divine gift.

I am blessed to have such “problems”.

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