Is That Barnaby?


Yes.

Yes, it is Barnaby.

He is not a made up imaginary friend.  Although my brain is super prone to fantasy, he is the real deal.

I think that tattoos gave him away.

He looks good, he looks French.  Well, he acts French, I got the double cheek buss tonight.  I love being greeted in the French fashion, kiss kiss.

It was good to see him in the flesh and realize that this is not actually that big a deal.

I mean, yes, I am planning on moving to Paris, but if Barnaby can do it, then so can I. Some one did it before him and some one will do it after me.  The awesome thing is that I can ask for help from Barnaby and then I get to turn around and share my experience with some one else.

I am not the only person in the whole world who has dreamed of moving to Paris.  I bet there’s just loads of information out there.

Actually there is too much information out there.  I get overwhelmed with the websites and the blogs and the internet searches and the craiglist postings.  It can be a lot of information to sift through.

Most of the time I just want to throw up my hands and say, enough!  Just enough.  Too much info, too much input, brain is full, stand by for download.

I was just reminded of that part of the Matrix where Keanu Reeves is plugged in and in a mere nano second has downloaded to his brain every single style of martial arts available to man kind.

“I know kung fu,”  he said with awe.

That’s kind of what my dream is.

“I know French.”

Or

“I know how to move across the globe without breaking a sweat, be able to pay off all my student loans, and transfer my phone number to an international one, get a Visa, passport, and a place to live, secure a job, and a bank account, and hey, while I’m at it, let me just download a husband and a town house in the 13 arrondisement as well.”

Is there a website for that?

Today, it was what would it take to get a student Visa?

Honestly, by the time I spent a half hour on it I wanted to say, fuck this whole idea, I’m staying in San Francisco and working at the bike shop for the rest of my life.  I will only live in the Mission, I’ll just get a tattoo every once in a while and I will live a life of quiet and desperate futility.

Thanks internet.

I am grateful, oh, so grateful that I don’t do this alone.  I do this life with guidance and love and compassion and humor.

I had some wonderful laughs with Carolyn before I went to work today.  We normally meet at Ritual, but she had some appointments that kept her house bound, so I rode my bike up into Noe Valley this morning before heading off to the salt mines.

We had coffee in her kitchen and her cat Jim leapt in and out of my lap.

We laughed about our crazy and I got to honestly share how I can see my whirly gig thoughts around this travel and this trip and what I am doing.

I get spun up into a frenzy, then I create some drama, then I feel like an ass when I have let the cat out of the bag and it doesn’t turn out the way I think it should, or I want.

Could going to Paris be that exact thing?

Sure.

In fact, it probably is.

So, with some help, and lots of perspective, this is the goal.  For today, live in today.  Keep taking actions, but not the ones I “think” will make me happy or will help me to figure it out.

Keep showing up and being honest with Carolyn.  Keep talking about what the crazy pants party in my head is sharing with me.  I realize that when it’s a story, it’s dishonest or its fantasy.

When its simple and supposed to happen, it will and it will fall into place with out me telling some show boat drama pants story.

I am writing about it, yes.  I am talking to my friends about it yes, I am investigating yes.  Am I moving to Paris?

I don’t know.

And today, for right now, that is ok.

Am I planning to take another action toward that goal of moving to Paris?

Yes.

So, what happens next?  I take some action, does not have to be what I think it should be, but just an action, direct my attention and my thoughts, perhaps, to helping others, and then let go of the results.

If it’s supposed to happen it will happen with out me mucking around in it or manipulating it.

I have more time to meet with Barnaby tomorrow.  He was beat and hungry and I had to get home tonight after my commitments to write and to get ready for a busy Saturday in the Mission.

We will meet up tomorrow evening in Noe Valley and we will discuss more.

It was just great to see him, get hugs, be next to a friend who has seen me grow up a lot over the last seven years, talk tattoos–he really likes my dragons–he has good taste!  And just begin the discussion.

If anything, I get to look at this as an adventure in getting to know myself and my friend better.  What better way than to confab about Paris and the day-to-day life of moving there?

It is exciting, but excitement, though, well, titillating and dramatic, is not really what I want.  I rather want the serenity of that cerulean blue, faded, porcelain sky over the Musee Romantique that I captured in my mind’s eye over a Pellegrino and a cafe creme at a cafe one late afternoon toward the end of my ten days in Paris.

It is the same sense of peace and tranquility that I get when I sit in my favorite cafe outside in San Francisco and stare at the sky and feel the warm sun on my face.

I am with God

And its all good.

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