Paris is Burning (Man)


My heart is yearning, Paris is burning (man), Paris is burning (man).

Double whammy.


Where the hell do I even begin?

Let’s start with:

Your request has been approved for Carmen Martines (aka: Media Mecca Fluffer)

Your confirmation # is (fill in the blank, I ain’t posting up my Burning Man ticket number in case one of y’all decides to get your happy ass to roll call at the gate and try to use it.  Won’t matter none any how because I’ll be getting my paper ticket in person this Thursday)

Message: Thank you, Carmen!

(1) – Gift – Black Rock City 2012

I am going to Burning Man.  In less than twenty-four hours my ticket was approved, early arrival was approved I was confirmed as the Media Mecca official fluffer (nutter) and I got a tent from Jennifer, a sleeping pad from Megan, and yes, that’s right, a ride to the event from Mrs. Fishkin.


I am overwhelmed with gratitude, love, joy, excitement.  I cannot tell you how many times I “eeped” out loud and jumped up and down.

I’m going to Burning Man, I’m going to Burning Man, I’m going to Burning Man.

I am so excited.  I got the time off approved, my GM just sat right down and the computer and said just tell me what dates, of course you’re going.  In fact, he told me that some one had put in a request for the weekend of Burning Man (not to go to the event, some other trivial thing, ya know) and he told me that he did not approve it because despite me saying I did not think I was going, he thought I was.

I am!

I talked on the phone with my Media Mecca Mistress Ms. Lee Anna this morning and confirmed it all up.  She has put me down on the official map for the event, I will be camping next to her and Megs and John Curley (oh stop my heart is just going to beat with joy out my chest, I get to be next to Curley too!) and Will Chase and Megan and Lee Anna and Nurse.

I am dying.



In my wildest I did not see this happening.  I just did not.  Amazing what happens when I get the hell out-of-the-way.  Amazing what happens when I stop insisting that it has to go this way.  I am no longer playa nanny.

I am now the fluffstress.

I am going to get silly with the moniker, you know I am.

Stephanie saying to me, “you know, I mean, you know, don’t you, your mouth just screams blow job.”


Fluff this bitches.

Now add to the happy mix this news, just in:


Departing Flight Leaving San Francisco, CA  (SFO) at 10:20 AM on  Thursday, November 1,  2012
Arriving Paris , France  (CDG) at 8:40 AM on  Friday, November 2,  2012
Flight From To Travel Time/Class
American Airlines
 Flight 2137
San Francisco Intl (SFO)
San Francisco, CA
10:20 AM
Dallas/Fort Worth Intl (DFW)
Dallas, TX
3:45 PM

Oh yes, that little thing.
That is the second ticket confirmation I received today in my gmail inbox.
I am moving to Paris.
It is on.
I fly out Thursday, November 1st, 2012 @ 10:20 a.m. from the International Hub at SFO to Paris.  One brief layover in Dallas then over night to Paris.  Arriving at Charles De Gaulle Friday, November 2nd at 8:40 a.m.  Just in time to hit the morning markets.
Oh holy mother of God.
I have done it.  The ticket is bought.  I am moving to Paris.
I am moving to Paris.  I am moving to Paris.  I am moving to Paris.
And I found a ticket for about a hundred less than I was thinking I was going to spend.
Yes, mom, I bought a round trip ticket, so if anything should go wrong, I have an out.  If I get deported, not going to happen, I have an out.  If I hate it, not going to happen, I have an out.  I bought one with a three month turn around time, as that is how long my passport is good for when traveling to Europe.
Mrs. Fishkin reminded me to talk to Ellen, who I had totally spaced about, moved to Paris and had lived there and I completely forgot about that.  I nannied a few times for her and I definitely need to sit and chat with her and with Robyn, who is has been pointed out to me as well, lived in Paris.
I called Barnaby when I got home tonight and left a message.  I said I’m ready let’s do this.  He called me back and said, pull the trigger, I will see you in the city on Saturday.
So I pulled the trigger.
My bank account is now significantly less fat, but I am still solvent for this month.
Mrs. Fishkin also told me, time to tell the Universe that you need more money.
Ok then.
I would like to make more money, Universe.  However, I don’t want to work more hours, I don’t think I could possibly cram another hour of work into my schedule.  Mrs. Fishkin said ask you and you will receive, but be specific, and I realized, shit, I have asked before and gotten just that, more money.
I also ended up working for crazy neurotic parents that drove me up the wall with their micro-managing.
I want to work some where creative and fun, somewhere I learn more and get to be of service, utilize my people skills, I am good with people, have fun, did I say have fun?  Yes, be in the mix in the culture. Get to see people I love, engage with the community, write, and be paid well.
Live abroad.
Like, oh, in Paris.
Oh my gosh.
I just got off the phone with John Ater, I called him first.  I got to thank him, and he said, “honey, I didn’t do anything, you did all the work.”
I agree to disagree, a tiny bit.
He listened to me, he told me to breathe, he told me to follow my heart, he told me to write, he told me to stop stepping on my own neck, he told me to be grateful for the pain because that is what turns me toward my higher power and the spiritual solution.
He told me the truth.  He told me I was lovable and worthy of love.  He showered me with love, still does.  I am forever in his debt and if I am able to pass along just a modicum of what he has given me, it won’t be enough to express all I have received.
I am the luckiest girl alive.
I am going to Burning Man and I am moving to Paris.

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