Aw, Look It You

by

Trying to figure it out again.

Stop it lady.

Just stop it.

I had some good conversations with Ms. Joan tonight.

She picked me up from Graceland and we headed into the city.

The city I thought would be shrouded in fog, but was actually clear and sparkling and pretty.

I forgot how shiny it can be at dusk, purple hued, dusted soft in lavender and greys, the shimmer of the water, Alcatraz a dark smudge floating in the vastness of the Bay.

It was a gorgeous view.

It got me out of my head and the fixation of figuring it out.

I was up late last night chatting with a friend who recommended I look into copy writing.

I know nothing about copy writing.

He gave me some great suggestions and I spent a vast amount of time researching today what went into being a copywriter.  Then I spent a lot of time haunting craigslist.

Then I got punked out by the process and mid-afternoon plunked myself down on the couch to watch The Hobbit with my room-mate.

Slight aside.

Shame on you Peter Jackson.

Some one needs to take you out back and spank those liberties right the hell out of you and really, there’s going to be more of this bollocks coming down the line.

Were you high on something when you did this film?

Ugh.

I had a good time being morally outraged at the deviations from the book.

I had a better time being myself with my Joan in the car letting it all out of my system.

Then seeing, once again, it all come back to what is happening right in the moment.

I have a place to stay tonight.

I have groceries in the fridge.

I have a babysitting gig to go to tomorrow.

I have a friend who wants to see me thereafter and we will go to dinner.

That’s all I need to know at the moment.

I don’t have to figure out a career or a career change or suddenly overnight re-make myself into something I don’t even know what that something is.

Granted, I also don’t want to shy away from finding out.

I am still holding out for a job at ye olde Burning Man, despite receiving a form e-mail that I was not being considered for the job and thank you for applying.

Ok.

This was not the position for me, which I had suspected, it just means there is something else.  Should I indeed be made of the stuff to work at the office and for the organization there is something more fun for me to do.

For now the nannying is what is happening.

“You seem to have an aptitude for it,” my room-mate here at Graceland said to me this evening as I was spelling out the financial woes of starting over.  Which, all things considered, as Joan pointed out to me, really are not things to stress about.

I do have an aptitude for the little people.

I am good at it.

And I get to do it tomorrow.

And I got to get some groceries today because of it.

So, figure it out, not so much.

Do what is being put in front of me, ok.

Continue to take action around getting published, there’s that too.

I submitted another query to an agent and I am going to keep putting all that out there as well.  I don’t know what is going to change or how it will change, just that it is and it will.

I will also look into the copy writing.

Why not?

It could be something lucrative and it could be something I’m good at.

I can explore it.

What’s the worst that happens?

I find I don’t like it or it doesn’t work for me.  I always will have the nannying to be a net underneath me.  I will always have something I can go do.  Ultimately, I am happy with the getting to write my blog and getting to sit down every morning and write my pages.

I also get to see more people I love.

I saw a few more faces this evening and it was so nice to get hugs and look at bright eyes and be welcomed home.

Ah, home.

See, that is what it is about.

Just being home.

Home in my skin.

Home at Graceland.

Home in Oakland.

Home in San Francisco.

Home is here.

Not having to figure out where I need to be or what I need to do, just being, is good enough for me.  Not figuring it out is a distinct gift that I must and am allowed to pass along to others.  Getting to share how I stay in the moment tonight as Joan and I crossed over the Bay Bridge helped me to be in the moment.

I repeated, out loud, there is nothing wrong, you are exactly where you are supposed to be and this is not forever.  This too shall pass.

I could hear her breathing slow down over the phone line and I was present to watch the fog gathering in the hills over Daily City, to see the lights glinting off the glass facades of downtown San Francisco, to see the girl in the white Honda Accord in the lane over, rocking out to a song on the radio, oblivious to the rest of the world, to see the newest part of the bridge rising over the Bay, and to be bathed in the sun setting in one of my favorite places in the entire world.

“I am so glad you are home,” she said to me tonight, hugging me for the umpteenth time, “I am, I am, I am.”

I am too, ladybug.

Grateful to get to be of service and to get the fuck out of my own way.

To friends who let me know I am doing alright.

To people, kind, sweet, amazing, generous people who help me along the way.

To love.

To being loved.

To being loveable.

To throwing that love right back out there like a giant boomerang of happiness.

Thank you for letting me come back.

Thank you for hugging me and letting me know I am safe.

I promise I will return the favor.

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