It’s The Weekend


And I don’t care.

Jimmy crack corn.

Ugh.

It was a week.

And I am glad it’s done and now the weekend which just feels like prepping for the week to come, not really a time of respite or relaxation.

I know I have to change that, or at least that attitude.

By the end of my day I was actively limping again and had a few folks inquire if I had hurt myself.

Yes, and it’s a long, boring, stupid story that I don’t want to repeat any longer.

Can any one say pass the peas please?

Icing as I type.

I am not in self-pity mode, but I am in antsy mode.

I have gotten two invites in the last week to go dancing, I haven’t been able to get on my bicycle, and I look at my scooter with a mixture or dread, awe, nervous excitement, and complete fear.

I want to ride again so bad.

But I don’t want to fuck up the ankle.

Add to that the saying good-bye to one of my charges in two weeks, looking for work, feeling exhausted thinking about that, but I do need to start hatching a plan of action, getting ready for Burning Man–I leave two weeks from today–getting asked to speak, a lot, and just normal get about and I could care less that it’s the weekend.

I don’t have much planned.

I want to try riding my bicycle again, maybe this time I will get to the end of the block instead of the end of the driveway.

I sound bitter.

I am just tired.

This too shall pass.

I will see folks tomorrow and checking in over coffee and tea always helps me get my perspective on and it helps get me out of myself and that’s always a great thing.

I don’t have anything new on the work front, so that can be addressed too.

I shall put out the word to the folks in my world and also work on the letter of reference my mom has asked me to write, I will write-up a draft, and she will add to it.

I am a little uncomfortable with this, but I know what to say and it’s not like I am going to be asking her to lie about what I do.

I can then e-mail all the moms in my network and dads too, and friends and just put it really out to the Universe.

I don’t have to get results from it, or I don’t have to get the results I want, I just have to take the action.

Yesterday I couldn’t get much further than responding affirmatively to a family that a friend put me in touch with.

When they didn’t respond to my e-mail, my head went to the dark side, and I thought, Jesus, let’s not go down that road, there is no good in that neighborhood.

So, I figure, a day’s response is no big deal, it’s never on my time, this timing thing, or my schedule, it’s on God’s, now I just have to take another action and another and another.

There is no particular one that will yield results.

I know what I need and I know how to ask for it, that’s the start.

Speaking of which, I have to do my spending plan for the month, especially now, my goal is to be able to pay September rent in the next two weeks.

I can do it.

I want to have it paid before Burning Man.

I just wrote the check for my scooter payment for the month, then there’s the phone, and I already took care of paying my Healthy San Francisco, so rent and phone, groceries, and that’s it.

Rent, in my mind, also includes utilities, since it is a set rate.

I have thought about asking for a break on the utilities since I was gone a week in July and I will be gone for three weeks, but I have not done so yet.

It’s a thought.

It’s all working out.

I will be fine.

I know the drill.

I just want it to be with an ankle that is fully recovered.

I miss my mobility and the time wasted on MUNI.

I have gotten used to getting up at 6:30 a.m. to do my morning routine and get to work, it’s often times, the getting back home that is harder, the trains not running as frequently, but then again, at least I am close to the train and so is my job.

The only day this week that I had to do transferring from train to bus was Thursday.

That’s not too bad.

And I worked extra this week and there’s extra money on my paycheck.

There’s a lot to be grateful for, which is what I will finish my whiny blog post with, some fucking gratitude.

Grateful that I was not the mumbling man who smelt of rotting potato vodka and a dirty ashtray dipped in dog shit on the train home.

Grateful I remembered I did not need to be held hostage by the swaying beer belly and got up and moved.  So it meant standing, at least I can stand.

Grateful that I have great references and faith in myself that I can and will find a great job.

Grateful I still have work, full-time work for the next month and a half, so much can happen in six weeks, it will be a brand new world and I won’t remember any of the ambivalence of being in the middle of the hallway.

Grateful for Saint Germaine de Pres on my music cube.

So grateful that my laptop still works.

Grateful that I get to go to New York for the first time ever in my life next month.

Grateful that rent is paid, I have a comfy bed to sleep in with fresh sheets and big fluffy pillows, that I can pay to ride MUNI home and that I am not sleeping outside in the fog and cold, and boy, it’s cold out here tonight, let me tell you.

Grateful for frozen peas, they feel great.

Grateful for all my friends and fellows who consistently show up for me in friendship and love and who help me whenever I am floundering.

Grateful for service, love, faith, getting to go to Burning Man, all my friends who are going this year, being of service, being of inspiration, writing in the morning, blogging at night, hot tea, nectarines from the Farmers Market, notebooks, good pens, Stumptown Holler Mountain coffee, fog, God, living in San Francisco.

Ah.

There.

See.

Everything is great and yay.

It’s the weekend.

Things change.

Things are going to be wonderful.

They already are.

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