What’s Going On?


He asked.

He took my hand.

Of course.

I had worn black eye liner today.

“I LOVE your eyeliner!” The Guatemalan lady at the check out register said to me today.

She is always so very sweet to me.

I am in the market a lot.

A gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a lot of black beans.

I made a double batch of chili today–one for the family and one for another family, origins unknown, who are friends of the families and just welcomed a new baby into their fold.

My family, the one I work for, is slated to bring food for them tomorrow.

I made an extra batch of chili, vegetarian, and a batch of corn muffins.

Then did the same for my family, or did them concurrent, I can do that, except I made my employers meal with meat.

I wanted to ask for a bonus.

Double the work, double the pay.

But I was more than happy to accept that today I was of service to my family and I enjoy cooking, and I make a mean pot of chili and corn bread muffins, despite me not eating them, do smell lovely baking in the oven, and I did have a big bowl of chili with the boys at dinner.

It is nice to work for a family where a lot of my meals are taken care of.

Because, although I am making an hourly that is higher than any that I have made as a nanny before, it is all above-board, all taxed, every penny accounted for.

And I work a lot.

“I’m tired,”  I said to him, as he squeezed my hand.

I”m always tired.

“You need to sleep more, take naps, lay in bed,” he said to me.

He wouldn’t let my hand go and my eyes got leaky.

Of course I’m wearing eyeliner.

I did think of it too this morning when I was applying it.

But a lady can’t do her make up contingent on whether or not she believes she will be in an emotional state later in the evening.

It looked hella good.

I wanted to wear a cat’s eye and purple eye shadow and so I did.

I smudged it up a bit with tears, but so it goes.

I’ll just call it my “smoky” eye and continue forward, face into the wind, stars over my head as the Southern Constellations move across the horizon and now Orion is in front of me when I ride through the park at night instead of just over my left shoulder.

“What I am hearing” he said, after I had checked in a moment or two, and sipped some of my tea, “is spiritual malaise.”

Uh yeah.

I get up I pray.

I eat breakfast.

I write.

I work.

I do the deal.

I come home.

I write.

I pray.

I crawl into bed and fall asleep, mostly, without too much chatter in my head.

But the chatter is still there.

And what it sounds like is.

This.

Is this it?

Is this how it’s going to be until I go to school?

(Ah, yes, the disease of wanting more.  I so have it.)

I feel like I am marking time.

Not a feeling I care for.

Too much on the self-pity side of town.

“You need to connect with the women in your life,” he said.

I do.

But you know.

My favorite ladies are all as busy as me, if not more so.

And none of us live next to each other anymore.

My best friend lives in Wisconsin.

My best girl friend here lives in Castro Valley, my next best lady is in North Berkeley about to pop out a baby, so I won’t be seeing her for a while.

I have been having a challenging time socializing within the fellowship.

I feel like I am hearing a lot of the same same same and not enough solution and suddenly, I am sitting in the corner acting like a fucking bleeding deacon.

I’ve got ten years people, I don’t have that much time.

Yet.

I feel untethered.

There, that is better.

Not that I am marking time, just that I am a little adrift and I need to connect with people.

I feel that this has been a bit re-occurring, but also, I know that it has to do with changes in my social life in general, changes in where I go for my daily solution, getting fit into the proper get right with God mode.

I have friends that are no longer in my social sphere and that is ok.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

In that spirit, in the spirit of tired and I know it, but wiling to change, God damn, it is always the change, there is no resting on my laurels.

I have haunches to sit on, but no laurels to rest on.

I told myself I would RSVP yes to a  party in May to hang out with some acquaintances that could easily become good girl friends given the time cultivating them.

As well as giving some consideration to going to the Steampunk Masquerade Ball at Nimby on April 18th.

I have no idea if I’m really going to go to the party in the East Bay–no wheels to get me there, do I want to be on BART in masquerade, but I wanted to say yes to getting out there, I mean it looks fantastic.

I also need to connect with a good lady friend of mine in the Mission who has suggested I do some celebrating of getting into graduate school and I would love to catch up with her and sip a tea and a have a lady catch up.

Especially to discuss all things Burning Man.

I’m always up for discourse on that.

I’m not marking time and the world is not here to entertain me, boredom is the sign of a shallow mind, a selfish, soul sucking shroud of ego, being bored, asking you to entertain me, is just not where it’s at.

It just means getting out of my comfort zone a little bit and reaching out to make new friends.

By the end of our tea time I was feeling much better, smudged eye make up and all.

He hugged me tight and we walked over to Our Lady of Safeway and after an hour of that, I felt better still.

The stars wheeled bright above my head as I cut through the cold air on my bicycle, the smell of pine needles in the park, the tart undertow of a wild tangerine blooming in the air, the wind biting, but I was covered in my windbreaker and hoodie and gloves, so it felt refreshing and invigorating as I let my body warm up and become one with my vehicle.

I came home a drift on the smell of a bonfire on the beach, renewed and refreshed and ready to wind down.

“Hello house,” I said and smiled.

I am right where I need to be.

Secure in my heart that change is happening.

And.

That this too shall pass.

It always does.

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