Cold, Grey, Foggy


But not lonely.

Alone.

But alright with it.

Not whistling in the dark.

Whistling through the dark.

The buffalo paddock was glowing with mist as I rode my bicycle through the depths of Golden Gate Park on my ride home this evening, the bounced back light from the underbelly of the low-lying clouds and the thick fog swirling in from the ocean, made the meadow look as though it was laced with snow.

And it felt cold enough on my ride home for me, for just a moment, to actually think that the field was full of snow.

I did a bit of a double take and then chuckled at my misperception.

I should always chuckle at my poor perspective, my inability to ever see anything quite clearly.

It does seem like so much is shrouded in fog and mist.

I can be magical though.

The ride home, especially the stretch from the waterfall through to the buffalo paddock always does it to me, especially when there is little or nor traffic on the road and the glimmer of the lamp posts marching stolid through the dark makes me feel like I am on the cusp of the wilds, that I am in that in between land.

Could be fantasy.

Could be reality.

Sometimes I call it Narnia.

I am reminded of the Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, the lamp-post in the woods, the snow flurries around the halo of light, I feel like that when I ride through the mists and fog and head home to my small spot by the sea.

“You’re all the way out there,” my friend said to me as we caught up hanging out on the side-walk across from the SafeWay in the Church and Market neighborhood.

Three more blocks and I would be at the sea.

There’s a special kind of absence of light when I turn off Chain of Lakes and make my final descent down Lincoln Avenue to 46th, cornering like I’m still riding my bicycle in fixed gear, there is a blackness, a lack of light, that even should I not know the sea was there, is indicative of the ocean being there.

The edge of the world.

I could just drop right off the edge.

Not that I plan on anytime soon.

I could become morose, I could wish for more than what I have, but that is just a misty shroud of self-pity that doesn’t serve me or my fellows.

It’s really just selfishness masquerading around in fancy pants clothes.

I love my warm little space.

It is exactly as it should be.

Pretty and quaint.

My life is exactly as it should be as well.

And I have a three-day weekend.

That is nice.

I did have a moment when I was in the middle of the day, a stretch that is not always relaxing, but heralds that it is closer to the end of the day then the beginning, and I thought, I am just not going to make it all the way to the weekend.

And what do you know.

I did.

And it’s here.

And yup.

No plans.

Get excited.

I remind myself.

Things are going to happen.

Stuff is happening things are brewing.

There is not a single reason in the world to be troubled.

Just because I can’t see through the fog doesn’t mean that something fabulous.

Amazing.

Astounding.

Miraculous.

Out of the ordinary.

May happen.

I have a confession to make, now that I am through a good chunk of the blog and have lost a number of readers, I mean, how long can you wax poetic about fog and mist before someone decides to go watch some down loaded porn?

FYI.

I write about working for love and being a nanny and I get like zip reads.

I write anything about sex.

I get reads.

I know what you all want.

I know my audience.

But do I know myself?

Here’s one.

I need to stop looking at my ex-boyfriends FaceBook page.

I’m about to unfriend the man again.

It’s just about to start taking too much time of mine.

It’s just about to start.

Ha!

I make myself fucking laugh.

It is taking up too much of my attention.

He posted something and I found myself reacting and I was like, no, no, no.

It’s not my business where he is or what he’s doing or who he’s hanging out with, but, dude, we’re supposed to be doing that together–fucking jealousy.

Didn’t I already work through this?

And then I knew I have not, not completely,  there’s always a little more work I get to do.

I have to stay away.

When I go down that road it isn’t shrouded in mist.

It’s a bright fucking light that says, you’re not good enough, he didn’t want you, nobody wants you, might as well go cry in my tea.

And then I focus on all the things that are lacking in my life.

Which is nothing.

Once I get disgusted with myself and tear my eyes away from the stream of posts, that are.

NONE OF MY BUSINESS TO BE READING.

Ugh.

So.

Maybe I’ll try that this weekend.

I won’t check his Facebook feed for the rest of the weekend.

That will probably help me see what is actually happening in front of me.

Maybe I’ll actually be available to the man I’m supposed to be with instead of focusing on the one who didn’t want me.

Good rule of thumb.

Focus on what’s in front of me, rather than focusing on what I do not have.

That whole compare and despair thing.

Because I am enough.

There’s not a thing wrong with me and my ex and I aren’t together because we’re not suppose to be.

That’s all.

It’s not some big mystery.

It’s just life.

It’s just an experience.

And the nice thing about coming in from the fog and the chill, with my fingers stiff from riding in the misty weather, I can always warm up, change my perspective, get cozy, and be happy that I’m not having a mystical experience.

I’m just having an experience.

It’s called living.

And it’s pretty damn good.

Especially when I mind my own business.

It’s good then.

REALLY.

REALLY.

REALLY.

Good.

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: