Four Day Weekend!


No plans.


A few plans.

Meeting some ladies, seeing my people, doing the deal.

The regular.


Buying books and readers for school.

But aside from that.

No plans.

I suppose after  great big trip to Paris I really shouldn’t have a care in the world about what to do.

I will sleep in.

I will not worry about work.

I will get my school supplies and do the normal weekend stuff I usually do, cook, clean, go to the market, laundry.

I can’t seem to get into doing anything for New Year’s Eve.

A.  I haven’t been asked to do anything, neither date wise or friend wise.

B. I’m not certain I want to be out on New Year’s.

C. After the shit show last New Year’s was, the beginning of the end of the relationship with an ex, I don’t have any expectations.

I can say that yes, I would love to be kissed on New Year’s Eve at the stroke of midnight.


You know what.

I got that last year.

And it was awful.

And I’ve gotten to have a kiss at midnight once or twice before, but it’s never been much good.

I figure I’ll be hiding under my bed when the midnight hour strikes.

I briefly thought about working.

Not that the family asked me to, the mom and dad went out tonight for a dinner to celebrate, but I know that I could raise a tiny flag of maybe I might be available to nanny/babysit for New Years, and I’d have a gig.

I thought about it.

Some scratch for my school books.


In the end.


I don’t feel maudlin or sad, not having plans, although I did have a big wave of sad roll over me last night and I turned to doing a big review of my day and e-mailing my person about it.

It was basically a fears inventory.

I’m not enough.

I’m unlovable.

I’m going to be alone for always.

Blah, blah, blah.

Same old song.

Different night.

It just hit me harder last night for what ever reason, maybe watching the season finale of Downton Abbey where everyone is paired up and there’s babies being born right and left had something to do with it.


The season.

The time of year.

It’s not a feeling I’m unfamiliar with.

I have had it before and it’s just fear.

And fear is just another thing I get to walk through.

My heart felt tender though, and it was good to do the writing and send it out to someone with greater perspective then I.

I was also reminded that it’s the long, cold, dark days of winter.


Holy mother of God.

It has been cold.

My bicycle riding has not been enjoyable.

Although it has been fast.

I have expended extra energy getting from here to there and back again just to keep fucking warm.

My fingers and especially my thumbs, have been just useless by the end of my ride.


I’ll be giving the bicycle a break for the weekend.

Hopping on the scooter tomorrow.

Not that it will be much warmer, in fact, it will be colder with the wind chill, but I’ll get where I need to go faster and I will bundle the fuck up.

My first stop will be Copy Central sometime before 3 p.m. tomorrow.

Got to get there and get my stuff.

I have to order books too, but I haven’t gone much further in my syllabi to see what I need or how much it’s going to cost.

Last time I think I dropped $350 on the readers and another $150 or so on books.

But I can’t remember and I am not going to worry about it.

I will just show up.

Buy the readers and get on with my day.

I’ll be getting some more of that famous perspective afterward at Church and Market, meeting up with my person and doing some reading and hearing what he has to say.

He always has good things to say.


We commiserated on jet lag today, which I had again, I really am surprised by it, today, but not as bad as yesterday and nothing like Monday.

I keep waking up too early and having a hard time going back to sleep, which is part of it for sure.

I think it’s going to pass though, and it certainly will by the end of the weekend.

And he commiserated with me about the sad and alone.

Which is fear and false and passing.

Grateful to know that it always does pass.

If I can hold it lightly and let it go.

I have been working on lots of surrendering.

It seems to be the thematic for me this last month or so.

Constantly giving up ideas, people, places, things.

Constantly seeing how I am not well adjusted when I feel like I am out of control of my environment.

Which is all the time.

You’d think I’d be used to it by this point.

Constantly surrendering the idea of requited love.

And constantly accepting the love that is right in front of me.

Tonight I was envisioning it all in white fur.

Being held in warm, soft, white fur.

I was cold, and I don’t usually meditate when I am that cold, but I also forgot my scarf and was in a hurry to get to be where I needed to be.
I worked a half hour later tonight then I normally do so the parents could get to have their own little New Years celebration dinner out, and I had to bust ass on my bike to get to where I needed to go.

Which at least kept me warm.

But once I was settled I realized how cold I was.


Meditating became thinking of all the warmest, softest things.

Being held.

Being surrounded by warmth.

Being taken care of.

Being loved.

I can find it all there when I look for it.

Sometimes worldly clamor blocks it out.

But it is there.

Just on the other side of soft surrender.

An aquiescence.

A total letting go.

And sure.

It may be.

For just a moment.


But it is sweet.

And I am held better than I can hold myself.

At least.

That’s what I believe.


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