Archive for May, 2016

What A Day

May 21, 2016

What a day.

A fucking awesome, amazing, meandering, sweet, full, very caffeinated day.

Yeah.

That’s sort of my go to when I’m on vacation.

Coffee.

And  a lot of it.

I may regret that come bed time, especially as a friend pointed out to me via text, “and you’re still on West Coast time.”

Fuck me.

I totally am.

But I was up super early this morning.

I mean.

Really early.

I had not planned that, it was just what happened, I got up to go to the bathroom, tiny bladder yo, and the animals were on me like the second coming of Christ.

“Feed me!” They were scampering about as I made my way to the loo.

I pet them both and went back to bed, actually shutting the door this time, last night I left it open and both the dog and the cat slept with me!

“You must be one of those people that give off that vibe,” my host said this morning as he served me my first cup of coffee today, “they always sleep with me.”

He’s got a lovely little Cuisinart espresso maker and he pulled me a fine shot and then topped it with some hot, steamed, unsweetened vanilla almond milk.

OH my goodness.

So delicious.

So.

Yeah.

Um.

Ha.

I had another.

Yeah.

I know.

Addict.

But better a hit off the caffeine then a hit off a pipe.

I got back into bed intending to sleep, but as I lay there thinking about all the things I just decided to get up and get the day started.

And I am so glad I did.

It was such a lovely meander of a day.

I decided to walk to the Brooklyn Museum.

Google mapped me out for a 38 minute walk, 1.76 miles from the place I’m staying at in Clinton Park, Brooklyn.

It took me nearly three hours to get there.

Bahahahaha.

I made a few stops on the way.

Ahem.

Ha.

I went to a wig shop.

I hella love wig shops.

I’m not in need of any hair, in case you are wondering, but I always can find a great fabric flower clip for my hair and I had recently broke one, and there it was in the store on Dekalb and I had to pop in.

Yeah.

My first stop in Brooklyn was not a museum, but the wig shop, I don’t even want to know what that means.

I will say, however, that all along the way, all day long, I was constantly being complimented for my look, my style, my hair.

From middle schoolers in the bathroom at the Brooklyn museum–three eighth grade girls on field trip hiding in the bathroom braiding each others hair–“you got great hair,” one girl said.

I thank them, smiled, played it forward, complimented their braids and walked out, as they were chatting to themselves–“she got style,” one girl said.  “It’s her hair,” another girl said.  The other girl replied, “it’s her dress,” the third chimed in, “no, it’s all of it, she got style,” she finished, “that’s right.”

Hella flattered.

Flattered to be stopped on the streets, literally, by gay men and black women and construction guys, and not creepy construction guys, and the security guard at the Brooklyn museum, Jules, oh my god, such a Brooklyn accent and the conversation about tattoos we had and the Marilyn Monroe bag I was carrying and whoa.

I mean from the minute I ambled down the ramp of the warehouse loft where I’m staying to the minute I got back, I was pretty much complimented on my look, hair, smile, tattoos.

Seriously, if I need a boyfriend bad like, I could consider moving here.

Nah.

I like where I’m at.

I also like not having a cold ass winter.

I don’t know that I could tough out a New York winter.

But today was lovely, 75, sunny, got lots of warmth on my skin.

Weather tomorrow calls for rain, but that’s ok, I felt like I got my summer moment in, in my polka dot dress with my crinoline on and daisies in my hair.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I just can’t stop staring, you, you’re outfit, the marguerite in your hair and they match the ones by your bunny tattoo!” This sweet young gay man at the table next to me at dinner tonight.

It turns out he’s from Denmark, and the queens name is Marguerite and they all love the Marguerite daisy, which is my favorite flower, and next thing you know we are having this great conversation and I meet his husband and their dog Dolly.

Is it me?

Or is New York just friendlier than San Francisco?

Or is it having grown up in the Midwest, where you smile and talk to people and wave?

Maybe all of it.

I did really talk to a lot of people today, 95% of them I did not know, baristas, yeah, like I said I drank some coffee–Gorilla Coffee was amaze, and I bought some coffee there and the girl gave me a very coveted sticker after we chatted a bunch, and a great recommendation for breakfast where I had the most amazing porridge I have ever had, although for the small amount in the bowl and the huge price tag, $11, it needed to be extraordinary–so maybe my tongue was just unhinged.

But.

You know.

I think I am just someone that people feel they can approach.

I was asked for directions early this afternoon.

And I was actually able to tell the young woman where to go, I had just passed the place two blocks prior.

I’m not a local.

But I’m not a tourist either.

Just another woman of the world.

Out and about.

So grateful for this trip.

And!

That I got to see my good friend and his girlfriend, we met up and did the deal in Williamsburg.

I’ll be seeing him again for round two of said deal tomorrow by Union Square tomorrow and then off to the book store.

“Have you done any pleasure reading yet?” He asked after I down loaded about graduate school.

So a date for the Strand and then he’ll go his way and I’ll go mine, the MOMA, the Guggenheim, the Whitney, depending on where I am at and how I feel.

And of course.

Yes.

More coffee.

I mean.

I am on vacation.

Seriously.

Oh yeah, and lest I forget.

I got a tattoo.

Heh.

It really was quite a day.

Lucky.

Lucky.

Lucky.

Yes.

Damn straight.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Just Me, Myself, And I

May 20, 2016

Although.

Baby.

Wish you were here.

We might have some stupid fun.

My place in New York is so freaking sweet.

Seriously.

I told my host if he ever thought about leaving he’d better let me know.

It is cavernous and gorgeous and art, oh all the art he has.

Oh.

Look.

My art date, artist date with myself, is already happening.

The space is a big old warehouse in Clinton Park.

Super high ceilings, big windows, I can tell there’s going to be some ridiculous light in here come morning.

He’s a photographer and traveler and bicycle guy.

My kind of fellow.

There’s an awesome dog that has already become my new best friend, a three legged cat, yes, that’s right, he’s got a tripod cat, and an organic market around the corner.

Plus.

The promise of the best coffee in New York come morning.

I am not exactly at home, but I feel right at home.

And I am super stoked for my new adventure.

This new, New York experience for me.

I caught an Uber from JFK.

Although, dude, you were hella sweet, but you got to lay off the cologne, whoa man, and I got the very broad, huge hint that I should definitely be going clubbing this weekend, preferably Saturday, hint, hint, nudge, nudge.

Yeah.

It was a lot cheaper than I thought and I will probably do the same back to the airport come Monday morning since my flight out is at 7:30 a.m.

The travel here was good.

I woke up retarded early though.

An hour before I needed to.

And I had the hardest time falling asleep.

I was a bit anxious.

Travel sometimes does that to me, I can get worked up with the organizing of the stuff and things and forget that I am going to have fun.

I am definitely having fun.

I have already had a really awesome conversation with a new friend in Brooklyn and gotten some great tips for my time here and I’m stoked that I get to stay in this big, open, well lit, art filled space with animals and coffee and photographs and old fixed gear bikes.

“My dad, that’s his fixie, he’s 86, and he still rides,” my host explained pointing out the various bikes he has.

We talked some shop, some travel, some New York, lots of art talk, just exactly what I need.

Super happy.

Well taken care of and excited for the rest of the adventure.

Plus!

I ran into a girl friend at SFO.

We were on the same flight, one aisle apart and caught up on all things school and travel and it was super sweet to get to reconnect with someone I hadn’t had a chance to catch up with probably years.

The flight was great.

I feel all jacked up and excited to be here.

Which really is the only problem, the only fly in the ointment, I’m on West Coast time and I want to get up early and get out there and have my New York experience.

I’m super proud of myself.

I know how that sounds.

But I am.

It means a lot to me that I am doing this.

Shall I let you in on a secret?

It wasn’t my idea.

It was my travel partner to Paris who came up with the idea.

“We should do New York, do the museums there too,” he told me, my heart already so broken down and sad.

Sometimes God gives you exactly what you ask for.

“Hey God,” I remember saying one day, probably the last week that I was in Paris before I moved back, “the next time I am here I want it to be with someone I am in love with.”

Haha.

Fuck you God.

Maybe I should have said, someone who can reciprocate love back to me.

Do you have any idea how hard it was to be in Paris with a man that you’re in love with and not kiss in every side street possible, to sleep in the same bed and not touch?

Heart breaking.

Hello Tinder.

Hello fuck the pain away.

Hello do another inventory.

Hello there, pulling into the parking lot at the 7-11 at the corner last Wednesday.

Yeah.

Didn’t see that one coming did you?

I don’t always write about things that happen in my life, you’d be surprised, I am transparent as all fuck on this blog, but not always.

No.

Not always do I put it all out there.

Sometimes things never come out, sometimes it things just get pushed aside because other things are happening.

I was still feeling the after affects, the glow, the good feelings of a date I had recently had with someone I’m rather working a little crush on.

Wouldn’t you like to know.

Suffice to say I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I like a guy.

That’s all.

And then.

This other guy, my inventory guy, my leave him alone amends guy, my no more friends on facecrack guy, my he stopped subscribing to my blog guy and we don’t do the deal in the same places guy, in the parking lot.

Just there.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him.

He’s been popping up in the rear view mirror here and there recently.

Which doesn’t surprise me, we live blocks away from each other, I’m surprised more that we hadn’t run into each other sooner.

The first time was a few weeks ago and I was scootering to the Inner Sunset to do the deal with my person and go over said inventory and I was wearing a dress, ha!  I packed that same dress for tomorrow’s date with me, myself, and I in Brooklyn, and I was also dressed up for a first date, with the aforementioned I might be working a crush guy, and I was light.

So light.

My skirt fluttering out behind me, the sun warm, the air kissing my face and I was lane splitting and then I noticed, white SUV with the alma mater sticker and hey that’s the same as, oh, shit, that’s him.

I lane split.

He turned his wheel.

I blew by.

And that’s what it was like.

No animosity or upset.

I had moved on.

I felt so light and free and removed from it all.

All the drama and story and emotional upheaval.

Gone.

I raised my hand, waived, and scootered on my way.

So when I crossed in front of his car pulling into the 7-11 parking lot and there was nothing there to dramatize, it was just a hey how are you.

“Your hair looks great,” he said.

“Thanks,” I think I said, but really, I don’t think I acknowledged the compliment.

Rather I kept going.

“I won’t keep you, good night,” I said and walked away.

No drama.

No story.

Nothing.

Freedom.

Gratitude.

Thanks God.

I’m free.

Free to be me in New York.

Free to say, to acknowledge, this wasn’t my idea, but damn I am so glad I ran with it.

Free to be happy.

Free to pursue and be pursued.

Free to go get my art the fuck on.

I’m in New York.

Fuck yeah baby.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

Almost There

May 19, 2016

In fact.

24 hours from right now I’ll be landing at JFK.

Eek.

I am so excited.

I am also a little nervous.

I’m on my own.

But.

I know how to take care of myself and what I want to do and I know that I am a big girl and can handle my own self.

It’s my second time to New York and really my first time there completely on my own.

Yeah.

I’ll be seeing a friend or two, I do have plans to see a friend in Williamsburg, but nothing air tight, everything is loose and flexible.

I ran into a friend tonight who used to live in New York and just recently relocated here, and he was like, “text me, you have an SOS or need anything, I totally know people.”

Plus he confirmed that I should definitely be going to St. Marks in the East Village.

I was randomly on facecrack and saw a friend who I had forgotten was in New York, of course I did, the only time I see him is at Burning Man, and I reached out and said, hey I’m going to be coming and where should I go to do the deal in New York?

St. Marks.

10 a.m. Saturday and Sunday.

Although I was tipped off to go hella early on Sunday to get a spot, I guess it’s a popular one and all that.

I figure I will do both the Saturday and Sunday, that will get me into the city early and set me up nicely to head off to my adventures.

“Go to the Frick too,” my friend told me when I listed off my Guggenheim, MOMA, Whitney ideals.  “You can totally do the Frick and the Guggenheim at the same time, they’re really close to each other.”

Sweet.

I’m glad to know it.

I also do think I am going to shoot the moon and try for a tattoo at Three Kings.

My idea solidified and now it won’t get out of my head, so, yeah, if I make it over there on Friday I’ll set up a consultation and go back on Sunday after I do St. Marks and the Whitney and the High Line.

Oh my God.

All the things.

So much to do.

I am so excited.

I could pee my pants.

But.

I won’t.

I do have to pack yet.

But I always pack day off.

I have traveled enough to know what to pack and what I need to bring.

My travel toiletries are all set and my suitcase is out on my chaise, along with an umbrella, it may rain when I’m there, but that’s fine, if it’s going to rain, I’ll be tucked up in a museum getting my art high on.

The only little fly in the ointment.

I can’t get my boarding pass to print off.

I’m not sure why, but my printer doesn’t seem to be connecting.

I checked into my flight though and I’ll just get my boarding pass printed when I go to SFO tomorrow.

I have set my alarm.

I will get up and do my morning routine and have a nice hot shower and eat a good breakfast and I will do my writing, how apropos that the last of my Paris journals is being filled up as I prepare to launch out into my next traveling adventure.

I’ll be re-upping my notebooks while I’m there.

There is nothing like have a journal with stickers and notes and ticket stubs from where ever I am traveling.  I love taking photo mat photos and sticking them in the notebook and subway tickets, train tickets, boarding passes.

I won’t actually bring my Palais de Tokyo notebook with me.

I will write one more entry for tomorrow before I fly out and buy a new notebook when I’m in Brooklyn on Friday, that way I have a fresh set of pages all ready to be filled with my adventures.

I also just pulled out my glue stick, got to have that too, in the bag of pens, to help stick stuff in that isn’t a sticker.

Heh.

Oh!

And before I forget, because I almost did!

I got a travel phone charger!

So happy I did that.

It’s charging in the socket as I blog.

It will hold two phone charges.

And it’s not super big.

My two friends who I traveled with, one in New York and one in Paris, both had the super big heavy ones that would hold like five charges.

I went with a smaller, lighter one.

I carry enough shit in my bag already.

I figure one big full charge on my phone and two back ups in my bag and I will be set for all my adventures and photos and oh, goodness, this is really fucking happening.

And what am I going to wear?

Hahahaha.

Same thing I already wear all the time, plus, maybe one fun dress to walk around in.

I tossed my Converse in the wash last night so they be clean and though not new looking not as shabby as they were.

I’m going to be walking.

If I was there being all pretty and had more time I might bring some sandals and I still might, I do have a cute ass pair that I wore yesterday, one of those few days in San Francisco that it was warm enough all day to wear sandals, at least in my opinion, but I’m going to be doing a lot of walking.

And since I’m there on my own, with my own agenda and schedule, Converse are just fine.

I don’t know why it feels like such a big deal.

Hmm.

Cuz maybe it is.

But.

I have traveled on my own to Paris numerous times, twice on my own, and yet, New York intimidates me a tiny bit, not a lot, I think I’m going to be just fine, I navigated the Metro in Paris and the subway, well, last time I checked, it was in English, it’s just something new and new can be scary.

Even if it’s new good.

New fun.

New amazing.

New York.

I’m coming for you.

See you soon.

EEP!

One More Day!

May 18, 2016

One more day of work.

Then.

Off to New York.

I have made some decisions regarding my trip.

One.

I am not taking the subway to the Air BnB when I get into JFK at 10:30 p.m. at night.

I don’t feel like showing up to the place after midnight.

I’m going to get a car.

I am going to let myself not worry about navigating the trains, I’m going to let myself have a little experience, see the city from a car at night.

I think the view alone from a car will be worth the splurge.

I am also going with a good amount, obscene it feels like, of money.

I have saved all semester and I have a comfortable little cushion to let myself spend and the luxury of not being anxious about making the right train and transferring to the right line is well worth the cost of a car.

In fact, I’m also going to take a car to the airport when I return as well.

My flight back is way early, 7:30 a.m.

Which is awesome since with the time change it puts me at getting back to SFO around 9:30a.m. and I took the whole day off from work.

I’ll probably train it back to the house from SFO.

I’m hella comfortable with that commute.

But in New York, I’m going to let myself have the experience of not being anxious about train times and getting here to there.

I will take the subway while I’m there, I won’t be on a time frame, it’s loose and flexible.

I want to go to the MOMA, the Guggenheim, the Whitney, but if something comes up and I miss one of those because I am having some other grand adventure, than cool.

I’m going to be flexible.

I um, heh, want some souvenirs, because that’s how I roll.

And I did actually come up with a tattoo piece that I may go have checked out at Three Kings in Green Point.

If I can get it for a good price I will.

If it seems like it would take up too much time and energy then I won’t.

I do want a pair of earrings, or three, a bunch of notebooks, bunch of stickers, postcards from the museums I make it to and what ever the hell floats my boat.

I would love a sweatshirt and I always love getting a hat from the city I visit.

I don’t actually have the one I got there two years ago, I am not sure where it got off to, but I don’t have it.  I do have the one I got in Paris in 2007 and I love wearing it, I am always reminded of the street where I got it, the time of day, and how I just fell in love with it.

I’d like a good New York cabbie hat or fedora.

God damn.

I am excited.

Coffee galore, walking, oysters at a restaurant somewhere, photographs, graffiti, I want to make sure I bring my camera and rechargeable batteries.

I am also thinking about getting one of those brick recharger deals.

I drain a lot of juice on my Iphone when I take photos or when I use it to navigate anywhere.  And if for some reason I’m out and about in a part of town and don’t feel like subway back to Clinton Park, I’ll get a car and that means having my phone powered up.

I will be out on the town.

I will not be hanging at the Air BnB.

That is simply to have a place to sleep and do my blog at night.

I plan on being up and out and going the majority of the time and it would be handy to have an extra bit of juice for the phone.

I met with a lady this evening after work and told her about what I was doing and why and her whole face lit up.

“That’s like bucket list stuff for me,” she said her face glowing.

Girl, if I can do it, so can you.

So grateful that doing nice things for myself helps the women I work with give them the allowance to do the same things too.

Travel was such a dream for me when I was younger and I am so grateful that I am allowing myself more and more to embrace it.

I was writing this morning about where I want to go and things I want to do.

Take the Empire Builder Train Line.

Go to Paia, Maui–see the place where my grandmother was born.

Go to Burning Man in 2017 since I can’t go this year.

Go to Hudson, Wisconsin and see my best friend and her family.

Those are the tops on the list, but there are so many others.

I would love to go back to Alaska and really see it during the summer.

I still want to see Venice and go back to Rome for more than a weekend with more than the 50 Euro I went with.

I am still in awe how that happened.

Rome for 50 Euro.

Cape Town, South Africa.

Toulouse, France–I owe it an amends to be seen truly instead of the drunken, hung over stupor I did it the first time.

So many places.

And you know.

I’m going to go to all of them and more.

Because I am alive, I love myself and I am fucking awesome.

Yeah, yeah, I know.

But for a woman who came from where I did to be where I am at it is only by grace that I am here and I feel like I owe my God the happiness and joy I find in traveling.

It fills me up, it lights me up.

New places, new experiences.

New faces.

New art.

God.

I can’t wait to just cram my face full of art.

I’ll have something to compare the new MOMA to when I get back.

I haven’t been to it yet, not having really had time to what with school and work.

But I will when I get back.

Especially since I won’t have to be doing homework every weekend.

Hell.

I’ll also do some little trips around here.

Why the hell not?

Get on a train and see where I can take it.

Scooter down the coast.

Or up it.

I’m not sure about taking my scooter over the bridges, but I could see going around the coast  a little.

Oh summer vacation.

I am so happy to meet your acquaintance.

Feels funny to say that at the ripe old age of 43, but there it is.

One more day of work and then some play time for me.

I have so earned it.

Seriously.

Oops

May 17, 2016

Ha.

I just re-sent my paper for Psychodynamics.

Turns out that the e-mail I sent my professor did not have my paper attached.

This lady can write a scintillating amazing theoretical paper and forget to attach it apparently.

Jesus on a pogo stick.

I actually don’t think this was my issue, it’s the system, no I’m not passing the buck, I’ve had this issue before when I have directly responded to this self same professor through the school’s platform–Canvas.

So.

I just sent it off again through Canvas in case it was user error and also through my own g-mail account, just in case.

I had a horrid moment, but it passed quickly, when I thought, please let me have saved that paper, which of course I had, and then realized I know how to retrieve something from the trash had I accidentally trashed it.

Which was not the case.

So.

Now I’m officially done.

Just slightly anti-climatic.

Ha.

I am just a little tired, having not really had a weekend to decompress, just doing all the papers and finals and such, and now back to work today.

But that being said I realized a whole bunch of stuff.

Number one.

I’m going to New York in three days!

Fuck I’m so excited and I have resolved that this is the the grand way to incentivize myself to get through each semester–plan a trip somewhere two weeks following the last weekend of classes.

This gives me a carrot and also forces me to complete the work before leaving for the trip.

It’s perfect and I am just over the moon that I am letting myself take the time to do this and go.

Last time I was in New York I was still coming off that horrible ankle injury I had.

I really couldn’t walk as much or nearly as fast as I wanted.

It was bad.

It blew up a few times.

I remember my friend taking a look at it and demanding I sit down.

Yeah.

Like that.

Now.

Well.

I’m in some fine health.

Feeling sore, but that’s just from having done yoga today, three days in a row people, yes.

Tomorrow I’m probably going to take the day off, sleep in.

I can actually sleep in.

I don’t have to get up early and read for school or work on a paper, I can just get up and do my writing in the morning and then, off to work.

Second big thing that I realized.

It’s Memorial Day the 30th!

I will have a three day weekend right after my four day weekend.

I’m basically getting two Mondays off in a row.

Hallelujah!

I’m quite excited for that.

And third.

The boys are in school until June 3rd.

So the rest of the month I will be working my “normal” 35 hour week.

I’ll have mornings off for the rest of the month.

Come summer vacation for the boys I will be switching up my hours for the family–10a.m.-6p.m.

Although the mom wants to keep one day a week with me starting late so she and the dad can have a date night dinner night out with out the boys.

We haven’t figured out what night that is yet.

But it makes sense that’s it’s probably going to be Friday.

I ain’t gonna fuss my head with the logistics right now.

Suffice to say I have some spare time this month that I was not expecting since I’m done with my school for the year and the boys are still in theirs and there’s a holiday in the month.

I am very happy and very grateful for that.

I feel like I have earned some down time.

I’ll get my fill of doing yoga and sleeping and oh!

PLEASURE READING!

Oh.

How I have missed reading whatever the fuck I want to read.

I have a friend who just sent me some work to read over and I was like, ugh, I don’t have time, then, wait, ha!  Yes I do, I can totally read this whenever the hell I want.

Plus, I’ll have it on the plane with me to New York, it’s a bit of a long piece.

I’m always super flattered when he wants me to read his work, he’s a great writer and I find no little satisfaction in being asked to read what he’s working on before he sends it out.

I suspect he’ll get a publishing contract for a book long before I do.

I’ll get mine too, but I’m not worried about it.

Not right now.

Although, it would behoove me to write somethings that are not scholarly pieces over the summer, some poetry, some short stories, or even go back over some of my work that I haven’t gotten published yet.

I want to actually put together a chap book of poems including the pieces that I did last fall for my patron I met at Burning Man.

He gave me permission to submit it out into the world and I have not since I have been so busy with school, I have not submitted a thing all this past year so focused on school have I been.

It’s beginning to sink in.

This not being in school for the summer.

It feels really nice.

The break will go by fast, I am sure, but I am going to suck every last drop of juice out of it.

I’m going to have a full, busy, playful, raucous summer.

I’m going to see friends.

Go dancing.

Hit up museums.

Write poetry.

Dye my hair pink again.

Just because I can’t go to Burning Man doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have a hair party.

I’m going to date and get laid and make the fuck out like a school girl on summer break.

Because I am one!

There’s got to be a drive in movie for me somewhere to go to!

I’m going to walk on the beach, hike, play in the sand.

I’ll have a bonfire.

I’m going to go to shows.

I’m going to hang out in coffee shops.

I’m just going to have fun.

And be light and let whatever happens happen.

I will meet my life with joy.

Happiness.

Freedom.

All the things.

Yes.

Darling.

All the things.

 

School’s Out For Summer!

May 16, 2016

I’m done!

I’m done!

I’m done!

Take that Psychodynamic Lacanian theoretical paper, I see you, raise you a parental confrontation, a castration complex, and further, you can’t squash my jouissance.

Ha!

I slay you paper dragon.

“That was fast!” my friend in cohort text me back after I gleefully texted her to let her know I had finished my Psychodynamic’s paper.

It was.

And still I am surprised at how fast I can write.

It doesn’t always mean it’s good, I’ve some modicum of humility, not much, but some, but it does mean that I am capable of doing the work in an efficient manner.

And.

Not to put too fine a point on it.

I had done the reading.

I had taken good notes in class.

I participated in class.

So when I needed to review the material and I did not know what I was going to write on, I did not in fact, write on the topic that I was going to, I google searched it and there were too many theoretical papers already out there.

So.

I used an experience from my youth and wrote about that.

I actually thanked God after the paper was finished for being able to use the traumatic event to write a positive piece.

I am amazed.

Constantly.

By how the wreckage and dreck of my past can be put to use.

“Carmen,” a famous writer once told me, “most writers would kill to have the material you work with.”

Meaning that I have lived a lot of life and have had a lot of experiences.

Some of them dramatic, traumatic and packed with pain.

Pain that I have been able to turn to something else.

If not gold, a kind of beautiful word garden that I can pick and choose what I will present in this bouquet of meaning and language.

I love poetry and words and sonnets and prose and sex and eros and flowers and life and apples and culture and French and travel and all these things add up to something, more than who I am and all of them inform me and build me and shape me.

I am so many things.

I am over the moon to be finished with my first year of graduate school.

I am officially a second year student now.

I am proud of the effort I put in and aware that I did not do any of it on my own.

It was with joy and humor that I spoke with one of my friends today from my cohort.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, so and so and I messaged and text and I know people are skyping, I’m totally fine with going over the take home with you.”

We did it together.

I had already turned in my final but I was more than willing to help my friend.

And when I think about all the help I had getting through this first year I am blown away with gratitude.

Friends who bought me groceries when I had to go down in hours at work and I hadn’t gotten my financial aid disbursement yet.

Friends who let me study in their living room when there was a kid’s birthday party here at the house with some many children it was like being inside a bouncy house trying to study.

Friends who bought me readers from Copy Central.

Friends who gave me rides to and from classes.

Friends who commiserated with me about the amount of work involved and how they did it, my nurse and doctor friends, my lawyer friends, my fellows in cohort.

My employers for being flexible and once a month letting me have off on Fridays so I could go to classes all day.

All the people who cheered me along the way and said, you can do it!

I did it.

Thank you friends!

I couldn’t, really, have done it without you.

That is not to down play the amount of work I did.

I did a lot of fucking work.

I showed up consistently, I didn’t miss a single class (which also helps me in writing the papers, let’s be honest, it’s a lot easier to stay on top of things if you are in the classroom, the importance of every class when it’s an intensive full time program taught on the weekend is huge), I did all my readings, well almost all of them, I may have missed an article here or there, but I really read all the books and texts and the majority, over 95% of the readers, I turned in every paper on time and I showed up for every project I had to present on time and prepared.

Yeah.

I know.

Fucking perfectionist.

“Now you can relax,” a friend text me.

Yeah.

Sure.

How though?

It’s going to take me a minute to unwind from all of this, I already know that, it feels very surreal to have all the work done when I consider that over the past year there was always something I had to be working on.

Going back to full time work is going to feel like a vacation.

Speaking of vacation.

New York in four days!

OMG.

I’m fucking going to New York.

I can finally get excited about it.

I have all my work done.

“That paper isn’t due yet, though, not for two weeks,” my friend text me when I said I was going to do the Psychodynamic paper today.

Yup.

Except that I will be in New York next weekend and I don’t want it over my head and I didn’t want to have to worry about carving out time after I got back from the trip either.

Although.

Heh.

I was a smart cookie.

I’m going to be coming back really early on Monday morning, flying out of JFK at 7:30 a.m.

What with the time change it will be 9:30 a.m. or something like that, and I asked off for the whole day from work.

Yup.

A full day to decompress from the trip and not force myself right back into the grind.

I’ll get to ease back in.

Super grateful I planned that out.

I have also made loose plans for the trip.

Friday I will get up and walk around Clinton Park, the area I’m staying in, grab some coffee and eat some breakfast and then make my way around Brooklyn.

I’m just going to wander.

I have an 8p.m. date with a friend to go do the deal in Williamsburg at Northside, so I figure  I’ll just mosey about Brooklyn all day Friday.

Hit the vintage shops.

Hit the coffee shops.

Wander around the Brooklyn Botanical garden.

Maybe pop into the Brooklyn Museum.

Go to book stores.

I’m very tempted to also hop over to Green Point and see if I can get into Three Kings Tattoo for some fresh ink.  I wouldn’t be able to get a tattoo that day, I’d have to go back after the consultation but they’re open late and I was thinking late Sunday I could get the work done.

It’s a thought, I have very tentative ideas about a piece.

I just like the idea of getting a piece done there, as I have in Paris now twice, it would be fun to add New York to the geographic map of my meandering travel life.

Then Saturday hit the city.

I want to go to the Guggenheim and the MOMA.

I know that’s a lot of museum to do in one day, but I’m on my own and I’m good company and I walk fast, I take the subway into New York, I hit the MOMA first, it closes earlier than the Guggenheim which will be open later, then onto the Guggenheim.

I drink lots of coffee.

I see art.

I buy notes books and take pictures of graffiti and get stickers.

I walk.

I soak it the fuck up.

I eat what ever I want.

Raw oysters.

I drink bubbly water till the cows come home.

I go do the deal somewhere if it makes sense to do so.

I plan on doing the new Whitney on Sunday and then walking the High Line Park and wandering around the little independent galleries around Chelsea.

If I decide to get a tattoo I head back over to Green Point and do that.

Part of me also wants to go to Coney Island.

But I’m not sure.

And I think that’s something to do with another person, ride the Ferris Wheel, go on the tilt-a-whirl, ride the Cyclone, seems like I would want a person to do that with.

Museums and walking about and exploring though.

That’s the deal.

That is my celebration.

I gave myself a trip to New York when I headed into the beginning of this semester.

I am so glad I did.

I am so excited to do this for myself.

I’m so grateful I made it through the school year.

Here’s to the beginning of my awesome summer vacation.

I have no idea where it’s going to go.

I just know I earned it.

And.

It’s going to be fucking awesome.

It already is!

So, So, So Close

May 15, 2016

I can taste it.

It tastes like Lacanian sherbert with Milly D. on top.

It sounds like Vagina Punk.

It swims in the electric blue seas of eros.

It is the Psych(e)dynamics paper.

And.

It is all I have left to do.

I have finished my Ethics and Family Law take home final and sent it in.

I have finished my last paper for Applied Spirituality and sent it in.

I sent in my huge 11 page paper with references on transference and countertransference last night.

I have one paper left.

ONE.

I can’t do it tonight.

Oh.

I suppose I could.

I probably could spit something out in an hour and a half of so.

I know what I want to write on, although I may change my mind, I already discussed it with the professor, Mildred Dubitzky, my punk rock, radical feminist, pro-Freudian, professor, and she gave me the thumbs up.

The only fly in the ointment is that two years ago another student wrote on the same topic and I’m a little loathe to write on something she has already read about.

So.

I may change my topic slightly, depending on my mood.

But, not tonight.

No.

Tonight, the rest of the night, is not for going out or being crazy or trying to get across the bridge and hit the party at NIMBY, although I got umpteen requests and questions regarding whether or not I was going to go.

I turned them all down and said, not today, Ethics final has to get done.

I’m actually pretty fucking proud of myself today.

I got a lot of stuff done.

I got up and went to yoga.

Showered, breakfasted, coffee’d, did some writing.

Hopped on the scooter went up to 7th and Irving and hit Tart to Tart for some heart to heart with my person and some discussion of amends.

Amazing that.

I don’t owe anyone any direct amends.

NO ONE.

Fuck yeah.

This shit works.

I, of course, will stay the course with the living amends that I have had outlined and really I am doing well with those and having fun, actually, who knew, amends could be fun.

Being light.

Letting myself have fun.

Even with all the school stuff hanging over me.

I have had my moments.

I also had a great hour of sitting with my fellows and hearing someone with a lot of time, a lot, 37 years, break it down.

So freaking grateful.

After that I treated myself to a little lunch and a new pair of silver hoop earrings.

Because this girl cannot get enough hoop earrings.

I will be buying some when I go to New York.

I always buy earrings when I travel.

I actually am wearing a pair of pink heart earrings that I got at a brocante (flea market) in Paris that was around Square D’Anvers, right before I left Paris three years ago this May.

I love wearing earrings that I have gotten as souvenirs, never fails to remind of the moment or the place where I got them.

I don’t spend a lot of money on them, typically no more than ten bucks or so and they are small and travel easily back with me from where ever I am.

I’ll be at 262 Taafe Place, fyi, in case you were wondering, in Brooklyn, in Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, which is not as gentrified as Williamsburg.

Which means a little sketchy but good vintage shops and coffee.

As long as I have coffee I’ll be fine.

And I’m not afraid of rough neighborhoods and I won’t look like a tourist in New York and I’m not staying in a place that tourist typically stay.

Ironically it’s maybe a mile away from where I stayed the last time, my first time, in New York, so I have a pretty good feel for what the area is like.

Dirty, bodega, bodega, subway stop, ooh coffee shop with house roasted beans, vintage store, bodgea, bodega, etc, and hopefully, some good graffiti.

God I love me some graffiti.

I could just do a walking tour of the neighborhoods and take photos of graffiti.

I would pee my pants if I saw a Banksy.

A girl can dream.

I have not done a ton of research yet around my trip, I’m still rather in the throes of school.

But I also got my grocery shopping done for the week and my cooking.

I had to grocery shop today.

Tomorrow will be a shit show out here what with it being Bay to Breakers idiocy.

Drunks running around in costume.

Whee.

I’ll be too busy writing my paper to notice.

Or I’ll hang out in the back yard.

Or.

Ooh.

God, wouldn’t this be nice.

I get the paper done early.

I’m not going to make any promises.

But I should have it done by dinner time.

I really do believe that.

Most of my papers for the class I have gotten done under two hours.

Really what it comes down to is reviewing the reading and my notes and just sitting down to my computer and starting.

And now that I have the proper software to format my papers, thank you so much to my friend in cohort who turned me onto it (it format’s your paper automatically in APA so I don’t have to beat my head on the Purdue OWL or the Chicago format page), I won’t have to worry about references being wonky.

I really do think I’ll be done by dinner time.

What will I do to celebrate?

Run around the park naked?

Oh wait, every body else will be doing that tomorrow.

I’m going to New York, I am going to be celebrating there.

Although, you know, finishing my first year of grad school does deserve some instant recognition on the day I turn in my last paper for the year.

I’ll come up with something.

I’m clever.

Heh.

God damn.

I’m excited.

I’m almost there.

It’s been a crazy ass year.

So much has happened.

I have changed so much.

So fucking much.

“You have changed,” she said to me, across the table at Tart to Tart, “you really have, it’s amazing to see.”

I smiled.

I have changed.

I am in awe.

I am amazed.

I am in love with my life.

Fuck yeah.

I really am.

Yes.

The luckiest girl in the world.

 

Impromptu Dance Party

May 14, 2016

My date cancelled.

And then.

I got my period.

It’s a Friday night.

And.

I’m at home.

AND I DON’T GIVE ONE FINE FUCK!

I finished my Clinical Relationship paper.

It’s done!

Done!

Done!

Oh sweet Jesus, the relief.

Excuse me, I just had another impromptu dance party in my chair.

Happy, happy.

Joy, joy.

11 full pages.

APA format.

References, title page, all the things.

Proper like.

3,744 words.

Thank you.

Thank you very fucking much.

Lucky one.

I am two.

Lucky three, the one for me.

One, two, three I’m on my knees.

Oh my god.

I’m in tears.

This music.

I get high.

I was listening to Masters of Reality, Sunrise on the Surfer Bus, twenty years ago.

Twenty.

In that house on Franklin Street in Madison, my roommates were my boyfriend Justin–he and I shared the big back room–we had a couple of Bengal leopard cats and a tabby (Mia, Tiger, and Porkchop)–and a king size water bed (giggle), Matt, Justin’s best friend, and Naboja–the heroin junkie from Serbia.

God we were wild.

Pot growing in the closets, cats running ruckus throughout the house, Matt’s girlfriend and I were arch nemesis (why?  I have no idea, but something to do with drinking the last of my milk and leaving the empty container in the fridge), Justin playing chess and smoking bongs, Naboja running in and out of the house with nefarious friends and black tar (God I was naive).

Justin cheated on me twice in that house.

And I stayed for five years.

(five years of no writing, no poetry, no words, no journal entries, note to self you die when you aren’t writing)

Oof.

The things I put myself through not knowing there was a way out.

However.

It was not all bad, there was sweetness and light and just as I introduced him to classical music and Blues and jazz (he became a total jazz junkie) he introduced me to Soul Coughing and Jeff Buckley, we saw them both in concert together–Buckley touring for Grace at the Barrymore and Soul Coughing on tour for Ruby Vroom at the Eagles Ballroom.

He made me listen to Sleater Kinney–saw them too, at the Union South of all places on campus, tiny little space and they slayed it, fucking killed it dead on the floor revived the bitch, then killed it again.

We saw Annie DiFranco at the Civic Center.

I think Justin was the only man in the audience who was straight.

Although his hair was so long from behind he could have been a girl.

We saw Primus, fucking loved Les Claypool so hard; he turned me on to Sepultura, although I had to be in the mood, once in a while, well, I was.

We saw Beck, Morphine, Cake.

So much good music.

He found a stained glass artist at the Farmer’s Market one sunny Saturday morning, I had closed the Essen Haus the night before, a crazy German restaurant and brew hall I worked notoriously long hours for, and he’d bought a pair of earrings from her.

They were long, almost a tear drop shape, navy blue, with small striations of sky blue and robins egg blue and white at the tips.  I eventually found that artisan again and asked her to make me sets of those earrings.

I don’t have any of them anymore.

Maybe I should look her up again.

They were gorgeous in their simplicity and when I wore my hair up and the sun hit them.

Magic.

That was what there were to me that day.

Magic.

Sex and love and passion and music and youth and beauty.

God.

I was so beautiful

(and fat and ugly and ugly and fat and you better do something about that or you’re going to grow up and be alone forever)

I had no idea.

I woke up tangled in the sheets on the water bed, Porkchop meowing at me, rolled out of bed and took a shower, I smelled like beer and cigarettes and rinder rouladen gravy and weinerschnitzle and schnapps and dirty dirndl.

Justin was not there.

There was no note, it was late, afternoon already, past noon, past one, heading into the golden bright light bouncing off James Madison park and the lake and I supposed that Justin was out throwing a frisbee at the park with the guys.

I showered and enjoyed having the apartment to myself.

I put on my favorite A-line skirt and a leotard, navy blue, and dried my hair into its big mass of curls.

I went into our bedroom and turned on Masters of Reality and began dancing, barefoot, to When Jody Sings (how interesting! I just realized my professor’s name for the Clinical Relationship is “Jyoti” is it odd?  Is it God? Is it counter transference?  Read my paper and find out), the skirt a soft, small print, I mean tiny, it was such a tiny print you almost couldn’t tell it was a print, of navy, red, and green plaid (it had been a house dress of my mom’s that never quite fit me in the bodice, so I ripped off the top and reconstructed it as a skirt) flaring out around my calves.

I love a skirt that flares when I spin.

I danced in the sunlight streaming through the windows, singing the song and delighting in my own self.

Justin was standing in the door way.

Smitten.

The look on his face.

I won’t soon forget.

I can still see it twenty years ago like it was this morning.

“Did you find your gift?” He asked me, smiling, his head tilted, bright eyed (high, oh so high) and lit up.

I paused in my dance, flustered, but pleased that he’d seen me in a moment (a rare one at the time) when I felt truly myself, truly beautiful.

Oh do I ache for her.

(yes, I know, I’m emotional, I got my period, roll with it please)

He walked across the wood floor, that odd way he walked sometimes, high, on the balls of his feet like he was cantilevered forward always rushing off into the future where things were brighter, higher, more rare and real, and he took my hand and led me to the window.

“These,” he said pointing at the earrings.

I had not seen them.

Hanging from the window screen, blazing in the sunlight like the ocean at sunset tonight when I rode my scooter home, thank you God for letting me live in San Francisco and see the fire of the setting sun on the water, thank you, dancing alive and dappled with shade from the oak trees rustling in the breeze.

“Oh,” I said, softly startled, inordinately pleased.

“They are so beautiful,” I took them off the screen and put them in my ears.

“So are you,” he said and kissed me.

The afternoon melted into evening and I wore them that night to work, they matched my dirndl.

And oh.

How far this woman has come.

So very far, across the country, through valleys and peaks and the lowest lows.

My voice broke tonight.

Sitting in the front row, the low lights hiding my face, the sudden tears, but nothing could hide the break in my voice as I described how grateful I was to be there.

Sitting there in that chair there, still not done with my paper (had to do the references when I got home tonight), but almost, the writing was done all 3,744 words, and though I was tired, up at 7:30 a.m. to do the work before I went to work, I was so profoundly grateful.

Who knew I was going to be this woman?

When I scootered off after school on Saturday night I snuck through Minna Alley.

It’s a one way.

There were needles and shit and homeless people and tents and crates and a woman smoking crack out of a pipe, the scent sweet, rotten, rotting, aching with the need to fill that hole that just cannot get whole.

“I was that woman, twelve years ago, sitting on a piece of cardboard smoking from a crack pipe, and now, now, here I am riding my scooter, that I paid for in cash, brand new, riding home from the graduate school that I go to around the corner,” I paused, my heart broke open.

How lucky am I?

Luckiest girl in the fucking world.

And my paper’s done.

And my heart.

Well, once again, it is on my sleeve.

Exactly as it should be.

My love.

Exactly where it belongs.

Just there.

Love.

Just there.

 

 

Ending With A Whimper

May 13, 2016

So not a bang.

However.

I did, between this morning and tonight, between yoga and a full day at work, get my notes organized, tabbed, and compiled, as well as finding all the things I want to reference for my big final paper for my Clinical Relationship class.

Suffice to say I am a bit zonked.

Up at 8 a.m.

Doing my morning routine, breakfast, coffee, writing, then starting to get my feet into the transference/countertransference pool, then yoga–which was really needed–and back here to the house, a quick shower, and yes!

I found a place to stay in Brooklyn!

Wait.

Fuck.

No I didn’t.

So bummed.

Cool loft in a warehouse in Bushwick, I had hopped on Air BnB to just peek at it before work and there it was!

I booked, made the request, plopped my credit card number down and waited to hear back.

I heard back later in the day and it was a let down.

The loft was only available three of the four nights I needed.

And I figured, well, I don’t want to be wandering around on my last day trying to negotiate one place to another, rather just say no thanks, and find something else.

Problem is that when I got home from work I was so beat down by the work day that I had barely any brain cells to rub together.

I looked a while on Air BnB but it just got to be too much and I decided that my main focus has to be organizing my big paper.

I got off the site and sorted out the rest of my readings and made loads of notes and probably have enough stuff to write a twenty page paper.

I just have to write it.

So tomorrow.

Another early start before work and no yoga, just the writing.

Getting as much done as possible, then work.

And work will not work me as much as it did today since I’m taking a half day to hit a doctors appointment, then back here to the house to finish up what ever I don’t write tomorrow morning.

Work really was full tilt boogie today.

In no particular order I went to the corner store and bought groceries, enough broccoli for three batches of my homemade soup, got milk for the boys for the next couple of days, boiled over a dozen eggs for the family to take to school; made the aforementioned soup, a quadruple batch by the recipe, actually; roasted a chicken, then later pulled all the meat that was remaining off the chicken for making chicken salad tomorrow for the boys lunches over the weekend; roasted radishes (yeah, you can do that, they’re pretty fucking tasty too) made sushi rice, cleaned up the house a bit, organized some of the boys stuff; and then took the two monkeys to the Farmer’s Market on Bartlett and 22nd where I juggled a full flat of strawberries, 5 pints of cherries, 1 container of cheese curds (CARMEN! CARMEN! CARMEN! Give me more cheese curds please, please, PLEASE!), smoked salmon for visiting pooh bahs, um, ha, I mean grandparents, basket of apricots, pint of mulberries, and one container garlic cheese dip.

Served dinner, did baths, did pajama time, did color time, did ALL the dishes, I mean, there was a lot of washing up, two gigantic bags of compost–I did so much food prep–took out recycling and tried to not think about the paper I have to write.

Tried.

It snuck in a few times, but most of the day I was too busy to breathe let alone think about transference, counter transference, Freud, Lessem, McWilliams, Kohut, Kahn, Stolorow, or any of the other characters who have had possession of my brain.

Let me tell you all about it.

Nah.

I’ll bore you to sleep.

I watched the six year old do classic splitting and projecting around the mom as he experienced separation anxiety in regards to the imminent grand parent visit, and tried to feed the anxious dog as many scraps as I could sneak.

I love my job though and it’s a good family I work for, grandparents just mean more work and I seem to forget that.

Then again.

This was my first time having a paper due on a Friday rather than at the end of the weekend and it has thrown me off my stride a little.

I was laughing to myself.

Full time work after this year of school is going to feel like a vacation.

I joked with a friend that I’ll be flying across the country to New York to take a nap.

Although.

I did have a moment in yoga today.

A revery slipped in.

A Queens of Harlem sort of thought.

And Harlem is not somewhere I had thought about staying.

But it has a nice flavor to it when I say it.

And I was thinking too, hmm, I might need a tattoo while I’m in New York.

But.

First.

A place to stay.

I took out some money from my savings today too, made the transfer so I wouldn’t have to worry about the travel costs and told myself that I would let myself stay somewhere nice.

It don’t have to be fancy.

But nice.

I thought about some hipster hotel I had heard of until I saw the hipster price–$300 a night.

Fuck that.

But I can find a good place and I know it will happen.

Now that I have my notes and books organized I feel like tomorrow it will be just to show up to the page and the words will flow.

They always do.

I’m going to take a few more minutes tonight to poke around Air BnB.

But rest.

That’s where it’s really at for me right now.

A cup of tea, a little snack, a tiny bit of video to unwind.

Then sleep.

I have done a full days work.

Good work.

Strong work.

I have earned this rest.

It will be had.

Nighty night y’all.

May your dreams be full of Freudian slips.

Heh.

Upside Down

May 12, 2016

Right side in.

Topsy turvy.

This day has been strange.

However.

I have rolled with it really well, surprisingly so, I feel super settled and though overwhelmed a little, just now, pretty able to just groove along with what is happening.

It did not hurt that I got a full night’s rest.

I was knocked out last night.

It still took me a minute to fall out, but when I did, whoa, I was down.

I think I actually got a solid eight hours, which is the first time since last Thursday.

Yay sleep.

I got myself organized this morning, stripping the bed and washing the sheets, getting into my morning routine, a little breakfast, a couple cups of coffee, some writing.

Oh.

Yeah.

And text my friend who’s place I’m staying at in Brooklyn.

I mean, I should find out how I’m getting into his place when I show up there next Thursday.

Except.

Well.

Shoot.

His travel plans were changed and he actually needs to stay at his room in Brooklyn and I need to find another place to stay.

I really took it well.

I was a little sad at first, I mean, who doesn’t want to save a few bucks on a place to stay?

But then.

I got happy.

Hey!

I get to see my friend, I get to go do the deal with him and see how he’s doing and catch up and grab a coffee and maybe walk around Brooklyn.

I may wrangle him for one of my museum days.

He is an artist after all.

So instead of getting miffed, I just got real.

Ok God.

Where do you want me to stay?

I mean.

I am a little overwhelmed with the decision.

I reached out via the social media and said, hey, what’s up New York?

I have gotten some nice leads.

Suffice to say, and I am not at all ashamed of this, I’m a little too freaking tight on time to give it a whole lot of thought.

The place will find me or I will find it.

Right now.

My mind is focused on finishing the work for school, because I’m not going to have any fun in New York if I still have papers to hand into to my professors.

I got one more in today.

Just a small piece, a page posting and a couple of response replies to the thread online.

Not much, but some motion.

And!

Yes!

Oh, such sweet relief, and I have no idea how it happened, but the APA formatting software that my friend let me download from her, well, I finally got it to open.

I have absolutely no idea what I did differently, but it suddenly happened.

I texted her and got the password to the account.

And voila!

I can now format all my papers in APA style.

No more pulling out my hair trying to figure out citations for the paper, the software does all the work for you, organizing, formatting, my paper will be perfect!

Well.

At least better formatted than the previous ones.

I still have to write the thing.

I made some strides though, small ones, but it was a start.

I put away the one class reader and notebook that I have finished all my reading and papers for, thanks and good night Multi-Cultural Counseling, it’s been fun.

Then I organized my three other classes that I have assignments due for and did the aforementioned posting for the fourth class.

I had five classes this semester.

Going back to just working full time is going to feel like a vacation.

No wonder I am having trouble focusing on where the hell to stay in New York.

Queens?

Brooklyn?

Hell’s Kitchen?

Harlem?

Chelsea?

Wait.

Come back, Martines, not there yet.

Get back to the paper.

So.

I started going through my notes and putting the stickies with scrawled notes and ideas on my notebook.  I started to get the gist of what I am going to write.

Tomorrow I’m going to do yoga in the morning and when I get done I usually have a few moments after my shower to look at things, I’ll take another half hour and keep up the organizing.  Then, come home and review the rest of it.  I’ll take Friday to do the writing, before and after work and the doctor’s appointment.

Then date night.

Because a girl’s got to have some play too.

All work and no play makes Carmen no fucking fun.

I’m listening to Mike Doughty’s Stellar Motel right now, he lives in New York, and as I have been blogging I have had this little question in my head.

“Where would Mike Doughty stay?”

Fucking cracks me up.

Maybe I’ll just message him.

Hey, you got a place you like?

No, you don’t know me, but you follow me on Instagram.

Ha.

I do actually have a lot of connections and folks I know in New York or people that have traveled there and had suggestions.

Everything from my boss saying she like Gramercy Park (um, out of my price range) to go where there’s good coffee shops–Queens, Brooklyn, etc.

Oops.

Ha.

Digressed again.

I am happy though.

I have the opportunity to go to New York and have a completely different experience than the one I planned.

Isn’t most of my life like that?

While I’m busy making plans, God steps in and says, “no, here, this will work better, you’ll like this more.”

Ok, God, so yeah, where should I stay?

Now that I know what you want me to smell like.

OMG.

I found my scent.

I am in love.

Remember, couple weeks back, I dropped my brand new bottle of Chanel’s Egoiste Pour Homme in my sink, yeah, that sad, sad day, I haven’t had any perfume since then.

I have not had the time, or, well, truly, the inclination, to replace it.

I suspected I was needing something new.

And wouldn’t you know it.

I got to work super early today, the traffic was oddly light, and I parked on Valencia and paid for all day parking, still waiting on the permit, in front of a specialty perfume shop that opened a little while back–Tiger Lily.

I walked in.

I told the woman what I used to wear that I really loved.

Issey Miyake Feu D’Issey.

Then I told her about the Egoiste Pour Homme and breaking the bottle and that Chanel had sold me the last bottle and were waiting for restocking.

That I decided I needed a new scent and I was looking for something closer to the Issey Miyake perfume.

I described what I wanted and she and I walked around the store.

She suggested this and that.

And they were nice, but not exactly what I wanted.

Then.

Oh damn Gina.

There it was.

Rose Flash.

Holy shit.

I had a visceral reaction to it.

I shuddered deeply with pleasure as the scent washed over me.

I felt warm and lush and supplicant and hot and fiery and sexy and roses and candles and spicy, all so delicious I could barely stand it.

I was completely transported.

“This one!” I said fierce with the knowing.

“How much?”  I asked, bracing myself for the amount.

“$60, and it’s perfume, not a toilette, so it will last you a while,” she smiled.

“I’ll take it,” I walked over to the counter heady with the perfume.

“We’re currently out,” she said scanning her supply.

Well poo.

“But, it’s a local perfumery and I can get it in really quick, let me have your e-mail and I’ll send you a message as soon as it comes in, and in the meantime, let me give you a sample, I love how you reacted to it!”

Yup.

And I have been dreamily reacting to it all day long.

I put some on at work and the soft warm wafts of scent would envelope me and my mood would just shift and change and open.

Happy.

I feel happy smelling it.

Ah.

So nice.

See.

Something new.

A new smell, a new experience.

There’s something great in New York.

Serendipity.

Love.

Adventure.

There are no problems.

Only different points of view.

Different perspectives and a new opportunity to have a different experience.

Looking forward to it.

Now, excuse me, while I wind down.

I’ve got some busy time ahead of me.

And opportunity to see what happens next.

I suspect it will be amazing.

It always is.


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