Scheduling


Jesus.

I looked over the next few weeks on the work calendar and just about threw up.

First day of school?

What?

No.

NOOOOOOO.

I’m still on summer break.

And yet.

There it was the first weekend of school on the books.

The mom was working on the boys school schedule, which reminded me, need to ask off for September 1st, must to go see Mike Doughty with my peoples.

I don’t have to have the whole day off, but I do need to be done with work by 6p.m.

“Mike Doughty, from Soul Coughing?!” The dad asked.

“Yup, he’s doing a Living Room tour and for one day will be in San Francisco and I managed to get tickets from myself and some friends,” I replied.

“He’s great!” The dad said, “wow, you might even get to meet him and talk.”

Yeah.

I would like that.

Amongst other things, heh.

But.

In the request for the day to be an “early” day for me, when the boys are in school I don’t start until 1p.m. and the boys will be starting school that week, so it made me realize that I also needed to tell the parents that I will be in school that Friday too.

It’s happening fast.

The summer has been fun, but I’m not ready to think yet, quite, about school.

I had a moment of mild panic, really, mild when I look at it, that I wouldn’t have enough money in my savings to buy books before the financial aid disbursement happens.

Fact is.

I haven’t received my awards letter for the fall semester.

I have no clue what I am getting in the way of aid.

I got what I needed last year, but I also made less money that year.

I made more money, almost double, at least on the books, for the this past year and I am hoping, hoping, hoping, that I will get the financial aid I need to pay for the next year of school.

I still have a scholarship disbursement, but I will have to cover the other $20,0o0 for the year after the scholarship is applied.

The cost of the program is about $30,000 per year.

And, um, yeah, I live in San Francisco, like you know, the most expensive fucking place to live in the U.S.

Then.

I snuffed the thought.

Fuck that.

I will be taken care of.

If I don’t get the financial aid the money will come from somewhere else.

I didn’t get straight A’s for my first year of graduate school to be dropped on my second year ass.

I worked hard.

Hella hard.

Now.

I want to be able to play the rest of the summer and not be concerned about finances and school and books and stuff.

It will all come when it’s supposed to.

“Do you have any more travel plans for the summer,” my friend asked me last night after I told him about my adventures in New Orleans.

I don’t know.

There is still a very tender part of me that wants so to go to Burning Man, that I can’t quite picture not going, but I have no idea what that would look like anyhow.

Where would I get a ticket, who would I camp with, how would I get there?

I would go.

I want to go.

I could go early.

It’s so obscured right now in my head, I can’t see it and it might be the first time I haven’t, hmm, you know, that’s not true, I didn’t know how I was going to go when I was in Paris, and yet I went, I can’t always see how it plays out, but somehow or other I have always ended up on playa.

One of my ladies that I work with doing the deal got a ticket and got off from work.

The glee and excitement in her voice, she’s a virgin burner, when she left me the message on the phone was almost unbearable to hear.

I do believe, though, that I am not going to be heart broken with whatever happens that week.

I’ll be ok, the plans, God’s plans, are always better than mine.

I can’t manipulate Burning Man into happening.

If it were to happen, it’s got to be simple and clean and easy, the best things are the simplest.

If it were complicated it wouldn’t work, it never does.

If it’s meant to be, I can’t fuck it up.

If it’s not, I can’t manipulate it into happening.

Just like I realized today when I wanted to bring up that first weekend of school, not just from the standpoint of hey, employers, I’m going to be in class Friday the 2nd of September, but oh yeah, um, remember when you said we would revisit my employment for the fall when the boys are in their next year of school.

What about that?

But I didn’t.

I realized that I don’t need to.

I am being taken care of.

“You write down everything you do for them and present them with it when your contract is up and point out the things that you do that are part of your contract and also what you do that is not on the contract, and let them see it, you don’t even need to ask for a raise, or mention money, you just present your list to them,” a friend told me the other day when we were talking about self-employment and what that looks like moving forward with contracts and negotiations.

September will also mark 2 years for me with the family.

Not that I will be gunning for a raise, but that I want to know if they will be needing me for the next school year.

I can’t see that they won’t, I do so much for them as a whole, not just the boys, but the whole family, the household in its entirety.

But I know that if they don’t want me moving forward.

Well.

Someone else will.

I’m taken care of.

I always have been.

I always will.

As long as I keep in fit spiritual condition.

I’ll be just fine.

More than fine.

Better than fine.

Happy.

Fucking joyous.

And.

Free.

Free.

Free.

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