Archive for the ‘Musuems’ Category

You Look Like

June 30, 2016

Mint chocolate chip ice cream with cherries on top.

He said as I walked by.

“LOVE YOUR HAIR,” he added, giving me the nod for extra special emphasis.

Thanks dude.

Everybody likes to look like ice cream.

Well.

I do.

I did have to laugh a little at myself though for the outfit I was rolling down the street with, or up the street as the case may be, heading to the spot I spend my Wednesday evenings at getting right with God.

I had come home, started my laundry and rubbed one out.

Hey.

Look.

Sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

Although I could have taken up an offer I was made this afternoon.

“How about ten months?” He texted me.

“Um, hmm, I’ll think about that, let me get back to you,” I replied.

I got back to him a few minutes later, I already knew the answer, but it was fun for a moment to consider.

“Get your year and check back with me,” I replied.

Mother fucker.

REALLY?

Like the third one in a week.

What is up?

Did no one get their birthday last June?

What the fuck is in the air?

My hormones I suppose.

The blood is high, I can tell you what.

My cycle won’t hit until I get back from New Orleans.

Great, I thought tonight as I stripped down to hop in the shower, my breasts a good half size larger than yesterday, great, I’m ovulating or soon will be.

Meh.

I do not need to head of to New Orleans with plans of getting laid, I have other things to think about, do, go to, experience.

Was I heading to New Orleans with a partner, it would be the perfect place to wander romantic in the warm night rains and make out under a lamp post.

Just nibble my neck there and there and then we’ll stroll through the French Quarter and maybe a few cemeteries, because, well, death is sexy, no?

Anyway.

I took care of business, and then laundry and then the shower and in between packing for the trip and being on top of the clothes being in the wash, I had, um, a curious assortment of an outfit as I walked out the door.

And.

I have to say, I pulled it off.

I don’t know how, but sometimes more is better.

Leopard print leggings.

A mint colored nightshirt with candy skulls in pink and white piping, topped off with a sea green sweatshirt and of course a big mountain of cotton candy pink hair with some pink roses and a sequined star clip.

Because sequins.

Hello.

I probably look ridiculous.

But.

Fuck it.

It made me happy and I was cozy as fuck.

Because, bitches, it’s cold out there.

Freaking foggy, chilly, cold, etc, etc, etc.

It was 50 degrees this morning when I got up and socked in with fog, which never really lifted.

It got a tiny bit sunny in the Mission, but the fog that had burned off was rapidly being replaced by 3 p.m. with a fresh batch of cold as fuck rolling in over Twin Peaks.

Hello summer in San Francisco.

They are not kidding.

And the Outer Sunset?

Shut the fuck up.

It was never not foggy out here.

I don’t suppose it ever really burned off.

When I hopped off my scooter and came in and greeted my house, “hello house,” I immediately turned on the heat and lit up some candles.

Welcome to summer, break out your scarves.

I am so looking forward to being somewhere warm for a little while.

I’m sure the heat and the humidity will lose their luster pretty quick, but right now, it sounds fantastic.

A warm run of nights where I can walk outside bare skinned to the air and drift in the warm magnolia scent of summer.

Bring it the fuck on.

One more shift at work and then I’m ghost.

I’ll finish work at 6p.m.

Scooter home.

Grab my rolling suitcase, which is 95% packed, and head out the door to the airport.

I will probably call for a car.

I could try the MUNI and the BART, but I think I’ll also be hitting rush hour commute time and I don’t particularly care to risk being late on the flight.

I would rather get there a little early and blog from the waiting area at the gate.

Tomorrow!

I fly out tomorrow.

My flight is out of SFO at 10:41 p.m.

I’ll have a brief, less than an hour, layover in Las Vegas, then onto Houston, Texas, with another brief layover and transfer.

What with the time change I will arrive in New Orleans at 8:24 a.m.

I’m not excited about the indirect flight, the two change overs are going to wreck me for sleep, but it was worth it to get the discounted ticket, otherwise it was going to be another three to four hundred dollars to fly direct.

I figured that was money for the Air BnB.

Or for the experience of being there, restaurants, souvenirs, tickets to places, should I swing into the New Orleans Museum of Modern Art, it’s actually close to where I am staying, or just for riding around the French Quarter on a street car.

The disjointed travel was worth it.

I’m not upset and it worked out well for me timing wise too.

I’ll hang out and have a nice leisurely breakfast somewhere fabulous in the hood where I am staying and roll into my Air BnB at noon.

A swim in the pool?

A soak in the tub?

A fresh change of clothes, a sexy sundress.

And then off to explore a little and a late lunch before for going to the conference and hitting the registration and the big night get together.

I’m so ready.

Saturday I am really going to play by ear.

I know where I will be in the evening, at the conference, but I really do want to do a little exploring, walk, shop, dine, see what New Orleans has to offer, and also, what do I have to offer to the city, since I am such a taker.

How can I go and best be of service to the situation?

Make amends for the time previous I was there and my behavior, it was not so pretty.

I’m wild with excitement.

And I’ll keep you posted on all the adventures.

Promise.

See you next from the gate at United Airlines flight 455 SFO.

Happy.

Joyous.

Motherfucking.

Free.

Advertisements

Home Free

January 1, 2016

Happy.

And.

Alone.

But.

Oh.

So not lonely.

No.

I am not at all.

I had a wonderful day, despite there being some unexpected hiccups and some tears at the start of the day.

Sometimes I wake up sad.

Makes sense.

I was sad when I went to bed last night.

The nice thing.

I noted this morning as I was writing and it overcame me again, a wave of it, that if I let it happen, not stifle it, not restrain it, just let it happen, it passes rather fast.

I had my cry.

I wrote my heart out.

Then I got on my day.

Important thing to get on in my day.

A scarf.

I texted my friend who had stashed my scarf in his carry on and then I totally forgot it.

“Oh shit, I’m going to need my scarf today,” I said, out loud, because yes, I do talk to myself.

I randomly shot out a text, figured I would have to make a special trip, only to receive, in short notice, a message that he was in the hood on the way to the store, five minutes.

Perfection.

And that might have been the only perfect thing in my day.

At least this morning.

Really.

It all was perfection.

Even down to this, quietly sitting in my in-law while the neighbors pop champagne and holler and the horns are blowing.

Hello 2016.

Nice to meet you.

Let’s be friends.

I am not ashamed, upset, or annoyed.

I am at perfect calm and ease.

Again.

The far cry from where I was when I got up.

I think part of my issue was, not that I admitted it right away, that I was planning on doing homework all weekend and I was feeling that I was isolating myself before it had even begun.

Turns out God had different plans for me.

After I had my cry, my oatmeal, my coffee, and lots of writing and getting right with God.

I had some perspective and some honest gratitude.

Then.

I got online and got annoyed.

The syllabi for my classes were incomplete, the readers were confusing me, what books do I need to buy, how much is that going to cost me, why isn’t there an easier way to do this?

I commiserated via text with one of my cohort and between the two of us, we made some good leeway.

Enough so that I was able to order all, I believe, although I am not entirely sure, my texts for the semester at a nice tidy sum of $198 on Amazon.

It would have been double, perhaps triple that had I ordered new texts, but I got all used, so that was helpful.

Then I got myself bundled up.

I mean bundled.

Tank top, long sleeve undershirt, light sweatshirt, heavy sweatshirt, scarf.

On top off all that, my motorcycle jacket.

The helmet, the riding gloves, and off into the cold breezy San Francisco afternoon, on down Lincoln, around the park, past the Pan Handle up and over the hills to downtown, then onto Mission Street, past the bums and crack heads, the junkies and whores, the party people, the homeless, the twisted, the crazy, then, onto the pretty and the shopping district, the Metreon, Yerba Buena, the high end hotels, the MOMA, and all the little haunts and spots I used to know of so very, very well, once upon a time in a land far, far away during my brief and almost fatal stay to Cokelandia.

On down to Copy Central between New Montgomery and 2nd street on Mission.

I used to buy Van Heusen work shirts just a few doors down from there.

I used to do a lot of things in that neighborhood.

Today, I just wanted my readers for my Multi-Cultural class and my second semester of Dubitzky and Psychoanalytic’s.

And guess what?

They weren’t ready.

I got the text seconds after I was standing in line from my friend, who had called, smart lady, to check on the status of the readers to find out that they weren’t done and wouldn’t be done until Monday.

Well fuck me.

I was pissed.

But.

It passed quick.

Really quick.

I also received another text almost directly on top of that inviting me over to a friends house for New Year’s Eve dinner.

Yes.

Lovely.

I’m in.

I am not going to be doing homework after all.

I got over the angry right quick and as I walked out of the shop I noticed I still had time on the meter so I popped into Walgreens and bought a bunch of pens and post-it notes.

Then I had a moment.

A perspective change.

What if the only reason, really, was that I was downtown to see how far I had come.

From being a scared, coke head, struggling waitress–yes it was fancy, but so too was my habit–trying to figure out how to use and make rent in San Francisco.

To being a successful graduate school student–I got back my first grade from last semester–A–riding her own scooter (paid in full in cash) who had just gotten back from an amazing week in Paris with a dear friend, who has an awesome in-law in the city, with rent paid in full and a week early (thank you very much I want to stay in my sweet little in-law), with a good paying job (one that I will have my raise go into affect on January 1st) with children I love.

What if that was the only reason?

It was enough.

It was an amazing little piece of insight.

I took it with me to see my person.

I also got a manicure, because, hello, I can.

We had a lovely lunch where the was much hot soup and hot tea and yes, some hot mess tears, but so much growth, love, and perspective for myself.

“You see the lows, you see the challenges, but you need to acknowledge the good stuff too,” he said peering at me to make sure I understood.

“I suggest you write some of that down tonight when you take stock on what your year has been like.”

Well, when it’s put like that.

Best break up ever, kindest, gentlest, tears on both sides, and hugs.  Yeah, I still had to do a lot of work and I cried my head off, but I also did an immense amount of writing and grew so much and threw myself into what was next.

I also applied to graduate school.

I got into graduate school.

I won a scholarship for $30,000 to go to said graduate school program.

I met and made amazing new friends.

I was flown to LA first class to visit the MOMA and ogle art for a weekend.

I went to Atlanta and ran into old friends and made a lot of new ones.

I went to Burning Man for my 9th year in a row.

I dyed my hair pink, a couple of times, and got awesome new glasses.

I bought a brand new scooter all in cash.

I wrote a lot of poetry–some of which I got paid for!  Making it my second time receiving $1,000 for a series of poems (the first was for a manuscript award I got in undergrad).

I went to Paris.

I mean.

Come on.

For a week and saw friends and places and things from before and also did things that I had not done before (the Jeu de Paume, the Roue de Paris), and bought lots of notebooks and got an awesome tattoo, and ate nice food, and walked everywhere, and practiced my French, and got lost and got found.

I got a raise at work, a great year end review, and an extension on my nanny contract for another six months.

And best and most important.

I stayed sober.

Nothing was more important or significant than that.

So.

When folks ask if I have a resolution.

If I have a wish.

If there is something in my “bucket list” that I need to do.

It’s just that.

Stay sober.

And what ever happens.

I will be ok.

And it will be lovely.

Like the dinner tonight with new friends and old, a sweet cat rubbing her face on my hand, the laughter until crying, the warmth and good food.

The simple things.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

I can’t think of a better start to 2016.

Happy New Year!

See You In An Hour

June 20, 2015

What a nice surprise.

I wasn’t expecting to have a date tonight, but things change.

“That was not the plan,” I told my friend tonight outside on the curb across the street from the Safeway in the Castro, “not the plan at all,” then I appropriately blushed.  Thank God it was already dark outside and it could just as well have been the red neon light from the Burger Joint then my face flushing.

He laughed, “nothing ever goes as planned.”

This is true.

I have had a few changes in my schedule, small ones, these last few days and watching how that has happened and the way it has shaped me day is interesting.

Typically, yeah, I know, it’s a Friday, but typically on a Friday, I would be making a cup of tea.

Check.

The teapot is just about to boil.

And writing my blog.

Double check.

Writing the blog.

But I would not be going out further.

When I am writing the blog it is usually indicative of the day being finished and the only thing that I am going to do after I put “pen to paper” is watch a download on my laptop.

I don’t know when tonight will end as the last time I hung out with the man, we were up talking until 5:15 a.m.

Thank God I don’t work tomorrow.

In fact.

My entire day opened up, I have, wait for it, nothing planned.

NOTHING.

I mean I will find an hour to do that thing that I do every day, but since I’m not working and not meeting with the people I usually meet with, I can be flexible with that.

I can go anywhere.

I can do anything.

Tomorrow is a big white clean slate.

In fact.

As of 11:15 pm tonight I have a bunch of big clean open space and time.

That is exciting.

Not nerve-wracking.

I’m wide open to the possibilities, however they present themselves.

I am excited for my life.

I mean, I am excited a lot, all the time.

“Did I read your blog right?”

A friend texted me this afternoon.

“Did you get a full scholarship to grad school?!

Yup.

I did.

And if that’s not exciting enough, I have a date for a Friday night too.

Not bad, Martines, not bad at all.

Pretty fucking awesome, because I have a date with someone I really like and it’s not a blind date with some yahoo off a dating website.

I have not checked Match.com or OkStupid since the night he asked me out.

“You mean, when you asked me out,” he’s teased me a few times.

Sure.

That night.

I don’t care, I don’t have to be right, I can just be happy.

I didn’t ask him out, he asked me (see, I can’t do it!!) but I will acquiesce that position any time) I would rather be happy with him than right.

Being right never makes me happy.

Small or big things.

Being right just makes me an uptight asshole afraid that if someone else is right that there is something wrong with me.

Nothing is wrong here.

Nothing at all.

It’s Friday.

After all.

That in and of itself is a happy thing.

Today was a happy day too.

The boys were a bit wound up when I got to work, there is much excitement for the weekend, the family is leaving for Sonoma tomorrow, Glen Ellen to be exact, for the next ten days.

I will be going there Sunday evening.

I’m not working until Monday, but I figure I’ll grab the rental car from the airport and head up early Sunday evening so that I am settled in and ready to start Monday morning rather than drive up super early on Monday and be off kilter the whole day.

I am not as anxious about spending the week with the family as I thought I would be.

Of course.

My mind has been preoccupied with other things.

Heh.

Oh, that does remind me, I need to buy a swim suit before I head up to Sonoma, the one I have is more of a lounge by the pool suit than a swim laps suit and I suspect I will be in the pool a lot over the week with the boys.

Plus, I may do some lap swimming on my own.

I won’t be riding my bicycle for a week and that means I need to find something else to do for my exercise.

I use my bicycle for transportation, not really for exercise, but it kills two birds with one stone and I need to exercise, I get wonky in the brain if I don’t.

I will foresee swimming laps and long hikes.

That should keep the brain chemistry balanced.

I will also be checking out the fellowship in Sonoma, I haven’t really done so before, I’m curious to see what is there.  I won’t be coming into the city for my regular routine at all.  I’ll be in Sonoma until I fly out to LA on Friday.

I got the thumbs up from the employers to get off a little early on Friday, I’ll zoom the car back to the airport and hop a plane and be heading down the coast.

I googled the LACMA last night.

I can’t wait.

Another museum to add to my list (The Louvre, Musee D’Orsay,  Musee de l’Orangerie, The Dali Museum, Musee de Quai Branly, Musee Carnvalet, Musee Rodin, Centres Georges Pompidou, National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo Palaise, Le Petite Palais, Musee Marmottan Monet, Guimet Museum, Maison de Victor Hugo, I’ve been to a few museums in Paris, heh, The MOMA in San Francisco, The Legion of Honor, the DeYoung, The Cartoon Museum, The Museum of Jewish Diaspora, Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, the Metropolitan Museum in New York, National Gallery London, Palazzo delle Esposizioni in Rome and the Davinci Museum, then the old standby’s The Wisconsin Historical Museum, The Milwaukee Art Museum, and The Art Institute of Chicago.  Oh, and the Anchorage Museum when I was up in Anchorage in December taking a break from sitting bed side while my dad was in a coma–God I needed that break.

I am probably forgetting one or two or three, but obviously, I have a special thing for museums.

For art.

“I’m not a Burner,” he said, “I’m probably not ever going to go.”

And that’s ok.

Burning Man is a museum for me too–all the art, that’s what I go for, that and the community that has grown up around me there.  I have made some amazing friends there and have had my heart lit on fire by the art.

I’m ready for the LACMA and maybe the Getty.

I’m ready for more happy.

But then again, I always am ready for more.

More experiences.

More life.

More love.

Bring on the weekend.

I am ready.


%d bloggers like this: