I Found A Place!!!!

I sign the lease tomorrow.

I am over the fucking moon.

Especially after the craziness of seeing all the open houses yesterday.

It was not  the place I put in an application in on yesterday, although I might still be offered the spot (I was told they would be making the decision by Thursday) and if I do I will be turning it down because I have found the best place for me and I will sign the lease on it tomorrow and holy shit did it just all fall into place.

I am just amazed at how nicely it all came together.

In fact.

It feels a little like a dream.

The only real draw back is that there is not laundry on site.

But whatever.

I have a car, I can drive to a laundry mat a few blocks away and take care of it.  I can use the time to study anyhow.

That’s the only draw back.

My commute will be the same, though I’m a tiny bit further away I will be commuting on roads that go around town rather than through town.

But whatever.

I’ll be commuting along the Great Highway, I will be getting to see the ocean every day on my way to work, not a horrible commute at all.

I just Google mapped it and it told me 21 minutes.

My commute from where I live now is 20 minutes.

So.

Really my commute is pretty much the same, I will leave home a half hour before work.

Home.

Oh I like the way that sounds.

I had no idea that I would be writing this when I woke up this morning.

I woke up and immediately looked for an e-mail regarding the place I emailed about last night.

I had seen it and I saw myself in the space.

So much so that I was actually looking at furniture to buy for the studio.

I mean.

I could just tell it was meant for me.

I was completely transparent in my inquiry.

I wrote about the buyout, I said how much money I make, what I do for a profession, that I had a large student loan disbursement, that I was clean and sober and a non-smoker with no pets and a full-time job and a PhD program and that I was an AMFT and starting up a private practice.

I mean.

I just laid it out.

So when I got up and didn’t see an e-mail back I was sad.

I mean, you should’ve seen the couch I had all lined up for this place.

But.

I went about my day and showered and did my morning routine and had a nice breakfast and did a bunch of writing and talked myself off the ledge, I had anxiety about starting in on my homework for school, and decided that maybe I should take a break today from looking at places on Craigslist.

This after I had placed a call to another apartment and left a message about wanting a viewing.

I even got pro-active and downloaded the application material, printed off my credit score, my bank statement, scanned my driver’s license and printed it off.

I thought, fuck it, just fill it out and have all the stuff ready.

Then I did some grocery shopping and when I was putting away my groceries I got the text.

I got the text!

They wanted me to come over today and see the studio.

We set a time and I was there at 1:15p.m. on the nose to see the place.

It’s perfect.

Lots and lots and lots of light.

Oh glorious light.

Seven, count them, seven windows!

Plus a sliding glass door out to the back, which may as well make it nine windows.

Everything was brand new.

Brand new hard wood floors, a beautiful dark walnut stain.

Brand new stove, a full size stove and full size gas oven, oh the cooking I will do!

A brand new stainless steel refrigerator.

I can’t tell you how exiting that is.

The fridge in my unit now is old and grumpy and makes funny gurgling sounds all the time and about six months ago it started to sound like a helicopter taking off.

Not all the time, thank god, but once or twice  every other day or so it will just start rattling and shaking and it’s not a fun sound.

I’m used to it, but man, it will be nice to not have so much noise.

The bathroom was renovated too and had these cute black and white tiles, fresh white paint, ok, so it doesn’t have a bathtub, but fuck, I’ve not had one in five years, why start now?

The walls had fresh paint.

It was just spotless and beautiful.

I wanted it.

I was leery about the no laundry, but when I stepped out the sliding glass doors I was sold.

I haven’t told you about the best part.

I have a deck.

I have a motherfucking deck!

I have a brand new, completely remodeled deck!

That is not shared with the owners of the house, who live upstairs.

Yes.

I am in another in-law, but the ceiling is higher, and they have sound proofed it, and, and, and,  and I have my own deck–the owners have no access to it at all, it’s completely mine to use.

It is huge.

I mean it is amazing, maybe 250 feet?  Maybe three hundred.

I can have a couple of Adirondack chairs, a table, a hammock.

A hammock!!

I can sit and read outside in the sun.

The sun finally came out today and it was gorgeous and standing on that deck, twelve feet above the back yard with the sound of the ocean greeting me, I was so happy.

I knew it was home.

I mean, I told you I knew it was home last night when I saw it and started furniture shopping for it.

I told the woman who was showing the place to me that I wanted it and when she told me that three other people had already applied and gone through a screener (which is a credit check and a back ground check combined) I knew I had to get proactive.

So I told her that I was willing to pay the damage deposit and six months of rent in advance to secure the place.

Her eyes got very big.

She was very happy to hear that.

I told her, here, take all this paperwork I had filled out for the other place and show it to your husband, I’m in.

I also said since I’m an AMFT I had no problem getting a background check I had one done when I applied for my license, I have been fingerprinted and the BBS did a full FBI background check on me.

I am so not worried.

I thanked her and smiled and said I really felt good about the place and looked forward to hearing back from them.

And then I went and did a bunch of homework.

Her husband got back to me this evening, said he thought I was a good fit and sent me the screener, and told me as soon as I was cleared we could move forward and sign the lease.   I did the screener immediately, passed with flying colars and tomorrow after work and seeing my clients I will drive over and sign the lease and put my money down.

I have a home!

Whoa.

OH MY GOD.

I have to start packing!

And go get that couch.

Hooray!

 

Shaky Hands

I actually had some nerves today.

Oh.

I suppose, I have a touch of anxiety all the time, but I do manage it for the most part decently, but today, I noticed, shit, my hands are actually trembling.

Big.

Deep.

Breath.

Everything is ok

And of course it was.

Everything was fabulous, but I was still nervous.

I was putting together all the pieces for my BBS application for my AMFT#.

This number which will prove to the therapy world in general that I actually graduated from an accredited university with a program that fulfills all the BBS requirements for eventual licensure.

Graduated with a 4.0 to boot.

Not that I think any of my clients are every going to ask what my GPA is, none have so far.

I certainly didn’t think about asking my therapist that, didn’t cross my mind.

Didn’t really need to.

I know she’s licensed and she was transparent with me and let me know that she had gone to CIIS as well, which was so helpful, has continued to be helpful, and she has become such a resource for me.

She was an advocate for me going after a private practice internship and she told me point-blank that she would refer clients to me.

That’s probably a better recommendation for a client to know than my GPA.

Granted.

I am damn proud of it, I worked my ass off to get through his program and I got through.

And sitting at my table watching the YouTube instructional video on how to fill out my BBS application really brought it all together.

How much work to get to this point.

Filling out this huge application.

Getting LiveScan fingerprinting, which basically goes to the DOJ and the FBI and then to the BBS to find out if I have anything wonky on my record, which, of course I don’t.

I mean.

I have been background checked for two different nanny jobs, plus my school’s program requires it before I am allowed to go into practicum, as I would be seeing clients, so I knew nothing was going to come up.

But the DOJ and the FBI?

Wowzers.

Next to the stack of application were my two envelopes stamped “Do Not Open” in bright red block letters, from my school.

One envelope held my transcripts.

The other envelope held the program requirements and verified that my program met all BBS requirements, like that I took Child/Elder/Spousal Abuse, or Psychopharmacology, and of course the big guy, the class on the DSM V.

Attached to the application was also my passport photo that I got at the Walgreens in the Castro last Saturday.

“You’re really pretty,” the young woman said who took my photo.

Thanks sugar, I was busy scrutinizing the furrowed lines in my brow and wondering if they had come about from all the reading that I had done over the last three years.

Then.

Another check, this time made out to the Behavioral Sciences Fund.

I don’t have a clue what that funds, but hey, here’s some money.

Now please.

Process my application and get my number to be ASAP!

Please and thank you.

And when I was in group supervision today I found out that the turn around time on the AMFT# is far quicker than I had thought.

I was told I would probably get my number in a month!

Holy cats.

So.

I let said cat out of the bag and told my supervision group that I had obtained a private practice internship and I would be leaving them for her.

It was really nice to receive the congratulations and the acknowledgement of the work that I have done and also that I was super lucky, one of the members in my group has done work with my soon to be supervisor and we both gushed about her.

It was good timing to, for me, to find this out, because it started me in the mode of what I will do next to wrap up with my clients.

I will begin telling them soon, giving them all the opportunity to find closure with me and also that I will be available to them if they want to continue working with me.

It feels super great too that any clients that opt to come with me will be able to continue to go to the same facility.

I won’t be moving at all.

I will just be in a different office, instead of in a different office every night.

So.

Yes.

I noticed the shaky hands and I told myself it was ok, that I was doing great, that I had it all filled out correctly and if I had somehow fucked it up that would be ok too.

But I don’t think that I did.

I am pretty damn sure I crossed all my t’s and dotted all the i’s.

I headed to the mid Sunset and dropped it all into a fat envelope and spent the extra money, as the YouTube video insisted that I do, for tracking and I sent it certified mail so that it is signed for and I will now when they receive it.

I was told they would get it by Monday!

Holy crap.

So.

Sometime in July, fingers crossed, I shall get my AMFT# and I will be able to make the transition to the other internship.

An internship that I am very ready for.

I also called CAMFT and talked to a person there about what my supervisor and I need to do to set up the private practice internship.

I was given really good suggestions and directed to an article on the topic.

I will be reading that soon.

I have a “next steps” meeting with my new supervisor July 11.

I can’t wait.

I don’t know if I will have my number in hand.

But I know I will have it awfully soon.

And hopefully I will have a steady hand when I open the envelope from the BBS.

Fuck.

Who cares.

I certainly won’t.

But I might whoop with glee.

I have done that a few times today.

It feels so good to take positive actions.

So.

So.

So.

Good.

First Day

No tears.

Since Saturday and the bomb drop.

I also took a few actions today that helped with that.

I became a member of the San Francisco Tenant’s Union.

$35 for a year-long membership.

I think it will come quite in handy.

I plan on getting up early and going to do drop in counseling regarding my landlady asking me to move out 90 days from tomorrow on Saturday.

I also placed a phone call with the Union, of course I did not get a live person, but as a member I was allowed to place a call and get a call back, which I think is very cool.  The Union will not take phone calls from non-members.

I left a succinct message regarding the situation, that I was planning on coming in on Saturday, that I had done a good bit of reading of the handbook and that I wanted to know if there was anything that my counselor would need when I came in.

I quickly asserted that I had no lease, that the landlady had given me a verbal notice to quit the in-law, and that I had been living here for five years paying rent on a monthly basis, $1200 a month plus utilities for the first three years and $1250 plus utilities for the last two.

I didn’t get a call back today and from the information on the message I may not get a call back before I head in on Saturday.

But.

It felt good to take a small action.

I also put it in my God box.

I wrote a note, I said some prayers, I asked God to take care of it and show me where I’m supposed to live next.

I also did my morning readings and prayer and that always, I mean always helps.

Especially when one of the readings was talking about principles before personalities and I realized how applicable that was to my situation.

I don’t like my landlady’s personality and I have found myself wanting to ruminate about that when it really has nothing to do with my situation, who she is as a person is none of my business.

How she treats me as a tenant is and I am not in agreement with what she asked of me to do.

I am in fear, I won’t lie, that it’s going to get uncomfortable to live here if I find out that I have rights that are due me and when I request for them to be honored I suspect that there will be push back.

But.

Until that happens I am trying pretty damn hard to stay out of that crazy making in my head.

I have already decided that she will tell me I’m not allowed to use the washer and dryer in the garage and that she’s going to want me to get anything I have in storage in her garage out.

My bicycle, my Burning Man bins, my tents.

I also suspect she will ask me to park my scooter on the street instead of next to the house.

But.

Again.

Those things haven’t happened and are not happening right now.

They may.

And if they do I will handle them at that time, worrying about what happens in the future doesn’t actually prepare me for what’s going to happen and so often my experience has been that much of what I’m afraid of doesn’t come to pass.

Thus attempting to stay present and stay in the moment where there really is nothing wrong.

My rent is paid for this upcoming month and I have time to find out what my options are and I have time to look for a new place to live.

Because no matter what comes of the Tenant Union drop in counseling, moving is on the table, on my plate, is going to happen.

It just is a matter of how it happens and when and if I get any sort of compensation to more.

Even if I find out I don’t have to move and I suspect that may very well be an option, I just feel like the landlady will make it hell to live here and I’m not much interested in that.

I feel like the best case scenario is I get some money to help facilitate the move and I am able to make a jump to a bigger and better place.

I have been seriously considering the option of getting a three bedroom house in the Outer Sunset.

I have been doing some Craigslist research and there are some very doable options out here.

I have seen a few other homes that might work in the Richmond neighborhood and one or two elsewhere, one in the SOMA which is a no go, I don’t want to have to worry about street parking and a few in Portola, one in Glenn Park, some in the Outer Mission/Excelsior.

But the Outer Sunset seems to have the biggest amount of choices and I am really liking the idea of having a house.

Granted I don’t have the furnishings for a house, but I believe they will come.

If I can get another couple of folks together I could easily snag a place that’s big, sunny, has parking, maybe even a garage, washer and dryer on site and/or hookups for them.

A few places also have fireplaces and yards.

I mean.

That sounds fucking terrific to me.

Two of the houses I really liked also have Master bedrooms with their own baths.

I could be the Master tenant, pay a little more, have a big room, my own bathroom and then full access to the rest of the house.

It’s beginning to sound more and more feasible to me.

And exciting.

I’m not exactly looking forward to the uncomfortable conversations I feel are  going to occur, but then again, I am feeling very positive that I am heading into a much better housing situation than I currently have.

And for that.

Well.

I am fucking grateful as hell.

One More Thing

Gotten.

I picked up my third practicum review from the supervisor at my site.

All fives, the best one could score, and two “fours.”

To tell you the truth I wasn’t expecting anything less.

My supervisor has pretty much given me the same score from the beginning.

I’ve not had any interactions with him, he’s not discussed my progress, and this time I had even fewer notes about my abilities than before.

It’s not a problem.

And it is.

I’m not getting the kind of training I feel that I need to really become the kind of therapist I want to be.

I am a good therapist.

I can say that without qualms and I will become better with the more clients I see and the more experience I get.

But.

I’m not being trained at this site, there’s really no theory being used except take what you like and leave the rest, which is good, up until a point.

I was talking with my therapist about this today and what it was like to work with my other supervisor who was amazing and taught me so much that I am still in awe of the experience and I realize, already missing him.

He was hard to show up for because I had expectations about myself and wanted to show him that I was capable and smart and good.

He got all that and he reflected back honestly where I needed work, where I needed boundaries, where I was doing well, where I could grow and how I could do that.

My current supervisor does not do that and I had the feeling today when I picked up my evaluation that I won’t be there all that much longer.

Oh.

For a little while yet.

Or maybe with fewer clients.

I just sense that I need to be getting more and I’m going with that gut feeling and I’m going to start actively looking for a private practice internship.

There are somethings I need to do, get on the list serve at CIIS and look for supervisors taking on interns.

Reach out to people I am interested in working with.

The professor I reached out to last night got back to me and let me know that she was not taking any interns at the moment, but were she I would be at the top of her list.

She also said that she would forward my name on as an intern to any supervisors she thought would be a good fit.

She encouraged me to look into private practice internship and gave me the impression that I was indeed on the right track doing so.

My therapist said the same thing, she felt that it wold best serve me and gave me some resources.

I am excited.

I am in a place of transition and I am completely ok with the clients I have now and the schedule I have, but I realize I could be better served, learn more and have better guidance elsewhere.

I am so grateful for my practicum site for all the flexibility it has and for the wide range of clients I have gotten to see, the diversity of cases has been awesome.

I also appreciate that I don’t have to do a lot of paper work, that’s been pretty big, I just am recognizing that there is more and that I feel confident at this point exploring my options when I am well situated where I am.

I don’t have to leave, I can explore and take my time and find a good fit.

I just need to look about and ask questions and see who may be available.

I have two other former professors I would love to work with and I think  I will reach out to both of them.

There.

Just reached out to one.

Excuse me while I draft another quick e-mail to the other.

And done.

That felt good.

Very proactive.

And that’s what I have to do.

Take little actions and see what happens.

What my therapist remarked on today is that I don’t sound anxious.

And I’m not!

I’m excited.

I feel like I am moving forward in a positive way and although I don’t know the exact direction I’m going or what door to go through next, I feel like things are unfolding.

And really.

All I have to focus on is what I need to do next to get all my paperwork into school.

This Saturday I will have my group supervisor sign my paperwork.

I will be taking all those signatures and the evaluation to school with me the next weekend of classes.

I will hand them over and find out what I have to do next.

I will need to get my therapist to sign off on my year of therapy, which we discussed today as well, and she’s all set to go.

In fact, now that I think of it, I might as well bring that paperwork into our next session.

Then I can have the last evaluation, the signed forms from each supervisor, and my therapy sessions covered and done.

I’m sure there’s some little bit of paperwork that will still need to get sussed out, but I feel very confident that it will.

Very confident.

 

Doing This Thing

I have officially made the decision to go after my PhD in the Transformative Psychology program at CIIS.

I talked to the dean of the school this morning and she gave me some lovely insights into the program and what I need to do to apply for the program.

I basically have it all covered except for the personal statement.

I need two letters of recommendation, one of which has to come from my academic advisor in my program–he’s confirmed that he will write me a letter and we are meeting at lunch on the first Friday of the school weekend, basically a week from this Friday.

The other letter will come from my supervisor at my practicum site, who actually offered to write me a letter before I had asked him.

I need to e-mail him and say, yes, please do write that letter for me!

In fact.

Hang on a minute, I’m going to go draft that e-mail now.

Yes.

One more thing out-of-the-way.

I was also very grateful to discover that I had been correct in the reading of the PhD application demands–the scholarly paper the admissions department requires can be one I have already written for my current program!

That is super nice.

It’s an 8-10 page paper written in APA format (American Psychological Association).

The dean expressed that they want to see an example of my writing abilities and that I could absolutely use a paper I had already written, it did not have to be an original work.

Whew.

That is such a nice relief.

I really didn’t want to have to write a paper on top of getting my stuff together for this last semester of my Master’s program.

I’ll still need to provide plenty of other things besides the sample of my academic writing and the two letters of recommendation.

There’s also the application fee, $65, so worth it, frankly.

And a resume with pertinent and relevant experience listed.

My transcripts.

I will be very happy to provide those, especially with my current 4.0 grade point average, thank you very much.

A goal statement outlining what I plan to do with the degree once it is conferred.

And.

A four to five-page personal statement.

I mean, that’s a fair good amount of stuff.

But.

Doable.

So doable.

And, as I mentioned, the not having to write a fresh academic paper for the admissions team feels really nice.

The dean told me the deadline was end of February.

Once the application is sent in the admissions team goes through the applicants and decides who they want to call in for an interview.

At which time I would need to give some ideas about what I want to pursue, although said ideas do not have to be concrete, I can change what I decide to do the dissertation on if over the course of the program I find something really amazing and compelling.

But.

I do think I have been narrowing it down and although my idea is big and there’s a lot to explore, I’m super excited by the prospect of exploring it.

I feel like it will help me heal some trauma and in turn, I hope that I will be better equipped to help others walk through their traumas as well.

I’m super happy that I have made this decision.

I felt so freaking good when I got off the phone with the dean, I knew, I just knew it is what I am supposed to be doing.

I’m supposed to get my doctorate.

I am supposed to be of service.

I get to keep learning and growing.

It is fucking exciting.

A little scary too, but I don’t feel it will be that much harder than the work that I have done to get my Masters.

In fact, in some ways I think it will be easier.

The classes are self-directed and timed, I won’t be going into a classroom, I’ll be doing the work on my own, I’ll have my own agency to move at my own pace.

I suspect that I will want to move faster rather than slower.

The dissertation could take longer, the program is designed to be done in two years, but I sense that more than a few folks take longer to get to the dissertation.

I don’t want to do that.

Not to be worried about at this point.

I have taken as much action today as I possibly could in regards to the next steps.

I went to therapy this morning before work.

I went grocery shopping after therapy and managed to have the call with the dean of students from my car before I went into work.

I worked a full day.

Then.

I went and saw two clients this evening.

I e-mailed my supervisor at my practicum site for the letter of recommendation.

And.

I filled in a few more things on the doctoral application.

My god.

I’m really going to do this.

I am going to get my PhD.

Fuck.

My life is amazing.

AMAZING.

And Then There Was Hail

Holy shit was there hail today.

It hailed at least three, four times today.

Hard.

The first was this morning writing and drinking a nice coconut/almond milk latte and thinking about my week and trying to not freak out about school and practicum and stuff.

Trying being the operative word.

What if I sent in a fucked up resume?

Why would he want me?

I don’t want to deal with it anymore.

And I’ve only begun to deal with it.

Then the hail.

Rather jolted me from my place of anxiety.

Oh yeah.

There is only so much I can do today and the most important is to get to work on time and yes, I’ll be taking a car please and thank you.

I took a few deep breaths and yes, I know there is plenty to do, but in that moment, this morning, I had done all I could and it was time to leave.

Slip into the new rain boots.

And really I am astounded at myself for not getting them sooner.

“Your feet are big!” My employer exclaimed.

And I laughed.

Yes, they are big, especially in comparison to her tiny tootsies, but I wasn’t offended in the least, I think that’s a big part of why I never got rain boot before, they make my feet look astoundingly huge.

But who cares?

My God, they keep my feet warm and dry.

And they give me an excuse to pull out all of my tall socks that I normally don’t wear except when I’m in boots at Burning Man.

I have been happily pillaging my sock drawer for the last few days.

I am almost sad to see the rain go.

Almost.

I am hella happy that I will be back on my scooter tomorrow.

It just guts my commute time.

I am very ready for that.

Plus.

It’s cheaper.

I mean, even cheaper than MUNI.

I pay less in gas that lasts me days then for one ride on the trains.

Granted I am grateful for those trains.

I rode one home tonight after dinner with a friend who was celebrating a birthday.

It was a surprise being able to make it, but I am glad I did.

It was good to catch up and have company and talk and hang out.

I am trying my best to say yes when people want to spend time with me.

I went out to tea yesterday.

I went out to dinner today.

Not too shabby.

I did the deal and had a great time there too.

Sometimes everything that I hear is everything that I need to hear.

It was good.

So good.

Everything today was good.

Even getting caught outside with my two charges and getting caught in a horrendous down pour and hail drop.

Thank God we were huddle under a couple of the big palm trees by Mission Dolores High School, the trees gave a bit of shelter and we all were in rain boots and jackets and I had my umbrella, but there was nowhere to go, it was stay put, huddle up and keep the wee ones close.

The crazy hail stopped and we dashed to Dolores Park Café.

Animal crackers and mini pizza for them.

A big café au lait for me.

And a sweet message from the mom and dad, “where are you, we’re coming to pick you up.”

So nice.

We did some puddle stomping before we got picked up.

Nothing says good times like stomping puddles with little ones in rain boots.

Stupid fun.

We got back and played with robots and stuffed dogs and chatted and I am happy to say that I am super glad that I am working this job.

I feel appreciated and though the kids occasionally have a hard time, Monday’s are traditionally hard anyway, by the end of the day we were best pals again.

The dad and I took pictures off the back porch of the rainbow, double rainbows, that happened after one of the hails storms.

The mom and I rescued a hummingbird that had bashed into the sliding glass door of the patio.

The six and a half-year old gave me the “huggies” because he missed me.

The four and a half-year old vehemently defended me to her play time fancies when her brother tried to ensorcell me to the Legos.

It was a good day at work.

It was a good day for easy does it and letting me be enough.

I tried to explain to my friend how it was that it had taken 14 years of rainy season before I got rain boots and it really comes down to that, “I’m not enough, I’m not worthy, rain boots are an extravagance.”

And the truth is that nothing that brings me happiness and warmth is an extravagance.

I mean.

Maybe if I got like fur-lined rain boots, but no, the things that I deny myself sometimes because of that unconscious belief that I am just not allowed for not being enough.

It’s good to see it.

It’s even better to have accepted it.

It’s there, it’s a part of my make up.

And.

The best thing is that with that acceptance I was and am able to now take actions that help me see just how enough I actually am.

I am plenty enough.

There will be times when I forget this, but having accepted that it is a basic part of my make up I can take action to alleviate the symptoms of martyrdom when it trips me up.

Nobody is going to be affected by my lack of rain boots.

Except me.

I won’t be going without again.

It’s too lovely to have dry feet.

And I am allowed that.

Probably.

Most certainly.

A whole lot more.

But for today I will be happy that my boots kept me dry in the crazy last gasp of this winter storm.

Tomorrow there is the sun.

I am ready for it.

And I’m sure my rain boots won’t mind a break.

Shit.

I live in San Francisco.

They will see action again.

Serious action.

I am sure of it.

 

Wound Up

Just a little bit.

Just probably because it’s Friday.

Another school night.

No going out tonight.

But I’m feeling it.

Friday night.

I had class today and saw my best girls today and connected and reconnected with them.

I told them what was going on in my life and it felt really good to say all the things and talk about it and have good perspective from them.

Especially my darling French friend.

“You see, this is why I don’t read your blog!” She exclaimed as we sat and shared over lunch.

I cried a few times.

Frustration.

It is real.

But.

I also felt seen and loved.

“No, Carmen, there’s no figuring it out and you don’t need to change, you are perfect, maybe it really is just San Francisco,” she added, “maybe it is just timing.”

I know that.

But you see.

I fell into an unavailable man-hole and it ate me alive for a few days.

There’s still imprints of it all over me and I’m ok with it now that I have had some time to do some writing and some talking and some sharing.

So unavailable.

So sexy.

So can’t even begin to make it work.

I could give a laundry list of reasons.

But to sum up.

Married.

And.

Oh.

Doesn’t live in San Francisco.

Fantastic!

Fuck me.

“I’m not concerned with that,” he told me, when I finally, tearfully, called my person earlier this week, letting the cat out of the bag, and said, hey, um, I need to talk to you about something.

“I’m more concerned with the married part,” he said, “and that’s the part you get to focus on.”

Yes.

The being attracted to someone who I cannot be with, that part.

Oh, like I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.

Fuck me.

“He has bright eyes,” she said as I showed her the photograph, “there is something very compelling there, he is handsome.”

Yes, yes he does…

Yes, yes, he is.

And he sees me in a way that is so flattering, so seductive, so unbelievable that it makes me feel like, woman hear me roar.

Except.

He’s married and doesn’t live in San Francisco.

I keep going back to that.

It doesn’t matter that there’s the sexy connection, it doesn’t matter.

In the end I can only fantasize and well, that doesn’t serve me.

I want flesh and blood.

I want sweat and hand holding.

I want a person I can hold on to and who can hold onto me.

I want.

I want.

I want what I want when I want it and I want it now.

“Now” is never going to happen.

And I also deserve to have it.

The huge love, the thunderous applause of blood in my face, the arch of light in my eyes, the smothering of kisses on my face.

I want it all.

And so.

I shut it down.

I shut it down hard.

There was no consummation, FYI, not that it’s any of your business anyway, but there was enough there to know that it could happen if we were in the right place at the right time and the right moment.

Except.

Well.

Er.

Fuck.

I also have a living amends to not have sex with married men.

So, um yeah.

It didn’t happen.

And it’s.

Not going to happen.

So stop the fantasy, stop the playing out all the possible solutions in your head, stop trying to figure it out.

“You know, your blog is only a sliver of you too,” she added, leaning in, “in France this is not such a big deal.”

“Oh, I hear you and it’s not that, really so much,” I said in response to a question she had regarding the nature of the relationship, “it really is the married and lives in another town problem.”

And.

Also, “he’s put you on a pedestal,” she said, “but yeah, it is so good for the ego, so sexy.”

So good.

I mean.

Fuck.

It’s really nice to be seen.

Even if I’m not seen fully, here in my messy end of the day braids and helmet hair, my silliness as I dance around the room, in my sadness, in my humanity.

Nope.

I’m not fully seen.

But the intoxication of being even just a little seen.

Well, that is thrilling.

And.

Ha.

Intoxicating.

But, yes, ultimately, it’s a dead-end street for me.

I am grateful for the experience, wild with the gratitude, the gifts of perspective and how fast it happened, the flirtation arose, it was, well, flirted with, then I got to put a stop to it.

And get to really is the gift.

It was hard.

But with some support I did it and now I get to move on, into the light of whatever new day, new date, new man is out there waiting for me.

The deck is cleared.

“No, it is not dating for you that I want,” she said and paused.

“I want for you the grand passion, the coup de foudre, la grand amoureuse.”

Yes.

Thank you.

My darling friend for saying it.

I want that too.

And though I did feel struck by lightning when it all came out, it was lightening in the distance.

The rumble of a storm brewing, a passion to end all passions.

But on the other side of the world.

And I am here.

Now.

In this moment.

In San Francisco.

In my little studio down by the sea.

Ready.

Available.

Not trying to fix or change or be someone or something other than who I am.

Maybe it is San Francisco.

Maybe it is that I have had a habit of being attracted to men who aren’t available or attracted to me.

Although this was not the case, the man is attracted, oh my.

OH MY.

And attractive.

But again.

Not here.

Not available.

Ultimately.

Not for me.

I also think, or have been thinking that though I have had opportunities, I have also sabotaged and defended myself from possible, or probable hurt, I have been hurt, I don’t want to be hurt again, but I can withstand the pain of being hurt in a way that I didn’t believe or know that I could.

Safety is not the issue anymore.

I am settled in my skin.

I have done the work, and though of course, there is more work to do.

I am capable of being present and available.

And.

I am so excited to see what happens next.

It’s going to be amazing.

I have faith.

It really.

Is going to be.

Amazing.

I feel it.

Seriously.

 

You’re Super Smart

And hot!

I’d date you.

Aw!

Thanks darling, that means a lot.

I responded to a social media post about being out in the dating world as well and that was my response.

That’s really nice to know.

Even if I don’t always believe it.

Habit.

Not a great habit.

But.

Not as bad as the overly confident man on Tinder today who basically went from a semi-flirtatious message to a over heated, over bearing, pushy overtly sexual perverted exploration of my tattoos.

Dude.

Unmatch.

Ugh.

I haven’t had a lot of creeps, but every once in a while I get one and my instinct were right and I shouldn’t have swiped.

I did, he did, there was some messaging, but after a real good gut check.

Nope.

Unmatched and moving on.

Not that I really need to being pursuing a date for this weekend.

God damn I have a lot of stuff going on.

Friday night I may have a touch base date, like a hello in passing, which I am flattered by, he’s the gentleman I met last week at Public Works, he’s an Oakland guy and coming over the bridge for some Detroit house music, which if I wasn’t already engaged I would totally go check out.

But I do have plans and so instead of saying no, I said, hey, if you want, you will probably be a good fit with the friends I’m going to be hanging out with, swing by if you want.

That being said.

I don’t want to make Friday a rager.

Even if the night is looking like that right now.

I have a lot of stuff to do on Saturday.

There is the yoga.

Which I did today and I’m super glad I got up early and made the effort to exercise, I needed to stretch probably just as much as my body could have used the extra hour of sleep.

That being said, if I go out Friday night getting up for a 9 a.m. yoga class is challenging.

Plus.

Meeting my person at noon.

And.

Recording a podcast at 1:30p.m.

I want to make sure that I have good voice for that.

I’m a little nervous, but also excited.

I have been practicing a few of my pieces and the woman I’m recording with said she was just going to ask me a bunch of questions, so just be me.

God.

Who the hell knows what that is going to look like.

But.

Yes.

I am excited.

I also feel like I should be writing some poetry, I haven’t cut a poem in a while, but I have been consistent here with the blog and with my morning pages and as long as I continue here it doesn’t matter so much.

The woman expressed to me that I would also be able to plug anything I’m working on and she would be putting my blog address in the podcast.

I have no idea what to tell her.

I’m not here to advertise or get accolades.

Although those are nice.

It’s just a practice, a letting go, a surrender to the words and whatever my heart needs to process from the day.

Yes.

Miraculous things happen here.

But I can’t sell the magic, it just comes when I am wide open to it.

Sometimes I am so blown open, a dandelion fluff of seed pods blown high into the blue robin’s egg sky.

Sometimes I am closed down and sad, sad, sad, and things get over blown and I feel dramatic and snarky and I want to be mean and then.

When I am.

Fuck.

That sucks.

But.

It comes and goes and flows and I have no idea where it’s going and I have no project on the burner, I have not needs to process or things to promote.

Unless it’s me getting shit together for Burning Man.

Which.

By the way.

Where is my ticket?

I signed for it via the UPS site and it was supposed to be delivered today and no ticket.

Which also reflects my lack of ride, gear, and on and on.

I did, however, get a ride set up for the school retreat that is coming up for me in August.

I got an e-mail from a friend in the cohort asking if I wanted a ride, and yes!  Yes, please and thank you.

So grateful to not have to think about that.

One less thing on my plate of busy.

I also got another e-mail from another friend in the cohort regarding a room request, which was made today and I’m super happy for that.

I’m a little nervous, I had my own room last year.

Just happened, the person assigned to be my room mate pulled out of the program before the retreat and I got lucky.

It was nice to be alone and have a space to come back to, but I am also looking forward to sharing a room with not one, but two of my friends.

The request was for the triple room.

I got another message from a woman in the program also expressing how she missed me and how she was looking forward to seeing me at school.

It’s nice to be thought of.

It’s nice to be missed.

It’s nice to know that I have made some kind of impact on someone’s heart.

No matter how small.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

― Maya Angelou

Yup.

I heard this recently and it so resonated.

Looks are fleeting.

But when you touch someone’s heart, that stays.

I hope that I can be that person, the one who is kind and sweet and loving.

But usually the best I can do is be tolerant.

I do love.

And I love hard.

I do.

I do.

I’m an old school romantic.

It’s part of my blood and I don’t mind.

I got a spiritual solution for your desperate aim.

Love.

God.

Same.

Same.

Sorry.

Not.

Sorry.

And ever more.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

 

Whole Lot of Tired

So tired that I wondered earlier today.

Why the fuck did I buy tickets to that dj show?

But.

I knew that would happen, even when I was buying tickets to the show, whole lot of tired strikes when it does and usually brings up the, what the fuck where you thinking attitude when reviewing things to do later this weekend.

Fact is.

I want to go dancing.

Fact is.

I got invited, I invited some friends, I have three friends going, a possible Tinder connection also going and a whole lot of need to shake my ass and just wash the work week off my body.

I’m a whole lot of tired because I worked extra hours today and didn’t have much interaction with humans other than my employers.

Even less so today than I typically do.

I never got the fuck out of the house.

It just breaks my heart when it’s nice out and I am stuck inside all day long.

I have never had a nanny job like this and sometimes there are things that I don’t exactly disagree with, but they run contrary to my usual get up and go and get the heck outside.

Being outside is one of the huge perks of my job, being in the sun, walking around, stretching my legs, letting my head have space to meander free and clear.

I just didn’t get that today and I haven’t really all this week.

Summer camp scheduling and a strange sort of malaise that the youngest one has had all week have led to me being pretty much tied to the house.

I can’t say I hate it.

I have had moments of deep gratitude for the job, but I’m not used to being this cooped up and on top of that, working the extra hours today to help out on the dad’s birthday really blew me out of the water.

I think I’m going to squeeze in a yoga class tomorrow before work to get me out of the crazy in my head.

I need to exercise is probably the biggest thing.

Even though I am still sore from yesterday’s yoga class, today’s lack of genuine physical activity was uncomfortable.

And should it repeat through the remainder of the week I am really going to need the invigoration of getting my dance on by Friday.

Even if my brain protests.

I have committed to going and like I said, ticket bought.

I’ll be hitting up Public Works on Friday night for some dj action from the Desert Heart Collective.

Gonna get me some deep house and techno.

Yes please.

Ah.

Apparently I just needed a cup of tea and being in my own home to set me right.

That and a couple ibuprofen to ward off the impending headache from being indoors all day.

At least the back patio was in action today, I did sit outside and eat my lunch with the littlest guy al fresco.

Very cute.

So much cute.

Just not enough getting to the park.

At least tomorrow I know I will get outside for the Farmer’s Market.

Plus.

I am going to see the folks at the Farm tomorrow night and that’s always a nice treat.

I have a couple of ladies that I get to connect with, one, the friend that encouraged me to get after asking for the Burning Man ticket, and two, another friend who has gear it looks like I’m going to be able to use.

Reunion!

Book ending my day at work with yoga in the morning and doing the deal at night will make the day go by faster.

And the weekend is getting booked up.

I had a friend reach out today about doing coffee and pretty much had to book it for next weekend.

Although, I will probably have some free time in the eve on Saturday.

I am doing the deal Friday after work, then meeting a lady for tea and reading, then friends for dancing at Public Works.

Saturday I’ll be meeting my person and I have a coffee date at Tart to Tart at 1:15pm.

I’m not feeling the vibe in a big way, but I’m trying to practice.

I figure I’ll hit a late afternoon yoga class and go do the deal somewhere in the evening.

I may leave the night open for flexibility.

See what comes around.

Sunday I have a lady coming over, going to try to do yoga again, and then all the things I need to do to prep for a work week.

Cook, clean, laundry, and maybe something else.

I don’t know.

Tired thinking about it.

But.

Grateful for a full and happy life.

For being busy.

And I’m going to get a nice fat nights sleep and stretch it out in the morning.

I have a big, full, beautiful weekend.

Busy, but not too packed.

Full, but also open to being flexible.

I mean.

I could handle a date Saturday night.

Why not?

I’m supposed to be having fun!

Oh.

And I connected with my Burning Man family, the OG dad, and checked in with him about getting my playa bike.

I still haven’t nailed down a ride there and back, but I figure getting all my things together in one spot is going to be helpful.

I am wondering if I could send up the bike with the friend who offered me a ride.

Hmm.

Something to ponder.

And though I don’t know how I’m getting there and back, I do feel heavy magical feelings around it.

Something is stirring there, I can’t quite see it, but some pot of possibility is stewing.

Open to all suggestions and ideas.

I suppose that means I need to post to the board as well on the Burning Man website.

Another action I can take tomorrow.

It will all come together.

It somehow always does.

Even when I’m ready to fall apart.

With that.

I’m out.

Night all.

Hope some of you got some sunshine in today.

The skies looked so blue.

Impossibly high and bright and blue.

Love, hope, joy, the press of the King Palm tree’s giant fronds into the sky, the soft hand of a small boy’s in mine, the snuggling with stuffed cats, and the bright orange black of a monarch in the sky above.

Beauty in the small quiet moments.

Respite in between the fall of minutes.

The shift of blue to blue to blue.

Against blue.

A swath of love in the gentle wash of sky.

 

 

 

Looking Forward To Seeing

You in Black Rock City!

Welcome home!

But first I need to fleece your wallet.

Fuck me.

$541.10.

Yikes.

But.

Fuck it.

What’s a few bucks?

I would regret it so much if I didn’t go, I’m supposed to be there and there is the off chance I may be given a ticket anyway.

I won’t count on it, that’s a great way to cop a big fat resentment.

But should it happen.

I will sell the one I just bought and use that money to buy myself a nice tent.

That was my compromise to myself when I was looking at the money.

And I have it in savings.

I would have to dip into my prudent reserve, but fuck it.

I am only living once, I want to live it fully.

Besides.

When I think off all the fun that I am going to have.

I mean.

It’s going to be a very different experience for me not working the event.

I mean, what the fuck am I going to do without having something or some kind of job out there define me and my experience?

I might just go to Burning Man for reals.

And although I am not able to go for the full event, I will still be getting four possibly five days of the event to experience.

Which is also more than I have had to experience in years.

Granted I have been up on very long runs, 21, 22, 23 days in a row.

Working always and having very little time off.

Coming back destroyed from the event, exhausted, sick, crazed a little, wondering why I did it again this way.

I’m quite curious to see what it will feel like to be completely autonomous at Burning Man.

To not be on a schedule or tied to camp, to come and go as I please could be really fucking fun.

That’s not to say that I haven’t had fun my other events, I have, I have had a lot of fun, I have also worked my fucking ass off and broken down a few times.

Emotional catharsis is a good thing but it does’t have to be a big burden of the event for me.

I want to go and be free and easy and breezy and light and bright and all things wonderful.

Oh I know.

There’s going to be dust and tiredness and crazy emotional swings, that happens but there is possibility here that I haven’t had before and a kind of joy, such joy, that I get to go.

There a plenty of folks who don’t like the way the event has changed or won’t go anymore or feel like something has been lost, or God, it was better last year, but I don’t feel that way.

I still feel like a kid in a candy shop with a handful of coins ready to buy my hearts desire for a few pennies.

Plus.

So excited to see friends that I really only see when I am out there.

The great big dusty family reunion.

I’ve started taking some actions toward finding a ride.

I did explore the ride board on the event site a little, but I’m hoping to catch a ride within the community of my fellows who are going.

I got one offer, but he was going up days earlier than I and staying all the way through the event.

I suspect I am going to have to get a ride up with one person and get a ride back with another.

Not that many people will be leaving the event Wednesday, and though I don’t want to leave that early, I do have school to be going to and the Mike Doughty concert with my friends Thursday night, and at least the drive out won’t be a grid lock of cars.

I will hopefully get all the dust off me so the audience doesn’t spend it’s time sneezing during the show.

I posted to a couple of camps that I used to camp with and have friends at, but aside from the one offer, nothing more yet.

It will fall into place.

I know it.

And for tonight.

I don’t have to figure it out.

I did the big action, even though I balked for a moment, I took the action, and I bought the ticket and vehicle pass–the taxes and the vehicle pass bumped up the price, the ticket is $390–I’m hoping that I can offer the vehicle pass as incentive to get a ride.

Anyway.

It’s done.

I’m going.

And for the rest of tonight I’ll just be thinking about my outfit for tomorrow night.

I’m going to see Diana Ross!

I got a message asking me if I wanted to go and got me and a plus one and got free tickets and I asked a friend from school and he said yes, so I’ll be heading to the Orpheum Theater tomorrow night after work to see the lovely and supreme Ms. Ross.

I joked with my friend about how big I was going to try and get my hair.

Unfortunately, though, I’ll be arriving via scooter and will have helmet head.

But that won’t stop me from throwing it up in a big messy bun and sticking a bunch of flowers and shiny things in it.

Plus.

Ahem.

My disco platform shoes that I bought in New Orleans?

Oh yes.

Those will be coming out of the closet.

I have to be fabulous.

It’s Diana  Ross for fuck’s sake.

There is not excuse to not be.

In the name of love.

So apt.

So true.

So excited to see my life unfold, big and bright, wild and huge.

A little like Diana’s hair.

Heh.

Luckiest girl in the world.