Posts Tagged ‘actions’

It’s Been A Day

July 4, 2018

It really has.

It was preceded by a night with little sleep.

I had a really hard time falling asleep and I couldn’t stay asleep when I finally did.

I rarely have insomnia, but last night there was a kiss of it.

So much to think about.

And my wild thoughts got me up so early.

Really too early.


I have to say I am surprised that I didn’t feel tired today.

I also had a bit more to do than I thought I was going to.

In between my therapy session and dropping off paperwork to a former supervisor in Hayes Valley, I got a text from my boss asking for a huge favor and could I go help out at the house for a few hours.

I said sure, I went, I let in the cleaners, I hung out and listened to French House music, I did some spending plan for July and I added up my expenses for June.

I got a bit walloped yesterday.

Truth be told.

Unexpected conflict.

Lots of fear.

High amounts of anxiety.

And lots of having faith and leaning in.

I spent most of yesterday outside the house, I didn’t feel safe here and I didn’t want to have more conflict escalate.

Fortunately nothing further happened.

You want details you contact me directly I am being circumspect about what goes on my blog for a little while.

When the dust settles I may elaborate more, but tonight as I write, suffice to say it’s been unpleasant and I have been taking actions around my housing situation to the best of my abilities.

I also have to say thank God for my external support and for the people who I could call and talk to and get suggestions from.

So much lovely help.

I needed every bit.

And so, it was of no surprise, not really, when I got home after a long stressful day yesterday and found a bill from my health insurance for $867.23.



I knew it.

I had a feeling I was going to get a sucker punch from the endoscopy.

I looked over the bill and though yes, I was a touch upset, in the end my insurance did cover $3200 of the procedure.

Grateful for that.

I sat down and wrote out a check.

Then I balanced my checkbook.



I have therapy and need groceries.

I am sitting with money in my account, but it’s earmarked toward rent, my rent check has not been cashed yet.

I double checked my addition and subtraction and I thought about a few things I wanted to do today.

Car wash.

And decided to pull money from my savings account.

Did I have to?


I would have been ok until payday.

I mean.

I would have bought nada.

But I would have been ok.

Then I thought, why feel pinched when I have money there that can be used?

I transferred the money that I had earmarked for Paris into my account and decided to make sure I looked over my budget and spending for the month.

It’s a big month for travel.

I have no regrets about what I spent in New York.

I am very happy for the trip, the memories, the mementos.

Absolutely no thoughts that I should have done it any different.

It was a wonderful trip.

Paris will be too.

I may not have the $867 that had to go to the hospital bill, but I have enough.

I’m o.k.

That became sort of the theme today.

I am o.k.

I am going to be o.k.

Everything is o.k.


Things are hard.

Things are challenging.

Life is showing up and doing what life does, giving me opportunities to learn and grow and expand my capacity for love.


There were tears today too.


I talked for the first half about my living situation and what happened yesterday.

My therapist really applauded how I handled the situation.

I was not expecting that, to be told that what I did under pressure was admirable.

That felt good to have reflected back to me.

I still had few moments of feeling overwhelmed when I talked about what had happened, but hey I didn’t die and though it was intense and unpleasant, I got through it.

I had lunch with a friend today after therapy and he reflected some of the same things back to me.

It was super fun to see him.

He works in a cool tech company and they have lunch delivered and so yay, free lunch and an hour with a good friend.

He also helped me figure out my bottom line around my situation and gave me some brilliant language should I need, when I suspect, it’s not going to be a should, it will be a when, to stand up to the situation and what is happening.

It was calming and I appreciated hearing it and that he also acknowledged I do have a lot of power in the situation.




And more faith.

It shall prevail.

The rest of the day was nice, like I mentioned, helping out the family, getting to do the work on my spending plan, taking time to eat a nice dinner, just a salad and sparkling water, but it felt good to nourish myself on the earlier side of dinner as I had a client cancel and I wanted to do the deal tonight at 8p.m.  I was able to leave after my first client and get across town right on time.

Where again I got to be aware of fear and faith and that they are similar, belief in something that cannot be proven.

So I chose faith.

I will continue to choose faith.

Knowing that I am loved and carried and I just have to show up and take the next actions in front of me.

It will all work out.

It really will.

The Ocean

July 15, 2017

On your lips after swimming.

The sky falling down at sunset into your eyes.

Muffled piano in the distance and the pull of a low cello string.

The salt of you on my mouth a harbinger of sweetness, this winning

Smile in my tender heart, so shy for you, say you love me it whispers.

Not with words, just with actions, and then with words.

I do not need to hear it.

(I do.)

But say it anyway.

Say it with your hands brushing the hair fallen in my face.

Say it with your eyes, the longing for me there, to not lose me, to keep me to stay.





Where there is no future.

Where there is just now.

Where there is just love.

Say it with the salt of sweat on your brow, the cleft of your cupid bow mouth.

On my mouth.

Say it soft and low and slow and then just stop.

Stop and hold me against you.

Stop and let me be with you.

Let me in.

Stop moving me forward into a place where there is no you, nor is there I.

Stay here.

Stay with me.


Where all is star light exploding inside of me.

Where all of you is all of me.

Where the love is fair and bright.

And the dark night is but soft in repose and gentle.

In your arms.

Circled around me.

Where I long to be.

Tasting again the ocean on your lips.

After a swim.

In that love.






My darling.

Stay with me.


No News

November 11, 2016

Is good news?

I think.

I guess.

I don’t know.

As I haven’t heard back yet from the mom in regards to my cost of living ask.


It could go either way.


I have a feeling, fingers crossed, that what is going on is that they are working on putting together a contract.

I hope that’s the case.

I was giving myself a case of anxiety checking my e-mail all day long.


Not a peep.

But hey!

Guess what time it is?

Time to fill out my FAFSA forms again.


Sure, more student loans, why not?

Just what every girl needs this time of year.

And, heck, all times.

I’m not mad though, it’s just another thing that has to be done on my journey through grad school, through life, through this next twist in the road.

I was thinking, ooh, I know, it gets me into trouble, watch out, that I could have worded it different, my ask to the family, or that I should have waited until they had sent me the contract, or….

And then I realized.


It’s ok.

If it was a mistake, that’s ok, I get to make mistakes.

I’m allowed to fuck up.

I will be taken care of.

It still is uncomfortable waiting to hear back, but I also realize the last couple of days have been an intense time for a lot of folks and they may just have a lot on their plate.

No need to panic.

I’ve got other things to panic about anyhow.

I have a great big paper to write this weekend.

I have great big amounts of reading to do.



So it goes.

I have done a lot of reading in the past week, more so than I thought I would get in, heck, I even snuck in two and a half chapters at work today while the boys were in quiet time, which never happens.


But there is still much to go and I really will need to focus my time and energy on all things school this weekend.

Not like I had date plans anyway.

No dates since last Saturday’s MOMA coffee date, which was my last of the last Tinder dates that was floating out there.

I haven’t been asked out and I haven’t asked anyone out and I don’t have plans to.

My monkey brain wants to make something of that, but at the moment, I am just trying to keep my mind on the big Psychopathology paper I need to kick out this weekend.

But maybe I just need to focus on what is in front of me this next day and not worry too much.

Just do what I can when I can.

It will get done.

Doesn’t it always?

I actually had a classmate reach out and ask me for some directions on the paper and I broke it down and I was like, hmm, I think I actually understand how to write this paper better than my brain wants to let on.

Good old brain.

You just love creating some anxiety don’t you?

Tomorrow is Friday and I am grateful.

It’s been a big week.

When tomorrow wraps I’ll have put in 41 hours.

Which on one hand is not so much.

But when I throw in grad school reading, meeting my person on Monday, meeting another lady on Tuesday, and just the day-to-day out and about and doing the deal.

It feels like a big week.

Full time, full tilt, full on, boogie.

Friday how I do love thee.

The weekend always goes by fast and it’s hard to believe that it’s November.

I’ll hand it to grad school for that, the days they do go by quick when they are so filled.

I do wonder when I try to add dating into the mix if I am just trying to distract myself from thinking about all the work I have to do.


I also don’t want to wait until I’m done with grad school to be dating.

Although it’s been suggested that I not worry about getting into a relationship while I’m in school.


What’s another few years?

And how come?

I mean, I am actually in the minority in my class, most of the people in there are partnered up and or married.

I’m a slow learner, I suppose.

And there were so many other things I needed to work on that I know relationship stuff tended to get tossed into the back yard.

Here’s a funny.

Guy who stood me up on a date a month and a half ago, yeah, which one, anyways.

Now following me on Instagram.

What is up with that?

He is hot though.



Doesn’t really matter, I don’t foresee a hottie in this weekend, I’ve got too much to do.

The weekend before the weekend of classes is often the biggest work weekend for me of the month.

I have to prep food for work, for school, and for the following work week–although, hey!

I just realized, maybe not so much.

It will be a short week as it’s Thanksgiving.

I am so looking forward to going out-of-town with my girl friend from school.

Slumber party!

It’s going to be nice to, to have Thanksgiving plans.

Last year was awful.

That was when things were actively falling apart for me around an unrequited love relationship.

Every once in a while I think about him.

He popped into my head today.

Some one read a blog in my archives about him and it made me think about him for a moment and wish him the biggest love.

That was nice.

To wish love for someone with no strings or expectations.

I have a few of those in my life.

I am lucky to have the love in my life that I have experienced.


It has not always, um ever, looked like what I thought it should or would.

But that’s ok.

It’s been love.

And for that.


I am grateful beyond words.



You Are Right

February 22, 2015

I am wrong.

I found this business card in my wallet today and I propped it up on my dining room/kitchen table/desk spot and every time I have sat down for a meal or to balance my check book, to pick up a book, or to write in my notebook, I see the card.


Right vs Happy


You are almost always right and I am almost always wrong.

I have a skewed sense of perspective and need help.

All the time.

I don’t find this statement offending, far from it, there’s comfort in the face of being wrong.

I can be right.

I have been told.


I can be happy.

I would so much rather be happy.

In that vein I have made some moves to amend some behaviors.

One of which was to send a text to a friend last night who was going to help me with my scooter.

I had been told to do otherwise and yet, here I am courting someone’s help, who yes, it was offered, and yes it is appreciated, but no, said person doesn’t happen to have any experience with vintage Vespa’s.

Plus, the only reason I was asking for his help was to avoid paying to have it looked at.

That’s an amend.

Paying my way.

Being self-supporting.

There is asking for the generosity of my friends and accepting help when I need it, which I often do and I have had to rely on people all throughout my life, especially in the last ten years, for help in all kinds of awkward situations.

But that’s life.


I need help.

I don’t like asking for it.


There is also the reverse wherein I don’t do something out of fear that I won’t be able to handle the financial ramifications of getting something fixed.

I have a clock, a beautiful antique clock that I bought a flea market in Paris when I was visiting in 2007 that worked when I bought it, but about four years ago stopped.

I have been to petrified to have it looked at–I can’t afford to fix that, its going cost too much.

So it’s become a decoration on my wall.

Like my scooter has become, a decoration in the entry way to my studio.

I have been afraid of the scooter costing too much to repair, despite knowing that it probably won’t be.

So I found myself accepting help out of fear of financial insufficiency.

The date I went on last night, well, that was eye-opening, and for whatever reason I was able to hear what he was saying, suggested I take it in to his friend at Vespa SF.

Novel fucking idea.

Take my vintage 1965 Vespa to a place that um, yeah, specializes in Vespa’s.


I texted my friend who had offered his help after the date and said, thank you, but no thank you, I’m taking it to the mechanic.

Side bar.

I slept with this friend over a year ago and it was suggested that after clearing up a little on my side of the street that I perhaps not hang out with him.

I took care of returning something of his and was prepared to do just that, but we had such a nice time hanging out after his stuff was got out of my garage that it was a great idea, yeah, he can come over and help me with the scooter.

Then I realized.


I’m dating, new people, new guys, not hanging out with guys that it didn’t work out with.

That’s an amend too.

I’m supposed to walk away from the shut door, not that I can’t see my friend, but maybe right now, as it’s been suggested, not hanging out is a good idea.



I cancelled.

And what do you know.

The guy I went out with last night, who is mechanically inclined as well, and yes, used to own a similar Vespa, texts me and says, let me look at it before you take it in to the mechanic.


Come on over baby and look at my Vespa.


I think there’s some adjusting that needs doing.


Ah, I amuse myself.

Anyway, so he’s going to swing by and help me get it running, then I’m going to take it to the mechanic anyway, I want to get the fender popped out and that will have to come off to be done.

Changing behavior.

Not reaching out to my ex boyfriend when I have missed him.

Wishing him, instead, love and light every time I hear a motorcycle go by instead.

Not reaching out to my old friend who I said goodbye to last Sunday.

I really want to check in on him and see how he’s doing, but it’s not my place and I can’t.

Showing up for the relationships that are opening up around me and really getting connected with my community right now is what I need to be doing.

I can’t help an active heroin addict.

I can’t.

I can love him with all my heart, but I can’t see him while he’s using, it’s just too much and it sucks, but that’s how it is.

Someone suggested that losing my friendship may be construed as a consequence of his using and he may need to see that, otherwise I’m getting in the way of him having the experience he needs to.

Hard changing my behaviors.

Hard amending my life long habits.

Loyalty to people who aren’t healthy to me.

I’m the one who needs to change.

Not him.

He can use or not use.

It’s not my business.

My business is within the circle of my arms.

And my heart.

I shared tonight about an amends to my grandmother that I have been dancing around.

Basically, it’s to go to see her in Chula Vista.

The harm is not one that’s obvious, I didn’t steal from her, but I haven’t actively shown up for her in my life, and she’s the last grandma I have.

I don’t want to regret not having contact with her.

And there’s so much about my family that I don’t know.

So much of my father’s past and childhood, my ancestry, I know I look a lot more like my father’s side of the family than my mom’s, but that’s not a relationship, that’s just an observation.

I have done a lot of inventory, writing, therapy, and what all around the trauma and abuse that happened to me when I was a child and I know that this will help me, that I need to reconnect with my grandmother and not shut the door on the past, but move away from peeking through the cracks.

I need to show up and let go all at the same time.

“You need to go and hold her hand and look into her eyes,” he said to me.


I may not get resolution, but I don’t need it so much.

I have acceptance, which though not approval is an adequate substitution for me, of what happened to me and the work that I have done there is tremendous.

I want my family back.

All pieces.

All parts.

I want to be whole.

This feels like the last big amend that I need to do.

I have flirted around looking at a plane ticket for the last couple of weeks, but keep saying, I’ll get it when…

Then I heard what I need this evening to finally have that key of willingness turn and click and I came home and wrote an e-mail to my grandmother and asked if she would like a visit and when would be a good time to come down and see her.

Just the relief that I got from sending the e-mail was affirming.



The next frontier.

Dating is lovely.

But family.

Family is really where it’s at for me.

And I suspect, know, that it will be the key to the dating.

Clearing up the past to move on forward to the future I am destined to live.

Being clear and present for the right now.

So I can be with the right one.

Which is me.

In case you were wondering.


I Didn’t Do Much

January 4, 2014

But I did a whole lot of it.

I had one of those days, still am, I believe, where I feel like I did not accomplish a single thing, but upon reflection did a lot of things.

I went grocery shopping at three different grocery stores.

That is what may have set me off.

Realizing this morning that I either was going to have black coffee or make a run up to Other Avenues to buy some almond milk for my breakfast.

I don’t mind shopping there, it’s just super expensive.

More expensive than Whole Foods.

Pricier than Rainbow.

It’s a co-op that I cannot justify buying a membership to as I won’t spend enough there to make it worth while.

But sometimes you just gotta have the milk for the morning coffee.

As I was sitting back at the house, having gotten back without too much of a dent in my pocket-book, I sipped my coffee, and thought, I really need to do a big grocery shopping trip.

I had recently done my spending plan for the month of January and I was reviewing how much I spent on groceries and eating out in December and it was a lot more than I wanted to be spending.

Food in San Francisco is expensive.

And, too, I realized yesterday after sitting down and talking in a cafe with a confidant, that I was eating too many convience meals.

Eating out more than once a week for dinner or not spending the time to really cook a meal, so I rely on a Japanese sweet potato microwaved in the oven at work with carrots and hummus for snacking and an apple or pear to get me through.

And while that’s all well and good, it does add up when I am not actually cooking my food, when I just grab and go.

Plus, there’s something about having a home cooked meal that is really nice for me.

So, as I finished my breakfast and decided yes to another cup of coffee, I made a list of groceries and resolved to actually get to Rainbow and maybe even Trader Joes, Bed, Bath, Beyond, et al at the little shopping outlet down on 9th and Harrison.

I also took down the Christmas tree.

Wrapped up all my ornaments, curbed the tree, and cleaned the house of all pine needles shed while dismantling the tree.

I did two loads of laundry.

Wrote three pages long hand.


Moved stuff around the garage and re-arranged my space a little.

I am resolved to get an extra chair in here where the Christmas tree was so that when I have guests over I can entertain a little better.

Nice to have a cup of tea and sit across from someone.

Also something I did today.

I had someone over and we sipped cups of tea and read some stuff that’s pretty important to my life and hers.

Then I hopped a ride down to the Castro with her having put it out to the Universe, ie Facecrack, that I needed a ride to run some errands and gotten an affirmative response almost immediately, I had an errand to run at Church and Market then we were going to meet in the Mission.

I went to PhotoWorks and decided to really drop a dime.

I am in possession of my grandparents, on my mother’s side, wedding photo.

I believe it’s the only one in existence and it’s torn in half.

I found it tucked in between the pages of a book my mom had sent me years ago and she must have gotten it from my grandparents house when my grandmother passed nine years ago this Christmas Eve.

I unearthed it with my things when I unpacked the things I had in storage when I left for Paris.

I have had it propped up on my bookshelf for a few weeks now and decided last week that I wanted to restore it, frame it, and give it back to my mom when I go see her and my sister in Florida next weekend.

I fly a red-eye out from SFO next Saturday.

I am going to be there for an anniversary of my sisters and another of mine that we happen to “coincidentally” have in common.

Life is amazing sometimes.

It really is.

“Good thing the tear is not down the faces,” the clerk at PhotoWorks said to me as I handed him the fragile sepia paper.

“I think we might be able to repair it, but it’s going to take some time and a bit of work, let me get you a quote,” he said and then disappeared for a few minutes behind the door in the rear of the shop.

“Yup,” he said when he returned, “it’s actually quite a bit more than I even thought,” he placed the two pieces of the photo down gently in front of me.

“$150 to do the restoration,” he said pushing the pieces toward me.

“Oh, wow, that is a lot more than I thought it would be,” I said hesitantly looking at the photograph, the smile on my grandmother’s face as she looked up at my grandfather, he towering over her in an old-fashioned black suit and thin tie, a smile on his face that I rarely remember seeing.

I held the pieces in my hand.

“Do it,” I said with some resolve.

It’s only money, Martines, you won’t regret this.

There is more money coming.

Invest in your history.

Do this.

“You can change your mind,” the clerk said, “we won’t be able to get to it until Tuesday.”

“No,” I said with more resolve, “this is it, this is important, please take care of it.”

“Ok, if you decide to not proceed, just call us by end of day Monday,” he scooped the two halves into an envelope and carefully sealed it.

“Do you want any prints of it?” He asked as he wrote my name and information down on a label which he then affixed to the envelope.

“I do!” I said.

Then I thought, Jesus, how much are they going to be, but I want one and I think my sister should have one too.

“60 cents,” the clerk said with a smile.

“Yes!” I said with relief, “I will take three.”

And I walked out of the shopped dazed, but happy I invested in my family.

I am grateful beyond words for them and I can’t wait to see my mom’s face when she opens the box.

I also procured some frames for the photographs on my walk from the Castro to the Mission.

Then my friend called, swooped me up and took me to Rainbow, where I did the novelty of shopping with an actual cart, not a basket.

I got a lot of food.

More than enough to get me through the next two weeks and then a few days more, most likely.  I got extra almond milk and coffee because I don’t get to Rainbow often, I also got the really big container or organic yogurt and extra eggs and string cheese, and the fixings to make a really yummy soup.

I am soaking the cannelli beans now.

We also dashed over to Trader Joes and I picked up some organic chicken to make my bean soup with.  I am going to do a white bean soup with garlic, onions, shredded chicken, black olives, corn, carrots, and peas.  I got extra brown rice to go with it and in between my commitments tomorrow I am going to rock out some tasty soup.

My friend and I sang songs from the Glee soundtrack at the top of our lungs on the drive back to Ocean Beach and the sunset smeary pinks and smokey grays, dusky indigo over the sea and my heart filled with the sight.

We unloaded my goodies (also a trip to Bed/Bath/Beyond for dish detergent, toilet paper, razors, toothpaste all the shit I don’t want to think about but have to plan special trips out for if I am on my bike–toilet paper especially is a hassle in my messenger bag, too bulky) and I made him a cup of coffee.

I drank my tea and we chatted, love and dating and friends and fellows, jobs and school and travels and I thought, how lucky am I to have such a sweet friend in my life?

When he left to go play poker with friends I fished out the Japanese sweet potato from the oven that had been roasting as we caught up, and had dinner.

My brain said, man, you didn’t get much done today, but looking about, the frames in a stack awaiting my grandparents wedding photo, the new frame on my wall highlighting an original photograph I bought over fifteen years ago from an artist in Madison (another find in my boxes of stuff in storage I had forgotten about), the cupboards full of good food, the beans soaking on the stove, I knew I had gotten a lot done.

It just did not feel crazy because I did not feel crazy or rushed or busy.

The day unfolded in a lovely divine mellow sweet way.

Just like my life probably will, as long as I stay out of my way and let the “opinions” in my head just be opinions.

“Feelings are not facts,” I told her today, “I am my actions, not my thoughts.”

My actions, indeed.

Sometimes the acts of basic self-care are the hardest ones to accomplish, and the least likely to be applauded, but they bring me the most fulfilment.

Read a little.

Write a little.

Drink a little tea.

Hug a friend.



Breathe deep.

Just because it feels like I didn’t do much.

Doesn’t mean that great things weren’t accomplished.

They were.


You Can Do Anything You Want

October 21, 2013

As long as you accept the consequences of your actions.

There are some consequences I am down with, although I don’t particularly like them, I accept them.

Such as, the alarm is set for 7 a.m. and I have a full week of work ahead of me and should have been in bed but just had a friend leave.

Should I have sent said friend off into the Sunset, literally, that is where I live, or sit back, sip another cup of tea and know that the cost, a little less sleep, is well worth the little more friend.

I will gladly sacrifice that, hanging out with someone who is important in my life, to a few less hours of sleep.

Besides I slept in today and I don’t feel anything like sleepy yet.

I am sure that will bite me in the ass tomorrow sometime mid-afternoon when the boys are in between naps, but that is tomorrow, not right now.

Right now is pretty damn good.

Today was a good day.

Not a lot got done, but so much did as well.

Number one on the list?

Got the wet suit!

I went to Wise Surf shop over on Great Highway and sucked it up, literally and figuratively and got into the dressing room and tried on suits.

Wet suit shopping though not as fraught with emotional hang ups like swim suit shopping, is still a challenge and there is still getting nakedness happening.

Although I kept the bra on to climb in the first half of the suits.

I tried on O’Neill and Excel.

I ended up getting an Excel.

Fit better in the shoulders and it is now hanging in my closet.

I still am a little in awe that I actually went and got it.

But as I rode my bicycle over to the store seeing the sun breaking on the waves in patches where it drifted through the clouds and the fog, I knew I was doing the right action.

And I also knew, pretty much to a dime, what I could spend on the suit.

I came in about $50 under what I was aware my budget was.

Which means I can also get a pair of booties before I go back out.

I just got the suit today.

I had a tentative date to go surfing with my friend for next Sunday, but he had forgotten he had outstanding plans, so I may wait a little longer, but I know I am going.

I am also ecstatic to report that he is going to loan me his long board for a few months.


I have a wet suit and access to a surf board.

Now I just have to get my butt down to the water.

Step by step it is happening.

I have had a really nice Sunday, I am still reflecting, as the taste of my bean soup is sparking on my mouth, I also cooked up a big pot of soup–red kidney beans, white navy beans, onions, garlic, brown crimini mushroom, Seitan, lots of sea salt and black pepper and hours on the stoves cooking down.

A second pot of brown rice on the stove and I have food for the good part of the week.

I am quite glad to have taken the time to cook.

And to see my friend.

He was in the neighborhood having coffee with a friend of his, shot me a text, said, what are you up to and came over.

And we talked about shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings.

Love and sex and death and money.



He is almost done with my book and I am tickled by what he said.

Horrified too.

I know that the work is not as good as it could be and grammatically is probably a nightmare.

There is too, that vulnerability of having someone who’s critical voice matters to me.

In his own way, without meaning to, he’s my reader.

I don’t know how better to put that.

I have people who read my work, but as he’s been reading my blogs and a consistent supporter of my writing, I find that I consider him my reader.

That does not mean I write to him as an audience, oh no, gentle reader (to steal from Stephen King), I do not.

I wear that old heart on the sleeve, but there are still some things up my sleeve that I don’t reveal here.

There always will be.

My heart is open.

But my brain is not always.

Besides, my brain is best as a servant not as a master.

If I were to start thinking of any one person as having influence on what I write I’m screwed.

“Hi mom.”

“Hey, former employer who found out that I wrote about her mother’s underpants.”

(sorry that, but lady, you could have stopped reading at any time and it really was disconcerting to see your mother in her underwear while I was your nanny)

“Hey dude I slept with who lied to me about being single.”

“Hey friend who I want to sleep with, but am not quite, maybe soon, maybe not, ready to accept those consequences.”

I mean, add to the list.


I trust my friends thoughts and his steady unasked for support of my work.

This, this thing I do, this writing thing that I cannot stop doing.

Look at all those damn notebooks.

“Remember when I was at your house and I wanted a tea-cup and all you had were notebooks in the cupboard,” a recent friend said to me over coffee.

I do.

Those notebooks are in a big container in the garage.

I would write if you did not read.

I would accept the consequences of staying up “past my bedtime” to write this blog.

I would accept the consequences of sleeping with you too, but that’s another story for another night.

Life is short.

Love is lasting.

Sex is good.

Friends are better.

I got a wetsuit today and made soup.

I had a cup of tea with my friend and talked.

I listened to music and wrote.

I may not be very good at any of it, but I accept the consequences of doing that too.

Because if I had everything I ever wanted and never had to struggle or work for what I have, then I wouldn’t be a remarkable person.

I am remarkable.

And I accept those consequences too.

Believe that the mistakes you make are better than the ones you don’t risk because you were afraid to take them.


Go forth and make some mistakes.

Stay up late.

Kiss the wrong boy.

If you’re kissing him he’s the right one right now anyhow.

I guess what I am saying is that for the most part I may not choose to stay up past my bedtime very often anymore.

But when I do it is well worth it.

It certainly was tonight.


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