Posts Tagged ‘adventure’

You’re Hella Hot

May 27, 2016

And you’re not chasing after anything.

Just a reminder to myself as I almost reached out to someone to be all like, um, come over.

I don’t need to be doing that.

I am just feeling my oats.

I’m over the jet lag and the weirdo sickness I had early in the week.

And.

Fuck.

I did yoga today.

Holy shit.

That was good.

I’m probably going to be sore tomorrow, the instructor for the classes that I got to on Monday and Thursday has the sneaky way of getting us into these poses that I’m all great in the moment, then the next day I think my arms are going to fall off my shoulders.

But right now?

Fuck.

I am on fire.

Could be that I just saw a bunch of really special, awesome, amazing women.

I realized as I looked around the room, how many people I knew and loved and how many of the women in that space I had some direct connection with.

I’m pretty fucking lucky to have these ladies in my life.

Plus.

Well.

Tomorrow is Friday.

“You look good,” she said to me, “look at your legs!”

“You’ve been doing yoga,” another girl friend said, “haven’t you?”

“What happened in New York?  I haven’t been following your blog,” she asked.

I gave the dish.

There’s always a lot to dish about.

Yeah, I talk about sex and wearing my heart on my sleeve and being all transparent, but some times there’s things that only the girl friends get to hear.

“Elk Grove?  That’s too far away!”  She said, “got to get action closer to town.”

I smiled.

“And what about,” she said.

“Nope, not enough time,” I replied.

“Give him a few months,” she smiled and her eyes twinkled.

The things is.

I don’t have to do anything, I don’t have to manipulate or text or pull strings or make shit happen.

Life.

Love.

Sex.

Making out.

Dancing.

Everything, all the time, it’s happening.

I just usually need to get the fuck out of the way.

Show up, let go of expectations and see what happens.

And just because I’m feeling sassy doesn’t mean I have to act on it.

I can just enjoy the energy in my person and do some dancing in my room or you know, rub one out, not like I don’t have the equipment to take care of business.

Rechargeable like.

Cuz that’s how I roll.

I’m single and available for dating.

“You need to date a bunch of guys,” she said to me over the table at Tart to Tart, “don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

Yeah.

I know.

I can get all up on someone and be like, ok, let’s make this work.

Nope, lady, it’s just investigations.

See where things go.

I like adventure.

I get to remember that this is all an adventure.

I haven’t been much on Tinder but I’m not off the app either.

I haven’t really been asked out, well, ha, that’s not true, I just had to pause and say, no, I’m flattered, but you got to focus on  you for the time being.

And it’s not like I’m not getting some fun and flirtatious texts from another gentleman.

I’m just not getting things on my time.

Because.

You know.

I want it all right now.

NOW.

Damn it.

But that’s not how it works, never has for me anyway.

People got schedules and lives and they don’t always comply to mine.

And things change.

Life changes.

If you had told me six months ago that the person I was head over heels for was not going to be in my life anymore, no phone calls, no texts, no connections, I would have been like, what ever, that is so not happening.

But.

It was for the better.

It was pretty cool to scooter through the intersection the other day at 46th and Irving as he was crossing the opposite way in his car.

He flashed his lights and waved.

I waved back and smiled.

We went our opposite directions.

And that was that.

I totally forgot about it until I saw his room mate the other night at my thing up the street that I go to on Wednesday night.

For a second I looked around half expecting him to walk in the door and then.

Nothing.

It was gone again.

No pain.

No upset.

No thought about it.

Just calm and serene and chatting with a friend before coming home and writing and having some tea.

I’m in a super happy place right now.

I think that is a part of it.

I want to share it.

And I am.

I am sharing it with you.

The dating or the not dating or the sex or the not having sex, let’s have sex though, shall we, will happen without me pulling strings and trying to organize it.

Natural.

And fun and easy.

Because when I try to make shit happen.

Shit happens.

I’d rather remember that I am here to date the man God wants me to date.

And yes.

I know exactly how fucking hokey that sounds.

But.

God’s got my back.

I know it.

There are no mistakes in God’s world.

So.

I say.

Sit back, lady, relax, enjoy the showing up and the willingness to try and see what is to be had, to have fun, to let loose, to dance, to shake it out, to be alive.

Alive is nice.

I got a three day weekend coming up and a date for next Saturday.

My impatience is just a defect of character.

God’s time.

Martines.

All in good time?

No, God’s time.

Not my time.

Never my time.

Remember that.

Have fun.

Dress sexy because it makes me happy to do so.

And see what happens.

 

“Be the ball, Martines,” Shadrach said to me.

Words to live by.

Be the fucking ball.

I’m not here to chase.

I’m fucking worthy of the pursuit.

I’ll just be over here having a fun time until then.

Life.

Is.

Fucking.

Amazing.

Three day weekend!

Bring it.

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Upside Down

May 12, 2016

Right side in.

Topsy turvy.

This day has been strange.

However.

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

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

I was knocked out last night.

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

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

Yay sleep.

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

Oh.

Yeah.

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

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

Except.

Well.

Shoot.

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

I really took it well.

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

But then.

I got happy.

Hey!

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

I may wrangle him for one of my museum days.

He is an artist after all.

So instead of getting miffed, I just got real.

Ok God.

Where do you want me to stay?

I mean.

I am a little overwhelmed with the decision.

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

I have gotten some nice leads.

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

The place will find me or I will find it.

Right now.

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

I got one more in today.

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

Not much, but some motion.

And!

Yes!

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

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

I texted her and got the password to the account.

And voila!

I can now format all my papers in APA style.

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

Well.

At least better formatted than the previous ones.

I still have to write the thing.

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

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

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

I had five classes this semester.

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

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

Queens?

Brooklyn?

Hell’s Kitchen?

Harlem?

Chelsea?

Wait.

Come back, Martines, not there yet.

Get back to the paper.

So.

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

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

Then date night.

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

All work and no play makes Carmen no fucking fun.

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

“Where would Mike Doughty stay?”

Fucking cracks me up.

Maybe I’ll just message him.

Hey, you got a place you like?

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

Ha.

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

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

Oops.

Ha.

Digressed again.

I am happy though.

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

Isn’t most of my life like that?

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

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

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

OMG.

I found my scent.

I am in love.

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

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

I suspected I was needing something new.

And wouldn’t you know it.

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

I walked in.

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

Issey Miyake Feu D’Issey.

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

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

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

She suggested this and that.

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

Then.

Oh damn Gina.

There it was.

Rose Flash.

Holy shit.

I had a visceral reaction to it.

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

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

I was completely transported.

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

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

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

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

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

Well poo.

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

Yup.

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

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

Happy.

I feel happy smelling it.

Ah.

So nice.

See.

Something new.

A new smell, a new experience.

There’s something great in New York.

Serendipity.

Love.

Adventure.

There are no problems.

Only different points of view.

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

Looking forward to it.

Now, excuse me, while I wind down.

I’ve got some busy time ahead of me.

And opportunity to see what happens next.

I suspect it will be amazing.

It always is.

I Didn’t Call That Many People

June 26, 2014

From Paris.

I told my friend with an arched eyebrow.

He was one of the few I did call.

There was the fantasy land man.

Who lived in my fantasy land world, saying goodbye to that fantasy was probably more difficult than saying good bye to the actual man himself.

But saying good bye to my friend then, as in tonight, was much harder.

I don’t know that I ever told him that.

He asked what was hardest about leaving for Paris, as he is about to embark on a five month long journey across the Universe.

Not perhaps the universe as it pertains to leaving a country to live in another country, but the unfolding multi-layered, land of the unknown, and that is a universe.

Vast in scope.

The last time I saw my friend, I will not lie, he was my lover, and so too there was another layer of experience to entertwine with it all.

And fantasy too of course.

He told me once after I had just gotten back from Paris that he had hoped I would never return.

Not in a mean way.

Not in that way of, I didn’t ever want to see you again, but in that, I was really rooting for you to make it there.

I left with all intentions of leaving.

He will be returning, he’s got a job to return to, a rent controlled pad in the Mission (which means he will never truly leave San Francisco), and a plethora of love for the city by the Bay.

Besides somebody who like food as much as he does just ain’t gonna be able to stay away.

That difference in our experience didn’t allow me to exactly be able to pin down for him the depth of feeling that  I was having as I said good bye to people and places San Francisco (like, why did I wait this long to do this thing, go to that place, and now it’s too late).

“You were pretty wrecked by the time I showed up for your going away party,” he mentioned to me.

I was.

It was abysmal.

I remember talking to another dear friend that morning and telling her how much I was struggling with just showing up for it.

I would have prefered to have slunk off in the night.

Sometimes, though, certain things stay with you.

I took an actual photograph on my friend as he lazed on my chaise in the corner sipping tea and ponitificating on the experience of the experience, because I wanted to remember.

I am sure I will, but sometimes memory fades and a good photo remains to remind me.

The last time I saw him before I left for Paris was not when he kissed me good bye on the corner of Valencia and 14th Street.

About to roar off in another man’s car after having my tryst with my lover the night before.

No.

It was watching him walk into the gas station on Mission and 14th.

Maybe he was getting a soda.

Maybe a pack of cigarettes, though I don’t recall him smoking at the time.

I do recall driving the Audi convertible down 14th to hit the freeway heading back over to East Oakland where I had another night or two of getting what little I left to do done, and seeing him.

I wanted to holler.

I wanted to wave.

I wanted to freeze the moment in time.

And that is what I did instead of calling attention to him.

I was driving off, soon to be flying off, leaving on a jet plane, as the story goes.

He was turning the corner, shoulders hunched up just a bit, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, glasses on his face catching a splinter of sunlight, cabbie hat cocked sideways, brim pulled low.

I saw him as he reached for the door to the gas station across the street from the Armory, and then he as he stepped inside.

The light turned green.

“Goodbye lover,” I said out loud, not loud enough to be heard anywhere but inside my heart.

And then I drove off.

I remember hitting the on ramp and accelerating through the turn and whooping.

I felt so light.

So.

Aloft.

I had leapt.

I had not yet landed, but I had leapt and there was no going home now.

No home to go home to.

Only the future to move forward into.

Paris.

France.

Go baby go.

Of course that fantasy was squelched, but I did go and I will keep doing things like that, perhaps not so uprooting, I don’t know that I am supposed to do that again, but more letting go, baby go, of those fantasies.

There was one in which, many years, maybe seven, ten, I would hear from him and we would reunite and things would get wild and wooly and right.

But that fantasy.

Well is just that.

Fantasy.

What did happen is that I came back, the world moved on, he moved on, love happened then.

In the cusp between friendship and being lovers, something else grew, a knowing of the person and of myself.

I don’t expect anything else now from the relationship.

Well.

A postcard from the edge would be nice.

He’s got my address.

A story.

That’s what I would like, but that’s not a fantasy either, that’s getting to bear witness to someone elses experience and laugh or cry or commiserate with it and be tied to them in yet another way.

How fortunate I am to see my friend tonight before he embarks on his own life changing journey.

To say, “I love you,” and know it full in my heart and let it all go.

Not the love, not the friend, but the fantasy, the idea of the story that I tell myself.

My home.

Now.

Here.

In San Francisco at the edge of the city, the edge of the world, on the brink of the sea, is exactly where I am supposed to be.

The only geographic I will be pulling anytime soon is one with my hair.

I am here to stay.

If only to be here so I can say hello to my friend when he returns.

Bon Voyage my darling.

May your travels be safe.

But not too safe.

Go eat the world.

 

Short & Sweet

July 21, 2013

I won’t write a super long blog tonight as I just posted a 1,000 + word one moments ago.

I was tempted to use it as my post-a-day blog post, but it was intended, is intended for another blog.

40 Represented.

About the experience of being a 40ish woman in the United States.

I was approached to write for it while I was in Paris and did indeed write a post for the creator.  She recently asked me to contribute again.

I had an idea after seeing  friend on Facebook turn 40.

A friend that though we are friends on Facebook, we have not spoken to one another in over 8 years.  I would have forgotten her birthday, had not the app prompted me to wish her a happy 40th.

40.

How did that happen?

Weren’t we all just having beers after hours in the Angelic Brewing Company?

Weren’t we just going to have brunch at the crazy waffle house restaurant, you could count on us all to have the same variation of things and none of it get eaten all up, the massive amount of food you got at this place was crazy.

My ex and I would split a strawberry waffle with whipped cream, get a side of hash browns, and a side of sausage.  S. & S. would get the omelet and a pancake in a pan, the Dutch Baby, with hash browns and bacon and both of them would get large glasses of fresh squeezed grapefruit juice.

R & B would omelet and waffle, strawberry as well, but with ice cream not whipped cream.

S & whomever she was dating at the time would get five egg omelet, hash browns, sausage, and side of silver pancakes.

No one ever finished.

It was assault by food.

We would laugh and joke and poke fun at one another and tell stories on each other, and the boyfriends listened and ate and stayed out of our conversations.

I love those ladies.

Although I see them not at all anymore.

So the blog, which you can just go read, examines those relationships and what happens over time to friendships.

Today, I got to see another friend, a dear friend, who I used to work with at the Angelic Brewing Company.

We had lunch and caught up.

The service was horrible, but the food, when it finally came was good.

The company, fantastic.

It’s good to see people who used to know me and I can get some deep perspective about what I have done with my life, really fast when I see how far I have come in regards to living a sustainable, joyful life.

It is like having a witness.

We get to bear witness to our struggles and joys and that too is what being a friend is about.

I also got to say I was walking through the I don’t know what I am going to do with all my free time really well.

So well, in fact, I forgot, after writing my initial morning pages and fielding a few e-mails for the design firm, to be concerned.

Then tonight as I am loading up my messenger bag with groceries, got to do it almost every time I travel, I saw there was a long message on my phone.

I had it turned off for a little while out of respect and had forgotten to turn the guy back on.

The test was long and at first confusing, then when I realized what it was asking, it became exciting, a little nerve-wracking, and chock-a-block full of adventure.

One of my families is going to the What the Festival in Oregon.

They had someone lined up to help with the baby.

Said person had to pull out.

Dad a musician, amongst other talents, is playing the event.

They need help.

I would get VIP access to all the shows, food, a ticket there, compensation, and lodging in their trailer.

Good prep for Burning Man.

I have never heard of the festival but once I saw the line up, after already saying yes, I looked at my wide open schedule and said yes, I got quite excited to go.

Check it out here.

I have yet to hear back from the mom, I sent the text out late, phone being off and all, but if they need me I would have a weekend to hang out at a music festival in Oregon, do some  nannying, hear some music, do some dancing.

Have an adventure.

Yes, please.

Sign me up.


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