Posts Tagged ‘autonomy’

Happy Monday Y’all

February 14, 2017

It’s been a damn good day.

Not that I am surprised or anything, but really, the difference between my last job and my current job continues to strike me with such amazement.

It’s been a long time since I have had the autonomy which comes from not having stay at home parents.

It feels amazing.

It’s not much different from how it used to be when I nannied, and yet, wildly different.

I have a lot of autonomy.

I do a lot.

But.

l also have a lot of down time, alone time, by myself time.

I’m super efficient and today I was done with everything that needed to be done at the house in an hour and a half.

I was able to sit, eat a nice mellow lunch, by myself, listening to music with a hot cup of tea and a bunch of my books for school.

Yeah.

I know.

I said I was going to give myself the day off from homework, but I had a feeling that I might get to have some time today to read and so, I just brought my books, just in case.

Grateful as all get out that I did.

I got in a good solid 45 minutes of work.

That may not sound like much.

But.

It’s 45 minutes more than I ever had at my old job and it’s 45 minutes less that I will have to do on my own time on my days off or before work or after work.

I’ll be getting a little bit more of that tomorrow as well.

And.

I’ll be running a bunch of errands on my own.

It’s been fabulous being out in the air, riding the trains, walking, taking the kids to the park.

Really so much more engaged and active.

It’s been blowing my mind and I’m super grateful for the time to have my own space and also that I am appreciated, really appreciated and constantly told how much.

I don’t need validation to do a good job.

But.

Man, it is nice to get it.

I’ve been complimented by everyone in the family for my cooking, I have had the mom tell me a number of times that I was a “treasure” and that I am a special person.

I feel warm and appreciated and if anything, it just makes me want to continue doing a good job for them.

We are a good match and I am grateful.

“See, your luck is changing,” my dear friend told me this weekend while we were catching up and having lunch in between classes.

Yes.

Life does seem to be evolving in a rather sweet way.

I feel like things are opening.

Like the plum blossoms on the trees, pressing their star-shaped petals into the Delphinium sky.

Spring has sprung and I feel really good and that I am moving into some very positive change.

Change happens all the time, but I often forget that it can be good even when it is uncomfortable.

I was reflecting on the fact that I’m in my second year of graduate school and all that change that has come with that.

I am in a new job and all that change that comes with that.

I have opened up myself to new experiences, new learning, new challenges.

I am traveling this year.

As is now my habit.

Man.

I do love to travel.

I still have not had a chance to sit down with the family and talk to them about going to Burning Man, I didn’t see the mom or dad today in a moment that would have worked.

I will and it will be fine and I realized that although, yes, I want to go, I will act in faith that whatever happens is what is supposed to happen.

I feel excited too.

Like there are more and more wonderful things happening.

I don’t feel as isolated as I have in the past and I feel grounded in my work and in myself.

I believe that I am also slowly getting into a routine with the new job and that certainly helps quite a bit.

Routines can help me navigate new situations.

Oh.

I want to be flexible enough to help out when I can.

And I do.

I got asked to stay a little late tonight as the mom and dad were juggling some big work stuff and I helped the dad make dinner while mom took care of business and the feeling of being in a warm space, in an environment that is beckoning, welcoming, and appreciative really made it no big deal to stay a little longer and help.

I still was able to get to where I needed to go tonight and connect with friends and fellows and do the deal.

Even though my head said, “nah, you could just go home and have dinner,” I found that it was an almost automatic response when I hit 7th and Irving to turn on my scooter’s turn signal and go where I needed to be.

To claim my seat, see my people, and get right with God.

Such a gift.

That.

Contrary action in the face of my thoughts, which always think they are right, don’t you, thoughts?

My thoughts are so often wrong I know at this point not to pay them too much attention.

Oh.

They nag at me once in a while.

What?

Single again on Valentines Day?

But.

For the most part.

I can softly turn down the channel on KFUCK and put on my preferred music station and get to the matters that help me clear the space to let in the light, to let in the real love, the real music.

The music of the spheres.

The spinning stars.

The full moon dropping into the ocean, it’s warm soft light piercing through the breaks in my bamboo shade over the back window.

A luminous reminder to look.

To see.

To appreciate all that is here.

This gift.

The present.

That continues to unfold.

Enwrap me and present to me on a continuous basis.

All that is.

Love.

Yes.

Love.

Bliss and blessings to you this Valentines Eve.

May it bring you untold joy.

Beauty.

And.

Grace.

 

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Open Mouth

April 16, 2016

Insert foot.

Oh goodness.

Sometimes I just open my mouth and the stuff that falls out.

Heh.

Oh well.

I was told by a gentleman tonight that he would be traveling in Europe for the next three months, in case I missed seeing him around, not to worry.

I replied, “I find you so disarmingly attractive that I am almost grateful for the reprieve.”

Jesus, Carmen.

He’s like um, a child.

I think.

I am going to guess he’s about 15 years my junior, but my, so very pretty.

Oh, all the pretty boys, they do, well, do me in.

I also explained to a girlfriend who had asked after me when noticing I was a bit in a fluster that I was also ovulating.

Happened this morning.

Should have known when I woke late in the night to use the bathroom and I saw the moon setting blood red over the sea.

Just a little reminder that I am human, and a woman at that.

I am grateful for this body, even when it doesn’t act like I want or look like I think it should.

Which reminds me.

Go sign up for the 9 a.m. yoga class at Yoga Beach.

That’s the only time I have to do yoga tomorrow.

I have to meet my person in the Inner Sunset, do the deal, then hop over the Bay to a friend’s house in North Berkeley for her baby’s first year birthday.

Hard to believe it’s been a year since I went and visited her and the proud papa at the hospital with their gorgeous new born.

So grateful to get to take the time out of my schedule to see some friends and snuggle some babies.

I got some damn good snuggles from the boys I work with today, which sort of saved me.

I have had a few moments this past week wondering if it just might not be easier for me to work for a family that doesn’t work from home.

Sometimes I miss my days of autonomy and going to the park on my schedule and not being monitored.

But then I get the best love from the boys and it fades, the desire to look elsewhere for work (although damn, I do miss working with babies) with kids that still take naps and parents that don’t work from home, and I get the biggest hugs and melt.

I mean, I just melted a couple of times today with these boys.

First, at the park, the eldest laid down on the bench next to me and pillowed his head on my lap, and proceeded to tell me that he wasn’t hungry.

In fact.

His exact words were, “Carmen, you’re the best.”

Pause.

“I don’t need snacks, I just need snuggles.”

And then he just cuddled against me and we sat and watched the pigeons try to sneak up on the graham cracker crumbs from his brother’s snack.

And.

Tonight, as I was going to leave, the youngest, galloping out of the kitchen, arms wide open, “Carmen, I love you, I will miss you, I love you, pick me.”

“Of course I will pick you,” and I scooped him up and pressed him tight to my heart.

He laid his head in the nook of my neck and just stayed there.

We had the longest hug, he just didn’t want to let me go.

I left with my heart so full of love.

It was a good day.

Still a little challenging.

There was another play date and it too ran over, but there was more direction in the day and I was able to get a decent break and sit down and chill out for a few minutes before the onslaught began again.

I was done by six and scootered over to Church and Market.

I had plans.

All of them waylaid.

I was going to go grocery shopping.

But sometimes, I swear, Whole Foods, it was too much, too much money, too much attitude, too many people sampling things and frankly, the produce actually looked bad.

I said, screw this.

I left.

I went to get a manicure.

The salon was packed and couldn’t take me.

Ugh.

I wandered around Aardvark Books then went over to the Church Street Cafe and had a tea.

I sat in the big leather chair in the window and daydreamed.

It was good to just sit for an hour and tool around on my phone, no good Tinder updates, sorry, although I have to say sometimes I do wonder about the profiles, dude you are not 35, and if you are, you need to see a doctor because you are aging really poorly.

It’s mostly, nope, nope, nope, oh hell no.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

Maybe.

Um nope, good first photo, second one pretty scary.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

Oh, you’re cute.

Oh, wait, too many photos of you drinking, or smoking or 420’ing.

And I will ultimately “nope” you if I see the following: women in the photo–either you want to get down with me and your girlfriend or you’re too lazy to post a photo without your ex-girlfriend in it; kids, unless specified that I am cool Uncle “Jake” or some such thing, I don’t feel good about guys putting photos of the kids on a dating website that’s geared toward pretty fast hooking up, I mean, ok, use your cute dog–god damn that is a cute dog! But don’t use your kid to troll, um, gross.

Obvious lying about age, smoking cigarettes, posting in your profile that you really like to drink, yeah, it’s obvious, most guys under a certain age (although that didn’t stop me tonight, blush, blush, blushing), and every once in a while there will be a guy I know that I go, hey, yeah, I have always liked you.

But.

Inevitably I get either a. no response b. a jackass’ery response and a bad joke (are you serious?) c. an “I’m just on here for fun.”

What the fuck does that mean?

Whatever.

Next.

So this is all to say I don’t have any dates lined up for the weekend.

I do have friend time, yoga time, recovery time, and me time.

I’ll take it with much gratitude.

And fingers crossed, I’ll sneak in a manicure too.

Whatever happens, homework anyone, I will have fun.

Be light.

Be flexible.

Be loving.

Be.

Well.

Beloved.

 

 

You Need To Hit Something

February 10, 2016

And hit it.

He laughed.

Oh my god I love that my person basically told me to go hit something, ie, go take a kick boxing class or a boxing class and hit a bag.

As well as.

Girl, go get laid.

Of course as soon as the permission is given I’m all like, who, who, who, I took down my Okstupid profile, how am I going to meet people, guys, I’m into guys, thank you, and ick, I didn’t like Tinder and…

“Face to face,” he said, “it’s called ‘adulting’ not texting, not online dating, face to face.”

Oh goodness.

Then I thought, well hell.

I’m busy as fuck when am I going to meet a fuckable fellow?

There’s a few places I could look and to tell the truth, I’m not going to loo too hard, when the time is right, the right man will present.

I am so horny it’s retarded.

I know exactly how un-PC that is.

That’s how it is.

In my pants.

Heh.

Oh and I so don’t give a serious fuck what anyone is thinking about this blog.

Family members, dear friends, those of tender mercies.

Stop reading.

The thrust, pun intended, of this blog is not going to be pretty.

But it might be sexy.

What I also love about being with my person is that I was able to be open about something that I have noticed myself doing and I don’t want to be doing.

It’s a form of self-sabotage that has it’s roots in a lot of family of origin crap that I have processed a lot about, but occasionally another layer is peeled off.

Here it the gist of it.

I like to dress up.

I like to wear dresses.

I love makeup.

I love frills and glitter and frippery.

Frippery is a word.

Although it does sound like something I might make up.

Anyway.

I have a tendency to get myself a pretty outfit, then not wear it.

I get excited about an event or a place or a thing that I am going to and then, last minute, change my mind, take off my heels, put back the dress, or worse, I don’t put it on in the first place, and I go back to my standard black leggings, jean shorts, tank top and t-shirt.

Sure.

It’s got its own sexy appeal.

More over it’s a handy work outfit.

I can bust it on my bicycle and I am cool.

I usually choose to adorn my hair with something floral and feathered, and I put some make up on.

Today.

I wore that exact outfit.

Exact.

Then I did my hair up into two big poofs, stuck two black and glitter flowers in it with black feathers and two different star shaped sequined hair clips.

(“Carmen!  I love your hair,” she said to me has I exited the gate and was unlocking my bicycle.  “I wish I could get away with stuff like that, it looks amazing!)

Plus.

I was wearing long should grazing silver star earrings with chains.

The affect was electric.

And I had fun.

But I will talk myself, self-sabotage, out of wearing the really fabulous shit in my wardrobe.

So.

I told on my self.

I told my person, who incidentally has me speaking for him this Sunday, and who also, is extraordinarily well put together himself (only one of the many reasons I work with him), that my head has been trying to tell me to not be so fabulous.

But that I want to be.

I mean.

I do.

I want to wear some polka dots.

Which is good since I got a red dress white polka dots to go with my new Fluevog shoes.

Mwahahahaaha.

And I want to wear a crinoline and I want to twirl in my dress in pretty shoes.

I am going to do just that, because my autonomy is attractive and my authenticity is important and because, damn it, I am allowed to get dressed up.

I am also allowed to get laid.

It’s about damn time.

I am not sure who I was trying to convince, but I’m over it.

I laugh at myself, “me thinks the lady dost protest too much.”

Sure.

The woman has needs and I am allowed to meet them.

Stop asking for permission and get it.

I also love that idea of hitting something, a body bag, a BOB, doing some target practice, doing some hitting drills, kicking drills.  I am going to explore that during my time off.

I have done some investigating into swimming, yoga, and now I am thinking boxing, possibly kick boxing, and dance class.

Mostly what I am concerned with is my schedule and what is going to be compatible with my work and school and recovery schedule.

And you think I’m too busy to get laid.

Ha.

I’ll show you.

Speaking of which.

Show yourself man.

I know you’re out there.

If I’m going to meet you, I need an approach.

I know that part is up to me.

If I want to meet someone I’m going to have to be out there in the world.

I’m doing better.

Getting out.

Getting out of my head.

Lightening the fuck up.

But you know, I’ll take your suggestions.

I’ve always done well with suggestions.

I’m not going to do the online dance though, I realize that really has never worked.

I could manifest like I did at Burning Man.

My friend was so funny and perfect when she suggested I write it out in my notebook, “You need the Universe to manifest a guy that will fuck you like a man and feed you steak.”

It was manifested.

I could use that right about now.

Yes.

I am busy.

But let me look at this as self-care.

I am charging the vibrator as I blog.

I told you I was not holding any punches with this blog.

You’re squeamish?

Fuck if I care, take it elsewhere.

I’m sure that there’s a rainbow, fairy tale, princess pants blog out there wishing you well with kitten whiskers and such shit.

And you know.

Great.

That’s great.

This is great.

Getting to be all things.

I get to be this mix.

A fabulous, crazy (at least I know I’m crazy, let’s be real, the ones to be wary of are the ones that say they’re fine), wicked sexy, fun, funny, sweet, kind woman.

I get to be it all.

I get to be spiritual.

And.

Sexual.

I mean.

Maybe this weekend isn’t the right one, Valentines and all.

Then again.

Heh.

I got six days off coming up.

I said it would be a “staycation.”

Maybe I should have a sexcation.

Ha!

Oh I amuse myself.

I don’t know what’s going to happen.

But hey, Universe, I have been given some instructions.

Help a girl out.

Thanks!


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