Posts Tagged ‘catching up’


August 18, 2017



I had two cancellations today.

I went into my internship after work, which I was allowed to scoot out from a little early, with the idea that I would pop over to Gus’s community market and pick up a few things for dinner and then I run into an old friend who I haven’t seen in seven months, maybe eight.

We talked about what I was doing, practicum with my internship, and that we both are located in the same building.

She is a licensed MFT with an office in the building, once a week I have walked past it thinking, one of these days I’m going to run into her.

Today was that day.

We both are going to Burning Man as well.

She was, in fact surprised to see me, “aren’t you supposed to already be up there?”

Common misconception amongst many of my friends, I have often been gone by this time, already landed and working the event.

But not this year.

This year will be my first year without a job to be tethered to.

I have some freedom that I’m not sure exactly how I will fill, but fill it I will, I’m sure.

She and I chatted, caught up, and I let her know what my schedule was at the internship and she asked how they, the institution I intern for, take referrals.

I explained it and she said, “great!  I have a referral specifically for you, I’ll make sure the client asks for you.”


I was blown away.

It was such a nice complement.


I ran into a fellow in my community that I haven’t seen since I started my school program, and he’s got a new office three doors down from me!

It was great getting caught up and he showed me his space and we chatted.

He told me he was really glad to see me, that I have “such great energy, I’m glad I’m going to see you a couple of times a week!”



Nice, really, so sweet to be thought of that way.

That I have great energy, that there are therapists who want to refer clients to me, that I get to do this work.

Granted I didn’t do much work tonight, at least not direct face to face time with clients, but fuck, I did a lot of work today.

Up early and working on scheduling issues with clients and getting a transfer from another intern at the institute, e-mailing my assistant director and director, sending out clarification e-mails to clients and working on getting another of my syllabi printed off and sorted out.



All my classes are published online and I have all my syllabi printed.

I have all my books ordered.

I have a reader yet to pick up but I won’t deal with that until next weekend.

A week from tomorrow is my first weekend of my third and final year of this Masters in Counseling Psychology program.

One more year baby.

I know I can do it.

I did a bunch of reading today too.


Well, not a bunch, but I got through all the reading, 171 pages, five chapters, in the Jungian Dream work book I have for my class and I got started on a homework assignment for the class.


I fucking did homework tonight and my classes haven’t yet started.

This happened to me last semester too, that I had a reflection paper due for one of my classes the first class of the weekend.

It’s not an accelerated program per se, but the month of classes a day time student would take, gets crammed into three days one weekend a month, so the amount of reading is huge and almost every class I have had has a lot of papers due in between the once a month meet up.

It’s a lot.



I can hold down a job while going to school full-time and, fingers crossed, while also doing an internship, which, I have to do, it’s a requirement for the school.

I must have a certain amount of hours to graduate the program.

It’s not horrendous, 255 I think.

Personally, I want to have a lot more than that, and originally I was gunning for the maximum amount of hours that I could acquire while in school.

Then I realized, fuck no.

I want a tiny bit of a life.

I’ve got slivers of time that are super precious to me and I’m not willing to go full whole hog, I need those small spots and spaces to keep myself from losing it while undertaking this endeavor.

So far.

Well, I like I said I don’t have the amount of hours I had thought I was going to accrue over the summer, I still have enough.

More than enough, really.

I have 124.50 hours logged.

Which is great.

I’m half way to where I need to be to graduate the program.


I have two full semesters to get those hours.

I’m going to be just fine.

Things fall together.

Time is spacious and luscious and I don’t have to be anxious about it.

Just like I’m not going to be freaked out by not having all the reading done by next weekend.

I just won’t.


I will have enough, and I suspect I will be far ahead of the majority of folks in m cohort, which seems to have been the precedent I have set for myself before even knowing I was doing it.

“I haven’t even ordered my books yet,” a friend in the cohort told me on Sunday over coffee.

I don’t roll like that.

As each syllabi was published I ordered the books necessary for the class.

Because a couple of my classes were not published expeditiously I haven’t got all my textbooks.


I have enough.

And I’m doing enough.

Getting to have an unexpected cancellation tonight gave me a nice little cushion–finished the reading and the first assignment for one of my classes and roasted a chicken, got caught up with some more calendar stuff, went over the fall school schedule with my boss at work, and had a great phone check in with my person.

I will take the gift.


Really grateful.

And holy shit.

Tomorrow is Friday.



I can’t fucking wait.


Bring it on.

Catching Up

May 25, 2013

With my friends.

Drinking coffee with my friends.

Debating the newest Daft Punk album with my friends, one good jam, and let us all cross our fingers that someone remixes the shit out of the rest of it.

Shit talking with my friends.

Eating spicy jerk tofu salad with my friends.

Eating french fries with my friends and looking out over the ocean from Louis’.

Drinking more coffee with my friends.

To the point that I handed off the last cup I had gotten half drunk to a friend.

“Here, you want some,” I said handing it off, “I can’t take in any more.”

Which is unusual for me, but I could feel the jittery tiredness begin to overtake my body, which means I had gone too far down the route of the highway of caffeine.

“It’s cold filtered coffee concentrate, you will want to mix it with milk,” the barista said.


Yeah, how about some soy milk with that.


And yes, that was concentrated.


Yes, pardon me while I deconstruct that album with you, I can’t help it.

Tomorrow, more catching up with friends, I am super excited to have some sit down time and dinner and see some kittens and just general chatting and life and how are you doing.

Same thing on Sunday.

I get to see a friend who I have not seen in a while as he will be in town doing some work and we’re going to meet up in San Francisco.

Ah, San Francisco, you brat you.

I had a gorgeous day hanging out in Temescal Alley with my friend eating really awesome salad at the Mixing Bowl and drinking amazing coffee at the Dolly Donut, land of the “Naughty” cream filling and the coffee concentrate, and sitting on a bench talking general shite with my friend, then we went to the city and I was just seduced by the beauty of it again.

The way the new bridge is coming along and the glass shimmering towers, ok, who are all you people buying into Rincon One anyway, and where do you get your money, and do you want to share some with me?


I met up with another friend at Church and Market and we went out to the ocean.

“I got a car,” he told me, “and you need to change your phone number contact on your Facebook page, it’s your number in Paris.”


Still we managed to connect and he wheeled me out to the ocean.

My first sighting since I have been back.

“How long have you been back,” my friend asked me earlier.

“Um, just over three weeks, not even a month yet,” I replied, although it feels like it has been longer.  In truth, it has not.  I have just done an insane amount of things in that time and I have been trying to cram as many people in as I can where I can and still do things, like, oh, you know, work.

Or procure work.

“Are you back at the bike shop,” another friend asked me tonight.

“No, they asked me back, but they did not give me a promise of better pay, and since I needed, need, to get on my feet financially, I decided to take on a nanny job that was offered to me,” I replied.

“Who cares where you work, you’re here,” she said and gave me a great big hug.

“You’re back!” He said and swaddled me in a gigantic hug, “you look great!” 




It is really nice to be welcomed back.

A little stressful trying to balance living in Oakland and going in and out of the city as much as I have.  That bridge really is a barrier.  When I am at home, when I am inside, typing away, writing, or sitting down in the morning, again writing, I feel safe, secure, sheltered.

Then I go outside and have to begin a long commute from here to there and that feels like a lot.  It feels like a bit of a struggle.  It feels like something I am uncertain for how long will this work.

“Listen, San Francisco is out of control with rents right now,” my friend said as we crossed over the bridge.  “Stay where you are and enjoy it and see what comes up, maybe you get a car, maybe you find work that can sustain less of a commute, maybe you just sack up and do what everybody else does and BART and carpool and deal with it, everybody commutes.”


But San Francisco, whoa, she was a calling my name today, even with the chilly ocean breeze flying in my face and my desire for a warmer neighborhood, I was freezing in my jean jacket and did not have nearly enough layers on, even then.

I did not want to get on the BART and come back.

However, there is nowhere else that makes as much sense for me right now.

The East Oakland is where I am, but it won’t always be where I am, that much is probably true.  The Bay area is where I will be, that too feels true to me, as far down the road as I can see.

Which truth to be told, I cannot often see very far down it.

Hell, I thought Paris was going to be it for the next ten years.

“How long where you gone for?” She asked reaching out to touch my arm, “and are you staying? You better be.”

“Six months, I was in Paris for six months,” I said and smile, “and yes, I am staying put.”

“Good we need you here, welcome home.”

Thank you.

It’s good to be here.

Can’t wait to see a few more friends tomorrow and regal them with tales too.

Perhaps just with a touch less coffee in my system.

Perhaps not.

I am starting out my day at Ritual.

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