Posts Tagged ‘Copy Central’

Home Free

January 1, 2016






So not lonely.


I am not at all.

I had a wonderful day, despite there being some unexpected hiccups and some tears at the start of the day.

Sometimes I wake up sad.

Makes sense.

I was sad when I went to bed last night.

The nice thing.

I noted this morning as I was writing and it overcame me again, a wave of it, that if I let it happen, not stifle it, not restrain it, just let it happen, it passes rather fast.

I had my cry.

I wrote my heart out.

Then I got on my day.

Important thing to get on in my day.

A scarf.

I texted my friend who had stashed my scarf in his carry on and then I totally forgot it.

“Oh shit, I’m going to need my scarf today,” I said, out loud, because yes, I do talk to myself.

I randomly shot out a text, figured I would have to make a special trip, only to receive, in short notice, a message that he was in the hood on the way to the store, five minutes.


And that might have been the only perfect thing in my day.

At least this morning.


It all was perfection.

Even down to this, quietly sitting in my in-law while the neighbors pop champagne and holler and the horns are blowing.

Hello 2016.

Nice to meet you.

Let’s be friends.

I am not ashamed, upset, or annoyed.

I am at perfect calm and ease.


The far cry from where I was when I got up.

I think part of my issue was, not that I admitted it right away, that I was planning on doing homework all weekend and I was feeling that I was isolating myself before it had even begun.

Turns out God had different plans for me.

After I had my cry, my oatmeal, my coffee, and lots of writing and getting right with God.

I had some perspective and some honest gratitude.


I got online and got annoyed.

The syllabi for my classes were incomplete, the readers were confusing me, what books do I need to buy, how much is that going to cost me, why isn’t there an easier way to do this?

I commiserated via text with one of my cohort and between the two of us, we made some good leeway.

Enough so that I was able to order all, I believe, although I am not entirely sure, my texts for the semester at a nice tidy sum of $198 on Amazon.

It would have been double, perhaps triple that had I ordered new texts, but I got all used, so that was helpful.

Then I got myself bundled up.

I mean bundled.

Tank top, long sleeve undershirt, light sweatshirt, heavy sweatshirt, scarf.

On top off all that, my motorcycle jacket.

The helmet, the riding gloves, and off into the cold breezy San Francisco afternoon, on down Lincoln, around the park, past the Pan Handle up and over the hills to downtown, then onto Mission Street, past the bums and crack heads, the junkies and whores, the party people, the homeless, the twisted, the crazy, then, onto the pretty and the shopping district, the Metreon, Yerba Buena, the high end hotels, the MOMA, and all the little haunts and spots I used to know of so very, very well, once upon a time in a land far, far away during my brief and almost fatal stay to Cokelandia.

On down to Copy Central between New Montgomery and 2nd street on Mission.

I used to buy Van Heusen work shirts just a few doors down from there.

I used to do a lot of things in that neighborhood.

Today, I just wanted my readers for my Multi-Cultural class and my second semester of Dubitzky and Psychoanalytic’s.

And guess what?

They weren’t ready.

I got the text seconds after I was standing in line from my friend, who had called, smart lady, to check on the status of the readers to find out that they weren’t done and wouldn’t be done until Monday.

Well fuck me.

I was pissed.


It passed quick.

Really quick.

I also received another text almost directly on top of that inviting me over to a friends house for New Year’s Eve dinner.



I’m in.

I am not going to be doing homework after all.

I got over the angry right quick and as I walked out of the shop I noticed I still had time on the meter so I popped into Walgreens and bought a bunch of pens and post-it notes.

Then I had a moment.

A perspective change.

What if the only reason, really, was that I was downtown to see how far I had come.

From being a scared, coke head, struggling waitress–yes it was fancy, but so too was my habit–trying to figure out how to use and make rent in San Francisco.

To being a successful graduate school student–I got back my first grade from last semester–A–riding her own scooter (paid in full in cash) who had just gotten back from an amazing week in Paris with a dear friend, who has an awesome in-law in the city, with rent paid in full and a week early (thank you very much I want to stay in my sweet little in-law), with a good paying job (one that I will have my raise go into affect on January 1st) with children I love.

What if that was the only reason?

It was enough.

It was an amazing little piece of insight.

I took it with me to see my person.

I also got a manicure, because, hello, I can.

We had a lovely lunch where the was much hot soup and hot tea and yes, some hot mess tears, but so much growth, love, and perspective for myself.

“You see the lows, you see the challenges, but you need to acknowledge the good stuff too,” he said peering at me to make sure I understood.

“I suggest you write some of that down tonight when you take stock on what your year has been like.”

Well, when it’s put like that.

Best break up ever, kindest, gentlest, tears on both sides, and hugs.  Yeah, I still had to do a lot of work and I cried my head off, but I also did an immense amount of writing and grew so much and threw myself into what was next.

I also applied to graduate school.

I got into graduate school.

I won a scholarship for $30,000 to go to said graduate school program.

I met and made amazing new friends.

I was flown to LA first class to visit the MOMA and ogle art for a weekend.

I went to Atlanta and ran into old friends and made a lot of new ones.

I went to Burning Man for my 9th year in a row.

I dyed my hair pink, a couple of times, and got awesome new glasses.

I bought a brand new scooter all in cash.

I wrote a lot of poetry–some of which I got paid for! ¬†Making it my second time receiving $1,000 for a series of poems (the first was for a manuscript award I got in undergrad).

I went to Paris.

I mean.

Come on.

For a week and saw friends and places and things from before and also did things that I had not done before (the Jeu de Paume, the Roue de Paris), and bought lots of notebooks and got an awesome tattoo, and ate nice food, and walked everywhere, and practiced my French, and got lost and got found.

I got a raise at work, a great year end review, and an extension on my nanny contract for another six months.

And best and most important.

I stayed sober.

Nothing was more important or significant than that.


When folks ask if I have a resolution.

If I have a wish.

If there is something in my “bucket list” that I need to do.

It’s just that.

Stay sober.

And what ever happens.

I will be ok.

And it will be lovely.

Like the dinner tonight with new friends and old, a sweet cat rubbing her face on my hand, the laughter until crying, the warmth and good food.

The simple things.




I can’t think of a better start to 2016.

Happy New Year!

It’s Starting to Look A Lot Like Graduate School

July 22, 2015

Despite the curt, not too pleasant, and dare I say, preachy e-mail I received today from the financial aid department in regards to the inquiry I sent out yesterday.

I got your point lady.

You could perhaps not be so rude.

But then, what is that?

Me, being the director.

Me, wanting things my way.

Me, me, me.

It’s all about me.

How funny that I am going to get a Masters in Psychology so that I can become an MFT and help others.

Or not funny.

The only way through, I feel, so often, is by helping others.

I popped a resentment when I read the e-mail which basically set me straight with no shortness of sharpness, again, I remind myself, no need to shoot the messenger, restraint of pen and tongue and e-mail.

I restrained myself.

Instead I did a quick spot check inventory and made some calls and when I heard myself checking in with a friend over the phone while I was out with the boys at the park kicking around a bunch of soccer balls on the courts at Mission Playground, I heard it.

I was whining.

It wasn’t blatant, but I could hear it in the playback of the conversation, we were cut off and I’m actually rather glad I didn’t continue to hold my friend hostage to my whiny pants.

I got right with God instead.

I did the rest of the work and I called a bunch of ladies and asked how they were doing and I listened and, why yes, my perspective changed.

How very nice it is.

To take contrary action.

That the solution is not focusing on my problem, but helping someone else.


I do have to ask for help too, it seems, despite wanting desperately to not have to rely on others, I do have to get help.

And apparently I have to get professional help.


I sort of recalled that being a requirement of the course, and of course, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

If I want to be a good therapist, I should go to therapy.

I have to accrue 50 sessions of therapy.

I am not cognizant if I have to do this on my own dime or if it’s part of the tuition package.

It is, however, a requirement.

I found the document when I was printing out my syllabi for school today on the printer at work.

I joked with my employer that I may have to forgo the extra money for the hour of overtime I have worked this week to pay for the paper.



It was a relief to have made some forward movement.

I can see that I need to continue to take further action, there’s always going to be an action to take, just the ordering of the books, getting the syllabi, the interaction with the financial aid department, the humbling of myself to ask for more help, the acknowledgement of the lack in my upbringing when it comes to things of this nature.


I’ve been in school already and it’s not even started.

I’ve learned a shocking amount about myself, my fears, my desires, my hopes and how to continually let go of shame and reach out when help is offered and accept it gratefully.

Not always gracefully.

But gratefully, yes.

I, of course, did not print out all of the syllabi, I realized later as I sat in The Church Street Cafe before heading over to Our Lady of Safeway at 7:15p.m.

I had missed two of them.

However, the printing of them and seeing them in front of me and opening up my laptop, I took it to work today, was all the action that I needed to get started.

I booted up Amazon and I started plugging in the books in the search engine.

I bought all used.

I bought 7 total.



Not too bad.

I paid it out of my own pocket instead of stressing about getting down to the financial aid office and asking for a book voucher to buy them.

I still need to acquire the readers for all my courses.

Every course has an additional reader included in the materials.

I am going to head down to Copy Central on Saturday and get the class readers and get going on the reading.

I also forwarded the Master Promissory note signature and paperwork to the financial aid department, nicely, oh so nicely worded that e-mail was, burn ’em with kindness.

I suspect one day I’m going to go into the financial aid office and have myself a good chuckle when I meet the woman I’ve been interacting with the last couple of days.

I am certain she is harmless and frankly I cannot imagine a more thankless job than being an administrative assistant in a financial aid office at a college.

I am certainly no the only loony student who has cornered her on the phone or via e-mail I am sure.

I can’t think of a worse job, maybe meter maid.


Things they move a pace and it’s nice to see it coming together.

And I may still get to go camping next week.

I had thought I would be leaving for the Grand Canyon on a long road trip on Saturday, but as it turns out, the family I work for had a change of plans and won’t be leaving for their vacation to Lake Tahoe until Tuesday.

My friend asked if I could play hooky on Friday.

God, don’t I wish.

I can’t call in sick though, or ask for a private day off.

I haven’t any more sick days and my vacation days are all lined up.

One week for the retreat for school.

One week for the “retreat” out in the desert in the High Black Rock Desert.

It’s a spiritual event.



It is.


Instead of viewing the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, I’ll be visiting Mission and 2nd Street to pick up my course readers and getting a jump on the reading.

Fingers crossed all my books for the courses come in by the retreat.

I realized that because I choose regular shipping I’m going to be cutting it close.


I’m ok.

The books are ordered, the course readers exist and I know where to get them–thank God the copy store is open on the weekend, and I have an idea of what action to do next.

I’m going to school, yo.

This is really happening.

I’ll probably keep saying that until I’m in my second semester, just FYI.


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