Posts Tagged ‘crazy’

You Look Radiant!

June 13, 2017

My neighbor said to me as I was parking my scooter and securing her for the night.

He’d just open the door to the fenced gate and perhaps it was the sunlight hitting my face, or the big smile on it, but it was sweet to be acknowledged and I smiled harder.

I’m happy.

I feel really good.

Today was a good day.

Most days are, let me be honest, but I had just secured a new person to work with this evening after work and I feel like she and I are going to be a really great fit and I was relieved and happy and felt like I was being carried and taken care of.

“God has not brought me this far to be dropped,” I told myself this past weekend when I was still processing all that had happened, the what’s and whereof’s and why’s of being let go when you have been told that you’re the perfect, well fill in the blank.

When someone tells you you’re doing it perfectly and then let’s you go, it stings a little.

Be that as it may.

I am not perfect.

I fuck up all the time.

I’m human.

I am a spiritual being having a human experience.

And humans are messy and silly and stupid and hard-headed and stubborn and crazy, at least this human is.

I’m grateful for all the messy and the learning, especially learning how to communicate and not to take myself too seriously.

I heard something amazing today.

AMAZING.

From my supervisor while we were in session.

Slight sidebar.

Nothing says starting a busy week at work and internship better than getting up extra early to go to school to get that one piece of paper that the supervisor has to sign so that I can be registered for another class this fall semester.

And I went back to school after meeting with my supervisor to make sure it was filed correctly before I went into work and did my full shift.

Yeah.

Like that.

Anyway.

We were talking about communication and how a client communicates with us and my supervisor quoted Lacan to me.

It just about fell off the couch.

My supervisor quoted, “every time we speak we communicate less than we want and more than we know.”

Holy shit.

Story of my life.

I had never heard that before and it resonated with me on a very deep level.

I am communicating all the time and most of the time I’m not saying what I want.

I have spent years, decades probably, trying to say what I want and so often I am not getting it all out.

I am afraid to say what I want for fear of not getting it, so I’m not going to ask.

That, however, presumes that the person whom I’m engaged with can read my mind and well, that maybe magical thinking, but it’s certainly not logical thinking.

No one can read my mind.

And yet.

There are clues.

There are clues in my voice, in my body, in the way I respond to someone.

It’s pretty obvious if I don’t like you and I want to say it’s very obvious if I do.

There are grey areas and I have found that when I don’t like someone it often times has to do with seeing some characteristic in the person which reminds me of something I don’t like about myself.

Which, I just realized, makes me realize what I do like about myself when I think about people in my life whom I do like, they must represent parts of me that I like.

I have smart, capable, hard-working, brilliant, funny, loving friends.

I must have some of those qualities myself or I wouldn’t be involved with such high-caliber people.

I just wouldn’t.

Like attracts like.

So I was happy, so happy, to get to hear this woman tonight who has what I want and is smart and busy and educated, grateful and full of solution.

I’ll take some of that please.

And then happily pass it on.

That’s what I do best.

Share my experience, strength and hope with another person so that they may do the same and the learning deepens and the love grows and my life expands and grows and it is extraordinary.

I have extraordinary people in my life.

I also have an awesome job.

It was so good to see the family I work for today, I missed them and was grateful that everyone was feeling much better.

I got lots and lots and lots of hugs and I got lots of compliments on the food I cooked and loads of snuggles and it just filled me right up.

So much love.

I am loved.

And I get to love right back.

It’s a pretty amazing job.

So.

Yeah.

Radiant.

Full of light.

Oft times full of bullshit too and perhaps a touch of crazy, but for the most part, I really do feel the grace rather than the drama.

Grace over drama is one of my favorite acronyms for God.

Great out doors is another.

And.

Good orderly direction.

There’s a few more, but those are my tops.

I feel grace.

I feel full of grace.

I feel graced.

And am.

I’ve not been dropped.

I have just been carried somewhere unexpected.

It’s so lovely I don’t always know what to do with it.

But.

I am happy.

And that, in the end, is all that matters.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

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Friday

October 1, 2016

I finally made it.

Tomorrow is my first day off in two weeks.

It feels surreal and already gone, wasted, like I didn’t do enough.

Sigh.

Sometimes the days they are like that.

But.

I did do a lot today and though I didn’t make it far past the church on the corner across from Safeway, it was enough after work fellowship to feel like I was plugged back into the matrix.

It didn’t hurt that I got a new phone today too.

The rice thing didn’t work with my old phone, I didn’t actually think it would, my phone was submersed for too long in the water, but hey, I tried, and having a day off from my phone was not a bad thing.

Weird.

But weird is ok.

I think that’s how I feel right now.

Just a little bit weird.

Not a bad thing, but just a little turned around, a little unsure the lay of the land.

And probably just a little tired and needing to decompress from the work week, the school week, the stuff and things, the phone.

All of it.

I am super glad I did not buy a phone yesterday as well.

The difference in the place on Mission Street versus going to the Radio Shack in the Inner Sunset was night and day.

First difference was they had a similar model Iphone to the one I dipped into the toilet.

I had an Iphone 5C.

I was able to get an Iphone 5S.

And.

It had a big promotional, so I got it for half of what I would have paid at the store in the Mission which was pushing me to sign up for a lease to buy the Iphone 7.

No thank you.

I mean.

Sure.

If I had a lot of spending cash, but I don’t really need it and the cost seems to out weigh, and I mean out weigh by a lot,  my needs for it.

I’d rather go get my butt back to yoga class and sign up for another six months of studio time then lease a new Iphone 7.

Besides.

I just wanted to buy it out right and not have payments over my head.

So I was super grateful to find out that though I thought I was being flip when I told the man at the store, “I know you don’t carry five’s anymore, but I don’t need a seven…”

And he replied, “actually we have some 5S’s in stock and they’re on promo and you’ve got an upgrade.”

And he got me a great deal.

Half, actually more than half of what I was looking to pay.

And.

The second biggest difference in the two stores, this customer service guy went over my contract with a fine tooth comb and got rid of some superfluous things, got me unlimited talk and text and got me a plan that is $10 less a month than what I’ve been spending.

That was awesome.

Even when I realized I had no contacts in my phone once it was turned on.

Although I did have some texts and was able to get a few numbers programmed in.

Then.

Later today someone made a comment about “why didn’t I back up to the cloud” and I was like, all fuck you in my head, then, I remembered.

Fuck me!

I had.

And now, this is weird.

I did it two days ago.

Two.

The day before I dropped my phone in the toilet I backed it up to the cloud.

I have no idea why, it just occurred to me out of the blue and I did it while I was at work.

I mean.

I have had that phone for years and never once thought to back it up to the cloud.

Then the day before yesterday I decide to do it, its super simple, not sure why I hadn’t before, and when I remembered that I had in fact done the back up I went into my new phone connected to the cloud.

And voila!

All my contacts back.

Fuck yes.

That was super nice.

Also super nice was the realization that I was trying to go to fast again.

And going to fast yesterday was part of the problem with dropping my phone in the loo.

So.

I cancelled an appointment that I was scheduled to be at to do the phone thing and not feel pressed for time and remade it for next week at the same time.

I got a positive response, confirmed and then when the phone wrapped up easily and quickly and I was paid and out the door.

I thought, fuck it, I’m getting my nails done.

I had the time and I don’t want to be out riding around a lot tomorrow on my scooter.

The crazy is already happening.

Hardly, Strictly Bluegrass is going on and there are a lot of extra drivers and people in the city and I just want to keep a low profile.

There is the off-chance I might take the scooter over to a garage of a friend who has a part for a cosmetic fix on my scooter that I didn’t have my shop take care of.

But.

That’s not confirmed.

The only thing that I will definitely do is hit my 7 p.m. spot and I’m thinking about going to yoga in the morning and committing to that now that my brain doesn’t seem so on fire with life in general.

I also picked up my favorite new perfume from Tiger Lily today, Rose Flash, and had a nice time chatting up the ladies there who remembered me and were happy to help me out with the task of smelling really fucking good.

I smell delightful I tell ya.

Tomorrow I think I shall be chill.

And I will probably do some reading for school.

The towering stack of text books to my right is not going anywhere soon and I need to read them.

All of them.

And write some papers.

Although I may not this weekend.

I may just do as much reading as I can and let the papers go until next weekend.

Anyway.

Friday.

I made it.

Thank you God.

Sound of me sighing.

Good night.

Sleep tight.

Don’t let the bed bugs bite.

Those fuckers have big teeth.

heh.

Bonsoir

March 14, 2015

Indeed.

It is a beautiful night out there and I am planning on wearing some sandals tomorrow.

The energy is full on rut out there as well.

Folks all gussied up.

High heels and spring dresses.

Boys out in their t-shirts with no jackets.

The bar scene a riot of activity already.

The line at Safeway for booze off the hook.

FYI shopper in aisle one through three you cannot self check out your booze, nice try underage girls.

I had to laugh when I was checking out.

The folks in front of me had a bottle of Tanqueray, the big guy, and a bottle of Shwepp’s tonic, a small guy, you might need more mixer there hey.

Or not.

Then there was me with, I kid you not, 8 lbs of apples and a gallon and a half of unsweetened vanilla almond milk and some organic black berries.

After me, divided from the haul of apples I purchased (they were so pretty and they’ve been on sale and I don’t usually buy apples from Safeway, but I tried this one and was pretty impressed–the Envy–reminds me a bit of a Jonagold but slightly denser and sweeter) and almond milk was the gentleman behind me.

One handle of vodka.

Four large bags of gummy bears.

FOUR.

And not the small packet, either, rather the large like 64 oz ones.

In addition, one pack of Dixie cups.

All I could think was that it was some sort of party shot–Gummy Bears and vodka anyone?

Otherwise, the man needs some serious help.

Speaking of serious help, a lot of crazy out there too, not alcohol crazy, although that might be playing a factor in the mix, but crazy crazy.

I had to call the cops on a woman at the park who was having an episode in the public bathrooms at Mission Pool and Playground.

I wasn’t sure if she was getting high in a stall, but she was profane, like Tourette’s profane and loud and she was scaring the crap out of the boys.

Which, though I am deep in the potty training phase with the youngest boy, is not how I want to induce him to poop.

I asked her to quiet down and she screamed and said call the cops and go gentrify the Mission some more.

Hate to break it to you lady, I’m not the one gentrifying the Mission.

I’m barely paying rent in the Outer Sunset.

Suffice to say when the swearing and screaming didn’t tone down, I did call the police.

She freaked out and almost attacked me, but rushed out of the bathroom instead.

The five-year old was spooked, but neither boy saw the woman and both of them accepted my explanation that she was sick and the police were going to come and help her.

Which they did.

She ran out of the bathroom, dashed through the park, then into the American Sign Language after school program.

At least the kids didn’t hear 18 different shades of “fuck” and “cunt” and “bitch.”

Grateful I didn’t have to have a physical alteration and more grateful that the police officer had Jr Police Officer stickers for the boys and they shook their hands and introduced themselves while I made the statement.

I may be pausing in this blog to take a phone call from the Frenchman.

It’s been interesting watching this unfold.

I’m, so far, mildly interested, but mostly because he’s so literate and artistic and says all the right words about French art and cinema and he did theater in New York and it sounds so completely different from my ex that I am intrigued.

I am still gunning for a sober guy.

FYI.

But I’m going to let myself practice with guys outside the fellowship.

He wants to meet me and is intrigued by me and that’s nice and I’m sure he’s sweet.

However.

Holy shit that was too long a phone call.

I just got held hostage, although, I must say I did participate in the allowing myself to stay on the phone too long.

It was nice to talk to someone who knows Paris and reminisce a little about my time there and actually speak a little French.

Just enough to get me in trouble as they say.

Ah dating.

I said I would meet for coffee, but I think we are not quite the match.

It is nice to talk to a man about art though, he’s a professional lithograph restorer as well as a frame maker and artist with a little studio in a cottage in Pac Heights.

Rent control oh how I am jealous.

Dating.

I don’t care if I do and I don’t care if I don’t.

Right now it’s about being free about trying it and seeing if anything happens but not having expectations or hopes.

Just being me and acting if it appears appropriate.

This phone call was practice.

And if I am bored, which I was a little by the end, it’s a tell.

So perhaps not a date.

I don’t know.

It could be that I am tired too.

It’s been a full week.

All the emotions around graduate school, busy week with the boys, lots of bicycling, I’m tired and that’s not much of a surprise.

I am going to sleep well tonight.

The ocean is soft in the back ground.

The night is warm enough that I had the majority of my half hour conversation on the pack patio in my pajamas and bare feet.

I have a fresh sparkly pedicure ready for sandals tomorrow and a baby shower to go to in Berkeley.

I’m going to play the rest of the day by ear, but I suspect I will be around the Inner Sunset around 6 p.m. and possibly back out to the beach by sunset.

I’ll be enjoying the down time no matter what.

Bonne nuit.

My chickadees.

And happy fucking weekend.

Sorry.

Crazy lady rubbed off a little.

Bearing the Unbearable

July 27, 2013

The discomfort of being uncomfortable has me wound up.

Until I let go a little steam, or a lot, and the pressure eases off and I go back to being crazy and kookoo and loud and don’t look now, ma, emotionally walled up again.

“Have you written about any of this?” John Ater asked me over dinner tonight.

Which one might have thought I was eating a vale of tears, not shedding them, as I stolidly ate through my brown rice and steamed veggies with shrimp (no sauce) and crumpled my face into my cloth napkin time and time and time again.

“Not really,” I admitted.

I don’t really write like that.

I don’t often take out the pressure valve.

I don’t often let out the steam.

I put on the face and everything, yeah, everything is alright baby.

“I am enamoured of your ability to be emotionally vulnerable,” he said to me tonight as his own face lost the control of being in control, and tears smoked out his words.

I am enamoured of you for saying that, thank you, my heart goes out to you-and-out to you some more (please let me hug you again that was worth the entire evening of tears, that moment, your face buried in my hair) and I am grateful that I could be emotionally out there so someone else felt free enough to go there too.

I showed up tonight and said a lot of shit I just did not feel like saying.

And for the life of me, I don’t remember what I said, but in some unknown, miracle of a way, the unburdening of the burden happened.

Somewhere between Red Jade restaurant, Our Lady of SafeWay and the Church Street Cafe, I lost the burden of the facade and just dropped into myself and who I am and allowing myself to be present.

I pause to look around, a cat meowing in the living room in the house I am staying at this weekend in San Francisco.

A house sitting gig in the city I said yes to and because I said yes to it I also said yes to put me on the guest list for the club tonight, I will show up and dance at your set.

I am not at Public Works.

I am in Cole Valley.

I will stay in Cole Valley.

I don’t want to get on my bicycle again and venture back out into the night.

It is wet out there.

I got doused twice riding my bicycle through the park, the sprinklers are going full blast, once in the face and once on my ass, and now being wet and cold and emotionally emptied, the last thing I want to do is get on my bike and go back to the Mission and got to the dancing at the place.

Although I would and I have debated taking a cab over and back.

Which would completely negate the cover I am not paying by being on guest list times two.

If I had a vehicle other than the bike I might, if I had discretionary money, I might, but the fact is, I am probably going to finish this blog and just drink some hot tea, watch a video and wind it down for the night.

I expended a vast amount of emotional energy tonight.

I believe I left most of it, my emotional baggage, in the crumpled maroon napkin at the restaurant, but just in case there is any wobbling about, the last place I want to be is in a night club tonight.

I don’t care if that makes me old, or un-hip, or whatever, it just is what it is.

There was a time when I was put on the guest list I felt so obligated to go that I would show up no matter what.

I do want to dance, I won’t deny that, but maybe I just want to dance around in the kitchen.

I had a hallucinatory memory or a deja vu or an episode.

A future forecast.

A moment of magic.

An I don’t know what, yesterday in the kitchen of the little girls house where I nanny at in North Oakland, a moment dancing with her in the kitchen of the house with the sun streaming in and for a moment it felt like I had never been happier in my life.

I was having some sort of memory of dancing with someone, someone special, holding me in his arms, in the sun and dancing, then my heart swelled, the music swelled, the little girl lay her head under my chin, I breathed in her warm little scent and I twirled around the room.

I realized after that I could not pin down the memory, or the person, or who was holding me, or what it reminded me of, but I wanted to.

Then I thought, this is a future moment.

This has not happened yet.

But it will.

“Are you saying that you’re broken,” John asked me tonight, an astute eyebrow raised, “because, that’s what I am hearing.”

“Fuck, I don’t know what I am saying, I don’t have any ideas, I can’t stop the loud in my head and, I, listen,” I said changing gears, “I saw this man tonight, barefoot, crazy, walking down the street in a hospital johnny talking loudly to himself.  He walked in front of the eyeglass frame store on the corner of Church & Market and right in front of the sign that said, ‘Summer Madness Sale’.  And I thought, he just went shopping!”

“That’s what this feels like, I bought some madness and I am pissed off and how can I return it?” I finished, sighed, cried some more.

To be honest I am not sure what all the fuss was about.

And it’s always about the same stuff, I am not where I am supposed to be.

What if right here is where I am supposed to be?

What if there was nowhere to go and no one I was supposed to be?

What if I am exactly where I am supposed to be?

Would that be ok?

I think it might.

I think I will let it.

I think I gave up tonight.

I let go.

I went to the summer Madness sale and said, “Yes! Give me some,” but the fact is, my kind of crazy is always for sale, there’s nothing special about it, it’s just a facet of who I am.

I am, however, not who I think, I am how I act.

I am the actions I take.

I am the vulnerability I put out there.

I am love.

Loved.

Lovable.

Worthy of love.

That is bearing the unbearable.

I am uncomfortable with it, but that does not matter, I want the reward.

I will continue to do the work.

 


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