Posts Tagged ‘daily routine’

Sneaky Work

August 15, 2017

It’s Monday.

The alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m.

I bounce out of bed, turn on the lights, run to the loo.

Brush teeth, wash face, wander naked to the kitchen, I sleep in the nude, yes, indeed the first ten minutes of my morning are bare ass, drink a glass of water, take three vitamin supplements–iron, glucosamine chondrotin, Flax seed oil, then I go make my bed.

After that I get dressed, put on my shoes, watch, and pull out the layers I plan on wearing.

Hello.

It’s August in San Francisco.

Best to have at least three layers.

Cardigan, sweatshirt, scooter riding jacket.

I lay them out on the bed and then go do my morning reading and say some prayers and ask for some direction and then.

Breakfast!

Today was oatmeal with banana and figs, cinnamon, nutmeg, raw cocoa and unsweetened coconut/almond milk; 1 hard-boiled egg and an unsweetened almond milk latte.

While said food items are busy boiling, cooking, and frothing, I pack my lunch for work and whatever homework and internship paperwork, texts, and syllabi I need for the day.

Today it was solo supervision, so definitely needed my pink glitter notebook.

Who says grad school has to be all seriousness.

Glitter makes it better.

Trust me.

I also packed my Jungian dream book, even though my brain said, what’s the point?

There’s not a spare minute to do reading today.

But, from experience, this is not true.

Times when I think I am going to have hours of reading, I don’t and days when I think, I couldn’t possibly spare thirty seconds to look at a paragraph, I suddenly have unexpected time.

Life happens.

All the time.

That’s what life does.

But.

I find these weird, sweet, odd pockets of time and that’s when I use Stephen King’s advice.

And if you don’t think reading Stephen King is a highly psychological endeavor you’re not reading his works very well.

Anyway.

He wrote this awesome little book a while back, non-fiction, called “On Writing” and it gives his basic formula for what he does and his routine.

First.

He reads.

A lot.

And not his stuff, but everyone else.

His biggest suggestion and one that I took very much to heart, especially after starting grad school, is, carry a book with you at all times.

You never know when you may get stuck in a line or your appointment gets pushed back, or you’re riding the train or the bus or the subway.

I notice most folks these days are looking at their phones.

I read my homework for school if I have down time.

And like I said, I often have a snatch of it when I least expect it.

Today it happened at supervision.

My supervisor lost his keys and had to run home to get the replacement set.

So, my session was cut a little short but, hey!

I have my Jungian Dream Work class text-book.

Whip it out!

I knocked out another couple of pages.

And very glad for it.

I got another text-book in the mail today and I have it already packed in my travel bag for tomorrow, along with the Jungian book, I doubt very much I’ll actually have time to read the two chapters for the class I still need to kick through and have time to get into the next text I have assigned myself.

But.

Well.

You never know.

I just don’t anyway.

Another thing King recommends is that you write everyday.

Yup.

I do that too.

Before I head out.

And when I get home in the evening.

Sometimes I am still not sure how that all happens.

I do the morning writing in one of my Claire Fontaine notebooks from Paris, or whatever notebook I have handy.  I of course have a preference, but I will write on anything.

Although I hate recycled notebooks, the quality of the paper is ass.

I write three pages long hand.

I write about what I’m doing, the things that happened the day before that I don’t write about in my blog

Oh.

Haha.

There’s a few things that I do not write about here.

That all gets covered and rehashed and processed in the morning writing.

The evening, this, my blog, I am also pretty damn consistent.

I used to be super anal about it and I couldn’t not write every day.

That’s eased up a little in recent years.

Years, I say, I have been writing this blog for so long.

Seven, eight years.

I have over 2,200 blogs posted.

And that’s after two different scrubbing sessions where I probably deleted a couple hundred blogs just to make sure I wasn’t leaving a thumbprint or, yes, I had said something unkind about someone in my life.

Typically a boss.

Occasionally a bad date.

Ooh, man I had some bad date blogs.

Which I stopped doing when a blind date stumbled on a blog I wrote, I’m thinking he probably stalked me a bit, let’s be real, and sent me a text which said, “I read your blog.”

Ack.

I had to delete it and make an amends.

I swallowed that pride, deleted the blog, called him, he answered, and apologized.

That was an uncomfortable conversation.

But.

Better than the alternative.

It still was an awful date, but I had said some pretty not so nice things.

I learned my lesson, words can cut deep and it’s not my business to malign.

I stopped writing anything about other people and really tried from that point forward to keep the focus on myself.

I have plenty of flaws I can poke fun at, I don’t need to point out anyone else’s.

So.

That’s the writing routine for the day.

The rest of today looked like work, cooking for the family, doing the baby’s laundry, lots of bouncing around with the baby–he’s teething horribly–playing race cars with the oldest boy and letting the little lady watch Frozen, since she wasn’t feeling well.

I was supposed to go to my internship today and see a client.

But.

She cancelled.

So.

After work I zoomed to the grocery store and picked up some staples and then zipped over the hill to 7th and Irving and hit up the spot, got right with God and got home.

Garbage, recycling, compost out to the curb as a favor to the landlady who is traveling, check the mail, another text-book from school!

I know, it’s exciting, right?

Reviewed my calendar, personal, work, and internship, printed off some forms–I have a new client consult at the internship tomorrow, and ate some dinner.

Checked e-mails, popped over to my “Track My Hours” my BBS (Behavioral Board of Science) approved MFT hours tracker, and added in my hour of supervision from the morning.

And um.

That’s the day.

Not exactly exciting.

But really full.

Hell I even snuck in a trip to the bank and the post office to return a package in between supervision and work, and a run to Walgreens for some more school supplies–two packs of my favorite pens and a new pink folder.

Because.

Pink.

It’s a lot.

But.

It’s a gift.

This life, my life, getting to be this person who is busy and of service, getting to learn how to be a better therapist, advocating for my self-care, taking time to do my own writing, eating well, being kind, just living.

Life is going to happen and I can choose to look at it as a grind.

Or.

Fuck.

I can say, look at my amazing life!

I live in San Francisco for fuck sake.

I have such a bounty of gratitude for what I have.

It awes me every day.

I am.

Yes.

The luckiest girl in the world.

Really.

I am.

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Profoundly Happy

March 16, 2014

“We absolutely insist on enjoying life,” she told me adamantly today from across the table at Tart to Tart.

I am.

I swear.

“That’s your principle today, happiness.”

Enough said.

I am down with the getting happy.

I had a happy day.

I was, I realized, as I was riding my bicycle, slowly, obeying all traffic laws, ahem, through the Irving Street melee of Saturday afternoon parking, shopping, pedestrians, and drunken Irish revelers in green beads and sequined foam green top hats, that I was profoundly, deeply happy.

Part of it is a sense memory from being a child.

I grew up out here, remember, until I was just about five years old, so my earliest memories are of the area, most specifically what I seem to remember the most is the sun, the sky, the smell of ocean.

I was  sailing my bicycle down Irving, once I was through the crazy of 19th to 25th, Irving gets really quiet and it’s such a pretty, straight shot, right to the ocean, the sun was warm on my skin, my hair blowing off my face, the wind cool, and there, just there, a swelling of memory like a song of joy in my body.

This warmth, this sun, this wind, some of my earliest feelings of contentment and joy.

I felt a vast yearning to call my mom and say, thank you for having me in California.  Thank you for not birthing me in Wisconsin, thank you for planting the California seed deep in my heart.

I am glad for my Mid-Western upbringing, I like manners, I like hearing the sound of Mason jars popping when I canned my soup this afternoon, I like that I know how to cook soup and make jam and pie crusts from hand, I like that I know what the sound of snow falling on snow sounds like and the smell of wood burning sharp on a cold night in January.

However, the deep sensual feel of sunshine and wind on my skin that blows in from the ocean is one of my most cherished sensory memories and I was so softened with the emotion of being in the moment with the sun and the wind and the vast, deep indigo expanse of the ocean unfurling in front of me.

I wanted to stop all time, because all time had become right now, right with God, right in my body, right with happy and joyous and free.

Nothing says happy, joyous free, like riding a bicycle down the middle of the road with no traffic, in a new dress, with my hair blowing out behind me and the sun smothering me in warmth and light.

I felt like I was a song.

Just a bicycle ride you know, but something lovely and sweet and powerful in that.

I laughed earlier today as I had gotten up and showered, written, meditated, read,  ate breakfast, drank coffee, did trash and recycling, chatted with the housemate, tidied up and realized I had more than enough time to go grocery shopping too, and I rode my bicycle along the path that runs parallel to Ocean Beach on my way to the store.

How many folks can say that they ride their bicycles to the grocery store to buy laundry detergent while the Pacific Ocean keeps them company?

Not many I say.

Some, yes, but not many.

And I get to have this experience.

I suppose the novelty will eventually wear off and then I will be just going to the SafeWay on Fulton and it will be a chore, but right now, I revel in the going to SafeWay.

Not something I have ever, ever said before.

Most of the time I despise Safeway.

But, I have to say, this one is not so bad, oh, I still have to do my real shopping thereafter, I almost never get what I really need there, but I do get some staples–paper towels, a few toiletries, today it was for laundry detergent.  I think it’s partially because it’s not one of the newer remodeled ones with the weird lighting.

I got my stuff, headed back to the house, unloaded and went right back out in the opposite direction and got organic apples at the Noriega Produce Market, and then jetted it up to 7th and Irving, managing to also send off my niece’s birthday card and present at the post office.

Not bad actions to be taking all before noon.

On my return to the homestead I made soup.

Yup.

Food prep done for the week.

Chicken soup with kidney beans, cannelli beans, corn, carrots, celery, onions, and garlic, big pot of brown rice.  I canned it all up and set aside some in the freezer and boom.

Done for the week.

Toss it in the bag, grab a couple of carrot sticks and an apple and I am set.

So nice to have it out-of-the-way.

Then.

Relax.

Read.

Sit and sip some tea and enjoy the view of the blue sky flecked with the passing raven or three winging through the air over the back yard.

I read for an hour, did some laundry, then headed back out the door around 4p.m. to run up to Noe Valley where I had an evening commitment, but not until after I went and got a spa manicure and pedicure.

I splurged a little and went to the nicer place.

I realize that part of being profoundly happy is allowing for small splurges like this (besides the manicure lasts days longer then when I go to a cheap place) and letting in the happy.

I also allowed myself to buy tickets to go dancing next Friday, there’s a benefit at Public Works for the Flaming Lotus Girls–The Space Cowboy Collective will be playing along with Distrikt and the crew from Opulent Temple–great dance music and girlfriends.

I randomly saw a post on facecrack that a friend was contemplating going and I just decided to say yes and I bought a ticket, then Bonne said she got one and then Jesse got one and Beth got one and Tami got one and holy shit, I got a posse of girls to go dancing with next Friday.

And if that doesn’t make a girl profoundly happy.

I don’t know what does.

 


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