Posts Tagged ‘date night’

Calendaring

July 10, 2016

Seriously people.

This is a thing.

I need to be booking dates with folks weeks out it feels like.

Sometimes it just feels like too much and I want to cancel, but then, I am so glad I didn’t.

I even made it to Oakland today!

I know.

Right?!

Big fucking move, taking the BART going across the bay, I mean, I came from the Outer Sunset, which, fuck, for people in the Mission is a distance.

Makes me laugh, but that’s pretty much what it’s like.

Oakland?

Berkeley?

Cool places, but I’m in San Francisco, sometimes the effort to get to the Inner Sunset is too much on my day off.

But I’m glad I did, did get to the Inner Sunset, did do the deal, did hear some fantastic recovery, did get to be of service to some women I know and did get to share my experience.

Which is only valuable if I pass it on.

Then.

A manicure, a little lunch, and the train downtown to catch the BART to go to West Oakland for a friend’s birthday party and housewarming.

It was lovely.

And sunny!

And warm.

It was really good to see my friend, though it took me a minute to get comfortable with being there, but hey, hand me a baby who is four and a half months old and I’m all ready to hang out all night long.

“You’re really good with him,” the parents were rather in awe and I just smiled and talked with them and said it was no trouble at all, I mean, seriously, the warm, just baked baby smell wafting from his head.

I couldn’t decide if I want to eat him or squash him in my bag and take him with.

So delicious.

So divine.

The soft, sweet, warm pressure of a tiny foot in the palm of my hand.

The heaviness of his head on my chest.

I was in infant heaven.

And the parents, it was adorable, they were so relieved to just have moment to be themselves, I could tell they’ve not had much sleep, but so kind and lovely and it was nice to just hold the baby for awhile.

The mom took a picture of my with her son.

I have no clue what the parents names were, in one ear and out the other.

But the baby.

His name is Maverick.

And he was beyond scrumptious.

Then.

My friend from school showed up with her husband, I had no clue they were coming and it was just such a lovely confluence of people and conversation and suddenly what had seemed, in my head, a chore, was the most surprising mix of new friendships and plans to go dancing and have dinner and socialize.

I like to socialize.

I forget this.

I can be awkward and shy and then, not.

Just wide open and fun and ready to hang out and talk and I was absolutely astounded that it was nine o’clock.

I had been there for five hours and if you had asked me that when I first got there, I would have said, five minutes, I give this party five minutes, then I’m out.

That’s the nature of my disease sometimes.

I just want to isolate.

So realizing that.

I could immediately see that I need to start connecting with people before the summer is over and I’m back in school.

My friend and her husband and I are making dancing plans.

I got a message from another friend about finally getting our asses over to the new MOMA and getting shared membership there.

We are thinking next Sunday.

I also might have a brunch date, Tinder.

Which would be a second date with said gentleman.

No, none of these dates have been in the bedroom, thanks for asking.

Although there is possibility there.

I may have another date sometime this week, but nothing confirmed.

Just out there having fun, y’all.

And of course.

There is the big get together out in the desert coming up that I need to prepare for.

You know what I have done today?

Aside from conferring with the person I asked for help with regarding getting the ticket.

I looked online at parasol’s.

Yeah.

I know.

I didn’t look for a ride up, which I should definitely get the fuck on.

I didn’t look for a tent, which I definitely need, since I have no gear.

Nope.

I looked for a parasol.

Ha.

God damn.

I amuse myself.

I will get on that too.

But today, tonight, I just wanted to get connected with people in my life.

I also might go to the Diana Ross show Tuesday night, just got a message from a friend regarding an extra free ticket.

Diana Ross?

Free?

Hells yes.

I’ll put on my new disco heels from New Orleans and do my hair up real big.

Oh my gosh!

It does look like I’ll be going to Diana Ross!

Holy shit.

And I may have two tickets.

Yes!

I am going to Miss Diana Ross on Tuesday!

How fucking fabulous.

And.

I just confirmed a dinner date and tea, with possible make out, for tomorrow night.

Excellent.

Nice weekend.

And all totally unexpected.

But so grateful to get to do stuff like this, to have connections, to live life, in fabulous San Francisco.

Which doesn’t mean I don’t have plenty of just regular, getting it done, doing the deal, going to yoga, it’s been a minute, and groceries and cooking to do.

That all goes in the calendar too.

Just means.

That I have a rich, full, wonderful life.

Especially when I get out of my own way and let the plans fall to the side and let myself be open to going places outside my comfort zone.

Like.

Oakland.

Ha.

Who knew.

It has sparked a delicious domino affect of friends and plans and goings on.

So grateful.

So happy, joyous, free.

Even when it’s foggy.

Luckiest girl in the world.

It’s true.

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Date Night, For Realz

March 26, 2016

Should equal not writing a blog night.

This is how I justify skipping out of writing a blog tonight.

Except.

Well.

Fuck.

It’s sort of how I unwind.

Like an after sex cigarette.

Not that there was any sex tonight.

A sweet, some what chaste kiss.

A very nice and cozy first date.

A getting to know you sort of date.

A possibly interviewing for a second date.

There may be one, not sure yet, and that’s ok.

I’m just supposed to be light and having fun.

I had fun.

And that’s all that’s important.

A good practice and a lot of honest conversation and there’s some chemistry there and that was nice.

It’s always nice to be told you’re sexy too.

That does not hurt.

More will be revealed.

The best part about it was that I didn’t have an agenda, I didn’t have any expectations and I didn’t have any plan on how it was going to go.

I just showed up.

And the date happened.

In one sense of the word it was really educating, like, oh yeah, the whole point of going on a date is to get to know a person and find out if you want to spend more time with them.

Or not.

Sometimes.

Well.

Sometimes I know right away.

Yes!

I want to spend more time with this person.

As my friend Juan says, “girl do I need to get a tux?”

After my first date.

Heh.

Which is a great indication to me that the date was too hot, too heavy, too fast.

I didn’t feel that tonight, it was just sort of a getting to feel what this dating thing could be about.

Not a hook up, we both made that clear.

We also both made it clear where we were at in our lives and in our dating lives.

That was great.

Loads of transparency.

Anywho.

I’m not interested in reporting every detail, that’s not going to be what my blogging is about, I have learned, the hard way, that I can’t write about other people, only about what I am feeling and doing.

And that if I so choose, yes, I can skip a night blogging if I want to.

I didn’t want to tonight.

I wanted to blog.

I also wanted to be honest in my day, in my person, and in my life, which, often times I can’t always quite get to that point without a bit of self-reflective writing at the end of my day.

I usually have a great idea where I stand in regards to my day, but it is still nice to come home, light some candles, make a cup of tea, and sit here, at my little blue table in my tiny kitchen, under a glowing globe, next to some fresh bought flowers that I got for myself today and write out my day.

Sometimes I feel the most “me” here.

Sometimes, a lot of times, although I don’t always seem to be with holding information, I don’t write about things in my day.

There’s a lot that doesn’t make it into my blog.

But there’s enough.

Enough self-honesty.

Enough awareness, enough of my heart, of my journey, of my experience, that I feel good when I am done with the writing, the work, the getting clean of my day, the unloading and sending it out into the universe to live its little life long after I have forgotten what I have written down here.

So much of what I write seems to be a repetition of themes, ideas, or thoughts about certain aspects of my life that I would appear to be able to substitute one blog for the other in regards to nannying or dating or Burning Man, or what’s up in my recovery this week.

Yet.

I find there is always some fresh perspective or feeing.

Some new growth or learning.

That it doesn’t matter if hey, look, there’s Carmen, writing about dating again.

And yeah.

I’m going back to the way back board.

And just asking out guys again.

Or at least, as I talked it over with my person earlier this afternoon when he asked me what my motives were in regards to my date and I was honest and said, I actually had no agenda, no motives, I was not looking of a quick hook up or to get my ego stroked I was just exploring.

That.

And I also mentioned how I had run into said guy from the past this week and how I was sort of toppled over by some attraction to him and my person was like, so ask him out.

And I know that’s a good thing to do.

Because I don’t want to live in fantasy land.

I’m not looking to be on the prowl and ask out anyone I run into, instead, if I do happen to find myself attracted to someone I just get it the hell out of the way.

Ask, find out, and then go from there.

No stories in my head about the person is probably not attracted to me, no manipulations, just me being me and if you like it, hey, let’s hang out.

Me being me can be a lot.

Although, I dare say, I am a good time.

Not many deep thoughts for me this time of night.

I’m about ready to pull the plug on the day, have a little more tea, an apple, an e-mail check in with a few people.

Then off to bed and the weekend.

Yay!

I made it.

I have a few plans.

But mostly flexibility.

I’m excited to see what it brings.

More fun.

More light.

More joy.

More love.

I.e.

More.

Living.

 

Date Night!

March 20, 2016

I jest.

Work night is more like it.

Being tired night can be included in that.

Why am I at work night should be the title to this blog.

Because that’s where I am.

Le sigh.

It does not happen often that I am here on the weekend and it will not happen again this semester.

I feel a little bit broken.

I realized, on Sunday, as I was sitting in my last class of the day that I had unconsciously, oh what would Freud say about that, sabotaged myself into working thirteen days in a row with one day off and then another five days of work before I had my two day weekend.

Ugh.

Carmen.

I met with my person today.

And no!

Fuck.

We did not finish my inventory.

The lady is having me go deep.

DEEP.

It’s been a little painful, plus I’m sick, let’s just not beat around the bush, I haven’t been running at full speed, it’s not debilitating but it certainly feels vulnerable when I am sick and it’s usually when I am better that I realize how sick I have been.

Or when someone points it out right in front of you.

“Oh, you’re sick,” she said, “ok, we’re going to go easy.”

And did we go easy?

Nope.

But.

Ah.

I got some stuff out.

All the stuff that just does not serve and she promised we would finish next week and I believe her.

But when she asked about today and the working, then added: “how do you feel about that?”

I burst into tears.

Um.

I didn’t see that coming.

And that indicates to me that I am sicker than I am letting on.

So this has been a very take it easy sort of day.

I left the scooter at home, took a car to Tart to Tart, then another to the Mission after doing the deal for awhile.

I also got a manicure and a pedicure and chatted with a girl friend I’d lost a little touch with since she’s moved to the East Bay.

“It’s so affordable over here!” She told me.

Yeah.

I hear that.

I’m pretty damn lucky to still be here.

My driver today asked how long I’ve lived in San Francisco and I’m coming up on fourteen years!

It’s a pretty great run.

I found myself a little overwhelmed though, in the Mission.

It’s changed a lot and I know that and I am here all the time and I work here and I commute here and yet, wow, I just got such an eye full and ear full and the bustle and the weird, well, to me, it’s weird, tourists and gawkers and destination people and the conversations and the money.

Whoa.

There is some money on parade here.

Especially on the weekends.

I mean.

I know that I am in it consistently, but I’m here when the work week is happening and I don’t interact with the community the same way.

Hell.

Who am I kidding.

It was not community that I was interacting with today.

Not that I had much interaction, it was mostly observation.

I am pretty happy that I am not living down in this area anymore, despite occasional longings for a shorter commute to and from work and school.

I never thought I would say that.

I always thought I would wind up in a house in the Mission.

Perhaps not.

Of course, there is plenty here that is still good and awesome.

I was just a bit overwhelmed with it and remembered with a lot of nostalgia what it was like the first few times I hung out here and ate here and went to bars and night clubs and danced and shot pool and played poker in the back room at Dalva.

Long soaks in the hot tub at Osento.

I still, once in a while, think, oh, I should go to Osento then realize it’s been closed for years.

Things change.

And that’s ok.

I don’t have to bemoan it or belittle it either.

It was nice to go to dinner with my boys and we went to Tacolicious and were waited on hand and foot and it would have perhaps mortified me to be there in another lifetime, but in this one I was being paid to eat out with the two most handsome little guys ever.

And.

When I was with the boys, I didn’t notice the hoi poi and the hulllabaloo and the commerce and the scene and be seen.

I just enjoyed walking along a street, Valencia, that I have walked down many, many, many times before, remember New College?

Remember when Ritual opened?

I do, I was there day one, third latte of the day.  Same for Four Barrel, before they were open, grabbing coffees from the back of the store where the roasters were.

Remember the KFC!

A street where I have played and worked and sat in cafes.

A street I have written blogs on, poetry on, had sex on, well not on the street itself and now that I think about it, ha!  No.  I have hooked up on Valencia.

Heh.

Anyway.

I digress and yes, this lady is a little tired.

So.

Movie night the rest of the night and some hot tea and just sitting back until the parents get home.

Then a ride out to my home, my sweet, quiet, laid back, sleepy little studio.

Down by the sea.

But still, yes, still.

In San Francisco.

Where my heart lives.

Where I wear my flowers in my hair.

Where else, would I be?

Well.

Burning Man.

But that’s another blog.

 

I Am Not Writing About Him

August 28, 2013

Nope.

But if you come by my trailer I may tell you a tale.

I will add this as well, I have never not felt compelled to write about someone.

However, some things, well they are not to be shared.

And I am a greedy girl and this is mine to keep.

However, I will tell you about other awesome things that happened today.

At Burning Man.

In no particular order, since it is late and I just really want to go to bed, the following things happened.

-On the way back from lunch, driving along Commerce at 6:45 there was a camp I passed in the Soccer Mom (the name my boss has given the white mini van that she is using for her team’s work at the event) with my little monkey in the back, we passed “Cat Camp”.  Where four people were sitting in lawn chairs meowing at everyone who walked past.

I pulled over the car, popped open the door to the back took my bunny out of the car and said, ‘what does a cat say?’

And he said, “eeyow.”

“AW!”

They all applauded.

His first word, according to mom, was meow and I told that to the two women in their early sixties holding little card board signs that said “meow”.  The husbands, I am assuming they were husbands, all meowed in approval and gave him high fives.

-Tonight I watched a woman sing opera from the top of an art car that was in the shape of a Greek war-horse with flame affects coordinated with the aria she was singing from Puccini.

Then to make it even more amazing, she was joined by a friend who did fan and pole dancing on a pole that was anchored in the middle of the ship and must have risen another fifteen or twenty feet into the sky, and yes had fire spouting out the top.

The opera singer finished with a piece that was also choreographed to coincide with the dancer doing the most astounding and graceful acrobatic pole work I have ever seen.

The entire audience was enthralled and holding onto their breaths.

This was happening out by the airport and as such there were no booming art cars with sound systems that rattle your teeth or raver pant kids mooping their beer cans on the playa.  It was under the dark night sky sprayed with stars for a small intimate group of approximately thirty pilots and friends.

I am still astounded that I got to be there.

They finished with “Bésame Mucho“.

Divinity.

–I found my friend Thomas from Paris, giving his first hug on the morning of his first day on playa.

It was a hug to end all hugs.

Then I hugged the woman that he did a ride share with, a complete stranger he met on a Burning Man ride board, for bringing him.

She told me that may have been the best hug she has ever had.

Happy to oblige.

–I threw ice cream sandwiches out the window of the Soccer Mom as I was driving back to camp to a man sitting on a platform swing chair with his son who were serenely sitting watching all the folks walk past the intersection.

I don’t normally carry ice cream sandwiches on me, I don’t eat sugar, you know, but once in a while I will take an ice cream treat from the commissary and hand it out to someone.

I know this is completely against the “rules” but I figure I haven’t eaten desert at any of the meals they serve and taking to ice cream sandwich bars felt fine in my heart and it sure was pleasing to see the grins on the father and son as I pulled up to them in the Soccer Mom and tossed the cold treats out to them from the open window.

“Catch!”

Then I drove off.

Hit and run ice cream.

Hmm, that’s like a great band name, should I ever decide to start a band.

Either that or a playa camp name.

-Some of the names of camps I passed by on my goings about today: Pink Heart Camp, Red LIghting, Cat Camp, Puking Sparrows (that’s just not a good visual), Cargo Pant Camp, Campoline (trampoline camp), Lazy Fuckers Camp (four fat folks sitting on folding chairs drinking Starbucks Frappucino’s out of cans.  I am not kidding. Total tourists), Camp Stella, Camp Run Free, Costco Soul Mate Trading Outlet, Cosmonaut Camp (they have a super cute mail box with little stuffed monkeys in space suits, complete with little helmets dangling all over it), Distrikt, Duck Pond, Ass Stamp Camp (come on by and we’ll but a tramp stamp on your ass and serve you some fresh sangria!), Sparkle Pony Camp, The Lost Penguins, Free Photo Camp, First Camp, The Ghetto, and of course my camp–Equilibrium, where we do wine bongs and corn dogs.

Well, I don’t do either, and as of yet I have not see a wine bong happening, but they did put out the chair of ‘Center of Attention’.

It is a big stuffed wing chair on a pedestal with steps leading up to it, an arch way over it drapped with swaths of fabric and flowers, and a sign that says, “Center of Attention”.

Anyone who sits in the chair immediately is to receive the entire camp, or whomever happens to be in camp at the time, attention, wherein they are showered with compliments and made to feel the total center of attention.

I saw it happen once today and it was actually really sweet.

-I went to the post office and mailed post card and letters.

Nothing says I love you like a little note from Black Rock City.

-I went to Media Mecca again to register my camera, but it was once again swamped. and I was not able to stay long enough to do the process.

Then I was pulled aside and engulfed in a huge hug from a friend from London and another from Chicago who just had a baby and admonished to come back to Mecca now, damn it.

Afterwhile I was told, come back after hours and don’t worry about it.

Then I ran into Jason from the Pin Hole Camera Project who wanted me to go out and take photographs with them (I rode along with them last year on a complete whim, and because one of my camp mates was friends of his and had the most extraordinary time.)

I said, “Jason, I am just an amateur photographer.”

“So,” he replied, “you’ve got a good eye and besides I want to play a round of frisbee golf with you.  When are you not working? I want you to come out with us.”

Well, as it turns out, I am off tomorrow morning, in exchange for working a long night shift tomorrow night.

No problem.

As long as I have off Thursday night.

I have a date to go see a movie on playa.

Which I won’t tell you about either.

And since there’s nothing else to write about, that I am willing to share, I shall bid you an adieu.

More on the morrow.

Blowing you kisses, but keeping the majority to myself.

Kiss me a lot, as I am afraid of losing you afterwards.


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