One More Thing

Gotten.

I picked up my third practicum review from the supervisor at my site.

All fives, the best one could score, and two “fours.”

To tell you the truth I wasn’t expecting anything less.

My supervisor has pretty much given me the same score from the beginning.

I’ve not had any interactions with him, he’s not discussed my progress, and this time I had even fewer notes about my abilities than before.

It’s not a problem.

And it is.

I’m not getting the kind of training I feel that I need to really become the kind of therapist I want to be.

I am a good therapist.

I can say that without qualms and I will become better with the more clients I see and the more experience I get.

But.

I’m not being trained at this site, there’s really no theory being used except take what you like and leave the rest, which is good, up until a point.

I was talking with my therapist about this today and what it was like to work with my other supervisor who was amazing and taught me so much that I am still in awe of the experience and I realize, already missing him.

He was hard to show up for because I had expectations about myself and wanted to show him that I was capable and smart and good.

He got all that and he reflected back honestly where I needed work, where I needed boundaries, where I was doing well, where I could grow and how I could do that.

My current supervisor does not do that and I had the feeling today when I picked up my evaluation that I won’t be there all that much longer.

Oh.

For a little while yet.

Or maybe with fewer clients.

I just sense that I need to be getting more and I’m going with that gut feeling and I’m going to start actively looking for a private practice internship.

There are somethings I need to do, get on the list serve at CIIS and look for supervisors taking on interns.

Reach out to people I am interested in working with.

The professor I reached out to last night got back to me and let me know that she was not taking any interns at the moment, but were she I would be at the top of her list.

She also said that she would forward my name on as an intern to any supervisors she thought would be a good fit.

She encouraged me to look into private practice internship and gave me the impression that I was indeed on the right track doing so.

My therapist said the same thing, she felt that it wold best serve me and gave me some resources.

I am excited.

I am in a place of transition and I am completely ok with the clients I have now and the schedule I have, but I realize I could be better served, learn more and have better guidance elsewhere.

I am so grateful for my practicum site for all the flexibility it has and for the wide range of clients I have gotten to see, the diversity of cases has been awesome.

I also appreciate that I don’t have to do a lot of paper work, that’s been pretty big, I just am recognizing that there is more and that I feel confident at this point exploring my options when I am well situated where I am.

I don’t have to leave, I can explore and take my time and find a good fit.

I just need to look about and ask questions and see who may be available.

I have two other former professors I would love to work with and I think  I will reach out to both of them.

There.

Just reached out to one.

Excuse me while I draft another quick e-mail to the other.

And done.

That felt good.

Very proactive.

And that’s what I have to do.

Take little actions and see what happens.

What my therapist remarked on today is that I don’t sound anxious.

And I’m not!

I’m excited.

I feel like I am moving forward in a positive way and although I don’t know the exact direction I’m going or what door to go through next, I feel like things are unfolding.

And really.

All I have to focus on is what I need to do next to get all my paperwork into school.

This Saturday I will have my group supervisor sign my paperwork.

I will be taking all those signatures and the evaluation to school with me the next weekend of classes.

I will hand them over and find out what I have to do next.

I will need to get my therapist to sign off on my year of therapy, which we discussed today as well, and she’s all set to go.

In fact, now that I think of it, I might as well bring that paperwork into our next session.

Then I can have the last evaluation, the signed forms from each supervisor, and my therapy sessions covered and done.

I’m sure there’s some little bit of paperwork that will still need to get sussed out, but I feel very confident that it will.

Very confident.

 

Choices, Options, Decisions

Home.

It was just to come home.

And I was very much ok with the coming home.

In fact.

I danced around my home feeling pretty happy and complete.

I had a good day at work.

I had a great meeting of the minds after work.

I got asked out to dinner.

And this time I got the feeling it was more than for just fellowship.

I said yes.

I don’t know when we’re going to go, but I feel like we will be going soon.

He had a cold or we might have grabbed a bite tonight.

I decided to opt out of going to my friend’s birthday dinner.

I was already half way towards home and super hungry.

I just couldn’t fathom turning my scooter back around, going the other direction into Friday night end of the week cocktail traffic and doing a late sushi dinner.

I was too hungry.

I figured the best thing to do was ping my friend, extend my happy birthday wishes and head home to eat some tasty dinner here.

I just did and I am quite pleased.

I am also pleased as I have paid my rent for February and I bought myself a few things online from ModCloth for new interview clothes.

Why?

Because I’ll be interviewing soon.

How do I know that?

I got a response to my resume and cover letter this morning!

Hi Carmen!

Thank you so much for your resume and info. I recall meeting you at the practicum fair.

It does look like you might be a great match for our therapeutic community here. I’d like to invite you in for a casual interview.

Please let me know some days and time-frames that would work for you and we’ll schedule a casual interview.

Thanks! 

Whoa.

I had completely forgotten I had even applied.

Hahaha.

The e-mail this morning caught me off guard.

I was not looking for it, just checking my e-mail as I had breakfast and was enjoying some coffee, thinking about what I might me doing this weekend and my plans had changed when I discovered I had gotten my period.

Yeah.

TMI.

Fuck you.

But no, there will be no fucking me.

Canoodle session canceled.

Which I am alright with.

I realized after I had gotten this e-mail.

I am going to need to do some shopping for some interview clothes tomorrow!

Yippee!

I like clothes shopping when I’m in the mood and I have to say, I’m in the mood now.

Hehe.

Super excited.

And fingers crossed we will be doing the interview soon as I would really love to nail down my practicum site and not proceed forward with more open houses and more applications and more interviews.

I responded with times and days and fingers crossed I’ll hear back soon.

I also contacted the third year student in my program, he’s the person who recommended the place to me, and said, I got asked in for a casual interview, any suggestions?

He said, “just go in and be your fabulous self.”

Well fuck.

I can do that.

And though it will be casual, whatever that means, I do feel like I want to show up nicely dressed and coiffed.

Really what it comes down to is that I need a pair of nice flats.

I don’t have a single pair of flats.

Oh.

I have tennis shoes.

Converse and a pair of Saucony.

And I have my boots.

But I don’t see wearing rain boots.

Or.

My Burning Man boots.

Um no.

Then I have a couple of pairs of heels, but I don’t have the appropriate interview attire to go with them, they were bought for dresses which I feel are too dressy for the interview.

And I have plenty of wedges and platforms.

But walking into an interview in 4 inch Mary Jane black suede platforms might be just a bit too much fabulous.

I figure I need to hop over to Macy’s downtown and grab a pair of D’Orsay flats from Nine West, they carry my size and they’re not super expensive, plus they’re cute and I can wear them with other outfits.

Then maybe I pop into Banana Republic and grab a nice pair of slacks or a long skirt, a simple button down and maybe a blazer jacket.

Nothing too fancy, but clean, simple, pulled together.

The site is in the Mission and it’s a Community Therapy model, so I don’t think any one is going to be over concerned with my outfit, but I know that it’s better to come in looking tidy then roll up in jeans and Converse.

Even if I end up doing the practicum hours in jeans and Converse, which is a likelihood, I will feel better being well suited for the first get together.

I’m going to get up, go to a 9 a.m. yoga class.

Shower.

Breakfast.

Coffee.

Scooter up to 7th and Irving, meet my person at Tart to Tart at 12:15p.m.

Then another lady at 1:15p.m.

Lunch.

Then a manicure and some lunch.

After lunch I’ll head downtown and do the shopping.

Hopefully it won’t take too long and then I’ll head to the NOPA do the deal and maybe if I’m feeling it, hang out and do some fellowship, grab dinner at Brenda’s if folks are going out.

Sunday will be yoga, taxes, homework, cooking for the week, reading, write a paper.

And if I get it all done I will be taking the suggestion to go see a movie.

I may not though.

And I’ll be ok with that.

I did promise myself that since I wasn’t going out tonight to my friend’s birthday gig I would try to get out tomorrow and connect with people.

Keep myself from isolating and be in the stream of life.

Because I suspect I’ll be starting practicum soon and I want to have some fun to balance out all the school stuff.

And though there is more work to do.

I am excited.

I am happy I got a response to my resume.

And.

I’m happy I got asked out to dinner.

Yes.

Yes I am.

The Upside of Isolation

Happened today.

At work.

While the baby napped.

THE BABY FUCKING NAPPED!

Oh sweet, sweet Jesus, thank you God.

Oof.

I packed my school books this morning thinking why bother, but do it anyway.

And.

Oh.

So nice.

She slept for three hours.

Three.

It was a dream.

I had spent the morning at the house helping out by being there instead of going out to the park as they had a lot of deliveries coming in and the youngest boy was home from school.

I did not have him the entire day though, which also helped to facilitate the reading during nap time, Grandma came over and took him out for a long late afternoon lunch

Thanks Grandma!

“Are you the one doing all the tidying up?” She asked me when she dropped him off later in the day, waving at the spotless kitchen.

“Yes, happy to help out,” I said and nodded.

“You are a god send,” she concluded.

Thank you!

That’s always nice to hear.

Especially since I’m going to ask the family to write me a letter of recommendation for my practicum application.

I wasn’t able to address it today, too many things going on, but I will be able to on Wednesday.

“We’re going to cry, literally, on your last day,” the mom said today as the baby and I were blowing kisses at each other.

Oh!

I was so touched to hear that, such nice validation.

And.

“You’re the only person she likes better than me,” the grandma said in wonder as the baby hugged my legs and we played hide and seek.

So nice to hear all the compliments.

It’s nice to know that I leave my job better than I found it, sort of recurring thematic in my life, I wish to leave things better than I find them.

It doesn’t always work that way.

But.

It’s an awful nice feeling that just be being a bit proactive and energized I was able to help out the family, cook, clean, sort, facilitate the dog walker, the grocery delivery, and a furniture delivery.

Plus.

Get the baby down for a nap after feeding her lunch and still have almost three hours of quiet in the afternoon to read.

It was heaven.

And.

Oh.

Wait for it.

I finished!

I FINISHED!!!!

Oh my fucking god, I finished my reading for the next round of classes.

That is officially a first.

I am done with my reading for the last weekend of classes for the semester.

It feels so good.

So, so, so good.

Oh, I still have all the papers to write, but that will come and with extra time to navigate with them, the having the reading done is such a huge blessing.

My next weekend, the one coming up, I can focus on writing papers and getting myself prepped for the big Psychopathology paper.

I plan on writing two papers this upcoming weekend and I can take my time, devote a little every day to the Psychopathology paper.

If I had my druthers I would turn it in on my last day of class for the semester and then have nothing left to do.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

It might be a reach.

It might be a stretch.

But you know, I’ve been doing the yoga again, so who knows.

Heh.

Signed up for a class for tomorrow morning before I go into work.

It’s been nice having it in my routine again, even if I’m sore, it’s a good sore and it does seem to help with the general free-floating anxiety that I always have.

That anxiety has gotten so much better.

And now that I know I didn’t have a scratchy head due to stress, well, fuck, life’s a bed of fucking roses.

Heh.

And.

I paid my December rent and utilities tonight when I got home.

In cash.

That felt hella good.

I mean, real good.

It was also nice to hand my land lord a fat envelope full of bills.

I mean who doesn’t like that?

I’m doing pretty well with my finances for the month.

Very happy about that.

I got a little extra left over for Christmas gifts and some for traveling.

And possibly a new coat.

It’s going to be cold in Wisconsin.

Except!

Ha!

I just took out the coat I bought for Paris when I traveled there last winter–the time I had been there it was super cold, when I was living there and I didn’t invest in a decent jacket and so when I went back I made sure to have a nice coat.

A coat that doubled as dressy enough to go to the ballet as well.

Which was the only time I wore it out.

The weather was far warmer than anything I had previously experienced in Paris during December.

So.

Yes.

I have a coat, a nice dark plum swing coat with big black buttons and a flared collar and long sleeves that will do the trick quite nicely.

Yay.

And I was all bummed when I was out this early evening in between work and doing the deal I hopped into three, no, four, different stores in the Inner Sunset and found nada.

Not as though most stores in San Francisco are going to sell coats meant for a Wisconsin style winter.

I sort of figured I would be buying something mid weight to layer over my sweatshirts.

Nope.

Don’t need to at all.

My plum Paris swing coat is perfect.

I have to say, not a bad way to start my week.

Not bad for a Monday at all.

Super grateful for all the gifts in my life.

And I have a few.

Seriously.

Just Add Another

Thing to an already full plate.

But fuck it.

I signed up for an American Red Cross CPR/First Aid/AED child/infant/adult class for the last day of the month.

I don’t have any free time really in August.

August is going to be interesting.

And actually I do have a couple of odd free dates in the first week of August, so if you want to hang out and you’re not doing anything the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th, hit me up.

We can do the MOMA.

Get coffee.

Hang out.

Make out.

You know.

Whatever.

Heh.

My certification lapses at the end of this month so I was trying to book in for one of those days that I will be free, but the classes weren’t available and I ended up having to sacrifice a Sunday afternoon for the class.

That being said, it may work out just right for me.

I was thinking I would do the class, then grab a BART and take the train over to Oakland and go to a friend’s housewarming/engagement party.

Looks like a lot of my friends will be there and since I’m already downtown, the BART doesn’t seem all that untenable and it will be nice to get out of the fog and be in the sun, catch up with old friends and see my friend’s house.

It’s hard to believe that I am making plans for the end of July and that August is like right there.

August looks like this: school retreat, out of town working for the family as they spend a couple of weeks in Sonoma at Glenn Ellen, then BurningMan, then back and right into the September with a Mike Doughty show on the 1st and my first weekend of school on the 2nd.

The month is like booked.

Crazy.

I reflected earlier though that August for me, even when I wasn’t in school, has always been pretty booked.

At least for the last nine years it has.

Burning Man takes up a lot of head space, physical space, preparation space, emotional, spiritual space, space space.

It just is a lot.

I have no answers still in regards to rides and shelter and this and that.

But.

I did get a notification from UPS that my signature was going to be required for a package delivery tomorrow.

Of course I’ll either be at work or I’ll be at a morning yoga class.

Which I committed to going to, so maybe I should go sign up for that.

Hang on.

Ugh.

It’s not a teacher I’m very fond of.

However.

It’s yoga and I’m going.

Done.

I’m working a slightly different schedule tomorrow so that the mom and dad can double date with some friends.

The said 8/8:30p.m.

So I’m just preparing myself for 9p.m.

Although still hoping it will just be 8p.m.

Then I can make my evening commitment at 8:30p.m.

But if I can’t make it, I wanted to make sure that I did something outside of work other than work, thus yoga.

And it’s good to be as regular as I can with it, I can tell it in my body now and I like how I feel when I’m getting to regular classes.

Three is the optimal, though I would like to be doing four classes a week, it just hasn’t always worked out that way with my summer time work schedule fluctuating as it has been.

This weekend will be nice and busy too.

Meet with my person Thursday after work for a little doing the deal and a chicken dinner at Firewood Cafe.

Then Friday, doing the deal, a party, and…

Saturday, meeting another one of my people, it takes a village I tell ya, at Tart to Tart, then up and over to Noe Valley to record a podcast.

Coffee after with a friend.

7p.m. commitment.

Then.

Who knows.

Probably catch up on sleep.

No Saturday evening things happening.

That’s a little open.

Sunday, yoga, which I hope to squeak in on Saturday too, but might not.

Then two ladies back to back and after a coffee date and walk down to the beach.

It’s date 1.5.

We met last week Friday at Public Works for the Desert Heart dj collective party.

He was with friends, I was with friends, but we danced a bit and hit it off and he got a hold of me yesterday and said let’s hang out.

So coffee and beach walk date.

And the weeks.

They do pass by.

Time it does so fly.

It’s amazing how quick.

It’s amazing how full my life is.

I am blessed to have so much happening.

A full and grateful heart, a full and gratitude filled life.

It’s awful nice.

I’ll have one more week of “normal” work hours next week, then start shifting into the August scheduling.

Which reminds me.

I also need to figure out how to get to the retreat and back for school.

That shouldn’t be too hard though.

Although, that being said I still need to work out a few details since I’ll be going to work from the retreat.

I may actually end up coming back to San Francisco, renting a car, and then driving back to Glenn Ellen the last day of my retreat, depending on when it lets out.

Ack.

Lots of stuff to juggle.

But.

Also lots of fun.

Despite the school year quickly approaching I am looking forward to seeing friends from my cohort and getting re-acquainted.

And it will be a much different retreat this year as I know the folks in my cohort and I know the space and the facility.

There will be an easing in that should be much softer and gentler than the landing I made last year.

Especially, as I recall that getting a ride there was crazy pants.

The person I was supposed to get a ride from canceled last minute, like minutes before I was supposed to go.

Fortunately I was working with a lady when I got the text and she just said, “hey, I can take you,” and that was that.

See.

Things will work out like that for me and the event will as well.

For me and everything in my life.

As long as I keep in fit spiritual condition.

I will be taken care of.

I always am.

Seriously.

One of Those Weeks

And I just don’t care.

Things spill.

Pink hair dye in my purse.

Blueberries in my basket tonight, all over my liner bag on the back of my scooter, splashed blueberry juice all over my pink riding jacket.

Ugh.

Who cares?

I don’t.

I don’t give a fig.

I’m having a great fucking day.

Heh.

I just scored four tickets to Mike Doughty’s September 1st Living Room Tour here in San Francisco.

One night.

Someone’s living room.

27 people?

30 people?

Intimate like.

I messaged my three people who are Doughty fans and said, “save the date bitches.”

I don’t even give a fig that it’s the day before my first day of classes.

Fuck it.

I’ll be a little tired.

But I will be happy.

Oh so very happy.

Live music, getting to hear someone who I really like and respect, musically and from my own private personal view, we have a few things in common, a few friends, it feels special.

I’m really grateful and I didn’t blink at dropping the money on the tickets.

I love my people and I am super psyched to get to share the experience with them.

Now.

Not one of the bastards has responded to the wildly ecstatic message I just sent them, but I ain’t worried.

If, for some reason, any or all of them can’t go.

I am sure I will find three other Mike Doughty fans that would love to go.

I can actually think of a few that I should probably message and say, hey, there was 27 tickets available when I bought my four, which means 23 are left, and um, in San Francisco, that’s not going to last long.

I just had this pricking in my thumbs.

My blueberry stained thumbs.

To go check the website and see if the tickets were up.

And voila!

They were.

I whipped out the wallet.

Didn’t think twice.

The only thought I had was keeping it to myself until tomorrow when I see my ladybug at the cafe to do the deal, but I didn’t think I could keep it under my hat for that long.

I am not the best at keeping a surprise.

I mean.

I can.

I suppose I could have written this blog about how despite prepping for the poetry podcast yesterday and feeling really excited about it, that the recording was cancelled.

I suppose.

I mean.

That was what I was going to write about.

Also that I didn’t find myself all that wrapped up in that either.

I was like.

Cool.

God’s got better plans for my time that day.

Yoga.

Doing the deal.

Sex.

Heh.

Who knows.

All three.

Although not all three at the same time.

Ok.

Anyway.

That signals to me that I am in a good place in my life in general, that when something unexpected happens, getting this cancellation, I can look at it and say, well, something else is supposed to happen and here’s to knowing that what ever that thing is, it’s the thing that is supposed to happen.

Just like getting blueberry juice on everything, I mean, shit everywhere, I didn’t really get upset, just pulled the stuff that needed cleaning and tossed it into the wash.

Came inside my little studio.

Hopped on line.

And, ayup, bought tickets to see a small, intimate little show of one of my favorite artists.

Luckiest girl in the world.

And.

Tomorrow’s Friday.

Yes.

Plus.

I’m listening to the Cars greatest hits and that puts me in a good mood too.

I mean.

That synthesizer.

So good.

You’d think that I would want to listen to Mike Doughty’s Stellar Motel, but this is what called and when I feel a call, I got to go with it.

“What is this,” my lover asked (which one, wouldn’t you like to know).

“Wooden Heart, Listener,” I replied.

I love the album, but have found that nope, not everybody does.

In fact, the disdain for which someone says something about the music I’m wanting to listen to can be off putting.

“What is this shit?” An ex-boyfriend, “can you change this?”

I might.

But I might have to dump you first.

I was listening to a jazz mix which had some old Soul Coughing songs from Ruby Vroom on it.

You know that band Mike Doughty was the lead singer for, the band my long time boyfriend took me to see at the Eagle’s Ballroom, the album that gave me goosebumps when I first heard it and I resonated so hard to it that I still can tell you all the sense memories that I get stirred up even writing about it.

Yeah.

That relationship didn’t last long.

“Do you like this,” I asked my lover, the asker of the Wooden Heart album, “do you want to listen to something else?”

“Anything but this,” he replied.

Fucker.

So I put on Thomas Dolby’s The Golden Age of Wireless.

Take that.

Ah music.

How I love thee.

I remember when I first came out to San Francisco and was reading through an SF Weekly and all the music shows that were listed and I was just like a little gluttonous piggie in heaven.

I probably do not take advantage as much as I thought I would.

But.

I still love a live show and I was telling a date last weekend about a pen ultimate San Francisco night I had with a friend many years back where we went to see Tron at the Castro Theater, then hopped on his scooter and burned rubber to get to the Fillmore and we rocked out like maniacs to Gary Numan.

So close I could see how angry the lead guitarist was, and jaded.

So close I could see the black eyeliner on Numan blurring underneath his eyes.

Magic.

Goldfrapp that same year on her tour for Supernature.

God damn that was a good show.

I really must be on a synthesizer kick, now that I am thinking of it.

Heh.

And I still haven’t heard back from any of my friends.

Oh.

Ha!

I just remembered one of them is out of town camping, well, hopefully he’ll be happy when he returns from being off the grid to the knowledge of another good show that we get to go to.

As for me.

Whelp.

I got the weekend relatively free.

What’s happening my people?

Let’s.

Shake it up.

Shake it up/make a scene.

That’s right, I said
Dance all night
Go go go
Dance all night
Get real low
Go all night
Get real hot
Well, shake it up now, all you’ve got.

Shall we?

Um, I’m Not Available

Ugh.

That was uncomfortable.

My boss changed up my schedule.

Again.

It’s been a little rocky, this start to summer, but as I am constantly reminding myself, be flexible.

I am certainly trying.

I even managed to get in a yoga class before work today.

I worked 1-8p.m.

So the mom and dad could go have a dinner date.

I’m down with dinner dates and happy to facilitate.

It does mean feeling a little off kilter since I go back into work and do 10a.m.-6p.m.

But so it goes.

However.

When I was talking with her earlier this afternoon there were things a foot, summer camp scheduling and re-scheduling and adding on another camp for the oldest boy.

And.

Um.

Ha.

I made plans for the weekend.

Like I bought tickets to New Orleans, I ain’t going to be there.

Fuck.

That was uncomfortable.

“Oh!  I hadn’t confirmed that we were doing that,” the mom said.

And she was right.

Fuck I hate when the other person is right.

Don’t you know who I am?

Dang it.

However.

I made the decision, bought the ticket, and was actually hoping to keep it under my hat, because I am still a touch uncomfortable discussing certain aspects of my life with my employers and not everybody gets why it would be super fun to go hang out with a bunch of sober people in another state for a weekend.

“I bought a ticket to go visit friends, thinking that I would have that Friday off,” I told the mom.

“I’m not expecting to be paid for that day, you already made that clear, the Friday was not to be included in my pay for the holiday,” I said, “I made plans to be at the airport for a red eye on Thursday.”

The mom was not happy.

And.

Neither am I.

But.

I bought the ticket, paid for the Air BnB, and I’ve already invested close to $900 in going.

I’m not not going.

I have been really flexible with them and I have taken on extra work and not asked for compensation.

Some times, all the time, fuck me, I have a hard time asking for what I need.

I need to know what my schedule is going to be.

I thought I would be ok with the week to week change up and I think I can be, I believe I can be, but it’s super hard to make life plans and then constantly up end them.

I have ended up re-scheduling and canceling three times on a lady I work with on Tuesdays.

I don’t like doing that and I was thinking I’m going to have to schedule all the ladies I work with to the weekends.

“If you need work, you let me know, I know tons of people,” my dear friend from school mentioned.

And I’m not thinking of changing up jobs, but I do have options, I need to remind myself, and that means also knowing my worth.

I am worth a lot.

I do an amazing job.

I love my charges.

I take good care, I’m smart, I’m high energy, I am a good snuggler.

Heh.

I sound like a personal ad in a newspaper.

Anyway.

It was awkward, but I’ll be taking off that time and I get to work at clearer communication with my employers.

That’s always a sticky point with me.

Like I said, I can be challenged when I have to speak up for myself.

I am the only one responsible for me and I realize that again and again and again, and when I was upset about some work stuff last week, oh did I do some inventory, it really all came down to me.

I was mad at me for not speaking up.

I had been keeping quiet about something and I finally spoke up to my people and I knew that “they” were going to “make me” do something.

“Oh, no, that’s not right, you need to say something,” came one response, “but let me just check in with…..”

And.

From another.

“Did you have the conversation with the mom yet?”

Ugh.

No.

The last few days have been a lot of busy at the house, it’s getting repainted and the scaffolding went up today.

Plus, the family is leaving for a trip on Thursday.

I have not, in fact, had the opportunity to speak about what has been on my mind.

I don’t even want to write about it here.

I feel ashamed.

Hmmm.

How interesting is that?

I don’t like it when I play the victim and I’ve cast myself in the role at work.

I had a play date last week that was not a play date.

It was another charge for the day.

I wasn’t offered compensation and I felt really weird about it.

It’s happened before, play dates where there’s not the parent of the other child or children present, and it is often times easier, on one hand since the monkeys all distract each other.

And.

It is also stressful.

Being responsible for another child.

And the not being compensated doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s really me not asking to be paid for my time that bothers me the most.

If I believe that I am a valuable asset, I have to ask for more.

It may be called a play date, but being saddled with another child for four hours felt like four hours of extra work.

I’m not comfortable writing about it.

I feel tender and stupid and taken advantage of, by myself.

I do have some compassion for myself too, I know why I do stuff like this, I get afraid to speak up, fear of confrontation, fear of, yes, I know it’s stupid, but, fear of getting fired, which always leads me down this fat rabbit hole of losing my job, losing my home, and being a homeless woman sleeping in the bushes.

Thank God for inventory and other people’s perspective.

Also.

That I am a total fucking people pleaser and if the people I work with tell me to do something I do it.

Which sounds like I don’t have free will.

No.

Actually I don’t.

I have a disease that wants me dead and the solution is to not listen to my self-pity and fear.

That’s the way of death.

I know.

Dramatic.

Right?

Anyway.

That’s how it works these days, I don’t want to use or pick up, but sometimes I just want to self-sabotage what ever I am doing and all it means is that here, again, is something to work on and to grow around.

Pain.

“They” say.

Is the touchstone to all spiritual growth.

Guess I’m having a growth spurt.

Seriously.

Fuck It

Except.

Fuck no.

I have seen a lot of folks saying fuck it recently and honey, that shit is not pretty.

I may have a struggle now and then with the sads or the fuck its but thank God, that generally passes pretty quick and when I am in a pity party, well, I’m all about myself.

Nobody else can get in there.

And with that in mind I confirmed that I will be going to a birthday party on Saturday.

Because I can’t let myself be isolated.

Just because I am busy with school and the work and the stuff and things, I can’t isolate myself off behind a wall of text books and the fear excuse of I’m too busy.

I’m not too busy.

Yes.

Fuck.

I am busy.

But not that busy.

If I even have an inkling of the thought that I could hook up with someone, which, hell, please, I am constantly thinking of hooking up, oh, and the fantasy got killed hella quick around the one person I was attracted to.

He’s dating.

Ugh.

I could use a desperate man.

Maybe.

I just have to keep showing up.

That’s all.

I just have to stay sober.

Nothing else, nothing else is more important.

“They’re all down at the bar,” she whispered, “I’m not going there.”

Nope.

No fucking way.

That is not my solution.

So.

When the busy gets in my head and I feel overwhelmed, all I have to do is remember that I am perfectly ok if I get into my bed tonight, my sweet, warm, cozy bed, sober.

Then it’s a perfect day.

It doesn’t matter if I haven’t figured out how to get my papers written, fact is, I always get them kicked out, despite the horror show that my head seems all hell bent on showing me.

The work gets done and I’m going to yoga tomorrow, so kiss my ass scary brain, everything is going to be just fine.

Fortunately for me I am surrounded, in the middle of the boat, covering my commitments, meeting with my people, staying on the beam.

Even when the head gets the crazy on fire feeling, I know it’s not real, it’s just a fantasy, it’s just a way for me to manufacture some adrenalin so I can get a “natural” high.

Bah.

The feelings I have are big, but they do pass, and as I walked out of the room tonight, a tiny bit disappointed, I mean, god damn he is a hottie, but then again, so is the girlfriend, at least I knew and I could clear my brain with it, the fantasy got squashed so I can be available to whatever reality is in front of me.

When I am day dreaming I’m not paying attention to what is right in front of me.

So.

Back to the reality board.

Back to basics.

Which I haven’t really dropped at all.

I am on my own, but I am not on my own.

I have fellowship, I have faith, I have friends.

And.

I get to see them this weekend, which is what I am telling myself, that I need to see these girls, women, I need to be connected to this community, I need to and I am ok with the fact that it doesn’t leave me as much time to work on school work as I would hope.

The fact is I could and can find time elsewhere.

The time it happens without me getting in the way of it if i just take care of the other basics first.

It’s not like I’m frittering time.

It is the opposite.

When I am having a little get down with the ladies, or my guy friends, friends in general, it alleviates the stress of school too, and I realize that so many of my friends, doctors, nurses, therapists, teachers, they all went through some type of intense schooling to get where they are at.

I am not unique and if they can get through it, so can I.

I feel like I am burning brightly right now.

And.

I want someone to burn brightly with me.

There is nothing wrong with this feeling.

I’m just not going to dampen the fire because I am on my own.

I don’t have to know.

I am open to it all.

I open to dating, sex, kissing, making out, hooking up.

Or.

Being entirely my own woman and just going to yoga and working and doing the deal and meeting with my ladies and going to school.

I don’t have to have either/or.

I can do both.

I have the abilities to hold many things.

I have a big heart and there is room for it all.

Art.

Creativity.

Recovery.

Work.

Working out.

Working it.

Dancing.

Friends.

All the things.

ALL.

I am a glutton for experience and life and doing and going.

I know that I have to have balance, hello yoga, writing, prayer, etc.

It’s all there to be had.

Life.

It’s fucking awesome, even when it scares the crap out of me, which it does often.

But then, I’m on my scooter and the California poppies are nodding in the wind and the green grass in the park is bright and the skies are blue and I am zooming down the road having the time of my life.

Alive.

Yes.

Getting to do this thing, not saying fuck it, not checking out, even when I want to check into what that might look like, I can fall down, but I can’t check out.

Not an option.

Fuck it is not an option.

Singing at the top of my lungs to music that makes my heart happy?

That’s always an option.

Until my land lady kicks me out.

Heh.

I know that I am taken care of and I am excited for the weekend and for the newness and the more will be revealed.

Because more always is.

And you should know by know.

I love more.

Always have.

Serious.

 

The Days Just

Roll by.

It helps when I get up and get to yoga class.

And do my writing.

And do my reading.

And say my piece and ask for help and make phone calls and reach out and work and eat a good breakfast and drink my coffee.

Side bar.

Rau I love you.

Oh my God.

Finally a beverage I am willing and happy to pay $4 for.

Not that I really want to pay that much, but this shit is on point.

Especially for a lady like me.

It’s an organic cold pressed raw cocoa drink–NO SUGAR, nada, zip, zilch, zero and it tastes like chocolate, well, um because it really is just that.

It is amazing and it is a tantalizing incentive to get me to go grocery shopping when I don’t always feel like it.

I had a little wiggle room after yoga and my shower.

I decided to pop into Rainbow and get a few things that are nice for me to have around the house–nice candles, nice lotion, some apples, and a Rau.

Mmmm delicious.

I was wondering what to write about tonight as nothing is really happening in my life.

Bwahahahahaaha.

Ha.

Fuck me.

I have plenty to do: recovery, work, school, yoga.

Dating when I can squish it in there.

Making time to see friends.

I was on the phone today with a darling friend and we were trying to figure out when and how we were going to make seeing each other happen as the tentative plan to connect fell through for this upcoming weekend.

Mutual friend birthday party happening.

I did decide to go, despite the looming amount of writing that I need to do for the next weekend of school, because I need to connect with the ladies and my friends and I need to be flexible and I said I would, so I am.

That being said, I am sad to miss my friend.

So.

A date to the DeYoung is on the menu to see the Oscar de la Renta exhibition.

I saw it in Paris, but I will happily see it again, I love Oscar and I am guessing that there will be different things on display, I saw more than just de la Renta at Hotel de Ville (City Hall), there was a huge fashion archival being shown, so I expect that this focus will show me some things I haven’t had a chance to see.

Besides.

A museum date with my dear girl friend is definitely a necessary thing for me.

And I found out that I will have some wiggle room in my schedule next month.

The family is going to be going on a little trip and though I will be working while they are away, it will be much shorter hours.

One day I will be there from 9a.m. to 2 p.m. to let the house keeper come in and clean.

I will do errands and laundry and then have the day to myself to hang out and work on homework or maybe go grab a cup of coffee with a dear friend or two and catch up on stuff and things.

That’s the Monday.

The Tuesday I have off completely.

The Wednesday I will go in for a half day and cook food in preparation for the family coming home that next day and the boys being home on Thursday and Friday, both days where I will be working early and leaving early too.

It will be a wonky week, but it will have nice pockets of open time to do things and see folks.

April 11th, 12th, 13th.

Monday through Wednesday.

Working but not really working.

I’ll probably do some self care things, some yoga, maybe a trip to Kabuki.

But basically, hey you, friend, if you’re around Tuesday, April 12th, I’m free.

Let’s kick it.

Yeah.

I know.

That’s my life.

Making plans to hang with my people when and how I can.

Two more weekends of school though!

I’m making it through.

The yoga is definitely helping.

I had a good class today, the teacher today is my favorite, although I do quite like all the instructors I have had.

I cried again.

It always surprises me when that happens.

Still.

Parts of me just must hold onto grief longer than I even realize.

I had a moment of sadness and the tears they came and then I also had a sweet whisper of serenity, breeze right in behind it– big, big, wide open sky, high and bright, and a vision of a field of blue forget me not flowers.

True love and memory.

Sounds about right.

So grateful for letting myself show up on the mat and not have judgements about myself and my body and the process, just showing up and doing it.

I have been taught well.

Show up and do the work.

Let go of the results.

See.

I always looked to yoga as a sort of way to fantasize about a kind of body I wanted to have–a “yoga body.”  You probably have an idea of what I mean: cut arms, slim belly, tight ass, long legs, sculpted, like.

And that is just not me.

I am always going to be a little soft in places.

Doesn’t matter.

It does not matter one little bit.

Instead I have gotten to have the feeling of being lighter in my body because I am not weighed down by grief that I don’t have to carry.

I feel lifted and my heart more open and I see the corn flower blue sky and I don’t think about it pressing down on me, I see myself reaching up towards it.

I see the light.

I am the light.

The lightness in my step, in my heart.

There.

All the work and all the revelations and just sometimes the walking out the door and being humble enough to be a beginner and not know what I am doing and try it anyway.

“Carmen!” She whispered excited in my ear as she was helping me settle into pigeon pose, “this is amazing, you have gotten so much deeper into this pose since you started, you’re doing great.”  She adjusted my left shoulder and gave it a squeeze and left me happy, exhausted yes, but happy, on the mat, in my pose, pushed further than I had before, without it being a horrendous stretch.

Just finding my breath and sending it out into my body.

I thought, quite seriously, about going again tomorrow morning.

But tomorrow is not typically a day I go, it doesn’t quite sync with my schedule and I want to let myself sleep and rest.

I did push it in class today and yesterday and I am glad for it, my body feels it, but I can stand the rest and I don’t want to push too hard after this long cold has finally loosened it’s grip on me.

They day will be what it will be.

And  will show up for it just like I showed up for today.

In the rising sun.

With.

Sweet.

Kindness.

Cornflower blue light.

And

Forget me not.

Love.

Bronde Ambition

I went and got the roots touched up today.

Despite three people looking at me like, crazy lady, you’re hair is on point.

And.

Yes.

Especially with the trend for a big root shadow.

I had me some roots.

I got the dark hair.

However.

I am planning ahead.

Oh yes I am.

Each time the hair gets a little lighter, the current blonde, or bronde if you will, gets a little bit softer and lighter and blonde gold and caramel and it’s super pretty and it will all go towards finally getting the perfect dusty rose pink shade I have wanted to do for ever.

I’ll lighten it one more time, we’re being pretty cautious, my hair can only handle so much before it will just break off, but one more time after this and then a soft dusty washed out pastel pink for the Burning Man.

Yeah.

I know.

It’s March.

But.

I’m making my plans.

I ordered a new shoulder holster recently as well for the event.

I have one from last year, but I decided to upgrade a little bit, get something sturdier, I’ll be wearing a baby a lot of the time, one of my little charges will be 3 1/2 years old and the other will be about 9 months–which means having a baby carrier on.

Which means a holster for my essentials instead of my utility belt.

Which I will also have.

Oh all the things.

I guess it’s because it’s a special anniversary for me.

My 10th burn.

I am really lucky that I get to do this, it still astounds me that I have gone so many times and that I get to go again this year.

I was talking to a friend who made it a part of his contract with his new job that he gets two weeks off in August to do the event.

I have another friend in LA who does the same thing.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more than a few of us out there with that requirement.

I was trying to explain it a little to my colorist.

For me so much of it is about the art and the amazing heart and total commitment that the artists and their crews put into the work.

It is astounding to me how much work goes into making some of the pieces, into building the city, just the effort of preparing myself for the playa is a job, then I think about the creative process and the amount of effort expended and it blows my mind.

It is an extraordinary thing to get to be a part of.

So yeah.

I’m planning my hair for it already.

Because that’s how I roll and because I love to have fun and it’s a part of me having fun.

I have some work to do, of course, before the main event.

I need to get through the rest of the school semester.

Two more weekends of classes.

I was working with my person today and Tart to Tart, kicking out the last of the inventory and so glad to be done with that bad boy.

The only thing left is my sexual ideal.

Oh wouldn’t you like to know.

Heh.

But I got the rest of it out and one of the things that was listed under my fears list was the fear of not making it through my first year of graduate school.

I actually laughed.

I couldn’t believe that I had written that.

I am not afraid of that any longer.

In fact, a lot of the stuff that I am normally freaked out about just seem to fade out.

I didn’t feel a huge shift in my perspective, but I just felt grateful to be doing the work and I know often times that the effort put into doing this kind of writing and inventory is later revealed to me.

Just to be free of those things that impede me and my growth.

Freedom.

Free to be who I am, free to be light and flexible and open to new experiences.

Or hair colors.

Ha.

Free to love.

I was awed by my person’s perspective on my grief bubble bursting in yoga.

I told her what had happened, while I was in the heart opening pose and how I just wanted to send this man I had all these feelings about a bubble of light and love and how it burst open on me and I was flooded and the grief and sorrow melted away.

The catharsis that happened.

She smiled.

Then she said, “that is love, that is true love, you sent him love without expecting anything in return.”

Oh.

My heart.

That’s the thing.

So often I have love for someone and I want something in return.

Not realizing that there is nothing to be gotten from loving, but the act, the simple act of purely giving love and not expecting anything, finally, allowed me to move through it all and come out the other side.

I don’t know this foreign country.

It is wobbly and not steady in my eye sight.

Something akin to wearing the new glasses I have had for the last three days.

“Progressives.”

The nice way of saying “bi-focals.”

They have take me a bit to get used to and I am finding my perspective constantly being altered, sometimes it makes me feel like I am falling or dizzy or just a little bit off kilter.

I have found myself slowing down.

Looking at things differently.

This love.

Freely given, the amazing grace of it.

The things that I gain when I am not looking for some sort of pay off.

Extraordinary.

The life I get to live even more full of juicy goodness.

And tomorrow.

I sleep in.

No commitments.

Nothing.

No plans.

I am being completely flexible and not going to be planning a thing.

However it plays out.

I am available for it.

Complete and present.

And just a tiny bit.

Blonder.

Bronde is the new black.

At least for today.

Heh.

Date Night, For Realz

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.