The Miracle

That is sleep.

My God.

REVELATORY.

How much better I feel from having gotten a full nights sleep the last two days.

I mean.

Fuck.

I feel like superwoman.

I”m also a little afraid that I won’t be able to wind down from this good, good, good feeling in time to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, I do have supervision in the morning before work and that means an early start to my day.

But for right now.

Damn.

I felt really good today.

And yes.

A teeny tiny bit sassy.

I rocked some blue glitter lipstick for the fuck of it all day.

Because sometimes a girl has to work it.

Plus I had my Sunday evening commitment up in the Castro and I need to bring it for the gay boys.

“Girl.  I am LOVING the blue lip,” was said to me many a time tonight.

My pleasure to provide the glam.

I love going up to the Castro and being fabulous.

Fuck.

I love being fabulous in general.

But even though it is San Francisco, there is still a lot of tech culture here that seems to translate to some pretty fucking boring ass clothes and looks.

Lots of yoga/work out gear.

Which I suppose is fine if your going to the gym, but all day long?

Please.

Some style.

Sundays I also feel like I can be a bit sassier too as I’m not seeing clients and I’m not working.

I don’t have to find that oh so fine balance between what I can wear as a nanny and then what will translate to seeing clients in the evening.

I typically find something neutral, black or grey and then bring a long a pair of my Fluevogs to slip into when I finish my hours with the family.

My shoes elevate my outfit and make me feel like I’m stepping into my psychotherapist persona.

One day.

One day in the not so distant future.

I will not have to wear nanny shoes again and I am certain I will let my wardrobe reflect in the not necessary to wear something that may stain easy, shred easy, get yanked on by a toddlers hand, spilled on by an eight year olds excitement with helping me cook dinner, or have stickers put all over my outfit by a five-year old with a thing for glitter and unicorns.

I feel her though on the glitter.

It’s silly, but it makes me happy.

A friend in my cohort once sent me a little article about why humans are drawn to glitter–it reminds us, that animal part of us, of the way light reflects off water.

Makes complete sense to me.

I just now that it makes me happy.

Today I felt happy.

I might have also allowed that to spill over into a few purchases today.

I got myself a new Iphone 8 phone case.

The family I work for gave me a brand new Iphone 8 for my birthday along with a silicon cover.

Unfortunately the silicon cover won’t work with most glues or adhesives, so the magnet that I have on the dashboard of my car won’t work with the cover.

My best friend suggested a thin magnet in between the cover and the phone but I decided I really just wanted a new cover, one that I could affix the magnet to, and one that’s more me than the bright red cover that’s on my phone.

I mean.

Red’s nice and all.

But when a girl can have pink glitter?

Well.

Yeah.

So, happy equals getting a new Iphone cover in pink glitter as well as a new set of headphones.

I am over the moon at the ones I found and pretty happy with the price, $79.

I got a pair of retro over the ear headphones from Imego.

They are super cute.

And I am happy to have them for my trip to Paris.

It’s a long flight, a bit over ten hours and I will want good headphones.

I can’t wear ear buds for too long, my ears are actually pretty small and the buds hurt my ears after a while, they are too big, and it gets really uncomfortable after a few hours of wearing them, usually I can’t go more than that without having to take them out.

I splurged when I moved to Paris five years ago an a really nice over the ear set from Head Candy and I had them for almost four years, but they got worn out and the last time I went to Paris they died.

I was going to get some before I went on my trip to D.C. but never got around to it.

Since I recently got my tax refund I decided it was time to get a new pair.

I’m quite happy and I know that I will have happy ears on the long flight there and back.

Yes, it’s a bit early to be thinking about Paris travel, but I also know that sometimes when the timing strikes I just have to do the thing and get it off my list of stuff to get.

I got a lot done this weekend, the sleep really did help, from doing all my laundry and housecleaning, to selling clothes, getting a manicure and my eyebrows waxed, to dropping off clothes to get mended, and a pair of my dear Fluevogs to get re-soled.

I also cooked lots of food, roasted a chicken today and also made an Italian chicken and sausage stew with crushed tomatoes, mushrooms and artichoke hearts, so yummy.

I got to hang out with my best friend and have some spectacular connection.

I got to be of service.

I met with some of the ladies I work with.

I did my commitments.

I went to group supervision.

I went to Office Max and got some folders and a binder for keeping my paperwork together for graduation purposes.

I even did some reading for school.

And now.

It’s time to wind down and get ready for Monday.

It’s going to be a week.

But.

Then again.

When fuck isn’t it?

Heh.

 

Exhilarated

Holy shit.

That was an amazing session.

And.

It was just a consult.

But it was more than a consult, we got into it.

My client, see, I am already calling the client mine, requested that we work together moving forward.

I do have openings.

But as I don’t know the exact way the internship assigns clients I’m not sure if I request the client or that the client does that to the assistant director and the director, who decide who works with whom.

The client and I definitely made a connection and as I mentioned it went beyond just an initial intake and the hour flew by.

I was surprised that I hadn’t even once looked at the clock, it just was so full, the session.

I did tell the client that the assistant director would contact him within two weeks with the therapist that had been assigned to him.

I hadn’t even entertained the idea that he was going to ask to work with me.

But he did.

I told him I did have availability and that he should contact the assistant director as she’s primarily responsible for calendaring the clients.

I also left a note in the chart and put it in the director’s files.

So.

Yeah.

Full week of work, plus overtime and five clients seen.

Not too fucking bad.

Sort of amazed actually.

The week whipped by.

I have a full and busy weekend too.

I have packages to pick up at the post office, framed prints to grab from Cheap Pete’s, I need to do a little more grocery shopping–I managed to sneak in a foray over to Gus’s Community Market before seeing my client–and pick up a couple of wardrobe additions and get a mani/pedi/wax.

I have to go to group supervision tomorrow at 2p.m.

It does throw my schedule a bit having that chunk of time in the middle of the day on a Saturday, but so it goes.

I signed up for a yoga class in the morning before my day gets off and running.

I am hoping to do the post office and the print pick up before I head into my internship.

I will be hanging out with my fellows and doing the deal in the NOPA at 7p.m. so I have a few hours I can run errands after the internship.

Probably won’t try to cram getting my nails and eyebrows done in that time.

I like to enjoy the relaxing and not be stressed about getting to the next thing.

I have a lady I’m meeting on Sunday here at the house to do some work, but Sunday afternoon looks pretty free, which is nice, since it’s my one official day off a week.

I’m probably going to do some clothes shopping.

Having clients has definitely pushed me to flushing out my wardrobe.

I often can make what I wear to my nanny gig work for my therapy gig, I bring an extra set of shoes, typically one of my pairs of Fluevogs, and I take off my nanny shoes when I get done with my shift, and put on my therapy shoes.

It really helps me get into the role.

I have been less and less concerned about my hair or my tattoos, being well dressed, I mean, not fancy pants dressed, I did wear jeans in my session tonight, underneath a Michael Kors dress with polka dots that I scored at Crossroads, but I am polished and I think that offsets the tattoos and besides, it’s fucking San Francisco.

As a dear friend once said to me, “my therapist has pink hair and tattoos, you’ll fit right in.”

He was totally right.

I am fitting in.

It feels good to walk the halls and I am getting more and more ideas about how I want my own space to look like.

I got the pleasure of being in the best office tonight.

Really.

The best.

The director even told me that it was the room everyone wanted to work in and I feel pretty damn lucky that I get to have it, considering that I am so new at the internship.

Then again.

I have night-time sessions and I think that makes the difference.

I also don’t get this particular office all the time.

Just once a week.

But man.

It gave me some ideas.

I have been taking ideas with me from my own therapy sessions, things that work for me in my therapists space and things that don’t.

As well as from my supervisors space.

And also now from this particular office.

The director told me the woman who works out of the space used to be an interior director before she got her MFT licence.

Yeah she was.

It was fantastic.

A beautiful Eames brown leather chair.

And.

A big warm brown leather couch.

An antique globe, steam punk lights, vintage books, brown wood bookshelves, antiqued window frame mirror, big brass lamps.

She had pretty throws, big pillows and a soft sage green afghan over a low slung brown leather and kelly green fabric bench.

It was inviting and warm and generous.

I wanted to meet her after I walked in.

There was great wallpaper, black birds in bare limbed trees on brown paper.

It was just a great space.

Somethings didn’t work for me, but it gave me some ideas and I do so look forward to when I get to have my own space to practice out of.

I left the session feeling so exhilarated that I zipped home and spontaneously cooked up a batch of homemade soup in conjunction with making my dinner

It’s nice to have the smell of soup cooking in my house and also to have the week laid to rest behind me and a nice, albeit full, weekend in front of me.

So grateful for this life.

For these opportunities to serve.

To be available for it all is such a gift.

Luckiest girl in the world.

All The Beautiful

Babies.

Well.

Two of the beautiful babies.

I got to spend time with a very dear friend today and her 6 week old twins.

Oof.

Such goodness.

Beauties.

There was hours of catching up, I haven’t seen her in seven weeks, eight maybe?

We saw each other right before I left for Paris and had the twins while I was there.

I have missed her and it was so good to reconnect.

We talked and talked and it was wondrous to see her with her babies.

And.

Oh.

Yes.

I got to hold them too, one of them for a super long time, hours, literally, of having a small warm baby on my chest, snuggled in and cozy.

I brought her some homemade frittata I had made this morning–prosciutto and asparagus with parmesan and some nice chocolate and some flowers and the twins some gifts.

My standards–Jellycat bunny rabbits and my favorite children’s book–“I Am A Bunny” by Richard Scarry.

It was a gorgeous day and I managed to avoid most of the traffic for Pride.

I’m so grateful there are events like Pride, but I have to tell you, I don’t have much band width for those kinds of crowds anymore.

I was more than happy to be ensconced with my friend in her apartment catching up on all things life and school and love.

We had such a nice time together.

I will be spending more time with her in July when the family I nanny for is on vacation.

I will be surrounded by babies.

Even though I won’t be nannying for the three weeks the family is away.

I will also be picking up consultations at the internship, so even though I won’t necessarily be adding in clients at that time, I will be able to do consults, which is basically an initial assessment and counts towards my hours.

Which I am more than happy to pick some of that up when and where I can.

My friend though was quite happy to hear that I’ll have some time in July and she’ll be ready to get out of the house a bit more at that point and we can stroll around North Beach and be together and have coffee and cafe time and baby time.

“You can still have one!” She said to me, “look at you!”

Yes.

Every time I hold a baby, especially a newborn I do have a flashing moment of what would it be like, but I’m 44 I don’t expect that’s coming down the pipeline.

I have plenty on my plate as it is.

And I have gotten to have so many babies in my life, I am grateful, so grateful, for all the little ones I have gotten to take care of.

I laughed and smelled the little one in my arm and told her I was happy exactly as I am.

I am happy.

“You look amazing, so beautiful,” she said, and her husband concurred.

I have been given some really nice compliments lately.

It’s been nice.

It’s nice to have people see me and my happiness.

I am very happy.

Astounded with it at times and beyond grateful.

I really like who I am.

I like the shoes I wear, literally and figuratively, I got a new pair of “I’m a therapist” shoes to throw into the repertoire, Fluevog had a big huge sale and I couldn’t help it, I picked up one more pair.

They are investment shoes though, seriously, I will have them for years and years and years.

And some of my basic therapy clothes and wardrobe is starting to trickle in.

I just did a little bit of online ordering from GAP to fill out my therapist wardrobe.

I feel pretty damn grown up.

And loved and seen and happy and yeah, I don’t have complaints.

Sometimes I feel like there’s not enough time, but I have been squeezing in the time to be social and do my recovery and make work and take on clients and I have full days.

Super full.

They go fast and here it is the end of the weekend and it starts all over again.

I was invited to stay for dinner at my friend’s house, but I knew I needed to get back home, again managing to avoid the Pride traffic and super grateful for my scooter to zip through the avenues, I needed to take care of some things here and get myself ready for tomorrow and my supervision meeting before work and work and then being prepped for a new client tomorrow night after work.

I needed to get myself sorted.

I only have Sundays off now and so far it’s working, I do manage to be ultra creative about getting stuff done.

Finding pockets of time here and there.

Sometimes they are not big enough but I manage to sneak things in, a little grocery shopping here, an errand there, some time researching for clients, sometime writing for myself, cooking, laundry, you know, all the things.

The only thing suffering is my manicure.

I could use another two and a half hour block of time somewhere in my week.

It’s not going to happen until next weekend though.

And I also am in need of picking up my framed prints from Cheap Pete’s.

I thought I would do that today, but the twins were so dreamy, I stayed later than I had thought and it was super nice to help out my friends.

I will miss them so much when they move back to France.

Good thing I like going to France.

I know there will be visits.

Anyway.

I get far, far ahead of myself.

Right now.

Well.

It’s been a really good weekend and I am happy to wrap up the writing, tie up the loose ends and get ready for the week.

It’s sure to be busy.

It always is.

Ha.

That Was A Session

I’m a therapist.

It was so clear.

It was so obvious.

It was like getting whacked over the head.

You are a therapist.

I was in it with my client and although it was just a second session I could feel it happening, I could feel the alliance happening and who knows where it will go, but it’s a start.

I have clients.

Two this week.

Three next week.

And so it builds.

I was also a space cadet today.

I left my bag with my nanny shoes at work.

And when I realized I had already been on my way to the internship to see my client and I did not want to risk losing time to turn around and go back.

When I finished with the session I couldn’t remember if I had actually carried out the bag with me, having then left it on the sidewalk outside of my job.

Or.

If I had left it inside the house.

I called and text my boss but got no response.

Then I had a horrible vision of my bag, with my very expensive Dansko walking shoes, on the sidewalk and it getting scooped up by an entrepreneurial type in the neighborhood.

I debated going home, but I needed the piece of mind more than the extra few minutes I would have gotten at home.

So I zipped over to work and sure enough it was at the house, inside, thank God.

I thanked the dad, hopped back on my scooter and zoomed home.

It was a fast ride, the rush traffic having dissipated and in the end I was only home five minutes, maybe seven, past when I had predicted I’d be walking in.

It’s nice to be home.

I love my little studio.

Yes.

I would love to have more space.

I surely would.

However.

In this time in my life I am willing to be in a little space that holds me so well and is pretty and full of color and things to look upon that make me happy.

Speaking of which.

I expect to hear back soon from Cheap Pete’s.

The framing shop I took my two Paris prints to.

One a Marilyn Monroe by Phillip Hausman I got at the Jeu de Paume in Paris and the other a vintage Scandal sheet cover from a vendor at Clingancourt.

I am looking forward to adding them to my collection.

Although, truth be told, I don’t have much wall space left at all.

I have an idea to rearrange a few things and move around a couple of pieces and I think they will fit just fine.

And.

In other news.

I got my financial aid disbursement.

Hurrah!

So very happy.

I put half of it in savings immediately.

I will be using that money for my therapy costs as I move through my school program.

I will also be purchasing some new clothes for the doing of therapy.

I have a small wardrobe, but I realized that I need to expand a little, a few more pieces of professional clothing that I can interchange with my current wardrobe.

I was talking to my therapist this morning.

Yes.

The therapist has a therapist.

Duh.

Anyway.

Just that it’s nice having a change-up in my wardrobe and it helps me to be in the mindset.

Which is how I forgot my nanny shoes at work.

I took them off to put on my “therapist” shoes.

My new Fluevogs.

They are funky, but not too crazy and I do feel like someone else when I wear them.

It feels important to switch gears from nanny to therapist.

Even if the client would probably be completely happy with whatever I am wearing, well, perhaps, but really, it feels right for me.

It’s like pushing a reset button.

I carry myself different and I put on a different hat.

Or pair of shoes.

If the shoe fits.

Fucking wear that shit.

And I have totally lost my train of thought.

I am tired and just did a Facetime chat with a friend who’s been trying to catch up with me for a couple of weeks.

I am just starting to take clients, I can’t imagine how things are going to look when I’m back in school.

I probably won’t know what hit me.

But.

My god.

I am so grateful that I have started my internship now.

If I had to handle the training and the clients and the newness of it and juggle a full load of fall semester.

Um.

No.

Super grateful to have this time to get adjusted.

I also know that I won’t have to work as many hours.

Right now I’m working 40-41 hours a week as a nanny.

When school is in I’ll go back down to 35 and that will help.

Shit.

That’s five clients right there.

Add the three I have now and I could reasonably be doing the same amount of work that I am carrying now.

Of course.

It will be different.

I will also have to carry a full-time grad school load.

With all the reading and writing that entails.

Shh.

I tell myself.

Hush for now.

Don’t spoil the moment.

I had a good day.

I was a good nanny.

My charges loved on me, I got to hold the baby for a few hours while it slept, I made a dinner that the entire family raved about (pancetta spaghetti carbonara with julienned sugar snap peas, pan sautéed asparagus with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, hearts of romaine salad with heirloom tomatoes, avocado, a soft-boiled wild hen egg and sprouted sunflower seeds), “Carmen, you are a REALLY good cook,” said the seven year old.

Thanks sugar.

I do love cooking for those I care about.

And.

I was a therapist.

A damned good one at that.

I think I have earned my cup of tea.

With that.

I call it a night.

Sleep well my friends.

Sleep well.

 

Cherry Popped

I had my first client.

It went well.

That’s all I’m going to say.

That and holy shit.

I had my first client!

I did my first session of therapy with a client.

The client has rebooked for another session.

So it really begins.

As though it’s not been beginning for a very long time, all the time training and studying and reading and writing papers and working with my cohort.

All that.

Plus.

Years of other kinds of service, sitting and listening to another person check in, being honest, being accountable, showing up, doing the deal.

I mean.

Fuck.

I have been working hard for a god damn long time to get here.

I had my first client session.

I know I won’t ever forget it.

And I am grateful for it.

It was a good day.

A sunny day.

A lovely day.

I did a lot.

Showered and wrote and coffee and reading and making sure I had a back up outfit for work, just in case I get nannied in the line of duty.

Last week the baby spit up on both my arms.

Nothing says “let’s create a therapeutic alliance” more than smelling like regurgitated breast milk.

Ha.

So.

I have a back up outfit at work.

I actually have two.

I have one just for work, if I need to I can do a quick change out and being able to work the rest of whatever hours I have work and run my stuff through the wash.

And now.

I have a second outfit that is more appropriate to looking like a professional.

Oh.

I’m still pretty casual in my attire.

But.

I today I was was also softly polished.

Black leggings, long drop waist charcoal grey dress, baby blue cardigan, and my new Fluevogs.

I wanted to look nice, warm, inviting.

I also liked dressing for the part.

I love dress up.

I love clothes and shoes and I have secretly waited to arrive at the day when I can start to be a little more polished and professional.

It was really nice to transition from my nanny clogs to my therapist shoes.

It felt like I was putting on my superhero cloak.

Nanny by day, psychotherapist by night.

I’ll be seeing all my clients in the evenings after I get done with work.

I was talking to my own therapist this morning, I see her on Tuesdays before work, so it’s like my day is completely bookended with therapy, about how lucky I am that I have the job that I do and how much it fills me up.

My therapist and I talked a lot about how strong I am and how I don’t always know how to let myself recognize that, that I do the work.

I can logically see it, but sometimes when I have felt like I have had no other option, no one else to rely on, just me doing it on my own, how devastatingly lonely that can be and how hard.

It has taken getting pretty beaten down by a few accidents during the last twelve and a half years to help me see that asking for help is a valuable experience for me and when I am more vulnerable.

Well.

I am stronger.

There is such strength in vulnerability.

The more I can allow myself to be seen, to be vulnerable, the more I learn and the more I am able to use my own inner resources without having to feel like I’m justing working hard to work hard.

I am so grateful that wall has dropped.

It goes back up at times, but I find the more I can let it down the happier I am and the fuller my life become.

I am incorrigible in my aliveness and lust for living.

Absolutely defiant with my need to feel more happiness and joy and see more and go further and have as many experiences and have as much growth as I can.

Yeah.

I know that might be courting some painful things too, but there is growth where there is pain.

I do hope to reach a point in my life when I can make changes before I have to experience pain, a place of simple humility about what I can and can’t do, rather than a forced feeding of excoriation because I am simply unwilling to let go of some characteristic of myself that I think still serves me.

Not acknowledging my strength today in my therapy session would have been akin to that.

I acknowledged it.

And.

I also had to hold the fact that there’s an inner critic who still holds a lot of sway and likes to smack talk me quite a bit.

Not enough.

Not smart enough.

Not pretty enough.

Not lovable.

Not good enough.

But.

Those things are simply not true and they taste older and more and more faded and dusty and the cloth binding is falling apart.

Let me drop it to the floor, sweep it out the door and find something fresh and new and lovely.

There is so much loveliness for me.

I am sure of it.

“Your capacity for love is enormous,” my therapist said, “you have the biggest heart.”

Hearing a basic stranger, I mean, we’ve had, like what, eight sessions, tell me that my capacity for love was not just big, but enormous, I was floored.

I was validated.

That is what I hope to do for my clients.

To see them.

Honest in who they are with whatever they bring.

I know that I can do it and I am honored that I got to do that today.

And yes.

Log my first freaking hour of individual therapy.

It feels amazing to be logging hours.

I have a long way to go.

But I am on the path and that is all I need to be present for.

I don’t have to know where it ends.

I just need to continue moving forward.

One baby step at a time.

 

A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step

–Lao Tzu

Be Anais To My Henry

And ding!

Ding!

Ding!

We have a winner.

Best pick up line ever.

Yup.

Back on the dating tip again.

I was told, suggested, ha, when have I not taken her suggestions? To get back on the dating, “that was one date, try again,” she said and gave me a look.

Ok.

I also got some really specific things to write my next inventory on.

Gratefully I have only four, FOUR!

Four people on this inventory, and one concept.

I can’t believe that.

The concept blows me away.

She wants me to write about being unworthy.

“What I’m hearing is that you’re not worthy, I want you to go back and look back and really write about that, how and when that started, because you are worthy, and that false belief needs to get taken out and replaced with worthiness.”

Damn.

I have never heard it put like that.

I am excited, nervous, yes, what will happen when I believe I am worthy, how will my life change?

It will change for the better, that I know, so I will do what she suggests.

So.

I have started yoga, went again today, 6th time.

Really hard time today, had a hard time getting out of my head, felt stiff and the new mat I got was so slippery that I was sliding all over the place and falling on my ass, a lot, too much, found myself swearing “fuck this” and almost in tears more than once.

However.

I have a housemate and I asked her after class today, as she does yoga too, about her mat.

I showed her mine and she said, “oh, it’s because it’s a cheap mat, look, you want something like this,” and she showed me her mat.

Oh my god.

What a difference.

I went online immediately and googled non-slip mat and found a Gaiam mat and yes, it was expensive, but not too bad and I have committed to doing this practice, for my school class, for my person, for my self.

I might as well get a good mat that I won’t slip on, because if I had to continue the way that I did today I would quit, it was untenable.

However.

My housemate gave me the older one to use of hers that I was borrowing until I got my own, so I will retire the slick little mat I bought at the co-op and use the housemates until I get the new mat.

That will help.

I plan on going in again tomorrow.

And Wednesday.

Heh.

I’ll be on a tea and poetry date in the Outer Sunset.

Yes.

I did get back on Tinder and realized that one bad date was not going to throw me and even if I have more bad dates, which is more likely than anything, I’ll have had more experiences.

As I have stated before I get to get out there and do this, I get to learn, and like the yoga, I will fall on my face a bunch and make an ass out of myself and probably meet a few asses, but maybe, I’ll also meet someone impeccable and fun.

And tall.

Yes.

My Wednesday cafe date is 6’4″!

Mama’s bringing out the heels!

Although, I may not as we’re having a cafe date after I get out of work and doing the deal.

I may not be in heels wearing mood.

I’ll probably rock the tried and trued Converse.

Or maybe the new Fluevogs, they’ve got a sassy little heel, not too extreme for a first date.

I got time to let my wardrobe speak to me.

I wore the sweetest new gingham black and white check halter dress from Hell Bunny today.

I got the last of my dresses from my fitting at the Modcloth Brick and Mortar.

So happy that I did that for myself, it’s been so nice having sweet, cute, sexy, sassy clothes, I’ve really been enjoying the hell out of them.

I wore the dress with a little black cardigan today and pink glitter lipgloss and just felt all kinds of fancy.

I am also reflecting on fashion as it looks really good for that thing in the desert.

I got an amazing and awesome proposal from the family that wants me to playa nanny this year.

AMAZING.

I’m a little loath to share the details here, suffice to say I need to collect myself and e-mail my current employers and ask for the time off.

I have nerves about the request as it falls outside of my paid vacation time.

First and foremost I have to go to my school retreat.

It’s the second year retreat and it’s another full time week of classes out at the center in Petaluma we were at this past summer.

The dates are August 7th-14th.

That is what I am saving the rest of my vacation days for, I have to go to that, it’s part of my curriculum, there is no getting out of it and I love Burning Man.

LOVE IT.

But.

I have to prioritize the school stuff.

So that’s my first ask for time off.

The second request, the Burning Man request, is outside of my paid vacation, August 25th-September 6th, and though I’d be well compensated by the family I’d be working for on playa (thus negating any pay losses which I can’t, um afford, considering what the hell my tuition is, hello student loans), I’d really be honor bound to work with my current family.

That’s the job that pays the bills the rest of the year.

I think they will.

They did last year.

I just have to ask.

I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it tonight, but I will tomorrow.

I want them to have the information and I want to be transparent.

I respect them greatly and they have really taken care of me, the raise, the SFMTA Child Care Parking Permit for my scooter, cash when I work overtime.

I appreciate them and how they have been so business like with me too.

That being said, I deserve these things, I bust my ass and work hard and I do love, so much, my boys, they are just deliciousness all the time.

Well, not all the time, but you now what I mean.

That being said, I know they want me to be happy and Burning Man makes me happy.

I’m pretty sure it’s all going to work out.

And yay.

It’s been a good day.

I also started my period so I’m not so hormonally nuts, but you know, I’m alright with what happened, my emotions needed a vent and I got it.

Ah.

Life.

You are so good to me.

Tall cafe date, Burning Man, recovery, self-care, coffee, spicy sweet tea, flowers in my hair, yoga, sleep, graduate school, life.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Told you so!

I’m talking to myself here, yesterday and the day before, I wasn’t feeling it.

Funny how quickly things turn around when you let go.

Take suggestions.

Surrender.

And let the love find you.

Show up for it.

It is always there.

I promise.

 

 

 

Vacation!

It’s official.

I am off the next six days in a row.

I’m not freaking out.

Yet.

I have had a lot of loud, however, conversation in my head about the kind of exercise I should, would, or could be doing.

It is in fact driving me a bit bats.

But better to be obsessed with figuring out the best work out for my time and schedule than wondering about what I am going to do with all this time.

Just take it easy.

One day at a time and all that jazz.

I do have plans to meet with a ladybug tomorrow and do the deal and things of that nature are happening, but aside from that, my day is pretty wide open.

I have some pretty wide open days coming up, little things here and there, but lots of opportunity to do things and go places and hang out.

And.

Oh yes.

Sleep in.

I have gotten up at 6:30 a.m. or earlier for the last four days.

I am ready to not have an alarm go off.

I will be sleeping as long as I like.

I tell myself it will be a good long time, but it will be whenever my brain wakes up enough to rouse my body from its slumber.

I did take some actions around looking into things.

I went and talked to a woman at Laughing Lotus on 16th and Guerrero and got a schedule.

I also have done a lot of online trying to figure things out.

I have to say.

I am over trying to figure it out.

I got a great suggestion tonight from a fellow to surrender it and ask for direction and see what shows up.

I don’t have to know tonight.

And I can and have been driving myself a little nutty with it.

I have other things to do.

Homework is one of them, but I think I will at least let myself off the hook for that tomorrow and not worry about delving back into the homework right away.

I actually feel like giving myself the entire day off tomorrow to not think about any of it at all.

Just show up for my commitment and let whatever happens happen.

I am sure the day will show up.

It did today and I got to go into work and happily so, on my scooter.

I got my SFMTA Child Care Parking Permit and I am now allowed to park anywhere in the area of the permit for up to 72 hours without getting a ticket.

I can’t imagine leaving my scooter there overnight, but if something did happen, it would be ok for a few days.

And it means that I will be using my scooter to commute to work starting next week when I go back in.  I will want to have some sort of exercise routine in place, but I don’t have to have it right now.

Rather I can just enjoy looking at the day and the fact that I got to walk around a bit outside, have a nice lunch at Herbivore (I’m not a vegan, but I occasionally play one on tv, I actually just realized that everything I had today was vegan, huh) and in between taking care of things at work and meeting my friend for an iced coffee, I also got a manicure pedicure.

And a new vibrator.

Just saying.

I have some down time.

And.

Um.

Ha.

It works well.

Thumbs up.

Ha!

Anyway, I did pop in and out of a few other places, but nothing else caught my eye and truth be told, I haven’t felt too compelled to buy anything.  I will probably still take some time and do some clothes shopping, but nothing on Valencia Street was doing it for me and I was still sorted of at work, so I didn’t really take time to do a lot of looking.

It was better to hang out with my friend and catch up than worry about new clothes or what yoga studio I should check out.

My friend also mentioned ODC and she’s the third or fourth person to recommend it, so that is a place to investigate too.

I keep trying to get back to that and I really just want to let it lie right now, I am not about to go put on my yoga pants and grab a mat and…

Um.

Hahahaha.

Fuck me.

I am in yoga pants.

I put them on after I tried on a new dress I ordered on Modcloth.

I think I need to stop ordering on Modcloth.

I think I need to go down to the fit shop instead.

The dress is cute and it was one of the things I allowed myself to get when I got my tax return, I’d actually forgotten I had ordered it.

However, although it’s a perfect fit, the bodice is bizarre.

It makes my chest look really strange.

I mean.

It is NOT flattering.

Which is a bummer since it perfectly matches my new John Fluevog shoes!

OMG.

They came today and I picked them up from the shop in the Haight.

I am so wearing them tomorrow.

They are magical.

Maybe I should get dressed up and go to the museum and have a little artist date.

Stop thinking and get into some art.

Put on my fancy new shoes and scooter over to the DeYoung.

That would be fun.

I could have lunch at the cafe or I could go to Park Chow.

Oh yum.

Then, who knows.

I am meeting my ladybug at the Church Street Cafe at 6:15p.m.

That’s the earliest I have to be anywhere.

I can really sleep in.

Heh.

Again, I doubt it will be a long slumber, but it will not be getting up at 6:30 a.m.

No, nope, not at all.

Ah.

Perhaps a nice leisurely breakfast, some writing, a walk on the beach, it’s supposed to be nice tomorrow then rain for a few days, so it could be the right time to do the beach for sure.

Life is good.

I don’t have to know anything.

Be anything.

Or go anywhere.

I am exactly perfect.

Right here.

Right now.

You Need To Hit Something

And hit it.

He laughed.

Oh my god I love that my person basically told me to go hit something, ie, go take a kick boxing class or a boxing class and hit a bag.

As well as.

Girl, go get laid.

Of course as soon as the permission is given I’m all like, who, who, who, I took down my Okstupid profile, how am I going to meet people, guys, I’m into guys, thank you, and ick, I didn’t like Tinder and…

“Face to face,” he said, “it’s called ‘adulting’ not texting, not online dating, face to face.”

Oh goodness.

Then I thought, well hell.

I’m busy as fuck when am I going to meet a fuckable fellow?

There’s a few places I could look and to tell the truth, I’m not going to loo too hard, when the time is right, the right man will present.

I am so horny it’s retarded.

I know exactly how un-PC that is.

That’s how it is.

In my pants.

Heh.

Oh and I so don’t give a serious fuck what anyone is thinking about this blog.

Family members, dear friends, those of tender mercies.

Stop reading.

The thrust, pun intended, of this blog is not going to be pretty.

But it might be sexy.

What I also love about being with my person is that I was able to be open about something that I have noticed myself doing and I don’t want to be doing.

It’s a form of self-sabotage that has it’s roots in a lot of family of origin crap that I have processed a lot about, but occasionally another layer is peeled off.

Here it the gist of it.

I like to dress up.

I like to wear dresses.

I love makeup.

I love frills and glitter and frippery.

Frippery is a word.

Although it does sound like something I might make up.

Anyway.

I have a tendency to get myself a pretty outfit, then not wear it.

I get excited about an event or a place or a thing that I am going to and then, last minute, change my mind, take off my heels, put back the dress, or worse, I don’t put it on in the first place, and I go back to my standard black leggings, jean shorts, tank top and t-shirt.

Sure.

It’s got its own sexy appeal.

More over it’s a handy work outfit.

I can bust it on my bicycle and I am cool.

I usually choose to adorn my hair with something floral and feathered, and I put some make up on.

Today.

I wore that exact outfit.

Exact.

Then I did my hair up into two big poofs, stuck two black and glitter flowers in it with black feathers and two different star shaped sequined hair clips.

(“Carmen!  I love your hair,” she said to me has I exited the gate and was unlocking my bicycle.  “I wish I could get away with stuff like that, it looks amazing!)

Plus.

I was wearing long should grazing silver star earrings with chains.

The affect was electric.

And I had fun.

But I will talk myself, self-sabotage, out of wearing the really fabulous shit in my wardrobe.

So.

I told on my self.

I told my person, who incidentally has me speaking for him this Sunday, and who also, is extraordinarily well put together himself (only one of the many reasons I work with him), that my head has been trying to tell me to not be so fabulous.

But that I want to be.

I mean.

I do.

I want to wear some polka dots.

Which is good since I got a red dress white polka dots to go with my new Fluevog shoes.

Mwahahahaaha.

And I want to wear a crinoline and I want to twirl in my dress in pretty shoes.

I am going to do just that, because my autonomy is attractive and my authenticity is important and because, damn it, I am allowed to get dressed up.

I am also allowed to get laid.

It’s about damn time.

I am not sure who I was trying to convince, but I’m over it.

I laugh at myself, “me thinks the lady dost protest too much.”

Sure.

The woman has needs and I am allowed to meet them.

Stop asking for permission and get it.

I also love that idea of hitting something, a body bag, a BOB, doing some target practice, doing some hitting drills, kicking drills.  I am going to explore that during my time off.

I have done some investigating into swimming, yoga, and now I am thinking boxing, possibly kick boxing, and dance class.

Mostly what I am concerned with is my schedule and what is going to be compatible with my work and school and recovery schedule.

And you think I’m too busy to get laid.

Ha.

I’ll show you.

Speaking of which.

Show yourself man.

I know you’re out there.

If I’m going to meet you, I need an approach.

I know that part is up to me.

If I want to meet someone I’m going to have to be out there in the world.

I’m doing better.

Getting out.

Getting out of my head.

Lightening the fuck up.

But you know, I’ll take your suggestions.

I’ve always done well with suggestions.

I’m not going to do the online dance though, I realize that really has never worked.

I could manifest like I did at Burning Man.

My friend was so funny and perfect when she suggested I write it out in my notebook, “You need the Universe to manifest a guy that will fuck you like a man and feed you steak.”

It was manifested.

I could use that right about now.

Yes.

I am busy.

But let me look at this as self-care.

I am charging the vibrator as I blog.

I told you I was not holding any punches with this blog.

You’re squeamish?

Fuck if I care, take it elsewhere.

I’m sure that there’s a rainbow, fairy tale, princess pants blog out there wishing you well with kitten whiskers and such shit.

And you know.

Great.

That’s great.

This is great.

Getting to be all things.

I get to be this mix.

A fabulous, crazy (at least I know I’m crazy, let’s be real, the ones to be wary of are the ones that say they’re fine), wicked sexy, fun, funny, sweet, kind woman.

I get to be it all.

I get to be spiritual.

And.

Sexual.

I mean.

Maybe this weekend isn’t the right one, Valentines and all.

Then again.

Heh.

I got six days off coming up.

I said it would be a “staycation.”

Maybe I should have a sexcation.

Ha!

Oh I amuse myself.

I don’t know what’s going to happen.

But hey, Universe, I have been given some instructions.

Help a girl out.

Thanks!

Unbox This!

The reverence in which I just unboxed a ream of paper made me wish I had been video taped.

I was all excited as I saw the box in the hallway when I got home from work tonight and I thought, boy, I could use a little pick me up after the busy day I had at work.

Grandparent visit.

That’s all I’ll say.

Thank God tomorrow is Friday.

Anyway.

I wheeled home, a perfectly temped night, a fast whiz through the park, the smell, dark, rich, fragrant, trees and earth and coolness, the sharp, delicious smell of wood fire burning down at the beach drifting towards me.

I looked up.

Saw Orion in the sky.

Remembered nights, compiled upon one another in a stack of memory Tarot cards, a shuffling of images, heart rendered soft with the sweetness of that unrequited love, that night on the beach there, that hand in my hand on the sea wall, the fall of the red moon into the sea, the lift of the stars above my head.

I thought of all the times I had stared up silent and alone in the awe of the stars, the press of the night on my heart, the alone of not being alone and the loveliness of the sky after just slipping off my bicycle and turning off the flashing lights on my handlebars.

I smiled at the stars, stuck the key in the garage door, wheeled in the bicycle.

I opened up the door to the hallway and there was the box.

Ooh!

Look.

My shoes!

My new Sam Edelman, I bought them with my State Tax Return, shoes.

Oh goody.

Maybe I’ll wear them this weekend.

It’s supposed to be nice.

I started thinking about what dress I should wear and I picked up the box, heavy, satisfying, the weight a sweet promise of eclectic colored pedicures and walks in the sunshine.

I got a pair of “flatform” sandals.

A retro wood platform with leather toe and ankle straps.

Super cute.

The Bentlee by Sam Edelman.

I mean.

Serious cuteness.

I delayed a little.

I put the box on the table and turned on the lights, lit the candles, cued up some music.

I am in a nostalgic music phase and am listening to Masters of Reality, Sunrise on the Surferbus.

It always reminds me of a particular boyfriend and one summer day coming into our room at the house and I didn’t know he was home, he must have come in after me, and I had the album playing loudly in the bedroom.

It was the song, Jody Sings.

The sun was slanting through the elm trees and dappling the wood floor.

I was in a long skirt, one that I had salvaged from a house dress of my mom’s, I wish I still had it, it was the perfect A-line skirt and it spun so well, I always felt so pretty when I wore it.

A long A-line skirt, a navy blue leotard, my hair down, my feet bare, the sunlight warm on the wood floors, Jody Sings playing on the tape deck player, one, two, three, I’m on my knees, Jody sings, I get high, when she rings, clouds roll by, Jody sings, I get high, when she rings clouds roll by.

Lucky one.

I am two.

Yes, I am.

Lucky three, oheee

The one for me.

One, two, three, I’m on my knees.

On my knees.

On my knees.

On my knees.

Please.

Baby, please, baby please.

I remember swaying my hips and the skirt flaring out above my knees and the sun playing on the fabric, I felt soft and sweet and sensuous.

I spun on my toes and stopped mid spin when I saw my boyfriend leaning in the doorway watching me.

His eyes aglow.

It is something.

To have someone look at you like that.

Wow.

I just had the most intense rush of emotion remembering that.

It was a hard, horrible relationship at the end, but I forget, sometimes, not always, the sweetness of the early part, the mixed tapes and the rides on the back of his motorcycle, the picnics at Picnic Point, the long nights talking until dawn, the realization that this was my person and I was his and then the realization that I was so, so, so stuck.

Ah.

Perspective.

I called it, recently, as I recall, the one night stand that became a five year relationship.

I don’t do that anymore.

Not that I have been horribly successful with romantic relationships over the past decade.

Although, truth be told, I found the One long ago, me.

And that was a divine discovery.

“Go, be frivolous!” He texted me today after my check in about my finances and some residual fear that was still trying to hang on to, even though I did some inventory around it last night before I went to bed.

He’s right, though.

He usually is.

I’m excited to be frivolous, in case you were wondering.

I found another pair of Fluevog’s I’m pretty raring to get and another pair of sneakers, I’ve had my eye on them for a bit and they’d be super good for work and also cute, which is important.

I also did my spending plan for February and tallied all my expenses for January.

I figured out what I need to put into savings and what I am allowed to spend on myself.

I’m going to have fun.

I’ll keep you updated.

Especially since I did not get the shoes tonight.

Ha.

Nope.

As I said.

The sacred cutting open of the brown cardboard box did not reveal a fancy box full of adorable platform sandals.

I reverently removed the plastic bubble wrap and said, “what the fuck?”

Oh!

Bwahahahaha.

It’s my paper for my new printer.

Well.

I guess I’m ready to write my Clinical Relationship paper now.

Ha.

Hopefully the shoes will come in time for the weekend.

And if not.

I’m sure I will find something else to bring me joy.

I have a heart full of it.

I plan on keeping it that way.

It doesn’t have to come in a box in the mail.

I have an unlimited source of it whenever I look inside myself.

Right.

There.

Hello.

Love.

Nice to see you again.

Let’s have fun this weekend.

Ok?

 

 

And Then

It all just came together.

I am uncertain how, but just like that.

I have a little birthday party happening with friends.

Nothing big, just a small group of us going to Chow on Church and Market after a little getting right with God sesh at Our Lady of Safeway.

I haven’t been to Chow in a long time and it felt like just the coziest place to be with some friends that are super hard to wrangle and then poof.

It all sort of fell into place.

Just like my outfit for the ballet in Paris.

Which is not at all what I thought I would be wearing.

Not at all.

The dress I ordered finally showed up, and again, the wrong size!

Ugh.

Seriously.

I have to return it yet again.

I was not happy and I will have to return it now for the third time.

Actually, this particular dress I am returning for the second time, but it’s the third go around with ModCloth.

The first dress was a horrible pattern, the screen color was no where near the actual dress and I rarely think about when a dress pattern or color clashes with my tattoos, because it so rarely happens.

But wow.

When it does.

It really does.

And the original dress was an awful clash.

So.

Returned for a different dress, this all in black.

And the first size, too small.

Returned.

And this size too small again.

Damn it man.

The instructions said size up, but two sizes up?

Ugh.

It’s not that I can’t get into the dress, it’s just that my rib cage, nothing else, is too big.

If I had the time I would take it out.

But I don’t, I leave for Paris in four days!

Four.

Holy crow.

After struggling in and out the dress I resigned myself to the fact, that I am just going to have to return it again and hope for a better fit.

I may just have to go with a different style, because I run the risk of the dress not fitting correctly if I size up further.

It fits everywhere else perfectly so if I size up it will probably fit in the ribcage but not elsewhere, it will be too baggy.

So.

Another dress return.

Oh well.

I was flustered when I left the house, thinking I may have to do some last minute dress shopping to get my outfit together.

I am dressing up, damn it, for the ballet, I just am.

I mean have you seen my new shoes?

But I had places to go tonight that were more important than my outfit and commitments to cover as well as a few groceries to buy for the rest of the week.

I came back to the house elated to have actually confirmed a dinner party with four, possibly five of my friends on Friday, this Friday, in the middle of holiday party season, for a birthday dinner.

Then I thought.

Well.

Shoot.

What am I going to wear?

Not that I have to get dressed up, but it might be fun.

The other consideration is that I will be nannying all day and so what ever I choose to wear will have some wear and tear on it.

I manage my clothes fairly well, but I do work with little boys, the dirt, it does happen.

So.

I was looking in my closet and then.

Oh.

Hey.

What if I do that and this and that and this.

And voi-fucking-la!

I have my outfit for the ballet.

Halter dress in black with white polka dots with white crinoline underneath and my Helmut Lang black cashmere sweater over the top, black tights, the new Fluevog’s in “Dots” and my hair up in a bun.

Perfect.

Chic.

Eclectic.

Retro pinup girl with class.

I tried on my new coat, the swing coat I got at Tatyana’s to match my shoes.

And.

Fuck me.

Swoon.

It’s a great freaking outfit.

I was so happy.

I will NOT be wearing it to work on Friday for my birthday.

I will wear something fun and sassy.

But this look.

Oh.

I’m saving it for the ballet.

I don’t know how I’m going to stuff my crinoline in my carry on to Paris, but that bitch is coming with.

Over the top.

I have my outfit.

And I have my birthday party with some of my nearest and dearest.

It’s such a pleasant surprise.

I really hadn’t much planned.

And when it all fell together I was so pleased.

I am so pleased.

And I’m doing pretty much exactly what I want to do on a Friday night in San Francisco, do the deal, and hang out with my favorite people in the city over a bite to eat in a cozy restaurant.

Some of whom aren’t in the city proper and I feel super grateful that they are going to come in from Berkeley and Castro Valley.

Drop on by if you like, always room for another smiling face at the table.

And like that.

It’s Wednesday.

I’m halfway through the week.

I have birthday plans.

I have a mighty fine ballet outfit.

I have my Therapeutic Communications paper three quarters done!

I have been working on it everyday before work.

I should actually have it completed either tomorrow or possibly I will be wrapping it up Friday morning before I go into work.

Work, some doing the deal, some fellowship.

Saturday, I’ll meet with my person, get my nails done and my eyebrows waxed, pack, and if I can manage to not break my brain, I’m going to write my Psychoanalytic paper Saturday as well.

Now that I don’t have to worry about buying another dress at the last minute, I’ve got plenty of time to kick it out of the way.

Then I’ll be free and clear for take off to Paris.

The cafes call, the museums beckon, there’s a steak tartar or three that have my name on them, I suspect there’s some oysters in my future, a trip to Sacre Coeur, possibly for Christmas Eve Mass, walking the streets with my girlfriend from school, buying notebooks and postcards, walking everywhere.

What a lovely holiday season this is.

I really am.

The luckiest girl in the world.