Posts Tagged ‘Freudian Analysis’

Done And Done

October 19, 2015

And done.

But.

Not done in.

So thankful to have had this day of working on all that is love and home and work and homework and heart work and everything that life entails and encapsulates.

I had a full day.

One that I wasn’t exactly sure how it was going to go off.

I insisted on letting myself sleep in an hour longer than I normally would.

Well.

I don’t know if insist is the right word, it felt almost like work, just lie here and let yourself go back to sleep.

The machine in my brain wanted me up and about and get on it girl, there are things to do, people to meet with, breakfast to cook, writing to be done, you have papers to write and so much reading, do you have any idea how much reading you have to do?

Not as much as I did this morning, but I get a head of myself.

I was able to combat the thoughts by acknowledging them and saying, might have been mumbled into my pillow as I turned over in my bed, my delicious, delightful, pinch me I’m so happy I get to sleep on it, bed, “thanks for sharing,” and go back to sleep.

It worked for a little while, I got another 45 minutes in.

Of course the next time I woke up, I was up and going.

And really.

I haven’t stopped since.

Although there have been reprieves and moments of down time today, moments when I look about me with such gratitude that I am overcome by what I have and the abundance, nay, the super abundance, of love in my life.

I have been all around the world and I have this home that has become such a home to me that I am in literal awe of what I have.

There is art and beauty everywhere.

The last piece finally coming together as a friend came over this morning to help me hang the Diebenkorn he gave me months ago.

When I look at that piece, the way it sings on the wall, the heralding of love, the colors replete and yes, matching, complimenting, extending around my room, I am reminded in subtle, and not so subtle ways, of the journey of the last few months.

Had someone said, you are going to cry this much, and feel this much pain, and yes, laugh this much, so much that you think you might pee your pants or vomit out sushi, or good forbid snort (all of which have happened in one degree or another) or that I might feel so much joy that I felt I was to burst, that I was going to see so much art, have access to it, get to bring it home and make my home even more my home, well, I would not have believed it.

Which is funny.

Since I have big feelings and the above sentence does not seem at all irrational to me when I re-read it.

Of course I changed.

My home becoming my unexpected crucible and I am replete with happiness, content in a way that I had not thought possible, though knew, really knew, was out there for me.

I have everything I need.

I have so much that I want, that the wanting is almost supplemental.

But I will tell you a secret.

Shhhh.

I am thinking again about a scooter.

I have been saving.

And I have not touched the financial aid disbursement that I have received for school.

I have gotten help, I won’t say that I haven’t, I have been gifted generously and taken care of and that has allowed me to throw a little more in my savings than I typically do.

I am feeling it out again, the scooter topic, as my knees also bugged me a bunch today and over the last week.

They buckled a little trying to help lift my bed out-of-the-way to hang the Diebenkorn and I found myself bursting into tears.

Although I valiantly tried to hide them, my friend looked at me in alarm and told me to sit down.

I was humbled.

My body, a token of constant humility.

I can dress her up, but sometimes I can’t get her to walk from here to there.

Anyway.

The scooter has been on my mind again and part of that, I won’t lie, is for efficiency as well.

How much more reading could I get in if I weren’t riding my bike to and from work and school?

What places I would be able to go to, doing the deal especially can be hard some days and I feel that a mode of transportation at night that is faster than my bicycle will be helpful.

I am hoping the little Buddy Italia in cream and avocado is still at Scooter Centre.

If it’s not.

It wasn’t meant to be.

If it is.

Heh.

Maybe I can get a better price on it than the one he offered me when I looked at it a few months ago.

Plus.

I am expecting a bonus at the holidays.

If I can hold off on spending the loan money and get a nice bonus, I maybe riding a scooter into the new year.

This is all speculation and pulls me away from the moment and the further acknowledgement that I need to give, to myself, really, I just want to acknowledge how much work I put into those sonnets–the ones from last nights blog.

I sent them off just before logging on here to write my blog.

I went through them three more times today and edited them, read them out loud, tightened them up, and then sat and dreamed on them while I wrote my Psychoanalytic Paper on Freud’s theories of Mourning and Melancholia.

Ayup.

And I used them in my paper.

Which was fantastic and outside the box and I was hesitant, but my friend said go for it, and when I consider how much work I did on them it didn’t feel like I was cheating to include them in my paper. ┬áIf anything, it felt like an acknowledgement to the professor of how much the Freudian work actually found its way into the sonnets as I was writing them against the back drop of analysis and dreamscapes.

I re-titled the work, tightened it up, and sent it out.

The collaborator poet has officially sent her poems out into the world for the photographer artist to use.

Part of me hopes he likes it.

The majority of me doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass.

I did a damn good job.

I love them.

They brought me joy.

I spent a lot more time with them then I thought I would, but I received so much in return, including a lot of insight that I extrapolated later in my paper when I wrote it.

That was my day: poetry, reading, writing, repeat.

Take small breaks, meet with ladybug, cook food for the week, do laundry, go with friends over the bridge to do the deal in Mill Valley, hang out, catch up with folks, then come home and finish all my Freud reading for class on Friday.

Thank God.

It’s done.

Oh.

Hahaha.

Don’t worry, I still have reading to do before Friday, but I don’t have any more papers due.

A reprieve.

I’m done for now.

Just now.

And with that.

Time to put up my feet.

Curl up in my bed.

Sip a cup of tea and look in astonishment at the prosperity and abundance in my life.

I am a very lucky girl.

I am.

So.

Very.

Very.

Lucky.

Trop Contente Ma Poule

October 10, 2015

Translation please.

“So happy my girl.”

I loved getting this text.

Even though I put myself in a place to make myself a tiny bit more hectic when I really didn’t think I could squeeze another thing into my over full schedule.

But.

When a dear, darling, yes, French, girl friend of mine texted me this evening when I had the boys in the bath asking if I would like to go see Franz Ferdinand next Thursday, “I have an extra ticket,” well, I had to say yes.

Mais, oui!

But of course.

I so want to.

I am going to have a full day that Thursday.

I had to double-check, than triple check, that the date was not a school weekend, no way I can go out to Oakland on a school weekend.

Hell.

I got invited to a dance party tonight in Oakland and I won’t say that I didn’t contemplate it, I did, but I have too much on my plate for tomorrow.

If it all goes as planned, haha, I will be meeting my person at noon, speaking at a thing at 1 p.m., taking myself out to lunch by 2:30 p.m., getting my nails done by three p.m. and fingers fucking crossed back to my place by 4p.m. so I can work on my Human Development paper before my date, which I am assuming is happening at 7:15p.m. as we have dinner reservations in the Mission at 8 p.m.

Whew.

So.

Sure.

Throw another thing in my schedule.

Oh.

Wait.

Hahahaha.

I already did do that today.

Next Thursday I also have an appointment downtown before work to renew my Healthy San Francisco health care.

I did some research last night, in between looking at dresses on ModCloth, because god only knows when I will actually have the time to go into a proper clothing store and actually buy new clothes, into my available health insurance options.

I readily discovered that it would be better fiscally for me to continue with Healthy SF.

I made the appointment for next Thursday, two days before my plan expires.

Yeah.

I know.

But it’s getting done and I don’t have to take a sick day from work.

My only other option was to go in at 9 a.m. on Monday morning and since the boys have off for the holiday, Columbus Day in case you need to make some big plans, I will be going into work at 10 a.m.

It felt like I was trying to make it work too hard.

And.

Tuesday I work even earlier, 9:30a.m.

But.

It’s ok.

I’m flexible like that.

Most of the time.

And I wanted to be flexible when my friend texted me.

I have turned down hanging out with some of my fellows in my cohort and I don’t want to continue to do that, even though it means squashing another thing into my life, so grateful I have such a full life, that I had to say yes.

Besides I really quite like the quartet from Glasgow, the Franz Ferdinand boys, and it should be a really good show.

I haven’t been to a show in a long time.

Unless you count Burning Man.

Which certainly is a circus of a show if there ever was one.

Speaking of which.

I realized yesterday, I won’t be going to Decompression.

Which is a new one for me.

I always go to Decompression.

Even though I always feel a bit let down by it.

It just is not the same, though it tries real hard.

It should be called, “Depression.”

Although I do like running into friends there and usually there’s some good dancing, some photographs and some hanging out that does me good, I do feel a little sad to be missing it, but I have plans to be working on school work.

I don’t know that I am going to get my paper written tomorrow, but I did go through all my notes this morning as well as pulling out a stack of post-it notes and marking all the places in the reader and in the gigantic text-book that I want to address in my paper.

In a sense, the knowing what I am going to write on makes the actually writing really not too bad.

If the paper goes like the last one did, and truth be told, I am better prepared with this one, I have done all the readings–finished them yesterday, and I have a good grasp on the material, it should not take longer than two, three hours tops to write.

“How’s grad school going?” My friend asked me tonight after doing the deal over at Our Lady of SafeWay.

I wasn’t expecting to be there tonight, I had a cancellation after work and I snuck in a little get right with God.

So exceptional, how I get what I need when I need it.

“It’s good, hard, full, some of it is super easy, the reading and the writing isn’t that hard, I’m used to writing, it’s more time management, that’s the hardest.” I told my friend and he gave me a big hug.

“You got this.”

I do.

He’s right.

I just also get a little caught up in the busy of it all.

But grateful, so much so, that I am finding the balance.

I also am finding myself inspired.

I wrote another sonnet out for the Burning Man collaboration with the photographer/architect/artist I met at Burning Man standing in line for the Mike Garlington chapel.

I have now written six.

I am going to write ten.

I have the frame-work done for all ten.

I have the six written in full and they make me happy.

Oh so happy.

Trop contente.

Indeed.

I figure I will write another tomorrow, and by Tuesday, I will have all ten written.

Then.

I will transcribe them into my laptop, they are all in my notebook, my Human Development notebook at that–it was the notebook I grabbed from my bag when I got inspired and started writing, although there are no Human Development references, I did find myself working some Freudian dream analysis into the last poem.

I don’t know that the poems are going to make sense to any one but me.

But.

I am very happy with the language.

It is lush and yes.

Poetic.

God.

I am lucky.

Music on my stereo.

Art on my walls.

Words at my fingertips.

And she shall make music wherever she goes.

Love in my life.

Friends who want to take me to Franz Ferdinand.

French in my vocabulary.

Burning Man in my heart.

Graduate school on my brain.

And a two-day reprieve from work.

Life.

It’s pretty fucking good.

No?


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