Posts Tagged ‘fruitvale bart’

Maybe It’s the Sexy

August 9, 2013

Hair.

That is.

Calvin leaned in as he was pulling through another strand of hair and shaping it around my face, and said, “this is the ‘I’m gonna get laid’ hair cut, just so you know.”

Good.

It’s about time.

I have not photos for you of the new sexy hair cut.

It’s adult, sleek, and there are no sparkles.

There is also no more green.

Not that anyone has commented on that, but the blue from last year did leave just the greenish tint under the right light that though faded, has stuck it the fuck out.

Now my hair is dark, lustrous, and has just a spot of red in it, which counteracts the green and looks dark chestnut-brown.

I am as close to my natural color as I have been in years.

I also got a nice flattering cut, one that does look mature and refined, although cut in such a way that I don’t have to do maintenance.

Because although I am a girly girl, I don’t really spend that much time on my hair, I just let it go.  I don’t have the patience to muddle with it, I never have.  I will get jealous of a girl who has taken the time to figure out how to flat-iron their bangs, or how to do a blow out; but I have never had the wherewithal to do it.

If I had gotten a blow out today, there would have been photos.

But as it stands there was not the time and I don’t mind that.

I like a nice blow job, who doesn’t?

But, oh, I meant blow out, which had completely different connotations in my day job.

As a nanny.

Ahem.

Enough about the hair.

I just want to focus on the sex bit, the boyfriend bit, the romance me bit, and what does a girl got to do to get a date bit.

I suppose once I am back in the city proper it will be a little easier.

The pickin’s here in East Oakland are not really my flavor.

Not to say that Oakland is devoid of men, it’s not, I just have not found a platform upon which to meet them, unless it is the platform to the Fruitvale BART station.

Of course I will laugh if I meet some awesome person at Burning Man and they are from Oakland and then I will be in the Sunset.

But that is neither here nor there.

Just like me.

Sort of stuck in the in between.

Treading water, so to speak, until I land ashore in the Sunset, a land of fog, quiet, soft cat paws of mist, and the slap and bang of the ocean surf pounding the beach head.

It will be good for me to be muffled and swaddled and caught in the softness of the landscape.  Maybe a place for me that is not so tough, not so edgy, just a crash pad of comfort.

Ah.

Nesting.

Can’t really do it yet, can’t tell where the money to do it is going to come from.

Can’t tell if I am going to get back from the burn and have full-time nanny hours with the three families.  I know I’ll get three days, outside of that I don’t know.  I do know that I don’t want to commute to North Oakland/Emeryville to nanny although I am in love with my little girl charge there.

That sucks.

And does not all at the same time.

I mean, how many of us can say unequivocably that we love our employers?

Technically the mom and the dad pay me, but the little girl is my boss.

I love my boss.

But will I take an hour and a half to get there to work.

I don’t think I can do it.

It thought about asking them to pay for the commute.

But who is going to do that?

That’s like paying me for three hours a day that I am not working, I mean it will feel like work, but it’s just getting back and forth.

Fuck.

I am exhausted thinking about it.

Maybe a temp agency is the place to go to next.

Keep doing what I can with my friend at the design agency and then look into getting my chops at a few other places around town.

My crystal ball is clouded, foggy, you could say.

I cannot see into the future.

I just have the faith that it all works out.

Today what I have left, aside from trying to get a nice photograph of my new hair, yes I am vain, I have just a few nice little things of self-care to do.

I took care of the hair, I got the phone paid, went to a late lunch with my friend, got a little time in for the design firm, rode my bike over to the Castro for a little of that taking care of business, business, and got back over to Graceland to feed the out-door kitties they dinner.

I am going to miss my some kittens when I leave Graceland.

I will.

Standing on the precipice of a new decade of time in San Francisco with Burning Man to usher me in.

It is the sexy.

The hair.

The age.

The softening instead of toughening.

I am a cream puff and I am getting more and more ok with that.

“You are so hard on yourself, so tough, you need to ease back a little,” my friend said to me today as we caught up and I think I don’t even realize that, I feel so directionless and untethered and don’t know what I am doing most of the time that to even say I surrender to this idea that I am is surreal.

But if I hear it from one friend I hear it from ten.

So like the new hair, which is really just the old hair, I’m going to show that softer side and ease back a little.

Soft is the new sexy.

Is, you could say, the new black.

You Never Know

July 19, 2013

Who could be reading this blog.

Or who follows this blog.

I don’t.

Except, every once in a while someone I know will say, “I read your blog!”

Or, “I know that already, I read that on your blog,” and I can get a little prickly pearish.

I have a friend who once asked, “what didn’t you write about,” in regards to my time in Paris.

Smart man.

There were indeed things I did not write about.

Right about now I am missing the upcoming reading for The Bastille.

I got an e-mail from the editor in regards to how they were doing the reading, who will be there, and did I have last-minute thoughts about going.

Well, yeah, I would love to be there, you know, in Paris, reading a short story that I wrote, inspired by a trip on the Metro (although having absolutely nothing to tie the Metro to the story), out loud, outside, on the terrace to the Shakespeare & Company store.

Sounds like something out of a movie, you know.

Speaking of short stories, flattered today, to be asked to read a friend’s short.

It was good.

Not great, but good, and the potential for great was there.

I have to say, aside from getting text messages from folks thanking me for what I wrote, people asking me to read there work and critique it is also flattering.

I feel like I have something to offer.

And the ease of doing it is sort of astounding.

I chalk it up to reading a lot.

Writing a lot.

And thinking about writing a lot.

I have way with words, have I.

Sometimes.

The majority of folks that follow my blog are not folks I know, but when I get personal responses from my friends and community it is validating and makes me feel that every blog is worth while, that no matter what I think I am getting somewhere with this exercise.

It is also a way to keep tabs on me.

Who knows I am in East Oakland?

You do!

Who know when I have down time?

You do!

Speaking of down time, that dreaded commodity, I put it out to facecrack that I had down time and I will see if anything shakes out from that.  Whether work, recreation, or dating.

Not that I have ever gotten a date on facecrack.

There was a guy once, but I told him he had to actually ask me out, not just message me about having coffee.

That was a long time ago, though, I haven’t really gone on a date in a while.

Well, the mister, but he’s busy, or just not all that into me, despite the contradictory statements he has spoken, “I am attracted to you,” sounds like you’re attracted to me.

But the hasn’t sent a message, called, or asked on date in three weeks, says something entirely different.

Not that dating is going to fix me or make me different, better, or good.

I am just tossing out ideas to the Universe as to what I should fill my schedule with.

I thought about riding my bicycle out to Ocean Beach and to the nanny gig in Cole Valley, to see how long my commute would be.

Writing.

Submitting some more work.

Bugging my friend who has the manuscript to sit down and talk with me about it.

Reading.

I am going to be in the city tomorrow for nanny gig, but it is only three hours, 11a.m. to 2p.m. and I will have the afternoon until 6p.m. to wander around.

I shall meander to a book store or two.

I am assuming that by the time my two weeks roll around I will have actually filled them full.  And as though to prepare for the two weeks they will be gone, I do have a fuller nanny week then normal next week.

I bet the two weeks of quiet will be nice.

I am not cringing as much at the thought as I was.

I could take out my camera and do some down and dirty photographs of the ship yards.

I have been thinking about that for a few minutes now.

Every time I go on the BART and it passes over the freeways and the penned up shipping container yards, I see photographs.  I don’t relish the idea of riding my bicycle through the neighborhoods, but I do the thought of what photographs I could take.

I want to take portraits of the prostitutes I see on International too, but I don’t think my camera would be welcomed.

There was a triumvirate of girls this evening working 18th and International, including one girl who had square cleavage.

I did a double take as I was riding my bicycle by and realized that she did not have pointy cleavage, rather that there were phones stuck in the cups of her bra.

I could also ride over to Alameda, I know from having ridden over there many years ago, that there are some very pretty avenues and areas.  It feels quite different from the East Oakland hood I am sequestered in.

I could see the movie Fruitvale.

I mean, I use the Fruitvale BART all the time, it would be interesting to see how the movie is.  I may have some direct experience with the local flora and fauna.

So many things to do.

I am sure my calendar will get booked up and until then, the best thing I can do is just focus on the next action in front of me and that looks like a fresh cup of tea.

And some proofreading.

Rue Crespin Du Gast 75011 Paris

September 6, 2012

My next address.

One I am slowly coming to terms with.

It is still surreal that I will be living in Paris in less than 60 days.

REALLY?

Yesterday I tried to change the title of my blog.  I am no longer living in San Francisco, being temporarily at Grace Land, in Oakland, off the Fruitvale BART exit.  It does not appear correct to say that my blog is now about life in San Francisco.

It should just say my blog is about life where ever the hell I happen to be that day.

Burning Man, Oakland, San Francisco, Paris.

I sent a scan of my passport to Barnaby today.  He had sent me a message whilst I was at Burning Man with photos of the apartment, in the 11th Arrondisement, and let me know that I would need to send him a copy of my passport.  I did actually have my passport at Burning Man, as I had everything there but my bicycle, but no way to send a scan out.

I was blessed enough with the opportunity to get to use the hard-line internet there a number of times.  I did not feel like pushing the issue and asking to have access to a scanner as well.  Although I did discover when making some copies of press release documents, that I could have done so easily.

None the less, I took my passport with me to work today.

Ah, back at the bike shop.

Ah, back where I don’t want to be.

It could have been the time away, it could have been that the cat is out of the bag–my GM announced at the staff meeting that I was not present for that I was moving to Paris–but I was not thrilled to be at work today.

I was pretty exhausted too.

I still have not quite gotten my sea legs back from the Burning of the bras against the man, dude.

It is interesting to see how energetic and ready to tackle what ever task ahead of me I had going on when I was on playa and now, nada, I have such low energy it is a little spooky.

Granted I did get up early today, I was not certain how long it would take me to get to BART and then on to work.  I made it with two minutes to spare.

Tomorrow I will not be quite so tight on time.  I got my bike today and brought it back with me to the Oaklandish area.

The ride home was gritty, urban, and a touch on the spookfest side.

I was not accosted, it was just an unknown landscape with a lot of poor pavement to ride.  I will, I am sure, get used to the riding and it will all become rote within a week or two.

Not that it matters that I get used to it anytime soon, for as soon as I do, I will be off to other adventures.

I have to give official notice to work, but after speaking with the GM, I don’t have to put anything down in writing.  I just need to decide what day will be my last and let him know for the calendar.

I have already begun the process of training the multiple people who will be taking over my tasks.  I am a competent kid, oh yes I am, and it was quickly apparent that what I do is going to be farmed out to three different co-workers.

I could be annoyed or I could see that I do a lot, acknowledge the efforts I have made for the company, and gently remind myself that for the future I probably do not have to take on so much work.

It is fair to share the wealth, so to speak.

I remember when I left the Angelic Brewing Company and one of my replacements expressed to me in astonishment that he had no clue how I took care of all the various aspects of the job, he could barely keep up with a third of the work.

I do that.  I step into a job, I flounder for a while, or so I tell myself, then I excel.  Then I excel some more, then I make myself indespinsable, then I get annoyed when I have to do all the work because no one else does it quite so well.

This is a recipe for disaster.

Competency is grand, but over doing it is not.

I laid back a little today.  I gave over a bike sale to another co-worker.  I ate my large salad and my cantaloupe and happily, well, sort of happily, invoiced while he did the bike build.

I also met the man behind Stumptown Coffee!

The owner of the cafe next door popped in and said hello and asked after my Burning Man adventure and introduced me to the owner of Stumptown Coffee.  I exclaimed how his Holler Mountain blend was my favorite and how often it was sold out at Rainbow.

He is bringing me a bag tomorrow at work.

Yippee!

Bring me the coffee.

I feel like it is a very needed vice at the moment.  Until I get used to the hours and the commute back and forth–it is work living here, it really is–I will need a little extra pep in my step.

I also have to get used to the extra time taken out of my day on BART.

I am kicking through my book though and I figure I will enjoy the down time on the train to do just that–read.  My secret special sauce vice of all time.

Nothing says escape like crawling into a book.

I am almost done with All The Pretty Horses.  It is so good I rather want to eke it out, but I suspect I will have finished it by the time I hit the Civic Center BART stop tomorrow.

Man, it’s almost eleven and I have not even been home for an hour.

Time to clean up, go to bed, and get up to do it all over again.

It is temporary.

Paris awaits.

My new apartment awaits.

Right next to the Edith Piaf museum!


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