Posts Tagged ‘fuck it’

Fuck It

March 31, 2016

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.

 

Some Time You Just Do What You

June 7, 2013

Don’t want to do.

You stay late when you really, really, really want to go to a movie with friends.

You roll past the place that you could have been to at 7pm if you weren’t already late and realizing that you are ten minutes past time but can get to the 7:30pm place, you go.

Even when you don’t fucking want to.

I had a case of the fuck its in a bad way.

Not sure why.

There’s nothing wrong.

I just paid my phone bill.

That’s a cool thing.

I got to go to work this morning and I got paid for the work I did and I get to go to San Francisco and work tomorrow and see friends.

I just wanted to come home, make a bowl of popcorn and hide under the covers.

I have no idea why.

I am in a much better mood now and things are fine and sometimes it just takes a minute to sit down and open the lap top and see that I am doing great.

I mean, really, I don’t have details to sweat.

I have work, I have people asking me to cover shifts for them or pick up extras.

I am going to house sit for one of the families I work for next week, which is nice as I would lose a bit of income with them being gone for eleven days and I had a family, Burning Man friends, from Austin, coming into town for a wedding and they want to have me watch their son.

Over night.

Two nights in a row.

And voila, I have a place to do so and I have effectively made up all the income that would be lost to an eleven day absence of the other family.

I don’t know exactly what to charge the family I am house sitting for and I don’t know what to charge the family that wants me to watch their son over night for two days.

These are the “worst” of my problems.

Not knowing does make me bat shit crazy.

But I not know all the fucking time.

Which may explain some stuff.

I have also been chewing on an idea that a friend of mine suggested.

Change the name of the character in my memoir.

I got a name immediately and that was like a sign.

Then I realized I could re-write a few things that always bugged me about the story line, things and incidents that despite happening exactly as I wrote them don’t mesh well with the basic story.

I also thought maybe this could be a way to give it more punch.

Who knows.

I am attached to the damn thing as it stands and I don’t know if I can do that.

But why not try?

I have already thought about scrapping the damn thing anyhow and saying fuck it to that as well, like just give up the idea that it is going to get published.

I am jumping to conclusions before I need to.

I will wait for my friend to finish reading it and see what suggestions he has and let it go.

I haven’t finished the fucking book in years, what’s another few weeks of letting it stew?

Ah, I am still irritable.

Again, not sure why.

Feelings, oh, feelings.

It’s like I am dancing around something just outside of my peripheral vision.

I suppose I could be gentle with myself, kind to myself, patient with myself, it’s only been five weeks since I have gotten back from Paris.

Five weeks of new families, new baby routines, new jobs, new places to live, new people to live with, new commuting routes, new weather, new, new, new.

Despite knowing in my head that the only thing that stays the same is nothing, that change is always happening, and that I need to be flexible, I can still get my pants in a bunch when I don’t get the routine I want, when I want, how I want.

I am also seeing that I need to be definitive with all the families I work for.  I have to ask for what I need and make it known.

Which reminds me, I need to get myself re-certified in child/infant CPR and first aid.  My current certification expires July 27th.  I want to be re-upped before I go to the playa.

One thing too, that I need to have the families, all the families, get is a first aid kit.

The little one year old boy that I do a ocassional share with my regular Thursday girl, is a complete dare-devil.  He knows no boundaries and wants to crawl, climb, and clamber up anything he can.

He also wants to stand on top of chairs and despite repeated sequestering from just such an act I walk around the corner after scooping the little girl up from the compost bin, to him doing exactly that.

He wobbled and I felt my heart leap into my throat.

It’s not a far fall, he was standing on top of a child’s chair, but still, any little child falling makes me nauseous.  And who wants to explain to the parent that you just weren’t paying attention.  Which is impossible to do 100% of the time.

I can get damn close.

But sometimes you have to leave the room.

It’s either that or you hole up in one place and they can still take a tumble.

Accidents happen, I just like to be prepared for them.

Makes me feel better.

The little girl throwing me a kiss good-bye tonight also makes me feel better.

Not getting hit by the speeding pick up truck on International as I was bicycling back makes me feel better.

Not turning a trick on the corner by the First International Church of Christ helps too.

Not smoking crack is an awesome thing, especially at eleven in the morning on a clear sunny day when there are better things to do instead of fish for crumbs in the pavement.

I have smelled a lot of crack burning in the streets and I am always grateful that today I don’t have to do that.

Instead I get to suck it up and take the opposite directions my heads tells me to do.

I did not isolate tonight.

I did not say fuck it.

I did the next action in front of me and I ran into happy.

That is what it is all about.

Happy.

In case you were wondering.


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