Sweet Heart

That’s what I was called today.

Not by a lover.

Nor a friend.

Not a cat call.

Not someone trying to get something from me.

Nope.

MY BOSS.

That was in response to a message I had sent.

For offereing to make dinner and sending the mom and dad fun pictures of the charges at the park on the slide.

“You’re such a sweetheart!”

I’ll take that.

It feels really quite nice to be in my job right now, it’s been just a touch over two months and I really feel a part of.

Sometimes that can be challenging as I am navigating waters I haven’t had much experience with, English as a second language for the kids, but I’m figuring it out and it’s been an adventure.

Most times I don’t have a problem when my family speaks in their mother tongue.

In fact, it’s kind of nice to not know what someone is saying.

Their language is not a romance language.

I know I’m being vague, but I have a signed confidentiality agreement and I feel like if I go into too many details it would not be cool.

I’ll leave it at I’m happy to be with them and I feel very appreciated.

Which just makes me want to do a better job.

I am grateful for them.

I have been grateful for every job that I have had, regardless of conflict or challenge, because they have led here and here is pretty fucking awesome.

I feel good.

I feel serene.

I feel easy in my skin.

I have my school work ready for this upcoming weekend of classes.

I was able to run some personal errands today at work, while running errands for the family, and I was able to grab some toiletries and household things I’ll need for over the weekend.

I was able to run to the grocery store after work before doing the deal and get some fruit and veggies and almond milk to have in the house to supplement the food I made over the weekend for class.

I even got to sneak in a visit with a friend who I have not seen in a little while who I have been trying to hang out with.

Totally serendipitous and partially because I had a cancellation tonight.

My person and I were supposed to meet, but he got the flu and I ended up having a tiny chunk of time that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

I connected with my friend, got to get my “I’m going to Paris in May,” dork on, and then when the clock was getting late, scoot on out the door, hop on my scooter and zoom zip across town.

And now I’m home.

Cozy.

Sipping hot tea and blogging.

Listening to St. Germaine and dreaming about my trip.

I am so excited to get to go again.

I am remiss that my friend, with whom I had planned the trip won’t be able to go, but hey, she’s got a great reason, she’s close to term with twins and can’t fly.

So.

Yeah.

She’ll be staying here.

I’m sad that I won’t get to experience Paris with her, but I’m cool on my own in Paris, I get along just fine.

And I will have friends there.

Because I have friends that live there and folks I know in the fellowship.

And a friend of mine will be visiting there with his mom.

He was supposed to come and visit me when I was living there but we missed each other.

I’ll get to be his tour guide for him and his mom for a few days, I think they overlap and are either going to London or Rome part of the time I’m in Paris.

I will be there ten days.

Ten days.

Dreamy sigh.

In May.

Another big dreamy sigh.

I’m so happy I’ll be going in spring, especially since the last two times I was there was during winter and it was cold.

And dark.

And grey.

I remember a dear friend of mine saying to me when I moved back how happy she was that I was back in San Francisco, in California, in the sun, that all the pictures I had taken in Paris when I lived there were lovely, but so grey and dark and depressing.

Paris is dark, grey, cold and depressing in the winter.

It is true.

Romantic, gothic, gorgeous.

But.

Cold, dark, and depressing for sure.

So to get to go in May, when the nights are shorter, the days are longer, and the weather is warmer.

Yes.

And more yes please.

Walks along the Seine.

Trips to the Jeu de Paume–the modern art photography museum.

Walks through the Tuilleries.

Walks in the Luxembourg Gardens.

Walks in Bois de Bologne.

Walks in the Marais.

Walks, and walks, and more walks.

And then.

Sitting in cafes.

Drinking cafe creme and people watching.

Then.

More walking.

The marches, the markets, the brocantes, the flea markets, the book stalls, the vintage clothes and jewelry.

Oh yes, that too.

And.

I have friends who are musicians.

I need to go to some nightclubs.

I didn’t do that too much when I lived there, although I did go to one big underground show that blew my lid off.

I knew the dj who was spinning and had no clue the venue was going to be so big and so packed.

It was amazing.

I also know a jazz saxophonist, a blues singer and a jazz singer.

I could get some late night jazz on in Paris.

Yes.

Oh, yes, I could.

I will also get myself a couple of things that I didn’t get to when I was there last.

I need another hat.

I want a market basket purse from either Marche des Rouge Enfants in the Marais or another canvas sack from Le Merle Moquer, my favorite bookstore in Paris.

And something small and whimsical from Fleux, a store in the Marais that has amazing household items, reminds me a tiny bit of Ikea, but super cool, chic, fun, unusual things.

I got my hot pink bunny Pylon bank there when I was living in Paris.

And.

When I was last there I scored a pickle jar lamp that has a miniature Eiffel Tower on the bottom of it.

It is just so quaint and sweet and I adore it.

I turn it on and it always makes me smile.

Ah.

So much to smile about.

Life.

Well.

Life is fucking good.

That’s what.

Seriously.

Life.

Is.

So.

Damn.

Good.

Miss Popularity

Is how I felt today.

I got asked out to lunch by a couple of different people today, plus I got to confirm my travel plans for Thanksgiving and chat with my French girl friend about our travel plans in May to Paris.

Wow.

I am liked.

I know.

I sound kind of like I need to be in therapy, and granted, there will be that part to my program, I have to do a year of therapy in the modality that I want to specialize in, but it was nice, sweet, loving, to feel so embraced and sought out.

I have lunch plans for tomorrow and made lunch plans for the next time I meet with my cohort.

It’s kind of crazy to think that we are almost 3/4s of the way through the semester.

I turned in my two big papers, confirmed that I will be presenting my final project for Child Therapy the first day of class next weekend, and felt really prepared.

It felt good.

Albeit.

I was definitely tired by the end of the day and my last class, dragging a bit, but I got through and had a good day in classes.

We did teacher evaluations for two of my classes and that took up a good deal of time and I also got to see where I want to focus my next bit of energy on–practicum, which is basically training and beginning the process of becoming an intern.

There is so much to do all the time.

I got home and cued up an episode of This American Life to review for my Psychopathology class and started listening to it while I was cleaning out my e-mails and putting together may materials for tomorrow.

Then I realized.

Oh.

It’s going to rain tomorrow.

No scooter riding into school.

Either I catch the MUNI or I catch a car into class.

And either way that means I’ll be in transit and I can listen to the homework assignment on the way to class.

Much more efficient use of my time.

I will write my blog, unwind a little, have a snack, a cup of tea, a little snippet of a video and go to bed.

I will attempt to get more sleep then I did last night.

I will also not be carrying as many books into class.

I simplified down what I am going to bring and will just really be showing up with my DSM V desk reference and my notebooks for class.

I have to say I have engaged with the material and I’m finding some interest and insight, but two out of my three classes are falling a little bit flat and I’m not too excited to be in them.

I have been participating and listening, but I’m not on fire for them.

Which is ok, but makes the day feel a little long.

Fortunately.

I really do have some good friends in my cohort and it felt really sweet and nice to be sought out for lunch dates and travel plans.

Plus.

I got to talk with my girl friend who I will be going to Nevada with and make our travel plans, so excited to get to have a road trip with my friend and be included in her family and home.

She’s coming back into town Tuesday evening, she’ll spend the night and we will leave Wednesday morning to head to Nevada, it’ll be about a three and a half to four-hour trip.

Perfect little road trip.

I am excited.

I do love a drive in a car, I do, I do.

I am very American that way.

I am a passionate observer and I will be taking my camera and I will figure out how to get my photographs to download.

I will.

I’ll be spending Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday night there, then we will drive back and she’ll spend Saturday night here in town with me and leave for San Diego in the morning where she’ll be heading to work.

Five nights of girl time!

Very excited.

And though I joked about doing some pleasure reading I may well take the time to catch up on my reading and also start getting my praticum applications ready and working on my resume.

I’m not really sure what the sites will be looking for in regards to a resume, but I’ll be talking with the practicum advisor tomorrow.

So.

I will have some vacation time and lots of girl time I do have a few things I need to attend to.

As well as registering for my next semester of classes on November 27th.

There is much to do.

I don’t want to fall into living in the future though, not too much, there is only so much I can do at any given moment and man, I do attend to a lot.

My biggest focus for the rest of the weekend will be doing my self-care, writing in the morning before class, eating well, getting as much sleep as I can, and showing up.

I have a big speaking engagement on Sunday after class and then right back into a full day of work on Monday.

Right now.

A little jazz on the stereo.

A little easiness in my body.

I little grace to know that all the work is slowly adding up.

And my friendships with the people in my cohort, how important it is to cultivate those too.

There’s a get together tomorrow night after class and I’m not sure I can commit to that, but I may try.

It’s not now.

It’s not right here.

And as I look around my clean, yes clean, got to have a clean house before a weekend of classes, with the candles lit and the lights warm and the music and I am just simply here and can rest, well that’s a really nice feeling, really nice.

Made it through day one of the weekend.

Yes.

Good night y’all.

See you on the flip.

You Are Really

In demand.

My boss told me this afternoon when she arrived to the house.

I was busy cooking broccoli soup when she came in.

“How did it go?” She asked, in reference, I’m assuming to the gig yesterday, which she had alluded to when asking me to make a batch of the soup via text when I got into work.

“Good,” I replied and smiled.

As though the two families weren’t in communication, they would have seen each other at school today.

And it did go well.

“Well, you are really in demand,” she continued.  “They loved you and wanted to know if they could get another day with you?”

Oh really?

Nice to hear, but I do wish I was being involved with the conversations.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

“Would that work for you?” I asked, calculating that it could work for me, depending on what day of the week they wanted me.

“Oh, absolutely, in fact, I was asked by another parent if you’re available in January,” she finished.

Oh really?

I mean, how very interesting, timely, and rather amazing.

I was asked for my resume yesterday for a friend who has a friend who just had a new baby.

I worked on it today before work, updated it, added my graduate school program (what person wouldn’t want someone who is getting a master’s degree?  Especially in psychology, didn’t I tell ya, I’m in Child Therapy class right now?) to my education and updated my current job position.

It looks pretty damn good.

So it was sort of funny, is it odd or is it God?  When I had the conversation with the mom.

It went really well.

We talked about references and referrals and she told me point-blank that she wanted what was best for me, that yes, they would love to have me two days a week, but that was their needs and not mine.

Um.

Yup.

I explained that I was concerned about continuity and with benefits and that it’s a challenge to try to get health insurance and days off for holidays and vacation when I’m piece meal with my jobs.

I don’t want three gigs.

I want one.

To that end we also talked about a soft end date for me, being most likely the end of December, possibly before.

The second family that I started working for this week want me until December 12th.

It might be good timing for me to finish up with both families around the same time.

I’ll also be in my last weekend of school that weekend–the 9, 10th, and 11th.

I was a bit bummed today to realize that was the last weekend of school, having just received a wedding invitation for a dear friend for Saturday December 10th.

I thought for a moment about not going, then I was like, fuck that, I’m going.

I’ll do my morning class and leave at the break for my second class.  I’ll miss the evening class, but whatever, I can’t not go to my friend’s wedding.

I sent in my RSVP yes earlier.

I also talked with my French friend about Paris in May.

Oh, the sound of that.

I do so adore it.

I’ll probably buy a ticket here pretty soon.

Although I may wait until I suss out employment.

But.

Fuck.

The tickets are a good price right now.

I found one for $741 round trip direct.

That’s sort of insane for Paris.

I wanted to buy the ticket right now.

I’m just going to pause one more night and wait on my friend’s confirmation of the times that she will be in Paris.

She’ll be studying for her exams and I’ll be mostly on my own to do my own thing.

No problems with that.

The only thing I will want to do prior is get a new camera.

Mine did hit the dust, literally and figuratively after Burning Man.

I was able to retrieve the photographs off of it that I had taken, but there was no getting the camera to work anymore.

I had to say good-bye and trashed it.

I will definitely get another one before I travel.

Heck.

I may want one for November travel as well.

I’ll be headed to Nevada for Thanksgiving.

I was invited to a friend’s house and she’s willing to make the trip to pick me up and to bring me back.

Road trip!

I’m excited for a little side trip to Nevada.

I’m sure it will be pretty, it will be great to have some time with my friend, and it’s nice to be wanted.

That’s what today felt like.

Lots of being wanted.

I felt really good today.

Very alive.

Of course, it may just be that I got caught up on all the sleep I missed over the weekend with classes and the new gig yesterday.

I decided to skip yoga and sleep in.

I am so glad I did.

I needed to work on the resume and I paid rent and put some money in my savings account and did some writing.

I felt all adult and accomplished and proud of myself for taking the time to deal with the stuff that’s been nagging at me to do since the whole work thing sort of dropped on me last Monday.

Grateful beyond words that I have a job while I look for my next one, that I have great references, that my family is willing to refer me out and that they already have people asking for me.

Again.

It’s really nice to be wanted.

It’s something that I need to know.

I haven’t always wanted to see it or acknowledge it, but it’s important to see it.

I sent a thank you text to a friend of mine today for giving me some really insightful words regarding my job and moving forward and she replied, “just reminding you of your superhero powers.”

God, it’s good to be seen.

And.

Loved.

That’s what I feel like today.

Thanks friends.

Y’all rock.

Seriously.

Wow

That was a long day.

I mean.

Seriously.

First day at the new Monday gig and it went 10 hours.

Whew.

But I got through it.

And yes, the 20 month old did nap, but it was a challenge to get her down, it didn’t happen right away and there was a lot of stops and starts with it.

Harder than I had anticipated.

But.

Then again.

Oh, the baby sweetness and toes and feet, and the stroller and being outside and not being on a monitor all the time.

The freedom.

Not that I did anything different from what I really always do.

However.

I felt less restrained and more comfortable, although a bit awkward, new house, new things to figure out, new switches, sets of keys…

Fuck.

The keys I have on my key ring right now.

Nice to be trusted.

I literally have the keys to three different million dollar homes in San Francisco.

Crazy.

And grateful that I am so trusted.

“We really felt good leaving her with you, and she’s obviously so happy and you guys look like you had a great day,” the mom said when she came home.

“And oh my God, the house, it looks great,” she added.

Then paid me.

In cash.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Glad to be of service.

But man oh man.

I don’t think I could keep up these kinds of hours for very long.

It’s too much.

Even with the baby napping part of it.

I was up to go to the bathroom before the sunrise and as I was about to hop back in bed, gratefully thinking I had a few more hours of sleep, my alarm went off.

I actually cried out loud, “NOOOOOOO.”

6 a.m.

Oof.

I know some people are morning people, and that’s great, I’m much more of a morning person than I used to be, but 6 a.m. is an early start.

Especially after putting in 29 hours of classes over the weekend.

And a full rather hectic week of work prior to that.

It was a big week, weekend, and now the start of the next week, which began with a 10 hour shift with a new family, family dynamic, household, schedule, and children.

No biggie.

Falls in heap on floor.

I’ve got my alarm set for 8 a.m. for tomorrow.

I’m hoping on getting to the yoga studio.

It’s been too long since I went.

All the tumult last week, the weekend of school and this super long Monday has meant no yoga for a week and a half I think.

Too long.

I may change my mind and just wait until Wednesday.

It might be nice to get a full night’s rest and be prepared for whatever is going to be happening at my regular job the rest of the week.

And.

I have also been approached by another friend who has a friend who just had a baby and is beginning the nanny hunt.

I need to update my resume and forward that to her.

I was just too busy today with the new job to do it.

And I feel too tired right now to fully give it my attention.

Although I know I should get it to her as soon as I can.

I haven’t looked at my resume in a few years, it’s time to polish it.

It really doesn’t need a whole lot, just an update on what I have been doing for the last two years, my current job and graduate school.

Ooh.

I get to put my masters program on my resume, excellent.

That will be fun.

I had forgotten about that.

I actually brought school work with me today, but didn’t get the chance to address it what with the baby’s erratic sleeping.

Homework.

Oh.

All the homework.

A day off is probably not a bad idea.

I also went to see some folks at Our Lady of Safeway tonight and that was good.

A little reunion of sorts.

And.

Bumping into a guy I always have had a sort of crush on and not doing anything about it.

No chasing.

I have to say though, I’m getting tired of writing down the paragraph every day of what an adult man looks like and what qualities I am looking for in a romantic mate.

And waiting to be pursued.

But then again.

I see very clearly when it doesn’t work for me and how chasing is never the answer, so when the man tonight didn’t seem all that interested, I stopped thinking about the pursuit and just came home.

There is nothing to do.

No Tinder dance to tango.

No OkStupid.

No chasing boys.

No mothering men who need care taking.

Just sitting still and really letting it all go.

I don’t actually need to be in a relationship.

I have so very much.

Yes.

It’s a goal.

But I’m not going to wait on my life to do things and feel things and have experiences.

Fuck no.

And by letting go, surrendering to the moment, I usually am better off anyway.

They say surrender is going over to the winning side.

I like that.

I have not been successful at dating.

Although, I think that’s incorrect.

I have dated and learned a lot in this past year, starting around February, the day after Valentines Day, when I allowed myself to be approached at the grocery store and asked out on a date.

I have dated a lot since then.

Tried a lot of stuff.

Hooked up a few times.

Went dancing.

Had some meals.

Had some uncomfortable dates, some fun dates, some horrible dates.

I wouldn’t say I’m a failure at dating.

I’m actually a lot better at it then I was at the beginning of the year.

I can’t make magic happen though and I think that’s what is next.

Just letting the magic come to me instead of trying to figure it out.

Figure it out isn’t a slogan.

And until then.

Well.

Fuck.

I have a lot going on.

Full time work, full-time grad school, full time recovery, yoga, writing.

I have enough.

I am enough.

Life is great.

And this Monday is done.

Stick a fork in it and turn it over.

 

Making Plans

I knew I was going to say yes before she even finished asking me.

I know to say yes.

Even when there was a tiny voice in my head that said, “but what about work?”

What the fuck about it?

I have no idea where I’m going to be working in May.

Granted.

Yes.

I will have a job.

One always comes around.

For instance.

This new gig tomorrow could lead to my next job (I am still working for my current family, but I’ll be Monday with this new family).  The family is fantastic, friends of my current family, living up in Eureka Valley, on a block, is it possible?  That doesn’t have parking permit issues, meaning I can park my scooter on the street without having to worry about moving it.

The 20 month old is delicious.

And.

Oh.

Wait.

For.

It.

She takes two-hour naps.

Bless you little girl.

I am so excited for two hours naps and parents that don’t work from home.

I got the impression that there will be some overlap occasionally, that one of the parents will be there, but for the most part it will be me and the 20 month old for six hours and then a mixture of the two other brothers.

Both of whom are in school.

This gig starts this Monday and will be every Monday until December 12th.

I am thinking at that time I will have secured my next gig, whatever that will be.

I may also take a little time off at that time, give myself a week or so to let myself have a few days off to acclimate and transition.

Plus.

I’ll be thick into my final papers for the semester.

But.

I’m also thinking further ahead.

All the way to May.

Yeah.

Like that.

Because today I was asked if I wanted to go on a trip to France in May.

Of course I said yes.

Duh.

I already have looked for tickets.

I know better than to not say yes.

Especially when I was told that I would have all my housing covered.

I would stay with my friend and her family.

She won’t be as available to me as if we were really going on holiday together, she’ll be studying for her exams in France, but I was like.

WHATEVER.

She’s my dear friend.

I love her.

Of course I’m going to say yes.

Besides.

Hello.

FRANCE.

Yes, please.

We would actually go to a few places, not just Paris, take the TGV to Provence, for instance and to the seaside.

Oh yes, I don’t care where I’m working, I can make that work.

Plus, I’ll have a little more financial aid that will come into my pocket come Spring semester.

After my disbursement was made, paying for my summer classes, retreat (intensive, it was an intensive), and my current semester I received $675.

Which you know.

Means working as much as I can to cover the rest of my costs, because that’s basically a half month of rent.

No food.

No phone.

No gas for the scooter.

No insurance.

Definitely no yoga.

Just some money toward 1/2 a month of rent.

I remember laughing to myself when my current employer asked if I would still want to work when I won the scholarship I was awarded.

Um.

Yeah.

I have to.

I live in San Francisco.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t save a for a ten-day jaunt to France.

I can fucking well do that, especially if I don’t have to worry about the cost of hotels and places to stay.

Plus, South of France in May?

Of course I said yes.

I am still saying yes.

I have no clue how it will work out, but I told my friend I knew it would and yes, what a perfect way to cap off the end of the second year of school with a trip with one of my dearest to France.

I’d still fly into Paris, and probably from Paris too.

The TGV, the bullet train, will get me to and from really quick and it’s super affordable.

God.

I am so excited.

This will definitely be a different trip for me than the last time I went to Paris.

First, it will be in Spring.

I haven’t been in Paris in Spring in a while.

It really is the best time to go.

And then to the South of France, in warm weather, all my sundresses are longing to be donned, all my sandals ready to be buckled around my ankles.

Fields of lavender.

The sea-side.

The pool with deck chairs.

Oh goodness.

Such deliciousness awaits, strolls with my friend in the dusk, after dinner when she ends her day of study.

Farmer’s markets, flower markets, and I’m sure I’ll stumble upon some art.

I usually manage.

Second.

It will not be with a man who I am in an unrequited love relationship with.

Nope.

No thank you.

I was deleting some files earlier and stumbled across a section of photos of the two of us in LA last summer and my heart banged around in my chest and I felt some sorrow, a sweep of sadness.

I deleted some of them, but I kept the majority.

I don’t have to wallow in something that never came to fruition, but there was love there and to be reminded of having been loved and having loved another, is a great blessing, even if it was a painful experience.

My.

Oh.

Fucking.

My.

How I did grow.

So.

Yes.

Yes, please, another experience with my dearest Paris.

And my first time going to Provence.

I have been to the South of France, Toulouse, to be exact, but not since 2002 and it was just three days and well, I was tipping back the cocktails a wee bit, so my experience I dare say this time around will be much sweeter, happier, and joyful.

I knew I was going to be going back to France again, I just wasn’t expecting the conversation to pop up today.

How glad I am it did.

It colored everything with delight.

My sweet, sweet life.

Ma vie en rose.

(My life in the pink)

How lucky am I?

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

 

Almost There!

I have successfully made it through two full days of school.

You know.

Oh.

Only.

About 22 hours so far.

And.

Seven hours left to go.

Yes.

Sunday is always the easiest and the hardest.

I’m generally ready to wrap it all up and move on.

Yet.

I feel the loss to the “real world” of my cohort and my two best friends in program.

I am such a lucky girl.

I really am.

I have gotten to have this terrific experience and make some amazing friends.

There are people in my life that I so appreciate and love that it makes me almost faint with the feeling.

I had a really nice lunch today with one of my friends and we talked love and life and school, crushes, relationships, sex, travel, Paris, grace, talent, gifts, the things we appreciate about each other and how we just got to be in the right place at the right time to make the connection.

She is amongst a few of my friends whom are incredulous that I am not in a serious dating relationship.

At this point.

I have no real issue with it.

I’m who I am and I am exactly where I’m supposed to be and there’s no changing me or making me better, I’m just perfect.

Imperfectly so.

I don’t have to embark on some self-improvement plan.

Granted there is still so many areas where I can and do get to grow.

Great.

Glad to hear it.

I’m down for some more fun though.

That’s generally where I am at this point in the school weekend too, I want to play, but I still have one more day of getting through and tonight is not the time to play.

Despite having just done a big session of play therapy in my Child Therapy class.

Not quite the same kind of playing that I am alluding to.

Ahem.

Anyway.

I’m just glad to have the energy to be writing my blog and doing the little things here at home to get me ready for my last day of the class.

Then.

I’ll have almost a month off.

Well.

Not really off.

I have papers that will need to be written.

Two so far on the plate.

And of course, loads and loads of reading.

I think I may also have another paper to write, but I don’t feel like looking at the syllabus right at the moment.

I am just happy to be getting through the weekend.

I also made an appointment to see my advisor next Friday and well, get some advising.

Sometimes the experience feels overwhelming and I don’t think I’m going to make it.

Then.

Days like today, when everything flows and I have connection to the material, not always to the way it is taught, I don’t feel quite as connected to the classes and teachers as I have in the previous semesters, but there is some excitement in learning new tools and having new experiences.

I still feel like I need a little play.

I have some dance music on ye olde Spotify.

The Kungs.

I am quite digging on them.

My dear, darling, amazing, sweet, kind, French friend made me a play list and I fell in love with so much of it, and a few of the artists I have ended up adding to my list of albums and I have been listening to The Rooftop Sessions from the Kungs and it just makes me happy and joyful and full of dancing energy.

I could just jam out on this for a little while before making another cup of tea and winding down for the night.

I really don’t want to wind down for the night.

But.

Ah.

Balance.

And I suppose this is good for me, a weekend of school before starting the new gig on Monday.

I’m not terribly happy about that, I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about it today, I figure no use in getting resentful.

I don’t care for how I felt manipulated into taking the job, but despite the way it happened I do believe it will lead me other places.

I remind myself.

There are no mistakes in God’s world.

I’ll be heading over to the new family after school tomorrow to see the house and get a lay of the land.

I’m going to make it brief and see if I can hit up some of my fellows after that.

I miss my people.

I also do, after a long weekend of school, I don’t get the interactions and connections that are so vital to me over the weekend, especially getting grounded before starting out another week of work.

That being said.

I have had strong connections to my school friends and I feel really held and supported within the cohort.

I feel like I have a place and I have a talent for doing the work.

Grateful.

So grateful.

For these things.

People who see me and allow me to be myself.

I am more and more my authentic self and easier in myself with embracing it all.

There is a great feeling of seeing myself and being transparent.

I feel like there are times when I am pigeon holed or seen in a certain light or manner or style and there’s good reasons for that.

Some of it is a defended stance, I have had a lot of grief at the hands of some and I am tender around how I interact with the world.

But.

Sometimes.

Some people.

Wow.

I just let them right the hell in.

Two of my friends in school remind of that.

How lucky I am that we connected and that I get to be with these bright, beautiful creatures.

It is an amazing gift.

God damn, this music is so good.

I’m crushed out on my life.

My music.

The warm feel in my heart for my friends.

The blessing of getting to be in grad school.

The growth.

And.

Oh.

Yes.

All.

The.

Love.

Seriously.

Luckiest girl in the world.

The Pink Lady

Rides again!

Yes.

I got my new Corazzo jacket in the post today while I was at school.

So glad to have a nice motorcycle jacket again.

Of course I got the pink one.

Please people.

I love pink.

Not.

However, that it is my favorite color.

Nope.

It is not.

But.

I like being a cute girly girl on my scooter with my little applied star stickers and my star and sparkle helmet.

And.

My awesome new Corazzo pink riding jacket.

I was a little flummoxed when I got home, though.

For a minute, or five, it was not much fun, I thought the latch on my scooter seat was broken and that I couldn’t get my seat open.

Which meant.

I couldn’t get to my purse, my house keys, my phone.

Fuck me.

I stood outside the gate, I could see the package inside the door.

Irony.

God having a good chuckle at me.

I don’t know.

But.

I did manage to get my seat open, turns out the latch was never really quite latched, the strap to my purse was caught in the spot where it should have latched.

Instead it just reminded me to slow down.

I tend to go fast.

Zoom.

Zip.

Slow down.

Take it easy.

One moment at a time.

No where that I have to get to that fast.

I can be quick to the gas, pressing it forward, going quick.

I like speed.

Sometimes, most times, it’s a feeling of freedom, but it can also be a way to escape the situation, quick, get the fuck out of here, run before there’s a feeling, a connection, an intimacy.

Grateful I know this about myself.

And.

Grateful my friends are persistent with me.

I am thinking of my two best girl friends in my cohort and how wildly grateful I was for their presence today in school.

Especially after the unnecessary anxiety I felt yesterday.

The classes turned out to be just fine today.

And yes.

I do still have reading I need to do, but I handed in both my papers and there were folks who did not have the papers to hand in.

And I could tell there were plenty of folks who hadn’t done all the reading either.

But I had done enough, enough to stay in the flow of what was happening in each of the classes and to participate, which is huge in my schooling experience.

If I participate, the teacher remembers me, I get attention, positive for the most part, and I am a part of the experience.

That’s what I prayed for today, to be of service to my cohort, to show up without expectation, to be myself, to help where I could and to do good self-care.

I brought my lunch, my dinner, my homemade cold brewed coffee.

I had tea for the evening class that wasn’t caffeinated.

I had lunch with one of my darling friends.

I have a lunch date with the other tomorrow.

I was extended a Thanksgiving invitation that I am very seriously considering taking too.

So glad for these women in my life.

So glad that I just showed up.

Showing up is so much of the battle for me.

It’s a big deal.

Especially when I can run from things, or stick my head in the sand or not participate out of fear.

Actually.

I have gotten a lot better at walking through the fear and letting myself be emotionally vulnerable in class.

I mean.

Fuck.

I am going to school to become a therapist, I better be in touch with my feelings.

I volunteered to do a demo with one of my professors today and that was great.

The class got to practice assessing my presenting problem.

Was it PTSD?

Or.

Was it Major Depressive Order?

I’ll let you in on a secret.

It was probably both, but what I was presenting with was PTSD.

And it was the first time I actually understood what the hell was being shown when I was originally diagnosed with it.

I read it in the DSM 5.

I noted the presenting symptoms.

And voila!

I got to diagnose myself.

Not that I recommend that.

And frankly.

I did feel some tenderness around myself and a lack of wanting to engage with certain people and relationships in my life.

I needed a break from looking at all the child hood stuff.

I had to take it gentle and do some self-care.

There’s still stuff to work out and I could go into further detail, but really, why?

It’ll get worked out and it doesn’t need to quite be in this public of a forum.

Besides.

Read enough of my older blogs and you’ll make a damn good guess at some of the traumas I got to live through.

And come out stronger.

Not that I’m advocating trauma for growth.

It just happens to be a part of my journey.

That’s all.

No judgements around it other than I get to be really kind to myself.

Which meant coming home tonight instead of going out with friends from school.

Or.

Friends from life.

“What are you doing tonight?” A new friend text me as I was wrapping up my final class of the day.

I told her I was still at school.

Really my plans.

Go home.

Rub one out.

Take a shower.

Write my blog.

Drink some hot tea.

Watch a snippet of a video.

Go to bed.

Get up and do it all again tomorrow.

The only difference being.

I will be attired in pink.

So.

Very.

Pretty.

In pink.

Yes.

Please.

There Is Only

So much I can do.

I told myself as I felt completely blown out of the water by an e-mail I got from one of my professor’s today right before I left for work.

It was a cheery, chatty little hello death bomb.

You want me to what?

Why are you telling me this now?

It’s the fucking day before class and I’m working you twat.

Fuck me.

You can’t spring an assignment on me that last-minute.

I was spaced out the entire time I was on my scooter heading into work.

I kept having to pull my attention right back to the road, to the moment, to the feel of the wind on my body, to the blue sky over me, to the cars in front of me, the lights and the intersections.

By the time I got to work I felt overwhelmed and anxious as fuck.

I called a few people.

I felt the fear like a strangle hold on my neck.

I couldn’t breathe.

I started diagnosing myself with affective disorders from the DSM 5.

Just a little light reading before heading into work, no  worries.

I joke with one of my cohort that there should be a diagnosis in the DSM 5 for anxiety caused from being in graduate school.

I broke it down to myself today.

I can only do so much.

Listen.

The fact that I got out of bed, made it, and prayed was a big deal.

The fact that my rent is paid, my phone is paid, I have a clean home, my fridge is stocked with food I have cooked for the weekend of classes, that I have a job to go to, it’s enough.

I told myself these things.

I looked up at the trees, green, gold, red tinged with yellow against the cerulean blue sky, the cooing of mourning doves on the telephone wire, the warm sun, the cool wind.

I breathed.

In and out.

All I need to do is this.

Breathe and do the next action in front of me.

Panic is not going to help.

I look at all the things I do right.

I am not drinking, smoking, or blowing lines of cocaine.

I don’t eat sugar or flour.

I have a prayer practice for fuck sake.

I’m doing ok.

If grad school imploded.

I’ll be ok.

“Carmen, even at your worst, you are a rock star student,” she just assured me over the phone.

Thank God for my people and their perspectives.

Plus.

I had a major curve ball thrown my way with work this week.

Not like that hasn’t affected me a bit.

Please.

Be nice to yourself.

I caught my breath.

I got my bearings.

I knew I was ok.

I knew it was enough.

It just has to be good enough.

I just show up and that’s the majority of the battle anyway.

The nice thing for me too is knowing that I have to do a certain amount of self-care, this blog is one of the things I do for myself.

And you thought it was all about you, didn’t you, you sexy thing.

No.

I don’t much write with the audience in mind.

If I do I might freak out.

MY MOTHER COULD BE READING THIS RIGHT NOW.

Jesus fuck.

That’s enough to make a person edit themselves.

Heh.

But no.

I digress.

I know there’s only so much that can be done in a day and I do so much.

Really I do.

Even when I lose focus, even when I get complicated in my head, even when I want to shout, don’t you see how hard I’m trying?

There is no one to shout these things to.

Just me.

Whistling in the dark.

As the case may be.

But I think of the owl, the heart shape of his face, the cold dark eyes, the white fluttering wings, and I feel that I am just exactly where I am supposed to be, learning all the things I need to learn.

“People tell you who they are in the first moments you meet them,” he told me gently.

Yes.

What do I tell people in those first moments?

Can I treat myself kind so that others may give themselves permission to do so as well.

Can I smile.

Offer the kindness of a gracious demeanor, can I say thank you and please and you are welcome and it’s nice to see you too.

Can I remember a person’s name.

I can.

And I got through the day.

Granted I had to talk myself out of a hole a few times.

I fell in it.

But.

I also got to smile at the cashier at the market and wish her a happy day, I got to say thank you to Dave Hale who always has the best apples at the Bartlett Farmer’s Market, I got to get hugs from the boys and kisses from the dog.

I got to raise my head to the sunshine and lift my face in the wind.

I get to show up tomorrow and I get to be in graduate school.

If life were fair I’d be in the gutter.

Or.

Dead.

I mean.

Let me be honest.

I should not be here.

Too many things colluded against me for my life not to be viewed as a miraculous, magical, amazing gift.

I get to do all these things.

And I’m grateful I got this thing called perspective in my back pocket.

All I have to do is look around my beautiful little home to know that.

I have so much.

And when my head tells me I’m not enough I know that I don’t have to listen to that lie, that’s just an old tape that needs to get thrown in the garbage, not put on the negative feed back loop.

The highlights of my life are still to come.

It is only getting better.

Seriously.

 

I Have Been Having A

She’s too fat for me moment.

Fucking polka.

Fucking Essen Haus and the obnoxiousness of the cd player with a six carousel disc changer that had this album on repeat.

All the days and nights of listening to the oompa loompa music and the polka bands and the swing ladies with their ruffled panties and square dance crinolines.

The men, boys really, who hooted and hollered and goosed your ass and knew all the words to the She’s Too Fat For Me Polka.

I’m not shitting you.

It’s a fucking polka.

I don’t want her
You can have her
She’s too fat for me.
She’s too fat for me. She’s too fat for me
Oh
I don’t want her
You can have her
Please do that for me
She’s too fat
She’s too fat. She’s too fat for me.
I get dizzy
I get numbo.
When I’m dancing with my Jum-Jum-Jumbo.
She’s a twosome
She’s a foursomeIf she’d lose some I would like her moresome.

A polka that got stuck in my head today and I just wanted to shoot myself from it.

I have a date tomorrow.

It’s a bit of a blind date.

He hit me up on Tinder months ago and it turns out that he’s in my club, my secret, wink, wink, nudge, nudge club, and well, fuck you’re hot, but I don’t date guys with less than a year’s time.

Well.

Guess who got a year while I was at Burning Man?

Guess who texted me today and guess who has a date for tomorrow?

Um yeah.

And.

Ugh.

He might be at my yoga class in the morning.

I was like.

Noooooooooooooooo.

I mean, sure, that’d be fun, you’ll get to see me for the first time about a half hour after I wake up in the morning and my hairs in a bun on top of my head and no make up and I’m in crazy yoga pants and I’m not that good at yoga, and you’re like a fucking firefighter who surfs and is like cut and ding, ding, ding.

She’s Too Fat For Me Polka.

Bright and loud in my head.

I could slap myself.

THANKS BRAIN.

And the thing is.

Who the fuck cares?

I might not be this guys type.

But.

I am some guy’s type.

And.

I have another date on Sunday, with a guy I know who knows what I look like and so, whatever brain, I’m fine, this guy doesn’t like how I look in yoga pants, who gives a fuck?

Not I said the too fat for me polka.

“Excuse me, sir,” my manager said to my table, a big booth, B-7 I remember it well, at the Essen Haus, “I’m the manager and it appears that you’ve been harassing my employee.”

“AH, we’re just having a good time,” one of the guys laughed and snorted and guzzled some more beer.  I remember it running out the side of his mouth and getting stuck in his beard.

“That’s great, and I encourage a good time and I’m also going to encourage you to leave your waitress a 20% tip or you’ll get cut off and asked to leave my establishment,”  my manager looked the guy in the face who was turning a deep shade of brick red.

“And an apology,” she added.

My manager was a tough cookie, she couldn’t have been more than 23 or 24, fuck I ended up being the god damn GM at the place not soon after at the ripe old age of 22.  I look at 22 year olds today and I just can’t believe I was 22 and running a place that fucking big and busy.

Anyway.

I stood there just about as miserable as the table and wanted to sink into the floor.

I got a mumbled apology from the table and returned to my job.

“Don’t you ever let the fuckers grind you down with that “She’s Too Smart For Me” polka, fucker needs to be taken out who penned that shit,” my manager said fishing the pack of cigarettes out her cleavage.  “I’m gonna take a smoke break, they give you any more shit let me know and I’ll get rid of them.”

She flounced away in her pastel purple dirndl and I went to the bar to refill the boot of beer the table had ordered.

They did leave a good tip, a little over 20% and I kept on keeping on with the job until it was real obvious it was time to go.

It was a hard place to work.

My best friend asked me on the day she trained me, this was before she or I knew we were going to be friends, why I was working there.

“I mean, are you working here because there’s a cute pair of shoes you want to buy at East Towne Mall or are you working here because you need to pay rent?”  She asked me bluntly on the first day I was her service assistant.

“I owe my boyfriend two months back rent,” I said quietly.

“Fantastic!  You’re going to work out just fine,” and she got on with the training.

She was right.

She had a point.

No one works that kind of job for the good times and fun money, they work it because they need the money.

It was a hellish place to work.

Too hot in the summer, freezing in the winter, horrible management, myself included, I mean, come on, who the hell expects a 22 year old to properly be a General Manager of a top 500 company?

People were trashy, red necked, asshats, who tipped for shit and ate a lot of pretzels and wiener schnitzel and prime rib and fuck me, all the good damn Friday night fish fry you could eat, ALL YOU CAN EAT FOR  $8.95.

And boy howdy did they eat.

I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I burnt my arms on the pretzel trays taking them out of a convection oven that was over 500 degrees and walking them through the kitchen, around the expedite line, through the line of fire that was the kitchen door swinging open and shut, “coming through, HOT TRAY,” to finally dump the pan of pretzels in the warmer and then shove the hot tray off into the dish pile.

It was the job where my arches in my feet fell from being so constantly on my feet, running, literally running because it was so busy.

It was also a fantastic place to make friends.

And friends I made.

Friends I still have, twenty years later.

Pretty amazing.

Friends, I’m pretty sure who would say fuck you polka, fuck you too fat for me, she’s just fucking perfect.

And I am.

The date is just another experience and another step toward whomever I’m supposed to be with.

God’s got me.

I ain’t worried.

And I’m certainly not too fat for a mate.

Thanks for sharing head.

Now fuck off or I’ll sick my manager on you.

She’ll be back from her smoke break shortly.

Heh.

Holy Shit

I’m packed.

I sort of want to throw up in my mouth.

It’s just stuff and things.

I told myself as I looked over the stack.

Three bins, one cooler, one tent, one camp chair, blankets, bedding, pillows.

It doesn’t sound like much.

But it makes enough of a stack that I am a little concerned about my playa ride share.

He’s got a VW Cabriolet.

He’s also picking up food for some of his camp mates plus whatever gear he has and of course water.

I keep envisioning the car already full and there’s no room for my stuff and I’ll have to leave something behind and what the fuck would that be since I have everything I need and want in those bins, clothes, crinolines, boots, tent stakes, work gloves, hammer, lantern, extra batteries, tights galore, bunny slippers, a leopard print coat for night time gamboling.

I need it all.

And I am also still on the look out for a person to bring it all back as well.

I have co-ordinated with the people who are gifting me the airplane ride home, pinch me, it’s still so surreal, and I’ll be meeting them at their camp on Wednesday of the event at noon.

So I’ll need to be all packed down and tidied up by eleven, giving me an hour to get across to them.

It shouldn’t be terribly difficult.

I’ll be camping at 5:40 and Guild with Anonymous Village.

More specifically I’ll be staying with the ladies of the Wolf Pack.

All my things will be staying there to be transported, by whom TBA, including my playa ride, which I will be loaning to a friend who’s going up with her fiancee–it’s his first burn and he doesn’t have a playa ride.

I got some lovely and sweet news today.

My ride will arrive on playa one week from today.

And.

The front fork has been fixed, my tires pumped up, pedals greased, chain greased, and, holy moly talk about service, my bicycle light batteries recharged.

I was just astounded.

Thank you Thumper!!

I have been so blessed with gifts this Burning Man and I haven’t even gotten out there yet, but it does feel like a miraculous thing, this getting out there.

I know I don’t have to worry about my stuff.

It’s all just stuff and things anyhow.

Yet.

I would be upset if it didn’t come home or it was mishandled, but ultimately as long as I get back safe and sound it doesn’t matter about the rest of it.

Sort of.

I would miss my hats and boots and utility belt, my new shoulder harness, my hair flowers and my make up box.

I would miss all my funny knee socks and silly tights.

But ultimately.

I would be ok if somethings went missing.

I repeat.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Ride to the event.

Early Arrival pass.

Fluffing shifts with Media Mecca.

Dusty Family reunion.

Ride home in a Cessna!

I got the low down on that too.

Aside from the meeting the crew, pilot and one other passenger, and getting to the camp by Wednesday noon.

I’ll meet them at their camp which is 7:30 and A at noon with me, myself, and I and one small carry on bag.

They will take me to the airport, load us up and the we fly to Reno, one hour pit stop for refueling and then back into the air, final destination San Carlos airport.

I didn’t even know there’s an airport in San Carlos.

A little secret.

I didn’t even know where the fuck San Carlos was until I googled it.

Heh.

I can BART and MUNI back to my place.

It’ll take about two hours via public transport.

Possibly more.

I may opt for a car.

Not sure yet and I certainly don’t need to figure it out right now.

The plane will be picking up someone in San Carlos and turning right back around.

They could be back in Black Rock City before I even get home!

I am still in shock that I am packed.

Heh.

I still have to re-pack to go back to Glenn Ellen on Monday.

I have been unpacking and repacking my rolling suitcase a lot for the last couple of weeks.

One more go and then I can put it back in the close for a little while.

Such a good little suitcase, it’s been a lot of places-Paris for six months, Rome for a weekend, London for a weekend, New York for two different weekends, Florida twice to see the moms, Anchorage, Alaska, Minneapolis, Madison a couple of times I think, LA, Chicago.

The little suit case that could.

And so many other short little jaunts here and there.

I’m wondering when it’s going to lose the back wheel, it’s starting to wobble a bit, and that will be the end of her, but until then I’ll be hauling it back out for the last week of work before I go to Burning Man.

All the packing.

Whew.

But.

I really am pretty much done.

Today I got the last few things I needed for playa and a couple of household things that I have needed and went around the Haight to peruse the vintage shops and the Burning Man supply stops and you know what I bought?

Post card stamps.

Heh.

I really don’t need anything and though I tried on a bunch of stuff, there really wasn’t a thing that I wanted.

Oh, I had ideas, but they were all thwarted and I realized as I was wandering the foggy street that it was really nice to know I’m prepared and prepped and my food is waiting patiently in my fridge all nice and frozen and really, all I have to do is the next action in front of me.

And it will all happen.

Right on time.

Like it always does.

OH!

The one thing do I need to do, note to self, PRINT OF MY EARLY ARRIVAL PASS.

There.

I will remember that now.

Thanks.

And.

Good night.

xo