Posts Tagged ‘going away party’

TBD

October 7, 2012

To be discovered.

OR

More will be revealed.

Carolyn pointed this out to me tonight.

Man, it was good to see her.

She and John Ater are hosting my going away party and now she too is getting, the well, what is she, meaning I, going to do when she gets there?  Is she moving for good?

Is it just a visit?

I do not know folks.

I will have to discover what will happen.

I know this much, Barnaby got a hold of me today and said, “I got you a job.”

Well, right on.

That was totally unexpected.  It was followed up by send him a letter and let him know how competent you are.

I can do that.

I am competent.

And it is not necessarily the job that I am interested in, but it is a job and it certainly does not have to be forever.  It can just be for the moment.  It can also be a precursor to what is happening, that there is stuff happening, that I will have employment, that I am, in fact, being taken care of.

I made another connection a few days ago from a friend of a friend who now lives in Paris.  We have connected and I will touch base with her when I get to Paris.

Further, she told me what service to get for my phone when I am over there.

Excellent.

It has been suggested I put my Iphone to sleep and get a burner phone over there.

Over there.

I do like how that sounds.

Although right now over there sounds like my bed, or the Master’s bed, as the case may be.  It is not really my bed, just where I lay my head, and my head is weary.  It was a long day, a fun day, but a long day nonetheless.

About an hour and a half ago I got tired.

I was still in San Francisco and I did not want to get on the BART to come to Oakland, but there was no other way I was getting home, I forgot my head phones at work and my book on the table at Graceland and I just got to make do with the interesting panoply of people on BART after the Giant’s game.

And now I am listening to Mexican carnival music.

It sounds like they have a calliope playing next door, or pan pipes.

Maybe it is Andian music.

It is actually rather sweet.

And tomorrow, I will sleep in.  My body won’t settle for anything less.

I say this now, but I may have to get up early.  I am off to Coastanoa for Tami and Alan’s wedding.  I do not yet know what time Joan is coming to get me.

But I do know that I get a whole day with Joan and that is just splendiferous.

I am very excited.

Despite not having enough brain power right now to even figure out what I am going to wear.  The bride is the show piece, I just want to look presentable.

And wash the bed head out of my hair.

Funny enough, I got quite a few compliments on my hair style today.

Maybe I should go to work rumpled more often.

Although I can do with out the sour kraut juice.  I have my messenger bag in the wash now.

I will say I was in a great mood all day long.  I flirted like a crazy woman.

With babies.

A papa came into the shop with a baby boy, just 9 months, blonde hair, blue eyes, long downy lashes and he looked right at me and I smiled and he smiled and he cooed and grabbed for me.  His father took him right out of his carrier and handed him off to me.

Augustin.

I could have spontaneously conceived on the spot.

The most luscious little monkey and a super flirt.  He snuggled right down on me and cooed and chatted and smiled.  I was in love.  I was right in the middle of drowning my womanly hormones in eau de babe when Lauren walked in.

I got a huge Lauren hug and we talked Oakland and coffee date and must see each other soon.  I am down.

The clock is ticking down.

The time is fast approaching.

I am holding steady, partially out of exhaustion, but mostly out of the unreality of it still all sinking in.

I did practice tonight though, when I saw John Ater outside of Starbucks on 24th and Noe I double kissed his cheeks.

That is how the French do it, I better get used to it.

And Carolyn is right, more will be revealed.

Maybe I live there ten years.

Maybe I live there ten days.

I do not know.

But I am going to live there.

Its all yours, even when its not

September 12, 2012

It is all mine.

An embarrassment of riches.

I had the pleasure of getting pleasured last night.

And the lady will leave it at that.

Then I got asked out on a date by another man.

What is going on?

Oh yeah, I am moving to Paris.

I am also lighting it on fire on OkStupid.  But let me to say I am so not interested.  It is not worth the time, effort, or thought behind making myself any way available.  I have the time for known entities, not unknown.

I have thought about taking down the profile and when I attempted I could not figure it out.  Sometimes I think it is a miracle that I even manage to get this blog posted.

I am tired today, but a good kind of tired.

Ahem.

Work has been mellow, busy, but mellow.  I have nothing invested in it.  I find that I am able to go in, do the job, do it well, then leave. I will let my fellow co-workers get busy staying past close to build bikes.

Been there.

Done that.

Moving on.

I am still not quite sure how I am taking it all in.  It does not seem to be being taken in.  I have had a moment now and again when the fleeting thought whisks through my brain, “well I’ll be in Paris at that point,” and I just stop.

I’ll be what?

I’ll be where?

Are you nuts?

I hung out for a little while with John Ater tonight and told him of my “plans” how I had gotten a dj and was going to rent a room and how I needed to find a PA system and, and, and…

“Honey, remember what I said about not planning your own going away party?”

I almost kicked him.

He burst out laughing, I was pouting.

I hate it when he’s right.

“Who do you want to host the party?”  He asked.

“You,”  I said emphatically.

“Well, that’s nice, but I do not have a place to do so,” and he sagely looked at me, with just the top part of his eyebrow lifted.

“Carloyn did say I could have it at her house in Noe Valley,” I replied petulantly.

“Well, there you go, and why don’t you want to have it there?”

Because god damn it I want to do it all myself and how dare you show me that you care about me and it is too freaking intimate and I will cry and no.

NO.

I just about stamped my foot.

I really did.

John laughed.

“Let her know I will co-host the party,” John said.

Sigh.

Ok.

Fuck.

I guess I will ask Carolyn to let me have the party at her house, since she already offered and I can stop trying to make arrangements and do it my way, and run the whole damn show.

I am so good at that.

Running the show.

Honestly, I still know nothing.  I think I know something or someone, or even myself and then something changes, shifts, alters, and my perception completely changes.

Like my hair color.

I will tell the Robert that I will not be needing his dj services.  I cannot imagine that Carolyn needs a dj at her house.  I will go with simple, easy, and without my arranging, manipulating or trying to make it all happen.

Because I know what is right.

I am holding onto the idea even now, even as I type, yet I know John is right and I would rather be happy than right.

Happy.

Morning sex.

Happy.

Ooops.

How did that slip in there?

And what the hell am I going to wear on tomorrow’s date.  I actually did not know whether or not I should go and every single woman I spoke to, said go.  In fact, a couple of them said, go tonight.

The original ask was for this evening.

Frankly I am a hussy, but even I cannot imagine showing up for a date with my bed head.

I mean it looked rather fetching pulled up off my nape in a messy bun for work, but I smelled like Irish Spring.

Boys.

They do not have the best shower soap.

Actually, it smelled good on him.

I am just used to my vanilla and almond and coconut and tangerine and soft and sultry and sensual smells.

I laughed when I was at work and raised my arm and caught a whiff of Irish Spring.

When was the last time I smelled like that?

Remember the commercials?

“Get’s a strong man fresh.”

Ha.

Better that then go into work smelling like I had just rolled in the hay.

Hey.

Maybe that was why work was so relaxed.

Double ha.

So what to wear tomorrow.

Not the blue jean micro mini skirt.

I am getting picked up from work in a convertible BMW, I think it’s a BMW, fuck if I know.  It is a nice car and he is a nice guy and he took me to a really nice meal the last time we went out, but I have no clue if he has any interest in me.

And I just re-read that while I was typing it and realized, duh, he is interested in me if he left me a message while I was at Burning Man, asked me to call him when I got back, asked me out, and is picking me up from work tomorrow.

Fuck.

What am I going to wear?

And is it too late to ask where the hell we are going?

And double fuck, I have blue hair.

He has not seen the crazy hair.

Oh well.

I do not actually believe anything is going to come of it.  He is a nice guy.  Do I do nice guys?

And I don’t mean it like that sounds.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

I mean, he’s nice, a wee bit pedestrian, and sweet.

I like sweet, I like nice, I like…

I like it dirty.

Who the hell am I kidding?

I like to play and I like to be a tom girl and I ride a fixed gear and I can play at wanting to be a polite mannered marm, but the fact is that I play hard and I don’t know that this guy is that kind of guy.

Then again, I guess I won’t find out until I go out on more than one date.

What am I going to wear?

I keep envisioning heels, but I know I will be riding my bike and the last thing I want to do is ride through Oakland to the Fruitvale BART in heels.

I like to go fast.

Maybe put heels in bag?

That’s hot, showing up for date with my messenger bag and dirty Converse.

Although, I suppose it’s better than showing up with I just had sex hair.


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