Posts Tagged ‘growing up’

Locked Out

May 5, 2018

But not for long.

I was just trying to get onto the student loan site.

I need to apply for a Grad Plus Loan.

I have done this once before, last summer when I was in practicum and realized that it was a two credit course, aka, about $2200 that I needed to come up with in order to pay for the supervision that I needed to begin seeing clients.

The school told me what to do and I did it.

I barely remembered doing it, but today when I went and checked in with the financial aid department they gave me the same instructions.

And yes.

My package that I was granted is $3,000 shy.

So.

Off to http://www.studentloans.gov to get me some more money.

Except, I swear, that they need like the name of my first-born child, a lock of hair from a unicorn mane, a sprinkle of fairy dust, me to click my heels three times in precision and spin around in my kitchen, to get into the damn system.

It’s happened every single time that I have tried to utilize it that it won’t accept the password that I have for it and then it freezes up.

So.

First.

I have to reset the password for the umpteenth time.

Then.

I am told that I have to wait 30 minutes.

What the fuck.

Come on.

You have my social security, my birthdate, my three, THREE, challenge questions, my mother’s maiden name, and my phone number.

Isn’t that fucking enough?

Meh.

Anyway.

Glad to know that I can apply for some more debt, hahaha, sigh, but that it is a resource is a comfort.

Plus.

In my visit I found out that I don’t have to worry about my exit interview to graduate with my Master’s Degree as I have registered for my PhD program as well as having accepted the financial aid package that the school put together for me.

That was good news.

The not so good news.

UGH.

Another motherfucking piece of paperwork has surfaced that I have to get signed.

I do not understand why the hell the school doesn’t give each fucking student a packet of the papers that need to be filled out to each cohort as they come in.

Then I could just pull it out, get it signed and turn it back in.

This whole trying to figure out what I need to get to them is frustrating as fuck.

Listen people.

I have gotten straight A’s and am on track to continue that with the papers I turned in and the presentations I have done, plus I have given you a fuck ton of money.

Stop it already.

Seriously.

So.

I got the two pieces of paperwork from the office and I have them in my folder and one I will get filled out next Saturday when I go to Group Supervision and the other I will have to wait and see until I get a reply from my supervisor that I no longer meet with.

I am going to be hella bummed if he asked me to come in early on Monday.

I am looking forward, in a really dreamy sort of way, to actually sleeping in on Monday.

But.

If I have to go in on Monday morning to get the paperwork signed I will.

I’m sorting of hoping that I’ll be able to do it at another time.

We shall see.

I may not even hear back from him until Monday, his work week is Monday-Thursday, he always takes a three-day weekend.

Private practice goals!

Speaking of.

It felt so good to share with the cohort that I had gotten a private practice internship, it was such a nice way to start the weekend.

As well as reflecting to them how much I have grown and grown up.

I compared it to starting the program riding my bicycle to school.

Then I got a scooter.

And today, well, I drove to school in my car.

And found parking!

So nice.

I reflected how far I have come and how much work I have done and I’m pretty fucking amazed.

Of course.

There are a lot of folks who helped me a long the way, some in small ways, some in grand ways.

I am reflecting on my best friend and the support I have gotten and the love for doing the work I am doing and the reflection that I am good at what I do and that I should absolutely go for my PhD.

It means so much that love and support.

I am so grateful for it all.

And grateful that this is it!

This is the last weekend of the program.

Today was the first day, I have two left.

And already a slight change in plans.

A friend of mine in the cohort and I have chosen to skip the closing ceremony and just go out to dinner the two of us.

She’s such a dear friend that I would rather spend the time with her then saying good-bye to people, though I do like them, do not measure up to the friendship we have created these past years.

She lives out-of-state too, so yeah, dinner at Schmidt’s with her tomorrow night instead of the closing ceremony.

I was ambivalent about it anyway.

My closing ceremony will be commencement and my graduation beach bonfire party.

That’s where it’s at for me.

And.

Hopefully I have given the Student Loans Government site enough time to reset.

Fingers crossed I get my new password correct.

Heh.

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Puerto Rico

December 19, 2016

In the New Year?

Um.

Yes please.

So today was my birthday and like all good plans, hahahaha, plans you are just awesome and always so fucked, it didn’t quite go the way I um, planned.

Free Gold Watch was closed for a private party.

Which they hadn’t advertised and so when I showed up with my friends there was no pinball to be had.

And it was cold.

And I had stood outside for a long time waiting in line at Zazie’s in Cole Valley for brunch to want to stand outside any longer and figure out anywhere else to go.

So.

I called it a day.

And I have no regrets, no hurt feelings, because.

Ha, I had no expectations.

Which is actually a really nice way to roll.

And.

I had such a good time, such a lovely, sweet, warm, cozy, when we finally got seated in the restaurant as we had to wait in line for over an hour, but so worth the wait.

I had a delicious meal.

A lot of coffee.

And the company of some dear friends.

I am a very lucky girl.

Standing on the curb in Cole Valley outside a hopping French bistro waiting in line to have brunch on my birthday, feeling all the love.

I was a little disappointed to not play ye olde pinball, I love pinball, but I wasn’t upset that I was missing out, I had already had such a good time.

And.

My friends sang me Happy Birthday in the restaurant and the entire place joined in.

Wonderfully mortifying and special all at the same time.

Full, replete, and warm, I couldn’t have asked for more.

I also had an awesome talk with my dear friend who came over from Oakland to have brunch, we hadn’t seen each other in months, but sometimes, when there’s a connection, there’s a connection and it doesn’t matter that it was a little while, we were right back in it.

And.

Guess where he’d been?

Puerto Rico.

And guess where the airline I have the voucher for flies to?

San Juan.

Puerto Rico.

Of course, it’s too late to get a flight anywhere, all the holiday traveling, and I’m fine with that, but I corralled my friend on the curb and told him about my Christmas plans changing and that I had to cancel my ticket and now had a flight voucher that I could use to travel anywhere the airline had hubs.

It’s a small airline-SunCountry, so no Hawaii or international travel, except Puerto Rico, some spots in the Caribbean and Mexico.

Hello.

I said to the little map showing off Puerto Rico.

I haven’t seen you in a long time.

I mean.

A really long time.

And I have wanted to go back, to do it right.

To do it sober, for one, to go again to the bio luminescent sea, to walk the cobbled streets of Old San Juan, to swim in the water and lay on the beach.

So as I’m explaining to my friend about the ticket and my thoughts and wondering when he’s going back to Puerto Rico, he just starts smiling and smiling and then.

“Nena, open your gift.”

I looked at him, “ok.”

And opened my gift on the sidewalk outside Zazie’s and screeched with joy.

A travel book to Puerto Rico.

A bag of Puerto Rican coffee.

And a jar of Adobo spice.

OMG.

So made my birthday.

“How the hell?” I was so excited,  smacked my friend with the Adobo.

“I don’t know, but obviously the Universe provides,” he smiled.

We’ll be talking more, he’s got business there and will be going a couple of times a year for the next year and a half, two years, so sometime in the new year there will be a trip to Puerto Rico with my dear friend.

I am so excited.

And though the plans, they keep changing, I will be here for Christmas, I’m not upset about them changing, life happens, things change, roll with it.

Tonight will be an early night for me, despite it being my birthday I don’t need to go and paint the town eighteen shades of red, rather, I get to curl up here in my cozy home, by my sweet Christmas tree and have a little more tea and get a good night’s sleep.

Tomorrow begins my last week with my current family.

It will be sad to say good-bye to the boys, but also I know it’s not a true goodbye as the next family I work with goes to the same private school.

I will see the boys at pick up and drop off and that will be a kind way to ease the transition.

Both for them and for me.

I have some Christmas presents for them and some things that I hope will remind them of me and keep me in their hearts, but I am ready to move onward to the next adventure.

I am also grateful that I have week off from said next adventure.

There will be much yoga.

There will be a little travel over to the other side of the bridge to help out a friend on Christmas Eve day.

There will be trips to the MOMA.

Dare I say it?

There will be naps.

There will be time to figure out my camera and why I can’t download my pictures to my computer.

There will be time to attend to a few school things–practicum applications, resume writing, gathering references.

As well as doing my FAFSA for the next school year and starting to order my books for the next semester.

Fingers crossed.

There will be time for at least one book that is pleasure reading.

There will be time for a ferry-boat ride on the bay me thinks.

I love to take the ferry once in a while, it’s my special solo date gig.

There will be lots of writing.

When isn’t there?

There will be plans that go awry and things that change and I will grow and change with them.

Hello 44 years old.

You look pretty damn good.

Glad we’ve made it this far.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Damn You

October 23, 2016

Second wind.

I did not expect to be so jazzed up all the sudden.

I was crashing pretty hard in my last class of the day and just put my forehead down on the shoulder of one of my classmates and said, “make it stop.”

Or something to that effect.

It was a long day.

But hey.

It’s done now.

And of course.

I am wide awake.

I’m listening to music and writing and drinking hot tea and thinking about high-school.

Yeah.

That sounds like good times, right?

Ha.

But.

It was with a certain sweetness and fondness that I was thinking about myself and with a great deal of compassion for the experiences that made me.

I wouldn’t wish to go back.

I wouldn’t wish to change it.

I wouldn’t go and tell that girl child turning woman, do it different, here’s how, no.

I would not.

I am in love with who I am.

I was happy today and light and free and sad and sorrowful and of service and I showed up and yes, I was tired by the end of the day, but that girl, that girl reading books in her room, cuddled up in a worn out chair covered in my grandmothers afghan, that girl made this possible.

She dreamt.

She would listen to music and read and stare out the window.

I don’t remember what I thought about.

Sometimes I would look in a mirror and wonder about the reflection there.

I thought I was pretty.

I thought I might even be beautiful, but I did not get that kind of feedback.

I was curious.

Am I seeing myself?

Or.

Why?

There was that a lot, the asking why.

Sometimes I would fantasize or play with my hair or dress up.

Nothing that I ever reflected by wearing back to school, clothes wise that is, except with one or two exceptions of trying out a new look one week in high school my senior year that I was so nervous to wear that I could hardly enjoy it.

But I rocked it.

I have always liked clothes and fashion.

I was not in a place to wear the clothes I wanted.

But.

Boy did I covet certain things.

I am proud of myself though.

When I look back.

I carved out my own way.

I was my own woman.

I had nothing to really model on, which was on one hand a kind of curse, but I also got to learn, trial and error what I liked and what I don’t.

I’m still discovering.

But.

Some seeds were planted in that room.

From reading all those books.

My God did I read.

I miss that sometimes now.

All the time.

Reading for pleasure.

I don’t get to do it nearly enough.

Reading for school has super ceded that luxury.

Funny that.

Reading, a luxury.

But my God.

When I think about the hours curled up on the couch, or in my room, or in my bed, or under my favorite apple tree in the orchard.

I was moony and dreamy and fanciful and the stories I read reflected that and also, they were my escape.

I was thinking about that as well tonight.

Escape.

All the ways I can check out when it gets to be too much and how I have hidden out, sometimes in plain view, and yet, how very much I want to be seen.

I felt very seen today.

I did a genogram presentation of my family tree.

I traced inter-generational traumas three generations on one side of my family and four generations of it on the other side.

All the pain.

All that hurt.

All the sorrow.

I felt my chest get hot and I realized that what was coming out of my mouth was not what I had planned and that was ok.

I have done enough public speaking, so much, I have spoken in front of crowds big and small, that I don’t really have a problem doing it.

I’m actually really quite good off script.

I typically do need to know what I am talking about.

And my family history, though not as much of a mystery as it was a week ago, was still settling in my system.

I made sure I was pretty today.

I wore flowers in my hair.

I thought of sweetness and resilience.

I thought of grace and service.

I thought how I could show up and heal by sharing.

Therein lies the issue, I feel, I believe, so much of the secrecy, the shame, the conflict and contention that doesn’t get spoken of, gets twisted up in my heart and lays there heavy and sodden like wet leaves mulching into winter on the hoar-frost covered land.

So.

I swept clear some ground.

I laid it bare.

I spoke my truth, to the best of my knowledge and understanding.

I breathed.

I felt my face flush.

I said the words.

I was held the room did not fall apart.

Although after, when I sat I realized how much the class was affected.

Well.

One person.

Her sweet face and red eyes letting me know how my words had landed.

I don’t really recall much of what I spoke of.

Oh.

The bones of it, the narrative, the stories, the lineage of pain handed down the line, mother to child, father to son, grandparent to grandchild.

I do.

However.

Recall pointing out the brightness on the map.

The bright triangles of joy I encapsulated myself and a few members of my family.

The joy of recovery and the strength there.

“Few people realize how the family structure is affected when one member gets into recovery,” my professor had briefly tossed out into a lecture weeks ago.

I hung that star on my paper.

I flashed it bright.

My recovery.

My foundation.

My base.

My place of growth, stellar and bright and resilient.

I have no idea where the resilience comes from, perhaps my grandmother on my fathers’ side, I am named after her.

Maybe.

I don’t know.

I don’t need to know.

I don’t need to change anything.

I don’t approve of it, but I do accept it.

And as I sank down in my pretty dress and felt my heart beat hard in my chest I knew I had succeeded.

If I can do it.

So can you.

If there is a meaning in all of this, it is that I survived.

And that I got better, stronger, more powerful, more loving.

More.

More.

More.

More love.

More magic.

Just fucking more of all the things.

And I’m almost through.

Literally and figuratively.

One more day of class and another weekend down.

One more small step down the road.

One more opening of the door to my heart.

Just a little wider.

Just a little more open.

Just a little.

More

Available.

For.

The sunlight of the spirit.

And.

All.

All of it.

All.

The love that gets to come in when I clear out the wreckage of my past.

Yes.

Please.

More of that.

What’s Next?

September 9, 2015

Today it was getting up an hour before my alarm went off and getting myself sorted out.

I didn’t have to go into work until 1p.m.

Which was nice and also a touch annoying.

It was a later start than I was anticipating and I am going to probably have to dial it back at least a half hour with the family to work with my schedule.

Suffice to say I still got my deal in tonight, zipping up 18th Street to get right with God and hang out at the Castro Country Club for an hour.

Not a place I get too much, but a space I am grateful for.

All the rooms.

All the recovery.

All the change that is about to happen in my life as my school semester starts officially on Friday.

That’s three days from today.

Eeep.

I don’t even know what I am supposed to have read for this weekend.

I am not behind on my writing, having done it all before heading out to that thing in the desert, but I haven’t looked at the reading that I need to do in preparation for the first weekend in school.

I already feel behind.

However, since I didn’t have to be at work until 1p.m. today I did get my ass down to Copy Central on Mission and 2nd and pick up my last reader for the semester.  I also sorted out my student loan deferment paperwork and got that all summarily taken care of.

My ducks are sort of in a row.

I have an idea of what needs doing, but I have yet to crack open the syllabus on three of my classes to be completely clear.

I suppose I will do that after I finish doing this blog.

I am grateful I got the reader, and even more grateful that when I did look at the syllabus for the class there was the delightful notation for the first class that said, “no reading necessary for first class.”

Hallelujah.

Ack.

The more I think about it, the less time I have.

I was supposed to get back to San Francisco on Saturday, that was the original plans.

You know what God does when you plan?

Laughs.

And I will chuckle right along with God as I was given a pretty awesome playa experience, loads of magic, lots of all the things and I have nary a regret.

Although, despite what some thought upon reading my last blog post, I am NOT dating anyone.

I had a playa romance, I suppose you could call it, but I didn’t marry the man.

I am still a free and single lady.

A busy as fuck lady.

A lady who would happily date the gentleman who I spent time with, there is no question there, but a lady who is not pursuing.

“Be the ball, Martines,” he said to me.

I am doing just that.

I am done pursuing.

I get to be pursued.

I am fucking well worth it.

And in the spirit of said worth and in the spirit of having taken the events of the weekend in stride, with sweetness and kindness, with all the deep sexual connection and the magic of the moment, I have changed the header on my blog.

It no longer reads “Girl On The Go.”

I have changed it to.

“Woman Of The World.”

My partner in crime during the last days of the burn mentioned on more than one occasion how I was so obviously a woman, and, a wise woman at that.

It didn’t make me feel old or wizened.

Rather, experienced and grateful.

I am a woman.

Sometimes, most times, more often than I would like, I have to ask for help–but that is a mature thing to do and acknowledge.

That I cannot do it all alone, that I cannot be entirely self-sufficient.

For not only is it impossible for me to figure it all out, I just fucking can’t, it takes away the service of allowing someone else to share with me their experience and in turn allow them the sacred expression of sharing their experience with me.

Nothing I have been through is wasted.

Every pain.

Every sorrow.

Every trial, tribulation, and challenge.

Has given me an experience through which I can objectively view with compassion and gentleness, to be given so many experiences so that I may help another may truly be the greatest gift I have been given.

In that vein.

Then.

I continue forward.

As soft and sweet and open as I can be.

There is something luscious in the acknowledgement, finally, of being fully alive to myself as a woman.

“Before you travel and do something momentous, take a photo of yourself, then take another when you have gotten back and compare the two,” he told me as I prepared to launch out on my first solo trip to Paris in 2007.

“You will see that you have changed.”

I looked at myself in the rest stop bathroom at Donner Pass and I smiled in awe.

I had changed.

There it was.

This new openness and sincerity on my face.

I was not hiding behind any mask.

Of course, it may have been the lack of makeup, the surfeit of hormones from having been bathed in sexual attention for days, or the tan skin from being out in the desert for over a week.

I cannot say with any certainty.

But the change was evident and it made me happy to see and acknowledge it.

I was comfortable in my skin and delighted in my life and grateful.

Oh.

So grateful.

For the man, for the moment, for the movement of my heart, the ticking hands on the face of the world, this life, this ability to see through another lens of self and self-discovery and beauty.

The beauty of connection.

With myself.

With another person.

With the Universe and the world that I walk about in.

I don’t need to know what’s next.

I just need to show up for it.

I show up to the page.

I write my blog.

I show up to work.

I am of service.

I do the deal.

I help my ladies.

I ask for help from my people.

I go to class and do the best I can.

I let go of all the results.

I can’t do it.

Maybe God can.

I think I’ll let him.

In short hand.

I am powerless over outcomes.

I am only capable of taking action.

I don’t need to know what’s next.

Except that I have faith in becoming more me.

And hope that I will not wall up behind the fear of everyday life and the expectations therein.

Woman of the world indeed.

Officially a grown up.

Who knew it would be so.

Well.

Nice.

I Want To Go On A Date

June 3, 2015

Who’s in?

I’m not interested in using the dating websites out there, or Tinder, Hinge, or what ever else new app finder thing that doesn’t mean meeting face to face and actually seeing if there’s chemistry.

I briefly flirted with the idea of doing OkCupid this evening, then realized, why?

To get the same results that I have gotten for years using the site.

No thanks.

I shared with my person this evening when we met for tea outside Church Street Cafe about my trip down to San Diego, my insights, things that I saw, my perspective on my family, what I am grateful for, and how it really drown out any residual clamor in my brain about the no contact with my ex boyfriend, again.

Yes.

Because though neither of us saw the other we both got spun.

So.

I wrote about it and gradually all the stuff faded off and I made the trip down to San Diego, and well, I had other fish to fry and experiences to have and no real inclination to have anything to do with my ex again.

I also had some sound and sage advice from a girl friend while I was waiting to board at SFO, she called to wish me good luck on my journey and also to tell me that she had a rule–before she got married and had baby–to not have contact with an ex until she was dating someone else.

Bingo!

That is fucking brilliant.

And it made me want to go out and get my date on.

But I had to go down to Chula Vista and get my family situation on first.

Now that I am back.

I feel quite ready and even excited for dating.

I don’t know where it’s coming from.

I don’t know where it’s going.

And I don’t know how I am going to do it.

The methods I have tried before have not exactly panned out.

I mean.

I’m happy I tried them, now I know what doesn’t work.

But I don’t know what does.

Wanting and needing are two very different things as well.

I don’t need to do anything, I’m pretty happy.

The job, the school, the International Convention in Atlanta in July, the Burning of the dude in the desert, I have stuff on my plate, plenty to do and places to go.

I just feel it.

Perhaps it’s the full moon.

Perhaps it’s just that I feel god damn good and proud of my life, my recovery, my person, for consistently showing up, doing the uncomfortable, learning and leaning into my life.

I really like who I am and well, I want to share that with someone.

I want to have some fun.

So who has suggestions?

Eh?

You.

Yes you.

Every single person reading this.

How did you meet your partner, boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, lover.

What did you do?

How did you do it?

I don’t think there’s a magic pill I take and poof!

But I suspect that in the reaching out of myself towards something, even if I cannot understand it, if I say I’m ready and wiling and able, to open myself up to that someone, well then, what do I do next?

How do I make this fun?

I suppose I should try new things that I find fun.

Try some day time dancing.

I hear that swing dancing happens in the park on Sundays.

Or a new hobby?

I’m not trying to figure it out.

But I am willing to take suggestions.

I’ll try going online again if that seems the route.

I’ll try asking out again.

Or I could try sitting still with it some more.

I’m available.

I’ll leave it at that.

Next.

Spend time with my friends.

That’s probably the best thing I can do, keep connecting with my friends.

I have dinner plans with a friend on Saturday.

I want to date doesn’t have to be a romantic thing, I remind myself, I can go on dates with friends too.

Granted a lot of my friends are over in the East Bay now, but there are still people here in the city that I can connect with, make plans with, go dance with.

This is a glorious city, I am a gallivanting adventure seeking human creature.

That’s what I get to do.

Try some new things, go some new places.

I haven’t been to the movies in a while, the outdoor ones, I used to have a commitment on Saturday nights and that really put a damper on movies in the park, since I gave it up and switched up my schedule, that could be something to do.

It’s not going to be waiting for someone to come along and show me the way forward.

I could check out the roller disco in the park too.

I could get a kite!

Oh.

It was certainly breezy enough out there on my way home from doing the deal.

I haven’t had a kite in sometime.

I could make a little trek down to the kite store on Grant in China Town.

Go fly my kite on the beach.

Or hell, I could order one online too.

I don’t want to get caught in the wasteland where I feel I need to be partnered up to do anything.

I don’t need to wait on anyone to have fun.

I keep forgetting this is a principle that I am supposed to be practicing–the whole having fun thing–as I get caught up trying to manage my schedule and work and getting to and from and the whole keeping it tight thing.

I have loosened up.

I swear.

I can go easy and slow down.

I can live in this moment.

I can dance with myself in my room to the pink glow of a sun jar (I picked up a solar light in a jar that glows pink and it’s pretty sweet) and be perfectly happy.

I want to want to not need to go on a date.

I am happy and content.

Although my disease tells me different.

There is no loneliness to lonely to bear.

When I love myself the way I do.

There is no one who needs to complete me.

I am already complete.

That Cake, Is That New?

May 30, 2015

I love my uncle.

He cracks me up.

“I’ll try it, I guess.”  He tells me he only eats like this when he visits.

I’m not sure about that, but it is cute and amusing and as I sit and hear more stories and have the gift of simple time.

Sitting.

Having meals together.

Watching a show with my grandmother.

Hanging out with the dog, who really does seem to gravitate to my Uncle, with the saddest eyes ever, I don’t know how this dog is only 9lbs.

I don’t feel compelled to give treats to dogs, but this little lady, does nip at my heart.

Family.

It’s nice.

Seeing myself reflected back in the bone structure of my grandmothers face, seeing how her legs are my sister’s legs, and let me truthful, blessed to be in this gene pool.

My vanity assuaged by the astounding health, vitality, and youthful looks of my grandmother.

She’s 87.

She lives on her own, does her own shopping, drives, cooks, in fact I was told to not touch the dishes, although I had already and not to help out in the kitchen.

Hmm.

I seem to understand where I get that from.

Independence.

Also hearing stories about my father and his brothers and sister and where they travelled and what they did, where they lived, how my dad spent time in Paris when they lived in a village in France, or hearing about my uncle riding his bicycle down the highway, at the age of 8, in Japan to go play with a friend.

Sometimes I think that children in these modern times are a bit sheltered and over cared for, a touch over scheduled, a tad over supervised, and I wonder what they might be missing, what adventures they may have.

However.

That’s not my concern, now is it?

Children grow up and people change and history happens and stories get passed down, pressed between the leaves of a book on Maui and when the sun is shifting through the sky, the palm trees crash against the blue skies over the hills, I was able to just sit and close my eyes.

Lifting my face up.

Thankful.

Just a simple prayer of thanks.

Just to be here.

Nothing needs to happen.

No depths of feeling must be plunged.

I don’t have to have an “aha moment.”

I just get to have these small pearls of time, moments with my family.

Teasing my uncle.

Then being totally gullible and falling for one of his stories without realizing I am being told a tall tale.

Even at the age of 42 I still am gullible.

I’m ok with that too, I’m allowed to be anything.

Today there was eating and a drive and hanging out with my second cousin and my uncle and going to see Mad Max–totally so Burning Man–I almost shouted out loud during one scene.

“I have those goggles!”

I restrained myself.

I did not holler out, but I did appreciate it to myself.

I never saw the Mad Max movies when they were originally released and it was fun to be a part of the culture.

I reflected that there are some experiences that I did not have when I was a kid, when I was growing up there was a lack of resources, I believe that may be the best way I can put it.

We were shit show poor.

School supplies were a fantasy of longing, always having the cheapest notebooks, crayons, pencils, pens (no wonder I am so particular about the notebooks I write in and the pens I use, it’s an entirely sensual experience for me when I write), clothes?

Please.

I started working in the corn fields detassling for Kaltenberg Seed Farms when I was twelve.

Bussing tables at the age of 13.

I stayed with both jobs until I was sixteen?

I got fired from the detailing job, which was really odd, when I look back, for using profanity, but what it really happened?

I was a crew leader by the time I was 14, which meant I made a modicum of more money, and I led the kids through the fields (in Wisconsin you can do farm labor at the age of 12 and because it is often considered “family work” they could legally pay the kids working less than minimum wage), I think I was making $3.25 an hour, much more than the $2.75 I had started out making.

Gah.

Anyway.

I was let go because I explained to a couple of kids what a gay person was.

Someone said a crappy sexist stupid, rural Wisconsin joke and when two of the kids didn’t get the punchline (to a joke I did not tell, fyi) I told them what a gay man was.

The parents called and complained and I got let go.

Such is life.

I worked more at the truck stop where I was busing tables.

I bought my own clothes.

Then I got onto swim team and things changed and I became a lifeguard and an unexpected shift in my life happened.

Not much, but just enough to alter my life seismically.

But there were things that were missed.

Television, we didn’t always have one, or it was a small 13″ black and white, once I think in my junior or senior year, my mom got a rent to own color tv.

That lasted two weeks, maybe three, but she couldn’t keep up payments.

We did not often go to movies.

When I did it was a huge deal.

I remember with great clarity the movies that I did get to see at the theater: Star Wars (lying on the floor of the car with a blanket over myself and my sister, my aunt Dolores and my dad in the front, my mom hiding in the trunk of the car) at the drive in.

Karate Kid–drive in.

Dirty Dancing–my favorite aunt Marybeth took me to that, “don’t tell your mother I am taking you to this!”

The Killing Fields, with my mom.

At way too young an age.

To give my mom some credit I don’t think she knew how violent it would be, but come on, it was the Killing Fields, not exactly a kid movie.

I saw some movies at friends houses-The Breakfast Club, Top Gun, The Little Mermaid–mostly at swim team sleep overs.

I marvel.

I really do.

How fortunate I am to be in this place, sitting on this comfy couch, with my grandmother and my uncle, the dog, the television, a show, a song, a small quiet moment.

From here to there.

From there to here.

And so many places yet to go.

Woman Of The World

April 1, 2015

That’s what I’m thinking of re-titling my blog page.

I will probably always be a “girl on the go” in my heart, I feel like a girl most times, sometimes a small girl, sometimes an adolescent, but more and more, I feel like I am a woman.

Only took 42 years to get here.

Maybe it has something to do with not reaching out to men that don’t serve me well any more.

My father

My ex boyfriend.

The old ex boyfriend.

The lover.

The other lover.

The one that could have been a lover, but never was.

The old friend, yeah that one, who was never in my heart an old friend, but a sort of I wish it could be, why isn’t it, maybe it will be someday.

Or perhaps it has something to do with saving my money to buy the thing that I know I am going to be using a lot of very soon–my new MacBookAir.

I am in fact, writing this blog on my old computer and I am wee bit astounded that I am able to, although, it is not the same as it was.  There are glitches.  I for instance, can’t see what I am writing as I am writing.  The program is not translating the way it should.  I actually have to scroll down, after every line.  Good thing I’m aces at typing, but it is disconcerting.

It is almost like using a manual typewriter.  Last night this was not the case, but tonight, so it goes.  At least I am able to use the computer.

I also can’t tell how many words this is.  The word count is disabled.

I know all the kinks will get worked out and I will have a new computer to write with and internet with and do things with and all that stuff.

Wait.

I mean all the things!

Yes, all those things.

Like growing up and paying my health insurance as soon as I get it in the mail.

Oh yeah, I just did that.

And it was that last action that made me think, you know, you’re a grown up.

The little girl, she is still there, the young woman is there too, that angst filled teenager with her desires to dance with somebody who loves me.

Heh.

I guess I just dated myself there a little bit.

All those sad, lonely nights, fantasizing and dreaming and wondering about what life would be when I grew up.

I was not expecting this, but tell you what, this is real good.

March has been full and replete and astounding in its way.

When I think about all the things that have happened and all the good that has come my way, it is no surprise to me that I am a “woman of the world.”

I got into graduate school, having made the decision to become a therapist, sticking with the intuition and the guidance and the suggestions given me, really following through, applying, and getting in.

Then securing my place in the cohort by depositing money to hold my spot and to accept that I was accepted.

What else?

Getting of my duff and buying a ticket to visit my grandmother in Chula Vista.

This feels very grown up, making plans to see family and to stay connected.

What else shows me a woman?

Asking for a job review, getting a great performance review, asking for vacation time when I want it, getting to go to Burning Man.

Oh yeah, that is a womanly thing to do.

The figure-head of Burning Man is a man, we all know that, but when I think of all the women that make that organization go, well, I am proud to be a part, albeit a small part, but a part nonetheless, of the matriarchy.

Then there is the taking care of myself, the food, taking an iron supplement again, getting my knees checked out, having my skin looked at, the hydrocortizone, fyi, is totally working.

And finally, getting off the social media dating kick.

That feels very grown up.

Not succumbing to the cave man interactions of texting and Tindering and checking you out on Hinge and swiping left, right, upside down, inside out, over and under.

Making the decision to allow myself to be pursued and in the meantime, actively pursue my life, regardless of dating or not dating.

I believe that I will always be a free spirit, young at heart, a girl on the go, for certs dude.

However, as I have more than one purse now, helps balance me out after using a messenger bag all week-long, I think it is accurate to say, the lady is all grown up.

Oh, don’t worry, I’m still a pile of glitter and longing.

But I think I may be able to assimilate it into my grown up world.

There’s room for all the facets of me.

I am a brilliant diamond.

With many wonderous sides to me.

The glitter just makes it sparkle all a tiny bit more.

And who doesn’t like a little glitter now and then?

Are You Going Out Tonight?

November 9, 2014

Uh.

No.

I just got in and I am staying in.

Note to Okstupid profile inquiry number six in exchange–yes I am interested in dating.

No.

Not tonight.

No.

I don’t want to meet you and go see a movie on our first date.

Guys.

First dates equal coffee shops, maybe a cup of tea, a chill space, probably afternoon.

If it goes well it can segue into dinner, a stroll, a hang out.

But a movie, at night, for the first time meeting, no.

How the hell do you get to know someone you’ve never met in a dark movie theater?

Unless it’s that kind of dark movie theater.

I am, however, not interested in meeting in that kind of theater either, repeat, coffee shop.

Nice.

Easy.

Simple.

“You have to do the communicating.”

“You have an amends to make.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo.

Ugh.

I had an amends to make, and wouldn’t you know, it wasn’t to the person I thought it was to, it was to me.

“How old are you, 42?”

Um.

No, not quite yet, but yes, next month, this lady will be a snappy 42 years old.

“Grow up.” She said it succinctly, to the point, with no meanness or judgement, just, hey, come on, grow up, this is how adults act, this is what women do, learn how to communicate, you are a woman, you can do this.

Just.

Keep it light, easy, uncomplicated and kind.

KIND.

So a script was written out, thank you God for women in my life who are willing to hold my hand while I fumble around writing something in the margins of my grocery list.

Which is when I made the call, on my way to Other Avenues to pick up a few essentials for the weekend.  I also, wow, I might really be growing up here, made the call after I had lunch.

No hungry, angry phone call here.

I almost made the call prior to that, eating of the lunch, and then it hit me, nope.  I have to take care of myself and there is no rush, I am going to take care of the communicating that needs to be done so that I can call up my person and report back that the amends was made.

Still getting to change my behavior, probably I will have to continue in this vein for some time, but at least I don’t balk at it the way I used to, I take direction, I do the action, I get the relief.

And the relief, well it was huge.

It wasn’t me.

I mean, that sounds vague, but I don’t feel like reporting blow-by-blow the gist of the conversation, rather personal and private, suffice to say the gentleman was being mindful of my welfare and it was a sweet, insightful conversation.

I showed up for it, fed, and present, walking to the grocery store with the warm sun on my face and the sea off in the distance shimmering and sparkly in the light.

Clarity.

I got clarity.

Which is fantastic, since, well, I’m not a mind reader, although I have had myself convinced on more than one occasion that I am indeed just that–capable of deciphering how another feels and then manipulating my response to get the desired response from said person.

That my friends is what’s called crazy making.

And man, I can make some crazy.

I used to bake dozens of sugar cookies during the Christmas season, spread them over the table and spend hours frosting them, it took hours and hours and sometimes days of prep as I spread the buying of ingredients out over the course of a week or two so that I could afford all the necessary components.

I can spend just as much time with my kookoo ideas.

Fortunate for me, I don’t run the circus anymore.

As my friend Bruno used to say in Paris, ‘the monkey is off my back, but the circus is still in town.’

I can so relate to that.

In a previous incarnation of my life, I might have jumped at the idea of going out on a movie date last-minute with a guy I’d just met online, especially if he was say 31 and way cute.

However, I know where that goes and I am so not interested.

Even if I was interested, I’m not.

Clarity here too, is great.

I don’t mind going out late, I have, I will again, it’s just the idea of not encouraging the fantasy, and I do mean fantasy, that there is a scarcity issue in my life.

There are more than enough men out there to date without worrying that random guy OkStupid is the last of the line, so I better get gussied up and hustle out to the late show down the street.

Uh.

No.

How do I want to show up?

In abundance and knowing that I am damn worth the effort.

There really are more fish in the sea.

There’s some for you and some for me.

There is no scarcity and when I tell myself that I am just unshelving an old idea that can be retired right now.

Today was also a big day for challenging myself to grow in other ways, some a bit quieter than the dating noise in my head, but none the less quite present for me.

Graduate school.

I worked some more on my application.  I wrote the admissions department an e-mail with a question about the application materials needed for the program I am interested in.  I sent the link for the letter of recommendation to the mom who I used to work with who is in academics here in San Francisco and agreed to write me a letter.  I also called two different numbers at the school to make sure if the e-mail went unanswered I would still get an answer to my question.

I also requested information about how to get my transcripts sent from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, to the California Institute for Integral Studies.

And then.

I had dinner with the family.

It was so nice to catch up and see their daughter, who immediately demanded lip gloss from me.

I laughed, although not nearly as hard as when she climbed into my tennis shoes.

To be so warmly welcomed, fed, and thanked for the time I spent with their daughter and to not only receive the word from the mom that I would get that letter, they also gifted me a thank you for the time I was with their daughter.

I left in tears.

To have the ability to maintain and sustain relationships with people in my life is such an enormous gift.  They said come back and visit again, and soon, and come for Christmas Eve (my current family has invited me to Thanksgiving twice now, but I think I will be spending it in the Castro with Honey and crew), which if I don’t head to Wisconsin, I probably will stop through.

This intimacy I have developed with friends, employers, the children I work with and for, with the woman who I sit with over tea, all lead me to the burgeoning of romance, which will happen, I just have to keep practicing and letting go of the results.

Powerlessness is powerful.

Surrender does mean going over to the winning side, now doesn’t it?

Today I am winning.

 

Travel Time

January 12, 2014

ARGH.

Double argh.

My flight has been delayed.

Thank goodness it wasn’t cancelled, which when I was first checking in it did sound like it was, weather somewhere messing things up.

Not here.

Here, it’s clear as a bell, I can tell you, I don’t have to be up in the weather tower to tell you, I can just look out the window to the jet way.

The barren jetway where there is no plane, no plane at all.

I was to catch a red-eye leaving SFO, San Francisco International Airport, at 11:56 a.m.  Which I was early for my check in anyhow, it happens that my commute time from train to BART was far faster than I suspected it would be and the terminal airport was empty.

No security line.

No standing in line.

An apologetic clerk at the front was the only indication to me that something was off.  However, I was happy to be here, happy to be on my way, happy to be moving.

That is until I overheard someone in the terminal complain about the flight delay.

What flight delay?

Oh.

That one.

The one that I am on.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Really?

Grr.

Thank goodness there’s a Pete’s Coffee and Tea in the terminal.

I got myself an apple and a cup of tea and flipped through my magazine for a while.  I have plenty of time to blog, and fortunately there is free wifi here and plenty of outlets.

I have also three movies on down load in my computer, so I have plenty to do and I will be quite fine.

I splurged and bought an airplane travel pillow along with a bottle of water and the magazine from the kiosk in the terminal.

This is not the worst travel delay I have ever experienced, really, it’s just more of a hassle than anything else, one and a half hours less of sleep for me.

Hopefully my connecting flight will be on time.

The clerk did say that I should be able to make my flight, that in effect, I would just be spending the time that I would have in Atlanta in a waiting area, here in a waiting area.

All time is not my time.

I can choose, however, to make the best of it.

How often do I sit still anyhow?

Not very.

I will be tired I am sure, but in the end, it’s probably all for the best.

I have a hard time sleeping on airplanes.

I get super excited and it’s hard for me to get calm down enough to fly.

I did follow my friend’s advice about getting up earlier than I would have normally.  I woke up nearly an hour and a half before my alarm was to go off.  Thereby getting to my laundry, shower, breakfast, and writing routine with loads of time to spare before I needed to make my way to 7th and Irving for my tete a tete at Tart to Tart.

I spent the majority of my day in the 7th and Irving neighborhood, having coffee and a long discourse at the Tart to Tart then hopping across the street for lunch and more talking with another at Crepevine.

Then a  little “spa” time for me and a manicure, pedicure, and eyebrow waxing at the nail salon.

Today has been an excuse to read magazines like a pro.

And sit on my butt.

And soon to watch a lot of movies.

I have my set of head phones with me, my nice fat Skull Candy ones with the big ear phones that block out all noise and sit comfortably on my head.

The ones I wore on my flight previously to Florida the last time I saw my mom, just before flying out to Paris.

It felt like going in reverse at one point today.

The last time I flew out from SFO it was to Paris.

Time feels all synchronous and deja vu’y.

I just paid off my Paris return flight ticket yesterday and this feels like some weird loop-hole of time that I fell into.

I almost felt as nervous preparing for this flight as I did for the one to Paris.

A friend called me before I headed off into the night to the airport and we chatted about family and sibling relationships and I realized, just like I did when I travelled to Paris, that all I had to do was the next action in front of me.

Once I was off the phone I simply finished packing my suitcase and calmly ate my dinner.  I did feel anxious to get moving, anxiety that I can obviously see now I had no need for, but it was not overwhelming and I knew that I was on the way with nothing forgotten.

In fact, I feel like a real adult traveller, with my nice suitcase that I haven’t used since returning from Paris and my new airplane pillow, with the magazine and the charger on my phone, having a laptop, my Iphone, a bottle of water, and the wherewithal to take care of myself.

I have grown up by traveling.

I have also learned that I don’t have to travel in a skimpy manner.

I packed my suitcase rather than just an overnight bag.

I brought a couple of extra pieces of clothing I probably won’t use, but might and as such are nice to have with me, a couple of pairs of shoes, and just having the spare room to not squash everything into my messenger bag is really nice.

I realize that traveling is a part of who I am.

I am a traveller.

I do it pretty well.

Even when my flight is delayed.

I have things to occupy my time and I have the disposition that makes me a calm traveller. I am not really all that irked that my flight is delayed.

It’s an extra hour and a half in a terminal in an airport that I am happy to say is my home base, the place I have flown most to and from in my life.

It feels fortuitous even, lucky, somehow to be doing this travel.

I may change my mind about that if I miss my connecting flight, but for the moment.

All is well in the world.

Just a tiny bit delayed.

Nothing Happened

December 12, 2013

Today was a good day.

Yup.

Pretty much nothing happened.

Nothing big and fancy and life changing.

Just life.

I got done with work a little early and spent the late afternoon hanging around the Inner Sunset at 7th and Irving only to find out that my intended place to be at 4:30p.m. was not happening.

Oh well.

I still got to sit in a cafe for an hour and do some writing.

I never got to my morning pages this morning.

I decided upon waking up that a shower was more needed then doing the writing.

I didn’t put that in my “sex or lack thereof blog” last night.

I wouldn’t have hooked up with my friend unless he was willing to wait for me to take a shower and shave my legs and wash my hair.

Heh.

I was a dirty monkey.

Normally my routine would have been to take one last night, but since my friend came over I skipped it to spend time catching up with him and drinking tea.

By the time I was done writing the blog it was just past my bedtime and it was time to just give up on the day and know that I would do the washing and scrubbing in the morning.

I sprang out of bed.

The alarm went off and I leapt.

I don’t know why, but I was awake and ready to take on the day.

“Joy of living, is my principle today,” I said to her on the phone as I crested the top of Parnassus at Frederick pushing the double stroller ahead of me to the park.

I don’t know why I picked that particular one and for a while I was a bit miffed at myself for doing so.

Then I realized that I had fallen for the Lucy again, good ol’ Charlie Brown kicking that football thinking something different was going to happen, and whomp!

Landing on his back again.

I set myself up with expectation so quick.

I hadn’t even meant to.

I was bordering on discontented when I was wandering around the Inner Sunset, what am I doing, what am I going to do with the rest of my day, what am I going to eat for dinner, my brain was all yackety yack at me.

I glanced up from my bike and realized I had time to catch the sunset and avoid the crazy rush hour commuter traffic on Irving if I got going and stopped lolly gaggging around.

Sometimes you just need to take an action.

I slipped my foot into the my sturdy purple Hold Fast straps and rocked my bicycle down Irving Street all the way out to the beach.

I stopped by the house threw a Japanese sweet potato in the oven, grabbed my camera and headed to the beach.

AH.

Thank God.

Just that, just going down to the edge of the ocean, climbing up the big dune and then the view, the heart stopping glory of the ocean at sunset to sustain me through the rest of what really has been and is a lovely day.

Sand Dune

Sand Dune

Sunset

Sunset

Ripples

Ripples

Birds

Birds

Judah @ 46th

Judah @ 46th

I skipped about the tides and watched the ripples glowing in the light, squatting down at the edge of the water to capture as much color in the sky and the water as I could.

My body opened, my breath deepened, and all of the day fell away.

I turned and walked back to the dunes and climbed the hill in reverse sending my housemate, who has been down with the wicked flu bug that has been making the rounds, a text asking if she needed anything from the store.

I got the request for a coconut from Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club and scampered over to the cafe to purchase a young coconut for her to sip on.

I turned for the last look back as the glow diffused across the avenues and I felt so lucky to be here and alive and just peaceful, exactly in the right place, no regrets on who I am, where I am, or where I am supposed to be.

I was just present.

“Incoming coconut,” I texted my house mate, ran up the stairs, dropped it off, asked if there was anything else I could do and got the fuck out of the contamination zone.

Love you honey, but I don’t want what you got.

Everybody seems to have gotten it.

I need to pass right now, if you don’t mind.

I ducked back into my house, plugged in the Christmas tree, such sweet simple joy, just in that act, and got my potato out of the oven, made up my dinner, downloaded my photographs, did some editing work on them, posted up to my photography blog, I drank a hot cup of tea after my meal and got back on the bicycle to whip over to Ulloa Avenue and 41st for an hour.

Just getting there felt great.

The air still crisp, but not nearly as cold as a few nights back, the heady scent of fires burning in the homes, the twinkling of Christmas lights on the houses, the last smudges of the sunset inking over the dark indigo of the ocean, I breathed in and smiled like an idiot.

My legs so connected to my bike, it felt like my body was this pure machine, and I was free to drift in the sensory sea of images and smells and rich tactile air gushing past me and rifling in my hair under the infinity scarf wrapped around my neck.

Alive.

Nothing grand, but so amazing to be here.

So awesome to get this opportunity to do it and do it well.

I have one week left of being 40 and I haven’t fret once about it.

I feel like my life is just deepening and getting richer and all these experiences are just prepping me for the next great thing.

Until that happens, it could just be having a cup of really hot heady tea, that is the next great thing, fyi, I will just keep moving forward not worried about what is happening and not happening.

I am breathing.

Today was a good day.

Nothing happened.


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