Posts Tagged ‘helpful’

Hump Day

March 9, 2017

Mid week.

Nice day.

Going to drink a big mug of tea.

Listen to a little jazz.

Write a little blog.

Watch a little video.

And get my last night of full sleep for a few days.

I have a school weekend looming.

I’m totally prepped, all my reading done, my papers written, the mid-term is turned in, via e-mail, and my Trauma paper will get turned in once I hit my first class Friday morning.

I’ve got a big busy week, and as per usual, I won’t have time off for two weeks.

Which I always forget about and then wonder why the fuck I’m tired about mid-way through the second week.

Be that as it may.

I am trying to negotiate time in between the spaces to see folks.

I’m half-assed trying to get a tea time with someone and we both have idiotic schedules.

When I grow up I think what I want to be is retired.

Hahahaahaha.

Fuck me.

I have had my down time this week, what with having my stuff ready for school I’ve had quiet afternoons at work until I have to pick up the kids from school.

The mom has been out with the baby at her office all week and I’ve shown up at the house with nary a soul there, tidied, done the dishes, shopped, got dry cleaning, washed up things, even cleaned out the fridge today, ran to Walgreens, put money on the Clipper card, organized, and done meal prep and planning.

But.

I am efficient and quick and I have had down time.

It’s been nice.

Slightly strange, but nice.

I don’t feel burnt out from work and I also feel really useful.

I am doing a lot for the family and helping a lot, what I have found is my routine with them and that makes my job easier and me more efficient.

Sort of like with school.

Once I got the hang of what I need to do I have been a lot more effective in getting what I need done.

Of course I also chafe a bit at the work that still has to be done.

There is always the work.

Then I think.

That is good.

I’m learning, I’m growing, I’m changing.

The change is good.

I don’t always notice it either, but change is constantly happening.

Like.

Turning down an offer to hang out with someone right now.

Part of me is like.

HANG OUT.

The other part of me is like.

Fuck no.

Don’t screw with your last night of full sleep before your weekend of classes.

There was a time when I would have been all like, fuck that, I’m kicking it with this dude, but frankly, unless I’ve kicked it before and know the direction that it is going, it’s too late to just be like, come over, have tea, see what happens.

If it were a lover.

Well.

Different scenario.

You wouldn’t be reading this blog.

But a semi-casual hang out that might have potential is not enough to get me to get out of my comfort zone.

I guess you could say that I’m old.

But.

I think, no, it’s rather, that I have priorities and school is a big one.

I want to meet with people and spend time and date and all that, but unless you’re a good friend, I can’t make a lot of spontaneous mid-week hang out plans.

I have to schedule that shit.

I wish it were different, but then again, I know how lucky I am to get to go to grad school.

The fact that I have a job that let’s me have off on Fridays for class is huge.

I’m not going to jeopardize that, nor that I have to show up and be in form.

Life is going to happen and I won’t always be on task or I will have a date that I have to go on or an experience to pursue that is not congruent with school.

Tonight, however, I’m being a good girl.

And I’m actually pretty proud of myself for that.

I am worth making time for.

I also want to make sure that I am making time for people in my life who are my friends, to keep nurturing those relationships through this whole process.

“You’ll know your real friends by the time you are done with grad school,” she told me at the beginning of the whole process.  “You’ll lose a lot of fair weather friends, but the people who love you will stick with you, and you’ll find that when the opportunity strikes you can spend time with people.  Your friends will understand.”

I fucking hope so.

Because it has been hard.

I miss people.

I miss my friends.

I miss socializing.

I miss not being able to be as spontaneous as I’d like.

Then again.

I don’t miss not having an idea of what I was going to do when I “grew up.”

I don’t miss thinking that being a nanny for the rest of my life is all that I would be.

I don’t miss not having goals that were going to propel me further in this life.

I’m alright with the sacrifice of time.

It’s a dear cost, but I am willing to pay and hopefully when it’s all said and done, when I graduate and I’m just doing the hours to get my licensure I’ll be able to reconnect and pick back up with people.

I have faith.

I know I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on.

I know that without any kind of doubt in my mind or heart.

I’m doing the right thing and I’m happy to be doing so.

So.

Let’s make plans and yes, I might have to book out weeks in advance, but I can do that.

Spur of the moment late night tea time may not happen.

Then again.

It might.

Let’s just keep in touch.

I’ll give you what I can.

I tell myself it will be enough.

Because.

It will be.

Damn it.

 

I Am Here to be of Service

March 29, 2014

That doesn’t mean I’m gonna give you a blow job, I told my friend.

Who doubled up in laughter.

Super happy that I was able to help him out, I will probably be helping him out for a bit, he just had a pretty big surgery and has to be on crutches, in a cast, resting for a bit.

I live a block away.

Today all I did was bring him some soda for his tummy which was upset from the anesthesia and the pain killers he was on.

But I will be doing more and I like that.

I am playing it forward.

I told him as much, don’t be proud, let me help out.

I am a busy girl, I got things to do, but when a friend is a block away, I can stop by and bring groceries, plan on dropping off some homemade soup tomorrow, it’s the least I can do.

When I think about all the help that has been given to me, the couches, futons, attics, and beds that I have crashed on, the money that people have quietly slipped into my pocket when I was going through financial straits, the cups of coffee bought, the meals, the endless streams of love that I have gotten to be a part of, the least I can do is go run down to the 7-11 and buy my friend a couple of liters of soda.

It really, also gives me a great sense of being useful.

Which I think is one of the most satisfactory things to fill my emotional life.

My brain wants to know, “what’s in it for me?”

My heart, knows better and when I can help out, I am going to.

The feeling of doing a small thing like emptying another’s trash, really is the best high.

Yeah, I know, hard to believe that.

But there’s a deep gratitude here too, I remember, well, what it was like when, it’d be about nine years ago this very month, when I hurt myself horribly at work and for three months, three, I could not lift anything over five pounds.

I could not bend from the waist, which meant that I could not shave my legs, because I could not reach them.

I could not walk without using a cane.

And I could not walk very fast even then.

I could not make my bed or do my laundry.

I could not buy groceries.

And I was destitute at the time, I had very little income following in.

I ate a lot of ramen noodles and when I was feeling rich I ate cheddar cheese sandwiches on country bread with Best Food mayonnaise.

I was given money for groceries, rides here and there, mostly on MUNI, a friend gave me his monthly pass that he got from work and he rode his bike all over, people showed up at my house and gave me pep talks when I had to sell my record collection.

When I had to sell my two Technics turntables.

I cried.

I cried when I sold my music collection to Amoeba.

I remember a friend telling me to buck up, it was just stuff, and the records and cds that I sold kept me in food for another month.

I cried anyway.

I remember when rent was due and I did not have rent and some one out of the blue asked me to edit a history on Russian politics and gave me a check made out to me for $500.

The amount of my rent.

Those were the days, when rent in San Francisco was $500.

Not so much anymore.

It was cheap then, it was rent controlled, and though my room-mate turned out to be kind of a freaky person, he helped me out a lot.

Bought me take out pizza from Zante’s Indian on Courtland at Mission Street, did laundry, bought me groceries, made my bed.

So, this, helping a friend out, is just me playing it forward.

I look forward to getting to know him better too.

Sometimes you know someone peripherally through connections to a lot of other folks, six degrees of separation and all that, and you know you like them and they are cool, then you wind up in the same neighborhood and hey, neighbor, how can I be neighborly?

I get to help and I get to grow in my relationships to another human being.

I need people.

I cannot live in a bubble, despite not wanting to go out and socialize tonight.

I was invited to a little shindig over in Potrero Hill and another in the Upper Haight and I just wanted to head back to my hood, do some writing and chill the fuck out after the week of work.

Then as I was riding my bicycle down Lincoln Ave with the wild wind off the ocean invigorating my senses, I remembered the photograph my friend had posted up on his Instagram feed of himself in a cast and feeling stircrazy.

Voila.

I knew what I needed to do.

I hopped off my bike, sent him a text, got an immediate response, got some soda and for a couple of hours kept him company until the Chinese food take out brigade and Friday night video gang buzzed at the gate.

It was perfect.

I felt alive and helpful and needed.

Isn’t that what everyone wants, to feel needed and appreciated?

I don’t know that I can count my acts tonight as estimable acts, since I am writing about them and I consider an estimable act one in which you don’t toot your own horn, but I will say this, being of service is sweet and rich and brings a kind of depth to my life that I don’t get anywhere else.

It makes me a better person and if I get to help someone out during a challenging part of their life, then bring it on.

I am here to serve.

With pleasure.

 

 


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