Posts Tagged ‘hired car’

Getting Laughed At

January 20, 2017

Carried my umbrella all day long.

Did it rain?

No.

Is it going to rain gangbusters the next few days.

Yes.

Was it supposed to today?

No, and I prepared to ride my scooter out into the great big blue sky that was finally peeking through the grey clouds.

I emptied out my bag, transferred gear to the appropriate spots and got my riding jacket out, I took the cover off my scooter and came in to sit down to do some writing and have another cup of coffee before heading out into the day.

Then.

What the fuck?

Down pour.

Deluge.

The sky got dark, it happened super fast, and the rain just flooded down.

Um.

Ha.

I guess I’m not going to ride my scooter in this mess.

I went back outside and put the cover back on my scooter, getting a bit wet in the sudden onslaught of weather, secured the cover, came back in, transferred all my gear into different bags, hung my scooter jacket up.

I finished my coffee.

Finished my writing.

I got out my phone and saw that I wouldn’t have time to catch the train, so I sent for a car, grabbed my umbrella and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

Hmm.

Well, fuck, it stopped.

But the forecast was saying it was going to start back up early evening and did I want to be on the scooter in the dark and the rain?

I patted my scooter cover and waited for the car to pick me up.

No rain.

All day long.

Oh, it’ll be back, but it made me laugh, plans, I make them, God laughs at them, here, a change of plans.

Hey, here a change of careers.

Oh, wait, no, try this, go here, do that.

Oh hey, dating?

How do you like them apples?

Fuck I suck at all this living, all these things.

Plans, plans, plans.

Plans don’t save me.

Managing my life so that I am safe and secure doesn’t work.

I can’t control the outcome.

The MUNI.

The weather.

None of it.

But I can show up to it without expectation, anger, resentments.

And that is something really lovely.

Like.

I don’t know what the weekend has planned and I’m actually trying to not plan anything.

Tea and conversation with a lady this Sunday.

A tattoo after that.

Yes.

I will be adding star number 12.

I have it narrowed down to one of two places.

But that’s it.

My person is out-of-town this weekend, so we won’t be meeting and all the rain, rain, rain, well, I have no idea.

And I tire of plans.

Fuck the plans.

Fuck my expectations and desires and wants.

My needs are amply, and then more, met.

I have everything I need.

And.

More.

I have a lot more.

Grateful for all the gifts.

All of them.

Perspective.

Better than a plan any day.

Bravery.

Sounds like courage and walking through fear when my plans don’t go my way.

Faith.

Belief that something has a better plan than I do.

Love.

That I am loved even when my plans are stupid and short-sighted.

Joy.

I am allowed to have fun, despite my best laid plans.

Hope.

That someone else has a better idea than I do how I should live my life.

Happiness.

That none of my plans matter anyway, I can be happy no matter what, no matter where, no matter how.

You catch my drift.

I want to let in some time to be spontaneous, to say yes, to say ok, I’ll show up to that.

I don’t know yet what “that” is, but I’m saying yes.

Because so often I want to say no.

Nope.

Don’t do that, don’t give me that, I don’t deserve it.

Don’t love me, I’m not enough.

No, really, I am fine on my own, I’m good.

I got this.

Hahahahahaha.

Oh.

Yeah.

I got this.

Heh.

So funny.

But in that knowing, maybe there is something, a small inkling of relief, sotte voce of the stars, the music of the spheres and the poetry of language pushing out of my heart, blowing the top of my head off with hot-house flowers of desire and bespoke romance.

I’m doing pretty damn good.

Just hanging on the corner laughing at the inside jokes I tell myself.

Insight, roses in the tall Mason jar on my table, cuddled up close to a lighted globe of incandescent love and desire, traveling all over, a map of longitudinal lust and lush tales from the wide Sargasso Sea.

I swim in this blue-green firmament.

I am home.

I am in my heart.

My arms await me.

Don’t forget to water the orchids tomorrow, I whisper in my ear, and then laugh.

Always so practical minded.

Yet.

They bring me a sense of constant renewal.

An acknowledgement that extraordinary beauty opens slowly, takes time, that the unfurling is just as exquisite as the full bloom.

That stunning flowers can come from bare and barren sticks.

The green leaves signs of plenty of life.

Water them, let them go, don’t have plans, give it to God.

And when you’re least expecting.

Flowers, buds, burgeoning growth where there was none before.

Don’t force the flowering.

Leave it be.

Let it grow.

Have dreams, aspirations, hopes.

Have faith.

But fuck your plans.

They are so limiting.

At least, let me speak for myself, because ultimately that is the only person I speak to and speak for, my plans are so limiting.

There is so much more.

Allow yourself to have it.

I stand where the light is pure.

The moon is on fire.

My hand upon the door.

I’m burning like a white wire.

It’s an inside job.

But.

It’s a job I’m grateful to show up for.

Day after day after day.

One fucking day at a time.

Doing the God

Damn.

Deal.

Get it.

Got it.

Good.

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Rounding The Corner

April 10, 2016

Heading into home.

Almost there.

One more day and it’s a half day.

And I’m done with my reading and my papers, except the one due next week, but let me not go there quite yet.

One more day.

Then one more weekend of classes.

And a lot more papers.

Not too bad on the readings.

I won’t get too swept away in thinking about it.

I’m making it through and I had a good day.

I did not wake up on the wrong side of the bed today, in fact, I woke up pretty well rested all things considered, perhaps the most sleep I have managed to get on a school night since the beginning of my classes.

It wasn’t eight hours.

But it might have been seven.

Considering that most of the nights before I have class average five to six, this was big.

And I could feel it.

I didn’t feel rushed this morning.

I didn’t feel out of step.

I had a nice morning routine and I had a nice breakfast and a couple cups of coffee before heading out the door.

I called for a car.

I got to class almost 25 minutes before it began!

I wasn’t expecting to catch a ride so fast and the traffic was light.

It was actually rather nice to get to school early.

I put away my food and chatted with fellows in other cohorts, I heated up a third cup of coffee, yeah, like that, and I made my way to my first class.

I participated and I got to share some things that were challenging and difficult, but also really quite powerful and I got to see where I have grown.

I also had a much better dyad as the client today and I went into it with an attitude of how to best be of service to the situation.

Because this woman is not really my therapist.

She is my fellow cohort member, she is a student, she is there to learn just as much as I.

I think it went better and I didn’t feel quite so angry after leaving the session as I did yesterday.

I had a nice lunch with a couple of my classmates.

I drank tea with a professor and TA in between classes in the cafe.

I hugged another TA, of course I asked first, and made a nice connection with him.

We have friends in common.

And it is really edifying to have that connection with someone in my program.

A fellow amongst fellows.

So to speak.

The weekend is two-thirds done.

To think it was about a year ago, March 6th, that I received my acceptance letter to the school.

So much has changed since then.

I could not have forecasted the year and how it was to be in any way and it is a very powerful perspective to have.

One that I hold with great gratitude.

I really do show up.

I really do the work.

And there is other work that must be attended to as well.

I slipped into bed last night and just as I was falling asleep I had a little thought and an image sneak into my head.

The image was a bottle of rose wine and a wine glass on a table with a white cloth at an outdoor cafe.

Rose?

What the fuck?

I didn’t fucking drink wine when I was out there.

I did blow and swilled high end IPA’s and bitter ales.

I drank vodka martinis.

On the rocks.

Dirty.

Extra olives.

Blue cheese stuffed if you got them, bitches.

Rose?

That was never a choice I made.

Then the thought, sneaky little fucker, right as I am drifting off to sleep.

“Well, I’ll get good and drunk when the weekend is over.”

What the fuck?

Who put that there?

Oh.

Yeah.

My disease.

I’m not cured.

I have a reprieve.

But I haven’t had as much of that reprieve when I am in a school weekend and yeah, yesterday was long, I was cranky for no identifiable reasons (I found many during the day, but none of them quite stuck), of course my disease is going to pipe up.

When I am vulnerable.

On the cusp of sleep.

I actually shook myself awake, “no fucking way,” I said.

I opened my eyes, I looked up at the night sky out the back door of my studio and saw the sky, dark and vibrant and full of stars and said, “I don’t want to drink.”

And closed my eyes and fell promptly to sleep.

Arising only once before my alarm to go to the bathroom and pee.

I love my cup of tea at the end of the night, but it does facilitate getting up and using the bathroom during the night.

I got my sleep, though, and I checked in with my people on the car ride into class.

It was a good day.

And.

I have one day left.

A half day.

I’ll be out by 4 p.m.

Free to grab dinner somewhere or do the deal or both.

Free to breathe and stretch and walk around and not be sitting in a desk.

Free to be in awe and wonder that I am a graduate school student.

“OH, I have such big respect for psychologist’s,” my drive said tonight, then related a story about getting some much needed help when he was younger and in a bad spot in his life.

“Psychology saved my life,” he said, “you’re going to be a great psychologist.”

I hope so.

That may be in the future.

I had another idea for a possible dissertation topic regarding a theory on Mystification as it’s used in marketing and media to sell a certain kind of body to women and the constant reinforcing of the idea that women are not good enough, despite what they may believe, mystification, to sell products in a Westernized consumeristic culture.

Ahem.

Yeah.

I get ahead of myself.

“I’m going for my Master’s right now,” I said, “psychologist is not on my plate at the moment.”

“It will be, I can tell,” he said with complete assurance and conviction.

Grateful to hear that, even from a complete stranger on a rainy night giving me a ride home through the hilly streets of San Francisco.

The Universe has faith in me and for every small step I take.

Every moment I show up on time and prepared for class.

Every time I make myself vulnerable to the learning and having the humility to be teachable.

Well.

The Universe take a thousand steps towards me.

I am met.

I am held.

I am almost done with the weekend!

Now.

It’s tea time.

Excuse me while I unwind and get my last things done before my last day of classes for my second to last weekend of my first year of graduate school.

What am amazing journey it’s already been.

Luckiest girl in the world.

 


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