Posts Tagged ‘maps’

Honky Tonk Heart Break

November 25, 2017

I have nothing to complain about.

Especially when I listen to the music from this Spotify playlist.

Honky tonk heart-break is a for real thing.

Bottom of the whiskey bottle, bottom of the bear glass, the lonesome sound of the woman you love walking out the door.

Yeouch.

I mean.

What do I have to complain about?

My massage was kind of weak.

Oh.

It wasn’t bad, but I was surprised, in fact, at one point I thought to myself, deep tissue, my ass, this isn’t deep tissue at all.

It was pleasant, I suppose, but not what I was hoping for.

In fact, the spa really wasn’t as posh as I thought it would be.

It was still nice, I’m not bitching, but I was a bit surprised, it was smaller, and the back patio was covered with leaves and the reclining chairs didn’t have cushions.

So much for sitting outside on a lounge and getting some sun.

The fireplace wasn’t on either.

That bummed me out.

It, was, however, when I left, I thought that was funny.

The massage was nice though, and the sauna was good and it was nice to drive my car to a new spot in town and to find parking that wasn’t a meter in the area was pretty sweet.

I also made a little pilgrimage to Nest and got a sweet little Christmas ornament.

Last year I actually was pining pretty bad for Christmas.

I think it was mostly the fact that I was so fucking lonely last year, since I was under quarantine with the lice, I let myself get a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving.

I saw social media post of people who have already got up their tree and I was like, whoa!

I’m not feeling it quite like that this year.

Although, granted I am very much looking forward to getting a Christmas tree.

It’s an expensive bit of self-care.

I get a live tree and they’re expensive, but the smell, oof, so good.

I just love having that smell and the magic of Christmas lights and the sweetness of having presents wrapped under the tree.

So, yeah, it was fun to get an ornament today on Fillmore Street.

And I thought about doing a little Black Friday shopping, but once I got back to my car, I would have to move it and re-park it and it just didn’t seem worthwhile.

I hit the road Jack instead.

I did actually, inadvertently do a little shopping anyhow.

I swung into Laurel Village on my way home to deposit a check into my bank and there was an Ace Hardware store there that I got a bunch of little things there.

A replacement light bulb for my salt lamp my friend gave me for Christmas last year.

A set of blue Christmas tree lights, I have some from last year, but I think I needed to replace a strand.

I always do blue lights, I like to have an Elvis Blue Christmas theme for the tree.

I got a pack of printer paper, I got a pack of papers I need to write-up before the semester wraps up.

I also got a phone charger for my car!

That was cool and I got a car mount kit so that I can mount my phone to the dashboard.

Quite happy with that as well.

And can I just say, Bluetooth is revolutionary.

So nice to have my Spotify go straight to my radio.

So nice to have phone calls I can answer via touching a little button on my steering wheel.

Amazing.

My mom was my first call I took in the car.

Heh.

Also, lovely, really, to have navigation, I love plugging in the address and having the directions told to me.

Remember maps?

I fucking do.

Fuckers.

I had a stash of them and somehow never quite used them all that well.

I mean.

I made it across country driving my little two door Honda Accord, but really I am still amazed I made it.

All the places I used to have to look up in an Atlas, remember having the AAA Atlas in your car?

Maps for every state.

I think that’s what I used to drive cross-country.

Now all I have to do is type in the address on my phone and my car literally syncs up with my phone and the directions come out of the speakers.

It’s fucking magic.

I know.

Maybe it’s not magic for you, you’re used to this, but remember, I haven’t owned a car in fifteen years.

It’s really nice.

I have to say, I really like it.

I’m so grateful to have gotten it.

I am so grateful for all the help I got getting it, meant the world, it really did.

There is such a comfort in driving.

It feels right.

It’s really interesting.

It feels right to be in a car.

I must be an American.

And one from the Midwest for sure.

It was out of the question for me to not have a car when I was in Wisconsin.

It wasn’t for over a decade here.

Plenty of transit options, shit, more so now then when I moved here if you count Lyft and Uber and Get Around and car share services and what all.

But.

Really.

Having my own car is something special.

It feels really natural.

I am almost surprised by how natural it feels.

And occasionally, I will admit, a tiny bit smug that it’s a stick shift.

Not sure if smug is quite the right word.

Perhaps.

Self-satisfied.

There is something about being able to drive a stick shift that seems really cool and a bit anachronistic and well, just a tiny bit out of the ordinary.

All things I rather like about myself.

The manual feels right and of course, that makes sense to me since all I owned previously were manuals.

It’s rather like coming home.

And being surprised that it’s been patiently waiting for me all along.

It’s not honky-tonk at all.

Nope.

Not one bit.

But I can play honky-tonk in my car if I want to.

Ha.

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Day One

January 3, 2017

And the weather Gods shone down on me and my scooter.

Yes.

It stopped raining in time for me to ride to work.

It did indeed rain a little too, but not until I was already at the job and inside and then it passed and I was able to make the entire day without getting wet.

Although I feel pretty chilled.

I was going to go and do yoga after I got back from doing the deal and I just didn’t have it in me, if I did, I’d be doing yoga right now instead of doing my blog, but I just needed to take it easy and slowly get into my groove.

I went to bed early enough to actually get a full eight hours and though I had some anxiety last night as I was figuring stuff out, figuring stuff out, what fucking ever, I fell off pretty quick.

I was tired from not getting a full night’s sleep after the New Year’s Eve dance.

I fell out when I got into bed.

Grateful I gave myself the extra time this morning.

Because even with navigation and looking at the map three or four or five hundred times I still got lost.

Not horribly so.

But just enough that I had to pull over on my scooter three times to check the navigation.

I was literally within three blocks of the house and I missed the turn and did a loop around and it’s a bit squirrelly in that particular neighborhood, some odd one ways and small side streets, so I was super grateful I had given myself the extra time to figure out where the fuck I was going.

I got there.

And super happy to report that there’s not time restriction on the street parking, I can park my scooter anywhere, although I was also offered the option of parking in the driveway blocking the garage.

So that’s nice.

Tomorrow, if it rains, I take a car.

It’s up and down a lot of hills.

Plus.

Today was technically a holiday, which neither the family or I realized.

I realized when I was on the way over, no traffic.

I mean.

None.

Then it hit me, when a holiday falls on a Sunday, the Monday is considered an off holiday, all the schools go back tomorrow.

So I got the whole family today.

Mom, dad, friend visiting from Finland, and the three children.

6 years.

4 years.

And.

2 days old.

Yes.

Two days old.

Such a little peanut!

Tomorrow it will be me and the mom and the dad and the baby as the two oldest go to school.  I’ll get all the paper work and taxes and stuff worked out.

Today I just got used to being in the house and I also got to go with the middle girl to the Upper Noe Valley Rec Center.

Dad and the oldest boy were working on a project and mama and the baby had a nap.

The friend visiting will be gone soon and dad will go back to work and then it looks like me, the mom, the baby, and then I will do pick up from school.

I might do drop off once in a while too, not quite sure how that’s going to work yet.

Tomorrow the dad will do drop off.

So instead of coming in at 9 a.m. I’ll go in at 10 a.m. and work until 6p.m.

I am hoping that once we get it all figured out I will have a set schedule.

I’m not the greatest at hopping all around.

I’d like to know so that I can schedule myself and doing the deal into a routine that allows me to get some commitments and be accountable to my recovery.

Hella important to me.

Until that happens, might be a week or two, I’m going to be flexible, because I can, and the baby is such a wee little mite he’ll be with mom and I think the dad has off for a few weeks from work to help too.

It’s a full house.

But.

It’s a nice house and I’m grateful for the job and the experience and getting to know a new family.

“Wait!  You’re leaving?” The little girl said to me as I was wrapping up what tomorrow schedule was going to be with the mom.

“Don’t go!  I’m going to miss you!”

Glad to know that I’m already missed.

That made me happy, and I the oldest asked me if I was going to be coming back tomorrow and I said I sure would and if it was ok with him, I’d be picking him up at school tomorrow.

It was ok with him.

I went to put on my jacket and get my stuff and the little girl came over and said, “I’ve decided that you should stay and we should have a slumber party.”

Oh my god.

I love it.

“I think that’s a great idea!” I exclaimed, “but I didn’t bring my pajamas, do you think we could have a slumber party another day?”

She decided it would be so.

Granted, of course, we had or moments.

“I don’t love you,” she said to me at one point today when we were out at the park and I could tell it was time to go home to lunch, hungry, angry (new baby taking all of mama’s time, new strange nanny), lonely (her brother stayed with dad), tired, it was nap time and though she, according to mom and dad doesn’t really nap much, she fell asleep in the stroller on the way back to the house.

I scooped her up, carried her in, got her out of her rain gear and polka dot boots and mom got her settled.

I told her later, “_________ you don’t have to love me, we can start with like and see what happens, ok?”

And then we had a unicorn and dog picnic, played with stamps and Play Doh and told each other stories.

“I have never heard you play like that before,” her dad said to her when she went to show him something.

I felt really good hearing that, the little tone of awe in his voice, the comfort that was there, noted, his child felt comfortable with me and playful and crawled in my lap and snuggled and we talked and held hands and she asked me to find her tickle spots and did I have any and what did the stars on my neck mean and could she wear my glasses?

It was a very sweet first day and I feel that I will make it through my two-week trial without too much struggle.

Really, I think I passed the test today in flying colors when I got asked to stay over night and have a slumber party.

Probably even before that.

Now.

It’s just a matter of getting used to the commute and the timing and when I can get to yoga, I do want to make sure I’m getting to a least one class during the week.

It will all suss out.

Until then.

I think I’ll probably have another early night.

And more hot tea.

Yay!

Made it through my first day.

Happy.

Happy.

Joy.

Joy.

Day Two

May 22, 2016

New York.

I’m beat.

I mean.

I walked so much today, I started to get shin splints.

But I couldn’t bring myself to get on the subway again after getting off it in Brooklyn at the Barclay Center stop.

I had gotten switched up on the trains as they were doing construction and the line that I was supposed to connect with was suddenly no longer available and I could have done another transfer but wanted off.

I wanted to walk.

That’s the best way to see things.

On foot.

I took loads of photos and saw some awesome graffiti and paste art that I wouldn’t have if I had been on the train.

That being said, I am pretty proud of myself at having navigated as well as I did.

The train system is smart and pretty easy to figure out, but I did find myself having some anxiety this morning as I headed off to the big city from Brooklyn.

And I realized now that it was my first time by myself figuring out how to go from one point to the other.

And I did fine.

I did get turned around, but, haha, not on the damn train, on the sidewalk.

I am so freaking dyslexic, I read my navigation backward, I literally look at the screen and go right when I should go left.

I am so grateful for the navigation and map apps on my phone.

I would have been wandering around in desperate circles.

I am a total know it by mistake person and a land mark person.

Oh.

That church there, that’s where I need to go, or I can go on this block, or I will remember, as I did earlier when I was at Union Square, which way I came the only other time I was there and did the deal at the Seafarer’s Union hall, but ask me if it’s North or South, East or West, and I am at a complete standstill and close to tears, if not in tears.

I don’t have pet peeves per se.

However.

Ask me to be your navigator and I will be a very unhappy lady.

Don’t hand me the map.

Don’t ask me to figure it out.

Just don’t.

You want a happy traveling companion, do not ask me for directions.

Or.

Expect to get lost.

Getting lost for some is fun, an adventure, a party, but for me, it just produces a lot of anxiety.

I know from a lot of self work and a lot of introspection and a lot of having done the deal and some outside therapy that has, oh, a little to do with needing to control my environment and being in fear.

It’s a safety thing.

I get it.

I let myself be gentle with myself when it comes up.

I have, however, been on the receiving end of some not so nice words having gotten lost with people.

It’s not comfortable.

I’m very well aware of it, but it will still catch me totally off guard and then I’m like, fuck, I’m lost, how did that happen?

But today, mostly, I just got lost in things I love.

I got lost in books.

Oh.

The books.

Stacks and stacks and heaps and piles and floors and aisles of books.

So many yummy books.

Oh.

The smell.

Such a good smell.

Not my most favorite smell in the world, wood smoke, bonfire, fire wood burning in the fireplace on a cold night, but right up there.

The clean, crisp, warm smell of paper and book binding glue and I just perused the aisles at The Strand and was a very happy lady.

My friend that I met today suggested popping into it.

And my.

What a good suggestion.

I actually put down all but one of the books I wanted to buy.

Not from a place of frugality, although, that did rear its head a bit, but more from the perspective of, oh, wait, how much weight do I want to carry around?

And.

Can I get this book in San Francisco?

The answers were obvious.

But I did buy some notebooks, yay!

And some stickers.

Double yay.

And a magnet.

And one book for the flight back.

So that was nice.

My friend departed before me, off to work on his film project, and left me with directions to get to the MOMA.

Which I promptly forgot when I was on the second floor of The Strand.

Where did he say to go?

Get out the phone.

Map it out.

And yes, still spend way too much time when I got off the subway walking the wrong way down the streets.

Seriously I have a problem.

I did, however, make it to the MOMA.

And started at the top.

Rothko.

Although, to be honest, not my favorite, not in my top ten Rothko’s at all, I didn’t like the lightness of the colors he used, I like the deep oranges and greens or the super dark brick reds almost black or the indigo violet blue ones, this one, though luminous and gave me a pause to look at, was not something that held me for very long.

I was drawn to Van Gough’s Starry Night.

Me and too many other tourists, good grief, too many, too many, too many fucking tourists.

Which is probably why I enjoyed the walk home through Brooklyn so much, like that, “home.”  I have caught myself saying that a number of times, I’m heading home, I’ll be home soon, or I’m at home, and it’s the Air Bnb I’m staying in.

Off all the places I’ve been in the city, I actually like this neighborhood and Greenpoint the best, there’s a mix of cultures and ethnicities that make me happy and I feel right at home and yeah, there’s projects, but I have been in the projects before and I just put on the walk and I am not bothered.

If I were to move to New York, which I don’t foresee, at all, the winters, yo, I would live in Brooklyn–but not Williamsburg, too white, too many hipsters and man buns and women reading tarot in a way too serious manner selling over priced hyper curated vintage and emergency sage smudging kits.

Dude I think I had seen it all at that point.

REALLY?

You’re selling emergency smudging kits?

Where am I?

Santa Cruz or Brooklyn?

I feel better in this neighborhood with the barber shops and the families and the hair salons, the little bodegas and the funky art and the graffiti.

But that’s just me.

I’m often at home where ever I go.

And yes, I got asked for directions again.

This time in Greenpoint by a woman from the city trying to figure out what train to get back on.

I had to laugh.

And.

Of course.

I helped.

The blind leading the blind.

I also walked, because I had a funny feeling about being on the train past the point where I had gotten off.

I don’t know why, I don’t have to know why, but I had to turn around when I was heading down the stairs to the underground, it felt wrong.

And it was raining and I was tired and I thought, shoot, just call a car, but no, the walking.

The brownstones and the lights within, the big leafy trees, the sound of the rain falling like that, the smell of wet sidewalks.

It was a nice way to sort through my day and recall all the lovely art I saw.

I only got to the Rothko before digressing.

The ones that stood out for me, Andrew Wyeth, Christina’s World, that stopped me in my tracks.

The two Klimt’s I saw, Hope II, Adele Boch-Bauer II.

The Mondrians, three of them, just stunning.

The Hopper, House by the Railroad.

Stumbling upon the Monet Water Lilies, I did not know they were there, at least this version of them, and I was brought to tears to think that I have gotten to see them in Paris and in New York.

How lucky am I?

The Seurat, Evening Honfleur, brought me to tears.

I was so startled by it and just stood transfixed.

I don’t always know that is going to happen with me and art.

I get something deep within, I am moved, I am transported, I feel deep joy.

And gratitude.

From my humble, poor, meek beginnings.

To a bit of a traveler and a bit of an art junky.

It’s so nice.

I’m so lucky.

I really.

I’ll say it again.

The luckiest girl in the world.

And.

All tuckered the fuck out.

One more day New York.

Let’s make it smashing, shall we?

I hear you have some art for me to see.

Next stop.

The new Whitney.

But first.

Bed.

Night y’all.


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