Posts Tagged ‘Maxfield’s House of Caffeine’

Little Gold Star

January 20, 2019

Today I got my 14th star tattoo.

14 stars.

14 years of being sober.

I decided I need to give myself a gold star.

It’s been that kind of year.

When I reflected on all the things that I went through and all the places I’ve been, I think that I definitely earned it.

This past year I traveled to DC, New York, Paris, and Marseilles.

I graduated with a Master’s degree in Psychology.

I went through a buy out and moved.

That was some serious stress let me tell you.

I also started a private practice therapy business.

And.

A PhD program.

I also got my grades back from said program.

All “A”s.

ALL.

I was a little surprised to tell you the truth, I had an issue with a final paper I turned in for one of my classes and I didn’t think it was going to fly, the paper, that is–I digressed from the specific instructions the professor gave and did rather what I wanted to do.  It was the only paper for the class, although there were so many discussion posts that I feel like I actually wrote seven papers for the class, and I ran a huge risk doing it.

The risk paid off.

So, yeah, a gold star felt really appropriate.

2019-01-19 20.54.20-2

Yes.

It did hurt.

And it felt really right and I was, obviously, very happy with it.

Not only was I pleased with it, but it filled out the space perfect.  I am very satisfied with the way all my tattoos look and really have little desire to put anything else in that area.

Not sure where I’ll put the 15th, but let’s just let me focus on the 14th star.

It really was quite a year.

I walked through some really challenging things and came out the other side.

I reflected on a lot of that today as I went about my day.

I saw clients at my office, did lots of writing, read for one of my upcoming classes for this next semester (school starts next Thursday!), went to Let it Bleed on Polk Street, got an iced coffee for a treat, walked around the Tenderloin and took graffiti photographs, caught up with my friend DannyBoy at the shop, took myself out to lunch in Hayes Valley, had a coffee with a friend in the Mission at Maxfield’s House of Caffeine, went to Divisadero and got my nails done, and then hit my Saturday night commitment and did the deal.

It was a day.

I’m really happy with my life right now.

Oh, sure, romantically it’s strange, but you know, that will work itself out.

Or not.

I have ceased (fighting anyone or anything) trying to figure it out.

I’m just showing up every day and taking care of myself and I feel really good about what I did today for myself and my own care.

I also thought a lot about what I want to bring forward for this next year.

Get through the next semester of classes, add clients into my private practice, travel.

I also want to get through the Below Market Housing Homeowners workshop.

I really am going to go after buying a house in San Francisco.

My friend whom I met for coffee happens to be a realtor and we spent an hour going over what I need to do to get myself in line to actually do that.

She gave me a good idea of how much money I will need to have saved up, which will take some time (or not, who knows, money may fall out of the sky) to save, but I can do it.

Plus that I should get a credit card.

Which I’m not super stoked on the idea.

I had one that I’d gotten last year and then never used as it made me uncomfortable.

But.

My friend insisted I was really going to need a credit history that showed me paying off a card.

She said get one, pay it off every month and always pay more than the minimum payment.

If I do get another card, and that’s an if, I will definitely not let a balance roll over.

I just do not like the idea of having any credit card debt.

I do, however, like the idea of having a good credit score and something that shows I am a good risk for a home loan.

I shall take it under advisement.

I actually tried to re-open the credit card I had closed but I could not figure out how to do it and just sort of set it aside tonight when I got home.

I feel like I did a lot today just by sitting down and talking about it.

I will manifest a house in San Francisco.

See if I don’t.

In the mean time there is plenty of other things for me to do.

I do want to keep a soft focus on it though, always have it in my mind and see where I can expand my awareness of abundance.

I am continuing to practice that opening up to the universe, to the flow, to God, to abundance, I have continued to give away a little more than I typically do.

More tip in the tip jar, more money in the basket, continuing to pay my bills within 24 hours of getting them.

And!

Oh my gosh, this is definitely part of the gold star, I got approved to become an employee at my internship.

Which means that I will start bringing in more money.

I am so psyched about that.

I’m excited for this year.

I feel like all sorts of incredible things are going to happen.

I really do.

Faith.

I like that.

Faith, abundance, joy, honesty, integrity, serenity.

Words to live by.

Principles to underpin my gold star.

And!

Love.

Let me not forget that one.

Never forget that.

Seriously.

 

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Ten Years After

February 16, 2015

I was given the amazing perspective of being asked to reflect on the last ten years of my life and where I was and where I am now.

It was intense.

It has been an intense day.

“I love reading your blog, it’s so dramatic!” A friend of mine said yesterday at the going away party I attended.

“I bought a loaf of bread at the store, it was good bread, I have an insight, it’s a big one, wow, life, amazing, that was some tasty bread.”

I punched him in the arm.

“I know I’m dramatic, I can’t help it, it’s just how I am,” I said, blushing red-hot, I could indeed see myself waxing poetic about buying a loaf of bread.

I mean, have you ever walked past Tartine in the Mission and smelled the butter scented air?

The only corner in the city that never fails to remind me of Paris, as the bread and pastry there is very French informed.

I mean, I could really write a full on 1,000 word blog on the smell of baking bread and my insights there of.

My friend was spot on.

I punched him in the arm again.

“Fuck you.”

“No, I love it, it’s so you, it’s good, don’t stop,” he gave me a bear hug.

Sometimes the little things are the most dramatic, the flight of a pigeon startled up from a palm tree on Dolores Street as my old friend leaves the coffee shop, a friend I said goodbye to.

I surrendered a friendship.

I have surrendered a romantic relationship and didn’t write much about it, or him, as it wasn’t my place.

I will do the same here.

I am sad.

I watched the light shift, I listened to the incoming whistles from my phone and let the tears well in my eyes.

I felt my heart and breathed through the process.

Things end.

Things begin.

The light, buttery, soft, warm, awash in the rich scent of jasmine and of blooming magnolia, the sky clear, high, blue, swathed in light airy clouds, the palm trees against the robins egg blue and the rattle of ice in my coffee cup.

It was a comfort to be in that window space and sit there and look at those palms and remember so many times, over the last ten years, that I have sat in that same window seat watching those same trees.

Sometimes laughing.

Often times crying.

Always living.

Always walking through the next thing in front of me.

Speaking of which.

I did it.

I filled out and filed my FAFSA form before starting my blog tonight.

Federal student loan application for graduate school is now complete.

I have yet to hear back about what specific day I will be going in to do my interview for the program, but I do not doubt that I will get it.

It all feels right.

If I am supposed to go to this school and do this program and get the Masters in Integral Counseling Psychology, then the money will be there.

I have always been taken care of.

I don’t foresee being dropped now.

And if I’m not supposed to go, well, something else will happen.

I just take that little action, whatever it is, when my hands are cold and I am breaking out into a cold sweat and my flight or fight is high, I breath and take the next action in front of me.

Some times that is to pause and not respond.

I did some of that today.

The not responding.

That was a challenge.

Then there is the time to stand up and speak my experience and share what it’s been like and how I go forward from here.

Which is that I see and hear and rely on those that have gone before me, how they walk through, how I may do the same thing.

I am not the first person in the history of graduate school to be nervous about paying tuition.

Well, excepting those in European nations that pay for their citizens to attend school, but despite wanting to be French, I was not born there to take advantage of their school system.

Or Germany’s.

Someone suggested I move to Berlin for the free schooling they are now offering.

I don’t speak German though.

And I don’t want to move a way from San Francisco again.

This is home.

“I am so glad you moved back from Paris,” she said to me tonight before I stepped out into the hallway, “it’s really good having you here.”

It’s really good being here.

Home.

My little corner of the planet, which happens to exist in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Not that I am biased or anything.

But San Francisco, she sure is pretty.

Especially when there are days like today when the entire city is outside enjoying 70 degree weather and sunshine.

The beach was packed.

The Mission was packed.

Dolores Park looked like a movie set.

I don’t know that there could have been one more person shoved into the green space on the hill, it was a carpet of people.

I laughed when I saw the park.

I was in the car with a friend whose surf board I had returned.

It was suggested to me I get it back to him.

I was on my way to say goodbye to a friend at Maxfield’s Cafe.

It was suggested I give him some space to have his process.

I amend my life the best way I know how, take the suggestions I am given, and try to live my life in a spiritually principled way.

How that comes across is none of my business.

I looked out over the faces in the room, full of light, full of unspeakable radiance and shine and perhaps that was because my eyes were full of tears with the gratitude I hold for them, or perhaps it was the face of God I was looking into.

All I know is that I am in the heart of love and that these ten years have been a gift I never expected or thought I was good enough to receive.

I hope I was a mirror to the people in front of me.

Love.

I love you.

Love.

Thank you for all you have given me.

Trying To Figure It Out

September 15, 2014

Is not helping my sense of relaxation.

I just clicked through a number of “secret San Francisco spots” and things to do and thought, meh.

I’ve pretty much done that been there.

It’s the big guns I have not done.

I have not gone to Alcatraz.

I really can’t quite bring myself to go, to tell the truth.

I do love taking photographs of it when I have ridden past it on a ferry-boat at night or sunset, its a spectacular piece of spooky and eery and beautiful, but I have not ever really hankered to go visit the Rock.

I have never walked the Golden Gate Bridge.

I am not about to start tomorrow.

My ankle still sucks.

Still.

Half way to full healing, not walking in a boot, no crutches, but still aches, still gets swollen, still needs attending to.

Speaking of which, I am going to pause and prop it up with some frozen peas now that I am thinking about it and take a few ibuprofen for the swelling.

Ah.

That’s better.

I have not ever been too keen on walking the bridge, though, I have done it numerous times on my bicycle.

Which I was going to ride today, not much mind you, just to the grocery store and back.

But.

I blew out the valve on the inner tube trying to inflate it.

I have to change out the tube and I just didn’t feel like doing it to justify an eight block round trip bicycle ride to Noriega Market.

Although I will probably change my tune tomorrow when I go through the last of the Stumptown Holler Mountain coffee in my cupboard.  That will dramatically increase my odds of fixing my flat tire.

I was going to be lazy about it and just wheel it up the road to 42nd and Irving where that little local bike shop is, but then I was like, really?  I have the tube, I have the wrench I have the pump.  The time it would take to walk there and back I could probably change it faster and it will be free.

That’s one thing to do on the morrow.

I do have someone coming over for an hour tomorrow to do some work and catching up.

I am getting lots of that.

“You’re going to graduate school in San Francisco!?  You got a new job in the Mission!?”

“YAY!”

Some one I do some work with was over joyed to hear my news when we met at Maxfield’s House of Caffeine on the Dolores/Mission border.

Over joyed that I am not moving or going anywhere but staying here in SF for graduate work.

It was lovely to catch up, it has been about a month since I have done the one on one work and I have missed it.

I’ll get more this week.

But aside from that, not much is happening until Thursday.

After 1 p.m. tomorrow I am wide open.

I called and left a message with a friend of mine who occasionally has Monday’s off, perhaps we’ll kick it around the city.

I have a possible lunch date on Wednesday.

Tuesday I will say goodbye to the little guy in Cole Valley, pick up my playa bike, and hand over the key to the mom.

Bittersweet to see another story close.

But excited to have a new adventure happening soon.

In the Mission.

“Are you going to move back to the Mission?” A good friend of mine, who lives in the Mission, asked me this evening when I shared the news of what’s happening next in the life and times of moi.

I wish.

Unless y’all can come up with a spot for me, that is no more expensive than what I pay now and I get as much room and access to laundry.

I mean.

I would in a heart beat.

It is going to be a big commute to get to the Mission from out here.

I can do it.

I have before, but it’ll be about an hour and a half commute every day on my bicycle.

Maybe not that long, but about.

On a good gravy I am going fast day, with good traffic, and not really obeying traffic laws, I can make it to the Mission in about a half hour.

But I will probably give myself 45 minutes to make the ride.

I don’t want to die.

And this does bring me back to my other thought, my scooter.

I would love to use it.

I don’t think I am going to though, I can’t afford another injury on it.

I just cannot.

But I also don’t want to have a vintage Vespa collecting dust if I am not going to use it.

I think I am going to head to a couple of scooter places on Tuesday (SF Moto is closed on Mondays otherwise I’d go tomorrow) and see if I can trade in for a new model, I have been checking out the stock on their website and there seems to be a lot of options.

The commute won’t be quite so daunting on a scooter.

I’ll be getting on my bicycle until that sorts itself out.

I figure another week of taking it easy on the ankle and fingers crossed, I’ll be up and at ’em for the new job commute starting a week from tomorrow.

There’s not really a good MUNI connect between here and where I am working in the Mission, two transfers and some walking, I would rather spend the time on the bike and go slow and get there, it’ll be faster no matter what anyhow.

Of course, this is all unnecessary commuter speculation right now.

I don’t have work to go to until Friday when I am doing a date night for the parents of the new family and Saturday afternoon when I get to see my little guy in the Castro who started up pre-school while I was away at Burning Man.

Until then.

I shall ferret out some secret San Francisco treasures for my “staycation” enjoyment.

Wish me luck!


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