Posts Tagged ‘messenger bag’

The Last Big Push

August 15, 2014

And it’s almost time.

Go time, that is.

I made it through a double shift today, and truth be told, it was not so bad, although I had to apparently have some spice and drama to make it fun in between.

I thought I was going to have a nice mellow dinner somewhere in Cole Valley, a nice little sit down and gather myself for the oncoming onslaught of all things Burning Man.

But no, that was not to be the case.

I discovered, oh woe is me, that I had forgotten my charging brick for my laptop at my nanny gig in the NOPA.

How I managed to do that I cannot even tell you, it was right there with the apple and the fresh bag of Stumptown Holler Mountain I had gotten at BiRite this afternoon.

Right there with my notebook, my phone charger, my phone, my bag of pens and my messenger bag.  I had put it all on the corner of the dining room table so that I did not have to carry extra weight in my messenger bag when I took out the monkeys to the park.

I thought I had put it all back in.

But no.

I left the charger on the corner of the table and went on my merry way when my shift ended at 5 p.m.

My way which was graciously paved by the mom of my littlest guy, she offered to drop me off at the home in Cole Valley, but upon finding out that my stuff was still out at my place by the beach, that I was going to go get it after I finished my night gig in Cole Valley, she said she would just run me back to the house herself, save me a trip later.

Thank you!

Such an unexpected and nice gift.

It was when we were heading back that the discovery was made.

She asked me, “do you have everything?”

Then she ran down a quick, down and dirty list of the most important stuff that tends to go overlooked, power cords, phone charger, etc.

I opened my messenger bag and saw immediately that my phone charger was right where it was supposed to be, but not the laptop charger.

And there was only one place it could be.

Back in the NOPA.

FROGS!

She was unable to drive me all the way back, and we both sort of figured that my family in Cole Valley would have chargers galore.

True.

There would be a spare I could use that was attached to the trailer I am staying in.

However, it dawned on me, I am still going to need it when I go to New York, and I am going to need it tonight when I am writing and I will want it when I am in Reno tomorrow night.

And well, dang it man.

I had an hour before I was due in.

The family offered me a vehicle, but upon inspection, it was too much, I just was not prepared to get into the car and drive over in rush hour traffic, I also could not find the key and was beginning to feel a tad panicked.

Not the time to be in an expensive car driving in San Francisco rush hour traffic–my gut said don’t do it and I had the oddest flash of having a stupid accident in their car.

Not what I wanted to do.

So I decided to walk there and back.

I made it just about on time.

I was five minutes late coming back, but pretty much did the deal.

I caught a bus for a part of it, but actually beat the MUNI coming back because of traffic.

I got my charger, made it back to the gig, finished the dinner with the monkey, got him a nice bath and snuggled into some moose footie pajamas, and that’s all she wrote.

I did some sorting of my stuffs, taking a few things that I really didn’t need to have with me in the car for the first leg of the journey, and then ate a late dinner.

Whew.

I am done.

And yet, it’s only just begun.

The plan is to be on the road by 11 a.m.

I will have phone all day tomorrow as we will only be going as far as Reno.

We may even get in there early enough that I can hang out on the strip, or something.

I actually have an idea of what I want to do, if there’s time, there’s a little club that I want to pay a visit to for an hour in the evening.

Otherwise, it will be chilling at the Grand Sierra and taking advantage for one more night of running water and hot showers with strong water pressure.

Tomorrow I will get up here in Cole Valley and take care of the pumpkin, make sure he gets out and we run around the park and expend lots of toddler energy, then away we go.

It’s hard to believe the day is finally here.

I felt a bit like a hermit crab today as I trundled up the stairs to the first gig of the day, my messenger bag already full of gear and bits and overnight stuffs.

But there were pockets of time when time seemed to stand completely still and I had contemplation and serenity, and a deep silence filled with gratitude that once again, I get to go out to the desert and have an intense human experience that just cannot be had anywhere else in the world.

Supreme gratefulness.

There’s little for me to do tonight, except change into my pajamas, not moose footies, that would be something now wouldn’t it?

And have a cup of tea and a light snack.

I am a little too wound up to drop off to sleep right away, so I will watch a show and chill for an hour or so, but not too late, the day will be on me before I am ready for it I am sure.

Time to make the tea and get my butt into some pajamas.

I got places to be in the morning.

Tomorrow, bye bye San Francisco.

Hello Reno.

In just.

T-minus 13 hours.

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It Was A Walk of Shame

August 12, 2014

But not that kind of walk of shame.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

But it definitely reminded me of one.

Underpants in my messenger bag, condoms falling out of my pen bag and knocking about in my messenger bag, what were you doing last night lady?

Thank God the family had left when all this underpants and condom hilarity ensued.

I was reminded of a story, in the briefest barest flash of embarrassment, my mom loves to tell this story, it’s in the top three (top two standing in front of the three-way mirror at Macy’s in my lace anklets at age three admiring myself–snuck out of the changing room when mom went to find a dress that fit better, imagine her surprise, empty changing room, no baby, but suddenly hearing a gaggle of old ladies around the corner cooing over how cute I was cued her off.  Top one–standing on top of my desk and yelling at my class to sit down and be quiet because teacher was having a bad day, teacher promptly burst into tears, said thank you Carmen and everybody sat down and was quiet.  Turns out she had just been served with divorce papers at recess) of the mom pantheon of stories to tell on me.

I was six, maybe seven, first grade (older kid, missed the cut off for kindergarten by a month, so always one of the oldest in my class) and I stood up to use the bathroom and my underpants fell out the bottom of my pants.

I was not only mortified, but I was mystified too.

How the hell did they come off?

Turns out my underwear were on, but I had an extra in the leg, probably from the laundry or they hadn’t pulled out of my jeans when I pulled them off the night before.

Which is what happened to me today.

At the age of 41, I was not paying enough attention to notice that my jeans had a little extra padding in the back side this morning when I went to work.

I mean I am utterly mystified how that happened, I was awake, I swear, when I got dressed, but apparently I was not fully present.

ALL MORNING.

I sat where I am sitting now, had breakfast, wrote four pages long hand, I had extra time this morning, I rode the MUNI to work–sat there too–how I did not feel an extra pair of panties back there I don’t know.

I discovered them when I was getting the boys ready to go outside to the park.

I pulled up my jeans and was like, what is that, and reached back and fished out the underwear.

This is what happens when you are so ready and packed to go that you are recycling your pants to get through the week so you don’t have to worry about laundry before leaving for playa.

I re-wore my jeans from yesterday.

The condoms were from my consolidating of stuffs when I went through the underwear drawer and I stuffed them in my pen and pencil bag in my messenger bag.

I don’t know that I need them, I don’t foresee getting lucky before I hit playa–Mister I’ll Bring You Some Frozen Peas never got back at me the last time I sent him a query.

Oh well.

His loss.

Moving on.

Hopefully with only one pair of panties on my person at a time.

It made me laugh and really it was a day full of life and gratitude for what I have.

My friends, my work, the little boys in my life, my recovery, knowing I have a solution to my disease and taking my medicine.

My heart broke when my good friend text me that Robin Williams had committed suicide today in Tiburon.

I met the great man once, he was amazing, heartbreaking, sad, funny, depressed, overwhelmed, sweet, honest, loving, kind.

I got to sit and be five feet away from him for an hour and it was a pretty incredible experience.  And a hug after that hour and an immense gratitude for what I have.

Money doesn’t make you happy.

Fame doesn’t make you happy.

Sometimes there’s just a deep, deep well of pain and it cannot be addressed or dealt with and thank fully I found a way out of it, but the echo in my soul, that unbearable knowledge of what he must have been going through, I can taste it like mercury blood in my mouth, a bitter sucked orange sadness.

I know he’s not in pain any longer and I am glad for that, though for completely selfish reasons I wish he were still here.

I don’t cry at celebrity deaths.

Two to date.

When I heard the news that Jeff Buckley had died.

And today when I got the text from my friend.

I immediately teared up and my heart just hurt, it felt like I had gotten stabbed, perhaps because I share that disease and know that pain, partially because I am so grateful it is not a solution I have chosen.

Although there were times, two years into my sobriety, when it got really, really bad.

REAL BAD.

I was always crying.

And I can cry a lot.

But I was always crying.

I did not know what would set it off and I did not know when it would stop and I wanted to die so bad.

It was when I was in the shower contemplating being alone for the rest of my life and never having a family of my own (I don’t know why that thought, I don’t know what had brought it about, but I had a sudden realization that I was never going to have children and I was brought low in devestation), I sank down on the floor of the tub, the shower beating on my head and thought, all I have to do is fill the tub up with water and let go.

There were razors there.

It would be warm.

It would be ok.

It would not hurt for long.

Let go.

I gripped the sides of the bathtub, forced my way to standing, turned off the shower, grabbed the towel from the back hook of the door and screamed into it, broke down crying, wrapped myself up in the towel, went and made a phone call and somehow walked through it until I got professional help.

I don’t know Robin’s pain.

I can’t.

But I know thinking about that very permanent solution to a temporary problem allure.

I hope he is in a better place and at peace.

I hope to not journey there yet for many a day.

I hope you know how much I love you.

I love you.

I do.

 

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.


― Pablo Neruda

 


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