Posts Tagged ‘new friends’

Oh, Him, He’s Got A Girlfriend

March 15, 2014

Well, that explains why I didn’t get a call back from the cute guy I gave my phone number two weeks ago Friday.

Good to know.

And he smokes.

Not a fan of the smoking.

Onto the next one.

And in the mean time, how about adding a new girlfriend to the mix.

I got a text yesterday from a woman I recently hung out with and was thrilled to be asked out for a girls coffee date out in the Haight.

Today I was done with work early and was raring to go when I got another follow-up from her, bogged down with work, but still want to meet, let’s push it out a little.

Ok.

I suddenly had three hours of down time that I was not expecting, the combination of getting done with work early and the push back on our meet up.

I floundered for a minute, what was I going to do?

Where was I going to go?

One of the things that I like to do when I am headed somewhere on my bike, is get there.

Get there.

Get off.

Lock it up.

And go.

I knew I would be meeting my new friend at the cafe Coffee to the People, at Masonic and Haight at 5p.m.

I had about three hours to hang out and I decided I would not run errands, not buy groceries, not haul around laundry detergent, even though I need to pick up some and I could use a grocery shopping trip.

I decided, rather to let myself have a wander.

I shoe shopped.

I found out that the shoes I was silently lusting after, though they fit, were really quite unattractive when I tried them on.  I also found a pair of Frye boots in a vintage/second-hand shop and discovered that though the size was correct, the style was not flattering.

Good information.

I flitted in and out of stores and surprised myself twice in two different shops and got two new dresses.  Both quite affordable and both flattering.

Score.

I am not a clothes shopper and when I can find myself with some time and money it is still hard for me to get myself into something new.

But new I wanted, because I have a pair of heels I want to wear tomorrow night because, well, there’s always someone else to ask out, now isn’t there?

I did not want to spend my entire afternoon shopping, nor did my pocket-book want that and as I wandered further and farther up Haight Street I realized Free Gold Watch!

I went and got my pinball on.

It was lovely.

I placed The Machine and I played Whirlwind.

I won a replay on both and spent about $3.00 for an hour of entertainment.

It used to be, once upon a time that I could play for hours on $0.25.

That was when I was playing much more often, like everyday if I could.

It was pretty cool to be in the arcade rocking out the old pinball games and having a little time with me to have some fun.

I have been told a lot lately that more fun needs to be worked into my life.

I am doing the best I can.

I am, I am.

After my hour I went back to Haight Street and walked down the other side of the street, my mark?

Booksmith.

I picked up two new books and pursued the stacks.

God.

I love a good book store.

Then off to Mendel’s for stickers and a couple of little gifts for my niece in Florida who is turning twelve next week.  I have a little box with this and that for her that I have been scooping up when ever I see something that a 12-year-old girl might like.

I got her miniature Star Wars lunch boxes, skull stickers in two different styles, a skull candy emery board, and a skull hair clip.   Her mom said she was into skulls and skulls she’s going to get.

After the art store I was ready to meet up with my new friend and discover yet another person who is aching to go to Burning Man.

She applied for a reduced ticket and told me about the application she put in.

Fingers crossed she gets a low-income ticket.

It feels like she’s going to.

And I got to regale her with stories of Burning Man, where I have camped, which camps she might want to check out–Anonymous Village, Camp Stella, Hokey Pokey Camp, Run Free–camps that she would feel comfy staying with like-minded folks.

It was so nice to sit and share my experience around it.

And exciting to see yet another friend getting geared up for their virgin run at the event.

I am gearing up for burn number 8 and am very excited.

Though I can get ahead of myself very quick with it.

I sometimes have to remind myself that it is only one week out of the year, yet it does pre-occupy a lot of my mental space.

I found myself laughing about my brain and where it goes, like I need to wait until Burning Man to ask out this other guy, since it’s going to be his first and wouldn’t that be fun, to hook up at the event?

Ah.

No.

I don’t need to wait until the last week in August to ask this dude out.

I can do it tomorrow night.

Let’s see if I can.

I got a cute new outfit to wear.

I made it to Coffee to the People, drank a large coffee at 5 p.m., which would explain why it’s almost 10 p.m. and I feel WIDE AWAKE and spent an hour and a half hanging out with my new friend.

It was an awesome time and we promised to see each other soon, dancing, hanging out, Burning Man preparations, boy talk, getting to know another friend in San Francisco.

How awesome is that?

Add pinball, two new dresses, two new books, and stickers to the mix.

What do you have?

A good freaking day.

 

 

Now What?

November 29, 2013

So, this whole “holding space” thing is starting to make me wonder, what for?

What am I holding space for, or whom?

I turned down a nanny gig for tomorrow.

I turned down a house sitting gig for this weekend.

I don’t have plans people.

I have three days off, three days into the six-day staycation.

I have a lot of “selfie” photographs from the beach.

I have slept well.

I have cried a little and drank a lot of coffee.

A lot.

I am like a recreational coffee drinker.

Sure, I’ll have a cup.

In fact, I had two tonight after the six o’clock point, which is so rare as to be a phenomenon of sorts for me.  I might be up to go clubbing, hit me if you want to go dancing, I am jacked up.

Unlike the fellow comatose friends who I just recently left.

I just got in from Marin.

From a house full of people I did not know.

But with a standing offer to come back anytime.

I think I got along well.

No doubt that my friend’s friends were going to be good people.

And they were and it was really nice to be a part of a gathering, to help out here and there, to chase the two-year old around the living room and snuggle with the dog.  To talk with the mom who is expecting and the dad who had the worst best holiday sweater that promptly came out once the dessert was being served.  To help wash dishes and to smell the smells of Thanksgiving.

And actually watch some football.

“Why are you crying?” My friend Wilmein asked me last year in my French class in Paris.

I was looking out the plate-glass windows at the mottled dark sky leaking rain, the inside of the windows starting to steam from the bodies in the class room, and the various voices, German, Japanese, South African, South American, and me the American, practicing our “futbal” excercise.

I had been struck by the worst homesickness I have ever had on Thanksgiving last year in Paris.  I had just been in the class room a couple of weeks and had already been making friends and Wilmein was such a pumpkin.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” I whispered under my breath, “I, I am supposed to be home watching football and eating too much pie.”

Although I had done neither of those things in years, that was what I was supposed to be doing, not studying a soccer composition for a rhetoric lesson in French.

“What is Thanksgiving?” Wilmein asked.

Jesus.

Of course, like they celebrate an American holiday in South Africa.

I told her.

“Oh!  You’re homesick!”  She said it sweetly and patted my arm.

Indeed.

I was.

I was not tonight.

I was a little uncomfortable every now and again, but for the most part, I felt quite warmly welcomed and it was nice to be in a group of people celebrating their friendships and connections, listening to stories, though not mine, still stories, of home, and I like me a good story.

I like to tell myself some “good” stories too.

That I am alone or unwanted or not loved.

Such bullshit.

I am loved.

I love, there for I am loved.

I had wonderful texts and messages and phone calls all day today.

I got to talk with my mom for a little while, I sent my little sister a message, my grandmother, my aunts, I got phone calls from dear friends, and I got to spend some time down at the beach walking in the tides.

The waves so mighty and gigantic, I saw very few surfers and it was wild.

The sun was warm and I felt really blessed to be down walking the shore and listening to the lull of the waves.

My brain said I was alone.

But my heart said, no, you are confusing “alone” with “lonely”.

Yes, you are alone, but you are not lonely.

I had the song of the sea and the memories of past Thanksgivings keeping me company on the shore.  I had the love of friends old and new reminding me that I was thought of and often.  I had my own good company and that of the wind and the ravens on wing in the warm air.

I didn’t really feel alone.

And I didn’t feel homesick.

I felt at home.

I can be an isolated person and I work at rectifying that, but sometimes the deep serenity of being on the beach is a kind of company that I have only experienced by myself.

Sure.

When I saw couples walking on the beach holding hands I wanted that too, still do.

It is a bonfire scented night, the skies are clear, I have the next three days off, I want to walk on the beach and hold someones hand and be kissed under the stars.

I am a romantic at heart, in nature, and that is a want.

But it is not a requirement to having a deep and meaningful relationship with my community, my fellows, my friends, and frankly, with myself, or my home.

Or my city.

Seeing San Francisco lit up like a Christmas ornament tossed down from the heavens as we crossed back from Marin through the Golden Gates, I was so enthralled with her beauty and so grateful that I was home, again, here, now, not saying good-bye, but rather a new hello, a new experience, a new kind of life here in this city which I continue to get to live in, be captivated by, and romanced.

I was deeply thankful.

I am grateful for many things.

Not the least of all the time that I have over the next few days to continue my homecoming.

That’s what this Thanksgiving feels like to me, a homecoming.

I am home.

This is it.

From one side of the city with the Embarcadero One light up with Christmas lights to Ocean Beach with Orion rising over the black waters, shimmering luminous above me.

This is where I am meant to be and this is where I shall stay.

I have meaning.

Here, most of all.

I belong.


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