Posts Tagged ‘New Years’

And I Will Be Driving

January 2, 2018

All week.

No scooter for me that I can see for the next six to seven days.

Rain.

Loads of rain in the forecast.

Tomorrow it looks like it went from forecasted rain to just overcast, but I think I will take my car anyway, just in case and because I really like driving it.

I reflected on that as I was helping my person run a little errand from his house, I got to spend a really lovely afternoon with him catching up, checking in, and doing the deal.

He’s doing really well, but gets tired fast.

We did a walk around the block after chatting for an hour and a half and then an errand to the bank, he was done in by the time I got him back to his house.

A very sweet little abode up in the upper part of Noe Valley at Caesar Chavez and I think 27th.

He’s been there for twenty years.

A gorgeous little one bedroom with the sweetest view.

I joked that I wanted it when he dies.

“Girleen, you’ll be with someone long before then and you and your man will want more space than I have here.”

He made a good point, it would be cramped for two people, but I have to say I had a little apartment envy considering it’s a little more than twice the size of my studio and he pays much less than I pay and he has windows, so many windows, hella jealous of the light, but super grateful he’s in a really good spot.

Anyway.

It was good to get face to face time.

We do a lot of phone check ins, I might call him every day, just leaving a message to touch base, and at least once a week we do a longer check in, and then we meet when my schedule allows, once his hip is fully healed there will be more regular face to face meetings.

I’m super grateful for him, he helps me so much with my perspective and my way of being in the world and he is a marvelous witness to my journey, he’s family really.

I have told him that should I get married he would be the person giving me away.

He’s the only man who I could fathom walking me down an aisle.

He sees me and for that I am graced.

I’ve been working with him now for about four years and he’s seen me through a lot.

I did not have much more on my plate today than seeing him.

I got up, after sleeping in, last time I’ll be sleeping in for a while, and went to yoga.

I didn’t have to bargain too hard with my brain to go and I had a good work out.

I really do want to get in more yoga classes, I realized today that going three days over the long weekend really made a difference, I could tell how different my body felt and some poses were much easier with just another day of practice thrown into the mix.

I could sneak into the 7 a.m. yoga class tomorrow, it would end by 8:15 a.m.

I’d have to fly home, shower, and dress lickety split and be on the road by 8:45/9 a.m.

I have therapy at 9:30 a.m. in Noe Valley before work.

Yes.

It all starts back up tomorrow.

Work, therapy, seeing clients.

It’s not a full week with clients, I still have a few that are out-of-town, so it will be a nice easing back into the week.

What will be nice is that the kids will be back in school, which means a little less frenzy at the house in the mornings and some solo work with just the baby.

Back to work tomorrow.

Back to therapy.

It will be good.

I feel like I have come through an interesting time with the holidays.

And I’m grateful for the experiences I got to have, I learned a lot about myself, my expectations, and what I need in my life and what love means to me and how to work on cultivating that in my life.

I am loved.

And I’m not unaware of it.

I am grace with it.

It is like a sun halo on my heart.

A field of eider-down puffs and late afternoon light strained through honey.

This love that catches at my heart like breezes through summer trees.

I am adorned with it.

I got to see it very clearly today in my chat with my person and I am once again awed by all that I have.

Gratitude in spades, gratitude for my life, my experiences, for getting to be the woman I am, for what I have.

It’s not conventional, my life, and fuck, you know, I’m grateful for that too.

I believe I live a more passionate and alive life than most and I wouldn’t trade it for some one else’s trumped-up ideas of stability.

I have so very much.

And I am so very alive.

I am also grateful that I took care of my house today and got myself ready for the week.

I took down the Christmas tree, wrapping up all the ornaments, rolling up the lights, taking down the Christmas cards, packing things away.

All done for another year.

It was the right time to do it and I’m glad I didn’t leave the tree up longer, although for a minute my heart was just not into dismantling it.

I have some very sweet memories of my time with said Christmas tree this year and wrapping up all the ornaments and putting them in my Christmas box really highlighted the holiday I got to have that was similar and completely dissimilar to any other Christmas I have had.

So many lovely memories.

Nestled into tissue paper and carefully tucked away in my precious box of ornaments.

And today is the first day of a new year.

So much is going to happen.

I can feel it.

A pricking in my fingers.

A tingling in my bones.

Electricity in my blood.

This year is going to blow the lid off.

Just you wait.

It’s going to be a hell of a year.

Watch me.

Almost

December 10, 2017

I am so close to being finished with this semester.

One more class tomorrow.

9a.m. to noon.

Then I am done.

I’ll be doing a sushi lunch with my best girlfriend in the cohort after class to celebrate.

I can’t decide if I’m going to come home and kick out the last paper or just collapse in a heap on my bed.

It does not help that the professor extended the due date until December 18th.

Not really what I wanted.

Because now I could technically procrastinate the paper until next weekend.

I won’t, but it’s a possibility, it’s a temptation.

But really what I want is to finish the fucking semester tomorrow, which means writing and turning in that last paper.

I have some ideas about what I want to write on so I just need to sit, review my notes, review the readings I have done and leap in.

I suspect I could have it written before the sun goes down.

And then I can run up to 45th and Judah to the Christmas tree lot and get myself a Christmas tree and celebrate that I am done with the semester and maybe even wrap a few presents or write a couple of cards.

I’m a little late to the cards, normally I would have already sent some out, but this semester has been my toughest by far with the amount of work and the load that I am carrying.

But I’m making it through.

I turned in my last hard copy paper today that I needed to do and I nailed my final project presentation.

All I have to do is show up and sit through the lecture tomorrow and the last group of presenters and that’s it.

It would be tempting to skip, I’ve turned in the final paper, done the final presentation, there’s really nothing else that I need to do for the class.

But.

It doesn’t feel right to not sit and bear witness to my classmates who haven’t had a chance yet to present as well as say thank you to the professor, especially since he came out to hear me do my lecture on Tuesday.

Something I was very flattered by.

Very.

So.

Yeah.

Show up tomorrow and just do the last bit of the class and then a nice sushi lunch with my friend.

I had thought about going and doing Open Studio’s in the Mission, my friend has a studio, Hold The Phone, and I wanted to pick up some art from her.

And my boss has an open studio too at Art Explosion studios which is right in the same neighborhood.

But I have been thinking it might feel a little too much like going into work and I’m not sure that I want to re-route to the Mission from Hayes Valley.

I suspect that the best use of my time is going to be getting on my scooter, get the fuck home, write the damn paper and get it done.

After that I will allow myself some fun.

Write the paper, write the paper, write the paper.

Finish the semester out and be done with it.

One month break.

From school anyway.

Work will be work and my internship will be happening.

But I’ve already had a lot of my clients tells me that they have holiday plans.

I will have some slow weeks there I feel and that’s ok.

I may have some clients transitioning out as well, I’m not sure yet, I’ll know more this week.

I will also have my sit down with the family I work with and sign a new contract.

I’m a little nervous about that, but there’s really nothing to be worried about, every time I work with the family I am told how much I am appreciated and how much I help and I know I do a good job.

It will just be a sit down and a chat and yeah, signing a new contract.

And for a month I’ll not have to write papers or read or attend classes.

It will be a nice break.

Plus I’ll have two three day weekends in a row–Christmas and New Year’s are both on a Monday, so I’ll get a three-day weekend with each holiday.

That will be really nice.

Maybe I’ll take my little car on a tiny road trip.

Go see some lighthouses.

Maybe go see the monarch migration in Santa Cruz.

Maybe go across the bridge and up north a little, get some oysters at Hog Island.

I don’t know.

I’ll have some time and I suspect that a little jaunt out of the city may be a good thing for me.

Or I could just go over the bridge and drive to Stinson beach.

I haven’t been to Stinson or Muir beach in a long time.

In fact.

I think the last time I was at Stinson was right before I moved to Paris five years ago.

Wow.

Yeah.

That can’t be right.

I’ve got something nudging my memory, but I can’t place it.

Oh, I know, I did a motorcycle ride there with an ex boyfriend three years ago.

Anyway.

My brains fried, it’s been a busy weekend with school and really, a busy last few weeks of constant working, reading, writing, and preparing for lectures, papers, presentations.

No wonder I can’t remember.

Time to wrap this up and make some tea.

My bed is calling to me in no uncertain terms.

Good night.

You Get Around

May 5, 2015

I do.

“I follow you on Facebook and read your blogs, it’s good to see you in person, you really cram a lot of stuff into your day,” he told me as we were filing out of the room tonight.

I smiled.

I believe I thanked him for reading.

It’s nice to know that folks read these things I put out into the Universe, so often without much thought or effort, it would seem.

Although there is always much thought.

The effort really has to do with sitting down at the keyboard and figuring out a title.

Once I have a title, I don’t need anything.

I knew I was going to be writing “Inbound to Richmond District” the minute I saw it on the NextBus app.

There was something really musical about it to my ears.

And I do get around, but I suspect, many of us do, I just happen to document the getting around.

This brought to mind all the places I have lived in San Francisco as I enter my second year of residing in one spot.

It’s about a year and three-quarters, Labor Day weekend, just after Burning Man, will mark two years here in my little studio by the sea.

I can’t remember the last time I lived in one spot for two years.

It must have been when I was up in Nob Hill and technically I did move, albeit across the hall, but that was a move and challenging in its own ways.

I also may have resided at 23rd and Capp for two years, but I’m not certain I did, it feels like it was two years.

But as I explained to my charge today, “feelings are not facts,” I said with a smile and also relayed the message that “this too shall pass, the good news is you will have feelings, the bad news is you will have feelings.”

Then I tickled the grumpy out of him.

He is just such a sweet pie.

“Carmen! Carmen! Carmen! You have a star in your hair!” He excitedly reported to me.

“I do!” I replied, “what color is it?”

“Glittery!”

Heh.

Close enough kid.

“Silver,” I said, “you like stars, don’t you.”

“Yes!” He said and picked up his stuffed cat, “Meow Meow really likes stars too,” then he began to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, replacing the twinkle twinkle part with meows.”

Oh my god.

The cute.

Stop.

Wait, don’t stop.

“Stars are beautiful, you are beautiful,” he continued, “you must be a star.”

I just about fell out of the bed.

I was waking him up from his afternoon nap.

“You must be a star too,” I said and squeezed his little paw in mine, “Meow Meow is definitely a star as well.”

“Meow!” He said and kissed me.

My job might tire me the fuck out, but it is surely satisfying, yes, yes it is.

We had adventures to the park, both Dolores Park–in the morning, and Mission Playground in the afternoon, plus a trip to BiRite and to the market on the corner.

It made me remember when I discovered all these places when I first moved to San Francisco.

All the sites, the personal treasure map of love that San Francisco has imprinted on my heart.

The first time I went to Dolores Park was before I lived in the city, so that must have been in 2000 or possibly 2001.

Or The Elbow Room.

Blondie’s.

Casanova’s.

Kilo Watt.

Dalva.

The Roxie Theater.

When the New College was still the New College and I could still go to Osento and take a hot tub.

I still say I need to go to Osento sometime soon and then realize once again that it is gone.

It actually, or where it used to be, abuts the property of the people I work for.

I might have been naked on the roof of the spa soaking in the steam on a wood bench catching twinkling stars in between the clots of fog moving over the courtyard, the two wood barrel saunas, the outdoor shower, and the cold plunge–my current boss in her backyard hanging out on the other side of the fence.

I remember times when I was the only person there.

It was lovely.

You may have gathered that I lived a good portion of my time in the Mission.

My first residence in San Francisco–Labor Day weekend–it’s like my personal version of New Years, was a two month sublet at 20th and York.

I stayed past my two months and when another woman moved out of the room downstairs, I took it over.

I think I was paying $650 with everything included.

Granted there were five ladies living there, but we each had our own space carved out, technically the house was a three bedroom–all three upstairs–but one of the girls had carved out a weird little bedroom out of the kitchen pantry and then there was the studio/inlaw in the basement that I had.

It was great.

Until the house was sold and there was an owner move in and in less than two months we had to all get out.

I think it was actually 45 days, it happened so fast.

I found a room on craisglist, for less than I was actually paying at the house with all the girls, on 22nd and Alabama with a wild woman from Northern Italy who had been living in the house so long that she basically paid her rent by collecting from the two room mates and turning around and paying the landlord.

I could have cared less.

I was paying $500 a month for a huge room and access to the kitchen, bathroom, the gigantic glassed in back porch, where I spent three agonizing weeks drifting in a hammock, sleeping like the dead, out sick from work with Mono when I was 31.

MONO.

At freaking 31.

And it was my second time having it.

I had it the first time when I was 17.

Good times.

While I was living at 22nd and Alabama I had a friend turn me on to cocaine and his dealers number.

After some months of battling a rapidly growing habit, I decided, like a truly rational addict, that I should move out because I had the opportunity to move into a big beautiful house on 25th and Potrero (you would have never guessed how lovely the house was from the facade on Potrero–wood floors, Italian marble, skylights, pocket doors, fireplaces in two rooms, an office, two bedrooms, one and a half baths, laundry in the basement and the prettiest garden in the back) for $1100 a month.

That’s what my problem was!

My rent was too cheap!

If I just moved somewhere that was more than double my rent then I wouldn’t spend as much money on blow.

That didn’t work out so well.

But I did subsequently hit my bottom.

And the rest.

Well is his (her) story.

And I got around a lot after that as well.

Living at the following places:

Kingston and 30th.

Potrero and 26th.

Palou and 3rd.

Capp and 23rd Street.

Washington and Taylor.

Not once, but twice–the infamous move across the hall.

Homeless for three months couch surfing when I quit my high paying nanny job and went to work at bike shop in the Mission (crashed in the attic of a former family I nannied for on 25th and New Hampshire, “housesat” for a month at a friend of friend’s house that I met only once at a wedding, where I did her make up for the ceremony on a tiny side street at the bottom of Bernal Hill, and then on the couch of my friend who lives in Nob Hill on Clay Street) making half the salary I had been used to.

Then a teeny tiny box of an in-law in the Mission on 22nd and Folsom.

My bathroom was my kitchen was my garage (I hung my bicycle on a rack above the toilet).

After that.

Graceland in East Oakland for two months.

Then Paris–Rue Bellefond–in the bobo (bohemian bourgeoise) arrondissement, the 9th, just between Square D’Anvers and Cadet Metro Station for six months.

Then back to East Oakland for two, maybe three (?) months.

Can you say culture shock?

And finally.

Here.

46th Avenue between Judah and Irving Street.

And yes.

I moved in right after Labor Day weekend.

Where the hipsters meet the sea and the surfers rule the coffee shops.

And one wild woman with curly hair (pink!) rides out each day (well five out of seven anyway) six and a half miles, right back to the Mission, on her sparkle-pony whip of a bicycle.

I may be living in the same spot for a little while.

But.

I still get around.

Not A God Damn

January 2, 2015

Thing.

Fuck.

I’m not even in pants.

Haven’t gotten dressed.

Haven’t gone outside.

I looked.

It looked nice.

Nope.

Spent most of today in bed, in boyfriendlandia, doing a whole lot of nothing but snuggling, sleeping, and watching East Bound and Down.

Happy New Year.

I slept in until past one p.m.

I am not prone to that much sleep, but a comfortable crook of arm, and a cold nip to the air outside the warmth of the comforter, a day off from work and a late’ish night last night, and I was not inclined to get up and get out.

Oh.

I had my moments.

I always do.

When I think I should be going, doing, being, faster, quicker, go, go.

But really, there is nowhere to go, not today, not much to do, just be mellow, drink some tea, roll around in bed.

I did accomplish a shower.

So, there’s that.

I could review the year, but WordPress already did that for me and in such a way that I felt a smidgen guilty for not being as on point with my blogging as I have been prior to the whole I got a boyfriend thing happened.

Although I have been told by one friend, at least, that my writing has not suffered, that the blog post I have been putting out are decent, if not good, I can go for that.

I do want and need, pretty much to be writing every day, and that has not stopped, I’m still writing all the time, it just doesn’t always show up as a blog.

But believe you me, it’s still going on.

I felt compelled to blog tonight, partially because it’s fun to do it with no pants on, and because I did not do my morning long hand–I was in bed doing the snuggle and sleep thing.

Then there was that other thing.

Then there was making breakfast at 2 p.m.

And then back to bed and like that.

The day is gone.

But it’s not gone and I still have a few things that got to fly out of my fingers and into the ether and I don’t think a moment of reflection on the past year is so out of the question that I couldn’t write about it.

However.

I don’t want to focus on the past, even the near past, I have today and that’s what’s important.

As I look into 2015 there are a few things that I want to accomplish and perhaps that’s what I can look at.

I have a date to keep on the 13th of this month I might be rolling a special day of commemoration.

I also will be getting a new tattoo that same week.

But not until after the 17th, I don’t like jumping the gun.

No fronts man.

I am certain to have some more contact with my family.

Despite the pain and the mingled horror of seeing my father the way he was when I went up to Anchorage, there was also the resolution of an old idea of a relationship that never was and some grief that came out of it was really cathartic.

I grieved a relationship that I never had.

Not just with my father.

But with my reality and with my previous relationships.

I vowed to be more available and open and stand up for intimacy and be needy in ways that make me want to slap that word out of the dictionary.

I have asked for help in places I have balked at for so long that now seeing the things that have come out of them, renewed relationships with my father’s side of the family, a new ability to show up for a romantic relationship (and no it’s not all snuggles and butterflies and rainbows falling out of unicorn butts, but it is real and wonderful for all its humanity), for a new job, and for what I hope will be eventually a new career.

I have graduate school to be applying myself towards and furthering my commitment to myself by continuing to write.

I have places I want to travel too, some near, some far, most in the states, I don’t currently see any out of the states travel, not for another year, I think.

But Yosemite.

Half Dome.

The Grand Canyon.

Big Sur.

I want to see more.

I want to open myself up more to what is in my area and really explore it.

I wouldn’t mind seeing the redwoods again, it’s been a hot second, like over ten years, since I drove up north and saw the big old trees.

I want to see a friend get married.

I want to see a friend have a baby.

Both are in the works.

I want to continue to grow and maybe ride my scooter a little more and my bike and do a good job and be of service to my fellowship and community.

Standard stuff.

My New Year’s Resolutions are not really resolutions.

I already live a day-to-day existence.

That’s not to say that I am living hand to mouth, but rather that each day is a new day, full of possibility, each day is day to give and to give some more and to be of service.

It doesn’t have to be the holiday season, which, really, I am fine with it being over with, it was lovely, now let’s move the fuck on, to do estimable acts.

I have so much to be grateful for.

It doesn’t have to Thanksgiving for me to express gratitude.

It doesn’t have to be Christmas for me to give something to someone.

It doesn’t have to be New Years for me to make the decision to live a better day, a better moment, a better way of life.

I have to constantly enlarge my spiritual life.

And I am ok with that.

See.

I am crazy.

And I know it.

And the things that I do don’t negate the crazy, but they offset it and normalize me and make me useful and that is fabulous.

It’s not to say that the crazy doesn’t surface, it certainly does, but for the most part I feel pretty serene and loved and taken care of and I want to continue to live that kind of life.

I don’t have to resolve to do anything.

I get to do something every day.

Well, except for maybe today, since I really just lounged around all day.

But even that is a kind a growth.

I can hurry up and not do anything.

That can be just as rewarding as all the busy work I do.

And with that.

I’m out and officially into the new year.

Happy.

Happy.

May this be your best year yet.

I’m certain it will be mine.

Working Girl Holiday

December 17, 2013

Which means I am working the holidaze.

Sort of thought that might happen what with all my families staying in town and that the two big days, Christmas and New Years Day, fall mid-week.

I ran down my schedule with my two main families before I left this evening to head over to the Inner Sunset for a little of that doing the deal.

Full week this week, with additional hours on Friday to make up for taking off Wednesday.

Full week next week with the exception of Christmas day.

Yes, I will be working Christmas eve and the day after Christmas.

Christmas Eve will be a half day however, although I shall be house sitting, but that shouldn’t be too much work.

A hassle, yeah, a bit, but making hay while the sun shines and also helping out a friend who’s going home for the holidays.  So, I don’t mind too much.

Though I find it really interesting how everyone makes it out to be this big deal–oh bring your laundry, and it’s a vacation for you.

No, frankly, it ain’t a vacation.

It’s work.

It’s work to get myself and my things over to your place via bicycle or train or what ever vehicle I take.  It’s work to rearrange my schedule for a week to be in a different part of town, figuring out a different commute, because I am working regular, real regular during the time of the house sitting gig.

Plus, there’s only so much shit I can get in my messenger bag.

I’m there seven nights.

I must have my laptop, nach, ain’t gonna not write this blog, I need clothes for the week, and toiletries.  I can usually get three to four days of clothes in my bag, but it’s hard to stretch a whole week.  I will probably have to do a bomb run up and over and down to the beach at some point mid-way through.

In fact, had I known how much work I would have with the nannying, I probably would have said no to the house sitting gig.

Now, I will just look at it as the last extra bit of money to pay of the ticket to Barnaby, who, what!  Happens to be heading into town this week.

Just got the message today asking me if I wanted the stuff in storage, uh yeah, if you’re coming, I’ll take it.

Though I only recall a few things being in storage.

Obviously nothing I have missed horribly, since I can’t remember what I left there.

So, it will be nice to have the money for him when he’s here.  He’ll be around until January 15th and then off to Hawaii.

That’ll be a change after Paris.

The week after, the week of New Years, will be my really big money week though.

Regular hours on Monday and Tuesday, i.e. 8:45 a.m. until 5:30/6p.m.  Then Tuesday, which is New Years Eve, I will be doing an over night from 7p.m. until noon the next day.

I’ll have half the day off on New Years and be right back into my Thursday and Friday gigs.

What holidays?

Good thing I took off my birthday.

And I don’t believe I will pick up anything on the weekends, I have enough on my plate, trying to still keep room open for things to happen, loosely scheduling Saturdays and keeping Sunday wide open.

I don’t have a plan yet for Christmas day.

I was invited to a Christmas night dinner.

I will keep that on the shelf, I may just stay in the Mission, the invite was for the Bayview neighborhood.  I know I have some friends that will be staying in the city and I believe that there are a number of people who will be popping in and around the Mission.

All this working and this planning on how to get from one gig to the other makes me really grateful that I went out and got a Christmas tree and wrote cards, which is partially selfish.

I love getting mail.

I mean, love it.

I guess I am just old-fashioned.

And when I send out Christmas cards I usually get a few back and it’s fun to get them in the mailbox.

Today I got one from my sister.

That was sweet.

I actually cannot recall the last time I received a card from her.

For a moment I was nervous to open it.

Not sure what I thought was going to jump out at me.

But it was perfect, simple, sweet.

And I realized how I am looking forward to going down to see her, it’s been, well, awhile is a good start, um, nine years?  Almost nine years, since I saw her last.

That time was incredibly brief as well.

I think I had dinner and cocktails with her and my mother at the Weary Traveller in Madison on Willy Street.

She left early and then I went to the bar to meet with my friends.

It was my 32nd birthday.

So, yeah, considering I will be 41 on Wednesday, it has been nine years since I saw her.

There’s going to be some catching up I am certain.

The time it sure does fly, especially when my life is so full.

These last, almost nine years, have been so full I wonder sometimes how it is that I have done and gotten to do as much as I have.

Because my head, trusty little brain always sowing the seeds of doom, tells me I don’t get a whole lot done.

That’s a kind of resistance to the true nature of my life that allows my ego to beat me up and shame me into thinking I don’t have a great life or I haven’t accomplished enough.

When I list it out, though, I see someone who consistently shows up, for my writing–twice a day–for my charges, for my blog, for my friends, not always for the dating, but I am at least aware of that and putting in the work to change, for new adventures–Paris, surfing, horseback riding, trampolining, learning how to ride clipped into a bike, learning how to ride fixed gear, for the women in my life that I am honored to work with, I show the fuck up.

I can acknowledge that.

I am a working girl.

Working hard at living my life as to its fullest potential.

One small sweet day at a time.

 


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