That Was A Session

I’m a therapist.

It was so clear.

It was so obvious.

It was like getting whacked over the head.

You are a therapist.

I was in it with my client and although it was just a second session I could feel it happening, I could feel the alliance happening and who knows where it will go, but it’s a start.

I have clients.

Two this week.

Three next week.

And so it builds.

I was also a space cadet today.

I left my bag with my nanny shoes at work.

And when I realized I had already been on my way to the internship to see my client and I did not want to risk losing time to turn around and go back.

When I finished with the session I couldn’t remember if I had actually carried out the bag with me, having then left it on the sidewalk outside of my job.

Or.

If I had left it inside the house.

I called and text my boss but got no response.

Then I had a horrible vision of my bag, with my very expensive Dansko walking shoes, on the sidewalk and it getting scooped up by an entrepreneurial type in the neighborhood.

I debated going home, but I needed the piece of mind more than the extra few minutes I would have gotten at home.

So I zipped over to work and sure enough it was at the house, inside, thank God.

I thanked the dad, hopped back on my scooter and zoomed home.

It was a fast ride, the rush traffic having dissipated and in the end I was only home five minutes, maybe seven, past when I had predicted I’d be walking in.

It’s nice to be home.

I love my little studio.

Yes.

I would love to have more space.

I surely would.

However.

In this time in my life I am willing to be in a little space that holds me so well and is pretty and full of color and things to look upon that make me happy.

Speaking of which.

I expect to hear back soon from Cheap Pete’s.

The framing shop I took my two Paris prints to.

One a Marilyn Monroe by Phillip Hausman I got at the Jeu de Paume in Paris and the other a vintage Scandal sheet cover from a vendor at Clingancourt.

I am looking forward to adding them to my collection.

Although, truth be told, I don’t have much wall space left at all.

I have an idea to rearrange a few things and move around a couple of pieces and I think they will fit just fine.

And.

In other news.

I got my financial aid disbursement.

Hurrah!

So very happy.

I put half of it in savings immediately.

I will be using that money for my therapy costs as I move through my school program.

I will also be purchasing some new clothes for the doing of therapy.

I have a small wardrobe, but I realized that I need to expand a little, a few more pieces of professional clothing that I can interchange with my current wardrobe.

I was talking to my therapist this morning.

Yes.

The therapist has a therapist.

Duh.

Anyway.

Just that it’s nice having a change-up in my wardrobe and it helps me to be in the mindset.

Which is how I forgot my nanny shoes at work.

I took them off to put on my “therapist” shoes.

My new Fluevogs.

They are funky, but not too crazy and I do feel like someone else when I wear them.

It feels important to switch gears from nanny to therapist.

Even if the client would probably be completely happy with whatever I am wearing, well, perhaps, but really, it feels right for me.

It’s like pushing a reset button.

I carry myself different and I put on a different hat.

Or pair of shoes.

If the shoe fits.

Fucking wear that shit.

And I have totally lost my train of thought.

I am tired and just did a Facetime chat with a friend who’s been trying to catch up with me for a couple of weeks.

I am just starting to take clients, I can’t imagine how things are going to look when I’m back in school.

I probably won’t know what hit me.

But.

My god.

I am so grateful that I have started my internship now.

If I had to handle the training and the clients and the newness of it and juggle a full load of fall semester.

Um.

No.

Super grateful to have this time to get adjusted.

I also know that I won’t have to work as many hours.

Right now I’m working 40-41 hours a week as a nanny.

When school is in I’ll go back down to 35 and that will help.

Shit.

That’s five clients right there.

Add the three I have now and I could reasonably be doing the same amount of work that I am carrying now.

Of course.

It will be different.

I will also have to carry a full-time grad school load.

With all the reading and writing that entails.

Shh.

I tell myself.

Hush for now.

Don’t spoil the moment.

I had a good day.

I was a good nanny.

My charges loved on me, I got to hold the baby for a few hours while it slept, I made a dinner that the entire family raved about (pancetta spaghetti carbonara with julienned sugar snap peas, pan sautéed asparagus with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, hearts of romaine salad with heirloom tomatoes, avocado, a soft-boiled wild hen egg and sprouted sunflower seeds), “Carmen, you are a REALLY good cook,” said the seven year old.

Thanks sugar.

I do love cooking for those I care about.

And.

I was a therapist.

A damned good one at that.

I think I have earned my cup of tea.

With that.

I call it a night.

Sleep well my friends.

Sleep well.

 

Quick

Fast blog.

I want to go to bed here pretty damn quick.

But.

Oh.

The day I had.

So good.

Such the perfect last day.

Even getting into a fight with my friend when I got lost today was part of the perfection.

When I think about it one small tiff in regards to an entire week of travel with a friend is pretty fucking good.

And we made up pretty quick.

It helps when I admit I was wrong.

I joked that I should get “Lost” or “I’m always wrong” as my tattoo.

Yes.

That is correct.

I got a tattoo on my last day here in Paris.

At Abraxas where my good friend Barnaby Williams used to work when he was living here.

He’ll be back in March, to Paris that is, and the shop remembered me, a couple of the guys remembered the jackalope that Barnaby did for me on my birthday and I was able to get in as a walk in.

And my friend as well, even though at first it was a no when we asked, they were booked up.

But.

It happened and I am so grateful.

I got a beautiful tattoo.

It means “dream” in French.

Here is my awesome and amazing tattoo artist, Bin.

He was a doll and did great work, despite speaking no English and the barest French–he’s Chinese.

I had the idea for a different piece, I was thinking “ma vie en rose” but I felt like it would be too squashed where I wanted to place it.

I had the idea to change the tattoo after doing a grand walk about through the Marais from some graffiti art I saw.

“I think of nothing, I dream of everything.”

I think that’s pretty accurate.

And the Marais did not fail with it’s plethora of great past street art and graffiti.

Fantastic street art.

And I saw a lot of art today.

I started the day with my friend by hopping on the Metro and getting to the Jeu de Paume as it was opening to see the Phillip Hausman exhibit.

It was fantastic.

Some great Marilyn’s I had never seen before and also a gorgeous Audrey Hepburn and the sweetest photo of Angelica Houston.

Oh goodness.

And so many other photographs that I just cannot do it justice here.

Nor.

Truly.

Can I do this blog justice as I just noticed the time and I have to be up in six hours to catch a flight back to San Francisco.

A fourteen hour flight.

So.

Bon soir Paris.

Je t’aime.

As always.