Did It

I wasn’t sure there for a moment, but I got it done.

I wrote my big paper that was due today in the middle of a full day, and just now finished editing it and sent it out.

10 pages.

3,759 words.

Hello.

It wasn’t a hard paper to write, the words came fast and furious and there was much I could have written about but did not.

The paper, at least this portion of it, was very self-reflexive, I was really writing about my own experiences in school and showing where and when I learned and what was valuable to me.

There have been so many things that I couldn’t even begin to touch upon them all.

And since I have a way with words, words way with I have, I wasn’t too hard pressed to just let them come  out.

Still.

I have to say I was impressed.

It may have been the fastest I have written and the biggest quantity of work I have done in a one day go of it.

The paper will eventually be thirty pages, but if the rest of the paper goes as swimmingly I don’t think that it will be too challenging to do the rest.

Heck.

I only have to do twenty more pages.

I have an option of not writing the full thirty, I could instead write a 12-14 page paper and do a live website.

I was going to do the website and the short paper, but at this point, fuck it, I figure I’ll just save that headache, building a website, for another day.

Hell.

I’ll probably ask a friend to build one for me.

I know little about building a website and though I’m sure it’s not difficult, I don’t want to stress about it.

If I can knock out ten pages as quickly as I did today I won’t have a problem just doing the big paper.

I also had just a fabulous day, I’m quite certain that there was something in the air that helped me to get the writing done.

I did get up quite early.

I was having a dream and in the dream there was very loud classical music playing, it sounded baroque, perhaps it was Bach, and I was doing pirouettes in a huge ball gown through an enormous ball room that was framed by these huge windows, so high, leaded glass and arched, and the floor was parquet and there were trees outside the windows through which this golden green dappled light flooded the room and splashed off my flying dress and my hair whirling around me.

I swear it was how loudly the music was playing in the dream that woke me up.

I awoke and it was dark, pre-dawn dark, I looked at my phone and it was 6:07 a.m.

Sigh.

My alarm would go off in eight minutes, so I might as well get up.

I got up put on my yoga clothes, made my bed, drank some water, prayed and did my morning routine, then set off to Java Beach with a couple of blankets in a beach bag.

My friend was already at the cafe and it was so good to connect.

Really good.

We got coffees and then walked to the beach.

We found a great spot in the dunes, pulled out the blankets, spread them on the sand and sat and talked and watched the moon set over the Pacific ocean, the surfer’s up doing their dawn patrol, the ship on the horizon pulling closer and closer to eventually sail somulent and slow under the Golden Gate Bridge.

The sun rose behind us and lit the sky with rosy pinks and striations of mauve and light purples.

It was warmer than I expected.

The company was fantastic and I got re-acquainted with my friend whom it felt like I hadn’t seen in years, though it was just a few weeks ago.

So much can happen in a few weeks.

We caught up and drank coffee and got sand every where and it was good.

The best.

The best.

The best.

And someone had a bonfire down the beach and the smell of it intoxicated my heart and reminded me of the night so many years ago when my mom and her boyfriend scooped up my sister and I and took us to the beach at night and we built a bonfire on the shore.

I collected shells in the morning and then we went to a little roadside cafe for breakfast.

It may be one of my favorite, if not my favorite, of my earliest memories.

And to have that same smell, morning ocean smell entwined with the drifting smell of bonfire, oh, it made the company that more exquisite.

How lucky I am to have the people in my life I do.

So.

Very.

Lucky.

Then yoga class at 9a.m.

And it was a fantastic class.

The instructor was great and I did something today that I have never done before in yoga, I had a fully extended stretch sitting on the mat, feet forward, arms in front of me, bending at the waist, flat back, hands wrapped around my feet and yes, I was able to touch my forehead to my knees.

I have never done that.

I have always wanted to be that flexible and there it was, the stretch happened today and it felt glorious, to be in my skin, in my body, and stretched out.

Afterward the hottest shower I could stand and breakfast, coffee, morning pages.

I wrote a lot of morning pages today too, just trying to capture all the things I saw and felt at the beach, the intermingling of memories and how they became big and miraculous and full of love, sublime.

And of course.

I had to clean the house.

Because.

Um.

Yeah.

I had a big fat paper to write, so best scrub, vacuum, cook, do laundry, and dust.

Fuck, I even washed the rugs in the bathroom.

Then I just said, enough, get to it.

And I got to it.

Super grateful I got done what needed to be done today.

It was a big push.

But.

Well.

When your day starts out as lovely as mine did.

Anything is possible.

Anything.

Fashionably Late

Smelling like candy.

“You always smell so good,” she said to me last night as I gave her a hug good night after a brief check in about when we were going to be meeting this weekend.

“You smell like candy.”

“Good,” I replied, “I’ve got a date.”

And like that.

I smelled like sex and candy.

Just in case you were wondering where I was last night.

Ahem.

Procrastinating the inevitable work that I need to do for school but having fun.

I finally get what people have been trying to tell me for so long.

Date a bunch of guys, don’t focus on one, have fun, and it’s interviewing for possible dates.

I had a nice time, it was a sweet experience, and at times a bit telling on our age difference, I wanted to pinch his cheeks at one point and tell him how cute he was, but that probably wouldn’t have been too sexy for him.

“You had me at ‘I can cook’,” he said kissing me and throwing me down on my bed.

And later.

“You are wild,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

Nah.

I’m just me.

I’m exuberant.

But I suppose for some people that looks like wild.

I like to have fun, safe fun, I’m not stupid, about my space, my heart, or my body, I’m clearly delineating certain things from certain places.

“That really surprises me!” She said tonight, “I mean, I thought guys asked you out all the time.”

“Not in the rooms,” I said, “in fact, I have been only asked out once in eleven years.”

And I said yes.

Just in case you were wondering.

But I don’t muck about in the rooms.

I don’t.

I would love to, but I just don’t want to sully the waters that make me well.

That being said, it is with my utmost fervent hope that I will be one day in a committed, sober, monogamous, fun, sexy, creative, hella happy, recovered romantic relationship.

Which does sort of mean being available to that energy and engaging with guys in my community.

But not getting laid there, I don’t want to be casual with any one in that way.

Unless they’re not in my regular sphere, yo over in Oakland, we might hit it, you know.

I’m being a bit flip, but I hold dear certain places and spaces.

Of course, I have monkeyed around, who hasn’t?

It can be like shooting fish in a barrel, but like I have heard often, “the odds are good, but the goods are odd.”

Ain’t that the truth.

“I think I’m just a big personality and I can come across as too much and I’m a strong woman,” I told the woman I was speaking with tonight.

I went to an awesome fundraiser, basically a rent party, for a place I frequent and heard a dear friend play an amazing set with some other friends.

They were outstanding.

Tom S. & The 5150’s.

Got to fucking love that.

They played “Little Red Corvette” as an encore and I started to cry.

There were more than a few wet faces in the audiences and we all shamelessly sang along to the song.

Then there was some dancing, a little MoTown dj action and I got my groove on, despite, or perhaps because I have been looking at what I need to do for school and I really didn’t do anything school related today.

I got up late, since, I er, went to bed late, heh, but I did get up in time to go to a 10:30 a.m. yoga class, I showered, did laundry, wrote, and tidied up, I had a phone call over coffee with a suitor–we have a date for next Saturday–and then I decided to go and get my nails done and take myself out for lunch.

Which led to me being in Green Apple Books and did I just spend another hour and a half not reading for school, but reading for pleasure?

Oops.

My bad.

I couldn’t help it though.

I am such a sucker for a good book store.

Then I went to do the deal and I ran into a bunch of folks and the next thing you know I’m at this rent party and singing with the band and dancing and holy mother, it’s 9:30 p.m. I haven’t been home all day, I need to do grocery shopping, I haven’t had dinner, and um, school work, um, ha.

Oh well.

I am actually really happy I let my hair down for a while and reconnected with friends I haven’t seen in a while and chatted and just had some social interaction, that wasn’t dating, and was fun and silly and chill.

I’ve got yoga in the morning, two ladies back to back, food prep to do for the week, and yes, I did do it, I have a coffee date and a walk on the beach for the afternoon.

When am I going to do school work?

Fuck if I know.

But I promise.

It will get done.

And I will keep letting myself have fun, as long as I’m taking good self-care.

If I was missing out on doing the deal or not meeting with my ladies or checking in with my people, then I would not be doing the dating thing.

And when I feel like I have to knuckle down and do the school work, I will do that.

I already know I ain’t doing shit next Sunday but writing a big paper and reading a lot.

I don’t have any dates planned for the week, just yoga and doing the deal, and of course working, I will get reading done every day before work.

And my stupid, annoying, perpetually obnoxious Applied Spirituality post will get in there too.  God I can’t stand this class, drives me bats, I’m already so spiritual yo, you can’t even realize, why I got to write a paper on it?

At least I know what I will be writing, the yoga continues to be a very mind expanding and heart opening experience.

As well as a fan-fucking-tastic work out, I broke a sweat today like no body’s business.

Life.

It is so good.

So real.

So full of fun.

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Believe it.

Stalling

But not stalled out.

Although, I admitted to a person of mine that I did indeed feel like I wanted to bail, that I have had enough, I’m done, I’m not doing my homework, stamping foot.

Stamp.

Stamp.

Stamp.

But I did do a lot of homework anyway.

As I sometimes explain to the five year old when he doesn’t want to do something, “you can not want to do it and do it anyway, you get to do it.”

Most of the time not wanting to do something for him is not the horrendous nightmare of being fed kale or broccoli, rather it’s not wanting to stir off the floor to go out to the park.

“Come on, you love the park,” I cajole him.

“No.  I want to stay inside,” he will reply petulant.

I don’t know what’s up with that, I always wanted to be outside, out of the house, on my own, doing my bit, playing how I wanted to play, exploring, adventuring, sallying forth with no regard to time of day and when or how I would get back home.

I however, was escaping what were often intolerable home situations and experiences.

Being outside was my great escape, my first experience with God, or as I like to think of it, the G.reat O.ut D.oors.

I was talking with my person on the phone about a conversation I had with my mom recently, school stuff, and the ramifications of realizing how vulnerable I feel when I am reading about a psychoanalytical theory and how the manifestations of so many issues arise from my childhood.

It seems that I ache with every theory and postulate, I see myself, my experience, the things that happened, the way I choose to disassociate, or check out, if you will, the self-medicating I used to do.

Basic stuff that I realize I almost never do now.

Except when I do them.

And it will be a shock, a surprise, a moment of realization, oh, I’m doing that, what need do I have that I am not fulfilling?

How can I better take care of myself?

What do I need to do to bolster my own self-esteem?

Or self-worth?

I did not get the kind of primary nurturing and attending to that children need to grow up with a strong stable sense of self.

I am not blaming my mom.

I am not blaming society.

I am not blaming my grandparents.

I am not blaming the nature of alcoholism, sexual abuse, trauma, neglect, addiction.

I am not looking even for an answer.

If I had the answers would I feel any differently?

I am just accepting that things happened and that there is still work to be done and attention to be paid and actions to be taken.

I get to have this experience.

School reading, psychology theory, brings it up.

What’s wrong with client x?

He was abandoned, neglected, beaten as a child.

What’s wrong with patient z?

She was neglected, ignored, improperly nourished, as a child.

What’s wrong with patient, ad infinitum.

So much seems to stem from these early basic child hood patterns and seeing them, reading about them, recognizing characteristics and traits in myself, I am sometimes saddened.

Often times grateful.

I somehow made it out and through and beyond.

(My own creation of friends, family, fellowship which has nurtured me, raised me, really)

I will be literally struck by how challenging these things are to a young, budding psyche and be amazed that I am not curled up in a fucking ball somewhere, hiding under my bed.

Or.

In my closet under a pile of clothes.

Or anywhere I can have a wall at my back.

In other words.

I am resilient.

And I love that about myself and that I get to forgive all those things, that I don’t have to continue holding onto them, that I can let go, but down the boulder of shame and the burdens of other people’s guilt, they are not mine to carry and I am not interested in doing their heavy labor any longer.

I am, rather, interested in doing what makes me happy.

Going blonde.

What satisfies me.

Having dinner with a dear friend.

Oh my God, that sushi was awesome.

What fulfills me.

Working with a ladybug today and talking about defects of character.

Doing good self care, which included pulling out the chaise and sweeping up the dust bunnies in the corner and cleaning my rugs and sweeping and doing laundry.

Grocery shopping and buying food I like.

Cooking for myself.

And.

Yes.

Doing my taxes.

I laughed out loud though, when I realized I was doing my taxes to avoid doing my psychology homework.

So.

I made some calls and outed myself and when it was done and I had lunch in my belly, I sat and I read.

And I read.

And I read some more.

I got a lot done.

I finished up the reading for one of my classes completely and got a good start in on the next.  I also ascertained a due date on a paper and started doing a little preliminary tabbing and marking in my text to make notes for the paper.

And when the reading got hard, it did, partially from the standpoint of this is new material and partially from the stand point, of ouch, damn it, I relate a little too much to this, can’t wait til I’m in therapy again, ouch, stop it.

I stopped.

I took a breath.

I went outside on the back porch and caught some sun.

It’s pretty sheltered so if the wind isn’t too blowy and the day is not overcast, there’s a nice little spot to get some sunshine on my face.

Or.

I made some tea.

Actually.

I made a lot of tea.

I was a tea drinking fiend today.

It’s a kind of self-soothing for me.

It warms me up, I feel safe, somehow, taken care of, it’s nurturing.

Granted I may go to the bathroom a bunch, but it does the trick.

And it’s much healthier than some other things I have tried to make me feel better.

Cigarettes.

Vodka.

Cocaine.

Donuts.

And it was literally something suggested to me as a way to self-soothe.

“If it gets bad, take a hot bath, and bring a cup of hot tea in the bath with you,” my therapist said.

Sometimes it was too hard to even get myself into the bath.

I am not at that place any longer, I have done the work to move forward and I shall continue doing the work that arises, but once in a while, it will sting, and it will reveal things about me and my life and I will be tender.

And that is ok.

I got to my place of being ok with it.

I got my small procrastination on and did my taxes.

Heh.

But mostly.

I just let myself be a student and I let myself be seen by myself with unconditional love and positive regard.

“You’re doing a good job, kid,” I said to myself this afternoon.

And you know what?

I am.

And Now It’s Time

For a little night music.

Since it’s Sunday.

That would be jazz.

Colman Hawkins.

Chet Baker.

Soothing.

Sexy.

Satiating.

Mostly soothing and easy for me to palate since my brain has been on fire with my Human Development paper and final project proposal.

I sent them both off tonight.

Minutes ago in fact.

Well.

The reflection paper, the second of five that the class requires (ok, ok, that I require, the class only requires four, I can opt out of one, but since I only got a B on the first paper–I got docked for formatting issues–who the hell asks a student to write in 1.5 paragraphs instead of 2.0–I will be writing all five.  I can get extra credit for writing the fifth which will bring my grade up to where I want it) I sent off about 45 minutes ago.

It took me a little longer to write then I thought it would.

But.

I got it done in under three hours.

My brain hurts though.

My ass too.

From sitting in a hard chair for hours.

I also sat in this chair to do my morning pages and to meet with two different ladies back to back before I got started on the paper.

Plus, I sat a while organizing my notes and notebooks and my gigantic ass text-book and the reader and well, my tush is half asleep.

Hopefully this blog will be quick and I will get my butt out of this chair soon.

Ah.

Getting old.

Thanks for the reminder body.

I was actually surprised to find myself finishing up the proposal for the final project tonight.

I was going to put it off until tomorrow night.

But.

I did not want to sit down to a cold proposal tomorrow night, I figure I may be too tired, I’m going into work early and both the boys have the day off from school for the holiday, so I’ll have my hands full.

And.

I am meeting my person after work to do some reading and do the deal.

So.

I started making some notes and gathering my information and looking about the internet and I ended up writing out my proposal and sending it off as well.

Today’s reflection paper was on issues in human development–nach, that’s the title of the course–around racism, micro-aggression in families, sexual fluidity, same-sex parenting, parenting styles, and effects of violence and media on children.

Yeah.

Like that.

Except it was seven pages (at 1.5 fucking paragraph line spacing, so it felt like ten pages) and 2,953 words.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Now I go vomit in my bathroom.

My proposal for my final project presentation is on using sign language with babies to help parents communicate before verbal skills have developed.  It will be mainly a theoretical research project, but there will be color from my own personal experience, plus a video on signing, and a hand out with 20 common signs, some of which I plan on teaching the class.

I am still rather shocked that I got the proposal done and sent off.

Relieved too.

I need to focus on my other classes a little bit.

And.

Start the reading for the next weekend of classes.

Ugh.

The Human Development class has three chapters of reading in the text-book and six articles in the reader.

I don’t know what I need to read for my other classes at all.

I don’t know when the papers are due either.

Although I have a vague inkling that I must have my Dubitzky paper on Freud before the next weekend of classes and my Therapeutic Communication class always has a paper due right before class too.

That’s two papers.

Plus the paper for my T-Group.

That one isn’t due until November 17th, but there is a lot.

A LOT.

Of reading I have to do for it.

Ah.

Finding balance.

Oh!

Excellent.

I just got a response back from my Human Development professor.

She received my second reflection paper.

The professor also has a policy that the student is responsible for making sure she, the professor, gets the paper.  If I don’t hear back within 24 hours or so of sending out the paper I need to check in with her to ascertain whether or not she has gotten it.

I suppose this negates the possibility of that old saw.

What do you mean you didn’t get my paper?

I sent it!

Computers!

I feel like I do a little too much housekeeping for this particular class and too much grunt work.

But.

So it goes.

The price of admission.

OH!

Hey!

This is nice, check it out.

How delightful!  I am looking forward to your presentation Carmen.  Go for it!   

I just received another e-mail from the professor.

She likes my project proposal!

Sweet.

I don’t have to think about it too much more.

I will have to make a trip to the library, in fact, I may just buy the book online, the one by Dr. Joseph Garcia, called Toddler Talk, if I can find a cheap copy of it on Amazon and of course, do the presentation, but I have some space to work on it and I figure that I will be doing a bit of that work after this next weekend of classes, which is not until the 23rd of the month.

I have twelve days to get done another two papers and read another load of words.

And life.

There’s always that basic maintaining that has to be taken care of.

Self-care.

I was good to myself today.

I slept in.

Not a lot, but I didn’t use an alarm, probably the only day this week that I didn’t, and I bought myself flowers–a sort of incentive to get my paper writing done.  I also did some grocery shopping and I cooked food for the day and for the week.

Dinner and lunch was brown rice with tarragon chicken and mushrooms.

Food for the work week is homemade “fried” rice with turkey bacon, chicken, mushrooms, peas, carrots, and sweet corn.

I also finally caught up on my spending plan and wrote out my expenditures for September and made a plan for October.

I knew I was procrastinating on writing the paper when I started playing catch up with my spending plan.

I mean, hello.

I would rather work on a spending budget for the month then write this paper.

But.

It’s done too, October, and where all my money is allotted.

Clothing allowance excepting.

I spent that all yesterday.

Heh.

Life it moves a pace.

Oh!

And I wrote another sonnet.

That’s eight done.

I should have the full ten by Tuesday after which point I will take the roughs from my notebook and put them into my laptop and edit them and send off the bunch to my collaborator.

I wasn’t busy today.

Hahahaha.

Not at all.

Breathing a sigh of relief.

Drinking hot cinnamon spice tea.

Soft jazz on the stereo.

Winding down for the day.

Time to rest up for the week.

It’s a big one.

But at least I have one last paper over my head to worry about.

Good night all.

Sweet dreams.

 

Procrastination Is Not An Option

I can only sit for so long on amazon.com trying to figure out what bicycle lights I should buy for Burning Man before I get disgusted with myself and have to start writing.

I opened my blog page up and drank an entire cup of tea trying to figure out what I was going to write about.

Some days are like that.

I just have to show up to the page and I know something will come out.

I was thinking about my spending plan and realized now there’s a scintillating topic, I am sure everyone is going to be dying to read about that.

However.

That’s what was up for me today.

Doing my numbers for June, which I should have done sooner, but as I was out-of-town on the great Atlanta, Georgia adventure, it never came to pass.

So in between rescuing the small monkey of a boy from the top bunk bed where he got stuck at quiet time and running up and down the stairs at work after he hollered, “I want milky!” and knocked over a table in his room, I did my numbers for June.

And felt much better for it.

I did damn good.

I was within $30 of what I had projected I was going to spend.

I did spend over the amount that I had put into my plan, but I also had an unexpected expense when I had to upgrade the security on my computer, but that was offset by a small bonus my employers gave me when I won one of the scholarships to graduate school.

Graduate school.

That was what got me going.

I realized as I was adding up my numbers and laying out my spending plan for July that I would have to have a school supplies category in my new plan.

That and I am going to get to take my student loan payment off the plan for the next three years.

I have to contact my student loan company and let them know to stop pulling from my bank account on the 28th of the month since in about a month I will be in graduate school.

Despite it feeling like I’m going to be in graduate school, like, oh, by next weekend.

I read over the syllabus and I have some reading to do.

A lot of reading to do.

A lot.

All to be read before I go on the week-long retreat up in Petaluma.

I was messaging a friend of mine in Wisconsin and he made some great suggestions about how to approach the reading and it became very clear that one of the things that I need to do in the next couple of weeks, if not sooner, like this week, is contact my advisor.

I need to sit down with my advisor and well, get some advice.

I need to know where to buy all my books, how to gather all the articles, where to go, what to look for, and yes, most importantly, how to pay for it.

I haven’t received my awards letter yet, so I am uncertain when I will receive the money for school or how that will look.

I know that one of the scholarships will be applied directly to tuition, I don’t have to think about it, it will pay my tuition and then, done.

The other, the Diversity in Leadership scholarship, the $10,000 per year award, how is that dispersed?

When will I get it?

Will I get it in time to purchase my books and get the reading on?

Or.

And this was my assumption as I sat at the dining table at work while the boys were in quiet time and I was crunching numbers, will I need to put a category in this month to pay for my books and course work so that I can get on it, the reading and prep for the class.

My friend said, a month?

That’s plenty of time.

Read everything twice.

And that was actually what I had thought as well, the e-mail outlining the retreat and the information therein made it quiet clear that the material was not only to be read, but comprehended.

Comprehension, for me at least, takes more than one read.

I often glean things after I have read them more than once, most likely twice, and sometimes I have to read things three times.

I get it.

The information is absorbed and I am a quick read, but I have to acknowledge, to myself, that the way I read is for pleasure and this is not going to be exactly pleasure reading.

It’s school work and I am certain there will be moments when I am intrigued and enthralled with the work and there will also be moments when I am not interested in what I am reading or it is a challenging concept and I will have to be studious, I will have to read the material regardless of how I feel about it.

It’s all a process and I am grateful that I am going through it.

Even though, yes, I am scared.

I am scared to fuck up the gift of the financial aid being awarded me.

I am afraid to be stupid.

I am afraid I won’t get it.

And those are just baseless, groundless fears.

I am more afraid that I will lose time with people who I am just getting to spend time with and I want to have this next month to play as much as possible.

I realized today in doing the spending plan that I was more upset about having to budget the money towards school materials because I was going to have to start the work before I was actually in class.

I want every drop of my summer before I go to work.

And.

Well.

I don’t always get what I want.

Though, yes, I do always get what I need.

And there will be time.

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create

There will be time for play.

There will be time for love.

There will be time for travel.

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me

Yes.

There will be time.

For you and me.

I promise.